Crappity Crap Crap
Remember that horrible drug problem I had with Meth?
Yeah. Neither do I.
But Walmart apparently does.
Lee buys Claritin-D 24 each month from BJ's ( costco, sams... a bulk store). This week, we went in for the monthly drug run and they were out.
I told him I would pick it up from Walmart after the gym today.
So....after said gym trip, I walked into Walmart ( actually, I kind of slinked into Walmart, I kicked my own ass at the gym today) I went up to the pharmacy counter, and asked for a box of Claritin-D
I realize they are behind the counter now because of the horrible Meth addiction sweeping the nation. I live in a quiet little country town, which is apparently the best place to cook Meth. It's a horrible drug and an even worse lifestyle.
Lee and I are addicted ( no pun intended) to the A&E show, Intervention. Almost every week, they show a person addicted to Meth, and showcase their story.
So, I don't mind getting drugs behind the counter, I'm in no hurry. If it's going to save some 16 year old kid from blowing his own hand off in a Meth lab, I'm all for it. I do it for the kids really.
Part of this behind the counter thing, is that you have to give your liscense as well. So I handed it over ( I'm kind of proud of this one, the picture isn't too shabby) and she typed away my information ( with one finger, letter-by-letter) ( I mean L-E-T-T-E-R-B-Y-L-E-T-T-E-R) (ok, now I'm in a hurry)
She filled it all out, looked at me and said, "You've exceeded your limit of pseudoephedrine this month."
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked
" You can't buy Claritin until the end of the month. According to government regulations, you are only allowed a certain amount a month, and you're over it."
I racked my brain, I never buy Claritin, Lee always pays at the store. And a month ago, when we were sick...Lee went to Walgreens to buy Dayquil...What was she talking about?
"OK....thanks?" I walked away and called Lee. I don't think I have even bought Claritin in my life, seriously.
And then I remembered.
My wallet was stolen in December, right before we moved.Sh*tCr@pG#DD@M!T
Could that be it? Is someone using my identity to buy drugs? So thats it, I have no end of this entry, I'm asking you, who do I call to find out?Because this is my luck, that something will go wrong, and Iwill have to pay for it.
What do I do????
Happy Mothers Day
At 4 o'clock this morning, I was reminded what it means to be a mom.
I could hear Isaac on his monitor sniffling, coughing and crying. I went in his room, and he was sitting up, chewing on his duck and trying to wipe his nose. ( and by trying I mean, he puts the back of his hand up against his nose, and wiggles his fingers. It's waaaay too cute, and an instant crowd pleaser)(Unless that crowd was having her incredible Benjamin Brat beach scene dream at said 4 o'clock)( then it's only a little cute)
I picked him up and he immediately gave me a hug, and it was a good one. It was one of those hugs where if his arms where made of clay, they would wrap all the way around you twice. He nuzzled his little head in between my head and my shoulder, sniffled and sighed.
We sat down and rocked and I thought, "Its 4 a.m. Happy Mothers Day"
There are times when I am so tired, so busy, that I forget who I am, or was before the baby. I know I was someone different, I just can't remember who. There are nights I lie in bed frantic, thinking of how I'm going to make A connect to B, and if it's going to affect Isaac. I worry so much more, now that I have the responsabilies of two people.
I look at our friends, with no restraints, pick up and move across country, have a conversation that doesn't involve teething, or diapers. They can go out to dinner after 8, or stay out until the sun comes up, sleep all day and do it again. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't envy them on some level.
But then there are mornings like these, where I realize that I am someone's entire world. That by a little hug, he feels completely comforted and he knows it's all going to be all right. There are nights where Lee, Isaac and I can just lay in bed and laugh at our feet wiggling in the air. Or enjoy, and I mean, really enjoy, a bath, enjoy it so much that not only your hands, but your elbows are pruney too. Things like an empty plastic bottle, or a napking laying around are adventures to Isaac. Things I've never looked at, are suddenly so relevant.
There are those things.
When I fall into bed some nights, exhausted and decorated with baby food, wondering when the last time I shaved my legs, read this month's Cosmo, called my best friend, had sex, bought a pair of shoes...I forget how lucky I am.
I needed an early Mothers Day morning to help me realize that I don't need a Mothers Day to be the luckiest person in the world. Isaac and Lee gave me a sweet picture frame with a collage of pictures dating back to day 1, and it's beautiful, but honestly, I didn't need it. All I needed were my two boys by my side to make any day, not just mother's day, amazing.
P.S. In the middle of writing this, Isaac crawled on his hands and knees across the room for the first time. Now thats a Mothers Day present.
Today I've learned
Today I've learned...
that when you wake up before your son does, he'll sleep until 10 o'clock in the morning. Just to spite you.
that when you leave chicken out on the counter overnight, instead of putting it back in the freezer like you planned, it thaws and leaves a red tinted liquid all over your counter (that is just....a joy to clean up)
that when he lays down on the floor and sucks in, he can creep underneath the sofa in the five seconds that you're not looking.
that I can make the UPS man stutter when I open the door while he's picking his nose.
that our gardeners smoke pot in my backyard on their lunchbreak.
that when I'm outside on the grass, finishing a painting, the spriklers are just bound to come on.
that Isaac likes to eat doodle bugs.
that organic soy chocolate milk is pretty damn close to heavan, however, the white milk...tastes like melted crayons.
that my grumpy old neighbor scratched his balls while he thinks no one's looking. (haha! take that old man)
that Isaac can fit 10 toes and a couple of fingers in his mouth.
that TomKat had a TomKitten, and yet...I still don't care.
that someone sold my information to telemarketers, and I'm now getting calls on my cellphone. ( and they learned what a complete bitch I can be)
that procrastinating while writing my final writing assignment for class will lead me to write a journal entry
Ya'll come back now ya hear?
Last weekend, we were sitting with Lee's grandmother and her friends. They were telling us about Lee's grandpa when he was in the Army. His old friend, who was also in the army, was trying to explain to us why their group was so tight. "We were all from New York, its different, I don't really get along with other people, especially not these damn southerners."And then his wife pipes up and says," Ya'll"( in a mocking tone) I mean, that just sounds so stupid!"
Lee and his parents both looked at me with knowing grins. I just sat there and bit my lip because this was not the time nor the event to get sassy.
But I like being from the south, I don't know what she was talking about.
We have a different outlook on life.
We always know the weather, hot, humid and more hot
We write thank you notes,
we never wear white shoes before Easter or after Labor Day,
We glisten, never sweat,
We always know people's names (Honey, Darlin' & Sugah)
I'd eat grits and bacon everyday if I could,
Our religion in Football
We know the real joy of summer is wide brimmed hats and strapless dresses,
It's either fried, hunted, buttered or breaded,
We wouldn't be caught dead with bad hair or bad manners, but you may catch us with a bad boy from time to time,
We drink Coke and sweet tea, and eat dressed sandwiches,
We keep our enemies charmed, and our friends are our family.
While there are some days when I think I am the only democrat down here, I wouldn't give it up if youpaid me. So they can take their comments and "shove 'em where the sun don't shine!"
Bless their hearts
I'm not going to yell.
And I'm not going to get all political....
when there is a war going on, continuous protests, a babbling idiot for a president and his quickly diminishing staff, immigration concerns,and a gas crisis that is crippling our entire nation,
is Paris Hilton's most recent break up one of the top news stories on CNN.
You know, I broke up with Randy Lopez in 7th grade, his dad was the general manager at the local UPS store. I wonder if that made the headlines then?
At the end of January, I decided to start looking for my biological mother again.
In the state of Louisiana, there is a process to go through. You must register in the "Louisiana Adoption Registry" as either the adoptee ( me) or the parent. Once your application goes into the registry, they can do two things:
1. match it to your biological family, notify you that a match has been made, and then instruct you to go through the mandatory counseling required to make a reunion, or...
2. let your file sit there until there is a match made.
I couldn't apply for the registry until I was 18. When I turned 18, I struggled with the decision to do so, and in the end, I only applied to the agency that handled my adoption. I never went to the state because the agency, Catholic Charities, told me no one had made an inquiry as to my adoption.
That was devastating.
I've struggled with my adoption, and for no good reason. I was adopted by an incredible family. I've never wanted for anything, and all in all, I think I've turned out o.k.
So why is this so hard?
At the end of January, I decided to grow a pair, and applied to the state registry, kind of the end all of adoption. I needed some additional information that I didn't know off the top of my head, so I had to go to my parents. That's even harder. My parents have always been very supportive of me searching for my biological mother, but letting them know that I was doing so again...is just hard.
Then came Valentines Day, and Lee proposed.
The whole thing was put on hold.
A week later, I saw the papers, and finally sent my dad an email asking him some questions.
"May I ask why?" was his only response.
So I dropped it.
A week later, my mom called me to talk about it. I hate talking about it, it makes it real.
I know they think it had something to do with the wedding, but it doesn't. It has to do with having Isaac.
I love him more than I can imagine, and more than that. I know he is 100% me, and for some reason, I just want to know what my 100% is, or why.
I finally mailed everything off, and stored it in the back of my mind.
Last week, I saw a special on VH-1, where DMC found his real mother. He made it look so easy, an hour long special, and plop, his biological mother was sitting next to him.
Can my special be that easy?
What would I even say?
My mom kept telling me that I had to be prepared. Lee said the same thing. How? How do you prepare? I can't explain it to someone who isn't adopted, but there is no "preparing" for the letter, or for the reunion.
You just do.
If I only had two words to tell her, they would be "Thank You". After being pregnant for nine months with Isaac, there is no way I could have given him up. He was as much a part of me, as I him. She was so self-less to give me up, and at the age of 16, many of us aren't that strong.
So Lee and I got home from Disney World last night, and there was a mountain of mail waiting, most of it crap. But there was a letter from the Louisiana Dept of Social Services.
And my heart dropped.
It was so thin.
"We regret to inform you that we have no match at this time with any of your biological family."
No match. She's still alive, she's just not looking for me.
I'm right here though, and I'm still looking for her.
I just wish the feeling was mutual, because this time it hurts so much more, like devastation and rejection at the same time. It's quite the punch to the gut.
I guess I wasn't ready.
How many times can you say Yes?
So Valentines Day last year, I shocked Lee and told him that he was going to become a dad.
Last year had enough excitement to last us a few years, so between that, and finances, we agreed to have a very low-key valentines day.
I made paper towel roses, and cooked my best chicken legs.
I even made Lee a "Happy Arbor Day" card.
( we promised not to do too much for valentines day, but we didn't say anything about Arbor Day)
Of course he made a really sweet card, that pales in comparison to mine, and he even got Isaac to hand it to me.
So after dinner, I put Isaac down for a nap, and we sat down to finish our bottle of wine. Lee lit some candles and said he had one more thing.
One more thing! We promised low key, and he promised it was.
He brought out a book he made of printer paper and construction paper, then binded it with ribbon. It was the story of us.....and it began...
I'm not putting every page up, but it was cute.
I got to the second to last page that read,and by the time I got to the last page
Lee was already on his knee with the ring out.
And I thought last year's Valentines Day was more excitement than I could handle...
I had one of those horrifying dreams last night.
The kind where you wake up and you believe whatever it was really happened.
I've always wanted to buy really ugly clothes, and audition for one of those make-over shows where they throw out your entire wardrobe, and offer you money and guidance to buy a spanking new one.
In my dream last night, I made it. I got the old clothes thrown out, the new clothes on my back, and then they sent me to get my hair and make-up done.
that's where the shit hit the fan.
I've loved my long hair for as long as I've had it.
I said that I was voted best hair in high school, but upon further research, I found out, I wasn't, I'm not sure I was even nominated. Even more reason to prove myself in the awesome hair category.
So in my dream, I was in the hair section of the make-over, and I said the only thing you can't do is cut the length. Cut the length and I cut off your pinky. That, and I'll put a horses head in your bed.
I turn around and...My hair was short. SO short, and I cried, and stormed out of the doors, and wound up....On the field during the Super Bowl...
Anyway, I woke up horrified, and then realized, it was true.Not the Super Bowl part, the other part. I did cut my damn hair, I voluntarily signed up.
I look like Joanie did when she married Chachi. And we all know how that ended up, Chachi ran off with Pamela Anderson and her Baywatch bathing suit.
Great. More stuff to complain about.
That's all I have been doing lately, is complain.
I feel the words escape from my mouth, and I cringe.
But I just can't help it. I'm not very happy, and I think the main problem is...
I'm just not giving anything a chance.
It's all new, and it's not familiar, so I rebel.
Well....not so much rebel as just whine and complain, and cry in the bathroom at night.
It's a lifestyle choice really.
My other lifestyle choice?
Slow, messy and exhausted.
Isaac's teething has come to it's pinnacle. He woke up on the hour, every hour last night. Around three, he woke up with fever.
You and me both buddy.
Not only that, but he had pooped right out of his diaper.
Ah.... just what I wished for, hot warm baby with clingly poopy substance weighing him down.
So I brought him into his room to change him. When I have to do mid-night changes, I put his tiny sunglasses on him to shade his eyes from the light. Then I opened the diaper that run-eth over.
While I was elbow deep in crap, I looked up, and I saw a big toothless grin underneath his goofy sunglasses, and sweaty hair.
And suddenly the poop was moot, the kid is cute and he's all mine.
If he wasn't, this story would have never escaped my mouth.
However, when I woke up this morning, I was exhausted. I think I slept for a second.
I walked into the kitchen , made some tea, drank it, and then went to put my tea cup in the...
in the machine that....
the machine that holds utensils and cleans them...
I put my teacup in the dish cleaning apparatus.
Oh, I couldn't even remember what the Dishwasher was called. I realized that I also couldn't remember how to spell my name, so I went back to bed.
For twelve minutes.
I miss sleep so much.
Oh yes, my son loves Oprah.
Even through her recent flaws, he stands, well...he sits, with support, by her side.
I began folding clothes during Oprah, and laying Isaac on the bed. Once, I tried to pick him up, and he started crying. So...I put him back down, and his head turned towards Oprah.
I picked him up,
Put back down,
turned to Oprah.
Lee laughs, he thinks its funny.
Until the other day when he came home from work early, and right around 4, as if on cue, Isaac started to cry.
"Oprah's on" I explained.
And I took Isaac from his father, and placed him in front of his first lady love.
I think I should get a car out of this.
You're not going to believe this
Lee and I have this wonderful litle screened in back porch.
That we never ever use.
So, this past weekend, Lee decided to put his foot down.
"We're going outside tonight, we're going to use that porch."
So we did, and we brought along a bottle of wine.
It was nice, we sat and we talked, and we drank. And then we drank.
Since it's been almost a full year since I've drank, I woke up and wanted to immediately kill the tiny baboon that was jumping on my brain. I felt horrible.
Of course, Isaac chose that day to scream as loud as he could.
I was crippled. Like Bea Arthur auditioning for a starring role in Baywatch, I knew I was way outta my league. I promised god never to do that again, if she would just take away the horrible ugh that was ontop of me.
So two days passed by, and I still felt dizzy when I stood up, or moved too fast. I was still sick, and even worse, my super sense of smell was back.
Before I found out I was pregnant, a whole new world was opened to me.
A world of new smells. And I hated it. I could smell everything. People's breath, even if they were a safe distance, the meat counter at the market was horrific, and the worst was public bathrooms. I soon found out I was pregnant, and this was just part of the package.
This past week, we got our new sofa in. And I could smell it.
For two days, I could smell it.
"I think my super sense of smell is back" I told Lee one night.
"Are you pregnant?" He asked me immediately, almost accusing me.
"No. No I can't be, the pill?" I told him.
" You were sick for all those days, and now your smell..." he trailed off.
"The pill" I reassured him, "and that damn bottle of wine last week"
But I started to wonder, and fret, and then full on worry.
I can't be pregnant again, I just can't.
Money and figures started to swarm and stack up in my head. We don't have another room in this house! How could we decorate a room for a girl and a boy?We'd have to buy another crib, a double stroller, not to mention it's probably a girl, knowing my luck....all the clothes. Think of all the clothes, because, people don't send you gifts for the second baby, especially not if you just hit them up 9 months earlier.
Oh my god, if I am pregnant, then I got pregnant in December...like with Isaac. I vowed to act like a nun every December to come, and I continued to worry. We just can't do this now, what am I going to do?
I thought all night long. I imagined the phone call to my mom, I imagined the "thud" I would hear when she hit the ground. I imagined being all mantee-like and pregnant again trying to pick up Isaac. I imagined taking my maternity clothes out of the attic and having no dust to wipe off of them.
This just couldn't happen.
The next morning, I flew out of bed and got dressed.
And then laid back down and took a nap, I was exhausted. After all that imagining, I only got around 4 hours of sleep.
So then I woke up again, grabbed Isaac and ran to the drugstore.
I picked up a pregnancy test, nail polish, a card, and vitamins...nice array.
When I got home I set up shop in the bathroom. It was just 12 months earlier that I was doing the exact same thing in a bathroom in New Orleans.
Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into?
I took the test and this time, I had to wait four minutes. Four mintutes feels like four years when your waiting on something like this, only this time, I had something to distract me. My FOUR month old child, who was eating my hair and drooling down my shirt the entire time.
Ding! My phone told me it was time.
I put Isaac down so that I didn't drop him on the bathroom floor, (see, I'm a good mom) and walked in.
I said a quick..."It's not the end of the world if it's a yes, it's just a little early" pep talk, and I looked at the test.
Well, Jesus was an only child too, and he didn't turn out so bad.