Watch me try to throw a silver lining on this load of crap

The current statistics are as follows...

Hercules, sick since Thursday 2 a.m., running a fever, which is currently 99.5, not medicated.

The Little Lady, running a fever since Thursday before lunch, It is currently 101, and not medicated because she spit up the ibuprofen, which may have been a product of her protestation, as opposed to her actual sickness.

The Baby Girl, started running a fever during the night. Not sure what her temp is, I got 99.5 when I tried to take it in her sleep. I suspect it is higher than that, I'll know for sure when she wakes up.

My truck won't start. The stove is still broken.

So...I am stuck at home with three sick babies, without transportation, or a way to prepare their meals. May I add that the only remaining charger for my cell phone is my car charger? No, because it is overkill you say? Fine. I'll leave that out.

I am too tired to cry. If I had even the slightest smidgen of energy, I would likely give in to uncontrollable sobs. Finally...something good that comes out of sleep deprivation!

A quick update

Around two this morning H woke up with a fever. No other symptoms, just a fever. TLL joined him in having a fever today. Again, no symptoms, just a fever. I find plain fevers really, really freaky. I am holding out to see what tomorrow morning brings, but, my anxiety level is hovering around 'batshit crazy.'

JB and LB are spending this weekend at my aunt's house. I think it is because I'm worried about the little ones, but, I am feeling really unhappy that they won't be here. Again, lots of worried feelings and throat blocking anxiety attacks.

My back is still killing me. This makes...a week now??? Ugh.

It is on a week like this one, that I really miss having a husband 'in house' to help diffuse the stress and anxiety. Possible broken bones, weird frightening fevers, general malaise, and a broken stove...are more than I would like to deal with solo.

Short, not sweet

My stove is broken. The landlord hung up on my husband (who is also his brother!!!) when he called to tell him about it. I think that means I'm royally screwed. I spent three hours boiling bottles in the microwave today. I also fixed our last meal in stock, that I won't need a stove in order to cook, for tonight's dinner.

I am pretty bummed about life in general.

The end.

Gratitude with attitude

It is time for Think Tank Momma's Gratitude With Attitude. I'm full of attitude this week, and running a little short on the gratitude, but, I'm going to give it a try. If you would like to play too, swing by Think Tank Momma's site, grab her code, add your link to her Mr. Linky...it is that simple.

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Dear Times Commenting Cunts, non gender specific in this instance,

Thank you for being judgmental, sanctimonious, pompous asses in your comments about Mommy Bloggers. You reminded me why I love mommies who blog, and why I'm proud to be one.

Sincerely,

Feeling a bit of envy this morning...telling you to go suck something, would make me feel better than the lame 'You can kiss my ass,' that I'm having to settle for here

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Dear Daylight Savings Time,

I already pulled the 'c' word out for the Times people, you dodged a bullet on this one, because I don't have anything left in my arsenal. I would like to thank you for screwing me out of one, of my TWO hours, of nightly rest.

I am a completely exhausted waste of a human being (according to the Times folks, that would be everyday) and it is [almost] all your fault.

I know that you and Exhaustion have some insider trading shit going on. I'm aware of your treachery, alas, I'm too tired to do a frigging thing about it.

Sincerely,

The toothpicks are starting to make my eyelids bleed a little

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Dear Hubby,

When I called you scared and worried because I thought H had broken his finger? Do you remember why I hung up on you? It was because you busted out with, "I don't f*#king want to hear this shit!"

I bust my ass every single day to give you a chance at the career you always wanted. I do it 100% alone. I hardly ever complain to you (that's what my blog is for) and your attitude sucks when I need you to provide just a tiny bit of moral support.

Do you remember what you did for me when I was working on my career? You complained to every relative that I have. You threw me under the bus to your friends. You made my life a living hell. You fought with me. You let me know every day how much you resented me for working. Ultimately, you made it impossible for me to keep a job that I loved and excelled at. Not once before today, have I called you on this. I have secretly been glad for the opportunity to be a full time mother to our children. I have THE hardest job in the world, but I love doing it.

Today however, I want you to understand what I lost when I gave up my career. When I was working, I looked at facts and figures each day. Everyday, I looked at reports comparing this quarter's progress to last quarter's progress. I knew what I had to achieve to make EBITA. Everything was spelled out for me. I had TANGIBLE proof that I was good at my job.

As a SAHM, there isn't 'tangible' proof of anything. I have to find my bonus in hearing my son scream, "I hate you," and slam a door in my face. My crunch time isn't before the corporate bigwigs arrive, it is when the babies are woken up late at night, and then won't go back down until four in the morning. Getting the school children up when I am too dizzy with sleep deprivation to walk? That is my new crunch time.

I gave up my friends. When you left, I ceased to have time to talk to them on the phone any longer. I could never run out and meet them for lunch. Even when you came home, there was pressure to spend all of that time with you. That was to the exclusion of everyone else in my life. I took all of this in stride. I have never complained...until today.

Today, I want you to know what our reality is. We went down to Miami together. We calculated how much it would cost to live there. We decided *together* that we couldn't afford it on the salary they were offering you. *Still* you took that job, even though we had decided that you would not. Again, I have never called you on this. You were following your heart and realizing your dreams. Who was I to stand in your way?

To make it all work, the children and I stayed here, and you left to start your new job. We knew when you left that we couldn't afford to live together in Miami, not unless we were willing to sacrifice our children's schooling and safety. So, I persevered. First on my own with five children, now on my own with six.

Now, you want to ask why there isn't extra money? The answer that you don't want to believe is, because there never was. We knew from the get-go that this job was going to try us in ways that we hadn't been tried in a long while. We are feeding and raising six children. They are our lives, they are what push us to try harder and be better...don't ever forget, that without them, we would have been so much less than we are now.

The goal was to finish the project you were assigned to...three years long...and then transfer back to us. Of course, through no fault of yours, or even my own, that project was delayed in starting for 18 months. Now it has been over a year and a half that we have been apart, and the finish line is still 3 years away. By the time you come home, the newborn you hardly know will be in preschool. It is such a long time.

I don't mean to complain. I don't try to make you feel bad. I want you to respect what the children and I have sacrificed for you. I want you to know that we deserve compassion. You can't give of yourself everyday like you used to, but, that isn't any reason to deny us empathy and love.

Each day that passes with you gone is like a mountain that I know I can't climb. Everyday I make it over that mountain, carrying our very heavy load on my shoulders alone. Each night when I fall exhausted to sleep, I marvel that I made it through the day. No matter how many times I do it, I still wake up to that same feeling of dread. You could alleviate so much of that for me by just being kind.

Now, is that really too much to ask?

Love,

I didn't f*#king ask for this shit!

What is mommy blogging to me?

I blog because my children are my life. I give them everything that I have to give most days. I don't usually have much left for my friends, or even my extended family. Perhaps I should expect that, as the mother of six children, especially one whose husband lives and works several hours away from us. Blogging allows me to forge friendships, bonds, or just to socialize...but it allows me to do it at my own pace. When I am too tired to write a blog post at the end of the day, I don't. When there are IRL people who are counting on me, I run the risk of letting them down, because there isn't enough of me to give at this point in my life. I'm just too busy.

Blogging isn't just a matter of convenience though. Blogging is a benchmark for me. Writing used to be a hobby. I would write because I loved it. I haven't done that for many years. Life got in the way. I don't aspire to be a great writer, just a writer who isn't bored by her own words, or disappointed by how poorly she expresses herself these days. Blogging forces me to read what I write. It is the drill sergeant in the background calling for me to pull it together, and be all that I can be. One day, I will have time to go back to my roots, tighten my boot straps and really try in earnest. Until then, I have this blog...to remind me that it is better to write something, than nothing at all.

What kind of people have I met through blogging? Wonderful people. I've met supportive people, who are salve to my soul on days when the stress of my life is such, that I can feel myself buckling under the pressure. I've met funny bloggers, who make me smile. A few of them can even make me laugh out loud. I've met other mothers with big families. I'm afraid that I don't know anyone IRL with five or more children of their own. Let me tell you, Michelle Duggar is a hard act to follow, and I am very glad that she isn't my only inspiration. For that, who do I have to thank? Mommy Bloggers.

Blogging gives me a venue to channel my stress and frustration. It gives me a place to record the milestones that I would never write in a baby book. It gives me a way to share the things that fascinate, and alternately, those that frustrate me. Living apart from my husband makes me feel very alone in this parenting business. Blogging helps me conquer that. My friends in BloggyLand can't walk a fussy baby for me at three in the morning, but, they do stop by to say hello, when they are walking their own babies in the wee hours...and sometimes, that is just what I need.

I am a Mommy Blogger. I don't seek fame or fortune from this (good thing, right?) anymore than I do from being a mother. Just like being a mother though, I derive happiness from it. How can that be wrong? Being a mother is the most important thing that I will ever do in my life. These children are my opus. Why should chronicling my life as a mom, be the recipient of such derision?*

What derision? I should have explained first...go see Suburban Correspondent, she has the links to the articles that have me so annoyed, posted. Then, tell me why *you* blog. That is, if you still want to, after reading the article and some of those comments...ouch!

Evil laughs

My oldest child is a smart ass. It is true. I was reminded of one of his 'funniest' moments today when I was reading another blog talking about cats. It involved my big, black truck. I loved that truck. L-O-V-E-D it. It had a black exterior and black upholstery. It was impractical as hell for Florida. But, it was redneck love at first sight.

My husband and I walked the dealership when we bought that truck. We test drove a Taurus that I hated. The first car we had purchased together was a Contour, and the Taurus was exactly like it. I was grumpy. Then we test drove a new Crown Victoria. I would hands down have bought that car if the decision had been mine. My husband vetoed it. He had hated the Crown Vic that was mine, which we were replacing. He rubbed up against every F150 on the lot. I gave him dirty looks and shot him down. I lusted after every SeniorCitizenMobile there. The Lincoln Town Car made me purr.

Then we spotted it. The big, black truck. It wasn't a Ford Ranger. So, what was it? A Dodge Dakota. Windows tinted black, black sprayed-in liner, black upholstery, gleaming black body. I knew I was in trouble when I began to salivate. I consented to a test drive. It's V8 made me grin. The 4 wheel drive made me stupid happy. I. Had. To. Have. That. Truck.

We bought it, and I refused to let my husband drive it....um, ever? I even drove myself to, and then home from the hospital when H was born in that truck. My. Truck.

Anyhoo...we had a lot of cats. We lived out in the country and I am a cat colony kind of girl. Cat fur frequently flew off my clothes to nestle in the lush interior of my Baby. Once, David, one of my toms, got locked in the car for a few hours before he realized he was out there. My beautiful truck got furry.

I took my truck to be detailed. The guy who brought the truck around to me when my Baby was finished said, "Lady, you must have a lot of cats. There was cat fur all over this truck."

My son, who was 8, maybe 9 at the time, didn't miss a beat, "Oh, no Sir! We don't have any cats. Sometimes though, when my mom catches them, she lets them ride in her truck when she takes them to the nice lady who owns the Vietnamese* restaurant down the street."

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*A family friend was in Vietnam for business, when he returned he told BB an elaborate story about being served cat while he was there. I have *no* idea if the story was true, because I really didn't want to know, but, my son has never forgotten it. That was where he got the inspiration for the Vietnamese restaurant.

One thing I learned that day...never try to tell a stranger that an innocent, wide-eyed child is capable of such deception. They won't believe you and you'll end up feeling worse than if you had just let it go.

The second thing I learned that day was that my son is partly EEVILL (think Mermaid Man from Spongebob saying that) and that he gets it...from me.

I am not a merry maid, in fact, I am not merry

So...yesterday was shopping day and now you all know what I mean when I say that. I'm still tired this morning. That feeling of exhaustion is aided and abetted by The Little Lady, who *will not* sleep through the night. I have been using melatonin as a sleep aid, which is met by marginal, but not unappreciated improvement. Now I only have to get up with her 2-3 times instead of 3-4 times. I yearn for 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

My husband will not be home at the end of the month. Hopefully, he will swing by for a long weekend in April or May. Yes, really. My first instinct is to cry. I'm trying not to do that. Horribly, I have to admit that they wouldn't be tears of anguish because I miss Hubby, but, rather tears of frustration that I won't be getting a break. I do believe that I have had this married, single mother gig too long now. I am far too used to it. As an aside, WHATTHEBLOODYHELLWASOCTOMOMTHINKING????WHYWOULDANYONEWANTTODOTHISALONE????

My children haven't bothered doing their chores the last few days. FCATs and all that. My house is wrecked...but, so am I. What to do? What. To. Do.

Sleeping in my pretzel position in order to accommodate all the children who usually sleep in my bed, migrate there after the lights go out, and dogs who sleep there, is causing my back to seize up and spasm. This is not a welcome happening. It will certainly not help with the massive amounts of housework that I need to do.

My 20 month old daughter has been just about unbearable the last few days. She has pink eye now, so I am giving her the benefit of the doubt. Holding her 24/7 is keeping me from doing much of what is on my to-do list. Come to think of it, it isn't doing much for my back either.

I need to get off the computer now, so that my 3 year old can indulge his Playhouse Disney online passion. Or. Else.