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.

I can’t believe how the news of Waisty is affecting me.
I have this overwhelming guilt for not responding to the last email he sent me. I see it sitting in my inbox and it’s almost haunting me.
He was always kind to me. Very kind. And always made me laugh. Now I feel as though I didn’t appreciate the person he was the way I should have.
I feel like I let a friend down. And it’s tearing me up inside.
You know I how often say that I’m not a very good friend?
Yeah. Once again I think I can say that and know it’s true. Only this time there’s nothing I can do to make it right.

I do not know how to use my brothers blog here. I am a little stressed. Richard (Waistdog) died at 2pm this afternoon. Please help me reach his contacts and let them know. He loved you all.
I need help here dealing with his contacts.
I can’t believe he is gone. We were going to scout wood in his big red truck tomorrow.
You can post this on his blog or mail me direct.
Thanks, Bob
That is a comment left on Rick’s (Waistdog) blog. I’m so confused right now. I don’t want to believe it’s true, but… how could it not be?
If anyone knows anything, please email me. This is heartbreaking…
*update*
Sweetie. It’s true. I just got off the phone with the funeral home–they haven’t made arrangements yet, it’s pending the cornor’s report. I think my heart just keeps breaking over and over about this. I can’t believe it.
-skits

I have this picture in a frame on my entertainment center. I have always loved this picture because of the love you can clearly see between my son and his great grandmother. I think that was the saddest part of her death yesterday, watching my little boys cry as they kissed her goodbye. Ethan told me he felt sorry for his grandpa because “his mommy is dead”. He quickly comforted himself by saying “at least Granny can still watch over Grandpa”.
I know that it’s the natural cycle of life. I know she lived a full life. I know she was an amazing woman. I know that there are many wonderful memories I have with her that I can think back upon. I know that she’s at peace now. The tears I cry are not out of despair, but because I will miss her. I can’t ever sit and talk to her again. I will never hear her precious laugh again. I will never hear her tell me how much she loves my boys again. I will never watch her dance again. I will never hear her sing again. Mostly, I’m sad for my dad because no matter how old she was, no matter how full of a life she lived, no matter what, he no longer has a momma.
I’m ok. I understand how life works, but Grandma’s are precious and losing her still hurts. I know it’s not a tragedy, but it’s still a loss of something very dear.
Thank you for your kind words and know that I’m fine, just a little sad.

My Grandmother, Mercedes, died this evening. She would have been 98 years old next month.
I’m experiencing so many emotions at this moment, so I’m just going to be quiet and think of the beautiful, strong woman she was and not the weak, old, fragile women I just kissed goodbye in a hospital bed.
I love you, Granny.

I’m going through a stage. A stage of looking through old pictures and remembering the past. I love to do that once in a while. I especially love looking at pictures of my boys when they were babies. Oh, how everything was right with my world back then.
Today, I came across a picture of me and Tony. I remember the day we took it. He had come over to my parents house to visit me, and we were outside joking around. My sister had a new camera and she asked to take a picture of us. Tony grabbed me and held me and she snapped away.
I will never forget how happy I was at that very moment. Happy and completely in love. I knew already, at the young age of 18, he was the man I was going to marry. What I didn’t know were the hard times that were ahead for us. The many struggles we’d go through together. Young love, if only it could stay that way forever.
I certainly NEVER imagined a day where he couldn’t pick my ass up like that again. I don’t think he could lift up one thigh now, even if he tried with all of his might. But then again, I never imagined I’d be married to a man with a man who’s going bald. So I guess we’re even.