Category Archives: Not the one

Almost Winter Blues

I’ve been feeling a certain type of way.
A lonely kind of way.
All different shades of blue.
No escape, no light in sight…

Just sadness. But the type if sadness you feel creeping in. Slowly, but it’s there, like a knot in your throat. There’s been no consoling me. Mostly because I should be happy, content, at peace.

It’s crazy, really.

Maybe it’s the weather. But I’m in for a long, cold winter, and the forecast is looking grim.

Bah, humbug.

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Scarlet letter X.

I’m going to make this short and sweet.

My future mother-in-law is kind of a bitch. And, I’m only adding the kind of because sometimes my fiance glances at my blog.

But how does this woman who is 1,432 miles away manage to make my life absolutely miserable, still?

I’ve read countless of articles and books and they all say to let go. Let go. Move on. That’s all sunshine and rainbows in theory. I’d love nothing more than to forget or forgive the insults and nasty actions taken upon me by her. I would love to somehow rationalize the way she blatantly manipulates my fiance because well, I’m your mother and so you’ll deal with my nastiness and I’ll disown you for leaving me at 30 years old and starting a family.

I’ll insult you and push you off to the side when you have no job. I won’t bother asking if you or your pregnant fiance need anything because I don’t give 2 shits that you two are under a lot of stress and have only enough money to eat .99 tacos at Jack in the Box every day. Nope. I’ll keep updating my status to show people that I practically live in Beverly Hills and that anything else is beneath me. After all, I am a lady of society.

I’ll keep partying and dressing like I’m 21 and then send you pictures of me in tight, leopard dresses so you can tell me I look better than the younger girls I’m clubbing with. I’ll criticizing you and make fun of you nonstop for being with that bitch because I need my rent paid and someone to babysit your brother while I’m out attending events. I need to interrupt you and call you through the wee AM hours to get your attention. I’ll send you texts saying game’s over and anything else I can think of to upset you.

I’ll make you ditch your fiance on Christmas Eve. I won’t go visit my granddaughter who lives 10 minutes away from me because she’ll be there. I’ll start acting like I give a fuck once I know you’re working again and my birthday or any holidays are coming up. I’ll finally want to get closer to Em because she’s a pretty, personality filled toddler who feeds my ego. Yes, she looks nothing like her mom. Thank god. She’s beautiful and all things great obviously because now, I’m her grandmother.

I would love to free myself from the hatred this woman has implanted in my heart. I would love to hug her, have lunch with her, go shopping. I would be smitten with her if she accepted Lo and treated her like another granddaughter. After all, my fiance and her younger son are also from two different dads. I’m no more a whore than she is. Let’s bond over our failed relationships.

She once told my fiance that I was a disrespectful, uneducated girl for not fawning all over her. She said that she would never kiss my ass. Well future mama-in-law, the feeling is mutual. I’ll never kiss your ass, either. I’ve seen it once while you were wearing a miniskirt and bending over and it’s not very appealing. Much like your personality.

Shit, I’m supposed to be letting go.

Fuck.

The babysitting box.

Dear parents who let their kids watch tv,

How dare you? I mean, what kind of people are you? Don’t you know that there’s all kinds of scientific and godly data showing that kids that watch tv turn into murdering assholes who can’t sit still? The fuck is wrong with you?

Oh shut it already.

I, like many other moms and dads, run around like crazy 24/7 after my children. I’m not complaining. I know what I got myself into but parenting is a job like any other, and in any other job, you get breaks. By law, you get your well deserved breaks. Now correct me if I’m wrong but I can’t think of many other jobs that are equally as exhausting and mentally draining as parenthood.

In what other blue collar job or fancy career are you forced to be the head of every single department and be solely responsible for executing everything from cooking, cleaning, planning, finance, and all and everything in between?

My toddler, still, does not sleep through the night. She’s 21 months. I’ve tried all of the suggestions in the world. I’m running on fumes here and still expected to do everything else. I do, half-assed most of the time but it gets done. The one thing I have in my favor is my fiance. He helps, he’s pretty spectacular.

Sometimes, I want to have coffee and update my blog. Sometimes, I turn on the tv so I can have 5-10 minutes to make my coffee and toast in peace. Most of the time neither of them will sit through more than one show, instead they’ll run around , playing and driving me nuts.

You do what you gotta do. If turning on the tv means you get some much needed moments of silence, peace, shower time (while making sure your child is safe, duh), then by all means, use the box. It was invented for a reason.

Twins, people. Twins.

I’ve been a little quiet lately. Here’s why, enjoy.

Last Thursday my fiance and I decided to drive to an abortion clinic after a whole lot of puke and 2 positive pregnancy tests. Yes, I found out that I was pregnant with twins as I was scheduling my surgery. No, I’m not having the abortion after all. Before you start judging me understand that I’m thirty, not living in the best financial state, with two girls to care for, zero patience, no desire whatsoever to party, and an unsupportive family. Just 2 weeks ago my father called to accuse me of running a drug den and predicted that in 2 years I’d be living under a bridge with nothing but a grocery cart full of plastic bags, if I was lucky.

I guess you can say they won’t be thrilled to find out about my pregnancy which is exactly why I’m not telling them. In fact all they’ve told me since having my youngest is don’t have another child, don’t have another child, you can’t have another child, forget about us if you have another child. You can’t even handle or provide for the ones you have, DON’T HAVE ANOTHER CHILD.

With all due respect ‘rents, fuck you. And if you don’t want to be a part of their lives that’s fine with me. I’m tired of being treated like a 15 year old. I’m fucking fed up with people telling me what’s right for me or what I can or can’t handle. That’s why I’m not telling anyone. I plan on announcing our little blessings the day I give birth. I figure it won’t be too hard since all my acquaintances live in CA and no one I know has any idea of this blog.

So there. That’s my story. Please don’t tell me what a fucking cunt I was for considering abortion or how selfish or negligent or less of a human I am. I also don’t want to hear how these kids are a blessing because right now I have two running around, screaming, and driving me fucking crazy. I don’t want to hear how God has a plan or doesn’t give anyone more than they can handle type of religious bullshit. I don’t want anyone’s opinion. All I want is some fucking respect and a box full of donuts.

The end.

Glass houses.

I’m sick to my stomach.

I don’t understand how women, especially mothers, can be so hateful towards one another.

I decided to participate in two threads on Facebook today. One from Parents.com and the other from 24/7 Moms.

The question on Parents was, what’s for breakfast? Of course, right away I saw things like organic eggs, fresh baked bread, homemade jelly… blah fuck blah. So of course I responded that my kids were going to have organic free range brown eggs, local organic milk from a glass bottle, fresh baked gluten free bread, and homemade organic no sugar added strawberry jelly.

The fuck they are. I ended my comment with AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT. She’s having cereal, not stale, if she’s lucky.

OMG worst mother ever, don’t you know cereal has additives? It’s the worst food ever. What kind of mother are you? My kids are having fresh maple syrup along with their fancy from scratch pancakes and brown eggs I picked this morning topped off with fresh fruit from my organic garden.

Listen ladies, get of my nuts cause they’re peanuts and you’re probably allergic.

I applaud you for having the time, patience, and culinary skills to make breakfast a perfect Instagram and Pinterest photo opt each morning but I shower maybe once a week and I’m tired from breastfeeding all night.

The next post was on 24/7 Moms, it was a woman asking for ADVICE and contemplating abortion. She is a woman of 30 with a small baby and a husband who recently got laid off and is also recovering from surgery.

MURDER. SELFISH. BE RESPONSIBLE. GUILT. HOW DARE YOU?

Really, ladies? Really, fellow mothers of the world? This is your definition of advice?

The poor woman is already depressed, I doubt she needs to hear what a fucking scumbag she is for THINKING about abortion.

Who the fuck made all these women perfect? They all have to be vegans. They all need to STFU and show some empathy.

Pro-life, pro-choice, whatever your beliefs are… Show some respect. Life is hard enough as it is.

Respect, aiight? Give some and get some.

Beans and rice.

Once upon a time I was vegan.

It was a short but sweet affair, one that I still hold dear to this day.

It’s as if I was running through a green, leafy forest with a crown of wild flowers in my hair, only feasting on fresh fruit and veggies, all in touch with nature and shit. It was beautiful. I even bought a little lamb necklace and shirt that said Give Peas a Chance. I was legit.

But then a road trip happened. A last minute, unprepared road trip from hell. I was ripped from my magical Fern Gully forest and sent through a concrete jungle of golden arches and heavily botoxed Kings urging me to have it my way. There were palm trees and milkshakes and I caved in. I succumbed to temptation disguised as two beef patties. I was powerless against the secret sauce and milkshakes.

I left behind my beans and rice with the excuse that it would be ok as long as my meat was humanely treated. As if being held captive and then murdered is ever humane.

For the past couple of weeks I’ve been reading paleo logic, vegetarian logic, vegan logic. I decided to listen to my body.

Meat has been losing it’s appeal to me. I’ve never really liked the texture and refuse to touch raw meat, but the taste of a well cooked steak could take me to taste bud heaven. Lately though, not so much. That and with all the articles I’ve read this week concerning it’s safety and origin I’m kind of wanting to go back to my old love.

I have nothing against meat eaters, fruitarians, paleo crossfitters… Peace and respect, I say.

Today I go back to fruits, veggies, legumes and the occasional celebratory dairy product because that is the best version of ME.

Live, love, laugh.

Oh, and here’s to Mayweather getting his ass kicked! Cheers!

Bleh.

Bleh.

Today sucks.

It just does.

So I’ll look at happy pictures and listen to happy songs and put a happy smile on my face.

I’ll take a moment to remember that today is wonderful regardless of all the downs we’ve faced lately because we’re alive, healthy, and together.

Ok seriously, I look like the poster child for People of Walmart and no amount of caffeine or dark chocolate will get me out of my pajamas. But yeah, life is beautiful so appreciate what you have and don’t let a bad day keep you from dreaming.

Live, love, laugh and give someone a hug today. Hugs cure everything.