Pigs

 I have to get up ridiculously early to take Charlie to the bus stop for her school.  And by ridiculously early, I mean probably a normal working person's time but I hate mornings as much as Marjorie Taylor Greene hates being educated on, well, anything, so I better get put in a damn fine nursing home because of this.  Charlie at times will attempt to engage me in conversation and at these times I fully understand why some animals eat their young.  

She got on this kick for a few weeks about asking me to make up a story for her.  I started off strong with a story about a girl who discovered she has the power to stop time and to make changes, but unfortunately for every change she made, something horrible happened.  Like for instance, she stopped the eggs from rolling off the table when she was with her grandmother, but then her brother broke his arm because of it.  I soon realized, in my sleep deprived haze, that the caffeine had not kicked in quite enough for me to be able to write an ending for this story, so I somehow abruptly changed the story to frogs who grow thumbs and end up taking over the world.  This, however, was too fantastical for Charlie (though I maintain that should frogs ever grow opposable thumbs they would be unstoppable) so I soon settled on the Three Little Pigs.

My version.

And here it is, in it's entirety.  Enjoy.

The Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time, there were three little pigs who went out to make their way in the world.

The first little pig came upon a man selling straw, so he got a bunch at a fantastic discount and built himself a house out of straw.

The second little pig came upon a man selling sticks, so he also got a bunch at a fantastic discount and built his house out of sticks.

The third little pig, recognizing that the price of lumber was reaching uncut cocaine levels, decided to buy some bricks and built his house out of bricks.

So along came the housing inspector, and he gets to the first pig's house.  He says, "Are you MAD, man?  This house is a veritable fire hazard!  Plus, it's not very good for the environment as this thing will be a NIGHTMARE to heat in the winter and cool in the summer."

The first little pig scoffs, "Come on, man, I don't need big government coming into my home and telling me what is right for me and my future piglets. Plus, climate change is a hoax and less than 1% of people in straw houses die from fires.  This house is fine and I'm not changing anything." So off the housing inspector goes.

He soon got to the second little pig's house.  He says, "Are YOU also MAD, man?  This house has zero sound proofing.  You will be able to hear everything and anything outside of it."

The second little pig also scoffs, "Freedom of speech, man.  People should be allowed to say whatever they want, where ever they want, without repercussion or any kind of responsibility for the events that may follow their misinformation.  This house is fine and I'm not changing anything."

The housing inspector then came upon the third little pig's house.  He says, "Wise choice here, my man.  Lumber is at uncut cocaine prices, but bricks are a solid alternative.  Fire resistant AND sound proof AND good at keeping warm or cool air in as you need it." 

The third little pig goes, "Yeah, I'm not a fucking moron like my brothers.  I understand that laws and regulations exist for the greater social good and that not everything is a conspiracy to take away my rights and freedoms, which only exist because of the responsibilities that go along with them. I'm a pig, not a sheep for cripe's sake."

So of course, the Three Little Pigs could not be the Three Little Pigs without the Big Bad Wolf.  In this story, the Wolf's name just happens to be Consequences For Actions, but we will call him BBW for short.

He gets to the first pig's house and goes, "Little pig, little pig, let me in!" and the pig goes "Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!" BBW goes, "Oh, come on, like your punk ass could grow any hairs on your chin.  Plus, all I need to do is to light this place on fire, and you either come out or I have a lovely roasted pork dinner.  Both solid wins in my case."  So BBW lit the pig's house on fire, and, well, I'll spare you the deets but let's just say that BBW made a run to the store for some BBQ sauce.

BBW then gets to the second little pig's house and goes "Little pig, little pig, let me in!" and the pig goes "Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!" BBW goes, "Oh, come on, like your punk ass could grow any hairs on your chin any better than your brother."  So BBW starts to hold Black Lives Matter rallies as well as Slut Walks and March for our Lives in front of the house.  Then, when that did not work, he started to pound on the door and say "We are trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty!"  When the pig attempted to leave to move elsewhere, BBW snatched him up like white women do to pumpkin spice lattes and turned him into brunch, complete with mimosas.

BBW goes to the third pig's house.  He knocks on the door and goes, "Little pig, little pig, let me in!" and the pig goes "Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!"  BBW says, "Like you could grown any hairs on your chin, like your brothers" but the third little pig did not suffer from fragile masculinity so he was unperturbed by the taunting.  He went about his day, while the BBW tried everything he could to get the pig out of his house.  He even tried to go down the chimney, which really just resulted in him getting stuck and embarrassingly having to have the Fire Department come rescue him and led to some interesting "Florida Wolf" headlines.  BBW eventually gave up and left the pig be.

So the third little pig lived happily ever after to the end of his natural life.  When he died, the butcher came and made bacon out of him.

Moral of the story? Live a good life by not being an ignorant asshole, and even after death you will make people happy.

My Venmo for therapy is included in my bio.

Winning

 So because 2020 had to fuck us up the left nostril one last time on its way out, Charles's knee replacement got rescheduled to January because of the fucking pandemic.  Because of course we couldn't have it done in a year in which we had already met our deductible.  Of course.

The surgery went well for him, thankfully.  It is pretty sad that he is now walking better, even with a walker and after having a surgeon drill into his leg and shave bone down and give him a new knee and only being a few days post-op.  The doctor was all like "he should have had this done years ago, it was pretty fucked up in there with significant bone damage from them grinding" and I was all like, "yeah, I know, but insurance sucks and didn't want to do it on a 40 year old man so here we are" and then the doctor was like "well because he's a 42 year old man he is gonna swell a shit ton and probably try to over-do it because he's gonna think he's all rough and tough with his afro puff so just keep an eye on him.  Oh, but if he doesn't move the knee he's gonna fuck it up so there's that.  No pressure, though."

I *might* have paraphrased that.  I do wish doctors talked like that though.  They'd be a lot more relatable.  I'm sure you are shocked to know that I talk to my clients like that.

So because this was a major surgery, he was supposed to stay the night to get pain meds under control, watch for blood clots, etc. (hence why it was cancelled due to COVID...they needed the beds).  The little girls, who are the product of two incredibly anxious parents, were incredibly anxious about this surgery (shocking).  They do NOT like it when either of us are gone from the house overnight, so they weren't too keen on him staying there (plus, the whole no children visiting thing...).  Luckily, we live in modern society and FaceTime exists, so he was able to talk to the girls before they had to go to bed.

Now, we always have had a bedtime routine for the children and were pretty strict about it from the get-go.  This has served our family well through the years, despite some people not agreeing or understanding why no, I am not going to force my kid to stay up until sunset in the summer when she is used to going to bed at 7:30. I'm also pretty good at evading their attempts to prolong the inevitable slumber awaiting them. This has endured for all three of them until they decided that they were too old for us to tuck into bed.  We are 2/3 of the way done with bedtime routine, Charlie still liking us to tuck her in and go through all the little rituals that have evolved over the years.

One thing that she and Charles somehow started was this "I won!" thing as they race up the stairs.  Well, I am sure you can imagine how quickly Charles would go up the stairs, considering that he needed a new fucking knee...but who actually got up there first didn't matter so much as who said "I won!" first.  And of course, there's all the trash talking that Charlie can do during various competitions with her family members, and her father gives it right back because my family argues for sport. 

 "I won!"  

"Yeah, you did, second place." 

"Did you have a worst part of the day today?" (We ask for the best and worst parts of her day.)

"Yeah, that you didn't win."

And so on and so on.  Every.Single.Night.

So the girls wanted their good nights with their father, partly because of tradition, partly because of worry.  They both had a chance to chat with him for a bit, and we were getting ready to get off of FaceTime when Charlie came running in from the other room.

"Dad! One last thing!"

"What's that?"

"I won!"

Well played, Charlie.  Well played.

Thankful

So it's that time of year where Americans symbolically gorge themselves on high carb, high sugar, and high fat foods in a celebration of a white-washed version of history that glosses over things like spreading pestilence and mass murders and straight up theft.  Though come to think of it, anti-maskers this year are spreading both pestilence AND causing mass murder of innocent people, so maybe they were going for a more accurate version of Thanksgiving this year and we didn't even know it?  If so, I'd like to point out we can teach a more accurate version of history without introducing a pandemic and killing hundreds of thousands of Americans.

Anywho, one of the ideas of Thanksgiving is that we are to be thankful for the stuff we do have, right before we run out to the stores on Black Friday to engage in unrestrained consumerism in the most American way possible...knifing each other over cheap TV's imported from foreign countries to celebrate a holiday we appropriated from the pagans to make Christianity more palatable to the unwashed masses.  So, seeing as how I already have 99% of my Christmas shopping done due to Charles finally scheduling his knee replacement (does a new knee count as his Christmas gift?  Because thanks to American health care, it won't be cheap...I'm kidding.  Well, about the gift part.  Not the cost.  Unfortunately.) I figured I'd go with the thankful thing.

So what am I thankful for?  Well, glad you asked...

I am thankful that I can laugh with my children and husband still.  Even if there's a good chance that their therapists will be hearing about it in the future.

I am thankful that I can now lift my arm up from when I broke my shoulder.  I was having to use spray deodorant and that shit SUCKS.  Not that it wasn't effective because it was...but I'm pretty sure I've put a new hole in the ozone layer AND given myself some form of lung disease from using that shit. But hey, I didn't stink.  

I am thankful for the technology that allows me to continue my job without putting my health in danger.  While I 100% miss seeing my clients in person, I also value their health and my health enough to stick to strictly telehealth at this time.  Plus I have the advantage of wearing yoga pants AND slippers to work daily.

I am thankful for my asshole dogs.  Well, Maximus isn't an asshole as much anymore since he's old (I'm not still bitter about the time he ate all of my rolls I had rising on the table...which BTW, is totally dangerous for dogs but hey, he also ate rat poison once and survived so he's pretty bad ass.  Or has a stomach of steel.)  Roman, however...total asshole.  He will bolt out that door any chance he gets and go for a jog around the block, hopefully not attacking any animal or human who crosses his path.  But...they are my assholes and great snugglers.

I am thankful for modern medicine.  I have a bevvy of fabulous doctors at my disposal...from my eye doctor, to my rheumatologist and gynecologist, to the orthopedic surgeon who will be (and has in the past) operating on my husband...we have been able to take full advantage of the great American medical system.  Has it almost bankrupted us?  Yes. Are we still alive?  Also yes.  Well, at least on the inside.  Our souls, I am making no promises about...but that likely predated all the medical issues.

I am thankful for my friends and you, my dear readers.  All 10 of you (that's including readers and friends total, in case you were wondering...) Though quite frankly, I was writing in this blog way before I let it be known that I was doing so and it was just a therapeutic then as it is now.  Now, I just have the advantage of telling myself that I am helping people by broadcasting my crazy.

I'll bet at this point you are wishing you had not wondered about what I am thankful for and just asked about my Christmas gifts.  Which, since my love language is gift giving, are all fucking awesome so really, you probably missed out there...

Adventure

 As in Choose  Your Own.

Charlie, one fine evening in this clusterfuck of a year, 2020, decided when we were having a fire out in the back yard, that we needed to have a Choose Your Own Adventure story telling time.  What then ensued cemented all of her future therapy needs and will possibly trickle down a generation or four.

Charlie: You are in a prison, trying to escape, and come to the guard.  What do you do?

Me: Kill the guard.

Charlie: Well, there's no violence in prison.

Me: Well, that's counterintuitive.

Later on in the adventure:

Charlie: You find an empty weapon, money, and bread.  What do you do?

Charles: Eat the money, grab the gun, and hide the bread.

Me: Use the bread to make bullets for the gun

Charlie: No, we can't do that.  Someone already tried that and we already lost a player.  Besides, I never told you what weapon it was.

Me: Num-chuks? Please be num-chucks.

Charles: You said the weapon was empty.

Me: They are having an existential crisis.

Charles: Yeah, they are now just numbs.

Later on in the adventure:

Charlie: You are now in the courtyard. Do you wanna fight?

Me: I am a lover, not a fighter.

Charlie: You aren't going to make it in prison (Side note: What happened to the no violence thing???)

Charles: Well, I love to fight...

Later:

Charlie: You see a police car. What do you do?

Me: Break the window and steal it.

Charlie: Well, OK, the doors were unlocked so that was unnecessary. You are driving along and see hitchhikers.  Give a ride?

Me: No hitchhikers.  They could be messed up.  And having an existential crisis.

Our poor kids.  They've never stood a chance.

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

Roblux

So in an effort to bond with Charlie, I have started to play Roblox with her.  My username is Gmaw1217, if anyone is interested in going on there and fucking with me.  Because let me tell you something, my kid sure doesn't have a problem doing that.  The first time I went on with her, she gave me some kind of potion to make my head get huge and then informed me there was no way to get it back.  Well, turned out that was just until you stopped playing for that day but still.  I was stressed.

So WTF is Roblux, anyways?  Well, I think it's kinda like Minecraft?  Except you can actually tell what shit is in it.  And you can't build shit.  And the people look like Lego people.  So actually nothing at all like it.  But you get to run around in your own little world or try to go through what they call obbies which I *think* are kinda like obstacle courses for your little Lego man (or woman).  Then there are simulators too but I honestly have no idea what those are.

Literally I have no idea what I am doing when I am playing this game.

Let me enlighten you on some examples of how this usually goes.  Charlie likes to play this game, Adopt Me, which is where you can choose to be a parent or a kid and try to find a family of your own.  There's literally children wandering the streets looking for a mommy or daddy, or some sort of reasonable facsimile.  That in and of itself is pretty disturbing for me.  Like, what happens if you don't find a family?

Anyways, here is some actual things that have been said and done in game play.

Me: What the...there's something flying at me!

Charlie:  It's a dragon, Mom.

Me: It looked like some kind of demon!  What kind of game are you playing here?

Charlie: People can get them as pets.

Me: I want one.

Charlie:  You can go get an egg to hatch for a pet.  It'll probably be a cat though because those are common.

Me: Wait, what?  I'm hatching a CAT from an EGG?  Someone needs a biology lesson here.

(Sure enough, I end up with a cat.)'

*Cat saying it's hungry again for the fifth time in as many minutes.

Me: Goddamn, this cat is needy.  I'm putting it away so I don't have to deal with it anymore.

(Great life lesson there, amirite?)


Me, decorating my  house:  WHY WON'T THIS CANDLE STAY STRAIGHT?  It's going to burn my house down!

Charlie:  It's not going to burn your house down.  It's too big for that shelf, that's why it keeps flipping to it's side.

Me: Right, that's exactly what one does in real life with a lit candle if it is too big for a shelf, flip it over.  Realistic much?


Me, in public with Charlie on Roblux: Ooohh, look, you can dance!

Charlie:  Mom, don't do that.

Me: There are six different dance moves to choose from!

Charlie:  Mom...just....stop.


Me:  (I took my cat to the hospital because it was sick.  Told you, needy as hell.) What the hell?  There's a demon flying at me here!  I'm leaving!  (Runs out of the building back to my house.)

Gets to my house and runs inside.

Me: Shew, I'm safe now.  Imma decorate some more.  But first I have to shower this stupid cat.

(While cat is in the shower, the demon appears, this time with hair on fire.)

Me: THERE IS LITERALLY A DEMON IN MY HOUSE.

Alexis, hating and doubting: Whatever, mom.  Let me see.  (Comes and sits on the couch with me.)

Me: Well, I ran away.  I'm going back to the village to get food. (Runs away, leaving cat in shower like the stellar parent that I am.)

Two minutes later:

ME: WHAT THE HOLY HELL!!!   THERE IS A DEMON FOLLOWING ME!

Alexis: OMG, there totally is!  That's creepy!

Demon on Roblux: Come with me (You can make these things talk to each other too.  I'm still not 100% sure how.)

Me: I'm outta here!  (Runs to the school)

Demon follows me.

I run to the camp ground.

Demon follows me.

I run to the soccer field.

Demon follows me.  Its hair is still on fire.

Demon: Come with me.

Me: HOW IS IT THAT MY PERSON ON ROBLUX NEEDS AN EXORCISM????

Turns out, this demon was actually my darling baby girl, who had changed her Lego lady into Beelzebub.  With fiery hair.  And you can teleport yourself to where your family is, which is how it kept showing up where I was.

Well played, Charlie.  Well played.

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

Vegas

So Elizabeth has recently turned 21.  It's crazy to think about, because I met Charles about a month after I turned 21, and you see how that worked out for us.  Well, pretty good for me, I'd say...but for him?  Well, message me for our address for sympathy cards.  Wait, can you do the messaging thing on Blogger?  I don't even know.  So I guess just comment below if you are so moved as to want to offer him condolences.  I'll make sure he gets them.

I had wanted to take her on a trip after graduation, because she managed to survive 18 years of living with me, mostly.  I never had a doubt that she would graduate because she's hella smart.  However, my husband decided to Popeye his arm all up and was out of work for 5 months, so that did not happen then.  Then the following year he decided to do something else to his already fucked up knees and had to get surgery on one of them too and was out for 6 weeks.  This year I pretty much threatened him with additional bodily harm should he require surgery for anything, and since he's a little scared of me he complied.  I mean, I had to be a responsible adult and postpone this trip for 2 years.  The least he could do is not injure himself anymore.  Cause you know, it's all about me, right?

Again, comment below with your sympathies...

So we finally got to do our trip, and since we had never been there, Las Vegas it was.  (My sister Alicia was included in this trip as well, as she pretty much helped me raise Elizabeth.  Elizabeth used to say when she was little that she hated going places with both of us because she thought people thought that she had two mommies.  Which is pretty funny on one hand, because we all look very alike and it is clear we are blood related somehow.  On the other hand, it is so sad that she worried about judgment about having two mommies, though back then it would have been a much bigger deal.  Totes still have a ways to go with that though.  However, don't worry; I pushed my liberal, feminist rhetoric on her enough that she learned to not engage in homophobic thought processes and decided on her own that having two mommies is A-OK.  Funny what happens when you teach your child to think for herself...)

The trip was super fun.  I gambled maybe a whole $40 the entire time I was there.  Elizabeth got to play poker, which she had been "Training" for according to her.  I played a little Black Jack, and we all did some slots.  We saw a show, walked the strip, took naps, ate great food, and did some shopping.  Oh, and went to this bar made completely of ice and drank a drink out of a glass made completely of ice.  It was Frosty the Snowman's ideal place to pick up chicks in there, but it was still pretty cool (pun not intended).  And probably something I would only do in Vegas, because it was ridiculously expensive to get into.  Never thought I'd pay to freeze my ass off...I get that for free here in Ohio.

It was amazing to see my daughter as the self possessed, hysterically funny, smart, mature young woman that she is while on this trip.  She really is a fantastic human being and if you are lucky enough to know her in real life, your life is that much better because of this.  And if you don't, you are really missing out and I want to extend you MY sympathies.  Because to be honest, I'm not sure what is worse...not knowing Elizabeth, or having to live with me.