As some of you may have noticed, I’ve stepped away from the blog for a couple of days. For those of you who didn’t…….well……I wasn’t paying attention to you either, so I guess we’re even. Nothing spectacular happened to cause me to break from writing. No one was in the hospital. I didn’t go on vacation and I didn’t watch a bunch of porn, but how awesome would that have been? I just hung out (not out of my clothes, although I am getting there) around the homestead and ran a couple of errands. Pretty boring stuff.

WEEKEND VACA FROM BLOGGING:

I went to the YMCA for the parent/child swim class my one year-old is in.  Last week we had to show the kids what to do if they fell in the pool. Of course, we had to do this on our son’s behalf. We put his little hands on the side of the pool and pushed him up to safety. So this week, the kids were supposed to try this again and perhaps with a little less help. His incentive was a rubber duck on the poolside, which was placed out of reach. Okay. I’m thinking…..”This sounds great, but no fucking way.” I don’t like to limit my son just because he has down syndrome, but he isn’t doing a hands and knee crawl yet, he’s not pulling himself up and he’s like a tiny T-Rex with the short little arms and short little legs. How the hell is he going to grab the edge of the pool and get himself up? I put him in the water with me and faced him towards the side. Sure enough. That little machine grabbed the edge himself, whipped his right leg up as high as he could and clawed himself out, toe nails and all,  as if he was a guest in that crazy dudes basement in The Silence of The Lambs. I guess rubber ducks are to babies what wads of money are to adults. So like the proud father he is, my husband has already envisioned where the medals from the special olympics and other sporting activities will go.

After the YMCA, we hit the elegant Wal-Mart and then to Arby’s to get some lunch to go. Now that is not exciting in itself, but my experience with Arby’s was life changing. I know……how is a large roast beef sandwich a life-changer?

Let me show you how with this lovely picture of my sandwich.

That’s the bottom of my sandwich. I took a few bites and thought the bread had an odd (fucked up) texture. I flipped it over and there it was. It was quite disturbing, but I’ve been through worse. In highschool, I had two horrible food experiences at my friend’s house. One involved me chowing down on a tray of food that was for the dog. The second time I had some hot cocoa (packet mix) at her house. I thought the marshmallows were unusually crunchy……turned out to be maggots.   Swigged quite a bit of alcohol and kept her up all night with my “busting out a hair ball” throat sounds.

I decided to use this experience as a sign. First, I thought it was a sign to make money, but I’m not going to sue anyone over moldy bread. Now, I would if I thought I could win and not be a laughing-stock in the media. Who wouldn’t want to live off someone else’s money? Instead, I decided to take it as a sign to make some better choices….healthy choices. I have a one year-old and I’m starting to feel like his gramma.

SO…………No more fast food. (fingers crossed…..Think of the mold. Think of the mold.)

Go to bed earlier. I was drastic this weekend. I went to bed at 8:30 Saturday and 9:15 on Sunday. For the past few years, I’ve stayed up between midnight and 2 a.m. The beauty sleep is bullshit. I didn’t wake up any better looking. I will say this. If you think you’re hideous looking…..stay up really late. The bags and wrinkles are a great way to mask your natural appearance and a wonderful excuse as well.

Stop eating so much crap. That goes with the sleep thing. Once the kids go to bed, I always break out the good stuff, because I’m sure as hell not going to share it with them. Lots of pepperoni, cheese, chips and dips have crossed my lips and landed on my thighs and ass.

Exercise. I run my mouth a lot, so that’s in really good shape and looks awesome, but I need to work on the rest. There are no excuses. I have a lot of gym equipment, weights, videos and a membership to the Y. Tomorrow I have a consult with a Y “somebody or other” to get a plan going. If I’m accountable to someone, then maybe I’ll stick with it. It’s one thing to be known as a quitter to people you know, but it’s another thing with a stranger. I don’t give a damn what my friends and family think. Where are they going?

Aside from that excitement, I ripped into my ex (it happens now and again) for coming up with yet more reasons he can’t see the kids, has to switch weekends, will be late picking them up, but early dropping them off. Lately, he has a doctor’s appointment every time he is supposed to get the kids. What amazes me….he never seems to know about the appointments until that day. I guess I’m special. My doctor allows me to make my appointments in advance. He can’t see the kids on Thanksgiving because he is going to a wedding over the weekend (Ohio). I don’t know what one fucking thing has to do with the other. He said he has to pack, which will take him until 2 p.m on Thursday, so even though he lives in the same fucking neighborhood, he can’t see them. AND……. He will be so busy and traffic will be so bad, he probably can’t see them the following Monday either. Oh yeah….and now he can’t see them the next weekend he has them, because he is hosting a detox session. WTF! If you knew my ex, you’d know how ridiculous this is. Apparently, he has a friend (shocker #1) who wants to quit drinking and thought that hanging out with my ex (who mixes his meds with alcohol) and some other guys (who also drink) for a weekend to keep him sober would be a great idea. Let’s take a poll on how long it will take them all to be smashed with strippers in the house! Is it out of style to go to rehab or seek real medical advice in such situations? I guess I’m just old school. My hubby and I decided not to have any more kids. Maybe I should consider a tubal ligation, but get my girlfriends together and have it at one of their houses.

Add to that: being double billed for online purchases, a sick child, a van with a flat tire and you’ve experienced this past weekend along with me. I hope you enjoyed the ride! It’s what happens when you aren’t blogging.