Seven

That's how old my son is today. It feels so unreal to say that I have a seven year old child. Every day he's maturing a bit more, learning new things, growing up, and growing away from me. Soon those snuggles in our bed in the morning will go away. The wanting hugs will be no more. The kisses goodnight, the bedtime stories, the hanging out together will be gone. I can already see it disappearing a bit now that he has a close friend, but it hasn't vanished completely.

I guess I sound a bit clingy and whiny with my son, but he's pretty much my world. I know I'm not Mother of the Year at all times, but I think I've done a respectable job. I hope he thinks so when he's older and looks back on his younger years.

Okay, enough of this depressing shit.

I am utterly and completely proud of my son. He has overcome lots of speech difficulties and has improved beyond measure. He is a whiz in Math (and I know he doesn't get that from me), and almost achieved straight A's this quarter. The damned C in ART (WTF?) threw that off, but still! He did remarkably well for a six year old. He finally made a good friend, one that wants to come over and hang out with him and isn't a little vicious shithead. I am glad of that. We took them to Chuck E. Cheese yesterday, and they had a blast. His friend is well raised, smart, and can calm my son down when he gets a wee bit hyper.

I am also proud that my son wanted to join the Cub Scouts and learn new things. Yeah, I know the organization itself (the Boy Scouts) is completely against Atheism and Homosexuals, but I couldn't say no when his eyes lit up about all the things the Scouts do. I've tried to instill in him that everyone deserves to be treated fairly and equally, but I don't think he's old enough yet to understand that some people just hate for the sake of hating. I wish I still had that innocence. I hope he's able to hold on to it for a bit longer.

Tonight, we looked at some pictures of him as a baby. It hurt my heart to see him as a tiny little thing. He made me grow up, he forced me to be responsible, to think of others before myself. It did me a world of good, and I thank him for that. I only wish I could have held on to it all for a little longer. It seems like time is just flying by now.

My little grasshopper, I love you so much. Happy birthday. Mommy is too emotional now to write anymore.

Oh, and lest I ever lose the link, here is a piece that Daddy wrote about you and him and your times at Wrigley Field.

Birfday!

So I'm 32 now. I guess I should feel older and wiser now. All I feel is.....drunk. That might have something to do with the fact that I've been steadily drinking generic rum mixed with generic Crystal Light for the past three hours or so.

Eh, I don't feel any different. Still cynical and pissed off and grumpy about everything, more so than usual lately. I think that may be the one change for me. I'm like the honey badger now, I just don't give a shit. You don't like me, fine. Fuck you. You want to mess with me and talk shit and all that. Fine. Fuck you.

I didn't do much for my birthday. Just hung out at home. Was gonna trek down to the MSI and look at the kickass stuff from WWII, but then the temperature started dropping. And dropping. And I was like, "Fuck it." I didn't want to be outside for longer than necessary. So I slept. Then did a major sprint to the store to get some lunch. Sushi. Yum.

Got me some stuffed pizza for dinner. Did a minor celebration with my family. Good enough. All my good friends wished me a merry birthday on Facebook. It totally brightened my day because my friends kick ass. People say that you can't have true friends online. I say that's bullshit. Most of my good friends, including MY HUSBAND, came from the internets. So yeah. Theory is crap.

So that's it. I should expound on how I'm more awesome and SMRT because I'm 32, but I don't give a fuuuuuuuuuuuck. My alcohol is more important right now.

Meh-ry Christmas And Other Musings

Torturing myself with Christmas carols. Reminds me of happier times. It also makes me sadder than hell because I miss my family.

Last week was the anniversary of my grandmother's death. This would be my paternal grandmother, since both of them died in December. I did not mention it last week nor write about it because I wasn't home. I think that is a good thing. I'm thinking about it now, and all it is doing is dragging my soul down. My heart just feels heavy. I miss her. I miss my maternal grandmother.

We watched "A Christmas Story" tonight, and all I wanted to do was bawl because the Old Man reminds me so much of my grandfather and how he used to be around Christmas.

Blah. The waterworks are starting. I don't want to do this, but if I keep it bottled up, I'm going to be depressed throughout the holiday, and I really don't want to ruin it for my son or husband.

I think I'm also crying because I'm listening to religious Christmas carols, and all they're doing is reminding me of how much I lost when my faith went PFFFFFT. It's a bitch at times to think about it, especially during the holy days for my old religion. Other times I could give a fuck about it all. Ah, conflict. Why can't I be normal?

Merry fucking Christmas.

Google Earth And Depression

The weirdest shit can make you depressed. It's true. I was bored and messing with Google Earth. I started looking up places in my hometown and the area surrounding it. And I just got hit with this overwhelming feeling of homesickness and depression.

I guess maybe it is the holidays coming up that is making it worse, along with some pretty sucky anniversaries. The knowledge that, once again, I will not be with my family during Christmas just makes me teary eyed. I miss them all, more than I care to admit, I guess. Yes, I have my husband and my son, and even the doggeh (who is trying to climb my leg right now.....like most pets, he senses sadness) to celebrate the holidays with, but I need my other family members. This includes all my close friends in California, because we all act like family anyways!

There is so much I'm feeling right now, and I don't know how to put it into words. My throat is sore from holding in the crying. I usually don't cry. My Paxil has made me pretty immune to certain feelings. Yet tonight, I really feel like letting loose and bawling.

I suppose I'm not making sense. I don't care. I need to write or else I'll go batshit insane.

Fuck it. I'm going to go shower now and possibly cry. Maybe tomorrow I'll resume my (supposedly) normal life.

Why I Should Lay Off The Melatonin

Because I always dream about zombies when I take it!

My dream starts out with me hiding in an underground bunker with some people. The Zombie Apocalypse is on, and we're pretty much trying to keep it together. We can venture outside when we know the zombies aren't around, but if they sense us, they come forward and try to eat our brains.

The bunker is kind of small, and there is no place to shower or poop (you know, two very important things to consider when the Z.A. is going on.), which distresses me because I want to shower. Luckily, there is a restroom. Above ground. So a couple of us make a dash for it and try to get clean and use the toilet before the zombies come back. It didn't work, and we have to battle our way out. Unfortunately, there is a casualty, and the rest of us run to the steel trapdoor and start banging on it. We get back in, and then we decide to try and make a break for it. Where? To Barbados.

Somehow, we knew Barbados to be a safe place with no zombies about. How this knowledge came about, I don't know. Dreams have no logic. So we wait for it to be semi-clear of zombies, then we start hiking. Now this next part is not going to make any sense at all, unless you grew up where I grew up. So just disregard it if you don't know what the hell I'm talking about.

Anywho, we start hiking down the hill in Moss Landing (which, in real life, is just a tiny hill, but in my dream it's a fucking mountain) so we can get to the harbor and steal a boat to sail to Barbados. There are jungles and forest growth all around (in Moss Landing? Come on.), and some of our group decides to try and shortcut it across the jungle part rather than walk down the hill/mountain. We all eventually meet up again, but of course, there are casualties. A friend lost his girlfriend, and I lost my kid (this part squicked me out).

We finally reach the harbor, and instead of just taking any damned boat and leaving, we argue about which boat to use, like we're going on fucking leisure cruise or something. The decision is finally made, and we start heading out of the harbor. And then we start arguing over stealing a different, larger boat.

After a day's trip, we reach Barbados, which is totally impossible, because Moss Landing is in California, and Barbados is in the Caribbean. When we get there, we realize that we are screwed, because someone in our group was infected but didn't say anything. Before we could kill him, he infects a bunch of other people, which means more zombies. Somehow the solution comes about that if we're all infected, we'll all be normal. Which makes no sense whatsoever, but then again, this is a dream world. And then I woke up.

Now that I think about it, there are other bits of the dream that I didn't add (like the couple in the trailer hiding from the zombies), but I don't remember where they came in. And they're just fucking weird, weirder than what I just wrote. So yeah.

I think someone laced this Melatonin with crack.

Mmmmm.....Depression

I don't know what the hell is wrong with me (besides the obvious). I just feel like complete shit all the time. I'm constantly stressing about money, even though I know we're covered, thanks to help from my parents. Without them, the kid wouldn't be getting a Christmas, and we wouldn't have money to go grocery shopping this weekend (and probably the latter part of next month as well).

So maybe it isn't money, per se. Maybe I'm just depressed over the fact that I can't stretch our money more. Maybe I'm just depressed because, at the age of 31, I still have to rely on Mommy and Daddy for money. Maybe it's the fact that I can't get work of any kind, which makes me feel utterly useless. Babysitting is out, because everyone has childcare already, although I've put it out there that I'm available for emergencies and whatnot. I've applied all over the neighborhood, but no go. Kinda weird, considering the holidays are coming up and people are usually hiring. Not in Hyde Park, though. I can't go any farther than the neighborhood because of my own childcare issues, so working Downtown is out.

I just need.....something. I don't know what. I feel so miserable because of all this stress. I really try to hide it, but damn. Everyone has their breaking point. I'm not sure I've reached mine yet, but it is awfully close.

I could also just be feeling the depression because December is coming up, and it's just a really shitty month in the scheme of things. God knows I only go through the motions of the holiday for the kid. Not much to celebrate nowadays with everyone gone. A month where I lost both of my grandmothers. A month that would have seen my grandfather turn 75. Sheeyit. I can do without it, thanks.

I'm not sure what the point of writing this was. Maybe I just needed to ramble on and vent some of my depression on the interwebz. Hell, I'm sure most of the people that read this know exactly how I feel.

Fuck Off

Since I'm feeling pretty shitty right now, I'm just going to lay this out there. If you think you know more about my finances than I do, you're more than welcome to come and school me on it. And when you fail fucking miserably at getting blood out of a turnip, I'm going to laugh at you.

Don't ever presume that we have no money just because we blow it on stupid shit. Don't ever think you know more about us than you do. And if I ever see that fucktard asshole that made the comment about my husband never having money, I'm going to go apeshit ballistic on his ass. Guess what, asshole? We're making a graduate student stipend meant for ONE stretch out for three people. So why don't you go fuck yourself with a chainsaw? Furthermore, it's none of your fucking business. And if you feel so strongly about my husband having more money, then why don't you fight for grad students to make more money rather than act like the biggest prick in the universe about everything.

You know what? I already feel crappy about our situation because I know that a lot of our money problems were brought on by me. I don't need some ignorant dickhead that has fuck all to do with our family make comments about our finances. What? You didn't think my husband was going to tell me what was said? Yeah right. And while he may take it in stride, this feels like the biggest "FUCK YOU" directed at me and our kid, like we're bringing my husband down or something. That shit stings. It also makes me wonder what else is said about us and really really REALLY makes me wary of all of my husband's friends and coworkers.

So yeah. Sorry guys who are my husband's friends and coworkers. I like you, but I don't trust you for shit now.

I'm out.