Happy Birthday To Me?

Today was my birthday. Was it a glorious day? Nope, but it also could have been a lot better. I thought I was going to have a pleasant day with no hassles. Problem is, nothing ever turns out like I expect it. I woke up to Ty fighting with one of the kids I am babysitting; even though my kids promised me there would be no fighting today. Technically now it was yesterday. So there was the first-thing-in-the-morning fighting. That never fails to happen. Then I had to take Dolly to Urgent Care – nothing major.

Before that my neighbor asked me if I would be able to watch his kids for a couple of hours later in the day. Why not? I wasn’t doing anything else anyway. A couple of hours turned into four hours during which I got sunfried when I had to sit on the stoop with the infant in a stroller because the toddler insisted she had to be outside with her pre-school-aged brother and all the older kids. I was out in the sun for almost the entire four hours – getting a seriously fucked up sunburn/tan – before I insisted she come in the house so all the kids could watch TV. From that moment on she was determined to go back outside and kept dragging her four-year-old brother to the front door to look for Mom or Dad. I finally got annoyed and sat her down on the sofa and insisted that brother go ahead and watch TV with the rest of the kids. Not 15 minutes later Dad showed up at the door; sincerely apologetic because the class he was attending ran way over the time limit.

They left and I fed some dinner to the six kids I still had left, and then we shared the very small cake and ice cream that Zach insisted I buy for myself. By then I was so incredibly angry that I couldn’t stand it anymore. I love that particular couple but having to watch 10 kids and not being able to feed any of them and having my six getting angry with me because they weren’t allowed to eat didn’t help make things any better. Dude, there is only so much food in my house. I’m getting ready to move and am trying to get rid of what I’ve got so I don’t have to move it all with me. We were working off the extra kids’ mother’s supply of food that she brought with them Friday night (read that blog if you don’t understand). I didn’t have enough for the ultra-extra three kids. I say ‘three’ because the infant had formula and wasn’t really concerned with what snacks I had in my cupboard.

Okay, so the six I was responsible for had their corndogs, and cake with ice cream and were all happy and went outside to play. I gave a piece of cake and two scoops of ice cream to my neighbor G. and her pre-school daughter because I love them and they deserve it. They are just too sweet and have been through as much shit as I have. There is no way I could’ve missed sharing my birthday with them; even it if was just via cake and ice cream.

After all the kids were outside I decided that I needed to have a drink to celebrate my birthday for myself. I took my 24oz. glass, filled it with ice, added a shot (or perhaps two) of vodka, and filled the rest with grape Kool-Aid; stirred and drank. When it was half gone I refreshed it. I can’t walk around with a half empty glass; it’s an amazingly, refreshingly, relaxing drink. A couple of those and you’re (if you can hold your alcohol) relaxed but not even buzzed; just enjoying the atmosphere. I made my neighbors (the neighbor who ran late at the class and his wife) each a drink, and we sat outside their townhome and chatted. Then I refilled our drinks, about four times each. Our kids ran around and played in the sunset, dusk, and then dark. Finally, a little after 10:00 we all took our kids inside our respective homes to get them ready for bed. I have my extra three, the ones I’m babysitting, all in the boys’ room sleeping; and my three are all in my bedroom sleeping. That means I’ll be sleeping on the mattress-that-became-the-sofa tonight. Whatever; I don’t really care.

Why don’t I care, you ask? No, don’t get upset; I’ll gladly tell you. Relax. I don’t care because I’m pissed at a few things that happened today; or should I say, they didn’t happen today. First of all, the chick who said she wanted my rocking chair never called to come get it. I’m glad I didn’t give her my exact address; I just gave her directions to the vicinity and told her when she reached a specific spot to call and I’d talk her in the rest of the way. Maybe I’ll call her tomorrow to see if she really wants the rocker. Maybe I freaked her out by not giving her my complete address. Dude, I’ve got six kids here, three of my own, that I am responsible for keeping safe. Unless you can commit to me that you want my furniture, I’m not giving you my complete address.

That was the first thing, and can I tell you how fucking bad I want a cigarette right now?! Oh my sweet Angel of Universal Breath, I really want a cigarette right now. I won’t smoke one, – WHY? – because I don’t have any!!! I wouldn’t smoke one even if I did have any but that’s beside the point. That doesn’t mean I still don’t want one. April 26th seems so long ago and it’s really only, what, ten weeks? IT’S A LIFETIME WHEN I SMOKED FOR ALMOST 24 YEARS!!! The smell of a cigarette on someone else sucks balls but that doesn’t mean it isn’t appealing. You haven’t had a baby around in 24 years and suddenly smell one and think of how nice it would be to have one again. Does that mean you go and have one? NO; it just means the smell brings back seriously pleasant memories for you. Or you smell the perfume your first girlfriend wore back in High School. It brings back similar pleasant memories even though the bad times outweighed the good. Do you go and try to find her? No, you’re not that stupid. Folks, a familiar, pleasant smell doesn’t mean you have to repeat the negative behavior associated with it. Just thought I’d point that out to anyone who may not be paying attention. I’d be paying attention but I can’t afford it; that chick didn’t buy my rocking chair.

Let’s get back on track here, why don’t we. Why do you keep distracting me? So the chick didn’t buy my chair; I know, I’ve said that three times but I did say I’d call her tomorrow to try to rectify the situation. Here’s the deal, the big reason I’m pissed to the hilt; the reason I called Ellen at quarter-after-twelve EST even though I don’t call anyone after 10:00p.m. On my Facebook account I have 97 friends, I think. The majority are people I know personally – family, friends, former school mates, etc. Few are people that I “friended” because my sister suggested it when I was playing all the Facebook games. The more “friends” you have, the better the game is. These few people I actually converse with – virtually, of course, and I really dig them. Some are people I met through Kaplan Online University while I was obtaining my degree, and consider some of my best friends, even though we’ve never met in person, and a small handful are complete strangers, although seriously friendly and personable people. I adore all my Facebook friends, regardless of how I know them.

“Oh my sweet Lord, this chick isn’t getting to the point.” Yes, I am, I promise. Without the backdrop, you can’t see the foreground. Get ready. If you’re a Facebook-y you know that it notifies you when you have a “friend” with a birthday coming up, and it notifies you on that specific day. Now, I’m not one for big birthday celebrations; matter of fact, I’ve never even had a birthday party other than the one where my mother invited THREE neighborhood girls over to celebrate my sister’s birthday with mine (we both have July birthdays) and my mother barbequed while she chit-chatted with her friend. I’m 43 years old and have had one pseudo birthday party in my life. I’m getting to the point, I promise.

I got 22 birthday wishes on Facebook (that may not seem like a lot to you but with only 97 friends that’s a good amount and I love it) starting the day before my birthday from friends who thought they may not be able to get on FB Saturday. I got birthday wishes from relatives, friends I know personally, friends I’ve only spoken to on the phone, and friends I’ve never met or spoken to at all (in essence, complete strangers outside of FB). Some of the people mentioned here are people I haven’t spoken to in years; the mother of one of my exes even sent me birthday wishes. Guess what though? I didn’t get a birthday wish from my own sister or my best male friend, Joe. This, right now, is why I need a smoke. I’m ready to cry and don’t have any way to calm myself down at this exact instant. Yes, there are methods that I use, but I don’t want them now; I want a cigarette.

My sister is my half-sister; different fathers, same mother. We grew up together; and, according to our mother, I raised my sister. No gory details right now about our past except to say the she reconnected with her bio father and his family and she’s since forgotten who I am, apparently. Her half-brother, who I grew up with for part of my childhood, considered me part of the family, I thought. His wife even “friended” me on FB and I reconnected with their kids who still call me Aunt Beth. Not only did I not get a birthday greeting from my faux sister-in-law or either of my nieces (my faux brother isn’t on FB), but my own fucking sister couldn’t wish me a happy birthday at any time during the day. I did get an automated birthday wish from the forum of the company she and her husband, my b-in-l, own. It was even written to my online forum name, not my real name. “Dear Mabel, Power Hungry Performance would like to wish you a happy birthday.” Nothing personal; no phone call, no birthday card, no Facebook message, nothing. I guess since her other blood related sister died in January, her other bio family is all that matters. On Friday she posted to her s-in-l, the brother’s wife who “friended” me, that they all get together next week, meeting somewhere in between their homes (one lives in GA, the other in NC) for the sixth-month sadiversary (thanks Ellen) of their bio sister’s death. Fuck me, right? I guess I just don’t exist anymore to them.

Joe is a different story. I’ve known him for a little over nine years. I’ve been his sounding board through his first divorce; his ex-wife turning his daughter against him, and trying to turn his son against him; the shit with his current/potentially soon-to-be-second-ex-wife, and the shit going on at his place of employment. He called me, almost, every single day. He came here to visit us in March, after he had knee surgery and was out on disability. It was the first time anyone had come to visit us in the almost-six years we’ve lived here. He got back home, moved out of the marital house for a while, called me every single day, moved back into the marital home at the insistence of his attorney in June (won’t discuss the reasons here), and suddenly I get one 15-minute call every other week. Mind you, his previous calls lasted hours; we could watch entire movies together, long distance, over the phone.

Joe’s birthday was June 30. I texted him late the night before; first thing the morning of; and called him the afternoon of. I never heard from him. He called me a few days ago to bullshit. He’s getting reunited with his daughter, and I’m thrilled with that. They deserve to be in each other’s lives. Today, I got nothing from him. At 6:00 tonight I texted him, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME fucker,” (we have a “special” bond that allows us to say things to each other what most people wouldn’t say to their enemies) to which he responded, “I didn’t forget @ the movies happy b-day, to you.” I responded, “You been at the movies since midnight?” I haven’t heard from him since. I gave him shit the other day about me being the only one there for him for nine years and suddenly I’m out with the trash since his daughter is back in his life. Good for them but I’m not dog shit. He thought I was kidding; I wasn’t.

I say, fuck them both – Joe and my sister. I know Joe will come around and do the right thing, eventually; I’ll give him credit when he deserves it. Doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to be pissed off until then. My sister can go scratch her fat ass as far as I’m concerned. We’ve had our differences in the past and I’m guessing we’re not as over them as she made me believe we were. She’s got her family, and I’ve got mine (my kids). I’ll live; I’m a tough cookie. Still, it hurts like fucking all get out to be shunned because you’re not a full-blooded relative (neither was her sister that died but who cares, right?). Here come the tears again and my need for a smoke. Don’t feel sorry for me; I’m fine. Once I get to MD, only those who truly need it will have my new address. My sister will not be one of those people; and I make no apologies.

I am sorry this post is so long but I needed to vent. Like I said, I called Ellen after midnight her time to discuss this because I knew she was the only one who would truly understand; I have nobody locally who would get it. I’ve vented but I still don’t feel better. I will when I get to MD and have moved on into a new life without the toxic people that I want out of my present life. I hope I will anyway. Thanks for indulging me, and, again, my apologies for such a long post.

Until next time…peace to all.