I wouldn't call this a pet peeve, it's more of a "WTF is wrong with people" gripe!

So I'm picking up my son from school. Sometimes, this is a twenty minute long process. That is another blog post in itself.... "Shit that happens while I'm waiting in line in my car to pick up my son!" or "Why in the name of testicles does it take twenty minutes to drive around a circle to pick up my son?" or "For fuck's sake, take the child lock off your car when dropping your kids off at school. I can't believe you didn't park your car to let your demons out instead of remaining in the drop-off loop!!". Wow, I get a little side-tracked at times. These are important issues people!

Anyhow... so I'm pulling around the loop and that's when I see it. [First, I'm in Daytona Beach. The land of all things redneck! See below.]

A pick-up truck (a must have for any redneck). On the back of this truck was an airbrushed image. This isn't your typical confederate flag or "Come see what I shot with my hunting rifle" image. This was a full on memorial of so and so who died. I'm not trying to be disrespectful in any way, shape, or form here I promise. I can understand those little decals people put in their car window "In Loving Memory of..." (somewhat). Little decals.

This person full on dedicated their entire tailgate, complete with unicorns, fairies and the like, to this individual. The fuck? Seriously. I wish I had taken a photo of this thing for y'all to see.

Missing someone who has passed is indeed the realm of sad, heart breaking, misery. I get that. I've lost my share of people close to me. Did I go get my car all done up so the person who pulls up next to me at a stop light can roll down his window, Grey Poupon style, to share his condolences?

 

All I'm saying is, why do we need to see your mural? It's distracting. I mean, how am I supposed to text my best girl, file my broken nail, drive AND read your dedication all at the same time? Fucking redneck!

Writer's Workshop - Advice on a Plate!

Dear Mama Kat,

This is only my third time participating in your Writer's Workshop so I'm not sure if I'm allowed to start complaining yet, but the selections are getting harder each week! However, I've out smarted you!!

I turned the question over to my son, Isaac. He's ten. What? The rules didn't say I wasn't allowed!

1.) Share one piece of great advice you’ve received from someone who knows stuff…

On our drive home from work/school I asked Isaac if anyone had ever said something to him that really stuck with him. Like, it mattered so much to him he wanted to scratch himself until he bled. This is what he said all of eighteen seconds later...

"Dad told me last time we ate at Outback (Steakhouse), I should scoop up the mashed potatoes with my steak on every bite. I will never eat it any other way."

?

Not exactly what I had in mind.

It's like 9:30am and I'm craving meat. And no, I'm NOT pregnant!

Here it is, wait for it.... I SAID wait for it.... WORDLESS WEDNESDAY!!

Xavier cuddles up to his uncle whilst standing in line to ride the Haunted Mansion at Disney World on Christmas Eve. He thought it would frighten the innocent bystanders and get us some "cuts" in line.

Sadly, his imitation of Stewie failed miserably.

So where's your post? All the cool people are doing it....

Post It Note Tuesday Bitches!!

When SupahMommy says it's time to put up your Post It notes, you do it. No back talk!

 

 

 

 

 

I love me some Tuesdays....

The Fine Art Of Merging

What kind of merger are you?

How do you handle thee?

Do you glance over your shoulder, get the "all clear", and proceed to the opposite lane? This is how I merge and how the rest of humankind SHOULD merge.

However, this is what I deal with on a day to day basis. The merge sign appears, whether it be on the highway, interstate, back road, whatever.... The person in front of me follows the lane until it's out of breath. No more road. Zilch. Then this person decides that he is the superior driver reining over all other vehicles surrounding him. Yes, he just moves his ass on over without a second thought. Without so much as a fucking pause.

This will anger me until the day I can no longer drive. Don't even get me started on people who should no longer drive! Don't get me started on the people who are entering the interstate and driving at less than 45 miles per hour on the entrance ramp! Then the fucktard performs his so-called "merge" whilst doing said 45 mph, and wonders why in hell's creation I am flipping him off and yelling at him as I pass him by.

I have road rage. Mega-road rage. I've been in two accidents in my 32 years of life. Once I was rear ended and the other I was side swiped. Neither was my fault and the second dude who hit me, didn't have insurance! These incidences have caused me to hate driving to the fullest extent known to man.

For fuck's sake people! You read the driver's manual. You took the test and passed. The rules don't change and you shouldn't change them to fit your comfort zone.

My 15 year old is about to get his permit. He has been told that just because he's "of age" to drive, doesn't mean that he "will" drive. You earn it. Or, you can just relocate here:

When Life Hands You Lemons

An award!! For little 'ole me? 

I obsessively checked my email at the first stop light (praying for red) this morning on my cellphone to find out I've been nominated for the "When Life Hands You Lemons" award by Amber at Beyond Postpartum! I cannot thank her enough. I'm not only talking about the award... but for her blog in general.

When I first discovered I had symptoms of Postpartum Depression, I was knocked over with guilt. It is women like Amber, and blogs like hers, who keep it raw and completely real. Reading her thoughts and musings day in and day out have helped me stay on the surface of reality instead of sinking under water with the sharks!

The rules for this award are simple:

I am to thank the giver of the award and link to their blog (see above).   I am supposed to share 5 things about myself.  And I am supposed to link to 5 new blogging recipients of my choosing and notify them.

Here goes…

#1 - I started this blog because I thought it would help me to deal with my Postpartum Depression. And it has. Tremendously. I have evolved into so much more because of it and this makes me over the top happy. I've always loved to write and am proud to have people who not only "follow" me but who comment on my thoughts as well. Who out there in the blogging world doesn't love a good comment, or four?

#2 - I can bake like a mofo! My father was a baker and ever since I could remember, I have gotten down and dirty with some batter and dough! He used to bring me home the good icings and teach me how to pipe and create roses. If I had it my way, I'd have my own bakery rather than work for someone else!

#3 - I cannot get me enough horror films! The new stuff, not so much. I love the old black and whites. House on Haunted Hill, Night of the Living Dead, House of Wax... and so many more! Vincent Price is genius! I have a huge thing for Rob Zombie and his films also. House of 1000 Corpses, The Devils Rejects, Halloween. He's amazing and the soundtracks he chooses for his films are like peanut butter and jelly.

 

#4 - One time, I screamed so loud, I made a palmetto bug freeze in its tracks. I live in Florida and we have BUGS. Big. Hairy. Flying. Funky-ass. BUGS! "Palmetto bug" is just a fancy shmancy way of saying "Huge Flying Roach". They're hard to kill too. They're big so you don't want to step on 'em. When you spray 'em they run faster. So at my house, we've resorted to covering them up with Tupperware and sucking 'em up with the hose on the vacuum later in the day, or week. Seriously, you could leave a palmetto bug under some Tupperware for two weeks and it will still be just as alive as the day you covered it up. Not so much with a spider...

You didn't think I would upload a picture of a REAL palmetto, did you?

#5 - I have a thing for the old guys in the movie biz. The other day, I Facebooked about Dennis Hopper being on his deathbed and how much I heart him. I got some "ewwwww's" and some "Dude, he's like 73's" but I don't care. I love the guy. I also am head over heals for Ed Harris, Gary Senise, Anthony Hopkins...

Okay secretly, I meant Hannibal Lecter. Shhhh!

Now it's time for me to nominate five of my favorites!!!

Surviving Single Motherhood

Home Is Where The Dog Is

Mommy Needs Therapy... Or A Bottle Of Wine

WYSIWYG

And a new find for me:

The Obnoxious S.A.H.M.

I hope you get a chance to visit these fine bloggers.

xoxo

 

An Ode to Comfort Clothes

After a long day at work, I long to go home and slip into my favorite comfort clothes.

This "I Love NY" shirt was a gift from my husband's cousin after 9/11 occurred. She lives in NYC and ran out to buy every member of the entire family one of these. I've worn it to the point of it being so thin, you can see through it. It's oh so soft and feels like warm sheets right out of the dryer every time I put it on! As of late, it's getting a bit run down. Last time I did the 'ol DIY dye job at home, I wore this, my favorite t-shirt. What the hell was I thinking? I've stained you my darling!

And the pants, oh the pants! I purchased these from Target many years ago. They've always been a bit too long for my 5'3" frame. Notice the cuffs? Yep, totally stained. Makes you wonder where the hell I've been walking, doesn't it? My house is spotless, seriously, it's just age. Like, when someone smokes inside and all the walls get yellow? That's what happened to old blue here! A week ago I ate something orange, which fell upon my poor dear here and... instant stainage! Not even the ever so reliable Spray 'N Wash could handle it. What I meant by that last line was, if I even tried to put Spray 'N Wash on this stain, it would probably burn a hole right through the material. That which remains anyhow. The new hole created by the Spray 'N Wash wouldn't be lonely. Oh no! It would be joined by the hole near the elastic waistband and the one on my ass!

Two nights ago, I was wearing my "at home uniform" and I got hot. Instead of say, putting on a pair of shorts, guess what I did? I rolled the fucking pants up to my knees! Over a period of like, an hour... the rollage began to unravel and I was left with crooked bottoms. I met up with my  husband in the bathroom at some point and he asked me if I was on my way to go clamming! Seriously. I don't know how he stays married to me in this get-up.

On the same eve of his clamming accusation toward me, he told me like it is. "You get one more wash and wear out of these clothes and then they're outta here!" Don't tell him I said this, but he's right. It's time to hold the funeral, or maybe it's just time to convert these pieces into some really snazzy pillows for the living room couch....

Writer's Workshop - 10 Things to stave off boredom

3.) Write a list of 10 things that can be done to stave off boredom

Mama Kat threw out some rather difficult writing prompts this week. Well, each one made me think, like really think. So I chose #3!

Here goes:

#1 - Texting. Sounds boring all by itself, no? Well, then you're not doing it right. My son Jerytt turned 15 this past October. We finally broke down and got him a cell phone. At first, we only got him 200 texts per month with no internet. We quickly were brought to the realization that that wasn't going to work and upped the texts to unlimited and internet access to go with. SO.... now when I'm feeling a little bored during the day, I text Jerytt with completely random messages. Sometimes I'm all "I just saw what you did!" or "You're in trouble for what you are doing right now!" or the other night I simply sent "Loser nut driver head!" Listen, I said these were random messages. I get a laugh out of his responses.

#2 - Cafe World. If you have a Facebook account you're probably blown over by the amount of invites to play this game or that game (Mafia Wars anyone?, uhhhhh... NO!). There are a select few that I actually enjoy and Cafe World is one of them. You get to have a virtual cafe with actual food and you get to pick the decor from simple things like tables and chairs all the way to wicked cool lava lamps and fish tanks. Okay so I'm kind of a dork but hell, I'm on like level 53 or something totally up there like that so don't hate. Sometimes the game becomes overwhelming and I start cooking dishes that take like 2 days to finish or sometimes I'm feeling really devoted and will cook all day long. Yeah, I said I'm a dork.

#3 - Create hidden messages in my infant's blocks to my family members:


Do you see what it says? You have to be open minded and creative and really open your mind's third eye. It reads "Eric is a cow dicky cat frog". You're just jealous that the creativity resides with me.... Eric is the husband and on this particular day, I think I came up with like 3 messages in those blocks for him. This on was photo worthy.

#4 - Facebook. I know I mentioned a Facebook game above but Facebook all by itself is really fun and quite entertaining. I like to comment back to people with totally off the wall responses. One time a friend was saying how tired she was from life in general, being a wife and mother and working full time, blah blah blah... you get the picture. So I recommended polygamy to her. I mean, have you ever watched Big Love on HBO? They so have the right idea on this one. Always having a babysitter and someone to bitch to. What, you don't want to have sex with the husband tonight, send him my way, but just this ONE time... you owe me big!

#5 - Find and remove that pesky hair. You know what I'm talking about. That hair which embeds itself into your bra clasp that is JUST out of reach. When you are finally able to grab that fucker and pull it out it's like the sky opened up and skittles drop down like those old commercials they once had...

#6 - Look at the photos I have stored in my computer. I have a lot of photos. I don't like to have photos professionally done. I like it better when a picture it taken when the subject if off guard, not posed.


That's when the most fun happens.

#7 - Read blogs. I can read blogs from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed. I have an obsession. My husband might call it unhealthy, but I think of all of you as a great audience and I like to be a part of your audience. The first ever blog I fell in love with is written by my childhood friend Naomi and it has blossomed from there. Perhaps one of these days I'll stop reading for a bit and update my list of blogs I read, you know, so you all can check 'em out. You can never read TOO many!

#8 - Eat. Self explanatory.

#9 - Make a plan to satisfy my sweet tooth. This goes hand in hand with #8 you say. It does not. Planning out what delectable treat my taste buds will savor next is an art form (insert sarcasm here) and other times, it is a tragedy.

#10 - Read my email. When in doubt, hit the refresh button. I love email. I love to send it, receive it, read and reread it. I check it on my phone. I check it all day at work. It's so exciting. OH a new blog comment. OH a new blog entry on ___'s blog. OH...OH...OH!!! Email is exhilarating.

There you have it. Sorry if I got a little carried away. Sometimes I don't know whether to be serious in an entry or just really throw myself into it and give you the goods. Go check out Mama Kat's Elevator Pitch entry today, she's knock your underwear into next Thursday funny!

Wordless Wednesday - Light

Xavier sits on his toy car at the open back door. The light pours in and the wind is just subtle enough to make his toes curl under.

Post It Note Tuesday: The Annoyed Edition

I took the day off of work today to drive forty minutes to my baby boy's doctor appointment. He had to be there at 8am. Seriously.

I've earned my post-it bitching for the day. Want to join in? Hop on over to Adventures of a Wanna-Be SupahMommy and figure it out. I'm a Post It Note Tuesday virgin and it was pretty easy to pop this cherry.

I won't stall anymore:

If I actually got some sleep last night, this post would have been much more creative!

Downward Spiral

Nothing like a great NIN song to use as your blog entry for the day...

I hate it when you have something really great and it's taken away. Then, you get it back and it's yanked from your grasp just as quickly as you got it back.

I just had to put that out there.

It brings tears to my eyes and pain in my heart.

I'm suffering from P.H.D.C.B. (Post Hot Dog Consumption Burpage)

Every week I ask all the men in the household to come up with at least one dish they would like me to prepare for dinner the following week. Undoubtedly, Isaac shrieks, "Steak-umms!!" Seriously, I don't even ask him anymore. Simpleton.

I have a pad of paper on the side of our refrigerator that's held up by a magnet so I can jot down what we need from the store as we run out. Last week, I woke up to find an entire list of dinner ideas from my husband. Could he be anymore helpful? It did consist mainly of food you eat off of a roll, but hell, he did it without my asking!

Hot dogs topped the list and who am I to argue? Who doesn't love a good Nathan's hot dog? Sometimes I'll cook up some onions with barbecue sauce, chili, and/or sauerkraut to top the dogs; but tonight these were plain Janes.

Like a dumbass, I decided a coke would go splendidly with my hot dogs and tater tots. Yeah, soda and me equals instant nose burning sensations with every burp. We all know that some foods taste and smell revolting when said gas comes into play. Hot dogs are at the top of this list for me.

P.H.D.C.B. (Post Hot Dog Consumption Burpage) wouldn't be that bad if it weren't for my husband's actions. Every fracking (my new word) time he burps, he insists on blowing on whichever kid is getting on his nerves the most in that moment. Last night, it was Xavier. It's fucking disgusting.

So not only do I have to sit there and taste/smell the nastiness from my P.H.D.C.B. but his to boot. Well not so much the tasting part, but the smell. Oh the smell....

Writer's Workshop - That won't work for me either!

I know I've been making tons of Seinfeld references lately, but the "show about nothing" really relates to many of the happenings in my life.

So you see how George wants to gently suggest that there may have been an overlook in the bread department and Jerry achingly begs him to just let it go? This is how I feel when calling to make an appointment at any doctor's office but more specifically, the pediatrician's office!

I call. I get put on hold. I start "nodding my head like yeaaaaah" (thanks Miley) to the hold music. Eventually, the way grouchy appointment setter picks up the phone and rudely wants to know what the hell I called about. I just want to make a well-baby appointment. Around my schedule.

You see, the appointment setter doesn't want to know why you need the appointment on this or that day. In this or that time slot. You simply have to give it to her straight. Set the rules. When I ask for an appointment on Monday between 9am and when you close the office for three hours so you can have lunch and rudely come back late to kick-start the afternoon's appointments in a tardy-like fashion, I would appreciate it if you would just follow the guidelines I set forth!

Yesterday, I made the dreaded call. On a Monday no less when the rest of the city is phoning in because their child has been sick all weekend. Who the hell am I to call amidst this chaos to make a well-baby appointment, right? I told her what I'd like. Did I get the appointment on Monday between 9am and when they close the office for three hours so they could have lunch and rudely come back late to kick-start the afternoon's appointments in a tardy-like fashion? Nope. I got an appointment on Tuesday at 8am.

Instead of, "No soup for you. Come back... One year!". I got, "You're taking the day off work to bring your son in? How about you still get up at the crack of dawn to mosey on down here and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you in on time. You dumb bitch!"

The prompt I chose: Time for your tangent…what is your latest complaint?

7 Weeks Until Margarita Madness!

I can't believe my little boy is going to be turning a year old in about seven weeks. Something happened in particular a few nights back to kick my brain into realizing this. Xavier decided to try out his new teeth while nursing. OMFG!

It felt like surgery without the anesthesia! It felt like I was in the bathtub and someone decided to throw a toaster at me! It felt like when Gage took the scalpel to Jud Crandall's ankles in Pet Semetary!

Okay, so maybe I'm being a little bit over dramatic. Just slightly. But it really hurt!

Nursing Xavier is an experience I will cherish for the rest of my life. This is the second time I've nursed but the first time only lasted about eight weeks. I just couldn't hack it. With Xavi, I never want it to end. Except that I really, really need a margarita. Have to have a margarita. The mere thought of sipping on a margarita sends chills up my spine.

I've had an occasional glass of wine. Some beer. Lately though it just gives me an instant headache. This better not be the case on the eve of Margarita Madness.

Misery needs company

What is it about misery that makes us crave the company of other, equally miserable beings?

Recently, I Facebook statused (I'm taking credit for this word) that I didn't remember if the everyday cold could invite a diaper and/or facial rash to play with it.

My girl Beth said her daughter also had a rash when she was sick. Her doctor said it was normal but, to get to the point, her gist was, "If it makes you feel better, it happened here also!", and hell yes this made me feel better. Am I selfish like that? No. Because misery needs company.

I need to know I'm not the only woman who complains of her post baby body whilst ceremoniously cramming another cookie into her mouth...

I need to know there are other couples out there who are dedicating all their time to a new baby instead of each other...

I need to warrant my postpartum depressive feelings that sneak their way back into my life even though I thought I suffocated them to their death a long time ago...

I need to know there are others who cannot stand it when while grocery shopping, you'll be looking at something on the shelf and some moron comes along with their cart, stops right in front of where you're looking to either a) ever so slowly grab something from the same shelf or b) talk on their phone, look their list over, you get the idea...

I need to know why it's so hard to listen and actually hear what I am saying the first time I say it! I get angry at repeat number two, but OMG if I have to go a third time; you better listen closely because it will be through gritted teeth...

Have you ever gotten the same response when telling a story if you start off with say, "Hey, good news! I just tried that new restaurant we were talking about...", rather than starting with, "Girl, you are not going to believe this horrible shit I've been aching to tell you....". People tend to lean in a little closer when you're about to gossip. Why? That whole misery needs company thing....

I heart him

My husband, baby boy and I have all been sick. FOR. OVER. A. WEEK. The boy has been sleeping splendidly (knock on wood, please, knock on wood). The husband and I? Not so much. Between running noses and hacking like a lumberjack saws down trees, holy shit! We're constantly waking each other up but funny enough, we're never really mad about it. We always seem to giggle a little bit and attempt another short siesta.

So you know when you've been in a pitch black room long enough to be able to see? Well, not really see clearly but outlines of the room and all? My husband went into the kitchen for something, probably some more meds that don't work, and I was awake but just lying in bed looking around the room with the lights out. A few minutes later I could hear him on his way back into the bedroom, which is right next to the kitchen. I looked over toward the doorway and saw him standing there with his arms stretched out before him, clawing at the air in front of him. You know.... in hopes to not smash his head into a wall or door, or anything for that matter! He finally found his way back into the bedroom but not before I was laughing hysterically at him. It's what I do. He looked like this:



There are moments in my marriage where we're so so so serious. There are moments in my marriage where I'm serious to the point that my husband says I'm not fun anymore. This was fun for me!

Love you babe!

Would you like fries with that?!

My baby boy is still getting over his first cold. It sucks if you really want the truth. Anyway, we ran out of Tylenol and I thought it would be a good idea to exchange some gifts at Target, two birds - one stone. Side note, the greatest time to shop is New Year's Day, completely dead...

I brought my smallest shortie along to get him out of the house plus, he needed a new toy (a rockin' steering wheel gadget). I called the husband from the car to see if he was craving a Big Mac as much as me. Turned out, he wanted some chicken nuggets complete with three containers of sweet and sour sauce. Okay, I can handle that...

I decided to hit the drive-thru. I placed my order, complete with three sweet and sour sauces. The chick loudly and clearly told me the first two were on them but I would have to pay for the third. I agreed and pulled forward without too much thought. Then I got annoyed. Downright livid in fact.

I get to the window to pay and said, "I find it ironic that you'll charge me for that third sauce yet you can never get an order fully correct." Eric was holding on the phone during this little fiasco. He was all, "Now they are gonna spit on our food!" and I'm all, "Nah, it's all about communication. That which is lacking in this fine establishment."

Then I got the food. You know how sometimes in the drive-thru they're like, "We ran outta fries. Pull up and we'll bring your food out."? There was one of 'those' vehicles in front of me as I pulled away... I nearly hit the fucker when I left because these people never drive far enough ahead so that those of is who ordered a Big Mac yet received a Quarter Pounder, can get home to discover it!

I finally got home to find four sauces instead of three, thanks fuckers! Maybe next time I order a large fry, you'll fill it at least 1/2 way?