Merry Effing Christmas

The holiday season blows. I hate to be a grinch about it all, but it this year it does. I am usually Cindy Who and so excited about every stupid holiday song Husband Face is annoyed to tears. But this year we didn't even get a tree until today (usually it is purchased and decorated by the day after Thanksgiving, not joking). I am just not my usually merry self. I am guessing it is one or a combination of several of the following:

1. My daughter decided to pick up an emotional disorder. Awesome. Like having all of these crack crazed babies wasn't hard enough, I now have a two year old that twists her hair so often and forcefully she is balding. Diagnosed by my pediatrician as trichotillomania, he also said that the reason it is falling out now is due to the dry weather we are having. I am still on the fence about the diagnosis. All of my kids have twirllled their hair while falling asleep or watching tv, it is like their pacifier, so I am wary about labeling a 2 year old with 7 syllable anxiety disorder, seems a little intense. In the same breath, she does look like she is going through chemo. When we are out in public and I try to punish her all of the bystanders think I am Satan for reprimanding the poor cancer baby. Bitches, she is a stubborn little thing, not cancer ridden, move on. I can deal with a little baby pattern balding, whatever, but it has accelerated at such a rate that I haven't had time to cope with the situation. I am trying my best not to bring it up to her (if I mention it she gets really upset), she wears mittens duct taped to her pajamas at bedtime and always his a head full of leave in conditioner, however I think it has gone beyond repair and I may have to take her to get a pixie cut this week. Additionally, her twin brother has the hair of pop star Justin Bieber and she resembles a little alien. To sprinkle salt in the wound the only reason I decided to have a second child was the possibility of having a girl and my main excitement about the girl thing was the adorable hair accessories. I made over 50 bows/headbands when I was pregnant with the twins. Don't judge me. I was bed ridden and my hot glue gun was my BFF.

2. We are selling our home. Correction, we are trying to sell our home. We have had a few borderline offensive offers and what seems like a million people have seen it, but for the most part things are not happening like I had hoped. Fist of all, trying to prepare your home for potential buyers to come through and judge every carpet stain and smudged mirror is nearly impossible to successfully do with 3 kids nipping at my ankles. Then there is all the weekend projects we have to complete. I don't have a problem with doing all that stupid stuff so much as I do paying for it. Dumping money into a home you wish was out of your life is extremely painful. I neglected to mention that the main reason we are selling is due to our horrific neighbors. You think you have it bad with a barking dog or occasional loud party, oh no my friends, my neighbors are out for blood. They hate me, my kids, my dog, my car, etc... It is crazy and a whole separate blog that I will shout from the rooftops when this home is a distant memory. But the worst part is how much I love our home. It is cute and has a yard opening up to a park (key for the children to burn off energy before their strictly enforced naps). We bought the place as a foreclosure and put a ton of work into it once we moved in. And yes, we outgrew it the day we moved into it (I found out I was having the twins a month after we closed escrow) but I have always said that it has made us one of those close families, like the Cosby's, but white and poorer (a doctor and a lawyer, really, that is like the earning potential lottery).

Update: Since writing this my children have literally burnt down their room. Not joking, blog post deltailing their craziness is written, just need to add pics to complete the mess. The aroma of smoke hitting you as soon as you open the door should make this place a lot easier to sell.


3. The best friend has left the building. Actually the continent. She decided to go teach English to Korean children. I tried to convince her that my kids suck at English and to just stay in my garage, teach them some words or commas or whatever, indefinitely. Strangely living a metropolitan lifestyle in a foreign city sounded more appealing to her than my suburban one car garage. Whatever. This makes me seem codependent, but I am not, promise. By no means are either of us those type of women that must hang out every day and braid each others hair. Oh no, we mock those people. However, there has never been a year in my life (since I was 5) when we were not in constant communication with one another. We went through K-12 together and then remained in the San Diego for college. Hell, we even went to the same college. And know she has left me. High and dry for what has been presented as a year adventure, I have a sneaking suspicion will evolve into a lifetime of foreign men, countries and food. It is kind of gross/sad that I didn't have to cultivate deep relationships past the age of five, now I am reaping those consequences. South Korea has shitty Internet and is like a day and a half ahead of my time zone. We have also concluded that we are the only people using video chat for non sexual reasons and happy hour via the interwebs is near impossible. Additionally, I am so jealous of her Korean escapades. As much as I love living the housewife wet dream, it would be amazing to be able to pick up and just go live anywhere, just for the hell of it.


As a side note: I do have pretty amazing friends here. But I am a hard person to peg. The 25 year old mom of three little kids who curses too often, drinks too much and probably won't agree with anything you say just for the hell of it, is not the most popular girl. Moms don't want to be my friend because of the aforementioned reasons and people my own age have way too much free time on their hands and don't seem to really understand all the responsibilities I have everyday, regardless of the hangover...

4. We are sick. Always. This nasal headache (accompanied by a lovely hacking cough) will follow me to my grave. And the kids just pass it to each other like dirty hookers. No one in my family has been 100% healthy since the twins were born. It is zero fun spending money you don't have, for a holiday you don't believe in, while sick. Can it be January?


I know I will be fine and snap out of this funk, but this is my bitchy blog post. Tomorrow (or maybe the day after) I will post one about how my kids ooze cuteness or something humerous involving their puke. It has been a rough week/month/year. I am sure I will experience a Christmas miracle soon enough, but I wouldn't bet any virgin births on it.

Watch out 2010

The last night of 2009.

I have never made a resolution. Never. I thought it was petty and pushed by gyms and Jenny Craig. What can I say, I am a crazy hippie at heart. Three kids later: My life and body are a mess. Since I am, gasp, a stay at home mom, the days and my waistline continue to expand. I need a goal (in this case several goals) to keep me focused, and prevent me from turning into one of those sad women who doesn't shower in the morning because I think, "What's the point?"

Luckily, as a teenager with disposable income I purchased a lifetime membership to a gym, most of the other things I did as a teenager were not as advantageous to my future. I have zero excuses for not working out, aside from the three kids and budding social schedule. Once I decided to shed the pounds my happy ass has been carrying around for several years, the resolutions just wouldn't stop. Now, last year I spent the majority of my time making bottles and figuring out what shirt colors hide spit-up best, this year the babes are to a point where they need me, but occasionally maybe I can wear a black shirt (black=bad color to conceal puke) and further my career. Here are my overly ambitious life goals. They will not be completed in 2010, it might take years to achieve them all, but along with my crazy stubborn side, comes crazy determination and passion. So watch out 2010, I am going to kick your ass.

In order to not overwhelm you with all my New Year crazies, I am going to "release" a couple at a time throughout January. I know the suspense may be too much to handle, but, trust me, it will be worth the wait.

-Get in shape, not round. Oh, my nice jeans, how I miss you. I'm spending my winter in $10 jeans, and it sucks. Probably the biggest reason for the new found desire to "be fit" is because I don't want to rebuild my jean wardrobe. A lot of effort and money were spent on those jeans, which are now just getting wrinkly at the bottom of my drawers. Also, I know one piece swimsuits are "in" now, but really? They aren't that cute, and everyone knows you are just hiding your blubber stomach. Well maybe Kate Hudson isn't hiding a blubber stomach, but most beach goers in one pieces aren't wearing them for the fashion statement. Plus, can there be an uglier tan line? And, I know, I live in San Diego. Last summer, was not my finest time. I was an emotional fat mess, and I apologize to those who saw me in my bikini. I obviously was not thinking straight, can we blame this lapse in judgment on the lack of sleep and nearly dead sister? My current attack plan against my body, includes running (with my Goliath babies) and my classes at the gym. Seeing as we cannot afford to suck all of the fat out of my stomach, hopefully hard work will be enough.

Ok, and this is a bold move, but I am seriously considering posting "progress pictures." The first picture has been taken, and it is bad, really bad. But it is motivational, so I am tempted, we'll see.


The reason my jeans don't fit.

-No soda, limited caffeine. Why are the legal stimulates so hard to quit? I love soda, but I think the copious amounts I have consumed since the babies were born contributed to my weight gain and bad skin. Enough, adios dumb beautiful caffeine. It really is like a bad break up. I see him (Dr. Pepper) everywhere, and it feels so right when we are together, but he is bad for me. No we can't be friends, I love him too much, a clean break is better.

So far I have been doing pretty awesome. I think about soda all day, and we still have ALL of our stash in my fridge, but I have not caved. Granted, I grind my teeth and have developed some anger issues, but hell I am soda free!


The reason I need a soda.

-Eat like an adult. I eat like a small child. Well, better than K-Dog, who refuses anything that is not bread based and fried, but it is pretty bad. I am on a major organic, no microwave, good farm kick. This is what watching Ellen has gotten me too. I love animals, I don't want them to be treated poorly, but they taste so good. My happy medium is only financially supporting farms that let there cows/poultry graze, aren't given anti-biotic, allowed to flap their wings, etc. I know I sound like a crazy hippie, but have you tried organic meat? It is good, like way better than the normal grocery store junk. And the big "farms" are the biggest (40%) contributor to global warming. So, drive your hummer and run your TV all day, but eat (as Husband Face calls them) the "happy cows." I promise not to become one of "those" people who talks about my "green-diet" all day, and the environment, and how we are killing our planet, blah, blah, blah. I am way too interesting to talk about that crap. THIS is that rant, and I am now done.

Also, just so we all are on the same page, I am making an exception for In N Out, sorry cows. I am telling you all this because I know one day I am going to come home on a In N Out "high" and write a love letter about their patties. I don't want to feel guilty. Actually, I don't really eat out that often, but when I do I generally have some type of steak. I am not ready to give that up yet. Maybe soon. I will save as many planets and eat the "happy cows" as I can, but my heart will always be a crazed meat lover.

Along, with trying new foods, I am trying to learn how to cook. I know, who am I? Husband Face has always done the majority of the cooking, but I really don't need to eat chicken pasta anymore, my ass looks like the curdled cream (too much?). Which leads me to the conclusion, that I must cook. Thanks, to everyone who bought my cooking junk for my wedding. I wish I knew about the crock pot 3 years ago.



The reason I will do it all.