"Don't think the sun's comin' out today; it's staying in. It's gonna find a better way."

I think we really have to be out of our house in the next couple of weeks. This whole time I've been telling myself it's not that big of a deal, at least we're all healthy (if we don't count my being an absolute crazy person), at least we're surviving, etc.

I'm suddenly realizing how sad it is. We've lived here for three years now. It's the first house Reed ever lived in, the house we brought him home to. It's the house that Kane and Jude moved into with us. It's the first house that Jason and I moved into together. It's the first yard we've ever shared, the first yard that we watched Reed play in, the first porch we've ever had to spend time with our friends on.

In this house I've watched Reed grow from a teeny baby to a little boy. It is at once terrifying and beautiful and gut-wrenching and awe-inspiring, watching this person grow and learn and change, remembering that I grew him inside me and he was once a tadpole and now he runs and plays and laughs. In this house he learned to make jokes and share with his brothers (sometimes) and pick himself up after he falls.

In this house I have watched Kane grow into an adolescent, turn from a kid who watches cartoons into a near-teenager who... watches cartoons- just different cartoons. He's growing into a young man who likes to help me around the house and likes to watch his youngest brother and likes to help him learn and grow.

In this house I have watched Jude's continued evolution into a middle child, a kid who is too young to be a grown-up and too big to be a baby. He continues to amaze me with his ability to be a complete badass, to be like hanging out with one of my friends (Brock, I'm looking at you- argumentative, difficult, challenging, entirely too smart, physically dangerous).

In this house I've watched my marriage grow into something that I know with every particle of my being that I cannot live without. I've been reminded over and over again how much I need Jason, want him, respect him. I've felt myself continue to grow into a person who will never be at the center of her own universe again, to enjoy that separation from myself, to enjoy the people who have taken the place in the center. I've hoped and strived to fill the roles that I've made for myself here with these four other people. I've hoped and strived to be able to continue playing some part in the lives of the people who don't live here with me, the people who I count on to be there when I'm scared or lost, my extended family, my very best friends who I love so much.

And now we have to move and I'm just a little heart-broken about it. We'll make new memories one day in a new place and at least we have each other and thank goodness my mom is here for us and all that, but it's still hitting me kind of hard. I'm sure I'll get over it. It just takes a few hours to get myself back out of the center again.

Summer lovin'.

Summer is almost over around here in Alabama; usually we're still baking down here, but it has been uncharacteristically cool. Today has been grey, rainy, and dare I say chilly.

We are inching up on the two-year birthday of this blog, as well as my 365th post, which really just means that pretty soon if you start reading my blog you could read one post per day and it would take you one year to read the whole thing. Of course, that will only last for one day; as soon as I make my 366th post it will take you 366 days to read it.

You can see how much time I have on my hands these days.

In other news, I have just finished cleaning a poop log out of the bath tub. This is why you have kids, folks: because without them, you don't get to clean up nearly enough poop. Unless you have Myrna Minkoff. She provides poop to clean up as well.

"buffy agan blog leeds"

So it's been a while, but I thought I'd mention that I called Mark A. Dutton on August 1st (in reference to all of this). It was a very interesting conversation: turns out that he wasn't leaving those comments. He was, shall we say, nonplussed. We had a long talk about my blog and who might want to leave such bizarre comments. Did you know that it is a CRIME to sling around legal advice when you aren't a lawyer? Did you know that what so-and-so did there- not only pretending to be a lawyer but pretending to be a PARTICULAR lawyer- could constitute identity theft, and certainly constitutes fraud?

Anyways, Mr. Dutton was very happy that I brought it all to his attention. I have no idea if he intends to do anything about it, but I know that he can if he wants to.

In similar news, HELLO IP NUMBER 68.185.251.116! How are you out there in Pelham, Alabama? How is Charter Communications treating you? Do you enjoy using Internet Explorer on your Windows Vista system? Did you catch Lindsey's comment after all those comments that you left as Mark A. Dutton, specifically:

Every modem is assigned a unique number by their ISP. Blogger, in their infinite wisdom and foresight, God bless 'em, automatically and without fail logs each and every IP address associated with every single comment left on this or any other Blogger/Blogspot blog. Utilizing your IP address, which is freely provided to the blog owner by Blogger, the public at large is able to utilize the common knowledge reverse IP look up process in order to pinpoint just who, exactly, is leaving these comments, right down to something as minuscule and specific as their area code.

THE INTERNET IS NOT AN ANONYMOUS PLACE, PEOPLE. People seem to think they can do anything they want, such as impersonating a lawyer, and no one will ever know. People can see when you look at their web pages like you did this morning at 8:31 am right after you got the kids off to school, like you did at 10:03 pm last night right after you got the kids to bed. Does your wife know what you've been doing, or are y'all in on this together? Because you know, should we ever end up in court, this is like a freakin' GOLD MINE for our case.

To the rest of you, I love you guys and thank you for putting with up with all this crap. CRAP ON A BLOG. That's new, right?

To Pelham, enjoy searching "buffy agan blog leeds" and "buffy jason agan blog leeds" on Yahoo Search over and over again. Thank you so much for your support.

08.08.08

Stephanie,

You are one of the nicest, free-est, most sincere people I've ever known. You are a person who has actually inspired me to send a text that says, "Ooo, you're like the sun: chasing all the rain away." You have never hesitated to love me no matter what. You have never passed judgement on me. You have never made me feel like I might do something to make you love me less.

Oh, Steph, where do I start with you? When we threw bottles off of the fire escape at Watts? Skinny dipping at Green Valley? Showing our boobs for beers? Playing guitar and having sing-alongs on the beach in Pensacola? Or the billion other sing-alongs that we had a billion other places? Drinking games, hangovers, coffee, dinner, shopping, guitars, keyboards, snakes, kitties, mice?

Stephanie, getting married is a big deal; it works for some people and for others it doesn't. What I hope for you is that you've found a man who supports all of your dreams and quirkiness. I hope that he can give you the kind of life that will allow you to flourish, to really be. I hope that you cook dinner together every night with vegetables from your garden, that there is a vase of flowers from your yard on the table, and that one day there will be a crib with a tiny, wriggling little thing in it that you and James gaze lovingly at before you mix your evening cocktail.

And for the reality portion of this post: this is going to be very hard. You are going to have moments where you wonder who James is, wonder who you are, wonder where your brain was when you decided being married was a good idea. If there ever is a wriggling little thing you are going to wonder how you got that one, that one that cries and screams and says "no" and says "oh fuckin' damnit" and throws things and poops on the bathmat.

Wait, that's my life. Nevermind. Yours is going to be rosy and calm and I will be jealous forever. But if it ever should resemble mine, remember that you can call me and we can talk about it. I am imperfect as a woman, wife, friend, and mother, but I try very hard, and one thing that I can do well is listen. We can talk about the weather, or what we're making for dinner, or what makes us want to make our husbands sleep in the back yard while we quietly change the locks. Whatever you want. Because I have rain in my life, too, and you do chase all the rain away.

"Never had a care, just a livin' for the minute."

Yesterday I watched a Lifetime movie called Julie Johnson, starring Courtney Love and Lili Taylor. Lili Taylor is stupid and then she yearns and then she's gay and then she's smart and then she's lonely and then she's smart some more. AND ALSO THERE'S COURTNEY LOVE. Being gay with Lili Taylor. At one point I yelled, "They're making out!" and Jason trotted in from the other room just to take a gander.

Today I caught myself driving down the road singing "Way Down Yonder on the Chattahoochee". Singing along and knowing all the words made me, A) wish I was down on the river on a Friday night (self, I know thee not) and, B) remember fondly my teenage years. Not that I was down on the river on Friday nights then, but I knew that song then.

People, I cannot stress this enough: I NEED A JOB. To top it all off, I think this video is hilarious. Bitches.

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

Finally, let's end this one with a heart-warming smile.

I'll have to remind Jason to shave...

I believe old Mark admitted defeat- he hasn't been back in a few days and things have quieted down. The human tendency towards lunacy never ceases to amaze me.

Kane and Jude's mom sheepishly accepting her first child support payment last Friday. Now we wait for the next time she decides to start threatening to sue for backed child support. Mark my words: it will happen again.

From what I understand they've been counting change over there; I do sympathize, as we've been in hard times of our own. Then again, we didn't move into an apartment we couldn't afford and buy a series of brand new cars including two sports cars and ending with a four-door Jeep that surely guzzles gas.

When the kids' step-dad called Jason at work a few weeks ago and ranted about everything under the sun, he included how much better of a provider he is for the kids, adding that Kane and Jude each have their own bedroom and their own cable tv at his house. I wonder how that's working out for him now? I'd like to add that Jason, God love 'im, immediately replied that he doesn't agree with them having televisions in their bedrooms. We limit the kids' tv-watching over here because we feel like it's better for their brains to, I don't know, play, and interact, ride bikes and ride skateboards and read- you know, all the old-fashioned, Amish-type stuff.

Anyhow, Reed still breaks my heart every day saying things like, "I miss Kane and Jude. Kane and Jude miss me. Can we go get them now?"

Lipstick has their August issue on the website now, but sadly they don't seem to include all the content from the magazine on the web. I DO have an article and some jewelry in the magazine; I can mail you a copy of you're out of Birmingham and want to take a look. Just drop me a line and let me know.

Life goes on, and I'm trying to keep up. I've been making loads of jewelry; I hope to have twenty or thirty new pieces up in the next few days. Jason and I are photographing a wedding this Friday, as well as making the groom's cake and being a bridesmaid. You can figure out which of us is doing what. Jason does look good in a dress.

I must have imagined my graduation in '97. And the subsequent college graduation in 2004.

I don't know if you've been keeping up with this, but it's really very interesting. I have a feeling that I and my ilk have inflicted so many fierce burns that he won't be back. However, you never can tell- it's my understanding that sometimes "Mark" goes off his meds, so there could be more to come. Stay tuned!

If you haven't checked out my Etsy lately, but I have lots of new things that I've just listed in the past couple of weeks. I sold something last night to someone in Tel Aviv- apparently the word is spreading far and wide.

The Lipstick Magazine with my article and my jewelry has come out and it's awfully exciting. Unfortunately they don't have the new issue on their website yet so I can't link it, but I will as soon as I can.

My good friend Lindsey has offered to help me redesign this blog, and I'm really excited about it. LINDSEY, I'M HOLDING YOU TO IT. So you might see some changes in the next few weeks.

This week brings more jewelry-making, job-hunting, and house-cleaning. I'M SO HOT ABOUT IT- especially since I have to accomplish all this without even the help of a GED. Man, I should have finished high school.

And finally, my poor deprived baby: he doesn't have his GED either.

It's okay to try again.

When I was a kid I was scared of the dark. Okay, I am still scared of the dark. But when I was a kid that meant sleeping with my parents. I slept with my parents much, much longer than is appropriate for any child; my mom would try and come and sleep with me in my room, but I would wake up in the night alone and go crawl into bed with her. They had a queen size bed and it could be a tight squeeze with my dad, my mom, and myself. I'm sure it was super for their marriage, having a huge wiggling nine-year-old desperate to sleep with them all the time. I remember at some point telling them that it sure was crowded, and when I got married they were really going to have to buy a bigger bed- true story. HA HA HA.

Eventually my parents divorced, and it was much more comfortable in that bed with just my mom and me in it. Now with the foreclosure and all of our financial problems we are moving into my mom's house, that same house that I grew up in. As it turns out, my mom is going to take a different bedroom and Jason and I are moving into the master bedroom. It just feels funny that I will be once again sleeping in that same room, the room where I felt safest for all those childhood years. I sure hope that I feel as safe there now.

Yesterday we met with our lawyer and then had a celebratory, take-a-deep-breath-and-stop-worrying lunch at the local Mexican restaurant. We are still trying to get things straightened out with Kane and Jude's mom. Jason made the decision that the kids could move back in with her and we'd go back to the original custody agreement, which is what she asked for. She rewarded us by threatening to sue for backed child support for the years when the kids lived with us, the years when we were doing homework and sending lunch money and field trip money and attending parent-teacher conferences. The saddest part is that I predicted this years ago, and here it is. Thanks for being predictable. It will be so satisfying for me to revel in my rightness while living in my cardboard box.

I still don't know what's happening with the house- if the foreclosure if definite or if there are options. There has been so much going on over the past few weeks that I haven't been very good at staying on top of things, at following through. So I just don't know.

Reed is just amazing. He woke up this morning and told me that he dreamed about going to the beach, going to the ocean. He wakes up smiling almost every day, and even though the day goes on to present fits and fights and disagreements and floor-writhing, that moment when I first peer into his crib and he looks up at me and smiles is magic. He told me yesterday in the car, "I love Kane and Jude. Jude always talks to me. But they at they mommy's house." I almost cried.

These days have been marathons, racing to get to the end of the day without bursting into tears. Some days I win, and some days I lose. I have been listening to this song a lot, because it makes me feel better.

Hot potato, hot potato.

Man, oh man. I don't think my fingers could even manage to type all the stuff that has been going on today. Let's just say, Courtroom, here we come. We're being harassed now via text message by Jason's ex-wife, and she's slinging around transparent threats and expecting us to start giving her tons of money for absolutely no reason. I can't really think of much to say besides something I said here about two weeks ago: When you figure out how to squeeze blood from a turnip, please let me in on your technique. I'm nearly certain that she reads this- everyone wave hi!

Job-hunting, jewelry-making, photography-planning, blog-writing, child-rearing. That about sums it up. I'm going to try very hard to have some interesting things to say here; right now I'm absolutely void of anything to type besides bad words.

The scariest thing I've ever seen:

From this Mental Floss article. You really should read it and check out the videos. I'm going to go hide in the closet with a bottle of gin and a shovel.

Thanks, Lindsey.

To do:

- Deposit our stimulus check which was as slow as Christmas getting here, but will probably be gone by the end of the week.

- Laundry, housework, etc.

- Decide what to wear for an interview tomorrow for a job that is literally about four minutes away from where I live.

- Start picking out my scooter for when I have said job and can drive a scooter to work. Also choose matching helmet.

- Start brainstorming a good gang name for when Jason and I both have scooters and ride them around. Shop for leather jackets to have gang name embroidered on.

I wave my arms, and swing my baton.

This last week, these last seven days, have been the hardest of my life. I do not exaggerate; I have never persevered so much rage, doubt, humiliation, self-hatred, sadness, impotence, and fear emanating from my own body in the entire 29 years of my existence as in this past week.

Now that this week is behind me I am ready to move on. Jason and I have all kinds of exciting ideas about vacations and jobs and loving each other. We are enjoying each other in ways that we have neglected for a long time (get your minds out of the gutter, kids), and I think if we can just focus on how important we are to each other, all the other bad stuff in our lives will seem less important by comparison.

My jewelry is officially for sale at Soca in downtown Homewood, and I'm working with Happi and hope to have my things for sale there as well. We're barreling towards August, when my jewelry will be featured in Lipstick Magazine, along with a nice article that I wrote about the fourth annual Birmingham Chicks Rockfest. Good things are happening, people.

Finally, an addendum to my prayer that I posted here a few weeks ago:

Please God, help me to be tactful, graceful, to remember who I am. Help me to hear Gordy Ramey saying it when I get lost. Help me to refrain from choking any bitches to within an inch of their lives. Help me to remember why it would be a bad idea to go to them with pictures of my children and ask them how much they enjoy toying with their happiness. Help me to be a lady, a sane lady, something with which I have absolutely no experience. Help me to take an awful situation and find and make the best use of all the good things that can come from it. Please God, help me to let it go like so much water off a duck's back. Help me to be sure, to stop questioning, to move forward hard and fast. Help me to start writing again at a time when all I can think to write about are things that I refuse to write about.

And God, please help my husband to remember that I am a crazy person, have always been a crazy person, was a crazy person when he met me. Help him to remember that I've never stopped loving him, even when I am at my most intolerable. What I'm saying is YOU'VE BOUGHT THE COW. NOW YOU HAVE TO LIE DOWN WITH IT IN YOUR MADE BED. What? Yes, that's what I mean.

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

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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.

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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?

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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.