I lost my marbles so I borrowed some from my bartender

This is NOT Louis.

My title makes sense I swear to Chocolate it will make sense.

My mother decided to take me out for drinks on Black Friday with our favorite bartender who now works at a place where drinks are so expensive, we plan our trips and look forward to it. It's one of those restaurants local doctors and hoity toity's brag about going to because they are so outrageously priced for the area (not that bad for New York City).

Anyway, the bartender, Louis, has been a favorite. Not only can he make the best martinis, ones I can actually drink without it being too sweet or too alcoholly, but he's like therapy. I call him my therapist. One who has no license and we do hug and kiss, so ethics is kind of out the window too on that. Really we do. I tell the husband. He's stuck with it. We don't make out. We just greet each other with a big hug and a good smack on the lips. People in Europe do that.

Last night, we get there, and Louis talked a lot about his real therapist. He has PTSD like I do. We've talked about it before, and this therapist is a good one. Actually, I've not gone to therapy for my PTSD because the therapeutic choice of all choices is to ask you a bunch of questions about the trauamatic incident making you relive it over and over again, and that made my PTSD worse, not better. I think I have PTSD from the therapy of my PTSD because seeing a shrink makes me all kinds of I want to throw up. This therapist, however, does not use that therapy. That, I would go to.

At some point in the conversation, Louis hands me 2 marbles from his pocket. He said that one marble is, "Everything is going to be ok," and the other marble is, "I'm going to be all right." Put them in your pocket and you'll be amazed how many times you reach in your pocket and can feel these marbles reminding yourself that everything is going to be ok and you are going to be all right.

Well, being female, I don't have a pocket most of the time, and if I do, well let's just say i frequently find 20 dollars I have no idea where it came from last year in a pocket... My purse is also a bad idea. It hoards pieces of chocolate and what nots that I wouldn't tell the difference between a gumball and a marble while fishing for that cell phone. But my wallet, now I go into that baby too many times a day. So, that's where I'm keeping my marbles. My wallet.

Now I don't think Louis is aware that I actually lost my marbles and went to the farm. That totally gives this an angelic God appeal to it, like the Lord, He works in mysterious ways. Louis followed his instinct and it was exactly what I needed when I needed it.

And to make it more special, the marbles were made by Louis's father. He made marbles for a living.

So this black friday, I'm thankful for marbles. I'm thankful for awesome bartenders too. I left that bar with a good buzz from a good martini (my mom was driving) and some replacement marbles. Now their prices don't seem that extreme afterall.

Post Mother's Day Anti-Depression

http://www.inkcinct.com.au/

I've read a lot of charming blogs about Mothers Day. I saw a lot of Facebook posts of moms getting breakfast in bed, bubbles baths to read their favorite book, beautiful pics of visiting a grandma or something... Here's my secret. I hate Mother's Day. It ranks up there with Valentine's Day. It's a limp dick. A holiday designed to give you orgasmic level expectations to leave you sitting frustrated and disappointed because there just isn't enough blood pumping in the right place at the right time leaving you with a useless sack of sperm to play with making you go "completely nuts." And you can't be pissed because you love the impotent person enough to not hurt their feelings. So when I see pictures of women enjoying a bubble bath (no nudity duh), I want to diabolically throw glitter all over them and their perfectly clean bathroom to truly make them sparkle. Nothing personal. Just jealousy.

My mother's day was not a good day for the most part. I don't think it was my negativity that did me in. I actually started off the day positive.

• I tried to write and didn't get to because I was servicing my kids (not feeding them, but things like getting them that thing that is 2 feet in front of them and breaking up fist fights) too frequent to focus or be creative. 
• Then Mother Nature gave me her Mother's Day present (the monthly uterine wrecking ball), and of course, I'm out of all my hygiene products... 
• Why do I sometimes call my oldest kid Hercules? Let me see your 6 year old daughter rip out a RECLINING sectional piece of the sofa to the middle of the floor and flip it, and tear out a piece of drywall for fun. 
• What goes better with eggs than a heaping cup of Baking Soda? Accidentally dumping baking soda on your frying dozen eggs while looking for the missing baking powder for pancakes, now that's the priceless shit Mastercard can't buy. So basically, everyone had sandwiches, everyone except me of course because not enough bread. 
• Then at the brink of passing out from hunger, I got a Big Mac (my mother's day breakfast lunch and dinner) on my way to my mom's house devouring it while driving and handing kids stuff, meaning I just drove like a drunken crazy person, while listening to the wonderful music of my children screaming, squealing (horror movie scream) and fighting. 
• Drama like Jerry Springer on TNT ensued at mom's house... over me not getting my nephew I was watching home fast enough because that would be my responsibility. And why was it so important? They were planning to take him to his dad's mom's house. Yes, if you are 10 minutes late for that, the apocalypse would definitely begin. Ironically, he was going to be on time, but everybody had to dig their own grave and blame me, why not? It's my fault because I chose to have my children. 
• Then I took all 3 kids to Dairy Queen by myself, and then devoured 2 slices of different cakes I couldn't taste thanks to the cold (like dieting suicide right there).

Mind you too, I endured that day with a migraine, the period, a swollen ankle that I supposedly sprained 2 months ago but obviously did a little more damage than that, and i can't prove it because the 3 trips to the doctor's office over it were all about how it's normal for an ankle to still be swollen. I was also tired since I accidentally took my kid's antihistamine aiming for my Tussin. And I have the snot monster cold, meaning my throat hurts, I'm coughing every 5 seconds like death, and I have green ooze coming out of my nose.

In addition, a few days ago, and I hate to admit this on a blog, but I will because I think some people can sadly empathize to an extent... I was damn near suicidal. The only thing to stop me was the fact that I didn't have a babysitter for it. Here's a list of my current goals to explain...

1. Divorce-- more expensive than getting married. Just like a wedding, requires a shit ton of planning. I do hope to be the most beautiful anti-bride on that big day. I think my colors are going to be Funeral Black and Mistress Red. If I could just get the date planned. The husband doesn't seem to care when it happens, like the sooner the better. I mean we are in anti-love, young anti-love. But, we just don't want to rush it since that would mean getting 2 big houses furnished for the kids...

2. Do my resume-- I know this sounds like an item on a to do list, but for me in my world, it's a long term goal. Why? Because I do everything with my children, so it takes about a thousand times longer to accomplish something. But I do kind of need an income if I plan on being a single mom. I'm a little old to actually get paid for hooking or any other "worst case scenario" solutions I had going for the last decade.

3. Write a book-- Face it. Nobody wants to hire a mom who has been out of work for so long. This is my back up plan. I was thinking of telling the story about my in laws and the possible Santeria curse, except I'm going to label the book fiction because I don't think anyone will believe me that it's a true story, plus i can deny being a part of it. This way, my inlaws can fund the divorce (usually the anti-bride's family pays for such events, usually because most of the gifts are for the anti-bride like 17 different blenders or is that weddings?).

4. Clean the house--- I keep saying this for years. I really do want to have a clean house. Some day I suppose I will get it. Until then, I'll just keep cleaning and cleaning and cleaning. In case you missed it, I have 3 children under the age of 7, and one is hyperactive high functioning autism. Did you read the part about the sofa?

5. Beat up the demon--- He might be a hallucination. He might be the Santeria Curse. He might be an actual demon who has been in this house disguising himself as a little boy for the last 3 years and is the cause of things like the constant mess and the divorce. Negativity spawns negativity. I did try burning sage. Made it worse. Holy water helps though, so that's what has me thinking it might not be a chronic sleep deprived hallucination. Either way, I beat it up once, but since it fucks with me every time I try to sleep, I really would like to kill the little bugger. He will be in the book if I ever get to write it.

6. Get a new car--- All 3 cars are in the shop. Two of them are totally done for. Nothing like a car payment before getting divorced.

7. Clean myself up from addiction--- I'm addicted to Motrin. Actually NSAIDS in general. I take at least 400 mg a day up to the 1600 mg limit. Why? If my ankle doesn't hurt from tripping over that pebble months ago running to a crying kid diving into a mud puddle (I might of did a flip without a high dive), then it's my knees. See, I'm double jointed, and now I'm old, and they don't make WD40 for people. Only tin men in Oz get that kind of medical care. But then, there's the children induced migraines. It's not just me. They give other people migraines too.

I am honestly getting to a point where I just don't want to do it anymore. I'm sick of cleaning a mess that gets dirty the instant I clean it. I'm sick of taking care of everyone else because I'm totally neglecting myself, and nobody will let me take care of myself. Not at all. Not just my children, but also the husband, my family, my friends... I'm being consumed by people. I don't know how to make it stop. It's like I'm in a black hole, and I struggle and struggle just to prolong the sucking into the abyss thinking I'm close to getting out but no where near it.

Then Mother's Day Miracle (if you use your imagination)... I'm talking to my mother on the phone after the day decided to shut the fuck up for us...

When my mother was in college and dating her first husband, he was working down the street from her mom's house. She borrowed his car for school. So they met up every day at my grandmother's house at noon for lunch. My grandmother, every day, made them a nice lunch. My mother said, at that time, she didn't realize how special that was for my grandmother to do for them. She didn't realize how much work it was.

But this story cleared up a misconception I had. My grandmother was an alcoholic. She died Christmas of 1998 from liver failure. I was under the impression that grandma started drinking at motherhood. I mean the woman had 7 kids, couldn't drive (no license), and was poor. Her part time jobs, she walked to them. I just assumed that sucked so bad she had to drink. But my mother informed me her alcoholism started after the kids grew up and moved out. She was so depressed when she had nobody to take care of that she really enjoyed those little things like making lunch for my mom and her boyfriend every day.

My mom swore to me that I may not see this now... When I was my kids' age, she couldn't wait for me to grow up too. But some day, I will feel that same pain my grandmother felt, and my mother felt. That pain of boredom. The pain of figuring shit out and getting into the groove of the chaos with the kids for it to totally fucking disappear and leave me bored.

Because I score high on the IQ test for the visioning things part, you know, taking a 2D object and making it 3D in my head... I can see that. I can almost feel that. I can imagine my house empty, void of the chaos my children bring, and that is truly depressing... That future just gave me clarity that I desperately needed.

My grandmother used to say, "Life is great, as long as we don't weaken." 

Now how's that for supermom? Who else can nurse her granddaughter through a very trying time in her life from the grave? My grandma. Badass. And through who? My momma, BadAss Junior. All so that BadAss the third can get her groove on.

For reference, my Mother's Day Facebook Statuses...

This one, the first one, I made the extra attempt at being perky and positive.

Happy Mother's Day to all the women out there, whether you have kids or not, because I think if you don't have kids, celebrating this day anyway is the only way you will get to celebrate this day with all the shit implied with this day. A day to yourself. To get a break. To relax. The only way you get to do that as mom is to celebrate this day BEFORE you become a mom. So Happy Mother's Day to all you people who have a uterus. To all you moms out there, if your things you married and your spawns let you have some time to yourself, you should totally thank them with some home cooked meal tomorrow or next week. So far, we'll be ordering pizza. And to everyone who is all "this is the day we appreciate moms for their hard work," Fuck You. You should do that every day you dirty bastard.

and then

Well today royally sucked. It sucked, swallowed, and then spat what was swallowed. This day was just a dirty whore.
I wrote it all out about the day. It's long. Like 2000 words long. I'm so tempted to post it somewhere public for all those involved.

Let me remind family members something. I blog. I blog about my life. While I currently blog anonymous, that is soon about to change. Maybe if I blogged these adventures I experience in Jerry Springer Wonderland, maybe people would actually start acting in a way that wouldn't embarrass themselves if they read about it on the internet. Seriously, if all of you are so righteous, then it shouldn't bother anyone for me to tell the world should it?

and then

AND in the future, I love children. I don't mind babysitting other people's children. BUT I am overwhelmed. Most of you this refers to can't possibly understand that with your simple easy lives full of people doing most of your work for you, but that doesn't change the fact that YOUR KID IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. If you want YOUR kid home to YOUR HOUSE at a certain time, then YOU need to get YOUR HAPPY ASS over here and pick up YOUR kid. If you want me to drive YOUR kid anywhere with my 3 kids to get them home for any reason, you are on MY SCHEDULE. That same situation is now in effect for my mother as well. You are not entitled to favors. AND you could be a little more appreciative of them as well.

Mommy's Cup of Sanity

So I made up a recipe for Circle of Moms because I liked the assignment. They asked to create and upload an original recipe that described your blog. I knew it had to have coffee and booze in it. Chocolate. Cake batter because I like to eat cake batter like it's pudding. Diet Coke and Michael Jackson. Lots of nonsense that in the end makes sense or awesome. Humor. Cheesecake because Golden Girls, and you know, this was definitely worth posting my super secret awesome Bavarian Cream Cheesecake Recipe I got from a dream. Like what better way to introduce the world to that? I'm really amazed nobody has come up with it already.

So I created Mommy's Cup of Sanity. 

Well, it made a Cookbook thing. Unfortunately, I didn't notice the email until the day after it was featured, but anywho... It was featured because it's awesome, or because they ran out of options for features.... Maybe they were drinking the rum the recipe calls for the day they featured it. That COULD happen you know. People do stuff like that all the time, drink booze and make decisions they later regretted... If that's the case, my recipe could have also inspired girl on girl action, office strip teases, and other amazing things.

From the link... (where I entered this recipe)...

Chocolate Cake doused in spiced rum and coffee topped with Bavarian Cream Cheesecake. The Bavarian Cream Cheesecake filling/frosting was a recipe I got from a very nice and humble Italian couple who owned a bakery in the 1700s maybe, if you believe in past lives. If not, it came from imaginary friends. I had this recurring dream about an Italian Bakery, and I got to a point where I started craving whatever they used in the cream fillings and frostings, but I couldn't find anything like it in real life. Finally, one dream, during PMS, I asked them for the recipe, and they gave it to me. Genius. Sheer genius. Bavarian Cream Cheesecake. It's more brilliant than Ben Franklin. If you are allergic to nuts, the only nut in this recipe is the blogger who wrote it.

Ingredients

• 1 Box of Devil's Food Chocolate Cake mix plus ingredients required to mix it according to package instructions
• A shot of Spiced Rum (it's okay to think about Johnny Depp right now)
• Two shots of the wake me up so I can get through my day medicine (coffee, brewed)
• 6 to 8 Bavarian Cream Long Johns (or 1/2 cup of Bavarian Cream)
• 4 oz of Mascarpone Cheese
• 1/2 cup Powdered Sugar (Confectioner's or Icing sugar)
• Tub of your child's favorite Frosting for Chocolate Cake
• Optional Ingredients:
• Pirouline Cookie
• Cinnamon
• Cocoa
• Diet Coke (to hydrate while you bake, it's hard work like that)
• Michael Jackson's Thriller Album (background music)

 
 
 
 
 

(Rated by 0 moms)

PREP TIME	5 Min	READY IN	35 Min
COOK TIME	30 Min	SERVINGS	2

MEAL/COURSE Dessert

TYPE OF DISH Cakes and Cookies

SEASON/OCCASION Mother's Day

COOKING METHOD Oven

DIETARY NOTES Comfort Food

Preparation

1. Mix the chocolate cake as directed and bake in two 8 inch round pans.
2. While baking, first take a moment to lick the bowl
3. Hand wash said bowl.
4. If you got donuts, slice them in half and spoon out 1/2 cup's worth of Bavarian Cream into clean bowl. (seriously, what's the difference between this and peeling apples?); otherwise, place 1/2 cup of Bavarian Cream into the bowl.
5. Check on your kids if you have them.
6. Add 4 oz of Mascarpone Cheese and the 1/2 cup of powdered sugar to the bowl and mix.
7. Taste the epic flavor of the Bavarian Cream Cheesecake Frosting (if you lick the spoon and keep using it, that's adding the ingredient of love, and some germs, but it's for yourself so go for it)
8. Dance to your background music while cleaning up odd ends of the kitchen, check your laundry, watch some Lifetime, whatever until your chocolate cake is done and cooled.
9. Grab two coffee cups. Cut up chunks of one of the 8 inch cakes and put the chunks into your coffee cups filling your cups up to about 1/2 to 3/4 of the way up. Give the rest to the kids including the spouse like samples. Don't forget to mention that you really needed those even though you didn't.
10. Drop a shot of the coffee and half a shot of the rum on top of the cake in the first mug, and repeat with the second mug.
11. Take a shot of rum if you are allowed, and maybe drop it like it's hot and flash your husband because woo hoo rum.
12. Spoon half the frosting on one mug, and repeat for the other.
13. Sprinkle cocoa and cinnamon on top of the mugs and add a Pirouline cookie if you wish.
14. Grab the other 8 inch cake. Cover with the frosting tub you purchased for it for the kids including the spouse, or maybe give it to your neighbor, or eat it later... Just make sure to act like you made it specifically for the person you gave it to, as if you had no ulterior coffee rum Bavarian Cream awesome motive.
15. Now enjoy your cup of sanity courtesy of Dribbles and Grits. Perfect for internet mommy blog reading, book reading, movie watching time out for moms.

Happy Pills for all the Assholes! Make it happen!

So yesterday, I had a horrific migraine most of the day. I suffered through it at the kids' school Valentine's Day Party (that's suffrage people), but once the kids were laying down... I had plans to hang with a friend last night, so I couldn't over medicate. I really swore this migraine was tension related, even if most of them anymore are not, and I was tense. I tried to make the husband rub my back and all it did was make his hands hurt.

So I took half of a Flexeril, muscle relaxer. Now these usually make me loopy, like imagine if the blond from all the dumb blond jokes were real and dyed her hair brown, that would be me on muscle relaxers. But they killed the migraine within 20 minutes, and every time I'm in a lot of pain like that and it goes away that fast, I get a buzz from that alone. The epidural gave me a huge buzz because we are talking a huge pain that just went away. Aleve will sometimes give me a buzz if my period cramps are bad enough. It's one of those buzzes that's like being high as a kite mixed with having a couple drinks. I just become one fucking happy bitch, like a severe case of the happy and wonderfuls.

One thing I swear all that did to me last night... I would almost swear everyone was on drugs, at least the nice people were.

Before heading over to my friend's house, I had some other errands to run. I took that muscle relaxer, went to BP (for the blue zombie drinks) and talked to a girl who I would swear was high. I go to Walmart (diapers and beer), and I talked to a woman who was suffering from MOM, but I think she was on some sort of prescribed happy pill or antianxiety med. Then I talked to a dude who was definitely on some sort of speed, like energy drinks, diet pills and cocaine. Like he didn't have the attention span to listen to himself finish what he was saying. Regardless, all those people were the nicest people.

Then I left my wallet at the counter because I do stuff like that with a pain be gone buzz, so some guy chases me out the door screaming at me to give me back my wallet, and he stopped me right next to these people socializing at Walmart because that's where you go to mingle. It was a cluster of women, the ones who inspired that guy to write the "you think you're cooler than me" song, high maintenance, low IQ... If they were moms, they'd be June Cleavers because they think they are cooler than me. The one dude in that group was looking at me like I was on crack "you forgot your wallet?" and I smiled and was like, "Migraine." He smiled and nodded like, "Awww," like he totally got it. The girls then looked at me like I was Satan walking in their church. How dare I speak to their really cool super awesome guy (who I think might of had a couple drinks), and one said something nasty that I totally ignored as I walked off, and all I could think was, "I bet they'd be nicer if they were medicated. Like we should make it law to force assholes into taking happy pills."

I really think I'm on to something, like a cure for asshattery.

On a more serious note, ladies... Why would a man surrounded by "beautiful" women ignore them to pay attention to the girl in black pants and a dark blue MedExpress t-shirt with a black leopard print jacket? My hair was crazy too, and I had makeup under my eyes. Why? Because women need to understand, you can't cover ugly with make-up and fashion. If your personality is the reason people created words like cunt, and a guy is with you at all, he probably cheats on you to get a break from you. I mean really, if the best thing you have to offer people about yourself is what anyone can buy from a cheap whore, you have nothing to offer. That is why men with women like that stop to pay attention to women like me. It's because I'm not an asshole. Men, while they really do like boobs and ass, deep down inside, they like women who are confident. I don't have to tear people down to make myself appear taller.