Mommyhood vs. He who shall not be named

I suppose it's about time I bring you a blog about my marriage.  It really helps explain yet another facet of my sarcasm and cynicism.

He who shall not be named was not a manly husband.  Husbands are suppose to keep on top of home maintenance, car maintenance, etc.  Let me be frank.  My entire marriage consisted of me being not so much a wife but a mommy he slept with.  I took care of all the cars, home, etc.  I remember when he who shall not be named was unemployed.  I said to him " hey, since you're not working, do you think you could help me out by loading the dishwasher?"  And his response was the ridiculous "no. You only love me for what I can do for you, not for who I am."

Well. At that point he wasn't completely wring.  Who is gonna love a lazy sack of crap?

Anyway.  During the marriage, we had more than one time when his wallet got left at home, when he forgot to pay his registration, etc.  Adhering to adult responsibilities was simply not something, and still is not something, he is capable of doing,  One particular time, he dropped me off at work and left his wallet for some reason in the roof of his car.  Within about an hour his name was broadcast all over the call center for which I was working and I went and reclaimed said wallet.

Our divorce has taken forever.  We made it to the mediation phase and the big hang up was our parenting plan. You see, he who shall not be named does not feel he should pay child support so he has been fighting the process for almost a year.  What do you think happened after court clinic? He who shall not be named locked his keys in his car.  Not a lost wallet I grant you but still.

I helped him.

God is very merciful.  He gently reminds you why things are as they are.  In my case, I am now with a man who doesn't lose his wallet and is happy to help out around the house because he loves me.

When my children were born my mother expressed concern that he who shall not be named might actually lose them.

I told Captain Handsome that he who shall not be named (or capitalized) locked his keys in his car at court and I thought he would have a mini stroke laughing.  Then he kindly says "you know baby, some people are just absent minded like that."  My sweet pilot.

Thank you God for small favors.

Mommyhood vs. the traveling pilot

Captain Handsome has been gone this week.  Tomorrow is 8 days and I am beginning to jones.

Things I miss due to having a boyfriend pilot (he's gone a lot!)

1. Good food.  When Captain Handsome is home, we eat well.  When he is gone, I make sandwiches.

2. Random suitcases.  Living with a pilot means an ever packed suitcase ready to go out the door.

3. Blog material.  Lets be honest.  Captain Handsome is a never ending supply if hilarity and I, quite frankly, couldn't even try to come up with some of the shit he says and does.

4.  It's quiet.  And I mean, really quiet.  CH never stops moving and fiddling about which gamer boy, scooter girl, the Barkfart, and myself, do not do.  We hit the couch like potatoes after a long day and CH just keeps on going.

5. Pilot time. 'Nuff said.

6. Toiletries.  When he is gone, the bathroom is empty and it doesn't have that sweet Captain Handsome shower gel smell that you cannot duplicate.

Things you must master due to having a boyfriend pilot

1. Patience.  Pilots are a very different but amazing breed.

2. Flexibility.  Captain Handsome's schedule changes on a dime.  Romantic date? Important celebration? He will get a call and you will be celebrating alone.

3. TRUST.  You have to know your partner is totally faithful and rely on them to maintain contact. Tonight I got a phone message from CH, who I thought was in one city, but turns out, he was in another, and loved and missed us.

4. Time zones. Zomg.

I could go on but you get the gist.

Mommy hood vs. Captain Handsome

Captain Handsome is a very good pilot.  That being said, my darling love is still a pilot.  They are like little engineers in the sky.  They are very type A and painfully organized with regards to flying.  Most pilots are devilishly sexy.  I know mine is...in addition to being incomprehensibly smart.  There doesn't seem to be anything my pilot can't do.

Except exist in the same time continuum in which myself and the kids exist.

Don't get me wrong.  My love for Captain Handsome far outweighs any weirdness but there is one unique caveat to this.

I call it Pilot Time.

Because my beloved is always on call, he exists by no clock.  When he is tired he sleeps. When he is hungry he eats.  There are no actual clocks or schedules on pilot time.  The 8-5 world simply does not exist.

We cope pretty well despite our schedule differences but CH many times isn't ready to eat at 5pm because he has just woken up!

I know other pilot partners go through this same thing.  The crazy schedule, the perpetually packed overnight bag always ready for a call....it's comforting to know there is a non 8-5 subculture that quietly exists with me.

Fly safe, baby.  Remember to wear your watch.

Mommyhood vs. the asthma attack

Fair readers...I've been absent from 

You a few days.

You see, Mommyhood has a special set of ailments. Arthritis, t2 diabetes, and this year the cream on top of my autoimmune Sunday? Asthma.

I always expected to get arthritis. Genetics determined that one so when it happened I was  mentally prepared to deal with it.  Two gestational diabetic pregnancies from gamer boy and scooter girl sealed my diabetic fate. Imagine three shots of fast acting insulin and one slow acting at bedtime for six months.  That's four shots a day for you higher math junkies. Never question why I am such a cynic folks.  Without this humor I would simply die.

Fast forward to 2013.  In mid 2012, he who shall not be named was caught by Mommyhood texting his home wrecker....what to call her? She is almost not deserving of a nickname.  I caught these texts and researched. He who shall not be named was sending over 7000 text messages per month to the home wrecker and not even answering mine. The point I am trying to make here is that my asthmatic status and onset directly coincide with he who shall not be named leaving the picture and becoming the thorn in my proverbial lung. Asthmatic humor. Gotta love it.

I admit the stress was overwhelming and I started smoking again in late February 2013.  I wasn't smoking a ton but for my already exhausted and stressed body it was definitely not what I needed but it seemed to take the edge off so I was all for it.

I met Captain Handsome by fluke a month after he who shall not be named bailed. Now make no mistake. I tried to get he who shall not be named to come home eight times and one more before my relationship with CH was sealed.  Every time he told me no.  Every time he told me I had to change my materialistic ways.  He who shall not be named caused me severe stress I blew off...but obviously it was inside, festering.

Captain Handsome was by my side immediately and knew I was very broken.  He was with me nearly nightly though retained his own residence until about six months later when he moved in.  He has told me he knew he was in love with me within about two weeks. He was flying in Peru for about five days and I thought I would die missing him. He came home and we exchanged I love yous and he has been my devoted love ever since.

And devoted he must've been because within a few weeks of being together I had my first full blown asthma attack.

It was like 2am and CH was sleeping quietly next to me. I woke up choking and very disoriented. Captain was on it fast- running for my albuterol and helping me take a few puffs.  I slept fine that night.

The second attack I had I awoke about the same time in the morning. I was nearly unconscious and severly oxygen depleted. My limbs burned and my chest was closed.  I remember struggling to reach over to alert my pilot and when I did he literally had to force the albuterol into me.  It was unrelentingly painful being that oxygen starved and had he not been there I literally might've died.

The third attack I had involved symptoms from the first two attacks. I became cognizant that I was in the bathroom though I have no memory of going there. Captain was again on me like flint and got me breathing.

After spring allergy season it seemed to abate. Emergency albuterol was only used sporadically.

Fast forward then to now. November. My stressors are high. He who shall not be named has deadbeat status and has paid nothing toward the support of the kids for 11 months.  Court clinic is looming. Captain handsome has gone to fly the Vegas hub for a week....add into it my store is coming up on Black Friday, I'm almost out of pto...times are tight....

And kaflooey.  330 am on 11-14 I start to feel tight. My breathing is shallow and erratic. Captain handsome and gamer boy have both had head colds and coughs and so I figured that's what was up with me. I was pissed but didn't feel entirely sick. It was strange.  I labored all day, unable to sleep or rest due to the lack of deep breaths and finally around six pm I said to my children "get your shoes on, now. Mommy needs a doctor."

We were in the car within moments and on our way to urgent care. I texted Captain Handsome and told him I'd gone to urgent care and was having breathing problems. "Where? Location?" He texted back. And within about 30 minutes he was by my side.

My oxygen level was 81. 3 nebulizer treatments later and with oxygen not improving, I was loaded embarrassingly into an ambulance and taken to the ER.  I was on oxygen and two more nebulizer treatments and by now I was shaking out of my skin because as many of you know, albuterol gives quite the buzz. They gave me adivan to bring my happy, wheezing ass, back down.  My family arrived for moral support and Captain Handsome never left my side.

Five hours later I was released.

This experience was horrible and I now have an at home nebulizer. My breathing continues to be terribly strained.

Moral of this blog? Stress can eat you alive, even when you don't think it is.  Find some positive outlets or just do yourself this one big favor.  Make sure your betrothed isn't a scum sucking soul eater BEFORE you marry them.  The repercussions from the stress of escaping your prison are serious and can be life threatening. This whole year I've felt relatively strong.  According to my body, holding onto the fallacy of that strength is causing bronchial stress.  

Be honest and be with your pain. I no longer have a choice.

And yes, for inquiring minds, I have escaped my prison.  

Captain Handsome vs. the Well Chewed Bubble Gum

Never a shortage of blog worthy events in the life of Mommyhood.

Captain Handsome noticed today that I had a brake light out.  Now in my marriage, he would shall not be named never would have helped me. I am not very vehicle smart and I would have been that woman at pep boys begging for assistance.  Captain Handsome, however, is adamant that myself, Gamer Boy, and Scooter Girl, have a safe and reliable vehicle to drive.

I had an appointment and CH didn't want me driving my vehicle with a brake light out so I took his truck.  I love driving his truck. It smells deliciously like his cologne and reminds me blissfully of our first date. Annnnyway......

I got home from my appointment.  Not only had my love fixed my brake light, but he changed my oil and took care of my other car fluids.  Here's the kicker. My angel vacuumed and detailed my car.  This man is my rock!

Due to Captain Handsome's diligence, however, you can imagine some humorous event had to occur.  After I cried and gushed over my vehicle, because my gentle readers, it was like the end days in there. French fries, trash,crumbs, and as I came to learn....gum.

"Can we talk about something?" Says Captain Handsome.

"Of course", I say. "What's up?"

"Gum." Says my love. 

"Gum?" I ask.

"Do Gamer Boy and Scooter Girl...do they know where to put gum after they chew it?"

I looked at him puzzled and amused.  "I would assume so."

"I found 21 pieces of chewed gum in the car." Captain Handsome says, visibly irritated.

"21?" I say, now amused.

"21." Says he. " I found it in the ashtray, stuck between the seats, in the backseat cup holders, in the carpet....." He finishes. Still visibly irritated.

"Uhm.  Do you want to talk to the kids or do you want me to?" I ask.

He immediately replies..."no, I've got this one."

My poor children.

Fast forward twenty minutes as we get home from school. Gamer boy is given a scraper and is scraping gum off the carpet, and Scooter girl is scrubbing out drink holders. Captain Handsome tells the children, "this is your moms car and she uses it to get to work and to pick you up from school. I want it to be nice for her."

Nice for me. The concept of a man loving me enough to do anything like this for me and providing my children (now also his by default) a life lesson in respect, it is just unfathomable.  At this point, I would literally jump off a cliff to make this man happy as he has done for me.

The moral of this blog, dear readers? The moral of this blog is that genetics do not a daddy make. Being a father is about boundaries, teaching moments, respect and trust.  Captain Handsome may not realize the influence and respect he has from my, now definitively our, children.  He may not realize that now, nearly a year later, he is a Daddy.  He has gone from single, freewheeling bachelor, to totally devoted family man in a years time.  His love and devotion to me has caused him to operate outside his comfort zone, to put himself in a father role with compassion and a gentle firmness that my children have absolutely accepted.

I asked Gamer Boy what he thought about Captain Handsome's daddy style and he said,

"Sometimes he really pisses me off, but I really love him."

Out of the mouths of babes.  Captain Handsome has become a parent.

Mommyhood vs. the caffeine withdrawal

Oh gentle readers.

I have learned one thing in my brief hiatus from you.

We could bring down the worlds super powers simply by withholding caffeine.

Captain Handsome accidentally bought me caffeine free diet Pepsi this week.  My free fall through withdrawal hell until I realized what I was drinking has been interesting.

Two days into this I began to experience headaches and a general disdain for life.  I know why you're thinking.  You're thinking, Mommyhood, you always have headaches and a disdain for life.  Yes, but I don't usually have a disdain for ALL life.  See?

Three days into it and I cannot keep my eyes open and have dizziness that would rock any sinus activated vertigo I have ever experienced.

So today I realize, Holy Hell, Captain Handsome, caffeine free!

Let me tell you something about my pilot.  This man does everything with me and the kids in mind, He is the most selfless and loving man and he would literally die for all of us, no joke.  When he purchased said caffeine free beverage, he did it because I have type two diabetes and he wanted it to be good for me.  This is the very same man who bought me a multivitamin (because I am severly immune compromised) handed it to me this morning and said, "here, take this, I love you."

This man is my world.

So now that I have downed an extra strength five hour energy, berry flavor, equivalent of 12 oz of coffee in caffeine content, I am seeing the humor in my caffeine addiction.  This is an addiction I do not plan to quit.

But as most blogging mamas, it got me to thinking.

Yeah, I was thinking.  What of it.

Anyway, it got me to thinking about the worlds super powers, as naturally caffeine withdrawal would. 

What it.....what if, tomorrow, there was no more caffeine.

The interwebs sight caffeine withdrawal symptoms as:

-headache

-fatigue

- dizziness

- lack of concentration

- depression

- flu like symptoms

As a side note- dizziness was my favorite, literally rendering me non functional.

Anyway, with our currently nuclear armed world, take my assumption that suddenly the world has no caffeine.

Apply above symptoms to:

Obama, Putin, Ahmadinejad, Kim Jong II.

How long before someone pushes the button?

How long before someone misplaces the cancellation codes?

How long before we reeeeaaallly fuck up as a society and get rid of term limits and reelect Obama?

This blog was meant to be funny but in actuality, our caffeine dependence is anything but.

Now pass me my damn diet Pepsi.

My drugs of choice.

Mommyhood vs. The Shoplifters

I've been a retail manager since 1993.  I have worked for some large corporations and some small corporations but one thing will always remain the same.

People.

When I say people however, I do not mean regular joe average peeps who PAY for their purchases, I mean shoplifters.

Back in the day, approaching a shoplifter was actually sort of entertaining.  There was no threat of violence, no threat of prosecution.  My various teams and I found it quite amusing and I ended up throwing more than one oversized, machismo male, out of my store.  I should also mention I have had merchandise thrown at my face and have been called every name in the book.  While managing for a large animal supplies retailer I even had a gang banger with a tear drop tattoo pick up a shopping cart and lob it at me.  Yes, the trailing of shoplifters has gotten to be less fun.

Laws protect these leeches on society you see and every retailer I've ever worked for has had rules in place to protect not only the employee but the shoplifter.  Larger retailers have in house loss prevention and these people are insured so they can tackle the ever lovin out of a thief and the ramifications are not great.

In my particular volume size however, the general rule is kill em with kindness.  Or as I like to say, get up in their shit!

The first shoplifter I ever encountered has forever remained etched in my mind and now, some 20 years later, I can still see him as clear as day.  This was a middle aged man shopping with about a four year old little boy.  To illustrate how long ago this happened I will tell you he was stuffing Disney movies in clamshell boxes into his jacket.  DVDs did not even exist.

I came around the corner to witness this man doing just as I said.  He had already stuffed like four or five clamshells in his jacket.  A clamshell, for those wondering, in the industry was an oversized plastic case for VHS with illustrative cover art.  Many of you probably still have these in your collections.  They didn't fit on the shelf with your regular VHS movies and in general just made your collection look really put of sorts.

But I digress.

So this guy is stuffing these movies into his jacket as I venture around the corner, and here is what my badass, tough as nails retail manager, clear headed, leadership in action, brain could muster:

"Hey! Put those back!"

Now I recognize in the scheme of things, a little more discretion and I could've nailed the bastard, and I further realize I could've been shot, but that wouldn't be the last time I'd be in that situation and I'm not dead so I'd say it went off rather well,

Again, digressing.

"Hey, put those back!" I say.

And do you know what he said? Can you even fathom what this scum of the earth shoplifter from the underbelly of humanity did?

He turns to the innocent, four year old little boy in his charge.  Turns to him and looks right at him and says.....wait for it.....

"Now I can't get that for you."

He says this and I am guessing puts a horrifying and unjustifiable sense of shame into this sweet, innocent four year old.  He then begrudgingly puts the movies back on the shelf and storms away with his child.

Not for nothin but that was the day I broke my own jaw as it hit the ground.

It was also notably, one of the Mommyhood defining moments of my life.  I realized that people suck. Hardcore.  And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

Here endeth the lesson.

Mommyhood vs. the Aging

I'm getting old.

I recently turned 40.

Things on the inside are changing...hair has stopped healthily growing out of my head and taken up residence on my chin.

My skin is itchy and starting to really be covered in aging spots from my beloved desert sun.

I have gray hair everywhere! Most recently, my eyebrows.  My eyebrows! Pluck them and three more appear.

I haven't had a zit in years and I've started using age defying makeup.  As a kid sunscreen didn't really exist and I am starting to count the crows feet.

All of these fun things and the one thing that makes me feel the oldest?

My revulsion of babies and pregnant women.

Today I heard a baby in my store screaming as loud as a Lord of the Rings Ringwraith.  I honestly FELT my ovaries shrivel.  My tolerance for kid related chaos is very low now that Gamer Boy and Scooter Girl are a bit older.  It's crazy to me that babies are so cute but such a exhausting nightmare.

I have never been so tired as since I had kids,  Gamer Boy came along in 2004 people!  I've been exhausted ever since.  If there is a God, his divine plan is to help us gradually along within the game of life to naturally move through phases and growing at our own rate.

This would be why small babies repulse me.  Not my own mind you,  They were perfect in everyday and even wonderful when they pooped up their own backs or puked on my favorite blouse.  It's other people's babies.  Making sounds.  Stinking. Gurgling.

This is why 40 year old women are really not suppose to have babies in my opinion.

When it comes to pregnant women I sway between feeling happy for them and sorry for them. Ahh the creation of life....but do they know they will never sleep a good and solid full night sleep again?

So here's to the hot flashes, itchy skin, and memory loss.  Here's to my hairy chin and gray haired eyebrows.

I've done my baby time and earned my badge.  Now I get to move into the grumpy old woman phase of my life with class.

Memory loss in perimenopause is a blast!

Gamer boy vs. Stumpy the Parrot

In my home we have the ever fabulous me, the captivating Captain Handsome, whom you've met, my son Gamer Boy, and my daughter Scooter Girl.  Of course, there is also Barkfart the Beagle.

But oh, I have yet to mention the other three precious, feathery souls who reside here.  My incredible parrots!

Being a parront has its challenges, though mostly for my other family members.  In the beginning, Captain Handsome was determined to be friends with Miss Sassy Pants, who is an African grey with an extremely foul mouth but a warm heart.  For me. No one else.  After several nasty bites, Captain Handsome resigned himself to the fact that Miss Sassy Pants is an intellectual and not a kitty cat, and now he simply engages her through her cage bars so as not to get tagged.  The most unfortunate skill of Miss Sassy Pants is that she can perfectly inflect the vocal sounds of he who shall not be named.  I find that desperately annoying.

Stumpy is my other African Grey.  She is a handicapped parrot with no feet who stands and maneuvers on her wrists.  Due to the nature of her disability, her greatest strength is her vocabulary which boasts at least 80 words.  With Stumpy, she still channels her former owner who had a voice like a porn star,so several times a day it sounds like a low budget Cinemax movie in the bird room.

My last parrot is a blue and gold macaw I shall refer to as LL Macaw. Laundry loving macaw, or L Mac, is obsessed with my laundry room.  She has had inappropriate relations with my dryer and enjoys destroying any feet that get in her way while she is loving on said appliance.  I will never understand L Mac....my greys are smart and inquisitive, while L Mac is a trouble maker, ever testing her limits and scaring the crap out of Barkfart, the kids, and Captain Handsome.  She is a complete terror.

On the day in question, Gamer Boy was in his room and I was in my bedroom folding the familial laundry, matching up Captain Handsome's socks, and in general just being at home.

Gamer Boy: Mooooom!

Stumpy the grey: What!?

Gamer Boy: Can you come here for a minute?

Stumpy the grey: What!?

Gamer Boy: Can you come here?

Silence.........

Gamer Boy: (still in his room) Mom! 

Stumpy the grey: What?

About this time I pick up on what has been going on and I walk across the hall laughing my ass off and say to Gamer Boy:

"You've been having a conversation with the parrot for the last five minutes."

Gamer boy, exasperated, tears around the corner into the bird room and says "Stumpy!" To which stumpy the grey bobs her head up and down and says "pffffffft."

We about died.

Life with parrots.