Somebody tell me...

Why is child labor illegal, but you can exploit and "sell" your children all you want on a reality show? Or, have them act in television/movies?

What's the difference?

I was just wonderin'.

On children...

In class, my professor, who is single with no children, was answering a question about blood flow during pregnancy and sharing immunities with the baby, etc....

She said something to the effect of, the mother giving everything to the child while in utero.

Then, she said, "For nine months, it's a parasitic relationship, because the child feeds off of the mother and he doesn't give her anything in return."

Sometimes shit just leaps off of my lips and I'm pretty sure I heard myself say, "NINE MONTHS? Parasitic for nine months? I have a parasitic 10 year old!!"

Aaaaaaand, next came the, "How awful for a mother to talk about her children that way" stares, by twenty-something year old trollops.

Who, if they are not careful, will be knocked up and in the same effing boat I'm in, interrupted college education, life placed on hold, twelve years and FOUR kids later, sitting in a classroom with a bunch of fresh-faced neophytes!!!!

Karma's a bitch, BITCHES!!!

So, hopefully, for their sake, it was rather a "WOW! She, in no way, looks old enough to have a TEN YEAR OLD" stare!!

Yeah, now that I think about it...I'm pretty sure it was the latter!!

There's someone I'd like you to meet...

This was taken in May of 1999, six months after she was transplanted with his heart.

She's just over eleven years old now. Her birthday is sometime around May and her name is Daniela. It was hinted that she was transplanted in or around the Colorado area, but it's not certain. That's all I know about her.

That, and that she has my boy's heart...

Who's on first...

Anatomy and Physiology 2 started up last week and we hit the floor running...got right down to 'business', jumped in 'head' first, 'balls' to the wall.

See where I'm going with this?

For three hours a day for the past several days, I've been inundated with facts and terms and actions of the reproductive systems. Not so bad, right. I mean, who wouldn't want to look at pictures of penises and vaginas all day?

Since I've been out of the workforce so long, I'm still developing the skills to separate work from home. I'm trying to teach myself to compartmentalize everything...and as a nurse, I'm sure it's a vital skill.

Well, I'm not that good at it, yet. At all.

The other day, the fiery flames of passion were ignited and Jake was rounding third base, heading for home....

When what in my wondering mind does appear???

Seminal vesicles, epididymises (epididymi?), and his vas deferens...seminiferous tubules, his prostate...and the route of his sperm.

Actually, I thought it was hilarious, and said, "Do you know what your corpora cavernosa are doing right now? Do you have any idea how many millions of sperm have just been given their marching orders? And...get this...I did the math, and sperm can travel over 11 miles/hour. That's pretty impressive consideri---"

Jake interrupts with, "Really? Seriously?? This is NOT COOL!!!"

Aaaaaaaaand...back to first base, he went!!

Oh...the horror...

The kids went to see Transformers 2 with MIL this weekend. Now, while her son is completely comfortable with colorful words...MIL is not. She turns red when the word fart is mentioned, and still cringes a little every time my kids say penis or vagina around her.

So, Jack's aspirations of being a professional "Fuck-sayer" when he grows up, make for an interesting mix with MIL's conservative tongue.

This is a story relayed to me by MIL...

After the movie, which was apparently filled with extremely foul language, in the car on the way home, MIL warns the kids, "Now kids, you can't repeat any of those words in that movie, okay? Mom and Dad won't let me take you to the movies again if you go around saying those words."

I guess she doesn't know that we take her grandchildren to movies like this.

Jack seizes the opportunity to use foul language without risk of getting his mouth washed out with soap, pipes in, "You mean like "fuck" and "fuckin'" and "shit" and "ass" and --"

MIL, no doubt dying a little inside as she listens to her grandchild spewing profanity, interrupts, "ALRIGHT! Yes, Jack that's what I mean. Please don't say ANY of the bad words you heard in that movie, okay?"

Jack, horrified, says, "YOU MEAN I CAN'T EVEN SAY 'PUSSY'?!?"

A tough question...

I usually don't mind meeting new people. I like to talk...I like to listen...so, it's usually a good time.

Until...

The inevitable question. Just the anticipation of this question makes me a little uncomfortable in my own skin.

THE question...

"So....how many kids do you have?"

How do I hate this question? Let me count the ways!!

The absolute WORST part of having a dead kid...is this fucking question!! My mind starts reeling, so many things going through my head...

Three, or four...three or four...what do i say? Three? Or, four?

Am I ever gonna see this person again?

Do I WANT to see this person again?

If I say three, what if they ask a follow-up question and I have to tell them the whole story. Then I have to back track, and look like a dumbass.

Plus, it's a long story...do they even want to hear it?

I've HAD four kids. I should say four...I'm not uncomfortable talking about my boy.

Oh, but, THEY might be uncomfortable talking about my dead kid.

It'll make them all weird, and awkward...then, they'll feel like an asshole. Even though, I don't think they're an asshole. They still might feel like an asshole.

Then, I'll feel the need to comfort them, like, "Yeah, he's dead, but it's okay."

When really, it's NOT OKAY...and why the hell do I feel the need to comfort THEM.

Fuck it, it's not worth it...I'll just say three. Technically, they asked, "How many kids do you HAVE?" Presently, I only HAVE three kids. So, I should just say three.

But, the kids are with me. What if they chime in with, "Uh-Uh, Mom...you have four kids. Us and Joey. Joey's dead." Then, more back tracking...UGH!

All of this is happening in a matter of seconds, in my head. This question hurts, and I never know what I'm gonna say until I hear myself say it.

So, help a sista out!! How do I answer this question?

A close call....

As I described in this post, I sometimes over-react. But, Jake RARELY does. Wait, he NEVER does. EVEREVEREVEREVER. That is, until Saturday.

We were going out to dinner for a good friend's birthday. We had just left the party of another good friend, celebrating his birthday.

We had a few drinks and weren't tipsy, or drunk...but, we were warm.

I was driving. Jake has a pretty gnarly sprained ankle (that can now accurately be described as a cankle), and was shifting and twisting in his seat, trying to get comfortable.

Then, we heard it. A very loud...

P-SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I said, "Dear Jesus...what is that sound? Is it the car? What the hell is it?"

Jake replied, "I don't know what that is. It's so loud."

I reach over and turn off the A/C to rule that out.

It persisted. Even. Steady. Loud as fuck...

P-SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"It's not the A/C...what the hell is going on?"

Jake says, "I don't know. Damn...it must be the car. It sounds really bad. That's a really bad leak."

I reach down and turn off the radio, to rule that out.

We're still driving, and beginning to sweat. In silence. Aside from the very ominous...

P-SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

My mind starts to race. I immediately envision a hose, broken, whipping around under the hood, spewing god knows what all over the place. I start to wonder if the brakes are going out, maybe the steering. I wonder if the fucking car is about to fucking explode! Now, I'm scared. What is possibly most terrifying about the whole situation is the look on Jake's face...HE'S SCARED.

WTF??? He's never scared. He never loses his cool. He's always calm and collected...and now he's scared. This has to be bad...really bad.

I start to panic, just a tad, and frantically say, "JAKE, WHAT IS IT? WHAT IS THAT NOISE? WHAT DO WE DO? WHERE DO I PULL OVER? BABY, DO SOMETHING!!!"

Mirroring my tone, and making the situation even more terrifying, The One, who NEVER over-reacts, not even a little bit, looks at me with eyes as wide as saucers and fear in his voice, and says, "I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T KNOW. FUCK! PULL OVER, PULL OVER NOW. I HEARD THIS NOISE THE OTHER DAY WHEN I GOT IN THE CAR. FUCK! I KNEW I SHOULDA CHECKED IT OUT...FUCK. PULL OVER. WHAT...WHAT IS THAT SMELL? DO YOU SMELL IT? IT SMELLS TOXIC."

OH.DEAR.GAWD. There's a smell now!! This is definitely bad. But, I don't smell it. I just hear it...

P-SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Jake says, "DAMN...that smell is really strong, babe. It's a chemical. Hurry up and stop, so we can get out of the car. That's strong...you don't smell it?"

It's freaking me out that he's so worried.

My heart is quickening, and just as I'm approaching a turn off, to pull over, the smell...

Man, it's definitely chemical. Fuck, it IS strong. I can taste it. It's...it's...familiar. It's almost...fruity? What? It's like...it's....

A revelation.

"Move your leg off of my makeup bag, you fucker...IT'S MY HAIRSPRAY!!"

The fear drains from Jake's face, "Oh. WHEW! I thought we were goners."

He's back...

The boy had a great time at camp. He managed to keep himself out of trouble. He managed to make it home with all his shit. He managed to have a great time.

However...HE DID NOT SHOWER ONCE WHILE HE WAS THERE!! Five days of lake-swimming, hiking, sweating and playing...not a drop of soap all week.

Note to self: You have successfully taught the children to make their own cereal, respect closed doors, and how to dial 911 in an emergency. TEACH THE LITTLE URCHINS ABOUT HYGEINE!!!

Does this make me crazy...

IMAGE FROM HERE

So, I was watching Dr.Phil, and he was talking about adult ADD. He was listing the signs, symptoms and characteristics...and the dude might as well have been talking about me.

It takes me no less than three tries to leave the house. I have to go back in for the phone, the keys, my backpack, a glass of water...it seems like even if I have everything, I still have something to go back in after something.

I will stop mid-task because something else pops in my head...and I will rush off to go do tend to the new thought. I can't tell you how many times I start taking clothes out of the dryer, have a fleeting thought, rush off to address it, then, later when I am done...I walk by the laundry room to see the dryer door open. It's only THEN, that I realize I forgot to go back and finish the laundry.

Then, I feel all shitty, and brain damaged.

My short term memory sucks. As I'm walking out the door, Jake will say,

"Here, drop this movie off in the mail on your way out, okay. Babe...", he says, waiting for me to stop and look at him, "Don't forget...it needs to go out today, will you go straight there?"

Frustrated, I say, "ALRIGHT HONEY...I got it. Fuck, I'm not three years old."

I walk out the door, movie in hand...put it in the seat next to me, and drive right past the post office. When I return, Jake meets me at the door, takes the keys and heads to the car...

I say, "Where are you going?"

"To take the movie to the post office...I know you forgot it, didn't you?"

Defensively, "Well, uh...I...er...I was going-"

Defeated, Jake says, "I didn't expect you to return it...I knew I'd have to do it."
Then, I feel all shitty, and brain damaged...and then I OWE him...if ya know what I mean!!

Since I've started school, I've noticed how antsy I get. When I'm sitting in class, I tap my foot, or fidget in my chair. It is EXCRUTIATING to sit still for two and a half hours in a lecture. It's so bad, that I have to chew gum. The gum quiets the foot tapping and fidgetting a bit.

Then, when I survive that...I have to go to lab, where I tap my leg, or my pen...until my lab partner snaps and says...

"Dude...would you quit, my five year old does the same thing and it drives me nuts."

Then, I feel all shitty, and brain damaged...and then I OWE her. Which means something totally different in lab, like, I have to handle the E. coli.

I just find my mind constantly racing...so much so that like it almost vibrates. That sounds so weird typed out, but that's what it feels like. I can't even shut it off to go to sleep. It takes two Benadryl and about an hour before I can quiet my thoughts long enough to fall asleep. That's on a GOOD night!!

Sometimes I try to justify it, and tell myself that every mom feels this way. This is what happens when you have to do the thinking for a whole household. Maybe that's true. I don't know...It just frustrates me a little, well, a lot. I feel like I should --

Oh, look, a bird!!

*SIGH*...

From my Inbox...

I just had a thought..don’t ask me how or why. I know why the divorce rate is so high. Our society, including movies, books, tv, etc., only show us HOW to fall in love. Showing how magical and surreal it is, but then the story ends. There’s no update on how ‘happily ever after’ was achieved. It’s pretty sad isn’t it? I wish I were a director or a writer or something. I wouldn’t write love stories, I’d write staying in love stories. I would explain how if you’re truly in love with someone, you don’t just fall in love with them once, but over and over again throughout the years. And while it might not be as grand and emotional as the original, it’s still exciting knowing you can fall in love at any moment.

Freaking weird huh? I thought of this while doing a Sodoku puzzle.

I love you
Jake

If I still had a uterus, I'd wanna have babies with that man...er, well...more babies with that man. Wait...what the hell am I saying?? More kids would just fuck things up...I just wanna, you know...do stuff with him!!

A camping he will go...

Some of my favorite childhood memories are from church camp! Yes, you heard me correctly...my ass was allowed at a church camp!!!

I LOVED CHURCH CAMP! I looked forward to it every year, and would cry when the week was over.

I still talk to several of the friends I made over the years...one of them stops by my blog often...you know him as Tatman.

Just to clarify...yes, we went to the "Screw religion, think for yourself, and tattoo every last inch of your body-Church of God...dot com, dot org" Church Camp. And by god, we liked it!!

Yesterday, my boy boarded a bus and headed to church camp for the first time. I might have been more excited than he was, as all the memories and exitement of my childhood resurfaced!

I guess my life is kinda coming full circle, and it's a little bittersweet. As I relive the excitement of these adventures with my son...I also have to face the fact that I'm getting fucking old!!

One of those days...

Yesterday, was one of those days...

The kids were wound up...I was wound up.

I was running around trying to get Avery packed for camp, putting out fires all along the way. I spent a good part of the day cleaning up the messes made by the kids, while they were trying to clean up messes ...yeah, you heard me!!

These are a few of the messes I cleaned...

One spilled 3 liter tupperware container, full of Mr. Nibbles' food. Mr. Nibbles is the 3rd grade class guinea pig and it is my responsibility to keep him alive until September! Yeah, good luck with the whole "alive in September" thing, Mr. Nibbles...you're living with The Bullocks!!

These kids and their pets are gonna be the death of me!!

The shit of one of my children. The little one underestimated his ability to control his bowels...and, well...lost control.

The shit of an infant..."Awww, someone made a stinky!". The shit of a five-year old..."ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

Spilled red popsicle that was left on the dresser of my oldest child. It was left to melt while he chit-chatted with his friend at the door. And melt, it did...all over my carpet!! I demanded, very loudly, that the child get a wet rag, and gently blot...NOT SCRUB...the carpet to clean the stain.

Bless his heart, he might have brain damage.

Next was the trail of dripped water from the soaking rag, that was dripped from the kitchen aaaaaall the way to his bedroom...then, the giant puddles of water in the carpet that were left when he tried to clean up the stain.

DEFINITELY BRAIN DAMAGED!! Yeeeah, definitely, definitely brain damaged. Yeah, definitely...

Lastly was the 3/4 full, Route 44 Ocean Water from Sonic that was knocked over while the kids were dragging a bunch of shit out (read: another mess for me to clean) to make a huge pallet to sleep on!! That's approximately 33 OUNCES of BLUE SHIT splattered across the tile, the walls, and the table!!

I know why people beat their children!!

So many messes, that I had dreams of this...

And visions of this...


That may, or may not be a beer in my hand! But, if it was a beer...it would be totally justifiable, because it was ONE OF THOSE DAYS!!!!!

Six word Saturday...

"WWE Smackdown: Ave-ster versus Nudey Rudy."

To the one's I love....

Avery...

You thought I was too busy to notice that you help your brother and sister with breakfast every morning so that I can sleep in...

but, I did notice...

and I think you are responsible and thoughtful...and an INCREDIBLE big brother!

********************************
Lily...

You thought I was too busy to notice that the other day when Jack hurt his toe, it was you who comforted him, wiped away his blood, and turned on a DVD for him, to make him feel better...

but, I did notice...

and I think you will make an AMAZING mother one day!

********************************
Jack...

You thought I was too busy to notice that you were crying while you watched the movie, Beethoven, because the dog was left all alone...

but, I did notice...

and I think you have a heart of gold!

********************************
Jake...

You thought I was too busy to notice that you change the radio station from sports talk to "my" station every afternoon for my ride in to school...

but, I did notice...

and I love you more and more, every single day!

********************************
Joey...

You thought I was too busy to still have thoughts of you after all these years...

but, I am the woman, and wife, and mother I am today because of you...

and not a day goes by that I don't think of you!

My opinion...there is no truth about religion.

Religion is an opinion, not a fact.

I got into a religious debate on "the holiest blogger of them all's" website. Crazy, huh? I normally don't comment on her blog, because...well, because "if you don't have anything nice to say, then you shouldn't say anything at all", right? But, she lured me in...I couldn't resist. She said what I always say..."we should be discussing religion and politics." So, I posted my opinions about religion on one of the most well known Christian blogs...and I lived to tell about it.

I replied to a thread, that the scriptures and their interpretations (on homosexuality, abortion, premarital sex, etc...) are a matter of opinion, not fact. Aaaaaaand, of course, I was mocked and scoffed at...whatever.

People repeatedly responded that the bible is "the truth." That Jesus is "the truth." The "absolute truth", no two ways about it. Many stated that even if you weren't a "believer", it was still the truth.

I have to say that I wholeheartedly disagree!!!

The bible, and Jesus is not MY truth...therefore, it is not THE truth. Ya dig? Which leads to my theory that there is no truth...no such thing as an absolute truth as it pertains to religion.

I think a better term would be "personal truths". I have mine, you have yours...neither of us is wrong and neither of us is right. When it comes to religion and politics, there is no right and wrong...only opinions. And personal truths.

I read a lot of threads on the subject of the "slippery slope" that our nation is on, because we are "tolerating" immoral behaviors, like homosexuality, for example.

I have a big problem with the use of the word "tolerating". In my opinion, the word, "tolerating", implies that one group of people is right, and they are "tolerating" the bad behavior of another group, that is wrong.

I think "respect" is a better word. If we could learn to respect each other, ourselves and most importantly, our differences, our world would be a much better place. In theory, anyway. I'm sure something would come along to fuck it up...but, you get my point, right?

In the spirit of a healthy debate, I thought it was very disrespectful for people to claim that they believe in "the truth", and (quite literally) "to hell with" those of us who don't agree. I absolutely understand that I was on a Christian blog, but...1. she asked for opinions and for the debate and 2. believe it or not, I was not the only non-Christian.

When people claim that the bible is THE truth...that completely invalidates MY truth. The problem with one person being right, is that the other person has to be wrong. And, when it comes to MY truths...I am NEVER wrong.

So, try out my new commenting system and let me hear your thoughts!!

PHOTO FROM HERE

Independence Day...

This 4th, we celebrated our independence...from two of our three children.

When I was a kid, I used to love being over at my aunts house. My two older cousins were always there, usually with some of their friends, so it was often a very full house. They always had the coolest toys and gadgets.

My aunt kept me while my mom worked and I remember crying every afternoon when five o'clock rolled around. I never wanted to go home. I always wanted to stay amid the chaos of my aunts house...lots of pets, lots of people, lots of toys, lots of fun.

We went to East Texas Friday to see my aunt for her birthday...she lives with my two cousins, their husbands and their six kids. LOTS of people...LOTS of pets...four wheelers, go carts, every video game system you can name, woods to explore, dirt to play in, hot tub to swim in, and lots and lots of fun.

Things haven't changed much...I usually try to find a way to stay out there amid the warm chaos, and my kids...THEY ALWAYS cry because they don't want to leave MeMe's house.

So, Jack and Lily stayed and spent the weekend with my family. They haven't even called...so, I know they're having a great time.

Avery was with friends while we went to MeMe's house, so he didn't get to stay and pouted the entire weekend. We drug him to a fireworks show...he moaned and groaned something about four-wheelers and it not being fair that Jack and Lily were away. I eventually tuned him out, and Jake and I had a great time.

It was a pretty low-key weekend...the house is quiet, Avery is pissed, I'm studying and Jake's been catching up on his beauty sleep.

Celebrating our independence....

You will notice that this post contains NO EXPLETIVES. Since my aunt cannot stand to hear even the word FART...and this post is about her, I thought it appropriate to leave out the F-bombs...and "express myself" with real words!!! That...and the fact that one of my cousins is a Southern Baptist Evangelist...YEAH...you can only imagine how proud they are of me!!

Six word Saturday...

"The raddest Father's Day gift EVA!!!!"


I gave my children creative license to pick whatever they wanted for their Dad on Father's Day. They quickly agreed that a new t-shirt would be a great idea, and, miraculously, they all three agreed on this...the baddest assest t-shirt of all time!!

The big one...

The oldest child is an unfortunate one.

He must survive all the fuckups I make along my journey through the Mother-Hood. He's the first to hit each milestone and each new challenge. They are foreign to me, they're new, something to master. By the time the baby of the family gets to the same point, we'll have it figured out.

Not so for the oldest. He's the prototype.

It sucks to be him.

When he was born I was psycho. I was anal and scared...and didn't know what to do with a kid that you didn't have to "plug in".

He cried all the time.

I did, too.

I breastfed him for only three months because he cried so much. I needed a break. I needed Jake to be able to feed the kid a bottle so that I could try to find my sanity.

I remember putting my screaming four month old in his crib, shutting his door, and retreating to the shower. I would blare my music, hoping it would drown out the cries of that little boy.

I did it more than once.

He never slept. He cried all through the night.

I would stress out thinking that I was doing something wrong...that I wasn't meeting his needs. He was the only one...all I did was tend to his needs.

Any time we put him in the car, he would scream. Not just any scream...a scream that pierced deep into your nerves. A scream that hurt.

We didn't go many places with that boy.

He cried ALL.THE.FUCKING.TIME.

He cried when he ate, when he slept, and when he played. When he learned to crawl, he cried with every movement of his legs and arms.

Then, when he was ten months old, he crawled and cried to the coffee table, pulled his chubby little self up to a stand...and he walked.

He didn't cry when he walked. In fact, from that day forward, he didn't cry much at all.


Now that I know the kid, and know his personality, I think he was in a hurry. I honestly think that that little fucker didn't like being a baby. I think he wanted to grow up. I think he wanted more. I think he might have been a man trapped inside the body of a helpless little thing.


He's still like that. Always rushing through today to get to tomorrow. The poor kid...he's EXACTLY like me. He wants nothing more than to be just like his dad. He'll have to settle for being a better version of his mom.

Avery tries me, and challenges me, and fights me, and gets on my fucking nerves. But, he amazes me, and he impresses me, and though I will never tell him that he does so, he teaches me.

If we can make it through his childhood and adolescence...he will become one helluva man.


ONE HELL OF A FUCKING MAN!!

Conversations at the dinner table...

...on the subject of birthday dinners:

Jack: "I want crabs for my birthday dinner."

Jake: "You like crabs? I didn't know that."

Jack: "Yeah...I heard crabs have chicken in their legs."