Friday, June 29, 2012

The Friday Diary: Goodbye June


So so, it's that time again. 
It's the end of yet another month in 2012. 
Can you believe it?!
I hate to sound cliche, but really, this year is flying.
I think I say that every year, and I mean it even more every year.
I guess that tells you something about getting older.
Anyway, let's wrap it up.

June feels like it went by so fast that I hardly remember any of it.
I guess that's a big part of why I love blogging: it's a time capsule of our lives. At any point I can look back as far as this blog goes and see where we were a year ago, or two years ago, and so on.

This month I:

Fell in love with Grey's Anatomy, lost a tragic amount of sleep watching it on Netflix, and made it my life's dream to find a best friend like Cristina Yang. I don't need to find a boyfriend like McDreamy. I already have one.
For the first time in 4 years, I made something that was neither food nor a baby. It was fun.

And I told you all about the Big C. I guess in regards to that, I owe you an update. It feels a little wrong and overly casual to say this in a post as silly and unimportant as the Friday diary {but how important are any of these posts, really?} but here it is: My dad's cancer spread more than they initially thought after surgery. The tests all came back showing that it has spread to his nearby lymph nodes, and he now has stage 3B Colon Cancer
He has to start Chemo immediately.

I promise at some point I'll stop being the Debbie Downer in the room who's always talking about people dying.
At some point.

Now, to lighten the mood, a couple pictures from my phone because I'm too lazy to take any nice ones.

Jackson watching a dust storm roll in.

The kids playing "camp out" in the hall by the front door. Don't ask me why.
And yes I do have boxes of shit I still haven't unpacked in my house, DON'T JUDGE.

Happy Friday.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Things I Don't Get


There are so many things exploding with popularity right now, it's insane. 
And sadly, I've jumped on the bandwagon for most of them. 
Pinterest? Absolutely.
Grey's Anatomy? Abso-fucking-lutely.
Becoming a DIY crazed crafty crafter? my dreams anyway. Not yet in real life.
Using Mason jars for absolutely everything? OHMYGODYES.
Oh, yeah, I also joined the world wide lust for Channing Tatum and Patrick Dempsey. 
I get it now, ladies. 
I get it.

However there are some trends that I just cannot get on board with no matter how bad I try, and secretly really want to. It's Tuesday and I'm bored because Bill is out of town with his kids and I have no one to have lunch with, so I decided the best use of my time would be to list all those things here.
{No, I shouldn't be actually working instead, BILL.}

1. Shades of Grey. Up until the other day I totally thought that this Christian Grey everyone was talking about, was Meredith's brother. Honestly, I love erotic literature. Literotica, as I like to refer to it. It's awesome. You can get your porn on without actually having to watch someone be degraded, abused, and smacked in the face with various genitalia. But after like 29 million of my co-workers started raving about this book, I picked it up and flipped through it in the book section at Target {yes, sometimes I look for good literature at Target, DON'T JUDGE ME THEY HAVE EVERYTHING}. I read all of about 6 paragraphs and had to put it down-nay, throw it down. The writing is awful. Just....awful. If you're going to try to seduce my mind, you need to have better linguistic elegance than "Laters Baby". I'm sorry, I couldn't get over that shit. It just sounded too much like something a 14 year old girl would say in a text, or to your face whilst giving you a new age "i have no idea what peace signs mean" peace sign and flipping her hair.

Moving on.

2. Chevron print...anything. I'm sorry, I really don't get what's so amazing about this print! I try, I do. And I admit, some stuff that features it is cute. I'm not saying it's hideous, I just don't understand why it's all of a sudden everybody's everything, and Pinterest is literally drowning in DIY instructions on how to basically Chevron print your whole house!
I feel like it's the new animal print from the late 90's. It's cute in moderation, but we're all going to take it so far that in 10 years we'll never be able to stand the sight of the stuff every again.

3. Running. Seriously, when the hell did everyone become a fucking runner? The other day a facebook friend was talking about how she really enjoyed her 3 mile run at 5 in the morning. I'm sorry, nobody enjoys getting out of bed at 5 in the morning for anything other than sex or donuts. If you ever see me running, please call the police because I am being chased by someone with a huge knife. 

4. Instagram. Don't get me wrong, I love Instagram. I think it's super cool. BUT, all I see now are people Instagramming pictures of what they had for breakfast, or what they're doing at that exact second, or the drink from the gas station that they really liked. Isn't that the same shit that all my non blogging friends gave me shit for doing FOR YEARS when I was all "hold on I wanna take a picture of this for my blog", and now they're all doing it just because Instagram is cool?!
Pfft. Posers. 

5. Tumblr. Maybe I can't get on board with it because I don't understand it. Someone, please tell me, what the fuck is it?!

I want to stop here and let you all know that I mean no judgment on anyone who does or enjoys or agrees with any of the above mentioned things. They're all things that have all existed in my world previously and bothered me none. This is more me saying "What the fuck when did these things get so huge, and why?!" than me saying that they're stupid or wrong.
Just imagine you woke up tomorrow and all of a sudden everyone was wearing clothes made out of toilet paper, and no one acted like the sudden phenomenon was weird or out of the ordinary. Sure you like toilet paper, but you'd still be all "What in the fuck?"

That's how I feel about poorly written literotica. 

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Pinterest Projects: Canvas Quotes

My Pinterest boards are out of control. 
Mainly, my "things I want to make board" is out of control. 
It's my digitized version of hoarding.
I could pin stuff all day long, every single day that I want to make, but unless I actually make any of it, I'm just wasting my time.
So I decided that once a month {minimum, but hopefully more} I will pick something off that board and do it.
Then if it turns out ok, I will give you all instructions on how to do it, or just post pretty pictures of the shit I make so you all feel inferior to my crafty skills.
Just kidding.

I digress.

The first project I picked was actually picked by Lainie:
Quotes/song lyrics on canvas. 
The idea is simple: to have pretty letters that seemingly appear to be cut out of beautiful backgrounds on solid painted canvas.
And the instructions are easy. 
You can find the step by step from the original author here.

I liked her idea, and definitely wanted to try it, but I knew ahead of time I would change it quite a bit. 
For instance, I wanted mine to be smoother and less textured than the ones above.
I was going for something clean and classic that would go well with the comfortable but classy decorating scheme I've been dreaming up for the house these days.

Behold, the product of me and Lainie's entire Saturday:
Supplies. We got a two pack of canvas so we could each make one, and 3 packs of vinyl stickers because they were on clearance at Michael's and we wanted to be sure we had enough. 
The spray paint was .97 cents at Walmart, the scrapbook paper was 5 dollars for the whole pack of it, and each package of stickers was 1.29. Oh, and the Modge Podge was like 4 bucks. 
I used a page of scrap book paper that looked like an old map of Chicago's train routes, because the quote I was putting on mine was travel related, and I am giving it to my dad and he has a soft spot for Chicago. 
I traced the canvas on the back of the paper, and cut just inside my trace lines so I was sure the paper wouldn't hang over the edges of the canvas anywhere. Your edges don't have to be perfect because they'll be glued down and painted over anyway, so no one will know.
Cover just the outer edge on the under side of the paper with Modge Podge, as sometimes regular paper will wrinkle from the heavy weight of the Modge Podge.
Stick on your letters. 
Mine were a little wonky and crooked, but it was my first time, and I was kind of OK with a more messy, spontaneous look. It fits the travel and live your life theme I was going for.
Spray paint. Outside on the ground, of course. Not on your hardwood floor.
And you're done. 
You may need the paint the sides of the canvas by hand with craft paint if it's windy outside because the spray paint might decide to blow anywhere but the edges of the canvas like you want it to. Not that this happened to me or anything....

Like I said, this one is a present for my dad. Since his diagnoses his mantra of sorts has been that if he survives this {which he will} he's going to eat better, live better, and finally see the world.
So hopefully this reminds him to do just that when he gets home.

Happy Pinteresting!

Thursday, June 21, 2012

The Friday Diary: A Week of Worry and Healing


It's Friday. 
I don't have a whole bunch of pictures of what we ate or the things we did, because we ate things like pizza and left over spaghetti in between getting home from work/daycare and going to the hospital to visit my dad.
Oh, yeah, we also ate hospital food.
It wasn't awesome, nor was it picture worthy.
But, the good news is my dad's surgery went as well as could be expected. As of right now, they're calling the surgery curative, and chemotherapy is not being recommended at this time.
That's exactly how the doctor put it.
It was some of the best news I've gotten in my life.
For those of you who sent emails, text messages and left comments or private messages, encouraging and comforting and checking in, thank you.
Really, thank you.
I might not have written back to all of you. 
I might not have sounded as grateful as I was.
But every single "how are you doing?" or "how is your dad?" or "Thinking of you' message meant the world to me.
And in case you were wondering, I did end up taking the day off. 
And Wednesday too.
I waited in the waiting room, I fed my father ice chips, and I watched T.V. with the kids and ate chocolate covered pretzels. We healed. We coped. We were thankful for good news. 
And we napped. A lot.
Napping is good.

So, that was our week.
And now it's Friday, and I just have to get through one more day before I can have an All-Pajamas-All-The-Time weekend with the kids while Bill is in California with his kids.
It's gonna be awesome.

Happy Friday.
I hope you all have a quiet, predominantly pajamas only attired weekend, with the people you love. The people you would take the day off work to wait for in the hospital if they were having surgery.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

I've Been Fine

I'm not writing this for anyone else. 
I'm not writing this for attention, or for blog views, or for sympathy or comments or any other reason that people write things like this.
I'm writing this for me.
I'm writing this because it's 1:38 in the morning and I can't sleep.
Every time I close my eyes I have vivid and terrible nightmares of people dying during surgery, people dropping weight from Chemo treatments until they weigh less than most models do, people losing their hair and eventually fading away. People passing through the seven stages of grief until the once bold and strong, are nothing more than blathering fools who marvel at blades of grass and seize young people in the park, urging them to carpe every diem they have.
I'm writing this because I haven't said it out loud in a way that makes it seem real since I found out, exactly 1 month ago yesterday.
My dad has colon cancer.
He's having surgery today to remove the tumor and find out what stage the cancer is at.
I can't sleep.
And let me make this clear, I was FINE. 
I have been FINE.
I have been completely ok. 
I mean, yes, I was upset when I found out, yes, my hands shook while I made dinner that whole first night that I knew. 
Yes, I cried when I told the two or three people who I've told so far, and YES I drank an entire bottle of {really good} Italian white wine until I couldn't feel my own legs.
But since then, I've for the most part been pretty fucking OK.
And now the surgery is tomorrow, and I didn't take the day off from work because I thought I'd be fine, like I have been, but I'm not.
I am not fine.
And even though he'll be in surgery all day long, and I won't even get to see him until after the time that I'd be off work anyway, I still want to be there. 
I want to be sitting in the hospital waiting room when he rolls out of surgery.
It's the night before, and it's almost 2 a.m. and I didn't take the day off from work, and I am not fine.
I can't sleep.
I can't think of anything but surgery and mortality rates and blood.

I should've taken the fucking day off.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Monday Momisms: Things I Said I'd Never Do


Before I had kids there were a lot of things I swore I would never do.
Things that I totally judged other parents for doing.
Things I would talk about as if I knew what the fuck parenting was like.
I did not.
I would like to openly and honestly apologize to every parent I ever judged for the following things:

1. I will never let my kids sleep in my bed. Ha! That ended after about a week of trying to get up and stumble through the house to get Lainie from her crib and breastfeed her sitting upright in a rocking chair.

2. I will never listen to inappropriate music in the car. Have you ever listened to a "children's music" CD? Ok, maybe you have, but have you ever listened to one 57 times in one day? If you have, you probably did what I did after the 57th repetition: throw that shit out the murther furking window and put Ludacris back on before you rammed your car into a pole.

3. I will never put the T.V. on to distract my kids. I don't even need to explain how wrong I was about this one. Let's just say, Thomas the Train has saved my life on more than one occasion.

4. I will never spank my kids. This one is controversial, and I'm not saying I'm right or wrong either way. I'm saying I said I'd never do it, and I have done it. End of story.

5. I will never send my kids to bed without having a bath. I'm starting to sound negligent here I'm afraid, but I think if we're all honest with ourselves, we can say that there have been nights when you just cannot go on another minute, and showering your kid in the morning, even if it means getting up 10 minutes earlier, is so unbelievably worth it.

6. I will never let my kids wear weird outfits/wear the same thing two days in a row/leave the house without brushing their hair.This went out the window the day Lianie started dressing herself, and when I realized tangled hair was not an epic battle worth having at 6 a.m. with an 8 year old.

7. I will never let my kids cry themselves to sleep as babies. Yep. I've done that. I was desperate and it was a choice between my sanity and their tears. My sanity won.

8. I will always have enough energy to play with my kids after work. Yeah. Sometimes, the most energy I can muster to spend time with them is to lay in bed together and take turns picking funny YouTube videos of cats doing weird things. Sometimes I tell them to go play with each other or go play outside. Sometimes Mommy just needs a fucking break.

9. I will never tell my kids to hit another kid back. Try sticking to that rule when your kid comes home with a huge swollen blue and purple bite mark on their arm, that they got from a bigger and OLDER child at daycare. That's when you hear yourself saying "If someone tries to hurt you, you have every right to defend yourself. Even if that means hitting them back."

10. I will never, ever, under any circumstances, pee with the door open or let my kids be in the bathroom whilst I am peeing. Anyone who's ever said that has never been responsible for the safety of a very curious 2 year old boy.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Father's Day is a Long Day


It's been a long day.
Sometimes that sentence holds more meaning for me than I ever thought it would, when I heard adults throw it around at us kids, using as an excuse to not play Barbies when my mother got home from work, or to feed us Pizza Hut instead of cooking for the second night in a row.
I know now what a person might really mean when they say it's been a long day.
Sometimes they mean that they're exhausted.
That they are tired from the inside out.
Sometimes they mean that today was a day they weren't sure they were ever going to get through when they were in the middle of it, and now that they're in the home stretch they just want to kiss it goodbye as soon as possible.
Sometimes they mean that they hate themselves for how tired they feel.
They feel guilty for wanting today to be over so quickly, because today was supposed to be a special day for someone that they're supposed to love.
And it's not that they don't love the person they're supposed to, it's just that maybe they're supposed to have loved them better, especially on a day like today, but they just couldn't find the energy to do it, and now they wish they had.
Sometimes it means that love wears us out, and responsibility and obligation make us weary, and in the noise of all of that it's easier than we'd like to lose sight of what we know is true:
Today was a gift.
We're lucky to have people we love around us at all.
Some day we'll be all out of Father's Days to celebrate with our dads, and we'll wish that we had done these ones better.
Now that I'm home, in my air conditioned house with the lights off and some candles lit and the smell of home made black bean nachos swirling in the kitchen, I wonder why today was so hard.
I don't really know why this day is always such a struggle for us, my father and I.
I don't really know why it never works out the way I swear every year that it will this time.
I do know all the little ways in which this day tests me and hurts me and infuriates me and exhausts me, but I also know I love my father too much to write it all out for the world to see.
To make our weaknesses and dysfunctions live in infamy forever.
I just wish that for once it would go better.
I wish for once that it wouldn't hurt as badly as it always does.
I wish I knew I had plenty more Father's Days left to figure it all out.
But I don't know how many I have left.
How many he has left.

I guess in the end, the good news is, no matter how damaged or flawed he is, no matter how scarred and imperfect he left me, I know my father loves me.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Confessions of a Former Doula {an insanely long post}


For those of you who read this that know me personally, or have been reading for more than a year,  you know that I used to be a doula and a student midwife.
If you don't know what a doula is, I'll explain it quickly: it's someone who is hired by soon to be parents to help educate and support them through out their pregnancy, and then provide physical, emotional and education support during a {usually} natural birth, and the first few weeks of postpartum.
We teach childbirth classes, we help you learn to breastfeed, we loan you books about pregnancy and we give you tons and tons of resources like pregnancy chiropractors, prenatal yoga instructors, info on how to avoid a c-section, questions to ask your doctor, and we more or less help you have as natural of a birth as possible in a hospital, or at home with a midwife.

I worked as a doula for about year.
It was hard.
I was on call 24/7 for almost the entire year.
I attended 4 births a month on average as a doula, and an additional 2-4 as a student midwife {read: for free}
My phone was on all the time.
I slept with my phone by my head all the time.
I didn't leave town, I didn't go anywhere that didn't have cell service, and I generally didn't make any plans ever if they meant I could miss a birth because of them.
I missed Easter. 
I missed time with my kids.
I missed a lot of bed times and bath times and dinner times and stories.
I was exhausted a lot.
My house was disgustingly dirty a lot.
I lived in constant anticipation of the phone ringing.
But you know what?
I loved it.
I did.
It was hard. Sometimes too hard. There were more than one births where I had to excuse myself to cry it out in the hallway, or where I bawled my eyes out on the way home, or to another birth.
I spent multiple days in the hospital eating in the cafeteria if I got to eat at all, and sneaking in a break to text my kids when I could.
But I did love it.
I loved the moms I met who were strong, and empowered and believed in themselves.
I loved the husbands I met who believed in their wives. 
I loved the look on a woman's face when her brand new baby was placed on her chest, and she realized she did it.
I loved holding the new babies in the postpartum visits and when the women would look at me through tear filled eyes and genuinely say 'thank you". My response to that was always an equally teary "No. Thank you."

What I didn't like about working as a doula was the activism that seemed to be involved.
Feeling like every time I tried to answer a woman's questions honestly about what to expect from a hospital birth, I was getting up on a soap box.
I didn't like the look I got from so. many. damn. nurses. when they walked into the delivery room and I was introduced as "the doula". I could feel them thinking "Oh great. This bitch read a couple hippie books about giving birth in the woods and now she thinks she knows everything, and she's hired this little back  up know it all who's going to try to keep me from doing my job."
And I didn't blame them. I would've thought the same thing.
They have to go by the book, they have to follow protocol or it could be their job.
The problem was, so much of what is necessary to achieve a natural birth, goes against hospital protocol.
I got tired of feeling like a ranting, pushy asshole every time I told women "If you want to try to make a hospital birth into a home birth, why not just hire a midwife and have a homebirth? Why push doctors and nurses so far out of their comfort zone that you're probably creating a dangerous situation for yourself?" and seeing their husbands eyes roll.
I hated seeing anyone's eyes roll when I tried to explain the mind/body connection that plays into childbirth.
I got tired of pumping my fist and feeling like an anti-hospital protester. 
I felt like I walked a fine line between being honest and saying I love hospitals, and I am a HUGE fan of modern medicine, and then turning around and being honest when I said "but I think sometimes we go too far. I think sometimes we interfere when we shouldn't, and I think the mass population is severely misguided and uneducated about the real facts"
And you know what else?
I got tired of the selfishness.
I had some amazing clients, some truly awesome clients, who I loved dearly, and still to this day think about all the time.
But I had some fucking assholes too.
I had a husband who tried to sue me for causing his wife to have a c-section because I upset her when he asked me to leave the birth, and I did.
After nine months of going to their house almost weekly to talk about their plan, their fears, their concerns, their worries. Teaching them childbirth classes, chatting with her on Gmail until the wee hours, answering every god blessed phone call at 2 a.m. because "something felt different".
After a 14 hour labor where his sister tried to get in my way at every turn, and he and his sister basically took turns making the mother cry and freak out every time a contraction "seemed too strong".
He tried to sue me.
And when that didn't work, when we agreed on a deal to settle it all, he trashed me online. He left shitty reviews every place he could, he wrote awful things about me.
I cried for two days.
I had poured my heart and soul into them.
I had another couple who wanted their money back because I asked if we could reschedule their prenatal visit for the third time because I was at yet another birth.
I understand their were upset, but it was in my contract and out of my control. 
I had to tell them no and sever our relationship two weeks before the birth of their baby. I felt awful.
There were some shitty people in the mix who hired me thinking I would be the ultimate protector from all evil, scalpel wielding doctors, and I would wave the magic "natural and pain free effortless birth wand" and everything would be flawless.
They didn't want to take accountability, they didn't want to educate themselves, and they didn't want to have to work.
I couldn't work hard enough for all of us, and I missed my family.

But like I said, sometimes, I miss it.
I'm friends with some doulas I met along the way on facebook, and sometimes their posts pull at my heartstrings.
I have two shelves full of pregnancy and childbirth books. I always say I'm going to sell them. I know I never will.
Sometimes I find a stack of my old business cards and I feel a little sting.
I miss it.
I miss the good moments, I miss the victories. I miss the sound of a fetal heartbeat on a doppler in my hands.
I miss that moment where the head first appears and you know it's all been worth it. You feel everyone in the room get the chills.
I miss running my hands over a smooth, taught belly and feeling for the top of the fundus, measuring the uterus, checking for swelling.
I miss conversations in my midwifery preceptor's office at lunch time, about the birth process and the spiritual impact and the mental roadblocks, while she nursed her son and we ate good cheese and nitrate free pastrami and felt like we were doing some good in the world.
I miss arriving at a woman's house in the quiet of 2 a.m. and seeing her face light up when I walk into the room, taking her hand, and telling her today could be her baby's birthday.
I don't think I have it in me to go back.
But sometimes, when I remember the sisterhood, and victories, and the magic of that whole world I lived in for however short of a time of my life, I just....miss it.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

McDreamy McDiction


I recently discovered Grey's Anatomy.
AKA: the new reason why my kids are running around in their underwear and the house smells like water buffalo.
This show is dangerous.
I can't stop myself.
It's like a dirty mistress, and I find myself thinking about it all the time.
Just waiting for the next time when I can go home, lay in my bed in a huge t-shirt with the fan on, and watch as many episodes as I want, whilst freely and openly crying at the sad parts, and wishing I had a best friend like Cristina Yang.
I honestly can't believe I never knew how good this show was before.
Really, it's my own fault.
I am a natural contrarian when it comes to t.v. shows. Don't ask me why.
When a new show comes out that is "all the rage", I find myself almost instantly opposed to watching it. Once I hear the girl from processing in my office who has wall-eye and an I.Q. lower than some of the chicken embryos that once existed in the eggs in my fridge, talking in the break room about how much she just LOOOVEES show XYZ, my resolve to never watch show XYZ only strengthens.
Did you know I've never seen a single episode of Lost?
Did you know I watched the very first episode of 24 after the series was cancelled in it's like 11th season?
And now I'm watching Grey's Anatomy, when the 8th or 9th season is about to air in September.
It's a sickness.

Signs You're Too Addicted to Grey's Anatomy:

10. You start contemplating moving to Seattle and doing something that will cause you to need surgery, so you can go to Grace hospital-which doesn't exist.

9. You accidentally call your boyfriend McDreamy-so often that he just thought it was his new nickname until someone else pointed out where it's from.

8. When you call in sick to work, you site reasons such as your conditioner stopped working and you think you might have brittle bones, so it's best you just stay in bed and feel like dying all day.

7. You find yourself correcting strangers in public when you over hear them discussing aneurysms. 

6. Patrick Dempsey has replaced....everyone on your celebrity crush list.

5. You know every single Tegan and Sara song by heart.

4. It's after midnight, you have to be up at 6 a.m. for work, and instead of sleeping you're rationalizing ways to watch another episode because the last one was such a cliff hanger.

3. You refuse to accept that they're ALL cliff hangers.

2. Nobody asks what you're doing after work anymore. They already know.

1. You refer to your very absolute bestest friend as "your person". The one that if you murdered someone, they'd come help you drag the corpse out to the desert. Your person.

Now shut down Netflix, and go the fuck to sleep.

Saturday, June 9, 2012


Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I try reading books.
But I'm tired so my eyes get blurry and I can't focus on the words for too long.
Sometimes, I go in the bathroom and practice facial expressions in the mirror.
Now I know what I look like when I try to wink.
This has kept me from trying to wink as often.
Sometimes, I lay in bed and watch random things on YouTube, or pin useless things on Pinterest, 
But I think those things just keep me up longer, rather than helping me fall asleep.
Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I pretend I know how to do yoga:

Which obviously, I don't.
Sometimes I go outside and look up at the sky
But then I get scared of monsters and serial killers because it's nighttime and dark out, so I run back inside and jump to my bed from my bedroom doorway so they can't get me.
Sometimes I can't sleep, 
And I do a lot of weird things to pass the time.
But mostly when I'm not sleeping, I'm thinking about you.
About the heavy weight of your leg and how it anchors me to the bed when you throw it over my waist at night.
About the fact that if you were here, I'd be sleeping because I'm always calm enough to rest when my head is on your chest.
And all the books I look at aren't as interesting as your face in the moonlight, 
And all the things I pin when it's almost midnight end up being somehow related to you.
And all the things I wander around this big quiet house doing, are all really just ways to keep myself from calling, or texting, to wake you up and say
I miss you.
I wish you were here.
I'm not sleeping, 
But I am thinking
Of you
Of us
And how very much you and your love will always mean to me.

Goodnight, sweet dreams.

Friday, June 8, 2012

The Friday Diary: The Haves and The Haven'ts

Happy Friday!
I love Friday.
I get to wear jeans and Chucks at work.
I get to come home and take as long of a post work nap as I want without worrying about being up too late afterward, because I can sleep in the next day.
I love Fridays so much, I stop giving a fuck on Thursday in celebration of the next day being Friday, a day on which no fucks are given, ever. 


I haven't been:
I haven't had a cigarette since last Thursday, May 31st.
That's not to say I haven't wanted one.
That's not to say I haven't REALLY wanted one.
On Saturday I came -this close- to buying cigarettes. I went to Circle K and got ice cream for me and the kids instead.
Small victories.

Eating fast food.
I cooked every night this week, Sunday through to today, and I will cook tonight too.
How's that going? You ask.
Real fucking hard.
I thought somehow that by not eating out I would be magically transformed into a '50's housewife with a gingham apron and perfect hair.
I forgot I would still be a working single mother who's dead tired when she gets home.


I have been:
Working out.
Honestly, I didn't work out at all during the weekend.
Not once.
And I consumed alcohol, which pretty much means I should've worked out twice a day every day of the weekend just to burn that shit off, but I didn't. BUT I have gotten at LEAST 20 minutes of exercise every day during the work week.
A girl at work told me my ass looked good in the skirt I wore to work on Wednesday.
I was so happy I almost wet myself.


Overheard This Week:
Jackson: When I was older and I had a job, I went to work every day.
Me: Oh yeah? You had a job? What happened to it?
Jackson: I can't work there anymore because I got little. I'll work there again when I get big again like you.
Me: What did you do at your work?
Jackson: People turned me into a plane and I flew all over da pwace. {read: the place}
Me: That sounds fun.
Jackson: Yeah, and when I gotted off work and picked up my kids I didn't tell them I was too tired to go get them ice cream from da store. Like you did.

Oh. Burn.


This time last year:
I had just come back from Vegas, the very first trip that Bill and I ever took together.
It was a very fun trip, and I still wish we would've taken some pictures.
But, I have the memories and I have a blog post, and that's part of what makes this blog so special.
I can always look back at where I was on this date, in some other year and read about what I did from the perspective I had at the time.
And besides, pictures or no pictures, I will never forget how upset poor drunk Bill was when our room service arrived and he realized he ordered a bacon cheeseburger.
Bill: Oh my God, I got a BACON CHEESEBURGER? Why would I do that?!
Me: What you don't like cheeseburgers?
Bill: No, I love cheeseburgers, but there's BACON  on it!
Me: You don't like bacon?
Bill: No, I do like bacon. But why did I order this?!
Me: Do you want me to eat the bacon for you?
Bill: But you got your own food...
Me: That has nothing to do with whether or not I can still eat all your bacon. I can. And I will.

We still don't know why he ordered that. Or why he was so upset about it.
Everybody loves bacon.


Craft time

Lainie and I spent some time doing a little crafting this week. 
We made some pretty labels for her boxes of art supplies, and organized her craft closet.
And we've been working on making good choices, so we made a good choices jar. She gets a "drop" in her jar for every good choice, such as helping her brother, getting dressed in the morning without complaint, clearing her dinner dishes without being asked, etc.  Drops in her jar will be things like "coupons" that she can turn in for different stuff like picking what we have for dinner, or getting a sleepover with a friend, or whatever she's been asking to do lately, or sometimes money, or maybe little treats like pretty rocks {which she loves} or candy, or whatever. 
We'll see what effect this has on her choice making.

Spaghetti night

I love how little kids get spaghetti sauce like all over their body when they eat it. Especially on weird parts of their face, like their nose and forehead. It's just adorable to me. Watching my kids eat spaghetti is probably 90% of the reason why I make it.


Stuff We Tried:
Over the weekend Lainie and I attempted Fairies in a jar, which was supposed to look like this:
Fairies in a jar DIRECTIONS: 1. Cut a glow stick and shake the contents into a jar. Add diamond glitter 2. Seal the top with a lid. 3. Shake

It did not look a damn thing like that when we were done.
That pin was bullshit.
But it was fun trying it anyway.


Well, that's our week.
Hope yours was awesome too.
Happy Friday.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

What It Was Like


Somebody asked me today what it was like growing up with someone who was bi-polar.
To my own astonishment, I stood there with my mouth flapping silently like a half drunk seal, completely unable to put anything into words.
What was it like?
It was like living on the edge of a canyon, where the bottom is full of wolves, and sneaking out at night to listen to them howling just so many feet below you, their hollow instinctual keening rising up like a tidal wave above the rock walls, so deep and sharp that you can feel it in your belly.
And there's nothing you can do about the sound, or the location of your house, or the fact that wolves need to howl and you can't sleep through the sound, so you just sit, night after night on the rim of that canyon and listen.
And watch.
And sometimes you howl too just because maybe they'll stop if they think they're not alone.
It's like living in a world where pain and beauty and loss exist all at the same time, and all of  the time. It's the sound of Mozart in the morning, and not being able to paint to anything but Berlioz or Bob Dylan.
It's song lyrics painted on the wall, and waking up to pasta for breakfast and candy bars hidden between the pages of your school books.
It's not having friends over for months at a time, and learning how to drive when you're 14.
It's motorcycles, and charcoal drawings and smoking on the back patio at 4 a.m.
It's knowing what the morning smells like when you didn't sleep last night, and explaining to people why your dad is always sleeping on the couch at 4 p.m.
And the weird part is, you hate all of it, and you can't live without any of it.
And when you finally grow up and move away you find yourself doing odd things.
Like making messes in the kitchen so you can pretend they're someone else's when you clean them up, or playing Berlioz even though you always hated that music, or leaving the T.V. on in the other room while you sleep, because you realize you've never slept in a silent house.
You miss the way 80 miles an hour feels on the back of a Harley when you should be at school, and what a good burrito tastes like when your dad brings you one home unexpectedly in the middle of the night.
You realize that growing up with someone like that is like carrying a bouquet of broken glass and roses, like loving someone who's imprisoned in another country, like a song you can't stop humming.
It's beautiful and it's painful, and it's a color that there isn't a name for.
It's what a child who's been deaf since he was born calls his mother.
It's your own word for love.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Love Lives Here Now


As you kiss tiny trails down my spine 
I can feel stars come alive, 
One by one beneath the petals of your lips
Awakening tiny sparks in the endings of my nerves and the multitude of cells that compose my skin, 
And you are shaking off the dust and apathy that I have settled into.
With each imprinted kiss that moves down the winding road of me, 
You are leaving some signature, 
Some rose and beach blush,
Some sign that love lives here now
And I hope you never let me go.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Our Weekend: Food, Fun and First Sleep-overs!

The top group of pictures is us on our way to see a girlfriend of mine from work, and then my kids playing with her son. Our boys are only a month apart in age so watching them play together was absolutely adorable. She lived out in the sticks {as you can see from the pictures} so we all slept there that night, and it was Jackson's very first sleep over!
Very exciting times for a four year old.
Saturday we hung around the house, had lunch with Jack's uncle Tony at his family's restaurant, and then I had a lovely night with Bill, that unfortunately there are no pictures of.
Sunday we hit up the farmers market for some fresh peaches, nectarines and watermelon {which I spent ALL DAY cubing and jarring}, I finally got around to cleaning Jack's room {yes that is a picture of it CLEAN} and then we fattened up on some parmesan crusted chicken breast.
Want the recipe?
I know you do, because it's only four ingredients and it was so good that BOTH kids asked for seconds, which literally never happens.

All you need is 1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breast
An oven heated to 425
A 9x13 glass casserole dish
Shredded parmesan cheese
Italian style bread crumbs
Seasonings you like such as garlic, onion powder, salt and pepper. That's what we used, but you can use whatever turns you on.
Mix the cheese and the mayo, spread on both sides of chicken
Spray the casserole dish with some Pam
Place chicken in it
Sprinkle bread crumbs over the top of the chicken until its coated, but only on the one side

Bake for 20 minutes or until juices run clear.
It's seriously delicious.

Happy Sunday!

Friday, June 1, 2012

The Friday Diary: Goodbye May, Hello June

You Can Be the Boss by Lana Del Rey on Grooveshark

Happy Friday!
And also, Happy June!
Holy crap, it's already June.
Good Lord.
As always, I like to wrap up May, and look forward to June.

Join me, won't you?


In May....


All in all, May was a month of a lot of change.
A healthy amount of self realization, and hopefully the catalyst for some more positive change in June.

IN FACT, speaking of positive change, I made a list of June goals, y'all!
I know. 
You're on the edge of your seat.
Well, suffer in anticipation no longer!

In June I will....

Stop smoking....for reals this time. I smoked the last cigarette I had today, and I am refusing to buy more.
Stick to my ever loving, mother fucking budget. Seriously. I make one every single month, and every single month I fuck it up one way or another. Most of the time it's something small, like an extra five or ten bucks on something, but sometimes, and please don't judge me for this, it's ridiculously out of control. So this is the month! I'M GONNA DO IT.
Sidenote: I am taking my dad to Oceanside for his birthday on the last weekend of the month...BUT I BUDGETED FOR THAT SO IT DOESN'T COUNT.
Eat better. I've been getting better and better about the shit I cook. Making more fish, less beef, hardly any pasta anymore. But I still get so freaking lazy and eat out or order pizza more than I should. I'm going to be SUPER strict with myself and limit it to 1 fast food/pizza a month until I learn better habits. Then I might losen the reigns a bit. Last month I went almost 100 dollars outside my food budget, entirely because of convenience foods. I know. For shame. 
Work out five times a week. Minimum. I got a couple more work out videos {Jillian Michaels 30 day shred and Bob Harper's Weight Loss Yoga} so I have plenty of variety to change it up with and hopefully keep me interested. A guy at work asked if I just had a baby the other I shot him. In my head. In real life I cried and ate five cookies. It's time to not jiggle so damn much.
And last but not least, I am going to remember that happiness is a choice.
I've been through some super hard shit in my life, but for as long as I can remember I was always considered the happiest, most positive person anyone knew-except people who hung out with cheerleaders or The God Squad. Lately I've totally lost sight of how good it used to feel to just choose to laugh shit off, and have a good time, as much as possible, instead of letting every negative thing effect me to the deepest degree possible. 
It's Summer, damn it!
If this isn't the season to be peppy, then I don't fucking know what is.
So here's to UBER POSITIVITY. May we all be so happy, that we irritate the shit out of people who are having a bad day, just by walking past them.

Happy Friday. 
Happy June.
Go get 'em tiger.