Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Day 2 with no makeup and little ponies.

Okay Skittles – I survived yesterday – without makeup. I swear to you I saw some people gagging and pointing in my direction….but I stood tall and I pretended that this red eyed, blotchy faced, pale as Rambo’s butt cheeks look was totally on purpose.

I almost tried to pretend I was hungover but I’ve been here too long and everyone here knows I’ve never even been drunk – much less hungover. If anyone thinks to ask me why I look like I’ve been crying – I’m going to lie and tell them Martha Stewart across the hall kicked me when she thought I wasn’t looking.

So today is Day 2 without makeup. I also don’t have on any socks, underwear or a bra. I’m kicking up this whole “less is more” thing a notch. I mean if no one notices when I don’t wear makeup – why waste the time applying it? Same goes for underwear, socks and bras. I bet no one even notices. Wanna bet me?

Tomorrow I might go pant-less and shirt-less. We’ll see.

Lastly I would like to just point out something that is soooo incredibly wrong in my life that I have to put up with EVERY day. It has to do with Explosive Man. If you’re a new reader – he’s the guy in my office who – no lie – no exaggeration – blows up EVERY time he goes in the bathroom…which just happens to be right outside my office…and happens to be about 16 times a damn day.

Anywhoozle….this man also is a photographer in his spare time – which can’t be a lot considering how much he’s in the bathroom. He’s really good at it…BUT there’s one tiny little issue I have with his hobby.

A blog I read made me think of it because she found a spider in her corner and had the literal balls to get close enough to take a picture of it and put it on her blog. I had to cover my eyes so I could keep reading and not see the picture.

So….Explosive Man is also the VP of the company I work for. He’s very busy and when he doesn’t want to be disturbed – he shuts his office door and do you know what he puts on it?

A picture.

Big deal you say. Well yes – when said picture is of a spider. And not just any spider. This is a picture of a spider magnified with a serious professional type camera. I can count the hairs on the spider’s legs – if I ever got that close that is. He also blew up the picture so it is the full size of an 8 ½ by 11 sheet of paper.

What kind of sicko would do such a thing?

He puts this up and you know not to knock or go in.

And it works. I stay far away from his door.

Except one day it just pissed me off more than normal that I had to see that damn spider every time I walked by his office.

So? I replaced it with an 8.5 x 11 picture of a pink Little Pony flitting in the afternoon sun.
I enlarged and printed it out and pasted it over the spider.

Clearly – my idea of “do not disturb” is MUCH better. He wandered around the office asking everyone who did it for days…

I never did confess.

I’m already going to Hell…there’s no point in confessing.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Mary Poppins & a lesson in vanity.

Mary Poppins.


I’m dead serious. This weekend some channel was showing Mary Poppins and while I did work for the FT job and some for the PT jobs – I decided to act like a 12 year old – and put on Mary Poppins. My kids were not even in the room. Good times.

You can bet your ass I was singing along. ♪ Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, the medicine go down… ♪

The best part though? The whole entire show is full of clever – and true – little sayings. Have any of you ever noticed that? I mean every other scene has a lesson in it. As a kid – I never noticed that. As an adult – while the movie played in the background – it was all I could hear.

The one that really caught me was when the two kids have to take their medicine so they won’t catch a cold because they got their feet wet. They whine about wanting to take it until they realize Mary Poppins made the medicine taste orgasmic. (Um no – the word “orgasmic” isn’t in the movie) And then of course – being kids – they then beg and want more.

And Mary Poppins says, “Hush. Nonsense. Enough is as good as a feast.”

Really – you don’t say? Think about that. I mean how true is that? ENOUGH is as good as a feast.

No idea why that particular saying caught me but for days it has stuck with me. Maybe I’m just in love with Mary Poppins and her accent and that carpet bag she carries that hold all the world’s treasures in it. And yes – in case you’re wondering….right after Mary Poppins – The Sound of Music came on.

It was an all day love fest. ♪ Doe, a deer, a female deer. Ray – a drop of golden sun….♪

Lastly today I would like to say the next few days are going to be H-A-R-D for me. As in physically and mentally difficult. I’m a person with a lot of self-doubt and a low self-esteem to begin with and I rely heavily on clothes and shoes and hair and “stuff” – and MAKE-UP to make me feel like me.

On the weekends it is true I literally don’t get out of PJs, don’t comb my hair and don’t put on makeup but M-F – it is who I am professionally.

Except for the next 3 days.

I am not allowed to wear makeup until Saturday. In case you haven’t noticed – this is Tuesday. I want to wear a bag over my head. I saw some people in the kitchen. I pretended to stare at the vending machine. I didn’t look anyone in the eye.

This is hard folks. I feel ugly. Not okay. Like people are going to run screaming.

And yes – I work with plenty of women who don’t wear makeup to work and I love that and respect that but that’s normal to them. This is not normal to me. It’d be like asking those women to suddenly wear makeup. And I don’t wear a lot but it’s enough to feel better about me.

So did I mention this is hard?

I told Rambo a million times – I don’t know if I can do this. Do you understand how this is going to look?

He looked straight at me in a serious tone and said, “They are going to see YOU. And there is nothing wrong with that.” Um.  I beg to differ.

This from the man who still mauls me every weekend in my PJs, lion hair and non-made-up face. I could be Smurfette and still he'd say I was gorgeous because he has a penis and he can only see boobs and a vagina.
It sounds dumb – but could you do it? Could you go to your professional place of business with top executives where you are respected and known for looking a certain way – and look the opposite? How would it make you feel? Would you act different? Want to hide?

Part of me wants to walk around like a Queen. Like I want to fool myself and others into believing nothing is different.

So far though – I seem to only be able to imagine people running from me, screaming in horror. I've put a whole new spin on the definition of "shallow".

Should be a fun few days huh? 

Monday, April 25, 2011

Weekends in nutshells or something like that.

Hello Skittles!

It’s Monday and get this??! I’m in a good mood! Alert the media. Get the straight jacket off of me. Get out your bowls to catch all the farted gumdrops!

Now the question is – why am I in a good mood? No idea. Isn’t that even better?

Today is our last appointment before we get our lasik surgery on Thursday so that’s fun.

I have been drafting and drawing all weekend for a huge art project I’m going to be doing and that is always exciting. Rambo took me a cutesy store in a cutesy town once and I fell in love with a piece of artwork there. Lots of bright colors, words of inspiration, tons of woodburning. Hmmm…turns out there must be gold underneath all the pretty stuff because the price tag was nearly $2000.00. Yah, um…any idea how many purses and shoes I can buy with that?

Soooo – being the wannabe Martha Stewart I am – I am positive I can make one that looks damn close with my own spin on it and my own personalization and words and all that – for a fraction of the cost. Hence the drawings and lists and working with Rambo to figure out the best way to make this thing. It’ll be almost 4 ft by 5ft so it’s BIG.

And I have a deadline. Of course I do right? A perfectionist you cannot be without a deadline. This isn’t all fun and games. It has to be done by May 21st.

Why May 21st? Well that brings me to what I alluded to on Friday – about taking some major steps towards fighting my social anxieties. I’m having a jewelry party to help out a friend. I’m hosting. Like at MY house. Where I live. The invite list is up to 50 already.

Do you have any idea the anxiety and hives an event like this in MY home will bring to me?

Oodles doesn’t begin to cover it. But dammit – it’ll be fun. And I’m going to do it. And you can bet your ass that piece of artwork better be hanging on the wall for it. (Um Jenny – will you come help me clean pleeeassse? And feed me tequila mixed with Xanax?) I don’t even wear the jewelry because I have so many pieces on that I never take off so all the free stuff I get I’m giving away. That’s even more fun!

This weekend I also got bored and decided to wallpaper block an entire wall. It turned out pretty cute. Again – I’m so bad with pictures but I gotta take some so you can see it. I went to a store and grabbed two old wallpaper sample books. Then I painstakingly went through them and picked out my faves. Then one by one – I pasted each block up – overlapping and turning them in different directions and adding a border here and there. I used wallpaper blocks that look like rocks, brick and wood slats and then solids and other patterns too. It turned out cute….sounds ridiculous but it’s unique.

How I’ll ever get it off when I get sick of it is a complete mystery. Eek.

I also went to Rambo’s family Easter this weekend. In the true spirit of being hicks – we deep fried broccoli and Reeses eggs and onion rings and mushrooms and ham rollups. And to top that off we shot guns all afternoon. Rambo even brought out the AK-47. And Banana even shot the damn thing. Mother of the year right here people. Ugh.

I didn’t even get hives. I willed myself not to. Did you fall off your chair in shock?

19 weeks until I run my half marathon…time to start thinking of a training program me thinks.

Oh and I am also Mother of the Year because I left the tags on my kids Easter outfits that the “Easter Bunny” left them. Watermelon so shrewdly asked me if I went out and bought everything in their baskets – um – because of the tags. I said, “No way – duh – the tags are left on so we can return them if we want. The Easter Bunny shops where we do cuz he’s very smart like that.”

She bought it. Thank God.

Lastly, I finally finished up buying my sister’s graduation present. Because I have two brothers – who have penises – they will no doubt have no idea what to get her so I’ve emailed them with ideas and told them if they give me money I’ll do the shopping. It’s what she deserves. She’d be incredibly sad if they didn’t remember to get her something for such a huge occasion.

I was telling my mom my ideas and she said that my older brother realized he had promised a friend he’d be her date for a wedding on the same date as my sister’s graduation.

So stupid me – I said – “Oh, so he’s not coming to graduation anymore?”

My mom – aghast – with hand on her heart said, “No way. He can’t NOT come to the graduation. He can’t miss it.”

And being the ass I am lately, I truthfully replied, “Yes, he could.” And I turned away and made myself shut up.

It’s not worth it. The hurt is mine and I’ve got to learn to let go or I’ll never make it through that day. It is NOT about ME. I have to turn the selfishness off….sigh. No matter what I say – there will never be a reason given as to why it was okay he was allowed to miss mine. It doesn’t even matter anymore.

So that’s it – my weekend in a big fat nutshell. I shall not admit how much Easter candy I consumed…(cuz I lost count after 50 Reeses).

Friday, April 22, 2011

BYOC Friday!!!!! ♥♪ Bring Your Own Crazy ♥♪

Anyone remember BYOC? It’s this thing I *usually* post every Friday – so we can get to know each other better and to give our blog brains a break…but I’ve missed a few due to my life being batshit crazy. Anywhoozle…let’s get back to it today…Bring Your Own Crazy!!!

Post on your own blog if you wish and ENJOY!

1. In the spirit of Easter – tell me – what is your all time favorite Easter candy?

• Reeses eggs are pretty high up on my list – solely for the egg shape BUT I recently discovered little chocolate eggs with Butterfinger chips in them. I mean – they are the perfect “shove the whole thing in your mouth” size. YUMMO!

2. What is your Zodiac sign?

• Is it horrible that I had to look this up? I mean I know the name of what I am but not what the actual symbol is. I’m a Libra and apparently that means my symbol is the scales. Who knew?

3. Are you holding on to something you should let go of?

• Um…how about Drazil? Sheniqua? Yes. I should kick both their azzes to the curb.

Ah, but seriously – YES. Probably too many things to list. Throughout the drama with my sister and her graduation, I’ve definitely learned I’m hanging on to bitterness and rejection and jealousy – from freaking decades ago. What a load to carry along with the present day shit. Who needs that?

The second thing that comes to mind is the pain over the loss of “things” due to the flood at my childhood home. I plan to remedy this by going back there one last time – to say goodbye and to let go – before it is torn down. I even have it planned in my calendar for April 30th. Let’s hope it works.

I’ve got quite a few other things but these are at the top of the list. I’m a good “hanger-onner” and not a real good “let-go-er”. Dammit.

4. What are three “nevers” you follow in your life?

• Never stop buying purses and shoes. (no matter how much weight I gain or lose – these two things always fit)
• Never go anywhere without backup chocolate and an extra pair of underwear (don’t ask)
• Never ever let anyone in my life wonder how I feel about them

Oh and just one more – never ever tell the secret of how to fart gumdrops.

5. Repeat question: Summarize your week in blog land and in real life.

Blog land has been contemplative for me. The show I watched has really got me thinking deeply and the post I wrote about my sister/mom convo still feels pretty raw and I appreciated all the advice and empathy more than you know. Oh and yes – I’ve been sucktastic at commenting again. Geez.

Real life is just like blog life for me. I’m filled with thoughts and fresh emotions. Rambo is playing Elmer Fudd so I feel alone – even though I’m not. Easter is coming and I’m afraid I’ll eat my weight in chocolate bunnies and afraid we’ll have to hide the eggs in snow. But Rambo is off of work and next week is lasik surgery and all I can do is keep moving on. My diet has been great this week so that’s a start.

Oh and I miss Jenny. I haven’t heard her voice in a few days – which is rare – and it makes things feel off. But even so – I can feel her with me and I know she feels the same. We’re never really apart and the best part about us – is that there are no expectations or guilt if life is crazy. The love and the bond remains. How’s that for sappy?

Oh oh - one more thing - I did TWO things that are major in the way of combatting my social anxiety!  Can't wait to tell you about it Monday!

Happy Easter my Skittles!

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Nothing changes if nothing changes....

Do any of you watch Addicted To Food on Opr@h’s new network? I have to admit I’m now addicted to the show. (That pisses me off slightly in that I have somehow over the course of our current Prez’s campaign – lost some of my love for Opr@h...but I digress)

At any rate – the show has brought up some demons of mine and though I’ve tried to squash them and put them away – they keep coming back up. Draz and my inner demons are nothing if not persistent. Dammit.

I don’t really understand how I’m going to heal if Drazil won’t stay hidden. I’d like to continue living in the Land of Denial but he’s making it impossible. He’s such an azzhole.

So – the jist of the show for those of you who haven’t seen it – is a 6 week inpatient therapy home for anyone with an eating disorder. This includes bulimia, anorexia and compulsive over-eating. They are all grouped together because the founder believes they all have the same issue with food – it just manifests itself differently.

Throughout their stay they are required, of course, to follow a strict diet and work out some (they do not get to know their weight gains/losses) but mostly they take part in group therapy and they receive assignments as the counselors get to know them.

This is where it gets icky for me. I found myself wanting to curl up in the fetal position as I saw some of these “assignments” handed out. Though they seem cruel – they are not – and they work. BUT if I had to do any of them – I’d go nutso. Plain old crazy Jane – in probably .2 seconds.

Therein lies the problem. The fact that the thought of these assignments being given to me makes me want to go all Exorcist on anyone within a 1 mile radius – is a bad, bad thing. Bad – but not un-fixable.

Here are some examples of the assignments:

One of the women has a problem with stuffing her feelings inside. Never asking for help. Never reaching out. Handling everything on her own. Never wanting to burden anyone. Never feeling she’s worth enough to bother anyone with her pain. Appearing strong and confident. When inside she is dying and she’s killing herself with laxatives and is severely underweight. Her assignment?

To wear a blindfold for a week… force her to ask for help. To force her to reach out and know she can’t do it alone. To force her to see people can and will help. To force her to see people want to...if only she’ll let them. To force her to trust someone besides herself.

You see this girl try to eat – with a blindfold on. You see her try to maneuver around a room – with a blindfold on. When others ask if she needs help – she remains steadfast and foolishly says, “Nope – I think I can handle it.” Until she realizes she can’t even see what’s on her plate much less cut it or pick it up to eat. She asks for help. Others gladly give it. She is humbled without even knowing it.

The blindfold works.

Another woman talks. Incessantly. Non-stop. About nothing and everything. It is her wall. She wants people to love her but they can never get close enough because she keeps them out with talk. Never a silent moment. Never getting beyond the talk. It is her survival mechanism…because behind the talk is massive pain…but she hides it with talk.

They show her gardening and the whole time she is talking – to no one. She never stops talking. And her assignment?

She cannot talk for a week.

Holy God in heaven…just typing that gives me hives.

The point is if she isn’t talking she’ll have to feel. She’ll have to listen. She’ll have no wall and others will see what is under the talk. She will have to sit with herself and her pain...and she’s never done that before.

In fact, when they give her the assignment – she knows why – and she calmly says, “I don’t think I talk too much to hide my pain. I think they are wrong.”

One day later – she is nearly brought to her knees. She feels isolated, alone, and desperate. She wants to go home. She is feeling pain – in massive amounts. She can’t talk over it, around it or through it. She has to sit with it. And it nearly kills her.

Another woman has a brother who died tragically and for years she has felt the pressure to heal her parent’s grief over that – and in turn, has never grieved herself. If not for her life – she is convinced – her parents would have killed themselves over their grief. She is crumbling over the pressure. She is everything to everyone to fill the void her brother left but she is nothing to herself.

They tell this woman to go over to a stack of pillows and to think of the pillows as the amount of grief and pressure she feels over her brother’s death…and to pick up how many represent that. She picks up all of the pillows – there are 4 large ones.

Her assignment? To carry them all week….like she carries the grief every day – to show her just how much it inhibits her life.

She thinks it’s a joke. She feels like she’s 5 and she’s being punished. But the metaphor rings true.

Another man there has a problem with never saying no or saying how he really feels. He eats all of that away and is dangerously diabetic. He has lost the feelings in his toes and he will soon lose the feeling in his hands – and his career? He’s a musician who plays a guitar.

His assignment? To wear HUGE gloves for a week – to show him what his life would be like if he continues down this path – if he continues killing himself with food. All week, just the most menial of tasks is difficult. Holding a fork, washing, reading – anything.

His other assignment? He is to wear a sign that says he can ONLY talk if he is telling you how he feels. He can ONLY share his feelings – 24/7. It is incredibly difficult. Sometimes he doesn’t even know how to form the words – because the concept is so foreign to him.

So yes – I can calmly and rationally say if I was made to do any one of those assignments – I’d crumble within a day. I’d be brought to my knees in short order.

The biggest one for me is the talking. I can’t NOT talk. I can’t let you in beyond the talk. I can’t be silent in a room with you – because you might find out or ask something I can’t handle the answer to. Though I want and need you beyond the talk – I’ll never let you in that far. I just can’t.

And blindfolded – being required to reach out and not only ask for help but NEED it? Well – hell to the no. I can’t be that crippled or that out of control. I can’t trust anyone enough to do that. I have to fight for myself – because no one else ever did right?

Only talking about my feelings – and nothing else? Not mundane, stupid things that don’t matter? ONLY what I feel? No one wants to hear that and I can’t express it. That’s just crazy talk.


I have a long way to go, don’t I?

How about you? Could you do these assignments? Do they bring up feelings of dread and fear? Can you ask yourself why --- and can you answer?

Remember….nothing changes if nothing changes….

....and though the pain of actually thinking about doing these assignments seems unbearable...NOT doing them seems even worse....and I think that's progress right?

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

I Wish Wednesday...

Ima gonna do an “I Wish Wednesday” since I haven’t done one in a while. I’m going to list the things I wish I could say or do here because I can’t do or say them in real life. Should be fun – feel free to join in on your own blog.

• I wish I had something super fantastically cool to write about. I think I’m going to steal an idea from my little, good friend Dizzy. I say little cuz she’s like a tiny pea pod – all skinny and sassy and always fighting to stay that way. Anywhoozle…the other day on her blog she asked her readers if they had any questions for her and I thought that was a stellar idea. It was sooo cool to see her answer them because I totally feel like I got to know her better. So – because I don’t have an original idea to save my ass – I’m wondering if you guys have any questions for me that I haven’t ever answered or something you’d like to know about me. Ask away – I’ll answer tomorrow.

• I wish I could have taped Rambo’s convo with his Elmer Fudd turkey hunting buddy last night. I’m not kidding. They were calling each other “man” and “buddy” and I heard things like “I cannot wait”. “I’m so excited.” “I’m so looking forward to this.” “I want to make out with you.” Okay - I made that last one up. The others were real. I sat on the couch and I literally yelled out loud, “Please stop making love to each other on the phone. Are you going to sniff each other’s butts when you meet in the woods tomorrow?” Good God.

Rambo says I’m jealous. Um no. Getting up at 5am when it’s my day off and it’s 30 degrees outside to whisper like a bunch of jackasses in the woods is not something I’m jealous of. Add a hot purse and stiletto heels and some chocolate into the mix and I could maybe be swayed into jealousy.

• I wish I had more energy – so as to work out and so as to have the stamina to kick Martha Stewart’s ass. Her office is right across from mine and while I have mentioned before that she is proper beyond belief – as in like her underwear matches her napkins which match her perfect jewelry and makeup and her perfect umbrella and on and on. BUT when it comes to the etiquette of blowing one’s nose like a princess – Jesus F*ck – I want to kill her. Explosive man is blowing up on one side of my office and Martha Stewart is blowing her nose like a whale on the other side. I need and want to work in a bomb shelter. I will never understand Miss Martha and her nose. I just don’t get it.

• I wish I could fix my cholesterol all on my own with diet and exercise. Wait a minute – I can. Let me re-phrase that. I wish I had the self control and will power to fix my cholesterol all with diet and exercise. For now, I’m trying this new powder stuff called Bios Life. Now yes – in full disclosure – it has dual powers. It’s supposed to keep you full but it doesn’t replace meals like Slimfast or Herbalife does. And it only has 15 cals. Quite a few people here have taken it and swear by its ability to straighten out their cholesterol numbers so I’m going to give it a shot. If it keeps me full – well then – bonus for me right?

I’ve heard it keeps women regular too but as soon as they start talking about being regular I stick my fingers in my ears and yell “lalalala” loudly so I can’t hear them talk about poop like it’s just something we should all talk about at work. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Poop is never to be talked about anywhere at any time. You feel me?

• I wish I could say “you feel me” like I just did above all the time. It’s so fun to say. And I could whip out some gangsta hand signs when I said it and look all badass at the same time. Yes? Okay fine – no.

• I wish to say that Rambo’s job is reedick sometimes. Yesterday he had to go to SWAT training….8 hours in the pouring rain, then sleet, wind and then snow. In full riot gear and gas masks and such. Can you say yuckarooni? The reedick part? Well – he came home and told me at one point they were training about being super aware of their surroundings…which makes total sense right?

The way they trained this was to put towels over their helmets and heads so they couldn’t see a damn thing and they still had to find the “bad guy”. Can you imagine the sight of a bunch of men in black riot gear head to toe, helmets, gas masks, in the pouring rain with towels over their heads? Imagine what one might think if you drove by and saw that? Wow. I mean I get it and all but the actual sight of it must look crazy.

• Lastly I wish to say that I wish every woman alive got to do what I do almost every night when I get home. I bet you’re thinking it’s something fan-freaking-tabulous right? Well no. Just to me I guess. I come home. I set my bags down. I go into our bedroom and I strip down to naked. I get in bed and I cover up and lay down.

In no less than 5 minutes later, Rambo comes in. He stops whatever he was doing and he comes in – and he gets under the covers with me and he holds me and sometimes we talk and other times we say nothing. The girls usually come in and out a dozen times and other times they think we’ve disappeared. It can be 5 minutes or up to 30 but it’s the end of my work day. It means I conquered another day professionally. It means I can relax now. It means I am loved. It washes away the whole day. It means I am home. And I wish everyone had that feeling every day. I’ve come to figure out that without it – things seem skewed. And with it? Things seem….just right.

That’s it for me! What do YOU wish for this Wednesday?

Oh and don't forget to ask me any questions you might have!

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Defining your kind of ass....

Sucktastic and shitabulous.

Yup – those two words sum up April in a nutshell. March sucked a fat baby’s ass too so I was all gung ho for April and now? I want it over.

Yes, yes – this is me – living in future mode again – wanting today and the next few weeks over so I can feel just slightly like myself again soon. Cuz lately – I feel like a frog filled with way too much air – about to explode.

I have found myself lately – in such desperation to shed my extra winter pounds – that I’m looking at diet pills and quick fads. I even found one where all you drink is lemon water mixed with syrup for like 2 weeks or something. Really? You lose weight on that? Shocker. No food for 14 days. Imagine that.

But no – I won’t buy any or do any. I know what works. I just have to start doing “what works”. Novel idea huh?

The night before Rambo walked in after his 5 mile walk and nonchalantly said to me, “Man, I wish we could afford Nutrisyst-m. I just talked to Dan and he’s lost 40 lbs on it and he says it’s easy.”

If you’ve ever wanted to see my head spin around and smoke come out of my ears – well, you should have been there the moment after he said that. Jesus F*ck. Are you serious?

I said (in my haughty, all knowing, holier than thou, I’m the Queen of diets voice) – Atkins is easy. Weight Watchers is easy. SlimFast is easy. Eating only boogers is easy. Working out can be easy. As I’m sure Nutrisystem is “easy”.

I nearly punched him in the balls and threw the remote at him. Granted – this was right after my mom/sister talk – but still.

I’ve literally mapped out every diet known to mankind for him in the past and he does great – and then stops. We can afford Nutrisystem idiot – we just aren’t gonna. Hmm - purses or Nutrisyst-m. What a dilemma!

He just doesn’t want it bad enough. His extra 30 lbs doesn’t hinder him. He’s even running a race in June. He is active and works out and all his medical numbers are good too. There’s no reason beyond vanity at this point to make him want to do the extra work. Never mind the fact that some day his medical numbers will not be okay. There is that little tidbit I suppose. (eye roll)

I can’t blame him. Lately I don’t want it bad enough either. I’m 3 years out from my lowest weight and my tummy tuck and I weigh 20 lbs more now than I did then. Smart to spend $5000 on oneself and then just let go isn’t it?

I’m not even mindless eating. I’m completely mindful. When I run my bath full of Skittles and climb in to sit and eat my bowl of Heath and cookies & cream ice cream – I completely know what I’m doing. I am fully aware that I am NOT hungry at all. I even talk to myself and say those words.

I’m not kidding. Last nite – bath running – ice cream bowl in hand I said out loud to myself – “You’re not hungry. When will you decide you are good enough to get healthy for yourself? When?” Then I shut up because talking out loud to oneself in the bathroom is kind of frowned upon if you want people to assume you’re sane.

And I turned away – because I can’t stand to look at myself much these days.

I do think it’s about time though. I have my meals planned out and none of my kids are in the hospital. Tax time for the two other jobs is over. Soon I’ll be all sassy cuz I won’t have to wear glasses anymore. I’ll want to wear skimpy tanks on the back of the Harley.

I have to admit my size 8s are tight. That sucks green donkey dicks with cheese on top.

It is time to go back to what I know works. It is time to do this for me because I’m worth it.

I want to be the girl who lost all the weight by working her ass off – not the girl who gained it all back because she started sitting on her ass.

Which brings me to ask – what kind of ass do you have? The one that gets worked off or the one that gets in a lot of sitting??

Or do you wanna be the kind of ass that farts gumdrops? I hear that’s fun too.

Let's do numbers today....

…it’ll be fun…I promise.

1. I forgot my purse today. What woman on Earth forgets their entire purse? I feel like I’m missing an appendage or something. Have you guys ever done that? Does it bug you all day? Should I go buy a new one quick to appease myself? It’s completely warranted right?

2. Thank you so much for your comments yesterday. That sounds so lame to say because I say it so often but there aren’t other words. Yesterday the conversation with my mom seemed so fresh and raw and it hurt to think about and that pain and desperation came out in my writing. As of today, I still feel regret for saying anything but I think in a few days I’ll realize it was what my heart needed. And for once…I gave a voice to my feelings…and I have always believed that can never be wrong.

3. Next weekend is Easter. Today we are supposed to get 2 to 6 inches of snow. Really? Won’t Easter egg hunting in snowboots be fun? What happened to global warming Mr. Al Gore? He should be kicked in the nuts. (if I was sure he had them, I would be happy to do the kicking)

4. Rambo and I went shopping last week and I got a new D&G purse and in that same store Rambo found something I hated – and he bought it anyway. Yup – it’s a girl store. Only thing in it is purses.

While I only speak about politics on my FB wall and in real life, let’s just suffice it to say I’m a conservative Republican (though I veer off party lines on some topics) and so is everyone in my family. So you can obviously gather that I’m no fan of our current Prez…nor is anyone in my family – especially my mom.

Rambo found a purse with Ob*ma’s picture on it. He bought it – for my mother – for Mother’s Day. She will probably throw up. He thinks it’s funny. I can’t believe I spent money on such a thing. My brothers may disown me – joke or not.

Funny thing is when we bought it the guy at the counter said, “No one wants these. I can’t sell them. I will not buy anymore for my store.” I made sure he knew I wasn't happy to be buying it either.  I almost high-fived the dude but I managed to repress it.

5. Have any of you heard of Sylvia Brown? She’s a well known psychic and she’s coming to my area. I so badly want to go but I’m afraid she may tell me “my future”. Like how some day I may really learn how to fart gumdrops and be instantly hauled into famous stardom because of it and all the world will find out who Draz is. I’m sure it’ll make the news. (ego much?)

6. Rambo had to work a double shift last night and we had a Board meeting. He’s the Prez so normally runs the meeting. Imagine my anxiety knowing he couldn’t come and I’d have to run the meeting? Still - I did it. I wanted to run said meeting from under the table – but I did not. Can you believe it?

7. I went downstairs to tan last night, therefore, today I look like a lobster. Goes really good with the white *&^% snow outside. In my crazy head – tan makes my cellulite appear smaller than it really is…so being lobster-ish is totally worth it seeing as how cellulite has taken over my life lately.

8. My assistant at the full time job - had the balls to bring in Reeses eggs and fill up the candy jar. I should have her fired. I kid you not – had they been regular Reeses – I wouldn’t touch them. But because some azzhole shaped them like a godd*mn egg – I am shoving them in as fast as they’ll go. It’s sick I tell you. Sick.

9. Did you guys know that when you enter kindergarten, it is required that you walk into the classroom on your own two feet? I have a child – Banana – who gives grouchy in the mornings new definition. I wake her up and she starts in with, “I need to sleep more. I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want to put shoes on. I don’t want to go in the car. I hate mornings. I hate waking up. I hate moving. To the final – I hate walking.”

She stands at the top of the steps and refuses to walk. Carry me Mama….she says with her eyes half shut and Hannah Montana pajamas.

Sure – no problem – let me just first put your overnight bag in the car. And then my bag. And then my purse. Along with lunch for the day. Oh and your blanket and stuffed animals. Oh and you want to take a purse?

Jesus, Mary and Joseph….walk your cute ass into the car before I cut your legs off! Yup – mother of the year right here. Won’t next year be fun when she’s required to actually walk into school – on her own? Kill me now.

10. Nothing to say here. I just hate odd numbers so I can’t end with a 9. Rambo is off the next few days playing Elmer Fudd in the woods hunting turkeys. Wonder what turkeys think of the snow? In effing April. One week before Easter.

I bet the Easter Bunny is off kicking Old Man Winter’s ass into the ground right now for ruining his holiday. Rightly so if you ask me.

Xoxo – my Skittles…I love you all.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

More poop...and the lack of fallouts.

It’s no secret I can’t pat myself on the back to save my ass. I’ve actually seen a couple of blogs lately where the intent and purpose of the post is literally to write a positive letter to oneself – about accomplishments, appearance, mental work, integrity, workouts, diet – anything that oneself might have been stellar at lately and I read those posts and I wonder how they do it.

And the posters – bless their hearts – have asked that other posters try and do the same on their blog. I love the posts. I love the idea of the posts. I believe they are noteworthy and necessary and absolutely true. I want to be those people who can write that. I really do.

But I can’t do it. Not right now. I will admit I even tried. I wanted to be able to. And yet I stared at a blank screen for 15 minutes – so I gave up. Self-love remains elusive to me. That is not to say I possess self-hate though…not like I used to anyway. I’m just saying I’m in the purgatory of self-loving stages….but I plan to keep moving up.

What’s my point? Well my point is that while I cannot write myself a self-love letter of any kind – I am getting better at recognizing how I’m changing in good ways. Today I’m getting better at being proud of that. I’m going to allow myself to say “Good Job Draz” – you knocked this one out of the park.

Because…well I did.

I have stated before that my dependency on Rambo when we first got married was unhealthy and literally brought me to my knees until I was bedridden. HE was my happiness. My reason for living and breathing. I had no identity other than “the person married to Rambo”. My identity was wrapped so tightly around him that without a “him” – there was no me. When he left to go over the road for months in a semi days after our wedding – I nearly died. Literally died – in bed – not eating or moving or working. There was no me to live for. I had forgotten who I was or why I existed. And the death that hung over me in a dark cloud – was exacty what I wanted. I wanted to die because without Rambo every day in my life physically close to me – I didn’t want to live.

Imagine the suffocation and pressure he must have felt knowing my life depended on his? Keep a job, pay the bills, remain stable, work 100 hours a week, take care of your family – oh and by the way – be the reason another human on this Earth stays alive.

Obviously I fought my way out with help and I learned to find me. My identity, passions, career – life. I learned to live FOR me WITH Rambo…not because of him. It was thee absolute hardest thing I have ever done. And it is still a work in progress to not want 24 hours of every day to be spent in his arms next to him. It is where I feel the safest – but it’s not realistic or smart or healthy. For either of us.

I’m lucky in that Rambo has always wanted to spend as much time with me as I with him BUT it is never possible with the work ethic he has. He has worked insane hours throughout his life so being together was impossible a lot – no matter how much either of us wanted it. Knowing he missed me with the same depth was very comforting though.

Suffice it to say that in the past when Rambo went hunting or bowling or something – I hurt. Badly. I took it as a personal jab against me that he was going out so as not to be with me. He didn’t love me enough to stay with me every second of every day that he wasn’t working. I wasn’t good enough. I barely saw him as it was – and when he chose to go somewhere without me – it was like a dagger in my heart.

What a bunch of bullshit. Rambo doesn’t have the ability to hurt me if he tried. He can’t do it. He never has. If the man goes hunting or bowling or whatever – it’s because he loves doing it, loves the people he does it with and has fun. Period. Plain and simple. He never goes with women, never gets drunk, never spends too much money and calls me a couple times when he’s gone even. He’s nearly perfect. He doesn’t even do it very often – maybe a couple times a year. He has never given me a reason to worry – ever. (So I do my best to make things up. LOL.)

How the hell I turned something he loves on occasion into something terrible is beyond me. But I did. And before he’d go bowling or to softball I’d pick a fight or put a major guilt trip on him. He even quit bowling altogether after a while. It had nothing to do with him – and everything to do with me. My insecurities. My selfless depression. My need to make everything a personal hit on me. Years of never feeling like enough before Rambo ever existed in my life.

I could take the simplest things and make them in my mind – into him not wanting to be with me. And it was ridiculous. And unfair. And I can’t believe I ever did that to him now – looking back. I was not the easiest person to live with…I’m amazed some days that he stayed.

Anywhoozle – onto the good stuff. I’ve worked hard on this over the years…my feelings that I attach to a situation that are completely invalid. When Rambo walks out the door to go do something he loves I want him to be happy and go off with a light heart and no guilt and have fun – and come home feeling the same way. He deserves that so much more than I can articulate for the things he’s given me over and over and over….willingly, unselfishly, relentlessly.

I would like to now report that I have officially conquered this dilemma I’ve had since the moment I met Rambo. Let me tell you why.

At heart, Rambo is a farmer. Once you’re a farmer – it’s in your blood. When I was 15 and dating Rambo, some nights the only way I could see him was to sit in the middle of the barn on a hay bale and talk to him while he milked cows for hours. In between every couple of cows finishing up – he’d come kiss me – and go back to milking and we’d talk the whole time. He worked his ass off. In fact, when Rambo’s Dad was called to serve in the Gulf War, Rambo was given permission to only go to high school for a few hours a day as he was suddenly in charge of running the family farm by himself – at 17 – while his Dad was at war. The milking, crops, land, his mother – all of it – was on his shoulders at 17. A couple of news places even did interviews with him because it was a heck of a story.

Anyway – he started out a farmer and he’ll always have it in his blood. Last night was proof of that.

Rambo and I have PT jobs that involve a sewer company for our Village. Rambo is the President of the Board for this company. I am the treasurer. It requires him basically to go to meetings and not much else – but Rambo does WAY more than that. He visits the plant, helps the plant manager and gives endless hours to the task. He loves it and giving back to our community is just a bonus.

Last night the plant manager was hauling sludge. Yes people I understand the irony of me and Rambo working for a poop company – the humor of me hating poop is not lost on me.

Hauling sludge (human poo) is lots of trips in a huge tractor and spreading the sludge in fields. It takes all night. Rambo saw our plant manager making the trips. I was in the office working and I heard him yell, “Baby – is it alright if I go ride with C in the tractor hauling sludge for a while?”

I asked how long. He said not long.

You should have heard the excitement in his voice.

I said do you have your cell phone? He said yes.

And he ran in and kissed me and said, “Love you – see you in a bit – I’m gonna go.”

This is the good part girls.


I even kissed him back and said, “Have fun”.

He left and I nearly fell off my chair realizing what I had just done. No tears or guilt trips or hateful words or selfishness. No planning, no warning…just a spontaneous outing. I let him go.

Even better? I didn’t miss him. I mean I missed him but I didn’t even look at the clock. I kicked ass through village work and got caught up. I read blogs. I had ME time. I gave the girls baths.

If you ask me what time he got back – I couldn’t tell you – because before I knew it I heard the door open and he came in and kissed me hello and couldn’t shut up about how much fun he had.

Score one for me. I owed Rambo that one…and quite a few more.

I did good people.

Oh and when I said my life is all about poop – I wasn’t kidding. Karma hates me.

Now come on – tell me how proud you are of me for doing something you all probably do every damn day without even flinching.

Now you understand why I can’t write a self-love letter right? I have so much yet to learn and be….so much work left to do.

The fact that Rambo knew he could literally run out the door without me falling apart? Well…in a way – that IS a self-love letter to me. Years ago Rambo wouldn’t have attempted that. The fallout wouldn’t have been worth it.

And now? There is no fallout!

YAY ME!!! Right?

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Bullets for my boogers.

It feels like a bullet kind of day my little boogers.

• Does anyone find it strange that I can’t stand to barely type, think about or whisper the words “poop” or “puke” BUT I have no problem typing, saying or calling anyone a booger? Hmmm.

• Um get this….Watermelon is at school. Banana is at daycare. Rambo is at work. I am at work. No one is sick. I’m not sure what to do with that info as it’s so new and odd and freaking refreshing. I’m about to start farting Skittles like a machine gun spits out ammo because I’m so overjoyed.

• I made myself a new CD with all my fave songs on it. I just want to say right now that I want to sit in my car all day, eat cookies, drink Mountain Dew and sing at the top of my lungs. You should hear Banana belt out the words to “All the Single Ladies” by Beyonce. It makes my heart soar.

I am fat. Do not all gasp in horror. It seemingly happened overnight. After the M&M debacle. And since they put calories in Skittles. The good news is I can remedy this. But for this week, I shall remain fat. It is recovery week after all. I have official permission to feed the fat and remain fat and love being fat. Weehaw!

• Rambo and I are getting lasik eye surgery at the end of this month. This is all in an effort to overload my brain, my life and my general system until it shuts down completely. And also to see just how many times one person can be in or go to a doctor’s office in one month’s time. No really – it’s so we can ride the Harley wearing hot and sassy sunglasses. Ditto for swimming in my bestie’s pool. And for not wearing glasses when I run. And to better make googley eyes at Rambo from across the room…or something like that.

Speaking of which – at the eye appt on Monday – we waited one hour and were sitting by ourselves for a bit and Rambo leaned over and whispered, “Wanna make out in the corner?” Idiot. This from the same man who thought we should try to do it in the hospital. Sick and twisted…yet sweet I suppose.

Oh and the eye thing – get this! The doc asked Rambo his reasons for wanting the surgery. Did you know that when Rambo suits up in riot gear and goes in on an inmate he has to take his damn glasses off so he can wear his gas mask???? What the holy hell? He’s blind without them! And he’s suiting up and beating on an inmate without glasses???? JESUS. I did NOT know that until he told the doctor that. Some inmate was pissed his egg roll didn’t “look” right so he took it upon himself to throw his food and tray out his trap door at the guards and they ended up having to suit up on him and using gas. Wow huh?

• Rambo got the Harley out of storage and has lovingly cleaned every square inch of it. He wants us to ride it to Jenny’s so Jenny can take pictures of me on it with her stellar eye and camera. Naked on a Harley in Jenny’s back yard – yes, yes…Jenny would love that. He is such a penis.

• In case you were wondering – my ass cheeks still hurt from my migraine pain shots. I should probably call the news.

• Explosive Man stopped in my office to ask how my family was. Turns out he was sick too. Remember – this is the man who blows up EVERY time he goes in the bathroom EVERY day….so stupid me – I ask him, “Oh – did you have the flu too?” And then I wanted to crawl under a desk because I swear to God if he told me he had diarrhea I was going to scream “OH YOU MEAN LIKE YOU DO EVERY DAY right outside my effing door???” That’s not the flu – that’s your LIFE…and mine too thanks to you. Thank goodness Explosive Man simply said he had a fever. Bullet dodged.

* Also last night I was looking for more blogs to follow and found some cool ones.  Is it just me or when you find a new blog are you completely jealous of how cool it looks and feels and think "OMG - why didn't I think of that?  How come I can't write like that?  Would it be completely wrong to copy all of this and pretend I was this creative?"  No?  Yah.  Me neither. 

• On a slightly serious note….if you’re a long-time reader of mine, then you know my parents lost their entire house in a flood a few years ago and were forced to live with me, then in a camper and then finally to a new, beautiful house. You also know that the flooded, condemned and abandoned house still stands and I have to drive by it every day. Some days I don’t even look at it and some days I can’t stop looking at it. Some days I drive by and smile. Others I drive by and cry.

The paperwork from FEMA was finally completely just a few months ago and the government now officially owns the house. It is scheduled to be torn down soon. Before that happens – we need to say a final goodbye. My mom wants me to go with her and my sister will go too because if they tear it down and we don’t go back one last time – we’ll all regret that.

I need to run my hands over the walls in my old room and walk through the muddy kitchen and close my eyes and say thank you for the memories. I need to let last time before it is gone. I need to be grateful we all survived and maybe, just maybe I need to let go of some of the pain during that time. Some of the heartbreak and excruciating torment my heart felt at seeing my parents brought to their knees….because I fell too. Some things were said and done during that crisis that can’t be undone and I can’t forget…though I wish I could. The fact is – no matter the words and actions – we survived. There was immense generosity and good that made its way through the mud and muck too – and those are the moments I need to focus on.

That one day made me a different me. I don’t honestly know yet if I changed in a good or bad way and some parts of me still haven’t found a reason why but I refuse to stop looking. I still hang on bitterly to things like the fact that all my parent’s and mine and my sibling’s pictures are now gone and the fact that my parents were debt-free and suddenly forced to buy a new house and start over. I’m hoping when I go there to say goodbye one last time – that I let go of the physical home and the emotional burdens I still carry from that day. Please God – give me that ability. Please.

• Lastly – on a happy note – I worked in the yard last night. I have shitTONS of landscaping which translates into shitTONS of work but landscaping is something I can do all day and never notice the time. Mud, dirt, weeds, digging, planting….all of it is heaven to me.

Most of my landscaping is meaningful too. Rambo has spent entire days getting me driftwood from the rivers. I have a memorial garden with stones with all my loved ones names on them if they’ve passed away. A majority of the plants are from my relatives.

And? My mother was a HUGE landscaper too – almost ½ acre full of it. When the flood came – she had to leave most of it behind but we spent a good portion of sometimes every night in the summer going back there and digging up truck and trailer loads of plants to move to her new home and to mine. It was such hard work but we never stopped. It’s like we couldn’t leave them there – in the mud – never to be enjoyed by anyone again. I moved over 100 hostas alone to my house. And that many more to my moms and that was just hostas.

Anyway – my point is – last night as I pulled leaves and the winter off my plants – underneath I was given a surprise. All the little plants I painstakingly dug up, put in bags and transported home – lived. They are green and budding and I nearly cried at the sight of them. The flood didn’t take everything after all, my friends….

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Re-finding my fierce.

Hi Skittles!

Can we all just collectively say thank God Monday is behind us?

I suppose now that things are back to semi-normal…I should start confessing.

Confessing what you ask?

Well how about we start with confessing what I’m having for breakfast?

Are you ready? *sigh* Here goes.

Almond M&Ms and Mountain Dew. Breakfast of champions. I opted for the M&Ms with almonds…you know – for the protein and the amped up nutritional value.

While I do realize that my life has been….um how do you say it – orange BATSHIT crazy lately (make the batshit orange and it sounds more fun)…it is NOT an excuse. It’s just not.

I mean really – can any of you imagine how much better I would have handled this shit storm (literally) had I been healthier? Maybe I could have even scrubbed poop off my daughter’s bed without making loud gagging noises because I would have seen my six pack ab reflection in the mirror at the end of her bed and I’d have been distracted enough not to notice that I was indeed scrubbing POOP!

As it was – I merely threw up in my mouth because of the poop and because the only reflection I saw was a muffin top.

As my little Banana was in the hospital – I was almost there myself. I ended up in the ER with a migraine before they admitted her and while she was in the hospital I ended up getting two pain shots in my ass. You should see my bruise. I make Rambo kiss it every night. Also – I’d just like to ask a random question here.

When I got my two shots in my ass – this is how it went down. Banana had already been in the hospital a day and a half. I had not showered and apparently I had forgotten what a comb is used for. I had on sweatpants and a shirt of Rambo’s that I was drowning in. I looked kind of like Roseanne Barr on crack and just about as grumpy.

Not to mention we sat in that doctor’s office for one hour before they got me in a room - for 30 seconds worth of shots. Rambo was nearly ready to suit up in riot gear and go all prison guard on their asses. I mean really? An hour? Clearly none of them EVER had a migraine with a child in the hospital at the same damn time – without combed hair.

And who is assigned the duty of giving me ass shots? A blonde, size 0 – so chipper and sweet I nearly shoved those shots into her eyes. She was too nice to hate….but believe me I tried. I stand up and drop my drawers thanking God I decided against wearing my trusty brown granny panties with the ripped edging – and stood there while Miss Perfect USA shot me up.

And to add humiliation to my lovely appearance and situation – I get nauseous. Like I drank a bottle of tequila room spinning – God help me – I’m going down nauseous. From shots in my ASS people. Who does that?

I was pale. They made me lay down. They gave me water. They were freaking out. I wanted to die – from the head pain or ass pain – I could have cared less. Just kill me now. I am being kept from my daughter in the hospital because I can’t handle ass shots.

Never mind I hadn’t eaten in a few days and was pooping like the Niagra Falls…still. Can’t I have a little dignity?

Anywhoozle, back to my point. I went some days without eating. The next day I’d eat nothing but sugar. We had to eat out or eat hospital food. I slept on the floor of the hospital (cots weren’t much better) so my back and neck are still killing me. I had no energy. I’m not sure I drank any water. I was listless and migraine filled. My body was screaming – DO SOMETHING. You can’t go on like this.

Still…I didn’t listen. I took comfort in not cooking which meant ordering out. Instead of working out – I worked on my jobs or worked on my napping skills. I told myself I deserved it. When my body told me I wanted to go out for a run – I told it to shut up. Who would run at a time like this? Only effing Wonder Woman and it’s pretty clear – I ain’t her.

An athlete would. A person who cares about their body would. A person who has embarked on a health journey would. A person committed to herself would. A mother who wants to be there for her kids would.

That person used to be me. That person is me.

Soon. I feel like this week is still “allow yourself to recover” week. I’m catching up at all the jobs. I’m getting my house back in order. I’m making a plan for food. I found my running shoes. I put new music on my MP3. I mapped out a new run route.

I learned a lot these past few weeks. Number one being I am far from perfect at anything. Number two being that my health is a priority. *I* am a priority. How I feel is a priority. Doing what it takes to get that back is a priority.

I won’t be doing anything crazy like putting down the M&Ms or anything BUT I might only eat 10 instead of the entire 2 lb. bag.

I feel my “fierce” coming back. Slowly but surely – as I tackle the piles of dust in my house and in my heart that have accumulated lately – I feel my inner athlete begging me to sweat and run and use this body I have been given.

How about you? How have you been treating your temple? Can you re-find YOUR fierce?

Saturday, April 9, 2011

My good God in heaven....

....what the holy hell just happened?

Life happened. 

Shit happened.

Lots and lots of shit people. 

I mean remember me?  I'm the biggest poop and puke hater of ALL TIME.  Typing the words makes me sick.  Seeing either of them makes me gag.  Both of them together in my sight is enough to make me pass out or run screaming.

And yet - the Karma Queen has decided that the last week of my life should revolve around puke and poop.  Even after Banana was released from the hospital, we were sent home with a toilet hat.

A toilet hat?  Who the hell invents something like that?  And who claims that?  Can you imagine writing "inventor of the toilet hat" on your resume?

For those of you who don't know - it catches poop and pee.  Jesus, Joseph and Mary.

Newsflash...those things are not meant to be "caught"....unless of course your 5 yr old can't stop pooping and is in the hospital.  Ugh.

Fine.  I'll catch the damn poop.

It's over people.  Banana is okay now. 

Interestingly enough - typing those four words just brought tears to rolling down my cheeks. 

It is over.  The drama, the hospital stay, the anxiety, the stress, the chaos.  All of it I didn't think I'd survive.

It's bad enough on its own but add in my social anxieties and my need for routine and I was close to losing my marbles. 

Thank God for Rambo - he never left my side...and we never left Banana's side.  The nurses all loved our little girl in her little purple hospital gown in that huge bed. 

I loved- and hated - the visitors.  At one point I was alone with Rambo's brother and I texted Jenny and said, "HELP - what am I supposed to do with this?  I need sleep and rest - why won't he leave?"

Jenny replied?  Tell him you need to go change your tampon - he'll leave immediately. 

So yah - thank God for Jenny too.  I was texting her non-stop and she was always with me.

In the middle of the hospital stay, I got another migraine and was given a pain shot in each of my ample butt cheeks.  You should see the bruise.  I've lost all my dignity officially now.

And now Rambo and I have what Banana had....and the toilet is where we live.  Cuz's my favorite place you know.  Wow.

Watermelon has remained unscathed - thank God.  Mentally she missed us and being home terribly.  She refused to come to the hospital because she couldn't see her little sister like that...which broke my heart.

Many people visited and sent flowers and all of you sent prayers and love and my co-workers called and on and on.  My Dad never came....for me or for Banana.  I never once thought he would.  He sent love from afar...and that has to be enough.

Regarding the situation with Watermelon and that lovely teacher's aide....the night we got home was parent-teacher conferences and the actual teacher finally said, "Mrs. B. said she told W she had no self-discipline and it was only a 30 second conversation and she didn't think the hallway was an appropriate place for the talk."

And you know what?  Rambo and I looked at each other and neither of us said a word.  Days of no sleep and not eating and worrying and feeling like shit ourselves - we had no fight left in us.  We probably failed Watermelon in that moment.  I'll always be sorry for that.

As of tonight I've caught up on what I missed for the 2 part time jobs.  I have cleaned the entire house with Rambo's help.  I have balanced our budget that hasn't been touched since this happened.  Tomorrow I plan to go into work for about 5 hours to catch up on what I missed all week.  Once that is done - I'll feel mentally better.  I'll feel "normal".  Like it's really and truly over.

The kitchen remodel is done.  Cleaned up.  Re-decorated.  Done.  Pictures will come when I have time to breathe again.

In the last week or so, there have been so many times I felt like I was hanging on by a thread and then I'd read one of your comments and feel your prayers.  Or a new visitor would come in.  Or a new text or phone call. 

Or I'd hear that an old friend's boyfriend was diagnosed with liver cancer....

And I'd realize this is temporary and I am blessed beyond words and nothing beyond love and people really matter.  With or without me - all 3 of my jobs went on.  My house stayed standing.  Other people's lives never stopped.  Life kept going.  The world kept turning.

This moment - the one right now - is really all we ever have.  The rest is just window dressing.  And that whole balance thing I sought out as a New Year's resolution is still completely foreign and out of my grasp right now.

One thing I do know is that soon -

I will fart gumdrops again.
I will have time for a Skittles bath.
I will find my way back to Care Bear Land.

And I will find balance.  I promise you that.

Thank you - from the bottom of Rambo's and my hearts - for your prayers last week. 

Monday, April 4, 2011

Defeated, weak...failing and flailing.

My weekend sucked donkey dicks. Big green ones.

You all know I’ve had a stressful few weeks and my weekend began with a doc telling me my blood pressure was sky high. It’s to be expected – I’m in the middle of a kitchen remodel right?

It all went downhill from there folks. Banana complained her ear hurt Friday so we took her to urgent care. Ear infection – her ear drum completely perforated. Ugh. She was up most of the night.

We all know lack of sleep and stress cause my migraines and by Saturday morning at 9am I had already taken two pain pills. I had a few hours of relief – and managed to paint my wall underneath the bar, my chairs and my table and the migraine came back. I took another pain pill and nothing. I sat in the bathtub and cried and Rambo knew we had to go to the ER. He just knows when it’s too much.

No one was able to watch our girls so they had to come with us. I wish that could have been avoided. I have a really high pain tolerance so when I get to the point of going to the ER – the pain is unbearable. And when we get to the point of going to the ER – I feel defeated. I feel weak. I feel pissed that it’s come to this. The time, the money, the waiting, my kids being scared, me unable to handle life – it’s safe to say I’ve pretty much lost it at that point.

My blood pressure that was high on Thursday – was 192 over 124 on Saturday….due to the pain they say. You think?

I laid there silently and the tears wouldn’t stop. I never made a sound so I wouldn’t scare the girls but I wanted to scream. I wanted to stop the tears but they kept on streaming through the washcloth they put on my eyes. And then all of a sudden I’d feel a tiny hand reach out and grab mine. And a little later I’d feel another little hand wipe my tears away. I’d hear a little voice say, “It’s going to be okay Mommy” and on the other side, I’d hear Rambo pull up a chair and feel him hold my other hand.

Even in my darkest moments – I am not alone. And while those instances are precious – I find myself pissed that I put the three people I love most into a situation such as that – where they were required to be upset and scared and caring of me.

I am so defeated in those moments – and the pain clouds everything. I can’t shake the feeling of being so angry at myself for not being able to handle life like other women do. I can’t stop being pissed that I failed by ending up in the ER. I am weak….in body and now in spirit – by the time I get to the ER. And I want it over.

Whatever they give me in an IV puts me to sleep for a while so Rambo was on his own with Banana and her ear….which was better by then thank God.

Until Sunday came and she started throwing up. I held her the entire day. Pale and fragile – and not talking or eating or drinking – the feelings of failing everyone just came rushing back.

And then the pooping came after the puking. She can’t even control it and so it’s cleaning and baths and changing underwear constantly and every time I sit by the bathtub or toilet with her….she looks at me with those pitiful eyes and says, “Mom, I have to get better for my birthday.”

Her birthday is in October people. It makes me smile a little. That’s my Banana.

And get this? I never gagged once. I refused to. I failed her the night before and I wasn’t going to repeat that.

Rambo stayed home again like I knew he would. He’s the guy that can do it all. Little to no sleep, has a cold himself, kitchen remodel, 3 jobs like me, one sick kid and a wife in the ER….and he still smiles and laughs and lives – and never fails – and isn’t weak. He has to be strong – because God knows I can’t be. We’d fall apart without him.

The stress has been mounting – with the school situation followed by tax time for the PT jobs. And remember the annual report due 3/31 but there was a glitch that wasn’t my fault? Well the State fixed that Thursday night – the night the report was due. I asked for an extension of one day since they just fixed it and the lady told me I didn’t qualify for an extension and she could legally finish the report for me and charge me for it.

Holy shitballs. That amped up the stress level. Jesus. And I send out all the water bills for entire Village on a quarterly basis. That happened to fall this weekend too. Hmmm….crazy much?

Too many factors all led up to the ER visit. Kitchen remodel finishes today – he’ll have to come back once when the new countertops arrive – but beyond that he’s done today. Whew right?

Jenny called this morning and everything I wrote above I said to her. I told her I’m weak in spirit and tired in body and she said I don’t know how to make you stop feeling that but you are not weak.

That was it. I just need that. For one person to say that and mean it like she did.

I believe her. Because I need to. Because I have no reason not to. And because I’m here – on a Monday – fighting to keep my eyes open and fighting the exhaustion and defeat. I’m working. Meeting deadlines. Making money. Being a wife and mother and co-worker the only way I know how.

And you’re damn right I’ll count the minutes until I can get home and hold Banana in my arms and tell her “Mommy is here”.

I will not give into this feeling of failing and flailing. This is a moment in time – a test of my inner strength. It will pass. It will end. I will end up stronger and better.

Everybody falls. Everybody falters.

Even someone who claims to be Superwoman occasionally.

Friday, April 1, 2011

BYOC Friday!!!!! ♥♪ Bring Your Own Crazy ♥♪

It’s Friday!!!! Time for BYOC!! BYOC is Bring Your Own Crazy…..5 little questions we answer in an effort to get to know each other better and to give our blogging brains a break!


1. Are you superstitious?

• Hmm….I don’t know if I’ve ever thought about this before but I think the answer is no. Black cats crossing my path, broken mirrors, and opening umbrellas inside….don’t scare me. Things that scare me for real are Explosive Man’s butt, Drazil, Sheniqua, and chocolate within arm’s reach.

2. You wouldn’t be caught dead where – wearing what?

• Easy peasy – I wouldn’t be caught wearing wearing spandex to a funeral (or anywhere for that matter). That would be oodles of bad. You won’t catch me in (Iwantobe) skinny jeans either. Like ever. Like anywhere. It just ain’t right.

3. What brand of perfume to you wear?

* I wear a lot of different kinds. My current daily ones are Red Door by Elizabeth Arden and Juicy Coutoure or something like that. Jenny wears it and I love it on her so of course – I got some for myself.

4. Name five non-human things that you love and why.

Food – in general. All of it – in large quantities. Morning, noon and night.
Baths – filled with Skittles and shitloads of bubbles and Rambo
Blogging – it changes me and heals me – every day
Giving – again, because it changes me and heals me – daily
Money – cuz it buys me shoes. Duh.

5. Repeat question: Summarize your week in blogland and in real life.

My blogging has sucked green donkey dicks and purple hippo wieners. I mean wow. Could I be any more Negative Nancy? *sigh*

My head is spinning. I have to decide what to do about the school situation. Do I call the Principal? And why? I mean what do I want? He’ll say he talked to the non-teacher. He’ll say she denied it all. End of story. Rambo and I knew that going in.

Contractor finishes our floor today. I’ve decided that my table legs and chairs don’t match our new kitchen so they have to be painted black. More painting. Remember what I said if I had to do more painting? Shoot me now.

And last night Rambo took both girls to urgent care. Burst eardrum/ear infection in Banana and Watermelon just has a cold virus. Great. With me going in for my finger and the girls and Rambo having an appt today for a spot on his hand that is red/itches – well – the whole family has seen a doctor this week. We’re all lepers I guess.

Called the State last night to finish up a report for the Village that was due yesterday. Get this? I couldn’t finish the report because the program had a glitch – NOT MY FAULT. They fixed it last night. I asked if I could then have one more day to finish the report. They said fine – but they do have the right to go in and finish it for me and charge the Village for the fees and on and on. What the fuh? No pressure there azzholes. Good God. Looks like I’ll be finishing reporting tonight.

Still – beyond the stress and exhaustion and worry and spiking blood pressure…I am okay. Jenny keeps me sane with her daily calls. Blogging keeps me sane with the writing and all of your comments. Skittle baths keep me sane in general. Rambo’s arms take away the entire world when I need them to. I find myself laughing, smiling, hugging my girls….always grateful.

I am blessed. And I refuse to lose sight of that.