Krista is an Idiot

 A few weeks ago we were on our way to my dad's house to help ( this story was over shadowed by the porn story. Which was so horrifying I nearly forgot this gem.). Dad needed David to help cut down some trees. and move the taxidermied bear. As per usual we were running late( David is going to be late to his own funeral, I swear!). We are cruising down the the road , chatting, having a light hearted conversation when we pass a place along the way that does taxidermy.  David started talking about unorthodox taxidermy. It was something Dr. Seuss was into as a hobby. ( learned this tidbit at the ICE show at the Gaylord.)
 

This is what it looks like:

The thing with unorthodox taxidermy is..... basically using real parts of animals and making a new one or mismatching pieces .... think Jackalope 

Anyways, we were talking about this when I looked over at him and asked a serious question.

" Do you think anyone has ever taxidermied a baby?"
 I already know how weird it sounds once spoken out loud...
He looks over at me and recoils in horror.
"WHAT KIND OF SICK SHIT IS THAT!!!!Krista thats fucked up... Oh My God thats so disturbing!!"

"NO, No , No. Not like killing a baby in the wild and then taxiderming it.... like you know how some people taxidermy beloved pets when they die? Kinda like that... you know if the baby dies.. and someone is grieving and doesn't want to bury it. Like that." ( God forbid anything happen to my kids.. but if it did...maybe?)

He still looks unconvinced "Like have it laying in the crib or sit it in a swing?"

" EXACTLY!! "

He asked "Who would DO THAT??"

" I don't know but maybe there is a market for that?" ( there are grieving parents right?)

He looks back over at me and throws his head back and starts roaring with laughter .

" WHAT?"

" What if someone did unorthodox taxidermy to a baby... like putting man size teeth in it's head... grinning , like that commercial where those old people put in the wrong dentures..."

"OMG DAVID!!! NOW WHO IS THE SICK FUCK!!!!"

As wrong and disturbing the whole exchange is, for some reason we can help laughing until we cry.
Yes... this is typical of the both of us ... somehow people still like us.

*I understand that dead babies are no laughing matter, it's actually quite sad. But trying to make things silly is how we deal with the uncomfortable things in life.

Whipped Cream

 Right now we ( David and myself) are getting ready to head down into the basement to watch 'Shameless'.
David is gathering up snacks, lime jell-o (he is on Atkins.. we all must suffer), while I do a pre-bedtime tidy.

Me" Hey do we have whipped cream?"

David "Nope."

Me" Isn't that whats in the green bowl, in the fridge?"

David " Yeah... but its past its prime."

Me"..... I used it yesterday."

David " Well go ahead and try."

I take the green bowl out and it looks alright to me.

David" You might want to stir that."

I take out the spoon and start to stir. Once I get past the surface its this nasty liquid underneath.
"Nope... not gonna work."

David " Hey I can make some really quick."

Me" Can you make it quietly?"

 I ask this because its after bedtime... thats why we get to watch T.V., and our house was built in 1996. For some ungodly reason whoever designed this house put a window from the room Baby sleeps into the playroom... which as it so happens is connected to the kitchen. It makes life a bit difficult when we want to do ANYTHING after his bedtime that involves the kitchen.

David pulls out the hand mixer and the metal bowl. I wonder how disastrous this is actually going to be. He starts walking of the kitchen and towards the laundry room. Ummm? WTF???

 David: "What time is it?"

Me: "10:11pm, why?"

David "Time me." He starts walking out the door, into the garage.

Me "You are making it in THERE???"

David "Yeah, thats where I made it last time."

Me: "No wonder it turned to shit so fast."

When he gets back he has me try it, of course its yumm, even though it is made with Stevia. Which as it happens... is not a horrible substitute for sugar. So YAY! for whipped cream made in the garage.

Coming Outa Both Ends

Tonight started out like any other ordinary night. It is Scumbag's weekend with the kids ( Thats a YAY! and BOO! all wrapped into one. Yay! Because its like a mini vacay , and BOO! because, well, he is a shitty dad after all.).  Anyways, its Friday night and Scumbag is on my front porch. (This is the perfect scenario for my much fantasized  about trap door leading to an alligator pit.)
"I tried calling you.."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah my phone is dead."
"I figured that.."
"Umm yeah, I put it in the washer."
Yup there it is.. the puzzled face. Yea, he isn't too bright so it takes more time than a normal humanoid to process information.Uh.. oooh, oooh, wait... nope he doesn't have it. Maybe next time.

"Ok guys! Princess, shoes and coat. If you don't want a coat grab your hoodie (Nautica, adorable and it was 60% off at the outlet!) Doodle, boots and coat. Picky... coat. NOW! Let's MOVE IT!."
 Doodle and Princess are hugging me and out the door in no time. It's Picky that starts jumping up and down screaming he is going to miss his Nana (nasty, dirty, urine smelling blankie) and that Gogo and Lala (again nasty, dirty, urine smelling...I kid, I kid) are coming down to take him out for ice-cream.

Enter the emotional blackmail.... (oh and btdubz Scumbag... eventually the abuse won't work anymore... and they will leave you to rot in your own filth and failure...just like I did.)

"Picky! You need to come here right now!"

"Nooo. Nooo. I want to stay here! " He is in the kitchen cowering in the corner.

Scumbag says, "You need to come here and tell me that. I need a reason."

"I will miss my Nana!"

"You can bring your Nana, I need a better reason than that."

I say, "It's ok with me if you stay, but its your dad's (loose term) weekend."

"But Gogo and Lala said that they were coming down this weekend and were going to take me out for ice-cream!"

"I understand you want that." I turn to Scumbag " You know how my mom is... it's touch and go with her."

"Is this what you want? Fine, we are going off to have fun without you. See you later."

Yeah asshole, don't let the door hit you on the way out. How dare you try to make my child feel bad.
This is one of the reasons I hate you.

After he leaves, Picky starts jumping up and down in the recliner and flips on the T.V.
 "If you are going to stay home , you are going to spend time with us. You can either go to the store with me or stay in the kitchen and talk to Dad while he cooks."

"What??? Oh man!"

We go to the store, get subs, and get home. Then we all sit down for dinner while I nurse Baby. After that it is time to feed baby solids. I get him in the highchair and go to the pantry and grab his food.

"OOH! Look Baby its nummy PEAS!."

David says, "Peas? Again? Really?"

"Yes Daddy! He needs to get used to eating his veggies."
"Alright, I just remember last time..."
"Oh hush and get him a spoon. Here, you feed him."
"What??? Why do I have to do it? You see this? Mommy wants me to torture you. "

David starts feeding him and I get on the computer... Hey I know I should use this time to do something productive, like dishes... but I need to figure out flowers for my wedding.

"Honey, he hates this. Look at him."

I look over as David shovels another spoon full in my tiny prince's mouth. He braced his arms against the tray, reared his head back and made the most disgusted face I have ever seen on a baby. He starts spitting them out then sucking them back in. It is a sight to be seen.

"When do I stop this?"
"I guess now. Help me give him a bath, please?"
I turn to head up the stairs and I feel something warm running down my fingers.

"Ohhh Grosss!! Ah! Ah! AHHH ! Get it off! I bet you are loving this, aren't you! You think this is payback for making the baby eat peas, don't you!"
Yup, David is smirking. Jerk.

David and I take Baby upstairs. We tag team it, I gather the supplies, run the bath water and get undressed and David gets Baby undressed and hands him to me. Then he takes the diaper off, and its full of shit. Nice. David grabs some toilet paper and wipes it off  while I hold his shitty bottom. Now that is taken care of , back to business.
    I love taking baths with the baby. It is the only time in the kids life where it isn't weird. It is so intimate, I am so full of motherly love right now. I kiss the top of his downy soft head and snuggle his neck.....EWWWWW!
I look down and there is puked up peas all over the both of us and the water.  Gross.
"Time to get out daddy! Get me a towel please. "
I wipe him down and let the water out then I cradle him in my arms to keep him warm. I am looking into those beautiful baby blues....... FUCK ALL! My lap has a warm sensation that is now trickling down my thigh. I look down and see him peeing on me!

"Daaavvviiiiiddddd!! HURRY! HE just peed on me!'
David runs back into the bathroom just as he pukes up a larger amount of half digested peas , all over my chest. He can't help but laugh at the sight, I don't blame him but would never tell him that. He grabs Baby and sticks him in the shower to rinse him off. I am making grossed out noises and laughing... what else can I do? This makes Baby laugh, which makes it worse! He is smiling and giggling at the sight of a nekkid mommy covered in pee and puked up peas... Haha payback baby, payback. David pulls him out of the shower and I wrap him in the towel.... SHIT! He vomits up putrid peas for the fourth time tonight all over himself. David sticks him back in the shower and rinses him off for hopefully the last time tonight. I won't hold my breath.  David goes and gets the baby dressed for bed and I rinse the tub out and run a nice relaxing bath for me. I get in and start to relax. Ahhhh, so ni.... Fuck. Now all the hot water is gone. Perfect.

Here Comes the Bride (Part 3)

Tuesday I went back to the bridal store. I wanted to try on the ones in my top 3 and there was another I wanted to try. It was a fitted flare. It wasn't my first choice, and it looked like there would be no way it would look good on my curvy figure (read: FAT ASS). Even my friend said she didn't think it was going to look right because the toothpick model (skinny bitch) looked curvaceous.

 The sales woman pulled the dresses I requested and I go back with her into the fitting room.
"Which one would you like to try on first?"

" Hmmm... I think I'll try on the newest addition. I need to get it out of the way... so I have more time to decide from the top 3."

"Ok, here we go!" She pulls the form fitting dress over my head and starts lacing the bodice.

" Don't forget to pull extra tight. I need all the skinny I can get."

" Wow! I think you are going to love this dress on you."

 Yeah, yeah , yeah.... you're supposed to say this shit... you want to make a sale. You either have a baby or a drug habit to support and you need to make this sale. Gotcha.
  I step out of the dressing room and in front of the mirror. I look over and see TK's face. Surprise... Shock? Whatever it was it was a good feeling (I hope, but I trust her not to lie to me). I take a look at my self, WOW! That sums it up.. WOW! The loud speakers start playing Jason Mraz "I'm Yours". It is a sign! The heavens have just opened up and there ... I see the hand of God in the corner. It's giving me a thumbs up!  The song is a sign because David likes the song. Because he is mine and I am his, and we are. Anyways, here I am, in this beautiful dress, listening to this song , with my friend standing next to me and 2 of my beautiful boys looking up at me (never mind one of them said I looked crazy). It is perfect... it really is ( and I don't believe in perfection, no matter how much I try to be it) I look at TK and start tearing up.
" Don't cry! I'm going to start crying if you do."
I can't help it. I don't know if it was hormones, the song, the emotions of being in LUUUV or the dress. This is it.. but... there is something missing...
"I love this.. and this is the shape for me....what about the one on the dress form?"
" I'll go get it for you..."
"Are you sure it's my size? It looks too small."
" I am sure it is, I will be back in a moment."

  She comes back and helps me into it. I go back out and look for approval from TK. I think I see it there, thats a good sign. I step in front of the mirror again. This time there is no tears, no feelings of love rushing though me. This time I gasp, and nodding.

" This is it! This is it! I found my dress!" I start jumping up and down. It looks like this dress is made for me! It is a modern shape with a vintage flare. It is dramatic and sassy. I look like 4 children have NOT marred my body. I look young and pretty (Pretty fucking hot, if I may say). It is nothing like I envisioned. It is not a princess ball gown, nor an A line with pickups and a colored sash. This is it. I have picked a dress. Half my battle is over! Well ... there are others lurking, like tablescapes , picking a china pattern and oh yeah..... paying for it (sorry David that's a battle you have to fight alone. I will cheer you on though.).

Without further adieu.... My dress.

Sassy, Sassy!

This is the size I ordered, after I told the woman this was it she tightened the bodice so I didn't look like I was busting out.

I hope I only look this this because of the angle I was standing.

This is me in the first dress... This is a good picture of my veil. Mine looks better because it wasn't a floor model. It was perfect... but the price tag made Me and David want to cry.

 Money. What can I say about it that hasn't already been said? Nothing. I don't have any new insight on the subject, nor do I have anything but a basic knowledge of it. It is vast, and complicated , and we all need it. Most of us love it, even if we refuse to own up to it. Money makes the world go 'round , is the root of all evil and the number 1 reason for divorce in America. Guess what? I am an American, and I am supposed to be getting married soon. So this fact is relevant to me. I have entered a situation where I am taken care of by my fiancé, He makes and handles all of the money. He feels like it would be a burden to me, I think it is one thing he holds so we are never truly equal. Or he doesn't like to be questioned or criticized, or maybe even hiding something. Who knows. I feel like I should , and that's the problem. We are getting married, two becoming one, uniting our mind, body, soul... blah blah blah and whatever other stupid euphemism you can come up with. The fact is... we are getting MARRIED, taking the last few steps in making our lives even more complicated by legally joining our finances. Don't get me wrong... there are benefits to getting married, tax break ( although small, it is a plus... right?) And say when he finally snaps and murders someone... I can't testify against him. For the most part though (outside of any sentimental value, which is priceless, love of my life) it's a fucking hassle.
    First there it getting to the engagement. Then there is planning the wedding. If you have ever done it you understand how stressful it can be. Then there is AFTER the wedding planning ( no, not raunchy, rampant sex EVERYWHERE) you know... the rest of your married life planning. That seems to be the humdinger. We have been in marriage therapy for almost 2 years. It's tough for us, not only because we are blending two lives, two ways of thinking and two ways of being, but because we both come from broken homes. Some of you out there have met my mom...so you know why I am so fucked up :P 
   The biggest (one of them... top 3 if you must rate) problems we have is MONEY. Who handles it, how it is allocated, who brings it in and who spends it the fastest. We have two very different ways of handling it. I was taught by my dad (THANK GOD , that's all I need to say... because again.. some of you know my mom) , cash and carry, save your pennies and one day you will have a dollar. He was raised by depression era parents and it trickled down to me, and it is probably why Scumbag didn't go down into a ball of flames faster. David... well I have NO idea how he deals with money other than spend, earn... need to spend more? Need to make more. It's like he is having a private concert while I am behind the locked gate, even though I have a ticket. Anyways it's frustrating, and I am done for now , because as usual the kids waited until I am here doing something for myself , to start crying, fighting and NEEDING me.