1. I absolutely hate when people put stick figure family decals . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Weekly Hate]]> I’ve been thinking a lot about the types of days that I have been having and it’s been rough out there. So I’ve decided that along with counting my blessings, some bitching is in order. So, here’s my first Weekly Hate.

1. I absolutely hate when people put stick figure family decals on their cars. Hate. What I hate even more is when they put the names of the people in the family too. Are you asking for a pedophile to come and start talking to your kids- by name? (Thanks to you)

Image borrowed from Vinyllleterdecor.com

2. I hate when people don’t park correctly in parking spaces. They park on the line, they park on a slant and they make it absolutely difficult for me to park. So, if my luck would have it, the last parking spot available is near you so I have to do all of these maneuvers to park my car. Jerk.

3. I hate when people go to McDonald’s and act like they don’t know what they want. People… the menu may change slightly from time-to-time, but trust and believe that the McDonald’s menu is the same. We humans are creatures of habit, especially when we are faced with too many choices- therefore, you know you’re gonna get the same thing you got last time you came to McDonald’s. I always get either a 2 cheeseburger meal or a Filet-O-Fish. So, my biggest question is- do I want beef or fish. If you don’t know what you want, don’t get on line! I don’t want to stand there waiting listening to you say “Uhhhhh. Ummmm.”

Back of the line fool!

Photo borrowed from Flickr

4. I hate when people are more concerned with my health than I am. The other day I posted on Facebook “Should I stop for donuts?” and really the question was related to tardiness. I was wondering “If I stop, will I be late for work?” but I have a friend who I like to call the Food Police. Every time I mention eating something that she thinks I shouldn’t be eating it becomes this big “Oh. My. God. I can’t believe that you eat that. Do you know what’s in that?” conversation.

How do I eat it? Easy. With my mouth wide open. Do I know what’s in it? No. And do I give a shit? It’s absolute goodness- that’s what’s in it. If I want to eat a fuckin’ donut or go to McDonald’s- that’s my prerogative. Mind your own damn business. You sit there and eat your Kale and your nuts and other shit like that. I’ll eat what I want to eat. It also bugs me because I believe in “everything in moderation” so I don’t eat donuts everyday. In fact, this was my first donut in a few months, but whatever, I wanted one and? I brought donuts for my co-workers (win!). Dear Food Police, you eat what you wanna eat and let everyone else eat what they wanna eat. The end.

I’ll have more hate next week. In the meantime. What are you hatin’ on this week? Let me know.

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But this man cannot make a decision.

At all.

And it drives me FUCKING insane.

On nights when I don’t make dinner, this is how the conversation goes:

Him: “What do you want for dinner?” (Clearly hungry)

Me: “It doesn’t really matter. What do you feel like?”

First, it’s the cheapest grocery store in our town.

Second, it’s my one-stop shop. No longer do I need to go to the grocery store, then go to the pharmacy, then go ____ (fill in other store here).

I can buy milk and a new . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Bad Produce]]> I really, really like shopping at WalMart.

First, it’s the cheapest grocery store in our town.

Second, it’s my one-stop shop. No longer do I need to go to the grocery store, then go to the pharmacy, then go ____ (fill in other store here).

I can buy milk and a new shower curtain liner. Cereal and ink for my printer. Bread and new pants for Pea to wear to school (because I will NOT pay more than $2 for pants she will wear to daycare and ruin!)

What I have a hard time buying at WalMart is fruit.

The oranges are in these ginormous boxes on the floor and a large majority of them are covered in mold.

The strawberries are in the cooler, but when you look in the boxes, most of the strawberries are moldy.

And this week, I wanted to buy Pea some blueberries?

Not even like some mold here or there… I think I see Chewbacca growing on the blueberries in both of those cases.

The same goes for the grapes and other produce.

I’ve told the produce manager- even brought bad fruit to them and I get an “oh, thanks, I’ll go look over there”… How can you MISS IT?!? There is hair growing on the fruit!!! It’s insane. And I know… it’s Walmart and they are packing the fruit like this is Costco or Sam’s Club so what is to be expected but rotten fruit, but still. It pisses me off because you should give a shit about your customers and your fruit aisle… at least care enough to get rid of the bad fruit. Who is this helping? Because do you really think anyone will buy it?!

I’m going to start taking a picture every time I see bad fruit at WalMart.

Just for fun…

Let’s see how many photos I get.

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I try not to, but I do feel like it’s a part of human nature to complain.

As easy as it is to say “There are children in Africa dying” or “There are people who don’t have a home” I think you need to vent your . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Count Your Blessings]]> I complain a lot. I do.

I try not to, but I do feel like it’s a part of human nature to complain.

As easy as it is to say “There are children in Africa dying” or “There are people who don’t have a home” I think you need to vent your frustrations too or you become one angry person. I think… I’m no expert.

I also think you may become one depressed person if you focus all of your energy on other people’s problems and don’t worry about your own. The troubles of the world are so great.

I think finding a good balance between bitching and complaining about my own problems and still being aware of what is going on in the world and how blessed I am is the right thing to do.

In light of that, yeah, I just had a miscarriage and that makes miscarriage number 2.

And yeah, I’m super annoyed/pissed/angry that we are having such a hard damn time having another baby.

Super pissed.

But this week, we got an email at work that one of our secretaries/Registrar had lost her grandson who was less than 1 year old. Then today I read Kim’s blog about this woman, Hope who went into early labor with twins at 21 weeks and after a battle to save the living baby (the first baby was born stillborn), the baby- named Zaria- passed away.

Yes, it sucks to have a miscarriage.

I bet, though, with all of my heart that it sucks even more to lose a child that you birthed, held in your arms, and prayed to God that s/he would survive.

Yup, that sucks even more.

In fact, it’s not fair.

Here is what Hope had to say about baby Zaria (I’ve picked out a few pieces for you):

“From the early ‘honeymoon’ week Zaria introduced us to what a strong little fighter she was. She faced chronic lung disease, grade 3 brain bleeds, and heart surgery within the first few weeks of her stay. Every time she met these obstacles we were all surprised because she didn’t want to show us any signs of her distress.

As she healed from each trauma we breathed a collective sigh of relief. We spent hours and hours at her bedside peering into a plastic womb and getting to know our littlest daughter. When possible we held her head and feet as she spread out her toes and caressed our fingertips as we sought to soothe her and her us….

After holding such strong hope for our girl through all the ‘you must give up care’-s for her from the doctors, we could not allow our minds to fathom that she had more of the disease. The surgeon finally realized that it was futile to convince us as we saw the glimmer of hope in her words of “most likely will not live”. ‘Most likely’ can’t convince two loving parents who want with all their hearts for their daughter to survive the NICU and come home with them. The doctor realized she would have to show us proof.

After an exploratory bedside surgery and a photograph of the perforated gut and decaying tissue, we finally began to swallow our hope for saving our daughter….

On Sunday morning, August 28, we realized we should let go (I couldn’t use the term ‘withdraw care’ because what mother can really withdraw care of their child?)…

I held her warm body to my bare chest and soothed her fears. She lay in Luke’s lap at sunrise by the window; and as her heart faintly beat she lightened our loads as she flew away home. We studied her beautiful face (looking much like her brother’s), stroked her reddish brown hair and held her little fingers.“

A mother’s love for her child is one that cannot be quantified, but the anguish that a mother feels when that child is lost?

Inconceivable.

The family was out of town when Hope when into pre-term labor and took a huge financial hit back home in North Carolina as they had to board their animals and break their lease to stay with their baby girl, away from home, in another hospital. There is a fund for her and really, if you can give, please do- whatever is within your means.

For some reason I can’t link directly to the Paypal donation link, but you can send donations via PayPal to: love2zaria@gmail.com OR follow the link below (that says “click here”) and click through her site to donate.

There’s a giveaway too of a variety of items. If you’re interested, click here to see what’s up for grabs.

Anyway, kiss your babies (that you have with you) and for sure always remember to take the time and count your blessings.

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I’m all about unique… I think. Cause my name is unique. You don’t meet too many Dawana’s, though they are out there. Freshman year of college . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Names]]> So as a teacher I come across some interesting names… and I often wonder what possesses people to name their children the things that they do.

I’m all about unique… I think. Cause my name is unique. You don’t meet too many Dawana’s, though they are out there. Freshman year of college I think we had like 40 million Erin’s, Ashley’s, Meghan’s and Katherine/Katie/Kate (love you ksluiter!) and other names that some would say are common.

But I think unique gets taken to the extreme when you name your kid some shit that they can’t friggin spell by First Grade. And unless you come from a culture where names with 80 thousand letters are common, why? Why do that? When people look at their class roster and have to say uh… um… and choose to use your last name to identify your child because they can’t pronounce the first name? Can’t even sound it out? Yeah… It’s too much. Maybe you should stop at 3 syllables.

There’s nothin’ wrong with common folks.

Keep. It. Simple.

But I guess people can destroy any name. I mean my last name has three letters- just three and I am CONSTANTLY being asked how to pronounce it. Seriously dude? Are you dumb? There is no trickery involved, just say it how it looks. Stop trying to complicate it.

But you know what else gets me?

When people give their child a first name that is disturbingly similar to their last name. For example:

• Michael Michaels
• Tom Thompson
• Robert Robertson
• Daniel Daniels
• Will Williams

I mean seriously? Why would you do that to your kid?

Why?

It’s not even right.

ALSO, I think it’s funny when people have two first names.

Like Ron Paul… It  just makes me giggle.

When we were pregnant, we started throwing names around and it’s tough. My husband and I have very different taste in names. Like for boys, he’s all about “Football names”… right. Have you WATCHED college football lately? You need a damn interpreter to say some of these guys’ names!

And while I think names like Emma are cute, that gets a firm no from him.

It took us for-EVER to agree on a name for Cadence. Finally, I dragged my pregnant behind with husband in tow to a book store, pulled all of the baby name books and declared that we’d sit there until we chose one. And we did.

Cadence Parker

and she’s fantastic.

Hopefully we’ll have the chance to name another child and trust me, it won’t be a Bonqueesha, but it won’t be Tom.

I’m just sayin’. Your child has to live with that name forever. Give them something they can work with.

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Literally.

Fade to black.

Like I walked out of my bathroom and thought “wow, I feel kinda tingly, that’s weird” and so I told my husband “I’m feelin’ tingly” to which he says “you should come sit down honey.”

I just knew I wouldn’t make it into the living room (which . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Fade to Black]]> Seriously.

Literally.

Fade to black.

Like I walked out of my bathroom and thought “wow, I feel kinda tingly, that’s weird” and so I told my husband “I’m feelin’ tingly” to which he says “you should come sit down honey.”

I just knew I wouldn’t make it into the living room (which is like 5 steps from the kitchen), so I turn around, place my apple juice on the counter in the kitchen and I kinda fell… It’s like my legs gave out.  My husband came and I leaned on him and I knew- this tingling feeling is so weird. My EYES were tingling. From head to toe, I tingled. And then?

Nothing.

I don’t remember.

I remember waking up, heaving twice and vomiting.

Then? More vomit.

Then I don’t know.

I remember my husband getting frustrated with the woman who answered the 911 call because she wasn’t understanding what our address was.

I remember telling him that “I just felt really sleepy” and I remember him telling me not to sleep, to try really hard to stay awake.

Sirens.

Fire Truck.

Ambulance.

About 7 men in my house fussing over me.

IV.

Questions, lots of questions.

You’re having a miscarriage?

Have you had a miscarriage before?

So this is your third pregnancy?

When did you take the Cytotec?

How long have you been bleeding?

You say you bled a lot today, how many pads did you go through? (The answer to that being like 1 pad every 10-15 minutes)

What size was the clot? How many clots?

Questions, Questions, Questions

Ambulance ride (The whole time I thought, how much is this gonna cost me?)

Hospital.

More IV fluids.

Blood draw.

Pelvic exam.

Waiting, lots of waiting.

Ultrasound.

More waiting.

Blah, blah, blah You lost a lot of blood. blah, blah, blah We did detect anemia. blah, blah, blah You may have passed out due to excessive blood loss. blah, blah, blah The loss of consciousness could have been due to the anemia. blah, blah, blah We don’t think you lost so much blood that you’d need a blood transfusion. blah, blah Call your regular OB/GYN. blah, blah Rest and lots of fluids. blah You can go home.

That was my night…

Just another day in the life.

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But no worries, there’s no racism in this country.

#Whatever.

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regression (http://definr.com/regression)

n 2: (psychiatry) a defense mechanism in which you flee from reality by assuming a more infantile state

        4: returning to a former state

You see this face:

Don’t be fooled.

This kid has lost her . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Regression]]>

regression (http://definr.com/regression)

n 2: (psychiatry) a defense mechanism in which you flee from
reality by assuming a more infantile state

        4: returning to a former state

You see this face:

Don’t be fooled.

This kid has lost her damn mind.

Like for real.

And lately? She’s been doing some 1-year old shit that is pissing me off.

Why are you regressing?

Why?

She’s pointing to things going “Mmm” “Mmm” “Mmm” instead of saying “Mommee, I peas have dat.”

and? She’s doing this weird ass whining that involves her just standing there and saying “mwaaaaa,” no tears involved, just because she feels like it.

Seriously? Cut it out. Now.

Her teacher said today “well, she’s around all these new 2-year olds coming in that don’t verbalize well and her birthday isn’t til January, so she can’t go on the list for the 3-year old room till about November.”

Awesome.

So will I be listening to her whine and not speak for the next 3 months?

Can’t friggin’ wait.

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Image borrowed from JamesPreller.com

Crayola.

What comes to mind when you hear that name/word?

Grandeur, maybe?

Crème de la crème, possibly?

Top of the motha-frickin’ line crayons.

As an Elementary School teacher I work with crayons on a regular basis. And not for coloring (because God forbid we let . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: How Crayola Ruins My Life… Day After Day]]>

Image borrowed from JamesPreller.com

Crayola.

What comes to mind when you hear that name/word?

Grandeur, maybe?

Crème de la crème, possibly?

Top of the motha-frickin’ line crayons.

As an Elementary School teacher I work with crayons on a regular basis. And not for coloring (because God forbid we let the kids just. color.) but for true academic enrichment.

Today, in summer school we were identifying certain nouns and marking them with various colors. I was nervous the second I chose to use that worksheet because children. Little 5, 6, and 7 year old children who are able to read just enough to let you know what something says can’t just color.

They can’t.

It’s so hard.

For example, if I say to you “let’s find as many verbs as possible and color the verbs red.” Easy, right?

No.

I get “Mrs. H… this isn’t red, this is “Brick Red” or “Orange Red” and I need red!

Mrs. Hhhhhhhhhh (put on your most whiny voice). This isn’t pink it’s  mulberry or salmon.

This isn’t blue it’s teal blue.

Really Crayola?

Did they miss the memo about how persnickety children are? Especially when they know that they know something?

r-e-d spells red, not b-r-i-c-k r-e-d

b-l-u-e spells blue, not t-e-a-l

Too many color options slows up learning time with people fighting/arguing/complaining about colors.

SHE WON’T LET ME BORROW THE BLUE TO COLOR THE NOUN I FOUND!!!!!!!

HE’S NOT SHARING THE YELLOW!!!!!!

Keep. It. Simple.

I’d rather parents just go to the Dollar Tree and get a cheaper box of crayons with the basic colors. Brown, not Raw Sienna. Yellow, not Sunglow. Green, not Tropical Rain Forest.

But of course, kids know the difference between Crayola and the knock-offs, it’s as crazy as if you bought them Payless shoes instead of Nike shoes. Crayola are the “real crayons” and then there’s the “other stuff.”

I? Get to say stuff like “come on now, there are so many different shades of blue, just use the Violet Blue, I don’t have time to listen to you argue with me about the shade of blue not being right” or “Okay, since you need to wait for the shade of green you want, would you like to do this at recess instead since you can’t complete it now?“

You can see the most up-to-date list of Crayola colors, with photos, on Wikipedia.

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I am going there.

Close this now if you can’t take the heat.

But ladies, what the FUCK?!

Why do we have the pleasure of not only bleeding from our vaginas once a month and pushing human life out of a small ass hole, but hold the possibility . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: On Hemorrhoids and Yeast Infections]]> Oh you read correctly.

I am going there.

Close this now if you can’t take the heat.

But ladies, what the FUCK?!

Why do we have the pleasure of not only bleeding from our vaginas once a month and pushing human life out of a small ass hole, but hold the possibility of having yeast infections and (for some of us) thanks to child birth- hemorrhoids? What is that?

Don’t talk to me about Pandora’s box or Adam & Eve and the woman’s curse/plight cause who told Adam’s dumb ass to eat the apple?

Nobody! When the fuck do men ever listen to their wives anyway?

I’ll wait…

Right, never.

So he was an idiot.

I recently told my husband that once a month, men’s balls should just burn like nobody’s fuckin business, maybe then they will get a taste of what we go through with monthly cycles, childbirth, yeast infections and other things that just seem to happen to us without control.

What the fuck is a yeast infection anyway? I’m not gonna bake anything in my crotch. And do I look like I wanna put some white creamy shit for 1, 3, or goodness forbid 7 days? Oh cause I don’t, it wasn’t on my list of things to do.

And while I’m talking about putting things in places, why is the cure for stuff like that the insertion of stuff?

For hemorrhoids you get to stick some Vaseline-like goop in your ass. Seriously? Who thought of this stuff?

I was blessed with hemorrhoids in my third trimester with Pea and they love me so much they like to show their faces from time-to-time. And when the over-the-counter stuff doesn’t work? You have to go see your doctor. Why? I don’t know.

I pay $25 to go to the doctor, have him stick his finger in my ass and go “oh yeah, those are hemorrhoids, here’s a prescrip for your steriod.” Really doc? Good job. I needed you to stick your finger in my ass for $25 to tell me something that I already knew- why couldn’t he just call in the prescription? If I wanted to be sodomized by a finger, which I don’t, I could ask my husband- he’d do it for free.

Moving on. My point? Is what do men get that is as uncomfortable and (for some) embarrassing as hemorrhoids and yeast infections?

Nothing.

What? Like jock itch?

Men scratch their balls anyway, so if you had jock itch who would know? Women can’t just walk around scratching their vag… yeah, that’s not socially acceptable.

Oh and having both a yeast infection and hemorrhoids at the same time?

Your front and back doors are all fucked up. You’re closed for business and a fuckin’ itchy, burning mess.

It’s really just some bullshit.

And I’m done.

If you think, wow- this girl is crazy. I just wanna say that I put this question out on Twitter:

and I received a number of responses telling me to write about both/all, my favorite of those being:

So true Trish. Like hemorrhoids, friends can be a pain in the ass.

I’ll blog about friends another day.

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