~ HerdinKittys ~

Milestone

ANNABELLA PAGE

B. 30 AUG 04 @ 1055 A.M.

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIG BEAN

CAN’T WAIT UNTIL SAT. FOR YOURS AND

SAMANTHA’S HAPPY (BDAY PARTY)

Music and Memories

Kick and drag my feet then hem and haw and finally, oh but finally, I log on to my soon-to-end account with emusic.com to seek out my remaining downloads.  There are several things worth noting in the above statement 1. Ending subscription=sad but no longer in the budget  2.remaining downloads=lazy, money wasting woman.  Why on earth I let my subscription just flounder is beyond explanation because there are quite a few excellent music choices on the site.  Sounds like a paid advertisement for them but no, it’s sheer, unadulterated joy. Ever have that song that escapes capture, the one you can’t find the title to or for some reason the artist is so obscure you think you’ll remember it if you only repeat the name over and over and over again after the dj calls it out?  This is my undoing, my downfall if you will – to tell myself not to forget and then forget.  It’s a state of mind that will make you grit your teeth and fume but none of that will help the old brain cells kick back into gear and hopefully, hopefully, at least one sentence from the song will come back so it can be looked up on the web.  My life is full of these songs and lord help me if I catch a tune off a commercial.  It becomes a crusade to find that piece of music and I’m all over the web.  So last night I decide to get my lazy, forgetful self onto the music site of obscure and voila! instant success with an artist that has eluded me for 2 years!!!  In other words, hot damn I got my Chick music on. 

Her name is Dar Williams and she is just what you’re looking for if folksy/straight-to-the-point/thought provoking/ beautiful voice / lyrically witty music is up your alley.  More to the point, she’s what I was looking for and WOO HOO to me.  I’ve been researching the wrong lyrics to the one track I thought I knew for 2 years now and somewhere along the way I gave up, thinking that the catchy-folksy song I heard on NPR one gorgeous holiday afternoon was a farce. I was driving up rte. 29 in Saragtoga Springs, NY with the sun starting to set and the air crisp and cool, worthy of having the Jeep windows removed and NPR in the background.  A total state of relaxation washes over my soul on those type drives, with the smell of wood fires lingering in the air and the mountains of Vermont looming out over the horizon – please dear lord let me be back there.  This music does that, it transports you to that very drive, to the corner coffestore sipping on the beverage of choice while enjoying the pleasure of people watching and just being there, quietly.  The music site lists many of her albums for download as does Williams’s site and not all of her music is “quiet” which explains the long description above.  Some is pure folk while other songs are edgier, glossier and I enjoy them all.  So what I’m saying is, I recommend the music and that I need to rejuvenate my spirit again with New England.  And for what it’s worth, the song was “The Christians and the Pagans”.  Anyone care to go on a road trip?

Lather

I’ve been watching very little news lately.  The mood swings are back and I’m afraid to cry over the tragedy-du-jour in front of the girls.   Many things have been playing on my mind recently and its getting harder to switch the on/off switch nowadays.  I’m not truly neurotic, definitely not bi-polar, maybe a small touch of OCD (come on though, how many people have this now?  Believe it’s now safer to say you have it than not), nor do I have ADD.  I do suffer from PPD and a raging case of the normal depression that never went away from teenage-angst years both of which are easily curbed by a simple pill.  What’s really starting to gnaw at my core is the PMS – it’s forever.  As in forever and fucking ever.  I might have one good week where everything seems stable and WHAM!  altered mental state that the simple pill is not taking care of.  'It is what it is' as my husband says and he’s right. 

There’s a little technique I’ve used for years to help stave off some of the anger that wells up – showers.  Showering is a good thing regardless but certainly I’m not the only person that works out her frustration while shampooing her hair.  It was the cure all for those dark times when talking with the friends or writing things down just wasn’t cutting it.  Lately – well lately those types of showers have been having some sort of weird aftereffect.  Instead of coming out clean and cleansed it’s more along the lines of clean and piss-drunk crazy mad.  I churn up more shit in the shower than I can even imagine – things that do not even pertain to me, things that have not even happened.  It’s just plain stupid yet it’s getting worse and not bathing is not a practical solution.  Gross.  More writing I suppose.  I’m going to start being a total bore on here (start?  hmmm, okay) and begin dredging up old crap, news items, etc. that won’t clear outta my head because this cannot continue.   Nothing is going to be off limits (what a load of crap, exaggerated piece of malarkey that statement is) so far as it doesn’t get myself or husband the disapproval of others.   

 

No one likes you

It’s almost 5 p.m. and I’ve wasted all of my free time (nap time for babies) fucking around and reading things that are just...mean. Some things were just downright cruel.   Rants and rips and I should’ve taken my own advice and stopped looking but the hate just sat there on my screen, wanting me to read it.  I agree that everyone has the right to express themselves and if that includes ugliness so be it.  And just so that it’s understood, I don’t mean that to include expression to induce (invoke, wtf?  brain is not working) violence.  Common sense and all that.  I could get on a big soap box about being able to take the hit if you’re putting yourself out there but I’m a big, giant, pussy – meaning, I can’t take it.  Damn I hate being called out, its right up there with tripping in public and saying shit out loud, thinking it’s funny and no one laughs.  Ughhh.   I’ve been paying enough attention to recognize the perks and downfalls of the internet community.  I know what it is when someone is called an attention whore and ya know what?  If you’re writing on the web, you’re an attention whore.  Period.  Otherwise you’d be writing stuff down in a small journal and stashing the thing in you’re side table drawer.   Would I call you this to your face, PlEASE!  See above description of myself.  What’s wrong with wanting attention?  Seriously?  And if you draw attention to those who want attention, then you’re asking for – attention.  Embrace it, love it, fucking earn it but please, how nasty does it have to get.  Nasty enough for me to look at it, feel nauseated, force myself away, and not return to said items.  Because I repeat, I am a pussy.  So be it.

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Home after a long evening out with GG and the girls and guess what little tidbit of information I found out.  Damn if HK eldest isn’t gut-wrenchingly afraid of bugs.  This information would have been nice to know however, she seems to have just conjured the fear up outta nowhere.  I believe they learn from watching those around them but her mother’s way of dealing with bugs is by cursing them and thwacking them dead.  Thwacking being a serial event instead of one blissful lights out for poor bugs.  It does NOT include me screaming as if I were dying.  I never in my life knew how horrible it would be to see my own child’s face engulfed in pure panic.  I never want to see that look again and I know I will and it pisses me off. 

I had stayed well past night- night time for the girls and packed them in the car as quickly as possible, having my mom watch them while I ran back to get a forgotten item (story of my life, geezus).  Upon my return I hear the eldest screaming, see her panicked and for a split second just stood there, not knowing what to do.  Said culprit, a moth.  Not a killer moth but an average joe ‘hey look a car light’ kinda moth.  And it flipped her the fuck out.  To which I swished the moths (they accumulate ya know) away into the night.  Samantha cried a little and then slept.  We begin the trip and 2 minutes later it begins again and I yell (bad mom, sheesh) and stop to swish again.  Only this time it’s only tiny gnats.  But the universe has it out for me as of late and to show me who the top bitch around here is decided to usher in a nice surprise.  At the moment I turn in my seat and tell the child its okay a goddamn grasshopper- looking creature lights on her window.  Motherfucker with a capitol TTTTT!!!  It did not swish away to which her panic grew and my frustration and I jumped out of the car and headed to her side of the door.  It sat there, I swooshed, it landed in my hair and I grabbed the little twit and threw it on the ground.  Enough!  Open car door and encounter silence.  “That’s odd” I think for a split second and eyes focus on the why.  Poor child became so horrified she threw up.  Not the usual ‘I’ll show you’ puke rather, an Exorcist froth of spit and puke and dribble.  Pick child up, strip her, and hold her.  Tight.  Samantha was still asleep but I wanted to grab her and do the same.  I didn’t because I’m insane, not stupid.  They’ll have a million of those moments, some I can help and others I’ll have to catch them in the end.  This makes me angry and sad and defenseless – but I’ll keep on swooshing.  Always.  Love you both baby girls.

Bien, et tu?

Annabella has channeled the spirit of a French woman and it is quite entertaining.  I would say something much wittier concerning the French woman, what era she comes from, how many packs of cigarettes she smokes but I know nothing about French eras.  I know French toast, French fries – pathetic and yet I choose to wallow in this ignorance of mine.  Now ask me about early American culture/history and that’s a whole  other ballgame.   But no, she chose this French woman so we’re stuck with it. 

At any given point in the day Annabella will invariably seek out her sister with the need to share her scolding skills screaming “Bebe, Bebe, Bebe”.  Nice.  Add that to the foreign collection of accents.  We also have the “KAHHHH” for car and “MUM, MUM, MUM”.  I’m blaming the Wiggles for these.

Going out on that limb

As it stands, I’ve learned to see the world and humanity as somewhat crappy.   Call it what you will, albeit negative outlook or realism, but it just seems that everything around me is slipping into this dismal pit of rude, anti-social scum.  And then today a few things went *poof* and humanity earned some much needed points.  At least the humanity centrally located in my teeny portion of the world.  So instead of giving an all out description of said events I’ll play a game.  To liven up what is swirling around in my head.  It’s a game of “what if” and there are no winners.  As usual, questions lead to questions or are rhetorical.....whatever.

What if:

•              My husband had never mentioned a certain neighbor's name in passing.  Just  to let me know that he had connected with someone, if only briefly.  To inform me that at least one of our neighbors didn’t scare the crap out of him. 

 

•       My husband hadn’t had duty today.

•           Our daughters had woken up a bit more cheery than what I encountered after their afternoon naps.

•           I didn’t get cabin fever after being in the apartment for a mere 6 hrs

•          I had taken my medicine sooner rather than later in the afternoon

•           The craft store we wandered into had WIDER FUCKING AISLES.  And don’t tell me it’s my problem because I have children and am carting them around.  I’m having a hard enough time carting them around in a cart but do I have to put up with Ms Lady.  The one who sneered and cut me off because I couldn’t perform Indy 500 maneuvers with my cartload of children thus causing me to veer closer to store shelves.   This allows small little fingers a chance to grab lots of non-edible and sometimes toxic items off of shelves.  PLEASE people!

•       I had taken the girls to the park instead.

•           We hadn’t gone to the fast food restaurant for babies to play indoors.

•           I hadn’t become incredibly flustered while trying to get one child’s shoe on and keep off the playground while unbuckling and picking up younger child.

•             One of the two women whom I had been talking hadn’t raised many a child herself, ignoring above commotion.   Instead, she ran over and picked younger child up out of her highchair.  Because she knew.  She just knew. 

•            Running off of tears and gratitude and exhaustion, I hadn’t been so perceptive in my parking lot?

•           None of above happened.  Then I wouldn’t have given two dimes worth of attention to neighbor locked out of car/apt.   I wouldn’t have noticed that he was the man who husband spoke of.  I would have walked away quickly.  Or would I?   I wouldn’t have lent him my cell phone, going inside and having him return it later.

Seriously, what if?

A Long Time Comin

The oldest daughter of ours, Annabella, is on a kick.  She repeats everything sure, but more importantly, she’s associating those words with actions, expressions, etc.   It makes for some very entertaining afternoons and I must say, the Wiggles are teaching her quite nicely.  Make that her Father annnddd the Wiggles.  For you see I am spending my days mostly cleaning because holy crap this apartment of ours gets filthy in 0-60 secs flat.  What with all the cleaning, who has time to learn the chilldens.  If they want to know how to count to five they’ll have to find me behind the laundry basket full of clothes that were just cleaned mind you but due to insufficient motivation, said clothes were left on floor, chewed on, spit up on and need to be cleaned yet again.  You would think with all this cleaning the home would look neat – you would think.  But if you were to walk in here at any given moment you would promptly be attacked by :

a.  Cheerios

b.  Shoes – for the love of god, the shoes!

c.  Toys of various shapes, sizes, VOLUMES

d.  Whatever that stuff is over by the door

e.   Come to think of it, the sticker by the stuff over by the door

So you see, on top of going to the park and mall and another trip to the western portions of Virginia, we’ve been busy here right smack in our own home.  And I stand by that excuse when I realize I’ve been lazy and haven’t posted in awhile.  Hmmph.

In other news – the husband is home!   Commence deep breathing and anything else that may need to be commenced. 

presents

Happy 33^rd

     There was a cake, family, healthy children running around their GG’s backyard.  Humidity was down to almost zero making the air play worthy.  Presents were opened right after an amazing meal of chicken and dumplings.  Goodbyes were said to relatives who will be leaving tomorrow.  The house is now full of leftovers and presents and tired babies who fell asleep the moment they were placed in the crib.  And all the while, none of it, not one single minute felt complete.  Tomorrow finds us in a car, driving westward towards the mountains that remind us            

so very much of

New York

.  There will be shouts of  “Nana, Papa” and the girls will once           again find themselves in a backyard beyond their tiniest dreams.  We’ll have another party,        we will open one or so presents and then tuck little ones back into bed.  And all the while,           none of that will feel complete.

   It took one little email tonight to cause my chest to empty the massive breath I’ve been holding all day.  You said not to worry, that you’re being selfish to not want me for just ten minutes only to stop hugging and say goodbye.   You said I was everything.  EVERYTHING.   The email you were sent back was jovial, to the point, and still did not convey how strongly you are missed, how much you are loved, how dire this need for you to be here has become.  It’s a short one, a quick run out to sea and back, something that shouldn’t even be counted.  At least that’s what everyone keeps saying.   It counts, the seconds count, the minutes count, I’m tired of counting.  There’s nothing that can be done about that.   It should just be “gotten over”, it won’t.  Today was a birthday.   There was really only one present.  Your email. 

A Hair Down Kinda Day

Today has been good.  Nothing less than a calm, thoroughly enjoyable day in which the girls and I just hung out,slept, and dined out.  All I need now is a good stiff drink and I'm set.  Except there are no beverages in the fridge so another cup of coffee to top off the evening.  With that said and done here's a list because I'm being lazy tonight. 

Tidbits, Ends and Odds:

1.       I was a Navy brat (briefly in childhood), step-daughter to a sub sailor (briefly), and now I am a Navy wife.  I eat, breathe, and live the lifestyle and I'm ok with that.

2.       I am not the stereotypical Navy wife.

3.       Had I been married to HK husband 10 yrs earlier, I would definitely have been the stereotypical Navy wife.

4.       I am my husband's 2nd wife.  His first wife is pretty neat - I wouldn't write about her unless they both said OK. 

5.       I will NOT be writing about any significant other attached to the boat on which HK husband is stationed.  Not only would that be rude but I have no interest in screwing my husband three ways and sideways just because I felt I needed to "Blow off steam"   Now, if this were an anonymous blog.........things mighta been different.

6.       I will NOT write about boat “stuff” that can’t be written about.  Enough said.

7.       For eight years I worked as a "General Maintenance Worker" aka mechanic/fixed anything that didn't get away fast enough.  I did this at a naval submarine firefighting and damage control facility.  I will not be writing too much about that either.  They made me sign papers.  Fuck.

8.       What can be written about that position.......HK got to fight herself some fires for maintenance reasons.  Hot and sweaty.  Could literally fix anything mechanical, electrical, etc.   HK  used to be one tough bitch.

9.       The men I worked with were amazing co-workers (eventually I had one female co-worker and she ROCKED) My whole attitude about men changed because of those guys.

10.    HK was an amazing worker but not an amazing employee.   Late almost every single day.  No excuses.  Horrible. I still feel nauseated thinking about what a wench I was about that.  Blgghhhh

11.    Being late now sets me off the deep end.  I can not handle it.  Period.  If I can't be there on time, I don't go.

 

12.    A therapist I was going to (Geezus, imagine that) was late to my appointment.  WTF!  I never went back.

13.    Speaking of men, before HK's husband, HK was a complete hooch.  Talking  Grade-A certified ho.  You know what; it was worth every single goddamn minute.

14.    Wild Oats sewn: check        Drinking curbed: check    Still one freaky wench:  Check

15.    Smoker for 10+yrs, ex-smoker for 2, miss it every single day.  Oh my god, quitting sucks

16.    We are a liberal household.....We as in WE.  Not uber-liberal, liberal.  We don’t condone the act of cats and dogs signing any peace agreements.  That’s just bad politics.

17.    HK husband and HK do not discuss religion with each other.  It is an ugly topic for HK to delve into and she refrains from debates with others as well.  If HK is confronted with religion/religious topics/lifestyle debates/etc.  she will either keep her eyes diverted or roll them in your general direction and say, "I'm not comfortable debating OPINIONS such as these thank you". Period. Fucking Period.  whew. head exploding

18.    HK is rather full of herself and refers to herself randomly in 3rd person.  She is obviously one weird puppy with a massive ego to boot.  Lovely to meet you, said me.

19.    I have a low-tolerance threshold for rudeness.  I will call you out bitch.  As of lately, this applies mostly to middle-aged women.  Seriously, get over yourselves.   Topple that with only saying/repeating what can be repeated back to person I am talking  about …HK is not always fun to play with.

20.    I’d like to think I am amongst the majority of women who all agree – we don’t get along with other women.  Nice huh.  That’s just really sad.

Must sleep.  The end.  Something like that. 

Enough already

Which would you like first - comments on a deranged mother or, universe takes a break from being all universy to come and bitch-slap me?  I'll take neither for the moment and indulge in positive vibes before delving into schlup.  I took a gigantic breath today and made a phone call - for a babysitter.  'Silly, silly, neurotic woman' is what comes to mind eh?  Ok, let's take a quick look back at some HK information.  For the past 4 years HK and husband have lived in upstate NY, an amazing area that we both want to hold and hug and squeeze and call our own.  Along come two bitty wee ones in those last two years with NO family, NO sitters, NO daycare to aid in our raising of these to darlings and boom - you have neurotic.  I don't care, I don't care what people think of that, it's simply what it is and this new young person who's coming to watch our children is going to make me have anxiety like you've never seen.  She was recommended through her mother, whom is a wonderful person and a dear friend to my mother and tonight I took the plunge and asked her to help us.  She said yes and now I can't stop going over in my mind what all this entails.  Not a whole lot in normal people world but in HK Bizarro world I'll be planning up until she arrives on the front step.  At which point I'll remain calm until I start driving away and then I'm sure I'll flip the fuck out!  Ahhh geeze, lord help me, this is still a positive step.

Now with all that pesky positive crap out of the way, onto delving shall we.  I have pissed in my mother's cheerios and have no clue when I did so.  Because that is the only explanation for the rude, lackluster, uncaring, self-absorbed attitude she is throwing my way and it has now finally pissed me off enough to write it down. Here.  As with every story there are two sides but trying to get hers would involve more ass kissing than I have patience for and that's sad because I'm sure it's valid.  I mean, apparently me expressing to her that I'm completely exhausted, that although I  know she can't childproof everything it is also exhausting chasing babies around screaming like a mad woman to "PUT THAT DOWN" or "NO NO NO".  Somehow this puts me on a shit list, that or one of my sisters told her I called her a wuss.  For dealing with a cold and a pulled tooth and acting as though it were the end of the world.  You know what the end of the fucking world is......it's when you have that very same cold and are running around exhausted and babies are screaming and your husband has to be driven in to work to where he will be out to sea for a month (I know, I know, at least it's only a month) and the house has no one else to clean it but your own sickly self and you are not able to rest for one damn second.  Giant meteor sized end of the fucking world.  Too BAD!!!  Welcome to the life of a million other women.  Top this with the fact that she'll watch the girls so I can shop for birthday party items (of which I never asked her to do so, I actually asked her to come along and have fun with the girls and me out in town) but she avoids offering when I truly need her.  I don't know, say picking up my husband when he returns home.  I seriously thought about not writing this, maybe she might find the site per accident one bright and sunny day.  You know what? Good, WTF? mom.  Next time I take a piss tell me and I'll see what I can do if anything, okay? 

*clearing thoughts and onto sunnier areas of life*     For your amusement:  When our good friends, the ones who moved cross country, first informed us of where they were being transferred I was a tad jealous.  Husband and I were almost transferred to Bangor,WA and for months I had taken to the Internet looking for places to rent.  Reading about the beauty that is the area.  Relishing in the fact that we would be far away from the crap that is the area we live in.  While it was not to be for us, for them it was a done deal.  And so, in knowing that friend's husband is absolutely terrified of all flying, creeping creatures (insects), I promptly read up on the areas bug residents.  The Giant House Spider popped right up on All & Sundry, and voila, instant joke time.  Because I am just this mean I casually mentioned said creepies to friends and watched as their faces contorted ever so slightly with disgust.  Jump ahead to a few days after their move in and we are emailed with the fact that yes, said creepies do exist and have already caused an incident. While I'm sure the hopping around was amusing, I did feel bad for having jinxed their move-in.  Jump ahead to....Tonight.  Enter Universe and Karma, winding up for a backhand bitch-slap.:

HK going about her business of cleaning up house that was laid to waste by small children giggling and running.  HK enters laundry closet to throw clothes in basket.  HK comes face to face (well, honestly, face to laundry room floor) with nasty, vile beast.

HK:  tra la la,  spots creature from hell "Mother of all that's, good god!!!

Beasty:  internal monologue that I channeled, I'm just that good " la la la I'm a spider, I just wanna eat bugs, la la la"

HK:  "OH MY God!!! DIE piece of crap"  Commence spraying poor beasty with some bug juice, repeatedly until soaked

Beasty: "la la la  blgggh hackkkk blghhh"  Commence the freak out

To which the beasty then proceeded to LEAP AT ME, and do some sort of bizarre dance of death.  And I sprayed it some more.  Because you can never be too careful right?  Far be it for me to keep my stroke out to myself, here it is.  Enjoy: