Saturday, January 30, 2010

The anxiously awaited Part II

For 1-5 go here.

And now on to Part II:

6. Alone time...Of course I love my family and my children (yes, really) but I'm with my kids 24 HOURS A DAY. I share a bed with no less than one on any given night. I haven't peed by myself in about 6 years. I take showers with small people clustered around my feet. I've developed a contortion method of rinsing shampoo out of my hair to avoid getting soap in their little eyes. So, when I have a few minutes, or hours ALONE, it is quite wonderful. Nirvana. It doesn't happen very often due to my husband's erratic work hours, but when I does, I feel like a kid in Disneyland. I've been known to nap. Yes. I know. Sinful. I also eat ice cream, blog without guilt, write, read...oh, the bliss!

7. Shopping...but not just general shopping. I love shoes and coats. It's possible that I'm a bit obsessed with both. And I don't know why. Otherwise I am a reasonably intelligent person but I get stupid when faced with these items. Yes, I know I already have over 100 pairs of shoes, "But oh god!," I'll think. "I have to have these!" And this coat? It will be mine. It will keep the other several dozen company...I harass my husband for his addiction to knives and work gloves, but I really have no place to talk. At least work gloves are for work. Knives cut things. Peep toe heels + stay at home mom? Not quite so useful. And I don't care about brands or who makes what. If I like them and can afford them, I buy them. I am an equal opportunity purchaser.
My current favorite...a gift from my husband.

A friend from Guam gave me this one.
This one supposedly belonged to one of the first female doctors in the Denver area in the late 1800s. Not sure if that's true or not, but I love it.

8. Books. Books make me very happy. New books, old books, middle aged books...they're all beautiful. I have my grandpa's collection of books. I love the smell, the way they feel in my hands, the many stories and characters that each one contains. The glimpse into the author's personality. I could spend hours and hours in a bookstore. My favorite book, I have to admit, is not very literary or intellectual and it's not on the 100 must-read-book list, but it was so inspiring to me. I read it at least once a year. The imagination, the concept, the writing; "Weaveworld" by Clive Barker. Actually I love everything by him. I've read a lot of good books in my life, but that one will always be on the top of my 100 must-read list. I also love "The Shadow of the Wind" by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Good stuff.
My reading corner. You know...when I actually get a chance to read a book without pictures.

9. Traveling. I love to travel. Admittedly, I haven't gone that many places. I've only left the country twice, once to Mexico and once for Tahiti. And I think I've only visited about half of the states here, but every time I get the chance to go somewhere, I love it. Even overnight stays close to home are wonderful. I'm never ready to come back home. I think I could easily be one of those people that could travel for months at a time. I don't seem to get homesick. I have so many places that I want to see. Starting with Egypt. ( I also have a bit of a fascination with history and archeology.) Ah...someday.

And finally...

10. Blogging! Obviously, I like the writing aspect, but I've discovered that I love the interaction with other people as well. I love comments. And that's putting it mildly. I LOVE COMMENTS! There. That's better. I love email. (Actually, I love regular mail, too. Is there anything better than getting a letter?) I love all the connections I'm making. I love you! I love reading other people's blogs and knowing that I'm not alone in my day to day insanity. There are some of you out there that are even more insane than I am. And that's comforting. Things I'm reluctant to talk about in real life, like my depression and the hard parenting days, I can write about here and the support I receive is stunning. Thank you for that. And I think I've said it before and I'll admit it's a bit Hallmark-ish, but blogging makes the world a lot smaller and a heck of a lot friendlier.

And there you have it. I'm not going to tag anyone else but if you haven't done the 10 Things thing yet, then go for it! It's fun. I thought it would be hard at first, but now I think I could easily keep going. I guess that makes me a lucky girl.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Ok, ok...I'll do it...Part I

I've been tagged several times for this, but I haven't been all that pleasant and I was quite enjoying dwelling on the depressing aspects of my life. But I figure I could use a little cheer and this meme is going to make me think about happy things. *shudder*

I started to do it last night, but somehow ended up on the subject of candy. I will not let anything distract me today.

Besides, the candy is all gone.

10 Things that make me happy...


Of course, my family and children do, but that's too obvious and quite frankly, they are just as likely to make me unhappy at any given time. So, I'll stick to the shallow, but consistent.

1.Bare baby feet (when they are attached to a baby, of course). Even when they are screaming and crying and I'm ready to lock them in the closet, their toes are always cute. And they always make me smile. Even angry toes.
(These are sleepy toes.)

2. Being creative. I love to paint and draw and play with clay...but I haven't had much opportunity to do any of that over the past few years. I really need to get back on it. It really does make me feel good, but I've noticed that oil paints and linseed oil do not work well around little children...

(pastel)

3. Writing. I seriously believe that this is my purpose in life. To write. I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to do with it, but it's what makes me who I am. I write, therefore I am. Or something like that. It keeps me sane, it keeps me happy. While the majority of my brain is occupied with what we owe who, when the last time I changed the baby was and why the other kids are so quiet, there is a small part that spends all it's time lost in words. Writing, imagining, creating characters, etc. I may have even written a sex scene or two in my head, while engaging in said act. Yes. Really. I imagine conversations in my head, written out like in a book. I'm pretty sure that's not normal. (Tell me I'm normal.) I currently have two novels going, both about a quarter of the way finished. I may think about them constantly, but again, haven't found a lot of time to sit down and work on them. Right now, blogging is feeding that addiction. It doesn't require as much undivided attention as my novels do. It's easy to just stop and walk away when I have to. I could lose myself for months in my books, which really doesn't make for good parenting.

4. Going out to dinner with my husband. And not to McDonald's or someplace like that. I mean a real restaurant, with menus that you can't color on. Where I can dress up in one of my scarcely worn dresses and a pair of great shoes. I fix my hair, put on lipstick and wear my nice underwear. I can lean seductively over the table, while I twirl my wine in the glass, giving my husband a glimpse down the front of my shirt. We can linger over an appetizer and I don't have to constantly be the entertainment for 3 small children who refuse to be entertained. I don't have to cut up food for little mouths, while mine gets cold. I can eat hot food and I can pick anything I want, not something that I can share with baby. Ahhh...bliss.




5. Mountains. My dream house is a log cabin, in the middle of nowhere. Pine trees as far as the eye can see, a rushing river, wild life...I love the mountains. I love hiking and camping and just being in them. Preferably near a river. It's just so peaceful.


And I'm out of time...stay tuned for Part II...

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

A Post of Pointlessness...and candy

I rate holidays by the quality of their candy. Halloween has candy corn, and who besides the stupid Moose A. Moose on Nick Jr., doesn't like candy corns?? They're delicious. Except the chocolate flavored ones. Those are just gross.



Easter has the Cadbury Eggs...the chocolate, the gooey, yummy, sugary center. If you're lucky, you get one that the tin foil wrapper doesn't stick to and you don't even have to get your hands sticky. Yummm... These I have to hide from the kids. To save them from themselves, of course.


But Valentine's Day is the best. Because of the Brachs Conversation hearts. Which I'm eating right now. I remember these from elementary school. I got some once, in my Valentine box from a boy I liked and I remember reading each one, carefully deciphering any hidden message. Did he love me? Did he really think I was a cutie pie? I'm pretty sure that none of them said "lol" like the one I just ate did. How romantic. But I suppose that's better than the "dirty whore" and "spread them" ones that I saw while searching for the below image.



I don't, however, like the white ones, the yellow ones or the pink ones. I pick out the purple, orange and green ones and leave the rest for my husband and children. My kids will eat anything that might have a high sugar content and my husband insists that they all taste the same, but obviously, my palate must be much more refined because I am able to distinguish the subtle nuances in taste...Orange really good, green good, pink gross, white really, really gross. In fact, all that is now left in the bag are the gross ones. That means that I ate about three quarters of a bag in about 20 minutes and my tongue and teeth feel all funny. So does my stomach.

Fortunately the kids are all asleep. Do as I say, children, not as I do.

I'm going to go and brush my teeth now.

Friday, January 22, 2010

You guys are amazing. Love you all...

I wanted to thank you guys for the super nice comments you had left on my last post. I'm trying to get back to everyone, but in case I don't, thank you, thank you, thank you. I just want to scoop all of you up into a huge bear hug and squeeeeeze. Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you couldn't breath...CRACK...was that your rib?? Um, sorry...how about I just blow you a kiss...

Anyway, thank you. You guys are amazing.

The funeral was today and was, as expected, heartbreaking. I hadn't seen him since I was young, so I don't have any memories of him as an adult and it was hard reconciling the memories I had of him of us as children, to the man he had ultimately become and died as. He had two young daughters, their eyes red and puffy. It was so hard to look at them. His mom and dad, his brother, his wife...the anguish, oh, it was gut wrenching. Alcoholism played a big part in his death, as it seems to do in a lot of cases, including my grandfather's. Why are drugs illegal, when alcohol can do just as much, if not more, damage to a person and their family?

"This must be a lenient Catholic Church, because most wouldn't even do a service for a suicide..."someone had said. What makes them think they are so superior, I wonder. Who are they to judge? I don't understand. Which I guess is the reason that I do not agree with organized religion. But that's another post...

The good thing about funerals is seeing all the people that you really shouldn't wait for a funeral to see...people whom I hadn't seen in years. People and family that were once a very big part of my life. And saying "it's so good to see you again!" seems kind of out place when someone has just died. But despite the circumstances, it was good to see them. And my favorite part of the day came when Jen, my cousin with Down Syndrome, was standing by one of the tables rocking out to Johnny Cash. And I don't mean swaying back and forth to the music. I mean, all in, singing and dancing her heart out. We all should be so uninhibited and joyful. She managed to bring the mood in that room up a hundred notches, just by being herself. It was beautiful. In an otherwise heartbreaking day.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Suicide

I've started this post about 10 times, and I keep deleting, retyping, deleting...my mind is so scattered lately that I'm having a hard time thinking coherent thoughts. We had a suicide in the family this weekend and I've been talking to my brother on the phone about it for the last hour. It's one of those acts that is so difficult to comprehend. In the darkest depths of my depression, when it physically hurt to get out of bed, when the thought of another day would send me into an anxiety attack, I never once reached for the gun. I won't deny that I thought about it, but instead, I went to the doctor and had my meds changed around. And here I am. Alive. When there are so many who choose not to be. I think about the children he left behind, his wife, his parents, and I hurt for them. Is there any worse way to lose a child? It's a selfish thing to do, yes, but who are we to judge?

My grandfather shot himself in the head a few years back and a "friend" told me he was going to hell for it. Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs, but I for one, do not believe in a God that is that lacking in compassion. To imagine the magnitude of the kind of despair, the kind of hopelessness that would bring someone to that end...it's heartbreaking. And my heart breaks for those who were close to him, to those who thought they could brighten his day, to make it all better, when they couldn't. No one can.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Damn you, Pink. Damn you.

This afternoon, I loaded the kids into the car and we headed to my parent's house. It's about an hour away, so I can always count on all three of them to take a little nap. Even the most stubborn children cannot stay awake when faced with the sleep inducing effects of a nice, warm car..the lolling back and forth... the mid afternoon sun streaming through the window... watching the snowcovered fields blur past your window. See, you're getting tired aren't you? Never fails...

So, kids are asleep and I stick a Pink CD in and crank it up. Normally, I don't care for pop music, but I like her.



She looks like she'd be fun to hang out with, dontcha think? She would do all the crazy stuff and I'd be the designated driver. Her music is fun to sing to and since the children are unable to tell me to stop, I was singing along, at the top of my lungs...

"...you talk real loud but you ain't saying nothing cool
I could fit your whole house in my swimming pool..."

I'm sounding damn good, lamenting the fact that I'm too old for American Idol. I'd blow them away with my version of Pink. I'd need some kind of gimmick though...what could I do? Colored hair extensions? A real funky outfit? Like a signature jacket, or...oh...crap. Crap. Cop. I hit the brakes like I'm guilty. Glance at the speedometer...55 miles an hour...Crap. Speed limit...35 miles an hour...CRAP. I can't get much guiltier. Maybe he's on lunch break and didn't see...oh. He sees me.





He pulls in behind me and I contemplate speeding up. Could my old suburban outrun his patrol car? There's no way he could catch me once we were on those icy back roads! Then I see the newspaper headline: MOM ATTEMPTS TO OUTRUN COP WITH KIDS IN CAR and beneath that there's a picture of me in handcuffs. And really, my hair is kind of crappy and I don't want anyone taking my picture. So, I pull over. (Even though sometimes I think a few weeks in a nice jail cell, all alone, would be quite nice.)

Mr. Cop saunters up to my car and holds his radar gun out at me. 55.

"You were going 55 in a 35 mile an hour zone," he says.

"Uh..." was my clever response.

"Why?" he asks.

"I was singing," I say. Yes, really. Mr. Cop laughed at me.

"Nothing wrong with that. Can I see your license and registration?" I frantically dig through my glove box. I have registrations from the past 5 years. I have insurance slips from 5 years ago. Of course, I can't find the current one. He takes the slips from last year and goes back to his car.

Nick wakes up.

"Why are we stopped?"
"Because a cop pulled me over."
"Oh. Where you going too fast?"
"Yep."
"Oh. Is he getting you a receipt?"
"Um...yeah. A receipt."

Cop comes back. Cop gives me a ticket. My very first ticket, EVER in my entire good girl life. He explained that it was originally a 6 POINT ticket and a much larger fine, but he put it down to 44 in a 35, 1 point and a $120 fine. Thank you Mr. Cop. I think.

"Drive safe now."

I turned Pink off. It's her fault. If I were listening to say...Nine Inch Nails, I probably wouldn't have been singing or fantasizing about being famous. So, actually Pink is to blame here. I'm going to send her the ticket. $120 is nothing to her, right? For me, that's like my weekly grocery money.

Then, on the way home tonight, I saw a deer get hit by a truck. That's an image I could do without, thank you. It brought back horrific memories of a car vs. buck incident that I had the misfortune to witness as a child. I'll spare you.

Uh huh. Good day to be on the roads. Think I'll be staying in tomorrow.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Warning: Long post. About groceries. You've been warned.

Hell is not scorching flames or dense black smoke, stinging the eyes of the evildoers. There are no pitchforks, or red fleshed devils dancing on the broken bones of the heartless. No.


Hell is aisle after aisle of cleaning supplies, produce, frozen vegetables, lunch meat, eggs and diapers. In Hell, you can buy your feminine hygiene products, pick up a bag of cat food, buy paint, poor quality clothes, towels and small household appliances. Tinny pop music filters down from the ceiling and there are people converged around the discounted rack of Christmas decorations. Yes.

Walmart. Is. Hell.

Add in three small, extremely irritated children, a squeaky cart, a huge list and a very small budget. In no time at all, your face will become very red and you'll be looking for a pitchfork, or any other sharp, pointed object with which you would like to poke people. Three small children included.

I had to park at the very edge of the parking lot, because the lot was still snowpacked and therefore there are no lines. Therefore, people forget how to park straight. Therefore, the area that once could hold 50 cars now can only hold 25. It was also zero degrees out. We trudge to the store, baby, purse, cloth bags and cart cover in one hand, Delaney's hand in the other, yelling at Nick TO STOP RUNNING!

I'm gasping for air and pissed off before we even get our cart. And since Walmart only seems to carry one of the carts that actually has the seats for extra kids, I never get one (and it always ticks me off when I see someone in the store with it and they only have one kid in it. It makes me want to say bad words.)


So I get a regular one and set Delaney in the basket part, the baby in the baby seat.

"I DON'T WANT TO RIDE IN THE CART!" She screams. Did I mention that on the way to the store she had fallen asleep in the car and I had to wake her up? Did I mention what a MONSTER she is when that happens? No? Oh. Well. She did, I did and she is.

"I don't care," I say. Reasonably calm. "We will do this fast. In and out, quick and it will be done." Just like sex.
"WAHHHHHH," scream the baby.
"I'm being good mom," says Nick. Kiss up, I think.
"Yes, you are. Thank you. Would you like to carry the list?" I ask him. He takes it and Delaney screams again.

People are starting to stare and I've only been in the door 30 seconds. I seriously contemplate turning around and leaving. And would have, if we weren't in such desperate need of so many things. I could tell that it was not going to go well.

Ok. Breath in. Not too deeply. Why does Walmart always smell like old socks? Breath out. Ok. You can do this. Bananas. Check. Apples. Check.


(bad banana)

And on down the list. If I keep the cart moving, Delaney can't try and crawl over the side so I grab things as I rush by. Tortillas. Check. Bread. Why do they never have the kind of bread I like?? Ok, fine. I'll get this one. About 5 loaves of it because suddenly toast is all Nick will eat. Which is also why I need a new toaster. Next aisle... Ok, lady, yes, I see you're in a motorized cart. That doesn't mean you can park it sideways in the aisle. I know you can see me, don't act so enthralled with that box of rice. It says 90-seconds. Now move. MOVE!

"Excuse me," I say politely. Not a flicker. Do I ram her? Tempted. Sigh. "EXCUSE ME!"

She moves about 2 inches. Sigh. I inch around her. I may have accidentally bumped her.

"Nick! Get off the floor!"
"Nick, get over here! NOW!"
"Nick, look out. They are trying to get around you."
"Nick, let me have the li...Nick. Where is the list??"
Silence.
"Dunno," he shrugs.
Sigh.
I have to get Delaney out because there isn't room anymore. Grand.
"Nick and Delaney! Come back here!"
"Delaney! PUT THAT DOWN!"
"But I love it! I want it!" She whines.
"You don't even know what it is."
"MOM!" Nick shouts! "Crush cups! I have to have these!"
"You don't like yogurt."
"BUT CRUSH CUPS! I know I'd like them."


Ah, the wonders of advertising. With a clever enough campaign, I bet they could even make the kid willing to drink his own urine. Because usually when I suggest yogurt, he acts like that's exactly what I've asked him to do.

Anyway...I finish my shopping, sans list, shouting and hollering at three children. Is there any wonder that I forgot several prime items? It's tough to make tacos without taco shells. If one more person looked at me and said "Looks like you have your hands full! Ha, ha!" when they meant "God woman, curb your frickin' kids!" I was going to impale them on that pitchfork.

In the check out line, I get the woman who bags groceries like she no doubt drives...15 miles below the speed limit. And I like my canvas bags. But she obviously hated them and she made sure I noticed how much more difficult they were for her to deal with. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone in line. I could read their minds. And it wasn't nice. Then I pull out my checkbook and cash to pay, and I swear I could hear people behind me moan. Hey. Give me a break people! At least I'm not counting out pennies.


To sum things up: I got groceries. I got all three kids in the car. I got us home. I got all groceries put away. I got migraine.

The end.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Magical elves and pin up girls

I know you have been out there, wringing your hands and fretting, wondering where I have been. *snicker* So, here I am, to set your mind at ease. Creepy Santa and his bulging sack did not come back to carry me off. Nope. Rather, it was my computer which"fried the motherboard", or so said the expert. Fortunately, it was still under warranty so they were able to replace it, free of charge. Unfortunately, it is apparently a rare and unusual motherboard that is made by magical elves that only work three days a year.



So it took a while to get it repaired. OK, so maybe it was only a week but it felt like forever. I started the new year without a computer. It’s been terrible. Possible foreclosure? Ah, no big deal. Repossessed cars? So what. IRS Levy? Oh well. No computer? What? WHAT? ARE YOU SERIOUS?? OH GOD? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW??

And that’s exactly how it happened. Pretty much.

In other news...I've decided what I'm going to do for my husband for Valentine's Day. I'm going to have boudoir pictures taken! I'm kind of excited about it. I going to have it done in the pin up style because I've always loved those old prints from the 40s and 50s. I love the hair and the styles. They managed to be sexy and innocent at the same time. I'm having them done by a friend who is really good at what she does. I'm really looking forward to it! I'm just not sure I can pull off the "sexy". My sexy face is more of a grimace, or a teeth baring snarl...rawr.

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