Mommy Doesn't Live Here Anymore

I love the fact that you don't give a sh#*!

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 22:44:00 +0000

hmmm.... that last blog post made me sound a little scary to even me. Do you ever feel like you don't quite get the feel for things across in your blog? Like you read the comments and think "whoa... that's not how I meant that at all." I do that all the time.

Does it help that my hubby thought it was hilarious and even wore his ripped shirt around the house that night laughing his arse off? I love that we have that humor with each other. I swear we can make each other laugh at a funeral. I love that guy, even when he rips my stuff.

OK, off the cheesy kick. Hey, I got some news, guess what????? I'm moving.

You know the best part of that.... YOU don't care. That's the whole reason I started this blog. Because you are my one piece of the world I can take with me and never miss a beat. For the past 10 years I have felt like my life was built in a sandcastle that the tide can wash up at any minute, and usually does. My first move was after I taught school for 2 years and loved Lubbock, Texas, but was ready for the adventure that my husband's job brought. Just not ready for the freaking midwest cold. HOLY SNOW BATMAN! But Illinois was great.... for 6 months, until we moved back to Lubbock. Then we got preggers and while in the hospital having the baby, the company called and said we were moving to Nebraska... Yea! (Insert eye roll and sarcasm here) Almost didn't make it through that one, but learned that people don't spontaneously combust, you get through it. Even if you have to leave your job that you LOVE and move away from all of your family and friends to drive 13 hours just 3 weeks after having a C-section. Yeah, that was fun. But we made it. Then after 4 years and many friends later, I got to move to South Carolina while I was preggers again. All I can say are 2 things. 1.) Hardest year of my life. 2.) Nice place to visit the tourist cities, living there sucked in a small town that doesn't know the Civil War is over. Then we moved to Indiana. And I fell in love. Absolutely love it here. I love my friends. I love my kids friends. I love my neighbors. I love every stinking thing about it. But I knew it couldn't last forever. Like everything, it got washed away. But it's ok. I knew it was coming, I am happy for the 2 years I have had here. And thrilled its only a couple hours away from where I am moving. I KNOW that the friends I have made here are friends for life. I would do anything for these girls! (Yes, I'm talking about you!) But the sandcastle got washed away.... again. But you. You bloggy friends. You get to stay! I love that. That makes things ok. I know that there is one constant in my life, and I can deal with it all so much better knowing you are here. Thanks guys!

Now refer to her post about how I feel about missing Indiana. She said it best.

Teach you to touch my hole

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 12:11:00 +0000

Call me Gandhi. I'm all about peace. I put bird food in the feeder regularly. I stop for little old ladies crossing the road. I shower my kids with love. I shoo away flies instead of swatting them.

Now in my family I was never the one to yell. I am the cryer. If I yell, everyone freezes(well, everyone but my kids, they are use to it) But I just do not get mad like that. I don't scold people. I don't get all up in their grill and bust a cap in their.... you get the point. I am a pacifist.

Until....

A certain someone decides to stick his finger in the hole in my jeans and rip them completely beyond repair. Why? Why, you would ask, would someone want to intentionally rip my pants? Me too.

See I love my husband more than chocolate cake. But that boy! I saw him laughing at my favorite pair of pants that have a big a$$ hole by the pocket. But those pants are the most comfortable, most wonderful, extraordinary pair of jeans EVER! Oh I think I love those pants more than chocolate cake too. (hold on, I have to get a tissue, just thinking about the poor fate of my gap jeans just makes me tear up. RIP favorite jeans!)

So I see him eyeing the jeans, and knowing that he can't resist a good hole. (Yes, I get the humor in that statement) I told him not to even think about ripping them. Not sure what that translated to in his head. But about an hour later as we are walking upstairs to put the kids to bed.. it happens. That little BEEP BEEP BEEPING BEEP BEEP stuck his big fat finger in my pants and before I knew it.... RRRRIIIIPPPP!

And that's when Gandhi turned more into a VH1 Reality Show character. I freaked. I screamed and went straight to the closet and found... his favorite comfy shirt. You know the one with the holes around the collar. And...

Well...

I feel much better now.

You can blot my spots whenever you like

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 17:36:00 +0000

Shhh.. don't tell, but I think I'm in love with my carpet cleaning guy. You totally would be too, trust me.

Exhibit A:
He called to tell me he was on his way. (and he didn't even ask what's for supper, or if there was any beer in the fridge.)

Exhibit B:
He cleans. He picks up furniture and moves it, he gets cat puke out of my carpet, he says, "no problem" when I ask him to do something.

Exhibit C:
He brought me flowers. Seriously, brought me a flower all wrapped up all pretty. Now he says they do it for everyone, but I know better. I am sure John felt a connection when he called to tell me he was on his way, then he immediately turned into a florist and got me my special carnation. He feels the love too.

Now how to break it to my husband?????

My new BFF, Oprah

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 12:20:00 +0000

OK so I was to busy jumping up and down with my mouth WIDE open on national television to give a shout out to you guys, but you were totally on my mind. Does that count?

I got so blasted caught up in that Oprah fever it wasn't even funny. I can't even tell you how awesome it was! But I'm gonna try...

So the night before the Oprah show we get to go to a private screening of the Michael Jackson movie. I was all, "I don't know, that doesn't sound like much fun." but it totally was. Just all the old school songs that mesmerized you when you were a kid. Just music, no personal life, no narration, just backstage, rehearsal stuff for his concert. Very cool. I did a bit of dancing and a bit of singing in the theatre. But seriously, could you resist when Thriller comes on??? No, I didn't think so. And neither could the guys dressed like MJ in the line for the next movie. Loved it.

Then the big O! I swear they are pumping happy gas through the vents. On 3 hours of sleep and walking in Chicago in heels at 6 am should make me one grumpy mama, but instead I was all smiles. We were getting the ushers to moonwalk while we waited in line. It was awesome. Then the lady herself walks out, its so cool. She's all personal and down to earth. I guess that's what makes her good at her job, but it was awesome. (Have I said awesome yet in this post? NO, I didn't think so) But the taping stuff was cool, all the hair & makeup people and behind the scenes. But then when Publisher Clearing House comes right into the studio honking it's horn my heart went all, "Holy heck what's going on here!!!" Then this lady won the whole $25K, this lady that sat right across from me in our little waiting room. Super sweet lady that was so deserving. (Not that I wouldn't take the cash, but I can be bigger than that and be happy for someone else... for the most part.) And then...

And then....

And then.....

THEY SAID WE ALL WON!!!!!!!!!!!! And I swear that's all I heard. My jaw opened wide, I started jumping up and down, hugging my girlfriends and having no idea what the heck I won. I totally forgot to figure out what I won. Until someone screamed it in my ear & I look on the screen and see a big fat $500!!! Then I believe that's when my head exploded. But in an awesome way.

I did however refrain from going all nuts in the Oprah store. I only got a key chain, a shirt, a coffee mug, an umbrella, a Christmas ornament, and a pair of slippers... oh, and some Oprah undies. Just a few things.......

But it was fun. And hanging out with some pretty awesome friends totally makes it 100 times better.

You have no idea how much I need this Big O!

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 14:36:00 +0000

OMG! You have no idea how bad I need the Big O! I am so looking forward to exeriencing the Big O that I KNOW I am getting not once, but twice! Once tonight and once tomorrow. Just the thought of the Big O makes me all tingly and excited inside. It is going to be just the stress reliever I need. I can't wait for the Big O!!!!! YES, YES, YES!!!!!!!

And you know what? I am totally experiencing it with my girlfriends! No men included!

Now, get your minds out of the gutter! My Big O is...........Oprah! I am headed to the Oprah show. The show's topic: The new Michael Jackson movie. Now I am not all about the whole MJ thing, but the fact that I get to go to a premier BEFORE a movie is released to the public, the fact that I get pampered by the Big O, and the fact that I get to hang out with my girls is totally enought to get me all excited. So I will check you guys later, I got to go prepare for my Big O!!!!! She has stipulations like what colors to wear and purse sizes. And I have to allow at least an hour to figure out how to sit without fat rolls hanging over my pants. Make that 2 hours, that's going to be a whole magic trick in itself. So be watching tomorrow, I'll give a shout out to my bloggy peeps on the BIG O!!!!!

Adjectives say it all:

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 19:38:00 +0000

One word to describe how you feel today: ___________

Mine: engulfed (had to look that one up on Thesauraus.com. I thought it was a bit more original than overwhelmed.)

Books are so much better than movies

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 16:20:00 +0000

Jodi Picoult... you slay me lady. Tears and wimpering....

I have never written a review for a book, althought I love my books. I love my classics such as Gone with the Wind, Little Women, Count of Monte Cristo. LOVE THEM! And then I dive into the short ones: 5 People You Meet in Heaven, Wednesday Letters, and The Last Lecture. I have been known to read murder mysteries and had a slight Ted Bundy phase. Somehow fascinated with this man. Scarriest was reading the book about the sorority house murders WHILE I was in my sorority house. Everything pretty much described the same layout we had... creepy. And if you know me for a second you would know what a big fat chicken I am, and doubt that I could even finish a book like that. So glad I wasn't around when he did all that. I totall would have fallen for the guys tricks and been a goner.

Anywho... so I read My Sister's Keeper. Whoaaaa! Blow me away man! I wanted to read the book before watching the movie. Books are SO MUCH BETTER than movies! What a powerful book with a suprise ending. WOW oh WOW... now I'm ready for the movie. So I can be one of those people to lean over and say, "that's not how it was in the book" and then pause it and explain the whole book to the person watching it with me, and then they get all pissed and tell me to shut up.... Yeah, I can't wait to watch the movie! Who wants to watch with me????

And now I'm off to read 19 Minutes. Anyone read it yet?

"Suck It" might have been a little harsh.

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 18:00:00 +0000

Crap!!!! Crap crap crap!!!! I totally drew attention to myself with that whole H1N1 Suck It Post... and now... guess what???? It looked in my direction, laughed at my pebble I threw at it, taunting it with my sarcasm and then it coughed in my face!

Now I have no idea if it's that kind of flu. But as I was sitting at the Dr. today getting labs done for the SECOND TIME because evidently I was dehydrated the first time, I start reading the symptoms on a poster. As I read down each one I'm just thinking, "check, got that." "Yup, that too." And I could just hear that stupid virus laughing at me. Giggling it's stupid germy head at "better than thou" cleaning skills, and had to show me up.

Well, fine. I can take it. You aren't so tough! I can handle you. Well, that is if you just kinda stay mild. Please... Maybe I should send it some cookies or something, you know, butter it up some so it stays nice to me and makes this all easier than the whole, death sentence that the news makes it out to be.

So I am retracting my "Suck It" and gonna replace it with, "You are great and all, but I really can't play with you right now."

You start

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 13:17:00 +0000

Talk amonst yourselves... I'm a bit faklempt.

Because if I do, topics are going to include heart monitors, pinched nerves, a sick child, toddlers that have been in the house too long, sick husbands, and company coming. That doesn't sound like fun. I don't want to talk about those things. So you go ahead and give me a topic....one that's like buttah, not this sh#%!

Global Warming?

Favorite Ice Cream Flavors?

Step by step instructions on how to build a model plane?

Bra sizes?

What do you have for me????? Call, we'll talk, no big woop.
(please someone tell me you remember this SNL sketch)

Help I've fallen.... you know the rest

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 19:36:00 +0000

You ever wake up and feel like you are 40 years older? I am sooo at that place right now. I am contimplating the nursing home. Not only am I wearing a heart monitor but I totally threw out my back or hip or something. I went to pick my rhino of a son up and pinched a nerve or something. I swear I would cry if it wasn't so freaking funny. I get 'stuck' bending over. It has got to be a sight. I giggle just thinking about it. "Oh my hip, Oh my heart." Geeze man! Where did the all night parties with booze and loud music go? It's more like "Where's my medication and heating pad?"

I think I went right past becoming my mother, and zoomed to becoming my grandmother all in one week. And the kids... oh the kids. The oldest is being the sweetest thing ever. Today she told me how hard it was to sit there and watch me try to put my sock on without help. I feel secure that she will take care of me in my old age. I am working hard not to piss that kid off. I'm gonna need her.

But the other one. I'm kinda thinking I shouldn't piss him off either. He's gonna want to get rid of me quick. He has decided that it's hysterical to run from me while I'm trying to put his clothes on. Or to drop his spoon every 2 minutes just to watch Mommy get 'stuck' trying to pick it back up.

So please pass the pudding, I'm gonna go ahead and check myself into that nursing home now. Please tell me you have days like this...

You first born perfectionist, I love you.

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 13:37:00 +0000

Have you ever thought about birth order and how it affects your personality? I am a believer. I went to a seminar at Heart at Home last year that featured Dr. Kevin Leman, who has written The Birth Order book.

Now this isn't a plug for him or anything, just thought it was interesting. But I totally think it's true. I am the third child in my family. The first two were born 4 minutes apart. Yeah, try living with twin sisters that are 3 years older.... Kevin should write a book about that! Anywhoo.... But I tent to just be the follower. The one who NEVER likes to make plans. The peacekeeper. And I totally pick first born friends. People to tell me where to go and what time to be there. I am getting so good at this I can now pick out if someone is first born after I get to know them for a while. Try it... first borns are the planners, the perfectionist, the responsible ones. You get to the younger siblings and you start to see the happy, carefree ones. The "go with the flow" kind of people.

But when you get 2 'younger siblings' together it's bad. You tend to drive around in the car for 30 minutes saying, "Where do you want to eat?" "I don't know, where do you want to eat?" You get a first born & a younger born in the car, the first born tells you where they want to go and where to turn to get there. I love you first borns. Without you, I would never figure out where to eat, or how to get there, or what time. Thank you for making my life easier. Keep doing what you're doing!

Driving a very sober Ms. Daisy

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 11:05:00 +0000

Sometimes really cool things come in brown bags....

and... other times, it's not so cool.

Heart monitors, not classified in that cool category. But if you have been following my need for a doctor, you are jumping out of your seat right now, because I finally went. Please, feel free to pat me on the back.

A couple little spells and now I have to be driven around like Ms. Daisy for two.whole.weeks. While my husband goes out of town for part of it. And my child has a fever. Yeah, this brown bag is not nearly as fun as the last one. And the fact that one of the monitors is stuck UNDER my boob. For some of you, that would just be called your ribcage and no where near your boob. But for me, it's more like a hidden Easter Egg and yeah, it's annoying! And the fact that I keep hitting my little "oh crap I'm having a spell" button on accident, is just as frustrating. Now I have to call it in and explain that, "yeah, I'm an idiot and can't keep from hitting the button."

Oh oh oh oh oh... wanna hear the worst part???? I can't drink.at.all! The meds he has me on make me super tired and are suppose to increase the effects of alcohol. 'nuff said. You can now send your condolences!

If you can follow me...

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 17:18:00 +0000

It's Friday and I haven't posted in a week. What the heck is wrong with me? Oh it's not that you people haven't been on my mind. You so have. I drive out of the store parking lot and have a whole post conversation with you in my head. This week I have probably had a total of 9 interactions with you in my own mind, and yet by the time I get to write them down one of two things happens. Either I forget it all or a small child come into my office and literally spins me out of my chair.

So if we were to actually talk this week these are some of the things we would have discussed:

- Monsters and small children

- Fruit flies in my van and nearly running off the road

- Teaching my daughter YMCA while driving will also cause you to run off the road.

- Crazy people with zero boundaries are quite interesting

- And platonic crushes on men that look like they just stepped out of 1972 with tat sleeves and mustaches.

H1N1 ... suck it!

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 01:23:00 +0000

Bleaching toys! Germs beware, I'm on to you! And no we don't have it, I just don't wanna get it.

Daddy can get it!

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 11:23:00 +0000

I love the unrealistic thought that Daddy can do anything. I remember thinking the same about my dad. And if I know my kid's dad, he will find a way to get that balloon down!

7:17 am.

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 10:13:00 +0000

7:17am

That's what time I set my alarm clock for. Guess how many times I have gotten up at 7:17 since I set that? NONE. It's more of a wish, a desire to be awoken by some song that I can't get out of my head all day, and at an appropriate time.

Nope, I have this little living alarm clock that likes to wake me up WAY before 7:17 am. And he keeps getting earlier. And there's no snooze button. No cord to unplug, and I'm pretty sure if I hurled him across the room and hit the wall, I would be answering some questions.

So I get up. Today 5:57. An ungodly hour. My coffee pot isn't even set to go off at this hour. Do you know how I get without my coffee? It's not pretty.

So now, I have to sit, sans coffee, at an ungodly hour and figure out how to keep this little "angel" (I'm gonna use angel, but you know, substitute any word you feel appropriate right now) in his bed.

Don't you dare tell me to put him to bed later. Nope. 8-8:30 is late enough, thank you. And the kid is now falling asleep every time we get in the car in the mornings so I know he's tired. And when I do get him back in bed in the mornings, it's only about 10 min. before the little "angel" is back up.

Oh, and to boot, when my husband opened our bedroom door at 5:57 a.m. to see what was causing so much noise in the the hallway, he saw the small child in question trying to climb and sit on the banister that overlooks the downstairs. Crap, I'm going back to bed.

Don't try this yourselves

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 17:26:00 +0000

Let me astound you with my super awesome organizing skills! Folks, don't try this at home!

One ordinary woman can turn this:

Into this:

Close your eyes for this one:

Tada!

Wait wait wait, it' gets better. Aren't you just so in awe of me? I know, I would be jealous too.

Would you have a look at that! Holy Cow, that's beautiful! I don't need to lift a finger for the next month, I did so good!

And last but certainly not least.....Drumroll please!

Wala!

OK, go back to your life, knowing that I am awesome and great, and perfect!

Actual conversation with myself

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 10:00:00 +0000

- Diet Heidi: Did you like trying on pants that fit at the store today?

- Screw It Heidi: Yes

- DH: Then why are you eating cake with your fingers?

- SIH: Uh,...'cuz it's good.

- DH: But you know you aren't suppose to eat cake, right?

-SIH: (chomp chomp) Yeah, well it's just a smidge. It's the last bit and I have to make room in the fridge for all those veggies I just bought.

- DH: What about those pants you just bought? They aren't going to fit if you keep this up.

- SIH: (wiping icing off the face) There! Damn it! I stopped!

- DH: That's because you ATE IT ALL!

*Thank you thank you.... no therapy needed here, nope, I'm perfectly normal!

Friends Rock

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 02:16:00 +0000

Everyone should have one of THOSE friends. The kind that you can say anything to. Whether it's totally inappropriate or not, you can tell them and they aren't going to judge you, they are just gonna laugh with you. One of those friends that you can scream HELP to and they come running, no questions asked. I love those friends. They are few and far between. They are special.

You know, friends that loan no less than: 10 forks, 2 bar stools, 5 lawn chairs and valuable time peeling potatoes, cutting brownies and talking me through my stressful day of planning a party.

Friends like these are the best! And when you move as much as I do, and you are so far from home, it feels like there really isn't anyone you can count on. It's hard. When I have spent the past 8 years of my life not knowing who to put on the emergency contact on my children's school forms besides my husband and myself because there is no one within 10 hours that I would trust with my child. Now I have these friends. Thank you thank you thank you... I feel at home. (Well, just look past that part about me having to leave one day)

Stalking isn't such a bad thing

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 12:54:00 +0000

Do you have those bloggers you sort of stalk? Like the big ones, or the cool ones that you are just too scared to actually comment on? I totally do. For a while I would leave comments on The Bloggess. Before I knew who the Bloggess was. Then I felt like a fan showing up at her table at a fancy restaurant and bugging her for an autograph. I was all freaked out. Like, "Crap, I just drew attention to my stupid self and now she's gonna look my way!" And she did, I even got a comment or two from her.

And then there are the others like Jennifer at Playgroups are No Place For Children who is a biggie, but I had no idea either and we were neighbors, so I wasn't so scared to comment. But still in awe of her super writing and now photography skills.

So now I have a new one. One I am sure is WAY too cool to ever come see my blog, so I feel safe that I can write whatever I want and not get a restraining order put on me... hopefully. She's just funny, and raw, and totally the opposite of me. Maybe that's the appeal. I mean, she can make Cancer sound funny. And I am pretty sure she's mentally unstable, but in a good way. I have been reading her for a while, and even added her to my sidebar, but have yet to leave a comment. No need drawing attention to myself. But today, I did it. Maybe it was the Bailey's in my coffee, or the high from throwing a fabulous dinner party last night that I felt cool enough to leave her a comment. But I did. Oh crap, what if she sees the comment, decides to find out who I am and links back to this post where she sees me stalking, and get's that restraining order? Great! Now I'm just that creapy chick who wants to hang with the cool kids.

Why yes, you can look under my bed if you must

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 13:14:00 +0000

So today I am planning a party. One of those work parties for my hubs. Not a stuffy, place card thing. If I had to do one of those there might be bloodshed. No, this is more a grill steaks and drink beers party. But still, it freaks you out just a tad.

Anytime I have people over I go through the likelihood that they may need to use my master bathroom. Or have to go into my closet. Why the hell would someone need to go upstairs, through the bedroom, through the bathroom and be standing in a room with all my pants? I have no idea, but I get scared that someone might see what's in there. Or under my bed. What reason on earth would someone look under my bed? They wouldn't. Would they? Great, now I got to clean under there too. Oh the nightstand drawers, gotta get those clean. You never know when someone might need to take a peek in there.

So instead of focusing on say, the kitchen, I obsess on things like the sink in the bathroom. Why, why do I do that? Do you do that? Am I normal?

Maybe I should quit blogging and go, you know... clean the kitchen. Or make the food, or something productive like the laundry room. I am sure all guests are going to need to go in there some time this evening, right?

Let's update, shall we?

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 18:02:00 +0000

The potty training: uh, what potty training? I don't know what you are talking about. That must be someone else's blog you were reading. No potty training going on around here.

The diet: Still at it. And not so bad. I feel better, I'm eating less AND my belt went down a loop. Hooray for me!

And on a totally different note:

Remember when my sweetheart of a daughter started singing THIS song? So today I'm in the car, minus the little parrot of a 7 year old. So I was singing along with "I Want Your Sex." As in every.freaking.word! Haven't heard that song in years, I mean like 20. And I know it all. I then look at the year it came out. 1987! WTH? I was 11, how did I know all the words to "I Want Your Sex?" So it's making me think that yeah, we heard it, we're still here. Not that I'm gonna let her keep singing those R-Rated tunes, but it's not gonna kill us.

Oh, and "I Want Your Sex" was immediately followed up with Bell Biv Devo's "Do Me" and then a little, "I Touch Myself." Think either the DJ is in some serious need of some lovin' or maybe my mind's just in the gutter.

The not so happy facts

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 11:57:00 +0000

Fact: Diets make me witchy!

Fact: Potty training makes me witchy!

Fact: I am doing both this week.

Yeah, I did try the potty training already. Heck, I did the diets already too. I would have to put a big ol "F" on both of those attempts. So I am hitting it full force right now. I'm covered in pee and poop AND I have a huge headache! But my theory. Better to get 2 miserable things over with at once. It sucks! So you know, stay clear of me. That is until you see me walking around Walmart eating a Twinkie and buying Huggies. Then you may proceed with caution.

Ramblings of a troubled heart

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 14:17:00 +0000

When I was six my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was 36. Thirty-six! Can you imagine? Being a mother of two small kids now, I try to put myself in her place.

With three small girls waiting for you to kiss them goodnight. Three small girls who have no idea what is going on. Three small girls that you now worry about one day having to go through the same thing. I can't imagine the weight on her shoulders.

My maternal grandmother died when I was seven years old. She had cancer. Cancer of the lungs and breast cancer. The details of her suffering are very sketchy to me. But what my family went through during it are not. My mother would fly down to Corpus Christi for weeks at a time to take care of her. She would sit by her bedside and watch her own mother so sick and so frail. I can't imagine having to do that with my own mother. She would come home exhausted. I remember one trip vividly. She had just come home and my dad was working at the fire station. All she wanted to do was go to sleep, all I wanted to do was show her the 7-Up can necklace that Dad had got me while she was gone. I ran to my room, trying to hurry, because I could see how tired she was, when I ran back, I tripped and hit my head on her cedar chest, needing stitches in my forehead. My exhausted mother, who had just spent weeks at the hospital with her mother, was now having to take me to the hospital. I was so ashamed that I had caused her any more trouble. But, like any mother, she did it with love and patience.

It seems that everywhere I look these days more and more women are diagnosed with this disease. Right now 3 women in my small community have been diagnosed. 3 women very close to my age. One has already battled the disease, and is having to do it all over again. One is just starting her treatment, and one just lost her battle. Each of these women have husbands, children, families. It makes me realize how precious it all is and how fast it can be taken away.

We try to protect our kids from crossing the street, from bullies, from drugs. But sometimes the hardships that we and our kids face come from within. What's the point of this post? I have no idea. I guess there isn't a point. No moral to the story, no happy ending or funny saying. It's just hard to watch these families. Knowing what those kids feel. The confusion, the complete break in routine, the sympathetic looks from helpful strangers who really have your best interest at heart, yet you just want them to go away. You want your mom back to normal, you want this to end. I wish I could do something for them, but that's the point. They don't want sympathy, or caring. They want it to go away. I get it. I was there. I wish I could tell them that.

If this is wrong.. I don't want to be right!

hd_osburn@yahoo.com (Heidi) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 18:53:00 +0000

Is it wrong that...

* That I doubled the amount of beer bottles in the recyling dumpster all by myself?

* That I go to Target to buy workout clothes only to do the complete opposite of working out in them? I seriously think they should put posters of mom's laying on the couch with the remote in one hand and a margarita in the other. That is more what these clothes are doing for me. I don't want to see that skinny girl with the free weights poster every time I go to buy my sweats.

* I giggled walking into Target because I found myself childless in the greatest place on earth?

* I peed TWICE in public restrooms today because... I could.Alone. Without somone trying to dig in that little trashcan in the stall or open the door while my pants are down.

* That the happiest sound in the world is other people's children screaming in a store while mine are happily at school.

Can you tell...it's that time again...school time! And my little monster man is doing preschool 2 mornings a week!!!!!! I am one happy mama!