I canceled the appointment with the gyn.
It just seemed too final! Ending my cycle, fixing my bladder (although that would be nice.) I just can't do it!
I know most women consider their periods a curse, and I'm no exception, I just can't do it. I have always felt like God gave me a second chance at my fertility after I had the ablation, by having a full recovery (per my gynecologist.)
Whether Mr. R has the reversal or not, I don't want to mess with my body. The Lord created it, and He knew what He was doing, and I'm not going to mess with it any further.
Except for this last wisdom tooth coming in. Owwwww!!! What is up with that?!?! I am 34 years old! Enough with the teething already!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
I Couldn't Make This Up If I Tried...
On Friday, Mr. R came home around 7pm. It was the EXACT time I was supposed to show up at a "party" at Missy's friends' house. I didn't want to go to this party. I've known these people for four years and never once had a conversation with them other than, "Can you pick up the girls?" or "She's not home. Call later." Not exactly the warmest people. I was surprised to find I had been invited to a party at their home. Of course, I was given one day's notice, which made me assume I was a last minute addition. Not my favorite, but whatever.
I decided I was going to be fashionably late. After all, I had been given a last minute invitation, and most parties don't start on demand at 7pm, so I figured I'd be there by 8pm. Still plenty of time to mingle, say hello, and all that.
At 7:30, I got an anxious call from my daughter's friend wanting to know why I wasn't there yet.
How odd. Why does it matter that I'm 30 minutes late? I told the girl I wouldn't be on time. My suspicions were up, but I wasn't quite sure what to think of the situation.
I finally got to this girl's house by 8pm. Their driveway was PACKED. As in, I had to park in someone else's lawn, which always makes me feel bad. I walk up, only to find out, this isn't exactly a party. It's a sales party. Like Tupperware, or Pampered Chef. Only I discovered, in horror, that this was much worse.
It was a porn party.
Peeps, I walked into a living room where lingerie was hanging everywhere, special lotions that "warm and tingle" were being sampled, and large...uh...members were being passed around. *cough cough*
I stood there with my mouth open, which in retrospect was probably not a wise choice. The father of my daughter's friend beamed when he saw me. "Sarah!!! Take a seat!" and like a moron, I did so. I sat through one demonstration on how to properly use the tingly lotion (not with your tongue, or it will go numb) before I stood up, and walked out without saying a word to anyone.
I'm not a prude by any means. After all, I did have three kids by the time I was 23. I know people who found it amusing that I had the chutzpah to wear a white dress for my wedding, and I am not against "marital aids" if that's what you want to call them. What I'm against is being told I'm going to a housewarming party, and then find out its only sales that you're after. And seriously, considering that this is such a hot button issue, wouldn't it be something you'd mention, in case she has a moral issue with toys? And frankly, if and when I do buy something like that, it's going to be with my husband, and not in front of people who I see on a regular weekly basis! That's just not something I need for them to know about me!
Sigh...
I decided I was going to be fashionably late. After all, I had been given a last minute invitation, and most parties don't start on demand at 7pm, so I figured I'd be there by 8pm. Still plenty of time to mingle, say hello, and all that.
At 7:30, I got an anxious call from my daughter's friend wanting to know why I wasn't there yet.
How odd. Why does it matter that I'm 30 minutes late? I told the girl I wouldn't be on time. My suspicions were up, but I wasn't quite sure what to think of the situation.
I finally got to this girl's house by 8pm. Their driveway was PACKED. As in, I had to park in someone else's lawn, which always makes me feel bad. I walk up, only to find out, this isn't exactly a party. It's a sales party. Like Tupperware, or Pampered Chef. Only I discovered, in horror, that this was much worse.
It was a porn party.
Peeps, I walked into a living room where lingerie was hanging everywhere, special lotions that "warm and tingle" were being sampled, and large...uh...members were being passed around. *cough cough*
I stood there with my mouth open, which in retrospect was probably not a wise choice. The father of my daughter's friend beamed when he saw me. "Sarah!!! Take a seat!" and like a moron, I did so. I sat through one demonstration on how to properly use the tingly lotion (not with your tongue, or it will go numb) before I stood up, and walked out without saying a word to anyone.
I'm not a prude by any means. After all, I did have three kids by the time I was 23. I know people who found it amusing that I had the chutzpah to wear a white dress for my wedding, and I am not against "marital aids" if that's what you want to call them. What I'm against is being told I'm going to a housewarming party, and then find out its only sales that you're after. And seriously, considering that this is such a hot button issue, wouldn't it be something you'd mention, in case she has a moral issue with toys? And frankly, if and when I do buy something like that, it's going to be with my husband, and not in front of people who I see on a regular weekly basis! That's just not something I need for them to know about me!
Sigh...
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Thanks, Pixar! (www.gnn.com)
Dying Girl Granted Wish to See 'Up'
HUNTINGTON BEACH, Calif. (June 19) -- Colby Curtin got her final wish.
The 10-year-old girl desperately wanted to see the new Disney-Pixar movie, "Up." But the cancer-stricken girl was too sick to go to a theater.
Thanks to a family friend who got in touch with the movie studio Pixar, an employee of the Emeryville-based company arrived at Colby's home with a DVD copy of the movie, The Orange County Register reported Friday. The girl died later that night.
Colby's mother, Lisa, said she had asked her daughter if she could hang on until the movie arrived.
"I'm ready (to die), but I'm going to wait for the movie," she said her daughter replied.
"Up" is the animated tale of a grumpy old man who, after his wife's death, tries to fulfill their joint dream of visiting South America by tying thousands of balloons to his house and floating away.
"When I watched it, I had really no idea about the content of the theme of the movie," Colby's mother told the Register. "I just know that word 'Up' and all of the balloons and I swear to you, for me it meant that (Colby) was going to go up. Up to heaven."
Colby, who was diagnosed with vascular cancer in 2005, saw previews for the film in April.
"It was from then on, she said, 'I have to see that movie. It is so cool,'" family friend Carole Lynch said.
But the girl's health began to deteriorate. On June 4, Curtin asked a hospice company to bring a wheelchair so that her daughter could go to a movie theater but the chair was not delivered over the weekend, Curtin said.
By June 9, Colby was too sick to go anywhere.
Another family friend, Terrell Orum, called both Pixar and Disney, which owns the animation studio. The message was received by Pixar officials, who agreed to send someone to Colby's house the next day with a copy of "Up" for a private screening, Orum said.
The employee arrived with the DVD, stuffed animals of characters and other movie memorabilia.
Colby was unable to open her eyes to see the movie so her mother described the scenes. When her mother asked if she enjoyed it, the girl nodded, Curtin said.
The Pixar employee left after the movie, taking the DVD, which has not been released. Lynch, who was with the family during the screening, said the employee's "eyes were just welled up."
A call to Pixar seeking comment was not immediately returned Friday.
Colby, with her parents nearby, died later that night.
Her mother said one of the memorabilia left by the Pixar employee was an "adventure book" based on a scrapbook that, in the movie, is kept by the wife of the main character.
"I'll have to fill those adventures in for her," Lisa Curtin said of her daughter.
What is a Friend?
I've made no bones about the fact that I lead a fairly solitary, yet still busy life.
When my Bucket was diagnosed with autism, I retreated. I lost lots of friends, either through my own grief, or people not understanding what I was going through.
I was always the girl surrounded by parties, laughter, games, drinks, fun.
Lately, I feel utterly alone.
Alone is not always bad. It can be reflective, quiet, and soothing. Most of the time, that is what it is for me. If I'm out for too long with other people, I will start to get anxious and need some time to myself.
So I guess in that way, I'm not a great friend. I used to think I was, but maybe I wasn't.
The person who "defriended" me last week on FB, is back. With one of the worst apologies ever. I forgive her (not lying, I really have) but I'm not sure I want to be friends with her anymore. One thing I don't like, is tippy-toeing around people hoping not to offend them. And considering her friend request has made me think: "What is a Friend?"
I think it's been so long since I've had a true friend, that I'm not sure.
I consider my readers friends. But I never see any of you.
I consider my husband a friend, but I'm not talking about him.
My mom is my friend, but there is always that element of judgment from her.
My sister is my friend, but she lives over an hour away, and we don't really have much in common.
I have some work friends, but we never get together outside of work functions.
I have some church friends, but we are only on a "Hello, how are you, how are the kids" type of relationship. Acquaintances, I guess. Did I spell that right?
What do I want from a friend?
- Honesty without ripping me apart
- Acceptance of my limits
- Someone who can go out without getting drunk all the time. I don't mind a few drinks, but I'm tired of holding people's hair back while they puke. It's not cute.
- Someone who thinks a trip to the bookstore and getting a cup of coffee is the BEST DAY EVER.
- Someone who can talk for hours about nothing at all.
- Someone who wears a size 9W shoe so I can share her shoes. (ok, that's not required.)
- Someone who will walk in my door, see that I've had a crappy day, and start the dishwasher for me.
- Someone I can go out and exercise with, and then go get an ice cream cone!
- A person who will accept that I believe in Jesus Christ as my Savior, and not try to change my mind about it. It will not happen.
- A person who will not rag on me because of my husband. You'd be surprised how many people are not friendly toward Mr. R because they consider him an absent husband.
- I'll babysit your kids for you, but don't take advantage of me because I work from home. I'm not a daycare.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Decision Time
This was a hard choice to make, but I set the ball rolling.
Ever since Mr. R decided he didn't want to have the reversal surgery, I've been sad, but not surprised. I'm already so grateful that the Lord has blessed with me three awesome children. It has been a hoot watching them grow up. They've made me cry, made me laugh, made me proud, made me want to kill them. Gosh, I love em so. I've done tons of stupid crap in my life, but one day when I meet my Lord, I'll be able to point to them and say, "Look, I did something right!" That's my plan, anyway.
Anyway, a bit of medical history for those who love a bit of TMI. In 2002, I had a surgery called endometrial ablation. This is when the uterus is basically burned with scalding hot water in order to stop a heavy menstrual flow. (see, told you it was TMI!) I've suffered for years with horrific cramps, heavy bleeding, anemia, and a general feeling of wishing I was dead for two weeks every month. Yes, I said two weeks. Half of every month was dedicated to me wearing a diaper and crying in pain. The surgery is considered fertility ending. However, there is a 15% chance of failure, especially in women my age back then. (I was 27 when I had the procedure.) I went six glorious months without a period, and then it came back. Slowly at first, and within two years of the procedure, I was back to 10 day periods again. So, I am considered to be in that 15% failure rate. My body basically healed itself from the ablation, which by the way, was so painful that I couldn't stand up straight for three days.
At the age of 32, my new ob/gyn told me that the ablation is only considered fertility ending for the first five years. I was shocked. No one ever told me that before. And of course, I was five years out from the surgery. So now it occurred to me...maybe I can have another baby? Too bad Mr. R already had his vasectomy back in 1998.
So I got baby fever. Bad, as anyone who reads my blog could tell. And we were supposed to have the surgery to reverse Mr. R's vasectomy this summer, but he decided he didn't want to do it. Which leaves me suffering from women problems, for absolutely no reason at all. Why go through all this pain every month for the next 15 years if there is no chance we're going to have another child?
So I called my ob/gyn. Left her a message telling her that not only was I interested in having another ablation to end my periods, but that I want to have bladder reconstruction surgery. After 3 8-lb children, my bladder is gone. I'm sick of wetting my pants every time I sneeze, cough or laugh. Calling for this actually made me cry a bit. It was me admitting that there will be no more babies in our home, unless we adopt or see grandchildren some day. But I guess there is a time to move on, a time to watch your children to grow into adults, and a time to give your body relief.
Ever since Mr. R decided he didn't want to have the reversal surgery, I've been sad, but not surprised. I'm already so grateful that the Lord has blessed with me three awesome children. It has been a hoot watching them grow up. They've made me cry, made me laugh, made me proud, made me want to kill them. Gosh, I love em so. I've done tons of stupid crap in my life, but one day when I meet my Lord, I'll be able to point to them and say, "Look, I did something right!" That's my plan, anyway.
Anyway, a bit of medical history for those who love a bit of TMI. In 2002, I had a surgery called endometrial ablation. This is when the uterus is basically burned with scalding hot water in order to stop a heavy menstrual flow. (see, told you it was TMI!) I've suffered for years with horrific cramps, heavy bleeding, anemia, and a general feeling of wishing I was dead for two weeks every month. Yes, I said two weeks. Half of every month was dedicated to me wearing a diaper and crying in pain. The surgery is considered fertility ending. However, there is a 15% chance of failure, especially in women my age back then. (I was 27 when I had the procedure.) I went six glorious months without a period, and then it came back. Slowly at first, and within two years of the procedure, I was back to 10 day periods again. So, I am considered to be in that 15% failure rate. My body basically healed itself from the ablation, which by the way, was so painful that I couldn't stand up straight for three days.
At the age of 32, my new ob/gyn told me that the ablation is only considered fertility ending for the first five years. I was shocked. No one ever told me that before. And of course, I was five years out from the surgery. So now it occurred to me...maybe I can have another baby? Too bad Mr. R already had his vasectomy back in 1998.
So I got baby fever. Bad, as anyone who reads my blog could tell. And we were supposed to have the surgery to reverse Mr. R's vasectomy this summer, but he decided he didn't want to do it. Which leaves me suffering from women problems, for absolutely no reason at all. Why go through all this pain every month for the next 15 years if there is no chance we're going to have another child?
So I called my ob/gyn. Left her a message telling her that not only was I interested in having another ablation to end my periods, but that I want to have bladder reconstruction surgery. After 3 8-lb children, my bladder is gone. I'm sick of wetting my pants every time I sneeze, cough or laugh. Calling for this actually made me cry a bit. It was me admitting that there will be no more babies in our home, unless we adopt or see grandchildren some day. But I guess there is a time to move on, a time to watch your children to grow into adults, and a time to give your body relief.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
What Do You Dream About?
One of the many awesome things about my husband is that he is a communicator. I rarely think, "Hmmm, I wonder how HE feels about xyz," because I likely have heard a 30 minute conversation on the pros, cons, and spiritual side of everything. As a truck driver, sometimes all we have is the phone, and boy do we use it. Sprint PCS is losing money on us, hahaha.
So imagine my surprise when Mr. R sprung a new one on me over the weekend. We were driving to go grocery shopping. It's almost like a date now, because the kids are old enough to stay home while we shop. Sometimes we'll get lunch before we go, but not always. Being the parents of teenagers is interesting in a way that I didn't expect, but I'm rolling with it.
Anyway, he asked me when I was ready to go back to school. (For those of you who don't know, I took a breather from Herzing U for the summer. Awesome school, nothing is wrong with them, I just felt like I was falling apart.) Surprisingly, I miss school. I've always been a bit nerdy and really love learning new things. I could totally see myself as a professional student, always taking a class of some sort in order to broaden my horizons, even into my older years. So I told Mr. R, "I'll be ready by autumn, September/October-ish." He nodded and said, "I am so over truck driving." Ummm, yes, the entire family is over the truck driving. We miss him tremendously. He asked me when I set to graduate. It *was* April 2011, but now that I've taken a few months off, I'm assuming it will be December 2011. I am only taking one class at a time, since I do work full time and have children to care for. Then he said something sort of strange. "How much money will you make once you're working in that field?" Well, gosh, I don't really know. I'm already in my field, and I make (hush hush) about $30,000 per year. Not great, but not awful, especially for Central Florida. Of course, with a degree, I could move into a more profitable area of the hospital, and possibly make more, but that is hard to say.
Then he dropped the bomb. "When you get a new job, I'm probably going to quit truck driving and stay home."
WHAT?!?!?!
Once I changed my drawers, we talked a bit more. He really misses me, misses the kids. Misses going to church and making plans with his friends. I definitely get that. But one salary in Central Florida is really not going to cut it. I know people who do it, and I know it can be done, but if you have one mishap, you're sunk. We've been there before, which is why I had to declare bankruptcy after my car accident in 2002. We were living paycheck to paycheck, and even with health insurance, the medical bills from my minor accident sunk us. I don't like living that way. I've been poverty-poor my entire childhood, and it's not a fun way to live. I don't ever expect to get rich, but poverty blows. I'm not interested. Mr. R grew up the same way I did, so we both have that background of devastating poverty.
Our plan, at this point, is in the next two and a half years, to get completely out of debt except for my student loans and the house. To get whatever work done on the house as possible (I have a list of 26 more things I want. Not all of them are major, but they all take money.) Then, I will find something better at the hospital, and he can take a part time driving job or something else to make up the difference.
With him being home, he can really concentrate on rocking our garden to the limit, and that will also make up for lack of cash.
Maybe we can finally be a full time family.
So imagine my surprise when Mr. R sprung a new one on me over the weekend. We were driving to go grocery shopping. It's almost like a date now, because the kids are old enough to stay home while we shop. Sometimes we'll get lunch before we go, but not always. Being the parents of teenagers is interesting in a way that I didn't expect, but I'm rolling with it.
Anyway, he asked me when I was ready to go back to school. (For those of you who don't know, I took a breather from Herzing U for the summer. Awesome school, nothing is wrong with them, I just felt like I was falling apart.) Surprisingly, I miss school. I've always been a bit nerdy and really love learning new things. I could totally see myself as a professional student, always taking a class of some sort in order to broaden my horizons, even into my older years. So I told Mr. R, "I'll be ready by autumn, September/October-ish." He nodded and said, "I am so over truck driving." Ummm, yes, the entire family is over the truck driving. We miss him tremendously. He asked me when I set to graduate. It *was* April 2011, but now that I've taken a few months off, I'm assuming it will be December 2011. I am only taking one class at a time, since I do work full time and have children to care for. Then he said something sort of strange. "How much money will you make once you're working in that field?" Well, gosh, I don't really know. I'm already in my field, and I make (hush hush) about $30,000 per year. Not great, but not awful, especially for Central Florida. Of course, with a degree, I could move into a more profitable area of the hospital, and possibly make more, but that is hard to say.
Then he dropped the bomb. "When you get a new job, I'm probably going to quit truck driving and stay home."
WHAT?!?!?!
Once I changed my drawers, we talked a bit more. He really misses me, misses the kids. Misses going to church and making plans with his friends. I definitely get that. But one salary in Central Florida is really not going to cut it. I know people who do it, and I know it can be done, but if you have one mishap, you're sunk. We've been there before, which is why I had to declare bankruptcy after my car accident in 2002. We were living paycheck to paycheck, and even with health insurance, the medical bills from my minor accident sunk us. I don't like living that way. I've been poverty-poor my entire childhood, and it's not a fun way to live. I don't ever expect to get rich, but poverty blows. I'm not interested. Mr. R grew up the same way I did, so we both have that background of devastating poverty.
Our plan, at this point, is in the next two and a half years, to get completely out of debt except for my student loans and the house. To get whatever work done on the house as possible (I have a list of 26 more things I want. Not all of them are major, but they all take money.) Then, I will find something better at the hospital, and he can take a part time driving job or something else to make up the difference.
With him being home, he can really concentrate on rocking our garden to the limit, and that will also make up for lack of cash.
Maybe we can finally be a full time family.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sarah and Very, Very Bad Week
Ugh. Last week sucked. I don't have any pictures because who wants to see a picture of me crying on my blog? I think the only reason I lost another pound is because of tear loss. Seriously. I didn't exercise once.
So, what happened?
What did YOU do this past weekend? Make me smile!!!
So, what happened?
- work just blew
- one of my oldest friends defriended me off facebook due to a stupid misunderstanding
- my pcp decided not to treat me anymore, with no explanation
- my period lasted TEN DAYS
- Mr. R's mom decided to enter Hotel R again (ummm, that's us. Just FYI)
- One of Mr. R's friends called me on Saturday morning at 7 AM to ask for money! My one and only day to sleep in!
What did YOU do this past weekend? Make me smile!!!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Living Arrangements
I realize most of my readers (all?) have never been to my house. I did take a few pictures, but those were the public parts of my house.
With Mr. R's mom getting ready to move in, some changes will have to be made.
Right now, my boys share a room which is about 11x11. Way too small for even them. It was cute when they were toddlers, not so much as pre-teens. Missy has an 11x11 room all to herself. Then Mr. R and I share the master bedroom, which is about 15x12. It does have a master bathroom attached to it, which is so small, that Mr. R and I can't stand in there at the same time. Yet it does the trick.
I just can't force Missy to share a room with her grandma. That will be the end of her having friends over, having sleepovers, and just having a private area, which is essential for teenage girls. I can't make all three kids share a room, as that is illegal in my state, plus the rooms are just too tiny.
I have pretty much figured out that I am going to move the boys into the master suite, have Mr. R's mom move into the boys' bedroom, and that Mr. R and I get to sleep and live in the living room. There is pretty much no other choice. Mr. R and the boys can share the master closet, and Missy and I can share a closet. Since we don't have a sofa bed, or even a sofa large enough for us to sit on anyway, I plan to go out sometime soon to purchase an inflatable bed. That way, we can still have the living room open for guests during the day, and it will be my bedroom at night.
A great solution? Not on your life. I think it sucks. But there is no where else to put anyone anymore. I'm out of room, I'm out of solutions, and I'm out of patience. I'm tired of my house being treated as a hotel by his family. And if I say one word about how unfair this is, all he tells me is "I can't let my mama be homeless." Who can argue against that? If I do, it's suddenly me being a you-know-what. There is no winning here. So I've lost my house and my privacy to her. So I'm sleeping in the living room. I pay almost $1500 a month for a house in which I don't even have a bedroom anymore. Fabulous.
With Mr. R's mom getting ready to move in, some changes will have to be made.
Right now, my boys share a room which is about 11x11. Way too small for even them. It was cute when they were toddlers, not so much as pre-teens. Missy has an 11x11 room all to herself. Then Mr. R and I share the master bedroom, which is about 15x12. It does have a master bathroom attached to it, which is so small, that Mr. R and I can't stand in there at the same time. Yet it does the trick.
I just can't force Missy to share a room with her grandma. That will be the end of her having friends over, having sleepovers, and just having a private area, which is essential for teenage girls. I can't make all three kids share a room, as that is illegal in my state, plus the rooms are just too tiny.
I have pretty much figured out that I am going to move the boys into the master suite, have Mr. R's mom move into the boys' bedroom, and that Mr. R and I get to sleep and live in the living room. There is pretty much no other choice. Mr. R and the boys can share the master closet, and Missy and I can share a closet. Since we don't have a sofa bed, or even a sofa large enough for us to sit on anyway, I plan to go out sometime soon to purchase an inflatable bed. That way, we can still have the living room open for guests during the day, and it will be my bedroom at night.
A great solution? Not on your life. I think it sucks. But there is no where else to put anyone anymore. I'm out of room, I'm out of solutions, and I'm out of patience. I'm tired of my house being treated as a hotel by his family. And if I say one word about how unfair this is, all he tells me is "I can't let my mama be homeless." Who can argue against that? If I do, it's suddenly me being a you-know-what. There is no winning here. So I've lost my house and my privacy to her. So I'm sleeping in the living room. I pay almost $1500 a month for a house in which I don't even have a bedroom anymore. Fabulous.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
I Can't Win These Days!
Now that Mr. R's sister has moved into her own place, I've been relaxing. It was nice having someone to talk to (a grown-up! oh my!) at lunch, but the stress of dealing with Jay was too much for me. So while I miss her company, I don't miss her drama.
So let's add new drama, shall we?
Mr. R's mom called at 8:30 this morning. Even for her, that is pretty early. Mr. R answered it, although I was already dreading what she had to say. This is a woman who thrives on drama, whereas I hide from it. 8:30 am phone calls are not to tell me about what she bought at the grocery store, you dig?
And I was right.
Her boyfriend was laid off from his job of 20 years, which I admit is a total bummer. He is going to file for employment, but if he doesn't get enough to pay the bills, he is just going to pack up and move to South Carolina into his parent's home until he can find a new job. Awesome plan for him. It just happens to leave Mr. R's mom out in the cold. You see, the boyfriend's parents can't stand Mr. R's mom. They have quite the volatile relationship and when they argue, they manage to drag everyone into it (see "drama love", above.) So if the boyfriend moves to SC, that leaves Granny homeless. And you know what that means, right?
"Guess what! I'm moving in with ya'll!"
Telling me this info before I even had my morning java didn't go over well. I do believe I said something about removing our front door and charging for admission. I believe I also mentioned that she was going to pay to have a fourth bedroom built onto our home so that my poor daughter didn't have to share a room with her incontinent nicotine addicted grandmother. Yeah, don't tell me bad crap before I have my coffee. Sheesh.
You people out in blogland all need to pray for my sanity, because I could surely use a cup of it around here.
Now, before you are all thinking I'm badmouthing my mother-in-law...well, I guess I sort of am. This lady comes with more baggage than your local airport. She has anxiety issues, incontinence issues, she refuses to smoke outside even though our Tiger has asthma issues, gives my work phone number to all of her friends and complains to people that I'm a slob. (I admit that I'm not the best housekeeper. Anyone else out there with three kids and a full time job that has a perfect house? I hear crickets...) However, she has lots of good points. She is an excellent gardener and our lawn and plants looked beautiful when she lived here before (about four years ago.) She makes the best meatloaf EVER. She babysat the kids so Mr. R and I could go out on dates together. She has a way with Bucket that makes me smile. She does dishes! So while I'm not thrilled about the idea of her coming back, I'm trying to think about the positive and not dwell on the bad.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Funny Silly Sarah
Don't you just want to chase this guy with a lighter and a stick of butter?
Mmmmm, seafood.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
A Week Went By?
Wow. Sorry guys. I've just been working, exercising, and agonizing over some of the worst menstrual cramps I've had in years. I threatened to rip my uterus out and set it on fire in the driveway if Mr. R didn't bring me some Advil. Dramatic, no? Too bad. It worked.
I did ok with my exercise until spicy burrito week welcomed itself into my life again. It's hard to pedal a bicycle when you wish your innards would fall out and combust. But that's okay, because I'll be back in a few days, good as new!
Work is crazy busy. Today I finally have a lull in my schedule. I have my coffee, my Advil, and my blood pressure meds. What could possibly go wrong?
In other uninteresting news, I finally threw away my beloved black cords. A final rip in the seam going down my thigh convinced me. The fabric was so frayed I couldn't fix it anyway. Besides my dress pants for work (the black Lane Bryants, the brown Lane Bryants, and the gray pin stripe Lane Bryants I scored at the Goodwill), my workout pants, and my one pair of jeans, I have NO PANTS. I'm not sure if I'm going to remedy the situation, or become a skirts/dresses kind of girl. I have to admit, here in the swamp, I'm getting to the point where I want to wear the skirts. It is SO HOT. Unfortunately, being a rather pale lady, with black hair, means I have to shave EVERY SINGLE DAY in order to pull this off. Mr. R will probably be grateful for it, but I find it a nuisance. Yet, which is worse, shaving or heatstroke?
Anyway, my Lane Bryant pants don't even fit that great. I've lost weight, which is awesome. But now they pucker in the crotch which is not a look I'm fond of. But I'm not small enough to go down a size, or else I create a lovely muffin top. So I'm guessing it's time for me to embrace my razor.
I did ok with my exercise until spicy burrito week welcomed itself into my life again. It's hard to pedal a bicycle when you wish your innards would fall out and combust. But that's okay, because I'll be back in a few days, good as new!
Work is crazy busy. Today I finally have a lull in my schedule. I have my coffee, my Advil, and my blood pressure meds. What could possibly go wrong?
In other uninteresting news, I finally threw away my beloved black cords. A final rip in the seam going down my thigh convinced me. The fabric was so frayed I couldn't fix it anyway. Besides my dress pants for work (the black Lane Bryants, the brown Lane Bryants, and the gray pin stripe Lane Bryants I scored at the Goodwill), my workout pants, and my one pair of jeans, I have NO PANTS. I'm not sure if I'm going to remedy the situation, or become a skirts/dresses kind of girl. I have to admit, here in the swamp, I'm getting to the point where I want to wear the skirts. It is SO HOT. Unfortunately, being a rather pale lady, with black hair, means I have to shave EVERY SINGLE DAY in order to pull this off. Mr. R will probably be grateful for it, but I find it a nuisance. Yet, which is worse, shaving or heatstroke?
Anyway, my Lane Bryant pants don't even fit that great. I've lost weight, which is awesome. But now they pucker in the crotch which is not a look I'm fond of. But I'm not small enough to go down a size, or else I create a lovely muffin top. So I'm guessing it's time for me to embrace my razor.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Blisters
No bike riding today. Can you believe I have blisters on my tukkus? That's right, the seat on my bike is so wrong, I have huge welts on that lovely little area where my bum meets my thigh. I can't even wear pants. I'm wearing a flowy skirt, and have two bandages tucked in my underwear (is this tmi?) to catch the fluid seeping from these enormous blisters. Today is going to be a slower day for me, as I recuperate from the special booty seat.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Me. A Camera. And the Bicycle.
This is what I look like before coffee.
What I'm wearing:
orange tank top, Target.
pink sports bra which said "D cup" but is clearly NOT because I have over-boob, side-boob, and under-boob issues, Hanes.
tattoo: fun weekend with Miriam!
black sweat pants with bleach stains: WalMart, and I bought them years ago because they have a pocket.
Booty: reason for the special booty seat
socks: Old Navy
shoes: New Balance 8 1/2 W.
Me: "What is wrong with me, that I am taking pictures of my self, wearing basically pjs, with a bike helmet on, no make-up, sans coffee, for my readers?" Sigh...
Monday, June 8, 2009
Just Because I Can, Yo
A recent pic of me, just this past Sunday. I'm at my main supervisor's surprise bridal shower. These are some of the amazing ladies I work with! (from left to right is me, Carmella, Nicola and Gloria. I've worked with all of them for eight years and I love them to pieces!)
What I'm Wearing:
Black lace tank top, Target.
Turquoise dress, WalMart.
Black cardigan, Kohl's.
White necklace, authentic pookah shells from Carmella. I gave up my annual Spring Break vacation two years ago so she could go to Hawaii with her grandchildren, and that's what she brought back for me. I love the necklace, but it pulls those little hairs out of the back of my neck every time. And I'm not shaving my neck. Heck to the no.
Earrings, Kohl's. I'm wearing a matching bracelet that you can't see either.
Makeup: Shade 200 MaryKay foundation which I bought from Nicola. Cover Girl blue eyeshadow that I dipped in water to make it like an eyeliner. Black mascara. No blush...look at the size of my cheeks. I don't need help. And melon lipgloss which is also MaryKay.
Hair: 93 degrees, 100% humidity. Screw it.
Ok, so red is my favorite color, but wow...I like the blue on me. I have blue eyes and the blue dress really makes my eyes seem even bluer. What do you guys think...more blue?
Back In My Saddle
Here I am, 7am Monday morning. I'm up, the coffee is brewing. Missy and Bucket are both sleeping, and Tiger is away with Mr. R in the truck. As of today, I don't have to clock in for another hour because I'm going to start bike riding Monday-Friday before it gets too hot. I just wanted to log in, say good morning, and post my weight. I hadn't done it in quite a few weeks because of all the drama around here. I'm happy to report that I didn't gain as much as I thought. I've lost it before, I can do it again!
Oh, and here is a picture of Bucket from his fifth grade graduation.
You know I cried.
Oh, and here is a picture of Bucket from his fifth grade graduation.
You know I cried.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Being Prepared
Well, Mr. R's sister moved out. Her new boyfriend is paying for her new apartment. (Yes, I know she's married. I won't get into it...but le sigh.)
Her estranged husband, Jay, since he can't find Sissy (we are hiding her for now, I'm sure you can imagine why) has apparently decided to make me his target. Sissy made the error of telling him that "when you were at their house, Sarah got up to load the gun." Great. Thanks. So he told Mr. R, "Next time I come up there, she better be prepared to shoot." And yes, I do take that as a threat, and yes, I am ready. I finally practiced opening the case, but the gun is loaded inside the case and is in an area where I can reach it. I am terrified, but I'm also VERY VERY ANGRY that this man (and seriously, that is using the term lightly, as a real man would not try to hurt a woman) would even consider taking his frustrations out on me. So if he comes by, I will call the police, but if I have to shoot him to protect me and the kids...so be it. It's all on him.
In other news, school is done for the summer. As of August, I will have two middle schoolers and a high schooler. Bucket starts sixth grade, and Missy starts ninth grade. You know I'll be crying when that day comes.
In the meantime, I'll be posting pictures of Bucket's graduation ceremony from fifth grade shortly. I cried so hard that I'm not in any of the pictures, because I looked like a snot sucking walrus. And that is putting it kindly.
Her estranged husband, Jay, since he can't find Sissy (we are hiding her for now, I'm sure you can imagine why) has apparently decided to make me his target. Sissy made the error of telling him that "when you were at their house, Sarah got up to load the gun." Great. Thanks. So he told Mr. R, "Next time I come up there, she better be prepared to shoot." And yes, I do take that as a threat, and yes, I am ready. I finally practiced opening the case, but the gun is loaded inside the case and is in an area where I can reach it. I am terrified, but I'm also VERY VERY ANGRY that this man (and seriously, that is using the term lightly, as a real man would not try to hurt a woman) would even consider taking his frustrations out on me. So if he comes by, I will call the police, but if I have to shoot him to protect me and the kids...so be it. It's all on him.
In other news, school is done for the summer. As of August, I will have two middle schoolers and a high schooler. Bucket starts sixth grade, and Missy starts ninth grade. You know I'll be crying when that day comes.
In the meantime, I'll be posting pictures of Bucket's graduation ceremony from fifth grade shortly. I cried so hard that I'm not in any of the pictures, because I looked like a snot sucking walrus. And that is putting it kindly.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Failed x2
Ok, ok, I admit it! I have not been on the bike since that one day I went with Mr. R a week or so ago.
Why? Well, as usual I am full of it. Excuses, that is. I've got a bunch. Been raining. Been busy at work. Been dealing with the drama of the sister-in-law. Busy, sure. But not busy concentrating on me, as usual.
So, in my usual brilliant fashion, it occurred to me that this Friday is the kids last day of school, therefore I don't have to get them up in the mornings anymore. Which gives ME time to work on myself.
So I emailed my main supervisor to ask her if it would be ok if I clocked in at 8am instead of 7am, in order to get in 30-45 minutes of exercise per day. She approved it. So now, I'll be setting my alarm for 6:30, and plan to be on the bicycle by 7am while my kiddies sleep sound in the beds, drunk on summer tv and video games.
I hope this is what I need to get my situation moving in a better way.
Why? Well, as usual I am full of it. Excuses, that is. I've got a bunch. Been raining. Been busy at work. Been dealing with the drama of the sister-in-law. Busy, sure. But not busy concentrating on me, as usual.
So, in my usual brilliant fashion, it occurred to me that this Friday is the kids last day of school, therefore I don't have to get them up in the mornings anymore. Which gives ME time to work on myself.
So I emailed my main supervisor to ask her if it would be ok if I clocked in at 8am instead of 7am, in order to get in 30-45 minutes of exercise per day. She approved it. So now, I'll be setting my alarm for 6:30, and plan to be on the bicycle by 7am while my kiddies sleep sound in the beds, drunk on summer tv and video games.
I hope this is what I need to get my situation moving in a better way.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Failed
If my kids were depending on me today to protect them, they would have died. End of story.
I blew it. Failed. I dropped the chalupa.
I was sitting at my computer, working away, when Missy came up behind me and said, "Mommy, there's a truck in the driveway." I looked up only to see my brother-in-law, my sister-in-law's estranged husband, storming up my walk. With their hound dog, Charlie. I hung up on my phone call, and ran to the door. It was unfortunately not locked. He opened it just as I got to the door. There was, obviously, no greeting. "Where the f&^% is she?!" he roared. I shut the door in his face, and said, "Sissy, he's here!" Her eyes immediately got huge. She ran to the door to appease him. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out who was where. Bucket was in his room playing. Tiger was at a friend's house. Missy was standing behind me, terrified of the look and the demeanor of her uncle. I grabbed my cell phone, texted Mr. R that "Jay" had shown up. Then I shoved Missy into my bathroom, and told her to lock the door. The entire time, I can hear Jay screaming at Sissy in our front yard. Nothing but cursing, screaming, and belittling.
I went into our closet. Jumped to get the gun. (Mr. R keeps it up high so the kids can't reach it, but they're all about my height, so that means I can't reach it either.) Dropped the case. Looked at my hands and realized my hands were shaking so bad that I couldn't even open the case. I finally opened it, grabbed the gun, but heard squealing tires. Jay was already gone. Time he was at our house: less than 5 minutes. And I never even got the gun loaded.
You know, I crack jokes about being from Queens all the time. I'm one tough cookie, blah blah blah. Yes, I can hold my own in a basic fight, I'm sure, but introduce weapons and I'm a goner. After Mr. R called me back to calm me down, it suddenly occurred to me that if that had been a regular intruder, like a home invasion, I'd be dead and so would two of the kids. I got scared and blew an opportunity to protect my children, my home, and my sister-in-law.
This is the one thing I was afraid of, when we allowed Sissy to move in with us. She is fine, although I can live without the cursing and watching Jerry Springer throughout the day. But I knew Jay was going to follow her. Jay promised Mr. R that he would "respect" us and our home and not come here. He also promised that he wouldn't call the house, and that he wouldn't bring any drama to our front door. Sissy has lived with us for less than 6 days, and every promise was already broken. Sounds like a winner, doesn't he. I can't imagine WHY anyone would want to leave such a charming gentleman!
I blew it. Failed. I dropped the chalupa.
I was sitting at my computer, working away, when Missy came up behind me and said, "Mommy, there's a truck in the driveway." I looked up only to see my brother-in-law, my sister-in-law's estranged husband, storming up my walk. With their hound dog, Charlie. I hung up on my phone call, and ran to the door. It was unfortunately not locked. He opened it just as I got to the door. There was, obviously, no greeting. "Where the f&^% is she?!" he roared. I shut the door in his face, and said, "Sissy, he's here!" Her eyes immediately got huge. She ran to the door to appease him. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out who was where. Bucket was in his room playing. Tiger was at a friend's house. Missy was standing behind me, terrified of the look and the demeanor of her uncle. I grabbed my cell phone, texted Mr. R that "Jay" had shown up. Then I shoved Missy into my bathroom, and told her to lock the door. The entire time, I can hear Jay screaming at Sissy in our front yard. Nothing but cursing, screaming, and belittling.
I went into our closet. Jumped to get the gun. (Mr. R keeps it up high so the kids can't reach it, but they're all about my height, so that means I can't reach it either.) Dropped the case. Looked at my hands and realized my hands were shaking so bad that I couldn't even open the case. I finally opened it, grabbed the gun, but heard squealing tires. Jay was already gone. Time he was at our house: less than 5 minutes. And I never even got the gun loaded.
You know, I crack jokes about being from Queens all the time. I'm one tough cookie, blah blah blah. Yes, I can hold my own in a basic fight, I'm sure, but introduce weapons and I'm a goner. After Mr. R called me back to calm me down, it suddenly occurred to me that if that had been a regular intruder, like a home invasion, I'd be dead and so would two of the kids. I got scared and blew an opportunity to protect my children, my home, and my sister-in-law.
This is the one thing I was afraid of, when we allowed Sissy to move in with us. She is fine, although I can live without the cursing and watching Jerry Springer throughout the day. But I knew Jay was going to follow her. Jay promised Mr. R that he would "respect" us and our home and not come here. He also promised that he wouldn't call the house, and that he wouldn't bring any drama to our front door. Sissy has lived with us for less than 6 days, and every promise was already broken. Sounds like a winner, doesn't he. I can't imagine WHY anyone would want to leave such a charming gentleman!
I Haz a Sad
So, Mr. R's sister moved in with us last week. If nothing else, it makes me feel so sad for her, and so relieved for myself. It's easy to get caught up in "woe is me" feelings until you run into someone who really has it bad. My poor sister-in-law just really can't catch a break. Her ex will not stop calling her and leaving the worst messages on her voice mail. She has no job...very few prospects. No high school diploma, GED, or any college. 35 years old and can't support her own son. Mr. R and I paid for her car registration and some gas money just so she could drive around and try to find a job. I'm assuming that my nephew will be staying here for part of the summer, if not all. He's almost 16, so you can imagine how much this one will be eating. She really wants her own place. I can see why, I mean, she is sleeping on a blow up bed in Missy's room. She wants her own place. You can't blame her.
So, even though last week Mr. R and I went through some major financial garbage, it makes our issues look like cake. Cake, I tell you!
What happened to Mr. R and I last wee:
1) Brakes went out on Magnum. $225 to fix.
2) Water pump went out on Mr. R's Ram while he was towing our Pastor's boat. Not kidding. Price to tow because Mr. R thinks AAA is a sham: $155.
3) Price to fix said water pump: $550.
4) Air conditioning broke. It's hot as heck here, and I work from home. You know I got it fixed. Price: $600.
I mean, it was just a lot of crap at once. Don't worry, it all got paid for, we still have food in the house and gas in the car, but it was just...ugh, goodbye, moolah.
I may be poor in money, but I'm rich in happiness these days. I have a husband who might drive me bonkers every now and then, but he loves me deeply. He respects me, and cares about me, and treats me with love and dignity. I have three gorgeous kids who can't pick up their socks, but at least I can see them every day. A job that is boring, but is steady and provides awesome health insurance. I have enough money to buy groceries. The lights are on, I have a half tank of gas, and enough coffee for another week.
I am so blessed.
So, even though last week Mr. R and I went through some major financial garbage, it makes our issues look like cake. Cake, I tell you!
What happened to Mr. R and I last wee:
1) Brakes went out on Magnum. $225 to fix.
2) Water pump went out on Mr. R's Ram while he was towing our Pastor's boat. Not kidding. Price to tow because Mr. R thinks AAA is a sham: $155.
3) Price to fix said water pump: $550.
4) Air conditioning broke. It's hot as heck here, and I work from home. You know I got it fixed. Price: $600.
I mean, it was just a lot of crap at once. Don't worry, it all got paid for, we still have food in the house and gas in the car, but it was just...ugh, goodbye, moolah.
I may be poor in money, but I'm rich in happiness these days. I have a husband who might drive me bonkers every now and then, but he loves me deeply. He respects me, and cares about me, and treats me with love and dignity. I have three gorgeous kids who can't pick up their socks, but at least I can see them every day. A job that is boring, but is steady and provides awesome health insurance. I have enough money to buy groceries. The lights are on, I have a half tank of gas, and enough coffee for another week.
I am so blessed.
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