Friday, May 29, 2015

Funny Friday May 2015

Today's post is this month's Funny Friday, a regular feature published on the last Friday of every month, hosted by Baking in a Tornado. Funny Friday is a collaborative project between a wide variety of bloggers. Each month one of the participants submits a picture and we all write 5 captions or thoughts inspired by that picture. Links to the other bloggers are below. Check them out to see what they came up with. Hopefully we bring a smile to your face to take you to the weekend!

baking in a tornado

Here is today's picture. It was submitted by Spatulas on Parade.


1. Flip flop: "Crap, I lost my human again. I knew he shouldn't have had that last tequila shot."

2. Flip flop: "One is the loneliest number..."

3. What I want to know is how did the person still wearing the other flip flop not notice this one was missing?

4.  Flip flop: "Still waiting for my Prince Charming..."

5. "Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world." – Marilyn Monroe. 
     Give a man a flip flop and he loses it on the beach.

Be sure to check out what all the other participants came up with this week:

Thursday, May 28, 2015

To My Ex's Future Wife

When my ex and I separated and divorced, the last thing I wanted to do was think about another woman in my children's lives. I couldn't stand the thought of them getting close to another mother figure. Would they like her more than me? Would she be nice to them? Would they love her? I also hated the idea of my kids being around someone else's family; a family I don't get to approve, people whose history I know nothing about.

As time went on, and with a lot of personal growth, I slowly started to let go of the fear of the kids liking someone else more. I'm their mother and no one can replace me. I also started to look at the whole situation from a different perspective.

I realized I have to put a certain level of trust into my ex husband. Considering what went on during our relationship and the first few years of our divorce, that was a very hard pill to swallow. I have to trust that he will choose to be with someone who adores our children. Someone who comes from a family that will be able to provide them with even more loving family members.

Over time I came up with a list of things that I would like to say to whomever my ex finally settles down with.



To the woman who ends up with my ex, know that when you marry him you also agree to be a parent to my children. It isn't just the two of you, or you and your kids. You have to accept my children as well. 

Here are a few things I would like you to keep in mind;

1) Be good to my ex. His happiness directly affects my children, and indirectly affects me. He isn't perfect but he has grown a lot over the last eight years.

2) Spend time with my children. Do things with them. Take them on bike rides, read stories, play games, blow bubbles. They deserve your attention just as much as my ex does; maybe even more.



3) Don't talk bad about me in front of my kids. Trust me on this. In the long run, you are the only one who is going to look bad. You haven't been around for the past ten years since they were born. There are two sides to every story. Bad mouthing me will only end up making them resent you, and possibly their father for marrying you. Like it or not, you have to accept that I am, and always will be, part of this life you are choosing.

4) Don't bad mouth my kids' father in front of them. Keep your fights and opinions between the two of you. Don't bring my kids into it. They can't control the actions of you, my ex or me. Do not bring them into the middle of your disagreements.

5) Accept that my ex will always choose his children over you. If you have children you will know what I mean. If you don't, let me explain it. I don't mean he will take their side when they do something wrong and need to be reprimanded. You are important to him, but my children have been around a lot longer than you, and if you try to make him choose, you will lose. 

6) Don't try to force your personal or religious beliefs on my children. By all means explain things to them and tell them your opinion on things, especially if they ask. Do not tell them your ways are the only ways, your god is the only god, or your politics are the only politics to believe in. My children are being raised to be allowed to make up their own minds on what they believe.



7) Don't tell my kids that Santa isn't real. Or the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy or that creepy elf I move around every night during the month of December. That goes for your kids too. If they don't believe, tell them to keep their mouths shut. I don't care what your opinion is on the subject. Respect my kids, and my ex, by going with it until they are old enough to ask questions or find out on their own. Always consult my ex before discussing these things with the kids.

8) Don't have "the talk" with my children. When the subject of sex comes up it will be me or my ex who talks to them about it. Maybe both of us. Maybe you will be included, maybe you won't. If they happen to come to you with questions, let my ex know so that we can deal with it. This sort of ties in with #6.

9) Attend my kids' school performances and sporting events. Show them that you are genuinely interested in their likes, passions and hobbies. Nothing makes a child feel more secure and loved than a present parent.

Finally, and most importantly;

10) Tell my children you love them. I want my children to know they are loved in both of their homes. I couldn't imagine having grown up in a home where my stepdad didn't tell me he loved me. If you have children from a previous marriage, this in no way means you love them less. Don't feel guilty about telling someone else's kids you love them. You are a family now and they are also your children. Could you imagine your kids growing up in a home where everyone is told they are loved except them?

There are a million little things I could add to this list, but I think this covers the most important parts. It has taken me a long time to get to a place where I am okay with you being in my children's lives. Please have enough respect for them, me and my ex to follow these requests. I don't think any of them are out of the ordinary or asking too much of you.

Trust me when I tell you that if (this) mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. 

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Guest Post: I Hate My Job

Today I have an a anonymous guest writing about how she feels about her job. I have yet to meet someone who loves every aspect of their job, but this person deals with things I'm not sure I could. She wanted a safe place to vent her frustrations without being judged. Please show her some love and support. If you can relate, let her know in the comments section.


I hate my job.
I am utterly disgusted every morning I wake up and it's my day to work. The night before? I'm worrying myself into a deep depression about how I have to be at work the next day.
I find myself on the verge of tears as I pull into my parking space. I sit in my truck and smoke one more cigarette while glancing at the clock and watching the clock switch to 0705...0706...I'm late again but I really don't care. Not anymore. Those precious six minutes are the last resemblance of any happiness I know I will have for the next harrowing 12 hour shift.
If my boyfriend drops me off the conversation goes like this:
"Ugh. I can't do this. I can't."
"Yes sweetie you can. Just remember who you are doing it for."
A lot of people hate their jobs. They go to jobs that drain their souls of happiness just so they can pay their bills. Maybe it's because they have to work there because it's a family business. Maybe it's because they don't have any other options because of a dying economy or maybe because they just don't have the education they need to move onto something bigger and better.
Yet, none of those apply to me.
Nobody in my family has ever worked in the career field I'm in. I live in a large city that is pretty stable economically wise and I certainly have the college education to be able to do what I do for a living.
So what makes my job different and the hatred for my job worse than the disdain others have for where they clock in each day?
I'm a nurse. Specifically a pediatric nurse. One on one with a special needs child who is the most beautiful child, barring my own son, that I've ever laid eyes on. Beautiful inside and out.
Over my past two and a half years I've been blessed to be with this child, I've learned more about life and what it means to love someone and care for them as if they were your own than my own family has ever taught me.
I feel like a piece of shit for hating my job. I feel like I don't deserve the title I worked so hard to earn several years ago.
I worked so hard in nursing school. It was a whirlwind of hard and soul crushing moments mixed in with being witness to some of the most amazing miracles anyone could imagine ever bearing witness to.
I remember the first day of clinicals in my mind like it was yesterday. I see that eager and stalwart young nursing student smiling ear to ear along with her classmates, scared to death but so excited to begin her journey in being a part of the healing process for others.
I remember the first time I performed CPR on a patient and they lived. The first time I held a patient's hand while they died.
Tears of happiness when I saw a patient walk again for the first time after surgery and tears of pain while standing in the back of a hospital room, watching and listening to mourning family members crying over a loved one, gone to another place finally.
I certainly remember saying I'd never work with children and then finally being placed in the home of my first pediatric patient and the instant realization that I loved it. Loved that a family trusted me enough with their baby. Trusted that I knew what I was doing and when I performed a certain task at hand, that I would complete it and make the life of their child better for having done it.
I wish...no I pray reverently every single day for those feelings to come back again to me.
For 12 hours I work my ass off for a little girl and do everything I'm supposed to do as her private nurse to make her life healthy and happy and then some. I love on her, I sing songs with her. I give her meds, feed her and change her diapers.
I also wipe her tears and cuddle her when she is restless and I don't know what is bothering her. I use my critical thinking skills as her nurse to try and assess what may be wrong but even then it's not always apparent.  I am not a human microscope though. I can't make her speak all of a sudden and tell me what hurts.
I can tell her mother though, that she is in distress. I can tell her mother that we should call the doctor just in case it's something that needs to be checked out and not just a bad day.
What I can't do is make her mother listen to me. Make her mother understand that even though her precious daughter has around the clock nursing care, she still needs her mommy.
Just because she can't talk, see or hear, that she still knows when it's her mommy holding her, soothing her. It's her mommy cooing against her hair, planting kisses on her forehead. She knows.
There's this thing called professional boundaries. They are very bold and plain and straight to the point. Yet every single day I'm pushed against a wall protecting those boundaries because a mother chooses not to fulfill her role even a tiny bit.
It wasn't always this way. I remember a mother who used to micromanage and watch every little move we made in her home. A mother who used to be so strict about sanitizing every item that her daughter came into contact with. A mother who would dismiss a nurse from the case because she didn't believe that her child bonded well with them. A mother of an ill child that made sure prescriptions were picked up in a timely manner so she did not go without even one dose for fear of seizures.
Now?
I combat roaches and mice on a daily basis. I beg for vinegar and cleaning supplies so I can disinfect surfaces. I demand that medications be picked up on time only to still go up to four and five days without them, until I swing by on my way to work to pick them up. I watch a little girl twitch with seizure activity occasionally because she hasn't had her medication.
I deal with co-workers who don't follow through with the plan of care and could care less if she sits in a dirty diaper until the shift changes because they don't want to deal with it. Throw wet and vomit stained clothes into a hamper to mold and mildew because we can't even do the laundry because a mother has forgotten to give us money...again...for the second week in a row.
So when I say I hate my job, people look at me and tell me, "You're a nurse. You're supposed to love and care for people. How dare you say you hate your job!"
There are rules and regulations put in place to deal with all the things I've mentioned that happen, the problem is when you follow your chain of command, still nothing happens. That's when it becomes truly my problem. My decision.
I have to look at this child and decide the best course of action.
I lay in bed at night and I think to myself, "What was I taught in school? What are the rules according to the board of nursing? What would I do as a mother myself?"
And then it's clear to me.
I have decisions to make. I have to make them soon and not for me. For her.
I also realize then, that maybe, just maybe it's not really my job I hate, but the position I am put in with regards to these hard as hell decisions I have to make sooner than later. Unnecessary decisions that could have been avoided.
The phone calls I will be forced to make in the coming days. The disruption these phone calls will more than likely cause, but nursing isn't always pretty.
It's not always about blood and guts and dirty bed linens on an empty gurney right in front of your face. Sometime's it's about the blood, sweat and tears of the nurse that you don't see, dripping from a caring heart hidden deep inside a soul so loving you can't even imagine.
All for one little person.


That's what I hate.

Friday, May 15, 2015

The Moment I Lost my Faith in Humanity

I can't take it anymore. Seriously. Abuse, rape, neglect, murder. Everyday when I scroll through my Facebook newsfeed or turn on the TV I see stories of children who are dying and suffering. Every fucking day.


Utah toddler who died from
injuries sustained during a
potty training incident.
(Credit: KSTU)

We've got dentists torturing children; we've got kids dying in cars because their parents forget to drop them off at daycare; we've got toddlers being beaten to death because they poop in their diapers; and we've got mothers murdering their children and stuffing them in freezers. That doesn't even go into the children who are raped by the people they are supposed to be able to trust; family members, neighbors, teachers and clergymen.

What the fuck is wrong with people?


Howard Schneider; Jacksonville pediatric
dentist accused of torturing his patients.
(Photo: WTLV-TV/WJXX-TV, Jacksonville, Fla.)

Everyone says we should "pray for the victims and their families". Pray to whom exactly? Half the time the perpetrators are the families. And who exactly are we praying to? A god who allows these atrocities to take place to begin with?

My dad and I were talking recently about all the nonsensical things that happen to good people. Illnesses and diseases, abuse, murder and more. We were discussing the "everything happens for a reason" theory and how some people believe that things happen to teach the rest of us some sort of life lesson.

I have thought about it for hours, trying to figure out what raping a child could possibly teach me other than the fact that some people are awful, evil beings. 

How about a pediatric dentist torturing his patients as his staff stand by watching and assisting? Is that meant to teach children to be fearful of dentists or others who are supposed to be trusted? Or is it to teach us parents not to assume those who claim their passion and life's work is helping children are telling the truth? Why do babies have to be mentally scarred for the rest of their lives for that?

The only lesson I can gain from a child being left in a scorching hot car all day is not to leave a child in a scorching hot car all day. It shouldn't take a child's life to help me figure that one out. 

What am I supposed to learn from parents beating a toddler to death for pooping in his diaper? Not to beat my toddler to death for shitting his pants? Or is it meant as a lesson to toddlers all over the world to crap in the potty and not their underwear?

When a woman tortures her children and kills them, and then has her surviving children stuff them in a deep freezer, what is that meant to show us? Don't stuff kids in a freezer because you'll get caught?

Why do all those innocent babies have to be subjected to those levels of stupidity, selfishness and vileness? And worse, at the hands of people they love and trust, or are supposed to be able to love and trust.

Yesterday I was driving my kids to school and one of them mentioned a friend who has a phone that she can actually make calls on. Our kids have old used iPhones from family members who have upgraded to newer ones that they use basically as iPods. They can iMessage and FaceTime other Apple users and can connect to WiFi to play games. They're always on our case about getting phones that can actually make calls.


I explained that someone will always have more than them, or something they want. I also told them that there will always be people less fortunate than them. That there are children whose only meals are the ones they get at school, and that there are children who have no homes or parents who love them. I told them that if I could, I would adopt as many of those children as I could. That I would love them and nurture them, feed and clothe them, and show them that there is good in the world and that they are worthy of love.

I didn't get into all the horrific things some children are subjected to. My kids are only eight and nine, they will learn all about those things soon enough. I wish they never had to hear stories about evil dentists or sadistic parents.

How am I supposed to explain to them why those things happen when I can't even explain it to myself? It makes me sick to my stomach to think about it. 

It was last night while I was telling hubs about the conversation I had with the kids that the story about the boy defecating in his diaper popped up. It was at that exact moment that I officially lost my faith in humanity. 

I don't know why that particular story did it. It certainly wasn't the first tragic child abuse story I'd read about. Maybe it was the picture of that little boy, his angelic face, blonde hair and big brown eyes looking at me as if to say "what did I do wrong?"

Some people will tell me that I need to "keep the faith", "not let the devil in". Screw that. If there is a devil, he is already in. He is everywhere. This isn't a matter of god versus the devil, this is plain old good versus evil.

So what are we going to do about it? How are we, as a community of good, going to fight this evil?

We've put man on the moon and grown a baby from a test tube. Surely we can come up with some sort of test at birth that shows where or not we have evil genes. Test positive? Sterilization, right then and there, before you even leave the hospital.

How about a family history check? "Oh, Uncle Ted didn't turn out to be a very nice man. No children for you."

Too drastic? OK, how about we stop letting child rapists, abusers, and molesters out of prison? Rehabilitation my ass. How many times do we hear about these sickos getting out of prison, only to turn around and do the exact same fucking thing again?

Rape a kid? Chemical castration. Beat and abuse a child? They should get the same as punishment.

I know, I know, we aren't supposed to go by the "eye for an eye" thing. We're supposed to let the law and judicial system take control of these matters and not seek vendettas or personal retribution. 


Well let me tell you something; our judicial system fails us time and time again. Letting rapists walk free, placing children in foster homes where they endure worse abuse and neglect than where they came from. Don't even get me started on the state of our mental health department, or lack thereof. 

I wish I could tell you I had some amazing plan that would change the world and keep our babies safe, but I don't. I don't know what the answer is or how to make this world a better, safer place.

All I know is that I have no more faith in humanity. 

Don't get me wrong, I can still appreciate the beautiful things; love my children with my entire being; hope that I can raise them to be good, loving, yet strong and independent people.



The rest of the world, however, I have no faith in it and won't until we start to see some change.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Top Six Phrases That Piss Off My Toddler

If you have, or have had, toddlers you know that they are complete and total narcissistic little assholes. It's as if they really, truly believe the world revolves around them and that the sole reason you exist is to be at their every beck and call.


They like to throw tantrums all the time for no apparent effing reason! I like to think that in their weird little minds, there is some logic to their madness, but I can't figure it out for the life of me. 

They act like the world is coming to an end if you don't stop what you're doing immediately to get them what they want, look at the squirrel outside, or read them a book. Never mind that you are in the process of taking that casserole out of the oven. You'd better drop that shit and run to them right away.

I've also found that certain phrases will send them into a tailspin that would make the Tasmanian Devil envious.

Here are the top six phrases that piss off my toddler:

#1 "Put these pants on". God forbid I suggest my child not leave the house naked. My daughter will literally scream "I DON'T WANT IT PANTS ON!!" while simultaneously throwing herself backwards onto her changing mat. 

#2 "Here's your cheese stick." Dammit what's wrong with me? I should know by now that "cheese stick" is code word for "crackers", or "yogurt", or "apple sauce". Oh, there she goes, running through the house screaming like she's being chased by an axe murderer. Ignore the fact that she asked for the damn cheese stick two minutes ago and now she's launching it at you from across the room like she's a missile trying to take out the enemy.

"I don't like Sofia!
I like Miles!"

#3 "Oh look, it's your favorite show!" Nothing irks my toddler more than not knowing 'Sofia the First' isn't her favorite show (like it was five minutes ago), and that it is actually 'Miles From Tomorrowland'. Sweet baby cheeses change the channel before her head starts to spin. You'd better pray you have some 'Miles' on the DVR because it isn't scheduled to come on for another three hours!

#4 "Look, I have a special treat for you - M&M's!" Holy shit. All I can say is I had better have the right number/color of M&M's in that container or World War III is going to break loose in my house! 

"I want FIVE BLUE M&M's!"

#5 "That's a school bus sweetie." Trust me, there is nothing sweet about the demon that arises as he hisses at you that the school bus isn't a school bus at all, it is actually a "fire twuck". Even if she asked me what it was, I don't question it, I just go with it. "Oh, that's a fire truck? Cool."

#6 "Yes, you can have pink milk." I may as well go ahead and turn my mom card in right now. Of course she doesn't want pink milk, she wants chocolate milk. She hates pink milk now. Oh, no, hang on, she takes a sip of the chocolate milk and throws the cup at your head because it isn't pink milk. Just give up now. For the love of god, give up.

What I have learned from having a toddler in the house is that there is no correct answer. Ever. Unless the stars are perfectly aligned, there is not going to be a day that goes by where I don't say the wrong thing at the wrong time, or don't respond to her quick enough.

In order to keep your sanity in tact if you have a toddler in the house, (or a baby crotch-fruit who will eventually turn into a toddler), I suggest you just learn to roll with the punches. 

Or talk to your doctor or neighborhood drug dealer about Xanax.





Friday, May 8, 2015

A Little Perspective This Mother's Day

When you were pregnant, did you have your perfect birth plan all figured out? The music you would listen to, whether or not you would have the epidural, who would be in the room, which doctor would deliver your little bundle of joy and what scented candles you were going to burn?

Did everything work out as you planned? Did you sail through the birth as though you were born to birth, or were there complications? I hope you sailed through it and both you and baby were happy and healthy. For most women, things don't go as planned.

Maybe your baby was breech and you had to have an emergency C-section after many painful, unsuccessful attempts at turning her. Maybe the pain became too unbearable after 36-hours of labor and you went against what you originally wanted and got the epidural. Maybe you were almost two weeks past your due date and had to be induced. Maybe the hospital wouldn't actually let you burn that candle or your partner forgot the iPod at home so you couldn't listen to your birth music.

Were you angry, disappointed, and pissed off at your partner because you couldn't listen to music? Did you curse your doctor for "making you" have a C-section or for inducing you? Did you blame yourself and feel like a failure for not being able to endure the pain of labor for another eight hours?

What if your problem wasn't that your partner forgot your birth music, but that you had no medical clinic to go to and you had to give birth in a tent? What if instead of worrying about what scented candle you were going to burn, you had to worry about whether or not the local birthing assistant, who has no formal training, would be able to safely deliver your child? What if your biggest worry wasn't whether or not you would opt for an epidural, but rather whether or not you would make the long walk to the nearest hospital or clinic once labor started?

Did you know that there are believed to be 126,000 pregnant women who survived the earthquake in Nepal last week? Did you know that none of them have a hospital to go to, doctors to help them, drugs to take away the pain? That some don't even have their partners to hold their hands and support them through their deliveries?

Photo Credit: CARE

Every Mother Counts is an organization started by fashion model Christy Turlington Burns. Christy suffered from postpartum hemorrhaging, which is the number one cause of childbirth related deaths worldwide. Every Mother Counts is dedicated to helping women around the world have access to the basic essentials of childbirth. It is estimated that 289,000 women die every year due to complications resulting from childbirth. That's one woman every two minutes. 90% of these deaths are preventable!

Every Mother Counts has announced that they will be funding a $25,000 grant to One Heart Worldwide to help assist the roughly 126,000 pregnant women in Nepal who would otherwise have no help. They will set up safari tents delivered by Arlene Samen, President and Founder of One Heart Worldwide, as makeshift birthing facilities. Think about that for a minute. Safari tents as birthing facilities. We get upset because we can't burn a lavender and eucalyptus aromatherapy candle in our hospital room, but these women are giving birth in tents!

Here is what they are hoping the $25,000 will provide;
  • 10 Solar Suitcases to provide light and electricity in temporary birth shelters. These suitcases will eventually be moved to permanent facilities. 
  • Prenatal vitamins 
  • Blood pressure cuffs 
  • Miscellaneous medical supplies (I.e. sutures, Betadine, IV lines, medical stands, autoclaves, and privacy screens) 
  • Dopplers (to listen to fetal heart tones) 
  • Birth kits 
  • Blankets 
  • Baby hats 
  • Essential medicines 
  • Suture kits 
  • Gauze bandage rolls 
How many of you raided the little crib/cabinet on wheels in the hospital room before you left? I know I did. I stashed all those pacifiers, swaddling blankets, diapers, nose suckers, wipes, hats and anything else that was there that I thought I could use. And you know what? I didn't think twice about it. Just like I don't think twice when we run out of diapers, or wipes, or milk, or baby shampoo. I simply get in my Chrysler Town and Country minivan, drive to the store and buy more. Are there weeks when I can't buy the jumbo size pack of diapers or the organic milk because our bank balance is too low? Absolutely. But I don't have to worry about not having those essential items for my babies. I am fortunate to have medical insurance, but even if I didn't, I could still walk into a hospital and receive medical care because they can’t legally turn me away.

It is 2015 and hundreds of thousands of women still die from childbirth. This is unacceptable to me. I know we can't save everyone. I know a lot of people live paycheck-to-paycheck and can't afford to donate to charities and causes such as this. I'm not writing this post to guilt you into sending money to Nepal. I'm writing this post because Mother's Day is a couple of days away and while we're over here dropping hints and writing posts about how we want a new bracelet, or a fancy brunch out, or even a day alone without our kids, there are 126,000 women who don't know how/where they are going to provide for their families or give birth to their babies.

Learn more here.

What I'm asking for this Mother's Day is that we all gain a little perspective. Yes, it gets old not being able to pee without a toddler running in after you. We all want to be able to sit down and catch up on a TV show uninterrupted. We would love to be able to sleep in late and then go to brunch on Sunday. There is nothing wrong with any of that; after all, we are only human. We are also damn lucky to live in a country where we have everything we need at our very fingertips.

This Sunday as you enjoy your Mother's Day, think about all those less fortunate. As your children jump on you in bed when they bring you breakfast, send out a prayer to the mother who is giving birth in a tent. When you send your partner out on an "emergency" diaper run, think of the women who lost their partners in the earthquake and have no one there to help them. If you can spare a few dollars, please consider donating directly to One Heart Worldwide to help assist the victims of the earthquake and their families.

The 289,000 annual pregnancy/childbirth related deaths aren't only abroad, they are also happening right on our very doorsteps. According to Every Mother Counts, "the U.S. ranks 50th in the world in terms of maternal health. With 1 in 5 women of reproductive age lacking health insurance, too many women are not accessing prenatal care or childbirth education." They also state that "maternal health in New York City is among the worst in the Nation. Low income women of color are disproportionately impacted. Preexisting health conditions coupled with sub-standard care, unnecessary interventions, discrimination and voicelessness results in many pregnant women not seeking or receiving the care and resources they need." In the U.S., the lifetime risk of dying from pregnancy or childbirth related causes is 1 in 1,800. When you take into consideration that we are supposed to be a super-power, and a country who prides itself on family values, those numbers are shocking.

If you would like to learn more about this topic, I strongly urge you to watch the documentary No Woman No Cry (available on Netflix). Find out more about Christy Turlington Burns' own childbirth scare and follow her around the world as she visits various countries and meets real women and their struggles and fears surrounding pregnancy and childbirth.

After watching No Woman No Cry I wanted to hold my babies tight and call my OB to thank him and his staff for the amazing pre and postnatal care they provided me. Of course I will still have days when I question my decision to have kids as I change yet another poopy diaper; or have to deal with a whiny, clingy toddler; or break up one more argument between squabbling pre-teens. I will, however, always be grateful that I had clean, sanitary hospital to give birth in surrounded by medical experts ready to make life saving decisions at a moment's notice.

Oh, and the freebies from the little crib/cabinet on wheels in the hospital room. I will always be grateful for those.

For more information on grants and other help provided by Every Mother Counts visit http://everymothercounts.org/



Monday, May 4, 2015

My Brain at 2 am

For some reason, my brain goes into overdrive at 2 am. Usually I have to wake up to pee and then, when most of the rest of the population is sleeping, I'm laying in bed thinking about anything and everything. Things I forgot to do the day before and random things about stupid shit.


Image courtesy of freeimages.com

Let me give you an example;

I have to pay the electric bill. Oh, and the water bill - I'm probably behind on that one. Why can I never remember to pay it? Shit, what's the date? The 20th, OK, I'm good on the insurance bill. It would suck to forget that one.  Speaking of sucking, I forgot to empty out the vacuum. Now it's going to smell like dead dog when I vacuum the next time. Why do those damn dogs shed so much anyway? They really stink too. Bella's breath is the worst. That reminds me, I really need to find a new dentist and get a cleaning scheduled. Oh, and reschedule the children's sealant appointment. Seals are so cute. Especially baby ones. Ugh, I still have to buy shoes for the baby. She's walking all over the place now. I sure hope she isn't angry tomorrow like she was yesterday. Her molars must really have been bothering her. Ugh, hubs is snoring again. No wonder I can't sleep. Maybe I'll just go into the girls' room and sleep in there. But then I would have to unplug the monitor and take it with me. Are there sheets on their bed? I'm pretty sure I put them back after washing them when we were all sick. That was awful. I thought I was dying. Stomach bugs are the worst. I hate bugs. I hope we don't have to deal with lice again this year. That was a fucking nightmare. I should probably spray the kids' hair with that tea tree oil every morning. I love the way that stuff smells. I wonder what that smell in the laundry room is coming from. It isn't the washer or dryer. So weird. Maybe a rat crawled in the vent and died. That's what is smells like. Rats are so gross with their pointy teeth and tails that look like worms. How do people who fish thread worms on the hooks like that. So gross. We need to eat more fish. Maybe I'll make fish for dinner tomorrow. The kids are with their dad tomorrow night. That means I don't have to get up for school on Wednesday morning. Maybe if I pull the blankets the hubs will move and stop snoring. He forgot to put that mouth piece in that he bought to stop him snoring. I should wake him up and tell him to put it in but I don't want to. He has to get up for work in a few hours. Tomorrow is Monday.  That was a crazy episode of Game of Thrones last night. Can't believe I have to wait a another week for the next episode. Oh crap, tomorrow is Monday, the kids aren't with their dad.  I wonder what we're going to do this weekend. I'd like to go to the beach. I haven't been to the beach since long before the baby was born. I'm really not thrilled about putting a bathing suit on. Why can't I get myself motivated to work out? Maybe I'll try that new workout DVD tomorrow. I wonder if I need to wear shoes while I''m doing it. God I love shoes. All I ever where are flip flops. The ones I broke my foot in. Casts are awful. My leg was so hairy when they took it off. That was hot. Ugh, it's hot in here, I'm going to turn the air down. I can't forget to pay the electric bill.

So there it is. I feel like one of those PSA's...only instead of: "this is your brain...this is your brain on drugs" it's: "this is my brain...this is my brain at 2 am."

Both are equally as scary.