Sittin in LaLa wating for my Yaya

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything but I’m sure all 4 of my followers haven’t noticed. 😉 But it’s Christmas time my loves and anxiety levels are at their HIGHEST. I’m sitting in the airport to pick up an unaccompanied minor. So I’m here at the gate like you used to be able to do in the good old days when you came to pick somebody up. But it’s NOT the good ole days. It’s something else. Not entirely bad, but definately different. Saying I’m out of place right now is an understatement. I have no bags, not even a purse or wallet since my Id is just in my secret pocket in my scarf. (A scarf that I knitted I might add) Point being, I look out of place. And when you look out of place at an airport, peoples assholes get REAL tight and they look at you like aw mah gawd what da fuck is going on! Then I start getting uncomfortable from people looking at me sideways. I wanted to take the opportunity to get some walking in since I’m alone for a couple hours which NEVER happens. So fuck everyone, I walked the terminal for 30 minutes then sat down. And hey my kid is getting off the airplane now and life if good… even if it ain’t the ole days

If sleep is the cousin of death then who’s yo momma?

So randomly I felt like texting my mom “I miss you Mom. Goodnight I love you.” I don’t normally do things like that. But sometimes I fear I’m going to die in my sleep. Tonight is one of those nights. Maybe it’s because I’ve lost almost 10 people I know in the last 18 months. All of them tragic situations. A 3 year old little boy who used to sit in my laugh and call me girlfriend, accidentally shot himself, friends from high school 2 died in their sleep, another one had a heart attack, another a bloodclot. Another an infection from a miscarriage. A friend I called cousin, overdosed. My psychiatrist took his own life, and most recently my Auntie died from Breast Cancer last week. I talked to her on the phone and she could hardly breathe. I told her this isn’t goodbye, but see you later when we are reunited in The Kingdom. I said what was in my heart but I almost fear it might not be true. What if my beliefs are wrong? Why do I have fits of disbelief?…She passed later on that afternoon. My Mom was by her side and said she went very peacefully. I still wish it wasnt true. I had plans to see her this holiday season. I really thought she would make it.
All of this is making me wonder if I’m next. What if all the drugs and partying I did and bad eating habits I’ve aquired over my life are going to be the end of me sooner rather than later? I’ve been thinking about writing a will but the only possessions I really have aren’t worth much. What I’m really worried about is my kids. My baby has never had a bottle. She only nurses. If I were to pass in the night, how would Migue feed her till family got here? He wouldn’t know how to buy formula. He wouldn’t know how to take care of her until family got here. And the closest family we have is a 13 hour drive from here. He would fall apart at the seams trying to take care of all the kids till someone showed up to help. And thinking long term I don’t think he could handle all the kids. And I don’t want them to get separated. I think it would be too hard for my Mom to raise kids all over again since she is close to 60. Especially not a baby.
So now I have a lot (more) to think about. Who wouldn’t be burdened by my kids? Who do I trust with raising my kids? Also, who has a good support system so that if they were to get overloaded, they would have help nearby? I’m not sure who it is. But I think I know who it’s NOT. Am I a bitch for thinking this way? I don’t think so. These are my babies. They are smart and talented and funny and they deserve the best. Not just whoever is available out of dire necessity.
Now I’m wondering do I talk about this issue or do I just write it out in my will and nobody will know till I’m dead? I don’t want to offend anyone by discussing the subject and then following it up with “I don’t think you are the right fit.” And how do I explain that I feel Migue wouldnt be able to handle raising his own daughter without me there? He is good with her. I twisted my ankle recently and he took time off work to help with the cooking and the cleaning. He even gave the baby a bath and spent more time than usual with her. Am I underestimating him or am I being realistic because I’ve seen him fall apart in the past and it was HORRIFIC. Ok, I’ll be truthful and say I’m afraid he’ll just hand the baby off to his Mom and fall back into the bottle. He’s doing good now, but what if….
I guess I have to just have Faith. So I lay here, take a deep breath to try and relax myself. As I inhale, that aggervating pain in my back cramps. I shifted my weight  but then the pain moves its way down my legs where it burns into my ankles and up into my shoulders and joints. And at this point I think a Last Will and Testament probably is a good idea.
Maybe I should get a physical done too….

Swamp Tits

I wake up at 3:30am and I’m HOT! Waitwaitwaitwait…what? Why? I have a/c and a fan in my room. But I look and see the fan isn’t running. Oh God no. I go to turn on the light. No light. Shit. Did I pay the bill? Yes. Ok how long is this going to last? Cue screaming sweaty baby NOW. Oh this is fun. -__- FUCKfuckfuckityfuck Ok now what. Start taking clothes off the baby and get a wet rag to wipe her down and cool her off. It feels like 100 degrees in here. But its probably maybe 85, I’m just freaking out. Nothing like good old fashioned panic to make a situation more sweaty. But I’m doing good. I’m staying calm. I peel off the baby’s clothes and change her wet diaper and then wipe her head and neck with a cool wash cloth. It seems to startle her at first but she gives into it and her yells turn to wimpers. I wipe my own face with the wash cloth and it does feel good.  The power kicks on and fans start running again. Thank you Jesus. Seriously, thank you… I go to the kitchen to get a drink and see the thermometer on the fridge says its about 90 degrees. I was close. I see the time and notice it’s 4:12. My alarm is set for 4:30. Booooo.
I get to work in the kitchen. I start boiling water for oatmeal. Might as well make a bunch of it so it’ll be ready for when the kids wake up. Then I open the fridge to decide what do I make Migue for lunch? Well there’s leftover chinese food from take out last night. Sorry to continue my lazyness of not wanting to make dinner pour over to not in the mood to make your lunch either, but it is what it is. As I’m warming up leftover shrimp and chicken, I’m still feeling hot as fuck. And not in a sexy way. But at least the fans and a/c are running and the temp is closer to 85 than 90 now. But it still happens. I get nauseated and have to lay down. I think I might vomit but Migue is up now and doing his morning business in the bathroom, so I’m sure as shit not going in there.
I hate this feeling. This nausea. I had morning sickness the whole way through my last pregnancy and that’s what this feels like. I’m not pregnant. I’ve checked. Plus we are being carefull. I am just getting old I think. I used to be able to handle the heat like a champ. I even loved the heat because it meant going to the beach or the pool. I still love those things, but getting there is an issue when you feel like you’re going to pass out trying to function.
After laying down for a few minutes, the feeling looses its power and I’m up again, putting strawberries and almond milk in Migue’s oatmeal and cream and sugar in his coffee. He leaves and I notice something… it’s quiet. The baby fell asleep again and the bedroom feels fresh from the air circulating. This is good. I am going to lay here and enjoy this till. My nausea is still like a lump in my stomach, but it’s tolerable and speaking from expierience, I know it will go down soon.
Now to try and relax for a bit before the day starts. Happy Tuesday!

I need someone, a person to talk to. Someone who’d care to love. Could it be you? Could it be yooooou?

Situation gets rough then I start to panic. It’s not enough it’s just a habit…. Thank you Violent Femmes.

Today was meltdown status alpha. Fell asleep for a little while after making breakfast and lunch for Migue. Then got up, made the kids some food, told them to take showers then I got the baby to chillax for 20 minutes so I could take a shower. Then out the door we went. Had to go somewhere and turn in some paper work for the baby. While I was sitting in the waiting room hoping my number would get called soon. I looked down and noticed that sticking out from my capris was one shaved leg, but not another. How the fuck did I manage that? Trying to be slick and hope no one would notice, I leaned forward in my chair a little with arms slightly stretched forward to check and ahhhh, thank you Jesus. At least I managed to shave both armpits. Finally my number was called, I saw the lady at window number one. Some forms were signed and we left. With me and three kids in tow, I headed for the child support office. I got a letter from them they needed to see me by today. This is a good thing because its been 10 years since I’ve received anything from my sons dad. Went there, handled that in about an hour. Then headed to the laundry. My boys had asked if we could make a pit stop and get ice cream. They had coupons for a free soft serve for completing the summer reading program. (They finished in less than a month, I’m so proud) I said sure cuz they earned it. The baby started loosing her shit while we were stopped in every place we had gone, so I figured we all needed a break.
While the boys vibrated around the ice cream parlor with their coupons wrinkled in their hot little hands, I sat in a corner and nursed the baby. Kids were satisfied…my anxiety was starting to build. I realized I had fed everyone but myself today. No time to deal with that now, still shit to do. Next stop, laundry mat.
Pulled up to the laundry loading zone and asked my older son to please get a basket for me to put all the clothes in. Then loaded the clothes in it and parked the car. Got the baby out of the car and started to head to where my clothes and my sons were waiting. I was carrying a lot so I asked my son if he could hold my purse while I try to carry the baby and puch the basket of clothes. He takes my purse, walks about 5 feet and sets it down on the sidewalk and takes off for the arcade inside the laundry mat. I call for him and he says “I don’t want to carry your purse. That’s for girls.” Omg. Then as I’m pushing the basket into the door of the laundrymat, one of the wheels gets caught and half my clothes go spilling out onto the floor. So now I’m trying to pick them up, while holding the baby and my purse and I’m blocking the doorway and everyone in the laundry mat is staring at me. I want to cry… all the washers are full, but I’m not leaving now. Its only 10minutes till the next available machine. Its one of the giant 5 loader machines but fuckit. Our knits are getting washed with the jeans today, deal with it.
While the clothes are in the wash I decide we can go to the grocery store across the way and get things we need while we’re waiting. I have WIC vouchers for baby food and veggies and stuff so let’s do this. I load all of 4 us back into my hot little 2 door civic and drive over there. We could have walked, but how was I going to schlep all the stuff to the car? The carts have locks that don’t let you go past a certain point.
I’m in the grocery store and my kids are bouncing off the walls and doing the “mom mom mom mom mom” thing while I’m trying to figure out how to read these WIC vouchers and get the correct combo of either 8 2.5 oz jars and 12 7 oz jars or 5 and 9 or whatever it was. I finally get it together and go check out. The cashier is basically going through what I went through in the isle making sure I have the correct combination and people in line behind me are getting frustrated. They see I have my groceries seperated because I have 2 vouchers and then my regular food stuffs I will pay for with cash. But the cashier, who is just doing her job, is checking and rechecking to make sure I’ve got it right. Then this uppity bitch says under her breath to the guy she is with “she gets those for free because she is poor. If you can’t afford to feed your kids on your own, then you shouldn’t have them.” Now I really want to cry. As I mentioned earlier, but I did not say to anyone there, my sons dad hasn’t paid me child support in 10 years, and he is in the fucking military and he has managed to get away with this. I think the cashier heard this woman also. We locked eyes (I think mine may have been a little red from trying not to cry) and the cashier smiled and said “lemme make sure you got it right on your milk and eggs too before we go any further.” I said, “I think the people behind me are getting frustrated.” To which the cashier responded “well they can get over it.” That made me smile. My hands were shaking and my lips were tight, but I’m pretty sure she could tell I was thankful for her attitude right then.
Got the kids and the groceries in the car and headed back over to the laundry. Got it all in its bags and was ready to head home. We have a dryer at home, but not a washer right now.
We get home, get everything unloaded, I change and nurse the baby then start working on dinner. Then the baby starts crying and won’t stop. So I have her on my hip while I’m at the stove trying to sautee up some beef and veggies.
Dinner is ready and I serve the kids. It’s 8:00 and Migue still isn’t home from work yet but I know he will be home soon. I set the baby down and she starts sceaming. I check her diaper-clean. So I make her a bowl of baby food. She’s not interested in it too much. She takes a few bites then starts batting away at the spoon. So I pop her back on the titty while the boys put their plates in the sink and get ready for bed. Migue walks through the door and asks if dinner is ready. He then goes and takes a shower since he’s sweaty and dirty from working outside all day. With baby still on my hip I serve him. He sees some of the clothes wet in a bag infront of the dryer and says “you been too busy laying around doing nothing all day you couldn’t dry the clothes?” Aaaaaaaaaand that’s what does it for me. Tears start streaming down my face and I start crying. I take the baby into the room and just cry. I can’t believe he said this to me. I’m so hurt. Finished with HIS dinner (at this point I STILL haven’t gotten to sit down and eat anything other than some animal crackers and some almond milk) he comes in the room and says “turn off all the lights and go to sleep. It’s after 10 and I’ve got to get up at 4:30.” I looked at him and said “I can’t believe you think I just lay around like a cow all day.” To which he replied; “if I was home all day with the kids this house would be spotless and dinner would always be ready on time. All you have to do is cook and clean. What’s so hard about that? My mom had six kids and our house was always clean and there was always food prepared.” I lost my shit. “I’m not perfect. Nobody fucking is. And I’m here ALONE from 5am till you come home at 9pm. I know you work your ass off out there in the heat and that’s why I get up every morning and make your breakfast and coffee and pack your lunches and kiss you and tell you to have a great day at work. Then I’m here ALONE. We have no family here. Your mom had her sisters, your grandparents, your other aunts and uncles, her comadres and cousins all around. Everybody helped everybody while the men where at work. I don’t have that here.” Migue looked at me like he never thought of it that way before. But what he said was “please Baby, I’m tired. Can we just go to bed?”
So he’s in bed and I’m in the living room writing, to try and calm the fuck down…..

“Kiss Off” by The Violent Femmes
I need someone a person to talk to Someone who’d care to love Could it be you could it be you Situation gets rough then I start to panic It’s not enough it’s just a habit Hey kid your sick well darling this is it You can all just kiss off into the air Behind my back I can see them stare They’ll hurt me bad but I won’t mind They’ll hurt me bad they do it all the time Yeah yeah they do it all the time Yeah yeah they do it all the time Yeah yeah they do it all the time Yeah yeah they do it all the time I hope you know this will go down On your permanent record Oh yeah well don’t get so distressed Did I happen to mention that I’m impressed I take one one one cause you left me and Two two two for my family and 3 3 3 for my heartache and 4 4 4 for my headaches and 5 5 5 for my lonely and 6 6 6 for my sorrow and 7 7 for no tomorrow and 8 8 I forget what 8 was for and 9 9 9 for a lost god and 10 10 10 10 for everything everything everything everything You can all just kiss off into the air Behind my back I can see them stare They’ll hurt me bad but I won’t mind They’ll hurt me bad they do it all the time Yeah yeah,yeah they do it all the time Yeah yeah,yeah they do it all the time Do it all the time Do it all the time Do it all the time time time Yeah yeah they do it all the time

Lyrics | Violent Femmes lyrics – Kiss Off lyrics

Kiss Off -youtube video

I haven’t hit the wall yet, but I see it …

Lack of sleep is maddening. Or is it Maddning? Or does it just have one “d”? Madening, madning? All four look wrong.
This is the kind of shit I think I mean. I’ve been up so much with only 2-4 hours of sleep at a time, that even words look weird. Maybe I should stop writing and get a couple more hours in now that Migue has left for work and the kiddos are still passed out. Maybe I’ll dream about the good old days. 🙂 hey chef the vegetarian foie gras lady is back.

An irrational fear?

Its official. I’m never going to sleep again. It has been thundering and lightning for days now. It comes and goes but it comes mostly at night and it is seriously effing with my sleep. I’m not just disturbed by lightning, I’m afraid of it. I get full of the ohmaygawd what if’s. Like what if it strikes our house? Or what if it strikes the tree in front of our house and comes crashing down through our roof killing one of us? Or what if one of the kids gets struck? I was told I have a phobia of lightning. I’m sorry but a phobia is an irrational fear of something. My fear of lightning is NOT irrational. These things could happen.
My house is a shitty little house. It’s probably the smallest house I’ve ever lived in. It’s raised off the ground because of heavy rains in our area we are subject to the occasional flooding. No, it’s not on wheels. And before you congratulate me on being a homeowner, I should tell you it’s a rental. It was only supposed to be temporary for a few months until Migue got more hours at work. We got something that with my next to nothing income, we would still be able to pay the bills if things fell through. Well he has been working almost 60 hours a week, and we could afford to move, but we have been saving for a better car. So we are here in this death trap of chalky drywall, wood, and plastic siding for at least a couple more months. Hopefully this summer won’t be an eventful hurricane season for the Gulf of Mexico, or anywhere, and we won’t be blown away before September.
Death by lightning isn’t the only reason I don’t sleep. Again I’d like to say, no I’m not on drugs. (Although I could probably use a valium from time to time) I don’t sleep because I’m “one of those people.” I only say it like this because when I told someone I don’t sleep at night because I’m afraid something will happen while I’m asleep, their response was, “Ohhh. You’re one of THOSE.” WHAT IN THE FUCK?
I’m worried my daughter will choke in her sleep. I’m scared a snake will get in the house and bite one of us. I’m terrified of the huge roaches that fly around outside at night. And last, but certainly not least, I’m scared of lightning. I’m not crazy. I might be insane, but I’m not crazy. I’m afraid of these things because they could happen. I check my daughters bed for objects all the time but one day she had a dime in her mouth. How the fuck she got a dime is beyond me, but I have a few suspisions. Migue always has change in his pockets and he doesn’t empty out his pockets before taking off his pants sometimes and sometimes change goes everywhere. Or he puts it ontop his dresser (not in the change bucket I put up there for him) and change will slide off. I’m afraid of a snake coming in the house because one night there was a snake in the house. We killed it and I don’t think it was poisonous, but who knows. I’m afraid of flying roaches because here in this “tropical” place, they exist. And no amount of bug spray or cleaning is keeping them out. These fuckers can get big too. I mean BIG. One night I was getting out of my car and one flew and landed on my head and got stuck in my hair. This thing was 3 inches long easy. We’ve woken up to them being in the bed even.
I think I’ve made my point… I wanna go home…

I made those phone calls…

I’ll start with the good news. I sat at my kitchen table forever and called EVERY doctors office in the book the insurance company gave me, and after at least 30 calls, I finally found a doctors office that was accepting new patients. This isn’t as easy as it sounds. It meant getting put on hold for upwards of 30minutes sometimes. Dealing with operators and receptionists who were lacking in customer service or were just DONE dealing with people and not getting paid enough for it. Regardless, we got in. And after months and months of dealing with insurance companies and one bad doctor’s office visit, my little girl will finally be able to see a physician. We couldn’t get an appointment until almost a month from now, but it’s something.
After that whole ordeal, I figured I was already on a roll and it was still before 4:00 p.m. so I figured I would do what I really don’t want to do and call my therapist’s office and schedule myself an appointment. But apparently my therapist moved out of state. Huh? I wasn’t gone that long. Ok so who is taking her patients? A new counselor hasn’t been hired yet? Uhhhh….so now what? Now my name goes on a memo. And hopefully they will hire someone in the next 2 months and they will give me a call. I…don’t … like… this. But what can I do? So I give my name and number and last 4 and say “thank you” and then wonder. I want to be normal again. Shit I’ll settle for semi-normal. I want to not feel claustraphobic in store isles and public situations. I want leaving the house to be a normal daily activity. I want to go to the laundrymat without feeling like I will punch someone in the throat if I have too. I don’t particularly enjoy getting shakey and anxious just because someone got too close to me when I was just trying to pick out produce.
No, I’m not on drugs, nor do I want to be. I don’t enjoy being sedated and dumbed down on a daily basis. I have a family to take care of and they come first. I’ve been on a merry-go-round of pills that make me feel a way I don’t want to feel. Some have made me feel stoned, some have made me feel flat out mentally retarded where I could hardly put a thought together. Some have made me so sleepy I had to pull off the freeway immediately and take a nap in my car in the closest parking lot. One nasty little cocktail given to me made me contemplate suicide and so I reported it and I was put in the behavioral health unit for 3 days where they gave me another set of pills and I’d fall asleep sitting in my chair so I decided I should probably go to bed, but was so dizzy I couldn’t walk straight. When I got into bed, I woke up the next evening to some girl, who was badly in need of hygiene counseling, standing over me with a freaky cheshire cat smile on her face. I’ve tried the medical marijuana thing, albiet without a prescription, but I’m still gonna call it medical use. It helped for sleeping, but that was about it. I couldn’t focus or get anything done. As stated earlier, I don’t enjoy feeling retarded or stoned. Not to mention I’m kind of a bitch when I smoke weed. Nobody wants to be around that. I used to think I was hillarious when I was baked, but I was young then. Now I’m a bit cynical and my humor isn’t as fun as it used to be.
My point is there hasn’t been that “miracle” drug for me. If there is for you, congratulations, I am honestly happy for you. I need a good therapist. Maybe I should rephrase that to, I need a therapist that I click with and that I can trust. I had one once. He was wonderful. It was about 3 years ago and the Doctor that I was supposed to see, Dr. M, was overloaded and so I was only supposed to see Dr. L temporarily. But after several sessions I was asked if I wanted to switch or stay. I chose to stay. I was happy with Dr. L. He didn’t feel like a Doctor. Don’t get me wrong, he maintained a level of professionalism at all times, but he was easy to talk to and I felt validated. But like everything else good, I took it for granted. I missed an appointment and then went out of town for a couple months, then another couple months after that when I felt I needed to go back because anxiety and panic were coming back into my life, I called to make an appointment. But he was gone. He moved to Reno to be closer to his family. I knew his wife had transferred there so I was happy for him. I was sad I didn’t get to say goodbye, but I was happy for him.
So now I was going to be seen by Dr. M. She had taken the time to read my file and so I didn’t have to do too much of the “why are you here” which makes me want to get absolutely shit faced drunk when its all over. But her level of professionalism was lacking. She was often late starting appointments or would leave to take a phone call in the middle of a session. I wasn’t happy in the building I once called my happy place. So I quit going. Then I moved to another state. I’ve been here 9 months and I’ve probably spent 5 months in my house. Not consecutively obviously, but that’s my estimate.
There’s one part of this story that I don’t know how to lead into so I’ll just come out with it. After moving here and already feeling lost because my favorite Doc was in another state, I got word that Dr. L commited suicide. I found out just a few days after. It was just this January. He was struggling mentally with his own battles with PTSD and took his own life. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, but the hope was always there that he would be my doctor again. I’m hurt, and I’m angry, but mostly I’m sad. I’ve lost a few people in my life recently, but this one hurts bad. I cry sometimes, and sometimes I’m haunted by the situation. I know his face so well, and when I heard he stuck a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger, the mental image stuck in my head makes me physically sick to my stomach and my heart aches.
I’m done writing today…. I have to get it together and leave my house. Its not going to be easy.

Okie dokie let’s get this week rolling.

It’s almost 6 am on Monday morning and I have said my “have a great day at work, I love you” to my boyfriend after packing his lunch and making him coffee. My kids are all still asleep, so I made me a bowl of grape nuts with some unsweetened almond milk, some agave syrup to give it sweetness and a couple spoonfuls of instant coffee. Yes, instant coffee. A while back when I was in school, I had to work almost non-stop at a prominent 4 day event and had enough milk in my hotel fridge for either my coffee or my cereal so I chose my coffee. Then tried to eat my cereal plain. It wasn’t working out and I said fuck it and had mocha flavored corn flakes. I don’t have this concoction daily, but every few months I get the urge.
I didn’t sleep too well last night. I got to bed at a decent hour and was able to fall asleep within 45 minutes or so, by focusing on my breathing and trying to see when my inhales and exhales matched those of Migue’s (the boyfriend) Unfortunately later, I had one of my nightmares. I’m in the ocean playing in the water and my boys are on the beach playing in the sand. Two men in suits and dark sunglasses come and take my boys. The men in suits never look down or towards the water as my boys yell for me and as I scream for them to stop. I’m running to try and get out of the water, but I never reach the shore. I’m stuck in knee deep shallows and watch as my 8 and 10 year old are hauled away. I wake up in a sweat to Migue telling me “Baby shhh, everything is ok.” He pets my hair and kisses me on my cheek. I can tell he’s not fully awake, but over the years he has gone from the freaked out “oh my God what the fuck is happening” response to cool, calm, and comforting. He is back asleep within a couple minutes and I’m holding his hand, or have my arm thrown across his chest and I’m wide awake for what seems like forever, trying to get the images out of my head.
Of course without fail, when I’m close to being asleep again, the baby wakes up. I’m not upset about it though really. Tired as fuck, yes, but some loving minutes with her can be relaxing. Even at 2am when my alarm is set for 4:30…
So my goals for today are call around and try to find a doctor for the baby that takes her insurance, call my therapist’s office and see about getting an appointment. Then I’m going to work on leaving the house today. I get nervous just thinking about it, but we need groceries and stuff needs to go back to the library. It looks like rain today, but it’s hurricane season in the tropics, we get at least 10minutes of rain everyday. I need to get it out of my head that I can’t leave the house just because of “bad” weather. I’m semi-spoiled being from the Southern and Central Coast parts of California and I’m not a big fan of anything other than a foggy marine layer that burns off by the afternoon, and temps in the mid 70’s. I used to love staying on this part of the world and swimming in the ocean and being hot and feeling sexy. It’s so much different when you’re here when you’re young, adaptable, have no kids, and live in temporary housing with staff that keeps the air conditioning working, pests at bay and such. Now living here in a small shanty of a house with a sand driveway, a tempermental A/C and the daily invasion of flying cockroaches, snakes, mosquitos and what-not makes me think the pool at the YMCA back in Organic food-land wasn’t so bad after all.
But here I am now. This is my life in this place. I’m a former social butterfly turned borderline recluse. But I’ve got my kids to worry about so I’ve got to get motivated today….but fucking shit, I really could use a nap first.

I’m not happy with myself

I want to write more and I’m afraid of judgement. Not just because I’m a horrible speller, but because I’m a Mom and A FAILURE. Before you start with your “awwwwwww no you’re not” shit, hear me out. I want to leave my house and do important stuff like take care of my bills, show up to my doctors appointments, take my kids to the park, etc.. I had a baby six months ago and I haven’t made a follow up appointment with my OB cuz I don’t like the attitude of half the staff there. I took my baby to her first doctors appointment with her new doctor and the facilities were disgusting to me and I went into panic mode and took off. I’ve been calling around to different doctors offices to try to get her in, but they don’t take our insurance. “Then get a list of approved doctors from your insurance company.” I did. That’s who I’m calling, but still getting No after No answer. I get so nervous and panicked just picking up the phone to call, getting shot down so many times to get my baby to see a fucking doctor, I’ve sunk into a form of depression.
Honestly I feel like I’m in the old chicken and egg question, subsitute depression and anxiety. Which came first? Am I depressed because I can’t pick up the phone to make a simple fucking phone call without my nerves causing me to shake and forget my words, address, phone number or some other detail? Or am I panic ridden because I’m so depressed from my situation that I haven’t put forth a better effort from fear or being judged and shunned by strangers?
I had an appointment a few months ago with my new counselor. I flaked. It was raining and I used that as an excuse to not go outside with the baby. Its not that I don’t like her. She seems nice enough, but I have to talk about everything all over again and I don’t want to. I don’t want to talk about why I’m in there to begin with. I give good answers to the questions asked, but details are left out because I don’t want to relive them mentally. Some I don’t even think about while I’m there, almost like they were forgotten. Then later, they will play in my mind and I sink back into my shell and don’t want to come out again. I’ve been saying everyday since my missed appointment that I’m going to call back. Then I forget. I mean I think I forget. Maybe I supress the idea? Either way when I do think about calling its when it’s Midnight, or I’m driving, or its 2:30 on a Friday and I say they have probably left early for the weekend. Or the kids are out for the summer and I have no family here to watch the boys so I can go to an appointment so what can I do? Then it gets pushed to the back of my brain till 1:00am on a Saturday…

I spend more time in my room than a person probably should. I let my kids play video games more than I should. I have a list of excuses why; It’s 90+ degrees outside with 85% humidity. It’s too hot for the kids to play outside at the park. And they can’t play outside here because this isn’t a safe neighborhood. And I can’t go outside and watch them because it’s too hot for the baby. We can’t go to the pool everyday because, well because I don’t have $6.75 admission everyday. We go to the library a couple times a week, but we don’t stay for more than an hour. I’m so shakey I just want to get to my safety zone ASAP.
So my couch and my bed are where I spend the most time. And my kids are either watching videos with me or in their room playing video games.
Hence; I am a failure……

My damn dog

Well, I can’t sleep. I have to get up @5am to make Mr.Man his breakfast and lunch and drive him to work and I can’t sleep. I know it’s a combination of not having coffee till noon and Mr.Man himself taking up 80% of the bed. He’s sleeping corner to corner and one of his ginormous legs is ontop of me. He’s spread out like a starfish..and he’s snoring. I’m beginning to think Lucy and Ricky had the right idea with the two seperate beds. Except if we did that they’d always be pushed together, defeating the whole purpose.

So since I can’t sleep, I’ll ponder about my dog. He’s smart and stupid all at once. He weighs about 10 lbs and is cute as hell. Most chihuahua mixes have those ugly bug eyes and that look like nobody is home upstairs. My dog got more of the weenie dog look I guess. He was a cute little shit when I brought him home and he still cute. But back in California, he was an apartment dog. He got walked on a leash and ate out of a bowl. Now we live outside town limits and 2 blocks from the bayou and the fucker’s gone wild. He escapes out the front door every morning and wreaks havoc on the neighborhood. He barks at EVERYTHING. I used to be proud because people would tell me “oh he’s so good. He’s not one of those yippy dogs.” Thanks for jinxing it assholes. Now he doesn’t shut up. He stays on our end of our street (a dead end) and barks at cats, squirrels, birds, garbage trucks, the mail man, nice little old ladies checking their mail. You name it, he barks at it.
We have a neighbor 2 houses down that the dog goes over there and hangs out on the mans porch. The man gives him bones and such. You’d think they were homies. But as soon as the neighbor  starts walking over to our house, the damn dog acts like the neighbor is the fucking devil himself.
You might be asking “Well why don’t you keep the dog inside and only take him out on a leash?” Good luck with that shit. With the kids going in and out 20x a day or Mr.Man going out for a smoke, the dog gets out. He’s only 10inches high and quick like a bunny. And you call his name and he’ll turn around and look at you with a stare as if to say “yes? What the hell do you want?” The dog’s not right. When we first moved here, he saw the squirrels gathering acorns and took an interest. He started eating acorns. Then he started holding them in his mouth and sneaking them in the house. I find acorn stashes in closets from time to time. Once I watched him out the window and he had gotten 2 acorns, put them next to each other and then sat on them like it was the thing to do. I said “Simba, what are you doing?” He didn’t even get up, he just looked at me with that “can I help you” look again.
Now at night I call him to come in and he ignores me. So we go to bed and an hour later he is barking at the door to be let in. So like an idiot I’m there to open the door for him. But he takes off yipping at Lord knows what…soI close the door and go back to bed. 10 minutes later, he’s back at the door to be let in. I say fuck it. You’re staying outside asshole. But he continues to bark and bark and the baby is starting to wake up, along with half the damn neighborhood and the dead… So he wins. But tomorrow is another day. And Mr.Man has moved over 4 inches so I’m going to try and relax and get some sleep.