Rambling On

You guys...it has been a long time since I have blogged. I am bad at this apparently. Anyways, I have a new goal. And that is...with summer fast approaching (lawd help me)...I am going to try my hardest to blog on the daily. That being said...please send me your ideas and topics of interest. Because I am really (obviously) not that interesting.

Moving right along...

Have you ever had one of those days where your kids are just evil spawns? Like they don't ever shut up. And they have all this energy. And they cry and whine and annoy you? All day long. Every single minute. Every single, slow second. So the day never ends. Because that was my entire day today. And I have a clogged duct in my boob. Which makes me even crankier. Anyways, I was in close relation to Oscar the Grouch today. ((This blog is brought to you by the letter F and U)) Let's face it. Kids can be obnoxious as fuck. YOUR kid(s) can be obnoxious as fuck. And if you're denying it...you're not my friend. (maybe you are...whatever)

But...my babies are now sleeping. And Grey's Anatomy is on. And I just ate a really great salad and piece of pecan pie. So all is right with the world. Except for my boob. That boob is really pissing me the fuck off.

Anyways, enough rambling...this is my first summer as a stay at home mom. I'm not going to lie. I am slightly terrified. I love my kids. I love my kids more than life itself. BUT I don't know how to do it. What are we going to do all day? And what if Bowen acts like he did today...but like..every day....for the whole summer? How will I survive? How will HE survive?

Here is the deal. I am getting used to this stay at home mommy thing. I truly cannot imagine having to put little Endie in daycare or with a babysitter. (I have read WAY too many scary articles lately) I am loving (and also hating slightly) the breastfeeding thing. As much as I try to pump, I just am not getting enough to feed a baby for an entire day. So I have the baby all day mommying down, but not the eight year old all day mommying. So again...suggestions welcomed. (We are not doing day camp though...so please don't suggest that)

This is what I have realized about this whole motherhood shindig. It is a learning experience every day. It is also a challenge every day. Every. Single. Day. Some days your babies are little magnificent angels. Some days they are awful little energy syphoning midgets. But every day, we can learn something new. Even if it is just that you learned (remembered) tomorrow is a new day.

Also...remember to snuggle and smooch those little assholes. I mean, it may be after they have been peacefully sleeping for a few hours and you've had a glass of wine and hot shower. But go smooch them. Tell them you love them. And remember we don't get this day back.

And just as important is remembering that you are only human. You get to have a bad day. A day when you literally cannot handle another meltdown or the question, "Why?" being asked one more time. You are human. And not every day is going to perfect. Just let them know that you love them. You are sorry for not having patience or whatever it is you did wrong. And remember...tomorrow...is a new day.

That being said...I have to go put a hot, damp diaper (clean) on my boob and massage it. And enjoy some Grey's before I get outvoted on it. And maybe eat another piece of pie. Because this day has kicked my big, fat ass.

Poop Filled Life Lessons

I am sitting here on the couch with my gorgeous three month old kicking me and my amazing seven year old making popcorn, when I hear from the kitchen, "I am the awesomest boy in the world! Me and Ender are the awesomest boys in the world!!" And I smile. Because they are. I have always wanted to be a mom, since I can remember. When I was a kid I wrote terrible little stories about being a mom of eight kids and driving a minivan. Obviously a lot has changed. I mean...a minivan...get the fuck outta here with that. But me wanting to be a mama has never once changed. (Maybe not eight kids though. My uterus just tried to crawl out of my body at the mention of that.) So with this grand plan for my whole entire life of being a mom, I wonder why I didn't pay MORE attention to my parents and other parents. Because, it was brought up today that children learn about being a parent, from their parents.

Bowen was talking to me about being a parent. Here is our little conversation.

Me: Bowen what do you think you have to do when you are a mom or dad?

B: Feed and water your kid. Give them love and care. LOTS of love and care.

Me: How do you know how to love and care for your kid?

B: I don't know, I will probably learn a little in school. But mostly I will learn from you. Yea. I will just learn how to love and care because I watch you. ALL. THE. TIME. I can't talk about this anymore. I have to poop. I'm about to explode from poop.


Wow...so once you get past the image of a child with explosive shit...what he said was really impacting. Our kids are watching us all the time. (Kids are jerks) And they learn from us. I mean, you truly cannot live by the, "Do as I say, not as I do" motto, it doesn't really work. Studies show that if you smoke, your kids are more likely to smoke. But even without studies, common sense and videos on YouTube show that if you cuss, your kid will probably cuss (sigh...I am fucked then) and if you do inappropriate things, your kids will probably follow suit.

I know there are a ton of things I can work on as a parent. And if you don't think that YOU have things to work on, you are up Denial's stream without a paddle. One of the things I said I would NEVER do as a parent is yell. My Dad was a yeller and I hated it. Lo and behold, I popped out a kid and soon found out, I followed in those exact footsteps. I can say that I have really been working on that a lot over the last few months and it has definitely come close to a stop. But there are days when I do yell. Mostly because you can only repeat yourself 963 times before you lose your shit. And also because I am human, which means I am not perfect. Some days I have no patience. Some days I cry in front of my kids. Some days I don't give them the attention they want. And some days I am completely selfish and their wants (whether it be to snuggle or talk about a video game) are put on the back burner. Fact of the matter is, every day is a day I can improve. And knowing is half of the battle. Or so they say. (They seem to be really big know it alls.)

There are a million other things I want to be known for as a parent. I want my kids to tell me that I was patient and kind and understanding and open minded and fun. I want my kids to see me as reliable and accountable and helpful. There are so many things I want to be as a parent and I HOPE that I am showing my kids that.

So...the moral of this story is...our kids are listening and watching and learning from us. And I heard it straight from a kid. Apparently reminders to "Be on your best behavior" should go both ways. Every day is a day we can change and improve and I just got the proverbial face slap to remind me of that. Now, I must go and deal with the child who doesn't speak, but actually does have explosive poop going on.

Stay At Home Mom Thoughts

Back in the day, I was a single, full-time working mom. I usually had two jobs to make ends meet. And I always seemed...or felt...like I had it together. Now, I am a stay at home mommy of two kids and I feel like I have nothing together. I mean, the laundry is never caught up. I almost always need to vacuum (ok in my defense, our carpet right now is dark blue, so everything shows up) and at least one, usually both, of the bathrooms need to be cleaned. Nowadays, I feel pretty secluded, unless I get out for a meeting for an hour a few times a week...so literally most of my conversations are one sided and about poop. Probably the hardest thing for me is not contributing financially. I feel like I have put a huge burden on my significant other and, as a partner, I want to carry my fair share of the load.  I have a lot of time to think about this stuff and I think about it every day. Like magic, today I ran across this article about some common stay at home mom complaints. I could relate to so many of the things in this article on so many levels. Needless to say, I am hoping I am not alone and I have a friend or two who gets it.

So I just spent 15 minutes typing up my mom complaints. They ranged from not feeling like I am doing something important or goal oriented anymore. I mean, cleaning a bathroom and doing the laundry doesn't quite give the same satisfaction as meeting a deadline and doing it to perfection. To having days where I am so over being needed ALL the time. Like if I am asked one more question or cried at one more time, I am going to cry. And the days where nothing is going right...the baby is super fussy, my boobs are aching, the oldest one is having meltdowns, and my significant other is stressed and I can't fix it, then to top it all off, the electricity goes out.

Then I deleted it all.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE that I am able to stay at home with my kiddos. I was never able to do that with Bowen. I went back to work when he was three months old and it was really hard. I felt like a bad mom. Not many moms, especially nowadays, are able to stay with their little ones. I am SO lucky to be able to do that. It takes away a lot of stress for me to be available in case Bowen gets sick or has an appointment. Plus, and most importantly, we don't have to worry about these psycho daycare workers hurting or mistreating one of our kiddos. (That seems to be in the news WAY too often now) And, with the crazy expense of daycare, it just doesn't make financial sense for me to work. I'd be working to pay for two kids to be in daycare. But most importantly, I am so glad I can spend this extra time with my kids. I love snuggling with the baby in the mornings. I love that I have a drop off and pick up routine with Bowen. I love that I can hug and kiss my kids at any time during the day. I really have it made with this stay at home mom-dom.

But it seems to me, that if a mommy says, "Holy shit, being home with kids all day is challenging!" we get the third degree. "You have it made" and "You are so lucky" and "I NEVER got to stay home with my kids, I wish I had it so easy" among other things are the retorts we get. And that fucking blows. Sometimes, we just need to vent. Sometimes, we need a break from boogers and diapers and back talk. Sometimes, we need to know we can be more useful than the maid/laundry machine/personal chef. And it may seem trivial to those of you who are working...and maybe it is in the grand scheme of things...but this is what goes through my head. As in most things, a little support goes a long way.

When did it become such a bad thing to admit that parenting is a challenge? Or for someone to admit that motherhood, especially being a mom who is home with her kids all day every day, is hard? And to say that sometimes you need a break? And WHY do we need to justify our feelings!?!

I keep reading and hearing about this mom shaming stuff and apparently it is alive and well, because I feel it!! And honestly, most of it is self imposed. I worry that if I mention any of the daily feelings and stressors I will get rained down on and made to feel worse. Why do other moms feel they have the right to talk shit or shame someone for feeling the way they feel? THAT, my dear mommies, is not the business and that shit needs to stop right now.

ALL parents know that parenting is anything but easy. It is the most challenging (rewarding, yes, but still challenging) thing we have probably ever done. As the song says, "What the world needs now is love" and we DO. We need some support and some understanding. A pat on the back every now and then. Moms and Dads alike!! We would't want our little ones to be treated, judged, and downsized like I mentioned before, so why do we do it to ourselves? It is true, kids learn from your actions. So...let's keep that in mind ladies and gentleman, and make things just a smidgen easier on ourselves and a ton better for our kiddos. Just a little food for thought.

Now I have to go make some food for tummies.

Beauty and the Breast

                                            (Here is an example of a milk coma in full effect)

I want to touch base on a million things. I have like 34 started blogs, but because I am the mother of a newborn and a seven year old. And also a significant other. I have not finished a fucking thing since January 19th of this year. Apparently, this is now the story of my life. So. While I have my littlest asleep in a BED and not on me or someone else for the first time since he has been born, I am going to QUICKLY share a little info about boobs. My boobs, more specifically.

With Bowen I did not breastfeed. When I first got pregnant, that was my plan. However, my 20 year old brain took over and I couldn't get past the fact that for the last however many years, my boobs had been a sexual tool. Not a tool for babies. So I opted out of breastfeeding. I got a lot of shit from those Les Leches League ladies about it, too. So much shit, in fact, that during my hospital stay and on my 19th visit from one of them, I yelled, "If you want him breastfed so badly, you whip a boob out and feed him." Plus side to that...they never came back. Now that I am older and a little wiser I realize that if breastfeeding is sexual, then a bottle is a dildo. How is that for a little perspective?

THIS time around I decided I was definitely going to breastfeed. Somewhere along my pregnancy I turned into this weird granola mommy and decided to, not only have an unmedicated birth, but that breast was best.

Here I am, 5 weeks in, and still on that breastfeeding bandwagon. And I am pretty proud of myself. There have been numerous times that I have thought I couldn't do it. Let me tell you why. Because like most things pregnancy and childbirth and newborn related...no one tells you the REAL truth. All I have ever heard was all of the amazing things about breastfeeding. And, honey, it is not all rainbows and sunshine and unicorns.

I read a million articles on HOW to breastfeed your baby. All of the different positions and the C hold and all that good shit. It all seemed pretty easy. Until I got my baby and decided to try to breastfeed. My nipples, all amazing and wonderful for my man's mouth, would not get hard for my baby's. So in labor and delivery the nurse threw me a nipple shield and sent me on my booby feeding way. I soon found out that there is a WAY to use the nipple shield. And I wasn't doing it. I figured it out and am somewhat of a nipple shield pro now. Thank Jesus. But let me tell you...nipple shields are a whole battle of their own. They are $10 a piece. They are these small, clear things...so when you lose one...they are lost for like ever. I think I have purchased six of them in 5 weeks. I am down to 2. Apparently nipple shields are like socks...they just vanish into the cracks of the house, never to return.

When my little man was in the hospital with me he was having some latching issues. In fact after a whole day of fixing his latch and him fussing for hours, the awesome lactation consultant came in with a bottle of glycerine water. She dripped a couple drops of this nectar of the gods onto my nipple and BAM...I had a perfectly latched baby. No one told me that was a quick fix. I cannot imagine what those three days before my milk came in would have been like without the ol' sugar water trick. I don't want to know. I choose to just live in the early depths of hell...not the deep, dark ones where those days would surely lie.

Another thing no one prepared me for was just how often and how long a breastfed baby eats. I recall nursing all day. Literally ALL DAY about three weeks in and sitting on the couch crying because I was exhausted, my nipples hurt, my shoulders hurt, and I had not one had a minute to myself without this little miracle screaming because he wanted to nurse. Come to find out...this is normal. And breastfed babies tend to nurse more. And there is a thing called cluster feeding. Never heard of it before then. But I know ALL about cluster feeding now. Sure would have been nice to be able to PREPARE for the hours upon hours of nipple use that would go on. But no one tells you about that.

Have you ever heard of the term 'niplash'? I hadn't until recently. Niplash is when a baby decides not to take a break from nursing and suddenly and energetically jerks his head around to look up, down, and all around the room. (Thank you Pinterest for that amazing definition) THIS is a real thing. And breastfeeding mama's should be told that niplash is a breastfeeding war wound. I had heard of mastitis and cracked/bleeding nipples. None of that sounded good...at all. But niplash...is it's own form of torture. I never knew nipples could twist and turn and bend and move like they can. I could not PREPARE (important word in this blog...because I feel if you could prep for the horrors and inconveniences to come you can manage them better) for niplash. Soon to be breastfeeding moms, you have been warned. You're welcome.

To go with the constant niplash I am getting, my son is a little baby shark. I even refer to him as baby shark. When he is really hungry...like I didn't automatically have a boob in his mouth...he attacks the boob. He moves his head from side to side and ATTACKS the boob like a shark attacking it's prey. It is funny, a little painful, and I have never seen anything like it before. I don't know if this is just my child or other babies, but the baby shark approach is something new to me.

A small, much less tragic, inconvenience of boob poppin' is the clothing issues. I seriously wear the same 4 or 5 things because they are the only tops that make breastfeeding possible. I don't want to sit around with my t-shirt up over both my boobs exposing the tummy I have not yet lost. So that means I am limited to tank tops. It is February.  See the inconvenience? Thankfully I have some jackets and cardigans. However, I wouldn't mind wearing one of my numerous pre-pregnancy cute shirts...but that will just have to wait. For now, even my clothing is dictated by a little dictator. Thank God he is cute...because he sure isn't letting his mom get her cute on.

I don't think anyone can make you understand how time consuming breastfeeding is. I am reassured (repeatedly) that once the first three months are over, it becomes a breeze. More scheduled and you can actually lead a more normal life. Right now, I am literally boobs out all the time like some Amazonian woman in a National Geographic. (Luckily my boobs look pretty decent still and aren't dragging to the ground or have four inch long nipples.) All day long I start a task and then immediately get called away by the shrill screams of a hungry kid. Once the kid latches, it is impossible to go anywhere. I can plan for WEEKS to go to a meeting on a certain day, but if he gets hungry right before the store, then I am stuck. And he would choose to have an hour long booby binge on that exact day. I have adapted somewhat...meaning I can do almost anything one handed. You know you're a mom when you can poop while breastfeeding your child. I mean, when you gotta go, you gotta go. In fact, my sister who I call almost daily for something boob related said she is going to write a book about all of the things you can do with one hand. She breastfed my niece and is currently breastfeeding my nephew. She is totally a saving grace for me. I would be lost without her during these trying times. I guess you can say we are breast friends. (See what I did there?)

The last little thing I will touch on is the glares/glances/stares you get when breastfeeding. At home I don't cover up. My older son knows what breastfeeding is and we didn't want to make it weird. When you have a kid with autism you have to be serious and tell the truth about all things, whether it be boobs or where babies come from (Funny story about that.) So we opted not to hide the boob. He was really curious at first, now it doesn't phase him. And more importantly, we wanted him to know breastfeeding is natural. Moms were built to do this, that is why dads can't. So the first time we all went to the store as a family, the baby got hungry. Of course, because it was inconvenient as fuck, so why wouldn't he? So I walk down an empty aisle, whip out a poop, nipple shield on, and let the little man latch. I threw a blanket over my shoulder and we went on our way. Bowen asks, "Why are you covering the baby's head when you breastfeed?" (Breast is pronounced breeest....like high emphasis on the e's...for good measure. Makes me laugh.) Which led to us explaining that SOME people find it offensive when a mommy breastfeeds or they don't want their little kids seeing someone else's boob. Bowen doesn't understand this at all...because it is natural. One lady hears our conversation and says, "I'd totally support you if you didn't cover him up!" However, she is one of the few. I have to go to Bowen's school to pick him up and always end up having to feed Ender while I am waiting. I sit in my car and feed him uncovered. Let's face it, even with milk my boobs are not that big, so no one is getting a glance at some BIG ol' knockers as they walk by (plus my windows are super tinted). When I have to go get Bowen I put a cover over the baby and we go on our way. Well even with the cover I get a lot of sideways glances. As if you can see through the cover. It is ridiculous. I haven't had anyone actually SAY anything to me, just a lot of shitty looks. I think secretly I am hoping someone says a negative word about it so I can tell them to go fuck themselves. But nothing has happened yet.

Baby shark is starting to stir and I am sure his lips are smacking in waiting for his next meal. Anyone who tries to tell you that breastfeeding is a breeze is full of shit. Feel free to tell them I said that, too. I wouldn't change it for the world. The benefits (like being almost back to pre-pregnancy weight at 5 weeks postpartum) clearly outweigh the pain in the ass factor. However, it is a battle and some days I feel a lot less like a warrior and more like a POW. Regardless, I guess I will keep calm and let him latch on.

Ramblings of Epic Proportions

One of the blessings...and curses...of living is that you learn something every day. Sometimes it is something small, like you can't put foil in the microwave, or something big, like how the smallest thing (be it words or actions) can stick with someone forever.

Today has been one of those days where I didn't sleep last night, which means I was thinking. A lot. And with my thinking comes reflecting on myself, my life, current situations, past situations, and everything in between. So last night has just continued over into today. And now I am realizing how much this affects my kiddos. Let me explain...

Throughout my life I have been told that when someone is being hateful or talking shit about me or being mean, that is doesn't say anything about me, but a lot about them. People who are negative and shitty towards another are often times just projecting how they feel about themselves onto another person. It really has nothing to do with YOU, but everything with how shitty they feel about themselves and where they are in life. Obviously, this is not ALWAYS the case...but often times it is.

Another good life lessons is, everything is relative. We all live different lives, have different views on situations, and think differently from one another. Thank God. Imagine how lame it would be if we all thought/felt/acted the same. But with that comes a shitload of misunderstanding, hurt feelings, and annoyance. I can tell you, when I was struggling with raising a kid alone in a state far from any family, working two jobs, coping with having a sick parent, dealing with an ex husband and a crazy/hectic relationship...I didn't really give two shits about some of the (what I perceived as...) petty shit people would talk to me about. Your biggest problem is whether or not to go on a date? Are you fucking kidding me? BUT. That was important to them. And thank goodness they didn't have to deal with the stress and anxiety and loneliness that was consuming me at the time. It is really easy to be all, "woe is me" and "I have it harder than you", when in reality, someone else is feeling the exact same way. We all just need to take a step back and understand that everything is relative. Just because we don't see something as important, to another person it may be a life changing situation. Perspective goes a long way.

Also, I read today that "we are not born with roots, we are born with feet, so we can move at any time". What a great gift to be able to change and grow. We are only human. We make mistakes. We do dumb shit. And that is part of life. The only REAL mistake we can make, is not working to better ourselves when we do aforementioned dumb shit. Every day is a day to grow and change. If you don't like something about your life, change it. There is ALWAYS something you can do. Don't like your job? Update your resume and start putting it out there. You might not find a new one right away, but you at least now have your foot in the door, instead of three blocks away. Not happy with how short your temper is? MAKE the decision to start counting to ten before speaking when you are mad, buy a self help book, join a group, get some counseling. It might be something tiny, but it can spark a whole new way of life.

I could go on and on and on with the little sayings and how they are relative to life, but I will spare you. Let's get into how this all affects the kids.

Once you have a kid, everything is about them. Everything. If we are in a shit mood, we can unintentionally take it out on our child. If we cuss in front of them, they'll probably end up cussing too. If we smoke/drink/do drugs, etc our kids will see it and think it is normal or ok. SCIENCE proves that shit, ya'll. Real life is not "Do as I say, not as I do". Real life means they see how we act and are as people, and inevitably take on some of those qualities.

Now no one is perfect. I am FAR from it. I cuss all the time. And my son has been known to let a word or two slip. I have a bad temper and yell, my kid yells. So yea, it sucks when they pick up on the negative shit we do...but we have the power to instill in them some seriously amazing positive things.

As mommy and daddy, we have to teach our kids that these bullies who make fun of them are probably insecure and that the problem is that kid. (And also intervene and take action when necessary) In fact, we should probably teach them some empathy for the mean kid. Maybe that little asshole really just needs a friend, or some positive reinforcement. We have the ability to teach our kids how to show compassion, even when it is hard.

A HUGE HUGE HUGE situation is the relativity. I cannot tell you how fucking annoyed I get when my son melts down over something little like making a 94 instead of a 100 on a test. It is still an A. THAT is something to be proud of. But to the kiddo that is a huge thing. He studied all week, knew the subject matter by heart, and then did less than perfect. (If you have an autistic gemini, this is some serious shit) So to us, it isn't a big deal, we are still proud, but to them it is a HUGE ordeal. Everything is relative. We may not understand how Amy saying she isn't friends with Suzy this week is grounds for a breakdown of epic proportions. But it isn't about us. It is about them. At some point that would have been a big deal to us too....remember that. It'll make your kid feel more loved and important and understood by you, which in turn, will help them come to you later about different/more important situations. (I read that in an article)

And finally...change. Change is good. Change is scary. Change is fucking hard. But we can all change. For better or for worse. I think that is such a wonderful thing to instill in our kids, that at any moment, we can decide to make a change and do something better with our lives. I can tell you, I have made a million changes in my life. And sometimes I failed, even when I had great intentions, but it was worth the lesson learned. Just because you fuck up, does not mean you are stuck there. Make the change and become better than you were the day before. My son had a meltdown of epic proportions last night and destroyed the lego train set he had been diligently working on for a week. I mean that shit is tore up. After his meltdown he was so upset that he did that. So I told him, it is ok, you made a mistake, and now we learn from it. Next time instead of wrecking your toys, go scream into a pillow or punch the couch. All we can do is realize we made a mistake and learn from it.

I am definitely not trying to be all Dr Phil. I fuck up with this whole parenting thing daily. However, I do know that as long as I am trying and working on myself, the good will come out in my parenting and in my child. Once we have kids, nothing is about us and every single thing we do will impact our child in one way or another. I have personally made it my goal to focus on taking care of myself and bettering myself this year (and every year after that). I know if I do that my parenting abilities will improve and my kid(s) will reap the benefits. I am going to screw it up some days and fall flat on my face at some point, but there will be those days when my kid gets it, sees the lesson in the struggle and it helps him.

My challenge to you...do something to improve yourself. Make a change for the better.

39 Weeks (One Day) And Counting

Apparently blogging every day is not possible. Here I thought we were this intriguing family...but really we are just three people getting on each other's nerves and repeating the same routines on the daily. (Routines are key in an autism house)

Right now our biggest excitement is #BabyWatch2015. Our new addition is due January 15th, but we have been told numerous times that it could be any minute now. However, after 3 fake outs, and the belly only continuing to grow and make me more uncomfortable, I have decided he will probably never come out. I know I am not even past due yet (like a gallon of milk or something), but this has literally been the longest pregnancy ever. I found out I was pregnant basically during conception and it feels like I have been knocked up for 58 months. Seriously.

Now don't get me wrong, I am beyond thrilled and happy that I am pregnant. I know that MANY women can't have babies. In fact, I wasn't supposed to have Bowen, let alone this one. So I am not taking my bulging belly and fertile Myrtle status for granted. But, I am definitely ready to have a baby in my arms...

We have been trying to naturally induce since about 36 weeks along. We did an ultrasound and the baby was all formed and perfect and just plumping up. Perfect time to try the old wives tales. (Except for castor oil. I tried that with my first one...and fuck that...never again.)

First I started taking evening primrose oil. I used to take it when I was working out and eating clean and looking all fantastic. (I miss the abs. And the ass. And all of it.) Anyways, so I took one in the morning and one in the evening. I know you can insert one in your lady bits and it will dissolve overnight...but it kind of weirded me out. So I opted not to do that. The point of the evening primrose oil is to start thinning out your cervix...two check ups since I started this and I am only dilated to a one and not thinned out enough to even mention. So fuck you primrose oil, fuck you.

Then, we decided to start trying good ol' adult time. I mean we obviously never quit that, but now we can REALLY get after it. Or so we thought. Then the Texas chainsaw massacre happened in our (brand new, white bedding covered) bed and we had to go to the hopsicle for excessive bleeding..and contractions. After 4 hours they sent me home only dilated to a one and the encouraging, "We will be seeing you soon!!!" That was like three fucking weeks ago. So now we maintain a loving bumping and grinding and hope that the combination of O's and baby batter persuade my uterus to start seriously contracting and my cervix to start opening.

I have tried doing jumping jacks numerous times. Especially if I am already cramping or having contractions. My best friend told me this works. Unfortunately, the only thing it has resulted in is a steady stream of pee running down my legs and me sweating more than I already do. So sexy, right?

Spicy food was also something someone mentioned. I am not willing to try a ghost pepper or anything serious because I don't want my ass to be on fire IF I did happen to go into labor...but I have eaten some spicy food. And I only got heartburn and indigestion.

One weekend (the weekend of the massacre actually) we tried adult time...AND walking around the mall two days in a row. We walked for hours. My feet got all swollen and my back got all sweaty. I was having contractions so I got all excited. And then they just quit. Like always. I still walk...some days more than others...and it never gets me very far. (labor wise that is..) SO walking...is not working either.

Anyone who has ever been pregnant remembers how uncomfortable and miserable those last few weeks are. The kid is in your ribs and their head is in your vag and arms and knees are poking and punching you. You pee ALL the time. Often times on yourself. You are hot. And hormonal. I mean...really fucking hormonal. It is just time, ya know? The kid needs to arrive. For the prego's sake...and everyone else's. Because if you hear, "You STILL haven't had that baby yet?" or "Oh hunny, you are about to pop!" or even worse, "You are HUUUUGE!!!!" one more time...you may go postal and shank every single person near you.

So here we are...39 weeks, one day along, and baby boy seems happy as a clam, with no interest in evacuating any time soon. I think he is going to pull a Bowen and arrive on the day he is due...but, I wouldn't be too surprised if he was stubborn and we had to be induced because he is late. IF that does end up being the case, I really like sea salt caramel gelato and Sonic ice. Just help a sister out, because she is only going to continue to cry more and more each day that passes and a baby doesn't show up.

Love Less Glamorous

We have been childless for a week and a half now (thank you Nana), so my blogging has not really picked up yet for lack of inspiration. It has been a very mellow week and a half. A very nice break, but not something we are accustomed to at all.

But have no fear...as my significant other snoozes in the other room and I await the call to find out what time I can pick up my little boy, I have had some time to ponder on...the unthinkable. Well...maybe not unthinkable, but certainly something we are not "supposed" to speak of. Adult time.

I am not here to write the next 50 Shades (thank sweet baby Jesus, because I was LESS than impressed by that book), but to talk about real life. Being a parent changes your naughty time. A lot. And, from what I hear, it can become quite the issue.


Timmy and I never really got the "normal" sexperience. I had a 6 year old when we met, so obviously things were a little different from the beginning. There was no chance we were going to come home from work and strip throughout the house only to end in an erotic shower scene. Nope. That has never happened. We have a child. And three weeks after moving in together we were knocked up...which also changes things.

No one really talks about the hilarious and, sometimes, disappointing parts of sex that comes with being a parent. No one likes to be at the peak of penetration, only to have their little one tell them from behind the locked door, that they threw up. Or shit on themselves. I figure, what the hell, let's lay it on the line...and laugh.

First of all...pregnancy really fucks shit up in the sexual arena.
*First trimester you are pukey and tired and emotional. There is nothing sexier than puking up your berry oatmeal for thirty minutes and then climbing back into bed and kissing on your man's neck. Except for the fact that there may be an oat or two stuck in your hair and you now smell like a sorority girl the morning after her first kegger. And let's be honest, you probably don't want to kiss on your man's neck. Or any other part of him for that matter. HE DID THIS TO YOU. So not only are you barfing everywhere, you are angry and sad and crying over the sheets not being cold enough, and you need to hibernate...forever. Sex in the first trimester (at least for us) was few and far between.
*Second trimester holds some redemption. Thank the fuck. I know with this pregnancy I suddenly went from a double A cup (which means you fit into a training bar in the little girl's section at Target) to a full B in just a few months. Hello you glorious, boobs, you. But they hurt...like a mother fucker... Regardless, you got something new for your man to look at...and sometimes...play with. And you aren't as big as a bus yet. You may be sporting a little belly, but you can still manage to get into all those positions that really work for you. You aren't as barfy all the time and you have a smidgen more energy. All in all, the second trimester is the peak of sexual activity (at least for me...obviously there are some of you freak of nature perfect pregnant women out there) but by the time you realize you should have taken more advantage of it, it'll be too late.
*Third trimester...ughhhhhh. You are a whale. Well. I am a whale. Sex has gotten awkward as fuck. There is obviously something in between you and your loving partner. And it is this HUGE, moving, entity... I know personally, I do not feel sexy at all. I feel like no matter what position I am in, Timmy is looking at my martha (my double chin), and my vagina used to be this cute little thing..now she has gained some pregnancy pounds as well. Plus my once NICE ass is jiggly and my thighs, once again, rub together. It is REALLY hard for me to feel like a little sex kitten given my physical appearance. Not only that, but for me, the good times have not only become awkward, but a little painful. So half of the time my dude ends up with blue balls...and the other half...he has to handle me like a china doll. Not ideal. And not only that, we somehow went from two positions working for us, to one. I haven't got to lovingly gaze into his eyes in three months. All he has seen is the back of my head. AND honestly, for him, that may be for the best. I am a sweaty, giant beast...that ain't tha business. And finally..third trimester means labor is imminent. One SUPPOSEDLY great way to naturally induce labor is doing the dirty. So sex goes from a fun thing, to a serious mission. Don't get me wrong, both of us hit the "peak" if you will, but there is no lying, it is not the same as pre-pregnancy bumping and grinding. And I apologize, my love, but I just want this child out of me. I promise...normal sex will resume in the next couple months.


Now, for those of you who are past the pregnancy sex (lucky you) and now have small children running around, it is a whole new ball game. It is no longer about 9 long, steamy innings, but more like a sprint to the finish line. But a sprint that is filled with obstacles. Finding a spot you won't be disturbed in. Being quiet. Ignoring the diapers and wipes and pee-pee teepees in sight. Getting it done quickly...but not too quickly. And then, playing it off when your kid asks what the hell you were doing.  (taking a nap, of course)

Usually you don't have an hour to warm up. At our house, we are usually very spur of the moment. The kid is deeply enthralled in a movie, he is at school and we happen to be home at the same time, those type of situations. SO you sneak off for a quick thrill. It is a rare time when you can actually spend the time exploring one another's bodies and kissing and touching and all those fun, passionate things you got to do pre-children. Not to downplay the quickie, as it can be some of the best, hottest sex ever, but it is different.

Or, when you are child free, you try to get all dirty and naughty like you used to, and you end up pushed up against the chore chart. Or your kid is finally asleep, it is relatively early, and you realize you are just too fucking tired to get it on. No shame. We have all been there. And that is what real life is like.

I will say this, on our last childless break for what I am sure will be a long while, we did have some time to get back to it. And, yes, it was awkward and limited due to this gigantic belly of mine, but it was also really, really great. SO...parents of the world...take it back to high school and do some making out. Feel each other up. And after the deed is done, lay in bed and talk. I can honestly say, it will make you remember what it was first like with your other half, and you may even appreciate them even more than you do already. A little nookie goes a long way.

What LL Cool J Said...

2015 is upon us and it has been well over a year since I have blogged. But let's be honest...2013, and especially 2014, have kind of sucked serious dick for skittles. In fact, I think it is safe to say that 2014 really tried to break this bitch down. And it came close. But you know what I always say (or have like once), don't fuck with me...I fuck back and I am much better at it than you. So take that, 2014.

I am not a New Year's resolutioner, I think it is setting yourself up for failure, and I am not a big fan of failing. But recently I have become a self improver. Part of my self improvement is getting back on my blog. Once upon a time I wrote some pretty witty shit. And now that I am about to be a mother of two little shits, I mean boys, I figure I should make a come back. (Even though I been here for years) If one kid was inspiration, two kids should get me on some sort of important/exceptional/impressive writer's of 2015 list.

SO brace yourselves for what is sure to be the most thrilling reads of 2015.

Just to catch you up on the year past, here are some highlights.

February...my baby daddy, Timmy, and I made it official and went from "just friends" to a couple. Apparently he really likes to give his "friends" special mustache attention. All I know is, it worked for me. And NOW I am carrying his offspring and we are living a modern American life. In sin.

April...Timmy, Bowen, and I moved in together. About three weeks later we were pregnant. This is why you need cable, people.

June....Owen Wilson (AKA Bowen) turned 7 years old. I feel like it is impossible to have a 7 year old, but I was reminded this year in a birthday card that I am pushing 30...so apparently it isn't that crazy.

July...we found out Bowen is autistic. Now all the nudity and flapping makes sense. And we have had a MUCH better school year this year. Thank the fuck. Quite a game changer, but for the better.

September...we found out our new addition is another BOY. I am officially overrun by penises.

October...I turned the big 28. Not exciting in the least...but I did get to celebrate another birthday, which is the tits. So there's that.

November...makes me sad all day. My Dad passed away. I would say, lost his fight to cancer, but he didn't lose at all. The man was a warrior. He blew everyone away with his strength and changed a lot of lives. I miss him every single day.

And now we are here...December. I am almost 38 weeks pregnant, but really the kid could come any day now. And I would be SO stoked if he would move that process on along. I am the size of a small beluga whale and I sweat a lot. It is not the business.


Anyways, there ya go, my year abbreviated.

I promise to include you in on the shenanigans that I encounter on the daily. Your life can use some humor and mine can use some...venting. Or at least a hobby. So grab a bevvie of your choice and settle in for a new year of raising kids and hell.

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. ;-)

Deep Thought Word Vomit

Most of the time I am full of inappropriate sayings, bad words, dirty jokes, and all those things most people try to hide. I take pride in my outspoken, hardcore, don't-fuck-with-me attitude. I love that shit. However, I have this problem that makes it really hard to be all I-Will-Cut-A-Bitch all day every day. The problem is, I hurt if someone else hurts. It hurts me when someone I love is hurting. I physically feel it. It sucks. BUT I do a good job at hiding it most of the time. Lucky for you all.

Anyways...I am in a serious mood..I have a lot of stuff weighing heavy on my heart and what better way to get it off my chest than to spew it to those surfing the world wide web? Here ya go...spewing is beginning...

I was on Pinterest just a few minutes ago and there was a picture of the cutest little boy on his first day of preschool rocking some pink and white zebra shoes. So of course, I clicked on the link and read the story to go with it. Long story short, this little boy loved these pink zebra striped shoes and his mom tried to tell him they were for girls and the kid said he didn't care. He went to his first day of preschool and got a ton of compliments and everyone his age loved the shoes. He did not get made fun of, which was his mom's fear. His mom posted the picture on her facebook and had numerous comments on how that was ridiculous, she was going to make her child gay, etc etc etc. The mom deleted the picture (and hopefully a bunch of her "Friends" who had such shitty opinions) and then told the little boy he would wear pink shoes if he wanted to, just do what makes him happy. He told his mom he didn't choose the shoes because they were pink, he chose them because they were zebra and zebra was his favorite animal. So I read this and it pisses me off and makes me sad. What the hell has happened to people? Grown adults berating a child and his parent over a pair of fucking shoes. THAT is pathetic. ABSOLUTELY disgusting. And it breaks my heart for that mother. But, mostly for that child and my child and all children, because that is how the world works today, and they are pure and innocent and deserve so much more than that in the future.

We are ALL guilty of judging someone. Fuck, I do it, and I HATE it. I sometimes catch myself and am super disappointed. However, I think I am pretty good at being open minded and accepting of all people. If we all made a little more effort to not judge people, how much better would the world be?

After the shooting in Newtown it seems like debate and hate have reached an all new high. It is so depressing that when a tragedy such as this occurs we don't come together as a nation or group, we fight with each other. I am the queen of debate. I fucking love a good debate. But I also go into one knowing that not everyone shares my opinion. And I certainly am not trying to change someone's opinion. I learned a long time ago that it is almost impossible, so why risk a friendship or something over that? What happened was awful. It made me cry. I have a kindergartner. What if that was his school? His class? It is terrifying. Does something need to be done so we can send our baby's to school and not worry? Of course...but attacking each other is not solving anything. Now is the time we need to hug our kids a little closer, be thankful that we still have the ability to hold our child, and come together to work on a solution. No parent should ever have to hear that their child was murdered. No child should ever have to witness such an atrocious crime. This is a tragedy. That is the only way to describe it. So in the wake of tragedy, let's come together and help each other get through it, not hurt each other more.

On a personal note, because let's face it, it IS all about me... I have had SO MUCH shit talked about me for taking self portraits. Caring what I think about my appearance. Wearing wigs. Touching up my make up after lunch. Wearing what I wear. Having tattoos. Cussing. I went through a SUPER ugly stage in junior high. I got made fun of ALOT. Then I got cute. Thank Jesus. Then I got married, had a kid, and ya know, was not so cute. In fact, I was told at one point that being seen naked was gross and basically there would be no dirty dirty with the lights on. So, my self esteem was a wreck. I got out of that relationship. Lost baby weight. Got my self confidence back. I have been through some shit in life. I have been in an abusive marriage. I have literally had to start life completely over while raising a baby and battling depression. I have watched my best friend die of cancer as a child and I am watching my Dad fight (DEFEAT) cancer again. I have listened to my kid cry and tell me he doesn't have a Dad and now ask me if I was going to leave like everyone else. I raise a five year old on my own, no family near me, I have managed to figure out how to make $20-30 bucks in groceries last a week, while packing a kid's lunch every day. I have had weeks of ramen noodles every night to make that work. (Thank God I like ramen lol) The point is, I do my make up and wear sexy/cute clothes and wear wigs because I like it. It makes me feel good and confident when I have my face on and my jeans and heels make my ass look nice. And right now I don't like my hair because it is in a weird growing out stage because I shaved my head completely fucking bald to raise money for childhood cancer. And I didn't think being bald would affect me, but it fucked my confidence level UP. And unless you've been there, you don't know how it will affect you. I take pics of myself because on that day I feel pretty. And I don't feel pretty and cute every day. So when I do, I take a pic and the next time I don't feel cute I can go look at that pic and remind myself that I am a really pretty person. I don't do it for compliments, though everyone likes a compliment, I do it for me. I wear make up for me. I wear wigs because I fucking love wigs and changing my look. And I love my high heels and will wear them until I can't anymore. I do that stuff for me...not for anyone else. So thankfully, after being called four eyes and nerd and ugly since the first grade, I can handle people talking shit. I guess the thing is..in the heat of the moment people just talk. They don't stop to think about the impact their words may have on someone. How one little thing can affect someone for so long...change their view on life..love..everything.

The fact of the matter is, we were all raised differently, taught different things, came from different walks of life. Even people raised by the same parents take different life lessons and memories from their childhood than their brother and sister. No two people are alike, the great thing is, we can learn something from each and every person. I have been so blessed to meet so many amazing people in my life and gain so many life lessons in doing so. I can name off something great about every single person in my office. And while I don't always agree with that person, they still have something good about them that I can take something away from and that is truly a blessing that we all have.

No worries everyone...tomorrow I will be working and not watching Grey's Anatomy and reading the news all day...so I will be back to my "I will stab you in the eye with a rusty spoon" self.