something

some times i feel like I just want to write. about anything, nothing.. the same shit, different shit, the fact that I took THREE shits yesterday (true story), but just SOMETHING.

other times.. which is usually MOST of the time... I've got nothin'. well, no.. that's not true. there's ALWAYS something going on.. this is the "apollo" after all....

but who wants to hear my dribble? especially when i should be folding laundry? or finishing up the shit I owe Troy for my Stepford site?

I suppose if you're reading this, there's some part of you that IS interested in my dribble. or you're looking for a reason to laugh at me. there's usually a few morsels of asshat behavior to go around in here, so i can understand that.

but yeah... I've been blogging more or less now for what.. 5 years? still don't consider myself a BLOGGER. and apparently i still wonder why people even read this here page. (again.. the occasions to point and laugh not withstanding.) hate all the blogitics with kissing this one's ass and being that one's reader. screw that! I don't even follow TV celebrities.... forget about following normal people who blog!

nonetheless... I still hear about things. call it third party exposure, background noise, or just perhaps newsworthy shit comes your way. like that whole brad-jennifer-angelina mess. like.. i don't even know who's with who or why or even CARE.. but i know enough to know they're all connected.

so needless to say, I've been at a loss lately now even with twitter. apparently, there's been a slew of babies of people who twit that have died within the past week or so. FUCK ME RUNNING. seriously. I can't go there. I mean.. I'm still trying to function from an ADULT dying... never mind take on the emotional hell of thinking about babies passing away.

don't get me wrong.. I find it horrible and tragic and gut-wrenchingly sad... I appreciate and respect the sentiments that are going around, and the visual displays of empathy and support are more than likely very healing to those hurting the most. I have already said a few prayers for the families that are suffering, and they will most likely not be the last ones I say.

but I'm just not strong enough to take that on. And maybe that's harsh, but for the pure simple sake of our family's financial state, MY emotional state, and wanting to have SOME semblance of HAPPY left in me to give to my own children... I gotta put the blinders on.

and I KNOW that's the right thing.. the blinders... cause again... how much can I take on before it begins to take away from the ones who need me the most??? but then I feel a little guilty. like I SHOULD be doing something. as a mother! as a Christian!! as a decent person who has a moral sense!!!

so yeah.. there's a TEENY bit of guilt there that I'm not leaving comments and turning things purple in memory of someone's dead child. but my truth remains that if Rhena or Danny were to die? the entire fucking WORLD could turn purple and it wouldn't matter to me.

it just wouldn't. it would be too late.


_________

my prayers go out to those of you who are suffering from the loss of a loved one. my only hope is that those of my readers with whom I have a personal relationship with will always know in their hearts the love and support I have for them.

FOR YOU, I will dye my entire body a color to ease your suffering. I will make my daughter stay dressed for once, I will make donations, I will bake cookies and ask strangers to do strange things. I would most likely do much more, but don't want to make suggestions cause a good percentage of you may actually make me follow through on these offerings.

for my own family, I would define the word limitless.

but I will not... CAN NOT... allow death to be a starting point. forgive me for that, but I prefer to be part of your LIVES.

fixing bridges

do you ever find yourself sitting back wondering "how the hell did THAT happen?"


sometimes mistakes happen, then time passes, and uh-oh... what was a teeny mistake a while ago turns into a hot mess of hurt feelings, unspoken anger and/or uncomfortable tension.


My kids in my CCD class made their first reconciliation last month, and when I was explaining the process to a neighbor, she commented on how horrific it sounds. I mean.. on one hand.. I totally agree... being 8 years old and telling some priest all the shit you've done wrong is NOT exactly one's idea of a good time. Much less being 30-hundred years old and fessing up to your wrong-doings.

But yet... what a process, huh? just taking pause, and saying "I'm sorry." and not "sorry.. but... whatever this and that reason"

just.. "I'm Sorry." powerful stuff.


So last year, I bitched and moaned to Kerrianne and Chris for 100 years about how I wanted a felt mustache. so Christmas cheer and glory... they sent it to me!


oh.. the plans I had!!!! I made about 1 1/2 dozen mustache cookies, and was going to wear the felt 'stache' while holding the PLATE of cookies... all while sporting my new chef coat that my parents gave me for my birthday.

then I lost the mustache. ugh. THEN... I never said anything. DUH! why NOT? I dunno. I really don't know. but now that i DIDN'T.. I feel like I'm walking around with this ELEPHANT of guilt. and the funny this is I'm out trying to do a bunch of good deeds for a bunch of OTHER people.. but still not addressing the two people I screwed up with. WTF is WRONG with me?!?!?


I should just take a lesson from my class.. oh wait.. the same lesson I've been teaching THEM (oh, the irony.. it's such a cruel cruel bitch...) and just say I'm sorry. and I was GOING TO.... but then I found the mustache!

so anyways..all's fine.. just apologize already, you dumb Polack! but now... I STILL procrastinate, and feel like I can make the apology BETTER by still sending the cookies... (though not the original batch. sadly, I never got around to taking that one picture... and between me, troy, and the kids.. cookies don't survive long in these parts. )

so this weekend, I'm hoping to just kind of whip up a batch of apology cookies, and hope the valentine's day aura of love helps them forgive me. if not for the initial losing of the stache... then hopefully for me just being so dumb and not being honest about what was going on.

SO to my favorite blogging couple in Oregon? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I really do feel like a dumbass for the way I let a simple mistake escalate into a THING, and I really hope y'all will accept the long-lost stache and my apology package.




_________

speaking of cookies.. I'm hosting a valentine's contest over on the baking blog. super easy to win, so go on over....

The Guilt Trip

Y'all know I'm Catholic. and we Catholics LOVE us some guilt trips. at least I am. I am GOOOOOOOOD about guilt.


I get this mostly from my mom. She has an innate way of taking personal responsibility for just about everything. Having shitty weather? meh... it's cause my mom said something the other day. Constipated from eating too much junk food? must be my mom's fault cause she didn't cook you a meal. even though she doesn't know you.


ok... so that's exaggerating just a LITTLE... but you get the point.

Anyways.. as the whole apples-tree-and-not-falling-far saying goes.... I also tend to walk around with an extraordinary amount of guilt at any given time. did I do enough? did I say too much???

Take this morning for instance... not 10 minutes ago, I left a comment on one of my favorite blogs.... Erin Cooks. Erin is awesome.. always hosting contests (btw.. go.. enter!! free books!!) and if you recall.. she's the one who hooked me up with the free ice cream. LOVE HER for that.

She makes amazing stuff, and takes even better pictures of it. I told her once how I had to stop reading her for a while cause I caught myself wanting to lick my laptop. but seriously... love her blog.

so the comment I left remarked how it would have been nice to see some chocolate in the icing of her cookie creations. and while there was absolutely NO ill intent of what I wrote... I TOTALLY have been second guessing what I wrote. so much that I immediately stumbled her page. and started this post about guilt. BAH!

Anyways... me and guilt.. like I said and you can see... we go back. (btw... go and take a peek at her cookies.. they DO look fantastic, and you can tell her as much. and that I'm a jackass for talking about the chocolate. I totally deserve it.)


Now with the Avon Walk, I've been feeling a whole NEW set of guilt. first off... holy CRAP.... we totally blew by the $500 dollar goal in like what.. 2 days??? and donations are still coming in. The generosity and love that has been so quickly given is BEYOND humbling. I have been regularly crying with appreciation.

But yet.. now that the goal has been officially 'met'... I'm at a quandary. TRUE.. I don't HAVE to go out and seek more donations. but yet... something's.... missing. i totally do not feel like I have spoken about it enough. Because while the amount of money that has been raised so far is awe-inspiring... I feel like it should be MORE. but not MORE as in dollar amount. MORE as in number of people.


Am I really doing enough to share my vision? Is it greedy that I think people donating just ONE DOLLAR can inspire hope? and that I want MORE people to donate just that one dollar? Is it crazy to think that I CAN get 100 people just to make even the most minimal donation so my cousin and many many other women and families like her can see the VOLUME of people that believe in LIFE for her?

Part of me feels SO incredibly guilty for wanting that... that VOLUME.... because honestly??? the VOLUME that HAS been given thus far is, as I said.. humbling. I certainly wouldn't want to shadow anything that has been done so far.

but last year.. when I arrived at the walk before sunrise, and I looked around in the stadium.. I couldn't help but feel PART OF SOMETHING as I saw the hundreds of men and women that were there for the very same thing I was... that hope.

I dunno. that's where I'm at. I'm kind of percolating on an event of some sorts... either at church or local pub or grocery store where I can set up camp until I can get x-amount number of donations. Maybe charge everyone a dollar to sign a big assed banner to be hung at the walk or something.

something.


but so far??? I can not express my thanks enough. 11 donations so far representing 31 people who believe.

11 donations, and we're OVER $800. incredible. INCREDIBLE, I say!!!!


so again.. thank you to all who HAVE donated, or WILL donate. every dollar DOES make a difference. And if you have any ideas of how I can shake some of this guilt for not doing more??? I would love to hear them.


I may start off by apologizing to Erin.

just plain dull

so yesterday turned out as a success. I took apart and removed the existing wall outlet, pulled the fuse from the fuse box, replaced both with new one suited for 20 amps, then re-installed everything.


(love how I just type that like I do this kind of shit every day, right?)


anyways; I was pretty happy. I think I'll always feel extra proud when I accomplish some wiring or electrical task cause the professor I had in college for my Electrical Engineering I and II classes was a total DICK to me. It was right around graduation, and in his office, in front of another professor and 3 other students, Mr. Novy (that's right. he was just a professor; not a DOCTOR) Mr Novy made a flip remark of how I would never be successful in the aviation industry.

Now while I do understand that I did not make a lifelong career in the aviation industry, that asshole can NOT tell me I wasn't successful when I was at Boeing. And to what extent is it his right to tell ME what is successful or not? I mean, sure, we all have our standards of what measures success or not... and based on that premise I probably do not qualify as successful in his eyes.... but that does not mean I have not been successful. just ask my working garage fridge.


ahhh... that's all in the past, anyway. OVER IT!!! speaking of pasts... I have officially entered a 'scanner war' with one of my friends from college. This excites me and scares the crap out of me at the same time. as you've seen right here and by words from Suser (by the way, she's still pimping out her birthday week, so go say hi) I have plennnnnnnty of bad pictures from days of yore. I fear what may surface. I DO see this war spreading to others, though, cause as group pictures get published, I'll be bringing down everyone with me. If you're linked to me on facebook, you might get a glimpse of the horrible outfits I thought were SO COOL 100 years ago.


but other than that.. we're just surviving here in the southern heat. got a few errands to do, packages to finish, babies to visit, and of course.. laundry to do. just another day, ya know?

HIS-story repeating

ok.. I KNOW it's supposed to be HISTORY, but in this case, I do mean HIS story.

let me rewind.


as in any girl's life.. I've had my share of relationships that never quite made it. pick a reason as to why a relationship could fail or not even get started, and I could MOST LIKELY give you the name of a guy that fits the bill.

recently, I've come into contact again with one gentleman that coulda woulda shoulda but never quite did.


Ours was a story of young-ness. I wouldn't quite say love, because now that I AM in love, I look back and see that the elements that were present between us were not love. perhaps it was PERCEIVED to be love at that time.. and for some, that's enough. But today, in my world of Stepford, the Apollo, and all that makes the Fever burn like it does... THAT.. THAT relationship I had back then? THAT was not love.


so yes. ours was a story of young-ness. not necessarily YOUTH, though truth be told I was MUCH younger then. but YOUNG-NESS in that we were both so NEW in many arenas. I had recently left New Jersey, and while being thoroughly supported by my family (emotionally and financially).. I had my first taste of Independence. I was on my own. the freedoms and POWER of my CHOICES I recognized make me delirious even now.

I met a boy. I was smitten. (this is a key element repeated in just about every 'boy story' I have... but it's still important to say.) (I SAY it's important to say because there are about 100 other chapters I could tell about boys who were smitten with ME that I either failed to notice or pretended NOT TO because it would have been too much WORK on my part.)

so yeah. me. smitten.

Him?

meh... not as much. Don't get me wrong. he WAS attracted to me. he DID secretly relish in the doting I did on him. (and I knew this then because he would kiss me when no one was looking.) To me.. the chase was on.

For years I chased. I waited. I sought. I cried. I pretended I didn't care. I would get 'over him' until the next time he came around. Then I would start back over again.

everybody knew what was going on... though they pretended they didn't because on paper, he and I were 'just friends'. Hell, even *I* knew what was going on.. that I was seeking acceptance, love and recognition from someone who did not want to give it to me. DUH! oh well.. what's done is done. (where was that damn book 'he's just not that into you' when i needed it???)


a time finally came for him to move on. literally; he was moving. a particular event caused me to hit my breaking point, and when final goodbyes were attempted, he was met with a venomous spew from me that apparently was festering inside for so long and could no longer be contained. it got ugly. it WAS ugly.

it was SO UGLY, as a matter of fact, that I have actually blocked it from my memory. really; I mean, I KINDA SORTA remember being angry when he was leaving for good... but I don't remember what was said or even the year I said it. it's just kinda in this hazy 'grey' time in my memory.

and it's not that I refuse to remember myself being mean to someone. no.. I know I have been QUITE the bitch a few times in my life. some occasions I remember every detail. and perhaps for a while I remembered every detail of that altercation. but now? I just remember that we left things not so warm and fuzzy, and that I received a note from him a short while after from him saying he wished never to hear from me again.

anyways... that was lifetimes ago. really. three, in particular... as the additions of Troy, Rhena and Danny to my life have changed the way I view my present, past, and future.

So, long story short (I know.. too late!) I reconnected with the gentleman I just spoke of.


(cue dramatic music, right?)

I guess maybe because I'm in SUCH a different place than I was back then. I guess because I DON'T remember things as clearly as I could. and, I guess I tried to reconnect because I recognize that everyone FROM my past helped to shape me to be the woman I am today. and yeah.. y'all know I bitch a LOT on here, but I do SO VERY LOVE my life.

Generally speaking? I remember this gentleman as a friend whom I have SO MANY SHARED memories with. GOOD memories! FRIENDS! LIFE!!! MOMENTS! GOOD moments!!!

I thought since "we's all grown up now" that I would be able to say hi, bury the hatchet, and get along famously going forward, and have our kids be friends and play great music together over dinner like they do in the movies.

(this is where I'm supposed to realize that life is NOT like the movies)

So we e-mail a few times, and it would appear that we're both doing wonderfully now, and we are both truly happy for one another, and all past misgivings on both parts are forgiven (though if you're reading this blog, PLEASE feel free to be immature and take my side and say that there was nothing for him to forgive cause he deserved any earful he finally got after too many years of putting up with his shit) uh. yeah. all is forgiven.


So I EARNESTLY put it out there that I would very much like for us (meaning our families) to be friends going forward. but as I was writing the e-mail recently.. it hit me.

history.. HIS story... was repeating. HE doesn't want to be friends with me!!!


well, I gotta tell ya. I must be dumb as bricks, cause I ALWAYS seem to be the last one to catch the clue when someone doesn't want to be my friend. I'm surprised I even finished the e-mail to him.... cause seriously, the concept came on like a damn floodlight in a closet. He already got what he needed from me.. he got some closure on his past, and now thank you.. he'll be going again. but yet.. here I am.. once again.. chasing after his acceptance.


and for WHAT? it's not like I NEED his acceptance. perhaps my inner Martha craves that 'smooth finish' to everything. Perhaps I crave honkey-doriness and happy endings cause it makes ME look good? maybe the friendship.. a REAL friendship.. would be the closure or ultimate reward for my years of feeling artificial and not important enough?

so anyways.. that was my thought process as I was writing the note to him. But a few days later.. I have a different perspective. or at the very least am back to my original perspective before digging deep and rehashing past thoughts and emotions.


my perspective is this. I can't be friends with everyone. I don't WANT to be friends with everyone. and friends (or people or characters or acquaintances.. whatever you choose to label them) come and go in one's lifetime. At any given time, another person can serve a purpose and/or have a place in an other's life.

sometimes people have a place AND serve a purpose.. sometimes people serve purpose despite NOT having a place in one's life.

This particular guy certainly served a purpose in my life. after my time with him, I never dated a guy again that felt he should comment about my weight, and I refused to date men that tried to keep our relationship a secret. Those are two very big things to me because of that relationship. and believe you me.. despite ALL the dumb shit troy says.. he KNOWS not to say a DAMN THING if I go for a second piece of cake... and he will never NOT recognize me and/or our relationship; regardless of the setting. see? purpose.


anyways... I have yet to hear back from the long-ago beau. It's only been a few days, but I don't think I ever will. Which, really.. on one hand is a shame.. cause I DO think we'd get along famously and our kids COULD be friends. But on the other.. how can I not respect someone else that has the courage to recognize when there just isn't a place for someone in their life?

I know for sure I don't want anyone in MY life that doesn't want me in theirs.



---------------------

speaking of friends!!! get ready for a new music topic!! Mix-tape theme will be up at midnight (EST) and open for contributions!

Slum Lord

Nothing like starting your day by kicking two expectant parents out of their home.


I am officially the worst landlord around. ok, maybe tied with troy.


So yeah. turns out two birds were building a nest. IN our grill.


I'm all about letting birds be birds and having the kids excited about seeing eggs and nests and all that 'nature' shit....


but I HAVE to believe the guilt I feel now for kicking them out of and burning their home would be FAR less than what guilt I would feel the next time we do up a steak and get a side of fried eggs.



just saying.


.

Open Letter

To the woman with the two daughters at Harris Teeter today?

THANK YOU. Thank you for teaching your daughters to be KIND to little girls who like to dress themselves because they truly believe they are ballerina princesses. Even when that self-proclaimed famous ballerina princess outfit means a turquoise dress, orange socks, pink glittery shoes and a pointy fair-maiden hat.

Your daughters smiling at Rhena and telling her she's "a beautiful princess indeed" was heartwarming and kind. I hope to teach my children to be as encouraging to others as they get older.

_______________


and to the OTHER woman with two daughters at Harris Teeter today?

SHAME ON YOU. watching your girls huddle, whisper,and POINT at a child younger than them sends a message of endorsement. Perhaps if YOU smiled more and taught your children some manners you wouldn't have to tell your girls to stop touching the food on display in the salad bar, and you would have to maybe threaten to 'straighten them out' one or two less times a day.


Now perhaps I'm just as bad judging you anonymously online... so for that I'll stop now... but the pointing?? NOT NICE.

oh and by the way? I hope that the turkey you insisted to the deli clerk be MUCH THINNER gives you GAS, bitch! BIG, stinky GAS!!!!

I just can't make this stuff up

I hurt my foot again.

I KNOW!!!!


the GOOD news is that the injured foot to which I'm currently referring to is NOT the foot that sustained the broken toe. no... I'm an equal-opportunity klutz, and jacked up my LEFT foot last night.


so it goes like this....


last night the kids and I went out to eat with my folks. being that Danny was a bit skoodgey the whole day... it seemed like a good idea to bring the kids home, toss their asses in the bath and put him down for the night. He's a happy boy in general.. but when the happy boy does not get enough sleep or naps too early or doesn't poop for a day or so (or even worse.. ALL of the above!) well... happy he AIN'T.


so blabbity blah... baths are done. awesome. their daddy is called, messages are left, kids are donned in their pjs, and I see the light at the end of the tunnel.


I bring the kids downstairs so my mom can watch them while I assemble the bathroom back to its original pre-bath condition. To do so requires mopping up the water that had been splashed around, collecting the bath toys, removing the bath mat, then putting the shower doors back on their tracks.

so whatever.. I mop, I collect, then I get one door on. crap. forgot the bath mat. ok. remove the bath mat, time for the final door.


hmmm. hands are wet from the bath mat. I pause for a moment cause (here's the real kicker) I thought that since my hands were wet, by holding the shower doors on the sides like I normally do.. my wet hands would cause the door to slip. SO..... I look at the towel bar; debate its strength, lift it a few inches with a little shake... then figure it'll be ok, and begin to lift it the 2 feet needed to put it back on its track.


it wasn't strong enough.


faaaaaaaaaahck!!!! big plexi-glass-framed with metal door came sliding down on the bridge of my left foot. oh, I saw light; it just was different than that end-of-tunnel one. I also saw a LOT of curse words fly out of my mouth and fill the bathroom like speech bubbles on the old-school batman fights.


please do not think that I have missed the irony that I spent more time FALSELY debating the strength of the attachable towel rack to support the weight of the door than doing the SMART thing which would have been to just DRY my hands first. dumbass.


also not missed is that the jacked-up toe was finally starting to feel better (notice I did not say LOOK better) and I have been able to wear shoes for more than a few hours at a time without being in pain. and now I can't wear shoes again.


another funny point to ponder in my world of humor is that the reason why my hands were wet was from removing the BATHMAT... created, purchased and USED to make bathing the children more SAFE.


oh well. and so it goes. on a good note, the towel bar probably slowed the door enough such that I didn't actually dismember half of my foot. so yay for still having my foot. my bruised, swollen, sliced, and in-pain foot.



.

Erin go BLAH

sorry gang. today has just been one of those days. not necessarily a BAD day.. just frigging BUSY. ok, and maybe not that great, either.

Troy thankfully DID come home to watch the kids for CCD, but I had promised that Rhena could come with me tonight. I came home to troy on the computer, ass-deep in tax stuff, and Danny upstairs crying. (did I mention he is cutting NO LESS than 6 teeth maybe 8 right now? all four molars and the canine teeth are coming in)

which means it's all on me to soothe danny (done) do rhena's bedtime, and when I'm done with that (she's making peeps right now so I have a minute or 5 to be bitching here) I have to pack up the easter goodies for her class tomorrow, OH, and clean my car cause one of the dishes I made for my teaching partner (her husband is out of town for over a month now... trying to cut her a break when possible).. yeah.. the dish?? leaked a thin cheese sauce ALL OVER. gah.


oh, but that's ok, cause now rhena's calling for me and troy's pissed because HE told me one thing AND SWEARS he said something completely different.

I'm gonna take my green off and pray that someone pinches me. Maybe it'll wake my ass up from this nightmare of an evening I seem to be having..

Playing Games

ok. if I HAVEN'T said it already, or if you are slow to the chase and haven't figured it out... I have issues.


this whole weight-loss competition I have going with Troy is a BITCH.


I say this because Troy disappears at will to spend time at the gym sweating away whatever evils he might have consumed during the past week.


me on the other hand.... well... if I want to lose weight, I cry. (water weight, right?) or drink lots of coffee so I can shit like a man... which usually ends up with me just crying FASTER... due to the caffiene.


I say most of this in jest. I'm actually getting back into the WW zone. I've come to accept my fate of smaller portions being the healthier option for a person my age and size. or rather, what my size SHOULD be. bleh. to be a few inches taller and 10 years younger!!!


anyways.. I lost last week. the weekly challenge that is. I mean, yes, I lost my standard point-six pounds... but troy definitely lost more weight... so I got bathroom duty. I'm not even going to talk about how I got bleach on new pants while cleaning the bathrooms yesterday.. cause any PRACTICAL person would NOT wear new pants while scrubbing toilets... so yeah. not going there.


I'm ALMOST feeling good about tomorrow's weigh-in, though. knowing troy, he'll bust out with like a 3 pound loss, but as of right now, I think I might break my point-six cycle. after eating breakfast (quiche and coffee), and weighing myself fully dressed (with a sweater, jeans and SHOES on) I am only up point-four pounds from last week's weigh-in. SURELY tomorrow when I wake up, empty the bladder and wear my lightest-fabric pjs... I will be lighter on the scale.


of course... I also plan to add extra cheese to the burrito I'll make for troy when he gets home from the gym. cause you know... every little bit helps. :)

oh, and did I say that this week's loser has to do ALL of the laundry for one week? washed, folded, AND put away? I know this is something I usually do anyway.. but the idea of troy having to do it... and I mean a good solid week's worth.. not just the one or two loads a month he does... well... call me evil.. but that just sounds delicious.


I thought about if I won that I would leave all my laundry scattered around the bedroom and closet and bathroom like he does, and make him go on a daily scouting mission so our son does not start chewing on dirty undergarments (GAG!)... but I will be a good winner (if I win). I WILL put all my clothes in the hamper where they belong.

and if I lose... well... balls to that. I really am hoping to win this week. maybe I'll use the full-fat sour cream in his lunch, too. no. extra cheese. definitely extra cheese. between the fat, calories, and the possible bonus of constipation... I really stand the chance to win this week.


stay tuned for tomorrow's results!

FYI

if you EVER happen to decide to clean my garage and accidentally knock over Troy's motorcycle...


might I suggest NOT attempting to hold it up for over 30 minutes to prevent it from getting scratched on the ground? really.. you'll just end up hurting your back.


also.. might I offer the advise that if you, too, are wearing flip-flops while your feet are slightly wet that there's PROBABLY no chance in hell you will be able to lift the 800+ pound bike into its upright position during that half hour of profuse sweating, praying, cursing and straining.... until, of course, someone walks by and runs to your aide because they're convinced that the screaming child they hear is pinned under said bike?


yeah. let's just say yesterday was NOT one of my finer moments.


the garage looks great, though... and no.. no scratches on the bike.

Oh, and another thing...

To the lady in Barnes and Noble today???


Yeah, you know who you are! you have one MIGHTY big set giving ME a dirty look because I asked your child if he needed help reaching something.

MAYBE if your FAT ASS wasn't 3 aisles over talking ON THE PHONE, you MIGHT have just noticed that your own little jack-be-nimble was STANDING on the THIRD SHELF.

Seriously... next time you think of giving that look to me again, it better be because I just went up to your ugly mug and told you that you're a negligent pig-farmer* with HORRIBLE taste in clothes. Put your phone away and take your kid to a damn playground where things are MEANT to be climbed on!




-------
* please note that no actual pig farmers were harmed in the making of this post...

...And down will come baby....

...changing table and all.



so let me preface this post by saying that he's ok.



long story short, Danny ended up head-first into his hamper last night, despite being buckled into his changing table. (I needed a clean onesie and his pjs, but because I just did laundry that day, they were in a basket in rhena's room, so I gave danny a toy, strapped his ass down into the changing pad, and headed to rhena's room for the change of clothes. as I was walking back to danny's room, I heard a sickening THUD. I discovered Danny head-first in his empty hamper, changing pad still on the table, strap still buckled shut.)

After I pulled him out, stripped him down to his diaper to check for broken or bruised anythings, I did cry for about an hour... him? maybe a minute, if that.


Overall, I am just completely exhausted today. from the emotional stress, to the physical wear and tear of not sleeping, because I was at his crib-side for any and all noises he made last night.

I am BEYOND thankful for his well being (not a scratch, bump or bruise!) , for Troy being the best husband and father EVER (not only did he take care of Rhena, but calmed MY hysterical ass down and not once tried to pull the 'how the fuck did you let THAT happen' card on me), for having a pediatrician as a friend and next-door neighbor (she gave danny a full exam and told me exactly how to monitor him throughout the evening) and just thankful in general because he is my precious baby Daniel, and I would just as soon have my own skin ripped off than to see him hurt in any way.


I'll be back to my regular bitching and moaning tomorrow. today I'm just going to be thankful. and you know... change Danny on the floor.

pulse point

yeah, yeah... I'm still here.


good news, Susie had her baby boy last Friday... all is well. We here at the Fever are totally in love already, and we haven't even met him yet!

Seamus Daniel.

(that's pronounced Shay-mus, for all you non-Irish folk out there)

congrats to my Lovah and her entire family. Truly, they are blessed.



ok. moving on.

Camp "Keep the panties dry" is thriving. there have been many many funny sayings these last few weeks alone, and I almost wish I had written them down. However, given Rhena's insistence of just how "berry punny" she is, I don't think we're at the end of her off-the-cuff remarks. I almost think I need to start another blog entitled "Actually..." where the entries would all consist of her sayings.

but that's an ALMOST. cause doing so would require more work on my part, and in case you can't tell.. I'm not exactly pumping out the writing over here these days. so yeah. almost.


I've been missing things lately. and not the missing things like last year when rhena would hijack things from my vanity drawer and hide them.. I mean people.

My friends. I really REALLY miss my friends.


BTW---- Debbie J--- seeking an echo, momma. e-mail me your number in colorado... please!


I've been so busy with trying to get through each day that I've once again disappeared off the map. And the only thing that I can honestly say I've gained is the insight as to why everyone nags couples about when they're going to have kids.

I THINK.. and I could be wrong.. but I THINK the reason why so many people (read as 'established couples with children of their own') constantly badger other people (read as 'single people or newly formed-slash-newly-married-but-still-no-kids-couples) about when they will have kids is not because they love a good baby story.. it's cause they're looking to absolve some of their own GUILT!!

people... I've become a REAL ASSHOLE. I am SO CONSUMED with my own life, that I have NOT been a good friend. I've missed birthdays, weddings, graduations, parties, housewarmings... you name it. but a-hah!!! when the 'miss-ee' has children.. THEY UNDERSTAND why you're a total fart-knocker and haven't been around on the regular. Most of the time, cause they've been there/done that/still doing that themselves, and realize that when you only get 15 minutes of silence a day between the hours of 6:30am and 7pm (wait, no.. baby's crying again.. ok... 8pm.. oh, wait, no.. there he goes again, shit.. make that NINEpm) anyways.. when free time is limited...it's understandable when you miss shit.

So to all of the two readers I have out there that haven't been scared off by my redundant tales of mommy-dom... just know that if someone asks you when you're having kids.. it's most likely cause they feel like a jackass for forgetting you, and want you to have kids to even the score a little.


well, except me. it's no secret that I've been missing shit cause my head has been up my ass for a while now. And I really do love a good baby story.


hope all is well, everyone. I need to go fishing under the couch for some lost toys. and maybe my sanity. I know it's got to be around here SOMEWHERE.

The most expensive week EVER

ever have one of those weeks where shit just can't HELP but to fall apart all around you???


yeah.



so things started last week when our washing machine broke. on thursday. apparently, God decided that draining the water from the washer's drum would make shit a little too easy here at the appollo... so here I am, with a screaming moose and pooping boogie, and a shitload of water in the machine that won't drain. oh, and my folks on the way. sweet.

fine fine... take care of the kids... call sears and schedule an appointment for someone to come fix the damn thing, and finish cleaning the house so my parents don't personally witness what a chaotic mess the house can become.

sears says no one can come until monday. fine. well, not really fine, cause did I mention the screaming moose and pooping boogie? I'm pretty sure we have enough clothes to get us throuh til monday, barring any major illnesses and atomic spills, so let's just pray the machine will be fixed on monday.


ok fine. folks get in, and visiting begins. all is fine.


staurday morning, troy, my dad, and I go about roto-tilling the back yard so that we may assemble the son of satan... I mean this playset. 2 days of HARD ASSED labor, rhena's park was erected. did I mention the 40 bags of regular bark mulch and THIRTY bags of rubberized playground mulch??

yeah.. so anyway...

Monday, Troy's car kinda died on the way home from work. when I was cooking dinner. while my folks are here. ... the good news is that he was able to get it going and got home safely... more importantly, without us having to call a tow, and me truck my ass to the interstate to get him.

so tuesday didn't fare as well, cause the car REALLY died on his way to work. got it towed to the local honda dealer, and we waited on an estimate. the initial estimate came back at $600+ dollars to fix the timing belt and some other oil leaks. yeah yeah.. better than having to buy a new car... go ahead and fix the damn thing.

well.. I guess when they actually got under the hood to look at the stuff, it turns out shit was melted and fused together and now the DETAILED estimate of work was in the ballpark of $5k.


uh.. can I get a giant FUUUUUCK!!????!!!!

24 hours full of crying, heartburn, stress, more crying (this time by the kids, not me), ANOTHER missed bunco... we are now the owners of this truck.

I need a nap. and a night out. and then maybe another nap.

but now the chilluns are up, and it's go time again.

oh... remind me later to tell you about how you shouldn't leave standing water in your broken washing machine for 4 days while waiting for the repairman, cause your whole house and 50 ft perimeter of such will smell like rotten eggs. and as you pay the repair guy $250, you wonder if you'll ever walk into your house again without the smell of putrid ASS choking you.

Bad Parent "to-do" List

so I believe Susie was the one who mentioned this list, but I know for damn sure I hit about like six different things this morning.


you see folks... in my last days of the 'easy' life of parenting only one child... I managed to scare the living SHIT out of my daughter this morning. why? how? you ask?


well.. WHY... cause I'm stupid stupid stupid. let me repeat. STUPID STUPID STUPID. just plain stupidity on my part......


as for the HOW...... EVERYONE and my mother has seen this website where you try to notice the differences between the pictures. and you're staring and you're looking, then WHAM... the chick from the Exorcist or some equally freaky face blares out at you while jacking your speakers up to a sonic-boom volume.

dude. don't TELL me you haven't seen it at least once. if you haven't, then I beg you to come out of that rock you're obviously living under. but I digress.


so I've seen this shit like 100 times... AT LEAST.


yet.... I clicked on it. and the starting pictures were different then ones I've seen before, so I thought maybe just maybe this really WAS a count the difference thing. (you see, I was actually just on the computer trying to order some Polish Christmas Ornaments for the Aunts up in Jersey for Christmas this year, then I was distracted waiting for the Polish site to come up, so I was just clicking through e-mails and what not...)

so OF COURSE...... in walks Rhena as the 'count the difference' website is up, and JUST as she rounds the desk to see what Mom-muh is doing on the computer... evil-bitch-face pops up and starts blaring my speakers.


I am an asshole. I am stupid stupid stupid, and my poor baby got the fishsticks-for-dinner scared right out of her.

just pencil my name on that "shitty parent but having another child" membership roster while you're at it. I know I really deserve to have a rough labor after today.... or at the very least.... get kicked out of Stepford.

independence

hey gang. hope the fourth day of the seventh month has been good to you.

So I imagine that the 4th of July means different things to different people, and whether those different things to different people run of the patriotic vein or not... today definitely makes me be cognizant of independence. I mean.. Makes sense.. independence day and all, right?


anyways... blahbitty blah.


haven't blogged since last week, cause the folks have been in town. It's funny.. or not funny funny as in funny like a clown (although clowns are pretty freaky to me, but just quoting from goodfellas)

ANYWAY... I find it funny that I have spent my whole life trying to claim my independence from my folks, and now... one or two (or 20 or so) years later.. I'm just trying to enjoy them.

now before you go off thinking they're gonna die or anything.. all seems to be well with the parentals. sure, mom's knees pretty much suck for her... but they're pretty vibrant and I doubt they'll be pushing daisies anytime soon.

but I was just thinking today, on our country's day of celebrating independence... that it's no longer my main priority in life to prove to everyone how I'm my own person. Every once in a while I even catch myself taking pause to reference from whom and where I came from. again... far cry from my staunchly independent self just a few moons ago.


so yeah.. been thinking about that kind of stuff today, and out of nowhere, I get an e-mail (today) from a girl I went to high school with. I'm going to call her CC.... simply cause I don't think it's cool to use other people's real and full names on my blog without their knowledge. Turns out she chanced upon my blog, and she took time to send me an e-mail. Now, I suppose that's not anything shocking or spectacular... my maiden name is czernikowski, and I imagine I'm quite easy to find on the web if you can string those 12 letters in the right combination.

The particular point to my verbal spew tonight is that CC is one of those people from high school you just never forget.

everyone can remember SOMEONE from high school. whether because they were pretty, or fat, or funny, or the biggest dork, or the biggest whatever... there will always be individuals that stick in your head, regardless of how long it's been since you were in high school, or whether or not you kept in touch.

CC was one of those people for me. Now before y'all go assuming she has a third eye or walked like a farm animal or some other weird characteristic (cause let's face it, that's the kind of shit NO ONE can forget. sorry to disappoint; she was and still is, I imagine... a very lovely young woman. nothing crazy to make her stick out, I swear!!)... I remember her because one day... very close to graduation, in our second period advanced English class... I was a very opinionated bitch to her, and I think I hurt her feelings.


so let's set the stage. a few of us were talking about what we were going to do after graduation (meaning college and career paths, etc) and CC or someone else said something to the effect of missing everyone from high school. I, ever being the bitch I can be... coldly said something to the effect of not thinking I'll miss anyone because the only thing we had in common was that we were born in the same town. I remember CC looking as if she were personally struck that I said such a thing.

now.. the mind.. Especially one like mine which has done my fair share of killing brain cells.. tends to distort memories and reshape in such a way that often we remember things the way we want to remember them. SO taking what I say with a grain of salt... just understand that this is how I remember how shit went down.


some 15 years later, I still remember that conversation. again.. not verbatim, but yet... it has stuck with me all these years because it is the truth. It was how I felt at the time, how I felt through college, and pretty much how I feel now, some what.. 15 years later?

BUT... and here's the rub.... the statement I made was absolute and cold. I have since learned SOME tact (ability to EXERCISE aforementioned skill still may be not my strong suit... but I have nonetheless learned about it). AND.... all these years later... I see my younger self and my younger peers with different eyes.

Perhaps I DID have more in common with my schoolmates than I brazenly avoided giving them credit for. I mean.. we were all essentially a bunch of stupid kids on the verge of trying to figure out our lives. We shared... whether or not we knew it.. the same anxieties of the opposite sex, our own successes and what the future would hold.

But I was too hell-bent on declaring my independence (and good riddance) to anything and everything Sayreville (yes.. to this day, I'm still not a huge bon-jovi fan for that reason.. I simply declared his music as CRAP many years ago, and never thought to give it much of a chance) anyways.. too hell bent on declaring independence to think about MISSING anyone.

Don't read me wrong, gang... this is not a blog in which I profoundly say I did it all wrong and want to go back.... I LOVE my life. I'm SO HAPPY with who I am and where I am that I can't possibly believe that the path which has brought me here can be anything BUT the right path. And to be perfectly honest... I DIDN'T miss anyone. I've never had a desire to go to a class reunion, and have never uttered the phrase "I wish I could do it again."


FUCK THAT. But still... I'm a little older (wiser? softer?) now... and the last chamber of my heart that still beats warm blood recognizes that there WERE good people that I went to high school with, and I'd be lying to say that I wasn't just SLIGHTLY curious of what has become of everyone. I AM curious of what CC has done in her life. I see her as a doctor of some type. she was always very smart, and had a quiet friendly calm about her... I see that translating into good bedside manner.


but whatever. I ramble.



CC's note was an interesting surprise for me today, and reminded me how I learned that day that even when going forward, you don't need to be a bitch to the ones you're leaving behind. of course I never admitted that out loud until tonight, but somehow the feeling I got after that conversation that day always sat in the back of my brain whispering "you don't have to be such a bitch about it, Carrie!!" as I forged ahead with my independence.

now I'm not saying I've always been nice... cause you KNOW my ass is still bitch royale on wheels..... but I do try to not burn any bridges... so to speak.


so anyways. that's my ramble for tonight. I'm proud to say I'm an independent woman. YESSSS, I'm also co-dependent..... I'm married, and I no longer have a professional money-paying job, my parents still do SO MUCH for me, etc etc...... but I firmly believe I am still independent. The funny thing is that I always have been a little bit of both my whole life. I just didn't realize that it was possible until just a few years ago. I guess it's better late than never, huh?


Happy independence day, gang.... may your freedoms ring loud and clear.

Things don't change THAT much

It seems like the one common saying I've heard throughout my 7 1/2 month sentence of parasiteville is that (cue the music)


THINGS WILL CHANGE...

when the baby is born. Like some Ominous Cloud will form the day the monster is pushed out---- water will separate, four guys on horses will come riding in--- oh wait. wrong monster.


But seriously--- everyone seems to be under the adage that having a baby changes everything. Don't get me wrong; I appreciate the immature thought behind this saying. I realize that a LIFE will be dependent on my husband and me for the next 60+ years, be it physically, emotionally, FINANCIALLY, or some combination of all aforementioned and more.

But HOW freaking stupid do you have to be to think that it happens when the uterine growth finally comes out?????


while I'm at it--- how unconscious does someone have to be to not recognize that life changes ANY time something is added or deleted to one's life? Am I the only one who took Algebra?????


LIFE changes when you learn how to walk. Life CHANGES when you learn how to drive. When you learn about the opposite sex. when you go to college. when you move out. when--- GASP---- you have to pay bills. (on your own, that is....)


Not to throw a big "neener neener" at the world of ignorants, but seriously--- NO SHIT, SHERLOCK! My life changed the minute I knew I was going to marry Troy. No more independent-thinking 'oh he's just some guy I know' thinking for me. This man became my partner. I knew and accepted the challenges of compromise, forgiveness, give and take WELL before I walked down the aisle.

SO why should things be so drastically different with a child? my life changed the minute I knew I wanted to be a mother someday. It changed when my husband and I decided we wanted to go forward and BRING a child into this world. It changed when I turned around after flushing one day to see a blaring pink line on a piss stick.

I guess what I'm saying is you really have to be under a rock to think that things will change drastically once a baby is born. there is no ON/OFF switch or magic lamp that turns on when a baby arrives. In my opinion, it's kinda like a sunrise. --- God isn't stupid, ya know.... I think He was on to something when He made pregnancy last 9 months, kids not walk until after they've been crawling, and several other small wonders beyond this blog. In other words, dear reader--- shit's changing all the time.

If you can't tell the changes that go on in your life on a regular basis, well, I guess you're one of those wise sages that runs around telling people like me about the major changes coming my way. --- Do me a favor, will you? Go home and wait for someone to turn a light on for you. At the very least, there'll be one less shitty driver on the road for me to worry about.