Birthday

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Today is my 24th birthday. Yay.

I’m always excited about birthdays. I believe birthdays should be the most important day to any individual, held to higher esteem than even Christmas. Yeah, Christmas. Even if you’re one of those kids who gets tons of presents under the tree. Your birthday is all about you and the fact that you get to be alive and get to celebrate being here another year. It’s not something to take for granted, even though it is easy to.  And even if you’re one of those types who is constantly sacrificing for others, there should be one day where you get to tell everyone else to fuck off, or buy you a cake.

I had everything planned for today. I was going to spend the day at the mall and spend my birthday money on some new nice clothes and eat lunch in the food court, and then tonight I was going to be joined by my friends and brother at the restaurant of my choosing. It was supposed to be awesome.

But alas, something had to give.

I did get to spend a good 3 hours at the mall with a fussy toddler who, surprise, was not all about shopping with the birthday girl. I did find some excellent deals, like finding 2 really nice pairs of trousers at Old Navy on clearance for $2 each.  TWO DOLLARS EACH. That is less than you pay at Goodwill. And they were new. Yes, the mall must’ve known it was my day, because even the Israeli soap hagglers didn’t try to stop me once, and I passed them like a dozen times.

I digress. It all came crumbling down when I got horribly sick in the middle of the mall. It was my usual sick, which I would rather not describe in detail. All I will tell you is I get horrible stomach cramps, cramps that wreck my whole body, causing me to become weak and see spots, cause my heart to palpitate, and make me want to die. And then ends with me dashing to the family-friendly bathroom with the lock on the door. It was so embarrassing. If it just ended with the flush of a toilet, then I wouldn’t be complaining, but today’s attack was especially bad, and even now after I have taken medicine, I am still feeling the effects of it. I am weak, achy, and still midly cramping, and Vance went and picked up a delicious dinner from Chili’s for me that I am not sure I will be able to eat.

I came home and crashed on the bed and napped until about 20 minutes before I was supposed to meet my friends for dinner. I had to call and cancel at the last minute, and I felt fucking terrible for it. My friends had already left their house when I called them. I felt like an asshole for not letting them know 20 minutes sooner. But it was apparently okay because I was a sick asshole.

There are bright points in my day. Vance’s birthday present to me was a new cell phone that was supposed to arrive tomorrow and ended up arriving today. He can afford it because he added a line to a family talk plan. He is so great at picking out presents. And he is sweet and wonderful. For all the time he drives me insane lately there are 10 other moments where he makes me realize how amazing and special he is and how lucky I am to have found him. I guess this is marriage. It has moments that make you want to wretch and moments when you know can’t live without this person.

I got a lot of great cards and wishes and generous gifts from the people around us. I realize I am insanely lucky to have these people around who care enough to join in my excitement for my own selfish holiday. They are also the same people who have helped our family stay afloat and thrive. So thank you for all the gifts and love.

…and it was good.

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This was a pretty good weekend, much deserved after a painfully uneventful week.

Saturday we saw Star Trek, which I had been anticipating since I first heard about it early last year. I hadn’t been this excited about a new media release since the original announcement of the Sims 3 (which doesn’t come out until June 2) or since I found out I was pregnant. Go ahead and Throw all 3 Lord of Ring movies in there too. (But unlike LOTR, I couldn’t be there for the first showing on opening day, or make any of the advanced screenings. I have a kid and no money and a husband who would never forgive me if I were to see this movie without him.)

The movie was unbelievably good. Everything about the movie was great. It was nerdy, but unlike the original Star Trek movies, it did not alienate non-nerds. The action and the humor appealed to all. The casting was flawless, all shoes filled appropriately, and the writing was impeccable.

But I do have one complaint, and once you read this you will understand why Vance hates watching and then discussing movies with me.
Zach Quinto had probably the biggest shoes to fill out of the entire cast. Spock is a memorable character, and casting the wrong guy for the part would have been the death of the movie. Fortunately, he did great.  He did better than I had expected him to do, and has proven his capabilities as an actor. The problem is, Zach Quinto is one hairy son of a bitch, and it showed. I know he probably shaved in the morning on set, but while he was waiting to start his shadow started to come in on his face and unfortunately on his eyebrows. You could see where they did the waxing on his eyebrows because of the shadow, and because you could tell that part of his face had less sun exposure than the rest of his face. (I wish I had a still from the movie to prove this.)

See? Smallest, dumbest thing to be bothered by, but vulcans don’t have to shave their eyebrows, and they were mostly hair-free aside from their bowl haircuts. It was a little thing I noticed that snapped me back into reality and forced me to realize it was not Spock, just a guy playing him.

Other than that, awesome movie. Awesome.

Mother’s day was great too. The only thing I asked for was to be left alone for the day. To just be able to sit around, or lay in bed, watch tv, and not have to worry about Deven or Vance or anything for the whole day. I didn’t want a present or a card, (though I did get a Burger King kids meal) I just wanted peace and not to be argued with over it. And I was not disappointed.

I would write more, but Deven needs a bath and there are chicken wings that need eating.

better days

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I’ve been a real dick lately. I admit it. So shut up about it.

A couple of posts ago I got all emo and blamed it on the rain and thought it would be a good idea to be as honest as possible and post it on the internet for all the world to see. Mostly I complained about being bored, and then I admit that I had been a real asshole to Deven and even said that I sometimes resent him.

I know I have said in the past that being a wife is harder than being a mother, but motherhood is still fucking hard. Throw me a bone here.

I have been reading about Maddie Spohr who passed away suddenly on April 7. Now that the traffic on their site has died down, I am able to actually read some of the posts. At first I couldn’t read the posts about Maddie without getting this horrible sinking feeling in my stomach, like if I didn’t cry hysterically right that instant, my emotions were going to eject themselves by way of my stomach. I admire Heather and Mike’s strength, and how they are able to go on writing about it on their blogs, I don’t know. Maybe it helps them cope.

Every time I read through their posts, it always gets to a point to where the sadness is overwhelming and I have to turn to my own little mobile ball of destruction and stop him in the middle of whatever he is doing and hug the crap out of him. He protests rigorously because, hello, I just interrupted him in the middle of emptying the bookcase onto the floor and if he doesn’t finish then someone is going to put them all back on the bookcase and all of this will have just been a WASTE OF TIME. But it needs to be done. It should be done just about 20 times a day. The hugs, not emptying of the bookcase.

Sometimes I have bad days where I just want to run away, or at the very least spend the day in bed, where all it seems Deven is doing is misbehaving and driving me insane. Some Days I feel like I am not cut out for being a mom because I can’t handle my kid being a kid and doing kid things. This whole ECI thing has been a huge stress because I feel like there must be something I am doing wrong and I don’t know what that could be, all I know is my kid isn’t talking and it must be my fault. I am the only person he is around.

Those days I fail to see how beautiful Deven’s smile is, how funny his little chuckle is, how fun it is to watch him dance, and how I love to hear him laugh hysterically when I tickle him. I don’t want to take for granted how beautiful, and healthy, and smart he is. And that he’s MINE. I don’t want to forget how badly I wanted him and how much more complete I feel with him here. Those things are the anecdote for those horrible days, and I should strive to see through the fog from my frustration and tears and find them. And take videos of them. I must take more videos. When he is 12 and out slashing tires and stealing roadsigns, I am really going to appreciate how cute he was.

I used to not be this emotional over things. My mother’s death was probably the only time I was ever really able to show my emotions, and boy did I. Everyday for weeks it was like an avalanche of sobs and tears coming down upon the heads of anyone who was around me. After that I clammed right back up again. It’s only since I had Deven that I can allow myself to be vulnerable and show it on a regular basis. I guess it’s all that damn love boiling my cockles to the point of overflow.

It sucks that it takes the courage of a mother grieving for her beautiful daughter for us to appreciate what we have.

Deven maybe a little turd some times, but he is my turd, and I couldn’t go on without him.

It’s so funny how every time you point a camera in his face, he smiles. He knows whats up.