SNOW DAY

No, I don't even live in Tahoe - just 12 miles from the California coast! It's all about the elevation. We have some.

Gwendomama's Mom Car Fund

You asked, I listened.....Y'all are too kind.

If you can help Gwendomama's family obtain a mini-van, please donate.
Here's the full story on why we need one....

If you know of anyone selling their mini-van, I will pay the donations forward to the seller.

Thank you.

In Which I Attempt to Sell Myself out for a Mom Car:

So here I go, whoring myself out on the innernets......

Bottom line:

Gwendomama needs a mini-van.

Yes. I do.

Most of you know that Xdude left me with about 4k debt along with some bruises.
There was an amazing fundraising (I bow to you, Shannon) movement, and my family was able to stay in our house because of you.
Now it's a matter of staying in our state.

In November, Xdude was ordered by a judge to begin paying child support in December (noting that he had not volunteered a cent until being ordered by a judge to do so). He ignored the amount ordered for both children and decided to just pay whatever he wanted, which is half of what he was ordered to pay. So he pays about $250/month/per child, which is embarrassingly insufficient in this area of the country. Except I spend approximately $125/month driving them to and from visitation, so it's more like $187.50/month/per child.

Xdude continues to ignore child support obligations, and has also continued to ignore my many pleas, my attorney's negotiations, and the Judge's stern recommendation that he sign over his interest in the car. See, the car is in his name, yet it has already been proven in court that I own 50% of it. Yes, I am embarrassed to tell you that I allowed him to keep the car in his name alone, but not nearly as embarrassed as I was telling you that I allowed the situation of power and control to get to a point where he attempted to kill me (or at least scare me into submission by choking me?) a year ago.

I recently moved into a wonderful little dollhouse owned by friends, who are allowing me to work some of the rent off in childcare trade. I am trying to work as much as possible - even when my children are with me, and I have a number of other families who are interested in paying me to do after school care as well. But I have 'his' damn car- which I hate and it only has three seats suitable for children, as the passenger seat airbag cannot be turned off manually. My children take up two of those seats.
I have explained this to the Judge; Xdude totally knows I want a larger car just so I can work more and do what he is not doing - support our children. (He does, however, live in a fabulously large house.)

Even the Judge pointed out that I needed a mini-van to work more and why would he sabotage my efforts to work more when it could result in a higher child support payment from him. But Xdude feels he is above the law and doesn't need to pay any more child support than he wants to...so he remains unmoved by any requests or persuasion.
I can't sell the car for a mini-van unless he signs over the title.
Nope, he just won't.
He feels no compulsion to do the right thing for his children, because he is incapable of seeing beyond his own anger and vitriol.

I need a mini-van.
So.
If you live in California and can afford to part with a mini-van, please consider me.
I have a friend who can work on Toyotas if it needs work...he is willing to help too.
Maybe you are willing to sell me the van for a low monthly payment and I will turn whatever I get (when he finally DOES sign it over....justice will be served eventually but the wheels of justice are powered by a 2 yr old on a tricycle) over to you when I can sell this damn car.

If you can sell me a mini-van SO VERY CHEAP or consider me a worthy cause for a charitable donation, I will be ever so grateful. I will make you cupcakes. Or chocolate sushi!! Yes, you will certainly be worthy of the chocolate sushi!


Yes, you are right - he SHOULD pay for his kids. Why should I have to ask YOU to help?

Well.....I hate to beg, but I am watching my California residential status become less and less realistic. I can't count on Xdude for anything except a constant argument.
I need to support these kids, I am trying to maintain our family in this area, and he is trying to sabotage any efforts I make to try and get ahead.

Thanks......now I am going to go hurl up the last little bit of pride I had.


3/5/10 EDITOR'S NOTE: Okay, there is kindness in this world.
Some of you asked me to put up a donation button, and now I have.

Definitely NOT Parent's Choice Toy Award Material...

I am in shock.

Bubbles loves his 'guys' more than any other toys. Sure, he loves his rescue heroes, and his trains, but not as much as his 'guys'. Guys are tiny and have many snippety-snappy accessories and come in blue boxes. Playmobil, with its attention to detail and lack of merchandise produced in China, has won our family over.

But today, while searching for 'guys' to go in the castle and boat he has requested for his birthday (he's not getting both, btw), I came across this.

And it is just so so very wrong.


Notice the mask and the scattered (obviously stolen) money.
It's a getaway car.

Do not read this if the words 'dead baby cake' offend you...

The Bloggess, well-known by everyone for being one who, err.....turns on.....many things (like light switches!) and people (and sheep, and puppies), has turned me on to this video site.

And just in time too.


Let me point out, that while Jenny's movie is funny, it took her four and one half days to complete.

Whereas my movie took only seven minutes.

Dead Baby Cake

So, I have to write this. I am also going to remind a certain someone that she is not being made fun of here, rather, has given me some comedic relief material in a dry period.

I was having a 'chat' with my innernet friend and one of the things I love about this particular innernet friend, is her dark humor and ability to climb into my brain from across the country. This time of year is, plainly, DARK for me. To cope with this season, I have often resorted to what some might call inappropriate humor.

So, I happen to mention to innernet friend (IFriend) that someone had suggested that I celebrate Elijah's birthday by making a cake and having a little birthday party.
Did that suggestion make me mad?, that someone had wanted to know.
No, I said, certainly not mad! I had definitely heard of people doing that....it just wasn't.....for me.
Of course I couldn't get it out of my head, and morbidly kept imagining just how that would take shape, this birthday party for my dead child. I suppressed some inappropriate giggles from some friends who I know are challenged by my annual bout with morbid humor....but of course I can't be kept down. I am a VIRGO.

So, I had to share with IFriend.

me: so, the idea was that i would have a party for him make a cake, get the children involved, have a birthday party.!!!!!

IFriend: WHAT! MAD?

me: oh no i am not mad

IFriend: a CAKE?

me: i have heard some people do that
IFriend: I would freak out making a cake

me: just NOT FOR ME

can you imagine?

IFriend: no, I honestly can't

me: MAKING A FUCKING CAKE

IFriend: it's macabre - I mean, you know, not that there's anything WRONG with it, but...not something I would do
me: there's the issue of putting the baby inside the cake, or just what to write on it...

i mean...okay....happy 6th birthday elijah....no that's not right....happy 1st birthday AGAIN elijah....no still not right.....ummmm....happy birthday in heaven my little angel?

IFriend: pukes - personally I would just fall the fuck apart making the thing and hate the whole process

me: has to maintain sense of humor right now

IFriend: yeah
me: a cake. yeah, i mean a lasagna maybe...but a CAKE? heh

IFriend: like "we're HAPPY our kid is dead"

me: i KNOW

IFriend: "see look, a CAKE"

me: HAPPPY DEAD BABY CAKE!!!

IFriend: keels over... lord

me: that isn't right either - you see the problem.

IFriend: yes - I mean, what to WRITE on it alone is a blog entry...

me: oooo - and we could SING TO HIS ASHES OF COURSE!

IFriend: put a party hat on the urn

me: that would rock, but....who blows out the candles?

IFriend: just take it outside and wait for the wind to blow the candle out...and be like "look kids, your brother made a wish!"

kids are gullible, they'd totally buy it

me: HAR! they TOTALLY WOULD!

End of Conversation Advice:

IFriend: I think doing some kind of non-deadbaby-activity would be much better than making it a Deadbaby Day...too tempting to wallow that way.


Indeed. Thank you, IFriend. You know who you are.

Apraxia in Action

Apraxia update on Bubbles over here today.

He rocks.

If You Still Think I Am Genteel In Any Way....Avert Your Eyes.

I can't help myself.

Sharing this story is a sure sign that I've lost all remaining shreds of decency.
But let's just stop pretending shall we?

California Unified Nether Temple Society

The BOS was extolling the virtues of the California Womens Health program, how great the doctors she saw were, blahblablah. Which reminded me that I am way overdue for a girlybits exam. Not to mention the girlybits have been causing me some insomnia-inducing, cancerfearing shuddering terrified thoughts concern. So, to share in her new love of stirrup visits for a mere $15, the BOS began her campaign to get me to the cooter doc.

"Dude. They give you a card. A card that you can use just for your cooter! A cooter card!"
"Oooh wow....do they swipe it?"
"They surely do!"
"Oh! So that would make it like a credit cunt?"
"Exactly!"

So forgive me, dear Marisol, the very nice receptionist from the Womens Health Center, for giggling during our phone conversation when you told me today that I qualified for 'the card'. And that it would cover all my reproductive organ goodies. Because I really was working hard to suppress the nervous gutwrenching fears question that was begging to be answered: And where are you going to swipe that card?


I warned you.

My Blog Ran Away

We're sorry...

... but your query looks similar to automated requests from a computer virus or spyware application. To protect our users, we can't process your request right now.

Umm, well okay then.

That is what happened to me when I tried to go to my own blog this morning.

I wanted to post something, but I am afraid I don't know where to send it - the bitch left me no forwarding address.

Anthropologetic

Well, it's a sad thing for me to announce, but this recession depression has gotten the best of us, and we have to move back to Grammie's farm.

It's tragic, because we can't fit too much in the truck, and we'll have to get rid of most of our belongings. We did buy a lot of crap absolutely necessary indulgences while caught up in the California housing and credit boom re-mortgaging out our home, and most of it will have to go. But we will make do, and somehow make our new digs look like home again.

I mean sure, we'll have to sleep in the slaughter house dairy barn, but since the dust storms, the milk done all dried up and the cows is all gone to live with Grampie Up There.



We sure do like our privacy, so the kids have their own bedroom out on Grammie's front porch. It's been months since any drop of rain has fallen, so we'll hang that tarp when we come to it.



If y'all want to come visit, we've set up a lovely guest room in the ol' chicken coop (only $250/night for friends and family!)(we gotta buy our crack grits, you know).



We didn't have any room for the tricycles or learnin' books, but I couldn't bear to get rid of my $5000 couch, so we did manage to squeeze it into our quilt-filled pick-up truck when we left the state.

(Whaddya mean there aren't any toys? See those papier mache birds? If those kids so much as drool on them they are dead meat. Toys!)









(Disclaimer of reality: Every photo here is lifted from the most recent Anthropol*gie catalog. Their art director is apparently giving us a vision of things to come...)

I'm Going To Eat You Up!

Why are my kids' faces on these M&M's?


Go find out!

Do NOT eat while reading this because you might gag or throw up and choke and then threaten to sue me.

Yesterday was a crappy day. Last week had many crappy days.
Today is status quo. Crappy, but predictable at this point.

All these lovely sunshine filled days keep reminding me of another day almost eight years ago. Since I can't get it out of my mind, I will fill yours with it.
If you don't like vile, then go away now.
You were warned.


I was first trimester pregnant, and had just made myself some soup. I carried it upstairs to watch a movie, sat on the couch and balanced the soup in my lap.
My cat came inside just as I was sipping, and she looked a bit funny, like she had something to tell me, but I don't normally think these things and chalked it up to being pregnant. Then I noticed a scab on her side that I had not seen before (pregnant=distracted), and she sat down on the floor in front of me to scratch it at the moment I noticed.
Suddenly, brownish liquid started spewing out her side, and I do mean spewing. A sickening smell filled the room and without warning, my stomach reacted and I vomited into my soup bowl, spilling hot soup and puke all over my knees and my couch*.
Which made it hard to stand up, because I couldn't figure out what to clean up first (soup, puke, or unexplained cat juice) and I could not really stop gagging until I got out of the room. My cat just had an abscessed abscess and she was totally fine after my vet friends (hallelujah) dealt with her on that Sunday afternoon while they laughed and laughed over the vomit story.
I, on the other hand, was permanently scarred. I can not to this day watch a cat explode without vomiting.






*(Guests of Chateau Gwendo needn't worry. It wasn't that couch - it was another, much older couch which was disposed of at the dump many years ago!)

Gwendomama Has A Big Mouth

This thing, while keeping your child's carseat from rocking, ROCKS!



New post up at Big Mouth Reviews.

Haters Are All Around Us

To those of you who have asked how I can 'spew hatred' at haters, I say to you this:

This was not a choice about anything other than hate.
People were offered a choice to hate or not to hate. We in California, got to vote for hate or against it.
We were offered the opportunity to vote for discrimination or against it.
Sadly, the vote for discrimination (or fear?) won.

HOW does prohibiting any deserving person from appreciating the same rights as are afforded to you, NOT promote hate?
I CAN accept that others have different viewpoints, but the irony seems to weigh in heavily on the fact that proposition 8 was all about hating, promoting hatred, and promoting homophobia. And it was all justified under the fallacy of 'protection' for a sacred institution of love.

HOW does disallowing two people in love to be sanctioned and or become a family protect your own veil of superiority?

How can the Mormon church - how can any church - propagate such a movement behind hatred when their own beliefs and doctrine of polygamists' superiority were only reformed when their statehood was at stake?

I don't understand.

You who voted yes on 8 deserve every flipping bird and look of disgust that the internet dishes out to you. You, who went out of your way to hurt others, to promote separatism and bigotry?

I promise you that you are deserving.

Actually, have another one.

Creamy Creaminess

When I was in the early stages of my first pregnancy, the smell of milk made me sick. Really. My brother even claimed that 'milk had no smell' as he made his son some evening ovaltine.
I retched back from the bathroom, "LIAR!"

I was never a big milk drinker, but I could not even say the word 'creamy' without making myself sick.
My brother thought this was hilarious and said things like, "Creamy creamy creaminess mmmm...." all the time that Christmas, proving yet again, which one of us would never actually mature.

Well, I am not pregnant.

So go read all about Horizon's Creamy Creaminess over here.

And, we find out the meaning of 'hubris'

Sarah: I have a special needs child. And I cut funding so he will not be able to go to school!

Dina: You're so against the special interests, that you're not gonna support special education.


This has me laughing so effing hard today.


If you haven't heard, I am lobbying Sarah Benincasa to be my new best friend. Sorry, BOS.

Sunday Link Love

One of Ms. Palin's aides got up in someone's grill about her...you know...discussing her....
“You should be ashamed!” Ivy Frye, the assistant, told her. “Stop blogging. Stop blogging right now!”

It's important to remember, however, that Alaska is a state with a small population. (~650,000)
So let's not blow this 'welcome back parade' for Sarah out of proportion, shall we?


I found this thing attached to my ear today. Yes, I am freaking out, thank you for asking.


Everything else around here is hard to describe.
I either feel like this....or like this.

I'll take that with a side of puppy fries...

I was looking up a recipe for 'dumplings' on Cooks.com, and this is what I found (note the slightly disturbing recipe name sixth down on the list):

RECENT SEARCHES

EVERY FEW MINUTES

COWBOY CASSEROLE GRILLED RED POTATOES CHEESE ROLLS CHICKEN ENCHILADA SHRIMP SCAMPI QUICK EASY MAN STUFFED FRIED CAULIFLOWER COOKED APPLES KIFFLE BASIL PESTO ITALIAN CHRISTMAS COOKIES OLD FASHION TEA CAKES EASY EGGPLANT STEAK IN MUSHROOM SAUCE BEEF BROTH GRAVY HOMEMADE SPAGHETTI SAUCE BROILED CHICKEN BAKED BREADED COD PIZZA PILLSBURY PIZZA DOUGH STRI FRY OATMEAL BUTTERSCOTCH AU GRATIN POTATOES GARLIC STRING BEANS BLUEBERRY DELIGHT PESTO PASTA

Now, I have no idea what 'kiffle' is, and I am pretty sure that stri-fry is Sri Lankan saute dish, but Man Stuffed?

Whoa. Is that legal?
Cause if it is...I have a man....Just sayin....

The Sound of A Pause

When things get quiet over at Gwendomama's shack, it can only mean one of very few things:

1. My fingers were all broken or otherwise rendered unable to type.
2. One or more of my children has had a concussion or worse and I am unable to type (because they are plastered on top of me like jellyfish whenever any little thing goes wrong).
   
3. I am in Hawaii and too blissed out to tell you all about my trip. (Have you been to Hawaii? It can happen.)
4. Some things are too sad, too precarious, or too damn sensitive to write about here.
5. And that really pisses me off.

Fact: Only two of the above five statements are currently true.

This Story is NOT About Unicorns or Rainbows

Supergirl's friend got a duckling for her birthday. It is, as you might imagine, incredibly cute.

(peep, peep, peep, peep, peep, peep)

Her mom said something about having ducklings as a child, but, she said darkly, "It didn't end well."
I nodded, remembering too well a friend's toddler accidentally crushing their baby bunny years ago.
Being a sucker for predictable endings coupled with a just a smidge of horror, I pressed her further.
"Didn't end well?" I raised my eyebrows and dropped my chin, so I was essentially egging her to go on with my skepticism.
"Well....it started at the Library. Our mother told us we could go play around the fountain outside the library while she checked out books. We found a little duckling and started playing with it and when my mom came out we told her we wanted to take it home. Well, we of course were not allowed to bring it home so we put it back in the fountain with it's mother...and then..."
She stopped.
"And THEN?" I prodded her.
"Well...then we watched while the mother pecked it to death and drowned it because we had touched it."
"OH MY GOD THAT IS AWFUL!"
"Well," she went on, "there is more."
I am one sick little puppy because I said, "Oh really? More?" like she was offering me truffles.

"My mother felt so bad about it that soon after, she got us each a baby duckling. But my sister was only two and a half...and...it didn't end well."
"Oh god don't make me beg for the ending," I begged.

"Well....the duckling pecked her on the chin....and she...well...she...just reacted...she...."

"SHE SQUEEZED IT TO DEATH?"

"Umm, no. Not exactly."

She looked around to make sure the little girls were not listening, and lowered her voice.








"She just bit it's head off."