uncagedbird’s Neighborhood

Sometimes you gotta break it down...

Hi, I'm Kristina and I hate text messages. I think we've had this conversation before. Ok, maybe Im being harsh, when it's short and to the point or you know something that makes you smile like Good Morning, then the shits coo. But here is an example of how people are so outta touch with the old school way of communicating.

I get a text today from my ex. "Happy Mother's Day."

I don't respond. You know during Christmas and Thanksgiving I get about 50 texts saying, "Merry Christmas" and I don't respond because I think it's a general, sent to everyone in their phone book kind of text. If it were personalized, it would read, "Happy Thanksgiving comma Kristina exclamation mark.."

So I treat the Happy Mothers Day text just the same.

He calls me about 10 minutes ago. It scared the shit outta me cuz my phone on a Sunday night, never rings! HA! He's all like, did you get my text? I broke it down to him. "You know, I don't do well with texts, I thought it was a general blah, blah, blah, wah, wah, wah..."

"Um, no I don't have a "Happy Mothers Day" file folder to send those messages to, that was meant for you."

OH-muh badd, what was wrong with your phone that you couldn't call at an earlier, decent time where you could have not only spoken to your daughter but properly just have taken 30 seconds to say hey Happy Mothers Day my second baby's mama, thank you for being a better baby's mama than the first bitch I knocked up.

I had your child dude. My nose was REALLY fat for you. I couldn't see my toes. People thought I was having twins and ready to pop at 7 months. I was bigger than 5 houses in a fuckin cul de sac. My vagina was on fire.......I want a phone call like what people used to do in the 90's. If we were living in the 90's would he have paged me upside down messages..Oh you didn't get my message, turn your pager upside down, dat reads Happy M Day..

Oh...

wtf.............

I felt funky this morning.
I had a sour stomach all after noon.
I wished my mom a happy mothers day.
A little later, I couldn't walk without feeling extremely ill.
Just a few moments ago... I made a rather violent offering to the porcelain gods... It felt as if it was going to be a human sacrifice.

My eyes are black and blue and bloodshot.  My stomach is still off.
Happy mothers day mom ... Please avoid me like the plague!

a sport men play during baseball season

What's the best thing about your mom?

She's a beautiful, strong, intelligent and endearing woman.  I can't pick one best thing about her.  She was in her 40s when she was pregnant with me.  She had me despite her age, the odds, the words of others... She's given me life and we're both fine.  According to science at the time, I wasn't supposed to be "normal", there should have been a lot of problems with me... So, no one "upsold" my existence and she didn't listen, she felt she knew better.  She was right. 

Growing up, she gave me the attention and love and scolding I needed.  Sometimes, things could have gone either way.  I think if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't feel as good about myself as I can now.

Show us your mother.

Me and mom.

Me & mom

4 comments

A more recent pic is on her website now.

Happy Mother's Day momma!

What's the best thing about your mom?

She's caring. She tried her best with me. She still loves me after all my mistakes. She's been able to put up with my dad for 35 years. She loves God and feels that God is protecting our family. She remains optimistic about EVERYTHING. She is the kindest woman I know. And I love her.

And while I am a mom and all that, Mother's Day is also the day I graduated from college.

In 1998.

Go ahead, do the math on your fingers. This is the last year you will have enough fingers for all of the years because I graduated 10 years ago.

And honestly, I'm pretty okay with how those 10 years have gone. I spent five of those 10 years married to my now estranged husband. I spent six years working for a company I probably never should have left, but I did. I spent three months living in Tunisia. I've spent the last four years being a mom to a really great kid. I've traveled and seen some amazing things. I bought a bar and helped to keep it open for two years now. And I've spent the past several months working in a challenging and often exciting and certainly frustrating new field.

I was never one of those people with a plan. If you had asked me on my graduation day where I would be in 10 years, I don't know what I would have said. My answer probably wouldn't have matched where I'm at now. But that doesn't really matter. What does matter, is that I'm happy with where I am. I'm happy with the ups and downs of the last 10 years. If you asked me today, I couldn't tell you what I will be doing in another 10 years. I just don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead. But I'm okay with that.

I'm happy now and I'm confident I'll be happy then, too.

It's a good feeling.

I'm in dire need of a haircut. Or at least a pair of thinning scissors. But of course I hate going to the hairdresser. I hate the whole boring, time wasting experience. And I hate paying a small fortune to get what I didn't want.

Then a friend said to me

Why don't you call Robin?

It seems Robin is a hairdresser who comes to your home. And she's cheap as chips because I don't have to pay for her electricity, her water rates, her superannuation or her stupid magazines. So I can pay her half the amount to get something I don't want in the comfort of my own home.

So she's coming in the morning. And as well as a haircut we're going to discuss a way to blend in my grey roots. Which are coming at an alarming rate. She's even allowed time in case I want a colour.

But then I had a thought. When you go to the hairdresser they put on the colour then leave you and go see to another client. But what does Robin do while my colour is on? Do I have to entertain her, or can I leave her in front of the television while I do other things?

Maybe I should wear my anti-socialite tshirt to make it clear to her how I feel about things. I'm the one on the right.

Antisocialite

I'm thinking a fringe. Even though I always regret a fringe. But I'm feeling a strong urge for a thick fringe. And what the hell, it's only hair - it grows back.

Don't worry - I'm under no illusion that what I end up with will at all resemble the picture I have picked out.

Jenna's 6th birthday

Dear Jenna - Happy Birthday baby.  You turned six years old today and I can hardly believe it.  My mom always told me the years would start to go by faster once I had children, but I still wasn't prepared for blinking my eyes and finding you so grown up, beautiful, smart, and lovely. 

I was truly blessed when you were born Mother's Day weekend six years ago.  I had no idea what motherhood was all about, but I was ready to get my on-the-job training from you.

At 6 weeks you got colic and we would sit and rock or stand and walk all over the house.  Crying together.  You cause you couldn't help it and me cause I couldn't help you. 

At three months you started to smile and sleep through the night.  I thought an angel had come in the middle of the night and swiped my little demon screamer for a cherub baby full of giggles and love. Now I still see the demon shoot from those eyes like daggers when you don't get your way... but mostly you are a sweet girl that wants to please everyone with your smile and witty personality.

Did you know your first word was at 4 months old?  I am not kidding.  You would point and say "DA" for dog everytime our dog Shiner walked into the room.  Barely holding your head steady, and already you were communicating with us.  By 6 months you had "Da da" "Mamamama" and "no" down.  By a year old you could say three word sentances.  People we met out in public were amazed by your big blue eyes and vocabulary. 

When I was 6 months pregnant with your brother, we would be waiting for a seat in the restaurant and you would introduce me to the other people in the waiting area.  "Hello, my name is Jenna.  My favorite color is red.  This is my Mommy, Miranda, she has my baby broda in her tummy.  She's not fat."  Everyone would giggle at you and ask how old you were, thinking her were just small for your age, as you had such maturity.  When I shrugged and said "She isn't quite two yet." .... well let's just say I think a few people thought I was lying.  And others were shocked into silence.  Some would look at their own child that was near the same age with a look that said "Why aren't you talking as good as her?" 

And you haven't shut up since.  You watch the television and tell me "Mom, I don't think this show is appropriate for Nate."  Or you will start a sentance with "Well Mom, TECHNICALLY, it's _____" fill in your very forthright opinion on said topic. 

Everyone at your school has nicknamed you Hannah Montana.  At first I thought it was because of your intense obsession with the fourteen year old.  But I am beginning to wonder if it isn't because you act a bit like you are fourteen already yourself.

You aren't only smart, you are athletic.  You were throwing a ball to us before you could sit up.  You are only six, but you have mastered roller skating, riding your new big girl bike, and two-wheel scooter (The Razor) and are the star in your danceclass.    I honestly don't think there is ANYTHING you couldn't do if you tried.  And I am not just saying that because I am your Mom.

One thing I love about you is your warm presence and superb manners.  You know all your classmates parents names and greet them everyday when they bring in and pick up thier children.  You say things like "It's nice to meet you", "May I have ____", "Please", "Thank you", "That means so much to me", "May I be excused?"....  all without prompting or reminding.  It makes me swell with pride to see your empathy and consideration for others... whether it's to make your brother laugh when he cries, or when you give me a big hug when I do.  Your heart is so open and loving to everyone you meet... I just pray no one ever takes advantage of that to the point you stop being that way.

And even as grown up as you are... you are still my baby.  I'll let you in on a secret...  as much as I fuss about you staying in your bed at night... I secretly love when you climb into bed with me and wrap your arm around me in the middle of the night.  Sometimes I wake up in my big lonely bed by myself and am kinda sad that you didn't come.  I know these days won't last forever, and I am trying to remember to cherish each and every cuddle.

When you are tired, sick or hurt and you come to me with your sad eyes, crying for "Mommy"... I am so blessed to be the person you always look for and need most.  Everyday I thank God for that feeling of joy and pride you give me.  I pray that he protects you and never lets you hurt anymore than you need to. 

Thank you for six amazing years being your Mommy, my sweet JennaBug.  Don't grow up too fast, as I am enjoying you so much right now.

Love,

Mommy

Is that I haven't had to change a shitty diaper all week. Gabby's been shittin in the toilet & *taking her sweet time doing it too just like her daddy. I mean seriously, I know people have bathroom rituals. Mine is-go in, sit my ass down, shit, wipe, wash hands, and go on about my bid-ness. I rarely bring my phone in the bathroom unless I'm in the middle of a conversation and I go pee. Shittin-on the other hand requires a bit more skill.

I remember my ex trying to have serious conversations with me while he's in his "office", with the door open. *holding my nose and breath.

So something tells me he's shittin in front of Gabby and probably singing Itsy Bitsy Spider with her after he just wiped his ass off from his first round of shit..........