~ HerdinKittys ~

Don't move - it's a hoo haa

Why yes, tonight I shall be discussing the apparant decline in hoo haa support.

What?

That's right, even though some might think the fight for a relative equality between the hoo haas and the dingle dangles is over and the battlefield has been lysoled - those some would be off.  At least in my neck of the commonwealth it's still a raging.

Scenario shall we:

trusty ol Army hospital on the a.m. of littlest beans pediatric check-up.  Waiting room filled with us -hk and hk bebes- and them - mom and bebes of the dingle dangle gender approx. the same age as hk bebes. 

Off they go, leading the way for the youngest boy to get the shots.  We are waiting to see his shots and raise him one lab draw. 

Out they come from the sticking with the youngest looking pretty pissed off at his mother.  The oldest is visibly relieved that the needles were not pointed in his vicinity.  The mom spots us and questions us as to whether we're next. 

"Mhmm, four just like yours I assume"

"Yep, he got four"

"She's not crazy about getting stuck and puts up a mean fight"

"He did okay.  But yeah, boys are tougher than girls."

huh?

seriously. huh?

This woman described in 5 quick seconds why it was that I had to fight for so many years to be considered worth "something" at the trainer.  Truly, are we still here? Are we still at the point where this lingo is considered acceptable? 

And if one person calls this questioning silly on behalf of conversational verbage and the "norm" and "oh, don't be so quick to make some drama out of nothing" - I'll freekin pull my toenails out and whip 'em at you. 

Gross right?  Yeah, I'd duck too.

It's not okay to think this way.  To verbalize it, pass it down to your own boys and verbally jettison it onto people who know better - ma'am, you should learn to know better. 

Boys are great. Hell, I married a grown one.  My dad's a grown one and while I still have issues with him as an individual, as a man, well, he's a good man.   This meaning that I do not have some woman superiority complex.  Yes, women are great too but greater than men?  Isn't that more of an opinion?  Fact being that while the human physical (neurological and chemical included) make-up limits both genders in certain areas where one or the other would excel,  it does not pertain to the actual prowess one would have over the other.  There are simply to many environmental issues at play.  Or is this all my opinion? 

Simply put....please for the love of pete and his everlovin mama, do not tell me that just because my daughters are in possession of hoo haas rather than the d.dangles that they are any less tough.  It is an insult.  And to end this little soapbox I leave with this little conversation between Earl and myself a few years back.  Whether you agree with the issue discussed is irrelevant, it's to show the ridiculous nature of gender assignment in our culture.

On the subject of women on subs....                                    

"you're not sexist so I don't understand the lack of care on this"

"you're right, I'm not. And I don't approve of the stance but I don't see how it can change or why it should.  You know the arguments, you've been out on a boat - too close of quarters, chance of harrasment on both sides, adultry, pregnancy"

"So what they're saying is, because I (women in general) have a Vagina, and that being the only reason due to everything you just stated pertaining to having one....I can't do certain things that those in possession of a Penis can do.  By law.  The Penis has the right to be on the boat because it's a Penis.  What, it's smarter, it gives you superpowers to be tough?  Seriously hun, what?  And don't give me the crap about women having our own boats.  I don't see them making that happen.  It's the same as it always was and worse.  The acceptance is too engrained.  So, when your daughters look at you and say 'well, we wanna go sub but we have Vaginas' I'll let you take that one. 

Quite frankly, if it's not changing, I'm getting sick of the fight.  Shame on us.  Shame on the system and mostly, for not speaking up, shame on me.

Ahhh Lawd

Great goodness ....my sweet and lovely NPR, how you have been missed.  The universe has been kind this weekend - my mother stayed over Friday; we were with her Saturday at my grandmother's; and today...ewwwww  ahhhhh - today she watched the girls for a few hours and I was given the privilege to ride in a car by MySeLf.  More importantly, I was able to listen to whatever I wanted too without full assult-ammo Bella with her infamous barrage of "no,no,nO,NO,NOOOO".  Given the endless choices of radio stations/cds what did I choose?

NPR   oh yeah  NPR   

Say it -    NPR

It's sexy -    NnnnPpppRrrr

Adult freekin conversations held on my itty car stereo and lo and behold I was engaged. 

Behold, she learnth:

Emma Lazarus, amazing yes?   I am looking forward to immersing myself in her poetry if it is readily available.  What an interesting character in American history

Mr. F - no coffee for you.  This is all you get when I myself only caught the middle of what seemed a most cozy storytelling time.

The rest...Garrison Keillor oh how you hold my ear and bend it in such delictable ways what with your cowboy tales and your homelake news.

I am refreshed and rejuvinated and ever so thankful.  My mother is the bestest.  Universe, you rock.

I'll show you mine....

There is a place that lies just below the surface - so very close that a single scratch can bring it boiling towards the fresh air above.  To fester but mostly to show just how scary a thing it really is.  It's just about the right time for this to happen....everyone loves a horror story don't they?   It's brown and murky, it clings to every crevice because it is equally gooey.  It encases your insides and causes you to stop dead in your tracks and all you want to do is crawl up into the fetal position and wish it away.  Please make these hot tears go away, please don't let me implode.  It is always with you even on light and sunny days and just when you think your soul couldn't be any more free it snags something in the distance and brings you back down. 

Even when you try to fix things, to make it "all" better it's not going away.  And the utter and complete desparation comes welling back to the surface.  There aren't enough showers, enough vices to make it go away.  You call it your bitch and then you fall to your knees in your room because you realize just how true that statement is.  Your child looks up at you on a normal sunny morning and the only thing keeping you from stopping all of it is that look in her eyes.  The one that states, "I'm here, you can't go.  You have to play the game."  So what happens when the game becomes to overwhelming.  When walking outside or god forbid sitting alone in your den you actually feel all your atoms dying. 

That's my depression.

It's always here.

And no matter how hard I scream inside and whimper and plead for someone to just fucking help me it simply Will Not subside. 

It's quite easy to tell someone to suck it up.  Life's too short.  No, it's not.  It's painfully long at times.  It creeps by and you see it through blurry eyes. 

I don't play the victim game.

There are humans out there who know what real pain is. 

That's why it stings.  You have absolutely no right to complain.  With your life of somewhat privilege and your existence of nothing to truly fear. 

But it does sting.  And it's sharp and bright and it will swallow you whole if you leave it unchecked.

There are many triggers in this world.  How are you going to play the game? 

Prep Work

Items in the daily routine have changed drastically.  Apparently cats are falling in love with dogs 'cause the stuff here is completely topsy turvy. 

~ Preparing for Earl's departure.  Another short underway before the "big one".  This means that things are going better for his work environment which means an easier time at home.

~ Close encounters with the rude kind out shopping with the bebes.  I do not have teenagers....read - I am ill equipped at present to deal with 16 yr olds being ugly to customers.  This does not mean I accept it (my previous managers would have fired my ass on the spot....no tolerance) but simply that I don't like to come down on kids that aren't mine.  Earl, he can take it.  Poor manager. 

~ Being called sir by yet another teenager.  This time, said teenager was not being rude.  Although it confuses me due to the sheer aura my ta tas exude.  They cross the threshold a few months before I enter a room.  This is not bragging.  Seriously.  They can be a royal pain.

~ Networking.  For the love of pete and pete's mama too.  This crap kicked my ass.  I shoulda been paid for the heartache it caused.  And whilst I will not be calling out a certain giga store o'lectronics, they can suck it.  Fuckers.  The thought of shelling out more money to have them set my pets up....oh hell no. 

~ Money,Money,Money.  Have it, need it, hate it, need it.  Budgets suck but panic attacks suck even more.  I freak Out not knowing about household money matters. 

~ This website.  I need a change for me.  It's prissy and I am not prissy.  Sometimes girly but borderline masculine in most of my decorating issues.  This design is killing me.  So is figuring out a design format that doesn't look completely ripped off from some of my favorite sites. 

and for the record....it's Rachel

I realize my posting habits have been all screwy lately.  My mind is racing around itself just trying to figure out where the hell our back-up discs to such-and-such are much less trying to write down in an intelligible manner what's on this same mind.  Run ons are fun right?  So, time to get down and gritty.

First and foremost, how do you attack the problem of a 2 year old screaming "UP" in the store.  So loudly that it echos and ricochets and busts your eardrums and then laughs in your pathetic mom face.  "UP" "UPPP"  "UPPPPPPPP"  God DAMN IT!!!!   Because honestly, I don't like to take the muzzle out with us and beating a child with a shoe is outlawed so really?  What are the options?  Oh yeah, and can those options come with a side of "mother who has to take her children to the store due to no income for daycare (just wait for that biatch of a rant- assgrabbingjerkswhotakeyourmoneyandignoreyourkids) and no babysitter set up for the day hours and no husband and she just needs some fucking milk and chicken bites"?  Because really all I would like to do is go to the store and go home.  Children hooting aren't a problem.  Hell, I can take the screaming.  I understand her fustration and this is how she shows it.  She's 2.  Her itty bitty baby ass IS STILL NOT getting "UPPPP" but I can take it.  What I don't know how to take are the glares.  I've said it before, I'm not neurotic but - It's bad enough she's unhappy which makes me fidgety sorta, but the other customers....they have a right to shop in peace No?   Yelling back does not work, I don't buy her things so there's nothing to take away, small toys I do bring in with us and take away only make the yelling louder.  Pick her up?  Well, why didn't I think of that....that way she can scream for anything and know she'll get her way.  I'm at a loss and defensive and honestly I can't take anyone else giving me the evil eye anymore.  So if you're in my area at the local shopping warehouse and you see a woman beating the crap out of an elderly woman  -better yet, a biatch mom/woman who turned and scowled or a punk ass 250 lb grownfuckingman who walked past and glared for a few seconds at the 'screamer' and by beating I mean some serious ass woopin - then stop by and say heya.  I promise I'll stop the smacketh down to smile and say heya back. 

Next and last most is the subject of Earl or rather, the name I bestow upon the husband.  Here's the thing - this website is rather new and not exactly anonymous.  It's on a club site for moms in my area that found me - imagine that - and Earl's boats group site.  The profile and site are out there.  I'm unknown but definitely not anonymous.  For the record...I'm Rachel.  My husband is Glenn.  Our names and others knowing them isn't a big deal.  I simply prefer hk because in my mind, talking about myself and thinking "Rachel" is just weird.  And posting about Glenn isn't as intimidating if I don't use his name.  It feels like I'm calling him out.  Which I usually am but oh-the-fuck well.  He's used to me.  He knows that if I don't write about stuff here, then the household is not a fun and inviting territory.  He comes on here, he knows what I write and is mildly amused.  Maybe not so much from the writing as my obsession with this and other blogs.  Again, he knows they're my outlet and Nothing more.  Escapism is great right? So from here on out - he's Earl.  And yes, I'm one unimaginative wench stealing from that tv show. 

So Earl.  Has to work all the time.  He leaves at 5am and is home on a good day by 7:30.  boo-fucking hoo I know.  He has duty.  Which for non-military means that on duty days he sleeps on the boat.  And works all the next day (if a wkday) to come home by 8.   We knew this going in.  The weekends are shot meaning that his chores to get things done for underway are done then.  There is no sitting down time and playing with kids while drinking coffee.   We knew this going in.  Here's the catch22....I knew this going in, am grateful his ass isn't over in Iraq/Saudi/Kuwait/hell on earth, my brother has already done that and I spent enough nights worrying about his ass - and am beyond fortunate for that but it's not getting better.  There is absofuckinglutely nothing to look forward to right now.  He leaves for deployment after holidays and I know it will be longer than the average underway.  The months will be tacked on.  We are not connecting.  It's not "love ya babe, bye" it's "hi, do we know each other anymore?".  There is a lot of working to be done in this home.  He's pissed, I'm pissed, and the girls.....nope.  The girls, they're happy to play kitchen and we make sure that they see us at least hug,kiss,talk, argue.  Notice argue, not scream.  We're trying it's just hard.   Grown up hard where no one wants to be this grown up. 

Interruption and Addiction

the head honcho crashed.  She left me with nothing but a simple desire but no umphhh to log on.  dear lord in all that's holy ohhhh big red jelly bean.......

so.  along with the need to set up shop from scratch I decided to jot down some quick notes on various addictions that this sudden problem has raised to the surface.  and grammar and plain ol good english are out.  I'm done.

• Computer addiction:  mother freekin freeking damn BLLEEEEPPPP.  No internet.  For the love of pete and pete's mama too.  It's official.  I'm a geek. 
• Smoking:  I am an ex-smoker or as I normally say, I'm just a cigarette away from being a smoker.  Just one.  I miss this habit so much I twitch - or my eye does at least.  It kills you yes but oh those blessed moments of calm. 
• Food:  curvy,fit,pretty damn hot.  Not even close nowadays.  I am fat and it's because I stuff my mouth.  Not because I'm hungry but to ease stress.  Baby stress, husband never fucking home stress, not smoking stress....could but won't go on.  SO - once again I'm gonna have to embrace the diet plan of choice.  The only one that works for me so that I'm healthy. 
• Sex:  this was me.  A long, long while ago.  and for a post later down the road i'll get into all the ho-ness a journal can handle (and how my husband somehow managed to miss this phase of my life) but for now there's nothing.  I've got nothing.  And while it normally doesn't kill you like smoking does, I miss it just as much.  Hello libido?  For the one night I get to sleep in the same bed as husband (instead of hot racking) it sure would be nice if you stepped up to the plate. 

That should sum it up for now.  Oh and excuse me while I gouge out an eye setting up our home network.  I'm busy, I'm happy, babies are doing well...ahhhhh.