Come At Me Bro

Once upon a time I was a good blogger. I blogged every couple of weeks and it was filled with witty and hilarious life happenings. And somewhere along the way, I lost my wittiness. Just kidding. I am witty as fuck. I just have shit to do. People to see. And places to go before 2am because everything in this town closes by then. So...point being...the blog has suffered a smidge.

Since most of you goobers are on my facebook or twitter, you know I just did the Tough Mudder in Dallas last weekend. Everyone keeps asking all the details and how it was...soo here ya go. Because I am too lazy to individually text/email/private message all yall's asses.

First off...we had to wake up at 6am to get ready and drive the hour and a half to the location. If you know me at all, you know I am not a morning person in the least. I can't even tell you the last time I had to wake up before 7am. And you know I sure did put on a full face of make up before we went. In all honesty, it takes me 5-7 minutes to do my make up, so that wasn't even a big deal. Anyways, Bowen and my Mom and lil brother, Chance, all drove to BFE so I could do a race/obstacle course that I was sure was going to kill me. Like literally...I thought about writing a farewell note. 12 miles and 26 obstacles = death sentence. Anyways..I was nervous as hell. I peed like 5 times between 830 am and 10am. No joke. (I was told to drink a gallon of water a day...I suck at that...but that morning I did drink an energy drink and a bottle of water...so I was on my way to a gallon)

When it came time to go to the 10am group I met a 65 yr old dude and his daughter (she was in her 40s) who were doing the run together. And an ex-Marine whose team all backed out. And I suddenly felt better. Not sure why because all three of those people were in better shape than I am, but whatever. The point is, I met people who were in the same wave as me, and I felt a little less scared.
So to get the the start line you have to climb a wall. I was smart and went to the shorter one and climbed up the wall that had little steps on it, like a rock climbing wall. No point in wasting my energy on climbing a rope before I even got INSIDE the track.

I run on pavement...so this up and downhill and weird terrain shit was quite a challenge. And there was a lot of that. Our first obstacle was crawling through a mud pit with barbed wire overhead. Dominated that shit. (insert obscene gesture of your choice here) Lots of just running through mud, obviously because it is the tough mudder. The trick to those mud pits, I learned quickly, is high knees...and fast ones. Don't let your foot get stuck in that shit. Then there were these huge mounds of mud that you had to crawl over and then you fall into more mud before climbing the other one. Thank you Dallas SWAT team for helping me up and over all 5 of those bad boys. The cliffhanger was actually kind of scary...its just basically doing a high dive into cold, muddy water. Your shoes and clothes weigh a lot and it makes swimming hard as hell..and also...don't swallow the water..accidentally. There was lots of wading through ponds. Apparently some guy caught a fish in one of the ponds and carried it across the finish line with him. Needless to say, it smelled like dirty cat litter, which means so did every contestant. The arctic enema...obviously you can tell by the name that its not fun. Its just a HUGE ice bath. That you have to jump in, swim under a board, and then swim to the other side of those thing. I don't like to be cold...so I got up the obstacle and was standing there staring at this huge ice bath and saying, "No thanks. I'll bypass. Fuck this." But the guy next to me talked me into it. And the lifeguard too. He promised he would get me out if he needed to. And he needed to. Homeboy next to me counted to three and we jumped. And the ice water takes your breath away. Not in the fun I-Just-Got-Kissed-By-A-Tattooed-Dirty-White-Boy kinda way...but in the Holy-Shit-I-Am-Dying kind of way. So I freaked out. And the nice lifeguard lifted me out of the water. And then I had a few tears roll down my cheek because I was scared shitless and also because I felt like a huge vagina. But all of the other people waiting to do it were SUPER supportive and nice and gave me high fives and dap.

So anyways, there were a shit ton of obstacles. And lots more water. And 12 miles of it. I won't bore you with the fact that I walked the entire last 9 miles. And also that my knee got totally jacked up after the boa constrictor obstacle and so I limped my last half mile and also skipped the last two obstacle.
It was by far, the most challenging thing I have ever done. And it was SO fucking awesome being able to see people work together as a team and be so supportive of one another. Also, I really enjoyed the group of 6 guys who I always ended up with at every obstacle who made fun of one member for hitting on every single female around and also discussed porn stars. (We had some good convos, me and those boys) Tough Mudder supports Wounded Warriors and there were wounded warriors who participated as well. It legit brought a tear to my eye. I can't wait to start training (LEGIT training) for the next one and hopefully cut that 5 hours into 3. Either way, I am proud of myself for doing it. I am proud that I didn't quit. And yea...go me!! (cheerleader toe touch)

I also started a new job on Monday. I hate being the new kid. And also, I hate not being able to threaten fighters with a stapler to the face or a throat punch. I am working on this whole, covering my art thing. I didn't ever have to worry about my tattoos showing before. And I have to tell you, my style isn't really the covering up my breasticles type of style. I mean, my boobs may be little, but that Victoria's Secret bombshell bra makes them fierce. (It also can be used as a pillow..for future reference) Anyways, being the new kid sucks dick for skittles, but it is a receptionist position, not rocket science, so that helps. (math and science were never my strong suits) Everyone has been super nice which makes it even better. AND...I'm getting a paycheck which is the most important thing. Ya know, Mama needs new shoes.

So that is the latest and greatest news. Bowen is doing well in school, except for throwing a pencil at his teacher today. I'd be mad, but she is not my favorite person. At all. DON'T get me wrong, he got in trouble, but I also laughed a little.

I'll work on blogging more. Maybe when I come home from the bar with my Jack in the Crack or Whataburger after leaving the bar on a Saturday night. THOSE would be some entertaining blogs. We should test that some day. Haha Kisses and hugs and whatnot.

Free Your Mind...Supposedly The Rest Will Follow

I have taken a little sabbatical from the blog, because my life has been a little depressing. No one wants to read that shit. If you want to be depressed, just turn on the news. I don't want to be Debbie Downer, so I don't write when I am not able to turn it into Suzy Sunshine. Just fucking kidding. Have I ever been Suzy Sunshine?

Anyways, let me sum up the last few months....

In July we found out my Dad's cancer was back. In August I moved back to Midland to be with my family. And now, in September, here we are.

I never thought I'd see the day that I would be living back in Midland, Texas. Neva eva. But here I am and it isn't nearly as awful as I thought it would be. I love being able to have help with Bowen and being around my family. So, yea things could be worse. And, I am actually happy. GASP. I know.

Anyways, I decided to blog today because of something my little, sweet angel (who also poses as an evil monster) said last night.

We were talking about medical insurance before and after my Dad dies due to the new Obamacare thing. (I don't care what you're opinion on that whole thing is...I don't want to debate it. If you like it, great, if you don't, join the club) Anyways, Bowen was devouring his dinner so I didn't think that he was listening and then all of a sudden we hear....

"Mom, when your dad dies, he dies. That's it. Game over."

And we all looked at each other and laughed. Because he is right. It is a little refreshing to hear someone just be straight forward and real. No sugar coating.

Anyways, my Dad posted about it on his facebook. And then...all hell broke loose. (If you believe in hell. And apparently if you don't, that is bad. I learned that on said post)

Here is the deal... I am really open minded. I don't care if you are gay/straight/Christian/Atheist/A Cowboys fan/so on and so forth... If you don't shove your beliefs down my throat, we will be just fine. We are all different, no two people had the same life experiences or same parents (thank the fuck) so we all have different perspectives on life. And we can all learn a little something from someone else. It is really a beautiful thing.

I raise (or am trying to raise) my kiddo to see that. Just because you feel differently about something than someone else, does not make you right or them wrong. It just makes you different. And, holy fucking shit, that is totally ok. ((Obviously there are exceptions to this, but let's not make this more difficult than it has to be))

Anyways, someone told my Dad he needed to teach my son about Jesus. My Dad replied that it will be his decision to make when he is older. That was not good enough for this person so she mentioned again how my little one needs to start learning now. I wasn't mad, I was just like, whoa broad, calm your tits and then replied and let her know that, as his mother, I am trying to teach him about all religions and beliefs and he can make the decision when he is old enough. She told me that was sad. So I just left it at that. It is sad that she can say such things to someone she knows literally nothing about.

I kind of want to send her a link to that En Vogue song, Free Your Mind, because she literally needs to free her mind. Lighten up, lady, and open the mind. It is really nice out here in the land of the free and non-judgemental. And, if I ever met her in real life, I would have a hard time not poking her in the eye or something like that. It really annoys me when I give everyone the benefit of the doubt, ajm open to people's thoughts and beliefs, don't judge people (or try my best not to), and then have people like THAT imply that I am doing wrong with raising my child. Bitch, I will cut you.

Anyways, moral of the story...before I overthink it and I get violent...remember it is ok for people to believe in things that you don't. Or have a different opinion. Also, open your mind and learn something from someone else's story. Also...when you die..you are done..that is it...game over. All of that. Keep that in mind during this lovely day.

Happy Burfday Bowen Holmes

Tomorrow (June 14th) at 10:12am central time, my little monster of a child will turn 6 years old. It makes me feel old. And I can't believe it has been 6 years already. AND pats on the fucking back to me for not only keeping him alive, but for raising such a smart and polite little dude. I know some people had (Ok have) their doubts, but you've gotta give credit where credit is due. So fucking pass it out!!

Bowen is a pretty awesome kid. He is smart, polite, cute, and thoughtful.
I could go on and on and on about how amazing my kid is, but that will make people jealous and I am not in the heart breaking mood at the moment, so I'll spare them. At least for today.

I have seen all these crafty moms doing these little things pictures of their kid on their birthday and next to the kid is a chalkboard of the kid's favorite things. I don't have a chalkboard, nor the handwriting to do such a thing. So I am just gonna make a little list.

Bowen's Favorite Things

Cartoon: OLD SCHOOL Mickey Mouse...when he was MR Mouse.
((Funny story, we were watching Mr Mouse the other night and he asked why it wasn't called Mickey Mouse. So I said well this is an old cartoon and it was Mr Mouse before Mickey. So very casually my kid says, "Oh because Mr Mouse got ate by a cat?" Me: "umm no" Bowen: "Oh he just died because he is old?" Me: "What? No. What is with the dying?" Bowen: "Everyone croaks some day, Mom." ))

Food: Chips and queso (duh)

Drink: Jack Daniels
Kidding..chocolate milk is what he really likes.

Color: Orange

When he grows up he wants to be: An artist and/or construction worker
((Nine times out of ten he tells me he wants to be an artist and he will have paintings in a studio and I can go look at them, but I can't have one. But that ONE time, he says he wants to be a construction worker. I dunno what that is all about...but whatever))

Song: Song 2 by Blur
((I officially hate this fucking song now...WHOOOHOOOOO))

Movie: Despicable Me and Nightmare Before Christmas

Wants: A puppy

Does NOT want: a brother or sister

Loves: video games, drawing, reading Captain Underpants books, and playing the game Trouble.



Ok that is all I can think of...I dunno what else we are supposed to say. I could probably find it on Pinterest, but then it makes me feel bad because I am not a scrapbooking, memory box keeping type of Mom. The only thing I've got going for me is that now everything we do I can put on the internet, so I have memories FOREVER. And the entire world can share them too!!

Anyways, seems just like yesterday that my oldest sister was trying to feed my macaroni and cheese and trying to use the hospital computers while my mom held my hands so I could get an epidural. And 26 hours later that little shit came into the world all grey and dead-like. Now look at him... 52 inches and 55 pounds of blue-eyed, blond-haired craziness. Bowen and I have been through a lot and even though some days he makes me cry/yell in the cereal aisle at the grocery store, I cannot imagine not having him around. He is my everything.

Now....I have to go to sleep because I have to workout so I can take him out for breakfast before summer camp....and so I can eat his popcorn and candy at the movies tomorrow night. What?? I ruined my body for him..I deserve some treats too!!

My House Of Horrors - A Blog About The Weekend

Ya wanna know what is super awesome about being a single mom and being sick? Absolutely nothing. 

I somehow got the flu this weekend. I am laying in bed, waiting for the theraflu I just downed to send me into a coma so I can hopefully sleep for 8+ uninterrupted hours. While I should be switching the throw up smelling laundry over, vacuuming the floor that looks like my son crushed up an entire box of saltine crackers on it, loading 4 days worth of dishes into the dishwasher, or emptying one of four trash cans filled with tissues, water bottles, and empty medicine tabs, I am blogging about it. Don't judge. I can blog while laying down in my amazing tempurpedic bed. All that other shit requires a lot of effort and strength, which I don't have.

Being sick sucks for anyone. Even if you have a significant other, it is never fun and it always seems like the housework gets behind and life starts to get a little chaotic. However, there is someone else to feed and tend to your children if you have a significant other. Or they bring you a can of chicken noodle soup. Or a cup of ginger ale. Or fucking anything for that matter.

Let me explain what my house of horrors turns into when I get sick.

So Saturday started out perfect. I had my favorite breakfast of cold pizza and xyience and went to the pool with my kiddo and bestie. PERFECT. But around 5pm my throat started to hurt and my ears were aching and I had a headache. So I took a small nap. And by took a small nap I mean, Bowen was playing Super Mario on the Wii and I came to my room and passed out like I had been day drinking and popping mollys at Rehab. (Only my Vegas people will truly appreciate that) I woke up at 8pm to my kid poking me with a sticky finger, telling me he was hungry, while he carried around a half empty box of Captain Crunch. 

So I got up and realized I felt like complete and total shit. I walked into the living room to see that, while playing Mario, my wonderful child had left cookie and chip crumbs all over hell's half acre. I mean my living room. And that every single blanket and pillow in the house was thrown about and empty water bottles and juice boxes littered the place like an entire kindergarten class had a throwback for the last 3 hours. I made my little brat pick up the trash and blankets and took him to get some food. He got a happy meal. I got some sprite. We were good to go. I took a handful of allergy/cold medicine and he and I happily passed out on the couch while watching some horrible kid's movie on netflix.

Sunday morning rolls around and I wake up to find that my throat feels like I have swallowed a million knives. My head is pounding, my ears are going to explode. It is obvious, death is right around the corner. And on top of all of this, we haven't had AC since Friday night, so it is hot as balls. Not only was I dying, but Hell had come to Earth apparently. 

Sunday I spent the entire day downing theraflu and sleeping on the couch while Bowen ate popcorn and chips and queso and watched movies and played video games. No worries, ya'll. I was snoozing on the couch, so I could hear everything going on. Basically he was having the best weekend ever. While I was sure I had caught the ebola virus and the grimm reaper was standing in the corner staring at me. This went on, literally all day, until about 7pm. 

At 7pm I got my feverish and achy body up, put the kid in the tub and started a load of laundry, unloaded the clean dishes, and then put him to bed. Which was phenomenal because I could finally go to bed for real, for real. So I took some more theraflu and then passed back out. Only to wake up at 3am throwing up. For 5 hours straight. I have to give Bowen props because at one point he came into the bathroom to check on me. Picture the scene out of the exorcism...that was what was going on...except I wasn't screaming obscenities about Jesus bangin me out. 

Here is our mid-puke convo:

Me: throwing up violently

Bowen: Mommy, are you ok?

Me: throwing up violently....  Yea baby, I am just sick, it's ok go to bed.

Bowen: Umm...do you need some medicine?

Me: throws up some more.... No, I already took some. Really it is ok. Go to sleep.

Bowen: I think you peed on yourself while you barfed. 

Me: Yep. I probably did. Give me that towel...then go to bed.

He hands me the towel and goes to bed. And let me tell you. Throwing up is not an attractive look for anyone. But especially not last night. I mean it was like the worst barfing experience ever. And I did pee on myself. Because when you are 4'10 and you give birth to a 10 pound baby, things like your bladder, never come back the same. And that will always be noticed when you puke so hard a blood vessel in your eye explodes. Sexy, right? 

Anyways, I went to the Dr today. She said, "That sucks, you have the flu, here is some Zofran, drink fluids and sleep." It was one of those moments where you can't decide whether to punch the doctor in the throat or just cry. I just cried. And then came home, took some medicine and slept all day. 

I don't feel great, but compared to earlier when I felt like someone had beaten my entire body with 49 softball bats, I feel pretty fucking fantastic. Or maybe the meds have kicked in. Probably the meds. 

My house is a fucking disaster. The laundry is out of control. I am 100% sure if we vacuumed the living room and poured all of it's contents into a bowl, we would have enough bread crumbs to make stuffing for an entire state. I have no earthly idea what is in my kid's backpack. But I did make sure he got a meal for dinner, like a legit meal. And he is bathed and in bed. I also showered. So that is a plus. And today, that is enough. Tomorrow I will go to work, then come home and clean up this place, but tonight...I am just glad I can sleep. And am praying I don't have to bow down to the porcelain God again. I have had a total of four crackers and half a bowl of chicken noodle soup, so I am thinking I'll be safe, but you just never know. 

Either way...fuck the flu. Who gets the flu in June?! The only good thing that has come out of this is the fact that if I had the energy to put on a bikini, I bet I'd look phenomenal. See people, silver lining. That is what it is all about. 

Now please excuse me, I am hoping this Nyquil/Theraflu combo will bring on some trippy, yet amazing dreams. Like doing drugs without doing drugs, ya know?? Yolo and shit.

Boys and Their...Toys

I'd say it is pretty obvious that my house is always a little crazy. And it is only Bowen and I. Every day is an adventure and you never really know what to expect. It doesn't only pertain to the household...it usually goes beyond the home and to wherever we may happen to be.

We have had a few hilarious/awkward/wtf moments lately...

Obviously if you have a little boy you know that morning wood starts at a very young age. And, if you've ever been in a relationship, it never ends. Anyways, morning wood has caused many awkward mornings for Bowen and I.

The other morning Bowen woke up, I followed him to the bathroom so I could get his toothbrush ready while he peed. I'm minding my own business and I hear giggling and turn to see Bowen peeing EVERYWHERE. This was our conversation...

Me: Bowen!!! What in the.... STOP PEEING EVERYWHERE!!!
Bo: MOM it won't point down. :::Giggling:::
Me: Push it down! PUSH IT DOWN!!!
Bo: It's sticking UP! It won't go down!!
Me: Umm...fuck...well...fuck...lean forward! LEAN FORWARD!!!!

Needless to say in the 12 seconds this conversation took, he had emptied his entire bladder...all over the bathroom.

A few days later we had another penis problem.

Bowen has a little girlfriend in his after school program. She is the daughter of one of the teachers and the two are like a little married couple. It's all very love/hate.

Well Bowen was leaving so the little girl decided to give Bowen a hug. Bowen was NOT having it. Finally they had a long hug...a LONG hug...and we were ready to go. Except Bowen was doing the pee-pee dance. So, like any good mother, I asked if he needed to pee.

Me: Bowen, do you have to pee?
Bo: No.
Me: Well you're standing funny.
Bo: I'm good.
Me: Are you sure? Because you're acting like you need to pee.
Bo: I said no...
Me: Ok well it's a pretty long drive home, so if you need to go...
Bo: MOM I do NOT have to pee!!! My penis is sticking up!!!

I don't blush easily. Nor do I get embarrassed easily. I was embarrassed. I was blushing. LUCKILY the daughter's mom was not offended and laughed about it. Thank the fuck. Needless to say...the next time he says he does not have to pee, I'm gonna believe him.

And then there is always the bathroom in public issue.

I'm a single mom. Have been basically since he was born. So basically the poor guy has to pee in the girl's bathroom wherever we go.

The other day we were at the Dr's office and we had to pee. The stalls were ridiculously small so I stood outside his stall while he went pee.

I'm checking my Twitter, listening to the bitching wives in the two stalls next to us, almost totally minding my own business.

Then I hear...

Bo: Oooh yeaaaaa...peeing with my penis.
Me: Bowen!! Shut up.
Bo: MOM I can spell things in the water. With my penis.
Me: Ok cool. Finish peeing.
Bo: Don't be mad because you can't write in the water with your penis.
Me: I'm not Bowen! Shut up. Pee. Let's go.
Bo: Fine. I am almost done. Peeing. With my penis.

What can I say? He is proud to be male. Aren't they all, though??

Now Accepting Applications

I hate dating. And since I am, yet again (or still??), single I feel like I should just vent (for fellow single parents) and inform the masses (those wanting to date aforementioned single parents) about dating and the single parent.

Everyone talks about how much dating sucks. I agree...to an extent it does. But, rest assured, dating and being a single parent sucks waaaaaay harder. Let me explain...

When dating and raising a child, the dates automatically have added pressure. You are spending time away from your child, paying for a sitter, more than likely receiving guilt trip of the year, and there is actually a third party involved...so it is like a totally un-fun threesome, whether the third party is present or not. I don't know about other single parents, but for me, I am not about to waste my time on someone who isn't going to work well with my child, so it is less fun-date, more interview. Whether that is how it is meant to be or not. I can go into a date thinking "Just have fun", but since I am a decent parent, my child is obviously being thought of.

If you don't like kids, don't date me. I have one with me 24/7...no fucking weekend or summer or spring break or Christmas breaks...he is ALWAYS with me. If you don't want to date someone with a kid, cool, let's get that shit out of the way immediately. Why waste your time? And we certainly are not wasting my fucking time. You aren't the first, and you definitely will not be the last, man-child who cannot handle dating someone with a kid. Now run along and find a wanna-be Barbie who wants to go to the club 5 nights a week.

If you have the balls to take me on a date while knowing I have a child, please understand that the kid will always come first. Always. If you are that insecure that you can't handle a 5 year old being more important than you, we were never meant to be.

Also, important to remember, that I (or any other single parent) am not available at the drop of a hat. We have to PLAN. Scary, I know. See, when you have a small child who cannot take care of themselves, you must make sure that said child is being properly looked after when you are not around. Needless to say, shooting me a text at 3:30 asking me to hang out at 7 is fucking annoying AND probably won't happen. Babysitters are not always available...they don't hand out a roster of 700 qualified girls looking for a part time gig when you leave the hospital. (Would be nice though) And not only that, MOST single parents are a little strapped for cash and babysitters are at least 10 bucks an hour. ((Helpful Hint: Earn bonus points by paying for said sitter once in a while))

Ok...honestly...it has been SO fucking long since I've "dated" that I don't know what else to write about. Being a single parent is hard. Dating and being a single parent is harder. And if you plan on dating a single parent, just know it will be challenging. So if you have big enough balls to step up to the plate, fucking treat her/him right. They don't have time for your shenanigans.

The good thing about dating a single mom (from what I am told) is that they are reliable. They can take care of themselves AND another living being. I'm also told we are more mellow. Probably because any night away from cartoons and a meal not consisting of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets is a fucking vacation. And, the obvious, we put out. ((Not necessarily on the first...or even third date...but at least you know that we know how to handle biz in the bed))

Anyways, here is my vent about dating a single parent. I have decided that I am going to be a single mom for the rest of my life and I need to start buying animals in bulk. I am allergic to cats so being a cat lady is out and too cliche for me. Take my advice...heed my warnings... And also, send applications my way if you are looking! ;-) Kidding.

Post Workout Epiphany

I believe that we all should strive to learn and grow from every experience. And with the bad, there usually comes good. Don't get me wrong, I have had my fair shares of pity parties and more than one night (or 30 nights...all in a row) where I cried myself to sleep and seriously thought this was the end of my life. However, I woke up the next day and realized that life does go on. Due to this, I think that what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. And also, if Britney Spears can make it through 2007, I can surely make it through anything I've gone through. (And look a fuck ton better while doing it)

I am at this weird crossroads, I think. (Keep in mind that this could be the ridiculous workout I just had and the overload of endorphins streaming through my body) I have been a single Mom for most of Bowen's life. I've been married, divorced, lived with someone, been single, been hurt, been broke as a joke, been broker than that joke(r), been happy, been sad, been mad, and everything in between. And I have lately decided, that I just don't have time for bullshit.

My main focus is my son. (Obvi) He is my whole entire world and he will always be my main priority. I have pretty high standards of what I need to do as a parent to help mold him into a decent human being and I don't take it lightly. I have failed in some areas, done well in others, but in all areas, I am still trying to improve and learn to be a better mom for him. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing 85% of the time (if only they came with a manual), but I do know, that if he and I can figure out how to work together, we will both make it out just fine. (if not, there is always therapy...for him..I'm already in it) The kid drives me INSANE. And sometimes I want to lock him in a closet and run away. (I would never, ever do that in real life) But at the end of the day, I love him more than anyone or anything in the world. And I hope some day he sees that.

Due to my number one priority, Bowen, I have a second priority, called work. Luckily, I am super blessed and have an awesome second priority. I love, love, love, love, love, loooooooooooove my job. Some days I want to pull out my hair by 9:30am, but every day, I appreciate and remember just how much I love what I do. I never thought I'd be in Vegas for more than 6 months and now, I can't imagine leaving. I work for an amazing company. I get to help out and work with amazing guys and their camps and families. And I have the most supportive, loving, amazing team. Seriously, my department really has become a second family. I would never have made it through the last year without them. I've been working since I was 16 and I plan on always working (Miss Independent FO REAL) (well until retirement at least) so the fact that I get to go do something I truly love is absolutely wonderful and true blessing.

As most everyone in my life knows, my Dad has been really sick this year. Cancer is a mother fucker and it has wreaked some havoc on my poor pops. My Dad is my hero and knowing he is fighting this battle has been really hard. I would take his place in a heartbeat. All that being said, it really puts things into perspective. We are never promised tomorrow and so many people take what they have for granted. Even I have. Needless to say, it really has changed my outlook on things. While people bitch because they have a cold or are sad or think their life is miserable because of a break up, I want to throw a straw at them and tell them to suck it the fuck up. I am all fine for everyone having a pity party. Every single person deserves one at some point or another. Trust me, I've had more than my share. I just didn't have anything, like watching my Dad go through three surgeries and die in one, to really show me what is important and what isn't. And after I read that, I realize I sound like a bitch, and I will probably lose the few friends that I have. NOT my intention, just trying to explain where my head is at right now.

To sum up this ridiculous, venting session of a blog....I am over it. You can only take so much BS in one life time and then you have to decide whether to move onward and upward, or stay stuck. I am moving onward. And also upward. I have had a lot of negative, bad things happen in my life. And for a hot minute (especially last year) I got sucked into this blackhole of shit. I won't put myself in that position again. I am going to continue to focus on my son and my job, and keep my friends and family, whom I love dearly, close. I read somewhere that life will keep giving you the same test, over and over again, until you pass it....well I think I am ready to pass this test and move forward. The good thing is...tomorrow is a new day...and I may come to my senses by then. But for tonight...I'm done with the bullshit... No worries, you will never get Positive Paulie who never cusses or doesn't threaten violence. That'd be like asking me to give up my high heels. That shit won't ever happen. ;-)

Mom Guilt Monster

I truly believe that part of being a mom is mom guilt. It begins while pregnant. You're going through 40 weeks of hell....sick, headaches, back aches, cravings, mood swings, crying, ruining your once-size-three-stretch-mark-free-perky-boobed body, and gaining the weight of a 10 yr old child and you feel like you just can't do enough. Am I getting enough folic acid? Will this pepsi make the baby deformed? Did I drink the day the baby was conceived? I mean...it is never ending. And once you pop that thing out of your once perfect vagina, it gets even worse. (Ladies, don't forget your kegels) My son is five years old and has really been making the mom guilt hit an all time high. This weekend may be the peak.

My sister, brother in law, and two year old niece came in on Wednesday. Bowen is not much into sharing anything. Whether it be a toy, his games, his room, or me, that shit never really goes over well. Needless to say he was NOT happy when Alexandra wanted to do anything that involved him. Or anything that meant her being in the general vicinity of where he was. Basically I feel like the kid needs to quit being such a whiner and suck it the fuck up. Which means I look mean and he also cries and lot and hates me. It is fine. I can handle it.

But then yesterday we were driving in the car and Bowen told me that he felt like I was not noticing him. That I took pictures with Alexandra and not him. And that I don't want to talk about Super Mario Brothers, I want to tell Alexandra how pretty her picture is. ((For the record we took TWO in three days for fucks sake...not like I went on a fucking photo taking spree and created a new instagram account just for Alexandra and I)) And he added the quivery voice and alligator tears to this confession. I, of course, felt like a big sack of shit for this. I apologized and explained that Alexandra was still a baby and that he is a big boy, so he has to share and teach her how to be a big girl. I reminded him how much I loved him and how much he means to me. Showed him that he is the background on my phone.  Went on this big thing about how he is the best thing that ever happened to me....I mean..I don't know what to do.

Anyways so we go through yesterday with this big thing about sucking as a parent weighing on my shoulders. So today he wants to point out all of the shit I don't do. This morning I said, "I need to wash my sheets." Bowen decides to point out that I wash my sheets more than his. (The kid sleeps in my bed more than his own) And that he didn't get to go to the last two school birthdays he was invited to. And that he was is always one of the last kids to get picked up from the YMCA, among many other things. Did I mention I was sleepy still? And that he did this like rapid fire? So my response was, "Bowen..I don't have any help with you. What do you want from me?" And he says, "Help with what?" So I said, "You know how Aunt Holly has Uncle Ben to help with Alexandra...well Mommy doesn't have that. I do all this SHIT on my own, so guess what, I am doing the best that I can!!"

I KNOW that he doesn't understand. I know that. But for the love of all that is holy, he could cut me just a smidgen of slack. Like a tiny, eeeeensy weensy piece. Yes..I know...wishful thinking.

Either way, that whole conversation made me feel bad. And now I am having this inner battle because I REALLY, REEEEALLY need to get a second job. But what am I going to do about Bowen? I am already away from him so much, I hate the thought of leaving him more, even if it is just at night time. But I also hate not being able to pay bills or take him to do whatever he wants whenever he wants. See the problem, yall??

Anyways...the mom guilt is eating me alive tonight. I thought about busting out the bottle of Jameson, but I worked out really hard and don't want the extra calories. I can't go back to my over weight and riddled with mom guilt look. It was not a good look for me. Instead, I am going to snuggle up next to this kid who looks so peaceful and sweet and pretend none of it ever happened. Denial. It is pretty and smells nice here. ;-)