Awe hell no.

Diva is just making messes & my back hurts too damn bad, & I am just too tired.

I floundered onto the sofa. The dishes – every single one, were cleaned. Before dinner. I have a stack now, but Hub emptied the dishwasher, so I can just load them in the machine in the morning & voila! Done, again!

On his way into the living area, he put Diva’s toys into the assorted boxes (another task I did while they napped, so I’m feeling pretty accomplished), then turned on some Richard Marx, & danced with Diva to “Hold On To The Night”. It was so sweet, even though that song normally makes me want to wretch. 

For dinner, I made an excellent Thai Bouillabaisse – I modified the recipe from others I’d seen, so I’ll post that recipe later if, and that’s a big IF, I get her to sleep before I crash.

Having 3 hours to clean, organize, & tidy while getting to listen to my music was the best therapy imaginable. For the 1st time in 3 years, I felt ok, centered, okay, in control, secure, strong, independent, wholely me, & at peace. Cleaning & listening to music was my routine. It was what I knew. It’s what I did while Boo was at his dad’s, and what I did for myself. I need a clean, organized, and at least tidy house, to function.  This is my norm. My peace. What I have been missing.

The apartment is far from done, but I have hope. I have a list & a plan. And bit by bit, I will prevail.

Yup. My OCD is every bit in control. And it has been. Which is the root of my anger & frustration. Poor Diva didn’t ask for a crazy mom. Boo knows me. He knows me a little too well, actually. He know precisely how to distract me to evade punishment. He knows how to pull my heartstrings to get his way, he usually knows exactly what I mean by what I say when others would scratch their heads in confusion, he knows when to leave me alone, & always knows when I need a hug. But that door swings both ways. He was my whole universe for 5 years. And I was his. Now we gotta train two newbies. But we’re getting there. Marriage, blending families, & adding a baby, now toddler just throws ya for a loop. Add to it psychological & neurological disorders, & it takes a little longer. But every day is a part of our journey. And the way I do it, it’s a real adventure

But just when I felt pretty good about today, my son just called to say goodnight, & the happy that rained down when I heard his sweet little voice – damn. You just gotta get that kind of happy!! I feel like I may choke on it, then burst into flames. Love it.

Love it, love it, love it! I’m just gonna wallow it that happy for a while.

Peace bitches. May happy jump on your face this week!

Sincere apologies

I, once again, have shrunk into a radio silence, & I truly apologize to all of you. I hate beginning with an apology, but I believe that when one is deserved, it must be said. I am learning that. I tend to give my loved ones back-handed apologies, rather than accept the blame. No excuses. I blog, and try to daily, even a quick blurb, just something, & I failed.

First off, I am in desperate need of my Vyvsnse. I have been all over the board, and just cannot seem to slow down. As I wrote those two sentences, I could feel a dozen or so thoughts pushing their way to the front of the line, shoving & shouting “me next”. My thoughts are like a room full of kindergarteners waiting to go outside, or to sit on Santa’s lap. It has become gradually more difficult to function, and so my obession with lists is being fed by my utter dependence on them.

New diet for me & Hub, which means a healthy lifestyle we will be teaching our kids. He & I have set out to each lose 30lbs. In the past 4 days I have lost 6, so I’m pretty happy. As of yesterday, Hub 4. Not a crash diet, either. A new way of looking at food. Not as comfort,  but instead as fuel for our bodies. What are the essentials we must have? And for me, while still appearing & tasting fantastic. And I’ve said goodbye to my daily homage to wine. And for my one & a half cocktail yesterday, I needed to burn some extra calories if I hoped to eat dinner. We have begun using an ap called “Lose It”, & it is amazing. I highly recommend it.

Since turning 30 with the birth of my son, I have behun to understand the struggle most people have with weight. Up to that point, I was clueless. I could eat as much of anything I wanted, & still wear children’s clothing. I was a 00 in adult clothing. I remember after delivering my son asking my OBG what “that” was, jabbing at a flabby abdomen. He looked at my now ex-husband, then back at me and said, “remember how I kept telling you to slow down on eating? Well, that my dear – is fat.” I remember a panic washing over me. It took 3 hard years to get & keep it off, & by my 2nd marriage, I was back into a 0.  I will be happy if I can get to a 4 again. And that is my goal. I have a very small bone structure, & that is the size I should be.

My GREAT uncle Doug died this past week. He was my mom’s uncle, but they were so close in age, he was more like my uncle. He was deployed during Desert Storm when I was in High School, & so we became pen pals to keep up his moral. He thought I should be his uncle, as our family didn’t keep with formal titles, so me addressing him as a “great” was just fodder for his older brothers and his platoon that he was the “great” uncle. And he was. He was quick witted, & balls out. He was always cracking jokes, & I only saw him solemn once, for about 2 minutes when my grandfather died. He had a slow Oklahoma drawl, & the things that came out of his mouth just made you laugh or shake your head.

Our last conversation ended with me promising to come visit so he could meet my new husband & son. His health was too bad for him to make the drive to Texas. The next year, Diva had just been born, so a 4 hour drive would be too hard for us. I thought we had more time. His death was sudden & unexpected. It has been too much for me to handle. He & his wife never had much, & lived very simply. He was cremated before I could say goodbye. Which broke a little chunk of my heart when I found out last night. I wanted to flop on the bed & cry . . . But Diva needed me to be Mommy. So I did. He wouldn’t want a big fuss. Hell, he wouldn’t want a fuss at all. He was the only child out of 10 siblings that didn’t have children. He wanted to adopt his wife’s son, but the tribal elders (Native American) forbid it.

When my mother called me early Friday morning, I began crying. Boo began asking if I was ok. I couldn’t answer. He came over & hugged me. I finally told him my uncle had died, and he & Diva both gave me a hug.

He is becoming a young man. I watch in amazed wonder. How did he get here? Wasn’t he fitting in my hand just a few days ago? Didn’t he just ask me if he really had to grow up, crying that he never wanted to leave me? Nine, in just over a month away? Third grade in mere weeks? Multiplication & cursive? This one big year is here. He is starting to have leg hair. And using deodorant & face product. It is going to be an emotional year.  So each remaining day of this summer will be swimming & playing. And we have homework every night (to get him back in the swing of things). And I have Cub Scouts to get ramped up.

But before that – vacation!! I booked a hotel on the Riverwalk. This will be our first family vacation. Even Diva is excited. Yes, we should be saving for a house. Fuck it. YOLO! And I want our lives to be fillled with happy & happy memories more than things. We can buy a less expensive home. But this year, this vacation, we will all look back & remember. I still have a lot of planning to do.

It would be easy & understandable for me to maintain some radio silence, but I gotta get my happy – even in the chaos. And to remind you to grab yours, too. Life is precious, & we never know when our time is up, or worse, your best friend, or favorite uncle. So I encourage you to treat your body better, & make time for the ones you love, not excuses. And start good habits & family traditions.

I had a lot of happy stored up when I got handed the info about the “already cremated” bit last night. Diva’s godmother had popped by for a 2 hour swim yesterday. It was great to see her & hear all her family plans going on.

Write an actual letter to friends too far to visit, or skype with relatives. They are worth it. Because when they are gone, you will have gotten it all in. No regrets.

Peace to you all.

Worse in person


Believe me. It is much worse in person. It is physically impossible to maneuver one’s self from one side to the other – any other – side without stepping on something.

And what kept me from having a total meltdown, complete with tightened chest & hyperventilating, was my wondrous, hyperbolic daughter smiling peacefully at seeing me return home to her. That smile has brought great calm to me today, & hearing my son having so much fun with Hub’s has kept me from pulling out my freshly-styled hair.

Tonight, looking at this hell-pit, I can say unabashedly – HAPPY WON!!

GET YOUR HAPPY! Be joyous. And live moment by moment. I hate the irrational fears. And too often I allow them to dictate my day, or else fall victim to my silly obsessions.  Nobody is going to die from my messy floors. I actually believe that right now. No harm will come. I’m not talking long-term psychological damage – (shit, uuugh, gotta fight that thought now) – but a friend or family member being murdered because my floor is messy (gross understatement). But I am calling that fear out.

I swear, having OCD is, at times, like a bad horror movie. You know you shouldn’t stand near the window, but you’re helpless to move – because you’re cast to stand there. It just has to be that way. And your very thoughts consume your will to fight back, then all your fears mount up against you, and you do anything you can to quieten those fear monsters – rock, pull hair, tripple check the doors – all doors, wash & rewash hands, clean, clean, clean.

Well a big fuck you, irrational fear. Nothing horrible will happen because I let my kids have the best time today . . . Or if I don’t literally break my back cleaning it tonight. I’m gonna enjoy some snuggle time with my guys while Diva sleeps. Because life is far too precious to waste, or idly watch happy slip by unrealized or enjoyed.

Peace, bitches!

Get you happy. OCD can wait.

Untitled Mess

I returned from my hair appointment a bit ago. I imagined it would be bad, but as I got out of my car, I could hear screams of elation coming from the second floor. My son opened the front door & graciously welcomed me home. Nothing prepared me for such a sweet welcome from Diva. She was genuinely happy to see me.

I walked through the sea of toys, food, & towels (a soda was knocked over) covering the floor to let Hub’s see . . . Bombarded by chatter from all three. Something about diahrea for a disputed amount of time. As I bent over to kiss Hubs, Diva interrupted to show me something. Something on her fingertip. And it was doo-doo brown.

Dayuuum. Dayuuum. Daaaayuuuuuum!

So we head upstairs to change her diaper, which she’d “fixed” about half an hour prior, and get the shit off her finger, while explaining we don’t put our hand in our diaper.  I’d fed them lunch before I left, but they were starving upon my return. And, needless to say, no nap for Diva. There had been video games, bad behavior, lots of fun, some punishments, but Hubs enjoyed spending time w/ the kids. Win!

I got Diva squared away, & served up some snacks. My hair looks amazing. I even put on makeup.  My back was not loving sitting still for 2.5 hours, though, & so I took a muscle relaxer, & am now sleepy as all hell. But we broke the base, added platinum highlights, & finished with a gorgeous toner. Love it!! Even Diva touched my hair & said “oooohh.”

Get your happy, & don’t let OCD snatch it away. Cleaning & decluttering can wait. Kids aren’t kids long enough – so let them enjoy wallowing in toys a while.

Peace bitches!

Snagged another one.


And for those of us dealing with neurological issues like OCD, this simple idea can seem like an impossibility.

I’ll be happy when my kids behave, when they mind, when my house is clean, when I have a home, when Jaguars become more reliable, when everything is the way I envision, when everyone follows my plans . . . And that is just a crap-way to live. I am trying like hell to just be. To let my kids be. And just sit back & let all of my obsessions entertain themselves in a corner somewhere.

It is a conscious effort, & at times, I lose. Some days are epic failures of truly legendary purportions. But I decided I will try for happy over tidy, fun over filing. Things can wait. Life goes by much too fast, and that happy is all that makes life awesome. When you focus on controlling everything, you always leave out room for spontaneous enjoyment. So for today, try to get some happy, & allow yourself to enjoy it.

Boo & Diva are running through the living, dining, & kitchen areas. And I will enjoy them playing together until one starts crying.


Hey, dammit!

I am 39 & a half. At the store, I’m not carded, as I appear to be 40 or older – easy. What the fuck?? However, I let it go. But today, my doctor shows me my spine, & tells me I have arthritis.

I’ve never been kicked in the teeth. However, I imagine that is what it feels like. To find out the excruciating pain is from fucking arthritis. Damn, fucking, shit! And one vertebrae appears to have a fracture, but will confer with the radiologist, but hopes I won’t need surgery or a cast. What the fuck?  I was just hoping for a refill on that miracle cream, & maybe a script for some massages. Massages are nice.

Arthritis. Are you fucking kidding me? Obviously, you can tell I am still processing this, & presently I am in the “extremely pissed of” stage of acceptance. A few serious car accidents, & one time getting thrown off a horse, & one time breaking my tail bone as a kid, & so I fell down the stairs . . . And my body gets arthritis? Man this sucks. I have a two-year old, for fuck’s sake. I really can’t deal with having arthritis now. Not yet. Maybe after my grandchildren are teens. Not yet.

That being said, a shot of steroid works wonders. Whole body aches, but no writhing agony at the moment. No numbness or tingling, either, which is good.

How I got here: The fracture inflamed the arthritis, as best I can understand, and that, in-turn, caused muscle spasms & inflammation, which smooshed (like my word?) some nerves. Ahh geez.

It’s the unexpected. That damn blind-side. I didn’t know arthritis or a fractured vertebrae were even “on the table”. It has been a day, ya’ll. I don’t think I am going to like being 40. I’m very apprehensive that there could be more things I haven’t worried about or mentally prepared for. And that sucks. But before I go get my medical encyclopedia for shit that breaks after 40, and launch into a full blown panic attack, fuck it. Why? I’m a tough mother, & I will take it all in stride (I have wine & insurance for meds). I kinda have to. Living still beats the alternative, so with my “big girl panties on,” I say “bring it!” I’ll get through it & whatever else comes. And I will snag happy all along the way – every chance I get!!

All I can say is “seriously?” Fucking seriously? On the upside, Diva was an angel (for the most part) today. She’s having a total meltdown now, so I will tend to her, then get ready for tomorrow, & take all my old lady medicine before turning in for the night. Grab your happy with both hands & shake that mother till glitter hits you on the face & flies up your nose.

Peace, bitches!

What day is it?

Well, shrink has me up to 3 pills a day & am supposed to do 4 if I can tollerate it. The bad thing is that with every increase, I become more aggitated, & my OCD worsens for a few days before it calms down. We agreed my rage is the first issue to get controlled. We’ll come back to the OCD, as I have stated before, I am an “extreme” case, so I’ll be in her chair for a WHILE getting my shit resolved.

And today, I have been seriously considering just saying fuck it. I’m broken. Deal with it. Diva has been especially trying today. Plus, sleeping on my parents’ guest bed really screwed up my back & neck. Yeah, you can keep that tempurpedic bed shit. I feel like I was thrown from a horse, then hit by a semi!!

Was considering going to my doctor, but the addition of heavy pain killers is less than appealing. May buy a TENS unit, since I have extensive experience with them & know how & where to use it. Plus Hubs might feel better, too. Sound investment, I think. 

Boo has been at his dad’s all week. When I complained, I got to hear, “but you see him all the time.”

Let’s look at that. Well, Ex gets busy with his life & skips getting my son. A lot. So fine. I do get him more than we agreed to, which is all the more reason to stay living so far away from him. However, my son is reaching those pivotal years, which just makes me cry because he shoukd still be 5 . . . I digress . . . Those years when a young boy NEEDS his dad around, even if said dad is a complete knob. So, the house hunt to move closer continues. What is best for my son trumps my selfish desire to keep him to myself. Plus, when he’s here, he is either antagonizing his sister or hiding out from her. So fine. He can stay with his dad this whole week without me getting all bent outta shape.

So, Diva now wants to always go to her room, which she shares with me & Hubs, & she says “night night,” but in no way actually implies she has any inclination of actually going “night-night,” it merely means she wants to go fuck up the mess of a room where we sleep. In order to get her way, I told her she must clean up the living room.

I be damned if she didn’t have all of her shit put away in 5 minutes! I also learned today she loathes “time-out” worse than Lucifer detests the Gospel. Plus, she learned “me” today, & when she points to her things, she says “me”. It’s a work-in-progress, folks. Hubs & I have her talking! Huge win!! She loves red & points it out (very loudly) whenever she sees it. And says “lo” for hello & “hi”. Houston, we have lift off!! This all seems miniscule to someone NOT battling the “terrible two’s”, but friend, let me tell you – it is a fucking nightmare.

I read Mike Rowe’s S.W.E.A.T. pledge. And brother, being a housewife has taught me more than I ever wanted to know. I think he should do a Dirty Jobs show about being a housewife. I mean, it gets dirty, can be scary, people’s lives are at stake, & it is exhausting as it is rewarding. I gotta hand it to him, though, it does give me perspective on my career as a housewife. And all of my previous jobs helped prep me for this, but parenthood is just . . . At times, cruel & unusual punishment. And other times, the best high you can get. There is simply no drug that could come close. I suppose heroin, because it is so addictive, like little giggles & tight neck hugs. I’m trying like hell for my damn happy, alright?

Today, I feel like a prisoner. My whole body aches, my mind is mush, & I just want tomorrow to be filled with an Alaskan crab ship full of happy.

I hear Diva coughing upstairs, so guess I’ll close with this nugget: store up your happy. And when you’re in a shit storm, know with all of your being that it will pass, you will get through, & just keep hoping for another shitload of happy to get dumped on you like a wrecked manure truck!

Peace, bitches.

Lots on my mind

Okay. I’m trying the deep breathing & cold water . . . Per shrink. Meds still working.

Although I do believe I had a mild heart attack Monday night – lol. Took Diva FOUR FUCKING HOURS to go to sleep. Are you fucking kidding me? I seriously about stroked out trying to keep from killing her. My son. And my mom’s dog. And their home phone. Who has a home phone? And why? Oh, to wake my toddler. Yeah. Seems legit.

I haven’t seen Boo since I dropped him w/ his dad Tuesday morning. Fucking sinus drainage is making me delightful, yet the only screams today have been from Diva. I haven’t even been close to losing my shit. And that is awesome. Even though my ears & throat are killing me. And my damn bersitis in my right hip is literally kicking my ass. I’m here, & I’m in control. And my GI spasms are really getting old. I’m okay.

Pool water was like . . . Dayum? Ice crystals??  But after dinner I asked Diva what the best part of today was: she stopped to think, then she started waving her hands & singing. I asked if it was singing & she grabbed my hands. I asked “singing with me,” & she said yes. Ahhh. Yup. My day was made!!

We practiced some words, colored, played with dolls & her dollhouse, & sang our alphabet, colors, shapes & numbers. And sinnging with me was the best part of her day!! She is getting much better at talking, & understanding not to hit, kick, or throw, as well as not yelling, screaming, or growling at me. (Note:animal from Muppets, reference).

Tonight’s bedtime was just after 7, per my shrink, & she was finally asleep around 9:30.

We are all working hard to be a happy, functional family. But that shit is hard. Apartment is still an unholy mess, but with 2 kids, it will be. Still dreaming of that house with a big back yard to let them run & play. We’ll get there.

Still working on Cub Scouts. I’ll get there. Trying to figure out cars, as Hubs wants a Vette & I want an XJL, and neither are in the budget with a half-million-dollar house all at the same time.

In life, this is certain: there are no certainties.

There are no givens. You gotta take what you got & try like fuck-all to make it work, while finding your happy, otherwise . . . Well, otherwise you’re just a rat in a cage, stinky, miserable, & trapped.

My last thoughts are about something that’s been on my mind for a week.  It’s about you. Imagine you are a hot new night club, very exclusive.  Your doorman has a guest list. Some are getting in because they wait & they come & hang out. Then you have your VIPS- these are the ones who walk past the line & cross through the velvet ropes. These are your revered friends & extended family. However, there is another group still more exclusive. This is your entourage. The ones you cannot leave home without.

For me, my entourage is a small circle of blood or legally bound family: Hubs, Boo, Diva, my parents, my sister & MIL & FIL. These are the only ones that are always with me. Can always reach me, & who I owe my utmost to. My VIPs are a close 2nd. And they still get bottle service & access to the VIP room, but that inner circle is my very first line of defense. The VIP ring fills any gaps.

As your life changes, the VIP list will, too. Some will slip from VIP to honored guests & vice versa. But that entourage list-that one is for life, & for me, it’s strictly blood. Because I know, at the gates of hell, those are the ones who would stick by me – no matter the cost, & for me, it is the same. 

Some VIPs get honorable mention here, as my VIP list is also very exclusive – I’d say around 15, with half not related, but would gladly help me bury a body & likewise. However, if I’d managed to piss off everyone, even my entourage, the entourage would still remain. I’d have to do some kind of drink specials to win back my VIPs. . .

So, what I’m saying is choose your circles. And choose them wisely. Don’t be happy you are on someone’s guest list. Make your own. And mind the bouncer doesn’t let frenemies into the VIP area for unnecessary drama in the form of stress. And know where you stand & where others stand so nobody leaves the club pissed off. And don’t be afraid of no-showing on occasion. Not because you’re a flake, but because your entourage needs you more. Or because you need some happy on your own.

Well. I’m about to rub some cream on my hip & get my sleep on so I can rock tomorrow like a happy rockstar bitch!

I don’t mean to come off all preachy, but life’s short, marriage is work, being a mom is a struggle, & only my entourage fully understand my crazy, messed-up life. But they love me unconditionally, & for that, I am forever loyal to them first-because all of them have seen me at rock-fucking-bottom like nobody else. You know, those parts we gloss over to the VIPs, & omit completely for everyone else. Most likely everyone has this list already, but keep it updated, & make a point to visit each VIP once/year. For my VIPs out of state, I’m going to implement a conference call via video chat. It’s been too long. Get YOUR happy on.

Peace & love, bitches!

Detailed description of hell & happy

I guess that is why everyone liked “Radio Silence”; my post about my experience living without my husband while he traveled to India on business. Details.

If you can imagine Alice in Wonderland, but with Edward Scissorhands, set in a “problem child” reality show . . . With evil flying monkeys, that would pretty much sum up a day in my life, but really, I will work on the details a bit, if for no other reason than to make you feel better about your life.

I’ve all but given up on writing the novel. Diva has hit a new level. I’d just finished hot-gluing my son’s toy machine gun for the second time today, when Diva slammed it over his back, sending the butt of the rifle flying . . . Again.

There is something seriously messed up with her. I love her, but she’s just mean. Satan himself called earlier to let me know to keep her in church & away from him.

I am secretly terrified about visiting friends in their home this weekend. I’ll have to double check our bank account. I’m actually being serious. She breaks stuff just for the hell of it. She likes getting in trouble more than me painting her nails, coloring with or reading to her. I just cannot figure her out. She’ll be that kid who sets our house on fire, I fear.

Then, she will just sit quietly for a long time in my or Hub’s lap, and hum a song so soft & sweet, & I think to myself – is this the hell cat from 15 minutes ago going berzerk over a damn 2nd cookie??

And when she says “Mommy” I completely melt. Those are my happies. And Boo has been utterly amazing today.

I stopped myself from crying earlier. I deeply miss my husband. He is in the same bed, but Diva is firmly planted in the middle. It changes daily who she prefers, but I’d just like to cuddle with my husband, even on the couch, for half an hour. Just to feel like we are more than Diva’s minion; slaves to her every whim, or else face her wrathful vengeance. Yes, we are all terrified of the little dictator.

My selfish thoughts melted away as she started humming our song. She sang the words she knew, the rest was hummed, but with some mixed vowel sounds.

Our song. Of all songs . . . It’s the Barney theme song. But when she throws her arms around my neck & squeezes me tight, then gives me a kiss before the big finish . . . Well, friends, that’s just a whole fucking bag of happy.

Life is a fucking mess. This world & are country are simply fucked. But, there are these flecks of hope, like glitter, fine & sparkling. Grab that shit & take it with you! You’re gonna need it.

Peace, bitches!

Just saying . . .

Having OCD & 2 kids (messy can’t even begin to describe my house or life) is the sane person’s equivallent of having a 5 course gourmet meal, but not able to eat it.

Previous Older Entries

Southern Hot Mess


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 85 other followers