Showing posts from 2009

Game On.

You start to put your life back together. You come back from this incredible darkness, so dark that the light on the other side actually looks appealing. But you don't go towards it. You have responsibilities here, a tiny life that is depending on you and only you. So you pull yourself up. You go from being unemployed to working full time, all the while taking care of this tiny life. You find yourself incredibly lucky with this job, blessed, because they realize that family is important. And you carve a niche for yourself in this company, where they realize what you have to contribute. Probably more than most other people in your life, they realize your potential, your value, and do what they can to help it blossom, all the while allowing you to balance this new life you have. Pretty soon the darkness starts to fade. You start to discover who you are. Not the person you were pretending to be for the majority of your adult life, but the real you. Not long after you real…

Late Night Ramblings

Ahhhh. The life of a single mother.
Currently I'm forcing myself awake because I have a toddler who can't stop vomiting. And by vomit I mean dry heave, because she successfully expelled all the contents of her stomach in the first go round in an impressive impersonation of a shotgun. So now its just the most pathetic and sad attempt at what I can only describe as what a cat looks like trying to dislodge a hair ball every ten minutes or so.
Can I just side bar for a second and say that never ever ever in my life did I ever think it would be useful that my 2 year old can spit on command? I'm not sure where she got it from, and to be honest I wasn't enTIREly thrilled about the idea when she first started to do it. But now? WOW am I glad that I can tell her to spit into the bowl or the toilet and SHE DOES IT. And when she feels the urge to 'spit', she lets me know by pointing to the bowl with one sad little chubby hand and holding her mouth closed with the oth…

Mark This Date...I'm Using Restraint.

So I don't do political posting, right? No really, I don't. Which is why all I'm going to say is this.
To all you douche bag politicians out there who think that the REPUBLICANS organized the town hall meetings that all went horribly wrong (in your eyes), guess what? If we had THAT kind of power, you really think your guy would have made it into office?
And I'm done. Thank you, and goodnight.
See? Restraint!

Email Marathon

***WARNING*** This is going to be a long post. I suggest you go get a beverage. Maybe a snack. And a Xanax. And bring me one.
Being a single mother is hands down the most difficult task ever. You go through things that you could never prepare yourself for in ways that you could never imagine. And that's just you and the kid. Throw a bitter ex husband in the mix and well, the fun never ends. And by fun I mean the overwhelming urge to have the taste of metal from the end of a shot gun in your mouth.
One of the tricks of the single mother trade, unless you're well off, which I am not so much, is juggling finances to make ends meet. I mean, is it the car payment or dinner? Phone or running water? So while the bills get paid, every now and again a situation arises where it may not necessarily be on time. Which brings me to the beginning of this story.
Last month my sister got married. In a location that is 900 miles away from where I currently live. At the first part of…

Maternity Test

So about three years ago (OMFG), I was pregnant. I know this because pregnancy leaves me with PTSD. I hate it. Its horrifying. But that's me. Anyway, after this pregnancy thing, I gave birth to a baby. A tiny little beautiful miracle of wonder that almost, ALMOST, made up for the whole pregnancy thing. Somewhere between then and now, I'm pretty sure my kid got swapped out.
When I was younger, I had this irrational fear of costumed folk. I don't mean like around Halloween. Or even clowns. I mean those people whose job it is to don a monkey suit and jump around like idiots to the merriment to most other kiddos. The two specific instances I can remember is at Show Biz (which is what Chuck E Cheese used to be) and at a place in Denver called....oh crap...mmmm....OH! Casa Bonita (yeah I googled Denver Mexican places. what.). Both of these places had gorillas that mingled amongst the folk. Granted, they were people in costumes as gorillas, but whatever. In my head,…


In order for this story to reach its full potential in hilarity, there are a couple of little tid-bits of information you need to know first.
So I got the Palm Pre, right? And I'm still learning my way through all the intricacies of this new AWESOMEness. That's the first thing you need to know.
Second, in my phone, my ex is labelled as The Ass. I do this for a couple of reasons. One, seeing his name makes my butt pucker, so changing it to The Ass makes me happy, even if for a few seconds prior to reading whatever random word vomit he's decided to spew on me at that moment. And two, because I have a couple of people in my phone who have the name 'James', this keeps him from being lumped in with people I like.
Ok. So. Today I had to take the monkey to the doctor for an ear infection. And being the award winning mother of the year I am, I figured I should probably let the sperm donor know about it. Plus the divorce decree makes me, but that's this whole othe…

Horrifying and Awesome

It's like when you see a car accident, and you don't want to look, even slightly ridiculing others that do, but you still can't look away.
Like that, but better.  And worse.  

Click that.  I swear to you it will be worth it.  And click more than once.  Don't be shy.  
I'm totally not judging you right now.  I promise.

Mother's Day

It's 3:25 in the morning, and I can't sleep.
I can't sleep because for me this is just another Sunday.  I don't get to sleep late.  I don't get to awaken to the smell of breakfast in bed.  I don't get to be handed a bouquet of flowers.  I don't get to hear the words Happy Mother's Day in my daughter's voice at the coaching of my significant other.  I don't get to thank my daughter for the crayon creation on construction paper she diligently worked over to celebrate my being a mother to her.  I don't get hugs from family members and loved ones.  Those are things that, as a mother, on Mother's Day, I have never experienced.
I know, this post sounds awesome, huh?  Well hold on a second, it gets better.
I want to wish each and every single one of you who has ever played the role of mother a very Happy Mother's Day.  I really and truly do.  It's a shame that only one day is dedicated to the trials and tribulations that go into being a mo…


I can now blog from my phone. As long as its 160 characters or less. So its kind of like Twitter. But with more characters.
This is what 160 looks like.....

Weird Dreams

I haven't been sleeping very well lately. I'm not 100% sure why, and to be honest, I don't really care. All I want is to be able to lay down, actually fall asleep, and stay that way. Last night was pretty rough, probably the worst I've had.

I wasn't able to actually get into bed until around 1am thanks to work. And when I did finally crawl under the covers, I couldn't fall asleep. When I was finally able to do that, I woke up every thirty minutes. Not joking. And within those thirty minutes, I was having dreams. Not the same dream. Different dreams. All with different ex-boyfriends. Weird huh? I'm not going to even attempt to analyze that.

I had a weird dream yesterday as well, but I can't remember what it was about. Have you ever woken up, remembered a dream as vividly as it was still happening, but the longer you think about the dream, the less you remember? What kind of crap is that? I mean, it came from your mind, did it not? So why c…

Because when I think Holst, I think Peanut Butter cups.

So there's this commercial that always catches my eye, which is kind of spectacular on its own because I don't watch commercials, that's what I pay extra for a DVR for thank you very much.  Anyway, it's a Reese's Peanut Butter cup commercial, and even if I'm not watching the TV, as soon as I hear the music, I always stop what I'm doing to turn around and watch it.  And not because its exciting.  Because it is absolutely not.  Without the music, its probably the most boring commercial in the history of man.  But the music.  It's Gustav Holst's The Planets, specifically Jupiter.  And I love it.  All the movements, not just Jupiter, but especially Jupiter because the sheet music sat in my high school band folder for I'm pretty sure all four years of high school.  I'm really not sure why, we never actually played it for anything, but there it was.  Probably because its a hard piece, and to play it half ass would not be doing anybody any favors. …

My Heart Hurts

There really are no words.
Tonight I'm going to hold the Monkey a lot tighter though.

Kiss it, I'm Irish

Has it been long enough for ya? Anyone still out there? This thing still on?

I'm blaming facebook. No seriously. Since I can constantly update my status there, by the time I get home in the evenings, or whatever, not so interested in recapping. You wanna know? Go check me out on facebook. Mandy Bell.

But seriously, I do want to get back into writing here. It was a good outlet, I had fun, and I definitely want to capture some of the memories of The Smoodge down so that later in life I can say, See? This is why Mommy drinks.

The problem in the last month or so has been the fact that my immune system is trying to take me down. And for real this time. I've had colds, allergies, gastroenteritis, kidney stones, and now? Today's current affliction? I'm pretty sure I'm getting a kidney infection. How awesome is that? I had one good day. ONE. Then back to the sick mill again. I don't know who I've pissed off upstairs, but seriously? I'm SORRY. A LOT. Could we just …

Making My Death Bed

I haven't blogged in awhile.  I know.  You'll get over it.
Most of that has to do with all the craziness that has been going on in and around my life right now, and my complete inability to speak on it as honestly as I want to and my anger at the limitation of that.  From the birth of my younger sister's baby boy, to the complete lack of...I don't even know what...from my middle sister, to the garbage spewed forth from a man in my life (and no, it's NOT the ex), to the fact that I'm pretty sure my immune system has quit.  Which is good, because I fired it today and am now accepting applications for a new one.  One that doesn't have allergies, a consistent body ache, 101+ degree temperature, and the ability to cause me to sneeze so hard I have to make sure I didn't pee my pants.  I know.  Kegels.  I do 'em.  Doesn't matter.  Fuck you very much to all the catheters I've had in my life.
See how overwhelming all that is?  Throw in the amount of pr…


No, not THAT VD. Valentine's Day. Duh. THAT VD would involve me getting some, which I am currently not. So it's both a blessing, and a curse.

I could go on and on about the blah that is Valentine's day, but that's boring, and besides, I can bitch about how single I am any day of the year. So I'll mix it up a bit and NOT do a post that will make you want to grab your nearest straight edge and start fraying the edges of whatever artery for you is closest to the surface of your skin.

So instead, today The Smoodge and I are chillin' like villains in bed. All day probably. Mostly because she's running 101+ temp. How fun is that? We're currently rockin' the 'Love is a Battlefield' theme on USA. First, Notting Hill. Which has led me to believe that I will never be truly happy in life unless I marry a Brit. Second up, Along Came Polly. That's where we are currently. I don't even really like this flick, but there is not really a whole lot else …


You can make one here.  And don't worry, it requires no thought process whatsoever, just a copy and paste and you're good to go.  So if you're lazy like me (after all, I'm posting the work of a computer in someones basement as opposed to actually blogging about something), do not fret, this web site's for YOU!



Cheater, Cheater

Totally cheating because this floated to me on facebook, but since I haven't posted anything in awhile....
Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.
(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.

1. I always use two towels when I shower. Always. And each one has it's own specific drying area. And never the two shall meet.

2. I have a cat named Natra and a dog named April. Natra is named after Sinatra, because he has blue eyes (he's a Siamese snow shoe). April lives with my mom 1000 miles away. Hopefully she'll get to come live with me this year.

3. I married my soul mate only to hav…

It's cute how you think I'm listening.

It's late, and once again I'm working into the wee hours. I can't think for the life of me what to blog about.

Not true. I have several topics, but all of which require extensive brain usage, none of which I currently have. I could list them for you, but that would be boring. And really it would only serve as a reminder for me to try and write about tomorrow.

Wellll, since you talked me into it...

1. People who talk to me like they are my boss, but are most definitely not.
2. Fun with Sprint
3. SPAZMATICS TOMORROW NIGHT (wow, that one took a lot of energy. you didn't catch that from the all caps?)
4. The poo contest the cat and the kid are having (how would you measure that? an odormometer? is that a word? its at least close to a word...right?)
5. That feeling when I feel like the creepy crawlies on my neck are trying to rip my spine through my pores.

Ok, very sleepy now. Eyes closing, fingers fumbling on the keyboard, and I can actually hear myself snoring..........zzzzzzzzzz…

I like you uglies, but don't talk to me.

It's late.  And I'm exhausted.  Watching two episodes of American Idol in a row will do that to you.  Especially when your trachea (pronounced Tray She Ah) gets irricatated by your rectums.  And no, I haven't lost it.  Those were actual words used by a contestant on yesterday's San Francisco AI, which I just watched tonight.  And no, I'm not providing a link.  I can't find it.  But it was hilarious.
I can't decide if I want to take a shower tonight or in the morning.  Oh, the pressure of it all.
Do you ever feel like the dirty dishes breed?  I mean, I did dishes today around 3:30pm, and now I've got a sink full of dirty ones.  What the hell.
I think I'm gonna take that shower.  I'm cold, and it'll help warm me up before I jump into bed.  Or not, I dunno.  Did I mention I'm exhausted?
This HAS to be the dumbest post EVER.

I've been naughty. So what?

Ok. So I just realized that the inauguration this morning was at 11 am. Oh no, I watched it, I'm not having this realization because I missed it. I'm having the realization that it was at 11 am. Which is what time the Young and the Restless comes on. And I'm betting that CBS covered it, because why wouldn't they be like the rest of the sheep in this country who was glued into the coverage (and yes, I totally was too. But only because I thought my shows would be safely recording at home on the DVR. Don't ask me to explain my logic to you. It will only leave both of us confused, me angry, and you with a bruise on your head from where the stapler I threw hit it). Why wouldn't they dare to be different, to REALIZE CHANGE? Ugh. Now I have to wait until tomorrow to find out what happens to Amber and Katherine and all my other friends.

I know. I'm sad.

YES I watched the inauguration today. I kind of led a revolt at work in order to watch it. Let me es&…

Your ugliness cheers me up.

The week before I took off from Christmas (I remember specifically, it was that Monday), I went to lunch with a co-worker.  We went to this place that's fairly new, and when we got there, questioned whether or not it was open.  I noticed a waiter type standing by the bar, peeked in, and asked if the joint was available.  He indicated it was, and said we could sit wherever.  Duh.  The place was empty.  I saw tumbleweeds.  So we picked out a table, and Mr. Waiter came over to introduce himself and get our drink orders.  He was good looking, and said his name was Brent.  I work with a Brent, and being the friendly type I am, I said as such, and instigated a conversation.  There was brief flirting.  Lunch moved forward, we ordered, whatever.  I can't remember a lot of the specific details because I have slept since then, but at some point he came and sat down next to us and chatted for a bit.  As we got our receipts back, I made some joke about leaving my number on the back for hi…

You're icky and that's sad.

I don't normally do any sort of political posting.  I simply don't have time to brush up on stuff like I used to pre-toddler.  Point is, if you read past this paragraph, and you get pissed off, don't say you weren't warned. 
This coming Tuesday is going to be a big day in the history of this great country.  And regardless of how you voted, you can't help but admit that it's exciting times.  For once, in our life times, we get to be a part of a huge moment that didn't involve the death of millions of people.  Or of Brad and Angelina adopting another shade of kid.
That being said, Barack Obama is just a man.  Regardless of the color of his skin, he is not going to cure the economy, he is not going to stop the fighting, he is not going to banish unemployment, and he is not going to house the homeless.  Sure, he may take steps towards that, but realistically, until he is in office for more than just one term, those steps won't even begin to matter.  The econo…

Shave and a Haircut...Twoooooo Biiiiiiiits

Except no shave.
I took The Smoodge to Sharkey's today for a hair cut.  She's been sticking her hair in her mouth and chewing on it, then ripping it out of her mouth while still clamped between her teeth.  Which makes this hair ripping sound that is not too far from nails on a chalkboard.  Which in turn makes me want to jab a paperclip through my retina.  It also means that at the end of the day the sides of her hair resemble the texture of the hair in this picture.  
I'm entirely too scared to cut her hair myself.  When I was little, my mom took me to a place to get my hair cut, and instead they cut into the bottom of my right ear lobe.  I still have the scar.  And am still severely traumatized.  So when I think about cutting The Smoodge's hair, I have all these horrible visions of her coughing and jamming the sharp end of the scissors up her nose, or through her temple.  Try explaining THAT one to CPS.  I have cut her bangs a couple of times, but that's usually som…

Good or Bad?

I'm not sure which of those categories this day falls into.  Or this week really.  It's just been one of those...?
Monday was the day the (son of a bitch) ex took The Smoodge and didn't bring her back like he was supposed to.  That was bad.  I filed a report with SAPD.  That was eh.  I was told by SAPD to have New Braunfels PD escort me to his residence to pick her up.  That was hopeful.  NBPD says they don't do that...for anyone.  Seriously, like they needed to clarify.  Which tells me that they DO do it, just not when it involves a member of their own.  That was bad.  Then the officer, Frank Moreno (oh yeah, I'm gonna call you out), tells me that while NBPD doesn't do that (for anyone), the Constable does, and would I mind waiting a few minutes for one to call me?  That was promising.  The constable calls, and they don't do that without a judges order.  Which is confusing, because I thought that's what the divorce decree was.  Apparently not.  Even tho…


I'm tired.  I was going to be in bed an hour ago, but I have this awesome allergy trick where I feel like I'm trying to swallow a rock.  Not that I've ever tried to swallow a rock, but if I did, I can imagine this is what it would feel like.  Anyone caring to try that rock swallowing thing, let me know, we'll compare notes.  Anyway, the rock swallowing thing is keeping me from sleeping.
I went to Houston today.  That's, like, 3 hours away.  Drove there, went to a meeting, had lunch, drove back.  At least it was with a good looking Brit.  Who is funny.  So that helps.
The end.

You can talk to me, but where will we put the barf?

Second time using my little calendar for a title, and I have to say this one is my favorite thus far :)

Just found out that I'm going to Houston tomorrow. Whoo. Freakin'. Hoo. Leaving SA at 8:15am, to drive to an 11am meeting with the stinkin' union, then turn back around and be home by 5pm. How much fun is THAT going to be? Seriously. At least I'm not doing it alone, I'm actually riding down there with the VP of the company, and he's a pretty entertaining dude. And he's British, so even just talking to him is interesting. Yeah. That won't get old at all after 6 hours in a car. Nope. Not even a little bit.

The ex took The Smoodge this morning and is insisting he's keeping her tonight. He knows about her therapy. I'm really not sure what I'll do if he doesn't bring her back. I have several options, the most fun being the fact that he's pissed me off and left me without any responsibilities. I'm thinking yard forking…


Me: You wanna eat?The Smoodge: No.

Me: You wanna go get me a diaper? TS: No.

Me: Wanna go potty? TS: No.

Me: Wanna go jump off a tall tower? TS: Tower?


Sunday afternoon, and I'm waiting for The Smoodge to wake up from her nap.  In the meantime, I've changed the look of my blog about six times.  Not sure how I feel about this one, but I guess I'll roll with it for a bit.  At least until I find something I like better.
Those stinkin' allergies are attacking me again.  I never used to have any issues with allergies.  I mean, randomly I'd have weird issues with things like grass.  Or stuffed animal hair.  I know, that one freaks me out too.  But other than that, all the cedar and pollen and blah blah blah never bothered me.  Until.  I had The Smoodge.  I am pretty sure it's really HER that I'm allergic too, and the other stuff is just what triggers the external reactions.  I mean, who WOULDN'T be allergic to this:

I'm pretty sure everyone is allergic to ninja babies.

A Day in the Life of Someone Who Deals with a Moron Baby Daddy

Ok, I realize this may be cheating just a bit, because it's not a real blog entry, it's just cutting and pasting an email conversation between myself and my AWESOME (said with only a hint of sarcasm) ex-husband.  But.  It IS actually the kind of crap I deal with from him on a regular basis, and since I have to deal with it, I thought it only fair that you should share in the bull shit.

For the back story, The Smoodge and I went on a two week vacation over the holidays.  I let him know in accordance with the damn divorce decree, and he agreed.  We got back this last weekend, and he started this email conversation with me on Thursday.  He's in red (because that's what color evil is) and I'm in blue.  The ONLY thing I've changed is her name to The Smoodge (because that would be weird if that's how we referred to her in real life.  that's just for you crazies).
Mandy, Since you were out of town during my weekend visitation with her, I will keep her overnight o…