There better be Krispy Kreme and a pumpkin spice latte waiting for me is all I’m saying

Normally, student council is only for 4th graders and 5th graders. This year, they decided to allow ONE third grader from each third grade class to participate.
Naturally, that one third grader would be my son. Because he’s “A Leader” and “The kids look up to him” and he’s “Mr.Responsible” as well as “The Ladies Man” and “The Class Clown.”
I love that kid. Bless his fart.
I was all excited about this “student council thing” until I was informed that he has to attend a meeting a couple times a month before school at SEVEN TEN IN THE MORNING.

That’s only 20 minutes earlier than we normally leave in the morning, but, 20 minutes THAT EARLY in the morning, is like, hours to my tired soul.
And the fact that he has to be there before school actually starts, means it’s probably not a good idea to take him in my pj’s with funky pit smell. Because, you know, I’ll actually have to get out and walk him to the room so he’s not wondering around an empty campus alone.
So, now that “20 minutes” is turning into more like 30 because I’ll actually have to do things like “Shower” and “apply deodorant” (which, can I just tell you, I still have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA how much is “enough”. I know I should probably stop spreading the junk on when there is about 2 inches worth of white shit plastered on, but, deep down I’m scared, like, “What if it’s NOT ENOUGH?” Then what? So, I must apply at LEAST 10 MORE STROKES. Will I ever learn, or will I continue to go through life with huge, white, sticky balls in my pits? And what’s worse? ‘rant balls or BO? Exactly. Ok, back to the post…) “brush teeth” “put clothes on that match.”

But, seriously, 7:10 in the morning?
Outrageous.

Thank God she’s a FIERCE BEYOTCH.

Last night I chatted a little bit with The Debster.
I’ve been crying ever since.
She just found out she has Leukemia. LEUKEMIA.
I can’t even imagine being hit with that kind of news of out NOWHERE. Me, being the psychotic wimp that I am, would not be rational or calm. Deb is SO NOT LIKE ME. She sounded strong and positive. She was in full on “I’m going to fight and WIN this battle” mode and I have no doubts she’ll do just that. But the thing that is killing me inside is that she can’t be with her daughter.
I think about it and I cry so hard for her. Again, I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like for her right now. Getting hit with such drastic news and being seperated from her daughter all at once. My God.
I promised her I’d try to make her laugh as often as possible, that I’d keep in constant touch with her and that I’ll help her in any way I can. She’s going to need support, emotional and financial and I have no doubts The Internet will come through for her. (The Internet ALWAYS comes through for it’s peoples.) I also told her that I will chop all of my hair off and have a wig made out of it so that she can wear my hair! Which, um, is probably kind of creepy and is the reason she just laughed and didn’t say things like “I would LOVE to wear your hair!”
Please, keep her in your thoughts and in your prayers. Also? Please, GO, try to make the woman laugh. Shower her with love and well wishes. She needs all the love, support and Funny she can get to help her beat some Cancer Ass.

LIFE WITH KIDS IS AWESOME AND THANKS ALOT G-UNIT.

You know how I said “I have an ultrasound today at 10:40”?
Scratch that.
GABBY LOST MY FREAKING KEYS.

Like, how can I get mad at THAT FACE? And, yet, part of me wants to chuck her out the back door and lock her out for making me cry and panic and say very bad words whilst throwing things and sweating because I’m running everywhere looking for my keys (which, by the way, I STILL HAVEN’T FOUND.) and for LAUGHING AT ME while I was doing all of those things.
So, no ultrasound for me today.

And when she mentioned “no eating after midnight” a died a little inside.

Ultrasound. Today. 10:40.
Finally, I found a doctor (oh! wait! it wasn’t a doctor, it was a nurse practioner!) who actually listened to what I had to say rather than instantly declare “You have anxiety! Here! Take a pill and shutup!”.
Also? Blood work to check my liver function. Did you hear that? BLOOD TESTS! Ladies and gentlemen, we have TWO medical tests! Can I get “GLORY!?”
I’m nervous because a) I have to leave Gabby with my mom and I never really leave Gabby with anyone because she’s my angel and I love her and don’t want anything bad to happen to her and? I love her company, because she makes me laugh very hard because she is HILARIOUS with her big old front teeth and HUGE gap between those teeth and her ATTITUDE PROBLEM which, I’m sure I won’t find funny when she’s 5, but for now? LOVE it. b) What if they find something really bad? I don’t think I’m prepared for bad news. I’m prepared for them to say “everything’s fine! You’re just crazy and making it all up in your head, now HERE, take this damn pill already and SHUTUP.”
Now, I can only hope that the ultrasound screen is completely out of my view because if I can see it? I will surely see something that will make me panic and think things like “OH MY GOD THAT LOOKS LIKE A TUMOR. I’M DOING TO DIE!”
(Note: I tend to get dramatic and irrational about these things.)
I truly am thankful that someone finally listened to me and is taking this seriously.

THIS IS WHAT I LOOK LIKE WHEN I GET EXCITED.

I was hesitant about writing the post below. I thought “surely, people must be so tired of hearing about my weight loss! They’ll roll their eyes and tell me to shutup about it already!”
Oh, I was so wrong about you, Internet.

Your comments, your words of encouragement and support, they mean more to me than I can express here. I wish I could hug you all and tell you thank you. And those of you who said things like “you inspire me.” Y’all made me cry. I don’t feel very inspiring, it’s taking me FOREVER to lose it and I’ve whined and bitched about it the entire time, but, if you say my loss is inspiring to you, that it makes you feel like you can do it to, that’s AWESOME. I feel so very “WE CAN DO THIS! LET’S KICK SOME ASS, WIMMINS!” right now. It’s almost sickening how positive and motivated I feel right now. So, for that, I thank you. (Those of you fighting your own battle of The Fat, please, feel free to email me ANYTIME and we can cry, complain and motivate each other on the days we feel like we can’t continue. Or we can brag, and say things like “OMG! I lost another pound!” Ok? Ok!) See? Told you, TOTALLY EXCITED AND POSITIVE RIGHT NOW. And, while this is much better than whiny-ness, it’s kind of sickening and making me want to puke. But in a good way!
In other news….
My friend JODI. (ha! ha! I said your name. J-O-D-I.)had her baby 3 weeks early and in my “excitement mode” I was all “Let me cook you dinner tonight!” Which, I really want to do, but I am panicking because I suddenly realize that I am a horrible cook. There are only 3 things that I make that people rave about. One being Mamarosa’s green sauce chicken enchiladas with spanish rice and salsa meal. The other one being a spinach artichoke dip (which is SO EASY and is cooked in the microwave, so it doesn’t even count) the other a pasta salad (which, um, ANYONE CAN MAKE as long as they have access to some Paul Newman balsamic vinegar dressing, so, again, doesn’t really count.) So, actually,I only have ONE “speciality” that I can make that I am proud of.
I feel like such a failure of a women right now. Hello? My grandma is a MASTER CHEF. All her pasta? From scratch. Pies? From scratch.
She truly is the greatest cook I’ve ever known, (but, sadly, in her old age she doesn’t care much about “sanitation” while cooking and I’m somewhat scared to eat her food for fear of contamination.) My mother? Awesome cook. She makes the best mexican dishes and the woman is full blooded honkey.
Me? I’m all “chili cheese dogs with corn on the cob (which was frozen because I was too lazy to buy fresh!)!” Or “Hey grilled chicken and beans. Again!”
I’m so ashamed.

A very late BECAUSE I’VE BEEN SO WRAPPED UP IN SELF LATELY update

Because I’ve been so wrapped up in my own, um, numbness? I completely forgot to post an email I recieved from a reader I had put in contact with Stacey. The email was dated September 30 (Selfish ASS, I am).

 

I talked to Stacey last night. She called to let me know that she had her baby on Wednesday. She had been told that she was having a girl so she was very surprised when out “popped” a little boy. She named him Kyle Lewis. She is doing much better; she was having problems with her blood pressure being too high. The doctors have been giving here medication to keep the pressure down but it causes her to feel extremely drugged. She hopes to be released on Saturday.
She let me know that she has received lots of candles thanks to your website, and she is very grateful. The UPS man now knows her by name and even commented on how much we must love her.
I’ll update you again after I go visit her. She is going to call me once she is home. My daughter and I are so excited about getting to love up on the new baby. I am going to put together an all boy gift basket to take with us. It has been 8 years since I had a newborn, Is there anything you can think of that would be perfect for the basket (you have 2 boys, I have none J). Is there anything that you couldn’t live with out after you had Gabby?
Nicole

I really wanted to thank each and every one of you for being so generous and TOTALLY AWESOME in helping her out. I will call her tomorrow to get another update.

It’s not funny and yet, JAJAJA

I’m so angry tonight.
Angry and hurt. Not for myself, for my husband.
Ok. For myself too.
Just when I thought I had a little extra money to splurge on some Fancy Hair Product and maybe just maybe book a flight to Las Vegas for a Girls Night Out, our dryer breaks. CANCEL THOSE PLANS.
No big deal, right? Wrong. Because it ALWAYS happens to us. We get excited about something and then BOOM… Life gives us the Middle Finger.
A few weeks ago, my husband, who is the hardest working man, dedicated, NEVER CALLS IN SICK, ALWAYS DOES MORE THAN IS ASKED OF HIM, never complains, EVER, asked for a small raise and a company truck. The company is always making it a point to tell him he’s the “best operator they’ve got” but they never put their money where their mouth is. His “boss” told him he couldn’t give him a raise at the time, but that, yeah! We’ll get ya a company truck and it will be yours to do with as you please!
Tony came home so excited, feeling somewhat valued and appreciated. He was smiling from ear to ear “I’m getting a company truck babe! It’s ok if I didn’t get the raise, they’re giving me a truck, I’m ok with that!”
He’s been waiting patiently for a few weeks now. Last night, he got the call that they had a truck ready for him. They informed him it was “an older truck” and that it “needed a paint job.”
All day long, I was thinking about it, wondering “How bad could it be? Surely, they’ll not give a piece of shit truck to THEIR BEST OPERATOR! When they say ‘a paint job’, surely they mean there are a few scratches that need touched up!”
Four pm rolls around and I hear the familiar sound of boots stomping dirt on the sidewalk. I run to the door. The look on my husband’s face said it all. I KNEW it wasn’t good. He was visibly upset. I took a deep breath and I looked over his shoulder. As soon as I saw it, Iunderstood why he looked so damn depressed.
Y’all? Behold The Company Truck, Which, They Weren’t Lying, Needs A Paint Job, Among “Other” types of Jobs.

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If you don’t look good, we don’t look good…

I’ve always been somewhat obsessed with having pretty hair. When I was in high school, “Pretty” meant “Huge Bangs”, lots of hairsrpay and absolutely NO MOVEMENT WHATSOEVER.(Which, was so easy to achieve thanks to totally awesome inventions like THE SPRUSH.)
In my 20’s, I became a Hair Product Whore. A Snobby Hair Product Whore.
Hair products from Rite aid? GASP. Not on my precious, long, shiny, beautiful hair!
High end salons were the ONLY place I’d buy shampoos, conditioners and other products.
I will confess to using V05 hot oil treatments every once in a while (Haaaa! heating up “oil” in a coffee mug whilst soaping up in the shower. Oh, the memories). But, other than that, no product from Kmart would touch my hair.
Oh, how times have changed. Three kids + lots of bills + ONE INCOME= must purchase shampoo from the grocery store and ONLY if it’s on sale and I have a coupon. I’m currently using Dove shampoo and Treseme conditioner. I’ll tell people “there’s no difference! One just costs more!” BUT? I don’t really believe that. I miss my fabulous shampoos, and “deep conditioners”. I miss products that ACTUALLY MADE MY HAIR SMOOTH. (Frizz ease is ASS, people. A-S-S.)
I want to start splurging on my hair again because it’s really starting to feel coarse, and it’s not as shiny as it once was. The problem is I’m TOTALLY out of touch on all of the “good” products. I used to be all hip to that because I’d read the magazines and discuss “products” with my Very Expensive Hair Stylist. Matrix Biolage was The Shit back in the day. Is it still? Or is there something better out there now?
This is where you come in, Internet. I KNOW there are some Product Whore Snobs who read this. Why don’t you tell me what are the MUST HAVES for my hair. Products that will make my hair smell FIERCE, that will make my hair smooth as G-units Buttocks, that will make it as shiny as Tony’s forehead, that will make it thick and so on.
Feel free to throw in your favorite skin care products because this Dirty Whore Year Old Mother of Three has got some SERIOUS WRINKLE ACTION going on. OH and blotching. THE BLOTCHING.
I feel like splurging on some Good Product and I’m asking for YOUR HELP because I don’t want to waste the money I have to save on Crap.