Happy Dance

Joe is halfway here. I wish he could get here before my parents get back from church. I've missed him so.

EDIT:
I've got my Joe back, and all my furniture safe and sound. Life is good :)

Are you sure your name isn't Moron?

Dear Mr. Comment Spammer,

Hello and welcome to Jack's Raging Mommy. I am Jack's Raging Mommy. See the word "raging"? It stands as a hint you might not want to piss me off.
I don't like comment spam. It's stupid and time consuming and futile. Do you really think that people you piss off will go to your site to do anything other than yell at you? Sure, you may get a few more hits but I doubt it's worth the effort.
I personally did not even go to your site to complain. I went to Blogger. See, as a Blogger user you should have been aware that comment spam is against the terms of service. I checked. Then I reported your dumb ass. I hope they suspend your account fuckwad.

Perhaps most importantly though, and what you really should have noticed, are the large ACLU and Human Rights Campaign "Million For Marriage" banners very prominently posted to the right of the post. Do you really, in your "far right wing" addled brain, think that your site is one I want to view? Did you think that your close minded politics are ones that I would embrace? Where the hell do you get the nerve to pollute my personal space with your hatred? These tactics are not going to work to win anyone over to your cause. Use the pea you call a brain and look at your surroundings before leaving your junk mail here.

Thank You,
Jack's Raging Mommy

Say my name bitch

I am a huge control freak. I admit it. It's a weakness but it's one that I cannot help. I'm the person who hits the imaginary brakes when others are driving. You should see me now that there's a baby in the vehicle. Joe has the patience of a saint I tell you. And the cock of a god, but that's neither here nor there, I just like to brag.

Anyway. I knew that if I came up here with Jack a week early that not being able to oversee the packing of the U-Haul would make me crazy. I was convinced that fragile things would be thrown and have boxes of books placed on them. That furniture would be placed so that it could move around when the truck was in motion. That Joe would forget a room full of stuff. And I was convinced of all this before I left.

Joe and some friends from work are packing the U-Haul up today. He's paying them for their service in beer, so a bunch of drunk men that I don't know are handling my belongings. Joe calls me today to tell me he doesn't think everything will fit, and what of my computer parts can be left behind. Ok, so I have five computers (Two Macs, two PC's and the laptop) and I don't use all of them, and not everything works, but Dude! You do not leave behind my computer parts! I am going to rebuild them by cannibalizing parts, but DUDE you can't mess with my computers! Seriously, that is only second to telling me you broke my collection of faerie figurines. (Which have all their original boxes and were packed by my mother and I and obsessively labeled Fragile. I still wish I'd brought them with me though)

So now I am freaking out, convinced that everything I love and treasure will be left out for the dumpster divers, and that what has been packed is all broken and willy-nilly. My mom keeps telling me to let it go, but she's far less of a control freak than I so she can bite me. Drunk men have my things. They probably didn't even use the furniture pads. Or look at the labels on the boxes. Or stack things well.

My head hurts.

The Great Weigh Out

EDIT: I swear I will be funny and non-preachy again soon. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my ear.

I want to start an internet movement. The easy part is that it's just word of mouth, and we all have fair sized mouths. The difficult part will be the follow through, but I think it's worth it.

I want to get every woman we know to refrain from weighing themselves for the month of August.

Seriously, no scales for a month. No worrying that you've gone up 1 pound, no worrying about weighing after you pee but before you shower so it's a couple ounces lighter. I really think we can do this.

We'd need the following:
Every blogger who is in on it should try to post about it at least once, and make sure all their real life friends know as well.
If anyone knows how to make those nifty little rectangle link boxes it'd be great if we could have a symbol to put on our pages to show that we are participating, and to provide links to an explanation.
Some sort of mission statement, I'm going to work on it but if anyone has suggestions you can email me at jacksragingmommy at gmail dot com.
A better name than the Great Weigh Out.

I know it's short notice, so maybe we should make the "official" dates mid August to mid September.

So, feedback? Is this folly that no one will partake of? Have my meds stopped working to the point they are coming to take me away? Or maybe, just maybe, can we make a point that our worth lies in more than a number and that who we are doesn't depend on our BMI.

If SJ has the balls, so do I

Internet, I am depressed. I've been having a really difficult time posting, because I want to be entertaining and fun and it's just not there. My funniest things lately have been self deprecating takes on how I actually feel. The whole fat ass thing? I really hate myself right now. You know how I keep saying I am tired? I am, but mostly it's the depression. Not quite as far as having a "plan" but not so great. Joe being in Omaha really doesn't help either. That feeling of being alone in the world with no one who cares is only intensified. I have agorophobia to a degree, and right now I have zero motivation or desire to leave the house and go anywhere. I haven't been talking to anyone other than Joe, who calls once a day. Your comments are a bit of a life saver right now. It shows that someone is interested, and notices my existence.

Depression is not a logical creature. Yes, I have Jack and Joe. My parents and brother love me and I am in the same house as them. So I am not unloved and alone by that definition. I barely have any pictures of Jack and I together because I look so enormous in all of them. Yes, I know I just had a baby and am allowed to be fat, but I can't help it. They make me cry. I know that leaving the house will not kill me, and that no one is staring at me thinking I am ugly or fat. You can't tell my heart that though. It's this deep dark place that swallows you up, and you forget that the top of the pit even exists, let alone how to get out.

I'm going back to my old clinic and getting on the combination of meds I was on before I was pregnant. I've mostly stopped breast feeding anyway (another point of depression) so I can take my category D drugs again. The Zoloft and Depakote combo is not cutting it. When you have to keep upping the dosage for no discernible difference it's time to try something new.
Reassurances: I have not made myself throw up or taken any laxatives. I have been eating. I have not cut myself or injured myself in any way. I don't want to. However, I know this pattern and I know the path I am on and I have to change some things soon.
I don't like me when I am depressed, and I doubt you would either, even with as shielded from it as you all are.

Cross your fingers for me internet?

Oh My God, Becky, Look At Her Butt

I feel like I have a whole lot of funny to live up to, and I am almost too tired to try, but Oh God! Did anyone else see Target's back to school commercial? It has a back to school jingle set to Sir Mix-A-Lot's Baby Got Back. I shit you not. Are we honestly so old now that they don't expect anyone to get it? Or is it actually supposed to appeal to those of us who were kids when it came out and make us want to buy their product? All it made me want to do was see if I still knew all the lyrics. I am pleased/appalled to say that I do. And it made me feel good about my butt, so hey, good things all around. Now I need to re-watch Pulp Fiction so I can listen to why pot bellies are desirable.

At the meetings we will eat ice cream

I want to start a Fat Ass club. Who's with me? We can make a specific day every week that we eat ice cream, or cake, or OH! Ice cream cake! And we can bitch about Lindsay Lohan checking herself into a fat spa with Kate Moss. And threaten to break them over our knees. Then we can talk about how women that have only gained 8.5 pounds by the third trimester are going to have stunted babies and should be tied down and force fed. We'll feed them fattening food, but stuff that tastes bad as punishment. We can dance around and shout Towanda while we drive our vehicles into those of skinny moms. It'll be great.

EDIT: The first rule of Fat Ass Club is you do not weigh yourself. (The second rule of Fat Ass Club is you do not weigh yourself)

Screw you, skinny bitch

I was just over at Sarcastic Journalist getting caught up on missed posts, and read about the Alpha Mom and non-existant baby weight gain. I replied:

I bought more fat pants today, then I had an ice creme cone and 3/4 of a footlong sub from subway- with bacon and cheese and mayo. Do I have a fat ass? You bet I do! But my food was good and I am much happier in that respect than some really hungry twig. I hate the twigs. I want them all to blow away in a stiff breeze.
Jack is only twelve weeks old. I am allowed to sill have my belly and fat ass. So there all you stupid skinny ladies in the waiting room. “My baby is three days younger than yours and look how thin I am". Eat me, skinny bitch. You own pants that don’t give you muffin top? Well hoo-ray for you. When your bones break from lack of nourishment don’t come crying to me. Nor will I sheild you in case of disaster. Get your own fat ass.

I have an eating disorder. I began making myself vomit and taking laxatives when I was eleven. Eleven. Our society is fucked up. I know not every young girl sees advertising and actresses and thinks they have to be like that at any cost, but enough do. Even though I am pretty much in recovery I still have a very hard time. I don't weigh myself, and for my whole pregnancy to ensure I didn't fall into old habits I had to face away from the scale and not be told what I weighed. Every time I see a new doctor or nurse I have to open with "I have an eating disorder and can't know how much I weigh". This is usually in a hallway with others around and is quite humiliating. Especially since I am overweight right now, and I just look even more stupid saying it. I had a nurse once get irritated and roll her eyes at me that I didn't know how much I weighed, though to be honest most people are more considerate than that.

I went clothes shopping today since I can't fit my fat ass into anything. More accurately my fat belly, cause I can get stuff on, just not fastened. My boobs and belly are so much bigger I can't wear most of my normal summer clothing, because to be blunt, there's not much there. However, I am SO not one of those women who can wear a camisole top with a pot belly hanging out. That is trashy. No shirts, no shorts, on to the thrift store. I got two pairs of shorts and two shirts. Clothes shopping is an ordeal. I usually end up in tears. As it is I am still torn up about it and ranting here and in SJ's comments. I know, I could work out! I could eat right! I could be all responsible and healthy cause that's worked so well for me in the past. Well, I am not walking in this heat, and I don't have money for the gym membership right now. As for food, well, I'm doing well not to binge and empty the fridge.

No, I am not going to slip, and yes, I am behaving myself. I just needed to vent. It's really very hard for me despite how well I am doing.

0814

So my mom has 3/4 of the channels blocked on the satellite, so I have to enter a password every time I want to see something, and I can't enter one channel and continue to search the guide either. Stupid parental controls. God forbid my 22 year old brother be able to turn on FX. (To be fair he is developmentally challenged, but he's still about 15 mentally. She really does need to lighten up)
They are trying to sell their house, so things must be kept clean in case of viewings, and my huge flannel sun moon and stars comforter doesn't "show" well, so I have to use stupid rustic quilt to make the bed during the day. Now, they are lucky my ass is making the bed at all. This is not something I do. It's just going to get messed up again. Then you have to go and make it harder by not letting me make it with the blanket I sleep under?
I love you mom, but your ways are not my ways. They are foreign to me. For example? There is no trash can in the kitchen. You have to take everything to the linen closet in the bathroom to the trashcan there. Sure you can't see a trashcan in the kitchen but that's too damn inconvenient. I kept a trashcan in my living room in Omaha so I didn't have to get up. I mentioned I am lazy, right?
I know these things are going to drive me batty very soon, and there are so many more, but I need to explain that I really love my mom. She's a great person, and once we got past my teenaged "I hate you" years, we've been friends. (My parents actually admitted they were crappy parents when I was a teenager, so it wasn't just the normal angsty crap). My folks are being very cool to put us up for this bit, but we figured out a long time ago we can get along as long as we don't live together, so I'm glad it's not for any longer.
All in all, it's going to be a long week. I miss Joe, I can't sleep without him, and Jack's crib is in the other room so I have to learn how to readjust to not having him in the room either. And I can't walk around naked after my shower. There really is a lot to be said for growing up and moving out. I'm really not as miserable as I sound though.

Ever so briefly

Seven hour trip took ten.
On dial-up on my mother's computer. Will be back on mine, but alas, still on dial-up at some point tonight.
I miss Joe so much it hurts, and it's only day one.

The whole fam-damily

So my folks arrived with my brother in tow, and I have survived the first night. I will say it's yet another reason to be glad for wireless internet, they are all sprawled out in the sunroom and livingroom but I am still able to feed my habit. Which is good, since I am still going to be awake for a bit. The one time I have a reason to turn off the T.V., and that Jack is sound asleep when I normally want to go to bed, and I'm not tired. God has a twisted sense of humor I tell you.

I probably won't be on for a few days, tomorrow is going to be a long day filled with a lot of packing and nagging from my mother to throw stuff out. Sunday we are going to drive over 7 hours, and then I will be staying with my parents until Joe comes down at the end of the month. They have dial-up. I am never going to be online. Which is a lie, but when you are online the second you open your laptop, dial-up is hard to deal with.

Also? It's ungodly hot. The heat index is almost 110, and unlike most women I don't perspire or glisten, I sweat. A lot.
Argh.

New content, kinda

I've been uploading posts from my old site that I made after Jack was first born . Lots of delerium, and some good pics as well.
Hit the May archives to see them.

None of this is logically connected

I like watching the Ellen DeGeneres show during the day, it's a nice break and I generally like who she has on. Well, other than her musical guests. We have different taste in music. However, she's been on hiatus for a few weeks now, and I am bored with the re-runs. Unfortunately TNT who has on Law & Order is showing golf all day. All damn day. Bastards. So I've got Ellen on the TV for now.

Jack is laying down which I am going to let him do as long as he likes. He had the screaming colic earlier, and oh holy lord it hurt. We were both just sobbing like... babies. I managed to get him to eat again and that put him out so if he wants to he can sleep all damn day. Once Joe gets home he has Jack duty until 6 AM anyway, so I will just sleep then. And possibly take some NyQuil.

The parents arrive tomorrow. If I had the cable for my camera I would take a picture of my living room so you could understand. There are four laundry baskets full of clean clothes, various baby contraptions, packed boxes, empty boxes, books, papers and random mail strewn everywhere. This is not hyperbole. There is stuff from one wall to the other and then from the other wall to the other other wall. The only reason the bedroom isn't in the same state is that all the boxes from the top of the closet are lined up along the wall and all the clothes are in the living room. The sunroom is... daunting as all get out. We have one of those huge metal shelf units that has basically served the purpose of a storage unit for the past year. The rolltop desk is not in use for it's intended purpose since it is home to stacks of things and has boxes stored in it's leg space.
Now yes, my parents are coming to help us pack, but the place has to be presentable when they get here.

I suppose I have babbled enough here. I am having a desperate need to communicate, and since I already called my mother in tears I thought I would share with the internet. You're welcome, internet.

Things that suck right now

• I am out of Harry Potter. I'm going to re-read Goblet of Fire (I totally did that out of order) but still, I'd like more new story please.
• I am out of library books, and as I am leaving on Friday I am unable to pick up Nickel and Dimed and Fast Food Nation that just came in for me. (I could have one done by Sunday morning, but I still haven't cleaned. It's safer not to get them if I plan on finishing)
• I am depressed. Not dangerously so, just down. (Though once I get back to Missouri I can go back to the clinic I used to attend and see my old doctor and get my old prescriptions back. Xanax!)
• Did I mention I still haven't cleaned? I got the oven done. I went to get a soda.
• I have to wake Jack up soon. He goes back and forth between sleeping about 6 hours at night, to waking up every two hours. So I am going to try not letting him nap longer than two hours at a pop today and see if it makes a difference. If it doesn't I won't do it again, cause I like my free time during the day. It's what keeps me from killing the neighbors.
• The neighbors are fucking so much it's shaking the window. God I am glad I'm moving.
  

(P.S. Blogger's spellcheck didn't know the word fucking. I told it to learn it. I have a feeling it'll crop up again.)

I do not have the power

Scotty died.

It is the tale that matters

People can and will be dismissive of J.K. Rowling's writing abilities all they like, but there is something to be said for the power of a story.
Foremost, the books are written for children. Adults who criticize the style of the prose are missing much of the point. And you will not see me criticizing anything that helps kids in our electronic society to love books.
That's the point really isn't it? That is why there are book snobs to begin with, because we (yeah, I am one) love the written word. We love the places that books take us, and the things that they show us. Rowling has helped to create not just one, but several generations of book lovers. Children and adults who will go out and find something else to read in the time between books. People who helped create a weekend in which a book made more money than the top two grossing films.
Like I said at the beginning, the power of a story is what matters. Harry, Hogwarts, Hermione, they are all part of an amazing world that makes people want to keep coming back. We care about these people, hell, we even think of them as people. That is the power of a good story.

I am an adult, and I read Harry Potter.

This is too funny

My Site Meter just told me that someone came to my site by doing a Yahoo video search for "Mommy Wants Cock".
That perked my down feelings right up, so to speak

...mommy wants cock...
priceless.

Identity theft

Does anyone else find themselves when describing the baby's activities referring to the baby as "we"?
"We just ate 8 ounces" or "we just had an enormous poop".
Why do people do this? Have I given up the fact that I am an individual adult with my own life and needs to become someone who is identified only through my offspring?
Or is it just me?

I am not depressed per se, just feeling a little down.

Packrat is putting it mildly

I am mildly obsessive compulsive. Generally it means that when I clean things I clean them really thoroughly, but for the most part it's under control. I also make stacks of things like books, papers, CD's, etc. I don't need to count things, or wash my hands, or pick up every piece of lint I see. In fact, I hate going into that mode so much that I will procrastinate cleaning to avoid triggering it. So my house isn't dirty, but it's messy. Now we have a baby and I've discovered that weird time sucking quality that babies come with. (The fact that I am constantly reading and blogging and watching TV has nothing to do with how fast my day goes by.) In all actuality though, once Jack falls asleep I need to relax and mostly can't bring myself to get up and do work. I am a lazy bitch.

The apartment is really messy.

My parents are coming to help us pack everything on Friday, which means that to make that process possible I have to clean all week. Sure, I could put away my stacks of things, but it would take hours since everything has to go into a specific place and I'd end up re-organizing my 1000+ books in the meantime. This is why I put this crap off. I go into the kitchen to get a glass of water and spend half an hour doing dishes and cleaning and never get my water.
I have to clean due to the impending parents, I hate to let them see my place messy. It shames me. Everything is so out of order right now it's going to take me forever. This week is going to suck.

Fear my wrath

My headache went away, and I survived Wal-Mart. Then we got home, and relaxed for a couple hours. We were going to watch a movie on the On Demand, the day was turning out to not be too bad. Then the power went out.

In 90 degree heat with almost 80 percent humidity, and I have an 11 week old infant. I gave it fifteen minutes and called the Power Company. They blew us off stating it wasn't their problem, that our maintenance people needed to fix the problem. So I called our Rental Company. I was told to call the Emergency Maintenance Contact. He wasn't answering his cell, and had a message to page him. So I did. Meanwhile, it's been half an hour and Joe's checked the breakers and this is not something we can fix. So I called the owner. (I am not putting his contact info 'cause he was pretty standup, and stuck in Iowa)

Jim talks to Joe about the state of the fuses and whatnot, and tells us he will get the number of the maintenance people to make sure someone comes out. About an hour after the power went out the maintenance people finally show up, and determine that it is a problem with the main line coming into the building, and the Power Company does indeed need to come. An hour after we originally reported the outage.

So the power company is outside the building for about half an hour, and nothing is happening, and they are still out there and nothing is happening. The word comes down from on high that they have replaced their part of the line, and will not be doing anything else. That Local Electric Company will be coming "at some point" to fix the rest of the line.

We wait for an hour, and called the local Electric Company. Their (so far) nice answering service lady tells us that the electrician is not answering his pages and no one can contact him. Fine. So I called back the Power Company, who won't do anything until rental maintenance man tells them that the breakers were re-set. I then call back rental maintenance man, and plead with his voicemail for him to call the Power Company.

The phone tag continues until 4 AM, by which point I am leaving regular messages with the rental agency, the maintenance man, the local electric company, the power company, and after I even had a chat with the police on whether or not there was a local agency who monitored all this, and could force someone into action. (There is not).
They pissed off a mommy, and in weather that kills infants and old people I was not about to run that risk. So I told them as much. (The messages included the statement that I would hold the rental agency liable for any illness that Jack incurred. It's the principle, dammit.)

Now, Jack actually pretty much slept through all of this, and other than wondering why we were hanging out in the hallway by the open back door that let in ambient light, probably never noticed anything different. But he could have easily been made sick (we would have gone to the store and hung out in AC if it seemed like he was overheating, again, principle people!) and I wanted someone to acknowledge their responsibilities. There are laws preventing power shut offs to the poor during extreme weather for a reason. But no one wanted to get off their asses and do their jobs.

One man told me "I don't know what anyone can do at 4AM anyway". Look asshole, the power went out at 9:30. The fact that it's now 4AM and I am still without power is not something you want to be throwing around as no big deal. And you certainly aren't helping your case to act like you don't care, when you are at home in your air conditioning. If people had done their jobs from the beginning I would not have to be "bothering" you at 4AM. So shut the fuck up.

I was finally able to fall asleep around 5 or 6, and the power came back on at 7. Joe's computer is beeping periodically since they managed to fundamentally screw up the wiring somehow, but so far I've not found any food that's gone bad, and no one seems dehydrated. But Oh My God the bitch was out hard last night. I fully expected to hear from the rental agency today with threats of restraining orders. But I didn't, so I guess we are all good.

Big N, Little y...

My head is killing me, killing me I tell you! It's got it's tendrils wrapped around and it's squeezing.
In all actuality if it doesn't back off I'll get a migraine, which I hate. I used to be able to take Alieve, and if I got it in time it would work. But oh, no. Pregnant ladies can't take Alieve.
So yeah, that is when it hit me and I went and took an Alieve. Then I realized I can have all kinds of good drugs again. I can take Ny Quil, home of the big fuckin' Q. I can take allergy sinus medicine with sweet mother ephedrine. I love you Jack, but gimme the drugs.
(I also took one of the uber-Motrins I had left from the hospital. This bitch needs to back off, I still have to brave the wilds of Wal-Mart)

Psy-cho

This is why I am glad I do not have a teenage internet stalker.
Freaks I tell you, freaks! And SO not the good kind.

It means I could sleep

So we are moving in a couple of weeks, and my parents are coming next weekend to visit and help us get everything boxed up. My mom and dad are then going to take Jack back with them. I could either go too and leave Joe alone for a week, or I could stay and sleep and have sex.
It would seem somewhat obvious, if you don't have babies, or have reached the stage where you hand your kids over in a heartbeat. The longest I've been away from Jack was on the 4th when we went to see fireworks. Only a couple of hours. This would be an entire week, and he'll only be 12 weeks old at that point.
I'm really torn. The thought of sleeping for 12 hours straight is so attractive it makes me want to weep. The thought of not being interrupted during sex makes me want to, well... anyway.
And what if Jack misses me? Or worse yet, what if he doesn't?
So internet, advice?

Sigh

I got a little tipsy last night, and left a trail of crass comments all over the internet. Not that I was rude, but I certainly wasn't inhibited. My sense of humor is off at best, and add in the alcohol and I was... my own special brand of funny.
If you came here to yell at me for mentioning masturbation, ghonnorrhea, porn, or something else I haven't discovered yet, well go ahead. I earned it. (But I really was funny...)

Update: Run on over to Sarcastic Journalist because she totally gets that ghonnorhea is funny.

Exceptin' Alice

How is it that I've never seen Alice's Restaurant before? The song was a major part of my consciousness back in high school. My friend Groovy used to call Jason "Arlo" since they had the same hair.
I remember one night when Arlo Guthrie played the 40 Watt in Athens when I was down there. It was amazing.
So how is it that the fact that there was a movie completely slipped under my radar? Don't let this travesty happen to you. I am watching it on Flix right now, so if you subscribe to the Starz package I am sure it will be on again. (In fact I just checked and it will be on again Tuesday at 9:35 AM CST) If you don't have Starz, which most sensible people don't since nothing much that is good is ever on, then rent it or watch it on your computador. Not that I would ever encourage people to download things off the interweb. I am much more upstanding a citizen than that.

EDIT: They just followed it up with Dick Tracy. Flix is some quality movie watching.

Disclaimer

I feel the need to clarify that I do not hate Christians and Republicans. Militant people bother me, but it doesn't matter what side of the fence you are on. A militant liberal will piss me off just as quickly.
Just so you know.

All Hail the Miracle

A very rare event is occurring as we speak. Jack is sitting on the floor in his carseat (for some reason he's happy there) and I am rocking it with my foot. Not only is he not yelling because he can see me and I am not picking him up, but he's happy and giggling and talking*. It's not that he has to be held at all times, but his being pleased with being alone times are rare and short. He'll play under his Boppy, but I usually have to sit within the line of sight. He'll swing for a while if it's facing me. Right now though he's made it about half an hour so far, and even let me go do dishes without panicking that I was not there.
This is nice.
I'll take it while I can get it, especially seeing as how we had an hour long colic fit earlier.
I am going to try putting some laundry away and packing some boxes, but I think I will take the carseat with me so as not to press my luck.

Also, he liked his vibrating seat for the first couple of weeks, but now he'll have nothing to do with it. Did anyone else have that problem? Are the bouncy seats any better?

Random musings while Jack sleeps

• Joe and I have been experimenting with dividing the night-time bleary-eyed baby-duty. He takes Jack until 6 AM since I usually go to bed before he does, then I take Jack from 6 AM on. It's nice, because we both get long chunks of sleep, but this also means I've been getting up for the day around 8 or 9 instead of 11 or 12. Add in the fact that Joe is working overtime this week and I am up from 8 until 1:30AM. This sucks donkey cock. Thus my happy dance over my nap. Sorry about rubbing it in like that.
  
• I am a bit obsessed with adding links, and those nifty rectangle boxes to my sidebar. Anytime I visit a website that has nifty rectangle boxes I check to see if there are any I want to get. I have been trimming back as I add new ones, but I fear my site shall soon turn into a solid brick wall of link images. I also desperately want people to read my blog. It's like when you are in junior high and crave from the bottom of your soul being invited to the popular table. I never was. (I'm glad for that now, my friends were much better people, and I still talk to a lot of them today. Though two of them became Republicans which is hard to swallow)
• Is it unreasonable of me to get mad when Joe called me at 11 PM last night to tell me he was working late? I mean, I look forward hard core to that last hour or two of my day knowing Joe is going to spell me with Jack soon. Then he calls me 15 minutes before he's supposed to walk through the door and tells me he's gonna be gone 2 more hours. That just shot my night to shit, and he didn't get it! I seriously wish I had somewhere I could go to leave Jack with him for the day, then call and say "Oh, I am going to be late". Then he'd get it. Bastard.
• I haven't actually updated the book list as fast as I've been reading the books. I don't know that anyone would believe me, and if they did there's no way they'd believe I do anything but read all day. But I do, really.
  
• If others check their site meters as often as I do, they are going to think I am some crazy lady. Well, I am a crazy lady, but I am not stalking anyone I swear. When I am holding Jack it's usually the easiest way to entertain myself, by obsessively checking my blogroll to see if anyone has updated. So I may be hitting your site 5 times a day, but I am doing it to everyone. I am an equal opportunity obsessive. Though come to think of it, I don't look at how many times a day any individual hits my site, so perhaps I shouldn't have pointed that out.

So there you have it. The little crap that was floating around in my head but I hadn't posted since it was silly, or made me look dumb, or was short or all of the above.
God I need a life.

Take that, interweb

Not a huge post, I just felt the need to brag that I got a nap.
I got a nap!
I'm done now.

It occurred to me...

I know I shouldn't care what others think of me, especially random people on the internet who I don't read and who don't normally read me. But I began to wonder how many people read my last post and immediately assumed that Joe and I are ignorant trash.
We are not. We are both very intelligent, well educated people who could be the poster children for what happens to kids raised in overly religious environments. No, I am not blaming the Church, or God, but Preacher's Kids syndrome is called such for a reason. Any time you put children in an extreme environment, be it religious, dietary, racial, etc. you are likely to encounter extreme rebellion against it.
What I am saying though, is that I ain't dumb. I just play it on the internet.

Short Stories Made Long

I want to bitch about something, but in order to do so I should give you a bit of Joe's back story, and if I am going to do that then I may as well give you mine too. This could take a while, but if it gets too long I'll break it up. Also, I don't lie about where I've been. Some of this may seem shocking from someone who you think of primarily as a mommy.

When I was 17 I had a lot of problems. To be fair, I still have a lot of problems and some of them are the same ones, but boy howdy was I messed up at that point. I was cutting school a lot, drinking and smoking a lot of pot back then, often at the same time. I also had a bit of a klepto issue. Actually, I was really good at it. I might not have ever gotten caught if I hadn't been with someone who wasn't any good at it. But I was, and we were getting followed. I realized this, and we ditched what we had, but still got stopped by store security. They messed up in that I was one of those criminals who knew their rights. They wrote up a statement saying we'd been stopped outside the store with the items and tried to get us to sign it. I wouldn't and told my friends not to as well. Then the police officer began to question us. I'd not been Marandized and since my two compatriots were only 16, they couldn't be questioned without parents present. When I pointed this out I was arrested and handcuffed, but at the station the charges were dropped.

This did actually scare me straight, and I suppose it's a very good thing that this happened when I was still technically a minor. However, the police called the school to make sure I went back, and the school (who didn't like how I always managed to slip out of their grasp) called my parents to tell them I'd been arrested. This resulted in a huge fight that ended in me moving out of their house. I started a new job the next day, where I met a guy named Thomas. I tell you all the other to give you an idea of where I was in my life. It wasn't pretty.

Thomas was a sociopath. I didn't realize it at the time, since like most sociopaths he was good at pretending to be what he was not. We dated for a while. Most of that time was spent getting high with two other friends who were also dating. I felt like I was playing a role more than I was living my life. I lost more and more of who I was as a person, and became more and more cowed by his whims and anger. In the meantime I turned 18. And got pregnant.

After vacillating between saying he was leaving, and saying he would stay and we would get married, Thomas took off and hid. His parents, and were they ever winners, helped him to hide. To this day I don't know where he lives. I haven't seen him since August of 1996. I know now that this is a good thing, and that him taking off was the best thing that could happen. At the time, I was crushed. I didn't have an identity outside of him anymore.

My roommate back then was one of the people I'd been arrested with. Her drug problem had spread to meth and coke, and more often than not the TV was in the pawn shop. We lived for a few weeks off cold roast beef sandwiches she brought home from work. I was with it enough to know that this was no life I could live, and no life for a child, so I swallowed my pride and called my parents. They'd moved to Missouri while all this was going on, so I packed up what I could and moved back home.

Yes, I was living with my parents, and it's true that this meant I wasn't drinking or smoking pot anymore, but it doesn't mean that I was sane. I remember just being numb for so much of that time, and terrified that the baby would be a miniature version of Thomas. Towards the end of December I decided I couldn't give this baby the things it deserved, especially love. I've been criticized a lot for that decision over the years, but people don't know where I was at that time. People couldn't see in my head and my heart to know why I made those choices. Which is a nice way of saying if you think I made a mistake keep it to yourself.

My mom helped my contact an adoption agency, and I chose the parents from a stack of biographies that prospective parents put together. Justin was born on April 27th 1997. His parents are wonderful people and I've never had a doubt that things turned out exactly as they were supposed to. It's an open adoption, Justin has always known who I am and I've always been part of his life. He's met Joe, and he knows about Jack who he calls his half-brother.

Joe's story is much shorter, since it's his and I can't write about it as in depth. He was dating a girl named Alicia, and it was a terrible mistake. She left him for a friend of his and found out she was pregnant. Caleb was born and a DNA test confirmed that Joe was the father. Caleb will be four next month, and Joe (and I) see him whenever we go back home, and will be living with us half the time once we move back and have a room for him. He's an okay kid considering how much upheaval he lives in. Alicia is pregnant with her third child in four years. They've moved five times in the last year, and she's had at least 4 different boyfriends and jobs. When she works. She primarily lives off of Joe's child support. Have you figured out what I want to bitch about yet?

Caleb stayed with us at my parents house when we were visiting last weekend. When Caleb stays with us he is expected to say please and thank you. I put him in time out once for throwing a banana when he got mad that Joe'd opened it and not let him. Nobody spanked him, nothing traumatic happened. Well, Alicia calls yesterday to bitch. "Caleb has bugbites, how did he get bugbites?" Well, moron, he went outside. There are bugs outside. Yes, we used bug spray. He's a four year old boy. He's gonna get bug bites. " Caleb is having nightmares and won't sleep through the night. Did we let him play scary video games? Did we tell him there were monsters? " No you dumbass. We did not emotionally scar your child. Caleb had no trouble sleeping when he was with us. No one told him there were monsters, and he couldn't have played scary video games since my brother is the only one with a game system and he is not allowed to play violent games. Caleb has nightmares when he goes back to Alicia because he leaves a structured environment where people don't yell and scream and curse one another out all the time.

The poor child has no sense of stability with her. They move every few months, the last time DFS ordered them to move or they would remove the kids because the apartment was substandard. Alicia won't keep a steady job or boyfriend, she's not even with the guy who got her pregnant this time, and she's only 8 weeks along. She's trash and I can't stand her. I hate that for Joe to have anything to do with his child he has to have contact with her. I hate that him having contact with her means that I have to. She walks all over him and takes advantage of his kindness, and I've already told him that it will no longer occur when we move back. She's not going to treat me like crap, I have no reason and no patience to put up with it. She wanted me to keep my baby up until past midnight and drive an extra three hours with him after we just drove 8 hours from Omaha so that she could see the baby. Then got upset when I didn't. I don't mind the child support, except that she doesn't spend it on Caleb. Every time we see her she has a new ring or clothing to show off, and there is no way for DFS to enforce how she spends the money.
I really, really hate her.
The End.

I told you I needed my sleep

I am having the worst afternoon and evening. Really I suppose I should say Jack is having the worst one, seeing as how he's the one who is being bothered by something. He's fed, he's pooped, he's comfy, he wont stop crying. Even when I am walking around which holds him off even when he's hungry. Not today though, oh hell no. Nothing works today, and to top it off he's not slept more than an hour at a time, and he's only done that twice since 2pm. (I mark things from when Joe leaves for work)

Why this makes my day so bad is the aforementioned lack of sleep. I cried for two hours, desperately pleading with Jack to stop and rest so I could sleep. I still haven't slept, though Jack did finally pass out about fifteen minutes ago. I have been running around throwing away trash, washing bottles, and eating. He may finally be down, but I hold no hope that this will last.

God I'm tired. And if Joe ever wants to have real sex again and not permanently rely on the porn he'll be taking care of Jack tonight.

Don't Wake Me, I'm A Monster

I am still very angry with Joe's parents about the fact that they would not hold Jack. I'm also mad at Joe right now too, but for far different reasons.

The agreement is that if one of us is asleep the theoretically conscious one will take care of Jack. I went to bed last night at around midnight, and Joe was still up on the computer. The first time Jack woke up and cried for a while I got up to feed him when Joe comes in and asks what I was doing.
What was I doing? I was taking care of the baby who you just ignored crying for five minutes even though you were awake in the next room, buttwipe. ( I think I may have worded what I actually said more nicely)
An hour or so later Jack is crying again, and once more I got up. This time I decided to peek and see why Joe wasn't getting him.

Here's the thing. If I am not in the mood, I have zero problem with him... entertaining himself. More power to him. He's not neglecting me, and he's not cheating.
But dammit, when the baby is crying and I was asleep I resent the hell out of having to get up 'cause Joe's too wrapped up in his porn.

When Jack woke up again at 5 and Joe was in bed but not getting up I just looked at him and told him he'd better not make me get up. (He then proceeded to leave the crying baby with me while he started the bottle, something he gets livid at me for doing. I'd had enough at this point and told him to shove it. Again, more nicely.)

We handle everything but night-time really well. At night, we're just evil.

smiles

smiles, originally uploaded by Maleah Jack and Joe.

See? See why I am so completely in love with my child? He smiles now. His face splits wide in a huge grin now. How could you not want to pick up that baby? How could you not want to just eat his little face? (I'm a little crazy over him)
I make the best babies :)

Non chronological tale of the trip

There's a blogroll over there ----->
Thank GOD for the people on it, and that they are funny. The laughter has helped with the weariness.

I want to be coherent, and funny, but I'm still tired and fairly pissed off.

Five days, four states, three branches of family, one 9 week old, and one 3 year old almost step son. I got new books, and Jack slept 8 hours the first two nights... so it wasn't all evil. But seriously, it hurt. Joe's in the car all "what a great vacation! I actually feel relaxed! I like staying with your parents! Caleb was so well behaved!" My man is obviously deluded.

My parents are conservative Southern Baptists. They only watch ESPN and Fox News. They only have the one satellite receiver.
I do love my family, and dear God would I rather stay there than at Joe's parents. (He agrees, it's not just a case of me hating the in-laws, and I don't. I can handle them in fairly small doses.)

We decided to go ahead and get legally wed some time in the next month, 'cause if for no other reason we need to be able to share a room at my parents house so he can take his turns with the baby. Granted Jack slept "through" the first two nights, but my ass doesn't get up at 6 AM. Except that I did. I napped, it was necessary for the survival of everyone.

The part that really just killed my weekend though still has me so mad my hands start to shake.

It was my idea to go see his family on this trip, it wasn't something he was pushing. They hadn't really met Jack yet, and I thought they'd like a chance to spend a day with the baby. Boy was I mistaken. Now granted, Joe's mom had seven children, and Jack is the seventh grandchild. I suppose one could try to make the argument that babies could lose their appeal after all that. He's the seventh grandchild to my parents too though, and they were excited enough to visit while I was pregnant, and to come up for the birth- from two hours further away than Joe's family is. All that aside, Jack is a new baby. He's the first grandchild to have their last name, and one would think that people could muster the smallest amount of excitement about that.

They never even held him. We spent the whole day there Sunday and not once did either Joe's mother or father hold Jack. His sister Angie did, and her fiance. His sister Ann held him for a long time while he napped. But Jack's grandparents apparently couldn't be bothered.

Joe asked me after we left if we had to go visit again. I looked at him and just said no.

*Spellbound

Blogger's spellcheck tells me that "akward" is spelled "awkward". The internet seems to be telling me that both are correct. My brain tells me that "akward" is correct, since "awkward" looks... akward.
The word has now lost all meaning.

Oh God

The driving.
The baby.
The family.
The Fox News Channel.

I'll explain it all later.

Awkward*

Joe and I are taking Jack back to Missouri to see our families for the weekend, a seven hour trip I am so looking forward to with a 9 week old. My parents live about an hour south of St. Louis, but after we get there we get to rest briefly and drive about an hour northeast to pick up Joe's other son. (Someday I will tell you all about our family situations. It's hilarious)

In deciding to go I mentioned to my friend Mike we wouldn't be here, since I'd asked if he wanted to try to meet up and do something. He lives closer than any of our other friends, and the thought of sitting and doing nothing was depressing. We'll be going through Kansas City to get to MO, so he suggested we meet up for lunch. It's good timing, Jack will need to eat and be changed, and we should be hungry by then as well.
So this is all well and good, but I have left out one small detail. Mike is my ex fiance. He and Joe know one another, in a backwards way I met Joe through Mike. They were both in GDI and I first started going to those parties with Mike. Joe was vice president the first year I was involved with the group.

The clusterfuck that was my relationship with Mike went off and on for four years, then I started seeing Joe. It was awkward* enough to tell Joe about it, and for Joe to know I still talked to Mike. He wasn't sure if I would go back to Mike at the beginning of our relationship. Which is understandable as many times as Mike and I got back together. There are parts of me that are still hung up on Mike and always will be, and this will be the first time the three of us have hung out together since Joe and I began dating. The guys both insist they will be comfortable with it, but I am not sure I will be.
I'm a bit nervous.