System Re-Boot

You know, I was reading Bunny’s Blog this weekend and she had a fantastic idea.  What if we could completely change everything around in our lives; as if we were re-configuring our computer desktop?  I am intrigued by this idea.

They say that when life brings you lemons you should make lemonade.  I want to know who “they” are.

Life is hard.  This is an understatement, and unfortunately is not always fair.  Hard is in the eye of the person being tried by difficult times.  Hard to them could mean they broke a nail or they didn’t get their Marie Claire when they were supposed to.  Hard to them could mean they missed the par shot and had to buy their buddy a beer.  Hard to them could mean they had to put their pet to sleep, or had to sit for eons in a waiting room while waiting for a relative or dear friend to come out of surgery.  Hard could also change.  What may be hard for us today might be a breeze a week from now.  We might be happy to take today as compared to what we will go through in a few weeks.  What sucks it that we can’t store the hard times for later.  We have to deal with them as they come.  We can never tell what’s going to happen.  It’s a blessing and it’s a curse.

I’m going through a patch where I wish things were lain out in front of me to know what’s going to happen.  There are too many grey areas for my liking; too many things that I wish I could predict.  But I can’t.  So I wait for clarification, for things to calm down, for things to become more manageable.  This is in more than one area.  Work, home, dating, friendship.  The planner in me craves the knowledge.  I yearn to know what’s going to happen, so I can plan on dealing with it.  So I can prepare for it.  So I can focus and move onto the next task.

It’s not fair that it has to be so hard all the time.  I feel unsupported and unfocused.  I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can’t get along with anyone, and I can’t make a decision to save my life.  I’m snappy and mean at work.  I’m withdrawn in my friendships.  I’m pulling away in my “relationship”, in an attempt to save my poor heart from being destroyed.  I’m unfocused and dictator-like at home.

What the hell is going on?  I feel like my desktop been installed with Vista or something.  Nothing is fitting, it all feels different and uncomfortable, and I don’t know how to fix it.

 

Just An Ordinary Day

You know, I’m really tired of being a grown up.  I’m tired of bills, and work, and medical visits, and dental visits.  I’m just exhausted of the whole pissin’ mess.

The bright side is that my 13 year old son seems to have it ALL figured out, and I could magically trade places with him if physics would allow it.  After all, he is sure he can do things so much better than I can.

Why is it that once a human hits that certain point, they become miraculously genius as compared to their parents?  I had no idea I was raising a prodigy.  Sheesh.

Things are rough right now, I haven’t had a good smile in days.  I know I’ve sung this song before.  It has been a normalcy in my life, to not feel happy.  Feeling overwhelmed feels more comfortable than being worry-free.

Work is so busy I can’t even concentrate anymore.  I am once again being burdened to incompetence, and being held accountable for things beyond my control.  I have updated my resume and will begin getting serious about finding a way out.  The tough part is that I live a good hour away from any major cities… with gas as expensive as it is it’s not even worth my while to look, at this point.  I am on the fence.  I like being busy, but I hate feeling like a failure.  It’s so busy and there are so many constant interruptions, that I am unable to get my normal priority tasks done.  It’s frustrating.  I want to punch people in their mouth with a coffee cup.  Grr.

My budget is spread so thin I can read the newspaper through it.  I have visited with my dentist, who put me on a course of strong antibiotics and Vicodin (YAY) until I can get into the oral surgeon’s office in two weeks.  I will have to have two teeth extracted, and then go back to my own dentist for 1 root canal.  When that heals I begin a series of deep tissue cleaning.  Root planing doesn’t even SOUND comfortable.  Thankfully I FINALLY found an awesome dentist.  She has all but vanquished my fears, and she is very sweet and kind.  That doesn’t take away from the fact that I haven’t been for a cleaning in 6 years, and have gum disease as a result.  Joy.  So, kids, make sure you go for your cleanings.  I know it’s scary sometimes, but just go.  So yeah, because of my fear, I am looking at close to 3 grand out of pocket for fixing my mouth.  That’s not counting the bridges I will need to get for the two missing teeth, down the road.  They are back teeth, not aesthetic at all so I will wait until my calendar benefits renew.

Speaking of budgets, I have 3 summer birthdays coming up fast.  Middle Boy wants a new bike, and The Divas want Nintendo DS’s. (Go figure!!)  I have no idea how I’m to pull THIS rabbit out of my hat, but I do know that they all deserve whatever I can get them.  They have been so good.  I am grateful for that.

I am panicking slightly, I guess.  I want everything to just be OK.  I don’t want any more bumps in the road.  Lord knows that I have encountered my fair share of obstacles in the road, but dammit I am tired of them.  I want the Cloverleaf company to come and pave the whole damn thing.  I’m good at persevering, but I don’t understand why it can’t just be easier?

The Divas want to come stay with me for the summer.  The tough part is that BD#2 doesn’t want me to let their big brother watch them.  I can’t afford full time daycare, so they can’t come.  :o(  This depresses me to no end.  I miss them so much and would love nothing better than to be able to see them every day after I come home from work.  They are getting so tall, and they are so smart.  My favorite part of their weekends is when they both fall asleep on my in my smooshy chair.  Sometimes they can fall asleep in mid-sentence.  I love it.  I love their little sleep sounds, and the way they mumble after they are dreaming.

OH - And on the dating front… there is a new boy.  Finally!!  :o)  I guess it’s one thing I can be happy about.  I met him a few months ago; and we have been seeing each other about once a week since them.  Well, a month ago we made the decision to be exclusive.  Hooray!!! He is so grown up.  I won’t talk about him here, because I do need to keep some things private.  But suffice to say that he came at the perfect time in my life.  I’m so happy I met him.  So far, so good, so wish me luck!!

 

Pieces

Things are falling apart right now… my budget is fucked.  I have an abscess tooth I will probably have to have pulled tomorrow.  I’m behind at work.  I need a break.  Stay tuned.

 

Hawt!

I’m so glad this show finally got it right.  Uf, Momma likes.

I’ve disappeared again, will be back soon with all sorts of news and gossip.  I don’t think anyone reads anymore, so this will be news to ME.  :o)

 

I Am The Mommy

You know, I never thought I’d like being a parent.  Children have always been a major frustration for me.  I’m not patient.  I’m not good at cartoon voices.  I can’t draw ponies.

About 14 years ago, I found out I was pregnant with my first child.  I had my whole life ahead of me, and I was not only horrified, but disgusted that I was going to ruin my life by having him.  I rolled my eyes at all the advice I was given.  I picked fights with the people who made rude comments about my young age.  I cried at my first stretch marks.

Then came my first ultrasound.  I have never been more amazed in my life.  From the instant I saw his grainy black and white hand, waving hello, I was hooked.  I apologized a million times to him for regretting him.  I carried the printout of his fuzzy feet with me everywhere.  I counted the days until he would be here.  I bought more socks than he would ever use.

When he came into the world a quiet blue mess, I nearly lost my life.  There were complications in the delivery, and I hemorrhaged on the birth table.  I didn’t understand why he wasn’t crying.  I just wanted him to cry.  That’s how it happened on the TV shows, right?  The baby comes out, perfect round head, gazes at his mother, and cries the perfect raspy baby cry.  Only this wasn’t like anything I was prepared for.  I was so tired, and there was so much blood.  He finally cried his first cry, and I fainted.

I woke up alone, shaky, in the recovery room.  I wanted my baby, but the nurse wouldn’t let me have him until I had a blood transfusion.  She told me how lucky I was, and how beautiful my son was.  She told me he was the biggest baby in the nursery (8 lbs. 14 oz.) and that he was very quiet.

When I finally met my son, I was fascinated.  He was teeny and warm and wiggly and I had no idea what I was doing.  The nurse kept correcting the way I was holding him but it felt uncomfortable.  I laid him on my chest, like a little bean, and he went to sleep.

I promised him a million things at that moment, and I can’t tell you what.  I can’t remember the things I said to him, the quiet vows I made.  But I do remember that moment.

Since that day, 4 more perfect chubby babies have come into my life, each one just as fascinating and great as the next.

Unconditional love.  That’s what it’s about.

My 13 year old makes fun of me every second he gets a chance to.  He also tells me everything that is going on in his life.  Everything.  I know him better than I know myself.  And I’m grateful.

My 11 year old is charming, polite, intelligent, and dotes on his baby sisters.  He is emotional, and is sneaky when he gets a chance.  He doesn’t get anything by me, but he loves me for it.  And I’m grateful.

My 10 year old has a girlfriend who writes him lovey notes with little hearts all over them.  She’s on his soccer team.  They are each other’s biggest competition.  He tells me everything they talk about.  I know it won’t be this way when he’s 15.  He’s sweet, sarcastic, goofy, entertaining, and has limitless expressions.  Funny dances abide.  He makes me laugh until tears spring from my eyes and my tummy hurts.  And I’m grateful.

My daughters are beautiful and smart.  They are polite, well behaved, and spoiled absolutely rotten.  They write me love notes and sing me songs about how beautiful I am.  They remember that I’m 30, and they count down the days until my next birthday.  I cry big alligator tears after I drop them off.  Every time I drop them off.  They tell me that they love me more than any mom they’ve ever had.  And I’m grateful.

Every moment I have shared with my 5 fantastic children has brought me so much joy.  Whether we are hanging out in the living room not saying anything, or whether I am chewing them out for a naughty note sent home from school.  My heart bursts at the seams with love and pride at the young people they are becoming.

I AM the mommy.  Happy Mothers Day to the other mommies out there.  I love this job.

 

You Need Your Ass Beat…

I ripped the title of this post off from Tony Roberts, who is a kick ass comedian. Enjoy the festivities, as I am in one hell of a bitchy mood today. You would think that having returned from Vegas a short week and a half ago, that I would be still happy about that but NOOooOOoo.

I was driving the Divas home Sunday, traveling at about 78 miles per hour. 8 OVER the speed limit. Gosh, what a rebel. Here comes this Honda Civic out of no where, passes me on the right, missing the guy III was passing by inches, then he cuts off a motorcycle and a semi. You need your ass beat if you are seriously in that big of a fucking hurry. You’ll get where you’re going, I promise. The extra 45 seconds that you’re making up for by driving like a motherfucker are going to catch up with you one day.

I have freight vendors coming out of the woodwork, thanks in part to our new location opening. My current vendors are seeing a drop in business because I have entrusted all my truck moves to a broker who takes care of everything and finds me the best rates and transit times. You need your ass beat if the only reason you go visit your customers is because business is decreasing. You need your ass beat two or three times if you reduce your rates just because the ones you originally set are being beaten. You should have given the better rate to begin with, fucker.

I am helping Jen coach our kids’ soccer team. This means that every Monday evening we get to wrangle up 8 hyper, tired children. You need your ass beat if you sit on the sidelines at soccer practice and let your kid be a douche, and not do anything about it.

My house is trashed. I have, no lie, probably 16 loads of laundry to be washed. I still haven’t taken care of MY laundry from when I did it 2 weeks ago. I need to change my sheets. I need to do my dishes. I need to take my cans and change back to the store. III need my ass beat because I just can’t find the motivation to do it. I’m fucking tired. You need your ass beat if you give me a hard time about it. Why don’t you come work 60+ hours a week with no overtime compensation, and then deal with 3 boys who give a shit half the time, and then deal with rent going up, and deal with gas prices, and deal with increasing grocery prices… And THEN you can give me shit about my crumbs. Fucker.

My son is a week and a half into the new marking period and already has an F in Math. He claims he will make it up, but I don’t believe him and have scolded appropriately. No heads up from the teacher. Yes, she has lots of students, but this is becoming a horrible habit and every time I email her she’s like “Oh yeah… blah blah blah”. You need your ass beat if you are a teacher and let a pupil continuously fall through the cracks without offering tutoring or some sort of intervention with the parent.

All these ass beatings have me tired. This update has been brought to you by the letter F. As in Fuck You. Momma needs a cocktail.

 

Brain Fart

I like to steal things, and this is the latest and greatest… taken from the one and only Dirk Mancuso.  Enjoy.

HAVE YOU EVER…

1. Taken a picture completely naked?
I have…  Thank the gods they have since been destroyed!!

2. Made out with a friend from MySpace/Facebook?
Yes, I have.  And it’s not who you think it is, either.

3. Danced in front of your mirror naked?
Haha, maybe.

4. Told a lie?
Yeah, I totally have.  I’m not good at it anymore, but I used to be.

5. Had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back?
I think that’s the story of my life…

6. Been arrested?
Yes.  Never made it to general population, but I’ve been the holding cells more than once.

7. Made out with someone of the same sex?
Yes, silly girls.

8. Seen someone die?
No I haven’t… I don’t think I would be strong enough to endure something like that.

9. Slept in until 5 P.M.?
I wish!!.

10. Had sex at work?
I plead the 5th.

11. Fallen asleep at work/school?
YES - It sucks being pregnant for twins.

12. Held a snake?
Not held, but I touched it.

13. Ran a red light?
More times than I care to admit.

14. Been suspended from school?
No - I got detention once and cried for hours.

15. Wrecked your car in an accident?
No, thank the gods.

16. Pole danced?
Not professionally, but as a joke.

17. Smoked?
GROSS.

18. Been fired from a job?
Yes.  Very embarrassing.

19. Sang karaoke?
Every chance I get.

20. Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t?
Probably…

21. Laughed until a drink came out of your nose?
No, ouch!!!

22. Caught a snowflake on your tongue?
Is there anyone who hasn’t?

23. Kissed in the rain?
Absolutely.

24. Sang in the shower?
Every morning.

25. Given your private parts a nickname?
Yes, and I probably won’t tell you.

26. Ever gone out without underwear?
Of course…

27. Sat on a rooftop?
Yes.

28. Broken a bone?
(OMG DIRK!!)  Yes, I broke my ankle in high school.  That sucked.

29. Mooned/flashed someone?
Ahahaha, yes.

30. Shaved your head?
Hell no.

31. Slept naked?
Oh yes.

32. Played a prank on someone?
April Fool is my favorite day of the year.

33. Had a gym membership?
Yeah but I feel like a fat cow next to the scrawny bitches there, so I don’t go.  What a waste of money.

34. Felt like killing someone?
No. I’m actually about as non-violent as you can get. Plus, I couldn’t live with the guilt.

35. Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry?
No — they have to really care for you for you to have that much power.

36. Cried over someone you were in love with?

Probably.

37. Had sex more than 10 times in one day?
Close, but not 10.  It’s good to have goals, though.

38. Had Mexican Jumping Beans for pets?
Nope.

39. Been in a band?
No. I’m not cool.

40. Subscribed to Maxim?
I did, for Donald, but I ended up reading it more than him…

41. Taken more than 10 shots of alcohol?
Yes.

42. Shot a gun?
OH yes.

43. Had sex today?
NO.  Rub it in why don’t ya?

44. Played strip poker?
I have and I lost horribly.

45. Tripped on mushrooms?
Nope

46. Donated blood?
I tried, but I fainted in the process.

47. Video-taped yourself having sex?
OMG No!!!

48. Eaten alligator meat?

Not to my knowledge

49. Eaten frog legs?
See above.

50. Ever jump out of an airplane?
No!

51. Have you been to more than 10 countries?
Nope, I’m boring, eh?.

52. Ever wanted to have sex with a platonic friend?
Yes but the feeling usually passes pretty quickly…

 

Immortalized!

I’ve been immortalized by the fabulous Vegas Rex (See sidebar)…

Read all the horny details here: http://www.vegasrex.com/2008/04/22/how-to-get-permanently-banned-from-las-vegas/

Recap of the fantastic Vegas trip to come. I can’t wait to go back.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to clean out my suitcase… all the porn cards are intruding and I can’t find one of my socks.

 

Mountain Fiji

I’m going to Vegas in less than a fucking week and I have a zit on my chin the size of a volcano.  It’s one of those big bastards that the doctors tell you not to mess with.

I have dabbed with zit zapper, and pressed lightly on its sides.  It’s not even budging.  It hurts SO damn bad.  I hate that at 30 years old, my face has decided that I’m still 15.

I’m giving it 2 more days before I officially panic.

5 days, fuckers.  My suitcase is already packed, except for the cell phone charger and spare glasses.

I’m ready to get the hell out of here.

 

The Bitch Is Here…

Alright I promised a bitch post, here it is.

I feel odd making this type of post because there are a few really good bloggers out there who do this regularly, and they do it very WELL. Please know I’m not trying to rip them off. LOL

On with the show…

• I am so sick of hearing about dick medicine. There. I said it. The commercials are on all the damn time. They even play them on Cartoon Network. All the damn time. It’s either Enzyte or Cialis or Viva fucking Viagra.
• OH, and when it’s not dick medicine it’s Valtrex or Vagisil. Because you know, my kids need to know about Herpes and vagina itching in their young age. Well, they do now!!! Stupid advertisers.
• They (Food Network) fucked up the Iron Chef. Food Network took a Japanese classic that was already badass and great the way it was, and totally Westernized it complete with a “mixologist” who makes drinks to compliment the dishes. While I’m all about booze with dinner, I feel Food Network has missed the mark here. The Japanese Iron Chef was entertaining, and intriguing with the obscure secret ingredients. Halibut ice cream, live eels as secret ingredient, Morimoto hacking the shit out of abalones to make a soup bowl. You get what I’m saying, right? Hiroyuki Sakai is a genius, and I’m sad to see the original Iron Chefs forgotten in favor of semi-washed up chefs with their own quasi-chains of gourmet restaurants. Although I will say, Mario Batali is a damn cooking fool. I love him and his gaudy orange crocs. But don’t fuck with greatness, Food Network.
• People at my work are going to start handing their req’s into me in a timely matter or I will be refusing to process their stuff. I have decided this. I am through busting my ass and staying late, taking up my personal time, just because they don’t feel like adhering to company policy. Well, no more. If they don’t like it, fine, they can take it up with my foot.
• And really, I’m just pretty much over it all.  I’m tired of bills.  I’m tired of grocery lists.  I’m tired of my son bitching about tuna fish when he knows I’m giving it to him anyway.  I’m tired of work.  I’m tired of my dirty van.  I’m just TIRED of it.
• And guys - if you like a girl, TELL HER.  Don’t string her along.  Don’t hang out with her for “one” reason.  If you don’t like her, TELL HER.  Don’t string her along.  Don’t hang out with her for “one” thing.  Got it? OK.

I think that’s plenty for one day, I’m sure I’ll have more.

Book update - I’ve finished the first draft (Hooray!!).  It still needs hours and hours of additional work, but it’s ready for me to edit.  I couldn’t be happier.  At least for now.

8 days til Vegas, my head is going to explode.