Saturday, November 27, 2010

The constant cycle of dead baby problems.

Every time I think I've hit a point in my life where I've dealt with most of the issues surrounding being the parent of a dead baby, I find another.

I should just stop jinxing myself, shouldn't I?

Anyway, black Friday shopping (the next blog...oh my) allowed me to get frames. Lots of frames to hang our recent family shots, along with other pictures we've been meaning to hang. For example, our wedding picture. Yes, we've been married for almost 4 years & it's still not hanging up. It's been in a frame even. We're just...not good at doing shit. It happens.

I have 11x14's of the boys. My plan was to hang them in the bedroom, where we keep Joel's corner shelf of stuff &, well, him. But I thought it'd be nice on one wall to have our wedding picture, then the pictures of the kids below it. This wall is in my living room.

See where I'm going with this?

Now, I'm all for dead baby pictures. I wrote a blog, which is still close to my heart, all about them. Check it out here. But...it's hard.

First of all...what if people come to my house & just stare at it. Look around awkwardly. Think it's weird, but not saying anything. How angry or hurt will I be?

Or what is someone flat out looks bothered or looks at it with a sour look on their face? Or heaven forbid says something. Is it still assault if they are in my house & I punch them?

And finally, the worse part really...do I want to look at it constantly?

I don't know.

And for that, I'm ashamed. Because I love him. And I miss him. But I can't stand to look at the picture all the time. I can't decide if it's just painful, or if it's just my fears for the above reasons.

The timing aspect is bad as well. I'm the person who likes to ease into things. Maybe have a playdate with the picture up, then have a couple friends or family over, then a gathering. But Jules is having a birthday party on the 11th. So I'm going to have around 20 people in my house. And curious kids. And people without tact (ah, family). And if I didn't like the look or comment from someone, I'm not sure what I'd do. I'm not sure if I'd curse them out. I'm not sure if I'd just freeze up & be sad later that I didn't say something. Or maybe I'd just run out of the room crying hysterically. I'm really not sure.

Screw you society for making me even second guess my idea of putting a picture in my own home. Screw you some people I know who don't acknowledge Joel for making me worry about putting it way too in your face. And screw me for even worrying about any of this. My house. We pay for it every month (OK, so it's the banks house). I paid for the print. I paid for the frame. Our nails & our hammer will hang it. But I still feel the need to take a poll among people & ask, "do you think it's normal?"

And the right answer to that really is, "what is normal about dead babies in general?"

Sunday, November 14, 2010

When toys attack.

Jules has the memory of an elephant. For example, he'll ask for his paper. Give him paper, & he'll look at you stupid. He'll then say, "no mommy, my paper with the blue lines with the small, 1/2 inch fold in the upper left hand corner with some cheese sauce smudge, & the red blur from the paint I spilled. THAT paper!"

OK, so he doesn't say that, but you get the point. Some time ago he got a Superman vinyl inflatable thing. You know those cheap things at carnivals? One of those. It got ripped, couldn't be fixed. We left it laying in our house for a month. Then, finally, Adam announced he was throwing it away.

About 2 weeks later, Jules was sad because he couldn't find his Superman. Adam tried explaining it was broke but that did no good, of course.

So Jules was sad. And he cried. Not a "give me what I want!" cry, but a sad cry for his Superman. I, as a mother, was heartbroken.

I looked at Adam. "Fix this." He didn't know how, he asked if he should go buy one somewhere. "No, go to the basement, you have to have one. Or hell, you have all of those things, bring them all up for him, what can it hurt? He'll love them."

OK, I know you're confused. What things in the basement?

Well, you see, I married a dork.

The apartment my husband lived in before moving in with me & living in sin (yeah, we shacked up before we were married & did it everywhere in that apartment, even on the kitchen counter, so ha!)...he had a toy display. Yes, toys. Like, action heros. The boxes of comics were bad enough, but he had toys. Tons of toys. Like I said, he had many on display.

And yes, I still dated him. And had sex with him, with the toys staring at us. It was weird looking back on it. But hey, he let me keep my toys (of the adult nature) so he of course kept his. But, eventually, we needed room. And his stuff was banished to the basement.

Back to the present. I knew the husband had something in the basement that would make Jules happy. And, with his recent addiction to super heroes, I knew he'd like it all. So Adam finally had to share his toys.

Hey, don't feel bad for him. He shouldn't have thrown Superman away.

Jules wanted to go to the basement, so to distract him I told him daddy was getting a surprise for him. He asked if it was a present. I said yes. I told him to cover his eyes. He did this.

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Close enough.

When it was time, he was a bit confused.

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As he explored, Adam...well, take a look.

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Oh yeah, he wasn't into the idea of sharing. At all.

Months ago, when I was trying to get Jules to play with something & Adam lectured me on letting him play with his toys how he wanted. I shouldn't tell him how to play with toys, let him use his own imagination.

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I enjoyed his pained expression. I knew that meant he now knew how to felt to see your kid play with their toys wrong.

As Jules in like a kid who just realized there is a toy store in his basement, I decide to go through these things myself. In case you don't know, action figures are hilarious. Let's check some out.

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First, I noticed this dude. This dude was noticeable because, well, he had a great big green penis thing. I asked Adam what I was holding, acting as if I was stupid, he asked, "what do you think it looks like?"

It looks like a fucking long ass green thing coming off some green guys ass, which is a long name for an action figure.

He corrected me, it was "Scorpion." Oh, OK, whatever. My answer was better.

Then I find proof I married the biggest dork around.

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This is Dead Pool. I guess that's how it's spelled. But he wasn't REALLY dead pool.

MY HUSBAND PAINTED HIS OWN DEAD POOL FIGURE.

Acting as if this was totally normal, he explained they didn't sell the figure at the time so he painted his own. I was a bit weirded out. At that moment, we were both probably wondering why we married each other, but for totally different reasons.

But I must admit, he did a decent job.

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Be impressed. Then scared. Then laugh.

This I found this.

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Yay for my 2 year olds new toys.

Then I found this dude.

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Scarecrow. It's like if a scarecrow & Freddy Kruger had a baby. And that baby was turned into an action figure for people to waste money on.

Then I found this thing.

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WTF?

Seriously.

Look at this friendly fellow.

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How did my husband ever get laid? What was wrong with me? I'm really not sure who this collection makes look worse, him or me.

I kept looking for something I'd recognize. Finally, I found something!

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A pirate. A no name pirate. But at least it had no spikes, penis like tails, or weapons. Arrggghhh.

Jules continued his joy. Look, a car!

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My living room, it was destroyed.

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But really that's nothing new.

Spiderman was feeling cool riding as a passenger in the batmobile.

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Adam looked over his kingdom of junk...I mean treasured toys.

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Jules loved this thing, he says it's a giant.

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And he's really friendly. I know this because he gave me a high five!

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I swear my kids own clothes, not just diapers. But you'll have to take my word for it since I never seem to get pictures of them in clothing.

I went back to talk to the husband, comfort him a bit. Then I found this.

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A Star Wars Pez dispenser. Oh wait, look!

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Fresh pez candy.

And by fresh, I mean ass load old. Yummy.

If we didn't have an ass load of cats, I'm pretty sure this forgotten food would mean mice or something. Maybe I should finally go down to the basement & find out what horrors are down there. That'd be a fun blog.

In other news, I somehow injured my shoulder. So I can't do much of anything with my right arm now, even laying on my back hurts. I did it somehow in my normal, daily activities. I tried to think up a cool way to say I hurt myself, but I couldn't come up with anything. I asked Adam to make up a story for me, & all he came up with was I hurt myself giving a hand job. Somehow, I think that's worse that doing it while washing my hair or opening a soda. I'd go to the doctor, but I'm seriously so paranoid about being labeled a medication seeker with a random pain that I can't really prove that I have, I refuse to go. So I'll just sit & bitch until it gets better. That's how I roll.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Alive, that's me!

Hi, peeps.

I've been busy.

By busy, I mean lazy as all hell. Tired, too. But, well, mainly lazy. Plus I've been trying to get pictures of all 12 of my cats for an upcoming blog. Hell of a task there.

If you hate me for being lazy, would you believe me if I told you we were invaded by gnomes?

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THEY EXIST! And they nurse. Weird.

Anyway. I wanted to check in & let people know I'm alive. We all are, & we're all well. Tired, busy, cranky, & sometimes bitchy (that's just me actually), but we are all well.

But hey, since I'm actually here, lets take a viewer question! Yes, I said viewer...because in my crazy mind I'm on like TV or something.

This one comes from a long time stalker, but new to admitting it. Welcome new but not really new stalker! And it's not really one, but it was one comment so let's not get fucking picky here, OK?

What other kinds of neighbors do you have?
Crazy. So crazy they seem to make the camo tarp woman seem normal. On the other side of our house we have Jim. I call him Jim because that's his name. He's a hermit. And I'm fairly sure a hoarder. He let's his yard stay a jungle, he has told Adam that he purposely kills his grass & just lays out that hamster bedding in his yard. His yard is so, uh, fruitful that in the summer you can't tell there is a fence, it's just covered in greenery. He's a "doctor" of something, my guess is insanity. He use to be a professor at the local university. Now he's just the crazy guy next door to us. He also has chains & locks on his gate. And two huge ass German Shepherds. They look like they'd eat children, but they are actually insanely sweet. Kinda sad really.

What kind of music do you listen to?
Hall & Oates. And no, I'm not joking. I rock out to that shit.

Do you like to read?
If it's juicy gossip, totally. If it's funny, usually. If it's deep & meaningful, another usually. If it's educational or Republican, no.

Do you follow sports? Does Adam?
No. Never been a sports person. I don't care to see dudes play with balls. Adam doesn't follow anything. Truth is, I'd never be able to marry someone who did watch people shoot hoopies or make goalies or downies or whatever the hell else there may be. There is only one time I care about sports & that is when Marshall University is playing. See, I live in the town with that place. Everyone looooove Marshall. But not me. So I root for whoever they are playing when they are playing here, so they loose for fucking up my travel plans through town. Last time they had a big game here, I hate to go out at 3am for medication for Blair & the streets were closed off, because the city was cleaning them to make people think they take care of this town. So it added another like 15 minutes to my trip, when I have a baby at home who needs medication. And the next day when the team lost that game, I laughed.

Follow up to your fall in the 'mart story? You know, the one where you fell forward, defying the laws of physics (sarcasm)?
Oh goodness. That shitty store called WALMART gave me a bullshit denial. How did they deny it? They said they were off the hook because the manager went to see where I fell & he could find nothing in the floor that I could have fallen on. Mind you, it was HOURS after my fall before he knew where I fell & by the time he knew where it had happened the floor was RIPPED UP because it was being remodeled. So how he was suppose to look for something where it no longer existed, I don't know. I'm fully convinced they think I just threw myself on the ground since I, like you said new stalker, defied the laws of physics.

BUT! This has given me a new, WalMart free life. After that bullshit, & the fact that no employee even helped my pregnant ass off the tile, I decided to finally accept that WalMart is an evil company who doesn't give a damn about anything. So I've not shopped at a WalMart since that incident. It means I can no longer do my shopping in one place & I pay more for some things, but I don't feel like a dirty whore when I'm done shopping, so that's a plus.

Of course, I'm still getting the short end of the shopping trip. For example, I took this picture at Target on October 26th.

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That says "use by 10/16/10." So at that point is the milk actually sour cream or cottage cheese? Just something to ponder.

And, also courtesy of Target, I must wonder...

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What exactly is one doing that they need a hand towel that reads, "naughty?"

I'm going to go chase down 9 more cats now.

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