Ahhh, Decorating eggs.
The kids love it. Me? No lovey.
Infact, I pretty much hate it.
If you take a really good look at the picture, you can see that Tony isn’t that into it, either. At least I PRETEND I’m having fun, Tony’s a little more “out there” with his hatred.
Ethan was the only one straight up LOVING it. Andrew had fun, but he’s at that age where he can’t let on that he’s enjoying it too much, because, he’s 12 and that means he’s supposed to be “too cool” for stuff like that.
Easter has always been a holiday that I love.
Not because of the candy, or the eggs, or the stupid bunny.
Because of the message of the resurrection of Christ.
It’s a message of amazing love, sacrifice and mostly, one of great hope.
I told my dad I would attend his Easter service today. Now, I’m having second thoughts. I remember when I was one of the church going people, I’d smirk at the people who’d only come to church on Christmas and Easter, never imagined I’d be one of “those people.”
I’ll probably go, for my dad’s sake. I don’t want to deal with him being upset and hurt because I didn’t show up.
I just hope Gabby doesn’t rip one during his sermon.
An Update
I wanted to say THANK YOU to all of the women who came together for Chasmyn. Thanks to your generousity, she will be having the ultrasound done TODAY. I am continually amazed of the kindess and compassion of people who read this site.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
THE CHAMBER!!!!! BARRELL!!
“I want a paintball gun for my birthday.”
Those words were the the beginning of the hell of my life these days, which is known around this house as The Great Paintball Obsession.
I should state, for “the record” that I was against the paintball gun. You see, I KNOW my son, I KNOW how he is and I KNEW that all of our “ok. We will buy you one, BUT, it is NOT to be used here at home. You can ONLY use it when we take you to a place intended for paintball shooting.” talks would go in one ear and out the other and, he’d bug the hell out of us until we let him “shoot it at the wooden fence” or “at targets in the backyard”.
The day of his birthday, Tony decided to let him shoot at the fence “JUST THIS ONE TIME” and only if he promised to wash all of the paint off.
Bad, bad move.
Everyday, since that day, which, in case you are wondering, has been 21 days, he has begged and pleaded with me, the MINUTE HE WALKS IN THE DOOR from school, if he can SHOOT THE STUPID PAINTBALL GUN.
And everyday, since that day, which, in case you are wondering, has been TWENTY ONE DAYS, I have given him the same answer.
“No. You can not.”
And everytime I have given him that answer, he has begged and pleaded and begged some more.
And everytime he has begged and pleaded, I have become extremely pissed off and raised my voice and said “I HAVE ALREADY GIVEN YOU AN ANSWER AND IF YOU CONTINUE TO ASK ME I WILL DESTROY THE GUN!”
He’ll stop asking at that point, but he’ll go to his room, take the gun out, stare at it, and THEN, he’ll come ask me if he can “just shoot AIR.”
“No. You may not shoot air.”
I finally got sick and tired of The Paintball Gun being paraded around the house and I told him I didn’t want to see it until he was going paintball shooting with his dad next weekend.
Fastforward to last night.
I’m in my room paying bills. Andrew walks in.
“Um. Mom. Um. Ok. Um. I took my paintball gun down because I wanted to check on it and I looked in the chamber and there was dirt in their so I STUCK MY FINGER IN IT to get the dirt out and um, my finger is stuck and I can’t get it out.”
I look over and see a long, shiny, round piece of metal hanging from my sons middle finger.
Being the wonderful mother I am, I started laughing, I mean, IT WAS THE MIDDLE FINGER, PEOPLE! But he started crying (and he never cries, he’s 12!) and screaming “It’s not funny! My finger is stuck! HELP ME!” I’ll admit, it took everything in me to a)not continue to laugh b)not run and get my camera c)not yell at him “THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR NOT OBEYING ME!”
Ok. I did say that, but then? I realised that his finger wasn’t going to come out of that thing and I panicked. Seriously panicked.
I have a history of doing that when my kids get hurt. It makes Tony want to kick my ass because I’m “the adult” and it’s my job to calm the kid down, not “freak him out even more”.
I walked him over to the kitchen and got out the cooking oil. This is when “Smart Man Who Knows Everything” chimes in.
“Wait. Not the oil. That could ruin the chamber barrell.”
“THE BARRELL? WHO GIVES A CRAP ABOUT THE BARRELL?! I’M TRYING TO SAVE MY SONS MIDDLE FINGER HERE! THE BARRELL!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
I greased the finger up, gently twisted and it came off. Thank GOD, I didn’t want to have to call The Law again and ask them to remove a metal object from my child’s body.
The second it slid off, Andrew started laughing uncontrollably because HIS FINGER WASN’T GOING TO HAVE TO BE CHOPPED OFF! And I dropped to the floor where I proceeded to pee a little.
It was awesome to watch Andrew WILLINGLY hand his gun over to his dad, so that we could put it out of his reach until he needs it to actually go paintball shooting. Had I known it would have taken him getting his finger stuck and almost having to have it CHOPPED OFF, I would have pointed out the dirt in the chamber 20 days ago.
scared
I’m going to say something that I haven’t been able to say outloud because I’m scared. Talking about it makes it real, and I don’t want it to be real…
I have 2 very hard lumps on my right leg. I noticed them about 3 months ago. It freaked me out, but I hoped they’d go away.
They haven’t gone away. They’re still there.
I’m scared. For the past month, I’ve not been able to sleep, I am terrified I’ll die in my sleep. SJ told me I should “talk to somebody about it” and Tony agrees. I’ve not slept in our bed for over a month. I fall asleep sitting up on the sofa, usually around 2-3 am and then I am awake again by 6.
This morning, Tony saw that I hadn’t been to bed (because my side was still made) and he asked me how I’m functioning during the day on virtually no sleep. I told him that so far I’ve managed, but I can feel it catching up to me.
I do believe that’s the reason I’ve been taking things so personally. Why I’ve been crying a lot and convinced the world is against me. I am literally on the verge of a breakdown. I suppose not sleeping for a month because I’m scared to die might have something to do with it.
I know I need to get taken care of, but fear is stopping me.
“I don’t want to know!” I say.
But I have children, I have to know so I can take care of myself. And chances are, it’s nothing like I imagine it is.
I’ve already typed “lymphoma” “bone cancer” “non-hodgkins disease” into google this morning and yes, I am now a basket case. Well, more of a basket case than I was before I went and did the search. I’m crying, I’m feeling like I want to throw up, I’m panicking, big time.
I have a tendancy to be a bit dramatic, but this is real. Believe me.
*update*
I scheduled an appointment for April 8. Thank you for trying to calm me down, I love you guys. /cheese.
Putting the “man” back in “Romance”. HAHAHA!
There are a lot of reasons why Our One and Only Date Night should have sucked.
(We were supposed to leave at 3:30 to get to the movie on time. We didn’t get out of the house until 3:55.
Ethan harrassed me the ENTIRE TIME I was getting ready. “Oh, I see how it is. You’d rather stare at a stupid movie screen THAN LOVE YOUR CHILDREN!”
Five minutes after Tony dropped me off to buy the tickets for Hitch, it started POURING RAIN and I did NOT have an umbrella.
I was freezing the entire movie because I was SOAKING WET.
Everytime I called to check on the kids, I could hear Gabby SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER in the background. Apparently, “she’s TOO attached” to me.
We didn’t get to go out to eat because GABBY WAS SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER and I couldn’t bear to leave her there another minute.)
However, I am happy to say, it totally did NOT suck.
You know why it didn’t suck even though it should have sucked?
Because, for 2 hours, I got to hold my husband’s hand without having to let go so I could wipe an ass, whip out a tit, break up a fight, clean up a spill… oh. and? KEVIN JAMES!
Awesomeness. Maybe next time we’ll get to have sex.
Maybe.
Speaking of “awesomeness”…
Don’t let my one chance suck.
I love spending time with my children**. I genuinely enjoy their company. They make me laugh, with their wit, their charm and of course, their Great Farting Skills. They are my true source of happiness.
THAT SAID…
I need a night out with my husband! Let me rephrase that.
I DESPERATELY NEED A NIGHT OUT WITH MY HUSBAND, ALONE, WITHOUT KIDS, OR I MIGHT LOSE MY MIND! OR, EVEN WORSE, I MIGHT DIE!
No, seriously. I might.
I love my children, I adore them, life would be meaningless without them, but at the same time, I love my husband and I miss him. I need some time with him. Alone. And by be “alone” I do NOT mean “have sex”. I mean “Go see a movie” or “Go out to eat without having to whip out a boob for Gabby to eat”.
You know what I’m sayin?
Now, here’s the part where I ask for your help. We haven’t been out together since November and before then, I couldn’t even tell you the last time we had a night out. And? I’m pretty sure it’ll be another 6 months before we have another opportunity to do this, so, I do NOT want to waste the night on a stupid movie.
For those of you asses who are lucky enough to go out and see movies (yeah, YOU ARE AN ASS TO ME) Can you please tell me what movies you’d recommend and which ones are so bad that I’d want to cut people up for wasting my ONE NIGHT OUT on?
These are the movies I WANT to see…
Be Cool.
Hitch. (Because… KEVIN JAMES a.k.a Doug Heffernon a.k.a My Pretend Boyfriend)
Million Dollar Baby
Hide and Seek.
Please, if you’ve seen any of these and they sucked, tell me. I only get one night out every six months, I’d like to have it NOT SUCK.
**All of my children are not represented in this picture. I do have one more who happened to be at school during this “photo session”. It’s very important to me that people recognize THREE BABIES where pushed through my vagina.
Beat that!
As I was standing in line at Starbucks, I overheard 2 women, (who I am tempted to refer to as “bitches” simply because they, unlike me, did not smell like puke) talking about their jobs.
“I’m so important at my job.blahblahblah. I made a big sale last week blahblahblahfuckingblah.”
It took everything in me to not turn around and interrupt their conversation with the following.
“Oh yeah? Well, 30 minutes ago, I fixed the dishwasher all by myself! WITH A BUTTERKNIFE! UP YOURS!”
F-A-T
Recently, I’ve run into several people that I hadn’t seen in quite a while. All of their reactions were exactly the same.
“I didn’t even recognize you”
And each time, I said the same thing.
“Of course you didn’t, I’m FAT. I don’t even recognize myself sometimes”
Judging by their reactions, it’s not ok to be honest. “Noooo, that’s not it. It’s… it’s… it’s…”
“I’m fat. Last time you saw me, I wasn’t fat!”
“Well, no, um, well, uh…”
DAMN IT. Why can’t people just be honest and say “Well, yeah. You are. But I STILL LOVE YOU!”
It’s not like I’m saying “Well, because I’m an axe-murdering prostitute and last time you saw me, I wasn’t an axe-murdering prostitute!”
I’m saying THE TRUTH.
If I was 140 pounds the last time you saw me and I’m now 200 pounds, well… that’s PROBABLY why you don’t recognize me.
You read that right, I’m 200 pounds. Let’s go ahead and get that out in the open and out of the way right now.
My daughter is 7 months, I have ONLY LOST 50 pounds.
Basically? I suck and am failing big time with my weight loss. Remember when I was kicking much ass with my weight loss and I was all “I’ve changed and I’m GOING TO DO THIS!”? Umm, yeah. Here we are in MARCH and I’ve only lost another 9 since then.
Suck. Fail. Suck.
I’m ashamed. I’m embarassed. I’m disgusted with myself. What else is new? Yawn. At least I’m honest about it.
So, when I run into people, and they’re all “I didn’t recognize you.” I can’t help but answering with “Well DUH, I’M FAT AND STOP ACTING LIKE THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU MEANT.”
It annoys me. Why can’t people be honest about it? I know, they feel bad, but please?! Stop with the “No, you’re not fat. You just had a baby.”
STOP IT. I did NOT just have a baby. I had a baby SEVEN MONTHS AGO.
Just fucking stop it.
People are just trying to be nice, I suppose. But it’s not nice. It’s… I don’t know what it is, but I wish people would just stop.
The moral of this story?
If you should ever see me in public and I say “Hi! I’m Y and I’m fat!” Just say “Yes, yes you are”.
Thumb WAY up.
You are looking at the greatest joy in my life right now.
My husband holding our daughter.
The way she smiles at him. The way she grabs his neck and pulls herself close to him. The way she giggles when he looks at her. The way she just loves him and the way he loves her right back times 1000.
There are no words to describe the happiness and fufillment I feel when I watch them together.
We’ll see how true that is when she’s 15 and I tell her “No!” and she’s all “DADDY SAID I COULD… SO SCREW YOU!”
But until that fine day, I will enjoy watching the two of them together, her totally owning him and him loving every minute of it.
metamorphosis?
It’s a gorgeous outside right now. I went outside to talk to my man and sip on my venti, iced, soy, white mocha. I closed my eyes and felt the warm sun shine on my pale skin. I miss that so much, sitting outside, soaking up the sun, it felt so good.
I listened to my husband talk, his voice soothed me. He reassured me everything is going to be ok. He’s so happy I’m working on getting better. He worries about me, but he doesn’t run away and hide. He’s right there, next to me, telling me it will be ok. He is a good man.
I could hear my children playing in the front yard. Their laughter made me smile. I remember those days when I was a kid and everything was so simple and fun. Not a care in the world, except who’s team I would be on when we played games or if Jimmy, the neighborhood hunk, would notice me that day, maybe even smile at me. I miss that childlike innocence.
It’s amazing how sometimes happiness is literally as close as your own backyard, but you just can’t see it because you’re too afraid to open the door and experience it. Once you do, you can’t understand why you have been denying yourself that kind of joy.
The simple things in life, I forgot how important they really are.
I’m so glad I was reminded of them today.
Why can’t I write like that anymore? Not that I think that was great writing, but at least I was able to capture what I was feeling at the moment… Why can’t I seem to express what’s happening in my mind, in my heart, in my life without resorting to writing about the ripping of a fart? Oh yeah…THAT’S WHY. My life has changed completely and I suppose it’s only natural that my writing would reflect that change.
Right?
RIGHT?!
(I wasn’t even able to finish THIS post because “someone” was sitting next to me PUSHING POOP OUT. I only tell you this because I’d hate for you to blame the fact I can’t write anymore on ME.)