Pics of my grandbaby. Just because.

I got to see her and hold her and kiss her and smell her and rock her and rub her head and my ovaries are on fire….

The Moody Kiddos – Ian (Chair), Austin behind him. Savanna next to him, then Carson, then Tyler, then Zach in the maroon jacket.
Me and Emily
GiGi (Me) & Emily & Austin (Baby Daddy)
The most beautiful baby in the world…
Jason (Grandpa) & Emily
I love her facial expressions …
Did I mention I love her expressions?
Many servants.
Starting to smile for real.

Uncle Zach
Pretty baby.
Uncle Tyler

Can’t sleep

Which sucks, because we are taking I A N to children’s mercy this morning for his semi-annual checkup. Somewhere around 8-9 departments in this one visit. Main areas are heart and lungs. I need to know these numbers for my own mental being. He’s sick though, so the visit will probably go right out the window. He was just a little sick a week ago, but he’s getting sicker every few days. Very frustrating as they told us to try and keep him away as long as possible – cause there are sick kids up there, and he could catch something worse. Not sure if he has covid or pneumonia or the flu – but it’s something. Scary. He can’t cough, and the mucus is non stop. Sorry, but that’s our life right now. He has a cough assist machine and a suction machine. Life is real fun right now.

Been getting along swimmingly…

although now that i’ve said that, a mother of God argument will happen. Let’s hope not. I love that sumbitch.

Lewis Capaldi is once again filling my ear buds with sweet sounds. I had laid off the cd for awhile, but i got sucked back in.

I was listening to J A S O N’s new little bluetooth radio thingy last night, and he was playing some country song that said something like – ain’t nothing funny when a soldier cries. I haven’t heard something so fucking sad in all my life. I cried for a long while when I heard that. I know that’s not why I cry, but I still appreciate the honesty of that statement.

New Year’s was spent here at home. We talked all night, and it was nice. We laughed and had fun like we used to. He said he’s working on him, and I said I had noticed.



That shit above was from January.

I thought I had something to say. I thought wrong i guess.


Still no baby.

Oh well. She must need more cook time.

I feel down no matter what I take or do. Very frustrating. This is why people drink. I get it now. This pain that can never heal 100%. This pain that will only get worse for us. This pain that occupies your mind every second of consciousness. So why be conscious. I wish I drank. But I don’t. Was a thought anyway.

I thought I had peeked into every room in my mind. I thought I had a handle on what was coming. Not that I can survive it any easier, but at least I know what’s headed our way.

Nope.

There are still things that we have to face that I didn’t think about. Like invasive procedures that will save a life temporarily. Like what to do with ashes. Like where to have a service when the people who own/run it are the parents of the best friend. Ugh. Seriously makes me light headed to think about, but we must. We must. Its’s not possible to put together services like that on a whim when you’re heartbroken. In a daze. I want everything perfect, so I’m doing it now. We talked to the guy about different containers for ashes. I want us all to be in the cremation park that dad’s in. Different headstones though than normal ones. THese are tiny and some can be benches or whatever. Very nice. Very peaceful.

Still blows my mind we even need to talk about this shit.

I dug out that book that is like a guidebook of sorts for D u chenne. Very helpful. Very sad. Very tactful, thoughtful answers on the questions that the kids ask. Even the hard ones. I just have to stop my eyes from leaking as a read it.

Got my nails done, so i type like shit even more than i regularly do…

And that’s pretty bad. I feel pretty when my nails are done though. Like a girl anyway.

Emily is due in less than 3 weeks. ! Finally. Any second now I could be a grandma. A Gigi. I cannot wait to meet her.

I offered my old ring set to my future daughter in law. SLow goings on the ring savings this year. All they have to do is size it and add a stone. Still cheaper than paying for the ring/setting as well. I hope she answers yes so they can get this marriage business in motion. Before she walks away after 7 years. Poor girl. I adore her. I hope she hangs on long enough for him to show her that he loves her.

J A S O N and are getting along fine. Day by day. MInute by minute sometimes. But getting along. We have developed a strange way of …. discussing? Trying above all else to respectful and nice while trying slowly to get the real point across. Men and women are different. They talk different. They mean different things when they say the same exact thing a woman says. I get it. Sometimes we just need to be reminded of that so we can try to talk each other’s language without letting emotions get involved – because it feels like a learning session more than anything.

Besides, watching him parent I A N every day mends any beefs I got. I married an amazing person. Twice. lol

Yeah, for those not in the know, we divorced after 9 year of marriage. We remarried a bit later and have been together for 21 more years. We hit 31 years in April. And yes, I get two anniversaries. I’m worth it. Or insane to think two is normal or warranted, but I get two all the same. neener

Wow, haven’t updated in awhile. Shocker.

Had that shit cut off my face this morning. I’d post pics, but I’m too vain. No, i’m not kidding. I look like I lost the fight. Seriously, and I’m supposed to go to work tomorrow? Yeah, right.

Doesn’t hurt though. Now. Numbing me up almost did me in. Needles in the face. Lovely.

Few more weeks till Baby Emily gets here….. I feel like I haven’t bought enough yet. I still need a pack n play and a few baby items for our house. Cause you know we will be a free babycare option. Hopefully they utilize the service. Often. Unless Baby Emily is a screaming neamie – and then we will visit them.

J A S O N and I had another discussion, but it wasn’t a fight for a change.

Mainly because I wrote him a letter to approach him about it instead. He read it that morning when he got up, and got angry. Then he took a shower because I said not to wake me I didn’t want to fight anymore. So he calmed down in the shower, realized anger was not the correct response, and woke me up to hug me. I was pretty upset in the letter. I went on and on and ended up contemplating a break up. While both still living at home because we need him too much for him to ever leave. ANd I ain’t going nowhere. So when he hugged me instead of yelling at me, I knew he had really read the letter and had taken it the right way. That’s all I needed. To know that he’s still my best friend. That he’s still taking my side in life. That he’d rather be here than anywhere else. That he’d rather be with me than anyone else. I gave him wings and free reign in that letter. It’s not what was wrong, it was how he’d respond that was the real problem. I can’t live with someone I can’t talk to for fear they will blow up. No thank you. I was that person many years ago, and I lived with a mother like that for 18 years. No thank you. I loved him because he’s never been like that. Till now. Till the last few months. Ever since Ian’s surgeries. He’s stressed beyond belief. always in a rush. Like he’s never on time. He snaps at me at the slightest disagreement. All out war over stupid shit. GOes off on tangents just to fight some more it seems like. I love him more than anything I have or will ever have. But I ain’t living on eggshells. BTDT.

But he really read it. LIke, between the lines. He knew it wasn’t about the stupid shit I started the letter with , it was the heart that poured out afterward that was the important part. And he got it. He calmed down and he got it. I think the shower radio I bought him for CHristmas last year for $8 is the best $8 I’ve ever spent. He sings his heart out now to music. He loves that thing. Bluetooths it to his phone and itunes, and look out. But it’s dying. It was only $8 yanno. Worked pretty good for $8. So, I bought him a new one – even bought it back when he was being a royal dick. It’ sunder the tree.

ANyway, I had a horrible two days trying to word the letter just right. I was so nervous how he’d react. I honestly thought I might lose him. He flies off the handle over lesser things. But, I didn’t lose him. I think I got my husband back. He’s been kinder lately, but he said he realized that I wasn’t coming from a place to attack him. I was asking him about his fucking gaming app purchases and it snowballed into – I’d tell you to your face but you’d bite my head off and pack your bags. And he got it. Sorry, I’m just in shock. Been in shock all day. This is huge for me. For us. Lately.

Getting along so well we talked more about I a n. About planning things that are inevitably coming our way. Music. Pictures. Services. Places. Options. I know it sounds sick, but i feel better working this shit out. I feel better working it out together. Knowing we’re on the same page for the second most important thing in our life. The first important thing was watching our son Ian come into this world. The second will be feeling him leave it. Say what you will, think what you want. But the more we do before is less we have to do then – when we have lost our fucking minds and do not want to make those kinds of decisions. We did that with dad. And mom picked some hokey song that haunts her to this day. I won’t do that again. It’s too important. Maybe I’m crazy or stupid or mental, but I think a life should be celebrated with a thoughtful, beautiful, well thought out last service. Go out with a bang. Not expensive, just meaningful. Or at the very least, not hokey.

Time for bed.

I”m only giving myself 11 minutes to write this, so it’s going to be shit

I have Christmas with my sister and mom tomorrow morning and I have to get to bed. I type like shit enough without having to go fast.

Anyfuckingway.

My boob test came back 5 masses – all cysts. I’m happy. I have a boobie mri in June just to make sure none of them are growing. But I’m happy.

I go on the 8th to get this fucking thing cut off my face. Did I mention that? I have basal cell on my fucking face. Right under my eye? Did I? I can’t remember anymore. But I do, and I want it gone. Serious or not. She said I’ll have a black eye for awhile. Guess she’s gonna fuck me up. That’s ok little lady – do whatcha gotta do.

And I had a genetics test done because my sister tested positive for some gene. It multiplies cancer risk by doubling it. Sweet. Emphasis on colon, breast, and ovarian cancer. I might frown on removing my breasts on a what if, but I don’t seem to mind the idea of getting rid of these fucking ovaries. I don’t need em and my aunt died from that shit. I know I’ll turn into a man but I can handle that. She did say that if I cut off my boobs they will reconstruct them. That gave me pause. Am I shallow? I am huh? That’s ok. You can say I’m shallow if you want. But in my defense, my boobs are hideous. Like a wet sock stuck inside a dry sock? Yes, you could probably smack someone upside the head with the ball of my boob. Sexy. I pour right out of a regular bra – right out the bottom. Like silly slime. So attractive. So I buy VS padded bras that bring me up to where I should be.

Uh oh – time is up. Sweet dreams. Merry CHristmas. Safe New Year.

I told myself 2 am. Let’s see if I make it.

Doubtful. I’m still hungry. Taco Bell screwed up my order again and I went hungeeee all night. Assholes. How fucking hard is it guys? I did it. It’s not hard. Step by step. Get the food out. The right fucking food. I hate working when I’m that hungry.

Damn, let me step out for a cookie. Alrighty. Try 6 cookies. Stop. Just stop.

Omhell. The ‘radio’ I have in my head is playing so fucking loud that i can’t hear myself think. That’s no bullshit. Right now ted nugent is come on come on come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. Best part right there, but Let’s turn it down now. My gawd. I do not control the music in my head. Nor the horrorvision that plays nonstop horrific images of the worst of what can happen of any situation. My stress rides at all all time high when the kids drive. I see pictures of them wrapping themselves around a tree or getting hit by a semi or hit by a rock thrown over the fucking bridge on 22nd street. I mean, seriously. My brain has gone out to lunch and left me here dumb as a box of rocks, emotions out and about cause I’m all friendly and shit now, and I keep getting hit in the head with a shovel out of nowhere. There’s even a po rn channel in my mind. I don’t control this either. Thankfully, my OCD has given me one that I can handle. It’s nothing more than a non stop fantasy in one way or another. Usually with my husband, so it’s all good.

so back to the radio, it’s fucking loud and this bitch doesn’t control the volume. Sometimes if I change what I’m doing, I’ll get a reprieve for awhile. I don’t mind the music so much, but I don’t understand why it’s so fucking loud tonight. Enough whining. Could be worse. I could hear voices instead.

Thanks Tink. Thanks for caring. I forget how much I love my internet friends. And they are very very real and I shouldn’t forget that.

I feel so alone without Jenny and Shawn. I feel lonely without my old best friend too, but she made her choice when she blinked out of our lives. I’m not chasing anyone. I feel alone when Jason and I fight. I have no where to go when I threaten to leave. He left the other day, and I wondered where the fuck he would go. He has IRL friends, but not on a very close level. One, but I just don’t know if he’d go there. Turns out he said he drove around. His plan was to let me cool down until he ran out of gas, then have me come get him. Genius there.

Had another fight last night. It’s just stress. Fucking stress. We are only human God. We can’t take much more. I mean, we will always do whatever the fuck we have to do, but it’s gets old. We’ve been together 30 years. We’ve had 6 kids, and helped raise a dozen more. When is it our turn to enjoy this money we’re finally making and spoil some grandkids. When will enough be enough with the sorrow and bullshit diseases. When will life not come with a pit in the stomach.

Whining over.

My mammogram and u/s results were shit. Boobs are too dense. They feel the lump, but they can’t get a read on it. I have a trio of cysts in one of my boobs, and they were looking to see if that’s what i feel. Even though I haven’t felt it before. WHich would mean the cysts are growing. Which they told me wouldn’t happen. I have a more indepth test on the 16th. And a genetics test on the 17th. Yay. Let’s go see what I Have so they can talk me into cutting off my boobs. Gah

So, I wait. Wait with this Thing in my boob. Wait when my skin is crawling thinking about it. Wait when i’m wondering if i could dig it out with a fork quicker. I won’t. Just wondering.

I don’t dream anymore. Except last night. I dreamt I had it and it was everywhere and they gave me 6 weeks. And I died without seeing my first grandchild. Today, that dream played on repeat while I suffered. I love OCD.

I’m eating a cookie. Just thought I’d share. I don’t really eat sweets anymore. But this damn thing is tasty. I forgot that Sugar is my friend. I keep losing weight. I know. That’s about 50lbs now. I can’t keep my balance for shit. I fall over just standing there. My eyesight is shit shit shit. Just gets shittier every fucking year. I don’t even make it a year. I start calling around the 7 th month asking if it’s time yet. Cause I can’t see. I have progressive bifocals, and i walk around with my head up so i can look out the bottom where the RX is strongest. Such an idiot. I can’t hear. People stop, face me, and repeat themselves loudly these days. I feel like a boob. But I can’t fucking hear. Wait, I can hear. Volume is fine. I can’t understand you. It’s garbled. It’s Charlie Brown’s teacher. I am forgetting words. Everyone does this, but when my brain forgets, I don’t get to just stand there and ponder. My mouth gets in on the action and comes up with a splendid replacement. Tampon was twatcicle. Twat. I don’t even say that word. It’s gross. But it’s words like that that don’t exist usually. Add all this up, and I am convinced its spread to my brain. I don’t normally like to buy trouble like this, but without knowing for sure, my mind is having a hayday.

Ok, I should get the rest of my shopping done. At 1am. Go me.

Just a minute, I need toast.

Except the bread is a lovely shade of green. Grrrross. Guess we need to go to the store. And to therapy. I don’t think a meal has been cooked in that kitchen all week. I’m not home and he’s tired. He’s become a single mom. And he’s not faring well right now. He’s drowning, and I can’t help him because I’ve been drowning for 10 years. Shhhhhhiiiiiiit, more like 30, but who’s counting. Nice of you to join me. Let’s struggle together. Hope we survive.

We had a nice week. We have not had a nice past few weeks, so that’s why I am noting the improvement. We aren’t at each other’s throats. We aren’t saying bye bitch when the other one threatens to run away. We aren’t tiptoeing through the tulips hoping not to wake a demon. We aren’t merely existing as two adults in a house. We weren’t sleeping in the same bed thanks to me working late and him falling asleep on the couch waiting for me. He’s a fucking zombie if you try to wake him, so I leave him. Bed hurts his back anyway. We weren’t talking. He would let me sleep as long as possible in the mornings, then leave when I woke up. I’d be gone before he got home from work. He’s asleep when I get home. I try to get up earlier, but I’m old and I’m tired and I need more sleep than I usually do. I can’t hang on 3 hours anymore. 4 maybe. 5 is ideal. So I get home at 2, have to unwind and settle my brain, fall asleep about 3. Get up at 6 to help him get Ian ready, then I fall back asleep until he leaves. He’d let me sleep longer but I want him to wake me up so I don’t piss away my whole day. Not much time for us to talk. We weren’t having sex. No time for that either. We weren’t eating a meal together. We weren’t connecting on any level.

Not sure what we were fighting for, but it just doesn’t seem worth it to bicker and bullshit our relationship away. He’s nicer, I’m nicer. I’ve watched my tone, he turned off the tv on my only day off. I sure heart him for that. TV fills my head with noise. We’ve been trying to sleep in bed. I need to buy him a mattress topper for CHristmas.

Then when I found the lump, he became softer to me. I need that right now. I just need someone to give me two fucking minutes and take the wheel while i close my eyes and learn how to breathe again.

We’ve got to stop meeting like this. At 2am.

I need some fucking sleep. Not going to get it, I just have that feeling. My brain will not turn off. but I just got off work, and I’m getting squished in the morning. I’m stressed man. I don’t want to be one of those people that feel fine until something gets out of whack enough to get them to the doc – only to find out they are advanced to the point of weeks, maybe months. I need more of a notice than that. My dad’s doc told us he had about a year and a half left. He was close. Dad was able to take his time and leave on his own terms. He sold shit that he knew would give mom trouble. He bought shit he knew she would need. He made lists of options for when things broke or needed replaced. He gave her a list of cars to choose from. Mom needed shit like that. He was able to talk to me about death and heaven and dying. Dad wasn’t afraid Dad knew Heaven existed. He was there before. At 17, he had a motorcycle accident so severe that he was in the hospital for 9 months. NINE fucking months. Can you imagine? He was so far gone that he died on the table 3 times. He didn’t want to come back. Said he a glimpse imprinted in his heart of what heaven will be like. ANd my dad was no weirdo. Very down to earth guy but he believed fiercely about God and heaven and such. I needed that growing up after my cousin was killed. I was convinced God was fake because what God would let my cousin suffer so? FUcked me up for years. Had it not been for dad’s firm faith, I am not sure I woudl have fared as well as I did. Was a safety net if nothing else. Because if you don’t believe in God at all – you are going through life with no net. I can’t do that. I need to believe that God is still there, giving two shits about my littlelife. To even think about life without God is frightening. I need toknow there is a big guy in my corner when things get rough. He ain’t going to do much to my life, but he’ll listen if I talk, and to talk is the best therapy. Might even throw a miracle my way.

ANYFUCKINGWAY!! All that to say I hope if this lump is something serious, I have time to do what I Need to do before i kick it. And enough time to see my granddaughter born. And to see my daughter finally find someone worthy of her heart. And to spend some needed alone time with my husband. ANd to find a cure for DUchenne. And to lost this belly fat.

I’m not afraid to die. I’m afraid of not living. I got too much shit to do.

It’s time to go to bed. And I don’t wanna.

So I ain’t.

Trying to get into the holiday season but like always, money is on the mind.

His bonus was to buy Christmas. And it did, but $1000 of it went to fix my brakes, tires, and sensors. Lovely. Unexpected. Game changer. I have 3 items picked out for everyone, but I only have money for half of them. I could scale down, buy some people were done because I knew exactly what to get them. Now that I have my list complete, the money poofed again. Fucking van. Fuckfuckfucking van. So now I get to whittle away at the list the best I can the next three weeks. Dammit.

BTDT, we’ll get by. If my biggest worry in life was Christmas presents for some older kiddos…..

I found a fucking lump in my breast this morning. Was a fucking accident I found it. I check myself when I think about it. Like never. I have skipped over the last two mammograms. Not my choice, just happened that way. Like tomorrow at 8am I”m supposefd to go the doc for a …. something on my face. It’s changing colors and scabbing over and leaking BUt now the doc wants me to have mammogram at 8am. Can’t have both so I guess I’ll make sure the Girls are ok before i worry about my face. If you pray, send a quick one up that either I’m stupid and it’s not a lump or that if it is something, it’s still nothing. We need some stability for a change. And good news for once. Please.

My children are all coming home tomorrow.

Each one of the older boys decided with their wives/fianc├ęs/girlfriends that they would spend Thanksgiving with HER family and Christmas with HIS family. That was fine by us – till Thanksgiving. Starting out sort of sad just the four of us, but we started cleaning out closets and rearranging furniture and decided to put up the tree and decorate and the mood lifted. We agreed that we were just thankful to be together. Thankful that we’re going to have everyone for Christmas. Thankful that baby Emily will be here soon. Thankful we were all relatively healthy. Thankful we’ve managed to keep covid out of Ian’s life. Thankful for bonus checks that pay for Christmas for a large family. Thankful our biggest bitch yesterday was having “only” two kids at home. Some people have none. Never had any.

I just got off work. Yeah. I think they’re trying to kill me. 12 hour days get old. I’m old. Old and tired. But when I get there, I feel alive. I run for 12 hours straight. I break once for 30 minutes, and then I’m off again. But when I get home? Egads. My body reminds me that I am almost 50. eYuck.

My husband wants to rent a cabin – a large cabin or several small cabins with a central lodge. He wants to do this at Christmas next year. And every year after that until we can afford our own cabin. He wants to spend Friday night through Sunday afternoon there. Whole family. Us and my mom and my sister’s family. Everyone together. Egads. Only two nights though. We did it before in Florida. Rented a large house in Orlando for all of us. Now we want to rent a large cabin. I saw one while browsing through different sites my future daughter in law gave me for their wedding. Now I can’t remember where the fuck it was. It’d have to be close as I wouldn’t have the time off. I’d work Fri, Sat nights. Maybe I’d be on days again by then, but I would still have to slip out from 3am to 11am on Saturday – which would be “Christmas morning”. Fri night everyone would get there and it would be Christmas eve. Decorate a tree and play games. We love pictionary and that nasty one with the black box. Hilarious. I always win. Cause I’m nasty.

Anyfucking way. We would wake up Saturday morning and open presents. Only I won’t be there. Sad face. Totally. So, they told they would have a pancake breakfast and make the kids wait until I got there about noon. THen SUnday we would have brunch and everyone would go home. I think it sounds great. Now to find somewhere that won’t cost me a retirement.

Gawd I should be in bed. Just hate to say goodbye to the day. I’m still sitting here enjoying my Saturday evening after work, and you sleeping peeps are almost 4 hours in to your next day. I’lll wake up around 9am, and that suits me fine. I have never slept this late in my life. But i Just gogogogo. I can’t think that way. And I hate thinking.

Just sitting here with my cat.

I’d take a pic of my baby boy, but phone’s in the other room and I ain’t walking that far. Not like I live in a mansion and our room is in the west wing, but I’m fucking lazy like that. I walk close to 30k steps every fucking day. I love it. I gotta move. But — BUT — when I’m tired, I just want to sit in the quiet with my ice cream and my double down, and refuckinglax.

I have a dead lady on my laptop. I Haven’t moved it becaust lady bugs are lucky to me, and if I throw his out side, perhaps my luck will get chucked too. So, he stays. Along with the wall hanging my sister made me 30 years ago that used to say God Bless Our Home. It now says Our Bless Home. It stays. DON’t fucking touch it. God already fell off and we couldn’t find it. That’s when I should have just known shit was never gonna be easy.

SPeaking of God. I am speaking to God again. For those that care. Like i said, I am getting rid of the baggage I have carried around for so long. That means forgiving God as well because deep down I know , or at least I believe, that God does not steer our vessels. Sometimes I feel he intervenes if the results won’t have an impact on more important things later. Things that need to happen for some reason or another. But I also believe that miracles are real. Perhaps whatever had to happen wasn’t in the cards, maybe God steps in to make sure it gets done. Like maybe the fact that there should have been AT LEAST 50,000 deaths had the Towers been full. Or had it happened an hour or two later. Any lost life is tragic, but to think about what could have been happened – maybe should have happened – but didn’t for some reason. Maybe God was that reason. I don’t know. I know that there have been instances where I know Someone has had a hand in my life. I also know — no, I am told and am trying to believe that God was even there on the days He could do nothing at all. It’s the hand tied thing that bothers me. Sometimes. I try to bigger picture it. It’s hard when you talk about my son specifically. There is nothing but what I have here and now. I could give two shits about the bigger picture where he’s concerned. But that’s just me. I’m a hateful bitch .

Maybe God isn’t supposed to intervene. Nah, I don’t buy that. Who would God answer to? His mom? He’s God. So maybe it’s not all free will. Maybe there’s some destiny in there. Some path. Some laid out plan that we should adhere to in order to have a full life and to perpetuate the planet in some way. And we just go off willy nilly and do what ever the fuck we want. We’re like the wild ants a dad uses in the ant farm and then watched in horror as they battled and destroyed each other through the glass. God is watching in horror through the glass. Maybe saving what He can.

I should be in bed. Yeah, I should. I’m jawjawing about nothing anyhow.

Shower was as I hoped it would be. Thank God.

I have some pictures. I got my elephant, and we got his trunk in the air. This fucking shit isn’t letting me upload my pictures. I’ll try again later.

I swear to Jesus that I hear myself saying shit or see myself doing shit that is very unlike me. I’ve begun shedding everything that drags me down. Life drags us down enough without extra bullshit baggage on top of it. Friends that don’t realize their buttons dial out too, but get pissed at you when it’s been months since you spoke. And then after 25+ years of friendship, they erase themselves from your life because they’re not strong enough to handle your son’s declining health. Fuck that. I’d rather sit here alone.

I stopped watching TV and Movies a long time ago because I can make MY life just as exciting as that shit. I don’t need to worry about pretend people – because I will. Worry. I’ll fret over some make believe garbage because that’s just the idiot I am. So, I don’t watch anymore. Nothing. If I’m really really bored, I will watch some TV with Jason. But that happens maybe once every so many months. And it’s usually some news or Naked and Afraid or Deadliest Catch or maybe that one where they run across the obstacles? I laugh my fucking ass off at that one, but I can’t work the tv/cable when I’m alone, so I can’t watch shit anyway.

Wait, I lie. I do watch football now though. Not every game, but ones that interest me. Very exciting and a no fucking brainer. You do not need to think when you watch football. I love that. THAT’S what I have surrounded myself with. Things I don’t have to worry about. And it feels amazing, I must admit.

I also can’t sit still long enough to watch anything, so there’s that. They [docs] think it’s tremors caused by a medication I take. My doc think it’s just adhd. I pace because it’s so bad. I fucking vibrate on the inside. Pacing or hard work helps get rid of the constant need to move. If I sit too long, I swear the vibration will reach allllllllllmost the level of pain. It’s like being so uncomfortable that it hurts. It’s all I can think about when I sit. Work is great because I can move. That’s all I do. Home? Egads. My husband would never leave the couch if there was a shawshank redemption channel. TV on 24/7 when I am not around. No thanks.

Besides, we only get so many life minutes on this Earth, and no one but God knows how many you have left. When I told that my son had Duchenne 10 years ago, something changed. Clicked. Turned on. Maybe something was turned off? Who knows. But I’m not the same. I’m older, and I hope to God I’m wiser. But I’m also kinder. I do not say anything that might make a person feel anxiety or shame or guilt or embarrassment or anger or anything negative. I will not be somebody’s breaking point. It doesn’t matter what you have to say to a person – did you get that part? It Doesn’t Matter What You Have to Say — it can done two ways. You can tear somebody down, or help build them up. Shitty worker? Find a good quality and shine on it a time or two, and let them know you noticed their hard work. They’ll start to do more to get more praise. You can easily turn someone into a good employee – but only if they see themselves as the change makers. Or, you can tell them gently that you noticed they were having trouble getting the baseboards clean, did you want some help next time so I can show you how I do it?

It’s not that hard. It works every time I’ve done it. And I was a manager for ten years. Or, I could reprimand them and basically tell them they suck at cleaning and see how much that improves their work. Ten fold, I bet.

Where the fuck was I? Oh yeah. So be nice. You do not know what kind of shit sandwich life is trying to shove down the throat of the person standing next to you. Might be nastier than yours.

I tell people I love them. We hug good bye every time. No one ever knows for sure how long they have on this planet. Jason and I are getting older. We’re now in that bracket where no one even raises an eyebrow if you were to stroke out of this life. Yep, totally within reason given their age. That’s fucking scary. Sort of. I can start to see how you might be ready to exit stage left after spending 100 or so years here on Earth. You get tired. And I’m tired of being tired. And I ain’t talking about being sleepy. I’m heavy, and I know why, but knowing that I’m just depressed about Ian solves nothing. He’s still sick. It will never be as good as it is today, because he gets worse every day. How’s that for ya? Every fucking day from here on out will be shit because you will spend it weeping for your son. One way or the other.

Eat that sammich.

Geebus. Settle down.

Damn, it’s 2am. I have dirt streaks on my arms and dirt in my hair. Think Jason would be pissed if I just laid down? We’re about to find out. ..

I think I’m done messing with it ….

http://www.moodygigi.com/

It ain’t all that, and I’m not altogether sure where I’m going with it or who will know about it and if I’m going to censor my mouth.

But there it is. Will this site die? I don’t know. It’s been dying for years. I love it here and i hope to find a balance soon where I can write again. I miss it. ANd I hope that moodygigi is a release for those emotions and feelings associated with the baby and family in general. I want this blog to be me. I hope I can have my cake and eat it too.

http://www.moodygigi.com/