The wild night in bed with my husband and all his ladies....

                Yet another day is upon us, a work day….as if any of the others count. I haven’t slept at all for the past 2 nights as we have had too many visitors in our bed. I’m ok with just one or 2 extra ladies ;) but when there are so many that I’m using a cabbage patch as a pillow…. It has gone too far. I said last night, one baby Abigail and I know for a fact there were more.

          The night before I knew we were having a bed party and I foolishly  thought that once she went to sleep I could throw their cold hard heads out into the floor (yes, I’m going to throw my daughters children out into the floor, my very own grandchildren) but that did not happen. Early on in our night she decided to vomit in the bed and I recognized what was about to happen and let her vomit in my hands…just to save the sheets. How sad is that? But on a good note, she only did it once and I wasn’t up changing sheets all night! I just took the trusty vomit pan labeled CHARLEIGH JOE to the bed with us.

          Yes, just in case you are wondering everyone in my home has their own vomit pan because when it really hits, you don’t want to wait on the receptacle… I began doing this when there were 4 of us. Nice calligraphy, Cooper and Charleigh Joe decorated theirs with stickers. Fuck you Pinterest, where you at on that one?

          I’m sitting on the couch typing away while there is a party of strange women sleeping in my bed. I don’t really care either. They are just cold headed, rough haired tramps. They will sleep anywhere and with anyone, so if he falls for it and cuddles up…whatever.

          I sure hope work goes well. I almost typed in “good” just to make the grammar Nazi’s fire up. 10 hours can really get to you and I think we have several cases today. Hopefully my friend Nate can show me some Cross fit surgery moves……

 

Welcome to the Gunshow!

What is it about those people who are constantly working out? What is wrong with you! No one does that, it’s not normal. Trust me, I know what abnormal is. I work among those who are constantly working out. It is awkward.

I just have never gotten the need to push, pull, and run for fun. Although my job change has caused some internal shuffling to be going on. When you are constantly positioning and washing overweight people (that are not you) and you see where they missed…… It can change how you feel about your own body. BIG TIME.

Another consideration is the fact I work in heart surgery. I am assisting with the chronic “biscuit and gravy poisoning” that is at an epidemic in the South. It has once or twice affected my choice in lunch. I wish I could have "that" case that affects every meal that I chose.

Back to the main part of my story…..

So all these people who are working out and sculpting their physique to Michelangelo’s standards, they are often times accused of not using their guns for everyday work. See picture below.

 

 

Anyway, while those body boy scouts are all taking the trash to the end of the driveway with their cars……

 

I have had tons of suggestions of where I can wear my full length coat. Some have been to Wal Mart in my PJ’s and others have suggested a Republican Convention, but the one I’m satisfied is perfect event to share my glory…. the Cunanan-Duke wedding! I have the perfect fascinator hat to go with it!

I’ll show them who is classy!  I’ll look like the demon bear from the movie Brave (which I watch every single night of my life because Charleigh Joe wants to). I hope no one tries to shoot me as I’m taking the extreme measure of wearing this coat during one of the many various hunting seasons. I’m literally risking my life to go to this wedding looking classy as a big bear can!

Where SHOULD one wear a fur coat?

So, do you have that one piece of jewelry or clothing that you have for that "one" occasion. The one that never comes up?

I am the proud owner of a full length mink coat, courtesy of one of my best friends cousin's divorce. Let me rephrase, my friends cousin was divorcing his wife and she must have been fat too. She had good taste and he took her fur coat to be an ass. He took it to his cousin, my friend, for her dogs to sleep on.

She immediately though of me (because I'm so damn classy) to bring this coat to. 

Where would one even wear a fur coat? I loaned it to a local church last year for a Christmas play (I have no idea which part it played) but I can't think of one single place I could wear this. I go to work, home, grocery store, gas station, etc. No where that requires formal attire and I'm sure if I wore it to any of these places they would probably call the police on me.

So what to do? Do I keep this just in case Prince William and Lady Katherine invite me over for a New Year's Eve celebration or do I just give it to Goodwill and regret it forever?

Chances are I'll keep the damn thing "just in case".I have a whole closet full of "maybe I'll need a formal, maybe I'll lose weight, maybe I'll need full leather chaps"....I hope that I'm not the only person who does this otherwise, I have just "outed" myself as a closet hoarder.

I have been so busy at work this week, I don't even remember going to bed last night. Therefore I have not spoken to my friends or my mother all week. This could be bad. I don't know if Oprah (our elderly black lab) has been fed, the birds have food and water, the children are all accounted for, or anything else men seem to "forget". But I'm sure we have toilet paper. That is the one item my husband never forgets.

I'm sure that everything is fine (I say that but I still counted heads).

I have decided to try exposure therapy and take a trip. Any of you who know me personally understand that this is HUGE. I have the worst case of travel anxiety in the world..

I get all sweaty and have to shit about 38 times before we leave (if I haven't already found a way to get out of my obligation) and by the time we are already on board and committed... that's when the fun really begins.

I start out with a chin quiver when I realize I need the seat belt extension (the flight attendants are such bitches about them, you'd think they were in the video game case at Wal Mart and by the time we start to taxi down and the engines fire up..so do I.

The tears start uncontrollably SHOOTING out of my eyes. It is very hard on me, and I'm sure anyone around me. I once had a gentleman ask to change seats because I was upsetting him so much, what an ass hole. Bless his heart.

I don't know why it affects  (grammar police let me know if this is the correct use) me so, I am a rational, intelligent adult. The statistics show that you are more likely to die in a car accident than in a plane accident but I still can't stop crying. I understand that these pilots and such are professionals not just dumb asses off the street. I can't control it.  I don't know why I think I'm important enough to be "the one" with a plane issue.

Maybe they know about the fur coat......

ISO: Anyone to please monitor their home computers!

So, I'm sure everyone is familiar with the buy, trade, and sell sites that exist. I'm addicted to reading the ads because some of them are so ridiculous. I'm reading some looking at the ISO ads on a daily basis. Not because I have something to BTS, but because of the humor of the situation.

Some fool is asking for a free smartphone, which is only topped by the ad inquiring who sold stamps. What kind of dumbasses are actually able to log onto sites unsupervised? Its like a bunch of tweens prank calling asking if your refrigerator is running. What kind of people are out there....

Then I come to the sex ads and I'm amazed at the peoples postings inquiring for various sex acts. It took me a minute to get the lingo (NSA,JO, etc.) but I soon found myself delving deep into the sites looking for anyone that I knew....Because a lot of the dumbasses put their pictures on the site.

Full frontal nudity. WOW. No photo shopping, just all pink, stretch marks and skin imperfections and all. Not very many civilians look really fetching with their natural bodies in unflattering light. The shots into the bathroom mirror are still my favorite, with the flash on their government cell phone shining. They seemed so unabashed and dare I say it, entitled. As if they all had daybeds when they were in high school.

I was really shocked at first, the measurements that are obviously mistyped in the metric system unless 8 inches has somehow changed. The lewd comments and misspelled words are hilarious. They still had standards though, only good looking and "fit" people are to respond. As if "fit" (whether body or mind) would go looking for sex on a BTS website in their own town.

I live in a relatively small community and the small amount of information and pictures usually paint a pretty good picture. I also like looking at the items in the background, like dirty toilets or medication bottles. As is I'm looking to hook up with someone who is living in their mothers basement, for free.

Now for the right amount of money I will let you call me mama, nurse you, give you a bath, and change your diaper, but you must provide your own diapers or its an extra charge.

Just look for the keywords MaryKay......

Nursing was meant for me!

One of the benefits of working in the medical field is definitely some of the situations you get to see. Not necessarily dealing with actual patient care, but to see how and what people think is acceptable.

I have worked in a hospital since 1992, and a lot sure has changed or at least I think so. One thing that has not changed is the fact if you don't laugh, you'd cry.

In all the years I have worked, there are some things that remain the same.

• All security guards are either so old they are at risk for breaking a hip, or they are too young to buy a beer.

• The lunch room ladies are the nicest people in the place.

• There is always one nurse who is always pregnant.

• There is always one patient you WISH would sign out against medical advice.

• You can love someone and yet hate to work with them

• The mispronunciations are almost worth working for free!

• It is possible to hurt your back helping a 80lb old woman to the bedside commode (not realizing she is dragging the bedside table with you)

I say this because I have had some great laughs at the descriptions and explanations I have heard over the years.

• I have had a woman tell me something was  with her penis.....

• A woman who was going through the minnow pond (menopause)

• When your patient refers to their med by its street name, they probably didn't get it by prescription eg. Hydro's or Xanax bars

• When list Haldol (antipsychotic) as an allergy but deny any psychiatric problems, I'm probably not going to believe you.

• When you list EVERYTHING as an allergy, I know you are psych

• When you list NSAIDS, Tylenol, Codeine,Hydrocodone, Oxycodone as allergies, I know you want Dilaudid....

 

• When you rate your pain 10/10 while you are crushing candy, I don't believe you. ...

• I know you set your cell phone alarm to remind you every 4 hours to call for your pain medication....

• I know when you are taking your 4th shower for the day you are smoking in the bathroom....

• People will shit in just about anything, the bed, the trash can, the sink, etc. (not kidding)

• The biggest motivator to get some people out of bed are the 2 N's (nicotine and narcotics)..thanks mom

I don't know why after all these years I still think of these things and am amazed at the audacity of some of our patients. But still, I love my career. I have gotten quite attached to some of these patients despite it all. I was meant for this, and I proudly wear my badge.

Parachute pants and mullets, all that life is made of...

Here I am, up and ready to go to work. Oh, but wait, I have Mary Kay orders to package and get ready. I work full time, take call, go to school full time and sell Mary Kay. This is just about what it takes me to keep shoes on, and teeth in these kids, all 4 of them.

I told them a long time ago that I wasn't smart enough to make those 2 liter flip flops on Pinterest. We save money where we can.

We do pretty well on what I make. I made a vow to my lover that I will always keep. I wanted a stay at home dad, and that is exactly what I wanted.

My children understand most of the time. I know they understand how hard I try. Do they know what it's like to struggle, or do I actually want them too?  This brings me to a story.

A long time ago when Wyatt (10y/o) was around 3 or 4, I had picked him up from daycare and as I was driving home he ask me for an ice cream from Dairy Queen. I was exhausted and broke, driving on fumes and only conscious because I cannot sleep sitting up. I told him no, we didn't have any money.  He paused and tipped his head before he calmly replied, "I'm tired of never havin' no fuckin' money." I was shocked but I have made a point of never punishing the children if they complain about something legitimate and that day I also made the decision not to punish if they curse and it is in context.

When I was their age I had no idea about video games or computers. Internet had not been invented and the only computer game I was ever exposed to was Oregon Trail. Things like renting a VCR for your birthday were commonplace and you had the option of Beta or VHS. For the younger generation its the difference between a regular DVD and a HD BluRay DVD, that was the size of a Buick.

 My social life consisted of combing my perfect mullet (yes, 7th grade and it was hot) and dreaming of getting my teeth fixed. Yep, I was a dreamer.

I know now you are remembering your mullet days. Laugh all you want but everyone that was cool in my generation had a mullet, and a pair of parachute pants. I was not cool enough for those, but I did have one pair of "jam" shorts. These are all worthless terms to those who did not grow up in the same era as I did, but I will try to explain.

Parachute pants were pants made of some type of material that just emanated cool. They signified that you were untouchable, and not to be messed with. It also came with social responsibilities of keeping the dream alive. The kids who had parachute pants and jelly shoes were the kids that eventually grew into their daybeds. Those that were exceptionally cool had both parachute pants and a Michael Jackson jacket to accentuate their permed mullets. Only one or two ever crossed this girls path.....

These are the same kids who played ball and thought I was funny. They invited me into their groups as the jester and now I know now they did me a favor. I developed my keen sense of humor, they must have realized parachute pants wouldn't come in a 2XL.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parachutepant

Only 98 days til Christmas!

There was a reason Black Friday was created, and contrary to popular belief it was not a retailers idea. It was a run down mothers idea. To combine MMA for holiday stress relief and get something else accomplished. To make the small people happy. 

When someone tells me how many days left until Christmas I want to tell then to fuck off. I'm doing the best I can living day to day and I don't need any extra pressure.

 How does retail chains know what will be the "it" items, they don't. They know there will be soccer moms who are sick of their in laws just looking for a fight. 

Some stores in my area are more prone to brawls than other ones such as Kohls. I think that the length of time you must wait in line directly correlates to your anger and aggression level. I always start at Kohls. If I'm going to get it on... I want to be fresh. I will STOMP your ass if you push me. I will wait my turn but I will not be pushed. 

Several years ago, I was patiently waiting at Wal Mart for the 25$ bikes and had been there for hours. As time grew nearer, more people just wandered over and went to the front of the line. I kindly ask the security guard on duty to address the line jackers. He informed me that there was nothing he could do about it. 

I made a decision at that moment....I would not be that girl who was ran over and pushed around. I reached into my purse and pulled out 2 items. A cigarette lighter and a long fresh menthol, a Kool 100 and I lit it. 

As I was slowly blowing the smoke out the same security guard came hauling his ass back over to me to TELL ME to put it out. I kindly reminded him that he couldn't do anything about it. I did however offer him a solution. If he would take care of the line jumpers I would be happy to extinguish my square. 

Again he told me there was nothing he could do about that. In the background all of the other ladies that had been patiently waiting made a decision, I heard the click of cases and zips of lighters as they joined my protest in smoke. 

When Boss Hog saw he was losing the war, be decided to do the right thing. Once all the jumpers were in their rightful spot, my posse of ladies all put out their smokes as we had agreed. 

We made decisions and made a situation right. He made the right move as we were already discussing our next move. 

We got our bikes that year, and the small people at my house were happy again. 

For the time.

Now you know real origin of Black Friday.    Don't fucking tell me how many days until  Christmas, I KNOW..... 

Weekend from Hell, saved by Billie Lou!

I can't wait to get back to work. This place is crazy!

So, Jeremy was sick all week and I finally agreed he should go to the doctor. I felt like a total failure when I looked in his throat, I don't know how the poor man was breathing. He is a mouth breather, we discovered it early on and had surgery to correct it which went horribly wrong. He will not entertain any more treatment.

We chose to go to our faithful Billie Lou and she agreed he needed immediate treatment and gave him 2 shots and oral medications to start the next day. Whew, no one else was sick, yet. Charleigh Joe vomited at the dr's office and from there it went spinning out of control.

Jeremy was feeling much better by the afternoon and we sat down and talked while I cut up a small pineapple. I ended up eating nearly the whole thing.....I woke up around midnight and knew it was about to go down. Yes, I got the stomach virus.

How do you know which end you should put in the toilet? I always choose bottom to toilet and gown, trash can, old purse for the vomit. I'd much rather clean up vomit than shit. I vomited up Hawaii, all night long and what little must have made it thorough my digestive tract was like magma.  I was so sick. Jeremy rolled over and looked at me and went back to sleep.

This continued all night long, and in the morning Jeremy informed me that Charleigh Joe was sick as well and had a temperature of 104. Great, I've not had a bath (wow, didn't see that one coming huh) and just as I tried to remain orthostatically correct, I heard it. The dumping of a 5 gallon bucket of partially digested food into the boys bathroom. 

Matthew was sick as well and when he vomits, it is for REAL. I have never saw so much vomit come out of one persons stomach as Matthew's. It is unreal, but he is a great shot. Nothing but net, for that playa.

Thankfully when Jeremy was at the doctors office on Friday, Billie Lou called in some topical Phenergan for Charleigh Joe. Everyone had some. It was horrible. No one really stirred until today and it was a weak day spent replenishing lost electrolytes and re evaluating what went wrong.

Poor Jeremy was the only survivor of the stomach virus and he volunteered for decontamination duty.  He is a good man. He got us Gatorade, sprite, crackers, and kept our buckets emptied.

I hope this is the end, but with 4 children going to 4 different schools and 1of them a rhesus monkey (no official papers), I doubt this is the end.

Anyway, the nice sterile environment of work is seeming quite appealing right now. I am so happy to be on the mend with cases posted in the morning.

Billie Lou, you are my hero. You saved all our lives this weekend, I hope someday to return the favor.

Shit and Boobs....a tale of my day

My two year old just brought her daddy a handful of poop. He was unfortunately not fast enough to realize his prize until he had accepted the gift of feces.

Oh the joys of raising kids. My husband dutifully took her to the bathroom and cleaned her up, all the while muttering obscenities a stream Ralphies father couldn't handle. He is an excellent father. I am sure of it, I just hope he doesn't leave me. Mama has assured me that if he leaves, she will follow. Apparently she feels as if I'm difficult...

I had a pleasant day at work, I got to see a couple people I had not seen in awhile. I also wore a nice bra. It feels great to have your breast lifted AND separated. It makes you feel like an attractive woman instead of a walking vagina. I just ordered some new bras and I am trying to figure out which ones are for what.

Men will have no concept of what I am talking about. Some bras are for work, some for around the house, some for special occasions ( high school reunions, not sex), etc. The fit and comfort level determines the use of the bra. The more comfortable, usually the less attractive your bust will look. For example, the sports bra (I hate this so-called form of breast restraint) creates the UniBoob. I despise that look and on the other hand, the missile grade lift and separate is usually not comfortable enough for work.

Perhaps they should substitute the word "gun" or "golf club" for bra. That would make it simpler for them to understand. They all get that concept.

Important information regarding eating boogers.

Alas all of the things we hate are here to give us pause and remind us of the good things in life that we perhaps may not give enough appreciation. Let me give you an example, Randy Travis. Who has heard anything about him since he wrecked his Firebird and ran naked through the 7-Eleven? Sure we heard about his fights in the church parking lot (2 incidents I believe) but only lately heard that he was sick. Nothing more!!!

Randy if you read my blog, I sure hope you're doing better. My good friend Billie Lou mailed you a card during your illness that was signed by lots of fans, and she also had a "Forever and ever, Amen" sun visor custom made for her car. Friends like Billie Lou and  Classics like "Digging up bones" are things we should be more appreciative of. 

Does anyone really value silence anymore?

I know that a statement like that coming from me is quite unusual. Yesterday was one of those days that I really did not want to hear about anything unless it pertained to the cases or friendly chat. I did not look at Facebook. It was one of those days that 12 years ago changed all of our lives and I did not want to re live it as it played over and over in the news, on ever channel, all day long.

I am one of those people who are scarred, not just by that but by a lot of things. I deflect problems with humor and distraction. Yesterday was a bad day and I couldn't distract myself. Every time I wrote the date it started up in my head.

I did finally turn on the TV about 8:00pm and watch the season premiere of Boardwalk Empire. Whoever does the hair and makeup on that show is awesome because who ever thought Steve Buscemi was human, let alone a  handsome man as he plays Nucky Thompson.

I LOVE THIS SHOW! I cannot tell you that enough. It was the only highlight of my day yesterday. I didn't get to watch it Sunday night so I DVRed (*sp?).

Place the black stripe across my door, my household is contaminated.

 As of right now 9/12/2013, I have 2 members of the Neville Clan that are sick. Jeremy is drooling on himself because he cannot swallow and has a 103 degree temperature and Charleigh Joe is now vomiting. Did I mention its 4am? Children do not vomit unless it is dark outside, or they are at school.

It seems as if the flu has already begun before the first evening of fire pit, before the first frost, or even a single leave has begun to change. SHIT. This could be bad. For the average household of 2 parents and 2 children, usually one adult and one child or both children make a visit to the doctor for the flu. Our average is 5/6 people in this home will have the flu. Two years ago we actually had 6/6 visits as Cooper actually obtained Strain A and B on separate occasions.

We have our own Rhesus monkey, and all of this house complains when I make them get their free flu shot. Our copay is 25 dollars for an office visit, so multiply that number times 5/6 residents. That equals 125.00.

Now we need to medicate, the drug of choice is Tamiflu which after our insurance pays, our copay is around 65.00 times 5 people equals 325.00. Now add in the cost of electrolyte replenishing fluids, Tylenol and Motrin, etc. for around 20.00.

Lets add it up: 125.00+325.00+20.00=470.00. That is not counting the daycare bill that I get charged for when Charleigh Joe is not in attendance or the full days of lost wages when Jeremy is stricken down with the plague and I cannot work due to handling the things he normally handles while I am working.

My washer and dryer will be running night and day cleaning the linens of the microbes that are causing my family and checking account to sicken. Oh and my oldest, the germaphobe, will only be coming out of his room late at night to sneak something to eat and wash his hands. I won't see Matthew for days. I won't be able to keep Cooper and Wyatt's fingers out their noses long enough to warn them the flu is upon us an stress the importance of washing their hands. I hate flu season.

 The moral of the story, WASH YOUR HANDS and don't eat boogers. Not even your own. Anyone wishing to contribute funds to the Sara Joe household can send me a message and I will let you know how to send funds!

 Jeremy and I have been painting the kitchen and living room as the walls are dirty from the floor up to around 4 feet high which is surprisingly the same heights as our 3 youngest children. I wonder if....I would rather go to jail than paint. I would rather go to prison than remove wallpaper.

I despise painting but it can really freshen up a room. I cannot get it through my head that despite the fact I really try to keep these children clean, the walls get dirty.  Dirty walls MUST mean dirty kids. There is no other explanation.

I must be a failure. I will add that to the list right behind I cannot make homemade biscuits(not good ones anyway), I cannot fold a fitted sheet ( I believe only witches can), I cannot order a fancy coffee, etc.

I will never get the whole scented candle and fancy coffee trend. Don't get me wrong, I drink one every now and then but the way in which that franchise took off was nuts. Every young, trendy person in the world was ordering nonfat, soy, tall shit and I had no idea how to do that. I just go to McD and order a fancy coffee there where they use terms like large and coffee.

 I don't remember bottled water til around 2000? Whats up with that? It made its appearance around the millennium when the original "Doomsday Preppers" made their appearance. I had an aunt who had a shed full of food and water. I will never understand that. She had flashlights and batteries, everything you could possibly think of, even scented candles. I bet she is still eating canned carrots.

 I had an old flame tell me once that if women did not exist, scented candle would not exist and every now and then I think about that. He was right. The only explanation that I can think of is that women react to smells differently than men. Otherwise nothing would be scented.

 I am not a fan of scented candles, lotions, potions, etc. I don't feel the need to smell Fresh Linen or Cinnamon Rolls emanating from my living room or dining room, unless some bitch is folding clothes or cooking a dessert.

I went and got my nails done and got waxed. I'm going through some sort of weird phase where I'm developing adult onset acne combined with a full beard. It really helps throw people off of your actual age. That combined with my weight issue has really thrown off my game. At least I could look decent and "have such a pretty face". I guess I'll have to rely on my "good personality" until then.

The woman who does my nails was asking how old I was, I replied "old enough to not answer." This only lead her to make me guess her age. Now, this is a bullshit question as Asian people do not age. She could be 104 for all I know, but she looks good. Not a wrinkle one. Great. Flawless skin, no wrinkles, a tight body, can talk about others right to their face without having to say "Bless your heart", another thing to add to my failure list.

I've decided that given the choice, I would sport a Fu Manchu moustache if my face would just clear up.  I love getting pampered but you know the whole time they are talking about you in Asian. I say Asian because I don't know their origin and I would think it rude to ask.

The have their license up and it may say MeeKu Hukaweei and they go by Amy. I don't know but they sure can do nails. It makes me so uncomfortable though to know that you are the subject of conversation makes you so paranoid. You start to wonder what is so notable that they just can't stand not jabbering back and forth with each other. They can't even wait until they get to the break room or you leave. I'll see them in another 2 weeks and eventually maybe I will catch on.

I have a busy day at work planned tomorrow. I hope it goes as well. Maybe in the morning I'll stop and get me one of those fancy coffee's to get me going.

Just as a side note, please settle an argument. My oldest son, Matthew and I disagree on the best drum solo and drop. Please leave your votes in the comments section:
1.  Night Ranger- Sister Christian
2.  Rush-  Tom Sawyer

Aren't you feeling a might peckish?

So it was pointed out to me that perhaps some people will not understand one of my previous posts. I am a woman of larger proportions, a "Plus Size" gal if you must.

I was out yesterday with my 2nd son Wyatt, and my daughter Charleigh Joe shopping . My accompanying son ask me if I was feeling a bit peckish, I laughed on the inside because I wonder how many people know that word......and of those who do, use it. Only the son of a BBW would ever make that statement.

I went in to our local Maurices (Cookeville) as this is really the only place any woman of size and under 60 can purchase anything stylish in my area. I spoke with the manager  of the lack of larger sizes in stock and she was very nice and explained to me that corporate is the one who regulates their par levels of what they get. If a larger size is  consistently being ordered, they will increase the par level of that size.

On behalf of every BBW, I ordered. I encourage all my fellow BBW to do the same so that we can get a larger selection of clothing, NO WOMAN SHOULD HAVE TO WEAR A WINNIE THE POOH SHIRT, EVER!

If you're not a BBW, let me tell you about our options, there is always the 3 staple t-shirts (Winnie the Pooh with his hand in the honey pot and the traditional bird house or the rare find the cat playing with a ball of yarn).I believe they are age coordinated and surely you can understand which is for the younger generation and the older generation.....but, never mind.

I REFUSE TO DRESS LIKE AN OLD LADY OR THE CAT LADY, I'll wear a uniform everywhere and act like I'm on call before I do that.  Oh, and trying to find something to wear to a funeral or wedding? FORGET IT, you are screwed unless you can borrow a piece from another to mix and match your outfit.

I know what you're thinking, why do you care about what you wear to a funeral or a wedding, right? Let me break it down for you (obviously thin people). All of the attention should be to the bride. Correct,  but that same bride will eventually look at pictures and realize she had the local cover band for Duck Dynasty at her wedding. As for the funeral, out of respect for the dead I don't think a Winnie the Pooh t-shirt is appropriate to send someone to their eternal home in.

 I don't understand why this is such a big deal. I think it should even itself out at some point but fuck, its still going on. Why must I have to search to find fashionable wear when the population under a size 14 practically have clothes running towards them jumping into their baskets. A recent study has found that the majority of women in America are a size 14 or larger, I agree with these findings. I don't know why the larger retail (not Walmart) don't understand that younger plus size women want to dress stylish as well.

As for me, I'm sticking with Maurices, who has consistently done me well, and their manager is so nice and helpful with my plight.

Don't even get me started on the search for my insides or lingerie as you may call them. Navy Seals team 6 couldn't find decent lingerie in my size locally or even with extensive search online. Only the savvy BBW knows where to go online for that. Otherwise, you'd have a drawer full of white, all cotton granny panties that come up OVER my boobs or loose lacy crotchless panties only in true red or black, because that looks great with my skin tone and cellulite.....


I guess its something that is a slow process, but it seems slower than waiting for that HOT sign to come on at the Krispy Kreme. Writing this blog seems to have left me a bit peckish....

Throwback: I've been to Hell, I'm not scared....

Because I have been relating only new happenings, I'm gonna go throwback on ya. We will travel back to 2003 when my 2nd child was born.

 My ex-husband and I did not know the sex of the baby and I was so excited. I knew this child was a girl. Her name would be Vivian, and she would be beautiful. I packed a single pink outfit that I had purchased and wrote Vivian over and over again like a love stuck teenage girl.

 I had a relatively uneventful labor with Pitocin (should be banned in human use without first administering Propofol). When my water was broken later that night (to those who don't know, that's when shit gets real) I had a prolapsed cord and went to the OR emergently. My ex-husband went out to smoke. I can't believe we couldn't work it out... Another story.I was lying there intent on seeing my daughter for the first time, and then the child was out and held over the drapes for me to see...

 It was a boy, and he promptly pissed all over my paralyzed, numb body. It really hasn't changed any since.

 He was absolutely the worst infant in the history of time. He cried nonstop for hours on end. He was as stiff as a porpoise trying to nurse. I had enough milk for him, my coffee, and cereal and I couldn't get him to latch on. My breasts swelled to enormous proportions (they are normally a 44H) and I was in misery. I took hot showers, hand expressed milk, used cabbage leaves to ease my misery, and eventually I could get him to latch on.

 My mother stayed with me at the house for a few days and we decided to take shifts through the night with me sleeping the first few hours after nursing and then her the next. I soon began to realize that he woke up just after my shift has started.  I couldn't take it anymore and after I fed him, I slowly put him to bed and prayed it was over for an hour or two. I then climbed on a chair and rolled the clock back to 10 minutes before he normally woke up through the night.

The next night I anticipated his cry, I walked into the living room and caught my mother looking at the clock in disbelief, she couldn't believe that it was still her turn. I went back to bed and slept for a few more hours. She never caught on the whole time that she stayed and it was only a few years ago that I actually told her what I'd done.

His colic went on for months, I tried nursing him with my cannons and then went on to try him on every formula available in the continental US without luck. I had him at a well baby check and I ask the doctor about Paregoric. He informed me that Paregoric was morphine and they don't give that to babies anymore. I ask him how much Paregoric, a 200lb baby would take because if he couldn't sleep, why couldn't I?

I love children very much and would expand my family if I could, and every once in a while I get the opportunity to hold and nurture a little one again but I know why they find babies in dumpsters. 

Bless your heart: The Southern woman's guide to Fuck you....

So, I just got home from work and I am so exhausted. I came home and Jeremy met me at the car ready to carry my things and he had my supper plate ready. He's so good to me.

The kids are in bed and I will be soon, right after I give everyone a lesson on the Southern Belle's guide to talking about another female. Its the "Bless your heart" method.  Any self respecting Southern woman is taught this from an early age from listening to their grandmothers and mothers gossip about their peers.

 It is a well know fact that you can say horrible things about someone and even to their best friend, just as long as you add the disclaimer, "Bless her heart". For some reason it makes the statement one of empathy and understanding. For instance, "Jeri Lynn smells like ass and cat food, bless her heart." That last part makes it OK to say horrible things about Jeri Lynn.

Just today, a friend and co-worker was venting about a friend of her families and she was quite angry. She was angry enough to swear, which is unlike her. I listened intently and let her vent as sometimes it truly helps, and sometimes you just need to listen and nod. She told me how horrible this person was, how judgemental she was giving me examples to explain her rationale and then she said:

Jess: "She's one of those with back pain and on disability."
I nodded, listening while continuing my work and she continued

Jess: "I'll tell you what's wrong with her, she's fat and lazy!"
I keep listening the way a good friend does, and she looks me right in the face and throws her hand up and says,

Jess: "But you're not lazy."

I didn't even get a "Bless your heart"! She immediately realized what she had done and we all got a laugh out of it.

I hope she doesn't get mad when she sees the word BITCH carved out on her car with a key, bless her heart.

I am beginning to think its following me.....

So, as some of you know I am an adult college student (again). You know, that older lady who sits in class and writes down everything, doesn't know how to use her smart phone, and brings everybody snacks? Yeah, that's me.

 This semester I have all of my classes online and I'm not the oldest one in class, and I don't have to bring bags of pretzels to everyone. Well, just like everyone else, money is tight. I borrowed a textbook from a friend for one of my online classes so I didn't have to buy it and guess what....it smelled like urine. Yes, the end product of micturation.

 I'm beginning to think this is not a coincidence. Perhaps I smell like urine, and no one has told me. I do have 4 children and can't sneeze without pissing myself. Perhaps I pissed on the book in an Ambien haze, I have no idea but it smells like a cat box.

I have plans to have breakfast again with my friends Nick and Blair (the ones who stood me up last time) again in the morning before work at 4am.I sure hope they make it this time, I sure don't want to have breakfast with Sid the Science Kid (uni bomber) again. She has assured me they will be there. I want to hope so. I'll recognize that Grand Prix in the parking lot and I will not go in until they arrive. I cannot expose myself twice to that kind of danger.

 I'm watching Brave (again) with the two youngest at my side. It's the night before payday and I'm making out the bills, I believe.....yes, I'm still broke. I don't know why I was born so damn good looking instead of rich or a Kennedy.

I mean, have you ever heard of the Kennedy who was on food stamps? The one who sits in the welfare office and says  "We don't have kids we have dogs"? It doesn't happen. Yeah I know about the curse and all. I mean, perhaps the Kennedy's would think the smell of urine following your broke ass around was a curse?

It's all relative and I'm stuck in the dream.

No accidents at daycare! That's my girl.

Have you ever just known you were with the perfect man? Even if that man is dancing in the kitchen with a diaper on his head acting like a George Washington? He knows how much the news upsets me but he knew that I would appreciate how dry our Senate hearings were as compared to the British Parliament. He described their proceedings as a fire pit and beer away from a good time.That's my Jeremy. He is so patient and loving, and we share the same wicked sense of humor so I don't feel so alone.

 I picked up Charleigh Joe after a long and painful day at work and her teacher announced that she had been accident free all day! WOO HOO!

 Not really, my kids wait until the get home to show their ass. I can't believe my floor has not rotted out yet. Even Cooper (who has been potty trained for years)  had occasionally pissed in the floor lately. I'm convinced that if there were any large game cats around they would most certainly tried to cover up my house. Its like having puppies, that have Social Security numbers, and you are legally responsible for. The doctor tells us that is his ADHD, yeah no shit. You can crate a puppy or pen it up outside, but don't try it with a kid (really, I've already been warned, they mean it).

 I truly love these kids but I swear they can hear carbonation being poured, like a drunk to the hiss of a can of beer, they are there. Sneaking my drink, pissing in the floor and I'm to do nothing? That is why I write. I take this tiny few minutes out of my day I could be doing ab crunches and talk to whomever might be listening and ask for prayers. Prayers for them, me-FOR US.

 So I get a package delivered and Matthew is dying to open it (men love to open packages?) and so I said go ahead (of course knowing what it was). So he opens it up and lifts out these black lace undies and says "Are these panties for you" and I said "unless you want them". Needless to say he passed, there is something about holding your moms lacy panties that upsets any 16 year old boy.

Out of the package fell a small plastic package, he snatched it up with curiosity when I handed it to him. He quickly threw it down and washed his hands as if it was already used. The package was a sample of Horny Honey. As if just because I you wear panties you need this marital aid.

 I'll let you know how that works out and post the website if its positive if, and its a big if,  I can get past the ammonia smell emanating from the house.

As I sit at the table putting this down, Charleigh Joe has eaten her supper and mine, drank her drink and mine. Gosh.... I love her.

JUST CALM DOWN? DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE?

There are just times in life that you have to accept what has happened. I have done so but last night, I had to pull over and take a few deep breaths just to calm myself down. Here is my story.

 I had just returned from a baby shower and was driving through Monterey. I spotted the DQ and decided to pull in and get some ice cream for me and Charleigh Joe because we had just not eaten enough carbs at a baby shower. I ordered my usual Reeses pieces Blizzard and some soft serve for Charleigh Joe. I guarantee that I was in that drive thru for at least 20 minutes, I don't know if someone ordered a 20 piece chicken in the drive thru or what, but it sandwiched me between a Mustang and a Nissan truck where it was obvious there were some domestic issues going on.


 I kept thinking, surely we are about to move, and frankly the fumes from the Mustang and the couple behind me were about to take over. When I finally got to the window, I took my ice cream and left the tense situation. It wasn't for a few minutes that I realized my problem. They had given me the wrong Blizzard.

It was a Reeses cup Blizzard.  This is where I made my decision to just go with it. I had so been looking forward to the ice cream and now it was not what I ordered, should I go back? I thought about all I had went through to get it and decided to just forget it.

 My evening was ruined, I came home and started doing homework. I gave that unwanted Blizzard to Cooper who willingly took it, and was glad to be rid of it. I had to get the negativity out and think about the positive, the kids would go to back to school soon.

 Charleigh Joe has worn her white sandals all weekend, she wanted to make sure she got the use in use before Labor Day. My mother and I have differing views of this age old fashion law. She says that it is was old and she saw on GMA that it was outdated. I stick to the same thing I have ever known, no white after Labor Day.

Another first and as a side note, I was passed by a Porche Cayenne I-40 yesterday. I let him pass because I was late to the baby shower not because I couldn't take him. The red rocket is just that, a rocket. So Mr. more money than brains, if you wanna go, leave a comment with a place and time and I'll be there.