Tag Archive | boyfriend

We’re Going West, My Friends

Family trips can be a huge source of stress for me. The planning, packing for 7 people, securing hotels, car, transportation and everything else that goes with it is just exhausting. Not to mention that the change in sleep cycles and routines can really do a number on my mental health.

All that being said, guess what I’m in the midst of doing. Planning a vacation. I’ve actually reached the point where I’m beginning to pack. I have a mere 4 days until we depart. Even though I’ve been planning this for months, I feel like I’m drowning in to-do lists.

Part of this is self imposed. I want the house spotless before we leave. There’s nothing worse than coming home to a messy house after vacation. So I’ve got everyone on cleaning detail. This is creating more headaches than its helping at the moment though. The kids are rebelling. They’ve put together a list of demands that they insist must be met before they will continue in their work. I don’t negotiate with terrorists, no matter how cute they may be, so it seems we’re at a standoff.

I wanted to buy small travel pillows. We’re taking the train there and flying back, so I need something small we can cram into a bag on the way home. After looking at my options, I decided it would be cheaper to make my own. It was cheaper to buy the materials. Now, being that I have no time to make these things, I just need to find a bunch of little mice to sew them up for me. I wonder if Cinderella’s little friends would be up for it…

I also got the great idea to make these felt Mr. Potato Heads to keep the kids busy on the 2 day train ride. They’re so cute and compact, and even a couple the older girls wanted to have one. I started those two weeks ago. Guess who’s still not done. Oh well. At least I only need to cut out the accessories.

I have 3 1/2 people packed, clothes-wise. That’s half way done! Woo hoo! It also means I have 3 1/2 more people to pack. Okay, fine, it’s more like after the half is done I only need to pack for myself. Knowing the eldest and the boyfriend, I’ll have to double check bags though.

The eldest will pack too much, as teenage girls often do. She recently went on a week long trip and took two bags for herself. I’ve been packing everyone else’s clothes two people to one duffle bag. I don’t mess around when it comes to packing.

The boyfriend will do the opposite. He tried to argue that one pair of shorts would be enough for a 10 day trip. Yeah… um no. I’m sure he’ll forget something important too, like his underwear. I’m not sure I ever met a man who was good at packing.

Despite all this chaos (or maybe because of it) I’m really looking forward to this vacation. We’ll be spending time with the boyfriend’s friends and family, we’ll see some beautiful scenery, including waterfalls, which I’m psyched about. I know that it will be a great time. It’s just the preparing stage that makes me bonkers. Then it should be all good… until it’s time to come home and unpack it all, that is.


Whining from the First World

Date night. An all important part of any relationship. Just the two of us, away from the kids, enjoying each other’s company. I look forward to these times.

With all the chaos that has befallen us, date night has ceased to exist. This is completely unacceptable. So I did what any self-respecting woman would do. I threw a temper tantrum. I kicked, screamed, whined, and complained until my boyfriend was ready to fully submit to my will and agree to a whole weekend for just us. Or maybe I asked nicely and he said yes without having to be beaten into submission. Believe what you will…

Anywho, this weekend getaway is fast approaching. It begins exactly one week from tomorrow, actually. Woo hoo for us!

Problem is, we still don’t know where to go. We’ve tossed around a few ideas, but nothing seems to have stuck. One second, I’m all about finding a nice cabin far away from it all where we can just enjoy each other’s company and take in some natural beauty. The next, I want to plan a million things in that one weekend because I don’t know when this will happen again.

Sigh. First world problems are sooo hard to deal with. Sometimes, I yearn for a simpler life where all I need to worry about is when I will eat again or if the water I’m drinking is clean or not. Man, that would be the life.. *crap! I misplaced my sarcasm font again!*

The Girl Who Never Cleaned

It seems my posts are getting further and further apart. I guess I need to start making writing a priority again, but with so much going on, it’s honestly hard to find time to breathe these days.

The eldest is still not walking right. She’s in a wheelchair anytime she’s not at home. Her strength is slowly coming back. I wish I could say the same for mine. Bi-weekly physical therapy, weekly neurologist appointments, and various other appointments fill my time now. When I’m not running, I’m trying to keep up with school, my business, and the house. Needless to say, the house is suffering. There’s a story behind why this last one bothers me so. If you sit a spell, I’ll share the tale with you.


That was mighty old-fashioned of me, so here’s an old fashioned photo to go with it.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who got married at a young age. This girl had many responsibilities growing up and felt that she had been treated unfairly. This caused her to shirk her adult responsibilities and her house became a huge mess. Her spouse wasn’t much help, often adding more to the mess than he ever helped with, and then blaming her for the state of the home. After all, she was home with two kids under 4 (one of whom was a newborn) all day. Surely she had tons of time and motivation to get things done while he was gone.


This bodes well for getting housework done, let me tell you.

Over the next year, her house displayed varying levels of cleanliness, but mostly, it looked like an episode of Hoarders gone wrong. Okay, maybe not quite that  bad, but it was sure close. After child number three came along, she fell into a deep depression. As you can imagine, the emotional state was reflected in the appearance in her home. Some days she could barely find the motivation to brush her hair, let alone do the dishes.


Something tells me this woman was having one of those days. That, or she couldn’t locate a mirror.

Through the years, more and more messes were made and it seemed to the girl that the more she cleaned, the messier it got. No matter how much she plead with those who shared her home, she could not get help doing even the simplest of chores. The girl gave up. Her house was forever a pigsty after that.


I can safely say my house never got this bad. Thank goodness!

The End

Only it wasn’t. That douche of a spouse left. At first, the house wasn’t any cleaner because the girl felt like a failure. She had made promises and now they had been broken. Not by her, but by him. She felt she had failed her kids and her whole family. She felt she failed herself.

Little by little, her eyes opened. She realized that she hadn’t been in a healthy place for a long time and part of that was because of him. Now that he was gone, she could find herself again, because she didn’t even know who she was anymore. She became happier and as she did, her house got cleaner and cleaner. She realized that having a clean house made her feel better too.


I wish my house looked like this. It’s simply not this pretty though.

Fast forward to now. The girl is happy-ish. Things are tough, sure, but they seem to be getting better. She has so much to do, that the house is beginning to slip again. The girl thinks back to the way it used to be. The way her house used to look. She looks around, unhappy with where things are. She knows it’s not bad yet, but worries that it could get there. She gets so much more help now, so that’s huge, but she still feels like she should be doing more to help. She feels this way, but instead of cleaning, she writes, because right now, it’s all she knows how to do to keep sane.

Which End Up?

These past weeks have been trying to say the very least. I’ve hit a low that is unlike any other I’ve experienced before. It’s uniqueness stems from the fact that I have much to be happy about while I am curled into the fetal position crying about what is going wrong. I swear, my life is more bipolar than I am right now.

My grandfather passed away. He was 89. He lived a long and wonderful life and for that, I’m happy. But the way he passed away is something I cannot be okay with. He was hit by a car and then spent the next 3 days in the hospital before passing away. Yes, he was 89, but the man was in great health and still sharp as a tack. He could have easily seen 100 if this accident hadn’t happened. Yes, it was an accident. Little old lady hit the gas instead of the brakes. I plan on writing a beautiful piece about him some day, but right now, I just don’t have it in me. I think the pain is too fresh.

Less than a week before this occurred, my mom was in the hospital for a suspected heart attack. She’s been in to see specialist after specialist now and will be having a cardiac catheter done this week. I’m really worried about her. She’s only 52.

My eldest is having so many health issues it’s not funny. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve taken her to the doctor in the past few weeks. After taking her to the ER the other night, she experienced not one, but two allergic reactions medications they gave her. Now, she can barely walk and the only thing we can do is wait. If she’s not improved by tomorrow, it’s another trip to the doctor for us.

The younger kids have been having some emotional issues due to my grandpas passing and that is presenting in their behavior. Trying to balance all that is becoming pretty tiresome.

School is one of those things I’m holding tight to right now because it helps me focus on something positive, but I’ve been so busy at home, doing my homework is becoming more and more difficult and now I need to drop a class I really like due to attendance.

I haven’t had time to decompress from anything lately except for a night with friends and a date night. My sewing machine is collecting dust, my craft box has been untouched, my books are collecting dust and I haven’t written for pleasure in ages.

All of this makes my heart hurt. There is a literal, physical pain in me right now. I want to fall apart for a million reasons, but I trudge on. My tank is on empty. I NEED things to start looking up and fast or I’m not sure where I’m going to end up with all this.

The good thing about these past few weeks is that my family seems more supportive and closer. I hope this will last. My boyfriend has been his amazing, supportive, helpful self through all of this and I truly believe that if it wasn’t for him, I’d be in a much darker place right now. He really does help keep me strong. I’ve had a chance to spend a lot of time with my eldest, but I wish she were feeling better so we could enjoy it even more.

I also FINALLY got a minivan yesterday, after needing one for ages. I’m so glad that’s out of the way. It’s pretty and it’s red. I never thought I’d own a red car, but this one suits me nicely I think. Plus, beggars can’t be choosers, and the price was right, so… lol. The BF even let me do the haggling and I think I did mighty nice. I managed to talk them down almost 15% from the sticker price! Go me!

So like I said, I’m in a weird place. I have a lot to be happy about, but life also seems to think it’s a good time to throw every type of chaos possible my way. Hopefully things will mellow soon. The optimist in me is getting pretty worn down.

A Belated Valentine’s Rant

I am slacker. Hear me snore! I had this great idea for a blog on Valentines day. I even did a voice to text transcript on my phone while driving to school. Silly me forgot to save said transcript, so sadly, my ramblings were lost. Maybe that’s a good thing though, as my voice to text program sucks. Long story short, I still feel my rant has some post-worthy-ness, so here are my thoughts on Valentines Day.

I don’t celebrate Valentines Day. It’s not because I’m a lonely, bitter person who can’t stand others around me being all lovey-dovey. (I will say that can get a tad nauseating though) I’m also not one of those girls who says they don’t want anything and then gets all worked up when you don’t get her anything. No. I mean it. I don’t celebrate it. I have a few reasons for my Valentine’s grinchy attitude.

My daughter’s birthday is Valentine’s day. Anyone who has a birthday on or near a large gift giving holiday will tell you that their birthday seems a bit forgotten at times. Just ask my eldest. The poor child was born six days before Christmas. I prefer not to give or receive gifts on this day because it may take away from the enjoyment of her birthday.

My birthday is in the same week. Why would I, all old and stuff, need two days of getting gifts so close together? You want to get me a Valentine’s Day gift? Give me a birthday present instead. I’m old, like I said, so I don’t get many of those anymore. Recognizing the day of my birth and marking that with a gift that says, “Hey! You’re special to me!” is just about the most amazing thing to me. Maybe that’s because as an adult, birthday gifts can be as rare as a bigfoot sighting.

Text-speak has completely ruined the holiday. Even IF I wanted to celebrate, I’m not sure I could. Abbreviating things has become so mainstream that nothing is sacred any more. They’ve turned St. Patrick’s Day into St. Paddy’s Day, Christmas into X-Mas, and now Valentines Day has been coined “V-Day”.

Am I alone in being totally creeped out by this? V-Day brings to mind two things for me. Vagina’s and venereal disease. I don’t know about you, but when someone wishes me a “Happy V(enereal disease) Day”, I don’t get that warm, tingly feeling deep inside. If I did, I’d be seeing a doctor.

Happy V(agina) Day isn’t quite as bad, but it still doesn’t evoke feelings of warm tender love to me. I know a woman’s reproductive system is a beautiful thing, but I don’t really need a day devoted to my womanly pieces. Although, I suppose one could argue that women are the main supporters of Valentine’s Day and women usually come equipped with vaginas, but that seems a bit far fetched.

Personally, I feel like Valentine’s Day is closely akin to Sweetest Day. They’re both bullshit. Forgive my French, but it’s true. If you love someone, why do you need two days a year to remind you that you need to show them that. True love happens all year round. I’d rather have someone surprise me on a random day of the year with special tokens of their affection than get a generic gift on a generic holiday. If it’s spontaneous, it means more to me than any mass produced trinket you can get for Valentine’s Day.

I am lucky enough to be with someone who understands this and practices this. He once bought my lilies (my favorite flower) on HIS birthday because he figured it would be the day I would least expect it. He does little things for me every day, from the dishes to foot rubs while we watch TV. Every once in a while, he knocks my socks off with a special gift or night out. The point is, he shows me every day that he loves me in about a million ways. I am so spoiled and beyond lucky. My only hope is that I show him how much he means to me even half as well as he does with me.

The Muse Has Returned

I have been on a high note lately and I’m really grooving on it. My plans for the future are taking shape a bit more and I’ve been kicking domestic ass. I’ve been on such a roll that I had to pause and ask myself, “Am I going manic?”

My answer to myself is, “I’m not quite sure.” You see, I’m taking vitamins and supplements again after not taking them for close to a year. I usually drag my butt during the day and always feel exhausted. This leads to me sitting on my ass and accomplishing little to nothing. When I used to take vitamins and supplements, I had a tendency to be more productive, so maybe it’s that? I think it just might be.

Either way, I’m grooving on the change. I’ve been able to get so much accomplished. In the past two days, I’ve managed to write over 3,000 words in my book. Considering all I have accomplished up to this point is write notes, plot outline, character profiles, write a journal from the main characters POV, and write the first chapter, it’s damn good work.

I know, that sounds like a lot. When you consider I decided to write a novel back in October, it begins to put things into perspective. I have now broken ground on chapter three and I’m thoroughly pleased with the way chapter two turned out. Chapter one will need some rework, but I was so focused on trying to get that right, it was discouraging me. I decided it would be in the books benefit to leave it be and come back to it later.

My creative juices are flowing full force. I already have another book idea. (Keep in mind the one I’m working on may end up being a three part series. I have too much going on with these characters to stop at one book) This new idea was actually inspired by one of my BF’s dreams. It was a pretty cool dream and I think it would make an even better book.  The dream was sci-fi fantasy based, so it’s right up my alley. I immediately asked him if I could use those details as a creative basis for a book. He agreed. YAY! Best. Boyfriend. EVER! I jotted down some notes until I can get into it further.

All in all, things are going wonderfully. Here’s hoping it keeps up after school starts!

Pavlov and the Universe

Yeah…. It’s been forever since my last post. I suck. I’m not totally sure why it’s been so long either. I have some theories, but who knows if they carry any weight.

This past week or so has been me being sick, again, dealing with kids who have pneumonia, (hurray for the flu turning into something that could potentially kill a person), and my own descent into the darkest parts of me. Yeah, it’s been great.

There is hope though. I’m physically better, kids are on the mend, and I had the best date night tonight! My mood was brightening and I though maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to pull me out of my funk long term. Or at least for a few days. Boy, was I overly hopeful.

Today was a great day. My only regret is that I didn’t spend more time with the kiddos, but with the way I’ve been lately, I’m not sure they would have been all too happy if I had. My batteries have been beyond low and I seem to have a hair trigger these days. To put it bluntly, I’ve been a bitch. Not just an ordinary run of the mill bitch either. A mega bitch. One who breathes fire, has horns, and terrifies all the little people. Kinda like this…


Yeah, yeah. I know it’s a dragon. I couldn’t find a picture of a crazy woman breathing fire who had horns, so please feel free to use your imaginations. Besides, that’s a fairly accurate representation of me the past week. And for those of you out there who may be wondering, no it is not that time of the month for me. I’m also not preggo. That factory was closed down long ago.

When I’m not breathing fire on all the tiny villagers in my home, I’m feeling lost, lonely and really damn needy. I am not typically a needy person. This is so not cool with me. I’ve been up the BF’s ass worse than a hemorrhoid and I feel like crying every ten seconds. This shit is going to make me crazy all on it’s own. I feel like such a girl, and in the worst of ways. Crying makes me feel weak, and I despise feeling weak. Historically, this is when I get shit on most. Kick her while she’s down, right? So I do everything in my power not to show these emotions. Which never works because they always come out in some way, shape, or form. Problem is, I’m too proud to admit that I need to lean on someone hard right now. Typing this is borderline painful right now.

So what to do. If I were talking to one of my kids, I’d say, “You need to tell us what you need. We are not mind readers. If you’re sad, mad, feel like you need something that you’re not getting, you need to let us know. We can’t help you if we don’t know what the problem is and we don’t expect you to deal with everything on your own.” Then I’d wrap them into a hug so amazing, they’d have no choice but to open up to me, because, hey, I’m cool like that.

Funny how I have all this wisdom in my teensy tiny brain to share with others, but not enough common sense to use it for myself. Yes, I am blissfully aware of the irony in this situation. Or is it blissfully unaware? Well, how about whichever makes me sounds like less of a dumbass.

Maybe my unwillingness to show weakness is a bit like Pavlov’s stimulus response. Although, my conditioning is a bit different than salivating on myself. (Okay there was that one time but I was really drunk) My conditioning had been I show vulnerability and I get hurt. Time and time again, this has happened to me. It makes a person nervous. It has nothing to do with my trust in those I love. I trust them all as much as I love them, which is a terrifying amount. I don’t trust that if I reach out my paw hand for help, the universe won’t bitch slap it back into my pocket.