Posted in adventure, aging, fun, funny, health, humor, Life, Musings, People, random, women

I Am Going To Get Old

I mean, not to jinx myself or anything, but…it kind of looks that way. I’m not one of those people who never thought they’d make it to 30, as I’ve heard So. Many. People. Announce. Nope, although perhaps, considering my lifestyle over the years, that should have been more of a concern of mine. I took for granted that I would make it to 30, and 40, and onward, I guess…but I think I thought I would just feel young forever.

Not so much. As my 44th birthday approaches in just a few days, I gotta tell you…shit is catching up to me. I wake up in the morning, and it seems that just the simple act of sleeping now causes my body such distress. I lurch upward like Frankenstein after he’s been electrified into life, making the same moaning and groaning sounds. I set my feet on the floor with great care, never sure exactly how bad which things will hurt. This morning, for instance, my lower back feels as if I spent the whole day yesterday lifting heavy things the wrong way, except I didn’t. All I did was go to bed last night, sleep, and wake up.

For that matter, just sitting in the same position for too long can now cause pain. What the hell is that about? Yesterday, I was lounging on the couch with my knee bent for like five minutes too long, apparently, and when I went to shift around, it hurt! I had to do it slowly to keep the agony at bay. What is that? Is it natures way of telling me I need to move more? Because I really don’t want to, but if I must, I suppose I can make it happen. Grudgingly.

I recently spent upwards of a hundred bucks on a cream that would purportedly “firm” the “crepey” skin of my neck. In other words, I’m trying to diminish the signs of old lady neck. I think it might be working, a little, but let me tell you something- this shit smells like something you would use to lubricate a diesel engine. I am not joking when I tell you that the older you get, the more…intense the scents of your skincare regimen become. When I was in my 20’s, everything smelled like “Fresh Orange Bursts!” or “Grapefruit Sorbet!” or some such shit. We then moved on to “Clean scents” that smelled mildly floral or…I don’t know, the way you remember your mom smelling, I guess. That was fine. At my age? They don’t even bother trying to mask the chemical aroma of the heavy-duty crap that’s trying to salvage the very flesh of your face. I literally have a tube of Retinol cream that’s called- and I am not making this up- “Help Me!”. Its job is to burn the top layer of my face off every night because my skin is so old it has now forgotten how to regenerate itself. And that’s just one of FOUR things I slather on my face and neck every night.

Gravity is working overtime on every part of my body, which is fine on the parts of me that I am not showing the world- I mean, that’s what bras are for, right? But the only face bra I know of is plastic surgery, and that’s not happening. Also, my arms…oh, man, my arms. I love, love, love sleeveless blouses, but lately I’m not pulling them off like I used to.  And I know, I KNOW- if I could just find it within me to get back on my gym routine, this is a problem that would be easily remedied, but…this is my griping post, so get out of my face with your helpful suggestions. I am not in the mood.

Everywhere I go, I see old people. I mean, I work at a hospital, and I live in a town where the older population is astronomically higher than average, but Jesus. I see these elderly people, trudging down the street, clutching canes and moving so slow, and it just…it freaks me out! I mean, best case scenario, I get old. That’s the WIN. My options are- 1.) Die right now, which would be tragic, because I’m still technically young by death’s standards, or 2.) Get really old and slow and sad and grouchy because everything is hard, including breathing. Ugh, I don’t even know why I am thinking about it!

Every day of my life, I read peoples medical records- it’s okay, that’s what I do for a living. But I’ve come to realize that I am incredibly healthy. I don’t take any medications for anything, my blood pressure is perfect, my cholesterol is normal. My weight is a bit of a problem, but not by medical standards, just by mine, personally. This would be great if I had lived a mild type of life and took generally good care of myself over the years. It’s a fucking miracle if you consider that I spent a great portion of my life doing things that might have looked, to a moderately intelligent bystander, as if I were actively trying to kill myself. Not even slowly kill myself, but like, soon. Like, tomorrow maybe.

So, I’ve got it pretty good. I think, with a few small tweaks, I could probably sail through the rest of my 40’s with aplomb, and make it look good. But, you know, it’s going to require a bit more effort on my part than it did in my 30’s, that’s all. And a few more tubs of diesel lubricant neck cream. And maybe a new mattress, because the one I have now is going to put me in a wheel chair, I’m not kidding. Perhaps a few more glasses of water, and maybe a little more time exercising.

I’ll get started right after I take a tiny little nap. Or maybe tomorrow. Hahaha.

 

 

Posted in adventure, fun, funny, humor, Life, Musings, People, random, women

I don’t know what happened (the story of my week)

Okay, so…last time I posted, I basically announced that I was quitting recovery, and then I disappeared off the face of the earth. I’m assuming that some of you figure I’ve been in a blacked-out stupor since then, busy torching the life I worked so hard to pull together.

Well, let me reassure you (or disappoint you, depending on what kind of person you are) that nothing could be further from the truth. I may or may not have mentioned that I finally fulfilled my resolution to give up smoking and vaping? Yeah, that happened last Thursday, so I’m a little bit over a week in now. I’ve been using the patch to get me through it, and some weird things happen to me on that patch. Well, not that weird- actually it’s pretty common, but…I have the most crazy dreams. Super freaky. My dreams are kinda strange and vivid anyway, but this turns up the weirdness to full blast. The thing about it, though, is that I enjoy the hell out of those dreams. I can’t seem to get enough of them. Or maybe it’s just harder to get out of bed, knowing there’s no nicotine reward waiting for me- either way, I’ve had a harder time getting out of bed in the morning. So it’s harder for me to fit in writing here, you see.

What else? Oh yeah, I’ve been eating as though it were my mission in life to explode my body from the inside out. Basically, I’ve completely lost the reigns of all my January resolutions this week, and I don’t know why, but I suspect it’s the giving up the smokes/vape thing. But yesterday I had an excuse- I went to my works anniversary brunch for people who have been with the hospital for ten years or longer. My first one! It was at the very swanky ballroom at Spanish Bay (in Pebble Beach, the golf mecca) and they provided a lavish buffet. I am not one to ever turn down a buffet. And no matter how I promise myself I will make wise choices and eat fruit and yogurt, I crumble in the face of Eggs Benedict and piles of bacon and sausage. I just can’t help it.

So that was my breakfast. I got to have the rest of the day off, and had offered to buy a good friend of mine lunch if she’d pick up Camryn from school, assuming I’d be hungry again by then. I had scheduled my annual mammogram for that afternoon, forgetting that I had it off. I would have much preferred to do that on a day I was working, so I could feel like “hey, if I have to get my boob squashed, at least I got out of work”, but I messed that up. Anyway, I was NOT hungry by the time I got out of there, but did that stop me from eating a massive sandwich? Of course it didn’t.

The end result of that being, I wound up in bed with a horrible stomach ache around 6 p.m., and Cam’s dad had to come over to see to her dinner and homework. I got up once to check on them, and he was asleep on the couch, while Cam had made some type of slime concoction to which she’d added a pencil sharpener, a hair clip, and something else I can’t recall. The fact that I didn’t even care should illuminate my state of mind for you. Normally, that would have really pissed me off, the lack of supervision. I just noted it and went back to bed. I didn’t even wash my face last night, that’s how zonked I was.

In other news, we got a kitten on Monday. Her name is Lily, and she is a 3 month old long-haired Calico. I can’t even deal with how cute she is. I’ll share pictures with you soon!

So, there’s my week- eating too much, sleeping too much, not handling my business the way I generally prefer to do. But I haven’t put anything in my lungs besides air, so I’m still calling it a win. I think today I will pull it together again.

Happy Friday!

Posted in Blogging, Dreams, fun, funny, humor, Life, living, Musings, People, random

Bad Dreams in a Cold House

cold
photo courtesy of memecrunch.com- not an actual photo of me.

 

I’m sitting here at my desk this morning, bundled up as if I were about to venture out into a hip-high snow drift (is that even a thing, a hip-high snow drift? I live in coastal California, I don’t know if that was right.) Anyway, you get the picture. Beanie, hoodie, jacket, leggings, fuzzy socks and Ugg boots. So where am I going, you wonder? Abso-freaking-lutely nowhere, that’s where I’m going. My thermostat is pushed over to 80, but the temperature in here won’t move even to 60, and the floors feel like ice. Sigh. It’s just an old house, with no insulation, single pane windows, and mysterious breezes blowing in all over the place.

Lucky for me, we get maybe a month of really cold nights a year- that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. To be honest, I can’t ever remember stuff like that, but it’s got to be in that general amount of time. And I know, I know- this is the girl that wants to move to the east coast, she can’t even handle a morning where the outside temp is 39 degrees (it is, I just checked). Well, again- this is California. I am never expecting to be this cold. Especially INSIDE my own house. There are certain things I feel I deserve in life, in return for working diligently and paying all my bills on time. One of them is not to freeze to death indoors. I don’t think that’s asking too too much. If and when I do move to the east coast, you can bet your ass I’m going to ask about insulation, dual pane windows, if the heater works, how drafty the house is, and whether or not the fireplace works. Oh, and maybe get someone to show me how to use a fireplace. That would be a good skill to have.

Anyway, I’m not sure if it was the cold house that caused my entire-night long bad dream last night or what, but it was really, really bad. It wasn’t a nightmare as in “monsters chasing me and my legs won’t run”, it was more typical of my normal sad, stressful, awful dreams. I get those fairly often. The main difference in this one was a.) the subject, and b.) the sheer scope of it. It was about my mom, and I don’t even want to say out loud exactly what it was, but it was terrible. I will be calling her as soon as it is a decent hour, rest assured. This dream was so long. I even woke up for like 20 minutes to escape it, and when I went back to sleep, it kept freaking going. I couldn’t stop it.

You know, it also might be the nicotine patch. I didn’t think about that. They always give me really vivid, crazy dreams. I bet that’s what it was. I could choose not to sleep with it on, but then I wake up in full nic withdrawal, and no one wants to see that. I haven’t smoked since the New Year started, not that it’s even a big deal when I quit anymore- it’s not even a big deal to me. The main difference is, this time the ONLY nicotine I am getting is from the patch. No other avenues. I had to give up chewing, too. Just kidding! I have never used chewing tobacco. Hahaha! I was vaping with a low nicotine vape but I feel like it’s just as bad as smoking, so. No more.

Before I go, I want to mention this- yesterday was my best day ever for views. EVER, in six years of blogging! I have had so many new followers this week, and I have been trying to engage more and be a faithful reader. I just want to say thanks to everyone who stops by. Trust me, I will slow down soon and post a more reasonable amount. This is just the frenetic energy of the fresh, sparkly new year leaving through my fingertips. I especially want to thank Paul at Captains Speech for his New Years Day post that kinda got the ball rolling for me. Thanks, man! (I did it, I did it! I posted a link!)

Have the best weekend EVER! And try to stay warm. Unlike me.

Posted in Blogging, family, fun, funny, humor, kids, Learning, Life, motherhood, Musings, parenting, People, women

*Real Quick

sleeping alone
This is not me, but totally how I feel about Cam sleeping in her own bed!

I promise I’m not going to start posting every single day, but just real quick, I want to share a couple of things:

1.) You GUYS!!! Camryn slept in her own bed last night, for the whole entire night! I tucked her in and climbed into my own (large, uncluttered, stretch-out-able) bed, thinking I’d better get some good rest while I could because she’d be crawling in at some point. Well, I was wrong! I got up this morning to find her fast asleep right where I’d left her. It was stunningly anticlimactic. I mean, we just went to sleep in separate rooms. But the truth is, this is a big deal. I will miss her, but boy do I like sleeping alone!

2.) I put a chair together yesterday. This also might not sound like a very big deal, but I assure you, it is. The last time I tried to put something together on my own, it was a bookshelf, and I think it was probably ten years ago? I worked so hard on that sonofabitch, and when it was done it looked like…either it was drunk, or it’d been put together by a very drunk person. Which I was not. I don’t think. Although, it was ten years ago, so I guess that’s a possibility. I am pretty sure I cried with frustration. This time, I also almost cried with frustration, and perhaps had one small moment of blind rage where I briefly had the urge to fling the whole f***ing mess against the wall, hopefully shattering something, but…I did not do that. I did learn that an Allen wrench can be used from both ends. I wish I’d figured that out a little sooner. It would have made those bolts going in a whole lot easier. But the important thing is, my new office chair is amazingly comfortable, my back will be happy, and I did it all by myself. I’m sitting in it right now. It’s my new best friend.

*I was going to post a picture of the chair here but I can’t seem to do that, so just imagine a really squishy, comfy, awesome office chair with tons of neck and back support, and one arm that leans out a little more than it probably should. Pretty, isn’t it?

3.) I have heard a lot of talk about “bullet journals” and I just want to ask…what the hell is a bullet journal? I’m afraid to look it up, because I always want everything, and it sounds a lot like a sneaky planner…is that what it is? Because I have sworn off expensive, complicated planners. In 2018 and 2017, I purchased incredibly expensive, elaborate planners, and both of them have NOTHING written in them past February. It’s not like you can just try again the next year with a planner…if you don’t use it, it’s just a totally useless book. I mean, I’m obviously going to look it up anyway, this bullet journal, so…look out, I’ll probably be on the bandwagon by tomorrow. Crap.

Everything else is going swimmingly around here! Hope the same for you!

Posted in anxiety, funny, health, Life, Mental Health, mental illness, People

My Most Expensive Panic Attack Ever

It’s not a big secret that I’m an anxious person- it doesn’t take more than a cursory glance through my many, many posts to see that I’m high strung, and overthink the fuck out of almost every conceivable situation. Although I do love to be funny and witty and make people laugh, I am pretty sure this is yet another defense mechanism to trick people into liking me…not complaining about it, just saying- I’ve overthought even my best attributes. Anyway, be all of that as it may, I tend to be a super high functioning nut job. For the most part, my anxiety is pretty manageable and doesn’t keep me from doing what I need to do.

I mean, until it does. Listen, I am still not 100% clear on where I tipped the scales exactly, yesterday, but…holy shit you guys. Whew. I’m almost hesitant to talk about what happened because it is truly one of my biggest, most over-the-top episodes to date, and, well…I’m just going to say it. I woke up yesterday already feeling panicky and weird, and I’m not sure why. Although looking back now, I can tell you that there has been a lot of unusual stress and drama in my life this past month, and I do tend to wait until things are better to fall apart, so maybe that was the culprit? Anyway, I woke up panicky. I had some coffee (bad idea number one). I scrolled through Facebook (bad idea number 2). I listened to my daughters cat yowling non-stop for the fourth day in a row (she’s in heat). I took a bath. While I was in the bath, the cat came in and started yowling and being weird as hell, and I looked at my right arm, covered in fresh gouges from where she’d attacked me recently…and out of nowhere, I decided she must be rabid. I know, I KNOW how crazy this sounds, but in that moment, as panic took over my body, I was CONVINCED that that fucking cat was rabid and that I was infected.

My body went cold, my stomach dropped, and I started shaking all over. There was always a small voice in my head that said “Dude, come on, the cat is not rabid- she’s in heat.” but it was so small, and my panic was so BIG, I couldn’t listen. I was having a full fledged panic attack. If you have had one, you know- there is no reasoning with a combination of feelings like that. I tried. I tried my really fucking hardest.

Long story short, I found myself, two hours later, in the ER getting the first in a series of rabies vaccines. Let me tell you something: I was under the impression that I would be getting two shots- the rabies immune globulin, and then the vaccine. Guess what? I ended up getting TWELVE shots. 10 in a ring around my wrist, where all the bites and scratches are, and one in each shoulder. The ones around my wrist really hurt. But oddly enough, the pain snapped me back to reality a little, made the panic lessen. This will end up costing upwards of 3 grand, by the way.

Unfortunately, this did not take the fear away completely. For the rest of the day and into the evening, I still half believed I was going to die of rabies. Even after my therapist explained to me that the vaccine kept people from contracting the virus even after being bitten by animals that were confirmed to have had it. You would think that this would have completely put my mind at ease, but my mind had forgotten how to work that way by that point.

I’m going to be real honest here and tell you that, even today, I am not really okay yet. Better, yes. Weepy and weird, also yes. I am sharing this story in hopes that, whatever might be going on with you, it probably isn’t as off the Richter fucking nuts as a grown ass woman subjecting herself to 12 rabies shots because her in-heat cat scared her so badly. No matter how bad your day is going, I would almost bet you are doing better than that. And if you aren’t, you message me, and we can talk about what bullshit it is to have a mind that won’t cooperate reasonably at times.

Because it’s scary…it’s terrifying, really. But you know what? It isn’t like that every day. And if today isn’t good, it still might get better. And tomorrow just might be perfect. Hope you liked this story. Go make sure your pets are vaccinated. Trust me, it’s just better to stay on top of that shit.

PS: Milo, my daughters cat, got her shots yesterday, too. And today she is getting fixed. Freaking cat.

 

Posted in Addiction, advice, funny, health, Life, Musings, People, random

Pain: The Best Motivator

dental pain

Pain has always been a great motivator for me- nothing pushes you into action faster or more seriously than pain does, be it emotional, mental, or, as in my current predicament, PHYSICAL. Tooth pain, to be exact. Boy, I forgot what a nightmare a painful tooth can be. It’s been a long time since I’ve suffered through it, now that I’ve had dental insurance for the past decade. Before that, it was something I went through pretty regularly, unfortunately. A combo of bad genes and drug abuse made sure of that. For the past long time, though, I’ve taken really good care of my teeth- regular cleanings, fillings replaced, I’ve done it all.

All except for one thing. I have this stupid wisdom tooth, you see. It has needed to be pulled for at least a year, but…it wasn’t bothering me, so I ignored it. I have nothing against most dental procedures. I’ve even been known to fall asleep during a root canal. But extractions? Dear sweet baby Jesus, no. You would think, with all the advances in dentistry, that they could come up with something a little less…medieval torture chamber, right? It’s just BRUTAL the way they go about it. So, knowing this, and thinking back to my last wisdom tooth extraction, where, I shit you not, I had a black eye afterwards…I’ve been hesitant to pull the trigger. No pain, no point, right?

Oh my God, so wrong! Why, oh why, did I wait? Last Friday, I’m sitting here, innocently sipping my coffee, when all of the sudden, it feels like a high voltage drill is boring into the pulp of my tooth. There was no warning, no hint that anything had changed. Just sudden, shocking, electrifying pain. My hands are sweating as I write this, as I am now permanently braced for the next jolt. I am SO MAD at myself.

But you know what? It motivated the hell out of me, that’s for sure. I have an appointment to get this sucker yanked this Friday, and I’m actually looking forward to it. Funny how pain can change ones perspective, eh? From fear to excitement? You bet your ass. And guess what else? I will not even be awake for the procedure, either. They are knocking me out and when I wake up, one less tooth for this girl.

In the meantime, it’s a steady diet of Aleve and Listerine mouth wash for me, not to mention little pauses while I try to use Lamaze breathing through the pain. Luckily, it only hurts sometimes, not all the time. At least, not yet. Keep your fingers crossed for me. And never, ever wait to deal with your teeth. I promise you, it just isn’t worth it.

Posted in aging, Blogging, fun, funny, Life, Musings, People, random, women

I’m not 43, but my body is.

 

back pain

I don’t know if anyone ever really feels their age- I have this idea that all of us probably feel mentally younger than however old we are. Unless, of course, the person reading this is, say, 20. When I was 20 I thought I was sooo mature. (I wasn’t, but you couldn’t tell me that because I knew everything- including how it must feel to be mature, apparently). Anyway, my body just keeps on getting older, but sometimes it seems like my brain is getting less and less sure of things with the passage of time. Things I thought I knew for sure when I was younger, I question thoroughly now. Maybe this is a sign of maturity, now that I think about it- reexamining your beliefs and all that.

But, I mean…I spent like an hour howling with laughter over fart prank videos with my daughter the other day. If that gives you any idea at all about how mature I am. Also, on Friday (my daughters 21st birthday) we had a spontaneous dance party where I may have attempted to twerk. “Attempted” being the most important word in that sentence. I still can’t figure out how to do it!  I really don’t know why I need to, anyway, but it would be so satisfying if I just could, even once.

I’m getting off track here, though. The whole purpose of this post is to illustrate to you that my body is aging at a much faster rate than my mind is. Since I have been in my 40’s, I have had more back pain- for NO freaking reason- than I could even catalog for you. Like, just sleeping makes my back hurt. When I sit in one position for too long without moving, when I do try to move, that hurts. Recently, I stretched and tweaked my neck. For the next week, changing lanes while I was driving became a terrifying challenge, as I couldn’t really look behind me.

I don’t know for sure, but I’m pretty confident it was me lifting an unexpectedly heavy cooler full of ice and sodas for my boss on Friday that did it. Or maybe it was the attempted twerking. But I did something bad to my lower back on Friday. Normally, it’s the right lower side that hurts. This time it’s the left, but the right also hurts a little bit. I was kneeling on the floor Saturday morning, cleaning out the linen closet, and when it was time to stand up…I almost couldn’t do it. I literally panicked for a second, like, holy shit, is this really happening? With much groaning and wincing, as my lithe and limber young daughter stood over me, rolling her eyes and calling me dramatic, I was finally able to rise. This has happened, un-witnessed, several other times since then.

It happened this morning because I tried to get out of bed.

I mean, this is just embarrassing. Aging is bullshit. Am I going to have to actually avoid doing certain things because it might hurt?! I refuse. I’m going to lift weights or something, do yoga, whatever- anything I can do to preserve my body so that I can still change my own giant water jugs.

As soon as I can figure out how to get out of this damned chair.

Posted in Addiction, alcoholism, Depression, fitness, funny, inner peace, Life, Musings, People, random, Weight Loss

The tale of my accidental class at the gym

gym

My attitude about working out has morphed over the past few years. For a good long while, I was really consistent at the gym- I’d hired a personal trainer, I went to Body Pump classes (which I LOVED, and I highly recommend to anyone, really), and I even worked out at home when I couldn’t make it to the gym. I actually got really strong- surprisingly so! For a little while, anyway.

The thing is, I was mostly motivated by hatred of my poor body, and the few extra pounds I’d put on once I got clean. Anything motivated by hatred is probably not going to be a stunning success, if you ask me. For whatever reason, my stint at the gym fizzled out, and I pretty much stopped going. After a time of inactivity, I came to the realization that I felt better mentally when I was exercising, and so I went back, to a different gym, and started there- but I had a pretty weak little routine, and I certainly never pushed myself in any way.

Throughout all of this, my eating habits have fluctuated between strictly healthy- like, WAY too strict to be sustainable, and disappointment that it wasn’t working, followed by periods of “fuck-it-all-anyway” when I would just eat whatever, because what even was the point of all this torture?! Throughout all of this, my weight stayed roughly within the same ten pound range, never getting much lower, but never getting much higher, either. No matter what new program or routine I was following. I never stuck with anything long enough for it to work, I guess. I just thought it was funny that I never really gained much in my long off periods, either.

For the past several months, I’ve been on a kind of “this is just who I am, deal with it” kick. I’m tired of hating myself for being chubby. There are worse things. Plus, by moaning and groaning about my body, what am I teaching my young daughter? That my entire self worth is tied up in the circumference of my waist? No, thank you. Confidence in queen, is it not? And I have plenty of things to be proud of- lets talk about those things to this impressionable young lady. So, I have been more careful of the way I speak, and I am trying to model some good things, but…

I really needed to get back to the gym. I hadn’t been once this month, and seriously? I am battling this low-grade depression every single day, and it sucks. One of the things that really helps is exercise. I’ve come to a place where I understand that I am still within a “normal” weight range, and that my perception of myself isn’t necessarily the truth. I’ve gotten to a point where I just want to be healthy- mentally and physically- and the hardest part is just making myself do the work. So, yesterday, I decided that I would go back to the gym.

By the time I got off work, I really just wanted to lay down and take a nap. That’s how I feel every day when I get off work, to be honest. But, with all the upheaval in my home lately- my older daughter moving back, and all the new pets, and all the new chaos, I knew I had to take care of myself if I wanted to remain sane. So, despite my longing not to, I went to the gym. I got there, and started digging around in my purse for my phone. Guess what? No phone. I’d left my mother-loving phone at home. This has happened maybe twice in my entire life- that thing is like a part of my goddamned arm, for Pete’s sake! And how was I supposed to do ANYTHING without music to listen to?!

I sat there for a good long moment, in my car, staring vacantly at my daughter in the backseat, trying to figure out if it was just not meant to be, and if I should go home. BUT. There was a class starting in ten minutes that I had been thinking about taking for, I don’t know, like a year now? I mean…what’d I have to lose?

You know what I had to lose? Control of my legs, that’s what. I took the class. I made it through the whole stupid thing. Fifteen minutes in, there was a short break and I used it to run to the front counter to desperately purchase a bottle of water. I barely made it through the gym. My thighs were locking up and shaking so badly that I had to be very, very careful. But you know what? I went back! I went back, and I did the kettle-bell squats and the jumping jacks and the goddamned fifteen minute (maybe one minute) planks, and I finished that sucker. I did it. I got dizzy, nearly fainted, made terrible noises, almost barfed, poured sweat and did some of it with very little movement. But I finished it.

I cannot feel my legs today. I will have to trust fall onto the toilet for probably the rest of the week. It’s so bad that it doesn’t even hurt yet, it’s just…numb. But the truth is, it felt really good to push myself for once. I may have gotten in a little over my head yesterday, but I needed to do it, and I didn’t even know it. I’m still proud of myself this morning. I might feel differently tomorrow, but…I can’t wait to do it again!

Posted in fun, funny, humor, Life, Musings, People, women

The Hormone Weasels Have Come to Roost.

pms

I don’t have much to offer beyond that title, there…just a brief note to let you all know that, much like every other month of my life, my body has been taken over by high levels of the unfriendly variety of hormones. I should probably know more about what they are, but to be honest, women’s bodies are incredibly complicated and difficult-even for women- and even though I’ve read all about all of the particulars of what we grossly call the “menstrual cycle” (admit it, that is such a gross word), I can’t retain that kind of information. It just flows in one ear and out the other. Pun intended.

Anyway, generally I know what is coming down the pike for me because I wake up just really unusually angry. Even if I don’t know that I am angry, maybe Camryn can’t find her shoes in the morning, or maybe the dog looks at me wrong, and all of the sudden I am just furious. Stupid little things really set me off. That’s my first clue. After that, well…for instance, my boss said something jokingly to me at work today, something I would normally have laughed at. Today, I seriously considered quitting my job. I literally stopped, dead still, and thought “I’m walking out.” That was my second clue. Later on, I started crying over a loving family scene while watching a rerun of 90210- the WORST show ever in the history of ever (I don’t know why I’m watching it , it makes no sense at all) and I was about to breakdown because Brenda and her family shared a hug. Or maybe it was David Silver and his grandparents. Either way, give me a break. Finally, I was just sitting here, minding my own business, when out of the blue I became very, very upset by how fat and ugly I felt.

I’m pretty sure I’m no fatter or uglier than I was this morning, but it’s this awful feeling…unless you have ovaries, I just don’t know how to describe this sudden gloom of body dysphoria that descends from nowhere. But it’s a SURE indicator of trouble on the hormonal horizon.

I’m going to go take a bath, wash my hideous face, and hide my bloated body beneath a sea of bubbles and essential oils, taking solace in the fact that this will all be over soon. Of course, what comes next is no picnic either, but…this is not the blog to speak of such things.

Have a lovely night. I’m going to rustle up a salty chocolate snack of some sort before submersion.

Posted in Blogging, Dreams, funny, humor, kids, Life, motherhood, Musings

8 Solid Hours (is that too much to ask?)

no sleep

I just looked at my watch- it is now 3:45 a.m., and I have been up for fifteen minutes. I finally waved the white flag of surrender, after fighting with sleep ALLLLL night last night. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I value sleep above almost everything else, and normally, sleep and I have a really happy relationship. But every relationship has ups and downs, and last night we were really duking it out.

Here is how my night went:

8:30- I start making noise about getting ready for bed. But we are watching an unusually interesting show on Disney XD, so I am dragging my feet. I get my coffee set up for the morning. I decide against washing my face, since I didn’t wear makeup anyway yesterday, even though I know better (this, more than anything else, is a clear indicator that my happiness levels are dangerously low- I know it sounds insignificant, but washing my face at night is a big deal, and this is a red flag. Must get my life together.)

8:45- On commercial, I let Cam do one sparkler, of the many we have left over from the 4th. While we are outside, someone nearby sets off an illegal firework. I literally yell “The fourth is over, asshole!” into the night air. Realize I am outside playing with sparklers. Feel stupid, but I am so, so tired.

9:00-Make my bed. Crawl into the sanctuary of my covers. Try to stream Phineas and Ferb, one of my top shows to fall asleep to, only to find that season four is no longer available on demand. What the fuck? Find that season three is still ready to roll, so I find one I haven’t seen (not that it matters, because I’ll be asleep in five minutes anyway) and quickly doze off.

9:10- my cat starts scratching on my door. I try to ignore him, but he won’t stop. I yell at the door. He adds meowing to the mix. I huffily throw the covers off of me and jump out of bed, yank the door open and stomp into the living room, opening the front door so he can go out for the night. He stands on the threshold, considering his options. “Get out.” I snarl- I don’t have the patience for this shit. He doesn’t want to go out now. I close the door. He starts crying and scratching again. I open the door and try to set him outside. He runs backwards into the house and glares at me. I glare back. Fine. I’ll just sleep with my bedroom door open so he doesn’t get trapped inside and have an “accident” like he did the other night, but he doesn’t get trapped outside, either, and decide to scratch at my door all night. Fine. That is fine. Just let me sleep.

9:25- my dog, Lucy, wakes me up this time- She is barking like crazy, with a much scarier than normal bark, out into the hallway. This is, like, there’s an intruder, or a wild animal loose in the house kind of bark. I am instantly awake and out of bed. “What?!” I ask her, “What’s in there?” But she just does that weird dog dance, and keeps barking, then runs into my daughter’s room. Luckily, my daughter is in my room with me (or at least it seemed lucky at that moment) because I am terrified to go in there. I sneak my arm in and turn on the light- there is nothing there. I check the backyard, the front yard, and everywhere else. There is nothing there. I go back to bed, but this time I close and lock my bedroom door. The cat can just deal with it.

10:00-Lucy wakes me up barking furiously again. I don’t care anymore if someone is in the house. They can just kill me. I’m going to sleep, period.

10:30- I hear the distinct rustling of the giant cat food bag in my room. I just know Lucy is getting into the goddamned cat food again. I wake up already yelling at her to knock it off. Instead, I find that it is my seven year old, who has decided she would be more comfortable sleeping in the dogs bed, and she is whacking the cat food bag with her leg. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“I just want to lay down here.” She says, “I can hear my videos better.” I look at the dog, laying forlornly on the floor next to her own bed.

“Get your ass in bed, and don’t wake me up again.” I say kindly. I’m back asleep before I remember to tell her to put her stupid Kindle away. My mistake.

1 fucking 30 in the goddamned morning: I am jolted awake by the sound of laughter in my pitch black room. I whirl around, trying to get my bearings, and find my child, pressing her Kindle face down into the mattress so that I can’t see the light coming from it. I can still hear the sound however. She does this in such a smooth, skilled manner that I can’t help but wonder how many times she has practiced this maneuver in the past. The voice of Satan seems to issue forth from my throat-“Give me the Kindle!” I fling it to the floor (only because it has a child proof case, and I know it will simply bounce- I’m mad, but I’m not an idiot) and tell her she must immediately vacate the premises and go sleep in her own bed. I can’t take it. We both know I don’t mean it though- there is possibly an intruder sleeping in there, anyway, or at the very least, a family of raccoons. She starts crying, which means I’ll NEVER get to sleep…so I turn the TV back on. But I make sure it’s  a show she hates, because I’m evil when I’m tired. I fall asleep to the sound of my child wailing at the injustice of it all.

1:45-3:30- Horrible dreams about owing people money, awkward confrontations with friends, trying to pee in a bathroom with a big hole in the door and people trying to get in (which, now that I think about it, that probably worked in my favor- the last thing I needed last night was to wet my own bed at the age of 43), having to look for a job and regretting quitting the one I had, and just generally feeling very stressed out and uprooted. These are what I call “worst case scenario dreams”, and I have them fairly often. It’s always nighttime in these dreams.

3:30-Finally throw the towel in. Realize that a bug of some sort bit me several times, on my fingers and my arm. Curse my life, and all of the cowardly bugs who refuse to bite you when you are awake and can defend yourself.

3:45: Decide I should at least write about it, and make it all worth something. I hope you enjoyed my (hopefully) amusing retelling of my night from hell. And for God’s sake, I hope you slept better than I did! At least I won’t be fully awake for work today. There’s always a silver lining!