It's finally mine

In the past, I have never had a Christmas Tree of my own. I have always had what someone else wanted, or come to some twisted compromise of what I thought was beautiful, and what they thought was cool.

Hence ending up with a tree like this:



But this year, I told Matt that I was changing the color scheme. Which he was surprisingly OK with. It actually shocked me how easy he went with it, but I am sure that it had a lot to do with the fact that I was going to make the majority of the ornaments myself. And I did. Over the past month, I have been busting my ass on the ornaments, and honestly?

I will probably redo them next year. It turns out, I want them to be perfect, so any change in that adjustment is going to drive me insane. But for this year, they are absolutely beautiful, and then only thing my tree is missing is the gold beads strung around. Maybe next year.

As for Matt and the girls? They are in love with the tree. Matt never wants to change the color scheme he was once so skeptical about.

Though, he still has his doubts over the tree topper. He wanted a traditional topper, that sat on top, like an Angel. I wanted a teddy bear who just made the top few branches his own personal lounger. I would like to think we made a wonderful compromise.





Tomorrow I will be featuring Matt's "Panther" tree.

Pink Trees and Blue Balls

Today we hit up Walmart again. This time to find a star for the girls pink tree. They love having their very own tree in their bedroom corner. And I love having a place for all of their beautiful handmade ornaments. For $15, it's not an ugly little tree!

So, we go out, and the stuff for little trees is pretty cheap. We found a glittery star for $2, and Emily asked to buy some balls. Matt was trying to steer her toward the silver balls, but my darling sweet Emily had to pick the color SHE wanted the most.

And proceeded to sing on the way out of Walmart: "I got Blue Balls. Mommy and Daddy gave me Blue Balls..."

And mommy and daddy hung their heads in shame. Currently there is a giant blue tree skirt around their tree from our old colors. Matt wants a Panthers tree really bad, so he is plotting to go back and buy the blue one to put on our little side table in the living room. As long as he doesn't touch my tree, I don't think I can really complain.

THINK PINK! Christmas Style...

The girls now have their very own Christmas Tree!

Disconnected

Disconnected from everything. I am sure he is trying, but then, why do I feel like crying all of the time? I think there is something wrong with me. Shouldn't I still be in newlywed glow? I keep hearing that people stay in that stage for months. It's been two months and two days, and I am sitting her on my couch staring at my Christmas tree wondering how much worse I will feel tomorrow.

He kissed me goodbye yesterday before heading to the guys. It was the first time he had really touched me since the 13th. No, I am not joking. Oh, he tried to play up the loveyness while we were at his mothers for Thanksgiving, but I just couldn't fake it. If you aren't going to show me at home, don't try and fake it elsewhere. My fragile sense of mind can't handle it right now.

I don't even think that he realizes that I keep pushing him out of the house to his friends more and more often, just so he's out of the house. At least when he's not here, the lack of attention doesn't feel so strong.

I don't know what happened in 2 short months. What happened to us. Before the wedding, I loved being with him, our sex life was wonderful, our friends faked throwing up over our closeness (Well, Jeff did). And now? I lay in bed right next to him and feel as if there is a great valley between us. Even on nights we didn't have sex, he always reached out to hold me, and now? I am generally lucky if he's even in the bed. If I am trying to fall asleep before him, he comes out into the living room to watch tv and falls asleep on the couch.

I don't know, maybe this all started with my insomnia, with my screwed up dreams, with him putting that stupid 360 in the bedroom after I asked him not too. I just feel unwanted, unloved, and bitchier by the day. And if I bring up how I am feeling, it's all my fault because I am a bitch. It doesn't matter that I am getting meaner and meaner with every second that goes by that I am being ignored. And I am in the wrong for that, I know, but I can't seem to stop myself. And he just laughs off my comments about how our sex life disappeared. About how I feel ugly, fat, and unwanted. By my own husband.

And the sad thing? Even after all of this, I don't think he realizes that anything is wrong.

SANTA! OH MY GOD! SANTA'S COMING! I KNOW HIM! I KNOW HIM!

Today was spent buying paints and shopping. I am making some wooden stars for the Christmas tree, and realizing that I have a whole bunch of homemade ornaments even from last year, where I painted a few Christmas balls. Matt and I have decided that we are going to buy a 3 foot pink tree from Walmart for the girls to put in their room with ornaments that they make. I know they will love it.

We also let the girls pick out their yearly ornaments for the big tree. Emily picked out a purple bell, while Chloe picked a pink convertible. So her. After we left Hobby Lobby (yes, I do live there), we came home for lunch and naptime.

Of course, this is when the events of the earlier entry took place, so let's fast forward.

We headed out to our favorite Christmas Tree lot. They are family owned, have AWESOME trees, and great prices. They also value their customers, because every year they send out a card giving you 10% off of the tree. They do a hay ride (FREE) for the kids and even have a sled out for the kids to sit in and get their picture taken in. It's such a wonderful place.

Christmas trees and I have a funny thing between us. Every year I say that we are going to wait to buy the tree, and yet every year I buy it either on or the day after, Thanksgiving. I can't help myself.

And this year, I really really love our tree.

Except for the fact, it's crooked. They cut the base at an angle, which is irritating, but Matt can fix that. I can't wait to decorate the tree!




(this is my living room after we got all the Christmas stuff out of the attic!)


And the crooked Christmas tree:

Men are useless

Matt and I decided to try and fix the trunk door on the van, which was not unlatching. This involves removing the entire back panel on the inside. Once we got it fixed, we took a break. I mean, it's kind of tiring taking off and entire back panel, when you have to keep saying "No Matt, just let me do it".

I came in before he did, he had the keys and wanted to mess some more. I was cold and the kids needed to take a nap after their lunch (Chloe does quiet time with a book). While I was doing this, he came in, with the keys, and went to the bathroom, put up the milk, eggs, and eggnog, and then set on the couch.

After a while, we decided to put the van back together again, so I went to grab the keys from where he "put them". They were not there. He rolled his eyes and said that of course they were, I just wasn't looking. He comes over, they are not there. He retraces his footsteps.

No keys.

I tell him to check the couch while I check the fridge, the girls bathroom, and the bedroom.

No keys.

He checks under the couch, behind the tv, and in the cushions while I head outside to scour the van.

No Keys.

At this point we are both getting angry. He goes through the trash in the kitchen and both bathrooms, while I go through all the dirty clothes.

No Keys.

We sit down to eat lunch before starting to look again, but we still can't find them, and we go out to put the van together, I mean, at least we still have the spare set until we find them. We just won't be able to use the remote access.

After we put everything back together, and I am getting the house ready for us to leave to go get our Christmas Tree, something tells me to check the couch cushions one more time, as I hadn't done it myself.

Oh My God. Keys.

Under the first damn cushion I lift.

I have been baking since Tuesday Night

And I am finally done. Matt can throw the two casseroles in the oven while I shower tomorrow. We have 2 Thanksgiving dinners to attend tomorrow. My MIL's and my sisters. No offense to my MIL, but I am most excited to be spending Thanksgiving with my sister. It's been a long time, and plus, this will be the opportunity for my nephew to spit up on me again.

No, seriously. Every.Single.Time. Last time he even pooped on me. I think if some type of bodily fluid doesn't get on me, my feelings will be hurt. (watch him pee in my eye this time)

Now that the bodily fluids are done... What have I been baking/cooking since Tuesday? Cookies, two 3 layer chocolate cakes, fresh rolls and corn bread muffins, Green bean casserole, and two macaroni and cheese casseroles. It's 2:26am and I am just now finishing up.

Of course, this two day cooking doesn't take into account the 2 pumpkin fluffs that I made. 1 for my nephews birthday party and 1 for Chloe's class party. Along with a loaf of pumpkin bread for her class party. And a cookie pie, just to try out the recipe.

So, here are the "fruits" of my Thanksgiving labor. Everything I make is pure homemade:

My cookies:



1 of the cakes I baked:


Dinner Rolls (first time I have ever made these!) I hope they reheat well.


Corn Bread Muffins. I can do these with my eyes closed:


Green Bean Casserole. This is the second time I have ever made this. Matt said a few years ago, the one I made was awful. I was crushed. Cross your fingers! I am putting on the crispy onions and baking in the AM:


One of the Mac and Cheese casseroles (baked mac and cheese)Will bake in the AM:


What my kitchen table looked like this morning:


And here is what happens when you have left over chocolate frosting and two extra cookies you don't need and your husband wants to play with the leftover royal icing in the piping bag:


Yes. That's a cookie sandwich.

I think I hate my mother

I wish I could say I was at the point that I don't care, but looking at my wedding pictures, I will forever remember the fact that being an alcoholic was more important to her than seeing her youngest daughter get married. That's pretty damn sad.

I can't stand people who use their illnesses as a crutch. This world has become so politically correct about it too. Don't say anything to offend the person, because they have an illness. We need to excuse them for their actions, because they have an illness. And generally, it's THEM saying this, and then people thinking they are being helpful agreeing with them, and calling you a bitch for calling them on it.

I had this exact scenario happen numerous times with my mother and stepfather, and so, when I see it in other situations, it makes me so angry, I just want to slam their head against a wall. That's not healthy, right? Yeah, I know. I guess having been in the middle of crazy, it drives me that much more crazy.

Guess what? A diagnosis is just that. It helps pinpoint the problem, and then, you start getting help for it. You don't say and do stupid crap and then say that people need to understand, because you have an illness. It's a crutch when you do that. And excuse.

Hear that mother dearest? We aren't stupid.

Frustrated

I feel stuck. I want my house clean, but every time I get started, it just seems to get worse and worse.

Matt is a big help with the house, but on his own time. He never wants to do it when I do. I should probably change my schedule, but doing dishes and washing clothes is not fun to do when I am ready for bed.

I really don't have much besides that to write. I have a kitchen full of dishes I need to clean and start on Thanksgiving.

I need to take a shower

Nice title, right? Well, I do. I have a big night ahead of me. Dinner and a movie with my husband. But not just any movie. THE MOVIE. The one I have been waiting for since last year. New Moon.

And yes, when he bought the tickets, I did squeal like a little school girl. How did you know?

To top off a great night (he bought them last night), he also bought my Christmas gift. Signed me up for the Wilton Cake decorating classes!

It's called "school girl chic!"

Chloe attends a school system that requires uniforms. In some ways, life is easier, but in others, it just makes me want to bank my head against a wall. I like them, but then, I miss letting her wear the cute little outfits I like to buy. Instead having her assert her creativity in outfits by buying her the funky songs and tights. And of course, shoes. She hates her school uniforms and remarks on it about twice a week.

So, when we get the rare opportunity to allow her to wear an outfit that is not a uniform, a great big cheer goes up, and Chloe, my 7 year old little goth, becomes all smiles. Today is Holiday Picture Day at school.

Needs Vs. Wants

I NEED to start on Emi's Christmas blanket. I WANT to start drilling holes into stars.

Hmmm.... Choices.....

Now I NEED and WANT to go to bed. Let's see if that works out for me tonight.

All I want for Christmas is some sleep

Pretty much not joking there. Due to my not sleeping for 32 hours, I was not delirious, but I am not able to put anything from those two days into any kind of time line. My brain simply won't cooperate. I fell asleep on Monday around 4:30 finally, shutting out all noise and doing my best to allow myself to shut my brain down. Which I think is the problem, and what I envy about Matt. My brain just won't stop, and he has this wonderful ability to just tune out.

Which is why it's 1:54am right now and I am awake, and he is blissful. But then, it's also why I am getting all of my Christmas stuff done. Ornaments baked and painted, and one No Sew blanket down. Chloe's. It's has pink and brown cats on it, with a brown backing. I am hoping that she'll love it. I think I might be crushed if she doesn't. I don't worry about Emily's. That child is super easy to please. She'll see princess's and say it's the best present ever. But Chloe? She's a bit more picky than that, which has me on pins and needles. I hope she loves it.

I am worried *(TMI: Ladies issues)

I have been having personal female issues for years. Ever since I was younger. First I had polyps on my ovaries, but they went away on their own. I was 16. Not long after that, I started having really painful periods. They hurt before, but this was a new kind of pain, that would keep me out of school it hurt so bad. A doctor told me he didn't think I would be able to have children, and that he thought I had early stage endometriosis.

In foster care, they tend to forget to take you back to the doctor. So it was never confirmed. And as just a few short years later, I gave birth to my first daughter, I think he was wrong. After that though, my painful periods went away. From having 8 day long, heavy, painful periods, to 3 days, pretty light.

I got pregnant with Emily a little while later, and all was fine. Then I started bleeding and didn't stop. For almost 3 months straight. Going on different birth control evened it out again, but the polyps came back, they started shrinking and disappearing, but the doctor kept me off of birth control to see what the problem was. About this time, I had to leave my job as I no longer had a sitter I could afford for the children, and lost my insurance. I haven't been back to the doctor since September 2008.

In the past year, I have missed months, had two periods in a month, month long periods... I don't know what's wrong with me and it scares me. Yes, I know I need to go back to the doctor, but trying to find an insurance that will accept me with out causing us to lose our house is nearly impossible. And I don't know what to do.

And I feel alone in it. It's not like Matt doesn't care, he just doesn't think about, where as I am worried about it all the time. You wonder, "what will it be today? Spotting? Light? Or massacre?" I mean some days, I go to the bathroom, and when I wipe, there is a blood clot, but NOTHING ELSE HAPPENS. No other blood, nor pain. And everyone else is going on their merry ole' way, while you are scared there is something seriously wrong. And wondering "why me"?

So, I didn't totally screw them up!

Though, knowing me, I wouldn't have been very surprised if I had! I tried two different recipes. The bigger ones are the ones you BAKE and the smaller ones are the GLUE ones (and if for some reason you are too daft to figure it out on your own, the capital words that are a different color? yeah, they are the links to the recipe I used for each)

Now, if anyone knows a non bake recipe I can use that doesn't call for cinnamon, let me know. See, I paint them, and after that, they just don't smell. So there is no need for the good smelling expensive cinnamon.

Here are the final works:








And of course, Chloe and Emily made their own:

Little Miracles

Remember the day your child started wearing panties and you no longer had to buy diapers? This is the feeling I get now that my 7 year old takes her own shower, without me having to help her every single step of the way. It's like a mini vacation and bath time is no longer a chore.

Oh, what do you mean I still have to bath my 4 year old? Spoilsport.

The Turkey is now a Pretty Pretty Princess

When doing dual households, sometimes things slip through the cracks, as hard as we might try for them not to. Ricky and I try hard to not let them, and when it comes to making baked goods and doing the art projects, that usually falls to me. Unfortunately, if I don't know about them... Like I said, things slip. If I had looked in her bookbag when he dropped her off after his weekend, I would have seen it and jumped. But I didn't. Because I suck. Sometimes.

The project was to decorate a turkey so that it's incognito for Thanksgiving. Hopefully, we won't see through the disguise and decide to eat this delectable brown paper turkey. And I wonder why she refuses to eat meat? (yes, I know, apparently Meatloaf is NOT meat. Just ask her).

So, the project is finished. Would you like to see the turkey?

Be honest, could you really eat such a defenseless little turk...I mean Pretty Pretty Princess?

How would I look as a blonde?

And as an heiress?



OH! Like a washed up reality tv star that thankfully broke away from her BFF Paris Hilton!
Create your own FACEinHOLE

You know you are a little too obessed with Twilight when...

You are getting out of the van at Target and notice you are all shimmery. You look at your husband and ask why you are all shimmery, he rolls his eyes and says you must be a vampire. You roll your eyes, smile, and then notice the car next to you and scream:

"OH MY GOD! IT'S A SILVER VOLVO AND I AM GLITTERY IN THE SUNLIGHT!!!!!"

Authors have real lives too!

I have this author that I love (well numerous authors, but let's focus on this one for a moment). It occurred to me just yesterday that she has a life outside of just entertaining me with her writing. It's very much a selfish thought on my part.

Jennifer Estep is such a great writer. I love her books. I can't even remember the number of times I have read Karma Girl. I have actually finished the book, and then just picked it up to read it again because I didn't want it to end. These books are my own personal book candy.

There are three books in the series as of now. Karma Girl, Hot Mama, and Jinx. The premise of the books are about a town called Bigtime, that has both Super Heroes and Villains. The best and the worst of them all. Karma Girl is about a reporter who unmasks them. And the consequences that follow.

Of course, they are written for us women, so you know that there are romances as well. With hot sexy men who turn me on just reading about them on the pages of her books.

Of course, I am completely off topic now. This was all about how she has her own real life and is not my own personal story teller.

Mrs. Butterworths Blood

Have you ever used Mrs. Butterworths? The shape of the bottle is a woman. We use the sugar free version:

I am starting to think this was not the best marketing idea. At least, not for my house. Because my demonic children have decided that they want Mrs. Butterworths blood. No, they NEED Mrs. Butterworths blood.

I have got to stop making pancakes.

Dove, we need to have a talk

I don't know who in your marketing department thought of this, and after your awesome Female Empowerment commercials, I didn't think you were this stupid.

In this course of designing a new bottle for your product, did it ever occur to you, that once in a while there will be a mom in the store, with two kids, and a husband who keeps rushing her? One that would see the lotion bottle, see that it's for Daily Moisture and grab it, rushing, just so her husband will shut up about the stupid game that started? (To which they lost, just because of this I guess)

Here is the lotion bottle in question:


Want a closer shot?


Still can't see it? How about now?


Yeah. Whose bright idea was it to make a conditioner bottle look like a freaking LOTION bottle? Please tell me. I need to email the asshat. How about making those words a little bit bigger next time.

It's all fun and games till it winds up on the internet

When I was 18, fresh out of college, I worked at a company called Advance Til Payday. It's actually where I met Chloe's biological father (yeah, shocker, should have seen that one coming)

Today, while looking at funny hair pictures on Don't Judge My Hair, I came across a picture and screamed I KNOW HER!!!!



It's my old co-worker Mary. LMAO, Hi Mary!!! That guy you told me to date? The one you were related to? Yeah, kind of a douche bag.

Thanks.

On request from my husband

LMAO

Pictures of Pictures

Some friends of mine were sharing pictures today, and many of them uploaded pics of when they were younger. So, in a flash of genius, I decided to take pictures of my pictures. (Real Rocket Scientist I tell ya)

This would be the guy I wrote about the other day. My first love Jason and I before our prom (10 years ago!!!):



I was 18 here on my Aunts front porch:


These 3 would be me pregnant with Chloe, at my babyshower, and right after her birth:




And here I am right before I left for work one morning years ago with Chloe in my lap. She was so little!:

Not sure how I feel about this

Not that it really matters. It's not my choice, and I am sure I didn't even weigh into the decision. Why would I? She's never met me, and has spoken to me on the phone twice, and those were both in the past 7 years.

How many people can boast a living Jewish Grandmother, who they have never met? Who knows of their existence, and just really doesn't care? What do you even call the person? I mean Grandma seems a little informal to call a stranger.

It's always bothered me that I haven't met her. Now that I might get the chance? It's kind of scary. She's going to be at my dads this week, but with Chloe in school, I can't just take off to meet her.

I just don't know. Well, bubbe seems a little informal too.

Teanne Harris is a Goddess

With nothing better to do, I was reading Yahoo News, and saw the headline "Jilted bride surprises seniors with party" As I am still sappy to all things wedding, I clicked the link, wondering what happened.

Apparently this lovely woman's fiance got "cold feet", which is code for saying his a freaking douchebag jerkoff. When she and her mom went to get the deposits back, it was unfortunately too late. Which as many a bride knows, there is only a small window of opportunity to get a dime back for anything.

Apparently, there is a senior citizens home right across the street, and the beautiful woman decided to "donate" her wedding reception to the senior citizens living there.

This woman, Teanne Harris, is a Goddess. I wish her all the best in the world and I hope she finds a man deserving of her loving heart. As for her ex, Matt Harker? May he soon realize what a tool he was.

Link to original story

I think I was poisoned

Though, whenever I say this, Matt rolls his eyes and tells me that I was not poisoned, I am just sick with a stomach virus. Which of course just happens to be overlapping my sinus infection. If there ever was a cure for coughing, being afraid to poop yourself is a really really good one. Oh, sorry, was that TMI? Don't worry. I haven't done it. Yet.

I just want to feel better. Moaning in pain is so not a good look for me.

Diary of the daughter of an alcoholic

It's been over a year since we got the restraining order. It's lapsed now. We had some issues, but nothing where she ever violated it. We didn't see the need to push to have it renewed.

Halloween, my stepfather asked to come over to bring the baskets they put together for the girls. Chloe still won't see them and Emily was down for her nap. Matt said he seemed disappointed. For some reason, this made me feel really guilty.

While at Los Arcos I told Matt we should take the girls by. Call it nostalgia, or whatever, it was a split moment choice I never thought I would make. It took some major convincing for Chloe to agree to it. So Matt called to let them know we would be coming over. It was 8:30.

My stepfather said Thank you, but that they were sleeping, so not to come over. Really? Sleeping at 8:30 on a Saturday night? And not getting up to see your grandchildren that you were not legally allowed to see? Seeing your daughter/stepdaughter who you haven't seen in a year?

I instantly knew what the real story was. She was drunk. There was no doubt, still is no doubt, that she must have been drinking. My stepfather must be stupid. I used to live there. I know all the excuses.

And I am sad. I put myself out there and was shown what a stupid fool I really am.

Adventures with Blankie

When Emily was a newborn, I came across a soft beautiful blanket at Walmart. Over the course of the past few years, the blankets wore out, and I continued to replace them, and she never knew the difference, except that it was her pink blanket that kept her safe.

One day while perusing the aisles at Walmart, I noticed that the blankets were on clearance, which is the kiss of death for items. This means they are gone. At this point, Emily was down to her last blanket. I grabbed the three remaining blankets and hoped and prayed they would last her until she was married.

When she became obsessed with the color purple (as I am) I dyed them all purple. Thank God she's still all about the purple.

We are down to the last one, and at 4, she shows no sign of not loving that blanket. It's still her best friend, her safety, her one true love. Do not dream of putting her down for bed/nap without it, otherwise, you will hear cries that will pierce your heart.

This blanket has been everything to her. A picnic blanket, a tissue, a superwoman cape, a magicians cape, a rock, a pillow, a person to dance with, a cave, a tent... You name it blanket has been there for her.

The Princess Skirt:


The Virgin Mary:


and plain just cute!


Take a bow Emily! It's naptime!