Tuesday, October 08, 2019

Carpe Diem (without the Beans)


It's been a hard couple of hours.  Over the weekend, Franklin damaged his eye on something in the house or yard.  He was still in good spirits and after the past six months of nursing back to health from a bacterial infection, things were on the mend.

I made the appointment for Mr Beans and we were faced with a ruptured eyeball.  We could take a wait and see approach(it could just explode at any time and then what would we be faced with?), have an expensive surgery to save the eye or have it removed completely.  Our only option would have been for removal and I wasn't sure I could put him through that at this age.

I rescued him and Ginger when Snowflake was two years old.  They were dumped at a shelter after their owner sold their puppies and their kid was suddenly "allergic to pugs."  Frank didn't like people, specifically men and let them know it.  While this is unnatural for a pug, he eventually mellowed out over the years.  

Thinking about putting him through surgery and wearing a cone for two weeks AND more antibiotics felt like too much!  The guilt I feel is so heavy because Frank was a fighter.  I am so thankful my love came with me to the vet.  He wanted him to have the surgery.  I could not.  Should I have?  I don't know, but I do know that I have been crying for hours on end.  I opted to work from home because I couldn't be a red eyed, stuffed up ball of raw dough at my desk.

When I made the decision, my husband said he couldn't be in the room.  They took Frank away to put a catheter in him and I waited alone for a very long time.  They had trouble getting the line in.  But brought him in, they did.  He was wearing his little soft pajamas I got him.  The most tragic thing is that I do not believe that he wanted to go!  He fought against it.  I told him how much I loved him and how sorry I was.  

He was laying down on his side.  He went limp and then with the second injection, his little heart stopped beating.  His eye open.  My heart breaking, my soul stupefied and stuttering.  

So you try and rationalize things.  And then you second guess yourself.  He was gaining weight and getting better!  Yet, he was fragile and stumbly.  Finally found a great food he liked!  I had to pill him every morning.  That FUCKING eyeball.  That fucking, fucking eyeball.

I am traumatized by witnessing the passing of that sweet soul.  So I sit here, working from home.  I deleted all of my social media and this is the only thing left.  It is comforting and somewhat soothing to write it out.  

I put away his special food.  I have the blankets that he slept on balled up next to me.  I grab them and smell them and squeeze them.  I made a mini shrine on the buffet with his dog bowl with the food he didn't finish in it.  His little wool sweater and antlers he loved so much in the bowl.  My heart breaks.

Mr Beans was pure love and he lived for me.   Lived for ME!  So genuine and loyal.  Life is a precious, fragile gift.  It can change at any moment.  For good or for bad, there is always hope.  When you lose hope, you lose everything that Mr Beans stood for in this world.  Kindness, love, compassion, warmth and forgiveness.  I know I have to forgive myself, but it is hard!

Mr Beans was known for his "pirhanna" move in his healthful years.  He would lunge at your face for a face smash with you.  As he got sick but still felt good, this morphed into selective kisses.  Those kisses were heaven sent.  This past weekend we brought him upstairs to our bed to lounge.  It was so good.  Before he went to the vet yesterday, I came home for lunch and walked him around the yard, he ate and had a pedialyte pop.  He had another one before we went to the vet.  Mother Fucker.   Not Frank.  Just me expressin'.

I asked them to make a paw print of his foot.  I wish I would have done that before he died.  I wish I would have planned a really special day for him knowing now what happened!  Next week I will pick him up in a little box.  I don't think he will remain there long.  I feel so strongly about him!  I have to find strength to Un-box the Beans when that time comes.

I'm glad I fed him french fries on Friday.  He really enjoyed that!  I sent a note to my team yesterday that said this:

"
Team-

I had to say goodbye to Frank today.  He ruptured his eye over the weekend and we could have left it or had it removed.  I didn’t think it would be fair to put him through all of that(the cone of shame, more antibiotics etc).  So I made the decision to say see you later, little guy.  It breaks my heart and the kicker is, I truly do not believe he wanted to go!  It is the absolute worst thing to experience… to see the life leave such a sweet little vessel wrapped in fur.  

I rescued him and Ginger when True was two years old.  I am so glad I could give them a good home and a fun life.  Don’t believe what anyone says, the truth is that male pugs are the best dogs in the ENTIRE world.  They just are.  There will never be another Frank, AKA, Mr Beans, AKA Clams Casino, AKA The Beanus Flytrap. Oh Franklin!  Some day we shall meet again.

Thanks to all of you who have been so compassionate to me over the past months.  I’m devastated.  I appreciate your warmth and caring advice and consolation.

Xo
Heidi"

I logged into teams and saw that one of my dearest friends is sending flowers.  I wish I stayed out of Teams today!  I did log out.  My head hurts and my heart aches.  It is never ever, easy.  Waves of love and sadness wash over me.  I am without my heart.  But I know it will return.

The other dogs don't seem phased at all.  I think they may wonder where he is, but they are more concerned about breakfast.  Goddamn that fucking eyeball.  And in the words of those four legged bangers who carry on, Carpe Diem!


Friday, December 21, 2018

Auld Lang Syne

Oh my.  Time goes by at Mach I these days.  Fast forward to December 21, 2018.  Today is my husband's birthday.  I am also the mother to a 14 year old Snowflake.  True to his moniker, he loves snowboarding.

I think I have to re-commit to Ms. Mamma.  She's a hell of gal.  I miss her.  I am waxing melancholic, BIG TIME.  So shall we just get into it?

Time.  Time.  Time.  Time waits for no one.  I see my parents aging and I am going to hit a milestone year this February that I'd rather not say.  I am so emotional.  I have so many deep feelings.  I stayed home from work yesterday and sobbed for the better part of the morning watching a plethora of movies...  House of D, When Harry Met Sally, The Secret Window and the The Girl on the Train.

These were meant to be a diversion, but parts of them just made me feel worse.  Movies are not real life and I hate comparing mine to the beautiful happy endings of everything or thinking about the twisted individuals that walk among us.  I struggle every day.

The holidays are the worst.  Things have changed so much.    For every important holiday I have to make choices that I hate.  Spending time with my husband or my mom and dad.  Sometimes I am amazed at the things I google.  I never thought I'd be a "when your husband can't stand your family" type of goog-ler.

My parents are old and my only brother is kind of a narcissist who was busted with a fuck-ton of weed this past summer.  Formerly a nurse, he made the transition of going back to work for my parents in September 2017.  How convenient.  Since my mother has already lost one son, she takes any criticism of the other very hard and prefers not to hear it.  My husband cannot stand it.

I completely "get it."  At the same time, as a mother, I want to hold it all together.  I wouldn't want my brother's life for all the money in the world.  He can be a big dick.  He usually shows up in some state of intoxication.  I don't care.  These are my people and they are all I have and I want to spend time with ALL OF THEM, together.

Ruminating on this yesterday, reminded me of this song from some corner of my childhood memories.  Smooches.
-Ms. Mamma

LOVE IS THE ANSWER

Friday, May 08, 2015

Experiments with Boys

When last I left you, I was single and dear sweet Snowflake just survived the dreaded head lice attack.  I've always been the type to overreact  so I immediately grabbed everything in sight, stuffed it into garbage bags and threw it all in the trash forever.  Speaking of that little darling, he called me from school, just now.

We had an agreement.  Today was "Ride Your Bike to School" Day.  We agreed he would ride his bike to school, come home afterwards into the usual self imposed ipad isolation for a full hour and a half ie- no friends allowed over, let the dogs and chill until I get home. 

But of course he has to test me.

He wanted to go home, drop off his gear, let the dogs out and go lollygaggin' with his bros.  Fu-chi is in sixth grade and has funky bleached hair on top.  Timmy and U-Pang are inseparable.  The four of them hang out at  Werle Park.  That's pronounced Whirly, like swirly.  My worry is that all these fellas know mom is not at home.  That's scary.

Especially when you take into account that the other Friday night he performed an "experiment" in his room that involved a Q-Tip soaked in Axe, a lighter, a Mellow Yellow can and the aforementioned Axe aerosol as a blow torch. 

The idea was to make the paint on the can turn into "chrome."  It took the paint right off revealing the shiny aluminum body.  He did not burn the house down but it did leave the ENTIRE house smelling of ASS.  Because AXE smells like ASS to me.  It's that cheap, perfumey trying to cover up my stinky BO smell.  It gives me a headache.  Which reminds me of getting car sick from the smell of my mother's Nina Ricci L'Air Du Temps.  Yuck.

After that little experiment he brought it outside to "show" me what he was up to.  In total shock, I asked him what he was thinking.  Nothing apparently.  Yeah.

By this time it was probably 10:30 pm.  He followed up and redeemed himself by digging up and reclaiming his sandbox in preparation for a summer garden.  He and his friend Pascal worked hard by the light of his iPhone 5s balanced delicately on the wooden edge of box.  Meanwhile Hammer and I drank delicious craft beer by the light of the full moon.

Hammer.  Two years ago I married that man.  He's absolutely the coolest middle aged 12 year old I've ever met.  We're best friends.  My best friend is boy!  A boy.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Go Time

Sometimes the hardest thing to do after not writing for so long is to write.  I've been here since my last post, I start writing and then I think... this is pointless, what for?  I suppose it doesn't have to have a point and I think journaling is important so here goes....

It is one month before my wedding.  My last name is going to be Hammer.  Heidi Hammer.  It doesn't have to be, but I feel like it's an upgrade.  I actually thought I would never get married after seven years of being a sole, single parent to Snowflake.  I always thought if I did get married, I would keep my original last name.  Because that is who I have always been.  But I like the name Hammer.  I want to be an HH.

I feel like I should have been documenting this journey, but I got lazy.  Between work and motherhood and relationships, I let it slide.   Snowflake is going to be the Best Man at the wedding.  Unfortunately, he came home a few Mondays ago from school with a parent's worst nightmare, HEADLICE(GASP!) and we shaved his head.  It was his idea.  He went from adorable skater punk to looking like the fat kid in Stand By Me.  It's his chubby boob cheeks he still carries.

We carry on.

Everything we do here, our time is so short.  We hope we make the right decisions.  We fuck up.  As we get older we learn to accept people for who they are.

I chose Botox over extensions.

I *think* it was the way to go.




Saturday, May 04, 2013

Love This

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy.
© Max Ehrmann 1927

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Verbal Diarrheas

The seminal post from which all things begin.  Who am I?  What is my deal?  Where am I going?  What the fuck am I doing?  What I'm doing is being a Lifestyle Photographer.  That entailed a title change and a hefty raise.  Hefty by midwestern bumblefuck standards, that is.  But I'll take it.

It also entailed other peeps despising me.  Talking shit about me.  Nevermind, Ms. Mamma keeps trudging along, making tracks and paying no mind to the bitches that would otherwise bring her down with their outright negativity.  Fuck them.   I will do continue to work hard and continue to wish you well even though you have nothing positive to say about me.

Ms. Mamma is an engaged 43 year woman child that at times does not know how to communicate.  She is living with her beloved until that blissful day, June 15 and wonders, is this the right thing to do?  I never WANTED to live with anyone UNTIL I was married, but here I am.  I wound up preggo a few years ago using this same type of logic.  It seems to get me everywhere I always thought I'd be but never seemed to get to in the "right" way.  I suppose there never is a right way.

So goes...

Planing a wedding in middle age is completely lackluster.  No one seems to be excited about anything except for my Maid of Honor.  Am I not supposed to be gushing about love and everything that comes with it?  I hate to be Debbie Downer, maybe if I were in my 20's things would be different.  I don't know.   It just seems lame to be planning a wedding that is supposed to take place in a few months and there is no excitement.

Except for a new pair of Fluevogs.  Yay.

I had a huge ordeal with my brother and "the woman he LOVES."  They were supposed to stand up in the wedding.  They broke up for a second time since being engaged in June of last year.  She sent me a text telling me not to count on her because they couldn't be together because of his little boy.   Via text, I told her to send the dress back(frowny face).  Good riddance, I thought.

This is the same couple that proclaims to be a gift unto us all with their universal love.  What a crock of shit.  His 'fiance' is ultimately the most negative person I have ever encountered in my life.  She calls my nephew a "belligerent hateful creature."  He's seven.  Seriously?  I think she's projecting.  BIG TIME.

Fast forward a few days later and my mother calls to muscle me from Jamaica to let them back into the wedding.  Because they are (surprise!!!) back together!  Oh joy!  And "what is everyone going to think if your ONLY brother isn't in the wedding party?!"  OMFG, I don't know mom, prolly nothing?

I can't wait until my brother makes some ridiculous out of place speech about his "lady" at my wedding if they're still together.  I can already picture it.  Can anyone clue me in to what I'm supposed to be feeling right now?  I've been on my own and independent for so long, I'm not sure.  Maybe that is fucked up.  I don't know.  

I deactivated my Facebook and I have to say it is kind of liberating.  I didn't tell anyone.  BUT, the wonder couple noticed and said, "What were you thinking?  We thought you defriended us!"  OMFG, for reals?  And this is why I quit.  And I'm old enough to know I can quit anything I want at anytime.   And I can start over.  I can still be whatever I want to be.  Except for a real rockstar.  I never wanted to be that anyway.  Hugs and Kisses.






Thursday, May 10, 2012

And When You Least Expect It...

Ms Mamma writes a blog post.

It's been so long, that they've changed the interface of blogger and I'm out of whack with it. Seriously.

My day job is extremely low paying and yet I get to fly off to locations and photograph world class athletes. Last month I was gone twice and did some of the most amazing work I've ever done.

I'm fortunate to be in a position where my house will be mine in less than two years. What I'm getting at, is that if you truly love what you do, it doesn't matter how much you get paid. I took a slew of amazing photographs in Atlanta of the chap who was just given the Madden cover.

Today I saw what the cover is going to look like and I thought I would hurl. Apparently just because you HAVE a zillion great images, you SHOULD in fact, try and cram every one, reduced to microsize on the cover. Drats. Disgusto.

What I'm hoping for is that my work catches someone's eye and I am wooed away with an offer of real money so I can take care of Snowflake for reals. I keep on trucking. My goal is to create cool, high end work for a bargain basement price and build my portfolio until it is bursting at the seams with eye popping goodness.

And as much as I appreciate the opportunity I've been given, I would JUMP at the chance to move on to bigger, brighter and better things. In the words of that all knowing sage, "Suck it, dude!"

Monday, January 16, 2012

Argh!

sink

Where to begin, where to begin. Just begin. Random thoughts from a person who hasn't been writing. I'm sitting in my living room at my partner's desk, staring at the blinking cursor. I think about how much I love my illuminated keyboard and how I probably couldn't live without one. I have my parents adorable dog for the next week so it's a complete madhouse. Crazy Incorporated.

The other weekend I was watching House Hunters international and actually saw the Moroccan Maryam Episode. It was insightful and super interesting. It was inspiring. Carpe diem. I mean, fuck, you really do have to take risks or what is the point, my darlings? Heaven is a place on Earth bambinos, and there is no time like the present. Times a wastin'. And so on and so forth for every cliche as it were...

I've had some interesting assignments. I flew to LA and photographed an Olympic gold medalist. In two weeks I'm jetting off to Boise for another interesting project. That's right, IDAHO. Suck on that. And did you know Boise actually has an interesting boutique Mo-Hotel called The Modern where I'll be shacking up for a few days? Check it.

I am truly hoping I can build a portfolio and get a real job that actually pays me a living wage. I feel like a total schnitzel not being a self supporting entity. I feel like a big baby sometimes. Drats.

Other reality bytes from the tundra include fabulous neighbors who truly care for me and my son and help us with important things like replacing the scraper blade on the ballsy snowblower I love and consider to be my girl penis. I'd be crying without my Toro Tecumseh. They do so much to help me, truly blessed they are there for me.

My brother and I are still somewhat estranged. He and his personal trainer/nail artist/masseuse/mixed martial arts and pole dancing instructor GF are practicing tantra, never getting married and are not having children. I keep tabs on them by reading their FB status' in which they constantly POKE each other or make vague references to what I assume may or may not be their sex life.

SF is hardcore boy all the way. No easy going upbringing for this mama. He is smart, irreverent, hilarious and more than two handfulls. I can only imagine what he'll be like at 13. Eek! He goes to a very diverse school and has inquired if he might be able to get his ears pierced. When I told him how much it hurts and how if you don't take care of them they become infected, he gave it a rest. I was relieved since there are days that his teeth actually look fuzzy and troll like. You get the idea.

I'm hanging in there, taking it one day at a time, chillin' like a dill pickle in a jar of Milwaukee Midgets. You?

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Out of Control

I know I have my moodiness, my bitchiness and everything but I think I have learned to be happy for the most part with what I've been given and how the world works. My brother's death taught me to give people a chance, but also, to really trust your instincts. I've made huge mistakes in my life and I'm still not anywhere. I was taught from an early age that I had to be somebody or SOMETHING.

We have such huge standards. I'm saying fuck that. I want SF to be happy. I don't want to tell him what he HAS to do. But I do want him to have some type of higher education.

Right now I'm totally hung up on the idea that people think they have control of their lives. I think we create structures to give us the illusion of control, but the thread can break at any time. Wham! I get hit by a bus or whatever. Tragedy strikes often and without reason. We are lucky if our families live unscathed by the death of anyone under a certain age.

I'm having a difficult time feeling dealing with the fact that I feel vulnerable. I am such a loner and so independent and I don't feel like I have anyone to talk to about stuff. My mother constantly goes on and on about my brother and his GF are so in love and BLAH BLAH BLAH. Thats great. I'm happy for him, but we're estranged. I barely know him. Sick, right.

Sometimes I just feel like I want to move to the other side of the country and leave this fucking place. I never thought in a million years I'd end up here. But there are so many things I'm thankful for. I have awesome neighbors that help me with SF. They do more to help me than my own family. You'd think I'd have something figured out by this time, but I don't.

Nothing. Zip. Nada.

I wasted excellent years of my life working for my family when I should have pursued my dreams. But I didn't know what my dreams were and I still don't. The only thing I'm sure of is that I want to enjoy life with SF. Because although I might wish it was about me, at this point it is all about him.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Stufflings

So much stuff has happened since last I wrote on my poor neglected blog. I met an amazing person. He's super cool, super nice and just sweet. We've been dating for a little over a month and I sense there are some challenges ahead of us. And maybe we operate in weird ways. I really have nothing to compare it against since I haven't dated in a lifetime and it has been the most normal relationship I've experienced. I don't know.

Being a single sole parent, I'm not ready to just jump in and introduce SF to him and vice versa. I honestly don't know what to do about it. I have said that I won't introduce anyone to him unless it is serious because if it's not, what is the point? This course of actions proves to be not so much fun, the road less traveled. We end up seeing eachother once a weekend. Or, if I'm fortunate, my parents keep him overnight. But still... you know how it is when you like someone and you can't just see them when you want? It sucks.

And that's another thing. My mother. I sometimes wonder if she truly ever wants me to be happy. She gives me the silent treatment because I haven't had marathon conversations with her lately. Nor did I tell her or anyone for that matter about this person I dig. I hate passive aggressiveness. Contrast this with her overwhelming support of my brother's relationship, new since Father's Day. I mean Christ, he can do no wrong. Can I vent? She stays overnight. His kid is there. Whatev. He did something really incredibly stupid and she hid it from me. What was it?

Driving completely shitfaced with his kid in the car to meet her parents for the first time. WTF. His GF ended up telling me. Sometimes I just want to run away screaming from everyone and everything. There is nothing I can do to convince anyone of the bullshit beauty that is life. Can I handle a relationship? IDK. This person is facing some difficulty and it seems like I can't cheer them up. It seems sad, like a bummer and that combined with the fact that we have limited contact just seems hard and impossible. I want to positive, but it seems like everything is always such a fvcking battle all the time. I am only one person and I realize that although I think I can do all of this alone, I can't.

Wednesday, August 03, 2011

Just Things...

This past weekend I had a few moments where I realized I really missed a certain part of myself. And I wonder how I can get that back... I can't force it. It just has to happen. Whatever. I just think of all the people swarming around and those who go from person to person like a bee taking nectar. I suppose that is one way to be. But it's not for me. I have to know you a bit before you can know me. Stupid, stupid stufflings...

Maybe I'm jaded. I want to think there is such a thing as love at first sight, but I think that's crap. I don't think you can know someone for a month and truly love them. There are too many things you don't know. And all of those things that seem so cute and adorable now are just things you will grow to despise eventually. Yes, I can be happy for you. But that doesn't mean I don't think it'a a huge steaming crock of shit.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Solar

solar

Clean Livin'

Sometimes I think I really should go in and get that prescription for the bucket of valium and then I surprise myself by doing something pretty much unplanned or expected. Such is the case with last Monday. When I woke up feeling less than stellar I thought, myabe this would be a good day to fast. So I did. It seems an eternity since my last fast which lasted for 14 days. I had tried since then and failed to make it over one day. Last Monday just felt right. So here I am, almost one week later and on to the next.

It helps to have a juicer that acts like a mini wood chipper. I feel good.

And in my Polish weirdness, I do not deny myself my favorite stout if I feel like having it. It's nice catching a buzz off of one little ol' beer. I've also been riding my bike to work everyday. I feel like a sparkling green goddess. I love the refocused perspective that fasting puts on me. Thursday the Creative Director bought the studio pizza and I inhaled deeply.... not easy for a Pizza Slut. The only thing I could think about during this pizza orgy was roasted brussels sprouts with sea salt and cracked black pepper...

I look good. I feel good. And damn it, people like me!

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Thankful

Sometimes it's so hard to be thankful. But I want to say that I am. I'm thankful that I am not an alcoholic or an addict. I'm thankful that I had the opportunity to travel just a little bit and see a few places in the world. I'm thankful for the education my parents provided for me. I am thankful for the little roof I have over my head. I'm thankful for the hammock I found on Craigslist. I am thankful for snoring dogs who make me laugh. And blow up monsters and books about sunken luxury liners. I'm thankful for the sassy little bird who calls me mommy. And his filthy summer feet and scabby knees and the precious tears that roll down still chubby cheeks. I am thankful for all of the memories I have of you. I am thankful for the here and now. Tomorrow? Maybe not so much.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Poor Kitty

I was sitting here tonight feeling so bad. Just sad. SF had a bad week in school and lied about it to me. People can say what they want, but I think he is a boy who needs a father figure so desperately. He needs to do guy things and wrassel. I try to entertain him. Sometimes I'm just distracted. I do blame myself. As I'm sitting here tapping this out I notice a few cars slowing down as they drive past my house. I look out the window and see a pile of fluff. Grab the binoculars to see. The neighbor boy is out on the median with his cellphone for light. I walk out. It's a cat. Poor thing didn't stand a chance on this street. Mean streets.