nerdies10…vote for me please :)

darling dearest audience of twelve,

won’t you meander over here and vote for me please?

Everyone who does gets a free ice-cream! And, I’ll Cam will sing you a song!

dual sentence RANT

NOBODY ever tells me to choose between my child and what THEY deem I am supposed to do.

What I am supposed to do is be a MOM.

(oh, and if you don’t like that, frankly, go fuck yourself. sideways).

so, here’s the thing

So, here’s the thing.

It’s no surprise to anyone reading this (yeah, that’s you, audience of twelve) that I am over the moon, totally awed shmooshy-crazed happyCath (TM).

But, this morning, my mom asked me the question

“So, how is *Shmooshy* with Cameron?”

And, let me tell you, bloggeratinessness…He is amazing. Simply amazing.

Weirdest, nicest part? It’s not like it’s work for him. It’s never something he actually actively works on. It’s just naturally what he does.

It’s kinda like he read this first.

(click the link, bitches. click the link).

Except, well, he didn’t.

Amazing hey?

Yep. I know. You’re all swooning with me.

shmooshness.

eddie izzard/eat dinner/cuddle/calm me down/wake me up/leave me to sleep for nine hours straight/love my tiny hands/listen to me rant about whatever urinated on my energy receptacle today /squeezes my hand/you use your male brain i’ll think about shoes/oh, those are cute/you can spot a mermaid within a five mile radius/i can put my head on your shoulder/let’s take a little holiday/i’ve decided /awesome because i am crap at decision-making/it’s okay/you go that way, i’ll go this way/whoever finishes first, phones/the way you say ‘hello my lovely”/i love that its okay to fiddle with my phone because you are too/i’m excited/you know, a while ago, i said i liked to slap post-its on things, but you slapped one on me/you are awesome/ you are also mine which is a whole new level of awesome/when you say it’s okay, it really feels okay/it’s status update time!/come here and i’ll distract you from everything else/ *doef*/sunshine/ninja cuddles and ****tea.

you help me keep the silence in my head when all else is chaotic.

dancing into friday.

1. i have peace. i do have peace.

2. i am loved. so loved.

3. i have hope. so much hope.

4. i have awe-inspiring, hands in the air, nose pressed against the window, dancing with me every day, amazing friends.

5. giving up caffeine is fucking hard. it throws you. alot more than you can guess.

6. i am capable and clever. and ready.

7. i will strap myself to the wings of the next plane headed towards destiny if i have to.

8. i will forgive you for that note. mostly because, i know i’m better than what you said. i can’t help it if you don’t see it. i see it. i am not the only one who feels this way. most of the time, i forget and things you say slay my brain and i cannot see beyond a negative comment. i refuse to let that happen today.

9. my daughter speaks so eloquently. she must’ve got that vocabulary from somewhere. that somewhere is me.

10. when Cam says: “mom, you are the best mama I could ever have wished for”, i know… i know that i am the luckiest mama that ever lived.

11. and how i do live. i live. unapologetically alive.

12. of all things that are possible, the fact that i am still here is the magic of every day.

and i ain’t going anywhere. i could be anything. i could be ordinary. i choose not to be. i could be the one.

i sign my name with pride. i step up. and i dance right into this friday.

(photo taken in the backseat of Cluckhoff’s car whilst zen hindu cow roadtripping with her and the Goose)

and the dumb person for today is…

When you’re Cath Jenkin, you totally have to deal with some very stupid people during the day. I have a litany of them strewn across my diary.

But, this one, this one takes the cake today. And the icing.

*drum roll please*

Clearly, some people are just over-qualified for their job /end sarcasm.

Think I’ll just transcribe the telephone conversation:

Cath: Hi, I’d like to report a faulty telephone line.

Numbnut at telephone services organisation I will not mention:  Yes. What seems to be the problem?

Cath: Yes, line number *** is experiencing a lot of static.

Numbnut at telephone services organisation I will not mention: Yes.

Cath: So, could you look into it please?

Numbnut at telephone services organisation I will not mention: Okay. May  I have your details please?

Cath: *insert rollout of all details, vomited forth, with quip at the end of “would you like a blood sample and vector diagram of my face to confirm?”

Numbnut at telephone services organisation I will not mention:  Er. What is a vector diagram?

Cath: Nevermind. Can you get this problem looked into?

Numbnut at telephone services organisation I will not mention: Yes. May I ask a question?

Cath: Sure.

Numbnut at telephone services organisation I will not mention: What is static?

Cath is unsure whether or not to stifle a giggle or laugh out loud.

Cath: Um, sorry. You work for a telephone service company and you don’t know what static is?

Numbnut at telephone services organisation I will not mention: Yes. What is this static?

Cath: Um. Tell you what. I’ll just people using that line to listen harder. It may just work out best for all of us.

*clunk*.

you have to ask yourself…

exactly when did the undead start shopping at my local Spar?

The part where I give up coffee.

Insomnia. Lack of sleep. I have it. I call it my kingsomnia because it actually rules my life.

And, yes, before you ask, this is a chronic situation. It’s not like “oh my, I didn’t get my full 8 hours last night, I need an apple” feeling.

It’s a “if I get five hours a night I am lucky” kind of situation.

And people say “you know, you should just relax”.

Yeah, sure. Have you met my life?

Anyway, this isn’t the place for whining today.

Other people say “well, why don’t you just take some sleeping tablets?”

Um, short answer is no.

You see, I refuse to take a sleeping tablet when I am the only adult in my home (and, sometimes, I wonder, if I’m the only one in my immediate vicinity of life).

So why don’t I sleep?

Simple really. I’m a chronic worrier.

I worry. About the shit you don’t even think about.

Here’s my nightly mental conversation (be warned, it’s a clusterfuck)…

Ooooh pillow finally. Wonder if I could’ve finished that before I turned off my computer. Wonder what’s happening on Twitter. Mmm. Cam didn’t tell me to tweet today. Maybe she’s not feeling well. Oh my sack. Why is she not feeling well? Maybe she had a bad day. Maybe she’s not happy. OH MY GOD MY CHILD’S NOT HAPPY.It’s because I work two jobs and don’t have enough time with her. Maybe her diet is lacking something. She eats enough fruit and vegetables. Does she? Is she really? OMG MY CHILD IS MALNOURISHED AND ITS MY FAULT. Fuck. I am a bad mom. I’ve made bad life choices. How did I get so lucky to have such a wonderful child? Is she growing up because of me, or in spite of me? Am I becoming my mother? AM.I. BECOMING.MY.MOTHER?…

*deep breaths, Cath, deep breaths*

Okay. Time to think about sleep. Sleep. Mmmm. It’s good. Is Cam sleeping? I don’t hear her. OMG I DON’T HEAR HER

*gets up, checks on Cam, who is snoring and sleeping with her legs in the air. much like my sister. genetic legs in air sleeping pattern in progress*

Okay. We’re all good. What’s next? Oh. yes. Sleep. Wait. fuck. lemme just have a smoke and calm down and then I’ll sleep.

*lights smoke. opens twitter*

Thank the stars every night, I do, for Twitter. Insomniacs of the world unite. I do love my friends.

*clicks links. @reply people. tell everyone i’m going to sleep and then don’t. heh. heads back to bed*

Okay, really now. It’s 2am. go to sleep, Cath. think about bunnies. or sheep. or whatever the hell works. Bunnysheep, maybe? Is that possible? Would they be called Baa-nnies then? Would they be hopping sheep? oh my sack. Imagine that, Hopping sheep. Cam would love that. Man I wish I could get her a pony. Would it be easier if she was growing up on a farm? Is suburban life really good for kids? Who ever said it was? Who the hell makes those decisions, anyway Have.I.Made.The.Right.Life.Choices!?

*okay. stop. think about something else. think about. well. that’s not for public consumption. think about the moment you were happiest in your life. ever*

It was raining. Heh.

*falls asleep*

***

You see, the issue isn’t that I’m not tired. Trust me, dudes, I’m tired. More tired than a hamster on that wheel, going backwards in time.

You see, the issue isn’t that I can’t sleep. Because, when I do, it’s deep and real sleep. The type that I’d write love songs about if I had the talent and it were appropriate. There are certain situations in which I am able to fall asleep very easily. None of these situations will be occurring again in the near or far future.

You see, the issue is that my actual power button does not work. My brain’s little “mute” knob has gone astray.

So, that’s why. I’m trying to remove stimulants from my life. My theory is quite simple: give up coffee. less caffeine in the system. less likely to fall asleep.

Four days in, and I’m not sleeping any better. Yet.

I’m waiting, brain. I’m waiting.

BabyIce is on his way

My friend inside the computer, and in real life, Acidicice is in labour as I type this.

Sending you big love, massive inhalations, exhalations and excited smiles at this time my friend.

I’ll never forget our tomato/omg i’m pregnant conversation by MMS. I love that we are friends that post memory sticks to each other of things that are important.

Today, I’m thinking of you, all the way.

Wish I was closer so that I could squeeze your hand.

Dear BabyIce,

I cannot wait to meet you. I can’t wait to see pictures of you and applaud when I hear you have arrived.

I cannot wait for your SuperMama and your LovingPapa to meet you.

Blessings,

Cath and Cam

the answer is..

i get asked a lot of stupid questions. often.

like, my favourite, as some of you reading this will know…

when people see my tattoos and they ask

“Gee, didn’t that hurt?”

(isn’t that like a matter of personal opinion etc. does it fucking matter to someone gawking at my arms anyway?)

I often wonder why then, when they look at Cam, they don’t ask the same question…

“Gee, didn’t that hurt?”

(i mean, hells, she came out of my vagina. think about it, dudes)

(on that note, no, my tattoos hurt a little in particular points. childbirth, on the other hand, is fucking sore)

it’s the little things that bug me sometimes.

today’s awesome one was

“oh, did you cut your hair?”

and what I really want to say is:

“oh my sack! it must’ve fallen off in my sleep! i wonder if it’s still on my pillow!”

last week’s dumb question of the week was:

“did you know your curtains were open when i drove past your house?”

(note, i was in my house at the time).

what i wanted to say was:

“oh my sack! i must have ghosts who like sunshine and they opened them! do you know the number of a good exorcist, perhaps?”

Seriously. what’s with all the dumb questions?

In fact, what’s with all the dumb people. I see dumb people. Walking around like normal people. It scares me sometimes.

So, I’ve decided, the next time i get asked a dumb question…

from now on, the answer is no, idiots, no.

look at my face. it says no. please bugger off back to planet moron. thanks.