To say that I am mad, furious, angry, upset, or livid right now would be such a gross understatement. I am so engraged right now that my hands are shaking to the point where it's hard to even type.
Angel sent me an e-Mail saying that she had a proposition for me, that I should call her. Curious, I sent her a text message asking what was up. What followed makes me so fucking furious I can barely speak coherently.
She asked me to convince Bryan to give up ALL of his parental rights to the kids. She tried to tell me that it would be better since we could concentrate on us, devote all our time to Pook, and it would save us money, how the kids more or less hate me, and how he's a horrible father anyway, and he listens to me, so why don't I just put a bug in his ear?
I have several issues with her request. Number one, you do NOT drag my child into this unless you want to suffer a horrible death. You want to drag our innocent child into this mess? Sweety pie, you're going to open Pandoras box. You fuck with my child you fuck with me and trust me, when my temper flares up, Satan himself hides from me. Don't try to tell me how to parent MY DAUGHTER, and don't try to tell me how Bryan should parent OUR DAUGHTER. Don't try to tell me what she does and does not deserve. If you mention my child again, I swear to everything I hold dear you'll be eating from a straw for the rest of your miserable existence.
Secondly, my relationship with Bryan is none of her damn business. Have we hit a rough patch? Sure we have. Like all couples. But we're working through it, and I sincerely believe we will come out stronger for it. Unless and until our relationship starts damaging the kids in some way butt out of it.
Seriously? You're seriously trying to play the money angle with this? Let me tell you something, Twat Face, it wouldn't matter if he paid $6,000 a month in child support and we were eating ramen noodles every night. He will never, never, EVER give up his kids. Would it save us money? I'm sure it would. But those kids are worth every single fucking penny he/we spend on them, and more. Unlike you, Twat Face, we don't put a price on the love we have for them.
The kids DO NOT hate me. Oh, they say I'm mean do they? To be honest, in the beginning, I was overly harsh with them. I was 21 years old, had never dealt with kids before, and I was dealing with two kids who were CONVINCED (thanks to you) that I was here to replace their Mother. Over time, with just plain ole trial and error, guidance from Bryan, and listening & observing the kids, I've gotten MUCH better. I've learned that Bubs is a very sensitive little boy, and that he needs to be parented accordingly. I've learned that T is high spirited, and needs to be handled WORLDS differently than her brother. I've made mistakes but I've admitted to them and learned from them.
Twat Face, you seem to think that Bryan is the worlds worst father. Namely, because he missed a few of T's softball games. But let's examine the facts, shall we? He asked you repeatedly for a game schedule so we could be there. You only told him that she had games on Saturday. When, in reality, she actually played two games a week. But again, something you failed to mention. We still don't have a softball schedule. Oh, he doesn't stay home with them when they're sick? Well, golly, Twat Face, it'd be nice if you'd tell us WHEN THEY'RE SICK. The phone calls at 1800 hours of "Bubs was sick today and I stayed home with him, by the way." is crap. How the hell do you expect him to stay home with them if you don't tell him? I know, I know it's a novel concept.
Speaking of model parenting, let's examine you for a moment. No, no, Twat Face, despite what you think, you're not without blame here. Remember a few years ago? I know most of it is a drunken blur, and that is what I'm pointing out. You wanted absolutely nothing to do with YOUR KIDS unless it was a holiday when you could dress them up and show them off and Oh, aren't you just the perfect little (well, not anymore you're not little) Super Single Mom?! All you did was drink and party. Now, to your credit, you don't do that as much anymore. But again for the first part of their lives all you did was drink and left Bryan to deal with and raise your kids. Great parenting. I mean, honestly, you should write a book. I know!! You could call it, "What To Do If You Want To Scar Your Kids For Life...By Twat Face" Has a nice ring to it, don't it?
Furthermore, you bitch, if you have an issue with Bryans parenting, you need to bring it up with him. Not me. Texting me and sending me e-Mails behind his back is beyond chickenshit. Trying to recruit me into your bullshit plan is beyond stupid. Did you honestly think I'd go along with this? Did you really think I'd not tell Bryan?! How stupid are you? You're either A) incredibly stupid, B) incredibly drunk, C) incredibly high, or D) all of the above.
Lastly, Twat Face, don't ever try to tell me you love your kids again. If you truly loved them, you would not take them away from the father they absolutely ADORE and love. There's a damn good reason every time they see him they run up to him as fast as they can and give him bear hugs. Because they LOVE him. He is NOT a bad parent. He's not the perfect parent, but then again neither am I, and you're the furthest from perfect I've ever seen. You're right up there with my mother, which is scary to say the least. If you loved your kids even one iota, you'd never even think to take those kids away from him. And frankly, taking away those kids would kill Bryan. Literally. He loves all three of his kids with everything he has, and so do I.
If it weren't for the fact that it's illegal, and it would crush the kids, I swear to God I'd have no problems bitch slapping your pockmarked face until you finally got it. If you were laying in the gutter on fire, I wouldn't piss on you to save your life. I'd probably take a nice, healthy dump in your mouth. I hate you that much. You've enraged me to a point I've never been at before. You screwed with my kid. You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Twat Face.
Because I've been sick for the last week and a half, and high from the codiene cough syrup this is going to be ever so slightly random. Okay, it's going to be completley random and most of this will make sense to me and me only. You've been warned.
-When you're home all day with little to no energy to speak of, what do you do? If you're me, you watch TV after you've read every damn book in the house. You know what I discovered? Daytime TV blows. I've also noticed that the Today show portion with Yoda and Kathie Lee almost always involves liquor. Interesting.
-You know you can only get Sudafed with a prescription? At least in Washington state. Because apparently it's used to make meth. This reeks of what-the-fuckery. Sudafed is the only thing making it somewhat possible for me to breathe through my nose. Now I have to schedule a doctors appointment for them to authorize a refill and go down to the pharmacy. As opposed to running up to the Safeway and being back home in 10 minutes. Damn meth heads.
-Here's a Catch-22 about being sick. You take the medicine, you feel better. So I look around and see things that need to be done. I start doing them. An hour later I'm plugged up, in pain, and exhausted. Which prolongs the damn illness because I'm supposed to resting and "taking it easy". But again, I feel better, I do stuff. Then I get worse. Then I get better. It's a vicious cycle.
-There is, however, a positive note to being sick. My right side gets plugged up. My right ear is so plugged up I can't hear anything out of it. Which is kinda nice because if I just don't wanna chat right at that moment I can walk away and say, "Oh, what? I'm sorry I can't hear you, plugged ear." Not that I'd ever do that.....
-Lounging around in your PJ's is kinda nice. I feel wealthy. Because don't only wealthy women lounge around all day drinking coffee and browsing Perez Hilton?
-Pooker Butt will be one on Saturday. How the hell did this happen? Where did the time go?
-Her birthday party will be Barbie themed. And noooo, it's got nothing to do with the small fact that I loved Barbies until I was like 12 and had EVERY SINGLE FUCKING BARBIE AND ACCESORY. Nope. It's got everything to do with the fact that it's pink and girly. And the fact that I always wanted one of those cakes that have a Barbie doll sticking out and NEVER GOT ONE because H1 never liked Barbies and "You two need to find a cake you agree on". The injustice of it all.
-Although they all have perfectly understandable reasons, I'm still pretty bummed that it looks like most of my family won't be attending. H1 just started a new job and can't get the time off, and she also just had two wisdom teeth pulled and had some complications from that. My stepmom goes in for surgery on Thursday, and she can't travel. I'm praying for her, and I ask y'all do the same. The Old Wolf might be coming, but it depends on how my stepmom feels. He's not going to leave her if she's feeling crappy. Like I said, all perfectly understandable & reasonable reasons. But I'm still bummed.
-Joe will NOT be coming. I'd rather invite Satan himself than have him here.
So Sunday night I came down with what I thought was the flu. It sucked but whatever. I had a high fever and whatnot and by Monday I was over the fever, just completely exhausted. And I've been coughing NONSTOP and blowing my nose every other fucking minute. I figured, okay so I got over the flu and now I have a cold.
Since my azz aint got no insurance, I've been doing every single home or OTC remedy I could think of. Neti pots, humidifiers, Vicks VapoRub, throat lozenges, day time cough syrup, night time cough syrup, steam...Everything. But this morning I was coughing so hard that I couldn't get a breath, I was choking and gagging and throwing up. Okay, okay, I give up. Fine. I'll go to the doctor.
I have "influenza with broncopneumonia" which apparently is fancy-schmancy talk for walking pneumonia. I tried to argue "Okay, but I'm a Mom. I don't get sick. Can I still go to work? No? Just for a few hours? PLEASE?!" Nope. I'm supposed to park myself on the couch or in bed and drink TONS of fluids.
The worst part is that until I'm fully recovered, I can't touch my baby girl. I "can't risk getting her sick with this" and since she's already sick...Yeah....This sucks. I can't hold her?! WHAT?! Every morning I pick her up from her crib, she lays her head down on my shoulder, and just gives me this amazing full body hug. Her legs wrap around my torso, and her arms go aroudn my neck. It's my little slice of Nirvana every day. And now I have to miss that. I think that's worse than any illness I could possibly have.
Well, Sunday night I came down with the flu. I haven’t had the flu since I was a kid. It came complete with the chills, the sweats, a high fever, and if I acted now I also lost the ability to breathe! All this was mine for the low, low price of my dignity. I had two fleece blankets, an army blanket, and two heated rice bags on me and I still could not get warm.
I actually alternated between being bone-deep cold and stripping down to my granny panties and sports bra hot. This lasted until about one AM when I finally fell asleep. Until four AM. When I woke up freezing again.
I’ve been slugging orange juice, TheraFlu, and Jewish Penicillin like it’s going out of style. My entire day has been spent on the couch either watching shiteous daytime television or napping.
To add a cherry on top, guess what!! Pook is also sick. She’s had a runny nose and a cough for the last few days. We figured nothing major, just a cold. Until her eyes started oozing a green pussy crap. Then I thought, “Fucking lovely. I’ve got the flu, and I’m worthless. I thought Moms didn’t get sick? Now she’s got a cold AND pink eye.”
Down to the doctors office we go. Pook and I must’ve been a sorry lot. She’s got green crap oozing out of her eyes, my nose is a slow leak faucet, and we’re both cranky and needing naps.
Turns out she doesn’t have pink eye. Apparently her nose isn’t draining properly so it’s going up into her tear ducts and out her eye balls. So, basically, my kid has snot and boogers oozing out of her eye balls. And we’re supposed to clean it out all the time. You can’t make this shit up, folks.
In all my sick, demented visions of being a mother I never saw this. Wiping up puke, sure. Cleaning up snot rockets? Childs play. Cleaning up snot from my kids eyes?! Nope, can’t say as I ever imagined that.
Today hasn't been a great day. Let's see...There was the seizure I had Saturday night, and yet again I turned the right side of my tongue into hamburger meat. And oh yeah, I KEEP BITING THE DAMN THING. I can't eat anything, I can't drink anything, (and trust me, me without coffee is NOT a pretty sight) and I certainly can't smoke. (Don't start, I know it's a nasty habit.) To top that off, Aunt Flo is visiting and I hate that woman. So, to review....No caffiene, no nicotine, and PMS. Oh and Pook is cutting another tooth so she's nice and cranky as hell.
Yeah, my day is going soooo freaking great. To top that off, Bryan is trying to get me to come back and that's throwing me for a wrench. John got laid off today and his daughter is sick. Again. It's a fun time in the Hell Household.
Isn't Easter supposed to be sunny? Kind of like natures way of saying "Hey, God! Thanks for giving the world your Son, and hey, Jesus! Thanks for dying for our sins!" Instead, it was a gloomy overcast rainy windy day. Ummm. Mother Nature....Whatcha trying to tell the Alpha & Omega here?
I mention the shiteous weather because THIS! WAS! POOKS! EASTER! Easter dress! White patent leather Mary Janes! Photos outside in the grass! Not to be. For one, the weather couldn't cooperate so there was no photo ops. Two, Pook wasn't exactly filled with the Holy Spirit that day.
She. Was. So. Damn. Fussy. If you weren't holding her, she'd scream. Diaper? Fresh. Bottle? Eschewed. Tired? Hell no, that's too damn easy. So, needless to say, trying to wrestle her into the CUTEST little overpriced Easter dress, tights, and shoes wasn't happenin'.
By the time I got her into her dress, it was time for Bryan to take her to Easter at his parents house. Of course. Naturally she's good for my ex. Mother #$%^&!!!!
So we stayed in the new house last week. And it's got this loooong window that conveniently provides a direct view into the neighbors kitchen.
The neighbor, heretofore, will be called COG (Creepy Old Guy). It's a well deserved title.
So the other day I stepped out of the shower and there wasn't any towels, since they'd been called to do battle with the mighty Overflowing Toilet. The battle was won by the towels, who sopped up the water on the floor. (Thank you, Jay-sus Bry was only flushing a tissue and not...Well, you know.) Anywho, the towels. Right. There wasn't any.
So I went into the bedroom, stark naked, and started rooting around for a towel, not even thinking about my uncurtained window. I then remembered it, and lo & behold! There's COG getting a full-on view on my lady lumps. And looooving it. Hell, I doubt he's seen anything that young since Carter was in office. I ran, shrieking, back into the bathroom, and desperately covered myself in the jammies I had strewn on the floor.
Even though my home life isn't yippity-doo-dah-yippity yay happy right now, hell, at least someone's happy.
-Weird things make me happy. Like having exact change. Or waking up at exactly 6:30. Or when I fill up my tank and it's exactly $20.00. I think I should've included this in the Quirks blog for Jen.
-In a roaringly funny twist of karma...Joe hates cats. Joe moved into his Aunts house. Who just happens to have five cats. Karma's a bitch, aint it?
-I've found that my office scarily imitates The Office. Down to Dwight. (Shudder)
-If I'm paperclipping shtuff together, I have to have all the same color paper clips. I'll root around until I find what I need or choose a different color.
-Letting Pook sleep in our bed from 0600 hours until 0730 wasn't a great idea, because now we've created a monster. One that will sleep in her own bed tonight. If it kills me.
-When unpacking, unpack underwear first!! Cannot stress this one enough. There's nothing like rooting around in a box for 20 minutes trying to find panties when you're already late for work.
-Texting an April Fools message, "So I just tested and yeah...We're pregnant again" to the BF who doesn't want more kids isn't the smartest idea.
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