Baby on Board

A few Sundays ago I came home from a disappointing Saints watching to puke 5 times in the bathroom. I was absolutely miserable. I sat up... wanted to vomit. I curled up... wanted to vomit. Shit. I tried to call for mom....nothing. Thankfully Dad walked in so I could ask him to go get the nurse I call mom. She rubbed my back, gave me a heating pad, pain (+sleep), and anti-nausea medication. Thank you sweet baby Jesus! I drifted away into a comfortable (and possibly medically high) slumber.

I continued to be nauseous for a week. I went to work thinking I was going to blow chunks on the first person I talked to. What the hell was wrong with me? Was there some stomach bug going around? I came home every night exhausted out of my mind but unable to lay down due to my raging nausea. Mom finally asks the question...

"Are you pregnant?"
"No!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yep. I had two periods (since...well). I think I'm just dying."
"I had two periods when I was pregnant."
*Confused face* "Well, I'm not pregnant."
"Steph! Diamond's gonna have a baby!"

Ugh. I am never telling anyone I don't feel well again. The bestie was more than thrilled/entertained about this non-potential child and Mom...? Mom talked about me having little Harleigh bugs...something I never want...girls. Even Dad got in on it when I tried on a pair of my jeans that I hadn't worn in a few months that wouldn't go over my ass (I broke the zipper when I finally got them on) "Hips only spread like that for one reason!" Because of eating too much ice cream? Because I am sure that is what it was.

I went out to buffalo wild wings on Saturday so I could lose my mind watching a poorly played LSU game (clearly not a good year for Louisiana football) I ate a little and drank lots of water to pee out whatever bug was trying to kill me. A couple more days went on and I continued to feel sick. I would come home from work EXHAUSTED and wanting to hurl everything I ate that day. That was it. Mom had had it. She knew I was pregnant and she was going to convince me. I laughed and brushed it off and kept reminding her that it was impossible for me to be pregnant unless I had been pregnant for a while.

Persuaded by her own pregnancy experience, mom offered to take me to CVS to get a stick to piss on. Ugh. Fine. Ill pee on your little stick and prove to you there is no parasite growing inside of me. We ride over to CVS at 10 O'clock at night and discuss what we would do in different scenarios...well the only two scenarios. If I were to be pregnant I would laugh and point with an "I told you" like phrase. If I were... I would cry and quickly slit my wrists...vertically.

We walk in the store and debate where to even find these things. Mom's logic is that they are with the tampons and pads because you obviously don't need those things if you are knocked up. Her logic was right and we were faced with the many choices of pregnancy tests. Clear Blue, EPT, First Response CVS brand...geez. Which one was the best cheapest? I mean you just pee on all of them and they pop up with a happy face for not pregnant and a sad face for pregnant right? They even have digital ones. No discerning between lines involved (which isn't that damn difficult). Words. They have fucking words. Just say pregnant or not pregnant.

We grab an EPT -/+ one and check out. On the car ride back home mom sucked me into a whole conversation about baby names and how I am not allowed to name my kid something ghetto. I'm not creative enough to make up a random ass name not to mention I would like to name my kid something that my Korean mother could actually pronounce. This conversation was all jumping the gun though because I knew I wasn't preggo despite mom's opinion.

I open the box and unwrap the test. I don't even have time to read the instructions because the professional pee on a stick resident was giving me verbal instructions on how to perform at my best. Thankfully I drank two bottles of water between the drive from Haughton to Bossier and back. I go to the bathroom alone (a rarity these days with 2 kids) and pee on the stick counting, "One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississipi, five. I put the stick on the counter and wash my hands. I walk out and bitch about waiting two minutes to read it. Mom and the bestie however ignore my bitching and run into the bathroom like tween girls seeing that One Direction band in the mall.

They stare at the stick and I slowly walk in behind them.

Minus sign!

Whoop whoop. Told ya suckas!

Disappointed the two walk away and the bestie says, "doesn't mean your not pregnant."

Ugh

Coffee, Chocolate, Men...Some Things are Just Better Rich

Sure, I've gone out a few times. Fresh out of a...I'm not sure what to call it, but we will use the term relationship for now, I am not looking to meet another boy, man, or asshole. For some reason however, guys think that I have a sign on my forehead, or my ass for that matter that says, talk to me...I want to hear your bullshit.

My first night back home, Canada came to visit Louisiana so we could put off saying goodbye. By the time she arrived in Shreveport, I had already been drinking Skinny Girl Margarita, and Skinny Girl Mandarin Vodka with Sprite (which tastes just like Sunkist) at the pool. We went out with my newly single fiancé to the newest casino in town, Margaritaville. The show was great but not as great as the show my completely hammered fiancé was giving. 

My pretty little love unconciously flirted with one of the stilted guys who we just named Stilts for obvious reasons. This Norweigen Johnny Depp look alike talked to us our entire dinner and invited us out afterwards. We never made it that far because some people just can't hang, but the story doesn't end there. The next weekend, my bestie, fiancé and I went to Stray Cat downtown. Who do we see there? Of course we Stilts and a couple of his hipster friends there. One guy dressed in a tie, vest, and fake black glasses profusely hits on me all night long. He offered to take me to dinner, but even free dinner wasn't enticing enough. I wasn't drunk enough to be entertained by him. Stilts on the other hand got touchy feely and downright possesive over the girl he that got away. 

Who are these men that never quit. Is this a new breed? Guys now a days can't take no for an answer. It is like they think they are entitled to my vagina. A guy that apparently knew stilts and his friends came up and started talking to me. I politely, or as politely as I could, told him, "I'm sorry. I already have a group that I am hanging out with. You can go away, I don't want to talk to you." Instead of appreciating my straight forward response he quickly got angry and and started using offensive terminology. Seriously, you were just trying to hit on me and now I am the ugliest bitch you know? Well buddy, you should seriously raise your standards.

Again, I go out with the fiancé to meet up with some new friends on hump day. Whoop! Whoop! I'm having a good time enjoying some Makers while my love drinks a slutty on the weekends dirty martini. She sees a guy a few tables away and says, he looks like Brad Pitt. Interested, I look over and am disappointed by the choice of celebrity used to represent this guy. I question her vision and she reassures me that if I were to be a block away and see this guy that he looked like Brad Pitt. Fine. I'll accept that.

He kept eyeing our table as well as a guy in camo pants, a vest, and hipster black glasses. Oh God. It was hipster guy, friend of Stilts. I avoid all eye contact and start talking with a table behind me which seated a young man calling a man sitting at a table beside mine an asshole. As the night went on I found out the name caller was celebrating a birthday. He invited us lovely ladies to his table, but we declined. By this point Brad Pitt was hitting on me and we invited him to sit at our table. He is 12 years my senior and entertaining to say the least. He kept asking for my number but I was making him earn it.

Meanwhile, name caller decided that his friends and him were going to another bar. I gave him a hug and told him happy birthday. He says, "I know you probably won't, but text me later." and hands me his business card. Damn his pick up tactics. Challenge accepted. I continue to talk to Brad and decided he is cool enough to give my number to. Boy was I wrong.

Next Saturday while I am in bed and my phone is on silent across the room: 

9:48pm - "Fuuuuck!"
9:48pm "Mmmmm...."
9:53pm "Y u tease me"
10:01pm "Ok..im out if u wanna see me later...u look beautiful"
10:02pm "Btw...i didn't txt u today cuz i wanted to see if ud text me unsolicited...yep"
10:26pm "I think u kinda playin games with me.....mayb not....idk"
10:27pm "Im at steak for a drink...this is my calm bfore the storm...bfore i get DT"
10:30pm "yep seven txt and no reply....game"
11:32pm "last txt:::::hope i c u tonight...if not...then ok"
3:26am "wow"
3:41am "ok bye"

I contemplated apologizing for not having an attachment on my body for my phone, but who the hell apologizes for resting. Plus, I didn't want to further open lines of communication with this crazy. As for name caller, he has a girlfriend. He texted me asking for pictures and telling me I dropped the ball by not waking up next to him the morning after his birthday. I needed to research this guy, I mean he did give me his business card with his full name. Obviously you want me to know more about you. I typed his name into Facebook and his profile picture was of him and another girl in a hot tub. I clicked on the comments,"such a cute couple." Seriously. And she is VERY pretty. Why are guys douchers? In fact, EVERY profile picture he had was a picture of the couple. I hope he gets caught and she chops his dick off. 

Your friends will tell you, good guys are just intimidated and blah blah blah. Why do these losers have such big balls? I am apparently a magnet for crazies, douche bags, liars, and men with horrible fashion sense. Notice: I am not in the market for someone of the opposite sex, but can the next guy that tries to talk to me be normal...and rich? 

Yes Ma'ams, Please, and Thank Yous: Toddler Adventures with Aunt Diamond

Nowadays I spend my time sneaking around to eat ice cream.

Scene: Harleigh walks out into the living room after a nap to see my bestie and I with plain white bowls full of chocolate chip cookie dough blue bell ice cream and a spoon with gracious amounts of said ice cream shoved into our mouths. I see this minature version of my best friend and I look over and see her wide eyed.  

She says with a whisper, "We've been caught. Don't make any sudden movements." I continue to to stare at her as not to make eye contact with the three year old and say the first thing that comes to mind, "Mmmm this soup is so good." The bestie follows suit and we convince this little person with a stomach ache that we are indeed crazy adults eating soup. 

Sundays are supposed to be a day of rest according to some religions. Sunday around these parts however, are anything but restful. We start our day getting in some Jesus time (Charcher is what the 3 year old calls it) at 10:30 am. The bestie and I grow spiritually while we get a break from the monsters that most people call toddlers. After picking them up from the animal themed kids area, we were disappointed to find that mom and dad weren't going to take the girls shoe shopping like they had previously stated they would the day before. Damn it. That was going to be my nap time. 

We headed to the Louisiana Boardwalk as a first stop because it was a beautiful 80 degree day equipped with blue skies, animal shaped clouds and sunshine for miles. We went to one store to find disappointment, but that was no problem because there was a Rack Room Shoes across the trolly track. The monsters, still tame,and cooperative, to tried on several pair of shoes. Divas. We went through shoes with sparkles, shoes with animal print, and shoes that lit up. When we found the perfect pair of shoes that fit one sister, they didn't have a size for the other. 

Hopeful, I told the bestie that we would just go to the other Rack Room in Shreveport to get the girls their matching sparkly, leopard, light up sneaks. On the way out, Harleigh insisted that we stop and look at the Red River. She searched for mermaids in the what should have been named the Brown River freely flowing before buildings filled with gamblers, lights, and slot machines. I informed her of the alligators that would potentially eat her which resided in the murky waters because, as an Aunt, I am allowed to instill fear in my nieces. 

When we got to store number 3 we must have needed another nap. Scarlett refused to walk dropping to her knees in the middle of the parking lot attached by an arm to her mother. "Oh God", I thought, "here we go."Almost dragging her daughter to the sidewalk, the bestie finally let go of her youngest daughters hand. Harleigh and I started to walk in when we noticed the blonde hair, blue eyed, two year old acting as if she just witnessed a murder screaming on the side walk because she wanted to be held. We all walked away, and the princess came running...and screaming. 

You should have seen the stares, like we were unfit care givers. Fuck them. I have no sympathy for a child with capable legs for walking, WALKING. A child throwing a fit is no  grounds for adults to gasp and gawk at the other adults that are involved with that child. Turn around, mind your business, and let us tend to ours...noisely. 

Some days are like this...

 BUT

MOST days are like this...

After the embarassing melt down, this child and her sister decided to try on every shoe in sight, spill an egg full of freaking rice, and try to kill each other. I was over it. Exhausted and fed up I started to do what I don't believe in doing to children...yell. "Harleigh Stop! Don't make me tell you again! Scarlett sit your butt down! Y'all don't move! Why are you doing that?! I said Stop it!" Angrily trying to catch a breath, a worker walks by and asks if I need help. Ummm yes. I need you to put all these shoes back to their rightful homes and I am sorry, but as much as I feel your pain, I want you to take mine away right now with this knife. Remember slit vertically. 

Leaving with not a single pair of shoes, we stop at one final store. To Harleigh's dismay, the children were bound to buggies (baskets or carts for you non-southerners) because I, as well as their mother, refused to chase a child with unmatched shoes. I couldn't actually believe it was time to go when we actually found shoes because Hell seemed to be endless. Arriving home, kicking off my shoes, and sitting my ass on the couch was the best thing since red wine. I was completely over the day. Ready for an adult beverage. 

Sister needed the tears adjusted out of her

Shopping used to be a happy past time. Grocery shopping is much simpler and involves less effort. We walk into Brookshires and Harleigh immediately has to get her own minature version of the adult buggy. I fill her basket with colorful fruits and veggies while her mother fills the adult sized buggy with the rest of the food we craved. Going up and down aisles checking things off the list I say to the three year old terror, "Come on Dr. Harleigh." (She has been calling me Aunt Dr. Diamond since I graduated and is convinced that she will be a doctor too.) Without skipping a beat and utter joy beaming out of her pretty brown eyes, she says, "Thank you for calling me Dr. Harleigh, Dr. Diamond!" Of course she was more than welcome and not 2 minutes later I almost needed a doctor after Scarlett knocked over a jar of pickled something while sitting in her buggy. Sigh. Her we go again.

Lost Weekends, Babies, and Broke

When does good stuff start happening to good people?
Actually
How much bullshit does one have to go through before something good happens?

Maybe I'm not a good person. This would all make more sense.

There is always sunshine after the rain right?

Fuck this flood

I tried being positive and though I still have an inkling of positivity left somewhere inside of me, this shit fucking blows.

Ugh. I wish I could curse up a storm in everyday life. Damn those babies I live with. I can't fully express myself.

DAMN. SHIT. FUCK. ASS









Sooooooo that's how I was originally gonna start this blog post, but I forgot I was working on being positive. Here is the deal. I have a lot going on right now. A LOT and I can only ask for you guys to say a sweet prayer for me. Tonight I read this neat article (CLICK ME TO READ) about having inflated expectations leading to immortal disappointment. Something I've always known about myself. I'm that girl that deletes Facebook every summer because I feel like IIIIIIIIIII should be on the beach, but I'm not.

I knew life after graduation would be tough, but nothing could have prepared me for all the things that have happened in the last 4 weeks most that I've decided NOT to share with the public.

I feel a lot better now that I've discussed why I used to be happy before moving to hell (*reminder* Hell=Dallas) I had nothing to complain about. I had a job that I loved, I had money because I had a job, and I had a huge home...all to myself and Kiwi and Papaya.
Mostly, however, I feel better because I got to spend time with a friend who has made it in life per se. We spent several hours talking about struggles and overcoming them. Knowing someone who personally did it and knowing that it didn't happen over night and how content she is with life...that is what gave me some hope.

So I'm gonna talk about shit that I like.

• Ice cream.

I'm eating it as I type. Chocolate chip cookie dough. Ice cream makes EVERYTHING better...well except for upset stomach.

• Miss Kansas 2014. 

She wanted to use archery as her talent. (She couldn't due to a clause against projectiles on stage.)

BAD

ASS!

• Crushing candy.

This needs elaboration. I just started playing the week after my graduation, so I guess I've been going on a month now. It used to annoy me to walk into a room full of people crushing candy but when I had to go on a road trip with my temporary (I know this make sense, but it will later) boyfriend at the time and his 2 friends, I knew that this was something I wanted to try to keep my self sane and occupied. Crushed some candy and couldn't figure out what the big deal was. In fact it just pissed me off when I got stuck on a level. Then said boyfriends showed me what happens when you put special candies together. Add that new found information with mom showing me how to get unlimited lives on my phone and I hands down became an addict. 

Boom. On like Donkey Kong.

• Naked babies.

Babies are happy in general but there are none happier than the naked ones. They are free from the only restrictions that matter to them. Clothes. Add a pair of heels and you have one happy Diamond.

• All things vintage.

Who doesn't like a blast from the past? Obviously everyone, that is why Instagram is so damn popular. I can't explain why I like old things. Probably because I worked in a nursing home for so many years and I used to get smacked on the ass (positive reinforcement?) by the old guys.

I always dreamt of being in one of these. Damn my genes for small boobs. 

So I have found things that make my heart go lub dub!! Prayers, finger crossing, and positive thoughts are all appreciated. More happy posts to come soon. I mean how bad can things really get? (I immediately looked for wood.) So I'm broke and I have to cut my own puppies hair now. I think she looks cuter than ever. Go me!