mydarlingcurse.com

buns has turned into a boy.

he was a baby until this morning and now he’s a boy.

it’s typical for newborns between the ages on 4-6 weeks to break-out. it’s their body changing and blah blah blah.

buns looks like he has chicken pox.

he’s red and bumpy and it’s his face and shoulders. boo never had it that bad. and i know is should get the bitch mom award for comparing my kids, but it’s true. boo has been pretty from day one. and while buns is cute, he’s not very much so right at the moment.

and, now he toots a lot (like all boys). but i’m not expecting that to change anytime soon.

poor little buns. good thing his momma loves him.

i’ve come to the conclusion that having a toddler and a newborn has the same effect on your brain as long term pot-smoking and shroom taking.

not that i ever took shrooms.

i am however convinced that i will never be interesting, smart, witty, snarky or remotely sexy again. like yeah, my stomach is flat now, but i have outrageous stretch marks. seriously, it looks like bunny was trying to claw his way out.

and i’m noticing that i cannot have a conversation, not one fucking conversation with anyone, and not mention my kids.

i stop changing channels when i see a kids show. like i’d rather watch Curious George than The Daily Show, not!

i’m best left sitting in a corner and smiling and just nodding and agreeing with people. my glassy stare isn’t boredom, trust me. the more adults i actually talk to, the better. no, that vacant look is just sleep deprivation.

i’ll probably never read another adult book again. the books i read will just progressively get more age appropriate for my kids, not me. i will however devour In Touch and People because they are pretty and easy to flip though while i’m nursing.

so from here on out, my apologies. whatever appears here will be asinine. it won’t be well thought out. it won’t make a difference at all. all it means is that the brain death hasn’t atrophied my fingers yet.

i knew the ending of Rock of Love 2 with Bret Michaels would bring utter doom.

are you kidding me Minnesota Weather? i mean, really? freezing temps, and snow in late April…..COME ON! i suppose now this means it’s going to be 90 degrees on Halloween with such a late start to the nice weather.

what doesn’t help is that we had to turn the heat up. which means i had to sleep in a tank top (i will explain the colossal sweating associated with breast feeding at a later date), which is just too much. it’s too warm in the house and it’s too cold outside for this to make any sense. i’m constantly sweating and i stink.

it means that boo will climb the walls today, because it’s too cold to take the buns outside. call me crazy, but i won’t take a newborn outside unless it’s at least fifty degrees out. grrrrr…which should be replaced by brrrrr.

for the first sunday night in three months, i will go to bed without my Rock of Love 2 with Bret Michaels fix. sad, but true.

i did however rename my iPod. i had to do a restore on it and changed its name from Sister Christian to Rock of Love.

don’t be gone too long Bret. please……

walking into the kitchen, seeing my daughter play with pens and sing a little ditty of her own, i lean down and kiss her on the cheek.

“you’re so cute” i say.
“yeah i am” boo says bored with the compliment.

i walk over to the stove and toss the perogies.

“mommy, what are you doing?”
” i’m making potatoes and pink fish (salmon)”
“oh. cool.” says she.

i pop into the living room and relay the conversation to hubbin. back in the kitchen…

“you’re a cutie pie, you know that?” i smile at my beautiful boo.
“no. i am not a cutie pie. i am a sweetie pie.”
“that’s my favorite pie” i say, totally floored at the benefits of momdom.

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clearly Bret Michaels trumps any literary ambition.

it’s not news how much i miss my Mom. she died about 16 months ago and i’m still dealing with it and coping with the loss. what makes that all worse is my Dad.

i don’t operate under the illusion that my parents had an ideal marriage. they always knew something was wrong and for whatever reason, just stuck it out. the events of this weekend were devastating if not well timed. a break-down (pardon the pun)…

Friday

on friday, i took the bebe’s over to my Dad’s. he and annie oakley were heading up to the cabin for a week, so i thought i’d force my adorable children on them. things went great until ten minutes before we leave. now, after a glass of wine annie oakley gets a little loose. and this can be fun and charming, or it can change my life forever. ten minutes before we leave she says “your dad and i have discussing living together” then my dad says “yeah, and if i die, annie would get to live in the house for three years before its sold and then once its sold, the proceeds go to the Foundation” (my parents started a charitable foundation ten years ago - it’s my dad’s vanity project really).

what the fuck?

are you kidding me?

really?

i mean really?

that house is a much of my mother’s now than it ever was. and to have him, just decree that it will be sold and the proceeds given to the foundation, well that makes my blood boil so hot that i’m seeing red. and i’m not being a mercenary here. i don’t care if he sells the house, i don’t care if i get dime one from it, or from him. but i absolutely cannot….i don’t know. it was the LAST thing my mom wanted. the LAST thing she wants done to ANY of her things or the things they owned jointly was to have it go to the fucking Foundation.

she is spinning in her grave right now and i’m just feeling cosmic static all over the place.

the shitty thing is, is that, my Dad doesn’t give a fuck about what i think or feel about all of this. my opinion or my mom’s wishes, he could care less. and THAT my darlings is what is going to cause me to further distance myself from my Dad.

but here is now what i have to do. i have to look at my Mom’s will again and that just confirms the fact that she’s dead and gone. i have to get advice from a lawyer, i have to address this with my Dad and stick to my guns. i have to come to grips with the fact that, regardless of wether or not my parents loved each other, my Dad has no respect for my Mom. or me.

no, not simon cowell from american idol, although he is up there on my brit’s i’d do list, right behind jason statham (who is like british jack bauer)

no, no, no, no…..i am simon delivers’ number one fan. why? because they have my favorite kind of wine and they deliver it right to your frickin door!

nothing says i’m a shut-in, like having booze delivered.

i am saving a bottle for this sunday though. JCSG and i going to get together, podcast, and watch probably the best moment of Rock of Love with Bret Michaels - heather kicking daisy’s ass.

I CANNOT WAIT!

i’m peeing a little just thinking about it!

so as i was watching Dude Weather yesterday i thought, you know Dutch should throw it over to someone. like, “” Here’s Jodie with Dude Sports” - and all i say is “The Twins lost, but the Wild won! Whoo-Hoo!” and that’s it. of course Dutch probably has someone else he’d want for that gig, but when the idea came to me, i totally pictured myself doing it.

here is something else i was thinking about. there seem to be an unholy number of relatively famous minnesotans named Paul.

- paul douglas
- paul majors
- paul bunyan
- paul westerberg
- paul wellstone
- paul thomas

if you can think of more, let me know.

I have a new show for VH1 - something like Foxy Boxing for female reality stars.

is it just me or is Bret laughing his ass off? i know i sure am!