No Crying Over Spilled Soup...

Bahahaha...

2011-10-04T00:25:00.001-05:00

When do you know you are losing it? For me? Inappropriate humor. Things that are NOT funny are hilarious. These are a few things that have made me giggle this week that shouldn't have....

Don't be shy. It's never been something you were any good at, anyway. Just say it, whatever it is. Even your family members will applaud you for having the guts to get this out in the open.

....um....no they won't.

WritersDigest: Rejection Letter to Your Past Self - Write a letter of rejection to your past self, explaining why you needed to go ...

...yeahhhh THAT'S healthy. Pshhh....

BlogHerBlogging: NaBloPoMo Prompt of the Day (Oct 4): Are you the oldest, youngest, middle or only child? Talk about siblings. --Mel

...Answer, E...all of the above may be correct. I couldn't even begin to talk siblings this week...

So. There you go. I have a lot to say and no time to sit down and collect my thoughts. Give it time, it's coming...

So there was this day...

2011-09-19T06:00:00.001-05:00

All things considered,a fairly average day. Thinking along the lines of just trudging through.
Until.
This was the day, and I didn't even know it. Last Friday was when my mom decided to confirm the silly notion that my Daddy wasn't biologically mine. It's got me spinning a bit, even though it's been a running joke forever.
So.... I can't get the time away to myself to process this. I'm being watched for reaction in some ways. I can't say I'm surprised, but after 40 years and being with Dad through his dying months, I guess I got comfy.The mystery surrounding my birth has been a joke for a while...based mostly on the fact that I'm entirely too analytical for my own good.
I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. Just driving down the road and the world was suddenly different. Mmmkay... Soooooooooo.
I didn't grow up thinking I was adopted, or having some dusty old picture of a father is never know. I grew up with a flesh and blood Dad. With all his flaws and imperfections.
Most of all, he was my Daddy. Every day. No one in my family ever treated me like I wasn't part of them. All my suspicions were for very different reasons. Just that underlying current of energy that something didn't fit.
So now I know. I even know who WAS biologically responsible.
So now what?

Ok...This won't be AS wordy as the last one....

2011-09-09T15:48:00.000-05:00

Ok, in my excitement about Fantasy Eff Off Friday a couple of weeks ago, I wrote a totally rambly post, which I intended to edit - but ran out of time due to hubby's change in my plans.... so I first have to say, I didn't intend on a novel there (although topic is certainly deserving).

Today? I'll keep it shorter...or whatever...although AGAIN.... topic? Deserving of proportionate response that would keep you reading for days...
But I'm giving a HUGE Eff Off today to the people who just don't understand that history MATTERS...

It's that simple.

9/11/2001 mattered.

April 19, 1995 mattered.

Every day that people lose loved ones in a senseless fashion matters. These dates are just known for the impact they made nationwide.... You think we should just let the past go...we shouldn't focus on the negative...we perpetuate the effect by BRINGING IT UP?

It's that simple. Take some time, look at the way that YOUR world would be impacted by a sudden and complete annihilation of your world, One that the entire world watched happen, that you see reminders of EVERYWHERE whether you want to or not... How would you POSSIBLY just suck it up and move on?
It mattered. It will always matter.

So don't ask those of us who DO get that it mattered NOT to honor the memory of the events.

We will never forget. We don't even want to try.

So those of you who feel like it's overkill to have all the memorials, the mentions, to watch the coverage of the survivors and the families and how they cope? There will never be ENOUGH memorials to the people who are killed because someone, somewhere, believes that they have the right to MURDER people in the name of an idea, or a belief. There is no excuse. Collateral Damage MATTERS...

For these people, I honestly don't have the urge to abbreviate

Fuck Off....

FANTASY EFF OFF FRIDAY!

2011-08-27T12:15:00.007-05:00

Oh, have I got a post for this…

my first venture into the world of memes

.......on the very FIRST Fantasy Eff Off Friday.. .

It's gonna probably be long. Grab a beer....
It is one for the books...And I have no qualms about calling people out on it.

WELL...Here, anyway.

Because, in the real world? It just gets awkward.

Side note: I would apologize for the changes in colors and fonts, but I started this at 4 am, and am just finishing at 11…a day late at that, on a day that SUCKS for me, and it entertained me… so politely eff off if it bothers you!

There is no simple answer for this problem, short of throat punching every seemingly well meaning person who broaches the topic.

I looked for quotes, there are no suitable ones…

…almost as if the subject is taboo.

I gave up looking for words to use, so I found my 'title' in other languages...

belle-mère French

madrastra Spanish

leasmháthair Irish

Stiefmutter German

What I can't find, ANYWHERE...

Not. One. Place.

Anything that explains why people feel that it is appropriate to ask questions about what *I* feel is the most personal issue in a woman's life. Maybe that mentality perpetuates the problem.... I'm not sure.

What I KNOW...?

I haven't given birth.

I've never been pregnant.

I am a stepmother.

My little family's first picture all together...

Like the fairy tales, only better.

What does this mean to ME?

Only Everything. But not in the way you assume.

Here is the advice available...and what type of mentality we face. Always.

“There is this double standard by which we suspect stepmothers of being wicked and selfish, yet expect them to be utterly selfless and loving to kids who are not their own, kids who are often hostile and rejecting for many years in spite of a stepmother’s best efforts and intentions.”

Luckily, I have NEVER faced the issue of the kids being hostile towards me for the sake of my role as a stepmother. I HAVE dealt with the FEELINGS that go with the sentiment expressed, but have been fortunate never to have heard "You're not my mother" thrown in my face in anger.

“I prefer the term “wife” to “current wife” or “new wife.” It’s more accurate and less loaded, I think. There’s a wife and an ex-wife (or partner and ex-partner). Period.”

Again, something I don't face. My 'ex-wife-in-law' or the woman I refer to as "The Mother of My Children" and I? We get along. We aren't delusional, we have our days we want to strangle one another. But generally? She's a good person. She's fiercely trying to be a great mother to the kids. Her choices aren't always what we agree on, HOWEVER, the way she has presented MY role to the kids has always been appreciated.

Beyond WORDS....Appreciated.

To quote her (during a particularly devastating day, very early in my stemomness, when someone made me feel like CRAP because I wanted to take off work for a school thing for my stepdaughter...They told me it wasn't even MY kid, so they didn't think I should take off) "If I, their MOTHER, consider them your kids...who the hell is ANYONE to argue the point?" So, again. This is all great information available to people who have the issues dealing with their role. But there is none available for those of us who don't. Who have more INNER struggle than outward with the situations.

“Stepmothers need to put their own adjustment and self-care first, rather than siphoning energy away from that to “fix” something that you didn’t break yourself.”

and

“Put your own happiness, your own mental health and your marriage or partnership first and without guilt.”

~Wednesday Martin, author of Stepmonster

I should point out that I have never read this book (in part because of the fact that everything I find seems to point toward it being advice I have little need for) and that I think it probably is a very well put together book for the majority of people who carry my title. I just don't fit in that specific part of this story.

Ok, So I got a little sidetracked, because my Eff Off isn't specifically about the limited understanding of the Stepmother in the modern family. Although it TOTALLY deserves an eff off of it's own... and I guess I'm combining...

It started out to be more about those people who will inevitably ask the MOST RIDICULOUS QUESTIONS... immediately upon meeting me. Like it's their God Given Right because they gave birth...

Do you have kids? Oh, why not? Did you not WANT kids? So you never actually HAD a child? Oh I thought you said you have two? Were you PLANNING to? Did your husband not want more kids? What about when you're older... What if you two divorce, then you have no one to take care of you?

"Maybe I’m being oversensitive, but I find it incredible a stranger thinks it’s fine to probe my ability or desire to procreate. For I’m certain the same people would never dream of asking me to reveal my salary, how often I have sex, or who I voted for."

Read more of this AWESOME ARTICLE

Then there's my favorite attitudes (just as a side note...)

Oh, thanks for the input, but since you didn't actually have a baby - your suggestions are less valid...no offense...

(Simply having children does not make mothers. ~John A. Shedd)

Like giving birth actually gives you some insight on what to do when your child has allergies, or is having trouble learning math, or is insisting on getting a dog. Whatever. I did it. I did ALL that. I've been there, done that. I just wasn't offered the T-Shirt....why? Keep reading.

Now that I've meshed the two subjects together into a MEGA EFF OFF post...I'm gonna run with it and stop apologizing for the detours... Just try keeping up.

If you don't mind me asking... (I do, but that's NEVER stopped anyone)... Why didn't you have any of your OWN? (like I contracted the work out to avoid the labor?)

I know you *think* you love them as if they were your own, but if you never HAD your own, how could you KNOW? I don't think it's possible...

You can't POSSIBLY imagine what motherhood is about if you never carried a child and given birth...

Oh, so you don't have any REAL kids...? (someone I went to high school ACTUALLY said this during a conversation about my daughter graduating high school and how insane the preparation is) I'll send you the bills for the braces, the statements to pay on the insurance for her to drive a car, Not to mention also parenting a BOY...I'm totally unequipped to explain, but I'm FULLY experienced in the the difference. They ARE REAL KIDS...

Oh the Biblical references...Questions about God punishing us....

Q. Were barren women in the Bible used by God even though they were considered cursed? What is Biblical view of being barren? Were any of the barren women HEALED?

"'Sing, O barren, You who have not borne! Break forth into singing, and cry aloud, You who have not labored with child! For more are the children of the desolate Than the children of the married woman,' says the LORD. " (Isaiah 54:1)
"For indeed the days are coming in which they will say, 'Blessed are the barren, wombs that never bore, and breasts which never nursed!' " (Luke 23:29)

Heaven help the ones who CHOSE to be childless....

"Do you find childless woman in their 40's a little bit offish?"

Click to read The kind of comments...as if they are some rare indigenous tribe...

"My friends and I have occasionally likened coming out as child-free to coming out as a gay person 40 or 50 years ago. There's the same sense of shock - perhaps that's too strong a word. But it's a lifestyle people don't expect and it may challenge their world view," says a 31-year-old cited in a BBC interview

Here's the REAL scoop....

I didn't choose this...

I wanted children. More than you will EVER know.

It wasn't meant to be for me. Which is Something I found out when I went in for surgery at 37, two weeks after losing my father (which believe me, affected the grieving process for BOTH situations).

I ALWAYS wanted my own baby. I knew, when hubs and I married, that I wanted to have his child. I wanted that bond. I wanted to share that with him, even though I wouldn't be the first person he shared it with...

As time went on, minus pregnancy, despite our wish for it, I began to think of my situation a different way. I had gotten close to many other stepmom's through a community online. I had watched many of them become mothers and the stepchildren became more of a burdern in most cases. It changed the entire dynamic of even the ones who TRULY LOVED their role as a stepmom. It was difficult to process for me.

I prayed for my own child. I ached with the yearning. I KNEW I wanted it with *almost* all my heart.

Wait....What.....?

Yeah. ALMOST all my heart.

Christmas 2000

I have two children. They're AMAZING kids. I love them with everything I have...ALL of my heart. It's not always easy to share the parenting, to know I'm second best AT BEST in the grand scheme of things. That I'll never be anyone's MOMMY. Why not adopt? (another favorite question that should be banished)....

Because. I ALREADY KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO LOVE ANOTHER PERSON'S CHILD.

BUT....

My prayer was always the same. "God, I give this to you...because I know that what *I* want is selfish in it's ways. My honest desire is to be the best mother I can in whatever role YOU choose for me. If having a child of 'my own' will change the love I feel for the children I have, then I don't want it, God. I don't want to change the pure joy I find in being the parent of these two kids"

So. I left it up to God (It's not like *I* had any choice anyway). I had known all along that I never wanted us to be the 'fertility' couple. If we couldn't concieve, we had already determined that we were not going to spend the majority of the kids years at home trying to force something that wasn't working to happen. I admire the women (and understand the urge) who are willing to subject themselves to medical procedure after medical procedure to concieve. It was never that I was against the idea. It was just the same mentality as the prayer.

In short, If it took my life to a place where what I DID have was not enough, I didn't want it.

Sounds all noble. Sounds like I'm just a freakin saint... right? Wrong.

It is purely a matter of logic. Analyzing. Being content to curl up on the couch with my little family and realize that if I were obsessed with fertility, I would miss the moments where my kids DID come to me. I would look at it as if I were LACKING something because I had not pushed a child out of my body.

Yeah, I would have LOVED to know the feeling of a life growing, of GIVING life to a child.

Instead, I am content to be the person who nurtured who these two children are becoming.

I taught my son his abc's, helped him learn to read, how to tie his shoes. I have been in his life as long as he can remember. Every day isn't sunshine and happiness, but honestly? The testing that he does, the pushing of buttons, the attitude of a teenager?

That all just shows me .....

I did my job.

The job of a Mother.

Me and my Bug

That he treats me as a parent. Because he does NO MORE or LESS to the other parents in his world (except that strange OVERBOARD kids go with pushing their actual mother...which I'm REALLY OK with missing out on)

I danced with my daughter at bedtime, I listened to hours of questions about the world. I did the slumber parties. I did her hair and makeup getting ready for dances (and most of her friends').

I shopped. I played.

I had talks about beoming a woman. I taught her and her best friend what a tampon did

(with an inspired demonstration in a strange shot glass....)

To be sure a stepmother to a girl is a different thing to a second wife to a man! ~Elizabeth Gaskell

Me and Princess Grace

Guess who calls me when she's bored? When she's excited about a job, or worried about something... When she's upset, or afraid. Or bored... (because apparently 21 year olds are bored a lot these days...)She's at the age where she realizes that my job wasn't always easy, but not quite old enough to truly GET IT yet. I might not be the one she runs to for everything. I may never been who she wishes was there with her when things are at their worst, but I like to think I'm in the mix. For that, I'm grateful.

I didn't get it all in the way most people think.... I realize that. I'm ok with that.

So all of you people out there who feel it is OK to question, judge, pry, snoop.....?

Feel Free to EFF OFF!

Don't expect the mushy very often...

Spreading A Little Thin the attention span these days?

2011-08-23T17:20:00.000-05:00

Well, it is bound to happen someday.
Right?
I mean, how many balls DO I expect to have in the air at once without one of them eventually causing me a concussion?

OK. So, obviously I have *issues*
I'm a tad scattered (as I write this, I am currently reading two twitter accounts, texting with my boss, talking on the phone with my hubs, googling info on psychiatrists in the area, googling adderall dosage, trying to print out a report for work, and looking around at the chaos that surrounds me in this room wishing I could shut down life JUST FOR A WEEKEND and organize my world.)
Because I can't manage to enjoy things in a simple manner, I feel like I have to complicate them unnecessarily. Thus the addition of a second twitter account (I can't be funny with my family watching. My humor doesn't WORK on them). Of course, to add that twitter, and get klout and such going, I needed a Facebook account to reference it to. So I now have a totally useless account set up that I may or may not enjoy torturing people from anonymously for a while. Of course, again, with the tag of Soup in general? It's pretty much a giveaway. Which is why I won't even BE MY OWN FRIEND on that Facebook account. Brilliant, right?
Today is one month not smoking. I'm kinda cool with it. It's also been a month with my working out, and clothes are falling off of me. Now I've actually set up an appointment with a psychiatrist (multi-tasking KICKS ASS) and will, hopefully, do something about this ADD issue I'm having these days. I am aware that I have real distractions in my world, but come ON... if I can medicate with my friends' meds and function, then somewhere there is a med just for me! Not that I need another diagnosis, but I'm tired of being so obviously SCREWED about getting things done. Work. I need my job. Which means if I have to work from home due to circumstances, I need to be able to actually DO my work from home. Right? RIGHT!

Now. Because I'm just that kind of ~~brilliant~~ ~~Bored~~ DiStrAcTeD. I have started digging through images for...
wait for it....
More images of Barbie... I have to explain this pattern. Because I fear people will begin to take it the wrong way...

Once upon a time, in another lifetime - not so long ago - I worked in a job where being female was considered a pretty big handicap. No one took you seriously, no one allowed you to even DO your job most days. Being 5'5", blonde hair, blue eyes, big boobs, and a size 5? I got the nickname Barbie.

Hell, I might as well have just stayed home. But I didn't. I was pretty determined to overcome the stigma. Over time, the inmates (yeah. That's right. A badge, a gun, and 1,400 men that had to do what I said!) realized that I wasn't all fun and games. They adjusted their opinions AND my nickname, and Barbie Bitch was born.
OK, don't get it twisted. These days? I'm a lot more Bitch than Barbie and I haven't been a size 5 this century. But come on. It's a play on who I was once, and I enjoy it. Besides, I'm working my ass off (literally) and although I have no specific interest in being a size 5 again...I WILL be Barbie Bitch again some day. Maybe a different attitude, and a different size, but I'll find that inner Diva and bring her back to life. One day at a time...

I'm feeling very Holly Golightly today....

2011-08-09T08:57:00.002-05:00

I feel like running off to somewhere I've never been before... just because I never have.

Tuesday...oh no it CAN'T be Tuesday...it's TOO GRUESOME!

I've got a hell of a week to go and I just want it to go AS PLANNED for once. So everyone keep your shit together and things will be JUST FINE. Don't make me go all Ya Ya on everyone. My weekend girl day plans already got screwed. I'm not tolerating any further fallout.

Or narcissistic, passive aggressive crap.... You've been warned.

The countdown is on...

2011-08-03T22:38:00.000-05:00

Ok. I admit it. I'm spoiled.

28 days. 6 nights, 7 days. Casino, Beach, The Boardwalk...

It's just almost impossible. This time next month I could be rolling my eyes in boredom from TOO MUCH vacation.

So how much pre-trip shopping can I do without putting a huge dent in the spending money?

Alphabet Soup Explained....

2011-08-03T01:53:00.000-05:00

Although most people who know me ~~wouldn't think so~~ ~~might wonder~~ are completely aware of. I'm a bit of a mess. Not so much OUTWARDLY....but inwardly...absolutely.

Soup began innocently enough. It was all about venting and ranting and whining and bitching and moaning about life in general with a friend. Soup is sacred. What happens at Soup, Stays at Soup... So there are no off topics there. No judgements or disapproving looks... it's all about whatever we need it to be. Soup began when a friend was going through a rough spot in her life, and I'm ALWAYS in some random restless vagabond mode or another. So we would go. Sit. Talk. We made time. Along the way we picked up a few things... the spoon...which is the symbol of soup, and our own particular brand of crazy soup. Mine? Alphabet...all the way.
ADD, OCD, PTSD, AD....You get the picture. I could make a business card look good. So there you have the basis behind Soup as a premise. Spilled Soup came about because I needed a place to vent that *I* didn't edit for content. I need to be able to be snarky, and judgemental, and generally be the bitch that I am.

So while it definitely takes some effort to keep up with all my crazy, Eventually I hope to have this blog going along quite well... I have places I have to be nice. This isn't it.
So stick around. Things might just get interesting...

I have been misused by many many many men....

2011-07-26T17:45:00.001-05:00

I laugh at this EVERY SINGLE TIME I hear it....BUT?

Click here~~~~> How I feel about a LOT of people on facebook. Does this make me a whore?

While most of my friends were having kids, or getting married, (or subsequently divorced and having support/custody battles)...I? Was drinking, dancing, and...well, let's just say I was a bit of a wild child in my 20's. I pretty much did what I wanted, when I wanted, how I wanted. No one was gonna put me in a box...so I just blew on through every phase of early adulthood without honestly EVER conquering a single one. The beauty of that?
It was all about me.

All day....
Every day....

And it was awesome....

(Really? Judgement? Puh-lease....It's illegal here...)

This video could pretty much be aimed RIGHT AT ME....(except the obvious male references)
I was young, I was just cute enough to get all the attention (for good or bad) that I could possibly want. If I drank enough, I was ten foot tall and bulletproof...and the hottest thing in the bar.... It's true. I was there.

The self-centered, narcissistic stage that plagues most teenagers took over a decade beyond my 20th birthday to pass into being a full blown adult (still a bit self-centered and narcissistic, but hey...who's perfect?). Meaning, if I screwed up - someone else would fix it. If I didn't like where I was - I moved (lease be damned!). Every three months or so (yes, it was almost THAT predictable) I would change jobs, men, living situations... It was exhausting for those around me. For me? Everything I owned fit neatly in my car. I didn't necessarily unpack.
Ever.
I was that friend that just needed a couch for a night to crash and ended up there for a while. My family started asking guys I dated if they would still be around for the holidays (even if they met them in November...it depended on where in the 3 month rolling cycle I was). I don't even remember parts of my 20's. Seriously. Like entire time frames wiped from the hard drive in my head (and it does have Random Access Memory) like I was asleep through weeks of activity.
I was quite literally the perfect bachelorette. I didn't cook, I didn't clean, I didn't bring anything productive to the table. The up side was, I was a cheap date... (as an ex once told me, I didn't need a rich man, Taco Bell costs the same no matter who's buying it)

Not that I'm PROUD of those things.....

......not that I'm particularly ashamed of them either.

Eventually that phase passed.

I just wish I had figured out this disposable income thing earlier (like back when I would have used it for rent....Ok, I'm lying. For cover charges? Yeah, probably that. Obviously, with coin beer you didn't HAVE to have much money in those days). I mean, being able to just spend $2500 on new appliances so they'll be prettier? Sheesh. I never thought of that. By no means are we rich, but we've got good money coming in and we're irresponsible. THAT is how we roll these days. Like we can't possibly save a dime, something horrible will go wrong if we have an emergency stash and are suddenly equipped with good financial behavior.
Yeah. I laughed at that part too...

Maybe it's just meant to be this simple. You KNOW I haven't tried THAT hard to avoid the pitfalls of slovenly behavior (some days I don't actually get dressed at ALL). I guess we'll just keep trekking along, blowing our money on wants rather than needs...and we'll always make it through.
Sometimes love IS enough...(as long as you marry someone who is just as horrible with money as you are. That way, even if you're poor...who do you blame?)

Ok. I guess there's nothing left but to start....

2011-07-25T21:28:00.000-05:00

I have a blog...actually I have two of them. They depict my life. My world as it is... THIS blog? Has no purpose other than entertainment. The semi-anonymity of not telling anyone who I am, although I know a few people who would have no trouble figuring it out if they found me...(soup is kinda my thing...but I'll explain what soup is, and how it ACTUALLY works at another time...)
I mean, who doesn't want to follow a 40 year old anxiety sufferer who is quitting smoking and dieting and working out 3-5 times a week for the first time in her life ALL while dealing with the heavy shit life is handing her... (and no exaggeration, I got some heavy shit going on)... Internationally known (...well, a couple of my friends from school live in other countries now, doesn't that count?) FABULOUS....(in a way that only the people who have no regard for fashion can be!) and DRIVEN (to madness most days) to change.
Honestly, I live a life of tremendous blessings. But also of limited, er...what would you call it....ummm...?
Excitement? No. I don't bore easily, I'm a reader.
Adventure? Not really, it's an adventure every time I go to the gym...that's enough for me these days.

I have plenty of REAL things to complain/whine/bitch about in my real world...but that's not what this is about. THIS is my one place to actually be pretentious. As if the perky people at Starbucks making me stabby the ONE day a week I drag my ass out to get a mocha is the pinnacle of all that is wrong with my life. No, it's not. But that's part of the charm of this page. It's where the REALITY isn't the point. It's the fabulous, narcissistic, neurotic, snarky, obsessive compulsive, random, useless place that I can air all my ridiculous, pointless crap. DIG?
Let's just say creativity...maybe that sums it up. It's all and nothing at once. No REAL reason to complain, but I'm a whiner nonetheless. So stick around and watch me let loose my inner narcissist, because around here? It's really ALL about me...