Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Fowl play

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking: Hey look at that, she's doing a mid day post! Could this mean she wont be posting at 3am when all sensible adults are asleep in their beds because she's going to sleep at a normal hour?

Fat chance. I just wanted to write early, plain and simple.

Im sure theres a few of you going 'Well DAMN, what am I supposed to read when I wake up in the middle of the night or am sitting on the pot in the morning if she's posting NOW and not while Im blissfully unconscious?? She's throwing off my morning routine!'

And I feel so incredibly awful about this because you know, y'all are all so gosh darn loyal readers that you follow my every post and leave me amazing comments of encouragement.

Can you hear the sarcasm? Its DEAFENING. Its ok though. I know who y'all are. All 50+ of you that click on my links while you do your morning rituals for a little laugh. On the other hand theres my 5 registered followers. Maybe I should just treat them to cake, unicorns, and rainbows. Take that Anonymous viewers! Cake! Unicorns! AND Rainbows!

Speaking of chickens. Thats whats for dinner. Yesterday one of my fellow bloggers and highly talented friends posted about how grossed out she was with the whole chicken she was cleaning and trussing for dinner. She thought it felt like a small naked child. I thought that was putting it mildly. I've always thought it felt more like it was a cold naked dead baby. Try getting THAT image when you're 8 months pregnant with a child that hasn't allowed you to keep much down. While I was sobbing about how I just COULDN'T carve up the poor naked baby because id KILL it...I let it fall to the ground.

I never said it was a rational thought.

That was a little over 8 years ago. Ever since then I have had someone else carve up the chicken and/or dress it. For the most part I just kept a whole chicken in the fridge hoping I could casually ask a guest cut it up. Other times I bribed/threatened people.

Lately, for obvious reasons, there hasn't been anyone readily available to take care of the chicken slaughter. I was staring at the cold bagged little bodies at the commissary a few weeks ago when I decided I needed to get over my fear of dead whole chickens. It helped that this commissary doesn't carry rotisserie chickens, they were out of chicken breasts, and the butcher denied my request to cut it up for me. I didn't think it would be wise to bribe and/or threaten him. Just to make me that much more determined to get over the whole morbidity of a whole chicken, I bought two.

Needless to say, because I am so a-fucking-mazing...the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd attempts at roasted chicken were spectacular. It also goes without saying that Iris generally requests this often now. What is it with kids and repetitive menus??
I gag and get goosebumps (or should I say chicken bumps? ug...) most of the time I am washing the infant sized things and I still only use tongs to clear out and dry the cavity, but it gets done.
Today I was prepping a chicken for the oven before I leave to the gym (no I dont leave the oven on when im gone, the Ex is here with the kids. He monitors) when Aeva sauntered in.

Aeva: Momma, I want some more grapes; WHOA!! Whats dat!?
Me: Its a bird.
Aeva: A BIRD?!
Me: (*shiver* CRAP. Why did I just say that?! That makes it worse!) I mean, its a chicken.
Aeva: A...chicken?? WOW! Dats cool! Its a BIRD, its a CHICKEN!
Me: Its a chicken.
Aeva: Its a DOG!
Me: (still trying to get done shoving napkins up the chicken's wazoo) Its a chicken.
Aeva: Its a SHEEP!

Iris walks in to see the commotion. Lately she's becoming a little attached to me. I dont want to think what this means nor why its happening in this precise moment in life. It can wait. It makes her a little jealous of Aeva which is why she is prompted to be so cuddly towards me. She's always been a daddy's girl so I am pleasantly surprised albiet taken aback most times.

Iris: Momma, I love you so VERY much. Can I have a hug and a kiss?

My ever oblivious child, she hasn't realized Im wrist deep in a fowl. Ug. Theres just no good way to say these things.

Me: And I love you but can it wait or would you like a dose of salmonella?
Iris: (backing away) Ill...wait...
Aeva: ITS A BIRD! (No she doesn't skip a beat)
Me: Its. A. Chicken. (Losing patience here. I cannot get over the gross feeling of pulling thread tight around raw chicken skin)
Aeva: Its an ELEPHANT! "PBRRRRWWWWW!!!!" (thats her imitation of an elephant trumpeting and my poor ability to phonetically spell it. For emphasis she signed the word elephant, using her arm as her imaginary trunk)

This. This right here is what makes even this incredibly disgusting cooking requirement survivable. Covered in chicken guts and having trouble swallowing without a threat of upchucking, both my kids still want to hug me, love me, and make me laugh till I cry.

That and the AMAZING smell emanating from the kitchen.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Indecent exposure

I may just be able to learn from my own mistakes ladies and gents.

I am coming to the realization that I have a knack for embarrassing myself with how I dress..or as yesterday was the case, DONT dress. I also have a bad habit of locking myself out by means of leaving/losing my IDs. On this base, you must have your military ID in order to get in through the gate. If you dont have your Mil ID, then you can stop at the Guest Center outside the gate and use your drivers license to get a pass.

But of course if I dont have my Mil ID, chances are good that I also dont have my drivers license. As of late I cant even FIND my drivers license. What does this mean? It means Im quite screwed.

The first time I left my wallet at home was on a morning that I was running late to drop Iris off at school. I jumped out of bed, wrapped Aeva up in a blanket and sped out the gate and down the street. Coming back I realized my oversight and thought I could sweeten up the gate guard into letting me back in since they see me EVERY single weekday. I know two spouses who get waved in, I should be able to get waved in too right?

Couldn't be any more wrong. I was turned away and directed to the Guest Center.

Let me paint you a picture. I was wearing pink PJ pants with white polka dots and the Air Force PT shirt I had slept in. Because I had literally RUSHED out of the house...I was also sans a bra. I was at least coherent enough to slip into my pink fuzzy slippers (I have been known to drive stick barefoot). My hair was in its usual messy bun only it never looks as cute as it does on other women. My hair likes to be impossible. I threaten it with shaving it off but then my face tells me Id have worse problems in the mirror if I did that.

I found a sweatshirt in the trunk so I at least averted the braless embarrassment but when I get one stroke of good luck I just KNOW something else is coming. The tiny Guest Center was crowded with contrators awaiting passes when I got there.

*Cricket*Cricket* yep. I was that poor a sight. But thats not where the other shoe dropped.
Because I didn't have ANY form of ID and both my neighbor and my Ex were unavailable to escort me in to the base I was given a police escort.

Course they couldn't allow me to drive the half mile to house though. Thats too easy. Or, 'illegal' in their opinion. I was escorted in the BACK of the cop car.

Nothing like getting dropped off at your house in your bedroom worst and then having to climb back in with your wallet so you could walk through the Guest Center again and claim your vehicle.

I swore that this would never happen to me again, but really y'all should know me better by now.

Of course it happened again.

I managed a bra this time since it was well after noon. I was wearing little shorts because the days have been getting warmer and I shaved my legs (women will understand that sentiment). Feeling every bit like the Wonder Woman on my shirt I thought I could rock knee high boots. It was raining so I substituted boots with pink and purple plaid galoshes. No ones gonna see me anyways. I was just driving up and grabbing Iris.

I sat at the corner gas station for 20 minutes waiting on my friend and savior Jen to come fetch Iris from me so she could get my ID at the house. I was NOT going to stride in to the Guest Center in that get up.

Tonight I needed filtered water because theres no way I am gonna drink this nasty liquid calcium water that San Angelo pipes into my tap. I ran out of gallons but I always have a 24 pack of bottled water riding in the jeep. I meant to make myself some coffee and sit on the porch so I had pulled on knee high fuzzy boots because I was too lazy to change from itty bitties to long pants, and for lack of finding my regular hoodie I fished out my Tinker bell halloween one.

I was THIS close to walking out of my patio to my car when I caught myself. This,...was all too familiar. I sat my happy ass back down. Coffee can wait till tomorrow.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Burning chicken, naked dashes, and falling in your dreams

This lack of sleep is fucking with me.

There I was in the shower, tipping my head back and soaking my hair when I smelled something delicious cooking.

'Mmmm roast chicken?' I think. 'Cat,' My neighbor 'must be cooking something yummy...its kinda late though' 11:15 pm to be exact folks

'And isn't she leaving at 4 am for a conference?...'  And then it hit me. "Oh SHIT!"

I was boiling chicken in stock for enchiladas tomorrow. I cant even remember when I put the pot to the heat so images of charred chicken catching fire and turning my kitchen into a fire pit inferno had me dash out of the shower without so much as squeezing water out of my hair. Although come to think of it, I could of used the 5 gallons of water my long hair was soaking up. Thankfully I grabbed a towel because as I mad dashed across my living room and dining room I could clearly see my neighbors out my back patio doors since I have YET to fix the curtain rod. I do hope they forgive how often I dash about inappropriately dressed at night I keep forgetting to fix my curtains.

Oh and the chicken was fine. Low on water but perfectly cooked. Enchiladas are still on for tomorrow!

Its not like I don't get sleepy. I do. Its just that freakishly vivid nightmares and jolts keep me up. I didn't go to sleep till 5am yesterday (its now 1:13 on Friday*Update* Its now 3:52 am while I edit...I got distracted). I've been timing myself between sleeping bouts so I can catalogue how much sleep I actually get, and 10 minutes into closing my eyes I woke up to my fist narrowly missing my face. Nightmare evasive maneuver? Maybe. You know those dreams where you wake up feeling like you were falling and you momentarily spasm? Thats what I did, just a little more thrashing hence the flying fist.
A few night ago I had a dream where tornadoes were ravaging the area where Aeva and I were at. Inside the building we took refuge in, I was somehow aware that I wasn't going to survive it and that depending on how well I took position with Aeva would define wether my dead body would cover her from building fragments or suffocate her. Last night I dreamt she HAD somehow suffocated and my attempts to save her failed miserably. Other dreams involve losing Iris. Or reenactments of the BreakUp. Or other crazy emotionally painful scenarios my brain comes up with.

Sometimes Im so exhausted I try to nap when Aeva does. Dreams seem to be more vivid then, with shorter sleeping spurts so that I rely on a constant stream of texts and notifications to routinely wake me. Which is why I sleep with my phone in my hand. I've often gone through my phone later and realized I texted people back with one eye open and no coherency. If this is apologies. (PS i prolly didn't mean any of it unless its hilarious. If so, please share)

Im fairly certain that coffee has become onto water for me. It doesn't do a damn thing against this constant exhaustion.

It does have its upside though. I get lots of laundry done between midnight and 5 am. I also get time to paint my nails. Waste time on Pinterest (its been so LONG since i've made a project off of there!!) and read. Sadly none of this helps wind me down enough to fall instantly into deep sleep.

On a slightly related note... Seems while Im having trouble going to and staying asleep,....

Aeva doesn't seem to realize when she's walked 10 feet in the direction opposite her bed and passed out, or

tucked and rolled off. 
Yes. Its messy. Its a kids room. They do something called 'playing'...and I don't always play maid right away.

Maybe Iris is the only normal of our trio...she's in there somewhere with 20 teddies and 3 blankets. But at least she SLEEPS.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Grow the Fuck up fellow Yogis

Without going into detail, today has been full of angst, excitement...and utter frustration. Normally I am decent at handling stress. I can become angry or determined and in both instances I get stuff done. The other side of that coin is when all this stress comes with a rope around both my hands. And feet. And today, a gag. It may sound like some frisky and freaky bedroom venture, but I assure you were sadly far from THAT.

My ortho surgeon doesn't approve but I go to Yoga 2-3 times a week. I wish I could say that it has helped my injuries and strengthened my muscles but really I think its given me more like iron lungs (breathe! the teacher yells, BREATHE! how the hell when im upside down and contorted?!) and strong ish legs. As in I can now stand in a squat and not utterly die with in 10 seconds.

None the less, I go to yoga because it helps center me when I manage to clear out my head from all the crap that collects there daily. It also lets me exert a decent amount of frustration. Its odd, I know, because its supposed to be a flowing sorta thing. I more like flop. Maybe thats where my heart rate goes haywire.

Going into class, 2 or 3 women were having a discussion concerning small children. Soon an older man and two much younger women chimed it.

It took reminding myself that i dont want to go to jail to keep from unleashing a torrent of  anger on the people in that class. Heres a few choice excerpts of their conversation:

"I absolutely hate when parents bring their stupid snot nosed kids to a restaurant. I mean REALLY! Keep those things home till they're old enough to know how to stay quiet"

"Oh if MY kid EEEVVVERRR got even slightly loud in a restaurant, I would slap the ever loving crap out of them and *snaps fingers* we'd be OUT of there!"

"I just dont understand why parents are so much about bringing their babbling kids to restaurants. No one wants to hear them!"

"I believe people with children should just stay home!"

"I have actually asked to be MOVED when ever I get seated next to kids, like uh uh! waiter, I am NOT paying good money to sit by THOSE"

"Kids dont belong in restaurants!"

"People shouldn't be allowed to chose how many kids they have, what for? They're just annoyances! I say they get snipped against their will at 2 kids!"

What has society come to? Do they not realize that they were kids once too?? That children, unlike 'adults', are unable to regulate their emotions? That they're not keen to social clues? That most of the time they're just so damn excited to be sitting down at a table with many others around and food they aren't accustomed to having at home? How, pray tell, do these 'adults' expect children, whose synapses are merely just beginning to take on more controlled functions and higher thinking skills, to do things that even THEY cannot do?

Let me tell you something about these 'adults'. They're worse than kids.

You, skinny broad that complained about kids making noises and disrupting your 15 dollar fucking meal....YOU piss me off every goddamn time you GRUNT and breathe so damn heavy I can hear you across the room because you happen to think its cute and you need everyone to notice you pulling off a perfect plank. Good job. You have muscles that hold up your 80 lb frame. How about muscles to control your damn tongue?

Or YOU, elderly 'gentleman' who complains about kids being rude and come when you farted not ONCE not TWICE but 4 times in a row in a very quiet room did you not excuse yourself? I've met toddlers with more decency. Next time at least try to pass gas when were not all on the ground doing breathing exercises. And for GODS SAKE, excuse yourself.

Then theres YOU, woman who obviously cant remember having kids (or maybe you were never blessed with them...which is probably a good thing). You're the type who parties too hard, who drinks too heavy and regrets everything she does in her inebriated state but yet never learns consequences. You're not able to keep yourself in check...but you DARE to criticize parents that are probably so tired from properly raising happy healthy children that they decide to treat themselves and their children to dinner out??

Dear college student. Dont open your fucking mouth. I hear enough about your weekend escapades, your supposive dislike of being 'hit on by like omg every guy in a 20 mile radius!'. You have more need for attention than the toddler who is beaming over handling spaghetti on his own.

I went into class today utterly exhausted from an emotionally draining day. I felt like a failure of a woman, an adult, and parent.

I ended up disgusted by the realization that I am not as bad off as the people my children will be sharing social and physical space for the rest of their lives.

Every time we went into child's pose, sitting back onto our heels, foreheads touching the ground, hands extended before us...I thought about my children. About how these 'adults' were once children, in poses much like this one. Vulnerable. Innocent. Bowed down by a world that has lost the meaning of the joy of raising a child as a community...and not shunning it.

I came away from my mat today completely devoid of energy. I spent my whole hour watching adults make childish movements, comments, and decisions. As I pressed my hands to my mat, hoping to connect to the world around me,...I realized the world around me cares not for one another.

I came home to hear even worse news. My bubbly Aeva had been told by an elderly woman at Ihop to shut up.


She told her to be quiet. To stop talking. She CLAPPED HER HANDS at she would at a DOG.

If I have one thing to be proud and grateful for in my Ex this week...its that he told the woman to shut the fuck up herself.

Granted I would of preferred to do more but this is probably why I was in Yoga trying not to go to jail over hypothetical children. Iris was completely upset and confused as to why anyone would treat her sister like that. She was after all "just being a lil kid, momma...she cant help it."

Dear adults of the world. You've got a lot of growing the hell up to do.

I hope you stay in your goddamn houses until you are wise enough to be social assets. Instead of just asses.