School's (Almost) Out For Summer

I can’t believe the school year for the kids is finished. Last year on May 27 I was writing this same thing. They were supposed to be finished on May 24 this year but had that extra week off after the Christmas break because of bad weather. Their last official day is June 2 and it’s only a half day; they’ll get dismissed at 12:15. They’re very excited. That’s for the boys. Dolly actually finishes tomorrow. The Headstart kids have to finish before the other schools because there won’t be busses available to return everyone home if they all finish on the same day. Ty is finishing second grade, Zach is finishing first grade, and Dolly is finishing her first year of pre-school. I’m so proud of them all.

Tomorrow is the boys’ awards assembly. It’s from 9:00-9:45 in the morning so Dolly and I will be there. I’ll have my camera handy also because the boys always win something. It’s just adorable watching them walk up to the stage to get whatever awards they’ve won. They always look so proud and I always feel a sense of pride for them. I’ve got tears in my eyes as I write this because the thought of them winning is just the greatest. I can imagine what I’ll be like when they graduate high school and then college if I’m like this while they’re in elementary school. Geez, I’ll be bringing boxes of tissue to school events as they grow.

We had water day last Friday, the awards tomorrow, and their last day will consist of a kickball game between the teachers and the fifth graders, then they’ll have time for yearbook signing, then dismissal. I simply can’t believe another year has come and gone. It seems like only last week I was taking pictures of them on their first days of school. They were so excited to be going and Dolly just couldn’t wait to get on her bus. It’s times like this I long for the days when they were still babies but I’m really glad they’re not. It’s an honor just watching them grow into the people they’re supposed to be. Granted, they do get on my nerves a lot lately, but it’s all a part of the growing process.

So, after Wednesday, they’ll be free until Monday when they – just the boys – start summer school which will run from June 7 until July 9. Zach says the only reason he’s going is to get the $100 gift card. That’s fine with me because that’s the only reason I send them. If there was no incentive, they’d be home if they chose to be home. We take the gift cards and buy them each something for completing school and the rest comes to me to buy household stuff and school supplies for the next year. With luck, and if the Universe answers my challenge, my kids will be going to school somewhere in Maryland in the fall. That’s why I want this move to be made before the summer is finished.

Now that I know there is summer school, I’ll be totally grateful for an apartment lease that begins anywhere from July 15 – August 1. That’ll give the kids a chance to get those gift cards and I’ll have time to pack while they’re out of the house. Then we’ll all have time to adjust to our new surroundings before the next school year begins. I’ve put the challenge out there, now the ball is in the Universe’s court. I’m just going to do what I need to do as usual and whatever happens, happens. It’s out of my hands now. Tomorrow I’ll walk the boys to school, come home with Dolly and run to Dollar General when it opens to get a few things. Then we’re off to the awards assembly and back home after that where I’ll continue doing laundry. I’ll put her on the bus at 11:45 and will be free until 2:30 when the boys get home. It’s the same old routine that I really want to shake up over the next couple of weeks. When summer school ends I want to be packed and ready to get on the road. We’ll see.

Until next time…peace to all.

Bikes and Other Expenses

This morning the kids and I spent over three hours looking for a new bike for Dolly. A couple of days ago we’d gone out to run an errand and come home to discover her bike next to our front door. I didn’t know she’d left it out when we were gone. That irritated me right off the bat. As we got out of the van and headed into the house I asked Ty to bring her bike in with us, which he did. It was sitting in the kitchen for a while when Ty noticed that the seat was wobbly. Someone in the neighborhood had broken the seat halfway off the post. It could no longer be ridden. I was pissed. Not only did I not know who’d done it, but I did know that there was no way of finding out who did it because none of the little punk-ass kids in this area will actually admit to anything. It’s bullshit if you ask me.

A couple of months ago they’d also broken her scooter because they were too rough on it after I’d told them umpteen times to stay off of her toys. Of course, nobody admitted to riding or breaking the scooter even though there were witnesses who saw a couple of different kids riding it. How was I supposed to find out who broke the bike when nobody was around to see who did that? It just really pisses me off that parents don’t even teach their kids empathy for someone else. What I’d really like to do is take something from each of the kids around here and bust the shit out of it so they can see what it feels like to have something of theirs taken from them. It’ll never happen but it’s a nice dream.

Anyway, the four of us went out at 10:00 this morning in search of a new big-girl bike for Dolly. The one that got broken was a 12” and the seat was up all the way. The problem was that the handlebars couldn’t go up any further and she was still eating her kneecaps when she rode. It was time for a new bike I was just hoping to make it a couple of more weeks. Our first stop was Wal-Mart. I love that store, as I’ve previously mentioned. I loved it until today, that is. There was nothing in the girls’ bike selection except the bikes that are $75 and over. It’s a child’s toy for shit’s sake, not a professional bicycle. She’s not going to be doing stunts on it or anything, just riding it around the parking lot. When we bought the boys’ bikes two years ago, we got generic bikes that were $50 each. The generic girls’ bikes were sold out, of course; and all that was left were the Barbie and Princess models. I wonder why!! I’m betting it’s because nobody in their right mind would be dumb enough to pay $75 for a little girls’ bike; nobody except my neighbors, that is.

About a week ago, they came home with a Barbie bike for their 4-year-old daughter; the one with the Barbie that sits on the front of the bike (an accessory that costs $20+ all on its own, mind you). Of course, Dolly wanted the same bike. So I asked my neighbor how much it cost and where they got it. I’d checked online and it showed that Wal-Mart and K-Mart both sold them but that they were expensive. She said they’d gotten it at Wal-Mart for $59 plus tax so it came to $60-something. HAH!! What a load of bullshit!! I was in Wal-Mart and they didn’t even have an empty space for a $59 Barbie bike. The cheapest one was $75. Why lie to me? What the fuck was the point? I can’t stand lying anyway so that just took credibility away from my neighbor, in my eyes.

The clerk in Wal-Mart tells me that they have some of the generic bikes coming in this evening – they only cost $50 – but I can’t wait; Dolly needs a bike today. So we leave and go to Toys-R-Us. Same thing there and they even had some returns that they were selling “As Is.” I couldn’t find out what they were going for, however, because the Nimrod family was there buying something for their daughter and had the sales clerk tied up like they were buying a new car. I don’t have time to wait so we leave and head to Big K-Mart. They’ve got bikes too but only the adult bikes are assembled. I couldn’t even find a clerk to ask if they would put a child’s bike together for me. We left there too and headed to the K-Mart next to our house.

On the way, though, I stopped at McDonald’s to get us a treat – McFlurries – which, by the way, cost $12 for all four. What the fuck? They’re ice cream with M&M’s in it. I could’ve bought a tub of ice cream and two bags of M&M’s for less than $12 and we could’ve eaten McFlurries at home all week long. So we arrive at the other K-Mart to find the same thing – only adult bikes assembled and no clerk on site. Zach runs to the Customer Service desk to have a clerk paged and we wait…and wait…and wait. He goes back and someone is paged again…with the same result. He had $20 of his own and found a skateboard he wanted to he decided to buy it. When I got fed up with the waiting, we walked to the CS desk where he paid for his skateboard and where I rudely told the cashier that nobody ever showed up to help us with a bike so we were going to Toys-R-Us to buy one. She apologized but I really didn’t care. This is just another example of me having to wait on someone and getting no result. Fuck ‘em.

On our way back to Toys-R-Us I made a quick stop at Cargo Largo that a friend said should have bikes. “Brand new merchandise at really low prices,” she’d told me. What I found was that it was a fucking warehouse of disorganized crap. Nothing was on the shelves, nothing was in any coherent order or location, and everyone shopping there looked like they’d just stepped off the Clampett homestead. No offense to anyone is intended at all by that remark. It’s just my opinion. We were, literally, in and out of that store in about 90 seconds, plus, they didn’t sell bikes so it was a complete waste of time anyway.

Back in the van and back to Toys-R-Us again. This time there wasn’t a family shopping for anything so Zach ran to find a clerk. A nice gentleman came to assist us and I explained the problem. I need a 16” bike for my daughter but nobody has any bikes for less than $75 and I won’t pay that much just because it has a Barbie or a Princess on it. He said that’s what everyone is carrying now and I’d be hard-pressed to find anything less expensive. I asked him how much the “As Is” return was and I almost passed out right there - $109.99. It’s a fucking return moron; the tires were already dirtied so someone had been riding it for a couple of hours, at least. Then I found a cute little green and pink one that had a price tag of $54.99. That wasn’t too bad. Of course, to get it assembled it was an extra $10. Shit, I can assemble it myself; just give it to me so I can be on my way. He checks stock and, guess what, none in back. The only one there is the one I’m looking at so I’ll have to be charged the extra $10. Give me a fucking break, would you please? Whatever, she needs a bike and I want to go home.

Dolly insisted on having a $6 Princess bell to put on the bike, too, so we wheeled the bike to the register and $77 later we were on our way home. Get home, take off the plastic coverings and the tags, and she’s off and riding. She loves her bike and I’m glad; it’s her first real big-girl bike that’s brand new. Every other bike or trike she’d had was given to her by someone else. I’m still disgruntled with the cost. Because I was in such a rush to go home, I didn’t really question whether the salesman was bullshitting me about there being none in the back simply because he wanted to make an extra $10 but I will find out tomorrow. I’m going to call and ask if they have any in stock and, if they say they do, I’ll be returning to get my $10 returned to me.

I forgot to mention, too, that the boys insisted on having a small token today so that cost a little extra. I just can’t believe that between two small toys, four ice cream treats and one bicycle, I spent $100. Not to mention that I had to put $10 worth of gas in the van from all the driving around town. It’s no wonder the economy sucks with rip-off prices like these. People are complaining that nobody can afford anything these days and I absolutely agree. Maybe if the businesses lowered their prices, consumers could afford more, which would boost sales which would boost the job market which would boost the economy. If we have to keep paying $2.60 for a little 8oz cup of ice cream, though, conditions aren’t about to improve anytime soon. It really is ridiculous.

Until next time…peace to all.

Challenge

At the end of last night’s post I mentioned that I was going to write about my nosey neighbor tonight, the one who has to be outside every time something happens so she can get into everyone else’s business. That’s going to have to wait because tonight the gloves are off – so to speak. The Universe and I are having it out once and for all over this move to the East Coast that I want so desperately.

After all the crap that I’ve already mentioned about this neighborhood, today Ty informed me that a 13-year-old neighborhood boy was showing the younger kids porno videos on his cell phone. Confirming it with a couple of other kids that Ty mentioned saw the videos (Ty tends to over-exaggerate at times so I don’t jump just because he tells me something happened), I told one of the other mothers what happened and she wasn’t too happy either so we found out where this kid lives and we spoke with his mother about it. She apologized for it and said she’d take care of it but we know she won’t. Most of the mothers/parents around this area don’t care what their kids are doing and it makes me sick.

So here’s the deal: I won’t spend my summer telling my kids to stay away from this kid, and avoid talking to that kid and just ignore the other kid. I won’t do it!! I can’t stand being here any more and my kids don’t like it either. Ty is tired of the kids making fun of him all the time. Zach can’t figure out whether he’s supposed to be a follower or a leader. If his friends start acting like little punks he’s not sure what to do and is torn between doing what they do and risking getting in trouble or doing his own thing and risking getting picked on by them. Dolly only has a couple of little friends but they are really bossy. I know these things happen everywhere and kids will be kids, but if my kids could get a fresh start with a new group of friends, maybe things will be a lot better for them. They’ll also be closer to their dad, too, so they can see him occasionally. If life is better for them, it’ll be better for me.

Moving will also benefit me for a couple of reasons. I’ll be near people I actually like and enjoy talking to every day. Ellen will be nearby so we can work and visit together; and I’ll only be a couple of hours away from my friends on Long Island so road trips would occur when time allows. I’ll be able to find work – freelance paralegal stuff – that I can do from home so I can still be there to take care of the kids and attend their school functions, and whatever else they want to do. I’ll be generating an income to support my family and I won’t be solely reliant on child support as I have been for the past four years. I’ll be able to relax and not have the entire neighborhood in my business every minute of every day – with luck, anyway. I really just can’t stand being here, in this neighborhood, around these people all day, every day. It’s taking its toll on me and my sanity.

Tonight I’m challenging the Universe to yield to me NOW!! I’m tired of asking and not seeing any results when I want to see them. It took three years of me asking for the money to tag my van to arrive; I absolutely will not wait that long to be able to move from here. I’m extremely grateful for everything I’ve got – my kids, my friends, my home, money to pay my bills and get the kids what they need and want, and everything else I’ve got – but I’m tired of being told “all in good time” whenever I ask the Universe to provide. I don’t want to hear anyone tell me, “Sometimes the answer is ‘yes,’ sometimes the answer is ‘no,’ and sometimes the answer is ‘not now’.” I’m sick of that. If my kids asked me something and I ignored them or just made them wait for an answer so they didn’t know whether or not I was actually listening to them, I’d be paying for that; they’d let me know in no uncertain terms that they don’t like being ignored. That’s how I feel. If I ask the Universe for something, I expect an answer and, right now, I’m feeling really ignored.

Should I take it personally? No, I shouldn’t; but I am. I am sitting here watching people in my life just move forward and get everything they want, whether it’s deserved or not, while I’m sitting here stagnating. I’m sick of it and I want the Universe to respond immediately!! I haven’t seen any signs recently nor have I received any signal that I’m still moving forward. I thought that, when I got my car tagged, everything else would slowly fall into place. Unless I’m really missing something, it’s not. I’ve just got a van with tags on it now. Yes, I’m grateful for it, but I deserve more, my kids deserve more, we demand more, and we will have more. I want for us what we deserve and I want it now, in physical world time, not metaphysical world time.

I am, literally, at my wits end as far as faith is concerned. Faith is believing without seeing but I’m finding that I’ve got a limit. I can’t sit here indefinitely and continually believe and have faith that everything will work out the way I want it when nothing is happening to move me in that direction. I believe I will move us to MD, and that we deserve it, and I’m putting out all the positive vibes and energy that I can, but I’m beginning to believe that I’ll have to do it all on my own. I’ve done everything I can to get the move done, but the Universe doesn’t seem to be backing me up right now. Don’t say, “That’s the Universe’s way of telling you now is not the time.” Now is the time. What other time is there; what else is on my to-do list before this move can take place? Whatever it is, the Universe isn’t speaking up about it.

I need answers and I need them now. If something spectacular doesn’t happen between now and the end of this week, I can’t say I’ll have any faith left. I’ll even go public with my impending belief that we are alone and have to face the World and our challenges by ourselves. So, come on Universe!!! If you’re there and helping me, give me a big-ass sign about something. You’re about to lose more believers if you don’t come through for me now – ‘now’ in my time, not ‘now’ in your time. Step up to the plate and prove there’s something out there that’s bigger and more powerful than I am and that you can help me make this move across the country. Prove that miracles do happen. I triple-dog dare ya.

Until next time…peace to all.

I Won't Let It Ruin My Day

I had a fabulous day with the kids. Dolly and I walked the boys to school this morning. On the way home I thought it would be fun for Dolly and me to go to the school talent show – just for shits and giggles. We got home, I cleaned half the house (only had dusting and vacuuming left) and we went off to the school. The talent show was fun: children from different grades performed and, after all the performances, some of the teachers participated in some really fun games for the kids. It was a really good show. While I was there, I was speaking to the President of the PTA, who is a friend and whose son is in Dolly’s Headstart class. Dolly and the little boy are best friends, so I’m told. They’re really cute together.

Anyway, my friend asked me if we were returning for Water Day later in the afternoon. I said ‘no’ because the notice sent home said it was only for the students of the school, same as it had for years gone by. She told me that younger siblings could attend, IF mom was there with them. So, Dolly and I decided we would attend but we had to go home first and change our clothes to something that could get wet. Then we were off to CAPA – she for counseling and I for the Mindfulness class I’ve been taking. Our CAPA visit was from 11-12 and Water Day started at 12 and ran to dismissal (2:15). We got there about 12:15 and went to the little inflatable water slide my friend was running. Dolly loved it. They climbed up the middle and slid down either side into a standing pool of water. She had a blast. While she was doing that I walked around to find the boys.

There were about ten game stations that the classes rotated through after a certain amount of time had passed. Some were field stations and some were water stations but each class got to attend each station one time during the event. I found each of my boys’ classes and hung with them at a station or two, having fun and getting sprayed by the fire hoses. A fire truck was on scene to supply the water – one spray off the truck and two hoses dragged into the middle of the blacktop spraying anything and everything. They firemen were using me for target practice at one point but the kids loved it. Each kid even got the opportunity to hold the fire hose, with Mr. Fireman holding onto it also, so they were very excited about that. Everyone there was soaked and everyone had a great day.

Then it was over and we came home, changed into dry clothes, I did the dusting and vacuuming and we headed out to the supermarket to get some milk and bread and I picked them up some Kid Cuisines for dinner and a box of brownie mix so I could make a snack for later. They played outside, came in and ate, played outside some more then I called them in early because it had been a really long day and the kids were exhausted; I could tell by looking at them. I even gave them a special treat tonight – they each had three brownies (I cut them small so three would look like more). Then it was time to call Dad to say goodnight and everything was on the verge of falling apart.

Tyler got the phone first and dialed Paul’s number. They chatted for a while and Tyler handed the phone to Zach. He chatted for a minute or two and then said, “Hello? Hello? He’s gone.” The phone was dead so I assumed, as any rational person would, that they got disconnected. They called his cell phone and we all know how reliable they are. I told them to call him back so they could get ready for bed. Ty tried around six times and finally got Paul on the phone saying they got disconnected. Ty gave a few “Ohs” and “Yeas” and handed me the phone. I’d told him the first time that I wanted to talk to Paul before they hung up so I figured he was giving me the phone for that reason. I said “Hello” and he gave back a very loud “Hey.” I asked why he was yelling at me and was told, “YOU NEED TO INSTRUCT THESE GOD DAMNED KIDS THAT WHEN I SAY I HAVE TO CALL THEM BACK BECAUSE I’M AT WORK, THEY HAVE TO WAIT FOR ME TO CALL THEM!!” I began to ask what he was talking about but he interrupted with, “LISTEN TO ME!! YOU NEED TO INSTRUCT THESE GOD DAMNED KIDS THAT WHEN I SAY I HAVE TO CALL THEM BACK BECAUSE I’M AT WORK, THEY HAVE TO WAIT FOR ME TO CALL THEM!! I TOLD THEM I HAD TO CALL THEM BACK AND MY PHONE KEPT RINGING OVER AND OVER AGAIN!!” Well, I’m not listening to anyone who’s yelling at me so I raised my voice right back, “FIRST OF ALL, NEITHER OF THEM TOLD ME YOU SAID YOU HAD TO CALL THEM BACK; SECOND OF ALL, YOU WILL NOT SPEAK ABOUT YOUR CHILDREN THAT WAY.” Then I hung up the phone.

Zach, who’d been upstairs by then, came down asking if Daddy was yelling at me again; I told him ‘yes’ but not to worry about it. He called back but I didn’t answer so he left a message on the answering machine: “Nice move Beth.” What the fuck are you talking about, nimrod!? I’m not the one yelling where the kids can hear it. Stupid. I asked the kids to get ready for bed while I did the snack dishes. He called back, I answered and told him I didn’t want to speak to him after the way he’d yelled at me in front of the kids and that he’d have to call back tomorrow. He wanted to talk to the kids whom I told him he couldn’t do until he checked his attitude, and that he needed to apologize to them for yelling at me where they could hear it. Zach said, “I’ll talk to him and if he yells at me, I’ll yell back at him.” What I told Paul Zach said was, “Zach doesn’t want to talk to you because you yelled at me.” Dolly spoke to him for a minute, and then he got on the phone with Tyler where he proceeded to yell at this little boy demanding an apology for Tyler not telling me Paul said he’d call them back. Fuck that shit!! Who the fuck is he to demand an apology from an 8 year old when the child made an honest mistake; and who is he to berate the child for it? Again, FUCK THAT SHIT!!! How fucking dare you.

I sent the kids to bed, gave hugs and kisses and proceeded downstairs to call Ellen. I really wanted a cigarette badly, and almost went to a neighbor to get one, but I didn’t. Then, as I had the phone in my hand to call Ellen, Pete went walking by my door, just at the bottom of the stoop, yelling, “Fuck you!! You got a problem, FUCK YOU!!” I’ve already explained, in another post, about kids and that kind of language. My kids understand the grown-ups speak that way, and that it’s not nice, but when kids do it, my kids take liberty, as do other kids. So I walk to my screen door, open it just enough to step one foot out and look beyond the door to Pete and ask him to go home. I told him I didn’t want to hear his language and repeated that he should go home. He didn’t realize it was me speaking to him, and assumed it was a kid. As he turned to face me, the “F” was already formed on his lips. He saw me and stopped dead. I asked if he really wanted to say that to me, to which he responded, “I didn’t say it.” I told him I knew that and repeated my question, loudly. Then I repeated that he needed to go home.

Just then, my fucking nosey neighbor, the one who has no life and thinks she owns the cul-de-sac, stuck her head outside her door to see why I was yelling. I’d just closed my door and put my attention back on the phone to call Ellen when I did an about face and shouted out the door, “DOES ANYONE ELSE IN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD HAVE A FUCKING PROBLEM TONIGHT??!!” That did it; within seconds, she’d gone in to get a cigarette and return to her porch to see if the police were being called, I guess; and then her neighbor, another nosey barker, came running out to find out what was happening and then a third, equally nosey bitch joined the party. Although I was on the phone with Ellen by then (better to talk to here than to run to the gas station for smokes) relaying what had happened to get me so riled, every time I mentioned the neighbors and their nosey bullshit, I made sure I was standing right at my door speaking loud enough for them to hear me. They hung out there for a while waiting for something else to happen and then they all retired to their homes when the action just stopped. There wasn’t any action anyway. The whole thing started with my ex-shithead, Paul and him yelling at Tyler and me and thinking he had the right to speak to us that way.

Ty and I discussed it and I told him he’d done nothing wrong and his dad needs to understand that. I also told him that he can speak to his dad and say anything as long as it’s respectful and polite. So he and I had a nice chat about it; Ellen and I talked about it; I’m done with it for now, now that I’ve got it down on screen. I’m not going to let it ruin the great day we had, nor am I going to spend any more time dwelling on it. I just want his arrogant bullshit to stop once and for all. Ellen and I surmised that his show of aggression was to impress whatever new squeeze he’s got now. She must have been standing there somewhere because the only time he acts that way toward me is if he has an audience. FUCK HIM AND THE HORSE HE RODE IN ON!!!

I’m tired now, though, and want to get some sleep. I’ll tell more about the nosey fucking neighbor the next time I write. She’s a piece of work and needs a lot of space just for herself.

Until next time…peace to all.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Today is Thursday. Dolly is out of school until Tuesday. She attends part-day Headstart so she only goes Monday to Thursday. When she returns on Tuesday, it’ll be her last day of school. The boys will be off for the three-day weekend and will return to school on Tuesday and will attend half a day on Wednesday, their last day of school. I’ve enrolled the boys in summer school again this year because we’re still here. Summer school lasts a month, it’s free, and they each get a gift card if they attend every day. We’ve done it for the past three years and it’s great. It gives them something to do for a month so they’re not standing by my side saying, “There’s nothing to do.” Here’s my problem; summer school may or may not be cancelled this year because of the budget cuts.

I say ‘may or may not’ because the Government still hasn’t decided which way to go yet. Summer school is slated to start June 7th, a week from Monday. It would actually be starting this coming Wednesday but the kids had an extra week off during the Christmas break due to bad weather and they have to make it up now. Anyway, with summer school due to start in just over a week, wouldn’t you think the Government would inform the District whether the funding is available? I would. There are 1000s of children already enrolled and expecting to attend; and the District is continuing with plans as if summer school is a go. The Superintendent is setting up schedules, hiring staff, etc. and said he’ll continue moving forward until he gets word to halt preparations. When will he get that word; Sunday, June 6th?

What are the parents supposed to do in the meantime; sit and twiddle their thumbs? I won’t really run into a problem if they cancel since I don’t work. However, there are a lot of parents around here who do and are going to need to make alternate plans for their kids if there is no summer school. Granted, I won’t be happy if summer school is cancelled but there are a lot more parents who’ll be really angry. They’ll have to scramble at the last minute to find someone to watch their kids and will probably have to pay for it. The Boys and Girls Club charges $125 per kid just for the summer months – that’s all day, every day, Monday through Friday. Day care is beyond expensive, and babysitters cost too. Not to mention that signing kids up at this late date may cost extra – I’m not really sure.

What about families that made plans for vacations later in the summer going on the assumption that summer school is happening yet won’t be able to change their plans if summer school is a no-go? I’d be ticked at that. Summer school has been available here for years so I’m sure, to some, it’s a pain in the ass not knowing what’s up with what. My kids have only been going for three years and I know how I feel about not knowing.

On the flip side of that, say summer school isn’t cancelled. We still haven’t gotten bus information yet. I know approximately which corner it’ll be but the time hasn’t yet been set. Again, will they let us know Sunday before school starts? Does the Government understand that there are real, live people waiting to hear whether or not the summer school program will be cut? I think the members of the Government don’t really comprehend that fact. I think they think we’re all just a bunch of faceless numbers and addresses and they can take their time making a decision because no real people are being disturbed in any way. Quite honestly, if summer school is cancelled, regardless of when or how we are informed, it’ll just be one more reason for me to be ticked at the Government.

The Government is the reason I’m still living here and why I had to sign my kids up for summer school. I wasn’t planning to; I was planning on having to pack and move back to the East Coast. I can’t, though, because the Government won’t help me secure housing so my kids and I will have a place to live. So, not only can I not move right away like I wanted to, but my kids probably won’t have anything to do all summer, rather than just the last month of it. I’m so tired of having to wait on other people to decide what will happen with my life.

Everyone says, “Don’t give up; keep trying.” Keep trying what? I’ve done all I can do. There is nothing else I can do to move my life forward without getting permission from people who work for the Government; whether Federal or State. I, literally, have no other options than to wait. Whatever: I’m sick of waiting, I’m sick of complaining, I’m sick of being put on hold and having my life and the lives of my kids put on hold. There’s nothing I can do so I may as well just sit here and shut up about it all. Besides, I’m tired and I want my cold to go away for good. I’m going to bed.

Until next time…peace to all.

Learned Something New Today

Did you know that, if you teach your camera what white is before filming or taking pictures, it’ll get all the other colors right? That will only work if there is a white balance in your camera. I learned that yesterday from a news cameraman. I was giving that interview for the school district and, before we started shooting, he trained the camera on a very well lit piece of white paper for a few seconds. As I watched, he explained why. When I asked if it would work with stills, he said it should and mentioned the need for the white balance. That’s pretty cool information; I had no idea but will try it in the future. I just love learning new things.

I actually try to learn something new every day and I tell my kids they should also. When they were toddlers and just learning to talk, they’d do whatever and I’d tell them how smart they were. Then I’d ask, “How’d you get so smart.” I actually taught them to respond with, “I learn every day.” They will still answer that question with that same answer today. Learning every day is never a bad thing; how can it be? Today I actually learned that I should check the shoes inside the shoe box before I pay and take them home from Wal-Mart.

I had taken Dolly shopping with me today, after I cashed the insurance check that came in yesterday’s mail. We needed a lot of things so we just went to Wal-Mart. That wasn’t such a good idea on my part because I could spend my life in Wal-Mart. Just give me money and set me free. Anyway, all three kids needed shoes so I found some for each of the boys. I’d sized them the other day when their dad asked me for their sizes. Even though I’d sized Dolly, we used the Brannock device (that thing that you put your foot in to determine your shoe size) on her today, just to be sure. Good thing I did because she’s actually a 10 ½; I thought she was just a 10 based on the answers she gave to my questions the other day. So we find her a cute pair of sneakers, on sale (can’t beat that). I peep into the box to make sure the shoes we wanted were actually in there and I wouldn’t be taking home a pair of something completely different. We finish shopping, pay and go home.

We load all of our bags into the house and start sorting – upstairs bathroom, kitchen, my desk, boys’ shoes, my shoes, Dolly’s shoes. She decided she wanted to wear her new sandals today so we put them on her. Then I open the box with the sneakers and notice that they also light up at the heel. Too cool. I get the scissors to cut that annoying plastic string that connects the shoes together and, in the split second that I cut that string, I realize that the shoes are two different sizes – one’s a ten, the other an eleven. You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. Before Dolly can get upset I tell her I’ll just return them to the store when she gets on her bus for school. I ask her if she wants that pair or something different. “Something different. Can you get the princess ones?” Sure thing.

The problem was, I didn’t want to drive all the way back to Wal-Mart; it’s on the other side of town and it was fucking muggy today. Just walking outside was bad enough but to have to get in the car was almost torture. Whatever. Better I take the shoes back today than have to do it tomorrow. When Dolly got on the bus, I drove back to Wal-Mart and waited on line to return the shoes just so I could buy a correctly-matched pair. What was really funny was that there were five people on the return line in front of me and only one clerk working the counter. It was a laugh riot for me.

The lady ahead of the guy just ahead of me was returning a bunch of boy’s baby clothes. The clerk was chatting and asked if they just didn’t fit the baby. The lady said, “No, my sister-in-law was told she was having a boy so I bought boy stuff, but the baby is a girl; she didn’t find out until the baby got here.” Well DUH!! When else would you find out the baby’s sex if the sonogram was wrong? I guess you learned something new today, didn’t ya? Two things, in fact. Just because the sonogram says so, doesn’t make it so; and either buy neutrals or wait until the baby actually arrives before you rush out to buy an entire wardrobe for it. You go girl!!

Then the guy in front of me was exchanging a lawn mower – for the second time – because the back wheel kept falling off. The axle was plastic and the sales associate had told him that other people had already returned that same mower due to cracks in the plastic that made the wheel break off the mower. The kicker was that, not only did he actually buy it after being warned, but he kept exchanging it for the exact same model. When the associates asked him why, he said that Wal-Mart didn’t have a big variety so he was really stuck as far as what model he could purchase. Here’s an idea, dude; get your money back and go someplace else to get a better mower at the same price. Not only did you learn that some sales associates aren’t bullshitting you, but you also learned that you need to vary the places you shop. It’s called ‘shopping around’ if you don’t already know. Oh, that’s three new things you learned today.

Now I need to correct myself. Earlier I said that I learned to check the shoes inside the box before paying and taking them home. I actually learned two things; check the shoes and never go to Wal-Mart to return anything at lunchtime. That’s when everyone else goes. Although, if I go and just stand there, I might be able to point out to people the new thing they learned that day. Do you suppose Wal-Mart would pay me for that? They pay a guy to greet me at the door and hand me a buggy; I guess I could always ask. I could be the Wal-Mart “Hey stupid, here’s what you learned today” girl. I can dig it, can you? ;)

Until tomorrow…peace to all.

Let's Get a Move On

I have been sitting here for almost a half hour trying to figure out what I want to write about tonight. I know I don’t have to write every night but it does help relax me, except when I get writer’s block – like tonight. There are so many thing going through my head that I can’t really separate them. I’m thinking about the boy, Pete, from my post last night; the incident involving the police; the fact that, immediately after the police officer left his house, Pete’s grandfather came outside and started screaming at the mother of the little girl involved in the head banging incident as if she, and all the rest of us “bitches” as Grandpa called us, were scheming and out to get his precious grandson; the interview I gave for the school district as a school volunteer; watching my daughter’s class release the butterflies they grew; my aching elbow; my desire to move from this pit to a better location so I can work and make a life for my kids…I guess I’m just thinking about so much that I can’t focus on any one thing. Don’t ya just hate that?

That tells me that I won’t fall asleep as easily as I usually do because my mind will continue spinning in every imaginable direction. I’ll find something on TV that will help me relax, I’m sure. I’ll just look for something I’ve seen dozens of times; that’s sure to work. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about that now since I’m not close to going to bed. I am tired and it’s muggy as all get out in here but I’m not turning on the A/C yet. It’s not even summer and I refuse to begin upping my electric bill this early in the season. I didn’t run the A/C but for maybe a week last year. Fans worked for us and I have to keep the door open during the day while the kids are outside anyway. I just don’t like being sticky and feeling puffy; I can tell my hands and feet are swollen. Blech! Do you think if I stopped eating all these sunflower seeds I wouldn’t be so puffy? That might work, huh?

I’ve also go to get back to rebounding. I’ve stopped and I feel gross. I know I’ve been eating way too much and need to get back on the healthy track to take some of this weight off of me. Starting tomorrow that’s a must on my to-do list. Quite honestly, if I had something to do during the day I wouldn’t sit here snacking on nuts and seeds. Perhaps if the Universe would put the vibe out there that I need housing in MD, and perhaps if one of the places in MD called me with a vacancy, I could begin packing. Then I’d have lots to do during the day and the weight would just fall off – like magic. I’ve got enough packing to lose 20lbs, at least. Plus, I don’t mind packing and, if I do it myself, I can tell what is in each and every box in my house. I just want things to move forward a little more quickly than they are.

I’ve got my car tagged; that check I was awaiting finally arrived today; I’ve put my name on the only available housing waiting list in MD; and now I’m just waiting, waiting on them to call me back. I’ve called them once a month since I gave them my name and I’m tired of waiting now. I want that phone call and I want to begin packing my belongings. I want to have something fabulous to look forward to and I want my kids to be excited about this change for us. We all can’t do that, though, unless I get the housing. Is the Universe listening? Is the positive energy flowing once again? I can only do so much on my end; I’m putting out all the positive energy I can; the rest is up to the Universe. It’s not like I can bribe it or anything, I just have to wait, wait, wait, and hope my wait proves fruitful.

I was never one for a lot of patience when it came to waiting on adults or higher powers or whatever. I have patience with kids, to a point; if it’s something they should already know patience is a no-go. I still have trouble with patience. I put this move thing out to the Universe months ago, along with the car tagging issue. I just now got the car tagged. Does that mean I have to wait another three years before I’m going to get to move out of this State? I really hope not because I won’t be able to last here another year. I’ve got to get out of here, and back to the East Coast, and I have to do it this summer. So, everybody, all together now, on three…1, 2, 3…”Beth needs to move her kids to MD this summer to make a better life for them all. The Universe needs to help that move happen. Positive energy needs to be spread far and wide for this. Starting now, that energy is working where it should and Beth and her kids will be in MD before the next school year starts.” {Positive energy, positive energy, positive energy…} Thanks everyone, I appreciate the assistance.

Until tomorrow…peace to all.

Better Now Than Later

Today is one month that I have not had a cigarette. YEA!!! I’m so proud of me. I have been tempted, though; if you’ve read any of my other posts, you’ll know that already. I was actually wondering today, I think, what would happen if I just had one. Would that mean I’d become a smoker again? I don’t think it should, I mean, I know people that only smoke when they go out – social smokers. I never hear anyone complaining about them. Apparently it’s okay to only smoke once or twice a month as opposed to every day. Okay, and by that same logic would it be fair to tell a biker that it’s okay to go without his helmet once or twice a month? “Psht, why bother? There’s no guarantee that you’ll crash and need that helmet.” Am I suddenly turning into one of those people who quit smoking and decides to tout the benefits of quitting to every smoker I pass on the street? Fuck no; but I don’t think it’s fair for everyone to tell me how unhealthy it is yet leave the “social smokers” alone. “Well, he only smokes once a month; it’s not that bad.” If it’s okay for him, it should be okay for me, too, right? I’m just complaining; I’m not going to smoke occasionally just to prove I can. I may, however, buy stock in all the companies that sell sunflower seeds.

Enough of that, though. Yes, I’m proud, I’ve hit my one month anniversary, blah, blah, blah…I have more important things to talk about tonight. I wasn’t actually going to discuss this but it just happened a little while ago and I feel the need to analyze and rationalize. There’s a kid in my neighborhood, about 11 years old who can be a nice kid but he can also be a hateful bully; and potentially dangerous. I’ll call him Pete (name has been changed). Many of my neighbors and I have complained to this boys’ mother on numerous occasions trying to get her to do something about her son’s behavior. We’ll knock on the door, explain what happened, and see her call him in the house. Not ten minutes later he’s back outside as if nothing happened. The same thing occurred, a couple of weeks ago, after an incident where nobody was hurt, but the potential had been there.

He was outside playing with all the other kids and I heard on little girl yelling, “He pushed my head into the brick wall.” For some reason all the kids congregate at the side of my town home so I can hear everything, and I immediately went outside to find out what was happening. It turns out that Pete had taken this little girl and pushed her into the side of my home, which is brick, for whatever his reasons. I was examining her head when her mom appeared at the door of another neighbor’s home, she was inside just chatting, and she asked me if her daughter was okay. I said she was fine and I went over to speak with Pete’s mother. I told her what he’d done and suggested she keep him on their side of the street from now on since he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. I even told him he needed to stay off our side of the street. She called him in the house, and ten minutes later he was back outside. What the fuck; is there no discipline in that household?

This was not the first incident like this. He acted as if he was going to choke my daughter one time; he threw a rock at Zach’s head, he’s threatened other kids with physical violence, and he’s got a dirty mouth. Granted, we all know I’m not Mother Teresa when it comes to my language, but I never swear at my kids. I do swear in front of them but there are certain words I NEVER use. Aside from the fact that I’ve never flipped the bird in the presence of my children, the ever popular C*** word is one my kids have never heard me utter; and racial slurs never have a place in our home. That’s where tonight’s issue arose, but I must backpedal just for a second so you’ll understand why I did what I did.

After the brick wall incident, I spoke to the school principal. I know her; I spend a lot of time at the boys’ school volunteering and whatnot. I explained what had happened and she asked if any of us had ever called the police. This kid is 11 years old; who wants to call the police on a child? Nobody does, and I explained that to her. I told her I was speaking to her about it because I was hoping someone from the school could intervene on our behalf thus getting a bit of relief from Pete’s negative behavior. She said she’d do what she could but told me that the parents around her should really call the police when Pete starts something because they will be forced to take some sort of action. Okay, that’s what we’ll do. I relayed the message to all my neighbors who’ve had problems with Pete.

A few days after that I got a call from Children’s Services wanting to discuss the problems we’d been having with Pete in our neighborhood. I spoke with the woman a while and told her everything I could that the kids had told me and that I’d witnessed. She explained that a child like this has the potential to be very dangerous; especially to the younger kids in the neighborhood, and that we all need to call the police whenever Pete is causing problems. You got it; who am I to ignore the Department of Children’s Services? So now we’re up to speed.

I was sitting in the house tonight when my neighbor came over and said her son had just told her that Pete was outside calling another little boy a N*****. That don’t fly with me; my kids don’t even know what that word means. She and I walked back behind my row of town homes to locate our children and I asked Zach if he’d heard Pete use that word toward anyone. He said, “Yes, he called Mikey (changed name) that word.” It made my blood boil. Not only was Zach out there, but Dolly was also. How dare he use that word in front of my kids? It’s bad enough with another kid curses. My kids understand that adults use that language, but when another kid uses those words I have to explain to the other kid that they can’t speak like that, and then explain to my kids why they can’t use those words even though so-and-so uses them. What a headache.

Anyway, I asked Zach where Pete was and went hunting him. I found the Mikey, who, by the way, is black, and apologized to him on Pete’s behalf. Pete is white, if you hadn’t figured that out already. Nobody should ever be called that, especially a child. Then I found Pete and asked him to go home. I also told him that if he ever used that word in front of my kids again, I’d make sure his mother wasn’t allowed to let him outside ever again. Then I told him he’d better rush before I called the police. He said he’d already called them because a bunch of kids were trying to start a fight with him. Somehow, I find that a really hard to believe. Then I turned and walked to his house to speak to his mother.

I rang the bell and backed up off the stoop. She came to the door and I told her she needed to get Pete in the house because he’d just done so-and-so. I told her I didn’t like him speaking that way in front of my kids and that she needed to do something about it before I fixed it to where he wouldn’t be allowed outside anymore. She very calmly responded, “Don’t tell me how to raise my son.” I told her I wasn’t telling her how to raise her son, but I was telling her to get him in the house before he caused any more problems. Then my neighbor, the one who’d informed me of all of this, told Pete’s mom that she’d file a complaint against them with the management office, to which Pete’s mom lipped off a bit. Then my neighbor, who is black, retorted with a few choice words of her own.

Now, since I was told by DCS to call the police when Pete caused problems, I did. I called 911, let her know that it wasn’t an emergency but that DCS instructed me to call, blah, blah, blah. She took all the information and said she’d dispatch an officer. Pete’s mother saw me on the phone and realized I was calling the police so she hollered, “There, he’s in the house. You happy? He’s just a child for Christ’s sake.” I know he’s a child, that’s why I went to speak to her in the first place. Technically, I should’ve called 911 first but I wanted to give her the chance to do the right thing. Had she not argued with me, I may not have called.

Did I want to get this kid in trouble with the law, Hell no. The way I see it though, it’s better he get in trouble with the law now, while he’s still a child and can get the help he needs than to get in trouble five years from now when he’ll be old enough to go to jail with the big boys. Picture this: five years from now he’ll be 16. He’s out walking the streets and calls someone the “N” word and that person takes it wrong. Now Pete gets his ass beat and goes to jail on a hate crime charge where he may or may not end up getting his ass beat again, or worse. What’s his mom gonna say then? “He’s just a child, for Christ’s sake.” I don’t think so.

Do I feel bad for calling the police tonight? Yes, I do. Was I justified? I think I was. If it helps him now from a fate far worse later, then so be it. Some may agree; some may disagree. I stand by my decision.

Until tomorrow…peace to all.

That is Messed Up

When I was seven, I was walking my sister, who was five, home from school, as was my job. As we approached our apartment building, I had an increasing need to pee. We rushed as quickly as we could and, at our apartment door, I was doing the “hold it in” dance while I tried to fit the key hanging around my neck into the lock to get the door opened. My sister, in her five-year-old wisdom, tells me, “When I have to go really bad and don’t know if I’ll make it, I always say to myself, ‘My bladder is safe; my bladder is safe…’” I guess she thought that would help me. In my seven-year-old logic, though, I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why anyone would put so much concentration on their bladder knowing it could actually explode at any moment. Why would I keep reminding myself of my bladder when I was deliberately trying not to think about it until I got to the bathroom? Whatever, it didn’t work and I ended up wetting myself before I got to the toilet. Why did I tell you that story; because this is what is my fucked-up thought process.

Something happened the other night that reminded me of that story, but it would have sounded really odd if I’d told the more recent story first, so I started with the older one. I told you my thought process is fucked up. Okay, now you’re asking what happened the other night. Well, I’ll tell you; be patient. It was Wednesday night, I remember because that was the day I got my tags and I celebrated by having a couple of vodka/juices that night. I take a 24oz glass and fill it ¾ with ice, then I pour a shot of vodka over it, and cover it all with whatever juice I’ve made for the kids; then I stir and enjoy. I don’t get drunk, but I do get to chill. So, I drank these two drinks while I relaxed and blogged that night – usually I only sip on a glass of water – and then I went to bed. I peed and brushed my teeth before going, as usual. However, because I was drinking rather than sipping, I woke up at 12:35 a.m. needing to pee. Then it happened.

No, I did not wet myself. As I was putting my feet onto the floor, I was actually thinking, “Wow, I haven’t woken up needing to pee in a long time. No, wait, you don’t have to pee, you’re suffering from Full Bladder Syndrome.” Then I started laughing. What the fuck?! It’s the middle of the night, I’d been asleep for about and hour-and-a-half, and I wake up coining a politically-correct phrase and cracking myself up over it. I actually repeated it to myself on the way to the bathroom and then on the way back to bed, laughing the entire time. Who else wakes up in the middle of the night telling herself that she’s suffering from Full Bladder Syndrome? It can only be me, Queen of the Fucked-Up Thought Processes. That would be the correct phrase, though, right - Full Bladder Syndrome? I mean, with everything else being politically correct these days, we wouldn’t want to offend anyone by actually insinuating that he or she had to pee, now would we? Gosh no.

Since we’re going to do that, let’s just change pooping to Rectal Evacuation Syndrome. Everything is a syndrome now, right? I think from now on I’ll correct my kids on these terms. The next time Dolly says she’s got hiccups, I’ll tell her she’s suffering from Mild Diaphragm Inversion. When the boys tell me they’re hungry, I’ll tell them they’ve got a Negative Nutrition Flow. That’ll really screw them up, won’t it? When I was younger, like in my late teens, early twenties, I always said that, when I had kids, I wanted to mess with their heads. Rather than speaking to them like any other parent would, I wanted to speak to them in Pig Latin or Gibberish – all the time. How cool would that be, huh? I also wanted to call thing by the wrong name to them; like, I’d call a chair a shoe and I’d call a couch a sink; that kind of thing. Obviously I didn’t do that but I wonder what would’ve happened if I had.

I don’t think it should really matter, do you? The English language is fucked up enough as it is, and, the way people talk today, I don’t think that anyone would have actually noticed if my kids were a little different. I mean, who came up with some of the stupid words we have and why do they have multiple definitions? Why is the basin in which we wash dishes called a sink, yet something that falls to the bottom of a body of water is said to sink? Some of my dishes actually float so I’m not getting the connection, if there is one. I think ‘sink’ is a stupid word, anyway. Onomatopoeia, however, is a really cool word; it’s actually my favorite word.

In case you don’t know, onomatopoeia means, “a word that sounds like what it is.” For instance, boing, ding dong, and murmur are all onomatopoeic words. Understand? It’s the word of a sound: oink, bark, buzz… See why it’s such a cool word? It’s bubbly and fun; and it makes you think of silly sounds and words you might never have thought of otherwise. ‘Sink’, on the other hand, is just dull, lifeless, and negative. When something sinks it goes to the bottom; and nobody ever has fun washing dishes in the sink. Just hearing that word makes me groan (See: onomatopoeia :-D). “Mom, I put my dish in the sink.” Great, now I have more work to do. There’s just no fun in that; not the chore or the word. So the next time you’re down in the dumps, or someone is making you crazy, or you’re stressed, spend some time thinking of onomatopoeic words and see if your mood doesn’t change. I bet it will. I mean, honestly, who can be grumpy while sitting in a chair, thinking, “Ribbit, boing, rattle, buzz, gasp”? Nobody, that’s who; and while you’re it, see how angry you can stay while yelling at your kid, “It’s your job to clean the poop out of the litter boxes.” The word ‘poop’ will take the anger right out of you.

And that, my friends, is a minor example of my fucked-up thought process. Imagine I gave an example of a major one. :-D Until tomorrow…peace to all.

Almost Gave in to the Smoking Urge

Why is it, that when my nerves are completely shot, I want a cigarette the most? I was having a perfectly good day – I’d spoken to Ellen on the phone, I’d cleaned my van (inside not out; it was raining), I’d chatted with a neighbor and I’d attended PACT. I was really in a great mood, until Zach spoke. He’d decided he didn’t want to go to PACT tonight and asked if he could stay with a neighbor while the rest of us went. I agreed, although I wasn’t happy about it. He stayed; Ty, Dolly and I went. We got home a little after 8:00 and Dolly went over to get him from the neighbor’s house. I went over and thanked her as Zach came out onto the porch and sat to put on his shoes. Then he got up and headed home without so much as a “good-bye,” “thanks for watching me,” nothing, to the neighbor. She came to the door and said goodnight to him but had already closed her door when he said anything back to her. All I said was, “Zach, that wasn’t very nice,” and you would’ve thought I pushed the button for WWIII.

He came into the house exploding and just let fly on me. Now, I don’t generally scream at my kids but he had me so angry I was screaming at him. I really was, and I didn’t like it. He was being mean, hateful, disrespectful – REALLY DISRESPECTFUL – and I couldn’t stand it anymore. Zach actually got to the point that he said he wished I was dead. I told him he needed to leave the room and go onto Dolly’s room for the night. She was sleeping in my room so it was only fair that he go sleep somewhere by himself. When he realized I was serious, he freaked out over it; not because he was angry, but because he was scared. He didn’t want to sleep along without the TV. Oh, too bad, so sad. Perhaps he should’ve thought of that before he got so mean and nasty to me. So, instead, he sat at the top of the stairs; he was calming down, I guess.

Then he came down, sat on the sofa, and tried to talk nicely to me. I asked him if he really didn’t want around because I could make arrangements for him to go live somewhere else. He declined saying he wanted to stay here because, if he left, he wouldn’t get any hugs and kisses, and nobody would love him and he wouldn’t get his homework signed. That tells me he knows I love him; I was still angry at him for all the other mean things he’d said just minutes before. Then he tried to hug and kiss me, but I didn’t reciprocate, nor did I accept his apology. I told him that apologizing means that you feel bad for what you did and you’ll try not to do it again. (I’ve told him that constantly since he was born.) I also told him that I’m tired of him saying “I’m sorry” and thinking it’ll make everything better between us. I told him I won’t accept any more apologies from him until his actions show me that he really is sorry. The words just don’t mean anything to me anymore.

Then I told him that I’d quit smoking because I wanted to be healthy so that I could be with them for a very long time, but that I didn’t think it was fair for him to say he wished I was dead. I even told him that he had me so angry that I wanted to go buy a pack of cigarettes but that I would try not to do it. He just looked at me, feeling sorry, I’m sure, and started to say something. I cut him off and told him I didn’t really want to talk to him right then because I was angry at what he’d said. He just took his snack and went upstairs with it. I was actually thicslose to actually going out to buy cigarettes. I was thinking, “Fuck it; if he wants me dead, I may as well go out doing something I enjoy.” Then I got really annoyed because, if I couldn’t have cigarettes, I wanted a really yummy snack and I didn’t have any in the house. All I bought last time out to the supermarket was healthy stuff. The kids are having a hard time controlling themselves with the snacks so I only bought fruits, veggies, fruit snacks, rice chips, and stuff like that. I didn’t even have a fucking Hershey’s Kiss in the house to take the edge off of whatever was going on inside of my brain and body.

I got over the craving, though; I pulled out my bag of sunflower seeds and started munching away. There is no comparison to chocolate but at least they’re giving me something to chew on. Maybe I can buy rolling papers and smoke my sunflower seeds. I’ll get all the health benefits ingested that way, right? It’ll be much quicker too, no digestion needed. I just want to know how long this is going to continue; not Zach’s attitude, but the fucking cigarette cravings every time I’m really angry. Grrrr….. I’ll get over it, I’m sure. WHEN?????

On a lighter note, I’ve decided to name my van Morrison. It’s catchy, dontcha think? Morrison got a really good internal cleaning today – no more donuts, candy wrappers, errant toys, and whatever else I pulled from under the seats. I also used the shop vac to vacuum him and I cleaned all the windows inside and out, as well as the dashboard. He gets to be a permanent part of the family now so he deserved a really good bath. Maybe over the weekend he’ll get to go to the carwash. Right now, though, I have to go and and refill my sunflower seed dish so I can watch “Same Time Next Year” on OnDemand. My friend Al wants me to watch it and I promised I would. Until tomorrow…peace to all.

What a Wonderful Day

My life is great, it really is; and I’m grateful for everything I’ve got. I know that, if it wasn’t for the Universal energy, the Angels, my guide and my spectacular friends, I wouldn’t be where I am today. My family has helped me some, but not as much as my friends. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but none of us were every really close. We don’t have that “Family comes first” credo that a lot of other families have. I’m actually closer to my friends than I am to my family; and I’ve never even met three of my closest friends. (Ellen, Tracy, Connie, you all know who you are. {wink, wink}) One friend, in particular shone through this week, and I had a fabulous day today because of her.

You remember that, in my last post, I mentioned that I’d gotten a call from Stacy about getting my van tagged. Well, she called and asked me if I would accept her help; she was offering me the money to get the van registered and actually asked my permission. That was amazing to me. I told her that the check I was awaiting would be here any day but she explained that she knew what I felt like driving around wondering if I’d get pulled over for some reason, and getting cranky but the kids not understanding why I was cranky and then getting cranky with them. She was right on all accounts; but there was also the driving back streets, trying to stay off of main roads; driving only at night when I could, just to stay off the virtual radar of the police. It was nerve-wracking, especially when an officer was next to or right behind me. I’d sit at a light, or continue driving, with my heart pounding in my chest, wondering just when he’d hit his lights. Luckily for me, the three years I drove without tags, I never got stopped. For that I thank the Angels who gave the officers something else to look at other than my expired temp tag.

Anyway, Stacy offered me the money and I accepted. If she was willing to help, I wasn’t going to turn down the offer. I explained that I had to get the van inspected first, and then I could go to the DMV to get the plates. She said that was fine and that she’d pick me up around 9:00 this morning. I thanked her and hung up. Then a HUGE wave of relieve flooded me and I burst into tears. I had to call Ellen and share the news. I called her at home; nothing but the answering machine. Fuddrucker!!! I called her on her cell and she answered. She and her son had just left the house to do some errands. I told her about my phone call from Stacy and she thought it was just wonderful. She was going to help me out a few weeks before but she just couldn’t; and I understand that. We’re in the same place financially. Then Ellen asked me if I was crying and I squeaked out a “yes” to which she laughed pleasantly saying, “Tears of joy.” No doubt in my mind about that – joy and relief.

Now, Stacy was initially going to drive me to get the tags but, when she realized I still needed the inspection so I’d have to drive anyway, she dropped off the money to me and let me do what I had to do. I immediately made the inspection appointment for 8:00 this morning figuring I’d be at the DMV 45 minutes after they opened. Inspections don’t take that long, and I wanted to be at the DMV early because Dolly was going with me and she still had to be in school later in the morning. I finished my day in a floaty fog, just amazed at the generosity of my friends: Tracy, who did my taxes and wouldn’t charge me; Ellen who, aside from being my sounding board, has sent me money when I’ve needed it and even bought clothing for my kids; and now Stacy, with her wonderful gesture. How lucky am I to have such terrific people in my life? I was really happy when I went to sleep last night.

This morning I got up, got myself ready, helped Dolly get dressed, and then we walked the boys to school. Once we got back home, we made her some chocolate milk, poured some dry honey-nut Cheerio-like cereal in to a bowl, grabbed my DMV paperwork and were out the door. I was at the service station by quarter-of-eight and they had me out of there by 8:20, with a minivan that passed inspection. WOO HOO!! I was on my way. Dolly and I headed to the other side of town to the DMV where we discovered that the office doesn’t open until 9:00 as was posted on the web site. Apparently the DMV offices over here are independently owned and operated (sub-contracted out by the State) so they can set their own hours. The time difference was better for me because there were four people standing outside the door when I arrived and another 12 or so showed up within minutes after I arrived. Cool.

The doors opened and one of the employees gave us all our numbers by working the customer computer thingy for us rather than waiting for us to try to figure it out for ourselves. They’ve to this computer console now where you have to punch in why you’re there so it can spit out the correct number for you. If you’re doing something associated with a license, you’re on one side; anything to do with a motor vehicle and you’re on the other side. I haven’t been at the DMV in over three years so this is all new to me. Anyway, I was number A4, not bad at all. Dolly and I went and sat down in the waiting chairs as the first three people walked up to the “windows” to which they were summoned. Even that’s new. There is no longer a counter that reaches above the head of anyone over 5’ 5”, where you’d get a cramp in your leg after standing on your toes to see the clerk if you had more than five minutes worth of business. Now it’s one long counter, divided into individual work stations by the placement of the computers. There are also chairs for the customers to sit in while they’re conducting their business.

After about five minutes of waiting I heard a computer voice say, “Now serving number A4 at DMV window number six;” and a huge computer screen, it looked like the jumbo-tron in a sports stadium, showed each number being served and at which window, and on which side. Go figure. So I walked up to my window, handed the girl my paperwork and sat down. She just went about the business of going through my paperwork, checking my inspection and insurance cards, and filling out the title paperwork in the computer. Within fifteen minutes, she gave me back my copies of everything, along with my brand, shiny new license plates. I almost started to cry right there. Dolly and I wished her a great day and walked to the parking lot. I opened the van, took out the screwdriver I’d brought with me and installed my new plates on my van. After three long years of fighting and filing complaints, I finally had legal tags on my minivan!!!! I took a picture right there and emailed it to Ellen. (I’d texted her earlier after I passed inspection and was waiting for the DMV to open its doors.) I couldn’t believe it and the relief that ran through me was amazing.

I can finally drive the streets without the worrying and hiding. I was so excited I went home and posted a video of myself on Facebook doing a happy dance. It was great. I also took the kids to Wendy’s for dinner. It’s my favorite fast food place but I haven’t been there in almost three years because it’s across town. Now that I can travel in the daylight and can take main roads without getting tense, I just had to go there. We had a great time, and I’m still in a fabulous mood. I can’t thank Stacy enough for what she did for me. When I get that check I’m waiting for, I’ll make sure she’s paid back her money, but to have one less thing to worry about right now means the world to me. Stacy, I said it before, and I’ll say it again, your generosity knows no bounds. You’re an awesome person and I’m grateful to have you as a friend. Thank you so much for you wonderful gesture. You don’t know what it means to me, nor do I have the words to express it.

Until tomorrow…peace to all.

Signs

I changed my mind; I’m not going to discuss my thought process tonight. I’m going to talk about signs. Not street signs or billboard signs; signs like “Oo, there was a reason I ran into Susie, today. It was a sign.” I don’t believe in coincidence, I don’t believe in fate, I do believe in ghosts (“I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks, I do, I do, I do…), I do believe in angels, and I do believe in signs. I also believe in a universal energy and that what we put out into the Universe is what we get back. Think positively, act positively, surround yourself with positive people, put out positive energy, good things will happen to you; the same goes for negativity.

I’ve mentioned previously that I’m trying to move my kids and me to the DC metro area this summer so I’ll have better opportunity for work. I’ll also be closer to Ellen, who is going to work with me, and I’ll be closer to my Long Island friends. The kids will also be closer to their dad so they’ll be able to visit with him more often that once every couple of years. I’ve been trying to focus my energy to that move so that it’s unfolding in front of me and will come to fruition. I’ve also been asking for signs from the Universe that I’ll be making this move.

I know that everyone says that you have to look closely for the signs or you’ll miss them; but that’s a load of hooey if you ask me. I believe that you can ask for signs, big billboard type signs, and actually get them. How do I know? That’s what I demand, and that’s what I get. Back in March I was asking for signs, not some little bitty ‘oo a feather blew by my nose that must be a sign’ sign; but big, giant, easily recognizable signs here in the physical world. I was asking for them, I just wasn’t getting them, so I thought, anyway.

One day, during “Read Across America Week” I went to the boys’ school to read to Ty’s class. Since it was Dr. Seuss’ birthday, we had to pick on of his books. I picked, “Oh, The Places You’ll Go” because I love that book. It sends an awesome message to anyone who reads it. When I got home and told Ellen what I’d read, she thought it was funny (strange, not ha-ha) that I’d picked that book because a couple of people on a website message board she frequents had quoted from that book recently. Then Tyler checked it out of the school library. There’s a pattern here. See it?

A couple of days after the book incidents I was on the phone with Ellen, and we were discussing my move to MD. The only place that has allowed me to put my name on the waiting list (It’s HUD-subsidized housing.) is a place in Columbia, MD. It’s about an hour away from Ellen, not exactly ideal in distance, but if that’s what has to be for the time being, then so be it. Anyway, we were talking about other places that this one management company had available and most of them were in Columbia. As we were talking, I realized something. We were talking about Columbia. Yea, so, get to the point.

Well, a few days before that I’d been complaining that I was smelling coffee in my house. I don’t drink coffee, I don’t have any coffee in my house, and I don’t have a coffee maker. I was smelling coffee. Smack in the head, now. From where do we get coffee? Colombia. A day or two before the conversation with Ellen, a friend of mine that I’ve known for 20 years but hadn’t heard from recently suddenly wrote on my Facebook wall, just to say ‘hello’. His name is Al, and he was born in Colombia, South America. Then, biggest one of all – I was born in Columbia, MO. See the theme here? I do.

I’d also had a dream of Ellen and me meeting the President. It was a seriously fucked up dream where we met him, the First Lady and the Bidens in limousines outside on the street in front of my aunt’s house. While she chatted with them, I dusted off their limousine to get rid of the pollen. During a previous conversation, Ellen and I had a discussion of how we could become personal advisors to the President on such issues as single parent households and domestic violence relationships. That’s where I thought the dream was originating. However, in the dream, and this is what makes it really fucked up, I got a marriage proposal from John Mellencamp, of all people, that I was going to accept. Yep, it’s funny, you can laugh; Ellen and I did. I still didn’t put two and two together, though. Not until the next night. My friend Joe and I were on the phone just bullshitting and I was watching the movie, “My Fellow Americans.” It’s a comedy starring Jack Lemmon and James Garner as two ex-presidents who are trying to find out who framed them for a crime they didn’t commit. Plot aside, though, I wasn’t really paying attention to it because I’d seen it umpteen times already. I didn’t pay attention until, right in the middle of the movie, the song “Pink Houses” by John Mellencamp began playing. I actually screamed in Joe’s ear.

Okay, Columbia (coffee, Al, my birthplace) is where I’m trying to move. It’s also close to the DC area, where the White House is and where Ellen and I said we would end up working (the Presidential dream and the movie about Presidents). I still haven’t figured out what John Mellencamp has to do with anything unless the song was just put in place to get me to notice the movie and the connection of signs. I’ll have to check into that later, but for now, when I realized how all the signs fit together it was like I could feel the Angels sigh with relief, “Oh thank Heaven, she finally got it.” Ellen and I surmise that I will be making this move to the DC area. My post on Facebook that next morning was, “Dr. Seuss, Columbia, presidents and vice presidents, little pink houses...signs, signs, everywhere there's signs...” Now you’re asking, “What does all of this gibberish have to do with today or tonight?” Well, I’ll tell you.

I think I’m concentrating on too much at once and the Universe is trying to tell me to slow down, one thing at a time. First and foremost, I have to get my van tagged. I bought it three years ago and it still isn’t tagged (very long story for another time). Lately, I’ve been asking for everything to come together for me so I can get this move made before the next school year starts. The only thing that’s been happening, though, is that I’m getting the money to tag my van. I’ve mentioned this before – my (unexpected) tax return money paid the sales tax; I sold my bedroom set to pay my property taxes; and am waiting for a check to come in so I can go to the DMV to finalize the registration. I’m not complaining about this great stuff happening, just pointing out that it’s the only stuff happening.

Anyway, the check for the reggie hasn’t come in yet, but I woke up this morning with the song “Halfway There” by Big Time Rush, from the Nickelodeon show of the same name, running through my head. I’ve seen the show so I know the song, but to wake up with it playing non-stop in my brain was just annoying. After a while I was kinda diggin’ it, though, because I figured it had to be there for a reason. I don’t believe in coincidence, remember? So, I’m going through my daily routine and I get an out-of-the-blue phone call from my friend Stacy. A great phone call that had me in tears, about getting my van tagged. I’ll leave those details for tomorrow. I figure the song was in my head to tell me that things are still flowing and that now I’m “Halfway There” to making my move. (I also had a fucked up dream last night that I bought a used WII from actress Ellen Greene – but I’m not sure what that has to do with anything unless the name ‘Ellen’ was the point.) My horoscope today even said that I had to let the positive energy flow or I’d be closed to whatever opportunity was presented to me this afternoon. Stacy’s call came in the morning so I’m not sure that was the opportunity, but it could’ve been; it was a great opportunity.

Tonight when I go to bed, I’m going to thank the Universe, the Angels, and my guide for everything I’ve got to this point (I do every night anyway); I am extremely grateful for all of it. Perhaps tomorrow, when I ask for my signs, I’ll be able to get the date I should start packing my belongings. We’ll see, but I can feel the positive energy swirling around me now; and it’s picking up speed. I’ll fill in any missing details or add anything that might seem important in my next post. Until tomorrow…peace to all.

Sick Children

Before I say anything else, I have to say thanks to Tracy. I really had no idea that nuts were as healthy as I just read. I was looking at the fat content on the containers and thinking that I was really overeating. The recommended serving size on my bag of sunflower seeds says ¾ cup of seeds in the shell. I only eat a ½ cup at a time so I figured I was doing okay but sometimes eating two to three servings a day was making me think I was overdoing it. Then I read your comments on my last post and looked up the health benefits of nuts and sunflower seeds. I actually danced a little jig to the kitchen to get my measuring cup and my ashtray. I keep the bag of seeds by my desk for easy access; I pour them into the measuring cup so I know I’m only getting a ½ cup; and I use my ashtray, the one I carried around the house with me when I was smoking, to hold the empty sunflower shells after I’ve eaten the seed and sucked off all the salt. Thanks to Tracy’s info, I can now snack guilt free. I’m going to ask the WIC chick tomorrow if nuts are as healthy for kids as they are for adults. That is, if I make it to WIC.

Yesterday morning, at around 6:00, I woke up because I heard Zach burping in his sleep. He was sleeping in my bed so it wasn’t hard to detect. I pushed on his shoulder and told him to go to the bathroom. He claimed he didn’t need to but I forced the issue. “If you throw up in my bed, I’m going to be very upset. GO!! NOW!!” He did and he threw up just as he reached the toilet. Whew!! That was the only time during the day or night that he got sick. He did spend most of the day on the sofa, sleeping off and on, and barely eating. He even tried the, “I don’t want to go to school tomorrow” trick on me, but I told him that, since he threw up at 6 a.m., if he didn’t throw up again by 6 a.m. today, he was going to school. That’s the school district’s 24-hour rule. Zach went to school today.

This evening, I made the kids pizza for dinner and, as usual, Dolly was in a rush to get back outside to play. She ate a couple of bites of pizza and then asked to be excused from the table. I made it really clear that she would not be eating any bedtime snack and that any hunger pangs would have to wait until breakfast if she chose not to eat her dinner. She agreed and went out to find her friends. A while later she came in saying her stomach hurt, and I told her it was probably because she didn’t eat her dinner. She had a little juice and went on her way. They all came in, got ready for bed, and I went about the business of bouncing and decided to call Ellen while I did so.

While I was bouncing, Dolly came downstairs to interrupt, as is par for the course when I’m on the phone. She said she’d thrown up in the upstairs bathroom toilet but had flushed it. Since Zach was in that bathroom, I figured she hadn’t thrown up and sent her back to bed. I also told her to get the throw-up pan just in case she felt like she was going to get sick. That was basically to make her feel better and to give her a little attention. She got the pan and went back to bed. I finished bouncing and was just finishing up a small snack when I heard Dolly chucking in my bed. (That’s a word I use to describe the sound that is worse than gagging but not yet vomiting. We all know what it is.) I was on my way up the stairs when Zach yelled out that Dolly was going to throw up in my bed. I grabbed her under her arms and sat her on the floor in front of the pan, where she commenced getting sick. Ellen decided to let me go into Mommy mode and we hung up the phone. It takes something like that to get us to hang up; we’d already said, three times, I think, that we were going to hang up for the night and then continued talking.

In any case, Dolly finished and I put her back in bed with the pan on the floor next to her. She immediately fell asleep but I gave Zach instructions to get her off the bed if she started hiccupping or chucking and I didn’t make it there in time to help before she got sick. He agreed; he’s such a good big brother. Since Zach only got sick the one time, I’m hoping it’ll be the same with Dolly. She can’t go to school because of the 24-hour rule, but I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow so she’ll have to be with me. I really need to make it to the WIC appointment; and our Caring Communities meeting is at the boys’ school at 5:30. I also need to run to Dollar General and I have to get some laundry done. The laundry I do here, of course, but it’ll be tough with her needing my assistance. I’ll get it all done, I’m not worried. I just hope she feels better soon. They’ve only got until June 2 until school is finished for the year and I really don’t want them missing days now. I’m sure she’ll only be out tomorrow and will probably be asking to go outside to play later in the afternoon. Those are kids for you.

You know what’s really funny? This isn’t what I was going to write about tonight. Quite honestly, I have no idea what I was going to write about tonight; I started by thanking Tracy and just kept on going. Imagine that. I have an odd thought process, dontcha know. Maybe that can be the topic for my next entry. I’ll write that down on my to-do list so I won’t forget. Until tomorrow…peace to all.

Three Weeks; Craving Gone

I think the craving from yesterday is gone today. I haven’t really wanted a cigarette at all today, but I did overeat, I think. I said last night that I was going to get this craving bullshit out of my system and I did, for the most part. After the big bowl of ice cream last night, I spent today eating every so often and probably more than I should. I don’t know that I really did overeat but I feel like I did. I ate part of a bowl of corn flakes that Dolly didn’t want to finish, but that was about a ¼ of a bowl. After the kids I was babysitting went home, I poured myself a bowl of raisin bran. That was it until the middle of the afternoon. Zach woke up with an upset stomach today so I didn’t get as much sleep as I would have liked during the night, so I tried to nap for a little while.

Since he was sleeping on the sofa, off and on, I sat on the other end and dozed occasionally. Then I just got frustrated because I couldn’t get a solid nap. Every time I’d get into a real sleep, one of the kids would start talking to me. So I went to the computer and started munching on sunflower seeds while I played games on pogo. I got the kind in the shell so I won’t eat as many but I still eat them constantly, and they’re fatty. I know I ate more sunflower seeds than was really necessary.

For dinner I made nachos. I love nachos and am on a quest for the perfect restaurant nachos. I make them at home at least once a month and I put everything on them that I can. My plate will be full of chips, meat, refried beans, cheese, salsa, sour cream, guacamole, black olives and jalapeno pepper slices; and I will eat the entire plate of food until there is nothing left but nacho residue. That I know I ate too much of but it was worth it. Then, after dinner, I watched TV with the kids for a while and, when I went back to the computer, I went back to the sunflower seeds. About an hour ago, 9:00 to be exact, I knew all the kids were awake so I invited them downstairs with me to have a bowl of ice cream with chocolate syrup. It was a nice surprise for them and something for me to get the salt from the seeds out of my taste buds.

Tomorrow I’m going back to the eating properly/exercising routine I was on until this past week. I don’t know what happened other than I got my period and I was completely drained of any energy for most of the week. Blech!!! Don’t they have a machine at the doctor’s office that can just zap that away once and for all? I’ve got three kids, I’m not in a relationship, and, even if I were, there are no more kids in my future. Let me just be done with it so I can get on with life and have one less thing to deal with every month. Maybe some day they will, but for now I’ll just deal with it. The older I get, the worse it gets so I’m not really diggin’ it.

Once I get back on track with my eating and exercising I’ll feel much better. I’m actually feeling more energized today, and I know it’ll be even better tomorrow. I’ve also hit the three-week mark with no cigarettes. I wonder if I’ll have one of those massive cravings right before any “anniversary” of my quitting. That’ll really suck if it does happen. I don’t want to go through that every week, or every month, or every whatever. Just let it go already and be done with it. I’ve quit, I’m officially a non-smoker and I’ll remain that way.

The way I see it, when I decided to blog about it, I was putting myself out there for all to see. If I had just told my friends I was quitting, the way I did the week before I began blogging, it would have just been them that knew about it and, although they would have supported me in quitting, they would also have understood when I wanted to go back to it; which is exactly what happened. Since I decided to blog about it, and knew that any number of people could be reading what I wrote, I was less likely to wimp out and buy a pack of smokes. I didn’t want to read any comments from complete strangers telling me what a wuss I was for caving, and that I should have more willpower. Not that I really expected the world to be reading what I wrote, but the image is there that it is a possibility; and it is that image that has kept me on track so far. I just hope it doesn’t have to be this way forever.

Imagine me in 40 years, I’ll be nearly 83 and still blogging about having cravings to smoke. I won’t go buy any because I still won’t want non-existent strangers to judge or criticize me. My kids will be telling me to just give it up because it’s only Tracy, Ellen, and Stacy reading my stuff, but I’ll keep plugging away at it. My reader friends will be around my age, and we’ll all have those screens attached to our computers so the lettering appears larger than it really is because our eyesight will not be what it is today. Instead of me taking an hour or less to write each post, it’ll take me most of the day because the arthritis in my hands will affect me; and it’ll take my readers a while to read them because sitting in a chair for too long will be hindered by their lower back pain. Regardless, I’ll keep blogging, my friends will keep reading, and occasionally commenting, and life will be good.

For now, my craving to smoke is gone, my stomach is bloated from eating more than I should have, I have very little on my to-do list for tomorrow, and I’m tired but not exhausted. That’s as it should be. Until tomorrow…peace to all.

CRAVING!!

I don’t know where this came from, and I don’t know why, but I have been craving a cigarette so bad today that I almost can’t stand it. I woke up feeling that way. I came downstairs this morning and waited for the kids to get out of bed so the boys could clean their room. First I had them eat breakfast so there wouldn’t be any “I’m hungry and I need to stop and eat” breaks; then we went upstairs to being the job of cleaning. I’m watching a friend’s kids (two of them, anyway) until tomorrow morning and they were supposed to arrive around 10:00 this morning. Since Zach’s birthday was yesterday I didn’t force the bedroom cleaning issue but I wanted it done today before the two extra kids got here.

The room was messier than I thought it was because there was stuff pushed way back under the dressers that shouldn’t have been there. Needless to say, the boys lied last week when they told me they’d cleaned their room because all they did was push the stuff out of sight. Most kids do, but with the new discipline technique we’re trying I figured they’d do the right thing, for the first week, at least. I was wrong and I really hate, and I don’t use that word often, lying. They lied to me about cleaning their room so now they’re going to get two consequences – one for not cleaning the room and one for lying about it. Why don’t they get it? I’ve explained it so many times it should be visibly hanging in the air already. Lying is the absolute worst to me (other than abuse of any kind) because it encompasses so many other things at the same time. I just can’t handle lying in any form. But I am off track again. See what craving a cigarette does to me?

I woke up feeling like I wanted to light up but, of course, I don’t have any cigarettes. I could have gone out and bought some but I didn’t. I’ve got a little under $5 in the bank right now and that has to last me until Friday. Well, that’s what I was thinking this morning when I wanted that first-thing-in-the-morning smoke. So I just went about my business telling myself that I don’t really want one and that I’m stronger than a cigarette. Then the bedroom incident took place and that just strengthened my craving. Grrr….. Still, I didn’t go get any cigs, I just did whatever else I had to do around the house.

Then my friend dropped off her kids and the money she was paying me to watch them. Well, now I could go get a pack of cigs if I really wanted them, I had $20 in my pocket. I didn’t go; I talked myself out of it. But then I got really hungry. I ate a healthy snack. I played Scrabble on pogo.com. I painted my nails; I don’t usually do that but I’d painted Dolly’s earlier in the morning and the polish was still down here so, what the Hell. I did it. Then I read my new Reader’s Digest. While I was reading Ty, Zach and my friend’s kid went to the boys’ room to watch TV – something they weren’t supposed to be doing but at least it kept them from bugging me for a while. Dolly lay down on the sofa and fell asleep, and then I started to doze. I barely got in a few minutes of a nap when Zach came downstairs asking me what we were having for dinner. It was 3:30 in the afternoon for shit’s sake. Why would I even be thinking about dinner at that point? He left and I dozed again.

At 4:10 I woke up because I sensed Dolly waking up so that was the end of my nap because she was asking about dinner. What the fuck!!?? What’s the big deal about dinner when it isn’t even dinner time? Fine, I told them we’d have mac & cheese. Zach didn’t want mac & cheese because we always have mac & cheese when the other kids eat dinner with us. Gee Zach, what else is there to make that will feed five kids, when a couple of them never stop eating? Maybe hot dogs? Yea, fine, we can have hot dogs but they’ll all be gone tonight and I won’t be buying any for about three more weeks. He said that was fine. I still wanted a cigarette. I really wanted a cigarette now that they were getting on my nerves again. I didn’t have one.

I made dinner a while later and all the kids were happy. I was too because I got to eat. Since I didn’t have my cigarette, though, and because I’d indulged in some not-so-healthy foods over the past couple of days, I treated myself, again, to a you-really-shouldn’t-be-eating-this dinner. The kids had regular hot dogs and I had two, not one, but two, ¼-pound beef hot dogs, both with chili on them. Fuck it, if I can’t smoke today, I’m going to eat, and if you don’t like it, I don’t care. For whatever the reasons of the Universe, I was forced to live with this fucking cigarette craving all day and I’ve still got it. I still want a cigarette and I’ve been up since 7:15 this morning and it’s 10:20 at night now. How many hours is that? {me counting} That’s around 15 hours, right? Cravings aren’t supposed to last that long are they? I don’t know and I don’t care. I just want it to go away.

On Monday I’ll go back to the exercising and eating properly but since the Universe decided to make me feel this way all day long, fuck it. I’m going to eat what I want for today and tomorrow and nobody is going to stop me. Matter of fact, after I finish this blog entry I’m going into the kitchen to get me a big heaping bowl of the chocolate swirl ice cream I bought for Zach’s birthday yesterday. It’s the kind in the big plastic tub. I’m going to fill my bowl with it and then cover it with chocolate syrup. Then I’m going to sit on the sofa and watch TV while I eat my ice cream; and I’m going to savor every bite. I may even let it melt a little bit so I can stir it all up until it’s nice and creamy and so chocolate-y that it would make most people sick. I’m gonna do it because I can. I want a fucking cigarette and this is safer than me going out to buy a pack. No, I won’t be eating like this every night; I haven’t done that so far, have I? No, so just leave me alone about it.

I just hope this stupid craving is gone tomorrow because it might make me go insane if it doesn’t. Have you ever heard the song, “The Ballad of Lucy Jordan”? If you haven’t, Google it and take a listen; if you have, I’m climbing on the rooftop when all the laughter grows too loud. Maybe they’ll give me a cigarette in the whacky shack and I’ll be fine. Then they’ll tell me I must smoke to prevent further insanity. Maybe I’m a medical anomaly; yea, that’s it. I’m the only person in the World, so far, that has to smoke cigarettes to prevent illness. Wow! I could go on Letterman, and Oprah. I could write a book; maybe two. I’d be on the best seller list for weeks. They’d make a movie about my life. Yea! Debra Messing could play me. That would be so cool. I’d be rich and I’d be able to help my friends, and donate to all the places that helped me for these past couple of years. My kids’ lives would be better. We’d have everything we need and want. Yea, think of the possibilities.

Okay, back to Earth now. It’s never gonna happen and we all know it. The part about me going insane might happen but the rest is all bullshit. It is fun to dream, though. One thing I don’t have to dream about is that big bowl of ice cream. I’m going to get it just to spite the Universe. Until tomorrow…peace to all.

The Joy of Children

My Zach had a birthday today; he turned seven. I told him it’s time he started looking for a job and getting a place of his own. He just grinned and said, “Mom, c’mon,” as if I were a lunatic. I shook my head, and sighed, “Alright, I’ll give you until you’re eight, but that’s my final decision.” He just laughed at me; he’s too cute. I can’t believe he’s seven already. I can remember having him and holding him for the first time. I said to him the same thing I’d said to Tyler when he was born 18 months earlier, and the same thing I’d say to Dolly when she was born three years later: I cradled Zach in my arms, looked into his beautiful, newborn face and said, “Happy Birthday. It’s nice to finally meet you.” I was in love from the moment I saw him, and his siblings, of course.

I don’t think there is any greater love than a mother has for a child. Granted, there are some women who should never have been permitted to have children; but me, I wanted all of my children and I think the love I feel for them is stronger than anything I’ll ever know. That’s not to say they don’t drive me insane some days, and it doesn’t mean we don’t have our ups and downs, but to look at their faces when they’re asleep, or deep in thought, or just staring at something in wonder makes me fall in love with them all over again. I can have a really bad day and when I check on my kids right before I go to sleep, and I give them one more kiss on their sleeping faces, whatever happened during the day just melts away. Nothing is so bad that the face of a beautiful sleeping child can’t erase. Those same faces can be extremely hilarious at times too.

I remember when Tyler was four we still lived in the house their dad left us in. Ty was running from my bedroom on one side of the house through the living room to the big, over-stuffed rocking/recliner we had that sat on the far end of the room. He came running in as fast as four-year-old legs can run and leapt onto the recliner, bounced on the seat, and completely off the other side. He landed on the floor with a thud, reached his little hands up to grasp the over-stuffed arm of the chair, pulled himself to standing and stared at me like he was a miniature drunk – a little unsteady, not quite sure of what had just happened, and totally undecided about how to respond. The moment I saw his little dazed face, I burst into laughter, unable to stop at any cost. The whole thing had happened so quickly, and the look on his face was so stunned and adorable, that my laughter was automatic and uncontrollable. Once Ty saw me laughing, he also started laughing and just went on with his day. Zach is just as funny at times.

When he was three, and Ty was almost five, we still lived in that same house. The three of us would sit at the table for dinner. Zach would stand up on his chair, put his hands out in front of him to quiet the crown, I guess, and announce, “A Poem, by Zachary Manski.” (He had trouble pronouncing his last name at that age.) He’d turn his back to Ty and me, he’d wiggle a little bit and clear his throat, as if he was getting into character, then he returned to facing us. He’d look at us with as serious a face as he could muster and would recite whatever came into his head; something as simple as, “A bee flew onto a yellow flower, then flew off, then went home. Thank you.” Then he’d sit down and go back to eating without even looking up while Ty and I just started at him in amazement. A few seconds later he’d look up at us, say, “What?” then shrug his shoulders and go back to eating. Then Ty and I had to laugh – there was no other choice. Dolly, although not as creative, is just as funny as her brothers at times.

In November of last year a new show premiered on Nickelodeon. It’s called “Big Time Rush” and it’s about four hockey-playing best friends who get picked to be the next big boy group. The stars are 19 and 20, I believe, but play 16 year olds. Since the show only premiered and wasn’t due to start the weekly episodes until January, my kids watched the hour-long premiere every time it was on, and constantly once it hit OnDemand. I knew the theme song by heart and was beginning to recite the show in my sleep. Anyway, they all wanted to watch if for the twelfth day in a row, I think. When I asked what the big deal was, Ty and Zach gave their answers: “I like the music,” and “It’s funny;” but when Dolly gave her answer, I just about busted a gut. She looked right at me, put her hands on her hips, rolled her eyes, and said, “Because the guys are hot, DUH!!” Now, I’ll admit, I’m old enough to be their mother, but the guys on the show are attractive; I wish I could find a guy my own age who looks as good as these guys do, but Dolly was three when she said that to me. Are three-year-old girls supposed to be thinking guys are hot? Do they even know what hot is? Holy crow. She is too much sometimes.

I don’t know about my kids; they can be loving one minute, and hateful the next. They make me angry, they make me cry, they hurt my feelings, they ignore me; but they also make me laugh so hard I can’t breathe, they warm my insides better than any cup of tea, they shower me with kisses and hugs, they make me want to be the best person I can possibly be, they’ve helped me know a love like no other. There is nothing on Earth I wouldn’t do for my kids, and, regardless of what happens between us, I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. There is also one thing I know with absolute certainty, no question about it: I love them with every ounce of my being; they are my sun, my moon, my world – they are my children.

Until tomorrow…peace to all.