I can't sleep.
I don't want to sleep. Crazy thing for me to say , especially when I usually love to go to bed.
Last night a scary thing happened to me . I was looking out my bedroom window when , I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew I was awake, except I couldn't move a muscle, nothing, I couldn't talk, or hardly breathe. I was freaking out trying to call my husbands name and elbow him to help me . I could not move at all. So after what seemed like forever,which probably was only a couple of minutes, I fought with my body to make myself move. Finally, I felt movement coming back to me and I jumped up and smacked my husband and told him what happened. You know what he did said oh ,that was scary , and fell back asleep.I was pissed, and scared. In the morning we considered what had happened. We both came to the conclusion that it was sleep induced paralysis. Where you wake up but the part of your brain that controls all of your muscles doesn't actually wake up with you. I guess it is pretty common. My husband felt that I am exhausted and because of my lack of a rest my mind is playing tricks on me.What ever it was , I pray it never happens again, I actually thought I was having s heart attack .
Ever since I was a little girl I have been scared of death, of how, of when..ect.
I am one of those people who just loves life so much that I am so afraid to just be a memory. I wanna be there! I am by nature a contradictive person,
I am wild, yet demure. Strong but weak, Arrogant and insecure. Calm..yet anxious.
I sometimes have anxiety attacks about death. They just seem to come from nowhere.
Bam,there they are .I hate it . It is a part of my life I don't really tell anyone about. I see now that I am not the only one who has them. It is a liberating thought to realize , your not going crazy.
I know I worry too much, but I only get one shot at this life, I wanna get it right. My babies mean the world to me and I don't want to even think about leaving them to face this crazy ,deranged , world alone. So yes, after last nights episode, I am a little leary about entering la-la land for a restful sleep. Even though I m tired and need it desparatly.
I guess I should probably close shop down and head to bed because my head feels very heavy, and I am misspelling everything. So I will close for now , please pray that I get a decent nights rest and have no more episodes.
Thanks.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Grounds for Divorce..Abandonment?
According to my husband and children,I have abandoned them.
Now before you get your panties in a bunch, I did not leave them for the hot UPS man, the Cute Water delivery guy, or the sexy meter man.
It's the computer, or better yet it's Joy Unexpected, Dooce, Suburban Bliss, Finslippy,and No Pasa Nada,I am soo addicted to ya'll. Like I mentioned in my ode to thee blogs , I have become enthralled with these things. I have no life.
If my husband comes home and sees that there is a huge stack of dishes , or dinner isn't cooked, and general chaos is ruling over my household, I fake a headache and tell him I haven't been feeling good.(only when it comes to chores people , not with anything else.) He sits like a patient Goldren Retreiver, waiting for me to finish typing or reading that one last paragraph. He like to tease me and tell me I am online with 'my boyfriends'. Little does he know that 'my boyfriends'are a bunch of women that have the ability to look at the absurdity of parenting, or life in general and make something out of it.
My kids are also in battle with me , for the computer .. they want to play games on Disney.com, or Cartoon Network, but before they can spell .com, I am already logged on and have happily submerged myself in everyone elses business. They pout and complain, telling each other that mommy loves the computer more than them. Not really , but the computer doesn't beg to be fed, doesn't throw mud pies at a clean car, break windows, or even pour my new makeup down the drain. On the same token , my computer doesn't hug back , give smushy kisses ..or tell me I am futifull(beautiful).
Keith just doesn't get the whole 'blogging' thing. "Why would anybody want to read about us?" or " Don't tell them I like to prance around in little mini skirts , wearing your high heels , and singing "I'm a Material Girl". (Just kidding folks,I really wanted to see if you were paying attention.)Blogging is a form of therapy for me, I get all the funk in my junk out . I love to let all you people know about my hated tasks of dishes and my habitual breaking of the vaccums. I admit all my lovely faults here ,where I probably wouldn't be able to anywhere else. I admit I have pride and stumble with being humble. (isn't that a perfectly worded sentence? It is soo much better than saying I am stuck on my self and can't see past my own sexy nose.)
Reading everyone elses blogs also relaxes me and if it is a particularily rough day , I will crack a smile. or two.
When I read Y's blog (Joy Unexpected) It makes me laugh ,cry and wanna take that girl out for a drink and a night of dancing! Dooce, I love the way she handles lifes curveballs,gives them the finger,and goes on living.She gets through it with grace and humor. These are two women who have been through the throes of pregnancy, battled depression,and struggled with everyday life,they put it all on the table for us to see. These girls have big balls. They inspire me to go on with my life and realize that nobodys life is perfect,yes,children do drive you crazy,and your husband,while being the hottie he is, can still be a total PAIN . You ladies get me through the sometimes tedious,yet mostly repetitive job of being a wife and a mommy. For you chicas ,I am grateful.
So while my husbands argument that I have abandoned him and the kids may not stand in court. My mentioning him in a mini-skirt , singing Madonna tunes online, however ,will . So I better go and kiss some serious butt. I don't want to be in the doghouse again.
Now before you get your panties in a bunch, I did not leave them for the hot UPS man, the Cute Water delivery guy, or the sexy meter man.
It's the computer, or better yet it's Joy Unexpected, Dooce, Suburban Bliss, Finslippy,and No Pasa Nada,I am soo addicted to ya'll. Like I mentioned in my ode to thee blogs , I have become enthralled with these things. I have no life.
If my husband comes home and sees that there is a huge stack of dishes , or dinner isn't cooked, and general chaos is ruling over my household, I fake a headache and tell him I haven't been feeling good.(only when it comes to chores people , not with anything else.) He sits like a patient Goldren Retreiver, waiting for me to finish typing or reading that one last paragraph. He like to tease me and tell me I am online with 'my boyfriends'. Little does he know that 'my boyfriends'are a bunch of women that have the ability to look at the absurdity of parenting, or life in general and make something out of it.
My kids are also in battle with me , for the computer .. they want to play games on Disney.com, or Cartoon Network, but before they can spell .com, I am already logged on and have happily submerged myself in everyone elses business. They pout and complain, telling each other that mommy loves the computer more than them. Not really , but the computer doesn't beg to be fed, doesn't throw mud pies at a clean car, break windows, or even pour my new makeup down the drain. On the same token , my computer doesn't hug back , give smushy kisses ..or tell me I am futifull(beautiful).
Keith just doesn't get the whole 'blogging' thing. "Why would anybody want to read about us?" or " Don't tell them I like to prance around in little mini skirts , wearing your high heels , and singing "I'm a Material Girl". (Just kidding folks,I really wanted to see if you were paying attention.)Blogging is a form of therapy for me, I get all the funk in my junk out . I love to let all you people know about my hated tasks of dishes and my habitual breaking of the vaccums. I admit all my lovely faults here ,where I probably wouldn't be able to anywhere else. I admit I have pride and stumble with being humble. (isn't that a perfectly worded sentence? It is soo much better than saying I am stuck on my self and can't see past my own sexy nose.)
Reading everyone elses blogs also relaxes me and if it is a particularily rough day , I will crack a smile. or two.
When I read Y's blog (Joy Unexpected) It makes me laugh ,cry and wanna take that girl out for a drink and a night of dancing! Dooce, I love the way she handles lifes curveballs,gives them the finger,and goes on living.She gets through it with grace and humor. These are two women who have been through the throes of pregnancy, battled depression,and struggled with everyday life,they put it all on the table for us to see. These girls have big balls. They inspire me to go on with my life and realize that nobodys life is perfect,yes,children do drive you crazy,and your husband,while being the hottie he is, can still be a total PAIN . You ladies get me through the sometimes tedious,yet mostly repetitive job of being a wife and a mommy. For you chicas ,I am grateful.
So while my husbands argument that I have abandoned him and the kids may not stand in court. My mentioning him in a mini-skirt , singing Madonna tunes online, however ,will . So I better go and kiss some serious butt. I don't want to be in the doghouse again.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
in the beginning....
there was me.. now there is more than me x 7 (yes,spouse counts as kid), I have no issues with all the people it's just all the chores that go with it.
Take laundry(really please !) for instance , this is no small feat, if you miss one day you are screwed. I usually have to do about 2-3 loads aday. Now do the math if each person has 7 outfits , one for each day of the week, and there is 8 people , that is 56 items . 56 items do not fit in my washing machine all at once. Not even when I stuff them. Now realize this my children and I have more clothes than the Mall of America. I get rid of their outgrown stuff and bam we somehow aquire more. It is like owning guppies, they just keep reproducing.
Dishes is another thing , as of right now we do not own a dishwasher.(not because we live in the stone-age up here in Montana), because my very tight closet that you may call a kitchen, there is hardly enough room for my children and I to eat in, much less to put a dishwasher in. I thought about getting one of those counter top dishwashers , but the sheer size of my family's dirty dishes from one meal would make me have to do numerous loads, numerous times a day. WASTE!! Plus I have been doing dishes since I was 9 , I am fast and good. Now, if only my oldest would be this good so I can stop. One meal consists of 8 plates , umpteen silverwares, and dozen glasses. That my dear is just for lunch/ breakfast. Dinner is a whole nother story. If you count snacks in there or guests you might as well put on your resume that your a dishwasher.
General cleaning I can handle if I have working utensils of cleaning. If I had the merry maids utensils . Shoot if I had any working utensils. For every room in this house I have a broken vaccuum. No lie .I keep Hoover,Eureka, and the Red Devil, very rich. I actually have a 1960's hoover , mint condition . The only thing wrong with all these broken vaccums is that they do not have belts. Stupid,I know, lazy,I know. Believe me ,I know. My only reason for them being that way is that I run over things, and I break the belts . My husband works a million hours a day ,the last thing I really want to do is ask him to fix the vaccum. Then I get chasitised for all the things I vacuum up, money, toys, you name it I have vacuumed it up. I am sure in the book of vaccum abuse I am listed as a chronic abuser. I just have no control when it comes to vaccuming. So I just go buy new ones. Cheap new ones. Every year. I probably have bought more vaccums in one year than have gotten my oil change or a tune up, Now thats bad.
Dusting is easy just use whatever rag is near by and it's all gravy. Wiping walls is my personal demon. I hate it . With a passion. For some reason whenever I go to wash (or warsh ,as my sister -in-law calls it)Bunny Trail: What is warsh anyway? All the Montanan- Norewigians talk that way,well except for me. When I was growing up I used to argue on the correct sayings & speakings of Proper English. There is a story told again and again of how I broke my cousins nose when we were nine and she used to call spaghetti, pasgetti. ohh that still gets me heated.
ANYWAY, when I go to wash walls its like all the muscles in my arm disappear ,I just go slack. I hate washing walls. What exactly is it that posesses an eight- year old , to walk with both hands touching the walls for balance, when his 15 month old sister walks down the hallway UNASSISTED?
I always thought about hiring someone to come clean for us , like a cheap high-schooler or something , but I am horrible, I feel like I would have to clean the house up before they came to clean .I guess until I turn these children into cleaning machines , I will be toiling the day away....
Take laundry(really please !) for instance , this is no small feat, if you miss one day you are screwed. I usually have to do about 2-3 loads aday. Now do the math if each person has 7 outfits , one for each day of the week, and there is 8 people , that is 56 items . 56 items do not fit in my washing machine all at once. Not even when I stuff them. Now realize this my children and I have more clothes than the Mall of America. I get rid of their outgrown stuff and bam we somehow aquire more. It is like owning guppies, they just keep reproducing.
Dishes is another thing , as of right now we do not own a dishwasher.(not because we live in the stone-age up here in Montana), because my very tight closet that you may call a kitchen, there is hardly enough room for my children and I to eat in, much less to put a dishwasher in. I thought about getting one of those counter top dishwashers , but the sheer size of my family's dirty dishes from one meal would make me have to do numerous loads, numerous times a day. WASTE!! Plus I have been doing dishes since I was 9 , I am fast and good. Now, if only my oldest would be this good so I can stop. One meal consists of 8 plates , umpteen silverwares, and dozen glasses. That my dear is just for lunch/ breakfast. Dinner is a whole nother story. If you count snacks in there or guests you might as well put on your resume that your a dishwasher.
General cleaning I can handle if I have working utensils of cleaning. If I had the merry maids utensils . Shoot if I had any working utensils. For every room in this house I have a broken vaccuum. No lie .I keep Hoover,Eureka, and the Red Devil, very rich. I actually have a 1960's hoover , mint condition . The only thing wrong with all these broken vaccums is that they do not have belts. Stupid,I know, lazy,I know. Believe me ,I know. My only reason for them being that way is that I run over things, and I break the belts . My husband works a million hours a day ,the last thing I really want to do is ask him to fix the vaccum. Then I get chasitised for all the things I vacuum up, money, toys, you name it I have vacuumed it up. I am sure in the book of vaccum abuse I am listed as a chronic abuser. I just have no control when it comes to vaccuming. So I just go buy new ones. Cheap new ones. Every year. I probably have bought more vaccums in one year than have gotten my oil change or a tune up, Now thats bad.
Dusting is easy just use whatever rag is near by and it's all gravy. Wiping walls is my personal demon. I hate it . With a passion. For some reason whenever I go to wash (or warsh ,as my sister -in-law calls it)Bunny Trail: What is warsh anyway? All the Montanan- Norewigians talk that way,well except for me. When I was growing up I used to argue on the correct sayings & speakings of Proper English. There is a story told again and again of how I broke my cousins nose when we were nine and she used to call spaghetti, pasgetti. ohh that still gets me heated.
ANYWAY, when I go to wash walls its like all the muscles in my arm disappear ,I just go slack. I hate washing walls. What exactly is it that posesses an eight- year old , to walk with both hands touching the walls for balance, when his 15 month old sister walks down the hallway UNASSISTED?
I always thought about hiring someone to come clean for us , like a cheap high-schooler or something , but I am horrible, I feel like I would have to clean the house up before they came to clean .I guess until I turn these children into cleaning machines , I will be toiling the day away....
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