Leave.

She sat on the floor next to the bed, crying. The impact of his punch to her face had caused ringing in her left ear. She felt her eye swelling up.

She tried leaving before but she would always come back.

He would give her empty promises of it never happening again and things would seem fine for a few days.

It would always be so easy to believe. Her false sense of security would come back.

He would start calling her a bitch again, telling her she’s fucking useless, calling her a slut just for talking to one of his friends.

She finally got herself up off of the floor and walked to the bathroom to see the damage that was done. The ringing in her ear finally stopped and now everything sounded muffled.

When she saw the bruising on her face, the tears started again. Why can’t she just break away from him? She’s been putting up with this shit for a year and a half.

She’s young, 19, and she already feels nothing good will ever come her way.

The longer she looks at her bruised face, her hopelessness turns to anger. How dare he lay a hand on her. How dare he call her a bitch.

She packs up some things and leaves. He doesn’t stop her because he knows she’ll be back. And she is, 3 days later. 3 days of him saying I’m sorry, I love you, It will never happen again.

After she comes back, the cycle starts again. At first he’s on his best behavior. Then the yelling begins. Why did you look at him you fucking bitch? You just said you would be gone for an hour. What were you doing? Who were you with?

He goes back to using his fists to show what kind of man he is. A pathetic man. A fucking coward.

Like all the other times, he says he’s sorry and begs her to stay.

She’s done. She knows she deserves much better. Believing that she deserves better takes longer to accept.

She leaves but this time, the fourth time, it’s for good. He makes her life hell for several more months and threatens her but she doesn’t come back.

She’s finally free. And happy.

I’m finally free.

No matter what he tells you, there is nothing in this world that makes you deserve to be physically, verbally, or emotionally abused. Nothing At All.

Comments { 7 }

Just to be clear, this is not a sweet post. There are stabby feelings involved.

The little hummingbird’s 2nd BIRTHDAY!! is next Friday and this birthday seems harder than her first. She’s growing up so fast!

She’s getting her hair trimmed for the first time this Saturday, expect pictures of her or possibly me crying, and she’s also starting her toddler gymnastics class this weekend.

I’m hoping the class will tire her out just a little because jeebus, her energy is neverending!

When my mom first came to visit after my little girl was born, she kept saying “they grow up so fast”. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her, it’s just at the time it didn’t sound so bad since it might mean I wouldn’t be so sleep deprived.

When I see new parents, I find myself saying the same thing to them but I’m sure they’re thinking what I did, “Uh huh, okay, sure”.

What I didn’t know back when my daughter was first born was that once you become a parent, you will forever be sleep deprived, whether it’s because of teething (the hummingbird is getting three new teeth and has been waking up in the middle of the night) or worry.

When I was looking for the photo I took to show my husband’s inability to hang up clothes heh in my last post, I came across one of my absolute favorite pictures of my little girl. She wasn’t quite 3 months old, she didn’t have that much head control, and she wasn’t able to sit up on her own yet.

I was holding her up on her changing table with one hand and trying to take the picture with my other while making sure she didn’t topple over.

The outfit she was wearing was also my favorite and her baby mohawk was pretty tame that day.

I finally got the sense to prop her up in the glider so I wouldn’t have to juggle her and the camera.

Here’s one that shows her baby mohawk better.

I had just gotten that barrette and since the company said it would stay in with just a tiny bit of hair, I wanted to see for myself. That’s why I put it in such a weird place. The hummingbird slept through the whole thing.

That barrette and many others got a lot of mileage because people were always calling her a boy.

We even got pink bunny covers to put on the straps of her carrier and there would still be someone who would ask what our little boy’s name was or tell us that we have such a cute little boy.

Even though my hubby and I were trying to avoid a lot of pink, we started putting her in more and more pink clothes to make it obvious that no, she wasn’t a little boy.

One day we put her in a pink shirt with jeans and a pink barrette in her hair. We went to the grocery store and had her in her carrier with her pink bunny cover straps and a pink blanket. She looked like baby Pepto Bismol.

We made it through the store without anyone calling her a boy.

While we were checking out, the cashier smiled and said “your little boy is adorable”.

Stab, stab, stab.

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I’m convinced my husband’s brain is wired in such a way that he never feels the need to refill anything, ever.

My husband seems to have a problem when it comes to refilling anything. The hand soap, putting on a new roll of toilet paper, diaper wipes, paper towels, and on it goes.

He had put the little hummingbird down for a nap yesterday a nap she never took because ahhh! she rarely naps anymore and changed her diaper before laying her down. Then he went outside for awhile to work on some lesson plans for his class.

The hummingbird was bouncing around her crib and when I walked into her room to check on her, I smelled that her diaper was a ginormous doozy.

She just loves to stick her hand in her diaper once I open it up so before I even got her out of her crib, I went to take some wipes out to get ready for a fast wipe down.

That’s when I saw my hubby left me with this:

One freaking wipe. I guess one is better than none but why in the world is it so hard for him to refill this stuff?

Did he suffer some traumatic event in his childhood that causes him to leave one wipe, one sheet of toilet paper, and one paper towel on the roll?

Does he have some kind of refill phobia? Paper phobia? Perhaps a liquid soap phobia? Enquiring minds want to know!

My husband also seems to have a problem with hanging up clothes and folding laundry. To his credit, he does help with laundry but it looks like he literally throws the clothes onto hangers.

I end up having to go back and redo most things. When I’ve pointed this out to him before, he saw nothing wrong with how he folds and hangs clothes.

Let me submit this picture into evidence:

It was taken about a year and a half ago it’s the only photographic proof I have since I don’t normally take a picture of the way my hubby hangs up clothes every time. what do you think I am? a crazy person? okay, don’t answer that. and when I saw how he just threw the little hummingbird’s shirt onto a hanger, I tried to fix it. He got all defensive so I did what anyone else would do.

I let him keep it that way and he hung up our little girl’s clothes in her closet.

Then I waited until he went downstairs, crept into her room while she slept, took the shirt from her closet, went out into the hallway to take a picture, fixed the shirt, then put it back into her closet.

Totally sane. That’s me!

Comments { 7 }

I’m thinking…ruh roh.

I know, I can’t believe this is my second post of the day. I won’t do it again. Well, maybe, maybe not.

This isn’t even a real post but I’ve been thinking about something recently and need to ask what you think.

When I began my blog, I used to always compare myself to the awesome and established bloggers.

I’m finally over that now but for the past few weeks I’ve been questioning myself when it comes to what I write. There are several blogs I love that write about normal and sweet things.

I’m all over the board when it comes to what I write about and every now and then what I write might be considered normal and sweet…maybe, kind of?

My daughter’s 2nd BIRTHDAY!! is coming up in less than two weeks so I’m sure I’ll be all mushy.

She also has her first haircut next weekend which I’m hyperventilating over because that means she’s not a baby anymore.

It’s only going to be a teeny tiny trim, nothing major, but I’m still walking around the house saying “Noooo, not my babeh!”

Where was I? Oh yeah, most of what I write is, well, a lot a little weird and different. Wanting to strangle my hubby for unneccessary comments while watching television, strange things my daughter puts in my shoe, poopy diapers, toddler PMS…..

I’m starting to think maybe I should just write like a normal person.

My husband has heard me talk about this several times so instead of having him strangle me over talking about it, what do you think?

Should I keep on keeping on being um, different or try my hand at normal, whatever that is?

*I know I should (and will) write whatever I feel like but lately, since I’ve been feeling like the odd one out, I wanted another opinion besides my husband saying “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?! Why do you always bring up these things now?”

Comments { 12 }

My Dearest Tobias…..

I’ve only revealed your real name on my blog once before. I was leary when we first met and didn’t want to become too attached to you but I quickly fell in love.

It doesn’t hurt that you let me have my way most of the time and let me say whatever I want without judging me.

We’ve had some glitches here and there but we’re always able to work through it.

Then without any warning, you just stopped communicating.

I tried to figure out what was wrong but no matter what I did you haven’t been the same.

What’s the deal, Tobias?

I really miss what we had. I hate that I’m the one giving my all while you just sit there doing nothing.

You had to leave to resolve some of your issues but you weren’t gone that long.

When you came back home things seemed okay but you’ve gotten into the same routine of shutting me out.

Now you’re gone again and I just don’t know if things will be the same anymore but I’m hoping for the best and can’t wait to get my hands on you.

My Dearest Tobias….

computer viruses suck ass and I hope you’re back to all of your laptop glory soon.  :^)

Comments { 0 }

Maisy.

I have happy news!

I’m not pregnant because if that was the happy news, I wouldn’t be able to write this. Instead, I would be stuck with my head in the toilet, puking my guts out and saying over and over again “What was I thinking?” or “When the hell am I gonna get that damn glow that I hear everyone talking about?”

We have a new addition, a sweet kitty!

As you may or may not know, our cat that we’ve had for nearly 15 years, Zira, went missing on March 4th when a dumbass repairman came over and apparently left the door open while he was going back and forth to his truck. My hubby and I are still crushed.

I’ve been wanting to get a second cat for some time but my husband was less than thrilled with the idea. With Zira missing, he started to warm up to the idea.

We went to an animal rescue center just to look but it’s hard not wanting to adopt all of the animals while there. I don’t want to be known as the Kelsey Grammer of cats by going from one to another but we saw a kitty that we loved.

We went to look at other cats a few days later but kept on thinking of the kitty we saw earlier in the week. When we went back to see her, we knew we had to adopt her. We got her two days later, on St. Patrick’s Day, and just a day before my in-laws came to visit.

My husband and I couldn’t agree on a name for our cat. I think we had an easier time naming our daughter but we finally settled on Maisy (like Daisy). After a few weeks with us, her full name has turned into Maisy Daze Sweet Potato Purr Muffin.

I know what you’re thinking. Her name is the most regal name ever!

My mother-in-law welcomed our new kitty into the family by calling her fat and said she needs to go on a diet. Yes, seriously. I’m surprised she didn’t show Maisy a picture of when she was a newborn kitten and told her “maybe now you’ll think about losing some weight”.

The animal rescue center didn’t know much about her history. She’s at least a year old (we think she’s probably a few years old) and was found in August of last year. She had kittens back then and was put in a foster home.

Once the kittens were weaned, Maisy was at the main animal rescue center (it wasn’t the SPCA) and at pet store adoption centers for the last 7 months.

When we decided that she was the kitty for us and wanted to adopt her, the woman who does the adoptions wasn’t going to be there the next day. Even though we only had to wait a few days, it felt awful knowing she had to spend even more time alone in a cage.

She’s home now though! Maisy is such a sweetie and the little hummingbird loves our new kit-tay.

Here are some pics of our adorable Maisy Daze.

Sleepy kitty.

I love her little paws.

She can't resist laying on warm, clean clothes.

The little hummingbird makes sure Maisy has plenty of books to read.

If the kitty isn't going to use her bed then I will.

Comments { 7 }

My pathetic attempt at cooking; weeks 1-3.


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