Welfare Mommy

Dear Old Lady Client Who I Thought Was Sweet

2011-11-05T20:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Old Lady Client Who I Thought Was Sweet,

I am sorry I took the time to be polite and use my "customer service skills". You were okay with being over income for food stamps. I thought that I would help get the verifications for the other Worker who had your Welfcare application. It was the "customer-service friendly" thing to do!
By that time the Front Desk had already taken your name and fingerprints (standard policy and all). It would have been done regardless of which Worker interviewed you for the Public Assistance Benefits.

I thought you were funny and you had some great stories to tell; you are 77 years old! You live in your car in the WalMart parking lot fercryingoutloud, I almost wanted to ask you home for dinner! It broke my heart that you were technically "over income" for food stamps. You knew it, you seemed okay with it, you asked me if one day I could help you use the computer to look for "unclaimed property". You shook my hand and thanked me, told me all of your questions had been answered and told me I was a "very sweet woman who obviously cared about people."

Then you repeatedly called my Supervisor to complain that your Civil Rights were being violated. No reason why, just that they had been severely violated. And when she didn't call you back in an hour (because she wasn't there that day) you called the Program Supervisor and complained that your Civil Rights and been violated. And she got her Boss involved. Only after a whole bunch of shit rolled downhill (guess who was on the bottom?) did you bother mentioning that your civil right that was violated??? That was when they fingerprinted you and then you didn't get food stamps, and how the application had the gall to ask you if you had used any previous names.

...

What?... Really?

Hiding something? My advice is don't apply for government assistance and then call the bigwigs at the State.

No love,
Brokemom the Welfare Worker

My Client Said To Me

2011-10-09T22:17:00.000-07:00

To get welfare one must provide proof of immunizations for children or sign a waiver. Because I personally associate with friends/families that do not immunize their children, it is natural for me to be aware enough of personal choice to ask the young single mother client if she immunizes her children, rather then just assume. I would want someone to ask me.
Anyhow, I ask her.

She looks up at me with a confused look on her face and says, "Yeah, I'm not, like, organic or anything."

I Think They're Listening

2011-10-09T22:15:00.000-07:00

Sometimes at night I go outside and tell my troubles to the trees.

Things I Can't Say At Work

2011-08-10T22:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Client,

I do understand your urgent need for Cash Assistance. After all, babies cost money! Right? I know that Johny's in the slammer and your food stamps just aren't cutting it and the electric bill! Whoohoo! I totally get that. What I don't understand is why you keep having more children!? If you can't afford the ones you have why in heaven's name are ya having more??

Fer fuck's sake lady.

It's A Really Really Long Time

2011-04-10T22:30:00.001-07:00

I've been employed at the Welfare Office for five years. I feel like a completely different person than the woman who started this blog. I was funnier. (No really, I was).

I was thinner and accessorized better. I was more naive and self-centered.

Different isn't always a bad thing. I still see the funny in things, it's just more subtle...or maybe I've learned to keep my mouth a little more shut.

I'm fatter than I was, but I actually like myself. I have no problem with my weight; it's my health I'd like to improve.

I have three of the world's best kids and a Husband who has faithfully attended Anger Management classes this past year of our separation in order to make it work. And I'm thinking of letting him come back, because I am still so completely and totally in love with him that it makes sense.

I have learned that I have a strength inside of me that I didn't know existed and it won't fail me. I've learned that many many things can be overcome by the power of Positive Thinking (not kidding. I weaned myself off of Prozac three months ago and am still fine).

I am good at my job (97%-100% accurate actually) and I still enjoy my job very much. I like helping people that need it. I love finding that gray area between the regulations and REAL LIFE (without breaking any rules) and straddling that line in order for REAL PEOPLE to get the help that, in my opinion, should be available to everyone who needs it.

Five years has gone by so very slooooooooowly. Thank goodness I cannot remember it all. But the things I can remember helped make me this awesome girl I am now. And part of that is never forgetting where I came from...Welfare Mommy. Welfare Worker.

Wipe Your Feet

2011-02-27T20:45:00.000-08:00

I sit and think about love sometimes. What love is. How to define love. How love feels.

I sit and I think and I think and I think.

What if it's not "love"? What if I'm just a doormat?
A fine line, yes; who defines the line?

All By Myself

2011-01-09T21:51:00.000-08:00

I have figured out that the moments I like best are the ones where I am alone; where it is just me. I can sit and think. Think think think about anything and everything. There are no phones to answer, no children to tend to. I got an hour and a half of Me Time just this evening.

I can think about work. I think about my drawers of cases, not just cases, but people with different lives and circumstances and problems that I enjoy helping. I love my job. I just got a raise!

I can think about my personal life, my emotional well-being. My wardrobe. I think about how I'm going to begin an MS treatment called Avonex. I will have to give myself a fricking shot every week. Yuck. But my eyesight is getting worse and my days of ignoring it are gone. Can you believe it, there were actually days and days where I didn't think about my MS at all? And then something would remind me and I'd almost startle, to have put it from my mind for such a time! Perhaps that helped me process the disease to myself...I was sad, I was angry. I was irritated and then chose a forgetful denial. I remain sad. Irritated. But I can't just pretend it doesn't exist any longer. Dammit.

I think about how I have given up fast food and sometimes all I want is a Jack In the Box breakfast sammich. MMMM. But I won't give in, nope.

The feeling of rejuvenation, the relaxation after I get said time to myself is the perfect beginning to another week. Ugh, which is tomorrow.

Don't Ask Me Why I'm Sitting In My Car In The Dark

2011-01-09T21:48:00.000-08:00

The radio just played commercials for a tattoo shop and then a marijuana shop. I think that's awesome. Just the freedom of speech and progressiveness of our generation and blah blah blah.

Just To Think

2011-01-02T12:26:00.000-08:00

It's been eight months since I left Husband. He's sweet and charming still, mostly. Sometimes there are blinding moments of clarity when I'm near him, the flashes of "Oh THANK GOODNESS I left him because he's an asshole". I call these moments my Weekly Dose of Reality. He lives in his place across town, I live in mine. We co-parent effectively. We try to be "friends". We still have sex.

I know, I know. What the fuck am I doing, you ask? Eh...I've never been a conventional girl. I also think that the rules don't apply to me. We absolutely cannot live together, we realize that. But there's nobody else we'd rather be with than each other.

A case of the grass is still green over here and there aren't any other pastures? Perhaps. But as much as I'd like to call it 'just fucking', he and I both know that it's not. We kiss and make love/have mindblowing sex and cuddle, and then I leave for my own house.

It's working for us. It's working better now then it has for the last five years. I get my own space, don't have to pay his bills or listen to his bullshit, and get all the orgasms I want. Imagine that.

The Next Part

2010-12-05T18:27:00.000-08:00

Alright, so irritated as I was (am) with these lesions, the next step was a spinal tap. Lumbar puncture. Giant needle going into my body while I am curled in a fetal position as my India-born Nuerologist is behind me (he's the guy with the needle) and it was NOT a fun experience, but it wasn't as bad as I had heard about. The first needle was the anesthesia and that poke hurt like a bitch. And the second needle? Well, I could tell it was larger, and the feeling of just a Wrongness, this pressure in the middle of my body was just...ick. It didn't hurt, it just felt waaaay odd.

And when I first got there and had to change into a hospital gown I didn't realize there was a fricking camera in a black bubble on the ceiling and somebody got a free show, but I've dealt with that.

I waited weeks for the results of that test. Finally, when I couldn't stand it anymore, I moved my Monday appointment to the Friday before. Long story short (and it was short because my Dr India doesn't really like to chat. He mutters and I catch a few words and ask him to repeat it. I continue this way until I have gleaned all the information I can from him) I have fricking Multiple Sclerosis. Blast it.

The next week I went to the hospital every evening for five days for an IV drip of a super-steroid called Solu Medrol. Dr. India said it would help reduce the inflammation on my optic nerve and perhaps my vision would improve. So I said Why The Fuck Not? (I didn't really say that.) I educated myself on the process beforehand. I read the studies and side-effects and benefits and disclaimers and balogna and decided to do it. My vision is that bad. So I went and I didn't have to get undressed, which was awesome. I got t o sit in an armchair and watch a tv with real channels(!) as a nurse jabbed another big fricking needle in my arm to put poison in me. It hurt and it tasted HORRIBLE ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE the nastiness of the nasty. It wasn't a taste, more like a ...smell-taste. It's hard to describe. I could smell-taste the saline they cleared my vein with first too, but it was tolerable. The SoluMedrol tastes like dirty old copper pennies in the back of your throat. Oh lord it was HORRIBLE. Sorry, I'm remembering how HORRIBLE it was.Yech! Anyhow, I had a pain in my arm and the drip had to be slowed, which meant it then took forever but that was all right because I got to watch the new Hoarders which is always good.

I got to leave this thing in my arm (the needle and some tubing) so they didn't have to repoke me. It was bandaged up quite nicely. I learned after the first night to put some cotton or gauze under the tubing so my skin wasn't hurting pushed against it all night. This was hard for me to deal with. It's not that I hate needles. I give blood on a regular basis. It's just the whole...thing. I don't understand it. I hate IVs. I begged my OB/GYN with my last pregnancy to please don't let them put an IV in me pleeease but got to have one anyways dammit and all I did was bug the nurses until they let me take it out. I didn't want a needle to come home with me! I suffered through this for five days. The horrible taste? It wasn't AS bad as the very first time, but it was still gross. And everything afterwards tastes okay in your mouth, but as soon as it hits the back of your throat ICK. I learned to eat before I started the treatment.

Next time we're going to talk about the side effects from the SoluMedrol. They were superfuckedup and I just got over them 9/10. 9/26 was the first day I felt "normal" since going through this treatment.

Thought You Should Know

2010-12-05T18:12:00.000-08:00

In May I had a sinus infection. I get them all the time. I've learned to deal with them naturally, meaning no meds. I'm not a person who likes to take pills and medicines. I'd much rather not take anything, but I'm certainly not opposed to in ibuprofin for a headache and some Tums for heartburn, little stuff. I absolutely hate to take antibiotics. I have developed a love/hate relationship with a Neti Pot to deal with the sinus infections. It's awkward but it works. This is where it all started.

I had just finished using the pot and was looking in the mirror. There was a smudge in my line of vision. I walked out of the bathroom into the hall and the smudge in my right eye was still there. Everywhere I looked with my eye was obscured. I took of my glasses and cleaned them, put em back on...smudge!

It just got worse over the next few weeks. The smudge was sometimes darker, colors were different...like one eyeball was shaded. A television screen a shade too dark. Offputting, yes. Irritating, yes. It was Summer and I live where it gets HOT. Northern California. Summers can get up to 115 degrees, sometimes even more. It was hot outside and for some reason every time I went outside in the heat I got SO FRICKIN TIRED that I could barely function. It was almost like I was drugged I was so tired. But guess what? As soon as I cooled down, I was fine. Normal me. There was also the embarassing problem with going to the bathroom. All of a sudden, if I had to pee then godammit go go go gotta go right now hold moly kinda pee it was. I'll admit it, Internet. I peed myself one time.

I went to my Eye Doctor. She sent me to a Better Eye Doctor. Better ED was very pleasant, took the time and effort and tests into helping to figure out why my vision was different. He told me that everything was fine in my eye, which basically meant it was behind my eye that was the potential problem. And here it is, what changed at that moment in my life. It's as if now the globe just sort of...tilted a little on its axis...but of course, it was nothing. Sitting in Better ED's office, he mentions that I should go have an MRI. I really hate the idea of big metal clicky-clacky things radiating my brain for pictures, so I told him I would think about it. He told me that I was the right age and sex (female in her 30s) and we lived in the right place and that I might have Multiple Sclerosis.

I went to my GP for a physical and for bloodwork to rule out anything abnormal. Turns out I had a severe Vitamin D deficiency and everything else was fine. I gave up drinking coffee, switching to herbal tea. I gave up artificial sweetners and alcohol. I waited and waited for my vision to get better, to feel better. It didn't. It seemed like my vision just kept getting worse, but really, it wasn't getting better. Not worse. But not better.

So I went and had an MRI done. It was not scary, the nurses covered up my toes so I wasn't cold, blah blah blah. No big deal. I tried not to think about what was being directed towards my wonderful brain tissue. It wasn't a bad experience but I would rather not have to do it again. Eventually the results were given as my wonderous brain has lesions on it. Lesions! Even the word sounds nasty. Diseased. Not happy. Fucking lesions on my brain.

Somebody's Dead Meat

2010-10-10T23:01:00.000-07:00

WHAT the frick. I spent almost 15 minutes in Costco today debating over paying $2.35 p/lb on a delicious ham. It was a $20 ham. I thought long and hard about that purchase. Mmmm. I was going to open it up and cook it Tuesday, its honey-glaze hot and tasty, and maybe a baked potato. So I buy this ham. I carefully drive it home and put it in the 'fridge. THEN my father comes over and (while i was outside),he opens it and makes himself a GODAMN HAM SANDWICH!.!!!

Oooh, I am SO irritated.

That Which Is Mine

2010-09-20T22:35:00.000-07:00

I have held onto my self-respect, my attitude, my children and family, my sanity, my job, and many other things. I'm so proud of myself.
I reside in my house that doesn't move when I walk (ok creaky subflooring) with windows that I don't have to wipe down condensation from in the winter. I could go on, but basically, it's a firm foundation and not a fifth-wheel trailer. Thank goodness. This last year was difficult. Do I seem a fifth-wheel livin' kinda gal? Hm? You're correct, I am not. I gave it a damm good try though. Damn good. I can't wait to see what the next few months bring. I can't remember when I last felt that way about life.

The Crazy Man In The Corner

2010-05-30T10:43:00.000-07:00

Sometimes holding a conversation with Husband is exhausting. Confusing. Irritating.
Speaking of Husband, what do I call him? We're not together (yay) and we're not going to be together (yay) and calling him Husband implies that he is still in that role. Hmmm....I'll think of something (other than Asshole or Dirtbag, that is).

What I have come to realize is that when talking with him, I need to pretend (ha!) that he is someone with a mental illness. Undiagnosed. If I went to hang out at Mental Health for some function, I would not assume that the conversation I hold with a patient is going to be understood and conveyed in a manner that sane people do. Not. At. All.

So I alternate between treating him like a child and treating him as "special". Because otherwise I will drive myself bonkers in trying to have a normal conversation with someone who is incapable of doing so.

We're Having What For Dinner?!

2010-05-24T20:18:00.000-07:00

J2 just turned 9. She is a bright, charming, mostly-happy child who also happens to have an adorable habit of mis-speaking. While serving me "dinner" (plastic food yum) she also went through her spiel of what was on the menu.

"We have hot dogs, eggs, peppers, bacon, waffles, crustaceans, tomato and hmm..."

At this point I am busting with laughter. The crustaceans? It was a CROISSANT!

The Best Part

2010-05-07T22:39:00.000-07:00

I still have to see him. We are polite, he is friendly. I am...more distanced, I suppose. Cooler. Easily annoyed with him. He lives in the mini-house, I in a teeny spare room in a real house. Messy seems to be adapting to different nights with either Mom or Dad, but never Both.

Husband was initiating a conversation with me, which means he tells me what I "need" to do while feigning concern for "our" well-being. I got that feeling in the pit of my stomach, the tightening and tension because I am not comfortable with the subject he wants to discuss. I tell him that I will think it over and we can discuss it tomorrow. I was relaxed, or at least, I had been until he started badgering me to talk about it now blah blah.

Are you ready for the best part??? Ready?

I walked away. I told him "Goodnight" and I walked away. It felt good, it felt cleansing, it felt powerful.

I Can See Clearly Now, the Bullshit Is Gone

2010-05-04T23:38:00.000-07:00

Ok, the bullshit is still there, but I can distance myself from the love that I felt/feel? for this man enough to hear what he's not saying. It was payday today, which means bills need to be paid and shopping trips must be made. So we agreed to be polite and non-confrontational while attending to mundane matters like laundry soap and toilet paper. Together.

I listen to him blubber on about how he loves me and will never find another and blabber blah (standard stuff). He talks about how maybe he shouldn't have been so uptight about the house being clean and he should have been easier on the girls (who are not here right now). How he will go to counseling.

He isn't pushy. Not demanding. He is charming and funny. He tears up every now and then, but not in an attention-getting way.

I glance at him while he's speaking, and imagine me in my own place. I can get up in the morning and turn on the tv. Blow-dry my hair. I can have friends. I can sleep by myself and not wake up when he rolls over, scared that he's going to wake up and bitch about theblanketsthebabythemessmystinkyfart and eleventymillion other things he complained about.

He talks about how he wants to "try", no, not try but "really try", and I think about the counseling session and the cycle of violence and how I really miss myself and how it's been three mornings in a row now where I didn't want to drive my car off of a steep highway curve with my eyes closed.

He looks at me, pleading. I smile, and tell him, again, that I will never share a roof with him. And then I change the subject. Messy and I gather our overnight-away-stuff, and we leave.

2010-05-01T17:39:00.001-07:00

I told him I didn't want to live with him anymore. He did not get grrrr, just...sad. Tried to engage me in conversation about the "Us" and "We" and "Trying" and "pms". Yes, that time of the month. To guilt, to manipulate. So to bolster my decision to leave him, I am posting this which I wrote a few months ago. I couldn't do it earlier. Honestly, I'm not sure I want to do it now. It hurts my heart to read it.

DECEMBER 13, 2009: MEAN PEOPLE AND ALCOHOL DON'T MIX

A few months ago, after a particularly bad episode where my husband was drinking and then got physical with me, we made the vow that we wouldn't drink alcohol anymore. My husband told me that he recognized that when he drinks he feels "meaner and get angrier faster". I am not a big drinker, preferring my rooms to stay still and not spin, so this was no big deal to not drink. I was very happy that my husband realized that his drinking was a problem. We decided that we could have alcohol on "special occasions", namely holidays.

We went to a party last night, a holiday-family-friendly-gingerbread-decorating-party. Alcohol was served to the adults. We never go out, so we both agreed that this was a "special occasion". After a few drinks, my husband decided he needed more alcohol. (This was after 7 Fat Tire beers and two inches of whiskey.) I felt a little warning tug in my belly, but realized the frame of mind he was in; nothing was going to dissuade him. He went to the store, came back with a small bottle of Jack, and proceeded to drink almost the entire bottle. (I had some, maybe a shot or two.)

Eleven o'clock at night, the babies are getting tired and he is losing at poker. The subtle comments start, little references that only I would understand. He asked Messy to sit in his lap, then when Messy starts to whine, passes him to me and remarks "five days a week, I'm done". (Referring to his SAHD status). Husband's jokes are not very funny anymore, and everyone can tell that he is trying too hard.

I am sitting at the poker table. The following story was related to me by the children in the other room....
He walks into the bedroom where the children are playing, and tells Big J that she is driving home (joking). Big J replies that he doesn't have a car or a license. (Kinda' true-my car, and his license is currently suspended.) He freaks out on her, calls her "an ass" three times (let's keep in mind she's 12) and he then proceeds to scoop up Messy and slams out to the car, yelling at me that he is leaving me because my daughter is a "pole-dancing slut" and she's a "little cunt".
Seriously? SHE"S TWELVE YEARS OLD!! He then tells me that she told him to fuck off.

I raised a good girl. I know that she is not disrespectful. I know that she would never ever EVER say "fuck" to an adult. I asked her what happened, and her story was the same as everyone else in the room.

I follow my husband out to the car to talk to him, and he drives away. He watches me trying to get into the car and he drives away. I yell to him that if he continues, I will call 911 and report the car as stolen. He stops, gets out, and tells me that my daughter is disrespectful and says more unflattering things about her. He asks me if I believe him. I tell him no.

I don't believe him. He tells me that I am letting my daughter ruin our relationship, walks to the car, calls me a "fucking slut" and leaves.

Why would a grown man expect me to choose him over my child? Perhaps he doesn't understand the love a parent has for their child. Perhaps he honestly thought I would agree with him? I am so very tired of this...

Done

2010-05-01T10:49:00.000-07:00

I am writing it down. I am going to leave. I am so scared. I am so scared I won't do it.

But I will. I am.

Does anybody read this? Do you pray to whatever god/ess you believe in? Think of me then. Pray that I find the courage and the strength to do what needs to be done. Please. I think I'm going to need all the help I can get.

Life Lessons From a 13 Year Old

2010-04-25T10:20:00.000-07:00

My daughter was watching 'Finding Nemo' with her little brother yesterday. For the elevently-millionth time. When it was over, she joined me at the table and became chatty.

"Wow, Mom. It's too bad what Coral did to Marlin, huh?"

I replied, "What, getting eaten by a large fish while trying to save her children? Yeah, what a bitch." (I can say "bitch" to my daughter because of her age. With Middle I would have censored to "slut". No, just kidding!)

"Mom, how can you say that? It's obvious that the large fish was Coral's lover. She told him she was trying to end things with Marlin, but when he saw the large home that she and Marlin had just bought he went crazy. Coral took her eggs and went with her lover!"

....thinking....how the hell do I respond to that?....

"Oh!" I say. "What about the Nemo egg that gets left behind?! Hmm? What about that?"

"Mom, she forgot that one. She didn't see it and they had to leave in a hurry. Sheesh!"

I think I need to start taking more of an interest in what she's reading.

The Saga Continues

2010-03-28T22:19:00.000-07:00

Every time I think of the words that I need to write, I clam up. I lose them completely. It has been that way for a long time now, months even. So I will sit here and type whatever comes from my brain until I get it once again; until I can put it down and out there and be better for having it out and not in my head.

Another Sunday morning. Yesterday was Another Saturday morning. Same place. Same people. Same grumpy man yelling about how he never gets any sleep (toddler time) and how he hates me and wants to leave and disappear with his son (who turns two soon!) and how I'm lazy (still working full-time with less benefits yup!) and then today it was he would rather be with his ex-wife than me (the evil woman who stole his children reported to me through email of his previous verbal-abuse!) and other blah blah blah while telling me that I'm being a bitch and treating him like shit.

I'll cut to the good stuff, when the kids were gone. I am leaving to go to the store (I'm the only one who has a driver license so i do all the everything!) and when I step down the stairs, I notice his shoes on the second step. The steps are the creepy ones i thought as a child i would fall! with no back to them? ...? Go on and tell me you wouldn't do the same! I kick his shoes backwards to the ground (just to be a bitch go me!) and then he kicks me in the ribs.

What. The. Fuck. Seriously? Motherfucker just kicked me???? So I slowly straighten up and walk to the car. I get in and lock the door. I had time to do this because i kicked his shoes to the ground go me! I call the men in blue later and file a report.

Even though they let him out, I got to see him sit in the back of a squad car for a few minutes. That was pretty nice. The officer told me that my "husband seemed shaken up a bit" and then told me Husband reported that he "accidently stepped on" me. Husband had mentioned this to me earlier as well, after seeing me dial nine one and one.

What the Fuck EVEN MORE! First the asshole has the audacity to kick while my back was turned but then he doesn't even have the balls to admit he did it on purpose! If I had any respect for the man left, it would be lowered by this.

Whatever. I'm going to watch mindless tv so that I won't think about tomorrow, won't think about how my ribs hurt on one side, and i have to get up early and how my sweet baby boy is going to grow up learning that this is how you treat women and I'm not ok with that.

What Comes After Happily Ever After?

2009-12-05T09:48:00.001-08:00

It was never mentioned in school or health class. My parents never mentioned it. The stories end with it, but....that's it. Happily Ever After. What comes next? That's not the end.

I thought I'd found the one man I wanted to spend my life with, raise my children with, grow old with...but honestly, I can't stand him most of the time. When things are good, they are good. He smells nice, he's clean, he cooks dinner, he helps around the house. The sex is good.

When things are bad though....they are bad. He has a temper-control problem and cannot handle his emotions when angry. He's never smacked me around, but that doesn't mean he's not abusive, because he can be. Emotionally abusive, verbally abusive...and yeah, on two occasions it has been physical. Each time afterwards he is sorry (of course) and we talk, and he resolves to "do better" and "be in control". When he's out of nicotine? Oh, better run, because the emotions coming from him are palpable...you can almost feel the anger from him.

There's always a next time. I never thought I'd be "one of those women". I took a class and was certified as a Domestic Violence outreach educator fercryinoutloud! I was not supposed to be one of those women.

But I guess I am.

Every Saturday morning he wakes up grumpy. Every Saturday morning he wakes up yelling and screaming "fuck" into his pillow. Imagine a three-year-old with a severe potty-mouth throwing a tantrum. That is my husband. Why is he so grumpy, you ask? Because it is 8am (sometimes 7:30am) and he "doesn't get any sleep". I see your confusion, let me explain. Because we live in a teeny tiny space, when the Toddler-Monster wakes up, so does everyone. And my husband apparently thinks that toddlers sleep until....9am? 10am? I'm not sure, because when I ask him what time he thinks is a good time to awaken, I get yelled at.

This morning was the same. It was 8:30am. I am elated, because I never get to sleep past 7am. Never. 8:30am was blissful heaven angels singing time. Not for long. The yelling started. Then the bad words started. He mentions he would like to get some sleep. (Ten hours isn't enough apparently). I told him that I would like to have this discussion "later, when the children aren't around". He flips a lid and he starts asking me what we need to talk about. I repeat that we can talk about it later. I am calm. I am not snotty, I am not a bitch. I have my son in my lap, we are constructing a Lego castle. My husband freaks and takes our son into his arms, yelling at me that we don't need to talk later, we can talk now and godammit what do we have to talk about that we can't talk about right this very second in front of the kids. I ask him to walk away, because he is not in control. He is getting up in my face, asking why can't we talk now. I try to explain that this is what I wanted to avoid, arguing in front of the kids, but now we are arguing about arguing...in front of the kids.

I can see my life without him. It is calm, no emotional upheavals and no nicotine addiction leading my emotions. There is blessed quiet. My daughter doesn't cry anymore over the arguing. My son doesn't hear his dad start yelling and squish over inch by inch until he is in my lap looking at me with wide eyes. The mornings are relaxing, coffee and some tv and some cleaning.

I can see my lonely nights of sleeping alone. I can see getting someone else to take the time to fix a broken something. Meals are one me, and I see nights of Ramen and burned rice-a-roni and tacos (the only thing I can make that's edible). I can see 50/50 custody and split holidays and missing my son like crazy when it's not my turn to be with him. I see daycare and less money and more to do.

Is marriage this difficult? I was never told that it takes work, that it's difficult, that sometimes you have to grit your teeth and smile when you don't feel like it. How do I know what is "normal" and what isn't?

If this is my happily ever after, I want a refund.

My Husband Smells

2009-09-06T15:41:00.000-07:00

It's true, he does! Just not in a bad way.

No one else can smell it. When I first met him, I smelled it. He showed me his room, and the entire place smelled. I thought it was cologne or air freshener.

His clothes smelled of it, as did his pillow. It took me a few months to realize it was him. Not air freshener, not laundry soap, but him. It comes from him, from his pores...I stand next to him and just breath in because it smells like nothing I've ever smelled before. I stand in front of his side of the closet and smell his clothes. This smell smells GOOD. I mean, GOOD. Like, I want to bottle it up and sit there like a junkie and just sniff it.

It doesn't smell like anything I can describe. There's not a scent I can compare it to. It's just a delicious yummy smell that smells so DAMN GOOD that it makes me want to rip my clothes off and maul him. I know it must be some pheremone thing or whatnot, because I am more sensitive to it when I'm ovulating. It affects me more then, but it smells good all the time.

I lay awake in the morning and burrow my face close to him and just ....ahhhhh....breathe in. I will stand close to him in the kitchen and just breathe in. I will take a nap and lay my face down in his pillow and just breathe in.

I've never smelled anyone else before like this. I've never reacted so strongly to SMELL BEFORE. Certainly not the smell of a person! Sometimes I think I must be off my rocker....and then I go smell some more. That's me over there, in the corner? I'm holding on to that t-shirt and sniffing it?

Ahhhhh........

More For Me

2009-08-09T15:40:00.000-07:00

I am really enjoying Trailer Life. I didn't know how it would be, how I would become accustomed to living there...but I am having the time of my life. I should have listened to Husband and done it sooner. (Don't tell him that though, I would never hear the end of it)

Yes, it's small, but that makes it easier to clean. Yes, I don't have a dryer, but I found myself enjoying the laundry I was hanging to dry this morning. I was humming. It's great exercise, and I certainly seem thinner to my clothes, so something I am doing is working!

I like that Husband and I work together on tasks, be it cooking dinner (I'm just the helper) or building the deck (again, just a helper). We are both making an effort to actively work on our marriage and not just shut down when things get tough.

We are making an effort to save money, pay bills on time, and will eventually be able to pay some of the waaaaaaaay past-due child support he owes his other kids. His ex-wife would, rather than come to an agreement we can afford, get absolutely nothing at all, but that is a story for another time.

My children will be better off with this life, my marriage is better, my self is better. I don't feel the need to question if I should start my anti-depressants again because I know I am ok. That's all I need....to be okay.

Whew!

2009-07-21T10:18:00.000-07:00

Moving done! Cleaning done! Saving the money I *don't* need to pay rent? Uh....not saving really. More like spending. I love to indulge myself and my children, and why not? It's been so long since we were able to do that.

Loving my "little house". I am not really a cleaning type of woman (Husband does most of that), but I might be able to get into it somehow since there's not much space to get dirty!

I should have done this a long time ago. In two years we will have the money saved to build a Real House. That is, if I don't spend it all on new shoes...

A Quick Moment

2009-07-18T15:30:00.000-07:00

Okay, so moving is SHIT. I HATE moving. I have also figured out that I am completely fucking psychotic and never throw anything away. Those do not go hand-in-hand. They are completely seperate problems, one of which I can fix. Guess which one?

A Very Important Part of Me

2009-07-03T22:32:00.000-07:00

Part of me is very stubborn. Okay, quite a bit of me in fact. That same part of me also happens to very resistant to a change of routine. Not, to say, the routine of a normal day where breakfast is at 8 and the floors are scrubbed every Saturday, sex is at 10:45 Thursday evenings and Friday night it's Potroast Night. Always.

That kind of routine is not my thing. No no no. My routines are paying the bills every month at the same time and not balancing my checkbook (this works out better than you'd think), always take time for Messy when he hands me a book, keep the same boxes of crap around whatever garage I happen to be renting for years because I can't get rid of it (change! oh no!), and moving on when I am all done in a situation.

My Very Important Part is screaming inside because I am about to let go of my life as I know it and embark on something new and different. I made a permanant decision that affects my life, my children's and my husband's lives. Wait that looks like i have more than one husband doesn't it? Only one, I'm not in Utah.

After discussing it for quite some time, my husband and I reached an agreement. It was really me who agreed, he has been on board forever. We agreed to purchase a fifth wheel trailer to live in, on some property I own. Yes, all of us. All five. Upon agreeing on that aspect of it, we proceeded to purchase said fifth wheel in a 2009 edition that has all sorts of bells and whistles and contraptions that we will have to learn together, Internet and myself. After we did that, we had fifth wheel delivered and now we are scrambling for boxes in which to store EVERYTHING FROM MY WHOLE LIFE BECAUSE YOU CAN'T FIT THAT MUCH LIFE IN A TRAILER! It only sleeps 8 (little people i think) so there is no room for anything else.

That is where we are right now. My Very Important Part is freaking, because I can't back out. I have trailer payments which happen to be 1/3 of my current rent, which sums up the main motivation of my move: money.

C'mere and I'll Tell You a Secret

2009-06-20T22:39:00.000-07:00

That geeky looking guy on the Verizon network commericals? I totally have a crush on him.

The Cheese Stands Alone

2009-06-19T23:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Internet,

I am in love with you, I am...but there's someone else right now. I am having an affair with Farm Town on Facebook. I know, I know what you are thinking, and you're wrong I tell you, wrong! I'll get bored of the mindless click-click of plowing and planting and harvesting. One day, I'll be back.

Love,
brokemom (who is really a broke mom with mounting pressure to shit-or-get-off-the-pot in a vicious circle of catch-22 fuckmylife situations while she ignores it by scwelching it with farmtown flava' and talking about herself in the third person)

P.S. FarmTown gives better head than you.

Last Day of School

2009-06-04T18:55:00.000-07:00

J1 just graduated sixth grade. (With a straight 'C' average even! I blame the cell phone which has been confiscated for the summer!) I asked her about how her day had been.

She replied, "We were supposed to have 'Fun In the Sun' Day. Instead, we had 'Do Whatever You Want Because We Don't Care' Day."

Sounds like another great year is over and done with!

Sunday Quickie

2009-05-17T13:02:00.000-07:00

The Bellagio Fountains were the most beautiful thing in Vegas. I love classical music, I love water, so combine the two together and I had tears rolling down my face. Just a few...very embarassing.

I'll bet you read this thinking I was gonna be dirty.

Pass The Pepah'. The Cayenne Pepah'?

2009-05-12T21:26:00.000-07:00

I heard on the radio today that the average American household spends $140 on toilet paper a year. $140. That doesn't really surprise me, it seems like a good figure.

I spend about $10 a month on toilet paper. I buy the cheap brand, but believe you me, I get irritated at having to pay that $10. It used to be cheaper. Dammit.
So we know that $10 a month for a year is $120. And you know those two extra months out of the year when you get an "extra" biweekly paycheck? Like that. One must have to buy an extra package of paper. Easy, $140.

I'm driving home from work thinking to myself after hearing this on the radio. i could do that all in one swoop I think. $140 is not that much at a time for a whole year of shopping! I would never have to worry about running out again. Why hadn't I thought of this before?!

I share my news with Husband, what a great plan! He brings me back to reality with thoughtless questions such as:

"How are you going to get all of that toilet paper home?"

and

"Where are you going to keep all of it?"

Hmm..... I buy 24 roll packs. (Packs? Packs of toilet paper? Packages? Units?) They are pretty cumbersome.

Dammit. The toilet pepah'.

J2 Was Singing and I Wrote It Down

2009-05-10T13:50:00.000-07:00

Ok, while you're reading this you must kind of hum the words along to a tune...but what tune? That wasn't really reflected in the song to me either, so just kind of hum any ol' thing that's not too busy. Think three or four different notes.

"Deep down...where I found your schooooool..
and where you make room for yoooouuuuuu...
In your house I find your poooool,
In your pool I find yoooouuuu...
You ask me if I want to come innnnnn
I say no but I would if I could
and you ask me whyyyyy
and I say because my mom doesn't let me go into poooools...
You say 'why not just this once?' and I say noooo
because I don't want to disapoint my mooooooom...."

I Take Pictures Of Bathrooms, Part II

2009-03-18T21:43:00.000-07:00

I am intoxicated after a long night/morning of Vegas. Here is the hotel bathroom. ...don't judge me. I am not a drinker.

The lady in the middle is innocent. She just happened to sit in between Crazy One and Crazy Two while on the bus. Crazy One looks thrilled that Innocent is there. Crazy Two keeps fishing things out of her bag and saying things like. "Welcome to Las Vegas, plant a tree, duh! Over and out!" and "It was hash I tell you". The people-watching was the best part of Vegas.

We are on the top of a doubledecker bus called The Deuce. Here's the picture, I proved it. I take dumb pictures of stupid shit when I'm drinking, apparently.

The buffet had a Dessert area. I have been on a strict calorie diet since January. I took one bite of each dessert. The creme brulee was the best. I might have had five bites of the creme brulee, come to think of it.

The Other Bar. The Second Night. Those bottles were gone.

I Went To Vegas And All You Got Were Photos, Part I

2009-03-18T21:24:00.000-07:00

We walked a lot in Vegas. A lot. Here are my feet, at some mall in some hotel.

This is the bathroom in the Bellagio Hotel.

The view from the Stratosphere Tower. I went on the rides on the top and didn't poop my pants.

This was an ugly bathroom. I didn't even get all of the ugliness. I was worried about taking pictures in the bathroom. I didn't want to be the strange woman photographing the toilet fixtures.

The Bar for Husband. Ghetto Fabulous.

Just As Things Were Calming Down...

2009-03-02T10:30:00.000-08:00

This last year has been difficult, to say the least.

It has been a year since we moved in to our place. One dent in the wall, one broken window-blind, and some spray paint on the garage floor, all done within the last month. Pretty good for us, actually. I expected holes in the walls long before now.

Messy turns a year old at the end of the month. He has grown from a teeny-tiny (six lbs!) baby into a 25lb walking talking destroying almost-toddler. Learning to be parents together was difficult for Husband and I. We have been together for three years and are just now "figuring things out". We still yell and argue, but we know that it won't be absolutely detrimental to our relationship to slam some doors and talk some trash. We have grown closer as we coparent our son together.

J1 has a cell phone. I know it doesn't seem like a big deal or something to write about, but I was very very against it at first...until I really needed to get ahold of her one day and I couldn't. So I let her call up her dad and turn on the charm...and voila! Cell phone that mom doesn't have to pay for. Even better!

J2 has been on meds for ADD. I have waaaaaaaaaaay mixed feeling about giving my child prescription drugs for something like this. I was very very against it. (Wow, I seem to be against a lot of things, huh?) She was not doing well in school, and trying to have a conversation with her and answer the same question over and over again was affecting our everyday lives, my marriage, her social life...so I filled the prescription. I started her on Ritalin. I watched and waited and had the teacher fill out assessments each week on different doses. Guess what happened? She did better in school. She could concentrate. She could focus and sit in her chair and not blurt out things in class. She still says embarassing things while at the grocery store, but it' s not at the top of her lungs anymore. I don't give her the meds on weekends, because, well, I HATE giving my child drugs, hate it hate it hate it. She doesn't have to sit still on a weekend, so I let her be herself, and wonder if she can tell the difference inside when she's not on Ritalin.

Stepson arrived on a train last night to live with us (again). It has been almost a year since he left us from living with us the first time. He is almost 18, and got into some felony trouble back home. He has no motivation and no direction and no high school diploma, but he is a good kid. He just had a shitty mother and stepdad.

Me? I'm the same. I will continue to be the same when I turn thirty years old on the 17th of this month. A little thinner, a lot more exhausted, and some investments in really good skin cream will ensure that my 30th birthday will be nothing special. I don't want to end my twenties, I don't. I am spending my birthday in Vegas with no children. Do you know what I am going to do when I get off the plane in Vegas? I am going to arrive at the hotel and I am going to take a nap. Yes, a nap. And you know what? It's going to be a damn good nap.

Dear Breakfast

2009-02-04T22:37:00.000-08:00

Dear Breakfast,

I'm glad you dropped in for a bite to eat. I was bored and lonely, having just woken up from a nice long nap. I attended to my wardrobe and decided to enjoy your company for a bit. It was sometime in my slither toward you in which I realized my true feelings for you. You're pink and white with beady eyes. You have a tail. You are soft and warm and I love you. I'm hoping you feel the same way about what happened as I do. How about you stay over for a few days? Then one night, I'll prepare dinner...

Love,

Copper The Snake

You Don't Bring Me Flowers

2009-01-25T21:12:00.000-08:00

I don't write anymore. I don't have any time to write.

I have a 12yo girl who thinks she's waaaaaay older than she actually is. I am hurt at the snotiness sometimes. I almost told her to stop being a bitch one day, can you believe that? I don't talk to my children that way ever, but I came so close. Did I treat my mom this way? Because if so, Mom, I am SORRY. A big truckful of sorry. The time you made me vacuum (sidenote: how does one spell vacuum? Vacume?) the same piece of carpet over and over until it was clean? I understand. I do! When you threw a basket of rocks at me? Okay, that one was fucked up. But holy mackeral is this teenager shit getting old.

My 7yo daughter is a middle child and now you can tell. We are getting her evaluated for ADD and are trying medications. THAT is another tale completely.

The 9mo little boy is the light of my freakin life, I tell you what. I cry at least once a week because he is growing up. I don't know if it's because my tubes are tied and I'll never bear another child, but I want to STOP TIME and just put the past 9 months on rewind/play so I can savor it. Every day I want to just slow down. He's walking now. He's climbing. He gets into everything. He has a personality and gets pissed off when he can't have something he wants, showing his displeasure by screeching at you.

I have a husband who I love, I do. But oh my freakin god can he piss. me. off. Like I've never known pissed off to be. He's the only man who's ever curled my toes and made my heart do that flippy-floppy thing though....and he cooks dinner. So I keep him for now.

I am annoyed to no end at work. I love my job and wouldn't trade it for another, but I work in a building full of bitchy backstabbing women who like to gossip and it irritates the living shit out of me. I put on my ipod and try to drown the world around welfare out, but it doesn't last long.

So I'm sorry Internet, for not being around more. I'm a crappy friend, I know. I don't call, I don't write. I read your diary when you're out. I'm sorry.

Make Up Your Mind

2008-12-27T18:44:00.000-08:00

There's a coworker of mine who bugs the everlovin' shit outta' me. She drives me batty. Her laugh even annoys me. You know how sometimes there are just people who rub you the wrong way? She's that person. I've talked about her before, she's the one who doesn't "do" birthdays.

She won't sign the birthday card or chip in for a gift, but she'll attend the birthday lunch.
She apparently also doesn't do potlucks! Guess what? She won't bring a dish, but she'll sure as hell eat at the potluck!

Maybe she can't afford to bring a dish, you say? I can't afford to bring a dish, but I say so. I am not ashamed to say, "Sorry, not this time, no money." And if I don't contribute then I don't eat it, it's that simple.

Economy Woes

2008-12-21T11:21:00.000-08:00

The welfare office is biiiiiiizzzzzzzzzeeeeeeee. Nothin' like a recession for job security, right?

Share My Joy

2008-12-20T19:44:00.000-08:00

Goth Friday

2008-11-28T22:27:00.000-08:00

We went to Walmart today to buy some Tylenol for Messy(J3). He has the unfortunate luck of teething and his first runny nose/cough. I swear, if it's not one orifice it's another.

J2 gets out of the car and adjusts her black jacket against her pants (also black). "Don't look at me and make me laugh in the store, Mom. Don't even make me smile. I want people to think I'm goth."

I'm getting Messy out of his carseat and trying to adjust the shopping-cart cover at the same time. She's completely serious, and I try not to snort with laughter. Is 'goth' even still a term used? I feel old.

J1 is behind me with the diaper bag. I turn to her and question with my eyebrows and my best is your sister on something, you can tell me look.

"Mom, I asked her today why she wanted to be goth, and you know what she told me?"

My oldest child look at me, not waiting for me to answer. "She told me, 'It's my passion'. Yeah, her passion."

Our eyes roll at almost the same time, and with Messy secure in the cart, we walk with Goth Girl into the store, making sure that we make her smile.

My Son, The Sissy La La

2008-11-25T20:43:00.000-08:00

My son is eight months old. Maybe it's because he's sheltered, spending his days with his daddy (who is a great daddy). Or is it interacting with his older sisters, who, while way cool and funny these tweens are to him, are just sisters. Not like Real People.

Real People freak my son out. I know that this is the time where fear of strangers and seperation anxiety come in blah blahbety blah. But he gets really shy and wide-eyed. That's not all, I know that isn't even much!

My son is afraid of a book. He is afraid of Millie the Cow. On the first pages you meet Millie's Friends, and then you meet Millie, and she "moos" in greeting and Sissy La La FREAKS and doesn't cry, just gets really tense and doe-eyed and SAD and ohmygod I broke my baby's heart.

J2 and I tried to convince him that Millie was an OK Cow, but he wouldn't have it, even after our various cow noises (to get him used to wierd mechanical cow moos ).

Goodbye Millie the Cow.

Liar Liar Pants On Fire

2008-11-17T17:59:00.000-08:00

Dear Internet,

I am living one big fat lie. Sure, I pretend to be happy and satisfied with my life, but the opposite is true. I am miserable.

Husband is a jerk. He's an addict (tobacco, weed, alcohol) and does not know how to communicate effectively. At all. He's critical and thinks he knows it all. He doesn't trust me (for no reason whatsoever because I have never violated that trust). He throws a fit when I want to go have Girl's Night. We argue CONSTANTLY ABOUT STUPID SHIT. I have tried holding my own. I have tried giving in and being a doormat. I don't know what in the FUCK to do.

Money is tight, and he refuses to look for a job. Yeah, the bills are all paid, but extras? Not likely. Don't get me wrong, there's enough, but not enough. Does that make sense?

I hate his guts. I definently do. I don't regret my son, never ever, but I certainly regret who I picked for his father. I regret not ending this sooner. I regret being selfish and entering into a relationship straight out of another horrible relationship. Fuck my life!

I love where I live, I love my kids, my job, my car. The only thing I have a problem with is HIM. But I am seeing that it might be more than I can handle to get rid of him. He's just such an asshole, it seems easier to stay.

How sad is that. That was a statement, and not a question.

Those Canadian Boys, Eh?

2008-11-10T22:53:00.000-08:00

J2 was talking about a boy in her class and how he had nice penmanship. Oldest J interupts her to ask, "Is he cute?"

J2 looks apalled. "What?!" she replies. "He's from Canada!"

It Never Mattered So Much

2008-11-04T20:19:00.000-08:00

I have never cried over a presidential election.

Sure, I've bitched and whined and complained.

But I have never felt such relief before over an election. I'm crying now.

My daughters want to know why I'm crying because the man I voted for won. Okay, now I'm giggling. Must look pretty silly to an 11 and 7 year old. I tell them they are witnessing history...I hope they remember...

What's Not To Love?

2008-11-03T21:05:00.000-08:00

J2 informed me today that she can burp the alphabet. Her latest accomplishment?

She can finally make fart noises with her armpit. (Apparently this is something she's aspired to?)

I'm so...proud.

I Fucking Forgot Haiku Sunday Again

2008-10-20T22:25:00.000-07:00

Knife stabs my pickles

Forks in the dishwasher

Too lazy to wash

I Am The Bad Influence

2008-10-20T21:23:00.000-07:00

One day, the floor is clean, shiny mopped and empty of everything but the bathmat. Same with the next day. And the next. But then the day after that? That day is different. That's when Brokemom meanders throughout the day doing whatever it is she does, and then...leaves an article of her own clothing....on THE FLOOR! It obscures the bathmat. You can't see the shiny mopped floor! Brokemom promises herself that she will pick it up later. "It's only a shirt/panties/pants/skirt/whatever in the hell else ends up there" she thinks.

Something strange happens over the next two days. The clothing article on the floor where you used to see the bathmat seemes to be...multiptying. Breeding. Making little dirty-laundry babies. Soon there's a pair of panties and two dirty children's socks. A belt. A towel. These things are not Brokemom's, she only dropped one item for later. These forgotten items belong to someone else. Two someone else's!

Brokemom has to put down the law. "No more dirty shirt/panties/pants/skirt/whatever in the hell else ends up there" she says to the two. Brokemom will take away privileges if she has to!

Over the last day, the floor emerges triumphant. Shiny mopped and empty of everything but the bathmat, the floor will, for the next few days, be a new chance to live like a dirty slob.

Baby Brothers CAN Be Fun

2008-10-15T20:55:00.000-07:00

J1: "Look, I can put you in this box and pretend like you're a puppy!"

It Irritates Me When People's Blogs Are Full Of Pictures Of Their Kids

2008-10-13T21:37:00.000-07:00

Big Brother Has My Number

2008-10-12T20:45:00.001-07:00

J2 wanted to know if she could visit The White House. I told her no, and I would google it for her so she could see how far away it is. Lo and behold, up came a map with an address and a phone number. I told J2 that she cannot visit the house that is white, but she could call it!
So we called The White House. And when somebody actually answered, we were both to freaked to say anything. I thought we'd get a recording, not an actual person.

Haiku Sunday Again

2008-10-12T19:53:00.000-07:00

Napping lazy day
Woke up groggy and confused
the words will not come

Cute Babies? Ugly Babies?

2008-10-08T22:20:00.000-07:00

All babies are not cute. You know I'm right, so hush up. We all think that "my baby is the cutest baby." Well, not mine, but yours. Ours. You know what I mean!

While perusing blogs I come across many many MANY photos of people's children in random poses/costumes. These photos are captioned with "Isn't he adorable?" or "What a Cutie!" or "Next Top Model". Okay, I haven't seen that last one, but I betcha it's out there.

My problem is this: we all think our kids are the most adorable freakin things ever. Some of these kids though, are not the most adorable thing ever.

And I wonder....I think my son is pretty damn good looking. But maybe I'm reaching.

Next Top Model

Haiku Wednesday. Because We Forgot On Sunday.

2008-10-08T21:21:00.000-07:00

Low-carb diets rock
Stay away from bread, sugar
Or you will regret

Secondhand Smoke

2008-10-08T18:08:00.000-07:00

When people smoke in their cars, why do they roll the windows down? I mean, you're already inhaling the smoke, why do you have to share it with the rest of us sitting in traffic?

Serenity Now

2008-10-04T22:13:00.000-07:00

Eight Things I Don't Like

2008-10-04T20:11:00.000-07:00

1. Hummis
I think hummis tastes yucky. I had a friend whose mother made it for a dinner party when we were twelve. Bleh! Or was that curry? No matter, I don't like curry either.

2. Hermit Crabs
These things freak me out. Seriously freaky icky creepy-crawly goosebump type of freaky. I hate the way the legs/claws poke out of the shell when you pick them up, I hate the way they crawl along the bottom of their home. I know they are harmless. I am not a squeamish woman. I like snakes and spiders, mice and fuzzy kittens. Oh wait, who doesn't like fuzzy kittens?

3. Hands-free Cell Phone Devices
I bought a Bluetooth compatable device when the new cellphone law went into effect. I got the salesman to turn it on and mess with my phone and make it "go". I haven't used it at all, but only because I couldn't get the damn thing to stay on my ear. Were my ears mutated? They must be, I've been trying to get it to stay on my ear since July! J1, in all her infinite tween wisdom, showed me how to wear the damn thing in the car the other day. I was doing it all wrong. And it took an eleven year old to show me.

4. HandJobs
No, wait. I don't mind those. I was just on an "H" kick.

5. Fast Food Restaurants That Charge You For Condiments
I get endless joy from making the drive-thru workers at Wendy's run my card again for the measly THIRTY-TWO CENTS they charge me for a sweet and sour sauce. The ELEVEN CENTS at the McDonalds. The world will be a sad, sad place when Taco Bell starts charging for mild sauce. It's coming...

6. Commercials That Get Louder
I'm watching a show at perfect volume. Then a commercial blasts onto screen and I have to scramble for the remote to lower the volume, which means when the show comes back on, the volume is all fucked up. Doesn't my television have a setting for this?

7. When My Children Play the Wii
I don't actually mind that they play it, I just dislike the "ohmygod she told us to wear the wriststrap again" look that they give me. If the damn remote flies into the tv, I will be pissed. It will only take one time.

8. Hazelnut Coffee Creamer
Hey, another "H" item. Coffee creamer that tastes lik nuts is yucky. Nutty. You know what I mean, don't pretend as though you don't.

A Moment Alone

2008-10-04T07:33:00.000-07:00

In A Magic House, Where Willow Makes The Walls

2008-10-04T07:10:00.000-07:00

Somebody Get This Girl Some Ritalin

2008-10-01T08:15:00.000-07:00

I, uh, don't really know why anyone is, uh, wanting to actually, uh, vote for this lady because oh hey what what what the hell was I talking about?

8x365 Chris

2008-09-29T22:04:00.000-07:00

This is a memory that resurfaced after a loooong time, seemingly out of nowhere. Do you ever have moments like that? Where it's like, "Holy crap, how could I have forgotten that?!"

Chris was a man I was contemplating sleeping with when I was...um...23? 24? I dunno'. He was pretty good-looking, but not the sharpest crayon the the box, ya' know? Anyhow, I remember sitting on my living room couch with Chris. We were watching tv, and all of a sudden he leaned over and blew in my ear. Not a forceful blast of air, almost imperceptible,but I felt it. And I asked him, "What in the hell was that?" Chris told me that he had heard women were turned on by a man blowing in their ear.

Needless to say, I did not sleep with him.

It's Haiku Sunday, Imagine That

2008-09-28T20:56:00.000-07:00

The baby ate peas
and then he learned to zerbert
Mom ran for cover

You're Not Human

2008-09-24T19:22:00.000-07:00

At work we were passing around a birthday card for a coworker. I walked it over to the desk of L for her to sign.

She holds up her hands as if she were warding me off and says, "Oh, I don't do birthdays."

What the fuck? You don't DO birthdays? How in the fuck do you not do birthdays? I am all agoggle over this, and it has been bugging me all day.

Everybody has a birthday. There is no possible way that one can not "do" birthdays.

Hope Springs Eternal or Something Like That

2008-09-21T12:23:00.000-07:00

I have a secret.

I have a dream.

I've had a dream for awhile, not really a dream until now. More of a...moment in passing, a fleeting "what if?" moment. I finally reflected on how this passing thought makes me feel inside. Each time unrecognized, but finally it sprang into clarity a few moments ago...

I would like to write a book someday. I've thought about it. In college years ago, most of my free units were English or Lit classes. I read all the time. Books are my friends, an escape, it's always been that way. But to actually write one? Yeah, right. What would I write? I can read, fersher, but could I actually write a book? Do I actually want someone to read it? I know, I know, that's what books are for, but you know what I mean, right? The main concern being what in the freakin hell would I write about?! My thought of writing a book always ended there.

I did it. I know what I'm going to write about. I have a plan. An outline of sorts. There's a place inside of me, where my heart would be, I'm imagining. And in this place, as I'm thinking about this step that I took...the step where a fleeting thought becomes A Plan. My heart gets a fluttery and I want to smile. Just a tiny smile, but a good smile. No timeline, I might be fifty years old when I'm ready to share my creation with anyone.

I'm ready to dream again. I haven't wanted to in such a very long time. I wondered where I had gone, the real me. I'm still here, Me!

Seriously, The Bathroom Thing Again?

2008-09-21T09:27:00.000-07:00

When I am standing at the sink in the ladies room washing my hands, I see you exit your stall. I see you rinse your hands in the water and then leave. I see you NOT use soap.

So when you offer me a baked treat that you made at home and I don't take one? That is why.

Ten Things 'Bout Whatever

2008-09-21T09:04:00.000-07:00

1. The other morning at work I bitched about how fat I am getting. Then I ate four doughnuts. WTF?

2. I tell Husband we don't have any money, but then I buy myself a breakfast sammich on the way to work.

3. I don't participate in organized religion, but I would like my children to have godparents. Only I wouldn't want them to be called that. I just think it's a great way to honor a true friend.

4. I got my tubes tied a few weeks ago. I did something called Essure, and in three more weeks, I can have all the unprotected sex I want. Husband doesn't know what he's in for. Woohoo!

5. J3 is six months old. When he wants his bottle, he says "Ma ma ma ma ma". He is saying "milk", but I sometimes pretend he is saying "mama".

6. J3 is teething and he has caught the sniffles from his sister. He doesn't sleep, which means I don't sleep. I am super fun to be around right now.

7. J1 is a snotty snotty almost-twelve-year-old, but sometimes she is great fun to be around. When she lets her snotness go, she's pretty darn witty and we have a good time together.

8. I almost ate cookie dough for breakfast. Almost. Instead I had toast and coffee.

9. J3 is napping right now, and what the hell am I doing? Blogging. Not sleeping. Blogging.

10. I forgot to take my antidepressant last weekend, and the sides of my head started to...umm, what's the word...tic. Twitch. Right above my ears. I could put my finger on my scalp and feel the vein twitching. It was annoying and annoying. I didn't realize that it was the lack of meds until I started taking them again and it stopped.

11. I know I said ten things, but what the hey. Husband took my "let's conserve electricity" talk to heart and now he unplugs the cofee pot and toaster from the wall when he's done. I only realized this because I waited ten minutes for my toast to pop up this morning before figuring it out.

Wipe Yer Ass

2008-09-21T08:45:00.000-07:00

I went to the bathroom at work the other day. I go to the bathroom a lot, actually. See, I decided to take up a bad habit, and I chose coffee. I don't like the smell of cigarettes, I cannot afford shoes right now, and being a tweaker doesn't have any appeal. Coffee was a good choice, yes? The caffeine to keep me a little more alert, the warm deliciousness on a cold morning, what could be the downfall? (I'm ignoring the voice that is yelling "caffeine headache! diarrhea!")
The downfall actually being that coffe makes me pee like crazy. I travel down the hallway at work every hour to pee.
The other morning I walked into the unisex bathroom to find....poop on the seat. Seriously, poop on the toilet seat? Who DOES that?!! Who takes a crap, does a shitty wiping job (like that pun?), turns around to flush, and doesn't wipe off the freakin toilet?! Not to mention what's on your ass!
Would you do that at home? Leave your poop on the seat? Nasty nasty. I did NOT use that bathroom. I have not used that bathroom since. I want to hang a sign that reads, "WIPE YER ASS". I wonder how that would go over...

From The Mouth Of J2

2008-09-08T22:01:00.000-07:00

Husband: I'm going to the store, do you want anything?

Me: Ummmm....nope. I'm good.

J2: Where are you going?

Husband: To Guam.

J2: Oh. I don't want anything then.

So Sad

2008-09-08T19:52:00.000-07:00

J2 looks sad. She stands in front of me and says, "Mommy, I'm sad. [J1] is going to tell her friends that I don't like cake. And I do like cake!! I don't want her to tell her friends that."

I tell her, "You know you like cake, right? So I wouldn't really worry about what your sister's friends think of your cake preference."

Then she nodded very solemnly at my sage advice.

Twelve Is Looming

2008-09-01T22:22:00.000-07:00

J1 gets bigger and snottier and more like a teenager every day. I miss my sweet innocent baby girl...who is this tween full of attitude? Oh wait, this is the payback my mother said would happen one day. Okay, I get it now.

Blue Eyeshadow

2008-09-01T21:28:00.000-07:00

I used to be a very put-together women. I used to match and accessorize very very well. No longer am I that women, due to two big factors. The first, I have gained too much weight to wear my clothes, and my feet either grew with this last pregnancy, or I'm just too fat for my shoes. Which is sad, because when I lose the weight and cannot fit into my shoes, I will have to buy all new shoes. The second factor? I'm just to damn busy. I work 40 hours a week, I have three kids, a husband, and a house to take care of. I don't have to do dinners, but laundry has my name on it. So does homework, reading logs, Back To School Nights, doctors appointments, making formula for the baby, and making sure the older two don't whine and tattle each other to death. I wake up a 5:45am and I don't stop until about 9:30pm. And even then, J3 wake up once for milk at about 1:00am.

My routine is much simpler these days. On a good day, I get a shower. My husband asks me why I take so freakin long in there, it's because I am cramming two days worth of not showering into one morning. After I get out of the shower I put expensive potions on my face. (My one of two "me" things I still have. The other is my hair appointments.) I put on my clinical strength deoderant, because for some reason regular deoderant doesn't work so well for me anymore. If the baby is still happy, I will apply some eyeliner, pale tan sparkly eyeshadow, and then a green sparkly shadow along my lids. I like green. I look good in green.

That's it. I get dressed, deal with the baby, and leave for work. Do I brush my hair? Mmm...sometimes. More often than not, nope. I don't mess with a lot of the stuff I used to...hairbrushes included. Anyhow, back to the topic at hand. The eyeshadow.

My friend Laura was over a few weeks ago. She has a daughter a little younger than J2, and her son was born just two weeks of J3's birth. Her husband and mine can get together and watch UFC fighting on tv, so it all works out well. One night, we were having Girl Night. The meant that Laura did weird stuff to my face while I panicked and asked her things like, "What's that gooey stuff? Does that hurt? Does that burn? Why are you putting that on my face?! Ow, my eye!" Laura asked me, "Do you wear green eyeshadow every day?"

....."Um....yeah? Why, does it look bad?"

Laura replied that it didn't look bad, but maybe sometimes I could do something different with my eyeshadow.

"Why?" I asked. "If it works for me, then why stop?"

She then said, "Do you remember the eighties? Have you seen the women at WalMart who wear blue eyeshadow? They once said to their friend 'If it works for me, why stop?'."

So I dug out some other eyeshadow the next morning. Every day that I actually care enough/have time I apply something not green.

But only sometimes. Because green really does work for me. At least for a few more years...

Kick-Ass Hangy-Thingy

2008-09-01T21:17:00.000-07:00

At two months, J3 loved his kick-ass hangy-thingy. I know it's called a mobile, but to him, his kick-ass hangy-thingy was "his friends". We would ask him, "Do you want to go hang out with your friends?" He was infatuated by it. The black and white images kept him entertained for hours. Okay, not hours, but precious minutes fersher. You could almost see his mind working out how in the heck to move his hands so he could grab at those things!

At five months old, J3 finally figured out that he was now Big Enough...and oh! The delight in him finally getting to rip down his friends was a joy to behold. He has discovered that his friends actually taste pretty good too, so no problems there.

Another Year of Childhood, Gone

2008-08-18T20:53:00.001-07:00

J1 started middle school this year.

J2 started second grade.

I cry on the first day of school as their bus pulls away...every year. This year it was twice because they now go to different schools. In a few years, it will be three times in one morning!

I'll just have to call in sick on that day.

My Eleven Year Old With Cholesterol Problems

2008-08-12T19:52:00.000-07:00

J1 is almost twelve years old. She eats Cheerios for breakfast every morning. While watching a commercial on tv this afternoon, she looks at me and says, "Mine must almost be gone!"

I'm like "Huh?" I don't even remember what the commercial was about.

J1 says, "That guy's cholesteree was down. I eat Cheerios every morning, and the box says my cholesteree is lowered every time I eat it. So, mine must almost be gone!"

I said, "CholesterOL?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's what I said. Cholesteree."

Things My Husband Said

2008-08-11T17:47:00.000-07:00

Me: "Do you ever regret marrying a woman who can't cook?"

Husband: (after pondering a moment...) "No. It wouldn't be up to my standards anyway."

Spite You

2008-07-31T18:43:00.000-07:00

How fucking mean is the person who stole my pen??!!

Very very mean.

It was a good pen, a great pen! Someone took it out of spite, I know it.

Do you ever wonder who doesn't like you at work but is nice to your face?
I do.
And I know they took my fucking pen. And it pisses me off.

Rubber Ducky, You're The One

2008-07-31T18:25:00.000-07:00

J1and J2 are home from a month at their dad's in Oregon, the longest I've ever let them go, HOORAY!
J1 seems to have developed the habit of waking up early. Every morning for the past four, she wakes up and comes and hangs out with me. Keep in mind that it's usually 5:30 or 6:00am. This morning I ask her, "Why in the heck are you up so early?"

She replied, "Uh, Mom, you're really loud when you get up."

Wha? I get up and go to the kitchen and warm up a bottle for J3. The microwave opens/closes, beeps three times and then opens/shuts again. Husband can sleep through it. J2 sleeps though it and her room is the closest to the kitchen. How is it that the preteen with the bedroom furthest away and door shut can hear it?
No matter, I will take advantage of the situation. J1 sat in my room and played with J3while I... (get ready....are you ready??)......

....took.....

A SHOWER. In the morning! I brushed my teeth! I shaved my legs! Both of them! I am getting so excited!
If she keeps getting up early, I might be able to take one EVERY MORNING without a baby in the bathroom with me.
Holy crap. It's almost too much to contemplate.

Smokers Suck

2008-07-17T18:00:00.000-07:00

The lady across from me, B, doesn't wash her hands anymore when she's done smoking. All day long I had to smell her stale smoke. It gave me a headache and made me sneeze.

Her mother died recently and B was out on leave all last week to go scatter ashes and whatnot. I feel like it would be rude to again ask her to wash her godamn hands. The woman is mourning and all. Maybe a small subtle can of air neutralizer might do the trick?

Phone Call Numero Uno

2008-07-17T17:47:00.000-07:00

A client called me today crying. She could not get affordable Welfare Healthcare, due to an abundance of income. (Which, by the way, the government says is anything over $600 dollars a month for one person.)
She sniffled to me that she couldn't afford to go to the doctor!! She didn't make that much money!! She needed the other kind of Welfare Healthcare, the kind that only pregnant women get!! Or the kind that people with children get!!

Her reason for needing to do away with her $250.00 monthly share-of-cost?

She needed to see a fertility doctor because she couldn't get pregnant. She couldn't get pregnant because of the expensive Welfcare.

I wanted to explain that babies cost a zillion trillion dollars more than that each month, but I held my tongue. But I gave a good long sigh when I hung up the phone.

Answer The Phone

2008-07-13T21:00:00.000-07:00

I sit in a "unit", which is a medium-sized room with desks and chairs, computers and a printer, and eight other Welfare Workers. Our areas are personalized; pictures, plants and whatnot littering the desks. Each desk has a phone and the unit has a Community Line, which is a phone line that is mandatory that somebody answer it. The phones ring quite a bit. I'd say that the ringing phones are a big part of the overall Unit-ness. So much, in fact, that I titled this post as such.

Each Unit has a Supervisor. Some Supervisors are great, some are shit. Thank goodness I've never had a shit Supervisor. It can make the job way more stressful. Anyhow,

N~ my Supervisor. She's fair and knows her stuff. She likes her job, enjoys helping people, is an overall good person with one fault. She refuses to take initiative with the members of her Unit when there's a problem. She tends to not be very assertive if there's a skirmish amongst the others. I love that word, skirmish.

SM~ fellow Unit Member. He's a funny guy, older man, married. He loves to answer the Community Line. The is because answering the CL allows him not do anything else. Like, working. And he smells.

L~ is an okay worker. She has a chip on her shoulder about something. But I'm not interested enough to get to know her any better. She was a bitch one day about the ones that are "supposed" to answer the CL, and pissed me off. Whatever. She fades into the background. Nothing great is on her desk.

Y~ is misunderstood. She doesn't seem to have any friends, and everyone in the building is superficially nice to her. Her marriage is a sham, her best friend is her dog. She makes snide comments. For some reason, I really like her. I think she's funny, and I think she feels sad. There's something about her that people just don't like, but it doesn't seem to bother me. She knows her stuff, works hard, but her people skills leave something to be desired.

T~ is whiny. She whines about her life in a trying to be nonchalant attitude way, and I can see through it. She's nice and always willing to help when somebody needs it, but she's a complainer and a gossip. If someone is willing to gossip to me about others, I wonder what she says behind my back.

A~ is a larger woman, sweet and knows her resources. She's not afraid to get to the bottom of any bullshit a client is telling us. I have no problems with her. Scratch that- she keeps her radio a little louder than I like. Mine is on the same station, but softer. Why don't I turn mine off, you ask? Because I shouldn't have too, dammit. Moving on.

K~ is a quiet man, does okay work and keeps to himself. Frequently he says amusing things and we all have a good laugh.

U~ is a helper, a do-gooder. She has the weight of the world on her shoulders and she likes it, it fuels her.

B~ is a newbie. She's a smoker. She sits right across from me and when she comes in from her break she always smells like smoke. It bothers me. It bothers me so much that I asked her to start washing her hands when she comes in from her breaks. She apologized and agreed, but sometimes she forgets and it bugs the shit out of me. I really really hate the smell of smoke. I write suggestions to the Suggestion Box that read, "The law says smokers must stay 20 feet away from doorways. Let's reinforce this, shall we?" and other snide remarks. I sign my name.

Then there's me, Brokemom. I have a rubberband ball on my desk. I have pictures of my husband and children on my bulletin board. I am organized. I answer my damn phone.

The Stupidest Thing I Heard Today

2008-07-10T17:40:00.000-07:00

Scenario: I am speaking with the AT&T Customer Service Representative. Let me just add (before I continue) that these people are robots. They say the same things over and over and fucking over. I get frustated and annoyed and I want to cry and hang up the phone.

Me: Can you explain this part of my bill blah blah etc?

Robot: "The section amounts here are different than other people's amounts because different amounts are there."

WTF? No kidding.

The Lie

2008-07-09T20:14:00.000-07:00

I've been lied to. Such a simple, small thing...but with such huge ramifications.

They always look so happy, mooing and chewing cud and joking on about this and that. Green grass, sunny skies, all is well in good ol' cee ae ell aye eff oh are en aye ae. It's real! It's the real deal!

Such falsehoods!

I tried cheese from Wisconsin and it was BETTER. Creamier, tastier, it was the best cheese I've ever eaten in my whole life. No joke.

I feel betrayed.

Not Even Close To Yum

2008-07-06T15:43:00.000-07:00

I ate eel. It was not yummy in the slightest. It looked funny, too.

I am so not adventurous.

Yum?

2008-07-02T19:20:00.000-07:00

I ate moose meat. It probably would have tasted like beef, except for the fact that I knew it was moose. I only ate a little bit. I didn't really care for it...again, because it's moose. Not that there's anything wrong with moose, mind you. I almost wish I hadn't been told what it was before I ate it, so I could have eaten moose with an open, clear perspective.

Things I Like About Where I Live

2008-06-08T18:01:00.000-07:00

It smells good when I walk in. And it's cooler, and airy, so I always breath in one breath deeper when I walk in. I get a very satisfied feeling while doing so. As a result, I keep the place clean. Not just cleaner than before or cleaner than usual because people! People! I have never really been a great housekeeper. I'm very cluttered. I have my own organizational method. So the house is clean and smells good.

The kitchen is larger than any kitchen I've ever had. I hadn't realized up until now how small the previous kitchens actually were. This kitchen makes me want to try new things. That's a good kitchen.

The bedroom is cold and has a fan that makes a noise that drowns out the world when I'm trying to sleep. The bed is huge and when I take a nap it's all mine. I can stretch out and snore and forget about the baby for just a little while. Husband will entertaining J3 and I am out.

J1 and J2 each have their own rooms which are kept clean. (The bathrooms are clean too. I can't get over the Clean Feeling.) They are happier with their own space, and as a result they bicker and argue all the freakin time because that's what siblings do! But at least I can send them away from each other sometimes.

I can take a walk outside with the stroller and J3. J2 tags along and we talk about which neighborood cat will let you you pet it, and why don't clouds talk, and if we should taste the cherries from the tree along the road. (We do. They were sweet! And you could just spit out the pits in the street!)

The backyard has grass and roses and trees. Okay, two trees. It's not 13 acres worth of trees, but at least there are trees. The backyard roses also include my favorite kind, not sure what they're called, but they're purple and smell fabulous.

Finally, I have a porch where I can stick my turtle collection. They're keeping the house safe. Keep on truckin', Turtles.

7x365 Leonard

2008-05-30T18:10:00.000-07:00

Leonard was an elderly man who lives across the street with his wife. He had the nicest lawn on the block.
I was an industrious child, and I liked to be creative in the kitchen. This usually involved a recipe from a cookbook that I would tweak to "make it better". This resulted in foodstuff that the dog wouldn't even eat.
I had a plastic wagon that I would cart around the neighborhood filled with my Flourless Cookies and my Beer Muffins. I would go door-to-door selling my treats for .50 cents a pop.
Leonard always bought one. I hope he never ever actually ate them, but what a good sport!

6x365 Mr. Robathan

2008-05-29T18:02:00.000-07:00

Mr. R was my math teacher in my sophmore year of high school. I wasn't a great student, but I was cute and charming. My friend Kristi and I would sit in the back of the class and make fun of the day's lessons, write notes back and forth, and decorate our binders with stickers.
We could tell that we exasperated the crap out of him, but we kept his class interesting, and he never really did get angry.

5x365 Mrs. Hyatt

2008-05-28T17:54:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Hyatt was a the Speech Therapist at my elemetary school. I had a lisp, and in third grade I was told to go every Tuesday to a small trailer at the back of the school. In this trailer I would sit with Mrs. Hyatt and practice my 's' and 'z' sounds until I could thay, I mean say them properly. I got star stickers on each level of sounds that I made.
I still lisp sometimes, but only when I'm excited or angry.

4x365 Mrs. SF

2008-05-27T17:45:00.000-07:00

Mrs. SF lived a few houses down from us. She had a daughter named Amy who was in college. When Mrs. SF would go out of town, she would ask me to care for her dog, Sassy. Sassy was a Dalmatian, and had a tail that, when whipped across my legs, hurt like a bitch.
Caring for Sassy including walking her, putting out food and water, and picking up her poop in the backyard. For this I was paid $5 a day. Pretty good wage for a 12 year old.
One day while caring for Sassy, I was bored. I starting snooping around in their house. It felt wicked then, but looking back on it now it wasn't very bad...wrong, yes. I watched 'Pretty Woman' on the VCR and then it wouldn't eject! I picked through Amy's clothes and found a bikini top that I actually borrowed for a few days and then returned. I didn't actually have the boobs for said top, but I was hoping for some encouragement from the top.
I think that Mrs. SF figured out what had happened, because she never asked me to care for Sassy again.

Things My Husband Said

2008-05-26T22:53:00.000-07:00

"This isn't pot. Your dad just smokes high-grade oregano."

3x365 Lisa Tripp

2008-05-26T22:45:00.000-07:00

I was in third grade, she was in second. Lisa lived across the street in an ugly house with a kick-ass cement pond in front, where we would collect frogs eggs and tadpoles. We would play Barbies together.
As a third grader, I was very proud of my Barbie collection. I had lots of them, clothes, jewelry, etc. One Barbie even came with her own little makeup case/purse, which had real eyeshadow in it!
One day while we were at her house playing Barbies, I had to go home for something, so I left my Barbies there with Lisa. I was going to pick them up the next day. Lo and behold, when I came to get my suitcase of Barbies, things were missing. Earrings, fancy dresses, a turquoise fur wrap...a turquoise fur wrap, people!
I asked her for my things, and she claimed she had no idea what I was talking about. She wouldn't budge from her story. I never got my Barbie items returned. And we were never really friends after that either. Huh.

2x365 Mrs. Gregory

2008-05-25T04:39:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Gregory was my third grade teacher. I don't remember much about her teaching style, other than learning to love to read. I still love to read, any book, any time, and I credit Mrs. Gregory for forging this bond with books.
She would read to us during class, after lunch. She would read books like A Light In The Attic by Shel Silverstein and The New Kid On the Block by Jack Prelutsky. I remember her reading aloud The BFG by Roald Dahl. When I see these books I think of her.
I wish I had taken the time years ago to find her (she's retired) and let her know how much she influenced my life. I'm afraid that she's dead, honestly. I remember her as old, and that was over 20 years ago.

1x365 Courtney Owens

2008-05-24T21:48:00.000-07:00

Courtney was in my fifth grade class. She had a blonde pageboy haircut and a snub nose. She was mean mean mean to me. She would insult me, taunt me, get the other girls and boys to get in on it and laugh at me together. I hadn't considered myself to be any less popular or any less pretty or any less smart than anyone else ever until she came along.

The fifth graders took a week-long trip to Environmental Camp every year. Before we left, we were asked to write down on a piece of paper the five people we would want to share a cabin with. I wrote down my friend's names and was so excited. The teachers put me in a cabin with Courtney and her chummy group, all who had a great week making me miserable.

I would cry after school when I got home. My mother would tell me that Courtney was jealous of me and that's why she was so utterly mean.
I didn't believe her then and I don't believe her now.

Sometimes I wish we would meet accidently. Would I have the nerve to ask her why she was so hateful to me? Would she remember? Would she even have a reason?

My House In The Middle Of My Street

2008-05-23T17:06:00.000-07:00

Don't you wish you had a washer and dryer like these? No, you don't! Because if you did, you'd have a backache from all of the bending it requires to load and unload the damn things. Water saver, pish!

What's that under the foil in my fridge? I'm certainly not going to peek and find out....

Don't you wish that while on maternity leave I had gone and organized the garage like I said I would? Fersher.

A Day In The Life of J3

2008-05-23T16:50:00.000-07:00

Mmmmm....milk. Milk milk milk, I love milk. (burp)

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Milk! mmmmm (burp)

Oh no naked aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Hey, milk! I love milk, milk milk. (burp)

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Hey! Hey! I'm awake now! Where's my milk?! Gimme my milk!! No Daddy, don't eat my toes, I want milk!

No, I don't wanna be naked again!! Dammit, where's my milk?!!!

Mmmm, milk! (burp)

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

2008-05-03T13:37:00.000-07:00

My son, my third-born, my last child, my "baby" for always, is the cutest freakin darn baby, I tell you what. Let's brag about him finally!
Ahem.
He has the softest baby hair, brown in color. His eyes are sooo dark, I have to call them "maybe brown" because they're definently not blue, but is it me just wanting him to have his daddy's eyes? Who knows! We'll wait and see.

When he is hungry, he cries this cry that sounds like, "Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh" like he's agreeing with you. This comes in handy when you ask him a question, any question! Example:
"J, do you want one of those 'baths' that you absolutely hate? You do? Great!"

or

"J, do you want to go to the Titty Bar? You do? Great!"

I have been peed on more now than ever before methinks. It's like a little sprinkler, just watering away! Oh look, pee I mean there it goes again oh dammit pee everywhere! And I hate it because then I have to change his clothes and he cries (which is the only time other than bath time when he does cry because we hold him all the time!) but I always laugh because how can you not laugh at that? I can't lie down and pee all over my neck, now can I?

It's strange to me the circumcision talks we've encountered, on a side note. We elected to not have J circumcised. (okay, I just agreed with what Husband said because I left that decision for him. I don't have have a penis, not my decision to make.) When the nurse at the hospital mentioned it, then the pediatrician, then the Appointment Giver Lady at the pediatrician's office, fine whatever not a problem. But they almost seemed like they were trying to push me into it. They kept talking about it even after I replied to their, "Are you having him circumcised?" with a polite "No, thankyou!" They kept on about the procedure and how much they were and under 10lbs blah blah blah. I already said no! Leave his penis alone fercryinoutloud!

Anyhow. He is just so so sweet. I just sit nursing him and stare into his eyes sometimes. He has a dimple in one of his cheeks, not the same side cheek as the dimple on his Daddy,however. And he has to squinch up his cheeks just right for me to see it...but it's there and I get excited every time I see it, because in my visions of Future Unborn he always had that dimple! His nose is kinda big, but I think his face will grow into it. He can put his thumb in his mouth and his middle finger up his nose at the same time!

He's too small for most of his clothes still, so I like to grab his empty footie jammies at the end and say, "My feet, where are my feet?" And I laugh and know that he is laughing too, but on the inside.

Loathing the Loafs

2008-05-03T13:09:00.000-07:00

You've seen it, I know you have. Don't deny it.

"Dad, I want a Go Phone!" says unattractive Loaf Jr.

"Lemme sleep on it!" sings older-than-old Mr. Loaf.

Mrs. Loaf comes in carrying...what is that, meat? Mrs. Loaf chucks a leg of lamb or whatever into the freezer singing about no surprise bills to pay.

Loaf Jr. wrinkles up his face in a way that utterly annoyes the shit out of me, and he and Papa Loaf sing about the joys of getting the Go Phone.

GO away, Loaf Family commercial, I cannot take much more!

Waiting Game

2008-03-10T19:46:00.000-07:00

I had forgotten about this...the waiting for a new person to enter your life.
Knowing that this little person will change everything, will disrupt routines and throw everything into uproar. Knowing that everything will change, my life, my daughter's lives will forever be touched by this moving entity in my womb, whom I cannot see or hear, but I instinctively know. I know he doesn't like me to "push him around", because when I try to poke a foot or baby butt, he moves away from my touch. A little personality all his own, and not even born yet...

This little miracle, as every child is, who forever ties two families into one.

A little boy who will hold my heart in the palm of his hand, my forever youngest child. So much change, but I am in limbo, waiting....knowing he will arrive soon, but when?
The last few weeks are the hardest.

Δεν το συμπαθώ

2008-01-06T21:54:00.000-08:00

I am not finding this pregnancy to be to my liking. That's a nice way of saying that I really don't love it. Heck, I'll be honest. I don't even really like it.

My other pregnancies were different, I really enjoyed them. So what if I was 17 with my first? And had a cheating drunken husband the other? Is that why it's different? I'm older? More out-of-shape? Testosterone floating in this unborn Boy Child, whereas my two Girl Children and I were blissfully floating the estrogen sea?

I dunno'. But, for lack of a better term, it sucks. Here, let me tell you all about it, since it seems I've been suffering some creative block lately.

First Trimester: I'm nauseous all the freakin' time and I never throw up. I nibble on crackers all day long, and as a result of this carb overload, I gain a singnificant portion of my total weight gain. My breasts are huge and painful in an omg gethtefuckawayfromthemori'llkillyou kinda' way. I cannot handle the least bit of sugar. I've never been a really big sugar eater, but I sure notice when I eat "too much", and that is just about everything. A soda. A piece of candy. I feel my glucose levels soaring and dipping with each meal or snack I eat. I am uber-emotional and I cry and I cry over everything. I am exhausted. I am not tired, but just plain worn out. Walking across a parking lot is more than I can handle some days, to do something that requires more, like grocery shopping? Nuh-uh. The bouts of "holy shit what am I doing having another baby at this point in my life" talks to myself are broken by sonograms of an...alien thing. Yes, it is a baby, but....not yet. I am pushy and demanding and I don't take any shit from anyone. I yell at strangers at the gas station who piss me off. I am brisk with coworkers and clients at work. Strangely enough, they chalk it up to pregnancy hormones. I go through two bottles of Tums.

Second Trimester: By god, first day into it I feel better. Day two into this trimester and I am still feeling good. My energy? It's back. I am able to walk around with friends and The J's and trick-or-treat on Halloween. Sugar levels are balancing and don't seem so noticable. At about day five I stop marvelling at how damn good I feel, I just go with it. I feel normal again. My breasts are still huge and sore, but tolerable most days. My ass has almost doubled. My feet swell and look like puffy bread rolls. Sonogram picture shows a penis, which is what we want, what we long for to complete our blended family. I don't have cravings, except for ice to crunch, which has been with every pregnancy. The cold crunchy ice satisfies me like nothing else. I drive my coworkers nuts with the crunching. I have to pee all the time, which the ice does not alleviate. I buy my Tums at Costco.

Third Trimester: This is now. I am feeling tired again, I want to come home and take naps. I am grumpy and emotional and I cry. I am constipated and my legs cramp and I get heartburn from absolutely nothing. I feel heavy and turning over in bed is a chore, as is getting up five times a night to pee and dealing with my cat who will get up on the roof and then forgets how to fucking get down. This baby is twisting and turning and kicking and wiggling and it annoys me sometimes...but when Husband puts his hand on my belly and talks to Boy Child, my annoyance melts away. Three more months of getting bigger and peeing more and then the thought, the reality of actually giving birth again...I am considering tubal ligation, because I never want to do this again. My family will be complete.

Welfare Mommy

Dear Old Lady Client Who I Thought Was Sweet

My Client Said To Me

I Think They're Listening

Things I Can't Say At Work

It's A Really Really Long Time

Wipe Your Feet

All By Myself

Don't Ask Me Why I'm Sitting In My Car In The Dark

Just To Think

The Next Part

Thought You Should Know

Somebody's Dead Meat

That Which Is Mine

The Crazy Man In The Corner

We're Having *What* For Dinner?!

The Best Part

I Can See Clearly Now, the Bullshit Is Gone

Done

Life Lessons From a 13 Year Old

The Saga Continues

What Comes After Happily Ever After?

My Husband Smells

More For Me

Whew!

A Quick Moment

A Very Important Part of Me

C'mere and I'll Tell You a Secret

The Cheese Stands Alone

Last Day of School

Sunday Quickie

Pass The Pepah'. The Cayenne Pepah'?

J2 Was Singing and I Wrote It Down

I Take Pictures Of Bathrooms, Part II

I Went To Vegas And All You Got Were Photos, Part I

Just As Things Were Calming Down...

Dear Breakfast

You Don't Bring Me Flowers

Make Up Your Mind

Economy Woes

Share My Joy

Goth Friday

My Son, The Sissy La La

Liar Liar Pants On Fire

Those Canadian Boys, Eh?

It Never Mattered So Much

What's Not To Love?

I Fucking Forgot Haiku Sunday Again

I Am The Bad Influence

Baby Brothers CAN Be Fun

It Irritates Me When People's Blogs Are Full Of Pictures Of Their Kids

Big Brother Has My Number

Haiku Sunday Again

Cute Babies? Ugly Babies?

Haiku Wednesday. Because We Forgot On Sunday.

Secondhand Smoke

Serenity Now

Eight Things I Don't Like

A Moment Alone

In A Magic House, Where Willow Makes The Walls

Somebody Get This Girl Some Ritalin

8x365 Chris

It's Haiku Sunday, Imagine That

You're Not Human

Hope Springs Eternal or Something Like That

Seriously, The Bathroom Thing Again?

Ten Things 'Bout Whatever

Wipe Yer Ass

From The Mouth Of J2

So Sad

Twelve Is Looming

Blue Eyeshadow

Kick-Ass Hangy-Thingy

Another Year of Childhood, Gone

My Eleven Year Old With Cholesterol Problems

Things My Husband Said

Spite You

Rubber Ducky, You're The One

Smokers Suck

Phone Call Numero Uno

We're Having What For Dinner?!