resolve

I don't normally do resolutions. I think I stopped that particularly annoying habit somewhere around my 16th or 17th year at which point I realized:

hey, it's kinda ghey to only focus on self-improvement for the first 3-6 (depending on your motivation level) weeks of the year and let the rest go to pot.

my resolutions usually come about (in one way, SHAPE, or form) round about the time it gets too warm for pants.

I take one look at my (perpetually) chubby white thighs and start thinking fitness. I usually drop 5 or 10 pounds with the warmer weather, increase my general activity level (it's easier to climb withOUT ice) and go about my merry business until the dark starts creeping back in before my climbing partner gets off of work...then general malaise inevitably seeps in.

such it is.

HOWEVER, since I seem to be stuck in a general state of malaise for the last year and half or so...I gotta switch some shit up.

pregnancy and breastfeeding (particularly both at the same time) have REALLY sapped my energy and cramped my damn style. without climbing, riding, skiing and general romping about on a consistent basis...

I have turned into one downright ornery and nasty BIOTCH.

in my defense, however...I WAS looking at this providing undivided attention to a small child thing as a relatively temporary situation. The Prof is getting older, I was starting to get excited about school, job, training, etc...ie. getting some "me" time, again...

when, lo and behold, our dumbasses got knocked up, again.

plan B. I see now that I have GOT to find a way to "stabilize my mood" without the full commitment to going ballzout that I used to be able to give it.

in other words...at 32 years of age...I must learn to juggle.

so juggle, I will (well, at least I'll TRY once I stop hacking up a lung).

thusly and therefore, I've decided to make some life-changing, sanity-saving (recovering?) resolutions:

1. I will make The Prof's food BEFORE he wakes up as often as possible. the lil bastard is unbearable when hungry, and he's obviously STARVED the moment he awakes. sooo...to avoiding wanting to puncture his dome...momma's gonna freeze some veggies, stock up on frozen waffles and stick some food in the lil shit's mouth the second he gets up. buys me some "thinking time" and def improve our relationship (can you tell I just fought my way through lunch with the little ingrate?)

2. step away from the devil's box. the happiest years of my life were those WITHOUT cable. other than the toddler music channel and the nursery rhyme videos...I can totally live without it. it is pointless, time consuming and makes me hate my life (guilt, guilt, guilt). I'm gonna craigslist some kid videos (COMPLETELY NECESSARY DON'T YOU DARE JUDGE ME!!!) and tell comcast to suck one. oqui will very likely have an anneurism, but his lazy ass hasn't taken the trash out in 10 days...so as far as I'm concerned, he has no acceptable argument here.

3. do something creative....nuff said.

4. do something physical. last weekend we hit the climbing gym and, not gonna lie here, my harness HURT. I know some women climb until they're 8cm dilated...but I'm obviously not that chick. with my history of early contractions, bleeding and generally being a pussy while I'm pregnant, I'm gonna need something a little more appropriate. I hate yoga...so I'm still ISO my perfect exercise. I used to walk a good 2 hours a day (the Prof, fortunately for me, LOVED his stroller) which was great for shedding the last 5 or so baby pounds...but didn't do shite for the now non-existant back muscles. since I haven't so much as walked around the block in 4 months (did I mention how much I HATE being pregnant?)...a little stroll to the park in the witch's tit cold is definitely a start...unfulfilling...but it'll be a start. I'm also, for some strange reason, feeling the tap dance vibe...but don't hold your breath on that one.

5. do something educational. I want to learn a new skill. I'm thinking lampwork (ie. flame and glass sculpting) or maybe the ukulele. whatever it is...I want it to be novel and fun.

6. do something productive. job, maybe? I know that's aiming high. I didn't sleep more than 45 minutes straight after the Prof was born and I can't imagine my odds improving with TWO leeches to contend with, but...optimistically speaking...I can at least prep and plan for an EVENTUAL return to the work force. perhaps research real estate? do some computer classwork? work on honing my resume lies? either way...I'm too sexy to spend the rest of my days knee deep in baby poo...so I'll at the very least do some serious thinking about my options.

7. start a garden. no excuses. I come from farmer stock. there is no reason on this planet I should not be planting, tending, harvesting and canning my own food. I intend to cut my trips to the grocery store in half. I'll regret this come august when I refuse to leave the house for anything other than a midnight stroll to the freezer section of the supermarket...but, it shall be done, nonetheless. I'll just have to weed by candlelight.

8. regain my personal sense of style. the fact that my entire wardrobe is "functional" is no longer acceptable. there will be stripes, possibly glitter and some pink shoes.

9. more campfires, sunsets and gurgling mountain brooks. ahhh. that's the stuff.

10. do at least one thing (good book, warm bath, red toe nails, etc)...one single, solitary, special thing for myself every single damn day.

no point in letting the sprouts COMPLETELY suck my soul out, right?

11. take more pictures. this baby is wicked cute. just in case he grows up fugly...I should document the cutitude now. just saying.

besides...nothing funnier than looking back on the drunken saki pics (hotdog, anyone) oqui and I used to take. *meow*

12. start living up to at least 10 or 11% of my potential. I'm wicked smart, yo.

and finally...

13. find some motivation to do a few of the things (big and small) that I dream. this will probably involve caffeine...and I'm ok with that.


I'll keep y'all posted on how well this actually goes.

-account inactive-

my mom read my blog last night. she said it was "funny."

I vaguely remember being funny...

I shall try to blog again, someday...maybe even today.


...but, after a nap.


a lonnnnnnng nap.


...and maybe a quick trip to the ER.


...and some mashed potatoes with yellow gravy.



...maybe then I'll blog.

I'd like mine with a side of anti-emetic, please

Happy Pukesgiving!

big strong men and a moving van

foot down.

we're not buying this house. should the heavens open up, angels drift forth and hand me an incredibly large sum of cash to be used only for the purchase of this property...

I'd say no.

TOO.MUCH.WORK.

I've had the shit (and vomit) kicked out of me for the last two...or more, I can't remember...months and DO NOT FEEL like ripping out a kitchen, replacing a bathroom, putting in a new furnace or having the trees trimmed.

oqui's got a bum shoulder, so whatever work we might've thought to do ourselves and save some money....so not gonna happen. hiring people to do the work would put us so far over our (imaginary) budget that we might as well just declare bankruptcy now.

so....today we go a'looking. we've got a short list. 6 properties. 4 school districts. prices all over the place...

one of them...will be our new home.

we're gonna lose a little chunk of money walking on this deal, but...

I don't give a hairless rat's hiney.

this place is bad news....has been from the start and we are OUTTA HE'RHE!



...oqui hates my guts over it (as does our realtor)...


but he'll just have to deal.

mercy!

I've had enough of the pukes.

sweet jesus a'mighty,

enough, already.

pllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllease stop.

pretty please.

thought

I should really take down that preggo pic...

lest I continue to get knocked up.


(thinking ahead, I am)

guilt

don't I feel like an asshole?

worse, still...don't I feel tremendously, heart-wrenchingly guilty?
yup. sure do.

we found out last week that I was pregnant with twins, but one died.

died...right about the time I wrote my hateful, selfish "do not want" blog. I KNOW I was overwhelmed; physically, emotionally, mentally...and now I know why.

but I also know that I was so reluctant and hesitant to accept my fate that I forced the little soul right out of one of my babies.

now, I'm not feeling self-indulgent and whiney, here. despite many people's attempts to convince me otherwise...I know what I did. I'm taking responsibility.

I didn't have enough. I couldn't handle being pregnant with two, nursing another, being sick, being scared, etc...and that bothers me. if I were a bit stronger. a bit more capable...a bit...sturdier, maybe both would have survived.

I've come to a place of acceptance (and pain) and am doing my best to make peace with the baby that I know felt unloved and unwanted.

I have a feeling it'll take years.

on the other hand...I'm wondering why the baby that's left chose to stay...and doing my best to think positively.

after the Prof's amazing birth (notice I didn't mention anything about the pregnancy being amazing? yeah, I still hate that part)...I was very confident that my body could handle this.

no prob. a little sickness, some hormonal upheavals, fatigue and some stretching...I got this.

now...now, I gotta admit I'm actually a little scared.

something went terribly wrong with one of my babies...

what do I have to do to protect the other?

better

pregnancy does not directly equate to a feeling of impending death, doom and despair, today.

I'll take it.


*knocking furiously on wood that I don't get all nastified sick, again. cause seriously....I really fucking hate that*

return to sender

do not want.

I don't want to be pregnant. in fact...(keeping it real here)...I don't want another baby.

do.not.want.

not at all.

call me selfish. call me careless. call me completely fucked...but that's how I feel.

I've already got a baby and he requires a good dose of attention and care...and frankly, that's about all I've got in me.

I want just a smidge of my life back. I'm not talking cocktails, tailgating, and my figure. all completely meaningless, pointless and not of my concern.

my desires are way less superficial and much more basic.

I want sleep. strength. health and exercise.

I want to climb. I want to ride...and I want to be able to nap after doing so.

I haven't slept through the night in 16 months. its driving me absolutely fucking crazy (obvious much?).

I am tired. I'm weak. I'm dizzy and I'm nauseated enough to consider killing myself and this embryo.

don't want.

(un?)fortunately, I'm of the moral fiber that abortion isn't even close to being an option. I'm BY NO MEANS a conservative, christian or even particularly judgemental...

but I can't do it.

wish I could. (REALLY wish I could)

can't do it.

my body can't take much more of this. I don't do pregnant well. I'm sickly, drained, bedraggled and ill.

I look like I'm dying. not exaggerating that. oqui actually apologized to me the other day for killing me...slowly...via pregnancy.

I FEEL LIKE I'M DYING.

the newborn days and nursing were no better for me. I couldn't eat like a real person for a year. always fatigued. always exhausted. trouble breathing.

I'm convinced I've digested portions of my heart, lungs and liver.

I'm not strong enough to do this, again. honestly...my body (and mind) have had enough.

I've been a parent my entire adult life. even before the technical start of "adulthood."

I want a break.
I need a break.


I DON'T need another baby....and there's nothing I can do about it.

unpossible

we are supposed to settle on the new house in 8 days.

ummm...no.

long story (INCREDIBLY LONG STORY) short:

-dude filed for bankruptcy 3 years ago and didn't disclose it. awesome. now the court must be involved to approve the sale, but first...

-dude has to be declared mentally competent to enter into a contract/undergo bankrupty proceedings/wipe his own ass, etc.

yes. he was declared incompetent 11 (ELEVEN FUCKING) years ago, had the deed to his home (the one we're trying to buy) transferred to his grandfather, had it transferred back when he got married WITHOUT REVERSING THE INCOMPETENCE RULING, and now the title to the home is completely fucked.

we MUST settle on this (or any other) home before November 30 in order to get the 8 grand tax credit.

so not gonna happen.

I'm livid, concerned and more nauseous than ever.

honest to god WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO LIVE???

my ex-husband is coming back for this house in 8 days...

sure hope he likes having roomies.

penis poisoning

I'm pregnant.

but too sick to talk about it in any detail.

when I stop wishing for death, I'll elaborate.

until that time...ladies, do what you can to avoid penis poisoning.

Professor Formula Breath

taking itty bittle minor steps to start weaning the Prof...

including that nasty rotting flesh formula.

he has taken (and by taken I mean he's SMITTEN with) to a cup with a straw, so I've been trying to sneak the occassional ounce or so of horse piss (ie. formula) into his wooby cup...appropriately diluted with juice, pedialyte or motor oil...you know, to improve the taste.

so far...I've gotten about 6 ounces in him. total. in 11 months.

we're obviously gonna have to take this slowly...

in non-formula weaning news; oqui got him to sleep last night without my help. hell...I wasn't even here.

the kid went to sleep without nursing, slept the entire night (who IS he???) and I woke up feeling like my chest was going to explode.

fun. fun. fun.

but...it must be done, at least to some extent.

I need the rest...

stilllll sleepy.

not as sick, but definitely TIRED TIRED TIRED.

probably just as much from my lingering swine/plague/flu/cold as from the fact that the Prof has been...shall we say...not sleeping well?

he's cutting a tooth. (never thought I'd be so proud of a little toofer, but he's about 5 months overdue and I was starting to worry. PARTICULARLY because its a symptom of celiac, but I REALLY digress....)

he stood unassisted this week. well....danced, actually. he's definitely mine. he digs throw back jams and old school hip hop.

he said, clear as a bell, "sissy." The Monkey was THRILLED.

and he finally took to the binky...about 11 months late, but if it keeps his little teething gums happy, I'm game. he's actually more interested in playing a little game of self-fetch with it...but it keeps in happy in his playpen...which HE.ABSOLUTELY.LOVES.

amen. I can pee, again.

oh, yeah...

he humps everything, too. (balls deep)

oqui finally conceeded that a DNA test isn't necessary...

the boy is his.

stillllllllllllllllllllllll sick.

cough. gag. choke. sweat.

anyone brave enough to break the quarantine is welcome to come smack me over the head with a golf club.

kthnx.

sick.

dying.

help.