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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. |
| As I'm sure you've seen by my handle, or simply surmised from my previous blog entry... I am home. I got home on Saturday, which was-as you know, the Fourth of July. I was exhausted, emotionally, physically... Just absolute toast. I napped on the couch for about an hour then went off to some BBQ thing held in the in-laws old neighborhood. You could call it a block party as they closed off a small section of the street and had tables out but the number of people could have been comfortably accommodated in any of the homes. Whatever. We left that and headed to my mom's place, with Chris' parents in tow. You can see the Milpitas fire works display from my mom's front lawn. Malcolm absolutely loved it. I'll post pictures soon. He loved it. We'd say... "Oooo..." He'd say... "Aaaa..." Then he'd bounce up and down, turn to me and smile, then stare back up at the sky. He calls them "pops". He stayed up very late that night, almost midnight. I went to bed soon thereafter and woke up on Sunday a little miffed that I had to get up but my grumbling got Chris out of bed only a few minutes later. Malcolm did let us sleep until 10 so... I spent yesterday dealing with things around the house. Did some laundry, cleaned up a bit here and there, unpacked... I "re-claimed" my home so to speak. I also took a serious look around and realized that although I've been trying to get things under control I am really not doing a good job keeping them there. So I've decided that it's time to get things back under control and to try to do a better job keeping things there. We'll see. In my defense a lot of things have gotten out of control due to the shit that life keeps throwing my way. But is it really any excuse for not cleaning my bathroom for two weeks or letting food solidify on the kitchen wall and referring to it as modern art when friends question it? Yeah. It really is. I like the modern art anyway. A bit of peanut butter, a splash of chili, or perhaps sloppy joe... For all I know it's fucking spaghetti sauce. I went to work today and in hindsight I should have gotten today off. I caught up on my sleep but fuck... My heart hurts so bad it's almost impossible to breath sometimes. I need a fucking vacation. I need a decade of no death. I need my husband to get a job. When Malcolm gives me a hug he says, "and a kiss too!" Then puts his tiny little hands on my cheeks, leans forward and gives me an open-mouth drooly kiss right on the lips. Then he smiles and tilts my head forward so he can kiss my nose. The service was beautiful. A lot of people were there. They showed a cheesy slide show that made me cry like a baby. Two people got up and spoke. His best friend, Hunter, and his sister, Kelly. You can read their speeches, and check out what kind of guy my stud-meister was here... http://www.myspace.com/spiffylatte So yeah... that's pretty much all I have to say about that. It was an interesting weekend. With drunken drama, crying and screaming, dogs trying to kill my Gam, and a general air of nobody understands what I'm going through emanating from Scott's immediate family members coupled with hatred, annoyance and so much anger it was painful to be around.... It was a fucking great time. Suicide is unspeakable. It's something we don't like to mention. The taboo of it is horrific. Sex is an easier topic than suicide. Seriously though, the literature is growing and so must what we say. We need to learn to be more candid about this topic. We need to bring to the forefront of people's minds what this does, what it leaves behind. We need to let people know, let our children know, that this is not okay. We need to open up about suicide and the after effects... It's time to start talking people. So I'm home from work and my kid is playing at the neighbor's house. His dad is with him, they went over there right before I got home. No biggie. I'm enjoying the time to myself and Spot is enjoying the faux-cuddle he's getting while I type this. I worked for eight hours today and when I came home for lunch Malcolm looked up at me and said, "Daddy's sleeping." Sure enough Chris was just crawling out of bed when I walked toward the bedroom. He'd gone back to bed after I'd left. I washed the breakfast dishes and made lunch for Malcolm and myself. We ate then I washed the lunch dishes and headed back to work. I was not happy. Thanks to all of you who commented while I was gone. I read them all but was too tired to reply to them all.  |
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