The myth of the perfect baby

Well folks, I turned forty.  I was terribly unhappy for most of my birthday for mostly selfish reasons.  I never claimed to not know that I'm a selfish person, or to be some martyr that wants everyone else to just be happy for my birthday.  It was a pretty shitty day all around.  My family didn't forget me Sixteen Candles style again this year, and they have indeed done that to me.  For my 37th in fact.  What they did do was spent the day systematically making me feel like total shit in every facet of my being.  Not a damn thing I did or said was quite right and made someone mad.  I didn't get to go out to dinner like I had been promised for months before, I didn't get even one gift from anyone, anywhere with the exception of a spur of the moment drawing my daughter did because she felt bad for me.  I didn't even get to pick what we ate for dinner.  I know what you're probably thinking here.  Suck it the fuck up, you're a grown ass ...

Well, I'm old.  I'm going to be forty in about a month, and that's been weighing heavy on my mind lately, but even more, my oldest child had a birthday the other day.  The other day, my daughter turned twenty.  I never in the WORLD would've thought I'd be old enough to have a twenty year old daughter.  I never thought I'd make it to forty.  I never thought... It's been a rough little patch here, but when isn't it, right?  There's almost never a dull moment in my world, but the last few weeks has been even stranger than most.  And for the last several days I've been battling a headache.  The kind that makes me keep the lights dimmed and my head still and a bowl near by in case I can't get to the bathroom on time.  I'm really lucky that my screen can dim way down or I wouldn't be able to write here.  Just one of the many maladies that I suffer from that sometimes I get told I'm making up. Yep, it's one of THOSE blogs aga...

Ok, I lied, the posts are going to come every Sunday.  I really did mean to do it yesterday, but Maxwell had his little birthday party yesterday and I just plain don't feel well.  You can read my middle of the night post  for an explanation on that! So here goes, my week in pictures :) Memphis accidentally bit me so I had a bleeding cut on my nipple. I absolutely HATE to pump, but if was kind of forced into it, because it just hurt too damn much to have him nurse from that side for the first day or two. He decided that he needed to pump himself as well, so not only did I catch a little video of it that I might upload to YouTube, I got a few pics too! This is my oldest son Morgen, we were having our morning coffee, and he's texting his fiancé Angie.  Incidentally, Morgen means morning in German and that's how he got his name. He was going to be Camilla, but he had a penis and I needed a boy name in a hurry and since he was born in the morning, wel...

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.  ...