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Mar09

Nothing much going on.

It’s really cold here.
Like 10 degrees or even lower.
I hate winter.
I am sick of winter.
I am really, really ready for it to be warm.

My friend and I were discussing seasons here in Ohio. We realized, that with winter and all the cold months, that we literally only have about 3 months of actual warm, good enough to go outside days. 90 fucking days. That’s about it. I am just realizing this after living here for 31 years.

I wonder how high the depression rate is in Ohio, and how much of that depression rate is attributed to the seasons being so fucking shitty.

I like Ohio and all. But man alive, I want some sunshine. I got about ten minutes worth yesterday morning and felt like a new person. WTF is that all about?

Other stuff…

I went to Chuck E. Cheese yesterday with my oldest son.
Just the two of us. Will Smith Style.
I had so much fun, watching my son have fun.
He is so sweet.
He is so happy.
His big brown eyes and his long eyelashes.
He was running around so much he was out of breath and his cheeks were apple red.

I realized as a mother of three, that I have to try and do this with all three of them as much as possible. To take them out alone with just me or their dad so that they can enjoy us alone.

I can’t wait to see him run around this summer and be all apple cheeked and red and dirty and sweaty and having fun chasing fire flies with his sister. While the baby sits on a blanket and giggles.

Where is the sunshine Mother Nature?

Mar05

Venturing out

Image hosted by Photobucket.com I am about to venture out into the cold air of Ohio and take my children to the library.

I promised them three nights ago, if they took their medicine and went to bed, we would and I quote “Mommy will take you both to the library! Won’t that be fun!?” they responded “YAY!!! LIBRARY!!!!”.

To my surprise, they both took it and went straight to sleep.

So of course, they marked today on their tiny little mental calendars, and when I woke up this early morn, they were both in my face.

Mya: “MOM!!!!!!!! TODAY! Today we go to the library!”
Keifer: “LI-BRA-REEEEEEEEEEEE”
Both of them in unison: “YAAYYYYYY?”
Me: “ooga. huh?” rubs eyes. wakes. gets coffee.

I am still in my pajamas. They, including the baby, are all naked. with diapers and underwear. They look like village babies.

They keep screaming “LIBRAREEEEEEEEEEEE!” as if it’s the secret word of the day, like on the Pee Wee Herman show.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!”. Then the baby screams because he has to chime in as well. “AHHHH AHHHHH MUM!”

I need to get motivated. I promised them. But I can’t move. I am still drinking coffee. I have to get them all dressed, not sure if I am going to walk there in the brisk winter air, or if my husband will drop us off, which would require me dressing another individual. He said he didn’t mind. But I might, I don’t wanna dress 4 people including myself. I think the stroller and the feet will have to do. I can’t dress one more person.

Once we get there, I will juggle the two older ones as my husband gets to sit at home with the baby and relax in quiet. Lucky man. I owe it to him after he has been home all week, trying to relax during his much awaited vacation. He hasn’t had a full week off in the 6 years he has worked his fingers off. And instead of relaxation, the man has helped me juggle the three chilrens, taking the baby to the doctor twice this week, helping out with laundry, cooking, cleaning, letting me sleep in until 1 o’clock on my birthday. I know he deserves this day with the baby and nothing else.

It won’t be so bad. My kids love books, they love to read, they need to get out of the house and get air, and maybe when we get back they won’t be eating each other’s flesh and actually be tamed for a little while.

Then we can all have a nice dinner, which is simmering in the crock pot as I speak. My homemade BBQ shredded pork. I make my own sauce and everything. We put it on buns and eat it with slaw or with mac salad. I love my crock pot. It’s from heaven.

So, as I venture forth into this cold world, with two kids in tow, going to the library (YAY!), keep me in mind. Send me good vibes, that we all make it back alive.
hee hee.

Library! Yay!

Mar05

Killing me softly

Remember that song? I am not talking about the Fugee’s version. That one made me have hemmoroids. And I’m not talking about the one way back when, like when I wore pigtails, I think Roberta Flack sung that one.
I am thinking more like in the early 1990’s.
Remember Al B. Sure? Yea, that version.

Anyhow, as nice as it would be to hear that, again. I will hafta do a google search on Ol’ Al B. who is probably all fat and hairy these days

OH. YEA, BTW- this entry is not about Al.

I found a new group that is up and coming. I saw the video and was drawn in. Not just because I am a visual person, but because I liked how it sounded. Almost 80’s like, and very haunting. Their name is The Killers. And if they are not very new to you, they are to me, ok? I am an old fart bag. Remember?

The fact that I heard them again on Regis and Kelly, whom I watch in the mornings because there isn’t anything else on and I like Regis’ funky lil ass, had been a reminder to myself to check out their site and get their CD.

When my sister in law came over to play with the kids tonight, I asked her “DO you know about some new group called the Killers?”
She looked at me sideways and goes “How did you know about them? I love them.”
As if I knew about some secret society.
I felt like a dork. A big dork.
She looked at me sideways.

I go “I like them. I like their song Mr. Brightside. Do you have anything by them?” she goes “yea, I can burn you some, want me to?” Of course I do, young whipper snapper.
She seemed like she would be doing me some huge favor by helping out the dork in me.

Then I said “they have a distinct 80’s sound.”
She goes “yes, that they do, I love it!”.
Let me tell you, She was born in 1988.
She acts as if she can remember the year and the decade. I love it. I love her. She kills me.
She is going to help me stay undorky even at 31.

Check out the Killers… they be Killing me, man. They are hot young lads as well. Little young hot, whipper snappers.

Mar03

Do it.

I am angry right now.

Someone I love and hold very dear to me was hurt tonight. Made to feel as if they weren’t good enough. Was made to question their ability as an artist.

I want to throw things and make people vanish.

What makes me the most angry is, that this person has enormous talent. This person has more talent than they realize.
Their form of craft is unique.
It has SO MUCH promise.

And they were made to question that.

To question their own ability to create.
They were made to feel as if they were not good enough.

As artists, no matter what your craft, be it writing a book, painting, acting, etc., you feel pressured to measure up. Measured up in your own mind. Even if your talent is enormous, you bare your soul, and you put yourself out there, and baring yourself can be brutal. Almost violating. No, not almost, it can be.

I might be talking out of my ass because I am angry. When I am angry I don’t make sense. All I know is that my friend has enormous talent at what they do. I don’t want my friend to give up. This person inspires me. I believe tremendously in this person’s ability to perform as a great artist.

I believe in you.
So do it.

Mar01

Dirty One

I am thirty one. Or, as I like to say it, Dirty One.

At the stroke of midnight I thought I would glow all glittery and look radiant and feel that “happy birthdayness” we all used to feel as kids.
But I ain’t a kid no more.

Thirty was cool. Novelty age. Thirty one feels like something different. Why?

Man, where did time go?
I remember just turning 21 and getting so drunk I passed out.
And I remember clubbing in my early twenties and being a complete moron and in a total self destructive mode in all areas of my life.
“Weeeeeeeeee! I have no responsibilities!!!! I can self destruct! WEeeeee!”

Then I remember one day, I was a MOM.
A mom.
Now I am a mom, with three kids.
How did that happen?

Don’t answer that, smart ass.

I feel old. Washed up. Saggy. I use Olay cream to banish off the evil crows feet that are hanging out in the rafters, waiting to attack me. Even though my husband says I look young ( yea, he hasn’t even turned 30 yet!) And my little girl says “Mommy you are young! Not old! You will be 41 in ten years! I will be 16!” Gee thanks baby girl. I can hardly wait for THAT.

People, nice people, have said I look 10 years younger than I am.
Thanks nice people. I appreciate your kind words. They make me feel better.

But I still feel old. It’s not about how I look. I feel old.

This entry makes no sense.

See!? I am already not making sense.

Again, I wanted to write a meaningful entry about something sentimental, and I can’t. It’s not happenin’.

I need sleep.

The baby has a COLD. The pediatrician told me to do what I am already doing. Because it’s just a COLD.

I feel old and my baby has a cold. La dee da dee dee. My vagina is saggy and my eyes are big and baggy. La dee dee dee dee.

I want cake.

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