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.

Monday, October 14, 2013

Ah....love.


That elusive little feeling that people live for, die for, kill for, cry over and yell about on Oprah’s couch.  It makes us do some really stupid things.  As much as it can literally fix and conquer anything – it can destroy people just as easily when it fades or betrays or hurts.
We all grow up watching Disney and we all want the Prince to ride in on the white horse and swoop us away into his castle where we literally live happily ever after. 

However, at some point in our lives, most of us figure out that whole Prince thing is bullshit.  Some men come pretty close but let’s face it – if they have a penis – at some point in their lives – they are going to hurt us.  Probably more than once.  Probably even on purpose.

My emotions were all over the place this weekend because I saw both ends of the love spectrum.   
My Watermelon has found a boy.  Shit!  She talks to him constantly and even saw him at a party this weekend and !gasp! – she held his hand.  Her first ever hand holding.  She’s on Cloud 9.  Dancing around like a unicorn high on Skittles.  Flitting about like a fairy who ingested too much glitter.  It’s fun to watch. 

Also scary as hell.
And then comes the part where she decides to tell Rambo.  Oh honey.  May the Lord be with you. 

Protective of his two girls and me is the understatement of the year.  I don’t know if it’ll be harder to watch her go through her first heartbreak or harder to watch Rambo watch her go through it. 

His heart will break right with hers and my only job will be to keep him from hunting down the boy and castrating him.  I have to remind him that the boys his girls date are not inmates.  They are kids.  You can’t restrain them, taze them, cuff them, strip them naked and tie them to a cement slab or pummel them to oblivion.  You might want to – but you just can’t.

Still – even when her heart gets broken she’ll have more than I ever had.  Big, strong arms that hold her while she cries and a big, strong voice that says she still has a man in her life that loves her.  I hope she never takes that for granted.
So yes – it’s been fun flitting around about the “new boy”.

And then I met with a friend who is going through the opposite.  Years of bliss and togetherness and it all may be ending.  The torture and pain in her eyes is almost unbearable to me.  I listened.  I cried and in the end I just held her and told her no matter what she’d get through this.  No matter what. 
She was standing but nearly crumbled in my arms and I held her up pleading with God to not let this happen.  I don’t know if she can survive it….even though I told her she would.  How can the possibility of losing love bring a confident and strong woman to her knees?  To her breaking point?
To literal despair.  Her pain is physical though it only exists in her heart.  This intangible thing that we can’t even touch has brought this person I love to the edge of her life. 

In the middle of all the joy and pain of love – I sat quietly for a minute by myself.  In love we all use words like always, forever and never - over and over.  As the lover we say them and as the lovee – we believe them when they’re projected at us.

And yet, there’s no guarantee.  There.  Just.  Isn’t.
We get hurt and so we swear we’re going to live alone in a van by the river with 6 dogs and a hamster and 2 cats.  We say we don’t need love.  It is a foolish game we can exist without.

Except we can’t.  Even when we aren’t looking for love – we are.  We just pretend we aren’t.
We crave it.  We don’t want to – but we do.

And the world keeps spinning.  Some people are giggling like little school girls as if they were floating on clouds while some people hearts are shattering into a million painful pieces.
All from love.  A little 4 lettered word.

That crazy – and oh so powerful - little thing called love.

Friday, October 11, 2013

Ten Things Thursday even though it's Friday!


Ten Things Thursday…a day late.  Sue me.
1-Last week I went to the kitchen at work and got out my chicken, broccoli and gravy to heat up in the microwave.  I opened the lid.  I turned towards the microwave and promptly dropped the entire meal on the floor of our breakroom.

Five second rule?  Yup.  I’m not above eating dirt.  Mama was starving.  I cleaned that shit off the floor quicker than a criminal running from the cops so that no one would see that I was about to eat food off the floor at work.
I’m so classy.  Yes?

2-My second grader has homework every night.  I’m about to shank the teacher in the leg with a fork.  Homework sucks donkey tits.
3-My seventh grader has a game or practice every night which means we sometimes don’t walk into our home until 7pm.  And there’s homework and baths and suppers and all that shit.  For the life of me – I do not understand how any parent manages more than two kids.  I’m not kidding.  I bow down to you.  And I also bow down to the Gods above who created Hot Pockets.  They were supper about 4 times last week.  Eat your heart out, Betty Crocker.

4-My Dad asked me for two pictures of my girls for his toolbox at work.  I nearly lost my shit right there because I wanted to do the ugly cry.  A simple request to so many….immense beyond measure to me considering our history.
5-I made a goal to declutter our house and my life lately.  I have a 2 page list of what this entails.  I sat Rambo down and showed him said list and told him I “need” to do this to feel better about things.  He agreed to help.  Cue the copious bags of stuff that I don’t use or need that will be thrown out this weekend.  I cannot wait.  The organizer in me is giddy about doing this. 

6-October rocks.  Why?  Well mostly because it’s my birthday MONTH.  In our family – you get a birthday MONTH.  Rambo started it a long time ago for me and I do it for my girls now.  Every single day of their birthday month they get to pick from a bag of presents. 
Now listen – these are not big presents.  Most cost $1.00 or less.  They are things like candy bars, a notebook, a fun pen, a fancy cup, a pack of Oreos, stickers, etc.  All things that the birthday person would love.  Banana loves it.  She sticks her hand in that bag forever - feeling around - trying to pick out just the right thing. 
Rambo is kicking ass this year for me as well.  I got a little owl Happy Fall hanging, a very cool Bucky Badger foam hand thing for my car, my favorite candy a few days and even some of my favorite Sharpie pens in cool colors.  I can’t remember the rest but it’s super fun. 

Without a birthday – no one would be here and being here is the thing I love most about my girls.  That I have them.  And I will celebrate that all month…not just one day.
7-Speaking of birthdays…Banana told me her arm hurt the other day.  She claims it is because it is her birthday month so she is having a growth spurG.  I don’t have the heart to tell her it’s a growth spurT.

8-I recently carved pumpkins last week for the first time in my entire life.  Have I mentioned I’m a bit unworldly?  This is just more proof.  Never owned a Barbie doll, never been on a roller coaster or a ferris wheel, never flown….and the list goes on.  I was raised to be afraid and paranoid of most things and it’s a daily struggle to fight that with respect to trying new things.
9-I’m seriously considering trying the no-poo method for my hair.  Any of you do this?  It’s essentially never using shampoo or conditioner on your hair ever again and only washing once a week or so.  Off the cuff – it sounds like something a homeless person would be forced to do – not something you’d want to do.  However – if you do some research, you’ll find that about 99% of people swear by it and the movement gains more followers every day. 

10-Rambo’s birthday month is coming up and I’m trying to figure out and plan his daily presents.  So far this is what I’ve come up with.  Day 1 – picture of my left boob.  Day 2 – picture of my right boob.  Okay – fine – let’s be honest.  I’ll probably use a picture of a nice, perky, huge boob from the internet and pass it off as mine (20 years ago).  Then Days 3-30, I’ll put 28 thongs in a bag and have him pick one a day.   Donezo.  Men are just so simple-minded, don’t you think?