Having babies is detrimental to your private parts. Just thought you should know that.
This message was brought to you today by the letters V and J.
And by the number 18,000.
I will give you all a more detailed, yet tasteful, report on Monday. For now, I have far too much laundry to do to be sitting here.
I am in the market for some upgrades.
-I am finally ready to get the new boobs I have had my eyes on for a few years now.
-I want to get my butt lifted back up to where it belongs.
-I want my crotch cinched up a bit so you can't tell where Shaylee grabbed the inside of my vagina and hung on while she entered the world.
-a tummy tuck would be fabulous.
-I am also looking at the brazilian butt augmentation in the process. They will suck the fat out of the rolls on my belly and stick the fat in my fanny. …two birds with one stone in my opinion. No more fat rolls and little junk in the trunk making my entire body more pleasing to the eye.
Sounds good right?
Here are my issues-
I am a wuss when it comes to surgery. I hate going under the knife, I am always sure I will never wake up, I always puke my guts out when I do, and finally, the guilt of having to be taken care of…. SUCKS!
Pain pills and Sandi DO NOT MIX! For as long as I can remember I have had "ALLERGIC TO DEMEROL" stamped on top of all my medical charts. When I was a young one, I had major surgery to correct an inward rotation of my legs. (pigeon toed, but the entire leg.) When I was in the hospital, they were pumping me so full of demerol that I took a MAJOR TRIP and still have VIVID memories of that week.
There was a camel in my hospital room.
My brothers were in the glass IV bottle. They would knock and wave and float around in the saline on air mattresses. They were having much more fun than I.
I was 100% positive I was Mary, from the nursery rhyme "Mary Had A Little Lamb." I didn't have a lamb in the room, I had a camel, but I was laying on a lambskin pad to prevent bedsores. That could make sense.
Flash forward to 2005 when I got breast implants. The pain pills I was popping had the exact same effect as the demerol. My ironing board came to life. It was like something you would see in Beauty and the Beast. My closet door had to be shut the entire day or the ironing board would walk out and talk to me. I had a pet goldfish. (her name happened to be Dorothy. She was visiting from Elmo's World.) I saw spiders, most of them talked. I couldn't remember my kids' names. I thought Shaylee was my sister. I thought I owned a beauty supply store…. I was a head case. My older children loved every minute of it and would come in to sit with me in hopes of hearing or seeing something off the wall. Sadly, they were rarely disappointed, and to this day, they love to talk about the time that mom got new boobs….
Side note to this post- Hunter has the exact same problem and without spilling all his private stuff on the internet, he was hallucinating like a crazy person after one Tylenol Codine. FRIGHTENING!
If I can toughen up and stop being such a pansy, there are indeed some pros to this cosmetic surgery.
For example-
I had this awful vein in my leg for 14 years. Last July, I finally felt brave enough to get it fixed. EVERYDAY I wonder why in the hell I waited so long to fix that ugly thing. I dealt with YEARS of self consciousness at the beach. I never wore cute skirts or shorts because who wants to look at purple bulging vein? I hated that thing! I wish I had been brave enough to do something about it years ago because at thirty eight, do I have any business wearing cute mini skirts? Yeah, I didn't think so.
You have heard me say similar things about my teeth. I love my smile now, I don't cringe at every picture I see of myself anymore. I am happy to give a cheesy grin whenever you want me to. I should have fixed my teeth at 25.
The other thing I have always hated and been so self conscious about is my skin. If I could have asked for anything, it would have been a clear complexion. I tried everything under the sun, both prescription and over the counter, my entire life and NOTHING WORKED. I used to fantasize about a skin transplant. I figured in the end if you are blessed with a "skinny gene" and a high metabolism, God has to curse you with something else, and for me, it was ZITS and the LOVE to pick them. I think my skin may have looked tons better if I could have just left it the hell alone, but picking was a part of my day. I'd wash my face and plant my butt in front of a 5X magnifiying mirror and proceed to pick anything and everything I could see until I would bleed. That was my routine. But not anymore!!
For thirteen weeks I have been taking Accutane. This is much like the vein in my leg…. WHY IN THE HELL DIDN'T I DO THIS 20 YEARS AGO??? WHY? My skin is now lovely. I haven't had a ZIT to pick for 10 weeks. I wash my face and go to bed. I don't have to touch up every picture that is on the camera. I don't have to cover up with makeup. I don't even have to wear makeup if I don't want to. A little sunscreen is all. I am over the moon with the results! Why did I waste so many years of my life looking like a monster when I could have done this years ago and been happy with my skin?
I think that is where I am right now. Wondering why I didn't do this stuff sooner and since I still have things that I am not happy about, I want to fix them. The things that I have fixed in the past have turned out better than I expected. So I want to fix everything. My initial list is long and extravagant and expensive and if it didn't require multiple BIG SCARY SCARS, and wasn't soooo invasive, and came for free, I might consider doing everything.
The butt stuff, I think I can accomplish with a little exercise. That same exercise might diminish the fat rolls hanging over my waist band. Wish me luck. You all know how good I am at working out.
BUT my privates, all of them, do need help. And no amount of squeezing, tightening, running, or relaxing can do a damn thing about any of them.
Tomorrow I am visiting this office for a crotch consult. The very second I have disposable income, I am going to have my girly bits returned back to a pre-vaginal-delivery state. The moment I heel from that little procedure, I am going to move up to my chest because I HAVE to get rid of these bags of water under my skin. I am thanking the good Lord above for the invention of silicone. I can't wait to have squishy boobs instead of crinkly ones.
I will keep you all posted as I try and age gracefully.
PS- I just had Brandon read through this post and asked, "will people flip their lids at this?"
To which he replied, "Oh yeah."
According to Brandon, my critics are going to flip for one of the following reasons. 1) I am setting a bad example for my children. 2) They will be jealous. 3) any person that doesn't agree with cosmetic surgery will have a problem with this entire post. and finally 4) I attract my share of crazy readers that always look at the most negative side of anything I write and jump my shit whenever they can.
I am geared up and ready.
I'm sure one of you may even decide that I am doing this entirely for the hallucinogenics… I'll be honest, after the last few weeks, I won't argue too harshly with you. I am ready for a trip…. and how nice will it be to wake up with a brand new vagina? YAY ME!
Wasn't I a bad ass? *sarcasm*
This was one year after I had fallen off the back with NO helmet and suffered a fractured skull and concussion. I may be able to blame all my issues, problems, and short comings on this three-wheeler.
Thanks Dad.
There is a deeply ingrained thing in me. It's DEEP and it's not going away. I am not frugal. I am not thrifty. And I am sure as hell not cheap.
This realization occurred today in Mcdonald's drive-thru. We had to go to Mcdonalds today to get an ice cream cone for Parker, because for 53 minutes, he had on a shirt and shorts. This feat deserved an ice cream.
Anyway-
Brandon orders a sausage McMuffin without the sausage. So I go, isn't a sausage McMuffin without the sausage just an egg McMuffin? We look at the menu and figure out that an egg McMuffin has ham, so he could in fact order an egg McMuffin without the ham, but it costs ten cents more than the sausage one. He has been ordering his breakfast this way for years because it's cheaper.
I called him a cheap bastard. I said it with love.
This isn't the first time I have called him that. He is a deal shopper. He will buy things he doesn't need because they are ON SALE. His Ex is the coupon queen of Utah. She has her own segment on the news and everything. If that right there doesn't make us polar opposites I don't know what does. Not the being on the news part, the coupon part. I think she may have rubbed off on him… but that sentence is so disturbing it makes me want to vomit.
ANYWAY…. back to my story….
Brandon is a cheap bastard.
I am mortified if I have coupons. I feel like I have a note from the newspaper saying, "This woman can't afford full price so she'll need you to take a little money off the total." When Brandon calls to order Pizza he goes, "any deals today?" and I want to die! When we buy something expensive like all the furniture in our house and we hear the total, he always makes a comment like, "you better deliver it for that price." Or "Are you throwing in a TV with that?" And I want to die.
My blackberry is TRASHED. I want to go to the verizon store and buy a new one. Brandon insists its cheaper to buy online. I could go on and on and on with money stories. They are long and there are many and they happen daily. We love each other in spite them.
We have come a long way working through our money differences, but the McMuffin saga brought it front and center.
I wondered for a moment where I had developed this strong opinion about getting a deal….
I remember being eleven or twelve in the mini-van with my three younger brothers and both parents. We were sitting in the drive-thru at Arby's. My mom was telling my dad what to order. At the end of the instructions to my dad, she said, and you have to say, "I'm burned out on burgers" so we get a free roast-beef. To which my dad replied HELL NO. I will pay for the roast beef before I ever say something so stupid. All of us kids, being the fools that we are, jumped on my mom's bandwagon. If for no other reason than to hear dad say, " I AM BURNED OUT ON BURGERS."
"Come on dad," we chanted… and the more we insisted, the more irritated he became.
Mom continued to harp on him and we continued to beg and when we finally pulled up to the speaker, against his better judgement, Dad said, "I am burned out on burgers." The voice in the speaker said, " I am sorry sir, we are no longer doing that promotion."
My dad has a vein in his forehead, I have watched it my whole life to see how much trouble I am in, because when he is mad, you can see it pulse. Not a pretty sight. Well, Dad's vein was bulging in that drive-thru. It looked like he had a vienna sausage on his forehead.
Dad was mortified.
Embarrassed, pissed off, and fuming mad he drove us home. It was a very silent ride home with our curly fries.
My mom was a deal shopper and coupon clipper. She is SMART with her money. My dad is a money maker and a money spender. In my opinion just as smart. He works to earn it, so he can spend it.
While my mom will have money in the bank when she dies, I think my dad will have more memories. I am clearly my father's daughter.
I shared the "burned out on burgers" story with Brandon yesterday on the way home from McDonalds. He laughed so hard he damn near ran off the road. In fact, he laughed all day long about it. Last night he couldn't contain himself any longer. He phoned my dad and asked him if he would mind stopping on the way home from work at Arby's. He said something along the lines of, because we have so many kids to feed, I need you to get the best deal you can. They have a promotion right now, all you have to say is I AM BURNED OUT ON BURGERS.
And with his stern dad voice, my dad said, "VERY FUNNY BRANDON!" I know his vein was growing just thinking about it!
Laying in bed the other morning Brandon is rubbing on me and dragging his feet to get up for the day. In an attempt to stall he says, "I love your body. It's so sexy."
"Baby, you love my body and think it's sexy because this is the body you get sex from."
SILENCE
and I snuck out of bed while he was contemplating my deep philosophical brilliance.
Nothing else has been said about it. Honestly, I don't know if he even gave my words a second thought, but I have been second thoughting them for a few days. When thoughts start taking up too much space in my very cluttered brain, the only thing I can do to get rid of them is to write them out.
So lets talk about this. I think I want your take on my thoughts, but first let me give you a few more things to think about.
When I met Brandon, I fell head over heels in love with him. He was a complete and total stranger in more ways than one. HE WAS NOT MY TYPE! I had never been with a guy that wore a tie and worked in an office. I was mystified on more than one occasion at how on earth this happened and where this strange attraction came from.
I was married, for fifteen years, to a guy who could have been my brother, meaning he did the same things that my brothers did all my life. Being with him was comfortable right off the bat. He was my type. He was the only version of "male" that I knew. He was a guys guy. He smelled of exhaust and dirt. He worked construction. He played with snowmobiles and ATV's. He didn't own a pair of dress shoes. He didn't know how to turn on a computer. He was at home in the garage. He was the kind of man I grew up with my entire childhood and the man I spent 15 years married to.
He was my familiar and the type of man I would say I "was" attracted to.
Going from that to the polar opposite is hard to understand.
I went from being attracted to construction workers to being attracted to clean-cut well-mannered men.
Brandon on the side of the road in dockers and loafers…. It was love at first sight. I have never been able to explain it. I couldn't then, I can't now. We both just say that it was meant to be and it was, and still is, bigger than we are. But a funny thing happened after being with Brandon. I started thinking about all these clean cut well mannered men that I had never thought about before. People I would have never even pictured as the opposite sex were occupying my brain. Not that I was having fantasies about being with them, or even wanting to be with them, I was just, for the first time, aware that men in suits and ties, had penises and most likey had sex. *SHOCKING*
So, the original thoughts I had have turned into a long rambling mess, but I think the point of my confession is this, I think you become attracted to the type of person/type of body/ type of personality, that fulfills your sexual needs. If Brandon had been a short little fat man or a huge ripped black man, I think I would find myself attracted to that. I am in love with Brandon and everything he is. That means I love his body, his mind, his heart. I love the entire package and I am attracted to the entire package. He is a geek. I call him my wireless wizard. He can't climb widowmaker on a 250cc or build a house, but he can hook me up wirelessly no matter where I am. And he can make a mean homemade mac and cheese, one that is so good it makes you moan with every bite. And his chocolate chip cookie dough, it's to die for and he can make it in under four minutes. Also, he can convert USD to Naria and metric tons to gallons and barrels in his head. He is brilliant. Best of all, he can breathe on my neck and turn me to goo in mere seconds. He does it for me in every way. I am happy to say that nerds in flip flops are my new "type."
Talk to me. Are you attracted to the "type" of person you are with, or am I smoking crack again and none of this makes any sense?
Because, on the flip side of this equation, I wonder if the majority of people are attracted to exactly the opposite of what they are with. Maybe I am the freak and the norm is to want what you don't have?
Maybe it's 90% emotional and very little physical?
Maybe it has nothing to do with a type- Quiet, smart and sensitive, and more to do with a body- Strong, tall, blonde. Type- Wild, spontaneous and fun. Body- dark, lean, and perfect teeth. Type- rugged, outdoorsman, mama's boy. Body- 5'10 lean but ripped.
Maybe its all how they make you feel and nothing to do with what kind of person they are or what they look like at all.
I think I am having a break through right here and now on my blog! I see the light. This is it. I just discovered a truth about me. First Love paid a lot of attention to me. He cared more than anything about what was going on in my head. If he didn't know what I was thinking, he wouldn't leave until he did. He learned who I was real fast by talking to me for hours. I always thought he should have grown up to be a shrink because he was good at figuring people out and was a fantastic listener.
When I married The Ex, he was the "type" of guy I was comfortable with, but he never cared to psychoanalyze me and I never felt heard or understood. NEVER. After we fell out of love, I stupidly attempted to regain my first love. Looking back, it may have been easier to just see a shrink to feel understood. But, I probably would have fallen in love with the shrink and ended up in the exact same place.
When I met Brandon on the side of the road, he wanted to talk…… and we talked and talked and talked. He wanted to know me, inside and out, and for the first time since I was seventeen years old, I felt like I mattered to somebody. Truly, truly mattered. Shit, no wonder the sex was so amazing.
There you have it. That's the story of why I was attracted to a guy in a tie.
PS- I am aware that this post is all over the place. The stream of conscience blogging is what you get today.
PPS- You are all still welcome and encouraged to share your attraction stories because I would love to be distracted with a little sex today. THANK YOU!
Who would you rather have in your living room?
They are both GORGEOUS! And let's assume for a moment that neither one is going to have sex with you or kill you, but you have to watch them do "their business" on others.
Who would it be?
You see, I have spent the past weekend watching one entire season of 24. First time ever. I HATE violence. I hate being scared. I hate DEATH! But I sat through the entire second season of this extremely popular television show, all weekend long. I have now witnessed more murders than I can count, more suicides than should ever be allowed on TV, nuclear warfare, plane crashes, treason, child abuse, domestec violence, torture, and episode after episode filled with people point blank shooting each other. Scenes of death, dying, and wounded people filled my brain in forty five minute increments. To say that I am deeply disturbed would be a gross understatement.
I was up all night long with anxiety. I felt like there were terrorists in my family room, pistols cocked and ready to fire. That is not a good feeling. How do you all watch this shit? Why is this allowed on prime time television? They monitor the HELL out of pornography, but you can turn on your television set and watch people torture each other. WHY?
Now I don't want you all to think I am an advocate of the Porn industry, but I am far more comfortable watching people having sex, than blowing each others heads off.
Oh I know that people are NOT really killing each other on the set of 24 and that people really are having sex on the set of a porn flick. BUT the graphic images that violence left in my brain are SO NOT COOL and I would far rather sit through a few good sex scenes than ever watch Jack Bauer in action again.
Nothing against Kiefer Sutherland. He is fantastic. But I am NOT a FAN of Violence!
If I am going to be up all night from something I have watched on TV… well, I am sure you can imagine that up all night having sex is far better than up all night with one eye open and the light on.
I am still sitting here shaking my head.
I have had my share of critics calling this blog TRASH because of the rated R things I write about, and I shake my head in bewilderment at how on earth masturbation, semen, and making love can be so offensive. But time after time I offend and upset someone out there with talk of such "trashy" things.
The other day I had a big "aha" moment. Jace came home from school after they learned about the slaves and about the people who helped the slaves. He told me stories of adventure, hiding, running, and murder. YES, MURDER! Then he proceeded to go into great detail about the murder of the people caught helping slaves escape. "They could be hanged, or shot, or stoned to death." He told me he would never want to be hung from a tree because you don't die right away, instead you can "feel yourself suffocating and your face gets hot." He would, "rather be shot, because you can't feel anything and you die right away. It's like being bombed."
That's about the point that I flipped my lid! I was ready to call the school board. I was shaking and stewing and stressed out of my mind that this stuff was being discussed in school, in 2nd freaking grade! I could hardly pull myself together. There is nothing worse than murder. I can't even wrap my brain around somebody taking another's life. But if you turn on the TV, it happens between every commercial break. It is so in our face that it becomes the norm. It's not normal for me. I can't bring myself to watch it. I know it's not real. I know that TV and movies are fake, but why do we all love the VIOLENCE? It's not just TV, it's video games, music videos, etc etc. I can't seem to get away from it.
So, my aha moment was this, I think just as many of you, if not more, feel the way I feel about violence, about sex. As disturbed as I am about Jack Bauer, you are just as upset when I discuss my sex life. I sit here now shaking my head. I don't get it. But I get it …Ya know? So I didn't call the school or even send an email. I just took a deep breath, said a little prayer and hope that my kids turn out alright in spite of being taught how to die in second grade.
Lord Help Me!
I am following my own advice. When I tell people "get off my blog if you don't like what you read." I am doing the same thing. I will not subject my tender heart to Jack Bauer EVER again. I promise. It traumatized the shit out of me. My patience wore thin, my nerves were shot, and my anxiety was off the charts. I have nobody to blame but Jack Bauer. Sorry Jack, I can't do you again.
***important to note. I don't let my kids watch porn, or even rated R movies… But I am far more likely to let them watch a PG-13 if it's rated that way for nudity and sex scenes than violence and language. I do not want my kids to think that killing each other is an option. Honestly, after fifteen episodes of 24, I was looking in my top drawer for a pistol that I don't even own. But I may need one in case CTU comes bursting through my doors. It's easy to be desensitized to this stuff when you see it over and over.
Maybe that's why I think sex is okay and you all think MURDER is fine!
Lord help me. When will my life be normal?
This gallery of photos may help you understand why I don't have a cooking blog.
Parker's cookies tasted DELICIOUS! He personally sampled each and every ingredient….
What a good boy!
********************************************************
I know Civil rights day is long over, but this came home in Dalin's backpack and because it's the cutest thing I have ever seen, it had to be shared.
****************************************************************************************
My last giveaway did not produce a winner. I am getting a complex. I know it's been weeks, but I never discussed this either. I realize I am slacking big time. I am so sorry.
Chasity played and was asked the following question. "Bronson used two analogies to describe life. One was a movie and the other a board game. Name them." She got the monopoly right away, but didn't know The Love Guru. She got the fifty bucks to amazon.
I am going to make these questions easier, because I am tired of people not winning.
**************************************************************************************
I lost a few years of my life last week….
I know I have mentioned before that I am a freak about scary movies. I HATE THEM. The sounds of terror send me over the edge.
Growing up in the Mormon Church, our leaders would counsel the youth to stay the HELL away from PORN because it would "be forever etched into your brain." Yeah right. I have watched countless hours of porn and nothing is etched into my brain. However, the scary movies I have seen over the years are etched so deeply into my brain you can hear the sound of Norman Bates calling to his mother if you sit close enough to me. *SHUDDER* I KNOW, it scares the shit out of me too.
Next to Psycho, worlds most terrifying movie is The Shining. I was so traumatized by this movie, growing up, I couldn't watch the Jazz games when they played the Lakers, because I would catch a glimpse of Jack and I would FLIP! It rocked me to the very core. I swear to God just thinking about it, sitting here alone with my keyboard and wondering if I even dare to type the words….
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."
Last week when I was sick and in bed with a fever. I may have been hallucinating, but in rolled my worst nightmare….
Parker, that is, on this damn trike, that he thinks belongs in the house.
I was in and out of sleep and thought I heard him roll by a few times and my brain turned him into Danny Boy, because those effing movies are etched so deep, it is far more likely to be him instead of my own son. My room grew quiet. I listened intently. I heard nothing but I felt a HUGE presence. I forced my eyes open and came face to face with Parker. Standing. Still. Perfectly Still. And my body went cold and my heart stopped beating. And if he wasn't so damn cute, I would have beat him, because he could have been Danny Boy coming to speak about Red Rum or something.
I lost a few years of my life.
*******************************************************************************
I miss Bronson.
That seems so lame, since he is actually living in my house for the first time in almost five years. But I have gotten used to him being around and having my thumb on his pulse, and my eye on his behavior. BUT, this past two weeks, he has been working full time plus and I never see him. He rolls out of the house before I even get up, he rolls back into the house about the time I am going to bed, and even when I am not going to bed, he goes straight to his room to talk to his woman and leaves me nothing but his laundry to do. And I am not complaining about that. You all know I love the laundry.
But damnit, I bitched and complained about all the driving I had to do with him when he was in therapy. Two hours a day, back and forth to Laguna Beach….Waa. Waa. Waa. I should have been relishing in that time I had alone with him. I NEVER get to have Bronson to myself. Instead of embracing the opportunity to spend some quality time with my adult child, I pissed it away, and forgot to enjoy it. Kinda seems like the story of my life.
He is doing awesome and staying busy. He is happy and productive. I am a PROUD mama. I don't have a clue what his future holds, but if he is happy, I am happy.
******************************************************************************
Last but not least.
SHAYLEE has been accepted to SEVEN colleges and four of them with very nice scholarships. Here we go again!
I am so flipping proud of her I can't stand it!
****************************************************************************
Maybe I need Twitter again so I don't have to have six different topics in one post.
Happy Thursday Friends!
Conversation between Sandi and Hunter
H- What happens if you mix ammonia and chlorine bleach together?
S- I don't know, google it.
H -Why can't you google it? I am already on the terrorist watch list.
****************************************************************
Conversation between Brandon and Sandi
S- I am ordering clothes from Matilda Jane.
B- Who did you get them for?
S- Me.
B- They make clothes for old people?
S- Go to hell.
************************************************************
An observation by Jazzi
I was making spanish rice the other night. I had a tube of ground beef over the pan and I was squeezing it out.
Jazzi walks by and says, "That looks like someone going to the bathroom."
***********************************************************
A conversation between Sandi and her dad
D- Did you call Loralee?
S- No I didn't call her and I am not going to call her.
D- I want the phone number she mistakingly texted.
S- Stop it DAD!
D- I have to meet this Bethiny from the office. She would work in this area right? It was a 949 area code?
S- STOP!
*********************************************************
A conversation between Sandi and Hadley
H-Mom?
S-What?
H- Never mind, I chickened out.
********************************************************
"The toilet's clogged."
"There is nothing to eat."
"I am bored."
"Where's Pickle?"
"Ty peed all over the bathroom."
"There is nobody to play with."
"I can't find my shoes."
"I can't find my homework."
"Tang has a MOUSE!"
"We found her clothes and a diaper, but we can't find her."
"The remotes not working."
"The internets not working."
"The cats ate another nipple."
"It wasn't me."
"It's not mine."
"You're not the boss of me."
"It's not a school night…. we get to stay up late."
"YOU PROMISED!"
*****************************************************
Let me hear it peeps… What do you hate to hear at your house?
I feel like a fraud when I don't share everything with you. I have never been good at keeping my secrets to myself. If they are your secrets, I can keep them without difficulty. They won't keep me up all night long, or tie my stomach in knots. But if it's my secret, or my news, or my thoughts, I need to tell you. I am the friend that calls to tell you about the inappropriate dream I had last night, because "OMG, how embarrassing… has this ever happened to you?"
Give me a friend that will listen to my woes, my deepest darkest thoughts and secrets, and still love me in spite of them, and I am happy. Thankfully, I have a few of those. Sadly, they all live in Utah.
This blog has become my friend. I want to dish my every thought and share my deepest fears. Unfortunately, people that aren't my friends read it. Until about a year ago, all my readers were my friends…. I have learned to deal with the "critics" and hope that if you read, you will become my friend, but if not, that's the way the cookie crumbles.
I am not afraid of you knowing the things I want to share. I am sure judgement will be passed. I am sure unsolicited advice will be doled out. But in the end, you will know me. You may not understand me, but you will have more pieces of the puzzle. Sadly, Brandon has NOT moved past the fear of judgement, because the business we are involved in requires him to maintain some professionalism in the industry. That means I can't blog shit about our business. He doesn't care if I blog about our insane lives, but he draws the line about business matters. That has never been a problem until now, because I needed to BITCH!
When I wrote a huge rant yesterday about the oil world and the stress that comes with it, I was met with a "Hell No! You are not putting that online." So, we compromised with a password protected post.
If you ever want to see just how many readers you have, password protect a post. I thought "giveaways" brought out the readers. Nope, it's a post they can't read.
Thank you all for the kind emails and comments. I gave out twenty five passwords yesterday and I think that is all I am going to do. In the beginning it was the business we were protecting….. But after hearing back from the twenty five people that were allowed to read my post, they seem to think I would get slaughtered online if that post fell into the wrong hands. Surprise surprise. I get slaughtered online for just being born.
Anyway, that password thing is awesome. I can talk all I want about anything I want and not one of you can read it, unless I let you. I think we are on to something here. I heard from so many of you. Most tried to prove they were "nice readers." I had to laugh at some of you. I was getting page and half long emails from people I have never seen on my blog once. The readers that got passwords were people I know, because they comment. I don't expect you to all comment on every post. Hell, I rarely comment on the blogs I read, but if you claim you have been reading me for over a year, and I don't know you at all, and your email doesn't show up in my word press… It makes me go "hmmmm."
If you read me, say "Hi" once in awhile. I love meeting you. I have made awesome friends from blogging. I never would have made them without commenting on their blogs or without them commenting on mine. Friends are so important. I have always known this, but, there is nothing like packing up and moving away from all of them to make you really appreciate just how important having a friend is. This little blog has brought on it's share of enemies, but I will take every one of them to have the friendships that I enjoy because of this place. Thank you all for making it fun to be here everyday.
Life is still stressful, it will be for a few more days. But that's life.. right? Life is not all sunshine and rainbows, even in this house.
Happy Tuesday Friends!
WE ARE ALL SICK!
I am not sure you can fathom the amount of snot that this family is capable of producing.
I am living in it and contributing to the production, and I still can't fathom it.
Our schedules are shot to hell.
The days and nights all blur together.
We just spent $104 at Walgreens on OTC meds,
and $206 at the same Walgreens on prescription meds.
My house smells like a pharmacy.
I want to feel better
but more than anything, I want my babies to feel better.
Sailor started breathing treatments today. Poor little pudding.
So forgive the shittyness of this post, but I have people emailing me to see if I have died because I haven't blogged…..
I hope this explains my absence.
Dear Internet,
Please excuse the absence of Sandi Benson, she is currently parenting sick children. They are like snot factories and mucus machines and they very rudely infected her with their germs, making dealing with them even more difficult, because sick children suck, but sick children being parented by a sick mother, that hasn't had a good night sleep in five days nineteen years, suck even worse.
And, said mother, Sandi Benson is currently drugged up on Children's triaminic, because it looked delicious, so she finished the bottle waiting for American idol to start, but her judgement was already cloudy at that point because Sailor's breathing treatment blew into her face and she is feeling extremely lightheaded.
The combination of exhaustion, albuteral, and triaminic have made even a simple post impossible. And the mother's husband is busy working on a new deal and hasn't even offered to guest post.
Signed,
The brain dead Zombie that looks a lot like the mother that lives in this house.
Please send CANDY!