looks like we're gonna get rained out

for our climbing trip.


chances are good that we sit around all weekend watching porn, instead.

summer camp!

this is the year.

it's gonna happen.

the kid is going to summer camp.


this decreases the possibility that she'll be hanging out all day with hoodlums and start smoking the whacky weed.

I've got three weeks in mind.

two weeks in July for a late-night and adventure camp...and one week in June for Iron Chef.


I'm a little scared about the prospect of her coming home and cooking earthworms...

but, shit.

we gotta eat, right?


I'm telling ya. I'm not gonna wimp out this time.

I mean it.


she's going.


for real.

the meaning of life...and other important things

(like hair straightening, nail polishing and hip-hop music)

my 12 year old threw me for a loop yesterday. as we're straightening her hair (a 2 hour procedure, mind you)...she's lying there philosophizing.

her: "I just...I just think so much."
me: "oh, like what?"
her: "nothing. you'll just think I'm being dumb."
me: "yeah, probably. but I'm curious what you're thinking, anyway."
her: "why?"
me: "cause I wanna know if I'm doing a good job raising you...as evidenced by your innermost thoughts. tell me and we'll see if we gave you the right name" (we're obsessed with names currently and she's a little upset with the "cheerleader" name I gave her)
her: "godddd, mom! it's not even like that!!! see? you don't understand me already!!!"
me: *laughing and pointing at her*
her: "ok. so that was lame. I sound like an afterschool special"

...so we proceded to have our talk.

turns out the child is questioning the existence of god, the nature of religion...and the human condition, for that matter; trying to decide what her goals in life should be (two of her possible options include "adventuring" and "doing good"), and wondering why we react differently to different people who do the same things.

ie. one friend can touch her hand and say something and she'll laugh...and another one will do the same and she'll want to stab her (or, at least I would).

she wonders why people's inherent personalities either fit or don't fit with others.

we got into discussions about basic human needs and nature, and talked at length about mormons (I told her they're bat-shit crazy).

before it was all said and done she suggested we meditate together. amen. hallelujah. I'm sooo tired of her constant attempts to drown out her inner noise with extraneous hip-hop...

SCORE ONE FOR SOME QUIET TIME IN SUKI-LAND

and I told her that these were all good questions that mean she's thinking the right way.

she told me AGAIN that I don't understand (ha! the forces of teenager-dom at work against her own will)...but this time took responsibility for it, herself. she thinks that what we actually talked about was very immature vs. what she's actually thinking, and that she managed to make it all come out sounding very kid-like.

I told her its probably because her thoughts are more complex than her vocabularly (and pointed out that that is probably why ALL 12 year olds sound the way they do)...and told her to read.

SCORE TWO FOR MORE QUIET TIME IN SUKI-LAND

so...when she gets home today and starts blasting music, I'm going to hand her a book and schedule a yoga class.


...and I'm confiscating her stinky nail polishes and body sprays. how can one think with all that smell going on???

kooza!

we're off to see cirque du soleil in a bit.

the reviews...as typical of all cirque shows...are stellar.

it is said that, "Within three hours, it can turn men into boys, children into instant smiles and twinkling eyes."

hoo ha!

I'm down for a little twinkling.


(^that said tWinkling...although tinkling is very probable, as well)

its muh birfday...it..its muh birfday!

no. it's not.

but it certainly FEELS like it.

no. it feels better than muh birfday. it feels like christmas, new years, muh birfday, all saints day and groundhog's day all rolled up into, cause...

yesterday was my very last day of subbing EVAH.

evah, evah, evah. EVAH!

never going back. even if I was allowed (which I'm probably not)...you couldn't pay me (ha! like it paid, anyway) to get back into a classroom with thug nuggets and a-holes.

nEVAH.

yesterday I had the worst kids in the school. 8th graders segregated from the rest of their peers because they are too agressive, assinine and attitude-y to do any work.

and I had them.
in a basement room.
with no windows.
or AC.
for more than an hour.

soooooooooo...long story short: they're fucking lunatics. I'm a fucking lunatic. they lost their shit. I lost mine back. words were exchanged. I scared the shit out of the so-called bad asses (they didn't think a pregnant little white girl had it in her. I showed them)...

and then quit promptly at 3:05.


fuhq. that. shit.

it is NOT worth my blood pressure going out of control.
it is NOT worth losing three hours a sleep every night from stress.
it is NOT worth giving birth to a poor lil innocent babe wrought with stress and anxiety from birth.
it is just not worth it.

when I went to sign out of the building (forever)...the lord(s) was(were) shining upon a suki...

cause I got the opportunity to do the closest thing to quitting a sub could ever do.

pity that the woman who happened to be present for the brunt of my tirade in no way deserved it...but it felt good nonetheless.

I took her a list of names of children I wanted executed...she closed the door and asked me to sit down.

ruh roh.

she STARTED to say that the kids told her I cursed at them...but before she could finish her warning to me I blew my top.

things I remember saying...in no particular order.

YES, I cursed at those bastards!!! they're lucky I didn't throw a chair or chinese star.

I am SO fucking done with this (slammed my badge on the desk)! I tried. I really did. I tried to help. I've been doing this shit job, for shit pay, for over a year now...holding on dearly to the infrequent moments when I actually felt like I was doing something GOOD. like I was getting through to someone.

no more! I'm done.

for the last thirty minutes I looked out at that classroom of babboons and saw nothing but a sea of blood and decapitated bodies. I'm done. I'm leaving before I get arrested.

oh please. LET a parent say something to me. I would LOVE the opportunity to beat one of them unconscious. its their fucking fault. I'm done.

the worst part isn't the disrespect or the assinine attitude. NO. its looking at them and seeing their future. and you know what that is? nothing. absolutely nothing. humans who behave that way have NO future. I'm done.

-------------------------


sooo...I'm done. between an administration that doesn't give a fuck. parents who are either on crack or selling it. students who either can't sit still or have no goal other than to perturb me...

I'm done.

I'm ALMOST tempted, though, to take one final assignment. to go back to the school where the principal flipped on me BECAUSE HIS FUCKING PARKING LOT IS TOO SMALL (and he's a fucking spazz)...

and throw a left hook to his chin.

I've already told him off good and hard...

but slapping him like a bitch would put the cherry, on the sprinkles, on the icing...

on the quitting cake.


I'm done!

thank goodness for the little things.

there are few things in life more excruciatingly boring and torturous than a middle school spring concert (one of the few being an elementary school spring concert. 3rd graders shouldn't be allowed ANYWHERE NEAR a snare drum, violin or piano)...many of which I've had to endure.

this year's concert was made even more dull, bloody tear inducing and uncomfortable than usual by the fact that I'm pregnant...and, owing to such...

angry, miserable and mean.

also nauseous. did I mention nauseous? with hands smelling of freshly chopped onions...

this particular concert almost had an encore performance of suki solo-vomitting.

out of the 300-something kids performing that night...I'm gonna go with 4...MAYBE 5...of them actually having any talent. one girl...voice of an angel. I swear when she opened her mouth to sing it was like listening to disembodied spirits.

happy ones.

her solo lasted all of 18.3 seconds...then it was back to torture.

then there was the orchestra. I...I...I...can't even begin to describe how tremendously awful this group was. out of tune, off tempo, squeaky, horrendous, shrilling noises...that went on forever.

and ever.

and (motherfucking) ever.

the only saving grace of the orchestra's waaaaaaaay too extended time on stage was the conductor's pantylines. I found myself obsessed with this woman's underwear. probably because I could see, through the glory of stage lighting, the outline of her entire set o' drawers. it was almost worth the cost of admission (free) to find 14 minutes of sheer, unadulterated idiocy as I stared at, and subsequently lost my mind in this woman's ass.

when it was the band's turn to torture us...once again, oqui saved my life...or at least kept me out of jail and the headlines...with one simple observation.

every time the girl on percussion dutifully banged her cymbals...her hair flew up in a giant puff.

I've never found myself more enthralled with a musical performance. I broke out in a cold sweat in anticipation of the next crescendo...

all in hopes her hair would go berzerker, again.


ooooh, and it did.

over and over and over and....


I peed myself a little in my fit of uncontrollable laughter. I honestly...

COULD NOT STOP LAUGHING.

a few parents (maybe those of the talented children???) were getting annoyed with my seemingly inappropriate enjoyment of the performance...

but most just giggled, turned away and resigned themselves to 40 more minutes of torture without knowing what was so damn funny.

I cheered like a retard when the final cymbal bash came...

and her hair...was stuck to her forehead.


that may be the closest in history a shitty middle school band has EVER come to a standing ovation.

I am TOTALLY making my kid play percussion, now.

sex makes you fat.

^ proof.

everest...and other mountains

I feel like I've recently climbed them all.

from the numbness in my piggers and fingers, to my inability to breathe (much like I'm at high altitude), to the extent of this exhaustion...

I'm finding it hard to believe I didn't just haul my ass off of a mountain.


if I don't get 12 straight hours in bed (two of which I spend WIIIIIIIDE awake smack dab in the middle of the night)...I'm beat the next day.

my hair has also started falling out in clumps. my nose gets bigger every morning. I can't remember or process ANYTHING (it's kinda fun to watch, I hear. I'm a bit of a moron)...and I'm starting to puff up.

does anyone else remember feeling like this while pregnant? it very well could've happened the first time...and I've blocked it (as a protective mechanism) from my memory.


...but I don't think so.

my aunt texted me a picture taken of me yesterday.


THE HORROR!!!

I look so old. old, old, old. I feel old, too.

did I mention I'm mean?

a male climbing friend told me on Saturday that he's concerned for me. that I'm too full of anger...that I'm carrying a baby and need to relax, to wit I replied...

have you ever been pregnant, you codgey old bastard??? no! huh? you haven't? then what the hell do you know? how 'bout you shut yourself right up.


hahahahah
...thereby proving him right.

so I'm trying to get more rest, starting pre-natal yoga, adding some more protein to my diet and hoping to High Heaven I recover when my estrogen levels drop to something tolerable.

cause...I mean...what would be the point of having this baby if I'm just gonna be all mommy dearest psycho on it, anyway?

not...that that wouldn't be fun for ME...but the kid, well...

the kid probably wouldn't have too much fun with that, I'm thinking.

my bebby's ok

last night I was BEYOND upset. fussed and carried on. voiced the opinion that this pregnancy is (and I quote) "A HUGE FUCKING MISTAKE!!!" and said, "well, then we never should have done this!"

I couldn't visualize anything positive about having another child.

not a thing.

all I saw was burden, responsibility and fear.

then my uterus started to hurt (I had it coming)...

and I started to worry that the sprout (I think I'm sticking with sprout over squirt. it just feels right) decided I was unworthy and was going to make its way on somewhere else.

so I calmed down. I touched my belly and tried to send reassuring vibes. I was still pretty well worked up, so I failed miserably...and my tummy kept hurting right on through the night.

I was afraid with every pee that I would regret those thoughts and words and see blood.


nope. the sprout is fine. insisted on hearing the heartbeat again today...just as a reassurance...

and lo and behold, the lil' feller is still there.


it decided to give me another chance...

and I decided to stop fussing and appreciate what I have.


I also found out that what I suffered from during my first delivery (most of which I don't remember between convulsions and drugged-up-edness) was probably pre-eclampsia.

so that's that. no more stress for me.

none. none. none.

I want to stay low risk and deliver this baby at home (wherever that may be)...

comfortably. securely. safely.


in the scheme of things "losing" a house is no big deal (its not like its being stolen from us...we're just selling it for peanuts)...

losing a baby would be devastating.

my hormones

can go pack sand.

I hate ALMOST everyone today.

good thing I'm not working.

(don't EVEN get me started about the last in a series of viruses I caught from my little dolls at work. NO TREATMENT. self-limiting. NO OPTIONS. I am going to have a 'dermatological condition' for the next 6-18 months (potentially longer since I have a pregnant, compromised immune system) and look like a fucking leper. did I mention NO TREATMENT??? or the little pussy, rashy scabby fucker who sneezed on my lip last week? wonder what ailment that nets me??? what was I saying? oh yeah...I hate almost everyone)

bad thing we can't afford to either sell OR live here. the realtor(s) last night told me with deeply sympathetic looks that I can't even dream about getting $200k for this house (having NOTHING AT ALL to do with my neighbors' front yard looking like a fucking carnival display)

fucking awesome.


so...if anyone has a spare room and wouldn't mind blood stains on your carpet (I'm serious about this stabbing thing)...

hook a suki up.

unfortunate but true

now I have to kill my daughter.

I got a call from one of her teachers that she "just isn't herself."

talking in class, being defiant, trip the principal's office.


yup. she has to die, now.


anyone wanna buy the sprout? if not...I'll just hafta murder it in twelve or thirteen years, anyway.

5 oranges?

we finally got to the grocery store last night to put some food in this house.

I was heavy on the fruits and veggies (not gonna lie. I bought FROZEN veggies. sick of them rotting silently in my fridge), whole grain bread-like items and dairy. can you say cheese-itarian?

oqui was bagging and I was yapping with the cashier when I noticed she put 5 oranges on the scanner.

5 oranges?

no. no, wait a minute. I know he wouldn't buy FIVE oranges.

I dug and dug and dug on the belt and...of course, found the sixth.

*sigh o' relief*

later in the evening (about 20 minutes after we should've been asleep)...I started mumbling about those oranges and launched into a (very sleepy) fruit monologue.

oranges - never three. never five. two, four or six.

apples - minimum four. any less is sacrilige.

pears - multiples of three. perhaps its the bulbous shape that fits so neatly into itself inverted???

bananas - five. three in the back, two up front. if you live in a multiple banana eater household...you can go so high as seven (two in the back, three in the middle, two up front). but never equal numbers of nanners in both rows.

cucumbers - two.

onions- more than four and you need your head examined.

squash and zucchini - three each, yellow and green.

one pineapple. one melon. and one container of either:

-strawberries
-blueberries
-or raspberries

unless you plan on making a fruit tart. then you can buy all three...with prior permission.

so, I'm going on and on and on...not realizing oqui is either awake or not ignoring me when he bursts out laughing.

cackling, really.

I felt a little violated. dood. you're supposed to be asleep. this is MY fruit beta. not for yours, buddy.

still laughing.

when he gets ahold of himself he says that next time he'll pick the produce.

ahhh, I'm thinking. ok. he's finally listening to me about the food thing. trying to get involved. help out.


nope. he says he's going to buy two apples, seven pears, one banana and four melons.


four melons???

w...wwww..well, that's just fucked up.


WHAT THE HELL DO YOU DO WITH FOUR MELONS???


speaking of fruit: I have a (slightly askew) lump in my belly about the size of a grapefruit.

I'm thinking we'll need to rename it. 'the sprout' may no longer do the job.

since we've been referring to it in terms of citrus fruit (oh, look! it's as big as a lime. now it's a lemon...orange...grapefruit...)

perhaps we'll have to start calling it squirt.



in other other other news:

I climbed outside this weekend. my regular harness is officially being retired until post-baby. I'm ordering a full body harness (hundred and twenty bucks!!!).

we got there late, so all the 'warm up ropes' were long gone. I ended up warming up on a 10.b. not too shabby, actually.

I'm still strong (believe it or not) and could crank all the moves. I just needed to clip into every damn bolt and let my heart rate drop from about 3,000 before moving on.

I did a 9/10 and alot of sitting...and called it a day. my harness was just too sketchy squeezing on the sprout/squirt.

felt GOOOOOD to be out, though.

magical, really.

I figure I'll get at least two months...maybe three outta that expensive harness...

and maybe stop moping for a little while.


wouldn't that be nice? :-d

oh yeah...

and I still hate meat, am eating too much soy (linked to birth defects. that's gotta stop), and can pee on command (particularly since I have to pee all the time).

I took 1 (one) prenatal vit...and vetoed that plan again for a while. they suck.

but most importantly of all...

my mother is taking the kid for the weekend and teaching her to cook. this on the heels of my mom's internet research on the effects of soy...and my continued insistence that I can NOT touch meat to cook it.

she's sending her home with casseroles. lots of them.

I absolutely flipped my lid earlier this week when both the kid and the man were too busy to help me cook. so there I was, touching ground beef (blecht) and fuming like a lunatic.

I made a gorgeous fresh meal and took a plate out back by myself to eat without a word to either of them.

when they joined me...I left. then I took the dogs out for a nice long walk (also without a word to either of them) and finally calmed down.

they concluded while I was gone that I was very upset (no shit), needed more help from them, and would probably calm down later.

right on all counts but the last.

if someone doesn't start cooking around here...

they're all going to starve.

I've got it.

she needs to get laid.

she's about mid-50's.
slightly chubby.
mean as fuck.
wears lots of loud colors and cheap sandals.
sports the styling head scarf of her native land.
pretends she doesn't speak english when she's being tricky.

and really needs a good banging.

any takers?


(don't tempt me to post a pic...cause I just might do it)


in other news:

exhaustion does not begin to describe how I've felt this week. three full days (my full days end at 3:00pm, btw) was ALOT. I was dragging my bum by wednesday afternoon.

by thursday. asleep at the wheel. I feel asleep whenever:

a. the kids got quiet (they didn't)
b. they left the room (they did)
c. noone was looking

I slept 11 hours wed night and another 13 or so yesterday including naps.

but, as my mother said...I better get as much as I can now, because in a few months...I'll be too uncomfortable to sleep at all...and that'll go on for about a year and a half (til I have and wean the kid).

so I'm stocking up, now.

I'm also stocking up on maternity clothes. I'm addicted. I keep bidding on e-bay lots and ordering stuff on-line. yet I DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH!!! (particularly since half the e-bay stuff doesn't fit)

the fact that I'm going to be gigantic makes me want to play dress up for the next six months.

speaking of gigantic...

yesterday I looked HUGE.

11 weeks :( I thought I was 12) in and I was enormous. today...

it's gone.

day before yesterday...huge.

not to mention that the sprout is located entirely on my left side. my right side is getting jealous and hurts when I sneeze.

the nurses and midwives don't seem to think this is a problem...but agree that it really is WEIRD.

and there ya have it.

my kid is a weird radical leftist in the womb.

too much anger for one human being

my neighbor is the nexis of evil.

NOONE likes her...not even her own family.

come to think of it...ESPECIALLY her own family. the police despise them. the neighborhood is ready to evict them...

and she, for whatever reason, has chosen me as her arch enemy. I was on the balcony with the dogs this afternoon and she snarled at me. she actually and audibly snarled.

I had no choice but to chuckle in her face.

she has no idea. no 50-something, scarf wearing, loud-mouth scares ME, bitch. you've obviously never met my mother.

yesterday afternoon we so kindly put all of her garbage back behind HER shed (I was tempted to move their damn toilet over there, too...but was rife to touch it) and took a nice picture or two of all the matching garbage shoved into THEIR trashcans (slick, aren't they?)

and they told the cops it wasn't their stuff!

hardy.har.(I hate you)har.

they are, at this moment cleaning up their yard. I am HOPING TO GOODNESS they put something on our property, again...

cause this time its going back upside one of their domes.




we are so incredibly done with this shit.