July 11th, down on the books (again)

Every year since 1979, July 11th has been my brothers birthday.  The past few years, a simple text gets sent "Happy Birthday Brother" and he replies "thanks".  That's about it, lol.  But in 2009, this date became so much more.  My Grandma passed away, and I cannot even express the feelings I had when this happened.  She was 80 and she had lived her life, and we all agree that it was her time to go, and that she was at peace with it.  But my Grandma died a month before my Dad. On the anniversary of her death, I miss her, yes.  But the image of my Dad in his wheelchair parked right in front of her "sleeping" body on the day of her funeral is all I can ever think about.  I remember thinking that the worst thing that could happen from her death is my Dad blaming himself, and I broke down every time I thought of how it affected him.  They lived together, and they were drinking buddies.  They were both alcoholics.  They both died of alcoholism, within a month of eachother.  I thought to myself "I hope they didn't park him right in front of her" as I walked into the funeral home.  My heart stopped when I saw where he was.  How horrible of them to do this to him, as if he wasn't going through enough...So, this is what I think of every July 11th. I hardly acknowledge the fact that it's my brothers birthday anymore.  

Needless to say, I woke up feeling a little anxious this day.  Sad, regretful, so many things.  I decided this was the day I get off my butt and take care of business!  Loaded the kids up, headed out to the most horrible place in the world...the DMV.  My license was expired, so I thought I should go get it renewed, and maybe being pissed of at the employees there for something stupid that was bound to happen would take my mind off the Grandma and Dad thoughts.  Not that I EVER stop thinking about them, but on this day especially...I needed some different thoughts. You have no idea! 

After battling construction traffic for about 40 minutes, we made it!  Unloaded the babies, and I had my wonderful Kenni there to help me...she was working for a milkshake that day.  Got them all out, carted them in there.  Oh wait!  Forgot my mail, you know proof of address.  Got back to the car, grabbed it...here we go again!  Get in line, check. Tell the lady why you're here, check.  Give her the necessary documents, check.  How much? I asked. She says $30. We take anything but Visa.  Of course, I didn't have my check book nor do I have any other card than Visa, and who the hell carries cash these days?  I left, mad.  But if my memory serves me right, I was not thinking of any family. 

On my way back home, Kenni reminded me to stop for her milkshake!  LOL, she never forgets anything!  So we're going..eastbound on the street.  Construction, lane closures, fun.  It's 11:45, lunch traffic. Yay.  We're approaching a light, going 35 miles an hour.  There's a black car going westbound on the same street we're on.  Normal right?  Uh hmm. Til he decides he wants to turn southbound at the intersection directly in front of me about 2 car lengths distance away.  BAM! T-bone. Loudest noise I have ever heard, silence...wait for it...SCREAMING CHILDREN.  Airbag dust everywhere, I am bleeding, my kids are all hysterically crying.  I'm seeing red, and panicking.  Kenni quickly jumps out to grab Big C, and I do the same with Little C behind me.  We are all ok. I'm bleeding, hyperventilating, and can hardly feel my legs...but I'm holding two babies now and I'm fine. I call my husband 10 times before he answers the phone...finally, he must know something is wrong.  

I swear it was 40 seconds and cops and ambulances were everywhere.  My legs were tore up, bruised all over, and I had a pretty nice gash on my arm from the airbag. Kenni was fine, completely, and Little C bit his tongue.  As I'm still freaking out, trying to calm myself down and be the supporting mother for my kids, I look up and see my knight in shining armour running like a bat out of hell across the street for us.  It became very real to me, by the look on his face, that this whole fucking situation was bad.  

To make a long story short, (shut up) it's now two weeks later and although I'm still bruised and my boys will not stop talking about "our car crash" I'm alive and well.  My car is not, it is totaled.  I have been going through a shit ton of playing around with these insurance companies to get my car paid for, and move on with my life.  I will, but...

Now I have another terrible memory to add to the collection for this damn day of July 11th.  I'm sorry brother, I still love you though.

Chores?

How do you like this list? I got this from a friends post on FB, and I thought I would share....my thoughts.

My boys can put their toys away, and then dump them right back all over the place while screaming "yay!" And possibly breaking things. They can dust, then lick the duster. . . Swiffer, then peel it off and wipe their mouth with it. They can unload the dishwasher too, but they're only interested in the knives. They can wipe cabinets and baseboards with an entire package of 320 babywipes. They can also vacuum, with a toddler vacuum that doesn't scare the living shit out of them! Oh yeah, and they can throw the dirty clothes with the clean ones and manage to drive me crazy while doing it. My little soldiers, or not. It's ok though! They're 2!! Let them suffer through all that shit when they're adults and hate it like the rest of us! Why ruin their childhood!?

When I was growing up, my Mom did everything.  She cleaned on Sundays, did laundry on Monday's. She cooked every single day, and we never helped at all.  If we did, I don't remember.  Not that I want my kids to grow up to be assholes who don't want to help their mother, but I wonder if my Mom had a similar philosophy?  To let us be kids, and worry about all of the adult brain consuming nonsense when we finally turned into adults?  It takes a lot out of a person to be an adult, a mother, and a wife.  These things are trying, and only a matured mind can really understand why or at least accept it.  That's how I feel anyway, and if I'm wrong...whatever.  But me and my siblings all turned out ok.

Now that I have said the above paragraph, I'm going to really sit back and think on this one.  Defending my 2 year old twins lack of responsiblility (see, that just sounds crazy right?) and the importance of a real childhood totally makes me feel like an asshole.  I drill my girls almost daily about the shit they leave all over my house, the condition of their room, and about the pile of dishes that's now overflowing onto the counter top.  My mom had 5 kids, 5.  She also worked.  She managed to do IT ALL, so what's my problem?  I need to lay off my girls ... maybe.  I wonder if I do, will they willingly help me?  Hmmmm.....This will not be an easy one for me.  

First Post

So this is my first post, and a warning for those to follow;


I'm psycho. I also have an awesome friend named Jenny.  Now that I have that out of the way, you should also know that my life is fucking nuts and a lot of my blogs will be about how crazy it's driving me.  Makes sense for the background image I chose, being a freaking highway.  I'm always taxi cabbing my kids around, and living in what seems like a race!  I love my life, wouldn't have it any other way, except for maybe some more money involved....but ya know, who doesn't want that?


Oh yeah!  My life is crazy BECAUSE...I have four kids.  I have a 13 year old daughter, we'll call her Kae.  I have a 12 year old daughter too, and we'll call her Kenni.  You can already see why it's crazy right?  I also happen to be blessed with the most knuckleheadish gorgeous twin boys who are 2 years old, and terrible :).  They can be Big C and Lil C.  Got it?


Every day I learn something new about myself, every day.  Almost nothing surprises me anymore.  So now you get the pleasure of learning with me, or laughing at me saying "bitch, you didn't know that already?"  


Whatever.  Enjoy!