Monday, February 27, 2012

Serious s@#*

*Warning- Mild expletives ahead!*

Some days, I feel like my life is shit. Literally shit.

I am constantly cleaning up literal shit. And pee and vomit and other wonderfulness.

I am cleaning up figurative shit- Messes other people have left and I am somehow holding the bag.

I am cleaning up my own shit- My goodness, I thought I would have less shit of my own to deal with by the decrepit old age of thirty-eight.

I am taking people's shit- Sometimes, I just get those days where people are giving it out freely. And copiously.

And then, when I start to feel bad about it, I see this at the market...


Maybe it is because of all of the shit that I am dealing with, but this cupcake mix makes me deliriously happy for one realization. I may have ALL of the above-said shit to deal with, but at least I can choose not to eat shit. For God's sake, look at that cupcake and tell me your mind did not go straight there. I dare you.

Hug

Me, as she is going to bed- "Come give me a hug."

Superteen, who has been chock full of wonderful and wit all day- Blank stare, then blinks twice.

Me- "What was that?"

Superteen- "Virtual hug, Mom. Virtual hug."

Me- Silence, as she cracks herself up and then hugs me hard...

Superteen-13              Mom-0

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Definitely NOT Rolling in the Deep.

Okay, I know I have been blogging about hard stuff lately, but I also am cognizant that life does indeed go on and there is laughter and good even during the darker days.

That being said, three pics from our Sunday. Our day that was filled with chlorine, loads of extra monkeys, crafts, waffles, Vampire Diaries, long walks, and more. Good times :-)

Bug the Pug, watching Cake Boss. Natch.

Pretty sure the diner meant "straws', not 'warts', Superteen.

Kids crafting my sick love of Galaga.

Unintentional Diet

I am usually one who goes to comfort food in bad times. I want bread or mac and cheese or tiramisu (looking at you, Patricia...). I want hot drinks and sweet foods that will wrap around me like a security blanket. I want sweet and salty and decadent to make me forget whatever is hurting. I want Paula Deen to cook for me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, as she slathers butter onto anything that slows down.

 Yes that is a bacon egg burger on a glazed donut. Oh. My. Arteries.

Not now, though. For some reason, nothing tastes good. Everything tastes like cardboard. Nothing has any flavor and even swallowing food seems disgusting. I have been living on protein shakes, grape tomatoes and apples for the past week because even smelling food makes my stomach turn.

Friends promise me that the Breakup Diet is temporary, that eventually red wine and cheese will sound good again. In the meantime, I should just enjoy the twelve pounds I have lost thus far. Who knew the breakup would have me fitting in jeans I have not worn in four years? Ooooh, the irony.

And before you ask, Nutella does not even work right now. I told you this was rough.

                                                              picture by Eats.com Arteries were probably harmed in the photo shoot.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Love is in the Sidebar...

Facebook wants me to feel the love.
Seriously, Facebook would like for me to get out there and get my groove on.

Since I changed my status on Facebook to 'single', which I failed to realize would go ANYWHERE except on my 'About' page, I have gotten all of the Facebook fun. No more ads for Gout treatments, no more Scientology cruises or suggestions to follow the Number One Glutenologist.

Thanks spelb.com for the cool hearts...

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Monkey Wisdom






First, Supertween will henceforth be known as Superteen. Ahem. She is no longer a preteen. She is an official teen, although we won't be delving into that too much here. Unless I feel like embarrassing the snot outta her with nekkid baby pictures or certain stories...


Second, Timesboy, still Timesboy, got new threads. He thinks they fit great. HE is also the kid who thinks the world would be better if pants were optional, so I should probably be happy he is wearing any pants, no matter what the fit.

I beg to differ. I may or may not be having flashbacks to a certain middle school principal. Bless his high-waisted heart.

Three Peas In a Mailbox

Almost four years ago, I left everything behind except for my kitchen table, pictures, books, and my sanity. The monkeys and I started fresh. We worked on healing and coming together as a family of three. One night, not long after we moved into our little townhouse, I had a weird notion that we needed a family motto.

Supertween came up with "three peas in a pod."

Timesboy came up with "three envelopes in a mailbox."

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Perspective

Broke the news to my monkeys today because they have been at their dad's house through the last few days.

Supertween was quiet, thoughtful about it for a few minutes. Said she was very sad. Sad for me, sad for herself, Timesboy, and all involved.

Then... "Mom, on a scale of one to Adele, how are you feeling about the breakup?"

Adele. Seriously, Adele.

I think we are going to be okay. Good God, the ways I love my monkeys...

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

And.
































I am a serial monogamist. I hatehatehate the idea of dating, so I have dated less than a handful of people in seventeen years. This relationship lasted well over two years and I got veddy used to being part of the 'and'. People invited C 'and' Robyn to events. Conversations were about C 'and' Robyn. Plans were for C 'and' Robyn.

And now there is no more 'and'. Just me. Absolutely frikking terrifying, but also a little bit exciting. I have spent my whole life being the 'and' but I am taking a break just to be me. I plan on taking care of my monkeys, my dogs, AND me. I plan on standing on my own two feet, learning what I want and what I don't want.

I spent two days moping and being self-destructive. I smoked seven cigarettes, God help me. I wrote, I cried, I felt properly sorry for myself. I wondered what I had done to deserve this with everything else that is so overwhelming right now.

AND then, I cleaned my garage. I scrubbed my kitchen. I took the world's longest shower to try to get the nasty nasty smoke and garage foulness off of myself. I worked on a painting. I took my doggies on a two hour walk, had tea AND coffee with friends. I worked out til my muscles shook. AND I realized that I have been so busy trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to take care of everyone else that I have not taken care of me in a very long time.

So I am going to be JUST me. I am going to work out when I want, run when I want, go to church. I am going to watch tacky TV without shame or judgement. I am going to avoid pork chops like the Plague and indulge in sashimi like it is my last meal. Again, God help me, I am going to buy a drill and use it properly. I am going to buy a lawnmower and learn how the contraptions work.

I am going to revel in being a Table for One. Just one.






























Monday, February 20, 2012

And then there was one...

Well, that was like ripping a bandaid off. Twice. From raw skin. Hurt like hell, but  "that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

I am single again. And I am strong- this hurts but I know I will be fine. Better than fine, eventually.

See, I am fine. Really, I am fine :-)

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Abolishing My Old Age

"Mom?"

"Yes, love?"

"Were you alive when the Civil War ended?"

"Excuse me?"

"Were you alive when they abolished slavery?"

"You are kidding, right? That would make me almost a hundred and fifty years old, Timesboy."

"Oh. Yeah. I knew that, Mom. I just wanted to use the word 'abolish'. Seriouly."


Meet Abraham Lincoln. Apparently, my peer.

Timesboy- 1865 
Mom- 0

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Monday, February 6, 2012

Nutelly, Get Into My Belly!!


C is skiing and working in Switzerland this week. I know, hard times, right?
Sooo, as he is strolling through the airport, C stops and snaps pics of this Nutella display at the Duty Free Shop. The picture scarcely does them justice but apparently each jar is over five pounds of Nutella. Each jar is, in his words, about the size of two rolls of paper towels. 

Mull that over for a second, peeps. A gargantuan jar weighing five pounds. Five pounds of smooth chocolaty hazelnut just begging to be saved from the airport in Switzerland. Do you have any idea how many spoonfuls of heaven that is? How many sandwiches? How many desserts that I have pinned on Pinterest? 

He didn't get the jar. I tried to act like it didn't matter. I tried to act nonchalant, like "Really, what kind of Nut Job would want a FIVE POUND jar of Nutella?" 

Then I casually mentioned that while I like Nutella, I really really also like Swiss watches, the nice Swiss watches. Thought this might put the fear of God in him and he might happily appease me with the giant jar of Nutella, but no dice. No Nutella, no Swiss watch made by hand. I'm kinda resigned to the possibility that I might get a 'Switzerland' tee-shirt made in Indonesia by small children.

Goodbye, sweet Nutella Giant.



Sunday, February 5, 2012

OWNED

















She slobbers and spits. She leaves disemboweled and ripped stuffed animals strewn across the house. She will eat anything that slows down long enough for her to sink her little mini-chiclet teeth into it. She has worse gas than a bus full of nine-year-old boys leaving Taco Bell. She has an underbite that causes one tooth to stick out 24/7.

And she owns any dog who comes near. Take this picture. See Mutzie, aka Walter the Farting Dog, perched atop the couch in the comfy spot. If you could see a closeup, you would see a triumphant snaggle-toothed smile. Now, see Lucky the Amazing Wonderdawg, looking defeated and pissed. If you could see a closeup, you would see the red hot rage building in his beady little eyes.

That should be his spot.

It's not. He got owned and now it's simply the couch or the floor for him.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Grocery List

The Kid has made his needs very clear on my grocery list. Goldfish, goldfish, goldfish, goldfish, AND a few more goldfish...