Friday, May 28, 2010

My day 1 year after he was born.

And by some, forgotten.

The day started out shitty, but I'm sure that's normal. Find me any dead baby parent that gets up (or even goes to bed the night before) in a sunshine & rainbows mood, I'd like to meet them.

I had a couple last minute plans, much like any plan I make. I'd finally decided to print off our pictures of Joel. And we decided to order flowers. I put Adam in charge of making the call, he ordered a blue, white, & yellow arrangement. Being last minute, I took the pictures from my CD & uploaded them onto the WalMart website so I could pick them up today. Yeah, fancy of me, I know.

Oh, yesterday I was at Sam's Club & bought a cake. Well, a cake & cupcakes. Came with like 10 cupcakes & a 5 inch or so cake. My mother happened to see it, asked what it was for, then acted awkward when I told her. She then asked if she was invited. Invited for what, I don't know. I told her we weren't doing anything, it was just a buy on a whim. BTW, this is also the day after she refereed to him as "the baby we were waiting on who never came." Even Adam excused that comment because my mother is awful at words. I guess she was semi-offended we didn't invite her over for dead baby cupcakes. Sorry, but we weren't having a party & considering you use vague words & stories when taking out him dying I really don't want to spend my day with us using said vague words & such.

Anyway, back to today.

Our flowers come around 2pm. They looked like a princess threw up. Remember the blue, yellow, & white? Well, the florist didn't. Pink. All pink. In a pink container even. Pink. I adore pink, but even I couldn't have looked at that arrangement unless I was a 4 year old at a princess party. Pink. The delivery guy takes it back, Adam calls & spells his name about 34 times for them. They had the flowers we wanted or didn't want, but no mention of colors anywhere. So we They were going to make us another one.


I head out to Wal Mart because there were a few things we needed, on top of picking up the pictures. I do the small amount of grocery shopping before I make a circle back to the photo department. I wait almost 10 minutes for a girl to come help me. She then tells me they had website problems so they are blurry & walked off.

Blurry is an understatement. Some you couldn't even make out what they were. I stand there, wanting to cry, another 15 minutes before she comes back. I ask her what our options are since some of them are so bad. She tells me either I pay full price for them then or she takes & shreds them then.

I do what any dead baby mom would do at someone telling them they were going to shred pictures...

I burst out into total hysterical crying.

I couldn't even talk. I just stand there crying, looking at her & down at the picture envelope from time to time, unable to make words. She finally ask me what they are & I tell her "pictures of my son who died." I think I eventually choke out that I can't use them in that condition & I know there is no point to them since you can't even see some of them, but the thought of shredding them just kills me. She looks at them, I'm wondering if she believed me honestly, & finally says, "Just, you know, I'm just going to give these to you" then she marked "NC" on the label & put them in a bag for me. I thanked her, told her I was sorry for being a mess, & went on my way.

Ever try to compose yourself in a Wal Mart? Don't. Pointless. I don't get anything else I need (I was going to get some sort of nice container for Joel's wall letters, among a couple pet things we needed), & just go to check out. Still crying. Of course, I get in the lane that doesn't even sell purse packages of tissues. It's freaking Wal Mart & I can't find any tissues? *sigh*

Eventually it's my turn & I'm not sure if she was just anti-social or didn't want to deal with someone who'd obviously been crying, but the cashier doesn't look at me or speak. Good. There was a nice gay couple behind me that knew I was upset & actually gave me a Redbox movie they were going to take back on their way out. It's The Blind Side, which I said I hadn't seen, & they assured me it was a great movie & would be uplifting & just asked me to return it in the next couple days. So that was nice. And it was also nice they asked no questions, I appreciated that.

On the way home I realized I'd forgotten things, including the bug spray we needed. Before I left the house, Jules had several bites on him. So I stop at the Rite Aid on the way home. I look around but can't find the stuff anywhere, being depressed with ice cream in the car, I asked the cashier where I could find it. I then have the oddest experience of my life. She stares at me & finally ask if it's for me or for my house. I think she means for people or a house, so I say me. She stands there & looks at me again, kinda sad, & sighs. She comes out & tells me "well, what I use..." then goes into some long story about the natural way she repels bugs because she doesn't believe in chemicals. I pacify her & when she's done I tell her I'll try those, but I still needed the spray. She then says, "Well...I'm not comfortable with this until you talk to the pharmacist since you're pregnant."


I look at her like she's nuts & tell her when I said me I wasn't actually talking about me, but my kid whose getting eat up at home as we stand there talking about it. She finally shows me where it is...a whole 10 feet away in clear view.

If I was buying beer, would she have lectured me? I should have asked.

I get a bottle of spray & make my way home.

I was kinda happy that the woman had annoyed me, because being angry makes me less sad. Kinda like how yesterday my crazy ass neighbor stopped Adam & complained that us draining our pool last week, in a gutter, on the other side of our house, had flooded her basement. Yes, camo tarp neighbor. She has pictures & everything. We've drained out pool every year the same way. We drain it every fall to the half way mark to cover it. But this year we flooded her basement? Seriously?! And she tells Adam this when she damn well knows what time of year it is. So I give it a week, tops, because she comes knocking on our door or catches him outside again & ask for money for the "damages" for her basement that she's told us previously had flooded before. We have alot of ground water in this area, she'd told me before that she's got washed out sink holes under her back deck & stuff, told us how her basement has flooded before. So blaming the pool after all the times we've drained it the same way is, well, bullshit. And considering she's sue happy, I'm sure when we refuse to give her anything I'll end up in small claims court.

But that's another rant for when I get served papers.

So basically, though nothing that went bad today is my fault, I've felt like a complete failure. Story of my life though (note the blog title, & the new subtitle under the title, thanks to Amy). I also suck as a wife because I feel like this stuff didn't exactly work out & I wanted to do something to, uh, cheer up my husband. Cheer up isn't exactly the right term, I think "keep him from throwing himself under a bus" is a better one, but you get the idea.

Of course I worry I've made his friend consider killing himself. After I got home, I saw on facebook that Adam had posted this nice picture of the flowers with the candle from Joel's service a year ago & labeled it as "Joel's First Birthday." The very first comment was from someone who is, well, dense I guess because he posted about how now will comes the times of getting into everything, then talking, then the "mine" stage...blah blah blah. Guy had no idea Joel had died & obviously didn't look at the picture. So I responded with my charming comment of "Don't worry, we don't have do worry about any of that since our son is dead." I did that before Adam could do the mature thing & remove the comment or send the guy a message pointing it out. Apparently when the guy realized what it was, he sent several messages of apology & from the sound of it, wants to throw himself in front of a bus as well. I actually wasn't mad or upset, I just thought he was an idiot. Still think he's an idiot, but I'm twisted so I actually feel bad for making the guy feel bad about it. Go figure.

This aspect of my life sucks. Sucks big time. Doesn't suck as much as it did last year, but it sucks as much as it always will. The sadness & pain isn't there like it was, which I almost feel bad for, I feel like I should be more sad than I am. Then I have a nervous breakdown in Wal Mart & realize, "hey, I'm not so stable after all." But I am proof that things get better. Somewhat. Eventually.

Then you'll experience great sorrow at one place, to be replaced by great furry at another place 20 minutes later & realize it's a good thing you don't keep weapons in your house. And that you are on medication.

I do want to thank people for everything. I won't make a list because I suck at list (the word "suck" is word of the day I guess), but people should know who they are. People who left comments, sent e-cards, text messages, facebook messages or postings...the works. I appreciate you all. It's nice to know you're being thought of.

Which leads me to my next rant that goes along with the first part of this blog...Joel being forgotten.

There is really no polite way to say what I'm feeling, nor do I care to worry about being polite, but I simply cannot believe that these past couple days went by with no one in my family acknowledging it. No one. Save my cousins wife, but she doesn't count because she's not blood related therefore she has sense. No cards, no emails, no phone calls, not even a stinking reply on a facebook status that I know they read because they've gossiped about them in the past. I don't know if they just don't think it "counts" or if they all just sat down behind my back & decided it's not to be mentioned, but it's sad. And it makes me mad. Some of these people bitch that I'm not close with my family & that I don't "open up" enough with them. Well, don't acknowledge my dead son & see how much I want to open up to you then.

My parents told me a couple days ago that after Blair is born they want to have a get together in our honor. I wasn't too into the idea because I'm not a huge fan of everyone passing around my newborn or the fact that my parents get really creeped out by breastfeeding & I don't want to deal with any of the weird looks or suggestions of formula since I won't lock myself in a room to feed him, but from the sound of it they were going to serve the same food & such from Joel's memorial service, which is something Adam & I both agreed we don't want to relive ever again but I figured I could fight that battle some time before the "event" was held, but considering my dead sons birthday can't be acknowledged, everyone can fuck off if they think 3-4 weeks later they can sit around, make small talk, & acknowledge the new baby. I consider it the best thing for them even, because at this rate someone would forget to count Joel in the head count of my children & I'd have to punch them right on the spot & we don't want to deal with those issues. I'm sure if I say anything about this to my parents, they'll complain we didn't invite them over for cupcakes & think that's a reasonable explanation. I do not have the patience, nor the urge, to fight that battle. So I'll just bask in the glory of knowing I'm right & next time anything is said in passing about me being a loner or not as involved in their lives as they'd like, I might throw out a response. Of course, that will lead to the "we're sad, too" comments to which I'll blurt out, "show it in a form other than awkwardness & I'll buy it." Maybe it's wrong of me to be lame & expect my on parents to call or something, I know I can work a phone or whatever as well...but in this situation do I have to be the one to do it? Aren't there days where people can come to me about stuff, reach out on their own? And if so, shouldn't things involving Joel be one?

So I've survived. Yay me. I've gathered further proof who around me is awesome & who around me, well, isn't as awesome. And been reminded to never use the Wal Mart photo lab.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

A subject only because I'm OCD & must have one.


Thanks to "internet girl" Valarie.

She'll also be taking pictures of The Blair stuck inside of me in a couple weeks. Isn't she nice? The people who sent text, messages, comments, etc., are also very nice & I appreciate them.

The current invader is 6lbs 4ozs as of today, btw. Three weeks from tomorrow. Something to survive until.

Ugh, survival.

The day he died.

Autopsy. Genetics. Infections. Disorders. Stillbirth. Cremation. Funeral.

Today I celebrate the one year mark of the above mentioned words becoming almost daily words in my life.


Ah, fuck that, you all know that I don't let things go that easily.

Fuck. That is the word I feel like saying.

So it's May 26th. It's not his birthday, but it was the day he died.

Tomorrow, May 27th, will be the day of hell I went through getting induced for the start of my 26 hours of fun.

And finally, Friday, he gets a birthday. One only on paper, as he was never really born, I guess he was imaginary.

I wish someone had explained those hemorrhoids & stitches were imaginary. Along with all the "did you drink/smoke/fall/do drugs/have medical problems/blah blah blah" questions I was asked.

Talk of putting the baby in a box. "No thanks, I have a $500 crib for that, but thanks anyway. Oh, wait, that won't work now."

I'm sad. But I'm still oh so bitter & angry. And honestly, the bitterness & anger grows the more I think about things during my pregnancy. Worries I had that were dismissed with bad medical advice.

It's going to be a lonely day. Adam works, I go to the doctor. He signed up for online classes last week & can't change out of them...oops, they've changed online only classes to "online with mandatory live meetings." The 26th is the first mandatory meetings from 5-8, over an hour away.

Of course, what he realized tonight is that it's not at their main graduate campus like we's one of like 5 summer classes being taught in their little building out in the middle of no where. Why is that important?

Well, it's the same little town I've only been to time was to deliver Joel, 2nd time was to pick up his autopsy report.

That's right, it's right down the street from the hospital Joel was delivered at, the little out of the way hospital an hour from us in a town we never go to. He'll be able to look out the window & stare at the hospital.

And it was listed in bright red fate was totally bitch slapping us.

There was even 2 different sections of the exact same class. Thinking they were both 100% online he just picked one. So it just so happens that he picks the one in this little down. Oh, & it's an hour longer than the other version of it. Makes no sense to me, but whatever.

Of course, he'll also get to go there again on June 16th, the day before The Blair is set to be born. So I'll be home along the night before, packing my own bag.

In other news, I feel like complete crap. Yes, already. I'm sick to my stomach, my chest feels tight, & I just want to cry but I know once that starts it won't stop for a while, so I'm hoping to hold off on that adventure until tomorrow so I can actually get some sleep tonight. There are some things even ambien can't get me to sleep through.

In just over 3 weeks The Blair should be here...if he lives. Yes, I still think that sometimes. And by sometimes, I mean alot.

I have a doctors appointment tomorrow. Nice to know things are alright. But on a day I'm convinced is jinxed I'm waiting for the ball to drop. Of course, part of me wouldn't mind if the doctor said, "we think he needs out now." Yes, I'd like him to cook as long as possible, but when you have one die in the last stage of cooking, you don't mind the idea of a little but undercooked. Alive is the goal. Obviously.

So here goes the start of my 3 days of reliving hell. And, because I'm bitter, seeing who, if anyone, remembers. I don't want people to dwell on it, but it would be nice to get an email/card/phone call from at least some peeps in the family. Sadly though, I'm not holding my breath. I doubt my parents will even mention it & I'll blame Dear Abby for that one. Last time I was there, they had a paper with Dear Abby, who was talking about how it's painful for people to remind parents of their dead babies & how it wasn't appropriate. I didn't get the chance to point out it was bullshit, so I wonder if they'll take Dear Abby to heart. Let's hope not, I personally find her to be a huge cunt when it comes to dead babies, but again, I'm bitter & angry & take offense to someone who has never had it happen "advise" people on how to remember, or forget, babies so you don't upset the parents or how people shouldn't show pictures of their dead babies. But that's another rant for another time.

Goodnight. I'll try to make it out of bed sometime over the next 3 days. I promise. Kinda. Maybe.

Monday, May 24, 2010

The Lost Photos.

First thing first...have you ever heard of this show called Lost?

No, you aren't in a time machine back to 2004/2005, I'm just really late on this.

With the glory of Netflix, the husband & I joked a few months ago that we should catch up on Lost by the time the series ended. It was a good idea.

And idea we finally decided to start this past week.

Yes, 5 seasons of Lost in a week.

No, we didn't do it. Even with marathon sessions of Lost for HOURS, it couldn't be done. I think Adam thought it could though, because he'd get mad every time I told him something I'd read online or even in the previews on Netflix. Our recent obsession of Lost has lead to some interesting discussions as well. Like the other night at Sonic, we discussed who'd we have sex with on the island. I had to spend 45 minutes defending my choice to have sex with Sawyer. I wasn't so materialistic that I wanted to screw him since he hoarded all the stuff, I was just really vein & thought he was hot. Duh.

Anyway. As of the night before the finale aired, we finished like episode 2 of season 2. We did read the descriptions of the other episodes & I googled some stuff, so I felt like we are caught up enough to be just as confused as everyone else when that shit ended. Plus, ABC aired a nice "this is what the hell has gone on" show before the finale aired. Thanks, ABC!

So here I sit. Depressed. No real reason, I just am. I'm hormonal like that. I was actually fine until the dog laid down with Jack. Then I was hysterically crying because dogs on islands are sad. Much like when I was pregnant with Jules, I cried for hours over people putting kittens in jars. I don't know, don't ask. It's just sad. And by "it" I mean me.

Anyway, in honor of things be lost, as I was laying in bed the other morning, awake but not wanting to get up, I decided to look through my phone. Eventually (well, pretty early on, there is only so many times you can look at the world clock on your phone before getting bored) I made my way to my pictures folder. Some things I never shared. Some things I don't even remember taking. And some, well, I never noticed they were amusing. Being bored, I figured I could share.

It was either that or continue staring at the ceiling fan going around.


On top of having central air, we have a window air conditioner in our bedroom because I stay hot. Very hot. So I freeze my husband.


Even in the winter, I set this puppy on 61. I have also trained my son to sleep in a freezing room. It's a great thing.

Adam was here for this, too.


Of course, I only took this picture after I was sending the photos to photobucket & he made fun of all the messages noises my phone was making. So ha, here is the back of your head husband.

There is no theme here. There isn't a real time line either. Just some "haha" & some "WTF?" mixed in.

This is from January. I though I was huge.


This is me at 33 weeks.


Then at 34.


And finally last week at 35.


I didn't realize it, but around week 32 I started measuring "big." The doctor gave me the good word last week that at 35 weeks, I was measuring 39 on his trusty tape measure. He's looking forward to the growth scan I have this week to see if it's just me, how the baby is laying, or if this baby is trying to grow huge. I'm not concerned, especially by a tape measure measurement, but I'm a weirdo so I'd like this baby to break the 8lb mark. Why? Just because. I'd hoped the same for Joel. I think part of me wants him to be able to wear his cloth diapers sooner than later.

I have a cat named Hammy. He likes boxes.


And bowls.


Murphy likes boxes, too.


And little hats.


This is the sweet little thing came home with us.


Here is my son embracing his inner Murphy.


And here is Murphy, turning into a ghost.


Speaking of my son, I think he's rather cute in his cow car seat.


It's an expensive seat & he was rear facing until he was 25 months, so that means I'm a better mother*. Don't believe me? You obviously don't know how crazy ass mothers think. It's all a contest about who loves their children more from the moment you pee on a stick.

*I in no way believe these insane claims, but I do enjoy mocking them.

But I'm a bad mother, because he's not even near potty trained at this point in his young life. In fact, he wears his underware like this.


Adam wasn't as into it as we were.


But he did make this himself a couple months ago.



He also wears a cape.


And cooks.


Of course, this picture looks like he's cooking something illegal.


This is my laundry a while back.


This is my laundry this week.


So it's obviously a very rare thing around here, to have thousands of loads of unfolded laundry. Sure. Rare. Like, you know, weekly.

Even Jules doesn't get why laundry is so hard for us to fold.


Of course, I'm not sure why...


Woody ends up in my drink.



Why he has to break my sheer pole all the time.

I'm also unsure why he insist on wearing nothing but a diaper while trying to ride Buddy Dog.


I guess he goes exploring in his own mind.


Maybe he can explore Crackle Barrel & find the guy who looked like Ichabod Crane like we saw once.


He is obviously ready for a new baby.


Today we built Pickle the orphan kitten a large cube area so she can explore, eat, get use to litter, & hopefully get some exercise. He threw a fit that it was his cube, not Pickle's. It was a nice 45 minute melt down.

But no worries, he plays well with others.


I really have no idea what happened there, nor do I have a memory of it, so I'm guessing (read: hoping) everything was fine. I could have just blocked this out, who knows.

But maybe Pickle is just evil. I mean, she can look evil.


And the school year may be about over (or over depending on your part of the world) but start looking for those back to school specials now.


I have mentioned that the husband is a teacher, right?


What better way to end this?

Insert your own picture of one of the hot men of Lost here.

Or, you know, Vincent.


Awww. I'm going to go cry more now.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Best spam comment ever.

On my last blog entry, there was this comment.

View details

性感帯オナニー グッズペペローション遠隔バイブおとなのおもちゃドライオーガズムローション 通販バイブ おもちゃ大型ホール

That is a link. The link is as follows...

That link? Oh my. Thank you, google translate, for helping me here.

For only 5.999 yen, you can have something described as "Non-dimensional structures is the best! Popular AV actress "Maria Ozawa" thorough reproduction of comfort 挿Re! Maria Ozawa 3DCG motif in creating a three-sided figure, Fine Instruments created the ultimate lifelike vagina! Slot a lot of thick, surprise inside line so realistic, developed G Spot! also add structure and groove construction process Poruchio countless folds, made of Fine Instruments is a miracle. Ascension will let you have always adhered to five."

Even in English, I'm not sure what some of that means. But added g-spot? Men who can't find the thing on a real woman are going to find it on a sex toy? Yeah, sure.

Thankfully, they show pictures as well. Like this.

*blink blink*

You don't need google translate for that.

But I know I can also buy "Lotions specifically developed specifically Artificial vagina. Special formula is less dry, essential Artificial vagina! ! !"

If you're going to buy a fake vagina, you might as well pop for the special fake vagina lotion, don't you think?

I've hit the big time in the world of blogging. Not just spamming, but sex spamming.

What should I write on the celebration cake for this moment you think?

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The cause of the camo tarp effect.

Let's recap, shall we?

We had the start of the great swing set adventure.

Then I skipped ahead to the end effect of my neighbors crazy ass tarp.

Then I shared my sweet ass, hot pink revenge.

I'm sad I didn't think of that as the blog title. Hell, maybe I should just rename my entire blog "Sweet Ass, Hot Pink Revenge." Hmmm...

Now, we have the untold story of the building of the playset.

It started days before my teacher husband had his spring break. That's right folks, I'm a meanie wife who makes her husband use his week off to get up & build my kid a playset that I picked out & bought. Mr. "Go Big or Go Home" studied his instructions from the moment we got them.


By "studied" I mean he held them & stared at the TV.


Proof that everyone really does love Raymond.

After his studies, he went to get the wood at Lowes. Our goal? Find out how much lumber a Kia Sorento can hold. The answer? Enough for a playset.


Adam felt special with his little flag hanging off. I'm sorry, but if you can't see ALL OF THE LUMBER can you really see a little flag? I've never understand that. I've never seen wood in a truck & thought, "shit, I didn't see that until I almost ran into it!"

And we all know I run into shit.

He took a nice artistic picture of his load.


The phrase "his load" makes me feel weird & awkward, but if you want really weird & awkward, go over to his blog & read about that time after his reversal surgery that we bought a microscope & checked for swimmers.

Anyway, back to wood.


Sorry. I'll try to control myself.

To be perfectly honest, Jules was content with just the lumber.


He thought it was like the coolest thing ever. Kinda like how a kid gets $100 toy & only wants to play with the box.

Adam decided that once he unloaded his load, to use the Sorento as a tool box.


I'll refrain from making a lame joke about how it's a box like SUV that a tool drives everyday.

It was a process that seemed like it'd never look like a playset. At the end of the first day, we had this...


Jules said it was a bird house. Of course, my crazy ass neighbor asked Adam if he was building a floor for our gazebo.

Because, you know, that looks like a floor. Sure, he was building it UNDER it at one point for whatever reason...but you think it looks like a floor, even with all the playset stuff around him & after I've told you we're* building one? Xanax must be one trippy drug.

*By "we're" of course I mean him while I curl up on the couch uploading pictures of this mess.

Jules went from trying to be helpful...


To just doing what I'd do...


Sitting in a lawn chair, bossing. Of course, who know, maybe in that picture with the hammer he's getting ready to beat Adam's shins up. Who really knows when it comes to short people what their little crazy minds come up with. This is the same kid who cries when you tell him not to touch bird poop while screaming at you, "my bird poop!"

Adam had odd methods of building. For example, he spent a decent amount of time trying to use scrap wood to balance this contraption on.


I'm sure there is a totally rational reason that this is fine, but I thought it was amusing.

And of course the mad couldn't be bothered to get a ladder, so he got a cooler instead.


I'm really unsure how after 1 day the instructions got this worn out.


He did alot of this.


And I started to wonder if this was going to be part of it's actual foundation.


And then there is the level he was using.


This level came from my dad. Adam swears it is not really level. Adam has this weird paranoia that my dad wants him to fail at all home improvements. He also swears that the square my dad gave him is a little off as well. Of course, maybe if he didn't, you know, stake it in the ground randomly it wouldn't be "off."

I looked up & was confused for a minute...


I didn't understand why he was drilling holes in the new Toy Story snack box I'd gotten from the Disney Store. I realized there was wood behind it & calmed down.

Then I looked up...


Oh look, my son is standing on an unfished, I'm sure somewhat unstable play structure.

And the end of the day, I asked Adam to throw away some of the random trash. I packed it in a box. Jules helped him toss it.


By toss it, of course, I mean onto the ground. He wore the box as a hat while Murphy & Buddy danced around it with delight.

Then, to make him seem good & manly, we took these shots.




Totally real & not staged at all. Nope, not at all.

The next day he decided he needed to move this whatever it is, & sadly that meant my snazzy pop up gazabo needed moved.


It un-popped.

Jules loved this idea.




I was kinda concerned that I'd been sitting under it with 3 instead of 4 safety stakes.

Trying to kill me, I tell you, he's trying to kill me. Or at least make me cry.

In it's glory.


The angels* even came out to shine on it.

*By angels I mean, if anything, people from the crazy hospital escaping with flashlights or something.

As Adam moved this structure, Jules decided to be helpful*.


*by helpful, I mean in the way because he's 2 & what the hell else does he do when you're trying to move a 300lb structure?



Then he sucked on stakes for my gazebo.



He helped hammer in the stakes...


While going "ham ham ham!" because of course a hammer makes the "ham" sound.

Then he realized we thought he was cute, remembered he was two, then threw a fit over something.


He spent 5 minutes pouting on the hillside.




Always good to find pieces of glass in your new play area.

I found...


He-Man's leg.

I'm not sure I've mentioned this, but this house is a house of, well, fuckery. I mean, get over the drug dealing, gun shooting, people living under the stairs in the basement, dead guy who fell off a ladder...& you're still left wondering what the hell they did to this yard & why there are so many radon toy parts all over the place. Last summer, after living here for 2 years, we happened upon a little girls sandal. A sole, creepy, sandal. We found it a place we always were. Like I said, fuckery. And creepy.

I then looked around me.


Wood. Little pieces of scrap wood. Realizing that extra money is always good, I started to wonder if I could sell signed pieces of this wood for like $1 on here. Always looking for lame ways to make money, I get that from my dad.

Then I look back & see Adam wasting time.


Why is he wrestling with the dogs?!

Then Jules was really concerned & insisted on helping him up.


Realizing helping him up wasn't enough, Jules went to work himself.


He quickly moved onto my method.


Overlooking & giving commands.


I was going to make fun of this...I'm not sure why.


But I am sure I forgot why because I saw this...



...that's just on there once, right?






Then I was scared. Why?



Do you really want a question mark? I asked why it was there & he told me he wasn't sure if that one went there or somewhere else.


This project was pretty damn exciting. How do I know that?


Because Jules didn't care about Elmo.

But he did care about wood.


And building whatever he thought was a birdy house.


I eventually hear cursing. I see this.


What is that?


Danger, that's what it is.

Adam explained that he didn't get enough short screws, so he thought the longer ones were fine. See?



Adam then goes into how he needs top nails only. I point out this.


That worked well. And he noticed AFTER doing the entire wall of boards.

The bottom is just as deadly.


Can you actually see the light bulb clicking on?


I then get the glory of going out to Lowes. With a sample screw. Adam calls the company to complain, they offer us a free telescope to make up for our issues.

Our issues my ass. Know how I felt?


Like that dog. Or bear. Whatever the hell it is. Me. At Lowes. Looking at wood screws. A guy waddled over asking if I needed help, which I did. But of course I couldn't tell him what I needed & showing him wasn't enough. He wanted to know the, uh, width? It's a fucking screw, isn't that enough for you?!

Well, it wasn't. So he basically wishes me luck & I eventually find 250 of those puppies that I think will work. They'll have to be better than the stabbing screws Adam had before.

Speaking of idiots at Lowes, I shall confess something. Adam didn't actually cut the lumber. We paid $18 for Lowes to make the cuts for us.


Accuracy, doing it wrong.

They measure as well as Adam does. Have I told you about the time Adam measured our pool about 55 times before I ordered a new pool liner, & each time managed to be off by TWO FEET?! And we didn't find this out until AFTER ordering & trying to install the non-return-able pool liner. So I guess I can't mock them too much for 1/2 inch here or there.

Insert your own joke about mean & measuring things wrong.

The dogs assisted in the building of the swing pole thingy...


While Jules did this.



After the swing pole thingy was built, he attempted to attach it to the structure.


Then Adam did this.


And he had no idea why I laughed & laughed.

Then Murphy & the kid fought over a stick.


While I sat & watched the overweight, shirtless neighbor work on his roof, as he has for about 2 years now, while yelling at his kids & rocking out to "Girls Just Want to Have Fun."

Oh, it's as attractive as it sounds.

And WE get the camo tarp? Ugh.

While I ponder the weirdness I live around...


Adam put the thingy up.

Jules, he buried Toy Story figures in my potting soil.


A SWING BEAM! That's what the sing pole thingy is called. A swing beam. I could go back & change my words, but as I've said previously, this is how my mental processes work & I think you should all have to experience them.

As he put the bolt thingys into the swing beam, I was really excited & captured the moment.


Then I took all of his glory & placed the first swing.


Amazing, isn't it?! I was impressed.

Jules was still digging in dirt still.

I then look around at the mess.


Then I do exactly what you think I do...leave the mess & go do something else to pretend I don't notice.

I decided to start putting chains in the swings.




You have to remember to hold one end.



Still in the dirt.



Know what those are?

The screws we "didn't get." To screws I went out & got replacement screws for. I suddenly felt, well, screwed.

Jules finally noticed we had something other than crappy wood.


Yay, swing! And it held. Be impressed, I know I was.


Adam then man handled a slide.


Of course, that's only after I yelled at him. He was very very very into "surface material." I told him if I had to wait anymore to see this thing look like something, I'd go nuts. I also told him if he said the phrase "surface material" one more time like he'd been talking about non-stop for weeks now, I'd go nuts on him.

And by that night, Jules had a slide.


Yes, I really meant night.

The slides, they are fast.


Then the next day...somehow...



And I still had my sitting area, because I'm lazy like that.


Jules was all about the climbing wall.


Adam was all about getting this damn thing done.


Murphy was all about standing in the way.

Climbing ensued many times.


But he didn't want to go down the slide.


He keeps telling me something is there, but I think it's dirt. I was wrong.



Having a "I don't kill shit" policy, I told Adam that he needed to kill it. He did this.


Whacked at it with a block of wood. He told me it was dead. I explained it was still walking. So he did this.



Jules still stood around unsure of the slide. I sat down then noticed he was about to go down, so I snapped a picture in order to get an action shot. I got this.


...I know it makes me an awful mother, but I laughed hysterically when I realized what the camera had caught.

He then moved onto playing with a nice, safe phone.


I then organized my...uh...I mean, the kids play area.


And was really impressed.


Then Adam showed me this...


Oh look, extra parts.


Be scared, I know I am.

In other news, here is a run down of my life as of late.

I had my celebration cake for my 100+ peeps.


Oreo Ice Cream, btw.

We've been painting.


I've been promised The Blair has hair.

We've been bottle feeding a stray kitten that was just a couple days old when we got her.


She had a brother, but he was much smaller & weaker & passed away the 2nd day we had him. I've named her Pickle.


She reminds me of a panda bear for some reason. Go melt into a puddle now.

And yes, these are the kittens I was out getting formula for when I crashed my car. Oh, just under $7,000 in damages. Woohoo me!

My son is insane. Still.


And me? Well, I've been sexually harassed by Chuck E Cheese.


Ah, life.

I have a prenatal on Wednesday, the same date I had an appointment with Joel where I complained he wasn't moving, was given a NST, & sent on my way. I'll then likely have my next appointment on the 26th, which is the same day Joel died.

Ah, fate.


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