The Prequel:
Ta-da! I changed the look around here. I was going for a ‘now-that-it’s-spring-pastel’ look and instead it kinda looks like a ghetto easter egg vomited all over. Oh well, I’ll worry about that later.
Item the first:
How come you always read these stories in the paper of some dentist that was caught doing work out of the back of his van behind the strip mall but you can’t ever find him when you need him? Answer me that! I am 28 years old and I have wisdom teeth coming in! WTF? I have one that is fully crowned and one that is popping. Now I know how the kiddo feels when these boogers come in. And I thought I had them removed already so I was especially shocked. But I called my oral surgeon (from 10 years ago) and the only removed one, not all. And the kicker…? I don’t have dental insurance. I work for a dental company but their insurance sucks and so since I have good teeth I only got medical, not dental coverage. That’s some Murphy’s Law right there.
Number deux:
Speaking of the kiddo and teething… she has been rancid lately! Just wicked, wicked crabby! Holy cow man, she learned this fake crying thing and she does that like only every 5 minutes. Ha-ha. And last night I wouldn’t give her more ketchup (um, probably because she wasn’t even dipping her fries in it but rather scooping it up with her fingers and eating it all) and she had a major freak out screaming crying fit. Is this all normal 17-month-old baby issues or is she rebelling early? Also, she has horrible diaper rash right now. So bad so that I invented the redneck diaper. That’s where I duct taped a cloth diaper to her booty so she can get some air in there (hence the photo). I know. I’m brilliant.
Thirdly:
Speaking of crabby… I have a cold. And it’s cool and all, I’m a big girl, I can deal with it. (Except for at night. Oh my goodness, is that not the worst. It’s punishment I swear. You can’t breath and you wake up feeling not so refreshed with a nose full ‘o snot and sandpaper mouth.) But my job requires that I talk on the phone all day every day and there’s really no exception for those of us who are so hoarse we sounds like a frog. Croak! All my customer say “you sound horrible, you should be at home”. Do you think if I had nay PTO left I would still be blowing snot all over my desk? Um, negative. And the Hubby has it too but the kid doesn’t. That scares me because A) she’ll get and be even more crabby or B) she’ll get it after I’m better and we’ll pass it back and forth for a month. Ick, no thanks to both.
And lastly:
I just found out my Mommy is coming to visit! For two weeks. (So, if you could see the look on my face, which it’s too bad you can’t; it looks a little like a polite smile crossed with eyes rolling and you can see the steam coming out of my ears). I love my Mom, I really do, but man…two weeks is like the longest I have ever spent with her in almost 10 years. My sister thinks I moved 1,500 miles away for a reason. Even when the baby bug was born she only came for a week and that was when we had the bigger house. Now we live in a shoe box and (AND) Brandon is home all day. (You should see the face he’s making). So, we’ve already got lots of fun stuff planned like the zoo and antiquing but I’m going to tell my mother in law that my mom is staying with her. What?! They’re a match made in heaven. The two of them can sleep in till 2pm, drink a gallon of coffee whilst smoking a carton a carton of cigs before heading off to the bingo hall to bitch about their children. Perfect.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Welcome Back
If there is anyone left reading this I’m sorry to say but this post isn’t going to be any good. I KNOW I am going to ramble and wonder and digress and maybe even babble so you can’t say I didn't warn you. This concludes your warning, so on with the crap!
My lack of access to the internet is really affecting me! Since I’ve been cut off I obviously haven’t kept up with MY blogs, and by this I mean all the peeps I read on a daily basis. It’s sad really. I check in once and awhile but I feel I’m missing so much. Is that pathetic? I miss you internet and I don’t care who knows! Secondly, it has also affected my inspiration. When I don’t read other great blogs I feel less inspired to dribble about on mine. I’ve also had to face the fact that I’m afraid of said inspiration.
Let’s back up shall we?
I’ve been depressed. Hey – who hasn’t right? Join the club girlfriend, sheesh!
No, but I actually went to my doctor and got me some meds. It was scaaaaarrrrryyy. I had a friend talk me up about first. I mean in order to get drugs you have to first admit to yourself that you do need them and then you have to tell others. Aahhhhhhhhh! Others! My husband was the worst. "Hey Honey, I know your ex wife went on anti-depressants and then left you but I really think I need them because we’ve been fighting daily and I cannot stop crying for the life of me. Whadda ya think?" Ha!
So for those of you who read my first couple posts you know that Hubby was supposed to join the National Guard right. And so we had to hurry up and get married you see. And we moved in to a really uber small apartment because we thought it was just going to be the kid and me for a few months right. And we thought we were going to be getting a 20,000-dollar enlistment bonus soon to get us out of this hole and we borrowed money from our parents for said shotgun wedding and (inhale) that will teach us to do anymore thinking. Hubby ended up getting denied. SO… we submitted waivers and wrote letters to the governor and reopened court cases to get charges amended (like his DUI) and re-applied and held our breath. And after awhile when he didn’t hear back from his recruiter he called another recruiter at the office and it went a little something like this: "Hi, I’m checking on my application because my recruiter won’t call me back". "Well sir it says here in the computer that your application to join was denied a week ago. Sorry. Try back in a year". That was a fun night in our house. That was in January. In the meantime he’s been a stay at home Dad since we already pulled the kid out of daycare to save money before he left. I hate it. I’m the one that was supposed to stay home with my baby dammit!
Ok, so I’m adjusting to seeing my husband all the time whereas I had mentally prepared myself to not see him for 4 months and I got my family breathing down my neck on every phone call ‘when’s he gonna find a job?’, and we’re piss poor and we’re sharing one car and I have to tell everybody that no, he’s not leaving now and yes, I’m the one who works and yes, I’m just fricking fine with all of this.
Not! It’s frustrating. It sucks. I want my old life back. I want to crawl in a hole and cry 24/7, but I can’t and so since I can’t stop the crying I do it anyway and people look sideways at me as I swear that really I’m fine. Normal people cry at their desk all day right? Oh, and it’s winter in Wisconsin so guess how much fresh air and sunlight I’m getting? And I’ll tell ya another thing, I ain’t losing any weight during any of this either!
So, I’ve been on meds for about 6-7 weeks now and I’m feeling much better. Hubby and I went to Las Vegas 2 weeks ago with our tax money (more on that in another post) and we are doing much better. It’s getting in the 40’s during the day so it’s a damn heat wave and I can get outside once and awhile. In other words, I can see some light at the end of tunnel. It’s up there somewhere. Hubby is still looking for a job but I’m not breathing down his neck anymore because – hey who knows of any time that that has ever worked on a man and also then we’d have to find and pay for daycare and baby bug wouldn't get to stay in her pj’s all day long! Lookee I am an optimist after all.
It’s silly but I have John (this guy) to thank for blogging again. I had given up writing because it was too painful. It hurt just to be me, let alone talk about being me. But yesterday I googled Dr Frank Spears (cause it was work related and I can do that boring crap on the internet) and it lead me to his blog and I was all ‘so, the internet IS still out there’ and ‘I didn’t know dentists were real people’, [j/k] but if he can blog about work, family, life (isn’t that what all blogging is about) then by-golly I can get back on that horse too. So, thanks. I owe lots of thanks, to many people, but for right now, thank you oh-holy-blog-of-pouring-my-life-out-on-virtual-paper-if-for-nothing-other-than-for-therapeutic-value. I needed this.
My lack of access to the internet is really affecting me! Since I’ve been cut off I obviously haven’t kept up with MY blogs, and by this I mean all the peeps I read on a daily basis. It’s sad really. I check in once and awhile but I feel I’m missing so much. Is that pathetic? I miss you internet and I don’t care who knows! Secondly, it has also affected my inspiration. When I don’t read other great blogs I feel less inspired to dribble about on mine. I’ve also had to face the fact that I’m afraid of said inspiration.
Let’s back up shall we?
I’ve been depressed. Hey – who hasn’t right? Join the club girlfriend, sheesh!
No, but I actually went to my doctor and got me some meds. It was scaaaaarrrrryyy. I had a friend talk me up about first. I mean in order to get drugs you have to first admit to yourself that you do need them and then you have to tell others. Aahhhhhhhhh! Others! My husband was the worst. "Hey Honey, I know your ex wife went on anti-depressants and then left you but I really think I need them because we’ve been fighting daily and I cannot stop crying for the life of me. Whadda ya think?" Ha!
So for those of you who read my first couple posts you know that Hubby was supposed to join the National Guard right. And so we had to hurry up and get married you see. And we moved in to a really uber small apartment because we thought it was just going to be the kid and me for a few months right. And we thought we were going to be getting a 20,000-dollar enlistment bonus soon to get us out of this hole and we borrowed money from our parents for said shotgun wedding and (inhale) that will teach us to do anymore thinking. Hubby ended up getting denied. SO… we submitted waivers and wrote letters to the governor and reopened court cases to get charges amended (like his DUI) and re-applied and held our breath. And after awhile when he didn’t hear back from his recruiter he called another recruiter at the office and it went a little something like this: "Hi, I’m checking on my application because my recruiter won’t call me back". "Well sir it says here in the computer that your application to join was denied a week ago. Sorry. Try back in a year". That was a fun night in our house. That was in January. In the meantime he’s been a stay at home Dad since we already pulled the kid out of daycare to save money before he left. I hate it. I’m the one that was supposed to stay home with my baby dammit!
Ok, so I’m adjusting to seeing my husband all the time whereas I had mentally prepared myself to not see him for 4 months and I got my family breathing down my neck on every phone call ‘when’s he gonna find a job?’, and we’re piss poor and we’re sharing one car and I have to tell everybody that no, he’s not leaving now and yes, I’m the one who works and yes, I’m just fricking fine with all of this.
Not! It’s frustrating. It sucks. I want my old life back. I want to crawl in a hole and cry 24/7, but I can’t and so since I can’t stop the crying I do it anyway and people look sideways at me as I swear that really I’m fine. Normal people cry at their desk all day right? Oh, and it’s winter in Wisconsin so guess how much fresh air and sunlight I’m getting? And I’ll tell ya another thing, I ain’t losing any weight during any of this either!
So, I’ve been on meds for about 6-7 weeks now and I’m feeling much better. Hubby and I went to Las Vegas 2 weeks ago with our tax money (more on that in another post) and we are doing much better. It’s getting in the 40’s during the day so it’s a damn heat wave and I can get outside once and awhile. In other words, I can see some light at the end of tunnel. It’s up there somewhere. Hubby is still looking for a job but I’m not breathing down his neck anymore because – hey who knows of any time that that has ever worked on a man and also then we’d have to find and pay for daycare and baby bug wouldn't get to stay in her pj’s all day long! Lookee I am an optimist after all.
It’s silly but I have John (this guy) to thank for blogging again. I had given up writing because it was too painful. It hurt just to be me, let alone talk about being me. But yesterday I googled Dr Frank Spears (cause it was work related and I can do that boring crap on the internet) and it lead me to his blog and I was all ‘so, the internet IS still out there’ and ‘I didn’t know dentists were real people’, [j/k] but if he can blog about work, family, life (isn’t that what all blogging is about) then by-golly I can get back on that horse too. So, thanks. I owe lots of thanks, to many people, but for right now, thank you oh-holy-blog-of-pouring-my-life-out-on-virtual-paper-if-for-nothing-other-than-for-therapeutic-value. I needed this.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
2/1 Utilities Included
Our apartment is still what I’d call “new” to us. We only just moved in August from a house that we’d previously lived in for 19 months. Our old house in the country was the place I brought my baby home to. It was where we lived when I got pregnant and it was where we had a yard and had bon fires and raised pigs. It was “our” home. And I hated it! Yes, we are renters so I knew it was only temporary but for some reason we couldn’t ever leave there. We didn’t have a lease and we didn’t have anywhere else more pressing to be. We talked constantly about moving from there. I told people we were looking all the time. It got to the point where they would all just nod and smile at me like the little girl who cried wolf. It wasn’t until Hubby decided to join the Guard that we got serious. Our landlord hated us, of this I’m sure, and couldn’t have been more glad to receive our notice. We’d found the perfect apartment right up the road and were excited to move. Note: I did not say “pack”. When you are a packrat, that’s the part you dread. However, when our dream apartment fell through (read shit bag new landlords who decide to take other applicants before you give them money) we were how you say “up shits creek without a paddle”. I read the paper every day and called on millions of apartments. It would have been easy to find another place to move to if we didn’t have an obese dog and cat to try to explain, “No really he is a lap dog!” and had to stay in a specific area of town to stay close to our babysitter. Oh, and a budget of course.
So, as the days ticked down until we had to move, the stress went up. I was muddled in panic. The prospect of moving in with my mother in law or to a curbside box was near. Then one day I read an ad in the tiny town flier for an upstairs apartment downtown for rent. I went and looked at it the next day. She could have just told me about it over the phone for all I cared. I knew we had to have it, I knew it was our only option. Hubby did not go with me to the viewing. I was there for a total of 60 seconds before I handed her a wad of cash to be considered our security deposit and left with key in hand.
Now, as you are saying to yourself right now and as I should have thought, “This cannot be good”.
It’s not.
The other night; in the middle of the night; we heard the strangest noise. Like a recording of a train almost. It woke both of us up so Hubby got up to look out the window and check it out. It was some special dipshit with his hot rod on the street that had a car horn that sounded like a train and kept honking it. Wow. I love punks. This is almost as good as living directly across the road from a dairy processing plant. I have no idea what they do there, there are the size of a regular house and are located on a city block but there are always one or two semi trucks parked on the street that start up in the middle of the night just to let the engine idle. Or, you know, whatever it is that semi’s do when they just sit there and run and sound annoying as hell. I guess I don’t hang out around enough truck stops to know this one yet.
Our heat is controlled by the lady below us, the same lady (herein referred to as Looney Bin) who gets fall down drunk on a daily basis and listens to her TV at max volume as to cover up the yap of her pint sized shit machine that never shuts up. I’m surprised we have heat at all. I imagine it’s nice and toasty when you fall asleep fully dressed on your couch at 7:00pm. I can only tell when she’s awake by the plume of cigarette smoke that billows up the heat vent when she awakes at 4:00am. Yum.
There’s the neighbor across the street that holds a bi-weekly White Trash Of America meeting in his garage listening to 80’s metal while drinking beer all night (the same man who whistled and cooed and my mother in law one day when she came over). Also the same guy who woke my kid up at 2:30 am after having the cops called on him for a domestic dispute on the lawn with his wife.
There are feral neighbor cats that cry and fight at all hours of the night. In our yard.
Looney Bin shovels her snow behind our car!
Our screen door does not shut all the way. It slams and bangs in the wind every night. Our “front” (read: ONLY) door is downstairs. You must open it and immediately walk up another flight of stairs, through a baby gate to get in to the place.
The porch light is wired to the hallway light. Both must be on together. No either/or. Speaking of wiring! All outlets are on one circuit. If you want to have the air conditioner or the heater or the blow dryer or the microwave on you must first make sure every other light is off or they will pop and you will have to go outside, downstairs and around the house, pass the yapping dog to the circuit breaker to reset it.
What was I thinking?????????
So, as the days ticked down until we had to move, the stress went up. I was muddled in panic. The prospect of moving in with my mother in law or to a curbside box was near. Then one day I read an ad in the tiny town flier for an upstairs apartment downtown for rent. I went and looked at it the next day. She could have just told me about it over the phone for all I cared. I knew we had to have it, I knew it was our only option. Hubby did not go with me to the viewing. I was there for a total of 60 seconds before I handed her a wad of cash to be considered our security deposit and left with key in hand.
Now, as you are saying to yourself right now and as I should have thought, “This cannot be good”.
It’s not.
The other night; in the middle of the night; we heard the strangest noise. Like a recording of a train almost. It woke both of us up so Hubby got up to look out the window and check it out. It was some special dipshit with his hot rod on the street that had a car horn that sounded like a train and kept honking it. Wow. I love punks. This is almost as good as living directly across the road from a dairy processing plant. I have no idea what they do there, there are the size of a regular house and are located on a city block but there are always one or two semi trucks parked on the street that start up in the middle of the night just to let the engine idle. Or, you know, whatever it is that semi’s do when they just sit there and run and sound annoying as hell. I guess I don’t hang out around enough truck stops to know this one yet.
Our heat is controlled by the lady below us, the same lady (herein referred to as Looney Bin) who gets fall down drunk on a daily basis and listens to her TV at max volume as to cover up the yap of her pint sized shit machine that never shuts up. I’m surprised we have heat at all. I imagine it’s nice and toasty when you fall asleep fully dressed on your couch at 7:00pm. I can only tell when she’s awake by the plume of cigarette smoke that billows up the heat vent when she awakes at 4:00am. Yum.
There’s the neighbor across the street that holds a bi-weekly White Trash Of America meeting in his garage listening to 80’s metal while drinking beer all night (the same man who whistled and cooed and my mother in law one day when she came over). Also the same guy who woke my kid up at 2:30 am after having the cops called on him for a domestic dispute on the lawn with his wife.
There are feral neighbor cats that cry and fight at all hours of the night. In our yard.
Looney Bin shovels her snow behind our car!
Our screen door does not shut all the way. It slams and bangs in the wind every night. Our “front” (read: ONLY) door is downstairs. You must open it and immediately walk up another flight of stairs, through a baby gate to get in to the place.
The porch light is wired to the hallway light. Both must be on together. No either/or. Speaking of wiring! All outlets are on one circuit. If you want to have the air conditioner or the heater or the blow dryer or the microwave on you must first make sure every other light is off or they will pop and you will have to go outside, downstairs and around the house, pass the yapping dog to the circuit breaker to reset it.
What was I thinking?????????
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