Monthly Archives: December 2010

Dec29

Stroke the Furry Pants!

Posted on by
Stroke the Furry Pants!

I really don’t blog about my pants enough. In fact, the last time I blogged about my pants, I was at MJ’s house and received a call from Freedom at like 6 in the morning and, well, now he inhabits the basement. Where will this pantastic blog lead?

I have spent the past few weeks freezing and running around trying to keep my pants up. While that’s normally an issue for other (awesomely pro-sex) reasons, lately, my pants are falling down NOT because of a guitar in my presence, but because they just don’t fit. And, they don’t provide warmth. And, really, they’re just old. Even my guilt-ridden yoga pants (ever felt guilty about wearing tennis clothes but not playing tennis? Heh.), are not cutting it in the size nor warmth categories that make Melia happy… in the pants.

Wheeeee!

But, friends, today, I declare that I am, again, happy in the pants! I have two pair of fleecy, fuzzy, warm monkey-printed pants that have pretty much made my soul complete.

Being so awesomely tingly in the pants, today has been a day of purging toys, trashing crap and generally putting my best Virgo foot forward. My house, at least 2/3 of the top floor, looks awesome. All because I could stroke my furry pants.

Awwwwwyeah, bitches.

Dec27

The End of the Year is Nigh!

Posted on by
The End of the Year is Nigh!

I am so happy that 2010 is ending. I cannot begin to express my delight in waving goodbye to this horrid, horrid year. Granted, I had quite a bit of fun, but the last half has been… meh. I’m done. I’m also don, because I cannot type and electronics hate me (thank you, Mercury!).

This weekend was nuts. From the Emo Boy airport race where he went through a standard metal detector alone (I was totally prepared for jail time if they tried to accost him/me), because the beltway traffic got us to Baltimore exactly 9 minutes before his flight was scheduled to leave (I love delays!), to the IKEA trip that caused us to eat dinner in Baltimore at a random Chinese buffet with poisoned spring rolls that literally knocked me on my ass for 24 hours.

Then, there was Christmas day, and presents were unwrapped, we went to Martian’s apartment for a few weird hours, drove around trying to find any open grocery store in preparation for the 6 inches of snow that never happened that night, spurring the decision to keep the kids at home with me in case we all got snowed in and they were stuck at Martian’s place.

Yesterday, finally feeling much better and not wanting to die from spring roll flu, I woke up and dug into work so I could juggle all of the appointments and obligations of this week and still possibly get paid. 1.5 hours into working, I got up to get coffee or something, came back to my laptop ridden with the System Tools 2011 virus that even the most updated McAfee cannot detect.

2 hours later, I’m back in business, but, I must reboot the computer… and it won’t boot up. Something about the network card. Unplug it, the laptop returns, and I blink back tears as I work a little more.

A few hours later, I’m informed that I have an interview this morning to discuss food assistance, which requires all sorts of things to be printed out. And, yep, my printer is no longer talking to my computer.

By 9pm, I finally give up on anything wireless, plug in the printer with a cord, print off my stuff and hold back the twitching. I am just so, so done with 2010. I am fortunate enough to have had 4 different sized comedians to keep me entertained and laughing throughout this disastrous period. Bless their hearts.

So, how was your holiday weekend?

I’m heading out for the interview and to retrieve Emo Boy from Baltimore again. No spring rolls, this time. Reporting live from Bizarro World on Crack, this is Melia. Send reinforcements.

Dec21

Turn the Page

Posted on by
Turn the Page

Maybe, soon, I’ll stop with the writing analogies. Or not. Its a theme, and, this is my 2nd blog in a week in a looooong time. Whatever works, right?

I’m much better after my emotional meltdown. Feeling things, and not stuffing them back in, is interesting. Its not my usual style, so I’m getting used to it. But, we move forward.

Last night, I was hungry. This may seem like a non-issue for most, but in the greater realm of my anxiety and eating issues, it was the first time in a very long time that I was hungry before I actually had the “eat or you will pass out” hunger feeling. It actually took me by surprise, so I drove, IN THE COLD, to Taco Bell (because we don’t have anything “fast” here anymore, yay!) and came home to watch Days and eat really awful bean burritos.

But, I was hungry. After hitting my lowest weight I can remember (ever) this past week, and being able to literally grab my twin skin tummy and pull it up to reveal a decent bikini torso (much to the horror of Freedom and Emo Boy), it is probably time to at least eat enough to stay more than alive.

Then, after I finished the burritos, I climbed into bed to pass out and was quickly alerted to Enigma running out of his room, grabbing his chest, saying his stomach hurt. I wasn’t quite awake, so I followed him to the kitchen, gave him a pepto, and affirmed Freedom’s thought that it was anxiety, not his stomach. I took Enigma back upstairs and let him sleep with me. He said he had a dream that his dad died, so I explained nightmares and that they don’t always mean what they show, and that his brain was just sorting out everything it couldn’t get to during the day. He stroked my hair, like he did when he was a baby, and fell back asleep. I woke up a lot, just checking on him. He’s taking all of this a lot harder than the other kids :(

This morning, though, he was laughing about the dream. Kids. Aspie’s. Funny creatures.

Read the rest of this entry →

Dec20

The Blank Page

Posted on by
The Blank Page

When staring at that blank page that writers tend to face, all the experts, the icons and the idiots say to just start writing, no matter how intimidating that entire page may be.

So, what the hell, I’m writing. I’m blogging. I’m processing… and I’m preparing for the week ahead.

Friday night, The Martian and I told the kids that he was leaving the next day, to an apartment. There were tears blinked away by Emo Boy, Enigma cried twice that he knew how to make us friends again, and the Twitches didn’t really react, except when everyone else did.

Then, everyone went about their normal routines.

Yesterday, it was pretty status quo. Today, a few bumps. Enigma caught pancake flu from his breakfast and spent the day on the couch, saying his stomach hurt. I’m pretty sure it was more than that, because as soon as I sat with him and squeezed/reiki’d him, he perked up. Then, he went to bed.

But, we made it through the first 48 hours. And, really, that’s all that I can ask.

I don’t want to make this about me (ok, maybe just a little bit), because at this point, my babies are my #1 concern… but this is my blog, where I can say and do what I want, and they don’t have to see me cry. All I wanted, ever, was for someone to love me. I am that woman, the one with 2 baby daddies and a very long line of exes who, on some level, truly believed in the love that was promised, or I wanted it so much, I ignored all of the red flags. I made these choices, and I own them, but they chose, too. I never lied or promised more than I could offer. I just asked to be loved, all of me, and I believed. When the going got tough, they bailed… emotionally, physically, whatever. Maybe I am too controlling, a whore, a bitch, taking crazy pills, etc. But, maybe, just maybe… I’m me, I’m normal. Maybe,  just maybe, the countless hours of therapy and self-awareness has brought me right back to that person I was before my entire life blew up almost 20 years ago. So, even if I’m a whore, a bitch, insane or just too controlling, I will at least be able to remember who I am, and not who they all wanted me to be.

I’m not mourning the loss of the people, for the record, I’m mourning the loss of that stupid fucking fairy tale that I believed in. I am angry. I am devastated. I am exhausted. But, at least, I’m free.

Fuckers.