I forgot to write about this way back when it happened… and wanted it written down for when my dear baby, River grows up, and contests, “I did NO SUCH THING…”

River throws fits all of the time when he doesn’t get his way. He gets really mad, starts screaming, flings himself backwards, and almost ALWAYS bangs his head on the floor. Then he looks at you in total disgust like YOU are the reason he got hurt.

One day a couple months ago, I was laying in bed trying to take a nap. I had River in my bedroom with me, trying to get him to take a nap as well.

Well, when River sees ANYONE lay down it automatically means it’s time to jump all over them as if he’s in a wrestling match for his life. He doesn’t let up, and it’s really annoying when yer trying to sleep. But then when you hear him giggle cuz he’s just having a blast, it’s so hard to be angry.

Except for this day.

I was sooooooooooo tired, I was begging and pleading with him to stop. I finally got angry and firmly told him to knock it off. He flung himself backwards like he always does, and THIS TIME, he headbutted me right in my cheekbone, under my left eye. I felt like a freight train ran over my head. I must have screamed out in pain, because ALL of the other kiddos ran into my room to see what happened. I told them all to get.him.out.of.my.room.RIGHT.NOW!!!!!!

They took him out, and then I blacked out. I woke up three hours later.

He hit me so hard I passed out. I’ve NEVER EVER had a kid knock me out before. I guess there’s always a first time for everything.

FYI, the next day I woke up with a black eye that stayed with me for about a week

Ever had something crazy like that happen to you?

lies a truly beautiful girl.

It seems every time the kids talk about Grandma, they do so by asking if she’s passed away yet. Every time they ask about her, I start to cry. Every. Single. Time. The grocery store, in the kitchen. On the way to school. I always cry.

Today we were in the kitchen making dinner and I was doing the dishes between stirring and such. Reagan asked me how Great Grandma was. If she was still sick.

“Baby, she’s never going to get better,” I said, very meekly.
“Never?” she asked.
“Never.”
“I wish I could be grandma,” she said, nonchalantly.

I was shocked. Why in the hell would she want to be bedridden, and feel awful every single moment of every single breath she took.

“No you don’t, baby, Grandma hurts all of the time.”
“Well, if I was Great Grandma, and she was me. She could be free again. She could get up and walk again. She could have fun again. I couldn’t imagine laying in a bed for four years (an exaggeration on her part, but I was totally feeling her at this moment), and never being able to have the freedom to get up and walk away. I want to be Great Grandma so she can be free again.”

Huge giant tears welled up in my eyes (and again are flowing down my cheeks as I type this). Not only did I cry because it sucks losing this wonderful woman in my life, but because maybe, just maybe, I’m helping raise another wonderful woman. The compassion she showed by saying the things she just said, made me love her even more than I already had. It’s moments like these that make all of the moments of drama and tween angst worth it.

On a similar subject, I called my Grandma on mother’s day. she could barely hear me on the phone. She apologized to me for having made me go pick flowers in the snow. I was forewarned she was floating from here and there because my mom had mentioned her saying something about me picking flowers in the snow as well. I told Grandma I loved her, but she couldn’t hear me. I was outside on the phone, almost yelling so she could hear me… and I could hear her fumbling with the phone on the other end.

“-insert name here-, why can’t I hear you, -insert name here- ? Did I lose you, honey? Are you there…. this Dang nabit phone… and these PEOPLE, they just won’t leave me alone…. Are you there? I can’t hear you, -insert name here- .”

I finally yelled very loudly that I loved her, and she heard me.

“I love you very much, -insert name here- .”

Selfishly I felt like my conversation could end. I told her I loved her, and the woman I always looked to for advice confirmed to me that she did indeed love me still. Stupid, I know… but you don’t even understand how much I long to have a real conversation for her again. I’d trade her health for almost anything in the whole world.

I told her I had to go. Listening to her recant about me being in the snow was just too hard to take. I wanted so badly to talk to her about everything that had been going on… but she just isn’t on the same page anymore. A simple I love you was good enough.

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….