The Life of Jamie

Hi! It’s been a while. I have no excuse except for that I have been busy. Haven’t we all? It’s no excuse, I just need to write more frequently.

So what’s up?

My husband is battling brush in Yosemite (which I thought was in Wyoming…perhaps I had it confused with Yellowstone…hey- don’t judge- my parents NEVER took us camping, thank goodness)

One of our dear bloggy friends, who had a very bloggy wedding, joined my club. It’s the world’s shittiest club, and she joined an even shittier way I did…it’s The Dead Parent Club.

Speaking of dead parents…it’ll be 10 years since I saw my mother. She died August 24th. I’ve been trying to think of a way my dad, sister, our kids and I can honor her. I wanted to let one of those floating paper lanterns go on the beach (and I had this idea long before the Kardashians Took Thailand), but, it turns out, those paper lanterns might be illegal. Considering we are in a drought, and live in one of the highest fire danger areas AND my husband is a firefighter, I’m trying to think of alternatives. Any ideas?

Eric might have something called Meckel’s Diverticulum. He goes for a scan on Wednesday. If he has it, he’ll need surgery, but it should fix his stomach issues.

I have a new job. It keeps me busy. I don’t know what I was thinking working 30 hours a week right as school got out!

I go on vacation to the beach in two weeks…and it can’t come soon enough!

This stuff keeps falling intermittently from the sky. It makes people drive badly and my car is now filthy…I think it’s called reign…no that can’t be right. Rain, maybe? It’s been so long since I’ve seen it, I can’t be sure. All I know is it’s sticky outside.

I’m really hoping I don’t get pink eye. My son has it and I didn’t realize it until it had been going on for several hours. He does NOT have an ear infection. The doctor checked. He DOES have Boy Who Cried Wolf Syndrome. Have you heard of it? It’s where he complains so much about the tiniest little things that I don’t believe him anymore. Unless he has blood shooting out a major artery, or vomits on my carpet (again), I probably am going to tell him to suck it up.

And lastly, my kids are totally into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles…the old school ones that I used to watch. Fun trivia fact- the voice of the evil Shredder…none other than Uncle Phil from Fresh Prince of Bel Air. You can use that one to scare wow your friends at parties.

I’ll check in again soon…pinky swear!

Do you have any idea how fun it is to hack into your son’s poo?

Eric had to have stool sample testing done (again) because he basically pooped the Kool-aid guy the other day. Then he barfed for the second time in three weeks (on my carpet). His red poo was concerning so I took him to the doctor who ordered stool samples.

Have I mentioned that my husband, the fire captain, gags at the site? Last time we had to do this, he spun me a little yarn that went something like this…

“Jamie, it’s not that bad. I deal with so much worse at work. I’ve been puked on and shit on. I’ll take care of it. It’s no big deal.”

Fast forward three bowel movements later (because he conveniently wasn’t home for the first two)…Jeff, the fire captain who “deals with so much worse at work” is standing in the hallway next to the bathroom, his shirt over his nose, his hands over his face, tears running down his face, gagging, while I am dismembering a fairly significant BM from a five year old.

After I finish, I walk down the hall and look at him and tell him “three words, Shea!”

He looks at me and says “you were right!”

“Nope” I say. “I want to hear…I.was.wrong.”

He begrudgingly admitted it (I made sure to mark the occasion in his baby book).

So here we are 9 months later and I am again, doing what was only intended for a septic tank and toilet paper. Jeff is now working a different schedule and is working 8-6, so I knew he wouldn’t be home for this. I wanted him to feel like he was a part of it, so I made sure to text him pictures of each and every sample collected.

A sample (no pun intended) of our texts, minus the really F-ing disgusting parts…

(Oh, did you know that you have to freeze some of the samples? And yes, that meant I had shit in my freezer!!! In my freezer! I tripled bagged it but did put it right next to his beloved 31 favors)

I believe he left his testicles in his other pants.

Me and the reason for showering a lot the past few days.

(And no, the mask doesn’t really help)

All of a sudden, we were a party of four, and didn’t know that my heart could melt anymore.

You are as sweet as can be, and a devilish beast

And you have a certain style to say the very least.

You love your brother, me and your dad, even though at all of us you get quite mad.

You’re sparkly and bright and very twirly, you love all things pretty and are quite girlie.

Your curly hair, your big green eyes, and the way your breath makes me want to die.

You force feed me candy, and think ketchup’s a food group

And the way you giggle when you hear the word poop.

You CAN DO IT YOURSELF, and you yell in your sleep, and the way at the drop of a hat you can weep.

You’re frustrating and funny, witty and sweet, you’re a gorgeous little girl from your head to your feet.

You brighten each day that I am alive, Happy Birthday Little Lady, enjoy being 5

  (these are not my legs!)

Today I was getting a massage because I’ve had massive spasms in my neck rendering me useless…

Anyway- as I was laying there, my mind began to wander.  MEN- this is what the mind of a woman is like- hop on board and enjoy the ride!

The masseuse was rubbing my feet, one toe at a time.  As she ran her hands down one of my foot bones (tarsals?), it reminded me that I had a stress fracture in my left foot in college from the piss poor track I ran on.  Then I wondered if I had to wear my walking cast just one season, or when it came back my second track season.  Then I remembered that it was only the first year because I was a waitress at a BBQ my sophomore year and I didn’t have the boot there, which reminded me of my BFF and roommate that got me the interview at the restaurant and told the manager to watch my nostrils flare when I talk because my friends used to call me Nostrildamus because my nostrils flare so much, and in the middle of the interview he mentioned it and I did the rest of the interview with my hands over my nose, trying to keep from flaring (it’s impossible), and then I remembered that he was a dick of a boss and I ended up quitting three years later because of him, and that he ended up getting fired because he punched one of the cooks.  That cook used to grab my ass whenever I walked by him.  His name was Victor and my friend married a guy named Victor but they moved to Chicago a few months ago, and I saw a picture of them on Facebook standing in front of a green river on St. Patrick’s Day.  My son put 1/4 round tile in his Leprechaun trap this year because Leprechauns apparently like tile (didn’t you know).

Are you tired yet?  Because that’s what it’s like in the mind of a woman ALL. DAY. LONG.

And now now I give you the mind of a man: (choose one of the following)

food, beer, sex, sports, sex, food, sports, beer, cars, porn

NAILED IT!

Is it wrong that I get mad that my husband eats the only food in the house that the kids will shovel in their faces, or that he eats the bananas, that I eat for breakfast,two at a time?

(At least he was home to put the trash cans away)

Is it wrong that my husband has been at work for three days and the only REAL reason I want him home is so I don’t have to take out the trash?

I think it’s justifiable. I miss him…and his ability to empty the trash quickly and easily.

1. Sippy cups
2. One toilet (we are redoing our shower and have been using one bathroom for almost two weeks
3. Making school lunches
4. Picky eaters
5. Sibling arguments
6. “Let it go”
7. “Storm Watch”
8. Technology (she says as she writes on her iPad)
9. Politics
10. Paying a cleaning lady for my house to stay clean for 6.3 seconds
11. Meowing cats (even if he knows how to predict Super Bowl winners)
12. Passive-aggressiveness
13. Bieber and Kanye
14. Dust (from shower remodel)
15. Sand (sand in shoes, pockets, pant cuffs, hair, cars, beds, etc)

So this is fun…

We are having our shower redone and they came to hot mop the shower pan yesterday.

Have you ever tried sleeping in a room that smells of tar? I believe some of you probably have, but let me tell you how much fun it is.

NO FUN. That’s how fun it is.

And oddly, I woke up around 4 because of the smell and was starving. So hungry that my husband brought me string cheese, but I had fallen back to sleep.

Yesterday was a rough day. It would have been my mother’s 62nd birthday. For those of you who don’t know, she died 9 1/2 years ago of colon cancer. That’s not what made it so rough. I had plenty to do to keep me occupied, but was thrown for a complete loop.

In the wee hours of Sunday morning, I had a dream. I don’t remember all he details, but the loud and clear moment was when Mom showed up and I got to hug her tight. In my dream (and in real life) I wept uncontrollably as I clutched her.

I woke up a while later, and thought it was great she came to visit. I hadn’t seen her in my dreams for a while. Then when I realized it was her birthday, the tears took control, and I again wept uncontrollably. I’ve always believed that the dead come and visit us in our dreams, but I thought the birthday visit was extra special. And traumatizing. I was near tears all day long. I went on a long hike with a friend to get the funk out. It helped somewhat.

My husband was at my son’s basketball game, and I sent him a text explaining why I was so grumpy. He responded nicely, and then ignored me the rest of the day, no hug, nothing. He only asked me how I was feeling when I got in bed at 10:30. To which I replied that I didn’t want a hug, nor did I want to talk. No talking would have happened. It would have been screaming. More specifically, me screaming at him for being an insensitive prick. Several years ago, I gave him a list of important dates in my life. My mother’s birthday and the day she died. On top of my birthday and our anniversary, I really have pretty low expectations for what he needs to remember.

How I went to bed with such elevated blood pressure, one will never know.