Me, lately

I am so tired of unloading my dishwasher. I hate it so much. I feel like my head is always inside that motherfucker. Along with sweeping, vacuuming, wiping counters and picking up toys. These are the things that fill my days and I am growing very tired of it.

Ruby will NOT poop on the potty.  No matter what I do. No matter what I try. She asks for a diaper every time she has to go.

I hate my new haircut.

When I did my taxes I was getting $575 back. I already owed $300 from a mistake made last year. I have been waiting for the difference for 3 weeks now.  I need money so bad.  I just discovered that my taxes were "reassessed" and I now owe a total of $635. 

Every penny I get goes to bills and food.  When Steve adds extra cheese to his veggies I want to scream. And when Ruby says she wants applesauce and then when I open it she won't eat it because she says it's "dirty" I want to cry.

I bought Nabob coffee because it was on sale and I hate the taste of it. I haven't had a cup of coffee in the morning for over a week.

I bought my mom some nice birthday presents and called her on her birthday but she didn't have a nice day anyways, I guess because my dad is sick and he didn't do anything nice for her.  I feel responsible, like I should have done more because I knew he'd fuck it up. 

My bathroom is filthy.

I bought cheap shampoo and now my head is itchy and my hair is dry and frazzled.

My bank account is wayyyyyy too far into the red. It makes me feel sick.  I can't even afford to buy myself a cup of coffee.

I feel like I'm failing at everything right now. Every single thing.

I'm depressed and I just want to be alone, but my kids hang off me and won't leave me alone for a second to release my tears in peace.

Slump

Been feeling a bit tired and blue lately and can't quite put my finger on exactly what it is.  I guess it's probably a combo of a few different things.

My birthday is this Saturday.  My Mom's birthday is on Monday.  My Dad's 60th birthday is the following Saturday. And then Mother's Day is that Sunday.  Busy time.  And expensive.  And I'm broke. And not a lot of time to shop. 

Want to hear my selfishness?  I just want to enjoy my birthday and not have to worry about planning and shopping for everyone else.  I feel terrible for feeling that way.  It's just that I haven't had a decent birthday in quite a few years.  Last year I was hugely and most uncomfortably pregnant. The year before that I had a 4 month old baby. The previous year I was disgustingly nauseous and pregnant. And the year before that I was in a severe depression after my first failed IVF.  Not to mention this past year has been a really rough one. I just want to be a princess this year but there are other people to think about and consider.  I'm tired and overworked and worn out and I just want to be selfish and only think about myself. 

Otherwise I'm getting tired of being stuck in my house every day. I usually don't have a vehicle and my getting out depends on the weather - which has really sucked for a really long time.  Lots of rain and cold air.  Hard to take the kids out in the stroller in those conditions.

Happy note - I've lost 20lbs on Weight Watchers.  Still lots to go though and sometimes I just want to eat and not worry about trying to be healthy.  Also, since dropping some weight my clothes don't fit. I have nothing but oversized sweat pants to wear which is normally ok since I don't get out much.  But on the odd occasion that I do go out, I have nothing to wear and feel frumpy and not overly attractive.  No extra cash in my pocket to get new clothes, and scared to buy anything because I plan on losing more weight.  What to do. I just want to feel good about myself. 

Worried about Lincoln.  He's really into making strange with people who aren't me or Steve.  It is difficult and annoying and frustrating and also quite embarrassing. He screams bloody murder if I leave the room and he is with someone else. He will not calm down and his freakout escalates until I return.  I don't know how to fix this and I am worried about what hell we are going to go through when I go back to work in June.  This one keeps me up at night.  Suggestions?

I suppose these are the trials and tribulations of being a mom of a 10month old and a 28 month old.  Nobody said it would be easy, I know that.  Just in a bit of a slump and trying to work it out so we can all be happy. 


PS: On a really positive note, Steve and I are doing much better. He has changed so much in the past few weeks and I'm so thankful and happy for it. 

On the Rocks

How I wish I was talking about cocktails... 

My last post is almost embarrassing considering how far I've gone from any positive feeling in my core in a very short time. 

Having two young babies so close together is very hard on a marriage.  Having your husband's father die is also very hard on a marriage. 

We've been distant. Bitter. Sad. Angry. Distraught. Frustrated.

Or at least I have been. I am only guessing that Steve has been too.  I wouldn't be able to say for sure because he does NOT talk about things. Not about anything.  It's hard for me.  Particularly hard since I am in my house with two kids 2 and under for most of the day. My only means for transportation is usually a stroller.  When it rains - which it does a lot here on the West Coast in winter/spring - I am literally trapped here inside my four walls.

I get lonely.  I crave support, love, discussions, kind words, emotional progress.  But when Steve gets home from work he's not able to provide much of any of those things. 

I have felt that he's been harboring resentful or angry feelings towards me.  There has not been a kind word offered. There is no touching. No kiss on the cheek.  No hugs.  Communication only when absolutely required.  And even then, it's been cold. 

I have been figuratively banging my head against the wall. Not sure what to do.  I've tried everything to get him to give it up. Talk. Tell me what I've done wrong. Tell me what's bugging him. He was maintaining that everything is "fine". When asked if he'd go to marriage counseling his response was "absolutely not" - even though he has been seeing a grief counselor to process his dad's death.

Hopefully I'm not sounding too martyr-ish when I say I have given my everything, my all, all my energy and then some, all my emotions, all my goodness - my EVERYTHING to try to be supportive to him and his family, to be a good mother, to be a kind and loving wife - during a really bad time.

However I've been feeling like, to him, I am not worth an effort on his part.  I have felt taken for granted. 

The other day an email exchange started between myself and my BIL's girlfriend (SIL) as we planned out our MIL's birthday dinner that was to take place this Saturday.  Well, as we started going back and forth with our emails, things started to come out. We started talking about the things that have been bothering us.  Things that MIL has been doing that have been making our lives very difficult. How our spouses are completely absorbed by her and her grief and how they dote on her and her occasional dramarama.  My BIL is the executor to the will and he had told SIL about some financial issues which she was supposed to keep silent about.  She confided in me in those emails. Honestly it felt good to have someone to talk to. Someone who understands what I'm going through, who is going through something very similar to me and who knows all the players in the game.  Someone to relate to. Someone who was willing to offer a sympathetic ear. 

Sometime in the afternoon my phone rang.  It was SIL.  She said, "Steve's been reading your emails".

In typical Steve fashion - instead of calling me and discussing it, he called his brother.  Told him what we were talking about, essentially ruining two relationships instead of just one. 

Steve feels that SIL and I are vindictive, evil women who hate his mother. 

I have explained that I do not hate his mom.  Not even close.  In fact I don't like some of the things she does.  And I said nothing in my emails that I haven't already said to him. 

He told me he's been watching me for a while.  Reading my emails and my tweets. He says he knows I talk about him "behind his back". He told me he didn't love me anymore and has been thinking of leaving me for a while. 

I explained that what I occasionally say about him on twitter is my way of communicating - in a joking fashion - to like minded friends who can relate to me.  Everything I tweet is out in the open and I would never say anything malicious abut him.  But he felt otherwise. 

Likewise with my email exchange with my SIL.

Besides having to explain and defend myself, I am furious and upset and devastated that my husband has betrayed me and violated my personal life. My personal conversations. My privacy. I am broken hearted that we are in that place.

Obviously there was a lot more detail than this but I care not to get into it.

My BIL and SIL are pretty much done.  This was the straw the broke the camels back for them.  Why Steve had to involve my BIL I don't know but it was a bad move.  My SIL is/was really, really mad at Steve.  He apologized to her and she did not accept his apology - which made things worse for me because I know it bothered him but... of course... he wouldn't talk about it. And also, she is my friend and I feel somewhat responsible for what's happening to her on her end of this mess.

To make a really long story a little less long - I had a really big breakdown.  Reiterating all the stuff I've been saying to him over the past few months. 

He told me he'd make an effort to be a better husband.  That he was going to make big changes.

The next day he got off work early. I had errands to run (since I offered to take a birthday lunch/cake to MIL the next day since her dinner at BIL and SIL's was cancelled) I managed to talk to SIL and we decided to meet for a beer with another girlfriend.  Steve said it was no problem. I brought him a 6 pack of beer before I met the girls and told him I'd bring dinner home.  I was out for a couple of hours. I sent him a text asking if he was doing ok with the the kids.  He didn't respond.  I called him. He didn't answer the phone. 

When I was on my way  home he finally answered. He was short with me. I asked what he would like for dinner and he said he already ate - even though it was just dinner time. 

When I got home he was back in that bitter, quiet mode. He'd obviously had a hard time with the kids. I know he was frustrated. *I* know what that is like - it is my daily life.  He was in a bad mood and quickly so was I.  We started to argue again.  It escalated.  Really escalated. It got ugly. I pushed him to the limit. I knew I was doing it but couldn't stop myself. I wanted him to react to me in some way. I couldn't take the passive aggressiveness anymore. I was so desperate I was willing to take the aggressiveness without the passiveness.

He lost it. I lost it. His eyes were dilated and he was in such a crazed state that I've never seen before. I was scared and mad and sad and very hysterical. Our yelling woke Lincoln from his sleep. Ruby... my precious, intelligent Ruby saw and heard everything.  For that, I will NEVER forgive myself. I even have a difficult time typing it out.  I HATE MYSELF when I think about her big blue eyes staring at me laying on the floor bawling. HATE. MYSELF.

HATE.

Steve ended up leaving. Saying he wouldn't be back for two weeks and I would be hearing from a lawyer.  He returned a short time later when he had called his mom and she wouldn't come pick him up...

In a panic I called my SIL who came over and took Steve downstairs and had a really big talk with him while I cuddled Ruby in bed.

Eventually things calmed down and SIL left.

Steve and I slept in the same bed, with Ruby in the middle. I layed my head on his chest and sobbed. (Ruby was deeply sleeping by then).

Now... now... Steve has once again said he is going to try to be a better husband.  And I'll admit today has seen an improvement.  But there is some heavy underlying tension.  I am afraid to be anything less than smiling and happy even though my heart aches so badly. 

We have been torn apart and we need to rebuild. I just hope we have the ability to do it without ruining ourselves.  I know that my kids may see us argue again but they will NEVER again see anything so obnoxious as Friday night's events.  I grew up seeing that over and over and over. That was my childhood. It's not theirs.  It will never be theirs. I promise.

Steve's dad's death has done more damage than I thought it would. And my efforts to help and nurture and care for Steve have been sadly, futile. I cared for him the way I would have wanted to be cared for in such a situation. I've never been through a family member's death before and I did what I thought was best. 

I desperately want to have a happy life, a happy marriage. I deserve it. I deserve better that what I've been given recently. I can only do so much, be so much, give so much of myself.  It will take me a very long time to heal from this. I don't really know how or where to begin. I am just trying to take small steps forward in whatever way feels the most right.




Note: I do not know if Steve reads this blog or not but I have written this assuming he will read it and I have been completely open and honest and fair and regret nothing I have said here.



Ok, here goes... publish post.

Time for change

Back to your regularly scheduled programming...

I'm in a bad place.  I'm hanging by a thread, twisting in the wind.  I am crying out for help and nobody is listening. I don't know how much more clear I could be to those around me that I need help.  I tell Steve every day how badly I am struggling. I have told my inlaws at every opportunity that I get. I have told my parents - who seem to be the most concerned about me, and the most sympathetic.  But nobody is stepping up to offer help. And things are growing worse.  Things are getting dire.

Too many things have gone wrong over the past few months and I've had to deal with them all myself and I am getting to the breaking point.

I have been making a little progress with Lincon's sleep problems and I am encouraged when I see that progress, knowing that I'm responsible for it - but it's far, far from being anything close to acceptable.  Last night was a particularly bad night with him.  And I've had a particularly bad morning.

I am sleep deprived. Frustrated. Irritated. Resentful. 

My marriage is not good - although Steve would never admit such a thing.  We are little more than room mates. Co-parenting.  I try to talk to him about it but he walks away from me.  Literally, walks away from me. It feels so disrespectful.  He wants me to magically be happy. Solve my own problems.  Solve my kids problems.  And leave him out of any of the tough stuff.  You've heard of "fair weather friends", he is my "fair weather husband".  There is no effort on his part to work on anything between us.  He does nothing to make me feel loved, wanted, attractive, appreciated.  I do not have the energy to do whatever needs to be done on my part to try to make things better.

I'm lonely.

My appearance makes me sad.  I feel like a fat, frumpy mother of two who has let herself go.  In fairness to myself I haven't really let myself go so much as I have had no choice but to put all my efforts and energy into other places.  And really, nobody cares what I look like anyways.  Nobody sees me. I don't get out unless it's to the grocery store and the clerks there don't care that my ass is fat or that my hair is flat, or that I only had time to put on mascara.  My kids don't care.  Steve doesn't seem to either.  I feel invisible.

The past few months have taken a serious toll on me.

I don't like where I'm at.  I need change. For the sake of myself, for the sake of my family. 

I've come to realize that nobody is going to help me, I need to help myself. 

I can not wait for the new year to start to fix this.  I need to get on it right away. 

I am going to contact the expensive sleep consultant and hire her. Today.  Fuck it.  It's expensive and I can not afford it but I am bearing the weight of this problem alone - if I have to pay someone to help me, so be it.  I can not read any book fast enough or thoroughly enough to solve this on my own.  I will put all my effort into getting Lincoln's sleep habits on track, and therefore getting some sleep of my own.  I need to be able to think more clearly, feel less sluggish and tired and worn down.

Then, I'm going to work on regaining my life, or should I say creating a new life for myself since whatever my life has been in the past is no longer applicable. One step at a time. The marriage. My weight and appearance. My social life.  Not necessarily in that order.

Its time I started caring for myself and stopped waiting for someone else to do it.

10 days

He's 10 days old now.

I've thought about writing a post so many times in those 10 days but my moods swing so dramatically that whatever I wrote, I knew I would hate myself for it a few hours later and either delete it or write another post reneging it.

The first week was the worst. I was so fucking emotional I was crying all. the. time. I was certain there was NO WAY I was going to survive this.

I was stressed over Ruby and how I've "ruined" her life. I cried every time I looked at her, overwhelmed with guilt.

I was embarrassed of myself for how I acted while I was in labour. I cried and screamed in pain and I begged to die. When it was time to push I at first refused because I said that I just couldn't. I begged the midwife and/or nurse to get him out another way, any other way. I felt ashamed acting so out of control and it ate me up a bit.

I was uncomfortable with breastfeeding. Remember I pumped for 6 months with Ruby because she refused to breastfeed. Lincoln is a champ in that department but he sucked so hard it hurt (I cracked and bled). And I felt trapped by it - sitting on the couch feeding him for hours and hours in a day. Not to mention the wild emotions that were released when I was in the actual act of doing it. I also felt shy about doing it. My boobs are bigger than Lincoln's head and I found it extremely difficult to be discreet which really bothered me.

I felt pain and immense fatigue from the birth. I was so tired and shaky and had zero appetite. So even though I was hungry and knew I should eat - I couldn't. And that made things worse. I was soooo weak.

I thought/imagined that Steve was disgusted with me. Both my appearance and my emotionalism.

Ruby acted like a demon. She was already going through a "phase" when Lincoln came into the world but I managed to blame myself for bringing a new baby into the house for her behavior. I felt like a horrible mother because I was actually incapable of dealing with her. Her whining and crying and often rotten behavior almost put me over the top.

I was overcome with fear and anxiety of how in the hell I'm going to look after both Ruby and Lincoln when Steve goes back to work later this week.

After a particularly tearful visit to the midwive's office, one midwife said she would refer to me to post partum mental health.

Later that day the midwife who delivered Lincoln called and talked to me about the birth and explained that it really was normal and I did and said nothing that I need to be ashamed of.

I let Ruby go to my mom's house over night when Lincoln was a week old. Of course I felt like I was pawning her off and hated myself for it but the next morning I felt refreshed and more clear.

And in the past few days I feel like things are improving. My body is healing. I'm getting the hang of Lincoln. I bought a breastfeeding cover. I'm not quite as sleep deprived feeling. I'm working on helping Ruby through her phase. The guilt is fading. I'm able to do a little more.

I feel incredibly lucky to have such a good baby. Lincoln is kickass good. He's not fussy. He doesn't cry (unless he's really, really hungry). And a few times I have had to wake HIM to feed him in the night. Sometimes I only have to get up with him once or twice in the night. (I didn't want to write this paragraph because as soon as I hit "publish" he will turn into a sleep depriving demon, I just know it)

I probably won't need the mental health appointment. I can probably work through this.

And yet still... at around 5 or 6pm each day I am usually in fairly rough shape. The tiredness hits and so does the depression. The tears are easy to fall. It usually lasts until I go to bed. But I know that when I wake up the next day (or sometime in the night) I will likely feel better.

I just have to keep on keeping on and hope things keep improving - however slowly.

Reality

I now have TWO carseats in the back seat of my STATION WAGON.

I have been waiting for the fact that I am going to have TWO children (18 months apart) to sink in. Somehow being one week away from my due date and feeling like I am walking around with a full keg of beer somehow sitting just under the skin of my stomach hasn't quite made it real enough for me.

But the few minutes that I just spent standing, staring at the back seat of my car looking at two carseats and imagining what it's going to be like when they're occupied... I think that may have done it as far as reality goes.

Lost

I'm in a weird place with this blog. Not sure what to write about. Feel kind of lost in limbo as I don't really feel like I fit into any one slot or with any particular community.

Granted I spent my share of time in the trenches of IF. Going through 2 IVFs have marked me for life and I will always be attached to the IF community.

Then with the successful IVF, I was still attached to the IF community but also to the Parenting After IF community. And maybe some Mommy Blogs too. Although you always lose some readers when you make that transition from one side to the other.

And then came the surprise pregnancy. Well that just seemed to send me to the dark side where fewer and fewer people can relate to me and therefore I'm in a much, much smaller group of commrades. Throw in the struggle I've had with accepting the pregnancy and I might even venture to say that I've been shunned somewhat by whatever small group of followers I still had.

Oh I know there's a few of you troopers that still come here from time to time to see what I'm up to - and I love and appreciate every single one of you.

But now what do I write about? Sure there's the odd post about IF when it comes up. And there's the odd post about parenting Ruby. There's the odd post about my current pregnancy but I don't have a lot to say since this isn't my first rodeo and I'm kind of just rolling along. It's not as if I don't know what to expect like my last pregnancy and I wrote about every little thing that happened to my body - hoping somebody could explain it. And if I wrote about all the things I struggle with NOW? Well...

*tap* *tap* *tap* "Is this thing on???"

So I don't know where to go from here. Thought about throwing in the towel and just moving on, but that doesn't feel right either. I seem to have lost my blogging groove and I have no idea how to get it back.

Bullets

* Steve apparently spoke to his mother on Monday about her behavior on Saturday night. She says she didn't mean anything by the comment and it wasn't intended to hurt my feelings. She claims to have had no idea she did anything wrong. So typical. Steve told her that she really hurt my feelings - she doesn't understand why. I haven't heard word one from her since then. An apology? Not counting on it. Lift rug and sweep.

* Went for my beta yesterday morning. I wasn't sure how this thing works for regular folk - normally I would spend the afternoon with the phone attached to my hip, waiting for "the call" from "the clinic". So after hearing nothing I phoned my doctor's office and they told me that they don't give results over the phone and I needed to make an appointment to see the doctor to discuss the results. So I have an appointment for Friday. That seems like a long time to wait.

* Been experiencing the death hunger again. Not cool. Really hard to not gain a stack of weight when you feel like you might die from starvation every half an hour. I am thankful to not be as nauseous and sick as I was in the first tri with Ruby, but that sick, starving tummy is back. I almost threw up this morning from it.

* I got some healthy yet satisfying snacks on hand like low fat cottage cheese, hard boiled eggs, cereal and skim milk - so that when I get so hungry at least I've got something half assed healthy to snack on. And I've also decided to write down everything that I eat in hopes of keeping my food intake somewhat under control. Cuz you know that when I'm starving like that, it ain't for carrot sticks.

* Running has been really hard. I'm trying to stick to it (for the love of God, I'm only at 6 weeks!!!) but my endurance has really dropped in the past few days. It makes me frustrated and sad. I won't give up yet though. I'm hoping that if I stick to it, it will get better once the fatigue stage has passed.

* Ruby's been a bit difficult lately. She's really whiny and crying lots. It's hard right now because I feel like I haven't got the energy that I had a few weeks ago. I'm tired and blah and gross feeling. Some times when she's crying I cry too. I don't know what else to do. Some days I just can't seem to make her happy and it makes me feel like I'm not doing a good job as her mother right now. I can't help but wonder that if I was feeling better I would be able to handle her better.

* Steve's been totally kickass awesome lately. He's been helping out with Ruby a LOT. He doesn't have to be asked to change her diapers or help her when she's fussing. He lets me have a break when he's home. He's also been helping with dinner a lot. And the other day he even washed the floor... on his own... without being asked... Just awesome.

* Ruby is going to Grandma's house this weekend to give me a bit of a break. I am looking forward to going to the pub on Saturday afternoon and swilling a bunch of cold beers and eating chicken wings with blue cheese dip while watching the hockey game.

Oh... wait a minute... the above plan is currently under revision...

Reflecting

I came, I saw, I stagetted. I survived. I actually had some fun.

But 12 hours of "celebrating"... is a bit too much for me at my ripe old age of 34. It started at noon and ended (for me anyways) at around midnight. Which meant, "ouch" for yesterday.

Luckily though I did get to come home at the end of the night and I was in the door, in my bed by about 12:30am or so. I was ever so happy to be able to kiss my baby goodnight and wake up in my own bed in the morning.

I was also very lucky that Steve treated me so well yesterday. He took on the parenting role completely and so I was able to sleep in and rest and lick my wounds for as long as it took (it took a long time). He told me that I deserved a night out and I deserved a day off and I deserved to sleep and rest and do whatever I wanted to do the next day. I'm so thankful for that. I did sweet fuck all yesterday.

Today, after the fog has lifted somewhat, I'm feeling thankful for where I'm at in my life. A place where those party girl nights are so few and far between and there are other things, much more important things - things that make me so much more happy and content than a night out could ever make me. And I think that all the days and nights of worry leading up to last Saturday are because I know that that's not really me anymore. That I don't enjoy that kind of night so much anymore. Sure I do still enjoy myself a cocktail now and then, but those big BIG party nights just don't do it for me anymore.

Or perhaps they never did.

What if those big piss up, party down nights were never really my thing? What if that's just what I did because I didn't know what else to do with myself and it just seemed like the thing to do? What else did I have going on? How else would I get the attention that I seemed to crave so badly? What else would fill the void? What else would help me numb out my feelings?

Having a little reminder of what my old life looked like really slams it home how unhappy and unfulfilled I truly was back then. I couldn't be happier with where my life is right now. I am not missing out on anything. I don't care if people think I'm silly or sucky or whatever because none of that matters one little bit. I have all I could ever ask for in my life and my heart wants for nothing.

I need a pep talk!

Today I'm going out for a stagette. It's shaping up to be super fun - we're going on a professionally created scavenger hunt during the day, then appies and cocktails at a girlfriend's house, then a limo to a comedy dinner theatre, then limo back to girlfriends house for... more drinking and fun I suppose. The girls that are going are all really fun, lots of laughs and super easy to get along with.

And I so totally deserve a night out with the girls and a night off from housewife/mommy duties.

So why do I feel so nervous about it that I have been losing sleep and this morning woke up with some... "stomach issues"?

I'm nervous about the hangover that I will inevitably have. Yes, I know I am in control of this but anyone who's ever been out on a girls night with a bunch of fun loving, good time girls - knows how hard it can be to say no or to go too slow. I do plan on implementing some strategies to minimize the damage but the fact remains that even after a mellow night, I suffer. I know I will suffer tomorrow.

Along with that will come guilt. I'm so scared of the inevitable guilt. Does anyone else get this? Or I am the only mental case?

And there's the overnight thing. I HATE overnights. I'm contemplating coming home but I will need to take an expensive cab ride. And I will get ribbed from the girls. People don't get my thing with sleep overs and it's hard to explain to people.

And also - it's a LONG time to be away from my girl. I will worry about her. I *know* she'll be fine but I can't help but worry about her and miss her. God I will miss her.

But I'm going back to work in December and Ruby will be going to daycare 4 days a week. That's going to be a big shock to her (and me) and I have been trying to tell myself that she needs to start spending some time away from me and with other people - so she can cope better when daycare starts. So wouldn't this be a good start? Part of me says, yes. Definitely. Part of me says, who fucking cares - I want my baby!!!

How lame am I? The Tara of 5 years ago would roll her eyes at the Tara of today and then she would order another drink and shake her head in disgust.

No, I would NEVER, EVER want to go back to the Tara of 5 years ago, but I would really like to just go out and have a good time without all the fucking mental and emotional baggage.

I could sure use some encouragement and/or a pep talk. I know Saturday is a slow day for blogging but if you happen to come across this post I could sure use a shot in the arm.

Beer

Tonight, Ruby puked in my beer.

I spent a good few minutes staring down at the 3/4 full glass of cold beer, and had to seriously talk myself out of just scooping out the little white curdles and finishing the drink.

My life has changed so much...