Heidi's Hell Hole - Spin Cycle Me

Of frogs and princes

Wed, 27 May 2009 10:24:53 +0700

I haven’t been on the dating scene for awhile, that is true. But before I got married, divorced, and started dating Bryan, I had my fair share of dates. (Yes, Pook, yo’ Mama used to be a hottie.) Here’s some tales.

My first formal dance, I went with a kid named Scott. It was the first dance for the both of us. We were both nervous. We went to a local “upscale” burger joint. I sat there, fidgeting and fussing with my corsage, trying awkwardly to make conversation. I ordered a soup and salad. Scott ordered a garlic onion burger. Oy Vey. The slow dances were awkward, to say the least. He didn’t get a kiss at the end of the night. I heard later that his Dad took him aside to school the boy on what not to order on a date.

My ex-husband proposed in the worst possible way. First of all, if you’re gonna propose marriage to a gal, have a damn ring. And make it a bit more romantic than, “Hey, you wanna get married?” So, when I told him he’d need a ring and something better than “Hey, you wanna get married?” bless his heart, he tried. We went to a hockey game, even though I could care less about hockey. The game was uneventful. When we got out to the car he smacked his head and yelled, “CRAP!” I thought he’d forgotten something back in the arena, but no. He’d forgotten to propose. Le sigh. Way to say you care. He said he was going to propose during the game, with us up on the Megatron. But he’d forgotten. I grabbed the box from the glove compartment and jammed it on my finger. And yet, I still married him…Omens, anyone?

Right after Pook was born, Bryan and I went out to try and celebrate our two year anniversary together. I was only 3 weeks postpartum, leaky, hormonal, tired, and not in the best of moods. But we made plans to go out to dinner & a movie, and my inlaws would watch Pook for a few hours. I had given up on nursing that very day. Nobody told me I’d still lactate, and that I’d still need my nursing pads. Me, not having the forethought to read up on that kind of stuff, stuffed a fresh pair of pads into my bra and left for dinner. Halfway through dinner the waitress asked if I needed a towel. Puzzled, I asked why. She said I’d spilled water on my blouse. I looked down…No, that wasn’t water. I was leaking everywhere. I ran into the bathroom, betrayed by my pads. I ended up stuffing scratchy paper towels down my shirt. After the movie, I was leaking again. I ended up going into the handicapped stall and more or less milking myself into the toilet. It wasn’t a great date.

Bryan and I had a rather unusual start. For one, I was freshly separated from my ex-husband. I was freeeee! Problem is, he’d cleaned out everything in the studio we had, leaving me with a mattress on the floor, a TV on the floor, and a set of flannel sheets in the middle of May. Oh yeah, in a display of maturity, he’d also completely trashed the place. Bryan offered to come over and help me put the place back together. Our first “date” involved going behind the grocery outlet to get milk crates to use as a box spring, and dumpster diving for a TV stand. (That we still have, by the way.) And, as a final romantic touch to the afternoon, he bought me Taco John’s. Ain’t he something? Hey, something obviously worked, we’re here three years later. We ended our perfect evening by going to a local bar for a few rounds of pool, Jell-O shooters, and beer. We’re klas-see.

That's about all I have. At least that I'm willing to post on the Internet. Hey, my Dad reads this stuff.

Our pets are special

Fri, 22 May 2009 10:37:00 +0700

So the Spin Cycle this week is pets. My family has a thing for getting “special” animals. Here’s a few stories I have. The Old Wolf can add to them.

My parents bought my sister and I parakeets. I can’t remember why, but they did. I had a bright blue one, Skylar. My friend Julie and I were playing with Skylar on the carpet. My Mom told me a gazillion times that playing with Skylar in a high traffic area wasn’t a great idea. Because, I figured how can you miss a neon blue bird? As it turns out, it was pretty easy to miss. My Mom stepped on Skylar. Blood everywhere, and me screaming, “MOOOOOM!!! YOU STEPPED ON SKYLAR!”

So, my sister and I held a funeral for Skylar. We glued two popsicle sticks together to form a cross and wrote “Skylar” in red magic marker. We’d never been to a funeral before, so we sang what we knew of Amazing Grace, (which was just those two words) and said what we knew of the Gettysburg Address. (Which was, “Four score and seven years ago….Um, yeah…”) And then we played tetherball. Grief does funny things to you.

*                      *                      *

My Dad’s friend Larry lived with us for awhile. Uncle Larry had a “special” cat named Pooter. Pooter was blind in one eye and couldn’t walk a straight line. He’d walk in circles in the general direction to where he was going. He’d get there, eventually. He’d also walk into a wall, back up, and do it again. He’d continue to do that until you moved him. I shouldn’t laugh but….COME ON! The cat was retarded!

*                      *                      *

One summer day my Dad went out to his truck to find the cutest little black kitten on his hood. So, he brought it in, and we adopted it. Everything was going well, the cat appeared to be house trained. We left one night, and the cat somehow got locked in my bedroom. We came home and I was on the phone with my new boyfriend. I wasn’t paying attention, and flopped down on the bed. Soupy kitty crap goes flying up everywhere. I screamed bloody murder. I threw the phone and whipped around.

There’s soupy kitty crap in my hair, running down my shirt, into my bra. I’m freaking out and spinning around, thus sending crap all over my walls. My Mom and Dad come running in, as does H1. They’re trying to get me to stop and trying to stop laughing. I ended up being hosed down outside. The kitty quickly found a new home.

*                      *                      *

My ex husband and I had a cat for awhile, Spook. Spook was such a cool cat, personality plus. Spook didn’t start out special, she ended up special. My ex and I were transferring the navy blue sheets from the washer into the dryer. We slammed the dryer shut and prepared to leave. We heard this thump, thump, thump in the dryer. Thinking a shoe had somehow gotten in there, we opened it up.

Out shoots this black fur ball. Apparently, Spook being a curious cat, had gotten in the dryer and we hadn’t seen her jump in. We’d accidentally locked the cat in the dryer. After that, she never was right. Her balance was off, she couldn’t walk a straight line, and she was cross eyed.

So yeah….We’ve got special pets. Never a dull moment at my house.

OH! OH! Me! Pick meee!

Tue, 12 May 2009 16:34:16 +0700

So the new Spin Cycle is all about Prom.

Let me tell you about Prom in my world.

It was my life. Our school had a mixed Prom, meaning it was both Juniors and Seniors. I went all four years, via convincing the upperclassmen to buy me tickets. (Yeah, I was the annoying but cute freshman girl at your Prom.) Hell, I even went to others schools Proms. I went to one after I graduated because it was one last chance to dress up. (Senior Prom, apparently wasn't enough.) All in all, I think I figured that between Homecoming, & Prom between my school and other schools I went to something like 9 or ten dances. All with different gowns. (And for the most part, different guys.) (What? I didn't have very many girlfriends. I liked having guys as friends better.)

Ironically, for all the dances I went to I never once won Homecoming or Prom Queen. (YES, JESSICA, I KNOW YOU HAD THE ENTIRE CHEERLEADING SQUAD VO

I think it's something that can best be described in a pictorial. I've picked some of the best (or worst, depending on how you look at it) for your amusement.

Notice how I mostly ascribed to "Bigger the hair the closer to God" theory? And don't you love the tanorexic look?

Same dance. Yes, you're seeing it right. That's Adam. Wearing his ghee top. That he worked out in. Hey, SHUT UP, ALRIGHT? We were cool!

The theme was Oriental Romance. So I bought a traditional Cheong-Sam and yes, that's the same ghee top. Don't ask about the cheesy pose, okay? BTW, that's Cody, Adam's friend.

Again, with the bigger the hair, the closer to God theme. And that is Dave, Adam's brother. (Seeing a theme? I SWEAR we were all friends and no one minded.)

This is Senior Homecoming. That is Scott, Adam's friend. And yes, that's his cleaned up look. Did I mention at the time of this picture he was like 20? Hey, I needed a date dammit.

Okay, this is like the ONE picture where my hair isn't HUGE. But I go for drama with my gowns, (I know, right? Me? Dramatic? Never.) I loved the hugeness of the skirt, (which was helped by a crinoline), the bustle and the train. I loved it ALL.

Senior Prom. I took some foreign exchange student who I actually left at the Prom. What can I say, he was a douche. I was actually recovering from a nasty sunburn, and this picture was taken before my LOVELY twin sister told me to get rid of the peeling skin on my back she'd put duct tape on my back and she'd rip it off. Problem is, I believed her. The subsequent pictures aren't so pretty. Bitch.

Years from now, I'll have to explain to Pook, "You see honey, back then white tuxes and white patent leather shoes were the shit." This was the last formal dance I went to. I had already graduated. This is Caleb, Adam and I's friend.

To recap: I went to a dance with Adam, his brother Dave, his BFF Scott, his friend Cody and Caleb. Familiarity doesn't breed contempt all the time, folks.

Okay, so the Old Wolf whined, I mean howled about how I didn't post pic of the cars. And yeah...Daddy loves his pweshush weshush widdle baby girl. Daddy and I share of love of cheap booze, greasy foods, BBQ, and fine cars. We're klas-see like that, y'all. So this was what Daddy got me for Senior Prom. Again, mah Daddy loves me.

And since this shittin' Weebly platform HATES me it won't let me upload the other pics. But never fear! I will keep trying!

The second one is actually a car that belonged to a friend of his. This was, remember, after I had graduated. But again...Mah Dadday loves me. Neener neener neener.

That red car? Yeah, it's a Ferrari. For my sweet sixteen. Notice I'm wearing pleather pants to match the leather interior? Again, I'm classy like that. Oh, what's that? Your parents took you out to dinner? That's quaint. My Dadday rented (from his boss, no less) an Italian sports car. Guess I'm just loved.

Spin Cycle: Quirks

Fri, 20 Mar 2009 11:13:37 +0700

I haven’t spun in a while, but when I saw Jen’s new topic: quirks, how could I resist? I’ve got so many it’s unreal. Here’s a running list, that I’m sure the Old Wolf, (who has yet to blog for me) will add onto.

1)       I put nondairy creamer in my mug, then coffee. Stirring takes too much time.

2)       In the shower, I wash my face first, then hair, then my body, then I shave my legs. Every single time, there is no deviation from this. I hate the feel of my oily face in the morning, and I do my hair second because if there’s less water in it, it takes less time to dry. (Right?)

3)       When I curl my hair, I start at the right side and work my way around to the left.

4)       I coordinate my scents for the day. Citrus body wash = citrus body spray, and so on and so forth. I’m anal about that, I don’t know why.

5)       When I do my makeup (if I do) it’s concealer, foundation, blush, highlighting shimmer, base shadow, eyeliner, and mascara. Again, something I never deviate from. Depending on the look I’m going for will determine how I do my eyes. I know, I’m weird.

6)       If I don’t have covers or something against my back when I’m asleep I feel vulnerable and I can’t sleep. At all. Because you know, mutant ninjas will attack me in my sleep and knife me in the back.

7)       When I boot up my PC at work, I boot up the Web, Messenger, e-Mail, then my system. If the icons aren’t right in my Start bar, I’ll shut down everything until they are.

8)       I absolutely CANNOT work at all unless I have music in the background. Actually, there’s not much I can’t due without music.

9)       I eat one thing at a time. I can’t take a bite of something, and then move onto something else. Maybe I’m autistic.

10)   When I check my gossip sites, I go to The Superficial first, Perez Hilton, and TMZ.

11)   I am the Grammar-Spelling-Pronunciation Nazi. It irritates the hell out of me if someone doesn’t spell something correctly, if their punctuation is off, or if they can’t pronounce something right. Repeatedly. Bryan.

So, yeah, there’s a few of them. I’m sure there’s more that I can’t think of right now. Feel free to add more. Love you, Internets!

Spin Cycle: Guilt

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 11:48:20 +0700

You want the truth about guilt? You can't handle the truth!

Sorry. I just woke up and I've only had 2 cups of coffee.

Let me tell you about guilt. Here's the two things in my life I feel guilty about. 1) My relationship with my Mother. 2) Being a Mother.

The relationship with my Mother is rocky at best. It's always been that way. Growing up in a very Bible-centered family, she loved to quote the Fifth Commandment: Honor thy Father and thy Mother. Any time I was arguing with her, misbehaving, or being a pain in the ass, she'd quote that line. It's gotten worse over the last few years, chiefly because her and my Father are divorcing. She likes to insult my Father to me, and I refuse to hear it. And the teeny tiny little fact that I'm closer to him than her. But, since Pooker Butt is just like me, (God has a sense of humor, so it seems), she's a great source of information. She's also bought a ton of stuff for her and I. When I was pregnant, she bought me lots of maternity clothes. When Pook made her appearance, she bought her a ton of stuff. But that doesn't negate the emotional turmoil she causes. Sometimes I feel like she's trying to buy me off. I feel guilty for taking her stuff, I feel like a gold digger. But on the other hand, its stuff we need. And I do love her. Deeply. So while I try to maintain that delicate balance between actually having a relationship with her, but not letting her destroy my sanity, guilt enters in. It's complicated.

Mommy Guilt...Again, we have a rocky relationship. Somewhere between making sure your child has plenty of play time with you and being too tired to even think, Mommy Guilt comes in. The feeling of giving your best, and the feeling that your best isn't good enough. I look and I see ads for playgroups, baby development workshops/toys/programming and I think to myself "Wouldn't it be nice if we could do that?" but then I think of the bills we need to pay this week and the idea gets nixed. Then I feel Mommy Guilt. Then I think to myself, "You know, Heidi, they didn't have this when your parents were growing up, or when you and Heat were growing up, and y'all turned out just fine." Then I remember how screwed up I am, and that little voice inside my head shuts up. Mommy Guilt: don't leave home without it!

Spin Cycle: Why Heidi's Hell Hole?

Wed, 10 Dec 2008 16:18:26 +0700

Why, you ask?

Because this is my little slice of Hades. And frankly, I like the way Heidi's Hell Hole sounded. Besides, there's always something making my life hell.

Psychobitch ex wife? Check!

Psychotic, alcohalic mother? Check!

Job I can't stand? Check!

Roommate I love & hate (mostly hate?) Check!

Infant who's already testing her boundaries? Check!

When I was thinking about what to name this, I thought of a scene from the Birdcage with Robin Williams. The evening is going to shit and he puts his arm around his son and says, "So this is hell?" and it just stuck.

Hell is when you have a screaming, teething baby on your hip, 2 kids running full steam ahead in the house, 1 dog who's barking, 1 who just peed in the hallway, your mother on the phone about how easy it was for her, and the exwife on the way to pick up the kids who haven't eaten dinner yet.

Yes, I've been there.

Spin Cycle: Family Newsletter

Mon, 01 Dec 2008 14:15:49 +0700

Sprites Kepper does a Spin Cycle every week. She chooses a topic, and you put your own spin on it. (Hence the name Spin Cycle.) This week it is a family newsletter. Here's mine:

Dear Family,

This year has been a roller coaster. In April, we moved into a shit-hole house in a shit-hole neighborhood. I guess it was a God-send. I mean, we exchanged our deposits for work on this house. Imagine 8 months pregnant me trying to paint and scrub windows. But still, this house is a shit hole. This places costs a small fortune to heat. There is no storage for the ten tons of crap we have. And, oh yeah...The block across from us is owned by the Spokane Psychiatric Assocation. Translation: the block across the street is used as a half way house for the mentally insane. Nothing quite like being woke up at three am because "NIXON IS GOING TO KILL ME!!!" is being screamed at the top of some ladies lungs. The dive bar across the other street adds a nice touch of culture, too.

In April I also spent a week in the hospital with a ginormous blood clot in my lungs. My OB decided to put me on a heavy duty blood thinner that hurt like a mother to be injected into me. He also decided that with my epilepsy and clots, he wanted to control every single aspect of my labor and delivery. They were going to induce me and control everything. I was disappointed because dammit, I wanted to rush in the room, clutching my basketball belly and say "We need to go. It's time." But that was not to be. So, after two weeks of going stir crazy I had a massive seizure. That moved up my due date by two weeks. After 17 grueling hours, 2 epidurals (one of which failed), many doses of Pitocin, a crochet hook in my hoo-ha to break my water, nine (I shit thee not) seizures, and one emergency C-Section later, Pooker was born at 2025 hours. All 7.6 ounces, 20.25 inches of her. She was born exactly one month early, at 36 weeks. She is the biggest source of joy, love, happiness, sleeplessness, and frustration in my life.

I also sold my trusty old Mercedes in July. I didn't want to, since it was my last vestige of non-Mama hood. But alas...Since Bryan is almost seven feet tall...He couldn't fit into it really well to being with...Add in one baby car seat, one childs booster seat, and one long-legged little girl...It's worse than a sardine can. So we sold it.

In the summer, Bubs played football...Sorta. He didn't really care for the sport...Oh, who am I kidding? He couldn't give a rats ass about the sport. He pretty much just stood there on the field. He was more excited when snack time rolled around than having a ball tossed around. But he had a decent season, and his team did okay.

We're not doing too bad. Sure, we live paycheck to paycheck and we have to budget down to the freaking penny...But at least we still have our jobs, which I know is definetly something I thank God for. Our house is warm, even though is costs a small fortune to heat. Our cable is on so I can get my daily fix of What Not To Wear on the DVR, and the internet is on so I can get my daily Mommy blogs fix.

So, beloved family...That is my year on a nutshell. Aside from the move and the new baby, nothing too exciting. I need to let y'all go now, Stacey and Clinton and I have an appointment.