Momma's Boys

So, Who watched Momma's Boys? I didn't mean to. I reserve my television for times where no Turkeys will interrupt, and I can really veg. But tonight my jaw is 2 times it's normal size thanks to an impacted wisdom tooth that my dentist was "positive" didn't need to come out. Not the first time my x-ray's have turned out to be liars, so I happen to have antibiotics and Vicodin here.
Vicodin and I have a love hate relationship. If it weren't addictive I might take it just to get my house clean. Don't know why...but it makes me want to scour every inch of my house with bleach & lysol. It also makes me z-o-n-e. So, I somehow got sucked into watching parts of the new TV show on NBC. I wouldn't have, cause I'm SO much stronger than that (ya friggin right) BUT...I know one of those chicks!

They showed her face while she was speaking, and she caught my eye from my place underneath the recliner where every dadgum dustbunny in the entire world goes to die. Her name is Rana, and it said she's from Dallas, but I'm 99% sure she's really from ****** (EDIT: You know..there just might be a reason her real city wasn't listed, so I took that part out.) I think that I worked with her at a restaurant called Bahama Breeze. 'Back in the day'. Before I hooked up with the law firm, before I hightailed my fanny to the mountains, I'm almost totally sure that I knew that chick.

And, it made me feel kinda like a rockstar. So, wherever you are Rana...What's up chick? ...I REALLY want some coconut prawns right now. Thanks for the trip down memory lane! And, if I don't know you...this is some freaky dream or someshizz...I'm sorry. I won't stalk you, I promise.

PS..HOSTESS! I think. Man. This is really gonna bug me.

PPS..I stole that picture from NBC's website... Please don't sue me.

PPPS..I would totally ruin my boys chances on that show. Poor girls wouldn't know what hit 'em.

I'm ready!

I think, today, I finally got into the spirit of this Christmas. The two older Turkeys are down with another stomach bug, so we spent the day watching Christmas DVD's. Ate tons of popcorn, and the baby and I polished off an entire bag of candy cane oreos.
My oldest developed an affinity to peppermint tea (I knew it was only a matter of time) and I sent the neighbor kid home with the rest of the cookies and fudge sitting on the counter-top.

It was quiet, and lazy, and just what I needed to remind me that this is what Christmas, or any holiday, is about. Hanging out with the people you love the most, doing the things that make you smile and feel good inside, and not worrying about what tomorrow is going to bring.

I love you, my babies. Get better tonight.

Laying Tiger to rest today...

I've been taking care of a kitty that doesn't belong to me for a while now. His owner lived in a neighborhood on a busy road in Ft. Worth, and this cat doesn't allow you to leave him indoors. So, I took him in. Hey...free cat food.

About a week after my beloved Tigie went missing, the house-guest kitty (Simba) came home one evening quite lethargic. The next morning he started to hemorrhage, and continued bleeding for about an hour. With no way to get him to a vet, and no money to afford one..I took care of him the best I could. After about 3 days, he started acting better. He was walking around, eating, drinking without me holding the bowl under his nose. He was still 'leaking', not blood..but not good either (gross, I'm sorry) so I had to keep him in the garage. Then in my bathroom once it got too cold outside. The last 2 days, he's been slowly losing steam. He was lethargic again, couldn't eat or drink without my help. Yesterday, it was again warm enough to put him in the garage. My bathroom had started to stink pretty bad, regardless of how many times I put out clean sheets.

I knew when I carried him back to the garage that he was a goner. His eyes were glazed over, and he was so limp. When I put him down, he stood there shaking until I moved his body into a laying position. At some point, he moved to the concrete floor and stretched out. My guess is he had a high fever, and died sometime in the night.

At this moment, the kids don't know. I'm waiting on Simba's owner to come take care of his body. The garage door is locked, so the kids won't inadvertently find him.
I am pissed off at this 'friend' of mine. The cat wasn't important enough for him to drive out here and get to a vet. But he offered to come 'get rid of him' for me days ago. I assumed that meant abandoning a very sick animal, which wasn't exactly an option. I didn't love Simba, but I couldn't allow him to be tossed aside like that...while he was still living, anyway.

Theres also the little fact that Tigie is still missing. Though, I really can't say I believe he's alive anymore. Watching Simba go through this hell made me very paranoid that someone is either purposely or stupidly hurting animals around here.
Something isn't right, and I can only pray if that is the case, that Tigie didn't hold on as long as Simba did.

I was never a cat person. Once, a long time ago.. I had Gypsy. I loved her, but never felt the need to replace her when she jumped over the balcony to go make a family, and never returned. Tiger was my lovey. He was a link to my best friend, and I cherished him all the more for that. I've missed him for almost 3 weeks now, and held out hope that he'd come home to me. Even after Simba became so ill, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was watching him die of the same thing that took Tiger from me. I didn't want to believe what I felt deep down.

We know when we lose something precious to us. If we listen to our hearts, we'll hear the truth. I've known Tiger was gone, and couldn't or wouldn't admit it to myself. So, I'm admitting it now. I'm laying him to rest in my heart and letting go.

P.S. Jennifer, I'm so sorry.

My Baby the Elf

Turkey #1 was an elf in her school pageant. Her only line was, "Don't worry Mrs. Claus...we'll figure it out!" And, like a pro~she nailed it.
What she didn't nail was her costume. This thing has been in the works since last month. She was originally going to be a stuffed animal, but requested a speaking line instead.

After spending the weekend with her Father & Step-Monster, she came home empty handed, even though we'd agreed he would handle the costume part of the play. I explained to the 3 of them that it's highly unlikely that I'll be able to find a cab willing to carry me to 39 different stores in search of a freaking elf costume, and that they would have to deal with it by Tuesday night.
To my amazement, they did. They were back Monday with a perfect costume, and promises that they won't let things like this fall through the cracks anymore. (Yea, right.)

Regardless, she looked adorable and did an amazing job! Cause she rocks!
Anyway, that's all I have time for. I'm a slave to the kitchen until all the neighbors know how much I appreciate them watching my back, and not running over my children while they're outside playing.

I still have a surprise, but it's waiting until after Christmas. Boo! Hiss! I know...I'm sorry. I wasn't given a choice in the matter. OK, so I was..and I chose. But, it's for your own good. I promise.
OK, seriously...there are cookies burning. What the hell? I thought I had at least another 2 minutes.

Prank gone wrong...

I can't stop laughing, or I'd give you a description of this video. You're just going to have to listen for yourself.

Giveaway...Hurry!!

You deserve a Christmas present. You do! I saw you on Santa's nice list the other night when we met up in the ghetoo! But, since Santa has much younger folks to concern himself with these days, he's not gonna just wrap up a little sumthin-sumthin for you without some effort on your part.

Don't get all worried. I know you have a lot to do. Presents to wrap, cookies to bake, and parties to plan...so this isn't going to be difficult. Just go here, leave a comment and if Santa picks you you'll get some goodies! If he doesn't, then keep reading and I promise you'll find something you can make for yourself that will fill the void. (And if you hate crafty things, then maybe you'll pick up some tips on how to never pay for toothpaste or toilet tissue again!) But hurry...I hear Santa has a spontaneous streak, and you never know when he'll click that button!

I hope everyone is having a lovely and peaceful Sunday afternoon. I know I am. An elf showed up and whispered in my ear. I can't tell you what he told me yet because it'll ruin the surprise, but stay tuned...because it's for you!

Disgusted

I am the kind of person who wraps my mind around something and doesn't let go. I'll obsess over things that are irrelevant to my life simply because it tugged at something inside me. Maybe I'm just bored. Yea...that's it. I'm bored and need a better hobby than any of the 34 I already have.

The last few days I've been obsessing over Caylee Anthony. I've watched all the jailhouse visits between her Mother, Casey and her Grandparents. I'm sickened at the lack of emotion Casey Anthony has shown her child and her family. I don't doubt that something is missing inside this woman that caused her to remove herself from Mother-hood, but I can't understand the blase attitude. At least fake some remorse!

In one of the first visits Grandmother says to Casey, "Caylee's third birthday is right around the corner, Casey..we have to find her before then. Caylee has to be home before her third birthday"
Casey responded with, "Caylee is my first priority too Mom." But her voice sounds more annoyed than concerned. She never cries, never pleads for the safe return of her baby, who she long ago claimed has been kidnapped.
I can't understand that. I can't understand her waiting a month to mention that her baby was missing either, so I suppose the difference lies somewhere in our genetic makeup.

It's an irrational emotion, but I feel guilty for every baby that's been abused. Baby, child, teenager, adult, senior citizen, animal...it doesn't matter. I have that lingering feeling that something should have been done, and why wasn't it? I believe that people who witness abuse and keep their silence are just as guilty as those who strike the blow.

Call me a nosy bitch...but if a 'friend' of mine couldn't figure out where her baby was for even a moment, I'd personally be on the phone with 911 regardless of the bullshit spewing from the woman's mouth.
Casey Anthony is a psychopath. She's shown no remorse for her missing child, except for flatly stated comments that could have been read from a cue card. I pray the state of Florida gives her the maximum penalty available by law, and that hell is even worse than her nightmares.

I also pray that the citizens of Florida don't buy the bull$hit insanity case that she's more than likely going to start screaming once the remains that were found today come back conclusive.

Merry Christmas Casey Anthony. I hope they release you into general population soon. You deserve it!

Pure Talent...

This guy gives new meaning to, "Don't sweat the small stuff."

Magical Quote; "I'm trying to teach the world that 'nothing' doesn't exist."

I met Santa Claus...

I had a check that I really, really needed to turn into cash. I bank with USAA, and do not (nor have I ever) had a single credit card..even with them. This is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it keeps me out of debt. A curse because it can take up to 3 weeks from the date I mail a check to them before it shows up in my account. Usually not a problem. Yesterday? Big Problem. But, I digress... By the time my friend was able to get off work and drive the half hour it takes to get to my house, our options were fairly limited. I was also dealing with a 2 party check and only had a copy of the 2nd persons ID to prove the validity so I kinda figured I was going to be SOL.

After being shot down twice, my friend said he knew of a place in Ft. Worth that was still open so we took off. (Mind you, my children were also grumbling in the backseat and demanding McDonalds as though they owned me!) Over an hour and a half after we originally left the house, we finally pulled up to a gas station. And, I'm looking at my friend like he's gone twice baked potato on me. Because really? A gas station?

We went inside and it's dingy. And, dirty. And, I wanted to take my babies and run. But, not in that neighborhood! The guy behind the counter barely spoke English, but made it clear that he didn't care about the 2nd party on the check. "Give me Check!"
After looking it over, he told me that he couldn't cash it because it was dated November 11, 2008. And, it's now December. Hu-What? I, of course, started explaining to him that the check had to first reach one destination, be signed by party #1 then mailed to me, where I've had to wait for an opportunity to leave the house and get it cashed. I was interrupted by my friend, (who I've known for 8 years and thought I knew all of his friends, and their friends, and blah blah blah) He told the guy behind the counter, "Ricky said to cash that check." To which counter guy straightened up, blinked, and said "You verify that?" My friend pulled out his cell phone and called 'Ricky' who talked to counter guy briefly before hanging up. My check was cashed with no more questions, while my friend took the kiddos back to his truck.

Afterwards, instead of driving back towards the highway, we pulled into a landscaping parking lot where there was another truck waiting. With 'Ricky' inside.
I said my (still bewildered) Thank You's. But I swear, that wasn't Ricky. It was Santa Claus. He had the beard and everything.
I didn't find out until we were already headed back to my house, Santa had co-signed my check! I've never met this man, but he told the guy behind the counter to cash my check, and he'd cover any problems if they arose. (I'm assuming I'm not the first person he's done this for, as the guy behind the counter didn't hesitate once he got the go-ahead.)

So. Yep. Santa saved my a$$. The real deal, and you can't convince me any differently. Straight jackets be damned, I'll be waiting on the roof with cookies and hot cocoa this year!~

Random...

So, no pictures. The spare camera is still in hiding. But we made it to the church today, and even though there was no-one there we left our box of goodies on the pulpit with a note. We decided to sign it "Santa Claus"...even though I felt a tad bit guilty for doing so in a church. Please don't ask me why. I don't have an answer!

The kids were more excited about leaving it anonymously than the fact that someone else would benefit...but that's the point right? To teach them to give without reason, without needing additional recognition. As usual, they make me so proud. Someone mentioned to me today that they heard a crazy woman on the train muttering to herself. At one point she said, "children are what keep single parents going in life..." and the woman in hearing distance suddenly thought that maybe she wasn't quite so crazy after all.. Truer words have never been spoken. I don't think my friend knew quite how much that statement hit me, or how much I cherish those words..but I'll never forget them. (Thank you!)

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

I've had a client sitting on the fence for quite some time now. I try not to pressure people, because that's not my style...but I put the squeeze on today. I basically lied my ass off and said that I only have time for ONE more client, and have someone else that wants to sign with me. He bit. Thank You God.
So, I want to apologize to my newest client. I'm sorry I lied to you. Don't ever read my blog. And don't ever tell a single woman with kids, "Well, I've never done this before, so you could charge me triple and I wouldn't know the difference."
Be very happy that I am in a giving mood this holiday season and didn't decide to rip you off for being an ignorant fool who didn't do his homework. It's web design. Not brain surgery. Now, get that check in the mail. PRONTO!!!

Yesterday, I was crying into my pillow because I felt like the worlds biggest failure. Today, I've made up half of what the jackass stole from me on top of paying The Bills. (FYI...pawn shops are nasty. Just nasty.) We're out of the woods. And even though life isn't as rosy as it looked a week ago, it's going to pan out.
My kids have no idea that there was a hiccup in our little world, and that makes this whole experience a win! I don't mean to brag...but I'm SUPERMOM today!!

Never gonna keep me down!

This post deserves a soundtrack:

Today started off with the stuff nightmares are made out of. At least for someone who's sole responsibility in life it is to protect and cherish 3 other beings.
I 'saw the light'.... and cried for way too long with my face shoved into a pillow and the door closed. Oh, the looks on my poor dogs faces...

I'm not a pansy though. I'm not a shrinking violet, or a wallflower, or a doormat.
I'm not your bitch! (Sorry Madonna...it's my line now.)
I will come out on top. Again.

The most importing thing is bills, and after taking a good hard look around, I think I've got that figured out. Take THAT,you bastard covered bastard with bastard filling! ;-)
I'd say some smart a$$ comment like, "Next time, try harder!" But, I'm afraid that's askin' for trouble!

Christmas for me is about the happiness that comes from families all being together and going crazy. The look on my nieces & nephews faces as they open their gifts, the crowd, the food, the music...but most of all, it's about the memory we create.
I want my children to have wonderful memories of every Christmas of their lives. Am I pissed that I won't be able to buy them the bad ass gifts I'd planned? Yep. But, I'm not going to allow this unfortunate soul to ruin the time of year where I thrive the most.

We don't need extra money to make a beautiful Christmas memory that my kiddos will cherish forever. All we need is a kitchen, a kind heart, and a walk to the Church behind our house. We've been cooking all afternoon. So far we've made a crapload of fudge, a dozen of the most amazing muffins ever, and cinnamon hard candy. I'm going to keep at it until they get home from school tomorrow and we're going to take baskets to the pastor of the Church. I'm sure there are a few more people in his congregation that he can think of who could use some deliciousness, and no one died last time. (So far as I know!)

While we were waiting for the candy to boil, my oldest and I talked about how difficult things are right now ~ for everybody. She told me about kids at school who still aren't wearing coats, because they have none, and how her friend's Mom just took off and left Dad alone with 5 kids. (I've met them, I had no idea...)
The entire time we worked she talked about her concern for things that shouldn't matter to a 10 year old, and it made me so proud. She sees it too, and she doesn't want to sit around and wait for someone else to fix it. She wants to DO something. I love her so much! She and her brother decided to clean out their closets of things that no longer fit, or they don't need. (We live in TX now...surely we can get rid of half of the 4,374 coats we've got lying around) I won the task of sorting and making sure we don't send any of the less gently used things out.

So again, Screw you Sergio. I've got this situation under control. You knocked me down ~ and it sucked! But you forgot, I'm a Mama. We don't have the option of staying down. We will always find the silver lining, because we have to. And there are little people watching our every move, who do exactly as we do.

Tomorrow, I am going to tear my house apart to find that extra camera. It has to be here somewhere... When we make our trek to the church, I plan to take tons of pictures of the kids dragging their loot to give, and later I'll put together a photo album for the them. When they think back to this Christmas, they'll remember how much fun we're having baking and talking to each other. And, how good it felt to do something for someone else. What they won't remember is Mommy being stressed out and panicked over something that is out of my control.

And, I love you my bloggy friends. The comments and emails I received today were at the same time uplifting, saucy, and hilarious. You guys helped jumpstart my ass out of pity-party mode, and back into gear. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!

An open letter to my X

(I am officially screwed. There goes Christmas. Shit. There goes, EVERYTHING. Without getting too into detail, suffice it to say that the X has struck again. A click of his mouse, and $1500 gone from my world. There's another $1000 floating around that I may or may not eventually receive also.)

Sergio,

Have you completely lost your fucking mind? Have you finally eaten enough pills and swallowed enough booze that your last brain cell fled into the herpes infested night? You are a pathetic moron, and it is my deepest hope that one day you wake up and find the world has left you in a puddle of your own feces and vomit.

I was on track. Doing SO well, and finally proud of myself for being a GOOD single Mom, for not being one of those women who rely on the knight in shining armor to come in and save me. Then you took it all away. Why? What happened? How did you go from wanting to fix our marriage to financially destroying the Mother of your child without so much as an email exchanged between us?

This has been harder than I ever expected. Moving into a home as the only provider for my children, setting us up in this town where we're strangers, being alone every day because my kids come first...and I've fought every step of the way to keep good food on the table, shampoo & soap in the bathrooms, and shoes on my babies feet. There have been days where I've wanted to give up. Just wanted it all to go away because I didn't feel strong enough to face the next mountain, but damn you...I DID IT. Half the time with no car, and 3/4 without a phone. What have you gone without???

Every time I have managed to speak to you, you're coming back from Best Buy, Hatch Cover, Chili's, Rick & Amy's. I haven't once complained. Or called you out for being a selfish son of a bitch. But this takes the cake. You have stolen from my children. Your OWN daughter. And you didn't just screw up Christmas this time.. This time you've screwed it all. It wasn't just money Sergio. It was our LIFE. Our rent, bills, and yes, our Christmas also.

I'm done. I can't even think anymore to write. I think my mind may be taking an unauthorized vacation.

Can you help someone in your community?

This is a really neat website geared towards directing people who WANT to help, towards those who NEED the help.
I'm really going insane because my kitty is still missing, so I'm not going to write a poignant post which will made you froth over with desire to get off your duff & get out there in your neighborhood and FIND someone to help.
What I am going to say is, 'Tis the Season'...If we can't find it in our hearts right now to give a little of ourselves to someone more down on their luck that we are..then all hope is lost.
Now, I'm going to go bury myself in the kitchen. Banana bread, fudge, & cinnamon candy will help me pass the time until Tigie decides to grace my world with his presence again. And, yes..I'm making this crap to give to someone. There is a church behind my house, and I'm hoping the pastor will help me get it to a soup kitchen somewhere. Don't laugh. Homeless people like cinnamon candy too.

Bettie Page

The Notorious Bettie Page. Do you know who she is? Do you know that she has suffered with mental illness her entire life? In her late 50's she was jailed for stabbing her roommate (and 2 other people at an earlier date) while claiming that God told her to do so. Although, with the changes in paparazzi, news, & publications, that little fact is much lesser known by the general public, and came to light after so many had forgotten her already.

Bettie Page (or Betty Page as she was legally known)changed the world of pin-up models. She was the first S&M model, and as such gained the attention of the government. After a ban on such prints, most photos of Bettie during that time were destroyed.

Sometime yesterday, I believe, Ms. Page slipped into a coma. Her time here is almost over, and yet her story is still unknown. "The Real Bettie Page: The Truth about the Queen of Pinups" is an unauthorized account of Bettie's life. Though, more truthful (most believe) than the ones she did approve. It is a dark story, told almost in a way that makes you want to dislike the woman.

How many women go through life with mental illness and nothing is done? Either because they are afraid to speak about their feelings, or because they are unaware that the things they feel aren't normal. Bettie Page was flocked by minders who claimed to have her best interests at heart, yet she was still able to stab a woman 40 times because, 'God told her to'.

That was 40 years ago. Mental illness was much lesser known. And, there was a much larger stigma attached to it. That stigma is still there, and it's our fault.
Every time we look at someone and dismiss them as a nut, or a whackjob, or a loon...we are widening the gap. Every woman that hears the words, "You're Crazy!" while she's reeling from emotions even she can't understand, is broken a little bit more. We just took away another chance to help her.

Talk to the people around you. Do you have a friend that you think is dealing with something a little deeper than the usual crap life throws at us? Remind her that your phone works 24/7, Show up at her doorstep with a couple starbucks & a deck of cards, send her an email that doesn't include the header, "FWD". But most of all, simply show her that you have a shoulder for her to cry on and when she says she needs help..Do Something. Don't give up if she does, and she may, hiding and denial are part of the disease. Fight for your friend. You may be the only one doing so.

I need your good thoughts...

My kitty is missing. I know, to some, it seems silly to get so upset over an animal. He's a part of my heart though, and it's been a rough couple of days without him.
So please, put some of your good wishes in a bubble and send them our way.
And, to my Tigie;

I know how much you love the cold baby boy, but Mommy loves you. So, come home and eat. Then you can go play again.

Love,
Your crying human

Buried...

I'm sorry. I seem to have lost my mind. Have you seen it? My sanity maybe? No? OK...well, do you think I could borrow yours?
Thanksgiving is over, Christmas is looming, I've got projects piling up left and right that I either don't want to deal with, or I can't deal with, or I'm waiting for the proper go-ahead to deal with..I'd really enjoy putting a match to the thing but I'm afraid I'd set the state on fire. It's that much crap.

Kids have school pageants that require costumes. (Here's an idea..Tell me at HALLOWEEN that my child is going to be a stuffed animal in the play! His teacher hates me.) Turkey #1 needs to be an elf. And, she's like OCD or some shit. She expects perfection. I expect miracles. Somehow, it's going to even out.

I also have a secret project that I've been covertly working on (since last Christmas) that is finally coming to the results stage. Those freakin' results require me to buckle down and do the work, and it's not easy work. I'm immersing myself in my own personal hell all for the sake of what? I'm not sure yet. Maybe nothing. Haha.

I miss you all. I promise I'm slogging through though. If I don't get some of this crap done, the bills won't be paid. The kids refuse to get jobs so I guess it's up to me. Dammit.

Anyway, if you don't hear from me before 2009 please contact the authorities. There's a good chance I'm buried under piles of paperwork, laundry, sewing projects, & notebooks. It might require the jaws of life.

PS. Candy Cane Oreo's are the cure to all that is bad in life. I just had one, and my world is now perfection. Now, I'm going to have 24 more.

I don't know, but I've been told....

Have you ever had a nightmare that you just can't shake? Or woken up terrified yet, couldn't remember what had scared you so badly? How about a funny dream that kept a smile on your face throughout the day? Or just one that you can't stop thinking of because it was, freakin' weird man.

During my first pregnancy, I developed what I call "Sleep Tuerettes." I would yell things...loudly, that probably shouldn't have been mentioned. Like the time we were at my Grandparents house for a family get-together, and I screamed "Mama!! Shut the F*** UP!!" in the middle of the night. (My Grandmother is a very serious quilter, so there are about 8 full size beds in a huge room, with about 12 of us all bunked down together. So much more humiliating than it sounds at first!)

When I was 19 or 20, I started writing my dreams down. I keep a notebook and pen beside the bed that I use for all sorts of junk. Usually, it ends up being a make-shift To-Do & Grocery List as I tend to remember crucial details just as I'm slipping off to dreamland...but there are times that it's true purpose shines through and I write something important.

This morning, I grabbed the notebook on my way to the kitchen and tossed it on the counter while I got things ready for the Turkeys to wake up. After they'd settled in to eat breakfast, I brought my coffee in to check email and try and wake up a bit more. Not even 5 minutes go by before my oldest comes to me with tears in her eyes. She'd rolled the notebook up and was squeezing it tight in her hands, and frankly, she looked like she wanted to swat me with it.

I asked her what was wrong, and she sputtered, "I..I'm sorry Mommy. Puh Puh-leeeeeze don'tmakemegoto booooooooot caaaaaaaamp!!!!!"
And, it hit me. In my dream, my daughter joined the Army. I woke up and wrote out a list of items I needed to pick up from the store. Underlined, at the top of the page, with stars on each side (my go-to for super important things) were the words, "Alyssa needs for Boot Camp."

Yep. Where's that shrink? Go ahead and sign us up, sir.
What kinds of dreams do you have, and have you ever managed to scar your children with them?

Home Alarm System

If I had to pick my least favorite part of being a single Mom it would have to be the nights. They are looooong, and dark. They are creepy in way's you can only imagine, and I assure you...my imagination runs rampant. I start jumping whenever one of the animals walks across the wood floor, the sound of a car door is a sign that someone is coming to mutilate my family and leave our bodies to be discovered by the oldest Turkey's friends. The ringing phone is a prank caller who's actually standing outside my window laughing at the stench of my fear.

It's really pathetic. I truly have nothing to be afraid of. Vigilant, yes ~ always. But, to be outright afraid is another thing entirely. I'm a smart woman. I pay attention, and should know better than to vibrate with fear each night. Our house sits on the corner and is 'faced' with another home, or a church on every side. Most would be break-in artists prefer to avoid such obvious targets. I'm also the proud owner of two dogs. Much like weapons, each has his own important purpose.



This is Simon. He is a miniature dobie. Most people know them as min-pins. Simon is the only animal I have ever bought myself. The little buggers truly believe they are the size of an adult dobie, and could rip anyone or anything to shreds. His bark is worse than his bite though, and in 7 years he's never bitten a human. Dogs...well, they should just stay away unless they want to be jumped into his gang.

Simon is my alarm. You can't sneeze in this neighborhood without a growl outta him. And, Lord help you if you park in my driveway...this freak will go nuts. He's an old man now, and has no patience for much of anything anymore. Simon prefers sleeping in my sons bed until noon or 1 o'clock..when I finally go in and roust his out for fear that he'll forget that he's potty trained. Can dogs get Alzheimer's?



This is Juju. Juju is my heart protector. It's a well kept secret (before today) that Juju is worthless. People look at him, and they're immediately scared, so he serves his purpose. But, frankly...he couldn't protect a fly from a from a tape roll. Or wouldn't, I guess would be the better word. His only weapon is his vicious tail that'll leave bruises on your thigh, and his wiggle that'll bowl over even the strongest of men. He's a big freakin' baby who just wants to be around, on, touching you at all times.

I do realize he's a pitt bull. I'm sorry if anyone reading this is offended by the breed. I want to add that before I met Juju, I was the same way. I've done exhaustive research regarding Pitt Bulls, and I am satisfied with what I've learned. I believe that with proper care, and proper vet care we'll have no problems.
As it stands...Juju doesn't know he's a breed of any kind. No clue. He's pretty sure he's my 4th child who just happens to have 4 legs. If he ever figures out the truth, I'm sure Simon will put him back in his place. And really damn quick too.

Currently watching....

...this. Over & Over again!



This is great. I love the choreography! The dancer up front & center is WOW! amazing.. If I knew who she was, I'd invite her over for dinner and a show! (Think that'd be rude?)

One small step for Mom....A giant leap for Baby!

My 'baby' turned 2 in August. *ouch* It's been a struggle for me to let go of every step into childhood with her. I nursed until there was literally nothing left, and mourned those lost moments with a heavy heart. The first time she crawled out of my sight, it destroyed me. She can go places without me...waaaaah! Knowing that she's my last baby has forced me to cling desperately to every precious moment in her life. Except for (oh my and how!) potty training. I was ready for that with panties and candy in hand the very second she 'noticed' the toilet!

We're pretty much good to go with it too. She wears diapers to sleep at night, and that's about it. We just recently cut them out at naptime and so far, zero accidents! She's super proud of herself, and it helps that her siblings cheer her on. She knows her panties from her sister's, and is very adamant about which ones she chooses to wear. (FYI~she prefers bug's to even *gasp* Dora!) I'm slightly proud of our accomplishment. It's really adorable to be in the grocery store and hear, "PooPoo Dillars! Now! Now! Now!" Seriously, it is.
As is the case with just about every family, we have our own language for potty training. I enjoy antagonizing her Father, so her Poo is "Stinky Steelers". He didn't quite find it as amusing as I do, but hey...he who does the work, signs the art, right?

Anyhow, this morning Beena got up and tossed her diaper in the trash (ya, I'm lying...she threw it on the bathroom floor. We're not into formalities..) and we went about our day. A while later I heard her in the bathroom saying, "Gewhoa! Gewhoa! Gewhoa!" so I went to investigate, and she'd done her business, and was saying her goodbyes as some small children are wont to do. We cleaned up, and I didn't really think anything else of it.
Until she sat down at the computer to watch a DVD of Diego while I got dressed & whatnot. See. Man. I don't even know if I can describe this correctly, but I'm going to try, cause dang it ~ I haven't stopped laughing in half an hour.

OK, so Diego & his little buddy the Iguana need to get the seeds from the strawberry plants to the town so they can be planted in time for the towns Fiesta. So, the Iguana eats the seeds. They go through a forest, across a pond, around some lily pads...you know the drill. Right before they get to the town the Iguana says to Diego, "Diego, I can't hold the seeds much longer, we need to HURRY!!!!! I have to Gooooooo!" And, Diego jumps on a vine, swings across some alligators and drops the Iguana in a garden where the rows are just waiting for the little green dude to come along, and ~yep, you guessed it~ Poo the strawberry seeds into the ground for planting. Then Diego and his cousin & uncle stand around the field and chant, "GROW! GROW! GROW!" At which time, Beena jumps up and screams, "Gewhoa! Gewhoa! Gewhoa!"

I'm not sure how to explain to her that strawberries won't be shooting out of our septic tank anytime soon. I think this is going to be traumatizing for her. It certainly has been to me!

Circus Freak!

Blogger gave me hell today, so the trax are on the round player up there there. See it? On the right? Pink & Gray? Yep, that one. Now listen. Unless you're at work. Then too bad for you. :-D

Do not attempt to hold an intervention. I will run. Take my ipods and hide in a faraway mountain with a generator to keep me boppin' to my tunes.
I cannot help it. If you could close your eyes and see what I see when I hear certain songs, you'd totally understand. It's worse than a drug...cause it's legal. And, I can drive and dance at the same time without getting a ticket. Major oversight in the "Protect & Serve" clause there Ossifers. Write your congressman. Or woman.

Anyway, so...Circus leaked. What do you mean, "Circus??"
Duck. I'm throwing things.
If you've been unkind enough to not pay attention to my most guilty obsession, Britney Spears (ahem, get your mouse away from that X RIGHT NOW!) has been promoting the release of her new album. 'Circus'...supposedly out on December 2. But, I'm so cool, I got an un-released copy it leaked online.

To the Jerk who leaked it; BAD BAD person. You are BAD. (Now, come get your cookie!)
And, Oh Em Gee!! It's really great. 'If U Seek Amy' & 'Circus' are definite chart toppers (when they come out). Mannequin is an amazing dance track, and one of those I close my eyes and choreograph the most awesome performances ever. *Pure Bliss*
'My Baby' (written about her sons) will turn you into a big cry-baby sissy poo, and 'Unusual You' is sweet and catchy.
'Mmm Papi' is getting alot of heat because of the guy she supposedly wrote it about, but I like it. I think it's catchy and fun, and frankly if he were that bad for her, Papa Spears wouldn't have allowed the song to be on the album.
Phonography is A-DOR-ABLE. Seriously, her cutest song ever. Listen for is as everyones ringtone in the coming months.

I've got to say, I'm satisfied, and you should be too. After all, it could be worse. I could be blogging that Michael Jackson just released his 'Bedtime for Babe's' Album, and I bought it for each of your children as a stocking stuffer.
If she takes this album on tour and does some promotion for it, she'll be 'back', and love or hate her, you're going to have to deal with her. With any luck, she'll retire before she has Madonnna's arms. Until then, STFU and let me dance!

P.S. That's not the real album cover art...But, I like it better.

Before Iraq

(Photo of Sergio taken Aug. '06 by SGT Leonard of Bravo Co. 1/68 ~ Baquabah, Iraq)

I don't think it comes as any surprise that I love my husband. States & Separation be damned. I married him because he was everything I'd ever wanted and then some. Because his idea of a first date was carving pumpkins with my Turkeys and ordering pizza so we could all watch movies together cuddled up on blankets on the floor. Because he shared the values I based raising my children upon. And, because every time he knocked on my front door, I was deliriously happy.

The day he left for Iraq, he had to be at his duty station at 5 am. We woke up the Turkeys and bundled them in the van. It was winter and everything was gray & gloomy out. I remember sitting in the dark van waiting on his soldiers to show up before he left and thinking that these would be our last moments together for 12 long months.
What do you say in those moments? He wasn't leaving for college, or going on a long trip. He was going to Iraq. To war. To kill or be killed. I told him that I loved him, and that I would be praying for him every moment. And then, I cried. He left and I sat there and cried. Deep, crushing sobs that woke up my babies and had them climbing into the front seat to comfort me.

The next several hours are a blur. My girl had school, so off she went. My Jen-nay showed up with 2 pictures she'd taken of Sergio with a cell phone and framed for me. We sat on the floor in my bedroom and she told me how he'd pulled her aside a few days prior and told her that he was worried about how I was going to take him being in Iraq. He was worried about me.

When my phone rang at around 10 am that morning, I never expected to hear his voice asking me to get to post As Soon As Possible with.......his keys.
Yep. You can send the boy to war, but you can't make him tie his shoes!
Off I went, happily jingling his keys and for once, glad that he was as forgetful as a 4 year old. Ft. Carson was a zoo that day. Women and children were everywhere in every state of sobbing, and consoling you can think of. It was madness, and Sergio and I found a quiet corner to sit in until he was told to get on the bus that would take them to Petersen AFB where they would board the flight that would fly to Kuwait.
I have no idea what we talked about that day. I remember the feel of his ACU's against my face, and the way they smelled. (Never good..no matter how much fabric softener you stuff in the pockets) I remember being interrupted by nervous looking soldiers and thinking, "He's just a little boy. Surely his Mama's not letting him really go to Iraq. There's a friggin' WAR over there!" And being asked by every other person we saw to, "Please take one last picture of our family."

There was a woman with a small baby who also stayed off to the side by herself. I remember wanting to talk to her..she looked as lost as I felt. And determined not to cry, but I saw her hands shaking when she took their baby from her husband right before he walked away. I saw her stare at the ground determinately and then raise her clear eyes to her husband for one last wave before she turned and hurried from the building. It took every ounce of energy I had, not to run after that woman and hug her. I wanted to tell her that she was just as brave as he is. Letting her soul walk away had to be the hardest moment of her life, and that she is a wonderful woman for holding her composure. For making sure that the last image her husband had of her was one of a smiling, strong face. He could get on that plane knowing that his wife and little baby would make it through the next few months because of her. I still think of her...of them to this day.

After the boys were really gone, I went home and collapsed on my bed. I didn't cry again though. Seeing all the families that were torn apart that day made me realize how fortunate I was to be in the position I was in when he left. We weren't married yet, and I'd already been living alone and was a single parent. The only thing that really changed after he left were the empty nights. My children missed him, but he wasn't their Father and it wasn't a life-style change for him to be gone.
Little did I know...Nine days later, every bit of that would change...

I am...

I'm a little bit obsessed with my music. For every moment in life, I can name the soundtrack that relates. I love music videos with a passion, and have logged hours on youtube searching for the one that'll make me feel it. One of my least favorite questions is, "What kind of music do you like?" What a broad question. Do you really have 3 or 4 hours to discuss this? I love music. Period. My favorites range from Parkway Drive to David Gray. Beyonce, Britney, Jenny Owen Youngs, Katy Perry, Madonna (back in the 80's where she belonged). I do prefer female artists. I think they're better actresses and can switch it up a whole lot easier than say, Eminem or Fallout Boy could. I like today's music. Don't get me wrong, my itunes is full of classics from Johnny Cash to Ozzy, but I love the anticipation of waiting for a favorite artist's new album to drop. I love the the interviewing process where the artist is inevitably asked his/her inspiration behind the album, seeing how they were made, the entire process from selecting the music to go with the lyrics, to auditioning performers for videos, and watching the numbers rise or fall on billboard lists.

Last night, I got my hands on Beyonce's new album. It's called, 'I am...Sasha Fierce'. You may (or maybe not) have heard the first 2 singles. If I were a boy, and Single Ladies (Put a ring on it). Apparently, it's getting excellent press reviews and those two singles are damn good. But, those two singles are about the only good things on the album. There are two discs with 5 or 6 songs on each. One is titled 'I am'... and the other is 'Sasha Fierce'. Symbolizing the real Beyonce vs. Sasha Fierce, her superstar alter ego. 'I am' is mainly love ballads sang in Beyonce's strong, beautiful voice. But, they bore me and I couldn't sit through any of them in entirety after 'If I were a boy'. (Which is lovely. Slow, strong lyrics, and Beyonce's voice is perfect for the tune.) This is the side she wants her fans to see as the 'real' Beyonce. 'Sasha Fierce' is too raunchy. I do love 'Single Ladies (Put a ring on it)' but after that I just kinda felt dirty listening to 'Diva', and 'Radio'. It's one thing to put yourself in your music...something else entirely to put yourself on a throne and crow about how fabulous you think you are. That is, very simply, annoying.

I loved her last album, 'B-day'. So, it really took me by surprise that this one $ucks as much as it does. And, since I need the space on my ipods (yes..I have 3. They're all full) I'm going to delete all but the first song on each disc. Sorry Queen B. You'll do better next time! A little less ghetto fab & a little more Ring the Alarm...M'kay?

My Boyfriend

I took this picture about halfway up Pikes Peak mountain right after one of the switchbacks, which was super stupid seeing as I could have been hit by a car barreling down the mountain, but totally & completely worth it!

Today was cloudy and overcast. There was a bite to the air that can only be explained by the damn humidity in Texas. I'm saddened to say that my first thought looking out the window this morning was, 'It's gonna Snow!!!!!" Then it hit me. No snow. Not here. Not real snow. Not ever.
I miss it. I miss my mountains. All summer, I could pretend that this was just a side-trip. But, we're coming up on Thanksgiving and my kids haven't even worn jackets to school yet. Days like this in the Springs meant one thing. Snow. Whether it was a few inches or half a blizzard. The overcast sky rarely meant rain this time of year. If the mountains were 'invisible' you could bet money & win every time.

When I was 18 a couple friends and I decided to move to Panama City Beach, Fl. We made our move right around Spring break, and entered into a party atmosphere the likes of which I've never experienced since.
We lived in a beach house on a street called Front Beach Road. If you've ever been to PCB, you know that Front Beach is the main through way to all the hottest clubs. It was like watching a parade each night, and we'd sit on our balcony and hoot & holler at all the cute guys driving by. I worked at a shop called "Purple Haze" which was also right across the street from the beach. Lunch breaks were spent tanning and work meant flirting with tourists.
A single 18 year old living on the beach with her two best friends, working at one of the coolest stores in town, and partying all night with amazing people...I hated it.

Don't get me wrong, it was an experience I'll never forget and memories were made that I'll cherish forever. But, I'm a mountain girl at heart. Hot weather, and humidity drive me to distraction. As much as I loved my time spent in Florida (2 other loooooooooong vacations since then) to me, the ocean will never compare to a mountain. The view from the top of Pikes Peak, the smells driving through Pike Nat'l Forest, the way you can stand in 2 feet of snow and not feel a chill as long as the sun is shining...

And then, there are the people. Texans are friendly, yes. But DF-Dub is full of pretentious a$$holes, and I happen to look like one of them. People are intimidated by me, and consequently don't make the move to come talk to me. They mistake being shy for being stuck-up. (And, I'm probably guilty of doing the same to them)
Colorado is full of hippies. It's rare to see a woman dressed to the nines at the grocery store, and inhibitions be damned. People talk to you out there. For no reason. Maybe it was the military town, the people who understand Carpe Diem. You may not have another chance to meet that person, she may be gone next week. Either introduce yourself and make a lifelong friend, or watch her husband get transferred to Alaska and kiss that chance good-bye.

I've lived in Texas for the majority of my life. I've traveled a lot, and moved around as much as possible for someone raising children. But, my heart has been in Colorado since I first vacationed there at 23. From the first moment I laid eyes on Cheyenne Mtn, and Pikes Peak right next(ish) to it, I knew that that was where I wanted to call 'home'. At the time, I was working for a law firm in Dallas. They were paying me way too much money, so I eventually packed up ship and moved to the mountains that had been calling my name for a year. I never regretted it.

When I told my Mother that I was leaving my husband, and therefore would be moving back to Texas, her first concern was; "I'm afraid you'll miss the mountains too much and cause even more misery for yourself"
And, I do. Not to the point that I'm miserable, because they surely will be there when I go back. That's the beauty of being in love with a mountain rather than a man. Pikes Peak will never leave. He will always be standing in the last place I saw him. He may be wearing a green sweater, or a brown one, or a white one...but he'll be there. Standing tall in all his glory, welcoming me back to the Springs.

Performance Junkie II

This made me laugh out loud a few times. P!nk always puts on a great performance, in my most humble opinion. She seems to have lost her 'Give a Damn' a long time ago, and uses that lack of inhibition to put her true feelings out there in a way that makes you think she's a heckofa lot tougher than I bet she really is.
Really, haven't we all wanted to pop someones 'Just Married' balloon at least once? Don't be shy. You can tell me...I won't hold it against you. In fact, I'll make a batch of margaritas and hire a driver so we can go Chapel Huntin'!

My Boy

This is my baby boy. Tomorrow marks 8 years of my heart literally, outside my body and walking around of it's own accord. Dangerous stuff, this freedom we (as Mothers) are required to allow our own organs.

He'll be 8. To him, that's an entire lifetime. Ages & Ages. While to me, it's nothing. I just found out I was pregnant with him. Remember? No? Hmmm. Well, it felt like it was just a moment ago.
When he was born, my first baby was still a baby. I thought I had it under control. Looking back, I realize just how difficult those first years were. Their Father, while wonderful now, wasn't around then. He umm. Well, he spent some time in prison. And, while he's changed his life (for the most part)and is wonderful now...back in 2000, I was a 21 year old single Mother of 2. I worked nights at a bar so that I was with my children during the day and their Grandparents could watch them while I wasn't there. I'd pick them up at 3 or 4 AM and take them home where we'd all get in my bed and snuggle till cartoons were over around 10.
Like I said, totally under control. That is, until I got pregnant with Turkey #3 and realized that I have very little memory of Turkey #2's pregnancy, infancy, or toddler hood. I don't remember his first steps. I don't remember how long I breastfed him for sure, (only that I stopped after a month or two because he was lactose intolerant and I have weight issues that require massive amounts of dairy.) I don't remember his first words, or the first time he said "Mama."
Chalk it up to pure exhaustion.

There's no doubt that I love that little guy more than life itself. He's an easy kid. He's a great kid. He's also a bit of a genius.
Because we've moved around so much in the past year, I'm not sure what level he's actually reading at right now, (still waiting on testing results from the beginning of the school year...C'mon Folks!) but at the end of last year he was at the highest reading level for the military elementary school they attended. He's scoring 100's on Turkey #1's math tests (online tutoring, the tests can be taken as many times as we want) She's in 4th grade, and we've never taught multiplication to him. I explained the concept to him, and he gets it. Last week he was taking a division test, and missed 2 out of 30 questions. He, very matter of fact, told me that the test was wrong, that the right answer wasn't a choice and that's why he'd had to pick the closest. To be honest, I figured he'd gotten the answers wrong and didn't want to admit it, but we checked anyway. (OK, the calculator on my computer checked. Hmph!)
He was right. Here's the kicker. He's in 2nd grade. They haven't done division. He only took the test to see if he could figure it out. Granted, we're not talking long complicated division here. Easy stuff such as 36 divided by 6, but still. What the hell? So, like I said, the kid is a genius.

No matter what happens, I have my kids. On the bad days, when I'm afraid that I can't deal with life's punches anymore...they're there to remind me to suck it up. I'm very fortunate to have kids that rock. That don't cause trouble, talk back, or set the house on fire.
So ya. Tomorrow the boy turns 8. He wants pizza and a yogurt marmalade cake.

And, you can bet your bottom dollar he's gonna get it.

Excuse me, Mr. President...

I've played with the desire to write about the election for the last week. I didn't want to because (as proven by the results) my views run the minority, and I'd rather not cause conflict if I don't have to.

All I'm going to say is that I am disappointed.
Fundamentally, I do not agree with many of Barack Obama's platforms. But, I am an American. I support our country, and the people have spoken.

I am angry that military personnel stationed overseas were unable to vote because they didn't receive their ballots in time. It seems to me, those were some pretty important votes and regardless of the landslide they mattered. Someone made a huge mistake that better damn well be fixed in 2012.

That being said, prove me wrong President Obama.

This is what I'm talkin' about!

Loooooooooove This! The vocals are SO much better than this. Enjoy! You didn't hear this from me. ;-)

Tiger-Jac

This is Tiger-Jac. Beena's got him in a choke hold because...well, because she's evil. Don't try and make me feel better about it either. I've come to terms and I'm sure it's a phase she'll eventually grow out of. Either that, or she'll channel her energy into becoming the next Stephen King.
Focus! This is about the cat. Do not allow her cute-ness to deter you from my original thought. Which was...was...$hit.

Oh ya, the Cat. Tiger-Jac. Tiger came into our lives by way of my Jen-nay. He was/is her baby. But, I stole him. He's freakin' cool man. Okay, I didn't steal him. Jen had life to deal with and needed a place for him to stay for a while. I hadn't had a cat since my beloved Gypsy jumped off the balcony to go get laid and never came back, so it was a nice change of pace. Then I fell for him, and refused to give him back. (Sorry Jen. I love you lady!) Oh man. This cat is somethin'! He knows. He cuddles when I need to be cuddled, leaves me alone when I need to be left alone, and he doesn't use a litter box! See, he knows how much work I already have to do, so he uses the bathroom outside like a good boy.

As previously mentioned, Beena is evil! Without fail, at least once a day, she grabs Tiger-Jac around the neck and drags him to whatever her destination may be. Most cats would claw the heck out of my precious demon, but Tiger just looks at me with a plaintive look on his face and meows sorrowfully to express his desire for release. His reward for having the patience of a saint?
Plastic milk tops. Yep. I wish everything in life were that simple.

Rants & Raves

Last night, my Jagerbomb(s) gave me a case of insomnia, so I cruised on over to Craigslist to read the Rants & Raves pages. Below is a 'conversation' I had with an atheist.
Before you read in entirety, please understand that, as a rule, I keep my religion to myself and my home & lifestyle. I have a hard time understanding people who don't believe, yet condemn those of us that do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Original Rant)
I can see why you would believe in a god that doesn't exist but there are people with high IQ's who believe in this story while they have no merit to do so. It is a book people that was written by people who could tell a good story and want to put fear into those who don't believe. Take a look at how much your churches make. They get you to give 10% of your hard earned money and teach you that if you don't live by their rules that you won't make it to "heavens gate". It is the biggest and oldest scam of all time.

Prove to me your god exists with factual proof. You can't. I don't want to hear about faith or stories that you heard, prove it to me. Do you have a picture of him/her? Do you have video? When has he showed up? You have people who are so poor and barely get by and do no wrong, but they pray to god and nothing changes. They die of starvation, they die because they were out in the cold with no shelter, they die because they were murdered for no reason.

Oh, where is your god when this happens?

You are so damn blind, it is pathetic. Believe in yourself and the ones who care about you. There is no god and never has been. Prove it to me. Do you have a mind that uses a thought process. If you did, you would know there is no god.

Why is he so absent for thousands of years? Go ahead and write some verse from the bible. I can write a line from a Stephen King or Bill Maher book, does that make it real?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(My Response)
Why are you so angry at people who do believe in God? What harm does my faith cause you?

I feel sorry for you that you don't understand the peace that Christianity brings me, but I don't condemn you for being an Atheist.
I don't ask you for money when my bank account runs low. I don't cry on your shoulder when a tragedy strikes my family. I don't ask you to bless my food before I serve it to my children...so what's your problem with the Man that I do lean on?

I watch my babies run through our yard and I thank God for giving me the strength to be a single Mother. I prepare our food, and I thank God for the resources available to me. I sleep peacefully at night with the knowledge that whatever the future may bring, I'm capable in God's hands.

Please. If this is a problem for you, aware me of the details. Am I physically hurting you when I hold my children's hands and pray with them? Have the items we donated to the food pantry in the Lord's name given you food poisoning? Are the values we teach our Christian children causing your Atheist children to consider *gasp* GOING TO CHURCH instead of to the local skate & smoke park?

If so, please forgive me. You see, I would never offend you on purpose. I AM a Christian after all.

Another Bombshell.....

Really? I don't get it. Am I a target of some kind?
The X just called. He wants another chance. To ensure that happens, he's moving to DF-Dub.
Isn't there a limit to the amount of morons this state can handle?
OK, I'm just being hateful. But, I don't understand how he thinks he can just force his way back into our lives. He wants to put a halt to the divorce proceedings because, "we're making a huge mistake'.
Ya, so I thought so too. A year ago. When I begged for counseling.

I'm just getting to a point where I'm proud of the things I've accomplished since I left. I'm happy with my life (albeit, it's crazy and half the time I'm rushing too much to know what's really going on)..but it's MY life. I've created, and endured all the good and the bad that comes from this place.

I'm not sure that I'm ready to be in a position where I have to decide whether or not to give up my freedom.

Me. Me. Me. I. I. I. Mine. Mine. Mine.....I sound like one of the kids. Petulant, and angry because a change is coming that I have no control over. Maybe some coffee will make this seem a little less crazy.

Here & Gone

It's over. Emotional Roller Coaster... I'm gonna make a song out of that.

I don't know where or how to start. The X called last Tuesday to say he wasn't going to be able to make it. The Army changed his schedule again, and he didn't have anyone to cover down for him.
Breathe. Sigh. Get upset. Get over it.
Cut to Thursday. My phone rang 4 times while I was conferencing with a client online. Finally answer it. The X wants to know if I'll "be around" later. Cause he's in the car. On the way. Here.
Panic. Breathe. Get annoyed. Get the house clean.
It was strange. Beena didn't know who he was or why he kept trying to hold her and kiss her. She's gone through a stage of calling every male she sees "Daddy"... so it wasn't hard for her to call him by name.

Grrr. I just can't deal with him. He IS an emotional roller coaster. While he was here, it was all about Beena. Heartfelt conversations about how much he's missed out on. How much he's missed her. Then he's gone and..just, gone. No phone calls. No emails.
His attention span is that of a 5 year old child.

The VA is requiring him to be treated for PTSD in order to receive disability for his injury. Thank you VA!!!!!!!!!
It's about time that someone else recognized the need for treatment. I'm a bit infuriated that his wife wasn't listened to during the crash of our marriage. The phone calls to his commanders that went ignored, meetings with chaplains where promises were made that never came to fruition, letters to the FRG, and Post Commander that wasted my time and brain power...
He's also being treated for something else that I'd always thought was Sergio's way of 'getting out of it'...
Apparently, there really is some short term memory loss. I can't tell you how many fights started with, "But, I told you..."
So, on that one I'll say this, "My bad"

We dressed Beena up in her Steelers outfit and bought 4 huge bags of candy in anticipation of the neighborhood hordes showing up. The older Turkeys went to their Dad's where all 4 of them dressed as pirates. (Much as I hate to admit it...they were a cute 'lil pirate family!)
Sergio left at about 8 pm after getting a phone call from the soldier who was covering his shift. Apparently, the guy's wife can't stand S. and wasn't losing her husband on his day off for him. (Ya, I've been there) So, he had to make a mad dash back to Colorado in order to get a few hours sleep before he had to work a 24 hour shift.

And, just like that...it was over. I was left with a baby dressed up for Halloween, and no-one to take her trick or treating. (I have a real problem with an empty house on Halloween night...I feel like I'm disappointing children and it hurts my heart too much to swallow.)
So, Beena and I danced around the living room, played our music waaaaaaaaaaaay too loud, and Mommy had waaaaaaaaay too much (really good) wine.
We didn't get a single trick-or-treater. I guess all the kids in the neighborhood knew that The A's were going to be in Flower Mound and didn't think (?) I'd have candy. We passed out goodie bags when the older Turkey's got home to make up for it, which saved my Mommy Soul.

Last night, my baby boy came into my room about an hour after he'd gone to bed. He was crying gut-wrenching sobs, and told me he wanted to move back to Colorado. He misses his friend, he hates it here.
We talked for a while about what it would mean if we were to move back to CO. We'd lose the friends we'd made here (ok, so I meant them...it's not as though I've really branched out). We wouldn't be as close to his Dad and the weekend visits would come to an end, and his friend (darling Gabriel) is an Army Brat...which means his life in Colorado is tenuous at best. They could be transferred at any moment with no choice but to go where the Army sends them. Just like we were when we were Army Brats.
I moved the wii to his bedroom last night because he wanted to play the new Lego Indiana Jones game, and Turkey #1 wanted to watch election updates (seriously. She's that cool!) and that triggered his memories of hanging out with Gabriel. (The pic is of Gabriel & his sister Jade) Gabe & his family lived next door to us on post. The place where my nightmares came true. I went through hell there and his Mother held me up. Her name was Maritza, and I miss her as much as my boy misses Gabriel.

Life changes and we evolve into adults based on how we react to those changes. My job is to steer my children in the direction that I hope they'll take. I hope the Turkey takes the memory of a wonderful childhood friend, and maybe this is a friendship that can last throughout the years. Maritza and I exchange emails and IM fairly often...without a doubt, it's time to get the boys in on the mix instead of just calling him in when I get a funny picture of G.

And now...its back to the grind. I'm SICK of log...wood...the color brown...google...and hello???? $50 for rights to use an image I can make with photoshop??? Jeez. Guess I'll spend 34 hours glued to that program tonight a$$wipes.

My website is up and running, albeit unfinished. Payge Diana Designs
Comments? Suggestions?

Worst Blogger Ever

I've chosen to not write for the past week. I've thought about it several times, and determined to put it out of my mind until I could sort myself out. Not quite there yet.
I'm not sure what's going on. A separation of mind and belief? I am, for once, caught up on bills. The house is stocked with groceries, and 'stuff'....I even bought myself new glassware & serving bowls for the kitchen. There's cash in my wallet, money in the bank, and more income on the way. The kids are fine. The week with their Dad went well, and I came back to a relatively unscathed home.

The X still has plans to see his daughter on the first of November (has anyone else noticed? That's just a week away!) and is acting strange. Lots of jokey emails, phone calls that last for hours. Last night, he asked to speak to Beena. Never. I've heard him complain about soldiers wives who force the kid on the phone and the soldier is left standing there with no idea of what his child is saying. It was surreal for him to ask, and even more so when I could hear him laughing up a storm at her gibberish.

He wants to take us shopping while he's here to stock up on winter clothes and shoes for her. He wants to put me back on his cell phone plan so that I'll have reliable phone service instead of using a pay as you go phone the way I've done since I left him and he turned off my cell. He's bringing additional money to add to my car fund & is planning on staying in Colorado after he's officially released from duty. (That's a big one...he always wanted to move to the East coast, and I couldn't fathom the idea of being so far away from my family once we were able to choose our location)

If I don't post...it's because I don't know what to write. I feel emotionally challenged right now.
I'm sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me.
It'll get greater later!

I'm a good 'lil worker bee!

I've been so dadgum busy....I've built two websites in the past 4 days.
Oh. My. Freakin'. Eyes.

We finally got home tonight about an hour and a half ago, and I suddenly realized I hadn't posted anything in days. I thought about it...many times. Just couldn't stop tweaking and tuning long enough to get 'er done, if ya know what I mean.

Tomorrow I will (I will! I WiLL!) post pictures and a long lovely blog about my happenings at the folks. Some of it funny, some sad, some downright disgusting. You'll want to eat before you stop by. Unless you're a Mom. Then, you've seen worse.

For now, please enjoy our version of "Redneck River-Rafting" (If you can't tell, we tied a rope around him to pull the girls on their 'boat' and he's standing...not swimming. The dam was open so the water was quite shallow!)

Wait!! Don't go yet!!!! Check this out first, and remember...it's a work in progress, so be nice!
(I've still got to add pictures that I couldn't access from my Mom's house, and change pretty much all of it. My biggest fear was the publishing part as that's the part my old partner used to do. The design is my forte, and now that I've gotten past my fear, I can focus on that) The other website is still waiting on the host...serves me right for not using the same for both....

Got Tagged!

Since, I've been at my Mommy's house, I've been regressing. I suddenly feel the urge to tattle when anyone makes me mad, I'm eating copious amounts of comfort food, sleeping in, ohhhh...I could really get used to this.

In keeping with theme, I've been tagged. And, I didn't even hear anybody say they were "It." That's sort of like cheating isn't it? It is!!! MOMMY!!! It was HER!

Here are the ruley-rule-rules. Don't expect me to follow them to the T, cause I'm in my teenage phase at the moment and am feeling particularly rebellious.

The rules:
1. Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
4. Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

• I'm a nomad. I get really bored after a couple of years in one place and have to move. It makes for an interesting lifestyle at times, but one I've had to tame since I'm now supposed to be all grown up and responsible and $hit.


• For my 23rd birthday my girlfriend and I had matching butterfly's tattooed. Her's is on her neck. Mine is a secret.


• In my fantasy world, one of the gazillion songs I've written is picked up by a major artist, and I only find out when I turn on the radio and hear my words being sung in a heavenly voice. Then, I go home and find a check for a hundred billion dollars in the mailbox. Sweet 'eh?


• I really want some cider donuts today. It's become an affliction, and I can't think of anything else. Thanks for that!


• I'm listening to crickets chirping, birds singing, the wind rushing through the trees, and an occasional splash from trout (I hope) in the river. You're jealous..aren't you?


• I worry too much


• Love, love, loooooooove True Crime stories. I'm obsessing over the Changeling right now. (Though, from what I've read, the movie is highly fictionalized from the 'true' story)

And, that's it. 7. That was a whole lot harder than it actually looked. And, since I'm from a generation of slackers, I'm not going to tag anybody. (really..I just don't think anyone knows who I am and am too afraid of rejection to try.) (Really, who are you kidding? Rejection? Whatevs!) (Really, it's all kinda true. hehehehehehe)

Oh ya, and a shoutout to my homie on the Midland P.D. who welcomed a brand new baby boy into the world on MY birthday. Over eight pounds. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. Next time, might I recommend a little less miracle grow? Oh ya, and get your wife a spa day. NOW! I said, MOVE BOY!!

Nectar for the soul.....

Twenty-Nine

Want that cake. No. I need that cake. Could it possibly taste as wonderful as it looks?
Ahhh...another form of art for me to obsess over. Wonder if I could make that in my kitchen.

I'm at my parent's house. We're safely ensconced in the little bedroom that I've claimed as mine, with my Beena sleeping so peacefully next to me. She doesn't know it, but she's been kissed about a gazillion times since she fell asleep. She's so beautiful.

It's been a crazy day. Between dog fights, lost keys, and an insane amount of coffee...I'm exhausted. My birthday gift from my Mom was a bag with plates, napkins, balloons, streamers, and all the other fun stuff so that I can "throw myself a party." Hey. Don't judge. She asked for (and received) rocks for her birthday. I'm lucky she didn't give me a glass jar full of dirt and tell me to save it for my Great-Grandchildren. (now there's a get rich-later scheme. Collect dirt. Someday, that stuff'll cost more than fuel!)

My brother and I almost immediately got into a heated debate over the election. That lasted right up to the point that I thought he was going to have an aneurysm. Good Times, I tell ya. Good Times.

My parents house isn't very big. My bedroom is caddy-corner to my brothers room and off the hall from the living room. I can hear my Dad watching his Western (Loud! When will someone convince him that he needs hearing aids???) And, my brother listening to music on his computer in his bedroom. My Mom's asleep (because it's late, and she's been up with babies all day) and I feel wonderful. I miss Turkey's #1 & #2...but I know how happy they are with their Dad.

So, here we go. Day 1 of 7. Get ready to be bombarded by everything log homes. Tomorrow, I'm making my Mom take me to the office to check out the computer systems there. I need to know what kind of memory I'm working with and what kinds of changes are going to have to be made before I can sit down and write out a detailed plan of what I'll need to accomplish this week.
I may not have time to write much, but I promise to keep up as best I can. This week will be the hardest. We have to figure out exactly how much work I can do from home and how much time I'll actually have to spend here in Oklahoma.
For the Turkey's...I'm hoping for a 10 to 12 day period once a month. Just me though? 24 days per month oughta cut it. Maybe a few more...

I LOVE MY MOMMY!