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There is nothing special about me, I'm just like everybody else... |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** My name is Noelani. If you can pronounce that you get a cookie. Most folks just call me Noe, let me make that phonetic for you... NO-E. Very easy, but you'd be surprised at how many times I get called "No". It's enough to make me crazy. I'm going to take this opportunity to tell you a few things about myself. A few things you may want to know before you start reading my blog. I'm thirty something. My birthday is 9/11 and I was born in the year of the Snake. I'm a mother, a wife and all that entails...   My son, Malcolm David, was born on December 30, 2006.  I also have four cats.     I work at an animal hospital. I have a large family but am myself an only child. I do not like my Mother-in-Law. I smoke pot, and tobacco, usually together. I've seen my share of shit...  But try not to let it get to me. I'm biased and opinionated. I'm not a fan of Jesus, Religion or Church. I like to think I'm always right, even when I'm talking out my ass. I have a PhD in Bullshitology. Sarcasm is who I am. If you're new to my blog and would like to breeze through "Invalid Item"  , then please be my guest. |
| So I'm reading this article in Newsweek about the search for life on other planets. Scientists are sure that with enough time, interest and money the possibilities of finding life on other worlds are limitless. It's Nasa doing most of this. Who funds Nasa? Uh... the government. I have a serious problem with all the bitching about our economy when they're launching $600 million shit into space to take pictures and test planets and moons for water. Don't we have more important things to worry about? Here is a copy of the article... I've only read the first part, about aliens, sorry-don't spend that much time in the bathroom...  http://www.newsweek.com/id/212018 So in regards to our economy I think we should seriously consider a number of things that we, as a country, are involved in. Is it necessary that we be involved in this right now? Is it necessary at all? How much shit are we poking our noses into that is none of our business? How many problems are we trying to fix, when we have no right to run around telling other countries how to run themselves when we're obviously doing a shitty job running our own country. Obama needs to sit down and take a serious look at where our money is going. Cut the shit. Do we need to pump millions of dollars into the search for extraterrestrial life or should we use that for health care? Cancer research? Paying off our debt? To quote a Christian principle, in regards to a nation which was founded on such principles... (I'm paraphrasing here) Remove the fucking plank from your eye before you run around removing splinters from other people's eyes. I'm so fucking sick of this shit. What little news I read pisses me off. No wonder I'm so ignorant about current affairs. It is, however, an ignorance I happily embrace. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
| *sigh* Today was hot. It sucked. Malcolm and I walked to the library today, it's about a mile and a half. I'm not used to that and the three mile walk, coupled with the heat and the fact that I didn't eat breakfast wore me out. We got there in pretty good time, little over a half an hour. We went inside and I got a library card then we made our way into the children's section. Mal behaved himself beautifully. He looked through a lot of books, we read a couple of stories and as he decided which books he wanted he put them into the stroller. We ended up coming home with ten different books and only four of them were fiction. The other six were various nonfiction books about animals-in fact-we spent most of our time in the nonfiction section looking at animal books. The piranha book in particular held his attention for quite some time... but it didn't make it into the stroller. He did express an interest in a book about beavers a few hours after we'd gotten home. So I told him that we would look for a beaver book next time we went to the library. That appeased him. The fact that I have taken him to the library, and gone through the rigamorale of getting a library card has assured him that this will be a regular occurrence. As a matter of fact, his books are due on my birthday so it looks like I'll get to spend that very Friday heading over to the library... although I may try to do it the day before... it all depends on how busy I am. I might have to go online and get an extension on the books... or we'll just go a week early. He'll love it. On the walk home he sat in style, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, drinking tons of water and finishing it all of with a couple of handfuls of goldfish. When we got home he had a lollipop, looked through his books and then took a nap. We had a down right joyful day we did. I didn't get shit done but seriously now... *sigh* I need to walk more, I'm disgusted with myself. Three miles is nothing. For dinner we had lasagna. Or the grown-ups did. Malcolm mostly smeared it upon himself. He was disappointed because he wanted spaghetti, but in my lazy frame of mind I was just not up for it so I went for the next best thing. Oh well... it's not like I gave him very much anyway. So I have no grand plans for the evening... except perhaps to go to bed a bit early. Part of the reason that I'm so tired is that I am rarely getting a full night's sleep. Malcolm is waking me up just short of eight hours every morning and I need nine hours in order to feel human. I could take a nap, but I get so caught up in FuckingFacebook that I just can't seem to pull myself away. This is starting to fade, the newness, the excitement... I'm walking away from the computer for longer and longer stretches of time. I do have a question though... Why don't girls post their maiden names on these fucking sites? I mean, I get it... you changed your name and most of the people in your life know you by your married name. But what about the people from your past who want to re-connect, or just want to know how fat you've gotten? A few of my friends have not changed their names, so that's easy... and a few have even hyphenated for the sake of those who do not know their married names. Just a random gripe. Chris went to get ice cream. I wanted some too... I'm glad we were on the same wave length there. See? I really am psychooic. All right... the ice cream is coming and I do believe I have an Email waiting for me that may be important/entertaining/etc... |
| We all have mornings where we wish we'd never gotten out of bed. Or where we wish we could just go back to bed for about twenty minutes so that we can erase the first run of the morning. Life really should have dress rehearsals. Today was not one of those days for me. This morning I wished I could go back to bed and sleep through the entire day, to wake up tomorrow morning forgetting that the first 40 minutes of this August morning had never happened. Truly. It started out well enough, with Samson on the nightstand and Malcolm gently rubbing his face on Samson's fur then laughing softly. I opened my eyes to this and I swear I saw my kitten roll his eyes. (Mind you he's a fifteen pound, seven-year-old kitten!) I thought I may be able to pull Mal into bed with me for a moment so I could hold him, smell his little boy smell and let myself finish waking up. But he was too noise and woke up his dad so we had to leave the bedroom. Well... he said he wanted cereal. No problem. First I need to pee, get dressed and brush my teeth. I have learned the hard way that not doing these things first leads to a cranky Noe. He was asking for Special K... he likes the one with strawberries in it. We only got one box of cereal at the grocery store and I don't remember exactly why, but it had something to do with it being cheaper and/or on sale at Chris' work. This happens a lot mind you... "Don't get it at the grocery store, it's on sale at my work." Four days later he'll remember to get it and in the mean time I've been sitting at home with no money, no car and a child who wants what he keeps forgetting to get... dealing with temper tantrum after temper tantrum because when you're two the concept of we don't have it is rather difficult to comprehend. After I make it clear to Malcolm that we do not have what he wants (narrowly avoiding a temper tantrum) he makes his decision... he'll take Cheerios. So I open the box and pour them out... to discover that we don't have very many. We have enough for him to have a bowl mind you, but he may want more. So I tell him that I'm giving him the last of the Cheerios but that if he wants something else when he's done he can ask. This causes a fit to be thrown. He wants Cheerios. He's going to get the Cheerios. We don't have very many Cheerios and he sees me breaking down the box so he panics and thinks he's not going to get any. After being denied the Special K the idea of being denied his second choice is almost too much. He flips. After narrowly avoiding a temper tantrum about one kind of cereal I certainly can't handle another temper tantrum. I've been out of bed no more than 15 minutes by this point and am still foggy in the brain. I manage to keep my cool-for the most part. I give him the bowl of cereal and he sets it down on his table. We're both starting to calm down... ...or so I thought. I tell him to sit down and eat his cereal. No. Sit down and eat your cereal. No. Sit down and eat your cereal or you're going to get a time out. NO! So I picked him up and put him in his room. He wanted cereal, he got cereal. His blatant refusal to eat it, after pitching such a fucking fit was all I could take. No sooner is he in his room then he starts banging on the door. I open the door and tell him to knock it off or he can spend the entire fucking day in his room. I go back into the kitchen, fully intending to finish taking care of the dishes before letting him out. This will give me ample time to extinguish the fire that is my head. He starts banging on the door again. My head exploded. I stormed into his room, picked him up and put him on his bed. I ten started to tell him why I had gotten mad and why he was in time out. At this point the noise of his banging, my yelling and his crying have awoken Chris. He comes to the bedroom doorway and proceeds to watch and listen while I talk to Malcolm. I know, at this point, that more shit is going to go down. Every single time I lose my temper with Malcolm in Chris' presence he makes a big deal about it. But when he loses his temper with Malcolm I bite my tongue, because if I make a big deal about it then he gets pissy with me. Double standard? Uh... Duh. It's the same with discipline. If I'm in the process of disciplining my son Chris will interfere, but if I do the same to him he gets pissy. It pisses me the fuck off. So I send Malcolm back into the living room and tell him to eat his Cheerios before he gets soggy. I'm pretty pissed. My head is still on fire. I return to my chores and start telling Chris what happened while he stands there half asleep with a dumbass expression on his face. I'm not talking, I'm ranting. I'm getting it off my chest, I'm talking to a grown-up about what pissed me off... more importantly I'm talking to my husband about what our son did that pissed me off. I know damn well that he heard me talk to Malcolm. But I wanted, and needed, to tell him what happened. I wanted, and needed, for him to understand why I was mad and to perhaps even sympathize with me a little bit. Instead, at every single break in my narrative-every sentence end he said, "Ok!" Like his son had done earlier when I told him to sit down and eat his Cheerios each time Chris said, "Ok!" it got progressively louder. When he yelled it at me I lost it. I yelled at him to go back to fucking sleep because I didn't need his shit on top of Malcolm's shit. I had been out of bed maybe twenty minutes by this point and the flames I thought were almost doused literally burst through the fucking stratosphere when my husband yelled "OK!" at me... sound just like his son screaming "NO!" at me less than three minutes beforehand. He asked me what the fuck was wrong and I told him that I didn't need both of them yelling at me and that he should just go back to fucking bed. He started to get defensive but then I said, "Malcolm sat there and said, 'No. No. No. No! No! NO!' I don't need you saying, 'Ok. Ok. Ok. Ok! Ok! OK!' It's bullshit, go back to fucking bed!" When he wakes up, if he has his spoiled little boy attitude I'm going to freak out. The next time he interferes with my disciplining of Malcolm I'm going to write it down. Then I'll interfere with him and when he protests I'll pull out the note. I'm really getting sick of this shit. *sigh* |
| Yesterday was a pretty good day. But at one point I did snap at both Malcolm and Ellen. He was being two, and she was being two right back at him so I hollered, "Both of you-STOP!" She got pissy for a few minutes but I just looked at her and said, "If you had kept that up he would have thrown a tempter tantrum and I'm not in the mood for that shit today." She got over it. We watched 88 Minutes which is an Al Pacino movie that came out about four or five years ago. It was all right, not great, but a good way to pass a couple of hours. Nothing overly exciting happened yesterday... Instead of going for a walk to the bank I left Malcolm here and drove. His dad was here, sleeping, so I wasn't worried about anything. I was gone for literally 11 minutes. I had gotten his pajamas off and was trying to get him dressed and he kept running away, the third time I told him to come get his clothes on he decided it would be more fun to dive head first into his basket of stuffed animals so I told him that was it, I was going to go without him. I left him here with nothing on but his diaper. When I walked in the door, he was running around naked. He ran into his room and pulled his dirty diaper off his dresser saying, "It's broken mommy! It has poop in it!" I quickly cleaned him and and asked if he'd sat anywhere... yup! He said, "I sat on the couch." Joy... So I checked the couch, it was fine but I sprayed it with Lysol to be safe. For a little boy who really doesn't like to be naked he sure has been naked a lot lately!! Today I'm cleaning... and going crazy waiting for FarmVille to load. I hate it when shit doesn't work. Okay. I'm going to go tackle the bathroom and then try the fucking game again. If my raspberries wilt I'm going to be livid. |
| I fail. Epic fail. I have not logged on in two or three days, nor have I made a blog entry since Saturday when I shared with you all the adventures of Malcolm and Co. at the beach on a windy day, which Chex Mix. I wish I could tell you that lots of exciting things have happened in the interim. But not really. Sunday was... Well... What the fuck happened on Sunday? I think I zoned out around the house, played my crack farming game and played with Malcolm. I think I went a little crazy on Sunday. But Tom and Sarah did stop by for a bit on Saturday. Sarah hung out and played with Malcolm, she also prepared a veil for her friend's bachelorette party, which she was going to when she left here. Anyway, she was sewing penis toys and condoms to it and Mal was entranced, kept pointing and screaming "It's a penis!" over and over again. I told her next time she came over that we could do it without the penises. I think she fucked up my kid though, as last night before bed he told his Auntie Ellen that he didn't want his penis anymore, and could she please take it off? *sigh* Monday and Tuesday I got my sweet, sweet break from the hell that is Motherhood. Kinda. Unlike my husband, who sleeps until the last possible moment (thus making a hug and kiss goodbye about the only contact Mal has with him) and comes home after Mal goes to bed... I get to still deal with whiny, screamy, annoying child-thing when I come home from an eight-hour shift. It irks me. Anyway. Work was busy the last couple of days, crazy. We did so many procedures, appointments, etc... I loved it. I like being busy, it helps the time pass. Yesterday the doc and I did like... six procedures in less than three hours. Even Ana was impressed. We were seriously jamming. When I came home for lunch Chris told me that he had to go to work to drop off his bosses keys. There was no way he was going to be able to do that between when I came home, when I went to the grocery store and when the two of us went to the movies. So I told him to go ahead and take me back to work and then they could come pick me up. I told him to be there fifteen minutes early because we tend to get out of there ten to fifteen minutes early most days. Instead of being fifteen minutes early he was fifteen minutes late, and I was pissed. When I called him to ask him if he'd forgotten me he had the gall to tell me not to be angry. Ana hung out for a little while and kept me company, told me I was an incredibly tolerant woman. I guess I am. But my husband is incredibly tolerant as well. I'm a raving lunatic and a total bitch so... Yeah. Anyway, we ran home and grabbed the grocery list then headed to the store where we bought about $130 worth of food. It was bad, we were out of everything... snacks, cereal, eggs, flour, sugar... My hands were tied! I could only make dinner-nothing else. Even there we were running low on cheese and a few other things. I was hitting panic mode in the food department. We're all good now. This morning Mal and I need to head up to the bank to get some quarters so I can do the laundry. There are a few other things I need to get done today, as well as some baking. I haven't baked in a couple of weeks and I need cookies. I need them I tell you! grr... we need muffins too... *sigh* So yeah. Ellen is coming over later to whine about stuff. Last night Chris and I went and saw District 9. It was awesome and I loved it. I don't know if I'll ever watch it again, Chris says that we must own it. It was intense. Those movies that expose humanities true brutality stick with me for a long time. Children of Men was awesome and we own it... but I have yet to bring myself to watch it a second time. I really enjoy movies that remind us of a simple fact that most of us tend to forget. We didn't rise to the top and become the dominant species on this planet because we are creative, have the ability to philosophize and have these handy things called opposable thumbs. We're here because we're cruel. Or, as Stephen King put it in his book, Cell, we're the most murderous mother fuckers in the jungle. Did you know that we're the only species that will kill others of its own kind for sport, in a fit of rage/passion or "just because"? Yeah... Okay. I know this entry has been disjointed and lacking in true "Noe-voice" but I never said I was awake... *yawn* Perhaps a smoke and a 2 mile walk will wake me up. |
| So today is Saturday. It's... 8:30 in the morning and I've been up for about a half an hour. I need my coffee before I start screaming. A funny thing did happen this morning. I noticed that the porch light had been left on so I went over to turn it off. Malcolm didn't see me go over there so I ducked down behind the couch and said his name in a soft voice. He started calling for me in a soft voice, confused and maybe a little scared that I had disappeared so suddenly. As he came around the corner of the couch I jumped out and said, "Boo!" and he jumped about six inches into the hair, screamed and said, "You scared me mommy!" It was freakin' hilarious. So we did manage to get to the beach yesterday, but it was windy as fuck. When we got there Mal wanted to stay as far away from the ocean as possible, so he sat down by the retaining wall. I actually dragged him for a little while, which he found entertaining, then I carried him, then I made him walk because it was ridiculous. He did get pretty close to the water, but didn't actually let it touch him. We made our way back up and ended up camping near the retaining wall with the sand toys and tried desperately to play in the windy sand. He did manage to eat half of his peanut butter sandwich and some chex mix, covered with sand of course. I ate the other half of the sandwich. I fully admit to him pissing me off. He said he wanted his sandwich so I proceeded to clean the sand off his hands with my very limited water supply. I told him not to touch the sand. I no sooner finished drying his hands then he put them in the sand. I yanked his hands out, told him not to touch anything but the sandwich and cleaned them again. As I was squirting water over the second hand he put the first one in the sand. At this point I almost picked him up and took him off the beach I was so freakin' livid. It was bad enough just being there, it was like a mini-fucking sand storm, I didn't need my son deliberately disobeying me. Besides, Wednesday and Thursday he was a little asshole, so my patience was pretty thin by Friday. The third time I cleaned his hands I told him that he had to keep them up in the air the whole time or we were going to leave. Every time his arms started to droop Clare would offer him encouragement. We got them clean, I gave him the first quarter of a sandwich... I will never even bother to watch the little son of a bitch's hands before feeding him at the beach again for as long as I live. If he gets roundworm and goes blind then I will blame it on the following. He was practically dipping his Chex mix into the sand before eating it. Not only was he not the least bit perturbed by the sand, but he actually seemed to enjoy it. Maybe he is an alien.  That was the last time I got mad at Malcolm for the rest of the day. He was an angel for the rest of the day. I got my son back! That obnoxious, button-pushing monster has gone back to whatever pit he crawled out of! Yay!!! *does happy dance* By about the third or fourth time he got sand in his eyes Malcolm was done, he wanted off the beach and away from the sand, of course, in the time it took me to pick everything up and get ready to go his tears had cleared the sand from his eye and he wanted to stay. LOL But Clare and I were done with the wind by this point too. So we put everything in the car and started walking over to where Clare said a bathroom was. It took me about twenty minutes to de-sand Malcolm, clean up the mess I made on the diaper changing station and then go to the bathroom myself. But through it all he was an angel. I swear, that kid... he's like that old nursery rhyme... "When she was good she was very good but when she was bad she was..." Fuck. I forgot. Anybody remember that one? Anyway... fits me perfectly too. He's definitely my kid. After boychick got cleaned up we decided to go for a bit of a walk. We were right on the edge of Golden Gate Park, which, for those of you who don't know-is freakin' huge. In fact, I think that there are even houses and business within the boundaries of the park-that's how big it is. We walked through some "forested" areas, checked out the windmill, found some mushrooms (he picked them up and got spores all over his hands so I wiped them off with a baby wipe and then did something I never do and left the wipe there in the woods. Not knowing what the mushrooms were I didn't want any of their icky fungal spores coming home with me. Of course, I'm sure we have some in our lungs, so if we die a horrible, fungusy death you know why. We also found a dead crow, and as the remains weren't gruesome I called Mal over to take a look. We showed him the wings, and the breastbone-as that's all there was-and then moved on. He was fascinated by the fact that it didn't have a head. So after wandering for a little over an hour we headed back to the car. As we were in one of the "forested" areas we heard the unmistakable sound of two cars ramming into each other. Turned out it happened in the parking lot about fifty yards from where I'd parked. So while I had a cigarette and Mal ate some more Chex mix and Clare took pictures of the birds in the parking lot I watched the SFFD check on the car's occupants and make sure everyone was okay. Then we headed back to Redwood City to get some food and drop off Clare. We ate at McDonald's where Malcolm flirted with one of the employees and ate very sparingly of his french fries. Then we took Clare home, explored her backyard, met her dad and Mal got to see Lily (Clare's dog) who was surprisingly well-behaved with him (I was holding him the entire time, it's not that we don't trust Lily, it's that we know Lily ) Then Mal and I headed home, he finished his Happy Meal while I had a cigarette and putzed around online for a bit. Then he took his bath... and it was time to go pick up Daddy, and Magenta. When we flew down to my cousin's wedding in November at the airport, before flying home, I got Malcolm a beanie baby, it's Blue of "Blue's Clues" fame. He loves it. Loves the toy, loves the show. A few months ago he was watching the show and pointed at Blue's friend, a pink dog named Magenta. He had his Blue toy and said he wanted a Magenta toy so that his Blue could have a friend. I remembered there being a beanie baby Magenta and I told him that if we ever saw them again that I would get it for him... Well... they had the damn things at Chris' store. Mal found it when we were looking for sunscreen. So at home I made a deal with him; finish your burger and keep being such a good kid and I'll get you Magenta. So all I heard for the next forty five minutes or so was, "We gonna go pick up Daddy and Magenta!" Once we got to the store... "Find Daddy and Magenta!" It was adorable. Right now Blue and Magenta are supervising his play-doh activities. Such fun! Not much happened after we got home with Chris. I played my crack games on FuckingFacebook, chatted with some friends on FuckingFaceboook, my brother started a pillow fight with me on FuckingFacebook and... yeah. FuckingFacebook. So today I have a few random chores to do. Never did get the bathroom done...  and there's a possibility that Sarah will be stopping by this afternoon. Malcolm has been asking to see her so I threw her a text and invited her to stop by some time today if she was able to. So yeah. I'm going to go have a cigarette... I need to figure out how to imbed a damn video in here... |
| So yesterday, Wednesday, Noe's Monday. Malcolm was a holy terror. Pushing buttons, no jabbing at buttons and being a general prick all day. He did say/do some rather amusing things... at one point I was changing his diaper and I asked him what he wanted for lunch. His reply? "Penis!" I told him that he should be careful about who he says that to.  At the end of the day, after his bath, he saw Jorge on the coffee table. He spread his legs, leaned forward a little, looked Jorge in the eye, smiled and said, "I'M NAKED!!" Then he shook his little butt and did a little naked baby dance.Ellen came over yesterday for a few hours and brought a whole shitload of books for Malcolm. Some of them will be saved for when he learns how to read (but I may read them to him) and some of them I told her to keep because they were either really old editions is pristine condition or hard to find. She had two copies of Mrs. Frisby and The Rats of Nimh and I told her to keep one and then sell one on Ebay. Last I heard the book was out of print and my mom went through hell to get a new copy after I took hers. There were also some Roald Dahl books that I haven't read in years! My mom has then and I can borrow them at any time, but I don't yet have my own copies. So Mal and I may be reading James and the Giant Peach and The BFG pretty soon.  We also went for a walk around the "big block" after dinner last night, and had fun playing in a puddle. Perhaps the highlight of the day, however, was the fantastic dinner I made... That Malcolm didn't eat. Brat. I did chicken parmiagana for the first time last night and it was delicious! Ellen and I ate ourselves into a food coma. Overall nothing very exciting happened yesterday and today I get to clean. Yippee... Malcolm is treading some pretty thin ice again today, driving me insane and not letting me write more than a few words before I hear "Mommy!" *sigh* Tomorrow we have plans to drive up to SF and hit Ocean Beach, and we're going to pick up Clare on the way up! We haven't seen Clare in awhile so it will be wonderful to see her tomorrow!  All right, a short entry, but that's just because I have to get my ass in gear! |
| One of the biggest pains in the ass in regards to running a contest here on WDC is the ??? Emails that I receive. Those of you who also run contests know what I mean. You get an Email asking you to explain the prompt. So you do, using (in most cases) the same language you used in the forum itself. You get back an Email thanking you profusely, and occasionally the person will even berate themselves for being so stupid as to have to ask for clarification. My favorite, my absolute favorite however is when people ask me what to do with their story when they've finished it. Uh... Print it out, set it on fire and dance naked around the flames while chanting in a made-up language? I swear, there have go to be people here who don't bother to read the contest forums, they don't read the rules etc... They just Email the person who is holding the contest and get all the information they need... Thus making themselves feel special. Here's a little something... When I am reading contest entries I pull each story up in its own window and I scroll down just low enough to not see who the author is. I then wait a couple of hours before I start reading through the stories, reviewing and keeping notes, etc... When I finish the review and have written my notes then I am reminded of who wrote the story. I do this because I have friends who enter my contest, and I don't want to play favorites. Of course, my friends usually end up placing but that's just because they're good writers. Seriously. If I didn't do that the people who ask me stupid questions and refuse to use the brains the gods gave them would probably never place. They'd probably get one start for stupidity and that would be the end of it. Yesterday was kinda boring. We did have another teeny tiny dog come in with an injury sustained by a fall though. Of course, upon further examination the doc and I both agree that someone probably stepped on the dog while the owner was at work and then made up some bullshit story to feed him. Uh... People step on animals, people step on other people, it's life-not something to feel bad about. But you don't get four broken metatarsals from falling off of something. You get that from being stepped on. At least... you do when you're a dog. Malcolm and Chris went to the beach, and they had a blast. I'm sad... *sniff* They ended up in Half Moon Bay, and although it was overcast they enjoyed themselves immensely. Mal is still afraid of the ocean, but hey, it's pretty intimidating. Besides, there are sharks out there!!! They found some natural caves and played in them a bit, dug in the sand and then went out to dinner before coming home. Mal was so beat that he fell asleep while I was reading to him-he hasn't done that in awhile, it usually means that he finds the book boring, but not in this case. So I stayed up fucking around with my farms (yes I have two now) on FuckingFacebook and then went to bed. I was woken up rather pleasantly this morning, but at the same time I'm rather irritated in how long it has taken me to accomplish the few things I needed to do before getting started on my chores. These "Mommy!" interruptions that happen every 30-90 seconds really need to stop. Or someone is going to wind up in time-out until Mommy is ready for him in the mornings. |
| OMG Noe is blogging on a Monday night. WTF is the world coming to? Enough of that. I feel like a bad text message. So Monday, Monday so... fucking busy. I got up with the boys and got my coffee and my clothes and headed to work. Yes, I remembered to put my clothes on before I left the house, this is real life, not a bad dream. Besides, I'm wearing my rubber ducky scrub top today and that my friends, is a cool fucking shirt. Work was kinda boring, but kinda not. It was... let's just say that I was able to keep my sanity by checking FuckingFacebook every time I ran out of things to do. I have lots of new friends including some people from high school, my brother and my most awesome sister-in-law, Risa. I was so happy when my brother accepted my friend request I think I danced for about ten minutes. So after work I came home and threw all the cats into their various carriers and hefted them out the door. Malcolm was fine until I started to leave with the cats, then he started to cry and tell me not to take the kitties, holding his arms out toward me with tears streaming down his face... I think he'll have to come with me next year. He gets so perturbed by the cats leaving, it seriously bothers him. When Jorge had to do some back and forth in March Malcolm would have to "help" me let him out of the carrier every day when we got home. He needed to see and touch Jorge to make sure he was okay. When I got home today he had to watch all four of them come out of their carriers, make sure they were all accounted for. It was cute, but sad too. He wouldn't be this way if we hadnt' lost Shiloh. All the back and forth that poor cat had to do that last week. The times Ellen would drop him off in the evenings and all the effort that we put into healing him... just to have him go and die. It was horrible for me, but Malcolm never really got closure. I mean, sure, we told him Shiloh was dead, but as far as he knows I took Shiloh away in the night and then brought him back a couple of weeks later inside of a tiny cedar box. So when I came home he was happy. He even told Mr. Beaver that when mommy came home with the kitties that he would be happy. Cute kid. Loves those fucking cats. Jorge is so healthy it's scary. His heart rate is 120. Nothing weird about that, but in the exam room you expect a cat's heart rate to be just fucking zooming... Nope, not my munchkin! His heart rate is the lowest a cat's HR should be in the exam room before you start to worry. Strange. Maggie looked back through his records and realized that this is not abnormal for him. I laughed and said he was one mellow dude, always mellow, easy-going... But he's a fucking maniac. Oh well, that's my Jorge. Having blood work run on Spot and Samson, will get the results tomorrow. Biscuit is fat, but we knew that. Spot was an ass, bit me and Ann while we were trying to get urine. So she and I held him while Maggie got the piss... Stupid fuck. On the way home he pissed in the carrier. Normally this would not be a problem but Samson happened to be in the carrier with him. Samson is so mad at me for being gone all day then coming home and shoving him into a carrier and taking him to that place that I don't think he'll speak to me until morning.  So I came home. I ate. I fed the monsters, put the kid to bed and... Now I'm here, surprising you all with a Monday blog. Tomorrow Chris and Malcolm are going to Santa Cruz with Chris' folks. I wanna go too. I'm sad that I can't go with them, but Malcolm and I will go to the beach, just the two of us, sometime later this week. It's something I've been talking about and meaning to do for a couple of months. Now that Chris is working I can "claim a day" to have the car and he can just get used to it. If I only use the car every other Friday to go to the beach or a park that's too far to walk to, or run errands or whatever then I think Chris can deal. If he can't then he can get his own fucking car, because this one is mine. I just let him use it. I did notice something today, during all that driving that I did... Black VW's are out to get me. So if you drive one I'm going to have to block you, because you're out to get me. |
| So tomorrow is Monday. Although many of you would like to smack me for stating something so painful to you in such a straight forward fashion let me first say that Monday is both good and bad for me. It's bad because I have to go to work and like most of you I don't like to work. Although I only work two days a week, for a grand total of 16 hours, I can gripe about my job just as well as, if not better than, a lot of you. I have certainly proved that here. But Monday also brings with it a certain relief. For two whole days I can leave the cares of unswept floors, dusty shelves and dirty diapers to someone else. For two whole days I don't have to worry about anything more than a hyperactive child beating the shit out of me as he showers me with affection after my painful eight-hour shift. I might have to change a diaper, but the odds of it being full of shit are fairly low. For the next two days let "He Who Sleeps On Couch" care for the fruit of our loins. He also managed to contract the cold that the boychick has thoughtfully sneezed and coughed onto every available surface. How I have once again managed to stay well continues to baffle. Tomorrow I will scrape the keef from the grinder. Then will begin a period of sobriety that shall extend for an unknown length of time. Things could get interesting around here... They could get bad, they could get very, very bad. My mom is my friend on fuckingfacebook now. I love it. Yes. I am a Facebook addict. You knew it would happen, so please, laugh with me... Thank you. So nothing really exciting happened today. Although we did make the mile-trek to the CVS up the street... Correction. I made the trek, two miles total, while Malcolm sat enthroned in his stroller. The whole way there he wore his devil horns, only wanting to take them off once we entered the store. I think the chin strap was bothering him. At CVS we managed to get three new sticker sheets; Little Mermaid, Spider Man and dogs. Malcolm chose all three of them. I posted pictures of his art on... *drum roll please* Yup! You guessed it, Facebook. Laugh some more. It's good for you. Let's give Catherine a moment to compose herself. I'm addicted to FarmVille and I don't wanna talk about it. Although he asked for stickers for the rest of the day I was busy getting various chores done and fucking around on fuckingfacebook. It will lose its appeal and I will be able to step away for my computer for longer than twenty minutes at a time shortly. Like. Tomorrow. He refused to nap, instead banging on the wall and the door, singing, throwing toys about and generally wreaking havoc. He lived up to his nickname today because by the time we started clean-up it literally looked like a tornado had gone through my living room. It was scary. We had ice cream. We made dinner. We ate dinner, and throughout dinner he wanted nothing more than to stare at the pig that Krysha gave me in FarmVille. He named it Tom Sawyer. Then Brooke gave me a duck. So I named it Huck Finn. Personally I thought the piranha videos were more interesting. But you never know what's going to entertain that kid from one day to the next. For the last two days the only movies that he has wanted to watcha re The Little Mermaid and Finding Nemo because they both have sharks in them. He is currently so fucking infatuated with Ariel that I could scream. She has a forehead the size of Nebraska!!! I met a lady with a forehead like that in real life. It was huge and this pale, ghostly white... Her eyes had this perpetually surprised look because she's one of those women who plucks her eyebrows off and then pencils them back on. Her hair was a very dark brown, almost black. She had to be in her mid to late forties, and there was no way that she'd had plastic surgery-you could tell when you got close to her. That was just how she looked! She scared me. I avoided her... But damn she made an awesome chicken, noodle, casserole, thing! And to think. I had no idea what to blog about but figured I'd blog now because I didn't know when I'd get a chance to blog again and blah, blah, blah... But guess what? I'll be updating my Facebook from my phone tomorrow. JKM |
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