Despair...I haz it.

Some days being a grownup is just too much, ya know?

I've been trying hard to stay optimistic the last couple of months and not worry too much about our financial situation. I've been watching it carefully, sure, but even as I see our money dwindling, I've been reminding myself that we've always had enough...enough to eat, a place to live, clothes, heat, water...enough. Not nearly as much as I usually want, to be sure, but enough.

I've also been truly feeling confident that any day now B will get a job, and that we'll be able to go back to "normal" without making any major changes in our lives. I've banked a lot on the belief that he will again work full-time, and I will be able to stay at home this last year of G's "littlekidhood" like we always planned.

I've been living with a certain amount of certainty about these two things, and it's kept me from total despair.

I'm not certain anymore.

Our financial stability has been precariously balanced, and the plumbing problems that have arisen this week may just have tipped us right into a downward spiral. I feel sick just thinking about it. Maybe I'm being overly pessimistic and reactionary, but we just don't have ANY wiggle-room right now, and certainly not almost $1000 worth. (Thank you once again, nameless crackwhore, for christmasthanksgivingandshit. You are, as always, adding that extra spice of unavoidable expense to our holiday season. )

And I'm no longer feeling at all hopeful about B getting a job, even one that pays far less than he was making before. Three weeks of countless applications and not even a single call-back can do that to a girl. Plus, it's becoming clear that he is exceedingly unlikely to get a job at his previous pay rate, so I am going to have to go back to work, probably full-time, whether I'm ready to or not, no matter what our plans have always been.

Absolutely nothing about this is fair, and I sincerely wish that I believed in a personal G-o-d so that I could curse His name.

I don't know what to do. I'm terrified and angry and want to pull the covers over my head and sleep until everything is okay again. Yep, despair...I haz it.

Darn Boy

Today, the Kidlet said that he wanted to see "Darn Boy". You know, the movie..."Darn Boy". It took us a while to figure out exactly what he was talking about, but we finally got it...

He wants to see "HELL Boy". Only he categorically refuses to say the word "hell", just like he refuses to say any other "grownup" word. We told him that it would be more appropriate to say "Heck Boy" than "Darn Boy", but "heck" is apparently also too foul a word to cross his lips. He said that he would either call it "Darn Boy" or "Imaginary-word Boy", but nothing else.

My child - MY child - refuses to cuss, even when given permission.

*head/desk*

Sometimes, life is so ironic it hurts.

Holy Nutsacks!!

Okay - this post may fall into the category of TMI. In fact, were my boy to read this in a couple of years, he would almost certainly say that it is waaaayyyy TMI and die of humiliation on the spot. But as a dutiful blogger, I feel called to share the good, the bad, and the freakishly ugly bits of motherhood with you all.

Plus, this was one of the more disturbing things I've had to deal with recently and I need sympathy, people, sympathy!

Friday morning the kidlet was complaining about the bug bites he had gotten on his boy bits the night before. Of course, he was complaining about this at, oh, 7:30 am...and since complaints at this hour of the morning are generally ploys to get me out of bed at an indecent time I pretty much blew him off. Several times. Over the course of the next two hours. (Yeah, I am that kind of inattentive, neglectful mom.)

The guilt of this may haunt me forever, because when I finally got my butt out of bed and tended to my child, I discovered that he wasn't just being a whiner about two little skeeter bites like I had assumed. There was, in fact, a problem with his bits. A BIG problem with his bits. As in, his bits were swollen to the size of my fist and bright purple/red. ACK!!!

It was horrifying, I tell you, and of course my first instinct was to Freak Out because obviously there was something terribly wrong with my child's scrotum. Being a Mom, though, I couldn't because a Mom's first duty is to stay calm at all times or deal with a hysterical child. And so I did - stay calm that is - and managed to pull off the whole Dutiful Mom thing quite well, administering benedryl and arranging for the emergency doctor's visit, all while continuing to pack for our trip and keeping the chld from losing his mind from the fear that his bits were going to explode.

(Did I mention that we were supposed to go out of town for the weekend, and that I was waiting to hear if my husband was going to be fired from his job? Oh yeah. It was that kind of day).

The whole episode was only made worse by the fact that Kidlet's modesty is finally starting to kick in, and while he had no problem (repeatedly) showing me his parts, he was absolutely mortified at the thought of having to show a stranger (read: doctor). Having had my share of pap smears, childbirths, and brazilian waxes, I totally sympathized but had to hold the line that, no, we couldn't just tell the doctor what it looked like. The poor pediatrician would have to actually see and perhaps touch the horror in my son's pants. Welcome to the humiliation that is life, kid.

Fortunately, none of the conditions that WebMD suggested could cause the Kidlet's boy bits to look so alarming were present...as far as the doc could determine, it was just (just!) a severe allergic reaction to the bites of unknown insects. It didn't even require a shot! A couple of days of oral prednisone later it looks like the Kidlet will indeed live to procreate.

Now if I could only get those horrible, horrible images out of my mind.

(Note: I briefly considered photo-documenting this entire event but decided that even for me decency had its limits. Count yourselves lucky).

MomDork (yes, I'm back)

Yes, I'm back...in all my glory (or something like that).

I have to tell you all that one of my major goals, as a mom, is to totally humiliate my son when he is a teenager. Not that this will be difficult - I'm sure that the mere fact that I breathe will be enough to make him squirm - but, perfectionist that I am, I figure I should start practicing now.

Hence, the MomDork.

Yes, I did go out in public like this. To trendy stores, even...where I got scornfully raised eyebrows but was allowed to browse nonetheless. And where I of course ran into someone I've been wanting to impress with my UberCoolness for a while now. Lovely. At least I made....an impression...right?

My favorite thing about this pic is that it shows the cellulite over my knees. Srsly. Click to enlarge and see if I'm not telling the truth!

I could have lived very happily for years without knowing that.

Predictably...

....I didn't sleep much last night.

I never sleep well the first night that Husband is gone...the bed seems a little too big, and I have a hard time falling asleep without a goodnight kiss. Plus, the dogs are always freaked out - they believe something is terribly wrong if we all three aren't home by dark - and they spent the night shuffling around in the covers (yeah, they all 3 slept with me. I'm such a sucker). Then, of course, there was that little matter of that stupid scary movie....LOL

BUT - I am blissfully ON VACATION, so I got to sleep until 11:30...and I only got out of bed then because of the phone! Oh man, it is sooooo sweet to sleep as much as I want! And today I feel rested, and lazy, and purringly content, curled up on the couch (it's cold in this house, but I refuse to turn on the heat in May), reading, doing puzzles, blogging.....purrrrrrrrrr indeed.

I am going to go to a late lunch with my friend Rondy, see her pictures of Hawaii, and then come home and lounge around some more. The only work on my agenda today is cleaning in the kidlet's room, and that will be nice to do (the clutter in there is making me NUTS!). Then EQ2 and EQ2, tv with a tv dinner (what a treat!), and more EQ2.

If there were only someone to silently bring me snacks and rub my feet this would be a perfect vacation.

Less than smart.

That would be me.

So my boys are out of town - out in the woods Being Men Together - until Saturday night, which means I have three days and two nights of total me-ness in the house. The thrilling plans for my mini-bachelorettehood include cleaning out the kid's room (since he refuses to throw anything out ever) and playing EQ2 until my eyes bleed.

But tonight I decided to engage in the long-standing tradition of watching a "scary" movie alone in the house with all the lights off. "Scary" is in parentheses because, while there are plenty of gross/tense slasher flicks out there that say "boo!" well enough to make me jumpy, there aren't many movies that manage to completely creep me out on a cellular level. So usually these nights end up with me saying "eh" and going to bed.

Tonight however....eeeep. I watched The Orphanage on Netflix instant view (BEST SERVICE EVER) and holy crap did it manage to push my psychological buttons. Not only did it completely creep me out, it seriously fucked with my emotions...I watched it with one hand over my mouth and tears in my eyes. I really wasn't expecting the whole "lost sons" and "grief makes you crazy" subtext of the movie, so I was kinda pole-axed by the visceral response I had. And spooked waaayy beyond my normal level of tolerance.

All of which is good, kinda, in that I love fnding smart, truly scary movies, but bad in that now, well, I have to sleep alone in a big empty house without my little boy to go hug until he makes me let him go. LOL.

Yessirriebob, less than smart.

Dude. Yo.

Kidlet has recently informed me that, since he's reached the mighty age of 6, he is officially a "Dude". Which is funny, and understandable, since that's what we call him a lot of the time.

What was more puzzling was his proclaimation that at 7 he would become a "Yo", and at 8 he would be a "Dude-Yo." Not being hep to the pre-K lingo (am I already that uncool?!?) I asked him what those titles mean. His explanation?

"Dude" means that he acts like he does now. Apparently Dudes are unable to get dirty clothes entirely in the laundry basket and must instead leave them laying on the floor next to it. They also should not be expected to get themselves Kool-Aid (at least not without a fuss), and they have a disgusting propensity to wipe their noses on my shirt. Ew.

"Yo" will apparently be pretty much the same, except I suspect that more yelling and bossing will be involved. Cuz he's older, and knows more. Of course.

"Dude - Yo", in his words, means that he will be "booger-tough."

I shudder to think of what the teenage years will bring. Perhaps I should start drinking now so that I cn be good and ready...

Oh my goodness!

On a whim (mostly because I am not quite ready to go to bed) I checked my StatCounter for the first time in, oh months and OMG it wasn't completely empty!!!

My completely non-existant readers have become a handful of actual people! I am stunned, I tell you, STUNNED. And excited! And honored! And suddenly extremely self-conscious LOL.

Wow - maybe I should post more. OMG - if I post, real people might read it! ACK - the pressure!! (Okay, just kidding on that last one.)

So, apparently existant reader(s), whoever you are you completely made my day :)

*giddily waves*

Yep, It's Strep

Kidlet is doing better today - his temperature has been 100 or below for almost 24 hours - but when he woke up he was complaining about a sore throat. One peek inside told me that we'd be going to the doctor today with strep. Not that I am a particular expert on strep, mind you. I don't think that I could tell you, over the phone, exactly what to look for if you think your kid has strep. I just know that, whatever the funk I saw in Kidlet's throat was, it sure as hell wasn't normal. Eeeeewwww.

A quick throat swap at the pediatrician's office confirmed the diagnosis, and we got his medicine while I fairly successfully tried not to freak out. See, I have...issues...with strep throat. I remember that as a very small child I seemed to get it all the time, and for some reason my pediatrician always seemed to want to give me that horrible penicillin shot rather than the far more humane amoxicillin liquid. In fact, one of my clearest memories of preschool is running across the playground, both hands clutching my butt, screaming "Nooooooooooooooooo!!!" when my mom came to pick me up for my shot. I haven't had strep since I was a little kid, but it still figures in my mind as one of The Most Horrible Diseases Ever.

So I'm giving the kidlet his medicine, and coddling him as a good momma should, and the entire time I'm completely repulsed by my little bundle of contagion. Not to mention completely paranoid about every little feeling of being hot, and every little throat tickle, because I'm convinced that I'm going to get strep for Mother's Day. LOL.

Oh yeah. These are the glory days.

Sick Day

My kidlet, bless him, is sick. High fever that won't go down for more than an hour or so, feeling puny, laying on the couch, sick.

If you knew Kidlet, you would know how very unusual this is. The boy is never sick, at least not in little kid terms. I can literally count on one hand the number of times he's been ill (excepting carsick, which doesn't really count). The kid is seriously healthy as an ox.

The problem is, when Kidlet gets sick, he gets SICK. The first time he ever got sick, he ended up in the hospital for pneumonia. When he had chicken pox, he got them on his eyeball (one of the few times the pox requires prompt medical attention). The one time he's had an ear infection, he got double ear infections that took two rounds of antibiotics to clear up. He may not get sick often, but he gets sick in earnest.

Which is why I'm quietly freaking out today as I watch my kid lay around like a rag doll. I know that this is probably the 24 hour mystery fever one of his friends had right after the birthday party. I know that it's no big deal really. Except I'm afraid that it is, ya know? I don't see him getting better right now, and I really don't want it to get worse (if only because the two of us will kill each other with boredom if we have to stay home together more than a day!).

*sigh* this blows.

Serendipity and such

Well, Kidlet's b-day party went off not only without a hitch but in GRAND style. Let's hear it for the awesomeness of Mom...or at least some awesome good luck LOL.

We had the party at a local park, and the weather forecast wasn't good...rainstorms and wind predicted, with clearing promised in time for the Derby, but not necessarily in time for a 6-year old's big party. Several parents called asking me about the contingency plans which, given there was no way in HELL I was letting that many kids into my house at one time, consisted entirely of "bring rain gear and extra clothes". The only people who weren't particularly worried were Kidlet (he was oblivious to everything except the promise of presents and chocolate cake) and myself (I just didn't have the energy to worry anymore).

We got to the park a little after noon, and it didn't look promising...chilly, and windy, and overcast, with lots of puddles in the playground. Setup was minimal, and Kidlet was already having fun on the playground, despite having soaked himself in the puddles within the first 5 minutes. I had no idea how many people were going to show up, and absolutely nothing planned other than pointing out to people the location of chips and drinks, and at some point lighting candles on the cake. 1:00 rolled around (official start time) and only a couple of people had showed up...I was starting to get worried.

But I must have done something good in a past life, or maybe the Universe was just cutting me a break, because everything went uphill from there! The sun came out and the wind died down, so that the day became warmer and cheery. TONS of people showed up - most of his class at school, most of their siblings and parents, his two best friends outside of school, virtually everyone he wanted to be there - and the party filled the playground. All the kids got along, almost all the parents knew and liked each other, we had just enough food and not too much...damn. It was almost like I had planned it or something!!! The best part was the size of Kidlet's smile throughout the whole thing - he obviously had a blast, and all of the stress of the past week was suddenly worth it.

I felt completely UberMommish...it was sweet.

The Universe even threw in a bonus, in the form of a free new pair of shoes for me!!! They were there when we got to the park, soaked and abandoned next to the swing set, and nobody came to claim them all afternoon. At a little after 3:00 pm (official end time, although lots of people were still there having too much fun to leave!) a group of us moms gathered near them and speculated on who had left them and what (probably drunken) state she must have been in. They were, it turns out, perfectly my size, and cute as all get out. I felt a little bad about taking them, but as Erin so aptly pointed out, "if she hasn't gotten her drunk ass back here by 3:00 she probably isn't missing them too much". So I picked up my Gift from the Universe and took them home to dry. What a nice little reward for the crazybusy of the past couple of weeks :)

Gotta love serendipity.

Planning for the Big 6

Hard as it is to believe, G turns SIX on Friday. I can't quite get my head around the idea that my little baby is now over 3 feet tall, can reach the ice cream in the freezer, and complains about how much I boss him around. Sigh.

I am trying hard to figure out what the hell we're going to do for his sixth birthday party, which is in (eep) 6 days. Were I an organized mom, I would probably have lists made, party games planned, snacks decided on, and some idea of what was going to happen on that day. As it is, I have a time and place, and pretty much nothing else LOL. I pretty much know who is invited (informal invites have been made, but the "formal" cards are still in the works), and figure it will somehow involve cake and ice cream, but beyond that it is a mystery to me. I seriously wish that I just had some money to throw at this, because I could just go to a party store and buy the whole damn party, but we are, of course, doing this on a tight budget (damnyoudaveramsey) and I'm having to get creative and shit. Hate that.

In other news, G lost one of his top teeth on Saturday. About time too, as both of them have been loose since Easter. He is too cute to believe with that snaggle tooth grin, and much to his annoyance I keep having to grab him and smooch him all over. The adult tooth is already visible, so we won't have him this adorable for long *sigh*

I'm so excited for G as he grows - it's great to see him so confident, curious, and energetic, and I swear to god I wouldn't go back to baby for anything. Still, he's growing so fast...I know that he's going to be so over us so very soon...I'm really going to miss my little cuddle monkey when he's too cool to want to snuggle.

Done, I tell you. Just DONE.

By my calculations, I've spent about 2.5, maybe 3 (waking) hours at home over the past two days...and now I am DONE.

If I liked running around town in circles (at $3.55 a gallon!) with something I have to do every freakin hour of the day, I might feel satisfied, like, job well done. As it is (since I don't particularly enjoy that kind of thing) I mostly feel just exhausted. Like it will take me days to recover from this weekend, only the whole frenetic schedule starts all over again at 8:30 tomorrow morning when my dad shows up for his weekly visit.

I need a vacation. By myself. For like, a year. Where is the substitute mom I can call to take over until I feel sane again? Volunteers? Anyone? Anyone?

Holy Fuckamoly!!

Two posts in one day!!! Yar!!

[edit: took the other post off. too personal. too whiny. too painful. sry.]

(Mwwuuuuhhaaaahhhaaaahhhhaaahhhaha - I amuse myself).

On a totally different topic than my earlier post (thank GOD cuz I can't stand any more of my whining and moping)...there are currently 6 police cruisers, a fire truck, and an ambulance parked on my street...and absolutely no official anyone in sight. Which means that ALL of those people are in the house two doors down and have been for almost half an hour now. Creepy, I tell ya.

They haven't blocked off the street, though, and the news vans haven't arrived (I say all of this with the unvoiced "yet" intended).

I sense our property value plummeting even as we speak....but at least we can't be accused of living in a boring neighborhood.

It Started With Daffodils, or, The Danger of Furniture Polish

It all started with the damn daffodils. They are in full bloom in front of my house, those cheerful blooms of spring happiness, and I wanted to put some in a vase inside so that I could enjoy them.

Unfortunately, the coffee table was not only terribly cluttered, but also unspeakably dirty, and I knew that I couldn't enjoy the flowers without cleaning the table. So out came the windex (for the glass panes on top), and the sponge and water, and the toothpick (for getting the gunge out of the many many many cracks and crevices), and I went to work. Cleaned the whole damn thing as close to spotless as it's every going to get, and then I remembered: furniture polish. We got a can of spray furniture polish when we bought the living room set, and it seemed like the perfect time to actually use the stuff.

A few minutes later, my coffee table was stunning - shiny and clean as the day it arrived. Which is a good thing, right? Except that the glow from the coffee table only highlighted the dust and grime on the bookshelves in the living room. Suddenly, I felt compelled to make them glow like that...so that the daffodils would look right, dontchaknow.

Now, our living room (hell, our whole house) is largely decorated with bookshelves full of books. Big, Tall Bookshelves. Lots and Lots and Lots of books. Which made the project of making their woodwork glow like the coffee table a bit daunting, but oh man did they look great when I was done!! Too bad they were right next to the dustygrimy tv table and cabinets and cd holder...

I'm sure that you can see where this is going. I literally went crazy with the furniture polish. I sprayed every wood surface I could find with the stuff (including bay window and all wooden knickknacks) and managed to use fully half a can of it in the living room alone. I probably would have done the floor with it too if it hadn't specifically said on the can not to do that. It was crazy. I even ended up cleaning all the couches and chair, the outside of the fish tank, and the freakin baseboards, just to make the rest of the room match the beauty of the wood.

All in all, I spent 6 straight hours cleaning the living room top to bottom before I had it clean enough for those stupid flowers. But they look GREAT on my coffee table, and damn my living room glows!!!!!

KuhhhhhRabby

That would be me. For days now. No idea why, although I strongly suspect that it may have something to do with a rather rainy spring break with too many children in too small a space. Or possibly PMS (always a great scapegoat). Or leg pain, of which there has been plenty recently. Or just the fact that I'm fundamentally a bitch. Who knows. All I know is that I've been growling my way around the house grumping at everyone who crosses my path and getting absolutely nothing done.


I need spring. I need it bad. I need warmth and sunshine (at the same freakin time, please) and growing things and time to sit outside to recover from the winter. I am so tired of all my winter clothes...I need shorts and short sleeves and comfy sandals with no socks. Not that any of my summer clothes fit me ATM, but still. I'm ready for this grey season to be done.


I don't feel like there is so much for me to blog about. My attempt to lose enough weight to fit into my cute clothes is going...poorly. I enjoy the gym when I manage to get there, but have a bitch of a time fitting into my schedule, and damn chocolate is good. My attempt to overhaul our finances is going somewhat better, although I can only work on it in tiny spurts, as the black and white proof of exactly how broke we are and are going to continue to be is pretty damn depressing. My house continues to be a disaster. *sigh*


Oh well. Back to it. Whatever "it" is.

Focus, ya slacker!

There been an awful lot of nothing here lately, I know. I haven't lost interest in my blogging so much as I've lost focus.

Now don't go feeling picked on, dear (imaginary) readers...I haven't just lost my focus in the blogosphere. I've lost my focus everywhere, with the predictable chaotic results. I have so many projects and tasks that I feel need doing urgently that I end up running myself in circles. It's so much easier to just do nothing, and damn near as productive. *sigh*

Days (weeks? months?) like these, I look at all the stuff in my house, look at the haphazard way I discipline my son, look at the incredible SNAFU that is my finances, and despair. I'm sure that there is some logical "babystep" way out of the mess of my life, but damned if I can see it. And even when I do glimpse it, just the sight of how far I have to go exhausts me. Some people look at a mountain and see a challenge they feel compelled to best...I look at even a steep hill and feel like going back to bed.

It's almost enough to get a girl depressed, if she were prone to that kind of thing. Good thing that's not me, eh.

(The above statement should be considered to be dripping with irony, for those of you who haven't caught on to my particular brand of craziness yet.)

Hopefully the amazing SPRING!!! weather will help me overcome these blahs...I'll work on the focusing thing soon, but I've got some serious ass-sitting to do right now...

Snaux

Snow is what people further north of us get...it is white stuff that falls from the sky, sometimes accumulates on the ground, may make driving a bit of a pain, but is generally accepted as a normal part of winter.

Snaux, on the other hand, is what Kentucky gets. You could, of course, call it "fake snow", but snaux sounds so much less provencial, n'est ce pas?

Snaux isn't so much an actual material, as a state of mind. Snaux is the prediction of white stuff that falls from the sky and and the threat that it may accumulate on the ground. While it does little or nothing to the roads themselves, it works some strange magic to convince otherwise (relatively) rational people that they will DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH if they dare venture behind the wheel. Snaux makes roads impassable, if only in peoples' minds...shuts down entire school systems and causes people to empty grocery store shelves so that they don't have to eat their own dead when they are trapped in their houses for the next...24 hours.

As I speak, we are in a Snaux Emergency. All schools let out early (despite that fact that what was falling from the sky was, in actually, rain). Everything is cancelled for tomorrow*, and the newspeople were actively encouraging people to FREAK OUT. Scary numbers like "up to 10 inches" are being bandied about, along with "worst winter storm in years". You would think the world was ended.

Except, of course, that we have yet to see any actual SNOW. Rain, yes. Freezing rain, yes, a bit. Sleet, yeah, currently falling from the sky, but husband still intends to run 10 miles in it so it can't be that bad. But snow? Not so much.

I'd actually LOVE to see 10 inches of snow...we haven' t had a serious snowfall like that in probably a decade, and I'm sure the kidlet thinks that we are lying when we talk about it being possible to build snowmen taller than 3 inches tall. But they can keep this snaux bullshit all to themselves.

*Everything except, of course, the parent clean-up day at school. Which I feel quite certain will be called off if there actually is any real white stuff, but which they aren't willing to call off tonight. Which, I suppose I should admire...except it means I have to get up at 7:00 am on a Saturday morning to get the freaking email to confirm the Snaux Day.

Call it a hint

My husband just handed me a long list of all the therapists covered by our health insurance...I wonder what exactly he's trying to say.

Hick Hysteria, or, "It's a gonna snow!!"

Let me preface this post by saying that I love Kentucky. I love (most of) the people in Kentucky. I have family history here, personal and family roots here, and choose to live here. I have a great and abiding love of and respect for Appalachian and Affrilachian culture. This is my home.

That said...for christsakes, ya stupid hicks, it's just snow!!! It's not the freakin' apocalypse, it's not a rain of toads, it most certainly isn't unexpected (seeing as how it's, oh, winter and this happens every year)...it's SNOW. And maybe even *gasp* ICE. It is not, I repeat, not necessarily a reason to freak out. It is not a reason to automatically cancel school, and it most certainly is not a reason to call in to work so my husband has to all of your stupid work on top of his!!! You people need to just chill out and learn to deal with the freakin' weather!

Henny-Penny would have had a good cluck at the stupid hysteria that hits this town when something frozen falls from the sky.

The ironic twist to all of this is that I'm from Florida and I deal with this shit better than 90% of the natives here. I don't give a frell about the crap coming down from above, but I swear to god if I have to spend another snow day locked inside with a stir-crazy 5 year old and 3 dogs who are too prissy to get their precious little feet wet I'm gonna snap.

Blah

I'm done with chores for the weekend, I'm tired of playing computer games, nonograms are making my brain hurt, I finished my last mindless-fiction book, the boys are playing wrestling games, and nothing good is on tv...guess I have to update my blog.

It's been over a week, it appears, since I last wrote, and while I'm sure that plenty has happened, I can't for the life of me figure out what....or at least what would be interesting enough to actually record here. I had a whole week of missed dates, where I didn't get to see anyone I really wanted to or do anything particularly fun, so why bother, eh?

And obviously, I'm in a bit of a..."mood"....as I have been for a while now. I hate to write when I feel like this, because it comes out sounding so very whiny and pathetic in retrospect, and considering how much it bores me, I see no reason to inflict it on (as yet imaginary) readers. I actually started a "depression" blog elsewhere, just for times like these, but (LMAO) I've lacked the emotional energy to actually write in it. Go figure.

I'm guessing that I won't get much written this month in general, simply because it is the Evil Month of February, and my stability is tenuous at best. Taking a Pollyannaish view, I might say that at least I know that I will be crazy this month and can thus be prepared, but mostly the whole situation sucks. I suppose that some year I will find myself healed enough not to lose my mind during Griffin's birthday month...until then it's just a matter of hanging on for the ride. Wish me luck with that...I'm gonna need it.

Lazy HausFrau tip #692

When you don't feel like cleaning something, don't. Just leave it until it gets so disgusting that Husband has to do it or go stark raving mad.

My couches have been...disturbing...me for about a week now, being covered in dog hair and kid crumbs and dried up spit (thanks, neurotic-licking-dog). I, however, have been to lazy to get my ass off of said couch to clean it. This morning, Husband finally snapped and thoroughly brushed each and every cushion. Sweet.

My bathroom, however, remains unspeakable. I've never won this game with the bathroom.

Fingers, Fire, and Financial Woes

Well, I stuck my finger in the fire today, and contacted R. Stupid, I know. I don't even know what made me do it really, except, maybe, an innate inability to leave well enough alone. Yes, he talked to me, and, yes, it felt hollow, and yes, I now feel like crap. Then again, it's a different kind of crap...whereas before I felt like I missed him, now I clearly see (once again) that I miss what he used to be. It's like another spike of grief, but it helps me to separate a little bit more who he is and who he was...that's good, right?

Hopefully, at least, this particular little burn will kick him the hell out of my dreams. I've dreamed about R & T for two nights running, which has been freaking me the hell out since I almost never dream about people I know. Add that to the disturbing content of the dreams in general (strangely, R & T had nothing to do with that) and perhaps my lapse is understandable.

Or maybe I'm just the idiot I generally think I am...LOL

The financial woes are really getting to me right now. We were actually doing pretty good until Friday, when Husband's car broke down. I supposed we should have expected it, given the fact that he got his bonus on Thursday, and the Universe generally sees any extra money as an excuse to kick us in the financial nuts. Still, it is bad...as in, "we're gonna pay a mint to get the damn thing running again, but it won't run for long and we're looking for another car" bad. And unless I can somehow figure out how to shoot $200+ a month out my ass (suggestions, anyone?) a car payment will mean we don't have money for the Kidlet's kindergarten next year. Sigh. I'm sure that it will all work itself out - it always seems to - but I could do without the stress.

Anyways, that life here. Kidlet is at his grandma's tonight, so Husband and I are going to go grab a little Japanese food and come home to watch Eastern Promises. Guess that constitutes a "date" when you're old and married. Not that we can afford it, but what the hell. If we're gonna be broke, might as well be well fed.

I'm going to go take a painkiller and see if my mood improves, or if I just need to start stabbing kittens or something.

Shallow?

So tell me...if I said that, despite his general "I-don't-give-a-shit" attitude, if my personal trainer were only cuter I'd consider paying for more session...but as it is, he just isn't eye-candy enough to be worth my money...if I said that...would it make me shallow?

A Day In The Life

So, for all of you who wonder how this hausfrau spends her day and earns her keep, let me share with you a fairly typical Thursday...bonbon eating it ain't!!!



8:45 am - wake up.



This is the huge indulgance I allow myself for the day- sleeping 45 minutes later than usual. Kidlet was at his NeeNee's, so my red-headed alarm clock doesn't go off. If I didn't have an incredibly busy day ahead of me, I would have stayed in bed another 2 hours, but hausfrau duties call.



8:45 - 9:15 am - get ready for the first part of my day.



Just enough time to take a fast shower (I smell funky - no shower just isn't an option), dry my hair, dress, pack the gym bag, grab some coffee, and wrangle the dogs into their crates (they have lost their "home alone" priviledges due to chewing on the couch cushions. Yes, the new couch. Bastards).



9:15 - 9:30 am - drive semi-frantically to Sam's club.



The schedule for the day, I've realized, is a wee bit tight. Thank god I have a "business" membership so that I can get into the store early.



9:30 - 10:00 am - shop at Sam's Club.



Today is my day to bring snack for the little buggers at school, and I hate when parents send a crappy snack, so I have to make it good. Snack will consist of: 4 pounds of strawberries, 44 little individually wax-wrapped cheeses (what kid can resist?!), a giant container of honey-wheat pretzel sticks, and two big tubs of good yogurt (which isn't, alas, sold at Sam's). Total money spent on snack: roughly $35 so far. Add to that other things needed from Sam's, and it's an $85 morning. Good thing Husband's paycheck hits the bank tonight, or we'd be screwed.



10:00 - 10:15 am - check out at Sam's.



(I put this in as its own activity because it took so damn long.)



10:15 - 10:30 am - drive frantically across town to the gym.



Made all the more fun by the dusting of snow on the roads, and the stupid mofos driving 40 on the highway because of said snow. Dumbasses.



10:30 - 11:00 am - personal trainer session at the gym.



I still can't sit down without yelping, or manage the stairs without waddling like some fuckedup zombie duck. If I was a masochist, I'd consider it money well spent.



11:00 - 11:15 am - drive frantically back across town to my house.



11:15 - 11:45 am - get ready for the second part of my day.



Shower (again), dry hair (again), get dressed (again), and shove some food in my mouth. Dogs get left outside in sub-freezing weather because they refuse to come in the house with called. Oh well. They have fur, right?



11:45 am - noon - drive frantically to another side of town to co-op for yogurt.



Wow - I'm getting quite the tour today! If I had something to do on the northside I could see the whole freaking town.



Noon -12:15 pm - buy yogurt for snack.



Bringing the total cost of today's snack to about $45.



12:15 - 12:20 pm - drive to kidlet's school.



Shortest drive of the day! During the drive, I field a phonecall from my mom reminding me I have to bring snack and wondering where I am, since I am, of course, late. Thanks, mom.



12:20 - 12:35 pm - set up snack.



These kids better leave me some of this food!



12:35 - 1:45 pm - shopping with A.



Finally! Some "me" time! Interrupted, alas, by Husband calling to tell me he locked his keys in his car and needs me to unlock it before his meeting lets out at 3. Since we are in another town, shopping trip ends rather abruptly. (Notice there has been no mention of lunch).



1:45 - 2:00 pm - ride back to kidlet's school to get my car.



2:00 - 2:15 pm - drive to where husband's car is



2:15 - 2:35 pm - drive through numerous parking lots and structures looking for husband's car.



Who knew there were so many freakin parking lots at the medical office park?!? Of course, husband is in meeting, so I can't call for more specifics. I find the car the second after I send a frantic text message asking him for details.



12:35 - 12:45 pm - drive back to kidlet's school.



Speeding maniacally shaves 5 minutes off the trip :)



12:45 - 12:55 pm - wash up dishes, etc from snack



Bastards left me one strawberry, 4 little cheeses, a couple of pretzel twists, and half a tub of yogurt. I repay them by "washing" the dishes in a rather cursory manner.



12:55 - 3:05 pm - circle time and leave school



3:05 - 3:10 pm - drive back to co-op grocery to pick up something for dinner.




Edit: by the time I got to this point in writing this entry, I was too exhausted to go on. Suffice to say the day didn't slow down until after kidlet was asleep (after 9:00 pm).

Sometimes it takes a bite of chocolate....

...and sometimes it takes the whole freakin' bar.

In my determination not to break down and cry at work tonight (oy, has it been a shitty day), I managed to consume an entire bar of a bacon chocolate bar.

Yes, I said bacon. I had read about this bar on some blog last year, but was shocked to actually see it at the grocery today. It was crazy expensive, but how could I resist?!? Bacon AND chocolate - two of my favorite foods - it was too strange and wonderful to pass by. And like I said - it's been a shitty day. Strange chocolate was definitely in order.

My plan, of course, was to eat it slowly, savoring its salty goodness (mmmmm....salty chocolate.....). This, however, was before the catastrophe of work tonight. Somehow I managed to finish the whole bar (it really was good - not great - but good) and now feel vaguely ill from sugar and such.

But at least I didn't cry.

Clearance Queen

Yes, I am the Clearance Queen!!!

I left the boys to Be Men Together (have no idea what they did, but I'm sure it involved lots and lots of explosions) and went out with Mom today. It was nice - we grabbed lunch at Cosi and then hit the clearance racks at Kohl's.

Mmmmmmmm, Kohl's clearance....

I found an entire rack of panties for $2.99 each, which was a good thing, since I discovered this morning when I put away the laundry from earlier in the week that the dogs had eaten four more pairs of my underwear. They even chewed up a pair of granny panties. I'm not sure which of us comes off as being more desperate here - the dogs for chewing them, or me for wearing them - but I had to get some underwear, and soon! So I got 13 pairs, which should hold the dogs for a week or two.

I managed to find some workout clothes on sale (since I am actually keeping that resolution about working out - go me!), two shirts for $1.60 each, two pairs of skorts for $2.80 each, and a $70 dress for $6. I even found a nightshirt that is cute enough to wear for the husband and decent enough to wear around the son.

Best part of all was the additional 30% off on everything...and the fact that Mom paid for it all as my (late) Christmas present. Not exactly the Christmas present I would have chosen for myself, but beggars can't be choosers and we are pretty damn broke right now. Oh well. I've pretty much accepted that being a Mom/wife/responsible adult means that most of my presents have to be utilitarian, not fun. Sure, it blows, but whatchagonnado.

Now if I can only enough room in my drawers for all the loot :)

*sigh*

Not having posted here for a while, I spent the morning writing a glib little blog entry in my head about yoga and the gym and such. It was cute, and funny (at least I thought so), and maybe I'll end up posting it here at some point, but I no longer feel glib or cute or funny. In fact, I feel pretty fucking miserable. I don't usually post the more depressing schtuff of my life here, but I'm so sad right now I really need to at least pretend to talk to someone. So please, dear readers (who don't really exist) bear with me.

I'm not going to go into any long backstory here, but I ended a friendship a couple of months ago with someone I really care about. He was one of my best friends, actually, at one point, but the friendship had been dying a long, painful, gasping fish-out-of-water death for the last 2 years. I finally reached the point where it hurt me too much to go on - trying to maintain an essentially one-sided friendship was making me crazysad and I knew that for my own sake I had to let it go. It would probably have hurt less if I felt like he had noticed that I wasn't his friend anymore *insert bitter laugh here*, but ya can't make lemonade when life hands you shit now can ya.

I've been doing a pretty good job over the past couple of months of keeping to that decision. I haven't called him, haven't written him, haven't made any kind of contact whatsoever. I feel his absence like a hole in my life every day, which sucks balls, but I' ve been strong and remembered every day why he doesn't deserve my attention anymore.

Today, I found out that R's life has taken a seriously shitty turn. He wasn't having the best time when I decided to end our relationship - his dad had been in a bad car wreck, his mother-in-law had died, his crazy (literally) wife was in the middle of a very difficult, very high-risk accidental prenancy, and he was facing the fact that he was going to be a dad despite the fact that he never expected or wanted children. Under ordinary circumstances I would never have abandoned a friend in that position, but he made it pretty clear he didn't care whether I was his friend or not and I had to do what was best for myself, not him. (Not a bit of guilt there, no siree bob)

Well, apparently, Karma, who was already biting his ass pretty hard, wasn't done with the chewing. His best friend told me today that R lost his job a couple of weeks ago, and hasn't been able to find another one yet. Which means that he lost his truck too (it was a company vehicle), so his family is down to one car, and that his wife is almost certainly being a screeching harpy and in full fledged panic mode (what with having lost the only income in the family). R apparently has stopped talking to friends and is in shut-down mode, which freaks me out given what an incredibly social animal he is. I imagine that he is at a serious low point in his life, and it breaks my heart.

Because, see, no matter how shitty he treated me, no matter how toxic that relationship was for me at the end, I still love him and hurt for him. Like my friend Ne said today, you don't stop caring about someone just because you can't have them in your life anymore. Every fiber of my being is screaming for me to call him, to write him, to let him know that he is loved and that I'm there if he needs anything - I ache to do what I would do for any of my friends who was having a hard time.

And I can't. I just can't. Because he really is toxic to me, because he shreds my heart every time he gives me a taste of his friendship and then takes it away, because I have to put my own well-being first. My head reminds me off all the times that he knew I was having a hard time and didn't call me, all the times he lied about his feelings for me not having changed, all of the tears that I've cried because of him, and how shitty talking to him inevitably makes me feel. My head reminds me that my friendship is a special and precious gift to those I love, and that by his own actions, his own choices, he does not deserve it.

My head reminds me of all of this...and still my heart breaks.

Thank god tonight is Girls' Night, and I can spend it with women who love and value me. I am counting the minutes until I can collapse in their arms and weep...for him, for me, for friendship lost and the general shittiness of life.

May the Light hold you and yours, R, even though I can't.

Bought me some new sheets...

...and sadly, it was exciting enough for me to blog about it.

I actually did a good bit of shopping today, what with the kidlet being back in school and all the after-Christmas clearance sales. I was proud of myself - I managed to find two king-sized sets of sheets, not ugly, decent quality, one even organic cotton for about $65...which (if you have ever shopped for king-sized sheets) is a DAMN good deal. I was grateful to find them, too, since I discovered upon starting to change the sheets today that we are down to one top sheet in the entire house (thanks, of course, to the dogs, who apparently feel an undying need to eat fabric).

I'm writing about this not because it was a particularly thrilling shopping experience, but because of a realization I had in the midst of it.

I happened to be dragging a friend along on my errands today (it was so nice to have adult company!!!), and said friend happens to be very single. She was asking if Husband would give me a hard time about what I was buying, and I was like, are you kidding?!? As long as he doesn't have to come into retail hell and crawl through all the clearance racks looking for something decent that we can afford, he doesn't care what I bring home.

This is how I earn my keep as a housewife, says I.

Which was, of course, a joke, but also...not. Because no matter how "lazy" I feel, no matter how unproductive I am when I am grinding my way through another spate of depression,no matter how messy the house gets, I do a hell of a lot of work. I handle virtually all the money, research and arrange everything to do with Kidlet, make sure there are sheets and kids clothes and toilet paper and Emergen-C and printer ink in the house, coordinate schedules with all the grandparents and book flights when we travel, make interesting movies arrive in the mail (thank god for Netflix!!), and figure out how to donate a car and be able to get the full value to count as a tax deduction. Husband does not have to worry much at all about how the basic mechanics of maintaining a house and modern life are going to get done while he is at work, and most of the time he only recognizes the existance of said mechanics when something breaks down and I don't get it done. Which really isn't that often.

I'm in no way downplaying how hard he works, and I hope I don't make him sound like some kind of insensitive chauvinist (because he soooooo isn't). There are just so many times when I feel like a leech, when I feel...less than...because I bring so little cash into the system. I need to record a little recognition for myself, to remind myself of the work I do, and what I bring to the table. Because I do do an awful lot to make our life here possible.

GOOD FOR ME!!!

And now I'm off to fold 3 loads of laundry and put new sheets on the bed before we turn in for the night...

New Year's Resolutions

So I was talking to the husband the other night - having one of those sideways conversations where I say things that are difficult for me while doing something else (like playing Snood), and we both pretend like there is nothing serious being discussed - and he tells me that I have a "really pessimistic view of life".

What?!?

I like to think of myself as something of an optimist...or as being, if not optimistic about life, then generally gracious about accepting what may come. I still expect most people to act from goodness, am still surprised when they lie, am still bewildered by being mean just for the sake of being mean. I consciously work to accept that things in my life happen for a reason, and try hard to trust that I will come out of hard situations a better person. I really, truly do still believe in the Light. Isn't that optimistic?

On the other hand, I realized today that I haven't made a New Year's Resolution in, oh, a decade or so because (so my thinking goes) nobody ever keeps the damn things anyways and why bother with the pretense of changing yourself when failure is virtually guaranteed. Just admit the failure to begin with and save us all the hassle.

Maybe Husband is a little right after all.

SO - just to prove him wrong (LOL) and embrace the spirit of optimism, I decided to not only make some resolutions, but also to put them out here where everybody can see (just to make the shame that much greater when - no, excuse me - if I fail, of course). I've even been listening to all the blether about how to keep resolutions on the morning shows (which are normally so much blahblah to me), and actually read Dr. Phil's suggestions on how to succeed in making your resolutions stick...and if that doesn't make me freakin' Sally Sunshine I don't know what would.

Here goes.

I will lose 2 pounds a month for the next 6 months.

GAG - how predictably and stereotypically girl of me, but still. I really do want to fit in my cute pants again without the muffin top.

I will exercise at least twice a week.

Health, people, health. I'm never gonna be a skinnyminny, or a triathelete, but I would like to feel stronger in my body.

I will follow FlyLady this year.

The C.H.A.O.S. really is out of control, and it sucks my energy, and everyone involved will be happier if the house is a little less of a disaster area. For once maybe I can make things easier for myself, rather than harder.

I will blog at least once a week.

If not here, then on one of my blogs. It's good for me. I actually do have things to say, and it is important for me to say them out loud rather than just think them to myself.

I will make, and keep, a budget.

I am sooooo much more relaxed when I feel like our finances are secure! I've been waiting for literally years for husband to sit down and help me with this, and I think it's time to accept that he isn't going to. This sister's gonna do it for herself, and if he doesn't like how I apportion the dollars, well, he can just sit his ass down and get involved, now can't he.

I will count my blessings (at least 5 of them) every day.

Cheesy, I know, but I've done it before and it does make me feel better about my life - even when it sucks (which is all too often, it seems) - to acknowledge what is good in it. Part of this resolution is writing them down - keeps me honest, ya know?

So there they are, folks. My first New Year's Resolutions since I don't know when. Five of them seems like a good number...plenty of potential for failure, or if I fail at one I have 4 more to fall back on, or 5 great things I'll do that will make my life happier. Take your pick, depending where on the sliding scale of optimism (or pessimism) you find yourself today.

As a side note: Ben & Jerry's S'mores ice cream is EVIL, pure and simple. The Satan of the Fat Pants planted it in front of me in the store on purpose. Damn him. This has nothing to do with anything in this post whatsoever, except as it may affect my first resolution (see above).