Life as a Mommy

Being a mommy is not an easy job. Being a mommy to two is even harder. Here is an inside look to my new life as mommy to two:

• You no longer have time for regular showers. Most of my showers consist of a change of clothes, some Suave professionals Dry Shampoo, a spritz of perfume, and some deodorant. All of this is done in the two minutes I have to slip away to the bathroom.

• You don't sit down to eat. You don't even make meals for yourself. You grab whatever you can find within arms reach and shove it in your mouth as you're hurrying to make breakfast/lunch/dinner/snack for baby #1

• Accept the mess. When you're holding and feeding an infant, baby #1 is bound to do something destructive, whether it be spilling her snack on the floor, ripping up her coloring books, taking all the batteries out of the remotes, or even, breaking her arm.

• The only "me" time you're going to get is going to be those few hours of silence between approximately midnight and 2am, when the infant wakes up. You can either take this time to try to get some sleep, or you can just sit there and enjoy the silence. Your choice.

• There is no such thing as sleep anymore. Between the two kids, someone will be up at every hour. The only sleep you'll be getting is the few minutes you can contain #1's destructiveness and #2 is not in need of anything. Do not think that night time means sleep. You'll be extremely disappointed.

• Do realize though, that as hard as it is, being a mommy is the most amazing rewarding experience in the entire world, and there is nothing I would trade it for. <3

Uncharted Territory

I've suffered from severe depression my whole life. I've tried many medications, and therapists, and programs, and nothing has seemed to work. If it did work, it was never for long. After so many years, I've accepted that this will be something I struggle with my entire life. I'd always have that heavy, empty feeling in my chest. I'd always have those thoughts telling me that I was worth nothing, that I don't deserve the life I was given, that nothing I ever did or ever would do could possibly matter.

As you may know, I recently had another baby. The one thing I feared more than anything was that I would have PPD like I did with my first. It was so bad I literally do not remember the first few months of my daughters life. I'd only recently asked friends and family about it, and I can't believe some of the things they've told me. I wouldn't let anyone near me or my daughter. I would lock myself in my room all day. I stopped talking to my family. After a month or so, I stopped taking care of Krystal. My mother would take her all day as I sat in my room and did nothing. I told my friends how I wanted to kill myself, and how I hated my daughter. I started drinking. And you know what? I remember none of this. I remember VERY little from about the first week of her being born to about 3 months. I remember taking a picture of a bee. I remember buying a roll of tape from Walgreens. I remember sitting in the secret office at my OB as she asked me how I felt towards my baby, and her calling the hospital and telling them I needed admitted immediately. And that's it. The first 3 months of my daughter's life and all I remember are those 3 little details. And that's only after talking to my friends about it for weeks and trying to figure out what happened.

Good news though. I believe I'm PPD-free this time, and I'm not even on medication. Sure, I get overwhelmed on occasion. Of course I get mad when Krystal doesn't listen. But I don't have that empty, sad, hopeless feeling I've experienced for so many years. I actually feel normal, and it feels amazing.

I hope this feeling stays. I hope I can be happy. I finally love my life, and I absolutely love my little family.

Welcome to the World, Grayson!

While it's still fairly fresh on my mind, I figured I'd write Grayson's "birth" story, in every detail I remember. So here it is :)

I'm pretty sure that my labor started on Sunday. I felt really, really "normal". The few days before I'd been completely exhausted and sick and tired, but Saturday and Sunday I felt completely fine and figured that I was far, far away from having this baby. Sunday I mostly just relaxed, I wasn't really tired, I just felt like I should take it easy. I figured it was just from my sister's wedding the previous day that I was exhausted. I sat around a lot, and noticed I had A LOT of Braxton Hicks contractions. I've had a lot the past few weeks, enough to where I've called my doctor a few times and been sent to L&D, but I didn't even care this time. I was 37 weeks, if they were going to turn into anything this time it was fine.

Around 2am I started feeling a little crampy, but I thought it was just an upset stomach, so I went to bed. I had a dream I was playing my Nintendo 3DS, but kept getting really bad stomach cramps and couldn't play. Eventually, they woke me up. It was around 4am now, and I remember thinking about what an odd, painful dream I was having. I had another one, and still kind of ignored it, thinking I was still sleeping. About 20 minutes later they were uncomfortable enough I couldn't ignore them anymore, and I got out of bed and walked around and got some water and stuff. Krystal woke up too and followed me to the living room.

Over the next hour they kept getting worse. I realized I was actually having contractions. I sat on my exercise ball and waited to see if they would go away since I drank water and was moving around and stuff. Nope! Krystal even came up to me once while I was having a contraction and grabbed my belly and said, "Mommy! Mommy! You ok? You ok?!" She was so concerned and it was so adorable :) I got her something to eat and put on some Mickey Mouse for her and went downstairs and got my mom. (I didn't want to wake Matt up for nothing. I also just wanted my mommy...)

My mom comes upstairs and we're sitting in the living room and the contractions keep getting worse. Around 6am they're getting bad enough that I can't walk or talk through them anymore. I'm still in denial, but my mom calls the doctor. The contractions are about 5-10 minutes apart at this point. The doctor tells me to go to L&D, and while my mom is finding a babysitter I spend half an hour telling Matt to call off work then changing my mind and telling him to go to work. I finally decide he's calling off work.

We get to the hospital around 7:20am, and they get me set up on the monitors and everything. I'm having contractions every 5-10 minutes still, which isn't as "normal" as they like. They just keep me there, and check me at 10:30. 3cm and 90% effaced. I was 3cm and 50% effaced last time at my doctor, so they tell me they'll check me one more time in a few hours. Around 11:30 the contractions start hurting so bad I asked for pain medication. They gave me something with an 'S', and I fell asleep for about 30 minutes. Of course it didn't work for long, and I felt woozy and in pain. Around 12:30 they checked me again and nothing changed. They called my doctor, who said I wasn't in labor, and they sent me home. The nurse was almost crying for me, she knew I shouldn't be going home but there was nothing she could do.

The next few hours were pretty hard. I did not want to go back to the hospital, because I was stubborn and angry. I walked around the living room, ending up on the floor for the most part. My contractions started coming about every 5 minutes and were getting stronger and stronger. I still didn't want to go back. My mom called the doctor again though, and I talked to the nurse. I was told to walk around and drink water. Sorry lady, that doesn't stop labor. Luckily for me, I had a contraction on the phone, started crying, and she put me on hold to talk to the doctor. A few seconds later she came back and told me it was time for me to go to the hospital. I got my stuff back together and tried to make it to the car before I had another contraction, but ended up laying in the yard for a minute while my dad had Matt move the car closer. After that, I ran to the car and we were on our way back to the hospital.

We got back around 4:30 or so and they put me back in a room. It seemed to take forever to get set up. Probably about 45 minutes after we got there the doctor finally came in to check me again. Finally! I was 4cm! I'm "in labor" now! It's official! I got admitted and immediately asked for the epidural. The pain was killing me. I was told they'd get it for me as soon as possible, they had a twin c-section to deal with first.

The next few hours were hell. No pain medication, no epidural. My contractions were coming every 3 minutes and lasting over a minute and a half. Every time a nurse came in they told me that I was going to get my epidural soon. Around 7:00 the nurse checks me, I'm at 5cm. Woohoo, don't care, get me the epidural. Soon after, the anesthesiologists come in the room. I cannot explain how excited I was. Of course, it doesn't matter. It takes them almost an hour to get the stupid thing in. They had to try so many times, and they kept stopping during my contractions, which was probably best, because I really couldn't stay still through them at this point. Finally, a little after 8, they get it in. About half an hour later, it's working and they check me again. I'm already at 10. It's time to push. (This would explain why it still hurt!)

They call the doctor and I try to ignore the fact that I feel like I really have to push. I try to relax and wait for the doctor. She gets there a little after 9, we get set up, and it's time! After 3 short pushes, my baby boy is born. :)

And that's it! That's the story of him coming into the world. It was a long day, but it was perfect!

Grayson Michael James 6lbs 14oz, 19in

Childbirth.

If you haven't already, please read my post about my daughter's birth before you read this one. It'll make a lot more sense. That post can be found here.

The thought of going through the process of childbirth again is horrifying to me. It's more than horrifying. It's nauseating. It's disgusting. It's... I'm not sure I can find words to actually fully describe how I feel about childbirth.

Now, I haven't always felt this way. I used to think childbirth was the magical, amazing process of bringing a new life into this world. Sure, there were some gross parts, but that's just part of it. Not all that much you can do. And in the end, you get to meet this amazing little person that's been growing inside of you for the past 9 months.

Now my views are completely different. Childbirth is a completely disgusting process. There are no other words for it. Every aspect of it is horrible. There's nothing separating you from your neighbor's dog who just birthed a litter of puppies a week ago. You just sit there as your stomach contracts and forces a giant gooey ball of child out of your body, all while you're sitting there moaning in pain and looking like a monkey in a zoo.

And it's not like you're going through this in private. You're sitting there constantly being watched and monitored by nurses. Nurses who also probably think you look like some kind of wild, dying animal.

I don't want to be humiliated again. I've already come to terms with the fact that yes, I will have to birth another child here shortly. I'm 7 months pregnant. For some reason when getting pregnant I hadn't really thought about the fact that they have to come out eventually. That probably would have altered my decision a bit about getting pregnant in the first place.

I do not want to be induced again, but I fear for my own safety if I go into labor on my own. Why would I willingly share the information that I'm in labor? That I have to go to the hospital? Why would I put myself in that position of vulnerability again? I keep telling myself that if I were to go into labor naturally, I would probably lock myself in my room and not tell anyone. I would just sit in my room, as quietly as I could manage, and avoid the hospital all together. But that is incredibly stupid. What if something went wrong? My selfishness could be deadly.

I don't know what I'll do when it's time for Grayson to make his grand appearance. Hopefully I'll be smart and selfless enough to get myself to the hospital. But I feel like I'm brewing up a brand new batch of crazy over here, so there's no guarantees.

Krystal's Birth

Technically I would say it started on the Tuesday before she was born. I went into my appointment, and my doctor asked me, "How do you feel about having her Wednesday?" I said sure, then I freaked out. It was Tuesday. Which meant that the next day was Wednesday. I asked her if she meant the next day, or the Wednesday after. "Tomorrow," she said. I still said yes, and wasn't fully aware of what I'd just agreed to.

That night I couldn't sleep. I was supposed to go in at 6am the next morning, but I couldn't sleep if my life depended on in. Finally, 6am rolls around, and we head to the hospital. The get me checked in and set up in this tiny little room where they start hooking up IV's. Problem with this is, no one can get the stupid things in my hands. I get stuck no less than 5 times in each hand before someone else finally steps in and tries, twice. Eventually they get it set up. Some time later they take me to the room I'll be actually delivering in.

They get me set up with a little sheet and start hooking up the pitocin and whatever else. They put a blood pressure cuff on that goes off every once in awhile. I'm not sure if you ever had 5 needle marks in your hand and then had your blood pressure taken, but it hurts SO bad. It felt like there was just so much pressure building up in my hand, and my hand was very close to exploding in pain.

The contractions started off slow and barely noticeable, but it wasn't long before I started getting the aches in my hips and my back. I remember it was only about 11 o' clock before I asked for some pain medication. The lack of sleep from the day before mixed with the medicine let me fall asleep almost immediately. I was probably asleep for 30 minutes before the contractions woke me up. I know I wasn't asleep for long, because I was still completely out of it when I woke up. They checked me, I was at 4 centimeters, which was basically nothing since I came in at 2. They decided to break my water then, which I only remember as being gross. My mom says I wouldn't stop talking about it (I was still under the influence of the pain medication).

More time passes, the contractions are getting worse and worse and I'm not getting any breaks between them. They're constant and intense, and I'm pretty sure my back is about to split in half and my hips are about to shatter. I can't stop crying and I feel sick. I don't think I was even 6 centimeters dilated yet. Although the thought of getting an epidural never even crossed my mind, I was asking for one now. Epidurals are terrifying. They put needles in your spine. I never, ever wanted one, but I couldn't deal with the pain. It took awhile for the anesthesiologist to get in the room, I think he was doing a c-section or something. He gets in and explains the procedure and risks and all that and then they make everyone leave the room. I begged for my mom or someone to stay because I was so scared but they made everyone leave. I don't get why I couldn't have someone stand in the corner of the room but whatever. They made me lean over this thing and I just freaked out. I didn't want to do it yet. I was scared. I asked for them to wait a minute but the nurse held me down. I screamed and cried and screamed some more.

Finally they get the epidural in and the nurse tells me I made a big deal out of nothing. I lay back down in bed and my family comes back in. The pain is gone for now and I can kind of relax. Then they decide it's time to monitor the baby better. How do you do that? You screw a little metal springy thing into the top of their heads. I recall not wanting it, but was told that I needed it.

I'm still not progressing very well, so they decide to flip me to my stomach over the side of the bed. Not something that works very well when you don't have any control of your legs anymore. Then the springy monitor falls off, and they freak out and flip me over again (where they find out the monitor fell off) and keep trying to get it on again. They finally give up because Krystal's hair was too thick and they couldn't get it to stay on.

I'm about at an 8 now, and the epidural feels like it's starting to wear off. My hips feel like they're about to shatter and my back hurts soooo bad. I tell the nurse I'm in a lot of pain and she tells me there's nothing she can do because I'm fine. Then she tells me it's time for me to practice pushing. I didn't want to. I'd never heard of someone practicing how to push. Then she took my sheet off of me and told me I had to. I try, and I can't. It hurts too bad. There's no point in it (at least not that I know of) and this nurse is just being a bitch. I keep trying and I'm so upset she took my sheet and I'm just exposed to the world while pushing for no reason I just start crying. I'm crying so hard I can't even breathe and I'm starting to feel sick. All I wanted was my stupid sheet back. Finally the nurse gives up and gives me my sheet back and leaves me alone.

About an hour later, I think it was actually time to push. The pain was so bad in my hips I could barely take it. I remember they had taken the sheet off of me again, and hiked my gown all the way up. I kept trying to put my gown down a little bit more, but they wouldn't let me. Then, half of my freaking family walks in, because the nurse didn't feel it necessary to shut the door. There was even a curtain they could've wrapped around the door, but she didn't even close that. So, surprise! It was absolutely humiliating. My mom mentioned it to the nurse the door was still open and all she said was "Oops." and shut the door.

Anyways, I pushed for 30 minutes as hard as I possibly could and Krystal was born. They put her right on my stomach, and I scooped her up and just thought she was amazing. I barely remember it though, because I literally pushed until I thought I was going to pass out. You're only supposed to do it for 10 seconds or whatever, I didn't care. I wanted it over. I wanted to be covered up and get these people away from me.

After I held her for a few minutes or however long they took her to clean her up and do everything. I got to hold her again afterwards, and then I'm guessing they took her again for something as I got moved to the recovery room.

I don't really remember going from the delivery room to the recovery room, but I do remember actually getting there. There were two nurses there to help me around, since I had no use of my legs. They wheeled me into my room and said I had to go to the bathroom before they put me in my bed. I didn't have to go. I didn't have anything to drink in at least 15 hours or so and had a catheter because of the epidural. They made me go anyway, and while struggling to get me into the bathroom my gown fell off. I already felt gross and dirty and ashamed from how I was treated during the delivery, all I wanted was my gown back. She wouldn't give it to me. I told her I couldn't go and she started squirting me with a squirt bottle. I finally was able to go, and she finally gives me my gown back.

The nurses are really rough with me getting me into the bed, and once I'm finally in I close my eyes for a few seconds because I'm so exhausted. This is when the nurse quietly mentions to the other that she never tells anyone her real name so she can't get reported. Then they bring Krystal into the room. The nurse asks me if she's been fed yet. I said I didn't know, because I wasn't sure if they gave her a bottle or something yet. I wasn't sure how everything worked. She asked it *I* fed her, and I said no. I had just gotten her like 2 seconds ago. She asks if I'm bottlefeeding or breastfeeding, and I tell her I wanted to breastfeed but I really wasn't sure what to do. After a rude comment on how it's so simple and my baby was starving, she takes to gown off my shoulder and forcefully shoves my boob into Krystal's mouth. After an eye roll and another rude comment about my lack of whatever you want to call it (mothering instinct? Intelligence? Who knows). She leaves. Then it's just me and Krystal. Visitors come in and out next day but for the most part it's just Krystal and myself.

And that's it. Apparently shortly after I came home I locked myself in my room for a few months and refused to talk to anyone other than a few select friends online. I don't remember much from her birth until I got help for PPD.

But yeah, it was possibly the most horrifying, terrible, most degrading experience of my entire life. And I wish I never had to do it again, but I do. And soon.

P.S. All that said, I'd do it all 1,000,000x over to have my baby girl here. She's my world. Despite the way I was treated, holding her for the first time still managed to be one of the happiest moments of my life. <3

Emotions and Pain

You probably think this post is going to be some long boring rant about how miserable I am or something, but it isn't. Well, not really. Let me explain.

I am not "allowed" to feel emotion. You know how boys are taught not to cry? I get in trouble any time I'm anything other than happy and healthy. I'm not allowed to get frustrated, or angry, or sad. I'm either being a bitch or trying to get attention.

Example: My grandmother passed away last year. She had cancer and there was nothing that could be done. I remember one time I was sitting in the living room, and I was thinking about everything, and I started crying. Nothing over the top, I don't think I even made a noise. Just a tear fell down my face. I was immediately asked "What the fuck my problem was." I said I was just upset about the situation. Who wouldn't be? But my emotions and feelings were wrong. I was told that I didn't understand. Basically, I shouldn't have any emotions on the situation, because I wasn't as close to her as other people were.

Every time I get mad about anything I'm told that I need to stop "being a bitch". I am not allowed to get aggravated that I constantly ask people to not throw food in the sink, and it keeps happening. I'm not allowed to be upset that the cat walks on the tables and counters, leaving dirty little kitty prints everywhere. I'm not allowed to get angry that Krystal is ripping pages out of her book and hitting me and screaming and causing trouble. I'm not allowed to get angry. There is no such thing as angry. It's me over-reacting and "being a bitch". I don't even know what is "justifiable anger" or is just me being crazy. Apparently everything I get upset about is unreasonable and crazy, so I feel guilty and stupid about my emotions.

I'm just not allowed to feel anything other than happiness. I'm 7 months pregnant and (already) can barely walk. I fell down the other day and was yelled at not to say a damn thing about my aches and pains, I didn't work all day. Yes I did. I woke up early and made enough potato casserole to feed 40+ people. All the chopping and cooking wasn't exactly easy. It took me three hours just to get it all in the oven. Then I had to try to keep the kitchen semi-clean (I totally failed there) and I had to watch the spaghetti sauce to make sure it didn't burn. I delivered the food and helped get everything set up. I helped in the kitchen. I helped put the food away. I had to make sure Matt was ok all day. Then I had to of course play with Krystal, get her food, all the regular mommy duties. At the end of the day I cleaned up her playroom, and was getting ready for bed. I could barely walk between the pain in my ankles and the pain in my hips and back. That's why I fell. But even my pain is wrong.

It's not fair. I had the stomach flu and was stuck in bed for two days with a fever throwing up every 15 minutes. I was told I was a bad mother. I couldn't watch her. I tried anyway. It was fun teaching her not to lean over the toilet constantly and make puking noises. I'm glad she didn't get sick though.

Apparently, life as a stay at home mom is nothing but pure joy and health. There is no reason for me to ever be anything other than happy. There is nothing stopping me from keeping the house spotless at all times. All this extreme joy and laziness I get from staying at home should even be enough to fight off the worst of flus.

Don't even get me started on trying to have "opinions". This post would never end.

Warning: Very Sensitive Issue

This is my blog. These are my feelings. I know some things should be thought and not said, but some of those things will eat at you until you get them off your chest. This post is about stillborn babies. If you do not want to read it I advise you stop reading now. This is an incredibly sensitive topic, and I do not mean to offend anyone. I am only speaking my person feelings.

I know of someone who recently lost their baby. I don't think that any person on the face of the earth should have to deal with losing a child, in utero or already born. I can't possibly imagine the pain of losing someone who never had a chance at life. Someone you were waiting so anxiously to hold, and to love. I hope and pray every day that I never have to feel that pain, and my heart aches for every mother that has had to deal with that loss.

Now, here's where I get to the sensitive issue, as this is clearly not a one-size-fits-all problem. Death to me is something I'm not very comfortable with. The thought of it is just terrifying. Some people are okay with it, I'm just... not. I don't understand posting pictures of your stillborn child on social networking sites. I didn't have a choice whether or not I saw that picture. There is was, right at the top of my news feed. I just looked at it, kind of in shock. This baby is not alive is the only thing my brain would let me think. I kept telling myself this is still her baby, her precious baby that she wanted, and loved. But at the same time I couldn't handle it at all. This tiny little person, dressed in white, she just looked so broken.

I can't get that picture out of my head. I'm truly sorry for her loss, but I feel as if the picture was a bit much. I felt so guilty about my feelings. I still do. I feel disturbed and incredibly upset. But it's just an innocent baby. Her innocent baby. Her angel. Her Facebook. She has every right to post anything she wishes.

I have no idea what I would do if I was ever faced with a situation like this. I would want to take pictures. They would be the only memory I had of my little one. But would I share them with Facebook? I want to say no. If I felt the need to share them, I would ask who would like to see them, instead of just posting them without warning. But I would probably keep them to myself. They would be my private pictures. Not in a shameful way, but in a personal way.

I still feel like absolute dirt for how I feel about this. I completely understand why you would want to share your child with your friends. But it's a very sensitive issue, and I just feel like there should've been some cover over it, instead of just thrown out there.

Again, I'm sorry if this offended someone. I just had to get that off my chest.

Robin's Rules

Whether you know me in real life or online, you probably know that I complain a lot and freak out over the tiniest little things. I, in my mind, consider these freak-outs to be completely legitimate and reasonable.  I even have a "list" of things that specifically bother me, and to avoid anymore confusion, I will post that list, in no particular order.

1. Load the Dishwasher Properly
There are many, many things that annoy me about how people load the dishwasher at my house. So, I will list them all, so there are no questions.

Problem 1.

Alrighty, so that above is a basic dishwasher. Ours has two racks, one at the bottom, of course, and then one on top, above the upper spray arm. Here's the deal. The two spray arms are responsible for getting your dishes clean. The water pressure builds up in the arms and causes them to spin.


How is that a problem? Well, this is a two part problem, because there are two arms. For some reason, people don't understand that when you load the dishwasher you have to keep things out of the way of the arms. This means no spatulas hanging from the bottom rack, and nothing too tall on the top rack. If you have either of these going on, your dishes are not going to get clean. It is pointless. And could be completely avoided by loading the dishwasher properly.

Problem 2.

Notice how the dishwasher is loaded. This is a properly loaded dishwasher. Plates at the bottom, cups at the top. Now I personally put the bowls on top, but when they are stacked "up" and not laying face down, they will still get properly cleaned. Also notice that the silverware is pointing up. The reason for this is that when you put the silverware with food on it upside down in the container, the food just stays in there with the silverware and it doesn't really get clean.

If you're confused about where to put your dishes, look at the holding spoke thingys in the rack. They're meant to hold certain dishes. That's why they aren't all the same length or shape. Some are meant to hold plates, others bowls, and then cups. It's simple, really. Don't know why everyone has such a difficult time with it.

Problem 3.

Problem 3 does not have a picture. It doesn't need one. This is probably the most annoying dishwasher issue I have to deal with in my house. People have no problem putting their dishes in the dishwasher in my house. But for whatever reason, they never start it. There have been times when I can't find dishes for a day or so, and I check the dishwasher. The dishwasher is full. There is soap in the soap dispenser holder. There isn't even any room for more dishes to go. It's just sitting there full of dirty dishes, ready to clean. I can understand if you have a lot of room left, that you would want to wait for it to be full, but why oh why do you fill it, get it ready to be washed, and let it sit? And this is a regular thing in my house. Drives me f*cking insane!

2. Don't Vacuum Up Things That Aren't Meant To Be Vacuumed
As of today, we have 9 vacuums in this house. No, that is not a typo. 9 vacuums. One more than 8 and one less than 10. Why do we have so many? Because no one in my house seems to know how to properly run a vacuum cleaner. It's not that hard. They're designed to pick the dust and dirt out of carpets and floors. They're not designed to pick up pens, shoes, blankets, coins, socks, bottoms of curtains, etc. And if you happen to run over one of these things on accident, do not continue using the vacuum. That smell of burning plastic? Not a good thing. I was so tired of having to have my father dissect and fix the vacuum every time I needed to pick up crackers off the floor, that I went out and bought my own that no one is allowed to use other than me. Now the only thing that I have to deal with is the smell of burning plastic whenever someone uses another vacuum. Still pretty annoying though.

3. Don't Put Food in the Sink
I would post a picture of this, but I won't. This is another problem that we have in the house. We do not have a garbage disposal in the sink. Any food that is put into the sink will stay there until someone scoops it out with their hands. The way dishes get done around here, that's about every other day or so. The way people eat around here, that adds up to a lot of crumbs and nasty stuff in the sink. And it's not like you can just scoop it out, either. People are always running water in the sink, resulting in a giant mushy blob of old nasty food. You know what happens in the summer when it's hot and you leave that nasty stuff in there? Let's just say it's not pretty:

(I was going to post a picture here of maggots but the Google search was so nauseating I gave up the search *gag*)

4. Don't Act Like I'm Stupid

(not me)

Contrary to popular belief, I am actually pretty smart. I do tend to go off on wild rants sometimes, which I know you're probably just rolling your eyes at thinking, "There goes Robin again, out of her mind and being dumb..."   But like I said, I'm a pretty intelligent person. I'd also like to think I'm fairly realistic in the way I think and also pretty logical. Do I act it all the time? Most definitely not. But when you sit there and talk to me like I have no idea what you're talking about or that I can't understand simple things like how to do laundry, well, it makes me want to punch you in the face. And the last thing I want to do after you lecture me like I'm 5 is actually do whatever you've been trying to tell me to do. I'm stubborn like that.

5. Do Not Lie to Me

It's not that easy to lie to me...

Although this is towards the end of my "rules", this is one of the most important. This actually ties in directly to the above rule. It's not that easy to lie to me. I don't know why people feel the need to try. Unfortunately it happens a lot. People lie straight to my face. I guess they really do think I'm stupid enough to believe their bullshit. I should call people out more, but instead I just let it go, because if I were to call out everyone every time they lied to me everyone would think I'm just a bitch. 

As with every post, there's always more, but I'm getting too tired to type anymore.

A Walk Down Memory Lane

Lately, for whatever reason it may be, I've been obsessing about toys from my childhood. Some I've looked for for over TEN years, trying to remember what they were called. Within the past 24 hours I've managed to find mostly everything I remember from my childhood. And I'm going to share those things with you, in no particular order.


1.

Love2Love Bears by Vivid (re-launched in 2007 in the U.K.)
Originally launched in 1998 as Lovable Bears

Loveable Bears. I got one when they first came out. The only difference I see between these and the one I had as a kid is that the bottle was white, and the colors were lighter. Loveable Bears were little electronic bears that could fit in the palm of your hand. The bottles were scented depending on the color of the bear you had. I had a blueberry and a lemon one (which was later turned to banana when they were re-released in 2007). Your bear would coo and make all kinds of cute baby noises, and when it cried you would give it it's bottle, and it would be happy again. It's nose had a light in it, which glowed red when it was on. I cannot tell you how hard it was to find these bears, even just a picture of them. "scented keychain bear with bottle" is apparently not very descriptive. 10 years of wondering what these little bears were, and I finally found them. If only I could actually FIND one, and not just a picture!

2.

Pony Surprise, Puppy Surprise, and Kitty Surprise by Hasbro 1990

Aww... Puppy Surprise! I had all three. Pony Surprise, Puppy Surprise, and Kitty Surprise. The only difference between these and the ones I had is that I had a purple cat. Each toy came with a random number of babies, from 1 to 6. Besides these three, there was also a Bear Surprise and a Bunny Surprise. Each animal came in different colors and they had more than one pose. The mommies were all plush with velcro on their bellies, where the babies were. The babies had a hard plastic head and their bodies were filled with beads. I had my Pony Surprise in kindergarten. I got 6 babies with her, which is the most you can get! My favorite was the baby sleepy pony, whose eyes would open when you put ice on them. The other two I had I probably got at Christmas time, over the next few years. My collection was complete by 2nd grade.

3.

Magic Hair Barbie by Mattel 1991

I still have the outfit to the gold barbie. These guys were awesome! The tails were kind of thick, I guess to keep their shape, and crinkly. When you put water on their hair (can't remember cold or hot) it would change colors, like purple and pink. And the Skipper mermaid came with two babies whose fins actually changed colors in water! Why Skipper had the babies, I do not know. Maybe she was babysitting. All I know is these Barbies made bath time super fun, and I wish I could find those color changing fins for the babies! Too cool!

4.

Sky Dancers by Galoob 1994

 Ah... Sky Dancers. These things were dangerous. You would put them into their launchers, pull the string as fast as you could, and they would launch into the sky and slowly come back down. I used to hold them in the launcher and just spin them and use them as fan, or I'd stick my tongue out and hit it with the wings. I never said I was a normal kid. I can't tell you how many lightbulbs and lamps and other things I destroyed from playing with these indoors. Sweet, sweet memories. I always promised I'd be careful next time, and I never was. Maybe that's why they slowly started disappearing over the years...


5.

Zoo Borns by Ed Kaplan Associates 1994

I love elephants. And baby animals. So that automatically made this one of the coolest toys ever. Actually, it still is. It is currently sitting next to me, since I just took a picture of it because I couldn't find any on the interwebs, and because I still actually OWN this! He used to make some kind of noise when you pushed his arms towards his chest, but the batteries have probably been dead for ten years now. I think it was a kind of elephant giggle noise? Don't ask me to explain what that sounds like. I don't even know!

6.

Bambi Masterpiece Collections by Disney 1996 (came in a Happy Meal)

Yes, one of the most significant toys in my childhood came from a kid's meal. But it's Bambi! And this was back in the day when kid's meal toys were actually worth collecting, and could actually be played with. I still have this around somewhere too... I was doing good keeping it away from Krystal, but I'm pretty sure she has it hidden somewhere, and I can almost guarantee his legs are all chewed up now. I remember in 2nd or 3rd grade when a 5th grader stole my Bambi on the bus, and my mom had to come up to school and get it back. Yay Mom!

7.

Littlest Pet Shop by Kenner 1992-1996

"But those aren't Littlest Pet Shops..." 

You shut your whore mouth and you shut it now. These were the original Littlest Pet Shop toys. These were made by Kenner, before Hasbro bought them and somehow turned these cute, adorable, cuddly animals into big headed mutant lazy eye freak pets. I'm not sure what Hasbro was thinking when they bought these toys in 2005. How did they go from these to the Littlest Pet Shop toys you see today with the giant freak heads? I don't get it. All I know is I can remember spending hours upon hours in my room with all my Littlest Pet Shop toys. I had more than I could count. And I could count pretty damn high.

8.

Virtual Pets by various companies 1996-1997

I have an obsession. And that obsession is virtual pets. It all started back in '96, walking through Meijer, when I passed the toy section. Hanging there was this "Tamagotchi". It was a little orange egg shaped thing with buttons. It was a virtual pet. I begged and begged and for $11, I got it. I was the proud owner of whatever a Tamagotchi was. I got it home (or at least, to the car) and started playing. Ok, there's an egg. Just sitting there. Waiting, waiting, waiting, and it hatches! Into a blob! But not just any blob, MY blob. I fed it, played with it, cleaned its poop, and put it down for naps. I'm hooked. I started collecting them like crazy. I had Tamagotchi's, Giga Pets, Nano Pets, and more. If it was shaped like an egg and had a pixel-y picture of some kind of creature on the outside, it was mine. I miss the days when I had nothing better to do than clean virtual dookie.

I'll add more later (like, tomorrow) but right now it's time for bed and I want to post this!

Do You Believe in the Paranormal? (repost from old blog)

Aliens. Ghosts. Bigfoot. Nessie.

All things that can't be explained, and can barely be proven.

Ever since I was little, I've believed in the paranormal. I've believed in the paranormal since before I knew what ghosts were. I remember sitting in my room as a child and having this "light" keep me company. It's kind of hard to remember, it was at least 16 years ago. Ever since then I've always had experiences with things I can't quite explain.

2nd Grade - Ohio
I'm not entirely sure I was in second grade. I think it may have even been first. I just remember we were either visiting or living here for awhile. We were at my grandfather's house, and it was the middle of the night. I was little, and had to go to the bathroom. I walked across the hallway and proceeded to do my business while leaving the door open. I could do that. I was little and it was the middle of the night. Anyhow, as I was sitting there I noticed a very tall, very skinny, white human shaped figure in the doorway. It just stood there and stared at me, before turning to its left and proceeding to walk into the wall. Freaky.

5th Grade - Ohio
I began having dreams that would happen exactly as I had seen them, only a few days later. I remember one particular moment, where I had seen my entire school dance about 3 days before it happened. I heard every song, saw everyone's costumes (it was a Halloween dance) and heard every conversation, before it even happened. I remember thinking it was odd, but not remembering why exactly everything felt so familiar, until they threw candy all over the place. I picked some up, and some other kid pushed me down and took it. My only friend, Danny, helped me up and offered me some of his candy. He had 5 pieces, and offered me two. I already knew what I was going to take of course. I took the vanilla tootsie roll and a dum dum. And that's when I remembered that I already knew all of this was going to happen.

6th Grade - Hawaii
Most of my paranormal experiences really started happening here. I began reading a lot into the paranormal and the occult. I started researching about my past experiences, and realized that I'm not exactly crazy. These things do happen. This was also about the time my porcelain doll started freaking me out. It would literally move in the dark. You could barely see it, just the shadowy outline of it's features, but you could see its face change and distort into all these horribly creepy and almost demonic looking expressions. It's creepy little fingers would move into a creepy little fist. It's hard to explain unless you actually see it, and also hard to believe it actually happened unless you see it.

8th Grade - Hawaii
This is the real turning point in the paranormal for me. I'm only going to describe a few experiences I had, because I'm already getting bored of writing and want to write as much as I can before I fall asleep. The most memorable one was while I was sitting at the end of the street looking at the woods. As I was sitting there, these two creatures came out of the woods. I don't think that creatures is even a good enough word for what I saw. They weren't creatures, and they're almost impossible to explain. They had a shape, but they didn't have a shape. They were about a foot tall probably. They had a face, and you could see it, but you really couldn't. They seem to get more blurry the more I try to remember what they look like, but I know they were real. I even asked my friend who saw them also, and he was able to tell me the same thing I remembered. The other interesting experience I had was when I saw my friend sitting under a tree. I was going to go say hi, but he looked deep in thought and I figured I'd leave him alone. I went inside for a few minutes and came back outside. He was gone. I decided to sit on the swing in the park and just enjoy being outside for awhile. About 20 minutes later, my friend comes home. I ask him what he was doing under the tree, he said he hasn't been home all day. He's also told me I'm not the only one of his friends to see him when he wasn't really there.

9th Grade - Louisiana
Not a whole lot of paranormal things have happened in awhile, until I get into meditation and astral projection. I had been trying to learn how to astral project for a few years at this point, and had given up completely. Then one night I'm lying in bed and the entire room starts to shake. I can't move. The room is shaking so violently I feel like it's about to collapse on top of me. The vibrations get worse and I hear radio static blaring in my head. It starts going through all the stations at a million miles an hour. I close my eyes, at this point I'm totally terrified. Finally I open my eyes and realize even though I'm laying straight I'm less than an inch away from my top bunk (I had a bunk bed, and slept on the bottom). I of course, freak the fuck out, and in less then a second I'm back on the bed and everything is normal again. No clue what happened there.

10th Grade - Louisiana
I'm not sure if it was really 10th or 11th grade. Whatever year Katrina hit, that's when this next thing happened. Shortly after Katrina, Hurricane Rita hit. We were in a trailer, and went on post to stay in the barracks because the storm was so bad. We got two rooms, one for my mother, sister, and dog, and one for me. We had no electricity, and it was so cold and humid. I went to bed one night and something woke me up in the middle of the night. I got out of bed, walked around, stretched, and went back to bed. Only problem was, I couldn't go back to bed, because I was already there. I remember looking at myself, all wrapped up in the blankets up to my neck. I again freaked the fuck out. I tried to wake myself up, but I couldn't. Had I died? Why couldn't I wake up? Why couldn't I get back in? I remember feeling the humidity in the room. I remember how my socks got wet as I was running around screaming at myself to wake up. I don't know how I got back, but I do know that is probably the most terrifying moment in my life to date. Even scarier than the Satanic porcelain doll.

Recently - Ohio
I've only had the occasional unexplainable experience in this house. The first time was when I was laying in bed trying to get to sleep and someone whispered "Hello" into my ear. I could literally feel their breath on my ear. Not only was it a voice I didn't recognize, but there was no one in the room with me.
Part 2 Ohio. In the past month I've done two EVP's while using a Ouija board. I know, you'd think I would know better than to use a Ouija board, but I didn't. The first one you can hear very clearly a man saying "Hello" as I apologize for saying his name wrong. The second one is much freakier. It starts with my friend taunting the ghost like an idiot. I ask him to apologize, I believe his words were "I ain't apologizing to no retarded ass nigga ghost". Shortly after that you hear a man whisper "Hey", and then a hissing, almost barking noise. Not barking like a dog, but like a person kind of making a growling barking noise. It's incredibly creepy, and I'm still angry at him for pissing off that ghost. Since then, Krystal's toys have been going off by themselves and moving around the room, and yesterday something hit the shower curtain from the outside while I was taking a shower. I really don't have the money for the materials to bless my house, but if things start getting out of control, I may have to buy some stuff.

So that's my story. What are your opinions? Am I crazy? Have you ever had any experiences you can't quite explain?

Goodnight For Now!

Dear 8lb 6oz newborn baby Jesus,

Please let me have delicious wonderful dreams about this man tonight:

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm....

Thanks in advance! 

Amen.

Mermaids

Every once in awhile my mind will get this crazy thought that it becomes completely obsessed with. Lately, it's mermaids.

Yeah, like that

I'm not sure why. I also don't know why I'm writing this in a cracked.com article format. But that doesn't matter right now. All that matters is mermaids are not real.

I understand and hope that the majority of the population already understands this fact, but there are people that not only believe in mermaids, but actually believe that muttering a few words in your bathtub with the door locked will turn you into a real live mermaid. Google "mermaid spells" if you don't believe me. If you're too lazy, here's an example:

“In this night and with this power,
I call on to you in my darkest hour,
The magical kingdom let me through,
Ohh please make my wish come true.
Hear me now hear my need,
Spirits from the other sea,
Make this spell magic.
Ohh god ohh dear god,
Make me choose wrong- don’t make me odd,
Make me able to breath underwater and sing every song”.

 Real stuff there folks. Be careful though, it only works if you're "meant to be a mermaid". Luckily this trend seems to have died down a lot. A few months ago this was everywhere. People were claiming they were turning into mermaids and even posting pictures of their transformations and everything. Now it seems to be a trend between 10-13 year old girls. Old enough to know better, but not like 16-18 like some of the people that were posting this crap a few weeks ago.

Anyway, that little rant is over. Now it's time for a new mermaid rant. Woohoo! 

Grab your party hats!

Mermaids DO NOT EXIST. Usually this would be common sense, but when trusted sites such as foxnews.com are running articles that Israel is offering $1,000,000 for the capture of a mermaid, that's where I have a problem.

Let me start be rephrasing the beginning of that last paragraph. Mermaids CAN NOT exist. At least, not according to the theory of evolution.

It is stated that every creature evolves to fit is environment. If a mermaid were to evolve to fit its environment, it would be so drastically different from your idea of a mermaid you probably wouldn't even mistake the two.

A human (even half-human) was not designed to live in the water. A "real" mermaid would not have hair. Can you imagine being under the water with your hair flowing all over the place? Uh oh! What if you see a shark? You turn your head, your flowy hair gets in your face, and you get eaten by sharks. Or even if you just decide to swim away just in case, your hair is going to get in your face, you'll probably get lost, and then you'll get eaten anyway. How are you going to keep an entire race alive when you're constantly getting eaten by sharks?

If mermaids knew what a ponytail was, this wouldn't have happened.

And besides the hair, there are so many other things that would basically kill a mermaid instantly. Like the shape of their heads. If a mermaid has a human face, they would have to be looking up to see where they're swimming. That would cause a lot of drag. In order for them to be able to swim away from predators fast enough, they'd have to look down. If that was the case, they wouldn't be able to see. They would probably run into a rock, and get eaten by sharks. (Anyone else notice a theme here?)

And lastly, for now at least, is the arms. Mermaids would not have arms. They would serve no purpose other than slowing you down when you're trying to blindly escape the sharks. Sure you'd be able to grab things, but what does that really matter in a world of sharks and whales and giant squids? Nothing. Nothing at all. 

So basically, according to the theory of evolution, even if there ever WAS such a thing as a mermaid, it probably died instantly. They are not meant to look like what people think they're supposed to look like. Take away the hair, the face, change the head, take away the arms, and we might have a mermaid.

Look! There's one now!

And that's all I have to say about that. Now I can move on with my life and continue not believing in mermaids. Whew!

Oh How Times Have Changed...

It wasn't long ago that life was completely different than it is now.

I lived in Louisiana, and my days consisted of going to work, coming home, smoking pot, and passing out on the couch because I really had nothing better going for me and I didn't really care. Other activities I enjoyed included stealing and playing video games (Ok, so the video game part still stands). I didn't have any cable, and the only DVDs I had were a few seasons of House which I watched over, and over, and over again. I can now officially be a doctor, I watched them so many times.

Now, 3 years later, it's hard to believe I ever lived that life. Instead of getting excited about going out and smoking, I'm excited about going to the craft store to buy yarn and make fuzzy little creatures for myself. I have a 2 year old, and a little boy on the way. I'm married. It's crazy! If you would have told me back then that this is the life I would be living in a few years, I would have laughed in your face, and possibly told you to go off yourself, depending on what mood I was in.

Luckily, I don't miss my old life at all. Well, maybe a bit. I liked being able to watch House for hours and hours with no interruptions. I also miss living in my own space and having the option of if I wanted to get dressed after my shower. Can't exactly run around in a towel all day at your parents house in a towel. *sigh*

Besides my habits and living arrangements, even more has changed. Over the years and through the distance I've been able to see where exactly I stand in my friends lives. Some friends have been there like I never even left. Some have gotten stronger. Some I only talk to every 3 or 4 months. And some I don't talk to much, but know that they're true friends and would be there for me no matter what.

Hmm... well I guess change is just part of life.

Time to get breakfast for the kiddo and finish my crocheting! :D

Ponder Ponder Ponder

Ever have those days where you really don't feel good enough?

If so, welcome to every day of my life.

I wish I could know what it feels like to be "the best". At anything, really. The only time I get that feeling is when I win a round of Call of Duty, and see my name at the top of the list. It's right there in your face. THE BEST. NUMBER 1. And even though it's not real, it's still a great feeling.

If only life could be like that, instead of trying your best and realizing there is always someone who is better than you. I understand that's what life is about, but I don't understand why it has to be right in your face. Why you can't just get the appreciation you deserve.

But then again, maybe you don't deserve that appreciation. Maybe you just imagined the whole thing.

Sometimes I feel like I don't exist. Or that I'm just the back-up plan.

My Morbid Mind

Ever catch yourself thinking horrible things? I do that, a lot. But instead of my mind shutting them off and moving to the next thing like I would imagine a normal persons mind does, the thought just continues until I'm satisfied that the thought is complete and can't go along any further.

These thoughts range from things like almost getting into accidents, to what would happen if I dropped a steak knife on my foot while doing dishes.

Example: I was driving one day, and a school bus full of kids pulls out in front of me. The bus was slow, and I was doing about 45. I slammed on my breaks and swerved around the end of the bus. But my mind didn't really care that I avoided the accident. It wanted to show me what would happen if the bus was just a little slower, or if my breaks didn't work quite so well. Since I was in my van, I would have hit the side of the bus like a wall, probably killing myself on impact. If I didn't, I'm sure that the bus would have been torn enough that a piece of metal would have made it through my windshield and taken care of me that way. Of course the kids on the bus wouldn't have had a much better ending, but I won't get into that. And that's just a basic outline of what my brain likes to do to me.

Another thing I catch myself thinking about is my funeral. I know my parents would come, my sister and Tom. Of course Matt would be there, his parents, probably Jenna. My mom's two friends would come, and probably their two kids. Anndddd... my uncle Jim and his wife Jill.

But that's about it. I know my friend would try to be there, she would want to be there. But I don't know if she would make it.

The rest of my family? Probably not. I've heard they all think I'm a lazy bum, not ever going to do anything with my life, and have completely disowned both me and Krystal over things we had nothing to do with. I've heard from more than one person that people IN my family don't like me. And I've never even done anything to any of them. It just sucks.

If anything were to happen to me though, I really don't think I'd want them there. They have their opinions of me, why should they change just because I'm gone? That's my opinion anyway. If you found out someone you hate was going to die, would you forget about why you hate them? I wouldn't, and if that's harsh than so be it. I feel the same should apply after death.


Well, I think I may be done blogging for today.

Dreams... Pt. 2

Somehow Matt ends up with us again, fine, and we're all at my grandpa's house. By all of us, I mean Matt, Krystal, Mom, Dad, Kristen, and Tom. And me.

We're still trying to escape from whatever it is that's following us, this dark hatred. We decide that we need to go far, far away, and my dad shows up with two giant motor homes for us to take. One for him and my mom, and the other for me, Matt, and Krystal. They're burnt orange colored, and super shiny.

We go back to the house, which is somehow safe now, and start getting our stuff out of the house. I'm guessing moving out is the same as moving in in dreams, because we only worried about the stuff in the attic.

After getting it all packed we were about ready to go. We drove back to my grandpa's house where my dad is standing on the back porch. Something isn't right. He looks angry and he's mumbling to himself. He then starts screaming and attacking his motor home. After a minute or so, he breaks down and starts crying. Whatever the thing was, it now has my father. And my father can't fight it like I can. We realize we have to get my dad as far away as possible.

We're still packing, and my dad is fine again. When me and Matt try to get into our motor home we realize that it's full of people and there's barely enough room for us. We can't go.

And then... Krystal smacks me in the face and wakes me up. Then she runs out the door and down the hall before I've even really opened my eyes. So who knows what would've happened.

The worst part of everything is the feeling of dread and worthlessness didn't go away when I woke up. And I do feel haunted. Not by anything in particular, just by emotions and feelings I can't get rid of and have no reason to really be thinking. *sigh*

Dreams... Pt. 1

Last night I had horrible dreams. They probably seem stupid and childish, but I still feel like I need to write them down. Never said you had to read this, did I?

It started that me and Matt were looking for a place to live. We had looked and looked, and I found this house I just fell in love with. It was off by itself, behind trees, with a huge yard. It looked like it had been abandoned for quite awhile, but nothing a bit of love and elbow grease wouldn't fix right up. And luckily, it was for rent! Even better, it was in our price range!

So we were driving, and I had him pull over to check it out. The guy who was renting it was already there for whatever reason. He was really tall and really skinny, kind of had that hillbilly look going on. He was dirty and scruffy, his beard as gray as his hair. He took us to the front porch, and opened the door for us. He told us it was a mess, and to be careful where we stepped. He didn't follow us inside.

Me, Matt, and Krystal walked into the house, and besides the fact it was filthy, it was amazing and huge. We walked through the first room, which I just call the "welcome room", because it's just big enough to decorate and take your shoes off in but not a room you'd want to occupy for long periods of time. There was dust and mouse droppings all over the floor, and in the middle of the floor there was a little crochet mouse. White, with black ears. At the end of this room there were three stairs leading down (to living room) and three leading up (to the dining room/kitchen). We walked into the dining room, and I looked behind at the mouse on the floor. It started walking across the floor, and I immediately started feeling things weren't right here. But I wasn't going to let a haunted cat toy ruin my dream house.

We continued looking around the house, the whole thing dirty and musty, but still oddly beautiful. However much I liked the house however, I couldn't shake the feeling things just weren't right. But for the price and the space we would have, I ignored my gut and we got the place.

Next thing I know, we've got the place cleaned up and ready to live in. Apparently in dreams, moving in means all your stuff magically appears in the house exactly where you want it and all you have to worry about is how to get the boxes of crap you don't know where to put in the attic. For some reason, this was my job.

As I was up in the attic, I had an intense feeling of dread and overall horribleness. (Yes, horribleness). That feeling I had gotten in the house was coming from here. I tried again to ignore but that's when I started hearing his voice. His voice was cold and full of hate, and completely paralyzed me with fear. He told me things like he was going to make me kill myself, and that nobody liked me, I was a horrible person, etc. He just sat there and told me these things over and over again.

It felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. Finally, when he left, it was as if I had only dreamed that it happened, and I kind of shrugged it off and went back to getting the boxes arranged.

Over the next few days or weeks whatever things got worse. His voice was following me constantly, and it was no longer just affecting me, it was affecting my family as well. Things would break for no reason, like plates in the cupboards being thrown across the room, or pictures falling off the walls constantly. Lights were constantly going on and off, as well as TV's and any other electronics. But I was still the only one who could hear his hateful voice.

Eventually, his words became my life. I did want to kill myself. I did hate myself, and my family. I didn't deserve any of it, and they would all be better off without me. I sat in the "welcome room" for probably close to a day. Matt tried to talk to me, I couldn't even hear him. I didn't even care. Somehow, he knew what was happening. I think he started hearing his voice too. He knew I had to get out of that house, but I refused to move. When he tried to move me I would just come back. I want to say Krystal was with my mom at this point, because I don't remember her being there and I remember her being with my mom later.

After a while, I move from the "welcome room". I'm out in the garage now, and I look up into the attic. I can see his eyes peering down at me, and somehow it wakes me up for a minute. I realize I'm going to die, and we need to leave. I start running around looking for keys, trying to get clothes, everything else we need to make it a few days until we find out where we're going/what we're doing.

My parents obviously knew I needed help, because they show up with a van and help me get ready. As they're getting everything in the car ready, I realize the attic is empty. This isn't a reassuring feeling, because even though there is nothing in the attic, I still feel him somewhere. Then I realize Matt is gone. And the house is locked.

I can't get in, but I hear him and Matt talking. I can't remember what they were saying, but I know in the end that Matt gets possessed by him, and I had to leave him there, because there was nothing I could do.

And that's only part 1.

The Mom You Wish You Were: SuperMom

Every one knows one. Or maybe your mother was one. I know that by the stories I hear my own mother was a fucking SUPERMOM.

According to my father, my mother was just amazing. I swear, she must have been some kind of robot. She was able to make us three meals a day. She kept the house spotless with not one, but TWO children. There was never a day the dishes went undone, there were never any crumbs on the floor, or in our highchairs. Not once did she lose a sippycup of juice only to find it months later under the couch or in the back of the closet. Never did she fall behind on the laundry. Our clothes were always clean, folded, and put away. We took our naps every day at the same time with no fuss, and went to bed perfectly. This left her enough time to balance the check book while catching up on her soaps and probably doing other super things that super moms manage to do in their super days.

I am not a super mom. I am not even close. And because I can't watch a toddler, cook dinner, clean the floors/dishes/tables/laundry, and still be "mom", I apparently am not a good mother at all. I can barely do all that and still be "me". But apparently my mother was able to do everything under the moon without even the help of a babysitter or even a television. I just don't understand it. I can't even clean and keep Krystal out of trouble with television AND a baby sitter. I can't even clean if she's anywhere near me. While I'm doing one thing she's on the other side of the room destroying something else. Not even her playroom is allowed to be out of order.

I think the best part is that nothing was or is ever overwhelming to these "super moms". Their kids are obviously as perfect as they are, and are potty trained before they even hit one. Again, I am not that kind of mother and never will be. I just can't. I don't know how, to start with. And I don't feel like losing everything I am and every bit of sanity to obsessively watch my children and make sure they never do anything wrong.

If that makes me a bad mom, well... I guess I suck.

On a Positive Note...

I feel pretty confident in saying I'm not a "fake" person. I'm not going to act like your friend when I'm not. I'm not going to be someone who I don't feel is really "me" just to make you more comfortable. If that makes me come off as an overdramatic attention whore than so be it.

I've noticed I only tend to share the negative aspects of my life on the internet. Anyone who knows me IRL or on any level deeper than my Facebook statuses knows that I'm not that miserable of a person.

I enjoy watching Dexter and baking cupcakes. I play Rockband. I spend a decent portion of my day on Neopets, and if I knew where my DS was, I would be playing Pokemon. I'm not sick all the time, but to write "I feel great today" on a status just seems boring. Maybe writing "I think my head is going to explode" every other day seems a bit over the top, but I guess I just share things online that aren't normal in my everyday life. My everyday life is pretty boring.

I wake up, eat some leftovers and make Krystal breakfast. I check Facebook, see what's going on in Neopia, and basically do nothing. I bring out some toys for her to play with, and try my best not to let her make to much of a mess. If you saw my living room, you would realize that I fail at this every day. We play for a bit, and when I get tired we watch some Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. My parents usually come home about this time, and we talk for a few minutes before they go to their part of the house. Then me and Krystal just lounge, play, watch TV, and snack the rest of the day. It's pretty routine and pretty damn boring.

I guess in an attempt to make myself more "normal" on the internet, I should write about the normal, boring, regular things that happen in my life.

Did you know I was pregnant? If not, I don't blame you, I rarely ever talk about it. Nothing is really going on. Just boring old normalness until up to a few days ago. And even the non-normalness I feel bad writing about because I feel like I'm complaining. And I know how annoying it can be when someone complains about every little thing in their pregnancy. But this is a time to be cautious. If you feel unsure about something, you should probably ask someone about it. At least your mind will be put to ease. I just have trouble with that because I feel like I'm over-reacting. As usual.

Well I'm pretty sure this post was all over the place so I'm just going to wrap it up before I ramble your faces off.

Change

I've never once stated I was perfect. In fact, I was usually the first to state my flaws. The first to say that my life isn't perfect. The first to say that I wasn't perfect.

I thought I was sharing my personal thoughts and opinions with a group of people that would I guess "be there" for me. I understand that that's not what they were "there" for, but after knowing people for so long and sharing so much I began to feel safe and started to share my personal feelings and struggles with these people.

I now see I was a complete and total fucking idiot for doing so.

These people weren't my friends. Friends are there when you're going through a tough time. I know what's best for me. I just needed help staying strong. I'm not just going to run out because things are getting tough. I stayed. I stayed when everyone told me to leave. And you know what? Things are actually looking like they might be ok for once.

I've always been there for everyone and everything they're going through. I very, VERY rarely judge a person or talk rudely about them. And if I do, I usually have no problem saying it straight to your face. If I think you're fake, I'll probably call you out on it or ignore you completely. I'm not going to act like your friend and give you a false sense of security when you need someone most.

I just can't believe I was so clueless to how these people truly felt about me when I thought they were my "friends". I know it wasn't everybody, but the ones that did say something, it hurts.

If anything came from this, I've learned that you can't really trust people. Never get to comfortable with people. You don't know what they're saying behind your back, no matter how sweet they seem to your face.

I also understand that this post probably comes off as "pathetic" and "attention-seeking", but you know what? I don't care. This is what is on my mind right now. Go ahead and send your friends the link, as you all laugh and make fun of me because I'm apparently a sorry excuse for a human being.

Have a wonderfully perfect day.