Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Haunted Houses...

I don't know how many of you believe in ghosts, or spirits or energies.  I happen to firmly believe.  I live in a house filled with energy.  My stepfather and my grandmother both died here within months of each other, not to mention that my grandpa had already been hanging around in spirit for about 20 years and my brother about 10.  Then my uncle passed away and he manifests as a sneaky little boy like my mom remembers him from her teenage years.  

If I wasn't already a nut job, living in a haunted house might do it.  You'd think anyway.  But this isn't my first one actually, I've been a haunted person for longer than I can remember so I'm rather used to it.  The hard part here is that it's people I love and wish I could have back.  Why I'm so lonely for them in death I don't know, I wasn't very nice to them in life for the most part.  Maybe this is my Karma?  Perhaps.



I'm also faced daily with the memories and the belongings I've not been given permission to part with or pack away.  So I guess in a way I'm trying to justify my crazy showing because of these things.  Really though, it's probably just cuz I'm fucking nuts and I'm embarrassed by it.  Moving on...I FINALLY got my anti depressants refilled today so I'll be feeling much better by the end of the week and all will be well again in loonyville ;).  
Here's a youtube video of Memphis. You can subscribe to my channel there if you want, I post mostly videos of him there :)

Until next time...
j

Monday, June 24, 2013

Water Water Everywhere...

Yeah, I live in the desert.  It's hot here and I grew up drinking water with no problem.  In fact, as kids we were only allowed one soda a day if we were good and only at dinner if we ate what mom told us to.  I carry a water bottle wherever I go.  Like, literally everywhere. I don't even have to be going more than two blocks away and I've got my water with me.  My sons on the other hand won't drink anything that isn't flavored.  So I have a HELL of a time getting anything not carbonated or sugar filled into any of them.

Morgen will occasionally drink plain ice water but it's rare.  In the very heat of the summer, he takes water bottles with him, but at home, it's soda or juice or a punch type drink.  Maxwell will literally gag on plain water.  He's such a drama queen it's ridiculous and I want to laugh at him when he does it, but I try to hold back for the sake of the other children.  Then there's little Mr Peanuts aka Memphis.  His drink of choice is without a doubt boobies, but there are the times when it's not possible or practical.  Like when I'm not around, or when we're at the bus stop and the bus is just at the next light and he swears he is going to die if he doesn't get something to drink.

So there is a constant dilemma in our house as to how to get the boys to drink plain water.  It's a non issue with my daughter, she'll drink water all day long, but the boys we have to sneak it in.  So we've taken to those little bottles of water flavoring.   You know the kind right?  The little squeeze bottle, that you can put however much you'd like in there.  We've figured that a tiny bit of flavor and sugar in a whole lot of water has got to be better than a bunch or no water at all (which Maxwell has done on more than one occasion).  I was very fortunate to stumble upon the chance to try a newish product and I'm glad to say that the boys LOVE IT!!



Mio Fit sent us a full size sample to try out for free, plus some coupons to try out some other flavors as well at our leisure because these little bottles taste best if used within a month of opening.  I'm positive ours won't last that long with all three boys drinking it, and I'm sure when I go to Los Angeles on Thursday I'll have a bottle or two myself. There is a regular Mio, but the Mio Fit has electrolytes and B vitamins, so it's got a little extra!  We got the Arctic Grape flavored and I think it tastes great, not too sweet, and just enough tart.  It's tasty and refreshing when cold, but Max didn't like it when it got room temperature, so I'll just make sure to keep his portions a bit smaller.

On a side note, I have been getting out quite a bit the last little bit.  My sister in law is in school to be a med tech and I went to school with her one night to volunteer as a pin cushion.  I'm going to be honest here...hers were great and didn't hurt a bit, left no bruise and on the one arm didn't even leave a mark the next day.  The other arm another lady had taken a turn and where as she didn't do anything wrong and did just as good of a job, did not have NEARLY as gentle a touch and it hurt a bit, plus, that one stick in the three left a little bit of a bruise.

I also got a very generous birthday gift and was able to go get my hair cut for the first time in FIVE YEARS. Yep you read that right, FIVE YEARS!!!  That my friends is a blog all in its self, but I will say it took two  hours and the guy was great fun.  He did exactly what I wanted and I love the cut, plus it wasn't extreme or dramatic, but just enough of a lift to make me feel really good about myself.  I'm very thankful for my early birthday presents :)  I also got a really pretty green and white tie die sun dress that I can't wait to wear for more than just a walk around the block, I have a Dr. appointment on my actual birthday so I might wear it that day just to be festive, lol.   That and it makes me feel pretty.

I got rid of five of the puppies.  My daughter talked me into keeping one for herself and I'd fallen in love with that little tan male very early on and was pretty sure he was going to be staying.  Don't judge, I'm pretty sure my dogs are all that keeps us from getting robbed and that's no joke.  Both of my next door neighbors have been broken into plus 7 others on my street, I'm keeping my dogs, lol.  Last night was their first night "on the loose" and it was glorious.  I'll tell you, two puppies playing with their older sister under my bed is SO MUCH better than seven screaming puppies at hourly intervals starting at 4 am.  That, and they're turning out to be a lot like Tinker in that they are already pretty much puddle pad trained, so stepping in puppy shit was a non issue.

With that, I'm going to leave you to go discuss full moons and Juniper bushes with my son Maxwell as we plan to have a candle circle in the backyard tonight in honor of the super moon (and yes I know that was last night but Memphis has been throw up sick and I didn't want to deal with that last night too).  Until next time...
J

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Seventeen years ago...

Parts of it are forever etched into my mind, others got lost in those moments that my heart stopped beating and there was no oxygen to my brain.  There are bits and pieces of a lot of things like that.  That day, I wish I could remember every detail.

I remember that R slept more than I thought any man with a wife in labor should.  I remember that after so many false alarms and so many shots to prevent it, I was so happy to FINALLY be having my baby.  I remember thinking that I didn't know what I was going to do with two daughters. (But in turned out they were very wrong and I had a son instead.)

I don't remember the drive there.  I don't remember the sound of his cries, or the smell of his hair after they'd bathed him.  I don't remember they was it felt to put him to my breast that first time.

It had gone all wrong anyway.  This wasn't how it was meant to be.  I labored so long, after 11 weeks of going into preterm labor and it being stopped to finally allow labor to progress at 37 weeks it stalled and I needed pitocin.  I remember that pain.  My first child I'd had with no medication or intervention so I had planned to do it again.  Plans change.  I remember the pain, the gut wrenching, vomit inducing, horrifying pain that was nothing compared to what I had felt before and what had given me the courage to try this again.  I should have known something wasn't quite right then.  They gave me stadol, and it did nothing.  I got an epidural, but it only took on half of my body thanks to my crooked spine.  There was no relief during the 40 hours of labor that was a roller coaster of hell.  In retrospect, that's probably why my brain chose to forget so much of that day.

When it finally came time to push, it took forever.  My daughter slid out in 3 easy pushes.  My first son, well, he had other plans.  Two hours of pushing and his heart rate started to dip and I was told if I didn't push him out on my own they would take him with forceps so I pushed with every fiber of my being and out came a little blonde head of hair.

All the doctor said was "Uh oh, we've got a cleft" and instead of placing my hard earned baby on my stomach as was my birth plan, they didn't even give R the chance to cut the cord, they whisked him away.  I'm sure he cried, but I don't for my life remember it.  His apgar was 9/9, so he must have.  My doctor said very little, and I layed there and just cried.  I don't remember delivering the placenta, I don't remember being sewn back up from the episiotomy, I just remember the staff was very quiet as they cleaned us up and called for pediatrics.  Not a nicu team, and at the time I understood that was good, but I couldn't grasp why they needed to call the doctor.

Then they handed me my son.  I peeked into the little bundle and he had the most amazingly clear blue eyes. His eyes bore straight into my soul from the moment our eyes met.  I didn't even glance down until minutes later because I was so mesmerized by his eyes!  He had a head FULL of curls, light blonde, fluffy, curls.  But as I looked down I could see he was not an average baby.  I know I didn't try to nurse him right away because I didn't understand.  I had never seen a cleft that was not repaired so I didn't comprehend what I was looking at.  You see, his was pretty severe.  Bilateral stage 4 cleft lip and palate to be exact.  We'd had no prenatal diagnosis, although we should have, it would have been easy to see on an ultrasound.  My doctor was just, well, a shitty doctor.

I had a few issues with some of the nursing staff and we ended up going through many varieties of feeding supplies to find a way for him to eat, but in the first five days of his life, he lost almost a pound.  Way more than he should have, but I ended up being able to nurse him a little until we got him to Children's Hospital in Los Angeles.  When we got him down there, we learned how to feed him easily and I pumped my milk for him for as long as I could.

Fast forward to now....He's seventeen today.  Boy oh boy is he a big one too!  He's damn near 6 foot tall and still has those gorgeous eyes.  He's an amazing young man and I love him more than I ever would have dreamed possible.  He's taught me more about myself than I would have thought and he teaches me more every single day.  I am blessed to have a kid as cool and helpful as he is....even if he does stink!!

Until next time....
J

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Communal Living...

This might be a long one, so settle in a minute or thirty.  When you read that title, what do you think of?  I think of things like college dorms, room mates in your 20's, that kind of thing right?  I really never anticipated living with my mother at almost 40.  I didn't move here because I had to, in fact, quite the opposite.  I moved here because if I hadn't she would have lost this house and it's the only constant thing that I've ever had in my entire life.  Let me explain.

Growing up, I lived in the same town, but we moved on average once a year or once every 18 months.  In retrospect, I do understand that some of those moves were situations that were beyond my parents control, but in truth, some of them were just really poor choices on their part as well.  I know this, because I'm guilty of making some of those same poor choices in my own adult life.  You live what you learn, right?  Anyway, so we moved a lot and I HATE moving.  There was always this house, my grandparents house to come to.  This was my maternal grandparents house who are now both deceased.  My paternal grandparents are both still living and we are far from close.  Not sure why I felt I had to mention that but I did.  So when I needed somewhere to run, this is where I came.  This is where I came when I was 15 and the people that lived behind us were threatening to break into our house while my mom was at work and rape and kill me.  This is the house I came to when I was recovering from having my gallbladder taken out and my then boyfriend told me the laporoscopic scars were too ugly for him to be with me anymore.  This is where I've always come when I needed something and had nowhere else to turn.

All of that changed in April of 2012 when my grandmother died.  She always, without fail, bailed me out of every mess I'd ever needed her to.  Financial, emotional, physical, it didn't matter, she was there for me.  I could not call her for weeks and pick up the phone and ask to borrow a months rent and she'd come through.  Imagine going from having that to having no one.  And in truth, that is NOT the case.  I still have an "in case of emergency" person, but it's not quite the same in ANY respect (and if you read this, I hope you understand and do not take offense to the way I'm wording that, you've been kinder to me and more generous with your time and money than I've ever deserved). I feel more alone than I have ever felt in my life.  I can't begin to describe the feeling of loneliness that comes with knowing that the person you always counted on is gone.  Add to that that they left you with a big old mess to clean up and I'm so lost I don't know what to do.  I never realized how deep she'd gotten herself bailing out EVERYONE, because as it turned out, I was not the only one with my hand out.  In fact, I was the one least likely to ask her for help and that was why I had been her favorite.  I remember her telling me all the time that no one ever called her unless they needed money.  I had thought at the time she meant me.  Now I know different.  She was a checkbook to too damn many people and it's no wonder she gave up living.

Back to the topic at hand.  So she died and my mom quickly discovered that this house was too much for her on her little allotment of social security.  She has no other source of income, her husband left her with nothing and her mother left everything but the house to her brother who promptly died in a car wreck (and everything went to his wife who won't help us with a thin dime).  We tried for a very short few months to float our house across town and her house too and it just didn't work.  Our options were very limited.  Sell this house and put my mom in an assisted living facility, and leave my mom to mourn and grieve these terrible losses alone, or move here.  In doing so I did not realize I was giving up my independence entirely.  But it seems I did.  I had to leave utilities unpaid to maintain the bills here, I had to leave my old landlord in the lurch which meant I had to leave my appliances behind as payment, some of which were literally brand new, and in the process of moving our whole house in our mini van yet again, it broke down.  I still haven't gotten it fixed.  I can't afford to.  So now I'm stuck.  I have an extremely limited income myself.  When we moved here, my husband was still on unemployment from his previous job, of course that has since run out.  So he took over my mom's in home support services hours which is a program run by the county so it is a real job IT IS NOT GOVERNMENT ASSISTANCE, please don't be confused by that part.  My use of government assistance I will not speak about here.  Period.  The fact is, he does have a job, but he doesn't leave home to do it.  The problem with said job is, he's not getting paid for it at the moment, so it's been since December that he's been doing it, but he's not gotten paid for it yet.  When he does get paid (which is on the horizon) it's going to be retroactive to when he started so it'll be a hefty check, but still, it's sucked hard.  We BARELY get by.  And by get by, I mean we hit food banks most months and ask family members and friends for help.  Yes, I do own an ipad.  Yes, I do have a cell phone.  Why?  My cell is prepaid and has all of 12 minutes on it and my ipad I bought with my tax refund.  Besides paying off utilities and buying my daughter a nook I didn't do much else with it.  Every piece of jewelry I own has been pawned now.  Including the wedding set my grandma left me when she died.  My husband's ipad was pawned also because we figured we could share.  We keep our cable/internet/phone because well, that's not in our name and we don't pay that bill.  When that was up to me, we didn't have anything but basic internet and phone (I have to have a landline for my pacemaker's communicator) and we had netflix and hulu and no cable.  But I'm not in charge here.

That's the main issue.  I'm not in charge here.  And that is an adjustment for someone like me.  I can't afford this house.  I can't afford to continue to watch people waste frivolously like there is some magical food fairy bringing it all here to keep my mom happy.  It's driven me crazy.  I do mean literally crazy.  Like, I don't leave my room hardly ever.  I don't have an en suite bathroom so obviously I leave it to go to the bathroom across the hall, but past that, I can go WEEKS without going downstairs with the help of my enablers.  I do this to avoid conflict.  I do this because I can't stand to see the ruin this house has become.  I do this because I can't stand to live in a dirty house that has nick knacks on every horizontal surface.  I do this BECAUSE THIS IS NOT MY HOUSE.  I do this because I feel like I don't live here, I feel like I'm a prisoner here.  This is the prison I've made for myself.  I don't know how to change it and I don't know what to do.  I do suffer from agoraphobia.  Pretty bad social anxiety disorder and clinical depression.  I'm just one big ball of fucked up and living in this body, how could I not be?  I'm no longer a functional human being.  I can leave, but it's hard for me to do so, but at this point, I'd rather be anywhere in the world than where I am.

Every time I turn around, there is yet ANOTHER thing to go wrong.  The most recent issue is our refrigerator which is only a couple years old.  Well, we went shopping, filled it up and my mom thought she needed to adjust the knobs or something, my husband did too, and the knob wars began and now the fridge is broken.  Of course, everyone is flat fucking broke so now...all the food's spoiled, my husband spent the day yesterday "too sick" to do anything because he ate something out of it anyway even though I told him not to if it smelled funny, and I have no way to replace the food or repair or replace that thing until either he gets that back pay or the beginning of July.  Fun times right?  Right.

I don't want to live in a place that makes me want to hide in my room.  But I'm so lost and don't know what to do now that I don't know how to change it.  I'm reminded of my growing up, and how we interacted when I was a kid.  I fall back into those patterns even though the truth of it is, I'm bringing more to the table right now than she is.  If I hadn't given up everything for her, she might be living on the street right now, I don't know.  There are times that I don't understand it.  But then I remember that not much has changed since I was a child.  There was always that part of her that put herself before everything else.  Self preservation I guess, I'm not sure.  When I became a mother I feared that in myself, and I hope for myself and my kids I'm not like that, but I suspect I am or I'd leave my room if not for me for them.  I really don't know.  It's been an experience I'm not likely to forget even with my lack of oxygen.  That's on my list of things I'll go ahead and mention.  My mom is not like the worst person ever or anything, just was raised by people that put more importance on her illnesses than needed to be put there.  I think her mom may have had Munchhausen by proxy to be perfectly honest and I'm really not joking about that.  She has respiratory issues growing up and that's led into a life that makes her believe (and I do mean truly believe) that there is no one possibly dealing with more illness than her.  She truly does not believe I am ill and thinks most of my things are made up so I can get good drugs.  Last time I checked, they didn't put pacemakers in healthy people and didn't hand out oxygen tanks for you to get high on.  Honestly, the morphine is another story entirely and I do enjoy that buzz, but I like the pain relief WAY more than the high and resulting nausea.   So yeah.  I think I've written enough to make anyone's eyeballs pop out in shock but I'm going to blast one last thing for everyone to know because frankly, I'm just plain tired of hiding it from people anymore.  I mentioned a tax refund.  How does someone that doesn't work get one of those?  Well, I do have a "job" I just have hid it from most people because it's far from mainstream and my health is such I can't (and don't) always feel like doing it.  I'm an adult entertainer.  Think stripper on a webcam plus "extras".  If you don't know what I mean by extras you've not been on the internet long LOL.  This is I think the main reason that I post so many boob pictures on facebook and twitter.  Half the world has seem me naked, I don't give a shit if they see my tits too.  So, when I can find the time, energy, privacy, and above all, desire to look my best, that's how I make money.  It's not much, because I can't bring myself to do it very often...not because I'm ashamed of it, but because it takes a certain amount of energy to perform like that.  It is indeed performing.  I'd rather it was mainstream modeling or acting like I did when I was young, but I take what I can get.  On that shocking note, I'm going to leave you to ponder.

Until next time...
J