It’s so rare that they get to go out anymore

My neighbor Sterling* (and day care provider) was telling me how Tracy* was going to be staying with her & her husband that night so that Tracy’s mom & my Sterling’s son (they’re engaged) could get a night out alone. She was saying how they used to go out all the time but now that the wedding is getting closer they hardly get the chance to go out, limiting it to the weekend and sitters cost so much. I felt my heart sink. I’m Facebook friends with all of them, I know they get to go out every Friday and Saturday without said child, I know that Sterling watches her pretty much day in and day out. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve dropped my kids off to hear “ohhh sweetie be quiet Tracy is still sleeping” because she was still there from the night before.

Straight up y’all, I’m fucking jealous. My family is so fucking far away and even when we flew 1300 miles to meet at a “half way” point with a HUGE 3 bedroom & 3 bathroom timeshare so that they wouldn’t even have to pay for a hotel… they couldn’t fucking be counted on. It pains me to see Sterling exhausted after caring for a twit of a kid and how much Tracy’s mom & Sterling’s son use her precious time. I know she enjoys taking care of Tracy and I know she loves so much. It just hurts that we don’t have that.

It’s not so rare that they go out anymore, they go out every fucking weekend, they have on demand full time day care AND babysitting. My husband and I have gone out sans children in the last three years since our first was born for a total of 9 hours. Six when we were visiting friends on a trip back to California and my son stayed with my stepmom & sister for the afternoon and three while we saw Jeff Dunham after eating pizza with the friends that were watching the kids. That is it. To me THAT is RARE.

So when it comes to seeing my family say they miss me and how I need to “come home” I get mad thinking about it. I want to go home. I want to go back to what is familiar. I want a family support system. I want my kids to know their cousins and make amazing memories. I want my kids to have grandparents that care about them… but then I think… would they? If we moved 1600 miles, sold our home, fought for jobs that paid decent, RENTED because there’s no way we could afford a house there, changed everything…. Would they have that? Would they have family to play with? Or would they be too caught up in their own worlds? Would they have grandparents to care about them or would those grandparents be “done after all the other kids”?

I’m just. I’m jealous for me and sad for my kids, all at the same time.

 

*Names changed for privacy because stalkers exist and I don’t want anyone’s feelings to get hurt.

#election

My head is spinning

I’m confused

I’m disappointed

We used to be a nation that elected someone with a military background to know they’d been previously tested with acts of war. Someone with political background and connections with other countries to keep the peace in times of crisis.

We elected someone with neither of those traits whose own campaign won’t even allow him to go on twitter for his own good. God I hope he’s just going to be a Republican puppet.

But…

As someone who has had her pussy grabbed, been assaulted, been raped, and lived through it only to be blamed by others for the actions of “men”…

As someone who had to seek out a specialist to make sure my unborn kid didn’t have a fatal form of skeletal dysplasia and contemplate a “late term abortion” (a la 21 weeks) … and then fight insurance to make sure THAT appointment was even covered…

As someone who is about to deliver a child with a disability …

As a wife to an already mixed race man…

As mother to mixed race kids …

As a friend to those struggling as LGBTQ+ to be accepted for who they are…

As a woman…

As a United States citizen…

I’m fucking appalled by the choice that was made by HALF of my fellow citizens. HALF the people in America that voted (whether only for party lines or out of hate) said I don’t matter, my life doesn’t matter, my options don’t matter, my children don’t matter, my friends don’t matter.

My fucking father is becoming more and more of a bigoted, self-righteous, piece of fucking crap if y’all want my honest opinion, up until this past year I would defend my father to the fucking death… now, not so much, since he and his buddies are all white, elderly, elitist fucks along with the woman he cheated on my step-mother with and whom he is apparently now dating full-time… basically telling everyone that his guns and POTUS were reasons he voted for Trump. Awesome dad, your guns and the –possible- threat to them were more important than anything listed above, good to know. Never mind I have my own gun “collection” that I’m not the least bit worried about… Your superiority complex to anyone that isn’t white and over the age of 35 is more important than the option for your granddaughter to have not struggled for minutes outside the womb while doctors broke her ribs to relieve pressure only for her die moments later (this was the possible outcome if she had a fatal form of skeletal dysplasia), or for her to make her own choices later on in life regarding her own body.

I’m at a fucking loss for understanding. I was not and am not a Hillary supporter, I wanted Bernie, and was willing to settle for Johnson. But lesser of two evils!? I hope and pray that the families of the men who died in the Benghazi bullshit understand that they now mean more to our country than the following people (who are alive and terrified right now):

Women

Minorities

Muslims

Immigrants

Disabled

And the list goes on and on…

 

If you voted party lines, I hope you understand the amount of power you gave a weak and worthless human being. I hope it’s worth it to you when he does nothing to “better” the party or your life. I hope POTUS will stand for the constitution and not allow Trump to make changes that set us back 50 years, as if life in ND as a woman wasn’t already hard enough, trying to imagine this across the nation is, frankly, scary.

What I really want to scream is that I hope you experience all of the hate that Trump spewed out to everyone that isn’t you. I hope you get your pussy grabbed. I hope you feel you need to flee the country before feeling the full effect of the intolerance you helped your fellow man created. I hope you feel scared for no reason other than people don’t value you as a human being. I hope you are denied basic rights because of how you were born. But I can’t, not in good conscious, because I’ve experienced only a handful of those and I wouldn’t wish that fear and anxiety on my worst enemy let alone a stranger who (possibly – mindlessly) went along with party lines for fear of electing a Machiavellian President in the form of Hillary Clinton, because it was a debate for a hot second in my mind too. Until I realized that I was worth more than that, my friends, my family, those I love & care about, we’re worth more than a party line.

The only silver lining I can see is that at least our impending war won’t likely be with Russia as Trump is so busy kissing ass to a fellow dictator.

Regardless, I’m scared.

Ella

“Wow! We’ve gotten a lot of cleaning done this weekend”

These should’ve been my husband’s last audible words… because the “we” he was speaking of was nonexistent. Unless of course you count the fact that he finally put away HIS clothes that had been laying in a pile (of defiance on my part) for over a week while I wrangled a toddler while 30 weeks pregnant so that I could simultaneously sweep, mop & sanitize the kitchen & dining room floor before moving onto vacuuming and shampooing the living room and hallways. I’m sure he took a 45 minute shit somewhere in that 90 minute window as well.

While he started load #1 of garage sale dishes in the dishwasher I moved on to picking up and cleaning –all- of the toys in the living room, basement, and toddler room. Cleaning up the baby room and trying to see what can fit where and how to make it “work” with cloth diapering. Doing all the laundry, whites, towels, sheets, toddler, him, me, animals, clean washer, etc. Cleaning all the bathrooms, even with shitty ventilation, I know, my bad, got a little high. He was on load #2 when I was done with all that, when I asked what he was doing while washing machine was doing it’s job… “looking up how much we can sell this stuff for, do you know this ONE plate goes for $30 on ebay, I just watched it sell after three bids”… yes ladies and gentlemen, he was monitoring ebay for dishes I bought knowing I’d sell a few since we have zero need for 23 coffee mugs, 22 dinner plates, 20 salad plates, 25 bread plates, 19 saucers, 6 tea cups, gravy boat & tray, 4 serving platters, 4 serving bowls, you get the idea, it’s a large set.

Side note on this: I grew up with my grandparents mostly who had this set of Cornell that I later found out was called “crazy daisy” which made total since that my grandmother would’ve picked it out in the 70’s since her name was Daisy. It was the ONE thing I wanted when my grandparents went because that shit survived kids & teenagers for two generations, certainly it could survive in my house. Well, we moved, I packed up two boxes of the set and happily took them with me. My husband had a friend who needed help and we moved him in… only for him to screw us royally and make it clear that if a 40 year old doesn’t have his shit together, don’t let him move in with you to try to help him get his shit together… long story short, my two boxes went missing when he left… I was crushed. I scored a couple of small sets off ebay before last thanksgiving and it was perfect, and about $89 after shipping. The part about this set that makes me additionally happy is that my husband grew up with the exact same set, the first time he came over to help me clean up my grandparents’ house he did a double take in the kitchen and starting laughing. So when I saw that my neighbors had this huge, giant, colossal set of crazy daisy I didn’t even hesitate. She said “oh those? Make me an offer” $100! She laughs. $200! “that’s not why I’m laughing, how about $50 for the set?” … If I weren’t wearing my toddler on my back I would’ve been jumping up and down, while laughing at her terrible negotiation skills, I told her about my two small sets that I paid almost $100 for after shipping and started to beg her to take the $100… she didn’t but couldn’t believe they were worth anything… so yea… the husband doing research on them… I can see taking up some time.

But when you see me recruiting our toddler to help me drag laundry hampers down the stairs maybe get off your ass and help out instead of watching ebay.

I’m convinced he is only alive still because I was too exhausted to hide the body…

-Ella

PCOS & pregnancy

Generally these words don’t belong in a sentence together unless undermining each other. Like in the sentence; PCOS is the reason I’m not pregnant. Which is why I was using it as an “effective birth control method”, well that and my husband not being around, but that was normal with his job. I finally convinced him that his boss was a total douche bag and from what I’d heard around town a “snake in the grass”, that’s not a term you hear everyday and caused great concern for my husband. I found him a better (yet similar) company and did the application for him… ya ya ya… he knew I was doing it though so there’s that. Anyways, he gets the job and I get sick… dant dant dant… baby! While he wants to say this pregnancy arouse from him and his super sperm being around I’m going to give it up to the fact that I was getting healthy and my gut health was getting my PCOS in line. I had been doing research on gut health, and when I say “research” I mean google searches with credibly sourced medical reviews, about gut health after my doctor (who is THE leading specialist in ND for PCOS, mostly because she is the ONLY specialist in ND but that’s not the point) made a comment about how your gut is related to more than they previously considered. Fore most people with PCOS the problem lies with their sugar processing, often mistaken for diabetes since it usually leads to that. It was an offhand comment and something she wanted to look more into but thought that it was worth my time to find a good probiotic and start there, working towards reducing my sugar intake (mostly cutting down on processed foods) which I was all about!

I spent three months trying various 30 day supplies that were $60 and up per month until I said fuck it I’m cheap, I know I’m cheap someone in my mommy group has got to know of one I can get for cheaper. Lo and behold they did and I got an influx of testimonials on how great this ProBio5 is… fuck it, worth a shot. Here’s the kicker with me and any MLM type situation, I go ALL in because DISCOUNTS. So I signed up as an ambassador and all that good shit. I could probably link y’all to my page and get some sort of kickback from the company since you would be my customer, but eff that noise, that’s not why I’m taking this stuff. I’m taking it because it works and I love it and did I mention IT WORKS (hahaha pun intended for my friend that sells It Works stuff). I started dropping weight, my energy was up (until it wasn’t from being pregnant lol), and best of all my PCOS symptoms were disappearing. I didn’t have to shave my mustache, my skin was clearing up, and the kicker was my sex drive kicked up… thus the pregnancy. I saw that it was working but didn’t think for a second that it would help me ovulate. Found out later it was, obviously. So I’m not going to link you or tell you that THIS IS THE ONLY ONE THAT WORKS MY GOD YOU MUST GO GET THIS SPECIFIC ONE but if you think it’s worth a shot, then fucking give it a try, it’s less than a buck a day and that is a shitton cheaper than my fertility drugs were. If you have a friend selling Plexus products then hit them up, they are doing it because they want to have time with their family and that shit is totally respectable. I’m not going to link you to my page because while I have no shame that would be some shameless self promotion. If you find a probiotic out there that works and you feel good, then take that shit. Unlike my foray into essential oils this past year, you can’t get hurt taking a probiotic, it’s just good for your gut

My name is Ella and a probiotic got me knocked up.

When I was sick and gave up

I don’t know how this all happened, I really don’t, I mean I can list it out in order and say “yea that happened” but mentally I can’t wrap my head around how I went from “feeling it” to downright cheating. I remember being really excited about it and in the weeks leading up leaving for FL I felt REALLY good about running, like a legit feeling of “holy shit I can DO this” and totally proud of myself. Totally proud of how far Robin and I had come from like couch to 5k to this… like we could do this shit! My times were getting better, I was focused on my health and getting faster, and then I wasn’t.

I was feeling REALLY shitty and exhausted for no damn reason. Went to the doctor to discuss what was going on in my training since I was done with my physical therapy and my knee felt great …but now I was exhausted out of nowhere and what in the world is WRONG with me… am I dying? She laughed at me, we’re cool like that so don’t get the wrong idea, and jokingly (yet seriously) asked if I was pregnant. HA!! I have PCOS and it took $10k and countless drugs over the course of a year to have my son, not to mention my husband was gone like 6 days out of the week, there was no way… just no. She upped my dosage of anxiety meds and said to just enjoy my vacation, “if you finish you finish”, if not I’m doing better than 90% of the population who don’t even get five thousand steps a day. But I wanted to finish! I wanted to show that my 300+ pound ass could do it! I hold my weight well because while the scale says I’m 52% body fat, I know a good deal of it is muscle. I can lift like a MOFO people, especially with my legs and my back. I’m strong. I can do this…

All things I said until two weeks before the race when I puked during a training run one fateful Saturday morning. I took a pregnancy test on a whim, because why the fuck not, just reassure myself that everything was fine because the doc made her comment and it can’t possibly be an issue. Until it was and the two lines showed up. This must be faulty, I thought, too old to be accurate (we hadn’t been trying so these were all leftover tests from when we were TTC for my son)… I was concerned with the puking and the positive and immediately drove my svety ass to urgent care to get a blood draw confirmation…. Which was just that… confirmation that I was pregnant. SAY WHAT!? Was told to stop the anxiety meds and in the next 48 hours I broke out into hives, terrified I ate something wrong, I overhauled everything in our fridge, by Wednesday the hives were out of control and even my ears were swelling up. This is when the urgent care doctors explained I was having “stress hives”. Fun shit I didn’t know existed. PSA people, stress from an unexpected pregnancy just weeks before you leave for an expensive trip to do a run is some real shit. *the more you know*

 

I still ran, without anxiety meds and endurance drinks, worried about blowing up the way I did with my son I figured I needed to fight the fatigue and keep going. Which I managed to do pretty successfully, until the night before the race when I started puking from what I’m assuming was anxiety without the meds that I usually used to combat it. I had a game plan to pace myself with a friend I was meeting from Cali at the race. He had finished several races with his wife and figured he could help me pace with thousands of people around me. Here’s the thing I didn’t know about runDisney races and learned VERY quickly: corrals are just like farm corrals, you are pinned in with thousands of other people and no one gets a quick start, people slow down RIGHT in front of you, and people will cheer you as they fall behind you. We started the race and had a VERY slow first two miles, at which point we stopped in America at Epcot to drop a deuce. That whole having to poop while running, that shit is ALSO real…because I took the quickest mother of all dumps ever in my life! Noticed that others were stopping too and was so glad I got to the restroom before the line for stalls showed up. I was no fan to the crowded areas as they slowed us down even more but we did manage to stay in front of the “pacers”. Also something I learned about races, they have people that run AT PACE with ballons/t-shirts to let you know that if you’re behind them at the checkpoints (mile 3, 6, and 10 for this race) then you will be picked up and YOU DO NOT FINISH… long story short, if you’re behind them you’re going too fucking slow…. Guess who was behind them at mile marker 2… ME (well Steve too but that’s obvious). So my friend being the good friend that he is says “you’re pregnant just slow down and let them pick you up, you can run again later”. I love Steve, but that was not what I needed to hear. I told him to go on without me and started to walk. He ran like a zombie victim and got WAY ahead of the pacers. I walked for 2 minutes and said fuck it, I can run and I fucking RAN…got to the pacers and saw them just STANDING THERE… like wtf people. I just ran my ass off and y’all are just standing here?

They say, almost in unison, “we were going too fast” followed with the one saying “you’re still ahead of pace, and anyone that gets here in the next 8 minutes, so keep going girl you got this!” I jogged and saw Steve hunched over on the side of the now VERY open road. Amazing how the congestion clears up after mile marker 3… I told him my great news and encouraged him to stay with me… only to hear of his plan “I’m going to mile 5 or 6 then I’m going to cut across the highway and walk the rest of the way”… I argued with him as we jogged. I held my ground that we would finish this the right way and FINISH until mile 5 when the pacers passed us and I felt the urge to vomit myself… at mile 5.5 we pretended to stop at the port-a-potties and crossed to the other side (or as I like to tell myself, to the darkside), we were just as svety as everyone else was at their mile 11. We walked the rest of the way. Cheering others on and at one point stopping to sit on the benches. We waited until his brother in law came up (legit on his mile 12) and I went on with him while Steve waited for his wife to finish with her. I crossed the finish line and while people cheered me I felt like a total fucking failure.

A TOTAL FUCKING FAILURE

I waited for Robin and couldn’t wait to tell her how proud of her I was, because she LEGITIMATELY finished that fucking 13.1 mile run, on her own, kicking ass the entire way. Her strength and persistence is something that I admire about her and even that is a total understatement. I went back to our room and cried in the shower like a total fucking loser. My husband thought I was crying out of either being proud of myself or pain. I used pain (since my legs were on fucking fire) and regret as my reasons for crying. Sucked it up and went about my day. I haven’t been on the treadmill since we got home but that is going to change.

So while I didn’t “finish” finish I did walk a fuckton while in FL as seen by my fitbit report below

 

fitbitreport

So at least there is that. Word to the wise people. Don’t cheat. Totally not worth the feelings of loserdom, just admit that you’re done and tap out… crossing the finish line without earning it…. not cool. Only 5 people knew what really happened with me, they were the real support, while others congratulated me thinking I had done it… only made me feel shittier.

E

It’s a dozy of a rant for me

Warning: I sound like a whining little bitch in this post. But I’m over pretending that it’s okay here, these are my issues for the last three years that are only getting worse now that the oil has “left” ND, it hasn’t the price just dropped and people had to leave. Once the demand goes back up there will be plenty of PEOPLE coming back to help you further rape the land for money.

I am SO fucking over living in Bismarck middle of fucking nowhere North Dakota. Privacy blah blah blah. No fuck this shit. I can’t say that I haven’t met and connected with some WONDERFUL people who I want to stay in touch with, and would even come back to visit, while I have lived survived here the last few years. But this weekend, was the pinnacle of what I call ND racists ignorant cock-sucking xenophobic asshats or ND-RICXA (rick-a) for short. I swear to jebus I am the last one to judge people without knowing as much as I can about a situation, THEN I’m judgymcjudgster while being a total bitch.

So even though I came out here thinking “North Dakota Nice” that’s got to be a good thing, less people so less traffic, less legislative sessions so they must have their shit together (they only meet once every 2 years while taking over the largest chunk of parking at the capitol), people are flocking there and staying thanks to the oil stuff so it must be a good area to raise kids, and housing prices are only going up so buying a house early is an investment.

Simply put, I was a naïve moron.

I’ve come to find that the people I’ve connected with the most, are the people that moved here within the last 5 years from GA, NY, CA, AZ, and CO. I have the world’s best neighbors who are beyond words wonderful, they are from here, moved around with military and came back because to call the mans family large would be an understatement. Family is super important out here, but most people don’t give a shit about anyone else’s, because they are the only people who matter. These people I love to call world’s best neighbors care about everyone, they are loving, inviting, beyond helpful, just… they are just the best people ever. Every time we even think about moving the one pro of being here is them, like what would we do being away from family AND not having them? Generally our conversation doesn’t get much farther after that.

I was informed by co-workers that “North Dakota Nice” is a form of frenemies, and sadly I’ve had to experience it as well. My first month here I tried to tap into Mary Kay meetings, since I had done it back home and thought it would be a good way to meet people outside of work. We had our “breakout” meetings and after a few minutes of business it was Sarah saying “Stacy did you ever talk to your son about that sleep over?” “Yes we just had to find a reason to ground him so he couldn’t go, we don’t want to be the bad guys”, I’m curious and say, “is his friend a bad kid or something?”, “oh no he’s wonderful but we don’t really KNOW the family” UNDERSTANDABLE… but wait, “they have only been here a few years, they aren’t FROM here, so I don’t think they are all that trustable”… that was her fucking reasoning. Her kid was in 3rd grade so he has gone to school with this friend since kindergarten, she says they’ve had play dates but they aren’t fucking from here so they must not be good enough. So instead of address the issue of their bogus mistrust they play ND NICE. Most basic example that we’ve all heard before is to say your baby is cute and turn around and tell their friend how horrid you/your baby is/looks, etc. Down to the workplace, sabotage for jobs, shit talking, etc. ALL while to your face they are nothing but wonderful, these are people I would call chicken shit back in CA but out here, this is just how most people are, which is beyond frustrating because you can’t tell who is really your friend. I used to think I was a decent judge of character but damn these people are good actors.

Less people and less traffic is still true, along with less traffic meaning people don’t pay attention to shit around them and put others’ lives in danger on the daily. I used to drive 9.7 miles to work while living in Los Angeles, it took anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour depending on when I left, and three freeway changes. Here, I live in the pseudo suburb’s and (look it up) there are only two “freeways” in the entire states, which I call glorified highways. I drive less than a mile through “town”, take a freeway for a couple of exits, down a main street and into the parking lot. I thought “my god this is going to be amazing! I’ll be so calm when getting to work, so much less stress, it only takes 15 minutes max to get to work and that’s if it’s bad snow,….” Stupid stupid STUPID me…  I can’t even make it to the onramp without a heavy case of road rage. Blinkers aren’t used, and I was used to that, you can watch people driving and pay enough attention to see when they’re going to start merging, I basically lived my entire driving life anticipating others movements. Out here, it’s fucking impossible. We drive a pickup that most people here call a car because it’s not some heavy duty diesel, which 90% of the population apparently drives. They change lanes without notice, they slow down for no reason, sometimes they take more than two blocks to fully merge, they are usually eating, they don’t seem to care about laws saying you can’t be on your phone while driving (talk or text), they will change their minds at the last second and go from off ramp to fast lane, they turn right from the left hand lane, fuck one guy STOPPED right in front of me and then screamed at me that I was going TOO fast once we got to a 2 lane stop light. I was going 20 in a 25 with only him around, fucker. I say “they” because while this is all young and dumb driver shit that some of us (cough cough me cough) have done before, this is what happens on a daily, less than 5 mile commute, to me every. Single. Fucking. Day. I’ve been rear ended 18 times in the last 3 years. EIGHTEEN TIMES. We replaced the bumper once and then said fuck it, it’s only going to happen again, not worth the deductible.

I miss the traffic in LA because it was so congested that you couldn’t do this shit. Whenever we go home to visit I drive because I feel so good to be in “real” traffic. Every day my life is on the line with these dipshits, who claim to be the best drivers ever. I don’t claim to be but I certainly don’t endanger others every fucking day. I speed like crazy most days and I own it, I have a lead foot and the quicker I get away from these shitheads the better. By the way, a speeding ticket, or any ticket for that matter is LAUGHABLE. I was going 90 to Fargo (because that’s my closest goddamn Costco) in a 65 or 70… My ticket was $40, no points, well some points but their point system is ridiculous, so it doesn’t even matter until you get a DUI (which doesn’t fucking matter to most people anyways, pay your mediocre fine and move on, no jail time, no license revoked, etc) so yea. I’ve gotten 4 speeding tickets in the last few years: my insurance never goes up, nothing shows on my driving record, and I’m out all of $65 total.  Do I speed with tickets so cheap? Absofuckinglutely.

I’m not going to get myself started on the bullshit that is the legislation here. I will say that they are the least transparent state in the entire US because of all the bullshit fraud, kickbacks, etc. They are at least 50 years behind in EVERYTHING, last session they said abortion after a heartbeat was detected was illegal, aka PLEASE SUE THE FUCK OUT OF US BECAUSE WE DON’T “recognize” Roe v Wade AFTER ALL WE HAVE A SHITTON OF MONEY, oh wait, no we don’t, we have cutbacks for state employees who are already making just over minimum wage with the worst healthcare EVER. … yea, won’t get myself started.

Don’t come out here to raise your kids, the school systems SUCK, the homeschooled kids get a better education, and there are nowhere NEAR enough private school options. Also, good luck finding daycare, I had to put my son on list for YMCA when I was 8 weeks pregnant, almost two years later, he’s STILL on a list… even after they expanded to a new building… I have one conversation burned into my mind regarding my daycare. Again, sweetest people ever but our agreement was he goes in early and comes home a little early. My daycare lady does it out of her home and has a night job as a cleaner so they HAVE to leave by a specific time, we agreed happily because we love them and she was our only hope. This woman NEVER takes a day off, she is a machine, I want to be like her when I grow up. We went on vacation, two days in her mother dies, obviously she wants/needs to take a week off. We come home, I’ve used all my vacation time on the trip with one sick day left while my husband has 90 more hours to use. We agree he will stay home with baby after the first day since I can stay home that day. He tells his boss before we even come home that he will need to miss a few days, he walks into work and while on the phone with me (baby is now sick, we have one car, needed him to come swap with me at lunch) tells his boss “I’m only here today but I can take my laptop home and work while baby is sleeping” asshole boss says “that’s fine, but why are you taking so much time?” (TWO DAYS) husband “our daycares mother died and she needs the week off” this is what is burned in my head forever: boss says “is she working for you or are you working for her?”… husband just walks away and quickly gets off the phone with me. WHAT THE FUCK DUDE… who says that? Long story short, if you don’t have family to rely on, one of you better stay home with kiddos until they are in school because everyone else here has HUGE families so when johnny is sick or daycare isn’t there everyone else just steps up and if you don’t have that system, well, sucks to be you.Especially if you’re a dude, because why doesn’t your wife just stay home? This is the reason I had no sick time left fucker, I WAS STAYING HOME when baby was sick.

We bought a house just before the bubble of housing hit so we got a decent deal, shitty land, but decent layout. Then we pumped $30k into the house to ‘finish’ it and we’re up so I can’t complain. I will say that this is what sparked my rant, we wanted to refi at year 2.5. Our credit scores are on point, we pumped equity into the home, house prices went down but still way above what we paid, not much on credit (thus the good scores) and we had full time “secured” jobs that we held for three years. All signs point to EASY approval. I met with loan guy at our credit union who gave me the all clear and set up an assessment  saying “once we get this back your husband can come in and look at your options”, GREAT. I’m white as can be, I’m mostly German, one would think I fit in since I’m a fucking chameleon at blending into a culture and community. He was hesitant but nice enough, see ND Nice for example. I get the call to come in, bring your husband. I need to point out that my husband was the one to let the assessor into the house and made a comment about my husband being native, he’s not but why does that matter… I find out later… Less than two minutes after walking in with my husband it was a “well I wish I could make this work but the loan amount just won’t be high enough” I look at the copy of the appraisal, they shorted us a full bedroom and bathroom. I point this out and he says “well, it’s up to the appraiser and that’s what they have so that’s what they go off of”, I ask what type of business they are working with, the answer, “we hold discretion on what types of loans we work with and this one won’t work, we wish you luck, and since we’re not going to issue the loan you will have to cover the fee for the assessment which is $600, would you like us to pull from your checking or send you an invoice”… I was FUMING. I contact an attorney friend of mine who looks into discrimination, he pulled some information on the demographics the bank is working with… 98% WHITE customers. Do I have a case, yes, will I win, NO. fuck my life.

This is what started my fury. I knew that we were treated as outsiders. I know that the go-to statement after anything negative is mention on the news is something along the lines of “well, you know it’s all those terrible people coming in from all over that are causing all these problems””the cold winters usually keep the riff-raft out”. These were the exact statement from a woman a cubicle over from me within the first two weeks of starting my job. From then on I tracked it, because I’m a fucking nerd with anger issues. The result up to last weeks “attack on a mother in a mall” (read that as dumbass 20-something pissing off her ‘friends’ and getting smacked around while holding her two year AS A FUCKING SHIELD)… all the comments on the article were around black trash, outsiders, etc… whatever, trash is trash but these women have been here since they were in elementary school… if your oh so wonderful community couldn’t help them “adapt” then fucking take on some blame yourself. It’s always a “they weren’t born and bred here”, “typical outside trash wrecking everything”, “We used to be the country’s best kept secret”, etc etc etc. This is pretty much in EVERY article, the news will only state if someone is a Bismarck Native if it’s a good story and lets everyone assume that something bad is only done by an “outsider”, which only enrages me more.

The results, sorry I sidetracked there, are that 97% of the “bad stuff” is perpetrated by a born and fucking bred NORTH DAKOTIANS. Do you hear that you complaining dumb-fucks of ND, NINTY-SEVEN PERCENT OF ALL THE BAD SHIT IS DONE BY YOUR “OWN PEOPLE”. Even when I shared the spreadsheet complete with links to public information on the people being born in ND (I spent entirely too much time on hospital searches for birth announcements, but I do have software at work that makes it a little easier to find people) and crickets, they blow past it saying “your information must be off”… NOPE you just don’t like being called out on your bullshit.

And I get it, you don’t want to see your “own” as bad, you want to blame some external force, but you can’t, it’s not going to work forever. At some point you have to own up that people here fucked up, not people coming here thinking (and wanting to believe) they will be accepted as decent human beings….

I know this is like a novel of a rant (about four pages now) but I’m just done with being here. I’m done with the backstabbing, I’m done with worrying that my son won’t have any real friends because their parents are fucking dickwads, I’m done feeling like a complete outcast when there is NOTHING different about me other than where I’m from and my character of not participating in the bullshit they love. I’m done feeling so much fucking hate in my heart towards people who could be decent human beings if they weren’t so xenophobic. I’m done with my son being called DARK like it’s a bad thing just because my husband is a Mexican mutt (I say mutt with love because according to ancestry he’s got a little of EVERYWHERE in him) when he’s barely even olive toned. I’m sick of feeling so down all the time because my family and most of my friends are so fucking far away and I can’t blame anyone for not wanting to visit the place that I refer to as frozen over hell. I’m done with everyone saying “come home” when I know my husband’s family is the reason we won’t. I’m done not having a Costco within a 2 hour drive. I’m done shopping at Walmart for my groceries because that’s the only semi-affordable option since the ONLY chain of grocery stores out here has the monopoly and charges VONS prices for food-4-less quality.

I’m done being at the point of my happiness resting on getting the fuck out of this place and encouraging others to do the same so they can go back to being the best kept secret for a fucking reason. Bismarck is a fucking pandora’s box, that’s why nobody wants to talk about it. I’m done trying to see the good in this place when I’m surrounded with negativity.

I’m done ranting now too. Going to get back to working out and eating better to feel good.

On a happy note, I did a HIIT run and it didn’t kill me! Going to have to keep that shit up!

Ella

I’ll attach some screen grabs from a news outlet here in Bismarck to show that I seriously can’t make this shit up. The issue was 4 “women” were pissed about a post their “friend” made and straight out attacked her while she held her toddler at the mall. One elderly gentleman stepped in and was hit as well. Everyone just walked by like “nothing to see here”. Some of the responses are people I know feel my pain in being here but the second I post something like that I’ll get the “go home then, we don’t want you”… here’s the shots (keep in mind a LOT of people deleted their comments when they were called out, I should’ve taken more sooner) screenshotsbullshitbismarck

 

I might need an alibi

U.G.L.Y. You ain’t got no alibi you ugly, eh, hey you ugly

Sorry, anytime I hear the word alibi I think of that damn song.

Here’s the thing. I am now completely convinced that my husband either has a death wish or wants me to fail miserably at this fucking 1/2 deal. I  am set to run three days a week, Tuesday and Thursday for 20-45 minutes and Saturday for mileage. For the most part, I’ve kept up that schedule with PiYo on M/W/F and weights on Sunday…then I got sick and I would go like one day of massive workouts, 2 PiYo’s, four miles, and weights… and then get sick again…

He’s been okay about Saturdays, he’d take our little guy out to the library, the zoo, lunch whatever, to get out of the house and wear the little guy down so he would nap when he got home right after eating lunch. Then it got cold and my husband turned into a little twat, “it’s too cold out to go anywhere”. Really dude, too cold for you to get into the car that is in our heated garage and go drive with the heater on as you head into a place that 9/10 will have heated underground parking. You will never actually BE outside… REALLY? Because then it is just SOOO much work to entertain our child while I’m in the other room for 1-3 hours… let’s be real. I never get more than 1.5 hours. *sigh*

This week, this week makes me question the motives, either he wants to die or he wants me to fail and I’m not totally convinced either way. I finally got my (oh TMI warning before I go too far) period (59 days late) along with a round of food poisoning.

Monday I was off work, he went to work, little guy went to day care, Mommy stayed home and got in a decent workout with a run. Progress report I’m currently at an “almost dying but still surviving” pace of 15:48, if I can keep this up and improve then I should be able to finish this damn run without the Disney Police picking my ass up at one of the mile markers. All was well and right in the world. I even got some school stuff done. yay me

Tuesday I go to work, eat my “this will help me lose some weight and be healthy” soup for lunch… I got about half way through it when I started rifling through the trash can to check the date. It didn’t taste bad, but was making my tummy upset… nope good til aug 2016.. we’re good… oh wait I feel… sick… to the bathroom. Hey check it out. PERIOD showed up… maybe that’s why I’m not feeling so hot. Doctors did say it was going to be a period from hell… yes, that’s why. back to desk. 10 minutes before I leave for the afternoon I proceed to puke at my desk. Haven’t done that since I was pregnant, THAT’s how urgent that shit was for me. go home obviously not going to run so I get child from daycare, hold it together while calling my dear sweet loving husband telling him he needs to get his ass home asap… he couldn’t hear me “text me babe”… my text “get your ass home asap, I’m dying to sit on the toilet to shit my brains out while puking into the trashcan that is lined with diapers you forgot to empty. I cooked nothing please get food for kid and you because the smell of food is only making it worse” response “ok, will do”… he worked LATER than normal. no text, no call. Get’s home, I hand him the remote for Paw Patrol dvd and head to the bathroom as I hear “What am I supposed to feed him?” from down the hall… I text… chicken nuggets, follow directions on bag, turn on fan… then I started clocking it. He would walk down the hall, open the door to our bedroom, peak into the bathroom and either say nothing, sigh heavily and walk out or ask “are you done yet?”, sigh heavily and walk out… want to guess… take a guess how many times he did that

 

I can wait

 

 

well, you’re reading this so no one is really waiting

 

18 times in ONE FUCKING HOUR. I got up, grabbed the pepto I asked him to bring me at entry #8, head downstairs with that and my Epsom salt. I took a hour long bath downstairs, why you ask, why go downstairs. Well my loves, because my husband is a grade A lazy ass… he’ll walk back and forth down the hall all goddamn day… but go downstairs, well, that’d mean he would have to go back UP the stairs. And if our kid saw him go downstairs WITHOUT going with, he’d lose his shit. (The jumper is downstairs, along with the other toys that he loves that drive me up the wall so we keep them out of sight out of mind). I was left alone to feel like an evil genius. Epsom salt and a drop or two of lavender is GREAT for cramps and nausea by the way. I start to feel better, make my little man a bottle for bed and head to my room. Husband had to put the baby to bed, so sorry dear… whatever. He comes to bed bitching and moaning that “he was really in a mood tonight”. I faked being asleep.

Wednesday – I feel BETTER. like MUCH better. cramps are no joke, but I feel good. Due to one car household he has to go home get baby and then come get me from work. I offer to call in for a pizza from a lovely artisan place in town. He agrees only after asking, “will you be joining us for dinner or hiding in the bathroom all night again?”. I KNOW RIGHT? How is he not dead or verbally assaulted lol I kid I kid, but seriously, I was boiling… if anyone is “hiding” in the bathroom it’s him and his bejewled game during a 45 minute shit after I’ve asked him to do something. Y’all know that “oh yea I’ll do that, right after I poop, I have to go to the bathroom right now” line…  gah… I say, “maybe I can get a run in tonight since I feel better” response “well if you need a reason to hide again I guess”. so of course I don’t because at that point he’s handing me my child….

get home and he’s going on and on about how “difficult” it was dealing with our son alone… oh you mean like I do when you’re out in the field five days a week? *sigh* so yea. I go to bed at 9, play on my phone and pass out at 10. He didn’t finish whatever movie or game he was playing til about 1130… Baby wakes up WIDE AWAKE wakes up at 3am… he whines, not the baby MY HUSBAND, “I need sleep, can’t you deal with him” … oh because I don’t need sleep… SURE… fucker. Background, once I’m up, I’m UP, there is no go back to sleep for me. Him, get up, piss, drink water, snack, whatever, plop back down and snoring away in less than 5 minutes… we know this about each other. And yet. I’m the one that got up with our child at 3 fucking am… tried to get him back to bed, he wasn’t having it.

Now technically Thursday – We ended up watching Elmo in Grouch-land while coloring until the husband woke up, all ten minutes before the alarm was set to go off and comes out to say “do you want to go back to sleep I can stay with him now?” … insult to injury dood…

So after all that loveliness, I might need an alibi… as I can only imagine what this weekend is going to be like with him. Anyone else have a husband that travels for work and while they are gone you want them home to help, but when they are home for more than a couple of days you want them gone because they are zero help?

Pray for me

Ella

Well shitballs

Let’s be clear that not only does weather with small (and possibly overactive toddler) make it nearly impossible to run outside. … it also spreads all kinds of germs so you can’t breathe, let alone breathe while running.  Thus I haven’t been running more than once every one to two weeks since my fall in December.  We are now less than 90 days away from the runDisney event and I’m in full on freak out mode. Add to that anxiety the fact that I don’t own a bathing suit (why would I, ain’t nobody wanna see this mess) and the anxiety heightens. So what do I do. ..
I use my real woman dollars at LB and get a $130 set for $54…. side note. Anyone else find it a little ironic that LB is short for Lane Bryant where us larger (and often taller) ladies shop. I always feel like I’m walking into an over eaters anonymous meeting (not joking I’ve gone to those it’s the feeling walking in that I’m referencing) as this giant “pounds” sign is over my head.
So I have this goal suit, we shall call it MY yellow polka dot bikini. For fucks sake even when I was fit (like 5’11” SD size 8 with a damn 4 pack after little effort) I didn’t dare wear a bikini,  thank you psycho mother for those projected body issues…. so I have this “sorta cute” blue “2 piece” that is basically a tank top with actual boob support and a “skirt”…. I got it in my current size with the hopes that it’ll “move like it’s meant to” in the next 60 days. … cause right now. …it’s a weeeee bit tight.
Okay it’s barely making it over my butt….
So

Belly sags from extra weight and shifting of fat after baby…. gotta fix that as spanx somehow missed the bathing suit for plus size market.

Being good about eating choices and working out every damn day… Even if it’s just stretching with the little guy.
Today it was PiYo core and 10 minute run. I’ve been stuck at a 17 minute mile since October so today’s at what would’ve been 16 minutes was great. I would’ve done the whole mile for tracking purposes but I was already late for pickup at daycare…. cause “work on me” only comes by flexing at work. Sigh

Pray for me to finish. I just want to finish without being carted in by a “cast member”….
#highgoals

Ella 

Well let’s never do THAT again

 

With roughly 120 days until death, I mean our ½ marathon, I figured I should share an update. I’m not doing so hot but keep reading (please).

I did a 5k, in North Dakota, in December, because I’m a moron. Here I thought, “Hey, we could finish in less than 3.5 hours I need to get a time in so we can get in like the fun corral!” or something like that. Robin won’t admit it but she’s a Speedy Gonzales and is already doing like 10 minute miles without killing herself. So it’s me that needs to catch up. She needs consistency, I need to get my lazy ass in gear. So I –was- running two days during the week, thanks to a decent flexing schedule and day care covering my ass, with one long run on the weekend. I say long, but really it just means I go for x distance. So I was doing 20-30 minutes “training” runs and then 2-6 miles on the weekend. I can survive. I will survive… but currently at the pace I’m going the Disney police will be carting my ass off the course and I won’t be a “finisher”… their rule is if you are slower than a 16 min/mile you are too slow to finish “on time” and are therefore disqualified from finishing… here I thought just making it to the finish line is what matter but, this is Disney World and they have a park to open with money to be made… so fuck me.

As if that rule alone didn’t sting… there’s this 5k. A “Santa run” all in good fun.

It was not fun

There were Santa’s

There was running

But there was no fun from my point of view, which was more often than not, from the ground. You see, here in the godforsaken land of North Dakota, there is ice… everywhere. The organizers told us that they “did the best” they could in clearing the tracks “but this is North Dakota and we run anyways, just try to be careful”… because being “careful” while RUNNING ON ICE is totally doable right?

Look, I know I’m not graceful, I’ve accepted that. But I WAS TRYING MY BEST NOT TO FALL AND FUCK ME I FELL EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME.

Like when I was walking.. I was fine… but I needed to get a time in and the path was all of 5 feet wide for the 430 people on the course so if you got stuck behind someone you’re stuck until the next junction….

I swear to Jesus, I was trying to get a decent time, my 300 pound self was chugging along at a 4 mile pace and staying JUST under my heart rate range limit… and as I would try to up it… I fell… then I’d have to walk until I recovered enough to feel up to running (or until I could get past some group of people laughing and talking about dinner plans)…. Then BAM on my ass again.

On my ass

On my knee

On my elbow, that hurt the worst.

ON MY BACK landing on a fucking rock that knocked the wind out of me and totally fucking embarrassed me as people stopped to make sure I was okay… and then keep running themselves. Which I appreciated, that was really nice of them to stop but still…

And I was FINE with the falling and the pain and the fucking torture of people LEAVING while I was still running because god dammit I was going to finish this with a decent time

I could’ve cheated and finished 6 minutes faster by doing only one loop instead of two in the final section… but I have morals … fucking morals.

SO I get to the finish line ready with my little stub of a paper to hand them so they can record an “official time”… at 53:15 so like 17 minute mile… THERE are groups of people taking pictures and a load of fucking people inside the building that was hosting… but no one at the line… so I walk inside, they hand me a giant fucking candy cane and say “great job you finally made it”… brush it off Ella, they don’t know what it took to get here… brush it off…. I ask “where do I turn in my stub to submit my time, there was no one at the finish line” this baffled woman says “I think they’re done with that part you could go ask them over there”… them over there… okay.. fine… I get this three times… three fucking times… I finally find the table where they are listing out the winners for each category and say, “who do I give this to so I can get my time recorded for online listing”.

I shit you not these words are forever fucking burned into my head:

“We only had someone taking the stubs until about 42 minutes, all the real runners where done long before that and we don’t have enough staff to get everyone that was walking”

How I’m not sitting in a jail cell right now I don’t fucking know.

I was fucking crushed. I know my time wasn’t going to get me into any kind of corral but I wanted something to show SOME improvement and I couldn’t believe someone would say that. The kicker, they had over 100 volunteers… four of which were within the last 30 feet of the finish line high fiving everyone as they passed… but not enough people to have someone scribble some numbers on a piece of paper…

Had I known… my first fall was maybe ten feet from my truck and I went alone, nothing was stopping me from just getting the keys out of the bed of the truck and leaving… nothing… but me. I could’ve gone home and ran in the comfort of my perfectly heated home and only had that one fall under my belt. No embarrassment. No one knew who I was. No one cared if I left. No one was “counting on me”. Like why the fuck didn’t I just leave? Had I not fallen all those time I really do think I could’ve done a 13-14 minute mile, ice and all, fucking HILLS and all. Fun fact, the incline in different areas was so steep my fitbit thought I did 17 floors…

I keep telling myself that had I known the time wasn’t going to matter I would’ve left right then and there, because that was the one that knocked the wind out of me… I don’t think anyone would’ve talked shit for me leaving after that one…

Sigh

So I send email to my doctor the next day because oh now I can’t even fucking walk… like it hurt to stand my legs were so sore. I can’t run until, well this week now, as that was almost three weeks ago. Loads of ibuprofen and positive reading and some yoga and now I think I’m okay to get back into the groove.

But I learned my lesson, never fucking again am I running in the snow/ice with a group that can’t get their shit together enough to record EVERYONE’S TIME.

 

#rantover

ELLA

This girl is on FI-YAAAAAAAAAAAA

Reasons I want to be a MILF

  1. Something about engaging in my marriage and being a piece for him or some shit like that.
  2. Something about being healthy to live long for my child, so I can keep up or some nonsense.
  3. School girl crush syndrome …

Yea… that’s pretty much it. Mostly the school girl crush thing… can’t lie.

Background:

Let’s call them Vinny & Smellson… I never did, but let’s pretend those are their names. Here’s the thing. If my wonderful and blissfully ignorant husband drops dead there are two people I would try to go after, TWO… that’s it. Not interested in meeting someone new, looking forward to the future blah blah blah. Nope, I want to pick up where I left off with two people I never dated in the first place.

I’m lame. Easy to see that, right? But with Vinny I get fucking butterflies and giddy beyond belief, to the point that I can’t even think straight. He made a reference one time to a movie that I could quote every line from start to finish, but guess what, he made the reference and I blanked. Think deer in the headlights blanked. Then for the next three weeks I just played that moment back thinking HOW DID YOU MESS THAT UP!!?!?! Gah… whatever, that happens every time I see him, granted last time was like 4 years ago but still… He’s that guy that I’ll never have but damn the man do I think about him like a LOT.

When it comes to Smellson, it’s a connection. It’s there, I see it, and not sure he ever saw it. Pretty sure he stopped talking to me because I started dating the husband when we were “hanging out more”. He made a comment once of “being respectful to a relationship”, I should’ve snapped back that it’s called DATING, not a relationship just yet. But yea. I miss him. I would’ve married him in a heartbeat but he never even had the balls to date me. He could ask me to move with him and “adventure in the Midwest” but not to fucking date me… Meh, that probably would’ve come if we did move… but I started dating other people and he decided to stay in CA so that never happened… and then look what happens, I end up in the fucking Midwest anyways… kill me now please. What’s funny is he was really getting into fitness when I was leaving, I think I’d be a MILF by now had we gotten together. Damnit!

Now back to the present:

A week or so ago I saw Vinny post something to social media about doing the Kessel Challenge, and laughed because who doesn’t love a star wars reference…. And then I thought… I wonder if that has to do with the runDisney stuff… meh… think nothing of it. Then I see him posting at dive bars in Orlando… what the what? Are you doing a half at Disneyworld right fucking now… omg…. Quick TO THE INTERNET! Sure as shit, if he runs a half/full at Disneyland (where we’re from so that’s feasible) and then the star wars half/full at Disneyworld (where Robin & I shall be) he’ll complete the challenge.

I stay silent on social media while doing the stiffest happy dance for the CHANCE to run into him in Orlando… the fucking CHANCE makes me giddy. How lame is that!?

So immediately I go from 0-90. I was just scrolling through Instagram before bed, but now, no no no… no sleep for me. Its meal planning and workout prep. I ordered cooling towels from amazon (smile.amazon of course) and then some healthy “run” snacks. I have my meals planned out for this week, including lunches. I have my workouts and runs scheduled and ready to go. I started three “challenges” on fitbit with some friends to make sure I’m at least hitting my 10k steps on my cross training days. I went shopping and spent an hour or so chopping, slicing, cooking and packing to make sure my fridge is littered with healthy-ish options for snacking and eating (which is hard because baby don’t like soup so I have to cook separate meals for him).

WHY the sudden boost in motivation… reason #3. The chance to see someone who makes me smile just by proximity. We hug, that’s how we greet. I’m a hugger that is just how I am. To clarify, I would never cheat, this is just so that I can know that I’ll feel good while possibly being around someone that makes me feel like a moron.

I want to know that if I see him at say, mile marker 10, that I will still be: breathing, upright, and not a wobbly fat mess.

Goal SET! I’m ready for this shiz!

Ella