emailing it in friday: to wrh

dear wrh,
you should totally take those awards if you want them.
and best of all?
i'm completely PLOWED right now.
jon made me a bourbon and coke that might make me grow chest hair if it doesn't kill me. not KILL ME, kill me, just, well, whatever. i'M about drunk. and it's fun. I tell you What, though, that guy had better not be trying to violate The six Weeks Of No Sex. Because then I'll be mad at him.
Anyway.
I need to go finish mah bourbons like a good girl.
xo
pd

telling my story

I'm not really here today.  

I have shared my story with Maggie (and the rest of the world) over at Violence Unsilenced.  It is a story that I have only shared with two people in my life.  I am telling about my experience because I know there are other people living the same thing, and others who are not living it any more.

And that is not okay.

Domestic violence happens to one in four women in this country.  And that statistic is based only on the  number of instances that are reported.  Those are only the ones we know about.

It is likely that someone you know and love is being hurt.  Please, say something when you see a bruise.  Ask the uncomfortable questions when your gut is clenched and telling you things are amiss.  She might be waiting for someone to show her the way.

*********
Just a note:  I'm sure there are some of you in my everyday life who are wondering why I haven't mentioned this to you before.  One reason is that it's not really something that comes up over coffee on an average Friday morning, but really, I just don't want to talk about it.  And that is my decision.  Please do not presume it has anything to do with you, because it doesn't.  

do you know me?

I know who I am, really I do, wife, mama, friend, antagonist, protagonist, teaser, instigator, cat-kicker, chef, baker, washer of clothes, doer of yard work...

I just don't always GET me.  

I'm not sure why exactly, and I don't really know how to comprehend me any better.  

I do a lot of things that I don't ever blog about.  Things that unless you know me in real life, outside of West Blogoslovakifornia, you will never know about.  Not because I especially care who knows what it is I do on a daily basis, but because I just don't see myself writing, And today I made dinner for K, and coordinated this and that... That's not why you come here.  And it's not what I want to write about.  

Except here I am, not really writing about it.

I have been taking a break from most of those extracurriculars lately, you know, the whole new baby thing and whatnot.  It's sort of hard, to be honest, because I  love to help people.  I thrive on being useful.  I'm the master, or mistress, of fitting just one more thing into my day with fluidity, never missing a beat.

High functioner.

That's what my therapist calls me, or at least he used to, when I was seeing him.  A highly sensitive, high functioning person.  I wasn't paying him money to tell me that exact bit of information; I know I am those things.  I was paying him to help me sort through quite a bit of other baggage I had acquired since birth.  But that is a whole 'nother post for a whole 'nother day.  Or not.

The Mister tells me all the time how wonderful I am, how much people appreciate me, how I make a difference in the lives of other people.  And while I know that I do all of the things I do, I can never really understand why that makes me different from other people.  Maybe that's a good thing.

I'm just living my life.  I'm not trying to be important to people, I'm not trying to earn their appreciation, I'm glad they enjoyed dinner, really I am, but seriously.  What's the big deal?  Does nobody else do anything nice for people?  Does the average person not hear the tired in a friend's voice?  Or do they hear the tired and not think about something they could do to help?

Where is this coming from?  Do you want to know?  Great.  I will tell you.  You had to imagine I would.  Someone tweeted about The Sling and Swaddle Journey, hosted by Hotslings and the people at The Miracle Blanket.  These companies are looking for 30 moms to try their product for 30 days (the month of June) and tweet and blog about their experiences.  NATURALLY I am applying for this, because I LOVELOVELOVE my Hotsling, and would love to have a new one, because really, people, you can't have enough of those things.  (I'd pick a fancy one, for the record, because I already have the basic black and basic brown cotton ones.)

Anyway.  The Selling Yourself To The Company Questions.
What one thing makes you a must-have to be one of our 30 moms?

Why will people want to follow you on Twitter?

List three adjectives that best describe you.
What is the most unique characteristic about you?

AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH.

I don't know.  What makes me a must-have?  Why do people follow me on Twitter?  Why are you people here?  Adjectives?  I know what they are, but seriously, I'M supposed to come up with adjectives for MYSELF?
 
My most unique characteristic is that I need to have my dose upped in order to answer these questions without hurting my brain.  Somehow I don't think CRAZY is the adjective they are looking for.

Can you tell I haven't applied for a job in a really long time?  Oh my WORD, people.  This shouldn't be this hard.

Ummm, hi, I'm Pamela.  Sometimes I'm funny on my blog.  Sometimes I mock people who work in the political arena, sometimes I make fun of me.  Sometimes I post pictures of my short people looking totally nutso.  I forgot to pay the company that picks up my trash last month, and now my dumpster is full, and today was garbage day.  Honestly, I have no idea how I got here or what is going on, and my husband is doing the dishes right now while I sort my crap out here on the interwebs, but you should TOTALLY PICK ME!!!  I'M AWESOME!!!  I LOVE WEARING MAH BABEHS!!!  

I have nine days to figure this out.

ink sucker

Have your children hijacked your printer?
Do you spend more on ink than groceries?
If so, you have a problem, my friend.
Check out this supersweet contest over at I Should Be Folding Laundry.

But totally don't enter, because I want to be the big WINNAH!!!!

Oh, all right.  Go ahead and enter.  It'll just make it all the more spectacular if I win.  You know, the whole, against all odds thing.

it's a monday

Wee Man and HB were fighting over the little plastic strip you peel off a frozen juice concentrate container. Shrieking. Howling. Punching. Over a piece of trash. In some people's houses, I'm sure it's a piece of recycling, but it's a Monday, and it's going in the trash.

There are tiny little men inside my skull Riverdancing on my right frontal lobe. I want them to go away. It is Monday.

HB is plugging the words Mama, Mommy, and Mom at the beginning and end of everything he says to me. Sometimes, when I'm lucky, he puts one at both the beginning and the end of each sentence. It is really a Monday.

I made some coffee. The beans we get from Equal Exchange come in a two pound bag (five in a case, $60, super deal). We're about a pound down in this bag, and as I held it in my left hand, scooping with my right because I'm terribly right-handed-only, the bag started to slip... Hello, Monday.

The boys and I hit the grocery store last night because we were out of cereal, and if we hadn't gone I'd be writing about NOTHING FOR BREAKFAST, and IT'S A MONDAY. But we did go, and for some odd reason, a ginormous lemon meringue pie found its way into my cart. It was some seriously yummy pie. But today, I can't find the other half of the pie. It has disappeared.

Freaking Monday.

The barfing flu has kicked Miss O in the shins. Well, belly. And head. We need to bust out the carpet cleaner. Damn flu. Stinky Monday.

I'm going to go drink coffee with heavy cream and fancy French bourbon sugar in my bathrobe.

For the rest of the day.

rewind. take two. let's try that again.

Me: whineblahblahblah haven't been on a date in a year blahblahblah sick kid blahblahblah The Mister is on the couch blahblahblah whine

My Mother: Sometimes it was longer than that before your father and I went on a date.

Me: Well look how well that turned out.


Hear that sound? That's the lead balloon, hitting the concrete.

fluff friday

Do you like how I make stuff up?  Like this whole Fluff Friday Thing?  I am awesome.  And that is why I am delivering you a healthy dose of blog awards and, everybody's favorite... THE MEME!!!!!  And because I am That Flavour of Awesome, I have the same meme for you TWO TIMES!  I am sure all of you at home watching are actually standing and applauding and cheering your little...

Who am I kidding?

Nobody cheers for memes.

Especially when there's two of the same one on the same blog.

Alas, it seems I suck.

Here's something that does not suck: Fancy French Bourbon Flavoured Sugar. In mah coffee. With heavy cream and not half and half. Have I ever mentioned that my MIL is good like that? Another flavour of good: going to a stupid meeting and coming home to FREE BABYSITTING!!! (knew about that before I left) and CLEAN AND FOLDED LAUNDRY!!!

I have been trying to NOT mention this, but the short people have been barfing and pooping ever-whar for a week now, thereby generating about eight loads a day. Needless to say, I have been a little swamped with the laundry.

I even put most of it away, IN DRAWERS, last night.

But this post is not about The Barf and The Laundry.

Before I get to the real point of things, though, I just wanted to say that today is the first time I've seen one of my posts on the BlogHer Ads list of posts over there on the right. It's Wednesday's post called 'bloom' and I'm not linking to myself today. But it just plain tickles me to see it there. Oh stop laughing at me. It's been a long week.

First up: THE ZOMBIE CHICKEN AWARD.


The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the Zombie Chicken - excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse.  These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie cihckens just to be able to read their inspiring words.  As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers.  Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all.

My five choices?  Five lovely ladies (smell them in the air) who would appreciate a good zombie award.
ChurchPunkMom from Embellished Truth and Polite Fiction
Jen from Blissfully Caffeinated
Jenbo from SteenkyBee
Jenny the Bloggess 
The Stiletto Mom (because she's all recovering and stuff, and needs something new to think about)

I got the Bella Award from Jess over at This Life Is Mine.  This is Jess.  Hi, Jess!  I stole this picture from her blog because I'm assuming (you know what they say about assuming, right?  it makes an ASS of U and ME?) that she'd be cool with it... 

She's so sad-looking because it took me like ninetyeleven years to post this, and she was thinking I didn't appreciate it, or that I didn't like her... or maybe she's hung over.  Who knows.  Anyway, Thanks, Jess.  The Award is for bloggers you have just discovered and really enjoy reading.  I haven't even been able to keep up with the blogs I usually read, so I'm not going to pass it on right now.  But if you have recently found a blog that you enjoy, please feel free to pass the award on.  

Anyway, to show you that non-recognition of recognition is par for the course, I offer you Exhibit A:  The Superwoman Award.



This is from my knocked-up, already-married-but-having-the-party-in-four-weeks pal Danae from Beauty In Distress.   She's lovely, and she has morning sickness, so you should stop by and tell her nice things about being pregnant.  Do NOT even go over there and tell her about being completely lame (unable to walk lame, not pathetic) for the last two months of pregnancy, or about how you were in active labour for three weeks before they stuck a massive pair of tongs up your bajingo to yank that monkey out, because I will personally come over and kick you in the teeth.  Because I'm not pregnant any more, and I can totally kick that high.  Also, I hear kickboxing is a great workout, and I need to lose that last five pounds of baby skin weight.

Exhibit B:  The Good Buddy Award, from a highly esteemed blogging colleague who will remain nameless because I'm a colossal ass and saved the jpg to my little folder and wasn't clever enough to bookmark or otherwise record the person who loves me so much.



I always wanted to be a great buddy.  Maybe I'm not... maybe you should take your award back.

Exhibit C:  Sardine Mama from Sardines in a Can gave me this award, in March.  (See, Jess?  I'm just a slacker.)  And this is what she said about me: Pamela over at the Dayton Time deserves an award because she just popped out a baby. And she is funny. She has guest bloggers this month at her popular site while she recuperates and is waited on hand and foot and stuff. Anyway, Pamela just makes me laugh. I like laughing. So I like Pamela.  Awww, shucks.  Thanks, Mama!  I like you, too!



I got this award from Ree at The Hotfessional (this week) and also ChurchPunkMom from Embellished Truth and Polite Fiction (oh I don't know, maybe two, three months ago?)  



Here are the rules for the award:  List 7 things you love (or six things that make you happy, or pick your own set of rules...) and pass the award along to seven friends whose blogs you love.

1. I love my family.
2. I love Jesus.
3. I love my house.
4. I love my French Press.
5. I love my camera.
6. I love cake.  (And Cake's pretty good, too.)
7. I love my garden.

The seven friends whose blogs I love:

1. The Mister.  Duh.
2. Jill at The Daniels Five.  Because I miss that girl, I tell you!
3. The Well-Read Hostess
4. Joce at Tillaboro Orchard
5. Styro at Speaking in CAPS (Jim's new to Blogistanifornia, and just celebrated his one month birthday.  Kind of like Elliott, but hopefully Jim uses the big boy potty.  Check him out.)
6. Jen from Coconut Belly because she and I think alike.  So if you like me?  You'll like Jen.  Also, I want to say that it's hard to type three L's all in a row.
7. Sardine Mama from Sardines in a Can