Monday, April 14, 2014

Just another day in paradise...

As always in the world there is good news and bad news.  The good news first, I'm just that kind of gal.  Memphis is in underpants.  Like, he pees on the potty almost every damn time.  He hasn't had a number two yet that was totally successful but he sure has tried like hell!  I'm really proud of him.

We tried a three day potty training program and it didn't work worth a shit for us, it took more like the 5 day plan but then he finally got it.  All it took was for him to get some big boy underwear and he got the idea just that easy.  Was really pretty cool!  He even stays dry at night and during naps although I'm keeping him in pullups or cloth trainers and a plastic pant just in case.

Now on to the other stuff.  I am still feeling pretty shitty.  Mentally, I just can't get a grip on what's going on in my life.  My "housemates" are worse to live with than anyone else I've ever lived with and I've lived with some real peachy people in my day.  I don't even feel like it's a family here.  I don't feel like anyone wants me around unless they need me to fill out a form for them or fix something for them or do something for them or or or...

I feel unwelcome.  I feel shitty.  I feel like no one even wants to talk to me unless it's to complain about someone else.  I don't know what to do.  So for the most part, I sit in my bedroom and I don't leave it and I cry and I cry and I cry.  My "family" doesn't seem to care at all.  They don't seem to want to help me, they don't want to make things any better for anyone, let alone me.

I started writing this blog and then put it down for a while.  While it was closed there was a blow up with my "family" yet again.  This is not a happy family.  I asked for some peace and quiet to meditate, to try to calm my soul and my nerves and it evolved into a screaming match that ended with my daughter no longer being my friend on facebook and threatening me with calling every authority available to try to convince them I am an unfit mother.  That is my biggest fear.  It goes beyond the normal every mother has this fear.  I have had children's services called on me many times.  A couple of them by my own mother.  Once was just days after having a miscarriage.  Boy is that fun to have a social worker screaming at you that you will lose your remaining children as "God saw fit not to give you another baby".  Yes, that's really what the woman told me.  While I had the blood of a miscarriage running down my leg because she wouldn't allow me to go to the restroom.

These things traumatize me.  Everything does I guess.  I'm broken, I'm wounded.  I have social anxiety and I'm afraid of people.  I just want people to like me, that is all I want in the world and I feel like a total failure because NO ONE DOES.  I'm sitting here writing this with tears streaming down my face and I don't feel like there is anyone on the whole planet that understands.  Or that even wants to. My name is trouble, and no one wants to deal with me I guess.  Yes, this is the blog of a troubled woman.  This is the blog of someone mentally flawed.  Physically disabled.  Perhaps even an admitted bitch.  I have a lot of things going through my head all at once all the time and I don't know how to deal with anything.  I guess I'm kind of rambling on now, so I'm going to leave you for today in the hopes that I can get my shit together and be "normal" soon.  Maybe I'll feel better.  Maybe I won't.

Until next time...

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Smells Like Teen Spirit...

WHAT?!?  I know, that sounds so gross right?  Yeah, well, it is.  There are a few things along the way that i hadn't told the world about.  Mainly, because I was embarrassed by them.  And partly, because I already blast so much weird shit all over the internet that sometimes I think people probably think I make half of if up or exaggerate it anyway so if I add to it, people will think I've got an even more broad imagination. (How's THAT for a run on sentence?)  Ok, so...there is even more to my weirdness that most of you don't know.  A few of you real lifers know, but well, you know all this shit's for real anyway too, so you know I'm not JUST crazy.  Even though I'm that too.

About a year ago my next door neighbor called the health department on us.  The complaint was that the pool was green and that there was an overwhelming amount of dog shit.  So an inspector came for a surprise visit.  The pool was green.  They gave us one week to correct it and moved to the dog shit issue.  Now, keep in mind I have six dogs.  Yep, that's right. Six.  A really lot of dogs that shit all over that back yard.  BUT, that is one thing that is actually kept up with.  Because with that many dogs, if it wasn't we'd live in a pile of dog shit.  So they ask how many dogs, Ronnie tells them, and the inspector says unfounded claim.  But the pool lingers over our heads like a dark cloud for the next year and is STILL a thorn in my side, but we'll come back to that.  So that is complaint number one (or shall we say, inspection number one).   

It wasn't of course the last of things.  It never is right?  But it was the last of that particular inpector.  Officer Sprague comes next.  Now see, he has issues many citations over the years over one thing or another.  Just this past year alone we've wracked up a whopping 7 $500 tickets for an unregistered nonworking vehicle in the driveway.  Odd thing about this is, we have two of them but only one gets the ticket.  So there that is, the one that leaked all its fluids on the driveway has gotten a fuckton of tickets too.  And the sideyard.  And some bare grass.  And we have the garbage cans visible fro the street.

So one day the doorbell rings and it is Officer Sprague to inspect a complaint.  Evidently, we're hoarders, like worthy of the TLC cable show variety. And, well, I'm just not.



These are pictures of my house, not even that clean, and my neighbors, plural, reported us as being hoarders. WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE DO THIS? For one, a woman that has lived next to my grandma for 35 years,  how nice huh? The others? Her friends.  Thing is, my grandma WAS a hoarder, but we cleaned it all out when we moved in here. We had to!  So yeah, that happened to, unpleasantly.  He came and took pictures of literally every inch of my home.  He also said the claim was unfounded, but he had to take the pictures to prove it in the file. How embarrassong for me.

Now as for the title.  My kids stink. In more ways than one. Including the child I'm married to.  I mean, they stunk before, but this is if you happen to read this you too big ones, clean up your act and SHOWER MORE.

Until next time...