Lazy AF Cooking with Bonus Lazy AF leftover recipes

I know, I know, since the whole quarantine thing many of you are actually using your time wisely (whatEVER) and actually expanding and practicing and improving your cooking skills because seriously what else do you have to do?

I'm a lazy AF cook on my best day - I mean I don't mind cooking, and sometimes I would actually like it, but when your kitchen is the size of a postage stamp and the only counter space you actually have is about 2 square feet on each side of the sing and head-blocked by the overhanging cabinets - it's difficult and you have to learn how to improvise and use shortcuts.

So if you're more like me, here are a couple of easy-peasy things that don't require much thought or extra ingredients or time.

IT ME.

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Put a package of boneless, skinless chicken breasts in your crockpot/slow cooker/instantpot.
(or thighs if you want. I don't care)
Put a block of cream cheese on top.
Cover it all with a jar of Pace Picante sauce. (I use medium, but you can use hot or mild if you're a weirdo)
Put the lid on and slow cook on low for around 6 hours.
Shred with forks.
Plop some on a warm tortilla and eat.
If you feelin' fancy, add a dollop of sour cream or guac, or lettuce & tomato.
You do you, Boo.

DAY 2 LEFTOVERS:
Roll up leftover chicken mess into leftover tortillas. (flour or corn, whatever, tho' I use flour for this)
Put roll-ups seam side down in a casserole dish.
Open a jar of alfredo sauce and mix in a can of Ro-Tel and maybe a little can of green chiles.
Pour over roll-ups and then you can sprinkle some mozzarella over top of that (if you want. Or not)
Cover with foil and put in the oven at 375 for about 20 minutes. Remove foil and put back in oven for about 10 more minutes or until cheese is bubbly.
VOILA - CHICKEN ENCHILADAS.

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Get a whole chicken. Massage it aaaaalllll over with some olive oil, a little minced garlic (or fresh. or powder. Whatever you already got in your cabinet), salt & pepper. Got rosemary or thyme? Groovy, add that on if you want. IDC.
If you have a lemon or an onion you can shove that up the chicken bum.

I like to roast mine for 15 minutes at 425 and then turn the oven down to 350 for about 20 minutes per pound. Make sure you stab it with your meat thermometer in the middle of the breast & the thigh & check if it's 165°.
Make some kind of veg to go on the side, I generally will put some asparagus, broccoli, & cauliflower covered in olive oil/salt/pepper on a baking sheet on the top rack over the chicken, for the last 30 minutes.
EAT THE DELICIOUS CRISPY SKIN FIRST and ENJOY.

DAY 2 LEFTOVERS, V. 1
Pick leftover chicken off bone. Heat in microwave.
Throw it in a saucepan and pour a jar of alfredo sauce on it, heat slowly while stirring.
If you have any asparagus left over, toss that in the sauce too.
Boil whatever noodles/veggie spirals/spaghetti squash.
Pour sauce over noodle-y stuff. EAT and ENJOY.

DAY 2 LEFTOVERS V. 2
Pick leftover chicken off the bone.
Cook some rice (I use boil in a bag or the instant pot).
Mix rice, chicken, leftover vegetables, a can of cream of mushroom/cream of chicken/cheddar cheese soup - any or all).
Call it casserole and eat.

DAY 2 LEFTOVERS V. 3
Pick leftover chicken off the bone.
Open a bag of frozen mixed peppers and onions (or cut your own julienne slices fresh, Fancypants)
Saute the peppers & onions in a little olive oil and whatever seasoning you want - maybe a little soy sauce or worcestershire (I don't know how to spell that so shut it I DON'T CARE AND YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT SO), maybe a little cooking wine, seasoned salt, whatever you like.
Add the chicken in once the peppers start getting tender.
When chicken is hot and veggies are how crunchy/tender you like them, grab your tortillas and VOILA, FAJITAS.
Once again, sour cream/guac/salsa/cheese if you like.

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Tune in next week for more Lazy AF Cooking, unless I'm too lazy to post it.

A quarter of a century. POOF.

You ever notice and think about how big of a difference context actually makes?
I mean when you think about being married for 25 years it's like WOW OMG YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN TOGETHER FOREVER IT IS AMAZING HOW DID YOU DO IT?

Or I GRADUATED COLLEGE 25 YEARS AGO I AM OLD AF WHERE DID MY LIFE GO WHAT HAVE I DONE?

Or, as in this case, MY KIDS JUST TURNED 25 TODAY WHICH IS IMPOSSIBLE BECAUSE THEY WERE ONLY BORN YESTERDAY.

And WOOOT I AM 25 YEARS OLD TODAY! YOUNG, FOOTLOOSE AND FANCY FREE! 

LIVING MY BEST LIFE! HITTING MY STRIDE, MAKING MY WAY, YEAH BABY!

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and with that, I leave you with The Annual Birthday Post Which Many Of You Have Memorized By Now. 

If you're new, then welcome to Our Story.

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In the year, 2525... I mean 25, 25.


Every year before I revise and repost, I remember. I relive. And even if it's just for one shining day, these memories make everything else fall away: all the petty irritations and frustrations, the dislikes and grudgy feelings...all of the things that, in the long run of life, aren't worth the importance we place on them.

It's been a long tough journey that has passed in the blink of an eye.

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THE DUE DATE: June 4th

THE BIRTH DATE: February 13th. Preemies for pre-valentine's day.

These children clearly get their lack of patience from me.  They were born at 24 weeks, or about 3 and 1/2 months early. They weighed just over 1 lb. each, and were about a foot long. I'm talkin' teeeeeny tiny. Micro-preemie, I think is what they are called now.

Anyway, this is my boy, at about a month old:

I woke up the morning of February 12th, headed for the bathroom, and after about 5 minutes I called out to the baby daddy, "Either I've lost all control of my body functions or my water broke".

I'll give you a hint - my functions were still under my control.

So natch we rushed to the hospital, where the stupid ass snot face condescending nurse (actually I love nurses in general, but this one? NOT SO MUCH) had me lay on a gurney for an hour and then said that I was fine, no fluid was "leaking" (I know, gross), and the pains in my back and belly were just muscles stretching, NOT CONTRACTIONS...and then she tried to send us home. 

Me being me, I caused a scene.

Hey, guess who ended up being right about me being in labor?

Here is my little girl, at about a month old:

The doctors tried to stop my labor for 24 hours, but apparently my kids were having none of that. On the 13th of February, my boy arrived in the usual way - of course, I was knocked out for the entire thing. My daughter was still safe and secure in her bedwomb -- the idea was to let her 'cook' a little longer (which would have been weird to have twins with different birthdays, right?).  So they were wheeling me into recovery when Miss Contrary's heart rate dropped to zero, and they did a SUPERFAST emergency C-Section to get her out. Evidently she didn't like being alone.
So it was like Twins Two Ways, with extra Mommy Staples.
This is also where I discovered my love of morphine. MMMMMMORPHINE.

Their ears were still folded down (WEIRD! I didn't even know ears did that until my kids were born. It was like puppy ears or something), and their lungs were not completely developed, and their little hearts were working overtime/doubletime.

They struggled for every single breath. They fought to live.

And so they did. And so they have.

Thank you, God.

Thank you for this little miracle....(my girl at about 2 months)

and this little miracle...(my boy at about 3 1/2 months)

The doctors gave them less than a 50% chance of survival.

Fortunately they got my stubborn genes as well as my temperamental ones, because my kids wouldn't listen to percentages; they went all HAN SOLO and were like NEVER TELL ME THE ODDS!

Their hearts were overworked, their lungs were and are covered in scar tissue, they are cursed with keloid scars as well as scars from perc lines and picc lines and a million little junkie scars on arms and feet from being pricked with lancets every hour. They have scarred veins, they had damaging bleeding in their brains, preventing brain growth. And yet...    

Becca's first day home from the hospital! Nearly 4 months old and not even 5 lbs. I still have this amazingly tiny dress - I swear it's barely bigger than Barbie size. Those booties she has on? The foot part is less than 2 inches long. Each twin came home attached to oxygen and an apnea monitor - whenever we all went anywhere together it looked as though we were leaving home for a month, so laden were we with electronic equipment, oxygen tanks, diaper bags, strollers...which is partly why I became the hermit I am today. #Lazy

Here they're about 7 or 8 months old, I think (did I ever mention that I am TERRIBLE about labeling pictures? Because I am). Clearly Becca was already trying to wear some sort of tiara:

One morning I discovered that my daughter knew how to climb into her brother's crib.

When Becca was about two, this is what "Go get ready for bed" meant:


Josh had the softest, wispiest hair so I let it grow and grow... until that time I gave him a buzz-cut and he's been sporting a Greg Brady WhiteBoy 'Fro ever since. Unless I cut it myself, in which case he looks sort of like he's got the mange. #TrueStory

My High School Graduate 

There were middle-of-the-night phone calls with doctors on the other end of the line telling me that they didn't think THIS twin or THAT twin would make it through the night- so we'd rush to the hospital to sit and put our hands in the "baby terrarium", as I thought of them, and listen to the beeps and the whooshing of the ventilator and wait for the inevitable. There were six months in the NICU and 3 or 4 Thanksgivings and Christmases spent in the hospital. For awhile I thought they were going to name a wing of the children's ward after us, or at least keep "our" room in reserve.

There was RSV and BPD and ROP and a bunch of other things with initials that I barely understood.
There was double hernia surgery and laser eye surgery and surgery to correct crossed eyes. 

There were staph infections and thrush and even a broken arm that was caused by changing my son's shirt whilst in the NICU - he of the tiny little brittle bones. There were breathing treatments and nebulizers and oxygen tanks and albuteral and lasix and digoxin and tegretol and synthroid and constantly changing medications and frequent seizures and paralyzing fear (well, that last thing was *me*).

I remember a tiny Becca setting her pacifier down in something that had spilled...she picked it up, took a suck, and said, "What the hell is all over this?!" It made me laugh so much that I couldn't even correct her.

I remember one single sentence of absolutely clear speech from Joshua in 21 years...he was sick and angry and yelled, "I WANT MY BOTTLE!"  It was astounding and amazing and thank goodness my mother witnessed it or I would have thought my ears were playing tricks on me.

TWENTY ONE. 

(or The One Where Joshua Gives Duckface)

This milestone is especially important for Joshua, as he has already outlived all early predictions of life-span. Though it's a little like living under the Sword of Damocles, we do not give in or give up. And despite the fact that they were and are so fragile health-wise, for the last 10-12 years I can count on one hand the number of times they've had to go to the doctor or hospital. 

2 Twins at 22

(YES, Winnie The Pooh is still on the walls. Joshua loves Pooh bear)

*Mystery Of The Missing 23*

 2 @ 24 ea.

(or the one where that jackass boychild purposely refuses to look at the camera for 20 takes
and also is still wearing breakfast on his face because BRAT.)

And the QUARTER OF A CENTURY MARK.

I swear, the older this boychild gets, the more he is determined to thwart my picture taking.

And GirlMinion had to get glasses this year at last. Of course being the weirdo she is, she has one nearsighted eye and one farsighted eye. 

OF COURSE he was all about a selfie with his sister, though.

How could I not believe in miracles? When I look upon those miracles every day of my life.

I love you, my babies. I have been and will always be thankful for every breath that you take, every blink of your eyes, every morning that you wake. I love you with everything inside me.

You still make me laugh, you still make me cry, you still make me want to smack you upside your silly little bratty heads.

If all the world was a beach, I would love you more than all the grains of sand added together. Times infinity.

Liars liars liars yeah, they're gonna getchoo

Well FIRST of all, did I ever tell you that story of how I HATE BEING TOLD NO??

Because Netgalley (may they burn in hell) DENIED ME when I requested an advance copy of  Liars' Legacy, Jack & Jill #2 by Taylor Stevens - ME, can you believe it? There should be a law against that if you ask me.
Also I hate and fear rejection, so there's that.

Never let it be said that I'm a quitter though.
I DO NOT PLAY. I GOT ME AN ARC TO READ.

This *could* be read as a standalone, but if I'm being honest the action starts RIGHT FROM THE OPEN and it's complex with several players, and I feel like you would be more comfortable sliding right into the story if you read Liars' Paradox FIRST.
Otherwise the first 1/3 of the book might be a bit confusing as you try to figure out the main players, as it picks up just past where the last book finished, which I LOOOVE.
(go get Liars' Paradox on your Kindle - only $2.99 right now! I'll wait.)

The only thing I can reasonably compare this to is the fun of a John Wick assassin free-for-all, and as we all know, I have a soft spot for the assassins.

This way you'll be all caught up by the time Liars' Legacy is published on December 31st, and it'll be like binge-watching your favorite show that only has two season dropped on Hulu so far but with books.

ALSO I just want to acknowledge and thank Taylor Stevens for letting me be her secret muse, because I KNEW as soon as I read these two lines: "mostly because she wasn't the type that people wanted to have as a friend," and "analog agent working in a digital world," that CLEARLY I was the inspiration here. IT ME.
(okay so maybe I wasn't even a thought near her mind but YOU DON'T KNOW IT COULD BE ME SO SHUTTIE)

In the first book, I found the main characters more intriguing, interesting, layered, and engaging rather than actually likable, which is totally okay for me - I don't have to like you to pay attention to you.  They've grown on me though, for sure, and they're even more fascinating in this new book.
They matter to me even more - I got invested in their lives.

The peeling away of layers of deception and disguise and the quick-change artistry.
The advance thinking chess-like 'game' that is their lifestyle, out of habit AND necessity.
They're pretty freaking brilliant, but with all too real weaknesses and flaws.

With a few more players added, with their own quirks and habits and weirdness and love of violence, well it just brings some more depth, some more layers, to the story.

There is so much conflict, both internal and external, that you really do want to just speed through and keep reading to get to the end as fast as possible because YOU HAVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.  Remember when you got that OG Super Mario World on Super Nintendo and you didn't sleep for like four days because you had to go JUST ONE MORE level, beat one more boss? Like that.

As you know, I'm not fixin' to give you any more plotline or story than that, because YOU WILL READ IT FOR YOURSELF and I would hate to accidentally spoil it for you. *evil laugh*

Save enough on the Gift Card that is sure to be in your stocking and pre-order, because the publishing date is December 31 and if you're old AF like me, you will want to spend your New Year's Eve snuggled up in a blankie with a hot toddy (or Bailey's Vanilla Cinnamon on the rocks, YUM), with a new good book and the Rockin' NY Eve countdown muted on the TeeVee, ringin' the new year in RIGHT.

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Also don't forget all those people you know with birthdays in January and February - the perfect gift would be both Liars' books!
Is all I'm saying.

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**disclaimery things: I used my ninja-like stealth skills to hack someone's account and read THEIR netgalley approved request of this book SO TAKE THAT NETGALLEY HA!
***Okay that is a total bold-faced lie but it sounds cool anyway. A friend did let me read an ARC from NG because I can totally be the world's biggest pest and eventually you'll do what I want just to escape the waterboard-like torture I can inflict upon a person without even breaking a sweat. It's a talent.

♫ He's The Wild One, ooh yeah he's a real wild child.

I KNOW - you thought I was never going to get this review up!

I was going to be all "I savored this book like a fine wine" so I could sound fancy but seriously who am I kidding, everyone knows I like $5 screw top sweet wine.

I could drink like a whole bottle of that right now. 

OR MAYBE I ALREADY DID, YOU DON'T KNOW.

I *was* however reading with my Picky Eyes because doy, ARC, uncorrected!
Those take me a little longer because I have to force myself to slow down and not zoom through unbarriered and gobble it all up at once.

**Transparency disclaimer: I have to admit this is a leeeetle bit of a Gimme because I knew going in that I was going to looooove this as much as I do the other #PeterAsh books, unless of course somehow author NickPetrie sustained some sort of subdural hematoma or other brain injury or split personality disorder (OMG IT IS SO A THING SHUT UP YOU DO NOT KNOW BECAUSE ARE YOU A DOCTOR? NO YOU ARE NOT) and completely changed the character and his writing style. Luckily for me us fans- and Nick himself of course- that does not appear to have happened.

You know I read a LO O O O OT of different series, they're my favorites. You've seen my book lists and recommendations and I have argued belligerently had discussions with nimrods people who DO NOT RE-READ THEIR BOOKS AND HOW IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED?
Seriously, when you're in a certain mood and want to have certain feels, you reach for the comforting words of THIS author and THAT particular book in the series because it is full of what you need to cure what ails you, at least for a moment when you are lost in the story.

Okay wait, this is not at all where I was going.
Series (serieses? series'?), right.

Out of the tens of...I don't even know how many...series I've read, there are less than a handful that I've ever thought, "No, THIS is the best one!" after every. single. book.
And then came Peter Ash.
And once again, the newest book is my newest favorite of the series.

This one doesn't even have much of a buildup to the action - chapter two and BAM! it was right in my face and I was anxious and curious and wondering and worrying.
I worry about Peter, you know. I get anxious for him. I FRET over him and the things he goes through and feels and thinks.
There are hints of dark humor in fight scenes that made me laugh out loud.
One of my favorite lines in the book tickled me because of the context and also gave me a deeper appreciation for my beloved thick hardback first editions, "You can't do that with a paperback."
At one point I was racing along, caught up in the story that I knew was leading right to the climax which made me a little sad because that's nearly the end and then I looked and THERE WAS WAAAYYY TOO MUCH BOOK LEFT AND WHAT ELSE COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN HERE AND PASS ME THE ZOLOFT.
And that is how I know that the author is an excellent writer and the book is an excellent book.

Yeah, that's pretty much all the actual book information you're getting because it is so much more fun to uncover it for yourself WHILE YOU READ IT, right?
All you need to do is trust me (which you should already be doing) and start reading.

I pretty much dig these loners that aren't superheroes, they're not perfect, they're full of hard edges and rough layers and sometimes they fuck shit up either accidentally or on purpose, they can be emotionally crippled or unavailable and I am getting so turned on right now.
#PeterAsh - If lovin' is you is wrong, I DON'T WANNA BE RIGHT.

Wait. Where was I going with that? I keep getting off track.

What I meant was regardless of all that, they try to do the right thing  and do it the best way they know how, and that is why I love them.
Plus I am so much of all that myself so I feel like we have a lot in common only I am not nearly as skilled in combat or self-preservation BUT I COULD BE SOME DAY so you better just watch yourself, missy.

ALSO I learn stuff from these books so technically Nick Petrie IS MAKING ME SMARTER.
These books are educational you know!
Plus it was pretty groovy that this book was featuring Iceland and last year I did a book review that referenced Iceland and some of its practices which only proves that WE ARE RIDING THE SAME WAVELENGTH BRO which makes me even cooler, so.

I'm not going to tell you to GO PREORDER THIS BOOK RIGHT NOW! because if you're a fan and you're smart then you've already done that in anticipation.
I AM going to tell you that if you haven't read this series yet, START RIGHT HERE right now.

Lookit I'm giving you plenty of advance notice so that you can start reading at the beginning and get caught up by the time this new one is on the market January 14th and you'll have those Christmas gift cards burning a hole in your pocket and now I've given you the precious gift of how to spend them and saved you all the dithering.
YOU ARE WELCOME.
Now go do what I say and don't make me come looking for you because neither of us wants that.
For different reasons. #Lazy

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**secondary disclaimer: I was given a free ARC of this book because I pestered the author for several months and I am receiving no other compensation except the glory of getting to read it before most everyone else. I did possibly swear a blood oath (willingly and without being asked, in fact, there might have been some kind of protestation against it but I didn't pay any mind to that) to give an honest review for that privilege. Now I might lie to you about some things in life (well OF COURSE those pants don't make your butt look more like a whole junkYARD in the trunk)(and sure, love ya too, mmhmm whatever) but I would never ever commit the egregious sin of lying to you about a book.
I'M NOT A MONSTER YOU KNOW.

♫♪ Talkin' about my generation ♫♪

The last few days I've had to sit back and laugh as I watch all the "Generation Wars" ramping up, much like the "MommyBlogger Wars" a few years ago.

I can't even keep track of what generation I'm supposed to be, GenX I guess because really that one sounds the coolest so it probably is mine.
Also WTF even is Generation Jones? Because apparently I'm at the tail end of that as well, being born in 1968.

I'm going with JoneX. That's my generation.
If you're cool enough I'll let you use that for yourself but don't hold your breath.

My generation is punk and goth and indie music. It's huge hair and cutout sweatshirt necks. It's layered tank tops and leg warmers and shiny metallic jazzercise tights. It's British Knights and Kaepa tennies with the upside down laces. It's bulky thigh length sweaters over turtlenecks with sweater skirts over long john pants. It's clove cigarettes and Strawberry Hill wine. Culottes and (American style) knickers, prairie blouses, Jams shorts and Jellies shoes. It's fingerless lace gloves and layered tutus over torn fishnets with combat boots. It's poodle perms and big round frames for our glasses, sparkly blue eyeshadow and green mascara, banana clips and feathering combs and those stretchy round plastic comb-like headbands.

We were weird and unique and we liked it that way. I still do.

I mean seriously WE are the only ones who ever learned how to actually program a VCR to videotape multiple soap operas on multiple channels during the day while we were in high school/college classes and then program them to tape movies off HBO, Showtime and Skinemax so we could watch all the movies when we were stuck at home and not out carousing and cruising The Strip with our friends.
WE ALONE could squeeze that fourth movie on that VHS tape by carefully running back the credits to the end of the movie, and starting the next at that SPLIT SECOND after the HBO logo ended at the beginning of the next movie, all using three remote controls for TV, VCR, and cable box.

TOP THAT, YOU ROKU FIRESTICK DVRers with your fancy voice controls!

Also we had the bestworst music. You either love it or you lovehate it, and even the country music was so much better.

I know we all think our own was probably the best (and although I don't really like kids of any age, I find the current group of youngsters/young adults are bright and tolerant and learning to fight for their right to paaaaaartay what's right)... but I mean really, in the grand scheme of Things That Actually Affect Your Really For Real Life...does it matter?

It appears that ALL the generations have some things in common, like the willingness to argue over EVERY. DAMN. STUPID. THING. EVER and also take themselves far too seriously in the broadest generalizations.
Have we just run out of better things about which to argue?
Is this like why Hollywood keeps making the same exact movies over and over, like we truly need YET ANOTHER WHOLE VERSION/GENERATION OF A CHARLIE'S ANGELS MOVIE OMG NO THANK YOU PLEASE!

Some of y'all need to just

SNL Simma Down Now GIF from Snl GIFs

A Pre-Review, if you will.

So I have some quirky habits.
Most of them you know, like how after 3 days the open package of  lunchmeat gets tossed in the trash if it isn't eaten because IT HAS A SMELL I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOU SAY.
And how I feel it's unsanitary to take the batteries out of your Rabbit to use for your electric toothbrush.
Also I prefer my desktop computer with the ergonomic keyboard more than any other tech in this entire house, which is why my phone is usually wherever I'm not, and often dead.

What you may not know is that when I am super excited to read an ARC that I plan to review, I like to read it sitting at my desk so I can take Live Notes right here for the stuff I want to remember.
I used to read them in bed like I do everything else, but then I end up with every third page dog-eared and underlined  and IT IS MY PRECIOUS and I do not want to harm THE SPECIAL.

Author-signed books are my favorite and also at the top of the list of Things I'll Save In A Fire.
No worries, the kids are for sure a strong number two on the list.
Well, my purse and the kids.
And pictures.
So, the kids, my purse, and photo albums, solid #2.
Okay, maybe 3. But a HARD 3. I mean really, there are two kids, one can help get the other out while I grab the car keys and vacation money jar.
I'm going to need those, right?
Kids, firm three. For reals.

Okay so I just got THIS (Hooray for me! None for you! Which is double the pleasure for me!)

in the mail the other day and while I have been ever-so-anxiously awaiting its arrival, now I'm scared to start it because I know it's going to be over WAY TOO SOON and then I have to wait a WHOLE YEAR for another one and MAN IT IS SO HARD TO BE A NUMBER ONE FAN READER!

There is a war between instant and delayed gratification happening here.
Sorry if it causes  earthquakes or tsunamis and such near you - it's pretty intense.
If I get the housework ALL done and work work ALL done, this will be my reward tonight.

I will let you know how it turns out - but just get ready to add this title (and really ALL the #PeterAsh by @NickPetrie books) to your Christmas and birthday wish lists, because I can already tell it's gonna be a good one.

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In the words of The Terminator, "I'll be back."

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In the words of C.S. Lewis, "You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me."

#TrueStory Although I would probably substitute coffee for tea.
Also the exception is that Goldfinch book, which was about 300 pages way too long and wordy and seriously how many chapters can a person reasonably be expected to tolerate reading about getting drunk and hurling? The answer is "considerably less times than were written about in that book."

cuttlefish and underwear.

You notice how when every single tentacle of your life is weighted down with stress (yes tentacle because CUTTLEFISH ARE AWESOME and I plan to come back as one only you will never see me because they have the best camouflage ever even better than Mystique because they can change color and texture AND HALF AT A TIME like when you order a half pepperoni half ham & pineapple pizza and Mystique could not even do that AT ALL)...

What? I forgot what I was saying.

Oh STRESS, tentacles, right.

For me, having the stress lifted off one or two of those areas completely causes a nearly tangible effect, and I can feel the weight lifting. It's like I have a full body sigh and everything relaxes, from my neck to hips to toes, my guts and lungs and brain, all at once.  I can actually feel my shoulders settling down to...well, shoulder height, instead of being all crunched up under my ears when I didn't even realize they were there.

Honestly the feeling is close to euphoria. I mean I don't feel like going dancing in the rain or coming to a Halloween party at your house (NO THANK YOU SORRY AND IF I ALREADY SAID YES MY APOLOGIES BECAUSE I WILL NOT BE SHOWING UP) or anything like that, but the utter sense of relief...it's like magic.

Losing the stress also made me realize exactly how many stress triggers I have.  WOW. You don't even know.  I mean I'm horrible online all the time anyway and you already knew that, but I've been a pretty horrible person in real life the last couple-three years too. 

I had so many triggers that I didn't even know what they all were.

SO many buttons just waiting to be pushed. Or touched. Or breathed on. 

 

Things have been pretty dire around here the last few years. 

I mean I've pretty much been poor-ish most of my life and it's nothin' but a thing...but the last 2 or three years, it's been a trial.

Seriously some weeks the budget was like ... is Joshua going to have chicken in his stew this week or will he have to go vegetarian?

eBay sales used to support us but some months we're lucky to make a hundred bucks and that's no exaggeration. Of course I'm so damn mad at them anyway, because they keep changing the formats and the layouts and the requirements to be a "Power Seller."  I mean I'm a TOP SELLER but I can't get my stuff on the first pages of keyword search because I don't take all their..."advice," and if it was left in their hands I'd list everything for .99 or best offer with free shipping and free returns and list 1K items per week. THEN I'd get noticed and sell more while of course losing money on everything.

via GIPHY

ANYWAY.

I was stressed over money every day but didn't even realize how bad it was on my body & mind.

So the thing happened and Becca got a new job, which equals happier attitude (and less GIRL IMA RIP OFF YOUR ARM AND BEAT YOU WITH IT from me) and more money and BOOM, less stress.
Then I got some side jobs I can do from home which are actually earning $ AND the biggie (and also one of the points I've been getting to here) - I FEEL PRODUCTIVE.

I am contributing more to my own household, AND taking back the majority of support of my family, which makes me feel useful and less like a loser at life and motherhood and all the things.

Being productive and busy and useful build a YUGE barrier against depression and anxiety for me.

I mean money doesn't buy happiness but I can tell you it almost brought me to tears when Becca asked if we had enough so she could get new underwear and I was able to unhesitatingly say YES! and bravely added AND GET ME SOME TOO PLEASE without even stopping to calculate.

If you've ever been actually, truly poor, you'll know just how excellent that feels.

It's like the thrill of victory.

I guess what I'm getting at here is that I slowly feel like the person I was 10 years ago is kind of waking up again.  The little things that could (and have) sent me into a shrieking frenzy are not so important now. 

My shoulders are where they should be (most of the time).

The stomachflutter of anxiety is nearly completely gone many days in a row

The angst is at least a foot away from me and sliding.

OH, I still have plenty of stress to go around, but at least it's more focused now, like on this boy of mine. That's never going to go away, and it's easier to carry.

Maybe Becca's not pushing my buttons so much because she's happier.

Maybe I just don't notice her doing it because I'm less stressed.

Maybe I'm finally on the downhill side and sliding to the finish line of menopause.

Maybe I'm evolving. (fingers crossed for cuttlefish evolution!)

Whatever it is, I'll take it.

Some stuff and things and so then that happened.

Here's how I know your inspirational cliches don't work - specifically "If you dream it, you can achieve it" because last night I dreamed that I was driving a rainbow van off a cliff but at the same time I was across the canyon watching it happen, and then I walked into a fountain and tried to punch some dude but strangely my arms weren't working and THEN THERE WAS A DRONE OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW and it woke me up and wasn't there and also I dreamed I was awake but I wasn't and didn't know for sure until I was trying to talk and say HEY AM I EVEN AWAKE.

Okay "life coach," you tell me how to achieve that.
Also tell me WHY WOULD I EVEN WANT TO. 

I've been writing #FakeInspirationalCrap for years, *I* should be YOUR life coach because mine can actually be applied to real life.

---

I've posted about the ghost that lives here (with photographic evidence!) a couple times over the years, but things have been pretty quiet and ghost-free for quite some time. 

So for our eBay business, I keep the inventory in sealed tubs with handle-lock lids.

A few days ago we were looking for a dress in a tub that resides in my "dining" room - a tub that either Becca or I have been through numerous times in the past few months.

Only this time, there was a bottlecap right near the top of the pile.

A bent bottlecap.

A bent beer bottlecap.

A bent Tecate "No Retornable" beer bottlecap.

Like this, only bent a little across the top.

Okay, maybe not weird for many of you, but here's what:

I have been through that dress tub and everything in it, down to the bottom, at least 50 times whenever I am looking for a dress listed at a certain time.
Anything that's been listed has been checked thoroughly, pockets and all, at least 2-3 times.

Also, I do not drink beer.

Also ALSO, I do not buy beer.

Also also ALSO, if I did buy beer, I doubt I would buy Tecate. 

Also also also ALSO, I don't even have a bottle opener.

WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?

How did it get in that sealed tub of clothes?

How did it even get in my house?

Who opened it?

Did someone come in my house and drink a beer and unstack 3 tubs of clothes

just to put their bottlecap in the bottom sealed tub and then restack everything again?

I mean nobody here takes ambien or any sleeping pills that might make us do weird sleep things.

And where is the bottle? There is no bottle. There hasn't been a bottle.

I don't ever have visitors, so no one has come over and brought their own beer.

If it was the ghost, who bought the beer for them? Or can he or she make themselves corporeal long enough to drink a beer? Or are they starting a bottlecap collection?

(HEY WHO ELSE DID THIS WHEN THEY WERE A KID AND NAILED BOTTLECAPS TO A BOARD?)

I tried to get an EVP recorded while asking any ghosts that might've been hanging around but all I got was the standard old "run, get out, I'm going to kill you,"** etc etc blahblahblah so I don't even count that. I mean bitchghost please, I've been in this house over 20 years, you've had your chance.

So that happened.

**#fakenews, no EVP captured at all but I did try.

---

I was very recently reminded how lovely and refreshing and wonderful it is to be thought of, to be included, to be remembered, to be invited, even when the inviter knows full well you'll most likely have to decline.

So I want to remind YOU to please not forget your introverts. Don't forget your caregivers. Don't forget about those of us who really do hate to have to say NO all the time because there's just no way to make it happen.
Please keep inviting us. Please let us know you think of us once in awhile. Please be prepared to be okay with us saying no.
We hate having to say it sometimes as much as you hate having to hear it.
But at least we know you care.
And even if we forget to say it, we adore you for the thought.

This has been an Introvert and/or Chronic CareGiver Service Announcement.

Double the fun! Or more likely double, double, toil and trouble.

Here we are, at the annual (minus last year because ... I don't even remember, I just don't think I was in a good head space at the time) BIRTHDAY POST!
I don't guess anyone really missed it last year - I mean if you've followed this blog for any length of time you've probably got the Birthday Post memorized by now.

---

WE HAVE ARRIVED AT YEAR 24.
Sort of a boring-ish year...next year will be one of the "milestone" birthdays so we're keeping it pretty low key. As yooooozsh. (How do you even spell that? Like "usual" only the front part of the word)

ANYWAY. If this is your first time at the Annual Birthday Post, welcome! It's the totally true and somewhat traumatic story of my kids' birth.
Is Post Traumatic Birth Syndrome a thing?
It should be. I think I have it.
Also there are LOTS. OF. PICTURES.

---

Every year before I revise and repost, I remember. I relive. And even if it's just for one shining day, these memories make everything else fall away: all the petty irritations and frustrations, the dislikes and grudgy feelings...all of the things that, in the long run of life, aren't worth the importance we place on them. 

It's been a long tough journey that has passed in the blink of an eye.

---

---

THE DUE DATE: June 4th

THE BIRTH DATE: February 13th. Preemies for pre-valentine's day.

These children clearly get their lack of patience from me.  They were born at 24 weeks, or about 3 and 1/2 months early. They weighed just over 1 lb. each, and were about a foot long. I'm talkin' teeeeeny tiny. Micro-preemie, I think is what they are called now.

Anyway, this is my boy, at about a month old:

I woke up the morning of February 12th, headed for the bathroom, and after about 5 minutes I called out to the baby daddy, "Either I've lost all control of my body functions or my water broke".

I'll give you a hint - my functions were still under my control.

So natch we rushed to the hospital, where the stupid ass snot face condescending nurse (actually I love nurses in general, but this one? NOT SO MUCH) had me lay on a gurney for an hour and then said that I was fine, no fluid was "leaking" (I know, gross), and the pains in my back and belly were just muscles stretching, NOT CONTRACTIONS...and then she tried to send us home. 

Me being me, I caused a scene.

Hey, guess who ended up being right about me being in labor?

Here is my little girl, at about a month old:

The doctors tried to stop my labor for 24 hours, but apparently my kids were having none of that. On the 13th of February, my boy arrived in the usual way - of course, I was knocked out for the entire thing. My daughter was still safe and secure in her bedwomb -- the idea was to let her 'cook' a little longer (which would have been weird to have twins with different birthdays, right?).  So they were wheeling me into recovery when Miss Contrary's heart rate dropped to zero, and they did a SUPERFAST emergency C-Section to get her out. Evidently she didn't like being alone.
So it was like Twins Two Ways, with extra Mommy Staples.
This is also where I discovered my love of morphine. MMMMMMORPHINE.

Their ears were still folded down (WEIRD! I didn't even know ears did that until my kids were born. It was like puppy ears or something), and their lungs were not completely developed, and their little hearts were working overtime/doubletime.

They struggled for every single breath. They fought to live.

And so they did. And so they have.

Thank you, God.

Thank you for this little miracle....(my girl at about 2 months)

and this little miracle...(my boy at about 3 1/2 months)

The doctors gave them less than a 50% chance of survival.

Fortunately they got my stubborn genes as well as my temperamental ones, because my kids wouldn't listen to percentages; they went all HAN SOLO and were like NEVER TELL ME THE ODDS!

Their hearts were overworked, their lungs were and are covered in scar tissue, they are cursed with keloid scars as well as scars from perc lines and picc lines and a million little junkie scars on arms and feet from being pricked with lancets every hour. They have scarred veins, they had damaging bleeding in their brains, preventing brain growth. And yet...    

Becca's first day home from the hospital! Nearly 4 months old and not even 5 lbs. I still have this amazingly tiny dress - I swear it's barely bigger than Barbie size. Those booties she has on? The foot part is less than 2 inches long. Each twin came home attached to oxygen and an apnea monitor - whenever we all went anywhere together it looked as though we were leaving home for a month, so laden were we with electronic equipment, oxygen tanks, diaper bags, strollers...which is partly why I became the hermit I am today. #Lazy

Here they're about 7 or 8 months old, I think (did I ever mention that I am TERRIBLE about labeling pictures? Because I am). Clearly Becca was already trying to wear some sort of tiara:

One morning I discovered that my daughter knew how to climb into her brother's crib.

When Becca was about two, this is what "Go get ready for bed" meant:


Josh had the softest, wispiest hair so I let it grow and grow... until that time I gave him a buzz-cut and he's been sporting a Greg Brady WhiteBoy 'Fro ever since. Unless I cut it myself, in which case he looks sort of like he's got the mange. #TrueStory

My High School Graduate 

There were middle-of-the-night phone calls with doctors on the other end of the line telling me that they didn't think THIS twin or THAT twin would make it through the night- so we'd rush to the hospital to sit and put our hands in the "baby terrarium", as I thought of them, and listen to the beeps and the whooshing of the ventilator and wait for the inevitable. There were six months in the NICU and 3 or 4 Thanksgivings and Christmases spent in the hospital. For awhile I thought they were going to name a wing of the children's ward after us, or at least keep "our" room in reserve.

There was RSV and BPD and ROP and a bunch of other things with initials that I barely understood.
There was double hernia surgery and laser eye surgery and surgery to correct crossed eyes. 

There were staph infections and even a broken arm that was caused by changing my son's shirt whilst in the NICU - he of the tiny little brittle bones. There were breathing treatments and nebulizers and oxygen tanks and albuteral and lasix and digoxin and tegretol and synthroid and constantly changing medications and frequent seizures and paralyzing fear (well, that last thing was *me*).

I remember a tiny Becca setting her pacifier down in something that had spilled...she picked it up, took a suck, and said, "What the hell is all over this?!" It made me laugh so much that I couldn't even correct her.

I remember one single sentence of absolutely clear speech from Joshua in 21 years...he was sick and angry and yelled, "I WANT MY BOTTLE!"  It was astounding and amazing and thank goodness my mother witnessed it or I would have thought my ears were playing tricks on me.

TWENTY ONE. 

(or The One Where Joshua Gives Duckface)

This milestone is especially important for Joshua, as he has already outlived all early predictions of life-span. Though it's a little like living under the Sword of Damocles, we do not give in or give up. And despite the fact that they were and are so fragile health-wise, for the last 10-12 years I can count on one hand the number of times they've had to go to the doctor or hospital. 

2 Twins at 22

(YES, Winnie The Pooh is still on the walls. Joshua loves Pooh bear)

*Mystery Of The Missing 23*

AND currently 2 @ 24 ea.

(or the one where that jackass boychild purposely refuses to look at the camera for 20 takes
and also is still wearing breakfast on his face because BRAT.)

How could I not believe in miracles? When I look upon those miracles every day of my life.

I love you, my babies. I have been and will always be thankful for every breath that you take, every blink of your eyes, every morning that you wake. I love you with everything inside me.

You still make me laugh, you still make me cry, you still make me want to smack you upside your silly little bratty heads.

If all the world was a beach, I would love you more than all the grains of sand added together. Times infinity.