Four

Four boys keep you busy, well four of anything I think would keep you busy, I feel like I have been in and out of a cloud of fog these past 2 years or so and it is starting to lift and I am starting to feel human again somewhat and not a baby-making wet-nurse nose-wiping diaper-changing butt-wiping housekeeper chef taxi-driver caretaker personal shopper, well you get the drift, all rolled into one and life is starting to get easier or maybe it’s not and I shouldn’t have said anything like I am looking up recipes again! and I haven’t done that in YEARS seriously recipes? who has the time for that certainly not me these past 2 years but I am becoming adventurous and finding recipes to cook something different I tell ya’ other than things I can cook with one eye closed because that is how I have been functioning since I was pregnant with Michael who is 2 now! 2! can you believe it because I certainly can not and now here I sit at the computer with some time to myself, holy shit, time to myself, while the little guy plays with some Legos and I thought to myself, well let’s take a peek at my blog because it has been so long and I got all nervous and overwhelmed and maybe a little sweaty and excited because I was once so invested in this and I basically one day just kicked it to the curb and now I have this time and well, I thought I would see how it’s doing and it’s still here and alive and kickin’ so maybe, just maybe I can come back and check on it once in awhile without feeling obligated because I am just now starting to think about it and how much I have missed it. Phew.


Rusty

Eek, it’s been a little while.

I can’t believe I was still able to log in.

The layout is entirely different.

Will I remember how to do this?

Do I have time to do this?

Do I want to do this?

I’m so rusty. I’m so boring.

Will they want me back?


Afro Baby

Don’t think I don’t think about you.  I do.  Often.

I’ve just been busy…

 


And then came baby…

I am madly in love.

Meet Michael.


Thanks……………………But no thanks.

A couple of weeks ago, my mother-in-law called.

I was folding laundry in the living room when I heard the phone ring.  I looked at the caller ID and saw it was her, then I glanced at the time on the clock.  It was 4:30.

I hadn’t talked to her in over a year, but I answered the phone anyway.

I could tell right away.  She was drunk.

She had heard I was pregnant and wanted to congratulate me, us.

I interrupted her slurred, cigarette-puffing, sloppy speech and told her that meant nothing coming from her.  Don’t you get it?  Well, let me explain it to you one final time.  We don’t have a relationship with you because you are a drunk.  Yet you call here, drunk.  Don’t call our home again until you are sober.  Then I hung up.

When it comes to her, my children were dealt a pretty shitty grandma hand.


Bumps

I got dressed today.

In real clothes.

I have been wearing yoga pants and sweatshirts every day, for oooh, months now.

But I have to go somewhere important tonite.

And, my gosh, I look pregnant!

And Chesty tends to get in the way these days, don’t mind her.


Deja Vu

What are the chances?

What are the chances, that days after blogging about the first incident, it would happen again?
What are the chances that my 5-year-old son would be lost by his school’s transportation, again?
If you were a risk taker and put all your money on us,
you’d be a winner.
Nic’s ok.  Again.
Everything turned out fine.  Again.
But I am completely disgusted with the incompetence and neglect by our school district’s department of transportation.
Stay tuned…just because he doesn’t ride the bus anymore doesn’t mean it’s over.