This post has been a long time coming.  I’ll go ahead and warn you ahead of time that I will say the words truth and honesty a lot in this post, so please don’t tell me to get a thesaurus.  

I’ve been blogging for close to three years.  When this started I had dreams of being famous.  Of being a Dooce or an Amalah.  The truth is, the stories in my head would have drawn me a giant fan base.  The problem is, my real life friends and family found me and suddenly I censored everything I wrote.  So I turned to humor.  I tried to keep it light and funny.  Occasionally I would discuss the dark places in my head, and often I would simply ramble.  When this all started I would rush to my phone or grab paper to write down all the things in my head.  I was full of posts.  Full of anecdotes about my boys.  Now, well, now I have a hard time thinking of things to write.  I find myself forcing the funny, or searching very hard for a post.

The truth is this.  While I have wanted to say my medicine feels like it is working, I know it is not.  I know that I have retreated back into myself.  Maybe that is part of this post, maybe not.

Being honest I’m having a hard times with things in my life.  I’m having a very hard time dealing with my extended family.  I thought I tucked them away in a neat little box but last week I saw them all.  In one room they were there.  I broke down.  Badly.  I found myself wondering why the only good grandma, the only good extended family had to die and I got stuck with these people.  It was hard.  Hard knowing I let them get to me that much, and hard knowing they didn’t even care.

My cousin told me God never gives me more then you can handle, if that was true I wouldn’t be heavily medicated right now.  I wouldn’t find myself lost in my head wishing I could find myself again even if it was just for a day.

Blogging has become a chore.  It’s become something I feel obligated to do for so many different reasons.  But lately I’ve found myself leaving my computer closed.  Drawing away from Facebook and Twitter.  Spending time with my family has made my Google reader over load.  But pulling away from the computer has helped  me in so many ways.  My husband and I are getting along the best we have in nine years.  The other day he said that all of our mushy texts and cuddling and hugging are because we are still in love.  Every day still feels like that honeymoon phase, those first few months.  I am so glad we got that back.  So glad that every single night when I get in bed he automatically opens his arms to cuddle with me.  I believe his actual words were that we were still "courting" each other.  He chose that word because he thought it was something Edward would say.  He told me that a lot of people who have been together nine years don’t have what we have.  People who have been together a year don’t have what we do. I wouldn’t have found that if I was still sitting here on my computer.

I used to think my grandma sent Rob to me.  But lately I’ve started to think my birth father did.  I think he sent me Rob to make up for all the things he never did for me.  No matter what he did dead or alive he will never compare to my actual dad.  Never.  Truth is, I’m just as thankful for my dad as I am for my husband.  My birth dad has become a distant memory.  He has become a burden.  Having his name is a burden.  I want it gone.  I want to wash my hands of it.  I do know for sure that my grandma sent me my boys.  I know she did it to save me.  She must have known I would have gone to any length to become the mom I needed to be.  She had to have known I would turn myself around and let go for the sake of my boys.  Dead or alive she is still the best grandparent I’ll ever had.  I’ve come to appreciate the blessings in my life.  My mom who is on my side no matter what.  My dad who will protect me always, even if it is silently.  I am thankful to have a husband who will spend the rest of our lives holding me and loving me no matter who I am.  Thankful I have two boys who love me unconditionally. Thankful for my best friends who have never left my side.  Friends who let me spend two and a half hours in a car talking about nothing but MIley Cyrus and music.  I don’t need to write anymore to feel special.  I don’t need to share my life anymore.  I need to keep it here inside of my heart and hope that all of this good will eventually push out the bad. 

So.  With great difficulty and sadness I have made the decision to stop blogging for now.  Not forever but for a long time.  I hope you keep me in your reader so you will know when I come back.  For now though I need to be with myself.  I need to work out my head.  I feel like I can only burden all of you so much talking about my crazy.  I can only write so many stories about my boys.  I’ve become repetitive and boring.

I have made some amazing friends from this blog.  Patty, Mathers, Jiff, Marnie, Christie.  All of them.  The thing is, we no longer communicate via blog, we text, or email, or or leave notes on Facebook.  I’ve realized I don’t need the blog to communicate with them.

I have so many stories in my head.  Things I would love to get out.  Things that would amaze all of you.  Not being able to share them is starting to clog up my brain.

Yesterday I got in my car and drove two and a half hours alone to pick up Ginger.  I had my Miley Cyrus music, and the sound track to her movie blasting.  I had the windows down in a hail storm and the heater blasting.  I relaxed.  I knew in that moment I was done writing. I knew it was time to close the computer and find myself.  

I am doing something I never imagined I am walking away.  Again I hope you never lose my link because some day I could come back refreshed and anew.  I might come back ready to write again and be funny.  I might stop by here and there to let you know I’m still alive and well.  Besides that I will say goodbye for now.  

I will miss all of you.  I hope you can understand why I am leaving.  I hope doing this really helps me succeed in my journey.  I hope I am finally able to find some peace and put my head to rest.  I hope I will be able to spend every single second with my husband and kids.  My true family.  My family that will never walk away.  I hope I can find the courage to never break down in front of them again.  I hope so many things. 

If this post seems rambly its because it is.  I sat outside today and wrote this post a thousand times in my head.  It sounded so much better in my head.  I have the hardest time transcribing my head onto my blog.  The truth is I am witting this as fast as I can so I don’t change my mind.

I love all of you.  Thank you to my loyal readers.  I will close my computer now, I don’t plan to open it again until it is time to balance my check book.  And for now, I say goodbye.

Goodbye.

 

THAT IS THE LAST TIME I LEAVE HIM ALONE WITH HIS SAFETY SCISSORS

The next time I get the bright idea to only paint the toenails that will be visible through my peep toes….

Someone go ahead and remind me to fix that before I put on flip flops.

Dumb ass!

Ouch….

I’m pretty sure it is the mom in me, but, I cannot go to the bathroom with out shutting the door.  Even if I am home alone it is now instinct to shut AND LOCK the door.  Why?  Because four years of having some shit head little kid walk in while you are peeing can give a girl a complex.  And really, four years of having a kid walk in while you are changing your pad, and then ask if "you are changing your diaper" will really give you a complex.

Nine years later I still won’t pee with the door open if Rob is near the room.  In fact.  If Rob is home I won’t pee with the door open if he is in the house PERIOD.

Nine years later if I pooped (because girls don’t, obviously) I will not do so in the same room as Rob.  Which means, if he is in bed rather then go into our bathroom and poo (if girls did, which we don’t) I’d rather go to bed with a belly ache then…do that while he is in ear shot.  Could I go downstairs and poo? Sure, but then HE WOULD KNOW I WAS POOING BECAUSE I WENT DOWN STAIRS.

It’s hard being a woman. 
 

I am going out this weekend.  If there are any hip young girls who read my blog can you please school this old lady on what the cool kids wear out these days?  Please keep in mind my jiggly bits when you are telling me what to wear. 

The new limited edition S’mores ice cream is the most stupidly delicious ice cream I’ve ever tasted in my life. EVER.  Why why why is it limited?  WHY?  In fact, it is better then the Thing Mint ice cream which is a very tall order.  But y’all any slow churned ice cream that still has bits of graham cracker goodness and whole marshmallows totally kicks ass in my book.

My husband is at a soft ball game.  My parents have the kids and I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.  Am I really so old that I spend my first night all alone doing nothing but watching Top Chef and eating ice cream?  Isn’t there something worthy I’m supposed to do?

I have cracked my knuckles about 7 times since typing this.

I hate when people lick their finger to turn pages.  If it’s your book fine.  But when I stop by to pick up paper work and you lick all over your fingers and then touch your nasty ass grubby fucking germs on my paper I want to karate chop you.  Why why why do you feel like it is okay to smear your disease infected saliva on my papers? WHY???  This happened to me a couple weeks back when I had to pick up a material receipt from a supplier.  I wanted to vomit on myself when he handed me the paper.  I tried so hard to remember where he touched it so that I didn’t put my fingers anywhere near his nasty teeth, smoker mouth, gross ass saliva.

The dishwasher guy came over yesterday to look at my dish washer.  It doesn’t seem to dissolve all of the soap and…I dunno it just doesn’t seem to work right.  His answer, "well your water isn’t getting hot fast enough.

HOOOOOOLD ON THERE SPARKY.  Didja know the part about me having instant hot water?  Instant.  Do you know what instant means?  It means that if you turn my faucet to hot turn it on and put your hand under it YOU WILL GET BURNED.

The guy looks at me and says, well I understand that you think you have instant hot water but just to be safe you should probably run your sink water for about 3 minutes before starting your dish washer so the water gets hot enough.

…….

Did you read that?

THREE MOTHER FUCKING MINUTES.  This guy was old, but fuck I didn’t know he was senile.  So again.  Slowly and very calmly I explained my instant hot water.  To which he shook his head, and said, yes honey I know you "think" your water gets hot fast but water has to run a while until it heats up.

I wanted to bang my head into a wall. So I had him stand up, put his hand under my faucet and turn it on.  Fucking shocker it was hot!  No shit sherlock.  And he says, "well that is because we have been messing with the dish washer for a while so the water has had a chance to turn hot.

In the end I gave up.  Totally gave up, said okay sure, what ever crazy old man and sent him on his way.  

This reminds me of a totally random story. I might have told you about it a hundred years ago on this blog, but I have new readers, so old readers, tough luck you get to hear it again.  When we were moving in here the alarm guys came out.  They asked where I wanted the alarm bell thinger.  I said, well I don’t want it right out in the open because it hurts my kids ears.  They said, no that wasn’t possible. OOOKAAY.  So then they ask where I want my key pad.  I show them where and they say, "nope not possible." Look.  I’m a nice girl. But when you tell me no with out even kind of trying well…I’m going to get testy.  So geek boy one and nerd boy two try and tell me where they need to put my key pad and where my alarm bell thingy is going to go.  

I cross my arms and say, "NO I WANT IT HERE."

Shit for brains guy #1 again tells me no.  Right about this moment my dad looks over and sees that I am 1975 days into a remodel, I’m testy, and I want what I fucking want AND THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT.  He turns to the guys, looks around for a total of about three seconds and says, "okay, let me show you, obviously you can’t figure this out."  With in 30 minutes the moron twins had my shit wired in right where I wanted it.  

Huh.  Imagine that.

I’m sure it comes from 20+ years of my dad running thermostat wire into places about the size of an ant hole, but what really pissed me off is that they just said no.  NO.  How do you say no with out even trying?  It is probably good my dad was there that day because I think I would have thrown those assholes out.

The humorous part is my dad looks like a totally normal guy.  Like some average Heating guy, or construction guy.  But he is not.  He is a fucking genius.  It kind of drives me crazy.  Growing up I would ask how to spell something and he would say "look it up."  Man that shit pissed me off.  But, I guess he must be so smart because he "looked it up" all those years.  Anyway, the funniest part was that these guys looked at him like he was crazy.  Like he couldn’t possibly know what he was talking about.  These two youngins thought they were going to school him.  Silly silly boys. They must not have "looked it up" when they were learning their job huh?

People give me so much hell for my Google addiction.  But, that is why.  I’d rather Google the dumbest thing and figure it out then remain ignorant while pretending to know what I’m doing.  Which is why, last week when Patty got her iPhone I was adamant that she get the Google ap.  So she could Google such things as sauté.  Although why she would Google that instead of me just baffles me.  Point being.  That damn Google ap is the best free thing I ever put on my iPhone.  

Google can get me in a little trouble too.  I have a habit of Googling people and finding out naughty bits that I shouldn’t.  Don’t people know in this day and age you should stop being a fucking idiot because if not I will Google you and find out your dirty little secrets.  Then of course I will get Ginger on Yahoo and show her my Google find, then 90% of the time I will get my mom on Yahoo and share my little Google gem, and then…99% of the time I end up in trouble.

Point being, if you are a thief, a baby stealer, a cheater, an asshole, a player, a cheat, a bad business man, or a closet gay man who is married I WILL FIND YOU!!!!!

Okay.  I should stop talking now.  You see, this is what happens when I’m left home alone with nothing but ice cream and amaretto. 

Uh oh, maybe I shouldn’t talk about all of this….you might all be able to Google me some day.

 

PS my spell check says that: Poo, fuck and thingy are not real words.  They obviously haven’t fucking met me.

I was thinking that next time I go to the gym I want to repeat the work out I did at my last training session.  Then I reread this and figured it might be better to go home have some vodka and stumble up and down my stairs calling it exercise then to ever do that again.

 

This part specifically reminded me I DO NOT WANT TO REPEAT THAT:

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.

Moved the give away post, Shannons in trouble post, and results here.  I have announced a winner so hurry up and go see.

 

Also, you really want to go see it because it is another ridiculous video blog by myself, the dork.

 

Until I have better time to edit it, the give aways will be posted on my former Misguided Mommy blog.  Here is the link

http://wilddreemer.blogspot.com/

Live video blog of Shannon being a moron and discussing results delay can be found here

http://wilddreemer.blogspot.com/2010/05/shannon-gets-in-trouble.html

 

This picture of her purse is kicking ass in the give away, I think she gets extra points for labeling each item on her flickr.  You all better get it together before she totally creams you!

Too see her mad labeling and organizing skillz click here

 

Then someone magically find one of these purses for only $20.00 instead of $250 mmkay