Mom of the year

    Having stomach flu while caring for a small child is a special kind of hell. Bug got it first, then Gage and I got it at the same time a couple days later. Luckily I had some help, my In-Laws came and took Bug for a few hours so I could shit myself in peace. But I still managed to do 3 loads of laundry and get some basic groceries for the next couple days while the virus was still just starting to brew in my guts. I had to. I knew I'd be down for the count for 48 hrs and Husband turns into a dick when we're ill, so supplies and preparations had to happen before the river of vomit blew through the house. How is he a dick? I shall fill you in.      Husband hates it when we're sick, and the first time the flu went through the house he was actually MAD that we got it. Mad at us. Snapped at us for walking into the kitchen to get water, for sitting on the couch to watch TV, etc. For spreading our germs. He actually lectured me while I was miserable wit...

     Ahhh... the holidays are upon us. I love this shit. I love it when everyone has a day off at the same time so there's no excuse not to see each other, and we all eat the same gluttonous feast we've been eating for decades, we remember the fun we had in years past and we make new memories for the younger generation. No, really! There's no punch line, I really do love this shit!      This year I'm preparing to have the family over for a potluck Thanksgiving. It's a good thing too, because there hasn't been much work in the last month and the job we are on now might not pay until next month. We have no idea. The whole thing is kind of stressful because we have to fly Gage across the country to see his Dad for Xmas, and then we have to fly our new kid here with him on the way back. Things will work out, they always do. I'm surprisingly un-alarmed, actually. I must admit it does seem pointless to fly Gage back to California when he will probably...

     HELLO!!! Yes, I know I haven't written in over a month, and that really sucks, and I will get into the insanity of the reasons why soon enough. First though, I need to get a true story out of me, since one of my friends brought up asshole customers in retail and I was reminded of this little gem.      This particular story is one from my early strip club days, when I was a bartender. It was a fully nude club in California, which meant that there is no alcohol served there. Only soda, juice, coffee and O'Doul's, a non-alcoholic beer. That did not mean that dudes didn't come in drunk, because they usually did.      During this time I was a miserable person. My marriage was shit, my apartment was infested with roaches, I felt like an ugly, plain-Jane around all these glamorous looking hookers, and despite the fucking SILVER SUIT VEST and button down white collared shirt I was forced to wear, I was sexually harassed by old, ...

     My first born child, my only son, and a wonderful person was born 15 years ago this month. Gage was 21 inches long, and 7lbs, 4oz, the same weight his sister would be born at 13 years later. What a trip this birthday is for me! I mean, think about YOUR life 15 years ago! It was 1998. While I was still in the hospital after having him, I was watching President Clinton lie to America during his testimony about his relationship with Monica Lewinski. Gas was $1.06 a gallon. I had long, dyed black hair and Betty bangs. I was married to his father. It was a different time.      Gage is the light of my life, truly. He is empathetic and socially conscious. He has great taste in music. He's smart. He doesn't argue with me about chores or anything else. He is helpful and generous. We crack each other up. We like being together. He's disgusting and funny and I love it. He can tell me when I'm being an ass and I know he's being honest and can take him ...

     We play a game with Bug where we ask her, "Where is Mommy's nose?", "Where are Bug's hands?" and so on down the list of major body parts. We clap and give high fives when she gets them right, which is pretty much all the time. One of her favorite parts of the game is, "Where is your belly button, Bug?". She loves to lift up her shirt and show everybody the teeny little indent on her round, full of mac & cheese belly.  And then, just like if we had asked her about noses, or ears, she wants to find everybody else's belly button after she found her own. That's when I get a little nervous.      I don't want to show ANYBODY my belly button. Not my kids or my husband, and especially not anyone outside my immediate family. It is also round from too much mac & cheese, or beer, or from being pregnant at 35 and not trying hard enough to recover my pre-pregnancy weight, and I hate it. It makes me too nervous to wear certain shirts o...

     For a few days, Bug wasn't sleeping well, waking up every hour or two screaming or just calling out for attention. Nothing calmed her down enough to sleep for very long. Not rocking her, or singing, or even a bottle of milk. I just had to keep getting up and going to her, over and over, until I was mad with sleep deprivation and ready to throw her out a window. This went on for 3 days. The last day I was so fed up that I let her cry it out when she didn't want to nap. It worked, but that night she made me pay. She screamed so loud when she woke up that she woke up the whole house, calling for Daddy, and screeching like a pterodactyl. I tried to let her cry it out. That made it worse. So I went through the motions...Rocked her... Changed her... Fed her.... More screaming, and now Husband is trying to stop her. No luck. Finally I went into her room, asked her in my snottiest voice, "Oh do you want to get out and play?", and she said, "YES". Oh HELL no. ...

     Last week was PMS week, which just happened to fall on Gage's first week of homeschool and me finally getting accounting software and learning how to run the family business (both of which I have never done before), Bug's early intervention evaluation, and then her deciding to go back to two naps a day, with the last one lasting until dinnertime, which means she then stays up until 9:00pm. Ohmyfuckinggod. I barely remember it. I think it was too traumatic to retain the memory. What I DO know, is that I was so out of my mind that Friend noticed just from the tone of my FB messages, and apparently I was so bad that she had to suggest I drink more. Dude. Pour me another....      Everything is cool now though. Homeschool is going great so far, and I'm wondering why I never tried it before. It seriously eliminates all of the problems I had with Gage's previous educational issues. He HAS TO be accountable. There is no hiding in the back of the cl...

     Today was fucking nuts. I have experienced so many different emotions, but due to the PMS that has developed after this last kid, most of it has been a roller coaster of crazy. You know when everything you try to do just doesn't work out right? That's my day. But to my surprise I handled it all with relative grace. Until I got to Walmart. DUN DUN DUN....Walmart.      I go to the ghetto-est Walmart because it's the closest to me. I don't give a shit if it's dirty or the patrons barely got dressed to go there, as long as I don't have to drive too far. I used to care about that shit. But now my life is run by this toddler's nap and meal schedule, so my time for shopping and driving is limited. Convenience is key.      The back-story is: Our month was all tight and planned out as far as moneys go. And then some unexpected shit came up, as it often does but I apparently forgot. Specialized tools had to be purchased to finish j...

"I feel sorry for women who say that being a mother was their life long goal. Like, isn't there anything else you'd like to accomplish? Travel to Italy? Get an education and a career that brings you satisfaction? Learn another language?"      This post in a Mommy forum set me off this morning. Sigh....I probably already covered this, but WHAT'S WRONG WITH MOTHERHOOD BEING A LIFE LONG GOAL?????? Please sit your feminist ass down and listen for a minute. Being a good Mother is not a "less than" endeavor. Choosing Motherhood does not mean you're too stupid to do something else. Wanting to be good at it, and striving for it, is honorable. Dreaming about being a Mommy when you're just a little girl is as normal as dreaming about being a doctor when you grow up, or a chef, or a truck driver, or anything else! STOP attributing the role of Motherhood to the brainwashed fundamentalist cultures, because those are not the only women who's greatest goa...

     I've been thinking about humor and how some people prefer it to be mild, and others prefer it to be dark. Some people easily laugh at themselves, and others get bent out of shape at the slightest jab someone takes at them, even in jest. I wonder how that happens? I know that for Gage, he grew up in a very sarcastic group of people with a dark sense of humor, and now he's the same way. I assume that he learned it from us. Does that mean that people who only like puns and knock-knock jokes grew up with really sweet, polite and mild people? I ask because I have this sweet baby girl who is a little sponge, soaking up every little thing around her. I wonder what she's getting from all of this. She's started to do this little thing when she's doing something she shouldn't, like while she's pouring milk on the floor she'll turn her head away, but squint her eyes and look toward us, as if she's trying to trick us into not seeing her. Because if she can...

     Out of nowhere Husband said he was planning a date for us, he had arranged for an ALL DAY sitter, and it was all a surprise. WHAT??? The reason? Because "You need to get out. You deserve it." Uh, okay! I feel weird about the "deserve it" part, because nobody deserves anything, really. You get what you earn, but mostly in life you just get what you get. But if Husband thinks I am so awesome that I deserve a day of fun and rest, I shall not argue. ;)      First he took me to get a tattoo I had meant to get before our wedding but never got around to. Our last name on my arm, to match the tattoo he has on the same arm. And then...oh wait I have to get into that. Hahaha. SO. Our wedding tattoos were done by one of my very best friends back in California. I LOVE this chick. Our wedding tattoos. Our "rings"      We have been through roller derby, two divorces, reproductive nightmares, breakups, deaths, babies, politi...

     I love Charles Bukowski for so many reasons. He is... a reluctant anti-hero for the common man. He turns ugly into poetic. Literally. Oh but his words are so truthful. So honest and wise and beautifully packaged in a mess. He is never embarrassed. He sometimes wants you to hate him. Once I start reading his words I can't stop. He was a drunk, and some have called him a womanizer, but when you actually read his stuff, you realize he is a true romantic, but one who has been disillusioned and sold out so many times that he became hardened. In any case, he is hyper-aware, sometimes to his own detriment. He reminds me of Husband on an intellectual level, minus the whores. Well okay...ONE whore. That's good numbers though. For those who don't know, here is Wikipedia 's description of him: Henry Charles Bukowski (born Heinrich Karl Bukowski ; August 16, 1920 – March 9, 1994) was a German-born American poet, novelist and short story writer. His writing was inf...