February 8, 2009

I am finally back.

So my account has been so inactive for so dang long that my email was dead and I had to reset it. Then I forgot my password. Lordy.

I am back and ready to try to blog everyday to see what I can look back on and remember about these boys.

But here is Teeny Tiny who is honestly not so tiny. He is a whooping 15 lbs at almost 14 weeks this coming Tuesday.

And this is how mad Beebo gets about 102 times a day when he is told no. This usually also includes me getting pelted with whatever toy he can get his hands on fast enough or a round of 'Slap, Slap Baby and Mommy Until Mommy Screams'

As you can see one or the other is always crying. This makes it hard for me to watch my shows. Right now the only drama I have in my life pertains to the Wii and if Beebo turned it off during a game, the 'will I start my period this month?' game and if Bret Micheals is going to chose a woman who is purely plastic surgery gone wrong or a woman who obviously has no morals or boundaries and has no qualms with what America thinks or he could go for the gusto and get a combo of both.

Quite frankly I am worn out. I feel like as soon as I pick it up they will throw it on the floor again anyway so why bother? But then I get into a staring contest with whatever toy, shredded paper, toddler snack or dirty diaper is laying there and I always seem to blink. I was able to pretend it wasn't going on this past 2 weeks off and on because I was sick and hid in my room for fear that I would make one of these boys sick. But when I emerged from my drug induced haze this morning I about lost it.

The trash was overflowing so they started piling it on the kitchen counters. Instead of opening a new pack of paperplates they just dirtied the real plates and piled them on top of the dirty paper plates. Apparently the fact that we are now recycling in our city has nothing to do with anything. They just piled it all up together in front of the back door next to the overflowing trash can. Instead of washing a bottle or baby cup we just got clean ones out until they were all dirty and then opened the pack of new ones I just bought last week. And dirtied those.
This was just the kitchen. I could write a novel about the disaster I awoke to this morning.
Needless to say I hope I never get sick again. If I do, I better go to the hospital and TI better spend some cash on Merry Maids. And they better get the pee droplets from the mystery man who comes and pees on the floor, seat, the bath mats and rim of the toilet.

July 6, 2008

I have a good excuse...I promise!

I know. I have been missing. But honestly I have been busy.

It's hard work to get a promotion, piss off my mother-in-law, throw a shower, plan and go on vacation, and maintain 3 1/2 boys one of which has decided it is time to be demanding and mobile (not always The Idiot-but he adds to the situation).

First off, I got a promotion. There is a long story behind it but basically I was stuck where I was because there was no place for me to go. But I know you are all dying to get to the pissing off the MIL part so I will skip ahead.

So we went on the 19th to get our anatomy ultrasound. The Idiot was less than ecstatic. I think the ultrasounds make it more real to him, thus triggering another stroke (let's hope not). I already had our pregnancy announcements printed and ready to go. We told the ultrasound tech we weren't sure if we wanted to know so I asked her to write it down and we would decide later.
The ultrasound tech put the wand on my belly at the top and measured the legs and I could see his boy pieces. I asked The Idiot if he saw it and he said he had no idea what he was looking at. I am sure he can't recognize his own man bits on a blurry screen so it really didn't surprise me.
The tech also tried to tell me my boy was the size of a soda can. BULL! I look bigger than my SIL who is due a week from today and I still have 4 months to go. The Idiot keeps looking at me, scoffs and turns away. I am guessing he is getting pretty worried as the days progress.
We hot footed it to Walmart and copied a 3D picture of his face to put in the pregnancy announcements and he took them to the post office. I wanted everyone to get the news before my SIL's shower at my house on the 21st. Plan was successful and mission accomplished.
Oh was the MIL mad. She called my BIL while I was on the phone with my SIL and I listened to her on speaker phone talk and talk about how our newest addition is surely "an accident" and how her youngest was an accident and my BIL told her it didn't matter. It was still a person and she was being silly. I didn't add the fact that we were having a boy to the announcement because we didn't know until right before I mailed them off. So he asked her if she knew and she said no and he said oh. And then my SIL started talking to me again.
So I was tired and ready to sleep for the shower the next day and the MIL decides that 10:30pm is the opportune time to call and let us know via voicemail that she knows I am having twins. She said she could see feet and hands and another head (I am sure she could see Moses and Jimmy Hendrix partying in the picture too considering all of the meds she is on). I just erased the message and went back to bed. The Idiot was already asleep.
Next day she waits until 2 hours before the shower to call TI's cell and bug him about it. Thus getting him upset which makes me upset. I have realized that she really pisses me off when she gets her sons worked up. So I told my SIL that I was going to let her have it when she talked to me. But I wouldn't ruin her shower, I was just going to make her shut-up before it really started.
The scene, I am sitting on the kitchen floor trying like hell to get Beebo to eat before he took off with Dad and his Uncle for a day away from the guys and she walk in and says, "Well I guess I should say congratulations..." I retorted, "Yeah right!" She had an aghast look on her face and I went off.
"First of all you will not come in my house and talk shit about me or YOUR grandchildren. All children are blessings. There are several people in the world who cannot have children and those that try like hell to have children and just can't. If you do not want anything to do with YOUR grandchildren then don't bother seeing them anymore. And don't you dare say any of my children are accidents...they are people and they have feelings and when they are old enough to realize how ignorant it is to call them an accident I am sure as shit they won't want anything to do with you either."
"All of my boys are accidents so I don't see the problem."
"If you want to continue to tell them they are accidents and make them feel like shit and unwanted that is on you but don't you ever, ever call my kids accidents."
"Well, I guess you told me."
"No, I am stating a fact. And our methods of birth control including our sex life are absolutely none of her business."
I haven't talked to her since. She did go tell my FIL and other BIL that I am a terrible bitch and I just don't like her because I keep my house perfect and hers is a hellhole. TI won't let the boys go over there. She has a litter box in every room in her mother's house and it is disgusting. There is cat poo and pee and hoarf and vomit all over mixed in with the litter they kick out of the boxes all over the floor. It is not my fault she is a crazy, filthy, dirty cat lady. Her fingernails are black underneath like she works on cars all day. And she doesn't!
She also keeps telling everyone that she will be in the delivery room when my SIL goes into labor again this month. Is she in for the surprise of her life!
Damit! I had alot more to say and my computer went offline and didn't save. I will post more tomorrow. I need sleepy...

May 15, 2008


A smile like this makes it all worthwhile. My dad took this picture of Beebo laughing at my mother on Mother's Day and I love it. I hope Teeny Tiny is as personable.


The people I have told this story to think it is hilarious. But try being pregnant with a 7 month old and a 7 year old and a husband who acts like a 7 year old then you would be tired too!

I was on my way to work and my friend called me to ask me where my son was (I drop off Baboo at her house to catch the bus for school). I told her about his lasted affliction (poison something or other) and that he couldn’t go to school. We talked as I dropped Beebo off at his caregiver and went on my way to work. I sat in the car and we talked for a minute. I told her I had to go and she said, “WAIT!” So I sat there and she said she would see me later so I said, “Bye” again and she said, “I’m not talking to you.”

So I asked, “Who are you talking to?”

She said, “What?” (I swear I thought I was in a weird rendition of “Who’s on First?”)

But eventually I got off the phone and went to work in the Land of the Dense.

I puttered away 9 hours of my life and was ready to run at 4:30. My boss walked up to my doorway and started telling me about this and that for tomorrow’s schedule and I lost track of what he was saying because I wasn’t able to find my keys in the bottom of my purse. I murmured my responses to him and he nodded and went about his business.

I then dumped my purse on my desk to weed through the gum wrappers and tampons (why in the hell are those still in there), receipts and pens and found no keys.

So I looked in my desk drawers and pockets of my jacket and my sweater. NOTHING!

So I wondered to the bathroom thinking I put them in my pocket and they fell out on one of my many bathroom visits and they weren’t there.

So I figured they were laying in the car seat because I missed my purse when I went to drop them in.

I went out to my car and opened the car door and was nearly knocked over by the heat that radiated out of the car. I looked inside and the thermostat on the dash said 102. I looked around for my keys and saw they were in the ignition. I then went to turn on my car to get the AC going to get rid of the heat.

This is how slooooow I am.

First of all, I should have realized the thermostat can’t be read unless the car is running.
Second, the car was so hot because the defrost was on high heat when I got out of the car.
Third, the radio was playing.

Needless to say I left my keys in the ignition with the car running for 9 ½ hours with gas nearly $ 4.00 gallon! I almost cried. No one noticed. Not the guy who parked next to me (he could have and just not said anything- to me he is that guy at work that makes you wonder). Not anyone parked around me.

I can’t wait to sleep again. I guess I can in about 10 years.

April 14, 2008

Week 12...2 weeks until I am in the clear!!!

I have recently started a new affair with Jack-in-the-Box Grilled Chicken Clubs. OMG! So good. I get them without cheese or mayo but they are simply to die for. I really was not digging chicken these first couple of months but now I am down. But I will still eat Lion's Choice everyday if I could. Maybe I could switch it up with Jack-in-the-Box one day and Lion's Choice the next.

I feel like I am going to explode out of my drawers! I have a Bella Band on today and I hate it. I have come to my 'simply impossible to be comfortable unless you are wearing yoga pants and a huge tee' stage. I did go to the bathroom earlier and only then was I able to button and clasp my pants! But it was pretty pointless because then my fat gets shoved above the waist of my pants and I then look like a backwards camel with 2 humps up front. If only I could shove it all in my bra!

My SIL and my mother told me I look pregnant. Great...All I need now is to have my MIL insist I am getting fat and then life will be officially miserable. My BIL assured me that I am 'still pretty stretched out' so he is not surprised. Thanks. As if I don't have enough image problems.

We had birthday party for Baboo this weekend and it was sucessful. Only a few nasty comments from the MIL but other than that it was nice. I just wanted to share one of her comments.

Scene: The Idiot and I are standing at the concession stand at our local bowling alley to turn in the kiddos drink orders and MIL shuffles up.

MIL:" So how much does this all cost?"

Me: " Why does it matter? You can't buy it on clearance at Costco so who cares!"

The Idiot: HAHAHA

Much later to my poor unsuspecting 'rents:

MIL: "That rattle used to be The Idiot's so I gave it to them for Beebo. But I didn't buy it at Costco."

My mother was WTFing and my polite father who can't hear, asked her to repeat because of course he didn't hear (I don't see how...she has Rush Limbaugh's deafness from her painkillers addiction and yells at everyone). So she repeated it. I then had to explain to my mother what her idiot comment was about.

I just hope to hide this pregnancy from her as long as possible because she thinks she has to rub your belly as you get bigger. Like shining a bowling ball. Honestly she is the only nutcase to do that. I have to sit there and let it happen for fear The Idiot will be upset with me for not cooperating with her wants and needs (because she is the one who will be uncomfortable for 9 months and her needs are most important). She also likes to stab your baby-incubator with her kitty-litter encrusted fingers. As if it isn't uncomfortable because it's stretched taut that she has to cause you more pain by shoving her dirty long fingernail in your gut.

I am really dreading the day we tell her anything. She was so mad at me for not finding out the gender that she will be on me again this time.

A conversation last September:

MIL: How far along are you?

TI: She is 9 months.

MIL: No she is not.

TI: How far along are you?

Me: 9 months.

MIL: No you are not.

TI and BIL: You are pregnant 10 months, Mom. 40 weeks. 40 weeks is 10 months.

MIL: I don't know where you get your information from!

TI: The doctor.

MIL: Well it must be a man because you are actually pregnant 11 months.

Me: (thinking to myself WTF???? Is she really this crazy and what have I gotten myself into!)

TI: No Mom, you are wrong.

MIL: I would think I would know since I had 3 kids. (While I am standing there) She only has one and she is probably lying about anything that has to do with him. (then to me) What are you going to name that baby?

Me: I don't know we don't even know if we are having a boy or girl.

MIL: Bullshit! You know and you just won't tell me! You are probably going to name that baby Shitpot just to embarrass me!

Me: You're right! I can't name the baby something normal because I named my first Pisspot so they have to match right?

The Idiot was so upset that he actually considered calling her and telling her Shitpot was here if she wanted to visit. I made the phone call to my FIL who relayed the information. But she informed The Idiot the other day that she doesn't remember going to the hospital to see Beebo. I was thinking of convincing The Idiot that we could just pretend like we told her and then when she comes to realize it we just tell her we told her and she forgot!

I think I will just wear parkas for the duration of the summer, sit in my closet, and avoid anything that requires visiting with the out-laws.

April 10, 2008


I got The Idiot a doctor appointment against his own will and had my mother take him to make sure he goes. He hasn't seen the doctor since Beebo was born.

So the doctor has him taking the blood pressure meds that he should have been taking all this time. His blood pressure was on the high side so that's why. He needs to take care of himself because now he has 4 people counting on him! Plus his mom. She might need him to come change her 15 cat boxes.

I just can't get over the fact that he is so unbelievably stubborn.

April 8, 2008

What is the world coming to?

I think Beebo has an earache. He will be asleep and all of a sudden he stiffens his body, screams and starts scratching his face. Right next to his ears. I am taking him tomorrow to find out. Poor guy. His face is worse now than it was in the previous pictures. So so sad. But he is as happy as can be.

Baboo is doing so well on his meds that it is unbelievable! We have had only one problem we have had since he started and it wasn’t even his fault.

The schools in our area have a NO FIGHTING policy. If a child picks a fight with another child and it gets physical everyone is to blame. Apparently there is a rugrat on his bus that is a constant trouble maker and has it out for Baboo. His ‘4th grade guardian’ wasn’t on the bus to block him in and he meandered back to Baboo’s seat and started hitting him. So Baboo fought back.

Now luckily the principal caught my husband on the phone at home and not me. The first thing I thought of was FIGHT OR FLIGHT.

I found this:

What is the "fight or flight response?"
This fundamental physiologic response forms the foundation of modern day stress medicine. The "fight or flight response" is our body's primitive, automatic, inborn response that prepares the body to "fight" or "flee" from perceived attack, harm or threat to our survival.

Interesting…I wonder what else it says.

What happens to us when we are under excessive stress?

When we experience excessive stress—whether from internal worry or external circumstance—a bodily reaction is triggered, called the "fight or flight" response. Originally discovered by the great Harvard physiologist Walter Cannon, this response is hard-wired into our brains and represents a genetic wisdom designed to protect us from bodily harm. This response actually corresponds to an area of our brain called the hypothalamus, which—when stimulated—initiates a sequence of nerve cell firing and chemical release that prepares our body for running or fighting.

What are the signs that our fight or flight response has been stimulated (activated)?

When our fight or flight response is activated, sequences of nerve cell firing occur and chemicals like adrenaline, noradrenalin and cortisol are released into our bloodstream. These patterns of nerve cell firing and chemical release cause our body to undergo a series of very dramatic changes. Our respiratory rate increases. Blood is shunted away from our digestive tract and directed into our muscles and limbs, which require extra energy and fuel for running and fighting. Our pupils dilate. Our awareness intensifies. Our sight sharpens. Our impulses quicken. Our perception of pain diminishes. Our immune system mobilizes with increased activation. We become prepared—physically and psychologically—for fight or flight. We scan and search our environment, "looking for the enemy."

When our fight or flight system is activated, we tend to perceive everything in our environment as a possible threat to our survival. By its very nature, the fight or flight system bypasses our rational mind—where our more well thought out beliefs exist—and moves us into "attack" mode. This state of alert causes us to perceive almost everything in our world as a possible threat to our survival. As such, we tend to see everyone and everything as a possible enemy. Like airport security during a terrorist threat, we are on the look out for every possible danger. We may overreact to the slightest comment. Our fear is exaggerated. Our thinking is distorted. We see everything through the filter of possible danger. We narrow our focus to those things that can harm us. Fear becomes the lens through which we see the world.

We can begin to see how it is almost impossible to cultivate positive attitudes and beliefs when we are stuck in survival mode. Our heart is not open. Our rational mind is disengaged. Our consciousness is focused on fear, not love. Making clear choices and recognizing the consequences of those choices is unfeasible. We are focused on short-term survival, not the long-term consequences of our beliefs and choices. When we are overwhelmed with excessive stress, our life becomes a series of short-term emergencies. We lose the ability to relax and enjoy the moment. We live from crisis to crisis, with no relief in sight. Burnout is inevitable. This burnout is what usually provides the motivation to change our lives for the better. We are propelled to step back and look at the big picture of our lives—forcing us to examine our beliefs, our values and our goals.

What is our fight or flight system designed to protect us from?

Our fight or flight response is designed to protect us from the proverbial saber tooth tigers that once lurked in the woods and fields around us, threatening our physical survival. At times when our actual physical survival is threatened, there is no greater response to have on our side. When activated, the fight or flight response causes a surge of adrenaline and other stress hormones to pump through our body. This surge is the force responsible for mothers lifting cars off their trapped children and for firemen heroically running into blazing houses to save endangered victims. The surge of adrenaline imbues us with heroism and courage at times when we are called upon to protect and defend the lives and values we cherish.
Once it has been triggered, what is the natural conclusion of our fight or flight response?
By its very design, the fight or flight response leads us to fight or to flee—both creating immense amounts of muscle movement and physical exertion. This physical activity effectively metabolizes the stress hormones released as a result of the activation of our fight or flight response. Once the fighting is over, and the threat—which triggered the response—has been eliminated, our body and mind return to a state of calm.

Now I know that it is not the principal’s fault. She didn’t make up the rule. I will give her a small break and that is hard for me because I am a realist. I don't expect children to be robots but I do expect them to follow rules within reason for their age. But is he really supposed to sit there and let the kid pound on him and wait until the inattentive bus driver realized what was going on? I guess you can deny the science of our bodies and punish involuntary reactions. It's not like he could flee!

All I know is that Baboo is lucky that she didn’t get a hold of me. I think I will let her know Thursday at his Spring Concert about how I feel. Or email her and the school superintendent the ‘fight or flight’ info. It’s ridiculous. We told Baboo that if someone attacks or hits him he has a right to fight back and he scraps every now and then but never, ever will he hit a girl. I refuse to raise children that can’t stick up for themselves or lack free-thinking. I think the kid was actually older than him too. Poor guy.

April 1, 2008


Well, Sunday night it hit me. I am pregnant AGAIN! It was so overwhelming I hid in my bathroom and cried a little (all the while Baboo beat on the door). It's pretty scary right now because I can't even keep track of my cat who has been missing since Easter and now I have another kid to take care of in 7 months.

And forget about taking care of myself! My legs are so hairy that I am scared to wear capris for fear that someone will call animal control on me and have me hauled off. Half the time I want to eat but once it's in front of me I just can't do it. I just can't eat it or I nibble. I know the baby is fine. I sit at a desk all day at work. I am not using any calories.

Do not get me wrong... I love my kids. I just feel a little overwhelmed right now. And hiding the pregnancy from the bosses, the hens at work and the out-laws makes me on edge too. My boss comes in and sits down and asks me what is going on and why I am so quiet all the time. I just shrug my shoulders. Scared to even open my mouth. As if I would blurt it out. I want to. My boss and I have known each other for about 11 years. I just don't want to say anything before I know that truly, everything is ok.

Call me crazy...

March 29, 2008


I fixed Beebo's ticker so it's right now.

March 24, 2008

The 3 Princesses

Once upon a time, in a time far, far away, there were 3 princesses who worked together at a fast food establishment. The oldest and the youngest were related. The middle princess was the silly one who is over-protective. They worked for the grumpy, male-chauvinist, pedophile Prince Dirty who liked little girls. He was always mean to one of the girls and pretty neutral to another but he wouldn’t leave the tiniest princess alone. He was always trying to get her to go to his parent’s castle, tried to get her to go swimming and would call her and leave her dirty nasty messages that would make her ears bleed (never mind the fact she was barfing because he was 10 years older then her and that was old back then). He tried to lure her with alcohol, partying and promises of rocking her world (puke!). He sported a mullet of sorts. Similar to this.
He had ears that could get him home to his emergency keys if he was ever locked out of his car or to Florida for a vacation, which ever came first. He had a big nasty mole right on his cheek that the princesses stared at whenever he talked. He also supported a full lip Hitler moustache.

The princesses didn’t know they had rights at this time and decided to let it be because they were young and no one would probably listen to them or respect them enough to listen (Law and Order SVU wasn’t running then to give them any ideas). But it became too much to bear and they got together and plotted against the evil Prince Dirty.

One night, very late, the princesses decided they were fed up with the ass-grabbing and the phone calls and the floor scrubbin’ and they went to Prince Dirty’s parent’s castle (while he was out fighting dragons in the drive-thru). See Prince Dirty gave the tiniest princess the address during one of his late night drunk calls. The princesses ran around the yard and stuck sanitary napkins covered in ketchup all over the trees in his yard (it looked like someone went white dove hunting), ketchup packets, and trash and threw toilet paper everywhere. One princess decided she would also leave a stinky present on the driveway for Prince Dirty. All the while the princesses were giggling and laughing hysterically.

The princesses went home and collapsed into a fit of giggles at what he would find.

The next day mean Prince Dirty was ranting and raving about how someone pooped on his driveway. The princesses held it together when a co-worker asked him if it was his dog. He swore it wasn’t his dog because a) his dog wouldn’t do that and b) it was people poo! He couldn’t believe that someone shit on his driveway. And he showed everyone pictures of the poo.

I hope the caca on his daddy’s driveway disrupts him to this very day or his perverted ass is in jail.

Stupid evil prince…