Beach Day: Happy Spring!

Unsilenced

I have been having these particularly disturbing recurring dreams. In these dreams, I am pulling sticky gum? or tar?, or gritty-pebbly putty out of my mouth.

Although I pull it out in clumps and strings, I can't get it all out; I wake up worrying about dental disasters (which is not a completely abstract concept, considering reality), although these dreams do not coincide with any Real Dental Disasters.


Everything I have researched about this type of dream has pointed to the fact that I am feeling or being silenced.
I may be allowing this, but I have been silenced. I have chosen to be allowed to be silenced.

Okay. I will investigate this.

These dreams are stifling me.
They are silencing me.

I have a problem with being silenced.
And yes, I have a problem with being controlled, after taking many careful steps to reclaim my own life.

I will not be silenced.

Which is why I am putting myself back online.

Why I took myself 'offline' is another story, and that will have to wait.

Ummm...Okay, so I lied.

We had been talking about it for a while...if the right (free, siamese) kitteh came along...

And lo! There were sisters!

Don't panic, we're not keeping both of them...and yes!

We have access to vet care!

My niece is visiting and it's all her fault I came home with a kitteh we decided to partner up in this crime of early birthday present for Supergirl....with the added bonus of supercousins having sister kitties....

We have a few days to decide which is the best match, but I am placing bets on the one we call 'Sassy'. Any guesses why?

You could never have said no to that face either.

Verizon Disney App Adventure; Part 1

Remember that secret I may have leaked a teeny tiny bit once or twice?

Yeah, that one.

Well...I was actually working while I was there so don't tell anyone how much fun I really had. I didn't think I would personally enjoy going to Disneyland as much as I would enjoy watching my kids have fun in Disneyland, but well....okay. I liked the mouseland, ALRIGHT??? Can we just keep this between us? Okay, you, me and Verizon.

Verizon?
Yes, Verizon. I was offered the opportunity by my friend, David Hoffman to try out a new Verizon application for Disneyland, and put it to the Gwendomama challenge. I had no idea what I was doing with either the app or Disneyland, because I (shhhhh) am was a Disneyland virgin, and if you saw how many keys were missing from my laptop you would easily and correctly assume my lack of technical snobbery or expertise. But I do love to have fun, and so not only did I accept the challenge...I agreed to be filmed while trying it. (As long as I could say whatever I wanted, whenever.)



I may or may not have been drunk crazed when I agreed to the filming part, but my friends hid the evidence and held me to my agreement.
Okay, I totally made that last part up because I hate the sound of my own voice and can't believe I agreed to be filmed. Why on earth would I talk about getting drunk in the same paragraph I mention Disneyland? This is a family blog. And Disneyland is ALL about the family fun and NOT AT ALL about endorsing drinking heavily. Unless you count Goofy.

First I was all, "Why do I need a special application on my phone to navigate Disneyland?" But nobody could hear me because they were all chatting away on their bluetooth devices. So I shouted, "WHY CAN'T I JUST USE THE PARK PROVIDED MAP?" and looked down to find my instantly discarded to the stroller map being mutilated by my small child. That was easy. Now I knew why, and also made a mental note to not allow the phone near said small child.

Turning on the phone, I found the 'Disney Mobile Magic' app and as soon as it loaded, it found me too! "Look!! It found us!!" I told Heidi, excitedly, "Look! That circle is us!!"
So yes, it knew where we were instantly. Which I find both awesome and creepy. I kept looking over my shoulder to see if someone was shining the circle on us and following us around with a laser dot. I told you, I am not very technical.
Despite my admonitions to 'go before we leave the hotel room', Heidi immediately needed a bathroom. We had just walked onto Main Street, USA, and the kids were overwhelmed with the dazzling Disney eye candy, so we could hardly see signs for a bathroom.
OH! The APP!!

'Mobile Magic' opened, I selected 'Guest Services' from the main menu and the first sub-option to pop up was 'restrooms'...which? Was awesome. Without moving from that spot, we located the subtly labeled and previously invisible bathroom directly behind us within about 40 seconds. Which means that Disney and Verizon are totally fine with you being too lazy to do it the old fashioned way by walking around and looking. And that? Again, awesome.

Right away, Bubbles wanted to meet Mickey. Since he is not a kid likely to be shy of giant masked friendly rodents (as his sister would have been) I was sort of excited to get him to Mickey ASAP. I went to the 'Characters' selection on the app, and just as I was telling Heidi that 'it says he should be right here in Main Street Plaza at 8:40' I looked up from my teeny tiny alluring screen to see a line forming directly in front of me. For Mickey. Right there, at Main Street Plaza.
Correct again, Mobile Magic!

Okay, with the bathroom stop and the meeting of Mickey under our mommy belts, we were ready to attack the meatier subjects at hand: Rides.
"WE WANT TO FIND NEMO!!"
Oh cool, now I was feeling useful! I whipped out the phone again, clicked on 'Attractions', looked for Finding Nemo's Submarine Voyage, and located it on the map to find how to get there from where we were.
Ready for the best part of all?
What's everyone's least favorite part of Disneyland?

.............(' -----take a moment--------')...............

Yes, we all agree.
Waiting in lines.
(That link, by the way has some great tips.)

This app updates every few minutes to tell you what the wait time is on any given ride.
There are other ways of finding out the wait times for rides; you can, alternatively walk to the kiosk in Main Street Plaza at any time and receive the updated wait times for any ride. And I encourage you to search ahead of time, which attractions you want to see and what you want to prioritize
But if you are roaming in the park nowhere near Main Street, and want to check the wait time of any ride at all in any area of the park, the app is going to save you some time.

While we were trying to find Nemo, we saw some rockets.
"WE WANT TO GO ON THE WOCKETS!!"
We were at Disneyland. Where world famous pirates and animatronic adorable small singing children abound, but our kids wanted wockets.
Whatever.
Wockets won.
And off to the wockets rockets we went.
And we were ready for more action.

We found Nemo just where the app said we would, but after our long and tiring submarine voyage, it was time for food.
Out came the phone, and since I was becoming pretty adept at using it, I bragged that I could find anything anyone wanted to eat. Which, with small children, translated into 'quick service and near- instant gratification'. Within a moment we had located a place to eat just yards away from us. My only complaint about this feature is that it showed me every kind of cuisine available from African to Thai food, but not one category was labeled 'coffee' or 'cafe'. If Disney wants me to chase my kids around in their park all day long, the coffee would help.

Something I didn't get to try out but found highly appealing was the 'set alerts' option for the 'Events' option. I tend to get distracted with my kids' involvement and may forget something in which they had earlier expressed interest. For instance, the parade. I could go to the 'Parade' label in 'Events' and set an alert on the phone so that, ten minutes before the parade (or whatever 'Event' I chose) the phone would ring and remind me.

Verizon certainly has a cutting edge product for Disney fans and park goers, and, with any brand new product, there are many suggestions for how to improve it. Droid users will be disappointed to find out that the Mobile Magic Application is not yet available to them.

Personally, I was pretty happy with the features of the app, but the Chocolate phone I was using would shut the app down every time I closed the phone and put it in my pocket. Sadly, this is just the nature of flip phones or phones which close.
I suggested a 'kid tracking application' to Verizon - useful in any situation in the prevention of lost children. If I can have all the benefits of GPS, I want a tiny receiver which I can clip on to my four year old's shirt or pants, activate with my phone, and keep track of him should he stray from my side. I am sure they will get right on that. (HELLO? Really nice guy from Verizon- are you listening?)

All in all?
I had more fun than I thought I would at Disneyland, I am now far more technically savvy than I was before using this app (and phone, for that matter) - so savvy, in fact, that you should hire me to teach you really important technical colored things . My only complaint is that Disney did not control the weather, and we spent one full day of our 2-day pass, drying our soaked shoes and socks over the heater and huddled in the motel room watching cable Disney channel.

My very last tip to you? Choose a motel with a hot tub. Because then, even if you get caught in the only freezing, pouring rainstorm of the year, you can get warm and keep children who are entertained by warmth and water happy.





This post was created voluntarily to record the events which were filmed by David Hoffman. I was not paid to write this post, nor was any other party able to edit the final publication.

Because Some Secrets Can't Wait to Be Shared....

Family Court Gives Me Ennui

The family court system is broken. Shocker.

'Don't say anything negative about the other parent to a mediator' I have been told. Why would I say anything negative? The interview is about the children, right? All I want is for him to get some counseling like the rest of the family. I told her that I supported the recommendations of the therapist, but if he would agree to ongoing counseling, perhaps there was less immediate need for a psych evaluation? I want to know that he is helping himself so the kids can see him again regularly. I told her I have no desire or intention of keeping them apart unnecessarily. I want to know that he understands that depression doesn't just go away on it's own, and that nobody can deal with the death of a child on his own. He broke. It was serious. I have compassion for these issues. Compassion is positive; I want to move forward, not back!
A psych evaluation will show us, however, the real potential in that desire becoming a reality.

The interviewer never asked more than two questions about our children to me. Instead, she sat in front of me, sighed, and said, "I am required by law to give you this domestic violence questionnaire." And then she proceeded to do so. She asked about the incident in April and any threats made in our history. Then she finally asked where our children go to school and how they are doing emotionally. That last part took about five minutes. For five minutes she heard me talk about our children, then cut me off.
Seems to me that it would be very difficult to say nothing at all negative about a person when being questioned about how he hurt you (a document she could have looked up - his own police statement) and what he was yelling at you while he did.
I told her, "He can be a good father - there was a time he was a good father! He loves his children."

Do you think she told him that?

She wrote that he denies the incident happened the way I describe, and that he believes I planned the assault, in order to gain control of the children. (Again, I defer to the police report.)

Does it sometimes seem that there are more problems caused to all parties when someone erroneously suggests that the family should then spend another few thousand dollars to further incite and inflame this situation? Let us review a portion of the California Family Code, section 3044:

"(e) When a court makes a finding that a party has perpetrated
domestic violence, the court may not base its findings solely on
conclusions reached by a child custody evaluator or on the
recommendation of the Family Court Services staff, but shall consider
any relevant, admissible evidence submitted by the parties."

That makes sense. I would love to see it come to a reality.
I don't see here, in our specific situation, where our children are being addressed. How does bleeding the parents dry serve to consider our children first and foremost?

Just sayin.

Chocolate Sushi (will win you friends and influence people)

Re-posted because my favorite foodie site published this today!! (And because I wanted to feel all kinds of fabulous today.)




I am so freaking clever, can I just say that?

Yes, I can.

When I heard about this place, I knew that I had found god. The thing is, I don't think god is always a good place for me to visit -I tend to the obsessive side, and becoming chummy could only lead to one thing: becoming too chummy.

Once I knew where the house of god was, I could be at serious risk of becoming a god-stalker. Better not to go there.

So, even though I was near this crazy chocolate-works-of-art shop the other day, I did not drag my children along to visit god's temple of chocolate. Because truthfully, I would be a bitch-mama to take my sugar-obsessed girl and my chocolate-worshipping toddler into a store where individual pieces of chocolate are $10 to $15. ("NO! NO!" "NOnono!" "NO! NO! NO!")

So, I didn't.

But that didn't stop my obsession with chocolate sushi. And the possibilities. Oh no, not in the least. I wanted to see what other amateurs like myself were pulling off.

And then I decided to devote an entire afternoon to it attempt it in my very own humble kitchen. (Did I mention it was about 95 degrees today?)

Chocolate was the goal, so the 'nori' wrapper had to be chocolate - not electric green 'fruit' leather. I decided to go with a chocolate modeling 'clay' (reminiscent of my preschool teaching days), which is really just whatever quality chocolate you choose, melted and mixed with corn syrup.

MODELING CHOCOLATE:
one 12oz bag semisweet choc chips

1/3 cup+2T corn syrup

melt chocolate over double boiler, let cool a bit and stir in corn syrup. wrap tightly and refrigerate to desired consistency. knead and roll into desired shapes.

I didn't like the marshmallow fluff mixed with coconut idea as much as I liked the rice crispy treat filling. I also thought that the chocolate would be easier to roll around something more firm. I made a basic recipe and omitted one cup of cereal so that it might be more willing to give in to my rolling pin with more marshmallow goodness binding it all together.

I then took handfuls globs of that and rolled it out (between waxed paper) to about 1/4 inch thickness. Or maybe it was more like 1/2 inch. I am not good with estimates.

I had just gone strawberry picking (I made jam; yes I did - suck on that martha) and decided that strawberries would be a good filling in place of hamachi. And it would probably taste better too - with the chocolate and all. Dried apricots or mango would look super too, but I only had fresh strawberries, so I was going with the full-on raw tuna look.

So, I divided my big wad of chocolate dough in half, rolled one piece out between wax paper (the kitchen was out of parchment), continually peeling it off one side and dropping it onto the other side, until it was very thin, but thick enough to handle. I found that if it gets too thin, it will spread (instead of roll) over the crispy treats and perhaps (ack!) break.

I measured an actual pack of square nori sheets over the chocolate and cut a nice square line doing the same with the rolled out crispy treats, making sure that the chocolate 'nori' was longer than the 'rice' on the sealing end of the roll. Then I laid the thin slices of strawberries, some snipped up blueberry filled marshmallows, and some slivers of garden mint down the center closer to the rolling end, and, using a fresh piece of the wax paper to help, rolled it up very tight.

After refrigerating to firm them up, I cut them into approximately 1/2 inch slices. I resisted many poop jokes in front of my daughter. The rolls cut easily with our sharpest knife - but would they really end up looking anything like sushi?

After arranging them on the platter to bring to the neighbors potluck (where they would impress the fuck out of everyone until the posse of young unwatched children happened to descend upon them like a swarm of teenaged hyenas and annihilate them in 30 seconds) (I am not judging. But if my kid was like, 7 or 8 years old and went all berzerk at the dessert table and loaded up on 5 brownies and 6 cookies and 7 chocolate sushis, well I would get a little whoop-ass on her. She should know about that shit whether I am there to police her or not. Oh wait, she does. And she's not even 6 yet. I'm just sayin.), I decided at the last minute to add two details for authenticity's sake. Because I was still just a
little bit worried that perhaps nobody would understand that I was going for a mock sushi. I colored some sugar orange and sprinkled it on some of the rolls, to (hopefully) resemble tobiko, or, fish eggs. Mmm, delicious...fish eggs-n-chocolate!
And, I decided that a 'dipping sauce' would be nice, so I thinned out some dark chocolate sauce (who knew that dove choc sauce lasts at least 7 months longer than your ice cream?!) and poured it into a little sauce bowl. Later (after I was done taking pictures, of course), I tossed some sesame seeds on top of the chocolate sauce. This appeared to really throw people for a loop. They wanted to dip it in the chocolate sauce - they knew it was really chocolate sauce, but it looked like soy sauce. And, just having gotten over the 'is it rawfreakingfish or is it strawberry' thing, it was a huge leap of faith to dip your chocolate sushi roll in that sauce. It was fun to watch, though.

Does it look authentic? It tasted awesome.

Thursday, August 13th: The day my mountain caught on fire...Again.

The Fire.

What can I say? I had hit my very personal emotional wall the night before. Not wanting to be his neighbor; with him insisting on being my neighbor. The person who 'didn't do anything wrong', even though I have clear memory of that person choking me twice. One person can only take so much, right?
I crumpled into a ball of someone who has had to take too much; I tripped over an upended basket of toys I had just cleaned up, then I threw a toy at a basket. Hard. Bubbles noticed and cried, "No Mommy!", I gathered him into my arms and cried. Parenting Fail.

Bubbles likes closure. We have gone through the following process nearly every day for a week now:

Mama, say sorry for throwing my toy.
Bubbles, I am sorry for throwing your toy. I was feeling very sad and it was wrong.
It's okay Mama, it's not your fault.
(Really, it is, but thanks, sweet thing.)
The end.
(Repeat.)

We read some books (Supergirl was on a sleepover), snuggled and fell asleep early that night. I dreamed of helicopters.

5:30 am, Thursday August 13th: Voluntary evacuation phone call.
WHAT??? Apparently there had been a fire raging nearby for nearly 12 hours. I cursed my broken wifi router for its crappy timing.

10:30 am: Mandatory evacuation phone call.

11:00 am: Giggling inappropriately at the act of packing my baby's ashes in a box, for the second time in 14 months, to rescue them from a fire.
After packing 'The Important Stuff', I hit a wall of 50% indecisiveness, 50% ennui. I had no idea what, nor desire to pack anything more.

12:00 noon: I lock the children inside because the smoke is getting bad. Also, they have taken to shoving random things into the car such as individual crayons and tubes of yogurt.

1:30 pm: First visit from the Sheriff. "Sign this or leave," they said.
"We're just looking for the cat..."

2:45 pm: Second visit from the Sheriff. "Sign this or leave," they said.
"We're just looking for the cat..."
"Sign this or leave," they repeated. I nod.


2:55 pm: Telling my eight year old to say goodbye to her house and most of her belongings.
Leaving our ten year old siamese cat, Ocean, behind - because she ran off, presumably afraid of the sudden influx of air traffic.
3:00pm: "Say goodbye to the house," I said.
"Goodbye, house," they both called.
"Say goodbye to Ocean," I choked out.
"Goodbye, Ocean Kitty!" they both shouted, loud enough for any ornery cat with a shred of sense to hear.

We drove off into the smoke, our car crammed full of chickens and ashes and papers and small plastic objects which my children somehow found meaningful and had shoved into the remaining crevices.

5:00 pm: Moving around slowly, the chickens delivered to a chicken foster home (procured by dear veterinarian friends), unsure which move to make next. I knew I had to pick up the recently discharged laptop, so 'stopped by' to visit the friend who lived a block away from there, as she had been one of the nine people who had called me while packing.
Heidi's house had burned down 18 months ago, unrelated to either fire, but she and her (documentary filmmaker) husband lost everything in 1/2 of their house/office; every archive and each and every layer of thought from which it was collected and compiled.
Her response was that of a seasoned friend and refugee.
Her first comment was, "You know you are welcome to stay here, okay? You know that, right? Whatever you need."
Her first question asked was, "I am going to the store. What kind of alcohol can I bring you?"

We stopped by on Thursday and left four days later. Their kindness, our similarly aged and ironically compatible children, their intuitively perfected assistance...their patience with our inherently early vs. late scheduled kids....all added up to the best spontaneous vacation evacuation possible.


One week later: Listening to my three year old tell the story over and over, to anyone who will listen.
"The fire not burned the house! The smoke make mama sick! The cat gone, but she okay! The fire not burn my house!"

We're going home today, to face the endless cleaning of ash and restocking of walls and shelves. I will ponder each item....should I return it to where it was, or should I just pack it up, for we all feel like leaving this place.

We are whole, but we are scarred. We have all had enough.

Breakfast of Champions (always includes cookies)

Seriously, how do I get this lucky?

Across the street from the children's therapist is a local tradition, and Supergirl and I got to share a breakfast like this today:

Coffee (for me), The Duke (cream cheese, raspberry jam, toasted cashews) (for me), plain cream cheese on salt bagel (for Supergirl) and a domino cookie (for Supergirl).

And This Is a Day I 'Don't Work...'

5:51 am - Wake up to Bubbles plaintively issuing his morning credo, "Mama. No say 'no ootine milk'! I want ootine milk.:
5:52 - remind Bubbles for the 18th time that no, I will not get him ootine milk because it is too early.
5:53 - Tell Bubbles that ootine milk has sugar bugs which will get on his teeth.
5:54 -6:18 - Repeat above statements until, after thrashing and protesting, Bubbles finally sobbingly settles on a pathetic bottle of water and falls back asleep.
8:25 - Wake up in panic that I must be at work early. Wrong day. Children both conspicuously asleep....hmmm. Try to sleep more.
8:31 - Unsuccessful with more sleep, turn to the idea of fresh pressed coffee as antidote.
8:32 - Sneak the ootine milk upstairs for the prince to find upon his awakening and lord save us all this morning.
8:45 - Enjoy OMG yum Steve's French with copious half&half and check email.
9:00 - Supergirl is up and ready for business.
9:02 - Cereal and toast with jam for Supergirl.
9:03 - More coffee and creamy toppers for mama.
9:04 - 9:24 Supergirl and I chat and I respond to emails until Bubbles wakes up (happily, because the ootine is there).
9:24 - 9:28 Chase Bubbles around the house with clothes and put them on his body.
9:30 - Brush teeth of Bubbles; attempt to brush his crazy hair but usually only one thing gets brushed on Bubbles at a time.
9:34 - Hand Bubbles some breakfast: juice, vitamins, and cereal in the car, as I buckle him into his carseat to go to speech therapy over in Beach Town.
9:35 - Beep horn for Supergirl to stop brushing her hair and get in the car already!
10:05 - Arrive at speech therapy five minutes late.
10:10 - Back into the car with Supergirl to run errands (boring hardware store and then, if there is no whining, a croissant!).
10:51 - SUCCESS! Croissant!
10:59 - Arrive at speech therapy just in time.
11:04 - Back in car, drive back to downtown for kids' counseling.
11:30 - Drop off child #1 for therapy while kid #2 and I get bagels across the street.
12:20 - Pick up child #1 and drop off child #2 for therapy.
12:25 - Take child #1 to nearby favorite park for some exercise and playtime.
12:26-12:46 - Try, unsuccessfully to do some coursework for school.
12:46 - Give up and chase child #1 around park and spin her on spinning things.
1:05 - Walk back to therapist office to retrieve child #2.
1:12 - Buckle up everyone, it's time for Trader Joe's now.
1:20 - 2:00 - Shop and argue with Supergirl about treats.
2:06 - Drive back up mountain.
2:07 -2:27 - Lively car conversation with such topics as: marriage, divorce, apologies, and consequences. And ear piercing.
2:28 - Pick up Supergirl's playdate.
3:00 - Finally back home.
3:01 - There is begging for treats. Much begging.
3:07 -Quiet now, as they consume sandwiches in order to win treats.
3:15 - Popsicles are dispensed, kids sent outside.
3:16 - Realize, as popsicles are returned to freezer, that the freezer isn't frozen. In fact, the whole fridge is dead.
3:18 - Hand out the rest of the popsicles.
3:20 - 3:30 - Clean out old fridge in garage.
3:30-4:00 - Shuttle salvageable food from giant magnet holder in my kitchen to working fridge in garage.
4:01 - Realize that there is a conference call for my class tomorrow for which I was supposed to have put in 3 hours of study time.
4:02 - Have a tiny little cry.
4:03 - 4:30 - Play on trampoline with Bubbles; attempt super stealth speech therapy techniques.
4:31-4:35 - Convince Supergirl and her friend to walk the full garbage cans up to the top of the road with me (Bubbles needs no coaxing).
4:38 - Get bribed (we'll rake! we'll fold clothes for you!) to take kids to the school playground.
5:20 - Come home, start dinner. Oops. Half the food spoiled in the freezer demise. What will we eat?
5:45 - Dinner: Cream-cheesy eggs, bacon, francese toast with homemade strawberry jam, watermelon and peaches. Side of carrots offered to appease my guilt.
6:10 - Send children outside to have adult phone call.
6:12 - phone call interrupted by chicken chasing.
6:14 -Phone call resumes.
6:16 - Phone call interrupted by Bubbles latest splinters.
6:17 Phone call resumes.
6:21 - Phone call aborted after chased chicken runs in house and poops in living room.
6:35 - Water new plants.
6:41 - Discover the fresh mud that the kids tracked in through house. Decide to water plants later.
6:45 - Playdate's mom arrives to collect her.
6:50 - Kids in bath.
6:51 - Vacuum. Again.
6:54 - Wash kids' hair.
6:58 - Hand out towels, drain tub.
6:59 - 7:15 - Dinner dishes.
7:16 - For the last time, we are out of popsicles, remember?
7:18 - PLEASE PICK OUT A MOVIE
7:19 - Attempt to pay bills.
7:21 - Change the movie.
7:25 - Requests for popcorn shall be answered.
7:30 - Popcorn delivered.
7:31 - Whining admonished (too bad you don't like nutritional yeast. eat the popcorn or don't.)
7:35 - MAMA - BUBBLES DUMPED THE POPCORN...
7:36 - 7:40 - Vacuum. Again.
7:41 - No, you may not have more popcorn. Or chocolate. No.
7:42 - Open Big House Red. Pour.
7:45 - Try to do some coursework. This is a multi-step process.
7:48 - Have all notes, CD's DVD's, laptop and piano keyboard ready.
7:52 - PLEASE LET ME DO THIS FOR JUST TWENTY MINUTES PLEASE!!!
8:00 - (pause) MAMA! I want OOTINE MILK!
8:02 - (play) Resume....
8:03, 8:05, and 8:06 - Ignore phone calls.
8:07 - (pause) Phone again. Answer. I've got nothing but love for the relentless caller.
8:08 - (play) Resume....
8:11 - MAMA! Bubbles peed on the floor!!
8:11 - (pause) Run out of house and hide in the garage for three minutes.
8:14 - Clean up Bubbles. And his pee.
8:20 - Brush kiddos teeth.
8:24 - Tell Supergirl to wash her hands again after putting the chickens to bed.
8:30 - Lights out and blankets for rest of movie.
9:04 - JACKPOT! Bubbles passed out on couch, transfer to bed.
9:05 - 9:12 - Read one book to Supergirl and tell her she can read for 1/2 hour (it's Summertime!)
9:12-9:30 - Clean bathroom next door and clean out some cupboards. Wonder why he saved 23 empty shampoo bottles.
9:30-9:45- (play) Resume.
9:46- (pause) Turn off lights for Supergirl.
9:46-9:50 Snuggle; fight sleep.
9:51 - 10:02 - Make lesson plans for tomorrow's music classes, for tomorrow is a Work Day. You know, unlike today.
10:02 - 10:40 - Enjoy late night and very humorous phone conversation with the BOS.
10:45 - Load up car with instruments, keyboards, drums, parachute, CDs and lesson plans.
10:50 - Pack breakfast snacks for the kids who will most likely try to sleep later than I need to leave.
10:59 - Attempt to write but give up and read blogs instead.
11:21 - Brush, wash, snuggle, sleep.

Prepare to repeat.


(Other than the fact that child support would be awesome.....we're managing just fine....)

Tongue-Biting FAIL

Trying to bite my tongue here, but seriously being tested.
He won't move his stuff out - basically refuses to get his things - which makes no sense to me as I am being beyond patient and what does he plan on doing with them if they are there?
And why the refusal to move out? Does he think he can store his things here for three years and then....come back? Does he not understand that if he doesn't do this willingly he is only asking for more conflict?
I don't get it.
I do know that it's a big EFF YOU to the court to list your contact address as the one from which you have been ordered to stay away, and as my friend says, "Let me pull another little bit of shock and surprise out of my ass!"
But for a man who claims to be doing 'everything possible' to see his kids, I wonder if he really gets what is going on for them?
Does he understand that because of his arrogance and delusion and refusal to cooperate or list an address is reason enough for his daughter to lose playdates? Does he realize that three parents have said to me that Supergirl is welcome to play at their house, but because of the volatile situation and the mystery of his whereabouts, they will not allow their children to come to our house. Explain that one to your daughter. And tell her she means the world to you as you share your own agenda and ignore hers. Because there is no other agenda.

I am so disgusted.

This Drama is Brought to You by My Girlie Bits

Let's just start with some simple facts today. You can put them together in a story however you wish.

• This time of year is always, in some form, anxiety-provoking for Gwendomama. This is in contrast to me the rest of the time; though some would consider me high-strung, there isn't too much that rattles me to the core. Other than this time of year sometimes, I guess.
• I almost always put off going to the doctor for anything, unless it is for my children, and this is compounded by my high pain threshold.
• I do not have a companion who shows his concern for me through outward gestures. Or emotional displays of support. Left to my own devices, I am capable of taking a weak moment and turning it into impending doom.
• I do have a companion who believes that all illness and pain is caused by stress and/or weakness.
  
• I have spent the past three weeks worrying about my symptoms, which are the exact same symptoms of ovarian cancer. Oh DAMN YOU, Dr. Google! In case you didn't know, ovarian cancer is known as a 'silent killer' because of its vague symptoms.
• It has been four months since I had a period. Oh shuddup, who wouldn't feel like they were having a secret vacation (for the first two....)?
• No, I am not pregnant. I know how to pee on a stick.
  
• I was told I would have to wait over a month for an appointment at Women's Health Center, where the cost would be minimal. (Cooter card)
  
• Of course my symptoms became worse. Waiting is not my strength. But, not being a wussy, I did recognize that I was having real pain. On my freaking ovaries. And it wasn't going away by my sheer will alone.
• I read too many pieces of misinformation about non-cancerous ovarian cysts not causing any pain or symptoms.
  
• I convinced myself that I could only have one thing: Terminal Cancer.
• Who the fuck isn't afraid of that? But I cried myself awake each insomnia-filled night with pain and the impending doom that would befall my children. Surely Supergirl's childhood didn't deserve to include the loss both a brother and mother?
• When I completely break down, I will then sometimes ask for a favor.
• I asked Ob-Gyn friend (from other office in other town) to HELP me PLEASE because I could not wait another 2 weeks for the appointment which would be covered.
• She, being about 62% saintly, offered to squeeze me in (past billing) on a busy day to monkey wand me and check it all out.
• I freaked out some more, having convinced myself that I have cancer, and sure that I am about to find out some horrible prognosis.
• Maybe if I would spend some more time reading the blogs of PEOPLE I KNOW and less time reading DR. GOOGLE I would have had an easier time....
• The BOS proved herself to be a great friend yet again, by not only driving three hours (each way!) to accompany me to my monkey wand appointment, but also by asking Ob-Gyn friend distracting questions such as, "So, I was wondering....how do you spell pus-y? I mean it can't be p-u-s-s-y, because that just isn't right." ...so I wouldn't concentrate so much on the condom-covered camera getting all friendly with my ovaries.
• My parts look almost good but not quite.
• My ovaries appear to be the host to some cysts who are ornery and causing me grief and pain.
  
• Apparently, non-cancerous cysts CAN cause pain.
  
• I think anything foreign on my ovaries sounds painful.
• We do not know for sure that everything is okay.
• I need another, higher-resolution ultrasound (hopefully the tech won't ask me to umm....'put it in myself' because in that case I may just bring dh) (awkward).
• BUT the cysts appeared (on the low-res ultrasound) to be simple, which is better than complex.
  
• This does not necessarily explain the hormonal imbalance, but the battery of blood tests ordered yesterday should help shed some light on that mystery.
• Hormone therapy and/ or laparascopy if the cysts are benign.
  
• So much to look forward to.....
• I think I need an annual springtime prescription to Ativan.

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.

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!)

Gross Factor: High

Before I headed down to SLO this weekend, I told my friend Joanne (who hates when I give her a 'boring' pseudonym like 'Jan') that I would take a picture of bubble gum alley for her.

My friend, the BOS, grew up in SLO and when she moved there as a teenager, the gum was just up at the highest reachable row. Then the film crew from That's Incredible showed up in town to cover the gum alley, and pretty soon stores downtown all had bubblegum machines and the walls got covered.

I think Joanne sort of believed me when I told her about it, but the fear factor of imagining your four year old walking down an alley and plucking a piece of gum off the wall to pop into his mouth creates such a gag reflex that her imagination really couldn't take her any farther.

"It's pretty gross," I told her, "It smells kind of like minty juicy fruit and spit."

She responded by throwing up.

Both walls of the alley, ground to top, are covered with gum.

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.

Guess Which Parent Will be Handling the Birds and Bees Talk?

Me: Did you open that package from Amazon?

Dh: No. What package?

Me: The one right here which is opened. This one.

Dh: What is it?

Me: This book for Supergirl.

Dh: WHAT?

Me: Well, when I was in first grade, Trina Brown told me that to have a baby, the dad has to pee inside the mom.

Dh: Trina Brown was a precocious, misinformed slut.

Me: Well, I don't want Supergirl to think that is true.

Dh: You seem to have come around. How did you figure it out?

Me: I came home and asked my mom if it was true. She gave me a book and we read it together.

Dh: OHMYGOD.

Me: Look, just because your parents were from the dark ages doesn't mean that's the right way to do it. She asked about sex.

Dh: SHE ASKED ABOUT SEX? OH MY GOD WHEN???

Me: Well, not you. I don't think she'd ask you. Just last week. So I ordered the book.

Dh(thumbing through book): But there are just so many pictures in this book. But they are all so hairy in this book.

Me: Look, that's because it is from 1977. Do you want Supergirl to think she has to have a Brazilian?

Dh: OH MY GOD SHUT UP!! DON'T SAY THAT!!! OH MY GOD I CANNOT THINK ABOUT THAT!!!

Me: Well, get over it. Here look at this. Just read the book.

Dh: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I AM TRAUMATIZED FOR LIFE!!!!

Me: Why?

(I grab the book from him and see what page put him over the edge.)

Yes, this was it.
I think it might be time for me to have The Talk...with him.

(Sorry honey, it's Nablopomo, when anything you say, can and will be used for blogging.)

I Totally Rock. (Or: Sunday link love goes the other way sometimes, baby!)

Oh, this proves that there is a goddess out there who believes in the magic of my super special original equation of:

motherhood+beer+cupcakes+domesticPoseur+deadbaby+bleedingheartliberal+(appreciation of corn vomit, the re-release of native spider monkeys into the city of Phoenix, the word cunt, and other controversial issues) = getting a spotlight on the Houston Chronicle.

HA! SUCK ON THAT, TP! (you know who you are. toilet paper, that's who!)

Oh, and HIGH ALERT, Kelley!

I RAWK!!!













Okay, I can't go away on a Sunday without offering you one more linky.
This is a political joke that even my not-quite three year old got!