It's been just a little while...

Wow, my last post was over two years ago! I've been thinking a lot about my blahg, why I don't write on here more often and if I do decide to write again, should I start over with a shiny new blog, or stick with what's familiar? So I will just revamp, renew and freshen up my poor 'lil neglected blahg. Though I do have to say my life is a little more calmed down than the sexed up stories of my past, though my life is still not boring. A little annoying at times, but never boring. So this is my comeback to the blogosphere, albeit a not very exciting one, as I sit at work typing this out and mapping out what my real come back blog will be. Guess I shouldn't think too hard on it, then it might take me another 2 years! Oh Horrorland, how I've missed thee.

Adventures in la la land

As per my previous post, I've been very busy. There is no slowing down in sight. I did, however, take the day off today. I'm typically off work Saturday's though I go to school from 9-3:30. I love school, but I've been extremely overwhelmed and well, pregnant lately, thus the day off. Part doctors orders, part brain explosion, I have a enjoyed a very relaxing, very quiet day at home today.

These last two weeks I've worked over 90 hours, plus school, plus taking care of the kiddos, plus being six and a half months pregnant make Mal a very dull girl. Last Sunday I was supposed to go to my friend's house for a bbq but I was extremely tired from being me, so I opted for the movies instead. I am very bored with life right now. Not to be confused with bored in general, as I'm busier than a whore on dollar night, just bored with life. I'm so busy I don't have time to see my friends, nor do I really want to make the effort because I'm so tired after my busy days and want nothing more than to throw on my pajamas and watch yet more Law & Order. The latter always wins out. Breathe is not the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

I'm so greateful for my current life, don't get me wrong, but I am most definitely grateful for this free day. I'm actually getting a chance to blog! Even though my blogging "skills" lately have been a little rough around the edges. Back in the day, I had each blog prewritten in my head before sitting down in front of my computer. Now, it takes me roughly an hour or so to write out one very short paragraph. I blame the baby for my current state of brain. I can barely keep my clients straight, much less think about the things I want to blog about throughout my day.

Absentminded IS the right word. I don't even really know what I'm talking about right now. This baby better be a genius. Well, off to do some more lounging around on the couch looking like a beached whale.

I'm late, I'm late, for a very important...life!

My life has been hectic, to say the least. Along with this pregnancy sucking the life out of me as aliens do, I'm running on the fumes of fumes. I work full-time, over 40 hours a week and go to school on one of my days off. Why would I do this to myself? Well, I may be a little crazy. Or Ambitious, however you want to look at it. Since my impregnation, my life got thrown into hyperdrive. The impending doom of having to get a new car and house for my ever expanding, amazon family, as previously stated in my last blahg, lit a fire under my ass, so to speak. Which with the gross pregnancy symptom of gas looming around every corner, that may not be the best idea.

But I digress. My schedule has thrown me into a state of constant weariness. I love my work, however, after even just 3 hours in a row on my feet, my body pretty much hates me and trys to betray me by sending shooting pains through my hips and back and my puppies start barking like a dog to a mailman. And school? I enjoy it immensely. It's fun, interesting and challenging, which is right up my alley, though it does take away from one of my days off, but surprisingly enough, I don't feel as tired as I do after a day at work.

While I'm not at work, I still have sarcastic, rebellious children to contend with and a boyfriend who would like me to actually put my clothes away...who does that? Oh, everybody? Well, I like to think of myself as different. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Putting my clothes away is a tedious extra chore which I would like to avoid like the plague. A chore which I do succesfully avoid like the plague. I don't want to spend my one day off doing something boring. I'd rather lay on the couch and watch endless hours of Law & Order: SVU, thanks to Netflix.

On top of all that, it is currently wedding season. So that keeps me busy making veils and other such hair baubles for one of the most important days in a woman's life. This however, I do not hate. I really love the process of sewing and beading and playing with feathers, oh my! If I could get paid, and get paid well, just to do that? I would. In a heartbeat! But alas, this is not my life. I cut and color and perm and will hopefully some day real soon will assist dentists drilling away in people's dirty, dirty mouths. It's a lot of fun! But hard and scary all at the same time. Making veils and hair baubles is relaxing for me. Plus I get to sit on my couch and watch copious amounts of Hoarding and Law & Order:SVU while dilligently applying crystals to Russian tulle. Can you tell I'm obsessed with Law & Order just a bit?


Pregnancy aside, I'm pretty sure I'd be able to handle all of this were I able to still work out and drink lots of coffee as was done pre bun being placed in my oven. I don't work out because my body seems to not want to cooperate and keep me in a constant state of pain. I am of the belief this little guy is going to be a genius as well as rambunctious. Genius? I'm surprised I remember my name. I believe he is taking all my smarts. So I'm tired and dumb. So what, right? It'll all be worth it in the end, and this kid better be an Einstein or else.

That is my life as of late. I don't see my friends as often as I'd like, if ever because when I'm not at school or work, I like to sit on my growing ass and stare at the tv with drool dripping down my chin. Ah well, love it or hate it, it's mine, all mine and I am making it work, even if I am half asleep through most of it.

The (mis)adventures of motherhood

My kids are amazons. I'll just throw that out there. They keep getting bigger and bigger every day and I just can't keep up. The genius now stands at a whopping 5'11" at the ripe young age of 13, wearing a size twelve shoe. The princess stands at 5' tall, wears a women's size 7 shoe and has bigger boobs than most 16 year olds...she's 9.

The poor genius is walking around with near high waters because we can't keep up with his growth spurts. Not to mention the fact that man pants are more expensive than little boy pants. Little princess is starting to complain about the boys at her school staring at her boobs. I told her to get used to it, as she is already taking after yours truly, what with my size DDD bust. I feel her pain. It's hard to explain to her the many facets of puberty. I don't remember ever getting that "talk" from my mom, so how am I supposed to explain things to my daughter? And the genius spends a little too much time in the shower. I want to believe he really does just want to be real clean, but J thinks he's actually having a spankin' good time. Since he was once an overactive teenage boy once upon a time, he must know these things. Things I'd rather not think about. Ick.

So it seems I will soon be dealing with another penis. We have found out that we are having a boy. The princess is happy, but not, as she will now be the only girl of five boys between my sister and I. However, I informed her, she will hold her reigning title as most spoiled girl in the family. To which she replied, "MOM, I don't like being spoiled! Memo and Nana buy me too many clothes." Yeah, sure, who doesn't like being spoiled. I know I sure as hell do. She also claims she is no longer a child. "MOM, I don't play with dolls anymore. I'm NOT a child." Oh, my mistake. I was under the impression 12 was the official cut off for the child label. Another of her gems to prove she is not a child? The constitution last night that she WOULD be America's Next Top Model when she turns 18, after which she goes on to tell me two girls at the renaissance fair stared at her and told her she was "so pretty." Her head may be a little big.

As fun as the kiddos are, it's nice to get a little break from them every weekend when they go to their dad's house. I am definitley enjoying that time now before the baby comes since I won't be able to just send this one to his dad's. It's karma for me teasing my sister that she never gets alone time because she refuses to divorce her husband. Karmic retribution. Now, however, their father just informed me that he may take on a job as a truck driver. Uh oh. Full time parenting. It's been years since I've had them the full week. And then there were three. Needless to say, life is about to get a lot more interesting over at my house. Thank goodness for J though. Since I've been prego my energy level has dropped immensely. When they say you get energy in the 2nd trimester, I am not part of that 'you'. He cleans the kitchen every day, sweeps, feeds the animals and checks homework. All while I watch from the comfort of the couch with half closed eyes. I'm not mad about it.

One thing's for sure, I need to get a bigger house and a bigger car. The kids, especially the genius, no longer fit comfortably in my CR-V. I may have to break down and buy a mini-van. Kids do get more expensive the older they get. And baby makes 3.

Adventures in pregoland

It’s official. I’m pregnant. With child. Bun in the oven. Knocked up. Almost 10 years later, on July 6, 2011, I will return to my misadventures in child rearing.

I never thought I’d be having another baby at this stage in my life. Having never wanted any kids, I shelved my dreams of running off to California to follow in Jack Kerouac’s footsteps to live my life on the beach, writing poetry and stories of my adventures, and instead embraced my new life as a mom. I raised, I reared, I disciplined. I have not yet conquered.

Eight years to go until freedom.

That is no longer the case. I guess that’s what happens when you have unprotected sex with your live-in boyfriend. You’d think I would have learned my lesson from the first two.

In all seriousness though, I am pretty excited about the baby. This time it’s different and I’m ready. With my son, I was 17, in my senior year and not the least bit ready. So naturally, I hid the pregnancy for about four months, at which time my mom saw my changing body and confronted me because ‘every mother knows’. I then had to deal with the stressors of being just another pregnant teenage Mexican, something which I’d worked very hard to avoid. Apparently not hard enough. No Mtv’s “16 and Pregnant” offering me money to tell my story. Nope, it was more like my orchestra teacher trying to keep me from performing so as not to influence the kids who looked up to me to get knocked up. I had a pink mohawk…I doubt I was much looked up to at the time. Not to mention the fact that the purveyors of my high school were already having unprotected sex and abortions long before I joined the ranks of the sexually active.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was in the midst of my roaring 21st year where I’m pretty sure I was drunk more often than I was sober. My ex and I were separated at the time and merely started sleeping together when his mom died of lung cancer. It was a very melancholy period and I decided that some vodka was in order…and apparently some sex. Note to self: it’s never a good idea to console someone with your vagina. It opens up a huge can of worms that’s better left tightly sealed. But alas, the universe had other plans for me. I was in a state of denial. I did not want to be pregnant. I was having way too much fun spreading my wings, so to speak. I mean, I had just gotten so good at drinking, no boy could drink me under the table. I was a champ at beer bongs and beer pong and waterfalls, oh my! I was dating, well, dating for a constantly drunken 21 year old girl whose favorite pastime was to prowl college parties for hot, young collegiate. The very last thing I wanted was another baby. Especially after my best friend gave birth to her baby four months before my due date brought back the memories of my previously painful and traumatizing birthing experience. Shortly after though, I said ‘see you later’ to my party ways and got ready for baby number two.

I am now a very strong believer in the everything happens for a reason school of thought.

This time, though it was, surprise, not a planned pregnancy, I’m at peace with the fact that I will now have three mini-me’s. I didn’t have to hide it from anyone. My party ways have long since left me since I no longer have the energy to get all gussied up for a night on the town, or rather, a night full of beer and instead traded it for nights in watching zombie movies with Jason and my pipe. So I don’t really feel like I’m missing anything, though I’m sure my friends are probably having way more fun than I am. I doubt that they are having as many crazy adventures as I am though. My life is never boring, that’s for damn sure. What with a 13 year old boy with out of control hormones and bouts of emo-ness and a 9 year old girl who thinks she’s in her 20’s and is learning how to skate board, breaking her first bone recently. An ex-husband who’s, well, a hand full. My mother living in my back yard and a sister who lives two houses away from me which grants me a bevy of teenage boys running in and out of my house and a cat who seems as though she is constantly in heat and who I’m pretty sure is trying to kill me. Yup, I’d say my life is never boring, as much as I would sometimes like it to be. So I feel as though I’m ready for this. Upon hearing the news Jason immediately started wondering if we would be able to ‘do this’. “Yes,” I replied, “It’s just a baby. No big deal, I’ve done this before.” With that being said, I will admit that I am a little scared. It has, after all, been almost 10 years since I’ve had a baby. Contrary to popular belief, it is not like riding a bicycle.

So I happily lay my fat, pregnant ass on the couch all day when I’m not working watching movies and eating food I know I shouldn’t be eating even though I crave it constantly. I’m pretty sure the baby will come out looking like a cheeseburger. I’m keeping a list of names I like and cleaning the house constantly when I have tiny bouts of energy that are few and far between. I’ll tell you what, being pregnant at 17 and 21 is a huge difference to being pregnant at 31. I’m older, more tired, more surly and have more aches and pains than my 66 year old mom. Plus, I don’t think I can handle bigger boobs. What’s the size after DD? Because that’s where I’m headed, and that is never a place I wanted to be. Ah, such is life.

Everything really does happen for a reason. And then there were 3.

Adventures of a once dark and cynical mistress

I've been real happy lately. So basically, I find that writing is a little harder for me now. Being that I drew on my dark, cynical and depressed nature for material which made it, in my opinion, witty, funny and dryly sardonic. That and the fact that I no longer drink, there are no more adventures in which I get shit housed, wake up next to a guy I barely know and therefor have some writing material, what with my gruesome feelings of loneliness and depravity. What have I turned into?!

I'm actually glad that things are going so well, though, regardless of my need for self loathing for writings sake. I just don't find my happy life as funny or interesting. I work, I go home, I hang out with the boyfriend, take care of the kids, get high, pass out, lather, rinse and repeat. It's weird, I went for so long being angry and hating life, and not because of my failed relationships and one night stands, though I do miss those...the one night stands, that is, NOT the failed relationships as I consider those the stepping stones to the awesome that I have since become. The excitement of meeting a new guy, dirty making out at the bar, dry humping in the parking lot, leaving a note thanking him for the hot sex and slipping out into the wee hours of the morning while he slumbers. Ah, good times. Now I feel the excitement when my boo sparingly decides he wants his D in my G. Oh how the times have changed.

In all seriousness, things are going well. After his stint in rehab and a couple of months readjusting to sober life, he seems to be standing up straight, so to speak, working and learning how to have fun without the aid of drugs or alcohol. I, on the other hand, still smoke to my heart's content. I can't help it, I don't sleep otherwise. And I just like getting high, guess I can't really church it up. I should probably put the pipe down for a while soon though, I feel my blonde roots showing through more and more even though I only smoke at night. My stoner retardedness has gotten the best of me lately. Also maybe a reason for the drop in blahging...I'm not up all night, feeble from insomnia and pissed off at the world for the lack of good late night television. Go figure. But I digress.

So the kids are doing real well. So well, in fact that my 13 year old sometimes emo, sometimes obnoxious giant of a kid has been invited and accepted into the National Junior Honor's society and has decided to enroll in a highly academic charter school for his duration of high school. The princess has been doing quite well for herself as well. While she rocks a faux hawk with confidence, as a result of a pesky and persistent lice problem, she's getting straight A's. Although it is quite easy to make straight A's in the 4th grade, she's doing so well her teacher gave her an A in writing, which she informed me she never does, and told me that she is basically a perfect student. Which made me wonder if she had the right kid. She's also playing the violin, which makes me so happy because I played it for many, many years.

Note to all the bitches whom have judged this book by it's cover: HA! My kids are awesome and well rounded and doing great in life in general. So suck on that.

The only thing that's missing is enough money to fully pay my own bills so I don't have to depend on the maternal unit so much. Though I see that light at the end of the tunnel as I've been busier at work and J has starting working a little more full time lately. So yay for that.

So my dark thoughts have been pushed back to the depths of my huge brain while happy thoughts fill the forefront and infect the rest of my mind with flowers and rainbows and puppies, oh my! I need to find a balance between darkness and happy. We'll see how that goes.

Now I must sit my happy ass at work for another 3 hours, after which J will take me shopping for a new hoody (i love hoodies more than shoes) and take me to a nice dinner. See?! Happy. Ugh.

xoxo

A search for...something

Oftentimes I wonder why I haven’t found myself yet. 31 and I feel like I am finally coming into my own, but how am I to know really. And the fact that I have to question whether or not I've found myself, whatever that means, also shows that I may have not found myself.

In my current relationship though, I feel more at ease and have easily fallen into the wife-mother-woman paradox, more or less, though the wife part is technically girlfriend but I feel as if I've now been married for 10 years! My first relationship was all first everything's so there wasn't much time to figure anything out. The second relationship was, well, I don't really know what that was. It was me on the rebound searching for someone to love me with stars in my eyes and blinders to cheaters on. Words falling out of an untruthful mouth upon trusting ears. That's what that was. This one, well this one has been a flurry of partying, hangovers, drugs and sobering up. So now is the good part where we can actually relax and just be in the relationship, so to speak. Basically, I couldn't be happier at the moment.

There is still something tugging at the back of my mind though. The loss of my self in all this mothering, girlfriending, managing shit.

Through all this "who am I" shit, I’ve figured out what my problem is. At the peak of my teenage-hood I was impregnated. It was the second semester of my senior year as I was really coming into my own. I graduated, 7 months pregnant, got married to my high school sweetheart and had my son. Three and a half years later, in the midst of our seperation, I became with child again.

Note to self: never console an ex over a dead relative with your vagina.

9 months later, my daughter was born. I was 22. Having just started on a sexual quest I was abrubtly shoved back into the screaming world of motherhood. Or at least more so than I was before. Strapped down with two kids and a husband, how is one to find what you want to be? You're hard to find amongst cries of “Mommy, I’m hungry!”, “Mommy wipe my ass!”, “Mommy, I want, I want, I want!” what’s a mother to do, but delve into the role the universe so obviously wanted me to star in and try, hard as it may be, to embrace it. Thirteen years later, as I write this, I still wonder, “Who am I?"

Although given that my youngest is almost in her double digits, age wise, I do believe that in 9, hopeully, short years I will be left to my own devices and my lifelong search for self as the kiddos embark on their own adventures in horrorland on a quest to find themselves.

All I can say is, I’m as lost as the rest of you, but I'm happy, so that counts for something, right? Right?