Well, maybe I'm being over dramatic... (as if!)
We all have our struggles in life. ALL OF US.
I recently went to a psychiatrist to be treated for what I was SURE was Borderline Personality Disorder. Awesome, right? I mean, if your gonna get a mental illness, why not one of the single most difficult to treat? Turns out that was NOT the diagnosis.
I suffer from "Mid-Level Depression and Bi-Polar Type 2"
It is treatable with medication, therapy and a little self forgiveness. I'm not crazy, but my depression makes me think I am.
So, I start thinking to myself, how many other people are silently suffering from depression because they think they are simply bat shit crazy? Oh, probably a shit ton! I thought I would share my story with you and highlight a few of the unusual symptoms I had that I would not have associated with Depression.
I am moody as FUCK. I mean uber uber doober moody. I'll come home from work and see a few dishes on the counter and my brain will say, "Hey! This looks like an AWESOME time to alienate your entire family make them feel like shit for not reading your mind and cleaning off the goddamned counter! Let's get really loud, slam some shit around, but most importantly, you need to be super irrational. Now when I say irrational, I mean take it up to an eleven. Once you REALIZE you are being irrational, understand that is no place to stop! that means pursue your dreams! Go big!"
Seriously.
I start with, "Hey, you left shit all over the place (gross misrepresentation of three cups on the counter)" and end somewhere with "YOU"RE THE BIGGEST JERK I'VE EVER MET AND I WANT TO PUSH YOU OFF A CLIFF!"
That's logical, right?
The worst part is realizing that exact moment that I have gone over the edge but not being able to stop myself. I mean, why stop there?
Then there is the illogical logic. Ha. I'll ask you a question. Like a normal person, you will respond. Perhaps you will leave out details or give an incomplete answer... Brain says, "Well lookie here! Clearly what he meant by 'Oh' was 'I think you're an idiot. When you to sleep, I'm going to pack up everything WE own and leave. By the time you get up, not only will you be alone, but broke... so good luck finding me!"
Well, maybe that's a stretch for even my brain's standards... but not much.
I can't remember anything. Dates, events, conversations I'VE JUST HAD.... nothing. (unless it took place 20 years ago, then I am quite like an idiot savant) I will never be able to recall what my agenda was for today at work without use of notes or Outlook reminders, but I will NEVER forget that time in third grade where Danny Smith Depantsed you in front of the whole school and how you cried tears of shame into your beautiful paisley blouse...Isn't paisley underrated by the way?"
Which leads me to my next point. Attention span. Don't got one. I will day dream about puppies and kitties and what I could be doing later while you tell me your inner most desires. I don't mean to. I just can't.
I am not my BiPolar.
I am not my ADHD, ADD or any other combination of letters.
I am not Schizphrenic.
I have PTSD.
I am not a looney toon.
I am not a doctor. I don't even look good in white.... I am not saying that if you feel the same way there is nothing serious going on in your mind or body. What I am saying is you don't need to be afraid. Slice of Humble did a blog today on some things she went through post pardom. She's not a nut either. She's a really good friend. The point is, don't be afraid.
You don't need to feel like shit. You don't need to suffer through hours and hours of anxiety attacks like I did. You don't need to rock yourself back and forth in the dark while talking to your cat Fluffy telling him you turned out just like your crazy dead mom. WHAT?? Get help. Talk to someone.
Stress is a motherfucker, guise. I mean it! It can make you nuts. being a single mom, however rewarding, is stressful as fuck. Losing a parent, no matter how much you couldn't take their insanity, is stressful as fuck. Keeping inside dark secrets are stressful as fuck. And you know what? Thinking there is something wrong with your beautiful, intelligent self.... is stressful as fuck.
I'm on day four of an anti depressant and a sleep aid. Even the colors around me look brighter. Seriously. I laugh more. I smile more. I SNAP LESS. My doctor and I chose Prozac because it is the most 'forgiving' of all anti depressants... you can stop taking it at any time without withdrawal symptoms. So, when enough is enough, I can just stop. Ambien is my little sleep angel and I look forward to having unconscious sex or eating whilst driving to Las Vegas in an Ambien induced slumber soon. (Disclaimer: no, I do not. )
Guys, how are you feeling?
It's been a while....
Hello, Lovelies!
When I started this blog, it was meant to be a comedic outlet, a documentation of raising a few kids... But then it took a turn. Life changed. The dark side got darker. I started to write things that were depressing because they were weighing hevily on my mind and then eventually stopped writing all together because I just couldn't even bring myself to type a few words.
Well, I've made changes. Hopefully the future will be brighter. I'm sure there will be repercussions of my decisions; there always are regardless if those decisions are good or bad. I made the choice to me a single mother again, well, it was made for me, but that's really not the point. The point is that's where I am at.
My older kids are 14 and 17, so being a single mother to a couple of adolescents in my 20's and early 30's is way different than starting over at 35 with a 21 mo old. Sometimes it's way better because I'm more relaxed and experienced, other times it's just exhausting because I feel old.
I don't know where the future is going to take all of us, but I'm a little excited. Once again, my life is a blank canvas I can do anything with. Well, almost anything. I probably won't be a Victoria's Secret model or an Astronaut, but who knows? Maybe one day the space program will resume and want to put women with real bodies in some VS undies and ship us to Uranus. There's always hope!
Thanks for sticking with me, even when I wasn't funny. Even when I didn't post. thanks for your comments of support. They meant the world even when you didn't know it.
Love you guys! Look forward to bringing the funneh back...
When I started this blog, it was meant to be a comedic outlet, a documentation of raising a few kids... But then it took a turn. Life changed. The dark side got darker. I started to write things that were depressing because they were weighing hevily on my mind and then eventually stopped writing all together because I just couldn't even bring myself to type a few words.
Well, I've made changes. Hopefully the future will be brighter. I'm sure there will be repercussions of my decisions; there always are regardless if those decisions are good or bad. I made the choice to me a single mother again, well, it was made for me, but that's really not the point. The point is that's where I am at.
My older kids are 14 and 17, so being a single mother to a couple of adolescents in my 20's and early 30's is way different than starting over at 35 with a 21 mo old. Sometimes it's way better because I'm more relaxed and experienced, other times it's just exhausting because I feel old.
I don't know where the future is going to take all of us, but I'm a little excited. Once again, my life is a blank canvas I can do anything with. Well, almost anything. I probably won't be a Victoria's Secret model or an Astronaut, but who knows? Maybe one day the space program will resume and want to put women with real bodies in some VS undies and ship us to Uranus. There's always hope!
Thanks for sticking with me, even when I wasn't funny. Even when I didn't post. thanks for your comments of support. They meant the world even when you didn't know it.
Love you guys! Look forward to bringing the funneh back...
Soooo tired.
Kids will suck the life out of you. No, seriously. They do. It's a medically proven fact. Everytime you birth one of these little adorable parasites your body changes. Let me first clarify that I ADORE my little parasites... But the after effects, not so much.
Since I had Bugga, I've been sluggish. losing hair and of course, my mind. Him is just the cutest and cuddliest little critter, but man did he take his toll on me. Apparently to produce that much cute is an exhausting effort. No wonder there aren;t more cute kids... moms just aren't up to it.
"So... on a scale of 1 to diabetic shock, how cute do you want your kid to be? Keep in mind that the cuter the baby, the longer the effects on your body..."
"I'll settle for a 5...wait, no. A 7."
You're welcome, Ugga Bugga. Your momma said let's put it at 11.
I have days lately where I want to set fire to everyone around me and put them out with a fork. The only person I don't snap at is Ugg Bugg. He's just to freaking cute. The little jerk KNOWS when I am nearing the edge and instinctively does something adorable. He will randomly break out into Gangnam Style singing the only parts he knows: "AAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY....... uh, uh, uh, uh...."
But I wanted to just share with you a few adorable things he does that makes whatever I am going through health wise worth it. The kid is hysterical.
Here's a visual:
Well, kinda. Gotta clicky this linky
Yesterday a good friend stopped by with is sister. Uggs likes to run around the house giving coy smiles and pretending how shy he is. I mean seriously coy... like hide my face and peek out with a dazzling smile coy. So my friend looks at the dog's crate and says "Why don't you just put him in there? " I told him he goes in there on his own...usually while the dog is in there. He looks a Ug Bug and says "Wanna go in the cage little guy?" Ug runs up to him with the biggest smile, rests his hand on his leg, tilts his head and smiles again. The, he hits him and runs away. Seconds later he is laying on the floor rolling around hiding his face.
I love this kid. He's my clone.
I go in for another blood test on Saturday to see is it's my thyroid or if I'm just finally transitioning into a superior life form. (I'm sure that causes sleepiness and sleeplessness...) Meanwhile, I'm Ugga Buggin' it. Forgive me if the posts aren't as frequent for a little bit.
Also, bloggers.... Check out Canopi.me. It's a new site that is trying to be to bloggers what Amazon is to shoppers... Or Pintrest is to crack head crafters. It's neat. they've syndicated me so you can find me there. It's a cool idea and it get's your work out there.
Since I had Bugga, I've been sluggish. losing hair and of course, my mind. Him is just the cutest and cuddliest little critter, but man did he take his toll on me. Apparently to produce that much cute is an exhausting effort. No wonder there aren;t more cute kids... moms just aren't up to it.
"So... on a scale of 1 to diabetic shock, how cute do you want your kid to be? Keep in mind that the cuter the baby, the longer the effects on your body..."
"I'll settle for a 5...wait, no. A 7."
You're welcome, Ugga Bugga. Your momma said let's put it at 11.
I have days lately where I want to set fire to everyone around me and put them out with a fork. The only person I don't snap at is Ugg Bugg. He's just to freaking cute. The little jerk KNOWS when I am nearing the edge and instinctively does something adorable. He will randomly break out into Gangnam Style singing the only parts he knows: "AAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY....... uh, uh, uh, uh...."
But I wanted to just share with you a few adorable things he does that makes whatever I am going through health wise worth it. The kid is hysterical.
Here's a visual:
Well, kinda. Gotta clicky this linky
Yesterday a good friend stopped by with is sister. Uggs likes to run around the house giving coy smiles and pretending how shy he is. I mean seriously coy... like hide my face and peek out with a dazzling smile coy. So my friend looks at the dog's crate and says "Why don't you just put him in there? " I told him he goes in there on his own...usually while the dog is in there. He looks a Ug Bug and says "Wanna go in the cage little guy?" Ug runs up to him with the biggest smile, rests his hand on his leg, tilts his head and smiles again. The, he hits him and runs away. Seconds later he is laying on the floor rolling around hiding his face.
I love this kid. He's my clone.
I go in for another blood test on Saturday to see is it's my thyroid or if I'm just finally transitioning into a superior life form. (I'm sure that causes sleepiness and sleeplessness...) Meanwhile, I'm Ugga Buggin' it. Forgive me if the posts aren't as frequent for a little bit.
Also, bloggers.... Check out Canopi.me. It's a new site that is trying to be to bloggers what Amazon is to shoppers... Or Pintrest is to crack head crafters. It's neat. they've syndicated me so you can find me there. It's a cool idea and it get's your work out there.
Let me leave you with this, my loves....
Just because.
The boy and his Dog...
Wanted: Cutest Little Con Artist on the Planet and His Dog
Seriously.
Watch out.
The boy and his dog have formed an alliance based on food. I'm not talking about the normal dog hovering around by the food-dispensing baby deal... I mean a full out alliance.
On a typical day, I get home from work and immediately start cooking dinner with my little assistant Bugga. This is usually just prior to the Momma and Bugga concert series we are currently holding. (We pick songs on On Demand and sing them together.) Just afterwards we feed Laney the obese Labrador.
Bugg will hustle across the living room with one of those toddlery wobble runs where it appears his legs have been asleep for a few hours but he's gotta go. He'll immediately drop into a yoga style squat that a human over 14 can never do again without substantial effort and start to grab, one by one, kibble after kibble out of Laney's bowl. There are three different patterns to his madness:
1. Make it rain in Dis Bitch - This is where Bugga takes a handful of kibble and throws it in the air laughing like a mad man. The dog then scrambles around to collect all the discarded goodness.
2. It's Gettin Hot in Hurr - In this pattern, Buggs shoves individual kibbles into the heating vents next to the front door delighting in his ability to squeeze the bastards somewhere we'll not likely be able to retrieve them from.
3. Take it, Bitch - Here Bugga will run across the room and shove bits of kibble into my mouth laughing because he knows it tastes like shit.
The Dog hates kids, Well, most kids. Bugga is her dude. Her willingness to let him in her food bowl is the biggest testimony to how much she loves the little con artist.
Now, on the other side is the obvious. When Bugg eats in his chair, Laney is there poised and waiting for any misplaced morsel to fall to the ground. My little comedian likes to put on a little show. After he takes a few bits with his big boy fork, making cute NOM NOM NOM sounds, he will stop dead and change his expression to one of complete calmness. He will lock eyes with me and then WHIP a handful of food at the floor, mentally screaming "BECAUSE FUCK YOU, THAT'S WHY!"
('cept for when you point a camera. He has a smile reflex)
Now that you are well familiarized with the goofy relationship Dog and Bugga have, let me share with you a story....
I brought home some delicious Somoa Girl Scout cookies the other day and immediately handed one to Bug and middle Child. Bugg kept saying "mow! mow!" I told him no and Middle Child put the box up so Bugg couldn't get to them. We were gone for NO MORE than 30 seconds and upon our return, found Laney with a box of GS cookies on her head, and Bugg with a Samoa in each hand, looking smug.
Let's take a step back and look at this whole thing and point out the magic...
1. Dogs Do Not Gently Help Themselves To Table Stuffs - They rip them down, shred them and ingest them.
2. Dogs Typically Do Not Go After Things That Do Not Have a Strong Smell - Steak, Chicken, garbage... sure. But GSC are virtually scentless... like a Chips A'Hoy
Here is what I think happened here... Bugg walked up to Laney and said (in whatever magical language that small children and animals share) "Look, Dog... We both know she isn't going to give you any of those delightfully delicious cookies, because she's a bitch. She won't give me any more either. Why don't we see what we can get accomplished... I can't reach that box, but I bet you can...."
The end result being Laney jumping on the counter, retrieving that cookies and presenting two to Bugga before digesting the other 10.
I now think that every time they run around the house together they are planning and scheming. No snack is safe... Between Bugg's highly developed human brain and Laney's height (not to mention their secret language...) We are all doomed.
So what do ya think?
I was reading one of my favorite blog.... The Klonopin Chronicles and fell in love... She mentioned that she was at a Starbucks getting coffee and when the Barista gave it to her, he said, " All the decisions we've made in our lives have led us to this moment"
Whooooaaaa... That's heavy.
So now, what do you think?
I've made a bunch of mistakes. from time to time people ask me if I have regrets... I really don't. If I hadn't made every single stupid decision I might not be who I am today. I kinda like me. Sure, it would have been an easier road, but I might not have been better... I might have just been some self-entitled asshole. Me is pretty ok.
I don't really want to go much farther with this blog. I'd really like to do is hear how YOU feel. What does that statement mean to you? How do you feel about your choices? What would you do if you could do it all over again... or would you even try?
Whooooaaaa... That's heavy.
So now, what do you think?
I've made a bunch of mistakes. from time to time people ask me if I have regrets... I really don't. If I hadn't made every single stupid decision I might not be who I am today. I kinda like me. Sure, it would have been an easier road, but I might not have been better... I might have just been some self-entitled asshole. Me is pretty ok.
I don't really want to go much farther with this blog. I'd really like to do is hear how YOU feel. What does that statement mean to you? How do you feel about your choices? What would you do if you could do it all over again... or would you even try?
Terrible Twos.... I love you.
After nearly two years of dressing him funny, this day was bound to come. Ugga Bugga has officially at 17 months reached terrible two territory. I happened in an instant just yesterday, He discovered he could throw a fit to express his displeasure in any situation. No more will crying be reserved for the mundane 'I'm hungry...sad...scared...' Now we can whip that voice out and just generally fuck some shit up if shit don't go our way.
It started Sunday morning.... I was trying to get myself and Bugga ready for a baby shower. All we needed to do was lay little Bug down for his normal nap time and Momma would get ready. Life was to be beautiful...
Nope.
9 am nap time came and went. So did 10 and 11 am. There was no way. I was going to be lucky if I left the house in pants. That's when it happened. I was in the bathroom applying various creams and sundries to my naturally beautiful and completely refreshed from a full night sleep (whut???) face. Bugga struck. He wanted o put his hand in the toilet. Sounds reasonable, right? Sure, kid... Why not? I intervened.
This enraged my normally adorable little Ugga Bug. He turned red. He swatted at me. He bent at the knees as if he were dancing.... He screamed as if I were beating his baby ass.
There would be no Bugga at the baby shower. If I brought this kid, the poor girl would likely opt for adoption. She'd return all the gifts, call an agency and use the money from the gifts to develop an alcohol addiction. Trust me, I've considered it.....
This morning Ugga Bugga Daddy had to go somewhere. Bugga typically spends his days with UBD and his nights with me. He dropped Bugs off at Auntie G's, took off his coat and sat him on the couch. Ugga immediately got sucked into the TV. G told UBD to skedaddle before he noticed. About 30 seconds later, Ugga broke out into full on "this isn't what I wanted to happen" rage. There was foot stomping, Gangnam style dancing.... The works. At first G tried to hug him and calm him down... Until she noticed ti was a fit. She walked away for about 30 seconds and he followed her into the kitchen sniffling ready to be a semi-rational member of the human race again.
Something tells me that if these same events would have happened at home it would have taken a little longer than 30 seconds...
UBD watched him melt down last night and said "Man, that kid is spoiled! Look at him!!!" I explained the fun that is the terrible twos and the fact that we will be dealing with it for at least a year... more if we give in. A few minutes later another 'tude storm occurred. UBD says, "Terrible twos.... I love you."
UBD can be an obnoxious mate and or human being, but he is a pretty damn good Daddy. This is his first and things have come instinctively to him that it took me two trial kids to figure out. I told him so the other night and he replied: "I just stop and think what my mom would have done.... and do the opposite." I laughed, but realized that was pretty much how I learned how to parent as well. Guess it has been working, too... My two oldest are 17 and 14 and they are pretty damned good kids. No teen pregnancies (beat me there!), middle son is in all AP and honor classes for High School and making fantastic decisions educationally (never applied myself til college!) and elder boy is just the sweetest and most compassionate boy on the planet...especially for 17. (I threatened to run away, kill my siblings... you name it)
Take that, mom. I will NOT have a bunch of kids just like me. :)
It's Hard to Love Some People...
It really, really is....
I don't want to make this blog a big ol' bummer. I also don't want to be one of those pity me people, but I gotta get some stuff off of my chest.
I wrote a book a few years ago called DYS*FUNC*TION. I never had it published, shit... I never really finished it... It is/was a comedic look at growing up in dysfunction. I really have to get back to it one of these days.
Anyway, I am a child of alcoholics.... I had addiction issues myself in the past (all good now! WOOT!) and I have lived with alcoholic/addicts most of my life. How exhausting. I guess when one 'corrects' his or herself, that person can be a little more critical when judging others. Long and short... I'm fucking done putting up with shit.
I raised my mother until she died at the untimely age of 51 from cancer, just days before her 52nd birthday. She left behind my twin half sisters who were only 20. My mom was who she was... I learned to accept that. 3 years later, I harbor no ill feelings towards her at all. This means I get to live.
As sad as it sounds, with her passing, I experienced a feeling of freedom I had never before felt. I had the fortune of making amends to her for my on behavior, talking out my anger and sadness and most importantly, say good bye. Nothing was left unsaid. She couldn't 'accidentally' screw up my life anymore. (Sometimes she was a lot like having a 6 year old around... Ironically, if you ask my sisters, you'd think we were raised by a different woman. I apparently was her anchor) At 30 years old, I was fucking ready to live life.
I met a man. We fell hard and fast in love. It was a fucking whirlwind. I had never been happier. Even Middle Boy's dad, my volatile ex of 13 years was happy for me. He said I was glowing... We made the concious decision to have a baby... Ugga Bugga. He is the best little man on the planet, that little Bug. I was so excited at the prospect of having a happily ever after and a traditional family unit that I missed the signs...
He was drinking more and more. He was blacking out. He was yelling, being mean... even violent. I made him leave. His options were basically fuck off or rehab. To his credit he picked rehab. Things were pretty cool for awhile, until the sneaking and the lying began all over again.
The addict doesn't see their part when they are deep in it... sometimes they never do. When I point out how much I do for him and how much I have put up with, he argues that my cat sometimes pisses on the floor and says I do nothing about it. Whoa. What the fuck should I do, oh great one? Have a stern talking to with that little furball letting him know that his behavior is unacceptable? Didn't work with HIM... why would the cat listen?
At some point, it is up to me to decide where this insanity ends. I cannot count on him to make the choice. He lives in his head and nothing I say or do gets through. He tells me he will not let me control him and actually chastised me yesterday and called me mean. He thinks I'm not being supportive and helping him work through his issues. I was supportive when you were in rehab. I was supportive when I bailed you out of jail...twice. I was supportive when you slipped... Now I am just fucking pissed off. There is a fine line between supportive and enabling and I've crossed it. Do not manipulate me into feeling guilty. I am not a fool. I have run this rodeo with family, friends, fiancees... Honey, you ain't the first.
I also tend to think that calling you out on your bullshit IS being supportive. It's tough love, fucker. If you can't handle it, then I don't know what to tell you. It's not my nature to pacify and placate. It's just not me to take shit lying down.
I'm standing up.
Baby Bugga looks at that man like he is a God. He won't always. The worst moment in childhood is when you realize that your parents are human, worse yet; flawed. They are not perfect. they cannot save the world... I know from experience that that realization is 10 fold worse when it is accompanied with the realization that your parent is broken inside. Then comes the years of raising your parent... That's fucking cycle I will not perpetuate. Please, don't let that boy down.
I'm fucking pissed. I am fucking ANGRY! Mostly at myself for not paying enough attention or seeing this coming. The heart is a motherfucker.
I'm bummed too. I wanted this. I wanted this bad. Really, isn't tht true of everything in life? Every decision? No matter how much regret you have in the end, you have to remember that at some point you TRULY WANTED whatever it is.
I'm not sorry. Not at all... I think it is summed up best by the band Stars:
There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you
I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to say
I'm not sorry there's nothing to say...
I'm not sorry there's nothing to say...
Live through this, and you won't look back…
Years of Co-Sleeping Around Ends Here... You better start talking.
I have practiced Co-Sleeping with all three of my kids. Since I was a songle mom for a long time, it also was not unusual that my older boys would wind up in my bed here and there between the ages of 4-12 either. I had a HUGE bed with an ultra plush pillow top, so it was always on the premise that my bed was so much more comfortable than theirs.
Ugga Bugga is 17 mo old now and necessity has downgraded us from a California King to a lowly Queen size bed. Even though Ugga Bugga's Daddy only weighs about 100lbs, he takes up as much room as a Saint Bernard and well, Bugga isn't a little fetal-position sleeper either.As a result, we moved Bug's crib into our room and have started the transition.
Now, I'm fully aware that logic defies all things baby, but have taken to reasoning with the little man anyway. Yesterday I actually gave him what could have been considered a dissertation in regards to how this is "Bugga's Special Place" where "only Bugga can go..." I Fung Sui'ed all of his stuffed animals and told him it was a bed time party with all of his buddies.... He didn't give a shit.
Day #1
6:30
Begin the process of putting Bugga to bed. Daddy is at work, so it's just us. No Sweat! I lay him down in the bed to start there, all the while showing him his crib and how badly I wish I could sleep in there. I told Ugga Bugga Daddy to convert it to a toddeler bed, but he wouldn't. Dad said he might fall out. Of course, the bed is a 1/4 from the floor... Bugga falls asleep after about an hour. It might have been quicker, but the phone rang, which necessitated him bolting up and pushing my face in it's direction saying "A-woah!" That's about the extent of his vocabulary... "A-woah" "Daht-ee" So, I placed bugga in his crib when he fell asleep. Daddy came home and Bugga woke up. Daddy felt bad for Buggie, so he put him in the bed. I swear this kid knew he defeated me... He continued to kick the back of my head for an hour. Eventually I yelled "You both win!" and took my pillows downstairs and slept on the couch.
Day #2
6:30
Bugga doesn't talk, as I mentioned. We were watching Calliou (is that little bald-headed fuck NOT the most annoying thing on television??? What's with the bald head??? Hos sister Rosie had ore hair... Is Calliou French-Canadian for cancer???) learn how to ice skate. His skating instructor was named George. Never ever ever before has Jax met a George or even heard the name to my knowledge, but when George was leaving, I said "Bye George!". Bugga responds "Bye jore!"
Really? You can't say momma but you can say fucking George?
Bugga eventually goes down, with a fight and sleeps in his crib. He sleeps til 2 am where I finally put him back in the bed. Bugga - 2 Momma -0
Day #3
7:00
I am exhausted and my back hurts. I no longer give a shit if this kid ever sleeps in a crib because I'm about to take up residency on the fucking floor. Why did I have another baby??? My kids were almost out of the house! Go ahead, Daddy, keep kissing his ass! Oh.... wait... did he just say Momma?
Nope. He said Loser.
Bugga - 3 Momma - 0
Day #4
I have no idea what time it is. I can't feel my hands because I was sleeping on them funny.
Bugga- 4 Momma -0
Day #5.
6:30
I am not looking forward to this. I have been pwned by a toddler. After we sit for a while in the bed, I give him the 'boy your bed is so special" speech again and put him in there. I give him his little touch screen phone (an old one of ours no longer attached to a number... don't judge me.) put a video on it and pray to any availible diety that this is it....
He switched videos...seriously... and fell asleep listening to someone woman talk about the pros and cons of linx based operation systems. Like fatehr like son... good thing I'm a sucker for nerds. This makes me laugh out loud... consequently waking up Bugga. FUUUUUUCK.
Bugga -5 momma -0
Day #6
Kill me. I think it's the weekend because I don't have to work tomorrow...
Bugga is put in his crib right away. There is a little bit of reasoning with the unreasonable as I again waste my breath explaining that it's his special just for Bugga place. I think I'm seeing double.
he cries. He reaches for me... I hug him and tell him I love him. He stops crying. I give him his snuggle (a blankie from his aunt) and he lays down... This could be it!!!!
He sleeps in the crib til 4am, waking up only twice for a fewseconds at a time and successfully lulled back to sleep. At four am I bring him to bed with us. he sleeps for another half hour and then wakes me up playing slapsies with my face. He smacks me three or four times in a row and then giggles. How sweet.
Bugga - 6 Momma - 0
Day #7
I have been in hell for a week now. I am growing weary... I haven't slept a decent night in longer than I can remember. I think the baby laughs at me when as I cry and rock myself back and forth.
I give Bug a bath. He starts wailing when I take him out and wants his bottle. I put him the room with the gate up and go to get the bottle. I am nearly to the top of the stairs when I hear a splash. My heart stops. I panic. I run into the bathroom to find Bug smiling, fully clothed in the draining tub. He somehow plowed that gate over, a skill never before seen... and decided he was not done with his bath.
I put Bugga in his bed. He fusses for 10 minutes and lays down with his butt in the air. He falls asleep. I cannot speak. Ugga Bugga Daddy open his mouth and I cover it, furiously shaking my head NO! Bugga is asleep. Seriously. I fall out immediately. I woke up this morning feeling like a human again, however, there was a baby on my head when I woke up.
We will call this a draw, kid....
(Disclaimer... before anyone gets a hard on over the bathroom deal, this kid is NEVER left unspervised for more than 30 seconds. When he is unsupervised for 30 seconds, it's in a safe environment. He knocked over the gate. He was ok. Shit happens, mistakes are made. None of you are pefect either, so veiw it as hindsight funny and let's not leave a bunch of crappy comments.... )
The Search For Sprout... or How My 16-Month Old Runs me...
Last year Ugga Bugga's dad and I got Direct Tv at a great price. We went with Comcast for internet because they were running a special as well.
Well, It's over now. I think we are paying like $50 for internet and $100 for TV. KTHANKSNO.
So I did what anyone would do, I called Comcast and asked them what kind of discounts I could get by bringing them my TV service. She told me about a great package that was $70/mo or something and I got excited.
Then it occurred to me...
"Does that include PBS Sprout?" I ask.
She says no... That's a second tier channel. (WHAAAAT???) Well good job Comcast. Way to take advantage of insane parents who are sleep deprived. I am certain that no single or childless person opts to be upgraded to second tier programming because they are worried they will miss out on the crazy antics of Chica the Chicken on the fucking Sunnyside Up Show.
Ok. So I start investigating more. She offers me a package that is $99 for cable, telephone andiInternet. I told her I don't need a phone, I just want cable and Internet. She tells me that by getting this package I am eligible for a $250 Visa gift card. Again, I politely decline. So she moves on to what she refers to as 'Double Play' packages. These include just cable and Internet. That package is $99 as well.
What. Whut? Why?
She goes on to explain it has everything the Triple Play Package has, minus the phone, and the Visa gift card is $50. Then she instructs me that it would just make more sense if I signed up for the phone service. Oh, would it? I guess it would if I needed a fucking phone. I'm sure I could get a great deal on Jock Itch medication too, but seeing as that I have no dick, I'd likely pass.
While all this is going on, Ugga Bugga is in the background watching Thomas and Friends, dancing and clapping along to the theme song. Well played Thomas. You assshole.
So I bite... Ok. I'll do it. $99, right? Sure. Whatever. Then she asks me how many TVs I have. I tell her I'll need three boxes. She asks if they are HD. I don't fucking know! Up until 2006 I had a goddamned Console Tv. Do you know what that is??? Here....
BAM motherfucker! Console TV! Dude, seriously, it worked, who cared? Now we have a bunch of TVs, but none of them are flat screens and since I'm a girl, I assume that means they are not HD. She informs me that each HD box, which is necessary to receive any channel over 100 (PBS Sprout being 135), is $9.95. Also, the modem for the fucking phone I don't want is $7/mo as well. Well, at least I see the usefulness of the $250 Visa card, which I am sure I'll have to blow a goat to get. It was at that moment I said words I have never said before in my life: I'm going to have to discuss this with my husband first.
They have me by the throat here really. I learned after a fight with AT&T a year ago that we are not serviceable. Of course, that did not stop them from selling me the service, attempting to install it for a week or two and then after telling me I was not a serviceable address (something you would think they would have known upfront) an still sending me a bill for $250.... I guess after all is said and done, I'm still saving $10 a month.
Whatever. I have to go. It's time to sell my soul to Comcast...
Well, It's over now. I think we are paying like $50 for internet and $100 for TV. KTHANKSNO.
So I did what anyone would do, I called Comcast and asked them what kind of discounts I could get by bringing them my TV service. She told me about a great package that was $70/mo or something and I got excited.
Then it occurred to me...
"Does that include PBS Sprout?" I ask.
She says no... That's a second tier channel. (WHAAAAT???) Well good job Comcast. Way to take advantage of insane parents who are sleep deprived. I am certain that no single or childless person opts to be upgraded to second tier programming because they are worried they will miss out on the crazy antics of Chica the Chicken on the fucking Sunnyside Up Show.
Ok. So I start investigating more. She offers me a package that is $99 for cable, telephone andiInternet. I told her I don't need a phone, I just want cable and Internet. She tells me that by getting this package I am eligible for a $250 Visa gift card. Again, I politely decline. So she moves on to what she refers to as 'Double Play' packages. These include just cable and Internet. That package is $99 as well.
What. Whut? Why?
She goes on to explain it has everything the Triple Play Package has, minus the phone, and the Visa gift card is $50. Then she instructs me that it would just make more sense if I signed up for the phone service. Oh, would it? I guess it would if I needed a fucking phone. I'm sure I could get a great deal on Jock Itch medication too, but seeing as that I have no dick, I'd likely pass.
While all this is going on, Ugga Bugga is in the background watching Thomas and Friends, dancing and clapping along to the theme song. Well played Thomas. You assshole.
So I bite... Ok. I'll do it. $99, right? Sure. Whatever. Then she asks me how many TVs I have. I tell her I'll need three boxes. She asks if they are HD. I don't fucking know! Up until 2006 I had a goddamned Console Tv. Do you know what that is??? Here....
BAM motherfucker! Console TV! Dude, seriously, it worked, who cared? Now we have a bunch of TVs, but none of them are flat screens and since I'm a girl, I assume that means they are not HD. She informs me that each HD box, which is necessary to receive any channel over 100 (PBS Sprout being 135), is $9.95. Also, the modem for the fucking phone I don't want is $7/mo as well. Well, at least I see the usefulness of the $250 Visa card, which I am sure I'll have to blow a goat to get. It was at that moment I said words I have never said before in my life: I'm going to have to discuss this with my husband first.
They have me by the throat here really. I learned after a fight with AT&T a year ago that we are not serviceable. Of course, that did not stop them from selling me the service, attempting to install it for a week or two and then after telling me I was not a serviceable address (something you would think they would have known upfront) an still sending me a bill for $250.... I guess after all is said and done, I'm still saving $10 a month.
Whatever. I have to go. It's time to sell my soul to Comcast...
A Boy and His Boobs
Yesterday Middle-Son and I embarked on an adventure with a friend of mine. Initially, we just set out to go to Wal-Mart, but anytime the three of us get together, there is usually an adventure.
After running a few errands, we went to the Tilted Kilt for lunch. Woman or not, I walk in the door and feel like a racist, because they all look the same to me. Of course, My eyes never get above their shoulders. We sat for about 10 minutes and this Blonde girl who looks like Janis from the Muppets comes to our table and takes our order.
Well, that's it. It's all she did. We never really saw her again. Eventually we complained when our food came out before our sodas did. The food that came was only half right anyway. Our meal was deemed free... Of course, this is not where the Funneh lay.
Blondie comes back and looks at Middle-Child and says, "Awww, sweetie. I'm really sorry your food came out wrong. It was totally my fault. I entered the wrong thing into the computer. Hee hee!"
Middle-Boy just kind of blinked a few times an then looked at me. I shrugged. When she walked away he said to me..."Of course it was her fault. The alternative being what, that it was MY fault she entered it wrong into the computer? Seriously. What the hell is wrong with her???"
Another waitress came by to take over and Middle-Boy swears he's seen her before somewhere. I had to tell him that all TK girls look the same. Let's be honest, did you even notice what color her eyes were? he replies." uh, Double D?"
Then we went to Wal-mart. I fucking hate that place. First, way to make me feel uncomfortable instantly by having some severely disfigured guy greet me at the door and try to engage in conversation. Why do they do this? Aren't you taking your job a little far? Just wiggle your fingers in a wave and go bugger off. I certainly did not come to Wal-mart seeking intellectual conversation. You're lucky I put on pants.
Then, the nice lady in the fitting room asked me to follow her...into the men's fitting room... when I asked if I could try something on. I mention this to her and she shrugs. Ok then. Unfortunately, pants were tried on without incident.
I'm pretty sure Wal-mart is the grossest place on earth. I think I saw Honey Boo-Boo's Momma eat a box of Spice Girls. She was standing next to a woman who had the blackest, thickest, drawn on eyebrows I've ever seen. Her face was whiter than white. WTF???? Do people even look in mirrors anymore? the more disturbing thing is that people actually put some effort into looking like that. I mean, the Sharpie doesn't scribble all over her face by itself.
Ugga Bugga's Dad has decided that from here on out, he is not going to grow any facial hair. He's just going to draw on a different 'stache everyday with a Sharpie. Why should girls be the only ones to do this? I will be posting pics as soon as I convince him that it's the best idea he's ever had...
After running a few errands, we went to the Tilted Kilt for lunch. Woman or not, I walk in the door and feel like a racist, because they all look the same to me. Of course, My eyes never get above their shoulders. We sat for about 10 minutes and this Blonde girl who looks like Janis from the Muppets comes to our table and takes our order.
Well, that's it. It's all she did. We never really saw her again. Eventually we complained when our food came out before our sodas did. The food that came was only half right anyway. Our meal was deemed free... Of course, this is not where the Funneh lay.
Blondie comes back and looks at Middle-Child and says, "Awww, sweetie. I'm really sorry your food came out wrong. It was totally my fault. I entered the wrong thing into the computer. Hee hee!"
Middle-Boy just kind of blinked a few times an then looked at me. I shrugged. When she walked away he said to me..."Of course it was her fault. The alternative being what, that it was MY fault she entered it wrong into the computer? Seriously. What the hell is wrong with her???"
Another waitress came by to take over and Middle-Boy swears he's seen her before somewhere. I had to tell him that all TK girls look the same. Let's be honest, did you even notice what color her eyes were? he replies." uh, Double D?"
Then we went to Wal-mart. I fucking hate that place. First, way to make me feel uncomfortable instantly by having some severely disfigured guy greet me at the door and try to engage in conversation. Why do they do this? Aren't you taking your job a little far? Just wiggle your fingers in a wave and go bugger off. I certainly did not come to Wal-mart seeking intellectual conversation. You're lucky I put on pants.
Then, the nice lady in the fitting room asked me to follow her...into the men's fitting room... when I asked if I could try something on. I mention this to her and she shrugs. Ok then. Unfortunately, pants were tried on without incident.
I'm pretty sure Wal-mart is the grossest place on earth. I think I saw Honey Boo-Boo's Momma eat a box of Spice Girls. She was standing next to a woman who had the blackest, thickest, drawn on eyebrows I've ever seen. Her face was whiter than white. WTF???? Do people even look in mirrors anymore? the more disturbing thing is that people actually put some effort into looking like that. I mean, the Sharpie doesn't scribble all over her face by itself.
Ugga Bugga's Dad has decided that from here on out, he is not going to grow any facial hair. He's just going to draw on a different 'stache everyday with a Sharpie. Why should girls be the only ones to do this? I will be posting pics as soon as I convince him that it's the best idea he's ever had...
We have a few pets...
Along with 50 kids, I also have two cats and a dog. That in it's self isn't very interesting, until you get know the three of them. I have seen less personality in a lot of people then the amount these fuzzy little fuckers possess.
We'll start with Fluffy. He is a n 8 year old Mane Coon and also a future world leader. If you have not yet become acquainted with Fluffy, you can do so HERE. He's kind of an arrogant little bastard. For as big of a cat as he is, he has a very effeminate little meow. For a long time he would sleep in Middle-Boy's room... that is until Middle-Boy got tired of Fluffy hocking up hairballs on his bedding... Then he started locking him out. One night Middle-Boy and I were home alone in our respective bed rooms and we heard Fluffy start ot meow. Then, clear as day we heard the cat say "KYYYYY-UUUHHL".
Silence.
About a minute later, Middle-Boy (Kyle) comes in, looking a little pale, and says, "You heard that, right?" I just shook my head and we let it go. Otherwise, Fluffy just kind of slinks around the house looking like an arrogant little prick. Every once and a while he'll get a little catatonic (no pun intended) and spend a prolonged period of time staring at nothing. Sometimes he'll drool. I don't worry about it anymore though... I think he's just thinking about his investment portfolio and worrying obsessively about his IRA and 401K investments... and gun control. Don't step on his tail though, he screams exactly like a 4 year old girl.
Tiger-Wiley is next on the list. He was kind of dumped in my lap. I was cat sitting a female cat for a friend and discovered she was pregnant one morning, as she was giving birth at 5 am in my bed, inches away from my face. Good Morning! The cat had 5 kittens. One of them must have gotten in the middle of some kind of dog vs cat territory war and garnered himself a puncture wound straight through the top of his skull at just 4 weeks of age. I was certian he wasn't going to make it through the night.
He's 4 now.
He walks around the house talking loudly in a dialect of cat that Fluffy either doesn't understand or just deems him insignificant. fucker is always making noise. One of his favorite activities is singning the song of his people between 2 and 4 am, but only Sunday through Thursday. Prick. He also used to jump into your lap looking for attention in the way of a scratch or two. Once you started, though, he would wrap his paws around you and dig in with his razor sharp claws. Then he would follow this up with biting the skin between your thumb and index finger and refuse to let go.
He's a charmer.
Last on the list is Laney the Lab. She's a dick. If you come visit she will wait unitl you sit, run up to you, use her nose to pry your knees apart and then rub her ass between your legs. Talk about feeling violated. You are left not knowing weather your should put a single in her collar or feel violate... maybe both. She will only shit in the front yard and likes to rub the side of her body along the upstairs wall, leaving a dark line of dog yuck all along it. Gross. You clean it off and she goes right beack up there to re-lay it.
Her favorite place to eat is the cat box buffet. I swear to Gawd that I'm going to patent a new formula of dog food and get rich. I'm calling it either "Kibble and Shits" or "Pampers and Pieces." She spends more time eating Bugga's diapers out of the garbage than she does anything else.
Then she takes all the diapers and pulls them int oher crate with her, you know... so no one finds out.
The first time we discovered this was before the bay was born. Her crate used to be in our bedroom. One night I smelled this really odd odor and mentioned it to Ugga Bugga Dada. We could not find the source of the funk. After searching, we discovered it was Laney's crate. She had condiment containers. empty bags of bread, various food containers... Turns out his dog was a fucking hoarder. Awesome. We are still waiting for TLC to come and do her intervention.
What kind of asshole pets do you guys have? Leave stories in the form of comments below so I don't feel like a loser.
We'll start with Fluffy. He is a n 8 year old Mane Coon and also a future world leader. If you have not yet become acquainted with Fluffy, you can do so HERE. He's kind of an arrogant little bastard. For as big of a cat as he is, he has a very effeminate little meow. For a long time he would sleep in Middle-Boy's room... that is until Middle-Boy got tired of Fluffy hocking up hairballs on his bedding... Then he started locking him out. One night Middle-Boy and I were home alone in our respective bed rooms and we heard Fluffy start ot meow. Then, clear as day we heard the cat say "KYYYYY-UUUHHL".
Silence.
About a minute later, Middle-Boy (Kyle) comes in, looking a little pale, and says, "You heard that, right?" I just shook my head and we let it go. Otherwise, Fluffy just kind of slinks around the house looking like an arrogant little prick. Every once and a while he'll get a little catatonic (no pun intended) and spend a prolonged period of time staring at nothing. Sometimes he'll drool. I don't worry about it anymore though... I think he's just thinking about his investment portfolio and worrying obsessively about his IRA and 401K investments... and gun control. Don't step on his tail though, he screams exactly like a 4 year old girl.
Tiger-Wiley is next on the list. He was kind of dumped in my lap. I was cat sitting a female cat for a friend and discovered she was pregnant one morning, as she was giving birth at 5 am in my bed, inches away from my face. Good Morning! The cat had 5 kittens. One of them must have gotten in the middle of some kind of dog vs cat territory war and garnered himself a puncture wound straight through the top of his skull at just 4 weeks of age. I was certian he wasn't going to make it through the night.
He's 4 now.
He walks around the house talking loudly in a dialect of cat that Fluffy either doesn't understand or just deems him insignificant. fucker is always making noise. One of his favorite activities is singning the song of his people between 2 and 4 am, but only Sunday through Thursday. Prick. He also used to jump into your lap looking for attention in the way of a scratch or two. Once you started, though, he would wrap his paws around you and dig in with his razor sharp claws. Then he would follow this up with biting the skin between your thumb and index finger and refuse to let go.
He's a charmer.
Last on the list is Laney the Lab. She's a dick. If you come visit she will wait unitl you sit, run up to you, use her nose to pry your knees apart and then rub her ass between your legs. Talk about feeling violated. You are left not knowing weather your should put a single in her collar or feel violate... maybe both. She will only shit in the front yard and likes to rub the side of her body along the upstairs wall, leaving a dark line of dog yuck all along it. Gross. You clean it off and she goes right beack up there to re-lay it.
Her favorite place to eat is the cat box buffet. I swear to Gawd that I'm going to patent a new formula of dog food and get rich. I'm calling it either "Kibble and Shits" or "Pampers and Pieces." She spends more time eating Bugga's diapers out of the garbage than she does anything else.
Then she takes all the diapers and pulls them int oher crate with her, you know... so no one finds out.
The first time we discovered this was before the bay was born. Her crate used to be in our bedroom. One night I smelled this really odd odor and mentioned it to Ugga Bugga Dada. We could not find the source of the funk. After searching, we discovered it was Laney's crate. She had condiment containers. empty bags of bread, various food containers... Turns out his dog was a fucking hoarder. Awesome. We are still waiting for TLC to come and do her intervention.
What kind of asshole pets do you guys have? Leave stories in the form of comments below so I don't feel like a loser.
I Done Gotz Me a Blog!!!
Welcome to the Dark Side... Sorry about the misunderstanding, but as the name states, there are no cookies. It was just a clever ploy to get you here... and I see it worked.
A bit about me and what you just signed up for: I am a 34 year old mother of three who uses humor as a survival tactic. I must say, it works divinely. My boys are 17, 14 and 15 months old. Some people have a mid life crisis and buy a Corvette and don a Member's Only jacket; I apparently have a baby.
I work full time outside of the home running a call center. My educational background is in special education and behavioral disorders, so the job placement worked out perfectly.
I am living in sin with my youngest son's dad. We met online years ago on MySpace and in 2010 I convinced him to come visit me in Chicago and, well... Here we are.
What you see here will be a glimpse inside the ordinary life of someone who has an insane sense of humor. I feel like this initial blog has to be an introductory of sorts, so after I post this one, I will feel free to randomly update with the daily insanity that ensues around here.
What else should I tell you....
Fuck it. I'll let Ugga Bugga take it from here. He's a bit of a rock star....
Well, I hope you enjoy your time here. In between blogs, I urge you to check out some friends of mine:
http://sliceofhumble.blogspot.com
http://www.wantadumpsterbaby.com/
http://theklonopinchronicles.blogspot.com/
These three beautiful and intelligent ladies are what inspired me to share my insanity with you all.
A big shout out to I Want a Dumpster Baby on the arrival of her twins... Good things DO happen to good people, yo. She is living proof. Not only inspiring, but hysterically funny.
Humble has the most gorgeous children EVER! Her little premie miracle Jedi is about the same age as Ugga Bugga. Just a doll! She's got a great out look on life.
Klonnie is a goddess. I don't know how she does it, but she does...
Anyway... Stay tuned! Tomorrow I'll post again and we'll get down to business.
'NITE!
A bit about me and what you just signed up for: I am a 34 year old mother of three who uses humor as a survival tactic. I must say, it works divinely. My boys are 17, 14 and 15 months old. Some people have a mid life crisis and buy a Corvette and don a Member's Only jacket; I apparently have a baby.
I work full time outside of the home running a call center. My educational background is in special education and behavioral disorders, so the job placement worked out perfectly.
I am living in sin with my youngest son's dad. We met online years ago on MySpace and in 2010 I convinced him to come visit me in Chicago and, well... Here we are.
What you see here will be a glimpse inside the ordinary life of someone who has an insane sense of humor. I feel like this initial blog has to be an introductory of sorts, so after I post this one, I will feel free to randomly update with the daily insanity that ensues around here.
What else should I tell you....
Fuck it. I'll let Ugga Bugga take it from here. He's a bit of a rock star....
Well, I hope you enjoy your time here. In between blogs, I urge you to check out some friends of mine:
http://sliceofhumble.blogspot.com
http://www.wantadumpsterbaby.com/
http://theklonopinchronicles.blogspot.com/
These three beautiful and intelligent ladies are what inspired me to share my insanity with you all.
A big shout out to I Want a Dumpster Baby on the arrival of her twins... Good things DO happen to good people, yo. She is living proof. Not only inspiring, but hysterically funny.
Humble has the most gorgeous children EVER! Her little premie miracle Jedi is about the same age as Ugga Bugga. Just a doll! She's got a great out look on life.
Klonnie is a goddess. I don't know how she does it, but she does...
Anyway... Stay tuned! Tomorrow I'll post again and we'll get down to business.
'NITE!