Jen and Amy both passed along a link to a wondeful site if you’re interested in helping the victims of hurricane Katrina.
I wanted to pass it along to all of you.
Been There Clearinghouse.
Also? I’m going to be sorting through pictures and hopefully finding one good enough to put up for auction. If you’d like to participate, join the group and get to posting a picture.
Can I just tell you how much I LOVE that people are coming together to do something. Just makes me feel a little better.
Ya know?
Category Archives: This Thing Called Life
Sorrow
(Photo courtesy of Fox News)
How can I complain about anything right now? I feel so grateful for EVERYTHING I have right now.
For the water bottle I’m sipping out of. For the diapers neatly stacked in my daughters bedroom. For the electricity. For the breeze blowing through my bedroom window. For the gas in the tank of my van. For the clean clothes piled on my bed. For the toothpaste sitting on top of my bathroom counter. For the toilet paper. For the toilet. For sound of laughter coming from down the hall as my son watches cartoons. For the shoes on my feet. For the food in my cabinets. For the phone I can call friends with. For the blankets I can gently place on my children at night when I tuck them in. For this old, ugly house that I spend much time hating, but that today I love dearly.
Everything.
My heart is broken. I feel sick and insignificant. As I watch the videos of people desperate for help, I sob because all I can do is watch. It’s horrible. HORRIBLE.
It looks like Snoop is gone and won’t be coming back this time.
He’s “escaped” from the backyard many times. I always find him or he eventually (within a day) comes back.
This time? He’s been gone for over a week.
I searched everywhere for him with no luck.
When he was first missing? I’ll admit, I was like “SCREW YOU, asshole dog!” because I get tired of him busting out of the backyard to go cruise the ‘hood with Dirty Pit Bull Dog. TIRED OF IT.
But after a couple of days, I started to feel very sick inside. What if he gets hit by a car? What if he is starving? What if he never comes back?
Well, looks like my worst fear came true and Snoop “asshole dog” is never coming back.
I hope to God someone picked him up and is taking good care of him and loving up on him. And I hope they don’t do mean things to him,”SOMEONE” I know once did to him.
I am going to make a trip down to the animal shelter, to make sure he’s not there. If he’s not? Well, I guess that’s the end of our life with Snoop. If he is? I’m SO kicking his ass for making me worry.
“Do you put cat shit in your tacos?”
Thanks to Fiona and Flipp-ay I had the greatest night at the Improv and they know what I mean and why I owe it all to them.
Todd Glass, man. I’m kind of in love with him. I think you should all go to his website, email him and tell him how much I love him and maybe, just MAYBE if you do that? He’ll kiss me on the cheek and let me take a picture of him whilst hugging him tightly.
Oh, wait. Nevermind. HE ALREADY DID THAT.
HAAAAA. Man, that was a good one.
No comedian has ever made me laugh the way He does. He’s so spastic and random and SQUISHY and I just want to hug him and take a picture with him. Oh WAIT.
I DID!
Haaaa. But seriously folks.
Know who else was there? DO YOU? Gary Gulman, that’s who. Man, is he hot. Hot and hilarious. And man, I am tempted to make everything a joke because I just got back from A COMEDY CLUB! I seriously hear applause after every line I write that I think is funny and it’s cracking me up.
And that aint the “Sex on the stage” talking either. That’s ALL me.
But seriously, folks. Gary Gulman.
The chick in the picture was funny. Too bad for her I only fall in love with a.k.a “stalk” male comedians so, I can’t remember her name. She’s cute though, isn’t she? I didn’t even notice til just now. Weird.
I’m going to mosey (MOSEY!) on down to my bed now, but before I do, I want to thank everyone for the emails asking about Gabby. She’s doing much better, the x-rays came out clear (and, for the “record” when I saw her little heart in the x-ray? I cried. It was beautiful. ) and we’re managing the symptoms with steriods and albuterol. It’s awesome that you care.
Thank you and GOOD NIGHT!
p.s. there’s a very good chance this post will be deleted and re-written in the morning. VERY GOOD chance.
Y’s choice
I finally was able to upload and organize the pictures from G’s birthday party.
I am a little upset about the quality of the pictures. I wasn’t able to get good shots because I was too busy hosting the party and making sure everyone was happy and fed well. If I wasn’t so over protective of and completely in love with my camera, I would have asked someone else to take pictures for me. The only time I was really able to take pictures was when she was eating her cake and opening presents, that’s why there’s 89 of those. The Wanna Be Professional Photographer in me is slighty pissed about it (Can you tell? It’s 10 minutes later and I’m still talking about it!) but I’ll get over it by the time her next birthday rolls around. Hopefully.
My doctor appointment went better than I had imagined it in my mind. He didn’t laugh, but then again, I didn’t use the term “I’m dying.” Instead, I explained, yet again, how I can’t sleep at night because of the racing heart and feelings of not being able to breath. He said that all of the tests he did last time came back totally normal. So normal, infact, that he used the word “Excellent!”
That can only mean one thing.
I’m crazy.
He believes that I am having panic attacks at night. The symptoms are “classic” and I am “prone to anxiety attacks”. So. He prescribed Paxil, asked me to take it and see if the symptoms go away . He also ordered a “treadmill test” to reassure me that my heart is TOTALLY NORMAL AND EXCELLENT! And? Perhaps? Maybe? He’s going to order a sleep study to rule out sleep apnea.
Here’s the struggle I have now.
I don’t want to take the Paxil. I’ve been off of anti depressants for a few years now. I don’t want to go back on. I don’t want the extra weight. I don’t want the feeling of having to rely on them but most importantly? I am NOT ready to wean Gabby.
Yes, internet, I still breastfeed my one year old. Not that often, pretty much just at night and in the morning, but I’m not ready to give that up yet. I feel like that would be incredibly selfish of me to do that to her.
I realize I need my sleep and that I have to be well in order to care for my children properly, but I can’t seem to bring myself to take that away from her. I get all emotional just thinking about it.
Perhaps I have some issues I need to deal with when it comes to letting go of the breastfeeding. Wait, ME? Have ISSUES? No way! But I can tell you this, the thought of stopping RIGHT NOW so I can take paxil? Makes me feel very sad.
I have no idea what I am going to do, but I hate hate HATE that I have to choose between a pill and my daughters needs.
Am I being overly dramatic about this? Probably. I’m sure she’d be fine if I weaned her, and I’m sure this is MY issue, the finality of it all kills me.
So what’s a woman to do?
I have no idea. I can function without sleep, I’ve been doing it for months now. I’m not so sure I could deal with a screaming little girl who wants The Boob and can’t have it. I don’t think I’m ready to deal with that just yet.
sigh…
Unedited- (so if there are a million mistakes, I’m sorry, this is how I write when I’m about to lose it. It’s ugly, messy and raw, but you’ll just have to deal)
Ethan had a nightmare last night. I wouldn’t pay attention to him and I loved my friends more than I loved him.
My grandparents are hurt with me because I never make time to see him.
My friends are angry with me because I don’t make time to call them.
My mom is upset because I don’t make time to help her when she needs my help.
My husband is irritated because the house is a mess.
My body is pissed off at me because I haven’t made time to take care of it and work out like I should be.
I’m feeling so confused, so worthless, like I’m horrible mother, friend, daughter, granddaughter.
There are four people in this house who depend on ME to make sure they have everything they need. It is my JOB to make sure that they have clean clothes, that they are fed properly, that they sleep on clean sheets at night, that they get to their doctor appointments, their dentist appointments, their basketball practices, their games on time.
Life with 2 growing boys and an infant is not easy. I love it, but it’s hard. It’s demanding. It is, at times, overwhelming.
There are days where I don’t even have time to take a shower.
Gabby wants to nurse, Ethan wants me to play uno, Andrew wants me to take him to buy paintballs, Gabby needs her daiper changed, Ethan needs me to clip his toenails, Andrew wants me to teach him a chord on the guitar, Gabby is crying and needs to be comforted, Ethan is pissed because I didn’t listen to his story, Andrew needs me to collect and scoop his shit. Gabby needs to eat breakfast but can’t because I have to clean the floor and the carpet because Ethan decided he’d kill all of the ants by SPRAYING ANT KILLER ALL OVER THE CARPET AND FLOOR WHERE MY DAUGHTER CRAWLS AROUND.
Then let’s throw Tony in the mix.
He needs his work clothes washed, he needs me to fax his timecard, to deposit his check, to go buy him beers because OH MY GOD HE’S ALL OUT. He needs sex, he needs his back scratched, he’s out of deodarant, he needs me to make him a dentist appointment…
By the time 9pm rolls around, I realize, wow, I haven’t showered, nor have I brushed my teeth and man, am I hungry because I didn’t have time to eat lunch but it’s too late to make something now because then I’ll be up past 10 doing the dishes and holy crap! I forgot to pay the bills and I need to do that before I go to bed, but I’m so tired and I feel like I’m going to cry because no matter how much I do all day long it’s never enough and by the time I finally crash on the sofa I know that SOMEONE IF NOT EVERYONE IN MY LIFE IS GOING TO FUCKING HATE ME BECAUSE I DON’T PAY ATTENTION TO THEM AND I’M SO SELFISH AND ALL I CARE ABOUT IS MYSELF AND HOW DARE I DON’T TALK TO THEM AT 11PM BECAUSE I’M AN ASSHOLE WHO DOESN’T DESERVE FRIENDS BECAUSE LOOK HOW I TREAT THEM?
I’m so confused right now and not quite sure how to make people in my life understand that I do love them and I’m SO DAMN SORRY for neglecting them but I obviously don’t know how to do all of this and make everyone happy. I don’t even know how to take care of myself.
And blahblahblah, everyone’s life is hard, everyone has a million people pulling them in a million different directions. I’m not trying to make my life out to be so hard that I can’t take a minute to let people know that I love them. Instead, I’m admitting I’m an idiot who gets so wrapped up in my little life here that I fail others miserably. But it’s not out of hate or malice, It’s not for lack of love… IT’S NOT.
My life revolves around those THREE. Count them, ONE, TWO, THREE children and I try my best every minute of everyday to make them happy.
In the process, I’ve neglected the other people in my life, and I don’t know how to make it right.
I don’t want to fall apart here, I’m trying to hold it together, but with each person that tells me how disappointed they are in me, with each person that reminds me what a failure of a human being I am, it’s getting harder to do.
I might even have a drinky!
Getting ready to go out is easy when you literally only have ONE thing that fits you.
I only mention “going out” because… I’M GOING OUT TONIGHT!! With a friend! No kids! To see Jamie Kennedy at the Improv! DID YOU HEAR THAT?! I SAID I’M GOING OUT TONIGHT!
I’m trying to play it cool and not act too excited about this, but… I’M GOING OUT TONIGHT! WITH A FRIEND! NO KIDS! TO SEE JAMIE KENNEDY!
I hope he doesn’t suck, because, man, I painted my toe nails for him!
I should finish getting ready now, because, I’M GOING OUT TONIGHT!
So, like, tell me doc, exactly HOW BIG do the balls swell?
The Pokey Strike WORKED!
The first thing Pighunter did when he got home from work today was called and made an appointment to get snipped!
Of course, he has to go to a class first (which, I get to attend! Oh, the fun I will have!) That class is booked until August, and we’re on a “waiting list”. But hey, at least he made the damn phone call.
Hopefully, before the end of the year, his penis will no longer be a Weapon of Mass Fertilaztion and he can “stuff my enchilada” as many times as he wants and… NO BABIES!
When he made the call, I just sat there thinking “Wow, he really DOES want to have sessual relations with me!”
I am THIS CLOSE to being able to have sex again without saying things like “I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU IF THAT THING BREAKS”
My vagina is so happy. (Yes, Melly, she’s smiling.)
Decisions, decisions.
Nothing quite as awesome as getting poked first thing in the morning.
With a needle…
(remember? Tony’s Weapon of Mass Fertilization is still “active” so, no pokey pokey from him allowed! That’s right, I went on Pokey Strike until he makes an appointment. I had to take drastic measures, people.)
The nurse asked me how I was doing as she looked for a vain “I’m ok. I’d rather not be getting poked this early in the morning, but…”
“Well, everyone has to get poked every once in a while” She replied
“And not always the good kind of poke, either” I shot back.
Oh, how she laughed. Good thing she wasn’t apostolic, I thought to myself, she might not have appreciated it.
Doctor ordered some tests to find out what’s wrong with me, but based on the 5 pages of “symptoms” I read him, he believes that I have acid reflux. Call me crazy, but I think symptom #15-(Throwing up in my mouth a little everyday), is what he based that belief upon. That would explain me waking up feeling as if I can’t breathe and then panicking and my heart racing.
He said something about “cutting out caffeine”, “avoiding spicy foods” and “losing weight”, but I was too “busy being in denial” to know for sure.
He also said he wanted to put me on some meds, but can’t because I’m still making and administering Tittymilk. I now have to decide if I want to stop the Tittymilk so that I can take the meds. I’ve decided I’ll wait until after the results of the bloodwork come in before I make that decision. I’ve also decided to use the word “decide” as often as possible in this paragraph. It’s my blog, I’m allowed to make that decision. The decision is mine. Because I decide what I do with my body. It is not the governments decision to decide.
There are several reasons why I don’t want to stop breastfeeding.
It’s convienient. Especially when Lil’ G decides to wake up at 4 am. I can bring her into bed, Whip A Tit out and we both fall back asleep. Everyone’s a winner. Even Tony, because he gets to SEE the titty! Awesome!
I would miss the experience. I love when she nurses. I love the closeness, the way she smiles at me while she’s doing her business, the way she’ll rest her hands on My Big Ones, the sound of her breath as she’s drinking. I would miss that, but I know it has to come to an end sometime.
I’m also afraid of what is going to happen to My Big Ones after the milk dries up. I was T-R-A-U-M-A-T-I-Z-E-D after I stopped nursing Andrew.
Three days after I had stopped, I started undressing to get in the shower. I took my bra off, looked up in the mirror and HOLY SHIT! MY BOOBS!
My breasts, once full, plump and large, were now two flat, deflated, pieces of skin with nipples pointing towards the floor.
“TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONYYYYYYYYY” I screamed.
“MY BOOOOOOOOOOOOBS!” It was as if someone took a needle to them, popped them and let all of the air out. What was left was the ugliest pair of boobs my eyes had ever beheld.
I cried. And cried. And cried again.
All day.
Everyday, for the next few weeks.
Now, back then, they were ONLY a D. I can’t imagine when will happen to my E cup boobs. THEY WILL HANG TO THE FLOOR! I will have to fold them up to stuff them in my bra! I will have a bra full o’ skin n’ nips. No actual boob! Gross!
I’m scared. And I’m not even kidding.
I have an idea! I’ll “quit nursing” but never actually “quit making milk” by secretly pumping everynight after the family goes to bed. No one will ever know! Well, no one except the entire World Wide Web!
Sometimes, I am able to put aside my stupidity and let a little genius shine through.
I just hope everything comes back normal so I don’t have to make any decisions that might cause the deflation of my boobs.
Yo quero un strudel
Why do people act so shocked when I tell them I don’t speak Spanish? What is UP with that?
Yes, I’m HALF Mexican, but, um, I wasn’t raised in Mexico. I was raised in here in the good ol U.S of A. And? My mom is WHITE. I’m only part Mexican, people. The other part is German/Croation. I like to call myself a Germican.
My dad never spoke Spanish in our house. Always English. That’s not totally true. We’d say “tortilla” and “chonis” and “cola”, but other than that? Straight up English in our casa.
I can’t ever recall anyone being shocked or outraged that I don’t speak German. Never ONCE have I had anyone been all up in my grill when we pass by a Der Wienerschnitzel.
“What’s a shnitzel?” You’re German! YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT!” But DIOS MIO, if we pass by Casa Jiminez and I can’t tell The Whitey in the car what a Jiminez is? THE OUTRAGE!!
You’re half mexican! You should know what a Jiminez is!
Really? I should? Well, HOW COME YOU DIDN’T ASK ME WHAT A SCHNIZTEL IS WHEN WE PASSED DER WIENERSCHNITZEL? Why are you singling out My Mexican?
“Well… your DAD IS MEXICAN!”
I yiyiiiii! You’re correcto! I totally forgoto! I’ve been so busy doing gigs with my Mariachi bando, that completely SLIPPED MY MINDo! Thank you SO much for reminding me! Can I treat you to a burrito?
What’s with the outrage, people?