Author Archives: Nunyo Biness

About Nunyo Biness

Just enjoying the craziness of 2 kids, and my extended family... Living life as it comes along, though it never has time to be boring!

I’m Back, You Missed Me.


Welp, here we are…

I now have 3 wonderful kids, they are my every day. I just bought my first house, my hubby is due to start school in a matter of months for a career he’s decided he loves… things are starting to look up for the moment:) I need to figure out what else to put here, will report back when my thoughts aren’t primarily with the migraine.


If My Husband Ever…


Did what a certain member of my family did on Christmas Day, he probably wouldn’t have survived the day.

A member of my family, who shall remain anonymous, bought his spouse a book for Christmas. “Speaking Italian for Dummies.” I don’t know about you, and maybe it’s post baby hormones, but if my husband called me a dummy on Christmas Day, either he’d be maimed or I’d be bawling.

But wait, there’s more… because the story takes a sort of cute turn here:

He bought it for her so she could get some remedial help with her italian speaking, because he actually bought her a vacation to Italy for Christmas. It’s always been her ‘dreeeeeeeam to see the wooooorld and everything it has to offer… because that would be super fun, wouldn’t it baby?” (She calls him baby. In front of everyone. It’s gross.) This is the same girl that had zero zip zilch interest in getting married, until one day, he graduated post secondary and was making $100 an hour. Suddenly, the white dress (2 kids later… and it was PURE white… interestingly enough…) the guests, the cake, everything. Amazing how her mindset changed. Now, I’m not saying she’s a gold digger…

I suppose all that makes me come off as a smidge bitter. I don’t mean it to. Oh sure, Italy would be nice, but I have other places I want to see first. I want to spend a week in Disneyworld or Land. I want to go to Paris and see the Catacombs. I want to see Scotland, because that’s where my heritage lies. I want to go to New Orleans, NOT in the middle of a hurricane. (Though, to be fair I’ll probably see fit to find myself in the bottom of a few!) Here’s the thing: I don’t want to finance things. The only thing we make payments on to own is our vehicle, the rest of our stuff we own outright and purchased with cash. I own my couches, my fridge, my camera, my tv’s, my table, my bed and bedroom set… We rent our house, but we’re not exactly prepared to have a mortgage yet. This is all more than they can say. Yes, money is nice, but money goes away, circumstances change, and one day you’re living in a $2000 refrigerator box with a $600 camera and nothing to show for your life but a shitload of debt.

I’m trying to get out of debt. I’m trying to solve problems created by other people so that one day,  I can do as my grandmother did, walk into a travel agency with a duffel bag of money (well, she wrote a check, but she’d saved all her tips to fill a duffel bag…) and say “First class cruise to (X) ” She’d done this several times, and it was her own very hard earned money that did it for her. She took her husband on first class cruises all over the world because she wanted to go, she earned the money to do it, and she wanted him there. Were they poor or suffering for money in any way?? Oooooh no. Not even close. My grandfather was a computer engineer when computers first hit the mainstream workforce in the ’60’s. The first computer I ever remember playing on was a solid one piece lump, I’m pretty sure you could only type letters on it. He could disassemble entire motherboards and reassemble them without a thought. (And yet… Ikea furniture evades me.) They owned 2 houses, built a mini mcmansion from the ground up with their bare hands because they could, and paid cash for everything they ever owned, every vehicle they ever purchased, every renovation that my grandmother ever saw fit to have done to the house and surprised Grandpa with.

My husband always tells me that he sees nothing of my mother in me, and a whole lot of my grandmother in me. I have to admit that this is more true than most realize. That duffel bag thing?? I do that. Not with a duffel bag, mind you, but I do hoard money in the house to be used later. This year it paid for bills when my husband was unemployed, but it was there when I needed it, and I felt secure knowing that. Also, I change the house. If my husband leaves for more than a day or two, he can bet his sweet heiney I’m going to do something to the house that he doesn’t expect. (Don’t feel bad for him, his mom does the same thing and always has.)

My grandmother always tells me that in my husband, she sees a lot of my grandfather, that he thinks the world of me and would give me the moon if I asked for it. I don’t want the moon. I don’t even want Italy.

I’m perfectly content with the loving card and love letter I got for Christmas from my husband, which is easily my favorite gift he’s ever given me.

 


Silence Speaks Volumes…


I’m feeling alone lately. So alone, in fact, that the only reminder that I’m really not alone is fetal kicks from the inside, reminding me that I have to eat something, the demands of my almost 4 year old who has no idea where his truck/movie/bike is, and my two year old, wandering around the house saying “Rora rora adora” which is code for Dora, a certain cartoon character that I occasionally let her watch so that I can have 5 minutes to take care of a mundane chore around the house. I don’t condone letting my kids watch tv all day… but if it allows me to get the dishes done in peace, I’ll let it happen.

I talk to my husband on the phone for half an hour a day. Half an hour. That’s it. He might as well be in prison, and not 6 hours away at work, because that’s all I get of him, basically a rushed phone conversation that consists of “The-insurance-went-down-the-baby-is-fine-according-to-the-Dr.-I-paid-the-rent-utilities-cell-phone-etc-your-mother-is-fine-MY-mother-is-fine-we-had-x-for-dinner-I-need-a-vacation.” Can you imagine, in a marriage, only getting that every day?? It sucks. He’s my best friend and I get next to nothing. When he is home, he’s home for 4-5 days, and then he’s gone again.

I might get to go visit him in the next 3 or 4 weeks, (He won’t be home for almost another 2 months…) but that’s to pack up the stuff at his work apartment that he doesn’t need and bring it back to our house… Packing? Didn’t I JUST pack a house? Oh, yeah… that’s right, I just packed the houses we just moved out of and into respectively… I don’t look forward to packing another one, but it has to be done, and if the Dr. allows me to continue driving, I’ll be the one to do it because I’m the one that takes care of their apartment. They can’t, as they work 12 hour days, so once a month I go out there and clean up. pay the bills, buy the groceries etc… I don’t mind, but at 25 weeks pregnant, I’m getting paranoid about the drive.

Unpacking this house has become such a chore, because I know it’s only temporary. We signed a 1 year lease. That’s all we’re guaranteed, and in the last 4 years, that’s the longest I’ve been allowed to stay in a house. 1 Year. Do you understand how hard it is to unpack, knowing that I’ll be leaving in a year? It has caused panic attacks and I’m not sleeping, THAT’S how hard it is. It has caused me to get an average of 3 hours of sleep a night for the last week, caused me to “wake up” from a semi coma having screaming panic attacks. Since we brought her home from the hospital, my daughter can now claim having lived at 4 different addresses. 4. She’ll be 2 in November.

Speaking of bringing home a baby from the hospital… I’m pregnant, not dead, but my friends seem to forget this. Forgive me for sounding selfish, but I want to have my friends hang out with me. I want to be invited to go out for dinner, and have coffee, or be invited for “girl’s night out” and maybe even go for a couple hours. It hurts to see all my friends going out, for dinner, for girl’s nights, just to hang out at the park, and not being invited… Worse yet, seeing that it happened and I *could* have done it because the kids are at Grandma’s for a night to give me a break, and they knew that and still didn’t extend the invitation. I’m not even going to hold my breath for a baby shower, because I KNOW it won’t happen. My friends can’t even invite me to hang out with them one on one, I’d have to be high on something illegal to believe they’ll gather in a room to celebrate this baby.  I’ve settled on just buying the necessities from the second hand baby store, and there is nothing wrong with that… but honestly? It would be nice to have everyone gather in a room and eat cake and drink tea and hang out with me and enjoy the company that only comes from a group of people gathering together in mutual celebration of something. I don’t even care about the gifts, I just want my friends back… and I want to feel like they care that I’m pregnant, and *not* hear “So, when ya due to calve THIS one??” like it’s such a crime to have a family… I want people to be happy for me, not laughing behind my back!!

I recently had someone correct something I “always” do when I’m typing, and the mood I was in before has this correction still bothering me… Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t really care, I am usually pretty good with spelling and grammar issues, at least in my own opinion, but now… I don’t know. I’m worried that everything I do is wrong and I’m being judged for it. I was already having a bad few days, and that really made me feel like an idiot. A lonely, pathetic, friendless idiot.

 

I thought this would make me feel better…


Cowtown Craziness…


I live in a city that every year is turned upside down, run through a cattle chute, and shits out a bunch of western Jersey Shore Wannabes and Cappucino Cowboys…GIANT carnival, rodeos, controversial chuckwagons, (Google Bob Barker Calgary Stampede,) Deep fried everything… concerts of every variety.  This year was the 1oo year anniversary, and I was left less than impressed. In less than an hour I was very nearly in a fight with 2 different people that were of the wannabe-I’m-wearing-a-cowboy-hat-so-I’m-SO-western-even-though-I-think-an-angus-is-a-hamburger-at-McD variety…

The first was in traffic on one of the main roads through my city. I was driving, it was hail and raining, and I had to hit my brakes really suddenly to avoid hydroplaning/sliding into the car ahead of me. Douchenugget Deluxe (I consider you a douche if you have fake balls on your truck. A tiny truck no less…) pulls up beside me, and his passenger says, “Don’t stop at a merge lane, for C’s sake!!” To which I replied with ” You are a PASSENGER in an out of province vehicle! Don’t tell me how to drive in my own fucking city you fucking hippie! Go home if you don’t like how we drive here!” They drove off… I have a way with people, Can you tell??

The next incident was when I was actually on the grounds, for the all of 3o minutes I was there. Two kids, maaaaybe 20 years old tops, were walking past me, and after they passed, I heard the taller one say, “Nah man, she needs about 8 more digits before I’d fuck her.” I turned around, and, still in a mood from my previous encounter, said “*Ahem.* Excuse me, Tweedle Jack Ass and his brother Off… While I’m flattered that you think it necessary to talk about me behind my back, you are NOT the kind of people I would fuck, ever. Even more flattering is that you are talking about a married, pregnant woman whose husband (I look down, then up at their faces again) has a bigger dick than either of you even ARE.” And I walked away. I didn’t stick around to see their faces or what they had to say… but the Asian lady collecting bottles made the encounter that much better, because she walked past me and in their direction, and as she did she kept chuckling ‘Haha, small penis, small penis.”

I think I’m just stressed out at people in general, but I can’t talk about it here because it’s open to the wide world web… I think I was taking it out on losers in cowboy hats and aviators.


Busty Girl Problems: Targets


The hand goes to the cleavage automatically as soon as you see someone’s hand go up to throw something.


Mother’s Day isn’t ALWAYS Happy Occasion


I am pregnant with my third child, however, come December I will be a mother to 4.

At the end of the month, my stepdaughter will turn 3. We found out she even existed when she wasn’t even 11 months old. We subsequently got sued for child support… We went through the process to determine paternity to find out if he was in fact the father… He is, and through it all, I’ve never minded one bit. I grew up in a big family. He tried to give me an out, to say if it was too much that I could walk away, but I couldn’t, I didn’t. I told him that I wouldn’t leave him because he had a kid, because he loved me even though I had a child when we started dating. (He’s also always said that if we ever broke up/got divorced, my son is his lol. He loves him.)

***Back story***

He’d had a one night stand that resulted in her getting pregnant. Not to sound bitter, but all signs point to her having gotten pregnant on purpose. He showed me the emails she’d sent him, and they had never dated, they’d only ever seen each other in person twice. The first time he was with her was the ONLY time he was with her, and you can see clearly in the emails that she was trying to keep him around as more than just a cheap fuck. (Are we censored here??) She was all “crazy stalker bitch” in the emails… so much so that I laughed hysterically at the amount she emailed him compared to how often he replied.

/End

Anyhow, we quickly learned after being presented with the court order that men have NO rights when it comes to child support, and women, no matter how horrible, how destitute, how iq-below-ability-to-breathe they are, have all the rights. Otherwise, how can you explain the fact that she maintains custody, while living in her brothers apartment, living OFF welfare because she’s too stupid/lazy to work and once got fired from a video rental store because she was literally too dense to operate a cash register… While we, in our house, with our steady income, 2 siblings, dog and caring stay at home mother can’t even get visitation?

We eat healthy food, we are physically active, neither of us has a mental disorder or an addiction problem or a criminal record… the worst infraction we have is ONE speeding ticket between the two of us, acquired over 4 years ago and leaving his driving record in a couple months.

WE HAVEN’T EVEN MET THE CHILD.

Oh, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.

I sent her an email from an alternate account, that clearly said it was coming from us as a couple. We made a deal when all of this happened that anything that happened in regards to her and the child was strictly a “we” situation. We did everything together, we knew all the information that was exchanged, we were and are a team.

She sent back this. (Warning… not for the strong of grammar skills…)

“Y know,,, ? y wuldnt u do this b4,,,,,!!!” (Why now, why wouldn’t you do this before?)

She did NOT send that from a mobile, she sent it straight from a computer. Once I’d recovered enough from idiocy shock to reply, I sent back something to the effect of “We think that it’s about time that the children got to know each other, we’d hate for them to grow up knowing they have a sister that they’ll never know, and we’d like to know her ourselves, and have her in our lives as well.”

The next email I got was most definitely NOT her, it was too well written, and grammar wise was 1000 times better than her previous work.. (Keep in mind, I’d spied on her Facebook page. My former-newspaper-journalist skills come in handy from time to time still… So I knew she wrote in text speak as a rule.)

The email we recieved back was more or less an  “I agree, I want (my husband) to meet (our other daughter) and we want to spend time with him.” It further went on to explicitly say that I, nor his and my other children, were not welcome to be around her and “their” daughter.

Ooooh… “HELL NO THE FUCK YOU DI’IN’T!!” is what I said.

To the computer. Loudly.

Jon came over to see what was going on, read the exchange a second time, and was like, “No. No… You belong there, and there’s no way either of us is being in her presence, not a fucking chance. I don’t trust her.”

Have I yet mentioned how much I LOVE my husband?? He meant every word.

We still haven’t met the child. We haven’t had contact with the mother in a few months, aside from sending her a portion of our money every month.

Oh! Did I mention that we WERE saving for a house, but that fund, plus a line of credit we had to take out, plus tens of thousands of our household money over the last couple years has gone into court battles and support?? Forgive me if I’m a little bitter about THAT, because you know, it’s totally superficial to want a paid for roof over my children’s heads and all…

In closing, I think I’m angry at Mother’s Day, because I don’t know one of my children. Yes, I consider her “my” child, evne though she was born of someone else’s union… It doesn’t feel… right to celebrate a day that’s so… incomplete for me.


Oooh… Boy or Girl, Here We Go Again.


First off, this is a pretty big secret for the next 12 hours, as my mother in law has yet to be told…

But I am expecting #3.

And I’m happy about it, but all the same, it was a HUGE shock. I’m one of those crazy “set an alarm so I don’t miss a pill, make him wear protectection if I’m late even taking the pill” crazies… so, yeah.

I have discovered morning sickness this time around… shoot me. I’ve got food aversions coming out the ying yang, and the only things I want to eat are veggies and multigrain foods. Hippy food, as my husband calls it. Meat grosses me out, I had a craving (Cravings! Already!) for sausages last night, that was quickly changed when I went to the meat counter, looked at them and just about threw up. So much for that… Now even writing this has my stomach protesting food. Yuck.

We’ve already begun the naming war (He hates Drew for a girl’s name, I’m not 100% sold on “Zoie” being spelled like that, because it doesn’t match our kids’ names at all…) That being said, the war on names hasn’t even started…

We got married AFTER having the other 2, and even though we knew we were getting married one day, we gave them my maiden name. The other day we went for a drive, and I asked what the baby’s last name would be, (given that the other two have my name.) He looked at me and said “Well, (maiden name), of course! Why have them all have different names?? That makes no sense… I’m not going to force my last name on them! They can change their names to mine later if they want.” Awesome. I married an awesome guy, and I appreciate that he’s willing to do that for us, and for our kids…  I don’t think his mother will appreciate this though… See, my husband is the only son of an only son, and therefore the last of his line… I’m sure his mother has thought of this. Not only that, but when we told her that I was pregnant the last time, she didn’t hesitate to say “Well, I’m not used to the idea of people having babies before they are married like this, It isn’t right. Are you sure you don’t just want to have a quicky wedding before the baby so we can call it a __________??” (Good old Catholics, huh? Her, as well as my stepdad, were raised severe Catholic, so sometimes… they have wisdom I’d rather not hear…) So, to hear that her son is going to have a baby and he and his WIFE are going to choose the wife’s maiden name for the child… well, this is going to be fun.We’ll hopefully be telling her about the baby later today. Hubby says we should wait until the baby is born before we drop the name bomb… but I think it could be fun to do it earlier rather than later. I have to admit that occasionally I enjoy poking the proverbial religious bear like that:)

 

 


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