I hate being sick.

Whew, ridiculously whirlwindy weekend. Saturday I tried to tidy up the house a little, then hit the Farmer's Market with sister Jenn (after a brief impromptu visit from Friend Jen), ran a few errands, got home in time to get ready to go to our Cioppino Party! (If you haven't had Cioppino, it's a fish stew that was created by Italian fisherman in San Francisco. Whatever fish and shellfish they didn't sell was all thrown into a pot. Heavenly.)
Sunday we were up early and loaded up to drive around Sacramento all day. The whole family ended up coming too, with the exception of Kat. So, hours of driving around Sacramento and we mainly know where we DON'T want to live. But at least we've gotten a better idea of the neighborhoods and general layout of the area.

And now I'm back at work with maybe 4 hours worth of work to keep me occupied for the next 9 work days. BRUTAL. I hear that my current company is notorious for escorting folks out of the building within a day or two of notice being given. I just keep crossing my fingers and hoping that'll happen for me! Because you know what I could totally be doing with my time? Finding an apartment, packing up the entire house and moving. But just because I'd like for that to happnen means it probably won't and they'll spend the next week and a half torturing me. Sheesh.

Poor HR lady asked for an exit interview. And I also know that for a reference check, all she's legally allowed to say are the dates I worked here. For an actual reference I'll be using my boss, so I really don't have much to lose here. Clearly, I'll keep it professional, but I think I'd like to actual stick it to a few people. We'll see how it comes out. Might be cathartic anyway.

Warren had his first cold this weekend, complete with fever. Poor kiddo couldn't have been feeling very good, but I'll be darned if he showed it. I don't know how I got such a happy, content little baby, but I'm so not about to complain. But, I was totally THAT mom this weekend. You know, the mom who runs around with a pocket full of used tissues? Yeah. Unpleasant. And now, I have the stupid cold. Bah. I do so love being sick. Oh wait, no I don't. I'm a whiny, obnoxious brat everytime I so much as sneeze. Again, Xtian's a lucky man.

Think that's it for now. Oh, let's see... I don't think Cory reads this, so we're safe. Cory's birthday is Monday and I'd like to get him an eye exam and some new glasses. Kid doesn't have insurance, so we're looking at the cheapo methods. I've thought of Lenscrafters and Costco. Anyone else know of any cheap vision places?

Oh, and not to embarrass Cory or anything, but I have to vent about MIL for a moment. Cory was just barely 18 when he came to live with us. He had a pair of glasses he was using to see the TV, computer screen or anything further away than his hands. Then Crazy MIL started calling and demanding her glasses back. Yeah, this broad didn't provide prescription eyewear for her own son to be able to SEE, so he'd snagged hers as he hurriedly packed his things when she kicked him out on Christmas Eve.

As someone who is freaking blind without corrective vision, I think this constitutes child abuse. Being able to SEE is so basic and denying your kid that just proves what a nutjob she is. Even if you can't afford it, there are programs to get your kid some glasses. Schools will pay for it in California. This was just another way of controlling his universe and it makes me unbelievably pissed off.

Here's the thing. As a parent, everyone tries to give their kids the best things they can. And while not everyone can give their children luxuries (like name brand clothing, or even braces to fix crooked teeth), Vision is not a luxury. Food is not a luxury. Seasonally appropriate clothing isn't a luxury. These are necessities. If you can't provide them for your children, there are programs to help you provide them for your children. If you refuse these programs and force your children to go without, you probably shouldn't have children anymore. I know, not everyone likes asking for help. And if it's just you, you're allowed that option. But the second your own pride/selfishness/insanity forces your children to go without those things you have stopped being a good parent, and instead are neglecting your childrens basic needs.

Ok, I think I'm done and I hope I haven't overstepped on Cory's feelings. He's such a neat kid and I'm so glad he's in our home and in our family. I just adore him and I hope he's happy with us.

Yet another BS update.

Yeah, so between holidays, travel, and a new baby, I officially suck at writing.
My entire life right now revolves around my boobs. Specifically, my kid has zero interest in eating from them. Which meant that at his Well Baby checkup last week (Xmas Eve), he'd lost an unacceptable amount of weight. So Xmas Eve and Day were spent at doctor's offices, having my four day-old child's blood drawn, and being strapped to a breast pump in an effort to force feed Warren. Long story short, his weight is now fine, and he eats heartily. The bad news is that he will only eat from a bottle. Which means that feeding him is now an hour long process between having to pump the milk, bottle it, warm it and shove it down his throat, and usually involves a lot of dishes.

And of course, it leaves me feeling like a shitty mom already. (Gee, couldn't be the crazy hormone trip I've been on, could it?) My own kid screams at the site of my breasts. Comforting. Hopefully a lactation consult will help.

That's pretty much it for the bitching. So far, Warren is a sweet, very easy going kid. He's had the very intense experience of meeting every single one of my relatives over a 5 day period, and he's handled it beautifully. He rarely cries, and wakes me up for his night feedings with a few "Eh eh eh" grunts. He sleeps a few hours at a time, and my mom's been down a lot to help.


In non-baby news, we had another crazy MIL experience. Xtian's brother had made arrangements to come visit just after Xmas. He'd cleared it with MIL, and tickets had been purchased. Xmas Eve, MIL kicked Xtian's brother out, because he was coming to visit us. So, for now, he's staying with us and working on getting his shit together. He's only barely 18, and is such a good kid. I'm so angry with that woman.
At the same time this is all going on, MIL sent emails to all my family members with some vague language about wanting to be family again. Now, don't worry, she didn't actually apologize for anything. Rather, some references were made to "misunderstandings". Yeah. Quality.

There's a special place in hell for terrible humans like her. She's bound and determined to be alone, and now she will be. I hope it works out for her.

And because we must, another Warren picture.

Yeah, still with the nothing.

But it's ok. I'm trying to be very Zen about this whole thing while also trying to talk Mocha Cub into making his/her escape. So far, no dice.
Now that I'm home most of the day, and spend a few hours in bed with three kitties most mornings, the cats ARE ON MY ASS ALL DAY. It's no secret my three cats are pretty needy, and also pretty damned cute. But now they are in my business all the time. One of them will seriously wake from a dead sleep to sprint ahead of me into the bathroom every time I use it. Yes, that is as creepy as it sounds. The other two spend every waking second whining at me and trying to get me to follow them around and pet them. While it's very sweet to be loved on all the time, it also makes for several almost-fell-flat-on-my-face tripping incidents that leave the cat freaked out, and me cursing them out.

And please allow me to vent my MIL irritations. Xtian hadn't spoken with her since she sent that horrible letter a few months ago. (I'd link to the post about it, but I'm unbelievably lazy. The gist: Xtian is a terrible person whose wife is destroying his life, and he won't be allowed to see his own brother until he "Gets rid of the negative influence." Which would be me. Yeah, she's encouraging her son to dump his pregnant wife. Classy.)
I've discontinued all contact with her for over a year now, and it's been delightful. But I also know that Xtian has a lot of guilt where his mother is concerned, so I do my best to encourage him to laugh about the things she does that are crazy and help protect him from her cruelty. Anyhow, so he'd not heard from her in months. Then Thanksgiving hit, and Xtian sent a text message to his brother wishing him a Happy Turkey day etc. This was apparently all the invitation MIL needed to pretend nothing had ever happened and to start with the daily phone calling and guilt-inducing messages. Xtian had determined that he still didn't want to deal with her, so he ignored her phone calls.

But, MIL is crafty. Xtian was speaking to his brother on the phone, when MIL took the phone away from the brother and started talking to Xtian like everything was just peachy.

She'd been asking her younger son to find out what she could get me and the baby for Xmas. (She uses the brother, because Xtian won't tell him "Not a goddamn thing you fucking bitch") Xtian relayed this message and I told him that I'm not comfortable accepting anything from her, and that I'd tell her that if he preferred. I don't want to put him into an awkward situation, and it's not up to him to fight my battles.
So, Xtian sent the message through the lines that he'd think about it and get back to her.

This all went down last Saturday right as we were heading out to see my lover, Denzel. (Seriously? The man can do no wrong. American Gangster had me rooting for a big time heroin smuggler and dealer. That is the power of Denzel.)

Monday, two letters arrived addressed to Xtian from his mother. One was a print out of some bullshit email forward (further proof that she is not quite right in the head. Who actually PRINTS out email forwards and then spends money on postage to send them to someone who couldn't give two shits about it?). The other letter was typed up like they were meeting minutes.
It was kind of weird. And the memo field stated, "Re: Phone conversation from 11/28. (You don't have to lei to kick it -- An old saying)".
Yeah, that's verbatim complete with her own spelling issues. Problem being? There was no phone call that occurred on that date, and there was no further reference to the quote.
But basically it was a full page, 8-point font condemnation of Xtian and his life. I didn't read it, as Xtian asked me not to. But the gist was she believes that living in Chico ruined him, and that he's now being dominated and controlled, presumably by me.
As a new twist though, she's started roping Xtian's brother into the mix. Claiming that the strain in her relationship with Xtian is creating problems with his brother. (Which isn't true, and we all know it since Xtian and his brother talk on the phone a few times a week.) But, clearly, she wasn't hurting Xtian enough with her own bullshit and vitriol, and this is a new tactic to manipulate him into doing what she wants.

That raises an interesting question. What does she want? She used to want Xtian to move to LA with her. Then for a while she let that one go since he was out of Chico, and moving on with his life. Then all the information and enrollment packages from LA based schools started showing up in the mailbox again. Yeah, she puts his name on mailing lists for fun, apparently.

So, after this last letter, Xtian fumed for a while. I am working on being supportive without trying to persuade Xtian to my way of thinking. But he beat me to that one. After a couple of hours of him being pissed off, he sat down and wrote her an email telling her basically that he didn't want anything to do with her until she got some mental help. He was sorry things had gotten this far out of hand, but that he couldn't let her further hurt him or his family.

So, HURRAY FOR XTIAN! He actually stood up for himself and is so far sticking to it. I have no idea what the outcome of all this will be. I doubt this will actually get her to re-evaluate anything, or start getting the therapy she so clearly needs. I'd be more than willing to bet she decides that I'm behind it all, and that I'm evil. But, either way, Xtian got to say some things he's not been able to before, and stood up to his mother. Yippee!

So, yeah. That's a long rambling explanation of the drama going on in my home these days. At least it gives us something to think about aside from WHEN THE HELL IS THIS KID GOING TO GET THE HELL OUT OF ME?

That's it. I'm going to go bake some cookies now. Be very, very jealous.

Weekend recap, only a few days after the fact.

So, let’s see…my aunt had her baby on Saturday. She called me at 10 am to let me know that she was sorry, but she wouldn’t be able to make it to the baby shower, as she’d just been admitted to the hospital. Gee, you think? So, I squealed, told her to get that baby born already and to have her husband keep us all posted. It’s a boy, he’s very cute and I already tried to steal him as my “practice baby.” No dice.

The baby shower was just delightful. The house was stuffed to the gills with people and food, which is my favorite way to do things. Food was fabulous, I made a massive quantity of guacamole, there were many nibbly Mexican food things, a DELICIOUS salad and a tasty ice cream cake. Jen took some wonderful pictures of everyone, which if she feels like sharing, I’ll let her post the link in a comment.
Everyone was amazingly generous and we now have more baby stuff than I can wrap my brain around. Then I got to spend the rest of the weekend hanging out with my mama. Now, if only every weekend could be so nice.

Of course Xtian’s friends proved, once again, that they suck. After telling Xtian that they’d be carpooling and caravaning down for the party, they called Friday night to offer half-assed excuses as to why they wouldn’t make it. (For further evidence see: the complete lack of a bachelor party for Xtian when we got married, and the threat of not coming to our wedding since it was inconveniently dated what with their “Community theater” obligations. Fucking asswads.) I don’t know why I ever expect them to show any amount of concern or caring for Xtian, but I do know that it hurts Xtian every time, and it makes me want to choke them all.

But in spite of his friends’ being fucktards, Xtian had a nice time mingling with my family and friends. I just wish SOMEONE from Xtian’s life would be supportive of him. I feel badly that he’s always surrounded by my folks, and is left hanging by his own. He’s just too wonderful and deserves better than he gets.

OH! And while we’re on the topic of people hurting and letting Xtian down, let’s add another installment of Xtian’s Batshit Insane Mother Does Weird Stuff!

I got home from work on Friday and found one envelope addressed to Xtian, our unborn kid and me. A large manila envelope was addressed solely to Xtian. Both had a return address from a law office in Beverly Hills. One look and I knew they were from my MIL. (Remember the last we heard from her was a three-page letter telling Xtian what a disappointment of a son he was and urging him to break up with me. Complete silence since then).

Now, I had decided previously to return all mail and packages to her unopened, as I’d like to discourage her from contacting us at all. But, it was from a law office, and part of me hoped she was disowning us, legally. And I’m not the least bit ashamed to say that the thought warmed my soul. So, I thought we should probably open them.

Xtian asked that I wait for him to come home before I opened them and so I did. And I’ll be damned if after all that buildup, it was standard MIL material. The first envelope (addressed to Xtian, myself, and an unborn fetus) contained about 30 pages of photocopied text, most of it a bio for the lawyer that she apparently now works for (although, that's just an assumption. No explanation was actually included). The other envelope contained a press kit for the same lawyer. And one handwritten note telling Xtian that there was no need to make arrangements for Xtian’s brother to come and visit, as, and here I will directly quote, “our van will be arriving soon and we’ll both come for a visit.”

What?

So, apparently she got word that Xtian’s been talking to his brother about school schedules so that the brother can come meet his new niece or nephew on a school break. Apparently MIL forgot that she hereby decreed that Xtian would not be able to see his brother until Xtian got rid of the “negative influence” in his life. (That would be me.)

Now, I don’t actually think she’ll ever make it up to visit as it took a lot of financial assistance and negotiation to get her up for her son’s wedding, and this time, no one’s offering anything of the sort.

But part of me almost wants her to just so I can have the petty satisfaction of telling her she’s not welcomed in my home, and that the police will be called if she doesn’t remove herself from the premises before slamming the door in her face.
That, or beating her over the head with a crow bar until I’m no longer angry. You know, whatever strikes my fancy at the moment.

Now I regret opening the damned mail in the first place and should have just stuck with my plan to return everything to her unopened. Damn my morbid curiosity!

So, yeah. That’s where it all stands now. Good weekend, love my mama, hate Xtian’s friends, MIL: Still fucking nuts. Huzzah.

More Crazy.

Warning! What follows is a ranting tirade about my mother in law. If you aren’t interested, check back at a later date where I will focus more on the standard fare of pointless whining and vagina jokes.

So, I mentioned the bizarre phone message from MIL last week? Wherein she demanded to know why Xtian hadn’t sent any pregnancy pictures of me? Yeah. So that was weird, but harmless.
Yesterday, Xtian got a letter from his mother. At first, it looked like just a Thank You card (which was appropriate, since he’d sent her a birthday gift a few weeks before. Remember? Snakes On A Plane? Yeah, still funny). The thank you was not really a thank you. It said, “Thank you for the lovely card. The gift was very unusual.” Now, I find her calling the gift “unusual” hilarious, since the gifts Xtian has received over the last few years usually consist of a dozen pairs of used shoes, of different sizes; completely awkward movies (Stepford Wives, Monster In Law); Bible tracts, and consecrated Jesus Oil. Really? Was Xtian’s gift to her any weirder than a huge box of USED SHOES that don’t fit him? I don’t think so.

So, whatever, a thank you that didn’t really thank him. Fine. But then we find the real reason for the card. Tucked inside was a two-page letter. At first it looked like any of the other photocopied flyers people hand out on street corners that she sends regularly. But this had so many typos, spelling errors and word usage issues that it could only have been written by MIL. The gist was that Xtian has fucked up his entire life, and is miserable. And that he’d continue to be so until he came back to jebus and left his “companion.” Meaning me. Bitch couldn’t call me by name or even his wife. She spent about half the letter talking about how he is suffering from his poor life choices and how he’d never be happy, or allowed to see his own brother until he got away from me. Delightful. Just fucking delightful.

I know that she is mentally ill, and that this has nothing to do with me really. But shit, man. I haven’t had any contact with her in over a year. In the past I’ve tried ignoring her, defending myself, playing along with her bizarre fantasyland. Nothing works. Nothing changes. Nothing stems the tide of vile garbage. And like all letters, she ended it with, “This subject is now closed.” So, no chance of asking her what the fuck is wrong with her, why in the name of god she’d ever send this to her own son, or even to tell her to drop dead and never contact us again. I’m so infuriated and at a total loss on how to deal with her. I can’t even imagine how Xtian’s feeling. How do you process this much hatred coming from your own mother?

Just….FUCK!

My ideal solution would be to call her, tell her to fuck off and die, and to never contact us again. Change phone numbers, block her email addresses, and maybe put out a hit on her. But, it’s not my call to make.

So, what I can do is as follows: I can support my husband in however he decides to deal with her. I can continue to have no contact with that woman. I can determine that until she gets help for her illness, she is not allowed to have contact with me, my family and my child(ren). Anything mailed to my home will be sent back, unopened. And I can help my poor, darling brother in law to get the hell away from her, should he decide to.

I don’t want to sound petty by keeping my kid away from her. It’s not to punish MIL. I just can’t possibly see anything good coming from it. There isn’t a single positive influence she could ever have on a child, and really, I can only see some pretty severe damage as the end result. I’m sad that it is this way. I wish Xtian’s mother were different. I wish my kids could have great relationships with both grandmas. I wish I could be a more understanding person, and could look beyond the bullshit. But, this isn’t Coley’s Best Case Scenario. And watching the way she continually hurts the person I love most in this world makes me feel violent.

That’s pretty much all that’s whirling through my brain today. Hope everyone else is doing well.

Go ahead, tell me my hair ain't luxurious when you know it is.

My body can’t see to decide if I’m sick or not. A terrible flu-like thing is circulating at work. Fevers, chills, weeks of wracking coughs, at least 3 of my coworkers have been taken out by it.
I desperately would like to avoid this illness, since I am not allowed to take my favorite meds these days (ah the sweet embrace of Nyquil! How I miss you!) and pregnant ladies tend to be sick for 3 times longer than non-pregnant ladies. Or at least, this is what WebMD tells me. (Speaking of WebMD, don’t ever go to it. Their symptom tracker always shows that I MIGHT have the rarest of rare diseases, and who am I to question WebMD?)
So, in an effort to avoid illness, I’ve been pounding more Vitamin C and supplements than are probably advisable. And so far, I’ve been doing ok. Then Sunday I woke up with a sore throat and a nasty cough. “Well,” I thought, “this is it. I’m finally sick. Time to hunker down, sip some tea and hide under the covers.”
Ah, but over the course of the day, sore throat and cough subsided. I awoke on Monday feeling, dare I say, chipper. “Ok, so I’m not sick. Fine, even better, not sick.”

BUT! Tuesday arrived with a low-grade fever, chills and general body aching hell. Of course, like a douche, I still went to work where I felt awful until I finally called it quits around noon. Ok, so sick. Got it, I’m sick now.

Nope. Today I’m fine. I woke up feeling fine, I’m still feeling fine.

What the fuck gives? One of the other, I don’t even care what it is anymore. Just make up your damned mind! This is ridiculous. Either let me wallow in my sickbed, or let me get on with it. Stupid body with its stupid immune system of inconsistency.


~~
I’m starving. All the time, every day, starving. But, I can only fit about a handful of food in my squished stomach. So this means, I pretty much need to be eating all day, every day. Pretty inconvenient, really. And also annoying, since I only have about 5 bites of chicken salad left, it’s delicious, but in no way will it fit in my belly. Stupid.

~~

My Mother In Law (you recall, the crazy one?) left a voicemail for Xtian last night. I will paraphrase it for you:

Xtian! Why haven’t you sent me pregnancy pictures of your wife, Coley? You dried up ol’ kid! Send me pictures!

Umm, what? Since when does she acknowledge my existence, let alone my name? And what in the name of all things wretched would lead her to believe that I’d ever let a picture of me get sent her way? Dude, the crazy just keeps coming. And what the hell is a “dried up ol’ kid”? I don’t get that at all. It’s just weird.

But I guess I can tell my family that they have to stop calling me the incubator, since, I HAVE A NAME FINALLY! So, there!


Lord, help me if that woman decides to travel here to meet her grandkid. While I’d never begrudge her the chance to meet her only grandchild, that bitch isn’t setting foot in my home, or within a mile of me.
Luckily, the odds of her traveling (without someone else paying her way) are slim.

Showers and whathaveyou

So, after all the buildup, the shower was fine. I’ve realized that I really hate baby shower games, but it was what I was expecting. My poor aunt is only about a month further along than I am, and a full four years younger (and was about 50 pounds lighter than I in pre-pregnancy times), and she looks miserable. She’s put on more than 50 pounds since she got pregnant, and makes me look like I just ate a big meal rather than housing a 7-month-old fetus. Sheesh. Next time I complain that I feel enormous; you are all to remind me that it could be much, much worse.

I guess it used to be standard practice for women to stop working once they got pregnant, or once they hit the third trimester. But, people keep asking me if I’m still working, and it just seems like the dumbest question ever. If I weren’t working, what would I be doing all day? The kid isn’t here, the cats pretty much amuse themselves all day, and honestly, how hard is it to purchase baby stuff? Why in the name of all things holy would someone who isn’t on bed rest stop working this early? Hell, I know all I would do is alternately lay on the couch, and obsessively clean things that don’t need it.

Of course, my SG laments that my aunt is still working. Umm, what else should she be doing? They don’t have a ton of money, so they really do need her income, and she gets almost no exercise as it is. If she didn’t have to leave the house 3 days a week, she’d probably lay on the couch in her pajamas all day. I guess some people deal with stress differently, but it just seems weird. (Of course, bear in mind that SG has been saying the same thing since my aunt got pregnant. Yeah, because working 3 days a week, for three weeks at a stretch is just TOO MUCH!) It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t work throughout the whole damned gestational period. And unless your job is dangerous to fetuses, or you have some medical issues, what good is it to stay home all day? Sounds like the perfect storm for depression to me.

But, the shower did give my family an excuse to come play, which was lovely. Mom, sister Kat and I all went to the shower, while my dad and Xtian went to a baseball game together. That was pretty cool. Xtian actually came up with the idea, and put the whole thing together, because *gasp* he LIKES spending time with my dad. (Speaking of in laws, my MIL’s birthday was last week. After getting Xtian to promise that he wouldn’t sign my name on the card, we went to pick out a gift for her. We’ve decided to mirror the insanity/retardedness of her own gifts back at her. So, the gift: a dvd of Snakes On A Plane. Fan-fucking-tastic.)

At the shower, one of the women there had her 4-month-old little boy with her. This kid was a dreamboat. In a room filled with 15 women and a handful of kids, he sat, and smiled and cooed and amused himself in the bouncy seat for hours. He let every woman there hold him, and only got fussy when he was desperate to eat, three and half hours later. After all the horror stories people share with me, it was really nice to spend some time with a really good baby. I’ve been having les and less patience with children lately, so it was a big relief to find myself completely smitten with this kid. (Shit, who wants to be a parent when you hate kids? But, then again, they are other people’s kids. And as my lady friend Jen always reminds me: Other people’s kids, you can’t live with ‘em, and you can’t kill ‘em.)

But, anyhow, again, I really hate traditional baby showers. Wedding showers are fun, because it’s usually a bunch of grown women, being silly and making bawdy jokes while the bride opens lingerie. (Witness: my mother, her sister and her best friend making the Mormon ladies blush at my shower. “That’ll look good on….for about three seconds!”) But at baby showers, it’s just all that same ooh and awe crap that I don’t really get into. Women at work who try to get all sentimental with me over babies look at me like I’m psychotic when I try to explain that I’m just not that guy. Yes, I’m thrilled to be having this kid, and yes, I can’t wait to meet MC. But I’m not the matching layette in the perfectly appointed room, themed outfit kind of girl. Why would I want to see the same disbelieving confusion on twenty faces all at once?

I think baby showers require booze, and maybe some testosterone. Sure, I can’t drink, but that doesn’t mean YOU can’t drink. How about a party, with real games like drinking Jenga and Catchphrase? Eh? Am I just a cynical old cow here?

And it’s Monday, which means…Birthing Class Time! Let’s hope the Class Hole sits across the room again. He’s much more pleasant when I can’t smell him, or hear his cheesy comments.

It's a good thing I can cook.

Ok, I’m irritable. I’m just warning you that this post will shortly devolve into whining about inconsequential bullshit that effects no one but me. So, yeah.

Last night, it was still 75 degrees at 10 pm. Since I live in Oakland (where the temp rarely tops 80) I do not have air conditioning in my home. So, trying to sleep in one of the TWO positions I’m allowed to sleep in, with the sweaty, steamy, smelly weather was just impossible. Factor into this equation, the douchebag across the street having his/her car alarm go off every 20 minutes for an hour. And no, the car was not being messed with, and also no, the owner did not bother to interrupt his/her evening to turn it off. So I was treated to the 21 horn salute for 3 minutes at a stretch. It goes off, you sigh and think “FINALLY! Now I will just relax and drift…into…glorious….FUCK! There it is again!”

And of course, it’s hot outside, so animals are still awake. Including the 4 dogs on the block, each being too annoying to keep inside, apparently. So instead of the dogs’ respective owners being annoyed at their own pet, I was kept awake by constant barking for hours. Thanks! I’ll be shooting your dogs tonight if it continues.

There’s something my neighbors need to understand: white people call the cops. We just do. While other people might be content to just ignore barking dogs, neighbors fighting or shrieking children without a bed time, white people will grumble to themselves for 15 minutes, then we call the cops. I thought this was a generally understood principle, but apparently, I was wrong.

So, anyway, sleep was a luxury I didn’t get to enjoy last night. (TANGENT! So, I’ve been having a lot of nightmares lately, from being chased by alligators to having really rude houseguests. But by far the one that left me most upset? My Mother in law was moving in with us, and Xtian had NO IDEA why I was upset about this. It was so realistic, I woke up and it took me about 30 minutes to realize that it wasn’t real, and I could stop giving Xtian the stink eye.) But, life goes on, eh? And since I was already awake and stuff, I just got up and went to the gym like normal. Since getting myself knocked up, I’ve continued to work out. I did find that I was losing weight (really, body? REALLY! I lose nothing for 4 months, until I get knocked up, then the same workout schedule suddenly starts working? F. You!) so I knocked my workouts down to 4 days a week. And up to this point, I’ve been doing pretty well at about 80% of my normal exertion. (I know, you so don’t care. But guess what? My space to babble, and I did warn you…)

Today, however, I walked into the gym to find it was a good 25 degrees hotter inside than out. At outside was a balmy 66 degrees. Now, I know, it’s a relatively small space without a lot of ventilation, and add in a couple dozen people sweating, it’s bound to be a little tropic. But this…this was something far more nefarious. The gym’s climate control had lost its mind. The HEATER WAS ON FULL BLAST! Hot, smelly air being blown directly at you while you try to workout? So unpleasant.
Needless to say, my workout was kicking my ass to the point I actually had to take a break in the middle of my running.

And nothing tops a sweaty, uncomfortable, borderline painful workout like a shower. Oh wait, except the heater was even more pronounced in the shower/toilet area. And we all know how nice smelling those places are to begin with, let alone with 90-degree air being circulated. Just…eww. And then, you get out of a shower, only to start sweating again, since the air is on fire.
Oh, and since I got up this morning: dizzy spells. God, this rocks! I’ll be going along, doing fine, then suddenly, the floor is COMING AT ME! Except I’m still sitting in my chair. It’s almost like the drunken spins. Except that instead of being drunk, I’m sober. And annoyed.

And I’m officially uncomfortable all the time. I can’t find a comfy sleeping position, and sitting at my desk? Forget about it. To accommodate the belly, I’ve leaned the chair back as far as it will go. But now, my tailbone is bruised. Have I mentioned the cankles? Oh, wait, yes. So, I’ve found a way to keep my feet up and still be able to work at my desk. The problem here is that the trash can I’ve inverted to prop my feet upon, has a large rim on the bottom that officially cuts into my legs. So, I have some nice indentations and the beginnings of some really good bruising.

Whew. I think I’m all out of things to whine about. Sorry for the venting. Now you see what poor Xtian lives with ALL THE TIME! And, ask any pregnant lady, I’m having an unbelievably easy pregnancy, with no problems *knock wood*. Can you imagine how whiny I’d be if this was a difficult gestation? *shudder*

I’d like to finish on a high note (Lalalalallaal! Oh wait, you can’t hear that. Sorry)
New reasons to love Xtian:

• He’s finally learned that when I start whining, there is nothing he can do, or is expected to do. He need only say, “oh, poor honey. Can I unwrap another Twix for you?” And he does so with perfect sincerity.
• Every night, before he does dishes, but after he brings me my ice cream, he packs my lunch for the next day. Complete with silverware and appropriate condiments.
• On those mornings when I work, and he has the day off, he still gets up before 6 am to make my breakfast and coffee before walking me to the car.
• While I make dinner, he giggles about having his wife, barefoot, pregnant and cooking grits for him. Yes, it’s totally hilarious, because I’ve become a cliché.
• He convincingly shows as much distaste for the people I hate as I do. And no, he’s never met any of them.

So, today you got a lot of whining and a little bit of gushing. And basically this is what it’s like to live with me. Wild deviations from “I hate everything!!!” to “Did you know you are the cutest boy alive?” Perhaps there is something to be said for men who find wives just like their mothers….
No, mustn’t think about that. I’m not crazy, I’m adorably quirky. Right?

Just Bought a Cadillac

I think I just had the greatest weekend on the books. Allow me to illustrate:
Friday, I bought more food than any human should be allowed to own, in an array and spectrum of healthfulness that boggles the mind. I bought organic, free-range chicken and boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. I bought organic, locally grown fruits of every color and shape and I bought the family size bag of Twizzlers. See? There is no consistency here. But it’s all delicious.
After purchasing all that food, I couldn’t be bothered to cook, so I ate an enormous, saucy burger from Carl’s Jr. See? The delight continues.

Saturday, while Xtian worked, I slept until 10:30 am (after going to bed before 9 pm and yes, you are all jealous of me). Eventually got up, mustered the motivation to clean the house a bit, and let’s be honest, Xtian did most of the work. That’s what he gets for coming home early apparently.

After a shower, and lunch of frozen food (huzzah for pork shu mai!) I laid on the couch and watched potentially upsetting movies. During an intermission, I made a huge, 6-pound lasagna. Again, yes, you are jealous.

Incidentally, movies watched: Havoc and Amistad. Luckily, Xtian told me the basic plot points of Amistad before we watched so I wasn’t totally horrified, but did have to pause the movie at least 10 times to scream: THESE ARE HUMAN BEINGS!!! ARRRRGH! And other such guttural gibberish. And if you haven’t seen Havoc, allow me to sum up: What did they think was going to happen? I mean, the whole movie is about rich kids who think they are gangsta’s until they meet real gang member, and things don’t turn out well. Again, what did they think was going to happen?

So, yeah, movies and snuggling on the couch and awesome food. Saturday rocked.

Then Sunday upped the ante by bringing me new underwear AND good food AND more movies. I want every weekend to do this. If every weekend delivered bitchin’ food, new panties and movies without any interruption, I’d never have a thing to complain about again.

And in new pregnancy related news, I think my hips are turning out already. You see, I’m supposed to be sleeping on my side these days so as not to “Kill my unborn child by suffocating him/her”. Unfortunately, a few nights ago I was awoken by flaming, surging pain in the hip I was lying on. Now, I have a kick ass mattress, and it’s NEVER hurt before, so I don’t think I can blame the bed. I rolled onto my other side and went back to sleep. About 30 minutes later, I was again awoken by surging, flaming pain, also in the hip I was lying on. The aching awfulness continues, and gets worse each night. So every half hour or so, I’m awoken by pain, only to roll over and repeat the process on the other side.

The only time it doesn’t hurt is while sleeping on my back. Except, then we are back to the whole, cutting off circulation to the vena cava and therefore oxygen to the baby thing. Seriously body? This shit sucks, and I’m freaking tired. And I’m writing it all down here so that when this kid is old enough to understand, I’ll make MC clean my house every day and when he/she asks why? I’m going to say, “Because when you lived in Mommy, you were the worst tenant ever and made Mommy hurt all the time every day. So now, you must make up for your misdoings.” Think that will work?


~~
I haven't mentioned the MIL situation lately because there hasn't been much going on. She pretends I don't exist, and I ignore Xtian's phone ringing 13 times a day. Seems to work. I know that she often asks about "The Baby" and I had wondered how she was still managing to pretend I don't exist since "The Baby" currently LIVES IN ME. I'm still not sure how this works in her head, but I did get a minor glimpse into that thought process.
On Xtian's brother's graduation invitation (Of which TWO were sent to our house, at different times, both addressed the same. Very strange), MIL addressed it to: Xtian Lastname and Family. As far as I'm aware, I'm the only other person who lives in that house and is currently related to Xtian, so apparently, in her head Xtian has this "family" that is producing her grandchild. There is no wife, just this undefined family. It still makes no sense to me, but then again, I'm not mentally ill.
As far as I know.

So, yeah, just to update y'all on that situation.

In which much disdain is rained down upon those mentioned:

First things first: People. Update your blogs! I need more reading material. And there’s only so much time I can read through the descriptions of Personality Disorders, in an attempt to figure out exactly what is wrong with my MIL.
(Note: I think I’ve settled on this guy right here: Narcissistic Personality Disorder.)

AND speaking of which, I don’t think I ever mentioned this story, so I’ll tell it now, since I don’t give a shit.

Last year, I was trying to get friendly with my then-MIL-to-be. She mentioned offhand that she doesn’t speak with her siblings or their children. In fact, she doesn’t keep contact with any of her family. I thought this was strange, but hadn’t yet realized that this woman isn’t a little crazy. She’s clinically insane. She went on to explain that her family came from a lot of money and that she was raised with maids, chauffeurs, nannies etc. She reasoned that she didn’t want her kids being brought up like that, so she broke contact with her family.
This seemed a little extreme to me (Ummm, just raise your kids with some values. You clearly didn’t have much money, so I don’t think the whole “rich entitled” thing would have actually happened) but whatever, I’m playing the role of understanding future daughter-in-law.

Then when we got engaged, and asked her which family members she wanted to invite the wedding, she sent me a 4 page rambling email, telling me in no uncertain terms that I was welcome to invite her family, but then she would absolutely not be attending. Ok, this was just getting plain weird. I responded that of course her feelings were important to us, but that it was equally as important for Xtian to have as much family as he wanted there, and I hoped she could make arrangements to come.

The response was a little horrifying. Several pages of email telling me that her family was all a bunch of perverts and drug dealers. That’s a direct quote. Her sister’s kids were all in jail; her siblings were all perverted individuals who belonged in prison for their crimes. Without saying so outright, she was trying to give the impression that these people were all child molesters who shot up. I showed the email to Xtian who had actually spent a few weeks with these people when he was 17, and none of those things were true.

So, at some point I finally figured out that it’s not that SHE won’t have a relationship with her family. It’s that THEY won’t have a relationship with HER. That’s only two of the different stories she’s told me about her family and not one of them were compatible with the others.

Then a week before the wedding, she decided that she couldn’t afford to come to the wedding since the hotels were just “unreasonable.” Yeah, it’s the bay area and some hotels are really expensive. But there are also Motel 6’s for under $50 a day, and she was only there for a couple of days. She had months of notice, but decided to wait until the week before the wedding to pull some more manipulation. So, some of my family chipped in to help her get a room. Just another way to make sure she was getting the VIP treatment she feels she deserves.

So, yeah, yet another chapter in the Coley’s MIL is Fucking Mentally Ill diaries.

~~


So apparently, I quit the softball a few weeks too soon. They have still YET to win a game, and I missed the brawl last night.

That’s right, BitchFace got into an actual fist fight with a woman on the other team. This is what I call, “Classy.” The story goes like this: BitchFace and her friend Jennie (both women well over 30) got a little sloshed before the game. During the game, there was some intense shit talking between BitchFace and a woman on the other team. After the game, both teams were engaging in the customary handshake and “good game” exchanges. The woman on the other team apparently jumped on BitchFace’s back and started whooping on her. Now, from here I can see defending yourself. But then Jennie started hitting the other woman. Two on one does not a clean/defensive fight make. The rest of the teams pulled the three women apart, the three women were all straining to get back to the fight. It was a this point BitchFace screamed into the other woman’s face, “You FUCKING BITCH!” So, rather than fighting back to get herself out of the situation, she’s upgraded her participation to "fight inciter". Following this, the rest of the players managed to get the three women into their respective cars. Unfortunately, this just started a dangerous chase through the rural suburb. Several folk on our team took off after them just to make sure no one died, and that they didn't just continue the fight on the side of the road.

Just the classiest thing I’ve ever heard. But I guess when you get enough white trash and booze together; these things are bound to happen.

~~

Holy Crap! I'm really hungry. (How's that for a non sequitur?)

So the weekend was mostly delightful. We had a superfun Game Night on Saturday with friends, Sarah took us out for breakfast on Sunday, and I got to watch about 6 hours of Charmed. Just phenomenal. (Although, seriously? When does Shannen Doherty die? I’m really tired of looking at that bitch. I was sure it was during Season three, but I’m almost finished and SHE’S STILL ALIVE!)

Step Grandma is just as crazy as ever, and has decided that I’m her confidant when things are bothering her. So, I’m now fielding an average of 6 phone calls a week wherein she whines and complains and stresses out about things that DO NOT MATTER! She brought her daughter, (the bride and mother to be) to tears by ragging on her eating habits in front of the entire family. Yeah, because you know what’s good for pregnant ladies? A lot of stress and anxiety needlessly brought on by your own mother. Good stuff.

I think I may have finally gotten across to SG that while she’s allowed to worry, she’s NOT allowed to bother my aunt with that shit. The pregnant lady’s stress is far more detrimental to the baby than is the moderate amount of salt she’s eating. But, we’ll see if my lecture actually made an impact. On the plus side, she listened to my tactful lecture without hanging up on me, as she’s been known to do. So, maybe this wedding won’t be quite the shitstorm I’m fearing.

Who am I kidding? Every event our family touches involves someone getting lit on fire, someone cooking the main course without removing the plastic wrap, or someone getting blitzed and telling people some REALLY inappropriate things over the toast.

~~

Over game night I told my oldest friend, Mel (er, the friend I’ve known the longest, rather) about Mocha Cub, and so it was all fun and delightful. Until her friend, whom I’ve also known for several years, started talking. Her friend, we’ll call her C, is not exactly couth, and has not lost that 20-year-old-I-know-everything arrogance.

So here’s how the conversation goes.

Coley: We’re having a baby!
Mel: YAY! Congratulations, I can’t believe it that’s awesome!
C: Congratulations…there’re so many pregnant women at my work, and man! Pregnant ladies are bitches.

Really? That’s what you thought it would be ok to say right now? Really?

Later in the evening C was giving us a dissertation on how “No Parents Have Any Idea What They Are Doing and Only I Know the Right Way to Raise Kids.”
Now I know that everyone is guilty of judging parents and saying some ignorant shit about, “My kids will NEVER be allowed to watch tv!” But, really this was too much. Any time someone says something that applies to “all” parents or babies, I call bullshit. When I attempted to say something to the effect of, “Well that may be true for some, but there’s a reason there are so many books written on the subject, kids react differently,” I was met with absolutism, “No. If something is tired, it will sleep. Parents are just stupid by running to their kid when they cry.” I’d like to watch her tell that to the parents of a 3 month old. I don’t think she’d make it out alive.

Not every child is the same, and so why would the exact same behavior training work on every kid? It won’t. I just love the arrogance, as though millions of people have been having children for millions of years, but ONLY C knows how to do it right. Especially since C does not have children of her own. And for those of us who have babysat, or teach children, that does NOT mean you know how to raise children.

It was just too much for Coley, and I had to leave the room.

This is not to say that C is a bad person. She’s generally lovely. But that whole arrogant naiveté is more than a little irritating.

~~~

Oh man, I know turnover is just a part of work, but it’s getting comical around here. In an office of about 70 people, I can think of 4 people who’ve left in the last 5 days. That’s a lot of people. I wonder when management figures out that reducing turnover, saves them money?

~~
So, last week I mentioned Crazy MIL sending us bible workbooks. But what I forgot to mention (and Sarah pointed out to me) was that the other things she sent us, were photocopies of flyers that would be passed out on busy street corners. Like, she got a flyer, photocopied it and mailed it to her son. And these weren’t things that were useful. They were like, coupons for Los Angeles based businesses, or somebody’s bullshit political flyer.

I think Faith said it best: What does that MEEEAAN?

Crazy Old Bags.

Saturday will hold some challenges. Namely my step-grandma. As designated wedding organizer (really involves making lists, assigning tasks and some handholding), I’m supposed to go with my 21-year old aunt and my step-grandma to start getting flower ideas. There have already been two anxiety attacks just in planning the outing. One because my step-grandma’s (SG) house was designated for the meeting place. That’s it. Her apartment is the most central location, so my aunt decided it would be easiest to meet there. When I relayed this to SG, there was a full minute of silence. Followed by defensive questions, followed by a brief sobbing jag. Jesus. Tomorrow is going to kill me. She only let it go when I finally said, we won’t go inside, we’ll just meet out front. (Yeah, because you know what two pregnant ladies should be doing? Oh yeah, waiting around in 90 degree heat. Fucking awesome).

The next anxiety attack occurred over the length of the bridesmaid dresses in relation to the formality of the wedding dress. I’m a strong believer in “Who gives a shit if everything matches. It’s a wedding, let the couple do what they want and everyone will have fun!” But apparently, because the bridesmaid dresses are NOT floor length, SG thinks they are too casual to jive with the formal wedding dress. It took five minutes of me explaining that shorter bridesmaid dresses are more fashionable now. And that no one equates length with relative formality anymore.

So, if THESE are the big issues that have my SG freaking out, four weeks before the wedding, how are we going to get her through the week before? My answer: tranquilizer darts. It may be the only way.

Too bad I’m involved in all this while gestating. Because a big, tall, frosty Captain and Coke sounds like it would really hit the spot right now. And every day I deal with crazy people and weddings. Everyone remember the drinking binge I went on prior to the Coley-Xtian Wedding Extravagantastica last year? Because I do. And that was my own wedding where pretty much everyone involved was bending over backwards to be accommodating, supportive and helpful. I can’t imagine how my poor aunt deals with the ball of nutjob that is her mother.

So, this wedding may be the greatest shitshow ever, or it might just turn out nicely in spite of the old bag.


~~~
Oh, and for those loving on my crazy MIL stories, the avalanche of mail has begun anew. I think impending Mocha Cub has her fearing for our souls. In the mail, we got photocopied church-type flyers AND the monthly 7th Day Adventist Bible workbook. I've never seen anything like it. I don't even know how to describe it. Xtian wouldn't let me take pictures of it, so I'm sorry that would have been fun. (Luckily, I doubt that's the last time we'll be seeing that!) I tried to compromise by shredding the 150 page booklet into ribbons and sending it back to her, but Xtian lost his nerve on that one too. I even offered him $5 to mail it back like that, which he considered. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Damn. That would have made for some AMAZING stories, I'm sure.

Only 4 more days until the weekend!

Friday at work was probably one of the most exhausting days I’ve ever had, without getting ANY work done. The reason: I was wrangling 5 teenagers all day. Aaron has been slacking off lately, regardless of my attempts to motivate him, and as a result, was so far behind on his work we had to bribe employees’ children to come in on Friday to help out.

Mostly these were nice kids who only complained hourly about WORKING, and “when are we getting paid anyway? How much are we getting paid? Are we done yet?” And I didn’t have to break up any fights, which was good. But kids are just tiresome. Especially 5 of them at once all within a year or two of age.

They were working in the lunchroom most of the day, so I had the two doors between us open so I could keep an ear out for them. One girl in particular NEVER STOPPED TALKING. The whole day, I don’t think she took a breath. About par for course on a 15-year-old, I know. But I almost lost my shit entirely when I heard this same girl whining to her mom later, “The other kids just kept TALKING! I couldn’t get them to shut up all day. I’m so tired of hearing other people’s voices.” I actually snorted from trying to hold in my laughter. Ah, teenagers. It’s always someone else’s shortcoming.

And at least I didn’t come out of the day wanting to be sterilized. And I think that makes it a rousing success.

~~~

My 21-year-old aunt (the one getting married) and her mother asked for my help in organizing the wedding planning. So on Saturday I drove with my step-grandmother in blinding rain to the wedding site. A mere 50 miles from my house. Oh, and to top it all off, as I was pulling onto the freeway, my step grandma (SG) mentioned, “I get panic attacks on freeways.” Oh, this is going to be AWESOME! Mostly she was fine and I could ignore her sobbing and whimpering, but then she begged me to slow down from the scorching speed of 45 MPH on the freeway, while other cars sped past us at 80 MPH. Of course this only served to terrify her more, so there were several tense minutes.

The wedding site is gorgeous and pretty neat. I was pleased with what I had to work with, and the visit was really successful in helping me plan better. On the way there and back I attempted to keep up some conversation with SG, mostly about the wedding. It was during this that she mentioned, “I don’t know anything about the groom’s family and I want to keep it that way.”

Oh, excellent! That’s the right attitude, absolutely. I turned to her and said, “Well you better get over that, because they are about to be YOUR family too.”

My best guess here is that SG blames the groom for my aunt getting knocked up. Yeah, because my aunt wasn’t party to the activities at all, right? She’s the innocent bystander in all this? Of course she is, and SG is perfectly sane. *ahem*

So, it’s kind of refreshing to see in-law issues from the other side and know that sometimes, MIL’s are just fucking nuts and there isn’t much you can do but ignore their crazy asses.

Let the Kvetching Begin!

So, this pissed me off and I felt the need to discuss.

I was out sick for a couple days last week, and had a planned vacation day Monday, so today is my first day back in the office. My work husband, Eric, dropped in to ask how I was feeling. He then mentioned that he had to go, since he’s not supposed to be in here.

Yes, that’s right. HR has “unofficially” told him that he’s spending too much time in my office chatting. About three times a week, he’ll drop in for a five-minute chat. Clearly, this is a problem. I’m so annoyed about this, especially since our HR department consists of one person who always plays “SuperNiceConcernedPerson” role whenever I see her. She’s not. She’s just like many other HR folks, whether they intend to be or not. She’s not an advocate for employees, she’s there to protect the company at all costs, including human costs.

If Eric’s occasional chats with me are a problem, I expect to be spoken with as well. At least given a chance to defend myself without all this backdoor politicking. I hate that shit, and I always will.

Another thing I must share: My MIL is at it again, only this time, she’s fighting my mother.

After last fall’s…unpleasantness, I’ve just pretended that my mother in law didn’t exist. No communication, and so far it’s been fine. While visiting my mother this weekend, she told me that my MIL has now targeted my mom.

My mom sent MIL a Xmas card, just like she sent everyone else. MIL returned it, unopened and sent my mom an email stating that my mother was NOT to contact MIL or her family. My mom replied and wrote: I will respect your wishes, but if you change your mind, I’m here.

(That bitch! I know! (note: sarcasm)

My MIL bounced the email back and wrote: I told you NOT to contact me!

Last week, she even sent back the invitation to my wedding shower (for those playing the home version, the wedding shower occurred a year ago. Good timing!)

This, if nothing else, just smacks of crazy, classlessness. And yes, I’m here venting it all on the internet, but it’s one thing to get all fucked up Crazy Lady on me. But to treat my mother like that? This bitch has to go. And then she wonders why her husband left her, her sons want little to do with her, she does not have friends, and can not find/keep gainful employment. But, clearly, EVERYONE ELSE is the problem. She’s the only one doing right.

What a fucking bitch.

~~

Other than all that shit, things are fine. Saw my brother for his 21^st birthday, bought him a drink, then begged off early since my head was going to fall off from the hurting. I spent a delightful weekend snuggled up with my family, and got home with enough time to relax and unwind a bit. Just a wonderful weekend.

I hope all is well for y’all!

Here we go again.

Ah, the headache is upon us. But we couldn’t leave for the weekend without a quick story.

So, Xtian got his mother and brother, respectively, gift cards for Xmas, and I got his brother a book. I certainly wasn’t going to give her anything, for fear it would re-ignite the “relationship.” But Xtian signed my name to the card. They received their gifts the day after Xmas (since they only have a PO box and it’s closed on holidays). When Xtian’s presents arrived without any mention of me, I was relieved. In the back of my head was fear that something awkward, nasty or embarrassing to Xtian would go down.

Well, evidently, Xtian’s need to sign my name to the card inspired his mother to get me something. A few days after Xmas, his mother called him to ask what I like. He told her I like books, and was really into a few authors. (Note: easy to find authors at any used bookstore in the country). All of this was unbeknownst to me.

I got home from work yesterday to find a package from his mother. I told Xtian I’d just as soon return it, but that would really throw gas on the embers. At the very least, I wasn’t going to open it, but he was welcomed to it. Inside were two books and a movie.
Before I specify, if you’ve ever met me, heard of me, seen me on the street, you’d probably know that I love books. And by books, I mean real books. I don’t care for books of quotes, or inspirational sayings. Chicken Soup for the Whatever Soul is never on my reading list. I like books with a full storyline, whether it’s a history, biography, fiction whatever.
So, one book was a compilation of things said by Jim Henson. Not so offensive, but also, never anything another human would give me. The other was a picture book called “I Hope You Dance” based on the godawful Leanne Womack song. Again, anyone who has ever had any contact with me could place that in my top 10 “Most Retarded Things Ever Committed to Paper” list.

But here’s where it gets a little ridiculous, and hilarious. The movie. Just guess. Seriously, give it a try.


---
Monster-in-Law.
Now, from anyone else, this would have been hilarious. But my experiences with this woman lead me to believe only a few possibilities: 1. She’s never seen this movie.
2. Since she has no sense of humor, she absolutely doesn’t understand the irony and thinks I’m really into J Lo. 3. She’s showing how much worse it could be. 4. Or someone was giving away a bunch of shit at street bazaar and she didn’t even bother looking at any of it before shoving it into a shipping envelope. 5. She thinks this will be a good way to bridge the gap.

Oh, and as a fun sidenote: for a wedding present, this same woman gave me the movie “Stepford Wives.” Again, no irony included.

I just couldn’t stop laughing while Xtian systematically shredded the books and tossed the pieces into the recycling bin, and broke the movie into little tiny bits.

Part of me is really hoping that Xtian’s brother put it into the package. At least that would make sense.

And of course, it’s 4pm on a Friday, and all hell just broke loose. So, up, up and away in my beautiful, my beautiful Balloon.

Jingle Bells: seriously shut up.

So, there's a woman who works near my office. She's very strange in ways I can't really describe (always looks frightened in a Large kind of way, talks in really excited tones about things that aren't really exciting at all: such as PAPERCLIPS! and TOAST!). But her most defining characteristic would have to be her walk. It's more of an upper-body forward leaning stomp. Kind of a march with momentum. It's obnoxious to begin with, and today she's added....a freaking jingle bell.

Festive.

F'ing A is today going to be long.

Can I officially call a moratoriam on clothing or accessories that MAKE NOISE? At least noise I can hear from more than 10 inches away? How precious is this fucking holiday season going to get?

~~~~

In other news, my MIL (you remember, the psychotic one?) has apparently decided I no longer exist. This is so stupid, I just had to share it.
Yesterday, in the mail was a 2 foot long, 1 foot wide envelope. Xtian took one look and said, "Oh god. It's from my mother." Now in the past, everything we received in the mail from her has been addressed to "Xtian and Coley." This was addressed to Xtian only. So, I started giggling.
Then Xtian opened it, and it's an obnoxiously large Xmas card with some dumbass cartoon character or something on it. Totally weak yet ridiculous.

On the inside some personalized note was scrawled to the effect of, "Xtian, I hope you are having a wonderful season, I *heart* you, Xtian, Mommy" and the preprinted message had the word "family" underlined about 9 times. (I think she just forgot to write "Only Xtian and NOT Coley.")
I consider this the equivalent of being 5 years old, getting mad at, for example, your dad. So, to show your displeasure, you draw a picture of the whole family, except dad. And inscribe it, "I love mommy, and sister, and brother and dog, and parakeet and NOT DAD! Everyone but DAD is good, and fun, but DAD is mean and icky!"
It couldn't have been more juvenile and petty if it had been scrawled in crayon.
I haven't been able to stop laughing since I saw it.

Just amazing.

In continuing with our latest theme...

So, let’s all take a moment and, as a favor to me, hope that my current bout of total self-loathing is just some NASTY PMS. Because, clearly, my body has not decided on any cycle at all. And, out of the blue, decided to screw with me again with cramps so bad they WOKE ME OUT OF A DEAD SLUMBER. So, again for those playing the home game, try number two was a rousing failure. Really not helping with the whole “feeling completely useless as a human” thing I’ve got going on lately.

I suppose my sad-bastard music isn’t really helping me get out of funk. But, geez, I can’t stop listening to Counting Crows’ Colorblind. Saddest sounding song I’ve found this week. But, perhaps some Aimee Mann will beat that out for top spot.

Xtian is starting to speak to his mother again. But, this time, HE actually gets a chance to SPEAK. Which has never really happened before. Mostly they're still fighting, but at least both people are yelling, rather than having the yeller (her) and the yellee (he). I’m still not having any relationship or contact with her, and frankly, I think it’s for the best. I know I get roped into her crazy games too easily, so I’m just taking myself out of that. At least I can save my own sanity if I can’t get her to recognize her own insanity. And next year Brother turns 18, and can get the hell away from her if he chooses, so I can stop worrying about him.

~~
In other news, for the first time in my life, I’m trying to let people know when something they’ve done/said hurts my feelings. It only took 24 years, but I’ve realized that I’m allowed to have feelings. Yes, I also have a sense of humor about myself (see: every post on this damn blog), but that doesn’t mean people don’t hurt me. I usually just skip over it, or pretend it didn’t bother me, when really it does. Then I sit and stew about it and harbor negative feelings for people. Sounds healthy, eh? Yeah, I didn’t think so.
I still mostly suck at it, and tell people “oh, no it’s fine. You’re right, I do suck!” Turns out I’m not very good at admitting to my own vulnerability.

Untitled (oops, I guess that's an oxymoron)

Well, I guess we all knew it would happen. I just hoped it wouldn’t. Xtian’s brother will NOT be joining us for Christmas this year. And not only that, the way we found out was via voicemail from the MIL of INSANITY. And I quote, “Brother will not be flying ANYWHERE. He HAS a mother.” Yeah, can anyone say ouch? And now I just want to kill her for lashing out like this. Her only aim is to hurt her son, and that is unacceptable. But at least Brother will be 18 in 11 months. And then he will at least have some options. Like getting the hell away from a mother who is clearly mentally ill.

It just hurts seeing Xtian hurt.

~~

I’m feeling a funk descending again. I’m feeling sad and hopeless for no freakin’ reason. I have no desire to do anything but lay on the couch and stare at the blank TV screen.
I did get a reprieve from my own self-indulgent malaise last night, though. Jen came over and we made some fabulous food, and chatted on the couch. It was nice to shake off the funk for a bit and just BE.

I’m glad I have the weekend to hibernate from social obligations. I foresee a little shopping, perhaps catching a movie, and otherwise just snuggling on the couch without words. Sounds about right.

If you give me any Candy Corn, I'll TP your house, motherf*cker

You know, for the last few years, Halloween has really lost all fun for me. I’m not a big costume person. Rarely do I come up with anything fabulous, and if I do, I almost never get the motivation to put the costume together. Halloween sneaks up on me. It’s like I look at a calendar around October 3rd, and think “Oh yeah, Halloween is coming up. I should figure out a costume.” Then I forget all about it until 10 pm October 30th. I just suck.

As a kid, I loved Halloween because, as you may have realized, I love candy with a passion. And, strangers handing free candy out? Really?!? Sign me up.
But, you hit the teen years, and Halloween is more or less women’s excuse to dress in ways they normally wouldn’t. Oh, yeah, and drinking a lot. But, I learned a long while ago, that I just can’t drink and get to work the next day. I just can’t. I’m old that way.

So, what’s the point, eh? Add Halloween to the list of things that have stopped being fun. OR just add it to the list titled “Ways You Can Tell Coley Is Old and Crotchety.”

Although, I am interested to see what befalls my neighborhood tonight. On a normal day, it’s not uncommon to find crack-smoking-paraphernalia on my stoop. What ghetto-ridiculousness can the crack-heads come up with?

~~~

So, my beautiful lady Sarah mentioned to a colleague of hers that I’d thrown my back out. His response “She should exercise and strengthen those back muscles.” To which Sarah said, “she does.” He replied with a sarcastic, “Sure she does.”

I find it interesting (just for you Sarah), that this person felt comfortable, not only diagnosing the problem, but also questioning my lifestyle and habits. Especially interesting because this person has never met me, spoken to me or seen me in passing. I realize it’s kind of a human foible to try to give advice to those with problems. I realize humans also like to pass judgment on each other, because they would never be stupid/out-of-shape/clumsy/etc to have that problem. But it still irks me. So, a big “FUCK OFF” to that guy.


Speaking of my back, I’m feeling pretty good now. The pain is lessening, and I’ve been sleeping well and moving around enough to keep loose. But, like an ass, this is when I always do something stupid to re-injure myself. For example, this morning, I found myself hoisting a 30 lb Alhambra water bottle onto my shoulder to replace the empty one in the dispenser in the break room. Clearly, I am not to be trusted with my own recovery.
~~~

Ever since I decided and put into writing that I would cut all contact with my MIL, I’ve felt completely unburdened. I’m not angry about the nastiness, I’m not hurt by her behavior, I’m just ok. Sure, she’s crazy, but I don’t have to deal with it at all. I know Xtian is still bothered by it, but I feel pretty great. (This could also being the painkillers and muscle relaxants talking, but screw it, I feel awesome). I guess having a plan really does help, thanks mom!

K, I'm off to find something to do for the next hour or so.

Mmm, prescription meds...

So, rather than drinking my weekend away, as I’d planned, I spent it horizontal. And not in a good way.
While on my run Saturday morning, I took a step, and felt the entire left side of my back…give. That’s right I threw my back out. I’m officially 90 years old.

So, I shuffled back home, attempted to do laundry and shower with mixed results. So, I decided that spending the day on the couch was my best chance at survival. Spending a day on the couch sounds like heaven. But not being physically ABLE to leave the couch just makes me crazy. Clearly, I need to get over it and should be spending my day working. Because laundry gets done on Saturday, for no reason other than, that’s how I like it. (Yes, OCD I am.)
It kept getting worse until Sunday morning, when I finally managed to see a doctor (substory: someone at my union office is shirking their job, because when I got the doctor, I was informed that no insurance was showing up for me. Umm, coverage was supposed to have started on September 1, so huh?).
A bottle of painkillers and a bottle of muscle relaxants later, I’m almost able to fully function.

Freaking Awesome.

More drama arose in the MIL situation, of course. There’s been a lot more than I’ve let on here, but suffice to say, I tried to make some efforts to get past this, establish some rules for conduct and heal this relationship. I was sincere in my efforts, but it bit me in the ass again.
This time a letter was sent to my PARENTS as well as Xtian, talking trash about me and full of lies and misrepresentations. Or so I hear. Since I blocked all her email addresses, I didn’t get the letter. Instead, my father called my husband to let him know about the letter, and to not let me read it. Seeing his reactions after Xtian read it, I was fully convinced that I didn’t need to read it.

My question here is: What does she think a letter to my parents will accomplish? Will they take her side? Umm, yeah, talk shit about a person’s kid; see how far that gets you. My guess: not very far. Did she think my parents have some power to punish me? Not since I moved out, 6 years ago.

But, I’ve come to a decision. This woman is pure poison, and I am not even going to pretend to have a relationship with her. Xtian is her son, and he may choose to maintain a relationship with her, if he likes. I, on the other hand, have decided to not talk to her, or receive communications from her. I don’t want her calling my work, my cell, or my home phone. I’m out. I’m trying to use reason and logic with a person who is incapable of reasonable thought. I’m thoroughly convinced that this woman will never be mentally sound enough to deal with the human population. And until that changes, I’m not going to be drawn into her insanity.

To quote my beautiful Sarah, I have to do what’s best for me and for my family. Luckily, I have a wonderful mama and dad, who are doing the best they can to keep us all happy, and protected.
Poor Xtian is mortified at having his mother’s nastiness made apparent to my family, whom he loves and is still trying to impress. But, this entire experience has made it clear to me that Xtian’s tolerance for insanity has no bounds. Which I guess is good for me. I know now that no matter how crazy I end up, he can handle it. Heheehe.*sigh*

Right, I’m going to take some more drugs and get my ass to work. Thanks for all the love in the comments. Makes me feel a little better about a crappy situation.