Nick

 I've been postponing this one.

My family recently went through a nightmare.  Specifically, my sister Alicia and her husband Nick were on a cruise when he had a heart attack and died.  Fun fact, dying internationally is a pain in the ass and super expensive.  Not only did we have to deal with the hole that Nick's passing put in our lives, we had to wait several weeks to get his body back and so were in this limbo hell of not being able to go through one of the central parts of grieving, the funeral.  

We were able to get him back before Christmas.  Now, I have to live without one of my coparents.

Wait, isn't Charles your coparent?  Well, yes.  He is a very involved father.  But Nick and Alicia...they were the surrogates.  They were present in my children's and grandchildren's lives.  They were THERE.  Nick was there before Charles was.  He was present for Elizabeth's infancy.  And now Nick is not here.  It still feels unreal, months later.  I can't imagine how my sister feels.  All of the future things with my kids, he will miss. He never saw Charlie play volleyball. He will not see Delilah dance, or Willow grow up.  He won't be there to go to haunted houses with Elizabeth or buy jewelry from her, or watch Jewel progress in her teaching career, or see Alexis graduate from college. There are no more playdates in the backyard, with extreme bocce ball (don't ask...) and beef jerky from a local farm.  I won't have to make him any cakes or cookies for his Knights of Columbus stuff, or curtains for his new office.

There's a hole.

Nick was instrumental in keeping Charles functional after Josh died.  He called him daily for quite some time, as he knew what it was like to lose someone very important. His mother has now had to bury two of her children.  I can't even begin to imagine that. My sister does not have her husband of over 20 years.  I also can't imagine that.  It has always been Nick and Alicia.  Hey, were Nick and Alicia coming out?  We are going to Nick and Alicia's house to watch Michigan get spanked by Ohio State. (He 100% facilitated that victory this year, I can tell you that much...).

I will never understand the why of this.  Nick did SO MUCH GOOD.  He had his faults, of course. Mostly related to his choice in college football teams.  But he also had a big heart.  He did things like driving past a house that I had seen burning down in our town, killing two people,  just to see how bad it was for me, as I had not been able to look myself.  He was a surrogate parent for many children besides my own. He did all kinds of charity work for his church. Roman had imprinted on him and decided Nick was his person. When I told him Nick died, he sat down and just looked at me.  He knew.

This post feels very discombobulated. That tracks.  Just...do me a favor and love your people.  Love them so hard. And live your life.  Nick LIVED. And loved.

Miss you and love you, brother.

Recital II

 We have all seen the posts about how parents "don't pay for dance" (or insert whatever sport or activity your child is involved in).  Most parents recognize that their child is not going to go pro at whatever childhood "thing" they do.  We put the kids in these activities for a variety of reasons...sometimes it is to relive your childhood through the kid (in which case, I will see them in my office shortly due to their neuroses...).  Sometimes, it is because the kid really enjoys the activity.  Sometimes it is because, goddamnit, you will not be on your phone all day long and get the fuck up and DO SOMETHING.  But whatever the reason, these posts go on and on about how they are learning all kinds of lessons about teamwork and hard work and heartbreak and successes.

But what about the parents?

I have been a dance mom since 2009.  Fifteen years in a row.  If you count my time with Elizabeth when she was in dance, that total goes up to 18 years.  I've been around, so to speak.  I own a bedazzled and have purchased butt glue and nipple petals and hair mascara and enough bobby pins that I could have probably started a retirement fund from all the recycled metal. I can put eyelashes and a full face of makeup on a sleeping child. I have sat through countless competitions, put thousands of miles on various vehicles, and have an extremely large tote of costumes in the attic as well as an entire room full of trophies.  I have videos of dances from 3/4 of my children.  I have purchased dozens of bouquets, have years of dance programs, and know the local high school's backstage area like the palm of my hand.

There is so much more to it, though.  There were lessons that I learned as a parent.

I learned that I could genuinely care for a group of other people's children like my own.  That I could get super excited for wins and commiserate with their not-so-great performances.  I learned that their successes, not only on the dance floor but in other areas of their lives, could make me burst with pride just like it was my own kid.  That their sadness and grief when life was not so good to them would be mine too.

I learned that there are terribly rude people out there.  People who will try to sneak all kinds of shit over...sitting in seats not their own at a recital.  People who will walk in front of other people when there is a dance on stage.  People who will deliberately stack a dance number to put an advanced group in a younger age group or even a lower level to increase the odds of winning.  People who will go so far as to steal parts of other studio's costumes.  People who will leave a recital early because their kid has already performed.

But I also learned that there are some really great people out there.  People who raise their children to cheer for other studios when they win.  Strangers who will stop to help when you have a child who is injured.  Strangers who will help you when you have two garment bags, a rolling duffle bag, a purse, a portable refrigerator, a huge ass mug of coffee, and a full flight of steps to carry them up.

I learned that it is ok for other women to mold my daughters.  To call them out on their bullshit when needed.  To push them.  To take them to the next level, when even I, their mother, who thinks they are perfect and capable of anything, would not have insisted on it.  That some of these role models would influence every aspect of my children's lives.  That I would cry with these role models when it was all over because it is so bittersweet and that part of our job is over.

I learned that I can arrange multiple bouquets of flowers into various vases, too.

I learned that my husband is the ultimate "girl dad", as much as that makes my teeth hurt to say.  He was a steady fixture at the dance studio until Alexis learned to drive.  I'm pretty sure most of the teachers and staff liked him better than me.  Some of the girls really looked up to him as a father figure and would talk his ear off.  He even once got conned into doing a pushup contest at a comp because he can't tell these girls no (mind you, only a few months post-surgery from a bicep tear, to boot...).

I learned that I paid for dance as much for me as for them.  Because it does take a village.  And bitchez, that village has helped me to raise some phenomenal daughters (and a granddaughter, too, because Delilah is up on that stage as well).

So to my dance family: Thank you for all the memories.  Thank you for helping me to raise my girls.

Thanks.

Letters VII

'Sup, bitchez?

Of course I would start a letter like that.  Did you really expect anything less classy from me?  If so...do you actually know me in real life?  Probably not is my guess.  If so, buckle up buttercup because this is gonna be a profanity laden ride that you will leave likely feeling slightly used but also somewhat embarrassed that you liked it.

So far 2022 has been meh.  Of course, we are five days into it and Day 6 of 2021 was an attempted insurrection so there's that.  We can say that to date, no one has attempted to overthrow our government so yay?  I mean, given the past two years of hell we all have been living in with an actual plague going around that half of the country is taking seriously and the other half is all like "Imma lick the door handles and stop washing my hands because I'm not a sheeple and you can't tell me what to do with my body", the bar is pretty low for how life is gonna go at this point I'm thinking.

Let's catch up with the family.  Charles had a knee replacement that was roughly 5 years overdue, but insurance won't pay for it in someone that young unless the knee is literally missing.  Quite frankly, going by his X-rays, we could have probably made the argument that it was, but we were also really really hoping that he would be able to wait until he was at least 50.  Alas, here we are, 7 years early, but also really 5 years late so doing some kind of crazy new-age math we are right on time?  IDK.  But the man can now walk like a 43 year old vs an 80 year old so that's good.  And so far, no surgeries this year so also yay?

Unfortunately, the rest of last year went to shit after that for him.  More on that later.

Elizabeth is off doing her grown-up shit still, as is Jewel and her (now husband!) Garrett.  Their wedding was lit, as the young people say, and I drank more whiskey that day than I care to admit and was pretty lit myself.  I remembered why I don't drink whisky generally...not because of the hangover, but the lack thereof I somehow manage, making all my alcoholic Irish and German ancestors proud.  Delilah is still perfect (obviously) and loves to fuck with her Papaw by refusing to give him a hug with a little shit eating grin on her face.  She will then randomly decide she is in fact going to give him one (because we are big on the teaching of my body my choice around here and don't force it) and we all watch that big teddy bear of a man melt and get wrapped even more firmly around her finger.  I cannot wait to see the two of them together when she is a teenager.  At any rate, the older children are putting forth a reasonable facsimile of adulting at the very least and are doing great at it at best.  I'm voting for the latter.

Alexis continues to take college courses and I am all for that life for her.  We do most of our communication via TikToks now a days.  Not making them, though I did briefly foray into the making of TikToks during quarantine because it CHANGES you, man.  We just send each other shit we find funny, plus recipes that we want to make.  The Tok (as I call it, and I am trying to start a movement to have everyone call it that because I am bored as fuck so please help me have it catch on) is an excellent way to slide life lessons into my daughter's psyche that normally she would ignore and have to learn the hard way.  So way to go, The Tok, for helping me with my already lazy parenting.  Best part is...I don't have to create the content.  Win for all involved because good God, the stuff I've already created...well, you're reading the blog so you probably have an idea.

Charlie continues to do well for herself at the new school and is one of the funniest kids I have met.  She has also started to argue with her father for sport, and I stay out of it because really it's for the best.  She is barreling right towards pre-teendom, and I'm just hoping we continue with the lack of dead bodies.  Or that she continues to be really good at hiding them.  I'm fine with either cause if you're gonna do something, you need to do it to the best of your abilities.

Now for the shitty parts.  2021 took from us Charles's best friend Josh.  This was devastating, and we are all still adjusting to life without him.  Then, a month later, we discovered that Maximus had a large mass in his chest and we ended up having to put him down.  Essentially, my husband lost his two best friends within a month of each other.  It has really put new perspective in my life at least, and we both are at the point where we are not doing anything that we don't want to do (well, except pay our bills.  That's probably important.)  Life is too motherfucking short to spend it with people and doing things that we don't want to just because we feel some sort of obligation to do so.  So there, and you can't make me (insert crossed arms and pouty face and stomped feet).

Roman continues to Roman.  He's still a cute motherfucker but let's emphasize the motherfucker part because he's also a bit of an asshole.  He cannot be outside without a leash of some sort because dude likes to run like the warden got drunk and let the inmates have the keys to the doors.  He also has gone after other dogs, so the therapy dog thing is a no go now unfortunately.  Freeloader. He's just gonna be the equivalent of your 30 year old cousin who lives in his mama's basement, smoking weed and not working.

So...remember how I have said before I had no desire to get another cat?  Grief makes you do weird shit.  Introducing Winnifred Joshua:

It was love at first sight.  I actually got her from the Mental Health Board meeting I was at the Monday after Josh died.  The director was talking about how this cat had been kicked out of her house by her former owners for having fleas, and even after she de-flea'ed her, they did not want her back, so she took her to get neutered and was looking for a home for her.  I was all oh let her come in and I'll snuggle her like I do to Elizabeth's cats, thinking I would love on her and then send her back like I do to my grandkitties.  Well that little shit came strutting in, with her crazy ass tail with the few long whispy hairs and her furzy little ears that Charles says look like devil horns...we locked eyes and I knew.  She was coming home with me.  She beelined straight for me too.

I. Did. Not. Want. A. Cat.  But I needed this one.

I have been known to call her Winnie the shit, because surprise surprise an animal I own has a mind of its own.  Charles calls her "stupid cat", which means she has been accepted into the tribe as one of us.  Roman has not killed her as we feared he might, given his ongoing feud with the neighborhood cats.  Winnie, however, put him into his place pretty fucking quickly when I brought her into the house for the first time.  They will occasionally reluctantly play together.  I think they secretly like each other but are both too stubborn to admit it.

So for 2022, the goals are to not catch COVID again (that was super fun but I survived because I'm fucking vaccinated) and to not learn any more of the Greek alphabet, so let's got COVID to a place where it's not devastating families and communities, m'kay?  I'd greatly appreciate it because I want to fucking go on another cruise and all y'all are cramping my style here because I am not about the getting stuck on a cruise ship for the next 3 months because we can't dock because of a fucking Mexican beer virus (side note:  Beer named after the virus, or virus after beer?  Discuss).

Love, 

Me

Letters VI

 Dear Bitchez, 

I won't even go into the amount of tomfuckery that is 2020 because everyone already knows because we are fucking living it.  Figured I'd give (another) update on the family as it's been like a year since the last one.  What, go back to blogging during the quarantine?  That would have been a more healthful choice than wallowing in despair and alcoholic seltzers.  Or than injuring myself constantly.  More on that later...

Elizabeth graduated from college.  She is taking after her mama as I graduated with my B.S. (and yeah, those student loans were ever BS!) the May after 9/11, and with my Master's right after the economy tanked in 2008...so yeah.  Poor kid.  I told her not to take after me. She did manage to find a job at a jewelry store, with some career advancement potential should she choose.  She keeps acquiring cats, which is fine with me because I'm still not quite forty and fourth daughter Jewel had to rebel and have Delilah before then.  That's OK, though, cause Delilah remains perfect.  Her parents, though, are  headed towards the altar next year so I get to have some wedding liquor sooner rather than later (cranberry and vodka, yo!)

Alexis is definitely completely morphed into that elusive and irritable creature otherwise known as 14 year old female.  She and her father argue a lot, but for sport not the kind that gets us all in therapy.  Like, she's gonna make a great lawyer someday if she so chooses that path.  She is already on her third college credit class and generally is adjusting great to quarantine high school.  She's fabulous to talk to about current events and I really like the person she is when she's not being 14.

Charlie has started a new school this year, and is doing 110% better than when she was at her old one.  The shift in her is quite marked.  She is taking horseback riding lessons and has asked about art lessons as well, but as I live in BFE the art might not happen.  As far as I know, her body count is still 0 but I also don't ask too many questions because I don't want to spill the beans on anything during interrogation.  She says the funniest shit just off the cuff and half my Facebook posts anymore are just writing down shit she has said.  

It's a good thing my children are funny because otherwise I might drink more than I already do.

Ten months into 2020 and Charles has not had surgery (and not for lack of trying...he rolled his 4 wheeler earlier this year and did about 3K worth of damage to it.  Luckily, nothing serious to himself.  Yay?)  However...My husband was also told that the next time his surgeon operates on his knees will be to replace them.  Meaning they are so fucked up that there's no point in operating again until he decides to do this.  We knew this day was coming, but hoped he'd be closer to 50 when it did.  Maybe the messages in the cosmos got crossed and instead of waiting to be grandparents when we were over 40, we get knee replacements?  If so, that's messed up, universe.  Not cool.  His job also continues to vex him in every way possible, yet he refuses to go dig up that treasure he buried in the back yard so we can both be independently wealthy.  Though I like my job, even though I miss seeing people in person so really it's just more so he can quit his job and give his poor knees a break.  

As for me...well, I started to break myself back in August.  Just a little bit, though...only a stress fracture in my foot.  Then, because I am an overachiever in all that I do, I fell down the stairs whilst helping someone move and jacked up my arm and leg.  That was a whole fiasco...went to get X-rays, was told nothing was broken.  Got a call next day, "Oh just kidding!  You actually broke your fibula and tibia and your shoulder!"  Get an appointment with an ortho, and he goes "Just kidding!  That radiologist is smoking some serious crack because there are no breaks at all in your leg but you did break the shoulder so wear a sling for the next month.  Oh, and by the way, it's probably going to hurt for a really long time too.  And stay off that leg while you are at it cause you seriously bruised that fucker all to hell."

He didn't actually say those exact words, but that was the spirit.  Woulda been hella cool if he had though.

We also, over the course of this year, lost a neighbor, my brother, two uncles, and had to put Deogie down after a brief battle with Cushing's disease.  COVID funerals suck monkey balls, that's all I have to say about that.  Now the children are bugging me to get a cat, but no.  Roman would lose his shit because the neighbor's cat likes to torture him by walking past our window.  That cat also likes to fuck with Charles and they have a bit of a war going on where the cat comes into our yard and Charles runs it off.  I stay out of it.  Between the cat and Alexis, he's got enough to deal with without adding my crazy to the mix. Maximus, I am pretty sure, also wishes at time that he had an imaginary prescription for Xanax that he could chase with a bottle of wine like I pretend to do.  But for different reasons than me.  I think.  

Anyways, life is still crazy but now it's a new and special 2020 kind of crazy.  I don't know who the hell pulled the tag off of their mattress and enraged the powers that be, but for the love of GOD MAN STITCH THAT FUCKING THING BACK ON SO WE CAN APPEASE THE GODS WE HAVE SOMEHOW DISPLEASED!!!

Love, 

Me

Letters V

Dear Bitchez,
I'M BAAAAAACCCKKK!!!

Took a bit of a hiatus from things here because life just got crazy.  Again.  That and I needed a break from feeling as though I have to come up with content for this blog.  I act like I post so often but goddamn even monthly was a lot.  How do people do this for a living? I mean I guess if I got paid I'd be making my ass think of shit to post....Do people even actually blog anymore?  Well, I was also the girl who french rolled her pants for a solid year after it became unfashionable, so...IDGAF. 

So let's see...where to start?  I'm now solidly in my new private practice and even hired someone.  I don't think she's figured out the level of crazy she is involved with yet so I'm hoping to kind of ease her into it.  I am still at my other place, mostly because I like my clients and my coworkers there, but also because it's currently a steady stream of income.  I'm doing well enough that I bought an expensive vacuum cleaner vs the cheap one.  But in the cheapie vacuum's defense, that fucker lasted over 14 years so yay for the Dirt Devil Jaguar?

Charles continues on his trend of being surgery free this year which is great.  We also decided that we were going to re-side, re-roof, and re-gutter our house after some crazy wind storms damaged the old, really shitty siding.  Let's just say, the roof and siding probably needed to be replaced the year before we bought the house and we just kept putting it off and putting it off because denial totally makes your problems disappear like Democratic votes in North Carolina.  Let's also say that insurance sucks monkey balls and their decision to only pay for 2 sides of the house in the old crappy siding despite there being 3 sides damaged (or, at the cost of the old crappy siding) when all four sides of the house in newer, prettier vinyl siding was only  slightly more ranks up there as a mystery of the times right along with who was Jack the Ripper and what was in the briefcase in Pulp Fiction.  The house now looks amazing but dear sweet baby Jesus having those people here working on the house was incredibly anxiety provoking for me, and therefore terrible for Charles.  We soldiered on through and have put off any additional house projects until next year because of the trauma.

Elizabeth, to my knowledge, continues to get through school without being a functional alcoholic or resorting to selling drugs. I like to think, though, that if she were dealing that she is smart enough to not get caught cause Mama didn't raise no fool.  She completed her internship in New York City at a high end jewelry shop and really solidified for me that my baby girl is likely not going to stay in Ohio.  Which, as much as that would suck monkey balls, means that I will get to travel to visit her.  I am sure her boyfriend would LOVE having the mother in law come to stay.

Alexis continues to barrel on towards adolescence.  She is excited for her 13th birthday, which means things like being allowed to wear makeup and sit in the front seat of the car.  She does occasionally warily emerge from the lair  bedroom to interact with us mere mortals.  She's still dancing and we still continue to root for dancing to evolve into stages vs poles.  She also got bumped up to freshman algebra because she's a fucking rockstar, but now I get to relive my freshman year of math with her.  I told her once she gets to Calculus, though, she's screwed because I only went through Pre-Calc in high school, then somehow convinced my undergrad college that I should take that AGAIN for my math credit.  Again, not a fool here.

Charlie also continues to barrel through life head first, but that's nothing new for her.  She decided to re-join the competition team this year, why, I don't know, but she did.  She is dog-obsessed and once told me "if three dogs are good, mom, five are better."  She has discovered YouTube and that her mother is incredibly mean and abusive and makes her do things like go outside to play and wear clothes without holes in them.  She also tries to get me to play Roblox with her, which is incredibly entertaining for everyone who is not me.  We really should video that shit and go viral, but I like my privacy too much.  Just trust me when I say, it's super entertaining. 

The animals are pretty much status quo, though Roman has decided that he hates all dogs not in his family so we have to work through that with him.  I blame it on spending too much time with Charles, because that man pretty much hates anyone who is not family.  The girls are trying to convince me to get a cat, but hell the fuck no because a.) Charlie's allergies, and b.) our last cat was psychotic and quite possibly plotting my death on the regular.  The chinchilla is just kinda quiet, as are the rabbits.

Oh, and Delilah is perfect as usual.  Duh.  Gigi does not get nearly enough time with her, but Gigi and her mama are both incredibly busy. 

So I guess this makes more than a tri-decadely letter.  Fucking sue me.  You'll get a house with really nice siding and that's about it.  Oh, and crippling student loan debt.  Enjoy!

Love,
Me

Rainbows IV

I went and saw Delilah today because I'd kinda like to establish an actual relationship with her vs.simply bribing her with whatever she wants when she comes sees me.  I mean, I am totally not above doing so if I need to but I figured her parents would probably like me to not have to sugar her up and spoil her with whatever she wants when she's around me.

Wait, who am I kidding?  That's gonna happen anyways.

So let's just say I'd like for her to recognize me when she sees me.  She's getting so alert, and of course was just being her adorable self today.  Even her spitting up and coughing and sneezing and farting on me were adorbs.  And of course she's a total genius because she can hold her head up so well and is so strong and totally knows who her mommy is and tried to hold her bottle all by herself and can get her fingers into her mouth.  Duh.

Before she marked me as her bitch by spitting up on me (three times) and then conking out all snuggled up to me, she appeared to notice my necklace.  She's never paid any attention to it before, but today it seemed to have caught her eye.  I even made a comment about it, but really did not think twice.  I mean, it's shiny.  She's an infant.  It's right at eye level when I hold her out in front of me to discuss very serious issues like how adorable she is.  

On the way home, it started to rain to the west of me, while to the east was sunny as can be.  Naturally, I looked for a rainbow.  I expected to see a normal, thin-ish rainbow, like what you typically see.  It was not:

These pictured do NOT do this thing justice.  At all.

This rainbow was the most intense, brightest one I have seen in my entire life. And it was THICK.  IDK if that was because it was mostly so close to the ground, or what...but I literally stopped my car to take these pictures at an intersection.  (Don't get your panties all in a bunch.  No one was around...I was so enthralled with it that I missed a turn and ended up near a NASA station somehow, so now I'm probably on about 30 watch lists...)

Coincidence?  Again, IDK.  I like to think my boy was signaling his approval of his niece.  Because duh, she's perfect.

Letters IV

Dear Bitchez,

Time for my tri-decadely Christmas letter.  What, Christmas is over, you say?  Huh, funny that...people bitch at me for taking my decorations down the day after Christmas, but I try to extend the season by putting out a Christmas letter three days late and all of a sudden I've suggested the equivalent of torturing nuns and drowning puppies.  I'm trying something new, bitchez, as apparently I definitely can't be arsed to do anything on any kind of regular schedule.  Or even in a timely fashion anymore because late for me is now the new on time.  Which is incredibly anxiety-provoking for me and super awesome for my mental health.

I am still working two jobs, but my new practice is picking up more so now I am in the awesome position of not quite being able to reduce hours at the first practice but needing more for the second and therefore working all the fucking time.  Being a business owner is awesome...if you are a business person.  I am not so it pretty much sucks monkey balls.  Thank God for people who invent electronic health records that pretty much idiot-proof the whole process of insurance and billing.  I  never would have been able to figure out how to open my own practice before the Google was a thing.  I also decided that it would be super fun to occasionally teach a crafting class at a local wine bar, which then led me to being asked to teach a crafting class at the Senior Center.  Oh, and don't forget that I am trying to get EMDRIA certified for my practices which entails occasional (expensive) consultation and that I am trying to get Roman certified as a therapy dog which requires (expensive) training classes. I also recently slipped and fell and gave myself a concussion, which forced me to take off work so now I get to try to make all that time up somehow.  My therapist tells me that I am running away from my crazy because I keep myself so busy.  I then tell her that I don't like her very much sometimes, and we laugh and laugh because a.) we know that's not true, and b.) we know she's right.  It might be time to up  my meds, perhaps pursue that imaginary Xanax prescription...or, you know, learn to say no...

Charles only has three more days left in 2018, and has thus far avoided any kind of surgical procedure.  Go Charles!  He briefly had a stint with a very entertaining albeit incompetent HR lady at work, but alas his employer only enjoys rewarding incompetence in dangerous situations, like while using a crane to lift metal parts that weigh thousands of pounds or whilst handling a machine that melts wire at thousands of degrees.  She was soon let go, so no more entertaining stories of someone potentially more insane than myself.  Now he is back to having that look of desperation in his eyes, and as I've said many times before, this may or may not have a lot to do with to whom he is married.

The girls are all doing well.  Elizabeth continues on at school and working for the same practice I do.  She has been faced with a lot of adult shit this year, like friends with seriously ill mothers, a best friend's pregnancy, (and my resultant becoming a grandma, named Gigi.  Delilah picked the name out as she smiled when I asked her if that was what I should be, and had no reaction to Lala or Mimi. No more GmaL #itspronouncedjamal), and lots of car repairs and the resultant crippling debt.  Oh wait, that's from her student loans...She has handled it all well and as far as I can tell has not resorted to utilizing substances to make her forget how much being an adult sucks.  At least not on a regular basis.  Alexis continues to dance and grow at an unacceptable rate.  She appears to have adjusted to middle school and we do occasionally get her to look up from her phone to interact with us, so all is well there I think.  Charlie's teacher wants her tested for the gifted program, which is OK as long as "gifted program" does not entail throwing more busy work at her like some schools do.  Charlie has also decided to expand her dance repertoire to include tap and hip hop, as well as the acro and ballet, and is now on the Company team for dance, which performs locally.  Charles got upset a few weeks back as the studio owner posted the fees for the competitions in a place he could see them...he said ignorance was bliss and now he can't unsee those numbers.  I say I am looking at this as an investment in our future...if nothing else, to guilt the girls into putting us into a really nice nursing home because of how much we spent on dance for them growing up.

The animals are all cool.  Asher the chinchilla has gotten a new cage and is doing well.  Maximus recently ate 2.5 dozen Christmas sugar cookies and was on my shit list for a while.  Lucky for him they were undecorated.  Fucker also managed to get the lid off the tupperware container without destroying it.  Roman continues on in puppy classes.  We've taught him to fist bump because we need a dog who is cooler than we are, natch.  Deogie could also benefit from a prescription for Xanax, but also does not have one.  The rabbits just kinda chill and do rabbit-y type stuff.  They are pretty unexciting. 

We ended up NOT selling the house and discovered that our realtor was the WORST EVER.  Like, not showing up to show us a house worst.  Like lying about showings coming over worst.  Like having paperwork done incorrectly worst.  Needless to say, we ended up not getting the house we put a bid on and did not renew our contract with her, nor will we be using her in the future.  Back to the plan of building.  That is, if we ever get out from under MY crippling student loan debt.  2018 did nothing but show me how much fun it is to be an adult while not being independently wealthy.  Yay for no surgery though?

Happy Holidays, bitchez!  Looking forward to a 2019 wherein I continue to not be rich and remain just as crazy as I am poor, effortlessly.

Love,
Me

Asher

We have acquired a chinchilla.

Seriously.  His name is Asher, and he's pretty fucking cute.  We acquired him because my fourth daughter, Jewel, is currently pregnant with my first grandchild and they did not want the chinchilla with the baby.  I'm not 100% sure why (maybe not having the time for him?  Are they bad around babies?  Do they develop jealousy issues?  IDK...) but we ended up with him at our house.  Apparently I take in strays.  Charlie tried to tell me that since the goldfish and sucker fish died, it evened out, but I didn't buy it.  But again, I am pretty much a sucker for whatever my children want, and Jewel and that grandbaby are included, so we got him.

Side note, I keep joking that the baby, Delilah, can call me GmaL and pronounce it Jamal, but I am worried that the kid won't be able to pronounce that because it seems difficult.  Grammy kinda seems to be growing on me, but Gigi or Mimi are also appealing as well.  There's Lala, too, but I'm pretty lukewarm about it.  Honestly, that baby could call me whatever the hell she wants because if I am a sucker enough to take on an entire chinchilla and all that is involved for her mother, she's likely going to get whatever the fuck she wants, including what she calls me.

So, back to all things chinchilla.  Apparently they are pretty high maintenance.  Like they can't get wet or they will mildew.  We now own a pet with mildew potential.  Pack that away in the category of "concerns I never thought I would have about our pets."  They also get dust baths, and are restricted to a maximum of one raisin a day because anything more will fuck their bellies up.  The little guy also likes to snuggle, but at the same time wants to run and hide under the bed.

I have never related to an animal more in my life.

Well, not dust baths or mildew concerns or limits on raisin consumption.  Plus he's a whole hell of a lot cuter than I am.  If I were to pick up a raisin between my little hands (another similarity we have, for the record...) and to nibble on it all dainty-like, people would probably think I am crazier than they already do vs being absolutely adorable.