Am I Being Punk’d?

*Disclaimer: I’m writing this from my phone. My screen is cracked and extra punctuation is going to happen. This is not a typical post, it’s more of an explanation.*

It’s been a while, but I can explain..

I’m getting divorced.

Remember this post? Yeah, I’d just found out Hubby–who will be referred to as “The Ex” from this point on– had screwed my crazy crackhead neighbor. He didn’t “screw her over” or “screw together some furniture for her”. No, he straight up screwed her, baby makin’ style.

After almost 8 months of trying to work it out, other issues (with him) crept up. I realized I had never forgiven him for the affair, I was still bitter..resentful, and just not “in love”. Considering he called me a “cry baby” in February for not already being over it, we REALLY weren’t doing too well when I wasn’t over it 6 more months later. His new issues were too much and I was tired of trying to piece together something that had been FUBAR’d for months.

So, yeah, that’s where I’ve been. I didn’t quit writing for lack of material (he’s given me SO MUCH). I didn’t quit because I’ve been wallowing around in.self-pity. Trust me, I don’t need sympathy. I’m better than I’ve been in 10 years. No shit, my face is even clearing up. It’s just that– I’m still waiting on Ashton Kutcher to pop out and tell me that I’m being Punk’d. Not over the affair, but over the divorce filing aftermath. It’s been insane. I could legit be on Jerry.

In August, The Ex moved out. He begged me to hold off filing until he had more time to process what was happening. Somehow, even with my months of unhappiness, his numerous fuck-ups, and me admitting that I wasn’t in love with him, this was a huge surprise to him. HUGE. After he HACKED MY FACEBOOK and told everyone what he’d done, admitting to snooping through my things to see if I’d cheated (I’ve never in my life cheated and never will, not after having been through it myself), and begged me to take him back, I knew I was DONE-done. I know his intent was to apologize, but–you know–nothing says “I love you” like hacking a facebook, snooping, and humiliating your wife. Hellllo? I hadn’t told people what was going on FOR A REASON. Either way, out of pity, I decided to give him until the following Monday. Friday morning, I was served divorce papers. He was divorcing ME. Okay, that’s fine…on what grounds? Well, because I’m crazy. OF COURSE. Why else would I have stayed married so long?! I did see a psychiatrist for the ADHD and, after the affair, when my anxiety got bad again. Luckily, he was nice enough to write a letter stating that I was not insane.

All through September, I got calls and texts begging me to give him another chance. I didn’t respond. So, he took to harassing friends and family and spreading viscous rumors. More begging to take him back. Really?! Did you even READ the divorce papers you filed? Did you HEAR the things you were telling people as they came out of your mouth? Are you drunk? High? Probably. Probably both. Who knows, really.. Either way, NO! Just…no.

October comes and, suddenly, the calls stop. He isn’t calling the kids either. Toward the end of the month, I was in a wedding. I stayed at my grandmother’s so she could help babysit and so I would be closer to the chapel. While there, I brought all mine and kids’ clothing to do laundry. I had pretty much lived out of my car over the weekend out of fear that I would forget something for the wedding. After the wedding, I didn’t unload the car. I was too tired. While I was in bed, The Ex came and stole the car. Allllllll our stuff, including the carseats, were in there.

Early November, I got several calls that a female “friend” of his was driving my car around. Bitch was DRIVING. MY. CAR. Word was, they’d been seeing each other since early October..when the calls stopped. Let me make this crystal clear: I legit PRAYED that he would find a girlfriend. I had no issue with that. I wanted him to find someone else to obsess over, anyone but me. I was over it. Mid-November, we went to court. The car was to be returned back to me the following weekend.

Here it is, first week of December, and still no car. Supposedly, the girlfriend took my car and ran off with her ex. Fantastic. Fan. Fucking. Tastic.

So, there is the drahmz. It doesn’t take up quite as much of my life as you would think. I struggled a lot in the beginning, but not so much anymore. I made a decision a few months ago:  I’m 26–a lot of life left, and I will keep nothing short of AMAZING people in my life from now on. I have some pretty amazing people in my life that make me far happier than he makes me miserable.

If we have a good relationship (friend, family, or otherwise) of some sort now or in the future, rest assured that I fucking love you and your presence. If you start sucking, you are out. GONE. Ain’t nobody got time fa dat! I’m not wasting anymore time on being miserable. 10 years was long enough.

If you, by chance, wonder if I will change the name of this..maybe. Maybe NEXT YEAR. This bitch is paid up until July!

Oddly Comfortable With Myself..

I have spent the last 11 years or so trying to lose weight or “fix” my body in one way or another. Every year, I’d look at pictures of myself from the year before and I’d wish I still looked like that. In 2010, I was wishing I looked like I had in 2009. In 2011, I was wishing I looked like I had in 2010. I’d spend so much time on my scale and wishing I looked different, that I never appreciated how I looked at that time. I was never happy with myself.

I currently weigh about 10-15 lbs more than I did last summer; however, I weigh about 15 lbs less than I did 6 months ago. I started Abilify at the end of last summer and gained 30 lbs from mid-July til the end of October (when I quit taking the Abilify). Last year, when I first reached this weight–on my way UP in weight–I cried. This time–as my weight dropped back down to this weight, I am happy. I am comfortable.

I finally feel perfectly happy in the clothes that I wear. I know I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I don’t care. I am heavier than I have ever been naturally (meaning, not postpartum or due to medication), but I’m okay with that. My clothes fit fine, my husband thinks I look great (he’s an ass man, my weight gain works in his favor), and I don’t feel stressed. If my new medication makes me lose weight (common side effect), great. If I stay the same weight, great.

I still wear a bikini and don’t give a shit if some random person thinks I need to cover up. Too bad! I still wear shorts and dresses, and I have always hated my legs. It feels good to not hate them so much anymore.

One thing I do want to change, is my health. I eat crap food and should really start eating healthier. I’ll work on it. But, my focus is on getting healthy and gaining energy …maybe relieve myself of some of this constant brain fog. If I don’t lose an ounce, though, I won’t shed any tears.

I feel happier now and less stressed. My husband is happy with me and I’m happy with me, and that’s all that matters, right? Life is too short to stress about what everyone else thinks.

P.S.
I like Oreos.

P.S.S.
Abilify can suck it.

Bottle of Wine: $19.99, Cheesecake: $8.49, Fifteen Minutes of Silence: PRICELESS

I love my family. I really, really do. Those 3 people are my heart, my life…they are my world. I really do LOVE being a stay at home mom and once both kids are in school, I will probably spend my days wishing I had these days back. I rant about them a lot, but I truly do enjoy my family.

Now, with that said, can everyone just calm the eff down for a minute? Please? Dayum!

Here is a little PSA:

Moms get over-stimulated, too!

All day long, the kids are yelling:

Mommy! Mommy! Mom..momma..moooommmmmmaaaaa! I’m hungry! I’m thirsty! Wipe me! I want chocolate milk! No, regular milk! I wanted JUUUIIICCCEEE! I said I needed to be wiped! Can I go outside? Can I come inside? Can I go pee? Can I sit down? Can I stand up? Can I spin in a circle? Can I breath air? Hey, mommy! Watch what I can do! OWWWWW! I did that thing you told me not to do and I hurt myself on the coffee table! WHY DID YOU PUT THE COFFEE TABLE THERE?! Little girls can jump off the couch and get HURT when you put coffee tables in the living room! FEEEEED MEEEEE!

Meanwhile, in the background, the tv is screaming:

Spongebob Squarepants, spongebob squarepants, spongebob squarepants, sponnnngebobbb squarepannnnnnts…

…and all I can do is lock myself in the bathroom for 2 minutes, sit in the empty tub, and rock back and forth while hugging my knees and loudly singing Livin’ On A Prayer. I pray that Hubby will hurry home to help out, but the second he walks through the door:

(((CHILDREN)), Hubby, [Television]

(((DADDDDDDDYYYYY!!!))) Hey! What have you been doing all day? (((I’m SOOO hungry!))) Where are my jeans? Can we eat? Did you lay anything out? [Spongebob Squarepants, Spongebob Squarepants..] (((*Samurai loudly sings made up song*))) Have you seen my shoes? Hey, will you come help me for a minute? Babe? Baby? (((Can I have a popsicle??))) Why do you look so stressed? I know, I’ll turn the TV up really loud– as though I have a legitimate hearing problem! That will make you feel better! (((Mom! Come in the bathroom..I pottied and it looks funny..))) About dinner..Why are your eyes burning holes into my skull? Oh, you want the TV louder? [It’s the best day EVVVEEERRRR..] (((She’s looking at ME!)))

My smidgen of remaining sanity… my livelihood… my ability to love–each relies heavily on two things:

My kids’ bedtime and Hubby’s nightly shower

Those 15-20 minutes are so refreshing. That’s all it takes to be reminded of all the reasons I’ve never actually run away. During that sacred time, I get to drink wine, I get to stuff my face with whatever junk I can find without anyone seeing the animal I really am, and I get to do it—in total frickin’ silence.

PRICELESS.

Married With ADHD: The Blame Game & Future Headline News

The Blame Game is super popular around here. Having been diagnosed with a pretty severe case of ADHD and being married to a man who has also been diagnosed, I assume it’s fairly normal.

-Where are my shoes?
-Last time I was wearing them…
-If you don’t help me find them, I’m going to be late!

-Have you seen my keys?
-No, have you seen mine?

-Where did we park?

-Why didn’t you remind me to turn?! Now, we’ve missed our exit and can’t turn around for 2 miles!
-I forgot where we were going! Besides, you didn’t remind me to remind you!

-Can you remind me that I have an appointment tomorrow?
-Sure, if I remember.

-I forgot about my appointment today and can’t be seen again for another two months! Why didn’t you remind me?!
-I forgot, too! It’s not my responsibility to keep up with your appointments!

-Tomorrow night, we cannot get sidetracked and wait until 12 AM to go to bed!

-Hey, you ready for bed?
(hyper-focusing) -Yeah…5 more minutes! I’ve just got to finish this one thing…
-Seriously? It’s 10 PM!
(2 hrs later) -Okay, I’m done. You ready?
-Give me just a minute, I’m reading something..

-I’m going to make a grocery list so we won’t forget what we need..

-Where is the grocery list?
-Fuck! I forgot it!

-When do I get my ring?
-What ring?
-The ring you said you were having set with the emerald you brought home for me from your last deployment…remember? You said you were going to have it set for me almost 2 months ago.
-Oh, umm..you didn’t remind me! You were supposed to remind to do the sweet things I claimed I was going to do for you all on my own!

On top of the forgetfulness and hyper-focusing, organization is a total bust. My husband also has a slight hoarding problem. If it’s free or someone is giving it away for “REALLY CHEAP!”, he brings it home. It doesn’t matter if we need it. Okay, I might have a problem, too. Maybe… but, ANYWAY! Every single one of our closets are packed full. I warn people that they shouldn’t open them, or do so at their own risk. Nine out of ten drawers are junk drawers. At one time, we had an entire room of “Shit that I have no clue where it goes..”. Now, that shit is spread around, randomly. I am just waiting for the day that headline news reads:

Undomesticated Housewife & Hubby Found Buried Alive Beneath Their Own Clutter

Now, here we are..getting ready to move, and I’m totally lost. I’ll think somewhere like a bathroom is a good place to start packing,  but I quickly get overwhelmed and stop. Kitchen? Maybe.. But what first? Pans? Plates? Medicine cabinet? Sure, lets venture into the medicine cabinet and pack away the non-essentials.

Oh, look, here are Sugar’s crafts from Christmas! I should do something with these…they shouldn’t be packed with the medications..

Realizing I’m off track, I move to the pantry.

Hey! There’s the Tupperware I have been looking for..and brownie mix. Mmmmm, brownies. I should make some…

Screw it. I quit.

Winning At Discipline!

“Some’uh y’all done lost y’all minds,
Some’uh y’all done lost y’all minds,
Some’uh y’all done lost y’all minds,
And it made me cry, cry, cry.”
-Kilo Ali

Kilo wrote this chorus with me and my future children in mind. He was specifically thinking of how this past week would be for us, I’m fairly certain.

Lately, Sugar has been very, how do I put it?..DESTRUCTIVE. Sugar and The Samurai have both been destructive, really. It has gone way past the typical shredding of anything shreddable and disassembling anything with multiple parts. I have cleaned up insane amounts water, paint, whiteout, sugar (of the edible variety), salt, and toothpaste out of the children’s bathroom floor. I have scrubbed toothpaste out of rugs. I have cleaned cereal out of my living room floor. I cleaned glitter glue off of my hardwoods.

Not my kids.

I can’t let my 5 year old go potty alone anymore, nor can I go to bed at night without waking to some sort of unnatural disaster having occurred in one room or another. They either do it instead of pottying, pretend to be sleeping and do it once I’ve fallen asleep, or they wake up ridiculously early and do it before I realize they are up. I am just going to start including my Klonopin in my morning cocktail of drugs I take to function.

I am already taking it damn near daily anyway! (Chill out, I have a script) Hell, I took a piece of one half-way through a grocery store run tonight–just to stop myself from parking the buggy containing the kids down an empty aisle..and running. Fast.

I have tried every form of discipline known to man, short of stringing them in a tree by their toenails. That’s next.

I’ve gone the gentle route..talking. I think I’m doing it wrong. They smile at me the entire me I’m speaking. When I ask why they did whatever it was, they laugh and say something like, “Because my brain is a silly brain and it told me to!” Sometimes, they just say, “POOP!” /sigh

I’ve tried time-out. It isn’t effective for one of two possible reasons: 1.) They don’t care; or 2.) I have ADHD and forget they are in time out 30 seconds after I put them there. It’s probably both.

I’ve tried “grounding” them from certain things. They haz no caring.

I’ve even done the unspeakable…I spanked. When your kids giggle while you are spanking them, you are doing it wrong. I am doing it wrong.

I give up.

When two people love each other very, very much..they make a baby. Or two.

I know I have been MIA again lately, but..nothing. I have no excuses. Well, I have one..sort of. I intended on this being a light-hearted and somewhat humorous blog (which is why the last post is gone..too much dramaz!), and the truth is: I don’t think I’m all that funny that often. Others tend to agree. In fact, my younger sister told me that the first time my dad read this blog, he said something along the lines of, “Huh. I didn’t know she could be funny.” Thanks, dad.

Annnnyway, I have a lot on my plate right now. Some of it is so top secret that my husband won’t let me even talk about it yet. If those who knew me did not know that I wrote this, it wouldn’t matter. BUT, I have friends who know and like to use my name when leaving comments or writing on the facebook wall. Thanks, guys! 😉 Now that I have gone off on another ADHD tangent, I’ll try to get back to what I was saying.

Ahem. I have a lot on my plate right now. I know they say that opposites attract, but that isn’t always the case. It isn’t in MY case. Aside from politics (SO not going there), my husband and I are pretty similar. We have a similar sense of humor, we like the same music, we were raised with most of the same values..I could go on. We also both suffered from anxiety as children (I still do) and both have pretty severe cases of ADHD. Apparently, when two people like us procreate, they end up with one child with such severe anxiety that she no longer wants to leave the house, and another who will ask you the same question 152 times and still say “What?” each time you answer with the exact same answer..all because there is something shiny in his peripheral prohibiting him from processing that answer.

Right now, the only time The Samurai’s issue is REALLY difficult for me to deal with, is when I tell him to go pee after catching him doing the I Need To Potty dance and he comes back soaking wet because, on the way to the bathroom,  he turned into Spiderman and his spidey-sense led him to another room where he had to hurry and defeat some bad guys before he turned into a transformer and had to save the world from a tyrannosaurus rex and OH, LOOK..shiny object!!!

My Sugar Boog’s anxiety is a bit more troubling. It is awful for her and, pretty much, for the rest of us, too. Even if it didn’t feel like a knife through my heart every time I had to watch her shake, scream, and cry in fear, it would still be difficult. If I don’t put her in the cart when we are shopping, she holds onto my jacket or pants so tight that it’s hard to move. If I do put her in the cart, she has a meltdown anytime my hands are not on the cart..even if I am staring at her. Do you know how hard it is to shop without being able to remove your hands from the cart? It is Pretty. Damned. Hard. She constantly reminds me that I “have 2 little children and you might lose them if you don’t hold onto the buggy!” Thank you, Sugar. I almost forgot that I spent months in agonizing pain before delivering each of you. She can’t help it, though. She says she knows I would never lose her, but she can’t make her brain stop thinking that I will. Oddly, while that really doesn’t make sense, I know exactly what she means. So, yeah, right now, her main fear is–getting lost. Her other fears: being locked in the car or other small areas (like bathroom stalls), being left at home by herself, and lastly–she is terrified that one of her parents will be put in jail. Reading that, you are probably wondering what the hell kind of parents we are to cause her to worry about those things. Really, it’s nothing we have done. She has never been lost (she has thought she was, when we were actually standing no more than a foot behind her), I have never locked her in the car or left her there alone, I have never left her home alone, and I’ve never even gotten a speeding or other traffic violation citation before! I’ve never even been pulled over for a busted tail light or anything. While I’m not 100% sure where her other fears originated, I DO actually know where her fear of police putting her parents in jail comes from. She told me. It came from “that baby show you were watching where those parents went to jail” (DON’T JUDGE ME!). F#CKING JENELLE AND KIEFFER!! It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been watching my guilty-pleasure show in front of the kids. I tried to turn it off, but Sugar wanted to look at the babies. I didn’t know this would be the outcome. /facepalm

Sugar hasn’t had any major episodes like this is a long time. It has probably been at least 4-6 months.This one is by far the most crippling. She just doesn’t want to leave the house, nor does she want anyone else to leave the house. She tells me bye, that she loves me, and reminds me to pick her up 538 times before she will walk into the school each morning and her teachers say she recently started having meltdowns there. Tuesday, she had 4-5 inconsolable meltdowns while there. Makes me really want to pull her out of school. It’s just pre-k anyway, right? Anyway, right now, she is at my mom’s. They had their Christmas get together with my grandmother yesterday and I didn’t want them to have to miss it just because I did. I was terribly worried about how she would do, but she is doing surprisingly well. My mom says the only meltdowns she has are when they are in the car. She doesn’t want my mom to get out until Sugar is unbuckled–so she can ensure that she will not be left in the car.

We have an appointment with a psychiatrist at the end of January. I made sure to be put on the call list in case of any spots opening sooner due to cancellations. Until then, I am instructed to pretty much do what I can, within reason, to appease her. If she doesn’t want to leave to have a playdate at her friend’s house, she doesn’t have to. If she doesn’t want to accompany me to the grocery store and another option is available (staying with her father), we will go with the other option. We’ll do this until we are told otherwise (IF they tell us otherwise) at her psychiatrist appointment. It might be a long road, but we are going to do everything we can before resorting to medications. In the end, though, if medication is needed to make my sweet girl feel safe and not constantly terrified, medication it is. I just want her to feel safe and secure again!

Alright, enough rambling, too little cleaning. My house is a disaster and I’m about to go all Cracked-Out 50’s Housewife Who Also Suffers From OCD on this bitch. It needs it. Bad.

P.S.
I just realized that I thanked people a lot in this post. Ha! Guess I was feeling thankful. I’m so nice.

Toddlers aren’t really "my thing"..

I have decided that I’m not a huge fan of toddlers. Many of them don’t talk, they hit, they cannot wipe their own asses, they have no understanding of the word “no”, they are messy eaters, they are just messy in general, they hate nap time more than any other age group.. oh, and, they bite. Don’t get me wrong, I love toddlers. I just do not always like them. I used to. I used to see a kid aged 4 or under, and immediately wish I could pick it up…without seeming creepy, of course. Now, I keep toddlers in my house everyday. Now, they scare me.

The Hitter: Well.. she hits. All. Day. Long. My other kids are terrified of her. She cannot walk into the room without every kid in there bursting into tears, anticipating getting hit in the face with a car or other hard toy. I have tried redirecting, firmly saying no, time outs…she still hits. She can’t talk and some think that she hits because she doesnt know how else to communicate. Well, yeah, she is communicating loud and clear by hitting. She is saying, “I’m a tiny asshole!”


The Pooper: How many times can one kid shit in a day? Well, this kid goes at least 4 times in the short amount of time I have him. I’m not exaggerating. Everything goes STRAIGHT through him. I have a break from keeping him for a while since custody is split between his parents..and thank God. If I had to hear “I’m DONNNNEEEEE!!!” come out of his mouth one more time, I was going to lose it.

The Creeper: This kid creeps me out. He gives me evil glares and is never just.. nice. I try my damnedest to sweetly talk to him and play with him and I just get a cold, mean stare back and a, “NO.” He will also kung fu your ass in the face if you even attempt to get him to take a nap. He is completely relentless..he will cry until you finally say, “fuck it” and let him up. On top of everything else, his poop is rancid. I only keep him part-time, but I swear he saves up his shit for me. I can’t even double bag the diapers to keep the stench out. I keep a garbage can near me just in case I lose it and puke. RANCID.

The Manipulator: She is such a sweet child. She, however, has some serious, constant demands and follows them up with big puppy dog eyes and a “Pweeeze.” Nap time is a bitch with this one. She puckers up and pulls out all the stops. Makes you feel like shit for even considering making her nap. When you deny her requests, she drops to the floor and squalls.

The Baby: I have nothing negative to say. Best baby ever.

In conclusion, I’m an awful person.

Ewww, FREAK!

I haven’t posted much lately because I have been working on a few things.
Number 1: In-home Daycare. It deserves its own post, so I’ll get to that next.
Number 2: Adult Day Care

When my neighbor suggested opening an Adult Day Care, I still had THIS STORY  burnt into my brain and thought, “Ewww, FREAK!”

…And before I move on, let me just say–the person in that story with the REAL mental disability is the one taking care of the weirdo.
Anyway, she was actually talking about a place where the elderly go for care and socialization during the days when family members are working or just aren’t available to care for them. Whew!
After a lot of talking and researching, we decided to do it together. I never knew how much work goes into things like business plans. Holy shiz! When I’m not watching children and even during nap time, this is what I’m working on..phone calls, research, business plan, research, emails, and more research. I really hope my neighbor is better about staying on track with her ideas than I am. If its left to me, there will be a half written business plan or a half built building..I’ll half ass SOMETHING major.
Anyway, after a few weeks of all this, I’m not sure where it is going or if it is even going anywhere. Being a housewife just started sounding better and better. Still, that is one major thing that has been going on with me. It isn’t nearly as interesting as the adult baby story, so I’m going to touch on that with this picture that says EXACTLY how I feel about the freak. (F being PC, you know you are thinking the same damn thing.. F-R-E-A-K!)

Did I already say that I think he is a huge FREAK? Yeah, total f’ing freak.

Now, off to write my second post about how much I dislike children who didn’t come out of my vajizzle.. or, in my son’s case, out of a custom created hole in the area just below my belly button.

.

What was I thinking?

Beware: This is incredibly boring. I started writing it about 2 weeks ago, so I dated it for when I wrote it. Yeah, that’s how much time I get to actually write.

The lady who has a hard enough time wiping asses, cleaning up after children (and husband), and just maintaining a household in general..has decided to start watching kids in her home. I’m the lady. Today, I’m the lady with 7 kids all by myself. Those of you that choose to birth this many..baffle me. I wake up at 5 am, I take my medicines and go back to sleep for 15 minutes, I then get up and shower. At about 5:45, I get dressed and start straightening the house back up plus sweep..I do this the night before, but it’s always necessary again in the mornings. At 6:05ish, I make my kids and the early birds breakfast. The samurai is usually up by now and destroying my hard work. At 6:25 am, I take a deep breath, say a prayer to ask God to help me keep my sanity throughout the day, and then…I open the door. Shortly, lots of little feet are clonking around my den. Sugar gets up, I get her ready for school, and then, my neighbor-whom watches the kids with me (but is in hospital sick this week)-shows up and one of us runs my kids and hers to school.

We do breakfast, ass wiping, story time, outside play, snack, sneak into the liquor cabinet, activity time, quiet time, lunch, wipe an ass, nap, pull my hair out, more outside time, wipe ass, free play, and clean-up. Seriously, the amount of times I hear, “I’m through!!” from the bathroom..from ONE CHILD in particular…is ridic. As much as he shits, you’d think he could wipe himself by now. Another child is only here for 7hrs a week (2 days, 3.5ish hours each day), but I swear, it’s the only time he poops. It’s the “bring a trash can to the changing area because you might puke” type. Shoot me. He’s just not a nice..or cute.. kid either, so I think it makes it worse. Kids are like any other person: attractiveness can totally depend on personality. A not so cute kids can be adorable with the right attitude. Let’s face it, not all kids are cute. They just aren’t. I keep one (or two) of those kids.

By 6pm, most kids are gone and it’s time to really cleanup. I have to do the dishes, cook dinner, sweep, mop, vacuum, clean up the table, do the dinner dishes, and sanitize. Before I know it, it is 8:30. Kids go to bed, I get Gracey’s stuff ready for school, wash some clothes for the next day, cry, then pass out. Wake up at 5 am and start all over.

I don’t usually have 7 kids. In fact, after this week is over, I’ll only have 3 full time kids and one part time. Right now, school is out for Fall Break and I have a little boy who has only needed care for the last month. I kept him until 7:30 in the evening. Whew. Wears me out just thinking about doing it. That little boy is WILD and I hate to say it, but I won’t cry when he leaves. I can’t handle this many on a daily basis. I don’t know how long this lack of sleep can last, but it’s wearing on me. I promise to blog more, but it’s sleep or blog during nap time and sleep is usually the winner. Now, I must go. A kid needs wiping. Awesome!

I’m 0 weeks and craving a more effective way to raise breast cancer awareness.

This was my status message last night. It had 21 “likes” by morning…way more than I could have expected.

Everyone seems to be playing this game:

Hey!! This is what its about…Ok pretty ladies, it’s that time of year again, in support of breast cancer awareness!! So we all remember last years game of writing your bra color as your status?…..or the way we like to have our handbag handy? Remember last year so many people took part that it made national news and, the constant updating of status reminded everyone why we’re doing this and helped raise awareness!! Do NOT tell any males what the status’ mean, keep them guessing!! And please copy and paste (in a message )this to all your female friends to see if we can make a bigger fuss this year than last year!!! I did my part… now YOUR turn ! Go on ladies…and let’s have all the males guessing! .. It’s time to confuse the men again (not that its really that hard to do :)) Everyone knows it makes their brains work wonders on what we’re talking about!! The idea is to choose the month you were born and the day you were born. Pass this on to the girls only and lets see how far it reaches around. The last one about the bra went round all over the world. So you’ll write… I’m (your birth month) weeks and I’m craving (your birth date)!!! as your status. Example: Feb 14th= I’m 2 weeks and craving Chocolate mints!!January-1week Febuary-2weeks March-3weeks April-4weeks May-6weeks June-8weeks July-10weeks August-12weeks September-13weeks October-14weeks November-16weeks December-18weeks Days of the month: 1-Skittles 2-Starburst 3-Kit-Kat 4-M&M’s 5-Galaxy 6-Crunchie 7-Dairy Milk 8-Lollipop 9-Peanut Butter Cups 10-Meat Balls 11-Twizzlers 12-Bubble Gum 13-Hershey’s Kisses 14-Chocolate Mints 15-Twix 16-Resse’s Fastbreak 17-Fudge 18-Cherry Jello 19-Milkyway 20-Creme Eggs 21-Pickles 22-Skittles 23-Gummy Bears 24-Gummy Worms 25-Strawberry Pop Tarts 26-Starburst 27-Mini Eggs 28-Kit-Kat Chunkie 29-Double Chocolate Chip Crunchy Cookies 30-Smarties 31-Chocolate Cake

That’s fine, whatever.. their facebooks, their lives. I’m not personally hurt or offended by the silliness, but I am lucky not to have lost anyone to breast cancer or suffer from infertility. So, yeah, I won’t be playing. At least, no more than I did–with a sarcastic version. I just don’t get it. If you are like me and many others, you saw all of your friends announcing pregnancies, knowing they weren’t pregnant, and scratched your head. Later, I got the email and was all, “Ohhhh, okay.. wait.. what? What does that have to do with breast cancer? How does tricking people into thinking I’m pregnant raise awareness? I’m not even ‘allowed’ to tell anyone what it’s about, so how am I making anyone aware of breast cancer?” It’s strange.

Have you seen this blog post? It’s a good read. http://cgwardphotography.blogspot.com/2011/08/regarding-facebook-breast-cancer.html?spref=fb

Here are my own, personal reasons:

• If my family thought I was pregnant again, they’d probably all be devastated. Not because they do not want more babies in the family, but because another pregnancy could very well end up killing me and, even more likely, kill any babies I became pregnant with. I wouldn’t do that to them.

• When I was in high school, I was best friends with “M”. Her mother had colon cancer and was always in and out of hospitals for a while. Eventually, she was just cared for at home. I watched this sweet woman, rapidly it seems, lose her battle to cancer. When I would go over to M’s on good days, she would call me back to say hello… on bad days, I would hear her moaning in pain from the living room. There was nothing fun or funny about it.

• I have 2 friends, “J” and “L”, who are both suffering from infertility. Each badly wants a baby and, after several, several months of J trying for a second child and several years of L trying for her first, neither has had a successful pregnancy. I can’t imagine how they feel seeing all the “Gotcha!” pregnancy posts. J not only suffers from infertility, but also lost her mother to breast cancer. I hate to speak for others, but I’m fairly certain that she doesn’t find the games beneficial at all, and instead–finds them rather hurtful. I do know for sure that she doesn’t like them. The fact that the game has to do with faking a pregnancy just adds insult to injury. Here is another (similar) great post on why this game sucks for the infertile: http://infertility.about.com/b/2011/09/03/im-pregnant-just-kidding-new-facebook-meme-for-breast-cancer-awareness.htm

One of the comments on that article implies that the article is suggesting that you shouldn’t even talk about your dinner because someone may be hungry and offended. The f^#k? How does someone get that from the article? I think what it’s saying is more along the lines of: If you knowingly have some starving, homeless people on your Facebook (which would be odd, but go with it), it would be flat out evil to be all, “Guess what? I just had an awesome steak dinner in my warm, comfy home!” as a joke.

When you add all of that to the awkward feeling one must get after genuinely congratulating a person they think just announced a pregnancy, only to find that it’s a game..well, the game doesn’t seem very fun or funny anymore.

I apologize for the fact that this post isn’t funny or entertaining..but, you know, neither is cancer. Let’s spread some real awareness. Post some links with some real information on breast cancer. Here is one link the has multiple links conveniently pasted on the same page:

http://www.nbcam.org/patient_free_information.cfm

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