TILTW: 9.22-9.28

* Carby foods like chips and pretzel M&Ms, is like a drug to me. I've known this for a while, but this month, this week has really proven it yet again. I just cannot control myself around carby foods. If I know it's there, I eat it all. And I'm not exaggerating. I can't stop thinking about it if I know it's at home and I'm at work (or something). And I feel so incredible after eating it... even if I also feel like I'm going to burst. I get an actual high after eating carby foods- especially those fucking pretzel M&M's. I like to think that I can indulge on occasion, but it's so damn dangerous when I do! For example, it's taken me more than three weeks to quit eating the shit food. Three weeks! I have a problem and it's carbs. (Actually, this problem is why I don't drink. Once I start drinking I cannot stop. If I had alcohol in the house, I'd be a drunk. It's also why I don't smoke anymore. Holy shit maybe my problem isn't so much with carby foods or booze or smoke, but rather that I have an oral fixation of sorts. Hm, maybe it's one more thing I can blame on my parents?? =D)

* I hate potty training but who doesn't, right?

* This shit right here is awesome:

Especially when you hab a coldth and your throat hurts and you just want hot salt to coat your throat. Add some of this to a mug with boiling water along with a couple baby carrots and you have instant hot chicken soup. SO YUMMY and easy. And seriously, WAY better than bouillon!!

Abuser of Secrets { - Fiction - }

People are basically dumb and selfish. And if you wait long enough you can get anything out of them.

Case in point: Janine. Yeah, we were friends back in the day. Pretty good friends, too. But girlfriend was fucked up. I knew that right away. I mean, how many 12 year olds can get away with smoking and drinking in their parents’ house on a daily basis? Yet we got away with it because Janine’s mom worked two full time jobs trying to keep a roof over their head. A dirty, disgusting, roach-infested roof.

I never saw roaches so I take that back.

But honest to god, this place they lived in? This place they called home? Fucking nasty is what I called it. I’d go over there after school and I couldn’t get to Janine’s room, just off the back porch entrance to the house and kitchen, without stepping on something. Anything: cat shit or food, plates, cups, forks, food, paper, plastic, aluminum foil, big containers, cans, boxes...



from doing a google search. click for source.

How I didn’t puke helping her clean- since she wasn’t allowed to leave until it was clean- I don’t know. How I never caught any kind of AIDS or anything, I don’t know.

And that was just the kitchen! I never, in the year we hung out, saw any other part of her house other than the kitchen, her bedroom, and the bathroom which was so gross I could vomit just thinking about it now.

We hung out though because we could smoke and drink alcohol. Usually Southern Comfort. I didn’t ask where she got any of the stuff from; I just helped her enjoy it.

After my family moved, I thought I had seen the last of Janine and her disgusting house. I knew my brother Matthew had the hots for her, but I just never dreamed he’d keep in contact with her since we moved an hour away and since he didn’t really hang out with us much when we lived closer. Seven years later when Matthew was away at college, I found out he dropped out of school and was moving back north, they got married, were having a baby, and she already had a four year old boy from some other dude.

When Matthew and his new little clan made their way into an apartment near my folks, I started hanging out with them. At first it was kind of weird since Janine and I used to hang out a lifetime prior. But soon, it was like no time had passed at all; it was like Janine and I were 12 years old again. Hell, we even continued drinking and smoking-- only now we were doing it out of the house rather than in. And soon enough, she was telling me her darkest secrets in life: How she was raped by her cousin, how she had an abortion, how her oldest was supposed to be given up for adoption.

Why she was telling me all this, I don’t know. But she made me promise not to tell anyone.

So I didn’t.

Not entirely at least.

Instead, I manipulated her and my brother’s relationship in a way that made them divorce; I sat by and helped her cheat on him. Janine and I would go out to the bars to see local bands perform and I wasn’t blind; I could see the flirting between her and a friend was escalating. And I didn’t do a damn thing about it. Instead, I kept inviting her out and she kept coming while Matthew and Janine’s mom stayed home with the kids. It was like they all wanted this to go down.



from doing a google search. click for source.

I don’t know for sure she cheated on Matthew, but knowing her history, her secrets… her… I had my suspicions. And when she finally told Matthew she loved him like a brother but didn’t want to be married anymore? I wasn’t shocked at all. I was, however, shocked when she left both Jake and Annie with Matthew especially since Jake wasn’t even his.

But that’s who Janine was. And that’s why it was so easy to fuck with her life like that.

  

Great (playdate/party) day

Fisher-Price and HouseParty have a new fan in me.

I signed up with HouseParty a couple months back after being invited to a Pull-Ups party and one day I noticed via their Facebook or Twitter that they were offering a Fisher-Price Playdate Party for this past Saturday. I quickly applied and when it was announced that the hosts were chosen (I think there were 5K chosen across the States), I quickly logged into my HouseParty account and was beyond shocked to see that I was one of the 5K chosen.

Me. Hosting a party?

I love having people over, but just don't ever do it much at all because I'm kind of like Aly Sheedy's character in The Breakfast Club.

But I:

• invited some folk with kids and told them over and over again that I would not be selling anything, they would not be buying anything
• got a huge box from Fisher-Price and HouseParty full of some of the coolest toys
• unboxed everything (and made a badass Clubhouse for Lovie with the box)
• put the toys together
• rearranged the living room
• baked cookies
• and had a kick-butt party on Saturday

As the good old Fresh Beats would say, It was a great day!

TILTW: 9.15-9.21

~ Lovie doesn't want to be a "boy kid." She told me this nearly every day this week during our drive to school.

~ Today is the last day of Summer. HOORAH!

~ Warm, fuzzy footed pajamas do a great job of soaking up pee.

~ I really do love writing fiction and have discovered a couple new characters I think I might want to play around with some more. What do you think?

Fall

Cool air, Crunchy leaves

 

2011

E l a t e  me.

 

 

 

WW: The Clubhouse

Keeper of Secrets { - Fiction - }

It’s been 15 years since I’ve last seen her. She’s fat, her hair is gray, yet she looks good: healthy, happy. And her little one’s a doll.

 

Clare and I were the best of friends at 12 years old. We hung out all the time smoking and running our mouths like we were all that and then some. Her older brother Matthew was cute, and I hoped he’d notice me at some point. It took him a while, but he finally came around after they moved away and I lost contact with Clare. Of course by then I already had Jake, but Matthew remained a constant and was good to both Jake and me even though Jake wasn’t his.

 

Next thing I knew, Jake was three, Matthew and I were getting married, and I found myself pregnant again.

Just before Annie was born, Clare started hanging out with us a lot and about two years later, I finally broke down and told her about Ray. About the rape. About the abortion. We were out partying one night while Matthew and my Momma were home taking care of Jake and Annie. Clare was talking about how lucky I was to have two cute kids and a husband at 23, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“If I tell you somethin’, you promise not to tell anyone? ‘Specially Matt?”

“Yeah, a-course.” A small, yellow-orange flame brightened the dark car as she lit a cigarette.

I told her how, just before we met when we were kids, I had an abortion after being raped by my cousin Ray. How Momma never called the police or anything when she found out what happened; she just made an appointment for an abortion and drove me to and from the clinic, and we stopped talking with her cousin Ruth, momma to Ray. How when I was pregnant a couple years later with Jake, Momma wanted me to get another abortion but I refused.

“I understood why she wanted me to get the first abortion and I didn’t want to be a momma at 15, but there’s no way I coulda done it again; ‘specially since Jake was cuz of my boyfriend.”

I told Clare how Momma and I got into a huge fight, how she ripped some hair out as she tried dragging me off my bed and to the clinic to get an abortion. How she collapsed onto the floor with strands of my blonde hair sticking out from her two fists. How we both screamed and cried till we fell asleep. How she then shipped me off to Florida to stay with an aunt until the baby was born. How I was then supposed to give that baby up for adoption but couldn’t.

“Jake shouldn’t be mine,” I exhaled smoke from the cigarette and immediately took another drag. Gripping the steering wheel so tight I thought my knuckles might explode out of my skin, I told her that if it were up to my Momma- who’d do anything for him and Annie today- Jake wouldn’t be mine.

I looked at Clare and her eyes glowed from the oncoming headlights.

“My god, Janine; I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“It’s OK,” I exhaled. “Just please don’t tell Matt. I mean he knows about the adoption thing but not about… the other.”

“No, a-course!”

And apparently she never did tell her brother- or anyone else. Even after I cheated on Matthew and left him a couple years later, she never told anyone my secret. Instead, she was there for Matt, Jake, and Annie when I left them. She was there when they needed me most. And now here she was again, 15 years later with her own little one helping Jake celebrate my grandbaby’s first birthday.

 

 

 

 

soaking in every bit of it

"I don't wanna nap. I don't wanna nap!" Lovie whines while sprawled in my lap.

 

"I know baby doll," I whisper, my arms wrapped around her body.

 

"I don't wanna nap, I don't wanna nap."

 

"Shh, it's okay."

 

"I don't wanna nap, I don't wanna nap!"

 

"Will you sing with me?"

 

She whimpers a bit, whines some more, I start to softly sing our "special song" (You are my Sunshine).

 

She continues to whine and cry a bit but she doesn't move. She lays comfortably on me, my arms holding her up, my legs bouncing the chair back and forth. I'm reminded of when she was first born and would fit perfectly in my arms. She was so itty bitty. Her hair was so fine, so soft; her skin so milky.

 

She's so much bigger now. A little person who talks and makes jokes and has opinions. A little person who doesn't want to nap, doesn't want to miss a second of life.

 

After a couple minutes of singing the same lines over and over again, she stops whining, stops crying and her eyes get heavier and heavier before finally closing shut. I continue to sing softly, tears streaming down my face. She completely trusts me to take care of her. She looks to me for comfort. She looks to me to help guide her to do the right thing. She says she doesn't want to nap, but she knows I know she does.

 

I hold her a bit longer, soaking in every bit of the stillness of the moment, knowing it won't last forever, knowing there will come a time when she won't want my arms around her, when she won't come to me for comfort for every little thing.

 

I have so much to do- laundry, dusting, vacuuming, cleaning, writing, editing, eating, sleeping, TVing- but none of it matters. None of it matters except for one thing: her.

 

I slowly stop bouncing the chair, stop singing the words. I slowly stand up and gently lift her up and over and into the crib. She whimpers for a moment and quickly silents as she sleeps oh so peacefully for a couple hours.

TILTW: 9.8-9.14

~ Fisher Price toys rock.

~ I want to be a toy designer. How much fun must that job be?!

~ Whoever designed this is a genius.

~ Teaching your tot to cough and sneeze into their arm is no easy task.



I'm not being paid by Fisher Price to write this post. I signed up with HouseParty and applied to be a Fisher Price Playdate Host and was accepted. In exchange for hosting this party, Fisher Price sent me a box full of toys for us to play with (and keep!!). It's been an amazing couple of weeks and I'm so very much looking forward to September 22nd when we finally have our party.

another day

First thing this morning, I walked through the door and was making my way toward my desk when I was greeted by 40-something Marie, a dress-wearing, frizzy-long-haired, non-make-up-wearing, puffy woman who works near my office space. "Another day," she huffed.

 

"Yep," I said, smiling.

 

My smile was genuine. It is another day. Thankgodalmighty!

 

 

Twenty years ago, I was well on my way to becoming Marie: I was in college, but I was such a miserable, introverted loner.

 

Ten years ago, I was pretty much a younger version of Marie: I was sluggish and not so happy. Especially at work. I had no life outside of my boyfriend who I only saw on weekends.

 

Five years ago, I was a couple months into being married to that boyfriend and was laid up in bed for 8 weeks due to a foot surgery. The days dragged.

 

Two years ago, I couldn't get enough minutes in the day. I had an 8.5 month old baby doll whom I wanted to spend every minute with.

 

Today, I still can't get enough minutes in a day.

 

My life has finally gotten to the point where I truly cherish every moment.

 

And I'm sick and tired of feeling bad about this.

 

I'm sick and tired of feeling almost guilty about feeling that life... my life... is good. Great, even!

 

It's not all great, all the time, but overall LIFE IS FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!

 

Thing is, I spent 35+ years dreading some days; wishing some days, weeks, months, years away.

 

I WISHED LIFE AWAY.

 

I've spent so many days miserable. I didn't participate in life. I sat by and watched as others lived and enjoyed life, but I didn't. Why? Because I was miserable. Why? Because.

 

I mean, there's a multitude of reasons for my misery: parents divorcing, siblings hating me, people ignoring me, being the new kid nearly a dozen times. I basically spent my pre-adolescent and adolescent years locked inside of my head. Nobody could touch me. Not deeply enough, at least.

 

My god was I a miserable person! And such a fucking introvert.

 

Once I hit adulthood, I had people tell me that upon first meeting me, they thought I was a stuck up bitch. That's how miserable, that's how much of an introvert I was. It's not that I really was a bitch. It's not that I hated anyone or didn't want to make friends. But I did hate life. And clearly, my hatred and misery shone through in all that I did, all that I was.

 

I lived most of my life like this and now that I'm finally over all the misery... I just have no real desire to return back to it.

 

I'm grateful for my past. I wouldn't relive it - not for anything - but I am grateful for it because I really do feel like it's helped me become who I am today... and that's someone who is absolutely, head over heels in love with life.

 

I don't need September 11ths to help remind me of this. I don't need someone near and dear to me to pass away to help remind me of this.

 

Every day is a gift. And I'm SO thankful for it.

 

So yeah, it is another day. HOORAY!
 

So am I

She's growing so much, so fast... this little girl of mine.

This little pink-princess-loving girl of mine.



We spent the weekend doing whatever, whenever. No scheduling of anything other than 10AM gymnastics on Saturday morning. After gymnastics we went out for hot dogs and fries, and, because it was so incredibly picture perfect outside, we ate lunch outdoors- something we never do.

Just the three of us. And some birds, which Lovie quite enjoyed. 

"Look there's the mama bird, the daddy bird, and the [Lovie] bird!"

After lunch we went shopping for a new couch.

Shopping to Lovie means the grocery store or Target so when we walked into a furniture store, she was quite confused and not very happy but she's growing so much, so fast... this little girl of mine. She's learning that sometimes we have to wait, sometimes we have to do things for others.

After two diaper changes in two different furniture stores, it was time to head on home. Lovie still wanted to shop but not for furniture: she wanted bananas and milk. So we headed toward the grocery store and just before arriving, Lovie's eyes and head dropped and she was sound asleep.

"Is there anything else you want to do or get?" I looked at Taye beside me and we headed toward a Starbucks, another furniture store (Taye went in while I sat in the car with Lovie), and computer store, allowing Lovie some time to nap.

By the time we got to the computer store, Lovie woke up and wanted to go in, too. So we went in and she followed Taye around like looking at computer crap was the coolest thing ever.


Sunday, Taye had to go to work in the morning so Lovie and I headed out to Wal-Mart, the park, then to Red Robin for lunch.

This little chica, making pancakes with blue playdoh while patiently waiting for her burger, fries and lemonade is growing so much, so fast.

She's living and loving every moment of it, and so am I.

So am I.

can't you smell that smell?

My stomach hurts.

I’m peeing lots and I’ve got gas cramps. The kind that rumble. The kind that rumble low toward your seat. The kind that sneak out in silence but reek of …

 

death.

 

I’m on day two of eating the shit food again.

 

Once I start, once I truly give in to it- not just a nibble here, a french fry there; but an entire meal of burger with bun, french fries dragged through ketchup, milk shake- I can’t stop. I mean, of course I can, but it’s so hard. And it’s especially so hard while sitting at work watching the damn clock, praying the damn numbers flip on over to quitting time. There’s only so many times I can check Facebook or Twitter and not comment because no one can know I check it during the WORK day. There’s only so many times I can refresh my reader, my email, my work email, message boards.

 

So I think of food.

 

Glorious food.

 

Sweets and salts, salts and sweets, and salty sweets.

 

Crispy crunch…soft gooeyness… melt in your mouth. It doesn’t really matter; if it’s bad for you, it’s what I want. And not just a taste, but all of it.

 

 

I’ve been on a low carb diet for several months now, losing 30 pounds. Yay me, I know… But I have so fucking far to go.

 

I feel good about myself when I restrict the carbs, the sugar; my energy and mood is way higher than when I eat a lot of carbs. Way higher. But yesterday was my birthday… and any excuse to indulge is good enough for stupid me.

 

But again, with me, indulging means to fucking bathe in the shit. I can’t just dabble here and there. No, I have to eat it all.

 

Yesterday it was three huge cookies at the start of the day. Because I brought them in to share for my birthday and because it’s my birthday, I should have one of each. Right? Then I had what I always bring every workday morning: 2 hardboiled eggs. Couldn’t let them go to waste. Followed that show up with lunch out with coworkers: Sesame Chicken, rice, egg roll. Came back to work and couldn’t move without feeling like I would burst. Literally. But for dinner, Taye brought me my choice so I went for it: an Epic Burger and fries.

 

Then he and Lovie made homemade molten lava cake, which, I HAD to eat.

Since I didn't die in my sleep, this morning a trail of silent, deadly gas followed me to the bathroom where I vowed that I would go back to low carb eating. NO bread, NO fucking sugar, NO fries.

So I had 2 hardboiled eggs for breakfast at work.

And about half past bored o’clock, I noticed the snack size KitKat taunting me from the corner of my desk. I slowly peeled the wrapping off while holding it under my desk to avoid having the world hear that I’m opening up a KitKat. And I took a bite into both little sticks.

 

Then I shoved the rest in my mouth and the chocolate eased onto my tongue and roof of my mouth just before the roughness of the wafer. Once I felt the wafer on my tongue, I slowly pressed my teeth together, letting each fiber get soaked with my saliva.

 

Oh it was tasty.

 

So tasty.

 

I stalked the internet some more and quickly grabbed my lunch from the fridge: low carb meal of chicken breast, mayo, cheese, tomatoes, oh my.  At 11:10am.

 

At 12:30pm I moved on to devouring a snack size M&Ms, peanut M&Ms, and snickers bar (all “snack size” so don’t you fret too much).

 

And now my stomach hurts. And my mouth is so dry. And the stench coming out of my ass??

 

WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?!?
 

 

http://yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/74-open/

 

 

TILTW: 9.1-9.7

* Turning 40 (yesterday)? Aint so bad! : ) Flowers from the hubs arrived just before I left work for the day, flowers from my BFF/cousin and a plant from my momma arrived later in the day so that when I came in to work this morning, the celebration continued. The hubs and Lovie made, from scratch, molten lava cake and sang me Happy Birthday while I wore a princess crown Lovie made.

* I'm hosting a Fisher-Price Playdate Party and am getting damn excited. I received notice that two boxes shipped early in the week and last night, on my birthday, one of the boxes arrived: goodies to be given away to my guests!! Now I just wait on the the box of goods with the toys that we'll be playing with (big ticket toys like this, this, and this which Lovie will flip over) and that we get to keep! What's the catch? A) I'm blogging about it, right? B) I'm so damn excited about it and am constantly talking about it. C) I've got like 12 kids coming to the house to play play play! Word of mouth can be a very powerful tool.

Happy 40th Birthday to me!

When I was younger I was damn cute.

So damn cute when I was younger.

on loving me, life, & the big four oh

Just one month ago I was on the beach laying on my stomach with my back baking in the sun. A Cabana boy walked by asking if we’d like an “iced towel” just as beads slid from my back to the front, creating a pool of sweat under my ridiculously ample chest. The iced towel felt like absolute bliss on the back of my neck and soon my eyes dropped for a bit until I could no longer take the heat from the sun, the sweat laminating my skin. My bare feet swept across the prickly hot, shell-littered sand as I made my way into the warm salt water of the Gulf of Mexico which held me up with such ease. I floated with the back of my head submerged in water, marveling over the pristine blue sky with its cotton balls painted ever so daintily here and there.

 
Just one month ago I was in heaven…on earth. And I was there celebrating the first 40 years of my life alongside my BFF/cousin who also turned 40 this year.

We laid around for three full days doing absolutely nothing, and, when we grew tired of that, did a little more Nothing. It was glorious and it was by far the best birthday celebration I’ve had to date.

Oh, but there were other memorable birthdays, don't misunderstand me:  

• 10: I was super giddy to be hitting the double digits; there was no turning back!
• 20: I found my very first gray hair whilst sitting on the stoop outside my sister’s house in Utah where I was spending the summer taking care of her children. I was more than ready to return home, return to my life as a college student at one of the country’s largest arts and media colleges: Me, myself, and my new gray hair.
• 21: Cheap beer in hand, brand new driver’s license with blue background ready to be whipped out, I left the grocery store plastered with WE CARD ANYONE UNDER 30 signs without ever being asked for my ID. The one time I wanted to get carded, I didn’t get carded.
• 25: I had a date with the dentist after biting into a Now and Later candy while working the customer service job I hated and feeling and hearing a POP from inside my mouth (the candy pulled off one of my caps).
• 28: I felt like a 12-year-old with the case of the giggles as my boyfriend (now husband) took me on a “romantic getaway” to a little suite adorned with mirrors EVERYWHERE and a swing in the closet that was to be hung above the illuminated bed.
• 36: I got shingles IN MY MOUTH after spending the day at an apple orchard with little kiddies just one month after having a d&c.
• 39: I spent 6 hours in the emergency room after having been feverish and extremely exhausted for nearly 2 straight weeks (turns out I had some cousin virus to mono).

But now, maybe you can see why laying on the beach with nothing to do for a couple days seems heavenly to me, yes?

So heavenly.

And well deserved, dammit.

I'm not saying my life my 30s haven't been good to me because while there’s only been a couple memorable birthdays in my 30s and not for good reason, I have absolutely no doubt and pause not one bit to say that my 30s have been the best years of my life. There were some damn trying hard times and some very dark days, but overall, they were the best days of my life:

• I learned to love all of me
• I learned to truly not care what others think, how others live
• I learned to live each and every day as fully as I can
• I learned to grab life by the horns and celebrate, which landed me in Heaven on earth one month ago.

And now tomorrow, I really celebrate; because tomorrow is the day I finally turn 40. Yay me!