My husband is a contractor- Namely on helicopters.
So I get a phone call today, and due to the grace of one of the branches of the military, the production line is through 2021. It was supposed to end here in the next two years or something with the Army helicopters they were doing.
"YAY! for job security.", she exclaims sarcastically, while she wishes she had something to mix with the vodka in the freezer.
Now, I do realize that in the current economic climate, I probably shouldn't be complaining that he's got a job for the next 10 years, unless he kills someone. Right? I know I've said that I imagined staying in Ohio... But being a military wife changed my fabric. It made me crave the nomadic life style we had. Now, shut up those of you who know that we never really left Clarksville, because when he left, I came and went as I pleased- Because up until he actually came home in September, I never really thought he was getting out. I thought he was going to be a lifer. I thought that we'd move every few years and I'd see a bit of the world. I thought he'd get out after his 20, at 39, and we'd then settle someplace that I may or may not hate and get G and L (Because that's all we had at the time), into college.
Instead, we settled someplace that I fucking hate. A place I don't understand. A place that, in all honesty, is to close to my parents. A place that my children are picking up a southern accent. A place that seems to have sucked me in and gives me such cabin fever every Spring and Fall that my skin feels like it is going to crawl off my body. A place that has such HUGE problems and absolute refuses to address them...
And the thought of spending the next 10 years of my life in this city makes me want to vomit.
Can/Should a city make you physically ill?
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Twenty Two:
Sometimes I wonder why the hell I ever had another kid. Two wasn't enough? I needed another screaming asshole to complete my life? Someone to throw orange slices at me, screaming, "That's MY NA-NA (His pacifier)", while using me as his own personalTreadClimber- That is until he reaches the top and can't figure out how to get down. That's when I get a fist/foot/knee in the eye. BUTTTTT, make the mistake of taking him down and we will repeat the cycle again and again and again until I need a shot of Vodka.
Having two that were already potty trained, could make their own lunch, could read wasn't enough... No, I had to have another snuggly bundle of hell that refuses to sleep through the night at 14 months. Allah forbid we with hold that bottle at 2am- Cause if S ain't happy, no one is fucking sleeping.
There are days I wish there was a store that babies actually came from, so I could return him. Mainly, these are the days that start off cute- With him waking me up by screaming, "HEY!!!!" from his crib, and end with mommy in tears, S laughing, G and L locked in their bedroom because they had no idea that this little terror could wreak so much havoc on their lives... And somewhere in the middle of that day there are events like poop in my hair, 30 minutes of playing "Goddamn it, quit hitting print screen! No one needs to see that!", "It's great that you finally learned to pull up, but could you not pull the baby gate down on your head again", "Yummies? You want yummies?" and then Yummies end up everywhere but his mouth, "That's my phone. Not your ball. Let me give you a ball. S, stop pocket dialing Jessica. Seriously child.".
And I know I'm not the only one who feels this way at least once a week. I know I'm not the only one who has days like this with your children... Especially if you have more than one. Once you've gotten one past the milestones that drove you fucking nuts, there comes the next ankle biter to annoy the crap out of you with shit his sibling has never done. It's amazing that we're all not a bunch of bitter alcoholics, honestly.
Recently, I attended a funeral back in Dayton for my Great Aunt. There was some family there that I'd not seen in probably 15 years. Not exactly sure how they are related to me, but close in age and related close enough that it would NOT be socially acceptable to sleep with them unless we were in an Arab country. Everyone was interested in S and my niece P, as well as G and L (But they are older and not as cute)... And we got around to talking about how generally well behaved my kids are.
Now as a mother to a childless couple, there seems to be some need to try to convince them to procreate- Because it's the greatest thing you'll ever do with your life or trying to validate your choices through other people. Look at me. I don't work. I'm a stay home mom. My boys should be the end all be all of my life. Here's the real secret. My life does not revolve around my children. I take care of them. I indulge them. I teach them the things they need to know to be compassionate accepting adults in today's society. I make sure they know they are loved and I would do anything for them, up to and including maim/murder someone for them. But they are not my reason for being. Often I wonder how things for me/me and Dave would have turned out differently if I'd not had G at 19 and L at 21... (Not that I'd give them up for anything, except that little one. I'd like to furlough him at the baby store from time to time.)
But I still found it VERY hard to keep my fucking Collective Mom Mouth (Forever known as the CMM) from saying, "Oh, having kids is the greatest thing I've ever done. It's so fulfilling." What the fuck is wrong with me???
Dude, after the two weeks I've had, tonight's episode of So You Think You Can Dance was the most fulfilling thing in my life.
Having two that were already potty trained, could make their own lunch, could read wasn't enough... No, I had to have another snuggly bundle of hell that refuses to sleep through the night at 14 months. Allah forbid we with hold that bottle at 2am- Cause if S ain't happy, no one is fucking sleeping.
There are days I wish there was a store that babies actually came from, so I could return him. Mainly, these are the days that start off cute- With him waking me up by screaming, "HEY!!!!" from his crib, and end with mommy in tears, S laughing, G and L locked in their bedroom because they had no idea that this little terror could wreak so much havoc on their lives... And somewhere in the middle of that day there are events like poop in my hair, 30 minutes of playing "Goddamn it, quit hitting print screen! No one needs to see that!", "It's great that you finally learned to pull up, but could you not pull the baby gate down on your head again", "Yummies? You want yummies?" and then Yummies end up everywhere but his mouth, "That's my phone. Not your ball. Let me give you a ball. S, stop pocket dialing Jessica. Seriously child.".
And I know I'm not the only one who feels this way at least once a week. I know I'm not the only one who has days like this with your children... Especially if you have more than one. Once you've gotten one past the milestones that drove you fucking nuts, there comes the next ankle biter to annoy the crap out of you with shit his sibling has never done. It's amazing that we're all not a bunch of bitter alcoholics, honestly.
Recently, I attended a funeral back in Dayton for my Great Aunt. There was some family there that I'd not seen in probably 15 years. Not exactly sure how they are related to me, but close in age and related close enough that it would NOT be socially acceptable to sleep with them unless we were in an Arab country. Everyone was interested in S and my niece P, as well as G and L (But they are older and not as cute)... And we got around to talking about how generally well behaved my kids are.
Now as a mother to a childless couple, there seems to be some need to try to convince them to procreate- Because it's the greatest thing you'll ever do with your life or trying to validate your choices through other people. Look at me. I don't work. I'm a stay home mom. My boys should be the end all be all of my life. Here's the real secret. My life does not revolve around my children. I take care of them. I indulge them. I teach them the things they need to know to be compassionate accepting adults in today's society. I make sure they know they are loved and I would do anything for them, up to and including maim/murder someone for them. But they are not my reason for being. Often I wonder how things for me/me and Dave would have turned out differently if I'd not had G at 19 and L at 21... (Not that I'd give them up for anything, except that little one. I'd like to furlough him at the baby store from time to time.)
But I still found it VERY hard to keep my fucking Collective Mom Mouth (Forever known as the CMM) from saying, "Oh, having kids is the greatest thing I've ever done. It's so fulfilling." What the fuck is wrong with me???
Dude, after the two weeks I've had, tonight's episode of So You Think You Can Dance was the most fulfilling thing in my life.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Twenty One:
It's summer... And you all know what that means for Nichole...
A couple of things actually. 1) The extreme NEED to get the hell out of Kentucky and move to someplace with a beach. 2) The goal of NOT killing my children on a daily basis. 3) Avoiding sunburn at all costs.
It's not that I don't like Kentucky. It's that I hate Kentucky. I really do. I hate it more than I hate peas and creamed corn combined. I hate it more than I hate the word moist. I hate it more than hearing S grind his little chompers together. I hate it.
Would I hate it anywhere? I really don't know. I've lived in a few cities in my life- Dayton, Toledo, the Ft. Campbell, Ky area, and then here in Lexington. I've spent excessive amounts of time in southern Arizona. I would never move back to Dayton- As we covered in the last post, it's to close to my family. Toledo was just a bump in the road, Clarksville TN was a military town, but a place we might end up again because of Dave's career... And after living here, I don't think I'd mind it so much... Or as much as I did.
There's something about Lexington that just makes me want to vomit on a daily basis. It might be the constant smell of horse ass. It might be UK's need to let EVERYONE know how great they are when really it's just Shut The Fuck Up, No You Don't Need A New Arena To Keep Up With Louisville, World Leader In Cancer Researcher My Ass. It might be the entitlement that almost everyone around here seems to have because this place is Oh. So. Great. It might be the fact that no matter how hard I try, I keep ending up with bat shit crazy "Friends" and I want to be a recluse. (I love you guys! LOL)
Or it might just be that when I was growing up, at 28, I never imagined myself living in Lexington fucking Kentucky.
And that might be the basis of it all... I have no issues with being 28, married for 10 years with 3 kids, some college, 9/10ths of a high school diploma, no career, few marketable skills other than teaching a 6 year old "That's what she said" jokes or finding awesome ass deals on diapers. (2 weeks ago- 4 packs of Huggies for 3 bucks each after rewards and coupons. WHAT.) It might just be the broken dream of not living where I imagined living. Thinking back, I probably imagined that I'd be living in the same town I went to school, near my parents and maybe my parents would have changed once I had kids- Which I've just now realized that it's never going to happen.
But why, when I see commercials for 'The Glades' or reruns of 'The Golden Girls' does it make me want to jump out of my skin? Why did leaving Clearwater Beach after only 2 days feel like I was leaving a child behind? Why do I get like this every summer- Until October rolls around and I realize I might miss that changing season and the snow?
Is it possible that only one aspect of your "childhood dreams" of what your life would be like when you became an adult can make you have physical symptoms- Even when, pressed to admit it, you're still waiting to feel like the adult in a situation?
Oh the things I ponder at 11 at night. I think it's time for a Valium. lol
A couple of things actually. 1) The extreme NEED to get the hell out of Kentucky and move to someplace with a beach. 2) The goal of NOT killing my children on a daily basis. 3) Avoiding sunburn at all costs.
It's not that I don't like Kentucky. It's that I hate Kentucky. I really do. I hate it more than I hate peas and creamed corn combined. I hate it more than I hate the word moist. I hate it more than hearing S grind his little chompers together. I hate it.
Would I hate it anywhere? I really don't know. I've lived in a few cities in my life- Dayton, Toledo, the Ft. Campbell, Ky area, and then here in Lexington. I've spent excessive amounts of time in southern Arizona. I would never move back to Dayton- As we covered in the last post, it's to close to my family. Toledo was just a bump in the road, Clarksville TN was a military town, but a place we might end up again because of Dave's career... And after living here, I don't think I'd mind it so much... Or as much as I did.
There's something about Lexington that just makes me want to vomit on a daily basis. It might be the constant smell of horse ass. It might be UK's need to let EVERYONE know how great they are when really it's just Shut The Fuck Up, No You Don't Need A New Arena To Keep Up With Louisville, World Leader In Cancer Researcher My Ass. It might be the entitlement that almost everyone around here seems to have because this place is Oh. So. Great. It might be the fact that no matter how hard I try, I keep ending up with bat shit crazy "Friends" and I want to be a recluse. (I love you guys! LOL)
Or it might just be that when I was growing up, at 28, I never imagined myself living in Lexington fucking Kentucky.
And that might be the basis of it all... I have no issues with being 28, married for 10 years with 3 kids, some college, 9/10ths of a high school diploma, no career, few marketable skills other than teaching a 6 year old "That's what she said" jokes or finding awesome ass deals on diapers. (2 weeks ago- 4 packs of Huggies for 3 bucks each after rewards and coupons. WHAT.) It might just be the broken dream of not living where I imagined living. Thinking back, I probably imagined that I'd be living in the same town I went to school, near my parents and maybe my parents would have changed once I had kids- Which I've just now realized that it's never going to happen.
But why, when I see commercials for 'The Glades' or reruns of 'The Golden Girls' does it make me want to jump out of my skin? Why did leaving Clearwater Beach after only 2 days feel like I was leaving a child behind? Why do I get like this every summer- Until October rolls around and I realize I might miss that changing season and the snow?
Is it possible that only one aspect of your "childhood dreams" of what your life would be like when you became an adult can make you have physical symptoms- Even when, pressed to admit it, you're still waiting to feel like the adult in a situation?
Oh the things I ponder at 11 at night. I think it's time for a Valium. lol
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Twenty:
Explain something to me... And I'm sorry if none of this makes sense. I hope someday it will.
Well, first, let me explain something to you- Dave hates my parents. Not with an all consuming seething passion- We just spent 10 days with them in Florida... But he hates them with this under-bubbling wrath that makes him lash out internally or at me when they surface those feelings he has towards them. He's tired of my father's advice- "Why should I take your advice when you couldn't stop your wife from abusing your daughter"... And he's strait up tired of my mother's bullshit, emotional roller coaster drama she tries to put me on.
I didn't have it great growing up. I was the oldest of 4, with an undiagnosed bipolar mother, a disconnected father, and I took the brunt of my mother because I was the one who was there- Emotionally and physically. I was kicked out at 18, didn't graduate high school because of it, and that's how my life with Dave began. The entire time that I was dating Dave under her roof, my mother swore that Dave would never make anything of himself, never be able to support a family a family, tried to get him arrested, in trouble with the military and fired from a job. (Yeah. I know.) But, honestly, if you met my mother on the street, or at say one of my kid's birthday parties, you'd like her. She's not socially inappropriate in an obvious way.
So- We're in Florida, a trip that Dave and I didn't want to go on due to all the drama with my family leading up to it. (Call me about 100 bucks I borrowed two years ago while you're in the process of buying a house for one of my brothers? Seriously?) But the kids wouldn't go without us, and they really wanted to go-
And while we're down there, the advice from my father starts, and the didacticness of my mother's personality comes out- And she's constantly swinging from my brother's girlfriend to me with who's her new BFF that day... As my mother doesn't see me as a daughter or a family member anymore, and hasn't for 10 years. She sees me as someone that she has to have in her life because my spawn are her grandkids, and I swear to DEITY that sometimes she forgets WHY my spawn are her grandkids. But I digress.
And the comments about how we're overspending our money begin and how they (She) isn't paying for anything extra for us and we're on our own if we run out of money (Mainly because she felt we were eating out to much because we didn't want to eat out of a cooler in the Universal Studios parking lot with them)... And the financial planning advice starts from my father- Again, the man who just bought one of my brothers a home because he couldn't afford his rent. And then the "We'll meet you at X in Y minutes", and 2 hours later no one has shown up- Or the "You have to be out of the hotel room at 11, sorry, we know you wanted to go swimming with the kids again" but what I'm not going to walk down the hotel room hallway to tell you is that I paid 30 bucks for a late check out for one room that you could have taken a shower in and played with them on the beach for a bit longer.
Dave's seething at various points of the vacation. And, with all my issues with my family and my brother's whore, I felt that I handled most things very well- There wasn't much that was going to interfere with my children's enjoyment of Shamu or their 10th time riding Spiderman... Or their first time on a real beach and S just being S.
But after all the hell that we went through- Most of it I can't remember now that I've run it down with my therapist, all the fighting Dave and I did over my parents, and the agreement that we came to about the next when it comes to my family, after my 84 year old Grandparents leave in July... We decided we're done with my family. We're done with the judgement about how we live our lives. We're done with the assumption that because Dave makes above the 50k mark (Barely) that we should be better off financially than we are. (Have you ever been a gov't contractor, Dad? No? Shut the fuck up, then.) We're tired of the comments that we're to hard on our kids because we expect certain behaviors out of them and don't tolerate others, vacation or not. (At least I don't back hand mine every time one of them says something that I don't like, Mom.) I'm tired of S being thrown into the Olympics against his cousin that is 10 months older than him... Well, assholes, let's put her in the Olympics (If you don't know, then ask another mom. Fuck.) against my kids when they were about to turn 2. I can't help it if you don't remember how smart G and L were at that age- But do not give me shit that she was walking at 10 months and S refuses to crawl at a year.
I'm just tired of, still, after Dave and I being married for 10 years, after getting kicked out of the house and the family 10 years ago and trying to get back in various times over the years, that none of what I've done with my kids or that Dave is good enough for them yet. I'm not good enough for them. The way I choose to live my life... Where we choose to live... None of it is good enough...
So, explain it to me, please- Because that's my next row in my head. How do go go about writing out your family?
Well, first, let me explain something to you- Dave hates my parents. Not with an all consuming seething passion- We just spent 10 days with them in Florida... But he hates them with this under-bubbling wrath that makes him lash out internally or at me when they surface those feelings he has towards them. He's tired of my father's advice- "Why should I take your advice when you couldn't stop your wife from abusing your daughter"... And he's strait up tired of my mother's bullshit, emotional roller coaster drama she tries to put me on.
I didn't have it great growing up. I was the oldest of 4, with an undiagnosed bipolar mother, a disconnected father, and I took the brunt of my mother because I was the one who was there- Emotionally and physically. I was kicked out at 18, didn't graduate high school because of it, and that's how my life with Dave began. The entire time that I was dating Dave under her roof, my mother swore that Dave would never make anything of himself, never be able to support a family a family, tried to get him arrested, in trouble with the military and fired from a job. (Yeah. I know.) But, honestly, if you met my mother on the street, or at say one of my kid's birthday parties, you'd like her. She's not socially inappropriate in an obvious way.
So- We're in Florida, a trip that Dave and I didn't want to go on due to all the drama with my family leading up to it. (Call me about 100 bucks I borrowed two years ago while you're in the process of buying a house for one of my brothers? Seriously?) But the kids wouldn't go without us, and they really wanted to go-
And while we're down there, the advice from my father starts, and the didacticness of my mother's personality comes out- And she's constantly swinging from my brother's girlfriend to me with who's her new BFF that day... As my mother doesn't see me as a daughter or a family member anymore, and hasn't for 10 years. She sees me as someone that she has to have in her life because my spawn are her grandkids, and I swear to DEITY that sometimes she forgets WHY my spawn are her grandkids. But I digress.
And the comments about how we're overspending our money begin and how they (She) isn't paying for anything extra for us and we're on our own if we run out of money (Mainly because she felt we were eating out to much because we didn't want to eat out of a cooler in the Universal Studios parking lot with them)... And the financial planning advice starts from my father- Again, the man who just bought one of my brothers a home because he couldn't afford his rent. And then the "We'll meet you at X in Y minutes", and 2 hours later no one has shown up- Or the "You have to be out of the hotel room at 11, sorry, we know you wanted to go swimming with the kids again" but what I'm not going to walk down the hotel room hallway to tell you is that I paid 30 bucks for a late check out for one room that you could have taken a shower in and played with them on the beach for a bit longer.
Dave's seething at various points of the vacation. And, with all my issues with my family and my brother's whore, I felt that I handled most things very well- There wasn't much that was going to interfere with my children's enjoyment of Shamu or their 10th time riding Spiderman... Or their first time on a real beach and S just being S.
But after all the hell that we went through- Most of it I can't remember now that I've run it down with my therapist, all the fighting Dave and I did over my parents, and the agreement that we came to about the next when it comes to my family, after my 84 year old Grandparents leave in July... We decided we're done with my family. We're done with the judgement about how we live our lives. We're done with the assumption that because Dave makes above the 50k mark (Barely) that we should be better off financially than we are. (Have you ever been a gov't contractor, Dad? No? Shut the fuck up, then.) We're tired of the comments that we're to hard on our kids because we expect certain behaviors out of them and don't tolerate others, vacation or not. (At least I don't back hand mine every time one of them says something that I don't like, Mom.) I'm tired of S being thrown into the Olympics against his cousin that is 10 months older than him... Well, assholes, let's put her in the Olympics (If you don't know, then ask another mom. Fuck.) against my kids when they were about to turn 2. I can't help it if you don't remember how smart G and L were at that age- But do not give me shit that she was walking at 10 months and S refuses to crawl at a year.
I'm just tired of, still, after Dave and I being married for 10 years, after getting kicked out of the house and the family 10 years ago and trying to get back in various times over the years, that none of what I've done with my kids or that Dave is good enough for them yet. I'm not good enough for them. The way I choose to live my life... Where we choose to live... None of it is good enough...
So, explain it to me, please- Because that's my next row in my head. How do go go about writing out your family?
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Nineteen:
I know, I know. Shoot me.
It's what I do. When the shit hits the wall, I retreat. Away from everyone that might be able or willing to help or listen. I retreat into Dave. I retreat into the kids. I call my therapist in a mad panic of "GET ME IN NOW BEFORE MY BRAIN EXPLODES!!!". I retreat because I know that if I pull one more thing onto my bipolar 2 plate, I will downward into a funk that will require a very large amount of medication to pull me out of. Or liquor. Or both.
It's like this, friends... I can only juggle so many plates at once. The plates I choose to constantly juggle are my kids and that man child I married. They are the ones I never put down. My next choice to juggle are the ones that directly pertain to them- In the past two weeks, it's been another car accident, an epic battle with our health insurance over $700, L switching schools to be with G but then not being able to continue on to 2nd grade because of the interim principle's "philosophical objections" against little boys skipping grades and not wanting to start a precedent at her school and that we'd broken the law by skipping him a grade (Well, he skipped a grade at another school, lady.)... Among the regular day to day annoyances of raising three boys and a man child.
Then, I choose to take on secondary plates- My family, Dave's family, and friends. I can only handle so much bullshit that extends from either of those three areas before I want to fucking snap, and they all fill up the same bullshit jar. My family fills it up relatively fast with intruding and nonsense questions like, "How are you going to come up with the money to fix your car?" or "How much money do you have right now?". Well, being that you just bought one of my siblings a house and you are not, nor have you been actively financing my life in over 10 years, you don't get to ask me those questions. AND, we're all going to Florida together as one huge happy family in about a week. Shoot me in the fucking head now- Hence where all the money questions are coming from. (Lyndsey, I'm probably going to be calling.) Then if I get one more email about some old lady I've never met's sternum, I'm going to scream. Thank's Dave's mom.
And then there's the "friends". And I use that term loosely. I have a few. I've recently met a few nice, non bat shit crazy women. I've started taking part in a playgroup. And then I posted about my issues with the interim principle. (Not the full story about how I grabbed my balls and called the Kentucky Department of Education on her ass, but hey. Let the triffling tattle tale think that I'm just a ranting pissed off mom. I'm ok with that.) And some some pissy bitch decided to send my vent, which wasn't anything that I'd not said to her, her boss, the principle and admin. dean of L's current school, and the head of primary education for Kentucky to the principle in question. It got brought up in a fucking AMBUSH of a meeting, because they thought I'd still be bringing my 2nd child to their school. And then she thought that she'd go ahead and lecture me on internet safety because nothing on the internet is secure.
Let me start off by saying that I was mortified. Not that she read what I wrote. I stand behind everything that I put out in public. I was mortified that someone that I'd never met felt the need to interject themselves into my life in such a way that could have such dire and horrible consequences for L. Secondly, I was pissed for everyone else who posts personal things on the playgroup message's boards. Thirdly, I don't need a fucking lecture on internet safety. I'm not a fucking 12 year old girl. Don't fucking ambush me in front of the soon to be principle because I ran your ass up the flag pole to your boss, your bosses boss, and the State of fucking Kentucky. But again, the trifling bitch who was doing the interim principle a SERVICE by letting her know what I said didn't know the entire story... Or that I'd actually done something about it besides sit on the internet and whine.
Anyway, so long post short... Back to the plates. My arms are short. And if you know me, I make sure that the plates closest to me are the ones that stay up. It's nothing personal. If I don't answer your phone call at 10:30pm, it's because that my insomniac ass is finally trying to sleep. If I don't answer every one of your text messages immediately, it's because I've got so much on every one of those closest to me plates that they come first. They have to. They are my priority and always will come first...
Besides... They are really cute.
It's what I do. When the shit hits the wall, I retreat. Away from everyone that might be able or willing to help or listen. I retreat into Dave. I retreat into the kids. I call my therapist in a mad panic of "GET ME IN NOW BEFORE MY BRAIN EXPLODES!!!". I retreat because I know that if I pull one more thing onto my bipolar 2 plate, I will downward into a funk that will require a very large amount of medication to pull me out of. Or liquor. Or both.
It's like this, friends... I can only juggle so many plates at once. The plates I choose to constantly juggle are my kids and that man child I married. They are the ones I never put down. My next choice to juggle are the ones that directly pertain to them- In the past two weeks, it's been another car accident, an epic battle with our health insurance over $700, L switching schools to be with G but then not being able to continue on to 2nd grade because of the interim principle's "philosophical objections" against little boys skipping grades and not wanting to start a precedent at her school and that we'd broken the law by skipping him a grade (Well, he skipped a grade at another school, lady.)... Among the regular day to day annoyances of raising three boys and a man child.
Then, I choose to take on secondary plates- My family, Dave's family, and friends. I can only handle so much bullshit that extends from either of those three areas before I want to fucking snap, and they all fill up the same bullshit jar. My family fills it up relatively fast with intruding and nonsense questions like, "How are you going to come up with the money to fix your car?" or "How much money do you have right now?". Well, being that you just bought one of my siblings a house and you are not, nor have you been actively financing my life in over 10 years, you don't get to ask me those questions. AND, we're all going to Florida together as one huge happy family in about a week. Shoot me in the fucking head now- Hence where all the money questions are coming from. (Lyndsey, I'm probably going to be calling.) Then if I get one more email about some old lady I've never met's sternum, I'm going to scream. Thank's Dave's mom.
And then there's the "friends". And I use that term loosely. I have a few. I've recently met a few nice, non bat shit crazy women. I've started taking part in a playgroup. And then I posted about my issues with the interim principle. (Not the full story about how I grabbed my balls and called the Kentucky Department of Education on her ass, but hey. Let the triffling tattle tale think that I'm just a ranting pissed off mom. I'm ok with that.) And some some pissy bitch decided to send my vent, which wasn't anything that I'd not said to her, her boss, the principle and admin. dean of L's current school, and the head of primary education for Kentucky to the principle in question. It got brought up in a fucking AMBUSH of a meeting, because they thought I'd still be bringing my 2nd child to their school. And then she thought that she'd go ahead and lecture me on internet safety because nothing on the internet is secure.
Let me start off by saying that I was mortified. Not that she read what I wrote. I stand behind everything that I put out in public. I was mortified that someone that I'd never met felt the need to interject themselves into my life in such a way that could have such dire and horrible consequences for L. Secondly, I was pissed for everyone else who posts personal things on the playgroup message's boards. Thirdly, I don't need a fucking lecture on internet safety. I'm not a fucking 12 year old girl. Don't fucking ambush me in front of the soon to be principle because I ran your ass up the flag pole to your boss, your bosses boss, and the State of fucking Kentucky. But again, the trifling bitch who was doing the interim principle a SERVICE by letting her know what I said didn't know the entire story... Or that I'd actually done something about it besides sit on the internet and whine.
Anyway, so long post short... Back to the plates. My arms are short. And if you know me, I make sure that the plates closest to me are the ones that stay up. It's nothing personal. If I don't answer your phone call at 10:30pm, it's because that my insomniac ass is finally trying to sleep. If I don't answer every one of your text messages immediately, it's because I've got so much on every one of those closest to me plates that they come first. They have to. They are my priority and always will come first...
Besides... They are really cute.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Seventeen: Our Eleven Year Anniversary...
Dave and I officially became a couple on April 30th, 2000. I was 17. He was 19. 6 months, to the day later, he left me for basic training. 7 months after that, on May 26th, 2001 we got married. I was 18 and he was 20. 18 months after that, G was born- this perfect little non alien-headed baby. 2 years, almost to the day- and a deployment later, L was born. (My first question when he finally shot out was "What color is his hair?" "Oh it's beautiful, it's red" "GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!!!" I screamed.). And then 5 years and 8 months later, S was born. Little, sweet, chicken legged S.
This isn't going to be a long post- Just one long enough to say this in my own way.
I haven't always been in love with him. There have been quite a few times where I've downright hated him. There have been times where I've done the life insurance calculation in my head. (If you're reading this and you don't know what the Life Insurance Calculation is, you're in the wrong place.) There have been times where I've intentionally ignored his calls. There have been times where I've wanted to leave him. There have been two times where I've actually left... And then realized that there wasn't enough money in the bank account for me to stay gone for long. We've thrown things, we've screamed, we've locked each other out of the house, I've pushed him out of a moving vehicle (It was only going 5 miles an hour. Shut it.), he left me in the post-partum unit after G was born to go home and get some sleep because he was tired...
Right?
But I love my husband. And like the ebb and flow of a marriage and any relationship that's lasted as long as ours has as young as ours started, I am in love with him. No matter what stupid shit he's done on whatever day that's got me looking at him like he's a new level of dumbass I've never seen, (Seriously, today, he put the basket for the ice maker back in the freezer after it's been sitting in the cabinet for two years, without washing it, and then put a bag of ice in it.) he usually does something to redeem himself.
How could I not love him. The man went to war for us because it was the only job he could find. He went to Korea when his children were 2 and a half and 6 months for 18 months because it was the better of the two options- Go for 18 and get out for good or Go for a year, come home for 6 months and go back to Iraq. He worked his ass off in a job he hated for 6 years for a Government he didn't support just to make sure that G, L and I had what we needed- To prove my family wrong about him. After he got out, he worked 4 years in a backbreaking job he tolerated striving for something better for all of us that he finally got- And you know what he said when I congratulated him? "It's no big deal- I do it for you guys.".
And right now, after jumping down his shit for annoying me most of the day, I got hungry, at midnight. You know what he's doing? Out getting the hamburger I couldn't live without.
He's put up with my bat shit crazy ass for 11 years. He gets me. He still laughs at me when I tell him something looks like a penis, even if it doesn't even remotely resemble a dick. He tells me that I'm dumb when I tell him a horrible joke. He acts interested when I tell him that some dumb cunt wore an IUD on her head to the Royal Wedding. He takes the spiders outside.
He's far from perfect. He looks like a cross between the lost member of ZZTop and the missing cast member of a Pirates of the Caribbean Movie... He's caused me to have TWO redheaded children and THREE boys...
But I love him. I do. I love the fucking moron.
This isn't going to be a long post- Just one long enough to say this in my own way.
I haven't always been in love with him. There have been quite a few times where I've downright hated him. There have been times where I've done the life insurance calculation in my head. (If you're reading this and you don't know what the Life Insurance Calculation is, you're in the wrong place.) There have been times where I've intentionally ignored his calls. There have been times where I've wanted to leave him. There have been two times where I've actually left... And then realized that there wasn't enough money in the bank account for me to stay gone for long. We've thrown things, we've screamed, we've locked each other out of the house, I've pushed him out of a moving vehicle (It was only going 5 miles an hour. Shut it.), he left me in the post-partum unit after G was born to go home and get some sleep because he was tired...
Right?
But I love my husband. And like the ebb and flow of a marriage and any relationship that's lasted as long as ours has as young as ours started, I am in love with him. No matter what stupid shit he's done on whatever day that's got me looking at him like he's a new level of dumbass I've never seen, (Seriously, today, he put the basket for the ice maker back in the freezer after it's been sitting in the cabinet for two years, without washing it, and then put a bag of ice in it.) he usually does something to redeem himself.
How could I not love him. The man went to war for us because it was the only job he could find. He went to Korea when his children were 2 and a half and 6 months for 18 months because it was the better of the two options- Go for 18 and get out for good or Go for a year, come home for 6 months and go back to Iraq. He worked his ass off in a job he hated for 6 years for a Government he didn't support just to make sure that G, L and I had what we needed- To prove my family wrong about him. After he got out, he worked 4 years in a backbreaking job he tolerated striving for something better for all of us that he finally got- And you know what he said when I congratulated him? "It's no big deal- I do it for you guys.".
And right now, after jumping down his shit for annoying me most of the day, I got hungry, at midnight. You know what he's doing? Out getting the hamburger I couldn't live without.
He's put up with my bat shit crazy ass for 11 years. He gets me. He still laughs at me when I tell him something looks like a penis, even if it doesn't even remotely resemble a dick. He tells me that I'm dumb when I tell him a horrible joke. He acts interested when I tell him that some dumb cunt wore an IUD on her head to the Royal Wedding. He takes the spiders outside.
He's far from perfect. He looks like a cross between the lost member of ZZTop and the missing cast member of a Pirates of the Caribbean Movie... He's caused me to have TWO redheaded children and THREE boys...
But I love him. I do. I love the fucking moron.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Fifteen and 16, all wrapped into one, because I'm doing it at the same time.
Holy Hell.
That's really all I can say.
(As I'm typing this, I'm also watching DVR'd Royal Wedding coverage, so excuse the interjections. She's got a cracked rib? But she refuses to miss the wedding? What a fucking trooper.)
I finally got tired of hearing Dave bitch. He had 5 fillings done about 6 months ago. He told that god damn piece of shit dentist that the tooth was bothering him, but they told him it was fine. And it kept bothering him. (Awwww, her mom isn't a cunt and trying to upstage her daughter! I'm impressed!) I made him go to Urgent Care. They gave him anti-biotics. He got better. Started bothering him again. He bitched and moaned for about 3 weeks.
Now. I can NOT stand it when a grown fucking assed man who spent a year in a war zone and then 18 months in Korea and somehow managed to make it through surgery on his own can't pick up the phone and handle something as easy as making a dentist appointment. I can't comprehend how it doesn't cross his mind. I don't understand how everyone of those aircraft he has a part of inspecting doesn't fucking crash- Because if he is anything at work like he's at home... Well you see where I'm going with this.
Finally, I broke down and called another dentist who bailed me out of a jam earlier this year. They got him that afternoon. Great. (God, the British don't age well. Is it me, or do they tend to start looking like frogs after the age of 60? Maybe it's because they start losing their teeth. Shitty dental care there, too) The tooth that had been bothering him was almost completely abscessed. Root Canal/Crown or pull it. Now, we have GREAT dental insurance, but it still cost us 200 bucks. Obviously, he opts for the Root Canal/Crown option. Otherwise, we'd be heading for divorce court. I refuse to be married to a man who doesn't have all this teeth- Real or otherwise. I might live in Kentucky- But I refuse to look like we live in Kentucky. LOL
Anyway, now I shouldn't be bitching about 200 bucks out of pocket for 1300 of work, but I'm pissed that we have to spend it when it should have been a simple filling 6 months ago. So, he goes back the next day. (Really, Camilla... Should you REALLY be there? T-A-C-K-Y. I don't care if you're married to his father or not. The British are so much politer than I am. HOLY SHIT SARAH FERGESON'S CHILDREN. WE COULD PLAY SKEE-BALL THROUGH YOUR HEAD PIECES. One of them looks like an ornate toilet seat. Not to mention that you look like a common 5 dollar whores- The kind you pay 5 dollars to go away. FUCK.)
3 hours in the chair. They can't finish it. Has to go back Thursday. Thank god he spent Wednesday night home, because I came down with a combination of Ebola/Aids/The Plague/Pregnancy/Death. I was up all night puking up my toenails. (All white/ivory wedding party? Bold choice... And for 85 years old, she is rocking that yellow like a 20 year old.- I'm not all bitter and angry. LOL) And the entire time that I'm up on Wednesday night puking up my toenails, he's whining like a little bitch about how bad it hurts
Well you stupid asshole, had you called the dentist before now, maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Yeah. It makes me a bad wife. I don't have sympathy when you continously do stupid things with the same result, expecting the result to change the next time you procrastinate. Not that he wasn't helpful to me on Wed, but still. It's a never ending cycle
So he's back at the Dentist on Thursday, another 3.5 hours in the chair. Comes home at 7pm. "OWWWWWWWW, It hurtssssssssss...." Really? Great. (Ok, I've seen the dress on CNN before this, and it's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful... And how she managed to keep it a secret until now? Amazing.) "I'm hungryyyyyy." Really, buddy?
And then I start puking again. And then he realizes that it's not all about him, because he can stand up without falling over or throwing up. And he mans up and takes care of everything else for the night, while I laid on the couch. (Needs bigger flowers. Not bigger than your head, but smaller than your fist? Come on.) He took the kids to school for me today, too. Big improvement over what would have usually happened.
So the question I pose is this: How do you make a 30 year old man FINALLY realize it's not all about him? Mothers know that sometimes we have to work through the pain and just do what we need to do, where as men come down this a freaking sniffle and it's like they are going to die on the rack while being boiled in hot oil? (Longest. Isle. Ever.) I do realize that it's a little late in the marriage to try to sleep train the man now, but shit. I'm tired of feeling like the only adult in the house most of the time. (Oh, no wonder the chairs were turned that way. They can't see the actual ceremony anyway. LAME. Could you imagine being one of those people stuck in the corner? I'd be watching it live on my iPhone Via my BBC App just so I could see what I was hearing!)
And just now, after watching him take his pain meds, and asking him if he needed to take them to work with him, getting told no, I get a text that said, "Did I leave my meds at home?" "Yes. I asked you if you needed them, and you said no." "I thought I put them in my lunchbox." "Reread my last text. That makes NO sense.".
No, dummy. I asked you that as you had them in your hand. How could they be in your lunchbox if they were also in your hand? Did they have sex and have little lortab and amoxicillian babies? I swear to god, if I weren't around...
Except I know that he can do it. He has done it. So either he reverts to childhood, or just gets lazy. And I'm not sure what pisses me off more.
So the rest of this will be about the Royal Wedding
Aw... He told her that she looked so beautiful. Stop whispering, you too! It's almost to cute, making me want to vomit again. Giggle. So much hope. Wait until he needs a fucking root canal and won't call the dentist himself.
I always want someone to stand up and scream "NO KATE, YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM!!! YOU'RE CARRYING MY BABY" or "NO WILLIAM!!! YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED THAT COW LIKE NOTHING YOU'D EVER SEEN BEFORE!!!"... But it never happens that way. Just someone coughing at at the most inopportune time, getting my heart all aflutter.
I think Kate's dad forgot his line, "Her mother and I".
I can totally understand him not wearing a ring. He can't wear it at work. It's annoying, they get lost. We've lost to many to count. Not worth it. And honestly... Does it matter? It's not like anyone in the free world isn't going to know 2 things. 1) He's Prince Fucking William Something Something Luis. B) He just got married in a 34 million dollar wedding ceremony. 3) He's probably going to Leap Frog over his father for the British Crown. While it might seem like a wingman all in itself, I'm going with it's probably the greatest birthright, cockblock ever. When 2 billion people watch your wedding, your cheating days are a bit numbered.
The way this priest is holding his hands up is making me think he's going to crack their skulls together.
So, they are married now. Are they going to watch the remainder of their ceremony as spectators? Church of England weddings are confusing. I'm waiting for them to bring out slaves and lions. Wait. Then this bitch is yawning. You're personally invited to the social event of the century and it's boring you. Send your invite to me so I can comment from the actual Abbey and not couch quarterback it while Shane's screaming at me about not being able to pull all the laundry out of the basket.
That nun with the white hair is sleeping. I'm having a hard time staying awake through this guy's reading, too.
Shane likes Boys Chamber Choir music... I think he's faking me out to make me think he likes the music so he can turn the Xbox on and off.
Oh wait, they are standing up again. But that Nun is still sleeping. ^5 to her, I suppose. I guess when you've lived that long, you are allowed to sleep through whatever the hell you want to, right?
I guess when you are the Queen, you don't have to sing "God Save the Queen.".
Ok, is it just me, but does William occasionally look like a Chester?
Honestly, they look happy... Really happy in comparison to Charles and Di... I'm not a romantic-y, dream of being a princessy girl, but ya gotta hope that they can make it under all the public pressure... Or hope that he's better at hiding his 40 year affair.
That's really all I can say.
(As I'm typing this, I'm also watching DVR'd Royal Wedding coverage, so excuse the interjections. She's got a cracked rib? But she refuses to miss the wedding? What a fucking trooper.)
I finally got tired of hearing Dave bitch. He had 5 fillings done about 6 months ago. He told that god damn piece of shit dentist that the tooth was bothering him, but they told him it was fine. And it kept bothering him. (Awwww, her mom isn't a cunt and trying to upstage her daughter! I'm impressed!) I made him go to Urgent Care. They gave him anti-biotics. He got better. Started bothering him again. He bitched and moaned for about 3 weeks.
Now. I can NOT stand it when a grown fucking assed man who spent a year in a war zone and then 18 months in Korea and somehow managed to make it through surgery on his own can't pick up the phone and handle something as easy as making a dentist appointment. I can't comprehend how it doesn't cross his mind. I don't understand how everyone of those aircraft he has a part of inspecting doesn't fucking crash- Because if he is anything at work like he's at home... Well you see where I'm going with this.
Finally, I broke down and called another dentist who bailed me out of a jam earlier this year. They got him that afternoon. Great. (God, the British don't age well. Is it me, or do they tend to start looking like frogs after the age of 60? Maybe it's because they start losing their teeth. Shitty dental care there, too) The tooth that had been bothering him was almost completely abscessed. Root Canal/Crown or pull it. Now, we have GREAT dental insurance, but it still cost us 200 bucks. Obviously, he opts for the Root Canal/Crown option. Otherwise, we'd be heading for divorce court. I refuse to be married to a man who doesn't have all this teeth- Real or otherwise. I might live in Kentucky- But I refuse to look like we live in Kentucky. LOL
Anyway, now I shouldn't be bitching about 200 bucks out of pocket for 1300 of work, but I'm pissed that we have to spend it when it should have been a simple filling 6 months ago. So, he goes back the next day. (Really, Camilla... Should you REALLY be there? T-A-C-K-Y. I don't care if you're married to his father or not. The British are so much politer than I am. HOLY SHIT SARAH FERGESON'S CHILDREN. WE COULD PLAY SKEE-BALL THROUGH YOUR HEAD PIECES. One of them looks like an ornate toilet seat. Not to mention that you look like a common 5 dollar whores- The kind you pay 5 dollars to go away. FUCK.)
3 hours in the chair. They can't finish it. Has to go back Thursday. Thank god he spent Wednesday night home, because I came down with a combination of Ebola/Aids/The Plague/Pregnancy/Death. I was up all night puking up my toenails. (All white/ivory wedding party? Bold choice... And for 85 years old, she is rocking that yellow like a 20 year old.- I'm not all bitter and angry. LOL) And the entire time that I'm up on Wednesday night puking up my toenails, he's whining like a little bitch about how bad it hurts
Well you stupid asshole, had you called the dentist before now, maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Yeah. It makes me a bad wife. I don't have sympathy when you continously do stupid things with the same result, expecting the result to change the next time you procrastinate. Not that he wasn't helpful to me on Wed, but still. It's a never ending cycle
So he's back at the Dentist on Thursday, another 3.5 hours in the chair. Comes home at 7pm. "OWWWWWWWW, It hurtssssssssss...." Really? Great. (Ok, I've seen the dress on CNN before this, and it's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful... And how she managed to keep it a secret until now? Amazing.) "I'm hungryyyyyy." Really, buddy?
And then I start puking again. And then he realizes that it's not all about him, because he can stand up without falling over or throwing up. And he mans up and takes care of everything else for the night, while I laid on the couch. (Needs bigger flowers. Not bigger than your head, but smaller than your fist? Come on.) He took the kids to school for me today, too. Big improvement over what would have usually happened.
So the question I pose is this: How do you make a 30 year old man FINALLY realize it's not all about him? Mothers know that sometimes we have to work through the pain and just do what we need to do, where as men come down this a freaking sniffle and it's like they are going to die on the rack while being boiled in hot oil? (Longest. Isle. Ever.) I do realize that it's a little late in the marriage to try to sleep train the man now, but shit. I'm tired of feeling like the only adult in the house most of the time. (Oh, no wonder the chairs were turned that way. They can't see the actual ceremony anyway. LAME. Could you imagine being one of those people stuck in the corner? I'd be watching it live on my iPhone Via my BBC App just so I could see what I was hearing!)
And just now, after watching him take his pain meds, and asking him if he needed to take them to work with him, getting told no, I get a text that said, "Did I leave my meds at home?" "Yes. I asked you if you needed them, and you said no." "I thought I put them in my lunchbox." "Reread my last text. That makes NO sense.".
No, dummy. I asked you that as you had them in your hand. How could they be in your lunchbox if they were also in your hand? Did they have sex and have little lortab and amoxicillian babies? I swear to god, if I weren't around...
Except I know that he can do it. He has done it. So either he reverts to childhood, or just gets lazy. And I'm not sure what pisses me off more.
So the rest of this will be about the Royal Wedding
Aw... He told her that she looked so beautiful. Stop whispering, you too! It's almost to cute, making me want to vomit again. Giggle. So much hope. Wait until he needs a fucking root canal and won't call the dentist himself.
I always want someone to stand up and scream "NO KATE, YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM!!! YOU'RE CARRYING MY BABY" or "NO WILLIAM!!! YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED THAT COW LIKE NOTHING YOU'D EVER SEEN BEFORE!!!"... But it never happens that way. Just someone coughing at at the most inopportune time, getting my heart all aflutter.
I think Kate's dad forgot his line, "Her mother and I".
I can totally understand him not wearing a ring. He can't wear it at work. It's annoying, they get lost. We've lost to many to count. Not worth it. And honestly... Does it matter? It's not like anyone in the free world isn't going to know 2 things. 1) He's Prince Fucking William Something Something Luis. B) He just got married in a 34 million dollar wedding ceremony. 3) He's probably going to Leap Frog over his father for the British Crown. While it might seem like a wingman all in itself, I'm going with it's probably the greatest birthright, cockblock ever. When 2 billion people watch your wedding, your cheating days are a bit numbered.
The way this priest is holding his hands up is making me think he's going to crack their skulls together.
So, they are married now. Are they going to watch the remainder of their ceremony as spectators? Church of England weddings are confusing. I'm waiting for them to bring out slaves and lions. Wait. Then this bitch is yawning. You're personally invited to the social event of the century and it's boring you. Send your invite to me so I can comment from the actual Abbey and not couch quarterback it while Shane's screaming at me about not being able to pull all the laundry out of the basket.
That nun with the white hair is sleeping. I'm having a hard time staying awake through this guy's reading, too.
Shane likes Boys Chamber Choir music... I think he's faking me out to make me think he likes the music so he can turn the Xbox on and off.
Oh wait, they are standing up again. But that Nun is still sleeping. ^5 to her, I suppose. I guess when you've lived that long, you are allowed to sleep through whatever the hell you want to, right?
I guess when you are the Queen, you don't have to sing "God Save the Queen.".
Ok, is it just me, but does William occasionally look like a Chester?
Honestly, they look happy... Really happy in comparison to Charles and Di... I'm not a romantic-y, dream of being a princessy girl, but ya gotta hope that they can make it under all the public pressure... Or hope that he's better at hiding his 40 year affair.
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