The past few days I’ve not felt very good. I’m not sick, but I’ve been very sensitive about things. I cry easily, I get upset quickly, I feel frustrated at the stupidest things. Last night, Tony finally said something about it.
“You’re not doing well, are you sweetie?” He asked.
I broke down. No, I’m not. I’m not worried yet, I know everyone else is though.
“Oh, could this be the post partum depression her doctor warned her about?”
No. It’s not. If you know me at all, you know that I know depression. You know it nearly ruined my life last year. I promised myself if I ever started to feel that way again, I would reach out for help immediately instead of pulling away from the world like I before.
I just think the drastic changes in my life are taking a toll on my body and my mind. The lack of sleep, learning how to divide my time and affection between three children while trying not to ignore my husband in the process. Then there’s the housework, the bills, the homework, family, friends, animals. Oh, and let’s not FORGET THE GRASS that needs to be watered. I just feel extremely overwhelmed right now. Happy, in love, blessed… but overwhelmed.
Tony recognised it because I’ve been extremely sensitive these past few days and I’m normally not the sensitive type. I’m taking things people say to me the wrong way. I’m interpreting everything as a put down, an insult, as mean, as harsh, etc. I recognize that it’s ME and not everyone else. Sensitive y is not a fun person to live with. (I can NOT believe I just referred to myself in the third person.)
I am not depressed, I’m just in a funk and I’m not sure how to snap out of it.
this helps (THE COMMENTS!!!), because it makes me laugh really hard, but perhaps me and the family need a night out of this house…

Last night I was trying to sleep, when I was awoken by THE SOUND OF WELDING in my garage. I looked at the clock and it was ONE IN THE MORNING.
I freaked out. I opened the front door and screamed at Tony.
“What the HELL are you doing? Do you know what time it is?”
Who the hell welds shit at ONE IN THE MORNING?
Pig hunters, I guess.
He tells me he was just “finishing something up” and I tell him,
“YOU’RE A FREAK.”
I was just about to slam the front door, when my 4-ft Selena murderer look alike neighbor comes running up my walk way. She was having a panic attack.
She started begging Tony to call the police because her sons and husband were fighting. She could barely talk, I thought she was going to faint. She said she couldn’t take it anymore and she wanted the police to take them away.
5 minutes later, the cops show up and she goes crazy, screaming and yelling, she opens her front door and her 2 little dogs TAKE OFF down the street. It was hilarious, they were like “We’re getting the HELL out of this house”.
It was the most insane night ever. Needless to say, I didn’t get any sleep last night and it looks like I won’t be getting any sleep this morning because THERE ARE FUCKING GARDENERS MOWING HER LAWN. It’s not even 8am, ON A SATURDAY.
What the hell, man, just… what the HELL?
(ps. would anyone believe me if I said that I decided to climb into bed inspite of the noise from the gardeners and when I tried to lay down, I couldn’t, because there was a GIGANTIC RIFLE laying on my bed??????? Probably not, huh?)

We never found the dogs last night. I couldn’t sleep all night, worrying that they might get hit by a car or beat up by other dogs.
I woke up around 6 to go look for them again. I found Snoop up the street, wondering with a dog that WASN’T Willie. He was soaking wet, covered in mud. He looked pretty traumatized.
“Where’s Willie?” I started crying. They always stay together.

I put the dumbass dog on my lap so he didn’t get my car full of mud and drove home crying all the way. As I’m walking up the sidewalk, I see paw prints on my walkway. Could it be? YES! Willie was at the front door waiting for me!

I wanted to kick them and hug them all over at the same time. I hated thinking something bad had happened to them all night long.

And if it wasn’t bad enough that I was worrying about my dogs all night, I had to deal with my fucking RUDE neighbors. They were partying all night, which I’m used to and I tolerate, but when the walls in my house are literally shaking from their music being so loud at THREE THIRTY IN THE MORNING?

Hell no.

I screamed out the window. “CAN YOU TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN??”

Tony got mad, said I should have just called the police. A very pregnant woman is MUCH scarier than the cops. Yes?
They turned it down, but not off, it went on until after 5 this morning. What the hell?

I don’t mind people having fun, partying, playing their music loud. I really don’t. But I think playing it that loud at 3 in the morning (and screaming “OH PLAY THAT SONG, FUCKERS, I FUCKING LOVE THAT SONG, PUT IT BACK FUCKERS” at the top of your lungs) is beyond rude.

Now that my dogs are safe and the walls have stopped shaking, I shall go back to bed and try to put my throbbing crotch back to sleep.

I swore to myself that once I stopped working and became a Stay at Home Mom, I would always make sure to look presentable when my husband came home from work. I swore as tempting as it is to stay in my pj’s all day and not brush my teeth unless I had to go somewhere, that I wouldn’t do it. That I would always try to look nice and smell fresh and clean when he walked in the door.
Well, that lasted a whole 2 weeks.
There’s just something about the “freedom” of NOT HAVING to get dressed if I don’t want to that keeps me from getting dressed and grooming myself in the mornings. I have to stop it though, before he leaves me for some “freshly showered, made up, well dressed WHORE!”
Who am I kidding? He’ll never leave, it’s every man’s dream to come home to this…

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I have two boys that I’m busy trying to raise into decent, respectful, loving human beings. I have a little girl growing inside of me wreaking havoc on my body, who I’m trying to do my best to keep safe while making sure I’m ok as well. I have a husband who needs nurtured and cared for who I’m trying to keep a happy home for inspite of my aches and pains.
Come to think of it, I have this really amazing life that needs tending to so I don’t have time or energy to care about stupid people who are hellbent on trying to provoke me. It’s just pathetic.
All I do is write about my life, my feelings, my baby, my kids, my hopes and dreams and my aching crotch. Some people hate me for that. So be it. I don’t care.
I care about my children, my husband, the well being of my friends and family, the soldiers and their families, my dogs and my rabbit. I care about getting Gabby’s room ready in time for her arrival, I care about making my house a home for all of these wondeful people I get to share my life with. Those are the things I spend my time worrying about.
Thank you to everyone for the well wishes, they mean a great deal to me. Now, it’s peepee and back to bed for me.

Sadness consumes me.
Guilt haunts me.
If only I had…
If only you knew…
If only I could…
Those are the regrets that continually raced through my mind since I heard the news, the sentences completed a hundred different ways…
I walked around all day hoping it was a bad dream. Hoping it was a sick joke. Hoping it was a big mistake. The reality quickly set in that it wasn’t any of those things. It was reality.
I do believe that I must let go of the guilt and the regret because that’s not what I want to feel when I think of you.
I want to remember how you always made me laugh. How you always thought of me in such a wonderful way and weren’t afraid to tell me how special you thought I was. I want to remember how much you loved ma’ Melly. I want to remember the thoughtful words you’d send my way when you knew I was hurting.
So as of this minute I let go of the what if’s and the regret that have consumed me and replace them with the wonderful memories I have of you.
Your words will be forever inscribed in my heart and soul.
That’s the way I want it to be, and I think you would want that too.
y:
You KNOW what’s going on.
You’ve lived with it for years.
And you’ve always done a damned good job of getting through it.
I have four other friends who have the same sort of thing going on.
Minus the baby part.
And the loving husband and family part.
And they don’t have the friendship of Mrs. Del Toro (Melly).
She’ll just keep calling you, and bugging you, until she’s got you laughing and feisty again.
And THAT’S pretty cool.
This blog thing is pretty cool too.
All these people that come here, care about you.
Some may be nosey, out looking for a train wreck.
But most of them are sincere.
And they DO care.
I have a head full of jokes, that won’t work here at all.
I’ve learned over the years, when to shut the fuck up.
Which I’ll do now.
And let you know that if I can help in any way?
You’ve got it.
-Waistdog

Rick’s death has devestated me.
My husband doesn’t understand. He asks me why I’m crying. “You didn’t know him.” He says.
Yes, I did. I had never met him in person, no. But I knew him from his funny, kind, thoughtful emails. The comments he’d leave on posts I’d write. He always made me laugh and made me feel like I mattered as a person.
People who don’t have online friendships don’t understand, people like my husband. They don’t get it. They don’t realise that you can form a bond with people you meet here, even if it is only words you type. Those words are coming from the heart of a real person.
And in Rick’s case, they came from a person who cared. A person who listened. A person who knew how to make you laugh when you didn’t feel much like laughing. A person who had a sense of humor unlike anyone I’ve ever “met.”
My new love.
I want to take a ride on his teflon coated slide.
If you are not reading Waistdog, you are missing out.
Go, read. You will laugh. You will be curious about his large penis. You will probably fall in love. Ok, maybe I took it too far, but I know you’ll laugh…
This is a post I wrote on August 18, 2003. I said if you weren’t reading him you were missing out and that’s how I felt. The first time I read the words he wrote I knew he was special. When I said “you’ll probably fall in love” I was kidding of course, but I think that I did fall in love with him. With his wit. His sense of humor. His perspective on life. And I honestly felt that if you weren’t reading what he had to say, you truly were missing out on something great.
Now I will miss him. More than I ever could have imagined I would.
Since I never said it to him while he was here, I’ll say it now.
I love you, Waisty. And for more reasons I can type through my tears. I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to get to know you more. The way Melly knew you. The way Wendy and Fran knew you. The way Jett knew you. But I knew you enough to understand that I was truly lucky to have had the pleasure of calling you friend, even if we never did meet face to face.
May you rest in peace and know that you will never be forgotten.