aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Demon Child.
Hate him.
(Friend's son...)

It does seem like I'm always yelling at my son when we are around them, and I've noticed why. Demon Child will do something and then my son, who lives through imitation, will do the same thing, and it's usually something they shouldn't be doing. Here's the kicker, it seems like Friend is totally oblivious to anything her son may be doing wrong. She won't notice him throw the ball right at my son's head...on purpose. She won't notice her son smacking the glass table with a metal toy car. But she'll notice my son do it...
It's becoming frustrating to the point that I don't want to be around there, and it sucks because she is a great person. But her son is the devil incarnate and I really don't want my son imitating what that boy does. I mean, my son is no saint, but he doesn't do half the shit that kid does.


Great, baby Diva is fussing. God forbid I sit and do something that involves something other than feeding her...lol!

Unemployment running out...SOS!!!

My unemployment benefits run out on the 14th of October, coming much much much sooner than you think. I need a job ASAP! I can't let Daddy take this household on by himself! I think that financial burden would make his poor head explode! Thing is: he sold his little Green Car, so we're back down to one car and in order for me to get a job we need another car, since there will be dropping off of the kids to babysitters and different time schedules and whatnot. So join me as I pull my hair out looking for a car AND a job! Isn't my distress entertaining for you guys?

Pain Relief?

So I received this product in the mail, this Freeze It stuff, that is supposed to work better than other topical pain relievers...like the one with the word Gay and the name Ben in it. "Try it and see!" they said. So I did. Well, I got Friend's husband to do it for me. I don't usually get pain in my knees or joints (just my back and head), so how would I know if it really works? Friend's Hubby=Big Guy=Pain in Knees. Perfect candidate. He became my victim. I handed him the four sample packets they sent me and said "Call me after you tried them."
So he tried them, he actually needed them a few days later since he and Daddy were working on someone's suspension and there was a lot of bending down involved. (Big Guy loves cars, too! You should see his racer!)
Here's his story/testimony: (LOL!) "I put one of the packets on my knee after we worked on the car and it smelled really strong, but the smell ended up going away. The rel;ief actually came pretty quickly compared to other pain creams, and the relief lasted a while. I didn't have to reapply as soon as I would have thought I would..."
I thanked him for being my guinea pig and took his picture with the sample packets I was sent:



He wasn't shy with taking the picture at all! (And I don't know why this is underlined now...hmmmm)
And here's a commercial they have up on youtube, I thought you would want to see it:




So if you find yourself having joint or muscle pain, try this stuff, it should be hittin gthe stores soon. From my guinea pig, I hear that it works better and longer than the GayBen stuff, and the smell goes away, unlike the GayBen stuff. Try it and let me know if it also worked for you!

Question...

Weren't we already in Fall? Last week, freezing cold. Today, 90. Hmmmmm...

New Phenomenom

So I received an e-mail with the subject line "Tattoo Lovers" and I was all "HEY! I'm a tattoo lover, i have a tattoo, Daddy has four, I wonder if they have ideas on a new tattoo for me!" Open it up...yeah, it's a dating site. People meet each other based on whether they like the prospect's tattoos or not. Interesting, right? I figured they should have rather put Tattoo Singles or Tattoo Dating, it would actually have been more helpful in knowing what it was, but the website is actually cool, you know, if I was looking for someone to date.
The site has people's profiles, and most of them have posted pictures of their tattoos. (I DO love tattoos, so I started looking at people's tats...I love to see the work that people decide to get on themselves. I think it's a good idea, I mean why not see the tats before you even get naked! LOL!
Bonuses on the site: free to join, you can enter certain criteria that you may be searching for, and you can see who's online at the moment so you can send instant messages.
If I wasn't married I would be all up in that site...since I'm so into the artwork that people put on, that would be my whole basis on starting a converstaion, since every tat has a story behind it.
Do any of you have tattoos? Any stories? I'll share mine if you share yours...

i want to write...

but there's this little girl in my arms who refuses to let me sit anymore, as well as refuses to go to sleep at a normal hour. So until tomorrow? Or Friday? Or when she moves out???
I can't even read up on you guys, she's so selfish! lol....
hope all is well out there.
if you need me i'll be two-stepping in my living room hoping for some sleep.

I did what I asked my mother not to do for me...

My son's pediatrician is awesome. Little man gets sick, he gets in right away. Admittedly, sometimes he looks at me like I'm paranoid, but I still like him. He became my daughter's doc. But I remember when I was growing up telling my mother that I didn't like having a male doctor, and begging her to change me to a female. She never did. And as soon as I was old enough to refuse to go to the doctor without getting smacked, I stopped going to him.
I'm wondering if I should change my daughter from that office. His practice has a female doctor, but the times that Little man has had to see her because his doc isn't in, I didn't like her. I don't know what I should do, because I do feel that a female should have a female doctor unless she feels comfortable...
I don't know.

I got nothing.

The kids are sleeping. I've got clothes in the machine. Daddy is playing a video game. (ah, yes, what a grown-up is he.)

I've got nothing to write about.

I'm moody, but I swear it's the pills. Yes, my stupid ass is still on them. The gyno seemed to be in such a rush the day of my check-up, I pussied out of asking about something else so I wouldn't feel like I was bothering him. So I notice that the week of the non-active pills (when I have my stupid period) I'm super moody and sensitive. I cried because I had to wash the damn dishes...GOD! Who does that? I cried because my son spilled his juice when I should have given him the sippy cup, but gave him a regular cup. I didn't cry this much during my pregnancies! And with Little Man's pregnancy I was a crier, I would cry over everything, but not this much. I need something else. Ladies: what is recommended? Obviously something low-hormone or NO-hormone...
About the check-up: he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary with my cervical cells this time...last time we had the pre-cancerous cells and I was going back every six months for a scraping. So far I haven't heard anything from them, and he said no news is good news... so here's hoping it stays that way, what with all the cancer going around all willy-nilly lately.

Preparations are done.

She's gone.
She lost her battle.
It took ten months for it to kill her.
And now where does her family go from here?

I had always wondered...

I had always wondered where the apartment building managers found their mailboxes for so many apartments. Then I found some commercial mailboxes and that was my answer right there. I mean, in NY where there are twenty-some odd floors of five or six apartments for each floor, that's a lot of mailboxes to have. It's funny, because the mailboxes in NY are a lot thinner, just to make room for all of them. Don't try to get a package sent, they'll leave it right on the floor for anyone to walk over.
What I never got to see was the type of mailboxes the single family and duplexes had. I can imagine they look like these residential mailboxes. Wherever we were, we were always around apartment buildings, never around pretty single family homes, so it's only now that we're starting to see people that get creative with their mailboxes, painting them to match their houses, having statues and such things.

Another introduction:

No, i didn't go and have another surprise baby. This time it's my sister. I finally grew some and gave her the url to here...and right now as I write this she is home reading...and laughing...and possibly cursing me out...who knows. I told her she gets to pick out her own nickname, since I want her to comment on stuff. So I'll let you guys know when she picks a name so you guys can say hi and ask her embarrasing questions about me....or if it's true that they found me in a garbage can and my mother took me in because she felt bad for me. (She really did say that to me. Had me believeing it for YEARS.)
So, to my sis...have fun reading all the shit I talk! LOL!

***Updated: She started a blog herself!!!! OMG! I have created a monster! Here she is: my sister, Best Nail Tec at The Way I See Things...(yes, it's spelled that way on purpose...). Go on over and say hello! She wrote a post out to see how it works...so give her some time to really get hooked and start with the snark like me!

WTF?

Can someone tell me why people drive with dogs on their laps? Seriously, what kind of abnormal attachment do you have to have with your friggin dog that you can't NOT touch him for the fifteen minutes it takes you to drive somewhere?
I've seen all these crazy people with their dogs, buying them carraiges and water fountains (WTF???) and clothes, but WHY DRIVE WITH ONE ON YOUR LAP? If you see your mutt as your child to treat them like one, wouldn't you want the dog in the backseat strapped to something instead of on your lap where it can get killed? Or get YOU killed? And people had nerve to talk shit about Britney when she drove with her kid on her lap...oh my GOD.


DON'T DRIVE WITH A DOG ON YOUR LAP.

They should really start giving tickets for that shit, especially since now they want to give tickets for people smoking, eating, drinking any beverage while driving...

UGH.

Sorry had to get that off my chest after seeing a fucking dingbat swerving all over the road...when I passed her I saw she had her mutt on her lap. I was pissed beyond reason.

Why I oughta....

What a mess. My basement floor-besides flooding every time it rains too much or when snow is melting- is full of nuts and bolts and various tools. I swear I try to pick them up and put them in the buckets and boxes Daddy has down there for the intention of holding said nuts, bolts and tools. With Christmas coming I'm planning on saving up so that I could buy him a nice storage bin with many nooks and pockets for all his fly-away thingies. Those things are expensive, but that way he can (hopefully?) keep his stuff organized and his tools won't get ruined everytime the stupid basement gets a nice layer of water in it.
This post brought to you by CarGuyGarage.com.

Because my heart is strong enough for this, right?

No one knows how to break a heart like a child does. Especially your own child...

Apparently Little Man has asthma now.

(say it with me now....WHAT???)

He was getting what seemed like a cold. Runny nose, slight cough. No fever. My buddies at Triaminic decided to make my life easier and made their cough medicine in chewable form so that my son thinks he's eating caaaaaandy and he loves taking it. So two days of chewable cough medicine didn't get rid of that slight cough. SLIGHT COUGH. The other night I didn't sleep, my son was wheezing like crazy. He couldn't take a deep breath without sounding so constricted. In the morning Daddy went to work (hesitantly) with his buddy, leaving me the car in case of anything. By nine I was out the door because he couldn't even get a sentence out without going into a coughing fit. The docs took him in right away and when they took his pulse/ox (oxygen levels in the blood) I swear the nurse went pale. She went and got the breathing machine with some albuterol in it and hooked him up right away. He was entertained with the smoke coming out on the other end...if he ends up smoking when he's older I'll blame them. Well, they checked his pulse/ox again and the goddamn levels went down. Nurse dashed out of the room and came back with a liquid steroid (which I later learned was prednisone because they weren't even really speaking to me much, just trying to get the boy to breathe, which hey I didn't mind.) THen they came back with a new mask with a new medicine and they left me there to hold the mask. Now keep in mind that I had the baby with me, there was no one available to take her while I went...so the baby is awake in her car seat watching all of this and suddenly my son starts throwing up into the mask. I'm ripping the thing off his face and trying to hold him so that he pukes on the floor and I'm screaming for the nurse and I'm crying and shaking all over...a nurse comes in and takes Little Man and I'm freaking out at this point because I didn't know where it was that Daddy was working that day and I had to have him there with me. I ended up calling my sister and she left a client with wet nails to make a mad dash to the hospital. If I remember correctly I said "I need you." and I don't remember saying much after that because my mind was racing but a few minutes later she was there. Little Man was already back in the room with me, and she started reading him the book giving me a breathing moment. She says I was pale. Who wouldn't be, seeing their child not even being able to breathe? Not knowing why the hell his oxygen levels are so low...
Finally his levels went up to a satisfactory level and we got sent home. The story was this: Little Man may or may not have asthma. It could have been triggered by his allergies (we're getting a horrible ragweed season this year) and could only be temporary (but happen every year) or his lungs could have finally let us know that he came out sick like Daddy. Daddy had horrible asthma growing up, he was in and out of the hospital on a monthly basis. So we got an appointment for the next day to check his levels again and to make another appointment for a month or so to check again. We got a script for albuterol and this is what he looks like when we give him the pump. (No that is not Little Man, I got that pic off google, you all know my baby is cuter, LOL) He thinks it's a toy. He is fascinated with the sound the inhaler makes and always wants to press the button.
He is fine now.
I'm still not. I haven't slept since it happened because I stay up listening to him breathe. I was told to go straight to the hospital if he even shows a hint of wheezing again. That pic I posted yesterday- yeah right. THe bags under my eyes are big enough to fill with the luggage you need for a trip to Europe for a month. My hair hasn't been done. Daddy comes up to me and hugs me once in a while, he knows that I've been spending my days just listening to the boy breathe. I never knew how much it would mean to take a breath of air (well, when I had the baby, same thing, because she wasn't breathing.) and when he jumps I want to tell him to stop, but I can't stop him from being a kid. He hasn't had to use the pump today, except for this morning as opposed to yesterday where he was taking it every four hours or so. SO I'm thinking that it may be the allergies fucking with him. I've never wished for allergies so much in my life.

At War

Daddy and I argue all the time about who the kids look like. I'm going to see what you guys think...don't ever tell Daddy I put this picture up...







Who do the kids look like?

"There's nothing else we can do..."

Great words. I know doctors hate saying them but...

"We're keeping her as comfortable as possible..."
Bullshit. There is no comfort for someone laying there, practically paralyzed, practically in a coma, watching everyone wait for them to die.

My mother went to New Jersey to be with her boyfriend as he grieves for his oldest daughter, 35 years old, a prominent lawyer, a wife and mother to a four year old baby...my mother went to wait with him for her to die.
Waiting for her to die.

In November she went to the doc because of migraines (this makes me feel great, you know....well those of you who know about me and my migraines...) and they found a tumor in her brain. Chemo was started quickly...but just three weeks ago everything stopped working. She went into a coma and they have tried many many things, but now she's just on morphine to 'make her comfortable' and wait for 'nature to take its toll.' The funeral arrangements have been made, the casket picked out, the house is on the market...
Her baby cries for her to come home. How do you explain to a four year old that Mommy isn't coming home anymore? That she won't be there for her first day of school? That she won't be there for prom? For a wedding? How can a father watch his daughter die, when this time last year she was perfectly healthy?
When my mother told me what was happening I stayed quiet. I put myself in her shoes, and I cried. No one wants to leave their babies. No one wants to see everyone gathered around their hospital bed, quiet and solemn, waiting for the machines to stop beeping.
I sent my condolences to my mother's boyfriend, knowing that no words will make any of this better. I wish there were.
No better yet, I wish Cancer would stop killing our loved ones. I wish it would stop invading people's bodies, killing their cells, killing plans and dreams.
Fuck you Cancer.
Fuck you.

Mind Jumble

I've got a lot of crap in my head. I'm hoping to spill some out. I'm stressed.

• I'm doing naked potty training, my son gets lazy with a pull up on so he's been flying commando for the past few days. It's working. Not one accident yet, and I stopped using M&M's as a bribe. Only thing is I'm afraid of going out in public right now without a pull up...I can say that I am tired of saying "Stop touching your guevos (spanish word for balls, only not as vulgar...for a kid)." and "Stop shaking you guevos in front of the baby!"
• The baby is already moving around when you put her on her belly. I know she'll be crawling soon, but I'm not in a rush. I was always excited to see what new thing my son was going to do, and he did everything early...but with her I'm not in a rush. This may be my last baby, and I'm just trying to savor every moment. Every smile, commited to memory. After every bath I swear I inhale her scent for like ten minutes. Every outfit I put on her, thousands of pictures... That girl loves her Daddy. If he's in the room she follows him. Her normally greedy ass will stop drinking just to follow him across the room. When he gets home from work she practically throws herself out of my arms or her bouncy seat to get to him. He melts into a puddle grabs her and disappears into the room to play with his princess.
• I've figured out that I have PPD. But it's funny because it's geared more towards my son. I hate myself for it. I have figured out that the way my mind is working is that I'm an 'expert' when it comes to the baby because I've already been through all this with my son, but with my son everything is new and stresses me out because there are things that I can't handle yet...not that I CAN'T handle it's just...I can't find the words. I'm counting to ten a lot when it comes to him, and I actually haven't been yelling lately (I'm a yeller...man, am I a yeller...) but this thought came to me the other night when I was laying down watching tv after everyone had gone to bed. I love my son. He is my life. I just have to become a better learner when it comes to this growing up thing he's doing.
• What's awesome is he sings many songs, and he counts. But he seems to have something against the number five, because he skips it. And fifteen...and when I call him out on it he says "I know mommy...one two three four six seven...."
• I have also come to the realization that my son will always be ignored by Daddy's family. Maybe my daughter will be too but I just notice Little Man for now. It pisses me off. And it makes me hate Daddy's family more and more because of it.
• My writing is going to be boring until I go back to work, all I have is stuff about the kids which God knows is probably boring to you all. I actually find myslef grateful for doing some paid posts, because at least they give me stuff to write about. I only pick ads that I can relate to and can incorporate into my life or someone life...but at least they get my wheels turning.
• This helped a little. My headache has actually gone down a lot. Sorry if I gave anyone a headache reading this...

An adrenaline rush

Last year when I was at the Office, some of those annoying door-to-door salesmen came in trying to sell me crap. I was about to push them out the door when they told me they had discounted passes to a paintball field in Mass. My ears perked like a dog...Daddy likes stuff like that. I bought twenty passes for thirty bucks, and Daddy and his friends (took him a while to gather up nineteen people) went paintballing at this field that was set up like a western type movie. When he came home (with swollen fingers and bruises on his back) he was so excited, he was like a five year old telling a story.

They want to go back.

Daddy started looking for his own paintball gun on online paintball stores. It was like a new obsession that only temporarily took over his car obsession...

For weeks all they could talk about when two or more of the guys got together was their paintballing experience, how they were teamed up against some 'pros' that had their own guns and equipment, and how badly they all wanted all these 'cool' guns they saw...

At least Daddy was smart enough to find a site that had good prices and free shipping, I'm teaching the man well.

He still hasn't bought the gun, but winter is coming and that's when they are planning to go paintballing again

Too many presents.

We have a birthday party for two little girls tomorrow. That's two presents to buy. Last month it was four birthday parties. FOUR. And one of them was for Friend's son, Devil Child, so I couldn't be cheap with him.
My son's birthday is coming and I'm thinking (really hard...) about a small little party for him. I figure with the baby here he needs something just for him, since she gets most of the attention from everyone. But these parties are killing me.


I need to tell my friends to stop having kids.