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...

Awwwww...

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.

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.

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.