proof that I’ve already lost it

How the heck could I forget to mention that tucked inside of this month is my youngest sister’s wedding?

In Pennsylvania?

On Middle Man’s bday weekend?

Love ya, Toad, really. But Middle Man’s ticked off at you.

So add in that and, well, it’s a busy, VERY EXPENSIVE month.

the one about that time of year when I lose it

Everyone’s all festive and smiley and singing carols and every other car has a Christmas tree tied to the roof.

Everyone’s all freakin’ happy and talking about finishing their shopping and about what they’re getting and giving and what foods they plan to eat.

And this is exactly when I shut down. I can’t take it any longer.

Yup. It’s that time of year when I lose it.

You see, hubby and I weren’t so good on our fertility planning, it seems, and we have a REALLY CRAPPY month every December.

Why? You ask?

Well, it goes like this.

Dec. 11 is Big Man’s birthday. Seven days later it’s Middle Man’s birthday. Seven days later is Christmas. Seven days later is New Year’s.

Add in a salary cut and a few furloughs and Voila! December sucks.

And for some reason, dear hubby never listens to me (I love you, babe! But you don’t) and we NEVER start shopping early for any of this craziness. NEVER.

And here it is, December something or other, and we haven’t purchased crap. I finally got a few things online this past weekend, which helps, but it doesn’t make a dent in what we need to accomplish over a short couple of weeks.

So what? So what? You think it’s easy to just go out and buy stuff and get it over with? You don’t feel bad for me?

Come on. Feel my pain.

I sometimes (almost always) feel like a single mom (shout out to you single moms. YOU ROCK). I’m HOME ALONE with the kids (THREE BOYS!!!) all night every weekday while hubby works. Makes it a little tough to do anything. And shopping with them is out of the question. They’re obviously going to notice me loading up the cart with Bakugan and Pokemon and Wii games.

Duh.

And we have no family in town. No built-in, free babysitters.

Yo, it sucks paying a sitter every stinkin’ time you need to run an errand without kids. Sucks.

So yeah. Again. Woe is me.

I reserve the right to lose it. It’s December. Bah humbug.

(P.S. I actually LOVE birthdays and Christmas. LOVE them. It’s that whole leading up to them that sucks eggs.)

Coke Zero suckage

I blame my Coke habit on my parents.

Heck, I even blame it on my grandparents.

I have photos of myself drinking Coke IN MY BOTTLE. (Just exactly what type of Coke did you think I was talking about? Geez!)

Uh, yeah. Not so sure there’s any way to spin that one. That just isn’t right.

And now, to this day, when I’m really needing something … guess what I crave?

Milk Duds.

Oh, and Coke. Obviously.

It’s going to be really, really, REALLY difficult to turn this ship around, folks. Coke Zero sucks, yo.

on (not) stuffing myself like a turkey

On this Thanksgiving Eve, the day before the first Thanksgiving we will not spend in Pennsylvania with my family (at least in a long time … there was that one year hubby and I were in Hawaii, but I don’t count that since the kids were with my family. And who are we kidding, the kids are the only ones anyone wants to see anyway), I’m making a vow to not stuff myself like a turkey tomorrow.

I will not stuff myself.

I will not stuff myself.

I will not stuff myself.

You see, promises like these need to made in the open for the world to hear (or read). And coming off what I’m fairly certain was THE WORST health screening I’ve ever had in my life, I feel it’s time to make a change. If I don’t, I might end up dead.

Or worse–on a diet for the rest of my life.

Which means no Dove chocolate or cotton candy or Coke or Happy Meals.

And that, my friends, would be worse than death. Especially the Coke part. That is my weakness.

Unfortunately, it seems I might be headed down that road to heart attack or death or some other crappy outcome. I’m a bit overweight, and I don’t exercise. I eat the worst foods ever. And I have a family history of every bad thing in the books. I’m destined to have issues. And those issues are starting to sprout their ugly heads.

So tomorrow, I promise to not gorge on every carb offered me. I promise to pass on seconds. I promise tomorrow is the last day of this life and the next day is the beginning of a new one.

Cause if mama don’t get to eatin’ better and movin’ soon, there might not be a mama in the house.

So today I’m thankful to have a tomorrow to right my wrongs. (If everything goes as planned, of course.)

(Insert mental picture of me holding up glistening turkey leg.)

Here’s to tomorrow. Cheers.

your hands

It’s been a difficult week. A difficult few weeks, actually.

I hate it when things get hard. And it’s been harder than usual. It’s been so bad that my fingers tingle and the sadness in my heart overwhelms my every cell. Every breath. My entire being.

That’s how it’s been. But it’s getting better. I hope.

Sometimes when I need to be knee-deep in work, writing a story, making a schedule, creating a to-do list, my mind wanders to you. To your health. I wonder what went wrong. When it went wrong. Why you wouldn’t get help. Why you didn’t care enough to take care of yourself.

Sometimes I think of your hands. They’re tan. The veins are large. The nails have a slight curve. You don’t wear polish and rarely wear jewelry. I don’t know why I think of your hands. I just do.

When you called, your words were simple. “I’m going to tell you because you always say I never tell you anything. I had a stroke.”

I remember my mind going in a million directions. You were talking to me. Telling me this. So surely you were fine. Right? But stroke? Stroke?! How could you be fine? You can’t be fine. It’s STROKE.

Then I remembered. It all came flooding back to me. You have no insurance.

YOU. HAVE. NO. INSURANCE.

You paid your dues. You’ve paid your dues all your damn life. It’s always been so hard. Why does it have to be so hard? Why does my heart hurt so much thinking of how hard it’s been? It shouldn’t be so hard. WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE SO HARD?

You paid your dues. You had insurance. Till he was laid off. That was only a short few months ago. YOU HAD INSURANCE.

Now you don’t.

Now you’ve had a stroke.

Somehow we talked you into going to the emergency room. But it’s been more than a week since it happened. You haven’t seen a real doctor for probably 30 years. I’m scared. We’re all scared.

I get word that you’re having tests. Then I get word that the hospital turned you away because you don’t have a doctor you currently see. Do they not get it? You’re not only deathly afraid of doctors and hospitals, but you have no insurance. Is this not a clue that you might not actively be seeing a doctor? And how the hell do they turn someone away who is walking around having had a stroke and who has a blood pressure reading of about 200 over 100-plus?

A few days pass. You’ve seen a doctor … you finally have medication. More tests are scheduled.

I finally have the courage and a bit of a clear head to write this. But I’m still freaking out. I’m wringing my hands. I’m biting my lip. I’m trying everything in my power not to fall apart. To lose it. To crumble into a million pieces.

I can’t keep my hands from tingling. Which just reminds me of your hands.

I can’t stop thinking of your hands.