~ HerdinKittys ~

On occasion, I have been known to sit back and smile, if only to enjoy the fleeting seconds of euphoria created by the tightly flexed muscles of my mouth.  Even if few and far between these days, those moments are saved for two very special wee people in my life.  Savored and thrown out into the world to fall upon my girls, hoping only that a reciprocating smile be cast my way.

It's not that things are frantic or sad...no reason really.  Depression hasn't reared her ugly head and this is relief enough to stay calm.  The silence has become bearable - if not a little achy, I mean come on - and there are plenty of "daddy videos" installed on the computer to keep us in touch.

I like to think of it as a joint investment in consideration of a newly acquired girlfriend.  The girls now have play friends and I have someone who can carry a dialog, sound intelligent, all at the same time, and listen to my story as well.  As with most girlfriends of the past, she is the vibrant and energetic of this new friendship wherein I, remain the more subdued.  I'm comfortable in this setting.

It is, after all, the core foundation of most of my relationships.

Whether that includes Earl and I remains to be seen...we've changed dramatically these past few years - our foundation contracting and expanding, allowing for the bumps and grinds to happen, not destroying us in the process.

My internal organs have posted lease termination notices.   Ye old gallbladder raced right to the forefront (he has been hangin around, all inflicted, since 2004) once again this Friday...sending mamsita straight to the trusty army UCC.  At which point my pains intensified not only due to the insufferable wait but alas, the bitch of a civilian doctor employed there...barking at me as if I were in the military.  I regress, forgive, but seriously - Bitch, my husband's in the Navy, not me. 

To which my early a.m. appointment came and went smoothly today due to the gentle and efficient touch of the Army Reservist who replaced the bitch that was.  My gallbladder thanks her.

Note forwarded to the asshole causing nausea, gut pain, shoulder pain, and bloating...your time is short.  Get your kicks now 'cause your sludgy ass is gonna be snipped.

A frown less angry rather a tad more 'pfft, please', issued to the hairstylist that snipped my lovely locks Saturday.  Dearness, I understand the sheer exhaustion twins - as a true single mother no less - must bring to your life.  However, this does not allow you the luxury of poo pooing and one upping other mothers.  Ever.  We're all exhausted.  I bitch and whine but I do NOT feel my role is any more or less time consuming and frustrating than any other parent.  I'm not saying 'get over it' just ...calm the fuck down with the pity party.

Yeah, I see what I wrote.  Taking note of it.

So, it's not so much all these things that keep my smiles at bay, more, things that happen that just don't make any sense.  That luck isn't with me a whole lot these days is more the culprit. 

We came in from the cold this afternoon, mom and two bebes draped across her shoulders, both sleeping soundly and ready to be placed in their cribs.  The only thing keeping me from dropping soundly into the warmth of my own bed was the steady blinking light of the voice-mail. 

Interesting.  I had already spoken with my mom and all friends were off taking care of their own families...no time for phone calls. 

A quick check and a call back and it seems - our townhouse was vacated.  Early.  As in four months early and some pretty nice loose change early to boot.  In asking the property manager what happened, finding that he had ignored my previous call earlier in 2006 to extend her lease, it seems the person renting thought she had to leave in January. 

I'm sorry. Fucking what?  It's the thirteenth of February and I'm just now being told that she left in January? 

What's done is done and now, without the benefit of the man whom actually owns the damn place, I'm soaking up the cost of three months of mortgage, hoping beyond all hope that no other incidents occur.  Because that would just be icing on the cake.

Here's to the smiles - may they brighten the rooms and lighten the faces of those we love.  May they also lessen the stress within. 

 

                                           U.S. Navy photo by Photographer’s Mate 1st Class Robert R. McRill

That's his boat.  Yeah, I have personal pics of the boat deploying but I do not have the authorization of that particular photographer.  So this is a publicly released one.  There, credit given.  No, he doesn't go out on a fishing boat.  I know it can be confusing to read military terms - sorry about that. 

I assume, wrongly I might add, that people just know what I'm talking about.  In this vein, here's the best I can offer up tonight. 

As per normal references, a submarine is called a boat rather than a ship.  Please do not ever call a U.S. naval ship a boat.  Please feel free to call a submarine either...just know...it's usually referred to as a boat.  Why?  Here's a link if you're game.  Just a few quick facts on the whole service. 

I'm not gonna get maudlin and go into why I've been antsy and hyper but rather, tell you that my children are officially insane.  Growth spurt against Personality spurt.  You take your pick but I'm standing back and watching the chaos that is the bebes.  I gotta say, even though it is not a normally allowable occurrence, the smaller one has quite the backhand on her.  To the older child who keeps taking the little one's sippy cup, Barbie's, dump truck, anything of importance to her, watch your back.  She is gonna Fuck your shit up one of these days. 

Oh, I'll be there to stop it.  I'm just sayin kid.  The little one isn't playin - I know, ask me about the temper fit she threw in Wal o shopping center, acting up a fool and throwing her upper body backwards over her seat.  Arms and neck in one backwards position, perfectly still, screaming at the top of her lungs.  That's drama little lady and she will not stop with that in ceasing your rampage - o- bebe stuff.  Please, as your mom, I'm beggin you.  Stop snatchin shit out of her hand.  It's gonna get nasty up in here.

So yeah, that's all I have tonight.  Just thinking of places to take these two wild ones so that little tempers don't explode all over these walls.  Fuck this cold. 

And the silence?  The silence is truly, deafening.  Damn.

Today is the day that two little bebes and their mom are to get back together.  After a full week of crazed errand running, working with video equipment, cursing at the equipment in several languages, mad house cleaning, and some substantial pity party throwing - all without the bebes - I am more than ready to go get them from the in-laws

Two things have been discovered whilst the wee ones were elsewhere.  A)  There is a major issue in my laziness when it comes to not needing to get things done Right Now as with children and 2)  I do not eat when the bebes are elsewhere.  I simply let the whole process slip by me.  My mother came to stay with me last night, mostly for her own sake and sanity, and as she walked through the door she handed me a bag of food containing some take-out.  The smell of the nachos just about knocked me off my feet as I remembered for a split second the main course up until that point - coffee.  It was 5 p.m. 

Food has always been a crutch, a way to get past the moments that jump out at me from all angles and instead of letting them get me, I get to food first.  Are the bites comforting?  No, nor is the taste of whatever is being consumed.  There is an element beyond that, pretending to be somewhere else, someone else, enjoying a palate of good eats and having the body to afford the gluttony.  It's an escape mechanism and when points of bites are counted, the inability to get lost in the mental scenery is staggering, making each bite disgusting.  When points are counted and food is eaten on a whim, I usually end up nauseous, stuck there with food in my mouth.  Then it is merely a race to the trash to spit out the forbidden morsel before any mere calorie is absorbed.  It's all very mind boggling, giving me more fuel for the self abuse fodder.  Eh, at least it's somewhat healthy no?

So with the reminder to not speed, the urge to grab my bebes and hold them close, and the residue of sleep making me in great need of a warm shower, I'm off.  And I suppose I'll eat today.  Which is good.   

Inability

Ah me, things promised but the inability to deliver as promised. 

Words promised not to be written but the inability to do so despite any implications. 

Time spent in the company of strangers, the inability to decipher which of whom have it out for you. 

Knowing your love through time zones, the inability to physically reciprocate.

The schedules that are laid before us, the inability to keep them.

The personal introduction and extension of support to the spouses of those who work under you, met with their (her) inability to discern you from me, between your job and you, between their (her) husband's feelings toward you from theirs (hers) toward me.

Wanting to tell you that it hurt my feelings, knowing full well the inability to do so for fear of spouse finding out through word of mouth via the email readers.  The boat is  only so big for cripes sake.

The feeling of dread over our soon-to-be absolute zero communication over a few upcoming months due to the exact specifics of what it is that you do, a crippling, mind numbing inability to stop said upcoming events.

Missing you so much my heart actually hurts, the inability to keep tears from burning as I edit this post. 

As I make sure that I don't get utterly lost in missing you, an inability to stop. It.

I miss you hun.  I'm going through the motions and they seem stale.  I hope you find sleep in your rack, dreaming nicely, waking without having to face any inabilities hindering you through the days stomping toward us.

Rachel

 

Edited: let's just say...

So, let's just say that you're a sucker for punishment and decide to pack the girls up, Again, and head out west, Again, to visit the in-laws for an extended weekend visit.

These in-law persons are - sweet, charitable, responsible, and most of all quiet.  Say you're not.  How do you think that would go, hmmm?  In fact, say you're so completely unlike them in the volume world that you just might have to remind yourself several times over several days to just Shut Up.  Because you just might be intimidating and pissing off the in-law persons.

So, there you might be at the in-laws with things going better than anticipated, all proud of yourself that you a) got up and dressed before the bebes needed attention  b) got little people fed, dressed, changed of the stanky diapers, dressed Again, shoes on, coats on and out the door 3) vacuumed out the car with the little people in it and helped them to remain calm and coherent throughout the ordeal d) back in car, driving to the in-law persons local super mega Shop O Warehouse and all by

                       9:45 a.m.

Say this makes you happier than a motherf!cker on a 3 day binge out on shore leave after 6 months out to sea and that all was good ........

Until

Karma decides it's time to Pay UP B!tch!

Stopped. For speeding. Gawd Dayum hick town. 

Never mind the good ol boy trucks whirring by my plain jane station wagon o' dodge.  Nay Nay.  I look too ghetto around here.

Never mind the impeccable driving record of one HK and her law abiding self.......no warning for you lady. 

Was I wrong? You better believe I was.  I was simply too giddy and not paying attention and damn if I wasn't going 58 in a 45.  The law's the law.  But damn.  Bubba blew past me going well over 60 and your police car came up on me like I was importing some not so good stuff.  Good on ya.

Say that you now can't get over all the stories from friends who brag about getting out of the ticket.  I don't flirt with cops...it makes for super nasty MOJO.

Say that you promised to make dinner tonight for everyone and all you wanna do is drive home to your ghetto neighborhood (it's nice but I'm bein real, the area is gh-e-t-t-o) and crash in your own place and forget about other people.  Not the little ones.  They're too cute.  But the big ones.  Who are too nice.  I'm not in a nice mood.

Damn it!

Past Life Part One

I had another post written out, full of beautiful words and long sentences.  I thought, okay, this is pretty good stuff, it's helping to get everything out and then I realized - it wasn't me. 

Most who know me know that I only talk "large" or "eloquent" when I'm fired up.  I can throw down a beautiful phrase with the best of them however, those phrases tend to not jibe with how I am internalizing.  Basically, I truly enjoy reading a well written phrase/post/book and it stops there.  Please read:  I like your work,  whomever this is offending, I just don't like the style on me.

Therefore, stop reading Right Now if small talk gibber isn't your source of enjoyment.  In fact, run away from the blog.

A long, long time ago in a life I barely recognize, there was a man.  A tall, handsome, intelligent, gainfully-employed man whom caught my eye and likewise.

Myself, in my early to mid twenties, thought that this man was the epitome of what success could be and promptly fell for him.  Hard.  Without realizing him for the gigantic P.O.S. he truly was.

Ohhh betcha bottom booty I'm still angry.  Which doesn't make sense does it?  I'm happily married and what's more have a guy who would never cheat. I shouldn't make an issue out of nothing there.  And why even bring it up at all?

Because I'm like that.  Because everything stated above is all good and fine and makes daisies bloom and therapists smile and  - it's simply not who I am.  I dwell, I gnash of the teeth, I sink into depression and pull myself up out of the muck but most of all these things, I dwell.

When I go down a street close to where he lives I freeze for a brief second, remembering the cold rush of disgust and panic.  Who's he with tonight?  He called but is he home? 

Sex Addict.  The addiction to sex.  Something I am not nor would I want to be deigned.  There was a time when all things dark like sex addiction just didn't make sense.  Why would anyone care about this and if it was a problem, why stay?

2:30 in the a.m. and there you lay, wondering, "If I just love him more....", "If I just lost a little more weight he wouldn't need anyone else", "God I hope he isn't out whoring".

Sound bites into a mind that knew for chrissake what this man was doing around town.  Knew that when he came home that one time, frantically explaining how cold it was and rainy and there was a woman walking by herself OUT in the rain Rachel, knew that he was whoring.

He had to pick her up, it was the gentlemanly thing to do and who the Hell was I telling him whom he could or couldn't give a ride.

Prostitute?  Noooo, that's ridiculous, she was wet and cold and it had to be done.

The moments I gave up for this man are mind boggling - just thinking of the time wasted sickens me to this day.  The grays in my hair quickened, the constant stress, the crying jags that lasted for weeks.  Lines on my face that Do Not erase you P.O.S.  Thanks for that. 

What hurts more than all else?  That I allowed myself to endure all that he dished over to me.  I sat in his home, a dog kicked in the gut too many times to care any more about the mental mind trip.  Waited for him to show me love that I thought I so desperately needed from him, and only him.  He was successful and was going places.

My co-workers would laugh when I said I didn't care if he stopped by - the damage was right there in front of them and they knew I would fall apart.

Whores calling from ghetto motels in the downtown area, old girlfriends and his trips that coincided with the area in which they lived, not caring if we kept our date nights and lack of concern in general with anything other than the way I looked.

He was happy to have sex with me, loved it even.  I was incredibly fit, smaller than I had been in years due to not eating and overexercising.  Rants from a deranged woman still make me wonder - the ones wherein I wailed on and on about being fat and disgusting.  No wonder he went elsewhere, my body jiggled for Gawd's sake!

There were denials that I accepted, phone call/caller ids that were seen and ignored - don't want to be one of those snoopy women, gifts and cards that were never received but ohhhhhhh, how those who he courted to fuck.  Now those ladies got the goods.

He was caught once and forgiven.  Out and out caught.  Over at a girlfriends house in the early a.m.  I drove home and took my nightgown, the one that cost more money than I had any right to spend on and Oh My God how it showed the pronounced curve of my back and hips, and placed it on his windshield, under the wipers.  Attached was a note, saying something to the effect of "Caught Ya, Call Me"

Forgiven.

One phone call and frantic pleas that he would stop.  He would stop because didn't I know!  Didn't I know how much he loved me.  What a mistake he had made and how brave of me to confront it head on.  No no no, she meant nothing to him.

Forgiven.

Rolled over.  Like a dog.

I would become pregnant with his child, taking him to the doctors to confirm and watching his horror stricken face as the positive was announced.  I was willing to let him go then, not ever wanting any child of mine to see such disgust on their father's face.

Free, happy and then.....then I miscarried.  I broke into a billion pieces, turning to the only person I thought could ease my pain.  The one I was willing to walk away from for the sake of his own child.  He took me back but only briefly.

The finale, wasn't so short, caught - with a pizza and a woman pulling up to the house just as I pulled up to surprise him that night.  My words, "Are you cheating on me?"

Are you kidding me? 

His, "Yes"

The end, sort of.  I would sleep with him twice after that, once walking out with the last woman waiting at the door for him.  Her expression of sadness or whatever she held in her heart shown only briefly.  She spoke nothing and sat down on his stoop waiting for him.

Like another dog.  Only she was addicted as he was - two sex addicts finding each other.  Ohhh, how lovely for them.

In my hurt and deranged state I walked out to my car and laughed.....told him thanks for the good time.....and drove away.

I would kiss him one more time after that and tell him that he did not own me.  He had not broken me, despite my saying likewise one sunny afternoon, collapsed on his living room floor clutching a small bear, sobbing and asking him "Why?"

He may not have broken me but he did make me gun shy.

Fear of the other woman always around the corner, even when the good guy sleeps next to me in bed.  Nothing to fear.

Except....

The good guy is gone now.  He's out there and trust has to be maintained and it will because he's the good guy.  But I'll always wonder.  And he'll understand and work with me as I work my way through it.  I owe him that. 

There is too much dwelling in the past in this household.  Therefore, the past will be dealt with, spewed out on these pages over the next few posts.  As they come to me and my mind tries to ease itself of burdens it holds far too dearly.  To be that person that dwells here....and now.

The one about the bebe who didn't sleep.........ever

The elder bebe and I are at war.  Quite literally. 

Had you told me two years - no screw that...had you told me a few months ago that my eldest daughter would view sleep as the mortal enemy and cause me to break down into tears, I would have smirked.

I am taking a break from the trauma as I ended up pleading and sobbing and shaking (Me - I was the one who was shaking and sobbing and pleading...don't shake your bebes! I'm not even joking here.  Just had to edit that because I reread this and dear gawd, that didn't type out right).

I've changed 3 pillowcases and 1 sheet because her mode of offense is to puke - and puke she did.  Four separate times.

At one point I grabbed her up and plopped her on my bed and took her face lightly, finger under her chin, and had her look at me and I pleaded again. 

I suppose I'm just weak that way with the pleading and most people would have heart failure just reading a statement like that however, there is only so much crying one can take.

Not even crying really - screeching and wailing and screaming.

And yes, puking.

Spanking is a No and I know what needs to be done but I gave in tonight.  I'm sick and I'm exhausted and I'm lonely yet I can't use those as excuses as there is no one else here to help so - I gave in. 

This is all after a full week of sleep training....a productive week in which she slept and woke and life was good.

All was the same tonight but for some reason, she wasn't having it.  Not one damn bit of it.

And I'm better now and will go back in and rub her head and hope to all that is sacred in the universe that she is calm.

If not, I'll rock her.  Because I give.  Tonight.   Tomorrow will be better. 

I will read this tomorrow and cringe but it will remind me that I have A LOT to learn about being a decent mom.  In fact, I will once again state the mantra that gets me by day to day:

I may think I know nothing but in fact, I know even less than that.  Happy happy thoughts and clenched clenched teeth.  And I love my bebes.

Love love love phew......

quick edit:  when I said 'had you told me' I should have stated 'Again'.  For this will be how many-ith times we've done sleep training?  I had always heard that one has to do this several times throughout toddler hood, etc. but again.....smirk smirk smirk.  No need to slap that look off my face, it is soooo gone.

ClearBlue Easy

<><>

Pee in space I am just gonna say this......I only wish I could watch the scowl on Earl's face when he sees this. Gawd! I'm not saying guys always get the cool commercials but, ya know. So this is my one uppance. They love me, they truly do. quick edit: No, not pregnant, I've been neutered.  Or is it spayed?  One thing's for sure - the factory is Closed for Business.

You can call me diddy

                                             

• budget       -      updated
• bebes        -      sleep training*
• apartment   -    clean but not cleaaann...know what I mean?
• dinner        -      small victory for the "just one bite bebe and I promise you may have a hotdog".  She bought it. 
• weather      -     all right, who pissed off mother nature?!  73 yesterday, 50 degrees today.   Gawd d@mn climate change. 
• the weekend  -  leaving that for a post later this week.  two words - fuck me.
• in-laws         -    see above.  repeat the last.  oh, it will be written.
• sleep          -    sleep eludes me.  more so, I am fighting it.  I am brillant no?

I'll write later as this is the post that every blog has that is written to state, "eh, I've got nothing".   Oh but I do, I do have stuff to write, just not now.  Eh.

*sleep training will be the topic of discussion in the weekend and in-laws summary.  needles to say, it's going much better than anticipated.  40 min. tonight and they were down. 

         

The grease we need

Tinker, tinker *fidget*  *no,nope,ok maybe that's a little too ghetto*

Blog isn't under heavy construction but items are being tweaked around here in order to preoccupy myself during the lull of silence accompanying bebe bedtime.  Amongst other things, the tag line is the biggest, but not the worst, of changes.  The worst being the Technorati tag that eats space on my sidebar like a "langolier".  It's freekin Huge and not in an attractive 62" TV kinda way.  So yeah, sorry about the glare.

I wish there were some grandiose reason behind the wee tiiihne tag line - something that speaks volumes and makes people reading scrunch their foreheads in contemplation but alas, this isn't the case.

Quite simply, in addition to the necessary date headings attached to our emails, Earl and I have labeled them.  His is private *I am loved* and mine is a word variation on the above.  Letters from a broad. 

All that boring chit chat aside, the girls and I are outta here this weekend to soak up the effervescence of hundreds of cows meandering the fields near the in-laws.  Hark, I smell the manure - and it was most certainly Not Good. 

The better part of this situation lies in the yard that accompanies the home that houses two very special people in our lives.  The yard - it is green, it is lush, it is open, it is Huge, and most importantly, it has hills.  Mother of baby peter and all that is good.  Bebes tumbling towards us going warp speed, out of control and laughing. The sound of sweet giggles to the sky and  I am happy as a tweedle dee.

Weekend joy to you and yours as I will be around, browsing as usual, but taking a break from the posts for a day or two - is that anything new?

Leaving you with this gem, acquired while shopping at a national Electronic O Warehouse.  Actually, I was putting my receipt away at the register which was manned by a woman around the age of 18 or so. Nothing unusual going on until her manager came over for a quick chat to pass the time.

Cashier:  "hey ____, think someone could help me with the (didn't pay attention to what was wrong).  It's working but it's just not acting right."

Manager: "sure but all you really need to fix it is some elbow grease"

And I swear to gawd people, cashier lady was dead freaking serious saying this......

Cashier: "ok, you got any of that?"

So yep, my head shot up while it took all the willpower I had not to smile like a deranged lunatic.

Manager:  "please tell me you didn't just..." and in what can only be described as motherly kindness, "do you know what that is?"

Cashier:  now looking a little worried that this elbow grease stuff is not what she wants.  "No.  why?"

Manager explains as kindly and quickly as possible.

It lasted less than a minute but that conversation perked me up and greatly aged me.