All By Myself With the Four Horsechildren of the Apocalypse

It's been a long time since I was a single mom.  Back in the old days, with one kid, and parents to help me, it was a breeze.  I had the perfect little accessory to every outfit, a little baby doll to dress, and a cute, cooing little ball of sunshine to wake up to every day.  Life was swell.

Get married, have more babies, babies grow up, people grow apart.

Now I'm alone with four small people who expect me to have all the answers.

I need a cheat sheet.

Big Time

Now that I have a WHOPPING 4 followers (ok 3, I'm actually following myself), I think I owe it to my devoted fans to write a shiny, new blog.  This one is all about cheese, possibly bacon, and how it all seems to follow my ass around.

Since my surgery in March, I have been working toward a goal of getting back on skates, and once again, becoming an upstanding citizen of roller derby.  I have been through physical therapy, training at home, jogging, walking, hopping, skipping, anything I can do to strengthen my leg to it's former glory.  So far, this has been going well, and I had hoped, as I'm sure others hope, that a side effect of all my effort may be some rewarding weight loss.  This, however, IS NOT SO. 

I don't drink sodas on the regular anymore, I drink water.  I cut WAY back on the bacon and cheese.  Lots of leafy greens.  Fresh veggies from my own garden.  Lean meats in moderation.  The occasional reward of a tiny morsel of sweetness.  I track calories, I keep a log of my exercise, and by all calculations, I should weigh about 145 pounds.  Once again, THIS IS NOT SO.

While I am still weighing in under my pre-last-baby weight, I'm still sporting quite  few extra pounds, particularly in the everywhere region.  I find this to be the toughest region to drop weight from.  I'm not sure where the sabotage to my diet is happening.  Do I sleepwalk to the fridge in the middle of the night for cheese and bacon?  It's possible.  I've done stranger things.  I think a more plausible explanation is that alien life forms are using my body for experiments, like putting high-calorie supplements in my water bottles and lite salad dressings to see if the resulting weight gain creates stress and confusion in the average working-class adult female. 

Well, Alien Life Forms, the answer to that question is a resounding YES!!! So stop your crazy experiments and let me get back to my skinny jeans.

Ok, I've never had skinny jeans.  I just want single digit jeans. 

AND Why is my 'a' key sticking?!?  It's infuriating.

Back to the cheese and bacon I promised.  These foods can be a healthy and delicious addition to any diet when taken in moderation.  WHO THE FUCK HAS THAT KIND OF WILLPOWER?  Cheese and bacon are fucking delicious.  You can't just eat one strip of bacon or one ounce of cheese.  Why do they even offer these up as serving sizes?  It's complete BULLSHIT.  On the package, it should say:

 Bacon.  Serving size, 1 pound.  You will die of a heart attack, lard ass, but you'll die happy.  1500 calories, a literal assload of fat.

Cheese.  Serving size, 1 block.  Add crackers.  Blocks up your colon and gives you wicked gas, but it's so creamy and delicious!  2000 calories, fatty. 

At least this approach doesn't fool you into thinking that these foods are going to help you achieve anything other than an ass as glorious as my own. 

Excuse me, now.  I feel an otherworldly compulsion to make a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich.  Adieu. 

           

What was I thinking?

Usually when I take a picture of myself, it's for a reason.  I actually HATE to have my picture taken, because I'm usually making some dumbass face or not paying attention or being completely fake.  If I do it myself, many times the picture ends up reflecting back my mood or something in particular that I've been pondering.  Since it's only obvious to me what I was thinking at that precise moment, I've decided to pass this along to you, my 2 followers.

Here, I was thinking "Damn my skin looks nice today"!  Not kidding.

I don't ever go outside, so here I was thinking that I'd provide some proof that I'm not a vampire.  See?

Here, I was thinking about something awesome that had happened the previous evening.  It's probably not what you think.

I was thinking that I looked pretty good for being 15 weeks pregnant...and that I deserved a crown for making it that far with the most awful morning sickness ever. 

Here I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have such a beautiful baby after such a long, difficult pregnancy.  I wanted to take a picture to send to daddy.


One more:

First thing in the morning....i just had a really nice dream, and i wanted to remember that smile on my face.  Not telling who I was dreaming about. 

That's all.  All my recent pictures have sad stories behind them, so I'll spare you the tears. 

what the hell?

I'm feeling quite selfish at the moment, and more than a little angry with myself for letting my life get into the tangled state of affairs that it is.  I've sacrificed everything I wanted for myself in order to keep the peace and to try to salvage what was left of my marriage and family.  I gave up many things that brought me solace and hope to focus on what was supposed to be important.  I tried to be grateful.  I tried to be thoughtful and helpful.  I hoped it would make a difference and that my life would feel more meaningful and fulfilled. 

So it turns out that all this is bullshit.  Of course, my children come first, and every breath I take is for them and their happiness, but all the other things: the house, the car, the job, the money, the whatever, is completely useless when you are fucking miserable.  So now, the kids notice that I'm unhappy.  My friends don't want to hang out with me anymore because I'm such a downer.  Even my cat hates me. 

How do you find the time to remake your life with four children, one full time and one part time job, bills to pay, obligations to honor, and a complete lack of money and energy?  Where do you start?  I fucked it all up.  I tried to fix it, but it's too broken, and now I need to start over...but where, and how?

My kids are all I have right now, and I can't lay all this on them.  I really just need someone who will sit with me, listen to my sob shit story, tell me to stop whining and be a big girl, possibly slap me upside the head, then give me a hug and tell me it will all be ok.  It will be ok.....won't it?

In the Before Time...

I've decided that since my brain is mush, and I can't come up with a new thought to save my pathetic life, I'm going to rehash some old myspace blogs for your (all 3 of you) enjoyment.  So here:  read my shit.

So anyway, it seems I haven't written anything in a while, and I know how disappointing that must be to the 2 people who read my senseless drivel, so I shall now give you what you both have been waiting so long for:
A mind-numbing narrative on the current state of my being - coded in obscure metaphor so you'll have no idea what I'm talking about.

My life is a mushroom.  No, not that kind of mushroom, but then again, maybe it is.  My mushroom resides on the cold, damp floor of a forest, shaded by a dense canopy of flora, surrounded by other mushrooms, none of them quite as plump and juicy as mine.  She waits.  She knows not for what she is waiting, but that's all that mushrooms can fucking do, you understand?  Sometimes it rains, and when it does, the rain just puddles around her little mushroom stem, pissing her off.  What can she do? 
Wait.  Duh.

Sometimes the mushroom catches little glimpses of sunshine through the leafy roof above.  Brief moments of warmth and light.  Enough to satisfy the short, dull existance of a mushroom.  The wind blows.  The canopy seals.  The sunlight is gone. 
The mushroom waits.  Again.

The poor mushroom is very misunderstood.  Many believe that it is a mushroom's fate to be sauteed in butter or served with pasta, but is that really all a mushroom is good for?  Perhaps the mushroom does not want to be eaten?  Or if she does, maybe she wants to be savored - whole and raw - just like nature intended.  Perhaps mushrooms just want the chance to grow like everything else and not be plucked up before their time and thrust unceremoniously into the hungry mouths of passersby.  It's quite possible that they like to sit and wait.  But how should we know?

We aren't mushrooms.

The Car Gods Taketh Away..

I've put so much time and effort into just having a basic, running vehicle in the past year.  I worked several jobs to pay for the repairs, spent almost my entire tax refund replacing the engine, and spent a lot of time walking to the bus stop while I waited for it all to come together. What reward do I get for my efforts?  I get my tag confiscated by the Gas House PD.   Not only were the inspection and tag dead (new engine wouldn't pass inspection), but I had a 2 day lapse in insurance back in November and neglected to turn in my tag.  So, a year or so and about 4 grand later, I get a semi-functional car in the driveway that I get to pass by as I walk my hobbly ass to the bus stop to go to work in the morning. 

fuck.

anyone out there got a bike for sale?

I am sad.

Today I saw an ex-very-dear-friend-of-mine.  We used to be best buds..he was one of the first people I really made grown up friends with, and I thought we would be besties forever.  I was wrong.  I met someone else. 

This particular friend was the first of many casualties of my roller derby/beer/karaoke habit.  My friend and I would get together 2 or 3 nights a week to watch musicals, sing, cook dinner, and just pal and buddy around while my kids were playing their little kid games.  My grown-up time.  Then roller derby came along and swept me off my feet.  The time commitment was huge.  The after practice get togethers were fun.  The beer was cheap.  The karaoke was awesome.  My friend was left behind for my brand new hobby that came complete with brand new friends.

I tried to get him involved with roller derby, but it just wasn't his thing.  I tried to make plans around my practice schedule, but something always came up.  Eventually, it turned out he no longer had time for me, and he moved on.  I was so busy with my new life that I hardly noticed.

I saw him today, and for a second, I got really excited.  I wanted to run up to him and give him a huge hug and tell him about all the crazy things that have happened over the last 4 years.  I really miss him, and I wanted him to be happy to see me.  He saw me, but he just kind of blinked and turned the other way.  Not even a hello.  God. I. Am. The. Worst. Friend. Ever.

This is the worst feeling in the world.....to realize that you are a dirtbag piece of shit low life no good crap ass non-friend. 

The worst part is that he isn't the only person I did this to....I hope if you are reading this, you realize I'm talking to you, Squishy, and I'm sorry. 

I guess I don't know if I can ever make things right, but at the very least, I'm hopeful that this realization will keep me from making the same mistake in the future.  Friends are priceless, but you never really understand that value until you have none. 

 

Delusions of Mediocre

I keep turning on the windshield wipers in my car instead of the headlights.  I have repeated this annoying mistake countless times since I got my car out of the shop.  I realize it has been a few months since the van and I were together, but is that really long enough to completely forget where the light turn on-y thing is?  Maybe lack of sleep has left me completely unable to think and learn properly.  I haven't been sleeping well at all since my knee surgery, and I've noticed a few other things amiss in my everyday activities.  I've heard stories of new moms doing some pretty strange things when they are faced with sleep deprivation for the first time, but I'm a pro...with 4 kids, I haven't had a decent night's sleep in over 13 years...so why would it be affecting me so harshly all of a sudden?  I'm not sure, but here are some more wacky things I've done this week:

Tried to open my store with my house key.  Everyday I worked last week.

Fed the cats Cocoa Crispies instead of cat food. 

Maybe it was fed the kids cat food instead of Cocoa Crispies.  Not too clear on which.

Left 3 or 4 people on hold at work, completely forgotten.  Until they called back angry on line 2.

Had a daydream about the new Zombie Apocolypse birthday party option at Chuck E. Cheese.  ???

I'm sure there are a few more goodies I could add, but these are the highlights.  Perhaps it's time I broke down and asked the Doc for that Ambien prescription.  For the kids' sakes.  Or the cats.  Can't remember which. 

Props where props are due...

I met this amazing lady last fall while working at the Renaissance Festival who is truly an inspiration to me.  She has a beautiful family, a charming personality, and she uses everyday stuff to create something wonderful for the whole world to enjoy.  When I grow up, I want to be just like her...except have more kids and make different stuff...but otherwise just like her.  Without the red hair, of course.  Oh, and with a different husband....or several....and live on my baby-daddy farm (another story for later). 

Well, anyway, she rocks, and she is creative, and I love her stuff.  I mean it.  You can love it, too.  Just check it out!!

freckletree

Here are a couple of her selections....some of my favoritests!

Every little one needs a Hoot Hat!  I know of  4 kids in particular that have been begging for them incessantly since November.  Now, off to facebook to like her Freckletree facebook fanpage and then etsy to buy her beautiful work! 

Denial

I'm Awesome.

I can do anything.  I have had four children.  I have played roller derby.  I have written essays and term papers with favorable results.  I can manage a team.  I can knit and sew.  I can play the flute. 

I keep reminding myself of all these things as I struggle to accomplish one of the most basic human tasks.

Walking.

I can't walk. 

Well, ok...I can walk, but it's damn hard.  It hurts, too.

Like a cajillion (yes, that's my made up word...back off) other people in the world, I had an ACL replacement on Wednesday.  The Anterior Cruciate Ligament is a tricky little bugger that criss-crosses on the inside of your knee, giving it stability and strength.  It's one of the most common knee injuries, because for some really dumb reason it just decides one day, no matter how long you've been playing sports or training or not doing any of those things, it's going to rip in two.  Then, if you're lucky, your knee will be weak, but you'll retain some kind of functionality.  If you're unlucky, like I am, you'll feel like you dislocate your knee every few steps, and you'll need surgery.

So, the feeling that your knee is dislocating when you walk and the ensuing pain and agony and limping apparently aren't enough for some to deem this as a necessary surgery.  Luckily, the people at my insurance company do, but I've had many people ask me why I chose to have this surgery, or why don't I put it off until later, or why this or why that.  Well, why don't you tear your ACL and then ask me that question?  Oh, you did?  Well, good for you...and go fuck yourself, too...this is MY life.  I obviously felt like this was a necessary surgery, and I'm willing to accept the pain and dedication that my rehabilitation will take.  Mind you, none of that means I'm going to sit and silently accept the pain like a champ and pretend like nothing happened.

THIS SHIT HURTS!!!

I'M A BIG BABY AND I NEED MY MOMMY!

I will also knee in the balls the next asshole that says I brought this on myself!  (titty twisters, slap upside the head: pick your pain) 

I'm only a few days post-op and I'm already back at work, driving, trying to walk on it a little.  I'm trying to show everyone that i'm tough and strong and I can do anything, but sometimes I just want to cry and whine. Is it too much to expect a little bit of sympathy?  From most people, no...but there are quite a few tough customers out there. 

I'm just wondering, what would the reaction have been if I'd had a boob job?