Thanksgiving Spies

Derek had to work on Thanksgiving so I let Rachel and Bryce go to my sister's to watch her kids for her on Friday while she went shopping. Me and the other three kids went to Cracker Barrel for lunch and had a really good lunch. We came home and did pretty much nothing the rest of the day. Played some games on the Wii. Played some games on the computer. Watched some tv. Read a little. Well Wednesday night we had gone out to eat after dropping the older two kids off at my sisters and then went on to rent movies.

Thanksgiving night I decided to watch The Ugly Truth by myself since it was rated R. I got me a big glass of water, snuggled up in my bed, and started the movie. Well that is two hours of my life that I will never get back. If you want to watch a ridiculous movie with horrible acting, bad writing, and every dating cliche in the book then this is the movie for you. However - if you have any sense whatsover and find really stupid movies annoying then you might just want to pass on this one.

I watched the movie Waitress afterwards to try to erase the bad movie from my brain. I love the movie Waitress - it is soooooooo on my top ten movie list. The three remaining kids in the house must have been getting a little stir crazy and decided to play spy. Every ten minutes or so, my bedroom door would slowly creep open and I would see my son belly crawl across the floor to the foot of my bed. I would yell at him "you aren't a very good at this - I can see you" and he would always yell back "no you can't - I am a spy". I would crack up every single time. So throughout the movie, he would come up with elaborate ways to "kill" me because I was an evil spy and a traitor. He even got his sisters in on the act and sometimes they would ambush me with their spy skills. Oh yes - I was attacked with a blow dart to the face, a machete to my legs, and a machine gun from behind my dresser.

But don't worry - my kids were not aware that I had master ninja skills and I took them all out with an orthopedic pillow and a bedspread.

Gotta Love a Sarcastic Kid

I told Beth that she needed to leave me alone for two minutes so that I could try to hear myself think (she is our talker). She went into the kitchen and set the timer. It was so funny that I couldn't even get mad.

Forks in the Flowerbed

I walked outside yesterday to yell at my children for something. Don't worry - I am sure that they deserved it and they didn't even listen to me so I doubt that it will cause considerable damage to their little souls. When I turned to go back into the house, I looked down and saw a fork laying in the flowerbed. A fork. In the flowerbed. Of course my first thought was "how the heck did that get there?". Then I remembered. Oh yeah ! I have children ! Therefore, it is not unusual to find the kitchen utensils in the flowerbeds or the bowls under their actual beds or plates in the clothes dryer.


I have simply stopped asking the question "how did that get there?", because the answer according to the children is always either "I don't know" or "it wasn't me". I have come to the conclusion that the answer to all questions asked by me or to me from now on will be, "because I have children". Why didn't you get any sleep last night? Because I have children. Why is there an empty package of gum in your purse? Because I have children. Why does your car smell like you let monkeys with gastrointestinal problems lose in there? Because I have children. Why is there a fork in the flowerbed. Because I have children. Why do you write this blog to vent out your frustations instead of drinking wine directly from the box? Because I have children.


Just wait though - as soon as those little darlings are out of the house - this chick is buying stock in some boxed wine !

Nobody Recovers from Life

I have been completely off of meds (Paxil, Ambien, blood pressure meds, hormones, and several vitamins) for a little over 26 months now. I did try to take fish oil and B6, but found that both of them caused my anxiety to go through the roof, so I stopped them. I do not take any meds, supplements, or vitamins now. I will only take an Advil for a headache if a warm bath and some meditation doesn't work first.

I will never use the word "recovered" when it comes to my Paxil use. Paxil and the combination of other meds that I was on caused such a drastic change in my personality that the whole experience will be a part of my life forever. It will be that way in some ways for all of us. We can't change the past. However, we can change our attitude about the past and work on the things that we feel are problems for us. Sure I have bad waves. Sure I have bad days. Sure I have anxiety in the morning. It might be Paxil related, but then again, it might not. A lot of it is strictly situational and when the situation doesn't change or can't change then you just have to change the way that you view the situation.

All of our situations are so different; the time that we spent on meds, what meds were originally prescribed for, the stressors in our lives, the amount of exercise we do, the foods we eat, etc., etc. Comparing my situation to somebody else's will just get me nowhere. I am on my own path and nobody else can walk it for me. I did a pretty slow wean (faster than some, slower than some) and it worked out pretty well for me.

I don't know that I consider myself "recovered" or ever will. Does anybody ever "recover" from life? However, I can say that the majority of the withdrawal symptoms have gone away and that I am seriously working on the thought processes that cause me anxiety or depression. That is why I post (on the forum) the "weekly challenge". It is things that I see that I need to work on to make my life and the lives of my family members better. I could sit arond all day long dwelling on the horrible things that happened to me, but I don't. It wouldn't serve any purpose at all. I know, because I used to do just that. I discovered that the more I sit around and dwell on the bad stuff, the worse I feel. It's like digging a hole of depression - the more I dig, the bigger the hole gets and the harder it is to claw my way back out of it. It is a mind set. You have to change the way you think or nothing else will change. If you believe that you are permanently damaged by the meds and that things will never get better then for you that might just be the case. You have to believe that you will get better. I believe that every single day is a gift in this world and for the sake of myself and my family - I refuse to dig the depression hole. Sometimes I find myself picking up the shovel and starting to dig, but then quickly stop myself and move on with the day. If I believed that I was destined to be depressed, then I would be.

I do not believe for a second that any of us are permanently damaged by these meds. I believe that the road to getting better is long and it is hard. I believe that if we have a negative attitude, then we are going to feel worse and I believe that we have to seriously work on the mental health issues that made us turn to meds in the first place. I believe that every life has a purpose and that my life might have been changed by meds forever, but I choose every single day whether or not it was changed for the better or the worse.

The Adventures of Wasp Woman

The kids were already at the park last night when I got home from work, so Derek and I decided that we would go walking at the park too (served the purpose of getting some exercise, spending time talking to each other, and checking up on what our kids were really doing at the park). I changed out of my work clothes into sweats and a t-shirt and we got in the van. I know. I know. It's hard to believe that somebody as hip and cool as I am could possibly be driving a mini-van. Alas - it is true ! I am the owner of a mini-van. But don't worry - it is completely tricked out with the cheapest possible interior, bits of Cheetos on every seat, and some smell that we haven't identified yet.

About a block away from our house, I start hearing buzzing. Loud buzzing. That dude from the chainsaw movie chasing me with a chainsaw buzzing. Whatever it was was in my hair. I have a ton of hair so I am sure that it was lost and couldn't find it's way back out. Poor wittle fella. He picked a bad day to forget his compass and map. So naturally, when unknown critters are stuck in your hair - you reach your hand up there to grab it. Not a smart move. It was a move right up there with the chick in the horror movie going back to save her cat. Not a smart move.

Long story short (I know - too late) - I got stung by the biggest wasp ever ! He was so big that other bugs were riding on little saddles on his back. He was big and he was angry ! I leaned my head down and he flew over on Derek who promptly screamed "don't throw it on me". Ah my hero !!! Was it wrong of me to hope that the wasp stung him right on the top of his big, bald head? I didn't think so. So Derek rolled down the van window and the little bastard flew out (the wasp, not Derek).

My hand is now partially numb yet hurts like hell and I have this bizarre fear that I am going to end up like poor Peter Parker. Never fear - Wasp Woman is here !!!

It's Not Vegas .... Not Even Close

For four years in a row, the hubby and I went to Vegas for vacation - one time we even took the kids. Luckily, I was doped out of my mind then and don't really remember whether or not it was a horrible experience. Actually, I was doped out of my mind for all of our Vegas trips so we could have been mugged by giant sub sandwich eating gorillas and I wouldn't have even known it. The point that I am trying to make here is that we really did have a good time on those trips to Vegas (or I think that we did), but because of my Paxil, Ambien, and alcohol withdrawal (plus some other horrific issues) - we haven't been to Vegas in three years now. We really really really want to go back but really really really can't afford it right now. So Derek has decided that we will just go to one of the local casinos on Saturday and that will be "good enough". Well let me tell you ... it is not the same.

First of all - one of the things that I absolutely love about Vegas is that if you want nachos at 3 a.m. then there is some place that has an all night nacho bar and you can get your fill of cheesy chips. I also love that nobody and I mean NOBODY looks at you strangely if you are walking down the street at midnight in your pajamas with a four foot tall drink strapped to your neck. I also love that you can gamble, drink, party, drink, vomit, drink, and drink twenty four hours a day. I really don't drink much now that I am pretty much a recovering alcoholic (another lovely Paxil side effect), but just the thought that I could do it all damn day long is very appealing to me. Plus drunk people are funny. Drunk people playing slot machines are even funnier. Drunk Elvis playing slot machines is even funnier than that.

The local casinos do NOT offer the all night nacho bar. They do NOT have drinks so large that they give you another person to help you carry it. They do NOT let you walk around in your pajamas (tough lesson learned there). They are just not the same. Sure they have the same games and you can lose your money just as fast, but the whole experience is different. Derek thinks that we are going to go on Saturday but I told him "honey - it would just be quicker if we walked up to the door, opened it and threw two hundred bucks in, asked the security guard to kick you in the nuts and then we just leave. It would make us feel about the same in the end. Well I would be laughing about you getting kicked in the nuts, but after that it would be the same feeling."