Can I have some?

welcome to my blog.

a place to post. a place to eat oreos. a place to vent. a place to heal.

i started this blog so i could use a different outlet besides munching on fattening oreos. as if that has done any good... *mind wanders to oreo package in the house...*

then i realized that oreos can be semi symbolic. if you are are that crazy about oreos that is. which... i am.

eating oreos is therapeutic for me. when i am struggling or when i need a pick me up. they have chocolate. and sugar. both of which help lift my mood. not to mention that i eat them soaked with milk, which is my miracle drink.

i post my posts to not only get stuff out. there may be people who read my blog who have been in the same kind of situations as i have. i hope reading them and knowing that others have gone through things like i have, will be to you what eating oreos does to me.

and yes. i didn't capitalize anything in here. i just felt like it. deal with it.

munch up.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Family bed

I have posted earlier about becoming a bed for Goof Ball every once in a while. He is very cute. It seems that it is turning into a daily ritual. Sleep on mommy around 10:30 to whenever he wakes up. Every day. Sure, fine. He is adorably cute, and if I truly had a problem with it, I wouldn't let him sit on my lap because that would bring about the consequences. I kind of expect it these days.

Well yesterday, for the first time in... years? Bug fell asleep on me as well. I must be more comfy than I thought. It certainly wasn't at the same time, they would fight over me too much if I tried to have them on my lap at the same time for me to even try.

It was really cute.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

"Ogres have layers..."

And they seem to be more like onions than parfaits. "Ain't no one out there who's gonna say, 'Oh I don't like parfaits!'" I feel that I am very much like an ogre... and an onion. "Because you smell bad?" Maybe. But that's not the point.

Ok, ok, enough Shrek quotes.

Depending on how long you have read my blog (or how far back you have gone in the archives) you know that I just can't get enough of roller-coasters. Particularly the invisible emotion-like ones. Believe me, if I could just jump off, I would, but once you sit down and they strap you in, you are stuck until the stupid ride stops. It turns out that since this post, I have found a new layer of that stupid rotten though onion to peel off.



I hate to think about it or admit that I might have more to go through. At least I just bought more Oreos just the other day (along with the Waffers... my two loves were battling it out the whole way through the store, stuck in the same cart the whole way). I have been trying to watch what I eat and exercise more... but keeping my sanity through all this just might be a bit more important, no? Particularly when I have little people to take care of. Don't get me wrong... I will still try to keep up with the exercise, because I know that helps brain function and whatever else. Emotions and... this isn't a health blog by all means. Go to a different site to know how much exercise helps. I DO know the benefits and will try to keep it up. What I meant about the Oreos is, if I find I need them, I won't hold back like I might have earlier.

Monday, June 27, 2011

An Oreo Affair

There aren't many cookies that can act as rivals to my precious. Oreo tops almost all of my charts. Obviously, as I dedicated a blog to them and was even obsessed enough to find symbolism in them. How insane can one get, right?

Waffer Cookies. Do you know what I'm talking about? Not the Vanilla Waffers (that are circular almost bread-like things and no frostingesc goodness at all)... Waffers. These guys:
Now, I normally go for the strawberry ones... Oreo's still beat on the chocolate flavor, and the vanilla flavor is also quite good. If there was going to be any sort of runner up for my favorite cookie, these would be it. Sadly, however, they aren't as easy to find as they once were. Are they going out of style? Keebler I believe had a line of these, but I haven't seen them in a while... I can only ever find them sold in generic brands these days. Not that I can tell much of a difference, to be honest. I only worry that I won't be able to find them at all...

In any case, I splurged today when I went shopping and got these. Sad to say I am quite hesitant to share my Oreo's with my kids... (hence I eat them only when the kids won't notice) but these I will consent to sharing. :) It was fun to snack on these after we got in pjs (like my sis... I just love pjs) and dip them in milk together. :)

Hurray for days that end with smiles and sugar.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Mommy's a person?? No, you must be joking me! She's a bed!

In church when I was younger, I enjoyed laying down on my mom's lap and sleeping. She had a very comfy lap, though she may somewhat despise the reason for said comfyness. Heck, I despise why my lap is so comfy, she must have at some point. Oh wonderful baby fat...


I breed mamma's boys. As far as Little Angel is concerned, I'm not sure if he was... he was for the two months that he lived, for obvious reasons... I was his source of food. As for Bug and Goof Ball, they are very much mamma's boys, so I would assume that Little Angel would have been too. In any case... the fact that they are both mamma's boys makes for difficult situations. Sometimes I am a possession that they fight over like a favorite toy. More than a favorite toy. Sometimes I am the cureall bandaid that just makes everything better. I can even heal things that are invisible like banged up feelers (feelings). Sometimes I become the most comfortable bed and pillow known to the world... but even more magical than that is the fact that the bed can walk. *gasp!

Some days I think I enjoy that they love me so much that they want me in every aspect of their lives. Some days... not so much. It is especially difficult when they both want me at the same time. Despite all I can do, sometimes there is just not enough of me to go around. Who knew that more of me, me was wanted in this world.

Goof Ball has pretty much graduated to the one nap a day routine. I put him to bed right after lunch. But then there are the mornings when he just can't get enough of me and insists on sitting on my lap while I write or whatever. On those mornings he just gets so darn comfortable on my comfy remains of his baby fat (along with Little Angel's and Bugs... ahem...) that he ends up falling asleep and I turn from a writing mommy into a bed and pillow. On such days I still give him a nap in the afternoon, just a little later than right after lunch.


This morning was difficult. Both the kids were screaming and demanded my every attention. I knew I should have gotten out of bed when they were both still asleep. I didn't have one minute to myself to recuperate. When Pro Boxer tried to get one kid to calm down... well that just diminished the competition for Mommy's attention and I was still overwhelmed by (mainly) Goof Ball as he insisted that I become his transportation. For if I hold and hug and cuddle him while sitting down he gets upset.

And yes, I now have a sleeping baby on me. It is amazing how much more heavy he can get when he is asleep... Don't get me wrong... I love having him sleep on me. But... as demanding a person I am I would rather have it on my schedule, not his. He is also excessively warm when he sleeps on me. This usually happens only in the morning when I am at my computer. When there is a window right to the east of me and the sun shines in and... by the time he wakes up I will be a pool of sweat.

Whatever... he is cute anyway.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

There are times...

... when I just want to disappear into the internet.
... when I don't want to make dinner.
... when I refuse to do dishes.
... when laundry piles up because I am lazy.
... when life seems to get more and more challenging.
... when flowers I received on my birthday don't cheer me up.
... when I feel like I can't do anything.
... when writing is difficult.
... when I feel that my sketches are worthless.
... when I wish to throw my kids out the window.

There are also times...

... when Bug gives me a hug when I am down.
... when Goof Ball smiles and babbles so cutely.
... when Pro Boxer gives me a kiss and a little squeeze.
... when writing comes easy(er).
... when I smile because of Bug's simple logic.
... when dinner is prepared and delicious.
... when I turn up the music and dance while washing dishes.
... when the plants in my care actually survive (*gasp!*).
... when I have the patience and stamina to read the same book to my kids over, and over, and over, and over, and over...
... when Goof Ball cuddles me, and I make time for them.

Sometimes life gets hard. But life will never make way for you, so you just have to make way for life. The past few days were hard. Friday... well I'll not even go into all that happened that day. Best part of it was giving a sketch to my niece and seeing a friend I hadn't seen in forever at her wedding reception. Saturday was one scream after the other, and I never had a chance to recuperate. Thank goodness for good friends who helped me escape such chaoticness and for a hubby who allowed me to leave minutes after I woke him up from his nap. Pro Boxer had to work all weekend. Yes... even a portion today. I was worried that by today the kids and I would be so sick of each other that the day would be filled with even more anger and stress than the last two days combined.

Thankfully I was wrong. I think I am starting to really learn the difference between childish and childlike. Go on a walk with a child someday, and you will understand too.

Friday, June 17, 2011

"Whaddya mean you cooked the [rice cooker] Charlie?"

This post has been long overdue. Mainly because it happened a long time ago I kept forgetting, mainly because I am a mom with lots of other things on her plate.

A few weeks ago, on a Sunday, in fact... it was the first Sunday this month. I know that, because Pro Boxer was heating up some water after church so I could have some Postum. We have very little of that left, as Kraft is no longer producing it... (curse you Kraft!) but that is a post for a later date.

We have a flat top stove. You know... the kind that is just... well, flat. And you can see the little circles to put the pan on, and it just kinda heats up. Whatever, you know what I mean, I'm sure. In any case, he put a pan with water in it on the stove and turned on the burner. I was busy getting things ready to visit family. Then suddenly I heard a bang and a shout from Pro Boxer. I ignored it assuming he had things under control.

He did... to a point. We are essentially lazy people, and keep dozens of things on the stovetop. It acts as a catchall/second counter for us to put things. The rice cooker still was there from when we last used it. We don't have a whole lot of plug-in places, and the stove is pretty much the best place to put the rice cooker when we use it. In any case, Pro Boxer turned on the wrong burner. He turned on the back instead of the front... and well... he cooked the rice cooker.
"Well, I cooked the [rice cooker] that's all..."

Yeah, we need a new one. We haven't even attempted to see if it still works. I took this after it had been thrown in the garbage. After I realized that it would make for a fun post.

I have smelt burnt/melted plastic before. But the smoke... oh boy, I couldn't even breathe. One inhale and I instantly started coughing. We had to open all the windows, turn on the fan in the front room, open the door... I escaped outside because I seriously couldn't stand the smoke. I can only assume that my severe reaction is because my lungs are already so delicate that inhaling something like that my lungs automatically rejected it. I have such reactions when I even smell cigarette smoke as well.

Happy Birthday!!! ..... Oreo!

Yesterday, I went to the store to run errands. Keep in mind that I haven't had Oreos in the house for a few days and haven't been craving them to the point of extreme. I wasn't even planning on buying them at the store, but rather a two week supply of food (as I had finally made a menu plan... we had been thinking about doing that for a few weeks). Then, yes, you can imagine... I came across this. A beautiful display of Oreos and in celebration of its birthday. Oh, the irony.... as it was my birthday as well.

I don't know if it is exactly the same birthday... but the irony is still there.

And yes. I did buy some. Hey, it was a birthday celebration, and who wouldn't want to save a dollar when they buy Oreos and milk together??

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Food Strike

Goof Ball has been walking down the street with signs saying: "No more food!", "Milk diet ftw!", "Feeding kids solids = abuse!"

Okay, he really hasn't, but he may as well have been. It would probably be better than the screaming, throwing, and spitting out that HAS been happening.

I have heard (mainly from my mom) about the "food strike age." I believe she said it was from age 2-6 or so. During this time, kids learn how to live on their baby fat. And I'll be the first to say that Goof Ball has plenty. ^_^ But... the process isn't fun for the parents. I'll also be the first to admit to that. Leftover homemade mac n' cheese mixed into spaghetti sauce. Sounds good no? Well apparently it isn't good enough for Mr. Food Strike. The only thing he'll accept is milk. And one may ask, "Well from all the screaming, maybe his throat hurts." Likely. But I gave him a little bit when he took one, ONE solitary maccoroni noodle. The result was the same. He wanted more milk. I gave him the option of eating another just as small portion of meat. He freaked out once again.

I will stop there, so as to prevent boring you from our dinner fiasco. I have been debating on how best to proceed with this. I refuse to give in and spoil him, making him think that he can get away with having a whole meal of just milk. I believe I heard somewhere that he is still young enough to live off of milk... but that isn't a very healthy way to live. Not only that, but it would be spoiling him, giving into his wants like that. But yet... wouldn't it be better to let him get full off of milk instead of no food at all? As you can see, I am kind of torn with this. Bug likely went on a food strike time, but it was so minimal that I don't remember many problems. But then, Bug didn't have a whole lot of baby fat to live off of.

I guess for now... at least for tonight, sticking to refusing him milk unless he eats is the best route as I already committed to it. Any subsequent nights I am sure I'll be at a loss and debating just what I did tonight.

Follow Down

Today is my second day exercising on the wii fit in the morning. My lame excuse that I used for a long time consisted of "Well, Goof Ball would want to climb on the board with me and mess everything up, and I would just get angry and frustrated..." Anyone who knows my kids know that they are exceptionally good. Yes, I know I complain about them a lot, but really... they are some of the calmest kids I know. And I'm truly not saying that... many people have told ME that, so it isn't just a greatest-mommy-on-earth complex.

About two weeks ago was the last time I got on the wii fit (before yesterday of course). And yes at that time, I DID try it with Goof Ball awake and watching. Most times he just watched. Bug likes to do the things with me, so he isn't a problem. He just grabs a throw pillow to use as his board and he is content. ^_^ Anyway, for the most part Goof Ball didn't bother me. When I did the yoga moves that required me to stand on one leg, Bug tried it and would sometimes grab me to help stable himself... I didn't allow that for long. One of my favorite "games" on the Wii Fit is the meditating one. Where you sit on the board and stay still so the candle on the screen doesn't wobble. I ignore that anyway, instead I close my eyes and truly meditate. I love to finish off my workout with that, but of course, THAT was the time that Goof Ball wanted to come sit on my lap. Afterall, I WAS sitting down. Of course I got upset, and gave up.

Then yesterday was the first time I got back on. Today I am sore. Not only did I do Wii Fit stuff, but I also did this tummy flattening thing that my mom gave me. They are just stretches that aren't really meant to even make one sweat. But they are designed to strengthen tummy muscles and such. Which I am in desperate need of.

Whatever the case, I told you I would follow through and let you know how it has been. I think it helps. I had minimal, if any, back pain yesterday. And last Saturday even though I didn't get on the Wii, I did mow the front lawn. But just that amount of exercise caused my back to hurt so I stopped. But it didn't hurt after I stopped much. I guess it was just the right amount... despite the pain that it caused, it didn't last long.

Though I am sore and just want to lay down or read or other relaxing things, I feel that doing this will keep me in shape for marching band next semester, and maybe then... just maybe... I won't embarrass myself in front of all those trumpets I am called to lead... Heh. Maybe I should work on my trumpet today too... heh...

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Band. Ten. HUT!

One of my favorite things about college is the Marching Band. Not only is it directed by the one and only Dr. Lion, but... for some odd reason, I just plain darn love it. Many people think I am crazy that I get sad at the end of the season. And yes, I truly do. Though... I think by the end of last season, I had a little bit of joy. It was a rough one for me.

Dr. Lion is... well he is one man that I truly respect. So much that I fear him. 'Tis true... I fear him. I believe most of the band members do. At the end of the school year, I wrote on the paper on his door declaring that I wanted to be the section leader for the trumpets, or squad leader, also adding on field coordinator. To be honest (and maybe show my inflated head), I thought for certain that I would be chosen for at least the squad leader. I wasn't so certain about the field coordinator, but I was kinda so-so for the job anyway. My heart was really in a knot for the section leader position. I have always wanted to be section leader. I have known three different section leaders in my time, two of which were when I was a music major, the third was this past year, my younger brother. Each one I looked up to almost with the same respect and admiration I have for Dr. Lion, though... without the fear. Dr. Lion just has this presence... despite how short he is, I wouldn't be surprised if most people fear him.

I know that when Dr. Lion chooses who is leadership in Marching Band, he places Music Ed. majors over other candidates because they need the experience. If I was still a Music Ed. major, I know for certain that I would have been chosen for section leader. A friend of mine, Jeweler, I mentioned before (in the previous link connected to Dr. Lion) is a Music Ed. major. Her first year in college was last year. Hence she would be a sophomore this year. I was absolutely certain she would at least be chosen for squad leader, because of her major. She is also a pretty remarkable player and person. She was bound to be chosen. I was also absolutely certain that I would be chosen for at least squad leader. I didn't have any idea on the other people who applied for I didn't know them as well, didn't know their majors, yadda yadda yadda.

So... who was chosen for section leader? Who will get a pie in the face on exactly Aug. 27th around 2 pm? Shay or Jeweler? A Music Ed. major or a once Music Ed. major, now English?

Before we get to that... (evil laughter ensues....) here is a fun story about Dr. Lion:

At a football game, I overheard him telling this story to someone else. He was walking up around the concesions [for the life of me I can't find out how to spell that word... I hope you all know what it means] with his black suit and white baseball cap, dark glasses that restricted anyone to see where he was looking, and of course, his head set so he could keep in contact with the drum major. He noticed a few girls huddled together eyeing him warily. And... just for fun, he muttered into his headset and gestured to the girls. They hustled off pretty quick. ^_^

Now that you all hate me (or already know the outcome), the answer would be... Yes. Yours truly. *shudder...* I. Have NEVER wanted a pie in my face. *sigh...

But it is decided. Also, not only am I the section leader, but Jeweler is a squad leader. A. Squad leader. Which means there are TWO squad leaders for the trumpets. Back when I was fresh out of high school and a music major to boot, it was astonishing when we would have enough trumpets to even need one squad leader. Crazy... I already know my number for the chart. A1. Trumpet section leaders are always A1. I see myself, little insecure me, being A1. Possibly being the person that the freshmen will look at and admire with the same admiration I have had for my three different section leaders... I can't help but shudder when I think of that, assuming that I will never be able to stand up to that sort of reputation.

What's done is done I suppose... we'll just have to see how it goes. And possibly practice a bit more this summer than I ever had any other summer... don't want to embarrass myself...

Friday, June 10, 2011

Of candy corns and ranch Pringles

I have a lung problem. I'm not sure a better way to say it. Sometimes I wonder if the pain is enough for me to take the time and spend the money to get a doctor to x-ray me just to see if I have pneumonia which I probably don't.

After the third or fourth day I started to recognize the process.

I wake up feeling great. Spend sometime on the computer, checking e-mail, bacefooking, writing sometimes.... that sort of thing. Usually my mornings are spent with the kids downstairs and me preparing myself for the day. Which usually consists of me sitting on my bum at the computer.

By mid day and I find I need to get off the computer and make food for lunch, that's when the pain starts hurting. The pain, sad as it is, is normal for me. When I bend over, pain in my rib area (around the lung). Deep breaths also bring on the pain. By all accounts this very much feels like pneumonia, but somehow I can't bring myself to get checked out. I tried that once before when the pain was so bad I couldn't breathe, and they x-rayed me and all that... but they claimed that they could see nothing wrong with me. They gave me a shot for the pain (which subsequently caused them to give me a second shot for nausea), filled out a prescription for pain medication and sent me on my way. (I have posted about this before a few days after it happened.... in the summer of.... 2007? 2008? maybe 2009? look it up if you feel daring.)

A few days ago, my sis in law and I went for a walk. At the time I didn't really want to, my lung was aching, I was in the middle of reading a new manga that I had found... I just didn't really want to spend the time walking. The walk was short lived. 15-18 mins. Not for the reason you expect. No, we didn't have to stop because of my lung pains. In fact, within 5-8 mins of the walk the pain was practically gone if not completely. We headed back because it was starting to drizzle.

Now, I still don't really quite understand my lung pain. Though I know it started to get really serious and cause problems from even normal day activities after I stopped playing my trumpet. I had hoped that the last year of school and playing my trumpet as much as I had done before would get my lungs to stop hurting completely as they were before despite all the times I had pneumonia in my youth. I see I was optimistic. Whatever the case, I am led to believe that playing my trumpet was good for me. Not just emotionally... but physically. It kept my lungs strong throughout the whole time while I even had the pneumonia, but also afterward. I had never thought of myself as one with "weak lungs" though I had been told repeatedly that once you get a lung infection, they never fully heal. But everything changed when I stopped playing the trumpet. I milled this over with my ob (when I was pregnant... probably with Goof Ball), and he said that aerobic exercise would probably be just as good as the trumpet.

Which brings me to the point of my post. (ignore the title, it means nothing) I wonder... if maybe I start my day a little differently and spend the morning using the Wii Fit or something like that... then maybe my lung wouldn't begin hurting in the middle of the day. I suppose it is either that or vegging in my bed all day (as it is proven that laying down for a certain amount of time relaxes my lungs... hence waking up with them in shape). I'll have to put this to the test and let you know. I have before spent my mornings without even turning the computer on until after noon. And I am not sure if I could honestly say that those were always better days, but waking up and taking care of myself physically and spiritually... might be a better way to get ready for the day than just spending time on the computer.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Favorite things: Shelf Flavored Milk

Yes, shelf milk. On principle I don't like warm milk. But the milk we get from the local cheese place is indeed shelf. You can get regular, or flavored. I bet if we ever got regular, I wouldn't drink it warm, but instead keep it in the fridge. For some reason however, when I drink the flavored milk, I am quite content to drink it warm. My favorite flavors are Root Beer, Orange, and Strawberry. I hear that once they had Peach, and if they still had it, I bet that it would join the other three with my favorites. They also have Banana, Cookies-n-cream, Mango.... and others I believe. Maybe not.

I woke up this morning to at least five birds. And they sang to me and fluttered down to my open window. No, I did not play a "Cinderella" and start playing and singing with them. The idea of being woken by birds chirping beautiful sounds didn't really exist for me. Instead they cawed. I'm not sure what birds they were, but it was quite annoying to be woken up like that when all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Of course Goof Ball wanted to wake up at 6:11 as well. I closed my window and turned over, wishing Goof Ball to go back to sleep. I'm not sure if he did or not, but at least he didn't cry anymore. That is for at least a half hour. Begrudgingly I got out of bed after Bug came up to inform me that the sun came up.

After we ate breakfast, I was in the office trying to muster up the courage to deal with life that early in the morning (at least for me) when all of the sudden Bug starts wailing all because Goof Ball "touched the blocks." Bug really is a good kid and shares frequently with his brother. Often, however, he gets in these grooves where only his way is the right way, and if others try to rain on his parade, a full fledged two year old tantrum ensues.

I won't inform you of all the other things the kids did to annoy me, but by 7:30 I was ready to go back to bed. Pro Boxer surprised me with cinnamon sugar bagels (that I ate with delight. after all, I only had one bowl of cold cereal) and we ate them while watching one episode of an anime that we had come across. After that I was in a much better mood, though I still wanted to hide in the internet somewhat.

What does all this have to do with shelf stable flavored milk??

Well, not only do I love it, but my kids love it. We almost go through the same amount of this flavored milk as we do regular milk (which is certainly saying something). I suppose one of my favorite moments is when we all have one of these 8 oz. containers in hand, slurping milk together with happiness and love.

And every mom will tell you that moments like that are what keep a mom running.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Introvert? Somehow I prefer "hermit"

[disclaimer: this is not directed to anything that anyone has or hasn't done... i'm just overwhelmed and need to get it out]

Sometimes... scratch that... often I think about all the people that I hold dear. My sisters, good friends that I have had since grade school, other good friends and family in my life, and I think, "Why?" I feel their glowing light just from seeing or thinking their name. I get overwhelmed by that light and wonder why they are a part of my life. I want to get closer to that light, but I turn inward thinking that maybe I'm just being a burden to them or maybe I did something to make them dislike me. Very likely. I'm only just realizing how much of a spoiled brat I was. "Do they even consider me a friend?" I wonder to myself. I haven't done many things to make them want to. I hide inward frequently which likely causes people to back off thinking I need "space" or that maybe I dislike them from something they did or some other such thing.

See? That's one of my problems. I think too hard about it. But a huge fear of mine, probably my greatest ever fear, is that those glowing wonderful people would reject me or my attempts at friendship. My overactive brain takes little things like people not answering phones or e-mails or other sources of contact into maybe-they-don't-really-want-anything-to-do-with-me-anymore-but-are-too-"nice"-to-tell-me-to-my-face situations. Yes, yes, I know it's unhealthy. Phobias are hard to control [stupid irrational fears]. And I would have to say that rejection, particularly from one that I hold dear in my heart, would be my greatest phobia. Spiders freak me out (mainly from the way they just pop out of no where), darkness worries me sometimes, but I would have to say that the biggest one is rejection.

Katy Perry's "Firework [with interjections by Shay]:"

"Do you ever feel
like a plastic bag
floating through the wind
wanting to start again?


Do you ever feel
feel so paper thin
like a house of cards
one blow from caving in?


Do you ever feel
already buried deep?
Six feet under scream
but no one seems to hear a thing?


Yes, yes, I know the song goes on to encouragement with a metaphor of being a firework and lighting up the sky. But I never get that far. I'm lucky if I can light up a room let alone the whole sky "brighter than the moon."

I honestly don't know what to do with myself. And I'm not even sure I am expecting an answer from anyone. As Meg Ryan says in "You've got mail," I just want to send this out into the void of the internet. I can't remember exactly how she phrased it, but I really like that idea. Which is possibly why blogging is so helpful to me. The void accepts everything, and though it isn't exactly glowing quite as much [if at all] as those people I so desperately want to get close to, at least the void is required to accept me.

So goodnight, dear void. Though I pretend I'm strong, I'm really just a small child curled up and sobbing. But then, you know that already.

Monday, June 6, 2011



And so another week starts... We are replanting some strawberry and raspberry starts as the ones we got originally we uh... didn't plant right away... and they look kinda.... dilapidated. I need to do laundry today. Though it seems that I have been keeping up fairly well with the mass of clothes that never dims away. One load a day seems to be working well enough and I don't burn myself out and subsequently killing my back from doing all that laundry in one day. Maybe I'll try to keep up this trend.

The kids are as cute as ever, but me, as their mom, I just say that anyway. Well... not all the time as you all have learned from all my complaints. Whatever the case, they are both still very much "momma's boys," and there doesn't seem to be anything to change that.

*boy, I am getting really random with my posting... sorry about that...*

The other day we had a bbq with one of my good friends (she was feeling a little off though, so she didn't eat anything, and really it didn't last a whole lot of time as her hubby needed to go off to work), and the neighbor kids from the apartment complex right next to us (on the side with no fence... go figure) decided that as we were already outside, they could come into our lawn and throw water balloons all over our lawn.

Okay, I'm over-exaggerating a bit. But nevertheless, I am dead tired of them treating my lawn as their own personal play place. I wish we had the funds to get a fence up THIS WEEKEND it is driving me that crazy. I don't know if I can stand waiting until nearly the end of the summer to get the fence in, but without the money, that may be what we end up doing. And cruel as I may be, I almost don't want to even let my kids outside, because that would call the other kids outside and give them leave to take over my lawn. Granted, them coming over to play when me and my kids are lounging outside is different than them coming over and invading our dinner outside. I guess I just fear losing what little patience I have about the situation as it is and outwardly becoming a raunchy neighbor. I am trying to hold the anger in about it, really I am. (and it is probably because I am trying to hold it it, I feel like I need to get it out on here)

Oi... the heat is rising the more and more I stay on here... I should to put those starts in the ground before they start withering as well as the first batch.

I know that I had something much more organized to say before, and I thought that just coming on here I would be able to remember the cute story I had in mind. Ah well... maybe next time.

Friday, June 3, 2011


Today Bug had his first "teenage" moment.

He grew freckles on his face.

At least I think it happened today. Whatever the case, I noticed some cute little freckles poking up around his nose and under eye area. As I think they are adorable, I thought Bug would enjoy seeing them too.

My hopefulness was short lived.

Honestly I didn't sense a problem when we were looking at them in the mirror, but soon after that he claimed, "The freckles aren't cute!" and he seemed on the verge of tears. Seeing something coming on, I decided to try to show him how much I thought they were cute, so I said I would kiss them and I got one kissed before Bug pulled away with a devastated look on his face. "If you kiss them, then they won't go away!"

And he practically stormed out of the bathroom. I followed and found him in the kitchen near the stairs covering his face. "I don't want anyone to see my freckles!" Honestly, I didn't know what to do. He really seemed to be acting like a teenager with acne or something. I tried everything I could to explain to him that the freckles were just a part of him now and not liking them, or being sad about them wouldn't make them go away. I also pointed to the many freckles on my arms (from sunburns... don't ask me why, but when I burn, I freckle... and tan a little... but mostly I freckle). I tried my best to explain to him that Goof Ball doesn't have any freckles right now, and that Bug didn't have any freckles when he was younger either. Freckles popping up like that is just "normal" and maybe the older he got the more the freckles would go away.

Through all my explanations, Bug said, "If Jesus touches the freckles, then they will go away!" I wasn't quite sure what to say to that... so I just continued on my thought process that maybe the freckles will go away by themselves just like they came by themselves. Eventually (I don't really know how) I got him to accept the freckles on his face. I continuously told him that with or without freckles, I still love him and think that he is really cute. After he had calmed down he said, "If Daddy sees my freckles, he might laugh." Maybe that was the root of his fears, as I never really got him to tell me why. (He doesn't seem to understand the word 'why'. I ask, "Why don't you think they are cute?" "Because... they aren't cute." You get what I mean...)

After that I started to find something for us to have for lunch and Uncle Kracker's song "Smile" came on the radio. It has been a favorite here for all of us, and I danced the first chorus with Goof Ball singing... well he was laughing... I was singing. Then I put Goof Ball in his booster for lunch and then picked up the big and still somewhat self-conscious Bug and danced around the kitchen with him for the second chorus. I think it helped.

So there you have it. If you come across Bug any time soon, don't stare at his freckles (really, you can't see them easily anyway) and whatever you do.... don't laugh at them. ~_^

So THAT's what you mean by "bad news" ...

If there is one thing that I hate about Pro Boxer's job is the unpredictability each weekend. Will he have to work Saturday...? Will he not...?

It is like a constant stressor of mine that escalates until the final moment when it is certain. Which is usually Friday morning. On weekends when he doesn't, it is like heaven. We get to spend the whole weekend together either doing family activities or working together with the lawn, or whatever it may be... but those are glorious weekends and I go into the next week ready for the challenge. Weekends that he does work, and the week after that, the state of my emotional self really depend mostly on how much I needed him the weekend he had to work. If I really did need him then usually.... I don't get over it until the next weekend comes and he doesn't have to work and I can revitalize myself. Which means... yes... almost the whole week turns out to be crappy unless I can find some way to cheer up my mood without that needed couple time.

Often I am okay with the idea of him having to work Saturday. Though it seems that most times I am not. Especially during the times when I really REALLY need to spend time with him. Sometimes it feels like he is working all the time and I get sad when I have to be away from him even when he needs to shower. Maybe I've got some sort of lost hubby complex or something... I don't know. Usually the times when I am okay with it are the times when I was aware of the possibility days in advance. Pro Boxer can sometimes tell when they are behind enough to have to work Saturday. Only problem is if he doesn't tell me. It seems the times when I get depressed over him working Saturday are the times when I didn't have some previous idea that he might have to. We still never know until Friday morning usually, but if Pro Boxer doesn't give me some sort of idea that it might happen until the dreadful Friday.... then I get depressed. And go figure... those are also the weekends when I feel like I need him the most.

Sometimes I just miss him a lot and feel like his employers have something against our marriage. "You can't be married to her, so we are gonna make you both feel like you are single to make up for it! So there!" We aren't weak enough to break up over this or anything, but sometimes I just need a little more honey time, and when I do, it seems like those are the times when overtime happens.


Wednesday, June 1, 2011


Is it just me or did May pass by WAY slow? Maybe it is my lack of scheduled things anymore (you know... like the 8 classes I had just a month or so ago) that makes me feel that way, but it just seemed that May was way WAY slow.

That said... I didn't have anything else planned to say to you all, so prepare for rambling!! Yay!

With all this relatively free time, I have been doing a lot of writing and have gotten a lot done to my story. For some reason this time around, the farther I get, the more and more I think that maybe the story just isn't worth all this. I shall continue to write, however, I keep thinking to myself that maybe I am the only one who really enjoys the story and think it is worth something. At a writing convention I went to some of the published authors said, "Your first story is good for you, but they hardly ever get published or are worth anything to anyone else." So does that mean that it is pointless to write?

I know, despite this depression, that it is important for me to write, if only for me, but I keep getting a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that maybe I'm not all that cut out for this sort of thing. What if all my writing turns out to be "just for me"? Maybe this is just a self-esteem issue, I don't know. But it has really been nagging at me. I feel like I have been working constantly on it since school got out, and maybe I just need a break or something? Yet, the words still want to explode out of my head, so it isn't like I have reached a writer's block (which I have before, and know how it feels like).

Last semester, I really found an affinity with nonfiction, which I thought I would never enjoy. Blame my teacher (who I absolutely loved and wished he taught advanced nonfiction), blame my preconceived notions of what nonfiction is that he blew away, but whatever the case, I practically fell in love with that genre of writing. So is that what befalls me then? Should I focus on writing nonfiction from now on? (Wait.... that's what I'm doing right now... though less publication worthy than what I did for the class)

I don't know if my rambling makes any sense to anyone but me, and I'm not even sure I got to the point. Whatever that is.

Whatever the case, that is how it is. I shall still write and I shall still read. Next semester I am not in any writing classes.... which will probably feel really weird to me. I will be in only one English class, the other two gen-ed classes and the Japanese class (to graduate with a BA instead of BS... really... English isn't science, no matter what people say). With all that, I won't be spending any time in the English building even though I have one English class. Now THAT will be really strange for me.

Oh, I got off topic. Yeah, I will continue to write, and maybe eventually I will feel that it was all worth it. I have other projects on the back burner that maybe I should spend some time with to get my stress dealing with my "first" off me. Who knows what caused it, and who knows if any of you care. The story is still very unfinished in my mind, and I will continue to write, if only to satisfy me.

Thanks for reading through my confusion and highly illogical fears.