The Ex Factor Part Dos...

My new and improved husband has told me that his ex wife was slightly evil. I sorta blew that off as "Ex Anger". Turns out, there is some truth in what he tells me. This weekend my fabulous step children told their daddy that their mommy told them that *I* was evil...to not take anything I tried to give them...because I would try to poison them. That since Carson is on medication, they need to "watch out--she'll try to give YOU his pills..." Can you believe that?

When he* told me this, I was LIVID! I wanted to scratch her eyes out. Then I realized. SHE is the one poisoning them. Children are NOT stupid. They know that I love them DEARLY. That I would NEVER do anything to hurt them. And two of them already know she is..."off". All of her "stunts" only highlight the truth. But she is scary too--and the kids are scared of her. Sad, huh?

I'm sad for the kids. Heck, I'm even sad for HER--how messed up, jealous and sexually deprived do you have to be to say those things to your 12, 10, 9 and 5 year old children!?? Does she think she will drive a wedge between him* and I? Because this behaviour only makes him ask me to marry him all over again... And we do get several good laughs out of her paranoia.

So, I'm still praying for her--tho it was hard the night I found out she had told the kids I was an "evil woman who wants to poison them". But I will continue to pray she gets help. That her rotten mind and decayed heart are healed. And that she gets a good dose of male delivered orgasms. I think she will really feel better then. May help her disposition.

Show Me The Money...AKA Cutting Off The Internet Due To Lack Of Funds...

Yep. It has come to this. I know I am not the only person is the US of A having a hard time financially. I know how blessed I really am. I have a house (until the 1st--when I have no rent $$). I have my physical health (we aren't talking about my mental health today). I have the love of him* and of Him. My kids are beautiful, healthy and smart.

But money *does* sorta make the world go 'round, doesn't it? It would make my car go too--my gas light is coming on. Even at $1.84 per gallon I'm having a hard time. The other day I went to see my shrink for meds. Luckily, I qualified for a little financial assistance. I only had to buy ONE prescription that day--and it was on the $4.00 Wal-Mart list of prescription drugs. But I literally had to lift the floor mats of my car to come up with enough change to make $4.00.

My 3 year old isn't potty trained yet. I don't want to think about WHY he isn't (but it would go something like this: The divorce is the reason. He's rebelling. Or he's a TURKEY--stubborn...surely not *my* fault). I decided this week to potty train him and the main reason is because I don't have the money for pull-ups or diapers. Sad, huh?

So, we've decided that until we get me employed and we get caught up on any delinquent (baha) bills...we're shutting down cable/Internet. We mainly read to each other or watch dvds anyway. Tho the kids will miss TV the most. We let them lay on the pull out couch and watch Discovery TV (Man vs Wild with Bear Grylls) every weekend.

So, this may be my last post for awhile--at least until I find where all the free wifi around town is...

The Ex Factor...

I was married for 19 years to my ex husband. The divorce itself wasn't "nice", but we do get along now. He pays me my equity check on time. I watch the kids extra for him several times per month. I call him if Caden shows progress at potty training. I call him on "report card" day to give him the low down... we get along.

My husbands (Sweets) ex, on the other hand... well, she's not so nice. It infuriates her to see me. Even worse if their kids are around and pay *me* attention. Take basketball practice for example:

Sweets is coaching basketball for his oldest son this year and signed the 2 girls up for basketball also. I went to practice Tuesday--and while Sweets was on the court with J*... The girls came and sat by me, played with me, all while "the MOTHER" watched. Today she called and told Sweets "You know, if you just gave me full custody you wouldn't even have to pay child support"... She got the response most Fathers would give...which was specific directions to a very warm climate.

She is a very bitter, angry person. And honestly, I believe she is jealous. Jealous that he has moved on and found happiness. AND that her children like me. I prayed for her yesterday. Prayed that God would thaw out her frozen heart. That he would allow her to find some tiny bit of happiness--somewhere. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to pray for her more than once. Sigh...

Got any advice? I need to stay calm. Because I've dreamed of meeting her in a dark alley...don't think that's the way to go.

Can I Just Say...?

Thank you for loving me. All the time. Even when it's the wee hours of the morning...and you really don't want to, but you know I will pout all day if you don't. So you do it anyway. I promise to do it for you someday--later today if ya want...

A Trip And A Stumble Down Memory Lane...

Remember my divorce a few months back? Ahhh, yes. A lovely time in my life. Well, it also was the "day I lost insurance"...

Some of you know, because you KNOW me. Some of you know because you read between the crooked-as-hell lines. And some of you don't know: that I am Bipolar. BOO! Scare ya? Anyways. I'm on several medications that keep me from killing myself and sometimes from killing others (sometimes). One of those medications cost $347 per month with no insurance. Yeah. That's just one of them. I can't financially afford to be sane. I keep waiting for the check to come down from B. Obama. I mean, I am the poor... but alas, my mailbox only contains bills.

So, yesterday I went and visited my old crazy friends down at the local NUT HUT (where I spent some quality time back in 2005). I had to apply for ASSistance from the good ole government. Boy, was I proud. I get a lump in my throat the size of Texas just thinking about it. It took me 2 hours to fill out paperwork, sign my 9th kid away and convince them I was not in danger of going manic OR depressive...at the moment.

I got a 30 minute lecture on how important it would be to go to ALL my appointments. Take ALL my meds. Be able to pass a RANDOM drug test at any moment. I had to swear I wasn't wanted by the law. That I was really a "good" girl. I was so ashamed. I have gone to ALL my psychiatrist appointments in the past. I am not the most compliant on my meds--but that is usually because I can't afford them. I haven't ingested any illegal drugs since a few vicodin in 2005. And I have NEVER been arrested. Geez. I felt like a skid row Bitch. I am a good girl, I'm just crazy. But in a GOOD way. hee hee.

While sitting in the waiting room I met a young lady (I say young only because she was younger than me--or maybe she wasn't, I dunno) who was looking for a new doctor. Hers had choked to death on a piece of meat at a Pharmaceutical Convention. Is that not both the saddest and freaky thing you ever heard?? I mean, I'm sure there was SOMEONE who knew the Heimlich Maneuver...surely? I just can't stop thinking about this one... wow. Surely there were DOCTORS there?? Someone trained in CPR? Anybody? Whew. Wow. Can't seem to let this one go.

Anywhoo. I am now on the government dole. Today I get to go back to the NUT HUT and see my doctor. Listen to him grip about the fact that I haven't had my blood work done. Which is funny considering I don't like to get it done because of needles. Yet I used to donate plasma twice a week and the needle for that is the size of a McDonalds straw. But I got PAID for that, people!! Too bad you can't be on "crazy" meds and donate plasma. That was $200 per month to lay there and read a book.

So, sitting down at "the Center" was like walking back into time. People were behind the glass for their safety. People were screaming because they were only 45 minutes late--"Whaddya mean I canna see ma ducker?!!" People were hiding in the waiting room behind cell phones, magazines and their cabbage patch dolls. It was good ole fun.

If anyone gets their check from the President Elect...let me know, I need it.

Pardon The Interruption...

I live in East Texas. I'm a girl. Or female. I have blonde hair. It is longish--and tho not my natural hair color--it USED to be, until I started popping out kids.

So...this is to tell you: I'm not really a sports fan. My ex was a HUGE Cowboys fan. I knew when they played. But that's about it. I ate a hamburger within "personal space" with Tom Landry back in 1989ish. But that's it. I went to EVERY basketball game that my High School played. Both Home and Away games. But only because my Uncle, who hung the moon and raised me, was a huge High School fan. That and the players were all cute.

But, *this* husband. He likes sports waaay more than he led on while dating. There is always a game on. Football. Basketball. or Sports related shows. Pardon The Interruption. On ESPN. Not so bad. The guys are funny. I try to watch. I do.

But the show is indeed interrupting. My love life. When your man comes home--and you are smelling good. Hair is beautiful as it gets, legs shaved smooth...and you're braless and wearing cute pj's AND there are NO CHILDREN in the house... NOT a good idea to plop down and turn on PTI. And don't suggest TiVo. We got it.

So, Tony from PTI...you aren't the foreplay I was looking for...tho you are FUNNY as all get out.

Dead, Naked Chickens...

I have a son who causes me more joy than one person should be allowed to enjoy. He is my most loving, sweet child...and yet he is my child who causes hairs to go kinky and gray.

Yesterday I made a grave error in planning and plotting my day. This became evident when I realized AFTER picking up the kids from school...I had to run by the store (eerie, horror movie music should be envisioned here). This is most certainly NOT a good idea. Not with my kids. After school. When they are tired, hungry and in need of SpongeBob!

I needed some chicken. I had everything at home I needed for dinner--but the chicken. After we enter the store and I throw one child into the buggy and screech that the others should "hold ONTO the buggy", some stoopid clerk gets on the loudspeaker "Attention Shoppers. Santa Claus has just entered the store! Come on by the Photography Lab and have your picture taken with Santa!" It was a conspiracy against me. We drove fast and furiously AWAY from the photo lab. With promises of M&M's when we leave.

Once we are at the meat counter, I'm checking out the boneless, skinless variety. The all breast area. I'm a "boob" girl myself. But Carson has wandered (yep, he took his hands off that buggy!!) down a little further. He's admiring the WHOLE chickens. And then he yells out for all to hear: "Momma!! You have GOT to come here!! These chickens are DEAD! AND NAKED!!"

I am most certain that the entire meat department went home and told this story. How do I know?? I left them laying on the floor, legs in the air...holding their sides, laughing their butts off. I hope they all had dead, naked chicken for dinner too.

PS: Carson ate Frosted Flakes...he doesn't like chicken, unless it's in 'nugget' form.

Morning Madness...

I am allergic to morning. I need a good 30-45 minutes to myself to convince myself "It's a beautiful morning..." That doesn't always happen. And people who hop out of bed smiling and laughing and talking? They are evil.

My children are allergic to morning also. They are grumpy. They find fault with breakfast. Even if it's their beloved pancakes. They hate the clothes I laid out for them. This one needs their clothes 'fresh and warm' from the dryer. This one needs "SpongeBob" underwear. This one ALWAYS wants a PINK shirt. That one has 'sock' issues. If the seam on the toes isn't juuuuuuust right--disaster. No one wants to brush their teeth. Or take their meds. Comb their hair.

But give us 30 minutes. We all come together. Our eyes clear. Or voices soften.

Until then? Leave me alone.

PS: That new guy that gave me his last name? He is allergic to morning too. But I think he needs medication. ;)

Confession Of A Murderess...

I'm pretty sure I'm a murderer. I'm almost certain of it. Today, the love of my life went to work really early, like he normally does. I got up at 7AM, got dressed and went to the grocery store--to buy food--being as we had NONE.

I hurried so I could beat *him* home--I knew he was coming back by the house for coffee and breakfast. I fed him well and sent him on his way. Then I snuck out of the house and away from my wifely chores to hang out with a girl friend all day.

I got home just in time to clean this, clean that, fold this and put that away. Then I remembered: I hadn't fed or watered the parrots today. Or uncovered them.

Yeah. Apparently they didn't appreciate my neglect. They are dead. And it's all my fault. I felt so sick to my stomach (still do). I covered them back up IMMEDIATELY. As soon as I saw them laying on the floor of their cage. And I don't want to be near them. *He* won't be here for another hour or so. I had to tell him over the phone. I don't like giving him bad news.

Yesterday we had such a good day. He was off. I was off (still jobless). We had no children to listen to, entertain... we concentrated on each other. And now...today.
I sure know how to ruin a mood huh? I feel a beer in my future--but I'm trapped in my bedroom--held hostage by the dead bodies of George and Mandy.

Hopefully they are screeching their heads off in parrot heaven. With toys to play with, Cheetos to nibble and a few sips of stolen wine. And I hope *he* doesn't hold me too responsible. It wasn't like it was premeditated. Tho, I did threaten Mandy with a nice BBQing a few times when she tied to bite me. I guess I won't be getting that orange kitten I asked for, for Christmas... sigh.

I Need To Ask For A Freakin' "Parenting Raise"...

Today I attempted to parent 7 kids...well, 8. But the 8th one slept all day, so she doesn't count.

I drive a Toyota Camry. Yeah, they seat FIVE. So... until we buy that short bus and paint "Honk If You Love Jesus" all over it--I have them all to myself, in my 3 bedroom crap box, on Saturdays.

One of my new step children has diabetes. Like "give yourself a shot of insulin" diabetes. Yeah. Like, this is serious stuff. I didn't take that class. So, I made specific (or so I thought) requests that he come to my house with EVERYTHING he needed. Oh, wait...did you see that pretty butterfly float by? What was I saying? Forget half his stuff? Okay. No problem...

And THEN to top it off... When he actually *NEEDED* his "stuff"? I broke all protocols and procedures in who to call--who NOT to call... who to talk to, who NOT to talk to... So, basically I feel assless at the moment. Chewed out by 2 men in my life whom I thought...well, who I respect. Now I just feel: clueless AND assless. Incompetent. I'm sure CPS will be called any moment.

I can GUARANTEE you this: I will have EVERYTHING he needs, plus alcohol (for me) before the next visit. And I will call NO ONE--except 911 when he falls into a coma.

And I am demanding a raise. This shit ain't worth all the ass chewing...

He Likes Me, He Likes Me, He Really, Really Likes Me...

Last night my phone rang. I opened it before looking to see who it was.

Me: Hello?

Him: Hello?

Me: ummm, hello?

Him: Is this Martie S*?

Me: Why, yes, yes it is! Is this Jimmy S*? (my 12 year old stepson)

We laugh and then he tells me that his 6 baby rabbits died. We talked about how rabbits can have babies really quick--and that next time we will bring momma and babies inside out of the cold (they froze to death). Then we get ready to hang up...

Me: well, Ok. I guess I'll see you on Friday when your Dad brings you over...OK? I love you.

Him: OK! I love you too!!


Sniff. Sniff. Does it get much better? I mean MY kids sorta *have* to love me... I gave birth to em and all. THESE kids CHOSE to love me. They chose to love ME! ME! wow. And boy! Boy, do I have them fooled... hee hee.

Virgin Voter...

Ok, time to come clean. I registered to vote in 2002. That's right. I was 34. I only did it because all it took was a check mark on a drivers liscense renewal slip.

Pardon the interruption... I glanced over at the television and threw up a tiny bit in my mouth. I really hoped I would have my TV back this morning...

I did NOT vote in the 2004 election. I didn't really care one iota regarding politics. I had 3 kids and was pregnate with #4. My husband at the time had NO political interest either.

THIS was my first presidential election to participate in. I never stood on a soap box. I didn't go door to door with political tracts or even steal signs from my neighbors yard... I didn't blog my beliefs here or talk about them in line at the grocery store. But I picked a guy. Based on what *I* thought. And I really wanted to see what he could do.

Oh well. Guess I'll just wait and see what THIS guy does. But if every single time he speaks I have to hear his voice echo 'god' like--I will hurl.

Proof That Anyone Could Die Any Day...

A few weeks ago I ran into a former coworker while pumping gas. I hadn't seen him in about 9 months or so. We hugged. We talked. He begged me to come back to work at the doctor's office we worked at together in 2004-2005.

Yesterday I applied at ANOTHER doctor's office and gave them my former employer as reference. They asked me if I had heard the news....

"S" had died. Just days after I had met him at the gas station. I was shocked. My eyes filled with tears. How? What? Why?

I called my former employer to find out what had happened and to let them know I was thinking of the office as a whole. This would be a huge blow to them. He had worked there longer than anyone. He was the only male in the office other than the 5 doctors. He was a father figure to many and friend to others.

That was when I found out that he had died as a result of a self inflicted gunshot.

Wow. I really don't know what to say. I'll miss you "S". Alot of people will. Bless your troubled soul. May you rest in peace.

There's A Long Way To Go And A Short Time To Get There...

Smokey and the Bandit. Remember that one?

Yesterday Carson (6) said to me: Mom. Mom! Don't forget to vote tomorrow.

Me: Baby, I already voted. I voted before J and I got married.

Carson: Who did you vote for? Well? Who??!! I *need* to know!!

Me: Carson. When you vote it's private. I don't have to tell anyone.

Carson: But I have to wait until I'm 18--and I need to know NOW what team I need to be wanting to win...


Another Carsonism...

Carson: Mom, look at this. A little moth on my hand. Can I keep it for a pet?

Martie: Carson, it will die soon.

Carson: Why? I'm careful. Is it because a moth is just a tired, old, faded butterfly?

Martie: Something like that...


Claudia turned 8 on November 1st. Can't believe they are growing so fast.

The Honeymoon In Pictures (Part II)...

PS: Beale St. in Memphis, TN was awesome. Silky O'Sullivans. The Flying Saucer. Coyote Ugly Saloon. BB King Bar. And so many more... Good BBQ. Good beer. Good hot wings. Good music. Good laughs. sigh. Can't wait to go back!!

The Honeymoon In Pictures (Part I)...

PS: Are you sensing a theme here? But I promise there was no over indulging but we did vote twice at the Flying Saucer...

The Wedding In Pictures...

PS: Imagine I look 20lbs lighter--that's what I do.

Walking In Memphis...

Tonight my groom and I will stay at the Peabody in Memphis. Our last night of honeymooning before heading home to our trailer park box. Our new house won't be ready for another few weeks.

We've had a blast the last few days. Met some of his family here in Tennessee. Met people he went to high school with... kids he grew up with on his street. Walked thru the woods looking for a lake that no longer exists. And it was sweet. I loved every second of it.

Went to an out of the way, tiny winery. Drank every wine they make--and bought 6 bottles to take home--and a souvenir for my sister...hee hee.

So, tonight is the finale. But don't worry, we'll go out with a bang.

..."these are the best days of my life..."

I Had Me Some Testicles Today...

This post was actually penned a week ago--but I had a humongous brain fart and lost my ability to log ont this blog thingy. But here it is now:

Today I grew huge testicles. And then I "manned up", took care of business and then, I'll admit it...I fondled them a little before giving them back.

I quit my job today. I did. I went in there and resigned, effective immediately. Well, I hugged a few kids, told them I loved them, cried a few tears AND then quit. I also hugged a Mom and whispered in her ear "I just quit". Her response? "Oh shit!"

It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. I'll miss those kids. I'll miss 73% of the people I worked with. The others? They can kiss my smooth, soft ass. I've got another job. Well, sorta. I've been told the job is mine. I just have to go down, apply and pass the background check. It's really a sucky job. But they have insurance. And it works for me hour wise and child care wise. Plus...no kids. Heck, really not many adults either. Alot of "alone with my MP3 player" time. No phones. So, it works for now.

Last Friday I ran into a guy who works at the opthamologists office that I used to work for. He was thrilled to see me and literally begged me to go back to work there. That made me think "I AM worth *something*". I'm not a bragger, but every job Ive ever had, when I left I was told "You are always welcome back". I work hard. So, it was all the incentive I needed to quit. So I did. And within hours I had a new job--without even trying. When these things (quitting/losing your job) happen... you find out who your friends are. I have friends. Good ones.

If something good happens to you--pay it forward. Life is all about Karma. I've been watching all the "My Name Is Earl" episodes (never watched it before last week)...Earl Hickey is on to something. Good things happen to good people. So, don't forget the guy next to you. All he may need is a kind word or a gentle smile.

PS: Someone I know went to court today. Subpoenaed. It all ended well. No perjury was committed (deeeep sigh...small chuckle).

Feel Free To Jump Off A Bridge...

This is MY blog. You are free to come here, read it. Giggle with me or AT ME.

You are free to comment. If you say anything I don't like I get to delete it. If *I* say anything YOU don't like: Don't come back. Orrrrrrr, feel free to jump off a bridge. Choices. Make one.

His Stalker...

So. My ex husband.

I just found out a few weeks ago that he is dating our 7 year old daughters best friends MOTHER. While she was married, living with and hadn't told...her husband. She may be an angel. I mean, after all, per the EX she has never smoked, drank or cussed. Never mind that she was having an affair (IS, IS having an affair) with someone 20 years older than she is. Poor girl.

Anyways, The EX calls me the other day...

EX: "I'm being videoed."

Me: "Wha???" I thought he might have been referring to a sex tape or something...

EX: "Her husbands SISTER is following me all over town, taping me."

Me: "How do ya know for sure?"

EX: "Because 2 different strangers at 2 different places came up to me and told me there was some woman crouched down behind the building and she had a camera."

Me: "Then, yeah. You are being videoed. Make sure your fly is up and you don't have anything stuck in your teeth. Wave! You'll look friendlier that way."

EX: "We have a call into her attorney (The same one he had in OUR divorce). We're getting a restraining order."

Me: "Good to know. Sounds scary for you."

This could get messy. Think of all the future episodes I could relate to you. This is gonna be sorta fun. In a sick demented way. Hahahahahaha!

On The Mend Of The Mind...

Ok, I am so tired. So this will ramble and make no sense to anyone, unless they have a brain deficiency, sorta like mine.

I didn't go to sleep yesterday. It was 1AM this morning. This was partly my fault. But I can't tell you how and keep my PG13 rating. I only got about 4 hours sleep. Because of the auditory hallucinations (buzzzzz, buzzzz, buzzzzzzzz) and the 17 yr old who came home at 3AM--I forgot to leave the storm door unlocked.

Today was evil at work. I had 14 three year olds on some sort of speed. One who had "bathroom" issues...and had corn for dinner last night. Please tell me you don't need more info. My boss, who pretends to be a bible quoting Christian... isn't so much of a Christian. Go figure.

Needless to say, without saying it all, that I will be job hunting as soon as I get home from the honeymoon. A job with insurance benefits would be best. Hell, WalMart almost looks good. And I heard FedEx was looking for delivery drivers. I look good in navy shorts. But I'll probably look into one of the local Health care Monstrosities. In either a clinic or hospital. I have patient services experience (check in/out, insurance verification, medical billing, medical records and scheduling). And the insurance package is the shizzle--I know, since "the ex" works for this hospital also...but as a respiratory therapist/nurse irritant. And I lose my benefits next Saturday. The minute I marry Sweets--no insurance for me. And Sweets doesn't have insurance either. He does have health care--he gets his health taken care of--he just has to pay full price for it!

My meds are working. I do not hear fluorescent lights going out... or people opening the storm door. I have all my clothes on. Right side out. I had bfast and lunch today. I'm talking at my normal 200 mph now. I still feel really hot. Not "nipple tweaking" hot... but "I am about to burst into flames and burn up" hot.

I have a dress to wear to my wedding, shoes, a cake, flowers (picked out) and when Sweets finds someone who has "the power vested" in them--we can REALLY get married. Because if he can't find a minister/pastor or justice of the peace to drive out to the sticks--our ceremony will be performed by white ducks who reside on the pond or my 7 year old daughter...who is a smarty pants.

Monday we will pick up the marriage license. Hope I don't have to show that I can perform wifely duties while parallel parking. We picked up his wedding band a few nights ago. Is a size 11 finger big? It's too big for my thumb. I haven't tried it on my big toe--yet. It just seems big to me. I mean, it fits his finger--but ELEVEN? Oh well. He's 6'1" (or 2)--maybe that's normal. Normal? Do *I* want normal? Nah.

OK, just read this and I'm still a little "off" sounding--more so than usual for me. So, before I tell you things that will make *you* blush and *me* ready to beat the latest record...

G'night. Sweets will be home soon. Kids are in bed, near sleep. And I hear a glass of wine calling my name.

Manic/Depressive Imbecile...

Why does it never seep into my brain that STRESS + no sleep + not eating right + maybe running out of a med or two will = manic/depressive episodes?

I have meds. I'm going to bed AND to sleep at a decent hour (as in 'before tomorrow'). I will eat lunch AND dinner tonight. I will...relax.

So...

Tomorrow you will be returned to your regularly scheduled program. Without the mania. The hot flashes. The 500 mph speech patterns and without the tears. AND I will be properly and thoroughly dressed.

Wedding Stress?...

I will marry soon. Very soon. Like, less than 2 weeks soon. I haven't a dress yet (really not worried), my sister's handling the cake. Duncan Hines would've been fine with me. Am I really stressed? Nahhhh. I'm 40 years old. And I have only now, literally met the man of my dreams. And probably the man of a few others dreams too (sorry chica...)!

But I am also a realist. As perfect as he is for me--there are flaws too. Flaws I see. Flaws that only he has--flaws that he shares with his species (why can't men put paper on the roll?). Flaws that I don't see now, but I'm sure I will later. And you know what? They only make me love him more. Because they make him HIM. And I love him. Warts and all. I love the silly accents he uses while reading to me--or to the kids. Whether he's reading the Bible to me or Hank The Cow Dog to them. Or The Hobbit to his kids. I love how silly he looks when he first wakes up--like a lost boy. I love that he is smart. That he texts song lyrics to me--obscure ones...ones only we seem to get. I love that he is a procrastinator. That he forgets where he left his checkbook. That he doesn't watch much TV. That he forgets to clean the bird cage--after he told me he would (If he reads this he knows this is *my* sweet way of saying that I would love it MORE if he would DO IT!).I love that he is political (even tho I am not). I love that his ideas don't always match mine--and that his way isn't always "right" and mine isn't "wrong". I love that he doesn't mind if there is laundry on the couch. The chair. The dresser. The bed. That we move the pile from one spot to the next until that pile is gone and a new one takes its place. I love that he brings me flowers--for no other reason than that he thinks I'm having a bad day. I love the way his hands look on me. The way he looks at me--and just...*looks* at me. I love the way he makes me know--that even if things are going to be bad--they are going to be OK.

So, the thought of marrying him doesn't stress me. The opposite. He is my rock. My one constant. Nothing feels...*righter* than marrying him. Sometimes I only wish I had met him sooner--but then we wouldn't have been right for each other. We had travels to go. Players to meet. Ways to grow and lessons to learn. NOW is our time. And everything up until now was only to get me ready for this. Practice. To see how to play this part--and the way to do it? Don't play. I get to be ME this time. And I get loved for it. Because I know that he loves me--and all my flaws too.

I can't wait to be his forever--actually, I already am.

So, no worrying about me (those who are). Be happy for me. Be sick of me telling you how wonderful he is--I promise, he's a man--he has dirty underwear in the floor...he has yucky "man" habits. He snores. He hogs the bed. The covers. Leaves hair in the sink. The lid off the toothpaste. The air set on 70* when he leaves the house. He gets "moody" and hurts my feelings. He eats all the bacon. He isn't perfect. But he's perfect for ME. And he loves ME. And for the first time in my life-- I love someone for WHO they are--the whole person. Not for who I think they will BE.

We will marry at his parents house. On their property, near the pond...a morning wedding. All 8 kids in the wedding. Our only attendants are the kids. They want it that way and so do we. Small wedding. And a quick get away--a trip to Memphis/Nashville. I wish you all could come.

This is the beginning of 'happily ever after'...

PS: He looks out for me too. He knows how important it is that I take my meds. He knows all about *that* ugly part of me. Remember, he even educated himself on it... He wants me healthy and happy too. He LOVES me. He makes me feel like I matter to him. Never had that before. He TELLS me that I matter to him. He shows me. Who could ask for more than that?

Calie, My First Baby...

Now she is all grown up. All 100 pounds of her. Can NOT believe she is a senior this year. We literally grew up together--and we still are (growing up together). I made this!! And it amazes me...

My Very Own Bed In...

A few days ago, one of my favorite bloggers, Black Hockey Jesus, wrote about he and his wife staying home, in bed all day, "pantless". BHJ is on my blogroll, over *there* >>>>>> The name of his blog is The Wind In Your Vagina.

Since I've had a monster headache for 5 days--I picked Friday for my "bed in". I got me some Imitrex, Vicodin and beer. I covered the damn parrots and pulled the sofa bed out. Piled the bed with every pillow in the house, turned on the TV, popped pills, swigged beer. And slept for 3 hours. Still have the headache--but its small. Managable. And I found a gem. Today BHJ reviewed a book. By Andrea Askowitz. The name of the book? My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy.

Go buy it. And buy me one too. I am overdrawn again.

Day 4. I Can't Take Much More...

Head still aching. Throbbing. Pulsating. Making my jaw tight. My eyes hurt. I want to climb in a dark, cold closet. With several vicodin and several alcoholic beverages. Except I feel a little sick to my stomache too.

I need to clean my house. I need to do laundry. I need to mow my yard. Clean the parrots cage--THEY don't even want to be in there anymore. I neeeeed to play with my kids. My real kids...not those brats I *teach* every day. THEY are getting on my lassssst nerve. I had 13 Tuesday by myself. This morning I had 15 by myself. I told the front desk that if I didn't get help ASAP--I was walking out the door and SHE could take 'em. She took my 3 youngest and my 3 oldest--and left me with the 9 worst ones. Gah.

I have chewed the top layer off the right side of my tounge. Which makes me want to worry with it even more. I havent shaved in 5 days (that is HIGHLY unusual for me). I feel gross. Look gross. Act gross.

One of my 3 yr olds in my class is suddenly pulling her pants down at nap time (WTF??). And raising her shirt. I have NOOOOO idea why. But it stresses me. Worries me. She wants to take ballet. I told her ballet dancers dont act like that (another kind of dancer does tho). But this afternoon I have to tell Mom. NOT looking forward to that. Parents can be funny sometimes. Sometimes, not so funny.

Pretty sure the ex is having a midlife crisis. It's sad. Mainly for my kids. One of whom knows about it all. THAT is the saddest part.

We are getting sheetrock in our house RIGHT NOW!! It is beginning to REALLY look like a house. I noticed there didn't seem to be plumbing for a dishwasher... HE was shocked and flabergasted. I told him "no problem. We'll just have Claudia, C and V as our dishwashers." He better be glad he said "Oh we WILL have a dishwasher!!" Cause I was NOT kidding about child labor...I had to wash dishes when I had 3 kids--one in a sippy cup, the other on the bottle. I got on my knees, fist raised in the air and said "As God is my witness...I will NEVER hand wash dishes again!!"

If I wake up tomorrow with this headache--I will take my kids to school--call in sick...go to Direct Care and get a shot to knock my ass out. Oh, and my headache out. This is ridiculous. Sednd me "go away headache" vibes. They look like this ">>>>>**@**<<<<<"

Wow. I Wanna Be A Muse When I Grow Up...

I saw this. Doesn't it make ya wanna be a muse???** This is hot stuff in my book--and my book isn't thick or full of lofty ideas or politics. But *this*? THIS sends me...

"For my muse . . .


Then Spring Came

Summer came and went
Autumn leaves were spent
Yellow, red, and gold,
Pain, remorse untold
Upon the ground were spread.
"Come with me," you said.
Then spring came."



**I AM his muse. But feel oh, so undeserving of this.

The Mother Of All Headaches...

I've had an awful headache for 2 days. I thought it was a regular ole headache. Then my 17 (18 in January) daughter asked me to bring home a home pregnancy test. The headache got bigger. It was negative. But my headache didn't get smaller.

Found out that my ex husband is dating a ** year old AND a married 25 year old (FYI: HE is 45). My headache got bigger. My 17 year old is disappointed. Disgusted. As am I. She wants her Dad back--not the hormone ridden teenager she is living with.

My sweet, ADHD baby had a great week last week. But this week has already started off bad. He sat in OCS all day today for threatening to "cut" himself in school. And for throwing a two year old temper tantrum over having to put away his crayons. The headache grows.

I'm getting married on October 25th. Of this year. Like, less than 3 weeks. I don't have a place or minister to marry me. A dress. My kids clothes. A few flowers. Invitations. A cake. My head hurts.

The house he is building will not be ready after we marry. Not for a few weeks more. Where will we live? Here? The RV? His parents? Throb. Throb. My eyes. My cheeks. My teeth. All hurt.

I'm eating less. But gaining weight. My eyes became very itchy and swollen last night. Every day is a bad hair day. I can't get control of my house. Clothes are everywhere. I haven't seen the top of my dining room table in weeks. Something smells in here--and I can't find it. I suspect it's a sippy cup with milk in it... sigh. My head. My head. My aching head.

Today I had 13 three year olds on crack. BY MYSELF. And no liquor available. I was spit on. Told NO! NO! NO! Cleaned up 4 "accidents" in their pants. Suffered through a food fight. It took everything I had not to lock them all in the closet. My head is about to explode. I wanted to run from my classroom. Screaming...but it would only make my head ache more.

Then, I was offered 2 vicodin. I took 'em. Both. Two 750's. The pain is still there. sigh.

And now the debate is knocking on my head too. I need a gun.

Suspended 6 Year Old...? For Being ADHD...

Last Friday I had been at work for 45 minutes when I was called to the the front desk for a phone call. It was the school. The Principal. Calling to tell me that my boy had punched another kid (with a fist) in the eye. And he was suspended. For the day.

When I got there, Carson was sitting in the office. So happy to see me. He kept asking "Mom. Mom! Why am I in here?" I finally got on my knees and faced him. I asked him to tell me what happened. Eventually he said "That boy was aggravating me and calling me names. So I hit him." Before he could get it all out the Principal said "I don't believe that Mom. He lies to us allll the time." I bristled. He may lie--but do you have to say it in front of him? He has already told me that his teacher thinks he is stupid. He hears all the labels. Stupid. Bad. Now Liar.

His teacher was called down to the Principals office to "tell me what he said yesterday". His teacher had walked out of her room. Leaving 19 kids in there. A few wondered out loud where she was. Carson said "She's dead. I killed her." The Principal looked at me (Oh! Carson said he didn't say the "I killed her" part) and said "If I was a paddling person, I'd have been using it today". THAT was the straw that broke the camels back. I stood up and told her "You will NOT talk like that in front of him. He does NOT need to be in here to hear you tear him down--and you will NEVER paddle him." Carson was escorted from the room. I asked both of them if they had ever received training regarding ADHD children?? Or ever MET one? The Principal informed me that she has a grandchild with ADHD. I informed her that they hear "bad", "stupid", "idiot" and "liar" enough from their peers. He needs people he can bond with, people he can trust, people he can respect.

Just then the school counsellor walked in there. The Principal said "Make his weekend miserable. Make it unfun. So he knows how serious this is". I wanted to choke her. The counsellor stood up and said "Everyone here needs to realize, this is a SIX year old with SEVERE ADHD--and obviously the meds aren't working like they should. He can't be held 100% responsible for his actions. He should NOT be punished all weekend. He will not understand that." I wanted to hug her. Take her out for Mexican food. Invite her over to watch movies. Bake her a cake.

Carson went back to work with me. He was quiet and reflective for the most part. The Director let him play video games in her office. On Sunday all 4 of my kids went to church--as well as the 4 kids who will be my step children. Carson behaved himself FINE. No problems. I'm beginning to think its the teacher. Or??? what?? He started taking 10mg of Strattera the first of this school year. Now he's up to 30mg. We are about out of options--the next me we could try would take a while to get in his system...and he would have to be CLOSELY monitored while on it. Blood pressure, blood work, heart. This is scary stuff. He's 6. He's not a big thing at all. He's skinny (the meds messes up his appetite). He's short. But he's adorable. And I love him with all my heart and soul.

Caden...

Caden is 3 years and 5 months old. He isn't potty trained. Or rather...he's lazy. Today he said "uh oh. I'm peeing in me pants." He makes funny faces. His nickname is "Flash" because if the door is open he is GONE...in a flash. He loves play doh (or flay doh, as he calls it). He is starting to draw pictures that actually resemble something. Take the one displayed here for the entire WWW. This is a picture of his father. Naked. Anatomically correct. But upside down--MY mistake, not his. There are dozens of these around my house. He loves to talk about who has a "hooter" and who doesn't. He does. I don't. Today he laid his head on my boob. It was nap time. He raised his head up, looked at my boob and asked "Momma? You gotta baby in der?" Me: "ummm, no." Caden: "Then why's it so fat?"

I Made This, This and This...

I love to see my kids playing together. It sure beats hearing "MOM! Carson just spit on me! Get OFF me, you IDIOT!" "MOM! Claudia called me the "e" word!"

This wasn't posed. I was cleaning the kitchen, heard them giggling and looked up and yelled "DONT MOVE!"

I love these brats.

My Ex Spouse Is Up To Something...

My ex is...bearable. Tolerable. But he never misses a chance to call me stupid--or insinuate that I am stupid. It was his favorite past time for 19 years and 5 months. So, I find myself sniffing for the smell of fish when he is nice-ish. You know, the smell that makes you say "Something is FISHY, here"?

Yesterday he calls me at work. Tells me that him and the boys are at WalMart. Then he uttered..."Do you need anything while I'm here?" wtf?! Of course I said no. Like I want to owe him ANYTHING?! Please. Can you imagine if I had said "Yeah, laundry detergent. Koolaid. And a big bottle of AstroGlide."

Then, if it could get any better. I went to pick the boys up at 6PM. He was in the shower so I visited the spare restroom. When I came out he says (from our once *shared* bedroom) "Hey! Can you come here a minute?" UMMMMM--NO. "I want you to look at this paint. Tell me what you think." Ok, so hes painting the bedroom. His bedroom. Wanted me to weigh in on the shade. Why!? Why!?? Mind you he was wearing shorts and no shirt at the time. Please dress yourself. Please don't invite me into your room. Or offer to buy me groceries. Or make me throw up in my mouth. Gross.

He is an excellent father. My kids are blessed to have him. He sucks as a husband. He is a homophobic, racist, chauvinistic sphincter muscle. He only watches movies that have boobs, bombs and bullets--and car chases. He doesn't read (I tease that he CAN'T read). He hunts. Animals and women. YOUNG women. He is 45. Looks 35--or younger. His body is in shape. But his personality is...lacking.

He really needs to shape up--or my kids will never have a mother figure at his house. Plus, he keeps dating the 18-25 year olds. I mean, COME ON! Our oldest daughter is 17. She will be 18 in January. Does he want HER dating a 45 year old father of 4????

Bless his heart tho. Why? I dunno--someone should.

Not Mistress Of My Domain...

I suck at being an adult. I should have remained 12 and never grew up. I want to stay young. I do. But the big scary world expects me to be responsible. I find this hard to do.

When I was married to "the Ex" I NEVER paid the bills. He was the math wizard (tho he never finished his degree), so he paid bills, balanced the checkbook, all that jazz. He reminded me DAILY to take my meds. And if I got grumpy, his first comment was "Did you take your meds today?" My comment usually was a silent, but well known hand gesture. I know, but it made me FEEL better. Sorta.

Now that I am on my own... I'm not doing so well. I have a cable/internet bill that's 2 months old. Electric was due...today? Yesterday? Tomorrow? My car registration went out in...(very embarassed to admit this) 06/08. Drivers liscense went out in August. It is VERY possible I am driving with no insurance on my car. I'm afraid to call and ask if I've been dropped. My checkbook? I just go by the atm daily and check my balance (which is MEAGER).

I've gone a few days without meds. Enough that my future husband sold his firstborn to buy me pills (just kiddin'. No one bought him.). But it was enough for him to realize that ME without meds = one crazy a$$ wench.

I know I need to get myself together. Every month I tell myself "GET IT TOGETHER!!". And I seriously *want* to. But I feel like I am in a hole. And the hole is getting deeper. And people keep walking by, shaking their heads and saying "You better get it together, girl!" But no one will reach a hand down and help me out.

I bring home $1000 per month from my job (HA, should call it a hobby). And "the Ex" gives me $400 per month for my equity in the house we bought in 2004. That's it. That's my income. Rent is $695. Electric runs $200. Water $35. Cable/Internet $115. Car insurance $85. Garbage (wtf?) is $25. Psychaitrist $40. Meds $90. I'm not counting gas and food...cause...I have NO FREAKING IDEA. But, YOU do the math. I am struggling.

And I wonder why my head aches like a MO FO. And why I crave ciggarettes and liquor. Got any ideas? Besides selling myself on the street--'cause as bad as I feel, I'm giving it away for free to feel good for a few minutes.

A Day In The Life Of A 3 Year Old Preschool Teacher...

This morning, I got to work on time. But my OWN 3 year old wasn't feeling like being cooperative. He refused to get out of the car. "I don't wanna go here, I'm staying in the car!" I drug him from my car. Carried him to the building and laid him on the safety of the rug for his tantrum.

13 three year olds. That's right. 13. And they all have drama. Ashley doesn't want Kye playing with anyone but her. Keysen wants his 2 babies and his book alllll the time. Carlie needs her Key-Key (blanket). Joey sneaks around drinking out of everyone cup but her own--in hopes someone has something *good*. Casey wants to cry--but he wants to play too. Torn between making me thinks he's miserable and actually having fun. Drew wants to scream and run. All. The. Time. Madelyn tells me 4 times per hour that her "momma will be here in a few hours." Gawd...I WISH!! Bailey needs to "potty" but it's always too late. Braden is a climber--and a faller. Caden is mine...and up my butt crack, CONSTANTLY. Ian looks like an angel--but he is a contender with WWWF. Jack T. is autistic. He has an obsession with making sure the toilet seat is UP. and flushed. At least every 3 minutes. Today Jack T. was stung by yellow jackets on his finger, BAD, twice. Poor boy. I love this kid. Mainly because I have a troubled child (severe ADHD--Carson) and I know how much "trouble" it is for them to REALLY bond with someone--and Jack T has with me. And I with him. This boy is SPECIAL. He is.

Braden and Joey climbed onto a low table in our class. "Please get down, right now before you--" And Joey fell off. She didn't cry much, until she say her Mother at the dutch door. Then she was near death.

Madelyn bit a 2 year old visiting our class--ON THE CHEEK!

Toys everywhere. Shaving cream. Tiny turtles and frogs. Matchbox cars. I would have given my 3rd born (he has ADHD) for 2 Valium. Just 2. To get thru the day.

3 poopy diapers. Braden's smells like a grown mans. And he went twice. Mine went too. I hate that my son is THREE and not potty trained. I've tried it all. Bribes, threats...and everything in between. He's about to be responsible for cleaning it all up himself. I'm SICK of it.

Casey lost a sock. Eastin a hair bow (shes the 2 yr old). We painted with toothbrushes. We did tanagrams. Used big plastic tweezers to pick up small colored rocks and put them in ice trays. Read books. Did puzzles. Threw wooden blocks at each other. Shoved each other. Scratched each others faces. Bite to the face. Water fountain water allllll over the floor.

"Let's all see how loud Ms Martie will play that stupid "Kids Worship" CD!! Lets see how red her face gets and how sweet her voice is. Whoever gets called "HoneyBun" wins!!!"

It's 11PM now. 3 beers later--I *might* go back on Monday. I MIGHT.

I Need To Quit My Job...

I am torn. Torn between staying at my present employer that pays me DICK, has NO insurance benefits and is "F'd" us from the floor up and leaving their sorry asses. The only thing keeping me there is my students.

I'm not a braggart, but they love me. Do you know the joy of going to work to only have 9 people scream your name, run towards you and latch onto your leg, waist, arms, neck? If not, you arent getting paid enough. Or doing a good enough job. When I see my student in public they scream my name. They run from the safety of their parents care...and into my arms.

Today a child who was in my class over the summer was brought in by his mother. She took him to his new class and left. His screams were immediate. and LOUD. I stepped outside my door and met eyes with his mother. "He never cries like this" she said. I asked her to step behind the wall and went and got him. Asked him if he wanted to come to my class. He nodded, wiped his eyes and sniffed. I took him to my class and had him calm in 3 minutes. He loves his Ms. Martie. What can I say?

These are the moments that give me pause.

And then, I get my paycheck... And I'm shorted 8 hours for Labor Day. And $60 for a cleaning day. And they say they will "fix" it on my next check. Kiss my backside. By next paycheck I will be employed somewhere where my base pay is MORE. And I have insurance. So, yeah, get your shit together. Your ship is siiiinnnnking. And I wont go down with ya.

I gotta look out for me. But I loooove these kids. I do. And I KNOW they love me. And I KNOW their parents love me. But love doesn't pay the bills...unless you are a prostitute. And I'm not--yet.

Irritable Ike...

Please Note That This Post Was Written Saturday Afternoon. On A "Break" From Napping!!

I have family that live on the Bolivar Peninsula...near Galveston Island. 129 people were rescued from the Peninsula alone. My family are all here in East Texas. Nine of them. Them and alot of Louisiana folks. We still have gas. Water. Electricity. Milk. We will all live. Unless Ike throws a few tornadoes our way. Right now Ike is just south of Tyler, Texas. 15 minutes from me (I'm to the north of Tyler). 39 MPH winds. And we are expected to get 5-6 more inches of rain. Luverly.

My family has spoken to a few idiots, er...I mean, friends who stayed behind. One guy (nut case) SWAM down hwy 87 to the church and spent last night on the roof. My family tells me that they have heard of at least nine people drowning at Crystal Beach (where they live).

Thankfully, my family is safe. My ex Mother In Law came and got my kids this morning. And I will spent the night elsewhere (instead of in my large coffin/trailer). I feel awful for those who have lost their homes, property or friends/family members. My parents did not have FLOOD insurance. I'm not saying they are stupid...but... Hello? Remember the last storm? The one before that? Guess not. I'm sure the downstairs of their beach house is GONE--along with all their pack rat belongings (good riddance to the things *I* would have to take care of when they die of old age). But we don't know about the roof, wrap around deck, elevator (my uncle/dad is a paraplegic) or upstairs.

The only good I can find in this? They may move back HERE. To East Texas. I need all the moral support around here I can get. So *I* might win.

1,000 search and rescue people are looking now on Galveston Island. And 50 aircraft. That is just SCARY...

PS: Right after I typed this up--we lost power here. And I packed some belongings and went to my future in laws house for the night. But I'm back home now. My rented, glamourous trailer didn't blow away (darn it). We had alot of trees down here. Mainly pine trees but a few big oaks too. It's 25 minutes from my house to theirs. I saw TWO cars on the highway. Besides me. It was eerie.

"Momma, Can I Tell You About The Sun?" Said My Son...

Last night we were driving home from work. Me, Claudia (7), Carson (6) and Caden (3).

Carson had a bad day at school. He tried to bite his teacher. Ran from the principal and spit on some kids in the bus line. He was in trrrrrouble. And he knew it. But he was working hard to impress me and win me back over. He had already informed me several times that I was the "best Mother in the Universe". Ummm, yeah, right.

So, from the backseat, he starts this conversation:

Carson: Momma? Did you know that the sun is just a big ball of fire?

Me: Really? wow.

Carson: And if you got even close to it you would burn up INSTANTLY!

Me: Oh my. (Thinking: wow, he must have listened to someone. He's so smart)

Carson: Yep. But wouldn't burn up Superman.

Me: Hmmmm (Thinking: so, he heard all this from a Superman cartoon?)

Carson: But it WOULD burn up Spiderman!!

Claudia: How do YOU know!?

Carson: Because the sun is Spidermans weakness...

Claudia: His "weakness??"

Carson: Yeah, ya know, like *GIRLS* are MY weakness...


OMG. That boy is so sweet. His current phrase that he repeats over and over is "WICKED SWEET!!" Feel free to say it yourself over and over... I do.

Tell Me About Those Towers That Were Brothers...

On September 11th, seven years ago. EVERYONE remembers where they were when they heard. Last night a checker at WalMart told me she was in class (college) and that her professor told her, but wouldn't allow them to leave. I can't even imagine.

I was pregnant with Carson. A full time, stay at home mom to Calie and Claudia. The (then)husband was in the shower when I heard Charlie Gibson reporting from "Good Morning America". I ran and told him what was going on, ... And I watched in...horror? As the second plane crashed into the tower. We both sat in front of the TV all day. Unable to leave it--but wanting to run.

When it was time to go pick Calie up from school, she was in 5th grade, I decided to push Claudia and the boy I babysat in the double stroller. I knew the traffic would be awful. And I wanted time to explain it to her. I walked 4 blocks to her school, crossed a busy street... and picked her up. She was very calm. Asked a few questions. And then seemed OK. The year before she had met a girl at Ranch Camp and *her* birthday is September 11th. Calie was worried about her new best friend, worried that everyone would be sad on her birthday from now on. (HAPPY BIRTHDAY RITA!!!!)

I worried about the baby I carried in my belly. I had 5 months left to go before his due date. I worried that I was bringing him into a world so full of hate and strife. I was emotional. Call it hormones. But every story on the news had me bawling. And yet I couldn't *not* watch! It made me think of when I was home on maternity leave with Calie. February 1991. Desert Storm was on 24/7. I cried a river then too...every day another story about a dad leaving his newborn--or even a mother. I was amazed at their strength to leave their new wives, new children... and some never came back. And the ones who came back were forever changed.

And then so many from September 11th didn't come home either.

Today our school asked that everyone wear red, white and blue. My class made a paper flag to hang on our door. The stars were painted by the kids. And we made "hand print flags". I painted the lower part of their palm blue and every other finger red or white. They were really cute. The kids LOVE to paint.

After the school age kids got to our school for "after school care", Carson ran to me. Told me he had a "so-so" day. Then he asked me "Momma, Tell me about those towers that were brothers." I knew what he meant. They were "twin" towers. So they must be twin brothers...

Still thinking of those who never made it...and to those who did...and those who were left here alone.

Dysfunction Is Normal Around Here...

You all are aware that *I* have issues. Manic/Depressive. On medication. And STILL I have issues. With trust. With feeling unworthy of everything--even the air I breathe. But I come by it honestly. Honestly.

My Parental Units (the real ones) have mental issues. Addiction issues. Personality issues. So do my siblings. I love my sister with a passion that borders on insane. And although she has never (that I know of) been on medication--she has been depressed (maybe is right now). My brother has even deeper issues. For one, he resides in Mississippi. If that alone won't qualify you for Nut Status, I dunno what will...

We had a hard life. This isn't for sympathy. Or even empathy. But if you want to send money to help with my rent issue, let me know (HAHA).

Our childhoods included alcoholism, spousal abuse, borderline child abuse, child molestation (parents were aware of it but never did anything about it) and your regular ole vanilla brand of crappy care. So, when *I* feel like the worst mother on planet Earth (and that is daily)--I know, it could be worse. But that is no consolation.

When I was diagnosed as a nutter, I was partially relieved. AHHHH, a NAME for this feeling I've had all my life. The mood swings. The lower than low depression. And then I was also partially...even MORE depressed. I'm crazy. I'll likely be on meds FOREVER. FOREVER reminded every night by 3 pills. And every morning by 4. And God forbid I should forget 2 days in a row. This isn't like birth control where you double up and take precautions. Oh, no... Do this and you have a frrrrreak out.

You may cry uncontrollably if your 3 year old says "You're FIRED!!" because you didn't fill his sippy cup quick enough. You may slam on your breaks just to get your screaming kids attention as they scream/slap/pinch one another in the backseat. You may eat a bag of Wavy Lays or drink a 5th of whiskey and Coke. Smoke a pack of cigs and eat half a box of Raisin Bran. You may scream at the screaming birds to STOP SCREAMING!!! Then...then cry.

And this is my normal life. And some days, I can handle it. And then, there are days like today. Where I feel a nervous breakdown coming on.

R.I.P. Jake D...

A few days ago (September the 1st) a man who was only 32 years old, wrote a letter and drove to a secluded area, near here.

Even as a child he was adorable--he was 8 years younger than I. I remember taking family vacations...he was there, so was his twin brother. They were the same. The same looking. But different personalities. Jeff was more reserved. Jake funny and outrageous. Silly. A comedian. We spent time together on the beaches of the Gulf of Mexico. Near Galveston, Texas.

Writing our names in the sand. Fishing. Running into the surf. Dragging our feet behind the Jeep--we sat on the tailgate and watched the drunks and scantily clad women make spectacles of themselves. It was like the Playboy Channel--but in real life!

Both boys were fun. Cute. Boys I wish were my brothers.

Jake recieved scholorships in baseball. He was an athelete. He loved to climb rocks. But he fell and hurt his back as a teenager. He had to deal with chronic pain for years. Recently he had surgery to cauterize nerves in his back--and to have a morphine pump installed.

All to no avail. Pain and depression go hand in hand. Some pain in psyical. Some in your head/heart. His pain was insurmountable. His depression over the pain--causing him even MORE pain.

Jake wrote a letter. And then shot himself in the head. Killing himself and ending his pain. Now, his young wife, mother, father and step parents mourn, his half sister...as does his twin brother--now alone, missing his other half.

We will miss you, young friend. And we will never forget. I am comforted only with the idea that you are no longer in pain.

XOXO

Like, Wow...

Today was/is Saturday. My kids are visiting with my parents while I went to the school where I teach (bahahaha) 3 year olds M-F. But today I went to clean. I cleaned 7 restrooms. 10 toilets. 5 classrooms. 2 halls. and a huge kitchen and cafeteria. I swept, vacuumed, mopped. Clorox wiped doors, handles, light switches. Emptied trashcans. Sprayed Lysol on door jams, little chairs. Changing tables and toy bins. I cleaned the front desk up (dirty women). I left the building smelling of Clorox, Mr Clean, Lysol and Febreeze. It took me 3 hours. And the wench is shining, I tell you!

If I wasn't in such dire straits--I wouldn't do it. But the $60 will come in handy when its time to purchase pharmaceuticals (the kind that keep me sane--dirty minded reader!) or hair color. But this is back breaking work. I feel sorry for every janitor I've ever made fun of. I hurt. $60 may not be enough.

Now I am too tired to clean my own nasty, filthy house. Maybe while "someone" watches the Notre Dame game...I'll clean.

PS: Dont tell us who won...we recorded it.

A Formal Apology...

This is where I apologize for the post regarding the "bleach", the "those who are better than I" crap.

I shouldn't have. No really. I should have told him how his comment made me feel-instead of posting it here--for all you, my friends, my intimate strangers, to see.

All my life I have felt unworthy. Unworthy of my parents love--for I never felt it anyway. Unworthy of my first husbands attention and affection--for I never felt it anyway. Unworthy of my children's respect and love...I really F'd this up myself. Unworthy of friends. Unworthy of my sisters admiration. My grandmothers love. My Mimi's (the Aunt who raised me) love.

So, how was I to believe, that tho he wanted me to tone down the posting of my sinning and evil, wicked ways, that he TRULY loves me...just as I am. That he loves ME. Just. As. I. Am.

I am sorry, Mr X. I am sorry that I didn't talk to you. That I didn't communicate my feelings to you, how are you to know how I feel unless I speak up?? This is hard for me. I am not used to speaking my feelings. Communication isn't my strong suit. Past experiences have taught me that my feelings are of no consequnce. No one listens anyway. I should have know better. Should have know YOU are different. YOU *do* care. You do listen. You do understand. I'm sorry for what I called you last night. You aren't a hypocrite. By any stretch of the imagination.

You make me want to be a better person. I just don't know if I can do it. But I want to. I want you to be proud of me. I never want to embarass you or have you be disappointed in me--and I know you aren't. But *I* am disappointed in me. *I* am embarassed by me.

It is so hard for me to feel worthy of your love. I really am just a lost little girl. Wanting someone to love me. Someone to want me. Someone to teach me. Lead me. I am eager to please. And I hope that I'm not quick to disappoint.

I am so very sorry. I am. Please accept my appology. I hate arguing--tho we never argue. Fight--no, it wasn't even a fight. I'm sorry we...had hard feelings. Felt at odds. I love you. Please be patient with me. Please understand that I am immature. That I have a hard time communicating. That I am a sensitive creature and I read things into words that aren't there. Partly because I'm a woman (yeah, we do that) but mostly because I've NEVER had anyone love me for ME. I can't change for you. I can't. But I hope to grow for you. But you will have to be patient. Loving. And understanding. All things I know you are. All things I am grateful for.

I love you. I do. As long as the road...but not the road to Aunt Suzi's house (it's a dead end).

Always,

Martie

Superwoman...

I have a "Theme Song":

Superwoman by Alicia Keyes (She is awesome)

Everywhere I'm turning
Nothing seems complete
I stand up and I'm searching
For the better part of me
I hang my head from sorrow
Slave to humanity
Wear it on my shoulder
Gotta find the stregnth in me

Cause I am superwoman
Yes I am
Yes she is
Even when I'm a mess
Still put on a vest
With an S on my chest
Oh yes
Im a superwoman

For all the mothers fighting
For better days to come
And all my women, all my women sitting here trying
To come home before the sun
And all my sisters
Coming together
Say yes I will
Yes I can

(Chorus)

When I'm breaking down
And I can't be found
And I start to get weak
Cause no one knows
Me underneath these clothes
But I can fly
We can fly Ohhhh

(Chorus)



Take THAT!!

Now listen to it and sing along...:

Time To Clean Up My Act...

Was advised that my blog was maybe too real. Might cause embarassment for those who are better than I.

I'm just me. I'm bipolar. I cuss on ocassion. I drink too often. I have, even as a mother of 4, divorced 40 year old, been known to have (gasp) sex...outside of marriage. I REFUSE to apoligize for ANY of it. Because it all makes me....ME. And *I* love me.

Buuuuut...in the interest of the souls and reputation of Others...I am taking down a few pictures, changing the names of the innocent (BAHA) and pouring bleach on a few posts.

Hope you all feel refreshed now. And sanitized.

I would tell ya to kiss my ass--But that is just DIRTY!!!

Dinosaur Valley...

Tomorrow I will be going with Mr X to Dinosaur Valley in Texas. South of the Metroplex.

I was told to take good walking shoes and my swim suit. OMG. And my camera. OM DOUBLE G!!

There might be pics of me in my swimsuit. Might not. But the WILL be pics of fake dinosaurs. And kids splashing in the pools. Pools made out of dinosaurs footprints. Should be an experience I wont forget, plus I'm spending the night at his parents house. Hmmmmm....

Have a great LABOR day--hope none of you are laboring....

XOXO,

Martie

Happy Belated Birthday To Vicki...

Let me tell you about Vicki. I met her on an iVillage board. We were both pregnant with babies due in October 2000. There were many friends I met on there. Many. Girls who I shared with, and they shared with me. I have never felt closer to a bunch of people I've never met. My ex was convinced that they all were old fat men who either wanted to cut the baby out of my tummy OR find out where I lived so they could sodomize me.

Vicki--who I fondly refer to as Vic. I love her. I do. She has the same sick sense of humor that I have. She has a husband who she loves--but also wants to throttle. 2 adorable sons (Arranged marriage??). She works full time and doesn't get paid what she's worth. She takes care of her home, her kids, her pets and her husband (maybe not in that order, but maybe).

Vic and I share birthdays. And I was a Birthday Hog this year. I fondled my birthday. Licked it. Moonwalked with it. Grabbed it's crotch, even. And then today, I remembered, (no, Vic reminded me) it was HER birthday too.

So, Vic, tonight I am drinking a cold one for you! Bottle raised, eye twinkling. Here's to YOU. Not to YOU and him, Or YOU and them. But to YOU!! You are awesome. I love you, my sister/friend. I pray for you every night. I do. You 'da man! or 'da WOman!!

I hope your year ROCKS!!! That you can remain strong and true. That you are able to put yourself first every now and then!! You deserve it! I wanna be like you when I grow up (which will be never....hee hee).

I love you, girl. Thank you for making me feel special--and liked. You will never know how happy every letter you ever sent me made me feel. I am indebted to you...

Happy BELATED Birthday Vic!! many hugs and kisses (no tongue please)!!!

What's That On Your Finger...?

Yep. Yep. Yep. My party was fun. We laughed our a$$es off. Drank. Ate. Laughed some more. Drank some more. Told funny stories. Watched the Rice football game (yeah, but it was fun). My all time favorite people were here!!

Then, suddenly, everyone was gone. Just me and Mr X. So very near midnight--we went for a stroll. No moon, a few stars. Just me and my heart walking hand in hand. A short walk. But nice.

On the way back in the house, he stops me on the steps.

"Wait. Sit here for a minute."

I sit on the top step. He kneels before me a few steps down. He takes my hands in his. Says very sweet words. Before I know it, a ring is on my finger. He tells me that he told his kids and his parents before he came over, and that my sister knew too. I love this about him. Well, lots of things actually. But he knows how to be sweet. And still be a man (LMAO). Altho, he didn't notice I had a new rug in my living room--after he walked all over it twice. And it is a 5' X 7' rug--so it's not like it was tiny.

The next morning at 7:30AM. His oldest daughter called to see what my answer was! How 'bout that? When she heard I had said YES, she screamed all over the house... Silly girl.

My kids were excited too. I showed them my hand and Claudia said "WHAT is that on your finger? Did you marry Mr X!!? LOL Claudia is a little mad and sad that when my name changes that hers won't also. Her reasoning? *I* gave birth to her, so whatever MY name is, hers should be the same!! I explained, that altho she is VERY smart, the law doesn't see it that way.

Caden grabbed Mr X's girls) and held them tight and said "These are my sissers". Awwwwww, even Caden gets it! Carson was excited that Mr X would be his Step-Daddy and that he would have step brothers. Our kids get along GREAT.

So, now we are engaged. But, really, we were a long time ago. A few lifetimes ago. So, this doesn't feel strange, or scary, or make me anxious. It just feels right.

I promise to post something that is not romantic Monday or Tuesday. It may include dinosaurs or ADHD fits (1st day of school). It may include a story about my 17 year old--trust me, you will shake your head on this one.

PS: If today was what 40 will be like for the rest of the year--it should be the best year of my life!!

Happy Birthday John McCain, Michael Jackson and ME...

This morning I got up early. It was my first day to take the kids to school since they had been with their Dad the first 4 days. As I walked into the living room, Claudia said from her bed "Happy Birthday, Momma! Ummmm, why do you wear your panties up your crack?" Note to self: Now is the time to stop walking through the house in a Tshirt and thong.

Later Carson got up and asked me how old I was. "I'm 40 today, pumpkin." His reply? "Gosh, does that mean you were born FOURTY YEARS ago?" Ahhhh, it does indeed.

I've received numerous text wishes and a few gifts from my kids in class. I'm having a great day--and it promises to only get better. I'm on my lunch break now, baking a german chocolate cake for the party tonight. I can't stand german chocolate cake--but my mother gave me 20 cake mixes and 2 tubs of icing (all german choc icing)--along with 40 million cans of green beans, pinto beans, corn and sloppy joe mix. Thanks, Mom.

So, if you're in the neighborhood, you should stop by around 8PM or so. We will be the house that 2 cop cars are parked at--and beer cans in the yard.

And We Were Dancing In The Street...

Last night, one of the most romantic moments of my life...

I was following Mr X home from basketball. We were on a dark, deserted blacktop road. He stopped at the stop sign. I stopped behind him. He got out of his truck and walked back to my car. I rolled down my window. He opened my door, reached into my car and undid my seat belt. Held out his hand. I took it and got out of the car.

His truck door was opened, music playing. A slow song. He took me in his arms and we danced, not saying a word. When the song was over he whispered he loved me. I whispered back. He put me back in my car. Fastened my seat belt. And walked back to his truck.

As he drove away, towards home, I thought: "THIS is why I *love* this man!"