Sing to me, and let me tune out the world John....

Picture somewhat unrelated-altho-he is beautiful

John Mayer is singing sweetly in my ears tonight. I needed him tonight. We are old friends. We go way back. Okay, maybe not way back.... like 10 years or so ago I saw him singing on MTV and I thought gee, he's quite lovely. I have always loved music. At one point in my young life I did the choir thing... think 'Glee' but with less cool song choices. Music, lyrics, rhythms... they speak to me, they take me to certain moments of my own life. In John's case- he got me through. Through divorce. Through pain. He soothed and I love him for that. He's always there too, like an old blankie or your favorite sweatshirt. I just turn him on, and tune out. Tonight, I am tuning out somewhat. Tuning out from the news, tuning out from the quiet of another night without my love. Tuning out after walking out of the grocery store today and finding out that the man in the car 2 spots from mine in the parking lot... killed himself... in his car.

Suicide. Aside from my own grandfather, who gave up when I was only 2, I have never known anyone personally that has given in and ran away permanently. That said, I have been close to those who have known someone personally that took their own life. My husband, for instance, walked into his buddies house as soon as the gun went off and sat on the floor holding a rag to his friend's head until the rescue squad came. Of course it was too late. It changed my husband forever. It made him feel helpless and angry, and he is neither of those things. I could go on listing folks, but it's sort of pointless and perhaps a bit too much for a blog.

I thought about my husband and about his friend and about all the other souls that left us too soon, and those of us left behind. All this while the kind firemen loaded my ridiculous amount of groceries into my truck for me in a great hurry. They wanted me to wait back at the store and bring me my car, but I was already there, and the twins were too busy ooo-ing and aaahh-ing at the firetrucks and such to care about what was actually going on. I put the kids in their seats and we beat feet out of that parking lot and left it behind. But I didn't. I've been thinking about that poor man all afternoon. Was he in the store? Did I walk past him? Did I smile at him or not if he was even there? If someone had shown him a moment of kindness, would he have changed his mind? How does a person get there? I battle depression daily, but I am also aware of that fact that there is so much good in my life. Much to live for. Lives to care for. People to love. People that love me. I've hit rough patches, really rough patches... the rough patches I hit about 10 years ago were like huge gaping bottomless potholes. But there were people in my life loving me and supporting me and caring for me and I never went there... I never thought of it. My only thought was that I had to make it through, for those people that love me, for those people that I love, and mostly for myself.

And there was John singing sweetly to me every night as I went to sleep. Helping me tune out the world.

So no random rambling tonight about curtains that are the wrong color, and curtain rods that are not available in the size I need, and how my kids manage to make the bathroom look like New Orleans after Katrina when they shower. Just some quiet introspection... and John. And tell those that you love... that you love them... because you never know who may need to hear it the most.....

Full circle... with cursing....

Shite... it's like shit only a little bit more P.C. Some people say crap, poop, feces, it's straight up SHIT, and that's what I feel like right now. Serious pent up angst and shit. And worry. Sickening amounts of worry. Not hearing from someone for several days when they are living in a war zone and the world has gone mad... it's making me freakin nuts. I am constantly saying to myself.... well no news is good news right? I figure if someone had something bad to tell me they would have told me by now... I'm hoping that's the way of it anyway.

Aside from that there's been drama stewing with the x and the step-mother, which basically boils down to this- #1 son is turning into a teenager. In his awesome teenagey angsty way he wants to live here when they piss him off and there when I piss him off. Pissing him off can include things like, telling him to do any of the following- laundry, dishes, cleaning, taking out the trash, letting the farking dog out, or even not picking on his younger siblings. Are you freaking serious? Yes, yes I am. Damn, was I like this as a teen? Cuz if so, I kinda want to punch myself right now. His attitude and the hefty chip on his shoulder are making me freaking nuts.

And don't get me started on the twinados.... terrible twos times two is no freakin joke folks. Please stab me in the foot, but use a spork, k? I have a low threshold for pain. I am also finding that I have a lower and lower threshold for losing my mind when mini-man tells me- No and I can't. Did that sentence even make sense? It did in my mind, but now that I've written it... ahh screw it. Ya'll know there is vodka in my cup. 

I had it in my mind to write something more eloquent and witty and blah blah blah. But sometimes the word vomit just has to come out like this. There is nothing I can do about it . It is what it is. I have been fairly antisocial of late. Which basically means I'm lurking around my FB pages and reading blogs but too lazy to say anything of value. I haven't been out of the house much at all aside from the grocery store and the dang blasted Target... where I buy tons of shit I don't need and then feel guilty about it, but not guilty enough to take it back. These are the highlights of my week. That and if a toddler has pooped or peed in their 'potty-dance pants'. How incredibly intriguing am I, huh? So exciting, I know.

So here's the bottom line~ I am a frustrated mother at my wits end with children, chores, and the constant worrying of having a husband overseas. That is the long and the short of it. The 20 lbs I've gained and the worry lines on my forehead are not helping matters. Good Lord, I feel older than I ever have, which technically I am at this moment, but when I look in the mirror... I'm all- Damn- who the hell is that crazy bitch staring back at me? She's got a huge zit on her chin! Someone should... oh fuck... that's me. Well shit. And now we're right back where I started. Shite! 

Did I mention... the curtains came... but were the wrong freakin color and now I have to ship them all back? Perhaps I didn't. But now you know, and knowing is half the battle....

Today's tiny little victory... and it has nothing to do with the toilet!

I am just so uber excited, I wanted to share my uber excitement and by doing so, you will see just how incredibly lame I am.

 Finally a decision! Finally, after weeks and weeks of deliberation... it's done. I am beyond excited! What am I excited about?
I am excited about curtains.
Curtains.
You did not misread.
I bought curtains for my living room today. Ordered them online. This was the highlight of my day. You are all ready to click to another blog, aren't you? That's cool. You do what ya want. I'm still gonna write this bitch.

I'm sure that you all may not be aware of the gravity of this situation. We have been living in this house for the last 4 and half years and the curtains in this living room were whatever I grabbed at Wally World when we moved in, just to have something on the windows. They are now dirty, dusty, and some are ripped in places because, well, they were prolly made in some sad foreign sweatshop. So, Sgt. Dad and I discussed window treatment options via Google Chat... for months. Like, since he left for his second trip overseas. I mean, we've discussed other things of course. Unpleasant things, hopes, fears, dream, stories about the kiddies etc etc. But always back to the curtains. The curtains were a safe topic. We compared and shopped and looked. It was a bit of fun for us. However in recent weeks it was becoming obnoxious and annoying. I know he was reaching a breaking point. Today he admitted- it was much like picking out paint- and he was thinking- just pick something already. He has been such a good sport about the stupid curtains.

Aren't they just awesome?!

It seems stupid. It seems lame. But I think there must have been something deeper here. I'm certain there was actually. Whatever it was, I have failed to see it. Perhaps if the antidepressants weren't fogging my brain I could find some way to turn this weird obsession with finding just the right freakin' curtains into some sort of emotional epiphany. Am I reading more into it than just my general propensity to be a perfectionist in some way? They are just curtains after all.
Now... I must find curtain rods!!

The end of the line?

All summer we sat around complaining of the heat, sleeping in, staying up late, slacking off, eating crap.... sweet sweet summertime... and then 2 weeks into school for the bigger boys and BAM... the cold germs were all, hey there! How ya been?? Let me just climb up in ya body and cozy up with your respiratory system. So comfy in there. WTH?! Every. year. Yuck. Always awesome when I'm sick too, because I don't get a break... just like every other mother on the face of this earth. Except like rich moms, with nannies and shit. They're all here take my kid whether they feel good or not. Oh and sea turtle moms... don't they like lay their eggs on the beach and walk off? You're on your own bitches, better learn how to feed yourself real fast!

I realize I've started another random blog post here folks... bear with me... I'm trying to reign it all into focus a bit because there is something I do wanna talk about here. (Obviously, right?) You all know a bit about me through random postings and bios and whatever. Some folks actually know me. Mostly I try to maintain a bit of anonymity though. Past experience has taught me that this is the best way to avoid drama in ones life, mostly because certain douchy people like to be judgmental, gossipy pains in the ass. If you want to be judgmental, please exit stage left or right. I really don't care. Just go. Now. Thanks. Reason being, I'm about to lay out some of my personal business here, and I don't need crap.

I may be a wee bit paranoid.
... and a lot bit depressed.
.... and insane amounts of anxious.

I've touched on this a bit before. Glazed over it. Covered it with laughter and wrapped it in sarcasm. It  is what I do. Like icing on a jacked up cake. I'm not sure when I actually put a name to what I've dealt with for so long. I'm certain it was long before the loss of my first set of twins, and the marriage counseling, and the therapy, the pills, the affairs, and the imminent destruction of my first marriage. I think I knew back in high school that my bad days were more than just raging or waning teenage hormones. I know now that genetics had a lot to do with it, and that my fully functional dysfunctional 'normal' family had a hand in it too. Depression is a nasty bitch that hangs around and thrives on anxiety. Even now, even medicated, it's lurking in my life. And now, based on insane amounts of research Sgt. Dad has done for me, it appears that these pills that I am on may be worse than the beast itself. So now what? I can't drop them cold turkey, I've been on them too long. The effects will apparently be debilitating regardless, and I intend to wait until Sgt. Dad comes home before I set anything into motion. The doctors just want to swap one pill for another. Sgt. Dad is looking at herbal remedies. I just want to refill my wine glass and sleep it off. Unfortunately, I'm a wife, and a mother, and right now I am the only one taking care of this house- sad state that it's in by the way... so that is not an option.

Not sure why I'm sharing this. Perhaps I have been inspired by others around me. Doesn't really matter why. I blog, therefore I share. And let me share this gem while I'm at it- Cymbalta is evil. Try not to get hooked on it. Seriously. No joke here. I'm beginning to deal with cognitive impairment, memory loss, and this awesome little thing people have termed brain zaps, or brain shivers where I feel completely disoriented for a hot minute. Not to be confused with hot flashes, because apparently I'm having those too. Perhaps coping with the beastly depression would have been better than coping with this....

So, while Martha Stewart clearly does not live in my house, it is becoming evident that I am not quite all here either....
It's my hope that I can continue to blog while attempting to ween myself off these unsuspecting brain leech pills... it makes for good self-therapy. (Is there such a thing?? If not, well then, I just made that up so HA!) It's bound to make for some interesting reading, right?
Hold on folks!.... we're in for a bumpy ride!

Now your day is complete.... You're Welcome!

Picture totally unrelated...

Woooo... I am pooped. Maybe I'm just freakin lazy but after a trip to the big box warehouse store of choice, picking up the older two, no naps for the younger two, dinner, and all the tantrums in between... I. Am. Exhausted.  Perhaps if I had started earlier, but it is a well known fact that I move at the speed of snail in the morning. I should have known it was gonna be a rough day when one of the trash bags that I was hauling over to my 'Durang-don't' to take to the dump... busted and the contents spewed all over the sidewalk. This trash-taking-the-dump thing would normally be Sgt. Dad's duty. This was decided long ago. However, he's not here. And since we live out in the middle of BFE... there's no trash pick up. So there I was cleaning up week old stinky diapers covered in... ick... while the twins stood next to me and said... 'Clean it up Mommy, Cleeeeaannn ITT! It smells STINKY  Mommy!' Seriously you all? You made that shit. I cleaned that shit. It's shit. It stinks. And now I have to clean it up again. And there were.... bugs. That's all I'm saying. I wanted to vomit.

Onward and upward though. After dropping the unsavories in the nearest dumpster... 3 miles away...  we headed to the warehouse store mostly for diapers, and fruit snacks. Mini-man is addicted to gummy fruit snacks. Addicted. No Joke. This was a 20 plus minute drive. Did mention the road construction? And the asshats that can't seem to comprehend the whole sort of jersey wall/ pylon thing going on because of the construction. I wanted to roll down the window and be like hey asshat! I have a lane, you have a lane, you don't have your lane and half of mine fucktard. Did I mention that as I was pulling out of my driveway some old guy on a yellow moped drove past me? I guess I didn't. He yelled something at me. It was creepy. And also funny. Mostly funny. Did I also mention that every dang time we get in the truck the twins have to find freakin rocks in the driveway to take with them. WTF is that? Annoying. Seriously. Do you have any clue how much gravel is rolling around in my truck??

The parking lot of the warehouse store was quite entertaining. I think the seniors citizens must have gotten their checks today. I saw one woman... and I kid you not... I actually said out loud to myself... OMG... it's Carrot Top's mother! (Old Carrot Top- Not creepy steroid Carrot Top.)------> That shit is Scary...
I then realized my window was open. HA! Dang though, someone should tell that poor old woman that hair should just not be that shade of orange. Oh oh... and there was the old dude with a Santa Beard. Baby-Lady quickly piped up and exclaimed.. LOOK Mommy- It's Santa Cwaws! She did that. No lie. The trip was, for the most part, uneventful, minus the old folks. I did end up with cake. Delicious cake. Oh my. It was so tasty. Like I need cake. Soooo tasty. Oh, and 3 bottles of wine. Which the girl at the check-out rang up, put in my cart, and looked at me with raised eyebrows. Bite me. I'm not a drunk. Well, not in the light of day anyway. I may need to adjust my coping skills, but whatev. Not like I'm going to drink them all at once. That should last me at least like 5 days.... maybe.

Oh, and a random thought. I think I have cradle-cap. WTH?! Not dandruff. My x had dandruff... til he shaved his balding head. I know what it looks like. What the what? I wash my hair. WTH is this scaling orange scabby crap on my scalp? According to some random website reading it can be brought on by hormonal changes and some kind of fungus. I'm sure your day is complete knowing this. Hey, at least it's not head lice... Was down that road with the older two twice last year... both times after visiting their cousins with their dad. Not saying anything. Just sayin'.

Also, I would like to apologize... this blog has no point. I just hadn't written for a while and the word diarrhea had to get out. Thanks for stopping by and sharing my crazy with me... Cheers!

Face-time vs. Face-time with sticky toddler kissies....

Every mother's dilemma.... to work or not to work. When my boys were little, and I mean, really little, I was home with them, and my x in his infinite wisdom thought I should babysit other small children to supplement our sad income. Confession: I did not enjoy this. I especially did not like cleaning other kids poop. My own kids- fine- no problem. Other people's kids- GROSS.
 That is how I feel about that. No I don't want to change your kids diaper. Maybe this is why I feel guilty about leaving my kids in other folks care. Back to the story though...

When the x and I entered splitsville it became necessary for me to go back to work, because, well basically he cut me off, and in hindsight I don't blame him. I didn't want to go, but childcare was obtained and a job was found and off I went. It was probably the best thing to ever happen to me. I met amazing people who are now some of my best friends. I felt useful and intelligent and productive. I kicked butt at what I did and felt almost irreplaceable.... and then... poof... the doctor says you're having twins. Well damn. Childcare is insanely expensive, as it should be I suppose, now that I am looking at it through the eyes of a SAHM. The ratio of the cost of childcare vs. my salary did not compute. As a matter fact it would have sent us almost into the negative. There was no point. So, I sadly resigned my position with the most amazing supervisor that anyone could ever have and turned in my keys (and kept my badge cuz it was the best picture of me ever) and walked away when the twins were born. I was replaced. Life moved on. 

I have spent the last two plus years loving and kissing and hugging on my lovelies. I am hardly away from them. Every moment they are awake, I am the one caring for them. I am the one controlling their environment, what they eat, what they see, how they are cared for. I am also the only one changing diapers, disciplining, kissing booboos, cleaning up the spills, the messes, the crayon on the floor, dealing with the tantrums and the sibling tiffs. I'm feeling a little... road rashed.

I suppose at this point, you're wondering what the point is here besides just random rambling. I got a phone call this morning. There's a position available with the agency I used to work for. Same type of position I had, same pay, different department, different supervisor. My name is apparently being bandied about. It is suggested I send in an application.

Immediately I thought... oh, no way. If I can't have my old position back with my old awesome boss then no. And then I drank more coffee, and I started to over-analyze, and I started to get anxious, and obsess. It's not like I spent years getting an education for some high-paying power type job. This is admin stuff. I like it, I don't love it, and I'm certainly not certain I would like this particular position in this particular dept. There would definitely be more face time and less hiding away in my own office with the door shut. We all know I'm not a people person, right? It's a Monday thru Friday gig with holidays off, sick time, vacation time, and even health insurance. These are all good things.

Let's talk dollar signs. Sgt Dad is still away and will be for a few more months, and when he comes back there is no guaranteed employment for him besides his weekend commitments to Uncle Sam which pay for crap btw, in case you were wondering about that. So not worth the headaches that Uncle Sam's self-importance brings. And we've already concluded that this potential admin job pays for crap. So is it worth it?

And now let's talk about change. Change is scary, insanely scary to me. Change my routine, change my schedule. Hell, having a schedule. All frightening. Like nail-biting, anxiety-attack inducing scary. Don't raise your eyebrow at me. That is how it feels... to me.

Then there's all the crap I do at home already... subtract the amount of time I have to do it,  add in a 40 hour work week, and subtract the husband who isn't here.... well basically... I just don't know if I'm capable of it all and yes, before you accuse me of being lazy, I openly admit... no, no, no... I openly flaunt the fact that I am indeed lazy. I mean, after all, Martha Stewart doesn't live here, right? And neither does June Cleaver for that matter. I'm more of a Frankie Heck....

'The Middle's' Frankie Heck...

.... Although she does have a job and she even tries to join the PTA and stuff... which I won't. Don't ask me to sign up for your Fall Festival stuff... not doing it... even if I am a SAHM.

All of this leaves me right back where I was... I want to work, and I want stay home and I can't freakin decide and now I feel like this is the only opportunity I might get without serious pavement pounding because I lack a serious formal education and a fancy degree. What's a middle-aged broad like me supposed to do.....

I didn't even discuss feelings of inadequacy as a mom... or inadequacy as a productive member of society...

In cases of extreme indecision such as this...

Wine is the only viable option... at least for tonight.....

Helicopters, HoppaChoppas, and Potty Training, Oh MY!!

Morning peeps and freaks! A beautiful Friday morn here in the country. Had to wake the Diva-Princess up this morning, and she was none to pleased about that, but dang it was 9:30 and seriously girly get up. She's making us pay for my insolence now though. She is perfecting her stink eye, I can feel it burning into the side of my face. Should make for an awesome day. Mini-man, who has informed me that he is 'just a guy' is tearing his coloring book into tiny pieces and then dropping said pieces onto the floor and yelling 'looooook! hopperchopppper!!'
Get to da Choppa!!!
Couldn't help it. The coffee is quite tasty this morning. The cream of wheat was hot. Too hot according to the Diva-Princess. She was very angry about that. But then consider her mood. I do enjoy the occasional bowl of cream of wheat, but it must be brown sugar with maple syrup in it. delish. Peanut butter and bacon sammies are also tasty. Don't hate. They are nom. It's bacon people, how can you go wrong with bacon? Don't turn your nose up at me. It is truly amazing. For reals.

Moving on. So here's what's up. These tiny people are just a few short months away from turning 3 and I'm quite... well... stuck. The subject is, potty training.... and we'll get back to that in a bit.... because my mother came over and I had to pretend to be Martha Stewart for like the entire afternoon. Ok. Not Martha Stewart, but I had to make food, and clean and do mommy things and look like I don't spend my entire day on this computer. Which I don't. Not the entire day anyway.
So now it's late and the day is done, and I remember... I never finished writing this. The wine is flowing freely now and I am still pondering potty training. I don't remember this crap being so hard with the older boys, but then life was different. Divorce, and work, and babysitters, and perhaps I really wasn't the one that actually potty trained them, the sitters were.... and dang they didn't get paid enough for this shit. I want to poke myself in the eye. So we buy the 'potty dance pants'... commonly referred to as pullups and I'm thinking yea, they will be uber excited to wear these and have Disney characters on their little dupas. I even bought regular under-guchies thinking the same thing. Fail. 'I don't want to wear the potty dance pants Mommy.' Any clue how hard it is to put an item of clothing on a child when said child does not want to wear it? So I was like... okkkkayyyy. How about naked time? They can run around naked and they'll be like hey I don't want to pee/ crap on the floor, let me do this in the potty. Fail. Mini-man was horrified. He screamed like I dipped him in acid. And now he tells me things like, 'put on my diaper Mommy, I don't want to pee on the floor/ on your bed/ on the porch/ in the yard.' To which I respond, ok then pee in the potty. At which point he tells me--- 'NO, I CAN'T!!!' The Diva-Princess pretty much responds the same way only a bit less vehemently. I stupidly attempted to reason with these midgets about why they feel they can't. I mean they follow me to the toilet every time I go so they fully aware of what is supposed to happen. Mini-man tells me basically 'I don't wanna put my butt on the toilet'. Diva-princess responds with squeals, looks adorable, and then changes the subject.

I lost patience today and walked away only to have Mini shut himself in the pantry and proceed to crap himself after which he opened the door and announced to all and sundry- 'I made a stinky poop! Change my diaper Mommy! Change It!!!' This happened today. Grandma thought it was hysterical. Me- not so much. He knows what he's doing. He knows where he supposed to do it. He. Just. Won't. Stubborn little turd.
I'm not looking for advice folks. Just venting. It's a long and frustrating road to under-guchie land, and there are so many obstacles along the way. Mostly my lack of patience and a serious feeling of inadequacy as a parent though. Those are the biggest hurdles. As long as they can wipe their butts by kindergarten I figure I'm good, so that gives me a bit more time.
Get to da chopppa! The diaper's about to BLOW!