One fun thing I've noticed about getting older, and hopefully wiser, is the ability to hone in on all the weirdness about myself. And then promptly blame my parents.
Everyone is weird. Admit it. It's when you catch yourself doing something, or observe something about yourself that's strange, you realize you're nuts.
Maybe it's just me.
Here's one: I pick at my kids...and my husband. Not nitpick, actually pick at them. My blue eyed, blond-when-he-hasn't-shaved-his-noodle-husband has been known to forget the sunscreen and get a sunburn. It's game on when he gets peel-y. Yeah, it's gross. I don't accost strangers on the street when they have hangey skin, so I'm not over the edge. I'm also not the only one in my family who does this (STACEY) so I know I'm not alone in my yuckiness.
Let's see, what other goofy shit about that I'll admit to? Hmmm....
I make Em or Bobby cut the tops of Popsicles in another room. Hearing scissors against ice makes me shiver. It's like nails on a chalkboard. I can barely type this. AUGHHH...
I listen to soft rock when I type my blogs. It gets my "mediocre writer" juices flowing.
I run down the basement steps. I'm pretty sure that's what's going to end me.
I cannot think of another way to word "that's what's going to end me" even though it sounds terrible, because my son is beating me with a Woody doll and Woody's horse.
I think "non-traditional" guys are hot. Like Kevin Spacey. Woot.
Meatloaf's right you know. Two out of three ain't bad.
The more I write tonight, the more I realize I sound like a lunatic.
Anyone else yell at the computer when they read about someone being stupid?
Sometimes I catch myself standing staring off into space when the kids are taking a nap. Then I feel like some kind of MomDroid that was powered down until I'm needed again.
I get irrationally angry when someone calls me to complain...doesn't matter what it's about.
I can't wait until I'm older so I can grab my knees and mutter about "feeling like rain's coming."
I suffer from Catholic Guilt.
Maybe that's what's wrong with me?
I should write a book called "How to Lose Friends and Alienate Readers"
For Ellie
One of my favorite moments in motherhood is when the beauty of your children strike you. Today I was watching my baby play, and for a moment I lost my breath.
I just sat frozen, drinking her in. The curve of her cheek, the shape of her eyes. Her tiny hand clutching a toy, fingers unblemished by time. Tiny toes, polished orange. Feet, turned in just a little, identical to her Daddy's.
I stare at her feet, remember how they would push on my tummy, the way she would roll slowly around inside me. Quiet and careful, the opposite of her brother, wild from the time he was conceived but no less beautiful.
It's incredible, how much I love my daughter. How close we are, her and I. Tonight we sit on the armchair with the footrest up, her between my legs. She lays back and sucks her thumb while I play with her hair. Just lost in each other for awhile. My fingers move through her curls, rub the silkiness between my fingers. She back and meets me eyes, and I am rewarded with a soft smile. A giggle, as she climbs up me and wraps her tiny arms around my neck. It's her cue it's time to play, and I oblige.
What a precious gift God has laid in my hands, has entrusted me with. She has been the catalyst to my rediscovering what *true* faith is all about. I have never prayed as long, or as hard, as I have prayed for this child. When I have doubted or feared the worst, every time I was proven wrong. Faith...
She was our happy accident, she was our celebration during mourning. Just when my heart thought it couldn't hold more joy, she came along. And everyday, it fills more.
She turns to me now for comfort, yet she has no idea I do the same. Her love comforts me. Her love, along with her siblings, frees me from myself. I hope someday she understands how everyday, she saves me.
I'm a Weed
I have a weed problem. I can't keep up with them. They are running rampant through my flower beds. Every day there are more. Each time I pull them, they seem to come back bigger, and stronger. Aggravating, they are.
I'm not welcome in the carefully tended beds.
Sure, I pop in now and again. Try to fit in with the Iris's and the Black Eyed Susan's, but inevitably, I get yanked.
Sometimes I get tired of being pulled away, out of the pretty flower beds. They have it easy.
But...
I don't belong there.
I can't be me, in all my weed-e-ness, around those bitches.
Flowers, though...they are kind of weak. They need someone to take care of them.
Weeds, on the other hand, they are hard to tame. No matter how many times they are told they are not welcome, they just keep coming back. Bigger.
Stronger.
They grow like a son-of-a-bitch.
They have the will to grow, to flourish, no matter what stands in their way.
The Anatomy of a Romance Novel.
1. Inexperienced yet willful virgin with wild, untamable hair meets older rugged and life weary man.
2. Sparks fly.
3. They kiss.
4. He pulls away, runs hand through his hair, sighs, and says they shouldn't do this.
5. They avoid each other for 12 pages.
6. She does something "fiery" and he "crushes her to him" and kisses her again.
7. They "almost" have sex.
8. He once again says they can't do "this."
9. 30 pages of dumb story with bad guy/evil ex-girlfriend/some stupid misunderstanding.
10. They actually have sex. She, of course, has 27 mind blowing orgasms. Because all virgins do. And its not in a bed. It's in a barn, or on the ground.
11. 30 more pages of dumb story with bad guy/evil ex-girlfriend/some stupid misunderstanding.
12. They end up together.
13. Epilogue with her pregnant, of course.
The end.
Anyone else notice this?
Did I forget something?
2. Sparks fly.
3. They kiss.
4. He pulls away, runs hand through his hair, sighs, and says they shouldn't do this.
5. They avoid each other for 12 pages.
6. She does something "fiery" and he "crushes her to him" and kisses her again.
7. They "almost" have sex.
8. He once again says they can't do "this."
9. 30 pages of dumb story with bad guy/evil ex-girlfriend/some stupid misunderstanding.
10. They actually have sex. She, of course, has 27 mind blowing orgasms. Because all virgins do. And its not in a bed. It's in a barn, or on the ground.
11. 30 more pages of dumb story with bad guy/evil ex-girlfriend/some stupid misunderstanding.
12. They end up together.
13. Epilogue with her pregnant, of course.
The end.
Anyone else notice this?
Did I forget something?
We've Got the Funk
One of the worst things for me as a mother, and a person with anxiety problems, is when my children are sick.
It is hard for me not to become *too* focused on their illness.
So, it's been a long weekend.
Noah's jammed into my side right now, poor little guy.
I had to take a few Benedryl because I was getting covered in hives. Stress is not my friend, but sleep will be tonight, because Benedryl knocks me the hell out.
Here's a few "highlights" from this weekend:
So, off to la la land I go. Hopefully tomorrow everyone wakes up bright eyed and bushy tailed.
I hope everyone had a better weekend than I! Anyone know if they make a "sick away" bomb for the house? Y'know? Set it off in the living room, leave for a few hours, and when we come home everything is clean, and fresh as a daisy, and all the funk that has spread through my house is gone? Anyone know where I can buy that?
Dammit.....
It is hard for me not to become *too* focused on their illness.
So, it's been a long weekend.
Noah's jammed into my side right now, poor little guy.
I had to take a few Benedryl because I was getting covered in hives. Stress is not my friend, but sleep will be tonight, because Benedryl knocks me the hell out.
Here's a few "highlights" from this weekend:
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| Ellie fell asleep bent over the sofa Saturday night. |
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| Only mommy will do sometimes. Bob took this because Ellie was trying to slowly climb on top of Noah. She was making us laugh (pardon the mismatched pillowcases, the awesome print one is Tinkerbell. Guess who stripped her bed, then didn't get the laundry done?) |
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| Noah a little bit ago. We were watching Scooby-Doo and he just looked so miserable I, of course, took a picture. |
So, off to la la land I go. Hopefully tomorrow everyone wakes up bright eyed and bushy tailed.
I hope everyone had a better weekend than I! Anyone know if they make a "sick away" bomb for the house? Y'know? Set it off in the living room, leave for a few hours, and when we come home everything is clean, and fresh as a daisy, and all the funk that has spread through my house is gone? Anyone know where I can buy that?
Dammit.....
Sha-poopy!
Like "dammit!"
"What the hell?"
and "Oh for shits sake!"
For the sake of shit go I.
Noah punched me today. We were laying in my bed this morning watching cartoons. He gets close to my face, smiles, and just pops me right in the kisser. After I quelled the instinct to give him a right hook in response, I grabbed my mouth and yelled "what the shit?!" He thought that was hilarious...
Ellie bitch slapped me today. Snuggled into the chair, my girl and I. She, sucking her thumb, I browsing through the psychotic posts on Babycenter. All of a sudden, she rears back and smacks me, right across the face. I, of course, look at her and say, "what the hell was that for?"
She says nothing. Just eyeballs me for a moment, and goes back to her thumb.
My children are all fake tattooed up. I have a mini motorcycle gang roaming the house.
My 19 month old daughter bent over yesterday in the driveway, grabbed her tiny ass, and said "da butt."
I, on top of my lengthy vocabulary of bad words, also have a cache of almost bad words.
"Sha-poopy"
"balls"
"friggity frig"
"pa-dooker"
I, apparently say "sha-poopy" a lot. My daughter, niece, and the girls I watch sing it, "Sha-poopy SHA-pooopy poopy poopy poopyyyyyy"
Now Lindsay, you say, that is no way to raise your children. One must watch their language, and model perfection in all things, at all times. Children learn from us.
Yeah, no shit!
Sha-poopy!
Flightless Goose
*July 6th*
Eric D. Goodman will be here for an interview and a chat in the comment section of my blog. How cool is that?? So stop on over that day to ask the author some questions!
This is a great book. My kids love it, I have read it a lot to the little ones since I've received Flightless Goose.
Meet Gilbert, a goose who loves to play with his friends. One day, Gilbert loses the ability to fly. At first his friends treat him nicely, but then the other geese start to bully him...until they need his help and he ends up saving the day!
This is a great story to share with your children, and it helps teach them tolerance and what true friendship is all about.
My oldest is reading it to Noah and Ellie again as I type this. I'm not complaining, though. Read, on Em!
The days of our lies...
Are you an Internet liar?
Everyone has that FB friend that *every day* writes crap like:
Today rocks!
Whooooo I LOVE LIFE!
Can't get any better than this!
Kicking up my heels!
Cherish every moment, because every moment is AWESOME!
I wonder if they *cherish the moment* when they have explosive diarrhea?
Maybe they shit rainbows...
No one is AWESOMELY HAPPY WHOOOOO!!!!!!!!! all the time. Some days you're just *eh*
Why lie about it?
It's like those 50 year creepy fat guys sitting at the computer in their dirty underwear pretending to be 18 year old girls.
It's a digital age, and with it comes digital lies.
I have been beyond honest on my blog about my anxiety/depression struggles, but I am having trouble finding other "mom" blogs that discuss it...maybe I have a unique kind of crazy...
Usually (and I'm NOT talking about the blogs I follow, FYI) it's shit like:
"Today I threshed my own grain to make this bread..."
"I have a FABULOUS giveaway...it's an ONLINE scrapbook page...because EVERYONE needs one of those!"
"If you eat this it will kill you...I read it somewhere and IT'S TRUE"
"If you raise your children this way it will kill them...I READ IT SOMEWHERE AND IT'S TRUE"
"Check out this recipe I just dreamed up that I copy and pasted from Allrecipes.com"
"I am writing a paid post about something I could care less about...oh look 5 bucks!"
It's hard to wade through the fluff to find something with some truth to it. I want some MEAT on my blog bones. I read one just a little bit ago on Surviving Motherhood. No bullshit, just a blog about her crazy day. Loved it, because I could relate. I cannot relate to most of these mom bloggers, mainly because a lot of them are *full of shit* when they post.
What did you start blogging for? To get out what you want/need/wish you could say, or to create a fantasy world for yourself?
Whew, glad I got that out. I'm going to go make shit up for my FB now.
Everyone has that FB friend that *every day* writes crap like:
Today rocks!
Whooooo I LOVE LIFE!
Can't get any better than this!
Kicking up my heels!
Cherish every moment, because every moment is AWESOME!
I wonder if they *cherish the moment* when they have explosive diarrhea?
Maybe they shit rainbows...
No one is AWESOMELY HAPPY WHOOOOO!!!!!!!!! all the time. Some days you're just *eh*
Why lie about it?
It's like those 50 year creepy fat guys sitting at the computer in their dirty underwear pretending to be 18 year old girls.
It's a digital age, and with it comes digital lies.
I have been beyond honest on my blog about my anxiety/depression struggles, but I am having trouble finding other "mom" blogs that discuss it...maybe I have a unique kind of crazy...
Usually (and I'm NOT talking about the blogs I follow, FYI) it's shit like:
"Today I threshed my own grain to make this bread..."
"I have a FABULOUS giveaway...it's an ONLINE scrapbook page...because EVERYONE needs one of those!"
"If you eat this it will kill you...I read it somewhere and IT'S TRUE"
"If you raise your children this way it will kill them...I READ IT SOMEWHERE AND IT'S TRUE"
"Check out this recipe I just dreamed up that I copy and pasted from Allrecipes.com"
"I am writing a paid post about something I could care less about...oh look 5 bucks!"
It's hard to wade through the fluff to find something with some truth to it. I want some MEAT on my blog bones. I read one just a little bit ago on Surviving Motherhood. No bullshit, just a blog about her crazy day. Loved it, because I could relate. I cannot relate to most of these mom bloggers, mainly because a lot of them are *full of shit* when they post.
What did you start blogging for? To get out what you want/need/wish you could say, or to create a fantasy world for yourself?
Whew, glad I got that out. I'm going to go make shit up for my FB now.
Frozen in Time.
A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.
-Edward de Bono
Throughout our lives, so many moments pass by in a blur. Then there are the moments that seem frozen in time. No matter how old we get, no matter how many years pass those memories are clear and true.
Have you ever remembered something, remembered it so vividly you get that rush, that pang you felt way back when?
Everybody remembers their first real kiss, the butterflies when you realized what was about to happen.
I remember sitting with my best friend in her car, waiting for the guys to go on break so we could flirt with them, laughing. Always laughing.
I remember the very first time I laid eyes on my husband, I felt this weird zing, and got a little lightheaded. I think I was being shot by cupid.
I remember the first time I saw Emily, this tiny girl in a stroller. She had a scowl and a head full of curly hair.
Sitting on Bobby's bed when my Mom called to tell me my Grandpa Dilas died.
When I held my niece for the very first time, and saw my brother's eyes blinking back at me.
Standing with my dad, right before I walked down the aisle to my husband, shaking with nerves, and him patting my hand and telling me it was OK.
Walking into my Grandpa Mario's hospital room, knowing I was never going to see him again.
When I held Noah for the first time, and all my dreams came true.
Looking out the waiting room window at the hospital, belly heavy with Ellie, knowing my grandma was down the hall dying, just weeks before I was due, and I couldn't handle saying goodbye.
Watching my sisters husband's face when he saw her walking down the aisle.
The first time Noah told me he loved me.
The first time Ellie told me she loved me.
There are so many more....
I am blessed with an abundance of prolific memories, all momentous in their own way. I'll never forget how I felt during these moments in time.
What moments are frozen in time for you?
Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.
-The Wonder Years
-Edward de Bono
Throughout our lives, so many moments pass by in a blur. Then there are the moments that seem frozen in time. No matter how old we get, no matter how many years pass those memories are clear and true.
Have you ever remembered something, remembered it so vividly you get that rush, that pang you felt way back when?
Everybody remembers their first real kiss, the butterflies when you realized what was about to happen.
I remember sitting with my best friend in her car, waiting for the guys to go on break so we could flirt with them, laughing. Always laughing.
I remember the very first time I laid eyes on my husband, I felt this weird zing, and got a little lightheaded. I think I was being shot by cupid.
I remember the first time I saw Emily, this tiny girl in a stroller. She had a scowl and a head full of curly hair.
Sitting on Bobby's bed when my Mom called to tell me my Grandpa Dilas died.
When I held my niece for the very first time, and saw my brother's eyes blinking back at me.
Standing with my dad, right before I walked down the aisle to my husband, shaking with nerves, and him patting my hand and telling me it was OK.
Walking into my Grandpa Mario's hospital room, knowing I was never going to see him again.
When I held Noah for the first time, and all my dreams came true.
Looking out the waiting room window at the hospital, belly heavy with Ellie, knowing my grandma was down the hall dying, just weeks before I was due, and I couldn't handle saying goodbye.
Watching my sisters husband's face when he saw her walking down the aisle.
The first time Noah told me he loved me.
The first time Ellie told me she loved me.
There are so many more....
I am blessed with an abundance of prolific memories, all momentous in their own way. I'll never forget how I felt during these moments in time.
What moments are frozen in time for you?
Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.
-The Wonder Years
And the tables turn: interviewed by my daughter.
What's free time? I like to read, take a nap.
If you had any car in the world, what would it be?
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I don't know what kind,
but it would be
black with pink polka dots!
black with pink polka dots!
Who is your favorite band?
Fleetwood Mac.
What is your favorite TV show?
Bones, and The Mentalist.
When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A teacher, and then an artist.
What's your favorite movie?
Stardust.
What do you like to do with your family?
Cuddle up on movie night, go to the park, and to the zoo.
What is your favorite pet besides a cat?
Bigfoot...no just kidding. A dog.
If you were famous, what would your stage name be?
Uhhh...Lindsay Roth? (that got me an eye roll and a MooooOOOmmmmm)
What are you looking forward to this summer?
Our trip to the zoo and COSI, spending time at the park, the warm weather.
What makes you happy?
My family makes me happy. A good book makes me happy.
What makes you mad?
Almost eleven year olds that don't listen.
Anything else that doesn't involve me?
Rude people. Rude people make me mad, too.
An interview with my daughter
-Hmmm...I don't know...exciting? I don't know...
What would you like for your birthday?
-Ummm...a hamster. Ummm...I know you would say no to it but...a laptop and a phone. A dog, or a kitten. Did I already say hamster? An iPad...umm...I don't know I think that's it.
What are you looking forward to the most this summer?
-Our big vacation to Columbus. Having Katie and Natalie over.
What's your favorite song?
-My favorite song...You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift
What do you think about starting middle school this year?
-Kind of nervous. I'm excited and nervous...and I look forward to seeing all my friends again, and new friends.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
-A professional soccer player or a clothes designer.
If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
-Mmm...I would go to...hmmm...I would go to Italy. I take that back. Hawaii.
What's your favorite thing to do with our family?
-Go out to places. Watch movies on movie night.
What should we name our dog when we get one?
-Umm..well if its a boy and it's a wiener dog we should call it Oscar Meyer Wiener and if it's a girl and it's a wiener dog, we should name it Weinette.
What if it's not a wiener dog?
-Umm we should call it Snickerdoodle.
What do you think Mommy does that is funny?
- I don't know. Let's see. I don't know, it's not on top of my head. What you said on the last day of school, when I came home, and you said, "now I don't have to go to the bathroom in a hurry, before the kids kill each other."
What should we get your dad for Father's Day?
-Is that a question? I don't know. I don't know what he likes, well maybe a new Wii game. Perfume. I mean cologne. I think that's it.
What's your favorite outfit to wear?
-A tank top, shorts, and flip flops.
Where's your favorite place to eat?
-Golden Corral...and Hog Heaven.
What's your favorite food Mommy makes?
-Hmm...meatloaf...tator tot casserole, mac and cheese.
What's makes you mad?
-When my siblings are being bad.
What makes you happy?
-When I'm with my family. Going places with my friends.
She makes me laugh. She giggled the entire time. Love her!
Tales from the playground...
Hey there, lady in the tiny tennis outfit at the playground. Aren't you too cute with your tiny booty hanging out. Oh, who's that you are walking up to? Is that your grandpa...oops that's your husband! Oh my, I apologize, I seem to have gotten the giggles.
No, you just sit way the hell over there and rub some more money out of yourgrandpa sugardaddy husband.
Dumb Bitch.
Nice of you to plop your children in the sandbox and then wander off. Hey, no problem if your little one takes the dump truck from my son. Everyone gets a turn. Oh look, my little guy is trying to dump sand into the truck and play with your son. Who's now screeching, "my truck, my truck!"
You know what's neat about the eardrum piercing screams emanating from your demon spawn? You ignore it. Because you are a classy lady. I can tell that by your playground attire. All the cool moms with geriatric husbands wear tennis dresses with pink undies to the park.
Yeah, good idea to let your older son take care of it, who tells my son he can't pour sand into the dump truck. After, of course, I made my son let your little shit have the truck in the first place. Never mind the fact that my guy was saying to your brat, "let's share, OK? Can we share, please?"
No, you just sit way the hell over there and rub some more money out of your
Dumb Bitch.
The Sweetest Thing
The Sweetest Thing by Elizabeth Musser is a sweet, endearing novel. Set in the Depression era, with two likeable main characters, Perri and Dobbs, the story combines poverty, friendship, family secrets, and faith. Perri, a well off girl in Atlanta, suffers a family tragedy. Dobbs, a preacher's daughter from Chicago, comes to live with her Aunt. At first, Perri isn't interested in a friendship with the independent, and passionate Dobbs. Not long into the novel, the girls begin to lean on one another for support. Both girls have a lot on their shoulders, and with the power of friendship and faith in God, they learn how to live their lives with grace and love.
The Sweetest Thing is full of interesting characters, and an attention grabbing storyline. Elizabeth Musser depicts life in the 1930's quite vividly, and makes you root for a happy ending for both Perri and Dobbs.
*I recieved this book from Bethany House Publishers for review. All opinions are my own.
*I recieved this book from Bethany House Publishers for review. All opinions are my own.
When you can't stop being afraid...
Not long after Bob and I got married, we moved into our first apartment. It was such a little shithole, but I loved it. It was on the bottom right of a little apartment building, and it was all one floor. The building was really old, I think it was a bar a long, long time ago.
I happily put away all our booty from the wedding, and our garage sale finds. I relished playing wife, kept house, and worked full time cutting hair. We had cool next door neighbors, two older guys in a band, whom we shared the front door foyer with. We had Em most of the time, but she still spent a few days a week with her mom. I was happy.
I happily put away all our booty from the wedding, and our garage sale finds. I relished playing wife, kept house, and worked full time cutting hair. We had cool next door neighbors, two older guys in a band, whom we shared the front door foyer with. We had Em most of the time, but she still spent a few days a week with her mom. I was happy.
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| Crude layout of our place. |
We were only there a few months when Emily's mom went to jail. Yep, jail. That's when my apartment I loved turned into a prison.
When Emily's mom went to jail, she was living with one of her boyfriends. A boyfriend, we later found out, who liked smacking women around. And robbing places. And spending time in jail. And smacking more women around. And robbing places with guns.
He was classy.
After Em's mom went to the clinker we, naturally, had to deal with the fallout. Which was Emily, full of questions and tears. And me, losing my mind.
Not long after the bitch got put away for a few months, we learned the truth about her boyfriend. If you have followed my blog at all, you have read about my anxiety problem. Guess what happens to an untreated anxiety disorder when you find out this man is out there, and we have no idea Emily's mothers intentions during her stay in jail? I wigged out.
But Lindsay, you say, your big strapping husband was there to protect you! No, sadly, he got up at two in the morning to go to work. I was there almost all night on my own. I never slept. I had weapons hidden around the house.
Her mom got out of jail. By then, we had full custody of Em, and the only way she was allowed to see her was through the courts with a mediator. We had no idea where her mom was once she got out of jail. None.
I hid more weapons. I would pace the house at night, once Bob went to work. You couldn't hear anything if you were in the living room, coming from the kitchen. That's where our door was. Add train tracks a few blocks away, and an old groaning apartment. There was no hope for me.
Our neighbors were aware of our situation, and told us they would keep an eye out for anyone window peeking. I picked Emily up everyday at the door to her school, then once she moved schools, at the office. She would ask why she had to wait at the office for me everyday, I just told her she was extra special and she got a special seat to wait for me. We were afraid she would run right to her mom if she saw her in the parking lot at the school. I am still afraid, to this day, she would run right to her if she saw her.
Her mom never came sniffing around. She still hasn't, and it will be 6 years this summer. I never knew, that first year or so of her being gone, if or when. It was torture. Everywhere we went, we were scoping the place out. At Walmart once, we accidentally ran into someone her mom had lived with for awhile, and the woman started berating us about cutting Emily's hair (umm, ok?) Loudly. In front of Emily. She was very confused.
I guess what I'm trying to very badly explain was the fear I had, all the time. It roiled under my skin, it curled in my belly. I became afraid of the dark. I would cry every night when Bob left for work. I was so afraid of being alone in the house. I had Emily sleep with me a lot, so I could "protect" her. I felt beyond out of control.
The anxiety spiraled into depression. Here I was, a newlywed, dealing with a heartbroken little girl. Scrubbing vomit out of the carpet all the time after Em threw up because she didn't know how to express herself. Apologizing to the neighbors for her hours of screaming. I had no idea how to get a handle on our life. I was depressed for her, I was depressed for me. I was guilty because of what her mom did. I was angry. I was, I admit, pretty damn resentful of the lot I was handed. Not Emily, God, never her, but her stupid mom. I am still resentful of her, that she left me to clean up her mess. (And now I see her Myspace and Facebook pages, making stupid pouty butthole kissy faces at the camera instead of raising her daughter. She doesn't deserve her anyway!)
We moved out of our beloved little apartment, to a slightly bigger place. A new start. The very first night we were there, I was sitting on the couch watching TV. Someone tried to come into the house via the sliding glass doors. Accident? I'm sure. It was a row of townhouses, they all look the same. Did it ruin the place for me? Hell yeah. So did the lady who tried to come in one night through the front door, and the kids who thought it would be funny to bang on the door over and over one night, a few minutes after my husband left to run an errand.
I had no idea how to deal with my terror of being alone at night. There is no way to describe the awful things that would play out in my mind through the night. I would just cry, and sit up in bed, and pace. It was not a fun way to live. It was no way to live. I was literally driving myself crazy. After I got pregnant with Noah, and all the pregnancy issues started, it got worse. It was a relief when we had to move back in with my parents. It's what saved me, I believe.
I, as you know, got help to deal with my anxiety and depression. I am on medicine. I am still a terrible sleeper, but I don't have knives hidden. I don't cry when Bob leaves (except after he's been on vacation for a week, but it's because I'll miss him and all that sappy stuff.) I don't pace the house at night. I don't run horrible scenarios in my head. I am hyper-aware of noises, though. And I am extremely observant of my surroundings. I still look for her mom when we go certain places, it's ingrained in me.
I, Lindsay Roth, have a mental health disorder. It's a part of who I am. There are some people who don't believe in taking medication for anxiety or depression. I don't think I'd be writing this blog without it. I don't think my parents could have let us buy this house from them without it. I couldn't raise my children without it. I am learning how to live again, i'm getting there, and I'm happy.
Why I Loved This Weekend # 4
I loved this weekend because my strep throat is going away! We didn't do much, got some cleaning and organizing done.
What we did do, though, is make memories with the babies, and my family.
We met the family at the park this morning. We had a great time with the kids!
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| Em on the zipline |
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| Rylee's turn! |
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| Rylee and Ellie |
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| It's all fun and games until dad breaks a hip |
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| That boy knows how to pose! My nephew is too cute! |
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| She's part monkey |
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| Rocking with Daddy on the tire swing. |
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| The whole crew! |
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| Rylee giving Ellie-bean a ride |
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| Racing! |
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| Someones not happy |
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| Playing ball with Daddy. |
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| He enjoys swinging a bat. |
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| He just had a big hit! |
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| Beautiful girls! |
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| Spending some time with Daddy. |
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| Daddy's make the best seats. |
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| Eight years ago my family were given these flowers when my Grandpa Dilas passed away. They are thriving and gorgeous! They get bigger and more beautiful every year. |
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| Ending the night with strawberry pie is such a hardship.... |
Hope you had a wonderful weekend, I know I did!
Flightless Goose
Why am I so excited? Because on July 6th Mr. Goodman will be stopping by my blog for an interview! He will also be here to answer questions from you, my dear readers!
I cannot wait to read this book with my little ones!
Check back soon, for my review of Flightless Goose.
Songs for my kids
Have you ever heard a song, and instantly you think of your child? I have a song for each of my kids, and I though I'd share them with you.
Noah's is I Just Call You Mine by Martina McBride.
Cause everyone that sees you, always wants to know you, and everyone that knows you, always has a smile...
For Ellie it's Belongs to You by Emerson Drive.
Every smile that lights my face, every teardrop, every trace, every secret hidden place, belongs to you...
Do you have any special songs that make you think of your children? Do share!
For Emily it's Heaven by Live. It came out in 2003, when Emily was 3 and it has stuck with me all these years.
I don't need no one, to tell me about heaven, I look at my daughter and I believe...
My favorite line in the song:
I'll be right by your side
come hell or water high
down any road you choose to roam
Cause everyone that sees you, always wants to know you, and everyone that knows you, always has a smile...
My favorite line in the song:
You're a standing ovation
after years of waiting
For a chance to finally shine
For Ellie it's Belongs to You by Emerson Drive.
Every smile that lights my face, every teardrop, every trace, every secret hidden place, belongs to you...
My favorite line from the song:
Anything that's good in me
all I ever hope to be
every drop of every dream
belongs to you
Do you have any special songs that make you think of your children? Do share!
Observations in a Grocery Store
I'm in the mood for another list. Do try to contain your excitement, you're embarrassing yourself.
1. Hey there, every cashier I encounter at various grocery stores, what you do all day isn't even close to topping the list of shittiest jobs to have. Why are you all so angry? Your angers frightens me. Let's hug it out.
2. You know what's super fun to watch? Someone who's never used the self checkout before. I can just imagine the inner monologue...
Today's the day. You are an intelligent, confident woman. You can ring out your own groceries. How hard could it be to pay for a bottle of wine, three Lean Cuisines and forty-seven cans of cat food?
Ok, here we go.
*boop* Place item in bag. Place item in bag. Place item in bag.
I am placing the item in the bag! I am placing the...ohhh. Oops.
*boop* Place item in bag. Place item in bag.
I AM PLACING THE ITEM IN THE BAG.
Please wait for assistance.
I'm a failure
3. I understand, surly bakery lady, that your time is precious. You have a schedule to keep, and mediocre cakes to decorate...badly...but could you not give me the stink eye when I'm looking at your wares with my kids? Pretty please, with a big blob of icing on top?
4. Why are half the packages of strawberries always rotten? You have to allot at least 45 minutes of your hour shopping trip to find two packages of strawberries that aren't fuzzy or leaking. Or fuzzy and leaking. Or fuzzy, leaking, and one of them may have just winked at you...
5. While we're discussing fruit, hey there, teeny tiny packages of raspberries and blackberries that cost a firstborn and a kidney. I'd like to buy you, but I'm still paying off the 'ol van. It's either twelve little raspberries in the smallest plastic container ever, or the rest of the groceries in my cart.
7. Does anyone else think the workers in the meat department are mysterious and strange? They have on the white coats, they appear out of nowhere with handfuls of wrapped meat. It's like their footsteps have no sound. You're innocently looking at a pork loin and you get that prickly sensation on the back of your neck. You turn around and there's a pale man in a doctors coat, hands full of loin needing put away...you kind of just back away slowly...
8. There's just too many choices of ice cream. Chocolate. Vanilla. Strawberry. Chocolate/Vanilla/Strawberry. Chocolate/Vanilla/Strawberry with Fudge! Cookies and Cream. Cherry this, mint that. It goes on forever. We, as a family, have gotten into arguments about which flavor to get. I wonder how many marriages have ended in the ice cream aisle?
9. Ever find yourself standing in front of the frozen pizzas, staring at the pictures, trying to figure out which one sounds and looks the least gross? Maybe it's just me.
10. This isn't an observation from the grocery store, but it is about a grocery item. Does anyone else think all yogurt tastes the same? Strawberry, blueberry, raspberry, orange, chocolate, key lime. They all taste like...yogurt.
They all have slightly different tastes, but not at the same time...hmmm...the Snozberries taste like Snozberries!
1. Hey there, every cashier I encounter at various grocery stores, what you do all day isn't even close to topping the list of shittiest jobs to have. Why are you all so angry? Your angers frightens me. Let's hug it out.
2. You know what's super fun to watch? Someone who's never used the self checkout before. I can just imagine the inner monologue...
Today's the day. You are an intelligent, confident woman. You can ring out your own groceries. How hard could it be to pay for a bottle of wine, three Lean Cuisines and forty-seven cans of cat food?
Ok, here we go.
*boop* Place item in bag. Place item in bag. Place item in bag.
I am placing the item in the bag! I am placing the...ohhh. Oops.
*boop* Place item in bag. Place item in bag.
I AM PLACING THE ITEM IN THE BAG.
Please wait for assistance.
I'm a failure
3. I understand, surly bakery lady, that your time is precious. You have a schedule to keep, and mediocre cakes to decorate...badly...but could you not give me the stink eye when I'm looking at your wares with my kids? Pretty please, with a big blob of icing on top?
4. Why are half the packages of strawberries always rotten? You have to allot at least 45 minutes of your hour shopping trip to find two packages of strawberries that aren't fuzzy or leaking. Or fuzzy and leaking. Or fuzzy, leaking, and one of them may have just winked at you...
5. While we're discussing fruit, hey there, teeny tiny packages of raspberries and blackberries that cost a firstborn and a kidney. I'd like to buy you, but I'm still paying off the 'ol van. It's either twelve little raspberries in the smallest plastic container ever, or the rest of the groceries in my cart. 6. Overeager deli worker, go stir a salad! I'm just walking past you, bring it down a few notches. You're scaring my children.
9. Ever find yourself standing in front of the frozen pizzas, staring at the pictures, trying to figure out which one sounds and looks the least gross? Maybe it's just me.
10. This isn't an observation from the grocery store, but it is about a grocery item. Does anyone else think all yogurt tastes the same? Strawberry, blueberry, raspberry, orange, chocolate, key lime. They all taste like...yogurt.
They all have slightly different tastes, but not at the same time...hmmm...the Snozberries taste like Snozberries!
Oatmeal Banana Walnut Cookies!
I had a burst of energy this morning, and some ripe bananas. So I whipped out some cookies.
They are super soft, almost cake-like compared to a chewy cookie. My family gave them 5 stars, and I had to wrestlea few one away from Noah while they were cooling.
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.
Stir up in a bowl, then set aside:
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon cinnamon
Cream together until light and fluffy:
3/4 cup butter and
1 cup brown sugar
Then add:
1 egg
1 cup mashed banana
1 3/4 cup quick cooking oats
1/2 cup chopped nuts. (I had some in the freezer that were ground pretty fine, I used those up)
Mix Well!
Add dry ingredients, mix well.
Drop by rounded teaspoons on cookie sheet.
Bake 8 minutes, or till they start to get golden.
They are super soft, almost cake-like compared to a chewy cookie. My family gave them 5 stars, and I had to wrestle
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.
Stir up in a bowl, then set aside:
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon cinnamon
Cream together until light and fluffy:
3/4 cup butter and
1 cup brown sugar
Then add:
1 egg
1 cup mashed banana
1 3/4 cup quick cooking oats
1/2 cup chopped nuts. (I had some in the freezer that were ground pretty fine, I used those up)
Mix Well!
Add dry ingredients, mix well.
Drop by rounded teaspoons on cookie sheet.
Bake 8 minutes, or till they start to get golden.
Rebirth
We are celebrating new life in this house. A pair of Cardinals has nested in our rosebush, and they welcomed some babies this weekend. When you walk past you can hear the quiet straining of new lungs, tiny musical peeps coming from the bush. We dare not disturb them, as we do not want to accidently knock the nest down.
As spring is known for new birth and rebirth, I am starting to feel better after battling this virus, but I feel as weak as one of the newborn birds in the nest. I am hoping to awake tomorrow with a renewed sense of self. I am ready to attack the dust bunnies and laundry that has piled up this week.
What I am looking forward to the most are my kids. We’ve been in the same house, but miles apart. Through a fog of fever and fatigue I fed, dressed, and halfheartedly played with my darlings until Daddy got home. Then I went to bed, every day, for five days. I miss them terribly.
God took pity on me, and blessed me with well-behaved children these last few days. Noah made me tear up more than once, when he would put his hands on my cheeks and look in my eyes, “mommy not feel good? Aww, poor mommy is sick. You need to go to the doctor? Aww, my poor sick mommy.”
My children and husband have such beautiful souls. Bob and Emily stepped up and took over, never once complaining. It’s funny to me as a mom, to want to, but cannot. To let others do in my stead. It has given me a thankful heart, to start this week with. It has made me to remember to be thoughtful when others are sick, to be gracious for help when it presents itself. As in, the form of my dad and cousin, come to rescue me the other day. They took the kids out to play and off to bed I went. They were my heroes that day. I can’t remember if I thanked them before I zombie walked off to my bed.
I think we forget sometimes, in the rush of our days, to be thankful for the little things that others do for us. I am going to be more mindful of those moments, and give more thanks and praise. Amen!
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