League of Legends – The new DotA

So anyways, League of Legends.  For all those that were fans of Warcraft 3 and the DotA map… this is an amazing game.  And guess what?  It’s FREE.  That’s right.  Free.  And it’s not a shitty free, it’s an AMAZING free.

Http://www.leagueoflegends.com  Check it out, because it’s great. 

The picture above is my favorite champion to use.  Twisted Fate.  And he’s great.  He HURTS.  And Oh how we love him for it.  Oh yes.

My second favorite is Tristana, because she’s an elf with a cannon, and it' makes me giggle inside.

Making a Quilt – The trauma begins

So that’s the pattern.  Right now, I’m working on the middle, the complicated stuff.  When I get done with that, then I will add the … ah… border look.

Why am I doing this?  For my daughter of course.  Though she isn’t aware of that yet.  All she knows is mommy is sewing again. 

But the sewing is therapeutic, and helps me get over the bad part of the day.  So really… can anyone say anything?  I hope not. 

Amazing Music

By far, this is one of the most beautiful soundtracks I have ever heard.  This soundtrack blows the soundtrack of Gladiator or 300 right out of the water.

The emotional depth coming from Adam Skorupa is simply astounding.  Even inside of the game, the music is still outstanding, and I believe whole heartedly that it is why the game was so astounding.  Each note seems to fall into just the right situation, dragging the player into an immersive world where choices make or break the game.

You don’t just play Geralt… you ARE Geralt, as emotionally wound into the story as you would be if you truly were there. 

The music is a journey, and it is one that I recommend EVERYONE listen to.

Returning from the Void

Talk about hectic lifestyles.  The last two months are… a blur.  I’m not quite sure how I managed to get everything done that I did, but somehow, it’s done.

On to other updates.

Yesterday, I had Windjammer come out to fix my internet, because the thing has been… odd lately.  Apparently, the line for broadband had over seven staples in it. SEVEN.  And the wiring below the floor was BAD juju. 

So they fixed it all.  And WHEW, does my internet speed!  I’m rather happy about that.  :)

I also got a new piece of clothing.  A corset.  And it’s beautiful.  And makes me feel sexy.

And damn… I have forgotten what else I was going to say.  Ah well.  I’m alive!

Fuck You Too

yeah, it's one of those days. THOSE days.
You know, where supposed friends stab you in the back? That's called the Three of Swords, by the way. Nicely drawn card.

Where other friends stumble over themselves, tossing excuse after excuse for why they can't spare thirty seconds of time a month to say hi.

And two of your supposedly closest local buddies completely space out, and then don't give a flying shit, about your birthday. Where they can't send a text, or a call, or a voicemail... nothing. They don't give a damn.

Call them on it. And what happens? ONE claims that he will try to fix it. We'll see. And the other says "She'll get over it."
Excuse me? I'll WHAT?

You don't know me very well buddy. I'd get over it, perhaps, if this were 4 months ago. I'd get over it if you were fucking capable of saying sorry once in a while. I'd even get over it if you were capable of looking beyond the edge of your nose for fifteen seconds.
But you're not, so I won't.

I can say that if you were here, right now? I'd knock your teeth in and make you swallow them. THEN I'd get over it. I'd get over it just fine.

You wonder why people are willing to hurt you? Because. Of. That. Fucking. Bullshit.

That's why. Because you wouldn't know how to be a good friend if someone printed out the lesson plan and nailed it to your brain. THAT'S why. You're a selfish, no good, self-centered, egotistical bastard.

And I hope you choke on it. Because when you need people the most, they'll have figured it out, and you'll be alone and unwanted. And guess what? Part of me will be laughing. AT you. Not with you, you. Go to hell.

 

P.S.  Don’t worry, none of you that actually bother to read this are the subject of this particular “fuck you”.  But I needed to rant, and rave… and now that I’m feeling a little more drained, maybe, just maybe, I can sleep tonight.  Doubtful… but it could happen.

Hard at Work

So today I was busy putting one of my binders together.  All of my notes on herbalism, meditations, things of that nature.

And I realized… wow.  I have managed to build up a lot of that.  I don’t think a 1 inch binder is going to contain it all.  And it got me to wondering… when exactly did I really manage to store it all?

I’ve been collecting random fun stuff on my computer for a few years now, but it recently occurred to me that having it in a binder would be more beneficial, at least for when I am in my room and not near my computer.

 

Not to mention it is FAR more portable for when I go to a friend’s house.

 

It also made me realize just how far I have come.  It is true that my life is chaos right now, and yet my solid foundation of spirituality makes it… bearable. 

When the children drive me mad, I close my eyes, I breathe.  I remember that which I believe.  And then I am able to continue onwards, even if only for a little while.

That is a precious thing.  And it is that very precious nature that makes me begin to understand, just the tiniest bit, the mindset behind an evangelical fanatic.  If I truly believed that the only way someone could go to heaven and not some horrible hell when they die was to follow my faith… I too might become pushy, desperate, and rude.

It doesn’t mean I forgive them for those attitudes… I still think they should just learn to leave us all alone when we make it clear that they cannot change our minds.  But at least I am finally beginning to understand their so-called ‘logic’.

On the growing of children and loss of sanity

So, on the 3rd of June, 2010, at approximately 2030 (830 pm for you civvies) my daughter lost her very first tooth.  All on her own.  I was inordinately proud let me tell you.  She came running out, buck naked from her bath, and went “Mommy mommy I lost my tooth see!”

It was a wonderful moment.

Of course then it took 3 hours for her to go to sleep because she wanted to try to CATCH the tooth fairy.  Does anyone have any idea how hard it is for the tooth fairy to sneak into a bedroom and leave 2 dollars in quarters while that girl keeps waking up at the slightest sound!?  I was ducking, weaving, hiding behind mountains of toys in an effort to reach her bed.

Booby traps, I kid you not.

But, after thirty minutes of trying… I got those two dollars under her pillow.  And the joy this morning!  The glow in her eyes as she talked about how much money she got for being brave and taking her own tooth out!  It was totally worth it.

Still… that does little to assuage the anger and frustration I get at finding yet MORE of the mess she made earlier this week.  Let me recap!

1.)  Baby Powder… everywhere.

2.) Diaper Rash Ointment… everywhere.

3.) My stick of deodorant… cut up and EVERYWHERE.

 

How she did all this?  I am not quite sure.  But I do know that it’s getting ridiculous, and so help me, my head is going to go flying off intot he cosmos while I flop into the middle of my living room (albeit the trashed living room, thank you baby Tristan) and cry great big pathetic tears of horror.

Cue the Imperial Death March

The Emperor, or in this case, my baby boy… is coming.  FAST.  I kid you not, he’s a zoomer.  It’s absolutely heart breaking how quickly this boy is growing up.  It seems like only yesterday that he was a sleepy newborn, wanting nothing more than to eat, sleep, and poo.

Now he wants to eat, sleep, poo, and wreak havoc.  There’s no other word for it.  Today I have been run ragged trying to keep him from getting into things.  I went to the bathroom and came back to find him trying to tip over the trash can.  After moving him from the trashcan, he went straight for the computer.  After moving him from the computer, he went straight for the wires buried behind the tv.

And when I say RUN… I mean run.

Zoom Zoom Baby

 

Yeah.  THAT is how fast he is.  Absolutely crazy.  And now he’s trying to walk along the side of the couch.  I think that by the time he goes to sleep tonight, I may just curl up in a corner and pass out myself.

Gaming Is Therapy

Now, I don’t expect everyone to believe that.  But it is true.  Especially for myself.  Sometimes I wonder if I’m worse than all the other mothers out there.  Having a 5 year old girl (who thinks she is the Emperess or the Queen, given the day) and an 8 month old boy (who believes it is his life mission to yank out the hair of every moving being nearby) is proving quite the challenge.

There are days when I wonder why I haven’t given in and checked myself into a mental hospital.  And then I remember that by the time it occurs to me, the children are usually asleep and I’ve regained some of my lost brain cells from the dungeon that is my daughter’s room.

Not even joking, which is sad.  If you saw what that girl does on a regular basis… Maybe I’ll upload pictures one of these days.  Tangent alert!  She found a bottle of her brother’s baby powder the other day.

Do you know what a girl her age can do with baby powder?  HORROR.  That’s what she can do.  I’m STILL trying to get all the baby powder off some of the floors… and she got it on the cat litter step mat.  Yep.

PLUS, the corner of her room is now white.  Impressive.  I have a budding artist.

Moving on.  Losing my mind, that’s right.  So during the day, when the baby screams for attention or bangs his head on something yet again, and my daughter chooses JUST the wrong time to start asking for things… that’s when I lose my marbles.  I start to feel my blood pressure rise, and my heart accelerate, and the only thing keeping me from doing something stupid is the fact that I know somewhere, deep inside, I love those rascals.

And then comes bedtime.  The angels open up the gate of heaven, and I hear the heavenly hallelujahs… and I proceed to open a computer game and beat something into a bloody pulp.

Violent, I know.  But oddly, I feel so much better releasing my pent up Single-Stay-At-Home-Mother rage out on other people via the Internet.  In the Beta of StarCraft 2, for instance.  I get to watch buildings explode, blood splatter, and if I’m going against a Zerg player, I can listen to the squelchy explosions of buildings or units erupting into piles of goo.

Good stuff.

Dragon Age Origins.  Need I say more?  Violence, betrayal, near-rape, etc… Suddenly my life seems so much more peaceful compared to the horrors that my character goes through.

And I often console myself, thinking that I cannot possibly be the only mother out there that uses these violent tools as therapy. 

Can I?

Safety vs Rights

Perhaps I think too much. I'd be the first to admit that I can over analyze at times, but I still treasure that about myself. It is only through such processes that I discover where I stand on many issues.

One of those issues is this. What are the rights or expectations of a person whose house is raided by SWAT?

Obviously, they can expect to not be shot so long as they don't resist. But what else? Does their property have a reasonable right to little damages being caused? Do their dogs have the right to continue living? Does their child have the right to be at school or somewhere else when SWAT does finally perform the raid?

Some of this seems like a no brainer. SWAT might break down a door, but they shouldn't be running through the house and intentionally breaking glass windows/doors or knocking over the china cabinet if you are not resisting. They shouldn't be shooting the dogs if the dogs aren't trying to bite them.

And yet, constantly, we read about this very behavior. Worse, this behavior is carried out in front of our children. "So what" some say. They say that criminals bring it on themselves. That drug dealers are notorious for having attack dogs, and that shooting the dogs to prevent attacks is justified.

So what? How many times do the police in general have bad intel? LOTS of times.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/07/30/AR2008073003299.html?
And I quote :

Calvo said yesterday that he did not know how the drugs wound up on his doorstep. He works part time as the mayor and serves as director of expansion for the SEED Foundation, a well-known national nonprofit group that runs urban public boarding schools.

"My government blew through my doors and killed my dogs," Calvo said. "They thought we were drug dealers, and we were treated as such. I don't think they really ever considered that we weren't."

Calvo described a chaotic scene, in which he -- wearing only underwear and socks -- and his mother-in-law were handcuffed and interrogated for hours. They were surrounded by the dogs' carcasses and pools of the dogs' blood, Calvo said.

Calvo is the MAYOR of that district. And yet he still lost his dogs, and he was still treated poorly. From other reports, the police were apparently harassing his elderly mother in law. Not only did they do all this, but one of those dogs was shot WHILE RUNNING AWAY from the noise.

Yeah, that must be an aggressive dog!

Adventures in Sewing Machines

Let us say that sewing a renaissance dress is a little more complicated than I thought it would be. I mean, I knew it wouldn't be EASY by any means... but I didn't expect it to be an exercise in frustration. I have no idea how people do it without a helper, because hot damn. Even with one of my best friends (who is so much better at it than me) doing most of the actual sewing, it was still one of the more agitating things I've ever done. It did, however, turn out quite nice.

So, despite the frustration... my next projects are as follows.

Making a larger fleece blanket for the kids. This will be easy, as it is just one bit of fleece with some ribbon for the edges. Easy peasy.

Making a black velvet cloak. It's going to be awful. I can FEEL it. But it will come out awesome. (It better, anyways.)

Someday I will be good at this, I swear it.

Of Clubbing, Dancing, and other Foolishness

Maybe I'm a strange woman, but there is one thing I do that I know is normal. I dance. I don't just dance, i DANCE. I own the floor, whether people like it or not. And I'm cool with that. Dancing is one of those amazing things that makes me go "ah, I am still attractive. The general male population... and maybe some girls... thinks I'm attractive. Yesssss."

Ok Internet, feel free to point and laugh.

So a friend had a birthday yesterday. And being as smart as I am, I thought 'well, this should be fun. I haven't been clubbing in ages." We were smart though. We went to this wonderful brazilian grill first. Tucano's. AMAZING. Holy shit, I can't even describe how amazing they were.

Afterwards, we drop the car off at the hotel, and walk our little butts over to the club. And we dance. And dance. And dance. And drink drink drink.

1 Mike's, 2 spider bites, 1 penny drop, 1 buttery nipple, and 1 red headed slut later... try walking a straight line. I dare you. And when my DD for beef jerky got pulled over?

The cop looks at me and goes "Ma'am, have you been drinking?"
"Ohhhhh yesssss."
"Can I see your ID?"
"Really? I still look that young? You GOT it baby!"

Abortion and Rights... GAH

I have had some wonderful debates lately. And all of them center around two words. Reproductive Rights.

It's a hot issue. On a logical level, I can't really understand why. But on an emotional one? I get it. Abortion. The big bad. The BIG issue with so many people. You see it all the time. Innocent children being murdered! Sluts not keeping their legs closed and using it as birth control! Blah blah blah.

And it doesn't seem to matter what you say to those people. In some cases, they don't even care if you were raped or not. They don't care if it could kill you to carry to viability. The fact of the matter is, they place that fetus above you. You are nothing, just a vessel to carry that "innocent child".

Never mind that it doesn't have higher brain function until what, around 20 weeks? Never mind that the earliest a fetus has shown a pain response is 23 weeks. If someone thinks a child is alive at conception, FINE. Believe that. But stop pushing your agendas, and your beliefs, down my throat. Stop trying to tell me that I have to risk my health, my body, and my mental health for YOUR idealogy.

And this concept that men should be able to keep a woman from aborting? PUH-LEASE. What they seem to forget is that it is a two way street. If you want the father to be able to keep the mum from aborting, then what is to keep him from MAKING her get an abortion? If you allow one, then you have to allow the other.

And they just don't see that. ON PURPOSE. It's downright odd. Downright shameful. Humanity is downright stupid at times.

/end rant

A Sad Day

Today... there is no picture. Because today, I am shocked and appalled at the behavior of some so-called "adults" in California. This is the link to what I am speaking of.

http://www.nclrights.org/site/PageServer?pagename=issue_caseDocket_Greene_v_County_of_Sonoma_et_al

And now I shall pull out some quotes for you.

"Clay and his partner of 20 years, Harold, lived in California. Clay and Harold made diligent efforts to protect their legal rights, and had their legal paperwork in place—wills, powers of attorney, and medical directives, all naming each other. Harold was 88 years old and in frail medical condition, but still living at home with Clay, 77, who was in good health.

One evening, Harold fell down the front steps of their home and was taken to the hospital. Based on their medical directives alone, Clay should have been consulted in Harold’s care from the first moment. Tragically, county and health care workers instead refused to allow Clay to see Harold in the hospital. The county then ultimately went one step further by isolating the couple from each other, placing the men in separate nursing homes."

Does this seem American? Does this seem DECENT to anyone? That two people who truly love each other are not only denied visitation rights, but then ISOLATED during the last few precious months? Does that seem at all right?

How can those people sleep at night? How can they DARE to judge anyone to such an extent?

It is cruel of me... but I hope they all get shot in the knees. TWICE.

Dogs Dogs Dogs

My English Mastiff, Hercules and my son.

It occurred to me today that I am a dog lover. Actually, I'm an animal lover in general, but I truly do love dogs. I LOVE DOGS. There, I have made it abundantly clear.

In recent weeks, there has been article after article about dog attacks. Mostly pitbulls. And I find myself growing increasingly angry. Not at the dogs, but at the people and owners around them.

A healthy and stable dog, regardless of breed, does not hurt people. And a dog cannot be healthy and stable without a good pack leader. Being that pack leader requires the ability to be patient, calm, assertive, and disciplined. More and more, I find that people are lacking in this.

And then they wonder why dogs go nuts.

Pitbulls are NOT an evil breed. They are not any more likely to 'go bad' than a rottie, or a mastiff, or a pomeranian. It is the OWNERS, and the people around them, that teach them whether violence is alright or not. It is the way they are treated that makes them liable to bite.

And the reason I can say this will all certainty? This man below. Cesar and his recently deceased dog, Daddy.

Daddy and Cesar Millan

Daddy is the kind of dog that I would trust with my kids every day, all day. He was kind, he was caring, and he was able to be calm around even unstable dogs. To give the energy needed to calm others down.

He was a rare dog in that he was fortunate enough to have a pack leader, an owner, that cared not only about feeding and watering, but truly giving him what he needed!

So when I read about how pitbulls are evil and breed specific laws are necessary, I cry inside. For every bad pitbull out there, there are hundreds that are amazing family dogs. For every story of a mauling or an attack, there are hundreds of that breed which have never in all their lives shown aggression. Breed specific laws do not work.

If we make it illegal to have a pitbull in a state... guess what? That state will see more statistics on other dogs. Labradors, Mastiffs, Pomeranians, Dachschunds. More breeds of dogs will step up to take the spotlight.

The problem is not the dog. It is people.

Daddy and a newcomer to Cesar's pack, Junior.

REST IN PEACE, DADDY.

Baths and Showers

What is this? We're going to talk about baths and showers today? Mom, don't you realize that's a private thing? You know, personal?

I do, actually. Which is why there are no BATH pictures up here. SEE!? All you internet folks that like to judge parents? IT'S G RATED. SO THERE!

You see, I was reading CNN today, and they were talking about child video clips that go viral on Youtube. A lot of folks were going on about how that was bad for the kids, and yada yada yada.
But someone brought up a good point.
Do you remember a little over 10 years ago? You know, when DVD's weren't too popular yet, but America's Funniest Home Videos was AWESOME?

Why didn't we hear all this hub-bub about child endangerment then? Why didn't we see people screaming about how parents were using their kids to get famous THEN? You know, when people were trying to win prizes for EMBARRASSING clips about their kids? I still remember seeing people do REALLY stupid stuff. And you know what? It was all in good fun. There was very little judgement in that at all.

But now that it is on the Internet? OH NOES.

Moving on. Baths. Yes.

I had to give the baby a bath today. A baby with eczema. WOO. He loves the tub, don't get me wrong. But I HATE how his skin gets after bathtime. I can lather him up in lotion, and he still feels scaly. How it doesn't bother him, I'll never know.

What I do know is that he has the most awesome hairdos ever after bathtime. I do know that he loves getting soaped up. He loves getting his hair washed. He loves to try to splash water at my face.

And the pain of bathtime is all worth it when he smiles and laughs. I can look at that little chubby face and see pure joy.

Total mom moment. I have them too.

Vaccinations and Spaghetti

It is entirely possible that the key to happiness is spaghetti and meatballs. I can hear it now. There are going to be some hardcore folks out there saying "He can't possibly be eating that already." OH yes, my little chubby man can definitely eat it. If it's mashed up, he can eat it. And he WILL. He chews (although technically it's gumming to death, but you get the picture), he swallows. And the next day, he poops.

He also doesn't take it easy on food. This boy gets very uppity about being fed at just the right pace. He's been known to eat until there is no more food... and then he glares. Because you know, it's all my fault that the food is gone. I should be telling the food makers to put more in those damned jars. I should be making it myself!

I don't altogether disagree with that last bit, by the way.

But as I was saying. Spaghetti. Meatballs. Happiness. Keys. Yes! The reason I say all this is because of vaccinations. You know, those things you get through sharp pointy objects? The ones that have been known to make me fall flat on my face?

Tristan was a month late, of course, since we went on vacation in March. He was fine with getting naked. He was fine with his genitals being manhandled by the doctor who was making sure that the testicles were alright. He was fine with getting poked, and prodded. But good god, those shots.

I have never heard him cry that loud in my life. Not only did he cry, and scream, but he let loose those big fat tears that make you feel like the ultimate piece of scum on this planet.

On went the bandages, and off we went. By the time we got home, he was out cold. AND STILL SNIFFLING. But I give him mad props. As soon as I picked him up after the shots, he cut off mid cry. And sniffled. He played up the miserable act, and me being the sucker of a mom that I am, I ate it up. Coo coo baby. Coo coo.

Naturally, upon waking this little buddha of mine decided he was hungry. And he was hungry NOW damnit. A bottle got fed... and that wasn't enough. So into the bebe pod he went. On went the tray and the bib. And then he proceeded to eat. And eat. And eat.

I dread the day when he actually eats real solid food. My grocery bills are going to go from bad... to nightmarish. Still.. look at that face. Totally worth it.

Irritation Agitation Stipulation Wha?

As you all can probably imagine, the above was a little irritating. No, not painful. I'm serious. It really wasn't that painful. Except in two places, but over all, I was able to sleep through the whole thing. And that day, I felt GREAT. I was on an Endorphin high.

Enter the next day. Eh, a little stiff, but not bad. And it stayed that way for a few days.

But as of last night? As of April 13th 2010? I wanted to go mad. Talk about ITCHING. Good god! I'd catch myself reaching back, and sit on my hands. I went to bed, and found myself trying to rub against the pillows to relieve it.

And this morning? It's STILL THERE. GAH!

Moving on.

In other news, we took the baby to get his check up today. Never fear, the happy buddha baby is in perfect health. His development is "perfect". His growth is "perfect."
As in, he now weighs 19.6 lbs, and is 27.5 inches long.

This is after being born at 6.11 lbs, and 22.5 inches long. 7 months, and he's HUGE.

It could be worse, I suppose. He could be obese. Because according to some insurance companies, babies who gain weight too fast are obese. I KID YOU NOT. Jeesh. As if we don't have enough trouble in the world, now we need insurance companies saying whether a baby grows too fast!

Reality check, anyone?

Beginning the Translations

I am fairly new to this whole... blogging thing. But it occured to me, after reading multiple blogs across the web, that a blog could be fairly therapeutic. Allowing a person to spew out thoughts and daily events? Without worrying that the internet itself will go "Shut up Erica, you know nothing! NOTHING!!!"

Ahem. Moving on.

It is entirely possible that I have lost my mind. I'm sure that all mothers have lost their minds at some point. I know that I couldn't possibly be as crazy as some others, right? RIGHT? Right. My craziness didn't actually start until my daughter was turning five. FIVE. I survived FIVE YEARS with my sanity relatively intact. That has to be a record.

But the tipping point? Two words. Medical-Retirement. Yep. You see, up until November 23rd of 2009, I had a full time job. A job that could make me work anywhere from 40 hours a week to 80+. It was hectic, it was hair-grabbingly insane at times... but it was a job. It gave me a break from husband and child.

And then... oooh boy. September 16 2009, Baby #2 arrives. He's gorgeous. He's adorable. But it does NOT change the fact that this makes TWO children. While I'm alone... because TADA, the military has sent my husband to Korea. Ooooh the possibilities. And in November, TADA... I'm medically retired due to BAD asthma.

I thought "Gee, this shouldn't be so bad." And then BAM. No sleep. Just me. No sleep again. Just me again. WOW, I didn't realize that going to the store could take over an hour just to LEAVE THE EFFIN HOUSE.

/ end hyperventilation

But you know what? Despite the craziness, and how freakin complicated it is? I am actually... le gasp... beginning to enjoy myself. There was something I missed while working full time. I missed the day to day developments. I missed raising my child the way I wanted her raised... and now I have a second chance. I can begin to imprint my knowledge (when my brain works) upon my children, and know that everything they are is because of MY influence. The Good, the Bad, and the Embarrassing.

Because there isn't quite anything so embarrassing as your five year old daughter hollering at passers-by in the mall "My mommy feeds my baby brother from her BOOBS."

Thanks Bree-ball.