Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Divergence

On a good day I will say, that we are on the same plane but have separate flight plans with serious fuel shortages.

On a bad day, I won't say anything.

I've ceased reacting to attacks.
I won't fire any more bullets, but I WILL wear the body armor and record actions in MY little black box.

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Brought to you by Gastroenteritis!!

I am employed in a field, where not only can I automatically describe the smell, texture and appearance of all bodily excretions, I am required to. Often at great length...on paper...with my signature.
School resumes for me, on September 19th.
I am voluntarily, paying for the privilege to fully and more accurately describe the loamy texture, odor and appearance of previously mentioned excretions.
Yay!!
I will soon be licensed to stick my gloved finger up your ass!! And chart how it looked, smelled and felt like!!
Digital extractions, what fun!!
Coming soon to a hospital near you!!

(!!)

(just strap me into the comfy white jacket already)

Friday, August 12, 2005

Y chromosomes

Please, do not bother sending me hate mail, ultra perfect mother who can iron, give blow jobs, make dinner, give birth, fold laundry, unclog toilets and attend PTA meetings all at the same time.

I have a theory.

I am completely enchanted with all of my children. BUT lately, my boys every move fascinates me.
I believe, that because they were one of those "multiple births", that, I loved them of course, and DID bond with them when they were babies, but now that I'm not wiping their butts every 30 minutes, they aren't attached to my breasts and they have stopped that gawd awful needy wail, I am more able to fully able to focus them. Not them. Each one, as a separate individual, not a noisy, poopy, hungry group.
Twin A, scratch that, Devon is so aware of feelings, emotions and consequences. If he steps on the dogs tail, if troubles him greatly. He was angry at my husband for an entire week, for the lobster dinner the husband made, "daddy, that was mean." I couldn't bring myself to eat it.
I, "we" helped my sister move to a new house and there was a tree there that had ropes that were cutting into it's branches. They HAD to go, because Devon said, the ropes were making the tree sad.
He is the first one to hug me when I come home from work, and delights in telling me that I am Boo-ey-foil (beautiful), because he has a pure, tender soul (AND gets kissy huggy tickle snugs from me when he says it). He will be a card carrying member of PETA when he grows up.

Twin B, scratch that, Tanner has 92 freckles on his nose. Recognize that he sat still on my lap willingly, long enough for me to count them. He says that he doesn't have enough numbers for my freckles. He inherited the quiet patience of my Grandpa. One of his favorite things to do, is to go outside and collect seeds with me. For the last three years, we have planted and grown all of the seeds that he helped me collect into envelopes labeled appropriately "Tanners seeds". He loves bees because they make the flowers happy. In the pool, he MUST suck up water through his floaty noodle and blow it into his sisters and brothers face, but never mine, because, "the water hurts mamma's eyes". He delights in "treasure hunting" which means Mommy turns over rocks and logs, and Tanner names all of the bugs we find and squish them if need be.

True, pure, complete joy.

Monday, August 08, 2005

DIY

A person can get to a point, where/when they are unable to control certain major aspects of their lives (free will can suck ass vomit), so they focus on the the less hostile objects.
  1. Mr. Kipper Jones. The dog I rescued from my neighbors, because even his most basic needs were not being met. More like, they were fucking starving him, and put him on a chain IN his kennel when he tried to dig his way out to water in 105 degree weather. I can't afford this dog. I don't need or want ANOTHER dog, but I have to honor the task I brought on myself... I bought his shots at the local feed store and administered them myself...potty trained him...and taught him how to play fetch. It is sad but true, that abused dogs can make the very best pets. He is astonishingly smart (smarter than my two dogs combined, but I'll deny that statement), he brought my husbands shoe to him tonight (possibly because it was the most fragrant). I'm NOT falling in love with this dog (LIAR) because I have enough (way too fucking much) on my plate already. Truly, the add is going in the paper tomorrow, BUT the respondents will be harshly screened (maybe with visitation rights).
  2. New Mr. Feisty Fridgedaire Dishwasher. When you balked at being plumbed and wired, I looked under the skirts of my sisters dishwasher and she gave me (with a few on-line sources) all the info I needed. You WILL wash for me, for I am your master.
  3. Mr. Porcelain/Tile Bathroom. I am not entirely sure how to appropriately address you. I have painted you, plunged you, replaced your loose tiles, removed your hardwater deposits and dressed you up in fancy new linens...Because I'm a girl and I like that. Let it be known that if you ever decide to clog on me again, I WILL call in the men with the nasty rooter snakes and give my favors to the downstairs bath. I'll play nice as long as you do.
  4. Mr. Asexual aphid. Leave my fucking petunias, roses and other assorted purdy flowers alone, or I will cease the dish soap/cayenne treatments and bring in the big toxic boys, no matter how it pains me or the Salmon. Choose wisely nasty green bug.
  5. Mr. HOLIER than though air ring on my above ground pool. Have I not patched you enough? My arms tire from inflating your ego/ring. REVEAL your leak, or I will abandon you, and use my city pool pass. Yes, my children and I will resort to swimming in public urine if you do not reveal your sources. I shan't provide another chlorine tablet or filter for you until you speak up.
  6. To my sweet warm tomatoes. Above all, I regret not having the time to plant or nourish you. I have missed you more than any other anti-oxidant. I remember our times last summer and how you healed me. Please understand that I am suffering your absence as much as you are. I promise, the store bought tomatoes meant nothing to me.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Petty, and not Tom.

I believed and would like to continue believing that I am non-judgmental, I still would like to think that I don't have a discriminating bone in my body.
Every size shape, color, hangup, whatever...Bring it on.
To each his own.

One of my very good friends is a gay male. Love him, love him.
We have been though MUCH together.
We go to school together, work together and my Lesbo sister even lived with him for awhile.
This last week, his partner (with full blown aids) of thirteen years, that I also love was, for the first time, together with my kids.
I know all the probabilities and such.....But it's different when it comes to my babies.
NO, I didn't freak out. BUT, I didn't like the thoughts that popped into my ever so shrinking brain.
I feel like (although he NO clue) I dishonored him (and his struggle) in some way.
We all went swimming together, and I kissed, hugged and laughed with him like I always do, but with my kids there in the mix, it was different, and I don't know how to reconcile the thoughts that went through my brain, with the man that I respect, know and love, with my ultimate priority A.K.A. my children.
When we love our children so much that we'd literally be willing to die for them, perhaps... Sometimes, logic flies out the window
I have known many men who are in various stages of aids... LOGICALLY I know the odds are impossibly small of transmitting anything... still... My thoughts did venture there.
He and his partner are some of my dearest friends, so it made the thoughts that crept into my head SO much worse.
I feel like I should join the KKK now.
Right after I search for lost hotwheels and socks under the dryer.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Switch


As a child, my parents were emotionally absent.
Even gushing head wounds did not guarantee a noticeable nod.
I was just a number in their Mormon quest of an appropriate amount of children.
I remember waking up on one of birthdays (ignored, but say the prayer) ate breakfast (ignored, but wash the dishes) went to school and came home (ignored, but do your fucking chores), ate dinner (ignored, but read the damn scriptures) and went to bed.
I also remember a time when my "mother" beat the living shit out of me, and ripped off my clothes and shoes, because I didn't change them fast enough.
Who knew?
Anyhoo, this isn't a "woe is me" post, it is a warped thank you, to my lack of parents, for making me a better parent.
My childhood "experience" has permanently affected how I parent my own children.
Even before I had children, I vowed to always be available, and not only that, but genuinely interested and emotionally "on".
One of the most important things that I feel that I can do for my children is to look them in the eyes and hear them, understand them. Even if it's only about a lost hotwheel or a hangnail, because that is what is important to THEM at the moment.
I live and breathe for them. I am going to school FOR THEM. I owe them this much in the least. I may fail in other areas of my life...and I'm OK with that.
Of course it is tiring. It is the reason that I blog, chat and post at this hour, because they are asleep, and I can feed some of my needs.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Rest

Despite my own vows, there has been eight "saved to draft" posts.
Too many people that "know" me read this blog.

I long for intimacy, and at the same time, the ability to silence the sorrow, pain and noise of the "real" world.
My heart is tired.