9 minutes

I have 9 minutes to verbally bring forth all the stuff in my head.  ready... set...

GO!

 

Grandpa died today.  I'll be going to the funeral alone.  I will be a pall barer. Yes, you read correctly,  I was also a pall barer for my grandmother.  Messed up family, I'm here to tell you.  But I do have to say, there is some healing involved with laying a loved one in the ground.  I'm glad that my hands will be some of the last responsible for Vernon.

 

There's a part of me that is pissed of with B for not attending the funeral with me.  After all, I'm the one grieving here -- doesn't seem hardly fair that I'll be driving 7 hours (give or take) to attend the funeral of my grandfather alone only to have to drive back alone, too.  But, you know, maybe I need that time.  I believe I do.  I can hang with him wanting to comfort me by allowing me to know that my children are safe.... still, I wish he were there with me.  He's done so much for me from here, though. Left me with cash, returned with bourbon.  Taking care of the kids to let me have my one day / night of getting ripped all to hell and saying FUCK IT to the rest.  I'm sure that, when I return from the funeral, the house will be clean, the laundry will be done, there will be a large treat in the garage waiting for me along with a stiff drink and a nice little pick me up that only my husband can provide me.  Heh heh heh.

 

 

The birth.  Crap on a cracker, I haven't written about the birth.  I don't know that I"m going to.  It was a horrendously long and complicated birth, but my client did all that she could and I learned a lot about the human spirit.  And for the first time, I issued the very words that changed my life 5 years ago, "There comes a time when you have to decide to take the power.  You can either decide for yourself to have the surgery, or you can wait for your physician to decide for you.  Where will you find the most empowerment?"  Baby girl born at 6:51 pm, nearly 39 hours from the onset of labor, via cesarean section.  Mom and baby and dad and doula all doing well.

 

1 minute

 

I want sushi.  I really want sushi.  I cannot afford sushi AND a trip out of state for the funeral.  DAMMIT.

 

Someone start saving bail money --- I might have to kidnap a sushi dude and take him to KS with me.  Oy!

Vernon Robert Wells

June 20, 1925 - May 31, 2007

Rest in Peace

Just live that life. It doesn't matter whether it is life or hell, life of the hungry ghost, life of the animal, it's okay; just live that life, see. And as a matter of fact no other way. Where you stand, where you are, that's what your life is right there, regardless of how painful it is or how enjoyable it is. That's what it is.- Taizan Maezumi

Brain spewage

It's a day of uncertainty.  When I'm uncertain, my brain goes on overdrive.  I'm just gonna spill it all here.

 

So here's the deal with being a birth professional - time is wonky.  For example, in most other jobs, you know when you will be going to work, *where* you're going to work, how long you'll be there.  Not when you're a birth professional.  Not at all.  Right now I know my client is in early labor.  Good enough.  I know that eventually she'll be birthing at a hospital about 25 minutes away.  Check.  I know that at some point, I'll be joining her somewhere.  Right on.  But I don't know when (an hour from now? 6 hours?  12??) and I don't know where (her house first?  or straight to the hospital?)  and I most certainly don't know how long I'll be with her.  I might climb into my own bed to sleep tonight --- or I might not get to climb into my own bed to sleep until tomorrow night.  No one knows. 

 

It's as if time somewhat stops when that phone rings and I hear, "I think this is it!!"  Time doesn't matter at that point because, frankly, I'm on someone else's watch.  Sure, I can still go about my daily grind, but always in the back of my mind I'm looking for the quick exit, the best parking place that will allow me to leave easily, etc.  I don't know when anything is going to happen -- it's part of the nature of the game.

 

I wish other folks would get that.  Namely my husband.  Now, B is a great man and he is incredibly supportive.  He loves what I do and knows I'm damned good at it and that I love it (talk to me at 3am tomorrow and ask if I still like it .. oy!)  B has always encouraged me to do whatever I want whenever I want and that's just fantastic.  But good grief, I don't understand why he doesn't realize by now, several several years and countless births into it, that I don't know when I'm leaving and I don't know when I'll be home.  I usually just say, "By Thursday" and leave it at that.

 

Hank barks now.  All the time.  Not at strangers or noises very much (although he does do that,) but he barks to talk to us.  It's unreal.  He comes up to us and does that doggie howl and we all join in unison with him, but then he decides to bark when he's really serious.  I can handle it.  The boys love it.  It's loud and it does hurt my ears if he's close, but good night, Hank is just a talker.  B, however, does NOT dig this.  It's highly entertaining to me to watch B cringe and freak at the barking while the boys and I continue on our party line chat with the dog.  Ruff Ruff, baby.  Ruff Ruff.

 

JM Bill is camping this weekend where there are lions and leopards.  I wanna be there with her.

 

Speaking of Africa, I've been letting the boys watch Roots with me.  It's heavy and hard at times and we have to stop the movie every 10 minutes or so I can answer their questions and such.  It's a 12 hr film, so it's going to take us a long time to get through it.  That's fine -- it certainly took long enough to live.  It's interesting to watch the boys experience the trauma and horrific nature of our history.  It's sad to watch that reality cross their little faces, but it's also so wonderful to see that they instantly understand the grave injustice of it, that it's NOT right, that it makes no sense.  It's a deep pleasure to see the look in their face that says so clearly, "Never again.  Never to another soul of any color, creed, race, religion, sexual orientation, political affiliation, etc.  NEVER AGAIN."  It's kind of like when Duck was mortified to see how eggs are collected on commercial farms and vow that he would only eat free range eggs.  It's a proud moment for me, a proud moment as a parent.

 

JP and her clan is out of school for the summer.  YAY!!!!  This year should be interesting.  Her youngest, D, is terrified of dogs.  Just terrified of dogs.  No matter what size or breed they are, this little "Ima get you sucka" girl is scared of dogs ... and we have Hank.  Hank who is enormous and loud.  Hank who is nothing but a gigantic marshmallow but looks and sounds like a vicious beast.  Hank who brings me my slippers and will kiss you stupid for peanut butter.  He's awesome, but she won't be able to tell 'cause the poor love will be too scared to find out.  Guess we'll be visiting them a lot this summer instead of them coming up here.  Lovely.

 

I'm messing with my blog layout and such.  Expect random changes.  Ha.  Good lesson for life, eh?

 

Stealth has decided that he's going to be a video / computer game wizard.  He's well on his way.

 

Oh there's the phone ....

 

Phone wars, Round 1

Has been officially won by my client.

The phone rang this morning at 7.

Contractions started at 4 am.

In her back.

 

Oy.

 

It's gonna be a long one, folks.

 

 

 

To the leader of BU

Since my girl, DDFF, cannot rightly express herself as much as she wants at the moment, I'm sending my boyfriend to do the job for her.

Standing in the Correction Corner

I stand corrected -- turns out I DO like the random chit chat --- if it comes from the right people.

 

The homeschool picnic was wonderful - a zillion kids playing in the rain, good talks with the Mamas.

 

I believe it's time to re-invest in our homeschool group.  There were not many kids Duck and Stealth's age last year (or in years past,) but this year, there seems to be an abundance!  Watching my two boys play with 4 other homeschooled boys their age was *wonderful!*

 

Contrary to popular belief, I really love it when I'm wrong. 

 

After all, it happens so rarely.

Blogarhythms

I need to get in the shower.  There's a homeschool picnic sort of thing this afternoon and, while I'm not really excited about going, I know it will be good for Duck and Stealth.  I just really dislike the whole chit chat crap that goes on with parents at things like this.  It's what I've always disliked about playdates with random kids or birthday parties where the whole clan has to sit around and talk about Johnny's progress in multiplication or Suzie's newest science experience or Mack's latest discovery of the pleasure of eating boogers.  WHO CARES?

 

I've recently discovered that this tragic need to "talk to the parents" also bleeds into the dog park.  Doggie parents, or at least some of them, feel the need to have lengthy and personal conversations with the other doggie parents at the dog park.  Why?  Yes, I know we all love our dogs and believe me, it's no stretch to get me to talk about Hank for hours on end, but really?  Really?  Really do you need to come running to me and my children and my dog when we walk into the leash free area and start talking to me about your niece and your other dogs and life on the farm as if a) I know you, and b) we're best friends, and c) I care?  I understand the desire to be social, I do.  Believe me, I'm a social person and love to hang as much as the next gal, but honestly?  When I throw a stick into the lake for Hank to chase and I go to the *other* side of the lake while he swims, PLEASE do not follow me.  If I have my kids with me, I will talk to you so they don't witness me being rude.  But if I'm by myself, folks, read and learn - I'm interested in 3 things : My dog, my i-Pod, and myself.  The end.  Unless the Great Pyrenees pair are there (or the Great Dane (Hey Raleigh!  Hey Chester!  Hey Rexie!,) I'm pretty much gonna keep to myself.  Thanks.

 

And while we're on the topic of dog parks, let me just say this right here -- If your dog is not social, do NOT bring her into the leash free area and then accost the other dog owners if our dogs make your dog nervous!  Dogs are pack animals and it is part of their nature, indeed an essential part of their nature, to check out other dogs and figure out who's the alpha, etc.  That means that some dogs bark, some dogs growl, some dogs go a little bonkers.  This is normal and fine.  If you'll watch, most dogs who do this are doing so with their tails wagging and smiling the whole time.  This is social and normal and important and, if you just chill the hell out and quit making your dog nervous yourself, they will be fine.  Let the dogs do the dog thing and in minutes, they'll be swimming and running and loving each other like they were all dipped in chicken treats.   If you know, in advance, that your dog doesn't dig well with others, DON'T BRING THEM INTO THE LEASH FREE DOG PARK.   This is just common sense.  If you don't get this, folks, you don't even deserve to have a dog.

 

I've learned that it's best to let stupid people be stupid and crazy people be crazy because they'll both take you down with them if you try to, even for a second, get them out of being stupid and crazy.  Stupid and crazy never change -- they just add to their numbers.

 

I'm in the middle of this sick and twisted waiting game with my phone.  I'm waiting for the phone to ring.  Could be either a) my client's birth, b) my grandfather's death, or c) my FIL trying to resolve things with me after he fucked up horribly last week and I made him cry as a result of his actions.  Anyone care to guess which one I'm hoping for?  When you figure it out, let me know.

 

DDFF, class tonight?  No?  I know you have the show .....

 

B is the best husband ever.  The end.  Flowers twice this week, a gorgeous card that made me cry, he took the kids on a bike ride AND played with Hank AND is sending me paint shopping. Love him.

 

I need a new dress.  Or a few.

 

My friend, D is marrying E this weekend in Boise.  Lots of my girlfriends are gonna be there.  Love you, ladies.  Rock the Casbah for me.  And whew!  Another game of "I never..." that I don't have to confess to .....

 

Must. Go. Camping.  I'm thinking Tuesday ...

 

 

 

Translation

 Libertas et natale solum.

 

Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em.

 

-- Jonathan Swift

Aint it the truth?

About the time we can make ends meet, somebody moves the ends.  

 

 

 

 -- Herbert Hoover

Well, I've done that now, time to move on

So yesterday I wrote the poor, woe is me post about everything that is wrong with my life and how I wanted to fix it all with booze.

 

And last night I did take care of it, for the time being, with beer.

 

And now I've done that and don't need to do it again.

 

With every crisis, I take one day to just lose it and be irresponsible.  Just one day.  Sometimes I choose the day.  Sometimes the day chooses me.  Yesterday, it chose me.

 

But today is a new day.  I feel like I've emptied all the gnarlies out and can start building on the intelligence and down to earth nature of myself that has kept me out of the shit pile for over 30 years.

 

So bring it, suckas.  I can handle life and all it's creepie crawlies.

 

Just be sure to bring some Ibuprofen along with you.

 

GAME ON!!!

sometimes things just suck ass

Remember when we were younger?  Remember when we could have some sort of crisis and deal with it at a bar, tits out, tabs paid for?

 

Things ain't the same these days.

 

I'm 31, married, mother of two, friend to zillions, enemy of some (I don't even care enough bout them to count.)  I'm a professional, a business owner (two times over, thankyouverymuch,) an artist, a trainer, a master craftswoman, a joke teller, a drink maker, a midnight toker, baby.

 

But sometimes I wanna be that 19 year old who folks take care of.

 

I'm having a hard time.  There's a lot of stress and loss in my family(s) right now.  Everyone expects me to hold it together --- after all, I've held it together for 31 years thus far.

 

My grandfather is dying.

 

My friend wants to be a mother but she cannot let go of her conscious enough to listen to her heart.

 

My budget wants to spend itself on fine shoes, lovely skirts, and beer, but I feel obligated to buy semi-gloss paint and ceramic tile.

 

I feel guilty about my grandmother's death oh so many years ago. ... enough guilt that I'm sure I'll fuck up my grandfather's death.  That is why I choose to remain here instead of visiting.

 

My husband loves me and trusts me, but thinks I should deal with my grief sober.  What he doesn't realize is that I deal with it all sober and head on for 18 hrs of the day and I only look to get obliterated during the 8 hrs that he's home.  That, to me, is responsible.

 

Lily Allen said it all ....

 

Oh yeah, I'm fine,
Everything's just wonderful,
I'm having the time of my life.

Don't you want something else

 

 

 

 

Vernon, Part II

Last year, I wrote this post about my grandfather, Vernon.

 

I found out today that he is going downhill quite fast.  They will be moving him to hospice care and putting him on morphine.

 

He could have "12 minutes, 12 hours, 12 days, 12 weeks ...."

 

If you have some extra energy, send it his way.  I don't want him to suffer.

Warts, anyone?

zzzzzzzz, a few words, zzzzzzzzzzzz, sushi

I'm sooooooo damned tired.  So tired.  And I cannot sleep.  Well, I fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow ... and then I'm up a zillion and twelve times during the night and wake up, wide awake, so freaking early.  This morning, I actually slept in ... until 6 am, if that tells you anything.  EARLY, I'm telling you.  I just want to sleep.  For a few months.  Uninterrupted.

 

To whomever has snagged my good, new, white t-shirt ----  GIVE IT BACK.  It's been gone for a few weeks now and I'm about ready to freak the hell out. 

 

I'm contemplating taking on a client for free or a very reduced rate.  I haven't done that in years and years and years, but my goodness, I like these people so much and they sacrificed their doula money to have a homebirth (excellent choice, btw!!,) I might just do it for the sheer joy of it all.  Trying to figure out what I want to do about this situation ......  They have offered to barter with me, but to be honest, all the things they offer are things I'm skilled at (didn't I tell you they were so cool?!?!?!) 

 

I find myself being very hungry and yet nothing, absolutely nothing, sounds good to eat.  Ever.

 

I wanna take a bath, but I'm afraid I'll fall asleep and drown.

 

There is a new subdivision in my neighborhood - and another coming in, too.  Now, I'm not a big fan of development, but it does give me a wonderful place to walk the dog and hang with the kids and let them ride bikes and such.  Eh, perhaps urban sprawl isn't all bad.

 

Sushi.  Sushi sounds freaking fantastic!!  But it's totally across town, I'm outta gas, and I'm boycotting gas stations today.  I wonder if the sushi dudes deliver?  California rolls, take me away!!!

 

 

 

B and Hank at Bear Creek

Mother's Day, Shopping Bulemia, and Beer

So the 3 day weekend was glorious!  I'm not going to get into too much detail, but I did almost everything I wanted / needed to do.  The only things left out were mopping the floor and laundry - and who the hell wants to do that stuff anyhow?

 

I found out that my new favorite place in the whole wide world is even cooler than I imagined.  Bear Creek Trail goes from the NE corner of our town all the way to the NW side (for you locals -Blue Ridge to Cosmo!!)  Saturday I took Hank to the doggie park to play and then to walk on the trail and I ended up a few miles away across town!  Who knew?1?!?!?!  Along the way, we crossed bridges and boardwalks, shaded areas, beautiful sunny meadows, wetlands, woods, and, of course, Bear Creek.  It was so wonderful that I took B there with Hank on Saturday night.  Pictures to come ....

 

Yesterday found me walking Hank before 7 am.  I cannot sleep.  I just don't sleep well anymore, so walking is just as good.  There's something amazing about a cool, quiet morning, walking my dog and listening to Erzulie.  Made it home and gave Hank a bath before 9. 

 

I spent the rest of Sunday shopping** and trying on a zillion bras - bought a couple!  I also spent quite a bit of time yesterday giving a woman in my life a proper bra fitting.  The woman was wearing a bra 2 cup sizes too small!!  LADIES, I'm telling you, GET FITTED FOR A BRA!!!!!    She looks 20 lbs lighter and 10 years younger and let me tell you, her girls are finally saluting the sun instead of doing Downward Dog!!!  Nest in line for my bra intervention - my MIL!!  I'm going to revolutionize the world, one tit at a time.

 

I realize that I could just as easily (and happily) spend hundreds of dollars on my dog as I can myself because after I splurged on myself, I nearly bought him every bone and chew and toy imaginable and then (today) I bought him some new clothes, too!    (I'm a huge huge huge advocate for the use of adjustable harnesses for dogs as opposed to collars and have been for years - especially big dogs who can escape collars or who are prone to pulling on the lead.  Wanna know more? Ask me!)

 

**When B asked me what I wanted for MD, I told him, "Cash!"  And of course, he thought I was joking.  It took him overhearing me telling 2 girlfriends, my mother, and my MIL before he realized that I just wanted to go shopping!  He was amazingly thrilled to not have to go shopping for me, thus gifting me with a rather nice wad of cash.  I'm telling you ladies, try it - it works!!

 

So along with the shopping came my usual disorder - shopping bulimia.  B diagnosed me with this disorder several months ago and I have to say, he's quite the diagnostician -- he's right on.  I buy all kinds of things - and then return 90% of it all.  It's true!  Yesterday I bought and returned 3 bras, 2 shirts, and two pair of shorts --- all within an hour.  But the thing is ... I found it all cheaper at another store, so I bought it from the other store and then returned it all to the first!  HEY - I saved $5 that way!  This morning, I went to Petco to get a good harness for Hank and I got him another bone (I know, I have issues.)  I left the store (after dropping a rather large sum of money on a 4 legged fur face,) and went to another store ... only to find the exact same harness at 1/2 the price!  So I went back to Petco and returned the bone and harness I had just purchased 15 minutes earlier.  I do this kind of thing all the time and it drives B insane.  But I'm here to tell you -- I saved $32 doing that!  And that $32 is going to buy me some sushi at some point and it already bought me some ...

 

Beer.

 

I love beer.  I really love beer. Well, I really love this beer.  Good night Irene, I love that beer.  It's tasty and dark and, well, it's just that good.  I see it all the time, on TV, in photos from around the states, etc.  Never the name, just the distinctive yellow labels and I have to scream out "GIMME A SHINER!"  Fortunately, no one has attempted to honor this request by punching me in the eye yet, but I suppose it might happen sometime. No biggie -I'll just put some beer on it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Puppy Play Date

Lookie there, best friends!

Piper and Hank
Sitting in the Mud
Getting all brown like a big Milk Dud
First comes treats
Then comes ball
Watch out next
It's a Free For All!!!

RUN, don't walk

to your favorite place and get yourself some Ray LaMontagne.  Consider it a life or death situation - after hearing it once, you'll never want to live without it again.  Period.

 

 

Thoughts on a Thursday

Because I haven't thrown in any random posts in awhile, here we go in no random order -

It's about to storm. Or so it looks. Now, having said that, it's looked like this off and on for days. Normally, this wouldn't bother me much, but I have to decide - do I take the dog on our afternoon mile walk or do I somehow manage to wear him out playing fetch and catch and hide and seek?

Speaking of Hank - he's amazing. I know you all are going to get so sick of hearing about Hank and seeing pictures of Hank and all that. Kind of like I'm showing off pictures of my newborn --- but I'm telling you all in advance, it's going to be WAAAAAAAAAAY worse than having a newborn 'cause I've always liked dogs more than people. So either puppy up or find someone else to read.

It's Thursday which means that The Office comes on tonight. This show is my hands down favorite TV show and B manages to remember that and not let our kids interrupt me during that time. It makes me howl -- and I like that stupid people don't get it. That's the beauty of irony and dry humor --- it's a built in IQ test.

Did I mention that I have a wonder dog? Let me tell you how cool he is. Today we went to the doggy park (well, okay, we've gone every morning thus far....) and of course, Hank decided to go swimming. And the boys and I decided that he's much too advanced to simply swim, he must swim and fetch. So I started throwing tennis balls into the lake one at a time and he would jump in, swim out to them, fetch them, swim back, and drop them at my feet. At one point, one of the boys threw the second tennis ball out into the lake while Hank was already swimming out to get one. Check it out - my dog not only fetched the one that I threw for him, he swam behind the other ball, batting it with his front paws as he swam, until it reached the bank. He got out of the lake, dropped the ball in his mouth at my feet and then grabbed the one that he had guided to shore and dropped that one in my hand!!!!!!!!!!! I'm telling you folks, Hank is OUTSTANDING! Hell, I'm not that smart! (Okay, this is a phone picture and it is NOT of him doing the two ball trick, but you know, it's pretty darn cute anyhow - note tennis ball in mouth!)

Tomorrow is Friday, the start of a lovely 3 day weekend for me. My inlaws are grabbing the kidlets around noon tomorrow and I'll get them back sometime late in the afternoon Sunday. Ahhhhhhh. I love my kids, I really really do, but I love them even more when they've been gone for awhile and I've had the opportunity to have a few drinks, get laid several times, do some shopping, hang with the dog, sleep in, clean a house and have it stay clean, listen to Kid Rock very loudly in the living room, say "FUCK" whenever I want, and then to balance things out, do tons of yoga and meditation --- before getting back to the sex and cussing, of course.

Hank has at least one playdate this weekend with DDFF's baby girl, Piper, a German Shepherd whom I love to bits (and Piperella is quite fond of me, too.) I'm hoping that she becomes a little more social and can hang with Hank and be good pals. It's possible that we might also get together with K & L's three labs, Huba, LuLu, and Tea (pronounced Tay-uh.) FUUUUUUUUN!!!

My ex-husband is on Myspace and we're on each other's friends lists. It's cool and all - I mean, we were just kids when the shit went down between us. But it's just kind of strange to read his bulletins or messages or whatnot and see things that are very clear references to me - and they are very kind references. He's a good egg, that one. I mean, he's really harmless and honestly deserves a good woman --- but a woman needs a man and he's still just a boy.......

B is smoking again. He's terribly ashamed of it. I have to say, I'm stunned. I've never seen him be unable to beat anything before. Eh, well. That's one monkey that is not on my back - thank you Elvis. But I do have to say, when he brings home O'Doul's Amber and then lights a smoke, I want to scream out, "HEY, Buster, if you're smoking, I'm drinking! Get me a Shiner Bock before I shove that Winston Light up your freaking nose!" Perhaps I'll save that for this long weekend when I can stand naked behind the locked screen door and not let him in until he goes to the liquor store and returns with something appropriate for me to drink.

Ahhhhhhhhh and there's the rain ....

Lily Allen. Love her. I know she's getting tons of play right now and folks are pissy about her cancelling her US tour. I say RIGHT ON!! I love cancelling plans.

My poor nephew is having tons of tummy problems. While it's probably 99.9% genetic, I'm still convinced it's because they put him on formula at 2 weeks of age. I know I know I know - I don't want to hear it, I don't care, I know your sermon already, I've heard it all before and let me tell you, keep preaching it until you're blue in the face - you're still wrong (check the scientific evidence, if you're in doubt.) I'm sure I've offended many of you - and I don't care.. This is my blog, dammit, and I can say whatever I freaking want to and I'm saying it - bottle feeding your baby because of convenience reasons is not the best thing for your baby. I'm a breastfeeding Nazi and I know it. Feel free to disagree with me, I'm well aware that zillions of babies have survived on formula. Note, I said survived. Seeing that baby drinking formula? I might as well be watching someone feeding him cheese whiz. VOM. IT. Of course I don't tell my SIL or BIL this - it's their child, their choice. I respect their right to choose. My tongue is just all bloody from biting it so damned hard.

Duck has just informed me that everyone is perfect except for strangers. Guess I only know strangers.

I have two children up for grabs. Anyone who wants them is free to take them. Today, I have had enough. Come on Noon tomorrow.
Elvis, grant the courage to change the things I can, the grace to accept the things I cannot, and the strength to bitch slap some sense into all those idiots who ruin it for the rest of us.

VICTORY

Sweet mother of purl, B found KONG!!

 

As you were ....