European Vacation

A lovely late summer photo I took outside my home that has nothing to do with this post but I'm very proud of anyways.

I'm getting ready to leave for Europe. No blogging will be taking place, most likely, for a couple of weeks.

In even better news...I'm back on the bottle thanks to my Donnausonne Hungarian red wine. Good god, I love that stuff. I'm ready for drinking pints in the UK pubs, funky beer in Belgium, and wine, OH! the wine, in Paris!!! Ahhhhhh...life will be very good, very soon...

If you want to, friend me on facebook (of which I will be updating my status regularly during the trip) and I'll keep you posted as to whether or not I've fallen into the Thames in a drunken stupor and possibly posting photos of The Man and I wearing our lovely embroidered berets and fanny packs to the Eiffel Tower in Paris. (My facebook name is "Kathy Robbins Riddle")

Au revoir!

Happy Birthday to My Beautiful Girl

My baby girl's birthday was yesterday and I was so busy flitting about getting everything ready for her that I didn't even post her yearly birthday post! Shameful, I know.

When it comes to my daughter, sometimes I am speechless. That's nothing short of a miracle for me as I am usually speech-full, but she's just one of those completely amazing things that has happened in my life that I don't quite understand. I'm almost afraid to be too thankful or to express my awe of her in fear that karma might just come up and smack me for being so lucky, but I have to announce to the world sometimes just how very, very much I love and adore her.

My first was a boy. A wonderful, robust, loving, challenging, astonishing little guy; I never envisioned loving something as equally. My second was something I never even knew existed: a female form of which I can never get enough. I can breathe her in and wrap my being around her and only hope someday to be just like her.

She's my hero. My hope. My joy. My Oprah (as in, "What would Oprah/Natalie do?"). My strength and weakness. She's everything good in the world and every wish I've ever made. She's the reason I question God and Heaven because being right here on Earth living life alongside her is the damn nearest thing to perfection/Nirvana a person could ever want for. I'll be pissed the day I die and end up at the pearly gates with angels singing while floating on a cloud of cupcake swirly perfection because I will have had to leave her. I will. That is, if indeed I do end up in a place that has pearly gates! HA!

So, another year has passed...all nine of them have been the most challenging and supremely sublime. I can't wait for the next and the next and the next and etc. My girl is nine. Nine! I don't ever remember nine ever being so perfectly lovely and bright.

But it is. And, to think, the rest will be even brighter...

Love Language

Incredibly

Dill-weed

Your mom

Outside?

Crazy

Cereal

Bubby

Sissy

Can I?

Beautiful

Pretty

Butt-monkey

Boo-Boo

ask

homework

practice

supper

laundry

doggies

purple puffer

Mommy

go

go

go

Be careful

I love you

All of these are the most over-used words/phrases in my house. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing. They define us, comfort us, help us to communicate our thoughts, feelings, information and affection for each other. They are what makes us a family; albeit a somewhat goofy family.

I'd love to hear what words/phrases your family uses that bond you together, no matter how goofy they are. Please share.

Purging

It still hits me every day like a ton of bricks. A little voice inside of me says,

"you don't belong here. hey, dorothy...you're not in indiana anymore."

I open my eyes and reality sets in as I look around a room that still isn't familiar to me.

"you're here. you can't go back. move forward. get a life. you have
everything to be happy about, to live for."

I try. I really, really do, but nothing changes. Maybe my heart's just not open enough. But, then again, maybe it is. I'm on the verge of tears always, just below the surface. It stings. Then it goes away. There's not enough lidocaine to numb this fucking hole in my chest, blown out by life and circumstances.

"what the hell did you leave behind anyway? an old house. family shit
that always drove you crazy? you should be glad you left that all
behind."

Well. I'm not. I'm not glad. I left behind so much more than a house, a dysfunctional family, crap. I left four people who sent early birthday cards so sincere and sweet it's just unreal. There are no people like that here. Well, wait. Maybe one.

"I let the world see who I am, but it just doesn't fit. It doesn't work. Nothing works here. NOTHING."

I'm just sad and waiting to go home. I miss the family who doesn't share my genes; just the ones who understood me, loved me without judging no matter how stupid I got. The ones who knew my history, my babies, and loved them too. The ones who knew me and gave their kindness so freely and stood with me, mourned with me, beside me, behind me. God, I miss them... that.

"i'm still counting..."

Big Pimpin'

Hey, Peeps...

If you wanna be my best friend, or not--please, please, pretty, pretty please go check this out. I just started writing on examiner.com and need some hits/subscriptions/and just a little of your time.

Bitch needs to make some money... Oh, and if I can do you any favors, please ask in the comments section. I pretty much do only menial tasks and things that might be considered shady by a portion of the population, so ask away!

I Guess Sometimes It Doesn't Get More Honest

Thanks to Erin at The Mother Load for the compliment (she gave me this lovely little recognition). It took me a few days, but I'm back and ready to share. I've decided to delete just a few things here, but with the support of my sometimes pain-in-the-ass husband and a few of you loyal and awesome readers out there, I'm gonna keep on saying what I think and feel. This IS my space to do it, so thanks for reminding me of that.

SOOOO....anyway, I think I'm supposed to share ten things about myself. I'm sorry in advance if this bores you to tears, but I'll try to make it as entertaining as possible. And it will definitely be some "Honest Crap".

1. Oprah looked down my pants once. She was funny. I don't think many people can say that, but I can! And I let her because she was, well, OPRAH!
2. I've been to the Oprah show THREE times, count 'em...one, two, THREE! All right, I'll stop bragging and stuff, but not before I say that two out of the three times I had a close-up moment on camera. Okay, I'm done.
3. I was also on The View once back in the Star and Lisa Ling days. I wasn't actually there, just got on the show by fluke at Castleton Mall in Indiana. I had a speaking part and was totally coached by the director on how to say it. I felt like an idiot. I never saw it on air, but some of my family did.
4. I went on a Booze Cruise on my honeymoon in Nassau, Bahamas and got pretty drunk with The Man. I also flirted with other dudes on the Booze Cruise. I don't think The Man cared because we were drunk. And married.
5. If I could, I'd have 10 miniature pinschers. I love them. But they'd all have to be female. I can't stand male dogs.
6. I can't vacuum my house in sock feet. I must be barefoot or have shoes on. Don't ask me why. If I am in socks only, I'll usually remove them before starting even if it's 50 degrees below zero.
7. I met a real Mountain Man once. He lived on the side of a mountain in Hyden, Kentucky--in the heart of Hazard County. I went to his "house" and he offered me moonshine, and yes, it was in a Ball jar. I turned it down and drank beer instead.
8. I toured the Top Gun school in San Diego in college--the place where they filmed the movie with Tom Cruise. It was pretty cool. One of the Top Gun pilots asked me out. I said "no" because I had a boyfriend (or two) at the time. If I could go back in time and bitch-slap the hell out of myself, I would.
9. I used to play the bagpipes in high school. I could still do it if I had enough lung capacity to blow; it takes an enormous amount of wind to play those fuckers. And those tunes! Once you learn them, you never forget them. Sometimes I still move my fingers to the music in my head.
10. I've been in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico in a four person paddle boat with four people and a cooler full of beer. We saw a shark and caught a lobster and found a sandbar and I got stung by some sort of sea anemone. It's amazing that I survived my college years.

So...there ya go! If you're reading this, consider yourself tagged because, right now, I'm too lazy to do any links as it is officially 2:45 a.m., my ass is hurting from sitting here and I am cold and wanna go to bed. If you would, let us know in the comments section that you are a blogger of "Honest Scrap" and I'll come see your "10 things" post. I love finding out little-known shit about people. But, I bet Oprah never looked down your pants...

To Delete, Or Not To Delete? That Is The Question...

Oops.

I think I may have over spoke and over posted and over photographed.

This blog has morphed over the past couple of years. It started out being a way to keep in touch with people we left behind by showing our new lives in a new place. It is now more of a diary of sorts. A way I have found to express myself in ways I don't generally do. There is PG-13 content, because I think it's funny and it's just a part of my inner repertoire. And I think I have more readers who know me in real life than what I thought I did. Oops.

In looking at the so-called "new" blog, what is appropriate and what is not? Would you move on to a new forum or simply hit "delete"?

I know I have offended in the past, but never have apologized for my thoughts and feelings. But the content? I've never been asked to apologize for the content which a young reader or pervert might come across. I'm thinking maybe I should? I dunno...

Is it appropriate to post pictures of my children? Their friends? What they are involved in? I'm not sure. Is it appropriate to post these in the context of my writing? I'm perplexed...

What do you think? Advice is welcome.

Putting the "ASS" in "ASSUME"

Do not assume because I don't have a "real job" that I am an idiot. The village idiot, specifically. Don't presume that I have no propriety or manners or brain because I am just sitting on my ass at home all day long being a sloth and not wanting to work, hanging out with four-legged creatures who lick their nether regions.

Don't assume that I have no education, no goals, no past accolades or accomplishments. Yes, even a stay-at-home mom can leave some of that stuff behind when she wants to; has to. To many a shocker: I can string sentences together in a coherent fashion and balance a budget, I can fucking fold laundry like no body's business, but I can also pump acrid chemicals into your superior vena cava and think nothing of it all the while making sure YOU DON'T DIE ON MY ASS.

I was once RN, BSN, ACLS with the SHIT. Let me translate: that would be Registered Nurse, Bachelor of Science, Advanced Cardiac Life Support with the Superior History In Training. Okay, so I made the last one up. But, do you know how long it's been since I've so haughtily put those initials after my last name? 9 1/2 years, to be exact. And I don't miss it at all. It never defined who I was and it will never define me now. I rarely speak of it today.

Today, I stay home because I live in a place where I have no support. Zero. Nil. Nada. If my son comes down with pneumonia for the 4th time in 9 months, I must be here for him. I have no Gramma or Nana or Auntie This Or That to come care for my children at a moment's notice. His Nana would be here in, oh, say 12 hours give or take if I needed a babysitter and caretaker for him. And guess what? I also want to be here when he's sick or for when she gets off the bus exhausted and needing to talk about best friends and how they shouldn't make you feel so badly when you just want to play with another friend at recess too.

Really. I know this may shock some people, but I am capable of making Important Decisions and Pushing Papers. I have led meetings and people and units and stuff. I've also been told that I am much smarter than I give myself credit for and to quit dumbing it down so much (that was my clinical professor in college). But I kind of like dumbing it down: it's fun. And funny. And it puts on no aires. It never says, "Look at me! Look at me! I'm smarter than you and I want everyone to know it!" Dumbing it down is way underrated. But look where it's gotten me now--in a place where there are people out there who think I'm a brainless zombie stay-at-home mom waste-oid slacker. Well, there's nothing that pisses me off more than being taken for stupid.

So, here I am, professing to the world that I DO indeed have a brain, and world? Would you please stop allowing all these people to make assumptions based on my "job" or perceived low ranking on the intellect totem pole? I'm no Einstein, and don't claim to be because yes, I only scored something like 1100 on my SATs, but maybe I deserve some respect as a human being who is indeed educated and not just an inbred Hoosier who doesn't deserve to state some facts once in a while to an audience who either knows or doesn't. I don't need your "I am an educated working mom" advice on who I'm speaking to and the manner with which I should address these not-like-you educated peoples. I try to spark enough synapses to stay on top of things too, even though I'm "just a stay-at-home mom." Thank you.

Jeezus. If I ever needed some brandy in my coffee, it would be now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Edited to add: This is what you would call a "knee-jerk" post in response to a specific stressor. And yes, I feel better and am getting a good laugh at myself right now.

All or Nothing

These are my mums. I kinda like them. They make me happy.

I keep starting posts these days only to stop and delete them.

Re-hashing painful or huge mountains of garbage just seems like a waste of time and takes too much energy.

I try to come up with something funny or poignant or useful--but I have nothin' right now.

Battles are being fought. Again. And again. And it feels like it's a waste of time. It's frustrating.

When is it time to give up, take "no" for an answer? And when is it time to keep fighting the good fight even though you're making no headway? No one is listening. Nothing is changing.

And it's not just one battle. It's many and it's tiring, wearing me thin. I'm not doing the good that I can be because I'm just.tired.

Maybe it's the lack of wine flowing through my veins as of late. I sipped the other night while cooking, but since the freaking barf-o-rama episode, wine just lost is appeal. Still. How sad.

Bright spots remain. I cuddled with Natalie today before school. I smelled her hair, breathed her scent deeply into my soul and felt grateful. I sat with my boy before he left for school, arm around his broad shoulders, and told him I loved him as I looked into his impossibly brown eyes. We stood, kissed good-bye, and his lips touched just above mine as he kissed me under my nose. It was cute. God, I love him. Her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another bright spot: I'm going to Europe soon!! Yes!! This will be the first time ever for me and I couldn't be more excited and anxious at the thought of leaving those two bright spots behind. I've never been away from them for more than, oh, six days. We'll be gone, very, very gone, for 13 days. It's a little daunting, but I'm sure it will be good. Travelling to London, Canterbury, Brussels and hopefully a stop in Paris. There will be many photos to come, guaranteed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just typing this makes me see that perspective is so subjective.

I'm getting it.

This One's For My Boy

Today is my boy's birthday.

He is 12 years old today. I can't believe I just typed those numbers: 12. It just can't be.

Every year, on their birthdays, I write to/for them. Today I will do the same. It just feels right, whether they ever read this or not, to write for them. Today, for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nolan-boy. My Bubby-boo-boo. My Bubba-wubba,

I love you. I love YOU. I LOVE you. I LOVE YOU!! I can never type these posts on your birthday without tears and pride and completely overwhelming, humbling, incredible emotion in my chest that swells with each word I type.

Today you're 12. You're growing up. But you'll always be My Boy, won't you? We will always have a special bond--do you know why? You probably do, but I'm going to tell you anyway. You and me? We're two peas in a pod. We think alike. We talk alike. We act alike. We look alike (I know you didn't want to hear that). We love alike. We laugh at the same goofy stuff (like the "Crap Store Buffet"!). But being alike isn't always easy either.

Sometimes we disagree. Sometimes you make me angry and vice versa, huh? Sometimes I see too much of me in you and I push you, maybe a little too hard, to do better; be better; work harder; to achieve more. I'm sorry if I push too hard. I just want what's best for you. Always. Always.

You're insanely bright, incredibly handsome; irresistible even. You are the most loving, caring, sweet-hearted boy I've ever known. Your love runs deep, strong and true. I think that's what I love most about you. No, I know it is.

This year has been difficult for you. I hate your asthma with a passion that I've never hated anything before in my life. Nolan, I stay awake at night, think of you every minute when you're sick and I beg the universe to give me your asthma; give me your sickness. I truly, utterly hate it when you're sick. It makes me furious. But Baby, I'll take care of you. I will. I will be with you, feed you, give you your medicine, find the best doctors in the land for you. I'll spoil you too, you know--with all the TV, video games and movies you want when you're sick. And I'll make all the ramen noodles you want, too. We'll get through it together. I promise.

This past year wasn't all bad though, that's for sure. This year you surpassed your Mommy in height, didn't you (although, that wasn't very hard, was it?)? It's so strange when I catch a reflection of us together and I see this young man standing next to me who I don't immediately recognize. It's weird. I can't believe it's us! You're so amazingly handsome, tall, strong. I feel so safe and taken care of when you carry and lift things for me now. And so loved. Thank you for that, sweet boy. You are my life's destiny, my reason to be alive, the very essence of my soul--you and my love for you.

I'm looking forward to this upcoming year with you. I love seeing you take off, so self-assured, brave, not afraid of anything, ready to conquer whatever crosses your path. And you'll do it, for sure. I can't wait to see where we are one year from now when you turn 13. Just quit bugging the shit out of me to watch PG-13 movies, will ya? I'll kick your ask.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

~Mommy

I Love Unicorns: A Post In Blog Highjacking

I just found this, Kristy. You rat-ass little sister, you. You thought you published this back in July, didn't you? Well, here you go. I'm publishing it now, just for you. I'll even add a little unicorn picture just to make it more special. Notice the rainbow in the background? Well, that's the closest I could get to having a rainbow shoot out of the unicorn's ass and yeah, that's Obama riding the unicorn. I'm going to kick your ask next time I see you then I'll highjack YOUR blog and maybe even wake up Addison from a nap or something fun like that!

The following is a what my rat-ass sister tried to post on my blog back on July 4th while I was visiting her in Indiana. Apparently, I left the computer on and my dashboard up, and she high jacked me but forgot to hit "publish post".

Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi Everyone! Happy 4th of July! I have had a fabulous day in Indiana! I was
in my sisters backyard when I spotted my very favorite mythical creature-YES
A UNICORN!!!!!!!!! It smiled at me then rainbows shot out its ass. It was
AWESOME!

~Kristy Speelman (a.k.a. my rat-ass sister, posing as me, Kathy, a.k.a. the brilliant and prettier sister and author of this blog.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. If you would, dear readers, please go visit my sister here. Leave a comment on her
latest post and tell her that her sister says she's a rat-ass. And maybe tell
her too that unicorns don't actually shoot rainbows out of their ASSES, but
specifically, the spectrum originates from the rectum. Thanks!!

You Might Not Want To Read This Post If You Have A Weak Stomach Or Get Offended By Overconsumption Of 30-Something Mothers

I got drunk Friday night.

Shit-faced, word-slurring, fuck-me-I'm-so-damn-hot-in-my-spankx, barf-o-rama, black-out drunk.

How old am I? Like, pushing 40? HARD?! I have no business getting drunk on Friday night. Not like that.

You know what The Man said to me the next day after having taken care of me while I spontaneously barfed and rapid-fire shit myself senseless (as I awoke with a possible brain aneurysm and found shit in my drawers)? He said, "What? Do you think you're 23 or something?"

Fuck-you-very-much, Man. Just remind my ass that I can't take these sort of young whipper-snapper antics any longer. But aren't I sexy in my shit-laced panties and eyeliner down to my nostrils? Not to mention how cute I make red chunks of vomit look stuck between my two front teeth...ahhhh...nothing says "I married a real gem" like those charateristics do, huh, Honey?

Have you ever barfed so hard that it came out your nose? I'm not sure, but I think I did. Sorry if that grosses you out, but that was a new one for me.

Here's what my dumb-ass drank that night: (1) Raspberry/champagne mixture thingy, (1) cheap-o glass of white zinfandel, (2) appletinis and (2) **gulp** shots of cheap tequila. Oh. god.

The entire Saturday was spent begging the Powers That Be to not let me barf again. And eating Excedrin/Tylenol/Diprovan/Fentanyl and sipping ice water and keeping a nice, cold, wet washcloth on the throbbing orb that was my head.

I can't do this anymore. I've sworn off tequila at least twice in my lifetime. What is it that makes me come back to you, you mistress, you Tequila? Is it your lovely fragrance of unwashed butt or the acrid burn you give me going down AND coming back up? I can't fathom what made doing shots of tequila sound like a good idea at the time. But for some reason it did. And for some reason, I did it.

Other things I've sworn off of and it actually stuck:

• Southern Comfort (lovingly referred to as "Robo" by The Man and me)
• Wild Turkey
• Any beer ending with the word "Ice"
• Micro or home brewed beer
• Weight Watcher's anything
• Giving blow jobs

Now, you'd think tequila would be easy to keep on that list...right? But for some reason, it keeps sneaking back into my drinking repertoire. I don't know why. It never ends up pretty.

I'm going to go now. I'm feeling queasy.

Yeah, you guessed it...there will be NO drink of the day this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have any good drinking stories you'd like to share? I'd love to hear them so I don't feel like such an ass.

Fruity Stuff

photo by the wonderful Liz West

I don't feel like making supper tonight.

I like to drink my supper. If ya' know what I mean...

I had a snack today that rocked. I must share: Greek honey yogurt, fresh raspberries and Quaker Oat Squares ("touch of cinnamon" flavor) nestled on top of it all. No wonder I'm not hungry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drink of the day: A Little Dinghy (just because)...

2 shots Captain Morgan Parrot Bay coconut rum

2 shots Malibu coconut rum

orange juice

cranberry juice

pineapple juice

Fill tall glass with ice, add shots of rum, top with equal parts orange, cranberry and pineapple juices. Garnish with pineapple and orange slices and umbrella. A little one.

Pieces.

Meet Co Co.

Photographed by Nolan

I've been thinking of many topics for a new post, but don't have a lot to say, but a lot of things to say about different stuff.

I just got back from walking my girl to the bus stop. It's just across the street, kind of caddy-corner to our house. Our neighborhood is full of construction traffic and I just don't feel right sending her out there alone. Besides, Co Co wants to take a walk now every morning and the walk is just enough for her short legs and chubby little body (hmmmm...Coco? Or Me?). My girl is in 3rd grade this year, but now she goes it alone every morning: big brother is in middle school this year and leaves us every morning at 7:30 on bike, with helmet-- a whole hour before she catches the bus. I can't let her go alone...not yet. I am amazed how others in the 'hood can let their not-even 6 year old go wandering the neighborhood amidst all the cement trucks, dump trucks, big white speeding vans full of tile or carpet or who knows what and endless streams of vehicles speeding in and out to a job here or there. Not to mention we don't even know the criminal background of any of these workers, right? There could have been a fatality yesterday with an unchaperoned child darting out into the street. A minivan stopped--hard--right after the bus pulled away. Where the hell was mom? Why was this child alone to with no idea of how to navigate the street properly? I was not watching her. Neither were any of the other moms out there. We were all preoccupied with our own. And I'm not the fucking nanny and neither are any of the other moms standing there unless you've made a prior arrangement with one of us ahead of time to watch your child. Pull your head out of your ass, for christ's sake!

If you couldn't tell...this is one of my pet peeves. And no child deserves a stupid-ass mother.

Not that I'm perfect. In fact, I'm so far from it that it hurts sometimes. But one thing I will never do is compromise the safety of my child. What the fuckity-fuck in the world is more important than the life of your child? If you can tell me, I'll give you a million dollars. Cold, hard cash. I will.

I have some venom in me that is aching to get out. I can let it out here. That's what I like about this blogging thing. Go ahead and judge me, but it feels good. My husband shouldn't be the only one to have to listen to my outbursts.

My boy is home sick today. Damn asthma. It fucking sucks all to hell. I wouldn't be surprised if it's pneumonia. Again. I want to cry. I want to rip it out of his chest and help him to breathe easier, like I do. Give him the peace I have and take for granted. We all take breathing for granted. But once that ease is seized up in spasms and mucous and overreactiveness it's all you can think about. And wish for.

I told you there was a lot on my mind. You were forewarned. And, unfortunately, this is all just the tip of the iceberg.

I feel constantly in the pitch of a ship on turbulent waters. I don't know where I'm going to be thrown next in the storm inside my own mind. What am I doing here? Is it enough? I'll go crazy if I have to think of another thing or chore to finish, another phone call to make. Am I making enough of a dent in this world to matter? Is there more than this? Should I be doing MORE?? I'm thrown overboard when I'm not expecting it. He throws me a life line. He pulls me back in and I am saved. I appreciate again the fact that I'm just here--living, breathing, giving, loving.

It is enough.

Uh Oh

Uh Oh

I had to share this. It made me laugh. HARD. And I cried a little too.
Enjoy, and happy Monday, y'all.