I'd like mine with a side of anti-emetic, please

Happy Pukesgiving!

big strong men and a moving van

foot down.

we're not buying this house. should the heavens open up, angels drift forth and hand me an incredibly large sum of cash to be used only for the purchase of this property...

I'd say no.

TOO.MUCH.WORK.

I've had the shit (and vomit) kicked out of me for the last two...or more, I can't remember...months and DO NOT FEEL like ripping out a kitchen, replacing a bathroom, putting in a new furnace or having the trees trimmed.

oqui's got a bum shoulder, so whatever work we might've thought to do ourselves and save some money....so not gonna happen. hiring people to do the work would put us so far over our (imaginary) budget that we might as well just declare bankruptcy now.

so....today we go a'looking. we've got a short list. 6 properties. 4 school districts. prices all over the place...

one of them...will be our new home.

we're gonna lose a little chunk of money walking on this deal, but...

I don't give a hairless rat's hiney.

this place is bad news....has been from the start and we are OUTTA HE'RHE!



...oqui hates my guts over it (as does our realtor)...


but he'll just have to deal.

mercy!

I've had enough of the pukes.

sweet jesus a'mighty,

enough, already.

pllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllease stop.

pretty please.

thought

I should really take down that preggo pic...

lest I continue to get knocked up.


(thinking ahead, I am)

guilt

don't I feel like an asshole?

worse, still...don't I feel tremendously, heart-wrenchingly guilty?
yup. sure do.

we found out last week that I was pregnant with twins, but one died.

died...right about the time I wrote my hateful, selfish "do not want" blog. I KNOW I was overwhelmed; physically, emotionally, mentally...and now I know why.

but I also know that I was so reluctant and hesitant to accept my fate that I forced the little soul right out of one of my babies.

now, I'm not feeling self-indulgent and whiney, here. despite many people's attempts to convince me otherwise...I know what I did. I'm taking responsibility.

I didn't have enough. I couldn't handle being pregnant with two, nursing another, being sick, being scared, etc...and that bothers me. if I were a bit stronger. a bit more capable...a bit...sturdier, maybe both would have survived.

I've come to a place of acceptance (and pain) and am doing my best to make peace with the baby that I know felt unloved and unwanted.

I have a feeling it'll take years.

on the other hand...I'm wondering why the baby that's left chose to stay...and doing my best to think positively.

after the Prof's amazing birth (notice I didn't mention anything about the pregnancy being amazing? yeah, I still hate that part)...I was very confident that my body could handle this.

no prob. a little sickness, some hormonal upheavals, fatigue and some stretching...I got this.

now...now, I gotta admit I'm actually a little scared.

something went terribly wrong with one of my babies...

what do I have to do to protect the other?

better

pregnancy does not directly equate to a feeling of impending death, doom and despair, today.

I'll take it.


*knocking furiously on wood that I don't get all nastified sick, again. cause seriously....I really fucking hate that*

return to sender

do not want.

I don't want to be pregnant. in fact...(keeping it real here)...I don't want another baby.

do.not.want.

not at all.

call me selfish. call me careless. call me completely fucked...but that's how I feel.

I've already got a baby and he requires a good dose of attention and care...and frankly, that's about all I've got in me.

I want just a smidge of my life back. I'm not talking cocktails, tailgating, and my figure. all completely meaningless, pointless and not of my concern.

my desires are way less superficial and much more basic.

I want sleep. strength. health and exercise.

I want to climb. I want to ride...and I want to be able to nap after doing so.

I haven't slept through the night in 16 months. its driving me absolutely fucking crazy (obvious much?).

I am tired. I'm weak. I'm dizzy and I'm nauseated enough to consider killing myself and this embryo.

don't want.

(un?)fortunately, I'm of the moral fiber that abortion isn't even close to being an option. I'm BY NO MEANS a conservative, christian or even particularly judgemental...

but I can't do it.

wish I could. (REALLY wish I could)

can't do it.

my body can't take much more of this. I don't do pregnant well. I'm sickly, drained, bedraggled and ill.

I look like I'm dying. not exaggerating that. oqui actually apologized to me the other day for killing me...slowly...via pregnancy.

I FEEL LIKE I'M DYING.

the newborn days and nursing were no better for me. I couldn't eat like a real person for a year. always fatigued. always exhausted. trouble breathing.

I'm convinced I've digested portions of my heart, lungs and liver.

I'm not strong enough to do this, again. honestly...my body (and mind) have had enough.

I've been a parent my entire adult life. even before the technical start of "adulthood."

I want a break.
I need a break.


I DON'T need another baby....and there's nothing I can do about it.

unpossible

we are supposed to settle on the new house in 8 days.

ummm...no.

long story (INCREDIBLY LONG STORY) short:

-dude filed for bankruptcy 3 years ago and didn't disclose it. awesome. now the court must be involved to approve the sale, but first...

-dude has to be declared mentally competent to enter into a contract/undergo bankrupty proceedings/wipe his own ass, etc.

yes. he was declared incompetent 11 (ELEVEN FUCKING) years ago, had the deed to his home (the one we're trying to buy) transferred to his grandfather, had it transferred back when he got married WITHOUT REVERSING THE INCOMPETENCE RULING, and now the title to the home is completely fucked.

we MUST settle on this (or any other) home before November 30 in order to get the 8 grand tax credit.

so not gonna happen.

I'm livid, concerned and more nauseous than ever.

honest to god WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO LIVE???

my ex-husband is coming back for this house in 8 days...

sure hope he likes having roomies.

penis poisoning

I'm pregnant.

but too sick to talk about it in any detail.

when I stop wishing for death, I'll elaborate.

until that time...ladies, do what you can to avoid penis poisoning.

Professor Formula Breath

taking itty bittle minor steps to start weaning the Prof...

including that nasty rotting flesh formula.

he has taken (and by taken I mean he's SMITTEN with) to a cup with a straw, so I've been trying to sneak the occassional ounce or so of horse piss (ie. formula) into his wooby cup...appropriately diluted with juice, pedialyte or motor oil...you know, to improve the taste.

so far...I've gotten about 6 ounces in him. total. in 11 months.

we're obviously gonna have to take this slowly...

in non-formula weaning news; oqui got him to sleep last night without my help. hell...I wasn't even here.

the kid went to sleep without nursing, slept the entire night (who IS he???) and I woke up feeling like my chest was going to explode.

fun. fun. fun.

but...it must be done, at least to some extent.

I need the rest...

stilllll sleepy.

not as sick, but definitely TIRED TIRED TIRED.

probably just as much from my lingering swine/plague/flu/cold as from the fact that the Prof has been...shall we say...not sleeping well?

he's cutting a tooth. (never thought I'd be so proud of a little toofer, but he's about 5 months overdue and I was starting to worry. PARTICULARLY because its a symptom of celiac, but I REALLY digress....)

he stood unassisted this week. well....danced, actually. he's definitely mine. he digs throw back jams and old school hip hop.

he said, clear as a bell, "sissy." The Monkey was THRILLED.

and he finally took to the binky...about 11 months late, but if it keeps his little teething gums happy, I'm game. he's actually more interested in playing a little game of self-fetch with it...but it keeps in happy in his playpen...which HE.ABSOLUTELY.LOVES.

amen. I can pee, again.

oh, yeah...

he humps everything, too. (balls deep)

oqui finally conceeded that a DNA test isn't necessary...

the boy is his.

stillllllllllllllllllllllll sick.

cough. gag. choke. sweat.

anyone brave enough to break the quarantine is welcome to come smack me over the head with a golf club.

kthnx.

sick.

dying.

help.

I got two words for ya

rumney was a gigantic bust.

oh what a disastrous web we weave if we attempt to....can't think of a rhyming word...recreate.

t'was (yet another) trip from hell.

the baby busted out a 102 and A HALF degree fever thursday JUST prior to our departure time, putting our long awaited trip in grave jeopardy.

sweet.

fever broke the next morning (so we thought) so we put our narrow white asses in the car, met monica and got to driving...

for ten fucking hours.

the kid kept spiking a fever, we kept stopping and sticking stuff up his ass...all the while wondering why we were stupid enough to attempt this. we finally rolled into the farm around 10, 11ish...set up camp (a very long and complicated process in the dark. believe you me). finally ended up in the awesome but extremely dusty 150+ year old farmhouse that makes me sneeze and tried like hell to sleep.

no go. the fever spiked again. the kid and I couldn't breathe. we could HEAR but not participate in the full moon campfire shenanigans and life was generally miserable until sunrise.

wait. it gets better.

we set an alarm to get up early for the farm breakfast. I was promised gluten free, dairy free, (et cetera. you guys know the list) eggs, sausage and potatoes...and was pretty excited about it.

nope. the farm was overrun with french canadian sausage stealing motherfuckers (I HATE french canadian sausage stealing mother fuckers!~!!!!) who ate up all the food before we got there.

I've never been more upset about a $10 plate of over cooked cold eggs and greasy kale in my life.

we lounged around trying to recover our sensibilities and hit the crag in the early afternoon.

BLISS! rumney rock is the best on the east coast (possibly in the whole entire universe) and we thoroughly and whole-heartedly enjoyed ourselves, five minutes at a time while we managed to squeeze in three whole routes amidst the prof's constant and incessant protestation.

he finally fell asleep JUST prior to be tossed off the cliff...then monica's phone rang.

her boyfriend's grandfather took a turn for the worse and we needed to get home.

fuck me.

now, I did not at all intend to write this blog to bash our climbing buddy (which is why I waited several days to even attempt it)...but I'm gonna have to put some facts out there to really convey this entire picture.

he was sick before she left. she was asked not to leave. she chose to leave anyway knowing full well he was on his last leg.

soooo...we reluctantly (after THREE routes) headed to the farm to shower up, pack up, get fed and get on the road, again.

fuck.in.a.

on the way home, I got even more frustrated with her as she didn't help kick in for gas, didn't share in the driving and always got in the front seat.

'scuse me!?!?!

girl, I heart ya...but we're never taking a road trip together again lest I find it difficult to supress the urge to strangle ya.

separate cars, girlfriend.

separate cars.

loser!

wow.

checking out some of the girls in my old sorority on facebook.

they all seem to be doing really well. even the ones who stay home with kids are always standing in front of expensive kitchen cabinets or driving luxury cars.

I totally fucked something up.

who's a loser???

--------> THIS GIRL <----------