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We colored the stars with our promises,
you kissed one and i kissed one
with all the good intentions we could muster
and we flung them off the edge of the world.
They bounced around like basketballs
and landed somewhere between hope and dissolusion.
Were do dreams go to rest their eyes?
Do they use shadows as their pillowcases,
Rain clouds as their beds?
I promised you the sunset,
and when I came to you,
cupped hands overflowing with dandelions
you told me the sun can't be captured;
can't be tamed.
But I found some sunrays for you,
and I bottled them up with your name as the label.
I asked you to drink me,
said I'd make you small;
microscopic.
You could feel almost invisible,
with only your flaws apparent.
I heard a man yelling once,
he said "eat of my body"
so I did and inside the bowl of skin
I found sins upon sins.
Imbibing of human dreams is a dangerous trick.
It can make you dissapear,
or it can make you powerful, magic, strong beyond belief.
I threw our story in a wishing well
and the sound it made as it hit the water
wasn't a splash,
it was a sob.
But it belonged there.

perfection

My life is amazing.

I am happy.

I am becoming more and more who I want to be.

Never in my life did I think my life would be this complete, but somehow, someway, in the last three and (almost) a half years, my partner and my daughter have taught me to love myself by loving me unconditionally. 

I am not ashamed anymore. If someone judges me or disapproves of me I can usually shake it off with a "fuck them, I'm happy".

Recovery is so possible, guys.

I see people I used to know and they are just people. I don't stay up at night wishing I was anyone but myself, or wishing I was no one at all. Instead, I stay up and laugh or dance or cuddle and it is fantastic. 

Here's to happiness for everyone.

solstice and stuff

Holy goddess, I've been busy.

So, Solstice happened. In between writing historically accurate notes to people who's cars were littered with "Keep Christ in Christmas" stickers and leaving them under their dashboards, working and all sorts of Solstice planning. . . I'm pooped.

We saved up enough money to get Willow new clothes (she was getting too small for her 12 month clothes) and a warmer coat, along with presents for her, each other and a few small things we wanted. All in all, it turned out to be a great celebration.

So, Willow. She's gotten so big, guys. She's walking everywhere now, and basically refuses to crawl, and sometimes even to be carried. She talks nonstop, asking and answering questions all day. Today, we went to the doctor to treat a rash she had (damn thrush!) and I had told her in the morning that we were going to go see the doctor. So all day she was saying doctor, except it sounded a lot like cracker, so I got confused. She'd say doctor, giggle and then try to walk out the door. At the doctor's office, she stared at the fish for like 5 minutes. She knows a few colors (yellow and purple mostly) and pointed out a yellow fish. She says bottle (she grabs them from the recycling and drags them all over the house), yeah, whaazup, poopoo, toot (always followed by a giggle. . she really is our kid!), knows how to growl, bark, baa, and neigh. 

She's funny too. She'll walk around with diapers on her head because she knows we think its funny, or she'll share food with us and when we say "no more" she'll try to shove it in our mouths while giggling. I seriously love this girl.

She does have her rough times though. Last night she kept waking up, over and over. She didn't want to be in her crib, she didn't want to be in our bed without nursing, but she wanted to nurse with her ass in my face which made it slightly difficult for me to sleep. Plus she'd bite me because she was being ornery. Then she woke up at 5 for an hour and went back to sleep only to wake up for good at 8. She was a major crab till she finally fell asleep around 1:30. After that she was ok though. 

We were all sick with like the fucking puking plague for a week. First she got thrush and then she caught a bug from the doctors office when she went to see him for her thrush. She spent like 4 days miserable and puking and then I got it 5 minutes before I had to go to work in the kitchen by myself for the first time and then JP got it. Thankfully that's over. I have never gotten a stomach bug before, but this was the mother of them all. There was no way to make it to the bathroom- when diarrhea or puking hit it hit like a motherfucker. Thank god vinegar and baking soda are a thing. Gag. 

Other than that overshare, there isn't much going on here. Working more hours, being kind of overwhelmed. 

I get the bed to myself tonight, so I'm gonna head in early. 

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the lazy girl's cleaning hacks

I am so not a homemaker. I kind of suck at it. If I were left to my own devices, things would be messy and sort of clean most of the time.

Our house is messy. It's actually less messy now that we have a kid though. We kind of figured out we can't just leave random shit around because babies like to stick shit in their face-holes.

I knew how to clean before. I taught myself a lot after I moved in with JP because, quite frankly, the man was messier than me, and sometimes dirty as well, so I had to clean up after him. I taught myself about bleach and borax and all kinds of stuff.

And then Willow happened and I realized I'd rather not have all those unnecessary and unpronounceable chemicals all over stuff that my precious baby would touch. So I discovered vinegar and baking soda.

I didn't believe they would work at first. I thought that if by some miracle they did work, they would work like shit and I'd have to scrub and scrub- and quite honestly, I'd like to spend the least amount of time I possibly can doing something other than being on r/gonewild. Just kidding.

But then I tried them. And holy god did they work. They worked faster and better than conventional cleaners. So, here's the lazy girl's guide to cleaning, aka my favorite cleaning cheats.

1. Microwave:  Put 1/2 cup water and 1/2 cup vinegar in a glass bowl and nuke it. It doesn't have to be exactly that consistency or measurement. . I usually just pour some vinegar and some water in there and don't really check. Put it in for like 3 minutes. The water and vinegar will boil, steam up and loosen all the gunk stuck to the roof of your microwave from cooking spaghettio's without a paper towel over them. Once it's done, grab a sponge or a paper towel or a clean holey sock that you're gonna throw away anyway and wipe it all off. Much easier than scrubbing and scrubbing.

2. Shower/bath: Sprinkle baking soda on the floor of your bathtub or shower and on the knobs, then lay either paper towels or rags on the baking soda and pour vinegar over them. It helps if your bathtub/shower is plugged, that way you can let the shtuff sit there and soak. Depending on how bad it is, let it soak for a while, adding more vinegar to the rags/paper towels if need be. Sometimes I also add a bit of Dawn dish soap. When I feel like it's soaked enough, I wipe it down with the paper towels/rags, run water over it and voila! Done! If your bathing area is really scummy you can scrub the solution in and then rinse it off.

3. Shower/bath: I always keep a little scrubber full of 1/2 Dawn and 1/2 vinegar in the shower and scrub the walls down while I'm taking a shower. Why not? It takes 2 minutes and saves me a lot of time. I saw this on pinterest, and they were using a long-handled, hollow sponge. I tried that but it failed miserably because it wouldn't go into the small spaces I needed it to go, so I tried one of the little ones, and that worked gobs better.

This kind!

I really use baking soda and vinegar in almost every household task, from dishes that are super nasty (we all know those sippy cups that have been left in the car for too long get stinky and moldy), to laundry (especially diaper laundry), to mopping and disinfecting.

This is so much more convenient I don't know why anyone would spend tons of money on twenty different potentially harmful products.

13 months!

My baby is not a baby anymore!

She walks, talks so much she can tell me exactly what she wants, and has made messing up the living room into a science.

Tonight is a rare night I got to myself, so I could clear the living room of toys and baby books, and I miss her so much. It's only been 4 hours but I feel like a part of me is missing.

She took her first steps trying to get to the in-law's dog, Buddy. That whole day she walked like a pro, toddling from JP to me and to her toys. The next morning she realized that she could fall, and since then she only takes a few tentative steps. I think she's getting more used to it though, and hopefully soon she'll be running through the house.

She also talks so much more/so much better! I can ask her where her dinosaur is, and she'll show it to me, but if I ask her if she wants to go see her dinosaur, she'll shake her head no or yes (no for the dinosaur because she's still terrified of it!). She understands the difference between going somewhere and knowing what/where it is.

Pip and Willow frolicking in the leaves. 

She's also said more words! Pip, my grandfather's dog, car, nose, toes. . But mostly, she knows what things are and is practicing how to say them. She know's where her hair/hat, belly, vagina (yes, we're teaching her the actual words for her body parts), fingers, eyes, teeth and tongue are.

She knows when she's making a poopoo (hooray for the first steps towards potty training. . Also, did I mention my baby isn't a baby anymore?!?) and has only peed on my mom's bathroom floor when her diaper was off (twice, so maybe it's because the floor is wood and she can see her pee?).

In other news, she's also developed quite an attitude. I've heard about the terrible two's, but I think they start about now and escalate. She's started yelling "no, no, no!" when she doesn't want to do something or knows she's not supposed to do something. . . Which is weird because we rarely yell at her, unless it's something serious and we need her attention right then. She's stopped whining when she doesn't want to do something or is put into her pack and play or excersauser and started talking angrily. It's adorable for about a second. She also goes limp and lays on the floor when we try to get her to go somewhere. But, all in all, her attitude isn't that bad, and really, what can I expect. . She's my kid!!

She has 7 teeth. Four on the top front, two on the bottom and one molar. It took a few weeks to get used to her having front teeth, but they're adorable and it looks like she'll have a gap in her teeth like I do! (D'awww!)


Edit: Holy god! I forgot to mention that she's sleeping on her own now. Yeah. I finally decided to get it done, so we changed her crib into a toddler bed, put it on bed risers so it was fairly level to our bed (which is on a box spring) and just did it. Obviously, I am against the cry it out method. Not only does it seem heartless, but I must confess that I tried it twice. It was a few months ago and even though I had heard all the bad stuff and really, really didn't agree with it, it was like 4 am and I was at my wits end. But it didn't work. At all.

So, what we did try is I nursed her till she was full, then laid right next to her, but in our bed, and she in her crib. I sang to her, patted her back, let her nurse (while leaning over into her crib) when she was crying harder than I thought was ok and generally comforted her. It took an hour and forty five minutes the first night. An hour and forty five minutes of crying. It was awful. But, I never left her side. I sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Goddamn Star until I honestly didn't even know the meaning of the words anymore. But she fell asleep eventually. The next day it was only about 45 minutes of crying. And now, on a bad night, it'll be 30 minutes of tossing and turning and trying to come into our bed. Usually she tries to make me talk or laugh or distract me. "Mama? Mama? Toes." *Bounces* "Dog." On a good night, she crawls into her crib herself, turns over onto her belly and is out. She actually sleeps better on her own!!!! And so do I!

I'm going to miss sleeping next to her, but it's not that different, because she's only two feet away from me now, and if she or I need cuddles, we have immediate access to them. I don't know if this is considered co sleeping, but it's pretty awesome.

Her sleeping right next to me was awesome in it's own way, but honestly, overall, I don't like co sleeping. (Crunch gasp commence.) Maybe it's because I have a fucked up back but it is uncomfortable and sucks most of the time. But this has all the benefits without being sandwiched between a snoring man and a snoring baby in a full sized bed.

Hanging out at Yiayia's house.

Dogs are still her favorite, and she can identify them, ducks (aka all birds) and cats with ease. She also knows cow, but that one is a little more difficult for her to identify, though she knows the noise they make. We're currently working on elephant, monkey, sheep, and horse.

A picture JP took of us for Sierra DeMulder's upcoming video of one of her poems.

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he's so gay

Ray Boltz, a super, duper popular Christian contemporary music star came out of the closet a few years ago. I only just found out about it because, you know, I don't really follow that scene anymore.

He was one of my favorites as a kid. His lyrics were poetic and usually told a beautiful story. I absolutely loved him. My dad loves him too. Boltz is either his favorite singer, or in the top 2-3.

I hate to admit this, because it's kind of mean-spirited, but goddammit, I'm like a kid at Christmas! I cannot wait to tell him. Why? Because it'll irk him. He may even get rid of his CD's. But most importantly, I'm excited for my dad to think about this. I want to bring up a conversation about it that isn't initiated by him being bigoted and me trying to keep quiet while still defending the LGBT community.

Boltz very much still believes in Jesus. His blog features some of his newer music, very LGBT centered, because he's finally free to admit it, and also because most Christians/Christian radio stations shun him now.

Here's my favorite of his new songs:



I think it is absolutely an amazing story. He was married to his wife for 30 years. They had kids. But he started feeling like he couldn't hide anymore. And now he's a better person. That's really an inspiration to me, especially seeing a Christian be loving, honest and not an asshole.

How will I bring this all up to my dad? I'll probably tell him the news and then ask him to sit down and watch For The Bible Tells Me So, a documentary exploring and challenging fundamentalist Christian's view of homosexuality.

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and now for our regularly scheduled programming

So, I've had a hard time writing lately because there's so much that I don't feel 100% comfortable sharing on this blog. Not because of my readers, but because of family or acquaintances from my past who may be judgmental or gossipy. I worry a lot about what would happen if someone were to find this blog and tell my parents about it.

I mean, I've told them about it. At some point, before I started sharing personal stuff that went against their beliefs, I even gave my dad the link. But, clueless as he can oftentimes be, he lost it, and my secrets have been safe.

That said, I have relatives who are friends with me on Facebook, and my blog used to feed directly onto my Facebook. My greatest fear is that someone will decide that it's their business to gossip to my parents.

This used to happen to me all the time as a kid. Obviously, it made more sense then. But, if you knew me, it didn't. See, telling my parents just drove me to hide things more. They were the worst people to tell. Now, it really doesn't matter what they know or how they'll react because I can leave. I have a safe place. I should own up to everything I don't want to tell them because it would make me stronger. . 

But I'd rather not. I'm a pussy. I don't want judgement, or tears, or talks, or having to get mad at them, or having to try to reason with them, or getting up and exercising my right to leave. It makes things messy.

I am my mother's lifeline. I hate it. But, I can honestly say that she very well might die with out me. Like, if I were to say, "hey, mom, you kind of fucked my life up a lot and I hate how you excuse it by saying that everyone makes mistakes", and then I left, she'd curl up on the couch and probably never move. I hope I'm exaggerating. I might be making this up. But I have seen her fall apart and I have heard her tell me that I will be the death of her, and that I will cause her heart to stop and her mind to break too many times to dismiss her words. 

So, to recap, I am terrified of my parents finding out about my blog and "you like girls?" "you smoke weed?" "you hate us?". . But, that said, it's really hard for me to not say what's on my heart. And there's a lot on my heart.

This blog is sort of my sounding board. I love it when people read it but I would keep writing if no one saw it but me. This is how I straighten my ideas out. This is how the clusterfuck tumbleweed that is my brain starts unraveling. I get stuck when I can't blog about things. 

So, for my own sort of peace of mind, I'm going to offer a disclaimer here: If you don't want to read about my fuckedupness, leave. If you're related to me, you do not want to be reading this. Why would you even be here in the first place? This is the corner of Bad Childhood and WTF Boulevard. If you decide this makes good gossip and I hear about it, then karma. Don't fuck with it. Also, I might just fucking decide to go all Kali witchy on you and if I do, it will not be pretty. 

I've been debating writing this blog for about a year and a half. Forgive me if I stall or repeat myself.

Lately I've been feeling broken. Abnormal. Even unfixable. I see the world and how it reacts to things and I feel so far removed. I don't/can't enjoy sex. 

Let me pause a moment and elaborate on how fucking embarrassed this makes me feel. As I mentioned, it makes me feel broken, but to make matters worse it's not a normal type of broken. When I was depressed or suicidal or had an eating disorder I guess I subconsciously took some sort of solace in the fact that this was normal. . At least for people my age. It wasn't that wierd. But this is. 

I sat on the exam table at my gynecologist and tried and tried to figure out some way to mention it offhandedly or even grow the balls to mention it straight up, but instead I just made small talk and told her that next time she should take me out to dinner first.

I pride myself in being an open book to pretty much anyone but my parents, people who tell my parents things, and my relatives. Anything. Seriously. Rape? Cutting? The shame I felt while binging? I find that the less secrets I have the less complicated life is. I also find that it opens people up to me and allows them to feel more comfortable asking for help or relating their own horror, or not horror, stories.

But this is haaaaaard. This is the first time I've really had to force myself to share. 

I'm not going to get into the details, because that's fucking weird, but it's forced JP and I to take a step back. Before we even started talking about marriage, we knew that we had backed ourselves up into a corner, and the only steps were to take the exit door or fight the Orc with the bulging forehead veins. So, we're at this point where we're fighting for our relationship. We're either going to fix our problems and start fucking like bunnies and get married, or we're going to take a step back in our relationship, at least for a period of time.

This has caused me a lot of anxiety. I realize that there's really no way out of this. I also realize that it isn't either of our faults. But it breaks my heart because my romantic, air balloon dreams of the pre-engagement, engagement and wedding period of my life have turned into this weird, awkward ultimatum. 

Sometimes I think we're being too intense. I've had people tell me that sex isn't everything, and I wholeheartedly agree! But, promising to be with someone for 80 years without an orgasm is daunting. There are greater women than me out there, obviously, because I couldn't do it. I would try, and I would, but after a few years I would get bitter and frustrated and we'd end up leaving each other anyways. 

We're young. And though we're each others best friends, partners, confidantes, and are always there for each other, there has to be more than that. At least for me. . .

I've struggled a lot about why I don't enjoy sex. I started going back to counseling, and ultimately have been dragging JP with me every week. There has been some talk of going from a regular ole grad-student-in-psych-interning-at-the-local-health-department to a full fledged sex therapist. 

There have been theories tossed around, from plain jane trust issues to remnants of sexual abuse to the weird way my parents raised me and how they completely refused to tell me that humans are sexual beings. Who knows what caused it? All I know it sucks really, really huge balls.

Now, the fact that this makes me feel abnormal and broken does not mean I'm depressed. I mean, yes, I am depressed about this certain topic, but for the first time in my life I am dealing with a major problem and not letting it control my entire view and way of life. 

I am fine. I enjoy life. I'm happy. I laugh, and play with Willow, and absolutely annihilate JP at Mario Kart on the '64. There are nights when I feel really, really sad and really, really broken. But overall, it's just a bump in the road. I finally feel like I know myself well enough that I am confident that I will beat the living shit out of this problem. I've been through worse. 

So, now that that's over, enjoy this not depressing picture:

You're welcome.

animalistic accomplishments

If I were an animal, I'd like to be a horse. They're majestic, fast, and just fucking beautiful. . .

But honestly, if I were an animal, I'd probably be a dog. Like a shih tzu. They're kind of dumpy, kind of adorable and their hair is all DF:OIEIEF.

That was an easy one. Let's jump to the next question:

What are my 5 biggest accomplishments?

1. Breastfeeding for over a year. I would say having Willow, but it was kind of inevitable. I didn't do anything. Some moms will argue that they did work and achieve etc. during the birthing process, but I feel that when it came down to it, I couldn't stop it and I had to go along for the ride, so it was sort of something I endured. Wait, that makes it sound like having Willow was an awful experience. It wasn't. Parts of it were but all in all it was the best time of my life. Not an accomplishment though.

Breastfeeding, on the other hand, was something I thought of as a good thing, but was sure I wouldn't be able to do, at least not for long. I didn't want to do it. Formula feeding seemed easier, and quite honestly, though all the research and even the formula companies themselves said breast milk was better, somewhere inside me I thought formula was better.

But now, 12 months and counting into this milky mess, I love it. I couldn't imagine waking up in the middle of the night with a crying baby and making a bottle. No, siree. Rolling over sounds much easier (thank you co-sleeping!).

Reading all the statistics and research on formula I can't imagine how I thought it was better than the thing it was trying to copy. I am so glad I tried breastfeeding. . And kept to it even though I wanted to quit.

2. Getting published. Enough said.

3. Recovery. There are times I wonder how I made it, and there are times I forget it's been years and am instantly back at my hardest times. . But each day is easier. And though I wouldn't consider myself cured, I have reasons to keep living now.

4. Making my relationship work. I know we've only been dating for 3 years. I know it doesn't seem long, and it shouldn't, because 3 years isn't long at all, but there have been multiple times when the easiest thing to do would have been to say "fuck it" and walk out. It would have been easy, but not right. I love JP and though we're not married I want to stay by his side. I understand that sometimes relationships don't work out and am not scared to walk away, I just chose not to. Not now. Not until it's irreparable. I am not nothing without him. I am strong individually but I recognize that we are stronger individually when we're together. We aren't really boyfriend and girlfriend, we're more like partners. I love that.

5. Horseback riding. I loved it. It gave me goals and it was tangible. I really, really do miss it.

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one!

Willow Rae

Age: One Year. 

Method of Transportation: Knees and hands.

Favorites: Dog, Batman, Mama, Dada, Yiayia, taking socks off, dancing, waving, kisses, squirming, boobies, stealing peoples food, trying to eat anything she finds off the floor, peekaboo, turning the Xbox on and off, opening cabinet doors by herself, shoving her hands in peoples mouths to see what's inside (free prize inside?), balls, books.

Hates: Getting snot sucked out of her nose (who wouldn't!?), long car rides, being told no, having a wet diaper, being away from either mama or dada.

Articulates: Dog, cat, duck, cow, mama, dada, milk, up, down, ball, stick, go, no, cake, mummum (food), yiayia, whaz dat?, bubble, and more that I can't remember right now. 

This has been the best year of my life. I would rather spend a minute with my smart, beautiful little girl than spend a lifetime with anyone else. She makes us a family.

strong

I always wanted to be Xena. She was bad ass, sexy, and an individual. My parents wanted me to wait to be rescued, so that's what I learned, but I've always aspired to rescue myself.

Strong has been one of those words I've held on to when I wasn't. When I wasn't brave, I'd chant it like a mantra. When I felt powerless, I screamed powerful.

Here are 5 strengths I have identified in myself without qualifiers and without apologies.

1. I am strong. Looking at what I've been through, and knowing that I am still happy, still able to get up and get dressed. . I am strong.

2. I am a great mom.

3. I care for other people and their feelings even if they have wronged me.

4. I forgive people very easily. Grudges have never been easy for me to keep.

5. I am changing. It's the hardest thing I have ever done, but slowly, I am becoming stronger. Every day I find new things that I like about myself, and that is so much more than I thought I would be able to do.

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weakness

Lately has been. . busy. We went to a farm today, tonight JP gets a second sleep study, tomorrow is counseling and doctors appointments and a bi-monthly shopping trip.

Wedding/civil union/handfasting plans are still getting tossed around. We want it outside, simple, and JP wants it within a year. We're thinking about combining our last names to Scarmont. Crazy idea, right? Here's our reasoning:

I don't want to change my last name. At all. I like it. Buuuuuut, tradition states I should take JP's last name. But I don't really like his last name, mostly because it's not mine. Also, because goddammit, I will not take the man's name he can take mine or we can hyphenate blahblahfeministblah.

Also, JP brought up Scarmont as a joke. If I got my doctorate, I'd be Dr. Scarmont and I could wear a lab coat and carry a beaker with bubbling green goo in it. It would be awesome. We'd buy an island, call it Scarbabia populate it.

And then he thought about it longer, and decided that awesome super villain plans aside, it would be symbolic of our new union. We'd be making a new family, together, as a team. Keeping our last names would be all seperatey and not reflective of our new united force against the world, but me taking his last name is unfair to me and kind of an archaic misogynistic tradition. So, a new name using parts of our old names is all adorable and sweet.

But we're still discussing it. I'm not sold 100% yet, mostly because I don't want to hear it from my relatives. Or his. And that is sure to happen.

Moving on. Five weaknesses I have.

1. I am lazy. God, am I lazy. I could lay in bed allllll day with a book. Or without a book. I love lounging. But thankfully I have JP to kick me in the ass and get me moving. Also, I can't lounge as nearly much as I used to with Willow around.

2. I can be a pig. Left to my own devices, I can really get messy. It's gotten worse since JP and I got together because he's a guy, and he's about a million times grosser than I am. That said, it's gotten much better since Willow was born. Also, it's worst when I'm depressed.

3. I'm quick to judge. Sometimes I forget that I don't know the whole story, or that it's none of my damn business and getting all judgy is just going to screw up my day and not theirs.

4. I'm not good with commitment. Of any kind. I get bored too easily.

5. I'm awful at interpersonal relationships.

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a day in the life

A normal day for us varies a lot. It depends on if it's a weekend (I work) or one of JP's weekends (Wednesdays and every other Thursday).

On a day when neither of those are happening, Willow will wake us up around 8-10, depending on how well she slept the night before. Then we'll cuddle in bed and play for a bit, and then take a walk. Usually JP takes her by himself while I have some me time, but sometimes I come along.

After their walk, which usually lasts at least an hour and almost always includes the park and downtown Dwight for a visit with JP's parents, we eat lunch. Usually something easy and light like sandwiches.

We hang out for a little bit more, then Willow starts getting tired and JP starts getting ready for work. She goes down for a nap around 3, and he leaves for work at 3:45. I usually either nap with her or try to get housework done. . . Though sometimes I end up just watching Grey's or derping around on my phone while cuddling her.

She wakes up around 4:30-5 and we play. We'll switch rooms and toys so she doesn't get bored, she'll watch Baby Einstein, or we'll watch youtube videos of cats and dogs. Sometimes we dance, othertimes she's teething and we just cuddle and play in bed. Sometimes we take walks, or sit out in our yard and play with the grass. Once in a while I'll let her be naked in the tub until she's bored and then give her a bath.

And then at around 9-9:30, I put her to bed. She's started sucking at sleeping, so she might wake up once before JP comes home (12:20 or so) and then a few times while he and I are hanging out, watching tv or playing video games. We head to bed around 2-3 and thus ends another boring day in the Scarmont household.

*yawn* Seriously, guys, our life's a bore, but I like it that way. If you made it all the way through, you deserve a prize. . . So, here you go:

peeved

1. People chewing with their mouths open. This started at church camp when I would be laying in a bunk pretending to be asleep and all the other girls would be gossiping and eating all night. I could hear the chips crunch and the soda get swallowed. Gag.

2. Sexism. This isn't really a pet peeve as much as a real issue. Which brings me to the last issue of The Paper. Our dear Mr. Boma's topic this week was laundry. Soiled clothes. He bitches about not knowing how to do it until he arrives at the conclusion that he'll just find a pretty girl to do it. I can't wait for the day life slaps him in the face.

3. When JP leaves his deodorant on the sink. We have the tiniest sink ever, and it only has room for our toothbrush holder and toothbrushes, the "fancy" soap (aka the non-health food store soap, reserved for guests because the good stuff is fucking expensive) and sometimes the health food store soap. . Though usually I put it back in the bathtub because we use it both places. Anyways, there is no room for his deodorant which inevitably gets knocked to the ground and is loud at times when Willow is asleep.

4. Leaving unnecessary lights on. Actually, wasting electricity in general, though the exception is when I'm home alone with Willow, sometimes I'll leave lights on to make it look like we're not asleep because I'm a paranoid crazy lady.

5. Annoying customers. Like the guy who complained that Obama made his truck a gas gussler the gas too high. Or the man who was wearing a shirt using the word gay as a derogatory term.

6. When people say I have an accent. Apparently I say "bag" like "beg".

7. Which leads me to- herb. The h is silent. Completely silent.

8. Ketchup. Not catsup.

9. People driving on shoulders. Actually, bad drivers. I get road rage like crazy sometimes. But people driving on the shoulder or making lanes drives me the most insane.

10. JP talking about the same things over and over again. I have heard about how a guy wanted $20 for a broken down pachinko machine that JP only wanted to pay $2 about 80 times since it happened. . Three days ago. I offered to help egg his house but he's too chicken.

In other news, people in Dwight pretty much all suck. Some random lady I have never met decided she was mad at JP's dad so she was all like. . I wonder how he feels about his granddaugher who was born out of wedlock and hoitytoity I'm a bitch-face. . .

Also, JP and I are thinking of getting married. Or civil unioned. . Civil unionized? One of those. Still trying to figure out the logistics but basically it comes down to if either one of us is ever mangled unconscious, we want the other one of us to be able to visit us in the hospital/make medical decisions for us. Romantic, eh? So after we figure out prenup stuff, how taxes will work, etc, etc, we'll tie the knot.

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and then i lost my top

Howdy, loverfaces.

Today's topic is my most embarassing moment, but first, a mini Willow update!

She says "uh oh!" now and it's the cutest thing ever. Cuter than when she says mama. Also, she sings and reads herself stories (she'll flip the pages and say random words she knows or just babble). People tell me this is normal but, fuck you, I have the smartest, cutest baby ever.

Now, on to story time, this time illustrated. Aren't you lucky!

Once upon a time, I was on vacation with Rachel's family who I basically lived with at the time. We were at the Wisconsin Dells and they have this, like, surfing thing where there's waves and they teach you how to stay on the board. . Or try to. Whelp. . . I sucked. And one time it went like:

Sexy dude. Sexy dude trying to teach me to surf. Ok, I can do this.

I can do this!!

. . .

Do not want.

So. . It went like that, except I wasn't wearing a t-shirt that time. I was just wearing my bikini top. And with the strength of the water and tumbling up to the top, it came loose. Aaaaaaaaaand there was boobage for the world to see.

There you have it. My most embarrassing moment, in pictures, taken by Rachel's mom.

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passion

Wooohooo! This blog now has over 4,000 hits. That's crazy!!

Today's topic is about things I am passionate about. Five things, to be specific. Be warned, this is going to be a crazy hippie mommy rant.

1. Routine infant circumcision. Seriously the dumbest thing in the world. The AAP (American Academy of Pediatrics) and most health organizations recommend against routine infant circumcision. . Because it's not needed and has no benefits. Some people say it prevents HIV, cervival/penile cancer, and makes a circumcised penis easier to clean, thus keeping it from getting infected (you clean it like you would a finger, with soap and water. . And never, ever, ever, retract the foreskin unless it has done so by itself, naturally!). All that is basically a big, steaming pile of bull shit. Circumcision was brought into popular medicinal use (not religious, like Jews) by Dr. John Harvey Kellogg of Kellogg cereal. Why? Because he was crazy Christian and said it would keep little boys from masturbating, which was a deadly sin. They also thought circumcision would cure epilepsy. . Man, were they wrong.

Edit 9/11/12: The AAP has since retracted pussied out on their stance on circumcision now stating that it may be beneficial. The Whole Network responded.

This is how a circumcision is performed. Sexual feeling is greatly decreased (I think 40% less, but I'm not sure of the number and can't find it at the moment) and what happens when something goes wrong as it too often does? Death, amputation, disfigurement, trauma. All a ridiculous risk for a cosmetic surgery on an consenting minor. If the kid grows up and decides he wants his penis cut, he can do it then.

The Whole Network has more information, if you'd like to check it out.

2. Equal rights. Can we please just get over stupidity and let people that want to get married get married? This shouldn't even be an issue. . Neither should circumcision, though.

3. Drug companies/Immunizations. We have put off immunizing Willow until she is at least 2 years old, but I would prefer never. The ingredients in vaccines are terrifying and just the fact that they have tried to contact me through text, snail mail, email and phone (all sponsored by Pfizer!!!) makes me extremely wary of them and their agenda.

4. General nerdery. Wonder Woman, Batman, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Xena, mythology, psychology, sociology. . . It's ridiculous how nerdy I am. If I wanted to, I would never have to leave the house because the internet would make me a total hikikomori. I have everything I need. Except snacks. .  .

5. Ending cannabis prohibition. I've never really talked about this on here, but I am quite passionate about it. I believe that the goddess put everything on earth for a reason, and that if we think some plant, bug, or animal is useless, science just hasn't found out what it's useful for. I definitely, definitely think weed should be legalized, thus fixing the economy (tax the shit out of it and pizza ((you know, for munchies)), and you'll save the economy!) and allowing it to be used medicinally, which might save a lot of people.

Some people claim that cannabis can help (or even cure!) sufferers of cancer, diabetes, insomnia, ulcers, arthritis and more.

Disclaimer: I thoroughly believe that too much of anything is a bad thing. Though no one has ever died from cannabis overdose (since they fall asleep before levels of toxicity reach lethal levels), studies are inconclusive as to whether or not heavy cannabis users can get addicted to it. So, I definitely think moderate use of cannabis is the smartest idea, because everyone knows bugging out is no fun. . But other than that, I fully support toking up.

So, that's that. There are tons more things I am passionate about, but for now, I think it's best that I cuddle with my kiddo in bed, because it's late.

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on doing what i love

My dream job would be wading through the muck of peoples inner demons, sorting them into neat little piles with the edges trimmed out, labeling them, shredding them, lighting fire to the shreds and using the ashes to finger paint acceptance onto their memories.

I love awful movies. Movies where the protagonist gets murderdeathkilled, heroinfaceraped, and has to watch their family go through Chinese water torture. Seriously though. I love thinking about their lives, how I could help them, or what they're thinking and sometimes I can relate to them. Movies like that make me feel like someone understands something or other about me. . . Understands how it feels to be alone, or sad, or hurt or whatever. Also, a cathartic cry never hurt anyone, bitches.

I used to check out psych textbooks from my school library. When I was twelve. And read them all the away through. Multiple times. I was a weird kid, with a fascination for sadness. Again, I think it's because I related.

So, my dream job is being a psychologist.

Because I love figuring people out, and attempting to figure myself out.

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ten months?!?!

My little girl is ten whole months old. Ten of them!!

She's crawling, pulling herself up on things and sometimes cruising along them, hamming it up whenever she knows she's got an audience and otherwise just being adorable.

She loves: her Dada, Batman, my mom, walks,dos boobies, swinging on the swing, clapping, pointing at things and occasionally waving when she feels like it.

She is scared of: her dinosaur, but is slowly warming up to it, random things when she's tired.

She says: Dada (constantly!), Baba (Batman), hi, bye bye, bye bye/hi dada/mama, papa, book and egg.

Before her glory days. (Don't mind me, I was pregnant and it was 100 degrees out so I officially didn't give a flying fuck.)

Guyyyys! It's bright out here. And my head's huge.

One month old!!!!

Baba!

10 months of cuddly happiness all rolled into one chubby package.

I love her so, so, so, so, so much!!! It's not even funny how much I love this girl, guys. Sometimes it scares me.

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what doesn't kill you. . .

The hardest thing I've ever had to go through. . Damn.

Um. It's kind of hard to pick one because they were all hard in different ways.

I think I'm going to have to go with loosing Chatham, and that whole time period in my life. Not only was having to go through an almost 2nd trimester miscarriage without a D&C awful, but it just ripped my brain to shreds.

I was also all alone in a town I was unfamiliar with, with no friends. I was depressed as all balls before I miscarried and the possibility (it wasn't a possibility in my head though, it was a certainty) of a baby drew me out of my depression and got me eating better.

That was actually the lowest weight I had been at in years, just skipping meals for days and even weeks at times. . It was just really easy to do by avoiding the cafeteria.

But-- I was eating. And tracking my intake and making sure I was getting enough protein (I was still a veggie at the time) and fats etc.

My med combo wasn't working at all and all I did was sleep. . In class, mostly. Actually, just everywhere. It was super embarrassing but I would just fall asleep when I didn't even want to (probably because I wasn't eating). My class notes go "and in 1852 General Batman sadhehwn iehfi hf fjeheiedhdi feejffh hie fjeejejefjeie.

Oh, and in the margins are absolutely awful things I had written about myself or plans about what I would eat if I could. Damn eating disorder. Even as I'm writing this I feel sad for who I was but part of me misses all of it.

And after I miscarried I dropped out of school because I couldn't concentrate at all.   But I felt like the biggest failure for dropping out. I knew I was smart, but I knew I would have killed myself, and to this day I know it was the right decision but I wish I hadn't made it. Now it's so much harder to go back even though I want to.

So, that's the hardest part of my life. It's a little random and disjointed but it's hard to remember because all I remember is a resounding DEPRESSED.

So much happier now. :]

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wtf, the paper type people, and influences

Our local paper, simply (ironically, stupidly, etc. . ) named "The Paper" sucks. It literally hurts me to see it in my mailbox every Wednesday. After writing for both the Quincy Herald and the State Journal Register, I'd like to think I know good journalism when I see it, but damn, Dwight, what is this shit? Basically a calendar of events for Dwight and surrounding areas, The Paper rarely covers news stories.

This week, the upcoming barn crawl is front and center, while the Shopko that just replaced Pamida is on page 3.

At least Willow likes it (4 months old)

Now, I realize nothing ever happens around here (forgive my cynicism, I hate this place) so I guess I'll cut The Paper some slack.

Nope. Not happening. Because every week a column titled "5 Minutes with Boma" happens. A recent graduate of Dwight high school, Boma is also the son of the owner of The Paper. When I learned this, the world made sense again. . Because there is no way any person in their right mind would let this guy write for the general public unless it was nepotism.

This week, he listed his favorite foods. I did that in kindergarten. Cottage cheese and apple sauce, fudge cookies dipped in chocolate frosting-- damn, I didn't even eat like this when I was whale-sized, nine months into being pregnant with Willow. Gross.

The grammar is atrocious, the editing fails consistently and it just needs someone has a semblance of what they're doing to fix it.

And with that rant, which I've been meaning to make for weeks, I move on.

Ten people who have influenced my life. (Edit, for some reason I jumped to number 9. . . Crazy mommy brain.)

1. My boyfraaaand. I can't say enough about him. He's my best friend.

2. J.R.R. Tolkein. I have read the LOTR books 9 times in one summer. I'm a fanatic. If there was a street gang, I'd be their leader.

3. Jamie Tworkowski. Jamie has a blog at Jamie Writes and it's amazing. His words make me soar.

4. Walt Whitman. I have spent countless an afternoon sitting on top of washing machines having gay sex with men and being a crazy vagabond with untamed white hair. Also, he's my husband. Bon Jovi and Whitman.

5. Mr. Nicholes. He was one of two that visited me in the psych ward. His wife brought me a teeny little photo album and he brought me the world in the form of a poem. I still have it. It still makes me cry.

6. Professor Watson. She believed I was good at my dreams which gave me the courage to be good at my dreams. I learned to speak before I thought and chart sociology on star graphs.

7. Professor Udel. Not my favorite professor but her choice in literature is fantastic. Bless Me, Ultima, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, Lies my History Teacher Told Me.

8. Joss Whedon. Buffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffy. Fan girl orgasm commence.

9. My dad. I'm so thankful I don't believe in the invisible man in the sky anymore.

10.  Is a tie between Don Miller and Sierra DeMulder. He taught me that not all Christians are crazy and ridiculous. Also, Blue Like Jazz. And Sierra's poetry gives me goose bumps.
 
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PS: Good journalism, granted video journalism, to me, would be Philly D / Phillip DeFranco. The title of this post is a nod to him.

you make me smile like the sun

Five things that make me the happiest right now:

1. Willow. She's my light. Look at how cute she is!!!

2. That dude that hangs out at my house and sleeps in my bed and asks me to cook food for him. He's pretty awesome. Oh, he's also Willow's dad.

3. This blog. It amazes me that people want to read what I write.

4. Angel. Even though I've watched Buffy to completion, sometimes my friends show up in Angel. The show's not too bad itself.

5. Our family. This might seem redundant but I can't think of a number five. Also, I love us, as a unit. I love snuggling in bed together.