GAH!!!

If life were a grade school essay right this moment, I would have to call this one, "Why I would happily go to jail for manslaughter." 

I swear!  Why do ex husbands have to be such a pain in the ass?  

My ex and I generally get along.  Not like best friends, but more like "I've seen you naked, I know shit about you that could possibly have you burned at the stake as a witch so you better not piss me off cause trust me, you WILL go down." kind of friends.  I once saw a  picture that said, My best friend is not allowed to stop being my best friend; the bitch knows too much.  That's what my relationship is like with my ex.  We both know way too much about the other so like it or not, we are always going to be in each other's life.  In my case, after my kids are eighteen, I don't care if I never have his number in my phone again.  Burn my ass at the stake if he tells my secrets.  Hell by the time my kids are eighteen, all of my secrets will be scattered through my blog and books anyway...

Back to the matter at hand.  I hate when I start rambling because I go all over the place and put my serious ADD on display.  IT's like, one, two, goat, rabbit, ooh shiny!  What was I saying?

Oh yeah!  My ex husband has the power to push all of my buttons and make me feel like I;m walking barefoot in the land of broken glass, barbed wire, and tiny tiny, Lego's.  Everytime we interact just about.

This afternoon, I asked him to call me because he's supposed to get the girls this weekend and I don't want him to forget nor do I want him to be rushing them like he was the week before last and they forget half of the stuff that they need.  He texted me back that he was in a teacher conference.  First off, I was kinda ticked because he tends to leave me out of my own son's life as far as calling me for conferences goes.  My son leaves me out of his life for everything else and I have accepted that.  But whatever.  I told him to call me when he got out of the conference.  No answer.  Skip forward to tonight when I get home.

I just got off work and I feel like the walking dead on my feet.  I love my job, but people really need to start cooking their own damn meals.  And if they can't cook their own damn meals at least learn to not all call and put web orders in at the same time.  The past two nights, the screen and phones have been blowing up. But whatever, It was just a tiring night at work.  I get home and my kids are telling me about how they talked to Daddy (great!) and how he's going to go up to the school tomorrow and tell them that he think there are too many kids in Kayla's class and she needs a smaller class.

First of all, they're going to look at him like, "Excuse me?? Who the hell are you?" because I didn't put him down as a contact this year and if they have the cards from last year in the kids' files, it clearly says that if he shows up, they are to call me.  He's not allowed to see them or take them from school without my permission.  I did that a few years ago when he liked to swoop into town and pick them up without telling me and then when I was freaking out because my kids weren't on the bus, he'd show up and they'd be sticky and messy and high on sugar while holding ice cream cones.  That shit used to piss me off.  So I fixed it and who better to make sure that he stays at arms length than a school system that employs a CMPD officer to keep the kids safe?  But what I needed was for himk to call me.  Because I needed to talk to him.

I admit it, I kinda lost it.  I sent him a really mean text.  But I prefaced it with, "What part of "I need you to call me" is spanish to you???"  THEN I launched into the really abusive petty text that was so long, my phone turned it into a picture message.  He responded that he would call me in the AM I told him after nine and then I realized, he's only responding because he didn't get the really long one.  So I warned him.  I just said "FYI you're about to get a really mean text from me."  he responded "lol, K."

He knows my buttons and he knows he pushed one of them by not calling me back today because he knows that I don't call him to shoot the shit.  I don't want to talk to him to ask him about his day, I don't care if he had a good one.  I don't give a general shit if he did everything he wanted to do today.  When I call him, I need to talk to him about the kids.  I like the conversations to be short and to the point and I don't want to gossip.  So yeah, he knew that if I warned him he was about to get a really long really mean text from me, it means he pushed the wrong buttons and I reacted in true Hiroshima style.

That being said, I should probably get to bed.  He's going to forget to call in the morning and I;m going to have to call him and try to control my anger.  

When I finally do get an actual boyfriend, he will have to be a really understanding person.  After talking to Randy, I usually need to go decompress for a little bit.  There's two choices.  Make me forget or let me decompress.

That just put a really bad thought in my head.  I;m going to go to bed now.

Oh yeah!! I got my hoodie today from work!! Yay!!  Love it already.

Okay, I'm going to bed.  I mean it.  I promise.  Stay Frosty!

Only blogging because I haven't in awhile...

So there's really nothing new that I can put in a blog at this point.

I'm still having the same love life struggles.  There's new twists in it but alas, nothing that I can put where just anyone can read it no matter how much I want to.

And I really, really want to tell someone and get another opinion on the matter but there's just some things that you just don't put online, you know?

Work is still going well.  I'm still the main insider.  If it's not a Tuesday night, and it's between five and ten, there's a really good chance that I may have made your pizza if you ordered from my Hungry Howie's.  Or at least cut it.  Sometimes I'm the make line moma and other times, I'm the oven wench.  These are my names for the spots in the kitchen.  I haven't come up with a name for when I am on the sheeter but then, I am rarely on the sheeter for very long.  I know that when I end up doing dough, I am Dough Dette.

As a matter of fact, work, is so awesome that I wish all of my life mirrored work.  Get in, get out, have fun while you're there.  Make some tasty food. Make people happy through their stomachs and some great customer service.

Okay, I'm not so great at the customer service thing.  Sometimes if I have a headache and I answer the phone and encounter one of those increasingly not so rare people who call a pizza parlor and still aren't sure of what they want to eat, my tone can be a little... well... strained.  Then you have the mothers or the young people who are on the phone but really need to hand the phone over to the person they are talking to just off the phone, or the ones that just need to hang up, handle the discipline of their kids and then call back.  I think of all the callers I dislike the most, the ones that yell at their kids with no regard to the ears of the person on the phone are the ones I hate the most.  I would deal with a hundred indecisive people before I deal with them voluntarily.

It's Breast Cancer research month.  Well October is.  We're selling bracelets and totebags at work and gasp!  I get to wear a black shirt for the month!!  IF I die in Howie's in the next month, there's a 1/6 chance that it won't be in a red shirt... so basically, I'm still going to die in black and red.

When you guys have my Viking funeral, just know that if you bury me in my Howie's uniform, I will haunt you so hard, your great great grandchildren will call me the household ghost.

On to bigger more vague topics.

When I was a teenager, I went to see a palmist.  You know, the fortune tellers that read your future from the lines on your hand?  Yeah, she flipped my left hand over and looked at the side and told me in no uncertain terms that I was to have four children and two marriages.  My first child would be born just shy of being illegitimate,  Which was true.  It was actually a few short weeks before New York and the Navy recognized our marriage as legal.  Something the navy would later renege on, but that's another story.  Nevertheless, J was born only two weeks after his father and I were deemed legally married.  She also promised that there would be two more children and the marriage would end around the birth of the third child.  Let's just go and say yeah, that's basically around when it ended... or should have...  She went on to say that I would have another child before my second marriage.

Besides the fact that I suck at sex (No seriously, I've actually be told this by two different men) this is why I'm scared to death of having sex.  I kinda don't want another child.  The ones I have are teenegers.  I can actually see that light at the end of the Mommy tunnel.  I can smell the salt air of my cruise, I can hear the horn of the cruise ship blowing in the distance.  I can taste that margarita.

I do want to get married though and she was adamant that the child would come before my next marriage as it was very clearly BEFORE my marriage line.  She also said I'd be in that marriage until the end of my life.  I have several theories on that.  None I will expound on.

So, there you go.  A blog.  About nothing but still I have a blog in for the month.  Is it October yet?

I'd stay Frosty but Fall has hit Charlotte and everyone is Frosty.  Try and stay warm.

Ta!

And the laughs just keep on coming!!

Welcome to the Wilson/Henderson Household where the laughs and the hits just keep on coming until you laugh from the hits and cry from the laughs!

So first up in the household news, I just used Nair on my oldest daughters legs for the first time.  I refuse to shave any child of mine.  She will have to learn the same way I did... wait until mom's out of the house and then spend the next two hours cutting myself and trying to come up with a plausible excuse for the massive amounts of cuts.  I knew her legs were getting bad but given the fact that I'm mostly pretending to be awake when they are getting ready for school, I don't notice that below my daughters shorts it looked like she was wearing black leg warmers and that is me being nice.  Of all the traits she had to get from her father, this one I am NOT happy about.  And I know she got it from his side because I actually called my mother, she confirmed we do not have hairy women on our side of the family.  I never looked at my XMIL long enough to wonder if she suffered from extra hair.  I do remember the X as having hair on his legs because I HATED when he would rub his legs against me the few times we were in bed together.  HAted it.

So now Big girl is walking around the house rubbing her arms and legs saying how it feels so smooth and so weird.  I totally do not blame her, I did the same thing the first time I nair'd... I also remember thinking if Nair is out there, why the hell do women prefer razors.  I mean seriously rub cream on wash hair off.  Hair stays gone a long time.  Versus rub foamy crap on scrap a sharp blade over skin, cuss because you hit a hair bump and now you're bleeding not go in an absolute straight line because you were too busy smarting over the bump and cut yourself again and when it's all done you have about two weeks of smooth goodness before you have to repeat.  Oh hell no!! Nair for me all the damn way. (Though I do shave some things)  So I'm going to see how she adjusts to being Nair'd once every couple of months.

In other health and beauty news, I am still running late and feeling like a broken typewriter.  Today marked day five on the missed period logs.  I don't think I have ever been this late before.  Makes me wonder if there's a lost tryst I should be trying to remember.  I mean if by some miracle and yes I'm gonna stick with miracle I'm pregnant (I'm not I know I'm not) I'm gonna have to start going to church more because ah... I haven't had sex since 2011.  That means old boys little guys have been lost in there for a little under three years.  So no, not preggo.  More than likely starting menopause.  Wanna say this is gonna be fun but I remember my mother's menopause.  It was NOT fun.  Heat on in the middle of summer, AC on on during a blizzard  Windows rolled down in the car in December and trying hard to hang out of the windows because she cranked the heater up in July.  I actually made a cop wonder what the hell was going on in the car one day cause I was hanging out of the window like a dog sweating my ass off.  He pulled up beside her and asked if I was okay, All I could pant was that my mother was having a cold flash and had the heat turned up.  Somehow he understood and just kept on going.

I'm happy to say that if I'm having mood swings, I'm not noticing.  But then I think I'm certifiably nuts anyway so  not sure if I am or not.  I know I've been pretty happy as of late.  Maybe mood swings for me will just be a massive evening out of my moods.  That would be awesome!  I'm probably the only woman ever to actually be happy about menopause.

Hmm... Is there anything else??

Oh yeah.  So as stupid crap always does, it gets back to the person it's about and this crap was about me.  The x's new Mrs. thinks I should drop the name Henderson because it's hers now and I'm not a Henderson anymore.  On one hand I'm tempted to say have at it, the name never did me any good but then on the other hand, I put blood sweat and a shitload of tears into that name.  I'm like Tina Turner.  I earned that damn name.  True I only use it when I run across a teacher who insists that because my children are Henderson so must I but nearly EVERYONE calls me wilson now.  I don't want the name and would happily drop it if I ever get married again but damn, maybe it's the fact that she wants me to drop it makes me want to hold onto it even more.  Keep in mind that I'm laughing my ass off about it.  I'm not mad at all.

Everything else in life is going swimmingly. Absolutely nothing else to blog about.  That or my mind is just drawing a blank.

I turn 35 in a few days.  Oddly enough I'm looking forward to it.  I'm at a good place in my life right now  So 35 isn't so scary.

Stay frosty bloggers!  I'll be back!

Gear grinding

And yes, this is going to be one of those blogs where I complain a bit.

So for the last two or three weeks, my left shoulder has been in constant pain.  Sort of like I pulled it out of the socket but I know I didn't because I can still move it.  If I pulled it out I would be in someone's ER crying and carrying on like a baby.  I know this, it has happened before and as much as I want to say, "I've been through childbirth three times, I can handle that kind of pain!" I can't.  As a matter of fact, if I ever look at you and say that, slap me and remind me that the kind doctors knocked my fool ass out until each of my babies were born so I didn't feel a damn thing.

Back to my pain.  It's been like this for about two or three weeks.  It's becoming increasingly hard to move despite it.  I can do my job, yes, but lifting Pizza's off the oven with the grasper, not so much fun.  Especially when someone orders an extra large or a large with every freaking topping we have on the sumbitch.  I've tried hot showers, I've tried my muscle relaxers thinking it was just a pulled muscle.  I've tried my Ibuprofen thinking that it was swelling that needed to go down.  That just made my stomach hurt and I AM NOT repeating the experience that eventually led me to a prescription of Omeprazole and a colonoscopy.  No thank you, Not going to happen.  I even tried my tramadol and got no results whatsoever.  I even tried slamming my shoulder into a wall to try and shove it back in place.  That particular episode ending with me crying and curled up in a ball on the floor.  No I'm serious.  In a ball.  On the floor.

So today I got up and went to my doctors office.  Keep in mind that this is the very same woman who refuses to get the numbness in my hands checked out and has told me that I am to wear braces that cause the shit to hurt more at night.  She steadfastly refuses to give me a referral to see if it's carpal tunnel enough for surgery or maybe a pinched nerve since it affects both hands.  There is NO ONE sitting in the lobby.  As I walk up, I can see her sitting at the desk surfing Facebook on the computer.  I ask if she has a spare five minutes to see me so I can ask her about my shoulder.  The nurse receptionist rather rudely informs me that Dr. Lewis doesn't have the time to see me nor does she do walk in appointments.  I'm like I just need to ask her about my shoulder and she's over there on Facebook.  At this point the receptionist moves to block my view of Dr. Lewis and says I;l have to make an appointment and the next one they have is a month from now.  So I'm supposed to live in daily pain for a month?  She then tells me to try an urgent care clinic although she doesn't know that they will do anything for me because they can't prescribe narcotics.

EXCUSE ME?!?!?  I'm sorry,. did I come in here asking for a fix to stop my pain?? No, I came in asking if the doctor could look at it.  Never once did the phrase "Can I get something for the pain" come out of my mouth.  Bitch I have narcotics at home.  If I needed something strong, I could probably get it somewhere.  I don't need you to pass judgement on me.  No, none of this came out of my mouth.  I did however give her the look that said all of this.  I turned to walk away but ever the lady, I turned and said, "Thank you.  Have a nice day."

So there's an Urgent care affiliated with CMC actually right down the street from me.  Most medicaid people don't go there because I kinda live in a nice part of town that suggest one of those urgent care visits would cost you a first born and they don't take Medicaid.  The visits do cost a pretty penny, but they do take medicaid.  The woman was nice.  She consulted with a practitioner there who said they could see me but if it's the rotator cup like she thinks, that would be a referral to orthopedics.  Something I would have to get from Dr. Lewis. (Oh joy!)  They just have to call CMC Biddlepoint to get the okay for them to see me.  The woman tried eight times to get through and the number just kept hanging up on her.  I tried a few times and it kept hanging up on me.  So no they couldn't see me.  Yes, I am still in pain.  No I am not a happy camper right now.

This is why people complain about medicaid.  They take forever, most of the doctors do the bare minimum and they are not people friendly at all unless the moon has circled the sun and butterflies have pooped rainbows. It's a pain in the ass and if I could afford actual heath insurance coverage I would so get it  So now I don't know what to do... Book the appointment a month from now and just deal with the pain or go to the freaking Emergency room and try them.  I so don't want to go to the ER because truthfully this is NOT an emergency.  IF I've lived with it for three weeks can I not live with it for another four?  That being said the long I take to decide this the more chances I have that the one appointment she had a month from now will be booked and I will have to wait two months.  IF I go to the ER, I run the risk of them thinking I'm a pill seeker in which case, they will pull up my record that the military was kind enough to release that clearly states I have a Narc case out on me that will never freaking go away. (I was a bad girl.  When my marriage was bad, I tried twice to overdose on pills so now I'm classified as a narc case and can only be prescribed low level narcs unless actually admitted.)  Also, if I go to the ER, Medicaid will yell at me for not waiting to see my doctor since I obviously wasn't in so much pain that I needed a ride or wasn't screaming in agony.  IF they'd like I can scream, but my heart wouldn't be in it.

MEdical problems. ::Rolls eyes::

In other news. I have all but given up on the guy that things were actually going pretty nice with at the top of the summer.  I can't get him to spend any time with me.  Even when we are both off work.  The summer excuse was that he was always fishing.  Then as that seemed to play out, the tags on his car are out of date and he doesn't want to get pulled over (But he can go to Volleyball every Sunday with no qualms.  A place that's further away than my house.)  As of Sunday, his car is now over heating...  Also even I have a line.  If you know me in real life, then you know that I rarely invite people over my house when my kids are here.  Men Women, anyone.  Definitely not men. There are only two guys besides my ex that have ever been here when my kids were here and both of them were here only to ask me a question or pick me up and the time spend around my kids could be measured in the minute range.  Like less than five.  I actually invited him over for spaghetti and movie night a few days ago and he completely blew me off.  If the subject had come up around any of our mutual friends, they would have told him that for me to invite him to come to the house and not only eat but sit and watch a movie while the girls were home was a HUGE thing.  Something that happens like...never.  Also, you generally only get one shot at that invite.  His loss.

My birthday is coming up.  In fact it's exactly a week from now.  I'm going to celebrate ON Sunday, I hope.  It may not happen but I hope it does.  I told the ladies at church that I don't have custody of my girls on the weekends so they can't be in any of the programs unless cleared by me and their father beforehand.  Apparently that just means jump over me and ask my mom.  This weekend was all set.  I was going to as their father to keep them and take them to school Monday morning.  That way, I could party Sunday night and be fine by the time the buss brought them home at five that afternoon.  When the youth advisors talked to my mom about parts in this Sunday's show, she decided that Randy could bring the kids to her Sunday night and that she would take them to church and the program then bring them back that night.

Here's the thing.  If she brings them back that night, I can't drink or have real fun because the party wasn't even scheduled to start until like six.  She would be bringing them home in time for bed at nine thirty which means I would get about three hours of non alcoholic fun in before I had to go home and be mom.

No.  On so many many levels no.  Just no.  I'm waiting to hear back from Randy to see if he has to work this weekend and if he can keep the girls and drop them at school monday morning.

I'm getting really sick of no one listening to me on how I want to live my life and raise my kids.  Everyone thinks they know better.  I'm actually starting to think that maybe I should find someplace else to live.  My mother has my aunt now.  She doesn't need me around.  And honestly, ever since the last fight we had about her running my life where she called me an asshole and hung up on me, I haven't much felt like my mom is someone I want to always have in my loops.  I know it's wrong on so may levels to think that way, but neither of us is going to apologize for what was said that night and although she seems to be working on the "Forget what was said and let's act all buddy buddy again" theory, it's hard to forget or forgive when your own mother steps into the middle of your problems with the ex, creates even more problems and then takes his side because you don't do what she wants you to do.

And on top of that, my bullshit tolerance level is being slow to drain so the one person who usually skates around my last nerve at work is straight jumping on said nerve.  I've been really good though.  For three days now, I haven't said a word to her so there's no conflicts at work.  If I just stay quiet until my tolerance level has bottomed out I should be fine.  And it's not just her.  A lot of just straight bullshit is wearing on me.  Stuff that usually doesn't bother me all that much suddenly is just like the end of the world now.

My period is three days late.  Not even a sign of it.  If I had been having sex, I might be worried.  The fact that I am having horrible mood swings, and hot flashes followed by cold flashes is leading me to think that I might just be about to step into the menopause circle.  NOrmally, this is something that I would accept and keep on trucking.  I mean honestly, it means no periods anymore right?  I should be happy.  No, I'm over here freaking out because my period.

My birthday is in a week and I keep joking that I'm turning 25 and will stay that way until further notice but people on my facebook have been calling me out and telling me to be proud of my age and all that crap.  I am proud of my age.  I am proud that I lived this long.  So what if I don't want to claim it??  What the eff business is it of anyone else?  See??? This is the shit that should just roll off my back but it's not.  It's getting stuck there like gum in my hair because my bullshit tolerance level just won't drain.

I need the shit to drain so that I can go back to be happy go lucky me.  Walking around thinking horrible things about certain people all the time is not good for me.  I can hold them in a for awhile but then they get bored in my head and take walk out of my mouth and I lose friends.  I don't want to lose friends.

For now, I'm just keeping my distance and keeping quiet.  If I do that, I should be able to hold out until it's safe to talk again.

People always say be yourself.  Right now, I wish I were anyone BUT myself.