Sunday, May 30, 2010

My New Defining Characteristic - Hypocrisy

So my kids play with playmobil, and while it's gorgeous and fun (and expensive), it's also a little fragile. I mean not in the "broken beyond repair" way, but in the "if you pick it up wrong, or touch it wrong, hell if you sneeze near it wrong, it will fall apart and you have to rebuild it and it's a pain in the ass" way.

Well, they're playing Playmobil with Leni and Morgan (because Tallulah was begging to get to play with the boys, so I gave her today, and Oliver yesterday and tomorrow) and Morgan decided to move Tallulah's mansion. Insert big boom and the bottom falling off of the house, and also the roof losing pieces.
So I went in to try to fix it, only Santa didn't explain to me how to fix it when he brought it over, he told Perry, and of course, they broke it 2 seconds after Perry left. Perfect.

After trying for 10 minutes, and getting all but one of the roof pieces on, I went to put up the last one and the whole roof snapped off. Perfecter.

So I did the only thing I could do. I ripped off the roof and stuffed it in a bucket to await Perry's pleasure. And then I bitched at all 4 kids about how we don't move the mansion (the roof also came off last time they came over).

Now is the part where I'm a giant hypocrite.

Not 5 minutes after I huffed out of there, Oliver huffed out and threw himself on the couch.

Me: What's wrong Oliver?

Oliver: I'm just not going to play with them.

Me: Why?

Oliver: Because Morgan keeps on making rules I don't like. And Tallulah keeps saying "that's mine". (all of this was delivered either in drippingly sarcastic tones, or when quoting to Tallulah, a high pitched mocking voice)

Me: Oliver, is it worth it to get upset over this?

Oliver: No. But they..

Me: Just answer the question.

Oliver: (squirms and starts pulling at his hair)

Me: Don't get pissy with me. Answer the question.

Oliver: No.

Me: (insert a brilliant explanation of how he's not really mad about the rules, or the "it's mines", he's mad because he has to play with the girls and share Morgan)

Oliver: But..

Me: (insert a heartfelt explanation of how if Ella and Leni came over but not Morgan he'd be sad and need extra attention too)

Oliver: But I wouldn't play with the girls, I'd just go in my room!!

Me: Ok.. go to your room, and calm down, and when you aren't mad about anything anymore and can be civil to other people, you can come out.

Oliver: (huge dramatic sigh)

See?? Look at me, all not being okay with Oliver pouting and throwing hissy fits, but I can break the roof of the playmobil and yell at small children when I get mad.

In my head it's because I'm the mom and I can get away with that shit. Or maybe because I very rarely REALLY throw something or totally lose it.

But if I was being completely honest with myself I would admit that it's really because I'm not capable of the control that I think he ought to have.

Just this once, I think we won't be honest.

Why I'm Going to Become a Junky

So I went to a new doctor for my migraines. And he gave me some different preventative and they're great - we've moved from 7 a week to 3 a week.
But he gave me Treximet for the actual pain, and I'm one of those read-the-pharmacy-packet people, and it said it could cause Serotonin Syndrome*, which I've already had.
So I didn't take it, and I called the doctor's office last Monday.

And he yelled at me.

Something having to do with "wrong diagnosis" and "I'm fucking brilliant just do what I say you dumb bitch".

For some reason, that makes me want to go back to the doctor who couldn't help me, because at least he didn't think I was an idiot for reading up on chemicals someone that I don't know that well wants me to put in my body.

And that doctor thinks that Vicodin should be my friend. So I think I'll just give up and be a junky.

*I do of course realize that's a very rare side effect. I just wasted to check and see. I actually have no idea what it really means and I thought I should check and see if I would get sick from my drugs.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

I am SO Unprofessional

And that's totally ok, because I don't get paid for this shit. I mean, I'm unprofessional at work too, but that's ok, because of lots of reasons that Bean will not let me discuss.

But I digress.

I totally just realized that I've been sending links to my potty-mouth-look-how-insane-I-am blog to my uber straight laced, Church Youth Director friend..


Saturday is Hot and also The Douche-canoe in the Sky

I know that I'm not the Wicked Witch of the West or anything (although Oliver does sometimes think I am A witch, just maybe not THAT witch), but seriously, I was melting today. And it's only May. This does not bode well for my summer.

Other than that it's been a pretty kick ass day so far (or at least kick ass in the way that we're all still breathing, so far). I took the kids out to BFE for my niece Leni's birthday*. She's one of Connie's daughters, so we got to see the crew, except that Ella wasn't there and she's Tallulah's buddy, so she was a little bitch all day. But Oliver got to see his "brother from another mother", Morgan.
Anyway, Connie's douche-canoe of an exhusband lives in Idaho or Iowa - one of those "I" states (though I think it should be Idaho, just so that he can have to say he's a Ho, because he is), and she never gets any breaks because of that, so when she asked if I could take Morgan, I volunteered to take Leni too.

Obviously, I am showing my insanity, because noone in their right mind would want 4 children** for 3 days and 2 nights, but hey..

Getting to the point though..

Leni & Tallulah were talking over dinner:

Leni: My daddy lives in the sky.

Tallulah: Awww.. He died??

Leni: No. He just lives in the sky.

Tallulah: Yeah, that's where you live when you die.

Leni: He didn't die. He just lives in the sky with God.

Tallulah: ?????

Me: He didn't die Tallulah.

Tallulah: ?????

Leni: Nope. He just lives in the sky.

For the record, the douche-canoe didn't die. He just abandoned his children. And Tallulah is probably going to need an extended discussion about the difference between Idaho (or Iowa, whatever) and Heaven.

* The whole birthday party part was not kick ass - kids birthday parties are like Chinese water torture to me - those are the parties where you really need alcohol, but it's frowned upon for some reason - stupid responsible parents.
**Let me clarify, for the sensitive - people who actually have 4 children are not necessarily insane, I'm just talking about people with fewer children who volunteerily give up they're 3 day weekend to babysit.

Friday, May 28, 2010

I Have the Coolest Son Ever or How I Failed Horribly

I took Oliver over to Alien's today. (Alien being Oliver's father, it's a really long story, but biologically speaking Oliver is not Perry's son). And Alien was talking about how Oliver needs to start doing "guy things" - obviously I said yes, and explained how that's not my department, Perry's a pussy (which Alien totally agreed with) and Bean hurts (another really long story), but Alien is more than welcome to take over.
Then we left and Oliver and I were talking in the car.

Me: Alien wants to take you to do "guy stuff", would that be okay with you??

Oliver: Yeah!! Because you know, I've lived with females my whole life.

Me: What about Dad??

Oliver: Well, he's a shemale.

This is the point where I failed horribly, because I shouldn't have laughed at that, but it was fucking hysterical. Mostly because I'm pretty sure he's right.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Float a Boy

Holy cow. One of the guys at work was talking about getting a life raft off one of the boats. Only he called it a “float a boy”* which is totally perfect because you know that’s exactly what they’re supposed to do. The boat sinks and they float a boy. Awesome.

*I’m actually pretty sure that I misheard him and he said something like: “float or a buoy”, but I just heard “float a boy”.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Evil Little Homewrecker

This post is for all of you men (who do not read my blog). I am not an evil little homewrecker.

For starters, you have to be a fairly large person to call me a little anything. Secondly, I’m not evil, and I really don’t understand why everyone thinks I am. I’m actually pretty cute and cuddly, and way too empathetic for any serious evil acts. Thirdly, I didn’t ruin your marriage, you did.

See, this all started when I got a divorce from Perry. And I didn’t do it because I was bored (even though I was), or because the non-existent sex was bad (even though it was), or because I wanted all of his money (good thing too, because he doesn’t have any).

I got a divorce because the sex was non-existent (even after 4 years of begging for it), and because Perry doesn’t like me (so he thought he should do his best to change me, or at the very least suppress my personality), and because Perry is incapable of telling the truth (especially on simple things). But, if those had been our only problems, I probably would have sucked it up. The reason I really got a divorce is because Perry has some very unsavory habits that make it impossible for me to trust him alone with my children.

Then shortly after I got my divorce, my friend Miley decided she was done. And her then husband decided that I was evil and a bad influence on her, and that’s why she wanted a divorce. It’s of course beside the point that he’s emotionally and verbally abusive, that he is a compulsive spender and that he (like Perry) can’t stand Miley and completely subjugated her Miley-ness. And that’s not even mentioning his totally Nazi-like parenting style.

So Miley got her divorce and is working on happiness now (if you’re interested you can follow that here).

After Miley came Connie. Connie’s then husband also decided that I was the reason for their divorce. Nevermind, that he has cheated on her with countless women off and on for the entirety of their 9 or so year marriage. It also doesn’t really matter that he walks the line between physical abuse and fighting, and completely crosses that line when it comes to emotional and verbal abuse.

Again, it was obviously my fault that another divorce happened.

But recently my friend, Ophalia, decide that she’d had enough. And yet again (you guessed it), it’s absolutely all my fault.

I’m sure that his lack of anything remotely resembling responsibility was not a contributing factor. And his repeated verbal barrages also had nothing to do with it. It couldn’t possibly have been that he has some moderately disturbing kinks (that she does not share) or that he’s a strong contender for Deadbeat Dad of the Year (at least in the Still Married to Mom category).

Now, for the third time, I am apparently responsible for a failed marriage that I was not a party in.

So here’s the deal guys – If you neglect, abuse, or otherwise treat your wife like shit, it’s no one’s fault but your own if she divorces your sorry ass. I realize that nobody likes to feel like they’re in the wrong, but when it comes to taking responsibility for your marriage, you really need to just grow a pair.

I didn’t turn any of your women into lesbians, and as far as I’ve been able to determine that is the only way that I could have really been the reason you got a divorce.

But if you need an apology, here you go: I'm sorry that I supported all of your wives when they cried to me about what an ass you are. And I'm sorry that I gave them the affirmation that you didn't and agreed with them that they could be good people and more importantly good mothers AND not be married to a jackass.
I'm sorry that I told them they were loveable and desireable and deserving.

My bad.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

I got an Award!!

This is so cool!! I got a blogger award from my good friend Miley of Woman Confused .. Her blog is actually one of only two that I read regularly, and you have no idea how excited I am about this whole thing. Thank you!!

So apparantly there's a whole process involved, and you're supposed to:
1. Thank the person who gave you this award.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pass the award along to 15 bloggers (or as many as you can) who you have recently discovered and who you think are fantastic!

#1 - is covered, but I'll cover it again just because - Thanks Miley!!

#2 - 7 Things about me (and this part is a little dicey, because as far as I know only 2 people read my blog, and they already know just about everything about me - oh well, I guess we'll review anyway):

1. I get bored really easily. Usually this translates into hair cuts & colorings, or maybe some rearranged furniture. But occassionally it gets a little out of hand.

2. I hate little yippy dogs, even though I own one.

3. I have stuppendously bad luck. Like the epic kind. I'm one of those people, that if I touch it, it's bound to be screwed up in some way. I've never even won $1 on a scratch-off.

4. I'm a little fanatical about personal hygiene. I think it's because my ex-husband showers twice a month (almost literally).

5. I am certifiably insane. I see things that are not there (like cats walking on the top of my cubicle at work), and sometimes I think that I'm a giant (which I'm not at 5'5").

6. I like sex - alot. I'm one of the abnormal women who want sex more than their husbands. And my husband has a very healthy libido.

7. I have some issues with over-sharing. I like honesty, but occassionally I forget that not everyone wants to know if they look fat in that dress, and they also didn't really want the answer to the question they just asked. I have trouble answering simple questions, like "How are you?"

#3 - Again, I have a few issues with this, because I don't actually read alot of blogs, but I do love the only blog besides Miley's that I read..

Chels, from Just A Little Bit Diva

I'm starting to think I may have to start reading some more..

My Greatest Enemy

Laundry is my enemy. I hate it. The worst part about it is that I could do all of the laundry today and there would be another massive pile to be done on Tuesday. You're never finished.
And maybe I could stand it if all I had to do was sort it and then wash it, but people think you're a slob if you don't put the laundry away!!

And then there's that.
I mean, of all the things to wash towels are probably the easiest, at least they are to fold, but this is ridiculous - that's two weeks.
Like four - maybe six, of those are me and Bean's. The rest are Oliver and Tallulah's. It's like they need a separate towel for each digit. It's insane.

I can't wait until they're tall enough to reach the washer. I'm never touching their laundry after that.

The Facebook Pose

Classic "Facebook Pose"

I thought that "The Facebook Pose" was a learned behavior. You know, some visionary took one, and everyone saw how cool they looked with half of their upper arm in the shot and then copied them.
I now know that I was wrong.

Tallulah likes to steal my camera. And I thought she was taking random pictures of her room, the dogs or whatever else struck her fancy - and she was. But she was also taking pictures of herself in "the facebook pose", alot. And where would she have learned "the facebook pose"?? I mean, yes I do have some of those pictures (don't laugh too hard, you know you do too), but usually its because I'm at some cool place with Bean and want to commemorate that with a picture. It's almost never because I need a great headshot for my facebook account. And even if it was - she hasn't seen all the pictures on my facebook.

I guess that I don't have anything to complain about, really. I mean, yeah she took a bunch of pictures of herself, but at least they were all with a really sweet 6 year old smile on her face and not with the "Oh what a big dick" look on her face.

"Oh What a Big Dick" Pose

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Picture Frenzy


I haven't uploaded pictures in 5 months, at least. We had probably literally a thousand pictures.

This is a pain in the ass.

Crazy-er and Hallucinations

I think I may be going crazy-er.

Last night I was locking up the house before going to bed, and I locked the deadbolt on the back door (which Bean cannot unlock from the outside) and then I turned around to head for bed. But halfway to the bedroom I realized what I had done, turned around, went back and unlocked that particular deadbolt, then went to bed for real.

But this morning, Bean was locked out of the house because that deadbolt was locked and the other lock on the door was not.

So I don't know if something happened in the middle of the night to make that lock locked (like Mom got up for some reason and locked it or I sleepwalked and locked it or someone broke into my house & locked it then climbed out a window - you notice how these theories are getting progressively scarier) or if I hallucinated the whole unlocking process.

It sucks to be crazy sometimes.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010


Normally I don't like to really rant here. Mostly because I am incredibly unattractive when I rant, but secondly because I don't actually make a lot of sense.. But this is a special occassion, so I'm making an exception.

Things you should know before I begin:
1. My mother is the queen of the guilt trip
2. I hate guilt trips and almost always cave
3. My mother lives with us
4. My sister is evil and has been torturing our mother for several years for things that weren't really in her control
5. My grandmother was also kind of evil and tortured my mother for a lifetime also for things that weren't really in her control
6. I love my mother very much, but I also know exactly who she is
7. I HATE causing my mother pain, she's had quite enough for several lifetimes

Ok, you are now prepped and totally ready.

I was not exactly Mom of the Year when Oliver was an infant. I'm still kindof beating myself up over that. I'm told (but don't fully believe) that it was completely excusable because I was only 18.

Don't get me wrong, he was fed, clothed, bathed, etc. - everything that you can actually list, but the untangeable things like cuddling, watching him sleep, that kind of thing didn't come until later. So Mom was perfectly within her rights to help me when I first began parenting.. She just never stopped.

So if I'm in my living room berating one of my children for hitting another, she's likely to walk in and "help" me.

While I was married to Perry this wasn't really that big of a problem, because my entire life was a nightmare (with the exception of my kids) and he had me convinced that I sucked and should do my damnest to suppress my personality (which by the way, I was pretty good at). But now that I'm married to Bean, I'm encouraged on a minute by minute basis to be myself because I am awesome. And while I don't actually agree with him, the "me" is definately coming out.

So here's what went down tonight:

Me: Oliver, go get your paper.

Mom: What are you looking for, Oliver?

Me: I got it Mom.

Mom: (in a REALLY grumpy tone of voice) I know you've got it, but I was just trying to help since his paper's right here next to me.

Me: (calmly) Mom, please don't fight with me in front of the kids.

Mom: (now proceeding into downright bitchy) Then don't start it!!

Me: (now seeing red, and contemplating slapping her - but still pretty damn calmly, if I do say so myself) Then don't interfere when I'm trying to parent my children.

(Mom is now almost crying - see #1)

Me: Mom, I love you very much, but sometimes I feel like you have a very helpful teenage daughter and two small children and I'd like to be able to parent my own kids.

(Mom is still not looking at me, and almost crying - see #1)

Me: I feel like I can't talk to you about anything without you overreacting.

(Mom is STILL not looking at me, and might be really crying - see #1)

Me: Mom I love you very much. (and then I hugged her)

Mom: I love you too.*

She's still not speaking to me really, and I have no idea how long this will continue. My mother also has stamina.

*One of my absolute favorite things about my mother is that she will ALWAYS tell me that she loves me. And frequently she will argue with me about whether or not she loves me more.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Bridges Over Troubled Water

I hate water. I can't swim, and water terrifies me.

So do bridges because they could fall down and then I'd fall into the water in my car and be trapped there while the water came rushing in and I'd die. Nevermind that most bridges are high enough that I'd almost certainly die from the fall itself - I'm fully aware of all the logical reasons why this is insane, but it doesn't really matter. I hate water.

Unfortunately there are quite a few bridges between Houston and Lake Charles.

Bean: It's a good thing I drove with all these bridges.

Me: It really wouldn't have been a big deal, because most of these bridges are over rivers and rivers are only 3 feet deep.

Bean: ??

Me: You didn't know that??

Bean: What about the ship channel??

Me: Oh no.. the ship channel is very deep, I mean look at the big ass ships they bring in there.. It's much deeper.

Bean: So you've convinced yourself that ALL rivers, including the Mississippi are only 3 feet deep, but you can't convince yourself that the ship channel is the same??

Me: Exactly.

Bean: You know you're crazy, right??

Me: Yup.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Fantabulous Weekend

Lake Charles was freaking awesome. Bean & I gambled some, then went back to the room, then gambled some, then went back to the room, then explored Lake Charles and ate some amazing sammiches (thanks Miley), then went back to the room.
We really needed this weekend.
There was just one little glitch - all the flippin bridges on the way (not to mention the massive one IN Lake Charles), but more on that later..

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Fun with Perry

If you've met me, then you know that I am NOT a morning person. And when it comes to my ex-husband, Perry, I'm not an afternoon or evening person either.

But his car broke down this week and if I help him out then he has more money to give me. So I've been sharing a car with him for the last two days (because naturally he couldn't have a broken car when Bean was off, because that might be convenient).

Now, I should not be allowed to be in the same zip code with Perry without at least two cups of VERY strong coffee in my system, and I just don't have time for that before work, so 6:15 is a freaking nightmare.

And then after work on Wednesday, we went to get Subway for dinner. Don't get me wrong, the Subway Sandwich Artist was a moron (or maybe she was just REALLY hard of hearing) and she didn't understand anything I said to her. But as soon as we got back in the car he was telling me about how she tried to make him pay twice.

What?? I was standing right there. She didn't do that. She just gave you a vacant smile and said "Huh??". Do you think that telling me some crazy version of events will change MY memory of it??

Oh, and then there was the conversation where he was telling me how dumb all the interns in his office are - he's a freaking intern*!!

Ugh. At least this week has been a very apt reminder (that I didn't need) of exactly why I divorced his sorry ass.

So incidentally, I've been feeling a little homocidal.

*He's still an intern because he has been putting off taking his tests for the last THREE years - someone tell me please what is the point of going to school for EIGHT FLIPPING YEARS if you're not going to get the license?!?!

Moving Right Along

I still miss my MP3 player. I loved that thing. But I have moved on (a little) and have app'd up my phone so that I can listen to all my music, and I replaced my car audio wire-thingy so that I can listen to it in the car.
This will have to suffice.

But if you see someone walking around with my MP3 player, please maim them just a little for me.

Gambling My Weekend Away

So the past month or so has been insane. I can hardly breathe between all the stuff for Oliver and Tallulah, not to mention Bean's stuff (did you notice that there was no "me stuff" in there - yeah)
Because it has been so crazy and because it's been so long since we've had some time totally to ourselves, Bean & I are going to Lake Charles this weekend to gamble.

You have no idea how excited I am.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Assuming that Doctor Knows Best..

I went to a new doctor for my migraines. And I am one of those people who actually read the prescription pamphlets. He put me on two new drugs to prevent migraines. One is normally used to treat high blood pressure (I have low blood pressure) and one was for depression (I may be crazy, but depressed I am not). So this leads me to wonder - WTH??
Did he read something in those 12 pages that I had to fill out that lead him to believe that depression is my problem?? And what was my blood pressure on Wednesday that made him think I needed drugs for that??
I mean yeah, I worry about everything, but my blood pressure is half of what Bean's is. And sure I blame myself for everything that goes wrong, but normally that's because it is my fault..

I'm going to choose to believe that he knows something about these drugs that I don't and let it go. For now.