Fresh Day, Fresh Leaves, Fresh Undies

As promised, I am back today with a fresh start, fresh attitude, and fresh undies.
:::cue feminine hygiene commerical::: (you're welcome, JT)


(Woman stands, looking at herself in the mirror. In the background, Fall leaves swirl outside, seen through the window)
Announcer: Sometimes, you need a fresh start. Fresh make-up, fresh hair, fresh panties. You can't do much about gray lungs,  or a bloated fatty liver.  But, we at CooterClenz strive to make your insides feel as fresh as a basket of clean laundry. Why shouldn't everything inside be as fresh?

Woman: You're right!  I DO deserve to have fresh innards!  While I can't get a new esophagus-yet--I CAN make sure my ladybits are just as fresh, carefree and magical as the falling leaves outside. Thanks, CooterClenz!  You started my workweek out right!  And, with new Apple Cinnamon, my ladybits will remind the entire office that Fall is in the air!!!
(woman holds up box of CooterClenz)
New CooterClenz.  Original, Cotton Candy for the lazy days of summer, and now, Apple Cinnamon!! 


Where was I? Oh, yes.

Mental illness is quite the roller coaster, isn't it? I'm still pissy with my health, and those poor souls that try to explain it to me. But, I have new mugs in my Zazzle store, I look cute in a burgundy fall sweater, and I am still sleeping pretty well-I'm on a roll! Hell, I might even get shit done today! The world is my oyster.

I am in a good mood, my end-of-year stuff at work is falling into place thanks to the awesome chicks I work with, I won some yummy Zico coconut stuff from my local Gluten Free Specialty Shop (located conveniently at J and 26th, right downtown, for those of you in the Sacramento area-they don't pay me to plug, but they should-in LaraBars!) and fall is a-fallin'.

The leaves are swirling around with fury, and all I want to do is rake them into a pile and let kids jump in them. After I go first, of course. What is it about these leaves that have struck me as particularly magical today? I don't know, but I DO know I could use a little magic. And not the stabbing-pain-in-the-eye-voodoo-shit I have experienced as of late. I mean the magic that comes to children during this time of year. After all, I am just a big kid.  A big kid with a bra.  A big kid, with a bra, that swears a lot. Damn. That was almost poetic, and then my crazy brain muddled it. Shit. I was doing so well with the "fresh start" crap--almost like your favorite douche commercial as a child. 



Now, I got the kids-plenty to go 'round, as they say. All I need is the rake, a Raker, and a big liability rider.

Who's in?

Health Update for November 2011

Normally, you can count on all kinds of awesome funny stories about the craziness I birthed, or the hilarity that ensues when I am allowed out on a pass to traipse among normal humans. Sadly, this is not one of those posts. But I will swear a lot. As in, Dear Mother-in-law, this is NOT the post you want to be reading.  Seriously.  Go see what Mimi is doing or something, maybe she needs the new People issue.  But, if you DO read this, don't judge me.


Fucking fuck.  That's how I feel about today.  That's how I feel about my stupid stupid dummy-head doctor, and that's totally how I feel about fucking fuckity fibromyaglia.  Except with more F-words.

Lemme back up.
Every time I visit my Rheumatologist, I go prepared. Sky King accompanies me, I take a list of current meds, and I have a list of shit I want to end.
This time, it was:

List of Concerns:

• Hair loss, noted by myself, and my hair stylist--now, we're not talking "hot pink hooker wig" loss.  just noticeable thinning. Irritating, and doesn't seem to link to a particular med I take.
• Fatigue. I'm sofa king tired, I can't even stand it. (HA! Get it? Can't STAND it? 'Cause I wanna lay down? Nevermind...)The sleeping meds I take make me feel like I had two scotches for breakfast, instead of a gluten-free LaraBar. Which sucks, because I commute on the days I have energy to deal with work.
• Pain.  Motherfucking mind-blowing pain, that means sometimes I have to choose between playing Angry Birds, and feeding myself.  Sometimes the birds win. Sometimes the spoon into the Gluten Free Dairy Free frozen dessert wins. Which is why my weight loss is, shall we say, a tad non-existent lately. Fucking sue me, I'm in pain.

Then we go over all my meds and supplements.  My sleep Dr., Dr. F, added mirtazapine for sleep, which was new to this visit. Dr. W-the Rheumatologist-wanted me to check with Dr. F to see if I could halve my dose. Then, I told him I was taking 5000IU of vitamin D.  He said, "Okay.  Who prescribed that?"  I responded with "Google".  This did not go over well.  Apparently, self-diagnosis and self-treatment are not his favorite patient habits. Because of this, I expand. Ha.  I know shit, motherfucker.  I can READ.  And I'm doing shit about it, homie.  Put THAT in your pipe and smoke it. He pretends to ignore me, and I pretend to not blow him into bit in my imagination.
Moving right along...
Then we talk pain.  I explain about the wrists, the elbows, the hips.  The knees, too. I tell him that it is bothersome, and daily-life-hindering.  I tell him that some days, I have trouble holding the steering wheel. I tell him this is not okay with me, with the whole own-a-business things I got going.  You know me, and my silliness with that income thing. Apparently, he does not understand the realism in my voice, because he does not immediately offer a hopeful explanation. Instead, he asks about my mood.

"Grumpy" does not even begin to scratch the surface of the state of my mood lately. Not only am I not supposed to work too much, do fun stuff too much, or extend myself in any way, I also need to be mindful of my body mechanics and take note of triggers, gobble pills all day, spend hundreds a month on co-pays for sleep doctors, acupuncturists, head doctors (and not the voodoo-y problem-fixing ones), Rheuma-whatever doctors, primary care doctors, neurologists, and whatever else. All while reducing my stress...during the holidays.  Which is stressing me out. He says he understands. But his lack of prescription writing for the perfect drug is telling another story altogether.

So he leaves it like this:

Hair: fine, in terms of loss-not the kind of loss that would be the sign of something bad, so suck it up, Rapunzel.
Fatigue: It has only been 2 weeks on the sleep med, and if I have been having poor sleep for a year (possibly since I was 12 when I was first told I ground grinded teeth-clenched into dust at night) it should take at MINIMUM a month to see marked results.  Keep at it, follow up with the doc over halving the dose.
Pain: Here is the kicker.  He thinks it is fibromyalgia, rather than Rheumatoid Arthritis.  Which is good, and bad.  Good because fibromyalgia won't shorten my life. Just make it an angry bitch. The meds suck, and don't help much with pain.  Now if it is RA, that shit is degenerative. My blood work shows the possibility. The meds out there will help the pain. But.  The meds suck. The nicest of them is prednisone. The yuckiest is chemo, among others. So praying for "not RA" is the key right now.
Mood: He thinks my biggest problem is anxiety and depression.  i tell him, "Yeah, NOW it's my biggest problem. You just pretty much gave me no hope, dude.".  I get that I have a tendency towards depression. I get it, I accept it.  It's a bitter pill to swallow (I can do this all day, folks.  ALL. FUCKING. DAY.) but my health is NOT making it easy.  Fine, give me a pill or five that makes me happy I can't fucking eat, use the computer, smack my kids around, whatevs. But shit, really???? That's my PRIMARY problem???  Because people should take the inability to walk without a limp upon standing EACH TIME I STAND, FOR UP TO 10 MINUTES in stride. Umkay.  I think this kind of can't-do attitude is what makes doctors have unlisted numbers.
I even have a T-shirt planned. I'm going to Zazzle it. Then, I will wear it to all subsequent appointments-every 4 month follow-up.  It's gonna say,
"I went to see my doctor, and all I got was a 3 hour lab wait and referral to psych".
Catchy, no?

I leave, feeling defeated. If I have RA, they can treat is aggressively, but the drugs may cause some shit I can't even fathom. If it's not RA, this fibro bitch gets upgraded to "flaming whore" status, and I have to find some other way to cope that is A) do-able, B) not pain meds that destroy my already taxed liver and C) does NOT involve copious amounts of kicking puppies, which is what I want to do. It's not so much the "puppy" part, more the "kicking" part.  The kick has to be satisfying, though. Kicking a wall, or a fluffy pillow ain't the solution.

So, I feel like cussing, and crying.  Sorry I wasn't funny today.  Tomorrow will be better, especially with all these mental health issues, I'm sure of it.

In Which I Almost Get My Ass Beat by a Crazed Teenager. And Her Mom.

We recently went to an amusement park.  It was a quick trip and we won the hotel room, otherwise I never would have been able to convince Sky King to go during the holiday rush. Also, I don’t think he realized two months ago that November 19^th was right before Thanksgiving. And, I remember about 3 days before the trip while we were preparing for Thanksgiving that he had that “I wanna cancel this stupid trip” look. But he didn’t. Which in hindsight might have been a good choice. But I digress.

  I was concerned that I would have a hard time physically, what with the whole “bad joints extreme pain can’t seem to handle anything more exciting than videos of cute kittens on Youtube” bullshit.  So, I borrowed my mom’s mobility scooter.  Which should have had a warning. Or several.

So, we go to the park and spend all day having tons of fun. I stay in the scooter most of the day, and it really makes a difference for me. Without it, I would have been good for maybe an hour or two. And, I would have been useless for a week after, so I was very thankful to be able to borrow it (thanks, Mom!!). 

One thing I DID notice is this: People have little to no regard for people in scooters and wheelchairs. They will push past you, pretend they don’t see you, and cut you off.  Older people pay better attention. And dads.  Sometimes the stroller set, too.  But for the most part, people would passive-aggressively push past, avoiding eye contact.  I don’t know what YOU would have done, had it been you, but  I got a teensy bit pissed. As in, the-next-person-to-cut-me-off-will-pay-with-their-ankles pissed. Yep, THAT’S where this is going.

Lemme set the stage…we just went on a roller coaster as a family.  I STILL don’t have a pic for our annual Christmas card* so we had all planned to do the puffed-cheek-about-to-vomit face. Nothing says “Happy Holidays” than that, right?

We are all excited to see how it turned out, so we motor over to the screens. I see a big crowd, so I kind of hang back, still on the scooter. I inch forward as people move out. But still, people are pushing ahead of me, or at least finagling past me. I’m getting a little steamed, but trying to maintain my composure because, after all, I’m a lady.  I’m still inching forward, and then people start seriously making me mad, coming up on my left, pushing past me, and getting right in front of me.  The last person that did it, I reached forward, and tap her on the arm. She looks back, and I say, in a very nice voice (REALLY. I was using a nice voice, I promise.) “Excuse me, I’m trying to move forward to see, too”.  She replies with, “So?”

I will allow some time for you to fully absorb the magnitude of this.

Who does that? Only people with death wishes, or people who step on kittens with hooker heels, that’s who.  And now I’m mega-pissed, and she’s about to die.  So, I wait for about 3 inches of space, and I push forward.  (Keep in mind that there are two settings: “turtle” and “bunny”.  I have had the scooter on “bunny” all day-more on this later) She moved forward at the same time, by swinging her leg over the front of the scooter. Which meant that I violently rammed her.  I’m thinking, win, win, right? I get a little more towards my goal of seeing the screen, and I have just annihilated a shin or two. Well, I’m not sure what I was thinking. Maybe I thought she would turn around and say, “Geez.  You’re right. It was incredibly rude of me to push ahead of you when clearly you are lacking height and maneuverability. My open wound has taught me a valuable lesson. By all means, proceed.”

She didn’t.  What she DID say was (and I am paraphrasing here, both to protect young minds, and because I can’t quite recall the entire tirade…) “Damn, bitch! What the fuck!  I don’t even care if you ARE handicapped, I will kick your ass!”.  I’m stunned (I don’t know why, though) and I try to use calm logic. But I have to yell my logic, because she is continuing to scream at me with her angry claws in my face.

Her mom then joins the fray, asking what happened. Finally, I figure, some logic will get into the mix. I explain I was moving forward, and her daughter had pushed ahead of me while I was moving forward. Nope.  Apparently the glitter doesn’t fall to far from the stripper, because the mom then starts screaming at me to not argue with a teenage.  REALLY?!?!?!?

So let me get this straight.  Teenager pushes ahead of person on a scooter.  Then when she gets rammed in the leg as payment for her asshole-ness, she screams at the person on the scooter.  Then, the mother of the teen comes into the mix, supposedly to find out what happened. Scooter driver calmly explains (really, I did try calmly), then mother begins to yell at scooter driver.  Got it.

Monkey Boy sees most of the scuffle, and says, “Dad, dad, dad” until Sky King comes over.

This is Sky King’s thought process.

Holy shit!  Some ruffians are about to kick my wife’s ass! I must save her….. (Screech).    100%.  OK. 

“Hey, (he says in his 6’2” frame), what happening?” It’s at this moment that the mother and her whore daughter meekly schlep off.

Right about then, Sky King seriously considers confiscating my weapon scooter. Combine this altercation with a couple other wheelies, skid-outs, hydroplaning, and near-misses, and he has reached just about his limit. I need to either erase the past two hours of spousal mishaps, or find him a beer.

So THAT is why you won’t be getting a Christmas card from us this year.

*yeah, right. I don’t DO an annual Christmas card. Or even a letter. Although, maybe I should……

Tuesday Tutorial #2

Yeah, I know it's not Tuesday.  Pretend it's Tuesday.  Like, if you were in Australia. And it was Tuesday. or, you woke up after a head injury and you were unsure what day it was. No?-I have chronic pain, asshole. Show some compassion. Damn.  I'm not even sure I want to show you my bad-ass idea now.

:::sulk:::

Fine. Just because you're a jerk doesn't mean the world should suffer without my awesome craftiness.  As you know, because you spend most of your free time hanging on my every word, my kiddos both go to an amazing Montessori Charter school for 2nd and 7th grades. Each Christmas, I try to come up with fun gifts for the teachers.  I avoid the usual junk-things based on pencils, note pads, apples. I usually steer clear of bath and body items as well-I'm sure many people will do that. As a former teacher, I know what I wanted to get and that was gift cards, or cash. Some schools have policies on cash, and the OCD crafter in me can't do it, unless it's done super-creatively. Since I suck at money origami, I do gift cards.


Monkey Boy has three teachers-they rotate from room to room like traditional middle schools, but electives are taught by volunteer parents and there are only 3 staff members, so still the close-knit community that I love.
I figured out a creative way to give gift cards! First, you take a reusable insulated cup, and place a gift card inside.

Set it on it's side, and put in some crap to hold the gift card still.  I used some re-purposed (that's fancy talk for garbage) bows that are curly and not too smooshed. You could also use confetti as a passive-aggressive way to be mean. We all know no one likes confetti. Except janitors that get paid by the hour. Or raffia if you have it.  Or maybe crumple up some of your child's best work, and stuff them in there. Although that may send the wrong message, like maybe you think they gave your kid good grades because you give awesome gifts.
Anyways, cram some stuff in there, otherwise it looks just like you threw a Starbuck's card in a cup. Which would be rude. Unless it was a $100 gift card.  Then, you can pretty much throw it at them. I know-I was a teacher, and I had no shame when the gift card amount was high. I'm a professional, y'all.

Then, you put a couple more in there, 3 fit nicely.

Now remember, my kids are pretty much total train wrecks, so I go big. 3 teachers, 3 gift cards for $10 each card, plus the cup.  Maybe you have good kids. If that is the case, you could do something different, like 3 cards of $5 each, in a card. Or maybe you are just a cheap unappreciative asshole. Or you are only doing a gift because you don't want to look like a jerk, but you really don't like the teacher. In which case, just buy them some crappy body wash from the grocery store, asshole.

Of course, if you like me and my blog, you probably have rotten kids too. Or, you think I make all this shit up for your amusement.  if that's the case, yes, I make this up.  I'm that creative. My kids are really quite sweet, and I got each teacher a $3 Whitman's Sampler.  Moving on.

So, the cup should look like this:

I used 3 different food gift cards.  Because themes kick ass. Then, I'm going to attach an awesome little fancy note that will say something cute.  Because my gifts are the bad-ass rock stars of gifts.  My gifts show other gifts what's up. They have throngs of scantily-clad other gifts following them, throwing their bows at them....wow. That just got weird.   What I'm trying to say is that, I rock as a gift-giver. You'd be lucky to get a gift from me. That's all.

Anyways, back to the card. It will be something like,

You spend each year feeding the minds of the children. Now, we will return the favor! From: The coolest family everpleasedon'tfailmykid.

I haven't done it yet, because I was doing this blog, trying to please you.  Stop judging me. 

You throw it all into a wine gift bag, and, voila!

Yes, you may steal. You're welcome.

Road Trip Music

Recently, we took a road trip.  I have always been a fan of driving long distances.  Some of our best bonding has come from pre-kid road trips. Sky King and I can drive for hours, enjoying the scenery, stopping for snacks, seeing the sights. 
I was concerned that my stupid health crap would impinge on the road tripping in our future.  However, for what we did, I did fairly good.  We took few breaks but I manged to move around quite a bit, changing position so I didn't get too stiff.  And, it was very conducive to napping. Our new Swagger Wagon has amazing seats that recline wonderfully.  Bring enough pillows and a blankie, and it's snooze time!

One important aspect is the road trip music.  This last trip I tried to introduce an audio book on parenting.  It was as if I suggested dental surgery.  The kids shall continue to run amok, because we blasted the tunes instead.  Here is my list of essential road trip music.  What would you add?  (No deleting, it's MY list, jackass.)

Shania Twain-Come On Over, even with her overuse of apostrophes in the song titles, I can't help but belt out Man, I Feel Like a Woman, especially after a particularly filling fast-food burger.

Steve Miller Band- Greatest Hits1974-1978.  Nothin' says "bonding" like Big Ole Jed with a Light On.  Or the Airliner one, whatever.  The details are NOT in the lyrics.

Madonna, Immaculate Collection-Holiday, Celebrate, need I say more?

Michael Jackson, Thriller-doing the dance moves from the video not only keeps other cars around us awake, but it helps with our motor skills.  By the time we get to bum-fuck nowhere, I am a much better dancer.

Red Hot Chili Peppers-Blood Sugar Sex Magik. I Got Stopped by a Lady Cop, in my Automobile....this song reminds me of the time when my stereo was stolen and Sky King and I had to sing to each other for a 2 hour trip.

Elton John-Pretty much anything, as long as it includes Benny and the Jets.

Billy Joel-Love me some Uptown Girl, and all the other shit that came out in the late 80's, early 90's.  Love.

90's music in general is perfect for a road trip-the inane lyrics lend themselves well to road-trip monotony.

Sir Mix-a-Lot-Baby's Got Back is just about the most perfect song known to man-it's got a catchy tune, the lyrics speak the truth (who DOESN'T like a big butt? Got me goin' like a turbo 'vette-musical genius, I say)


What music keeps you going on long trips?

Thanks Giving

Last year, I made a list of the things I was thankful for, and posted it on Facebook.  I added to it daily, and enjoyed coming up with things I was thankful for. It’s fun to look back, and remember what I wrote. I also enjoyed the writing of it itself. I have always enjoyed writing---lately, I have found that writing, even though it takes time and effort, along with my hand function on some days, has been very therapeutic for me. It has given a voice to my aches and pains, woes, frustration with my body that has given up on me in so many ways.

This year, I am doing a Top 10 list. Here they are, in no particular order.

Top Ten Things I Am Thankful For

10.          My job.  I own my own business, and it is running well enough for me to put only 5-15 hours each week into it. The lovely ladies I have working there make that possible.  Otherwise, I would be fighting the Disability office, just to get what I need to provide for my family.

9.            My husband.  He believes me.  He believes IN me. He is the yin to my yang, the salt to my pepper, the peanut butter to my chocolate. I can talk for hours about all his wonderful qualities, but it would wear me out, and then he would take over. As usual.

8.            My kids.  They are so fantastic, even when I want to choke them to death. They are goofy, silly, full of laughter.

7.            Being diagnosed NOW, rather than decades ago.  There are still doctors that don’t believe in Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.  I still have people question me, I’m sure some of them don’t believe all my complaints. I would gladly trade with them for a day---but I am so thankful the ones that count believe me!

6.            All the wonderful foods that are available for those that should not have gluten and/or dairy.  Every few months, I get reminded why I can’t eat them.  I am especially thankful for the So Delicious brand, they make amazing creamers and “ice creams”.  Oh, and LaraBars.

5.            All the great resources out there, connecting me to people that truly understand my health issues.  I have found great people on Facebook and through blogging, and they help me stay sane.

4.            Humor.  If it wasn’t for laughing, I would be spending way more time crying!  The Bloggess, Flourish in Progress, my Girl Scout Pal Jen, The Oatmeal, the guy from Don’t Even Reply, Passive Aggressive Notes, Regretsy, Failbook.  All these wonderful things/people have kept me from throwing myself off a cliff, sometimes at their own expense.

3.            My family. I have an amazing group of people. My parents and awesome beyond belief-they come over and bring the trash to the curb when I am away, they return things from stores when I can’t stomach it. My husband’s family is fab, too, and there’s tons of them, which makes it that much greater because the statistics of them all being tolerable is astronomically against me. Then, ya gotta add all my friends, who are as good as family. One, because they sometimes drive me to drink, and two, because they love me despite my obvious character flaws.

2.            My husband. Yes, I know he was already #9. But damn, if you had to be married to me, you would want double-credit, too. Trust me. And, he thinks HE got the good end of the deal!

1.            Lastly, I am thankful that my health issues are mine, and not my husband’s or my kids’. I could not bear to know they were going through all this. They make going through it worthwhile, by being who they are, for loving me, for being just who they are.

Don’t fret. I will be back soon with more bitchy funny banter. I was nearly killed at an amusement park the other day, so there’s that. And, I have VERY strong feelings about individual salt packets, all of which I will share with you, soon.

Princess Pretend

My sweet Princess, enjoying being a kitty.
Sometimes it's fun to pretend to be something else. Today, I am pretending to be healthy.

This probably means I will pay for a week, but my kids are worth it.

What do you do, that you know you will pay dearly for?

Heaven in a Cup

I have found some unexpected seasonal yumminess! So far, these two make excellent additions to coffee, with less carbs and sugar than those awesome but dangerous creamers at the traditional stores!

Us gluten-free casein-free people gotta be able to party hearty, too!

Maybe I will try it with coffee and rum, next....

Where's That Thing I Need for the Thing??? I Think I Put it by the Thing-y...

Every once in a GREAT GREAT while I totally freak out over something stupid (I know.  Impossible to believe.  But it’s true).

This time was no different:  So there I was, giddy with the anticipation of fun family vacay, starting to think about packing for a road trip.  I figured it was a good time to look for, and charge, the two DVD players for each child. Along the way, I sometimes get a bit distracted. I was unpacking the players, and went searching for the charging cords. And I was like, “where the hell did I put that audio book about proper parenting? I really wanted to listen to it with Sky King. Maybe it will keep us from killing our children in a car after a 7 hour drive”.  So I begin looking.  I look high and low.  I look by the computer, where I am SURE I left it.

Then, I pull over a chair, and look ATOP the computer cabinet.  This is the indication that I am SURE Sky King has put it somewhere in his quest to “clean”.  My hackles raise (what ARE those, anyways?) because I am starting to panic that it is lost. Which cannot be.  I might just completely lose my shit over this. I have been teetering all week, what with Sky King working extra and the kiddos on a half-day. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

Let me clarify: Sky King is typically quite fantastic.  However.  When he cleans, he likes to put things away so that you can’t see them.  Place like on top of the fridge, on top of the computer desk, and on top of the cabinet by the garage door are some favorites. Do you see a trend? You see, he’s 6’2”, while I am 5’3”.  I DON’T put things up high.  Monkey boy is gaining on me, but still not in the “hiding things up high from mom” realm.  Princess doesn’t put anything away, ever, so it’s not her.

So Sky King goes around the house, seeking the things I will need the soonest, or the things that are the most important, he stacks them all together and “puts them away”.  I rarely find them.  This time WILL be different.  I WILL find that audio book.  The lives of our children depend on it.

So in the middle of finding charging cords for the DVD players, I get lost on a quest to find the audio book that Sky King hid. Typical.  (Just making sure you’re still following me…)

2 hours in, I am growing more and more frustrated.  I have both kids fearful for their lives, searching as well, all the while listening to me curse their father. (Don’t worry, they are used to it, they won’t get more scarred.) I keep going back to the same places: the basket in the bathroom, filled with old Maxims; the basket in the family room, filled with old Allergy Today and Gluten-Free Living; the baskets on the cabinet of death (more about this later); the kitchen junk drawer; my craft drawers; my bag of trip treats (more about THIS later)for the kids.  Nada.  Zilch.  Nuttin’.  At this point in my mind, I have cancelled the trip, I am so angry.  I’m talking to myself, angrily arguing with Imaginary Husband. I’m stomping through the house, tearing through each potential hiding place like a deranged Mafioso looking for the flash drive that has the video footage of me offing the kingpin I just took over for.  Crap is flying, and I don’t care. I even considered calling Sky King and using the “mental imbalance” card, to get him home so the godforsaken CD set could be found.  But no.  I can DO THIS.

I go to the bookcases again.  I glance.  I peruse.  I search.  I scour.   Luckily, all my books are sorted by color. (Genre was too difficult and scattered, and I like how it looks---don’t judge)

THERE. IT. IS.  Staring at me, in the “Navy Blue” section. 

I think to myself, “Damn. That Asshole.  Well, the only thing I can think of is that he put it with books, because it is a recitation of a book. I guess that works. “.  Then.  Then, I had a teensy tiny glimmer.  It could have been me. That is MY kind of logic, not his. He’s more of a, “this pile of crap is all square-ish, and I’m near the fridge, so I will cram it up here” kind of a guy.  I’m a “audio book is a BOOK, gloves, hats and scarves are all outer wear” kind of a gal.

I nearly wept with the frustration that I may have done this TO MYSELF.  Yet, I decide not to tell Sky King. Not only am I still in a little bit of denial about my memory issues, but he thinks his memory issues are really bad, which they are,  . So he’s still the perfect scapegoat for things that aggravate me.

I had texted him, “Hey, where’s that audio book about parenting I TOTALLY need for our trip tomorrow?” about 1 hour in.  Now, I go back and text him again….”Found it. I’ll likely kill you in the morning.”

If he doesn’t get the “Princess Bride” reference, DIVORCE!!!

That, my friends, is how you do mental illness.

And, scene.    :::deep bow:::

An Open Letter To All Who Interact with Princess

Dear People of the World:

Please do not, I repeat, DO NOT ask Princess questions.  In fact it is probably best if you just completely avoid eye contact with her, and ignore her altogether.

I know you all may be aware of her, *ahem* outgoing personality.  It’s a tad, shall we say, exuberant.  She has lots to say, and might even roll it all into a charming, rhyming song.  The song might even be somewhat inappropriate, if you’re lucky.  

Here is what we know:

She is a ball of joy.  She brings sunshine and happiness wherever she goes.  She also is VERY honest.  As in, “My mom has hair on her vagina” honest.  Yep, she tells people that. She just recently told a friend, "I was born in jail, because my mom got arrested for beating up a cop".  The friend was amused, and sad to find out the story wasn't true. Not only does she tell crazy true things, she makes up awesome lies.

We are working on the honesty in terms of what she should and should NOT share. For instance, it is not okay for her to tell the people at McDonald’s that “my mom says your food is garbage”.  Also, we try to teach her not to remark on people’s unfortunate bodily issues, because she will just try to find ways to comment in a positive way, without being offensive. Think, “Ummm, I like your shiny purple hair”, or, “Wow!  Those earrings are giant!”  Even, “I like your nose!!” 

Recently, she has upped the ante, so to speak. She is old enough to fully understand most of the adult conversations, but not old enough to know what to repeat, and what gets filed under “no one’s business”.  Therefore, I tend to watch very carefully what conversations we have when she is around.  Life usually intervenes, and I don’t get to filter enough information before it gets to her brain.

For instance:

The other day, she was at the doctor’s office with her dad.  At some point, she chose to tell the doctor, “My brother got a bunch of knives and plays with them.  He LOVES knives.”  Thanks, sweetie.  This admission resulted in a talk with dear ole dad, about how knives may not be the best option for toys for our 12 year old son.  I think my husband’s response was, “Noted.  Is that all?”

To wrap this up:

• ·         I may need to find a good esthetician to wax my bikini area
• ·         Princess talks too much
• ·         We suck at parenting
• ·         Ugly people should avoid our daughter. And our son too, because he carries knives.