Are you normal?

What is normal? Do you know normal people? Normal people work, have families, go grocery shopping, run errands, clean, cook, help their kids with homework and talk to other normal people right?
I do those things, but I don't feel normal.

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, some of the definitions for normal are:
conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern

a : of, relating to, or characterized by average intelligence or development

b : free from mental disorder : sane.

How ironic. To be normal means to have average intelligence and not be crazy. Aren't most crazy people of higher intelligence? I am not sane, neither am I insane. Nor will I conform. So I guess that's my answer. I am not normal. I am better than normal. I'm unique. I'm eccentric. I'm extraordinary.

Antonyms

abnormal, exceptional, extraordinary, odd, out-of-the-way, strange, unusual

Definition of abnormal:

: deviating from the normal or average : unusual, 

Synonyms

 exceptional, exceeding, extraordinaire, extraordinary, phenomenal, rare, singular, uncommon, uncustomary, unique, unusual,

I will take exceptional, rare, unique and strange any day of the week.
I don't have to be normal to do normal things. I am me. I can be whatever I want. It's my life, and I only get one. You do you, and I'll do me.

I don't have to fit in. I don't have to be like you, talk like you, dress, shop, drive, walk like anyone else. That's what makes us so special. None of us are the same, even identical twins. They may have the same DNA, but that's all. They still have different thoughts, personalities, interests, and fingerprints. The fact that they came from the same egg and sperm does not make them the same.

I suddenly feel more empowered. I have always skipped to a different beat, and I think that's why some people have gravitated towards me, and some run. Fine, run away. Go to the other sheep. The ones that want to be near me want to know why I smile, and laugh, and not care about certain things. Because I don't. I don't care whether you like it or not. It's the mental illness that steps in and sometimes takes over with anxiety and self doubt. But that's not 'me', that's my disease.

Anything I do, is my normal. How I dress, talk or act is my normal. If I'm depressed and stay home all day, day after day, that's my normal. If I'm suddenly manic and want to go shopping and clean the house until 3 am, that's my normal. It doesn't mean that everything I do, when I do it is healthy, but it's my normal. It may not be your version of it, but then again, you don't walk in my shoes, and think my thoughts.

The next time someone says something to the effect of you not being or acting normal, you just tell them:

"Hell no, I'm fucking phenomenal."

I had a gun pointed to my head when I was 9

BY A COP...Got your attention....yeah it got mine too!!

So here I am this little girl. My dad, on occasion in his younger years, was a bank robber. Later on he just did ever other crime under the sun. He did his time, and no I never saw a dime. He was getting his life back together for his familys' sake. It wouldn't last, but it was worth the try.

Me, my mother, father, 3 year old brother, and grandma are sitting on the front porch of her house. We were moving the next day. There was a U-haul parked in the driveway and we were celebrating a big long yard sale with some nice BBQ before leaving the next day in the U-haul.

It was exciting. We were going somewhere new to start a new life and my dad was there, he was never there anymore.
I remember so clearly. It was nice out. We were all outside in the front just laughing and enjoying the evening and talking about all the excitement and how my grandma was going to miss us all.
I was sitting next to my dad, practically on his lap, sharing chicken.


Out of nowhere, 5 or 6 cop cars came screeching from all directions, drove right up in the yard, jumped out, guns drawn, and one walked right up to my dad, stuck a gun in his face and said "Don't Move"

I said that correctly. SEVERAL police officers swarmed a house and DREW THEIR GUNS on a family eating dinner on the front porch, and stuck a loaded gun in my face.

My dad calmly put his food down and put his hands up. My mom is pulling me away so fast it's blurry. Adults are yelling at cops, kids are crying to adults, and it's a fucking scene out of RENO 911. Who the fuck draws guns on kids eating BBQ chicken? Did it look like he was going to run? Seriously?

Apparently, he wasn't supposed to being leaving the state the next day. But he hadn't even done anything yet. So they got wind he was going to leave. And at that moment he was such a threat it garnered that much attention to draw a gun on a man with a child on his lap.
Do you know that if I freaked out or if that cop flinched his finger I would have watched my dad die by getting shot in the head by a cop, for no FREAKING REASON AT ALL. He was committing NO CRIME whatsoever at that moment.

Oh yeah, I love cops.

He got out of jail that night. Released and was told to come back to a probation hearing and that was that. We still moved the next day. He had to go back a few weeks later to go to court.

All that commotion for a court date.
That was the first time I saw a gun up close.

We never even got an apology or any kind of retribution. Nice huh?

And you know what? Twenty five years later he became a lobbyist for Law Enforcement. Yep, he stood in front of the Legislative Committee and spoke FOR them, and how they need more funding to catch the bad guys.

Ironic? Oh yeah.
Became a better person? He sure as shit tried!!

Mom's are not allowed to go to the bathroom 2

     Oh there were lots of times I should have held it. Probably why I pee my pants now when I cough or laugh too hard. Between all those pregnancies and babies kicking my bladder, and having to hold it because I just couldn't take my eyes off the twins, I don't have a 'hold it' option now.

These twins, when they were toddlers, were horrible little diapered giggling trolls that destroyed everything they touched. Everything. It's like giving Chunk from Goonies something, count to ten, yep broken.

So here I am working full-time, going to school online full time at night, and taking care of 3 kids and the house. The oldest being my junior high school teen daughter at the time. (My two teenage boys live with their dad, different dad) It was a 30 hour day packed into 24, and that was with only 5-6 hours of sleep every night. I was always working at a job that I needed to commute, or train or bus, or all three. So needless to say, I was tired A LOT. And Fibro was kicking my ass DAILY back then, AND this is in between surgeries for my Endo. Sheesh. Some of the absolute lowest times in my life and sanity. The medications did NOTHING. Nothing was GOING to help me unless I changed some things or wiped it all off the plate after having a nervous breakdown. You guess.

We lived on the bottom floor of an apartment building for about 1 1/2 yrs. It was sort of half way in the ground, in the building I was in, so the bedroom windows were at ground level. Let me tell you, when there was a 12 foot snow drift ABOVE my window I was scared. I went to bed every night wondering if that was going to come crashing down and bury me. The twins were around two years old. They had already DISMANTLED their crib. Like, you know, I walked in and the mattress was thrown out and two sides were taken off, and they were running around.


Twins- 1 Bed- 0

So forget it, they can have a toddler bed. Um, now how do I keep them in there? I already have three different kinds of deadbolts, THREE on the front door, and they can open them all. It was a constant battle to keep them alive. So I deadbolt their bedroom door. I don't care what you say, I'm not having these babies wake up in the night and leave the house!



I come home from work, put the kids in their room for some play time, and collapse on my bed...just a short nap I tell myself. My daughter can handle it.

About 30 minutes later, while I'm in my famous comasleep I hear this kitten of a sound 'mommy' 'mommy'
"Mommmmmmmy" real quiet like but one of them is calling me in a 'come get me I'm scared' sort of cry.

I get up and go open their door. They're not in there! WTF

I'm freaking out. I start looking all over the apartment and under things. How the hell did I lose the kids in the house? Then I hear it again, real faint..."mommy"
Is that coming from my room? I look out the window and *gasp, my toddler is standing outside.my.window.

I run to the front door, so I can go around back and get him, and I'm greeted by the other one! He's out there running around giggling, running in the parking lot, running from me. Oh ya, this kid was knocking on my door. My two year old, climbed out his bedroom window, ran around the apartment building and knocked on the front door. Wow. There's this lady neighbor yelling at me about calling the cops and CPS and how I'm such a negligent mother for letting my kids play in the street. Seriously? I really wanted to choke her.

These fucking McGuyver's TOOK APART THE TODDLER BED and proceeded to turn the bedframe sideways, and climb up it like a ladder and out the window, which was cracked open so tiny I'm surprised he noticed! The timid sensitive one didn't get far. As usual he followed his brother and then got scared and stayed there calling me.


Twins-2 Bed-0

The cops really came. I showed them ( and so did the twins ) how they can open all the deadbolts, (three different kinds too using chairs, a toy and the broom), take apart their bed, and get into everything that is inhumanly possible. The cops said he never seen anything like it. It was obvious, as a single mother of twin toddler boys, I was doing everything I could to keep these BABIES alive. No CPS, just a laugh and a "keep up the good work". Let me say, it's actually illegal to lock your children in a room, except when you're trying to keep your children alive I guess. Idk but any other kind of lock and I wouldn't have been able to get in and out. I mean, childproof kitchen cabinets with that plastic shit?  LOL I was using Stanley and MasterCraft.

I didn't like it. I really had no choice. I mean these kids didn't have a lamp or dresser by the time they were 2 as well. DESTRUCTIVE.

 It was funny misery I guess. Never a dull moment. So mom's are not allowed to go to the bathroom, or take a nap.


THESE PEOPLE WERE WEARING DIAPERS!!!   LMAO
TERRORISTS IN DIAPERS

The Phantom Bleeder

          I had a hysterectomy a few years back for Endometriosis but opted to keep my run-down ovaries, that is if they looked ok when the doc went in. They weren't too bad so that's all that's left of my womanhood down there, other than my boobs, I mean I'm still a girl ok, even if everything is a little run down or lower that it used to be.

          So this phantom bleeder that I've mentioned, it sucks. My daughter is on her period, her friends probably are, both of our dogs are in heat. Damn bleeding bitches. I feel everything still, just a little less than before.

     It only makes me want to choke a little less of the people that cross my path so that's good for them too. My lower back still hurts and I still feel cramping but that's just the Endo that got left behind that flares up with any surge of hormones. (Seriously, so much got left behind, they have to keep going in and cutting it out, and yet Endo grows on scar tissue, so it's this wonderful merry go round.) I still get emotional, irritable...all the same stuff that happens on a period, only I don't bleed. I also have no way of knowing when it's coming. There's no PMS. There's no warning. One day I'm Mary Poppins, the next....Medusa. I made cookies for the kids one time, and ate most of them the next day. It came on that fast. At this point, I'm looking forward to menopause, because I don't know how long I can handle menobroken-record.

Between that, the Fibro and arthritis I creak and hobble around. It looks like I'm trying to do the "Thriller" video dance down the hallway.


     So I'm "phantom bleeding" right now and I just wish I only had to do this every 6 months like the dogs. My daughter put a doggie diaper on her little one, it's her first heat. It was cute. You just have to take it off or change it every time you take them out to use the restroom.

A diaper you have to take off so you can pee. Fascinating. I had toddlers that did that without asking, bless their pissing little heart.



I got one for my dog and it would be fit for a small pony. But then I probably would forget to take it off so she could go outside and then freak out cuz she can't get the poop out and run around trying to figure out what to do, with crap hanging out as she's dragging her ass on the ground trying to get that contraption off of her. It was way more of a mess than anticipated. Then the dog got a hysterectomy. She's just mad she can't have chocolate. 

My phantom period has all the trademarks, moody, emotional, irritable, hungry, need chocolate, in pain, muscle cramps, crying during commercials. I had a hysterectomy 10 freaking years ago, and the lack of bleeding is literally the only difference. And now I get to be anemic. I wish there was some type of expiration date on these things that actually made sense. Like, one day you push out a kid, and your whole uterus just pops out too. "Oh you have a girl, and you graduated periods! Congratulations!!"

Being on the rag though, ugh....
I'm pretty sure that's how it got the name "the rag". A long time ago, the first bleeder could only think of one thing, stick a towel up that freaking faucet. I'm so glad I didn't have to clean out bloody wash clothes over and over. I don't remember seeing too many stories about that in Little House on the Prarie..."Oh no Laura, it's that time of month? Do you happen to have any spare rags in your outhouse?"

Sure Betty, they're next to the corn cobs. We got Pa's old hankies and Ma's dish towels, depending on your flow.

Moms are not allowed to go to the bathroom

Back a few years ago when I was a single mom to the terrible two twos, it got quite exciting to say the least. I did everything, and they did it all with me. Grocery store? You gotta bring both babies so now there's no room for any food. Can't let one walk cuz the other will go ballistic. Twins have to have the same thing, always. And always competing for me.

The only chance I have to do anything is that 30 minutes I had between getting home from work, bus and train, and the time I get the kids from daycare. The precious 30 minutes to get a lot done. You would be surprised how much you can do in that amount of time when you have to. I'm running people over in the stores, "Outa my way sister, I'm on a mission."


So I'm in this downstairs apartment with a tiny porch. Everyone on the 2nd and 3rd floor have a nice black railing on their balcony, how come I don't? No one on the 1st floor does. I mean as soon as I open the sliding glass door my (then 2 year old twin boys) go darting outside like a bull being ridden or a bird out its cage. Run free! Run fast as far as you can. That was my exercise everyday, chasing toddlers.
I'm jealous of the porches, so I run to the hardware store in that 30 minutes and get some supplies. (Same 30 minutes I used to go grocery shopping, pay bills, rent movies...etc. I was boss) I had measured everything out and was just getting some basic stuff.

The first day my friend helped me put up some 8 x 4 foot premade, spikey top (you know for 3' tall terrorists) fences and posts and cut them and it all looked good. Now the rules are that if you do that, you have to have it black, either painting it or by instead installing railings. Well after the whole weekend of being home and enjoying the whole patio thing, I decided that I needed to get it painted before too long as I'm sure there will be a complaint from 'that' neighbor who doesn't like anything you do.

On Sunday afternoon I take the wee little ones and my teenage daughter who helps when she can, back to the hardware store to buy paint. I like these carts better. They expect you to buy big things, so they're bigger and that means the kids can really sprawl out in it.

I buy black outdoor paint for the fence. Everything is going good. I drop my daughter off at a friends' house but she'll be home in about an hour. I take everything and everyone inside and by this time I am doing the pee pee dance. I set the closed pounded down can of paint on the kitchen counter and go to the bathroom........

Exactly 12.45 seconds later I come out of my room and for the first nanosecond my brain said "Oh wow,  look at the cute tiny footpr..." Mortified. O.M.G.
I didn't walk, I cringed down the hallway, and all I could hear was the 2 year old laughter of evil. Giggling and running around and making footprints of black paint all over my carpet.

This. (breath) Can't. (breath) Be. Happening (cant breath) OMG.

I pick him up and immediately want to get the toxic paint off my son even though what I WANT to do is pick him upside down and paint the fence with his long skater toddler hair. "Oh yeah, you want to play with the paint? How's that huh? You like that?" I quickly snap out of it and look at the evil twin grin and know; you are my child.

I clean the paint off him, and barely a little off the other twin who is always scared to do anything, brats. I'm freaking out. I just moved into this apartment, seriously? All I'm seeing is dollar signs. As I'm trying to clean, my daughter is there trying to help and call carpet cleaners.

I'm sorry, did I mention that it was 9pm on a Sunday night? Yay! Well after I ruined it by getting it wet trying to clean it up, which you should never get paint wet and try and clean it by yourself. The end result was I paid $200 for a brown stain on my carpet. It wasn't the last brown stain they made.

I just needed to pee, you little brats!