I meant to write this day before yesterday but got distracted several times.

I accomplished my entire list on Monday.

1. Take a shower.
2. Brush teeth.
3. Put on makeup.
4. Perfectly french braid Cara’s hair for gym.
5. Figure out where I put Ollie’s form for gym so he can start this summer.
6. Make dinner.
7. Get to sleep before midnight. [It was a few minutes after midnight.]

The lump in my throat was gone Tuesday. In fact, it started to get better soon after I wrote Monday’s post. Maybe I really should write when I feel like shit and then that will fix things? So is writing akin to talk therapy for me? Tucker’ll be happy if that’s the case since writing is a hell of lot more less expensive than therapy.

Tucker’s going to be all like:

Not feeling very motivated today just kind of…

Ollie and I haven’t gotten into it today and after the hell of the past two days, I consider a fightless day [Knock.On.Wood.] a blessing.

Like I could get through a post without at least one gif. It’s what I do, folks. It’s who. I. Am. Not really. They just make me happy.

And now I have to write the post I owe Atlus for the Game of Thrones game that hit Tuesday. Not looking forward to that post very much; I don’t like having to be “mean.”

I have no idea what I want to write about today and am pretty much only writing because I think I should. I find it ironic that when I get all dysphoric the last thing I want to do is write and it’s probably the time when I need to write the most.

If it didn’t make me so damn tired. When just the thought of something makes makes me want to take a nap, I tend to avoid said thing. Unless I’m really wanting a nap…

I’m not a very nice person when I’m like this.

My temper is short; don’t you DARE scrape you chair on the floor around me. And that fighting stuff the kids do? Very much uncool right now. Super uncool. It’s at this point when I wish the grandparents lived closer cause I would ship these guys off right about now. Not for forever. Just a couple of days. Just long enough for me to regain the patience of a saint.

I feel like I have something stuck in my throat. Not sure what that means and Dr. Google isn’t helping with a diagnosis but I know “Do you have the sensation you have something stuck in your throat?” is a question on the digital questionnaires I sometimes take at the shrink’s.

I can’t settle on a something to listen to on Spotify and that’s annoying the hell out of me.

I got this from Atlas today:

It should be interesting to play since I haven’t read the books OR seen the show. Distraction is always nice.

My goals for the day?

1. Take a shower.
2. Brush teeth.
3. Put on makeup.
4. Perfectly french braid Cara’s hair for gym.
5. Figure out where I put Ollie’s form for gym so he can start this summer.
6. Make dinner.
7. Get to sleep before midnight.

That’s a lot of shit! Me thinks I shouldn’t have made a list…

I’ll be fine; I always am. I’m not going to stop functioning or whatever. The kids will still get bathed and fed and hugged and hollered at. Basically life keeps going like it always does but I bitch more.

Tucker’s probably wondering how that’s any different from normal.

My response:

I’m sure this is the general reception to this post:

My response:

and

and

I’m probably going to feel bad about that last one in a few minutes cause it’s probably going to offend someone. Please refer to the first gif after “My response.”

Image | StickBus

I called Tucker’s cell today to beg him to save me from Oliver.

I’m not joking.

In case you don’t know, Ollie’s three. I called my husband to save me from my three year old because I was tired of being slapped in the face, punched in the back and screamed at. Tucker didn’t answer and I didn’t leave a message.

Ollie’s fit lasted for a very long time.

It ranged from whining and repeating the same request to blood curdling screams, gritted teeth and slapping me in the face. Then there’s his door I thought he was going to break and his head that I thought he was going to break when he slammed himself onto our tile floor.

Word to the wise, don’t ever Google a situation like this. The results I got ranged from Ollie being allergic to red dye to him being bipolar and needing lithium to him not getting enough individual attention.

The red dye I’m not concerned about since we don’t eat and/or drink a lot of artificially colored things, the bipolar diagnosis at three scares the shit out of me because of my history and leaves me ambivalent since it seems bipolar disorder has become the ADHD of the 2000′s.

The individual attention thing would make the most sense.

Cara starts kindergarten in the Fall. She is close to reading, i.e., she can sound out most words and knows a bunch of sight words. Because of that, she wants to learn. She demands a lot of my time and I’m not complaining as much as just calling a spade a spade. I can see how Ollie would feel left out. He’s at the age where, when I try and include him in what we’re doing–with age appropriate stuff–he quickly gets bored and goes off to create mayhem.

Our day starts with either Ollie coming in to wake me up in the morning–anywhere between 0500 and 0730–or with him whacking me in the face as he rolls over because he snuck into our room sometime in the night. The first thing he asks me is, “Can I play a game on your phone?” or “Can I play the Indie Harry Potter LEGO game?”–he means the Indiana Jones LEGO game, by the way. When I say no or Tucker says no, Ollie usually crumbles to the floor and throws a fit. I ignore the water works in the hope that ignoring the fit will reduce the length of the fit. I’m not sure if that works. More testing is required.

The thing about Ollie is that he won’t leave you alone when it comes to something he wants. He will bombard you with the same question for hours. It doesn’t matter if you tell him no every single time, he’s going to keep asking and he’s going to keep getting pissed that you said no.

Depending on what it is that he’s wanting, there’s a chance that he’s going to grit his teeth and/or scream at you. There’s also a chance that he’s going to run at you with his fists balled and hit you. Or pinch you. Or kick you. Maybe even bite you.

The day started out great. Really great.

Cara and Ollie were both in bed with me this morning as Tucker left for work. We got up, got dressed and then had some breakfast. We had told the kids yesterday that for them to get a “prize” they had to clean up their play room. The place was a disaster area and I had helped them clean it the last time and wasn’t doing that again. The kids each were assigned certain things to pick up and once Ollie started asking about playing video games, I reminded him that the agreement was for him to pick up the clothes, the small items and the blocks and that he could play 30 minutes of whatever game he wanted to play. Cara’s prize was for me to make playdough [my playdough recipe] for her and then help her make “icecream” out of the playdough.

After some time and a lot of encouragement, the playroom was clean. Really clean. I praised the hell out of them because they did a fabulous job. Ollie got his 30 minutes of Indie Harry Potter LEGO game and I started getting stuff together for Cara’s playdough.

The first hint of trouble was when the time went off. The timer I had warned him about numerous times. I let him know it was time to turn off the game and he hollered at me, “When I’m done!” I calmly–really–told him it was time to turn off the game and that I would give him until the count of three at which point I would turn off the game. He threw himself on the controller and started screaming.

He screamed and kicked and scratched and pinched and slapped me. He ran at me. He told me he loved me and just wanted to hug and kiss me and then he’d start another fit when I told him no and he’d come at me again and he meant to hurt me. This went on for…a long time until he calmed down and I calmed down and he sat in my lap and I rocked him and I cried. Not sobbing–I didn’t want to scare them.–but I cried and I was ashamed that he had scared me. I was ashamed that I had let him get under my skin and I was ashamed that I’m afraid I’m going to hold a grudge.  I was ashamed that I didn’t know what to do.

I still don’t know what to do.

Also? I may not have many “real life” friends but I love my online friends. Very much.

Erin, thanks for being awesome.

Image | id-iom

The reason the time matters to me is that I know tomorrow I’ll be OK. Tomorrow I hope I’m OK. When this posts, I’ll know. Probably.

Yesterday–today–was a rough fucking day.

Cara and Ollie were/are like they always are: they’re kids. They fight. They hit. They holler. They cry. They’re little cavemen and it’s my job to shape that behavior. At least in a perfect world, right?

Tucker called home around lunch time and he just sounded…off. I don’t know how else to describe it. And I got off the phone with him fast because I was being a bitch and I knew it but I wanted to blame him because it’s easier that way.

I just wanted to run away. I wanted to hide. I wanted to go. To…not be anywhere.

Did I want to kill myself? Hell no. Did I want to die? No. Did I want to hurt myself? Nope. Did I feel like an utter and complete failure at everything, totally and completely. Yeah, yeah I did/do.

Everything was/has been setting me off and by “setting me off” I mean I was/have been crying at the drop of a hat. Sappy song? Yeah. Nice comment on Facebook? That, too.

I felt/feel worthless and realized/realize it’s getting close to when I’m going to have to figure out some way to explain some of this to Cara.

I didn’t spend all day in bed. I got them cereal. I cooked lunch. I made/am about to make dinner. I put on makeup but didn’t take a shower. I’m still functioning. But Cara knows something just ain’t right and…well…fuck me.

She’s five. She doesn’t deserve this stupid bullshit.

I’m tired of using the dumb past/present tense crap. I’m sitting here watching the kids play some dumb Lego video game and I’m about to cry. Seriously? How dumb is that? Granted, the game does blow…

The “sometimes Mommy gets sad” talk isn’t one I want to ever have.

Fuck. Me.

And now I have to make dinner.

Image | Mike Licht, NotionsCapital.com

This past year has been full of ups and downs but aren’t they all?

I’m pretty shocked I’ve ended up with this many posts I want to rehash.

At any rate, let’s just get to the posts, shall we?

My Favorite Posts on Taste Like Crazy from 2011

1. My Left Boob – My left boob decided to produce blood. Which isn’t normal in any country…or boob…or whatever.
2. Get ‘em Checked – I made this because of #1. I’m pretty proud of it.
3. Show the Good, the Bad and the Ugly and Keep Going – Sometimes life is roses and sometimes life really, really sucks. Hiding the suck doesn’t help anyone.
4. The Belly Rub of Vulnerability – Sometimes going to vulnerable is where we have to go before we can be…free.
5. Four Pieces of One Heart - “That’s why the heart has four chambers; everyone gets one piece.”
6. KmartGamer: Take Me To E3 with You! – I entered a contest to go to E3 with Kmart. And then I crossed my fingers.
7. I Can Be Your Rock – I seem to excel at being a wimp. And then my husband needed me to be strong.
8. Do We Pay Too Much Attention To Our Kids? – How much attention is too much when it comes to our kids?
9. Sophie, The Goat Pit Bull, Ate Two Pounds of Homemade Caramel – I really like this one because I’m petty.
10. Ollie. A Bead. The Emergency Room. – As the title implies, Ollie put a bead in his ear. It was LOADS of fun.
11. I’m Going To E3 Cause I’m a Winner – Apparently crossing fingers helps you win contests to E3 since I won. WOOT!
12. We’re Evacuees Because of the Alabama Tornadoes – There were lots and lots of tornadoes and it was very scary. That doesn’t even begin to describe it.
13. Step By Step Easy Sun Dried Tomatoes Recipe – Super easy way to make “sun dried tomatoes.”
14. Six Good Things I Love. Six Bad Things I Hate. All A Part of Me – Good and bad…whatever. It’s just the way it is, right?
15. Self-Doubt and Green Haired Gilbert – When you write long enough–read that as when you’ve written for like a minute or so–you’ll encounter Gilbert. But Gilbert will probably be named something else. Just read the post. You’ll understand afterwards.
16. Video of Me At E3 – I include this because Cara said I have to include it. And who am I to argue with a five year old?
17. Father’s Day Comedic Gold: Hooker or a Maid? – It was funny at the time. In fact, it’s still funny.
18. Homemade Playdough Recipe – Playdough gets old and drys up and that costs money since you have to buy more. Solution? Make your own.
19. Falling – I wrote this a long time ago but I still love it even if Heather thinks it reeks of angst. Which, I guess it does.
20. I Spank My Kids – And then she wrote that.
21. Muse vs Plotting: Who Wins in a Cage Fight? – There’s the Muse and there’s plotting. Which is best? Which wins?
22. Sparkly Crotch and a Dance Fight – I’m not sure what’s going on either but it’s pretty awesome.
23. Suicide: The One Who is Fighting the Battle with Himself. – “Be a thorn in their side.”
24. The Night I Thought Tucker was Dead – I thought he was dead but he wasn’t. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared as hell at the time.
25. The Military: They’re Just Doing Their Jobs But Don’t Forget Them – I come from a long line of military and Tucker is Navy. I have some thoughts on this whole military thing.
26. Yesterday At Gymnastics or When Ollie Melts Down and Moms Are Cool As Hell – Who knew it only took a massive toddler meltdown to make one realize how cool people can be?
27. Where Do I Go From Here? – I still don’t have an answer for this one but that doesn’t mean this isn’t a good post.

I’ve been trying to figure out why it’s taken me so long to write a follow-up post to the “Where Do I Go From Here?” post and I’ve come to a couple of conclusions.

First and foremost is the fact that I knew I needed to respond to your comments and I just didn’t have it in me. You took the time to leave thoughtful comments the idea of doing the same made me tired. Understand I’m touched by the comments and though it’s cliché, it was me and not you.

There’s also the little matter of my desire to play Skyrim overwhelming my desire to write about…anything. Think of it as a Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs applied to modern digital life or some such.

I’m thinking I just needed a bit of a recharge.

I needed to step away from the internet rat race and just chill. If you follow me on Twitter or circle me on Google Plus then you know I didn’t go totally off the grid. In fact, I was more active on those two sites than I’ve been in a long time; something about those microemotional transactions was more appealing and manageable.

The kids are still in Arkansas–we left them to spend time with grandparents–and at this moment, as I listen to Tucker play Mass Effect, my only concern is if I want to expend the effort required to apply makeup before we go to Walmart. I’m thinking probably not.

I’m not saying I’m coming back to write every day or even every other day. That tiny amount of pressure seems too much and as Tucker tells me, I don’t have to blog. The world won’t end if I quit the internet for a while. And, hell, there’s more to the world than the computer. Balance has always been a problem of mine and this is just another manifestation of that.

I’m also not into doing the whole “New Year’s Resolution” thing but pushing against some comfort lines isn’t a bad thing and that’s what I’m planning on doing this coming year and in some ways, it goes along with me striking some kind of balance. I don’t know how many changes I can take on and actually succeed so I’m going with two: gym and not being a shut-in.

The gym part’s being taken care of by, well, joining a gym. There. That was easy. The hard part? Actually getting off my ass and going to the gym. Being that it’s a 24 hour jobber, my chances of coming up with a valid excuse has been reduced greatly.

The hermit shut-in part is a bit harder. And by “harder” I mean it’s more uncomfortable. I’d rather go to the gym every single day than have to meet new people. Really. New people are scary.

Last year at Blissdom I nudged the new people comfort line with my toe when I agreed to do a “Wisdom Workshop.” That required me to talk to new people but only for a short amount of time and after that I could hide if I wanted to hide. THIS year I’m a Community Leader at Blissdom. And I just threw up in my mouth a little.

It’s my job to keep a group of first-time Blissdom attendees from sobbing in the bathroom because they’re scared and feel alone. Not that I can identify with that at all. It wasn’t Blissdom and I wasn’t sobbing. That’s all I’ll say on that topic. This is me taking the new people comfort line and giving it a massive shove. I thinking part of my brain knows I can do this and that everything will be roses. The triune/reptilian part of my brain wants me to run away. Lizards are silly creatures so I’m going to try and ignore that brain segment.

I leave you with three posts: “The Belly Rub of Vulnerability,” “Let’s Be Nice” and “My Basket.”

See ya when I see ya.

I have entered no man’s land with regards to where I stand in the blogging world.

And that’s awesome when you’re just blogging cause you want to write about what’s going on with your life and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

BUT, when you’re wanting to gain some respect in MULTIPLE areas, it’s hard to do so with one blog.

Jack of all trades, master of none. That’s me.

Focus? What’s that?

I can remember telling my father, as we drove to the next bean field that needed to be checked, that I was a hell of a catch.

I was 14.

I knew about horses and horse breeding and Quarter Horse bloodlines. I had “soft hands” and had broken my first horse–I still have her. She lives at Tucker’s parents’ house. She was born in ’89.–when I was nine. I knew about crop rotation and pesticides and herbicides. I had been driving since I was 11. I could cook like a hell of a housewife. I could read people like The Mentalist.

I was a hell of a catch.

Now I’m almost 30–shot yo mouth!!!–and I can do all of those things and I’m damn savvy at Twitter and Google + and I can do websites–I did Taste Like Crazy and Sims 3 Gamer…among others–if someone wants to pay me. I know about monetization and actually make money with my sites. I know tech and I know gaming. I won a spot with KmartGamer to get an everything included trip to E3. I write for Kmart Gamer now. I’m a damn good writer. No. Really. I’m working on a book and it doesn’t suck. Ask, Crissy. She’s read some of the rough chapters. I know about spirits/booze from writing at b5Media. I know about Sim 3 and have a site dedicated to the subject.

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t want a million sites which is why I started my “baby feeds.” I’ve gotten some subscriptions to the various feeds–you can subscribe by looking above the header–and I like the idea that I’ve given people the option to read what they’re interested in reading. I like the fact that I can write about tech one day and booze the next and maybe I can publish a story and if you’re only interested in Mental Health then that’s all you read. I write about my/our life. I suppose I could be classified as a “mommy blogger” if you only read my “Life” feed.

I know I don’t write as honestly as I did when I first started Taste Like Crazy–then it was called Tastes Like Crazy but I couldn’t buy Tastes Like Crazy since someone was camping on my URL. I sensor myself more now. Can you believe it?! Me. Censoring myself. Heh.

Some “brands” are put off by my cussing–I write like I talk and think. Some don’t know what hole I fill–That sounds so dirty.

You can’t please everyone but I feel like I’m not pleasing anyone.

Least of all myself.

Maybe I’m supposed to figure out where I fit and go from there? But do I pick one and ignore everything else?

I had hoped all of this rambling would help me focus on something I’m passionate about. I had hoped I could pare down to what makes me me. Result?

I’m more confused than when I started.

What do I want?

I want to contribute to our monthly income. I want to not feel like a parasite. I want to prove that I am more than “just a mom.” I want my kids to still have their mom and I want to do a damn good job with them and I haven’t done a BAD job. Can one balance doing a damn good job with their kids and finding success with what they want to do.

What if they don’t know what they want to be when they grow up?

Over the past holiday weekend, I’ve decided that the holidays need mental help. They are, in fact, bipolar and should, most likely, be medicated.

I’ve also decided this bipolarishness comes from highly set expectations that might be attainable if not for unfamiliar ovens and dry dressing and the black hole that is moving. And I mean “moving” as in you’re moving from your craptastic apartment to your awesome house and not that an actual BLACK HOLE IS MOVING since that would be fairly catastrophic.

Or so I’ve been told. By the elves. Space. Elves.

The one thing I’m proud of from Thanksgiving?

My turkey.

I love my turkey so much that I don’t care if you love it; it’s beautiful.

The main reason I’m so proud of it is that I don’t normally roast such a large bird. I normally roast chickens–quite well, might I add.

This dude/chick was big.

The picture above is me trying to slather yummy herbed butter over everything. I was just about up to my elbow. GRANTED, I DO have T-Rex arms…

When it comes to sides and the recipe says–cause recipes can talk–that it feeds 8-10, it means that it actually feeds 10-10000000 and you really don’t need to cook that many potatoes. I currently have the “small” pot of potatoes sitting on the back porch. They’re still covered in the original water. They’re still raw. I have it on good authority this is how you make vodka.

Or a science experiment.

Or ebola.

Other than the turkey, I was proud of the dry dressing which is totally messed up since that stuff was DRY! We’re talking croutons.

Once you added enough gravy it was perfect. I’m proud of it because I made the oatmeal bread and cornbread I used in the dressing and I used real sage and the onions and celery were caramelized and there was bacon and heavy cream. I think I’m proud of it because I knew what it could have been and what it might be if I add some more chicken stock.

Hi, pride! My name’s Amy! Nice to meet you.

This house thing has me all Martha Stewart nesting and stuff. Is that a bad thing?

I want the cool seasonally appropriate mantle decorations.

I want the house to smell like a movie set house looks like it would smell on Thanksgiving or Christmas or Easter or whatever.

Maybe that’s where the bipolar holiday thing/high expectation thing comes in? I just want it to be good. I want it to be pretty. I want to do it better than I’ve done it before. I want people–if we knew other people–to say how cool everything was.

I need yur approval!

But that’s not what the holidays are supposed to be about, right?

The thanks giving and the fond memories and kinsmanship. That’s the ticket, right?

Maybe I’m the bipolar one?

Oh…wait.

Heh

Image | Tyler, A

Now I just sit there and let him ramble if he wants. He mentions coming and seeing us but, considering he said that the whole four years we were stationed in Florida, I doubt that’s going to happen.

Then again, he could totally surprise me.

He hasn’t been himself the last few times I’ve talked with him…he drifts off to the point I have to ask if he’s there. He’s just kind of out of it. He sounds sober but just not “with it.” But even with all that weirdness, I don’t feel like I’m being played by him. Haven’t felt that unguarded with him in a very long time. So long, in fact, that I can’t remember ever totally letting my guard down.

And that’s exactly what I did since I mentioned to Cara that Dad was sending her some birthday money.

What you have to understand is that my dad is a compulsive liar and not so great with the follow-through. When I was little, I spent more weekends with my aunts and uncles than I did with my dad since he would say he was coming to get me on his weekend and would end up sending someone else.

You can see why I should have known better than to get Cara’s hopes up.

I honestly thought he was telling the truth and he might be still. He called yesterday to see if the check had shown up–I had just gotten back from checking the mail. The check wasn’t there.

“I mailed it on Saturday! I went to the post office and mailed it myself. The people at this post office are horrible…”

“Well, I’ll let you know if/when it shows up.”

Then he asked to talk to Cara and wish her a happy birthday and I put him on speaker phone. That’s always an awkward moment for me. The kids don’t know my father. I could probably count on one hand the number of times they’ve even seen him and yet he expects them to tell him that they love him. I have good kids who want to know him because he’s my father but even with him on the phone, Cara hides behind my leg and whispers to him.

Once I got off the phone, I explained to Cara that my father lies a lot and that I grew up with him promising me things that he never did. I had to tell her that there’s a good chance that he didn’t mail any money.

That just sucks.

Sucks a lot more than him lying to me. And maybe he’s not lying.

Maybe the check will show up today and we’ll call him and Cara will thank him. But I don’t know what I’ll do if he does what I figure he’s going to do…what he’s probably already done which is lie so he feels good about himself. Tucker has said from the start that if Dad promises one of the kids something and then doesn’t deliver that he’s gone.

Does this count? I should have just kept my mouth shut. Maybe she’ll forget?

She never forgets anything…

It’s pretty pathetic that I’m crossing my fingers hoping the check will show up so I can feel justified for clinging to a tiny piece of hope that he’ll stop being a flaky fuck.

People say, people don’t change, they just have momentary steps outside of their true character.
~ Chad Kultgen

An interesting thing happened recently: I took a break from the internet and didn’t miss it.

I didn’t really mean to take a break and it’s no coincidence that my “break” perfectly coincided with me receiving my copy of Sims 3 Pets.

Is it sad that digital ponies have more of a draw than digital friends at this moment?

No Twitter. No Google Plus. No sites. Really nothing other than checking my email every now and then.

That’s actually a pretty big change since I’m a perpetual Twitter user. And, of course, the internets would roll over and die if I wasn’t on them all the time. Right?

Apparently not.

I’m not quite sure if I’m depressed or if this all just doesn’t matter as much as it did. What’s pretty funny is I don’t feel the need to examine it too closely.

We’re buying a house and that’s exciting and I feel like I should have been writing about every step of it but…meh.

And Ollie killed a butterfly that was in the backyard at the house and then lied to Cara when she asked where it went and it was both hilarious and disturbing at the same time and maybe I should have written a big, long post about it?

Just the idea of doing both of those makes me tired.

Randomness: read Before I Fall.

Yeah, it’s YA. The protagonist is a chick and the book is complete with teen angst and boy issues. But the book’s good and I liked it.

View from my backyard.

Now you’re caught up.