I Learned That I Was Crazy When She Caught Lice

**I wrote this and never posted it! Join me as we jump back to July.**

I was brushing her hair right up until the moment that my heart stopped.

"Is her hair moving? Why the hell is her hair moving? No freaking way is her hair moving" I find myself thinking as my brain is scrambling to wrap it's tiny little confused brain cells around any plausible explanation for what I am seeing.

Yep, something is moving alright, but it’s not her hair.

It’s a bug. Oh no wait….it’s not “a” bug, it’s "bug's."

Lice to be exact.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you suddenly feel as if you are the dirtiest person on the planet? No? Just me? Well let me tell you, I’ve had that week. The entire freaking week has left me walking around feeling as though I need to tent my house for extermination, take a bath in bleach, and send the children off to daycare inside of large Ziploc bags to protect them from other germy people.

First the Boy Child came home from daycare with a lovely case of hand, foot, and mouth disease. Next I realized that there was a mouse in my house and now I find myself sitting here staring at the head of my daughter....who apparently has lice. 

Wait….do I have lice too? Is my head itching? Yes, my head is definitely itching BECAUSE OF ALL THE LICE I MOST CERTAINLY HAVE.

I make a call to the daycare center that my children attend and the director barely finishes saying hello before I blurt out “Hi, you know how sometimes you call me and say things that I don’t want to hear, things like “hey your kid just threw up and you have to come and get them? Well….my turn. My kid has lice and I think she got it from another child at your center.”

Sure enough, they check and she is only one of about 7 little girls that are now growing their very own personal lice farms right on top of their teeny tiny heads.

Gag. Me. Now.

Happy Thanksgiving

I just wanted to take a minute to wish all of you a Happy Thanksgiving!!

I know from interacting with so many of you that the holidays can be rough on a lot of people. Society's portrayal of celebrations involving big families, lots of food, and material goods, can, as one person commented, "put a spotlight on your own shortcomings."

Just know that despite what you do or don't have this holiday, this particular celebration starts with thankfulness. This is your life, you are in control of what you look at, so when you feel like the spotlight is on what you don't have, shift it over to shine on what you do.

I'm choosing to spend this holiday holding what I have so close to my face that I will be unable to look past it and view what I don't have. If I choose to look at my blessings, I won't be able to see my disappointments.

If you will, do me a favor and list a couple of things things in the comment section that you are thankful for, maybe a blessing that hasn't always been so apparent to you.

When you belong to a community like this one, a wonderful group of sometimes hurting hearts, it helps to remind each other that even while we are hurting, we are still healing. That the blessings are there even when they aren't as obvious as we would like them to be.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone.

May the spotlight shine so brightly on your blessings today that you are blind to anything beyond their view.

Sun Photo Credit

I Broke Up With Him

I broke up with The Detective Whose Name I Do Not Like.

It sucks, I'm bummed, but I'm OK with it.

Here's the thing; He was great. No really, he was. I have absolutely no complaints about him whatsoever. Super sweet, thoughtful, good looking, responsible, etc, etc, etc, and yet I broke up with him anyways.

Ugh you guys, I know, I KNOW.

"Eden stop doing this to yourself!!"

Remember the uproar when my guy friend told me he wanted to be with me and I told him no?

I never regretted it.

I don't think I will regret this either.

Although I miss The Detective Whose Name I Do Not Like.

I miss him a lot.

But not enough.

Not enough to make me reconsider.

I Couldn't Leave You By Your Lonesome ALL Weekend!

It's No Work Weekend again and we've been busy over here!

Do you know what's better than sitting at home on a Friday night while drinking wine in your pajama's?

Sitting at home on a Friday night while drinking wine while in your pajama's with your friends.

Like my monkey feet?

It's even better when they bring snacks and wine.

But anyways, just because I'm over here partying circa high school style doesn't mean I'm going to leave you without at least a couple of things to read while you are snuggled up on your own couch.

(Just click the links, which are the highlighted words, and you will be taken to an article I wrote elsewhere this week).

I May Or May Not Have Accidentally Stolen Something Kinda Large

So…..I accidentally stole something kind of large recently.

I swear it was accidental.

Here let me explain. Remember the dishwasher that when bought, just happen to come with a date from the appliance guy who we referred to as Piano Man? Well if you remember him then you must remember how fabulously things ended with him; in a screaming match on the phone while he called me a bitch and I hung up on him.

That was pleasant.

Well low and behold not two days after that did my brand spanking new dishwasher stop working. Of course that would happen, OF COURSE IT WOULD.

Well I’m not about to let a little boy drama get in between me and what I consider to be a very necessary appliance, so I didn’t waste any time contacting the store.

But, let’s just say that Piano Man must have spread the word about what a bitch I was because the response I got was less than friendly.

Basically they didn’t care.

Yea, that’s not really gonna fly with me. 

I called the corporate headquarters, explained that the dishwasher wasn’t working, that the manager refused to replace it, and they got the store manager on the phone with us in a three way call. Only after the corporate office representative gave the manager a passive aggressive reminder of their company policy did the he agree to send a technician out to look at it.

A few days later a representative, not from the store but from the dishwasher manufacturer, showed up, took a look at it, and without doing so much as opening and closing the door, deemed it broken and unfixable.

It Only Hurts Because I'm Too Good For You

My daughter started seeing the grief counselor at school three weeks ago. She goes once a week and they talk about loss. After her first appointment I asked her what she talked about and she said "the lady asked me to tell her something sad that happened to me. I told her that we had a daddy but he left because he didn't want us anymore."

Devastation.

My heart breaks for her. I was hoping that because she was so young when everything happened that maybe she would have an easier time adjusting, but that hasn't proved to be the case.

When my ex first left I got her into counseling immediately. She seemed so non effected by all the changes that I was worried that maybe she just wasn't able to express how she was feeling. The counselor worked with her for several weeks in a play therapy setting and eventually discharged her with the statement that she was "extremely bright and well adjusted."

I gave myself a little pat on the back, sent up a little "thank you" to the sky, and went about my merry way.

Now though, she is older. Along with her age appropriate inclination to question everything I tell her, her developing brain and natural curiosity are bringing to the surface a sudden need to question why her dad left us.

I don't even know why her dad left us.

I mean I understand logically why he did, but I just can't get my momma heart to understand how he would leave his own children.

Her dad is gone and not only can I not fix that, there are no justifiable reasons to explain why he left her. Every explanation I give her, every reason I try to explain to her, is washed away by her feelings of grief and the very real absence of her father's presence.

Easy Bake Pancake Muffins

Winter is coming.

Ugh, I hate winter.

I live in the wrong state.

My friends are all "yay! Winter!! Yay!! We can stop working out, eat brownies, and wear big sweaters!! Yay winter!!" and I'm all "I still have to stand in front of a group of women several times a week in my underwear. Screw winter."

With that being said, winter is upon us and I feel myself slipping into the baking and cooking frenzy that seems to accompany fall in this household. By the time I get the kids home at night, lug everyone in, peel off 3 layers of slush covered winter wear, and turn the heat on that I turned off when I left for work that morning, the last thing I want to do is make dinner.

But....we are all most likely frozen from the inside out and starving; thus enters the cooking frenzy of fall.

As a single working mom I simply do not have time to make three meals a day. Combined with the fact that my financial situation doesn't allow for much wiggle room in the food-budget department, I really need to plan ahead. What this means is that I usually designate a couple hours in the beginning of the month to making meals in bulk and then freezing them. Last week I made 6 pounds of chili. SIX POUNDS of chili you guys.

I then split it up into family sized servings and froze it. After that I made four pounds of taco meat and ten pounds of baked sweet potato cinnamon bites. None of the meals took me longer than twenty minutes to prep and when everything was done cooking, I had quite a bit of food ready to pull out of the freezer as needed.

Facebook Doesn't Need To Change, I Do

It’s November again, which for all of my American counterparts means that we are gearing up to celebrate the holiday of Thanksgiving. Again, if you are one of my American counterparts, you might be seeing your Facebook newsfeed filling up with the “30 days of thankfulness” status updates. For those of you who are unfamiliar with that it’s basically where you post a status update everyday talking about something that you are thankful for. 

Because I think I might be a bitch, this has intensely irritated me in years past.

No, in all honesty, I truly am happy that my friends are leading the lives they are, I really am. As we talked about in the post “Mind If I Pop You With My Stick," I know that everyone has different struggles and just because someone has something I would like to have doesn’t mean that they have an entirely perfect life. I get it, I really do, and yet even though I truly am happy for them, I find the green monster of envy and bitterness whispering in my ear a little louder every November when I read ten statuses in a row about how wonderful everyone’s husbands or even superficial things such as all the holiday shopping that everyone is doing, knowing that I can't afford to shop for anyone and no one is likely to be shopping for me.

Sigh. I would like to say that I'm above all jealousy and always handle myself in ways that I'm proud of, but I would be lying through my teeth.

Like I said, I might just be a bitch.

Last year I found myself becoming quite bitter by the end of the month and having to take an actual break from Facebook because I was so annoyed that my friends had so much that I wanted.

Who does that!?

Jealous people, shallow people, possibly bitches, me. I did that.

Again, I can’t say that I’m too proud of myself….

Take A Deep Breath

It’s been awhile since I generally updated you on my life, hasn’t it? Sometimes life just sort of snowballs on me and then suddenly I realize that I haven’t updated you on certain things in a while. So, I guess it’s about time that I catch you up on a few things!

The Boy Child has been out of his intensive therapy program since June and he is doing wonderfully. He is right on target developmentally with all the other kids his age. Never in my life did I think I would be so happy to have a three year old boy tearing my house apart, but there is nothing that I love more than the normalcy of a destructive toddler. He has some residual sensory processing issues that we are dealing with, but I am nothing but optimistic about his future.

He is currently in preschool and already has a girlfriend. Yikes that boy, I’m going to need to keep my eye on him! Because we live in farmland he has become enthralled with tractors. Being harvest season, we spend much of our time outside watching them harvest the fields. Before you have kids you hear phrases such as "falling in love with it through a child's eyes," but until I had kids of my own I never really grasped how deep that concept runs. I now find myself squealing with joy when I hear the tractor engines roaring, knowing that my Boy Child is going to be thrilled, and I am going to be thrilled watching him be so happy.

***************************

The Girl Child is the one that I am the most astounded with though. I’ve only briefly talked about her medical issues on this blog, but she had a REALLY rough start in life. She has a genetic disorder that truly threatened to derail her future and just like my Boy Child, I really never thought she would get to the point in which she is at now. Before she was even two weeks old she was readmitted back into the hospital and for a while, I really wasn't sure what the outcome would be.

Four months old and even her father was getting nervous.

For Your Reading Enjoyment

Don't forget, it's No Work Weekend!!

Because of that, I won't be writing, but that doesn't mean you can't be reading!

If you aren't a Not My Shame Facebook fan, you might have missed a few things I've been working on, so I'll just go ahead and catch you up below:

If you are looking to relate to some mommy stories, pop over to my author bio page on Lifetime Mom's where you can see all my articles, including the most recent two detailing why the Girl Child and I are at odds with Disney and why my child did not meet my expectations.

You can find more parenting strangeness from me over at Scary Mommy. Their articles are oddly stacked on top of each other in my profile, so just keep scrolling down to read through them.

If sex is on your mind (hey, it's a weekend!!) head on over to my bio page at YourTango. I will warn you, those articles aren't for virginal eyes and blushy faces, but if sex is your thing, make sure you click the "read more" button for a full list of my articles.

If you want nothing to do with humans this weekend, well hell it's a weekend and more power to ya! In that case, hop on over to Catster and read about the time that my cat died, and I almost killed my dad because of it. It is literally one of my favorite stories....possibly ever. I think there are a couple new articles on there as well, so just make sure to scroll down.

If you don't like humans AND you don't like cats, rest assured, I have whipped up a few dog articles on Dogster for you as well. Do you think dogs are easier than kids? I sure as hell do and you can find my reason's to back up that claim right here. You can also read about why I needed to rehome my beloved pug.

If that's not enough for you, sorry, can't help you. Pop some popcorn, grab a movie, and I will see you on Monday!

I will at least leave you with a little "pick me up."

Have a wonderful weekend everyone!!

At Least It's Not An Umbrella

For some people it's buying a minivan, for others it's gaining the soccer mom or dad title, and for even more it's resigning yourself to the mom haircut.

You guys know what I'm talking about, right?

I'm talking about that one moment, that one thing that when finally accepted means that you have officially lost all of your youth and are now old. People fight whatever they consider that moment to be for years in a desperate attempt to not have to face the reality that is aging.

Me?

I refuse to buy an umbrella.

An umbrella people. AN UMBRELLA.

I know, I know, I never claimed to be normal, but do you know who I am convinced buys umbrellas? Responsible parents, prepared business people, mature senior citizens, and  other uptight people who are not me. Do you know who does not buy umbrellas? Children, Irresponsible teenagers, poor college students, weird hippies, delusional happy-go-lucky-awesome-people, and me.

I refuse to buy an umbrella.

That is my moment people, I have not yet lost my youth simply based on the fact that I do not own an umbrella.

(Shush you people and your logical arguments, DON'T RUIN THIS INSANITY FOR ME.)

You see, I already feel old. I'll admit it, my kids make me feel old.

There, I said it. (I will be awaiting the flaming comments of Internet land.)

Really though, I'm just calling it like I feel it. It's kind of hard not to feel old when your kid is already well underway in her own childhood. Love my kids, wouldn't trade them for the world, but they make me feel old.

The other day a friend found, in her basement, a brand new (albeit twenty year old), sing-along book that came with a cassette tape. She told me "I know you won't use the tape but maybe your Girl Child would use the book." I took it home, handed the Girl Child the whole thing, and then a few minutes later noticed that she was looking at the tape as if I had just handed her a book written in Chinese.

"Do you know what that is?" I asked her.

"Yea" she replied confidently. "It's tape!"

"How did you know that" I exclaimed, honestly a little shocked.

With that she grabbed the actual tape film and yanked it right out of the cassette cartridge so fast that it actually made a whizzing noise. "It was really nice of them to give us some tape in case a page in the book ripped!" she exclaimed.

I FELT VERY, VERY, OLD.

They Came Softly

I know, the title, but come on, it wouldn't really be my blog without at least one slightly inappropriate innuendo, now would it?

Ok, now GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER.

I saw my mother at the grocery store the other day. 

I needed to go to the health food store and I drove 12 minutes out of my way just to avoid having to drive near her neighborhood, because that is how much I did not want to see the woman; the woman who I haven't seen since I had essentially burglarized her house. I figured it was worth adding an extra twelve minutes to my drive just for the peace of mind that I might not accidentally pull up to a stoplight next to her; as if we are that much alike to plan our schedules accordingly.

Except that OH NO HA HA HA apparently we are because I ran into her at the grocery store. Now when I say I ran into her, I literally mean I RAN INTO HER. Actually, she backed into me, shopping cart and all, but nonetheless,

NO. Just NO.

That is much too close, STEP AWAY FROM EDEN.

How dare this former family member of mine SHOP at the GROCERY STORE for things that people eat EVERYDAY!?

Actually, I would have been less surprised if she had showed up on my doorstep, seeing as how I was in a health food store....but that's another story for another time....

I digress.

So, the woman backs into me and it was all....

Nothing.

It was nothing. I was all "Hi mother" and she was all "oh!!! Eden!!! Whatever in the world are you DOING here!? How are the kids!? What are you up too!? You look wonderful! How is work!?"

and I was all "......yea, I'm fine, take care."

Then I simply walked away and that was it.

That was really fucking weird and also, who was that woman?