Thursday, December 12, 2013

Ten Things Thursday!

1-Does anyone else think it’s weird that boys have entire conversations while they pee considering that they are HOLDING their “unit”?  Let me explain.  I walked by the men’s bathroom at work and heard multiple – as in at least 5 people – talking, carrying on and laughing.  WHILE they peed.  As I walked by I thought how odd that must be.  I mean can you imagine holding onto your vagina with your bare hand while you talk to a co-worker who probably isn’t even someone you are friends with?  It’s freaking weird.  Like let’s go back to work together after I saw your dick and pretend that it wasn’t awkward.  Yes – I realize they probably don’t look – but still.  It’s weird.  We women converse while we pee but our vagina isn’t hanging out in the air – least of all held on to by our own hands.

2-People who suck at their jobs have it made.  No one gives them more work because they can’t handle it.  No one gives them confidential info because no one trusts them with it.  No one asks them questions because no one thinks they’ll have answers.  No one cares where they are or what they are doing because no one thinks their time or talent is worth missing or worth anything for that matter.  For 8 hours a day – they get left alone – and the bare minimum is expected of them.  Smartest people in the world.  I mean yes – you have to have no internal pride but still.  I suppose it’s a compliment to be given tons more responsibility and work…but I’m just saying that I’d like to give more to the lazy sucktastic f*cker down the hall who hasn’t taken on anything new since 1985.
3-Tomorrow is family movie night.  Red 2 and Despicable Me 2 are on the agenda.  Mounds of blankets and pillows on the living floor and enough junk food to kill a small buffalo.  I cannot wait.

4-Tomorrow I’m going to wear my sequined Cmas shirt from Old Navy to work.  It is a white t-shirt and on the front in seqins are the words HO HO HO on top of each other.  Red and green obnoxious sequins.  I’m going to pair it with Cmas socks.  Sometimes I like to pretend I’m 3 and don’t have a mortgage.  It’s fun.
5-The thought of wrapping all my girl’s Cmas gifts makes me want to barf.  Twice.  I no likey the wrapping portion of Cmas. 

6-Last night I had Doritoes and Pepsi for supper.  My kids had Hot Pockets.  Mother of the Year right here,  folks.  Don’t even try to beat me.  Tonight is Ramen noodles.  So BAM!
7-I am obsessed with boot socks.  Socks long enough that you can cuff them over your boots.  They make my 8 billion pairs of boots feel like new boots. 

8-Both my girls are remodeling their bedrooms in a few months and I would just like to go on record as saying I hate painting and there are too many bed/furniture choices out there for kids.  I feel like I do nothing but draw layouts all day.  Search for beds.  Search for dresses and desks.  Take them home and get my girl’s opinions, rinse and repeat.  
9-Merry Christmas.

10-Happy New Year!

Monday, December 9, 2013

Santa is deaf. And illiterate. And high and drunk.

You’d think that I had sex with Satan eight years ago if you had to parent my child for more than 5 minutes.  She’s going through a stage.  One where she hates everything I say and her favorite word is NO.  I told her the other night that if she said no to me one more time – that there would be major consequences.

Know what she did?  Looked right at me and said, “NO”.
I must be a no-nonsense parent because clearly she is very afraid of me. 
It took everything in me not to get in my car and drive off a cliff.  Jesus, Joseph and Mary – she is a crabby little thing.  Sooo I’ve been using the ‘ol “Santa will NOT be coming to you this year” threat that all parents use the minute Thanksgiving is over.

I tell her it’s Christmas and ask her what in the world does an 8 year old have to be crabby about?  She says she needs sleep.  Easy fix.  Get your snotty ass in bed, right?
The next day she’s an angel.  All huggy and kissy and lovey and helping me every second and she says, “Mom.  Could we maybe write a Christmas list for Santa – just in case he decides to come after all?”

So being the sucker that I am – I help her write one.
Here comes the deaf and illiterate part.  I’ve been thinking that I’m the shiz because I’ve been done Cmas shopping for my girls for weeks now.  Woohoo – right?

Yah – not so fast.
She makes a list.  Plenty of things on said list.

Not a single mother-f*cking thing that I got her is on the mother-f*cking list.
I’m not joking.  Sooo at this point – when my kid opens her presents on Christmas morning she’s going to think that Santa could not hear her read her letter out loud 80 billion times AND he cannot read it for himself.

Santa is deaf and blind.  And he only lives on a diet of Xanax and vodka washed down with cookies and milk.  And every other day he has to stop himself from driving off a cliff. 
I kept telling my daughter that Santa probably already had all her gifts ready since it’s already December 9th.  Thank God the child has no concept or knowledge that there are plenty of shopping days left.

In my defense, listen to this.  One thing on her list is “a cowboy outfit that is warm”.  As opposed to a cowboy outfit that is cold?  What in the holy hell?  She has never ever – not once in her life – mentioned cowboys or played cowboys or wanted to dress up like one or even watched cowboy shows??
How in God’s name is Santa – who is most likely high and drunk – supposed to know she wanted a cowboy outfit??  A warm one – to be exact.

See?  Now you know why Santa is high and drunk and blind and illiterate.
It’s a necessity around these parts.  There's just no other way to hold on to your sanity without being one of those 4 things - or in my case - all of the above.

Friday, November 29, 2013

He died today.

It's the day after Thanksgiving and I've been decorating my house all damn day.  For Christmas.  I went a little overboard in the light and tree and garland department and I think it's because this December is going to be weird-ish. Some parts are going to downright suck.  Lights make everything better...so it looks like a light factory threw up in my house.  It's impossible not to smile when everything is lit up, you know?

My brother came home for Thanksgiving and he hasn't done that in years so that was good.  I can't pretend that seeing one brother doesn't make me think of the other brother who I haven't seen or spoken to in a really long time.  If I was a strong, smart person - I'd learn to accept that my family ain't the Waltons.  We never were. 

Someone I love a whole helluva lot is going through a helluva shitty time.  I can't fix the problem and I can't take away the hurt.  I can only watch her be tortured every damn day.  When you add in that it's the holidays - her shitty time turns into a tornado of sewage.

And last week, I had to say goodbye - literally - to one of my favorite Uncles.  He is not old by any means and while we knew he had cancer.....we were all told that chemo and radiation would work.  A phone call came and those dreadful words no one wants to hear came out of my Aunt.  If you want to say goodbye - come do it now....they say he won't live but a few more days.

What?  How does this happen?  This man has 4 kids.  Two just out of college.  One in college and one in high school. 

I
don't
understand.

So I went.  I hugged his frail body.  And even though I have watched at least 3 people die in front of me - not a single one of them was awake or alert enough for me to say goodbye to.  My Uncle was.

Have you ever looked into a person's eyes whom you know is going to die soon and knows it?  It is frightening, terrifying and horrible all at once....moreso because there is no peace when the person isn't ready to go.  He's not 90 and had a good life and wants to go to Heaven. 

He wants to live - longer.  To walk his daughter down the aisle in 8 months.  To grow old with his wife.  To watch his daughters graduate from high school or college.  He wants to live to see grandchildren.  He does not want to die.

But he will.

He said he wasn't scared but all I saw in his eyes was fear.  I can't even tell you what I saw in his wife and kid's eyes.  No - death is never easy...but there are times when it is easier.

When the people I watched die - died....many of us were relieved.  They were very old and had a good life and were ready and we wanted the pain to stop. 

This time?  There's just no f*cking explanation. 

So although Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming.....you can see in every single person's eyes that they are always thinking of my Uncle and his family.  You feel just a little big guilty for laughing and smiling and being with family.  You're standing upright and eating food - two things my Uncle hasn't done in a week.  Something feels wrong underneath all the joy of the season and we're all texting and calling and waiting - for the call that says "it's over". 

When it shouldn't be.  It just shouldn't be.

I told him I loved him as I kissed his pale, soft cheek.  It is the last time I will ever see him alive.  Ever.

The finality of that is staggeringly real.

The only thing I can do to honor him is be grateful for who I have in my life and be thankful for the blessings I have.  And pray.  That once he gets to Heaven - he'll finally be at peace with dying.

And pray - that some day his family will feel the same. 

**  Just before I hit post - my phone rang.  He died today.  Right now. 

My God....it's just not fair.

Monday, November 18, 2013

No penises needed here.

It has come to both mine and Rambo’s attention that old men facing life in a super max prison make better prisoners than young men facing a few years in a minimum/medium prison. 

Old men in a prison system have usually lost all their family and all their hope and they just live and follow the rules and accept their fate.  Young guys – like the ones Rambo guards now – suck. 

They think they have something to prove.  They are cocky and arrogant and they think they are all innocent and have been done wrong by the system.  Their crimes may not be as heinous but their attitudes are far worse.

This weekend I helped my sister move into her own apartment.  We went Craigs-listing all over town and bought a trailer and truck full of “stuff”.  We took our mace with us every time and even after we had to stop for the FIFTH time in 10 miles to re-tie down our tarps because of the pouring rain – we laughed. 
We were soaked to the bone, dripping wet, exhausted, on the side of road and at one point we looked at each other and said, “Who the hell needs men anway??  No penises needed here!”  We think we’re so funny. 

However, I will admit that when we realized that we’d have to take the legs off the table for it to fit in the door, I was praying for a big, strong man to happen along….but no luck.  We got out our pretty purple wrench set and went to work.  When your tool set is purple – everything in life is better.  I swear.
I cleaned the toilet this weekend.  Yes.  That’s right.  That is worth writing about.  My God – I loathe toilets.

In an effort to not go mad missing Rambo, I went through my closet and sold shitloads of stuff online on a local sale site.  About $300.00 in 3 hours time….not too bad, I suppose.
I went to my daughter’s basketball games without Rambo on Saturday.  This week I’ll go to our youngest daughter’s church-thingy ceremony without Rambo.  I’ll attend Thanksgiving at my family and at his family’s house without him.  All things I probably haven’t done alone since I’ve known him.  Can you feel the hives coming on?  Explosive diarrhea anyone? <

Last night Rambo got home at the usual time of 11pm when the house is dark and we are all sleeping.  He walked into the house and into his room (he has his own dressing room/weight room/ hunting room/etc. in the basement).  About 2 minutes later – down the steps came a little 8 year old girl – all sleepy-eyed and carrying her blanket.  Rambo told me this morning that he said to her, “Honey – what are you doing awake?  It’s late and you have school in the morning.”  She said, “I waited up to see you Daddy so I could hug you goodnight.”
Breaks my freaking heart.  I had no idea she did that until he told me.  Sigh.  Both my girls miss him so much….but January will be here soon.  And we are blessed.
Note to my readers – if you’re already sick of hearing about how much we miss Rambo and how much his new shift sucks donkey balls…um….you should stop reading until January, mkay?

I warned you.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

3 little fishies.

3 little fishies.  Out of water.  Flopping around like a bunch of guppies – gasping for air.  Eyes bulging in confusion.  Lungs inhaling in pain. 

That’s what my girls and I feel like right now. 
Rambo is not home at night anymore.  It is Week 1.  And we suck at it.  We are trying desperately to figure out a new normal but that’s the thing.  THIS is not normal.  THIS isn’t the definition of a family bonded.  THIS will never be our normal if I have anything to say about it.

I’ve been crabby and so have the girls.  There aren’t family suppers anymore (even though we all know there should be).  It just feels wrong when one of us is missing.  If I happen to yell at the girls for something – the words, “I WANT DADDY!” come rushing out and I feel the sting…even though I understand their thinking.
I have been late to work every day….because tearing myself away from Rambo’s arms in the morning is like a physical pain.  Good thing I set my own damn hours, huh?
Every morning – little Banana comes in our room with her eyes half closed and her blanket in hand and she crawls into Rambo’s arms and they lay there as I get ready.  His arms are wrapped around her and she’s so encapsulated that I can’t see where she even is.  It makes my heart ache.  Those 15 minutes are all she has every day.  It’s a shocking reality compared to what she had before.

No – the world isn’t ending.  Yes – things could be way, way worse.  Yes – I know we are blessed and I am grateful.  I’m just saying this is hard.  A hard that I will conquer.  We will survive.  We will come out a stronger family when this is over.  It’s a tiny cross we all have to carry for now and I believe it’s God’s way of showing us we need to take less things for granted.  I think shitty times are a way to learn something about yourself.
I think this is about me being a Mom.  I think this is about me withholding parts of myself from my kids because it’s still too scary to let go of past pains.  This is about ME being the things Rambo was so freely….because he can’t be that anymore. 

I let him pick up my slack in a lot of areas – because I was mentally unable and physically too lazy to do some of it.  Instead of settling for mediocre Mom because I had a stellar backup – I now have to be Mom and Dad…and try harder.  I don’t want this period in our life to be a time that our kids look back on as horrible.  It doesn’t have to be that way.

A second shift job is partially responsible for ruining major parts of my childhood.  It is responsible for making my own Dad a complete stranger.  It is responsible for me living with someone who I never spoke to, saw or spent time with.  Later, second shift and what that meant became my saving grace because it meant my Dad was gone…and as I got older…that’s what I wanted.  It’s what I knew.  It’s what I was comfortable with.  I had no idea how to “be” with my Dad at all. 
I remember when I was in high school, after nearly 15 years of being gone on second shift, my Dad was up for a first shift position.  It meant he’d be home every night after school. 

I remember very distinctly – my brothers and I crying when my mom told us.  Sobbing.  Angry.  Scared.  Pissed off that suddenly we’d have to deal with a man we didn’t like or know.  Having him home seemed like the end of our world as we had come to know it.
This week I’ve had to deal with some of those emotions coming back.  I didn’t realize Rambo being gone would force me to remember old hurts and pains.  I haven’t thought about that in a long time and this week I’ve felt like the me back then and almost makes me physically ill at times.

It also ignites my spirit to never let what happened to me – happen to our family.  Not on my watch.  Not ever. 
I’ll find water for my two fishies and for myself.  I promise.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Ten Things Thursday!!



1-It’s trick-or-treat time tonight and Rambo has to work.  Cue the sad face.  Two nights this week I’ve slept without him and the memories of doing that for more than 10 years came rushing back.  I stay up as long as I can so I don’t have to go to that huge bed by myself.  It’s poo-poo-ey.  And yes – I’m aware that I’m whining.  Just go with it.
2-Rambo’s birthday month starts tomorrow.  He never ever wants a gift a day but he’ll get one anyway.  Since I’ll only see him for less than 10 minutes a day most days, it seems more important than ever that I do this. 

3-One weekend to go before I have a 3 day weekend with my sister and my mom.  The only thing on the agenda is SHOP.  And eat.  I mean eating is almost more important than the shopping if you ask me.  I’m so excited.  We laugh our asses off when we’re together and we talk.  Deep, meaningful talks.  About the past and future and everything in between.  It renews my soul.
4-My “no-poo” experiment is going well.  I haven’t caved and used shampoo on my head since October 15th.  I have to say I think I am out of the nasty transition stage.  My hair is shiny.  And smooth.   YES – even without a single drop of conditioner!  It dries fluffier and it’s not even oily by the 4th day.  I haven’t even felt the need to do any more plain water rinses (I’ve done one).  Maybe it’s all in my head…not sure.  I’ll keep you posted.

5.-My sister got me a white NorthFace jacket for my birthday and I love it.  I never caught on to the Northface trend but now I see why people love the brand.
6-Our whole family went to a sectional volleyball game last weekend and we all screamed so hard we lost our voices.  So fun.  Friday night is a sectional football game and we’ll do the same thing.  Gotta love high school sports, right?  My life is so exciting.  Try not to be jealous.

7-We are going out for supper with close friends of ours Saturday night and other than that – my only goal this weekend is to sell shitloads of my Harley clothing that I don’t wear anymore on Ebay.  Somehow I have got to get my closet to a manageable level.  I can’t just keep buying more hangers every week.
8-Me and my two girls and my sister worked all day at the annual church festival last Sunday.  My little girls worked right beside me and broke a sweat right along with me.  It was good.  For all of us.  To give.  And get nothing but satisfaction in return.  See?  I don’t always suck at this parenting thing.

9-I finally got good at doing shellac on my nails.  I can get one painting to last two full weeks without a single chip and sometimes even longer.  My newest obsession color?  Black.  I never did the goth thing because I was never a rebellious teenager so maybe I’m doing that now.  Or maybe it’s that black speaks to my dark side.  The side that’s all Harley and tattoos and f-words and not giving a damn what others think of me.  Or maybe I’m just immature.  It could totally be that.
10-Lastly, here’s a shocker for you.  I went to a family wedding this weekend.  The girl did not let her mother walk her down the aisle with her father because the mother didn’t lose as much weight as the daughter wanted her to.  By no means is the mother morbidly obese or anything.  She could probably lose 50 pounds (um, who couldn’t?  ME!).  Can you believe that?  I mean it’s just jaw dropping evil at the core.  And even though I’m evil for saying it – I hope some day she wakes up and regrets the choice she made and the reason why and I hope she tells her Mom that she’s sorry. 
And means it.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

She still plays with dolls.

She still goes to recess.  Twice a day.

She packs a Milky Way in her lunch every day because it’s been her favorite since she was 3.
Her mom bought her a Halloween costume this year…the same as all the other years before.

She just got braces.
Once in a while, she still plays with dolls.  Even dresses them up on rare occasions.

When she gets upset, she still cries just like she did when she was a baby.
It was just this year that she figured out that Santa isn’t real. 

She can’t drive.  Or vote.  Or legally drink alcohol.  Or buy cigarettes.
She hasn’t had her first period.

She is a little girl.  She is young. 
She is innocent.

Well, she WAS.  And now she isn’t.
No one thinks of her as little or innocent anymore.  My daughter, her best friend, says everyone looks at this girl differently in the hallway now.  All the boys make lewd comments.

Her parents cried.  Her Dad balled his fists and tried to control his anger.  School boards got involved.  Police were notified.  Everyone involved was talked to.
Now she’s not allowed to have a phone.  Or go to school events.  Or talk to anyone.

Because she is 12.  And she had sex.  More than once.
She is 12 and had my daughter google “symptoms of pregnancy” on her phone because even though condoms were used – she’s 12.  And she doesn’t understand if that condom worked or didn’t.

She is 12 and was checked and got a shot for STDs.
She is 12 and her first sexual experience was with a 15 year old who has already had sex with a lot of girls.  She said he smelled of alcohol and smoke.  She said it hurt the first time and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do so she just watched TV during it. 

She left that night and walked all the way home – crying.  Immediately regretting every moment.  Frantically texting my daughter about how to fix what had just happened.
There were no feelings.  None.  The boy doesn’t even like her a little.  No romantic words.  Not even a single promise uttered even if he knew he couldn’t keep it.  No music.  No candles. 

No care taken.  No consideration for her body or her precious soul that he was about to break.
And now the rumors – in a small town.  Are all about a 12 year old. 

Who will never be the same.
This happened a week ago and my daughter just told me last night.  She put off telling me because she doesn’t want me to judge her friend.

Judge her? 
Judge her?

She’s 12!!  She has no idea what she was doing or getting into and the only thing I really feel for her is pain and sadness.  I want to hold her in my arms and tell her that some day it’ll be different.  That all the rude words and looks and rumors will end.
That the things the boy is saying should be ignored.  That if he didn’t know better – his two friends in the next room should have.

Everyone in the town is judging her.  I find that so ironic.  I know the people judging the most.  The women who did exactly what this girl did.  The people whose kids are doing it too.  The ones who forget shit like that.
How do parents forget that we were all there once?  How do parents literally believe bad shit will never happen to their kid?  I trust Watermelon but I’m not dumb enough to say, “my kid will never do that.”  I can hope but I can never say never.  You can’t be with your kids 24/7 and believing that my child is an angel is just stupid.

So my daughter and two other girls have taken on the role of “protector” of this girl since it happened.  They haven’t left her side – even though what she did scared them.  Even when they believe she was wrong too. 
My daughter was scared I’d look at her friend differently.  That is how protective this girl’s friends are being.  I hope she understands the preciousness of that.

Because even though she is 12 – there are facts about the situation that she alone bears.  She can’t take that night back.  She can’t undo this.  Anyone in this town who may want to date her will already know her history.  Other parents have already told their kids they aren’t allowed around this girl. 
She comes from a good family.  A mom and a dad – happily married.  She wants for nothing. 

Except something in heart makes her seek attention and love from boys.  And this time she took that seeking to a whole new level she can’t back down from.
There are consequences she never even knew existed.  And she’s going to hurt for a long time over this.

God help me – please let her be strong enough to get through this.
My mind is filled with nothing else but this since I heard.  I ache for my daughter and her friends who’ve taken on keeping their friend standing upright and safe and keeping her head in the right space.  I ache for her parents - who I know well - who think “everyone thinks they are bad parents”….because I certainly don’t think that.

I love this little girl.  She’s at my house a lot. She’s sweeter than sweet and beautiful and precious.  And I don’t know how to pretend to her that I don’t know when all I want to do is hold her.
But I won’t.  I promised my daughter that her friend would never know that she told me. 

I’m scared to tell Rambo.  He loves this little girl too.  He knows her and her family just as well as I do.  I know – that as a fellow father and a friend to this girl’s Dad – his first instinct will be retribution.  Rambo knows the boy’s dad that this happened with as well….and Rambo has never liked him.  To find out it was his son who our 12 year old’s best friend had this happen with….is going to be a tough one to swallow.
Just last night, Rambo’s own 12 year old daughter sat next to him on the couch with her head on his shoulder, her Smartphone in her lap and her baby blanket held tight in her hands.  Ever the evolving adult while part of her remains the little girl who can't live without things like her baby blanket.

To imagine that little girl – OUR little girl - in a strange house, with boys she can’t possibly know, scared, unsure, and vulnerable – gives me chills.  This is a helluva lesson for her to learn though watching the emotions and outcomes her best friend is dealing with.
It hurts her badly.  She said when she was googling pregnancy symptoms for her friend...she was so scared that she almost started crying but she held it in.

The whole thing is scary as hell. 
And I’m just so sorry for everyone involved.

Just.  So.  Sorry.
I was na├»ve.  I seriously believed I had a good 3 to 4 years before sex became a real live thing her friends were starting to do vs something they just thought or talked about.

But at 12? 
Nope. 

I just never saw this one coming. 
I don’t think anyone did.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Update: How does my hair-do do with no poo-poo?

For those of you who don’t read this space daily, a week or so ago, I decided to try out the whole “no-poo” method.  That term would be the dumbest name ever for any kind of anything and also denotes the process of never using shampoo on your hair – like ever again.

I’m all in awe of vegans and people who only use and eat organic stuff and all that – but that has nothing to do with why I did this.  I mean that sounds good and righteous but my favorite food groups are Doritoes and Mountain Dew so it’d be a flat out lie.  I did it because I researched the shit out of it and 99% of the things I read said the same thing over and over.
That their hair had never looked or felt better.  It dried faster.  Held curl better.  Grew longer, faster.  Saved money vs buying expensive shampoos.  Etc. Etc.

I thought I’d see for myself. 
Please note that I have colored hair.  Right now some pieces on top of it are damaged as hell after I had it bleached first to put in red highlights.  My hair is definitely fine and thin but I have enough of it so you wouldn’t really know that. 
Here is a run down of my journey so far….

First, for those of you wondering how you wash your hair, this is what I did after researching multiple methods.  I put 1 tbsp of baking powder in a bottle with 1 cup of water.  I put 1 tbsp of apple cider vinegar in a spray bottle with 1 cup of water.
Day 1 (Tuesday) – I washed my hair early in the morning using the bp mixture.  I “only” put this solution on my roots – not on my ends.  I focused on my scalp.  (I have hair a couple inches past my shoulders.).  I rinsed.  Well.  << very important. 

I then sprayed the ACV mixture ONLY on my ends…not on my scalp or roots.  (the ACV puts natural oils back in your hair and acts as your conditioner would have)  I rinsed.  (Some people leave this in and don’t rinse.  Unbelievably – the vinegar smell completely disappears by the time you’re out of the shower.)
This is the day that 2 random people commented on my hair.  What?  The first day? 
It was easy to curl and felt very clean.

Days 2-4 – (Wed,Thurs,Fri – to Saturday morning) – 4 complete full days later – I decided to wash it again using the solution and ACV.  During these days I was sooo afraid of the transition/grease phase that everyone says happens.  They say if you can just get through those days – you’ll make it.  Extra grease will happen because of the shock and other scientific reasons that I know nothing about - but after a week or two – your hair will realize you’re not putting fake crap in it anymore and it’ll straighten out and be better than you could imagine.
I did have a greasy day or two but nothing horrific.  I used a mixture of cocoa powder and cornstarch (my hair is dark) for a few spots to soak up grease.  Worked great.  I used all my hairspray and stuff the same.  Hair held.  Curl stayed.  Nothing too exciting.

Day 2, 3 and 4 (Sun-Mon-Tues)(after the 2nd washing) – did nothing; styled as usual
Day 5 (Wed) – I did a plain water wash (no baking powder) and sprayed ACV on my ends and rinsed – nothing else.  I did this because on Day 3 and 4 I had curled my hair using a 3 pronged barrel and after two days of that, I wanted a different curl so I needed to rinse out the curl.
I straightened my hair after the plain water wash.  Hair seems heavy to me.  More substantial.  Less fly-aways.  Very easy to straighten. Seemed smoother than usual.  I did use my cocoa powder/cornstarch mixture near my roots on the sides of my head to absorb a little grease.  Nothing too major though.  Bleached ends of bangs seem the same.  No worse or better.

Day 6 – tomorrow (Thurs) – I will still not wash or even do ACV tonight (Wed).  I will curl my hair using a 1” barrel since in the morning since I had it straight. 
I will say I think I’m using less hairspray and product and my styles do seem to stay better. 

Holy shit – that’s 6 whole days with no kind of wash on my hair.  I’ve probably never gone that long before.  I mean holy crap really! 
My reaction after nearly 2 weeks of doing this.  Hmmm – I’m still on the fence.  I think I’m still in transition.  I think my hair is still trying to figure out if it has to make its own oils or if I’m going to put fake ones in using shampoo. 

I’m not ready to throw in the towel and go back to shampoo yet.  I want to see if I can continue this until Thanksgiving to see after a good solid month of nothing but natural – if my hair is amazing or just the same.  Same length or did it noticeably grow?  How are my damaged spots?  Still dry or healed?  Soft?  Manageable?  Etc.
I’ll keep you posted.  So far so good.  No major negatives or positives other than I’m not buying $30 bottles of shampoos every other day in search of the “one” that turns my hair into amazing with just one wash.  For the record – haven’t found that yet and I have a cupboard full to prove it.

Stay tuned!

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

I'm raising assholes.

It’s the day after my birthday and for this egotistical maniac…that sucks.  It’s like the day after Christmas.  You realize it’s over and you have to wait an entire year to feel the magic again.  Depressing to say the least.

So I’m crabby….mainly because last night I got a migraine and migraines make me sad emotionally and fatigued physically from the meds I take to stop it.  Add to that it’s the day after my birthday and a bunch of other things I’m about to complain about – and it’s not a good day.
Rambo transferred to a new prison.  You all know that.  With his high level of seniority I was praying he’d stay on first shift.  At this point – it’s looking like it’ll be second shift.  Just typing that brings tears to my eyes.  My girls are going to cry when they figure out what this means.  They won’t see their Dad like they do now and that’s something I swore I’d never let happen.  It was the story of my life..and I didn’t want it to be the same for my girls. 

And then there’s me.  Rambo is the person I come home to each night that makes every single day better.  I walk into hugs.  Laughs.  Kisses.  A bath before we go to bed.  Talking.  More hugging.  All the things that I’ve come to rely on that make each tough day – not so tough.  I don’t know how I’ll handle this.  I can’t really even think about it. 
It is temporary.  That’s what I’m hanging on to.  Things could change as early as January…and I will remain grateful he has a great job.  We are blessed…and I need to stop whining and buck up.  He doesn’t need to worry about how his girls will feel.  He only needs to know we support him and we can do this.

He doesn’t need me to tell him that I want to fall apart in his arms about this.  (dramatic much?) He already knows by looking in my eyes.
Secondly – shit on a stick – I can’t find time to clean my damn house.  Banana’s birthday is coming.  I have to make 2 pans of brownies – in a kitchen where no counterspace is visible because it’s covered in shit.  Papers, dishes, more papers, book bags, more shit.  Let’s not talk about the bathroom.  People are coming over to have cake with us.  People.  In my house.  That could be on an episode of hoarders.

Okay – fine.  It’s not that bad but it feels that bad to me.  I can’t handle it.  I don’t know how to.  Last night I literally walked in the door and gathered my board meeting stuff.  Rambo pulled in the driveway and literally never even took his uniform off.  We went to the board meeting. 
Rambo surprised me with a cake and candles and the men at the meeting “almost” sang Happy Birthday to me until I told them not to.  Lol

We got home.  Supper.  Mother-effing homework.  More mother-effing homework.  Deal with both of our other part time jobs for a second.  Put shit away. 
Realize laundry isn’t going to happen.  Dishes?  Hell no.  Sit down and relax?  What the hell is that?  Work out?  Yah – um did you forget the kids still have baths and need about 18 papers signed for school tomorrow?  And write a check for lunch money.  And a stupid t-shirt and a pizza party. 

And plan your kids cake/party.  Invite people.  Make the f*cking brownies.  Oh what?  It’s bed time.
Jesus.

I can’t do this.  Yes – this is ALL self-inflicted.  I know this.  Please just let me whine until you remind me of that.  Sometimes it’s just too much.  It just is.  I feel like I’m failing – BAD.
Which brings me to even more failing.  I’m raising jerks.  Brats.  Selfish hellions.

Rambo was NOT happy my kids didn’t say Happy Birthday to me.  They didn’t forget – they knew – they just didn’t say anything.  Fine, whatever.  That’s really not the point.  The point for him to them was “think about someone other than yourself”.  He was very disappointed in them and he let them know.
He knows the lengths I go to to make their own day/month special.  He knows how hard I try.  I think – like me – he feels like he’s failing sometimes.

We give them too much.  I’m the first to admit that I give them things because as a little girl I had nothing.  I was the “poor one”.  The one who never had the shoes anyone else did.  Who shopped at thrift stores.  Blah, blah, blah.  It shaped me.  It molded me.  In a private school filled with kids who had it all – it was torture to be the one who didn’t.  No one knew the only reason I was in that private school was because we got grant money.  We didn’t pay for it like the others did.
I went to a private school – that I didn’t belong in.  I never want my kids to feel that or be “that kid”….so I give too much.  And they probably feel entitled at this point.  They probably expect shit.  They don’t know what it’s like to not have things.

And that’s on me and Rambo.  It is not the way we want our kids to grow up or be. 
We have to change things.  We’re going to start having discussions about compassion and empathy and how to be grateful and how others don’t have what they have come to expect.  We’re going to put verbs in our sentences and do things to help others.  If I have to find a soup kitchen and take them there to work – I will.

If I make them use their birthday money to help out a homeless shelter, I will.  I will find a way to make them see that giving is the only thing in life that can lift your soul like nothing else. 
I did this to them and I will help un-do it…before it’s too late.  They will know that the only thing I ever want them to end up being before anything else – is KIND.  Compassionate.  Loving.  Unselfish.

This is not the parent I wanted to be.  Seven jobs, a hoarder’s kitchen, no time to spare – all excuses.  None of which are valid.  I’m so angry at myself for allowing this to happen. 
Yah – they are good kids.  Don’t get me wrong.  They aren’t monsters but some things need to change.

You want some proof?

This morning I gave the older child a $20 bill – to attend a pizza party and to buy a shirt with her name on it.  Neither of those things are a requirement.  They are a bonus to her life.  They are things that I myself never ever would have been allowed to have or do.  There wouldn’t have been a $20 bill available.  Period.
My kid?  Well – she didn’t take the $20 bill.  You see – her pizza party cost $4.  Her shirt cost $15.  I told her to go to the office and ask for change.  Not a hard thing to do.  One little step to get two things she wants badly.

She doesn’t want to ask for change.  That’s just too embarrassing or some damn thing.
She left the $20 on the cupboard and was pissed at me.  Because in my never-ending day yesterday – I didn’t get the right change.  I’m so f*cking sorry.

Oh and by the way Mom – will the new boots you ordered me be in by Thursday so I can wear them to the dance?
Dances?  New shoes?  Pizza parties?  Shirts?  I could only have dreamed.

And if you think it’s only the old one – you’re wrong.  We took the little one out for pizza Saturday.  Had a great time.  Walked out into the entry way on our way out and there was a gumball machine.  I told her I didn’t have a quarter.
She said, “Geez Mom.  You’re no fun at all.”

Yah.  You’re right.  I just take you out for pizza and later I’ll take you to a Halloween event.  But you’re right.  I suck.  I should try harder.  Man – she’s lucky Rambo didn’t hear her.
But yah – it’s my fault.  I should then not take her to the next event or I should have shot down her comment.  But I didn’t.  Because somewhere in my soul – as a mother – I’m too afraid of them feeling like I did as a child.  I’m afraid I’m not doing enough.  I’m afraid there’s truth in their comebacks that hurt me so deeply.

I’m teaching them to be assholes to me.  It has to stop.  It just has to.
It starts with consequences and more of Rambo and I saying no.  And discussions about our expectations as parents.  It starts tonight. 

I just hope it’s not too late. 
Please, please if you’re going to comment and rip on me and tell me all the things that I already know I’m doing wrong – just don’t.  Until you have a child and her compassion rivals that of Mother Teresa’s….I just can’t hear it today. 

Tomorrow feel free to rip on me all you want.  I welcome it.
 Just not today though. 

Today I might shank you.  Tomorrow I’ll just agree with you.

Monday, October 21, 2013

Snake casserole.

It should be some kind of earthly rule that if it’s your birthday – you should automatically have an amazing hair day.  I mean really.  Why is that too much to ask?

Having now gotten that off my chest, I’ll try to give a quick weekend recap because I’m sure your day can’t commence without one.  Uh-huh.
Because Rambo is transferring to a new prison, he had the weekend off!  YAY!  We have children though so our lives are not our own and we spent most of the weekend at tournaments and Halloween events. 

Also – side note – speaking of those children.  They are selfish shits.  Neither of them said Happy Birthday to me this morning.  It’s true that I only saw them for about half an hour but still in that amount of time I think Rambo said it 50 times.  Little turds.
Saturday Rambo and I took a nap, watched football and watched Hangover III.  We are super exciting people.  Everyone wants to be like us.  Try not to hate.

Sunday – because of a street project that Rambo is heading up – he had to go door to door on that street and literally ask people what their income is.  I’m going to go on record here saying that I’d rather have lunch with Satan at a place that only serves snake casserole.  Seriously. 
I will also go on record saying that if you were to go door to door and ask people about their sex lives, they’d more willingly tell you that than what they make.  It’s beyond me why what someone else chooses to pay you that is completely out of your control is such a taboo subject. 

Anyway – I couldn’t have done it.  I’d have had hives on my tongue and diarrhea on each person’s front steps.  Just no thank you.
My child wants an American Girl doll for her birthday.  I wish she understood that the only person who is allowed to spend that kind of money on anything is her mom.  Oh God – calm down.  I’m kidding. 

However – I’m just not sure how committed she is to this type of doll.  Like – will it be at the bottom of her toy box in a week or will she seriously play with it and keep it nice?  Until I know – I went to Walmart and bought her a Madame Alexander doll and told her it was an American Girl doll. 

She’s all like, “Walmart sells AG dolls?”
And I’m all like, “Hell yes.  Isn’t Walmart the bee’s knees?”

$27.97.  Spank you very much.
I think instead of having ice cream with my co-workers today for my birthday as is the tradition – I’m going to ask for caramel apples.  Doesn’t that sound good?

Yes – I know I’m switching from topic to topic in split seconds.  Just go with it, mkay?
Rambo got me an entire weekend overnight shopping trip for my birthday with my sister and my mom – and no children.  This slightly makes up for the fact that tonight for my birthday – I have a board meeting.  Poo on that.

My only other plans for the night are working out.  Just like a good hair day should be mandatory on one’s birthday…I think working out should not be on the agenda on one’s birthday.  Lame-o.
Okay – that’s it.  Tomorrow I’ll have a no-poo update for you.  Stay tuned.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Slaughter before 7am.

Let’s just do a little randompants, shall we? << like how I make you think you actually have a choice here?  LOL

First off – hear this.  I have ginormous balls of steel. 
Oh, you want proof? 
Fine. 
Here it is. 
This morning I started running my Skittle bath and looked down in my half-asleep state and saw a spider bigger than my balls of steel.  That thing could have bitten my leg clean off.  I swear to God. 
Did I scream?  Nope. 
Did I run?  Nope. 
Did I kill it with my bare hands?  Nope. 
I made the water make the spider go down the drain. 
Buh-bye Spider. 

I slaughtered a helpless creature before 7am so I just knew it was going to be a good day.

What else?  Oh – Biggest Loser came back on last night.  Like or hate the whole show – it’s a really good thing to watch while you’re on the treadmill because you can pretend that the trainers are yelling at you instead of the contestants.  Try it.
I took the plunge and went “no-poo” on Monday night.  My Holy Mother of Mary – who the hell made up the name for this new hair procedure?  It’s horrific.  I can’t even bring myself to say it out loud.

Anywhoozle…it’s only been 2 full days since I haven’t shampoo-ed my hair which in truth, is nothing to write home about.  I’ve done that pretty much every weekend of my life.  Today is Day 3 though and I plan to work out so I think when I’m done, I’ll do a pure water rinse only.
I used the baking soda and apple cider vinegar like all the pros said.  It was easy peasy.  Wanna know the weird thing?  I kid you not – the first day – two people said something about my hair.  My one friend actually thought I had my extensions in because it looked so long and full. 

Hmmm…can it work that quickly?  I’m pretending it does.  Talk to me on Thursday when I look like a homeless person who used bacon lard for a pillow.  Greasy won’t begin to explain how my hair will look. 
There’s a transition period where your hair freaks the hell out and goes nutso with the grease and then after that it’s all bliss…if you make it through the transition.  For me, it’s not going to be called transition.  It’s going to be called “wear a hat every day if you have to”.

I shall keep you posted. 
The only other thing that happened in our household is this. 

Rambo knows about Watermelon’s “boy”.  Even saw a picture of him.  All the better to hunt him down with, right? 

Watermelon wasn’t sure if she wanted him to know until I said, “Hey – what happens if he makes you sad or God forbid, you break up?  Who will you run to when that happens?  Who will you want to hold you?”

She said, “Dad.”
I said, “Um yah.  Kinda hard to tell him why you need holding if you never tell him about the boy in the first place, right?”

So yah – Rambo knows.  No one has died yet.  No broken hearts or castrations have taken place.
Yet.

Also, Rambo is transferring to a new prison in two days.  There should be less feces and urine throwing, less blood, less tazing and suiting up, less fights, and less stress due to it being a lower security prison than where he is now.  Nothing wrong with that, right?
Right. ^^I just realized that above paragraph makes it sound like Rambo is IN prison vs WORKING in the prison.  Ha!

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

I got a porn DVD in the mail today. AT WORK.

I’m not even being funny.  Not even a little.
I can think of little else more embarrassing than getting porn at work that I didn't order  – except receiving TWO porn packages at work.  How does this shit happen to me? 
Let me explain.
I’m the girl that pays all the bills and purchases all the inventory for the company that I work for.  That means the majority of the mail that comes in every day comes to my office.  It’s kind of like Christmas every day with all the packages…and all the bills paying for those packages.
Today I got 5 envelopes.  Two were very similar.  Mailed to our address but to a name I didn’t recognize for our company.  No biggie...that happens a lot.
I open the package and inside it feels like a DVD but I can’t tell because it’s wrapped again.  Hmmm – interesting.  I open that second envelope and it’s a DVD with a letter in it and on the outside there are no pictures or anything.  It just says “Stamina”. 
Shit on a stick.  Calm down I say to myself.  Stamina has many definitions.  Geez.
Then I read the letter that no lie starts out like this, “Hey Man.”
Bigger shit on a stick.
It goes on to say that I can watch this and learn many tricks on how to increase stamina from two famous porn stars and on and on and on.
Now – no – this isn’t that big of a deal.  Mistakes in shipping happen.  It’s fine. 

Well that is to say that it would be fine if on this day, the IT guy AND the maintenance guy weren’t in my office talking to me while I open mail that I DO NOT KNOW IS PORN.  Ugh.
The first guy doesn’t believe it.  He says, “It’s not porn” – it’s just a video.” 
Um yah – read the letter dude.
He reads about 3 sentences – turns eighteen shades of red and says he has to go.  First time I’ve ever seen this guy at a loss for words.
The second guy says I should google the business that it was addressed to.  I do.  I find it.  It’s a business in town.  There’s an email address listed.
Should I email them and say, “Hey – I got your porn here.  Wanna ask your employees if it belongs to them and I’ll mail it right over?”
Also – make a mental note – tell whoever ordered it that each and every time they order and send porn to their workplace that they should check, double check and perhaps even triple check that the address and name is correct.  I’m just sayin’.
My IT guy says he knows where this business is and I should totally go just drop it off.
Yah.  That’s gonna happen.  “Excuse me.  I’m here to deliver your porn.  That I opened.”

Cripes.
I’m taking both videos home to burn in our firepit.  Anyone want to place bets that on the way to my car from my office that a nun magically appears and the porn flies out of my bag right in front of her face and I’ll be forced to explain that it’s not mine even though it’s in my damn bag.  AND open.
Or when I go to the game tonight, my mom will want a ride just this one time because then I’ll be forced to unexpectedly move my bag and the porn will fall right out in front of her face.
This is the shit that happens to people who get porn at work that they didn’t order.
Eeesh.