I worked yesterday. I'm having another fucking period. This means I was tired and grouchy and bitchy today. I only work 3-4 days/month so when I do have to work, it's quite a process. I rarely ever go to bed before at least midnight. So getting up at 0430 really makes my life a living fucking hell when I do have to work. I do not ever have an issue with sleeping. I just like to spend some time to myself before I go to bed at night. It's my way of unwinding from the day, if you will. I know. I'm more or less a stay-at-home-mom. What unwinding could I possibly need? Ha!! Have you ever spent an entire day with three small children? All of them screaming at you at the same time for one thing or another? Melt downs, tripping over toys, them smacking each other, them screaming at each other, them throwing their toys, food, etc.? It may not be physically draining all the time but it's damn sure mentally and emotionally draining ALL the time!! You have to watch what you say, what you do, what look you give them, what look you don't give them. I'm raising the next generation here! I don't want them to turn out as fucked up as me! With that in mind, I may just start saving for their therapy now!
Today sucked big, fat, hairy, sweat stained balls. I wish I had a do over but I don't. Tomorrow HAS to be better! Tomorrow I HAVE to be a better person, a better mom. I HAVE to be more attentive. I HAVE to stop using the excuse that "I'm busy" for the reason that I can't drop the fucking eggs at that very second to look at the same picture of the scribbled....whatever the hell it is....that I have saw 6 times in the last half hour. I HAVE to stop being a bitch when my son starts bossing the other two around because I get so sick of him doing that! Only to realize, he's doing the same thing that I do to him every.single.day.
I lost my shit too many times today. So much so that I gave myself a headache. I was pissed when they sprayed each other with the hose after being told not to 5 times, leaving huge puddles in our $480 hydroseed potentially killing the up and coming grass. I was pissed when they tracked mud all over the downstairs AFTER I told them to undress in the garage and put their muddy clothes in the utility sink. I was pissed when they drug out every damn Lego they own and scattered them all over the upstairs living room. I was pissed when they wouldn't pick up the toys, when they acted like circus monkeys while we were eating dinner, when they almost flooded the damn bathroom because they were playing with the new stack of Dixie cups for rinsing after brushing thus ruining about 10 of them, when they didn't put away their outside toys and I almost ran over a tricycle, when they wouldn't get ready for t-ball like I asked 6 times thereby making us 20 minutes late, when they wouldn't get ready for bed, when they wouldn't stay in said bed, when I had to take a hand full of ibuprofen for the headache that I blamed solely on them but was also caused by lack of sleep, dehydration and probably too much coffee.
I love my kids but I'm going to have to start leaving them with a sitter more often and pick up more shifts. We don't need the money. I just need my sanity. I don't want to go on play dates. I don't want to go to a friends' house. I don't want friends to come to my house. I want a day where I don't have to listen to them fighting and arguing and me having to holler at them to get their attention. I swear they do not hear me unless I'm screaming like some fucking banshee. I can't take it anymore. I can't take being "that" mom. For now, I'll distance myself from them and them from me. Maybe one day I'll more appreciate having spent all this time with them while they were little. But maybe, just maybe one day, they'll appreciate me having done all the things that I do. Because right now, I feel like the only fucking reason I'm here is to please everyone else that lives in this house. Fuck what I want. Fuck how I feel. I'm totally overwhelmed and I just can't take it anymore.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Has it really been THAT long????
This post isn't going to be mushy. It's not going to be mean. It's not going to be real pretty either.....
Twenty years ago today, my father died. I was 16. My younger sisters were 14 and 12 and my little brother was 9. My parents had divorced 7 years prior to this. We rarely saw my dad.....he lived literally 2 minutes from where we did. Although in a town of only 500 people, it wasn't very hard to get from one end to the other in less than 5 minutes. Any who...back to Mike (aka Dad). He was a kind man. He never bothered anyone except my mother LOL. Although, everyone and everything bothered her. Still does. Other than my mother, the other reasons we never saw my father were: alcohol, fishing, hunting and his friends. And, did I mention alcohol?? You see my father never really grew up. Not completely anyway. He always believed that he would fish and drink until he was too old to do either any longer. His friends, alcohol, fishing and hunting came first. This is all fine and good except when you have a family to care for and about. After their divorce, he would call to ask to take just my brother fishing because "girls don't fish". My mother would of course tell him not unless he was taking all of us. This would piss him off, her off and none of us would end up going. Hell! We didn't even know he had called! My mother would keep that information to herself. I don't know if she did it to protect us or to be a bitch or both. I don't really care anymore truthfully.
Approximately two weeks prior to my father's death, my mother and I had a big one. By "big one", I mean we had an all out brawl. You see my mother and I have never really gotten along. We especially didn't when I was younger. Maybe it was teenage hormones. Maybe it was me just being an asshole teenager. But mostly, it was a lack of respect on both our parts. The way I see it, I had ruined her party life and her life in general 16 years prior to that when she became pregnant with yours truly. From a man she barely knew. Because her philosophy was and I quote, "If he was good enough to take me out, he was good enough to have sex with."....I'm not going to delve into that "amazing advice" in this post. We'll save that for another time.
I lived with a friend for a while after our blow out. Then one day my mother decided that she was going to give a shit and called and told me that I had to come home. I told her to shove it. She said that she was responsible for me until I was 18 and I was coming home whether I liked it or not. I told her to fuck off and that I was moving in with Dad. This of course pissed her off beyond belief but she really had no choice. So I called Dad, fucked up his freedom and moved in with him. Two days later, shit went south.
I asked Dad if I could go stay at my friend's house for the night. #1: I had new found freedom. Dad was drunk all the time. He'd never know what I was actually ever doing. #2: I didn't want to listen to his drunk, babbling bullshit when he got home from the bar. I walked into the bar to talk to him (you can do that in small, rural communities). He was well on his way to being hammered already. No surprise there. I talked to him briefly to let him know my plans. Now here's where it gets a little odd/mushy/whatever the hell you want to call it. I remember standing there and for some unknown reason thinking to myself, "Remember this moment RIGHT NOW! Memorize the design of the plaid in his shirt. Memorize his face. Memorize his goofy grin. Memorize his long, jet black hair that Grandma always hated. Memorize his eyes, the same exact dark green eyes that you have. Remember this very moment.....Right.Now." He asked that I come back later and he'd let me know his answer. My friend and I drove around the town for a while. We later met up with him at his house. I asked if it was ok that we were going to her house to watch movies. Her mom was going to be there. And she was. It was all the truth. I will never forget the look in his eyes. I will never forget the slight hint of a plea in his voice when he almost begged us to stay there with him. At the time, I thought he was just drunk and wanted to blab. Again, I thought, "Not real interested in listening to your shit Dad. You've had my entire life to talk to me. You never fucking bothered then. Why is now so fucking important?!!"
My friend and I left to go to her house. We started a movie with her little brother while her mom did mom stuff around the house. Approximately one hour later, we heard it. The fire whistle that alerted the entire town started screaming. It alerted the volunteer firemen to come running. My friend's little brother saw the smoke and said, "Shit!! That's right here in town!!! We should go see where it is!" So like good little nosy small town people, that's exactly what we did. It was windy that night. So fucking windy. It generally is in eastern Montana. There are no trees or hills to block it. It just whips through. We kept driving towards the smoke. Getting closer and closer to my father's house. Yep! It was his house that was on fire! I attempted to jump out before I even realized what I was doing. I was stopped by my shirt collar choking me. What the fuck?!! I tried to pull harder and harder. Then I realized my friend's mom had a hold of my shirt and wasn't going to let loose until I promised that I wouldn't go running over there. She spoke to the deputy sheriff. I screamed at him. We spoke to one of the firemen who also worked with my dad and had for many years. They were pretty good buds. He was visibly shaken. I kept saying, "Cal, where's my dad? Where the fuck is my dad? Where.The.Fuck.IS.HE?!!!!!" The only response I would get was, "We don't know. We're looking Meccala. We're trying. We don't think he's in there though." Where the fuck would he have gone? His pick-up was still parked in the drive way. The same place it was when I left to go to my friend's house. Maybe he had ran to the neighbors'. Maybe he had just ran period.
The whole front half of that stupid fucking trailer house was engulfed in flames. The kitchen sat in the very middle. I just knew that he had put in the fucking chicken he had been talking about and the stove started the place on fire. He had some how fucked up cooking a chicken. I just KNEW it! My dad's place NEVER was in the kitchen!!
My friend's mom said, "Let's go to the ER. If he some how got out and is hurt, he's there." We drove the 2 minutes there and yep. There he was. Laying there on that gurney with second and third degree burns covering his entire upper body. His hair was singed. His face was burnt and getting puffy. His hands were black. So, so black. They were trying to cut off and peel off what was left of his shirt. He had an IV going in his foot (only veins they had any sort of access to). Somewhere in there, someone called my mom. She showed up and even though we wanted to kill one another two days prior, she was obviously very relieved to find that I too was not in the same condition as dad. They stabilized him and threw him in an ambulance for the next "big" town on the grid. We (mom and I) went home and gathered up my sisters and brother to follow the ambulance. Thinking back, I'm pretty sure she knew this was the last time we would see him alive. She was right. We said good bye to him in Glendive, MT. He was flown to the Salt Lake City, UT burn unit. We never saw him again. One week later, he died from complications of infection. We never went to visit him. We couldn't. We didn't have the money. My mom had just finished nursing school. She was broke as shit what with raising four kids on menial child support and her few hours as an aid here and there at the local nursing home. My grandparents (mom's parents) worked to get us the money to fly there but by the time everything was in place, he had already passed away. My Grandma (his mom) and my aunt (his sister) went there. They flew out right away. That's a whole other story that I'd rather not get into right now. Suffice it to say, they were too busy shopping and taking pictures of his bloated, burned body to give two fucks whether or not he was actually still alive. My aunt always was the better of the two siblings. Don't believe me? Just ask her! She'll tell you exactly how fucking great she is!! She later shoved those pictures in my little 9 year old brother's face so he could see. Pretty fucking sweet of her huh?! I wanted to punch her right in her perfect fucking teeth!
In the end, we found out the truth. This according to Fire Marshal Bill (hehe....ok not funny), he attempted to light the pilot light on his furnace which lived in a closet right off the kitchen. It blew up in his face. It's theorized that he was able to crawl to the front porch. And that he was attempting to make his way out but was trapped. Probably by fire and by smoke and by complete drunkenness and by fear and by pain and by multiple deep, deep burns covering half of his body. Two guys I went to high school with happened to be driving around and saw the smoke first. They crawled in and pulled his ass out. They threw him in the back of the pick-up. One sat with him keeping him warm while the other "flew" to the ER.
It makes me sad that he suffered such a horrible death. He was a good person. He was a very like able person. It makes me sad that he wasn't here to see his kids grow up. That he's not here to see his grandchildren grow up. It makes me sad that I didn't know my dad hardly at all. It makes me sad that I really didn't have a dad growing up. It makes me sad that my sisters and brother didn't have a dad growing up either. It makes me sad that he chose alcohol over his children.
I have memories of him. The most memorable though? The design of the plaid in his shirt. His face. His goofy grin. His long, jet black hair that Grandma always hated and his eyes, the same exact dark green eyes that I have.
Thanks all for reading.
Twenty years ago today, my father died. I was 16. My younger sisters were 14 and 12 and my little brother was 9. My parents had divorced 7 years prior to this. We rarely saw my dad.....he lived literally 2 minutes from where we did. Although in a town of only 500 people, it wasn't very hard to get from one end to the other in less than 5 minutes. Any who...back to Mike (aka Dad). He was a kind man. He never bothered anyone except my mother LOL. Although, everyone and everything bothered her. Still does. Other than my mother, the other reasons we never saw my father were: alcohol, fishing, hunting and his friends. And, did I mention alcohol?? You see my father never really grew up. Not completely anyway. He always believed that he would fish and drink until he was too old to do either any longer. His friends, alcohol, fishing and hunting came first. This is all fine and good except when you have a family to care for and about. After their divorce, he would call to ask to take just my brother fishing because "girls don't fish". My mother would of course tell him not unless he was taking all of us. This would piss him off, her off and none of us would end up going. Hell! We didn't even know he had called! My mother would keep that information to herself. I don't know if she did it to protect us or to be a bitch or both. I don't really care anymore truthfully.
Approximately two weeks prior to my father's death, my mother and I had a big one. By "big one", I mean we had an all out brawl. You see my mother and I have never really gotten along. We especially didn't when I was younger. Maybe it was teenage hormones. Maybe it was me just being an asshole teenager. But mostly, it was a lack of respect on both our parts. The way I see it, I had ruined her party life and her life in general 16 years prior to that when she became pregnant with yours truly. From a man she barely knew. Because her philosophy was and I quote, "If he was good enough to take me out, he was good enough to have sex with."....I'm not going to delve into that "amazing advice" in this post. We'll save that for another time.
I lived with a friend for a while after our blow out. Then one day my mother decided that she was going to give a shit and called and told me that I had to come home. I told her to shove it. She said that she was responsible for me until I was 18 and I was coming home whether I liked it or not. I told her to fuck off and that I was moving in with Dad. This of course pissed her off beyond belief but she really had no choice. So I called Dad, fucked up his freedom and moved in with him. Two days later, shit went south.
I asked Dad if I could go stay at my friend's house for the night. #1: I had new found freedom. Dad was drunk all the time. He'd never know what I was actually ever doing. #2: I didn't want to listen to his drunk, babbling bullshit when he got home from the bar. I walked into the bar to talk to him (you can do that in small, rural communities). He was well on his way to being hammered already. No surprise there. I talked to him briefly to let him know my plans. Now here's where it gets a little odd/mushy/whatever the hell you want to call it. I remember standing there and for some unknown reason thinking to myself, "Remember this moment RIGHT NOW! Memorize the design of the plaid in his shirt. Memorize his face. Memorize his goofy grin. Memorize his long, jet black hair that Grandma always hated. Memorize his eyes, the same exact dark green eyes that you have. Remember this very moment.....Right.Now." He asked that I come back later and he'd let me know his answer. My friend and I drove around the town for a while. We later met up with him at his house. I asked if it was ok that we were going to her house to watch movies. Her mom was going to be there. And she was. It was all the truth. I will never forget the look in his eyes. I will never forget the slight hint of a plea in his voice when he almost begged us to stay there with him. At the time, I thought he was just drunk and wanted to blab. Again, I thought, "Not real interested in listening to your shit Dad. You've had my entire life to talk to me. You never fucking bothered then. Why is now so fucking important?!!"
My friend and I left to go to her house. We started a movie with her little brother while her mom did mom stuff around the house. Approximately one hour later, we heard it. The fire whistle that alerted the entire town started screaming. It alerted the volunteer firemen to come running. My friend's little brother saw the smoke and said, "Shit!! That's right here in town!!! We should go see where it is!" So like good little nosy small town people, that's exactly what we did. It was windy that night. So fucking windy. It generally is in eastern Montana. There are no trees or hills to block it. It just whips through. We kept driving towards the smoke. Getting closer and closer to my father's house. Yep! It was his house that was on fire! I attempted to jump out before I even realized what I was doing. I was stopped by my shirt collar choking me. What the fuck?!! I tried to pull harder and harder. Then I realized my friend's mom had a hold of my shirt and wasn't going to let loose until I promised that I wouldn't go running over there. She spoke to the deputy sheriff. I screamed at him. We spoke to one of the firemen who also worked with my dad and had for many years. They were pretty good buds. He was visibly shaken. I kept saying, "Cal, where's my dad? Where the fuck is my dad? Where.The.Fuck.IS.HE?!!!!!" The only response I would get was, "We don't know. We're looking Meccala. We're trying. We don't think he's in there though." Where the fuck would he have gone? His pick-up was still parked in the drive way. The same place it was when I left to go to my friend's house. Maybe he had ran to the neighbors'. Maybe he had just ran period.
The whole front half of that stupid fucking trailer house was engulfed in flames. The kitchen sat in the very middle. I just knew that he had put in the fucking chicken he had been talking about and the stove started the place on fire. He had some how fucked up cooking a chicken. I just KNEW it! My dad's place NEVER was in the kitchen!!
My friend's mom said, "Let's go to the ER. If he some how got out and is hurt, he's there." We drove the 2 minutes there and yep. There he was. Laying there on that gurney with second and third degree burns covering his entire upper body. His hair was singed. His face was burnt and getting puffy. His hands were black. So, so black. They were trying to cut off and peel off what was left of his shirt. He had an IV going in his foot (only veins they had any sort of access to). Somewhere in there, someone called my mom. She showed up and even though we wanted to kill one another two days prior, she was obviously very relieved to find that I too was not in the same condition as dad. They stabilized him and threw him in an ambulance for the next "big" town on the grid. We (mom and I) went home and gathered up my sisters and brother to follow the ambulance. Thinking back, I'm pretty sure she knew this was the last time we would see him alive. She was right. We said good bye to him in Glendive, MT. He was flown to the Salt Lake City, UT burn unit. We never saw him again. One week later, he died from complications of infection. We never went to visit him. We couldn't. We didn't have the money. My mom had just finished nursing school. She was broke as shit what with raising four kids on menial child support and her few hours as an aid here and there at the local nursing home. My grandparents (mom's parents) worked to get us the money to fly there but by the time everything was in place, he had already passed away. My Grandma (his mom) and my aunt (his sister) went there. They flew out right away. That's a whole other story that I'd rather not get into right now. Suffice it to say, they were too busy shopping and taking pictures of his bloated, burned body to give two fucks whether or not he was actually still alive. My aunt always was the better of the two siblings. Don't believe me? Just ask her! She'll tell you exactly how fucking great she is!! She later shoved those pictures in my little 9 year old brother's face so he could see. Pretty fucking sweet of her huh?! I wanted to punch her right in her perfect fucking teeth!
In the end, we found out the truth. This according to Fire Marshal Bill (hehe....ok not funny), he attempted to light the pilot light on his furnace which lived in a closet right off the kitchen. It blew up in his face. It's theorized that he was able to crawl to the front porch. And that he was attempting to make his way out but was trapped. Probably by fire and by smoke and by complete drunkenness and by fear and by pain and by multiple deep, deep burns covering half of his body. Two guys I went to high school with happened to be driving around and saw the smoke first. They crawled in and pulled his ass out. They threw him in the back of the pick-up. One sat with him keeping him warm while the other "flew" to the ER.
It makes me sad that he suffered such a horrible death. He was a good person. He was a very like able person. It makes me sad that he wasn't here to see his kids grow up. That he's not here to see his grandchildren grow up. It makes me sad that I didn't know my dad hardly at all. It makes me sad that I really didn't have a dad growing up. It makes me sad that my sisters and brother didn't have a dad growing up either. It makes me sad that he chose alcohol over his children.
I have memories of him. The most memorable though? The design of the plaid in his shirt. His face. His goofy grin. His long, jet black hair that Grandma always hated and his eyes, the same exact dark green eyes that I have.
Thanks all for reading.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Is she still alive??
So it's been a really long time since I've wrote anything on here. Yes! I am still alive! Thanks for asking! LOL The last post was a direct bitch/rant/rave fest about a misunderstanding that I'm still pissed off about. Whatever....moving on.
I'd like to be a bit more candid on here than I am on my page. On the page, it's all for laughs. I post random shit. Everyone giggles. Everyone goes on about their day. This? This here was suppose to be my outlet. My "get away" page. I have friends and family that look at this from time to time I'm sure so I've been pretty tame thus far. I've decided that I don't really give a fuck anymore what they like or see or read or could care less about. This is MY page and it's going to be about ME. Selfish enough for ya?? You know, I don't really fucking care!
I just spent the last hour reading through a fellow bloggers blog. She has fought her way through severe...let me say it again just in case....SEVERE child abuse, alcoholism (twice), an all around neighborhood full of asswads and yet she has prevailed! She's sober! She and her ex-husband are doing well to raise their daughters the best they can. She's an inspiration to many, including myself. In her attitude and charisma that is. I don't feel that I was severely abused as a child. My mother went way over the top on many occasions but nothing that almost killed me such as Sam that I mentioned above. Alcoholism?? It ran in my family. My father, grandfather, a couple uncles, a sister. Myself? I don't feel that I have a problem. Although, they say denial is the first step to overcome. I definitely use to have a problem. When you go out with friends to "get so drunk that you puke", that's a problem. When you purposely wear your hair back in a baseball cap so as not to worry about puke flying in your hair later, that's a problem. When you want to get drunk so drunk that you forget who you are because your mom is an a-one fucking bitch, that's a problem. I don't mean she's a bitch because she won't let you go stay at your friends house. I don't mean bitch because of all the "normal" shit kids get in trouble for. If you have read my previous blogs, you know why I say bitch. I don't really want to delve into right now though.
I do however have a secret to tell you. I have a super power. I have TREMENDOUS will power and I'm stubborn as shit!. If I don't want to do something, I don't. If I don't want to continue to do something, I stop. I know this does NOT work for everyone and I'm not making fun of anyone. I'm just saying, it works for me. When I wanted to stop smoking, I stopped. Cold turkey. I have had one drag off a cigarette in the past 11 years and it was disgusting!!! I can honestly say, I will not ever smoke again. I don't crave it. I don't want it. In fact if I smell someone that has just smoked or smell cigarette smoke, I almost gag.
Alcohol?? I don't want to quit drinking. I like the taste of some alcohol. I like the calming effect that it gives me. If I want a beer, I have a beer. If I want one glass of wine, I have one glass of wine. If I don't want to drink, I don't drink. There are so many in my family that can not and will not ever be able to say the same thing. It makes me sad. It makes me mad. It makes me want to grab them and shake them until it either knocks some sense into their drunk brain or it knocks them unconscious and they can not guzzle down that last beer they've been hiding in the back of the fridge.
Recently The Hubs decided that he was fast approaching a drinking problem. His father was a drunk and a druggie. He's afraid he will be the same. He isn't one to be able to drink just one beer. If he has a six pack, he drinks the whole thing. If he has a 12 pack, he drinks the whole thing. His father was the same way. The difference being is his father was also an asshole. The Hubs was never an asshole when he was drinking. He has never abandoned us (his family) to go drinking all weekend, week, etc. with his buddies. He has never drank his paycheck away and told his kids that there was no money for food. I've never had to scrounge for ANYTHING and/or EVERYTHING just to feed my children as his mom did when he was little. I've never had to steal nips out of his stash of weed to turn around and sell to his friends as his mom did so that our children didn't go hungry. But if he tells me that he's afraid that he's developing a drinking problem, I will support him. Because I love him. Because I don't want him to be his dad or my dad or my grandfather or my uncle or my sister. I don't want our kids to grow up with that shit either. The embarrassment of your dad so drunk that he can't hold up his own head. The embarrassment of your dad being so drunk that even if you could talk in tongues, you still couldn't understand him. The shear joy of listening to your mother rant and rave about the drunk fucking asshole in the bedroom that won't stop fucking snoring. The shear joy of said mother kicking a fucking hole in the shitty, cheap trailer house bedroom door when she'd had enough. It all sounds so glamorous! And that folks is why I wait for everyone to go to bed before I bust out the wine! It saves face. And really, it just saves lives!
I'd like to be a bit more candid on here than I am on my page. On the page, it's all for laughs. I post random shit. Everyone giggles. Everyone goes on about their day. This? This here was suppose to be my outlet. My "get away" page. I have friends and family that look at this from time to time I'm sure so I've been pretty tame thus far. I've decided that I don't really give a fuck anymore what they like or see or read or could care less about. This is MY page and it's going to be about ME. Selfish enough for ya?? You know, I don't really fucking care!
I just spent the last hour reading through a fellow bloggers blog. She has fought her way through severe...let me say it again just in case....SEVERE child abuse, alcoholism (twice), an all around neighborhood full of asswads and yet she has prevailed! She's sober! She and her ex-husband are doing well to raise their daughters the best they can. She's an inspiration to many, including myself. In her attitude and charisma that is. I don't feel that I was severely abused as a child. My mother went way over the top on many occasions but nothing that almost killed me such as Sam that I mentioned above. Alcoholism?? It ran in my family. My father, grandfather, a couple uncles, a sister. Myself? I don't feel that I have a problem. Although, they say denial is the first step to overcome. I definitely use to have a problem. When you go out with friends to "get so drunk that you puke", that's a problem. When you purposely wear your hair back in a baseball cap so as not to worry about puke flying in your hair later, that's a problem. When you want to get drunk so drunk that you forget who you are because your mom is an a-one fucking bitch, that's a problem. I don't mean she's a bitch because she won't let you go stay at your friends house. I don't mean bitch because of all the "normal" shit kids get in trouble for. If you have read my previous blogs, you know why I say bitch. I don't really want to delve into right now though.
I do however have a secret to tell you. I have a super power. I have TREMENDOUS will power and I'm stubborn as shit!. If I don't want to do something, I don't. If I don't want to continue to do something, I stop. I know this does NOT work for everyone and I'm not making fun of anyone. I'm just saying, it works for me. When I wanted to stop smoking, I stopped. Cold turkey. I have had one drag off a cigarette in the past 11 years and it was disgusting!!! I can honestly say, I will not ever smoke again. I don't crave it. I don't want it. In fact if I smell someone that has just smoked or smell cigarette smoke, I almost gag.
Alcohol?? I don't want to quit drinking. I like the taste of some alcohol. I like the calming effect that it gives me. If I want a beer, I have a beer. If I want one glass of wine, I have one glass of wine. If I don't want to drink, I don't drink. There are so many in my family that can not and will not ever be able to say the same thing. It makes me sad. It makes me mad. It makes me want to grab them and shake them until it either knocks some sense into their drunk brain or it knocks them unconscious and they can not guzzle down that last beer they've been hiding in the back of the fridge.
Recently The Hubs decided that he was fast approaching a drinking problem. His father was a drunk and a druggie. He's afraid he will be the same. He isn't one to be able to drink just one beer. If he has a six pack, he drinks the whole thing. If he has a 12 pack, he drinks the whole thing. His father was the same way. The difference being is his father was also an asshole. The Hubs was never an asshole when he was drinking. He has never abandoned us (his family) to go drinking all weekend, week, etc. with his buddies. He has never drank his paycheck away and told his kids that there was no money for food. I've never had to scrounge for ANYTHING and/or EVERYTHING just to feed my children as his mom did when he was little. I've never had to steal nips out of his stash of weed to turn around and sell to his friends as his mom did so that our children didn't go hungry. But if he tells me that he's afraid that he's developing a drinking problem, I will support him. Because I love him. Because I don't want him to be his dad or my dad or my grandfather or my uncle or my sister. I don't want our kids to grow up with that shit either. The embarrassment of your dad so drunk that he can't hold up his own head. The embarrassment of your dad being so drunk that even if you could talk in tongues, you still couldn't understand him. The shear joy of listening to your mother rant and rave about the drunk fucking asshole in the bedroom that won't stop fucking snoring. The shear joy of said mother kicking a fucking hole in the shitty, cheap trailer house bedroom door when she'd had enough. It all sounds so glamorous! And that folks is why I wait for everyone to go to bed before I bust out the wine! It saves face. And really, it just saves lives!
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Who's that bitch over there??!!!
I know that this short but "sweet" entry will not explain everything but it will in fact make me feel better. I have been a big bitch lately. I know I have. I keep blaming it on a period or the kids being a-holes. Yes, I just said my kids are a-holes from time to time. It's the truth!! Every child has their fucking moments! Apparently that shit never goes away and tis the reason I am writing this crappy post.
So here goes....Have you ever been so angry at someone for not being the person you thought they were? To the point that you want to tell them to go fuck themselves? To the point that you don't really care if you ever speak to them again? To the point that you wish they would just lose your fucking number? To the point where you know if you do ever talk to them again that you will most likely leave them in a crying, slobbering, snotting heap all while wishing you had the correct plumbing so you could piss on them before walking away?
Yeah, me neither.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
How's your dingle berries??
We started the day like any other here on the home front. Mass confusion followed by mass fuckery followed by mom losing her shit. Why do kids have to act that way?? Why is one day any different from the other? When did it become "ok" to do as we please rather than what needs to be got the hell done in the mornings??? Every. Single. Morning...."Hey guys, get dressed, brush your teeth and make your beds". Yes, I know they're only 4 and 7 but all I've asked them to do is "sit on your pillow, grab the corners of the sheet and comforter and pull 'em up". Simple right?? Apparently not!! I still have to tell them every single day to do those three simple tasks. Also, the boys have bunk beds. My fat ass is not schlepping up the ladder to make anyone's bed. AND every time I bend down to make the smallish one's bed, I whack my fucking head. Every. Damn. Time.
As I said we started this day like any other, then shit went south real fast.....The oldest felt it was his morning to tell me how shit was going to go down. The middle one decided he wasn't getting dressed and he was NOT going to go to preschool. The littlest one just ran in circles singing some annoying Dora song. I was sure eventually she'd fall down and barf from being dizzy but no. She just kept on going. Kids are so fricking weird!! All of this of course drove the mom into a complete mental awareness of her pending doom. Of course I was tired. Of course I didn't go to bed early enough last night. Of course I just wanted to go back to sleep and forget that school even exists. BUT...I couldn't. So instead, I put the smack down! I wasn't having the attitude of a 7 yr old and the stubborn bullshit of a 4 yr old slow me down! I was going to get through this morning! There would be survivors damn it!!! I'm a nurse! I save people's asses all the time! I hold pressure on profusely bleeding wounds! I pull people back from the brink of "the light" all the time! I perform CPR! I give mouth-to-mouth for fuck's sake!! *shudder* I HAVE to keep my cool in these situations! I can do this shit! Or....at least I thought I could. Today was NOT my fucking day!
The ride to school was an immense mess of screaming, fighting, arguing and just mass bullshit! I've never seen two people more fucking concerned with the other one's toy in my life! It was ri-dic-u-lous!!! "I want that! Give it to me now!" "NO, I HAD IT FIRST!" Whack, smack, scream, holler, scream some more....Then, oh then, enter mom. Mind you, I have never talked to my kids the way I did today...ever! I had had enough!! Could not take anymore bullshit! We were running almost 20 minutes late. TWENTY!!! I was past the eye twitch phase. I was past the steam pouring from my ears phase. I was in the glowing red eyes, waiting in the shadows to pounce and eat them raw, while screaming like a banshee phase!
Without warning, I yanked the wheel to the side of the road. I slammed on the brakes. I whipped around and proceeded to start screaming! Not yelling but SCREAMING!! I don't even remember what I said. I just know it was horrible!!!! Needless to say, the rest of the ride was extremely quite. I got the 4yr old dropped off and headed to the 7yr old's school. Of course we were 15 min. late for one and 10 min. early for the other. SMFH!! The school doesn't want the kids to go in too early so I pulled into the parking lot in hopes of apologizing for becoming Poltergeist earlier. And then it happened, the 7yr old started in on me! "I want to go in. Why can't I go in? I want to go in NOW mommy! All of my friends are going in. I want to go in!!! Mommy!! Mommy!!! MOMMMMMMYYYY!!!!"
I finally, very calmly turned to him and said, "You will go in when it is time. If you say one more word about going in, you will NEVER go in again! Do you understand what I'm laying down here?" He didn't get it and of course it just led to more bitching and whining and moaning and complaining until I finally told him to get out and go in. "Have a good day, bud!" "Whatever....mommy" Yes child, what-the-fuck-ever.
After school was even worse. It was a total melt down about going to karate. A mess of quantum levels in the parking lot at karate. I was so mad that my heart was hurting. I do not mean "breaking". I mean hurting! My left arm was numb. The fingers on my left hand were tingling. I was sure I was going to die right there! The child's incessant mockery of my parenting abilities then led to a skipped karate and a come home literally minutes before karate was starting. Then a fast jog to the bedroom for the night with the warning to never emerge again....at least not until morning.
I was left wondering, Why can't I be sent to my room for bad behavior?? I'd break every glass object, slam every door, throw every toy in this house to enjoy the peace and quite of my room for the evening if that's what it took!
Today sucked huge sweaty dingle berry assholes!! I can honestly say, I hated today. I hated everything about this shitty, sweaty, ass sucking day. All I know is, I have no idea whom that lady was today and I never want to meet her again! She was, bluntly, a fucking raging cunt and she scared me.
Night friends.
Meccala
As I said we started this day like any other, then shit went south real fast.....The oldest felt it was his morning to tell me how shit was going to go down. The middle one decided he wasn't getting dressed and he was NOT going to go to preschool. The littlest one just ran in circles singing some annoying Dora song. I was sure eventually she'd fall down and barf from being dizzy but no. She just kept on going. Kids are so fricking weird!! All of this of course drove the mom into a complete mental awareness of her pending doom. Of course I was tired. Of course I didn't go to bed early enough last night. Of course I just wanted to go back to sleep and forget that school even exists. BUT...I couldn't. So instead, I put the smack down! I wasn't having the attitude of a 7 yr old and the stubborn bullshit of a 4 yr old slow me down! I was going to get through this morning! There would be survivors damn it!!! I'm a nurse! I save people's asses all the time! I hold pressure on profusely bleeding wounds! I pull people back from the brink of "the light" all the time! I perform CPR! I give mouth-to-mouth for fuck's sake!! *shudder* I HAVE to keep my cool in these situations! I can do this shit! Or....at least I thought I could. Today was NOT my fucking day!
The ride to school was an immense mess of screaming, fighting, arguing and just mass bullshit! I've never seen two people more fucking concerned with the other one's toy in my life! It was ri-dic-u-lous!!! "I want that! Give it to me now!" "NO, I HAD IT FIRST!" Whack, smack, scream, holler, scream some more....Then, oh then, enter mom. Mind you, I have never talked to my kids the way I did today...ever! I had had enough!! Could not take anymore bullshit! We were running almost 20 minutes late. TWENTY!!! I was past the eye twitch phase. I was past the steam pouring from my ears phase. I was in the glowing red eyes, waiting in the shadows to pounce and eat them raw, while screaming like a banshee phase!
Without warning, I yanked the wheel to the side of the road. I slammed on the brakes. I whipped around and proceeded to start screaming! Not yelling but SCREAMING!! I don't even remember what I said. I just know it was horrible!!!! Needless to say, the rest of the ride was extremely quite. I got the 4yr old dropped off and headed to the 7yr old's school. Of course we were 15 min. late for one and 10 min. early for the other. SMFH!! The school doesn't want the kids to go in too early so I pulled into the parking lot in hopes of apologizing for becoming Poltergeist earlier. And then it happened, the 7yr old started in on me! "I want to go in. Why can't I go in? I want to go in NOW mommy! All of my friends are going in. I want to go in!!! Mommy!! Mommy!!! MOMMMMMMYYYY!!!!"
I finally, very calmly turned to him and said, "You will go in when it is time. If you say one more word about going in, you will NEVER go in again! Do you understand what I'm laying down here?" He didn't get it and of course it just led to more bitching and whining and moaning and complaining until I finally told him to get out and go in. "Have a good day, bud!" "Whatever....mommy" Yes child, what-the-fuck-ever.
After school was even worse. It was a total melt down about going to karate. A mess of quantum levels in the parking lot at karate. I was so mad that my heart was hurting. I do not mean "breaking". I mean hurting! My left arm was numb. The fingers on my left hand were tingling. I was sure I was going to die right there! The child's incessant mockery of my parenting abilities then led to a skipped karate and a come home literally minutes before karate was starting. Then a fast jog to the bedroom for the night with the warning to never emerge again....at least not until morning.
I was left wondering, Why can't I be sent to my room for bad behavior?? I'd break every glass object, slam every door, throw every toy in this house to enjoy the peace and quite of my room for the evening if that's what it took!
Today sucked huge sweaty dingle berry assholes!! I can honestly say, I hated today. I hated everything about this shitty, sweaty, ass sucking day. All I know is, I have no idea whom that lady was today and I never want to meet her again! She was, bluntly, a fucking raging cunt and she scared me.
Night friends.
Meccala
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Sorry it's been so long....
Sorry all that I haven't wrote a blog in....well, forever!! Honestly I didn't think anyone was really reading them anyway so I just kind of stopped. Then I had someone ask why I hadn't written in so long. So....here it is! I really have no idea what I'm going to write about tonight. I'm tired. I'm bitchy. I'm grouchy. The kids were being complete bum holes this afternoon. The Hubs went back to work tonight for his four nights on then eight days off. He has the weirdest schedule! It's nice that he does have long stretches off but it really screws shit up. Any who....
I'm sitting here enjoying a glass of Yellow Tail Sweet Red Roo (LOVVVVE that stuff!!!). Kids are in bed but are still blabbing. The boys anyway. I'd love to put the oldest in the bedroom downstairs but honestly, I'm not ready for that just yet. He just barely turned 7. He "sees ghosts and eyes" and all sorts of scary shit all the time. I'm not ready to be woke up every 10 min because he saw another pair of blue or green or red flashing eyes. Mind you, it's not a creepy basement in that it's not all dark and dingy and doesn't smell like old, moldy gym socks and armpits. It's a day light basement. Looks like the rest of the house. Although, the thought of what the rest of the house looks like right now makes me shiver!! But, I'm in one of those don't really give two shits about the laundry or the dishes or the fact that I haven't vacuumed since I can't remember kind of moods. The kids are in bed! And as I write this, the talking upstairs has stopped.....EXHALE!!
Just feeling overwhelmed right now. Don't know why. I really need a vacation. Without the kids. I know that sounds awful. Your kids are suppose to be your everything. Believe me, they are. Sometimes I just need everything to leave me the fuck alone though! I need a day where I can just sit on my lazy ass and do NOTHING!! I love to coupon. Let me say that again....I LOVE TO COUPON!!! It's like crack for me! Who has the best prices in town. Where can I get the best coupon to match the sales ad. What can I get a shit load for for practically free. But I have to say, lately, even that's not really doing it for me. I don't want to say I'm depressed. I think I'm just, dare I say it, bored. I've lived away from old friends and family pretty much since high school. Yes, I've had other friends. Yes, I moved back home and stayed for a few years. Yes, I made other friends. But here we are in Alaska. I'm use to my own routine. I'm use to being by ourselves. I'm use to not having other people over all the time. I'm use to not having other people's kids messing with shit. Buttttt......I also think I'm getting lonely for friends. *whisper so they can't hear* And...I'm getting lonely for family. My only family here is a cousin and her husband. They live in Anchorage, which is 50 miles away. We don't see them very often though. I do have friends here but our lives are just so hectic that it never seems that we see each other. My only other close friend whom is also a cousin lives in fecking Wyoming!! Her husband would move here in a heart beat. Her? Not so much. She's more of a pack up and move to Phoenix kind of girl. Phoenix?!!! Really Cari???? You do realize it gets like 15,000 degrees in the shade right? You do realize that those are cactus and not trees right? And for shit's sake, that's a fucking man eating lizard not a fucking dog!!!! That shit scares me!! I've been to Phoenix. Many times. I almost moved there after I did my stent in southern CA. Key word here is almost. Instead, I packed up my shit and meandered back home to good ol' Montana. Where the men are men and the sheep are scared. BAHAHAHA!!
Life in MT is much different than anywhere else I've lived. I was born and raised in a po' dunk little town. Population: 500 (people), 5 gazillion (cows)
There were wheat fields as far as you could see. Montana is known for it's "Big Sky". It's absolutely true! You can literally see for miles and miles. It's colder than a witch's tit in the winter and Phoenix desert hot in the summer. I can sum it up for you in four words. I FUCKING HATED IT!! I came from a broken home full of resentment and some times hate. My mother married too young to a man she barely knew because she was pregnant and "that's just what you did back then". They then went on to have three more children. She divorced him because he devoted his life to hunting and fishing and alcohol, which wasn't a horrible thing. The horrible thing was, he chose to do those things with his buddies. Fuck the family!
She then went on to marry a real doozzy! He was a raging alcoholic. He was an asshole to her. He was an asshole to us. He was an asshole to EVERYONE!! BUT she stayed with the fucker despite everyone's warnings. Despite her own children's protests. They beat. the. shit. out of each other all the time. He punched holes in the walls. He flipped over chairs and tables. They screamed and hollered and drank and fought and we were in the middle of it all. She hated him. She loved him. She hated herself. She hated herself. She hated herself. Me? I hated my mother. I know, hate is a really strong word but it's the only one that I can think of that doesn't have a string of 500 curse words in front and behind it. I still don't have a lot of respect for her but that's for another blog and another time. Soooooo.....after high school, I packed all of my meager belongings in my little Dodge Shadow and scooted my happy ass to sunny Southern California! It. Was. Awesome. Small town girl in California!! I had a boyfriend there in the Marines. He and some other friends that were also in the Marines we living down there. We had a blast! Best time of my life. Then he turned out to be the dick my mom always warned me he was and we split the sheets. I moved out on my own. Stayed another year. Partied my ass off!! Then, moved back to MT. I figured I should probably grow up at some point in my life. Stop being a temp at shitty little companies making shit for wages while doing data entry. It was fun while it lasted though. Let me just say that Club A in Tijuana use to be "where it's at"!!! WARNING MOMS AND DADS: DO NOT LET YOUR CHILD OR CHILDREN PARTY AT CLUB A IN TJ!!! It's a very dangerous place where the cover charge is less than a couple happy meals and the alcohol is free! ALSO, it's crawling with Marines that have migrated south from Camp Pendelton for the evening. Very hot, muscle bound, ripped Marines. The club also stayed open until 5AM. VERY DANGEROUS!!!! But oh soooo much fucking fun!!!
I always say that I hope my children go and live their lives and explore the world. I want them to move out of state. Meet new people. Make new friends. Go on wild adventures into the wild blue yonder. But please kids, don't do it in Tijuana, Mexico!!! Strange things happen there during the day. Even stranger things come out at night!!
So now you have a little more back ground on my life and who I am. Hope you enjoyed my novel! I think this blogging thing is good for me. I don't know if you all like it but I do! LOL It gives me a chance to vent. Gives me a chance to be who I am and say what I'm thinking without "Mommy? Mommy? MOMMMMMMYYYYYYY!!!!!!!" What child??? "He took my toy and even though we have 5 of the almost exact same thing, I want that one!!! Mommy? Mommy? MOMMMMMMYYYYYYY!!!!"
So without further ado, I must go. My wine is getting warm!!
I'm sitting here enjoying a glass of Yellow Tail Sweet Red Roo (LOVVVVE that stuff!!!). Kids are in bed but are still blabbing. The boys anyway. I'd love to put the oldest in the bedroom downstairs but honestly, I'm not ready for that just yet. He just barely turned 7. He "sees ghosts and eyes" and all sorts of scary shit all the time. I'm not ready to be woke up every 10 min because he saw another pair of blue or green or red flashing eyes. Mind you, it's not a creepy basement in that it's not all dark and dingy and doesn't smell like old, moldy gym socks and armpits. It's a day light basement. Looks like the rest of the house. Although, the thought of what the rest of the house looks like right now makes me shiver!! But, I'm in one of those don't really give two shits about the laundry or the dishes or the fact that I haven't vacuumed since I can't remember kind of moods. The kids are in bed! And as I write this, the talking upstairs has stopped.....EXHALE!!
Just feeling overwhelmed right now. Don't know why. I really need a vacation. Without the kids. I know that sounds awful. Your kids are suppose to be your everything. Believe me, they are. Sometimes I just need everything to leave me the fuck alone though! I need a day where I can just sit on my lazy ass and do NOTHING!! I love to coupon. Let me say that again....I LOVE TO COUPON!!! It's like crack for me! Who has the best prices in town. Where can I get the best coupon to match the sales ad. What can I get a shit load for for practically free. But I have to say, lately, even that's not really doing it for me. I don't want to say I'm depressed. I think I'm just, dare I say it, bored. I've lived away from old friends and family pretty much since high school. Yes, I've had other friends. Yes, I moved back home and stayed for a few years. Yes, I made other friends. But here we are in Alaska. I'm use to my own routine. I'm use to being by ourselves. I'm use to not having other people over all the time. I'm use to not having other people's kids messing with shit. Buttttt......I also think I'm getting lonely for friends. *whisper so they can't hear* And...I'm getting lonely for family. My only family here is a cousin and her husband. They live in Anchorage, which is 50 miles away. We don't see them very often though. I do have friends here but our lives are just so hectic that it never seems that we see each other. My only other close friend whom is also a cousin lives in fecking Wyoming!! Her husband would move here in a heart beat. Her? Not so much. She's more of a pack up and move to Phoenix kind of girl. Phoenix?!!! Really Cari???? You do realize it gets like 15,000 degrees in the shade right? You do realize that those are cactus and not trees right? And for shit's sake, that's a fucking man eating lizard not a fucking dog!!!! That shit scares me!! I've been to Phoenix. Many times. I almost moved there after I did my stent in southern CA. Key word here is almost. Instead, I packed up my shit and meandered back home to good ol' Montana. Where the men are men and the sheep are scared. BAHAHAHA!!
Life in MT is much different than anywhere else I've lived. I was born and raised in a po' dunk little town. Population: 500 (people), 5 gazillion (cows)
There were wheat fields as far as you could see. Montana is known for it's "Big Sky". It's absolutely true! You can literally see for miles and miles. It's colder than a witch's tit in the winter and Phoenix desert hot in the summer. I can sum it up for you in four words. I FUCKING HATED IT!! I came from a broken home full of resentment and some times hate. My mother married too young to a man she barely knew because she was pregnant and "that's just what you did back then". They then went on to have three more children. She divorced him because he devoted his life to hunting and fishing and alcohol, which wasn't a horrible thing. The horrible thing was, he chose to do those things with his buddies. Fuck the family!
She then went on to marry a real doozzy! He was a raging alcoholic. He was an asshole to her. He was an asshole to us. He was an asshole to EVERYONE!! BUT she stayed with the fucker despite everyone's warnings. Despite her own children's protests. They beat. the. shit. out of each other all the time. He punched holes in the walls. He flipped over chairs and tables. They screamed and hollered and drank and fought and we were in the middle of it all. She hated him. She loved him. She hated herself. She hated herself. She hated herself. Me? I hated my mother. I know, hate is a really strong word but it's the only one that I can think of that doesn't have a string of 500 curse words in front and behind it. I still don't have a lot of respect for her but that's for another blog and another time. Soooooo.....after high school, I packed all of my meager belongings in my little Dodge Shadow and scooted my happy ass to sunny Southern California! It. Was. Awesome. Small town girl in California!! I had a boyfriend there in the Marines. He and some other friends that were also in the Marines we living down there. We had a blast! Best time of my life. Then he turned out to be the dick my mom always warned me he was and we split the sheets. I moved out on my own. Stayed another year. Partied my ass off!! Then, moved back to MT. I figured I should probably grow up at some point in my life. Stop being a temp at shitty little companies making shit for wages while doing data entry. It was fun while it lasted though. Let me just say that Club A in Tijuana use to be "where it's at"!!! WARNING MOMS AND DADS: DO NOT LET YOUR CHILD OR CHILDREN PARTY AT CLUB A IN TJ!!! It's a very dangerous place where the cover charge is less than a couple happy meals and the alcohol is free! ALSO, it's crawling with Marines that have migrated south from Camp Pendelton for the evening. Very hot, muscle bound, ripped Marines. The club also stayed open until 5AM. VERY DANGEROUS!!!! But oh soooo much fucking fun!!!
I always say that I hope my children go and live their lives and explore the world. I want them to move out of state. Meet new people. Make new friends. Go on wild adventures into the wild blue yonder. But please kids, don't do it in Tijuana, Mexico!!! Strange things happen there during the day. Even stranger things come out at night!!
So now you have a little more back ground on my life and who I am. Hope you enjoyed my novel! I think this blogging thing is good for me. I don't know if you all like it but I do! LOL It gives me a chance to vent. Gives me a chance to be who I am and say what I'm thinking without "Mommy? Mommy? MOMMMMMMYYYYYYY!!!!!!!" What child??? "He took my toy and even though we have 5 of the almost exact same thing, I want that one!!! Mommy? Mommy? MOMMMMMMYYYYYYY!!!!"
So without further ado, I must go. My wine is getting warm!!
Monday, March 18, 2013
Going. To. Die.
I decided that I'm tired of being fat and out of shape....AGAIN!! So this morning I embarked on the journey back to the gym. That cold I had about damn near did me in! I had started the gym again but when you can't breathe, no one appreciates you coughing and spitting unmentionable things at or on them. I was doing the gym world a service!
Heading to my demise this morning made me stop and think. Scary I know but it happens from time to time. The world has so many epidemics. Malaria, dysentery, polio, hunger, AIDS. What is the most prevalent in the US? Obesity. Fucking obesity! I bitch and moan and complain because my back hurts, my knees hurt from time to time, my ankle (old injury). When all the while, it's my. own. damn. fault!! I'm fat!!!
I do wish that one day all those poor little kids in the US and abroad only ever have to worry about too much to eat.
Ok. Rant is over. Now to get the boy from preschool and go home and gorge. Unfortunately, I work out and then I have to eat or I will die. Just thankful that I have the choice to eat and live vs. not eating and dying.
Good day all!!
Heading to my demise this morning made me stop and think. Scary I know but it happens from time to time. The world has so many epidemics. Malaria, dysentery, polio, hunger, AIDS. What is the most prevalent in the US? Obesity. Fucking obesity! I bitch and moan and complain because my back hurts, my knees hurt from time to time, my ankle (old injury). When all the while, it's my. own. damn. fault!! I'm fat!!!
I do wish that one day all those poor little kids in the US and abroad only ever have to worry about too much to eat.
Ok. Rant is over. Now to get the boy from preschool and go home and gorge. Unfortunately, I work out and then I have to eat or I will die. Just thankful that I have the choice to eat and live vs. not eating and dying.
Good day all!!
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