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I Am THAT Kind Of Mother After All

While we were packing up last year for the move into our new house, I found something very interesting that highlighted just how anal retentive detailed I can be, especially when it comes to my child. It was a three page instruction manual for the babysitter we had in California when my daughter was three-years-old. I wanted to die of embarrassment after reading it.

It was very, how would I say it? Hmmm. “Specific” would be a nice way to put it but I’ll go with a bitchy control freak with a generous helping of mad crazy.

Just the first page alone is a listing of meal and snack times and the specific foods that should be eaten at these times as well as in what way the food needs to be prepared and cut up.

Grapes need to be cut in half and banana slices cut in fourths because if they’re not, holy shit, there will be hell to pay, apparently.

This shit comes off more as a threat to the babysitter. Poor lady.

On the second page, half of it details what we do to fill the days i.e. trips to the park, different parks, play with her riding fire truck, etc.

Oh my god. I put in very, very specific terms of the activities that my 3 year-old could do during the day, specifying what options she had to choose from.

Talk about me being the helicopter mom from hell.

The second half on the second page details her favorite television shows, The Wiggles, Elmo, Caillou – that little fucker-, Max And Ruby, and what channels they’re on, plus, what time they come on. I put that in there in case of emergencies.

My biggest worry was that after my husband and I would leave our daughter, she was screaming and crying for us and in a tizzy.

In reality, the hummingbird was probably saying “Bye, bitches! No hurry!”

The third page of this absolutely ridiculous and comical instructional for the babysitter are several different sample schedules of play time, nap time, park time, when to change her diaper, what to do if she gets fussy, what if she doesn’t take a nap and on and on.

Oh my fucking god.

I was that crazy, overbearing, control freak of a mother.

I would like to think that I have improved over the years but I still want to know absolutely everything, even if she’s just going to our next door neighbor’s house, which she’s been to hundreds of times.

My mom was like that when I was younger and it embarrassed me so much. Especially when she would ask to speak to my friend’s mom or dad.

I swore I would never be like that.

Well played karma. Well played.

I’d like to think I don’t have this huge stick up my ass and should just chill out from being such a panicked parent but that sucker is in there tight.

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Pot Chocolate

*I wrote most of this while we were still living in California four years ago and I kept on going back and forth about whether or not I should publish it. Maine is a place where you can also get medical marijuana. I’ve been having a terrible time with PTSD after losing Ben in 2013 and decided to get my medicinal card again last year because my prescribed antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication wasn’t working that well for me.

I’ve had chronic pain for so long from a few different ailments I have, including fibromyalgia. Over the years, I’ve never found much sympathy from doctors. I also have anxiety, depression, and panic attacks (I’m such a ball of fun) that has been kicking my ass for a while. I would occasionally try different medications but nothing would work or if the medication did, I would have side effects along with it.

Since I’ve been miserable for years, my husband suggested something to me that really took me by surprise. It shocked the hell out of me when he suggested trying medical marijuana.

I have always been one who never understood why alcohol, that can cause so much harm i.e, alcoholism, drunk driving, violence, etc, is legal but when it comes to pot, the worst that can happen is downing a bag of cheetos and watching Titanic for the 500th time. That last sentence is served with a small side of sarcasm. I know pot has its own demons. I just can’t think of any right now.

Obviously, you have to be a dumbfuck if you use either one and then drive. It’s only for use when I’m in for the night and after my daughter has gone to bed. Just had to throw that in.

I had smoked marijuana when I was younger but now here I am, older, a wife, and mom, so at first I thought there was absolutely no way. I also was really surprised that my husband even suggested it in the first place because he’s very, VERY straight-laced.

Not long after, I had an awful pain flare up and knew something had to be done with this pain I’m in most of the time. Since I live in a state where medical marijuana is legal, I made an appointment to see a doctor about getting a medicinal marijuana card when I was still living in California.

After I got my card, I had to do the deed. Get the courage to go to a medicinal marijuana depository. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. The night before I went, I kept thinking what it would be like to go to one of these places.

The next day when I walked into the depository, my mouth dropped. The place was spotless, the “flowers” were in glass containers, while the edibles where in glass cases.

The first thing they did was go through my paperwork I received from the doctor and then they put me in their computer. During this time, I was still feeling like I was doing something atrocious.

As I was standing there, surrounded by pot, I started panicking some, with the feeling like I was going to get busted for being in a place like this.

Then I was greeted by a woman who immediately put me at ease. There were so many different types of things I could get. Suckers, cookies, gum, ice cream, pretzels, etc.

Because of my chronic pain, I was recommended a tincture. It has more cannabinoids that combats pain and has less THC which is what gives you that “high” feeling.

While I was there, I discovered something that has become my favorite. Pot chocolate bars. They look just like regular chocolate bars which brings me to this.

Having a kid in the house with something like this made me really think about the safest place to keep it and it is way out of her reach. Hell, I even have trouble reaching my edibles off of the closet shelf.

I had such guilt at first that I have a child and here I was, eating some of a cookie or chocolate bar with something herbal. I haven’t told very many of my friends yet because I feel like I would be ostracized. Now they know. *waves*

I have to tell you, in the past few months, I have been feeling better. I’m actually able to get off my ass sometimes and exercise and I can take my child to the playground or go get our nails done with relative ease, less pain, and not as much panic. It’s been such a great experience to feel like I now have more freedom because of the reduction of the pain I have.

I didn’t write this with the intention of stirring up the pot, pun intended. I just wanted to share my story and let you know I’m a regular mom who has a beautiful family, chronic pain, and PTSD, among other things and now I have pot chocolate and CBD’s to alleviate my pain and anxiety so I can be more productive in my everyday life.

The pain I have is still there and the scars I have from losing my son will take time to heal as much as they can but my mental health and physical pain is more manageable with medicinal marijuana. I’m starting to live a life with less discomfort from my chronic pain and panic.

Out of all the things I’ve tried for many years, since my early 20’s, medical marijuana has been the closest to helping me live my life in the best and most normal way possible.

The stigma over marijuana needs to stop and I hope that it will someday be seen as a much more beneficial way of treating many ailments that people have, instead of being seen as this imaginary evil that people may make of it.

I believe if we all shared a joint and a bag of Funyuns, it could help us get closer to world peace.

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To The People Who Dance Like Nobody’s Watching

For the past six months or so, my anxiety attacks have started as early as before I even open my eyes, which is a rather new thing considering most of those attacks were usually happening at night, and I needed to cut out the news. It was making me feel completely suffocated to know of all the harm that was happening not only in the United States, but around the world.

Of course, I don’t live under a rock so the news seeps into my life on a daily basis. I’ll check in on one of my fave gossip sites to see who got married, who broke up, who had a baby, who went to rehab for “exhaustion”, who is losing their shit, etc., except there will also be news on there about the hot mess going on in D.C.

As much as I try to escape it, the real news of the world oozes in. Like the flow of lava. Destroying and burning down my small safe space of comfort.

There aren’t enough adorable puppy photos to cure these blues that are currently happening.

The pleas and desperate help that Puerto Rico needs.

The shootings in Las Vegas.

These events are so shocking and sickening. I just can’t wrap my mind around this kind of devastation.

Besides the daily stresses I go through every night while lying in bed, the happenings of the world also keep me up at night.

For some reason, when I try to be mindful and think happy thoughts, my mind goes to an Andrew Bird concert I went to last October. My mom had been visiting us for the first time in at least six years and it felt like a perfect night.

Towards the end of the show, the lights went down in the concert hall, the disco ball was lowered, stars scattered all across the arena, and there was a woman who was standing to my left. She was dancing in a way that honestly gave me second-hand embarrassment at first. She was moving her body along to the music and didn’t give one flying fuck what anyone thought, including me who quickly saw how judgemental I had been for a few quick seconds.

This woman who danced so freely is someone I hope to be someday.

Going through the rhythm of life and moving in the way that feels natural to me, no matter how ridiculous it may seem at first to those who are watching. I want to be able to drop my guard and be my true self, no matter how much it’s out of my comfort zone.

During these really difficult times, we should all be the kind of people who dance like nobody’s watching and show the kindness and goodness that so many people are very much needing right now.

This is not about politics for me.

This is about decent, human kindness that very few in current high-powered positions just don’t have.

People try to normalize the behavior of someone who is supposed to be the leader of my country and they are failing time and time again, spewing out hatred and insincerity.

So, I’m going to make an effort to go through the present, dancing to life the way that I want no matter what my conservative family members think. That’s including a cousin I adored and looked up to, my sister, and an uncle.

But, unlike them, I don’t take kindly to judge people based on their skin color or religion.

It may seem extreme to cut out family members but the decisions being made by the United States government is absolutely devastating people’s lives and ruining as well as breaking up families.

I no longer care if I’m a “special snowflake” for basic human rights and respect given to all people, no matter what their lot in life is.

Everyone deserves to have a happy life and stability. People should be allowed the freedom to come to the U.S. to make a better life for themselves.

Everyone deserves the chance to dance like nobody’s watching, without limitation or prejudice.

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The Big V

I was really wanting to have another baby but my uterus isn’t having it. I had another miscarriage this past July and was ripped apart. Infertility is such a mindfuck. It’s consumed me for years. After this last miscarriage, I told my husband I can’t go through anymore and that we are done in the having babies department.

I finally told my husband he needs to get snipped. It’s really time. With all of the surgeries I’ve had, I couldn’t imagine going in for another fucking surgery to get my tubes tied. My husband went to the doctor not long after I told him I can’t go through another pregnancy loss and before I knew it, the time recently came for the vasectomy.

Woo hoo! I didn’t know I would be so happy. I’ve been dealing with all kinds of birth control methods all these years and it’s going to be so nice to not have to worry from my end anymore. We’re not going to have the freedom until about four months after the surgery since they have to test his sperm at the three-month mark and the four-month mark.

I’ll be honest. This has me overcome with emotion since I know I’m ready to close down the baby factory but this closes a big chapter in my life. I always wanted to have at least two kids but I know I’m very lucky that I have one. My heart goes out to the women who’ve been trying for years to have a baby and haven’t been able to.

It also stings when my daughter tells me she would still really like to have a brother or sister.

But, I know this is for the best, especially because I didn’t have to go through the big V. My husband is always so calm, cool, and collected so I was stressing out about the procedure for him.

Which leads me into the prep for his surgery. Let me just say, this is the first time in a long time that I’ve had to share a bathroom with my husband since we moved into our new house last year. His shaved facial hair trimmings drive me mad because they get all over the sink and he’s apparently blind to it.

While preparing for the big V, I now know there’s something worse than facial hair trimmings.

My husband had to shave his balls the night before and ewwww, the hairy ball hair got all over the sink and he set the shaver right by our toothbrush holder. To top it off, there was a pile of pubes teetering in our bathroom trash, just waiting to fall over all over the floor.

I gagged my way through cleaning some of it up and wanted to be like “Dude, can’t you just flush your pubes down the toilet?” But, I wanted to cut him some slack since even though he was acting as cool as a cumber, he had to have had some nerves, although he really doesn’t express his emotions very often.

He eventually cleaned up from the Pube Storm of 2017 but ick, ick, ick.

My husband had the procedure in the afternoon and was given a Valium which was fun to see because I don’t think he’s ever had one before.

When we got home, he was still good and drugged and laid in bed while he put his balls on ice and watched James Bond movies. He had to rest for two days which I know was hell for him because the man never stops moving. If he’s not out mowing the grass, he’s cutting something up with his chainsaw or kayaking or riding his bike.

It’s a pretty strange feeling knowing we won’t be having any more kids. I didn’t realize I would still be longing so much for another child.

It makes me wonder if that feeling ever goes away despite how old I get.

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I’m A Mess

This past year and a half has been very difficult for me. I had five surgeries within 14 months, starting in 2016. It’s why I haven’t really been blogging as often as I’d like. I won’t bore you with the details of the surgeries but they came in such rapid succession and that’s what has made me go from anxiety with occasional panic attacks to my current state which has transformed to severe anxiety with frequent panic attacks, including the dreaded anxiety attacks first thing in the morning.

I didn’t take as good of care of myself as I should have with each recovery from surgery and it’s definitely taken a toll on me. I feel so anxious all the time and my body still feels like it’s in recovery mode. It’s been frustrating for me because I’m still not 100% physically and the frustration leads to anxiety which leads me to have panic attacks.

If you’ve never had a panic attack, you’re very lucky. Mine starts out with feeling a sense of dread. My heart starts pounding. It’s difficult to catch my breath. My mind starts racing. I feel dizzy. My heart gets to where it feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. I feel like I’m going to give myself a heart attack. The sense of dread increases. My heart’s beating so fast, my mind is racing, I’m feeling dizzier, and there are times I even get so worked up that I throw up from the anxiety and panic. It feels like I’m a prisoner in my own body and want nothing more that to escape myself.

So, for the past 18 months, my anxiety has grown to where it can be debilitating at times. I’m getting more concerned now because this is the time of year that my depression starts rearing its ugly head.

Since I cut out all news out of my life last month, the anxiety has become a little more manageable. I’ve been trying to ride out the panic attacks without reaching for my xanax prescription but that can be really difficult. Hmmm, would I rather feel like I’m in a fight or flight state of panic for half the day or should I take something that I know in 20 or so minutes will have me feeling more in control of my thoughts? But, I don’t want to have to depend on medication every time.

The problem is, I still have an ongoing medical issue and while I’ve had two surgeries for it where I thought both times that I’ll finally be feeling healthy again and won’t have to deal with this problem anymore. Low and behold, once I’m confident it’s finally not an issue anymore. the fucking thing pops back up. I feel like there’s no end in sight and my ENT doctor has been calling this “unusual and rare”.

He seems to be at a total loss about what to do and mentioned sending me to Boston. For now though, he’s waiting to see if medication will help. I know it’s not going to because in the past it never did.

I’m just feeling so frustrated and at a loss.

What I’ve been missing is writing. I know that’s something that will help clear my head and help my anxiety while also giving me an escape from these ongoing medical issues.

I just don’t know if I can still keep up the blogging, not that I’ve really been keeping it up that often. But, I’ve been blogging for over seven years now and I’m not quite sure I can completely let it go. So, for now, I figure what the hell, even if I don’t have much to say, I should just write anyway. It’s such a nice vacation from my anxiety ridden mind and the physical pain I’m still in.

So, now you know what’s been going on since last year. It feels good to clear the air and talk about the terrible time I’ve been having.

I know I’ll get through this rough time but right now it feels like it’s going to last forever. I’ll leave you for now by saying thank you for listening to my issues.

I’ve got issues, you’ve got them too, so give yours to me and I’ll give mine to you.

Your welcome for getting that song stuck in your head.

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Shoo Fly, Don’t Bother Me

I don’t like my psychiatrist. I’m sure he’s an okay guy but he comes off as really cold. But, I deal with him since I don’t really have any other options.

I usually dread going to his office and leave there more stressed than when I went in. I’ve been having some severe anxiety and frequent panic attacks for months now and it feels like I’m slowly suffocating under the weight of this anxiety.

I was pouring my heart out to this psychiatrist at my last appointment and he started eating a banana. I always laugh at the worst times. Nervous laughter. Seeing him eat a banana combined with me feeling very emotional and in tears combined with the phallic shape of the banana combined with my mind is that of a 12 year-old boy equals laughter.

He gobbled down the banana while I composed myself and the tears started coming. He starts swatting at the air and I try to continue talking to the spastic display in front of me.

He took notice and said “It’s a fruit fly. Go on….”

At this point I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I had been practicing what I wanted to say to him for weeks. And, there he is, swatting with both hands with his arms flailing about.

I’m trying so hard to keep a straight face while he continues swatting at this fruit fly. I went back to being an emotional mess and my head was down. When I was about to tell him something really difficult, he slapped his knee and said “Got it!”

I looked up to see him wiping off the remains of the fruit fly in his hand.

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Marriage Is Exhausting

Back in October, my mom came for a visit after six years of us not seeing each other. It was so amazing having her here and the only time I feel like my true self is when I’m around my mom, sister, and writing, so it was an exciting visit for me.

We talk about everything and nothing is really off limits. Months before my mom came to visit, I had been feeling off about my marriage. We’re not talking splitsville but my husband was just annoying the shit out of me. The biggest issue is that he is so overconsumed by our daughter and at times, overbearing… just like his parents are. I end up feeling like the third wheel. Obviously kids are the main issue but I firmly believe that the relationship should come first.

It gives your children a foundation to what a healthy relationship is and they learn the world doesn’t revolve around them all of the time.

After some talks with my mom, I could no longer ignore the disconnect I felt in my marriage. After the hummingbird goes to bed, the hubby and I go off and do our own things. While we’re in the same house, we’ve been slowly losing the closeness we once had.

My mom was the mirror I needed to see that I had to make a change and put my marriage on high priority. But, I had gotten to a point where I was stuck in a rut and exhausted by my marriage. It can be a lot of work. I had unintentionally left it on the wayside.

So, after my mom left, I immediately dove in and made the effort to be more one on one with him. Obviously, it can be hard when you have a 7 year-old that interrupts by saying “mom! mom? mom? MOOOM?!” over and over again while talking to your significant other and you have to say JUST A MINUTE! through gritted teeth.

Slowly, we’ve been working on connecting with each other more. We still on occasion get stuck in our old habits but I found out something and I don’t know why I hadn’t known this about my husband all this time.

I’ve heard the saying that they way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and while I believe that’s true, I found a quicker response is by letting my hands do the work. And by that I mean, touching his dick. How did I not know this all there years?!

He’s always been more affectionate and I’ve been the type that wants my space so he’s probably been deprived. So, I just touch it.

Want those shelves he’s been promising to make for the past two years?

Touch his dick.

Need to get something painted?

Touch it!

Have to get something fixed?

Touch it!

I was excited to tell my therapist about this discovery. After bitching to her for months about how I feel my marriage is getting off track, I went to a recent session and said I can’t believe all I have to do to get my husband to respond more to me in all ways is by nuzzling up to him and touching his dick!

After 21 years of marriage, it’s nice to feel like we’re getting back on track with our relationship.

And, it’s all thanks to dick.

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