and those white lines on the streets, they are merely a suggestion for some.

let me start this with i am not an animal person.



when i say animal, i mean person place and things.



i don't keep plants alive. i don't like living breathing things. you know. dogs. cats. rats. children.



i used to think it was because i was mauled by a dog as a 3 year old child.



i think now it's because they are just icky. they sniff my crotch. they lick the lotion off my legs. note to dogs. it SMELLS like limes, but there is no LIME in my lotion. not the brightest creatures which is another reason i'm not a big fan of dogs.



i do like dogs better than cats. i will never ever own a cat because A) my daughter is allergic. and B) you have to have them POOP in a BOX, then scoop said POOP up, and dispose of it. I didn't even do that for my children. So no cats.



My children are dying for a dog. They have a dog at daddys. Actually they had 2 and one ran off. His name was Charlie and Trinity calls him "Chawwee" and just the sheer cuteness alone makes me ready to go run out tomorrow and buy her a damn dog and name it Chawwee. And then give her ice cream. Then commend her for pooping in the proper receptacle.

We do not have a dog. We do, however, have turtles. Miniature turtles. 2 of them. One is named Cotton Candy and the other one I don't know.

We keep them in the bathroom because they smell like, well, like shit. So you can take a dump and not know if it's your poop or the turtles stinking. FUnnily enough, their food smells like poop too. It's a real treat to me the germaphobe with a super sensitive sense of smell.

My dumbass brother gave them to my girls last summer. I'm not sure why. He had 3. He gave 2 to us and one to my niece. Since we got 2, we got the little plasticy cage/aquarium thing. Since my niece didn't get one, she used a bowl and 24 hours later, that turtle was OUTTA there. Gone.

So a year later my girls still have both of theirs. I seriously think I'm only keeping them to earn brownie points with my children. ("See, girls, mommy is so cool I let you keep the poopy smelling pets that we can forget to feed for a few days or week and they somehow survive.") Somehow I thought this would be a lesson to learn how to take care of pets. If these turtles were dogs their corpses would have started stinking up my bathroom 6 months ago because we almost never feed them. The data I have found suggests they need fed twice a day.

But see, feeding them makes them go poop. So I feed them every other day to cut back on stink. Call PETA now.

All that was to tell you I'm not a big animal lover. I wear rubber gloves when I clean their poopy cage up, and I will not, will NOT touch them. I hate animals. Living things. THings that breathe. So I use a fish scoopy net thing to get them out.

What do I hate worse than living things? DEAD USED to be living things. I've had a few dead mice thrown in my face growing up and dead stuff SKEEVES me out. BIG TIME.

So last week, I walk by the bathroom and notice the floor is all wet. This is the downstairs bathroom that never flushes right and after having to leave a toilet full of poop for my husband to deal with one morning at 6 am, I haven't used it since because well, I poop alot. Sometimes I need aids to do so, and then we have a real multiple flusher. So I need the reliable toilet.

I walk by the bathroom that I never use, and therefore have forgotten about Cotton Candy and whatever the other one is, so who knows how their lives have been going. And the floor is wet.

Huh. Weird. I turn the light on, and the tank is usually on the toilet, and there it is, flipped upside down on the toilet seat. Thank GOD the lid was down or they might have just found a nice new shit smelling home.

I pick up the aquarium and was terrified to look. Neither one is moving. I holler for the person I married for this precise reason because even though I can do anything a boy can do but better and my superpowers are awesomeness and red hair and ass kicker extroidinaire, well, shit. I cannot look in this cage to see the dead used to be living creatures. This is why women marry men. That and emptying the mice traps.

He comes in and one is moving. K. The other one is not.

I'm torn. I can't keep one and not the other. The only reason I have them is becuase there are 2 and I always figured if one died, I'd just hire the mutant ninja turtle guys to come whack the other. At this point I don't know which one belongs to Arielle, which one belongs to Chandler, or why neither child is helping with the monthly feedings...

Finally that lazy sumbitch starts moving around. So the 2 things that I thought were dead used to be living creatures, are both still alive. THANK GOD! Thankyou God for saving these turtles lives. Thankyou God for not dissapointing my little girls. Thankyou God for not making me have to face dead smelly things that smelled bad enough alive, for not having to have a turtle funeral, and for not having to decide who's turtle it was we were burying.

The one who didn't move had a shell as white as snow. I'm not sure how long they sat there without water. Could have been a full 24 hours. I know I put water and a crapload of food in the tank for them, shit be damned! EAT AND BE MERRY SWEET TURTLES!!! I hate you less now than I did a month ago!! I'm sorry I contemplated leaving you behind in our apartment in Seymour, leaving you as orphans and lying to my girls, your mommies.

Sometimes, you think you hate something. And then you give it half a chance, and you wind up liking it. I thought I was going to hate Indy and was pretty much calling it "temporary" even though that meant 3 years while I go to college.

I had a nightmare the other night that my husband was killed. I know, stupid right. Well, there has been alot of activity in the area with police officers getting injured/killed. And as horrified as I was to wake up and realize that was a horrible dream, it occurred to me, without him I have no home here. My home is because of him. I lose him, I lose Indy. Through my nightmare I realized I actually like it here. It takes me 30 minutes to get through the city in the mornings, just to get to Greenwood and I LIKE IT. I like passing the yahoos doing 50 downtown. AS IF.

5 weeks ago, that was me. 5 weeks ago I'm doing 30 in a 45, 40 in a 50 where everyone is doing 70. I'm not so scared anymore. I was planning out how to pass semi trucks miles in advance. I was having severe anxiety attacks. The thought of having to go back to my old shitty life in Seymour, and my old shitty go nowhere job in a go nowhere town made me appreciate the potential I'm sitting on here.

look out Indy. I'm here. I have arrived. I am home.

and yet, she looks like me.

lastnight.

i'm washing Trinity's hair.

Being 5 years old, she equates this to having a root canal.

The "santa is watching you" excuse is getting ready to expire.

I decided to sing her a song Donnie and I had made up for her when she was a baby and would sing to her all the time.

She will sometimes search the radio for her song.

Maybe someday she'll find it.

So she tells me Daddy no longer belongs to me. Um, yes, thats right babygirl. "Him BJs now. And you Wotney's. I'm yours and Daddys. And BJs and Wotneys."

Yep.

"Except I don't have daddy's hair. Daddy have bwack hair. I have lellow hair and it's turning R-E-D. I don't have Wotney's hair either. Him have no hair. Him have zero hairs."

Well I rebooted my computer and got my digital photo professional to work! Duh. So that's just awesomeness. You can see my pages in their bright blinding glory.

I intentionally made these bright and wacky because my life just doesn't have enough color in it. I'm trying. I have a blank pallette at our new apartment and I'm trying to make art to spice things up here.

I love my album for one reason, I made it MY way. In the old days, when I tried so hard to get published, I made things the HAPPENING way. What was HIP. IN. Well, I have no idea what's hip or in. I don't pick up magazines (they want so much money for them I'd rather buy papers! LOL)

I have rediscovered scrapbooking and it feels great. I stopped when I got divorced. I had no more happy memories to document. Nothing to cherish. I had my daughters but we were sad 99% of the time. I cried alot. I was alone. I remember my heart just aching night after night.

When I found Rodney, I found the will to live again. A reason to get out and live. We did so many fun things with the girls last summer and I cannot wait to scrapbook them. He's seen my dozens of OLD albums (with Donnie in them) and has told me he can't wait till we have our own albums of us, ones we can display. And here is our start. Here are our memories.

He loves my art. I love him for that. He knows making art makes me happy and thats why he likes me doing it.

He told me last weekend I could go to Archivers while I was out buying his Christmas gifts. I responded to him that I don't go in there and come out without buying stuff. And I wanted to buy HIM something. But the thought was so sweet. That he didn't care if I stopped by and got a few sheets of paper or something.

Supposedly he bought me a gift there. We went in the next day together and he wanted ideas for other stuff I might like for future gifts. I looked at him and responded that there is not one thing in Archivers that I couldn't put to good use! LOL

Feels good to have a man that listens to my likes and dislikes, then has the motivation to go to the store and find something just right for me. He pays attention when I speak, adn it shows.

It makes me want to make 100 pages about how awesome he is, how sweet he is, how much I make myself gag when I say stuff like that, but basically he supports me. It took me a while to let him do that. I''m so used to not having support. I'm used to being torn down when I"m already down, instead of lifted up when I need it most.

So there are some deep thoughts out of me for now. I'm sure this weekend there will be more to come when I see just what that box holds under the tree! :)

my wedding album...

I decided to get hopping on our wedding album. I guess I put it off because the photos sucked. Big time. And no one seemed to have a camera half way through the ceremony. My mother stopped the ceremony to ask if I had any film with me (at the altar) when I'm a digital camera owner.

Yeah. Sure. Let me stick my hand down my dress.

So that is my only wedding day regret. That I didn't fork over a few hundred dollars to get some photos that reflected our love for eachother.

So I didn't scrap them because I thought I had to do something extra special and fancy with them, since they sucked. I realized that I wanted to do them MY way, funky. So I am. I got 6 pages done this weekend.

Then I went to upload to share.

My scanner doesn't scan 12x12. So I figured I'd scan then stitch them together in photo software.

Well, my stitching software doesn't want t work. Ok.

I'll reupload my "borrowed" copy of photoshop.

That won't upload.

Can't get a freebie version of photoshop elements online anymore. THey used to give that away. No more.

My new computer did not come with elements like my old one did.

So I'm stuck photographing them.

My camera is dying. The color and sharpness is for SHIT. I'm waiting to buy a new camera soon.

I go to upload them. My canon digital photo professional will not open. It is the only way I can convert my raw photos to jpg.

Will. NOT. Open.

Ok. By this point I'm throwing animal crackers at the screen, so proud of my layouts, so desperate to share them to I don't know who, the anonymous world wide web I suppose. But I've started this so I have to get the pages uploaded!!!!

Finally I find some dumbass program to convert the raws, and well, the color is even more shitty.

But hey, they are here, look at them dammit!

I decided the "theme" in my album will be our wedding date. I'm using it in a different way on each page. Of course you can't SEE it since I had to take shitty photos of the layouts. But well, I guess sometimes cameras and scanners throw tantrums. Just like children. And just like mothers who need a dr pepper.

well it's almost another 1 year anniversary. READ: Prepare yourself for vomit.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

i'm starting to get this feeling that i use these anniversaries to invoke emotion that isn't always there in my everyday life, and reflect on just about any and everything i have been through. like a narcissism thing. like i'm looking for just any good reason to talk about myself and my life and my issues and my interests. but i guess i can write whenever and about whatever i feel like. it's a free country last time i checked. so maybe i don't need to validate myself and i'll just write and have no good excuse. because technically the 1 year anniversary of my husband proposing marriage to me isn't until December 25. I'm sure i'll write then too.

me? narcissistic? i'm a passive aggressive narcissistic. (I can't even spell that fuckin word)

as in:

Rodney: You're hot.

Me: nuh uh. look at my eyebrows, they are out of control. i need to tweeze. (said as i flex the guns looking clearly down at my arms and not giving a bit of attention to hiding my crappy eyebrows)

Rodney: Seriously. You're hot.

Me: (Rolling over and acting all coy when we both know i'm showing off my ass on purpose) I know.....You're hot too.

Rodney: (who doesn't act or pretend or play the passive bullshit games we women do) I know.

I truly am trying to find and search for things to write about because I had promised myself I'd write everyday while I was off work to instill the writing habit so I can get going on this novel that I'm no closer to figuring out the subject to than I was when I was 12 and Ihad then decided that at 12 my life was just so intersting that the entire world would read my memoir. It wasnt true then and it's even less true now. But someday I do hope to inflict the equisite pain of my personal writings on the shelves of some chain book store that will sell my soul and thoughts for 24.99 (i'm going hardcover baby) Just as soon as I find time to actually sit, write, outline, and figure out who to blame for my being the way I am. Somewhere in between picking up fucking poptart crumbs out of my car, watching soap operas, washing 4 loads of dishes a day when it is just my SPOUSE and ME HERE THIS WEEKEND...cooking ramen noodles and crushing tylenol to snort, I guess this staying home thing just doesn't allow for the time I figured it would.

So here I am. 6 days into unemployed, going nuts, and just now sitting to write. I did watch an entire season of Sex and the City the other night. All 3 discs. Which always puts me in the mood to say something because just like those girls on the show, I've dated alot of losers, freaks, and seemingly normal men that turned out to be sissy crybabies who wouldn't know a drop of testosterone if it jump up and spit on them. But I just can't say it any better than Carrie does. She is genius. Rather, the author that wrote the book and shows is the genius, but she is the genius behind carrie.

i love watching the show with my husband (which is why i bake him cookies every day because he suffers though this show without complaining) because it makes me truly greatful for the wonder that is him. He didn't cme into y life and make any grand promises for grand gestures to come at a later date. Take heed men....he just did them. Want to win a girls heart? Just shut the fuck up and do what you say and say what you mean and mean what you say. We appreciate doers not sayers. And criers. You don't have to hold open a door for me. It's perfectly fine if I get it myself because it shows you I can take care of myself. And kick your ass.

But this..."Someday I wanna buy you a big bouquet of flowers." well, do it! If not, then don't say it. I guess I refer to one really big burn, the rebound loser. I say loser because he lost. Me. That's pretty big. But I love his style. You gotta admit. He'd make these grand promises of things he wanted to do for me. So when he asked for 10 bucks for gas, it didn't look so bad. Because see, he WANTED to buy flowers, but look, I'm broke. So you gotta help me so I can get to the flower buying stage.

My husband had 3 bouquets of flowers sent to me in 2 weeks. I guess his proposal meant so much because he never asked anything about rings and my preferences or anytihng. He just got the basics that I would only wear white gold if I were ever to get remarried (that was a deliberate hint in case he was going to buy me any kind of jewelry). Then he went and bought it and well, I will admit, he fished around a bit with hints to make sure I was in fact going to say yes if he asked. Man, that would have been a sucky ass drive out of the wildlife refuge if I had said no! It was such a surprise because out of all the rings in the world, I might never have picked this one on my own, but every day it still makes me so happy to see it. So delicate and dainty and me. Any asshole can go buy a 1.5 carat solitare from Zales and call it a day. It takes a real man to put thought into my style and know that a low profile ring was going to fit into my life and my job much better. And I don't think he realized that the only wedding band that would have went with it was the one I got, but it really makes the set stand out.

Ok. Enough jewelry talk. Hey, it's Christmas and nothing will ever top the diamond ring at Christmas. I will never get a piece of jewelry like this again so I have to gush.

A year ago though, I had this feeling that he had this up his sleeve. It was a gut feeling. I was hoping for an engement ring, but hey, a diamond necklace would have been good too. I wasn't going to be one of those pissy ass women. I knew hed ask me eventually. It was more of a finance thing. I didn't know he had money to buy it. lol But I KNEW he wanted to marry me and I wanted to marry him. (If you are new here, we had been together for 6 weeks when we got engaged and i regret none of it.) Mr Rebound loser kept picking out these $4000 rings that were as ugly as fuck and ssaying maybe someday...or would take me to walmart the next day and ask if I'd settle for a nice $200 chip. Um. Neither please. I realize now that it was a rebound. And not love because you don't treat someone you love like that. Hell maybe it was bipolar. (Him not me) I know it seems odd that over 2 years after the fact I still harbor ill will towards this guy, but it was that kind of headgame bullshit that I'm still fully coming to terms with. That whole "look, see I WANT to buy you this ring that would pay for your car three times over but since I can't, I CAN buy you this piece of shit and if you REALLY loved me you'd take it, otherwise you are shallow and I'm going to tell all my friends how shallow you are because I make promises I don't keep." I guess the jokes on him because he didn't really realize women talk too. I just know my husband means what he says and doesn't make promises he won't or can't keep. If you don't personally know him, he calls it just how he sees it. Sometimes he borders on rude to people, and hell, that's one of the things I love about him. He stands up for the people he cares about. And if I ask him to, he will bite his tongue because he knows I'm a peacekeeper, and if I want it, he will always respect me and go with it. But like me, he isn't a liar and if he doesn't respect you, you know it. Because he simply cannot hide it.

I said yes a year ago because I loved the man. I knew him. But not nearly in the deep sense I know him now. I think it's something that grows every single day. The day I married him I knew it was forever. There was no "Well if it doesn't work out there is always divorce". It was either we get married and we make it work or we don't get married. Period.

I think what I like most about us is that we are alike but we are not. Before him I went through a variety of guys. I dated the guys just like me. They drove me nuts with their neuroses. I dated guys opposite of me. I drove them nuts. Then I made the fatal error of using my exH as a guage and tried to find guys that were the complete opposite of him because he drove me crazy and if we were not soul mates, then why would i date anyone who resembled him at all? Well. As it turns out, THEY ARE ALL LIKE HIM. Right about the time I stopped doing that comparison thing and just started seeing people for who they are, my husband came walking along in life. Quiet, non assuming , wanting nothing from me but to get to know me, and eventually worship me. Sometimes we make me sick at how sickly sweet we are. Sometimes we make me sick at our nasty ass farts. And somewhere in between there are 2 people who just make a life together each day, who spend time together each day listening to eachothers day, problems, observations, worries. We get to know eachother more deeply every day. We are both busy busy people, we have as many kids as anyone else I know, except those 18 kids and counting idiots, and we know that if you don't put your marriage as high up as you do your relationship with your children, well, you may as well not get married. I've done that whole my kids come first and the marriage a distant 2nd. Somewhere, those ideas I had about how parenting and marriage works are lining the cage of some stupid bird. I'm not a real big fan of friends and hanging out because if i hear that "My husband won't let me" i see red. Not at the husband but at the dumb set of boobs he is married to. REally? You still live in 1732? Because I live in 2009 and last I checked I didn't get a labotomy when I said my vows. Dear God, the blood.

Or how about the "if she'd do (insert some stupid task it takes longer to bitch about than actually do)" and I look at the poor man who had his hands chopped off when he got married. Should have amputated something else then....

No, I like that neither one of us have to really ask the other for anything, but yet, we have respect enough to ask and not assume, and everytime the other one is fine and happy to do it because we were asked, but would have anyways.

Maybe after 1 year we don't have all of the answers but well, we do have most of them.

I guess I've rambled on about everything and nothing long enough. We have one more "1 year anniversary" and then it's all just gravy on the forever train. Our wedding anniversary. Dear lord. Get your vomit bag ready now...gush.

one year ago today...i farted.

Sunday, November 01, 2009

i'm starting to notice that alot of my writings start with "one year ago today..." "one month ago today..." "this time last year..."

hmmm. i guess i'm sentimental. i'm only this way on paper. lastnight, as my husband and i drove home from apartment shopping in Indy, we stopped at an arbys to eat. by the way my husband got the large beef and cheddar sandwich and i think the guy at the next table was a little jealous of all that meat. good buy.

meat talk aside. i farted and burped without shame. i love going to other towns and being crude in a public place. it's freeing. you should try it. that will be fun to do more often because everyone will be a stranger to me in Indy.

one year ago today was our first date. and it also commenced a week of him calling me daily and me not answering or returning. and yes. this guy really married me. i should be at the bottom of a rumpke dumpster for that, but as he knows, it was a bad week for me, and meeting someone that was quite a decent hardworking intelligent handsome man who actually WANTED to spend his time with me, seemed to be a little frightening.

quit your job, not pay your child support, and whine more than my children and i'd probably call you back. sad but true.

i think about those days of falling in love alot. it wasn't like i thought it would be. it was a whole hell of alot easier. i've dated. alot. and i've cared very deeply for people, but as i found out, love isn't supposed to be hard. it's WORK yes. but not hard work.

we both have ALOT of flaws. and we are not afraid to admit them to eachother. i know if he's being an ass, and i tell him, he'll still love me, and get over his mood. and i pretty much keep my fat trap shut when i'm in an ass mood because i don't take well to being told i'm being an ass.

our first date still cracks us up when we look back. ok guys, he INTENTIONALLY wore his oldest baggiest clothes. i firmly believed he got me to fall in love with his personality first, then let me in on the appearance goods by the 2nd date. by the time our 3rd date came, i had 3 bouquets of flowers to my name. i think i got that the entire 9 years i was married to bachelor #1.

every single fucking day i wake up and smell him in the house even though he's long gone by the time my 6 am alarm goes off. i smell his pillow and i feel his presence. i feel his hands guide me throughout my day as they do in the evenings whn we go out and he keeps his arm protectively around me.

if i'm in a ponytail and no makeup mood. he says its my natural beauty look. if i'm all decked out, i'm smokin.

i don't even remember having a bad idea because he finds the good in everything i say. i regret not one second we have spent together, and each day, if it's possible, i think i love him more.

he took me into his heart one day last november and not only me, but my 3 kids. he knows he is not their dad but he loves them like he is. and they know it. they know he'd do anything for them as he would his own child. we have 4 daughters in our home.

i came home a few months ago, and said i wanted to go to college. he didn't ask how i would get that done, he didn't condescend he didn't laugh. he smiled and said that was awesome and asked what i was going to study. when i made my announcement he smiled and said that would be so awesome, to both be first responders and that was that.

i never ever have to explain myself. i never ever have to PROVE myself. all i have to do is BE myself.

happy first year honey. i know we're the couple people hate, the mooshy gooshiest, the fartiest smelliest, we do shit no one understands, we make jokes that seem so stupid and we quote sex and the city and jeff dunham more than we come up with original thoughts. i don't regret a single second from my previous life because it shaped me into the woman you love to love, and i love the way you love me.

plain and simple...i love you. and i just realized i better come up with some heavy duty mooshy shit by our wedding anniversary.

ps thankyou for the limegreen roses. only us.

like that bamboo shoot she keeps growing.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

as i stride through life and move forward, i cannot help but reflect on the past. whats new right. i have been in purge mode as we prepare for our move to Indy and i have sifted through boxes of old school papers, old art, chandler learning to write and arielle learning math i can't do. pictures tucked in boxes. art poked in between my bed and compuer desk. little girls growing up.

i look back to where i've been, to fully appreciate where i'm going. it has been almost a year since rodney came into my life. or rather, i came into his. without knowing i was coming into his life. an innocent myspace friend request. at a time where i was not ready to trust a man. i was not prepared to love or be loved. i think being ready to BE loved is harder than being ready to love.

i was not ready. i was so scared about life. i was so not knowing where i was going to go with my future. i was starting a new job and that meant putting college on the back burner yet again. i had a hospital scare in august and by october, was in full on party mode, trying to drink away the pain and the fear.

i remember opening my door that first night for rodney and instantly thinking i was not going to be his kind. he was too quiet and i was too trashy. or so i would believe. too many skeletons. too little to offer. nothing but a bunch of baggage from other guys that had hurt me in my past.

who knew that i was not too trashy and he was no where near as quiet as he led me to believe that first date. who knew he was quietly interrogating me. who knew he had the cop thing going on.

it took me like 2 seconds to fall in love with this man, and many months to let him love me. it was AFTER our wedding before i started to trust him and believe i might actually be as good a wife as he said i would be. all i knew was that i failed before. i surely was just not the marrying kind.

it has taken me many months to believe in our future, and trust that it is there for the taking, and to see that light at the end of the road. but i see it. and each day it becomes more real. each day i love him more just because he loves me just how i am. he not just gives me a life i couldn't have on my own, but he gives me a sense of myself. which as someone who identified herself only by her marriage and measures her self worth by what her spouse thought of her the first time around, i know that that is dangerous thinking. but yet, he allows me to stay an individual as well as be a part of this team we have.

we are a team. our family succeeds because we work together. someone i hadn't seen in a while asked me how my kids were recently and it felt sooooo good to say "great" and genuinely mean it. i measure my self worth more on how my kids are because if i'm not happy, they aren't happy, and believe me, a year ago this was true.

watching my 10 year old sprout right up and become more secure with herself tells me she IS secure with her life. she can focus on her own things instead of worrying about tomorrow.

a year ago i was given a bamboo shoot in the hospital and it was the best gift because i'm a serial plant killer. with bamboo, you just water it about once a week and let it be. no extra attention needed. it has almost doubled its size which at this point, i'm amazed it's even alive. hell, i still wiggle the turtles to see if they are among the living because besides my children, i just don't keep things alive.

but that bamboo sits on my kitchen bar and serves as a daily reminder. a daily reminder of those terrifying few days in the hospital where they didn't know if i would live or die, the months following where i myself have doubled in size. a reminder that giving yourself a little attention each week goes a long way. paying attention to those little areas in life. those moments where you stop what you are doing and hug your child. where you eat chocolate for dinner just for the hell of it. the little things.

to this day my favorite quote is from the movie vanilla sky, "every passing moment is a chance to turn it all around." i had no idea that one year ago my simple message on myspace was going to turn it all around.

The patron behind me at the restaraunt lastnight farted...

Friday, July 03, 2009

and my daughter turned 10 two days ago and which one of those events do you think i texted said daughter?

The fart.

MY oldest turned 10 on Wednesday and I think I might have just made it without a tear. I did cry from the person farting but only cause I was silently laughing so hard I cried. And yet I forgot to text her happy birthday wednesday mornig.

I have wracked my brain for the last 3 days on wanting to say something about this occasion. I mean my oldest child is 10 now. Double digits. Wow. But after last year's post I'm just not sure I could ever top that. It's still one of my most treasured writings.

Maybe it was such a hard birthday because it was the first one divorced. And as it turns out, the last one. Maybe it was hard because the school year was for shit. Because my sweetheart was strugging so hard to find her new self right there with me.

The further I fell, the further down she went right next to me. I do believe our lives started to turn around right about June, though, and we worked our way back up together. And we moved forward and she grew so much this year.

You know that little feeling of throw up you get in your mouth when you know someone is about to gush about shit you don't care about? Yeah. IT's in your mouth now isn't it?

So Miss Arielle Renee is 10 now. And as I've told my darling husband who's headstrong child doesn't know how to take Arielle (who the fuck does?) that Arielle wasn't meant to be a child. She was one of those babies born smoking a cigar and cursing. No really. Toys were wasted on her but for years we've bought them out of obligation. SHe'd want a toy you saw on television only to *LOOK* at it. Her bunk beds at her dads are still as I left them, piled high with SHIT. I think she wedges herself in her bed similar to how a mouse can go through a hole the size of a pencil.

She has went to the theater to see the Lord of the Rings (do the math on how old she must have been), Transformers, War of the worlds, almost all of the Star wars. Who cares abot barbie shit? She wants the action dude.

Arielle has asked for a cell phone since she was 6. Keep dreamin kid. I didn't get one till she turned 8 so she was waiting. But at 10, she now has one because seriously, she needs one with all her running around she does, and what else do you get the kid who has everything and plays with nothing? She also got a drawing set to foster her love of drawing, and a recycling paper kit becase she is big on saving the planet and shit. And her dad and step mom are taking her clothes shopping.

She came into my work on her birthday for the first time since I've been there. She didn't say much but I could tell she liked being there and seeing the people I work for. I talk about them at home, and now she has a visual. I'm trying to raise all my children up with a respect for the human race and compassion but unless you see it, it's hard to know what your doofy mom means.

she rolls her eyes when she thinks I'm not looking. She thinks her parents are heroes. She's still young and dumb enough to think we have the answers. BUt witht hat eye rolling thing, I give that 9 more months till she thinks we are complete idiots.

She is almost in middle school and she is smaller than her 7 year old sisters. Most people look at her and think she's 7ish. And treat her as so. And shes about 50 stuck in that body. Her school teacher this year still amazes me. She inspired my daughter to learn, to read, to live and explore her world. And the light in Arielle's eye is worth about a million bucks. She went from making Ds and low Cs in 3rd grade to straight As and low Bs in 4th.She says very little about the divorce these days. In fact she complains about very little.

She is getting right to that maturity level where I can level with her, and it works better than a spanking or timeout. Her sisters get pissed but when they think they can vacuum, do dishes, do laundry WITH the fabric softener, instead of shredding our house like a tornado, well, then I'll treat them with that same respect.

I love that my sweetheart prefers nature walks, animals, water, good books, steak and potatoes. I love that she is growing into a young lady. She spends more time on her hair than I do. And one day I will look at my child, and not see just my daughter but my sister in life. But right now I see my wonderfully perfectly imperfect sweetheart, I see my daughter with the maturity and wisdom of a young woman, the innocence of a child, and an individual who will one day go off to college and eat the fucking world to pieces. She not only will grab life by the balls, she will eat life. (not the balls fuckstick) She will not fail because it isn't in her bones.

And she's mine forever.

(LAST YEARS POST)
Monday, June 30, 2008
so what the crappin crap are you lookin at?


just a sappy sentimental momma here, who's baby is turning 9 tomorrow. that's right, my firstborn is going to be 9. OMG. what happened to the time?

it's hard to believe where the last 9 years went, in particular the last one. i say she is my baby, because she is. always. i think her birthday means more to me than mothers day, because it's THE day i became a mother. and it was a pretty profound moment in a life full of mundane.

9 years ago today i was packing my bags for the hospital visit. all the crap that what to expect book said i'd need (and did NOT thankyouverymuch) they didn't tell me to pack towels to clean up the mess of my heart spilling out all over for the world to see.

the book said i'd have hemroids (wrong again thanks for that scare) they didn't tell me i'd weep at the sight of my newborn baby. they didn't tell me that i'd go through hell and fire to see her and that those 5 long hours we were seperated at her birth would be the longest of my entire life.

they didn't tell me about love at first sight. the only instance of that emotion i believe in.
they told me i'd be sore. they didn't once speak of the possibility of being sliced and diced. and being my first time in the hospital and first time to need stitches, just how much excrutiating pain i'd go through, and it was so wonderful i did it again 2 more times.

they didn't tell me that scar across my belly and nether region would forever serve as my badge of honor.

they didn't tell me that every move she made would be magic, or that my then husband and i would actually have fights over who got to hold her.

i knew every parent thought their child was the cutest ever and was expecting my kid to be as ugly as a stick just cause i suck at lying and that would be my ultimate test. but i wasn't expecting her to be so pretty that even her doctor begged to hold her and threatened to keep her an extra day just so he could look at *my child*. so what if Dr. B says that to every first time mom. I believed him then and I still believe him. She really is that pretty. I'm not lying either. She stinks like farts alot and I will not lie to her about her morning breath, but she is beautiful.
My mom told me I'd love my child more than I loved myself, and I didn't believe her. But when I held my newborn daughter for the first time, it was then that I truly discovered love. And every year, on July 1st, I celebrate not only her birthday but my discovering real love, pure love, love without consequence or conditions. I celebrate that day that I became more than I ever knew I could be, and found something I never knew I was missing.

I found a piece of my heart and it is forever raw and exposed for my children. They are my life. My blood. And in this chaotic life I have, they are my only constant. They love me BACK without consequence or conditions as well. I never knew what it felt like to be loved so wholeheartedly until they entered my life.

I'd have had a dozen just like my sweetheart if I could have, and if you know, I could withstand the fart smells because they fart. Alot. And they poop. And they sleep with fingers up my nose, knees in my back, hair in my face.

When I cry they wipe my tears and tell me life is good and we have eachother. They remind me daily why I'm alive and why my life is important. They tell me I made no mistakes and that they will learn to live with the facts of our life. Sometimes they are pissed that we don't own a Wii, but they live with it.

So tomorrow, I celebrate my life forever changing. I remember very distinctly going to a friends house on our way to the hospital on that morning. We had all the excitement of parents to be. Not realizing how much pain I was about to experience. No words in the world could have prepared me for that. Our friends asked if we wanted to borrow their video camera and we shrugged and said no thanks. It wasn't that big of a deal to get my hoo ha on video forever was it? We'd have pictures of *the kid* to look at after she was all cleaned up. Our friends looked at eachother as if to say "they have no clue..." and we did not.

We had no idea as we hopped into our little blue cavalier that day (that I still to this day drive) with our perfect little carseat, perfectly packed bags, ready to go get our baby and just be perfect.

Bringing her home was as much as an adventure because I was certain that the car ride would kill her. Babies didn't survive car rides did they? Plus, everyone said bundle my baby up. It was 110 degrees F that day. WTF was I supposed to do? tgake her home in just a onesie?!?! What kind of mother was I?It was the 4th of July when we took her home, and we were there about 3 hours when we decided to show her her new crib (that she never EVER slept in). We put her down and I took a photo. That was the precise moment the depression set in. I loved this person so much it hurt. I remember holding my pudgy belly, and just weeping. Now she was out, free, and I was responsible for her. Responsible for another person. I don't think people who aren't parents can understand that feeling. You think you do, but you don't. I didn't. Of couse I was just 22 years old, and not all that bright at the time.

It took me many months, dare I say years, to learn to cope with that kind of love. That hurt kind of love. That flip out when your child busts her lip open love and her dad actually calls in sick to work because she is actually BLEEDING love. That can't stand to hurt her feelings in any sort of way love.

Fortunately, I've learned how to deal with it, and regularly torture her now at regular intervals. I've learned that love sometimes means letting go. She had to spread her wings and as hard as it was to let her enter a real school with real peanuts in it, I did it. I was anxiety ridden every single day and it'll only be worse when she enters public school, I did it because she needed it. She had to stop living in that plastic bubble.

She is different in many ways. More unique than any child I know. She is a tough cookie and is hard to like sometimes. But she takes it all in stride. She takes life as it comes, and never once have I heard her complain that she cannot go to dairy queen, or have ice cream, or regular birthday cakes. It doesn't bother her that her friends can eat with reckless abandon and not die. It doesn't because she was born this way. She was born special, and I think God gave me my challenge on the first try, just to break me in.

So happy early birthday Arielle Renee. Our life isn't perfect but it's ours, and we enjoy the little moments and for that I'm glad. I'm glad that you have 2 parents who love you dearly and you go to bed at night safe with that knowledge. Your heart was broken when your dad and I split, and you'll carry those scars forever, but I'm so glad that you know every day that we are both still there equally there for you, and better off apart. You understand that life takes turns, and people aren't always happy, and happiness is what matters. You are about to start a new life with a new *mom* and now you have 3 parents who love you dearly.


You know what, despite the stinky morning breath and farting in the car with the windows up, YOU ARE LOVED.

A blue notebook.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

lastnight i was spending time with my daughters before time to take them to their dads. My stepdaughter found a notebook that I immediately recognized but had not seen in almst 2 years.

It was Arielle's journal from her first year at traditional school. I read it cover to cover in 5 minutes, most of it was made up stories. Since I never saw it at the end of last school year, I wasn't quite sure what their prompts were in school for the assignments. I mean Arielle wrote that mom is scary bcause she made beef stew. LOL

I held my breath through most of it, because last year was pretty rough. If *I* was unhappy, and I was, then you know my child was and she might have expressed it in her journal. She did. There was alot of frying brains and sadness in her words.

I did not, however, expect the book itself, or the dates written on each page to hit me so hard. I spent the better part of 2 hours crying, remembering the night I bought this notebook...it rings out crystal clear in my head.My children were starting private school and they had to have 6 notebooks for class. The spriral dollar notebooks were unacceptable. It had to be the nonspiral, 3 dollar apiece notebooks. I spent 18 bucks on notebooks that night. It was the eve of their first day at school, peanuts and all. I'm at walmart at midnight trying to get everything they could need. All new uniforms, lunch food as they were not allowed to eat lunch provided (even though I qualified for free lunches at the time...thanks) I had 100 dollars i nmy newly opened up checking account. My total was way over 200. I had to call for more money. And then go get it. And then come back and have all my items rerung. I cried like a little girl that night in walmart...I had no job yet, I had to shove my kids off into the real world, and into a school that would pass judgment not onto the husband who raised his fist, but to the wife who had the balls to leave him. That's how it goes with some people I suppose. There are assholes all over Seymour who think *I* did something wrong. I actually had a few *churchgoers* asked me if i left just so i could sleep around....and people wonder why i have rage issues! But that is how my precious little girl started school...with turmoil, with judgment, confused. Her mommy hurt so bad yet she knew her daddy was a good person. It didn't help that it took every penny I made just to buy lunches and pay for the nonstop *class fees* they had.

So Arielle went straight to public school this year. I have a good job, they can ride the bus system now, and voila, they get to eat lunch like regular kids. And who knew that the education was going to blow us out of the water. My child who hated to read last year, is reading on a middle school/almost high school level. It's been an awesome few months in their lives, development wise. Mommy gets sick and we are learning how to juggle that into life. I have to spend about 2 weeks out of the month doing nothing...but the other 2 weeks we try to make it up. They have discovered a huge love of reading to take up time. Which thrills me. Sure I'm pretty upset that I'm having health issues, but hopefully we can get answers soon. But at the end of this school year, I'm pretty damn proud of my kids' efforts and how far they came this year. I'm still in shock that next year I'll have a 5th grader, 2-2nd graders and a kindergartener in this home!

But that notebook...I realized as I cried that the dates, the messy 3rd grader writing, it represented a sad time in my life. It was like a knife stabbing me in the stomach. I looked at my darling husband and said..."Maybe I ought to just put this up so I don't have to look at it..." and he agreed. And it sits high up in our closet, waiting for the day that Arielle moves out and takes her stuff with her, or the day we have that talk about all that happened, and the 50 thousand things that went wrong in my first marriage to create that awful day that still haunts me. That's the thing with pain. It's there...you don't forget it. But you cry your tears, then you put it up high in the closet and move on with life. And lastnight, for the first time in a well, ever, I allowed myself to just let go and put it away.And today I am thankful I'm with somebody who understands that pain, who lifts me up, who I don't have to wonder if he's going to be there for me when I fall. I don't have to ask for his help, he just gives it. I don't have to justify the new shoes I wear home, he trusts my judgment with money (he probably shouldn't!) hell i don't have to justify anything! Who makes me laugh when I am happy, and holds me when I am down. Hell, he puts up wtih my crazy and that's a pretty amazing feat.

Life gave me a second chance.

an itching we will go...

Saturday we decided to pack up all 4 girls and go to a state park and have a picnic and go swimming. Funny how these things seem so easy until you decide to do them! LOL But they enjoyed it, enjoyed their little disposable cameras I bought them. I took pictures but I seriously think my rebel is ready for the retirement home. Hoping to save up for a nice used 30D soon! I can't decide if the focus is falling elsewhere on my photos because of me, or if it's just not focusing right because of the camera. One way or the other, I still need a newer unit!

We also had another first last week. In 32 years of life, I've never seen headlice. Until last thursday. Note to self. Check childrens hair frequently. My husband found it in the youngests hair, and it was just new growth, not really that bad. So I call the school to have all the other children checked. My sweet Chandler had it, and when I got there to pick her up...let's just say oh my god and be done with that. I had to cut 14 inches of hair. And then it still took me 5 hours to clean her up. She has about 100 scabs in her head from where she was bitte so badly. They got into her ears and bit her until she was dripping blood. It was horrid. It's taken me days to recover from the horrors. The money spent. The laundry we did. And the tears I've cried over that gorgeous head of hair. Here she was on mother's day...

And here she is now...

She does love it and is a brave girl. But wow. There went 7 years of hard work. And 30+ minutes a day of brushing. LOL It now takes approximately 10 seconds to brush and she LOVES THAT!!!!

Here are a few more from Saturday.

happy mothers day...

today is my first mother's day married to my husband. he's made us all breakfast, and he already appreciated me before, but now he REALLY appreciates me after making us all pancakes and bacon, and 45 minutes later, he's getting to eat.

nice to know that he knows how hard my job is. it's nice to know that i don't have to spend 10 years crying and screaming and begging for some help, and being told i don't love my kids if i can't handle it all. nice to know my parting gifts won't be a bruise face, a damaged back nerve, and a broken heart.

:happy mothers day: hope yours is as beautiful as mine is starting out to be.