Sunday, January 17, 2010

Guess what? I'm not dead.

At least I don't think I'm dead. Hang on. Let me check.

*feels self up*

Nope. I found a pulse.

I made another blog today. It's all secret and stuff, though. Sometimes I think that I have so many blogs, in so many places, that I just can't keep track of them all. I haven't been writing on any of them lately, though. There really isn't a huge reason for my absence, except that life has been a suckfest (great word, right?) lately and I didn't feel like sharing that suckfest with anybody. It's better just to ignore it and pretend that life is great instead.

Denial is a wonderful thing, isn't it?

Things are the same as always, though. Kids are growing and driving me insane. The teenagers now have "significant others" which sometimes makes my life easier and sometimes makes it a bigger pain in the ass. It also makes me realize that they're growing up much quicker than I told them they could, and I think they deserve to be grounded for that.

Boogie is in school all day now. In the beginning, it was very weird. I realized that I've had at least one kid home with me for the last 17 years. So now I get to do things like sleep in, spend the afternoon writing, hear the voices in my head (I really missed them) and dance around naked in my living room....with the blinds closed, of course.

We moved last month. Nothing fantastical or anything. Just into an apartment by the kids' elementary school, like I've been telling them we'd do for the last 7 years. What that means to me is, I get to have a slew of kids in and out of my house all evening and weekend. Fun, right?

I've learned to love my bedroom.

I'll try to write more here, I suppose. We'll see how that goes. I have a tendency to be a blog camel. You a sex camel. Don't know what a sex camel is? It's what I used to call my friend Val's husband because he hardly ever wanted to have sex. I'd say he was like a camel. He'd store it up for a month or so, then he'd need it again to store it up and so on. Get the idea? Well, I realized I've been a blog camel for the last 7 years or so. I'll write every single day (sometimes two or three times a day) for a week or two, and then I won't write at all for a couple of months. It's ok, though. I'm just storing it all up in my head so it can come eventually come spouting out.

Ok. I'm hungry. But too lazy to go find something to eat. I think I'll go take a nap instead.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Squish, squish

There's a reason I don't walk around my house naked. It's the same reason that I change my clothes as quickly as possible, with no mirrors in sight. I sure as hell don't wanna see me naked. Hard to believe anybody else does, but then, I always knew Wren was slightly crazy. Why do you think I started dating him? It takes crazy to handle living with me and my brood.

But, you know, I put my foot down when it comes to bathing and sex. Those are things that just require nudity. Also, golf lessons and driving to the gun range, but we won't go there.

Tonight I laid in my bed afterward, disgustedly analyzing my naked flesh. I really felt the need to complain about what I saw, but I get no satisfaction when I bitch at Wren. Even when I took his hand and pushed his finger repeatedly down on my stomach saying "squish! squish! squish!" he just laughed and told me I'm a goober. Rude, right? I believe only another woman could truly understand my anguish.

So I'm writing this letter to my body. Does that mean you shouldn't read it since you're not my body? Nah, go ahead. My body and I have no secrets.

Dear Body,

What the fuck is wrong with you?! Ahem...I mean, hi, how are you doing? I apologize for interrupting your lovely evening and I am truly sorry I had to stop stuffing cheddar and sour cream potato chips (your favorite) inside of you long enough to write this letter. But your recent conduct must be addressed.

I realize that we just celebrated our 34th birthday, but that's really no reason for you to throw in the towel and give up. I certainly haven't. I mean, come on. What's with the run-away boobs? Boobs are supposed to be cute and perky, or haven't you heard that? When I lay flat on my back, they shouldn't try to run away into my armpits. Get some damn control over them before I call the boob-catcher to come in and wrestle them back into place. And nevermind Wren's whole "boobs don't sit upright like that without silicone." What does HE know? He's not the one laying here with nipples who surely must have had a fight because they're trying to get as far away from each other as they can.

And yeah, he doesn't understand the problems with the squishy tummy. Why is it that when HE gains belly fat, it's all hard and firm so that when he lays flat it could almost appear to be a firm, toned stomach, but the fat around OUR middle is all soft and squishy like a big old girdle made of marshmallow? Really Body. You can do better than that, can't you? You're not made out of JELLO for God's sake.

But I think the worst of it, really, is the stretch marks on the top of our thighs. Where the hell did you even GET those from? The stretch marks on our stomach I can understand. I mean, those 6 kids sleeping downstairs are clear evidence of those tummy stretch marks. But last time I checked babies were carried in the ABDOMEN, not in the THIGHS. I sure as hell don't remember getting kicked in the femur when we were pregnant, do you? No, I'm pretty sure that was the bladder and kidneys, which are in our STOMACH, not our legs. Did the stretch marks migrate when I wasn't looking? Do we have run-away stretch marks too? Did they just slide down and take up residence there? Am I going to wake up tomorrow with them on my kneecaps?

I'm sorry to be so abrupt about this, Body, but I'm a little bit fed up. How about we make a deal? I promise to continue to provide you with your Mountain Dew, Hostess cupcakes and Cheetos, if you promise to make some effort to pull yourself together. Just a little effort. Please?

Are my pleas falling on deaf ears? Are you currently laughing at my desperate attempts to bribe you into submission? Fine. How about a threat then?

Get yourself in shape soon or I'll FORCE you to get in shape and trust me, neither one of us wants that.

No? How about blackmail then? Ummm...oh! If you don't do as I ask, I'll distribute photos of your flaws all over the internet and...oh wait. Nevermind. I don't want that either.

Fine. Whatever. Hand me the freaking bag of chips.

Forever (unfortunately) yours,

Tuesday, May 26, 2009


In this house, you don't leave yourself open. It's much like being a boxer really. If you let your guard down you're bound to get hit.

I'm not talking about physical blows, although Boogie does have a mean right hook. No, I'm talking about those little mental slaps we all give each other. In the name of fun, of course. One of the things I love about my kids (trust me, there really are a lot of things) is that they're all smart-asses and we all give each other shit all the time.

Wren takes the brunt of a lot of it, though. I tried to tell him last night, it's his own fault. He leaves himself open ALL the time. Like the other day at the park when we were hanging out with all of his friends and two of them started wrestling. Wren said "Why does this remind me of gay porn?" My response? "Because you watch too much of it."

He left himself open. Set himself up for the blow.

Another example of the conversations in our house? Well, last night I was sitting at the table sewing. Katie and Hunter were watching me, much like they watch the television at the end of the day. Somehow I had become their entertainment. Wren was in the kitchen behind me making us all scrambled eggs and toast for dinner. Mikaela went in there and was being weird. Here's how the conversation went:

Wren: You're just like your mother.
Mikaela: You're just like your mother.
Katie: You're not like your mother, Wren. Your mom is NICE!
Wren, glaring at Katie: Eat shit!
Me (continuing to pin fabric): She's about to.

Wren said for that statement, I didn't get any eggs. We were all too busy laughing to pay him much attention, though. And I told him, if he keeps leaving himself open he's going to keep getting knocked out.

Oh, and don't worry. I got eggs. And they didn't taste like shit either.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Throwback the Mountain Dew

Recently Pepsi decided to release "throwbacks". I guess they're supposed to be the old versions of our favorite soft drinks. All I know is, one day I found myself driving around town without my standard Mountain Dew bottle beside me. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't go anywhere without my best friend, dressed in all of its green glory. But see, I had driven my car to the car lot so they could replace the O2 censor and I left my pop in there while we ran around town in the van.

So I stopped at a gas station and sent Wren in to grab me a Dew. He carried it out and I quickly opened it and guzzled, sure I was dying of thirst since it had been a whole 20 minutes since I last tasted that citrusy yumminess. It was cold. It was wet. And it was all fine. Until I swallowed. Then I frantically searched the floor of the van for something sharp I could use to scrape the taste buds off of my tongue.

If you haven't tasted Pepsi's new Mountain Dew "throwback", don't. Just don't. It's disgusting. They say it's made with natural sugars. Tastes like Splenda to me, and let me tell you there is NOTHING natural about sugar-free sugar. That's like chocolate-free chocolate or a blue orange. Or like Carrot Top dying his hair black. Come on. That's just plain unnatural.

Seriously. If you ever find yourself with a "throwback", do what the bottle suggests. And if Wren ever buys me another one (because he's bought me at least 4 of them in the last week) (because he's a guy and doesn't look at the bottle) ("it's green" he says "that's all I noticed"), then he may find HIMSELF being thrown back. And if Pepsi continues producing this disgusting product and trying to disguise it as a "return to your youth" I may just have to track down the genuises who came up with this marketing scheme and forcefeed them sugar-free sugar, chocolate-free chocolate, blue oranges, AND Carrot Top.

Ok, I think I'm done bitching now.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

What I want for my birthday

1. Sex. It's always at the top of my list.

2. Cake. Can't remember the last time I had a cake for my birthday. Well, unless you count the pretend birthday that Boogie gave me a few months ago.

3. A clean house. And let me add, that I'd like to NOT have to be the one to clean it. I probably will be, though.

4. Bacon. Sausage. Hash browns with cheese. Mmmm....I'm hungry.

5. Laughter. It's always good.

I want to say something like, "to be surrounded by family and friends" because that's always a great way to spend a birthday. The only reason I'm not adding it as #6 is because, well, I'm ALWAYS surrounded by family. In a house of 8 people, it's hard not to be elbow to elbow with somebody. But I'm also not adding it because it's not just something I WANT, it's something I'm GETTING. I invited a couple of people over for dinner. Just found out a couple more are gonna be showing up. They wanted to surprise me but decided that might put a kink in any plans we had, so I've been instructed to act surprised.

Last weekend was rough for me. But this whole week I've been reminded how lucky I am to have people in my life who care about me. I'm pretty damn thankful for all of them. Today is just another day for most people. For me, it's not only my 34th....I mean, 21st birthday. It's also my Thanksgiving and my New Year's Day.


Friday, May 8, 2009

She's gonna run the world some day

I now know why children look so innocent when they're sleeping.


It's so we forget about the hell they put us through when they're awake.

It's the same reason they say cute things that make us laugh. Like Boogie telling us today that her nose was "just a little bit slobbery" when Wren said it was stuffy. Or in the midst of her 5 straight hours crying and carrying on, just when we ALL (including the other kids) were seriously considering cutting our ears off so we wouldn't have to listen to it anymore, she suddenly said in her best drama queen voice "I just can't take it anymore!"

I can't stand over-tired, cranky kids. Especially when they're so dramatic all the time. It makes it hard to tell if there's something REALLY wrong or if they're just practicing for their Broadway debut.

Tonight, for the first time ever, Wren burned dinner. He was making gravy and he actually ended up scorching it so the whole batch tasted burnt and he had to toss it and start over from scratch. Tonight, for the first time ever, I realized that Hunter may not be my biggest challenge. Tonight, every single person in this house was tense and on edge and would have loved to pack a bag and run away even if it meant sleeping under a bridge and eating canned beans for the next 20 years. Tonight, I sat in my bedroom in tears wondering what the hell happened to my life.

It's hard to believe a 5 year old can cause so much stress. I've lived through 2 kids with colic, one of them being said 5 year old who also had acid reflux as a baby. She didn't spit up or anything. No, it sat in her esophagus and BURNED so she ended up on 2 different medications that only helped shorten the crying time by maybe an hour a day. So, you know, instead of listening to her cry for 16 hours, we only had to hear it for 15 hours.

I've been through a dog bite on the face of my 4 year old that required over 20 stitches. I've been through a 2 year old who repeatedly bashed his head into things so that he had a permanent bruise on his forehead, and a doctor who said "Oh, it's no big deal. If he knocks himself out, just make an appointment and we'll fit him for a helmet." Hello? If my 2 year old ends up unconscious I'm not going to calmly call and make a doctor's appointment. I've rushed my 10 month old to the hospital because he had a 106.5 degree fever, brought my 8 year old to the ER to get his head sewn up because he bashed it on a toy when he didn't want to do his homework, almost had to call the fire department when my 3 year old got his hand stuck under his bedroom door, had to bring my 6 year old to the emergency room when his sister tried to cut his thumb off with a pair of kitchen shears, which they glued back together, which meant I had to bring him back again when the glue didn't hold. (Sadly, most of these things happened with Hunter.) On a daily basis, for the last 16 years, I've refereed and broken up fights, administered advice, dried up tears, mopped up flooded bathrooms, swept up broken dishes, kissed and bandaged owies, brushed knots out of hair, cleaned butter off of walls, spaghetti sauce off of ceilings and gum out of carpets. I've tracked down shoes, fixed broken toys, sewn new clothes, baked cakes and cookies and brownies, made Halloween costumes, placed paintings on the refrigerator, hung paper snowflakes from the ceiling, and held wet wash cloths on temporary tattoos until my fingers looked like prunes.

Despite all of this, all it took tonight was one 5 year old to break it all down and make me feel like a helpless parent who has no idea what she's doing raising kids.

Man, that child has some power.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

I guess I'll just stick to driving it

For a few years now, I've known I needed to get a small car. That need has become more apparent now with my kids being older and capable of staying home on their own. The majority of the time, it's only me and Wren in the car, and maybe a kid or two. It seems silly driving a mini-van around for only two or three people.

So in February, I paid off the van and I was planning to put a down payment on a car. But something held me back. I wasn't excited about the idea and I wanted to revel in having no car payment for awhile.

So April came around and school started back up and I figured I should probably set some money aside for a down payment on a car. I sat here for a month with that money in a box by my bed, in no big hurry to get a new car.

Until last Sunday when my ex showed up with his new car. Well, not NEW, but it was a CONVERTIBLE. I was annoyed. And jealous. He knows how much I've always wanted a convertible, and he never really cared about getting one. Not to mention, he was supposed to be keeping an eye out for a car for ME and instead he got it for himself.

It made me realize that for the first time in my life, I could go find a FUN car. Not a car that would seat more children. I already have the practical car. So off me and Wren went to the car lot on Tuesday and I bought my car. You know you love it:


Ok, maybe YOU don't love it because it's not yours. And yes, yes, I know it's not a convertible. But it's a t-top, which is better in many ways. Less wind to deal with. In the past, I'd look at a car like that and think "Yeah, it's a nice car." It's different when it belongs to you, though. All day I keep looking out the back window and admiring it. I told Wren I'm just so shocked that I have a car like that. So then he begins telling everybody on WoW that I'm surprised to have such a nice car, and I looked at him in shock. How dare he? He was ruining my illusion of glamour!!

How can I be this glamourous woman who drives a purple Firebird if he's walking around telling people how surprised I am that I own it? I mean, come on. I can't walk around with my head in the air and pretend it's normal for me to have a sleek, sporty car if everybody is whispering "That car is SO not her and she knows it!" behind my back.

But I admit it. I'm in love with my car. I'd totally have sex with it if I could. In fact, I'm thinking about turning those photos into posters that I can hang on my ceiling so I can masterbate to my car every night. Hell, I even had to go outside and do the sexy poses:


That would probably be MUCH more effective if I got somebody sexy to pose for them, huh? lol

Oh well. I love my car! I love my car! I love my car!