While the Mom is Away…

The Juggernaut had a day off from preschool today, so he was home with Husbandito. This is their day as summarised by Husbandito’s text messages:

  • Status here is that Cheerios have a good buckshot effect when The Juggernaut is frustrated.  He’s currently eating them off the floor after throwing them at me twice  – first because Liz Lemon ate one and then because I farted. I have not yelled yet.
  • He keeps asking for you and only listens when I say something four times in a row at increasing volume levels.
  • He just shit his pants to spite me.
  • Just had a meltdown again.  He wanted a four-minute time out, not a three minute one.
  • He just threw pissy underwear at my face after peeing on his beanbag chair.
  • Also, we need to teach The Juggernaut the meaning of the word “accident” when it comes to relieving himself in his pants.

My husband is a saint.



Mr. Smith Has Left Washington.

My interest in politics began at a very young age. I believe I asked my Republican mother to please vote for Jimmy Carter rather than give me a birthday gift when I was about three-years-old (this explains a lot about The Juggernaut) and I used to carry a book bag that said “I was born liberated” on it (this went over huge with the nuns at Catholic school).
There have been candidates that I have believed in with every fiber of my being and none more so than Bernie Sanders – I once contemplated moving to Vermont just so I could vote him into the Senate. When he announced his candidacy, I felt a little sad, honestly. It was sort of like when a band you’ve been following for years suddenly gets some recognition – you’re happy for them, but they’re YOUR’S – you found them first, and now suddenly everyone loves them. That’s how I feel about Bernie. I truly thought all that would happen is he’d move the conversation slightly to the left of moderate and nothing more. It wasn’t until his rallies started drawing thousands of people that I believed he actually had a chance to really make a difference. Possibly even become president.
I have watched in disbelief and horror as mainstream media and the DNC actively ignored and then basically suppressed the Sanders campaign. I find it baffling that a US citizen cannot join the military if under investigation by the FBI, but apparently are allowed to run for the office that is in charge of it. That’s just wrong. Honestly, I once believed that anyone could be POTUS. I now know the only way anyone becomes president of the United States is to lie, cheat, and steal their way into office.
I realize Senator Sanders is not going to be president, but I still support his fight and am glad he’s hanging tough until Philadelphia. It’s about more than just rolling over and uniting a party that so blatantly has no regard for him – it’s about following through on promises made to the people who support him and his philosophies. It’s about finally creating a progressive platform for a party that is almost impossible to discern from the GOP of 30 years ago. What Sanders is offering the DNC is a chance to actually make a difference in the lives of the people in this country, not more of the same old same old.
As a nation, we have become the worst version of ourselves and our current presumptive candidates for the GOP and Dem tickets reflect this. We had a chance to be great – to truly change America for the better – and we chose mediocrity. Whatever happens going forward, there is no one to blame but ourselves and our shortsighted vision of the future.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Clearly, ‘Idiocracy’ was a documentary.

With A Little Help

I’m am so sick of being sick.

I think most everyone with an autoimmune disease feels like this, but last night was especially hard. I was sick again with swollen joints, all over pain that sort of makes me question why I go on, and a level of fatigue I’ve never felt – not even when The Juggernaut was an infant and I wasn’t sleeping at all. It was a friend’s birthday and a few people went out to celebrate it and I couldn’t go. Again. Because I’m sick. And broke from being sick in the first place. So I was feeling sorry for myself on an epic level. I could not get out of it, so matter what I did. ALL I saw was the negative and the poor me and the wah wah wah. WHY did this happen to me? WHY am I sick all the time? WHY isn’t my life exactly the way I want it to be? Seriously, Vivian Leigh would have been proud at the melodramatic dialogue in my head. I went to the dark side. I tend to do that. I know…I’m ridiculous.

It comes down to this: I want to feel better. I want to pain and the brain fog and the exhaustion to go away once and for all. I know I’m going to have this for the rest of my life, but it doesn’t have to be this bad all the time. There’s a treatment and I want it. I want it BAD. The total cost is not covered by my insurance (only the lab work is covered) and we are absolutely tapped out. It’s infutiating to have a solution so close and completely out of reach at the same time. One of my friends started a GoFundMe to pay for my medical treatment, so I’m posting it here in case anyone is able to help me out. https://www.gofundme.com/23z2s5g A lot of people have already and for that, I am eternally grateful.

I’m closing this post with someone else’s poetry. They can say this way better than I ever could or would.

What would you think if I sang out of tune
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song
And I’ll try not to sing out of key
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm I get high with a little help from my friends
Mm gonna try with a little help from my friends

What do I do when my love is away?
(Does it worry you to be alone?)
How do I feel by the end of the day?
(Are you sad because you’re on your own?)
No I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm I get high with a little help from my friends
Mm gonna try with a little help from my friends

(Do you need anybody?)
I need somebody to love
(Could it be anybody?)
I want somebody to love

(Would you believe in a love at first sight?)
Yes I’m certain that it happens all the time
(What do you see when you turn out the light?)
I can’t tell you, but I know it’s mine
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm I get high with a little help from my friends
Oh I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends

(Do you need anybody?)
I just need someone to love
(Could it be anybody?)
I want somebody to love

Oh I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm gonna try with a little help from my friends
Oh I get high with a little help from my friends
Yes I get by with a little help from my friends
With a little help from my friends

– Lennon & McCartney




There’s A Fungus Amongus!

You all know I have been sick for a while – sorry if I kept kvetching, but it’s my reality, my truth, and, let’s be real here, my blog – two autoimmune diseases with no relief in sight. Then, I found an osteopath who specialized in my autoimmune disease and offered me hope. He ran a ton of tests and it turns out, I have a chronic fungal infection in my blood stream that was exacerbated by the toxic mold in our old house. There are tiny lesions on my lungs from breathing the mold spores every day for two years, I have a white blood cell count that’s scary high, and I have to go through some drastic treatment that is not covered by my insurance to get some relief and possibly be back to my former self.

For the last two years, I have been unable to hold a job with any consistency because I am always sick. Luckily, being a freelance writer allows me a little wiggle room for periods of unemployment, but I’ve never straight up not been able to work. As a result, we are some broke-ass mofos over here. We moved out of Fungus Abbey to save money, yes, but it’s because we have no money. None. I’ve had lean times in my adult life, but nothing like this and nothing that ever involved my responsibility to other people (ie. Husbandito and The Juggernaut). I feel like a loser. I feel like I have failed. I feel like I should have just bit the bullet and gone to law school instead of following my dream of being a writer and my financial life would be better. I would be miserable, but there would be a little money in the bank. That’s worth it, right?

There are two fungi at work here: the one slowly trying to literally kill my body and the one that is figuratively killing my soul. I try to have hope. I try not to feel completely defeated every day. I try to keep my head up and greet each day with a new attitude and outlook on life. But these “tries” are covered in mold and illness and despair and I just don’t know if I can do it anymore. I am so exhausted.

So I am putting it out in the world as to not curl up in the fetal position, scream-crying, and eating my own hair. If we do, in fact, reap what we sow, I have been a real fucking dickhead.




A Mother of a Day

I’m sorry I’ve been MIA, my friends. A lot of shit went down in my life and I had about two weeks to reconcile…well, everything. It’s still not settled and I feel untethered, which I hate. I am definitely a person in deep need of a tether.

Yesterday was insanely awful. I woke up angry. Like really angry. The Juggernaut’s preschool had a Mother’s Day breakfast planned for the morning and I wanted to go about as much as I want to give him a baby brother or sister (aka NOT AT ALL). I had no energy to be social with anyone and really just wanted to go home and make some gluten free cinnamon toast and try to finish my newest assignment in the middle of unpacking my downsized space with a New York kitchen and not quite enough storage. GAH!

Then I went outside to sit with the other moms and kids and I saw him. The beautiful little boy who lost his mom to cancer a few months ago, sitting alone at a table, surrounded by other kids with their moms. And my bad mood just melted away. We sat down with him and shared bagels and berries and watermelon and talked about which fruits smoosh the best when you use your thumb. My lovely little only child had no problem sharing me with his friend – it was like he knew. I cried the whole way home for a mom I barely knew who had to leave her little boy too soon. I sobbed and hoped that if my little one is ever in that situation, someone will sit with him and talk to him about whatever he wants. I wept  because kids aren’t supposed to lose their moms (or dads) ever, let along when they are still babies.

I still felt sad, but connected to the world where my sometimes shitty attitude needs to get checked and balanced. And just to get me back on track with being super fucking grouchy, our car was broken into last night.

Well played, Universe. Well played.


Home Is Where the Heart Is

In eight days Husbandito, The Juggernaut, Liz Lemon, and I are moving to a new house. My MIL’s guest house, to be exact, so we’re going to have a family compound. Like the Kennedy family, except Jew-ish and not corrupt. It will be a reprieve of sorts – a chance for me to live in a home not infested with toxic mold that keeps making me more and more ill as days go by. There’s a fantastic park down the street and a huge yard for a boy and his dog to play in for hours. It’s all good stuff.

So why do I feel so bad?

For starters, I feel as though I have failed my family. I am the breadwinner while Husbandito finishes school and because I have been so damn sick, I have been unable to work consistently. I have a few good days and then I’m down for the count. It doesn’t really bode well with employers.

I also feel bad because this place is the home the three of us cultivated together. My son had a lot of his firsts here – first steps, first solid food, first accident that resulted in an ambulance ride during rush hour – you know, all the usual stuff.

There is some mourning that is taking place and I guess the most important thing is that I honor it and move on. My home is wherever my family is and that’s all that matters. They are my heart and my world.

However, I really wish one of them would stop peeing on the rug.


Go Where You Wanna Go

Fuck fuck fuckity FUCK.

That’s about the extent of what I am legally allowed to say about a current situation in my life. There are lawyers and they know so much more that I do, so I am letting go of it in a “Jesus, take the wheel!” moment of surrender. It’s not ideal at Palms Abbey presently, but The Juggernut, Husbandito, and I are trying to be gentle and kind and just LOVE one another right now. We’re a team – our little family – and that’s what you do even when the stress is reigning down like fire from the heavens. So even though there are too many times when tempers flare and words are screamed rather than softly spoken, we pause and hug and say I’m sorry and try to really mean our reactions and behaviors with be amended. It’s fucking difficult, to say the least.

One of my amazing, badass attorneys commanded Husbandito and I to go towards the love during all of this legal mumbo-gumbo. The fact of the matter is we have so much love in our world. Love that I often do not feel like I have earned or am even qualified to accept, let alone return in kind, but it is there and OH MY GOD do we need it right now. We have to do the leaning on rather than be a shoulder to lean on and I hate that more than words can express. But I need to for the good of my family, whom I love more than my own breath.

So I say it here, friends and followers: the next few weeks and months are going to be wicked rough and I’m going to have to let go of a lot of expectations and learn to let love rule. I’m going to need your help.

I’m going to need your help and I have no idea what that looks like.

Jesus, take the wheel, indeed.