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Happy Birthday to you, you live in a zoo

Happy Birthday to you

You live in a zoo

You look like a monkey

and you smell like one too.

The kids were practicing singing to me.  B’s mom asked then “Are you really going to sing that to your mom for her birthday?”

I answered, uh, have you seen the four I live with?  I might as well be in a zoo.

‘nough said

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41 years

Tomorrow I will turn 41. Just another day, just another birthday. Last year was supposed to be ‘The Big One’. It wasn’t much. I celebrated the same way I always have, starting the 4th early.

20 years ago, if you had asked me where I would be at 41, I’m sure I wouldn’t have said a divorced mom trying to make ends meet without any child support. 20 years ago I thought I’d met the man I would marry and we would live happily ever after. Life just didn’t know of my plans for him and I.

Just like I was clueless about life’s plans for me.

Does life ever go according to our plans? The actors in our life rarely follow the script we have written for them. The girl doesn’t always get the guy in the end. And sometimes it takes a time or two or ten to find the right one.

Then one day you wake up and you’re 41, with two daughters you’re trying to raise to be better women then you are. You’re trying to make ends meet when it seems the ends just keep getting further and further apart. You look in the rear view mirror and see two failed marriages and more mistakes than you like to think about.

Looking in the mirror you see a woman who has survived all of life’s trials, and the mother of two really amazing smart beautiful funny girls.

I’m not where I thought I’d be at 41, but I’m where I’m supposed to be.

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I am losing the ability to come up with witty intriguing titles for my blog posts

I went to the store a few nights ago just to pick up a few things. As I was checking out, I noticed there was new issues of Cosmo and Glamour on the shelves. 

I have been reading both since high school and never missed an issue.  Do you realize how much money I have spent over the course of 20 something years? 

I automatically reached for them, out of habit and put them on the counter along with the other items I was going to purchase.  I stood there looking at the cover with all the story headlines on it.  Headlines like “The New Sex position that works every time. Plus 15 more ways to heat things up”  “Lose 5 lbs in just 7 days” “3 questions that get a man to open up”. 

Who am I kidding?  I’m 40 years old.  If I don’t know several sex positions that turn him on, how to lose weight, or how to have a conversation with my man, I’m not going to get any life altering advice from these magazines. 

I put them back on the rack and went home.

I really am beyond those magazines.  They are written for young women, 20’s or 30’s.  There is nothing in those magazines for me any more.  But then the question becomes, what is out there for my age group?  There is Family Circle that my mother used to read, and I would read the ones left in the bathroom.  What? Even women need a few moments peace and quiet, and what better place to find it than the bathroom. 

Is there a magazine out there for a single mom trying to put a roof over her family’s head, braces on her child’s teeth, food on the table, clothes on their backs, and hold down a full time job outside the home, hold it all together and make it all work? 

Is there a place to get ideas about what to make for dinner out of macaroni peanut butter and Captain Morgan?  Is there a place to get advice on how to cope when you’re running late and both daughters come to you whining “I have nothing to wear”.   Where do I go to read about how other parents deal with blending families. 

For those reasons and so many more, I signed up at Blogher today. It is a community of women bloggers.   An online community of women.  Something I have been unable to find in real life.

So when I want to know how to deal with a hormonal 12 year old girl and the 9 year old sister who is one her nerves, I’ll go to Blogher.   When I want to know which sex position my man craves, I’ll ask him.  

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Friday Brain Dump

I hate the fact I have very little to blog about.  I have a family reunion coming up but I can’t really blog about that because someone stalks my blog to keep tabs on someone else in my life.  Cryptic? Yes.  They know who they are.

Summer is here.  That means vacations.  Since Batman and I both started the jobs we have now, last year, we are not eligible for vacation until end of July.  Of course the kids start school the middle of August so our options are limited.  Add to that the fact that his mom was going to give us money for our vacay (she’s giving his brother the same) and then the washer broke, the dryer broke, the grill broke, the septic tank sprung a leak and it looks like we’ll be staying home doing laundry and BBQing.  Oh and I forgot to mention, the motor on the boat also kicked the bucket, so we haven’t even made it to the lake yet this year.

It has hit 100+ the past 2 days, and it’s only June.  If this is any indication of what’s ahead, summer is going to be damn near unbearable.  When you reach 40, 100 degrees is way much hotter than it was when I was 18.

I have been doing some new things to the blog. (and once I start it’s hard for me to stop.)  Some behind the scenes, some you all can use (and I write that as if I actually have more than one reader).  The comments after each blog post has changed, and there are buttons on the side there that will link you to other places you can find me on the web.

I really do miss being a visible participant on the web.  I also know that in order to rekindle web friendships and meet new people I have to be on the web more than I am.  It takes a lot of time.  Hard to do when you have to be sneaky about it at work, and no Internet at home.  But I’m going to try.  No matter what I say, I really do crave comments just so I know I’m not writing this to hear myself type.

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Confession is good for the soul

Hilly has opened her Confession Booth today. Several bloggers, myself included, love love love the Confession Booth.

It got me thinking.  They say confession is good for the soul.  I’m not going to open my own confession booth (who would come?) but I thought I’d confess a few of my own secrets here.

I readily admit that I don’t have many long term close friends.  People think that is a strange thing, but I live my life to almost guarantee I don’t have friends.  It doesn’t bother me.  The few I do have a truly treasure but they (and I) don’t require every day contact.  A phone call or an email is good enough.

I would love a ring from Batman.  Just the ring.  I’m not in any hurry to get married and would be perfectly ok with just the ring for years.  It would be enough for me.  I’m sure he thinks I want the ring and the wedding and the marriage and that is why he won’t buy me one yet.

There are days I feel fat and frumpy and at 5? 7? and 125 lbs, I’m far like overweight people can because I will just piss people off.

I have a 16 year old son who lives with his dad.  I don’t see him nearly as often as I should or as often as I would like.  It makes my heart sad that that is true.  But I also understand at 16 friends are his life.  He would be miserable and bored here, so I don’t push the issue.  Still my heart misses him. More than he knows.

I am really snarky in my head and behind people’s back, but never to their face. Unless of course I know you well enough that I’m certain I can get away with it.  I am still way too concerned with offending people out of fear they won’t like me.

When Slug and I would argue I could argue circles around him and half way through an argument I would switch sides on him.  He of course would then have to switch sides to continue the argument then I could just agree with him.

My youngest daughter was a surprise. One I didn’t appreciate at the time.  She has turned out to be the joy of my life. 

At one time I dreamed of becoming a professional photographer even if only on the side.  I have come to accept that I will probably never be good enough to get paid for my photos.  Although I’m sad to let go of the dream, I’m also relieved to be free from some of the pressure. 

There are just a few of my confessions.   What do you want to get off your chest?  Confess it here, or go to Hilly’s. 

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Leaving the past behind

She sat across the table from her searching for any sign of the friend she once had in this person she didn’t know. Every now and then there would be familiar mannerism or a phrase, but for the most part her childhood friend had disappeared and this new person had taken her place.

This new person was nothing like her friend. Her friend had been left behind much like their friendship.  The friendship was important to them years ago when they were young.  Time had passed, and they had walked different paths and grown up.  They were no longer the same people that were friends in years past.

She tried to find the friendship but this new person was just too different. They had nothing in common any more.  Different isn’t wrong, but it is different.  They ran in different crowds, lived in different states.  They used to know everything about each other, now they knew nothing.

She began to wonder why they were sitting there at the table talking.  There was no point in trying to catch up.  How do you catch up 20 years?  They were strangers trying to reconstruct a friendship that had been left in the past when they grew up.  It was better left there, where the memories could remain untainted.  She knew sitting there that the friendship they once had was dead and gone and just a distant memory and that’s where it needed to stay.

Her “friend” began to fill her in about her life, I life she couldn’t relate to.  The ‘friend’ shared stories of mutual friends from school, but to her, they were all left in the past. She had moved on.

She didn’t judge this person, it wasn’t her place.  Different is different, not wrong.  The choices this person had made weren’t choices she would have made, but she didn’t have to live that life.

It didn’t matter if that night was the first nail or the final nail in the coffin; the end result was the same.  Their childhood friendship had died and could not be resurrected or picked up where they left it years ago.  Too much had changed, too much time had passed.  They were no longer the same people they had been.

She wished this new person luck and happiness all the while knowing their paths would never cross again.  Maybe they just needed closure, maybe this person was still holding on to days gone by.  She didn’t know, but she knew she could not be a part of living in the past.  She left that behind.

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Is shopping the Answer?

It seems that lately my life is similar to Britt’s or hers is similar to mine.  She has been blogging about some health issues she has been having, and if you’ve been here at all in the past few weeks, you know that I’ve been dealing with new medications. We have even been feeling the same, maybe to different degrees but enough that I can completely relate to her situation. 

So, last night I found that once again, my life had taken on the look and feel of Britt’s life.  I swear I am not stalking her, trying to be her, copying her life.  It’s just coincidence that our lives are sort of, semi, kind of, maybe similar if you squint just right. 

I’ve been working with my doctor to find the right combination of medication that makes it easier to face each day.  I’ve been all over the place, up, down, crazy, exhausted, just all over the place.  I’ve been able to go to work and maybe the store down the road and Batman’s and that’s just about it.  Going out, shopping, facing people has just been more than I can deal with lately. 

Until last night.  I left work early because I was feeling better than I have in a long time, and the thought of taking the girls out didn’t completely overwhelm me and wasn’t something I just couldn’t fathom.  I went home picked them up and we went shopping.  I found that the drive home didn’t ‘take it out of me’ and the thought of taking them shopping was something I could handle.  And if you’ve ever been shopping with a 12 and 9 year old, that is saying something. 

We went to 1 store.  We didn’t spend a bucket load of money, but we had fun.  We tried on clothes, we looked at shoes, they were thrilled to actually get to do something last night and I was hopeful that maybe, just maybe, I may finally be on track to getting my life back. 

Or maybe it’s just the woman’s need to shop that can pull us out of our funk.

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Hello. Remember me?

I am still alive and breathing. I am just going through the adjustment period of new medication and changing dosages. I hope things settle down soon. I miss being here.

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My Authentic Life

Years ago, in the process of my divorce (I think) my sister sent me an email that said something to the effect of  When we allow the universe to lead us to where we are meant to go, then we can live a true and authentic life.  (I have the exact words/email at home so this is not a direct quote)

But the underlying message she was telling me, is allow the universe to lead you.  Stop trying to control your life and just live it.   Stop trying to be someone or something you’re not.

Letting go is an issue I have always had problems with. I’ve had eating disorders that were centered on control.  I have destroyed relationships because I needed to be in control.  I have caused more problems than solved with my need to control things/people/my universe.

The phrase or the idea of  “living authentically” has been popping up all around the blogosphere this week.  Or at least the blogosphere neighborhoods I hang out in.  (ok, maybe not everywhere. Just here.  And here.  The universe tends to lead us where we need to lead to learn the lessons we need to learn.  I don’t think it’s a mistake that I have been lead to those two blogs.

I haven’t exactly been proud of who I am lately.  I don’t always like myself.

That is a difficult thing to admit.  First to myself, then to all of you.

What’s worse?  I know there are things I can do, things I can change to be the person I want to be, the person I could like.  I’m just too lazy to do them.  Again, blame it on exhaustion or depression from BPD.  Again, lying to myself.

I need to start exercising.  I need to start walking at least a half hour every night. Good fast pace walking.  Get  my heart rate up, clear my head and ward off the weight some of these medications can put on.

I need to pick up my camera and really work with it.  It’s easy to say I just haven’t “felt it” but the truth is, I am not nearly as good as I used to be (and even then I wasn’t great) and since I’ve lost some of that, I just don’t want to see how much I’ve lost.  I somehow have forgotten ignored the obvious, it takes practice to get better.  You can’t learn and grow and improve if you don’t pick up the camera and learn and grow and improve.

I need to work harder at keeping things picked up in my house.  My house isn’t dirty, it’s just messy or cluttered. (In my head there is a difference).  Taking 5 or 10 minutes every night to put away the day’s things, wouldn’t take much and would make me feel better.  After all, I spend a couple hours cleaning “our room” at Batman’s house, why can’t I do the same at mine?

I need to cut out the Mr. Goodbars and cut down on my caffeine intake and add more fruits and veggies to my diet.  At 40 my body doesn’t behave the way it did at 20.  I can not continue to abuse it with candy bars and soda for breakfast like I did in college.

I need to work on getting more, good sleep.  Being in bed for 8 hours and only sleeping 3 of those 8 just isn’t good for anyone. (Unless there are other forms of ‘exercise’ going on. That’s good for anyone.)

I would like to read more significant news and less fluff and stuff news about the celebrats in Hollywood. My mind it turning to peanut butter more and more each day, because I pay less and less attention to things going on in my world and the world at large.

I will be 41 in less than a month (Shop early, shop often, buy lots, I love presents) and it’’s time I started acting like it. It’s time to start being the adult I claim  I am.  It’s time I start taking better care of me and those around me.  It’s time to start taking an active part in my life.

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Going Outside

The first Crayon post, set off a shit storm of personal emails between myself and a former friend.  Once upon a time we were inseperable and best friends.  Time and distance changed that.  Her life went one way, mine another.  I can not, now should I, apologize for who I am.  I can not, will not apologize for my beliefs, nor will I back down from them.

The emails were hurtful, and hit below the belt.  Hard.  I will admit that I’m pretty sure my emails were more hurtful to her, than her’s were to me.  Reason for that belief? She felt the need to defend and protest her choices.  She felt the need to attack me personally.

None of that matters really.  This isn’t about her emails to me.  This is about me.  In the not so distance past she made a decision I could not support nor could I approve of.  Never mind her reasons, (Which legitimized it all in her head) I just couldn’t find any way to make it right. To me.  That’s the kicker.  *I* didn’t approve.  But who cares what I think?  (God I need to get on point here).

She made a decision.  She felt she needed to act on that decision.  I personally think her choice of actions were purly selfish and disrespectful for a whole lot of people with the potential to cause tremendous hurt and betrayal to players who were not part of the game when it bagan.

At the time, I kept my mouth shut, other than to tell her, it’s your life, it’s his life, do what you want.  You know, the osterich head in the sand approach.  Teflon defense.  At the time, I kept my opinion to myself because A) it would have caused an unecessay fight and B) it wouldn’t have changed her mind.  I didn’t approve, but I didn’t verbally disagree either.

In the course of the emails, she said that I wasn’t an authentic person, and truly not living an authentic life.  To a point she is right.  I shut up more often than I speak up.  But this time I did speak up.  Loudly.  I told her exactly what I thought.  I tried to not attack her as a person, but to ‘attack’ her choice and her actions.  For once, I stood up and had my peace, spoke my mind.

It still didn’t matter.  I didn’t unring the bell.  It didn’t change her mind.  She still believes what she did and why had a higher purpose that I’m just not enlightened enough to understand.  Her actions were ‘healing’ to her, regardless of how destructive and hurtful they could have been (and might very well have been, I don’t know) to other people indirectly involved.

My post about the Parades, the special months, the day of recognition was not limited to the gay and lesbian nation.  It could very well have been about African Americans (Lord, I’ve pissed off one group of people, why not another…) or even religious affiliations.  It was a generic analogy about any group of people who expect preferential attention because they are different while crying for equality.

I will concede I may  not have worded it well. I will admit that I may not have had the greatest command of my words in order to voice an opinion. But the horors of horors, I voiced an opinion and got lambasted for it.  Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.  The opinons are not wrong for that person, but shouldn’t we be able to disagree without personally attacking each other and telling each other “YOU ARE WRONG!” because you know what?  They think the same thing about you.

I could let what she said about me change me, put me back under the rock I have hidden under all these years avoiding controversy and running scared when someone disagrees with my point of view or when I disagree with theirs.    But I’m not going to give her that power.  I’m going to be true to me.  I’m going to voice opinions and learn to stand here and read comments that disagree with me and learn to have a poliet educated debate about whatever issues I write about.  I’m going to learn to stand outside my comfort zone.  And stand on what I believe in.

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