A Glossygirls Tale….

 Okay, so I don’t blog a lot about my boyfriend (who might be my ex-boyfriend at the moment) because he feels that the internet is like a alienship, with a bunch of aliens, and they are all waiting to get into our minds and find out everything they can about us and take what is sacred and step all over it. He feels that things about us should be private and not broadcasted to a million different people. he doesn’t understand that I enjoy to blog, or at the very least get on and read about other peoples lives. He doesn’t get that my daily log on to myspace is not to find a replacement for him, but to just keep up with my friends. So that being said, this is kind of a tough blog because I feel like I am being disrespectful to him, but I am so confused by things going on with us that I just need to get it out. Hopefully he won’t remember I even have a blog and therefore he will not read it.

So personally I have some things going on that involve my son and his father. My boyfriend, who we will call Mr. S, is having a hard time with this. Basically, he has been there since my son was a baby, and he does not want his real father involved in his life.  I feel strongly that he should be in his life because it is his Dad and that it isn’t a bad thing for my son to have two people that love him when it comes to a father.  So basically we have been fighting about this for weeks, actually months, and about two weeks ago it all exploded and now I don’t know what the f we are doing. We live together.  But we aren’t together. We broke up. But he is acting like he wants to be together. Yet he was the one that said if my son’s Dad was going to be in his life then he couldn’t be. Didn’t say that he wouldn’t be or didn’t want to be. Just said that he “couldn’t” be.  And I don’t know what to do. I am doing my own thing and trying to just see where the cards fall, taking advantage of the “not being together thing” to do things I haven’t done in forever. I went out last Saturday for the first time in forever and got trashed off my butt for the first time in two years (baby was at a sleepover, he didnt’ get trashed with me ) and Mr. S was all pissy because I was out.  Before I went, I told him that we were just going to have fun, like a girls night and that I wanted to make sure he wasn’t taking it as a “I am going to go find some guy to screw just to make you mad kind of night” and he told me to go and have a great time with my friends, it would be good for me he says, and that if I need anything to call. That I shouldn’t worry at all, because he didn’t think that for a minute. But all night he is texting me that I must be getting hit on my tons of men.  I have explained to him over and over that while I don’t agree with he can’t be part of our life if I allow my son’s Dad in his life, that I understand if he can’t do it. That I am glad he can be honest with me, and that I understand that it isn’t a thing about love, or rather lack of love. But at the same time, I am a believer that if you love someone you should be supportive of each other.  And the problem is that I am getting more confused by the day. We are very clear that we aren’t together. And he hasn’t indicated that he wants to get back together, yet he keeps making comments like he does want to. Obviously I am a little more guarded and I am not sure if I want to jump right back into being together if he feels so strongly that he couldn’t be supportive of the relationship my son would have with his Dad. I mean, I see it as it would constantly be a battle between us. I would constantly wonder if he is angry about it or resentful towards me. I mean this could be a dealbreaker between us. That is a lot to take in.  I am just not sure how to handle it. Do I give it another try because I am the big believer in love, or do I let him come to me? And if I did let him come to me, I get a little scared that I wouldn’t know how to answer him because I am not sure if I want to fight over this and be in the same place in six months.  OYE OYE OYE> I am really stuck on this one. I guess I am sticking to my guns so hard because I really feel like the best thing for my child would be to have his father in his life. I just can’t comprehend the thought of telling him you can’t be in his life. It goes against everything that I believe in, and not to belittle Mr. S, but who is to say that he will be there in a year or two or even five?  I don’t think I am in the wrong here, but he thinks I am.  Just makes me wonder if this is a dealbreaker.

So today was the big day. J had his 1st Birthday. I didn’t cry once all day. Okay, I lie. I got a little teary this morning when I woke up to hear him talking to himself. All I could think about was how at this time last year I was holding my brand new baby in my arms and staring at him in complete awe and wonder. And now he is sitting in his room saying “uh-oh” as I hear him methodically drop everything possible from his crip onto the floor.

Anyhow. The birthday party went great. I was actually surprised to find that I do throw one hell of a kegger for little ones. I apparently haven’t lost my touch, . We had musical chairs, guess the amount of candy in the candy jar, twister championship, cake, balloons. Actually, it looked like Spongebob Squarepants yaked in my living room, but hey, the kids loved it.  And of course we had the special little cake for J to dig his fingers into. You could tell the kid never has sugar…

But it was fun. I made it through. It was two Birthdays of sorts. We were celebrating his first year of life and my first year of being Mom. Kind of cool.

Okay. I know I know I have slacked. I have been bad at keeping up on my post and I told myself I wouldn’t do this. However, I’m back. I will be keeping a more orderly posting schedule. That being said, there has been plenty going on for me to post about, but I will try to just keep at it a minimum, because this is a blog, not a book.

        So, here I am. I know all three of you, possibley two that read my blogs, know I have a son, but for those of you that don’t, he will be 1 on Feb 4. Let me start this out by saying, I have no idea how the heck I am supposed to throw a birthday party for a one year old, but I am sure as heck trying. I mean what do you do? The kid can’t play twister, and I don’t really see him taking a whack at the pinata, but nonetheless in two short weeks I will be hosting a bevy of young little lads at my house and throwing a first birthday for my firstborn. This brings up many feelings for me. First one being that I can’t even believe that he is turning one. Let me explain, that as a mom, this feeling kind of sneaks up on you with little notice. Example:

               me: (folding my son’s little oshkosh overalls) I can’t believe he is already one.

               boyfriend: Yep. That is what happens. They get bigger

               me: I know..(sob)….but I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly

This is an example at how quickly these emotions can take over when doing a simple task such as laundry. Example #2:

                me: Yes,I need to order a birthday cake, for ummm, a birthday, umm..he is one..and he is mine, and ummmm..yeah. I really have no idea what the heck I am doing because he is one and I have never done this before.

                 Lady at Albertson’s Bakery: (giggle)That’s okay. What kind of cake do you need?

                 me: I have no idea, but I think one of those kind that he can just mess up, because every party I have been to for a one year old they just put it in front of them and they wreck it.

                 Lady at Albertsons: Well we actually do a special cake for them for free when you order a half sheet. you can pick whatever flavor and we do the little one to match. And you can pick an image to put on it as well. Does he like Spogebob Squarepants?

                 Me: (sob) Yes it’s his favorite. That will be perfect.

So again. Here I am crying. I didn’t cry this much when I was pregnant. I didn’t cry this much when he was born. And the lady at Albertsons asks me if he likes Spongebob and all I can think about is my little ones jammies, little chubby toes, and cheerios hidden in my shirt while we sit in the early hours of the morning watching his favorite cartoon show.

They don’t lie when they say it goes fast.

So when I was a young little lad, we always went to the pumpkin patch. Our Dad drug us down there every year while we had to pose for endless pictures and reminisce of stories about when we were (insert age here) and we picked out the biggest pumpkin ever. Until that year of course when an even larger pumpkin was lugged to the car. One of the things I loved the most about the pumpkin patch was the fact that my birthday is on Halloween, and it always seemed to get the festivities started for some reason. Now I told myself when I was younger, standing with my brother and sister, posing for the camera, that I would not ever subject my child to this.

Well. I have subjected my child to this.

So this last Sunday, off we went to the pumpkin patch. J got to experience his first hayride, corn maze, pumpkin bowling and tractor ride. He was in awe of all of it. We picked the perfect little miniture pumpkin for my little pumpkin head, and he didn’t cry once.

The funny part? I didn’t even have to make him pose for a picture. He posed with me.

Such a ham…..wonder where he got that from?

So I don’t know if anyone has seen this show on VH1, but I just have to put my two cents in on it. For those of you that don’t know what I am talking about, let me just give you a quick synopsis of the show. Cheezy(I say with a z) guy that used to be a major dork (still is in my mind) that supposedly figured out the beauty of the feminine mystique and has somehow gotten a show with two wing-men in tow, to teach seven other geeks (or maybe it was 8…) his womanly ways. I believe the beginning of the show included the line “with what I will teach you, you will get laid.” There are sooo many things wrong with this show that I don’t even want to go there. But where I do want to go is A) who the hell decided this bonehead named “Mystery” was the man and B) if you Google this guy and see his picture you might need to wonder how eyeliner, some black nail polish, long scraggly hair, and the occasional don of his pilots goggles (on top of his head mind you) make for a sexy man. Oh, no worries, he does switch it up and wear his cowboy hat sometimes. Now had they thrown a guy up there, say like George Clooney, whom although older, definitely has a certain quality, I might like to sit and watch awhile. This show, while not only belittling to women in my mind (portraying us to be little toys in which to play games of lust with), is a train wreck to watch. The object of each week is giving them a challenge to learn how to talk to, kiss, seduce, enthrall, entertain, etc in which they proceed out into a club with hidden cameras, while the amigo and his two side-kicks grade their “performances” from close by. Ladies, if you are wondering, this is the part that he especially likes to dress up for. After the geek squad bombs, the Amigos head into the bar and show them how it is really done.I must interject here that with the three losers that enter the club, I kind of wonder if the women that are being subjected to all of this stand to inherit a substantial fee for the trauma of what these men put them through. Of course, the end of the show is typical of any reality television show these days that use the same tried and true formula of survivor. elimination. with a little gold medallion in the hands of the geek squad, each one is eliminated weekly until last geek standing. Amazingly, the prizes weekly are a “private” session with the gaywod goggle-wearer. I must say that I would rather watch “Americas Next Top Model” a hundred times than sit through this tragedy of a television show.

It’s wrong. Just seriously wrong.

Okay. So I am going to let people in on a little secret. A little tidbit of me. Yes, you probably won’t believe this, but I know that Jason R. Steele can back me up, so I am just going to say it.

Soooo..last November I found out I was pregnant. I was told for years that I would not be able to have children, and if I did it would be hard for me to carry the pregnancy all the way through. So I have been trekking along in life, pretty much committed to the idea that I will always be the Aunt, and never be the Mom. (kind of like always the bridesmaid, never a bride theory). I was seeing this guy then. We will call him T, however I would like to call him many other names. Anyhow. So I go to my doctor, just my normal I have an earache doctor and she confirms the pregnancy and tells me that I am probably 6-8 weeks along. I know I have been dating this guy awhile, so obviously I would assume it is his. So he takes the news really well. About as well as a two year old in the toy store that isn’t going to get the toy they want. And long story short, he was a total ass to me. Tried everything in the book to get me to abort the pregnancy, and oh did I mention that he had a girlfriend this whole time that I didn’t find out about until later.  So when I refused for the millionth time that I would not be getting an abortion and told him he could go shove it up his ass because there is no way this guy is worth more than a human life (which he would strongly disagree, I assure you) he stopped talking to me. I was like, fine, I am going to have this baby and it will be fine. Over the next 6 weeks, I keep feeling things move and I keep telling everyone, including my doctor, that I am seriously feeling movement, kicking, watching my stomach roll around. I was told I was nuts and just a sill expectant mom. Except my friend Jenni, who is one of the most amazing people, and seriously is probably the whole reason I actually took the home pregnancy test in the first place. Actually, it was all her fault for ruining my perfectly lovely Monday night.

So I finally make it into the doctor for my first appointment, and they do the initial ultrasound and low and behold, I am not nuts, I was almost nine months pregnant. According to my doctor I should have only been going into my fourth month. They proceed to tell me that after a million tests I will be permanently residing in the hospital until I have this baby, if they don’t end up taking it that night. Obviously this is a shock, and I won’t bore you with the details of that, but turns out that the asshole is not the father. He won’t return my calls and the whole six weeks he didn’t talk to me, all I got was a text message asking if I was still pregnant. He said until I decided to be an upstanding person and not wreck his life he wanted nothing to do with me. So I sent him a message saying he didn’t have to worry about it anymore (because he won’t even answer my calls) and leave it at that. He of course sends me a text message how I am nothing but a whore who was trying to trap him because he is a “good guy to land” , and how he was just using me for good sex (which hey, apparently that was some kind of compliment) and how he is going to take out his girlfriend for a celebratory dinner and that they would throw me table scraps and that I should enjoy that “bastard child of mine”. Yes I know, he sounds like a real charmer. I don’t know how on earth I ever let him go…anyways. This was a year ago almost.

So here I am, and we are now getting to the WTF part,  and he finds me on myspace. makes a comment about my “cute kid” and proceeds to go at it again with me. Now I know I should have blocked him, but I wanted to see what he had to say, and how low he would actually go, and you know what the little f***er had the nerve to say after a barrage of emails back and forth of him saying I was still so wanting him and me saying, you are a f-ing moron??? 

he said…”yayayayaya…so do you want to have sex or what?”

SERIOUSLY? SERIOUSLY? WHAT THE F**** (AKA wtf)  

That is all I had to say about that. I can’t say anything but wtf? I just. Yeah. WTF just about covers it.

What is the meaning of life? I want to know. I think I know the answers somedays, and other days the answer escapes me. Somedays I think that the answer to life is as simple as living it. Other days I think it is more complicated than that. I look at things that have happened throughout history and I wonder to myself how amazing life is everyday. I am not a religous person persay, but I do think I am very spiritual. I believe in God. I believe that if you look around, how can you not believe that there is something bigger than anything else out there. I believe that in our lives we have a purpose, a lesson that we want to learn. It is a subconcious thought that drives us everyday. It drives us to want more for ourselves. It drives us to love, to want, to care, to live. It drives the very breath that we take out of the lungs that God gave us to breathe the air that feeds our minds. Look at how different every single person is and at the same time we are all exactly alike. We are looking for acceptance. For belonging.  We are looking for things to go our way. Looking for something to happen, even if we don’t know what it is.  I think my life’s lesson is consequence. Learning how the choices that I make today will affect my life tomorrow, in a month, in 10 years. It is like smoking. I know it is killing me. Every puff I take off of this little harmless piece of paper with tobacco in it is taking time off of my life. but do I stop? No. Why? Because I am addicted. The choice I am making to smoke is most likely going to have the consequence of my death. And I am making that choice. But if something were to happen to me, like getting cancer, I would do everything I could to prevent the disease from taking my life. And getting cancer is something that isn’t my choice. So the question is Why do we make choices that are harmful to ourselves? Why do we have sex with people we don’t know well? What is it we are looking for to drive us to desire that connection of the human touch? Where did we lose enough respect for ourselves that it doesn’t matter? Why are we cheating ourselves out of something more because we forget about what is important and instead we look at the choice that is most appealing?  Why aren’t we looking at why we were put here, and why do we spend all of our time making choices that are hurtful and selfish and mean? And then we wonder why we are alone, and sad, and maybe not feeling like we are living our life the best way that we can. But until you recognize and own up to the choices that you are making, you will just keep making more and more. ANd most of the time, these choices we are making are just a million little reasons or excuses to not look at the deeper meaning, to not look at what is really going on inside, but rather to allow ourselves to get lost in the drama of life because for many of us, that is much easier than getting up in the morning and looking at ourselves in the mirror.

Okay..so I met the girlfriend and I must say of all the girls my brother has brought home ( which in all fairness to him hasn’t been a bunch, enough, but not like it could be), this girl was actually very nice. We had a great time just hanging out, Friday night pizza and beer sitting around reminiscing about how he got the name Q-tip head and all of the things we used to torture each other with when we were younger. It was great, minus the Liza Minnelli want-to- be that showed up with my brothers best friend looking like a sausage squeezed into her dress, didn’t have a clue about anything, and made the snooty comment to my brother that she couldn’t believe he wanted to hang with us instead of going out with his best friend and his fake id’ carrying twit of a girlfriend as we were “old, and would be in bed, like, by 9:30″. Don’t even get me started on her.

Saturday, hung out, had to do some grocery shopping for a BBQ we were having. Fast forward to Saturday night. Let me preface this by saying, I hate being that loud group of people in the apartment complex that has everyone complaining for being to loud. And let me just make note before I move forward that I mentioned this a number of times to my fellow party people. So my brother thinks it would be a good time for D (that is his girl) and I to “bond” at the grocery store while the men went out a played pool. For some reason S had it in his head that he could get my brother into the bar (which he did, because as you can guess, my brother is not, shall we say, of age yet.” I would have never attempted this feat because in my mind, it is just wrong. you need to earn your dues and quite frankly I don’t think you have had enough crap to deal with in life until you are 21, which enables you to get totally bombed, guilt free.) Anyhow, that is for another blog. So they go out, get toooootttallllyyyyy hammered and come meandering back to the house around 10:30. They were supposed to be home around..ohhh…6:30 tops. so they are hammered, a couple of boneheads, walking back to the house. The were loud. rowdy. yelling at each other about who’s the man, who got their ass beat at pool etc, etc. They also proceeded to get into a beer spitting fight on my porch (yes, I am so proud of them at this point and I think D is ready to bolt for the door because she has never seen my brother get drunk, therefore missing out on the fact that he giggles like a little schoolgirl in church when he is blitzed). Anyyyhooowwww…I keep telling them, be quiet. I am going to kill you if you don’t shut up, blah blah blah, you know, the multiple empty threats that just make them look at me like I am nuts and burst into fits of mysterious we -are -to- drunk- to -know- what -we -are- laughing -at -giggles. So then the doorbell rings and here is a cop at my door (funny how they sobered their ass up then) telling me that he has gotten numerous complaints about us and had already tried to find our place once until he just sat at the edge of the apartments and followed the noise ( and yes I was nominated to answer the door because I was the only one who had not been drinking) and that if he has to come back it is going to be all over, and we will be fined. so I get the boneheads inside, tell them they are grounded and it is time for them to sleep. Which brings us to the walk to the garage to get the mattress that they decided my brother and his girl absolutely had to sleep on. (nothing like seeing  two grown men, one of them being your brother wandering off into the dark together playing 007) So on the way back they are laughing so hard that they can’t hold the mattress and it ends up doinking S in the eye, which I think almost made my brother pee his pants. OH, and it was raining. makes me wonder where their brain cells went sometimes. So let me end this on a positive note. The cops never had to come back, S got his ass beat by a mattress, and I swear my brother peed his pants and just didn’t want to fess up. But I loved the girlfriend, despite her comment after the cop left that she was “really worried becasue she was already on probabtion”

And if you were wondering, no we didn’t get around to BBQ’ing.