Like There’s a Pinball in my Mind


Do you ever see someone living the same fucked up life that you lived in 20 years ago and want to shake the shit out of them until they realize they are short-changing themselves? Yes. Yes. I am there. And I know it won’t do a damn bit of good to say anything to her because I remember. I remember being that full of hope girl thinking, “I can fix him. Nobody else understands him.” blah, blah, blah. Lather, rinse, repeat. At some point you wake up and realize that it’s not your job to fix somebody or make them happy. That shit is on them. And if you don’t want them to suck the life out of you that you need to go. Related: I saw Sweety stalk out of the house today intent on beating the living shit out of someone and lucky for them that they weren’t in. Argh. Argh. Argh.

There’s a letter on the way to me from Lintball’s lawyer. If I pay him 20k then he will sign his 1/3 of Mom’s house to me. Nevermind that I know there’s no way 1/3 of that house is worth that much. There’s been no appraisal done. That’s just what he wants to go away. I’m going to find out if I own 2/3 of the house if I can rent it out (by rent it out I just mean let someone live there that I trust to keep the lawn mowed) to keep him from coming and going as he pleases and not pay him doodlysquat. The idea of taking out a mortgage on a house in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma sort of makes me feel pukey. I know it’s a completely emotional decision. The dickweed was saying that he was still living there but it turns out that he moved out last November. Bought a house with his fiance (now wife). I found this out in May. As of April, he was telling his lawyer that he still lived there. I hope he dies trapped in a fire. Really.

The Budman is no longer with us. I had to put him to sleep on May 5. Monday. Cinco de Mayo. If I’d have been heartless, I’d have made him wait a day just so it wouldn’t be on a day that would be easy to remember. Something weird? I’d just had him tuned-up for another year and got a new batch of crazy pills for him along with some other stuff. Even with that, he’d seemed more off than normal for a few days. On the Wednesday before, I had a talk with him. Told him it was okay to die. He’d been here long enough and that Mom would be excited to see him and he could put in a good word to let her know that I took excellent care of his grouchy ass. He didn’t eat again after that talk. For about the week prior, I’d been giving him human food as a treat and he wouldn’t even touch that. And he quit barking at all at night after that talk. I buttoned him into bed and he’d still be there when the sun came up. I’d take him out to potty, he’d drink some water like a camel, and I’d put him back in bed. He’d stumble out out of bed a time or two during the day and I’d take him out to potty in the shade because if there was sunlight he’d see his own shadow and it scared him. I wish that I’d have taken him to the vet earlier but he’d gone a couple of days without eating before so I thought he might snap out of it. After it was done on Monday, the vet told me it was the right thing. That no pills would have fixed him. Even though he peed all over the floor and was a cantankerous furball, I really miss him. And now I’m crying again. Yay.

At the end of May a friend came to visit and we went to Cinderella’s castle for lunch. We hauled the Bean along because she’s still young enough to be free. That kid lost her mind when the princesses came out and talked to her. Do you see the crazy shining in those eyes? She reminded me of the look I had on my face when I met Scott Sigler. I guess the crazyeyes are hereditary.

Can you tell she's excited to meet Jasmine?

The first princess to say hi, Aurora.

Notice the knot on her head? Two days before we were at the post office and she was in the middle of her very first full-on tantrum in public. It was just glorious. I was hustling her out of there and holding her hand with one of mine and using my other hand to open the car door. Just as I swung the door open, she broke free and rushed towards the car. Door met head with a solid thud. I think the princesses saw this little dirt urchin with the broke ponytail, lumped up noggin, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tee shirt and deduced that she had a sad life so they needed to be extra nice.

After lunch with the princesses, we made a pitstop in the bathroom. I asked Bean if she had fun and she said yes. Then she said, “Going back to see the princesses!” No, Bean, we aren’t. “Yes. I’m going to uyu with princesses! I love them!” Uyu is what we call nursing. It’s the Korean word for milk. No, Bean. You uyu with Mama, not the princess. Cue tears as the Bean starts wailing that the loves the princesses and wants to uyu with them. Thanks, kid. When I came out and told Sweety what she said he replied that he wanted to uyu with the princesses too.

We’re on Day Six of weaning the Bean. I was going to do the whole baby-led-weaning thing where she weaned herself whenever she was ready but the kid was starting to do some damage with her teeth. She eats an incredible amount of food and takes man-sized shits. (Have I mentioned how happy I am that she’s potty trained? I give thanks every time I flush the toilet instead of strapping a diaper onto her.) She was starting to be a little meanass sometimes when she nursed. It was like she knew it was a way to hold me hostage so she’d be mean while she was nursing. Even if she was being nice her bottom teeth were wrecking me. It was time to stop the madness. Sometimes she begs for uyu. “Please, Mom! Can I uyu?! Just because I want to? Please! Just for one minute!” “I’m mad. I’m angry. I need uyu.” So we go through all of the ways that she’s a big girl who doesn’t need uyu and that we can snuggle in other ways. I think it would have been easier to wean her when she was smaller and couldn’t voice her displeasure so clearly. It’s gotten to where I can usually distract her with a backscratch and a bedtime story and singing her nighttime song until my throat is dry.


In the Sunshine State


Sweet tiny baby Jesus with no fat rolls on his perfect legs…guess what I got today? Chub rub on my thighs. We went to Disney and I wore a dress with comfy flips on my feet. As we were walking in and I was enjoying feeling breezy, I said to Sweety, “Guess what I’m glad of? No pants, bitches! I’m getting some air up here!” Four hours later I was trying to not obviously walk like a cowboy to keep my blistered thighs from touching. Dumbass: I has it.

This morning while we were getting ready for the day, Bean’s Grandma-from-next-door came over to visit a bit. Bean was so happy to see her that all she could do was hug her legs and scream with glee. It tickled me so. Sweety talks all the time about moving from here but I say no. I love it that the Bean has her grandparents right next door. When I was a kid, my grandparents always lived nearby and I loved it. I am so glad that Bean gets that. The damned neighborhood could fall down around us but as long as they live next door we aren’t going anywhere.

You can file this under Creepy Ass Shit: The other night Sweety is in the bathroom supervising the Bean taking a trucker poo. He hollers for me to come in there and his voice sounds weird. Like he’s scared. I go in and ask what’s up. The Bean looks at me with furrowed eyebrows and in a deep voice says, “I’m not Sunny. I’m Chelsey!” I tell her no, she’s Sunny. “I’M NOT SUNNY! I’M CHESLEY! AND I’M GONNA CHASE YOU! I’M GONNA GET YOOOOOU!” While pointing her finger at me. What the actual hell, folks? Know what I did? Shrieked. Ran. Ran right the fuck out of there and locked Sweety in the room with her. That’s the shit you see right before the killing starts in movies and I want zero of that. She’s said a few more times that she’s Chelsey but not as dramatically. No idea where that came from. I will lock a possessed toadler in the closet if need be.

Last weekend we went to California and had a spectacular weekend with Amy‘s family. The Bean had such a great time and was friendly with everyone from the moment we got there. And? Sweety and I got to go on a date with Amy and Mike while their daughter watched Bean! It is highly likely that we drank and ate too much. Mike is a damned grilling wizard. Whenever we leave, I’m always sad because I feel like I didn’t eat enough. I’ve committed myself to eating his amazing beans until I pop next visit. And I’ll set an alarm to wake myself in the night to eat whatever sort of snacky thing and dessert that Amy made that’s leftover. No shame. There will be no shame involved. I”m gonna eat a metric ton but I’ll do it like a lady.


it’s Not My First Rodeo


When the boys were young (and still now, sometimes), I had a rule of never telling them before we were going somewhere fun just in case I changed my mind. As in, they did something to act like little fools so I’d decide to not do whatever and they didn’t know about it so they couldn’t whine about it.

I made the mistake of not following this rule with Bean. We are going to visit friends in a couple of days and we’ve been looking at their photos for days and talking about what she will do while we’re there. I thought that would make her feel more comfortable once we got there. What I got what a shrieking at the top of her lungs Bean today. We had just gotten into the truck and she asked where we were going. She did not like my answer and the wailing commenced. “No Walgreen’s! Caaaaaaliforrrrnia! Drive me to California in the truck! Now! Drive in the truck California!” What the fuck, kid? Seriously? People, this shit went on for too long. Nothing I said calmed her down. She finally gave up on life and slumped into a silent sweaty snotty heap.

Sometimes I think about welding her carseat into the bed of the truck.

Lesson learned. Don’t tell her shit in advance.


Brain Dump


Holy crap. It’s been 2 months since I wrote that last post.

I finally called the lawyer day before yesterday. Someone in OK told me that it looked like Mom’s house was empty and was starting to get rundown. I saw photos of the place and yes, it definitely looks uninhabited. Coincidentally, the day after I call OK to snoop around, Lintball showed up at the house and dropped a trailer off, mowed the lawn, pulled up falling down fences and left the lights on in the house before leaving. My fervent wish is that this piece of shit isn’t a big enough dumbass to try and lie and say that he still lives there. I don’t feel like exerting the energy that I would be compelled to in that case. Our lawyer is contacting his to find out the status of probate and said that I should know something within a week. If his lawyer doesn’t respond within a week. We shall see. What we’d like to happen is my sister or I or both of us together buy out Lintball and fix the house up. I’d rather fix it up and give it to someone than let it sit there and fall down. It embarrasses me that the neighbors Mom had for over 30 years are having to look at an eyesore.

The elephant in the room that hit us in July of 2012? Still here. In a nutshell, Sweety remembered some really fucked up shit that happened to him as a kid. He’s still remembering bits and pieces. The therapist said that he finally remembered it because he was at such a good place in life. Nice family life. New baby. Things are going great! Brain said, “Hey, I think you have the support you need to know about this now!”. Isn’t that finer than hair on a frog’s ass?

We spent over a year never sleeping in the same room because he was so hot when he sleeps that the air conditioner in there was cranked down to frozen. Apparently that’s a symptom of shock. Your body doesn’t rest when you sleep. We’ve decided it’s okay to just sleep where ever we feel like now. The sleep-talking that he’s had the past couple of years that has been really crazy? A sort of split-personality thing. Since he spends all day long trying to not think about what his mind is remembering, it comes out when he’s tired. He’s always been a sleep-talker but this has been some new shit. Not just funny stuff. Stuff that freaks me the fuck out. Sometimes he will spend hours talking and then I’ll get up and eat a cake at 4 a.m. to soothe myself. Sometimes it’s like living in a tornado here. And sometimes it’s so normal here that it surprises the shit out of me when it’s suddenly not normal.

Sweety has asked me why on earth I stay with him. I told him that our marriage was really awesome all of the time for 11 years so I know we can get back to it. It’s already better here than it was even a year ago. To keep his mind from dwelling on shit, he has taken to doing mundane things. Like pulling up all of the grass in the backyard by fucking hand to prepare it for sod. I told him that I was sure there was some sort of tool that would be helpful but he said he liked doing it by hand because his mind was blank while he pulled. I am pissed the fuck off that someone did shit so awful to him that it’s scrambling his brain at 45 years old.

Today is the 13th anniversary of when Sweety and I went on our first date. It’s been one hell of a ride but I’m glad to be on it.