I will be ok.

I will be ok.

I have been taking things people say to me, way too much to heart lately. And I mean way too much. I need to relax a bit. I need to not spazz so much.

It's hard though. Being hormonal? Sure, that has a ton to do with it, but besides that, why am I such a big baby about shit? Why do I feel the need to defend everything I do, say or think, just because someone makes a comment about something stupid or silly or even just different than my own opinions?

I do it constantly with my mother in law, I do it with friends, I do it with my husband, I do it even with people I do not know.

Know what scares me the most? That after this baby is born, I am petrified I will get post partum depression again. I suffered horribly after the birth of my son. I suffered after the birth of my daughter, and ignored it. I was miserable for years, even taking to trying to numb myself with forms of stupidity I will not even dare post on here. But, after the birth of my son, I told the doctor. I sought help. I got help. I was on antidepressants for over 2 years, and then realized that they were not for me anymore. I was having what seemed like a relapse, an adverse reaction to the drugs. What seemed to help me at one time was not helping me anymore. I needed to get off of the drugs. So I weaned myself. It took me a year to do so, but as I did, I felt so much better. I felt like myself. I was not in the funk I was once in.

To wean off of them made me seriously ill. Seriously physically ill. I had tremors, sweats, nausea, brain zaps. The most sickening feelings I have ever experienced. I hung in there, though. And it all went away and when it did, I was me again.

I became a horny woman, I wanted my husband. I could feel again. I could think clearly, and not be in a medicated fuzz. I was me! And soon after being me!!! mee!!!! Meeee!!!!! I got pregnant. And then I freaked. What if's flying around my head "what if my hormones make me need the meds again?... what if the pregnancy makes me relapse again? What if this and what if that?" But I hung in there. I just rode it out. I rode it out with a hand on my hip and my head held up high and I told my depression, you aint fucking wanted here anymore. You are gone.

But depression has always reared it's monstrous and ugly head in my life. It knows when I am most vulnerable, it waits like a vulture above me. It waits for me to just cave into my shell.

I refuse to cave in. I must remind myself of that, when I am sleep deprived with a newborn, a three year old and a six year old. I will never give in to that ugly monster. I will not let it feed on me.

Spoon Girl has a mama, watch it!

Spoon Girl has a mama, watch it!

My kid came home today upset. When you have a kid, and they are upset, you feel it, you live it, you want to make it go away for them. She told me some boys at her table said she drew trees like green spoons. My kid is quiet, she doesn't bother anyone. I want those boys heads on a platter.

I told her "next time they tell you that, tell them "GODAMN RIGHT! THE BEST SPOONS THIS SIDE OF THE COUNTRY, ASSHOLES!"
No. I didn't say that. But I told her to tell them to not to worry about her trees. And if they kept it up to tell her teacher they were teasing her. But she doesn't want to make anyone mad at her. I want to beat those boys. Asshole boys. Don't make fun of my spoon girl.

I told her they probably liked her trees, and wished they could draw trees like that and therefore, made fun of her trees instead. She looked at me sideways and said "ok, can I have a brownie?" If she can eat a brownie and forget after venting, why can't I let it go? Because she is my baby. My princess. My twinkle butt. She has been my twinkle butt since she was born, and will be my twinkle butt when she is 50. And from boys making fun of her spoon trees, to boys breaking her heart, to her being in a relationship when she is 30 friggin years old and having problems, whatever hurts her, hurts me ten katrillion times more.

My baby girl. I just want to smoosh her and love her and put her in a bubble when things like this happen.
Now, mama needs a brownie.


On to other news of motherly love...
Cletus the fetus seems to like it in there very much. I don't think he is gonna come out before the 8th. I had some appointments today, I had to take little man with me and take a bus, and walk some ways, then I had to walk to the store and get some stuff, get back on a bus, and walk to get Mimi from school because she had early dismissal, you would think all that walking, would make a huge woman whale go into labor? No. Cletus was fine. FINE OH FINE OH FINE. He was in there loving the rocking back and forth of my wobbling waddling ass. He is going to be an easy sleeper. Just rock him back and forth and back and forth and waddle like a duck and I swear he will be as content as content can be. He likes his wombly surroundings. I have a feeling when they pull him out of there and into the light he is gonna scream "WHAT THE FUCK MAN! TURN THAT SHIT OFF! I WAS COMFORTABLE IN HERE! PUT ME BACK!" He is a Libra. He was destined to be so. And he will not accomadate my whining, just because.

My three year old son feels my pain. As I laid on the couch he came over, sat next to me, stroked my hair and said "Me make you all bettoh, mommy. Me takey the Ryan brother out...." and he proceeded to pretend to pull and push on my belly and held his hands up in the air ala Lion King style.
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-so vennnnnaaaahhhhhh---- Hammmmaa cheeeecchie mooooo maaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Nothing Doing...

Nothing Doing

I haven't been on here very much.
What else can I say? I am huge and pregnant, I have two kids who wipe the energy out of me like demons sucking energy out of me, and I just don't feel like writing.

I want this baby out. I have two weeks before I get him out. That is too long. I want to lay in a hospital bed and eat hospital food and look at my wrinkled little pretzel baby as he stretches out his limbs and squints and makes squishy faces, while people come and hold him and tell me "you look good!" even though I won't look good after having a third Csection and my tubes tied.
Yes. I want that.

I want to come home, and have my mom cook and clean for me and me lay there with my newborn and my other kids playing while gramma cooks and spoils them and they leave me THE HELL ALONE. I want that. Yes, how I want that.

But nooooooooooooooooooooooooo. I have to wait 2 more weeks. Haven't I waited ENOUGH? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I HAVE BEEN PATIENT MORE THAN PATIENT CAN BE. I will rape my husband later and hope he lances my bag of waters. I want a sapphire baby anyway, I don't like pink birthstones for boys.

Yup, her ass did it again.

Yup, her ass did it again.



I am sickened. Just sickened. This insanity must stop. Jho, now Smears? I just threw up a little in my mouth....

Entertainment - Reuters Celebrity/Gossip


Britney Spears Reportedly Marries in California

Sun Sep 19, 1:26 PM ET


LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Ooops! Pop star Britney Spears (news) did it again and got married for the second time this year -- this time to dancer Kevin Federline in a private ceremony in Studio City, California, "Access Hollywood" reported on Sunday.


Reuters Photo


AP Photo
Slideshow: Britney Spears




Spears, 22, and Federline, 26, surprised their parents with the unexpected ceremony, which took place in a private residence, according to a publicist for the syndicated entertainment news program.


On Jan. 2 year Spears married high school sweetheart Jason Alexander (news) in an impromptu ceremony in Las Vegas. But the ill-fated marriage was annulled on Jan. 5.


Spears and Federline announced their engagement in June. Federline has two children with former girlfriend Shar Jackson.

so much...

So Much...

The passed few days have been such a myriad of events, I dont even know if I am using that word in the right context, but oh well.

I have been through stupid shit, and stupid people. Such is life. Such Much. Right?

My husband and I have been through ups and downs. Emotional, marital, you name it. We had it out last night over stupid shit. We both exploded. It was ugly. Now it's not. Kinda like a hurricane. Hurricane Marriage.

Besides that bullshit, we were then able to go to Mimi's school Open House. They had each child give their family a tour of the building, and Miss Mimi was very much the tour guide. That kid is hilarious. She makes me laugh so hard.

Keifer has this obsession with an old Power Puff Girls backpack of hers, that he fills with toys and such, and he has to take it with him everytime we go to her school, well, last night was no exception. As he got out of the car and strapped it to his back she goes "Great, again with the backpack, my friends will think I am from a freak family!" I was like "Come on now, he wants to feel like a school kid, he just wants to be like you, he looks up to you, don't make fun of him." She goes ..." Mom I love him, but the backpack has to go..." The backpack stayed, on his back, and he did just fine thank you.

I was impressed with the computers and the new things they have in her classroom. The school was redone after being closed for 17 years, and they did an awesome job. Everything new. Everyone bright eyed and bushy tailed, the kids, the teachers, the walls, the bathrooms, the floors. The playgrounds are new and smell like new. The gym gleaming like a diamond with freshness. Mimi knew all her teachers names, and they all knew her. Her gym teacher, her art teacher, her music teacher, her librarian. The principal even said "Hey! It's Mimi and her family!". My husband and I just looked at each other. Miss Mimi is more outgoing than I gave her credit for. Very different from my little wallflower a couple of years ago.

At the end of the Open house they gave each child a daffodil bulb to plant in the school garden for next spring. They called it the student garden. They let Keifer plant one next to Mimi, and he was soooo into it. I wish I woulda taken the camera. So, next spring, there will be two little daffodils next to each other planted by my kids, how sweet is that? I was glad we went. I almost didn't. But this gave us all a chance to go together as a family, and for Mimi to show off her new school. She was so proud. I love to see her like that. I love to see her thriving.

On to baby news... my doctor has scheduled the Csection for October 8th. In three weeks I will be well medicated in a hospital room, with a new little fresh bundle of sweet joy. I can not believe where this time has gone.

I can not believe I am having my second son and third child. I can not believe, that I am going to finally see him and hold him and smell him.

You spend nine months waiting to see this little person inside of you, you have no idea what characteristics they have, what personality they have, what color hair or eyes they have, and then one day, the monotony of your life comes to a screeching halt. You are surrounded in a bubble of glorious baby. Baby hair, baby smell, baby skin. You are in the fluffiest angel's wings, rainbow colored halo light. They are finally born, and your life is never again the same. And you never want it to be.

Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

My dreams have been deranged, to say the least.

I have always been known to my friends, to have the strangest dreams ever known to man. In the past, I have dreamt of being sexually attacked by Kid Rock and Pam Anderson, chased by Joey Fatone and a huge tuna sandwhich (with carrot dices in it), and to have had a threesome with NKOTB members. Sometimes they involve celebrities, sometimes they involve everyday people.
But, usually, it's the celebrity dreams that are as whacked out as they wanna be.

Last night's consisted of me going shopping. Everywhere I went, there was Britney Smears and her boyfriend Kevin Tenderloin were there. Giggling, groping, and gaffawing. In Walmart, in Kmart, in malls.
I went to a grocery store because I was sickened by them being in every isle I was in, only to see them again, sharing peaches. Kevin Tenderloin would let Britney bite a piece of his peach, and let the juice drip down her chin, and then I would see a close up of her pimpled skin with peach juice dripping all over it. He would then wipe it for her and he had a hick accent and would say "lemme get that there peach juice, dahling...."
It was disturbing. It was scary. I woke up wanting to be held.

The night before consisted of Scott Peterson knocking at my door. I opened it, he told me his name was my husband's name, and I said "no, you're not him, you are not my husband..." he tried to make me get into a car with him and I wouldn't. He then dragged me out of the house and made me wait with him at a bus stop. Some reason, I couldn't get away from him, and he made me get on this Greyhound bus with him and he took me to a hotel, where he said he would hurt me if I tried to escape. He fell asleep... and then I went out on the ledge of the brick hotel building, only to be seen by a little hispanic boy eating mangos on his mother's fire escape and he screamed "Hey Es-Scott... that pregnant lady is on the ledge, she is trying to escape!"
Scott woke up and got mad at me and told me to just go home, that I had ruined his fun, and he was sickened by me. So I went home, on another Greyhound bus, surrounded by little old Jewish women knitting me blanket and booties for the baby.

A few weeks ago, I dreamt that Jake Gyllenhaal (one of my man/boy lust desires) told me that this baby was his, and he took me out to get ice cream. We were in a very unfamiliar place, and I told him it was time to take me home, he said "whatever... I have to leave, bye." and he left me there alone. I waited for a trolley to take me back home and I got attacked by Kirsten Dunst coming at me with a wooden stake screaming about how I stoled her boyfriend.

Yea, I know. My dreams are on crack. Crack or LSD.

If anyone knows wtf these things may mean, please inform me. But, I actually think, that if a dream analyst would try to dissect these things, they would run off with clumps of hair in their hands, screaming, crying and laughing, all at the same time.

funkified

funkified

I feel horrible today. I have had nothing but back pain from the depths of hell and pain shooting down my legs since last night. It got so bad, I was crying in a fetal positioned ball earlier.

I had to get my sister in law to pick up Mimi from school, because a walk across the backyard and the field would have never happened. I would have collapsed before I reached the building.

Did I call the doc? Of course not. I like to torture myself, and would probably have given birth in my bed and bitten off the umbilical cord, if it could happen. Don't ask why, but I never call the doctor. My mother was screaming at me today on the phone telling me that if I don't call the doctor she was going to call him for me. I told her it would subside, and if it got worse I would go into the ER.

It subsided. No birth in my bed. No umbilical cord biting.

It subsided, but the upset, sour stomach that I have had accompanying it is still there, not matter how many TUMS or alka seltzer I take.

I have 30 days left. 30 days of what I hope is not this. Because if that is the case, I will be a flopped over piece of human being wheeled into the Csection O.R.

Don't mess with me!

Don't mess with me

I am in a bad mood today. I had a lot of fucking headachy adult bullshit going on, and I do not feel like dealing with it. How sad is that? I am 30 fucking years old and just want to hide under my covers from "adult, big people stuff". I don't wanna deal with the world today. I don't wanna deal.

My kid was denied a sandwhich last week in lunch, because she had "a brown bag" even though she paid 2 fucking dollars to get herself a sandwhich, they wouldn't let her go get it, because she had a "brown bag". I told her teacher, to tell the fucktard lunchlady, that had she looked inside my kid's "brown bag" that she would have seen there was cheese and some crackers in there and a juice. AND THAT'S ALL. She wasn't trying to smuggle a fucking 3 course meal in there and buy a cheese sandwich, you fucking tyrant!

Mymy wanted to eat lunch today though, so I told her teacher "you owe her 2 dollars from last week, because she was not allowed to use that to get her sandwhich, please make sure my child eats a lunch...." Now I am sitting here all scared my kid ate nothing for lunch. And if she comes home and tells me that the fucktard lunchlady wouldn't let her get a lunch, I am going to go to the school and beat the fuck out of the lunchlady. They will have to fucking arrest me. Don't fuck with my kid, man. I will kill you.

Jordan is no knight of mine!

Jordan is no knight of mine...

I watched Surreal Life last night. I watched it because the love of my teenage wet dreamdom would be on there. I thought we could rekindle some sort of teenage wet dreamdom once again.

He let me down. Oh so bad. He took what little innocence I had stashed away in my teen filing cabinet of my mind, and he ripped it all apart.

Jordan Knight did nothing but prove to me, that he is creepy. And further more, even creepier in a red striped polo shirt, that my girlfriend referred to as "a child molester type shirt...".

He looked bloated. Bloated and grey. He looked like a grey bloated, dead fish. And he acted like one as well. I told my friend "he looked like Patrick the starfish on Spongebob, all bloated and chunk like..." But even Patrick is pink and fleshy. Jordan was dead skin.

He was rude, ignorant and just plain nasty. And when he decided to take a room all to himself, and make Ryan Starr of American Idol fame whine even more than she does already, I could have beat him with a stick.

He then retreated to his little room, he stacked huge metal boxes that he brought with him in front of the door way, so no one could bother him. He boxed himself in a room, people. He made a drunken Brigitte Nielson fall on the boxes and as she screamed and whaled in pain, he pretended to be asleep and smirked at her screams for help.

He also said to Dave Coulier that "the Olsen twins are hot..." once again, adding to the striped Chester the Molester shirt factor. Coulier looked at him in disgust and moved away from him.

What the fuck JK? The Olsen twins could be your neices for chrissakes! You are like 33 and they are like just turned 18. You nasty bastard. You nasty, striped shirt wearing, box piling, grey bloated fish looking little bastard. You creep me, dude. You took all I had thought of you and you squashed it. You squashed it with a striped shirt, a bloated look and the words "The Olsen twins are hot."

Wopow

Wopow

I just got the pain of my life. I am sitting here, doing nothing, as I always do on this PC, and WOPOW. Cletus the fetus just kicked the crap outta me. That shit hurt, Cleet. You hurt mommy bad, my bud.

Anyhow, I was coming on here to discuss the disgust of Miracle Whip.

It is neither miraculous nor whipped.

It's fucking nasty. I hate it.

I was trying to make myself some tuna. I know pregnant women shouldn't eat tuna. But I eat it, like I drink caffeine and all kinda shit I aint supposed to eat, according to studies done by "the doctors who say you shouldn't eat shit". None of my kids have come out with three heads or fins so don't feel sorry for them.

Anyhow, I was making some, and went to get my all time fave. Hellmans. Hellmans is the shit. Hellmans, is made from hell and man and is full of fat and deliciouso oil and egg whites. Made into a perfection never quite duplicated.

I had none left. I had to go the fridge and see what else was there. There sat Miracle Whip, staring at me from the side of the fridge. I ignored it and searched. It continued to stare at me and said "you have no other choice, bitch... eat me."

So, I reluctantly brought it out onto the counter. We stared each other down for a few minutes. I put into my mixture of tuna and carrots and celery and onion. I heard faint screams from the concoction.

As I ignored the faint screams of the vegetables and dead canned fish, a glob fell and landed at the feet of my cat. She looked up at me. She looked down at it. And she smelled it.

She ran. She ran fast.

I ran with her, and we embraced. We never looked back.

Miracle Whip is fucking evil. It is not mayo. It never will be, and no one can make me eat it. No one.

Vampire Bears....

Vampire Bears....

Bears Could Delay Start of School Year

Fri Sep 3, BUCHAREST (Reuters) - Some 30 brown bears have been terrorizing a Transylvanian mountain village and could delay the start of the school year, local authorities said Thursday.


Villagers are afraid to let their children go outside, with the bold bears are making off with domestic animals in broad daylight, mayor Nicolae Codreanu told state radio from Poiana Marului, 106 miles north of Bucharest.


Animal experts were seeking a solution before the start of the school year on September 15.

....Maybe vampires have mated with bears, and this is the outcome. Blah Blah.