Mild Obsession With Toys

It all started the weekend after A's birthday. @kristencmcd and her crew met A and I for a movie date. We went to see Toy Story 3. I have to say, it was very surreal to watch this with my niece. Eleven years ago, when the first Toy Story came out, her mother was eleven. Yeah, let that simmer a bit.

A has been obsessed with anything Toy Story since the ending credits rolled. In the past ten days, she has managed to round up about as many items. I know it's probably spoiling her, but I would have loved to have had some of these items as a child.

I remember going to see The Lion King with an aunt on my dad's side when it came out. After the movie was over, I remember going with them to the store and seeing something with Simba on it and wishing so much I could have it.

So this is why I do it. I want her to feel that happiness I wish I could have felt, whether it's playing with her talking Jessie doll that drives me fucking crazy from the YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAWWWS, playing Toy Story Trouble, or eating and drinking Toy Story food.



I just realized I forgot she also has Toy Story bath bubbles.

The only downside to this happiness is wondering how long it will be before I get to experience this with our child. Infertility stings even during the most happiest of moments.

And The Search Is On

We're staying.
We're going.
No, we're staying.
No, we're going.
Oh, let's just stay.
Oh, fuck no, we're going.

We I have this debate every few weeks about staying in our current place or looking to find better. A few weeks ago we made the decision to stay where we are because the price is good and I was getting fed up with trying to find better. Plus, the school district for our address is the one we want A to attend when she starts Kindergarten next fall.

All was going well. I was content. Sort of. The best I could be. I stayed away from sites with listings and signs that said "FOR RENT". Things got even better when we found out our lease was sold. No more dealing with a bitch who is known around town as being a bitch to deal with.

A few weeks ago, I noticed a white car in the parking lot. I didn't think much of it until K brought it to my attention that it had been in the same spot for awhile with no tags. I was going to call the property manager about it but the day I remembered to call, the car was gone. I brushed it out of my mind until I saw the car reappear with two guys in it the same afternoon. I noticed they were hanging around our neighbor, but not only that, they were obviously smoking weed.

Now, before I go on, I do think pot should be legalized. I think we waste a lot of money on petty pot charges. Having said that, pot is currently illegal. And for the record, just because I think it should be legalized doesn't mean I want to smoke it. My four year old niece lives with me and I moved her away from Memph!s to get away from this type of lifestyle. I do not smoke cigs much less pot. I do not want to walk out of the front door of my house to be punched in the face by it. And before I start having drug deals going on in our parking lot, I decided to nip this shit in the bud. No pun intended.

One evening last week I dropped NYEBoy off at the house since I needed to run to the grocery store and he isn't exactly happy to go shopping with me. (Use his money to go on the shopping trips? Fine. Go shopping with me? Oh, hell no. Unless it's for electronics or books.) Shortly after dropping him off, he calls me to tell me the guys sitting on their car were smoking weed and talking with the neighbor. So, I did what any snitch responsible person would do, I called the cops. (BTW, Our neighbor has four kids. The last thing she needs around them is drugs, too.) Once I arrived back home, I noticed the cops outside, but didn't really make it obvious it was us who had called.

The next morning, I went outside to find my tomato plant that @kristencmcd gave me completely yanked out of the pot with soil all over the neighbors doormat. It was as if they were walking in or out of her house and decided to let me know they knew I called. (I'll admit, I'm sure we were the only ones they saw between dropping NYEBoy off at home and the cops arriving, but still. I don't want this shit at my house.) Later that afternoon, NYEBoy, A, and I were getting ready to leave when I saw an SUV pull up as I was checking my mail. As soon as I got back in the car, A pipped up that she needed to pee and I remembered I had forgot my apron for work. As I pulled back up, the guys who exited the SUV (same guys from day before) were walking to my neighbors door, but they saw me coming towards my door, so they turned around and walked to the side of the building. As soon as I got to our walkway, I smelled the pot.

I was pissed. I told NYEBoy we were going to go to the new property manager to see what we could do. Once we arrived we waited 15 mins for someone to unlock the door. I asked to speak with her in privacy. I explained our situation and she basically told me there was nothing to do but call the cops. I tried to ask about the two guys being allowed to hang out in the parking lot on their cars, smoking, all times of the day, and she basically just repeated the calling the cops line. Then she brushed me off saying she needed to show the lady in the other room a place.

As soon as I hit the door I yelled to NYEBoy that "This was IT. I'm DONE. I'm MOVING." NYEBoy wasn't happy. I won't go into details on my blog for his privacy, but for the record, HE DOESN'T WANT TO MOVE. He thinks I'm being unreasonable.

I started looking at places again. We have two weeks before we have to either resign the lease or prepare to move at the end of July. Talk about crunch time. I've looked at a few places, but so far, nothing has come close to acceptable.

We might have a back up plan, it's a 3 bedroom 3 bath we saw a few months ago. I'm not sure if the guy even has any more, but he owns nearly the whole street of duplexes so I assume he'll have at least one open up if we need it.

I have an appointment to see a place on Thursday that looks promising (don't they all). It's in the same school district. It has three bedrooms and two baths. Tons of kitchen space. Please send us good thoughts and prayers on Thursday around noon.

70 Days

Before moving to Fl0rida, I had only been to the beach once. It was the only real family vacation we ever took. We spent a week at the Gulf Coast. I wouldn't visit the beach (or gulf coast) again until last year.

Last year, NYEBoy and I took A to the beach for her first time (and my second time!). We had such a wonderful time. We've been back a few times since. We even took my brother when he was visiting us a few weeks ago.

I can't explain to you the feeling of sand between your toes for the first time. Or the smell of saltwater in the air. Or hearing and seeing the waves crash along the sand. Or watching the birds flying around you, taking dips in the water for their food. Or seeing dolphins, in their natural habitat.

I can't explain the feeling of seeing your niece see this for the first time. Or your sister getting to see the ocean for the second time. Or sitting in a beach chair beside your spouse wondering what it's going to be like to bring your children down here, too. I wonder if we'll ever get that moment.

It's been seventy days since the Deepwater Horizon explosion in the Gulf Coast. Seventy days with tens of thousands of barrels of oil spewing out from the Earth into this body of water that means so much to me, my family, and countless others. It's not just our memories, but many people's livelihoods. I heard on the news that a gentleman took his own life last week because of this. I broke my heart.

On top of the human aspect of this disaster, we're also dealing with the environmental damages. Our beaches and wetlands, and animals are being ruined and killed because of this. It breaks my heart to know oil is still being blasted into this precious body of water.




If you've been to the Gulf Coast before, please join me and over 100 other bloggers in sharing your stories about this beautiful water.



If you aren't able to help with the clean up, but still want to help, please feel free to make a donation to EarthShare, Network For Good, or Oxfam.

Seabird Sanctuary also helps rescue wildlife from the oil. You can either make a donation or adopt an animal.

To read views from other bloggers you can check out the Love The Gulf post over at Deb On The Rocks. We love the Gulf, how about you?

The Crazy Shit She Says: She's Trying To Hurt Me

As I walked in the door the other day from working the lunch shift I yelled "Mamma's home!" to NYEBoy and A. When I arrive home, A will do one of two things, either run to the stairs or hide under the covers of her bed. That day, she ran to the stairs.


A: Hey, did you fall?

Me: Huh?

A: Did you fall?

Me: Did I fall?

A: Yeah, DID YOU FALL?

Me: Um, no. Why? Was I supposed to?

A: Did you see the peppermint?

Me: Huh?

A: *points to the floor by the door* Did you see the peppermint?

Me: What the hell, did you really put a PEPPERMINT on the GROUND so I could FALL?

A: Uh, duh. Then, when you fell, I was going to SAB (save) you!


I guess if she can't kill me from driving me nuts she's going to start trying to physically harm me.

10 Things I've Learned As A Waitress At A Mexican Restaurant

I started working as a waitress a few weeks ago for the first time in my life. I only go a few times a week for lunch or dinner, sometimes both. I have come to learn a few things, though. Here's 10 of them.

1. Working at a Mexican restaurant and only knowing about five words in Spanish makes it difficult to communicate with the cooks. The most common saying between us is "no comprende".

2. Some people just find it HILARIOUS that a white girl is a waitress at a Mexican restaurant. I have to bite my tongue to ask when the last time they were served by an Italian at the Olive Garden.

3. Old white men pretty much only go to Mexican restaurants for Mexican beer and to try their Spanish out. They remind me of my father and that's not a good thing.

4. Chorizo is a Mexican sausage, not salsa. It took a thirty minute conversation between me and my boss before I realized he was saying sausage and not salsa.

5. My lowest tip was $0.60. No, really. I went to this table SEVERAL times. I refilled their chips twice, replenished their salsa (not to be confused with sausage) four times, all before bringing their meals within a few minutes, but they told my boss I never came to the table. I even checked on them twice after they got their meal. WTF? Was I supposed to FEED you your fucking burrito? Oy. I was on my way back to check on them before they left, but they were walking to the register. I guess next time, instead of saying "Y'all have a good night" (because I'm from TN) I'll say "Buenas Noches Pendejo"

6. People rarely ever order queso. I never go to a Mexican restaurant without ordering queso.

7. Hispanic men love soap operas. My boss always watches them during our down time. It totally cracks me up.

8. Speaking of down time. The lunch rush starts at noon and is pretty much dead around 1:30. The dinner rush comes in two spurts, usually. The first is around 6-6:30 and the next one is around 8:30. I can almost always tell what time it is by the traffic.

9. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Saturday lunch they are pretty dead. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night, the place is hopping.

10. I really want to try deep fried ice cream. And I will. One of these days.

Bonus - 11. Never work at your favorite restaurant. Things will never be the same. Even if you come in on your day off, you'll have to serve yourself. Awkward.

I enjoy working as a waitress way more than I ever thought I would. I like to think I'm not half bad, either considering they keep asking me to come back.

I enjoy the conversations between my boss and I. He has visions of taking the place from the owner (not taking, but owning it himself) and redoing everything. It makes me wish I had the money under my mattress, because he has great visions and I can tell he thinks about this a lot.

*I'm not sure if the appropriate term is Mexican or Hispanic. Please forgive me if I'm sounding like a buck-tooth racist, because I'm totally not.

Breaking The Cycle

Father's Day, unlike Mother's Day, has a different set of emotions for me. I'm not sure if it's because men and women are different, but for us, on our current path, NYEBoy isn't nearly affected by the infertility as I am. Yes, he wants children, but he has never worried about us not having them nearly as much as I have (do). I don't say that because "there's always adoption", but rather, he doesn't think we won't have biological children. In his eyes, treatments are going to work, maybe not the first time, but eventually they will. I believed that at one point, too. Nearly 6 years into this journey and watching other couples go through treatment after treatment, I'm a bit more realistic. So, although I grieve for my infertility on Mother's Day, I don't grieve the same way for Father's Day.

Having said that, I hate Father's Day. I hate Father's Day because I didn't have a father-daughter relationship like the cards and quotes say. I don't even have a stand in father. There was no step dad, uncle, or grandfather "father" figure in my life. I just got what I got and it was what it was.

Growing up, my father physically abused me. He's was and is an alcoholic. My mother and him divorced, among reasons, because of the physical abuse he had towards her. Once they split, it was like I filled his beating void. Sometimes my brother would fill it, too. But never did K. I'm not sure that he ever laid a hand on her to be honest.

As per the divorce papers, we had to visit every Sunday (and some holidays) until we were 14, then we could decide if we wanted to continue going. As soon as I hit 14, I didn't want to go any longer. For about 7 or 8 years, we didn't have much of a relationship. If he called the house and I answered, I'd give it to someone else. If I gave it to my mother, I would call him her ex or her sperm donor. When Christmas and Birthday's came along, I would have to do my obligatory zip-mouth for one day. Otherwise, we kept our distance.

About six years ago, the relationship between my father and sister began to sour a bit due to Thugboy entering the picture. Once she became a pregnant teenager, it got worse. My dad's always held a special place in his heart for my sister, so I know he was hurt by this.

Once A was born, I noticed Thugboy was keeping K and A away from my father. So, being the good daughter that I am, I snuck A over to visit my father frequently. I decided to put our struggles aside in order to forge a new, adult relationship. I know we can never go back to my childhood. He can never go back and be there for me. But, perhaps he was going to make a better grandparent than he would ever as a parent.

So I did that. I continued the sneaking A to his house every week or so for a few hours, until NYEBoy and I moved down to Fl0rida. Even then though, I would have weekly, sometimes daily conversations over the phone with my father. Things we were getting better over the two and a half to three years.

Then last summer came. And K and A moved in with us. My relationship with my father began to crumble. Apparently with K moving out here, their relationship began getting better. And better. And better. And our relationship began getting worse. And worse. And worse.

He's always telling my sister (she tells NYEBoy) that she needs to take care of A more because I'm trying to act like her mother, when he doesn't see K going out every night, blowing money, and not providing for her child. And when K is with A, she's not motherly. She's bitchy.

Last week, the shit hit the fan. My father called me yelling at me demanding to know where K and A's cards were that he mailed. There was no, "Hi, Hello. How are you feeling?" (he knew I was sick) it was just full on attack mode. (He doesn't realize, every time he sends a card to A, K spends the money.) So, I hung up on him. I was sick as hell in the midst of the viral infection and truly didn't want to hear him spew his bullshit. After I got off the phone I started fuming. So, I called him because and went off on his answering machine about how he didn't even have the fucking courtesy to ask me how A or I was doing, but instead chastised me about a fucking card I had no idea about.

I told myself I wasn't going to call him on Father's Day and I didn't. Instead, I will sit down sometime this week and write him a letter. I'm going to tell him how NYEBoy and I have done nothing but open up our home, wallet, and heart for these girls. I'm going to tell him how if he doesn't get his shit together, he will not be walking me down the aisle one day and he will not have a relationship with any grandchild NYEBoy and I have. I'm going to tell him how I've not done anything bad for our relationship and that before the girls moved down here, we were starting to form a new father-daughter relationship, but somehow, over the past 11 months he's completely undone anything we worked on in the previous three years.

I know I can't go back and make him not beat me because I didn't eat the green beans. Or because I knocked over his wild turkey. Or because I didn't hear him calling my name because I was born without part of the insides of my ear due to a birth defect. Or whatever the reason he had... but fuck.

Life is short. You don't get to choose the family you have and I would really like a relationship with my father. But it's up to HIM. It's HIS choice to be a good father. I've been a good daughter. It's his turn. But I'd be lying if I said that I wouldn't be affected if something happened to him before we were able to have a better relationship.

I want to break the cycle. I want my children to have a father who never lays his hand on them. I want my children to have a grandfather in their lives. I'm never going to get the family relationships like they show on television or make the cards for, but maybe my children will.

Maybe the cycle will get broken. I hope for it. I pray for it.

Hoppy 4th Birthday /\/\aya

or better yet known as the latest submission to Cake Wrecks.

Before I share the picture, let me explain. It was 9:45 when we pulled up to Baskin Robbins to plop down about $35 (insanity) for an ice cream cake.

BTW, have you seen their promotion for the "starting at $9.99 Father's Day cakes"? The cakes, are literally just. for. dad. One bite. Hence the reason we had to plop down the $35 for the cake, for more than one person to have a bite.

I found the cookies and cream with chocolate cake and asked the guy if he could write something on the cake. He turned down his blaring rock music to do so, by the way. He asked what color I wanted. I told him I would like the chocolate, but A piped up (no pun intended) as he got the bag ready yelling "GREEN! GREEN!" I decided to make a deal by having him write Happy, Birthday, and @maya in chocolate, but 4th in green. We shook hands, signed on the dotted line, and agreed to never discuss me telling her what to do on her birthday cake ever again.

Shortly after he started, he told me the chocolate wasn't working and asked if he could finish the rest in green. Insert karma here. I asked how far he got, when he told me to Happy. "Whatever, just do it," I said. And whatever, he did. After he finished, he placed the cake on the top of the ice cream case, we paid, I grabbed it, and left.

On the ride home, it happened. We looked at the cake. We must have grabbed the wrong cake, because APPARENTLY this cake was a shit stained cake meant for a 4 year old named /\/\aya!!!



I can not believe we paid $35 for this piece of shit. Literally. Grrr! Needless to say, they closed at 10 and it was too late. The kid's birthday is tomorrow and there is nothing left to do. Except to contact the company of course.

I really don't want this birthday post to be negative, so enough about that.

A, sweet A. This was the first picture I took of you. It was a Friday afternoon, shortly after 5 pm. The same day of the week and roughly the same time of day, I was born. A mini me in the making, from the beginning.




Last year I posted a few pictures from the previous three years, but this year I've just decided to post your first and most recent picture.

A lot has changed in this past year. We went from being 500 miles away from each other to some how living with each other. We've had our ups and downs, but I wouldn't trade the downs for you to move back to Mem.ph.is for a million bucks. For the record, I will say, whoever said "2's are terrible", obviously never made it to 3. And I have my guesses as to why.

I'm really looking forward to 4 though. You're starting preschool in the fall. Before that, Grandma, Great Grandma, and a Great Aunt are coming to visit us! I'm not sure who is the most excited, me, your, or them!

You are loved by so many people sweetheart. We all have high hopes for your future. We want nothing but the best. NYEBoy and I love you so very much. Thank you for being my inspiration and Happy Birthday Babygirl.

Nothing To See Here, I'm Just Dying

It all started about ten days ago. I noticed my throat was beginning to tingle. A few days later, A started running a fever. I checked her throat, but didn't notice anything sore and she didn't have any other symptoms. With a pending appointment just a few days away for my physical, I decided to wait until then to see a doctor. I figured if it got worse, the appointment would be there, and if not, no biggie.

As (my) luck would have it, I did get worse. As the nurse was triaging me, I informed her I had been dealing with a sore throat for a few days and would probably need a WBC, strep test, and antibiotics. She informed me that I would not be getting a WBC, strep test, or antibiotic prescription because I was here for a physical not a sick visit. Without going off on the dumb bitch, I decided to wait until I was in the room with the doctor to address my concerns.

As (my) luck would continue to have it, I was informed I would not be seeing the doctor I made the appointment for because I was no longer able to see them. Apparently there had been a mistake. That mistake would be something no one was willing to allude further into, except to say I would not be able to see that doctor ever again. The same doctor who had yet to fully see me and only saw me in the middle of K's appointments because I was "five minutes late" or the front desk crew scheduled me wrong. I'm pretty sure it had to do with me visiting the office manager after the last fiasco.

Not willing to fight with these dumb bitches any more, I just agreed to see the doctor they put me with, who apparently was on his way out of the office. He did my pap, refused to look at my throat with a light or do a swab, and had to be reminded on his way out of the office with his briefcase in tow, that I had labs to be discussed. When I asked about my liver function, in preparation for a new medication I'm about to start that reeks havoc on a healthy liver, he told me mine was fine, then scrolled down and said "Ah, there are two parts that are elevated, but otherwise everything is great!" I know, I know. WTF, right?

The next day, I woke up feeling like I had been ran over. Fever, congestion, sinus pressure, sore throat, raw tonsils, voice disappearing, and body aches. A's going-on-five-days-now fever was now accompanied by the same symptoms I had, minus the red throat and tonsils. Obviously the health department was out. They don't care about me on a well visit, much less on a sick visit. I told K to sign a form and NYEBoy and I headed to a local doctors office to pay out of pocket for both of us to get seen.

Of course everyone in the office kept whispering about A. I know every one's kids are cute, but I can't tell you how often I get stopped with people telling us how beautiful A is. As soon as the doctor walked into our room, her first words were "Oh my, they didn't tell me I was coming to see someone so beautiful." It makes me feel good because if it were up to K, she's never have her hair brushed or dress decent.

The doctor and I discussed our symptoms. She checked our ears, throats, and listened to our chests. We discussed my medical history briefly. She was very attentive. She even got on to me for not having Medicaid because of my lack of insurance and my medical history. (Do you think I have EVER heard such caring words from a doctor from the health department? I think not.)

We decided to run a strep tests, but regardless of the outcome, I would for sure be getting antibiotics because I was so sick and have had a history of not being able to get over things without several rounds of antibiotics. But, we didn't want to put A on antibiotics unless we had to. She deemed us viral, but sent us on our way with a prescription for antibiotics for me. (I also had a kidney infection.)

Over the weekend, A and I went from bad to worse. The sinus pressure was absolutely horrible. I sat in a hot bath, put a sock full of hot dry rice on my face, and rubbed the pressure points between my thumb and index fingers until I couldn't rub any longer hoping to relieve the pain. It helped, but only briefly. By Monday morning, I felt like I was dyyyyyyying. I called as soon as the clock turned to 8:00, when they opened.

I nursed a migraine, fever, and congestion all day while NYEBoy was at work and school. I told him at noon I wanted to go to the doctor that day since I was still sick and A spent the whole night running at 101 fever. He said he would get home early. I sent him two texts at 3 to remind him. He was home right at 4. As I was putting my hair up, I received a phone call from the doctors office. The nurse asked what was going on, heard the desperation in my voice (or the lack thereof) and told me she would have the doctor call me back. The doctor called me back within 3 minutes. As soon as she heard me, she told me to stop whatever I was doing and to get into her office NOW. They didn't know I was getting ready to come in anyways, so the timing was perfect.

Once we arrived, the nurse pulled us back and did our BP and temps. The doctor came in shortly after. We discussed the weekend and determined it was time to get stronger antibiotics for me and to go ahead and started A on some antibiotics. We discussed shots, but I didn't hear anything else once she came back in with the samples of the new antibiotic for me.

I woke up this morning with a phone call from the nurse telling me the doctor forgot to give me a shot yesterday, so I needed to come in at some point today to get a bruise on my ass.

A and I woke up feeling about the same as yesterday, which is a far cry from feeling worse. I'm really hoping the meds are hitting our system. I hate feeling so bad and I hate the babygirl feeling bad even worse.

The doctor didn't charge us for yesterdays visit, either. Seriously? I love that woman. She actually cares about us, just like my physicians did back home.

I hope we're feeling better by tomorrow. Why, you ask? Check back to see.

Type, Delete, Type, Save, Type, Delete

I've tried several times over the past two weeks to write a blog post, but nothing substantial comes out. I have a few partly written paragraphs in draft mode, but again, nothing blog-post worthy. It's been a little hard at times when I want to blog about something specific especially since I know my family is reading. Oh how I wish Blogger would allow password-protected posts!

We still don't know much on the new apartment front. We're hoping to make a decision one way or another this week or next. In the mean time, we did find out our current lease was sold again. I guess I shouldn't be surprised since it was sold about four times in the first year, but things have been pretty steady for a bout a year now. Either way, we have to make a decision soon. Our lease is up in 7 weeks.

Our car broke down last week. What a shocker, I know. It's the same issue we had on the way home from Christmas vacation. Some of the parts were on warranty, but it still cost us $500 and a day in a half without our only car. Also? Two days after getting fixed, the car started squealing again. Guess who had to rent a car on Saturday because the shop was closed? Yep. We're waiting on a tow truck now. Sigh.

I worked a week ago Friday and the manager asked if I wanted to come in on Wednesday for the dinner shift. I agreed. Wednesday night, he asked if I wanted to work lunch and dinner for the rest of the week and dinner on Saturday. After checking with K's schedule and forcing asking NYEBoy to watch A, I agreed. It went pretty well. I ended up leaving early Saturday because it was so slow.

I have my doctors appointment scheduled for Thursday, but at this point I'm not holding my breath on ever getting seen.

NYEBoy and I were headed out bowling Saturday night when his friend called and asked us if we wanted to play Trivial Pursuit. We decided to go, even though I know both of us would have rather gone bowling at first. Once we got there and got the game going though, we ended up having fun. We won! By the way, four glasses of wine will make you say some crazy shit. I'm just sayin'...

We took the whole family bowling Sunday for some family time. With the exception of one game towards the end, I consistently bumped my average score a good twenty-thirty points, despite ordering a pitcher of beer. We had a ball though, no pun intended. Or maybe I did.

Anyways, sorry for the absence. I'm still here. I've just been a little busy.