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November 9th, 2009
The other night during the girls’ avoiding going to bed chit/chat the sentance was uttered, “[certain family member who shall remain nameless] told us we are oops babies.”
Oops Babies.
This is not the first time this [family memeber who shall remain nameless] has over stepped her their bounds. It is not the first time they have opened their mouth and told my kids things they had no business telling my kids. All because they felt my kids should know and didn’t agree with my parenting decisions.
But Oops Babies? Seriously?
I don’t care who you are, you don’t ever tell a child they are an Oops baby. I know that it was said as a derogatory remark against me and/or their father (mostly me). I mean, not every baby out there is planned for or at the right time. And does it matter if we planned for them at that exact time? They are loved and wanted.
I had to explain to them that the comment wasn’t meant to hurt them, but was made in the hopes it would get back to me and hurt me. (It pissed me off). I had to explain to the girls that plans aren’t always written in stone. The planning doesn’t matter, it’s the journey and the love and caring they’ve had along the way.
When it was said, my first instinct, as a mother, was to protect my girls and in protecting them, I wanted to attack the source of the stupidity that had put that hurtful idea in their heads. I wanted to call [family member who shall remain nameless, unless you want to name her meddling, coniving hateful *ahem*] and give her them a piece of my mind.
Then I wanted to call a different familymember who is removed from the situation and get their take on it.
But I didn’t. I walked away from it. The remark was said in the hopes it would piss me off and stir up a whole lot of drama. If I reacted, then it would be playing into her their hands. I didn’t need to make a big scene out of this. I needed to just blow it off and be the bigger person.
And I need to remind the girls that what [family member who shall remain nameless, but not absent from their life] said it doesn’t make it true and it doesn’t change what truly matters.
Planned or not, they are loved.
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November 8th, 2009
The ugly truth had revealed itself in front of him. She had hopped to avoid it that day, but fate had turned it’s back on her. The rage she saw in her eyes scared her, scared her in a way she had never been scared of him before. She was sure she knew what was coming, if not now, sometime, and that hurt her, destroyed her more than being a disappointment and failure in his eyes.
She knew to leave him alone, at least while the rage boiled in his veins, even when it cooled to a simmer, it would do her no good. When he got to the point of being able to talk to her without the rage, there would be a lecture and she knew the best way to weather that storm was to just shut up and let him go. Whatever she said in explanation or defense wouldn’t matter, and would only serve to reignite the rage.
She wanted to disappear. She wanted to just stop being, crawl into a hole, or just no longer be. Doing that would leave her kids in an awful place and that’s what kept her from going too far.
The familiar urge was there. Her friend of long ago. The one who offered answers. She didn’t have to disappear, she just needed to hurt and punish herself for being so stupid and irresponsible. She needed a way to lash out at the person she was pissed off at. That person was her.
She found herself walking upstairs to the bathroom. She knew what she was looking for. If it wasn’t there, she knew where there were more. But as luck would have it, it was there in the basket.
Looking at her arms she noticed luck had smiled on her yet again. There were scratches on her arm already from the work she had done that morning. Easy enough to explain the cuts she would inflict now.
She put the knife to her arm and began to cut. Not deep enough to do real damage, but surly deep enough to bleed. She watched the blood rise to the top and then slowly run down her arm. She was actually surprised at how little it hurt to cut that deep, and the relief she felt at the sight of her own blood. Two cuts weren’t enough to make her feel better, but she knew any more would be impossible to hide or explain.
She cleaned the cuts with alcohol wipes welcoming the sting from that too. When the scabs form she will pick them being sure a scar is left behind. To join the others she had.
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November 7th, 2009
Today was Moving Day Part I. That means the kids and I moved a lot of boxes and light furniture into the new house. As the day wore on, the kids dropped out one by one until it was just me and Scooter. Scooter and I are pretty tight because I can be a teenager toowhen I want to. Oh and I understand juvenile humor.
We were laughing and carrying on when I noticed a fly in the truck.
Scooter do you ever wonder if flies get lost?
Huh?
I mean this fly was just minding his own business when he flew into the window. For all we know he was on his way to get take out for dinner and took a short cut through the truck. When all of a sudden we shut the doors, trapping him inside and drive 6 miles down the road, 6 miles away from where he started. He just flew over 6 miles without physically flying further than inside the truck. Now he’s lost, and his family is at home waiting for dinner not knowing that he is half way across town, which to them could be half way around the world. Of course when his family realizes he’s not coming home, they will report him missing, and when they can’t find him, his wife will have to turn to a life of prostituion just to support her family because he didn’t have sufficient life insurance and without a body they can’t really prove he died so the life insurance company is refusing to pay out the benefits.
Of course that had Scooter bent over in fits of laughter.
Driving home we see a rather large dead bird on the side of the road.
Look Scooter, it looks like Heny didn’t make it home last night.
Huh?
Look, we all know that Henry is a really bad drunk, sloppy and all. And he’s been warned about flying after he’s been drinking. He’s gotten 2 FWI’s and one more would mean he was grounded for life. Looks like he went on another bender last night and well, it looks like he took a header and plow, face first. Of course that makes it hard to identify the body, but he smelled like Henry’s brand of whisky so I’m sure someone will be along to claim the body. Or not. He was a mean drunk at times.
So, tell me a story about my dog Lady. (3 years ago Lady went on a grand walk about)
Well, you konw when she ran away from the groomers a few years ago?
Yeah,
We she told my why she did that. Want to hear the story? It’s quite facinating.
Sure.
As you know Mimi had taken the dogs to the groomers that day. Usually Lady loves a day at the spa. You know getting a mani/pedi and being pampered and spoiled coming home all pretty and smelling good. But this time well, she didn’t want a hair cut. (fade to Lady’s memories of that day) While I love and oh god do I need a mani/pedi I do not want my hair cut. I’m trying to grow it out because Harley down the street likes longer hair. I know if I had a long luxurious shiny coat he would totally notice me. But oh now, my human’s just don’t get it. They insist on cutting my hair and keeping it short. Don’t they know that the buzz look just makes me look like a dyke and well, that is so counterproductive to my plot to snag get Harley up the street to notice me and convince him to be my love slave, put him under my spell, have him fall madly in love with me, Iave a conversations with him. When I saw my chance I made a run for it. Well, that plan totally backfired. I didn’t think it through very well. I mean, I got as far as run away. After that I was pretty much winging it. So, I started running towards home thinking I’d make it home before dark. Yeah, that didn’t work out so well. By the time I was found and got back home, three weeks had gone by, my hair and nails were a mess, I was skin and bones and Harley was involved with that french bitch down the street, Fifi.
So, dear readers, answer me this. How is it that I can spin crazy nonsensical tales like those above, but can not for the life of me come up with a meaningful blog post to save my life?
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November 6th, 2009
I’m about to fall flat on my face, yet again. Oh and put my foot in my mouth along the way. I’m graceful like that.
Yesterday when the news broke about the Fort Hood shooting my first question was “Them or us?”
That is a very tellling quesiton and one that is not altogether unreasonable.
8 years ago, we never could have imagined or prepared for an attack on our country with our own planes. They did and that meant that anything was possible. Even things we had never even dreamed or thought or considered.
If the Fort Hood shootings had taken place before September 11, we would have just assumed it was an American who had gone postal.
After September 11, it very well could have been one of them.
It is no longer unfathomable or unthinkable for the terriorist to either recruit a current member of our military, or to have one of their own enlist in our military. It’s not outside the realm of possibilities that the next attack against us, on our soil, will come from ‘within’ from ‘one of our own’.
Homeland security has been diligent in protecting our borders, with increased security at our airports. They have monitored and investigated threats and plots ag ainst America and have actually prevented some. But preventing terrorists to enter our country isn’t the most we can do.
It is possible that the terrorists will come from inside.
The fact is, it is now possible that ‘they’ could be one of ‘us’.
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November 4th, 2009
I’m toying with a new idea on my blog. I think it sounds fun, but it requires reader participation and I’m not sure there would be enough participation to get it off the ground. I thought it would be fun to have readers sumbit questions, and let my girls (12 and 10) answer them. Maybe it’s just cool to me, yanno because I’m mom and stuff. *Sigh* that will just have to sit on the back burner for a bit.
Something else has crossed my mind. I’ve heard several people say “Winning a million dollars in the lottery would totally change my life.” You know, quit my job, pay off my house, buy a car, travel, blah blah blah. I’m here to tell you winning the lottery isn’t all everyone dreams it will be. I mean, I’m sure if the jackpot was big enough then yeah, life would be mucho better. But like Dr. Phil said (Shut it, I only llistened once.) Money doesn’t solve money problems, lifestyle changes solve money problems.
B’s parents won the lottery 11 years ago. Multiple millions (read more than 1 less than 10) paid out over 20 years. I always wondered about the behind the scenes lives of lottery winners. Multiple millions sounds like the perfect quit-you-job-live-on-a-permanent-vacation kind of life. I always thought it was, until I came face to face with litterally a millionaire.
They took the 20 year payout option. That guaranteed them a set amount income for the next 20 years. At their age, that’s a good thing, a comforting thought. So, once a year, they geta check from the lottery commision for 1 year’s payment. Minus taxes. They have to take that lump sum and budget it for a full year of car payments, utilities, insurance, living expenses, state and federal income taxes (because they NEVER take enough) because once that money is gone there will not be another payment until the next year. So if you go out and buy your heart’s desire and blow all that money, well, you had better have a job to get you through the other 11 months till the next check is sent.
Don’t even get me started on the tax nightmare it is. In your budget you had better set aside a good portion to retain an attorney and an accountant. You will need both. Just to get through the months of December, January, February, March and April.
Now, it’s not to say that life as a millionaire sucks, even a single million dollar millionaire. There are perks involved. With the lottery money, B’s mom lives in a house big enough for her kids and grandkids to come stay for a weekend. She has an in ground pool in her back yard for the grandkids. She drives a BMW that we all can fit in. She doesn’t have to work. She is able to buy what she wants or needs within reason. All of her jewelry is solid gold, read diamonds, and one of a kind. But she also buys some of her clothes at Target. She has Italian shoes, bhe she also has Payless heels.
The really cool thing about Brian’s mom (and dad before he died) is that at one point in their life they had $200 to their name with a house payment and groceries to cover. They’ve struggled. But with the lottery money, it didn’t change who they were. They didn’t snub their noses at friends who were still struggling. Their house, while big, is warm and inviting and truly a home. A home to 4 dogs, 4 grandkids and 3 adults.
Sure life with a million dollars (or more) sounds like easy street. It definately is ‘easier’ street. So what would I do with a million dollars? Give to someone to invest, and go to work the next day.
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October 31st, 2009
Wouldn’t it be nice if at birth we were all given a manual, a how to manual, and when we came up against something we weren’t sure how to handle, we could just look it up in the manual.
Like how exactly do you deal with moving out of your boyfriend’s house because you found your own? I mean, that was the deal. I move in here until I could find a place I could afford. I found my new house this week. I’ve got a week to 10 days before it’s ready for me to move in. So where is the chapter in that book that tells me how to transition from living with him to living alone? Where’s the chapter that tells me he will still love me even when I’m not sleeping next to him every night? Where to find the answers to questions such as “What’s for dinner? Where are my jeans? Can you help me with my homework?” when someone else has answered those questions for 2 months? Where do I find the reasuring words “It’s all going to be ok. Nothing’s going to change?”
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October 29th, 2009
I sat down today, pen in hand and started to write all that was on my brain. I’ve been in a funk for the past few days. I thought it might be my medication, but even with a couple tweeks to my cocktail I’m still feeling out of sorts. Then the thought occured to me that maybe it’s not my cocktail that is off, maybe it’s the people around me. I mean, I can only take so many pills and if people are still assholes, well all the pills I swallow won’t change that fact.
I needed to vent, blow off steam, expell all I’ve been keeping inside just dump my brain if you will. Rid myself of all this frustration I’ve been keeping inside.
Dear, well, you know who you are. You make it your business to know everything. Even things that are none of your business. I used to share a lot of things with you, a lot of things about my life. Sure I’d been warned, but I ignored the warnings. Then I figured out that you weren’t asking about my life because you actually cared, you were just asking because you were nosy. My life is not 100% open for public consumption. Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me. But don’t be pissed when I shut you out. It’s your problem. I unfriended you and blocked you as well on Facebook. I’m shutting you out. I hate being used as a source of your gossip.
To the person who peppered me with F-bombs a few weeks ago. I understand people’s need to vent about situations. But there is no need to drop that many eff bombs at me because you’re mad at something out of my control. I could have helped but after that conversation I was a whole lot less than inclimed to lift a finger for you. I could probably forgive and forget if you would just say “I’m sorry”. Saying “It wasn’t directed at you” is not the same. And because of all that, I refuse to grant you any personal favors. You can not pepper me with f-bombs and expect me to be your BFF.
A few months a ago I wrote a blog post that you didn’t agree with. You jumped my shit, and you’re allowed to have an opinion different from mine. I respect that. What I don’t respect is you throwing things in my face that have nothing to do with what I wrote. When you crossed that line I had nothing to lose. I stopped pretending I accepted what you were doing in your life, when in fact I believed to my core that what you were doing was selfish, and disrespectful. You blew up at me and then shut me out of your life. I barely notice. I still stand by every word I said. Your guilt trip won’t work on me.
To my ex husband, telling the girls that you are ‘trying to save up child support’ is not the same as sending child support. It also sounds less authentic when you tell the girls you are going to remodle and add on to your house. Oh and telling them you know that child support would make their life here so much easier, adds a rather pleasant touch to that whole bag of lies you’re trying to sell. The only thing that money you’re saving in your pants pocket is supporting would be your balls if you actually still had them.
To everyone out there. When I am being quiet and not joining in it does not mean I’m in a downward spiral. Sometimes I have nothing to say. Sometimes I know it’s better to keep my mouth shut. Sometimes I know I’m in a manic or depressive stage and that my perception of things is skewed so I stay quiet.
Unfortunately for you, this is not one of those times.
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October 26th, 2009
Halloween is sneaking up on us. Ok, more like rush at us like a freight train. Well, maybe not that fast. Whatever. It’s coming.
This was our last weekend to have the kids before the big wear-funky-clothes-and-go-door-to-door-begging-for-candy-from-strangers night. We spend months if not years teaching our children ‘don’t take candy from strangers’ and then one night a year we dress them up and send them out to do exactly what we’ve taught them not to do.
The kids won’t be with us this year, and since it was cold and wet and raining and the weekend before Halloween we thought it was the perfect day to take them to the pumpkin patch because we’re good parents like that.
There happen to be a corn maze there. Of course that’s where the kids wanted to go. Pumpkins? What pumpkins?
Don’t you want pumpkins for Halloween?
Yeah, sure whatever. Can we go in the corn maze?
ADD much?
We let them go to the corn maze. We sent a 14-year-old boy, followed by his 12, 10, and 7-year-old sisters. The male had the map.
Three guesses as to what happened?
They got lost.
In a 10 acre corn maze.
In the cold damp weather.
Did I mention it was raining?
Did I mention there was mud? A lot of it.
They found every bit of it.
They didn’t however find their way of the maze.
Over an hour later, Brian asked for a map and went in to find them. It wasn’t hard if you followed the map, watched the checkpoints and listened for them. (They are LOUD with a capital L-O-U-D)
Brian came out of the maze followed by three cold wet very muddy children who were bubbling over with tales of their adventure. They would have stayed another hour if we let them. They probably wouldn’t have found their way out be then either.
Where was the map?
Funny you should ask.
It was in Scooter’s pocket, because ‘it was getting wet’ besides he’s a boy, and we all know men don’t read maps.
We got them all in the car, and headed home to a hot home cooked meal. When from the back seat we hear…
“But I didn’t get my pumpkin!’
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October 24th, 2009
Since I am not entirely sure what I can/will be blogging about, I can say with a great deal of confidence I will not be blogging about the following.
- Avitaween I just don’t understand how am jealous of people who can travel across the country for a weekend of drunken debauchery Halloween Party. I mean I totally get why they would want to after all I would give my left arm to party with the likes of Britt, Adam, Hilly, Karl, Poppy and Dawg and Dave. But apparently none of the airlines will take left arms as a form of payment, so I am stuck at home throwing back rum and cokes visiting the pumpkin patch with 4 wild indians children I love to death.
- How wonderful everything is at home because right now it a great big pile of fuck you. Lines have been drawn, his kids against mine and of course he sides with his as I watch them run over mine and I’m stuck wondering who’s side do I take? The ones I gave birth to or the person I have to sleep beside tonight? I think I’ll go sleep in the fucking car.
- Christmas. I am not even thinking about it. I’ve got Halloween and Thanksgiving to deal with before then. Besides when you are a flat ass broke as I am, Christmas is the last thing I want to think about. Oh and how much fucking fun I’m having in this twisted effed up fun house I’m living in tonight.
- How easy it would be to just not take my medication tonight consequences be damned. After all they won’t improve the situation any.
- How this clusterfuck is all my mind can focus on tonight and how my blog seems to be the dumping ground for things that suck lately.
- The whole TSA incident. I had my say once. The incident seems to still be making the rounds and I’m just about done with it.
- I won’t be blogging about anything I have going on in my head right now. I’m just to pissed off and tired to watch and filter what I say and tomorrow next week next year someday maybe I will regret it. Maybe
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