Because my husband has the best mother in law ever

Today, since it was Friday my mom thought it would be nice to take my husband and his crew some lunch.

I guess he didn’t think it was too nice. 

His crew sure loved it.  They ate every last one of those hot wings RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS FACE.  

 

(I may or may not have taken the lid off and put it right up to his nose…I’m not admitting or denying anything though)

If this doesn’t make sense to you, read this post first.

I don't see this coming to an end

As I’ve mentioned before Rob and I have this stupid deal going.  Until I reach my goal weight I cannot have anything carbonated and he can not have any food that comes from a drive through.  We both go through periods of hardship but his is the worst when he sees KFC.  This is yesterdays conversation, I don’t forsee an end to this deal unless I magically lose 30 pounds huh?

Rob: Crap.  Just seen a commercial for kfc.  They have pink buckets that money goes to breast cancer.

Shannon: It’s a sign

Rob: I feel I should do my part

Shannon: For sure

Rob: Lol, K. Seriously.  We should do it like once a month type thing? What you think?

Shannon: Ok

Rob: Seriously…When do you want to start

Shannon: I don’t care, as long as the record shows it is because you gave in first

Rob: Oh hellllllllll no. I’m good. Nevermind.

 

This is never going to end is it?  Him and his stupid pride.  To all of my local friends from now on when you come to my house if you could please show up with a bucket of KFC hot wings and eat them right in front of him!

Patty better love those fucking notebooks.

 A few weeks back I went to Target to get myself a couple new notebooks.  I always keep one in my car and one in my purse.  I bought these:

After that I was reading Patty’s blog and she had written a post about “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.” Mark Twain” her notebook, and that she needed a new one.

 

This was her notebook:

I was horrified.  HORRIFIED.  What kind of notebook is that?  I had a near panic attack thinking that Patty needed a new notebook and that Patty herself might go buy another notepad as horrendus as this one.  Right away I drove back to Target (it was 7pm) and bought Patty a set of matching notebooks.  I got the big one because it was spiral like hers and the small one in case she ever carried a small purse (ahahahhahahahah Patty carry a small purse, that is fucking hilarious).  

The next day I brought them to work and opened the big one so I could write a little note to Patty.  I used my favorite teal pen, that made my handwriting almost look sort of nice and wrote a cute little note to her.  I gave them to my mom to take to the post office and then every day for the next two weeks I asked Patty if she had received her notebooks yet.

Finally today I gave up and decided they must be lost so off I went to Target.  LIsa met me there and we went to look at the notebooks.  My head nearly exploded.  The ones I bought her were gone but there was about 17 new ones that I wanted BAD! Very bad.  I grabbed about nine (it could have been more) and Lisa and I walked over to get Codi a new pair of Croc type shoes.  After that we headed to the little girls department because I wanted to show her this skirt I almost bought her daughter for her birthday, but didn’t because I was worried it was too short.  We were walking and talking and then BAMMMMM I was ass on the ground. My right foot slid completely out from under me and I went into the splits.  Lisa laughed and said my long Maxi dress is the only thing that kept me from going full on splits.  My knee hurt and my hand but I got up. I looked down and realized there was some wet stuff all over the floor.  My ass was SOAKED.  The worst part is I was wearing little boy short undies so the remainder of the trip I had to walk around pulling my dress back so it didn’t get all wet and sticky on my ass.  Whatever it was it was sticky and yucky.  After much debating I narrowed it down to these notebooks.  They will be in the mail for Patty tomorrow.

The only problem is that now I am jealous and I want Patty’s notebooks.  I want them reallllllllly bad.  If I had the money I would go buy them again for myself. 

Anyway the moral of the story is, my ass hurts, my brand new dress is stuck to my right ass cheek, my steering wheel is sticky from the shit I fell in and Patty’s things are cuter then mine.

I hope you love them Patty, I measured and they should all be just the right size (the one on the right is for in case you ever happen across a small purse and need a small notebook). 

My favorite part of the story is that when Lisa and I walked back by two employees were standing around the spill I fell in saying,  “well what should we do, should we wipe it up?”  “I dunno I mean what do you think it is, it’s clear does it really matter.”

Employees of the year right there.

And in case you are wondering, when I just stood up my dress was stuck to my ass!

 

Add that to the list of things that really really really REALLY annoy the holy fucking shit out of me

I hate, hate, HATE when I go into a public restroom and there is a dirty toilet.  I don’t know why but if I walk in a stall and there is pee already in the toilet I have to walk out.  

Yes….i could just flush it and then pee but that would involve someone elses pee cooties floating out of the toilet in tiny condensation droplets all over me.

Walking in and seeing poo in the toilet sends me over the edge.  I back out slowly and then pretty much decide to hold it in until the next bathroom even if the next bathroom is 500 miles away.

Pee on the seat makes me break out in hives.

BUT

This week was the final line.  Walking in to find someone elses BLOOD smeared on the toilet seat, that is UNACCEPTABLE PEOPLE.

What kind of asshole bitch leaves blood on the seat?  Smeared blood.

SMEARED.

How do you not fucking know you did that and what kind of piece of shit leaves it there.

Crossing the line people.  

CROSSING THE LINE

 

Then there is that

I forgot to mention the part where my trainer glanced down to see my New Moon bracelet and proceeded to spend the last 20 minutes of my work out saying,

"Come on a vampire wouldn’t be a wuss"

"Edward can do this so can you"

"Edward wouldn’t date a cupcake like you, come on Shannon do it for Edward"

So yeah, there is that too.  My trainer actually tried to use my vampire boyfriend to make me work out harder.

Fucking bracelet

Hows that now

Have you ever been totally drunk and then tried to blog?  That is how that last post was, only instead if drunk I was totally delusional from my training.  Here is what happened. 

A few weeks back I told my trainer that I didn’t think half hour appointments were enough, that I was good enough for hours now.  He told me to buy a pack of hour appointments but we would start out with a couple half hours and then move to an hour, and if I couldn’t hang we would go back to half hours.  I’m pretty sure my exact words were,

"Shit Ryan I got this!"

Then because I wasn’t being moronic enough I said something along the lines of, "This time Ryan I want you to make it hurt okay, none of this sissy shit."

Ha hahahahahah silly stupid little girl.

So as you know, I’m doing the Climb the Legacy at the end of the month (have you donated yet) so before my work outs I’ve been trying to do 36 flights on the stairmaster as training.  However, on Monday Rob had to go tell me that the stairmasters flights were different so I needed to do 40 flights on there to equal the Legacy’s 36 (asshole).  I got to the gym about 15 minutes early today and I thought, "Shannon you are totally fucking awesome and you are a rock star so you should totally do your 40 flights on the Stairmaster before you  meet with Ryan.  Then Ryan will be all, "wow Shannon you are such a great trainee and since you were so awesome and ahead of the game I’ll go easy on you today" and then I’ll be the world most bad ass trainee ever hell yeah Shannon you are awesome."

Here is what really happened.

I do my 40 flights and saunter over to Ryan with some serious "I’m the shit" Swagger in my step and say, "yeah did you just see me bang out those 40 flights, pretty fucking awesome huh?"  To which my trainer said, "idiot, remember last week when you told me to make it hard, well after that I designed a program to kick your ass, and you just made it a hundred times worse on yourself dumbass."

Um.  No, that wasn’t the correct response Ryan.  Remember it was supposed to be something about how fantastic I am?

Next thing I know he’s all, "okay so get in push up position with these weights in your hand, do a push up then lift the weight in your left arm, then your right arm, then jump your legs up to your hands, then stand up and climb up that giant steppy thingy, do a curl step down, step up with the other leg, curl and repeat it all."

My jaw is still on the floor, I think I left it there.  I do his stupid little thing and it’s easy.  I was just laughing, if this was him working me hard I might as well have been filing my nails. 

Yeah.

Then.

"Okay now get over here lay on your back put the ball under your shins roll it back towards your ass, get your ass off the floor Shannon, okay do it twenty times and then I want you to freeze, hold your ass as far in the air as you can for a 10 count and then do ten more roll in thingies and then you can rest. "

And then I started to cry.  This shit hurts.  FUCK ME. 

"Okay now I want you to get on your side, make sure your hip is off the ground grab that weight and rotate under, over, under, over.  Twenty times GO."

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

"Now switch to the other side."

Switch, what, wait, really this wasn’t bad enough. Did I shit on Gods front lawn today or something?

"Okay get back on your back, grab that Swiss ball and put it in your hands now do a crunch and lift your legs, transfer the ball to your legs, drop your legs to the ground then lift them up, crunch up and grab the ball, lather rinse repeat."

I wanted to die.  Die die die dead kill me now.  Finally I was done. and then he said, "OKAY LETS DO IT AGAIN FROM THE BEGINNING."

At that point I was pretty sure the room was spinning.  One my third round I slowed down, which is right around the time Ryan called me a cupcake.

Finally I was done.  Three sets.  Thank everything holy.

ha

HA

HHHHAAAAA

The fucker turns around and pulls out the bosu ball and tells to get in push up position, then drop down onto the left elbow, onto the right, and back up. This was the HARDEST exercise I have ever done EVER in my life.  Two dips in and I realized I was about to puke.  PUKE.  Who pukes at the gym?  The people on the Biggest Loser that is who, not stupid little girls at the gym.  This would be the exact time he called me "Sally" and a "sissy."

He wasn’t done.  He made me do another arm exercise and then back extensions and then repeat it. 

This is the point when I realized I had actually just thrown up a little in my mouth and that I was seriously at the gym swallowing down vomit. 

VOMIT

Eventually I was done.  I was a free girl.  I stumbled out of there wobbling like I was drunk, the room spinning like I had just tossed back a bottle of Jaeger.  When I got downstairs I actually had to sit down for a second (that is when I wrote the first blog) and regain composure before getting the boys.  For a moment I actually wondered if I would be able to safely drive home.  Then I thought, "fuck safety do I even have enough energy to push the gas peddle down?  

The answer? Barely.

I just got home.  I pretty much collapsed in my chair.  I have no idea how I think I will make dinner.  I have zero idea how I will parent for the remainder of the night.  In fact, if I have to pee I’m pretty much fucked because I don’t think my muscles have enough energy in them to even squat down onto the toilet, let alone heft my fat ass up off the toilet seat.  I’m contemplating asking Brandon to go get me one of my jumbo over night pads so I can just pee in that all night rather then trying to actually move.

Ryan made sure to tell me that I will be really sore tomorrow, that Friday will be worse, Saturday will be kind of okay and by Sunday I should be able to climb my stairs with out crying like my two year old.

THREE DAYS YOU GUYS.  SORE FOR THREE DAYS.  THREE.  I MIGHT AS WELL HAVE ANOTHER C-SECTION.

In my next life, remind me never to ask my trainer to be hard on me again mmkay!

If I'm typing my trainer hasn't killed me….yet

Next time I get the bright idea to change my training from a half hour session to an hour session someone please feel free to kick me in the teeth because I’m pretty sure that would hurt less then this.

Also next time I decide to make fun of the girl at the front desk for puking the first time she trained with my trainer, please feel free to cut off my nipples or something because right now, the only thing that is keeping me from puking is the fact that I really don’t want to clean vomit off the gym carpet.  But once I get outside, oh it’s free game then.

I’m not entirely sure how I’m typing because my arms don’t function. 

Good bye off to die now….or puke…or something!

Checking in

I hate having to get all serious and shit with you guys, but periodically I have to, in order to give you an accurate update. I’ve been off the Lithium and Lamictal for a while now. I can tell you, that was a huge mistake. I can’t believe the difference. It was huge. Vivid. Worse then a pink elephant in a room, try a pink skyscraper with flashing lights and blaring music. I want to take you back a few months to a talk Rob and I had.

Rob has never really understood medicine. In fact a few people in my life haven’t. I think for people who aren’t going through what I am, understanding the necessity of it is hard. Rob has always said, “If you don’t want to be sad then don’t, mind over matter.” That would be easy if I had a brain that functioned like an average human. He has also always said he worried the medications were dangerous. Are they? Sure. Are the medications he takes for certain things dangerous? YUP. I always countered back asking him if he missed the person I was before the meds. Somehow in his mind he had kind of blocked it. He says he’s been with me for nine years and that is just the person he knows. I can’t begin to tell you how sad that makes me feel, to know that my husband thinks living with an insane person is normal. No one should find living with me normal. I told him I didn’t miss being the yelly screamy mom. The mom who became unhinged with a little question or spill or sneeze. I did not miss that. Again, he seemed to have blocked it out.

This past two weeks have been a bit of a reality check for him. When I came down off the medication I came down hard and fast. It was instant. He didn’t get a grace period. There was no time to ease back into the crazy lady it was just gone one day and BAMN it was there the next morning. I crumbled pretty fast. Very fast. Of course the first thing I did was self medicate. I bought some wine and had that after work knowing it would ease the tension in my head. Only that caused new tension because now I was drinking again and that was bad. He saw that too and commented on that. He saw me crumble nightly and he handled me with such care. I will never forget the night when he just grabbed my face and looked me right in the eyes and said, “Shannon I love you okay, I love you. I just need you to know I love you and I need you to be okay.” That was hard. It was hard knowing I had this man who would do anything for me, and having two kids who loved me unconditionally and I couldn’t function well enough to give that back to them.

I had been trying to see my doctor but he can’t see me until April 25th. My new insurance doesn’t have a single doctor available so I found myself at a crossroads. I was stuck. I had been hounding my doctors receptionist for a cancellation appointment and finally I just asked her to have the doctor call me. He did and about two minutes into the conversation he knew I was bad off. He asked if I wanted to go back on the Lamictal since it wouldn’t mess with my weight and it gave me energy. I said YES PLEASE NOW PLEASE HOW ABOUT YESTERDAY. He had a starter pack put at the front desk for me right away, luckily that will run out right in time for my next appointment. I think he was happy this happened, it was a learning experience for me. When he said I could go off with no fight thought that just meant it was okay, but now I see he needed me to learn that the medicine was actually doing me some good.

I’ve started back on the Lamictal. The hard part is it will take four weeks to be up to a useful dose. Which means I’m stuck in this darkness for another month. It doesn’t help that shit seems to seek me out when I’m in a fragile unguarded state like this. So many family things crept up this last month and handling it is near impossible. Very unlike myself this time I kind of just walked away from it. I sort of just shut it all down and pretended none of it existed. I wasn’t going to even attempt to sort it out or deal with it so I just put it on a shelf and I’ve decided I’ll maybe revisit it all when I get my head right again.

In the mean time my husband is being very patient with me. I kind of disconnected and I’ve picked a few fights (but he’s said some stupid things) and I’ve made it a hard couple weeks. I went to take a shower the other day and he popped up in there and asked if he could come in since we were low on hot water. He just kept asking if I was okay, if we were okay, and I am and we are, or, I will be and we will be. Again he just hugged me and told me how much he loves me. I think I’m lucky I ended up with someone like him. I can’t imagine going through all of this with another kind of man. Not all men would be willing to stick it out like he does. But it’s possible that he just loves me more then some husbands love their wives. Being married to him has often been a stabilizing force in my life. Knowing in the back of my head that I found someone that I actually belong with helps because it makes it so I never lose site of the fact that I do belong here, I need to be here.

Once again I find myself happy that my kids are young. I don’t want them to remember these phases. I hope from now on I can just stay on my medicine and be that good mom I was when Brandon was first born. I want to be the mom all the kids love. I want my boys to bring his friends to my house. I don’t want them to feel like they have to hide me.

I am also hopeful my head will get back in the gym. I’ve been going but not as whole hearted as before. I do my cardio but I’ve pretty much put my weights in the shitter. I have reasons of course, “I need to concentrate on losing pounds before I worry about muscle,” “ There is no reason to build muscle if you can’t see it under the fat.” I can’t wait to be back on a full dose of this medicine because that is what helped me kick ass at the gym. It made me crave the gym, want the weights, want to go every day, strive for 4-5 days a week. I hope so much that it will do the same this time and I will be back in action soon.

I am glad that I have hope. I’m glad that I haven’t been off the medicine so long that I forgot how good it was. I told Rob the other day that one of the hardest parts of coming down is the fact that I can remember how great every thing was only weeks ago yet it is nearly impossible to go back to where I was and it’s like a teaser reel playing over and over in my head.

As always I’ll keep you all up to date. I’m doing my best. Taking it day by day. Trying to shut my mouth when my husband sends me a warning glance because I’m being an asshole to the boys. Trying to pretty much avoid anything that will cause me to either become a belligerent jerk off or run home crying like a two year old. I’m trying. Trying is all I can do right now, and I’m doing it. Wish me luck.