Making your way in the world today takes everything you got.

This birthday was about half great and half shitty, with great being against all odds. My attitude and emotional status have been all over the place lately, from grief, shame, humiliation, and regret to optimism, happiness, and hope to rage and spitefulness.

We got our letter of foreclosure Saturday morning. I worried about it all day, and then went out for birthday dinner with several friends, and then headed back to Kristi and Chris' new place to drink birthday beer. It was nice to spend time with everybody; most of my favorite people were there.

I think living at my mom's house isn't the end of the world. It is one of those things that will work eventually, but will start out kind of stressful and uncomfortable.

I've been talking with the mortgage company today, and I think we have some options, some possibility of avoiding the foreclosure, which I am taking steps to move towards. I do feel like we can't possibly pay for the house, and whether the bank forecloses or we get out of the woods and then hand them the keys, we are going to have to get out. I wrote a long letter of hardship to send the mortgage company and realized we aren't irresponsible, we aren't bad people, this isn't all our faults. These past two years have been really, awfully hard; it's been one bad thing after another, including insurance disasters, plumbing disasters, employment disasters, custody and ex-wife disasters. The end result has been that the amount of money Jason and I bring in to the house has dwindled lower and lower, and the amount of money we need to be sending out has risen higher and higher. Unfortunately we just can't reconcile the two. Add to that the fact that Jason and I are both totally, absolutely stressed out 24 hours a day, and you got the recipe for a hot mess.

Things with Kane and Jude's mom is pretty much at a standstill. Jason occasionally gets text messages from her asking for money. I would like for her to know that as soon as she figures out how to squeeze blood from a turnip, she should give me a call. Or a text. Whatever.

Yesterday was my 29th birthday, and guess what I got? Foreclosure.

It's been a damn long time since we've been able to pay the mortgage, so it's not like it's a complete surprise. It's just that every payday, the money is gone before we get it, paying the daycare and the power and the loans etc. So here we are.

This weekend we start moving stuff into my mom's house.

On children's programming.

So Bunnytown is one of Reed's new favorite shows, and I think it's okay. We have been inundated with the Wiggles for the last several months, which I resisted for along time because of this atrocity right here.



I first saw this when I worked at a daycare in 2001. I was all "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS TRIPE THAT THESE KIDS ARE BEGGING TO WATCH? OH MY GOD. WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE I WAS WATCHING THE WALTONS AND YELLOW SUBMARINE." After a couple hundred days of watching the Wiggles, I now don't find them atrocious at all. I actually walk around singing several of their songs, and I occasionally look forward to watching them with Reed. I know that's all against God's plan and all, my wanting to watch stuff WITH him instead of utilizing random children's television to babysit him while I have my gin and a cigarette, but I've always gone against the grain. I tried to find one of my favorite songs they sing, the bricklayer song, but I found this beauty right here.



I am new to the Bunnytown stuff, so when I searched and found the following video I decided to post it because it is so similar to a certain someone's bedtime around here. We go through this almost every night of the week.

I'll need a matching helmet for my scooter.

It's a big weekend at work- we have several weddings on Saturday and a big in-house event on Sunday, so everyone is a little crazy here. I've gotten to the point at work where I despise my job, despise most of the people I work with. I start out on the defense in the morning, and it can only go downhill from there. I think I want to work in Leeds and drive a Vespa. I would be cute on a Vespa. I could get a sidecar for Reed. And Jason. Jason and Reed can be my bitches.

Reed has entered some kind of sudden-death terrible twos stage without warning any of us first. He can be as happy as can be and will suddenly be writhing on the floor screaming, red-faced, saying no to any suggestion we make (and I try everything- popsicles, trips to the store, toys, movies and tv, sandwiches, cashews, gold monkeys, EVERYTHING). It is got Jason and me both on edge.

I am showing my jewelry to a local boutique on Thursday and have high hopes. Here's to optimism.

If anyone is interested in reading my article that was in the July issue of Lipstick magazine, just click here, scroll down, and click on "Top 10".

My birthday is Friday, and we're going to celebrate it Saturday, but I need suggestions. Karaoke? Bar? Restaurant? Kristi's house (would that be okay, Kristi?)?

My best impression of what will send me to an early grave:

"MONEY MONEY MONEY! I WANT SOME MONEY! GIVE ME SOME MONEY! YOU PAY FOR IT! I WON'T PAY FOR IT! WHY WOULD I PAY FOR IT WHEN I CAN JUST SIT HERE AND SAY THAT I WON'T?! I WANT TO NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN AND GET PAID FOR IT! YOU TAKE 'EM AND AS LONG AS YOU'RE COMING BY YOU CAN JUST DROP OFF THAT CHECK! WHY WOULD I PAY FOR THEIR CLOTHES OR SUPPLIES OR FOOD?! WHERE IS MY GOD-DAMNED MONEY?! I'M GOING TO GET THERE LATE BUT WHEN I PULL UP YOU HAVE MY MONEY READY! MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY!"

Do you realize?

Originally uploaded by buffpuff

Last was we saw the Flaming Lips at City Stages. It was interesting and VERY, VERY LONG.

Today I managed to meet a deadline that I had started to think was a lost cause. Yay for small victories.

I have leads on several really good opportunities, and I'm trying to make myself follow them, even though most days I'm proud of myself if I manage to get out of bed in the morning. It's a stressful time right now, and I'm not handling it all very well. The nausea and flight instinct are mounting, getting bigger and badder and less ignorable.

I think we've made a pretty big decision, a huge one in fact, but I'm not going to go into detail yet. I will in the next couple of weeks- just not yet. You have no idea how badly I want to come here and write every single detail of every single aspect of my life, to tell you every feeling and fear and joy that crosses my mind, to list every moment of every day. But for one thing you don't want to read about what I had for lunch or how it made my toots smell. Secondly, some things need to be finalized before I get on here tirading about 'em.

Just know, anyone who may be reading this and thinking they in charge, WE MAKING THE DECISION. Jason and I have a life here; we're adults, and we've been doing a great job at some of the most important things in life. Now it's time to reevaluate for everyone's own good. And that's what we're doing.

"Happiness is when you really feel good with somebody..."

Well, things are changing all the time- feelings, opinions, options, desires, pleasures, pains, illnesses, favorites, irritations- and I can't keep up. I am trying to just breathe and eat Rolaids and pretend our lives are normal and calm.

Tonight I am going to see Al Green- surely all I need is a little love and happiness...

Sheboygan.

Holy moly, this life is a hard one. Today I just can't seem to wake up. My head has been hurting, and my eyelids have been drooping pretty much all day. It just seems like there is too much, too much to do, too much to think about, too much to talk about, too many phone calls to make.

We saw our lawyer again today. We can expect a court date in the next few weeks. I still can't believe that she is pushing this, that she wants to go to court and talk in front of all those people about her personal business. But hey, if she's ready, I definitely am. Nerve-wracking, expensive, necessary. I have to say that I'm glad we have actual legal counsel and aren't relying on random internet crap as our source of information. JUST SAYING.

This, work, marriage, money, cars, kids, it's enough to really make a person turn it all over to God. And Natural Light. God and Natural Light can get me through it.

Ah, how quickly the tide turns.

SO THIS HAS BEEN A FUN EVENING.

Kane and Jude's step-dad called Jason at work and ranted erratically about all kinds of random crap, including that Jason blackmailed his ex-wife for money, that we have the kids "livin' three to a room", that Jason is just trying to get child support, that he would never harm Jason's children, and so on and so forth. Jason asked to talk to the kids' mother, and was told "she's in the kitchen cooking with the kids" (it was 9:30 at the time). It only took us about fifteen phone calls to finally get an answer, and it was step-daddy again, who then told me that he had done nothing but help Jason out, and that their mom was in the shower. Turns out that was a lie as well, because when she finally called Jason she told him she was putting the kids to bed. She went on to say that she wasn't prepared to sign anything right now, and that the kids should just go ahead and move back with them and go to school where they live.

In short, they prove at every turn that they are totally unstable, unpredictable, and ABSOLUTELY OBLIVIOUS to the kids' welfare.


I will tell you people what I tell Reed when he acts like a ridiculous ass: Do you want a good fight? Because if you keep on like this, we're going to have a good fight.

Well, blow me down.

Well, for goodness sakes, Kane and Jude's mom has decided that the kids need their father, and that they don't really want to change things around, so maybe things ought to just stay the way they are.

So right now I am marveling at the wonders of the human brain, and being thankful that she either got some sense or got distracted. WHATEVER. Luckily our lawyer has already filed, so we can get it all in writing pretty quickly.

I am working on another article for Lipstick, and I'm hoping I can write for them frequently. Gas prices, among other things, are making me really weigh the worth of driving to Homewood every day for a job at which I make so little money; I realized yesterday that it costs $8 every day for me to get to work and back. Add to that the $95 a week we pay for Reed to go to daycare just so I can work, and it makes $135 a week. Subtract that from my weekly pay and I'm left with $140- I am making $140 a week after those expenses, expenses I wouldn't have if I didn't work. I am having trouble thinking "AND IT'S TOTALLY WORTH IT." I mean, I don't exactly love my experience there, and most people don't like their jobs, but I work somewhere where my boss throws boxes at me.

Anyways, it's just something to think about.

Cleaning out my text messages...

- Bottletree. Soul dj. No cover.

- Victoria Beckham has a two million dollar vibrator. It's solid platinum with a diamond-encrusted base and a 16 karat diamond necklace which begs the question- a necklace? Really?

- I just got blatantly and obviously hit on by a middle aged Greek dude who sounded like Balkie and looked like my uncle. FAIL.

- I bought a vest last night. I'm not sure what's become of me but I love it.

- Side bun is our band name.

- Out the side doe, with the other hootchies.

- Watch Fox 6 news to see my ass selling flowers.

- I love seeing rich ladies jogging in Mountain Brook, almost falling over from all the Prozac.

- Oo, yur like the sun, chasin all the rain away.

- Want to come watch me cry, drink, and make cufflinks?

- I just got off work and am driving through a monsoon. I'll call you when I find out if we are going to make it.

*And yes, the idea to post these came from Miss Sara.

Daily doo.

I haven't had the energy to write much here lately, because for the most part, I just keep thinking of negative things to say. I figure you people probably have enough going on and have read my bitching enough that you don't really need any more of it right now.

I am about to miss what will probably be the best and most explosive staff meeting at work ever- we had some pretty big events last weekend, during which one guy quit and several others were inconsolably insulted by things the first guy said and did. As a result, our boss called an EMERGENCY staff meeting and instructed us all to type out every single complaint we have, EVEN ABOUT HER, about anybody in the store, and also anything good we have to say and drop it into this SEALED box to be read and dealt with at the meeting. Unfortunately I didn't eat dinner last night after clinching through a night of fit-throwing from the little dude in my house, plus finding out that Kane has been looking at PORN on the internet, and as a result I spent most of the night lying awake with a burning, cramping gut. IT WAS AWESOME. Anyways, this morning I felt terrible and stayed out of work and now I'm missing the meeting. Seriously, every person I work with has chips on they shoulders and grudges and secrets and they all secretly, or openly, dislike almost everyone else there and I AM MISSING ALL THE ACTION. I didn't ever type my grievances and so now I'll type them here:

I wish my boss didn't throw boxes at me, or clap in my face, or grunt at me and roll her eyes at me. I think these tactics are counterproductive, in that they make me want to steal things and throw bricks through the window.

I wish that all the lip-service my boss gives to equality and how everyone in the workplace should be treated the same had any truth, and effect on the way she treats her employees. One guy can scream about scrotums and putting stuff in his butt and licking butts and show stuffy old clients naked pictures of his boyfriend's ass and IT'S JUST SO GOSH-DARNED CUTE, THOSE GAY BOYS! But I make one loud comment about wanting a beer and I'm chastised in front of the entire staff, singled out as an example of how INAPPROPRIATE we can be at work and how it should stop.

I think that pretty much everyone we work with does a good job and works hard and is good at what they do. HA HA, BITCHES. I may get tired of certain people pouting and throwing fits and refusing to take their phone calls and refusing to talk to customers and getting irritable if I ask them questions and trying to pass as much of their work as possible off on me, but I also respect all of them. Almost. Almost all of them. And that's pretty good, right?

And now it's summer.

Originally uploaded by buffpuff

Some time soon I bet I'll be able to think of lots of things to write about on here that don't always involve the word "FUCK", in all caps like that, repeatedly.

Our lawyer has filed some stuff and sent a letter to Kane and Jude's mom. Of course, when she laid down this decision she immediately stopped communicating with us- won't answer the phone, won't return our calls. So we're still not hearing from her at all, still being avoided, so we have no way of knowing if she's received it yet, if she understands the severity of the situation, if she knows how bizarre it will be if she has to go sit in a court and talk in front of our families and lawyers and a judge about her life and all the things that have happened to her and all the things that she's done and still try to come out of it at the end saying "And that's why I'm a great mom."

One day soon, after all this mess has passed, I'll probably go into much more detail about their mother, if for no other reason so everyone reading will understand why we have been so panic-stricken, why we worry around the clock about what she might do next. Up until recently I have made some passing comments, but I've never felt the need to make her personal business public because I figured, hey, she deserves to have her skeletons in the closet, she deserves her privacy, I can leave well enough alone.

Now it has become clear that all those details, events, secrets, are going to be affecting me on a regular basis. I have put a lot of time and effort into trying to take good care of Kane and Jude; I don't feel obligated to a woman who will willingly jerk them around just to try and get her way. If nothing else, even if it weren't for how much I love them, even if it weren't for how much I love their father, if there were no other reasons in the world for me to worry about them they would still be Reed's brothers. He loves them and loves playing with them and looks up to them. That alone makes me wildly fierce about who's caring for them, how they're being cared for.

In other news, I started taking a different birth control pill and it immediately made my period stop. Just like that. No more. It is making me sick as a dog, but the sickness is slowly tapering off, and I AM NOT HAVING A PERIOD. After three months of it, it's a big deal.


Now if I could just stumble upon a good attitude and a million dollars, all would be right with the world.

Dear God, make me a bird, so that I can fly, far far away.

I would like to say that I pray all the time, every day, many times a day. Unfortunately lately I've had a hard time praying. I still believe, I just have been so tired and had so much running through my head that I just haven't prayed, have been lazy, confused, preoccupied.

However melodramatic, I've decided to write a prayer here just to get it out, solidify it. Then whenever I feel too tired to pray I can come back and read this.

God, please watch over my family and friends.

Please watch my mama. Keep her safe, and make her life good. Give her happiness and relief from stress and let her have the ability to find some peace now that she's raised her children. Please give her the knowledge that she's done a good job.

Please help my sister to find some happiness in a life that is different from what she imagined as a child. Help her to relax and find some goodness in her life, and to let go of all her disappointments.

Please help my dad to be happy and safe and healthy. Help him to know that his kids are all good people, even if we're so far from perfect.

Please help Jason's mom to find some peace and to know that she did a good job with her children. Help her to know that their fierce love of life is a testament to what kind of parent she is.

Please help Jason's dad to love himself, to be proud of his own tough brand of fathering. Help him to remember that his children love him.

Please keep Jason's brothers and their families safe, and keep them on the path to a great life, a path I think they are already on.

Please give happiness and safety to the rest of our families, our uncles and aunts and cousins and step-parents and all of their families.

Please watch over Kristi and Chris. Help them to stay as happy as they are now, to remember this time when life gets harder or different, to have a life with babies and good jobs and friends who love them and take care of them.

Please help Andy to find some happiness, to let go of some of the awful things he's been through and feel a little lighter. Watch over Diane and give her the peace of mind that she deserves as a woman who has worked her entire life to make a good life for her children.

Please help Lindsey to know that her life will be full and perfect and that this time when things are swimming around her and everything is murky will one day be gone. Help her to remember that when her life seems mired in pain and uncertainty, her friends still love her and still want everything to get better, and that's a start.

Please help Stephanie to find some peace, some calm, some ability to see clearly in the dark. Please give James the ability to center down, to remember how delicate life is, to remember how much he loves life and smiling and his future wife.

Please watch over all my friends who I don't see as often- Deanna, Brock, Linnea, Johnny, Derek, Mason, Jasper, Amanda, John, probably others whose names aren't coming to me now- help them to be happy, keep them safe.

God, please watch over Kane and Jude and help them to understand that parents can't always agree. Help them to understand that having divorced parents, fighting parents, is not their fault and that everything will be okay. Help them to forgive us for being imperfect and not always knowing the right answer. Help them to remember that this life is not perfect and even when things are disappointing, we are always trying really, really hard.

Please keep my baby safe. Please, God, just be with Reed and don't let anything bad happen to him. I am having a hard time right now not thinking about all the bad things that can happen to a child, all the illness and accidents and tragedies. Please just let Reed have a long happy life that I can enjoy with him. Please don't let him be a crazy person like me. Please give him the ability to be a hard worker and a fierce lover of his friends and family and a person who can love his life with reckless abandon.

Please help Jason to remember why he fell in love with me, why I fell in love with him. Please let us know how to persevere. Please help us to find our roles with each other as a team, as a pair of people who want the same things, and people who want good things for each other. Please help him find everything he's looking for. Please keep him safe.

Please help me to be a better person. Jesus, please, just help me let go of some of this grief that is inexplicably lodged in my heart. Please don't let me waste this time, this time with Jason and Reed and Kane and Jude, being a sad person, a crazy person. Please help me to know the right thing to do in all these situations I find myself in, these moments when I feel lost, when I forget for a moment that I'm not a kid, when I think that I can't possibly be old enough to make the decisions that I'm faced with. Please help me hold on these last little remnants of my ability to have a good time, to smile and laugh, to get pleasure out of watching other people laugh. Help me remember that my children are fragile and I must always think about every action, every comment, every single thing that I do and how it will affect them. Please give me the strength and grace to combine the very best qualities of my favorite people, to be like my mother and Kristi and Lindsey and Jason and Stephanie and Deanna and to have the quick, witty sense of humor and irony that Kane and Jude and Reed have. Help me to remember why I am not perfect, why Jason isn't perfect, to remember that our flaws are beautiful and that without them, we would be someone else. Please give me some peace in the night, some time when I don't wonder if the doors are locked, some time when I don't wonder what that sound was, some moments when I'm not thinking about all the bad stuff that could be about to happen.

Oh God, please don't forget about Leonard Peltier. I cannot imagine how hard his life has been, still is, how much longing he must have to hold his grandchildren, to stroke their hair and tell them that he loves them.

Please help all of us to do better, to think more about this living, breathing organism that is the world we live in. Help us to remember that it is our responsibility to make sure that there still is a world for our children, that this fierce love and fear we have for them is the same fierce love and fear they will have for their own children, and that we have a hand in deciding how much they will have to worry about their families, their lives, their futures.

And God, as long as I'm making requests, please help me not take a cow pie to work in a bag and throw it at my boss. All those times that she rolls her eyes at me, grunts at my "stupidity", claps her hands in my face, talks to me like I'm an idiot, please in those moments help her to know that she is walking a very thin line with a very crazy lady. We haven't got Reed potty trained yet, so I still have access to some very nasty substances which I could very easily rub all over the door-handles on her car.

Help me to remember why a sense of humor is so important, and help everyone reading to know that I still have one. It just gets lost behind a very thick fog sometimes.

The next storm was today.

Oh, for the love of shit, it's Mother's Day time, and that means it's time for my job to make me question my will not to drink during the day. Or morning. Or while in the bed, during the night before.

Seriously, people want their flowers for their mamas, they want to be able to wait until 48 hours before the big day, and they don't want anyone standing in their way. Today was a long day of pissing off various people, from the owner to the delivery manager to the customers to the designers. People are totally unafraid to let you know that you are an insignificant cog in the machine that is THE BEST FLOWERS IN BIRMINGHAM, PEOPLE. I found myself saying "FUCK IT" more often and more loudly than most days, and it's usually pretty frequent if that tells you anything.

Tonight I am trying to push through the nausea and fatigue to just, please, get some alcohol into my system. Tomorrow I'm going to work with a can of silly string in my apron because, listen, I won't get in as much trouble shooting people with that as with the lazers that come out of my eyes.

Calm after the storm... and before the next one.

Originally uploaded by buffpuff

Jason and I simultaneously exhaled today, a mighty heaving that left us totally giddy and thankful and exhausted. I'm still nauseated, but it matters a little less now. I will probably write a lot more about all this at a later date, but for now I will say that I think everything is going to be okay.

I have found myself totally uninterested in staying up past about 7:45 lately. I've always been a late-nighter, so it's a little annoying. I keep thinking I'm going to have a drink after Reed goes to bed and then make some jewelry; I end up having a drink of water with an antihistamine while Reed is still watching his nightly Wiggles film and then passing out around 9:30. It's good to get all this rest, but I'm starting to wonder if my time- the time during which I love to party and hang out and stay up late- has finally passed. IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME.

I have to say, though, that I seriously doubt my late nights are over; this has just been a particularly rough patch this past couple of weeks. We've found a tiny place where we can rest easy, at least for a few days, and I'm trying to remember that I don't have to be stressed out right now. It may get better or it may get worse, but for the next week or so we won't know, so we may as well feel better.

Making a wish.

Originally uploaded by buffpuff

There has been so much going on lately- nauseation, continued bleeding, A LOT of crying, pulling of hair, frustration, worry, constant phone-calling, and then a couple of good things.

I think this super-cute little boutique in Homewood called Happi is going to carry my jewelry. I am so excited and hopeful and grateful- it's really a big deal to me, and I hope that it works out well for everyone involved.

An article that I wrote is being published in the June issue of Lipstick Magazine. Again, great opportunity, very excited, could lead to other opportunities, super-awesomeness.

I am not downplaying either of those things because they are both so rad and exciting, but I must say that the past two days of making 734 phone calls to 347 different people, telling our story those many times, talking to people who didn't know, or didn't care, or didn't want to disturb their lunch is really defeating. It has gotten to the point where every time I hang up the phone, every single time, I start to cry. I sit there for a few minutes and cry and rub my eyes and collapse in on myself, and then I straighten my shoulders and find my list and make the next call. It's not even that we're getting bad news from anyone; we just can't seem to light on the right branch, so to speak.

Luckily we're checking out another couple of branches on Thursday. So the beat goes on.


P.S. I just noticed that Lipstick has a link to my blog under "Our Favorite Websites". How cool is that? WAY.

On the proving of points.

So Kane and Jude's mom called them last night on Jude's cellphone- DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED OF COURSE I KNOW HE'S TOO YOUNG TO HAVE A CELLPHONE- and I overheard both Jude and Kane saying something about how Fridays were pretty much "off days" for them and they could "totally" miss that day and it wouldn't matter, etc. Being as shameless of an enforcer as I am, I immediately brought it up with them after they got off the phone.

Turns out she figured it would be a GREAT idea if they went to her house a day early (Thursday instead of Friday) so they could go to the MIDNIGHT PREMIERE of Ironman. ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. Because they can just totally miss school on Friday. Since it's an off day and all.

Listen, I am not nearly as much of an over-reactor or hard-ass or wet blanket as I may seem on this blog. But FOR THE LOVE OF MY SANITY, PLEASE, PEOPLE. Right when she is saying they ought to be living with her during the school year, right when I have already been re-iterating to folks that one of the main reasons that Kane and Jude live with us is that they missed school all the time when they lived with her, right when she expects us to agree with her that it would be in their best interests to totally change school systems and daily routines, THEN SHE DOES THIS.

Nevermind the fact that Jude has a field trip on Friday that we've already paid for. Nevermind the fact that Jude missed so many days from the flu and the ear infection he had the next week that now he has to have a doctor's excuse to miss any more. Nevermind the GLARING OBVIOSITY of his EIGHTNESS (because, and I'm sorry to be such a square, but really? An eight-year-old at a midnight premiere?).

Thank you, mom, for proving my point. This list I'm making titled "Reasons Why This Plan Is Ludicrous" just got one item longer.

The tide is high, but I'm holding on.

Reed has stayed up until about 10:30 for three nights in a row.

I might crawl into the drier with a bottle of rum and see how long I can still breathe.

There is some good news. I think I'm being published in a local magazine. More later when it's finalized.

I forgot to even mention that Jason's cell phone was stolen at his work a few weeks ago- we've since ordered him a new phone, and tonight someone CALLED HIS PHONE asking for a person who works with him. I think I may have hyperventilated until I can no longer clearly make a point, but the point here is that now Jason thinks he knows who took the phone. Now we can at least try and get that person to pay for the $30 in downloads and the $80 in new phone.

There is more good news, but I think it's better not to go blabbing about it here, at least for the time being. It just feels good to feel some hope tingling down there somewhere.

WOW, that sounded dirty. I meant "down there" in my stomach, you PERVERTS! Gah!

Bowling balls for tonsils.

The nausea has set in, either from the birth control or the impending nastiness with Kane and Jude's mother. Days and days of clenching, gagging, and crying is really starting to take a toll on my body and mind.

She has registered them for school where she lives. Her mother thinks this plan is "great". It's becoming more and more obvious that there must be some hidden goal, something that no one is telling us about this plan, because I just can't understand what about it is great. I mean, all the time that they usually spend the night with Nan, they'll now be at our house, so there will be no more spending the night with Nan. All the time that they go on vacations with their mom or her family will now be spent at our house, so there will be no more vacations. The only days that they will spend with their mom or Nan or whomever will be days that they're at school for most of the day; the only nights with them will be nights that will be followed by getting up for school. I just feel like there is some hidden agenda, some reason we're not being told that makes this all just FANTASTIC for them.

I really can't apologize enough to all of you for my obsession with this topic. The moments I spend thinking about anything else are few and far between. Thankfully, Jason will begin the phone calls and referral process with some legal eagles tomorrow; I hope that most of the day will be spent lawin', not jawin'. Or jawin' about lawin'. Anything that might help ease this constant feeling like I have a 40 ton cement block riding on my shoulders.

Not even kidding.

DSC_0057.jpg
Originally uploaded by cuttingroomfloor

This week has been really, awfully, terribly long, filled with thinking, re-thinking, fearing, raging, planning, calculating, researching, puking, bleeding, drinking, and then fearing and thinking and planning some more.

In other words, you have not wanted to be around me this week. Someone send Jason and Kristi a medal- they spent a lot of time with me this week.

I'm looking back on pictures from our show and trying to relive the happiness, the carefreeness, the feeling that things are good and will continue to get better.

This picture has most of my most favorite girls in it. DON'T EVEN GET PISSED OF IF YOU'RE NOT IN THE PICTURE AND WANT TO BE ONE OF MY FAVORITE GIRLS. I have others. These are must most of 'em.

I'm so happy.

So somebody found this for me, which is perfect because I need it more now than ever. Enjoy.

Now is the time for the breakdown.

There is nothing like ending a nice, long day of hard work with listening to a toddler scream.

Reed just finished a tantrum session that included some of the most gutteral, wild screaming I've ever heard him emit. He didn't want to put his shirt on, he didn't want to take it off. He didn't want a popsicle, a drink of water, milk, some french fries. He didn't want to be left in bed, he didn't want to be taken out of it. He didn't want me to leave him alone, he didn't want me near him, he didn't want me to talk to him, he didn't want any of his toys, his bah, Jude's slinky.

If ever there has been a time when I've thought "That's my boy!", this is it.

I am in day three of constant thought, worry, and rage about my step-children's mother's inability to see past the end of her own nose. It's eating me alive in a way that's both emotionally and physically painful. I allow myself to forget sometimes, when things go smoothly with her for a few months, that we're dealing with someone who is manipulative, thoughtless, and calculating.

I am in day 782 (or 60, if we're being literal) of bleeding like a stuck pig. It is wearing me out, I have to tell you. I often think of the ob/gyn, the doctor who delivered Reed, chuckling and saying, "Girl, you're headed for a hysterectomy!" as if it was funny or cute or something to be amused over. Part of me thinks, well, I guess I better call the doctor. But I have some experience with that, the seeing of doctors for this condition. I saw my pediatrician about it when I was thirteen; I've since seen general practioners and gynocologists alike. I've taken various drugs and herbs and eaten sweet potatoes and had a d and c ("dusting and cleaning") and slept with my feet on piles of pillows and drank hot tea. The only thing that's ever had any effect is taking birth control pills and that only helps somewhat, some of the time and the side effects include CRAZY and ILL and EMPTY BANK ACCOUNT.

I'm catharting all over the place and I hope you can bear with me, because I have a feeling there will be more of this over the next few days or weeks or months. For now I'm drinking beer and sleeping on a towel. Jason has never felt more lucky to be married to such a sex machine.

"I still say that if you don't want to raise kids, DON'T HAVE THEM."

Man, this stuff with Kane and Jude is consuming me, has consumed me all day long.

If we make this change that their mom wants to make, they will be with her for every week day during the school year except for school holidays and every other weekend during the summer. The rest of the time they will be with us- every weekend during the school year, every holiday and day off from school, and all summer except for the every other weekend when they're at their mom's.

The reason that this is a big deal is this: Jason and I both HAVE TO work full time in order to afford our mortgage, our bills, our food, etc. We both work five days a week; sometimes Jason works six. I ALWAYS work Saturdays, and Jason ALWAYS works Saturdays and Sundays. We both work in retail, so we both always work during school breaks and holidays. At Christmas time, for example, we are off on Christmas day and that's it.

Kane and Jude's mom and and stepdad, on the other hand, DO NOT HAVE TO WORK. Neither of them work. At all. Period. EVERY DAY IS AN OFF-DAY. So when the kids stay with them on weekends and holidays and in the summer, they have the ability to go to movies, the McWane center, day trips; they go on vacations and camping trips and road trips. They have a brand new swimming pool at their brand new apartments where they go swimming every single day in the summertime. And they can all sleep as late as they want to, every single morning.

That's why this arrangement works out pretty well- we are on a fairly strict schedule, and Kane and Jude's school schedule just slides right into that schedule. We never go to the movies, we never go swimming; we very, very rarely go on vacation and when we do, it's a weekend at a friend's house a few hours away, not anything remotely exciting for a kid. At our house there are rules about bedtime and how much time can be spent watching television or playing video games; at their mom's house there are no such rules.

So if this swap happens, they will be at their mom's house for the school week, and then they'll be at our house on the weekend while Jason and I work and they do nothing but sit in the living room. I'm not exaggerating- there will be nothing for them to do. Then during their awesome-ass summer, they will stay with us for several ten-day stretches during which Jason and I will work, and they will sit on the couch. During all the excitement of spring break and Christmas vacation, they will sit on the couch while Jason and I work.

Granted Jason and I are home at night, which means most days we'll get our whole three-and-a-half hours with them before bedtime, during which they will watch television and play video games since that's the only time we allow it. We don't feel like we can move their bedtime back because besides the fact that THEY need the sleep, Reed, Jason, and I need the sleep, too. Their bedtime is just one step in a progression of steps every night that lead to Jason and I falling into bed.

This is all besides the one big flashing neon sign of a reason why I don't think this can work: I'm not convinced that Kane and Jude are old enough to be left home alone for eight or nine hour stretches for several days a week. When Jason told their mom that we didn't have anyone to keep them on those days, her answer was "You better work on getting those days off." Right. Jason will just phone on in that he's going to need to be off from May 28 until August 8 this summer. Thanks for the advice. Even if his employer would go right along with it, that would reduce his paychecks from 80 hours of pay to about 16. The good news is that we have all these piles of money all over the house that have been just DRIVING ME BATTY, and now we can finally put them to good use. Again, THANKS FOR THOSE JEWELS OF KNOWLEDGE, YOU SHINING EXAMPLE OF A PARENT, YOU.

This is all really just an big indicator of what I'd been fearing recently- that their mom is still, for the most part, mentally unstable and totally self-involved. And delusional. And assy.

So, we're exploring our legal options. I think two things are possible. Either someone will wave something shiny in front of her and this will all be forgotten, or it's going to get a lot uglier before it gets better. Right now I'm praying for the first and counting on the second.

Flowers or weeds?

Flowers or weeds?
Originally uploaded by buffpuff

The last week or so has been a blur, an exhausting whirlwind of good and bad and ugly.

Our show at Speakeasy was fantastic- we sold a whole lot of stuff and did a whole lot of networking. Some new things have opened up for us as a consequence and I'm looking forward to moving ahead with our artistic careers. Plus we drank a lot, laughed a lot, and got lots of hugs from people we love very much.

It turns out Reed had walking pnemonia, but now he's on the mend. He's been sleeping through the night with no nasty coughing fits, which is good for everyone involoved.

Kane and Jude are back from spring break and ready to get this last month of school over with.

We are about to embark, I think, on a very long and painful journey with lawyers and courts and finger-pointing and I'm really not looking forward to it. Part of me hesitates to say much about it, but the larger part wants to rant and rave and scream and spill it all out for you. And for me. And for my knotted stomach and swimming head.

Kane and Jude's mom has decided that the kids should live with her
to go to school and stay with us for all the weekends, holidays, and in the summer- pretty much the exact opposite of the way things are now. She says that this is her decision to make and the fact that we don't agree to it doesn't matter.

Luckily a few people who are very close to us are very invested in this situation and are helping us figure out what path we're going to take. That's all I'm going to say for now, except to say that I hope you can all bear with me through what is bound to be a difficult time for all of us. I appreciate everyone who reads this and I'll try to keep things balanced and rational.

But I make no promises.

You gotta know when to hold 'em.

Ah, life. Such a tricky little bitch, eh?

We've managed to push through the moment when we thought we would never get everything done for our show; now it appears that we'll have around 50 photos, 65 pieces of jewelry, and 3 paintings for sale, as well as a good-lookin' portfolio to peruse. Now there's room to be excited about it again, since the fear and dread have worn off.

Kane and Jude are at their mom's house for spring break and our house has been quiet, in both a relaxing and unnerving kind of way. The peace and calm that sets in when we have one child instead of three is nice in that we can regroup, rekindle, and revive. But I have to say, I get so accustomed to our life with Kane and Jude that I find myself sort of spinning my wheels at times.

Their mother called today to let Jason know that he should come early to pick them up on Sunday because she has something to talk to him about and something for him to "take a look at". She apparently refused to divulge anything about the nature of the issue; she would only repeat that Jason can come early to "talk" and "look". This, too, is unsettling since our experiences with her, both ours as a married couple and Jason's on his own, have been tumultuous and unpredictable. More on this on Sunday when there is more to tell.

Reed has inherited my tendency towards constant illness of some kind. We're hoping it's just allergies, but he has a really nasty cough that keeps him up at night, and it makes it hard for all of us to act like normal humans during the daylight hours. Last night he came to bed with us around three a.m., and this morning there were literally loogies all over the bed where Reed had been sleeping. It's really lovely, the blobs of phlegm all over our sheets. Then when he came home from school today, he had a pretty bad tantrum after I had to physically wrench the gum out of his mouth that he kept nearly sucking down his throat with every hacking cough, and then passed out at 6:45, about three hours earlier than he normally goes to sleep. Right now he's still in bed, and I'm sort of pacing about the house waiting for him to wake up and stay up all night long.

But maybe he'll stay asleep! Who knows? It's like roulette except I NEVER win money. Here, the house NEVER wins, and neither do I. How's that for odds?

No carns, no mums, no babies breath.

The weather has been so summery, so breezy and comfortable and sunny and happy, that this sudden cold spell is making me very grumpy. I'm cold and irritated and my nostrils hurt.

But Reed made me feel better a moment ago. He's obsessed with this little pink pirate dude that came with a pirate ship bath set his Grandmommy 'Cile gave him for his first birthday, and he takes it with him to bathe every night. When Jason was getting him out of the tub, I heard Reed saying "I give it to mommy! I give it to mommy!" Jason brought him in to me (into my crack den, where I smoke the crack), and he handed it to me and said, "There, mommy. He loves you."

Just about as sweet as it gets.

It's like a midget rodeo around here lately. My two-year-old does handstands- I am not shitting you.

The past few days I've thought about little else besides getting ready for our show at Speakeasy this Thursday night. There is a lot of photo-matting that must be done, and I'm feeling kind of nervous. I've been right on top of Jason, reminding him to print this and paint that and go get stuff and check stuff out. It's MARVELOUS for our marriage, as well as for Jason's opinion of me. He thinks I'm great. Really. The nagging- that's sexy. Just a little marriage advice from me to you.

At work today, I learned how to make corsages. It's a big deal, and I'm very excited about the learning because the more I know about what I do, the more valuable I become. That and one day I will rule the world, and the ruler of the world must wear the best corsages on a daily basis. Now I know how to make my own.

I'm so happy that I can dance, I'm so happy I can stand up and dance!

I decided I would show you what I've been obsessed with lately, and that is a song on Yo Gabba Gabba by The Saltines called I'm So Happy. I LOVE IT. I can't get enough of it.

Alas, I cannot find it anywhere on the internet. My searching skills are probably mediocre at best, but I tried YouTube, Myspace, and Google. Seriously, I can't find it. If you can find it I'll send you picture postcard of my bum.

But in the process I found another song that pleases me. Enjoy.

When Kane watches the show, I spontaneously develop a nervous tick.

Tonight I am battling with all my strength a serious headache and aching, burning ribs that shout WHY? WHY WOULD YOU MOVE WHEN YOU COULD JUST GET ON THE FLOOR AND LIE THERE?

I have just one anecdote for you. This evening I was cooking myself a quesadilla while Kane, Jude, and Reed sat at our kitchen table and ate theirs. Reed was, for the love of all that expects me to survive this month without taking a spatula and beating my face with it until I pass out or go blind, sitting quietly, eating, and nodding his head at everything that Kane and Jude were saying.

Then Kane says, "Jude I put our [I will never remember the name of this Pokemon dinosaur thingy that they have on some game on the internet] in daycare." Jude, bless his heart, actually froze, put his hand flat over his chest, and said, "MY [Pokemon dinosaur thingy]? WHY?" Kane thoughtfully replied, "Well, he has to grow and learn and socialize. When we check on him tomorrow, I bet he'll have metamorphosed into a [the next metamorphosis* of this Pokemon dinosaur thingy]. Jude took a deep breath and was like, "Mm, okay. I hope he's alright."

And I realized, THEY WERE ME AND JASON. They were such proud, thoughtful, caring and concerned parents right in that moment.

And then Reed dipped his quesadilla in his orange juice and ate it, and Kane and Jude proceeded to moan and convulse and gag.

* Did you know that they metamorph? I knew that, on account of I played Pokemon, the card game, for quite some time several years ago. I actually had hundreds of Pokemon cards organized into these long, cardboard boxes, and I had a killer deck that was pretty hard to beat. LOADS of things I haven't gotten to on this blog yet.

Screaming toddlers, leaking pipes, and a bag full o' tampons.

Tonight I'm feeling slightly melancholy, and I'm thinking that perhaps it's because of the, I don't know, MONTH-AND-A-HALF LONG Advil and Tampax binge I've been on.

I truly hope that none of the few boys who read this blog (Hey, Jason! Hey, Jason! Hey, Thom! ROBERT, are you reading this?) are horrified that I write this stuff, that I sneak it in too quickly for them to look away and think about baseball, or comic books, or girls who aren't currently menstruating. Or girls who aren't menstruating who play baseball and read comic books- THAT WOULD BE SO HOT.

Today I worked eight hours with an ace bandage strapped tightly around my ribs and, I have to tell you, it helped. Then Jason told me that the plumbing is not fixed, and I had to grip down onto the steering wheel tightly, tightly enough to stop my body from spontaneously throwing itself out of the window of my car whilst in motion.

I must say I feel like what I'm doing isn't so much circling the drain as persevering. There is a difference- that moment where I manage not to throw myself out the window of a moving car that I am driving? That's the difference.

P.S. I talked to someone tonight who I haven't talked to in quite a while, who I love very much. At one point, I had to tell him to hang on, and he got the immense pleasure of listening to me fighting a bag of peanuts out of Reed's hands. He said, "Dude, is he talking now?" I was like, "Yuh-huh!" He then said his significant other has baby fever, and I was like, "Well, just let me lock her in a room with Reed for about 48 hours. And I'll go drink."

Go forward. Move ahead. Try to detect it. It's not too late.

The plumbing is fixed, we think. Jason's car is fixed, we think. The "ripped, torn, and very inflamed cartilage" in my ribs might heal eventually, we think.

We've been taking Reed out into the world quite a bit lately, to restaurants and stores. It's fun to see how much he's grown up, waving at strangers and saying hello. He is so curious and friendly, and people really respond to it. Usually. Every now and then we run into people who are like I was about eight or ten years ago- "sure he's cute and all, but that doesn't mean I want him staring at me for long periods of time or standing close to me." But, hey, those people will be alright. They just need to drink more.

Sadly I don't have anything to say about balls.

So my doctor tells me that my ribs should be better in two to three weeks.

What can I say? I'm pretty unenthusiastic about it. He also gave me a note for work saying that I can't lift anything heavier than ten pounds for the next two weeks. Alas, he didn't give me note to hand to Reed that says, "Mommy can't live your heavy Agan ass for the next couple of weeks, so pipe down and rub her feet. Make her some nachos." He also didn't give me a prescription for two weeks resting on the beach like I'd hoped.

I am currently looking for a new doctor who will do my bidding.

In other news, we are running the dishwasher even though the plumbing isn't fixed yet. The only clean silverware we have are a few teaspoons, and the only clean dishes we have are a few clean plates and coffee cups. I GIVE. A clean kitchen is more important to me than cleanliness below the house. Sure, it stinks, but so does my kitchen sink which is full of all the dirty dishes that won't fit into the dishwasher.

I seem to be having trouble getting things done lately. Some days I'm on top of everything; oddly enough, it seems that on the days that I work I'm able to do a lot before and after work. On my off days something happens and the whole day gets sucked away. Today I was at the doctor for two-and-a-half hours; I had expected to be there for about an hour, and the time-suckage threw me for a loop. I've straightened up and done a few loads of laundry, which is good, but looking back at the day it feels wasted somehow. I don't know; we'll see.

Well, I'm off to the pharmacy to buy an ace bandage and some Mentholatum. Good times!

Much ado about balls.

Today some of the neighbor children were playing in the back yard with Kane, Jude, and Reed. I was attempting to straighten up inside when Kane came in with teary eyes and asked if I could please tell their friend D to go home. I asked him what was going on.

"Well, a minute ago Earl elbowed me in the back. That didn't hurt too bad, but then just now D punched me in the balls."

I have to tell you, there are very few things in life that render me completely unable to speak. Get out your camera and take a picture, because this is one of them.

While we're on the subject, last Thursday Kristi was here and we were getting Reed ready for bed. He was in the tub and telling a really long story that we couldn't really understand. He kept leaning back on his hands and lifting his hips out of the water, and we eventually discerned that he was talking about falling down and hurting his little boy area. Then, when he stopped talking and Kristi and I just sat there staring at him, he was forced to say, "MY DICK." Like, "GOOD LORD, do I have to spell it out for you?"

We were like, RIGHT. EXACTLY. We managed to distract him onto another subject, but the moment is forever burned into my brain.

I can't wait until he's sixteen and I can send links to this blog to his girlfriend.

"hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

DSC_0109.jpg
Originally uploaded by buffpuff

I'm waiting patiently for my ribs to heal. This has happened before, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

I'm really excited about our show at Speakeasy on April 17. It feels really good to be working towards something. Jason is working on some amazing paintings, and I have a whole lot of new jewelry to show off. We have a new lens and it's amazing; we've been hired to photograph a few upcoming weddings, and I'm feeling good about the future.

Jason's infinitely rad brother fixed his car, so we don't have to worry about that. Jason is about to fix the plumbing, so we're about to not have to worry about that.

Things get rough around here sometimes, and I'm lucky that I am surrounded by people who care and want to know what's going on and want to help. It's like a roller coaster- I feel bad and worried, and then I feel good and hopeful.

My karma is loving me, and I'm loving it back. I work hard to take care of three little people who aren't able to do anything but depend on me, and I work hard to make my husband glad that he knows me. i work hard to attempt to give back to all the people who take such good care of me. I may never repay all of you, but I will keep trying.

Whine, whine, whine- can't I do anything else. Um, no.

Yeah, have I ever written here about how I have always been especially prone to coming down with walking pnemonia and bronchitis? And how when I was sixteen I got for-real pnemonia and it lasted a really long time? And how on Thanksgiving that year I coughed until I cracked a rib and my parents had to take me to the emergency room and they took an x-ray and showed me the little crack and I thought, wow? Seriously, from coughing?

Yes, well that has happened again. When I woke up yesterday I noticed that when I coughed I had really intense pain in my right ribs. Now I'm waiting for my doctor to call me back and tell me what the best plan of action is- work, no work, medicine, no medicine, vodka and a shotgun, no vodka just the shotgun.

Reed has a doctor's appointment this afternoon to check out his eyes; they've been red and gooey for almost two weeks now. I'm quite sure it's not pink eye, but I just want to make sure that it's not anything serious or out of the ordinary. My allergies are so gross that I figure it might just be the pollen irritating them, but I'd like to make sure.

Have I ever written here about how my friend Misty had a strep infection in her eye when we were in middle school? And how Jason was diagnosed with strep throat on two days ago? Yes, well I just want to make sure that Reed doesn't have STREP EYE or something else equally horrifying.

Jason's car broke down yesterday, and the dish washer and kitchen sink are both leaking grotesque food-water underneath our house and it STINKS. Those are the things that Jason is working on while I sit here writing on the internet, waiting for my doctor to call, or for Jesus to take me home, whichever happens first.

Don't they have any cling wrap or anything?

Kane has informed us that today was a busy day at his school. One kid got suspended for bringing porn to school, another kid had a seizure, and an eighth-grade girl is pregnant.

Kane's day got even busier when I fell into the floor and started having a seizure of my own.

Seriously, this is what we have to deal with now. I imagined that we would have to worry about this stuff when Kane got to high school; I just got shafted out of two years of preparation time. Where "preparation time" stands for "heavy drinking".

I know that this stuff happens; I know that this 13-year-old girl isn't the first thirteen-year-old girl to get pregnant. I KNOW IT. But, just like people imagine that their children will be well-behaved, quiet, contemplative, calm, patient, people imagine that their children won't have sex until they're, I don't know, OLD ENOUGH TO DRIVE TO THE CHEVRON TO BUY CONDOMS. Seriously, that girl can't get her own contraceptives, and now she's pregnant. It's actually the fault of the DMV.

My point is that just as I have come to terms with the fact that my children are going to misbehave, yell, hit, and writhe, I am starting to fear that I will have to come to terms with driving my child's girlfriend to the doctor for prenatal care, since my child won't be old enough to drive her himself. Hell; my child's pregnant girlfriend's PARENTS might not be old enough to drive her there- less and less surprises me.

What I'm saying is that parenting is not for me. Nevermind. I'm returning all three of them tomorrow. Now I just have to find the receipt.

P.S. Kane was just telling us that in his English class they had to write and autobiography including some things they want to do in the future. "By the time I'm thirty I want to be the first man to land on an asteroid and discover a new metal." So I probably don't have to worry about the sex stuff for at least a few more years.

Single-handedly keeping Stayfree in business.

DSC_0104.jpg
Originally uploaded by buffpuff

I haven't been writing enough lately. It has something to do with my INTENSE EXHAUSTION- it causes me to pay less attention to the things that aren't absolutely necessary to make it from getting out of the bed in the morning to getting into the bed at night.

I am now the proud owner of one less baby and one more little boy. It is truly bizarre how much he understands and can communicate on a daily basis. He tells me what makes him sad, what makes him happy, when he's hungry and thirsty, when he's tired. He listens when I'm talking to other people and asks me questions about the stories I tell.

Living with Kane, Jude, and Reed is unlike anything I could have possibly predicted for myself. They are loud, rough, funny, irreverent. Some days it's like living with every male friend and boyfriend I've ever had, except at the end of the day I still want to be around them.

I mean, you know, most of the time.

Anyways, most days I lean heavily on patience, perseverance, Jesus, instinct, and the telephone to make it through.

Last night I actually found myself in bed, reading, and thinking that I couldn't wait until bedtime tonight. I was in my bed, and longing for being in my bed, just 24 hours later. Wrap your head around that one. I just knew that today would be a test, a wonderful day that would start with a lot of candy, so much sugar that Reed would vibrate, and that Jason would be at work all day, that there would be laughter and wonder but many, many fits and tantrums and misunderstandings and impatience. And today was beautiful and affirming and lovely, and long and exhausting.

The first period I had since November is still here, still happening, one month long so far. This is a condition I've been dealing with since I was thirteen years old, and I've been to numerous doctors countless times to try and deal with it. When it flares up like this it is so consuming that it becomes difficult to see past it, to remember that there MIGHT be a time again when I won't have to carry 17 pounds of lady supplies, along with iron pills and ibuprofen, everywhere I go, that the intense and lasting rushing hormones won't control my emotions forever, that one day I will be normal again.

That last one is a real stretch; I think I won't hold my breath.

I'll take the high road, and you take the low road.

So we went out for St. Patrick's Day last night, which was a triumph over the germs and illness and lung crap I've been experiencing for the past week. I have to say that I just can't party like I used to. I mean, I DID party like I used to, but I spent this whole entire day feeling totally obliterated, nauseated and headachy, and it was the antithesis of fun. Last night, however, was the THESIS of fun. There were jello shots and green beer and sequined bow ties and puppies and much needed laughter.

I don't think Reed has pink eye, but something is wrong with him and I'm not sure what. I think maybe the pollen is coming in and it's just affecting him adversely. We'll see.

Today I was off work; tomorrow it's back to the grindstone. Perhaps this incredible hangover will have worn off by then.

Bird flu?

This is what happens...
Originally uploaded by cuttingroomfloor

Bronchitis? I don't know. Whatever it is, it's hanging around for a second week. The fever is gone, as well as that pesky sense that I am just about to die from all the mucus. My nose is only partly stopped up. But my eyes and nostrils still feel hot and fat, and I'm still using my inhaler four or five times a day.

So, all in all, some is, some ain't.

I went to the craft shop one day week-before-last, right before the plague came to my house, and totally loaded up on my favorite polymer clay. I went in thinking, "I'm going to buy one or two new colors to make new stuff for our show." Then it was on sale for much cheaper than normal, and the next thing I knew I had a basket full of stuff. The sad part is, I'm looking at this picture and thinking, "Wait, I didn't get any greens!"

I'm feeling like Jason and I are in the midst of this whirlwind of opportunities and we're grasping at all of them, and waiting to see what we have in our hands once the weather calms down. No matter what happens, it feels good to be striving for something.

Now we're just waiting for tomorrow morning when we can discern whether or not Reed has the pink eye.

It is NEVER boring in this house.

There's a picture opposite me of my primitive ancestry.

I forgot to mention that They Might Be Giants was FANTASTIC. I've seen them once before in Atlanta at the Roxy Theatre, about a million years ago- seven years? Six? I've slept since then, so I don't really know.

Anyway, when I was telling Jason that he must go with me to see them I said, "There will be BALLOONS and CONFETTI. Of course you're going."

We went on Sunday night to Workplay despite Jason's stomach virus and my possible impending stomach virus- Reed threw up a couple of times on Friday and is STILL having diarrhea. My day today started off with my thinking that I might die because my chest is so tight and congested and then having the distinct pleasure of cleaning poop off one of my kitchen chairs. Where it had exploded out of the TOP of the back of the pull-up. Jealous?

Yes, so we went and sort of cautiously started nursing a beer apiece and listened to Oppenheimer who were opening, and we were quite pleased. I laid into a couple more beers and took some pictures and it was nice. Of course they sold out, and we didn't get there until 8:10 when the doors opened at 8:00, for Pete's sakes, so there wasn't any place to sit. But we found a nice place to stand where we could see the stage really well, and I thought about the show at the Roxy where I was about a football field away from the band and thanked life for tiny blessings.

Right before the headliner went on a couple of guys took the stage and started throwing big, foam fingers out into the audience. These were the last pictures I took before a Mrs. Hoss security woman took me outside and told me that only one person was aloud to take professional shots of the band, so I couldn't take any. I used some meditation-style breathing and just kept my mouth shut; Jason took the camera to the car and we went back in just as They Might Be Giants took the stage.

And, just as I promised, there was confetti and balloons. They played a good set list- a nice mix of new songs and old stuff. I have to admit that I don't know that new stuff but I like it. Lincoln, Apollo 18, and Flood are the albums that I know best. They played Birdhouse In Your Soul, and I couldn't stop smiling, I mean my cheeks hurt by the end of it. Then during the encore I leaned up to Jason and said, "Oh, they're going to play Istanbul." He looked at me skeptically and said, "Hm. I don't now; maybe." And then, like clockwork, they closed with Istanbul.

I told Jason after the show that in a way I understand the desire to be unpredictable and to keep moving forward and do new stuff and get appreciation for it. But I've been listening to that band for ten years now, and it's like hugging and old friend to hear them play some of my favorite old songs.

But it's still nowhere near as satisfying as cleaning poop of off my two-year-old's shoulder blades.

Hep meh!

Okay; sorry for my absence. Here's a quick update:

Vomit, diarrhea, bronchitis, oh my! My doctor said, "You know, you've had a hard year." I said, "You don't know the half of it."

We got our tax refund a couple of weeks ago, and as a result livin' has been easy, at least easier than usual for a while. This is the one time of year when the kids have lunch money and the bills get paid and we stop to breathe for just a minute.

Jason and I are showing our photographs, jewelry, and possibly some artwork on April 17 at Speakeasy, and I am awfully excited about it. Now if I can just kick the liquid in my bronchial areas maybe I can actually prepare.

I have a lot of things in store for my jewelry-making, but I might not be listing any of it until after the show. It makes sense to make tons and tons of new stuff and have it there for sale and just hold off on listing things until after. So my Etsy will probably slow down for the next few weeks, but I'll be back in full force on April 18. Or, let's face it, it'll be a few days after that.

I asked Reed this morning how he feels, and he replied, "Well, I feel good." It's nice having a miniature, white James Brown in my house. I hope I'll feel good, too, in a few days.

Five things.

1. I am very much looking forward to a girly night with one of my many bitches this Wednesday night.

2. I am very much looking forward to Officer Nick's birthday party this Saturday night- put a keg, some policemen, at least one police car, two photographers, and the Party Bot all in one location and something odd is sure to happen.

3. I am pooping my pants about seeing They Might Be Giants Sunday night. I didn't even know that they're coming until Jason clued me in last night. Needless to say within five minutes, two tickets were mine.

4. I am hopeful about a trip to Mexico for New Year's Eve this year. The last time Jason and I went on a vacation that lasted more then 2 days and that didn't involve sleeping over at a friend's house was when we went on our honeymoon- four-and-a-half years ago.

5. Upon thinking about this trip to Mexico, I am realizing that Reed will be three years old when we take this trip. I can't really clearly describe the way this makes me feel. It's very surreal, actually, like, there will be this little dude in my house who somehow sprung from the baby my body made. But instead of being my baby, he'll be... a little dude.

And a post script: I have now been at this job for one year. People Who Accuse Me of Stealing Sunglasses, People Who Throw Boxes At Me, People Who Talk To Me Like I'm An Idiot, YOU CANNOT GET ME DOWN. I throw down celebratorily on all your asses.

Reply with a star date and coordinates for rendezvouses.

You are going to have to read this, and just keep reading all the way to the end, all the way through the comments that people left at the bottom. This had me laughing several different times. Here are some of my favorite moments:

this sounds pretty koo

I do not speak Klingon,
How ever I am open to interspecies relationships.
I am starfleet and have a uniform.
I am 6'2 w hazel eyes.
reply with a star date and coordinates for rendezvouses.

I have an hedonistic and somehow artistic point of view about of life, made of perfect scenes, days like music, hours like paintings and sex like pictures.

Just thought I would write because I make a mean roasted turkey...

The lizard king approves of your post and gives it 5 blue buses.

Stormy weather.

Originally uploaded by buffpuff

Last night the ominous, indifferent sound of the sirens woke me up around 3:30 a.m. I tripped over about 7 toys and a couple of odd shoes until I made my way to the living room, where I turned on the television to find red and fuschia flashing patches over maps of my county and my city. Jason and I watched and realized that it was moving quickly towards us, and I actually started to get nervous. Jason was due at work at 4 a.m., so he left for work during the calm before the storm; all was quiet, and he said everything would be fine.

About two minutes after he left, the house was surrounded by an intense whirring noise, which I finally figured out was "just the wind". Next came heavy rain and hail, and anything that wasn't tied down around the house was flying about, knocking up against the outside walls. The cable went out, so no more weather updates on the news. I sat on the futon holding a flashlight and my cell phone and waited- for something to happen, for a gut feeling that I needed to wake up all the kids and hustle them into the bathroom, for the urge to poop. I called my mom and her power was out but she said that the worst had already passed and it would probably pass us in the next couple of minutes. We got off the phone and I waited and sure enough, minute by minute the wind and rain got quieter. The hail stopped.

By 4:30 I was falling asleep to the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof, not realizing how bad the damage would be, not realizing that all around us people would be cleaning garbage and limbs and pieces of their own homes and lives out of their yards, not realizing just how lucky we are.


This morning the air around us smells intensely like a sawmill, so much so that it's turning my stomach a little bit. The police have our street blocked off to try and divert some of the traffic that's coming through just to get a look at the worst of the damage. The kids are home, the schools closed. I think a lot of people are still without power; ours never even went off. And right in the middle of all the bad luck, the complaining I've done, I am reminded that it can always get worse. Today I'm thankful to have a roof, a heater that works, little sweet people around me, and a husband who can drive from Leeds to Mountain Brook in the middle of a really awful storm unscathed.

Love, Buffy.

Coming home from a trip is always depressing for me; I'm not really sure, maybe it's the end of something I've looked forward to, or having to leave the people I've been dying to see, or going back to work, or going back to a stinky catbox and moldy leftovers in the fridge. Whatever it is, it's the way it's always been.

Today I'm particularly overwhelmed; I'm not afraid to reveal that I am having the first period I've had since the beginning of November. It has been a while, and the intense rush of hormones is really hitting me hard tonight. The melancholy and fear and loneliness and just the absolute ache, it's like a large blunt object hitting me in the back of my head from inside my stomach.

It's a bad night for the Oscars, and YES, the Oscars should always be planned around my menstrual cycles, because every speech and every look and all the subject matter is just keeping me in tears and I'm running out of tissues.

I've always been a movie-watcher, a person who enjoys films- comedies, tragedies, documentaries, musicals, cartoons, whatever there is. There was a time when I knew a lot about film, the making of, the content of, the best actors and best performances. I am no longer so much in the know. Since I had Reed I have been, shall we say, emotional, and it makes me avoid things that bring too much to the surface. Really, the sadness or fear or regret that a good movie brings out in me will last days, sometimes weeks, and I've found myself in a place where I just don't even pay attention to what's coming out and what's on dvd and what's nominated and who's a hopeful, if only as a defense mechanism. I'm too afraid, really, of what I might feel and how long it might take to go away to get involved. It's sad, because when I was invited to join an Oscar pool I realized that I hadn't seen a single film that had been nominated in any category this year. While it's true that the pool was about guesses, whether educated or not, and I was welcome to join in and give my best guess regardless, it's still sad to think how much good shit I'm missing. I mean, I'm thoroughly aware that I chose not to see the movies, that this isn't something that is being done to me or something that is just happening to me, but it's still all sad.

In other words, I'd be sad if I was watching them, and now I'm sad that I'm not watching them.

Right now someone needs to be handing Jason a medal for staying married to me.

Anyway, I decided that I would write the Oscar speech that I will give if ever I win one. I mean, with all those speeches about not giving up and never recognizing the impossible, I am realizing that I could one day win an Oscar in any one of the many categories. So I decided to think about what I'd like to say.

Thank you to the Academy for recognizing my intense dedication to my craft. This Oscar for Best Jokes Ever/Most Stylish, Affordable, and Unique Jewelry Ever/Best Most Serious Actress/Best Friend/Most Attention to the Picking Up of Socks/Best On-Set Cheerleader/Best Keep-Your-Drinks-Full Lady really means so much, because it reinforces my deep love of actors, movies, entertainment, and the art of getting away from it all (thank you, Jack Nicholson).

Thank you to my husband for being able to deal with it all, for taking care of my children when I can't, and for being so supportive, attentive, unwavering, trustworthy, and so different from every other man I've ever spent any time with.

Thank you to all the other people in the film- Johnny Depp, Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Çasey Affleck, I love you all. I'm sorry that I can't say yes to all of your lovely, heartfelt marriage proposals, but Jason Agan is a sexy motherfucker, too hot for words really, but just in case he ever wises up and leaves me I'll keep your numbers so I can call you and cry and read you haikus that I wrote for Jason that he won't respond to when I send them to him on Myspace.

Thank you to Russell Means, Sherman Alexie, John Kennedy Toole, and Kurt Vonnegut for writing that makes me at once so sorrowful and joyous that it has inspired me to keep living, if only to see if maybe life is as interesting, as heart-breaking, as unforgiving and callous, as rewarding as you all make it out to be.

Thank you, finally, to God and my mother for bringing me into this world that is so terrifying, horrifying, beautiful, and odd, but bringing me into a particular place where I am not in the middle of a war, not physically or mentally abused, not afraid for my life (in an immediate sense), not homeless, not alone, not forsaken. Thank you both for giving me this life in which I am surrounded by these crazy, ridiculous people who love me and take care of me, without whom I would be so lost, so lonely, so abjectly pointless, that I would have to just bash myself on the head with this Oscar and get it over with. Thank you for bringing me into a world where there is a Reed to talk to me about playing guitar with his pick, where there is an Aunt CJ and an Uncle Rog to laugh with me and remind me why life should be celebrated and to teach me how to make a latte, where there is a Kristi to come home to even if I have to wait a few days because she's in law school WHAT AN EXCUSE, where there are beaches and big water and sand and family and parties and dancing. AND DANCING.

Thank you, Nick Agan, for not ripping my arms out of their sockets. This has allowed me to keep writing, keep typing, and keep picking my nose at red lights.

And thank you, True Baker, for just letting me know that there exists a seven-foot-tall, John Kennedy, Jr. look-alike who is sweet and loves his mother and asks me to dance. You may not be quite as sexy as my tattooed, red-headed husband, but that's an awful lot to live up to, especially with all that equine-vetting you have to do, and I will definitely recommend you to all of my friends.

The bayou, Aunt CJ, the Jimmy I never knew, and a wedding tomorrow.

Tonight has been a night of telling tales, reliving old times, relating more recent ones, and just plain, old making shit up. Maybe not making shit up, but wondering if we were.

I feel a lot like this life is a really, awfully hard one, for everybody really, and there are stories and moments and memories and just things imagined that break my heart.

Tonight Jason is asleep like a baby, deeper and more sound than I've seen him in a long time, goosedown and a kitty named Elliott singing his lullaby.

I'm sleeping on a bayou tonight, and the air is thick with things untold and things waiting to happen.

Mama, I love you and I'm sorry that your life is so hard. I hope that the things I've done to make it harder haven't been too much to bear. I hope that the good things I've brought to you have been enough to make you happy that I'm here. I hope that you can get past all the things that have made you sad, all your gut-wrenching disappointments, to find joy in guitars, picks, footballs and xylophones.

Tonight I go to bed waiting for Biddy to tell me that everything is going to be okay. I know that it probably will be, but it's nice when a dead person takes the time to tell you.

I would like some wine with this cheese.

So on Sunday Kane and Jude's bikes were stolen. They were on the carport, chained to a post with a titanium bicycle chain. It was midday, and I was at home. No shit- someone apparently came up and cut through the "impenetrable" titanium chain and hauled off two medium-sized trick bikes in broad daylight, while I was in my bed complaining about all the aches and snot.

Jason came home and was like, "Do you know where the kids' bikes are?" I was like, "NO. But I know where the FLU is. RIGHT HERE, BUDDY." But don't worry; then my indignation set in.

My flu-induced stupor kept me from encouraging Jason to call the police and file a report until he came home from work last night telling me about seeing some 15-year-old kid riding Kane's bike around just a mile or two away from here. Finally I was like, "Wait a minute! Before you go beat up a minor, how 'bout we call the cops?" Of course Jude was raring to go with Jason looking for this kid, and I let Jude know that if his dad was going to go abuse a child, he would have to stay at home. (He moped.)

So the policeman came over and got all the information from Jason; the entire time they were on the front porch talking, Jude was standing at the front door staring out with little hearts bubbling up above his head.

Reed heard Jason talking and asked what he was doing. I said, "He's outside, talking to a policeman." Reed thought about it for a minute and then exclaimed, "EWWWWWWWWW, NASTY!!"

So the policeman said the description sounded like someone they had busted several times stealing bikes, and said he'd call us if they found anything. We haven't heard back yet. It IS kind of sad, though; they haven't had the bikes for long, and they were kind of expensive. Plus, it's the SECOND time Kane's has been stolen.

For Pete's sake, we really need a break around here.

Scratch, scratch, scritch scratch.

So last night, totally exhausted, Jason and I snuggled up in bed around ten. Jason wasn't in the best mood because I had nagged him to fold a load of jeans while I washed the dinner dishes, so when we started hearing the scampering, scraping and scratching above our heads he wasn't happy.

I've mentioned the squirrels fucking in our ceiling; last night they weren't so much fucking as squirreling- scratching about, making noises, just generally making angry the man of the house. Jason got up and banged on the ceiling a few good times, which did nothing whatsoever. He went poking about and stepped into our closet to have a listen from there; he said, "Buffy. Come here."

I stepped into the closet and followed his pointing finger to discover a little hole in the ceiling, a little place where something had popped or scratched or scraped through the popcorn.

I have to tell you, I NEARLY SHAT MYSELF. Now I can't stop thinking about squirrels and rodents and RABIES, RABIES, people. It has made it's way into the house!! It has GUTS and GUMPTION and I will run away if I see it. Jason jammed a small suitcase underneath it so whatever has been poking its rabies-laden nose through there can do so no longer, but now I'm thinking, it'll just do it again! Next thing I know there will be little holes everywhere in the ceiling, with little noses and eyes poking through! GROSS. SCARY. I mean, what we heard last night was likely the sounds of the next hole, the next stop on the way to Buffy's insanity.

It's a short trip.

I think I'm turning orange.

I finally managed to get some new things up on Etsy tonight, and I'm feeling pretty good about it. I got a request to make some earrings to match one of my pendants; hopefully I'll be able to work on that tomorrow night.

I'm fighting tooth and nail to not be a sick person; I take a multivitamin and a B complex every day already. Now I'm taking an extra C tablet, and using Airborne three times a day. And still my throat hurts, and my chest feels tight and sore.

I really, really don't want to be sick. This Friday will mark the end of a week in Hell at my job, and it will be the birthday of one of my favorite girls in the world. Also Jason and I are miraculously both off work on Saturday which never happens, so Friday will be the perfect night to go out and celebrate IF I can just not be sick.

Don'tbesickdon'tbesickdon'tbesick.

The good things in life are free.

I know that I've been writing a lot about the bad things lately, and I'm glad that you have been sticking with me through all of it. I decided it might be good for all of us if I made note of some of the good things.

- I've been making a lot of pretty jewelry these days. I haven't had a chance to post it on Etsy yet, but I'm sure I'll get to it in the next few days.

- Kane, Jude, and Jason are on the mend. I think Kane and Jude will go back to school tomorrow, and Jason is off work tomorrow so he still has one more day to rest and recuperate.

- I haven't gotten fired.

- At the very heart of it, when I can get away from the absolute insanity that is my job, I really like the actual work that I'm doing. It's creative and intense and never, never dull.

- People read this blog and comment.

- Jesus is listening.

- I have not been buying anything off of eBay. Apparently I make jokes that are SO awesome, people don't get it.

- Sometimes I sleep for, like, eight hours at a time.

- I eat breakfast almost every day.

-Reed and I haven't gotten the flu.

- My family and friends are sweet and caring and funny and concerned and fun and I have fun when I'm with them.

- My husband is smokin' hot. Even with all the snot and body aches and coughing.

- My two-year-old child told me today that I'm pretty. I might not always agree with him, but I know that I'm trying to be pretty. And at least I am to him.

Clorox wipes- check. Vitamin C- check. Large bottle of vodka- check.

It really only gets better and better around here. I'm entering a time of year at my job, a period of a couple of weeks in which everyone I work with goes totally bonkers, stiff with dread. I've gotten a lot of advice over the past few days since this is my first time to attempt to traverse the insanity at this establishment during the Valentine's day season. I've been told to eat my Wheaties, take my vitamins, bring snacks, pack a flask, duck and cover- the list goes on and on. We've been givin several sheets of typed instructions, flat and black, ominous on the paper, on what to ask and inform every single person we talk to on the phone.

Given the seriousness, the absolute terror this season inspires, my boss rather matter-of-factly told me that regarding my children I need to make sure I "make other arrangements" for the next couple of weeks. She was referring to the fact that any time one of them is sick, I call in to work and stay home with them. If Jason is off work, he stays with them, and sometimes my mom stays home from work with them, but usually it is I. I don't ever expect to find a job where they tell me "you know it's really fine for you to call in any time you want to", but I also really don't know what other options we have when it comes to sick children. I mean, Kane is almost 12, so pretty soon he'll be old enough to stay home alone. But Jude is 8 and Reed is 2; they just might still need some supervision.

Nonetheless, I've been told to make other arrangements. OH BUT GUESS WHAT? Jason, Kane, and Jude all have the flu! The absolute motherfucking influenza! It's great news, right? Now yesterday I went all over the house Clorox-wiping in hopes that Reed, Jason, and I might not catch what Kane and Jude have; Jason came down with it, Reed appears to be okay, and I've been nauseated, nasally, hot-eyed, and slightly sore-throated all day. The only good news is that I've been feeling mildly like this for about a week-and-a-half now, so maybe it won't go any further than this.

In other news, I chose all of this. I totally forgot that I ordered postpartum depression off of eBay for $17.34 plus shipping. Damn! I missed the 7 day return period, too, as I purchased it in December 2005. Stupid, stupid me.

Working together.

Mm, fighting with Kane and Jude's mom about whether or not she's going to grow up and take care of her kids every now and then is just so refreshing. I was going to write out the entire exchange, but suffice it to say that she wants to let us do all the work even though we each actually work 40 hours a week AT JOBS, and then take care of three children; the fact that we worry about bus schedules, field trips, lunch money, homework, and clean underwear with absolutely no financial assistance from her isn't enough. She also feels like if the kids are sick we should be calling in to take them to the doctor and feed them chicken soup. While she sits at home and smokes cigarettes and buys cars.

Nice, huh?

I was thinking today that I'm ready for a new tattoo, and I'd like to find something lovely that somehow represents my most recent resolution- that I'm going to start letting people know if they're hurting my feelings or wronging me in some way. And then it hit me- I just need a big tattoo of a bird. Right on my forehead. Obviously I'm not talking about Tweety here; I need a good old-fashioned, long, skinny, erect middle finger right in the middle of my head.

Because, really, it would save me so much time, breath, and energy to be able to just show people what I'm thinking in the first place.

Happy birthday, Steph!

Originally uploaded by cuttingroomfloor

Way late, but late is better than never.

I've been "written up" for being late to work, because the mornings are so unpredicable so I'm late to work sometimes.

Then this morning, I got a nice, fat speeding ticket trying to hurry to work. The sad part is that I would have been on time if I hadn't gotten pulled over.

Stupid, inconvenient policemen.

I made my first sale on Etsy, and I have some serious awesomeness that I'm working on to post on my store some time in the next couple of days. I have high hopes.

Our finances are totally in the shitter, but my marriage has really been enjoying some good times lately. I'm not perfect, but I'm working on it; I think Jason enjoys watching the process.

To all of you who have been saying nice things to me, sending me sweet messages and calling me and spending time with my defective ass, I love you. The people who surround me right now are the best I've ever had. I've never felt so supported, so cared for, so loved in my entire life. Y'all just brace yourselves; it's either going to get so much better or so much worse from here- and either way I will react with a lot of yelling, spanking, hugging and drinking.

To the folks I know who are waiting for me to break, who are banking on my downfall, I hope one day you get a life. This one isn't yours, and it ain't going no where.