Creepy Cool Coincidence?

Just something interesting to make y’all think…

The other night, I ordered chinese food and got the requisite fortune cookies. I opened my cookie and found that there was more than one fortune! I squealed with glee and said “Look! I got one for Peanut too!!” and then pulled them apart to find that there wasn’t just TWO fortunes, but THREE!!! eep!

Just something that made me pause and laugh. And I could sure use the laugh… School and making humans is HARD!!

I’m so not good at this poignant crap…

The last few days have been crazy… hell, who am I kidding, the last six MONTHS have been one rush after another. I haven’t had time to process- and that’s where other people’s blogs come in… I read a very broad range, and I have found quite a few who know exactly what I’m thinking- who know how to say things that I just can’t seem to come up with words for myself.

There are things that I’m just not eloquent enough to say. Like the fact that I hate my father. It’s not actually true. I don’t hate him… not anymore. I realize that he’s mean, and hateful, and controlling. I realize that he just doesn’t know how to show affection or approval. I also know that my stepmother is REALLY a wicked stepmother-an evil manipulative bitch.

This past summer, I made a decision to cut them out of my life. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I honestly feel it was the best decision I could have made for my daughter. For most of her life, they have been WONDERFUL grandparents. I mostly avoided them for MY sake, but I allowed a relationship to flourish with my child. Until they started doing to her what they did to me. You see, my father and stepmother aren’t content to just hate other people- they have to convert YOU too. As a teen, when I lived with them- the target was my  mother. Picture if you will, a young girl, trying to find her own identity, and being told constantly that HALF of her genetic makeup is complete crap- that her mother is the worst person in existence. Imagine being cornered, LITERALLY and having hate rammed down your throat. Hate directed at the person who raised you. Who, while married to the evil asshole, protected you from the worst of his abuse. And don’t you DARE disagree!! If you try to defend yourself OR your mother- well then.

If you’ve never been verbally or psychologically abused, it’s extremely hard to understand how awful it really is. I once spoke with a friend who lived with a man who psychologically abused her for years- but he never laid a hand on her. She said to me, “I WISH I’d been hit- it would have been easier.” And I can relate.

My husband is not my daughter’s father, but he is most assuredly her daddy. He is there for her 200%. He checks in on her before bed at night after I’ve given hugs and cuddles. He play fights with her in the grocery store so she doesn’t get bored. He plays video games with her, and goes outside to build snow forts, and other forts. Everything any child could ever want in a dad- he is/does/gives her.

My father and step-mother hate him. They hate him with a passion bordering on psychotic. And so the indoctrination began. The last time my daughter spent with my father and stepmother was last summer. They took her camping for a week. My daughter came home in tears. She was hurt, and couldn’t understand why gam and gamps (her words for them) hated her daddy. She didn’t understand why they thought he was bad- she doesn’t understand that her fucking gam and gamps never TRY to call. Hardly even TRY to contact her. But they TOLD her that her daddy didn’t let her see them. That he wouldn’t LET them call. And they wouldn’t LIE to her would they?? They spent the entire week attempting to make her hate him. An entire week that an 8 year old spent, not having fun- but being told that her daddy is a mean, horrible person. Stop and think for a second what this might do to a child- then stop and think how damaging this might just be to a child who’s biological father has virtually no contact with her. Now, I’ve been in this situation. She’s not actually going to come home and think, “wow, my daddy is horrible!” she’s going to think “what is wrong with me?? My first daddy left me, and my new daddy is a bad man- but I still love them both- so does this mean I’m bad???”

It might seem far-fetched- unless you’ve been there. Every hurtful, horrible thing they ever said about my mother, I reflected back on myself. If my mother was bad, and horrible, and evil- well then didn’t that make ME bad, and horrible, and evil??

The “indoctrination” of my daughter was not the only reason I cut them out. It was simply the last straw. It wasn’t even a dramatic exit. I simply never called them again. And they’ve never even TRIED to contact me or my daughter. They have phone numbers for my PERSONAL cell phone that my husband doesn’t even touch other than to put on the charger for me because I tend to forget. They have email addresses for both my daughter and I. They know where we live, (it’s within 1/2 an hour of them) and they know that I speak to my brother frequently and if necessary, they could contact me through him. They haven’t even TRIED.

It makes it easier for me really. But part of me still hurts. Part of me even feels guilt- guilt that my daughter has lost a set of grandparents, and that the child I’m carrying now will never even know them. They don’t even know I’m pregnant. The “family” part of me feels like I should try- I should try to mend bridges, that I should forgive, and let them back in. That I shouldn’t deny my unborn child or my living child of family. That even if they ARE horrible, evil, people,  I should at least TRY to maintain a relationship. And then I come to my senses. If they care- why haven’t THEY called? emailed? come to see us? It has NOTHING to do with my husband, and quite frankly, if they don’t like him- they can stop acting like fucking children and suck it up!!! My husband is MORE than happy to go out for the day if they wanted to come and visit. He’s fine with my going out to see them too, if I really wanted to. He’s just a convenient excuse for them to withhold affection and approval. It’s just one more mistake their stupid, fucked up daughter has made, one that I will regret someday- and go crying back to them…  Too bad for them that I don’t and won’t need them ever again. Too bad for them that my husband GIVES me approval, that he’s there for me, and actually DOES care. It’s amazing how living with someone who is the polar opposite of abusive, and comes from a close-knit, healthy, happy family gives you perspective. I’ll never go back. I’m finally free.

blah blah blahzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….

Husband scoped the other way yesterday- never seen him so dopey from being drugged up in my life… seriously he was all talk talk talkzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…. So yeah.

I can totally relate right now though, and I don’t have any drugs in me… The night-peeing has started in earnest however, so I’m basically turning into a pregnant zombie. 3am- get up to pee. 5am get up to pee, spend 15 minutes trying to quell insane bleeding from my nasal cavity (stupid dry winter weather- I use a damn humidifier and STILL get bloody noses wtf me???). 6am- Husband’s alarm starts shrieking at me. 615am- husband flops his ass down on end of bed as hard as humanly possible jerking me out of the almost-back to sleep state I’m in. Cats start up yowling cacophony of “FEED ME MF’ER!!” 630am husband dressed- leans over bed to kiss my cheek, tell me he loves me. Goes downstairs taking yowling asshole felines. (I hate my cats first thing in the morning- if this makes me a bad person, oh well) 7am- get up to pee AGAIN… gah!! debate just staying up or taking the 1/2 hour of sleep I’m still entitled to… go back to bed… 714am wake up in panic thinking alarm didn’t go off and I’m late late late- look at clock and groan… fall back asleep. 730am – my alarm goes off. Leap out of bed to shut off the offending screech that is horrible alarm clock. (why can’t anyone make an alarm clock that DOESN’T make you want to stab yourself in the face??). Wake up child- go pee AGAIN!! Wake up child for a second time… decide that TODAY- I am getting her her OWN alarm clock so she knows how much nicer it is to have a pleasant mommy-voice saying “good morning sunshine, time to get up” as opposed to the screeching banshee wail of alarm clock. Proceed through day in zombie-like state starting off by hollering at child to do what it is she must do in the morning because no matter HOW many mornings she has done the EXACT SAME THING- she still needs to be told what to do or she just sits her ass down on the couch and does nothing. Or hides in her room and reads… ugh.

On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday- I have classes too.. so I have to prepare lunches for everyone and also get ready for school…School is 1/2 an hour away on a good day. On the shittiest highway imaginable. Wednesdays are the LONGEST DAY EVER- on top of the three classes I attend regularly I also have an evening psych class from 7-10 pm…. which means 1/2 hour drive home, 1/2 hour drive back to school and then another 1/2 hour drive home. For a grand total of FOUR times on the shittiest highway imaginable. I tolerated the drive for the first month of school but have recently staged a revolt- told my husband that for ONE goddamn night a week HE could handle supper and I would NOT be making that commute- that I have THREE damn papers to write and therefore need extra time in the library AT school to complete them. What the hell was I thinking???

So, I am a zombie… and I know it’s only going to get worse… I just keep telling myself- it’s only until the end of April. I can make it till April right??? Oh god I hope I can make it till April…

BWAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

/sigh… maybe there really IS justice in the world…

My sis-in-law… the one I absolutely LOOOOVE (<- total sarcasm) found out today that she’s having her third girl. baaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahaahah. She’s been desperately trying to “beat” me to having the first “[insert my last name here]” grandson. Technically- she’s lost twice, seeing as how the FIRST was my b.i.l’s adopted son (who doesn’t exist in her world)and  if you just want to count BIOLOGICAL children- I beat her ass down last April when I had MY son. Who also doesn’t exist in her world.

A third girl= poetic fucking justice.

Drooling on myse-elf oh-oh-oh…

Yes.. that would be me.. back to school this week… two bruised vertebrae and walking are NOT my friends… it’s 9:15pm and I’m bushwacked- I don’t know why my husband puts up with me.

I’m sucky, whiny, and well… I was going to say useless but after the 1/2 hour drive in shit-thick fog to get to school, several hours of classes, some minor running around to do in town, then home (another 1/2 hour- minus fog at least) AND making supper- I’m not so useless after all… However, I AM pretty sure that if I don’t get some decent (non tylenol-induced) sleep I might ACTUALLY start drooling on myself and uttering total nonsense. I’m hoping that this total nonsense post will help delay that effect somewhat…

And so, since I spelled 3/4 of that sentence wrong and had to go back and re-write it about four times… I’m going to “cave” and take my pathetic ass to bed. Oh… and since we’re on the subject of being all fucked up and battered… Go and do something for Haiti eh?

Haiti Needs Your Help!!

The story of… ow ow… FUCK ow!!!

I have been stabbed in the spine approximately 15 times. You really have NO idea how much that fucking hurts. I have a bruised vertebrae (from being poked so many times) and the muscles in my lower back around the area of bruise-y polka-dotted hell are in a constant state of spasm. I also have cramps from the most pissed off cervix and uterus in existence. My vagina feels like I’ve been gang-banged and I’m still getting shock-y feelings in my legs.

The moral of this story: getting a cerclage FUCKING SUCKS!!!

But, if it means that THIS little peanut gets to stay inside until term… it’s so very very worth it…

Because I am epic wife.. and blogger…

And I haven’t done an episode of “Why I love My husband, S.O, life partner, soulmate, etc etc etc…” in a looooooooong friggin time… I am here to do one now…Please forgive the lack of button- my brain is currently trying to work out how the HELL Contemporary Politics can possibly be more mind-numbingly boring than Intro to Canadian Literature…. yeah… if you figure it out, please let me know!!! Oh, and since you’re all DYING to know what I’ve learned in university, so far I know that historians are going to fucking LOVE me- because apparently they’re all journal whores. And a blog is just like a journal, only electric, and no one will have to dig it out of some mouldy, old nasty chest 100 years from now… this I learned in Sex and the Sacred. (yes- I’m TOTALLY taking a class with sex in the title- because, um, hello- it’s a class about SEX!! how COOL is that???!!! – now everyone wave to the billion and one trolls who just showed up looking for the S.E.X.)

So, in this week’s “Why I love My Husband, blah blah blah… etc etc etc”:

It’s his fault I’m in school. I’ve been a chicken shit for the last decade or so, and assuming that no one in their right mind would actually let me into an institution of higher learning. Well, except for the college who taught me how to stab people legally (with syringes- as a nurse- not some psycho drug user). One, because well, I’m me- I’m loud and crazy and I annoy people. And the BIG reason: I am a high school dropout.

My husband- helped me with the research, and helped me discover two magical words: “mature student”. He ALSO gave me the encouragement (read: asskicking) I needed to actually APPLY for mature student status and get into university. He’s also funding this little adventure known as “what the fuck am I thinking trying to get into med school at MY age- there is seriously something f’n wrong with me- omg omg omg *cue hyperventilation*”

Very very valid reasons to love my husband. He knows I’m smart enough when I’m scared that I’m not, and tells me so. He encourages me when I babble for two hours about a short story and the *epic* discussion I had with my lit prof. during class about it. (mostly because it seems the rest of the class is completely mute and unable to answer a question to save their lives… meh- they can eat 5% of their mark- I’m goin’ for all A’s bitches- I’ma GET the 5% for participation whether I need it or not!!)

I love my husband because when I come home sore as HELL from trucking my pregnant ass about 10,000,000,000 miles a day all over the university- he rubs my feet and helps me with supper- or even MAKES IT FOR ME!!! Obviously he’s not rubbing my feet WHILE making supper because EW… but you get the idea I’m sure.

And I most definitely love my husband because he has put up with hormones like a champ. When I call him bawling because the bitch at the big-ass-hospital-that-let-my-son-die won’t give me ANY information on what the hell exactly I’m driving 2 and a half bloody hours for on Tuesday (supposedly they’re only doing a SCAN and they’re going to book the cerclage at that point- for me to come in at a later date… fuckers), he listens, he reassures, he says- it’s ok, we can stop in and see our nieces and have a nice visit, maybe do a “costco run”- so it’s not a wasted trip. When I scream at him for twenty minutes because I asked him to please make some lunch because I feel like hell, nauseous and headachey and sore and he was busy so it took him longer than I wanted it to… he takes it- and apologizes and does his best to not make me feel bad for being a crazy hormonal psychopath. (of COURSE it would be easier for him to have just hopped up IMMEDIATELY to make me food- and I would LOOOVE him for that… but the fact that he gets yelled at and still loves me is very important!!)

So yeah… that is this weeks edition of “Why I love my husband”… Because he f’n ROCKS!!!

First day of school…

What the HELL am I doing??? I am going to be 29 in two months and I am starting University??? gah!!

I am starting a Bachelor of Science degree in preparation for MED SCHOOL??!!! By the time I’m done I will be almost FORTY!!! eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!

There must be something wrong with me…

In the epic battle between my elbow and the ceramic tile floor…

My elbow lost… BIG TIME… I think it’s broken… it feels burny and sore and omg sore… ok- so it’s not ACTUALLY broken… but it hurts like WTF!!! At least I’m not feeling crampy anymore…

Oh yes… In my constant state of epic win- I managed to trip UP the f’n stairs carrying a laundry basket (it was a really small laundry basket). I stubbed my toe, which, is still hurty but only when I try to move it, bonked my face off the laundry basket, which, didn’t really hurt at all because the laundry basket is bendy and was padded by the laundry that half-fell out when I dropped it, hit my belly on the top step- hence the crampy and feeling of impending dread and doom (I know that USUALLY it takes more than a hit like that to really cause problems, but um, hellooooo- I have actually gone through dead baby- am I not allowed to panic just a teeny wee bit??) and my elbow…
As gorgeous as it is- I SERIOUSLY hate ceramic tile… It’s hurty on the feet and the back- I have to wear shoes to cook dammit!! I am a barefoot girl. I looooooathe socks, slippers make my feet too hot, and seriously- we do not wear shoes in our houses in Canuckland!!! When you live in Canuckland- you take your shoes OFF at the DOOR!!! except in my house because I have fucking ceramic tile!!!! Killer of elbows, feet, knees and every other damn thing you can think of!! It’s a dream to clean- of course you pretty much HAVE to mop this crap EVERY SINGLE DAY… otherwise, you can SEE foootprints. Of my cats and anyone else who was brave enough to not wear shoes on it. GAH!!! Why oh why does it have to be so pretty???
I’m going to go lay down now and pout and cradle my poor busted elbow… *grumble* stupid tile…

Because I’m full of the SMRT

October was our last kick at the cat so to speak. Hubby and I had made a decision that if the October cycle didn’t work out, we were going to take a break from treatment, I was going to concentrate on trying to lose a bit of weight, and I was going back to school.

FAIL

I signed up for the January semester at the local University…. I also got pregnant… oops

January 6th I start classes.

January 12th I get a cerclage.

What the HELL was I thinking??? So much for “take it REALLY easy- no stress, no straining yourself blah blah blah”… um- I’ve spent at least 6 hours of my life on various days talking to different banks about interest rates for student line of credit!! And all of them are in the city 25 minutes away on icy, snow-drifted, really crappy highway.

Gah!!!

Part of me really wants to say “I changed my mind”- I don’t really want to do this after all. I CAN wait to go back to school- maybe. Right now, everything is up in the air and I’m stressed. I’d like to say that’s why I’ve been missing- it’s part of it, but not the whole bit. It’s a lot to take in, and I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it all. For me, 2010 is starting off with a lot of uncertainty. Will I be able to handle pregnancy and school? Will I actually make it to term this time? Will I be able to afford to go back to school in September, having to pay childcare for an infant? Should I transfer and do what courses I can online? Will I even get the stinking money from the bank on time to pay my tuition and books? It’s a lot of questions and I have NO ANSWERS!!!

So, here’s to everything working out! Thank you 2010 for beginning as a clusterfuck with too much going on!

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