For the last week or so I have been sick. Like annoying, coughing, nose running, feel like shit sick.
I've had plenty of time to think about this whole sick thing while I've been down & out and like usual, I have some shit to say about it.
I'm tired of taking, well, everything. I won't take a cough drop anymore. Nope. Not gonna do it. I don't care if it helps me stop coughing (it doesn't), it makes my entire mouth feel like I've blown a medical leprechaun. Seriously, it's like a Jager Bomb without the bomb. Or the orange juice after toothpaste thing. But it lasts all fucking day. Just no. I'll cough. Add the cold meds to the birth control, happy pills, antibiotics, thyroid meds & whatnot, I can't remember when to take what. I'm so confused I gave the Mini vaginal fungus cream (remember all the antibiotics I'm taking) to use on her hands. The good news, she won't have yeasty hands. Bad news, I missed out on that Mother of the Year award...again. Pfffffftttt.
Vicks vaporub. I love the smell of this shit, I don't care if it works or not. The problem here is, it only lasts about an hour. If I have to get up every hour and re-apply this stuff, I might as well save the $3.49 cause it makes me feel like someone blew a load on my chest. Really. It just feels like that.
Men. Don't get me wrong here, the SAB was a complete fucking saint while I was sick, HOWEVER, he made sure to get his digs in whenever he could. If I had to hear "Well, I wanted to go the movies but she was sick" or listen to him whine about how cranky I was one more time... I was considering just gagging on my own phlegm. Cause who asked you to hang around & do nothing while I was sick? Herein lies the real truth, the SAB loved it when I was sick cause it gave him an excuse to take care (do nothing) of me. And ya' know what? I appreciated the fuck outta that shit. Whatever the reason.
Almost no sex. This is bullshit. Oh we tried, I wasn't dead. The SAB actually said he didn't want to risk it because I'll start one of my coughing jags and pee all over the place. We ain't that kinky. But, seriously, somebody (get on that) needs to come up with a better way. Sicky Sex Machine has a nice ring.
The work thing. I hate calling in sick. It's like the worst. It's a waste of a personal day. A very wise man once told me "Never call in sick when you're really sick". I believe that shit. Sadly, I'm all old & sick & stuff. So, bye-bye personal days...
Kids. I hate kids. But it so much worse Mommy is sick. I'm fortunate that the Mini was with her Dad for the worst few days so I didn't feel bad about ignoring her. What? I feel badly when I'm forced to ignore her. It's totally different when I'm ignoring her just because.
The depression & guilt. I'm sure it isn't just me. When I'm sick I feel absolutely horrible about ALL THE THINGS. The cleaning that isn't getting done, the shopping, the Mini, the SAB, my crankiness, all the things. You get it. The guilt of not getting all the things done makes me depressed. So now it's all sicky, depressed, guilt filled, sexless, whiny, cranky, me.
The mouth. This has been by far the worst. My mouth tastes like I licked a dead donkey's dick. I taste nothing except rancid, rotting, nastiness. My tongue is covered in bacteria. I have scrubbed it so hard, the skin is peeling. I soak it in peroxide. Nothing like spitting up peroxide flavored foam to get your day going. Yes, the visual here is fabulous.
Lastly, I'm just tired. For the first 4 days of this glorious sick-o-rama, I was out and about, cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children. Being me doesn't stop for a cold. When I finally relinquished the Mini to her Dad, I laid sloth-like for 2 days. Guess what? I'm better. Not 100%, but better. Who knew rest actually worked? I may have to try that shit again.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Friday, December 20, 2013
PPB's Christmas Wish List
This...
- I wish all the people who live (part or full time) in Bananaland would eat less. Yes, there I said it. Eat fucking less. You fucking pigs eat everything in the damn house. I make the list, budget the money for the food, and shop for it. At the very least I should be able to see it sit on the shelf in the cupboard. For 24 hours. At least. Also, we’re poor, mostly because our grocery bill is larger than the national debt. So stop it.
- That all the people who sit around bitching about stuff (not Bananaland stuff people, real stuff) would get off their asses and do something about it. Change doesn’t happen unless you make it happen. It’s true. If you don’t like something – change it. If you can’t change it – change the way you react to it. If you can’t do either, you’re fucked.
- Could people stop taking EVERYTHING so seriously? Really. Life is short, kids. If you’re always out on a soapbox dishing about what everybody else should be doing, you probably aren’t doing anything. It’s one thing to stand behind something you believe and a whole other ditty when you begin ranting at everybody else for what they believe. Shut up. Not everyone believes in your religion, your thoughts on homosexuality, your political stance, or the way you raise your kids. Shocked? You must be. Quit being so touchy and laugh. Shit is funny. Remember, you aren’t getting out alive, lighten up.
- The word ‘fuck’ to always be capitalized. It should be. Just cause’.
- Cake should be available at all times. I like cake. Moist, delicious cake. What? I’m fat. And, I like cake.
- Everyone - make amends. Holding onto hurt, anger, pain, guilt, whatever, only affects you. If you think holding on to any of these is bothering someone else, you’ve got life fucked up on a platter. The only person it’s bothering is you. Also, if that’s why you’re holding on, you’re more fucked up than you realize and my hope is for you to contact a professional who can give you some counsel and or drugs. Seriously, they make some good ones (drugs) or so I’ve heard.
- I sincerely hope my (our) children (the Mini & Red) actually appreciate the time and effort that we went through for their Christmas surprise this year. I don’t think I can do another Christmas (or any other holiday) with ungrateful lil bitches. I said it. They are. Only one is my fault cause’…DNA. Gotta work on this. Hugetime. Shaddap, it’s my wish list.
- I wish that the autocorrect function on my phone would stop changing the word whore to who’re or white. This really pisses me off. I write the word whore a lot. “You’re a skanky who’re” just isn’t making it to the top of the cool things to say list.
- I hope that all the parents who buy their children iphones, just because, get pummeled by a giant iphone rain with no iumbrella. You deserve it. Santa thinks you’re assholes too. Yep, assholio. You.
- I want hot flashes to immediately be counteracted by a cool breeze. Like in the commercials. A field of wildflowers scented cool breeze.
- I really, really, really want Facebook to show my stuff. Really. Come on Zuckerfucker, isn’t your vendetta against all things Bananaland (yes, I made this up) over yet? People NEED my stuff. SHOWMESHOWMESHOWME. Please.
- I
wantNEED to be hairless from the neck down. This is real, folks. I hate hair. I told the SAB on the very first night we met. It still hasn’t happened. I stillwantNEED it. Real bad.
- Everybody to mind their own fucking business. This is huge. Quit trying to run everybody’s life because your own life sucks. You can’t make people do things. If you’re that fucking miserable and feel the need to butt your nose holes into everybody’s stuff, private message me. I know a bunch of complete fuckwads that need you (read: I need you to be) in their lives. I’ll give you their contact info. Good for you. Good for me.
- A vodka spout connected to my sink would really rock. Oh, and a never ending supply of vodka. Caramel vodka. Or, key lime whipped, or peppermint bark, or caramel apple, or really any kind. Vodka is good. Also, it has stopped me from killing. So really, it’s saving lives. Think insurance will cover this?
- And lastly, I hope that everyone (including me) has a better next year than they’ve had this year. Make it happen, kids. I’m counting on you.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
2013 Bananaland Christmas Letter
Each year for the past 15 years or so I have sent out a Christmas letter. Yes, a written letter inside a real Christmas card that you mail via USPS with a stamp. You remember, right?
Nobody reads that shit. I know because family members, friends, etc…will ask me shit. Shit that was in the letter. This year, I’ve decided I’m going to write my letter and post it here. On my blog. Cause you guys will read it. Well, some of you. Some is better than ‘the none’ who usually read it. So there.
2013 – Bananaland , a year in review… Our year began like it usually does. With too little money, no resolutions (disappointment & failure are for the birds, folks) and the kids. I hate kids.
The SAB and I began the year with a 3 day trip to Savannah, GA. It was our Christmas gift to each other. It was awesomewonderful and awesome & wonderful. We did none of the “touristy” bullshit. High priced stores, bars & restaurants on the river? We walked by ‘em. We’re poor. We hung in town. With the locals. At the bars & shit. Cause we rock. If you haven’t been there, you should go. Really. I know stuff.
I’ll be honest, I don’t think any other shit happened until around March when we spend the weekend in Mt. Dora, FL for the SAB’s birthday. There, we met Amy the fuck girl. Yep, that’s her name. Well, it’s the name we gave her. Cause, well, we couldn’t stop saying fuck. And she was there. So…Amy the fuck girl she became. She’s on the page. Pay attention. You’ll see her. She’s the reason that crazy fucking Bus Driver To Hell found me. Yep, small world.
Hold the phone! I totally forgot. In February, I met two of the most bestest friends I have ever known. Pink Fuzzy Slippers and My Hubby's Pants and It's Why You Like Me. (The Admins behind the page not the actual page cause that would be weird.) We talk every day. Seriously. Even though they are like really far away, they are great support and they’re both total bitches so we all rock together. XX, ladies.
Also in February, I quit my 2nd job. It was much needed relief. Even though we desperately needed the money, the time spent away from home was really affecting the Mini. Also, I was worn out, exhausted, abused and just plain tired. After 3.5 years of working two jobs, finally, I could live again. Yay.
In the spring, the SAB and I began the long drawn out process of taking care of our (really bad) finances so that we can begin anew. The SAB finished up his bankruptcy over the summer and mine should be complete around April, 2014. I will lose my house then so if any of you guys need some roommates - *waving* Totally kidding. About the roommate thing. (For now) We will be moving in with the Drunken Queen (my mommy). Yes, all of us. Living together. I’ll have lots to write about, snort!
We managed to save some pennies so that over the Summer we could take the little kids on a good old fashioned family vacation. Yeah, that sucked. We (Me, the SAB & the Drunken Queen) had a really fabulous time. Click here to read about vacation. The children, however, we’re not impressed. They whined, moaned, bitched, complained and acted like, well, kids. My feelings (Yes, I have them) were totally hurt. I know a week ONTHEBEACH at a beautiful resort with 2 pools, games, food, and did I mention ONTHEBEACH, is really shitty. These kids really did me in. I’m still not over it. We will NOT be taking them on another vacation for a good, long time. I hate kids.
We have been spending lots more time with the SAB’s oldest daughter, “my favorite”. Why is she “my favorite”? Because, she is grown and lives somewhere else. In all seriousness, she’s pretty cool. And did I mention that she’s grown and lives somewhere else?
In October the SAB’s parents moved from South Carolina back home to Florida. This pleases me even though I’m not a fan of parents in general. What? One of my original dating rules was to only date men whose parents were dead or lived out of the country. Don’t ask why. You KNOW. However, it pleases me cause’ we don’t have to go to the dreaded South Carolina to visit them anymore. Win!
This year instead of gifts we opted for a weekend trip (not a vacation) away with the little girls to visit museums and check out some cultural shit in Orlando. Much cheaper and just think of all the special memories we’ll create, AKA: I’ll have some good shit to write about next year. Oh and if you see them, don’t mention it. It’s a surprise. K? K.
The Mini is hangin’ in. Her grades are falling in a couple of classes this year. It may be the new Common Core Standards that have begun in the schools and it may be……puberty (She’s a total ass). And it may be her teacher who I think is an idiot. (She is) Whatever it is, it has been a rough fuckin’ year with this kid. Fer real. We have begun the whipping into shape.
Red continues to do well in school. Also, she has figured out how to complete a complete & utter smartass. It’s awesome. She’s really takin’ this mouthy kid thing all the way. Wait, we already had one of those (see above). *sigh* Thistooshallpass.
The SAB and I are doing well. Like very well. No, we’re still not married. Stop asking.
Looking forward to seeing some of you over the holiday…
Enjoy your holiday season and as you enter into the New Year, remember…DON’T BE A CUNT.
Nobody reads that shit. I know because family members, friends, etc…will ask me shit. Shit that was in the letter. This year, I’ve decided I’m going to write my letter and post it here. On my blog. Cause you guys will read it. Well, some of you. Some is better than ‘the none’ who usually read it. So there.
2013 – Bananaland , a year in review… Our year began like it usually does. With too little money, no resolutions (disappointment & failure are for the birds, folks) and the kids. I hate kids.
The SAB and I began the year with a 3 day trip to Savannah, GA. It was our Christmas gift to each other. It was awesomewonderful and awesome & wonderful. We did none of the “touristy” bullshit. High priced stores, bars & restaurants on the river? We walked by ‘em. We’re poor. We hung in town. With the locals. At the bars & shit. Cause we rock. If you haven’t been there, you should go. Really. I know stuff.
I’ll be honest, I don’t think any other shit happened until around March when we spend the weekend in Mt. Dora, FL for the SAB’s birthday. There, we met Amy the fuck girl. Yep, that’s her name. Well, it’s the name we gave her. Cause, well, we couldn’t stop saying fuck. And she was there. So…Amy the fuck girl she became. She’s on the page. Pay attention. You’ll see her. She’s the reason that crazy fucking Bus Driver To Hell found me. Yep, small world.
Hold the phone! I totally forgot. In February, I met two of the most bestest friends I have ever known. Pink Fuzzy Slippers and My Hubby's Pants and It's Why You Like Me. (The Admins behind the page not the actual page cause that would be weird.) We talk every day. Seriously. Even though they are like really far away, they are great support and they’re both total bitches so we all rock together. XX, ladies.
Also in February, I quit my 2nd job. It was much needed relief. Even though we desperately needed the money, the time spent away from home was really affecting the Mini. Also, I was worn out, exhausted, abused and just plain tired. After 3.5 years of working two jobs, finally, I could live again. Yay.
In the spring, the SAB and I began the long drawn out process of taking care of our (really bad) finances so that we can begin anew. The SAB finished up his bankruptcy over the summer and mine should be complete around April, 2014. I will lose my house then so if any of you guys need some roommates - *waving* Totally kidding. About the roommate thing. (For now) We will be moving in with the Drunken Queen (my mommy). Yes, all of us. Living together. I’ll have lots to write about, snort!
We managed to save some pennies so that over the Summer we could take the little kids on a good old fashioned family vacation. Yeah, that sucked. We (Me, the SAB & the Drunken Queen) had a really fabulous time. Click here to read about vacation. The children, however, we’re not impressed. They whined, moaned, bitched, complained and acted like, well, kids. My feelings (Yes, I have them) were totally hurt. I know a week ONTHEBEACH at a beautiful resort with 2 pools, games, food, and did I mention ONTHEBEACH, is really shitty. These kids really did me in. I’m still not over it. We will NOT be taking them on another vacation for a good, long time. I hate kids.
We have been spending lots more time with the SAB’s oldest daughter, “my favorite”. Why is she “my favorite”? Because, she is grown and lives somewhere else. In all seriousness, she’s pretty cool. And did I mention that she’s grown and lives somewhere else?
In October the SAB’s parents moved from South Carolina back home to Florida. This pleases me even though I’m not a fan of parents in general. What? One of my original dating rules was to only date men whose parents were dead or lived out of the country. Don’t ask why. You KNOW. However, it pleases me cause’ we don’t have to go to the dreaded South Carolina to visit them anymore. Win!
This year instead of gifts we opted for a weekend trip (not a vacation) away with the little girls to visit museums and check out some cultural shit in Orlando. Much cheaper and just think of all the special memories we’ll create, AKA: I’ll have some good shit to write about next year. Oh and if you see them, don’t mention it. It’s a surprise. K? K.
The Mini is hangin’ in. Her grades are falling in a couple of classes this year. It may be the new Common Core Standards that have begun in the schools and it may be……puberty (She’s a total ass). And it may be her teacher who I think is an idiot. (She is) Whatever it is, it has been a rough fuckin’ year with this kid. Fer real. We have begun the whipping into shape.
Red continues to do well in school. Also, she has figured out how to complete a complete & utter smartass. It’s awesome. She’s really takin’ this mouthy kid thing all the way. Wait, we already had one of those (see above). *sigh* Thistooshallpass.
The SAB and I are doing well. Like very well. No, we’re still not married. Stop asking.
Looking forward to seeing some of you over the holiday…
Enjoy your holiday season and as you enter into the New Year, remember…DON’T BE A CUNT.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Tattler Thursday!
Hey you guys! I'm co-hosting this blog hop. Again. Seriously, these bloggers must drink a lot to keep allowing me assist. Whatever, they rock, you rock, and we KNOW I rock so let's get goin. Link up all your social media stuff. Right down there. Down there. Scroll down. Do it! Tell your friends. - PPB
Hiya Snappers! Welcome back to the 28th week of the Tattler Thursday Blog and Social Network Hop!
It's time to tattle and hop!
Tweet about the Blog Hop HERE!
*Be Sure to Hop over to other blogs and visit/network and share the Hop
*Have fun Hopping! (and come back next week!)
Your Hostesses
The Co-Hostesses
Hiya Snappers! Welcome back to the 28th week of the Tattler Thursday Blog and Social Network Hop!
It's time to tattle and hop!
It's a share your crazy, gross, hilarious, in-the-trenches parenthood stories, or any tattle that you may want to share with us, that has nothing to do with kids, kind of blog hop! We love funny stories and we want to hear yours! You don't have to have kids to participate!
Just leave a comment with your story, post not required! So think of your funniest, wackiest or favorite stories, leave a comment with your story/tattle, follow your Hostesses and Co-Hostesses, visit and discover other blogs, and have fun!
|
The Rules are: | |
| 1- Follow Your Host and Co-Hostesses | |
| 2- Grab the button and display it on your blog or hop page/section | |
| 3- Leave a comment with a funny, wacky, or gross kid story/tattle |
*Be Sure to Hop over to other blogs and visit/network and share the Hop
*Have fun Hopping! (and come back next week!)
The Co-Hostesses
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
26th Tattler Thursday Blog & Social Network Hop!
Welcome everybody *waving frantically*! I'm so excited to be here co-hosting the Tattler Thursday Hop. Probably more excited than I should be. I'm a freak. Whatever. That doesn't change the fact that this is a great hop to share your all your social media links. I know stuff. I'll shut up now and you go and link up. Go head, do it. Don't forget to share a story! In the comments. Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezie! - PPB
Hiya Snappers! Welcome back to the 26th week of the Tattler Thursday Blog and Social Network Hop!
It's time to tattle and hop!
Tweet about the Blog Hop HERE!
*Be Sure to Hop over to other blogs and visit/network and share the Hop
*Have fun Hopping! (and come back next week!)
Your Hostesses
The Co-Hostesses
Hiya Snappers! Welcome back to the 26th week of the Tattler Thursday Blog and Social Network Hop!
It's time to tattle and hop!
It's a share your crazy, gross, hilarious, in-the-trenches parenthood stories, or any tattle that you may want to share with us, that has nothing to do with kids, kind of blog hop! We love funny stories and we want to hear yours! You don't have to have kids to participate!
Just leave a comment with your story, post not required! So think of your funniest, wackiest or favorite stories, leave a comment with your story/tattle, follow your Hostesses and Co-Hostesses, visit and discover other blogs, and have fun!
|
The Rules are: | |
| 1- Follow Your Host and Co-Hostesses | |
| 2- Grab the button and display it on your blog or hop page/section | |
| 3- Leave a comment with a funny, wacky, or gross kid story/tattle |
*Be Sure to Hop over to other blogs and visit/network and share the Hop
*Have fun Hopping! (and come back next week!)
The Co-Hostesses
Monday, October 28, 2013
Bananaland memories of Halloween...
Halloween is not my favorite holiday. Not even close. Like down the list somewhere after Labor Day cause at least ya get a day off work for Labor Day. It's just a lot of work, quite frankly. The dressing up, wandering around the neighborhood after dark (dark is scary) and lugging bag after bag of candy home? Wait a sec, it was pretty fuckin' fun. It always messed with my schedule though. I had stuff to do. Still do. Anyway, here's a few of my favorite Halloween memories. From when I wasn't so jaded and bitchy. And whatnot.
Halloween on a school day, in Westhaven (my hometown) - Get up way extra early and put on the costume that was designated for school (yes, costume to school) if you were one of the 'twocostumekids' (I was, sometimes). Go to school. Be too excited to do any work. Also, checking out everyone elses costume was a full-time job. Eat candy all day at school and get more candy while we had a Halloween Party. Yep, it was called a Halloween Party, not a Fall Festival. Halloween. We were in costumes. Witches, ghouls, all the shit. After school break out a bag you got at the school party and trick-or-treat your ass home. Hit home, eat some dinner, freshen up your costume or change into a new one and outthefuckindoorwego! Hit all the houses, and the good houses twice. What? A full size candy bar is worth a second trip. They shoulda known better. The houses with the cans of soda were popular too cause well we were thirsty as shit. Go home, let parents rape the shit outta my candy, take it in my room and organize it. By type, then size, then order in which it would be eaten. You didn't do that? I mighta had a lil OCD early on. MIGHTA.
Halloween party, at the Bananaland Homestead - The Drunken Queen invites like all the effing neighborhood kids (without my prior approval) to a Halloween Party. At our house. Costumes, apple bobbing, games, food, prizes. All the Halloween things. Great fun. I don't even remember what I was. The Drunken Queen was a witch. Go figure. I still have pictures from this party. Just none of me. That I remember anyway. Hunting down the pictures to check isn't on the agenda so I guess I'll never know. Until I do. Look for them, that is. Lots of adults. I'm guessing they all got drunk after the majority of the kids went home. Fuckers. I had to put my mouth on the same apple that some other kid had their mouth on. That's fucked up. I needed the drink. Really.
Costumes in Bananaland - The costumes I wore as a kid were always homemade. Always. There was always RIT dye, sewing, beads, baubles & all kindsa shit. So yeah, that was all cool and I was a princess one year and I was very lovely. The Drunken Queen wanted to me to be a witch and I must have been very young cause I asked what a witch was. The explanation I received gave me nightmares. Princess it was. Honestly, I can't even remember any of my subsequent Halloween costumes. Isn't that sad? I'm sure there are pictures but again, I'm lazy. I'm not spending an afternoon looking for pictures so I can remember shit that wasn't important enough to remember in the first place. Uh. No. Wait, my last Halloween as a kid, I was a... shit, I lost it. I honestly don't remember. As an adult I've been a cop (ha, but really), a clown (I wasn't scary), a prisoner (not of war, with the like the old-school black&white stripes), Viagra Man (yes, I was an old man with a boner AND a cape, don'tyoujudgeme) and a Sweepstakes Winner. I think my imagination got better as I got older. Or something. Also, even though I know the homemade costumes were the coolest, I always wanted a store bought costume! Dumbass right here. Complete dumbass.
Most every Halloween in Chicagoland - A coat would be worn over the costume. Sad but true. Kudos went to the kids who could work their coats into their costumes. They were smart. Me? Not so much. We've already learned of my lack of enthusiasm and imagination concerning costumes. This made it even easier. Who cares what costume I was cause I would be wearing a coat over it anyway. So, ha! Damn...one just came to me. I think I was a dancer once. Not a stripper, assholes, a Chorus Line type dancer. I think so. Or maybe it was a stripper. I just remember running ('running'- a long tear in pantyhose for those of you too young to remember) my black tights over & over and having to run home to change like 4 times. Who the hell knows? I remembered something. That counts. Sometimes a hat, scarf & gloves were necessary. Snow was not uncommon on Halloween. Looking back, I had a lot of opportunity to dress up as something really cool. I really was a shithead kid.
This year - The Mini has now decided that she is too old to partake in the activities on Halloween so I guess we are going to a 'family' get together to transition. Yes, for me. Too old for Halloween. I'm fucking old. Thank you, Mini.
Also, she says that's a lot walking just for candy. <-------------CrazyAssKid but I get it. Really I do.
Halloween on a school day, in Westhaven (my hometown) - Get up way extra early and put on the costume that was designated for school (yes, costume to school) if you were one of the 'twocostumekids' (I was, sometimes). Go to school. Be too excited to do any work. Also, checking out everyone elses costume was a full-time job. Eat candy all day at school and get more candy while we had a Halloween Party. Yep, it was called a Halloween Party, not a Fall Festival. Halloween. We were in costumes. Witches, ghouls, all the shit. After school break out a bag you got at the school party and trick-or-treat your ass home. Hit home, eat some dinner, freshen up your costume or change into a new one and outthefuckindoorwego! Hit all the houses, and the good houses twice. What? A full size candy bar is worth a second trip. They shoulda known better. The houses with the cans of soda were popular too cause well we were thirsty as shit. Go home, let parents rape the shit outta my candy, take it in my room and organize it. By type, then size, then order in which it would be eaten. You didn't do that? I mighta had a lil OCD early on. MIGHTA.
Halloween party, at the Bananaland Homestead - The Drunken Queen invites like all the effing neighborhood kids (without my prior approval) to a Halloween Party. At our house. Costumes, apple bobbing, games, food, prizes. All the Halloween things. Great fun. I don't even remember what I was. The Drunken Queen was a witch. Go figure. I still have pictures from this party. Just none of me. That I remember anyway. Hunting down the pictures to check isn't on the agenda so I guess I'll never know. Until I do. Look for them, that is. Lots of adults. I'm guessing they all got drunk after the majority of the kids went home. Fuckers. I had to put my mouth on the same apple that some other kid had their mouth on. That's fucked up. I needed the drink. Really.
Costumes in Bananaland - The costumes I wore as a kid were always homemade. Always. There was always RIT dye, sewing, beads, baubles & all kindsa shit. So yeah, that was all cool and I was a princess one year and I was very lovely. The Drunken Queen wanted to me to be a witch and I must have been very young cause I asked what a witch was. The explanation I received gave me nightmares. Princess it was. Honestly, I can't even remember any of my subsequent Halloween costumes. Isn't that sad? I'm sure there are pictures but again, I'm lazy. I'm not spending an afternoon looking for pictures so I can remember shit that wasn't important enough to remember in the first place. Uh. No. Wait, my last Halloween as a kid, I was a... shit, I lost it. I honestly don't remember. As an adult I've been a cop (ha, but really), a clown (I wasn't scary), a prisoner (not of war, with the like the old-school black&white stripes), Viagra Man (yes, I was an old man with a boner AND a cape, don'tyoujudgeme) and a Sweepstakes Winner. I think my imagination got better as I got older. Or something. Also, even though I know the homemade costumes were the coolest, I always wanted a store bought costume! Dumbass right here. Complete dumbass.
This year - The Mini has now decided that she is too old to partake in the activities on Halloween so I guess we are going to a 'family' get together to transition. Yes, for me. Too old for Halloween. I'm fucking old. Thank you, Mini.
Also, she says that's a lot walking just for candy. <-------------CrazyAssKid but I get it. Really I do.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
And there was the Mini
January 2002. I would be 32 years old that year. It was 4 months after the 9/11 attacks. I was unsure about everything except one thing. It was time for me to have a baby. I didn’t want to be the old droopy ass Momma at my kid’s graduation. You know - the one with the cane and hearing aids. If I was gonna’ do this whole baby thing it had to be quick, fast, and in a hurry. Got me?
On March 3rd, 2002 after visiting the Doc for a bladder infection, the Doc called and said I was preggers. They did a test while I was there because I had told them I stopped my birth control and apparently, a bladder infection is one of many pre pregnancy indications. Who knew? Anyway, hot damn…I was with child. WTF does with child actually mean? Technically, the child was with me. I'm right, right? Whatever, I was gonna’ be somebody’s Mom. Wahoo!
I did all the things that newly pregnant Moms do. Got the books, found a doctor, and decided what I was and what I wasn’t going to do. You know - that stuff. It was a bit overwhelming for an OCD overachiever such as me. I was 3 months pregnant and painting the kitchen. What? The baby couldn’t be seeing all kindsa ugly kitchen paint. I read ALL THE BOOKS, got ALL THE THINGS, got the nursery painted & ready, and took a quick 14 day trip to Europe at 7 months. Again, what? I know you’re crinkling up your noses. Normally I wouldn’t have chosen to galavant all over the world during my pregnancy, however, the trip was offered (thank you DRUNKEN QUEEN) and I knew once I had a BABY, I wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while so…I went. So there.
I had no idea how many visits to the Doctor having a baby entailed. It was a lot. I went. I had chosen not to know the sex of the baby. Stop shaking your head at the screen. I love surprises and it’s very rare that I get surprised so I created my own. Also, we (the ex & I) just didn’t want to know. I passed on all those extra tests for Down Syndrome & the like as well. I just didn’t feel it necessary to know all that stuff. I figured I’d deal with it as it came. You know…let go, let God. Whatever kinda baby I got? I was gonna’ love and be happy with, regardless.
My lil bundle of joy was due November 1st. On Wednesday November 13th, I was admitted to the hospital to prepare to be induced (make the baby come out) the next morning. That. Didn’t. Happen. The following (brief) description of the horror of baby-having should not be read by expectant Mothers or people who possess a penis on their person. Or, maybe it should. It’s the truth.
I got some good sleepy drugs and fell out around 10pm. Around 1am I began to feel pains similar to having an animal claw it's way out of my belly, using their teeth & nails. Nurses came, Doctor came, stuff started to happen. The dumbass kid was flipped on its belly but that shouldn’t be a problem, they said. Anesthesiologist comes to give me my drugs. Yay. Or not. Now, I’m all about taking the drugs if you need them but heed my warning, this was by far the most uncomfortable thing I have ever experienced and I got to do it twice. Yep, twice. Listen up. First Epidural? Didn’t work. I felt everything. It was awesome. Yes, that was sarcasm. Anyhow, we (I) gave it a go. I pushed and did all that stuff. This kid wasn’t coming out. Also, I was screaming. Out loud. Apparently the thingamajig they had jammed up my snatch to hold me open, slipped. Yes, slipped and landed on a nerve. My nerve. I assure you, this hurt. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The pain on the nerve and a baby trying to shoot out my vag was more than I could take. The screaming was necessary. Anesthesiologist back in, administers 2nd Epidural (eww). Now the precious kid who is on its belly ain’t coming out. There was more pushing, forceps, all the tools & toys aaaaaand… nothing. Guess who had an emergency C-section? Only after calling the anesthesiologist a liar and all kinds of other bad names that I had to hear about later, from my Doctor. Oooops.
I wake up in the recovery room several hours later. Keep in mind, I don’t know what kind of baby I’ve just had cut out of me and I was kinda itching to find out. I remember seeing the nurse and the first words out of my mouth were “What is it”? She knew exactly what I meant and told me I had a baby girl. All I can remember is the extreme feeling of relief. Yay, it doesn’t have a penis! Sorry, I'm from an all girl family, I guess subconsciously I wanted a girl???
I wasn’t allowed to get up and/or move but they wheeled me into the baby room and wheeled her up next to me and I saw MY BABY GIRL. My first thought? She’s pretty. Sorry, most babies are ugly as hell. I called everybody to tell them my baby wasn’t ugly. Her head was round, she had lots of hair, no ugly bumps on her face and she was cute as could be. Phew. It could have been the morphine they had me on but whatever.
It wasn’t until several hours later that I actually got to hold her and it was like total magic. That whole baby-mama bonding thing was real. She was bawling her damn head off when they brought her to me and as soon they held her up and she saw me, all was good. I'm sure I probably smelled like food or something, however, our eyes met and SHABLAM! It was love at first sight.
The kid has been trying to crawl back in the womb ever since. - PPB
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