Thursday, September 29, 2011

Random Thoughts of a Bitter TMJ Sufferer

*I gave birth to my children au' naturel. I did.  I don't bring this up in normal everyday conversation.  Even when people mention their birth stories I usually keep my mouth shut.  I don't tell many people that I did natural child birth unless they ask or I am in so much fucking pain and I am trying to get the doctor to understand that I can't bear another minute of it.
I swear to GOD I used this phrase to nurse this past week:
"I DID NATURAL CHILD BIRTH.... TWICE!  I AM NOT SOME CRACKED UP OXY-WHORE I AM IN PAIN!"
She told me to take Aleve.
I shit you not.
Realizing that my outburst did make me sound like a cracked-up-oxy-whore is beside the point.  I was in fricken pain and after all my misdiagnoses and unnecessary antibiotics I was ready to cut a bitch.
Needless to say I am in the works of finding a new doctor.
What a bitch to do.

* I stated to my mom and sister that an appointment with a Physicians Assistant is tantamount to a pity fuck.  I am sure  P.A.s serve their purpose but the last thing I want you to give me is an appointment with someone who can only dole out Ibuprofen and Amoxicillin.

*Did you know that taking an antibiotic can give you stomach problems.  And if you already have issues with your stomoach you are basically up shit creek.  Literally it ain't pretty.
Also taking an antibiotic can give you a monster of a yeast infection.   I am not trying to be gross, these are just the facts man.  Antibiotics get rid of all the bad bacteria that makes you sick and all the good bacteria that helps with digestion and the good bacteria that gets rid of yeasts in your va-jay-jay area.
So when you have taken like seven antibiotics you are a walking yeasty-petri dish that has uncontrollable farts.   Good times.

*I am just so bitter right now.

*Catch my daily TMJ reports on my Twitter page. 

*Unrelated to TMJ, my hubby and I came up with a new word. "Vaginanormous"  Used in a sentence:  'After having 20 kids Michelle Dugger is vagainanormous.'

*Also unrelated to TMJ I have a mad crush on Clay Matthews.  He plays for the Packers.  I call him my boyfriend.  I tell my husband Clay can tackle me anytime.  And that I want to lick Clay's hair.  And then I simulate licking his hair by actually licking my hand.
Clay is known for his tendency to ramble incoherently which means him and I are soul mates.
He is also a Republican so my status as 'Republican Shiksa' would still be intact.
Winning.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

quote

Quotes can be totally awesome and equally annoying.  I ride the line on posting quotes.  Because sometimes you want to give inspiration the middle finger.  "Yeah, well fuck you and your ideas and making me feel guilty for wanting to sit around all day and watch this Project Runway marathon!" 
Two of my favorite quotaters are actually children writers.  Because sometimes the simple resonate more with me.   Simple is truth.  Words get used too much.  They become something less when you try too hard.
I try too hard a lot.
AA Milnes tops my list.  I see a quote and think 'WOO who wrote that?  I die from that inspiration.' And it is almost always AA Milnes.  And then I think about how much Mr. Milnes wants bitch-slap Walt Disney for putting a red shirt on Winnie the Pooh.  Because all the other characters are sans clothing, why was it important to put clothes on the bear??
Sometimes when I feel something I love to listen to 'Disobedience' and I think how cool to write about a child taking care of his mother.  Because it happens a lot.  Kids taking care of their parents.  It's poetic.  And sad.  Poetically sad.

Theodor Seuss Geisel aka Dr. Seuss is my other favorite quoter.  I read him and then think how much would he love to kick Mike Myer's ass?   Because that Cat in the Hat was bad.  Equal to spitting on Mr. Geisel's grave.
And then I think how awesome Dr. Suess was to make children's books about war and environmentalism and consumerism and Hitler.  I love to go back and re-read his books as an adult, they say so much.  And it is all simple, so simple.  And the words aren't big.  I don't have to refer to a dictionary or feel less than.  Because words mean so much when you understand them.
Words are beautiful creatures.  They have this way of combining and mutating to be something more than just a single thing.  Words are righteous. 
“Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”
A.A. Milne
“We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”
Dr. Seuss

Beautiful

Friday, September 16, 2011

Create

A few weeks ago I had a dream that I was pregnant.  It was one of those dreams that was so real, it didn't feel or act like a normal dream.  You know those kind of dreams?  The ones where you wake up and you have to take a breath and minute before you realize everything and anything that went on was all just a life lived in your sleep.  Those are the dreams that stick with you.
I had this dream that I was pregnant, it was so real in fact that I actually felt the baby kick inside me.  Little kicks that when you put your hand on your belly you can almost swear you feel the arch of the baby's heel.  I loved those kicks.  The kicks that literally knocks you on your ass.  Not because they are that strong, but strong in a way that reminds you there is a life growing in you and you are going to be a mother.  To a baby growing in you.
I had this dream that I was pregnant.  It scared the crap out of me because I am done.  My youngest is in kindergarten.  We have a small house perfect for a family of four.  I have declared to myself and to anyone who cares that I am done carrying children.  And nursing them.  I like sleeping.  I am in a place that feels good.  I lead no illusions that this is entirely my decisions and anything.  ANYTHING can happen and if anything were to happen we'd deal and love any new member to our family.  It would just be a surprise of epic proportions.
I had this dream that I was pregnant.  Having a very close family member that is pregnant I worried she would hate me for stealing her thunder.  Even though it's nice having someone to commiserate with you on the woes of morning sickness and bladder issues, it is wonderful having that undivided attention to you and only you.  Sometimes it's nice to hear "Oh I know what you mean"  and sometimes you want to punch the person in the ear because, 'no you don't know what it feels like to be me and feel my pain.  My pain is mine and you are not making me feel better by comparing your pain to mine.  I just want someone to rub my back and tell me I am going to be a fricken awesome mom and  I look so beautiful'
I had this dream that I was pregnant.  I was so scared that I looked the dream up online.
"Pregnancy often represents new growth in your life, growing creativity. The baby kicking inside could represent the idea that your creation or creative potential is trying to kick you to get your attention. Focusing on the arm might be a clue for you. An arm might represent something specific for you. What do you think of when you think of an arm? Could it represent using the arm to direct or point or does it represent your creativity? Are you an artist or do you use your arm physically in your hobby or passion such as writing or sports? You must think about this and try to draw your own meaning from it" ~Dream and nightmares.com
I had this dream that I was pregnant.  And its not about having a baby it's about starting something new.  And I realized I have a new life to start.  A life where I consider what I need to do for me, I can be a little more selfish.  And I have time to spread my wings.  And I am a creative person and I have something to say and I can say it.
It's crazy how a dream can scare you into something new.  A rebirth of yourself.  Totally Awesome.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

bad day



Today is going to be a very bad day.

Isn't it sad that you wake up and you know this will not be your day. And for five seconds you think it will all be alright and you step outside yourself and you trip on a rock or the sun blinds you or you run straight into a pole that has always been there. SMACK right in the head. And you say 'fuck this shit' and you lock yourself back in yourself. You try again tomorrow.

I love those days.

It sounds almost depressing mostly because it is depressing. But you have to realize that it is okay to have those days where nothing goes right because it makes those days where everything goes right so totally righteous.

Mostly I will just stay in today and lick my wounds and eat ice cream and not deal with people.  And realize how lucky I am that I can sit in here and eat ice cream and not be bothered by people.  It sure is lovely.

And also pray that tomorrow is better.  Because really it's just a day.  A day in a life,  a life that means more than the sun in my eye and the rock I tripped over and the hurt in my head.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

anniversary 12

12 year ago today, 9-11,  my husband and I were wed.  our anniversary is usually overshadowed by the other 9-11 anniversary.
every year i play 'the prayer'.  it was the song that was played at our wedding ceremony.  i can't help  but get goosebumps thinking how 'the prayer' perfectly works for both anniversaries.  it speaks of love and peace and hope for the future.
  
We ask that life be kind
And watch us from above.
We hope each soul will find
Another soul to love.
Let this be our prayer,
Just like every child.

Needs to find a place, guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Petal Stays Home

Click to play this Smilebox scrapbook
Create your own scrapbook - Powered by Smilebox
Digital scrapbooking design generated with Smilebox

Megan left her bunny, Petal, in my capable hands today. For those of you who know Petal know this is a BIG deal. I wanted Meg to see that Petal is in good hands so I made this digital scrapbook of our day. Hopefully Petal and I will have more days together.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Reading Goals.



This is becoming a dirty habit. It can't be helped. I listen to music all day long.I like to listen to music when I cook/clean/read/craft/lounge/journal/blog.

The other day I came upstairs and told my husband I was crafting and listening to Jay-Z.
I was Gangsta Scrappin'.

I thought it was hilarious.  Him, not so much.

I have my own little craft area, that I share with my five-year-old daughter.  She's a little creative genius.  The other day her friends came over and she said, "Just so you know I am not painting, I am Mod-Podging." 

I was a proud mommy.  (Wipes tear)

This weekend I worked on creating a way to keep track of the chillens' reading.
Our school district is limiting homework, but they are encouraging independent reading time.  To start the year off they suggested 60 minutes of reading a week, and by the end of the year they are hoping for 120 minutes, minimum, of reading a week.
To me this is a drop in the bucket, to my eight-year-old it is pure torture.

I wanted to find a way to have the kids see their goal and track their progress.  I decided to use goal thermometers....
I couldn't do it plain.  I had to jazz it up a bit.  It's a sickness.
Cute right?  It's right on the freezer door, easily accessible and easily viewed.
I found the printable thermometers here.
I divided the thermometer to match our goal.... 
Excuse the horrible glare.


At the bottom of the thermometer I have a magnet marker for each kid.  These magnet were some small circle ones I had on the fridge, I decorated them a bit...What? I'm sorry, it's a sickness.

As they read the magnet goes up....

And up.
 And hopefully every week we are off the charts.
A little motivation.  That Dr. Seuss, what a smart man.

Happy Reading!

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Hallelujah



I am linking another song.

You know this song. Even if you say you don't, you do.  This song, sung by Jeff Buckley, was the unofficial, official song of 9/11.  I heard it everywhere.  At the time it seemed apropos but if you really listened to it, like REALLY listen, it's all about King David and Bathsheba getting it on.  And some Samson and Delilah thrown in  for good measure.

Hallelujah is a kinda of a biblical song.  Sung by not so biblical people.

A song that people seem to cling to when something awful happens.
A hurricane.
An earthquake.
A terrorist attack. 

But it's a song about betrayal and sex.

It's weird.  Or just weird to me.

Part of me wants to ask- Do you remember 9/11?  Which is of course a dumb question.
What I really want to know is do you REMEMBER 9/11?
Do you remember what time you woke up?
And how you felt at that moment?
Do you remember the clear blue sky?
Did you know the conditions across the country were perfect?
And we all looked up and saw the same sky?  We did.  Everyone's sky that day was blue.
  

Is it weird that a decade later I watch clips of that day and I pray for the planes not to hit the buildings?  I do.  I know it is going to happen and I don't want it to.  If I pray hard enough maybe they won't.
And when they do I jump.  It still catches me.  And I cry.  Because seeing 9/11 still makes me weep.
And I think about how everything made no sense.
It still makes no sense.

And when things go bad we cling to the things that make sense.  And we sing 'Hallelujah' because that is what we know.   And it makes sense, even if it makes no sense at all.


 Because even though it's a song about sex and betrayal and hurt and being tied to a chair and cutting someone's hair; through all that we all still sing Hallelujah.  Because it's what we do.  It makes sense.

And now it doesn't seem so weird after all.







Friday, September 2, 2011

Lyric



Like every latte drinking/thick black framed eye-glass wearing/hipster wanna-be I like love Mumford and Sons.  You know when you are listening/reading/watching anything and you are all like "Oh, my God this is so cool and the next big thing- I have to tell everyone I know about this.  I am like an awesome trend-setter."  And than you figure out everyone already knows about it and actually you are just the last person on that next big thing's band-wagon.
That was me and Mumford and Sons.

I was listening to my Mumford and Sons' Pandora station, because yes I am  that obvious, and I heard the above song.  It's called Timeshel.

You know when you are listening to a song and you actually catch the lyrics and you are all like "Oh my God that is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard."  And than you find yourself crying.
Me, all the time.
I am a sucker for a good lyric.

I was that moody teen listening to Tori Amos.
Alone.
In my room.
In the dark. 
Pathetic, yes.
But I swore Tori got me.  She just really got me.  And I'd listen to Precious Things and rewind that one part, if you are/were a Tori fan you know that one part I am talking about, and listen to it over and over, and be all like "YES! God, Tori gets me, that's SO how my moody teen-self feels."  But I was actually a total virgin so now I look back at my moody teen-self and laugh at her.
Silly, silly girl.
She should have been at the mall instead.

Back to Mumford and Sons.
So I was listening to Timeshel and I heard these lyrics:
"And you are the mother
The mother of your baby child
The one to whom you gave life
And you have your choices
And these are what make man great
His ladder to the stars."

And this is where I get all serious.
Because sometimes being a mom is hard.  There are those moments when all I want to do is run away.  And I feel like I can't do another minute of this thing we call motherhood.  And all my decisions suck eggs.  And I am doing it all wrong.

How do we do this thing called motherhood?  Everyday. And not fear screwing it all up?

But I do this thing called motherhood.  Everyday.
And everyday my choices matter.  And even the bad ones matter.  Because he and she are mine.
They are mine.
And they matter.
And my choices shape who and what they are.
And who they will be.

Man, that is heavy. 
But as much as that weighs on me it makes me feel better.  Because I AM doing this thing called motherhood.  Everyday.  And even though, at times, I feel like I am doing it all wrong, I am still am doing it.  And that matters.

"But you are not alone in this
And you are not alone in this
As sisters we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand."






 

just

I never knew much about my Grandfather's job.  I knew he was a police officer.  A Sergeant on the Chicago Police Force.  When he came ho...