Free Range Blogger

Are we still in high school?

2012-02-05T14:28:00.000-05:00

I received a private message from 4 (yes, FOUR) people who felt they needed to tell me several things they thought were wrong with me. In a GROUP message, no less. After being very ugly, I was actually called stupid. First, I have an IQ of 136. Second, I have so much to worry about on a daily basis that I joke around to ease some stress. Third, I cuss like a sailor. No apologies will be forthcoming for this.

Now, AGAIN, if you don't like me or what I post, why send me a message? There is an unfriend button that will take care of this. I'm not a friends collector. I have narrowed my list down repeatedly to people I genuinely like and enjoy interacting with. If I find that it's not working with someone, I don't message them or talk bad behind their back....I unfriend them and move on. Does this upset some people? Yes. Do they talk bad about me? Apparently so, because I get messages from the ones they talk to. Does this upset me in ANY WAY? Not. At. All.

See, my self esteem doesn't ride on who likes me or who thinks I'm nice or funny. I have a healthy sense of self-worth and I realize that sometimes people don't click. AND THAT'S OKAY. Know why? Because I'm an adult. I'm mature. I've got enough to worry about without facebook causing more problems for me. Now, what I would ask of anyone who doesn't like me is to unfriend me and move on instead of trying to create drama. I'M NOT INTERESTED.

So, if you find yourself rolling your eyes at my post, or messaging others about me, move on. I don't want any part of you or your high school bullshit. Really.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. To those who don't do any of the above, I appreciate you. Truly.

The Big Move To Massachusetts

2011-10-28T08:35:00.000-04:00

(Note- I did NOT write this. A friend sent it to me in an email earlier this year.)

August 15 - Moved to our new home in Massachusetts . It's so beautiful here. The lake to the north looks so majestic. I can hardly wait to see it snow covered. I'm going to love it here!

October 14 - Massachusetts is definitely the most beautiful place on earth. The leaves have turned all the colors and shades of red and orange. Went for a ride through the park and saw some deer. They are so graceful. Certainly they are the most wonderful animals on earth. This must be paradise, I LOVE IT HERE!!!!

October 25 - Deer season will start soon. I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill such a gorgeous animal. Hope it will snow soon. I love it here. Those red and orange leaves have covered my yard. Looks like a magnificent multi-colored carpet. HOW BEAUTIFUL. Raking and cleaning up the yard will be an opportunity for invigorating exercise in the cool crisp air.

November 1 - Ah, more leaves and more exercise.

November 8 - Jesus, still more leaves. Guess it's best to wait until they've all fallen before I rake again.

November 15 - Finally, all of the trees lost their leaves and with today's final raking it's over for this season. Chiropractor suggested I use a lawn maintenance service next year. Only four blisters became infected. Should probably remember to use gloves.

November 30 - What the f--k? Where did all of those leaves come from? Had a little wind last night and the lawn is covered again. Oh well, they'll just have to wait until spring.

December 12 - It snowed last night, FINALLY. Woke up to find everything blanketed in white. It looks like a postcard. We went outside and cleaned the snow off the steps and shoveled the driveway. Had a snowball fight (I won) and when the snowplow came by we had to shovel the end of the driveway again. What a beautiful place. I Love Massachusetts !

December 14 - More snow last night, I love it. The snow plow did his trick to the driveway again. I Love it here.

December 19 - More snow again last night. Can't get out of the driveway. Can't get to work. I'm exhausted from shoveling. F--king snowplow.

December 22 - More of that white shit fell again last night. As if dealing with the leaves weren't bad enough, now I've got blisters all over my hands from shoveling, must remember to wear gloves. I think the snowplow hides around the corner and waits until I'm finished shoveling the driveway. The asshole.

December 25 - Merry F--king Christmas. More frigging snow. If I ever get my hands on that son-of-a-bitch who drives the snowplow, I swear I'll kill the bastard. Don't know why they don't use more salt on the roads to melt the f--king ice.

December 27 - More white shit last night. Have been inside for three days except for shoveling out the driveway after that plow goes through every time. F--king gloves got wet and then froze on my hands. Doctor said it was just a mild case of frost bite, disfiguration is probably only temporary. Can't go anywhere, car is stuck in a mountain of white shit. The weatherman says to expect another 10 inches of the shit tonight. Do you know how many shovels full of snow 10 inches is?

December 28 - The f--king weatherman was wrong. We got 34 inches of that white shit. At this rate it won't melt 'till summer. The plow got stuck up the road and the bastard came to the door and asked to borrow a shovel. After I told him I'd already broken six of them shoveling all the shit he pushed into the driveway, I broke my last one on his f-king head.

January 4 - Finally got out of the house today. Went to the store to get food and on the way back I hit a damned deer that ran in front of my car. Did about $3000 damage. F--king beasts should be killed. Wish the hunters had killed them all last November.

March 3 - Took the car to the garage in town. The thing is rusting out from all the f--king salt they put all over the roads.

March 10 - Moved to Palm Springs, California. I can't imagine why anyone in their right mind would ever live in that God forsaken state of Massachusetts .

.

I've got your back, kid

2011-10-13T09:55:00.001-04:00

My daughter is one of the coolest people I've ever known and I'm not even being biased. Not even a little. She's the only person I can have a completely nonsensical conversation with and we both get it. The conversations are usually out there, but the one this morning takes the cake. Where does it take the cake, you ask? Down to the bakery to see the other cakes. (Thanks, George Carlin.) Moving right along...let me share our conversation this morning:

V: I want a squirrel. A black squirrel. That way I can be cooler than the other kids because no one has a black squirrel. They're really rare.

Me: Where would you keep your awesome squirrel? Not in the house, I hope.

V: Of course not. I'd keep him outside and before school I'd have him latch onto my cheek so he can be my new accessory. That way when I walk into school everyone will say "Oooooo! She's so COOL! She has a squirrel on her cheek. I want one!!"

Me: I think squirrels have rabies, baby.

V: Even BETTER!! Then I can be a zombie!!!

Me: Zombies eat people.

V: That might be why I want to lick your face.

Me: You should be a writer, you're so creative.

V: So can I?

Me: What?

V: Lick your face.

Me: How about a kiss instead?

V: FINE, but once I'm a zombie you won't have a choice.

Me: I'll keep that in mind.

Some people might think this kind of exchange is odd, but not me. Everyday of my life is fun and interesting because of my girl. I hope she never loses her creativity or her vivid imagination. She reminds me that life is meant for enjoying and that black zombie squirrels go great with anything.

For V

We're gonna be rich

2011-10-12T09:40:00.003-04:00

I'm trying to stop swearing. In my first attempt at behavior modification, I put a rubber band on my wrist and popped it whenever I swore. 24 hours later my wrist was red, swollen and probably only one pop away from bleeding. Then I remembered the Budweiser commercial where everyone has to put a quarter in a jar when they cuss at work...

Brilliant. I've put a jar out and I imagine we'll be rich soon. Writing swear words isn't the same as actually swearing, is it?

I'll let you know how it works out.

LET'S CALL THE WHOLE THING OFF

2011-10-11T17:15:00.001-04:00

Facebook has become a bitch. I've narrowed my friends list down to considerably less than it used to be thinking that would stop the random hate. I was wrong.

Most recently I had someone send me a private message berating me for my post about how some girls look like hookers. Well, my language was an issue. And that I say whatever I want. Last time I checked it was 2011, motherfucker, so I can say whatever I want. But this isn't the point of this post.

The point is I might move to my blog permanently. Sure, I'll be held more accountable for spelling, grammar and other such nonsense that has no place on FB, but I can deal with it. It sure beats the hell out of people who never post on FB, but watch in the background waiting to attack. These people never put themselves on the line with their thoughts or views. They're what I like to call 'background haters'.

At least on a blog I won't know the haters who attack. That I can live with. But people who I thought were friends launching a behind-the-scenes attack? No, thank you.

Also, people aren't forced to read a blog. It's not like it will pop-up in their news feed. Coming here and reading what I have to say will be a complete choice. That feels better to me. So visit my blog if you like. I'll be here chillin'.

The Fresh Beat Band

2011-07-19T07:38:00.001-04:00

As parents, we are forced to watch our children's shows. Some I've come to love, some I despise with every ounce of my being, but all of them I watch. There's something to be said for turning on our children's shows early in the morning and hearing the familiar voices and music. I depend on them to entertain my child while I get my coffee and fully wake up. They can be incredibly annoying but always helpful. Sooooooo, imagine my surprise when I turned on the TV this morning and.....

Marina from the Fresh Beat Band is no longer Marina! She's been replaced!! WTH?! Okay, now listen, I have never been a huge fan of this show. Their peppyness and over the top I'm-high-as-a-kite smiles are a bit much....but they are the FBB. I know each of them and have come to accept them. And wait a minute, haven't they only been around for like a year?! How do replace someone after only a year?!?

My mind reeling from the shock, I get into research mode. I'm hurt. My favorite member of the most annoying band on earth is gone and I'm left feeling heartache. Why, I'll never know, but it is what it is, and now it must make sense to me. Why, Marina?? WHY?!?!

Okay, so after extensive research, it turns out SHE left the show. Apparently she's getting married and trying to advance her career. Hmph. Now I don't like Marina so much. What is she teaching our kids? That it's okay to bail after a couple of seasons to move onto bigger and better things? To abandon us parents who rely on their ridiculousness to keep our kids entertained so we can get coffee in our bloodstream and become human.....wait, maybe she's not teaching them THAT, but you parents know what I mean.

Whatever her reasons, she better not think for one minute that her obvious replacement has any of us fooled. Well, the replacement fooled my son, but not me! I'm left feeling betrayed and hurt. Out of the four of them, she was the only one I could stomach. But, whatever. I hope you have a long and happy marriage and career, Marina. Thanks for walking into my Nick, Jr. life and leaving me broken. Just...just...whatever. ***sobbing***

^^Who the fuck is that!?!?!^^

If You Believe It, You'll See It

2011-05-24T11:07:00.000-04:00

My sister sent me a text message this morning. I happened to be driving when she sent this, so I grabbed my phone and read it quickly before putting my phone down. It said that we should all look for the beauty in the world, others, and ourselves today. Then I looked up and saw a vineyard that I pass by everyday. Beneath the vines there was a sea of yellow wildflowers. For the first time I really SAW this place. And I cried. Maybe because I have driven past this place so many times before and never noticed how beautiful it was.

Or maybe because the world suddenly seemed beautiful to me.

Both of my children were in the car, and when I glanced at them, I felt overcome. They are so sweet and, yes, so beautiful. I'm thankful for the text message because, for a moment, all I saw was beauty. In everything and everyone. Even myself. For that, I am so thankful.

I'm Tired

2011-05-10T08:56:00.001-04:00

I haven't written in a long time because I've been going through something. Actually, a few somethings. And I've been going through them for a long time. But my ability to cope is wearing thin.

Usually I am able to laugh at life. Laugh at how incredibly ridiculous it can be. When things seem bleak and full of despair, I can pull myself up by my bootstraps and laugh out loud. I can see the hilarity of it all and I can keep on going. My ability to do this is waning. My ability to smile is waning. My ability to be everybody's anchor is all but a memory.

I'm tired. Emotionally, physically and everything in-between. I'm tired of pretending that I don't feel sad by what life has dealt me. I'm tired of saying, "Suck it up, girl, millions have it so much worse." I know they do. I know that, damn it. But it doesn't make my pain any less.

I'm just tired. I need someone to be MY champion. I need someone to hold me while I cry until I have nothing left. I need someone to take the reins for a while so I can get some balance. I need someone to listen. To hear me. To understand.

So I write this now to vent. To release the pressure valve before it explodes. This way I can put it out to the universe and hope it answers my prayers. Because I'm tired.

2011-04-26T16:51:00.000-04:00

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like breaking out into song? Today was that kinda day for me. This was my song of choice. Enjoy...

Sleepless In Massachusetts

2011-03-16T13:35:00.001-04:00

I don't sleep very much, but it's not for lack of trying. We keep our room fairly cool, and have a very comfortable mattress, so it's not that. We even bought 'luxury' bedding in an attempt to help me sleep. (FYI- save your money.) So what's the problem? It's complicated, but I'll try to explain...

My husband hogs the covers and my cat sleeps on my head. There. I said it. So maybe it's not that complicated, but it is frustrating. Let's take a closer look at these wildly irritating factors:

#1) My husband hogs the covers. When we get ready for bed all is well. I have my fair share of the blanket, and I'm feeling optimistic that I'll be able to sleep through the night. He even promises that tonight will be the night that his reign of cover-hogging-terror will come to an end. It doesn't matter that he has promised this unsuccessfully for the last few years, I believe him. So, in my highly optimistic mood, I kiss him goodnight and he rolls over. He falls asleep quickly and begins to make these content little "I'm asleep and it's SOOO heavenly" noises. Over the course of the next hour he successfully wraps himself up in all of the covers and then starts to twitch. My frustration mounts as I slowly begin to freeze to death. But, hey, at least he's cozy.

#2) My cat sleeps on my head. Before you even say it, I've tried. I've locked him out of the room, to which he slips his paw underneath the door and rattles it...loudly. I've locked him up in the 'cat room' (aka-the laundry room) and he howls this soulful howl that can only be fully appreciated in person. This leaves me with two options: I can (a) let him out, or (b) spend the next morning answering questions down at the police station. (Apparently, a strange howling sound coming from your house is enough to make the neighbors suspicious and call the cops.) I decide to take the path of least resistance and let him out. After fending him off for a while, I manage to fall asleep. Long story short, I wake up, he's on my head and I'm breathing in cat hair. To say I feel irritated is an understatement. I push him off, roll onto my side...

...and come face-to-face with my hubby. He's rolled up so tightly that I'm worried he might slip into an oxygen-deprived coma. (Albeit, a warm and cozy oxygen-deprived coma, but a coma nonetheless.) He's also smacking his lips in sweet slumbering bliss. I feel my eye start to twitch. He promised!! It doesn't matter that he's asleep and unaware of his breach in our verbal contract. He. PROMISED.

All the different ways I can reclaim a small amount of the covers start flashing through my mind. But, honestly, is it worth it? It'll just start the process all over again and I'm too tired and irritated for that. So, I give up and roll onto my back. As if on cue, my cat crawls back to my pillow and lays on my head. I've read that you lose most of your heat through your head, so at least my head is warm. That's something, right? RIGHT?!?

Oh, well. There's always tomorrow night...

Mardi Gras in New Orleans

2011-03-08T11:28:00.001-05:00

While I am from Louisiana, I'm not from New Orleans. And while Mardi Gras is celebrated all over Louisiana, to truly experience it you have to go to New Orleans. The French Quarter is like a city unto itself. People are packed in there shoulder-to-shoulder and 95 percent of them are drunk and/or in costume. You'll find every balcony full of spectators waiting for women to flash them. Some balconies have even been known to have bras covering them. From beginning to end, Bourbon Street is filled with music, laughter and plenty of alcohol. If you find yourself there, you must get a Hurricane or a Hand Grenade. Just be sure you have someone who can help you get into a cab and safely back to your hotel room.

Then there are the parades. Everyone is screaming, "Throw me something, mister!" and smiling from ear-to-ear. People are jumping all over each other trying to get whatever happens to be flying off of the float. If you are lucky enough to catch the good stuff, you feel like you've struck gold. You just can't go to Mardi Gras without going to a parade. It's a major part of the experience.

Now, to an outsider, it might seem like Mardi Gras is a big drunk-fest. Perhaps, but it's so much more. It's about celebrating life, enjoying the good things and being with friends. It's an attitude that all Louisianians have and we're proud of it. People come from all over the U.S. (and the world) to experience it. They come to let go of their cares and enjoy the spirit that is Mardi Gras. Natives of this great state are some of the nicest, most hospitable people you'll ever meet. And, boy, do we know how to throw a party.

I really miss it. I miss the celebration, the king cakes, and not being able to move my head because of the many beads around my neck. I want to push my way down Bourbon Street, have a hurricane and go to a parade. I want to ride a trolley at night. Hear the street musicians play. Eat the best food in the world and be around my people. New Orleans is a place that once you've visited, you'll spend the rest of your life trying to get back. After all, you can leave New Orleans, but it'll never leave you.

Happy Mardi Gras, y'all!

A Question Answered

2011-03-04T15:50:00.004-05:00

I don't like expressing my true feelings. In fact, I hide them under a lot of sarcasm and joking. But I'm going to put that part of me aside for a moment and tell you how I really feel about something. As I said before, my son is autistic. On occasion, I've had people ask me what it's like to have an autistic child. So I'm going to tell you and I'm going to be honest.

I knew he was autistic before he was officially diagnosed. You'd think that would have prepared me for it in some small way, but you'd be wrong. The only appointment that I took my son to by myself was also the last appointment that I took him to by myself. Before you can receive certain types of help for autistic children, you need them to be diagnosed. But I had no idea that it would be on that particular day. We arrived at the doctor's office and were taken to exam room. After what seemed like an eternity, the neurologist came in and began playing with my son. Asking him to give him a high-five, or throw him the ball. He even asked him what his name was. My son could do none of these things. I already knew that he couldn't, but watching someone ask him to do them and seeing him be unable to, well, no words can explain what a parent feels. Fear comes to mind, but it's so much more than that. No matter what you think you know, or how you think you've prepared yourself, NOTHING can lessen the impact of that single word, "Autism."

At first it didn't even register. It wasn't until I noticed the doctor looking at me intently that I finally realized he'd just diagnosed my son...and it was what I'd known all along. I sobbed deep in my chest, and surprisingly, the doctor cried with me. He offered me a tissue and sat silently by my side. He didn't try to leave the room or try to tell me that "it'll be okay". He did me the biggest honor he could have done by letting me begin the mourning process. I'll never forget that day. And I'll never forget the doctor who took off his doctor's 'hat' and became a friend.

I don't remember walking to the car. I barely remember getting on the interstate to begin the hour-long drive home. But I clearly remember calling my husband. Through ragged breaths, I told him what had happened. Out of respect for him I'll leave that part out, but you can imagine how devastated he felt.

Over the next couple of days I realized that my fear could not...no, scratch that... my fear WOULD NOT stop me from getting him the help he needed. I called my sister (a teacher) and asked for guidance. She told me who to call and what to ask for. We made a laundry list of appointments with various doctors and school officials. Our journey with Autism had begun and there was no going back. Over the next 18 months, my son had a crew of incredible people come together and help him out. These people are angels who've performed miracles. Their love, compassion and patience have restored my faith in humanity. Because of them, my son has gone from being a completely non-verbal child, to one who laughs, cries and demands his milk. He knows numbers, colors, shapes and so much more. He now looks us in the eye and says "I love you." Something I used to only dream (and pray) about. Our lives are so completely different from the day he was diagnosed. And all for the better.

So to answer the question of what it's like, here goes... As any parent knows, our love for our children is unconditional and absolute. A big part of our lives is hope. Mine is a hope that people will not judge him as he grows up. That they will be compassionate, patient and loving. Another part is having a child incapable of understanding evil. I don't know why Autistic children are like this, but they are...and it's a God-send. Past that, it's scary. It's always wondering what life will be like for him as an adult. What it will be like after we're gone. It's heart-breaking, but it's also inspiring. To see him make strides and progress on a daily basis is what life is all about. This is the life of any parent, really. To see your child grow and to experience it with them. To lift them up and comfort them when they're down. To be their advocate. Their champion. Our son may face special challenges, but we're no different than any other parents. We have the same hopes and the same dreams. We share some of the same fears that cause us all to lose sleep at night. We laugh. We cry. So what does it mean to be the parent of an autistic child? It means the same thing that being a parent means to you. Everything.

Top Ten Reasons I'll Cut A B*tch

2011-03-03T19:18:00.002-05:00

While there are more than ten, these are the most likely to have me throwing knives:

1) If you hurt my family. (This one really belongs on the Top Ten Reasons I'll Kill A Bitch, but since death can be caused by cutting, it can be double-listed.)

2) Non-parents who feel the need to advise you on child-rearing. Unless you have a child, put a pacifier in it. You don't know what the hell you're talking about.

3) Telling me how I really feel, even though I just told you how I REALLY feel. So, unless you're one of my multiple personalities, sit down and shut it.

4) Inconsiderate people. For example, people who don't wave when you let them in traffic. If you're guilty of this, I should have the right to slam into you and push you off the road. No questions asked. No jail time served.

5) Telemarketers who keep calling your house long after being told to put you on their do-not-call list. (A whistle works nicely here.)

6) A restaurant that doesn't have mashed potatoes on the menu. So what if it's a Chinese restaurant. Stir fry some brocolli and throw it on a pile of mashed 'taters. De-freakin-licious. Who's with me on this one?

7) One-uppers. I don't care that you think your life is so much cooler than mine. Or that you drive an outrageously priced luxury automobile. Your need to one-up me makes you a candidate for a cuttin'.

8) People who think you're stupid because you're from the South. We ain't stupid. Them schools done learned us real nice. So back off, or I'll introduce you to some lovely folks called 'Swamp People'.

9) Ordering a steak well-done and getting it rare. If it's mooing when you bring it out, it'll be returned for a fully dead cow. (*Note-Having a steak knife at-the-ready makes for an easy cuttin' in this situation.)

10) Smurfs.

Again, this isn't a complete list, but it covers the basics. So if we're ever hanging out, be respectful of the list.

Sugar Is The Devil And You Shouldn't Talk To Strangers

2011-03-01T09:59:00.002-05:00

I recently started low-carbing when it became very obvious I have a sugar addiction. I was rummaging through the refrigerator/pantry/medicine cabinet looking for a fix (doesn't Nyquil have sugar in it?) and after not being able to locate even a sugary cough drop, I started contemplating throwing on a coat and heading to the grocery store. Nevermind that it's the middle of the night and everyone else is asleep. I could slip out, load up on the stuff, get back, and no one would be the wiser...

Of course, my rational mind beats down the door to my irrational mind and starts making a case as to why this is a bad idea. What if I die in a horrific car crash in my quest to get ~~crack~~ sugar? Is it worth risking my life for? Yes? Okay, how about this-changing out of my pajamas would wake my hubby up and he would surely talk me out of going. (Thanks, Mr. Responsible.) Then I'd have to knock him out, tuck him back into bed, and the next morning try to convince him that he had a terrible nightmare.

Pajamas it is.

But what about opening the garage door...it might wake everyone up. That's a no-go.

Ride my bike? It's 21 degrees outside with a wind chill of 10. Not happening.

Call the grocery store and promise to pay them obscene amounts of money if they'll deliver?!? Wait a minute. Didn't the grocery store close at 10pm? Hmmmm.....

This goes on for almost an hour before I accept temporary defeat and crawl back into bed. It'll be there tomorrow and I'll be sure to buy enough to make it last for weeks!!!

Now do you see why sugar is the devil? Instead of sleeping and getting well rested for the next day, I'm trying to talk myself into risking my life (possibly on a bike) while wearing mix-matched pajamas. And if that doesn't work, paying a stranger to secretly deliver the goods to my house in the middle of the night. Crazy talk.

So, low-carb it is. The first week, currently the one I'm on, is the hardest. But I can do it. I'm going to get to a point where I look at sugar and say, "It's over, you white devil. It's not me, it's you." Oh, what a glorious day that will be! I get giddy just thinking about it.

Now, what's this about talking to strangers? Simple. You shouldn't do it.

Sweet dreams...

Loop Of Despair

2011-02-26T13:03:00.002-05:00

Massachusetts has a lot of Rotaries. In fact, the intersections aren't intersections at all-they're rotaries. And they can be tricky. Not necessarily because they are difficult to navigate, but more of a mindset you have to have. A fearless, I-don't-give-a-shit attitude. Why? Because you're risking your life every time you merge into one of these things. But after living here for over a year, I'm amazed at how far I've come in terms of psychologically navigating them.

Now keep in mind, I'm from the South. Even in the larger cities 'down yonder', people still don't drive like the folks up here. Things just move slower. From the speed people drive to the speed people conversate, it's just slo-wer. And I like it that way. So imagine my surprise when I approached my first rotary. So naive, so trusting, so about-to-be-scarred-for-life...

At the time our Jeep still had South Carolina plates on it. We didn't know it then, but this actually brought us A LOT of extra grief. If you don't have MA plates the locals have far less patience with you, than say, another newbie with these magical plates. MA plates deflect suspicion. They throw the locals off your scent. It makes the locals assume that you probably know what you're doing because, after all, you have MA plates. It's akin to knowing the secret handshake that gets you into their 'club'.

So I pull up to this rotary without a care in the world. I pause at the entrance-something you should never do-and check over my shoulder...HONK HONK HONK HONK...I hit my head on the roof of the car I jumped so high. People were actually throwing their hands up in the air, flipping me off, and screaming at me through their rolled-up windows. So I punch it, and dodge three cars while trying to get to the inside of the loop (where the false sense of safety beckons me). I make it, but now tears are streaming down my face. I obviously made a wrong turn somewhere and ended up right in the middle of HELL. I actually had to make three trips around that thing before I finally worked up the nerve to get out. And get out I did, but not without psychological repercussions. For two months after that fateful day my hubby drove us everywhere. I couldn't do it. The rotaries were all around me and they were mocking. me. *shudder*

Fast forward a year-and-a-half...

I've adapted. I've overcome. It's survival of the fittest up here and I intend to survive. When I approach a rotary now I don't stop and look over my shoulder. I punch it and know that people will get out of my way. They have to because they've trained me well and now I'm one of THEM. I have MA license plates and a 'screw you' attitude. I blend. But come summertime, when all of the tourists show up, I feel a twinge of sadness. I see them try to merge into a rotary and part of me wants to slow down and wave them in. To reassure them that while I may be one of 'them', I wasn't always one. I want to give them a ray of hope in this harsh place, this...Loop of Despair.

But, I realize that doing so would alert the natives that I might be an imposter. That at one time I was warm-blooded. Had a heart. Emotions. A soul. I can't let this happen. Out of self-preservation I let the feeling pass. I push down on the gas pedal and forget about them. Because at the end of the day, and when it's all said and done, I'm now a Masshole.

Try To Keep Up

2011-02-25T09:16:00.000-05:00

My daughter and I have been told we have the most bizarre conversations. Apparently, we'll start off on one topic and end up in a place so strange, that unless you think like we do (i.e.-have ADD or a suspected case of ADHD) you won't be able to keep up. There have been times where my hubby will start off in the conversation, even following along nicely, but after a while we'll notice he's no longer involved. As if on cue, we both glance over to see what's going on...why the silence? What we find staring back at us is a wide-eyed look of disbelief and confusion. This is what follows:

Us: What's wrong? Why are you looking at us like that?

Hubby: Seriously? You do realize you started off talking about homework and ended up talking about why tater tots are the best invention EVAR!! Right?

Us: *long pause while my daughter and I glance back and forth at each other* AND?

Hubby: I can't keep up.

Not understanding the problem, but also not ready to abandon our conversation, we'll ignore the seeming interruption and carry on. After all, tater tots ARE the best invention ever. They have the perfect balance of crispiness and greasiness, and when you dip them in ice-cold ketchup? Heaven. But enough about that, did you see how fast the dog can run??

Okay, so maybe after actually typing that out I ~~don't~~ ~~can't~~ understand his confusion...a little. You see, no matter where the conversation starts with us, we're easily able to follow each other's thinking. It doesn't matter where it goes, or whatever the quickly changing topic is, we get it. We get each other. Sometimes I don't have to say a word. I'll look over at her and we both just burst out laughing. She saw what I saw, she knew what I was thinking, and yep, she thought it was hilarious, too.

It's called synergy and we have it. When seperated, we consist of completely inconsistent thoughts and words. But when we come together, it's the perfect storm. Two halves making a whole. Our combined efforts produce what I can only describe as a magnificent work of art. Or to the casual observer, a really weird conversation. Whatever. It makes sense to us, and if you want to be a part of it feel free to jump on in.

But please, don't weigh us down with your completely rational, logical, 1+1=2 way of thinking. Go with the flow. Expect the unexpected. Prepare to take your mind in directions that you've never dreamt of. But more importantly, try to keep up.

(Note--No rational-minded people were harmed in the making of this post.)

We're Not A Normal Family

2011-02-24T12:35:00.000-05:00

We look pretty normal. Act pretty normal. We even smell nice. Sometimes. But as we like to say to those just entering our lives, Welcome to the Show. Let me introduce, in no particular order, my family members:

Hubby- A man of great humor, patience and practicality, who works his butt off everyday so that I can be a stay-at-home mom. He will do anything for us and ask for nothing in return. He's the best dad/step-dad my children could ask for. Our anchor in the storm. Basically, he's made of awesome.

Daughter- A brilliant, witty, back-talking 10-year-old who I'm convinced has ADHD. She enjoys tea, the 'boy' toys that come in McDonald's Happy Meals (because she's a tomboy and why did she have to be born a girl anyway??!!) and buying huge cages to link together for her hamster. Did I mention she was brilliant? And quite beautiful-inside and out. She's from my first marriage and she's my first TRUE love. Also made of awesome.

Son- A 4-year-old that loves to smile and laugh. He also loves anything that lights up or makes noise. He knows his numbers 1-10, the alphabet, the colors and the shapes. (Up-to-and-including hexagon and all those other -agons. Pretty impressive for a 4 year-old.) He is incredibly beautiful and sweet. He's also autistic. And yes, he's totally made of awesome.

Me- I think I'm the reason we're not normal. I KNOW I have ADD. I have a quick temper and I love to laugh. I cuss like a sailor and my heart is proudly displayed on my sleeve for all to see. I believe people are good and life is made up of pink clouds and rainbows. But that's me at my best. At my worst, I can be dramatic and easily upset. I know that I'm the Captain of my family's emotional ship and that they follow my lead, so I do my best to keep it on an even-keel. But I'm human and flawed. I'm an overprotective mom who lives off of coffee, little-to-no sleep and all the sugar I can get my hands on. So naturally there will be some sleep-deprived, sugar-induced hallucinations and/or illogical thinking on my part. I accept it. I'm not completely made of awesome but I AM surrounded by it, so I aspire.

Dog- A miniature Dachshund that refuses to use the restroom outside. We can walk him around for 20 minutes and he might squeeze out a few drops (only to convince you he doesn't REALLY need to go, so would you please go back inside now??) so we bring him back inside, he disappears for a few minutes, then reappears with a bounce in his step. We fall for it every time. He's 12 pounds of poop-producing, carpet-ruining awesome.

Cat- A fat, black cat that my sister found behind her apartment complex years ago. She offered him to me and I accepted. One of my better decisions as he has brought more hilarity into this house than I can squeeze into this 'about' paragraph. He's a lover or a fighter depending on his swiftly changing moods. (The irony of me accepting a cat with this type of personality has not been lost on me, by the way.) He's 20 pounds of "I know I'm awesome so bow before me, pet me when I demand it, and while your at it, change my litter, bitch" awesome. Wouldn't be the same without him.

Hamster- It's a fucking rat. But for some reason my sweet girl loves this thing and spends every dollar she makes from allowance on it. It has two HUGE cages connected by an elaborate maze of tubes. It also has two wheels to run on, two houses to sleep in, two food bowls to eat out of, two water bottles to drink from and two playrooms to play (?) in. Which means twice as much shit to deal with when this thing ~~hopefully~~ dies in a year or two. But at least we already have a burial plot. (This isn't our first hamster rodeo.) Now, is he MADE of awesome? As long as he stays in his cage and doesn't get mauled by the cat and therefore induce massive amounts of heartache for my daughter, I'll call him awesome. But made of awesome? Let's not get ridiculous. That thing is one step away from spreading disease and pestilence.

Anyway, that's all of us. I write about them so that you will have some background, some understanding of who they are for future posts. Somehow we come together and form the best, most beautiful family I could have ever hoped for. I dedicate this blog to them. Wherever it goes, and no matter what craziness ensues, I do it for them. Should you honor me by reading it and taking the journey with me, well, Welcome to the Show.