I was getting ready to go out for the evening when I asked my children, "Who's going to miss Mommy?"
No answer.
Thinking they did not hear me, as they were scattered around the house, I repeated loudly, "Who's going to miss Mommy?"
I see Bubba passing by the bottom of the stairs and she clearly says, with an evil grin on her face, "Cricket, cricket."
Thanks. Glad I got those stretch marks and breastfed you for months. I feel loved.
I am now the proud popper of four pills daily: 30 mg of Cymbalta to help with my overall moods, a prenatal pill combo to boost up my vitamin and minerals because I will be completely honest and say that I suck at eating well and getting my vitamins from food, and 30 mg of Phentermine, which helps control my appetite and gives me an energy boost. My sister-in-law dubbed it The Cleaning Pill, and I have to agree with her wholeheartedly. Once it kicks in, I start doing stuff like organizing the glassware by ounces, glass thickness and how likely I am to break them at any given moment of my normal clumsy day.
The Cymbalta is making me sleepy,nauseous and jittery, so I have been taking it before bedtime with the prenatal (no I am not pregnant, but since there is nothing permanent in place to prevent us from getting pregnant, better to take it and build up my stores of vitamins and minerals as much as possible for the possibility of a fourth kid in the future). The Cleaning Pill I have been taking in the morning. In the evening, my brain shuts down somewhere around 6 pm and I am begging the kids to go to sleep.
I am at the point in my life where I don't even wish that I didn't have to be on medicine to control my serotonin or hunger levels or emotional eating or energy. I am just grateful that the evil pharmacutical companies played with these drugs and found some that work. I tried Zoloft a few months ago while I was still breastfeeding and was unsure of how much longer Snookums was going to keep going. Instead of giving me a boost from my level of non-caring, it gave me a case of the I really don't give a crap and just want to sleep, eat and watch Desperate Housewives on TiVo. Doc and I decided that I was better off at a lower functioning level than no functioning level, and off the Zoloft I went.
After my horrible error that resulted in China dying, I have been going downhill and not enjoying anything. I owed it to my family to get back on something, because regardless of how much I feel I need to pay for my error, my kids need a mom who can laugh with them. So Cymbalta seems to be doing the trick after just a week on it, side effects aside. I need the Cleaning Pill for some energy, but am putting it to good use getting things organized and trying to pay attention to the kids more, be on the computer less, watch tv less. Snookums is asleep right now, Mower's at work, and the other kids are with my dad watching yet another kid's movie of which I have no intention of allowing the DVD to come into my house. Something with gophers or gerbils or something. I'll pass and keep watching Cars for the 247th time.
So in the drug-filled world of Peej , things are not up or down, just there. But I'm grateful to just be here, and hope they keep making the wonder drugs until I can start producing the serotonin and energy myself as the weight melts off. If you are local in my area, watch out--it literally is melting off through sweating and I'm sure I leave a snail trail behind me as I slog through the humidity to the store or guitar lessons.
China, our beautiful and sweet black-and-white Shih Tzu, passed away on Thursday from heatstroke. I put the dogs out on their leads, thinking they would again dig under the fence as they did on Tuesday, and left them outside with some water and shade while I ran errands and got Handsome from school. I had no idea there was a heat advisory, but even if there wasn't, I shouldn't have left them out. China's death is entirely my fault, and I hope I live enough of a good life and have some grace from God so that I can make it to Heaven and ask her for her forgiveness. Fuzzy almost lost his life, but our vets were able to bring down his temp, which wasn't even registering on their thermometers, in a short amount of time. He is testy and tired, but here with us. LJ was not affected really. I wish I could turn back time and bring them in before I left the house, but I didn't and there's no turning back time. I will always feel lower than pond scum and beg for forgiveness, as long as I live. Bubba was incredibly sweet that evening, telling me as I sobbed that China loved us, that it was an accident, that it was in God's plan. I try to remember that, but have been unable to get back to every day things since she died. China, you didn't deserve what happened--you were a wonderful dog.
I know, I know, everyone has an opinion. But I am hopped up on caffeine, so I will spew mine out like I just ate a bad Taco Bell burrito.
I would probably do similar things if I were them. Eight kids is a lot to shop for, for clothes, food, shoes, activities to stimulate and teach them, gas to drive the vehicle big enough for them, etc. If we were offered a reality tv show in order to capture fun activities and our kids growing up, depending on the circumstances, we might do it. I don't show our kids faces here because we are not using this blog to support our family. If we had a set of sextuplets, that feeling of privacy versus putting food on the table could switch in an instant.
I think people think they should quit because they are having marital problems. Yeah, that's not going to happen. I don't blame them for continuing. Ever cancel a cell phone contract before your time is up? They hit you with a hefty fee. Imagine the fee they'd be hit with for cancelling their show. They are doing it for the money and the ability to see their kids through the cameras eyes, since they cannot be there for every moment, see every face react to something, but the camera can help capture those looks. I would insist on being paid well for being on a hit tv show too.
I bet, because it's not likely they will go into their financial planning, that they are taking that $75,000 an episode and paying off whatever mortgage they have. They are using money from the books and appearances to put money aside for the kid's college funds. One season could set the kids up for Ivy League colleges for all. One book tour could be filling up their 401K and setting their retirement funds up so they don't have to worry about that. I bet they take the free stuff because it's offered to them, and the companies offering it are pleased to be footing the bill and getting air time on the show and in the homes of millions of viewers. If it were them nailing someone's balls to the wall to give them a free vacation, I wouldn't back them on it. But a Hawaiian resort knows that in times like these, a hook that people can be married where Jon and Kate renewed their vows is a pull to clients that wouldn't have considered it otherwise.
The clothes, the furniture in their home, etc....all of it is product placement, and if it is a means to an end and gets them money in the bank for both the company donating it and the family needing it, why not? Would you really turn down high end furniture if someone wanted to come in and take pictures of you sitting on it? Would you really turn down green products for your home for a few hours of a camera showing them installing it? Would you really turn down $75,000 a week for not even half a year's work to have retirement, college funds, wedding funds, a fabulous house, financial security and the memories of your kids' faces when you couldn't have otherwise seen them? I don't know that I would.
I think they got used to the people showing up at their door like they were a roadside attraction. They moved to a private area where they could avoid that, and give their kids land to run on without worrying about cars zooming by, without worrying if the people behind their house are getting zoom lenses and taking pictures between the blinds. I think they got used to how things were in the first few years of doing this, and it took them by surprise at how quickly the media would turn on them as if they are Public Enemy #1 for going out and living the American Dream of doing well in a short period of time and for not disclosing every bowel movement and conversation with someone who isn't their spouse.
Do I think they cheated? No, I don't. I think they are unhappy, and the storm that swirls around them with paps and tabloids and rumors is taking it's toll on them. Who has the right coping mechanisms for that though? Everyone is going to take missteps in their public life. They are not Britney Spears and shaving their heads, but the stress is enormous and fracturing what they thought they knew about what they are doing.
I hope they get the counseling they need. Every marriage has it's issues, and while they did put it out there for everyone to tune in, the nastiness surrounding people who take good care of their kids while having Christian values that are faltering for a bit is astonishing. If she were really as nasty as she is made out to be, Jon would have bailed a long time ago. Maybe she has gotten nastier, and this is her reality check to learn how to get back to the nurturing mom we saw when the kids were younger. Maybe he wants to bail....and maybe America wants to tune in and watch that on reality tv. But regardless, they are still the parents of kids, as I am, and they are not feeding them poison, beating them senseless, or having sex in front of them. They are good people who have gone to extremes of their personalities, and I hope they are able to make it work. If that's in front of the camera at $75,000 per episode, cool. Let them get their money--they are entertainers, and people aren't bashing Madonna for making that per show. They just have a different brand of entertaining and are trying to balance it all.
Snookums, the curly-haired baby currently running this house, has added an event to Mower's phone:
On Sundays, there will now be MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
I wonder what we're having, or what she thinks is just so good as to save it for every week. Perhaps it's for all of us, like when she picks her nose and then grabs at our clothing so it smears across our chests or right on our butt. I have been stuck to chairs more than once because of this baby's boogers. Maybe it's when she grabs at her privates as we are trying to keep her from twisting onto her back with ten pounds of poop flinging everywhere and our screams of "NO!" are taken as the funniest thing ever so she must then giggle hysterically and grin at us while doing gymnastics off the couch. Or it could be the time of the day where she lets the dog lick her fingers through the wire crate and then transfers the cereal bar from the clean hand to the now canine slobber-infused hand.
I wait with Advil in one hand and the camera in the other.
That Handsome is now verbal enough to pass the blame of his farts onto other members of the family. A typical exchange goes like this:
Loud machine-gun noise emitting from Handsome's rear end.
Me: Handsome, did you fart?
Handsome: Nooooooo. Not me. Bubba.
Bubba giggling, which makes Handsome giggle.
Me: No, not Bubba.
Handsome: Daddy?
More giggles from Handsome and Bubba, and a few from me as a large smile comes across my face.
Me: No, not Daddy.
Handsome: Mommy did it?
Me: No, not Mommy.
Handsome: The baby did it!
By this point, it's hard to understand what he is saying, since he is just in hysterics at the humor of passing the fart-buck.
Me: No, not the baby.
A few more audible and increasingly stinky farts shoot out of his body. Many, many guffaws as we try to contain our laughter and celebration that Handsome is not behind in his speech anymore.
Handsome (now matter-of-factly): Fuzzy farted, Mommy. Fuzzy farts stinky farts.
And then we all collapse into fits of laughter. I love that we can enjoy the simple pleasure of conversation with our son, who has always been more apt to point and scream than to talk and rationalize. I especially love how I can now fart and blame it on Nana and Papa, and the kids think it's a funny joke they want to be in on versus telling everyone in Aisle 4 that Mommy farted stinky farts.
I am trying to think of what I want this blog to be. A mommy blog? I have endless material, but a toddler who wants to stick her fingers into the USB port while I attempt to write things while they are fresh in my head. After Handsome stole the shift key off my other laptop, I am wary of writing while the kids are awake and can reach the Holy Land of a laptop keyboard.
A short story or article blog? I don't mind doing those occasionally, as I think when I get on a good topic I can really get going. I have a hard time right now balancing my completely snarky, bitchy self that can write and say funny things at someone else's expense and the person I want to be around my kids--someone who is tolerant, lets things roll off her back, someone who says nice things about people to try to show my kids that compliments win people over more than being a jerk. More often than not, I am snarky. But then I spend the remaining time worrying about how snarky I am and is it really making me happy to be like that, or am I unhappy and just spreading that around for a chuckle?
A blog about working out, cleaning, or having my shit together? Um, yeah, right. There'd be even fewer posts than I have done in the past two years.
A blog where I am just myself? That's what I am trying to figure out. Who in the heck am I? What's holding me back from being the person I want to be and know I can be? Why am I so afraid of just going for it and learning a ton in the process? Is it the painful process it can be? Doing nothing is painful too.....
I have some searching to do. I love writing, but it takes a certain part of my heart and brain that seem to be occupied by other things lately, and have been for a while. Is it worth the $120 annually of hosting charges? I don't know.
Depression has been kicking my butt lately. I can care for the kids, even yell less than normal, even get the occassional thing dnoe, but the depression has been there like a dead weight. I got put on Zoloft, which promptly made me not give a flying fart if I was depressed or the bills weren't paid, instead of anxious about it. I had an accident where two kids on one bike came out from behind a large truck, ran into and scraped the side of my Conformity Mobile with the handbars, and I was shaking because I was worried they were hurt, but not a tear. I was sobbing the week earlier because I didn't have my van cleaned, and then on Zoloft, nothing. The kids are fine, thank goodness, and we didn't even need to call the police or an ambulance or anything. I would not be surprised if I had seen the wings of the angels that lifted them away from the front of the van and the tires. I am so thankful to God that it was not worse, for everyone.
I am off the Zoloft now and awaiting a new med to be decided. And that's where I am.
I did enjoy the year overall, primarily because I had a healthy delivery of a very sweet little girl, and then I got the distinct honor of raising her alongside her brother and sister. So I couldn't ask for more and think I'd get it.
I finished my first book, a chapter book about a little girl. I sent in my first submission to an agent, and am fully expecting no response, since as soon as I sent it, I came to conclusion that I am missing key elements. I have gotten good feedback concerning it, and am learning about a lot while looking at it for the millionth time. I have a problem with writing simply and matching the audience to the voice. Or something like that that my ego can handle, because it can't handle that I write like shit. I don't think I am a totally shitty writer, but I know I have a huge amount to learn. I plan on rewriting the book and submitting it when it's ready.
In the meantime, I have been having a hard time with time. I rarely have time to myself, much less time to work on my book and having daydreams of being a sugarmama to Mower. I have three wonderful kids that can ruin a good concentration in a matter of a nanosecond. I am still breastfeeding, and do not know how long we will go for it. I am still very fat, and am hoping to get on a good medication to help with that after I stop breastfeeding. I am not complaining, because I love breastfeeding and have enjoyed that time with Snookums (her new nickname--Honey was a brief nickname Handsome attributed to her, but it didn't stick), as I have with all three kids.
Handsome is potty trained for the most part--he is just a difficult little guy when it comes to that. He's very sweet otherwise. But the grey hairs on my head--most of the hairs, according to Bubba--can be directly attributed to him. Handsome and his father--both of them are just trouble. Snookums is the heart attack baby--she does something and my heart just stops. Then she gets cuddles and is all better and goes off in search of other things that make me freak out. Bubba is becoming quite the handful again. She is always asking questions. Always. We have watched the Harry Potter movies for a year now, and the girl cannot stop herself from asking a million questions every time we see one. She is upset she is not little like her brother and sister and we ask for her help in things like walking through a store, not riding in the cart, and bringing in the groceries. Gasp! We are terrible parents, in her eyes. Imagine making her wash her hands before making her eat a nutritious dinner--poor parenting at its best.
Mower and I are doing okay. We annoy the living hell out of each other, but isn't that what marriage is all about?
And that's about it.....I haven't lost my desire for writing, just the time for it. Love ya!
So Mower has been drinking tea, a lot more than me. I have stayed the course and stayed away from aspartame and diet sodas, but I did have a few Barq's Root Beer for the caffeine to get my motor going for Thanksgiving Day cleaning, since we hosted 24 people. Most of the junk went into containers that were hauled upstairs and hidden around a corner, and some went into the laundry room on top of and surrounding the deep freeze. Anyway, so the root beer was gone and Mower (who has not stayed the course and has cheated with some Diet Dr. Pepper on a few occassions, the wimp) brewed some tea on the stove yesterday. He makes a huge mess pouring a little from a large pot into a small glass, and I am annoyed. That sets the stage for this morning.
Me (noticing the pot is sitting on the stove, half filled with tea, no cover on it): The tea doesn't have a cover.
Mower: I know.
Me: I'm not drinking it.
A few moments later. I contemplate getting some caffeine to give me the energy to decorate for Christmas today, and have that tone in my voice that shows Mower I think he is a dumbass for leaving the tea on the stove, and also just in general for being a man who leaves his socks on the floor minutes before we host 24 people for Thanksgiving. I stare at the tea in the pot, wondering how sanitary it is to leave it uncovered for 24 hours.
Me: Is it decaf?
Mower: Yup.
Me: So no caffeine?
Mower: No, no caffeine.
Me: I'm still not drinking it because of all the bugs we always get in here every now and then.
Mower: (slightly chuckling at my sentence, but completely dismissing me) It's fine.
He goes and gets his large cup, the Bubba Keg, which can hold far more than any human bladder can ever handle.
I busy myself holding the sweetest little baby who doesn't want anyone else holding her right now, but shows it in the sweetest way, not by crying, but by turning her face away with a smile from the person that wants to hold her and she gently places her face against the arm of the person she doesn't want to let go of. Yes, huge grammer and run-on sentence faux pas, but I don't care. I have the cutest little baby who is manipulative and adorable at the same time, a winning combination.
I notice Mower by the sink, not drinking tea. He gets this look on his face that indicates he is ashamed at having to admit I am not wrong. I see the pot has now been poured out into the sink.
Mower: There was a bug.
