They’re not pet peeves…they’re whole kennels of irritation

They’re not pet peeves…they’re whole kennels of irritation

***WARNING: The following post is rated R.  It contains strong language and adult situations.  Author assumes no responsibility for any offense taken if you choose to read past this point.*** 

As I have mentioned in previous posts, I’m what you would call a type A personality.  I like certain levels of order and organization, and like things done a certain way.  So obviously, there are a lot of things out there that seriously bug me.  They’re most commonly referred to as “pet peeves,” but to me, it’s just people having no effing common sense!  Since I still have not yet completed my master plan to control the entire world, I thought I would share a list of my top 15 pet peeves.

15.  Ombre hair color (AKA, roots)

  
Sorry Ombre fans, but it’s called roots, and if you can’t afford and/or are too lazy to keep up with hair coloring, then don’t color your hair!  I seriously don’t get why everyone doesn’t have the same opinion on this subject.

14. Socks and sandals

  
I have never, nor will I ever, understand this so-called fashion trend.  Guess what?  If the shoes require socks, then they are not sandals!

13. Drivers that don’t use a turn signal.

  
Enough said.

12. People who go to work sick.

  
Here is my PSA for the day:  You are not that special.  The company will survive without you for the appropriate amount of days it takes for you to get over whatever plague you might be suffering from.  Don’t be bringing that contagious shit around me unless you want to be punched in the face.

11. Wearing a band’s shirt to be “cool”

  
This makes me insane.  When I see a little hipster teen wearing a Nirvana shirt because they think it’s cool, but can’t even name one of their songs, I want to slap them silly!

10. Over-use of the word “like”

  
Might as well be fingernails on a chalkboard.

9. People who give their childs age in months (past the age of 1)

  
Because let’s face it, past 12 months, I’m too lazy to do the math.  Stop making me to try to decipher the actual age of your 45-month-old.  It’s not cute.

8. Couples who say “We’re pregnant”

  
I can’t even with this one.  Don’t do it people.  Just…don’t.

7. People who eat with their mouths open.

  
I always want to ask people, “Were you raised by pigs, is it a nasal problem, what?”  Whatever it is, figure that shit out, because I do not need to see your food as it is chewed and swallwowed.  And while we’re on that subject…

6.  Gum smackers.

  
You know the book 1984, at the end where they lock the people in a room that contains something that would be your greatest fear in order to torture them?  I feel like being locked in a room with someone smacking their gum constantly would be that form of torture for me.  I’m fairly confident I would literally go insane having to listen to it.  Honestly, I find chewing gum to be one of the most annoying things ever invented.

5.  People who invade my personal space in lines.

  
Here’s a tip:  If you see me inching away from you in line, that is me trying to regain some personal space so I don’t stab you.  It is NOT an invitation to move even closer to me.

4. Drivers who think they are more important than everyone else.

  
I dare these people to hit my car.  I also usually flash them some sublte form of communication to let them know they pissed me off…

3. Leggings as pants.

  
Don’t get me wrong, I like leggings as much as the next person.  Nothing says comfort like stretchy pants.  But ladies, please, no one wants to see every dimple on your ass or look at your camel toe.  If you’re gonna wear leggings, make sure the shirt is long enough to cover your lady parts!

2.  Bad grammar

  
Some days I wish I had a crappy education so all the bad grammar in the world wouldn’t bother me so much.  Pay attention in English class people.  It’s not that hard.

1.  Non-parents who give parenting advice.

  
Oh, you don’t have kids? Please, dazzle me with your parenting expertise.  Listen, I don’t even want unsolicited parenting advice from people who DO have kids.  So please, just keep those little kernels of wisdom to yourself, ok peeps?

Thanks as always for stopping by my blog.  Have a wonderful long weekend!

The Blitz

The Blitz

Before I became a mother, I had no clue how much my life was going to change.  It was definitely a rude awakening!  Soon after my child was born, I realized I was the equivalent of the blitz.  For those of you who aren’t familiar with the the blitz, allow me to explain:

“The Blitz” is a reference from another one of my all-time favorite TV shows, How I Met Your Mother.  The curse of the blitz is a curse that results in the victim missing epic, and sometimes miraculous occurences.  The effect is so strong that the victim’s absence is sometimes thought to be the cause of the epic events.  So if you are “the blitz,” it’s pretty much a given that any time you leave a room, something awesome is going to happen and you will miss it.

That was me for the longest time.  Here I was, a 26 year-old single mom of a child with special needs.  I was living in a crappy apartment, driving a crappy car, and had a crappy job.  Every time I “left the room” (i.e, quit college, took time out from my friends, didn’t go for that better job, became single) it would turn out that amazing things were happening to other people.  Every time I turned my back, someone was getting that great promotion or raise, someone was getting engaged, or married, or having a baby.  Getting a new car, or house, or that advanced degree.  Obviously my absence wasn’t what caused those things, but sometimes it felt that way.  For a long time I felt self pity, because I had not even gotten close to the succesful and driven woman I had set out to be.

Fast forward several years, and I am now a stay-at-home mom with my 10 year old and trying for another.  I still have not quite finished my college degree.  I have a part-time job, but I’m not a lawyer, or a doctor, or any of the successful things I thought I might have been.  I’m a wife and a mom.  And to be real, that actually always was my dream.  I just didn’t realize all the sacrifice and self-doubt that comes with it.  It’s the dream versus the reality, and somewhere you find the happy medium. 

The dream is that you’re this June Cleaver clone, perfectly groomed and dressed, cooking perfect gourmet four-course meals every day, with an immaculate house and a kick-ass body.  The reality is much different. I’m a hot mess! At this point in my life, the trash goes out more than I do.   Changing out of my flannel pj’s into black yoga pants qualifies as getting dressed.  You think being a stay-at-home mom means you don’t have to work, but in reality, it means you NEVER leave work.  It means doing all the work, but having people say you don’t work.

But, the more I thought about it, the more I came to realize I’m not the blitz, I am a super-star.  I have like 50 careers rolled into one title: Mom. I’m a housekeeper, tutor, private chef, waste removal specialist, ghost exorcist, child therapist, referee, private shopper, pet sitter and groomer, life coach, personal stylist, nurse, amatuer construction worker, and internet police woman, just to name a few.  I came to realize, I am amazing, and do not have to make apologies for the life I lead.

Being a mom is the most important job I will ever have.  The truth is, I didn’t lose myself when I became a mom, I found myself.  As it turns out, children aren’t a distraction from the real work.  They are the most important work.  It’s not about what you gave up to have a child, but what you gained by having one.  The most special thing I will ever do in my life is raise this little girl to be a strong, smart, confident, and caring woman.  My role in her life is the most essential and most eternal role ever.  And I plan to live up to that role to the best of my ability.  And even though most of the time I feel like I’m screwing it up, I know I’m doing the best job I can.  And it’s a job I will never regret having.

So Happy Mother’s Day to all you amazing moms out there.  Let’s elebrate each other and our children, and the screwed up but beautiful lives we all lead.  Have an amazing day!

  

Adventures from last night:  I discovered I can count all of my teeth using just my tongue…

Adventures from last night:  I discovered I can count all of my teeth using just my tongue…

For those of you that have neglected to read my “about” page, (wink, wink) I have type 1 diabetes.  I am coming up now on 19 years since my diagnosis.  It is important to me to raise awareness, but at the same time, I don’t talk about it very much.  Or more specifically, I don’t COMPLAIN about it very much.  I try not to.  This is the hand I was dealt, and I am managing it the best I can.  However, if you don’t want to hear a bit of a T1D rant, I suggest you stop reading now…

Every diabetic at some time or another, even the most well-managed ones, will have a bad diabetes day.  The dia-monster has come out to play with no warning and no explanation, and is here to wreak havoc on your day.  The monster is alive and ready to play.  And he does not play fair.  That was my day yesterday, and today.  He brings me up, then down, then up, then down, crashing (well, bouncing really) over and over again.

I woke up low, 52. I drank some juice, took the drama tween to school, and came home.  Blood sugar now in the 60’s.  Drank some more juice and was feeling super nauseated, so I went back to bed.  Flash forward 3 hours later, and I wake up, test, and am horrified at the number: 234.  What?! Why?!  Seriously?  So, I bolus the appropriate amount, eat some lunch, and everything seems to be semi-stable for now.

About 5:30pm I drop again.  Inevitably, while I’m driving, and of course do not have any glucose tablets with me. Well played, diabetes.  Well played.  I manage to make it home and proceed to eat half a jar of peanut butter.  (In hind sight, this wasn’t my best decision, but when I over-treat my lows, it’s not pretty!)  At this point I’m feeling super cranky and terrible.  And then for the rest of the night, I just stay high.  I try to sleep, with no success.

So I go out to the couch around 1:45 and turn on the tv.  It’s astounding how terrible late-night tv is.  Needless to say, I was pretty bored.  (Hence the title about counting my teeth lol) But no rest for the weary.  Gotta keep checking, gotta keep bolusing.  At this point I have switched to injections just to get back to normal.  (A 2:00am reading of 502 definitely kicked me into gear on that one!)

And then before I know it, it’s 6am again and time to get the morning started.  I get everything done, blood sugar still in the 200’s, bolus some more,  and go back to bed.  Wake up at 11:00 still in the 200’s.  At this point I change out my pump infusion site.  Probably should have already done that, but I had JUST put on a new one.  Those things are like gold ya’ll!  Can’t be just wasting them!

As I type this post it is 6pm and my blood sugar is now 105.  36 hours later, I finally have an acceptable reading.  Now comes the fear of another serious drop, but I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it.   And I still have no idea what caused all that.  I didn’t do anything or eat anything out of the ordinary, and the pump seemed to be functioning fine.  But what I’ve come to learn with the dia-monster is that sometimes you can do everything right and you’re still gonna have days like this!  It’s just a way of life with a chronic illness.  What I also realize is that I may be chronically ill, but I’m also chronically awesome!

In closing I will just say, try to remember that we are all dealing with something.  Just because I don’t talk about my struggles with T1D that much and play it off like it’s no big deal, doesn’t mean it isn’t a daily struggle for me to manage this horrible disease.  It’s 24/7, 365.  It never quits.  And so, neither do I!

None In the Oven

None In the Oven

I thought I learned everything I needed to know about getting pregnant in junior high.  Turns out…I was wrong!

As I sit at Café Express, typing away on my keyboard and listening to the expectant moms next to me talk about the joys of babies and pregnancy, I realize I have to get out of here before I stab someone. Let me justify my hostility by saying I started my period yesterday.  So not only am I disappointed at the fact there’s no baby, but I’m also crazy hormonal! Turns out this isn’t the best place to think and write, as there are too many moms out there with nothing to do all day.  Oh wait…

Maybe I should have been a teenage, high school drop-out.  Or maybe I should just go back to being single, drunk and stupid.  Then I could get pregnant again.  Sigh. If someone could tell my uterus that I’m not a teenager and not middle-aged, and to stop rebelling,  that would be great.  Get your shit together uterus!  I’m a college-educated, 30-something with a loving husband and stable home, and apparently that makes me least likely to have a baby.  Why is it that when you’re not trying to get pregnant, all you have to do is dress in a slutty Halloween costume, get drunk, and have unprotected sex ONCE?! (yes, that is how my first child was conceived)  But nowadays it seems my ovaries are like the Sahara Desert and my uterus is giving me the middle finger!  I hate people who say “trying to get pregnant is the fun part.”. You’ve obviously never TRIED to get pregnant, or are extremely fertile.  If practice makes perfect, our child will be flawless.

Ah, and then comes the advice.  You mean I can get pregnant just by having sex?  Well damn, I never thought of that!  Oh, I should just adopt?  Why yes, I do have $50,000 just sitting in my bank account.  Why didn’t I think of that before?! Or, have you tried an all Paleo diet?  How about Gluten-free? Or vegan?  Or essential oils?  Why don’t you just relax? (that’s my favorite) Have you had any testing? (yes, and nothing says “good day” like a trans- vaginal ultrasound) I know people mean well but believe me, these things have already crossed my mind!

Maybe I’m  not infertile, I’m just clueless. NPR recently ran a story with a study that showed nearly 60% of women are wrong about what time of the month is best to get – or avoid getting- pregnant.  Needless to say, that does not boost my confidence.  I am doing all I can.  I have recently started using the Glow app to track my ovulation.  It sure asks a lot of personal questions and has me checking things I could have gone my whole life not knowing about!  Every day a list of things to do.  Check cervical mucus.  Um, ok.  Apparently that matters.  Cervical position?  Don’t even know how to figure that out.  Did I have sex?  If so, what position?  After I enter THAT personal info, it then tells me position doesn’t matter. Then why did you ask?! (Note, I tell my husband it matters so I can be on bottom). And my favorite, check basal body temperature first thing in the morning.  Hey Glow, let me tell you what my mornings consist of:  The alarm goes off, I hit snooze.  I hit snooze again.  And again. Then I jump out of bed realizing I have about 20 minutes to get my kid up and ready for school.  Then comes the frenzy.  I usually don’t even pee.  Nowhere in that mess will I remember to take my temperature.  I’m lucky I remember my own name in the mornings.

Then comes the waiting.  I’ll tell you, the anticipation I felt as a child of 8 waiting for Christmas morning is nothing compared to the anticipation of waiting the obligatory number of days before taking a pregnancy test.  And then waiting 3 minutes for the result.  I walk around trying to distract myself, all the while knowing I need to see those 2 lines or I’m gonna cry.  Then comes one line, basically screaming at me “Hey, you’re NOT PREGNANT!”. And then I just want to put that test down the garbage disposal or something! Then I think I’ll never get pregnant the old-fashioned way.  I’m seriously worried at this point our ability to procreate may depend entirely on our bank account balance.

Sometimes I think this is God’s way of telling me one is enough.  Being diabetic and pregnant is no picnic.  My first pregnancy was so difficult.  And my child was a preemie and has a birth defect.  We have all struggled so much.  Maybe I don’t need to go through all that again.  But then I imagine holding a precious baby boy (wishful thinking) in my arms, and I know that all of this will have been worth it.  I think my goal for now is to stop trying to plan and calculate everything (not that timed intercourse isn’t sexy) and just let nature take its course.  What’s meant to be will be. (I guess)

For now though, I’m gonna go enjoy some alcohol and chocolate since I know I’m not pregnant.  I hope you all have a fantastic week, and hopefully I will be announcing a BUN in the oven soon!