On the way to dinner the other night, Christopher told me we would have to celebrate Mother’s day on another day. Mother’s Day is one of their busiest days of the year at his work… I guess everyone just thinks that after their mom’s worked so hard for the other 364 days of the year, that she deserved chicken or fish that’s been battered and fried and served up in a box or a bucket. What’s more special to say I love you to your mom than fast food. But Whatever….

While we were talking about it, he told me this story about how one of the manager’s, Patty, asked for the day off. She’s not a mom, and she’s not planning on spending the day with her mom. She asked for the day off because her sister miscarried, and she wants the day off to spend the day with her sister, in memorial of the Would-Be Mother’s day that she missed.

Now, hearing this, I immediately sympathized with her sister, and then with Patty. I used to be close to my sister, and I would have wanted to do the same thing for her. But then I heard that Patty uses this excuse excessively. I guess she’s done it so much that the people around work asked if they make Saddles for Babies that little…. because she seems to be riding this one for quite some time. I suddenly was very upset, and I even started crying. What little respect I had for Patty beforehand is totally gone. When we got to the restaurant, Christopher held me and told me he loved me. And everything would be okay.

I abhor people like her. How can you trivialize something like that, and benefit from someone’s anguish? That’s totally revolting to me. I just want to walk up to her and shake her and ask her WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HER?

I’ve lost a child. I’ve lost MORE THAN ONE child. My husband should be able to pull the “we lost a child and had a FUNERAL for our baby” card whenever the hell he wants… but he doesn’t. Because it’s wrong. And it totally disrespects our little unborn’s grave. I want to vomit just thinking of this woman’s name now.

As I was sitting in the car, crying and being angry with this stupid girl, I realized, Oh my goodness- it’s been a long time since I cried for the baby I will never meet. The tears fell freely as I thought about our whole ordeal. I almost died. My babies almost didn’t have a momma. Walking into that whole cemetery block… with all of those tombstones that read Born into Jesus’ Arms. I was so depressed I didn’t think I’d ever bounce back. Getting pregnant with River truly brought me back to reality.

I’m a strong believer in Karma. and What doesn’t Kill us Makes us Stronger. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today, if I didn’t have the experiences I did yesterday.

I wonder if Patty’s sister knows Patty trivializes her loss to get days off from work?

I’ve been meaning to write about this for some time now, but I’ve been distracted with other things.

Our little girlie kitty had kittens on April 1st. She had three kittens (one born stillborn) and they were simply adorable. Two of them were pure white, so adorable, and they looked like wrinkly rats LOL!! On the second day, one of them passed away while the older three were at their dad’s house. Lexie was down there begging to look at the kitties, and I just started bawling. I didn’t know how to tell her. Before I could tell her she was gone, she reached right in and said, “But Momma, this one is really cold. I’ll use my hands to make her warm.” I could barely choke out, “Honey, she didn’t make it thru the night. That kitty is gone.” She looked at me confused, with the little kitty in her hands, “What do you mean, momma?” she started crying “Is she dead?” We both just broke down and I held her, and stroked her hair while I told her it was okay to be sad, and that I was sad too. I told her that made the one who lived even MORE special, and she was the most special kitty of all. And that just meant we had to give the kitty even MORE love, because she was the only one left. We sat and cried for probably ten minutes, and finally started drying our tears. Lexie said she wanted to name the one who didn’t live “Angel” since that’s where good people (and kitties) go when they die. I agreed it was a beautiful name. I cried the rest of the day. How was I going to break the news to the other kiddos?

When we picked up the kids from school the next day, they were all so excited about seeing the kitties. Lexie started to blurt out, “One of the kitties……..” and I shushed her and talked over her and said, “The kitty didn’t make it. One of the kitties is gone,” and I started bawling again. The kids were very very upset, and we were all bawling. Even though I told myself, I wouldn’t get attached– but in the short hours we had with them, I’d grown very very attached. When we got home from school, they all wanted to see the kitty, and we decided we’d bury her with some sort of ceremony.

For the next few days the kiddos were very reserved. They didn’t want to see the kitty, cuz they were afraid they’d go in to another kitty who had passed away in the night. I tried to ease their fears, and we checked on the lone surviving kitty many times during the day. Over the first couple of weeks, our kitty who was pure white when she was born, started to darken, and we all thought she was going to be a siamese like her daddy… but weeks later revealed coloring like her momma… and we all think she’s going to be a calico. Christopher agreed, as much as he doesn’t want to have three cats, this baby kitten is special, and she lived… and Lexie has fallen in love with her. He doesn’t want to let his baby girl down.

KiiKii (our siamese) however, is on his last legs. He won’t stop peeing in our house, and I just cannot handle it anymore.

I’m 30 years old now. We really didn’t celebrate my birthday much. It did start out nice though- the kids brought me a piece of toast, a licorice stick, and chocolate milk for breakfast. It was so sweet of them, and they were so happy to bring it in to me. I was so tired, and I think I may have eaten the toast with my eyes closed, but them bringing me breakfast in bed really was special to me.

Not long before my 30th Birthday I had this grand epiphany. One like no other, and has totally blown my mind. Not many times in your life can a person say that such a revelation has really changed them in such a magnitude. Sort of like finding out for the first time that there is no such thing as Santa Claus. It just sort of rips the carpet out from underneath you, and sucks the breath right out of you. All that time, you think to yourself, all of that time, I was living a lie.
(more…

When my husband and I finally got together, one of the first things I noticed of him (after his piercing blue eyes), was this tattoo on his arm.

A fading purple Kool Aid man with xx for eyes, and fumes coming outta the top.

“What is that?”
“A Purple Koolaid Man”
“Yeah, I see that. But WHY?”
“It’s the Jim Jones Koolaid Man.”
“Who is that?”
He laughed at me like I should know, “The Jim Jones Massacre”
“I’m sorry… I’m not familiar….”

Then he proceeded to tell me about how Jim Jones murdered a bunch of people with Koolaid laced with cyanide in a mass genocide blah blah blah

Yeah, my husband has a morbid sense of humor regarding history. He has an infatuation with death that I used to find unhealthy, until he said he could make a living with it (Forensic Pathology).

So anyway, we’ve been together for about seven years. I hardly ever see it, he always has a t-shirt on that covers his upper shoulder. Then tonight I was watching this thing on You Tube of all things, with this girl talking about how Kool Aid was never involved with Jim Jones, that it was Flavor Aid… but that the media later CHANGED IT to Kool Aid because Kool Aid was more popular.

Way to go Media in rewriting history *high fives*

I wonder how many other instances have been rewritten… and how many people with KoolAid tattoos feel duped by the media now?

For Valentines, I decided I’d get the girl’s nails done for them. It was only $5, and I thought it would be fun for them to go to a “grown up” place instead of doing them at home.

Reagan picked pink, and she wanted hearts on hers, Maddie picked Red, and she also wanted hearts. And my adorable little LexieBoo, bless her little gothic heart, chose SPIDERS.

Yes, you heard me right… she had spiders painted on her nails (and the stylist did a dam good job considering the itty bitty nail she was working with- she even painted a web and everything).

I guess if you ever met her daddy, you’d understand LOL

Too Funny.

It’s become an everyday struggle to get my kids to listen to anything I say. It’s even hard to get Reagan to listen, and she used to listen to everything.

The house is in shambles, because the only one who ever cleans is me… I have to beg and plead and scream and yell to get them to even hang their coats up. Their favorite thing to say to me is, “It’s not fair… why do *I* have to clean it up? I didn’t make the mess.” I always reply back that I don’t eat all of the food for dinner, but I make sure they are always fed. That part of being a family means that sometimes you clean up after someone else’s mess, or have to do something for someone else because it helps out. They still don’t get it.

When Reagan walked in the house this afternoon after Superdad dropped them off from school, I noticed she had capris on. Now, it’s only like 11 degrees outside, and even colder if you figure in windchill. I’ve told them several times that it’s too cold to wear capris right now. If there’s snow on the ground, don’t wear Capris to school. She tried to convince me that since her boots covered up the skin that the capris didn’t cover, that everything should have been find. I reminded her how ridiculous it looked to wear boots with capris, but she scoffed at me and told me they looked good. I asked her if any of the kids in school made fun of her for dressing like that.

When it came closer to the time her dad was supposed to pick them up, I told her she needed to change her pants. That she wasn’t wearing capris to her dad’s house… that she shouldn’t have had them on in the first place. It’s winter out, and those aren’t winter attire. She told me she wasn’t changing. I started to get annoyed. She kept seeing the song that was on TV.

I told her to shut the TV off.
She rolled her eyes and told me, “In a minute.”
annoyed even more, I demanded she shut it off RIGHT THAT INSTANT.
She rolled her eyes at me and told me no.
I shut the TV off myself, and told her to go get dressed.
She turned the TV back on.
I turned the TV Off.
She turned it back on.
I UNPLUGGED the TV, and told her to go get dressed.
She plugged the TV back in

I finally had enough and put her in her bedroom and shut the door. She opened the door back up. I told her she needed to stay in there until she got dressed and her dad came to pick her up. She refused to keep the door open and told me I couldn’t make her. I shut the door again, and she proceeded to bang the hell outta the door and the walls.

I had finally had enough, and I opened the door to yell at her. She tried to leave the room, and I told her there was NO WAY I was letting her back in the living room. She screamed at me that I’m a horrible mom, blah blah blah… everything a kid yells at you to try to make you cave. I think I heard I’m gonna tell my dad on you 3 or 4 times as well. I told her she had til the count of three to quit banging on the walls and to go lay down or she wasn’t going to her dad’s. She tried to pull her arms free of my hands, and told me to let her go and stop touching her. I told her she needed knock off her attitude and start listening. She tried to pull free, and I let go of her to get my balance. She punched me right in the chest and screamed at me to leave her alone.

Did I mention by now I’m completely furious and it took everything in me to stay calm?

Right beside us was her desk, and on her desk is the computer monitor my husband was supposed to install on my computer, but never did. She grabbed ahold of the monitor and told me I had 3 seconds to leave, or she was going to drop it off the desk onto the floor. In my own stupidity, I thought ‘never in a million years will she be THAT stupid’ so I stood there. She counted 1, and slid it a little further off the desk.

“Reagan, knock it off.”

2, and the monitor is sitting at the edge of the desk.

“Reagan ANASTASIA! KNOCK… IT… OFF!”

3, and the monitor crashes to the ground.

I just stood there completely dumbfounded. I didn’t even know what to do.

The kids heard the big crash and they come running in. “OMG OMG, did she throw that on the floor?” and “oooooooooooh yer in trouuuuubllllllle” was spewing outta their sassy mouths.

She stood there looking at me with this smug look on her face. “See, I told you I would do it. You should have listened to me.”

I told her she could forget going to her dad’s house, and she would be spending the night here. She didn’t believe me, but soon started too when I called him up and told him what happened.

Later on, she comes out of her room after the other kids have left and asks if she can go potty. I let her go potty and on the way back to her room she started playing with River. I was getting ready to talk with her about her behavior when she looked at me really remorsefully. Like “wow, I can’t believe I just put you thru alla that, I’m so sorry.” I tried to start my conversation with her by saying I love you, but she burst into tears and ran off. I found her sitting on her bed bawling.

I asked her what she was crying about but she wouldn’t answer me. I reached over and held her while she cried in my arms. I don’t really know what’s going on in that head of hers, but I do know that she’s just like I was when I was a little girl, and the next 8 years are probably going to be hell. Oh the joys of looking towards puberty.

What did I get myself into?

River’s saying Uh Ohhhhhhh, or Lexie’s giggling when she’s playing on the PC

…
…
…
Did I mention that the truck is sooooooooooooooooooooo nice now that it has heat?

Okay, I have to go clean now

I really didn’t want to spend New Years in front of a computer, so I asked if we could go out. We usually go over to a friend’s house who also have kids… so we can send them all downstairs to play, while we all bring in the new year. Christopher was apprehensive because there were people who go over there who he didn’t want to spend time with, and still had bad feelings towards since Jacob’s funeral. I assured him that she would not be there, and we could all just go and have a good time. Though it took some coaxing, I convinced Christopher to load up all of the kids and go over there for New Years Eve. Superdad hadn’t told me yet, but he had intended on taking the kids on New Years (why I don’t know? Possibly because now they have Superbaby? And couldn’t find a sitter?)… so they would be picked up from our destination when he got off work. All would work out.

We got there and were having a great time. Had played some trivia games, and the doorbell rang. I went to the door because Superdad had called, and said he was on his way. When I got close to the door, it opened and in walked the very two people Christopher didn’t want to hang out with. I didn’t really know what to do. I just turned around and cringed.

For the sake of this story, we will call her Miss Tacky.

Miss Tacky and her husband brought homemade Sangria, and was asking/pleading with everyone to drink some, “Jake woulda drank my Sangria,” she kept saying. The first time I heard it I was shocked. Did she really just say that? I think it bothered Christopher and Steve just enough that they took a glass so she’d shut up.

The only one in the room she didn’t bother was me. I guess she doesn’t know me well enough to feel like she can pour booze down my throat yet, or was just too busy conning everyone into thinking that she should be the spotlight of the night because she brought the best thing to drink in the world. Either way, I was thankful she wasn’t trying to get me to drink something I wanted nothing to do with. Did I mention, it almost looked syrupy?

After several rounds of drinks, and several rounds of trivia, the boys had went to smoke outside about half a dozen times. The girls always stay inside while the boys go outside for “Man Time.” I’ve always respected this tradition, and it gives me time to catch up on the gossip from the girls. Miss Tacky on the other hand, will not let her husband leave her sight, or she has a huge fit about how he must not care for her enough to want to include her. She demonstrated this very fact when she threw a fit the night of Jacob’s funeral because the guys wanted a moment alone to remember their best friend. Christopher could never see her again, and it would be too soon*sigh*

So during one of these Man-Time Breaks, I was rummaging in the fridge for something to snack on, and our host mentions she had Petit Fours and Cheese in there for everyone and I should pull them out and help myself. That’s all she had to say, and I was already rummaging for delectible little morsels of edible sweets.

Miss Tacky decided she wanted some cheese. She picked some flavor I could barely pronounce, opened up the little individual sized serving, and started smelling it. Then, she tried to convince everyone else to smell the cheese. She was convinced it smelled funny, and she didn’t want it if it was bad.

“Jake would smell my cheese,” She was pouting outloud to everyone in earshot.

I kept thinking to myself, OMG Jacob isn’t even with us any longer, and here she is talking about how he woulda smelled her cheese if he was here. Not that the subject of Jacob isn’t raw and tender enough since this was the beginning of the first year without him, but then to have someone basically mock him and use his name to further her protest was just absurd.

I snapped back for her to eat the damn cheese, that it was just from Christmas, and that was like 4 days before. It was sealed in individual servings, and there was no way it woulda went bad that quickly. She started taking nibbles off the cheese.

Convinced that she had to share her two bites of cheese that were in the serving size, she started roaming the room shoving her cheese in everyone’s face. “TRY MY CHEEEEEESE…. Jake woulda tried my cheese. He woulda ate it….”

No one wanted to try her cheese. Most people shoved her arm outta their faces. I was totally dumbfounded she kept talking about Jacob.

She wandered the room a full circle before she sat back down to eat the rest of it. She happened to be sitting beside me, so she felt compelled to talk to me. I was only half listening cuz this had been going on for so long that the guys were talking about going outside for another smoke break. I watched them all file towards the door. I think she missed it altogether that her husband had left the room, because she just kept talking about her cheese.

And then I heard the most absurd disrespectful thing I’ve heard from an adult in several years:

“Jacob woulda ate my cheese, but he CAN’T. Cuz he’s DEAD!”

I looked at her and blurted out, “What the hell is wrong with you?” I never even got a response from her. I got up and walked away from her.

Surprisingly enough, no one in the room heard what she’d said. Everyone else was having their own conversations. I was the only one who had to listen to this stupid warped bitch spew forth her offending comments. I don’t think I will ever forget that.

There are some times in your life, that tact shouldn’t be overlooked. Ushering in the new year without Jake at our sides, was hard enough for the boys without having someone remind them about how he was gone. It’s just a miracle that no one heard her say it. It’s bad enough I know, I couldn’t even imagine what would have happened if Christopher woulda heard it.

Thank goodness for Man-Time….

When we picked River’s name, everyone thought we were mad. They didn’t have much time to complain about it though- since we didn’t actually come up with the name until about 2 or 3 days before he was born. And all my mom could say was, “Well, I guess it’s better than freej–, well, whatever you’ve been calling him.” (referring to us calling him Frijolito while he was in utero). While everyone thought we were crazy, we stood strong, and my little baby was born into this world:

River Echo- August 2nd, 2006

Sometime around his birthday this year, I found out that Keri Russell had a little boy and named him River as well. MY River was almost a year old when HER River was born, but I still worried people would think I named my baby after hers. And then while I was talking to my friend tonight, she informed me that the Hanson kid (who isn’t a kid anymore) also had a baby named River. SAY WHAT?!?!?!

So now, it seems River is a turning into trendy name, and Hollywood has taken a liking to his name. I heard it’s getting popular in other places as well. I hope it doesn’t totally catch on, and become the new Ian. But I have to say, I love his name, and it’s about damn time his name got some media recognition. Here this whole time my parents thought it was a nonsensical name….

So Happy New Year to the Rivers I know:

Moi and Mr. Moi- River Echo, August 2nd, 2006
Keri Russel- River Russell Deary, Jun 9th, 2007
Taylor Hanson (Of Band, Hanson)- River Samuel Hanson, September 4th, 2007

Christopher walked into the house after work a couple weeks ago, and his cheeks and nose were bright red from the frigid midwest winter air. We don’t have heat in our truck, and it makes for a very chilly ride home when it gets to be 10 or 15 degrees outside. That night it happened to be 7 degrees when he got home. He was wearing the fleece mittens I had begged him to wear. He didn’t like them because they have big blue stripes on them, and they are ‘girlie’ looking.

“Good, I’m glad you decided to wear them,” I said, welcoming him home.
“Well, I didn’t really have a choice. I was almost home and I think the battery quit on me. That or the water pump actually froze solid?” He said as he was taking his mittens and coat off. “I was lucky, and a cop saw me break down, and helped me push it outta the intersection and into the Zoo parking lot. He offered me a ride home, but I told him I only lived a few blocks away, and I could walk.”
“Oh MY GAWD, Christopher- YOU WALKED FROM THE ZOO? It’s….”
“No, I didn’t, I started to walk, and realized I couldn’t even feel my toes. I turned around just in time to catch him. He dropped me off at the driveway.”
“Thank goodness,” I said with tears in my eyes. I wish he woulda remembered the officer’s name. I would like to send him a thank you note.

He called the mechanic the next morning, but they couldn’t go tow it for 3 days. Great. No Car, right before Christmas. And I was stupid this year, since the truck had been acting up, and I didn’t have ANYTHING shopped for. The mechanic said he’d add the tow fee onto our bill, which I thought was really nice of him to do. Especially, since we didn’t have the money right then and there to get it towed.

So for the day that the mechanic had it, until he called us with the estimate, I just dreaded seeing the mechanic’s number come up on Caller ID. I hardly ever worry about money if I can’t change anything right that minute, but I guess the Christmas Season brings out even the most beligerent worrier in all of us.

When he finally called, I cringed when he said, we checked out the Explorer, and it looks like it’s gonna be around $650 to get everything fixed. I asked for an itemized list of everything being fixed and the cost of everything.

The list read something like this:

New Battery Connections
New Radiator
New Heater Core
Freeze Plug

Okay, so I admit I’d never heard of a Freeze Plug, but it was pretty easy to guess it had something to do with something in the truck Freezing, which is exactly what Christopher had thought it was going to be.

I told him I didn’t know if we were going to fix the heater core, since this is the second winter we’ve went without a heater, and I think we could do it again. I thanked him for his time, and told him that I would call Christopher at work and get back to him with the go ahead to start fixing stuff.

I sat at home by myself, while Christopher was at work, crying about what in the world we were going to do to come up with $650. I mean, it was like a few days before Christmas, and I still had to buy Santa Presents for the kids. I finally broke down and called my dad.

My dad answered the phone, and we exchanged pleasantries. I asked him how everything was, and he said they were having some troubles with my mom’s bandage. She just had knee surgery, and was taking a shower, and they were trying to redress her owies. Now I felt like a complete ass for calling up to complain about my own life.

After a few minutes of him assuring me that he could saddle anyone’s burdens because he was The Almighty Dad, I broke down and started crying to him about my truck. He seemed shocked I was talking to him about money, but he was happy I came to him. He asked me for the mechanic’s name and number and told me he’d do whatever he had to to help me out. He said he was honored to know that I respected him enough to know that if I was really in a pinch, I could come to him. Then he mentioned that the last time I borrowed any money from him was right after Superdad left me with three kids by myself, and needed help with a deposit on my new apartment. That was almost seven years ago. He said he knew I was the last person I’d ask, and that he knew it took a lot for me to ask. Immediately after he offered to help, this IMMENSE burden on my shoulders was light as air. I felt like I could breathe again. Maybe the kids would have Christmas.

We gave the mechanic the go-ahead, and a few days went by and Christmas came. This year the older three went to Superdad’s on Christmas Eve. They have never done that to my knowledge. I’ve always had them on Christmas morning. I have to say, it didn’t feel like Christmas when we got up at almost 2pm because River and Lexie let us sleep in. I missed them rushing into our room with cries about how great the Santa Presents looked, and OMG Can they rip them open this instant. We didn’t even do stockings this year, since Lexie really doesn’t know much about them, and the older three would be getting stockings at their dad’s.

When the older three came home, we went to Chris’ step parents’ house and they fed us all. I was so grateful to go over there, since I had lost my debit card earlier this week, and we couldn’t go buy groceries, because I couldn’t find anyone to give me a ride in time, and access the money in the bank since it was a holiday. She even sent us home all of the leftovers because she knew we were short on food for the next day, until we could get our money back. I was so immensely grateful.

The day after Christmas, the mechanic called to give us an update, and said the car just didn’t seem to be flowing the way it should be…. and they thought maybe the freeze had killed the water pump, but it could be something else. My dad called them and told them to let him know if it was going to be up over $700. We were straight, and just waiting for it to be fixed.

They called the next day and told me that the end total was $900.44 for all repairs, including a new water pump. I about choked on my tongue when he said the number. I dreaded calling my dad to tell him how much it was. I hung up the phone, and called my dad, and regurgitated the convo I just had a minute before. I could tell he was upset, but he was going to pay for it nonetheless. I figured the mechanic would get an earful, since they never got authorization to fix it, since they knew the cost would be over $700. My dad called me back after he called them, and told me my mom would be putting it on a credit card. I cringed even more, since in a previous conversation he told me that he’d been putting in overtime so that they could be debt free by spring. If they put almost a grand on a credit card, I’m sure that wouldn’t be happen. I could just imagine him asking my mom to do that. I KNOW she FLIPPED HER FREAKING LID. I am so scared to call her now, that I have decided I am going to avoid any contact with her for the next month. Maybe by then she will be cooled down enough not to scream at me about it.

(She’s the whole reason I don’t ask for money. Way back when- when my dad paid my deposit… He BEGGED me to let him pay it for me, as a Father’s Day Present to himself. To know that he helped his daughter out, and that he was helping her better her life blah blah blah. I told him I’d think about it, and I didn’t get back to him for about two weeks. Well, dad said he’d set the money to the side just for me, but my mom caught wind of that, and I swear she purposely spent the money at an auction… just so she could have something to bitch about. When she wrote the check to the landlord for my deposit, she was totally disgusted that she was shelling out $600. I was a burden. Again. And she wanted me to know about it. Even though I never ASKED, he OFFERED. but whatever. That’s why I’d never asked for any money since then.)

After she paid for it, my dad called me and told me “Merry Christmas, Have Some Heat.” He knew that we’d not had heat in our truck since before last winter. He said, “Momma needs a way to get places, Babies need a ride to school. Dad doesn’t need to be wearing Sissy Gloves, just to stay warm.” He also mentioned that he had to listen to a big lecture about paying for my truck… and to promise him we would stay on top of it a bit better next time… so it didn’t end up costing about a grand to fix it if something went wrong.