The People Who Choose To Love Me

The People Who Choose To Love Me
This is my family. Watermark and all.

Thursday, June 30, 2016

Pooping Alone

I have been gone from Blogger for a long while. I thought maybe I'd try my hand at writing again today since all of my four children are farmed out to various family members. Writing is a lot like riding a bike. Only I can forget how to do it. So, let's give it a shot.

I think the reason why I haven't written anything in so long is because I haven't had anything nice to say and I am a firm believer in taking life advice from talking animals in Disney cartoons.

Just kidding. I talk crap about people all the time. But, I've been trying to get better about saying things that are kind, true, and don't perpetuate a ton of negative gossip because we are all beings made of stardust and soul energy and ain't nobody got time for that bull-ish.

I have been doing a lot of meditating and soul searching and trying to become the best possible version of a human being that I can with the given tools at hand. I will list the tools I have that make me feel like being a better person is possible.

1. My Attitude
2. Will Power
3. Coffee
4. Alcohol
5. Pasta
6. Silence
7. Sleep

Maybe a few of those things aren't really tools to become a transcendental being but, fuck it, we're only human once, right?? YOHO!!!!!

Wow, I just realized that pirates really had their shit figured out.

Yo. Ho.

Meditation is amazing. After about ten minutes of meditating I feel like a whole new person. Well, after ten minutes of meditating if the kids aren't around. When it is silent and I am able to breathe and focus on my breathing and let go of negative thoughts and emotions, meditation is blissful and helps me throughout my entire day be a calmer, more patient person. Meditation while the kids are home is a completely different experience. Here's an example of kid-free meditation:

Peaceful, right?

And, here is an example of trying to meditate while a three year old is within fifty feet of you:

The beginning of my meditation with kids around. 
It's ok. I'll find balance. Just keep breathing...

What is happening in the other room the entire time 
I am trying to center myself and focus on my breathing.

The place I wish I could go to just to get away
from screaming children. I could really see myself getting into
a good trance atop a serene hill of garbage. 

Sometimes I try to sneak off while naps are being taken for a quick breather but it's like my kids have radar that pings every time I want to pee, poop, read, relax, or have sex. I read once that kids can sense when their mother is being intimate and they instinctively cry to prevent competition from a potential future sibling. So far, I feel like I have a pretty good grasp on ignoring their cries for only-childhood since I have reproduced four times, but then that's four times the crying to try and prevent me from further reproduction. 

Don't worry kids, mommy can't have any more babies. Now let me have my damn adult time!! 

I have two kid free weeks starting today, and although it is weird, and a little sad when I want a tiny hug when they are all gone, I have a much different attitude than I have when the kiddos have been away from me before. You may have read my tales of loneliness in blogs of my kid-free past.

Disregard them. I am going to sleep in, meditate, poop all by myself, and eat ice cream for breakfast right out in the open instead of hiding in my closet like a fucking animal for the next two glorious weeks.

Thursday, February 25, 2016

My Name Is Shawna, And I Am A Trash Digger.

Ok, so, I don't really "dig" for trash, but I do pick it up off the streets when I go on walks or from the playgrounds of parks when I take my kids there to play. Trash is irritating to me. I mean, honestly, how many seconds of a person's precious time does it take to throw a bottle into the trash instead of on the ground?

I have channeled my hatred for litter into art recently, much to my husband and children's chagrin.  Our house is literally overflowing with all of my stupid crafty, Pinteresty, cluttery crap already and now I am adding actual trash (and not even our own trash) to the mess.

My husband and I went to a swap meet for our anniversary and I saw all kinds of crafty stuff for sale at ridiculous prices. All of it was stuff I could make myself so I decided to combine my love for DIY with other people's trash and try my hand at selling it.

My newest creation. I call it "Trash Rainbow" for lack of titling abilities.

This one is a little more random, but I still like it. 

I am almost positive my kids probably think I am the weirdest lady in all of existence without the aid of my new found hobbies. I used to go to places where we lived in California and pick of glass from the shores of artisans and lakes that we took our kids to because no kid needs to slice their foot open while trying to have fun in a public swimming area but drunk people are dicks sometimes and smash their bottles all over. 

I remember being a teenager and thinking my actions had no consequences so I won't be mad about it forever, but it still grinds my gears.

This was made out of the glass of a million jerk wads.

I decided to update my Etsy and see if I get any bites so I can supply my crack craft habit and continue immortalizing other humans' garbage. Here's the link if you want to check out my little shop or share it with someone who might appreciate it. My husband will hate you forever for encouraging me, but I will kiss you on the mouth.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Parental Prose

I wrote this a while back and since I have fourteen loads of laundry to do today I am going to recycle a post.

I hear the faint, soothing, tinkling of piano keys, one of the chickens in the yard getting restless for breakfast, and a yawning dog. I rise from my bed, all the way at the back of the house, ready for a new day. I crack my door and the sounds of morning become more in focus, much louder, and much more of an incentive to go burrow deep, back into the electric blanket I have abandoned.

As I make my way down the hallway, soft piano notes become pounding fists of pure, tortured toddler soul, pummeling it's pain out onto the unassuming black and white keys. The two older girls are in a heated debate  over who gets the torn, teal sweatshirt today. The baby is awakened.

I pour my first cup of coffee. Things will be better soon, I reassure myself. I lift my favorite mug to my lips to take a sip and...

The dog jumps up, greeting me enthusiastically, to get things rolling properly, knocking my mug into my lap. Steaming hot coffee is gathering within the creases of my pajama pants, the rest rolling over the tops of my thighs into the brown-for-a-reason fabric of my couch. My voice crackles as I utter my first word for the day, an ode to excrement.

A barrage of questions sweep over me as I am trying in vain to find another clean pair of pants, anywhere, in our cramped home. All that my hands come up with are kid clothes and the remains of whatever the dog gnawed on while I was blissfully sleeping. It is a surreal scene and I feel like I sometimes do in a bad dream where I am looking for anything to use as a weapon against a dangerous foe and my searching provides me with a single serving cup of sugar free gelatin.

"I'm huuuuunnnngrrrry...," escapes the lips of these miniature martyrs in unison. All four of them look up at me with wide and savage stares. They watch my every move. I am staring back at them, making the choice between appeasing them or indulging in an actual first cup of black coffee. I'd chew the grounds out of the day old filter at this point for just a fraction of clarity.

I make an executive decision. I pull old fashioned oats and four bowls out of the cupboard and I set four spoons next to the bowls. I grumble something like, "Hi, Hungry. Nice to meet you," and I plot my escape route with my coffee in hand. I am stealthy in my sleep deprivation and manage to get out onto the porch before the realization, and eventual wave of disappointed groans, falls over the feral gathering in the kitchen.

I sit and take a sip. The sunlight slips over the mountain tops and shines over the slick rim of my mug, as if the gods are smiling on my caffeine addiction. I am in awe. In this brief, wondrous moment I am aware of the silenced complaints from coddled children. I take another glorious sip. And another. And another. It must be my lucky day.

I managed the unthinkable. I was allowed four piping hot sips before my assistance, removing tiny hands off of another child's tiny neck, was required from inside.

After saving a couple lives and providing suitable sustenance, I slip back outside onto the porch and seriously consider buying a lottery ticket.

Monday, January 25, 2016

Take This Job... And Shove It Up A Stockholder

Until recently, I worked for a corporate restaurant. What this meant was, I was not a person to anyone other than the people who were actually working alongside me. I was a number on a shareholder's ticker, and I was a robot who is expected to bring extra ranch to people who think it is acceptable to scream at me for their under cooked sirloin or not giving them enough ice in their drink (this actually happened, I'm not over exaggerating).

I walked into work the other day prepared to give my two week notice for several reasons and the straw that broke the camel's back was my manager (who is a super great guy, nothing against him) telling me that my numbers were the worst in the restaurant. My numbers come from a survey the customers take at the table after their meal is finished and the questions asked are about the  cleanliness of the restaurant, the speed and attentiveness of their server, how their food was, their overall experience, and if they intend to return. My schedule is written based on these questions. I was given 30 days to clean up my act (like I can predict how many ice cubes someone needs in their iced tea or jump in the back and cook their steak for them) or else I'd be fired or demoted, and in the middle of my manager's spiel about how I need to improve and that the reason he hired me was because I had such an amazing reference from the family restaurant I worked for before moving out here, I just kind of felt like I was trapped in the scene in Office Space and I didn't have enough flair and this job definitely wasn't for me.

Well, I can only assume my reference was amazing from the family owned restaurant because they weren't focusing on numbers on a printed out sheet, and they actually gave a crap about the people behind their profits. They took the time to get to know me, they invited me to their family's Christmas celebrations. They asked how my kids were every single day. By the way, if you ever find yourself in Bishop, California, stop by and eat a great meal at Astorga's Mexican Restaurant. They rock. And, if you happen to find yourself in a corporate chain restaurant that rhymes with Millie's, leave your waitress a good tip even if she seems bitchy because they don't get paid shit to be there.

Anyway, I quit, and then I freaked out. How am I going to pay bills? How are we going to survive while I'm in school full time? And then, my amazing diamond skulled bestie/neighbor told me I have a job waiting for me at her salon when I get all finished up with school and I sold a bunch of my artwork and things just sort of evened out magically. I really feel like I've found a career that I can be happy with. Finally.

I'll be able to make my own hours, interact with people all day long who appreciate my creative side, and have enough time and energy on the side to focus on my artwork. I urge anyone who feels stuck at their corporate suck hole of a job to quit if you feel like vomiting every time you wake up and know your name is on the schedule. The stress and worry over whether some fat shareholder is getting paid enough from your franchise isn't worth it in the slightest.

Find what makes you happy. Find your Astorga's. Do what makes you want to sing. Dance in the rain. Chase rainbows. A bunch of other inspirational shit. Blah, blah, blah. Just don't be fucking miserable for a handful of peanuts.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

Not Missing The P Anymore

The old laptop that I was using to blog with ended up having an unfortunate accident with my coffee one morning which resulted in the loss of the letter "P" from my writing unless I wanted to ctrl+c a from something else.

My dad had an extra laptop (that had an unfortunate accident with a Budweiser) that he said we could have. The only catch is, instead of missing letters, we get a few bonus letters and through the course of this entry I have learned we get bonus symbols, too! 

Whenever I type an N, I end up with an extra H, and whenever I type a B, I end up with an extra G, and vice versa. Here's what I have written this morning looks like without editing:

Tnhe old laptop tnhat I was usinhbg to bglobg witnh enhded up nhavinhbg anh unhfortuanhate accidenht witnh my coffee onhe mornhinhbg wnhicnh resulted inh tnhe loss of tnhe letter +"P+" from my writinhbg unhless I wanhted to ctrl+"c a P from sometnhinhbg else.

My dad nhad anh extra laptop (tnhat nhad anh unhfortunhate accidenht witnh a BGudweiser) tnhat nhe said we could nhave. Tnhe onhly catcnh is, inhstead of missinhbg letters, we bget a few bgonhus letters anhd tnhroubgnh tnhe course of tnhis enhtry I nhave learnhed we bget bgonhus symbgols, too!

Wnhenhever I type anh NH, I enhd up witnh anh extra NH, anhd wnhenhever I type inh a BG, I enhd up witnh anh extra BG, anhd vice versa. NHere,s wnhat I nhave writtenh tnhis mornhinhbg looks like witnhout editinhbg:

Just pretenhd tnhe piece of macnhinhery inh tnhis picture is all of tnhe laptops I='ve ever ownhed.

So, I guess I have learned two things here. That not having a P isn't as annoying as having extra B's and G's, and my clumsiness might be from my dad's side.

So, I bguess I nhave learnhed two tnhinhbgs nhere. Tnhat nhot nhavinhbg a P isnh='t as anhnhoyinhbg as nhavinhbg extra BG='s anhd BG='s, anhd my clumsinhess mibgnht bge from my dad='s side.

Friday, January 1, 2016

The Electric Champagne New Year's Test

We rang in the new year with a round of tasing each other's butts and arms, thanks to my brother who gifted me a taser gun last year for Christmas. Thanks, bro! This is also how my husband and I celebrated after we got married last year. Come to think about it, it's how we celebrate almost everything.

My neighbor/soul mate/diamond skulled bestie (here is my previous post about her if you have not read it yet) brought over some sham-PAG-knee-ya and although it looks and smells delicious, I have learned my lesson in years past with that rat poison dressed up like Brad Pitt and I did not partake.

Diamond Skull also brought over a game for the kids (but I really wanted to play and now I'm going to buy all of the supplies to create this game every chance I can). She bought about a hundred small trinkets and pieces of candy and EIGHT ROLLS OF CELLOPHANE TO WRAP THEM ALL UP IN. We also got a little creative and threw in a few empty candy wrappers and an old, flattened out cereal box to keep the kids on their toes as they tried to unravel the ball and retrieve treats. Each kid gets ten seconds to unravel the ball and they get to keep whatever treats fall off of it in their turn.

It was sort of like this, but filled with a billion items, and ten times bigger. There were suckers, chocolates, yo-yos, Frozen action figures, glow in the dark skeleton hands, those fart-in-a-can putty things, grow-in-water zombies, decks of cards, and a football. We also played circus music in the background as the kids unraveled it. It was perfect.

This year I have resolved not to make any resolutions because I am terrible at committing to them and then feel like crap for never following through. I think keeping up with the same blog for almost six months is a milestone so I'll just try to maintain focus on that and finish up nail tech school. I feel very at ease with what this new year will bring. Last year was filled with so much uncertainty and change and I'm hoping that everything will simmer down and smooth out this year and we will start feeling some sort of semblance of balance.

Happy New Year to all of my readers!! Tell me about what you did for your New Year celebration below!!

Thursday, December 31, 2015

Don't Bother Reading This

Wow, it's been awhile... Where do I start?  I have zero time to sleep or eat or breathe right now between life and school and work and all the funny in my entire body has been drained via my soul being sucked out of my sleep deprived body. The End.

Just kidding. Although, I don't have much to write about right now. So, just kidding about just kidding. I'll have to come back to this another day.