this is one of those times

"sometimes i need to step away"

you know those movies where people blend families together and it all goes to shit and then they all love one another? that's fucking awesome. plus, it makes for way cool stories to share.

UPDATED:  while i was proof reading this...because even in stressful times i must maintain the facade of awesomeness...the last evening for me and the blonde kidlets in our house took a sharp turn to the south.  and by "south" i mean "to hell". 

child #4 was cuddled up in front of his computer on the floor (because all our furniture and beds were gone...save for my bed...and we were forced to improvise) and #2 and #3 were snug and snoozing away the night in my bed.

my beloved computer was still there, though, so i stole a few moment for you all...because you are totally all that and a bag of sour cream and bacon chips.

then came a cough and a splash just as my finger hovered over the "publish" button.

fucking awesome.  child #2 spewed all over my bed, narrowly missing her sister...and in the process ms. vomit-en-ous mt.vesuvius soaked my comforter, bottom sheet, and another blanket.

fuck.

long story short, she slept on the bathroom floor with towels and a pillow puking every 20 to 30 minutes.  while i tried to clean vomit laundry.  without laundry soap.  because it was packed.  but my dishsoap wasn't so whatever, right?  in between all the puking and backrubbing, i may have dozed for a few minutes atop a tweety bird towel. 

because all my fucking blankets and sheets were packed.

yes, that is funny.

now.

not then.  big difference being was that then, andy was rapidly losing her ability to contain the cranky.

but!

we are now happily blended and comfortably nestled in our new home out in the country.

it is fucking awesome.

and all the kids were beyond excited.  which never happens.

so we've declared today an official "snow day"...unpacking, exploring, having fun, and maybe a little bit of frolicking.

yeah, fucking frolicking.

and i'm totally not medicated yet today.


sunday, november 29th, 2009

fyi, i am alive.

and extra specially medicated.

which is awesome.  and also why god invented the -pam family.

if you don't get that last reference, don't worry...no need to google...by then the point will have been wasted on all you non-drugged assholes and your stupid factory prototype robot brains.

also, the move is going smoothly.

however, because of that overwhelming cluster, you can only have some blog worthy snippets...'cause i'm too lazy to draw upon them in detail:

there are a lot of short tempers this past weekend ie: the "i'm going to flick your dick if you steal all the blankets again tonight" conversation between me and the boyfriend.

i was stuck like fuck in a four hour traffic jam on friday night on my way to meet the blonde heathens father.  it made me want to slash  really tried my patience.  in a "are you fucking kidding me?" kind of way.

and today how i lifted too much furniture to prepare for the move move tomorrow because the boyfriend and his dad are working so physically hard.

i'm afraid that in short order they shall collapse and i will then be forced to wipe their ass and give them sponge baths indefinitely.

perhaps this is a conspiracy.

my reputation for lots of bubbles and baby powder fresh must have preceded me.

assholes.
can you tell it's after 0100am and i'm totally incoherently babbling?  and it is now less than twelve hours away from castle time! possession.  so i have to stop typing.  plus, i'm using the backspace button every fifth letter.

this could be my last post from my hovel  ghetto-riffic townhouse cozy corner of happy.

enjoy the madness.

so i've decided i'm done with you. in an "eliminating waste" way. (insert toilet flushing *here*) yes, i know this title isn't half as long as usual...but i was going for impact here, people.

this post is gonna be a little of this, and a lot of that.

which is which?  who fucking cares.

let's start with people. 

i hate most of them. 

more specifically, i loathe unenlightened idiots who cannot get over shit from the past.  and judgy mcjudgerson's.  and bitchy mcbitchface's.  i'm so done, in fact, that i couldn't be more done (did you read that like chandler from friends?  no?  go back and do it again...it reads funnier that way).

this past weekend i extended myself to two family members from the ex-husbands family.  i sent a short note on facebook (yeah, faceless bravery...i am so totally awesome), with the main point being forever is a long time when a family breaks up and children are involved.  i mean honestly?  if it was just you, i'd be more than happy to never lay my eyes on your face again.  every once in a while i might think fondly of our encounters...but then that moment would pass and i'd go make myself a bowl of soup and watch some TLC.  in our situation, though, we have blood related children...can we not just get past the past?...wouldn't that be sunshine and rainbows if our kids could know the love of an extended family?

it has been almost five years.

five years.

i know how much i have changed over the past five years.  i have gone through the most trying situation in my life.  ever.  i felt tremendous guilt over breaking my family unit.  i felt responsible for the well being of another grown up, who is four years my senior.  i worried about how they would be able to cope.  i was swallowed up by an overwhelming helplessness to make things right.  and it was too much for a brain that was already functioning at a "not quite right" chemical balance to handle.

so here i am now, healing myself from not only the wounds of my divorce...but also from the underlying issues that have plagued my brain for much much much longer.

depression had embraced my soul...eating me from the inside out.  without prejudice it attacked my entire physical, mental, and emotional self.  it brought me to my knees...i was unintentionally ruining everything around me...and i almost lost the best thing that had ultimately saved me from the "not happy".

it has been a year since i have begun the healing of myself.  a year of fiddling with medication dosage.  a year of discovering the truly important things in life...and a year of realizing what is not.

and you know what? 

none of the mundane bullshit of the past is important.

i'm sorry i hurt people with my choice to divorce.

i'm sorry i didn't recognize my own difficulties earlier in life.

i'm sorry my kids didn't have the happiest mom for a few years.

i'm fucking sorry, okay? 

but again, you know what?

i forgive myself.

we have but one life to live.  so fucking live it.  get to your happy mother fuckers.

and i guess you can leave me to mine.

because i'm fucking done licking ass.  one can only do that for so long before you realize all you're getting back from your effort is a constant taste of shit in your mouth.

anyhoo...

so i went to see new moon over the weekend with the boyfriend and our youngest four heathens.  child #5 was too into appearances cool nasty busy to come with us, and will instead go with friends this week.

okaaaaay...

now, how do i say this without offending those people who adore the whole edward/jacob/bella/twilight thing?

...'cause i'm all about consideration.

plus, i read the series...so i'm an effing expert.

first off, i think the movie held to the book as much as it could within the time allotted for a cinematic production.

because the books are loooooong.

also?  way better.

after watching twilight and then reading the series of four books...ignoring most duties around me for ten days save for throwing food at pestering children every so often...i watched the movie again.

and again.

and try as i might, i just couldn't love the movie.  it seemed so............not good.  plus i really wanted to punch the movie bella in her face, whereas the book bella was endearing and fierce.

i honestly tried to lust after edward and/or jacob...but...movie edward is too much of a lightweight.  i would break him like a dry twig with the slightest of hip thrusts.  and movie jacob?  dude.  the long hair?  that. was. terrible.  even the bronze and ripple-y muscles could not stir a buzz from within this chippy's loins.

however!  i totally would have pounded the literary version of edward.  he was fucking scrumptious.  because in my head, whilst reading, i envisioned him to at least be big enough to toss me and my girl bits around without breaking a sweat.

so?

sorry twi-hards.

skip the movie, read the books.

and if you're still achingly desperate to live the twilight fantasy...go find some bar whore body glitter from the dark realms of your bathroom cabinet and brush it on your mates genitals.  giddy up.

because sparkles make everything better.

i know.  you're welcome.

it's okay for someones life to be different than it used to be. do *you* want to eat the same cereal every day for the rest of your time on earth? oh, fuck off...smart ass. try some cocoa puffs like the rest of us.

i've been going through some changes inside lately.  and i don't mean intestinally speaking.  for once. 

apparently moving in with the boyfriend and not having another place to run to if i ever so choose, has opened up some long forgotten fears from years past.  you know, all that shit and worry about never relying on anyone for anything else again because you can only count on numero uno?  consequently, this has forced a lot of fucking intrinsic thinking.  even when i don't care to do any.  awesome.

this is hard to have the boyfriend understand without him then imagining that i am not over the moon blissful about this monumentous event.

perhaps if i ever mentioned it to him he might try.

because, this is such a glorious time for us...just when we had thought the whole move and merge was going to happen later and not sooner, the universe opened up to us with a slap of happy. 

and happy we all are. 

which is strange:  we have five children from two different genealogies preparing to blend into one flock of chaos after four loooooong years...yet the only family member who has expressed any disdain has been our youngest child, heathen #1 (7 years).  in ten days she will have her own room for the first time in her life. 

the walk-in closet in my bedroom when she was an infant doesn't count.

it was a walk-in...jeezus.  i am never going to live that down.

anyhow, as excited as she is at the prospect, her ginormous hazel eyes fill with shiny dollops of tears at the very thought of losing the security re: her roommate...heathen #2 (9 years)...who has such a cranky ass 8 times out of 10 that not many of us would choose to have her bunk within two feet of our slumbering selves.  so i've had to promise and pinky swear to lie with my baby at night, sing her lullabies (shutthefuckupitotallyknowsome), and also invest in some spongebob walkie talkies for any middle of the night awakenings.

her worries aside, i think this whole jumblefuck messing with me is a little of giving up some long fought for independence and a lot of being overwhelmed with packing and cleaning two houses in such a short time span. meh.

my anxiety has reached such fantastical levels that i have temporarily increased my relax pills to a regular dose...not just only when i'm going to freak the fuck out.  so i'm a little bit more tired, but taking it in stride because at least the feeling of wanting to scream and sit paralyzed in the corner while listening to ABBA on my ipod has subsided.  i've lost my self calm a few times, returning momentarily to those ugly places i didn't think i'd see again.  but the difference this time has been that i'm more aware of myself.  i can feel what is happening...i can tell what i'm feeling...i can help myself be alright.  i will not allow this shit to smother me.  and i'm not going to beat andrea up on the inside anymore for things she cannot change.

talking in the third person...time to move on.

last night after the blonde kidlets were in bed i decided to tackle the dark and possibly spider-iffic place under the basement stairs.  and since it's all about the purge of the past lately, i was determined to follow suit with my own shit.

until i came to old pictures, and memories, and holysnotshowwhenmyemotionalreserveoverflowed.  a photo from almost 35 34 years ago of a brand new me with my mum and sister soon after my birth...homemade (yes, by me...shocking) birth announcements from the ex-husband and i sharing our joy with his family and mine.  but the kicker that set me over the edge and into the ugly cry?

my dolly from when i was two years old.  which had been stuffed protectively...during one of my five house moves over the past five years...inside my wedding purse.  for a moment i was expecting this was my stash of positive home pregnancy test sticks, but no.  it was molly.

so i brought her up to bed with me...one of the last nights that i will sleep alone in my back breaking-ly soft awesome king sized piece of heaven...and tucked her in beside me.  because i felt raw.  and sad.  and whatever. 

child #4 (11 years) picked her up this morning while we were readying for work and school.  i go "be careful with my dolly!...i've had her since i was two years old!" and he says "does that mean she's old and crusty?".  so then i called him a little asshole my little comedian and kicked his ass out the door to catch his bus.

i fucking love my life.  only happy people need apply.  the rest of you can fuck off. 

this post is absolutely without merit. except to clarify what in the fuck a "donair" is.

so here is some clarification as to the whole "donair" reference in my last post.  i guess some people call them "gyros".  whatever.  it's a fucking greek thing.  unless or until someone tells me different, this is all i care to know about it. 

the i'mnotsurewhatthefuckitis donair meat is cooked on a big spit and then it is sliced off. 

then the meat is wrapped in a pita and topped with veggies, cheese, and such...only onions and tomatoes are my choosing...and your choice of sauce: tzatziki or sweet.  fyi?  sweet is totally the way to go.

also, while you wait the nice greek guy will give you a piece of baklava.

if you show good cleavage.