Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Soak up the sun

It is 70 degrees here in my little town in Ohio.

My kids and I sat outside for 4 hours. The baby took a nap with his favorite blanket and his bottle, and his Dorothy the dinosaur, his little socked feet hanging out of the stroller.

My daughter kept singing some song about "I don't know what the blue birds sing..."
some concotion she made up, but it was cute. Her chubby little cheeks were pink and fresh and her saucer eyes of brown were sparkly. Not sick and dark circled.

My oldest son kept running back and forth. Out of breath and laughing at nothing. He would stop to take a drink of his bottled water and then run off again chasing a squirrel or a chipmunk. He wasn't crying and fighting me because of his own confusion or frustration.

They played, without eating each other's flesh. They laughed, with each other and not at each other. And the most important thing is, I actually sat there and read some books on creative writing and creating character emotions. Something I have been trying to achieve for over 3 weeks.

The air smelled like grass and flowers and warm sun.

Yes siree... Spring has come.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Note to self

Note to self:
Don't ever eat your BBQed Carolina shredded pork while watching movies such as Saw, again.

You Moron. Didn't you figure that tons of blood and gore would be involved? Next time make chicken pot pies or something that doesn't have red blood-like substance floating around in your plate.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Change my name, please.

I just lost a whole fucking post that I wrote out because my fucking household is insane and running all over god's creation like banshee's on crack and someone disconnected my fucking COMPUTER CONNECTION!


I am not writing it over again. Except to say that:

  • I hate my HMO because I only have 5 visits left with my therapist whom I haven't seen in over a month and I owe her a deductible I didn't know about that I can't afford, because my fucking mental meds cost $30 a month and isn't that enough???

  • I hate that I feel like I can't stand my own fucking skin. I hate that I am on edge and am snapping at everyone again. I think my depression is coming back.

  • I hate that I am dealing with a three year old who is stubborn as all hell and am trying to potty train him and he keeps shitting all over my house. He will piss in the pot, but God forbid he actually pinch a loaf in it.

  • the baby is cutting teeth. Cranky. Enough said.

  • My daughter has a nasty ass attitude and has been embarassing me in front of people by acting like she is an adult. When I punish her to her room for groundings or time out she screams as if I am Mommy Dearest "BUT I LOOOOVE YOU MOMMMMMYYYYYY! WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME!????"

  • My husband wants to come home and just sit and vegetate after working in a factory all day and I just want him to take over so I can breathe

  • I have no time to do anything by myself. I can't write, I can't take a shit, I can't go anywhere without a child whining or clinging to me. I have not been anywhere without a child in sometime. And I don't mean with my husband and me alone, I mean by MYSELF ALONE. No husband or kids. Just me.

  • If I do something alone it's when they are all asleep and I am risking me losing sleep just so I can enjoy myself.

  • I feel like I don't want to be here anymore. And I don't mean slashing my wrists, I mean running away and changing my name so I can start a new life. To Arizona. Where I can live in a trailor park and work in a brothel. Alone.

    Friday, March 25, 2005

    Stupid crap

    I don't know what is up with Enetation.Com and their comments, but it looks like this mariposa is gonna do some research and tutorials and just add the regular Blogger comments to my shit.

    This is the second time in a week that this has happened. Fucking morons.

    I should add the code for blogger commenting anyway, because it's easier for fellow bloggers to go back and forth between my page and theirs. And also, because it has bigger font size, whereas enetation's you need to wear GLASSES to read the print.

    In other news.... my fucking ear is blocked again, because I had another sinus cold. When will these viruses leave me the fuck alone? I am sick of being sick, sick of having sick kids, and sick of hearing everyone hack.

    So, yea, my nose blockage went to my middle ear. I am waiting for another infection, being that is what happened last time.

    I had good sex today. My husband came home early from work, and the kids napped, and we actually had a moment to ourselves. It felt good to melt into him. Then I slept for a couple hours.

    Now there are kids screaming "MOMMMMYYYYY!" and I want to run and hide. The Easter bunny needs to bring me a honeymoon in a basket. I never had one. I was 8 months pregnant when I got married. I never went anywhere alone with my husband.

    I want one now.


    Thursday, March 24, 2005

    Yummy Cheeks McGee

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    Tell me this face, those toes and those cheeks are not yummy... and I will call you crazy.

    Wednesday, March 23, 2005

    Fatback rides again

    My friend sent me a picture today, from a couple years ago.

    What I saw, threw me into some sort of freak out.

    Is this me?

    What the fuck!?

    I noticed I was pretty large. Real large.

    So the questioning started. "Do I still look like this? Am I possibly that big to the opposite eye? What the fuck!?"

    What I did next, was take as much of a full shot as I could, so I could compare them together.

    Know what I see? I don't know what I see. It's all distorted to me. (rhyme unintentional).

    I can't fucking tell. That's what. I know I have huge boobs, big whoop. Lemme see a woman over 190 that ain't got big boobs. It's fat, my dear.

    The woman in the picture is an ex-friend. Someone who shall remain nameless and sucks ass hair in my opinion. I superimposed a picture of Nosferatu, because that is what she reminds me of, a bloodsucking vampire. Except she doesn't suck blood. She likes to suck down martini's nightly after her kids are in bed. And I don't mean just one or two. I mean a whole bottle.
    The baby is not hers, he is the baby of another ex-friend (yes, I have lots of those) who shall also remain nameless. I put a cute little censoring dot over his face because I am not showing someone else's baby on the internet. So I covered his face. Because I am nice. But I am not so nice to that vampire holding him.

    She pretty much resembles Nosferatu, except that her teeth are green. And her eyes are a bit beadier:

    That was 2 years ago. BEFORE baby #3. I was 220 pounds.

    This is today.

    I don't know how much I weigh currently. But last I knew of before Christmas I was around 194. I weighed 235 during pregnancy. My diet of blood hemmoraging and transfusions, and also pneumonia got me down to 194. I ain't on that diet anymore. So, I know I am not that weight exactly.

    But I like donuts. So, yea. Probably a few more pounds than that.

    All I know, is I was a 20-22 in that pic before and I am in my prepregnancy jeans as we speak. PP jeans are a size 18. I can make myself squeeze into a 16 if I try. I mean TIGHT squeeze.

    I also know, that my before pic shows the trouble I was having while on certain medications. Lemme tell ya, I am PETRIFIED of that happening again.

    Where am I going with this entry? Jesus, who knows. I guess I am just scared I look worse than I originally thought I did.

    Wasn't I just talking about fat on meat the other day? "That will clog your arteries..." my husband said. Maybe he wants to say "You're gonna be wearing MuMu's and I will have to walk around with your fat ass and smile".

    Monday, March 21, 2005

    My cat has cancer

    I think my cat has cancer.

    She has vaginal cancer.

    She is dying, I think.

    She has had problems the past few months. I don't know why I just thought it was her being "in heat" sypmtoms. What is wrong with me? This poor creature depends on me for her care. I kept putting off certain symptoms and now she has a possible tumor that can be cancerous.

    My cat is probably on the road to death.

    I am so sorry Daisy. I am so sorry that I ignored your suffering signs as just something of the norm.

    I have had this cat since Keith and I were dating. My previous cat had died and he bought her for me, because he knew how much I missed Kit Kat. We took her home and we ate Chinese takeout as she explored my apartment. She fell off the couch and shook her tiny little black furry head and we laughed "She seems so dazed and confused!" Then I realized that was her name "Daisy! She is Dazed, so I will call her Daisy!" I knew that Dazed was different than Daisy, but Daisy's are my favorite flower and it just went along with the moment.

    She was there when we got engaged, she was there when we got married, she was there when I was 8 months pregnant and I fell asleep in the bathtub and she climbed onto my belly like an island and patted my nose to wake me. Yes, she did that. Believe it or not, my cat did that. She was there when I brought home every single one of my babies. And was there when I lost one of my babies in my womb. As I cried in excruciating pain, she stayed next to me on the bed and licked my hand.

    I taught her to fetch like a dog. With a can of tuna and a water bottle cap. She makes chirping sounds at birds and can imitate a squirrel when she sees them in the window sill.

    I love seeing her when I wake up as she curls around my feet. I love when the baby sees her and his eyes get huge and wide and he motions to go after her. He wants her so bad and it's hilarious. We keep saying she will be the reason he crawls early.

    She is a part of my family. I know she will have to go sometime, at some moment, but I am not prepared for that. I don't take to death of family members well. And she is a family member.

    She has been there for 8 years. And now she might be dying.

    Saturday, March 19, 2005

    "lots of blood please"

    My husband and I went out to eat tonight.


    Let me say that again.


    I didn't have to cut up any meat or pretend I had octopus tentacles and feed everyone at the same time.

    My food was hot.

    I was able to eat appetizer, salad, bread and steak and take my time.

    I drank 5 cokes. I didn't even feel like having alchohol. I just wanted lots of sugar. Lots and lots of coke please. Lots of ice please. And my steak? Medium rare.

    Waitress: Medium rare is warm and bloody. Now are you sure?
    Me: Yes, please. Lots of blood please. I like my meat bleeding. Warm blood.
    Waitress: ohhh kayy!!! (giggling)

    She laughed because she thought I was funny. She wasn't laughing at me. Later we joked about how the fat on meat is the best part.

    Keith: "Please leave the fat off" (while asking for her to leave his shredded pieces of fat out of his box he was taking home.)
    Waitress: "Oh, see I love fat, I am Southern and love love fat on my meat"
    Me: "You're Southern? See, I love fat too, fried fat please. I am Puerto Rican and I love me some fried up seasoned fat!"
    Waitress: "YESSS!!! Mama made the best fried fat back ever!"

    We just nodded at each other. Mmmmm. Lots of blood. Lots of fat. That's it baby, nice and slow. Nice fat and bloody.

    I am such a pig.

    When we left, it was drizzling. I took in the night air and I felt so good. Fat and good.

    We got home and my mother had put all three kids to bed. No one screaming. No one running. Everyone asleep and beautiful.

    Later, I plan on getting me some more beef. If you get my drift.

    I am such a pig.

    Friday, March 18, 2005

    Coming soon, to a season near you.

    When I got up this morning, I could barely walk or open my eyes.

    Even thought I had gone to bed when the kids did last night, I felt like I was pulling an all nighter at a disco.

    My oldest, Keifer, woke up- quite a few times. His fever would come back after the meds had worn off and then he would want me to lay with him. Then, once he would go to sleep, I would go to bed only to be summoned by the baby coughing or crying.

    This morning, at around 6, I got the baby situated in his crib. He shares a room with Keifer and so Keifer saw me, and wanted to go to my bed with me. So I let him. He started kicking me in his sleep, so I went to his bed.

    Then, my daughter woke up. She wanted to lay in my bed with my son, until she saw me in his bed, so she came in there with me. Keifer has a twin bed. Mya and I were obviously too small to cramp into his small bed.

    After she fell asleep, I found myself playing musical beds. Going to her bed, and then to mine and back to Keifer's. As everyone would find me, I would wait for them to fall asleep again and then I would drift off into another room. If I could fit my large ass into the crib, I am sure I would have gone in there, too.

    I woke up on the floor.

    I sat in the kitchen talking to Sis, she had called to make sure I didn't think she was bringing over her boys (whom I watch for her a couple times a week). I told her thanks for calling and listened to her as she ordered breakfast on a fast food speaker. Man, that sounded delicious. I wanted to beg her to take me to work with her. To let me stow away in her trunk. I could teach art like her. I could eat fast food breakfast with a coke and feel free.

    When I hung up with her, I decided to dress myself. I felt hung over. Again, like I had spent the night dancing or something. I only wish.

    I asked God, to please send me something to make my day brighter. "What hath I doth done to deserve such tortureth?" I said out loud.

    The kids were hungry when they woke up, and that made me feel better. Neither had eaten more than a few spoonfuls of soup the passed few days. They ate breakfast and soon the baby fell asleep on the floor with a blanket under him.

    He is a lot like me.

    I escaped somehow. The kids were preoccupied with Nick Jr.

    I saw the sun shining outside.

    I went outside on my steps.

    I smoked a cigarette on my steps, barefoot. Hair going all over. Sunshining on my face.

    Yes, I smoke again. I haven't shared that with you all... because I didn't want to hear it. Please, don't let me hear it. I have already called myself a million names for doing this dirty habit again. I like it. Leave me alone.

    I love the taste of my menthol Capri's in morning sunshine. So sue me.

    I smelled wet grass. Warm air. The snow was melting in the field, and when I closed my eyes as I inhaled, I saw neon orange. The kind of neon orange you see when you close your eyes and you're at the beach sunbathing.

    I saw buds on trees. I heard birds singing.

    It was only ten minutes, but those ten minutes were what I had asked God for when I woke up this morning.

    Spring. It's coming. Sooner than I thought.

    And when I came back in, the baby rolled over on his own on his blanket. All by himself.

    Yup, Spring is almost here.

    Wednesday, March 16, 2005

    Winter is a man in gold chains *Update*

    I loathe you winter.

    Your cold and heartless weather. Your senseless acts of blizzards and below zero weather. The way you kill people with your sicknesses that harbor indoors because windows can't be left open.

    I was born in the middle of your disgusting season. I never had birthday barbecues, or festival celebrations outdoors with the sun shining on my face. But my kids do. At least the first two. And my youngest, he beat your nasty ass by a month. So HA! You fucker.

    I hate you winter and all that you are. You think you can blind people with your pretty snowflakes and your bling bling ice? The way you make the snow glisten in the morning sunshine, only to swipe that sunshine away within seconds and cover it with your ugly grey skies?

    You don't fool me.

    You are as predictable as a man covered in gold chains, wearing a shirt with disco glitter and sporting a goatee and a sneering smile. Just like Mr. Goatee, you are no good. Rotten. You try to hypnotize with your pretty baubles and then you throw a storm cloud our way and you laugh your evil laugh.

    My daughter is sick again. She has an infection. Of what kind I don't know, but her tempatures keep coming back higher and higher. Nurse Hatchett just sent her home again. Giving me a look of disgust like I sent my kid to school with the plague. I am sorry you bitch! She was ok this morning! Now my poor kid has to endure a funky assed doctor's visit so he can determine what Mr. Goatee Winter has given to her. My poor mama. My poor baby girl. Her big eyes are glossed over and sickly. Her smile is weak.

    I also keep getting sick. I have sores in my nostrils and an alien that flies out of my chest each morning. My baby has boogers as green as pastures. What the fuck is going on? Why has my poor family endured such a horrible sick season? We usually get hit once and that's it. This bullshit keeps circulating over and over and over! My mother's boyfriend's grandfather just died last week. This man was 100 years old. You know what killed him? Pneumonia. Had he lived in Florida or California, he probably wouldn't have died this winter. But no, he lives in nasty ass, cold as hell Ohio. So, his 100 years were cut short, he probably had a bit of life still left inside of him. But Mr. Winter took care of that.

    I hate winter.


    My oldest son is now sick.

    His poor little three year old body was as hot as the sun. My God, it scared me.

    Soaking him in and out of baths, fighting with him to take his children's motrin. Laying with him until he fell asleep.

    Then when I was finally able to sneak out of his room, my daughter would wake and moan and call me.

    I layed down with her, too. As I stroked her hair, and we laughed about Walter Mercado the "scary guy with a cape". She saw him on tv last week and couldn't stop giggling. When I saw who it was I screamed. I told her I used to be creeped out by him in high school. I guess she thinks it's hilarious.

    Anyhow, way off subject here. I am freaking tired and drinking a beer before I go off to lalaland.

    And when I go there, I hope it helps me sleep well and deep. And I hope I wake to healthy children.


    Tuesday, March 15, 2005

    A potato and his demise

    I just made a movie about a tater tot and his demise.

    Yes. I am a geek.

    I tried to upload it to a server, but being that it was made on Microsoft Movie Maker, I had to upload it the easy way to a 3 day trial only site. If any of you know an easier way for me to upload to a site small movies, please email me and give me a clue.
    If you can't see this work of art, then please email me if you want me to send it to you.

    The site should pop up instantly and you click on the link provided.

    Every little thing

    Everything has me on edge today.

    My daughter is home sick after the school nurse called me 4 times yesterday afternoon. Each time my daughter more and more sickly. Finally I gave in, even though she had a normal temp and all she had was an annoying cough. She could have stuck it out until 3 p.m. But no. I had to pick her up at 2 p.m. Wow, what a huge difference.

    Then last night my husband was on my nerves. I love him, I love him dearly, but when he gets into his trances and ignores the goings on in this insane house, it drives me nuts. HELLO? ANYBODY HOME? YES, HELLO THERE. CAN YOU SAY SOMETHING? DISCIPLINE SOMEONE? HELP ME OUT HERE A BIT?

    My daughter stayed home. I wanted to avoid another early release and a million calls from Nurse Hatchett. So, now she is home. With a cough and hacking, yet she can still beat her brother up and take things from him to make him whine more than ever.

    Also, the baby is sick again. He just got over a cold two weeks ago where the Pediatrician thought he was developing pnuemonia. He recovered quickly, then got 4 immunizations. That was 10 days ago. Mother's know the math. 7-10 days after immunizations, babies can get sick. Develope fevers, and also be crankier than shit. He eats and then is so cranky I can't put him down. I can't keep sticking a bottle in his mouth. He will weigh 500 pounds by the time he is 1 year old. He will end up on Maury Povich wearing a baby wife beater tank top that rides up on his belly and a diaper that's two sizes to small to accentuate his humungosity. People in the audience will go "Booooooooo BAD MOM!" and I will dab at tears with a hanky while Maury tells the story about the baby who's mama didn't know how to handle him so she made him eat every time he cried.

    Help me out here God. Give me something to look forward to.

    Monday, March 14, 2005

    Pope of Scummy Village?

    I just sat through some videos on VH1.

    I saw the new video by Mariah Carey from her new album "The Emancipation of Mimi". I have no idea what the fuck all that means, but anyway on to my point.

    I am watching this video and almost turn the channel, because not only is Jermaine "scary little demon midget" Dupri in it, but because me and Mariah have an imaginary battle going on for my husband. He loves her. I think she is a living and breathing Monchi Chi.

    So like I was saying... I watch it anyway, because I notice that Eric Roberts is in it. Remember Eric Roberts? Brother of Julia, the one who had a career before she became america's scariest big tooth? Well, I notice he is in Monchichi's video watching her from some office as she gets ready for a party. And there he is, smiling and watching her. I then remember, he did the EXACT same thing in the Killer's video Mr. Brightside. He plays a bordello pimp in the Brightside video and watches as a dolllike girl romps around being a bordello whore. While the dollwhore kisses the lead singer boy who wears eyeliner and makes me weak in my knees, Eric smiles with glitter on his face and eats an apple.

    So my point? I dunno if I have one. But I do have a question. Why is Eric Roberts playing a voyueristic bordello pimp in two very different videos. One is hip hop pop and the other is rock? The two are not connected. It makes me feel weird. And dirty. And kind of scared.

    Wanna know what scared me even more? VH1 puts the Mr. Brightside video on after the Monchichi video. I ran out of the room screaming NOOOOOOOO! NOT THE BORDELLO PIMP AGAIN!

    As I peered from around the corner, I saw Mr. Roberts taking a bite out of an apple and smile and wink at me from the TV screen.

    Saturday, March 12, 2005

    New dress

    Listening to: Yellow card
    My Only One

    No, I won't word all my entries with songs and whatnot. I just felt like it.

    I got a new blog dress. You like it? I did all my own graphics. My own background. I just used the CSS and HTML stuff from the peeps at Not [that]ugly.

    The baby is me. The bride is me. The high school geek photo... yep, me. And then there's just a pic of the now me. The weird 31 year old me. Oh, but the guy in the pic of me as a bride is not me... it's my husband. Ha ha.

    I like the way it came out. I still have some odds and ends that are bothering me about it and I plan on adding more links for Sucia blogs and for art by Sis Art. But this will have to do until I tweak it up.

    I spent most of my day on it because I am a geek.

    Now that my site is clean, my house isn't. It looks like a fucking hurricane ran through. I am also bitchy towards everyone in my house. I want to be alone. LEAVE ME ALONE. YOU HEATHENS! YOU DAMNED BLOOD SUCKERS! YOU SUCK MY SOUL!

    There. I feel better.

    Not really.

    Oh well.

    Nothing a new dress can't cure.

    Friday, March 11, 2005

    What the hell?

    WTF is up with blogger and comments?

    I swear, I really need to get my own domain. But being the poor ass that I be, well, that ain't gonna be for sometime. So I guess I have to deal with the problems it has from time to time.

    I tried to leave my Sucia Desiree a comment, and I couldn't! Napoleana! If you are reading this, YO I TRIED TO LEAVE YOU A COMMENT. SOMETHING SILLY AND ABOUT CHICKEN TALONS. But, I guess I will try later. "Isa a sledgehammer."

    My daughter is having her first overnight friend stayover. Does that make sense?

    Anyhow, her friend, my best friend's daughter, is staying over. Lot's of WEEEEEEEEEEE! GIGGGGLEEEE!!!! TEEE HEEEE! Laughing and giggling. It's adorable. It's like they are teenagers already. That is scary. It was yesterday when they were three years old barely out of diapers. Why does time fly?

    This night reminded me of my first stay over. I was six, too. I also remember it was a big slumber party. And I remember I also cussed everyone out. Everyone was giggling and talking when we were supposed to be asleep, and I used my first big word... "serious".

    Me: "Shut the hell up! I am serious! GO TO SLEEP!"
    Everyone "SHUT UP MARI!"
    A girl: "She said she is cereal! HEE HEE!"
    Me: "I said SERIOUS IDIOT, not cereal! Bunch of assholes."

    Yea. I was kind of a control freak. I was bossy.

    I am so glad I changed.

    (giggle tee hee....)

    Thursday, March 10, 2005

    Silly Thought of the day

    I am sitting here, thinking about how much baby bottle liners
    resemble condoms

    Talk amongst ya selves.

    Silly action of the day

    Is it bad that I had my mother in law sneak me over 6 homemade chocolate chip cookies this morning? And that I am eating them with my hand over my mouth around the corner from my son? And also, that by the time Mya comes home, there will be none to share?

    They ate almost half a batch yesterday. I deserve goodies too, godamnit.

    Talk amongst ya selves.

    Wednesday, March 09, 2005



    Nothing much going on.

    It's really cold here. Like 10 degrees or lower. I hate winter.
    I am sick of winter. I am really really ready for it to be warm.

    My friend and I were discussing seasons here in Ohio. We realized, that with winter and all the cold months, that we literally only have about 3 months of actual warm, good enough to go outside days. 90 fucking days. That's about it. I am just realizing this after living here for 31 years.

    I wonder how high the depression rate is in Ohio, and how much of that depression rate is attributed to the seasons being so fucking shitty.

    I like Ohio and all. But man alive, I want some sunshine. I got about ten minutes worth yesterday morning and felt like a new person. WTF is that all about?

    Other stuff...

    I went to Chuck E. Cheese yesterday with my oldest son. Just me and him. I had so much fun, watching my son have fun. He is so sweet. He is so happy. His big brown eyes and his long eyelashes. He was running around so much he was out of breath and his cheeks were apple red.

    I realized as a mother of three, that I have to try and do this with all three of them as much as possible. To take them out alone with just me or their dad so that they can enjoy us alone.

    I can't wait to see him run around this summer and be all apple cheeked and red and dirty and sweaty and having fun chasing fire flies with his sister. While the baby sits on a blanket and giggles.

    Where is the sunshine Mother Nature?

    Saturday, March 05, 2005

    Venturing out

    Venturing out

    Image hosted by Photobucket.comI am about to venture out into the cold air of Ohio and take my chilren's to the library.

    I promised them three nights ago, if they took their medicine and went to bed, we would and I quote "Mommy will take you both to the library! Won't that be fun!?" they responded "YAY!!! LIBRARY!!!!".

    To my surprise, they both took it and went straight to sleep.

    So of course, they marked today on their tiny little mental calendars, and when I woke up this early morn, they were both in my face.

    Mya: "MOM!!!!!!!! TODAY! Today we go to the library!"
    Both of them in unison: "YAAYYYYYY?"
    Me: "ooga. huh?" rubs eyes. wakes. gets coffee.

    I am still in my pajamas. They, including the baby, are all naked. with diapers and underwear. They look like village babies.

    They keep screaming "LIBRAREEEEEEEEEEEE!" as if it's the secret word of the day, like on the Pee Wee Herman show.

    "Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!". Then the baby screams because he has to chime in as well. "AHHHH AHHHHH MUM!"

    I need to get motivated. I promised them. But I can't move. I am still drinking coffee. I have to get them all dressed, not sure if I am going to walk there in the brisk winter air, or if my husband will drop us off, which would require me dressing another individual. He said he didn't mind. But I might, I don't wanna dress 4 people including myself. I think the stroller and the feet will have to do. I can't dress one more person.

    Once we get there, I will juggle the two older ones as my husband gets to sit at home with the baby and relax in quiet. Lucky man. I owe it to him after he has been home all week, trying to relax during his much awaited vacation. He hasn't had a full week off in the 6 years he has worked his fingers off. And instead of relaxation, the man has helped me juggle the three chilrens, taking the baby to the doctor twice this week, helping out with laundry, cooking, cleaning, letting me sleep in until 1 o'clock on my birthday. I know he deserves this day with the baby and nothing else.

    It won't be so bad. My kids love books, they love to read, they need to get out of the house and get air, and maybe when we get back they won't be eating each other's flesh and actually be tamed for a little while.

    Then we can all have a nice dinner, which is simmering in the crock pot as I speak. My homemade BBQ shredded pork. I make my own sauce and everything. We put it on buns and eat it with slaw or with mac salad. I love my crock pot. It's from heaven.

    So, as I venture forth into this cold world, with two kids in tow, going to the library (YAY!), keep me in mind. Send me good vibes, that we all make it back alive.
    hee hee.

    Library! Yay!

    Killing me softly

    Killing me softly

    Remember that song? I am not talking about the Fugee's version. That one made me have hemmoroids. I'm talking about the one way back when, like when I wore pigtails. Like in early 1990's. Remember Al B. Sure? Yea, that version.

    Anyhow, as nice as it would be to hear that I did a google search on Ol' Al.. who is probably all fat and hairy these days, this entry is not about Al.

    I found a new group that is up and coming. I saw the video and was drawn in. Not just because I am a visual person, but because I liked how it sounded. Almost 80's like, and very haunting. Their name is The Killers. And if they are not very new to you, they are to me, ok? I am an old fart bag. Remember?

    The fact that I heard them again on Regis and Kelly, whom I watch in the mornings because there isn't anything else on and I like Regis' funky lil sweet ass, had been a reminder to myself to check out their site and get their CD.

    When my sister in law came over to play with the kids tonight, I asked her "DO you know about some new group called the Killers?" She looked at me sideways and goes "How did you know about them? I love them." As if I knew about some secret society. I felt like a dork. A big dork. She looked at me sideways.

    I go "I like them. I like their song Mr. Brightside. Do you have anything by them?" she goes "yea, I can burn you some, want me to?" Of course I do, young whipper snapper. She seemed like she would be doing me some huge favor by helping out the dork in me.

    Then I said "they have a distinct 80's sound." She goes "yes, that they do, I love it
    !" Let me tell you, She was born in 1988. She acts as if she can remember the year and the decade. I love it. I love her. She is going to help me stay undorky even at 31.

    Check out the Killers... they be Killing me, man. They are hot young lads as well. Little young hot, whipper snappers.
    the Killers

    Thursday, March 03, 2005

    Do it.

    Do it.

    I am angry right now.

    Someone I love and hold very dear to me was hurt tonight. Made to feel as if they weren't good enough. Was made to question their ability as an artist.

    I want to throw things and make people vanish.

    What makes me the most angry is, that this person has enormous talent. This person has more talent than they realizes. Their form of craft is unique. It has promise. And they were made to question that. To question their own ability to create.

    They were made to feel as if they were not good enough.

    As artists, no matter what your craft, be it writing a book, painting, acting, etc., you feel pressured to measure up. Measured up in your own mind. Even if your talent is enormous, you bare your soul, and you put yourself out there, and baring yourself can be brutal. Almost violating. No, not almost, it can be.

    I might be talking out of my ass because I am angry. And when I am angry I don't make sense. All I know is that my friend has enormous talent at what they do. I don't want my friend to give up. This person inspires me. I believe tremendously in this person's ability to perform as a great artist.

    I believe in you. So do it.

    Tuesday, March 01, 2005

    Dirty One

    Dirty One

    I am thirty one. Or, as I like to say it, Dirty One.

    At the stroke of midnight I thought I would glow all glittery and look radiant and feel that "happy birthdayness" we all used to feel as kids.
    But I ain't a kid no more.

    Thirty was cool. Novelty age. Thirty one feels like something different. Why?

    Man, where did time go? I remember just turning 21 and getting so drunk I passed out. And I remember clubbing in my early twenties and being a complete moron and in a total self destructive mode in all areas of my life. "Weeeeeeeeee! I have no responsibilities!!!! I can self destruct! WEeeeee!"

    And then I remember one day, I was a MOM. A mom. Now I am a mom, with three kids. How did that happen?

    Don't answer that, smart ass.

    I feel old. Washed up. Saggy. I use Olay cream to banish off the evil crows feet that are hanging out in the rafters, waiting to attack me. Even though my husband says I look young ( yea, he hasn't even turned 30 yet!) And my little girl says "Mommy you are young! Not old! You will be 41 in ten years! I will be 16!" Gee thanks baby girl. I can hardly wait for THAT.

    People, nice people, have said I look 10 years younger than I am. Thanks nice people. I appreciate your kind words. They make me feel better.

    But I still feel old. It's not about how I look. I feel old.

    This entry makes no sense.

    See!? I am already not making sense.

    Again, I wanted to write a meaningful entry about something sentimental, and I can't. It's not happenin'.

    I need sleep.

    The baby has a COLD. The pediatrician told me to do what I am already doing. Because it's just a COLD.

    I feel old and my baby has a cold. La dee da dee dee. My vagina is saggy and my eyes are big and baggy. La dee dee dee dee.

    I want cake.