floccinaucinihilipilification

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 ot...

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!

***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 ...

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 ot...

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. 

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 ...