Love Note to My Children

I am very fortunate to have given birth to two amazing babies. I mean...AMAZING. I wanted to have children, and as soon as I married, I tried to get pregnant. It took a couple of months but it worked. The feeling of elation I felt when the extra line showed up on the home pregnancy test almost made me hyperventilate. I have never been that excited in my life. Both times, even.

My first child is now 22 years old. He is gorgeous, brilliant, creative, and is studying Art in college. Always wanted to be a paleontologist, but then switched to Art two years into college. Let your freak flag fly, my child.
When I went to my first obstetrical appointment with him, and I met my Dr., I was instantaneously in love. He was funny, cute and when I said, "I just want you to know, I HAVE A BIRTH PLAN, AND I WON'T STRAY FROM IT AND NOBODY ELSE BETTER, EITHER!" He smiled and calmly said, "Good, I was going to recommend that." Score one for him. Then I informed him I would be doing Bradley natural childbirth and that Lamaze was a joke. He agreed 100%. He asked pregnant women to take Bradley classes. Score 2 for him. Bradley classes are amazing and last much longer than Lamaze stupidity. Bradley takes more than 6 weeks, so you have to plan, and I've never heard a hospital say that you must take them in order to use their facilities, although with my second child I was told I must take their mandatory Lamaze to give birth there.

Anyhow, Bradley is a miracle, in my opinion. My pregnancy was healthy and completely uneventful. I knew I was in labor because my water broke. Actually, it was like Niagra Falls. If you aren't aware, it never stops. It keeps flowing out until you have the baby. Your body keeps producing it. So, "dry birth" is a total lie. (I think...I'm no doctor.)
We got to the hospital and since my birthing "suite' wasn't ready, I had to wait awhile in a regular labor and delivery room. Boring. Very small. I was bored. Plus, I could hear women screaming. It didn't scare me, because I thought they were being a bit overdramatic. If you can breathe enough to scream like that...well...you must be ok.

24 hours later with almost no pain until about 4 hours before birth, I pushed MAYBE four times and met Jack. His eyes were open and it was a silent, beautiful birth. I grabbed him and held him to me and said, "Hi! I love you! I'm your Mommy and I've been waiting for you for so long..." He stared at me. He blinked slowly. He was the most Zen little dude ever. (I thought at the time..)

Over the years, he has tested my patience to such a degree I'm lucky I'm not in jail. However, my overwhelming, all consuming love for him always wins out. He is cranky, impatient, and usually unpleasant to me. I have threatened him and done many things to rectify it, but he has been this way since the day AFTER he was born when he smelled fried chicken and threw the most amazing fit I've ever seen a newborn throw. He got us kicked out of the Auburn Hills, MI public library and banned for life, and we had the same thing happen on the nature trail adjacent to the library. Why? He said the puppet thing we were doing at Mommy and Me at the library was "tupid" and he wanted to read about Dinosaurs. He could not be stopped from loudly proclaiming these activities childish and beneath him. He continued to attempt to get out of my lap and we ended up struggling on the floor like we were wrestling. "Ma'am, we regret to say we must revoke your library card and ask that you never return." WHAT? WHAT? Philistines.

A few weeks later at the Nature Trail, they had two park rangers give a little talk and hike to children. Of course, my sweet angel and I went. Everything was fine. The rangers were talking about the dangers of taking things out of nature and the "leave no trace" policy, when my child raised his chubby little arm. (he was two years old when all of this happened.) The ranger called on him and my baby boy said, "If we leave no trace, how can we find dinosaur bones?" Of course this was all said in "Jackspeak". I was the only person who understood him most of the time. The two kind rangers were about to be blindsided by the wrath of Jack...oh the poor rangers. I was talking through gritted teeth to him..."Jack stop it...we aren't here for dinosaurs! Put your hand down and listen! I will take you home right now and spank your legs if you don't stop this right now!" My words had no affect. Jack would not be dissuaded. After the rangers awkwardly attempted to explain that there were NO dinosaur bones there, Jack said, "Of course they are. Everything was an ocean once. There are fossils everywhere." Touche' Jack. Touche'. The rangers were displeased and Jack continued to insist and I continued to threaten, so they finally asked us to leave and never come back to their presentations. I was stunned and again humiliated, although I don't know why. I picked him up and he began struggling against me. It was much like Friday night at the fights. I got him into his car seat, which was pretty damned almost impossible, and we drove home. He screamed and cried the entire time. It was about a five minute car trip to our house. We got out, and I told him he was going to sit in his room until he could control himself. He didn't care at all. He sat in his room and SCREAMED HIS LUNGS OUT FOR A GOOD 45 MINUTES. The neighbors even came over to check on him. He was a bit of a fit thrower. I didn't give in to him. If he began to throw a fit at a restaurant, we left. If he tried to throw a fit over a toy he wanted, we left. We didn't cajole or plead. Did he care? Nope. Nuh-uh.

He has grown, and he has matured. The maturity is still ongoing, but he is my heart. He is a bit solitary, like me. He has a HORRIBLE temper, like me...but not as bad as the 2-5 year old Jack. He is terribly talented with anything creative. He is a masterful writer, and his painting is amazing. He does not take advice from ANYONE. He is stubborn. He is suffering us peasants for now.

That brings me to my beloved second child. Again, easy pregnancy. Jack was 3 years old. I figured since my brother and I were four years apart as were my husband and his brother, that it would be a good time. Turns out it didn't really matter. Anyhow, this obstetrician was boring. The hospital DEMANDED we take their stupid Lamaze class. At the first class, we had to close our eyes and lay back against our husbands. ( I was the only person who already had a child in the class...the rest were glowing first timers.) Anyhow, we were to close our eyes, (NEVER DO THAT, IT MAKES YOU CONCENTRATE ON THE PAIN.), imagine the word "PAIN" written in the sand and then the wave coming and washing it away....breathe.... I couldn't help it. I guffawed out loud. Which awarded me with a roomful of glares. The teacher asked why I did that and I told her that I had used Bradley and this was all bullcrap I was just there because the hospital forced me to be. I told her when I had my baby, the nurses had been stunned how fast and how silent it had been. They called me a hippie Earth mother. I thought I could go into the surrogate business. She told me to be quiet and do whatever I wanted, but please don't disillusion the others. WHO BY THE WAY WERE ALL HAVING SCHEDULED C-SECTIONS. I was appalled. Who does that? You wait until it's time, then you go and if there is something wrong, the Dr. does a C-Section. You don't plan it around family coming into town or the Dr.s vacation or some dumbass reason. They were saying, that their baby was too big to deliver normally...it was going to be a whopping 8 pounds! Idiots. Cowards. A few weeks later, I gave birth naturally to an 11 pound baby who was 24" long. It was NOT expected but there you are. He came out demanding a steak got God's sake. 8 pounds? Puh. A cakewalk. My first was 7 13.5. So what? The dr.'s had said my second would come quickly and weight probably around 8 pounds. Neither one was true. It was an entirely different situation, and if he had been the first, he would have been the last. I'll spare all of the details, but I thought he and I were going to die, and we would have had it not been for one nurse.

Now, this baby...he was....hmmmm....how should I say this? He was perfect. He slept through the night from the very beginning, he nursed perfectly right away, (of course I knew how to do it, too.) and when he emptied that food source we had to give him formula. HOT formula. He liked it STEAMING HOT. My first? His lips never touched a bottle once in his life. Nursing was all he would do. He went from that at 13 months old to sippy cups and/or straws. This one? He took it any way he could get it. He smiled ALL THE TIME, if he was with me. If he couldn't see me, he screamed and cried. Going to the store with him in the rear facing baby seat was hell. I'd have to pull over every couple of blocks and get out and open the back door so he could see me, kiss him, do whatever, then slam the door, get back in my seat and haul ass to wherever we were going, while he screamed. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. Guess what? He is now 18, in college and has not changed much since he was born. With the exception of screaming when he couldn't see me. Now, he just comes and checks on me every 10-15 minutes. He is a worry wart. He is sweet and caring and has never yelled at me or used foul language with me.

Two very different boys, but both my heart and soul. They are my reason for living. I honestly feel sorry for people who didn't have them. They are my everything. If everything else disappeared, I would be fine as long as I had them. I've always told them a story since they were babies..I told them that no matter where we were, no matter how near or far, that three of us were connected by a silver string. It would keep us connected always. They both still remember it, and it's gotten me through some hard times. They have grown up, but to me, they are babies. I would give anything to go back to their baby and toddlerhoods. We don't appreciate it when it's happening. We are too worried, or harried or whatever. Now, I could appreciate it. I would hold them more...even when they struggled to get down. I'd smell their heads more. I'd make bathtime longer because that is where they learned their ABC's and many fairy tales and all the sounds of animals. It was just them and me...or earlier, just Jack and me. I would let them make messes and not worry about it. I would cook with them more, allow them to finger paint more, go to parks and watch them play more...without the constant fear that they would get hurt. I'd have them out more where they could meet more children their ages who could be their friends.

I'll never get that chance. I will have to content myself with grandchildren, who, although I will love beyond all reason, better not show up for quite a few years.

This is the truest of love stories. This love cannot and will not ever die. Not even in death. We have a silver string.

It's Only Fair....

to tell you things that make me NOT crazy. I not quite sure the word would be "happy", as I am usually not feeling that feeling. However, the following don't make me want to punch, hit or shoot anyone.
Again, these are in no order.

1. My children smiling.
2. My children and how funny and handsome and smart and beautiful they are.
3. My husband who is deaf as a post and does almost nothing but sit in a chair and rant on the internet about his hatred of Obama, something else I can't remember and daring people to come take his guns away. (He has about a zillion.) Last year the fool asked for ammo for Christmas, and that is what he got.
4. My three doggies. Even though one bit my finger the other day and I think I have rabies. I'm pretty sure.
5. My niece, Zoe and my nephew, Jake. They are my bonus children. I adore them. They are in high school, now. I find that hard to believe. My Z is GORGEOUS. I am not even saying that because she is my niece. SHE IS GORGEOUS and she kicks butt at tennis. My nephew Jake is the MOST POLITE AND KIND young man I have ever in my life met. He says "ma'am" to me in almost every sentence. He is kind, he is extremely funny with a dry wit and so handsome. He is also brilliant and makes straight "a"s all the time.
6. My fool of a brother. I love him like he is my baby, but he is like...almost 45. Still. He's one of the people I love the most in the world. He is a wonderful man. He is the best father I've ever seen in my life. He is a dork. I love that dork.
7. My parents. (separately, of course.) My mother has done so much for my brother and me. She is crazy as hell, and I wouldn't have it any other way. She is funny and insane. I get my insanity from her side of the family, for which I would like to say, " THANKS A LOT YOU PEOPLE ON MY MOM'S SIDE OF THE FAMILY WHO ARE INSANE. JERKS."
My father, from whom I was estranged for several years. I have reconnected with him and it makes me feel like I am a better person for it. He is the only father I have ever had, and he is terribly flawed and has done some things that are better left unsaid and unspeakable, anyhow. But, he is my father.
8. My bed. I love it. It's where I sleep. I love sleep.
9. Books.
10. mani/pedis
11. makeup
12. shopping
13. travel
14. The beach. Any beach. I crave the beach.
15 . The anticipation of a big trip.
16. The health of those I love.
17. My car.
18. The luck I've had in my new school. I have a fantastic principal. I am very thankful for that.
19. People I can still consider friends of mine. I think there is like two. I don't have many friends. I find I like that most of the time. If I think too much about it, I get upset and wonder what is wrong with me. Well, I do that all the time with no prodding.
20. My psychiatrist. She has saved me more than once.

So, I guess that's it. I can't think of much else. Oh: Abraham, Jacob, Moses, all of them. I'm thankful for them. OH! and the founding fathers of our country. Do you know how lucky we are that those particular men were alive at the same time, had the same goal and worked together? They were brilliant and well....how lucky we are.
Bye.

Things that really make me insane.

Hey, all y'all.

Merry Christmas, and any other holiday we are just ending or haven't yet begun. As Kinky Friedman says, "May the God of your choice bless you."

So, I thought I would try and list the myriad things that bug the living shit out of me. Let's get started.

(this isn't really in any order.)

1. People who say, "At the end of the day..." Okay. At the end of the day, it's nighttime. Problem solved. Stop saying that, it's stupid and overused and makes you sound like an idiot because most of the people who say it, say it CONSTANTLY.

2. People who say, "It is what it is." REALLY? IT IS? I had no idea. I didn't know "it" was what it was! A revelation! SHUT UP IF YOU SAY THIS. That is a ridiculous thing to say. It is what it is. God, that is stupid.

3. Improper use of quotation marks. As in.."We are the best." on the side of a plumber's van or something. "We will earn your trust." Well, who on Earth said that? Quotation marks indicate someone has said or is saying SOMETHING. You can't just "put quotation" marks "wherever you want to." It's "stupid". "Call us for all of your plumbing ""Needs""". Where does this small piece of hell stop?

4.People who say, "Pacific" instead of "specific". DUDE. One is the largest ocean on Earth and the other is not. GET IT STRAIGHT.

5. People who say, "for all intensive purposes". WHAT THE HELL? Read that to yourself! It makes absolutely no sense! It is supposed to be "For all intents and purposes." Idiots.

6. People who...OH.. people who abuse animals You will surely end up in Hell. Period.

7. People who are talking and when you pass by, the either stop talking or they begin to whisper. Assholes, I don't care what you are saying, I have something to do, and you are being exceptionally rude. If you have a private conversation, go to a place where there are no other people. Common courtesy, people.

8. People who smack their food. I will punch you in the throat.

9. People who make ANY NOISE while eating. I'll destroy you.

10. People who snort their snot when they have a cold. Blow your damned nose, for the love of God. Animal.

11. People who spit. EVER. FOR ANY REASON. Disgusting, and nobody wants to see your saliva and whatever is mixed into it. Nasty asses.

12. People at the movie who rattle wrappers, smack their food, wear too much cologne, (yes, young soldiers, I am talking to you), guys who have to put an empty seat between them so nobody gets the wrong idea. We won't. You know why? BECAUSE WE DON'T CARE, WE ARE HERE TO SEE A MOVIE."

13. People who talk at all at a movie.

14. People who release intestinal gas at a movie.

15. Any burping at any time unless you have nowhere else to go to belch your ABCs, which is not impressive.

16. People who hit my car. WATCH WHERE YOU ARE DRIVING, DIPSHIT.

17. People who come to my door. For any reason at all...stay away. I don't want to buy anything, I will not convert to your religion no matter what you say or what your little pamphlet says. I won't attend services to try it out, and I hate ten speed bicycles, short sleeved white shirts and black ties. Go away and never come back.

Well, that's it for now. I have to go shower and get ready for this travesty called "Christmas".

Keep the change ya filthy animals.

Annual Holiday Letter

Well, hello everyone.

Here is the Freeman/Brewer holiday letter. It is intended to replace all of those boring, bragging insipid letters other people send out on Christmasy paper. They make me gag.

Anywho....here we go. 1. January was you know...okay. It was January.

2. February I had a birthday. Big whoop.

3. March...spring break. We did nothing.

4. April. My son had his 18th birthday.

5. May. We were entering the home stretch of the end of the school year. If you could hear me now, I would sound amazingly excited, but in

6. June, I was more excited because Tyler graduated from high school.

7. July. We did nothing at all.

8. August, I got ready for the new school year.

9. Our school was transferred to our new ultra swanky building. It's pretty sweet. I changed grade levels. I teach second grade now, and I love it.

10. September. Required to teach children who were born WAY after 9/11 about 9/11 and field all of the questions of 'how", and "why', etc. Big fun. My son Jack turned 22, my daughter Kira turned 23 and Wally turned 61. We moved Jack back into his dorm, Kira began grad school at the same school Jack attends, and my brother got his masters degree there, as well. It is hella expensive. I mean, if you ever want to put food on your table again, consider another school. Tyler began his first semester at the local community college, which he well continue to do for 2 years to get his basics out of the way. Jack's art is great, by the way.

11. October. Who cares.

12. November. My Mom's birthday and another reason to eat like hogs.

13. December. Who cares. All it is is an excuse to buy crap for everyone and feel guilty if you cannot. And eat like hogs.

So. Nobody won a Nobel Peace Prize. Nobody had her book published. Wally still sits at his computer all day and considers doing a load of laundry "housekeeping", therefore, I live in a filthy, disgusting pit. I want a new house.
I have the same three dogs, and as a matter of fact, the Westie bit the HELL OUT OF MY FINGER this morning and I just now stopped bleeding. I probably have rabies, since Emperor Wallace hasn't taken them to the vet. I just realized that I might have rabies. Great. Another pain in the ass. Oh. Here is some interesting tidbits:
Our air conditioner broke...what at least two, maybe three times. The final time was in the HOTTEST part of the year. I had already started back to school and our bedroom was 98 degrees. I was cussing the guy who fixes it, and he said he is the only person in the area who can work on our stupid geo thermal unit. FILTHY LIAR. I saw a truck outside of school for another company that specializes in geo thermal and they are local. Plus this ass hat who "fixes" (we think he is secretly jacking with it so it breaks every 2 months or so...)LIED OUT OF HIS ASS. (happy holidays...sorry for the not nice words.)
I would come home from work, and enter the pit of death otherwise known as our house, and he would be sitting there at the indoor part of this dumb fancy a/c heat unit and I would come up behind him and get close to his head and scream, "IT'S HOOOOOOTTTTTT!!!!!" and he would jump and promise he was ALMOST finished and we would have cool air. HE LIED. Over a WEEK. IT WAS OVER A WEEK WITH NO A/C. In August. In Texas. I was ready to go on a killing spree or bring a sleeping bag to a movie theater and dare them to kick me out. The A/C dude told us it would be TWELVE THOUSAND dollars to get a regular A/C outside unit. LIAR. OOORRR, if were REALLY, REALLY STUPID, who could dig up 24 grand for a new indoor unit for out geothermal. Guess which one won? NEITHER ONE. I told him to fix the damned thing right and he better get it right or no pay. He was not comfortable with me at all. I screamed at him every time I saw him. I even told him I was very sick of his face. He sort of chuckled. So I said, "No. Really. I. AM . SICK. OF. YOUR. FACE." Then he came back with a very witty quip: "Yeah, I guess I'm back a little too soon." I said, "Haha. I'm sleeping at your house until you fix this crap. You can sleep here...how's that sound???" He then began to pretend to wash something off with our hose. Assclown.
We got a bill. You know where it is? On the corkboard where it will sit until I'm damned good and ready to pay it. I AM NOT AN IDIOT. YOU RIPPED US OFF AND I NEVER WANT TO SEE THAT DUDE LARRY SMITH(yes, I used his name) AGAIN.


Then there is the problem with Wally's van. We call it the "vomit comet". It is a travesty to all car makers, car drivers, car dealerships, Henry Ford and whoever invented the car. When you ATTEMPT to turn the steering wheel(it has lost it's power steering capabilities.) it makes this sound..."ssssccccrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" very loudly. As far as I can tell, there are no brakes. You practically have to put your foot out the door to stop the stupid thing. When you go over any single bump or anything in the road, his car goes.."squeek, squeek, squeek". LOUDLY. His driver's side window won't roll down. One of the side doors opens on it's own. It smells really bad. He has rigged up so much crap inside for his "convenience" that nobody will ever take it as a trade. It is a DEATH TRAP. OH YEAH. I had to drive it one day because some mouth breather rear ended MY BRAND NEW CAR, and it was in the shop. As I was going downhill, it began going.."ding...ding...ding...and I was looking at the gauges...then it begins DINGDINGDINGDINGDING!" SO, I pulled over, and called the Emperor. I said, "Dude, your piece of shit just overheated." His response? "Hmmm." I was beyond furious. I said, "So what are you going to do, knight in shining shit?" He said, "Just give it a minute. It's the thermometer...it has a spring in it...blah blah blah..." I said, "Wait. This happens a lot? ARE YOU FREAKING SIMPLE????" He said, just keep going, and the sound will stop as soon as the spring or some shit releases.' I said, "You didn't even offer to come get me, you asshole." I hung up. I cautiously pulled back into traffic, went under the speed limit and watched the temperature gauge the whole way home. I got home with no further issues, except for the horrific dying cat sounds his van produces. I got out, stomped into the house and went on a horrific, (but justified) tirade. I'm pretty sure, hell, I'm totally sure I used foul language and threats to pieces of his body he would be really sad without. He told my Dad..."Well I have almost 100,000 miles on it! Gonna put another 100,000 on it. I began cussing and my Dad laughed in his face.

That brings us up to a couple of weeks ago. OH, then I got the real actual true flu. The doctor said, "Well, my dear...I'm afraid it's not a cold...it's the flu." Great. Bronchitis, pneumonia...it all goes hand in hand with me. Problem is...I have a job which requires me to be there or the kids will tear the room down. So, I had to get a substitute for three days. The kids were good, but I felt like real true crap. I am still achy and don't feel 100%. He said it would take a week to two weeks before I should go back to work. I went back in three days. Who can do a week to two weeks? Nobody.

Yesterday, my youngest and I got into some ridiculous argument about the Berlin wall, East and West Berlin, which was a sovereign nation (West Berlin) and I explained the damned Soviet Bloc to him. He then informed me with aggravating "I'm superior to you" that Paris had been a sovereign nation when Hitler invaded. I informed him that no, it had not. It had been a city. I said almost all of Europe and a good deal of Africa and who knows where else was invaded by Hitler so what did that have to to with anything. He disagreed with so much it was amazing. He then said the BEST THING HE HAS SAID IN A VERY LONG TIME. Get ready for it. He said, "Haven't you heard of Vicky France?" I sat there confused then realized he mean Vichy France and I almost peed I was laughing so hard. He kept saying, "What, what?" And I said, "Vicky France sound like a stripper, and it was VICHY FRANCE". I had to say it with the proper pronunciation , so he would think I knew what I was talking about, then I asked if he had ever heard of VICKYSWAW? He said, "no" and I said, "That is because it is Vichyssoise" Oh my god. It was so fun. He says the funniest things. He did something like that a few days ago, but I can't remember what it was. I have been calling him Vicky France for two days. He gets furious.

That is our year until today. I haven't run in awhile, because of my GD ankle. I hate my left ankle and I hate 19 year old me for getting into a wreck that almost had them have to amputate my left foot because every bone, ligament and tendon was torn up in my left ankle and all of the bones in my left foot were broken. I hate me at 19. Well, at every age, I guess.

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals. (I didn't edit this. I'm not editor.)