Much Needed

Tomorrow, we leave for Kauai for one week. Considering the events of late and how the weather around here has taken a turn for the awful, I am SO ready.

Um. Well, not physically ready. I haven't packed. I'm kind of freaking out about how we're going to manage all the luggage and the toddler.

I'll go start packing...

***

Okay, back. It's sixteen hours later. I'm a slow mover. And meticulous about packing. But it's done. We rented a car to take to the airport so we don't have to pay for parking. We'll just drop that bad boy off and be done with it.

The car is bright blue and the size of a tic tac. A four door tic tac.

I took the advice of several friends (don't you just love Facebook?) and decided not to be a hero. I'm checking a bag. G and I are all neatly packed into a bag that weighs 45.7 pounds (oh yes, I weighed it - no surprises at check in, please).

Carry on consists of: snacks, books, coloring pads, those genius markers that only write on certain paper, crayons, stickers, extra clothes in case of a pooptastrophe...

Omigod, I ALMOST forgot diapers. What that hell is wrong with me.

Bed. To bed. Tomorrow morning I drop our hellhounds at the kennel. I will get a massive coffee. And hopefully a shower.

And then, noonish, off to the airport and hopefully blue skies and warm beaches.

Damn, at this point I'd take rain, as long as it's 80. And not here.

In conclusion, this sums up how I feel about my vacation:

Mahalo, my friends!

Now I'm Somebody

Today, I reached a milestone - albeit creepy.

I got my first porn spammer comment. I deleted it. Though a badge of honor, I thought I probably didn't want my site linking through hers.

I'm guessing it was either from the title of my blog, or from the expletives in comments from my friends. Or just dumb luck. I mean, how did they know I was into underage Asian girls? I KID, I KID.

Now I'm waiting for hater comments. That will be a grand day. When people care enough about what you're writing to actually get pissed off, well, that's saying something.

On another note, my blood pressure is at normal levels today. As suggested by many, I communicated with that certain person who did me oh so wrong, and SHE TOTALLY DIDN'T GET IT. I wasn't subtle. I said I forgive her, but I also explained why I was upset and that what she did was wrong.

But I guess since I said the word forgive, she thinks everything is fine.

Which, I guess, will have to do. Because sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can't get through to some people.

Restraint.

The bagger/boxer guy at Costco today asked me if I was pregnant.

I smiled and said 'No way! This one keeps me busy enough.'

He was embarrassed and apologized. He was probably in his early twenties. Rookie mistake, I guess.

I did not cry. I didn't get mad. When I got outside, I looked down at my poochy belly and decided never to wear my cardigan with only the top button done.

I thought I'd been doing so well working out and eating right...but I guess I really need to work on sucking it in!

Okay, Nevermind. Still Mad.

I am pretty outspoken on my blog, but in real life, well, I guess I kind of let people walk all over me. I'm virtually trampled before I'll stand up for myself, and by that time, you can probably imagine, I EXPLODE.

People, the sleeping giant is rumbling to life.

It might not be pretty.

There will be much rubble in my wake (verbal rubble, that is).

This is the second night in a row that I've been sitting here typing, literally shaking. My insides are quivering with anger. Just when I get to the point where I can breathe, I hear more ridiculous stories being woven by, again, the person for whom I just GAVE UP TWO MONTHS OF MY LIFE.

Being like this SUCKS. I do not enjoy drama. Drama is for high school. I'm 31. I'm done with the drama!

So, the question now is how I deal with how I am feeling. Sitting here and stewing is not the answer. But I am afraid to confront anyone until I am in complete control of my emotions. Okay, emotion. Singular. And that would be anger bordering on rage.

What do I do? I honestly can't decide. Do I forgive and forget? Generally, I'd let all these awful things being said about me slide. But she was saying things about my child too. He is 22 months old.

What would you do?

Next Time, I Promise.

Yeah, I know I said I was going to be all positive and bubbly and a ray of light after Friday. I know, I know.

And for the most part, I have been. I had an amazing weekend. On Saturday we enjoyed being a family again, just B, G and I, for the first time in a few months. I made a special dinner (lobster and lots of cocktails). We watched a movie. We enjoyed the comfort of our silence and not having to talk all the time.

Sunday was also wonderful. We had a fun-filled day with B's older sister and her family, who we haven't seen for a while. A trip to visit Santa and some real reindeer (and a camel), then my sister-in-law and I helped our younger sister-in-law register for her baby girl that's due in March, and then back home, where we had a nice, relaxed dinner and movie night.

Blissful.

Today, well, was fine too. Normal. I had a run, did some chores, hung with G and B.

Then we got a call. And we were informed that the person that we opened our home to, who I cared for for two months, who I listened to non-stop, who I watched smoke during her entire LUNG CANCER TREATMENT, has gone back to the other part of the family and has commenced talking smack about us.

Example 1: B and I are not good parents. G is a spoiled brat. This one is almost - no IS - laughable, considering who she is comparing us to.

Example 2: Apparently I did nothing but slam the rest of the family to her the entire time she was here. Which is funny, because I never brought them up. Once. She did. Every 30 seconds.

OH. MY. PHYSICAL. LORD. Who does that? WHO DOES THAT? I feel dirty and used and disgusting. UGH.

Call Dr. Phil. For reals. I feel like my life has morphed into a bad episode of Dr. Phil.

So, out with the bad, in with the good. We've pretty much been beaten about by these people emotionally and mentally for the last few months. We decided tonight the holidays will be drama free - basically meaning we won't be seeing that part of the family.

And instead of gifts for them, I'm making a donation to the American Cancer Society. So I can funnel some of this soul rotting ugliness into something good for someone else.

They say no good deed goes unpunished. In this case, truer words were never written.

Eff It Friday

I'm thinking of starting a new weekly post.

I want to call it Eff it Friday. Yup, Eff it Friday. Do you think it'll catch on?

Here's what I say saying eff you to this fine, blustery day.

- Eff you H1N1 or 'Swine Flu'. I'm tired of hearing you non-stop, on the news and from the hypochondriacs in my life. I especially say eff you to the one who insists I actually had THAT FLU a few weeks back. Really? You think you can diagnose me? Hmmmm. Maybe if you'd finished eighth grade, let alone med school, I'd listen. EFFYOU.

- Eff you to my child's pediatrician being the only freaking doctor in my area that doesn't have the vaccine for children under two.

- Eff that my child's appetite has taken a turn for the picky and he will only eat yogurt and I'm out of yogurt and he's screaming for YOOOOOGUTTTTTT!

- Eff the vet that charged us $260 for a yearly checkup and shots for our two dogs. Highway robbery! Plus, eff you to my golden retriever's ears which are apparently damp, rotten caverns that have a continual infection and I have to clean out twice a day. Oh yeah, we had to pay an extra $60 for ear medication. That poor dog. I swear, inbreeding. Eff that I spent more on my dogs' health care than my own this year. I'm NOT kidding.

- Eff that my husband showed my child how to put CRAYONS in his pockets and I'm just waiting to miss one in the laundry. You know it's going to happen and you know heads will roll.

Hmmph.

So, now that I've vented, I'm really just kidding about Eff You Friday. Because as of tomorrow morning, I'm going to try VERY diligently to be as positive as possible. My psyche needs a cleanse.

Or I need a lobotomy.

What are you saying eff you to this week? Am I the only angsty person around here (don't answer that...)?

Ball? Ball?

Things have been kind of topsy-turvy around here lately. Our current normal is not our usual normal.

But some things never change.



A ball and a dog. I lament how stupid Carl is sometimes. But to be so unabashedly happy about a game of catch? Pretty sweet.

Something else that is real about this picture? The state of our backyard...toys everywhere. Oy.

For more real life, take a jaunt over to I Should Be Folding Laundry and check out some more You Capture posts.

D.O.N.E.

I may have sort of had an epiphany last night. Truthfully, it went more like this: my husband kind of forced me into one. In a good way, I suppose. There were a lot of things said that were difficult to hear, but I NEEDED TO LISTEN.

I've been struggling these last few months with people in my life doing things that I perceive as wrong. Or stupid. Or downright reprehensible. All these feelings have burrowed deep and started rotting my insides. I am turning into something I never wanted to be - a truly angry, bitter person. Someone who is skeptical and mistrusts even good intentions.

I am turning into the people I have been trying desperately to help, who in turn have continued with their utterly selfish lives. I have literally spoonfed them solutions. Made contacts with social workers who can help them. Tried to offer sensible advice to some of the most irrational humans with whom I've ever had contact.

Truthfully? The way I feel? It terrifies me. I have never been an upbeat person, per se, but what I feel myself becoming? Not good. This feeling of ugliness has been tugging at me for at least a month. What I've been exposed to? Some of the stories I've heard? All of the hatefulness? Like a cobweb, it sticks to you and is disgusting. You flail around and can't shake it off.

Then you get sucked in. Even if you don't want to get in the middle, there you are. Two months ago, I made a decision with the very best intentions. Last night I was told that I had bit off more than I could chew. That some people, no matter how hard you try, will never change. That I never had a chance. Boy, truer words were never spoken.

Today, I know that all of my care and sacrifice was for naught. I was used. I feel gross. I FEEL ANGRY.

I know the problem. Now to remove it. After this week ends, I have a decision to make. I have to protect myself and my family. I have to mentally purge and try to see good again.

Whatever it takes, I will do it. I know how I do NOT want to be. I can control how I go through life. I choose to put these people and this ugliness behind me.

The band-aid, it's coming off.

Little Monster

My friend Andrea over at The Train to Crazy has a new Etsy site.

You should REALLY check it out. It's called Pumpkin Bear Pie.

I mean, how cute is this shirt?

Adorable, no? G is sporting his blue steel pose here. He digs the shirt!

Deck the #*@& Halls.

This morning, while preparing breakfast for G, I found myself singing Christmas songs. It started with Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, then Frosty, followed by a rousing rendition of Jingle Bells. While many may find this normal round this time of year, for me, it's downright bizarre.

Why? I really do not like the holiday season. There. I said it. I'm a complete 'Bah Humbug.' I wasn't always this way, but over the last ten years or so, it's slowly but surely happened. Between too many family engagements, expectations, bratty kids who open your gift and chuck it to the side for the next, I've seriously gone to the dark side.

Maybe it's because the holiday season is shoved down your throat starting in, say, September? Or watching people who clearly cannot afford lavish presents go into serious debt to keep up appearances?

So honestly, I probably don't dislike the 'ideals' surrounding the holidays. I actually quite like the fuzzy, snuggly warm stuff that goes along with Christmas. I love the food. I love visiting with relatives.

Unfortunately, it seems that our holidays have become consumed with schedules. Trips to the mall where you literally get hip checked while browsing because you're not moving fast enough. I can't enter a mall this time of year without breaking a sweat. People are angry and frantic. So much for a peaceful and joyous holiday, right?

I have so many wonderful memories of Christmas as a kid. Decorating sugar cookies (eating frosting, mostly). Mom and Dad pulling out the huge bins of decorations and spending a whole Sunday decorating and slowly mulling over each piece, because they all had a memory attached. Going up to the woods and cutting down a tree. Watching 'A Christmas Story' (okay, I still do that).

It makes me wonder if my parents felt like I do and just sucked it up to make us happy? I so very much want my child to have wonderful holiday memories. Not necessarily of things, but of time spent together.

I'm thinking the involuntary singing of Christmas songs this morning could be me subconsciously attempting to get into the holiday spirit, for the kiddo. Who knows? Maybe I'll even feel like decorating the house this year. Clark Griswold style.

Next thing you know I'll be wearing this:


And at that point, you have my permission to kick my ass.

Life's a Garden

Dig it.

For more free for all You Capture, jump on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry.

Above Average?

My toddler has discovered my computer ('puter, in G speak), and somehow keeps hitting buttons that make me have to restart this bad boy to even be able to type.

I think I'm in for it. I'm really, really in for it. This kid is not even two and can bring me to my technological knees.

We know he's smart. And if you know me, you know I'm not the kind to brag about my kid. In fact, I have a hard time talking about how intelligent he appears to be, because I don't want to be THAT mom.

And I will always counter my 'bragging' with the fact that he throws himself on the ground and screams at Old Navy, or colors all over the door, or bites me on a pretty regular basis. In fact, I've been calling him Damien (as in the Omen) on a pretty regular basis, and I probably should stop that, cause that's just really not a nice thing to call your kid.

He's a bit, um, rambunctious, but I just keep telling myself at least he's crazy and smart. I don't know how I'd do with crazy and DUMB (I would love him just the same, stop judging me!).

But I have to tell this story. G did something the other day that stopped his father and I dead in our tracks. We were at my husband's work, and one of his co-workers has a Rosie the Riveter sticker (you know, the lady showing her bicep) on her printer. The name 'Rosie' is printed on the sticker.

G walks up, points and says 'Wosie'.

DUDE.

I don't know if it was just some freaky coincidence, but all the same, we were dumbfounded.

Our little dictator. I have a feeling this one will keep us on our toes...

Secret Secret Blog

Have you ever thought of starting a secret blog? Or for me, it'd be my SECRET secret blog. Because I'm pretty sure most of my family and many of my friends do not know I have this blog, even.

But you can never be too careful.

An overview of what I'd write about?

Well, let's see.

Denial.

Dysfunction.

Douchebaggery.

The three D's, I guess. These days, I'm knee deep in all three. I'm exploring different ways of dealing with people. I'm being more passive aggressive than I ever thought possible.

In short, I am being pushed to the edge of sanity. And I could really, truly write a book about all the gems I've been fed of late, and it would probably be a bestseller in comedy. Or horror. Not sure.

For instance, I have been informed that luck is the only factor that determines what happens to you in life. That people who are successful and pay all their bills on time are simply LUCKY. Who knew?! What have I been doing working all these years?

Seriously. Denial with a capital, gigundo, monstrous D.

Also, did you know that it is the job of our overworked, underpaid teachers to raise our children...homework is just cruel. No parent should have to actually sit down with their child and READ to them or participate actively in their education. That's what we have dad-gum teachers for. Shoot.

Good to know, good to know.

So, in short, all the ideals and morals and work ethic I've employed in my adult life are futile. Because the only reason I'm a responsible adult is because I am simply LUCKY. And, as soon as G is in Kindergarten, I don't have to pay any attention to him anymore and I can leave it to the school to raise him up good.

OMGWTF#!(*(#@&!$()#$!!!!

Maybe I will write a book. Cause seriously? You can't make this sh*t up.