Wednesday, August 31, 2005
I am crying here. You can't tell it, which I guess is good so that my wedding photos aren't all with raccoon eyes.
As I am uploading these I am reminded of something. It's disturbing how comfortable I am with having puke on me nowadays. I'll be lucky if I shower tonight even. I wiped it up with a burp cloth, and that feels good enough to me.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
A Census Taker Tried To Test Me Once
I want to eat my baby.
Seriously! Every time I pick him up I have this primal urge to gnaw his face off. What the hell is up with that? I read once where our instinct to kiss babies is based in science, as it helps to pass on all the lovely protective antibodies. So that makes perfect sense. But nowhere in my vast experience have I read what makes me want to go dingo and eat my baby.
I've caught myself with Jack's entire foot or hand in my mouth making famished pygmy noises. If I didn't already know that I was an insane person I'd be highly concerned. Do you do this internet? Do you "jokingly" gnaw on cheeks, chin, nose and ears? Or are you now all individually calling your local police to track me down and have me committed? That's why all my friends are online. I am afraid people would put me away if they knew me for real. I kid, in a way. I also digress.
As far as I know cannibal doesn't run in my family, though my Mexican roots could in theory be traced back to the Aztec, and those were some bloodthirsty mo-fo's. I promise if the urge becomes too strong that I will get help. I will go to the crazy hospital and say "Doctor, you have to help me. I keep laughing at A Cry in the Dark and trying to figure out what body part to substitute for baby carrots*".
Help me internet. I'm sick.
*Fingers and toes, duh.
I don't want my pee to smell funny
I was reading the South Beach diet book this morning, and all the breakfasts involve juice of some kind. Often tomato or vegetable which, hell no I am not drinking. Also? It listed decaf coffee or tea. Now, do I have to drink that? I don't like either one. Decaf coffee is like non-alcoholic beer. There's no point. But if this is a medically balanced, carefully planned diet then I am not sure you are supposed to substitute. Which sucks, because what the hell is with the asparagus? Seriously, asparagus everywhere. I think you lose weight by scaring the fat away with your pee smell.
I don't know that I will actually do it, and I wouldn't be doing it to stay on the diet for any extended period of time. It's just that the thought of losing 8-13 pounds in two weeks is highly attractive. I just have to decide now if it's more attractive than the ugliness that is cooking three meals a day, eating asparagus, and drinking the blood of a carrot. I am surprised he doesn't just tell you to drink asparagus juice for two weeks. I am pretty sure he wanted to.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Breeder? I hardly know her!
Angie is nicer than I am. Angie didn't curse out her trolls and damn them all to hell and look into legal action on the more threatening comments. She even tried to explain the concepts of irony and sarcasm in blogging to her humorless trolls. I doubt I would have had her patience. As it was I got so angry reading the comments I was unable to finish and I spent several hours composing rants in my head.
For those of you not in the loop, (and you really should be, I mean, why the hell aren't you reading Fluid Pudding? Go read it. Now. Then come back) Angie made a very funny post about a woman at Crazy Bowls and Wraps who was rude when serving her. It was humorous. It was lighthearted. It was totally misunderstood by every troll on the fucking internet.
To clarify: I have on many occasions had multi colored hair. Often with odd haircuts and unnatural shades of red. I however did not jump to the asinine conclusion that when Angie mentioned the server's two-toned hair that she was stating she didn't like people with two-toned hair. Silly me, I thought she was being descriptive. Same with the earrings. I have 20 of them. If anyone was going to jump to irrational conclusions about being belittled due to appearance, it would be me. Amazingly enough, I was able to comprehend the very clearly written post. Why, oh why, are there so many dumbasses in the world?
Also? Angie strikes me as an intelligent, funny, amazing woman. How anyone would mistake her sarcasm so severely is beyond me. So here it is. In general a person who is as educated and well spoken as Angie will have proper table manners. They will also come equipped with proper public conduct and etiquette. This person will not leave a mess simply to punish some rude food service worker. People tend to apply the worst of their own natures towards others, so it becomes easy to assume that because you are a rude, ignorant jackass that others are as well, and will behave in the same uneducated, boorish fashion that you do. Guess what? I am pretty sure Angie is better than the food service person in almost every way.
I don't want to hear the whiny "she disrespected food service workers" crap. She did no such thing. I worked for ten years in various aspects of the food service industry. Sure it's a crappy job. Yes, it is hard and most people are rude and disrespectful. However, as a food service worker my job was to provide service to the public. My job was not to roll my eyes at customers, to interrupt them, to act surly and unwelcoming and to behave in such a manner as to ensure that a customer would not return. In fact, had I behaved like that I would expect to be berated by the customer, and to lose my job. When I am at home and vent about annoying customers, that is on my time. Hell, when I walk in the back of the store away from customers, the faces I make and the curse words I use are pretty much all fine and dandy. I cannot in any way justify showing that behavior to a customer though. I've noticed more as I matured how awful the work ethic is among most food workers. It's not unheard of for someone to have been fired from their last five jobs. You know what? I follow a code of behavior and amazingly have never been fired. It's an incredibly simple concept. Angie's annoyance with this girl was perfectly justified. Had it been me I'd have reported her to the manager.
Back on the topic of intelligence, I think a good sign of intelligence is the ability to use the imagination. Angie imagined what she would have liked to have said or done, but that she was prevented from doing by her standards as a human being. Unfortunately a gaggle of idiots with no imagination were unable to see that clearly made point, and acted like ignorami they are.
One final rant here, and I saved this one for last because it makes me the most angry. Having children doesn't make us second class citizens. It doesn't make us stupid, it doesn't make us evil, it doesn't make us anything but parents. I think that those who have the anti-breeding stance are dumb, but whatever. We have no reason to mix socially, and I'm relatively certain that at some point they will grow viable brains and get over themselves. Do not come into my world to spray your venom though. Who the fuck invited you to the party? You don't like people with kids? Fine. Avoid them. There is no reason for you to go where you are unwanted and vomit your ignorance. You don't like that you pay school taxes? Too fucking bad. Perhaps you are forgetting that it is that system that educated you. Though when a rebuttal consists of "Die you fucking breeder" maybe I should not make that case. I wish to god your parents had shared your politics. You've already shown us that the world would be a brighter more pleasant place without you in it. If your only contribution to society is hate, then I for one believe society will be just fine without you. To think that you are the sperm that won. Go on, live your miserable lonely, hate-filled life. Avoid what can be the most amazing, and fulfilling experience you will ever know because you are too ignorant to see that family, and love are the most important things you will ever be given an opportunity to have.
Just keep your shit to yourself. You are not wanted here.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Griping in the rain
We are leaving for our camping honeymoon-let later this afternoon. You know that big rain storm that is over three quarters of the country? Yeah, we're in that. A lot. So not only might it rain while we are camping, I am pretty sure the ground is thoroughly saturated. I'm prepared to end up sleeping in the car. On a positive note, it's much cooler and the river has risen a lot, so if it does happen to stay sunny for 6 hours tomorrow it should be a great trip.
Despite the very ominous signs I am still very excited and want to leave this second. While it's raining, even. But my wonderful mother who is watching Jack is not home yet, so I have a bit longer to wait. I am killing time by making lists, whish so far has proven to be a really good idea, as we've thought of several things we wouldn't have otherwise.
My brother just got home and as I am in my pajamas I think I shall get dressed. Have a great weekend internet!
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Suspenders and a Belt
I am in a particularly foul mood, which is odd considering I've had a fairly good day, and don't dislike being married. Or the nookie. But anyway.
Joe and I made our reservations for our honeymoon-let this weekend. We are going floating and camping for two nights, sans baby. My parents are going to sit, so we plan on getting drunk and having a lot of sex. Thought you'd like to know. Two nights of camping, one float trip on a raft (as opposed to canoe or tube) and 6 meals between us came to a grand total of $116. Far less than a hotel and far more fun. But we are people who like spending the night in a tent and floating on a river for 6 hours. I love floating actually, I haven't been in a couple years, so I'm really very excited. I want it to be Friday now, but I need Thursday to happen so I can go get my Depo shot and not provide a honeymoon-let baby.
Funny side note that SJ has already heard all about:
I have a condition called Factor Five Leiden Gene Mutation that causes all sort of great fun like deadly emboluses. (Emboli?) It can also increase the risk of Ectopic pregnancies, placental abruption, and eclampsia. Joe's mom made a comment about when a woman is pregnant she is at her healthiest (she was criticizing me about something) and I so wanted to retort that pregnancy is when I am closest to dying. I took heparin throughout the pregnancy, and saw a high risk Ob/Gyn as well as my regular doc. I'm fine, Jack is fine and we don't need to test him until he's two years old.
What all this scary creepy talk means is that I can't take the Pill.
Ever notice how all those commercials list blood clots and stroke? Yeah. Every single kind of the Pill. I can however take Depo, but the FDA has put a "black box" warning on Depo now since it causes osteoporosis. So I can die, rot my bones, or have lots of kids. In case you chose to point out some of the other options, let me just say there is ample evidence to suggest that "at the moment" birth control is not something I am so good at.
I am actually quite proud of myself. This didn't turn into some huge rant about things I'm not actually mad about just because I was in a funk. I sort of ranted a bit, but as there are no curse words I count this post as a ray of sunshine.
I haven't got the photos uploaded yet, and I discovered that Flickr is a bitch on dialup. Damn, I cursed. Oh, what the hell. FUCK. I mean, I may as well have fun with it, and scare off the trolls. Hi Trolls! Fuck you!
I'm stopping now. I need liquor.
Have a nice night, Internet!
Monday, August 22, 2005
I's Married Now!*
The best word I've been able to think of is intense. It was like childbirth without all the crappy pain and good drugs.
I'm married. I am a Mrs. I have a new name. I am a wife.
Oh Holy God, this may be a sign of the apocalypse.
Pictures and coherence to follow.
*Yes, this grammar is intentional. Does anyone know why?
J, my eldest, is a smart boy. (Since he does not live with me I will not give any identifying factors to him or his family)
Joe, Jack and I were supposed to visit recently to introduce him to Jack.
Now, as a birth mother, I've always wanted J to know that I loved him. As it is, he defines the fact that I am his birth mother to mean that I love him. But I have always wondered how I would explain having a child that I was keeping, one I was able to not give away.
No matter how many catch phrases or platitudes one comes up with, it is a difficult concept.
We were supposed to visit recently, so that J could meet his half brother. (He also refers to Joe as his half dad. Since he'd never met a male in my life before Joe there is some concern that he may think Joe his birth father, but as far as we can tell he does not)
I was supposed to visit J and introduce Jack a couple weeks ago, but things didn't work out as planned and we had to cancel. (Did I mention how much I dislike Joe's baby-mama?)
Today I talked to J's mom and found out that J's brother (also adopted) and J were very upset that we had to cancel. J's brother reportedly had his face in his hands weeping "Baby Jack will still get to visit, right?".
So now I feel like shit.
I did ask J's mom that the boys were both aware that Jack was not coming to stay. She reassured me that all was well, but I still know that some day soon J will wonder why I kept Jack with me while giving J to another family.
He's asked about his birth father, but only in the vaguest sense, so we all breathe a sigh of relief over that one. (Though I am allowed to visit J, his birth father/ sperm donor is not. As he has never shown a desire to see his firstborn, I doubt this will ever be a problem)
I know when J is an adult he will completely understand, and for now he only understands to a certain degree. I just dread when he begins to add the situation up and wonders what the real reason I could not keep him is.
It's a very good thing I do not get married often.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
The path not taken that is covered in thorns and brambles
I think that talking to the ex-fiance the night before the wedding may not be such a great idea. Except that it is, since it's reminding me why the "ex" part.
Did I mention he cheated on me?
Yes, I have had moments of is this the right thing to do? But the answer is always yes. I love Joe, and perhaps more importantly, Joe loves me. Joe is faithful to me, honest with me, and is great in bed. It's equally important. And I've been drinking.
Is it possible to love someone and have zero desire to be with them? M is a great guy, and he's also a complete asshole. Every time I picture the life we'd have had I shudder.
And if possible, the in-laws would have been worse.
I told you the pre-wedding freakouts would be bad.
I'd rather have a bottle in front of me
I am going to assume it's normal to get drunk and be terrified the night before one's wedding.
So that's what I am doing.
I had a lot of bile and anger to vent there, thanks for being patient internet.
Ok, so I am now officially freaked out. My stomach is twisty and I keep thinking "What am I doing? I have no business getting married".
It's not cold feet in the sense that I am considering not getting married, it's cold feet in the sense that the thought of being married is a little terrifying.
I don't imagine much will actually be all that different. Joe and I have been living together, we have a child together. I just have to learn to say husband and not automatically sign my old last name. (I had a really cool signature. It's gonna be a process to get a new one that I like as much)
Joe's day is going to be far more bizarre than mine. He has to go to work tonight, take the car to be fixed in the morning when he gets off work, come home, take a nap and then get married. He's not working tomorrow night, but we aren't doing anything honeymoon-ish until next Friday.
My child is now starting to become bored with staring at the ceiling fan, so I guess I should actually pay attention to him now. (Please note the humorous tone in which that is intended)
Saturday, August 20, 2005
I hate my family right now. Not the Jack and Joe family, but the parents, brother, disowned sister, nieces and nephew family.
I don't have anything to do with my sister. I avoided talking to her for seven years, and trust me when I say that there are many valid, documented by the state reasons for this. I wouldn't be talking to her now except that my mom forgave her when she started spitting out grandkids, and as they live near here now they show up on occasion. It's my parents' house after all, so I just suck it up the best I can. They all came over the other day (sans alcoholic jackass of a husband who she is separated from but whom she deserved) for my father's birthday. She had no right to be there, the easiest reason to explain being that she is from my mother's first marriage and he's not even her dad.
I had to put up with her ignorant ugly dumb ass for three hours, and her screaming bratty children who are just little clones of their parents. (The youngest is actually okay, she's only eighteen months and has pretty much been raised by my mother)
I do not like her.
She ruined my father's birthday for me, which is not even the remotest surprise considering how many things she has intentionally ruined over the years.
It angers me that my mother is suckered in by her supposed changes, it angers me that my father has forgiven her, and that my brother (bless his sweet innocent soul) has no idea how evil and manipulative she is, and that she'd sell him out in a minute if she could get some shiny beads for him.
Guess who is not invited to the wedding?
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Yes Ernest, I do in fact know what you mean
All the cool kids on the interweb are talking about Jim Varney (AKA Ernest P. Worrell, and how proud of myself am I that I know the whole name?) so I decided I want to be in the in crowd and join in.
Once, I was in a professional summer stock company. Well, I was more than once, but I am only talking about one specific time. Anyway, this theatre had the oh so proud distinction of having had Jim Varney and pre-Scientology John Travolta as former actors. That's right! I'm a good enough actress to have been in Battlefield Earth: A Saga of the Year 3000. (Did anyone else know that was its full name?)
That was a really weird summer for me. I left for the theatre two days after I turned 17, and my mom was so terrified that I would screw everyone I met once I was out from under her watchful eye, that she put me on the Pill and bought me a box of condoms. I did not have sex with any guys that summer though. But I could have! I was such jail bait back then. If I had a scanner I'd post my skinny ass all over the internet. That's also the summer I started drinking and smoking. I was all kinds of rebellious. Good Times.
So that is my remote connection to Jim Varney.
I can also connect myself to Kevin Bacon in less than 6 steps.
Wedding Freakout #2 (But not a real green dress that's cruel)
Actually occurred in the changing room yesterday. I went dress shopping, and it was about the fourth stop and I think I'd had enough.
It all started out innocently enough. The first place we went to I was undaunted when none of the four dresses I tried would work. True, I could get two of them on and zipped up and whatnot, but they showed off the lumpiness of the house that Jack built far too well.
So we tried the consignment shop in town (the only consignment shop in town) and I tried on a green dress that probably started it's life as a bridesmaid's dress. It was pretty, and would work well, but it was a bit too big, and as such was actually loose in the chest. I don't think I've ever tried on a dress that was loose in the chest, even before I hit the Anna Nicole proportions I am at now.
We went on to another store, and they had absolutely nothing to even try on, so on to store number four.
Now, I've previously mentioned I have some agorophobia issues. I'd been out in public all afternoon clothes shopping. Clothes shopping is always a very painful experience for me that usually ends in tears.
Yesterday was no exception.
My mother has been shopping with me so many times when I've ended the day crying that I am surprised she didn't see it coming
Going into this store I'd said to my mother "Why don't we just go get the green dress?"
"I want you to have something you could wear again" she says, and since she's paying, in I go.
I took three outfits in to try on, and by this point I've started looking at skirt and blouse combinations out of desperation. I am sure it was my stress, and the fact that I was tired, and that nothing had worked so far, but I just started weeping. I had the full "I'm huge. I'm disgusting. I don't deserve to get married" mantra going in my head. I was afraid I would go into full-on hysterics mode. It's happened before.
I was too embarrassed to even leave my changing stall, lest my mother see I'd been crying or some innocent shopper be blinded by the fat. I also knew that my mother would tell me I looked great, and even though she wouldn't be lying to make me feel better it would have felt like it. I simply did not have it in me to believe her.
Rather pitifully I call from my mirrored hell "Can we please just go get the green dress?"
So we did.
And it's pretty and I am really happy with it. Honestly the only reason I didn't immediately buy it was the looseness in the chest and my fear I'd miss finding something better. Which my mother misunderstood as me not liking the dress. She was afraid I was just settling for it, hence her making me go to the last store. She wanted to make sure I found the perfect thing, which I love her for so much. But she really should be used to the crazy by now.
I have my dress, and today we picked up the wedding bands and got Joe's hair cut. I also got a really beautiful hair accessory barrette-thingy, and some new lipstick. This is a big deal as I wear makeup maybe four times a year. But how often do I get married? So I thought why the hell not.
I still have to figure out the shoes though.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Wedding Freakout #1
Has anyone been married by a Justice of the Peace? Do they have you recite vows? Do you have to say "obey"? I am not saying obey, but I seriously doubt they let you personalize vows when you are getting married by the judge. Beggars can't be choosers and all.
I really don't want to say obey. Unless Joe has to say it too. But they don't do that either.
I am pretty sure this is going to happen more and more over the next week. Stay tuned.
I'd just like to point out that there is a person living where I used to live, working where I used to work who Googled for mine and my son's real names. They are reading the site on a regular basis, which is totally fine, but if you know me why are you lurking? Also, I am surprised West doesn't block my page with as much cursing as is on it.
Seriously, you can comment and say hi, long time no see, etc. But you're creeping me out a bit by not delurking. Plus I am curious as hell as to who you are.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Chicken de China, the Chinese Chicken
So you know how pathetic I am internet? It actually took me a minute to figure out what I was going to write about.
I debated telling you about the naked pictures, or how I have to sneak alcohol and sex at my parents house. But, no... the fact that we now have a wedding date didn't occur to me. This plays right in to that whole "I'm not mature enough to be married" thing.
We have a date, by the way.
Next Monday, August 22 I'll be all legal and shit. Then I can have sex in my parents house! And I will have a last name that is not seven letters long and does not involve an X or a V. Woo Hoo!
So if you really feel the need to buy wedding gifts since you love me so much, please see my wishlist. But you totally don't have to, cause I'll be having sex. Lots of it. I wonder if this will be like when I finally turned 21 and could drink in front of my parents and proceeded to every time we went out to eat. To this day I do it. It's fun.
Yeah, not mature at all.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
I give good list
I like being linked to, and I like porn*.
So why am I bothered that I am linked on a page along with a bunch of porn links?
*There are many qualifiers to this statement, but overall I am okay with porn.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
I fell asleep holding Jack in one of the recliners not too long after I posted last night. My head was flopped funny and as such has been killing me all day. And I have acid stomach. The wages of drunken debauchery. So here's my depressing, slightly whiny "Woe Is My Life" post. You asked for it internet. Don't blame me.
Alicia (Caleb's mother) is a horrid bitch. I can't stand her. She's skanky. Anyway, she didn't bother to listen to when we needed to drop Caleb off, so we had to drop him off last night and cancel plans to see my son. We had two birthday parties with Caleb, but she accused Joe of being a bad father and being neglectful since he wouldn't be at the one she was throwing. In her head that is the only real party and nothing we did actually counts. Joe is working nights, so he had to go to bed this afternoon to get back on that sleep schedule. She yelled at him that he should stay up for 24 hours and then work a 12 hour shift because he doesn't need sleep. Then she threatened to not let him see Caleb again, so we had to suck up and act like we were the ones who didn't relay information properly.
Joe's mother thinks I rushed Joe into the relationship. Now mind you, he moved me to Omaha, and it was his idea. Also? We'd already talked about getting married before I moved up there.
She also thinks I got pregnant on purpose. Why the hell would I do that? Joe's a wonderful guy, but he has no money to speak of and there's no situation where I would profit by doing that. The first word out of my mouth when I saw that stick start to change color was "shit". On purpose my ass. (I love Jack, but hell no he wasn't planned)
And finally, I found out that a very good friend from high school has HIV and HepB. I hadn't talked to him since I moved away from Georgia, but it still makes me terribly sad. I am trying to plan out an email in my head that doesn't sound flippant, but also doesn't sound like I'm already planning his obituary. I'm just sad. This was one of my old runnin' around and breaking rules buddies. I think the last time I ever saw him we did coke and he came out to me. Which is a good memory.
So those are the main reasons yesterday sucked so hard. Throw in my period and heightened irritability level, and it was just not a good day to be me or know me.
But I did get pretty drunk.
Man I am in trouble
So we picked up beer for tonight.
And I let my brother have a couple, which is legally ok, and theoretically ok with my mom.
Then she came downstairs while he was imbibing. He told her he'd only had the one, but now I have to convince my very Baptist mother that it's not a bad thing.
Also? I told him I was bi. That was hi-larious.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
I went to the store today.
I had planned to write a huge funny post about going to Wal-Mart, and why I have to go to Wal-Mart as opposed to Target or somewhere cool.
But I went to Wal-Mart, and spent two hours and $150 there. In the middle of the day. And I knew the cashier having worked with her before. So she decided to chat.
I did mention I don't like people, right?
Oh! And this weird old lady came up and was pinching the pudge on Jack's leg talking about how cute he was. Don't touch my baby, weird old lady! I was mentally sending Joe the message to start pushing the cart away. Luckily we were done being rung up ($150 in food at Wal-Mart. It took a while. Aldi is the only place $150 would go further)
Ok, so I guess I am telling you about the trip anyway. Except now that I think about it I told you the remotely funny and creepy parts. I didn't run into anyone I'd slept with before. I swear every time I used to go to the store I'd see someone. It's not that many, I just have really wretched luck and Rolla is not very big so the odds are good.
I have a love hate relationship with Wal-Mart. In that I hate everything about it but the prices.
I worked at this Wal-Mart before too, which OH MY GOD makes me hate it more. But that was seven years ago, so the bile is lessened a bit. Especially since most of the people I worked with are no longer there. People generally make it less than a year or stay there forever. Ever notice all those ten and fifteen year nametags? They depress me.
Anyway, I go to Wal-Mart because the other choices in Rolla are Country Mart, a really skanky Kroger, and Aldi. I've been known to go to Aldi. It's a price thing, I am a cheapskate. But Aldi is more depressing than Wal-Mart and I have a deep ingrained fear of turning into that lady with the five kids who hasn't bathed in a month. I am a terrible snob.
So I go to Wal-Mart and revel in the inexpensive food. And toiletries. Oh, and bra top camisoles. I have really big boobs, and haven't been able to go bra-less since the eighth grade, so those are heaven to me.
Tomorrow we get to go pick up Caleb from the bitch from hell. Looking forward to that like drug free labor.
Then Friday I get to go see the future in-laws, which I am so dreading. Today on the phone Joe's mom goes through her routine: Is Maleah working? Why not? You (Joe) help with the baby? If she's not working she should be able to take care of him all the time. Why aren't you working at the place your father wants you to work? Why does it matter if you don't like that kind of work?
On and on and on. I swear to God. We stayed there for a week over Christmas and I thought I was going to shed blood. Not mine, oh no, most definitely not mine.
The thing is? She's not a terrible person. She can be very nice at times, and thoughtful on occasion. She's just had a hard life. The problem being she hates that anyone has anything easier than she did, and she expects everyone to be miserable. She always complains how Joe's dad never helped with the night feedings (they had seven kids) but she expects Joe to dump it all on me just the same. There's no logic.
I know you wish you were me.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Chock Full O' Nuts
Oh interweb, how I love you. You enable me in my neediness. Does that mean we are co-dependent? I am not supposed to be in co-dependent relationships. Though I always thought they were good in theory. I mean, two people who need eachother. How could that go wrong? Oh, the sarcasm. I know far too well how many ways that can go wrong. I spent days and weeks, hell, years crying and weeping. I even gnashed my teeth.
I feel I should disclose some facts.
Hello, my name is Jack's Raging Mommy and I am a...
Compulsive overeater. Once, after I got out of the crazy hospital, I had to go to Overeaters Anonymous meetings because of my bulemia. It was me and three fat women. That's gonna keep me from purging, sure.
Bi-Polar type B(b?)- Whichever is the far far more depressive version. Unfortunately I am also a rapid cycler. Once, when I was going into the crazy hospital (I have now covered both trips) I was lying in bed in the emergency room after having my stomach pumped, laughing my head off. Then they told me I was being admitted and I started yelling. I was having a great day.
Neurotic (with paranoid tendencies)- I can't use a bathroom that doesn't lock. I can't use the bathroom if someone else is in there (the next stall or whatever. Though I am also incapable of peeing in front of Joe). I know you are laughing at me.
Obsessive Compulsive- It used to take me two hours to go to bed, because I had to check and recheck my alarm, my front door locks, and my car locks and windows. That was the worst I ever got, though I have to fight on a nightly basis not to look at Jack every hour convinced he has stopped breathing. Which is hard, 'cause what if I convince myself not to check and I was right?
Agorophobic- for a while, before and after the second crazy hospital, it was a huge deal if I went to Wal-Mart (only with someone else and only at night) or to the gas station down the block. I still can't sit in the middle of the aisle at a movie theatre though. Or stand in the middle of a group of people. Or a line. There's a reason I am on sedatives three times a day :)
Those are my highlights. Don't you feel so much better about yourself now? You really should. I mean, I am actually crazy. And if I can do something, you know you must be able to, Internet.
I don't want my kids to be crazy. I had a long, hard road to get where I am now, and God knows I am barely functional much of the time. I always said my friends are the best people, to not only put up with me, but to like me. And how blessed am I to have Joe? He loves the hell out of me, and it's really not just the sex cause he didn't get hardly any during the pregnancy.
Thank you for reading me internet. And you don't have to worry, I am really far away and you don't have to hang out with me in person.
Did somebody turn off the internet and forget to tell me?
Where did everyone go?
(I may not have mentioned that I have some issues with paranoia, so I am now convinced the internet has decided it hates me and no one is reading me anymore. I'm so delightfully crazy.)
Sunday, August 07, 2005
My ass is so big it has it's own zip code
Angela over at Fluid Pudding has now lost over half her baby weight. As Harper was born two days before Jack I now have to step up to the plate and work my ass off. (I am just full of clever today. Earlier I stated that my ass was embarassing)
-My mother's gym membership wont allow me to come along until it's time to update her contract. Then and only then can she add me. I cannot afford one of my own right now.
-I would walk down the road and back but my excuse here is two-fold. It's freakin' hot, and even though it's cooled down immensely there are evil possibly rabid dogs down there. Ok, so they aren't rabid (I don't think) but quite possibly feral. It's the backwoods I tell you!
-I would eat better but as Joe has one of those damnable metabolisms that are faster than hell, and that I used to possess, he must eat many calories and I don't want to cook two meals.
-Jack wouldn't know me if I got skinny. (I'm reaching. I'm such a lazy bitch)
Reasons they are crap:
-Joe's working again now and I am pretty sure we could spare a bit of our alcohol budget to pay for me to work out.
-This one isn't crap, but it's also helped along by laziness.
-Crap crap crap. Joe would eat whatever I made, he'd just eat larger portions.
-So I said to myself, "JRM, you are lying through your teeth and grasping at straws and every other bad metaphor. Jack will certainly not know you if you stay a fat cow and die of a heart attack. Get off your lazy ass"
Unfortunately when that bitchy voice in my head (the one that sounds like me, not the one that sounds like Wallace Shawn. And my having Wallace Shawn in my head is a whole other issue) yells at me I must listen. If I don't she threatens to make me like preppy clothes. And boy bands.
So anyway, yesterday I did some crunches, and leg lifts, and evil work out things designed to decrease me starting at my belly button and continuing down to my thighs. Seriously, my lower legs and arms are still thin. I look like Humpty Dumpty.
In the past I've gotten an obsessive track about things like this, I once was doing 500 crunches a night. But fear of becoming like that again has kept me from it, until that too became a bullshit excuse and now I must try again.
I'm still not getting on a scale until my clothes are falling off though.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
I find inappropriate things humorous with my child. For instance?
Earlier Jack was oh so tired, and he'd nod off and his head would slowly droop down. Then he'd wake up with a jerk and this drunk looking grin on his face, only to drop his head again. As I was holding him I just kept laughing and watching him do it again and again instead of cuddling him so that he could fall asleep. When I did finally let him sleep he was out immediately. I'm mean, but it was funny!
Just now I belched really loudly (no dainty burps here) and Jack practically jumped out of his skin in fright. Isn't that hilarious? Unfortunately I can't make myself belch on command so there were no opportunities for repeats.
Yesterday Joe went to change Jack's dirty diaper when we were away from home, only to discover that the travel case of wipes was empty. And what Jack had was the true definition of shitload. I apologized to Joe, but I am still laughing about that.
I'm so not mature enough to be a parent :)
Friday, August 05, 2005
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Where it stops no one knows
Between the language I use, and Jack being named Jack, I get a disturbing number of hits from people looking for mommy porn. For the most part this makes me laugh, but today's hit for "Mommy jacks me off" was a little too disturbing. Do you mean that literally? Is your mother having incestuous relations with you? Perhaps you merely want to have incestuous relations with your mother, it's not happening in reality. But if it's merely innocent MILF porn you are looking for why, oh why would you use that particular phrasing? I wonder sometimes if I ought to have crisis resource links on the side of my page. RAINN at the very least.
Speaking of MILF porn, I had to explain the acronym to my very Baptist mother the other day. (I refer to her as my very Baptist mother because she will now only wear skirts and dresses. She's still a lot better than she used to be). Anyway, we were discussing either A) stupid message T-Shirts or B) how trashy Britney Spears is. I mentioned Britney's "Future MILF" shirt, and then realized I'd have to define it. I managed to do so without saying the word, but not without scarring my mother. I'm sure she'd rather I didn't know that kind of thing. For that matter, she'd rather I'd never read Harry Potter. I'd rather she wear pants. And the wheel goes round.
Speaking of pants, I have started getting dressed of a day, rather than staying in pajamas all the time, and maybe putting on different ones each day or so. But all my pants are tight. So I had really wretched muffin tops today because I couldn't bring myself to put on a maternity shirt to hide them. I think I decided fat was better than pregnant, though god knows why. At least if people thought I was pregnant I'd have an excuse for how very, very wide my ass is.
Speaking of ass, I've now used it, MILF and Britney Spears in the same post. Bring on the trolls!
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Carrie too, the Rage
I was thinking earlier how every girl I've ever known who has gone by "Kat" was an awful evil bitch. And for that reason alone I will never name a daughter of mine Katherine even though I love the name Kate.
I used to love James as a boy name, then a supposedly close friend named James screwed me and his other supposed friend over. Everyone else just ignored it or laughed it off. I have sworn to hate him forever.
My ex-fiance cheated on me with a girl named Carrie, who I already disliked. Now I hate the name on general principal.
I will hold a grudge as long as there is life left in me, as long as it is justified. I've been screwed over, cheated on and stabbed in the back too many times to keep these people in my life. You betray me? You are gone. That's it. No second chances, no setting up for you to do it again. I learned this lesson the hard way. I get very angry very easily, the type of anger that makes you sick to your stomach. It lasts for a little while with those who have earned their shunning, but eventually the white hot hatred goes away and is replaced by far less volatile disdain. And there is only one person who is still a friend that I'd stopped speaking to at one point. We still can't talk about the fight though, because I still get that angry all over again.
I have issues with rage.
I once was in an official road rage incident, the cop called it that and everything. Basically a semi got mad at me for passing him and sped up so that I couldn't. On a windy two lane mountain road. It was great.
The funniest part about all this is that no one has made me mad today, I just got thinking about Kats while I was reading a book about an Amish girl named Katie. The Amish made me think about rage. Isn't that funny?
I'm going to stop taking my Depakote now.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
I changed my comments over to Haloscan since they provide comment emailing options, but it made my signature line too long, and erased all my existing comments. Has anyone else used their system? Opinions? I created the template restore, so switching back is no problem.
I'll give it a try for a little bit, but if I don't like it I am just going to go back to Blogger's default.
If you can't see my comments how are you supposed to know how popular I am?!
And in posting this, the haloscan info is gone and my old comments are back. I am fairly internet savvy, so wtf is this?
Edit #2: I decided to delete the code or cancel my account, what with the dissappearing and reappearing Haloscan features and the ads in the comments, but the Haloscan site gives you no such option, and when I went to delete the code it wasn't even there.
3rd and final Edit:
Haloscan binds to your IP to work, so if you are on dialup -as I am temporarily- every time your IP changes it will not work. I'm still not sure what caused my problem though, since I never disconnected or received a new IP. This whole thing was so not worth the effort.
I got some today, and it was great.
It was also the first time in my entire life I had sex in a home owned by my parents. It kind of freaked me out a little. They weren't home though. There's no way I could have done that.
But yay! Sex!
I will stop writing, since my sex life is pretty much only of interest to myself and Joe, and I am just picturing the internet gagging right now.
Monday, August 01, 2005
I'm pretty sure I am kind of unnatural. You know those Luv's commercials where the mom says "when the baby first comes you wont let anyone hold it" etc? That is so not me. I'll plop Jack into your arms in a heartbeat as long as I am kind of sure you wont drop him.
Now, sure, it's mostly because doing the whole stay at home not having a job thing means I am holding Jack pretty much exclusively. Joe takes his turns when he's home, but a good three quarters of the day falls in my hands. (I punned.)
With family living so far away, and not having real life friends closer than three hours away, when I get the chance to be baby-less I jump at it. I was incapable of letting Jack stay with my parents for a week without me, so I guess it's a short term thing.
I stopped by my old work the other day, and everyone immediately oohed and ahhed as is appropriate for a new baby. I had no trouble letting anyone who liked hold him. Even the old manager who I hate. Three of them also asked where he came from which I found half amusing and half disturbing. Am I that non maternal? Maybe it's the fact that they knew me as a multi-pierced (only ears) insane freak.
Here's the thing though, sure I'll let you hold my baby so I can remember what it's like to not be joined at the hip. And I'll let you hold the baby so I can nap, or eat, or be on the computer or any number of other things. But I let my mom take Jack to church the other day, and as much as I enjoyed the alone time, and the opportunity to sleep in, I missed him horribly.
As soon as he got home I hugged him, and fed him and we played.
Then I handed him to my brother.