I know that traditionally, the big announcement typically comes at around the time the miscarriage risk goes away...like, around 13 weeks or so. Well, in divine Nicolioso fashion, I have delayed to let the blog community in on the news. Don't worry, I will not become a mom who writes about barf or shitty diapers or anything, I mean...I do already have a nine year old and giving the Nick Jr. daily lineup isn't really my thang!
I would like to start a separate blog about being a mom, But I promise it will be relevant, non-cheesy advice for real people who have just happened to procreate. It seems like sometimes parents believe that they have to sacrifice some element of their intelligence in order to pass it to their offspring but I believe the contrary. I believe that we can only become smarter when dealing with these new-age super humans. They aren't like other people...they are scary.
So I guess that's it y'all...I am pregnant. Um, just do me a favor and don't tell my parents, they are really gonna be pissed that I haven't moved out yet AND plan on bringing in another tenant.
Just kidding.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Mommy dearest and her slow suicide.
Seeing as though I am not really what you would call punctual and orderly, I am finding it difficult to find the time or reason to write. I mean, it isn't as though I am hard at work, being nine months pregnant and unemployed. Sure, I am "nesting" a little bit here, but I have even lost my zeal to continue to clean a house that will never really be properly cared for as long as I continue to dwell with a woman who tallies her every movement yet rarely moves (and no, I am not talking about myself).
I know I shouldn't complain about someone whom my vices with include, her complaining, but I need to vent! I need to get this off of my chest somehow. I am not sure what the problem with my mother is, or why she refuses to acknowledge that there is one at all, but it has got to stop! My mother's name is Connie. I am not sure if telling you her name is inappropriate, but I don't want anyone to feel as though I am not aware that she is a genuine human being, with feelings and her own identity. All of my life she has made me suffer a certain inadequacy by referring to me as "You people" or "Kathy Bryant" (which is her late mother's name) instead of using my name or recognizing my individuality as a person which is something that I could not see myself doing to her or anyone. You see, her mother, Kathy, was not as nice to her as she would have liked. She constantly tells us about the ways in which her mother would degrade her, boss her around, make her feel like she was unimportant in regards to herself. She tells me that her mother was selfish and only cared for her own bottom line. She has all of these memories of her mother which have left deep scars in her life, yet, when she speaks to me she doesn't realize that she is leaving the same wounds on her own children. As a matter of fact, she vehemently denies it.
Lately, my mother has reached an all time low. She is worse than she has been in years, refusing to work or even leave the house, but never taking a break from her criticisms and self praise. She is significantly overweight and has been diagnosed with heart disease for some time now, and yet, I see her on a downward physical spiral that seems to parallel her emotional one. My father, who has been her loyal husband for thirty years, is numb at best by her behavior and is definitely on his way out the door. My little sister, who is nearly eighteen this December, rarely leaves the confines of her room which has become the only escape she has... Her only way of not completely losing hope that all people aren't like our mother. My daughter, Paizlee, is nine years old and truly loves her grandma although she too is now becoming aware of the strange manner in which she isn't like other people. She now notices that her grandmother doesn't use proper and normal greetings when she sees someone, or the way she will sit around all day long and argue that her doing the dishes means she did an aerobic activity. And as for me, as for the one whom she accuses of knowing her the least, I am ready to call it quits, leave her behind as my mother and get as far away as I can before she dies. But the thought of leaving my family behind to do so is nauseating and as I mentioned, I am nine months pregnant, that I can't bear to be so apathetic. I didn't even mention the affect she has had on our 26 year old brother, whom is the only one in our family which seemed to inherit her behavioral shortcomings, but that is another story in itself.
I wish that I could just reach out and say the right thing at exactly the right time and make her see that she has got to recognize these things. I wish I could convince her to get help or just to get out of the house and go for a walk. I wish that I could show her that we aren't fooled by her manner of "Slow suicide" in which she used food and lethargy to kill herself saying "I am ready to go anyway. I can't wait to get away from all of you assholes for good.". Her immediate family is no stranger to suicide attempts and successes, and this seems to be her way of doing it in a way which it wouldn't be her own wish or fault. She want to be able to say that she believes her brother should have known that he has a lot to live for while at the same time killing herself softly, one frozen pizza and angry statement at a time.
I feel as thought this post is really opening up something inside of me that I have never allowed myself to acknowledge. I feel as though I want to tell the whole story. The story of a mother who could never be a mother and how I have learned from it. The story of a daughter who is still baffled by the manner in which people have the ability to treat one another. The way people can say one thing and mean another, or swear that they are upright when they are crawling on the ground. A story which would help me explore what exactly I need to do to get up from that very position... and how to be okay with my mother choosing to stay there the rest of her life. What do I do? Where do I begin?
I know I shouldn't complain about someone whom my vices with include, her complaining, but I need to vent! I need to get this off of my chest somehow. I am not sure what the problem with my mother is, or why she refuses to acknowledge that there is one at all, but it has got to stop! My mother's name is Connie. I am not sure if telling you her name is inappropriate, but I don't want anyone to feel as though I am not aware that she is a genuine human being, with feelings and her own identity. All of my life she has made me suffer a certain inadequacy by referring to me as "You people" or "Kathy Bryant" (which is her late mother's name) instead of using my name or recognizing my individuality as a person which is something that I could not see myself doing to her or anyone. You see, her mother, Kathy, was not as nice to her as she would have liked. She constantly tells us about the ways in which her mother would degrade her, boss her around, make her feel like she was unimportant in regards to herself. She tells me that her mother was selfish and only cared for her own bottom line. She has all of these memories of her mother which have left deep scars in her life, yet, when she speaks to me she doesn't realize that she is leaving the same wounds on her own children. As a matter of fact, she vehemently denies it.
Lately, my mother has reached an all time low. She is worse than she has been in years, refusing to work or even leave the house, but never taking a break from her criticisms and self praise. She is significantly overweight and has been diagnosed with heart disease for some time now, and yet, I see her on a downward physical spiral that seems to parallel her emotional one. My father, who has been her loyal husband for thirty years, is numb at best by her behavior and is definitely on his way out the door. My little sister, who is nearly eighteen this December, rarely leaves the confines of her room which has become the only escape she has... Her only way of not completely losing hope that all people aren't like our mother. My daughter, Paizlee, is nine years old and truly loves her grandma although she too is now becoming aware of the strange manner in which she isn't like other people. She now notices that her grandmother doesn't use proper and normal greetings when she sees someone, or the way she will sit around all day long and argue that her doing the dishes means she did an aerobic activity. And as for me, as for the one whom she accuses of knowing her the least, I am ready to call it quits, leave her behind as my mother and get as far away as I can before she dies. But the thought of leaving my family behind to do so is nauseating and as I mentioned, I am nine months pregnant, that I can't bear to be so apathetic. I didn't even mention the affect she has had on our 26 year old brother, whom is the only one in our family which seemed to inherit her behavioral shortcomings, but that is another story in itself.
I wish that I could just reach out and say the right thing at exactly the right time and make her see that she has got to recognize these things. I wish I could convince her to get help or just to get out of the house and go for a walk. I wish that I could show her that we aren't fooled by her manner of "Slow suicide" in which she used food and lethargy to kill herself saying "I am ready to go anyway. I can't wait to get away from all of you assholes for good.". Her immediate family is no stranger to suicide attempts and successes, and this seems to be her way of doing it in a way which it wouldn't be her own wish or fault. She want to be able to say that she believes her brother should have known that he has a lot to live for while at the same time killing herself softly, one frozen pizza and angry statement at a time.
I feel as thought this post is really opening up something inside of me that I have never allowed myself to acknowledge. I feel as though I want to tell the whole story. The story of a mother who could never be a mother and how I have learned from it. The story of a daughter who is still baffled by the manner in which people have the ability to treat one another. The way people can say one thing and mean another, or swear that they are upright when they are crawling on the ground. A story which would help me explore what exactly I need to do to get up from that very position... and how to be okay with my mother choosing to stay there the rest of her life. What do I do? Where do I begin?
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Confessions of a web site hoarder
Well, I am not sure which site I should have posted this blog on...I have so many. I feel as though I cannot really let any of them go, and yet I still keep signing on to more. I am pretty sure that I will be able to at least use them for one purpose each. I just can't decide what that purpose should be!! Oh well, I am sure that someday I will figure it out. So, if you are here and you want to be there or you are looking for another there, here is a there to check out.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
missing something
I really don't know how I feel these days. I wish I could pinpoint happy or sad. Calm or angsty. I just feel slightly numb.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
There is a societal phenomenon happening
I mean, what happened to guys who like their girlfriends? Does is take someone else to realize that you really do love the one you are with? Have you been the unliked girlfriend? Perhaps the unliked other girl? Hmmm, can't win can we? Ah, but we can!!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Sometimes...
I feel you in my bones. It's like I am alone, but you are still there...arguing with me, tangling your legs up in mine as we watch TV. Why are there any other girls...how could there be? Would your lips kiss mine with the passion you did only once? Would they kiss another's that way? Will you be as you promised...or as everyone else did?
Monday, January 18, 2010
wheeellll....
I knew that I couldn't write on this blog EVERY DAY, but I will be attempting to do better soon! I am not sure if the "labels" section is the same as the google tags?! Hmmmmm
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
In all the fights we have had, at least my boyfriend...
Never called me a c*nt! Which is more than I can say for my friend Jimi. I went over to my friends Christen and Will's house (Is that how you write that?!). Jimi, an old friend, was there too
and we had a really nice dinner. Then, as we were all making sarcastic banter, I threw in a line about people who spend too much on a wedding when they can't really afford it, but in not such a nice way (but I WAS being sarcastic). Well, it didn't really settle well with him and he proceeded to begin hitting me repeatedly below the belt. He mentioned some things that I had no idea he knew about. Things which you should never EVER throw in someones face to cause them harm. I do understand that sometimes when people make jokes someone can strike a wrong chord and anger someone, but this was a little crazy. He even called me the C word. I can't write it up here although I am not a prude...it's just too shocking for even me. My brother used to call me that a lot so I was a bit desensitized to it at the time, but it did infuriate Christen. The night ended with us having cleared it all up...and me accidentally stealing Christen's lighter, but I still can't believe it happened...So, let it be a lesson. If some sarcastic jokester is dishing it out and you dish it back...careful you aren't better at it than him or you'll piss him off so bad that he will call you the C word. That is all.
and we had a really nice dinner. Then, as we were all making sarcastic banter, I threw in a line about people who spend too much on a wedding when they can't really afford it, but in not such a nice way (but I WAS being sarcastic). Well, it didn't really settle well with him and he proceeded to begin hitting me repeatedly below the belt. He mentioned some things that I had no idea he knew about. Things which you should never EVER throw in someones face to cause them harm. I do understand that sometimes when people make jokes someone can strike a wrong chord and anger someone, but this was a little crazy. He even called me the C word. I can't write it up here although I am not a prude...it's just too shocking for even me. My brother used to call me that a lot so I was a bit desensitized to it at the time, but it did infuriate Christen. The night ended with us having cleared it all up...and me accidentally stealing Christen's lighter, but I still can't believe it happened...So, let it be a lesson. If some sarcastic jokester is dishing it out and you dish it back...careful you aren't better at it than him or you'll piss him off so bad that he will call you the C word. That is all.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
A blog with no real direction, and no real start or finish line? Is this a metaphor for my life?
Yeah, I am that one girl. You know, the one with a million great ideas all jumbled together like string all tangled into a ball. I couldn't even begin to start unraveling it, but I am sure that I would gladly tangle a few more into it. I know that lately it has gotten worse. Along with the usual and typical musings of my dreaming mind I am faced with some of those ugly things you people out there like to call "Responsibilities" or my favorite "Stressors". To be a bit more specific, at this time last year I was attempting to think of the best way to save my house from foreclosure... Since then I have proceeded to lose the house, along with two kitty cats, two goldfish (one of whom was fed salmon in a cannibalistic manner by a mystery person ranging in age from 8 to 10 years old, the other jumped out of the tank in a suicidal fit), my job, my boyfriend a couple of times (the same one), and in a final blow... My car succumbed to a one ton tree limb tearing through the top of it. I did manage to lose a few things that I was happy to be rid of, such as my pride, and my ego...but my privacy is something that I miss now being a 28 year old resident of my parent's home. And along with all of this I gained something wonderful and priceless. I gained divine humility. Now, that is a term that I made up so bear with me, I will explain. I am sitting here in the new year with a sense of self and of my own spirit that I never would have had without breaking my way to it. I was forced to reassess my life. To look at myself through the eyes of truth, which can be brutal. I realized that I really do have all of the important stuff still. My daughter, my family and my faith. I even got my boyfriend back (for now). So...Now what do you do? Now that you thought your endings were just, in fact, beginnings? Someone once told me that I needed to find my story...well, I hope to dedicate this next year to just that. I know that I am a couple of days late...and I am sure that I will neglect a few days, but I promise to do my best to untangle one string every day...then knit something with it. I hope that you will all share this with me!
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