Why You Should Pick Your Battles (aka Don't Fight With Bricks)

I hope this post finds everyone well.

So let's chat about Friday night...

We had our best friends over. Normally that would mean a great, serious injury free, night. Well, those stupid bricks had other plans. This is the story of how four little bricks can ruin your life. Okay, maybe I'm being dramatic. But they have ruined my whole week! Little a-holes.

So, the night is going exceptionally well. Brad and I kept my bestie's two youngest children and we were tired, but despite that, once K & C came to get their kids, we stayed up to play a card game.

Hilarity ensued and we were having a great time. Then I needed to take a potty break. I walk inside, handle my biz-ness, grab a sweatshirt, and walk my little (and by little I mean kinda big) behind outside.

Then it happened.

WHAM.

I went down like a ton of bricks. It was a very confusing time for me. I wasn't exactly sure what had happened. One minute I was walking out of the door, and the next I am laying on my side, sprawled out on the concrete. (I am using the word "sprawled"loosely here, but it's more entertaining if I say "sprawled.")

K immediately bursts into laughter. What are best friends for? And then men rushed to help me up, as gentlemen do. In my dazed state, I ask what happened. They (without laughing) inform me that the bricks have fallen off the step. Well crap.

Upon standing, I realize I am gravely injured. I took the heaviest blow to my knees. Particularly my left knee. Blood is squirting. Okay, it really was more like slightly pooling than squirting, but blood is blood. Being the tough cookie I am, I try to laugh it off, but I know it's bad. Brad got to play doctor with his stolen medical supplies (a story for another day) so he was pretty happy. Not something I found very attractive. And that was that. Let the healing begin.

It's been five whole days, and I swear my knee is worse. I am convinced I have picked up some strange infection that you can only get from concrete in an open wound. My body aches and just moving my leg hurts. This could just be the road rash, and let this be a lesson to everyone about why you shouldn't google anything EVER. Nothing good at all comes from googling injuries. Especially weird concrete infections. K knows this. And now that I think of it, -K-, I would like you to know that I would at least make sure you weren't going to need an amputation before I went into hysterical laughter. Just saying, maybe I'm the better friend. ;p

But anyway. Here is a picture of the evil bricks. (Notice the bloodstained, flesh eating bacteria carrying concrete in front):




Well, the bricks mock me once more. You are unable to see the concrete.

And here is my (once beautiful) knee five days later:





Lovely, huh? You can almost hear the bricks laughing from here.

So if I still have your attention, watch your step. You never know when psycho bricks and concrete will attack. I imagine they have been plotting this attack for some time.

(Note: No, I do not have any flesh eating bacterial disease that i am aware of and most likely, my left leg will NOT have to be amputated. Just thought in case any of you cared enough to be worried, you should know.)

(Note about the above note: But I stand firm about the google thing. I still may actually end up having to get it amputated. ;) )

Happy Daddy's Day!

I sometimes think this of my own children. ;p

It has been a pretty chillax week. My sweet little Emmett turned 6 months old. *sniffle sniffle*





Such a big boy! Now if I could just get Taylor to stop trying to wrestle him. Sheesh.

So it's about to be Father's Day. Tomorrow for all you people who forgot. I can't help but think about two people close to me who recently lost their daddies. One of which, this will be her first Father's Day without hers. If you still have your daddy, never take him for granted!!

Tonight my dad made fish. I was ridiculed for at least an hour by him because I wanted to bake mine instead of frying it like the rest was. Apparently I am "un-American." Whatevs pops. I also was "wasting" aluminum foil. My dad, being the engineer that he is, thought that my way of encasing the fish in foil was not correct and made me a nice little basket out of foil for me to cook the fish in. I tried explaining that I didn't need that, and this basket would require me "wasting" more foil because I would have to put a piece over the top of said basket. He then informed me, "Yeah, well that's the point of the basket. You put another piece on top to enclose the fish."

...huh? I'm wasting foil but you want me to use another piece to put on top? Ohhh myyyy gaaawd. He can be so exhausting, but I lovers him. ;p

And my baked fish was delicious, just so you know. AND I dismantled the basket and went back to my own method and everything was JUST fine. But I did get to hear about it for another 30 minutes. *shrug*






I wish everyone the best Father's Day possible and thank you Brad for being such an amazing, attentive daddy. Our children couldn't ask for a better dad and we are so lucky to have you in our lives! Thank you for loving me enough to pick me to be their mama.





(Ugh. I hate that beard.)


Just a thought to leave you guys with:





Until next time!

Location:Linden St,Trussville,United States

Let's Have Some Real Talk...

So. Here's the schpill. Yes, I just made that a word, deal with it. Has anyone ever been a victim? Like...had something completely horrible and undeserved happen to you that changed your whole life in a second? Well, I have. Recently as a matter of fact.


How do you move on? What is the standard procedure to get back to normalcy?


Lately, it seems like a struggle to do even the very basic basic every day things. Just functioning is barely manageable. I can't go a single day without spontaneously bursting into tears. I could be completely fine one minute, then be in tears in about .05 seconds. I feel crazy all of the time.


Does time really heal, or is that something that people just say to make their pain manageable?


Don't even get me started about leaving the house. If I even leave at all since my "incident", I almost immediately have a small anxiety attack. Things that used to never bother me send me completely over the edge these days. It's hard to tell why, but I think my patience is so thin because I am working SO hard every minute of every day to keep myself together that I can't handle anything else being thrown at me.


I know it isn't healthy for my kids to see me break down occasionally, but I have no idea how not too. Even tonight, I am sitting on the porch of our beach condo, looking out at the beautiful bay on this gorgeous night, and I am on the verge of an anxiety attack because I am sitting out here alone. But sitting inside with everyone is almost worse because I feel like everyone feels differently about me since the truth came out. So....sit outside - alone and scared- or go inside and feel weird around my loved ones? Coin toss? I'd rather cry alone.


My life has changed forever. I need to accept it and know that this is my new reality. But fuck....I didn't deserve this new reality and I am just so angry. I was happy!! Everything was falling into place and in one split second, all of that was stolen from me. I think anger is a completely acceptable reaction, it's the severe anxiety and other things I worry about.

My mother in law recently made a very inappropriate comment about how my actions are affecting the development of my kids right now. Can I get a big fuck you please?? You get sexually assaulted and then you can talk to me about my actions. I really had no intention of bringing her into this blog post, but it just sort of came out so I'm going to roll with it. This is MY blog. This is MY place to express myself, and by God...I'm going to do it. This is where I can vent and be real and not have to always smile and be polite and say the right effing thing.


I wish someone could tell me that all of this will pass...and that I can actually believe them. I wish that my husband didn't go out of town the week I had to go to the hospital over all of this shit. I wish that for two seconds, my heart wouldn't feel like it's going to explode from my chest. But mostly, I wish I had never gone to the store that night.


Unfortunately, there is no happy ending to this story. At least not yet. But I am doing the absolute best I can and I hope that my loved ones can realize that and give me some G.D. time and space. Please bear with me when I don't answer the phone. Please look the other way when we are laughing and cutting up and I am suddenly in tears.


I know this healing progress is going to be LONG and very, very hard. I just hope that one day I can feel like "me" again.

Location:Perdido Beach Blvd,Orange Beach,United States