Monthly Archives: December 2005

Truth and lies

I’m not the smartest person in the world, not the prettiest, or the funniest. I am not good at much and sometimes I wish I was better at so many things.


But I have you. All three of you. You are all that is good in my life. Each one of you perfect in your own way. I feel as though I don’t deserve you sometimes, but my GOD, I love you. Each one of you. Your love, your smiles, your personalities, they melt away the sadness in my heart. I see you smile, I hear your laughter and I know I’ve done something right. You are the one, two, three things I’ve done good and right in my life. You’re all happy, you’re all so full of life. You are all so kind, full of so much personality. You’re all incredibily funny. I mean, like laugh out loud, peeing my pants funny. Each one of you are amazing, unique, beautiful children and I’d like to think I have something to do with that.

And they call this ” A Parenting Blog” ha! ha!

I have a confession.
I HATE CHRISTMAS TREES.
I hate picking one out, I hate decorating them, I hate watering them, I hate vacuuming around them, I hate having to take the decorations off.
I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT CHRISTMAS TREES.
I try to pretend I don’t hate them, because, you know, the kids love them and look forward to getting one and making it all “pretty”.
I do my best to make it enjoyable. I make hot cocoa, and put on christmas music. I smile while they hang the ornaments all random like with no regard for SPACING or PLACEMENT. I say things like “very pretty!” “wow, you really have an eye for decorating!” “I really am LOVING THIS, YOU GUYS!”
But deep down inside? I WANT TO PUNCH PEOPLE.
Ah, Letting the kids help decorate the tree is GREAT FUN!.
One year? I rebelled and refused to go shopping for the tree. I told Tony I trusted him and the boys to pick out a great tree!
Yeah, that didn’t work out to well because they came home with a tree that was MISSING THE ENTIRE MIDDLE SECTION.

I was pissed and man, I said a whole ‘lotta “F” words, but Tony wasn’t even having it, he was like “Oh HELL NO”. (because, you know, I made the choice to not help him pick it out, but, come on, how do you pick a tree with NO MIDDLE SECTION?)
Anyway, I swore I’d never do that again and that, as much as I hate shopping for trees, I’d suck it up and go because, HO HO HO MERRY CHRISTMAS! I love doing holiday things with my kids! I AM A GREAT MOTHER!
But really? I’m not a “great mother” when it comes to the holidays. I don’t have the patience for it. Like, last night. I had the bright idea to go to Michaels to buy some supplies to do some “holiday crafts.” I decided on glass ornaments to paint and clay ornaments to bake.
Um. Within the first 5 minutes water was spilled on the newspaper I had just laid on the table and one glass ornament was shattered into pieces.
Now, a Good Mother, who possessed patience and a little holiday spirit might have sighed a little, but understood, “hey! They’re just kids, relax! It’s Christmas.”
But me? I put my face in my hands and GROWLED, like “AAAHHHHHGRRRRRRRRR”.
“Are you going to cry mom? You’re going to cry, aren’t you?”
“No! I’m not going to cry! I’m going to take a few deep breaths and remind myself that this is fun and ACCIDENTS HAPPEN! So, give me a minute and we’ll get back to painting after I calm down.”

It’s like, I realize I’m being an Asshole Mother, but I can’t stop myself. How do you patient, christmas loving, perfect mothers DO IT? What is your secret?
Tony will be home in less then an hour and as soon as he takes a dump, we’ll head out to look for a tree. I’ve been thinking “positive thoughts” all day, but I promise you, the minute we hit the tree lot, I’ll be wishing I was at home, watching Dr.Phil whilst EATING MY 6TH BANANA for the day.
Because, trust me, that would be more fun than looking for a stupid Christmas Tree.

If only she had taken a bow

There was a time where I did not enjoy going out in public with my daughter and avoided it whenever possible.
Not because she was a “bad” baby, but because it was such a pain in the ass. I mean, the screaming, the crying, the diaper changes every 5 minutes, the wardrobe changes because of The Pretty Yellow Poop all over everything, the looking for a place to Whip Out A Tit. It was frustrating and not at all fun.
And when I am amongst the general public, IT BETTER BE FUN! (And you better BELIEVE I know how to PARTY in public.)
Thankfully, I no longer dread taking my daughter out amongst the people. Infact? I LOVE IT. I love taking my daughter places because girlfriend is hilarious.
She has this incredibly silly and awesome personality and I love to watch her around people.
She says “Hi!” to everyone who looks at her, and if that person isn’t a dick, and says “Hi!” back, she’ll smile the biggest, Goofiest, (TOOTHIEST, because, look! The teeth? They are HUGE) smile. And if you’re lucky, she’ll reach into her mouth, remove a cheerio and GIVE IT TO YOU. Because, DAMMIT,Gabby shares.
Yesterday, I decided to take her to Barnes and Noble because, girlfriend loves books. And when I say “loves” I mean “is obsessed.” We can sit for hours and read and she does not get bored. Which, is wonderful! And great! But, doesn’t she know I have clothes to fold?
Once we got there, she immediately busted out the personality and started waving, and shouting “Hi!” and smiling and giggling. Most people respond positively to her friendliness and “oohhhh” and “awww” and some people actually squat down to have a conversation with her! But some people are dicks and get annoyed because HOW DARE A CUTE BABY WITH HUGE TEETH BOTHER THEM.
I hate people like that.
Anyways.
She was in heaven at Barnes and Noble. HEAVEN, I tell you. It was so much fun watching her cruising the aisles, pointing at books, trying to get books that were out of her reach and laughing the entire time.

But then, something happened I didn’t expect.
Gabby found the stage. And she climbed up in the stage. And she looked up at the sign that said “Paws to heal, welcome!” and I am PRETTY SURE she thought it said something totally different, something like… um…perhaps… maybe…

Because, the next thing I know, girlfriend is squating, grunting and very much MAKING THE POOP for all of The People to watch!
I was slightly mortified, but mostly, proud. So proud, I clapped and said “yay!” Because, ha! ha! My daughter took a dump on the stage, people.

Vote for Y

When I was in the sixth grade, I ran for Student Council.
I wanted to be the 6th grade class secretary, because I wanted to change people’s lives. Please, Do not under estimate the power of “taking minutes”.
Back then, I didn’t have the self confidence issues I have today. Infact? I thought I was The Shit. I really and truly did. I didn’t think for one minute that I’d lose. I was YVONNE! People liked me! Because I was funny and man, could I sing. (And strum a mean guitar, but now, I’m just bragging.)
I had a plan to win! I was going to have the BEST CAMPAIGN SIGNS IN THE HISTORY OF CENTRAL SCHOOL ELEMENTARY ELECTIONS.
I had the “good” poster board, you know, the really thick kind? And I had glitter! And puffy paint! And SHARPIES!
There was only one problem. A very BIG problem.
Nothing rhymes with my name. And in order to have the greatest campaign sign EVER, you must have a cool slogan that rhymes with your name.
I ended up having to settle with stupid signs that were not great at all.
“Vote Yvonne for class secretary!”
I figured I could make up for the fact that my slogan SUCKED by writing the greatest SPEECH ever. And I did, and I won.
If only I had had a friend like Melly in elementary school, because, if I had, she would have informed me that there actually was a phrase that rhymed with my name and man, was it hot.

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If only she had taken a bow

There was a time where I did not enjoy going out in public with my daughter and avoided it whenever possible.
Not because she was a “bad” baby, but because it was such a pain in the ass. I mean, the screaming, the crying, the diaper changes every 5 minutes, the wardrobe changes because of The Pretty Yellow Poop all over everything, the looking for a place to Whip Out A Tit. It was frustrating and not at all fun.
And when I am amongst the general public, IT BETTER BE FUN! (And you better BELIEVE I know how to PARTY in public.)
Thankfully, I no longer dread taking my daughter out amongst the people. Infact? I LOVE IT. I love taking my daughter places because girlfriend is hilarious.
She has this incredibly silly and awesome personality and I love to watch her around people.
She says “Hi!” to everyone who looks at her, and if that person isn’t a dick, and says “Hi!” back, she’ll smile the biggest, Goofiest, (TOOTHIEST, because, look! The teeth? They are HUGE) smile. And if you’re lucky, she’ll reach into her mouth, remove a cheerio and GIVE IT TO YOU. Because, DAMMIT,Gabby shares.
Yesterday, I decided to take her to Barnes and Noble because, girlfriend loves books. And when I say “loves” I mean “is obsessed.” We can sit for hours and read and she does not get bored. Which, is wonderful! And great! But, doesn’t she know I have clothes to fold?
Once we got there, she immediately busted out the personality and started waving, and shouting “Hi!” and smiling and giggling. Most people respond positively to her friendliness and “oohhhh” and “awww” and some people actually squat down to have a conversation with her! But some people are dicks and get annoyed because HOW DARE A CUTE BABY WITH HUGE TEETH BOTHER THEM.
I hate people like that.
Anyways.
She was in heaven at Barnes and Noble. HEAVEN, I tell you. It was so much fun watching her cruising the aisles, pointing at books, trying to get books that were out of her reach and laughing the entire time.

But then, something happened I didn’t expect.
Gabby found the stage. And she climbed up in the stage. And she looked up at the sign that said “Paws to heal, welcome!” and I am PRETTY SURE she thought it said something totally different, something like… um…perhaps… maybe…

Because, the next thing I know, girlfriend is squating, grunting and very much MAKING THE POOP for all of The People to watch!
I was slightly mortified, but mostly, proud. So proud, I clapped and said “yay!” Because, ha! ha! My daughter took a dump on the stage, people.

Respect… my parenting

Preface:I wasn’t going to say anything because, I blog for me! and Blog awards make me say the “F” word alot because people get all CRAAAZY n’shit, but, then, it hit me that “Oh my God, I could end up in last place and that would be really embarassing and so, I better at least mention it so that doesn’t happen!!” so…um, yeah…
Look! Thanks to Gennie, I’m a Finalist for a weblog award.
Ha! Ha! Ha! It’s funny to me for several reasons. a)I’m nominated for a “parenting blog”. I mean, I am a parent, but I don’t consider this a “parenting blog.” I mean, I talk about my vagina and my Boobs! But occassionally, I do talk about my great parenting skills, you know, like teaching my daughter to fart on command, so, I guess in a really sick way, I just may fit in to that category. b) Someone had to go and nominate Dooce (link not necessary because EVERYONE IN THE WORLD KNOWS DOOCE.) Does anyone have a chance against her? I think not. Because The Internet loves Dooce. The Internet worships Dooce and The Internet will make SURE that Dooce wins. c) Um, I’m totally going to be in last place and that’s going to be a little embarassing. But who knows, maybe Melly comes through for me the I DID FOR HER WHEN SHE WAS UP FOR AN AWARD.
I don’t care if I win or lose, it’s just a silly award that will not make me rich, nor famous, nor a better parent, but, I just don’t want to be in last place. I mean, when I was voted Second SEXIEST BLOGGER IN THE WORLD! (ha! ha! haaa! I “went there” And you will respect My Sexy because The Internet declared me so!) I was ok with not being first, because I WASN’T LAST!
But seriously, folks, I really don’t want to end up in last place, so my campaign will not be about “winning”, but, rather, “please, vote for me so I don’t come in last place!”
(But? If I do come in last place? I’m totally going to pretend like it doesn’t bother me at all and like “I’m glad I didn’t come in first and that I was last because in heaven? The first shall be last, so BOOYAH!”)
p.s. Vegas was fun. I want to tell you all about it, and I will, but first, I must deal with The Dramatics (courtesy of DramaQueen herself, of course.)

Because! Exclamation! Points! Are! Dramatic!

Hey!
Did you know I’m going to Vegas? Because, I’m going to Vegas!
I’m waiting for Joelle and Mikey to pick me up (which, is funny, because they were supposed to have picked me up at 7 this morning, so I got up all early and stuff and panicked because there was no way I’d be ready in time, but guess what? They’re not coming til 12 now! Awesome!) and as soon as they get here, off to Vegas we go!
Buffets! And slot machines! And um, “drinks”! And, maybe, just maybe, DANCING!
But? No Andrew. Or Ethan. Or Gabby.
Oh my God! I do not know if I can do this! I’ve not been away from Gabby before! I’m crying now! (ok, I’m crying again) She needs me! She needs My BOBS! She will scream and cry for me (ok, for My BOBS!) and I will not be here and she will not understand!
This hurts, man. It hurts a lot.
Everyone tells me it will be “good for me” that I need a night away, that Gabby needs to not be “so dependent” on me and that a night away from me will not kill her.
Ok. Fine. But it’s killing me right now, just thinking about it makes the tears fall from my eyes. I’ve been away from the boys before and they’re pretty much like “have fun, whatever!” about it. (Except for Ethan, he gets PISSED if I go anywhere without him, but this morning, he kissed me and said “I’ll see you tomorrow, have fun” and that made me feel good.) But my girl, my sweet girl, what is she going to do without me?
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITHOUT HER?
Oh Lord, I’m crying again.
But I will be strong! And I will go and have fun! Because… VEGAS! How can I not have fun in Vegas?
Right?
RIGHT?

Not “90”

Two weeks ago, I threw one of the Greatest Tantrums Ever.
I had been running every day. RUNNING, people. I hate to run. I despise to run. Always have. And I hate it more now then I have ever have in my life because I am 190 pounds and I’m pretty sure more than half of that 190 is boob and ass weight and boobs and ass HURT when you run. But I was like “Screw it, I’m going to run! Because I want to be thin and healthy again! And I want to push myself to do something I normally wouldn’t do! Yeehaw!”
When I first started, I could only run a short distance. But everyday, I’d push myself a little farther. I’d find “marks” and try to push myself past a new mark everyday. “Just go to that light post and then stop!” I’d tell myself, but when I’d get to that light post, I’d see a tree “You can make it to the tree, then you can stop!” Then I’d pass the tree and see a crack in the sidewalk “You can make it to that crack, then stop!” And everyday, I’d go a little farther. Eventually, I was able to run the entire trail and yes, I was so proud of myself.
But, guess what? The scale WOULD NOT MOVE. I’ve been battling the 190’s for MONTHS NOW. What in the hell is wrong with my body that it refuses to STOP WEIGHING 190 POUNDS?
So, it broke me and I quit! QUIT! But not without throwing The Tantrum.
And guess who got to witness The Tantrum? And try to talk me down from The Tantrum?
That’s right, the man I fart on during sex!
First, the tears, then, the screaming and carrying on “I’m so SICK OF THIS! I CAN’T GET OUT OF THE 190’S AND I DON’T UNDERSTAND! I run every fucking night, and I’m eating healthy and yet, my body doesn’t want to give it up, man. I can’t do it anymore. I hate running, DESPISE IT, but I’m doing it to try to lose weight and it’s not working, so WHY IN THE HELL AM I DOING IT? I mean, if I’m going to stay fat, even though I’m running every damn night, what’s the point? I’ll just sit at home and lay on the couch and weigh 190! THAT’S WHAT I’M GOING TO DO! Screw running! Screw my body! I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!”
And, so, I stopped running. And guess what? I gained 4 pounds! And that pissed me off. REALLY BADLY. So, I took it out on those 4 pounds and went to the gym. And this morning, I decided to weight myself again to see “What’s up”. I braced myself for the worst. But guess what? The worst did not happen! THE BEST HAPPENED! Because…lOOK!

(and you will shut it about how FILTHY my scale is because, its’ just a scale and I have enough shit to clean around here so that’s the last thing I’m worried about, but damn, it really IS filthy, huh?)
ONE. EIGHTY. NINE (point 5, but still, NOT ONE NINETY!)
You have no idea how exciting this is for me. It’s been YEARS since I’ve seen the 80’s and I finally feel like the curse of the 90’s is broken and there is no looking back because I will never, EVER be that weight again (ha! ha! watch, next week I’ll be crying about how I’m 190 again because I ate so much Boo-fay at Vegas!).
But for now, I will celebrate! Good bye 190’s! You were an asshole and I have always hated you and I will not miss you at all, you stubborn bitch!