Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Butts, lover numbers and inappropriate parachutes.

‘Ello my Skittles.

I’d like to report that it’s been days since Banana cried about or at school. The latest school drama is this. It is so insignificant that I must report it to you – because damn if it doesn’t feel good to only have insignificant school drama instead of phone calls about my child crying uncontrollably to report.

Here it is. Are you ready?

This morning as we are getting ready for school, Banana looks at me and says,

“Mom? Some people in my class say the word *butt*.”

Of course I did what every Mother of the Year would do. I pretended to be appalled, faked convulsions and then fake passed out and told her that was a nasty word – almost as bad as poop – and she should never let it cross her soft, perfect little lips.

She forgot all about the word “butt” and is now grappling with the knowledge that her mother is insane.


Remember my post about the “old flame still holding a dim torch” for me? OMG – some of your “awkward” ex-boyfriend stories made me laugh – though although painful for you - I couldn’t help it. I’ve warned you before that I’m Satan’s sister. My laughing shouldn’t surprise you.

I’m feeling weird because I just kissed this guy….how in the world do you deal with exes you’ve lived and slept with? Snaps to those of you who get through that. You’ve got big pink plaid balls of steel in my opinion.

Which brings me to me thinking about an old friend/co-worker of mine. In a conversation one day with a bunch of women – the subject of sex came up. Yah, I know – shocker. Women discussing sex.

Anyway – this girl’s history was well – let’s just say long – as far as past lovers goes. I asked her if her husband knew how many sex partners she had had. She said, “Hell to the no. Are you nuts? He thinks it’s less than 10 and I’ll never tell him he’s wrong.”

So I wonder if he was withholding his number from her too. And now I’m curious – do all of you know how many partners your partner has had? Do you care? Does he know your “number”? Does it matter? Do you discuss it? When do you discuss it – like 6 months in or after you are married? Do you lie? What would change if he knew the truth?

Would you like to tell me to shove it and quit asking such personal questions?

I can’t help it…it’s such an interesting subject. In small towns it’s hard to hide this stuff but not everyone lives in a small town obviously. I wanted to tell this friend that if her husband knew her real number, I doubt it would have changed anything but clearly she thought it would have.

I think some of that was her own guilt. She said she went through a patch of rebellion and went wild and regretted many of her escapades so admitting the number for her was hard. She never did tell us the number. We didn’t care – no judgement from us. No one is perfect but she clearly was still judging herself harshly.

I remember this was the same woman who told me that if a certain past lover were to walk in the door today and ask her to run away with him – she would. Without a second thought. She was still that in love with him. After 12 years of marriage to her husband.

Wow. She loved her husband but there was always that literal “one that got away”. I kind of felt bad for her husband – here’s hoping that old flame never came back for her – cuz she’d be gone. Crazy stuff I tell you.

Love is some downright crazy shizz.


I leave you with this little tidbit….it’s sort of sex related in a disgusting, make you want to throw up in your mouth kind of way.

My mom used to do daycare in her home. She watched two young girls from an “odd” family. Nice – but straaaaange – a bit creepy even.   Okay fine - a LOT creepy.

The kids always came dressed for school and got on the bus at my mom’s house. They arrived with their backpacks on – then took them off at my mom’s, ate breakfast, and put them back on to get on the bus.

After breakfast, the 1st grader was putting on her backpack ready to go out the door when my mom noticed a strange “thing” on her upper back shirt area.

It was something across her back and her arms were looped through it – but it was tiny – stretched really tight and bright red. She asked the little girl what this “thing” was. The girl said it was her new “parachute”.

My mom inquired further and eventually convinced the girl to take it off so my mom could see what it was.

Anyone wanna guess what it was?

It was her father’s red thong.

First my mom threw up. Then threw it across the room. Then she screamed. I can’t remember because I was laughing so hard I nearly died.

The little girl said she took it from her dad’s drawer to play with and wanted to wear it to school as her parachute. She freaking put her arms through the thong leg holes.

Creative I suppose. But inappropriate obviously. Can you imagine the teacher having found that? 

And wow was that little girl pissed when my mom told her she could not in any way wear that "parachute" to school.

We burned those thongs. After we picked them up with tongs. It still makes me sick to think of the man they belonged to. Let’s just say thongs should never go near this man.

Ack ack ack.

Morale of the story? ALWAYS check UNDER your child’s backpack before they go to school.


Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The weird that only happens in Podunk.

Lastly, you all know that I live in Podunk, USA right? Well – here’s an oddity that I never thought of happening until Banana entered kindergarten. It is very strange indeed. And only happens in Podunk circumstances.

Banana has a boy in her class. Shocking I know. Stay with me here.

That boy’s father is my first boyfriend and the first guy I kissed. That boy’s father is one of the kindest, hardest working and still hottest men I know. We are still friends.

I like his wife. We are friends too. She started dating him when I broke up with him and she’s a good mother and person and community member.

Problem is – I’m pretty sure he’s still in love with who we used to be togeteher. As it turns out, he’s not all that happy with his marriage. And when we go to town events and I stop to chat with him he says things like, “You used to wear that perfume when we dated. You still smell so good.”

Um nope – wrongzo – but whatever. I do change my perfume regularly goofball – that was over 20 years ago.

And if we’re somewhere where music is on he’s been known to say to me, “we danced to this song back in so and so at so and so’s party”. Um yup – sure….like I remember that.

It’s not dangerous. Stop freaking out. Rambo knows this guy too. They are classmates and friends and they respect each other even if Rambo knows how he feels about me. This guy is decent – therefore Rambo knows there is no danger. Good marriage or not – this guy is the kind of guy that commits to his family forever. Small, reminiscent comments are the beginning and end of any “us” there ever will be.

It’s a standing joke with my friends from town even. I was at the football game Friday and he walked by me and of course one of my old friends saw him walk by and of course, she turns around to give me “the look”…… it’s my fault or something.

Anywhoozle – I have this nagging fear that some day Banana and his son will date. I mean it’s Podunk – it’s GOING to happen. There aren’t many choices in small towns and everyone dates everyone at some point really. Won’t that be freaking weird?

Yes – these are the things I think about.

AND – let’s be clear. This guy is in love with who I was to him way back then. He’s in love with who he thinks I am and who he thinks I became. If he spent even 4 hours of real time with me – he’d be over me – trust me. There ain’t nothing special here that’s for sure.

It actually makes me sad. He’s a really great guy and I always wished he’d find what Rambo and I did. He deserved that. Hell – everyone deserves that.

So let’s reminisce. Got any quirky ex-boyfriend stories to share? Any that involve your kids now that you never ever thought you'd deal with? 

It's just cra-cra....

That is all.  Peace out my Skittles.

Shit for brains.

Shit for brains? Ever heard of that. That is me today and tomorrow. Poppycock for brains cuz the ONLY thing in my brain is how in just a few days I will be in Chicago with my bestie and 50 other wonderful, amazing blogger friends.

Now yes, my severe social anxiety crosses between being so excited I nearly pee my pants to being so nervous I want to throw up and have that word that starts with a “D” and ends with a side order of “iarrhea” – at the same time….but…it is all worth it.

Do not worry. There will be deep dish pizza. And drag queens. And stiletto heels. All will be well.

My bestie Jenny just called. Really to do nothing but make fun of me. She knows that due to my intense social anxiety I don’t go anywhere if I can help it. She knows I bought some cool (pink!) luggage for this trip and she thought it very funny to point out that the girl who never leaves her room bought luggage.

And packs 16 curling irons. She won’t think it’s funny when those curling irons turn her into a freaking supermodel on Saturday night. Ima gonna need those curling irons to beat the men off her. She be a hottie I tell you!

I’m bringing Lola on my trip to Chicago this year again. Who is Lola? Oh – she’s the GPS I have in my car. Last year before we ever got to Chicago, Jenny – who was driving – had singlehandedly called Lola every curse word in the book. In the end, Lola was called the C word. Yes, folks – the C word.

The Cee U Next Thursday word.

I was appalled because I’d never heard that word before. Lola cried. It wasn’t pretty.

Did I tell you the other day that Jenny and I literally had a phone conversation that turned into a competition? Over what you might ask? Well duh. Over who has the dirtiest toilet in their house.

I was all, “Seriously – something is alive in mine and I’m scared to put my hoochie close to it so I’m learning how to hover.”

And she’s all, “Last night I tried to clean my toilet but something reached up from inside and stole my brush and I heard it yell HELP ME!”

Yes, we are twins and proud of it – even if it’s about dirty, suckhole toilets.

Oh and before I forget I’d also like to say that every time any of you bloggers uses the word “NUSSING” in your blogs – it cracks me the hell up. I can’t get enough of that word.

There is a new show coming on the A&E station called Monster-in-laws or something like that. It is about real life evil spawn of Satan mother-in-laws. Who the hell goes on a show like this? I mean how do they approach you?

Please come on our show. We’d like to show the world the absolute raving insane lunatic bitch you are. How about it?

Oh and yes – we can’t guarantee your holidays will ever be the same or if you’ll even be speaking to anyone in your family when it’s done but come on – why not?

Yes. I have it DVR’d. There may be someone I know on there – and I wouldn’t want to miss that.

Banana asked me last night when we are going to go to a hotel and swim again. I told her I had no idea. That we should starting saving money up so we can go hoping that would buy me time.

She says, “You’re right. We should stop buying groceries and use the money to go swim at a hotel.”

Totally. Brilliant.

Totally my kid.  Yes?

Monday, September 26, 2011

Snickers, boots, hems and tattoos.

Soooo I've got a bit of rambling to do - via pictures.

Let's begin with a little Snicker conundrum...

And a couple new pairs of boots landed in my cart. 
I had nothing to do with it.  Hand to Bible.  I swear.

Oh and look what else I found when out shopping!

I also got these.......

Okay yah, that's all I got. 

It's officially Fall and though I proclaim to hate candy corn, I have eaten enough to want to hunt down the manufacturer and
stick pins in his eyes.

I might as well eat tablespoons of sugar - on the rocks.

How about you guys?

Like candy corn or not?

Do tell.

Friday, September 23, 2011

BYOC - Bring Your Own Crazy!

It's Friday and you know what that means - yes?  It's time for BYOC.  Bring Your Own Crazy like your life depends on it!  We answer a few questions to get to know each other better and to give our blogging brains a break.  Copy to your own blog and ENJOY!!

Oh and before I begin - these questions come from the fabulous Joey (cuz my teensy weensy brain is shot)!  Thank you Joey - I owe you one!

1.  If you were a character on Friends, who would you be and why?

Rachel - and it would be back when she had that haircut "the Rachel"...the short layered cut that everyone went to their stylist and got.  No idea why I'd be her.  Now that I think about it - I'm more OCD and weird like Monica.

2.  If you weren't in your current career what other career do you think you would have done?

Pole dancer

Wait, maybe not.  Honestly - I'd be some kind of social worker or some kind of person that could help people live a better life.  Like get out of inner cities or bad circumstances.  The truth is, while I'd love nothing more than to do that - my heart couldn't do it properly.  I'd get too invested and bring every client home for supper with me.  I'm pretty sure they don't recommend that.

I'd love to be a writer.  I've written children's books - even worked to get them published and then stopped when it got too scary. 

3. What did you want to be when you grew up when you were 6?

A teacher and a mommy.

4.  Do you think everyone only has one soulmate or true love? Or are there multiple people for everyone?

This is a good question.  While I'd love to believe there is only one soulmate for each person - I don't.  I do believe that a love you have with your soulmate can never be replaced, matched or duplicated.  But I believe love can be found anew.  I have to believe that.  If something were to happen to me - I'd want Rambo to love and live and be happy again - and find a new soulmate.  I'd never want it to be what we had - it would be different - but I'd want him happy and in love.  The same goes for anyone I love.  My parents, my friends - I'd want them to find love again.  Never the same exact love they had...but a new love.  Does that make sense?

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

Real life has been good - chaotic and crazy - but good.  I'm still waaaaayyy more behind in my 2nd job than I'd like to be and Shrek still lives in my toilet but I don't give a damn.  Banana had a not so great day at school this week due to missing Rambo who was away at training so that was not so fun but we made it through.

Today I'm the feature on the BOOBs blog so in blogland I'm floating on a cloud.  I've been able to get back to posting and some commenting so I'm feeling a bit better about my presence here.  I hope to be back to normal next week!

I love you all my Skittles!

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

School update!

I want to give you guys an update on Banana and how she is doing with school on her second full week of school. I also want to brag about Watermelon. Yah, that’s right – I said brag.

You can vomit if you’d like but let me just say that most of the time I pretty much suck at this parenting gig. When it turns out that I do something right – listen – I’m as shocked as anyone so while I’d like to shout it out on some tall skyscraper – we don’t have skyscrapers here in hicksville – so I’m gonna brag about it on my blog.

When Watermelon tells me what went on I do my best not to do the shocked open jaw “you did what?” thing – but honestly you guys – she’s a great big sister. I can’t get over it.

Okay – Banana – she is doing great. We haven’t had a full on full tear fall from her little eyes in days. Friday Rambo even dropped her off and she ran to her room and didn’t even want a kiss from him. Score!!!

She does say once in a while she doesn’t want to go but no tears and we can easily distract her and she’s starting to come home and be excited about what she learned and she’s understanding the long day does end and weekends come and stuff like that!!

Woot! I think we made it!!!

Now onto Watermelon. Last night Watermelon took me aside and told me she wanted to tell me about Banana and school.

She said that Banana didn’t really want to get on the bus yesterday.

She said, “I told her that she could listen to some songs on my MP3 player when she got on the bus cuz I got some new songs on it. I don’t really have new songs on it but she doesn’t know that. So she listened to a song and then she was fine. And then at recess she was a little sad so me and my friends played with her a while and she got over it and was okay. Every day when recess ends I walk her to her classmate line and I hug her and kiss her and tell her to have a great afternoon and that makes her really happy and I think that helps her.”

Ah yes…this is me – amazed. While my girls still fight like sisters do – there is also something different about them. They are closer. There’s a new protectiveness that wasn’t there before. There was never a need for that before.

It’s like Watermelon feels she has a new job – and it’s one she takes seriously and is proud of. And her friends take it on with her. It makes me proud of all of them and I think I’ll take them all cookies or something and say thank you. They need to be recognized for it. They could easily say “get away from us” or something and not be compassionate.

I heard Banana say to Watermelon in the back seat last night, “Watermelon, I love your friends.” And Watermelon said thank you. That made her proud of her own friends too. It’s good for all of them. Watermelon’s friends of course have younger siblings too and they are all learning from each other.

Okay enough of the sappy stuff. I shall leave you with this.

If you don’t believe that I truly live in hicksville…on the way to work this morning I saw a Jeep Cherokee with a lift kit – jacked up so high that yours truly would literally need a ladder to get into it. The tires on this thing were so high they’d be up to my boobs. It was very nicely covered in mud.

And strapped on top? Was a pristine, clean baby’s high chair.

Not kidding.

What the holy hell?

Shrek toilets and angels.

I’m not having the greatest week. Rambo is away at SWAT training for a few days (I might have to use the washer and actually cook) and my self-induced pity party for one is ongoing. It’s raining elephant turds and I haven’t farted a gumdrop in what feels like weeks.

Right before Rambo left the Harley sprung an oil leak. Harleys may be the greatest motorcycles on Earth but they are also the most expensive to fix. One oil leak = $850.00. Lovely.

Suddenly I came down with a cold too. And while I hate reading about snot, puke and poop in other people’s blogs – it seems I have no boundaries in my own so I would just like to say that this is how gross my cold is. I was walking into work yesterday and no freaking lie – I had to start running because – if I did not – snot was going to drip from my nose onto the pavement. Like a faucet of some type. I mean really? I cannot deal.

You should see the state of disarray my house is in. You’re lucky my kids are alive and dressed.

Speaking of disarray and cleaning - you all know how much I love to clean toilets right? You should see that thing. I’m almost afraid to sit down for fear that something in it is now alive and will reach up and grab my peekachoo. It’s that bad – I swear to God I’m not exaggerating.

In my head each night it goes something like this….”Should I do payroll tonight or clean the toilet?”

Yes, yes. I must pay the men. There is no other choice.

Speaking of bathrooms – the other night Banana came out to me to have me comb her hair after she got out of the bath.

Um yes – that wasn’t going to happen. Her hair was one big clump of soap. Big ass bubbles. I could have washed the dishes with the amount of soap still in her hair.

So I walk her back to the bathtub and I kid you not – though she’s been out of the tub for a good 10 minutes – the tub is still half full of bubbles. You can’t see the bottom of it.

Hmmm…use a little too much shampoo did we? Jesus. The good news is I don’t have to clean the tub.

Just Shrek’s swamp toilet.

My night ended with a raging migraine at 11pm. I wanted to scream and do the ugly cry but there is no way on Earth I let myself cry during a migraine because it’ll only intensify the pain so I do the normal things I usually do. Curse God, try cutting off my head, dream of ways to kill Explosive Man and make it look like an accident…the usual.

I was mad. And sad. I’m mentally and physically exhausted lately and I didn’t need or want this migraine (not that I ever do) but not tonight. I wasn’t prepared for it. I was alone. Sick. Just not up for dealing with it and not sure if I could get through it without giving in and going to the hospital.

And then?

In the midst of the blinding pain…I hear footsteps. Tiny, soft footsteps.

I feel movement on the side of Rambo’s bed. I’m in too much pain to really care who it is (it could have been a robber for all I knew) and I’m not going to turn the light on. I know it’s one of my girls.

I do want to know why they are there in case something is wrong….so I ask. It’s Banana…she says she had a nightmare. But at this point she’s right beside me, molded next to me, I hear her giggle…she’s not crying or upset.

There was no nightmare. I could give a flying f*ck at this point. For a second – I forgot about my migraine.

Banana is already sleeping.

She’s holding my hand.

I turn and look at the clock and realize it’s nearly 2am – nearly hour 4 of this pain – and the only thing I can really think about is the absolute unbelievable perfection of the softness that is this child’s hand. And the perfect smallness of it in comparison to mine. Her whole hand is wrapped around just two of my fingers.

Then I hear her breathe – almost a tiny snore. Loud enough that I don’t have to concentrate hard to hear it. I think to myself that I’ve never heard anything more beautiful in my entire life.

I lay there – feeling her tiny, soft hand against mine and listening to her perfect breathing….and I realize my migraine is gone.

Banana didn’t have a nightmare. I’ll never know what made her wake up and come in my room last night – on a night I happened to be alone – with a migraine….needing someone and something.

I can tell you she doesn’t wake up at night – ever. Usually not even during thunderstorms.

I can tell you that this is why I believe in God and guardian angels. You can call it coincidence if you want to but I never will. For me, if I can relax and calm down and back off the pain of a migraine long enough – then my pain meds will work….and that’s what happened last night when Banana gave me a reason to forget the migraine for even a second.

….a 5 year old angel walked into my bedroom last night.

By the time I woke up this morning?

She was gone.

So yah…I might live in a home with a Shrek toilet.

But I also live with real bonafide angels.

Everything is going to be okay.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Smurfs, Superheroes and Rambo covered in mud!

Rambo is a warrior. I mean like, for real.
He completed the Warrior Dash race this weekend.

Before we went to his race, we took Banana and Watermelon to a hotel to swim as a sort of "thank God we all survived the stress and tears of starting school these past two weeks" event.
It was a cool hotel...very cabin-y. I snapped a few pics.

After we left the hotel, it was Warrior Dash time. The Dash is a 3 mile race of obstacles. You go through mud pits, go over ropes, jump over fire, through waterfalls...your basic obstacle "stuff".

Here's one of the mud pits...

Look who I spotted at one point in the mud pit!


Another obstacle and a donation...

People run the race in teams or as individuals.
When people run it as teams they tend to pick a theme
and dress the part.

Meet some of the people who ran the Dash:

By the way - since when do Smurfs carry hachets, axes and knives?

I can't believe this but I have agreed to do this race next year.

Shoot me now.
Rambo says we are dressing up. God only knows as what.

Again - shoot me - please.

And lastly - here's Rambo - after he finished!

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Updates bullet style...

My brain is too shot to form coherent, full paragraphs so I’ll be doing bullets today.

• Here’s an update on Banana. She has successfully gotten on the bus every day this week. Two of four of those days she’s had tears streaming down her soft little cheeks. No fits or tantrums or screaming. Just long streams of tears and a little voice that says, “Mommy, I don’t want to go.” She could just as easily rip my heart out of my chest and put it in a meat grinder but she chooses to go the tear route. BUT she gets on the bus anyway and the teacher reports that for the most part she has a good day. She gets misty-eyed a few times and hangs with her big sis at recess. Thank God for Watermelon – who has also agreed to sit by her on the bus because Banana is scared.

• You’d all be so proud of me. I actually did a good mom thing. I wrote Watermelon a special note and put it on her pillow so she’d find it. I told her that Banana was lucky to have her as a sister and we were lucky to have her as a daughter and thanked her for her help with Banana during these first few weeks of school. She came in and said thank you and her eyes were filled with tears. I know she’ll keep that note forever. I need her to know that this is how it’s supposed to be between siblings. My own brother wouldn’t even claim me and it hurt my very soul and I felt alone at school when I didn’t have to be. I never want that for my girls.

• I successfully completed the overnight Harley ride last weekend. I have pictures of the packing debacle. I’d also like to report that 4 days later Rambo STILL has a cracked, froggy voice. Why? Oh well, my friends, that is because he was horking up his guts Sunday morning from too many drinky treats Saturday night. More on that later.

• This weekend Rambo is competing in a Warrior Dash race. We’re taking the girls to a hotel and swimming the night before. That may or may not have been part of a bribe to get Banana to stop crying each day before school.

• After that – is a wedding. Did I mention my social anxiety levels are off the charts these days? My body is just one big ass hive.

• I made a jungle-themed diaper/blanket cake complete with lizards and tigers and zebras for a pregnant friend of mine the other night. I took pictures…I’ll post them soon if they turned out.

My mother-in-law chatted with me on Facebook the other night and when signing off she said, “Goodbye. Hopefully we’ll see you SOME DAY. We never see you anymore.” Thank you. That was a great guilt trip. Newsflash. I haven’t even seen my own damn self in weeks. I replied that I’m so busy I don’t have time to pee so I’ve installed my own catheter and that it sucks but I’m desperate and that I’ll visit when I can.

• Lastly – a little perspective – prison style. Last night Rambo and I had swapped funny stories about our day. I had what I thought was a pretty good accounting piss me off error nightmare story. His story? Well, I should know they always top mine by now. An inmate beeped him on the intercom. Told Rambo he needed to see psych because he was having thoughts of hurting himself.

Rambo said, “Are you going to kill yourself?”

Inmate said, “Maybe. I’m just having bad thoughts because I’m getting out in a few months so I might kill myself.”

Rambo said, “Wait a minute. You’re telling me you’re getting out and so you want to kill yourself? What’s really going on?”

The inmate proceeded to clarify himself – which ended up meaning that a different doc had pissed off the inmate by telling him no about something else so the inmate was doing the “I’m suicidal” thing to get a different doc (psych) to see him to see if they’d give him what he wanted. All part of the game. Which Rambo stopped. Which psych, the doc and the Unit Mgr were all very happy he did but still – he comes home with “I talked a guy out of suicide today – what did you do?”

Um – I balanced receivables. Go me.

Those prisoners are lucky I don’t work there. Turns out the guy is a sexual predator. Once I found that out and he told me he was thinking of hurting himself – my response would have been, “Hold on – let me get you a sharper knife.”

Finally – I have to say I’m sorry. Life has been sucking a big fat chubby pecker lately. Well, not bad – just swamped. Chaotic if you will. Chicken with my head cut off 24/7 if I’m honest. My heart is with Banana every day. My head is everywhere but where it should be. My body is exhausted and worn down. And so I’ve been off the grid comment-wise and I’m sorry. I will catch up – I promise.

Oh and and my fellow BOOBies....after today the next 5 days will be features for the planners (Linda, Stef, Joey, Deb and Jenny) so if anyone has anything they want to contribute to those just let me know right away and I'll add it!  Thanks!

Monday, September 12, 2011

Pissed off.

Before I say anything - let me just say that anything I say and feel and think is grossly insignificant to those who lost people 10 years ago yesterday.  I, for one, will never forget.

And secondly, let me say I am okay.  Since I was able to write - it has always been my first form of self-therapy.  Nothing else comes close to how it makes me feel.  When I feel my worst all I want to do is write.  I'll never forget the day I found out my closest uncle shot himself and I swear to you I could almost feel the physical need for a pen in my hand. 

Now it's a keyboard and this blog.  There's nothing really the matter- and yet everything is.  I've been going at 100 miles per hour balls to the wall lately and every time that stupid little voice in my head tells me to slow down - I tell it to shut up and I don't listen.  I'm trying to be everything to everyone and in the meantime - I'm nothing to myself.

And that's just stupid.

After all these'd think I'd have learned something. 

The social events I've been participating in - while good and fun - take a toll on me mentally....because my social anxiety takes a toll on my entire body - whether I listen or not.  It's taxing.  It's physically hard. 

And it pisses me off.  Everyone I know goes weekend to weekend socially active - one day after the other - weeknights too...never missing a beat.

And me?  I'm home.  It's 1pm.  I just woke up after a migraine.  My body finally said enough.  I didn't go to work today.  I don't take days off.

Little Banana left today with tears streaming down her face again.  I haven't thought about my other 2 part time jobs in days - which is just asking for trouble.  My house is a freaking disaster.  I was supposed to play volleyball tonight - I cancelled.  I know my limits and if I face one more fear and make myself go - I'll be in a straight jacket.

Like I said - that pisses me off.  I hate who I am sometimes.

I want to be the woman who can do and be it all.  And my body will not let me.

Did I mention that pisses me off?  I look in the mirror today - at 1pm - and see a woman who called in sick, I see weakness.  I see a woman who faced fears and ultimately failed.  I see tired.  And scared. 

Surrounded by people but alone.

I've been here before.  It's not fun but it's part of life.  It's the part that makes you appreciate the days when you feel on top of the world.  I'll get through this day.  Probably on the couch - but I'll get through it.

There's one thing I've learned in life - September 11th, 5 year olds with tears streaming, too many jobs, too much stress, migraines, the inability to listen to your own limits, fear, weakness - whatever you face....

....the world just keeps on turning.

Tomorrow, I'll know that's a good thing.  Right now - that just pisses me off too.

Friday, September 9, 2011

BYOC - Bring Your Own Crazy!

It’s FRIDAY – thank the ever-loving heavens above. I mean why is it that short weeks (after a holiday) end up being thee longest weeks on Earth? Oy.

Let’s do BYOC – Bring Your Own Crazy. We answer 5 questions in an effort to get to know each other better and to give our blog brains a break. Copy to your own blog and ENJOY!

1. Do you drink coffee? Decaf or regular? Cold or hot? If not – what’s your go-to morning drink?

This is interesting to me. I'm always curious about how people start drinking coffee. It’s like being introduced to cigarettes and beer and stuff because you either hate it or love it and people think you need to be “old enough” to try it and it usually becomes a habit that some people frown upon.

I don’t drink coffee. I, in fact, can’t even stand the smell of it.

Don’t be impressed or appalled anything – my go to drink in the morning is Mountain Dew. Go me.

Yah, I wish I liked coffee.

2. What are your top six characteristics in a partner if you could hand pick them. And just for kicks – if you’re in a relationship – after you make the list of six – does the person you are with possess all five?

Goofy sense of humor
Compassionate / kind
Strong work ethic
Ability to be a good father
Loyal / trustworthy / dependable
Ability to show feelings / love without fear

Rambo has all these characteristics if I think about it. He’s as goofy as they come. Last night him and I were running around the house like 12 year olds and Watermelon was giggling so hard I thought she might pee her pants. He works 3 jobs and gives to his community so much sometimes I have to literally tell him to stop.

Perhaps the biggest is the last one – the one I wanted most in a husband and father – because I never had it and needed it so badly. When I think about this week and my prison guard of a man kissing my baby girl’s palms in a hallway filled with people in front of the teacher – it gives me chills. My own father wouldn’t even have gone into the school. Period.

3. I’m going to pick a person – not knowing if this person even exists in your life – and you try to describe this person in 5 short words or sentences:

Paternal grandfather

Died very young
Very materialistic
Had 6 children
I know very little about him

4. What’s your signature item? Color? Piece of clothing or jewelry? Accessory? You know – that one thing people know you will ALWAYS have on?

For me, it’s jewelry. Shitloads of it. If you asked anyone close to me what my signature accessories are – it’d be jewelry. If you’re really really close to me you know that my favorite color on this earth is teal. And you know that my prom dress was the most gorgeous teal color you’ve ever seen. Rambo told me for months that he couldn’t find a single tux store that could match the color so there was no way he could match his tux vest to my dress and I was super bummed about it. Then he showed up with my crown and corsage – in his tux – and his vest that matched my dress perfectly as a surprise.

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

This week has been rough. My Banana has been crying every morning in kindergarten and then gets better as the day goes on. On the other hand, Watermelon has stepped up to the plate and really been a great sister and tried to help out. It all just sucks though. All of us seem to be walking around with a lump in our throats and it’s just hard. Thank you for all your thoughts and tears….it’s so reassuring…

The overnight Harley ride is tomorrow. And no – I haven’t even begun to try to figure out how to pack. I’m living in denial. I cannot deal.

Have a good weekend my Skittles!

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Sometimes life just hurts.

As a parent – it tends to hurt a little more if you ask me but I’ve been known to be quite a bit more dramatic than is necessary.  Shocker I know.

Yesterday was day 4 of school. As you recall, Banana is 5 and started Kindergarten. She’s my outgoing, “I don’t care if you exist Mom” child. I had not a single worry about her going to school.

You see, Watermelon is my child who would like to sit on my lap as I live in a closet covered in hives. We are cut from the same cloth and I feared she’d never make it to school much less learn how to read and write. She did – and never looked back. Not a tear was shed.  I was shocked from the word go.

But my Banana? Holy cheese and rice. People - shit has officially hit the fan.

Yesterday at work I got a phone call. Shockingly, I decided to answer it.

It was Banana’s teacher. She said:

We have a little girl who won’t get out of the truck and is sitting in the parking lot with her sitter. I just wanted to make sure it’s alright with you if we make her come in?

Um, are you sure you’re talking about my kid? Yes – make her go in.

So on and off I got phone calls all morning. Her sitter stayed at school with her until about 10am. At that point, Banana held onto her shirt and screamed “please don’t goooooo” and her sitter went – sobbing all the way home.

The secretary called me to give me updates. The teacher emailed me all day. She said Banana was crying on and off but doing her best and her classmates were helping her.

Another mother stopped me in the hallway when I picked her up and said, “Your poor baby had a rough day today.”

Ugh – yes – thanks. I know.

Little Banana’s eyes were red when the day was done. A kid who is never very emotional seemed fragile to me. A kid who usually goes to the neighbors for hours each night never left the house.

We had the discussion about things we might not necessarily like but we have to do and about how brave she is and about how much fun she has at school and on and on.

In all honesty I want to tell her she never has to go again if it means she never cries another tear….but dammit – there are laws against that.

I know in a week this will all be in the past and we’ll laugh over it. Right now I feel like my mind and my heart cannot be anywhere but with that little 5 year old in that school. And every tear she cries is mine.

I want it over. I hate it.

Yet there is a silver lining and you can bet your ass I’m clinging to it.

When I picked up Banana, clutched tightly in her little tiny hand was Watermelon’s necklace. Now – on a normal day – Watermelon would NEVER let Banana even near this necklace.

I asked Banana what she was doing with Watermelon’s prized possession?

Banana said early in the morning Watermelon had given it to her and told her that whenever she felt sad or missed Dad, Mom or her – that she should shut her eyes, hold onto the necklace and feel us with her there and then she wouldn’t be sad.

That little 5 year old girl who loses her body parts I swear – held onto that tiny necklace in her hand all day. If that doesn’t warm your heart – then you are Satan.

I also found out that all day long Watermelon and her friends checked on Banana all day. Each time one of them left their classroom to go to the restroom or anything, they would peek in on Banana and report back to Watermelon about Banana.

At recess, Watermelon and all her friends, purposely took Banana and played with her. Watermelon said to me, “Mom, you should have seen her. She was so happy at recess.”

She also said to me, “Mom, I didn’t have the greatest day. It was really hard to see Banana so sad like that. When she cried, I wanted to cry.”

See? Watermelon is my emotional kid. I expect it from her.

Later that night, Watermelon proceeded to help wash Banana’s hair, comb it and get her clothes ready for picture day today too. All night long she hovered over her like a protector. She’s never done that before.

I hate the emotional toll this took on Watermelon but at the same time that my heart is breaking, I’ve never been more proud of her.

Rambo and I both know this too shall pass. We know some day we’ll tell them both about this and laugh and smile. I’m trying to keep that in perspective. I’m trying to keep the calm up and the drama down. In the grand scheme of life – this is just a teeny bump and we’ll all get through it.

I hope.

For now…my heart just hurts one minute and the next it’s bursting with pride.

Welcome to parenting right?

Oh and I just found out today that Rambo left Banana at school - crying again.  He kissed both of the palms of her hands and every time she misses him she is going to put her palms to her face and feel him with her.  He asked her if he had ever let anything bad happen to her before and she replied no - and he said, "Well, I'm not about to let anything bad happen to you here then." 

He also promised her that tonight we'd laminate a picture of everyone important in her life to take with her every day so she'd always have us with her.  That seemed to work. 

And he promised her a Harley ride....

He called me later and said, "I'm going to start drinking."

I said, "Awww babe, are you okay?"

He said, "You know how much I hate seeing them cry."

I swear I felt my heart crack.

It sucks, but sometimes life just hurts, doesn't it? 

An almost catastrophe.

I'm having a crisis of epic proportions.

It'd be funny - if it wasn't.

You see - this weekend I'm morphing into my leather Harley bitch mode. 
And yes - that isn't all that unusual EXCEPT this time? 

Well, this time - it's my FIRST overnight Harley excursion. 

Overnight - with people I don't know.  I bet you're thinking that's my main problem -
me with my hive inducing social anxiety issues and all.

You'd be wrong.

I mean - yes - for sure - that scares the crap out of me and I'd rather scoop pig shit in 6 inch heels and a bikini all day BUT that's not what I'm freaking out about the most.

We should rewind because you probably missed one teeny word I mentioned above.

The word was overnight.  Mixed with on the Harley?
Do you catch my drift yet?
When I asked Rambo what he was going to pack - this is what he said:

I hate that azzhole.

People - this is a a full blown four alarm emergency. 
I'm the girl with the suitcase for a purse remember? 
I could survive on an island for a week with that thing. 
When I go somewhere I overpack - every time. 

This time - it's impossible.  I have one saddlebag. 
One mother-effing saddlebag to put my wardrobe into. 
Leathers.  Swimsuits.  Shoes.  Pajamas.  Jeans.  Riding clothes. 
Times all that by about three. 
Not to mention whatever I buy in the shops we stop at.

Crotchface Asian massage girl had something to say. 
I hate her too.

Rambo said this would be a good learning experience for me.  I mean seriously.

To which I replied:

And that my friends - is how you avert an almost packing catastrophe. 
Carry on. 
Everything is going to be just fine.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Treadmills and wenises.

I’ve got some more Shockers, Morsels and Just Plain Dumb things to report.

Hey – knock off the eye rolling. What did I say about doing that around here? It’s not allowed in Care Bear Land. That’ll get you a straight up time out…so behave.

Here we go:

Shocker – yours truly got on the treadmill last night.

I’ll give you a moment to get back up onto your chair.

It looked a lot like this:

However, it “felt” a lot like this. Like a “coming home” of sorts.

And yes...I’m quite certain Jesus says piehole.
The main thing is – I didn’t die or lose a lung or ass-phyxiate. Amazeballs, I know.


Morsel – You know how I live in Care Bear Land? The land where Mountain Dew flows from faucets and there are ice cream trucks on every corner and we float on clouds and my occupation is “professional napper”?

Well – anyone wanna know where Rambo lives? I just figured it out. Well, I’ve known for a while BUT I have an official title now – dubbed by Rambo himself. And it’s as sick as he is.

Let me set the stage:

Last night I jumped into bed – literally. Like a five year old on meth I stampeded into our bed and flopped on top of Rambo in a giggling fit and proceeded to make my “nest”.

Rambo says, “When are we ever gonna have sex again?”

People – listen the f*ck up. There ain’t been no drought in our house. In fact, Rambo and his little fella have been living in a god dang tropical rain forest if you want my opinion.

So you can imagine my intense shock at this question.

What the holy hell? It’s been like – less then 24 hours – what the hell is wrong with you?

His reply? Well honey, in wenis world – that’s like 16 days.

WENIS world?? Weiner + penis = wenis. Who knew?

And apparently time there is like dog years. One hour = 4 days or something like that. Jesus, Mary and Bart.

I’m officially having my bestie draw up her version of what she thinks wenis world would look like. It’s about 60 miles south of Care Bear Land and and 80 miles north of you’ve lost your f*cking mind.


Morsel – my little Banana has completed her 3rd day of kindergarten so far. There’s nothing major to report other than a few things. First of all – let me reiterate that she is 5.

I picked out a pair of pink shorts and a shirt to match for her to wear one day and asked if it was alright and she wrinkled her nose at me and said, “No Mom, that’s hideous.”

Hideous? You’re 5. Poop is hideous. Puke is hideous. Wenis world is hideous. NOTHING in your world is hideous yet.

Also, she told me a ginormous cricket lives in our garage. She has no effing idea what ginormous means because she can barely pronounce it. I know this because she told me yesterday that her drusbriver is a boy. Yah, that’d be her busdriver.

Lastly – in just three short days – we have successfully concluded that A) boys do NOT need names. They are insignificant and can go by numbers and they are obsessed with body parts.

Case in point – she came home on Day 1 and when I asked how it went she told me that Boy #3 and Boy #2 spit on each other and hit each other and got in trouble. I told her that – let this be her lesson that boys suck and they are naughty and she should stay far away from them and it’s okay if she never learns their real names.

And B) Boy #4 kicked Boy #2 right between the legs, Mom. Yes – throughout your life – you will find boys cannot stop thinking about, pointing at, playing with or using that “thing” between their legs. Even at 5 – they live in Wenis World.

Day 1 girls. Day 1. And already she’s learned pretty much all there is to know about boys.

Did I mention Rambo wants to adopt a baby boy? He doesn’t like living in Wenis World alone apparently….

He feels overtaken by estrogen.

I have no idea what he’s talking about. I’m a huge advocate of gender equality.


Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Shopping with the people who live in my head., Draz, and Sheniqua went shopping on Friday afternoon.

It was uneventful - mostly.

Here's just a teensy preview of what I bought:

Crotchface Sheniqua wasn't very impressed.
Then there were these:

Would you all like to know what the price tag on these wedges was?  Sixty five buckaroos!
Would you all like to know how much I paid for them?  Nine ninety five! As in under $10.

It's okay.  You can cry.  I may or may not have cried myself.

Moving on to these:

Now yes - these aren't all that flashy and blingy BUT I recently bought a bohemian flowy shirt with cut outs down the arms with big fat flowers all over it and the flowers in it are olive green - like the above wedges.

Oh here - I'll show you. 
Yes - in this picture the flowers look more hunter green than olive green but I swear - it matches.

Seriously - yes - these ARE the things that replay over and over in my brain - courtesy of Draz.

He and Sheniqua are NOT fun to shop with.  I miss Jenny most on days like this.
Mainly because at one point I didn't realize a shirt had a side zipper and I may or may not have gotten stuck for a period of over 3 minutes in the dressing room.  In a shirt.

On to more shoes:

I say again, these are the assholes that live in my brain.

I bought a cheetah dress in the brown hues and a one shoulder cheetah shirt in black hues. 
A blingy belt, blingy earrings and bracelets and even a pair of blingy jeans.

I am officially done with shopping for things to wear for my trip to Chicago.

Well................... maybe.

Friday, September 2, 2011

BYOC - Bring Your Own Crazy!

It’s Friiiday here in Care Bear Land and I’m power farting gumdrops galore cuz all afternoon I’m going shopping (see you soon Jenny). For now though – let’s get to BYOC.

BYOC – Bring Your Own Crazy….5 little questions we ask to get to know each other better and to give our blogging brains a break. Copy and paste to your own blog and enjoy!

1. If you have a camera and have the time – take the contents of your purse out – and take a picture of said contents and explain them. If you don’t have time or a camera – please describe the contents of your purse.

• Wow. Are you ready for this?

Cell phone, multiple lip glosses, way too many pens, teal snakeskin wallet, notebook for grocery lists, day planner, plastic envelope noted for any return receipts, plastic envelope noted for any deposits to make, plastic enveloped noted for any receipts not yet entered in my journal, clutch holding necessities such as deodorant, file, toothpicks, floss, tylenol, clippers, ponytail holders, etc, migraine meds, ID for work, kleenex, lint roller, gum, clutch containing medical cards and things like store punch cards and such…and I think that’s it.

Whew. It’s not as bad as I thought but I don’t carry a purse. I carry a suitcase.

2. Repeat question: I’m going to pick a person not knowing if you have a relationship with this person or if the person even exists and you try to describe the person in 5 words or short sentences.

• Your kindergarten teacher

Long brown hair
Amazing smile

3. What’s your favorite guilty pleasure / trashy TV show you like to watch?

I love me some trashy TV. It’s reedick but it makes me forget the rest of the world and laugh at how stupid some other people are. I’m not sure it’s trashy TV but I’m addicted to tons of dumb shows like Jerseylicious, Hoarding, Intervention, Downsized, Heavy, Sons of Anarchy, Private Practice, Brothers and Sisters, Greys….cripes – my DVR nearly overheats most nights of the week and then on the weekends I sit and catch up until the wee hours of the morning and sleep in until 10am.

4. A lot of you told me about your first day of school experiences when I posted about how my 5 year old going to kindergarten wasn’t causing me too much heartache. So now I’m officially asking – tell me about one of your first day of school experiences that sticks out in your mind the most. Who put you on the bus? Did you ride the bus? Did your parents take pics? Did they walk you into school? Drive you there? Cook you breakfast?

You’d think I’d be over this right? I was. I guess I just need reassurance.

In my house – here’s how it goes. The tradition is this:

The night before I braid Watermelon’s hair (so she wakes up and it’s curly). I help pick out their clothes. I talk about their excitement. I help pack the backpacks. I fill out the bazillion pieces of paper the school needs.

The morning of the first day Rambo gets them up. He either makes them breakfast or takes them out. He takes their picture. Helps them with whatever they need and walks them into their classrooms.

Both my girls had wonderful days yesterday. In talking to my sister and mother I was telling them that Rambo took them out for breakfast and what I got was a guilt trip – for not going too.

Why didn’t you go? Why didn’t you take them? You could have taken off of work.
Yup. Could have. But I didn’t. It’s the tradition. The day of is Rambo’s tradition. The night before is mine. I’m okay with that. Why do I have to defend it? Is it because they are “girls” you think the “mom” has to be the one to do everything? Is it because my father did nothing that you can’t comprehend someone else’s father being so involved? Why can’t you be overjoyed he takes such an active role? Why is it just about the bad parent I am?

Or maybe I’ve made myself emotionally unavailable to my girls because it’s what I know…and because Rambo so effortlessly fills the gaps.

I don’t understand. My kids got to school with smiles on their faces. Not a tear was shed. They had great days. We have pictures. Hugs and kisses and “I’m proud of you’s” were everywhere.

How can the way it went down be questioned by anyone – who doesn’t live in my shoes?

And why the f*ck can I care so much about what they say that I’m actually blogging about it?


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

Real life has been emotional. Obviously – see above. Sorry about that. Feel free to ignore me and roll your eyes. I’m like a broken record when it comes to being judged about my parenting by parents who were less than perfect themselves.

Jenny has kept me sane calling me and emailing me about fun stuff and laughing and sending me pics of my girls from when I was at her house.

Yesterday the phone rang and I saw it was her and I never even said hello. I just shouted into the phone, “WHY DON’T YOU LIVE HERE?”

Apparently we’ve gotten to the part in our relationship where greetings aren’t necessary.

Blog life is good – still a bit slow as everyone is busy with school starting but the Chicago excitement is booming!

And did I mention I’m shopping all afternoon today? Woot! Woot!

Thursday, September 1, 2011

A Morning in Care Bear Land.

First day of school.
No one is awake yet but me.
I’m in the closet getting ready and I realize Rambo is now awake.
He’s standing behind me as I get ready and he says:

Our babies are all gone. We don’t have any more. Do you want another one? One that smells good and is all squishy and cuddly and little?

I hug him and I say, “Yup, they’re all gone. No more babies. Do YOU want another one?”

He thinks for a minute and says, “What the hell. Let’s get one. I’ll go to Walmart today and see if they are on sale. And we’ll need a bigger house too.”

“Yup. Get right on that and let me know how it turns out.”


Now I’m in the bathroom doing my hair and the soon to be 11 year old enters. She says:

Mom – something hurts right here. (She points to a spot above her lip.)

I look. I say, “Yah, that’s a zit. Welcome to puberty.”

She says, “Well, can you get it off?”

Oh for the love of all that is pure and holy. Bless her heart – she still thinks I’m Superwoman.

Um, no honey. It’ll go away on its own. Sorry.

OMG – can you see it majorly? Can’t I get rid of it?

Nah – you might as well learn now that on special days like first days of school – zits pop up just to make things worse. Expect one on Homecoming, Prom and your wedding day. I love you Watermelon.

She stomped off. Pissed at the world.

I don’t blame her.

I was ready now and Banana still wasn’t up. I decided I couldn’t NOT kiss her or smell her little neck on her first day of school so I tip-toed into her room and tried to find her face in the dark.

It was completely under a pillow and when I tried to move the pillow she turned her whole body the other way. The little turd was partiallly awake.

So I whispered…Do you want a kiss for your first day of school?”

In the dim light of her room, I saw her turn her head, eyes squeezed tight, head up in the air towards me and puckered fish lips pointed at me – so I could kiss her.

All is right with the world now.

I make my way down the steps to the garage to get in the car. I know Rambo is down in his man bathroom showering. I’ve already kissed him goodbye – pre-shower so I’m just going to head to the car.

I hit the bottom step and there stands Rambo. Freshly showered – like some damn Adonis statue – in the bathroom doorway, one hand against the door, legs crossed – naked and smiling.

He says, “Hey. How you doin? Thought I’d leave you with an image for the day.”


Gee thanks.

See you later. Get my babies to school safe. Take their pictures.

Try not to leave your heart in that school with them.

If we did this right, I’m hoping they won’t need it.

And for God’s sake. Put some clothes on.