So. I would say the last 10 weeks or so have really kicked my ass.  Between my grandpa dying, thinking my family was making up to find out they were going to be bigger assholes, an adoption situation, an asshole tenant, literally not sleeping more then 3 hours at a time, and only sleeping with the help of valium, getting so worked up with kids and life that I actually started thinking smashing dishes against the wall sounded like the best idea in the world.  I’m not giving my husband the attention he deserves.  I’m yelling like crazy, I’m overwhelmed, preoccupied, angry, drained and lost in my head.  I lost a lot of income in the last month and went from putting away a lot of money to savings to being negative every week and being pay check to paycheck.

My psychiatrist spent the full hour shaking his head at me today and finally asked me how in the hell I had made it past the last 3 weeks.  The second to last time he saw me I had walked from the hospital where my grandpa was dying down a busy road, walked in his office while he had a client in and demanded to be medicated before I turned around walked to ER and asked to be sedated.  He ended up doubling my medication, more then doubling my dose of valium and telling me I can not go more then a month with out seeing him.  He has no idea what to do with me since I’ve pretty much admitted I’ve gotten lost in my head and I don’t want out because as shit tastic as my head is right now I’m comfortable in here right now, I know how to function this way.  

So.  Ginger and I want to go to San Francisco and spend a three days doing nothing but eat good food and go dick around at kid museums and ice cream shops.  I need to get out of town.  Get away from everything, spend a road trip blasting Miley, spend 2 hours in line in the morning to get into the best breakfast place in America, and follow that up with going to a fresh bakery and proceed to taste on of every single thing in there. I promise you, if I don’t get to go out of town in two weeks, shit will hit the fan, things will be broken, and people will be screamed out.

 

 

When I first got my iPhone I excitedly posted my first blog post from it while going pee in a restaurant bathroom.  It went something like, "I hate waiting in fucking lines at restaurants."

The only problem is, it came out as, "I hate waiting in DUCKING lines at restaurants."

Jodifur commented and told me I needed to teach my iPhone to cuss.

Two years later and the fucking thing still wouldn’t type, shit, fuck, piss, fucker, hell, etc.

While browsing comments on the new iPhone software I came along the most brilliant comment on the planet.

I learned how to make my phone cuss.  You see, your phone will never auto correct the names that are in your contact list.  Meaning if you have a friend with the name Hipitabano your phone will never correct that word when you type it. 

Which is why I now have a contact named FUCK SHIT. 

Guess what?  My phone has never corrected the word shit again.  No more shit turning to shot.  Nope not here.  I am planning on adding the following contacts.

Fucking asshole.  Piss Pissed.  Fucker shitty.  Fucked shitty and Cunt bitch.

Pretty fucking genius if I do say so myself.

After telling Codi to go put his shoes on and go finish getting dressed he stomped up the stairs, turned around and said;

"CHECK YOU ATTITUDE MOM"

 

Great. 

I promised you an update and I will do that soon.  For now, what I can tell you is, I never realized just how much I would miss all of you when I was going through something really shitty.  To summarize, I’ve spent the last 5 days at the hospital watching the grandfather that I stubbornly hadn’t spoken to in two years deteriorate.  He has been unconscious the entire time which means he never got to hear me say I’m sorry, that I love him, that we are both totally bullheaded, hard headed and stubborn but he wins I give up and I’ll say sorry first.  I learned one thing from him.  In fact it wasn’t learned it was bread in my genes (aside from a raging temper, the need to be right, and being one stubborn son of a bitch) the art of cooking came from him.  He is the reason I don’t use a recipe and on the off chance I do I always change it.  The reason I cook from taste.  He was the reason that for so many years I cooked every meal with love.  He is the reason my kitchen is full of All-Clad, Les Creuset and Wusthof.  The reason Henckle knives have been banned from my kitchen.  In fact, hes the reason I have fingers because he was the only person who could explain to me how NOT to cut them off while cutting a tomato. Needless to say I can’t cook anything right now. I was able to walk in the kitchen long enough to get coffee but in the end I had to drive to the store at 730 this morning to buy a lunchable because packing Brandon’s lunch was too much.

 

The last few months I’ve said over and over I’ve lost the luster in the kitchen.  I don’t love to cook anymore.  It doesn’t thrill me I don’t care and I cook only to make sure they have food.  I wonder if my mind wasn’t trying to tell me something.  If it wasn’t telling me to buck up, stop being a shit head and just go see him.  They say kids and animals have a sixth sense, well, I wonder if that part of my heart didn’t have that same sense.  I will spend the rest of my life regretting the things I didn’t say to him.  Or knowing he died never knowing how much I still loved him.  His eyes moved a little and he blinked some and I can only hope he heard all of the stuff I said. Some serious, some stupid, some just to get a response.  But, one thing my grandma could tell my mom and I (his first wife my actual grandma) is that when he died he wanted "I did it my way" on his head stone.  I never got it.  So yesterday when I loaded my moms iPod with Neil Diamond and David Allen Coe, and maybe even a little Willy Nelson, we added Frank Sinatra’s My way on.  And now, my final hope is that in those last few minutes, while he could maybe hear, he heard his final song.  And if you read below, I can’t imagine ever finding a song more perfect for him, or those last moments.  We will be taking him off life support soon and then it is just a waiting game to see how long his body lasts.

 

Until then, I dedicate this song to him, take a second to read it.

 

Artist : Frank Sinatra
Song : My Way

And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, I’ll say it clear,
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain.

I’ve lived a life that’s full.
I’ve traveled each and ev’ry highway;
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Regrets, I’ve had a few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall;
And did it my way.

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried.
I’ve had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that;
And may I say – not in a shy way,
"No, oh no not me,
I did it my way".

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows –
And did it my way!

 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.