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In-Law Apocalypse

Lock the doors!

Board the windows!

Run for cover!

Bend over and kiss your ass goodbye!

It’s the In-Law Apocalypse!!!!

My FIL kept on telling us about his Medicare policy and then seemed to forget he told us because he would then tell us all over again. Also his laugh, oh dear god, he laughs like Marty McFly’s dad, George, from Back To The Future. The in-laws are devoid of humor but anything my husband says makes them go into hysterics. I really don’t get it.

My MIL was her usual bitchy self and mostly I would give a long fuckyoubitchthisisnotyourhousesofuckoff sigh with whatever bitchy thing she said.

I found the best way to deal with them was by directing my attention somewhere else.

So, every time my father-in-law would try to give me one of his long ass lectures about who the hell cares what, I would either pretend I wasn’t hearing him and then walk off or say “oh, that’s nice” and tell my husband something so it would zip up the guy.

What I just don’t fucking get with the in-laws is that they’ve already invited themselves for their next visit.

Ummm, NO!

They want to be here for weeks with the baby bird.

That’s something I was talking to my therapist about, a wonderful woman, and she has me learning about “mindfulness“.

She told me there’s absolutely no reason I should feel guilty about letting the in-laws know that they don’t need to be here for weeks and that I need to think about what’s best for me… without feeling like such a bitch.


This is what I’ve needed to hear for years. I always think I’m depriving my husband of time with his parents and then I feel a lot of guilt but like Dr. Mindful says, I need to put our best interests first and not be run by the in-laws.

Every time the in-laws visit, it puts me under incredible stress, ha… like you couldn’t tell… and I really don’t want them here right after the baby bird is born. I really want to have the 4 of us to get in the groove first and bond, not have the in-laws here from the get go. They will be so much more of a hinderance to us than a help anyway.

Sure, I can deal with them being here (okay, not really) for a few days (nope), but fuck me backwards, not for weeks. I’m still baffled by how freaking oblivious my in-laws are when it comes to… everything! Personal space, boundaries, being assholes, you get my point.

So, thanks to Dr. Mindful, I’m starting to figure out how to say no, especially to the visits with the lecture man and the bitchy mcbitchster.


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A week? The in-laws will be here a whole f*cking week?!

My in-laws were supposed to come visit us in Maine this month but now that’s changed. Instead, they’ll be coming here for Thanksgiving… for a whole fucking week. OH DEAR GOD NOOOO!

I guess one thing I’ll have on my side is crazy pregnancy hormones. But still….


What’s even worse is since I’m knocked up, there’s no xanax or vodka to get me through this visit.


I can barely handle having them visit us for 2-3 days and that’s even when they stay at a hotel. This time they’ll be at our house the whole damn time.

Since the filter between my brain and mouth lessens when I’m pregnant, I say I should embrace the fuck out of that and if needed, say whatever the hell I want when they’re annoying the shit out of me.

My MIL has a stick permanently stuck in her ass and it only became worse after I had the little hummingbird. Who knows how much worse it will be now that I have another baby bird baking in the oven.

Believe it or not, I’ve shown as much respect to her as I could for years and years. I always say as little as possible when they’ve visited over the years. I’m not the sassy smart ass that I may come off ass in real like. Okay, I am, but I have to warm up to people before I show that side.

With the in-laws though, I learned early on from my husband that the less you say to them, the better.

But my MIL doesn’t let me off that easy. She knows how to make innocent chit chat and then when I start letting my guard down, her claws come out like Wolverine. Better yet, Freddy Kreuger.


Vodka, how you will be missed.


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Edward Lobstah Hands

Yesterday, my husband said he needed help with dinner. Of course I rushed down right away… after I took a shower and read some emails. Because I’m helpful like that. Ha!

I went downstairs into the kitchen and the first thing my husband said was to look into a boiling pot that was on the stove.

Ummmm…. Uhhh….

If it’s a boiled bunny in there, I’ll be wicked pissed, yo!

I had absolutely NO IDEA what to expect. None… nada, no clue.

I slowly opened up the lid. That’s when I saw an antennae… IN. THE. POT. It said, hey you, I’m coming to getcha!



I screamed like mad and ran the hell out of there. The hubby was loving it. Butthead.

When he took them out of the pot and let them cool down, he took the heads of the lobstahs and did some lobstah commentary.

“Hello, there. I’m delicious and I’m gonna get you!”


When he took the meat out that’s what she said, he strategically placed the lobstahs into the trash so the antennae would stick out… yeah, just to fuck with me.

Well played, my man, well played.

The lobstah was amazing and since I’m a food moaner, I pulled a When Harry Met Sally, that I’m sure the whole neighborhood could hear.


My husband considers this our induction to being true New Englanders.

Also, that damn lobstah is still in the trash can with its antennae sticking out.



* I let the hummingbird pick the song.

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For the first time, we have a house that makes me feel like a grown up. But what if I don’t want to grow up? I DON’T WANNA DO IT! Well, maybe I do.

house-11It was such a huge challenge trying to find a house in Maine during the summer. When we found our new house, we drove by it the day before we had the appointment to see it and I’m pretty sure I said “Holy fucking fuck! The house is AMAZING!!”

We could never get a house like this in California but the house here was nearly half the rent we were paying in military housing in CA.

I instantly fell in love with it. We were under so much pressure to find a house but I knew this one was the house. There are definitely house quirks we still haven’t gotten used to yet but I never even dreamed we could live in such a beautiful home.

It also comes with some anxiety since this is our first official grown-up house. The yard is huge and takes my husband over 2 hours to mow it once a week. I also find it funny that he’s now become a little obsessed with the length of our grass. Ha!

He has nearly 2 acres to mow, not an easy thing. We also have to worry about a generator, our water well, adding softener to the well water every 3 weeks, dealing with snow removal in our driveway, since it will be too big of a job do it ourselves, and the list goes on. Normally the places we’ve lived over the years didn’t require much work for the upkeep so it’s an adjustment.

We still have boxes lying around that we haven’t unpacked yet and the house is such a mess so it will be a little longer before we actually settle in.

For the first time since being here, I actually had a “it’s all good, we’ll do just fine here” moment last week. The hummingbird was playing on the tire swing while my husband and I were pushing her and I thought while the moment was so simple, it was the turning point for me to stop bitching so much about the move to Maine and how out of place I feel right now.



It made me see that my daughter is so happy here and the way of life is different here than in California. Not better or worse, just different… a slower pace and more laid back.

It’s something I’m still getting used to but I’m finally accepting that we’ll be here for the next 3 years. There are things that still leave me saying WTF? Like when I was on my way to pick the hummingbird up from preschool and got stuck behind a tractor on the highway.

Never really had that issue before. Haha!

Still feeling depressed because of the loss I had. I was making plans for a new baby that would be coming into this house next year so that’s been difficult to deal with.

But I see what a selfish bitch I’ve been because I see how happy my daughter is, which is the biggest priority, since starting school and playing regularly with the other kids in the neighborhood. Another thing she didn’t have in California.

I do feel a little lost though. My husband has his job, my daughter has preschool and will start kindergarten next year, but what the hell am I going to do here? We’ll besides writing, which reminds me. I found a screenwriting class here that starts in a few weeks and I’m so fucking excited. I’ve dreamed of doing this since I was in my early 20′s so this class is long overdue.

But I really would like to find a job here. Don’t get me wrong, I feel like I work with all the writing I do for this little blog and a few others but I want a job that gets me out of the house. I would hope the job would require writing but right now, I don’t really care since I’m going a little stir crazy being outside the city and in more of a country environment.

I haven’t had a job in quite a while since I mostly did volunteer work in the other places we lived. I’m doing that here too, but the literacy tutor program doesn’t start until October.

Okay, now I’m just rambling nonsense. But yeah, I’m at the point where my daughter’s getting older and I’m feeling I need to get it together and have more outside interests before I become crazier for not having a life while we’re here.

So, I’m finally relaxing a little more and starting to enjoy our new life in Maine.

The backyard doesn't seem like a big deal until...

The backyard doesn’t seem like a big deal until…

... you go up closer to the trees and see headstones.

… you get up closer to the trees and see headstones.

Yes, there's a cemetary behind our backyard. It doesn't bother me until night time. Then it's just fucking creepy.

Yes, there’s a cemetery behind our backyard. It doesn’t bother me until night-time. Then it’s just fucking creepy.

I promise that if people start crawling out of their graves and start dancing to Thriller, I’ll film it and post it on you tube. My husband says I shouldn’t hold my breath but you just never know.

If the zombies actually do the Thriller dance, my ass is having front row seats on the deck.

If the zombies actually do the Thriller dance, my ass is having front row seats on the deck.

*Why the Thriller dance, of course.

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The in-laws will be here in October. Who has a safe house I can stay at?

fuck this shit1

I found out the other night that I get another special visit from my-laws. HOLD ME!

My MIL is the supreme queen bitch. Always giving me shit for my parenting skills and she seems stuck in the 1950′s because she also gives me shit about the kind of wife I am.

She’s never thought I’ve been good enough and she never will so fuck it, right? Still, she stresses me out like crazy when she visits and I’ll eventually go hide in a room upstairs while they’re here because she just loves throwing shit my way.

Last night the hummingbird heard a few kids across the street from us playing outside. She asked if she could go over to play with them. My husband told her that it’s not polite but rude to go over to someone else’s house unless they invite you first.

Later, my bitch came out and I asked my hubby “So, if your parents invited themselves to visit in October, does that mean your parents are rude?” Yes, I have bitch moments and I’m also pmsing like a mofo.

But I also thought it was interesting that my hubby explained to our daughter what it means to be polite and his parent are ALWAYS inviting themselves to visit and are pretty damn pushy in the process.

Of course I get that they’re his parents and he’s going to defend them but I thought his response to my question was classic.

My husband said “No, they didn’t invite themselves. They just invited us to entertain the idea of them visiting in October”. He was being serious.


Okay, then.

What makes this upcoming visit with them even worse is that our new house is big enough for them to stay with us. Usually I insist to my husband that they stay in a hotel but there aren’t any close enough to our house. Noooooo!

I’m not sure how long they’ll be staying yet but whether it’s 2 days or a week, my monthly Xanax supply will be taking a big hit.

*Four Kicks

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I thought I was dealing the best that I could with the loss  I had.

The miscarriage.

There I was, strutting my shit on the elliptical machine in the hotel gym room the other day, with only a few minutes left.

I had my iPod on shuffle and the Kings Of Leon, Milk, came on.

I thought I was dealing with my feelings okay considering the circumstances but that song brought out all my hurt and pain I felt about losing the baby that I wanted so much.

I had all these dreams and hopes for this child.

It made me want to scream out and just crumple onto the floor. I had no idea just how much the loss was affecting me until that moment.

I think my feelings about the loss were numb until that day.

The only words I could utter to my husband later that night was that my heart is so broken.

My heart breaks for the baby that never will be.

I love you, my little peanut.


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A middle finger salute.

Our room in Venice Beach had a fantastic view.

Our room in Venice Beach had a fantastic view.

I’ve had some kind of plague since last week so I’ve pretty much abandoned my blog so I don’t cough on all of you and get you sick too. Here’s what’s been happening since last week.


We went to Venice Beach and stayed in a hotel right on the boardwalk which was really nice. I couldn’t get a hold of my sperm donor and was starting to relax while we were there. Then on Saturday night he called and we set up lunch for the next day.

I was a fucking wreck. On Sunday morning while the hummingbird and the hubby went to a playground while I got ready, I walked around our hotel room like I just had a lobotomy. I even started cleaning our room. People, I don’t even clean my own fucking house so you know I was stressing.

It went okay. It was awkward and strange and I discovered there’s still a lot that I haven’t been able to forgive him for. But the hummingbird started to warm up to him and his girlfriend so that was nice to see.


On Wednesday, we FINALLY got our official orders from the Navy for our move to the Bath/Brunswick, Maine area. About fucking time, military asshats! While most people got their orders 3-4 months ago, we get ours 2-3 weeks before we move so I would like to give a middle finger salute to the idiots who took their sweet ass time.

Moving is stressful enough but the miltary has been going back and forth for months about this upcoming move which has left me stabby.

Waiting for the official orders put us at a stand still and now with such little notice, this expensive move will be even more expensive because of it…. plane tickets, renting our house, movers, etc. June is such a busy month for the military around here so we’re hoping we can extend staying here for a bit longer than we thought, even if it’s just a week, to help prevent too much chaos.

So, New England, I can’t wait to see you and I’m so ready to be there. Also, everyone in the area has an open invitation to help us find a house and help us unpack. No? Don’t blame you. Heh!

Updated to add: We just got our move date to Maine. It’s on the 27th. Oy vey!


Back to Venice Beach. We had such a great time even though the drive made us all a little crazy. The hummingbird made it extra fun. I would always tell her to use the bathroom before we left a rest stop or a restaurant. Then, like 2 minutes later, after we would just be getting back on the freeway, she would say she has to go potty.

So, the hubby and I would have to hear… “I have to go potty. I have to go potty. I have to poop. I have to go potty. I have to POOP! I NEED TO POTTY. I have to pee. I have to pee. I have to go potty.”…. until we stopped again. Good times! And to think my husband wanted us to drive from Northern California to Maine. OH, HELL NO!

*Oh yeah, I’ll be starting a book giveaway on Monday so make sure to check it out. It’s such a great book that will have you laughing your ass off. Here’s the book I’ll be giving away… I Just Want To Pee Alone.

*Des’ree ~ You Gotta Be

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