Womp Womp Womp…….

Saturday, 11:21 P.M. Current Mood: Oh hell no

How does one go from ‘happy’ to ‘ain’t this some shit’ in a matter of seconds? Well what had happened was……..

I think too much. That’s what the hell happened. If I could just sit here without thinking so much, then maybe, just maybe this would have never happened. It was one simple thought Hmm, when’s the last time you took your contacts out?” that took my really great Saturday night and turned it into a really crappy (no pun intended) Saturday night.

I never take my contacts out until I remember that I haven’t taken them out in a while. Well that one stupid thought reminded me that I haven’t taken them out in a while, so I decided let’s do it.

I make my way over to the bathroom looking like a responsible adult, because I just promised my boyfriend that starting tonight I will take them out every night like I should. Yeah right, I know better than that. But he’s smiling, so let’s just play along.

Once in the bathroom I find my contact case and my contact solution and get to work. A few minutes later, both of my contacts are successfully in the case with the correct letter indicating left and right tightly screwed on. Gosh my eyes feel so good, naked almost.

I am now blind. I smile at myself in the mirror. All I see is fuzz. I reach over to grab my glasses and OH NOOOOOO. My hand sweeps side to side in a panicked motion trying to connect with anything that feels like an eye glass case. This can’t be happening. How stupid are you to not have your glasses out before you take your contracts out. Good thinking, Jaclyn….NOT! I soon remember that I rearranged the bathroom cabinets two days ago and I have no idea what new home I gave my eye glass case. “CALEB……CALEB” Where the hell is he? “CAAAAALEEEEEB!” silence……..shit, I’m on my own. So back to swiping I go, grabbing, touching, getting within 1 inch of every item in my bathroom, trying to find this stupid eye glass case. Check the cabinet above the toilet again. That’s where it used to be and maybe you never moved it. So back to the cabinet above the toilet I went, blindly feeling for that case when I heard it….that distinct sound of my retainer being shook inside of its case. Then I hear it hit the top of the toilet and then I hear a splash. Oh hell no!

I am 100% certain that the retainer case just fell in the toilet. So I look down and even with my fuzzy eye sight I know I would at least be able to see that bright green case in the toilet, but it is not there. Shut up. Seriously where the hell… Then I see it on the floor. But if it’s on the floor and I heard a splash…..OH NO. With shaking hands I pick it up and I instantly knew that when that case hit the top of the toilet it opened up and the actual retainer went in the toilet since I was now staring at an empty case. Shit. Shit shit shit! 

Now I need to decide if I will blindly stick my hand in the toilet to retrieve the retainer or continue to blindly look for my glasses. I am starting to hyperventilate at this point and decide that I would rather be blind that have my retainer spend another second surrounded by toilet water, so I stand up to go get some gloves on, when staring me dead in the face is my stupid ass eye glass case. Son of a bitch. Really? You were there all this time and just NOW decide to pop up.

My glasses are now on my face and my retainer is now soaking in the hottest water known to man, although I have no intention of putting it back into my mouth. Just felt like that’s what needs to be done.

As I sit here and type this I don’t know what embarrasses me more; the fact that I told y’all my damn retainer fell in the toilet or the fact that I even admitted I wear a retainer. Either way you’re welcome for letting me become that person that when your night isn’t going as planned there is always someone out there who is having it worse. Yep, I’m having it worse. Me and my new shit mouth retainer 😦         



Parenting 101: Toilet Paper Usage

When you were a kid you might have heard your parents say “When you grow up you will understand”, or,  “When you have kids of your own you will understand.” You always think “Yeah right, what do you know” never fully understanding until you have actually grown up and/or become parents. It takes one incident to happen where you look back and think “Damn, they were right.” I had one such moment this morning that involved a parenting tip y’all might consider.

I woke up 45 minutes late as per usual and began running around the house like a disoriented half-blind, half-naked, why am I pouring cereal into the coffee filter, yelling at TJ to wake up, type of crazy person. Fifteen minutes later, after getting myself feeling somewhat human I hustle to the bathroom, not realizing it’s already occupied, and open up the door to find TJ sitting on the toilet with toilet paper wrapped around his arm, from his fingertips to his elbow. Normally, when I walk into an unlocked bathroom that’s already being occupied I say “Sorry” and shuffle backwards out the door. But one does not simply walk into a bathroom and witness someone with a toilet paper cast on their arm and not inquire about it right that second.

Me – “Son, why in the world do you have toilet paper all on your arm like that?”

TJ – “Mother, why in the world are we talking about this now. I’m doing the number 2. Get out.”

Me – “I will get out, but first I need to know why you are wasting my toilet paper and why is your entire arm covered?

TJ – “I’m not wasting it. I’m using toilet paper to wipe my butt. Duh! That’s what it’s for and I cover my arm so the poop can’t touch me.”

Me – “But how do you even bend your elbow?”

TJ – “As long as it can reach my butt then who cares if it can bend. Now GET OUT! Seriously. Geez, bruh.”

So, I walk out feeling relieved in the fact that I have finally figured out the mystery of who the culprit is that has been using all of my toilet paper. When you have two males living in a house they tend to point the finger at each other or simply just act as if they have no clue what you are talking about when you ask them who is wasting the toilet paper. Especially when you can’t actually find out for yourself without invading their bathroom privacy. So this morning you can imagine my joy as I accidentally caught him red-handed with that arm full of toilet paper like he was fixin’ to go wipe somebody else’s ass instead of his own. I sat on the sofa, waiting for him to come out the bathroom so I could have a talk with him, and that’s exactly what I did, telling him about the struggle I went through with toilet paper as a kid.

When my brother, sister, and  I were kids my parents would leave us home alone during the summer while they went to work. We were so bad, breaking pictures off the wall because we would play baseball in the house, sometimes basketball, just any outdoor activities that seemed more fun to play indoors. My Dad would never really get mad at all the damage we would do to the house (at least I don’t remember him fussing about that too much), but one thing he would always get mad at is the amount of toilet paper we would use during the day while he and my Mom were at work. Of course all three of us would blame each other so finally my Dad got tired of that and decided to teach us the ole ‘You don’t know how good you got it till it’s gone’ lesson. He figured the only way for us to appreciate toilet paper (and save him money) was to control how much we were using. So every morning he would sit there and count out 3 squares and tear, count out 3 more squares and tear, and continue this until he has 15-3 square piles of toilet paper. Each of us was allowed 5 piles which was 15 total squares each and this had to last us the entire day. Shit would get real fast when you have used up 4 of your 5 piles and you realize you have to do the number 2. We would be in that house hustlin’ for squares. I would beg my sister to pay her money or offer to do the dishes on her chore day just to get one of her squares. Normal kids at that time were buying toys and clothes with their allowance money, but not us. We were using our allowance to buy toilet paper to stash in our room before the summers. To this day, I still have no clue where my dad hid the toilet paper. I like to think he took it with him to work, because my sister was a mini MacGyver and could break into any lock and knew every code to every safe my dad had and we could never find that toilet paper. Either way it was crazy, but in that brief encounter in the bathroom this morning, 15 years later, I finally understood why my dad did what he did and used that opportunity to threaten my son with the same such consequence. He just sat there wide eye, shaking his head in disbelief and just said “Okay” when I told him to try and use less toilet paper or I will use the 3 square method.

I got up from the sofa and went about getting ready for work when I see TJ go back to the bathroom. So I snuck up to where he couldn’t see me and peeked in the bathroom and I see him pick up the toilet paper roll. He lays it down, unrolls it a bit, counts out 3 squares and tears it off. I then see him fold the squares and pretend as if he’s wiping his butt. He kept folding them (at this point he’s pretty much an origami expert) as if practicing in case he was left with only 3 squares. He then stops once the square is the size of a quarter, shakes his head, throws the toilet paper away and walks out of the bathroom. He walks right up to me, looks me in the eye with this terrified look on his face and says “Momma, I promise to not use so much toilet paper anymore. I’m sorry.”

Tough love and terrifying childhood stories always wins in the end. I think I owe my dad an I’m sorry as well. I think I also owe him a thank you, but we still have to wait and see if TJ will follow through. I would hate to see him wake up one morning and go into the bathroom to find only 3 squares in there. That will be a sad day for everyone.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that my dad would also remove all paper towels and napkins from the house as well. When TJ heard this new bit of information he simply replied “Wow, the struggle was real back in the day.” Lol!

Who is Jac?

This is my first blog post ever! Yay *jazz hands*

So, what do y’all want to know about me? I’m sorry what was that, I can’t hear you? No really, I probably couldn’t hear you. If you ever hear me say that, then do us both a favor and carry your ass to the left of me. Unfortunately, my right ear is out of order. I mean it works, but not like a real ear should work. At this point it’s pretty much just there for decoration. This is just one of the many “side effects” of being born with cleft lip and cleft palate. Yep, I was a birth defect baby and also the first child, so you can just imagine my parents fear of not only being first time parents, but also having to care for a child with a “disability” as they (doctors) call it. Seeing as I’m still here 30 years later I would say my parents did a pretty good job.

Right now I want you to breathe in through your nose. What do you smell? Is it food? Perfume? Flowers? A fart? Sweaty feet? Whatever it is, feel lucky. Unfortunately I have another body part that is just there for decoration; good ole nose don’t work either. Certain things will make me sneeze, but I can’t actually smell anything. That’s a good thing and a bad thing. Good, because I can’t smell stinky stuff and bad, because I can’t smell gas and a gas leak would be….yeah you get it. I do wish I could smell flowers and food though, but being able to see them is cool enough. My ever so loving brother, LOVES that fact that I can’t smell and takes every opportunity to stand near me, fart, and then walk away chuckling to himself the whole time because he knows not only can I not smell the fart, but I also didn’t hear it either. And so here I am standing in a wall of fart when someone goes “Eww, Jac you farted?” and I’m looking around all confused like “did a fluff just really come out my ass without me knowing?” and then I hear Ray laugh and it all makes sense. So yeah, be thankful your nose works.

Aside from the obvious scar on my lip I also have a big ass scar on my belly where I had to have emergency surgery as a baby due to a hole in my diaphragm. I almost died because it was misdiagnosed as a common cold, but thankfully my mother was persistent and they found the problem and had me flown to a children’s hospital and fixed me right up. I also have some tube scars from having a collapsed lung, but those are pretty small and not as cool as the others.

So, why tell y’all about all of this? Because it pretty much affects me every day. Well the smelling and hearing do. Speaking in a louder tone would save me a bunch of “huhs” and save you from being annoyed from having to repeat yourself. Asking me to smell something is not a good idea because instead of reminding you I can’t smell I may just say “Oh yeah that smells good” when in fact it may not. Lol! The scars, especially my lip is obviously noticeable and people never ask, but I can tell they are wondering what happened. Sometimes when they stare I think “Oh my gosh do I have a pimple” forgetting the fact that I have a scar, but if they just asked I have no problem telling them.

Being born “F’d up” as I call it has been a positive thing. It has given me thick skin and the ability to not take things personal. I credit that to life experiences and my momma and her set it straight talk. I remember the first and only time I came home crying, because a kid at elementary school was making fun of my lip. I told my mom and she laid out the law. I was not to cry about my lip. She told me “So what if your lip is a little funny looking. That’s not your fault. You can’t help that. Nothing else is wrong with you, so don’t let that kid make you feel like ANYTHING is wrong with you. People can be assholes and that goes for kids too. They say stuff because they don’t know any better and if you show them that their comments hurt then they will keep doing it. Just ignore their ass and move on. We treat you normal so you need to act normal. Suck that shit up. Now move out of my way, my food is burning.” She then turns around and says “see that’s normal because I tell your brother and sister to get out of my way all the time and they don’t even have a crazy lip.”

After that day I never once cried about my lip and I was teased a lot. Even if people think I didn’t know they said stuff, I knew. But I would just shrug my shoulders and think to myself “It’s not my fault and you’re an asshole” then I would go about my day. I never thought I was ugly or was ashamed of my scar; I was just annoyed that kids seemed to focus on that sometimes instead of getting to know me. But years of repeating “It’s not my fault you asshole” in my head and my friends and family treating me normal and allowing me to joke about it has lead me to my ‘Take my lick’ mentality. If there are things in my life that happen out of my control I simply take my lick and move on. That’s all I can do. I realize life is short and I’ll be darn if I spend my whole life sad about something I had no control over so I take my lick. I teach this to TJ every day because I don’t want him to live a miserable life feeling sad or upset over things he has no control over. It also allows him to treat everyone as if they’re normal, because he knows Momma looks a little off, but she’s smart and funny and normal just like other people so if he sees someone who looks different he won’t judge them by their physical appearance. He came home from school one day and told me that he made me look like a badass for a little while. I was confused so he explained. He said “one of my friends asked why you had a scar, so I told him you wrestled an alligator after it tried to bite you, but you won and it left a little scar. He thought you were pretty badass but I didn’t want you to think I was ashamed of you so I told him the truth. He was cool about it.” I was like “Man, I wish I would have thought of that growing up because I would have fought every ferocious animal known to man.” Lol! Now I just use that on little kids since they have no idea what birth defect means and so Jac has like fought big bears and stuff, so thanks for that one TJ. Haha!

So yeah, this is me. I occasionally make fun of my non-working parts, my funny looking lip and other stuff about myself and you’ll probably see that in upcoming blogs, but now you know where that all comes from. I’m super open minded, don’t get offended easily, and I love life and love people who love me! *shrugs shoulders and smiles* THAT’S ME!!!

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