Make Money Makeover

In my post "When Everything Is Just Not Ok" I explained that in order to start gathering the money that I would need to pay for my daughter's broken window, a window that my ex shot, I had sold my bed and the chair in my bedroom.

I slept like that for ooooh...about a week before I realized how unhealthy that was going to be for my mental state. My daughter and I were sleeping on the floor because the man who was supposed to have taken care of us, was ruining us.

That is seriously depressing.

Good-bye bedroom

Taking the bed apart for the new owners to pick up

Hello very empty room

As I laid there on my mattress, on the floor, and looked around at my room, I realized how angry I was. I hate that room, always have. My ex was rarely home when he lived here and therefore not much of the house ever had his mark on it, but when he was home, when we were "together," it was most often in the bedroom. When my ex left, one of my best friends and I wasted no time in painting the walls; walls that I had spent years staring at as I lay in bed desperately trying to mentally escape the things that were happening to my body. Painting helped, but the furniture, the feel of the room, it never changed.

Still lying there on a stack of mattresses, I decided that this would not be another situation for him to get the better of me; this would be a situation that I would use to make life better FOR me.

Seriously, Enough Is Enough

You guys, I am so tired. I slept ohhhh……maybe an hour last night, probably less. I had a hard time writing this post. I kept writing, deleting, crying, writing some more, deleting again, crying, and so on.

You see, I have good news; I don’t have to go to court on Monday. Yay! Right? Am I right? “Well then gee Eden, you should have slept wonderfully seeing as how you no longer have to stress out about court now, am I right?”

Yea, you would think so, but no.

I took the kids to the Movie In the Park event last night. I love going to the movie in the park. Like I’ve said before, a good chunk of the town turns out and it’s a big, free, family fun night. Last night they had great vendors and the kids got tons of free stuff. I took both of them into the free money booth. What is a free money booth you ask? Well, it’s a booth (aka enclosed box with a turbo fan) that blows money around and whatever you catch, you get to keep. Money booth = awesome, am I right?  (The kids actually did not see the fabulousness of the entire thing and simultaneously burst into atomic tears as soon as the machine turned on, which caused the operator to FREAK out, turn it off as fast as she could, and thrust piggy banks into each of my kids hands. I, on the other hand, was having a hard time stifling my laughs because hello, it's money. We are not standing in a box of porcupines children, we are standing in a giant box filled with money. This is what dreams are made of kids). The library was also there, giving away free hardcover children’s books and the police department came and turned both of my kids into “honorary officers.” I got to relax while the park district played organized outdoor games with them. My friends had gotten there early, saved us a space, gotten pizza, raided the concession’s stand, and took care of us like they always do. My daughter was adorned head to toe in glow stick jewelry right up until the moment she bit into one and it exploded all over her face and then she was just glowing everywhere.

A perfect night, am I right?

With the exception of the money box I spent nearly the entire night choking back tears while feeling suffocated by the lump that was swelling in my throat; enveloped in a feeling of despair like a hug that I couldn’t escape from.

I'm Not Ok With Only Having One Foot

When I was twenty one I had reached a point where I was spending more time in a cast healing from a broken bone, then out of one. Years of dance and running had caused so many overlapping injuries that I kept breaking the same bones and tearing the same tendons over and over again.

When I would finally get the cast off, I would be filled with hope that *this* time I really was healed and I could move past the pain and the struggles and finally get to do the things I had been waiting to do.

It never worked out that way though, inevitably several weeks out of a cast and I would be right back in one again, stuck in a cycle that I couldn't get out of. I was forever putting my dreams on hold and the injuries were stealing away my ability to do the things that I loved.

I look back on those days now and I know that just like so many other things in my life, I was trying to go about my days as if everything was ok. "If I can just get through this, it will be ok. If I can just make it through another healing, the rest of it will be smooth sailing." In reality though, everything was not ok. I was struggling; struggling to keep up with the people around me and struggling to attain a level of normalcy that was getting exhausting.

Eventually my doctor gave me the reality check that I needed; "This is not going to get better. This is only going to get worse unless you deal with it now. This is not going to be pleasant, but you either deal with the unpleasantness now or you let the inevitable chase you for the rest of your life until you finally do deal with it."

And Then My Brain Exploded....

My kids look almost nothing like me. Like....at all. In fact people will say to me all the time "oh my gosh, your daughter is so beautiful! She looks NOTHING like you!"

Awkward....

A few weeks ago while at the park, a woman walked up to me, pointed to my children, and proceeded to thank me for adopting "those poor Hispanic kids." Um.....what? First off, as wonderful as adoption is, I didn't adopt them. Secondly, they aren't Hispanic (not that I would care if they were). Third, who says that to someone? There are like five things strange and wrong with that conversation right there. I was like "Um...yea, they are biologically mine, they are Native American, and.....yea." I didn't even know what to say. The woman looked me up and down and exclaimed "no way. You couldn't possibly have made a dark baby."

I do not make pale babies

My ex was almost entirely Native American and my kids inherited the beautiful brown skin of that ethnicity. With the exception of inheriting my light(er) brown hair, they have all the dark features of their Native American ancestors. They were born with their ancestor's distinctive almond shaped eyes; eyes so dark that I couldn't even see where their pupils were, which is in obvious stark contrast to my bright blue eyes.

Black baby eyes

Not My Shame's First Contest

Guys, we are at our 100th post!! That is insane to me!! In honor of our 100th post, I was thinking that we should celebrate with a little reader involvement.

**Hey, Awesome Editor Friend who I know is reading this blog and yet never comments, do you know what your mummified rat picture spurred? It spurred this fantabulous idea;

Send me all your strange photos.

Yep, you read that right. For our next edition of "things that just make you ask why," all of the picture's are going to be compiled of things that you guys have submitted. You are welcome to send in a caption to go with the picture as well, or you can leave that little detail to whatever my twisted brain comes up with, but either way, send me your photo's!

Now I was trying to figure out how I would get all of these pictures without actually having to download a bunch of viruses attachments to my computer and what I came up with was to have you post them to either my Facebook or Google+ page and then I can save the photo to my computer. Once I've received all of your photo's, I will compile them into a reader's edition of "things that just make you ask why," and then you guys, yes all of you, can vote for your favorite's in the comments section.

The winner will receive....

NOTHING!

Sorry, you get nothing except for the overwhelming joy of knowing that you brought a smile to the face of thousands of bored-out-of-their minds-overworked-cubicle employee's, people smashed between other people on public transportation, stay-at-home mothers who have had it up to their eyebrows with their children, and all of the other people that come to my blog on a daily basis to watch the train wreck that is Eden Strong. Yes, you, yes you, will get the joy and satisfaction of knowing that you have helped bring a smile to the face of previously non-smiling people all over the world.

Isn't that enough for you?

Now because I don't want to leave all of you previously non-smiling people in a non-smiling state, I will go ahead and submit the first photo.

Why did my ex not notice that he was CLEARLY installing a PENIS tile in the MIDDLE of our bathroom floor? Now I have to look at this dick every time I walk in there.

Ok, now that you are all grinning, send me your photo's!! You have ten days from today to get them all in!

I promise I'm Not A Creepy Super Stalker

I was thinking the other day about how I never really get embarrassed. Now yes, there are definitely times when I should have been embarrassed, but I just wasn't. I think it probably has something to do with my complete and utter lack of social graces.

For example, I went to a benefit luncheon for the sole purpose of networking for my nonprofit. I was graciously invited by Frisbee Boy's Mother and was excited for the opportunity to attend. Champagne at noon? A fancy lunch at a beautiful horse farm? Orchestra? Beautiful day on the patio? Sign me up!

After my last benefit fiasco, the one that included the whole "being way under dressed at an event"  situation, I was determined to dress appropriately this time.

Dress code? Nailed it.

Socially graceful?

Not so much.

When Everything Is Just Not Ok

**Ok, little disclaimer here, not sure why, but one glass of wine has made me a little bit fuzzy brained tonight...probably because it's 9:02pm and I haven't eaten since like 11am, but still that's really unlike me. Anyways... forgive my spelling and grammar errors as I quickly wrote this post this morning figuring I would edit it tonight...and now...yea. In other news....I feel great!!!**

So.....I bet you are all wondering what has been going on since my crazy ex shot out my daughter's window, right?

Well, I'm not trying to keep anyone in suspense, I just don't have much to tell. I didn't go into much detail in the last post, but the cop that showed up was actually really nice. My daughter was hiding under my son's crib when he showed up. I explained to him that the last time she had seen the police was back in October when they stormed the house and ran into her room with their guns drawn, thoroughly freaking her out. The cop got down on the floor and whispered to her "what are we hiding from?" She whispered back "I'm hiding from you!"

"Hiding from me!?" he exclaimed. "Why are you hiding from me!? Am I scary? I don't want to be scary!" Then he looked in the mirror and pretended to freak out at his reflection. Once he had both of the kids laughing, my daughter slowly crept out from under the bed. He got down to her level and told her "I'm here to help you, you don't need to be afraid of me, I'm here to help."

With that my boy child grabbed his hand, led him over to the corner of his room, pointed to a broken light, and said "I need you help me fix my white (light)." Then, to my surprise, the cop FIXED it. Score!

After that he took a look at the house, confirmed that it had been shot, and asked me a bunch of questions. His exact words were "if it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, it's a duck. We both know your ex did this but unfortunately we have no proof."

And Another Few Bite The Dust

Well, I guess it’s finally time to give you the boyfriend update. If you remember from my post “Can’t I Just Bang Them Both,” I was trying to decide what to do about the relationships I was in. I was dating Doctor Dude, who was pretty much everything I was looking for, plus there was just something about him that really got my heart beating. Aside from Doctor Dude, I was also dating Secret Agent Guy. Secret Agent Guy also had most of what I was looking for and was always there when I needed him.

If you also remember, Doctor Dude and Secret Agent Guy each had another girlfriend. All was happy in polyamory land until Doctor Dude moved to the next state over and Secret Agent Guy thought that was the opportune time to break-up with his other girlfriend and ask me to break-up with Doctor Dude.

Sigh.

So what I was left with was an amazing guy who lived a state away with no plans to move back and another great guy who lived near me but for some reason just didn’t get my heart beating the way Doctor Dude did.

I thought about it a lot, I looked over all the advice that you guys gave me, I had a few good talks with myself, and then…..

I broke up with both of them.

I know, I know, “Eden! Stop throwing away perfectly good men!!”

You see, here’s the thing. They were great, they really were. Both were great and have great things to offer, I just don’t think I want them offered to me. I don’t just want great, if I’m going to be in a relationship, I want “amazing.”

Doctor Dude just lives to far away now. I'll admit, my heart was a bit weepier than my last few break-ups when I said good-bye to him, but it just wasn't going to work. He moved to be closer to his kids and had he moved back for me, I think I would have lost a little respect for him. As for me, my neighbors and my friends are my family and I don't want to move, not from the only place that I've ever felt not only accepted, but wanted. As much as I liked him, I didn't see the point in continuing to invest myself in something that seemed destined for an ending that I wouldn't like.

Secret Agent Guy, he was great, but he just didn’t feel like everything I wanted and I wasn't ready to commit to monogamy. If I am going to be in an exclusive relationship, I want the whole package. I want the “meets a good portion of my requirements guy,” I want the beating heart and the living near me benefits. I want all of it, I’m being selfish, and I’m ok with that.  

I’m ok with that because I’m ok with me.

Things That Make You Ask "Why?" Part 7

Yay! It's time for another edition of "things that just make you ask why" courtesy of Eden's phone.

(IN OTHER NEWS; make sure you read to the bottom for a few random updates to Not My Shame's media pages)

Why am I going to have a heart attack at the ripe old age of 31? Because this is what happens when you tell a guy "Yea, I don't really care, just get me something." He comes back with cheese fries, more cheese fries, potato skins hiding under a pile of cheese, sour cream, and bacon, and some 9,780 calorie sandwich masquerading as lettuce. You had better believe we ate it all and then we got ice cream.

Why was this on the clearance rack? Not enough immigrants shopping here during the holiday season? This was in a size 3T! How funny, I've never seen that before. It's good that they are catering to the masses but it was still funny to see since you typically see this printed on onsie's for infants.

To The Woman Who Isn't Yet Free

To the woman who isn’t yet free,

You are someone.

I don’t care what he tells you or what he tries to make you believe, you are someone. You aren’t a failure. You aren’t worthless, stupid, a burden, or anything else that he tries to make you believe.

You are amazing and he knows it. He controls you because he doesn’t want you to know that you are better than him. He tears apart every detail of your being because if you could see how amazing you are, he knows you would leave him. He silences you not because you can’t live without him, but because he can’t live without you. If he allows you to think for yourself, he knows you will realize that you deserve better.

You don’t deserve what he is doing to you. Nothing that is going on is your fault and things will not get better because of anything that you can change. I don’t even care if you talked back or spoke up, there is a reason you have a voice and you are allowed to use it. He may scream louder and hit harder, but that’s only because he can’t deal with the fact that you have your own thoughts. To steal your voice is to silence your soul; if he can’t hear you, then you aren't human, and what he is doing, then it's not wrong.

Today's Post Is Taking Place Elsewhere

A few months ago a woman who I will now refer to as my "Awesome Editor Friend" contacted me through my blog and offered me the opportunity to write for two different sites, Catster and Dogster. I was obviously excited, but seeing as how I currently have no pets of my own, I wasn't sure what I would write about. Well you know me, I'm not about to let a minor detail stop me from letting a little bit of my crazy shine through, so I whipped up a few bizarre articles and luckily for me, my new Awesome Editor Friend is exactly my kind of crazy and accepted them.

I mean seriously, you know you have found an Awesome Editor Friend when you find yourself cheering her on as she demolishes a sextub left behind by her landlord. Then when she finds a mummified rat under it, she emails you a picture and that solidifies your now very awesome, yet twisted friendship.

See? That girl is exactly my kind of crazy and I'm really happy to be working for her!

That Time I Almost Had A Baby In The Car

As I said in the post “Oh F*ck I Peed On The Floor,” both of my kid’s birthdays are within a several week time period. Since I told you about how much I enjoyed tolerated being pregnant with my daughter, I thought it only fair that I also tell you about being pregnant with my son.

By the time I got pregnant with my son, I had already had a baby, so I should have had this pregnancy thing down, am I right?

Wrong.

Why is pregnancy so different each time around? I mean like seriously, everything feels different. Because it was my second baby I looked pregnant almost right away, but because I was so busy chasing after a two year old I would constantly forget that I was pregnant until I looked down and saw my HUGE belly.

You guys, I was seriously huge. I’m not even exaggerating, I was huge. See the picture? There was only one baby in there, I swear. I’m not a very big person to begin with and I don’t have a very long torso, so that baby had nowhere to grow except for out, and out did he grow.

Doesn't that freak you out a little? It totally freaks me out looking at it. It absolutely freaked me out living it.

I knew almost immediately that he was a boy. Again, I don’t know how I knew, I just did. The morning of my gender ultrasound I was terrified. Up until that point in my pregnancy my husband had repeatedly warned me that I had better not be having a boy and I was really worried about what would happen when he found out that I was indeed, having a boy.

Yes, You Read That Right, Someone Shot My Daughter's Window

So I started out this weekend with big plans, big plans to do nothing. We have been exceedingly busy the last few weekends with a pretty crazy social schedule and so it was important to take a weekend where the kids could just chill, relax, and play with their toys.

It started out pretty well. Friday night we ate dinner on the front yard so that the kids could eat, play, and run around.

Frisbee

Dinner

When my son noticed that the tractors were plowing the field, I played the part of the adaptable mommy and we quickly packed up and moved to the balcony so that he could watch the tractors while he ate. I even agreed to let everyone change clothes because it was "hotter on the balcony mommy."