untitled

Reaching for the words to
Express what I do not want to feel.
Grin and bear it,
Reversal is not an option.
Enjoy the misery of my heart
Tearing into pieces.

From My Notebook At Work

Girl Rant
I am not your sweetie, baby, honey, gorgeous, darlin', sweet cheeks, or anything else. Look at my apron. If you weren't staring at my tits, you'd realize that I have a name. How 'bout you use it?

More Things You Might Not Know About Me

Apparently, I can be a little intimidating. Me?

I enjoy reading a thesaurus.

I like my hair brushed by someone else.

If I were to get high off of pot (which I of course wouldn't, as I am drug free) I would be a total sarcastic bitch to you. And I would think it was funny.

Sometimes, I want to be a hippie and live in a commune where we all share everything. (but not drugs.Riiiiight.)

I think that decorative throw pillows are the cutest, but I won't buy them because I could never begin to decide which ones I want more.

I think that credit cards will be America's downfall.

On my drivers license it reads that I am 5'2". This is not the case. I am actually a half inch shorter.

I have a Precious Moments coloring book that only I can color in. With my own big box of crayons that the children cannot touch.

Presents!

I got a present from my Secret Santa at work today. My SS knows what I like. I got gift dollars for my favorite coffee place, Dutch Brothers.
What a great freakin' gift! I should have told everybody that's what I wanted. Then I wouldn't have to pay for coffee for a looong time.

The Only TV Show I Get To Watch

My partner is addicted to Smallville. You know, the one with the young Clark Kent, who alternates between saving people, kicking krypton-enhanced evil mutant ass, and gazing wistfully off into space at absolutely nothing.
For a lesbian, she sure does stare and sigh longingly a lot.

Here are some things I've noticed about Smallville.

There are only two cities in their little world. Smallville and Metropolis.

Superboy must have a fantastic mechanic we never see, because he crashes that red truck in almost every episode. And a few scenes later, it looks as good as new. No scratches. No dents.

For a farm that's in financial trouble, they sure do have an endless supply of cash to keep replacing the tractors that Clark blows up.

And on that thought, does anybody ever do any farming?

For such a rich and powerful guy that Lex is, his home security sucks. Clark can just wander around wherever and whenever he wants, and nobody seems to care.

None of these teenagers ever have any sex! I was having sex in highschool. So were most of the people I knew. Don't you just love TV Land?

Congratulations To Me

Today is the day, nine years ago, that I became a mother. Here is a picture of that scrawny little six pound baby who had jaundice so bad we almost had to spend Christmas in the hospital...










Here is my "baby" now. What a difference nine years makes...thank god she didn't stay yellow...

Things About BrokeMom You Might Not Know

I only passed my second year of French in high school because of my very good friends, Brandy and Jill, and their large handwriting on tests.

I have never broken a bone.

I have only had one cavity in my teeth, and that was when I was 22.

I used to be a preschool teacher.

I play the piano. I took lessons for over ten years.

I love chocolate covered cherries, but I spit out the cherry after sucking out the yummy filling.

I am a Knifty Knitter.

I love buttons.

If you leave your backpack or purse at my house, I will go through it. If confronted about going through your stuff, however, I will tell you the truth. I'm curious, dammit.

Popcorn makes me farty. This is a recently new development.

I am a sucker for full sleeve tattoos.

If you want to buy me a coffee from Dutch Brothers, I drink a sugar-free breve Milky Way.

I hate snow. I have been heard saying while walking in the snow, "Ew yuck it's touching me getitoff!!"

My Underwear

Every day at work, I stand in front of a register by a huge roll-up door. It's about fifty degrees, and gets pretty windy sometimes. I wear a tanktop, a thermal shirt, a larger thermal shirt, and then a sweatshirt over all that. I wear two pairs of socks. I wear a scarf, and really dorky gloves with pockets, so that my fingers can come out and count change. People laugh at me because I look like the little boys off of The Christmas Story, where they fall on the ground and can't get up. I freeze. I whine a lot that I'm cold. Because I'm pretty fucking cold.
I was talking to one of my customers about thermal longjohns. I expressed interest in buying a pair, since it was so damn cold. He was some nice guy, around 40 years old maybe. We chat about how fucking cold it is. He leaves.
About 30 minutes later, he comes back and hands me a plastic package and says "Merry Christmas!"
They were longjohns.
So I told everybody that a customer bought me underwear. That way beats the guy who bought me a diet Coke one day. Way.

Say Cheese

No, she's not angry. She thinks it's funny. I, however, look pretty fucking hot.

Bah Humbug

I hate Christmas. I really do.
Maybe it's not hate. Perhaps it's just apathy, for a "holiday" which means nothing to me anymore. I wish it were over, and I wish I could look forward to not having Christmas next year.

We put up the tree today. It's artificial. I have never ever had an artificial tree. It was seemingly simple. And there won't be pine needles in the carpet. And I am standing up for my belief that in today's world with our depleting natural resources, we shoule be planting trees, not murdering them by the thousands once a specific time of year so we can take it home and put colored lights and candy canes on it!!!!! What a stupid fucking tradition.

We went to see Santa at the Mall today. My partner and I dressed the girls up in their beautiful dresses and decided to stop procrastinating about the whole thing. Everything went fine until my partner asked Santa if she could have a candy cane. (She's a sugar freak. They were just sitting there in a basket! And the moms suffer through more than the kids in those lines.) So she says, "Santa, can I have a candy cane?"
Santa replied, "Only if you sit on Santa's lap!"
Although, I'm glad to see that Santa likes the moms sitting on his lap more than kids. You never know with those Mall Santas.
By the way, I had my back turned when that exchange happened, so I don't know if Santa got his wish. But my partner had candy for all of us...hmm...

Anyway, my point now is that Christmas sucks.

Zizzors

My four year old daughter doesn't say 'scissors'.
She says 'zizzors'.
It's the cutest damn thing I've ever heard. I try to get her to say it as many times as I can, just to hear it.
"Mom, can I have the zizzors?"
Me: "The what?"
"The zizzors!"
Me: "I don't know where they are. Do you know where they are?"
"I think they're in the cupboard!"
Me:"What are in the cupboard?"
"The zizzors!!"
She probably thinks that I'm retarded when it comes to the scissors.

It's Hard To Yell at The Kids When You Have No Voice

I woke up this morning and my voice was gone. I still have not found it, maybe it will show up tomorrow...
My oldest daughter had her birthday sleepover last night. I know what you're thinking now, and no, I didn't lose my voice from screaming repeatedly at a bunch of eight and nine year olds all night. They were very well-behaved.
I can only blame the stuffed up sinuses and slight sore throat from the day before.
After all the little girls had gone home, my children were being pretty bratty, probably accounting from the 3.4 hours of sleep they received the night before. I let it slide for awhile, hoping it would pass. yeah right! So I finally opened up my mouth to let loose with a scary sounding "Knock it off!" or a threatening "Anybody want a time-out?"
And all that came out was a scratchy, whispery, garbled up version ending in a croak.
My children starting laughing at me. They cracked up, and started walking around croaking and whispering, "You kids are gonna' be in trouble! Do you wanna' time-out?"
Where is the respect that I deserve as a mom who spent the previous day at the skating rink with thirteen children who asked every three minutes, "Can we have some cotton candy? Can I have a slushy? I'm hungry! Watch me skate, hey mom, look at me!" And then I took these children to my home, fed them pizza and plied them with movies and popcorn until they passed out from exhaustion.
The respect question was a rhetorical question, by the way. Stop laughing.

Dinner With the Clones

My friend Laura asked me to her birthday dinner last night. We hadn't hung out in a while, so I told her that I would go.
My mistake.
It wasn't that bad. It was just weird. I felt like I was from another planet.
I show up at the restaurant, and immediately feel...well, overdressed. Despite the fact that it was fifty degrees outside, Laura and all of her friends were wearing pants/jeans and skimpy little camisole tops. No sweaters, no coats. They were wearing what looked like jammies!
Her friends were all blonde and size three. No, that's not true, two of them had brown hair.
They all knew each other. I knew no one but Laura. They were all talking about what happened the last time they went to the bar. And then they passed around pictures of nights at bars. Then they talked about what bar they were going to later. And the bar after that.
I felt very old. And fat. I left early, before bar time. I just couldn't take any more of it. Probably because I couldn't tell any of them apart...

Thanksgiving

We had Thanksgiving dinner early.

I am thankful for many things in my life.
I am thankful for my partner, who loves me pretty much unconditionally. She goes above and beyond the norm with each and everything she does. When she spends all day cooking, then cleaning, with three whiny kids (one of whom is ill) underfoot, and manages to make it to bed without biting my head off for being a lazy fat-ass who sat around after I got off work and did nothing but play on the computer for the rest of the day...well, I'd give her a raise if I could.

I am thankful for my children. My youngest, who drew me a picture of "ladies and potatoes", and after giving me love, tells me (sounding very satisfied with herself) "I gave you two hugs and two kisses." As if that could ever be enough. My oldest, who is starting to develop her own sense of style, which just plain freaks me out. She wants to wear this weird black hat, and pink tinted sunglasses, and told her father on the phone this evening, "I don't know why, I just really like the color black!" Then there's my middle child, who, during during dinner, announced, "Please call me Ariel the Mermaid." And when I asked Ariel what she was thankful for, she said, "My daddy, King Triton. And my hair."

I am thankful for my friends, who still invite me to go out, even though I never call them anymore because I'm always at work. The ones who feel free enough to tell me when I am being a bitch. (They're usually right.)

I am thankful for my sanity. I am thankful that the funny itchy rash on my stomach hasn't gotten any larger. I am thankful that my landlady is updating the insulation in the attic and my energy bills will go down. I am thankful that my family is healthy and happy.
I am thankful that I am finally tired enough to go to bed...

Maybe Ramblings

Maybe the thought of it should still sicken me.
Maybe I have a wierd "issue" that I don't want to face. Or even contemplate.
Maybe the thought of
ugh, I can't even go on.
Maybe it excites me and I am honestly confused about why. Bewildered, even.
Maybe it's a scientific thing.
Maybe it's a past-life thing.
Maybe I don't want to talk about it.
Maybe I don't want to think about it.
Maybe I should go to bed.
I should stop worrying about my words. My words are my own. And words are just that. Just...words.
It all seems really simple when I put it that way.
I'm probably going to delete this blog entry later. I will go over it someday when I get the time to update this and wonder "What the fuck was I on?"
Maybe.

With All This (My MasterCard Commercial)

So I have been noticing some things lately.

With my increased income comes more bills. How does that happen?
Well, I can suddenly afford to send my little one to ballet, and my big one to gymnastics. That's eighty bucks a month right there. Then they needed leotards and tights and stuff. About $40.
But the sense of feeling my children are well-rounded and talented at something? Priceless.

My exhusband decided to get himself a lawyer and fuck with custody visitation issues. I'm about $954 in the hole to the lawyer that I had to hire in order to make sure I didn't lose my kids to some dumb technicality. But imagining the look on my ex's face when he found out I wasn't going to just lie down and take it? Priceless. And oh, so worth it. Even if I'm going to be paying my lawyer in monthly payments for the next 3 years. It might actually turn out better than I hoped, because my ex had to declare his income and place of employment, which means <gasp> he might start paying child support! See how excited I get at that? A woman should not have to get excited about child support.

Since my income went up, my food stamps have gone down. Which means I have to budget money from my paychecks into my food budget. Which is just a pain in the ass, to be frank. Do I use the "real" money for groceries first, and then food stamps? Do I use all the food stamps first, and try to buy generic until the next month? Thank heavens for the free lunch programs at the elementary schools, I tell you what.

I have very basic bills. I don't have cable TV. I don't have a car payment. I don't have credit card bills. I don't own a cell phone. We don't go out to eat a lot. I have a slight shopping obsession, but I can justify it right now because what I'm buying is for Christmas.

So I've resigned myself to the fact that I will never get to go back to school to learn something useful. (An AA degree in English just doesn't pay the bills.) I'm resigned to the fact that I will have to keep my job forever. Which makes me wonder if I really want to do that for a long time. Sure, the money is good. But will I be happy in the long run? I've been contemplating having another child, but who is that really fair to? Or unfair to?

You know what though? I'd give up all that extra income just to have the bills paid and to keep those ballet and gymnastics lessons. Nothing extra. No fancy dinners or new clothes "just because". Just to know that I have a roof over my head, food in my cupboards, and my little golden-haired girls dancing around in their leotards would be enough for me.
Priceless.

Things People Said To Me At Work That I Had No Response For

"I was going to buy these organizers from a catalogue, but then they put you on their mailing lists and you never get off of them. I hate junk mail, don't you? (silence for a couple of moments and then she looks around behind her.) I hope they're not following me!"
female customer, about 40 years old

"The flag is hanging down on one side. I spoke to someone yesterday about it. You need to get that flag fixed!! It's hanging down!"
male customer, very upset about the askew American flag, about 50 years old

" You really shouldn't do that stuff right here here in the open."
male customer, noticing the white grout powder on my countertop, aged about 40 years

Perverted Phone Call

The phone rings today at about 11am. Caller ID reads'Privacy Manager' (a service where I can screen my calls, basically). My girlfriend answers the phone, thinking that it's one of her relatives in the hospital again. (Don't ask)
On the other end of the line, we hear this guy. He is talking to someone (not us!) on another phone, and he is being dirty. Oh yes, dirty. He's obviously, uh...touching a certain part of his anatomy and describing a scene that he is watching to someone on the phone. Well, three someones including us.
Always a girl who appreciates a healthy (ahem) personal life, I listen on and off with my girlfriend for about ten minutes, until he's getting close to being...all done. Then I start pushing buttons on the phone and my girlfriend yells, "Hey pervert! Hello? Hey you!"
We hear him say, "Hang on, there's something wrong with my other phone."
And he answers us!
"Uhhh....hello? Is someone there?"
Yeah, I'd say so.
We tell him yes, there is someone there. He asks who.
My girlfriend says, "You should know who, you called me!"
Further conversation ensues about how long we've been listening. He tells me to hold on, and can hear him tell the person on his other phone that he has to go.
We want to know if he's someone that we know who called us accidentally, so we ask him his name. His name is Dan and he's thirty. He says he lives in Sacramento. His story was he was watching his roommate do the deed in the backyard with somebody, and Dan was describing the situation to his female friend on the phone while getting frisky. Apparently he tried to call his friend on his cell first, but then hung up and used the regular phone. Well, tried to hang up anyway!
My girlfriend, being the mischievious sort, tells him, "You just called two lesbians and whacked it on the phone! Good thing we weren't your mother, huh?"
I take the phone from her before she can lecture him about the evils of cell phones, and he says, "Aw man, I can't believe I did this! How did-? What the-? Hey...you girls are lesbians?"
Just like a man. I tell him that yes, we are lesbians, but that is not the issue right now.
Then he asks if we could help him finish!
EW!!
He was nice and polite about it, but still. I told him I'd have to know him a little better before that happened. (Yeah, right.)
Anyway, he needed to finish and we needed to get our daughter from preschool, so I told him to give me his email address and that I'd send him a hot picture of us so he could tell all of his friend what happened. (What a sweetie I am!)
End phone call. What a way to start a day, huh?

Sniffle Snuffle

I awoke this morning with a nose that cannot decide whether it wants to be stuffy or runny, and a sore throat.
I had to spend all day on a fieldtrip with my oldest daughter at a fish hatchery. Oh boy, bet you can guess how fun that was! The trip consisted of:

Riding a school bus with twenty children singing "Do Your Ears Hang Low?"
Walking to a railing over the river to watch a shitload of salmon migrate up a concrete ladder thing.
Walking to a building where a man whapped salmon on the head, then sent them to another man who sliced them open for egg retrieval. (Question running through my head during this display: What is the fish-whapper-guy's job title? What does he tell people he does for a living?)
Watching same twenty children touch a dead fish and then go eat their lunches. (I made my daughter wash her hands-ew!)
Riding home on the same bus with the same children who were now tired, dirty and smelly. My daughter kept telling me, "Mommy, I'm bored!" Bored? I asked her what she had expected riding a school bus for thirty minutes. A circus train?

I tried to take a nap when I got home. I didn't even want to play my game, I felt sooooo yucky. But as soon as I would drift off to sleep (on the couch) someone would inevitably ask, "Mommy, what's this? Mommy, how do I do that? Mommy, are you asleep?"

Fer cryin' out loud!

My Addiction

Hello, my name is BrokeMom. And I am addicted the The Sims.
Yes.
I love the game. I can create and destroy and decorate to my little heart's content.

I bought a new computer the other day, a nice fast one. Did I mention that it was fast? And better? I agonized over the decision to buy one for a looong time. We were going to buy one with our tax refund in February. But we needed the money for other things. Then we were going to buy one when some settlement money came through. But we needed it for other things. So I finally figured, "Heck, all that money in my savings account is just sitting there. Might as well use it!"

And I did.

It all started with The Sims. And then I got an expansion pack or four. And then I received The Sims 2 as a gift. But my dinosaur, er, computer wouldn't support it. With my new computer, I can now play The Sims 2. Oh wait, I can pretty much play whatever in the hell I want!
Whoo-hoo!
I have to go now. It beckons me...