Holy shit!

I am always so surprised when I come back to this blog (after neglecting it) and see that people are reading it. It makes me feel so happy, it's weird and self indulgent and maybe narcissism at it's best...  but, who am I to judge myself? Huh? To be honest I have very few moments of self indulgence. I don't know if it's the kids or my husband being vain enough for the state of Washington, but as I get older (hey.. did I just say that?) I realize that those of us who aren't prone to being full of ourselves need to be. Simple as that. 

As a child/teenager, my sister would tell me (and everyone) I was full of myself. She thought this way about me for whatever reasons, they are hers and I'm not going to try and guess them- but it was exactly the opposite of the case. I guess it was hard to see who I really was (who knows who anyone really is when they a child, teen or twenty something?) I was a cheerleader and that right there makes everyone judge. Which is so wrong, those years were not exactly my finest moments, but it was a "sport" that kept me with the right crowd and some great friends by day, so I could go off and be a complete delinquent youth, by night. I led a double life, I was a real hot mess.

Anyway, not to get sidetracked by my childhood that somewhat resembled the movie "Thirteen". Although when I saw it I was completely sad to think it was so similar to my story, there were parts of mine that were so much worse. It's not a competition. My story, like everyone else's makes me who I am today and apparently that is a blog writer!

I'd like to thank my readers. I hope you pass it on. I would like it to eventually all be for something, whether it be when my kids are grown, they read about who I am (was) or maybe I will get published and write a book? Who knows, stranger fucking things have happened. 

I am just glad to be writing about myself and my life and my experiences. There are so many blogs and the like that are written by people who are writing about someone else's world, someone else's life. That's not the case here people. I think we can all agree.

Fine. Missin' you. WTF. Breathe.

I can do this. 

It has officially been long enough since Eddie has been home, that I feel like I can do it. I go through phases, the "it's fine" phase is always first. He leaves and I just wave good bye and immediately start going about my business. The work load is huge but I'm not yet affected.

Then I start missing him. The night I climb into bed and it's not all about sleeping in the middle. I kinda wish he was there, even if he steals covers and snores. Even though he wears the same shirt to bed that he wore all day, I suddenly want to smell his shirt.

After a few days of missing him I start to get pissed. I'm tired from having to do everything and the kids usually get sick (ahem... always) and I am just mad. I stop talking to him on the phone for a few days, everything he says is annoying. I don't miss his smelly shirt, I just glare at the pile of laundry he left in his closet (because no, I still have not washed it).

And then one day (today) I feel like I can breathe.

The house isn't in too bad of shape. My kids are happy and I'm busy but it doesn't seem as overwhelming as on the "WTF" stage because I have a rhythm. Finally. 

This is when he usually comes home and fucks everything up, it's awesome but it is like walking over to my stack of dominos lined up throughout the house, and just touching one... you know they are all going to fall over and I know it must be done.

This time he is not coming home. This tour in going to go on until the end of Feb and it sucks that it must be so long but we are really thankful that it is. Rock 'n roll is like anything else, you have to work while you can and even though he can't be here for Halloween, we will be together for Thanksgiving, which is my favorite holiday, to be with my family is so incredibly insane, it is nonstop, tons of food, people, craziness. I love it.

I've got to get back to the Halloween costumes. 

Throwing in the towel

Do you ever want to just quit? Like, literally, walk out the door and just say "that's it! I'm done!".
Man, I do.
Today that was me. And a little of yesterday too.
I am so tired and spread too thin. My own fault, I guess I just want to do too much and I feel like cutting anything out will make something else totally fucked up... so I try to do it all and guess what?
I can't.
Ugh. I hate that almost more than I hate the being fed up part.
Sometimes I just want my husband to come home and go to work in the morning and come back in the evening. Just like everyone else. People thing the rock n' roll is so easy, but it's not. It is SO not.
I'm starring down the barrel of 5 (more) weeks before I get to spend 7 days with him and then he's off again for another month, home for a week then gone again... I'm bitching. I realize it could be worse, but this is my blog.
I was listening to " The Incredibles" when the scene where the Mom is at the dinner table with the kids who are going ape shit and she is yelling for the Dad to come "intervene!". I need to do that right now. I needed that today, to yell out for my husband to come and help. But he is in Florida, trying not to get eaten by alligators or whatever it is that you do in Florida... I needed a back-up and I don't have it. Sucks.
What is one to do? Sit in a dark corner and regroup... I guess, I mean, that is the only thing to do.
I ordered take out, it was so salty we could barely eat it... I should have just made dinner.
I worked for a while in Q's costume... now the kitchen is covered with green fur...
I let E have a popsicle because she hasn't eaten in 4 days because she is getting over something and now there's a trail of sticky pink shit all over the floor.
I ran a bath for myself and then started doing some school work... now my bath is cold.
I'm having a bad day and that is allowed. I guess that is the real lesson I can learn. As long as I know it's just a day (or a week, tops), I will get through it.
And no, I won't get to make dinner every night and holler at my husband to come intervene when things get wild, but that is okay too. When he is home he is completely home. He is loved whether he is here or there and sometimes I love him more when he's gone, because I feel invincible because I have to do this all on my own. That is a good feeling, however hard it is on these days, this is it. This is it. This is the ride I chose and I do believe I chose wisely.
Good night cruel world. If you hand me a pair of deuces tomorrow, you can go f' yourself.

Speaking of phone etiquette...

have we really lost the art of talking on the phone?
I am banging my head trying to think of the last time I talked to someone and they actually gave me the attention a phone call use to get. I can't think of a single one and I am just wondering if we are all done talking?
I use email and text as much as the next busy 35 year old mother, but I do like to talk. Not always, I can't always pick up the phone and you know what I do then? I don't pick up. If I can't talk, I don't pick up. If something comes up, I get off the phone. If I find myself sitting in front of an open email or the sudden urge to surf the inter-web strikes... I get off the fucking phone.
This is spurred by a number of things, but mostly by my husband who never ever, ever gives me the floor, while on the phone.
P.S.
You totally deserve being hung up on. X

What is with everyone?

Seriously. What in the hell is up everyone's butt?
I am come across so many rude people lately, I think it's an epidemic. Or a pandemic... what's the difference? Both bad.
It's an assholademic.
I called someone recently and they answered (their cell phone) "WHAT? I'm really busy. Is this important?"
Really, that is what they said. I had to pull the phone away from my ear to see if I was in fact calling the right person. I was more than offended, I was completely caught off guard. I'm not sure why you would think it is okay to talk like that. I hope this person wasn't in an actual meeting, how embarrassing to be caught talking to someone like that.
So it goes, I have been greeted with the most unfortunate assholes lately. Everyone is so self absorbed, they have no idea they still need to be fucking nice. You have to be nice. You live in the WORLD. Ahem, where everyone else lives. And sure we all have our days, I have had a phone ring many times at the worst possible minute and if I ever had the urge to answer and scream at the person- I would choose to ignore the call. Whomever is calling is completely unaware of my world, because they have their world to live in.
So I hang up and have to rethink human nature. I am so drawn to these things, I am fascinated at what makes people snap and for what reason. Is it really that bad? Did you just find out you have a month to live? I mean, it could be anything, frustration, hangover... I am just blown away that people talk to each other like that.

Apple picking

At it's finest.
Well, maybe not. I have never actually been. But today, I went. We all did.
The kids and I jumped in the car at 10 a.m. And headed to Jones Creek Farms, for some prime WA apple picking.
I guess on the East coast it is huge, it is what they do in the fall. My Mother grew up in Montana and she remembers doing it as a kid too. She said every year it rained, never failed.
I looked online to find a place that would actually let you pick apples, most of the orchards out here don't. There were some places that were so far away, I was sure to end up in Idaho, or worse, Canada (I'm kidding). I chose a place that wasn't necessarily close but it sounded cute and this happened to be their harvest festival weekend. You know, pumpkins and shit. I could care less about pumpkins, we did that two weeks ago at Fair Bank Farms (go there if you live near Seattle, so awesome). So yeah, pumpkins shmumpkins, I wanted some damn apples!
The place was about an hour and a half away, it was a cool drive though, all the trees are turning, we must've passed 10 pumpkin patches. We pulled up to this little place, there were cars lined up so I knew we were there, but it was pretty non descript. I was happy, I hate the places that are half carnival, I mean, I dig a carnival but not while I'm getting pumpkins or apple picking, kids loose sight of what they are there for and it becomes a day of waiting in line for rides.
We walked up and were greeted with a girl, who was probably 12, she was sweet and gave us a cup a super delicious hot cider. That was actually hot! We were pointed to the wagons and boxes, where we packed up and went.
We walked to the end where they said had not been over picked... they were wrong. There were no apples! I'm thinking we just drove nearly two hours for cider...
but we turned the corner and went to the middle and found a ton of apples. We all picked and fell in the mud. Q pulled the wagon and Elvis hunted butterflies. It was one of those times I know I will think about when I am 90. I will remember the time we apple picked, for the first time and we all loved it.
Tonight. Apple crisp!

this is a random picture I recently found and love. He was 5. He was/is magic.