The Baby Boom Is Getting Old

I'm writing this as little feet are pitter-pattering around the kitchen.  And hearing the occasional grunt of frustration as my nephew tries to peel magnets off of the refrigerator and stick them to the sliding glass door to the sunroom.

If you have any clue, you know that I absolutely adore my nephew.  When I'm having a bad day, all I have to do is think about his pudgy little smile and when he reaches for my hand to walk me into another room to show me something.

But when my brother or my sister-in-law picks him up, and either my ma or myself are cleaning up the tornado streak he leaves behind, I realize how not ready I am to have children.  I was watching him nap on the couch this morning, (seriously, passed out in his tracks from playing too hard, all sprawled out and everything,) and I started thinking, How do people do it?  I can barely take care of myself, how will I ever be able to raise a child?  My mind started running through all kinds of scenarios...for instance, it snowed a pretty decent amount here last night.  Now, if I had a baby, and I had to shovel myself out, how would I do it?  I can't leave a baby alone in the house, but the driveway has got to be shoveled.  Because, as I've learned in the past, you can't depend on anyone but yourself. 

Sure, ideally I'd have Baby's Daddy to take care of all of that manual labor kind of shit, but let's face it, with my track record, that ain't gonna happen.  Ideally I'd wake up, the driveway would be shoveled, my car would be cleaned off and there'd be rock salt put down so I don't slip, fall, and bust my face on the concrete.

I wish my biological clock would shut the fuck up.

Decisions, Decisions

311 just added a show to their spring tour in Las Vegas.  On February 19th, of course.  Because that's the same day as Buckcherry in Philadelphia.  And the same weekend my brother and sister in law decided to have the Mid-Winter Classic down at her parents' beach house.

It's not like I can afford to fly out to Vegas right now anyway.  (When I say I don't regret anything I've done, like blowing my money on various trips and concerts around the country too much, too fast, it becomes a little more of  lie every day.)

But going to see Buckcherry would be a lot less expensive than a night in Atlantic City.  And flying to Vegas.

Good things come to those who wait though, right?  To those with patience, and those who make a valiant effort to get their shit together, even though it's going to take a long time?

Hopefully.

My Resolution Is To NOT Make One

I am a firm believer in not making a New Year's resolution.  It was cute when I was 11, but now that I'm older, I realize it's a waste of time for me.  I know some people who make them and keep them.  I'm not one of those people.

I am firm believer that if I want to change or improve something about myself, I don't have to wait for a new year to start to do it.  Sure, it's almost romantic-sounding - A new year, a new me!  I prefer to make a quiet declaration to myself no one else, because really, it's no one else's business.

I'm not planning to quit smoking.  Cut back, maybe, but only because last week I actually crunched some numbers and learned that I spend a ridiculous amount of money on cigarettes each month.  It's got nothing to do with the fact that it's 2011.
I don't plan on joining a gym, dieting, or trying out the latest weight loss fad.  I've done all of that in the past and learned that if I want to lose weight, I have to do it on my terms and utilize what works for me.  But now that the holidays are over, I won't be stuffing my face with rich food, drinking copious amounts of wine, and all of the Christmas cookies that didn't get eaten have been thrown away.

So if you made a New Year's resolution, good luck to you.  I hope you stick with it.  And if you don't, it's not the end of the world, you can always try again...tomorrow.

Merry Christmas! Where's the Tylenol?!

Cody, Me holding Bennett, Lauren, (Bennett's mommy,) and Caleigh

Christmas was wonderful this year.  For my family it is not a matter of seeing how many presents we can give or receive, it's a matter of all of us being together.



Ashley, Hamilton, Ma, Nicholas and I



The rundown of Dane's Family Christmas:

First off is Christmas Eve is dinner at MomMom B's with my father's side of the family, usually around 3.  Then around 6:30 my Mom's family starts to come over to our house, where we proceed to eat, drink, open presents, take pictures in front of the tree, maybe rearrange the neighbors' reindeer into compromising positions.  Everyone is usually gone by 11:00 and Ma and I are snuggled in our beds waiting for Santa.



Ma and Aunt Mare drinking the Boone's

Christmas morning my brother and his wife bring the baby over, my Pop comes over and we all have coffee and various Christmas treats and exchange gifts.
Dinner is at my Mom's sister's house at 4:00, and we are all together again, eating and drinking and being merry, usually dancing in the kitchen as well.


Nicholas playing with his new toy



It blows my mind how much things have changed over the years, though.

When I was little we had the Feast of Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve at my mom's parents' and we would all exchange gifts that night.  Christmas day my mom had my brother and I dressed in our holiday finest and we were at my father's parents' for a turkey dinner at 1:00, and then onto to her parents' again, for wedding soup and lasagna at 4:00.  We never knew who would be joining us either, from my MomMom's relatives that live in Daisytown, to her brothers and sisters and their families, to my PopPop's brothers and their families that lived down the street and various cousins that would drop by.


MomMom and PopPop lived in a tiny end-unit row home with no off street parking.  A tiny little kitchen and dining room, and we'd cram in there like sardines, happier than pigs in shit.  The running joke for years was how my brother and I would show up sulking because we had already gotten our toys from Santa taken away since we fought like cats and dogs.  It's even on video.

Now things are wholly different, but it's okay, because we are all still together during the holidays.  We still pass around a bottle of Boone's Farm wrapped in a paper bag while opening gifts with Ma's family.  We don't do the Seven Fishes or have lasagna anymore, but when my aunt says that MomMom is rolling over in her grave my Ma points out that she's happy to know that we are all together.

Caleigh, Cody and I

The family exchanging gifts, from left - Tina, Paul, Lauren, Cody, Bennett, Steve, Caleigh



"Just Keep Your Pants On"

So one of my boys put it into some sort of perspective for me the day my dirty laundry was aired to my Mama.


Me:  So after our conversation at the diner yesterday I now realize how much of a trainwreck I am.
Him:  Why baby??
Me:  Cuz you're right...I got my issues and my craziness and if I keep on going this way it's only gonna get worse.
Me:  -That one- got his official welcoming to the band last night.
Him:  Awwwwww
Him:  Listen this -anonymous- shit taught me NOT to second guess myself. You KNOW you. No one else does.
Me:  That's the problem. I USED to know myself. It's hard to believe but I used to have my shit together!
Him:  Well my darling, it's NEVER too late to make ANY changes you want or need.
Me:  Easier said than done. While it's all fun and games in the moment at the end of the day it kind of sucks.
Him:  -sad face-
Me:  Don't you feel that way sometimes?
Him:  Yea....I do.
Him:  A lot actually.
Me:  I wanna be a lil rockstar all the time and drink and fuck and party but it seems I can't do that and have any self respect at the same time.
Me:  Does that make sense?
Him:  Yes, it does, just STOP the whore-y stuff. Hang out with us and JUST be our drinking rock 'n roll friend. :)
Me:  Ha! I thought that was part of my charm! lol jk
Him:  No! We LOVE YOU! For YOU! You're one of US! Forever baby, forever!
Me:  Do you know how sweet that is?  It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside haha.
Him:  I'm NOT kidding, I'm DEAD serious.  You ARE -his band's name here- JUST like us.  Seriously!
Him:  You're NOT a fan, you ARE a part of our organization.
Me:  I'm not kidding either!  I LOVE being a part of the band!  Why else would I trudge my ass all over the tristate area when you guys play?
Him:  :)  You found a HOME baby :)
Me:  I did.  :)

The real test will be just being the drinking rock 'n roll friend.  Stayed tuned...

Talk About A Wake Up Call

Define irony.

Right after this post was published, someone very close to me, someone who I choose to not share my sexual exploits with, discovered way too much for her own good.

My beloved Mama read a few pages of my journal.
Yes, I keep an actual journal.  That I write in with an actual pen.  That has actual pages.  I have since my senior year of high school and it's the only form of therapy I can afford right now.
She confronted me the other morning, one of the mornings I had happened to stumble through the front door around 5 am, after engaging in yet another night of risky behavior.
At first I was angry.  Very, very angry.  My mother has never, ever, been a snoop.  But honestly?  I can't blame her.  It's one of the downsides to still living at home.  She's there when I leave at night and if I end up not coming home, she deserves a phone call.

Let me run down the list of things I'm okay with my mother knowing:

• I drink alot.
• I dated guys 10+ years older than me.
• The man I was with for five years and I were, in fact, having sex (she's not stupid.)
• That occasionally I do sleep with a guy that I'm into

And a list of things I am not okay with her knowing:

• It's usually different guys (too late.)
• I was involved in the BDSM scene for a while.
• I drink alot more than I let on.
• I am, in fact, in someone else's bed, naked, when I don't come home (too late.)

She said to me that she knows I don't tell her everything in order to protect her.  But I cannot imagine the heartbreak she was going through sitting on my bed reading those pages, thinking that her daughter does not respect herself or her body in the least.  To see my mother, who does not cry, break down in tears right in front of me, was a knife in my heart.  The fact that she came over to me, put her arms around me, and said, through her tears, that she cannot fathom what it must be like to not have a father to look up to or lean on, twisted that knife hard.

Maybe I do need to do some soul searching.  Clean up my act, per se.  Maybe I need to realize that I can't fucking do it on my own.  And that my addictive personality will catch up with me one day.

I Wanna See It!

This post is about cock.  Yes.  That incredible, pleasure-and-pain-inducing, body part that has the power to make me scream and the power to destroy my mind.  You've been forewarned.  Cock, and that wonderful place called 'The Land Of Fuck.'

You know what they say about tits?  The same goes for cock.  Once you've seen one...you want to see the rest of them.

I used to beat myself up over my promiscuity.  I had my reasons - it was pretty bad there for a while.  But I haven't jumped into bed with a complete stranger (my Drugstore Cowboy doesn't count, even though after a year we still don't know shit about each other,) in a while.  As fun as the take-down-and-capture can be, I like to stick with my rotation.

The only real problem I have with the cock is the power it sometimes manages to exercise over me.  My sexual mentality is so much more male than female, (for lack of a better description; I hate to dumb it down by contrasting the males and the females.)

"What is my best option tonight?"
"Okay, -this one- is telling me he wants it later, but if that falls through, who can I have lined up?"
"Why isn't -that one- answering his fucking phone?"
"Sure, if I get woken up by -this one- I will crawl the fuck out of bed and be on his doorstep within a half an hour."
"Just because you succeeded in making my brains ooze out through my ears when I orgasmed doesn't mean I want to cuddle, baby."

I want it, I need it, I love it.  And I become a real bitch if I don't get it.