I Earned a Parenting Merit Badge I Didn’t Know Existed!

Dinner was served and baths were given. My long day was finally coming to a close.

Until…

My daughter called to me. She told me her little brother had stuck a bead in her ear. What the fuck? I think to myself. I then ask her why the heck she held still long enough for him to do that. “I dunno” was her response.

Now, I’ve dealt with cat food up a toddler’s nose. That was relatively simple. My husband was home so he held her head still while I got it out with a pair of tweezers, but this bead was a completely new ballgame and my husband is away at work. It wasn’t very large, it looked like a pearl with a tiny hole for the string. I used my cellphone light to shine in her ear so I could see and I caught a glimpse of it. It was WAY back there.

I call up my Solemate (yes, solemate), and tell her my situation. She gave me some good ideas. First she asked if I had one of those nose suckers you get from the hospital when you have a baby. Nope, a couple months back I got rid of virtually all of my infant supplies. Then she asked if I had a turkey baster. LOL NOPE, I sure don’t! Okay, then she asked if I had a straw. Bitch, please, I have three kids, you best believe I got bendy straws lol. So she tells me to have my daughter put the beaded ear facing down while I put the straw in her ear and suck…..

Um, excuse me, wha??? But what if the bead goes through the straw and down my throat? That’s freaking motherhood for ya!

Ugh, so I collected myself and did exactly that. Now, my daughter was just in the bath and her ears were pretty clean, but there’s always gonna be some earwax in there. Well, I sucked through the straw, trying like hell to get that bead out, but that little bastard would not pass through the ear canal. It was slightly too big to just roll out and I couldn’t suck long enough or hard enough to get it passed. I’m not a freaking Hoover.

At this point I was getting light headed and tired of earwax making me gag. This was simply not working. The bead was closer now, but there was no room for me to maneuver tweezers around it. However, I could see the tiny hole that the string goes through. So, I grabbed a toothpick and tried to get it through the hole, but it only pushed the damned thing further in!

My friend asks if I have anything sticky, like gum. I look at my husband’s nightstand and see a pack of gum, but it’s freaking empty! Good God man! Then she asks if I have any glue. Haha! I knew I did somewhere, but my husband recently cleaned up the house for my surprise birthday party and now I don’t have a fucking clue where anything is at! Then she asked if I had peanut butter…. Yep, I have that. So I grabbed a Q-tip, put a little dab of peanut butter on there and stuck that in her ear. I’m really glad I went with the peanut butter and not the honey because I think the honey would have made it even worse. The peanut butter didn’t work, by the way, so I went back to the straw.

I’m beginning to become more panicked at this point because I can’t get this little bastard out and I can’t afford the copay for an ER visit (thanks Obamacare) so she offers to  come to my house with the necessary supplies. She lives a good 20-30 minutes away and I didn’t want her to come out if there was another way I could do this. So I told her to hang on, I wanted to call my mother first and if she couldn’t help then I would call her back asking her to bring the calvary lol.

So I call my mom. She, being a mother of five kids and being the second oldest child of eight kids, would probably have the most experience in dealing with something like this. Welp, as much as I love my mom, she wasn’t sure what to do with my lack of items. If I had even one of the items she mentioned then I wouldn’t have had an issue. But life likes to fuck with you sometimes.

I call my friend back and ask her to come over. I also started venting about how I couldn’t find anything. Like how I found my glue sticks for my hot glue gun, but I couldn’t find the damn gun, if I could just find the gun then I could warm up the glue and try using that. Then my friend asks about my glue sticks. I tell her their the hot glue stick for the hot glue gun, not the Elmer’s glue sticks. She then smartly asks why I don’t just warm up the glue sticks with a lighter….?

Good grief. Why, WHY did I not think of that?

So I did just that. I melted a bit of the glue stick with a lighter, take a Q-tip and get just a little dab on there and my daughter starts to lose her shit. She did not want hot glue in her ear (can’t really blame her, that would freak me out too if I didn’t have any context to go along with that) so I calmly explained to her that she would not feel it, I wasn’t pouring the glue in her ear, I just needed a little bit so it would stick to the bead and I could pull it out.

I slowly inserted the Q-tip, she was on the verge of tears until she realized she couldn’t feel the glue, I held it in place for a bit then pulled it out, but was fruitless. I tried again, the glue was still warm, so I held it there longer. I was a little panicked because it pushed the bead back further, but I held it there. Finally, I pulled on it and the bead was coming with it so I kept pulling and out the little fucker came!

I have never been so happy to see a freakin bead! There was a point where I apparently forgot to breathe because I ended up gasping as it came out and I became a little light headed. My friend and I celebrated this victory and I realized I passed a rite of passaged I never knew existed. This is not the kind of shit they teach you about in the hospital or lamaze classes (not that I would know about that because I never went to a lamaze class).

Honestly though, is anyone working on a parenting manual? Somebody should really jump on that because some of us are really struggling here!

People Watching Challenge

One of my favorite blogs, A Momma’s View, recently wrote about People Watching (a hobby I too enjoy) and left a photo at the end challenging her readers to write a story about it. So, here I go:

An English lad was returning home from a small game hunt in the woods. He managed to grab a squirrel and a couple plump rabbits. He was happy as this catch would provide a better meal than the previous night’s, which was barely more than boiled water.

He was barely out of the woods, going over a small hill, when he saw five horses he did not recognize standing outside his home. Fear pumped through his veins as he thought of his mother and two young sisters inside with strange, probably violent, men.

He squat down amongst some foliage to survey the area and try to get a better feel for the situation. Suddenly he heard a scream from within. He had no time to think. He grabbed his skinning knife (which had become dull, but he’d have to make it work) and went around to a small window that he’d more than likely be able to sneak into, unnoticed.

He practically dove through the window and pressed himself against the wall peering around it and seeing only four large, cloaked figures stomping on the ground. His blood boiled and he silently charged, stabbing one in the calf and held the blade to another’s throat. “Back away!” He spat. The man he stabbed was wincing in pain, two were on either side of their fallen friend, staring at the young man, bewildered, he had a knife to the fourth…where was the fifth? “Where is he?” The young man yelled in panic as he darted his head back and fourth desperately searching for the fifth man.

“There is no fifth.” Said the man he held a blade to in a rather bored, yet slightly amused, tone.

“But…I saw..”

“A fifth horse?” Grunted the man he stabbed as he was helped to his feet. “That horse is for you, boy.” He winced as he put weight on his foot. The man looked gruff and angry, but after a moment burst into laughter and soon the other men shared in his amusement. The young man looked around, baffled.

A noise behind him made him turn which allowed the man he had a hold off to slip away and stand with his comrades. He saw his mother entering the room with his sisters following closely. “Mother!” He declared as he ran to embrace her.

“Edward, wha-” she looked at his bloody knife and scanned the room spying the man favoring one leg. “What have you done?” Edward stopped hugging his mother and looked at her, perplexed.

“What do you mean? I’m rescuing youm and my sisters.” The men began laughing again and his mother looked at him endearingly.

“Oh sweet Edward, we were never in danger.” She placed her hands on his face and smiled at him.

“But I heard screaming…” he was thouroughly confused.

“Your sister, Addy, knocked a candle over and the mat caught fire very quickly. I was startled.” Edward contemplated her words then details began to become clearer in his head. Thinking back now he recalled smelling burning straw and that’s probably why he saw the four men stomping on the ground. Fear began to release its hold on him and he turned back to the men. All four began to boom with laughter.

“Sir, I am so sorry about your leg. I thought…. I thought you were here to…to…”

“It’s ok, son. You came in to protect your family. It’s a minor wound, really. It’ll heal quick enough. But that fearlessness and selflessness is exactly why we’re here. You are your father’s son in nearly every way. He was a great and noble knight and I’m sure you’ll be just as great, if not greater, than he.”

“A knight? You want me to be a knight?” Edward was shocked and elated. He turned to his mother and looked at her with both joy and fear.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” She gave her son an assuring nod. “We’ve talked over the details already. You will ride ahead with them. I need to settle a few things here and then your sisters and I will join you in the kingdom.” Edward sighed with relief. His prayers had been answered.

What he thought was going to turn out to be a terrible day had quickly become the best day of his life.

Straining

I sit here, dazed, my thoughts race through my mind faster than the blood pumping through my veins, then they leave. It’s like I’m trying to hold water only I don’t have a bucket, I have a collender. 

Another Sleepless Night Torturing Myself

As I write this it’s nearly 3am and I’ve given up the idea of sleep since I have to be awake in three hours. I’m feeling consumed by my emotions. I see and feel art in nearly everything. I’m simultaneously overjoyed and deeply saddened, both to the point of tears. It’s making me lose hold on reality. 

I need to work tomorrow morning and this weekend I get to look forward to two double shifts. While I need the hours and I am willing and able to work them, double shifts are an emotional breaker. Moreso than a physical one. 

Now, as much as I understand my responsibilities and what’s expected of me, I can’t shake the overwhelming desire to scream like a wild animal, run for the hills, and demolish anyone that gets in my way. 

I’m tired of trying to run away from my life, but I’m also tired of fighting to live when all I want to do is crawl into the earth and never resurface. 

Some days I can’t seem to be able to handle the simplest of tasks like getting out of bed or eating let alone going to work or caring for my family. These last couple of days have been exactly like that. I can’t stand moving or dealing with screaming, needy children or a husband begging for affection. 

The thought of going to work tomorrow and serving customers makes my skin crawl. I’m tired of serving ungrateful people who seem to forget that my coworkers and I are people too. 

I’m so tired of this madness. Literal insanity. Taking hold of me, ripping my being to shreds, yet leaving no outward trace. My composure is too great (thank you military) to let just anyone know of my suffering. 

I know, I know, sounds like a bunch of whining. Maybe it is. I don’t fuckin care. Half of you readers probably stopped reading a while ago. I wish I could say I don’t fuckin care, but I do. I care. I’m well aware of the fact that I don’t shower many deserving blogs with likes and comments, but sometimes it’s hard for me to read about the joy/success of other when I feel like a broken down, beat up loser. 

I am trying so hard to change, I just don’t know how to while I’m in my current frame of mind. 

Scaredy-Mom vs Spider-freaking-zilla 

Today’s Nope of the day features this mutated monstrosity:


I woke up late this morning so I was feeling rather rushed. I had changed my toddler’s diaper, put it in a plastic bag, and asked my daughter to take it to the trash which was at the curb. After a few moments she rushed back in, plastic bag in hand, panting like she just ran down the block. 

“Mom!” She exclaims. “There’s something attached to your car!”

I roll my eyes thinking its a notice from our complex manager saying something about our lawn needing to be trimmed. “What is it?” I ask her. 

“You need to come see for yourself.”

“Honey, just tell me. Is it a piece of paper?”

“No! ….” She pauses as she,apparently relives the horror of what she saw. “It’s a giant spider!!” 

“Shit.” I mumble to myself. My husband is currently on night shift and won’t be home for another hour at this point and I need to get my daughter to school in 20 minutes. I walk outside to see what all the fuss is about, thinking it’s just a wee thing, but it didn’t take me long to discover just how wrong I was. 

 

This beast was huge and it was blocking my escape. Its web was nearly invisible. I couldn’t bring myself to get close enough to see how it was attached and where. I ran back inside and paced my house, trying to think up a game plan. The only thing I could think of was my daughter would be late to school because I wanted nothing to do with that thing. 

As time ticked away, the pressure became heavier and heavier. I didn’t want my daughter to be late and I definitely didn’t want to call her school and have to explain, “Well, you see, ma’am, I can’t bring her to school today because there’s an eight legged assailant hovering over my car.” No matter how I spin it, it’s a tiny beast compared to me and not a legitimate reason for my daughter to miss out on education. 

I muster up all the courage I can manage and march outside to inspect my opponent and figure out my options. I manage to get close enough to see the web and how it’s attached to my car. I now have a plan. 

I gather my kids and carefully get them in the car, then I cautiously creep up to the edge of the web and break some of the threads anchored to my car (btw, the anchors went the entire width of my hood with two anchors attached to the corner of our house). I wanted to break the anchors on my car in the hopes that when I backed out of my driveway, the web would (hopefully) stay intact on the top and the spider would dangle on the side of my house. 

After I broke about three anchors that I could see, the web drooped toward the house, and Spiderzilla was in a tizzy so I bolted to my car and slowly backed out. The web stretched and the damned thing tried to crawl into my car, my fears were coming to fruition, but then the final anchors snapped and the creature was flung into the side of my house. 

I managed to get my daughter to school on time and my kids saw me as a brave hero. It wasn’t until I returned home that I realized I now have a sinister problem; Spiderzilla has disappeared!

I’m sure this story will be continued, but hopefully it will face off against my husband next time. 

What Have I Been Doing?

I have been stunting my own growth. Refusing to let myself evolve because I’ve confused my darkness with my identity. I’ve been trying so hard to hold onto the old me because there’s many parts of my old self that I miss, but that has caused me to keep myself from growing into the better version of me. How did I not realize this sooner? I’m usually so attuned to myself and what’s going on/wrong with my mind, but I never really saw myself doing this. I want to cry right now. 

I want to ask myself so many questions, the number one question being, “What have you done to yourself?”, but doing that won’t solve anything. The question I need to ask now is, “Where do I go from here?” I have no idea, but I need to figure this out.

I’m struggling to find a job. A good job. One that pays well and that I can truly enjoy working at. I like Pizza Hut well enough, I’ve grown close to some of my coworkers and genuinely enjoy their company, but I’m not growing there. I need more.

Friends and family keep telling me about various retail/customer service jobs that I should apply at. The problem is, if I go into another job like that, I will die. Slowly, but surely, I will shrivel up and die. I can’t keep working jobs that I can’t stand. Outside looking in, it seems foolish to pass up opportunities for jobs I could probably have little trouble getting into, but I know I will hate them. I’m done being a cashier or a waitress or retail associate. I’m done with customer service in those kinds of settings. I’m tired of serving ungrateful people. To them, I am not a human being who has my own issues, thoughts, and feelings, I am just a tool for them to use. I only exist to serve them. I can’t do that to myself anymore. I’m holding out for better…..

Yet, despite my numerous applications, nothing has come to fruition. I’ve been working my ass off. Something’s gotta give…right?

Painful Inspiration

What is my Muse? While I wish I could say “my family” or “God” or some other happy thing, sadly, in my case, pleasant things are not inspiration to me. My Muse is the pain I carry with me everyday. The pain you don’t see behind my mask (especially if I don’t want you to see it). 

If you were to strike up a conversation with me, it’s almost guaranteed you would have no clue as to the suffering I experience. My mind and soul are breaking, but my composure is very strong. Maybe I’m punishing myself, but for whatever reason most people have no idea how truly sad and miserable I am. 

This is something I’ve felt almost my entire life. Almost everything I create is because of the pain I have. I wish it were different. I wish I could just be happy and write happiness, but sometimes it’s more than a will to change or a decision to be happy. Sometimes it’s a parasite latched on to you and this parasite does not want to be found; so it won’t be. 

I share my darkness more than I probably should, but the reasons I do that are so I don’t completely lose my shit (think pressure release valve), I can process/work through/cope with what’s going on, and so someone out there who feels alone in their suffering might happen upon my words and not feel so alone anymore.

And maybe so I don’t feel so alone anymore.