So, I was planning on updating my blog, well, I’d been planning to for awhile with all kinds of good stuff and updates, but it seems that someone with the same email address as my ex-husband has decided to troll here and leave nasty comments full of lies for his own amusement.

Apparently… He has this romanticized idea of the past, where he is the good guy and I’m such a monster. I can’t believe it’s gotten to the point in his head where he’s managed to confuse what HE did with what I did. Some people lie SO much that eventually they start believing their own lies, I guess. But, well, this is MY house, and you guys know me. The real me, not the person he’d like me to be based on these comments. Instead of approving them, i decided to put them here instead, just for you guys.

Here’s one of several lovely delusional comments from him. (left on this post)

” I gotta say this was interesting to read. I don’t even know where to begin.. You’re like Alice in wonderland and you’re stuck in this sick twisted fantasy world. One my brother hated you. In fact he often questioned why I was with you. He saw how self destructive you were how you lied. I NEVER told you I didn’t want these kids. That’s why I’m still here with them when you voluntarily left them behind. Who was the one that before we came back to CT in 2002 found it more important to get cocaine or ecstasy or pills rather than taking care of the kids?? YOU! who thought it was more important to party? YOU! I can think of numorous occasions where I scooped up the kids and left because you and everyone else went on ecstasy binges with the kids there. So I smoked a little pot back then, I still got up every morning with them changed their diapers and went to work all while you slept in, despite me asking if you many times if you would mind getting up with them so I can have a turn to
sleep in, then you proceeded to play on the computer all fuckin day long. And how dare you talk about my brother like you were close with because you NEVER were. Yes it broke me when he died but you know what? 2 years after it was ME who wanted to come back to CT and go back to school and get a career so I can provide for my children. And I did just that. You couldn’t handle coming back here could you? So what did you do 2 months after we came back? You left! You left your kids without even saying bye! So who’s the one who wanted their single life back?? Who’s the one that thru her actions showed she didn’t want kids?? Who chose drugs and alcohol over her kids?? YOU! I’m here, I’m with them ! ME! drug and alcohol free with a great job just like I planned on doing! Don’t you talk about my brother like you care, like it impacted your life so badly because that’s bullshit!! Pull your head out of your ass for once and stop playing the poor victim! And just remember that you left your
kids by choice on your own. Those two kids who you claim to love so dearly, you left them! And now they’re old enough to see it. I didn’t have to tell them and I never spoke ill of you to them. They see you for what you are and they know you left and why. In their precious little minds, you don’t give a shit, that’s how they feel and see you!”

Kudos for using your dead brother to attack me, by the way. Classy. I’m sure he would be proud.And the fact that I was pregnant when I left YOU kind of throws a bone in the whole ” She just wanted to not be a mom and go party” theory there, huh? ( So does the fact that, unlike you, I grew up when I had kids, and you couldn’t even quit smoking pot long enough to pass a drug test.)

And here’s the second one: ( From this post)

This one makes me laugh.. Where’d you come up with this? Because I remember it differently.. Yes my job was important, why? Because I was the only one willing to work. You never worked up to that point in our relationship because you had daddy to mooch off of. One little phone call and a few days later had money in the mail, if he didn’t wire it to you. All you had to do, and did, was sit around all day reading books, playing on the computer, eating sunflower seeds. I’m not saying you didn’t cook or clean once in a while because you did, not everyday tho. I’d say it was about equal. I did my share after I came home from work. And college? The only college I know you went to was a couple years before we even had a kid and you only went for a few weeks that I know of and then dropped out because you were on drugs.  And you weren’t even talking to me at that time, you kicked me out of your dads and I was living with my mom. Remember? And what are you talking about
“you weren’t allowed” to have a social life?? Remember we had the same friends? Dave and Duff?? Remember them? We saw them everyday.. If we weren’t at their house they were at ours.. Id say you were pretty social. What was that about daycare? We never put our child in any daycare. We had your pain in the ass mom living with us and off of us. Between you and her being there all day we didn’t need a babysitter or daycare. Funny how you make it sound like you were controlled and sheltered because you were anything but. Funny how you make me out to be this terrible person when I was the one who worked full time and went to every doctors appointment, Lamaze class and stayed at the hospital when you gave birth. And we didn’t move around alot and it wasn’t ALL my decision. We moved three times I believe and each time it was of equal decision and to a bigger place. First we lived in the shitty little apartment then it was that two bedroom on Taylor Ave then that three bedroom on Seneca.
Hope I refreshed your memory Martha Stewart..

BTW, you all remember the first time he cheated on me? That was with my “good friend” Duff.  Yeah. That’s why we were at their house ever day. Dave was HIS friend from work. Not mine.  I guess having one friend who is only my friend because you are sleeping with her makes me a regular social butterfly, huh?

Bring it, genius.

Conversing with the Universe.

Sometimes, I light candles and sit, yoga style on the floor. I relax and I focus on communing, becoming one with everything around me. I breathe slowly, in and out, counting each breath. I feel at peace.

And sometimes, in those quiet moments, I have conversations with the universe.

The last one went something like this:

Me: So, Universe. I thought I had asked for a break?

Universe: Oh, did you now? I must have missed the memo.

Me: I’m not asking for a million dollars you know, just maybe a day without puke, or poo in some forms. C’mon. Yesterday was like this:

(If you must know whats in the bag, mouse hover over the picture.)

Universe: Aw, where is your sense of humor?

Me: (I make my very best Not Amused face here)

Universe: Look,  we gave you shit to be thankful for. Like…puppies!

Me:  Well, the little one got into a fight with my bathmat, (and lost) which was kind of funny:

But then, someone thought it would be a good idea to make me think the gate was closed when it really wasn’t. I know you saw me when I was chasing both dogs several blocks down the street in my pajamas, then dragging them home, literally, because the big one had no collar on. Have I mentioned physical exertion plus stress makes me puke more than normal?  And that the big dog weighs 80lbs or so?

Universe: Well, you did say you wanted more exercise.

Me: …And, yeah, I heard you snickering when I bashed my head on the gate after I locked it. Don’t think I didn’t.

Universe: Oops. <Ethereal Snickering>

Me: Ok, so you were bored. I understand that it can be mildly entertaining to kick people when they are down. I get that. But…the fainting? That’s just cruel.

Universe: You said you needed more rest…

Me: So, um, why the stabbing kidney pains all night long then? And the toilet that keeps randomly overflowing for no apparent reason?

Universe: Have you noticed the weather?

Me: Sigh.

Universe: Look, did you ever think that maybe we were testing you? That, you know, everything happens for a reason?

Me: Yes. And then I spend several hours on the bathroom floor between the toilet and the bathtub. And also,  have I mentioned:

Universe: Suck it up.

Me: Wait, are you trying to tell me to clean my bathroom floor? Cause I already knew that. I didn’t need cosmic guidance for that, that’s what the man is for.

Universe: Heh.

Me: SIGH. Can you at least give me someone to talk to?

Universe: …

Me: And maybe, some flowers and chocolate the next time you fuck me?

Universe: We’ll see.

Me: …

Universe: In the mean time, suck it up.

Me: We’ll see.

Good Fences and Neighbors

I assume you’ve heard the saying “Good fences make good neighbors”

Well, we need a better fence.

Also some advice on getting these fuckers to behave.

And, lest you get upset about me calling my dogs “fuckers” I direct you here.

The big one digs holes for the little one to squeeze under, and the last 4 times, those holes have been directly into the neighbors yard.

Needless to say, the neighbor is not amused. I can’t blame him much either.

Our dogs also bark at each other when they are both out, although, I feel somewhat less bad about that since, before we had a dog, his little yappy one used to bark at us continuously whenever we were outside. And also shit on our front lawn.

Did I mention that I’m convinced the guy stole our recycling bin?

But, back to the fence, the ones the dogs keep getting under. It’s their fence, and it’s rotting. falling apart. Boards literally fall off into our yard. and the bottom half is partially gone in places, so the dogs don’t need to work real hard to get through it.

We have lined the bottom of the fence with wood, and the dogs have since dug under that.  So we have resorted to keeping the little one on a chain when he is outside.  I need a better idea, that won’t cost millions of dollars. (We have a huge yard)

Also, do any of those bark stopping things work? Keep in mind, I can’t put a shock collar on a 5lb chihuahua.

Not alone

It is nice to know that I am not the only person in the world who has had to shit in a trashbag.

Highlights of life on my planet.

Oh, god, I have to do the poo test again. Oh god.  Fuck you universe, Fuck youuuuu.

Ok, now that I have gotten that out of my system. We are getting ready for nondenominationalholidaylikecelebrationofseasonsandalsohanukkahhere.  ( or NDSHCSH, for short)

It’s not as easy as you’d think to have  the  holidays without Jesus, or Santa. Especially with a five year old who now goes to public school. Where they apparently, talk about God. Yes, even though that is not supposed to happen. We live in the South, people.  When she came home near Thanksgiving, with a paper that said she was thankful for “god”, I was encouraged to let it slide. We figured she might not have understood the question and so one of the teachers made some suggestions about what she could be thankful for.

How about “I’m thankful for my mother, for putting up with my crap and loving me anyway?” Or even, “I’m thankful for my house, or for the fact that we can afford dinner?”

Okay, maybe these ideas were over her head at this point, but still. I think they should not have given her a suggestion to be thankful for something that she has absolutely no concept of.  And had her write it on something we are supposed to cherish  and keep. I asked her, when I saw it, if she even knew what god was, and she shrugged and said no. And then when she came home from her field trip to the farm, and told me the trip was “.. a miracle.” I just sighed.  “Do you even know what a miracle is?” I asked. ” Nope” she replied, ” But Stephanie’s Mom said so.”

It’s not that I hate god so very much that I don’t want his name mentioned in my child’s presence. (Ask me how I feel about most organized religion some other day) It’s just that I do not think it is anyone’s place but ours to teach her about these things. And it is certainly not the responsibility of a teacher or some room mom to tell my kid that she should be thankful for some magical being in the sky who she has no concept of, whatsoever.

Chances are high that she is going to be raised with at least some knowledge of Judaism, and its rituals. She will probably even participate in some of them herself. And when she is old enough to really understand, we will teach her about the different religions, and also about what we, respectively, believe. And let her decide. She can make an educated choice. But it will be her choice. Not yours. Not even mine. No matter how much I want it to be mine.

I really do try to respect other peoples beliefs, or at least their right to have them, no matter how I feel about them. I really wish people would respect mine. That’s not to say I don’t talk about I feel about some of it (because I clearly do this far too often), just that I recognize that other people have the right to think/believe/pray to whatever they want. (And I have the right to make fun of it if I so choose.)

The point is, I don’t go around, trying to convert people to my way of thinking. So,  please stop doing it to me (and my kid). Stop telling me I should worship like you, or I’m going to hell.

A- I don’t believe in your hell, and

B-What do you care what I believe anyway? How does it affect your life? At all? Same goes for my kid. Leave her alone. Especially in school.

So, now that I have gone off on a tangent, let me get back to my point. We have a tree. We have stockings even, because its fun. We also have a menorah. We don’t have angels, or mangers or bible stories. We have stripped it down to the basic pagan roots, we have a tree, we bake stuff, we give each other gifts, usually on Hanukkah, with stockings for Yule, which usually ends up being Christmas anyway.

We don’t actually do Santa though. We have talked about it, and really, I have no problem with Santa, as he is mostly an obviously fictitious pagan deity based on a crazy guy who may or may not existed, and really has nothing to do with Christ, or God.

O.K. On rereading that, he does sound rather Christ-Like.

My point is, he’s not really part of the whole miracle-that-is-Christ’s-birth part of Christmas, and he is supposed to be fun. But, as the UnHusband pointed out, neither of us technically celebrate Christmas, so why should we do the whole Santa thing?

The part of me that grew up with the joys of Santa is a bit saddened by the taking away of that little bit of magic from the kid. Which is totally hypocritical, I know. But still. Its hard to let go of something you grew up with. I understand that. (I think if I grew up in a highly religious family, I’d have had a harder time letting that stuff go as well too.)

Maybe. Or maybe not, since people generally admit that Santa does not in fact, actually exist. That he is just for fun, just a symbol.

I just hope she does not go to school and ruin it for the other kids. How do I approach that? Tell her to lie to other kids? Or lie to her myself and tell her Menorahs are Santa-Kryptonite and Santa can’t come to your house if you have one?

Sigh.

Um, getting back to topic, (I can haz a topic?) We decorated last Friday. And had the traditional fight that lasted all of Saturday and Sunday. Ahh the holidays, just like Mom used to make.

The tree looks absolutely awesome, if I do say so myself, and, well, See for yourself. This is what the “holidays” are really about, to me. Not this, this:

A Poo Post

If you have no idea what this stuff is for, consider yourself lucky. Also, you are about to be educated.  After my last doctors appointment, I was presented with a package of fun tubes and slides, for another round of “What the fuck is wrong with you this week” testing. I was going to do this all in private, and tell no one about it ever, but then I read the instructions, and I couldn’t not share them with you. It  would be wrong of me to keep this to myself.

So lets check out: “How to Collect Poo, in Eight Languages!”

Click to enlarge.

Pay close attention to the little pictures along the top. By far, the best part.

That sad face was also on the little vials. In case you feel the urge to drink the poo you have collected, please don’t, as it will make you make that face. I also like how they thoughtfully drew a little turd in the toilet illustration. Also, do not let small children play with Poo.

Feel free to enlarge that and read the list of ” Don’ts” My favorite is the one warning you not to shit directly into the tubes. In case you are confused about where you SHOULD shit, refer once again to the happy illustration for acceptable places.

Yes, that last one appears to be a bowl and a Tupperware container.

Fortunately, I had the foresight to ask  for this thing this time around:

I highly suggest that should you ever have to do this in the future, you ask for one of those things.  It seems to be called a “hat” for whatever reason. I did not get one of these last time and was left with a fun dilemma. Ended up  going with trash bag over toilet seat, which I do not recommend.

All in all, it’s an extremely humiliating experience, but at least the instructions are entertaining.

The next person that asks me “How was your day?” is going to regret it.