Tag Archives: kids

A Life Choice: Redux


Just to be clear, I don’t want to get to the end of my life with 5 boys and no man and realize I left the one I was supposed to be with to live out his life playing guitar without me to listen to him.

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A Life Choice


I’m sorry, my Lovelys. There will be no witty or completely entertaining post from me today, because the ugly Depression Monster crawled out from under my bed and is holding on to me for dear life. (Or for dear death. That seems to make more sense for some reason.)

The joys of going through life without treating bi-polar disorder include having completely shitty days where the sun doesn’t shine, even if it’s blazing a hole through the ozone layer outside. (For the record, it’s not sunny out today here in Minnesota anyway.) The stupid nagging that has reared it’s ugly head in the back of my mind for months has finally gotten to the point where something needs to be done about it. And unless someone is will to adminster a labotomy, it looks like I’m stuck with actually making a life decision. (My record isn’t exactly great when it comes to those.)

I want children. (Even though there are days when I hate the little bastards) I want to hold my baby and sing him songs, and I want to teach my 3 year old to read all the amazing children’s books that exist. Ideally, it would be best if I could ship my kids off to a home from the ages of 13-17, but I realize that’s not really an option, so I would be willing to deal with the bullshit of puberty and raging hormones in order to end up with a person with a little bit of me in them.

That being said, my Rockstar has made it abundantly clear that he does not long for more children than the one he already has. (In fact, he didn’t long for her to begin with, either, but that’s a story for another time.) I know that men do not change their minds, and anyway, I am not one of those women who WANT to change men’s minds. (Unless it has to do with changing a penis from a softy to a boner.) Given his mindset, I know that if we were to have a child together, he would end up resenting me, and I am not to be resented. And no matter what people say and how hard I try to make it so, having his Daughter around is NOT the same as having my own kid. So there.

In the past, I was with a man fully willing to assist me in the parentage of said 5 boys. However, either his swimmers were slow, or I lack proper plumbing- either way, we tried for over two years without results. (The way things turned out, I suppose that was a good thing.)

So the question is- Do I give up the possible life of almost-childless bliss with my Rockstar to pursue probably ending up alone without even a step-child? When these are my choices, do you people see why I detest making life choices?

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A Conversation Between Cool People


So I met up with my Rockstar and his Daughter at the mall yesterday after a bizarrely weird day at work. As my Rockstar checked out the quality of the latest athletic shoes, the Daughter and I were sitting patiently in the try-on chairs provided, when I noticed a delightfully polka-dotted skirt she was wearing that I had never seen before. This was how the following conversation went…

Me: What a super-cute skirt you have on there!

Her: Yeah, I love it. My Mom says I’m starting to dress like you.

(Pause)

Me: Is that a good thing?

Her: She doesn’t think so.

(Another pause as I make a face in my head and think, “Well, la dee da.”)

Me: Oh? Why not?

Her: Well, before you were around, I used to wear jeans and normal stuff. She thinks I should wear that kind of stuff all the time and not cute fancy stuff like I want to wear. But I think I should be able to wear whatever I want, don’t you?

Me: Absolutely. After all, who wants to wear normal boring stuff?

Her: Not you and me, because we are so much cooler than normal people.

And here I thought I was having no influence on the kid….

 

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Filed under Beauty, Children, Family, Fashion, Humor, Life, Uncategorized

When I Was A Kid


When I was a kid, my friend and I loved to play Barbies. She had at least 50 Barbies, the Barbie Corvette, Dreamhouse, and a buttload of Ken Dolls for Barbie to choose from. I, on the other hand, had one Barbie with a perm,(which turned into a rat’s nest after I took her in the bathtub) a Theresa doll, (Barbie’s brunette friend), and a mini Care Bear that I had to use as Barbie’s boyfriend. (Didn’t know Barbie was in to bestiality, did ya?) My friend and I would spend hours upon hours trying to figure out the mechanics of a boy/girl relationship with our Barbies (fortuneately, neither Barbie nor Ken were anatomically correct, so our innocence stayed intact) and dancing our Barbies away on the roof of her Barbie Dream House. How things have changed.

This morning, my Rockstar’s Daughter begged me to play Barbies with her. Sadly, despite my amazing imagination, my attempts at Pretending are not what they used to be. Instead, I rely on the Daughter to provide the story line. Imagine my surprise when my two Barbie sisters were invited to a dance, where they were then beat down and humiliated by the Barbie host. Barbies are so volitile nowdays…

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Sparklebumps’ Top Nine Pet Peeves


#1. Open-mouthed chewing and/or loud eating habits- absolutely without a doubt the most obnoxious habit in the ENTIRE world. There is nothing more irritating than having to listen to someone smack their lips while eating their dill-pickle-flavored chips. When finally they are done chewing and have swallowed, the agony begins again with another handful. Popcorn is especially obnoxious, as well. I can think of nothing worse than to be seated at a table with people of this sort and to be unable to smother them with a loaf of bread when they so unwittingly offend me so. Sadly, it seems to be my lot in life to be surrounded by people that refuse to chew with their mouths closed.

#2. Lazy people- I detest people who are simply to lazy to do what is required of them. This usually manifests itself at a job, but if you are too lazy to clean the cat shit out of the litter box at home- that pisses me off too. I admit that I am a complete lazy fucker- AFTER the house is clean and there is nothing else to be done. At work, I have my moments of utter slackerism, but for the most part, I’m there to work, not to hear about your stupid fight with your stupid boyfriend because you’re too stupid to dump his stupid ass.

#3 Stupid people- I would like to think that God didn’t deem it necessary to make stupid people. Unfortuneately, this thought is glaringly absurd when I find myself surrounded by morons. I try to be nice to the ones who don’t know any better, but the ones that are stupid on purpose? That is just not acceptable.

#4 Taylor Swift- I don’t even want to talk about it.

#5 People who cannot control their children- these and the Stupid People are sometimes one in the same. I do not find it remotely acceptable when your child is screaming “Shut up!” or “No, I won’t!” when I am going about my business. I do not like to be run into by the child that is running rampant through a store while their parent is gazing on in a dim-witted fashion. I believe that these parents should be sterilized and their children shipped off to a deserted island where man-eating gators flourish.

#6 Fuckerhead Drivers- the definition of these people encompasses many things. The person who is driving too slow when I can’t pass them; the person who is driving to slow because they are on the phone; the person who is driving to slow because they suck ass. Generally, the drivers who won’t get the fuck outta my way.

#7 People who scream at their kids- if you didn’t want them, you shouldn’t have had them. That’s all I have to say about that.

#8 Muffin tops- buy some pants that fit, yo. The excess fat you have hanging over your pants makes you look fat, even though you’re skinny, and it makes me so mad.

#9 Corn Nuts- you might as well say, “Pass the bag of noisy-to-eat bits of crap that smell like vomit and the bottom of my toilet, please.”

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The Facts According to a 9 Year Old


On the way home from picking up my Rockstar’s Daughter, she informed me that she saw three Mercury Cougars like mine while at recess today. She even saw one “with a dent just like mine. It was red too.” I said, “I guess the red ones are the ones that get the dents.” Her response? “No, I think it’s just the ones that are owned by people who dye their hair every month like you.” It totally makes sense…. in my crazy world.

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I Have No Friends…Should I Be Upset?


Happy 6 AM, Lovelys! I’m surprisingly awake for having drunk (drank) a third of a bottle of vodka last night. However, I AM contemplating crawling back into bed after completing this post. Today I will address the fact that I essentially have no friends, the reasons I believe this to be true, and the why this doesn’t really bother me. (although I feel like it SHOULD bother me.)

I suppose I cannot say I have NO friends- there are certainly a few people I could call up that would probably “hang” with me if I asked them to- and my friend Carebear is the person I consider to be my only friend, even though I haven’t seen her in over a year. (She did call when she found out I was fired)  I am well aware that where any lack of friends is concerned, I myself am solely to blame. I will tell you why:

I don’t answer my phone.

Perhaps it is the fact that I was not allowed to answer the phone at home while I was growing up, or the fact that a remarkable amount of my phone calls are bill collectors, but I have obtained a slight malevolence toward my cellular device. It matters not that I have changed the ringtone to the opening music of  Law and Order SVU; when my phone rings, I feel no desire whatsoever to push the little green button and lift the phone to my ear. I have a secret foreboding if I speak into a phone, my voice will somehow resemble that of the demon-possesed Emily Rose on the other end. And as most normal people prefer NOT to have entire conversations in text, I have forfeited friends simply by not answering their calls. No matter that I will text them endlessly if they wish to chat.

Girls don’t generally like me.

I don’t necessarily know this fact to be true, but it certainly seems that when I try to be friendly to aquaintances (check out Party or Bust) I am avoided like a leper, or in the least, my approach is received with trepidation. That is not to say that I’ve not made friends with co-workers at my various places of business, however, those girls all seem to have their own lives, with no time for a Sparkle. And as my Rockstar would not appreciate the many guys who would like to be my “friend”, (or as he puts it, “You know they just want to fuck you, right?”) I am resolved to settling for my Rockstar as my source of merrymaking. (Which I’m completely content with)

Groups of people are scary. (More than 2 is a group)

My one friend Carebear is the complete opposite of me in this sense. She thrives on getting all her friends together in one place, such as having a girls night, or getting together for drinks with her coupled friends. For me, I would much rather be thrown into a vat of boiling hot dog poo. I find it difficult to have a meaningful conversation with one person when another person who is not me insists on chiming in at various intervals. Perhaps it is because I like to maintain eye-contact with the person I’m speaking to, and when there is more than one, I get dizzy. When I am one-on-one with a person, I can converse infinitely on any variety of subject with that person, but as soon as another person is added to the conversation, my vocal chords immediately shut down and I become a mute. It matters not if I know both people. Yes, I realize there may be underlying issues here.

People are assholes.

My making this statement should clear up any remaining queries you all may have as to why I have no friends. But allow me to annotate: I generally attempt to be kind and sparkley to any person I come in contact with- however, if judgement is cast upon me in any fashion, I immediately shut down said sparkle and cease to be interested in further aquaintance with the judger. This may be a kind of judgement in it’s own way, but friends are supposed to love you for who you are, not for who they want you to be. And since sex and boobs and saying what you think can be offensive to those with more delicate sensibilities, I tend to procure much more judgements than I do friends.

Now I will tell you why I am not bothered by my lack of chums: I would prefer to read a book than talk about the latest hot guy at work; I like to spend time with my Beloveds, and don’t want to feel that I’m neglecting them by going out with friends when I could be home with them, and any girls my age usually have their own children and most seem to have forgotten that they were a person BEFORE they were a mother, and I do not find constant chatter of animal crackers amusing.

Yes, there are occassions when I believe it would be lovely to have a group of gals you could always count on like in Sex and the City, but I suppose until I can find some girls who don’t want to talk on the phone, who will love me even though my boobs are bigger, who don’t want to have a girl’s night, and who will let me eat all the french fries without thinking, “She’s going to get fat”, I will have to amuse myself with my 13 other personalities. And when my Rockstar dies, I shall be one of those incredibly talented hermit-types.

 

P.S. I Do consider all my bloggy people to be my friends, though you would probably all hate me in real life. XOXO

 

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Secret Keepers


“Can you take Em to school tomorrow?” My Rockstar asks.

You have no idea how I have come to dread these words.

No, it is not because I despise his child, or because I have a crippling phobia of school grounds (although groups of kids scare the BeJesus out of me). No, it is for the simple reason that the last 3 or 4 times I’ve taken his daughter to school, I’ve had to hear this repeated in various and still-hurtful ways- “Everything was better BEFORE you were around. Why don’t you go live somewhere ELSE!” Yes, a 9 year old can hurt my feelings.

My Rockstar’s Daughter does not despise me either, but I’m beginning to wonder if she suffers from bi-polar disorder. This morning was a prime example of why I suspect so.

I am NOT a morning person. Honestly, I could probably say I am not even a PERSON in the morning. I more closely resemble that scary Excorcist chic (when she was possessed) or any other frightening monster you only wish to meet never. So getting a kid up and ready for school in the morning is decidedly not my favorite thing to do. Luckily, I got laid last night, so I wasn’t in quite as terrible of a mood. Normally it takes every fiber of my being to retain my morning angst to narrowing my eyes at any unfortunate soul who happens to pass by. This morning, the Daughter woke up, got ready, and proceeded to ogle me as I slapped on my normal poundage of make-up. (I wear make-up as an accessory only- there’s no reason to cover up my face). Traditionally, being so inspected irks me, but this morning I simply asked the Daughter if she wanted her hair done. She requested curls, so off I went, posing as a hairdresser.

On the way to school, she rambled on about age, and how funny it was that I am now 30, my Rockstar is 40, and she shall be 10. She asked when her dad’s birthday was, and informed me that she was thinking of saving her money to buy him a black-and-white guitar for his 41st. The following is the conversation we had after that statement.

Me: That’s very fun. Maybe I can throw in some money for that if you let me put the name on the card?

Her: Ok.

Me: I was actually thinking of buying him a gold guitar for Christmas; you could help me buy that instead if you want, and we could give it to him together.

Her: Ok.

(I do not really know what possessed me to tell her the following- the only thing I can think is that I was so thrilled to be NOT hearing how I should move to another continent.)

Me: Do you want to know a secret?

Her: (perking up) YES! Tell me!

Me: I will, but you must promise NOT to tell ANYONE. I mean, ANYONE.

Her: Ok, I won’t.

Me: Pinky swear? (as any smart person knows, this is the most important binding oath)

Her: Pinky swear. (we actually shook on it.)

Me: So I’ve been thinking, if I give Daddy a guitar for Christmas, that I might ask him to marry me. (To be clear, the guitar is supposed to replace an engagement ring, and if I am to do the proposing, I will do it in style.)

Her: (eyes  widening) ( and silence- but a smile working it’s way to her face)

Me: DON’T tell ANYONE!

Her: I’m going to tell Daddy! (I was afraid of this)

Me: NO! YOU CANNOT! You pinky swore!

Her: Ok, I won’t.

Me: But you never know, he might say no. So maybe I won’t ask.

Her: Well, I should tell him he should ask YOU.

Me: That would be preferred. But you can’t tell him I had anything to do with it.

Her: I could just ask him if he likes LIKES you, and then he could say yes or no. And then if he says yes, I would say, “Well, you should marry Sparklebumps, because she is a very nice woman. And she is poor.” (True, but I’m not exactly sure why this should matter, as we are not living in the 18th century.)

Me: (laughing) Yes, I suppose you could say that.

Her: I asked someone to marry me once.

Me: Oh? And what did he say?

Her: He didn’t say anything, because he was a gingerbread man. Will you make me a gingerbread man someday?

Me: Yes, of course.

Her: I have a secret. But you can’t tell ANYBODY.

Me: Ok, I won’t unless you tell my secret. Then I’m allowed to tell yours.

Her: Ok. (leaning in to whisper) I’m half human and half werewolf.

All I can say is this ride to school was infinitely better than the last few. Even if I DID have to share secrets with a werewolf girl.

P.S. XOXO to everyone who read my blog this weekend! I was more popular than ever!

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A Kid Story


So my Rockstar’s daughter doesn’t like to read. If you know anything about me, you will realize what a tragedy this is. Anyway, I wrote a story about her, hoping maybe she would get into reading. Sadly, since I didn’t include pictures, she wasn’t interested. Since I have nothing of import to post today, I shall let you all read it.

Last Wednesday, Emily Madison awoke with a jump

and she sat up real quick,

because she heard a great THUMP.

And she felt it too!

For there on her head,

all lumpy and warty,

sat a toad, calm as could be,

acting as though her head was some kind of party.

She opened her mouth to let out a yell

and you never would guess what happened!

Well, a bird flew right in there!

It’s true! I swear!

That bird flew right into her mouth without care.

Now, I have never woke up

with a toad on my head;

neither have I had a bird in my mouth while

I’m sitting in bed.

But I can imagine it would be quite hard to say,

“Help me!” or “What’s this?”

or something like, “Hey!”

Emily Madison, she huffed and she puffed,

but the only thing that even almost came out was, “MMMPPFF!”

That bird in her mouth was stuck in there good.

And the toad on her head wasn’t going anywhere, too.

So, Emily Madison thought hard as she could, and I must say, with the toad and the bird, that wasn’t easy to do!

She thought harder and harder, ’til her thinker was blue,

What could she; what couldn’t she; oh! what would she do?!

If she went off to school with this toad and this bird,

everyone there would think her simply absurd!

And really, that bird wasn’t tasting so great.

When it’s feathers tickled her nose, she gave her head a small shake,

and then, THEN…. “A-A-A-CHOOOOO!”

She sneezed. Then BOTH the bird and the toad flew!

With a PLA-PLA-PLA-PLOOEY!

Emily spit out a feather, and screamed at the top of her voice,

“Well, I NEVER!!!!!!”

Emily Madison never did quite know why

that morning that toad and that bird had stopped by.

But from that morning on, when she got tucked in at night-

She put on a hat, and she shut her mouth TIGHT!

THE END

 

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WTF Moment From Yesterday


I didn’t have time to write about my WTF moment from yesterday.

My Rockstar’s daughter had her parent/teacher conference scheduled for yesterday. My Rockstar surprisingly asked me if I wanted to go with him when he went to town. Aright, I can go with. So imagine my surprise when we get to the school and he says, “So, you can just sit in here and listen to tunes.” Apparently, it was quite stupid of me to assume when he invited me to go to town, it was to be included in the educational welfare of his child. WTF. Of course I would rather sit in the car like a leper.

P.S. Combine that with the fact that he stole my mammoth bowl of candy today, and you can see why he’s not my favorite person right now.

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