It's in the bag

So, I can't remember where I saw this...But there were a few blogs out there purging the contents of their purses/bags and I felt like I needed a good purge myself.

So here goes.

That's my bag baby.



It's what I use for a diaper bag/purse. I have 3-4 different bags that I switch through on a daily basis but they all stem from the contents of this one in particular!

These are Girl's supplies.

Pull ups (Don't remind me)/wipes/water bottle/snacks...we never leave home without these particular items for the Girl.

These are the Mom-supplies.

Sunglasses/eye drops/wallet/keys/phone/pens (notice nothing to write on)

Next in line of importance is the toys.
We have Littlest Pet Shop Pets on hand at all times/a stuffed, quacking duck/slinky/playing cards/coloring pad and crayons. You never know when you need distractions while you are in traffic or out to eat.

Then, you have Mom's toys.
The stuff that keeps HER sane.
The iPod, always updated and charged. Socks for gym class and meditation stones that help keep the positive vibes flowing. I need all the help I can get.

The wallet.
Which carries NO cash.
But lots of plastic.
And gift/shopping cards.
(I don't even go to Stop and Shop...since the aphid incident, and when was the last time I stepped foot in a Blockbuster???)

Must. Stay. Hydrated.
Gasp.

How do I find anything in this thing?


OH! Yeah...and....

There's a body-bag waitin' for this.

This photo was shot right after I discovered he ate the ENTIRE insides of a couch cushion...He always looks guilty when he's done something wrong. At least he has the decency to UNZIP the cusion before he chows down...oh, and the poop...not fun. Must be hard to squeeze out gigantic chunks of couch from your quarter sized butthole.

Stuff

When your head is buzzing and you are feeling lightheaded, you go to the doctor right? I think I may be sick, or I think I could be stressed. Which is why I haven't seen a doctor yet.

My jaw has been clenched since about Wednesday. Every time I loosen it up it clicks and my head gets a rush of blood. The headache is constant. Then I begin clenching again.

My stomach is in knots.

The dreams have been terrible lately. Dreams of loss and death and sexual abuse and murder and falling and the paranormal all swarming my nightly slumber.

Mista says I bring this on myself. Like I'm waiting for this feeling to return. But he's wrong. I have been over analyzing crap and that usually calms me down. I have been mentally preparing myself for this time of year and I thought that was working. I thought this time would be different. I was armed with an awareness like never before and more knowledge of myself and my feelings. I was wrong.

Then. A came over yesterday for a wonderful visit. But. She started talking about when Mom was in the hospital and I felt the nausea hit and the tears well up inside my eyeballs and I had to stop eating because I thought I was going to vomit all over the kitchen table.

That's it.

I can't stop thinking about it. It is my every other thought throughout the day and I am nauseous because of it.

They say time heals all wounds. That's bullshit. Time only makes you able to live with those gaping wounds and survive every anniversary. The rest of that passing time, you are in a slight fog. Pretending to be normal. Even after you have a kid. You pretend to be normal. Then the anniversaries creep up again. And all that time that has passed means nothing.

Because it's like you just lost her all over again.

And when you are around women with their mothers for special occasions like bridal showers and weddings you pretend it's all good. But you are hurting so deeply inside because you wish you had your mother during those special times. And you didn't.

But the time that has passed should have helped you heal. It didn't.
It only makes you better able to pretend it's all good. The passing of time only enables you to make believe. Where as before, you would have just bawled your brain out and maybe not even shown up for the special occasion involving moms and daughters.

That's what time does for you. It doesn't heal. It temporarily bandages.

Where is Art?

The dog was in the yard. Happily playing with his chew toy. I heard him barking sporadically at passers by while they laughed at his funny face.

The phone rang and I answered it. I was expecting this call. It was Girl's doctor and I needed to speak with him urgently. We talked for a good 20 minutes while Girl watched The Upside Down Show. I hung up with my new found information and started tidying up the house.

I cleaned the floors because it was raining outside and I vacuumed the rug because we were having a play date. They were due over at noon.

Then, the phone rang again.

"Where's your dog?" The question was asked by a husky, unfamiliar voice. I ran to the side door and called for Art. No answer. No sight of Art anywhere.

I closed the door and peeked out the side windows. Girl started getting nervous and so was I. This was a creepy voice.

"Who is this?" I asked warily.

"I have your dog." Said the voice on the other end of the line.

"Who is this?" I asked again impatiently.

"I want $2,500 in cash or I keep your dog. Place it in a plastic Target bag on the corner of the block. Don't call the police, you won't catch me. Don't try to watch me pick up the cash, it won't be me...Someone will be waiting"

The phone clicked. Dial tone.

I ignored him. It had to be an April Fools joke.

I called again for Art to no avail. He was nowhere to be found. I searched some more through the neighborhood. Nothing.

The phone rang about an hour later.

I picked it up.

It was the same voice on the other end...I heard a dog barking in the background.

"Where's my money?" He asked angrily.

"You can keep him!" I yelled as I hung up the phone.

A smile crept across my face as the thoughts of a clean home and no dog piss on my floor entered my brain.

Then, I woke up. It was a fantastic dream while it lasted.

Damnit.

I Got Nuthin'

**Alternate Title: Mondays Suck!**

All weekend, I thought about blogging. Just didn't feel like it. I'm in a bad mood. I hate everybody and I wanna stay in bed. Damn PMS.

Poor BD hasta live with me and even Fa is looking at me funny. Yesterday, after I walked Shithead and he had diarrhea all over the street....I get back to the house and Fa says to me, "Mommy, be happy."

It's so obvious that even my 'closer to three year old' is noticing.

Well, she better get used to the fact that life isn't always a bowl of cherries covered in chocolate. I hate it though, when she sees me this way. It makes me even more sad.

I'm in such a bad mood...Coffee doesn't even help. I couldn't even drink it yesterday. It pissed me off that it was so hot and I was addicted to it. So I got mad and threw it out. Now I have a crankin' headache. Pissed? Uh, Yup.
________________________________
Updated to add: 9:30am I had 2 cupsa' coffee...Still nuthin'
I thought of another alternative title for this entry: Bite Me...In honor of Marijuana Muffins!!! I wish I had one to bite! hee hee