Today has been one of “those days.”
Gabby is sick. Double ear infections. And? She’s working on EIGHT teeth. My heart aches for her. I finally was able to suck enough snot out to allow her to breathe a little, and she is now taking a nap. (Let’s see how how long she actually STAYS asleep.)
I’ve been holding the girl for 2 days straight now. My back is aching, I smell like puke, pit and chex mix AND I have gas.
I’m not complaining though, I’m just “tellin’ it like it is”.
8 minutes. She slept for 8 minutes.
Before I go, I would like to leave you with todays Self Portrait.
Category Archives: This Thing Called Life
To answer the question…
So, how’s that “I’m going to quit my job and be the BEST stay at home mom I can be!” working out for ya?
THAT’S HOW, beyotches.
What about all that sewing you were talking about? You know, how you were going to sew curtains for the living room and hem up your kids pants and make covers for your kitchen chairs… How’s THAT coming along?
How does it LOOK like it’s coming along? But watch out, once I figure out how to thread that bitch up, it’s ON.
P is for paranoia?
I wrote this post on December 1, 2003.
I was scared when I wrote it because those were all signs that I was pregnant, and I wasn’t trying to “be” pregnant. BUT, as it turned out, I was pregnant. (Stupid ass “rhythm method”)
Now, let me take that list and revise it for today
My boobs hurt.
I’m tired.
I’m naseous.
I gag everytime I brush my teeth.
Oh… and I’m late.
And scared. Very scared.
Now, every single one of the things on that list can be explained away.
Boobs hurt? Of course they do! They’re being sucked on, bit on, scratched, straight up abused on a daily basis.
Tired? Well, who wouldn’t be? I’m the mother of THREE children. THREE OF THEM. Two of them are in sports, one of them happens to be an INFANT. DUH!
Naseous? When you don’t get to eat your first meal until the baby decides to take a nap (which lately, has been, almost never) it’s understandable if you start feeling naseuated, right? TELL ME I’M RIGHT!
Late? Not a big deal, because I’m breastfeeding and when one is breastfeeding, one’s cycle is affected and it’s normal to skip periods. I think. So I heard. I SWEAR I READ THAT SOMEWHERE.
Did I say I could explain away every one of those symptoms?
I lied. Because there is one that can NOT be explained away because the ONLY time it has ever happened to be is when I was The “P” word.
I GAG EVERYTIME I BRUSH MY TEETH.
But maybe that has something to do with tittymilk, right?
Please tell me that has something to do with the fact I produce tittymilk. Or maybe it’s because I rarely have time to brush my teeth these days, so when I do, the back of my throat is like “WHA?”
That could totally be it.
I find it hard to believe, with all of the “wardin’ off of the cock” that’s been going on since Gabby was born, I could actually be “The P Word”. Seriously. This just has to be a case of my mind and body messing with me. And I do mean HAS TO BE, because, if it’s not, “Someone” is going to be B-U-S-T-E-D. (And when I say busted, I mean BANNED FROM MY VAGINA FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE)
Sad
I had started to write a post explaining the reason why I haven’t posted lately (I didn’t want people worrying about me, thinking I had drowned in all of the rain!) I found it to be quite hilarious, because it involves really funny pictures of my not so funny daughter, but as I was finishing the post up, there was a knock on my door…
A neighbor of mine, who happens to be a friend of mine, who happens to have a son the same age as my oldest son, who happens to have been one year younger than I am stopped breathing this morning and died.
Now, I can’t stop crying and I don’t feel right posting something that makes me laugh, because I don’t feel like laughing anymore.
(I’ve saved the post/explanation for another day…)
“Today was just an average day, well, except for the part where I LOVED THE GREATEST MAN IN THE UNIVERSE!”
Last night I found one of my old paper journals. It was from the year 1990, the year that we got married.
GOOD LORD. I can’t read it without cringing in shame at the “gag me with a spoon” factor of the words I had written.
I was 18 at the time, but let me assure you, I sounded more like… 13.
Here are a few snippets…
“many, many good and wonderful qualities”
“Tonight was my bestest friends bridal shower”
“P.S only 3 months, 17 days til I marry my precious Tony!”
“It was ‘Pig Out’ day at work today and BOY! Did I make a pig out of myself (And I said I was going to fast! Oh well, tomorrow!)”
“I was in la la land all day today! I LOVE TONY!”
“I was thinking back to when we first met. I didn’t like him, I thought he was weird and he looked like a rat. Now I love him more than anyone on this earth!”
“Completely and hopelessly in love!”
“Praise the LORD! I’m so lucky!”
“He hung up on me. I was CRUSHED but I did a terrible thing! I called him back and hung up on HIM! I wanted him to know how it felt!”
(Should I stop? Are you throwing up yet?)
“My Tony”
“I’m so glad we have a forgiving relationship” (jajajja)
“I love him so much and I pray that I NEVER make him mad again!” (HAHAAAA)
“She said she’s not going to be in our wedding and I was mad so I said ‘GOOD’!!!!”
“Help me Lord!”
“I know he’s been hurt in the past, but in a way? I’m sort of glad because NOW he’ll know what REAL LOVE is!” (haaaaaa)
“I’m so glad he was born! :-)”
Ok. I’ll stop now.
The funniest part about it is how the things I found SO EFFING CUTE about Tony back then are the things that annoy the shit out of me now. Things like him “being the question asker” (my exact words). In my journal, I wrote about how funny I found it that he always asks questions in conversations. Just last night I yelled at him to QUIT INTERROGATING ME! And now I feel guilty about it because, I used to LOVE that about him. Then again, back then, he could have held my face against his ass crack and made me inhale his farts and I would have thought it was bestest, most cutest thing in the world!
Ah, young love. Young dumb love.
Does that make me “rebellious?”
Guess what I’m getting ready to do right now!
I am getting ready to go to church.
And not just any church. I’m going to my Dad’s church!
And, I’m going to wear JEANS. And a TSHIRT. To MY DAD’S CHURCH.
The church that preaches wimmins shouldn’t wear jeans and t-shirts, but dresses and headcoverings.
The “brothers” and “sisters” are going to be p-i-s-s-e-d.
A short story by a stay at home mom forced to live on a budget because she had to quit her job to stay home to take care of her Unexpected Joy.
And yes, I called people to brag about it and now I’m posting about it and yes, I think this means I’ve “officially” turned into my mother. But It’s all good, because I gots mad cash left over to spend on socks and underwear for my man.
Don’t be jealous, ok?
I’ll make this short and to the point.
Gabby? Still very sick, but not in the hospital. Smiling more, still coughing and wheezing. Is going to be ok.
HMO’s? Suck.
Me? Not sleeping for 3 nights in a row is AWESOME!!!
My tits? Still look like this.
My house? Smells like snot, eggs and lysol with just a hint of B.O. And? It’s filthy.
You?
photograph
I just found a picture. A picture of a perfect little boy. He couldn’t have been more than a year old. Kneeling next to him was a beautiful, young woman with a smile on her face. This wasn’t an ordinary smile, either. This woman was bursting with pride and happiness. What a perfect picture.
And suddenly, I felt as though someone punched me in the stomach and knocked the living shit out of me.
The woman in that picture was someone I used to know.
The woman in the picture was me. A very young me.
How beautiful I used to be. How genuinely happy and full of life and love I once was.
What happened to that woman?
Life happened. Some good things, and a lot of bad things. Things that have robbed her of the pure smile. She’s become a woman burdened with shame, guilt, regret and depression. Somewhere along the way, she got lost and hasn’t quite found her way back.
I mourn for that young girl I see in the picture. I mourn for all she’s lost. All she’s destroyed with her stupidity and selfishness and stubborness.
As I cry, this precious little girl who I’m holding in my arms, my daughter, wraps her arms around my neck and nuzzles her little face against mine and although she can’t speak, she tells me “it’s ok, Mommy, I love you”. Her soft skin against my aging, dried out skin tells me to forgive myself, to leave the past where it lies and to move forward. Her sweet breath against my cheeks tells me that I’m not all bad, that I’m just human. Her gentle little coos in my ear tell me that I am worthy of love and that no matter what, she loves me, her brothers love me, her daddy loves me and I should love myself.
“Forgive yourself”, she says.
I don’t know if I can. I’ve hurt people I love. I’ve said things I can’t take back.
At times, it feels as though I’ll never be that beautiful woman again. I’ll always be tinged with ugliness. I’ll always be the depressed girl just trying to make it through life.
Then I feel my daughters tiny little fingers grab ahold of my hair, and it’s as if she’s grabbed ahold of my heart. I am aware of the fact that at this moment, I have to make a choice. A choice to stay stuck in the past, boggled down with guilt and sadness, to never move forward, doomed to repeat the mistakes of my past. Or, to forgive myself and to live in THIS moment. To live FOR the moment. To rediscover the joy that is my life NOW, in the present and to build on that for a future full of great things.
I have a choice.
I choose forgiveness, love, happiness, new experiences. I choose to live for the moment, expecting only the best for the road that lies ahead. Never looking back, except to reflect on how far I’ve come.
My God, it’s never been clearer to me than it is at this moment, she wasn’t an “accident” she was God’s gift to me and that gift is my second chance.
Dude, where’s my card?
Fourteen years ago today, I married that sexy hunk o’man right thurrrr. I was only 19 years old. I had no idea what was in store for me, nor was I aware of HOW BIG his GLASSES really were, because I was too blinded by the “L” word. All I knew was that I was completely in love with him and I wanted to grow old with him.
In these past 14 years, we’ve made love like crazy, made THREE beautiful children, fought about money, meat, toilet paper, broken ovens, toe nails clippings, laundry, his mom, his need to mention “he has a tubesteak for me” every five minutes, bills, my sloppiness, etc, we’ve seen movies together, comforted each other, sang to each other, rubbed each others back and various other body parts, supported each other, let each other down, picked each other right back up. We’ve been through so much together and through it all, we’ve never stopped loving each other. Sure, there were times we COULDN’T STAND EACH OTHER. Times where we’ve questioned our love, but it’s always been there.
We’re not a perfect couple, not even close, but the thing I love about us? We don’t GIVE A SHIT about perfect. We likes keepin’ it real, yo.
Happy Anniversary, you big dorky Pig Hunter.
Te Amo, Mi amor.