Dreams Among Other Things

So, my day wasn’t all that great; how was yours? I got a couple of applications from those apartment complexes that I mentioned yesterday and I started to complete them but kept running into questions I didn’t know how to answer. I did as much as I could do on both of them but will spend tomorrow on the phone calling the offices asking them to clarify the information needed. I’ll probably get more in the mail tomorrow and will end up having to call those offices too about the same information. No, I’m not just going to assume they all want it done the same way. If I do that and the info is wrong, the processing of my applications will be delayed.

I did take Dolly to meet her teachers today at Head Start. They’re really nice and I love the program they have set up for the kids. Dolly just made herself right at home, too, and started playing with the toys while I finished up the paperwork. She’s as excited to be starting tomorrow as I am at having her start. I am still waiting for the elementary school to get back to me to let me know if they can fit her in the afternoon pre-school so she’ll have a full day of school. I’ll call them again tomorrow. It really irks me when someone tells me they’ll call me back and then doesn’t. That is really unprofessional and I totally lose respect for that person. Regardless, I’ll get it taken care of one way or the other. If they can’t take her, so be it. Spending one more year with her home most of the day won’t kill me. At least she goes five days a week here; in Independence she only went Monday through Thursday.

If she’s home with me rather than in daycare she’ll just have to go with me where I go. We’ve done it before; we can do it again. I actually had a dream the other night that I was trying to get her someplace via airline. Since I don’t fly – at all – I thought the dream pretty strange. According to dreammoods.com, an airplane in a dream “indicates that you will overcome your obstacles and rise to a new level of prominence and status.” To dream that you are flying in a plane “suggests that you are in complete control of your destination in life. You are confident and self-assured in your decisions and accomplishments.” Since Dolly and I weren’t yet off the ground I guess I’ll have to go with the first definition; but then I have to ask the question, “When?” I really hope it’s sooner rather than later.

All my dreams lately have been really fucked up and funky; but I think I mentioned that the other day. I had a dream one night that I was moving to my home and trying to get my cats in their caddies but couldn’t. According to dreammoods.com on this one, “To see a cat in your dream, symbolizes an independent spirit, feminine sexuality, creativity, and power.” It further states, in the very next sentence, mind you, “It also represents misfortune and bad luck.” Of course it symbolizes misfortune and bad luck because that is what is my life. The dream analysis goes on to say that the meaning also depends on whether I’m a cat lover or not. I am a cat lover so I guess that means I should be looking at the positive meaning; however, I’ll take “misfortune and bad luck” for $200, Alex.

The weirdest dream I’ve had of late is not only self-explanatory but it’s the most telling dream I’ve ever had in my entire life. A friend of mine – I’ve spoken to him on the phone and we are friends on Facebook but have never met in real life – was leading me into the house of people I didn’t know, and that he barely knew. The people were home, but didn’t know we were there. My friend wanted to look around the people’s house, not take anything, just look, but I backed out of the house and waited outside because, now get this, I FELT LIKE I WAS INVADING THEIR PRIVACY. Imagine that – going into the house of people you hardly know and feeling like you’re invading their privacy. That’s me, alright. If you don’t get it, I can’t really explain it. You’ll have to inbox me on Facebook or something if you need further explanation of that. Plus, I can’t find anything on dreammoods.com when I search “sneak,” “privacy,” or “invade.” Those are the only words I can think of to describe the dream but nothing in their definitions is even close to the dream. I also can’t figure out why that particular friend-that-I’ve-never-met was chosen as my companion in the dream. Therefore, I’ll have to go with the understanding that it was just describing my feelings to a tee. Yep, that’ll do it.

Some of my other dreams have been fucked up, too, but I can’t recall them. That’s probably because they weren’t worth remembering or that they don’t hold much meaning. I do recall one about Paul helping us move and dreammoods.com says that dreaming of an ex indicates that someone in my present is causing me to feel the way I did when I was with my ex. I can agree with that since I’ve been having a lot of PTSD flashbacks lately; and I can’t stand them. Maybe the positive aspect of the airplane dream will help me overcome the negative shit from all the other dreams. I’ll let you know if that happens but, in the meantime, I’m going to continue paying attention to my dreams. If the Universe is on my side for a while, maybe it’ll send me some real positive messages over the next few days – via dream. I can’t wait.

Until next time…peace to all.

I Laughed Today

So I woke up this morning still in tears. I’m totally stressing myself over this housing thing. I know better, too; that’s the really scary part. I have techniques to get me past these moments; I just haven’t used any yet. I’m thinking maybe I will start using them – immediately. That might be better for all of us; I’ll calm down, the kids will settle down, I’ll calm down more… I can’t really do anything right this minute, though, because it’s hard to type and technique at the same time.

I am feeling a little bit better this evening, I must say. I don’t know why; maybe the Universe has something special in store for me tomorrow (later today) and my energy is changing. I’ll have to wait and see. If it doesn’t, I’ll just deal with it and move past it. The more I dwell, the more anxious I get, the more panicky I get, and on it goes. Time to stop doing that. I will update you in the next post and let you know what spectacular thing did or didn’t happen during the day.

I did go out today to the churches I couldn’t get to on Friday. One supplied me with a list of resources that I’ve already utilized; the other still had locked doors. I can’t figure that out because I was there during business hours. So I came home, called them – that’s how I know I was there during business hours, it said so on the message – and left a message for them to call me. I also called some more subsidized properties and asked them to send me applications. With luck I should be getting those within a day or two. With Ellen’s help, I made an appointment with the local DV people since they assist victims with finding permanent housing. I’ll go see them next Wednesday to see what, if anything, they can do for me.

I made the appointment for then because Dolly isn’t going to pre-school anymore, she’s being put into Headstart and she’ll be a regular student before next week arrives. Yes, they found a spot for her really fast. I’m so excited and so is she. Problem is, she can’t go until her teacher makes a home visit and that hasn’t happened yet. Headstart just started the year today so she’s only going to be missing a couple of days, but I am going to call them tomorrow. I don’t want her missing an entire week because of delays in paperwork or anything. That’s at the top of my to-do list for the morning. After I get the boys to school, I’ll be calling to leave a message with Dolly’s teacher to set up that appointment. I’m tired of waiting on other people; at least I can do what I need to do on my end.

I think, after that, I’ll do some more researching and phone calling then I’ll have to do something to change my energy. I can’t keep walking around in a funk all the time. It’s making my wrinkles deeper and giving me frown lines. If I keep up with the negative energy I’ll look sixty before my next birthday. I don’t want that. No worries, I’ll do what needs to be done, even if it means watching “The Joy of Stress” with Loretta LaRoche over and over again until I laugh myself silly. Maybe I’ll give that a shot tomorrow; that could be fun. I’m going to bed now, though, because it’s late and I’m tired. Perhaps I’ll have some happy dreams tonight instead of the fucked up and funky dreams I’ve been having lately. Only sleep will tell.

Until next time…peace to all.

Pathetic At Its Best

I don’t know that I have anything worth saying tonight. I can’t stop crying no matter how hard I try. As soon as I think I’m done, I start all over again. I just woke up Dolly because I was crying; she came over and gave me a hug. I’m about to go into panic mode, too. I’ve only had one other panic attack in my life, and it was just a couple of years ago, but I know what it feels like when it starts. I’m just trying not to let it happen at all. I feel like I’ve completely lost control over everything that means anything to me, and I don’t know what to do about it.

Tomorrow I’m back to searching for a home for the kids and me; I’ll continue putting my name out to the churches in the area, and offering to barter services for a home. I don’t think it’ll work but it’s all I’ve got left. I’m guessing I’ll just end up getting a job someplace, any place, to earn an income so I can afford to rent something myself. Fuck the system; I’m tired of being put on hold all the time. If need be, I’ll sell what little furniture I kept so I can have the money for a deposit, or whatever is required.

I’m really just kicking myself in the ass for making such a bad judgment call with my life. If I could go back in time, I never would’ve gotten my degree. Instead I just would have gotten a part-time job close to home so I’d be able to get the kids to and from school; and I would’ve kept the online tutoring to do from home so I could be there for the kids. I can’t go back and change anything now, and there is no way I can make happen what I want so I just have to roll with what I’ve got and make the best of it. It sucks for the kids because I wanted better for them; that was my intention when I was getting my degree. I wanted a high-paying career so I could give them the benefits I didn’t get having a narcissistic mother and shit-ass childhood. Too bad I suck at doing the right thing lately. I just hope my kids understand that I did try and that, whatever work I find, I’m doing my best. Maybe someday; I can always hope for that, right?

I’m tired now, though, from crying all day and I need to get some sleep to get the boys off to school in the morning. Maybe by then my tears will have dried and I can get something done without spouting every five minutes. If not, I’ll just walk around looking even more pathetic than I already do. At least I’m consistent. I'm also not looking for sympathy from anyone; I'm just on here venting, it's a good outlet. It's either this or walk around talking to myself. I usually do that out loud so it might look seriously odd, with all the chatter going on in my head right now, for me to talk to myself. As it is, all the talking I have been doing has been in whisper so the kids don't notice. I'm going to bed now; maybe I can talk myself to sleep.

Until next time…peace to all.

Just a Quick Hello

I’m probably not going to write a lot tonight. It’s already 1:40 in the morning and I’m tired; I also think I’m getting a cold. My throat is a little scratchy and my nose is clogged. Blech!! I don’t really have much to say anyway, I didn’t do anything today. I got my resume in order and am working on a cover letter that I’ll be able to send to the local attorneys; and I did laundry. That’s, pretty much, it for the day. I spent the evening watching Vin Diesel movies with Sonny; we were picking them apart and laughing at them. That was pretty fun.

The kids were sent to bed early because they didn’t keep the deal we made last night about bed time. After dinner they all got showers and were put into bedroom time. Zach fell asleep right away, Ty stayed in his room like he’s supposed to, but Dolly was a royal butt cramp tonight. She had a nap this afternoon so I knew she wouldn’t go to sleep right away but she didn’t actually fall asleep until after midnight, when I came up to bed. She was still up and playing when I got in here, and that’s after she was in and out of the bedroom half a dozen times. No more naps for little missy.

I’m also thinking Love and Logic needs to be stepped up a bit. I’m not at all happy with the way the kids are taking advantage of their choices so something needs to be done. My energy is draining out of me with every bad choice they make. I just may have to make them aware of that so they can replenish my energy to do the things they want to do. Zach’s attitude is getting worse by the day so I may have to think of something a bit stronger for him. I’ll let you know what that is once I’ve visited the L&L website to get some more suggestions. It’s not like I don’t know them all already; I’ve only been studying and implementing it for over four years now. It’s just that I can’t really remember all of the techniques right now and can’t find my workbook. I’ll check the file cabinets tomorrow and hope I get lucky. Otherwise, I’ll go to the website.

I’m going to bed, now, though. I just wanted to check in and let you all know I didn’t forget about you. Had Dolly gone to sleep when she should have, I would have been here earlier and might have had more to say. As it is, I’m tired and feeling oogy so I’ll call it a night. I’m hoping this cold is a mild one. Fingers crossed for that too, please and thanks.

Until next time…peace to all.

Door-To-Door Begging

Today I went begging door to door. Never done that before but there’s always a first time for everything. I went to six different churches today asking for assistance to find housing. A couple of the churches were closed, but the rest all took my number and said they’d get back to me if they found anything. I’m betting they won’t, but you never know, right? Okay, Beth, if you say so… Anyway, I didn’t even think to offer to barter services in exchange for housing – working in the owner’s business, doing chores for them, etc. Ellen asked me once I got home if I mentioned that to anyone and I honestly didn’t think about it because I was almost in tears the entire time, talking to these people. I felt really humiliated. Actually, I think ‘humiliated’ isn’t strong enough but I don’t know what word would fit. You get the picture, I’m sure. I was begging for a home. ‘Nuff said.

There was only one other time in my life that I felt like that and that was the first day I went to Social Services, in Independence, MO, to apply for food stamps and cash assistance. I was 39 years old, had two pre-school boys and was pregnant with Dolly. I was sitting in the Social Services waiting room amongst a crowd of under-aged pregnant girls, who’d brought their moms or dads with them for moral support, I guess; or because they didn’t understand how to complete the forms. Whatever their reasons, I was way out of place. I wasn’t a pregnant teen who still needed mommy and daddy to hold my hand. I was a grown woman who should have been able to take care of myself and my kids.

Because of circumstances beyond my control, however, I was forced to become part of “the system.” I hated it and I felt smaller than small that day, especially when my caseworker spoke to me like I was a disgusting kid who’d just spit gum in her hair. What the fuck? I didn’t ask to be there, I was forced because I had no other options at the time. Once I got the paperwork completed and got my approval for emergency funding and food stamps – my approval for monthly funding would come a few days later – I left the office and cried the whole way home. When I got home I called a friend, someone I’d known since I was 15 and who’d been through the process before, and she made me feel a little better. She told me to look at receiving State benefits as payback for all the money I’d put into the system over the 18 years I’d worked. She said it was just me getting back what was mine, at a time when I really needed it.

I guess when you look at it that way it doesn’t sound so bad, does it? I understood what she was saying, and agreed that I could look at it that way but it took me a while. I was still in shock over having to actually go into the office in the first place. Even though there were others there, I felt like they were all staring at me, and I’m the only one who had all my teeth. Maybe that’s why they were staring. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know was that it was humiliating and I didn’t like it. Don’t get me wrong; I’d been poor all my life so I knew what it was like to be needy. This was poor beyond poor – having to beg for money from the State. I knew the stigmas that went with receiving food stamps. It wasn’t fun.

I also knew the stigmas and stereotypes that were attached to those of us who lived in Hawthorne Place (I didn’t at the time but a short five months later, there I was) but I didn’t have a choice with that either. Fuck, even the police that patrolled Hawthorne thought we were just trashy people sponging off the government. They didn’t care about our complaints and sometimes even showed up with their McDonald’s order on the seat beside them. McDonald’s was a short, five-minute drive from us so we knew that, when the officer had his lunch or dinner on the seat, he’d been sitting in the drive-through when he got the call. What they didn’t know was that I wasn’t like any of my neighbors. I was raising three kids on my own (yes, Paul paid, and still does pay, child support but he wasn’t there); I was working part-time from home doing online tutoring, and I was earning my Bachelors degree. I wasn’t there just to live off the State as were so many of my neighbors. They figured they didn’t need to work if they State would pay their bills.

I wasn’t like that, which is why it made it so much tougher on me. I wanted them to understand, “them” being anyone outside of Hawthorne who judged me without even knowing me, that I wasn’t a freeloader; that I’d worked hard all my life to contribute to the system; and that I was actually using the system for what it was designed – to do what I needed to do to be able to get myself back on my own two feet and out of the system. Unfortunately, nothing is working the way it’s supposed to right now. Did I mention that I went out begging for a home today? I shouldn’t have to beg for anything. No, it shouldn’t just be handed to me on a silver platter but I’ve worked hard to get where I am and I just need help one more time to get me going. Once I get a place to live, I’ll be able to whore my paralegal services in every attorney’s office I encounter.

Just one more bit of assistance and, I promise, I’ll work my ass off to do what it takes to make myself successful. I just need to convince someone of that. The problem is that I don’t know who that “someone” is, yet. Maybe I’ll get semi-lucky and somebody from one of the churches will call me back with a contact or a connection. Then I’ll be able to speak to that person and convince him or her to give me a chance to prove myself. Once that happens I’ll be off and running. I’m just not convinced that I’ll even get a call back from anyone. A few did say they’d call me either way – whether they found something or whether they didn’t. I’m guessing they’ll all say they didn’t. Regardless, I’ll be back out there on Monday finding more churches to see if they have any contacts for me. More begging, I can’t wait. Maybe if I wear a costume, like it’s Halloween, I can be more convincing. Either or someone will stall me long enough for the wacky shack to come get me. Whatever…fingers crossed, please, that I can find what I need in short order – sooner rather than later. I’ll keep you updated.

Until next time…peace to all.

Almost Out of Options

I have come to the conclusion that I’ve wasted $35,000 on an education that I’ll never use. I checked every possible housing lead today and actually got nowhere at all, other than on a bunch of waiting lists. Not even that really since I haven’t yet filled out the applications. I’ll do that over the weekend and then I’ll be put on the waiting lists. I did fine one place that has a vacant 3-bedroom apartment for $950. That’s just a bit over my current income. However, the complex has a minimum income requirement which is almost $17,000 more than I currently make. I did the math and figured I’d have to make around $11 an hour over 40 hours a week just to qualify for the place. I’m doing this by net income since gross income doesn’t count for shit. Just because a person earns a certain amount doesn’t mean she actually brings that amount home so the bills still can’t be paid.

In any case, in order for me to make that kind of money I’ll have to work at whatever job I can find that will pay me that kind of money. Then I’ll have to find daycare for the kids because they’ll be out of school before I’m done with work. A large portion of what I make will have to go toward that daycare so that’ll, pretty much, cause me to break even after the rent is paid. I’d qualify for child care assistance but I don’t really know how much until I get a job and then apply for the assistance. It’s funny because, and I’ve already said this, I can’t get a job without having the assistance. Government rules suck!!

So, here I am, at a huge crossroads. Do I want to take any job I can just to be able to afford an apartment; and give up everything I’ve worked so hard for to date? No, I don’t, but I may not have any choice. My last resort is to follow through with an idea given to me by a lady I spoke with today who works for one of the agencies I contacted. She said that there are a lot of churches here in Walkersville and that I should go to them and explain my situation. Her idea is that, perhaps, someone will know a property owner who would be willing to work with me and would accept my incredibly low rent payments until I can get myself up and working.

She knows I’m not just another person using the system for the wrong reasons. She knows I’ve got a degree and what my plans are; and she thinks that, with my determination, I should be able to get the help I need. I hope so because my faith in myself is dwindling fast. I said it the other night; I think I fucked up royally and that I’m just going to screw things up for the kids and me. Right now I’m almost convinced that we should have just stuck it out in Independence and that I would have found work eventually. I’ll never know now, though. Now I have to concentrate on moving forward here and, if I have to, I’ll just forget about the paralegal degree and get a job at Wal-Mart to support my kids. In three years I’ll be paying off my student loans so I’ll need to make enough to cover those when they come due. I’m sure that, after three years at Wal-Mart, it won’t be a problem.

So tomorrow I’m off to beg from whomever I meet at these churches. I’ll just have to sell myself and my family, giving every detail possible so that they know I’m not bullshitting them, and that I’m doing what I need to do for my kids and me. The way I see it, this is my last chance, really. I do have one more appointment lined up but that’s not for two weeks. I’m also pretty convinced that it’ll be a waste of time for me and them because they’ll end up putting me on a waiting list too. I understand the economy is bad but am I the only one who’s willing to bust ass to work to support my family? I hate being in the system and I hate it even more that the system is designed to keep me down rather than helping me get back on my feet. That’s something that has to change in the future but I don’t think it’ll be me doing the arguing. It’ll have to be someone who can actually work in the legal field; I’m sure a Wal-Mart associate won’t have much pull. Anyway, I’m off to bed, depressed again, and ready to give up; but I won’t, not just yet. When all of my options have been thoroughly exhausted then I’ll throw in the towel. I’ll let you know what that is.

Until next time…peace to all.

A World of Stupidity

I’m feeling really sarcastic this evening and feel the need to let it out here. I was watching TV tonight and kept seeing commercials that had some really stupid commentary. I know it had to be there per the guidelines that govern commercials, but, come on, does the general public lack common sense to the point that we have to be told the obvious? I guess so, since I’m thinking that one dope in the crowd actually did what the commercials warned against. With all the jokes about warnings listed on products, we know that one moron, at some point in time, actually did whatever idiotic thing it was to warrant the warning being put there. He used a hair dryer in the bathtub, or held a firecracker in his hand while it exploded; shit like that. It must be the same with the stuff I saw on the commercials.

There was one for a medication to treat a chronic lung ailment. It’s an inhaler-type of medication that is supposed to control the inflammation in the lungs and it’s supposed to be taken only twice a day – no more; it’s not an asthma inhaler or anything similar. It’s a medication that should be used as directed. We all know that a lot of people – I’m not one of them since I don’t do medications if I can help it – will use some medications however they see fit rather than following the recommended dosages. It happens. This medication is no different but the commercial had the dosage in small print on the bottom of the screen during the entire commercial, and the spokesman said it twice. I think we got the point that it’s only supposed to be used twice a day.

The dude also mentioned that you should tell your doctor if you suffer from heart disease or high blood pressure before beginning this medication. Now I ask you, if I’m going to my doctor to request a medication for a chronic lung ailment it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen that doctor, right? Wouldn’t he know that I suffer from heart disease or high blood pressure? I’m thinking, if he’s a decent doctor, I really shouldn’t have to remind him of any other illnesses or conditions going on inside my body. Is the commercial indicating that there may be the odd chance that a person might see that commercial, decide he needs the medication advertised, and just run to any old doctor to get the prescription? Or is it saying that my doctor might be so forgetful that he needs a reminder from me of all my medical conditions? If he needs a reminder from me, I’m changing doctors. That’s a good tip for anyone.

Another commercial I see all the time is one for a medication that suppresses Herpes outbreaks. I find it amusing that the “afflicted” people in the commercials are all model-type people with bright, perky smiles. They happily tell us that they take the medication so they won’t infect their partners. Honestly, I don’t think I’d be so happy about taking that medication that I’d want everyone to know about it. The actors should look a little more solemn if you ask me. What I find funny about the commercial, though, are the warnings that come at the end. You know, the part where the voice over lists the side effects and should/should nots. There is actually a warning not to take that particular medication “if you have advanced HIV.” You know, if I had advanced HIV, I’m thinking Herpes would not be on my top-ten list of things to treat. I probably wouldn’t be sexually active at that point anyway, so what would it matter?

And speaking of sex, the third commercial I saw was one for a birth control device. It showed women who were questioning whether or not they’d taken their pill that day, or gotten their shot that week, blah, blah, blah. I was on the pill for many years and never forgot to take it. Wake in the morning, brush your teeth, take your pill. It’s simple, ladies. In any case, the commercial was for Mirena; a birth control device that’s inserted into the uterus and stays there for up to five years if you want. Of course, it’s not 100% effective and can cause cramps, abdominal pain, and, in a small number of cases, pelvic inflammatory disease. Hey, I want that. NOT!!! But, here’s the line that got my attention: “If Mirena falls out, use back-up birth control.” YA THINK!!??

Was there really some dopey chick out there whose little intra-uterine, T-shaped birth control thingy fell out, she had sex without a back-up method of birth control, then tried to blame the makers of Mirena? Don’t tell me that she actually thought that, even though it was in her hand, it was still working as usual. For fuck’s sake, ladies, the condom doesn’t work if the guy’s not wearing it, the pill doesn’t work if you don’t take it, and intra-uterine devices don’t work outside the uterus. Gimme a break, would ya? I know there are some really stupid people in this World, but that just irks me. I get tired of being treated like I’m one of them, don’t you?

Maybe we could brand all the morons; those who use products incorrectly due to sheer stupidity, then try to sue the makers for millions. If we could just put a big, permanent ‘S’ (for Stupid) on their forehead, we’d know who to avoid as we walked down the streets. They could start their own club and discuss all the moronic shit they’d done and we won’t have to hear about it, nor would unneeded tax dollars be spent on frivolous lawsuits. The dopes could just stand in the courtroom and have folks like us berate them for a while; then the judge could order the tattoo done right then and there. And any lawyers working with the stupids should be made to spend the rest of their lives with the branded person, all the while wearing an “I’m with Stupid” T-shirt. Then we’d know which lawyers to avoid also.

Don’t waste my time with your condescending bullshit, please, Oh Masters of the Commercial. My doctor already knows my ailments; I won’t take any medication to treat one infection when I have a life-threatening infection raging inside me; and I certainly will make sure I use back-up birth control when the one that was inserted is now in my hand. Matter of fact, why don’t you just get the moron who caused the extra clauses to do the commercials? “Hi, my name is Ima Nidiot. The Mirena birth control device works fantastically well; I never even had a pregnancy scare while I used it. Then it fell out one day and I didn’t use a back-up method of birth control because I thought the Mirena would still do its job. My twins tell me differently. Next time it falls out I’ll be sure to call my doctor, blah, blah, blah…” That would be nice, right? Not only would we get the pertinent information, but we’d see first hand what happens when we don’t use common sense; plus, we’d get to laugh at someone really dumb. Sounds like good clean fun to me. I just love to laugh, don’t you?

Until next time…peace to all.

The Ultimate Loser

I fucked up big time and I can’t go back and change it now. I never should have moved from where I was. After ten months of research and phone calls, I’ve come to find out that nobody has a fucking clue what’s what in any form when it comes to, pretty much, anything. I spent all that time making phone calls to different agencies to find out what I had to do to get what I needed once I got out here. Not one place gave me correct information and now I’m paying for it.

The people within the school district couldn’t give me information that I needed because nobody seemed to have any answers and kept referring me to other people who didn’t have any answers. The pre-school only attends for two-and-a-half hours a day; Dolly will be out of the house for a total of three hours. Nobody bothered to tell me that when I asked. In Independence she was in school for five hours a day. At least I could’ve worked at Quik-Trip or something while she was out of the house. I have less time now than I did then.

The State didn’t tell me everything I needed to know about benefits, either. According to the information I received when I got here I have to be applying for work in order to get benefits; nobody mentioned that when I called – numerous times. The problem is that I still can’t afford daycare. I might qualify for daycare assistance but in order to apply I have to have a job. That’s a big fucking catch-22. I can’t get a job without the daycare assistance, but I can’t get the assistance without having the job. What the fuck?? Plus, nobody bothered to mention to me that the Section 8 voucher wait list was closed indefinitely. I’ll have to make a trip to the Housing Authority to see what other options I have. Let’s just hope I get correct information once I get there and the morons that work there don’t just give me a bunch of bullshit.

I also think I wasted my time getting a fucking Degree in Paralegal Studies. I spent three long years working my ass off for a degree that I can’t use. I graduated last year and won’t be able to even work in the field. I have to get an income generated by doing something else so that I can afford a place to live, then I’ll have to maintain that income to pay the bills and get out of the system. I’ll never have time to find any other work; nor will I have the time to start a business doing paralegal work on a freelance basis. Even if I could I wouldn’t have the money for the research materials. Maybe, if I’d had correct information from the State to begin with, I would have known what I was up against and wouldn’t have bothered to move here.

Zach isn’t doing well with it either and it’s making me regret my decision more and more every day. His behavior with me is out of control to the point that I don’t even want to be in the same room with him. He gets out of control with his anger (and it’s getting worse) then he apologizes and expects everything to be okay again. Later in the day the same shit happens again. This is the exact pattern of an abusive person; and the exact pattern of their dad. Zach hasn’t spoken to Paul since he brought them back and his reasoning is that he didn’t like the way Paul yelled at him one day. When Paul asked about why Zach won’t talk to him, and I responded, he tried to put it all on Zach, even though I knew the truth – Paul doesn’t know I know, though. So, what does Paul do? Yesterday, before their first day of school, Paul called them to wish them luck and I asked Zach to speak to him. He did and, wouldn’t you know it, Paul tells Zach he bought them a new Xbox game (to make up for his mistreatment of Zach). Paul can’t stand having anyone angry with him so he buys their forgiveness. I really wanted to tell Zach why Paul actually bought the game but I figured it’s none of my business.

Regardless, Zach won’t control his anger and I actually had to restrain him tonight and hold him on the floor so he wouldn’t break his bowl. It’s his bowl so I should’ve let him just break it and then deal with only having one; but it was the thought that, next time, it could be something more valuable than a plastic bowl purchased from Dollar General. I should not have to restrain my seven year old because his anger is out of control. I know it’s my fault, too; that’s what makes it worse. Had I just kept them where we were, and maybe just moved to a different area, he probably would’ve been fine. Maybe he would’ve still been treated badly by Paul over a vacation, but it would’ve been a really long time before he had to see Paul again, not just the month that Paul promised them.

I just can’t believe that I actually put faith in myself, and trusted the system to actually help me. I took what people told me and worked with it, rather than questioning every single word they told me – like I usually do. I just wanted a change so badly that I was willing to believe whatever I was told. Again, that’s my fault and not something I can change or take back. I do know that I’ll never trust people again when it comes to them giving me information. I’ll call numerous people asking the same questions over and over until I am completely sure that there is no deviation in the answers. I’ve also lost a lot more faith in the so-called Universe for not steering me in the right direction, and for not stopping me from making such a colossal error in judgment. Apparently, the only one I can count on is me; and, judging by my most recent error, I’m not so sure I can really trust myself to do the right thing anymore. Whatever.

Tomorrow I’ll get up, get the boys off to school, get showered and dressed, and go out searching for housing. That’s the first thing I need to do. Maybe if the kids are in their own place, they’ll settle down a bit and I won’t have to fight with them constantly. It’s doubtful but worth a shot. Besides, it’s a necessity. I’ll just keep hounding people until they give me what I want. They won’t have a choice but to comply, because, if they don’t, they’ll have to listen to me call them constantly day in and day out, whether they like it or not.

I’m tired now, though. I’ve cried until I don’t think I can cry any more, but I’m sure once I stop typing the tears will start all over again. I’ll just have to face it that, regardless of what I want, I’m going to be living in shit for the rest of my life. I just have to hope my kids can do better for themselves than I can do for them. I don’t want them hating their childhoods the way I hate mine. At least I’m still here for them to take out their frustrations; my mom died in 1998 so I can’t even bring up all the bullshit she put me through; I can’t rise above it, either. I guess that’s as it should be, though. My life is a test to see just how much shit I can deal with in one lifetime. I know, lots of other people are worse off then I am; I’m still convinced that I’m destined to be the loser that I am today.

Until next time…peace to all.

First Day of School

I had my alarm set for 7:30 this morning. I figured I’d get up and have a few minutes to myself before I got the kids up at 7:45. That was not to be, however. My schedule was off because I was wide awake at 5:30; since I went to bed at 11:30 my internal clock said six hours was enough sleep and demanded I get out of bed. I did, long enough to make a trip to the bathroom then I went back to bed. I didn’t fall asleep right away, though, which sucked. Then, just before 7:30 Zach burst into my room crying that his shorts didn’t fit right and that he couldn’t get the drawstring tied the right way, and on, and on, and on. Zach’s high-pitched squealing is not what I wanted to hear first thing in the morning.

I had to get up then and help him. I got dressed, got Dolly out of bed, and took care of Zach’s not-so-urgent emergency. Then I discovered that Ty was already downstairs with the television on and he was ready to go to school. He even had his backpack on and wouldn’t take it off, even though it was heavy. Zach was also ready so I took their “first day of school” picture and then texted Paul that the boys were up and ready if he wanted to call them. I told him, last night, what time we’d be getting ready to leave if he wanted to call the boys on their first day. Since they were ready earlier, I figured I’d let him know so he could call if he wasn’t busy at work.


When it was time to go we drove to the school and encountered no traffic whatsoever. With three schools almost in a row I expected there to be some sort of traffic with parents and buses dropping off at each school, or, at least, in the vicinity. When we got to the boys’ school I was afraid I’d gotten the time wrong. There were maybe six or seven families waiting to deliver their children to school. At the boys’ last school there was a line of parents and students on first days and a huge “traffic jam” outside the cafeteria as everyone said their goodbyes. Nothing like that here.

So we get inside and there were some parents there delivering kids to classrooms but we weren’t sure where the cafeteria was for the boys to eat breakfast or if they had to report to their classrooms first. Can I tell you that I was really irritated with the faculty since nobody could tell us what the routine was? After speaking to two different women about it I just decided to walk to Zach’s class and ask his teacher. He knew the routine. We headed off to the cafeteria where the teacher helping the children was sitting on a lunch table bench telling the kids where to put there things, as well as pointing, and then directing them to the food line. Not once did she stand up to speak to them or show them anything. Can we say “lazy,” Miss Teacher? Shit, clerks in supermarkets are supposed to show you where an item is in an aisle. I’m betting she’d be ticked if a clerk just pointed her in the right direction.

Anyway, since nobody could give me the “free and reduced lunch” application the boys are already running a tab. The cashier this morning was polite and explained that all was well; she just wanted me to bring the form back to her so it could be faxed right away. According to the boys, the cashier at lunch was not so polite and told them they each owed $5 tomorrow. Fuck that!! I asked for those applications two weeks ago, it’s not my fault if the district doesn’t have its shit together. The applications did come home with the boys this afternoon and I’ve got them completed. I will personally return them to the office in the morning so they can be faxed right away. In the meantime, they boys will eat breakfast at home and I bought the Lunchables for lunch. That way they don’t run up any more tabs or have any grouchy lunch lady yelling at them.

What I find really funny about the whole breakfast/lunch thing is that, when I dropped the boys in the cafeteria and spoke with the cashier, I went directly to the office to speak to the secretary so I could get the application. Her answer: “We don’t have any right now but they should be sent home with the boys this afternoon. If they’re not, just pack until the applications get here.” Are you fucking kidding me? If I could afford to “pack” everyday I wouldn’t need to sign them up for free meals. Tomorrow is the only day they’ll be bringing their lunch and eating breakfast at home. I’ll make sure the application is approved as I stand in the office. I dealt with this same bullshit back in Independence; I know how to handle the stupids that work the system.

So the day goes progresses with me having my own issues with a doctor’s office receptionist. I’ve got a UTI that I’ve needed treated for two weeks but nobody would see me without my medical plan card or ID number and the plan didn’t take affect until today. I got the number and then had to deal with the moron at the front desk of the office, then I had to deal with the shit at the pharmacy later in the day. After the doctor visit, though, it was time to pick up the boys from school. What a pain in the ass. Two teachers were standing there with about 30 kids behind them and were looking for parents they knew they could match with kids, rather than letting the children tell them when they saw their own parents. Does that make sense? I’ll explain.

The teachers would spot a parent in the crowd and grab the appropriate kids to be matched to the parent. If there was more than one kid in the family that teacher found the other kid(s), making the rest of us stand there looking directly at our own kids but not being able to connect with them. Holy shit!!! Zach was looking right at me and was trying to tell one of the teachers that I was there but the teachers ignored him completely. Then Ty caught up with Zach and neither of them could get the teachers’ attention because they teachers were busy matching known kids and parents and chatting along the way. Get the fuck out of here!! If I’m there and I see my kids, I’m taking them home; I’m not sitting there for ten minutes because these teachers are dense.

All in all, the day was, um, eventful, to say the least. The boys had a good day even though Zach claims not to have met any kids. He says the kids he saw were nice, he just didn’t meet any of them. Oh, and he also sat with some at lunch. Still didn’t meet any, though. That’s Zach for ya. I’m sure things will be better for them tomorrow and they’ll both meet new friends. We also get to meet Dolly’s teacher tomorrow; she’s making a home visit. Dolly is excited but I’m betting dollars to donuts that she hides when the teacher arrives. She hid even when her teachers in Independence made home visits; and she knew them. She’ll be fine, though; then she’ll start school on Thursday and won’t begin going daily until Monday. I can’t wait. I’ll have time to think and figure things out for myself. I need to; I’m stagnating being at home with nothing to do. I don’t know if I can take another year of not working at some kind of job.

For now, though, I’m off to bed. I know it’s early (10:45) but I’m tired and need to lie down. I’m going to read for a while, though, because I don’t want to be up at 5:30 in the morning again. It sucks trying to go back to sleep when I can’t; I don’t even have any good fantasies to keep me company. If it happens again, I’m sure I’ll think of something. I’ll let you know if it’s anything interesting and if it works. Maybe you can try it, too, on those long, sleepless nights. We could start a new trend. Who knows?

Until next time…peace to all.

Mish Mosh of Truth

Three times I’ve tried to get something on here for tonight’s post and I can’t seem to get my thoughts straight. I’ve got writer’s block and I’m not even a writer. Go figure. Maybe tonight will just be a mixture of whatever is running through my head at that moment. Right now it’s Ty. He’s nervous about starting school tomorrow – new school, new friends, new teachers, new routine. He told me at dinner. I understand how he feels because I went to ten different schools from Kindergarten to High School. That’s because my mother was a selfish shit who wanted what she wanted and didn’t think of her children. Sorry for the sidebar. Ty and Zach will do fine tomorrow, though, I’m sure. A “Kissing Hand” for each of them and off they’ll go. In tomorrow’s post I’ll let you know how they did.

I also ate enough at dinner tonight to make me feel disgusting. I really didn’t want to eat but someone suggested we have tacos and nachos and I have to eat nachos; I can’t pass on them. Dolly didn’t eat hers, though, and passed them on to me so I got stuck eating hers and mine. That’s enough for the next couple of days, if you ask me. Maybe I’ll feel like eating again on Thursday. Since the kids are starting school again I can get back to rebounding. I should have been doing it all along but got really lazy when I hit that funk a few months ago, when I was still in Independence. I’m sure you’ll find it if you check previous posts. I also need to find some place out here that sells sunflower seeds. I can’t find but one and they only sell small bags. What the fuck? Don’t people on the East Coast ever eat sunflower seeds with the shells on them? Shit, I couldn’t even find seeds without shells at the supermarket today. What gives?

I need my seeds to keep me occupied and full so I won’t eat as much. Then, when I start rebounding again, I won’t have to worry about meals. I’ll have my Carnation Instant Breakfast in the morning, bounce, sunflower seeds, water, maybe another small meal later in the day, and I’m good. That’s what I was doing when I lost the weight a few months ago. Then I funked out and just got really lazy, and all I did then was eat, and eat, and eat… Now I feel gross and want to get rid of the extra weight so I can fit into my jeans this winter. I will not buy bigger jeans when I was wearing the same size for almost the past three years. I’m sticking with what I’ve got. I’m actually enjoying this funk, though, because I don’t feel like eating. That should be a good thing, right? Don’t bug me about it, just tell me how great I look – whether you believe it or not. I don’t mind a little white lie every now and again. It’s the truth that hurts…

I’m just wondering who it hurts. We’re taught as kids to always tell the truth. I teach it to my kids. I really can’t stand lying, though. Any type of lying to me is an instant deal breaker. If we’re friends and you lie to me, I’ve lost trust. You’ll be hard-pressed to get me to trust you again; it’ll take a lot. I’ve actually cut people from my life for lying to me. If and when I’m ready to reconnect, I’ll do it on my terms, not theirs. If we’re not friends and you lie to me, we’ll probably never be friends. On the extremely odd chance that you’re dating me and you lie, you’ll no longer be a part of my life – no questions asked, no second chances.

So back to the truth. Lies obviously hurt people, including the teller. Who actually gets hurt by the truth, though? I’m curious. When a kid tells the truth, he may or may not get into trouble for whatever he said. If he tells mom she’s got a huge ass mom has a choice. She can either, get offended and punish junior for being rude – which I think would be wrong since we’re teaching our kids to tell the truth. Didn’t I already say that? – or mom could just accept the fact that she does have a huge ass and get on with life. In that case I guess it would be junior who gets hurt. But does he really, or does he learn a valuable lesson about keeping quiet under certain circumstances? This is a great debate topic. There are two sides to every argument I can think of and answers to said arguments that I can give. I’m wondering why I never brought up this topic at PACT just to see what people think.

Honestly, though, I’m thinking I don’t really get hurt by the truth. If I have and I’m not saying so, please correct me. My kids have said some mean and hateful things to me and I’ve gotten my feelings hurt but the things they’ve said aren’t the truth – they’re deliberate, ugly words used specifically for the purpose of hurting me. I had previous neighbors tell me what a shitty parent I am (you recall last summer’s bullshit) but that didn’t hurt me either; because it wasn’t true. I’m trying to figure out a time when someone told me the truth and I was hurt by it. I can’t, so please comment with stories of times I’ve been hurt by the truth.

Hell, I was even just thinking that Paul hurt me all the time with his words, but that was never the truth either. I got hurt by it generally because it was designed to kick me when I was already down and to make me feel worse than I already did. Then it was usually followed by a punch, a choke slam, or being thrown across the room. Still, none of it was the truth so I was actually hurt by the lies and physical force behind his hands. That makes sense, right? So again, when does the truth hurt?

I don’t get hurt by my kids because I know they’re only saying mean things because they’re upset and want to hurt me; I don’t get hurt by friends because what they tell me I already know so there’s no reason to get hurt by it. It’s fact, folks; why would I get upset by something I can see right in front of me? Then there’s the hypothetical dating situation. If I’m with a guy who doesn’t want to be with me, am I going to be hurt by it? No. Why would I want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me? That’s one big lesson I learned from Paul. He wants out, let him go. There is, pretty much, nothing Mr. Hypothetical could tell me that I don’t already know about myself. If I know it, it’s true and it shouldn’t hurt. I’m getting repetitive with my examples now. That’s because it’s a no-win argument. We could go back and forth all night long. Whenever you’re ready, let me know; I’ll be happy to debate this with you and I guarantee I’ll make you change your stance by the time we’re finished; or I’ll, at least, make you give up the argument.

The only thing I won’t argue is that I’m tired and want some sleep. I have to actually set my alarm for the morning so I can make sure I get the boys to school on time. I’ll take a first-day picture – as I always do – so you can see how handsome they look. Think about what I said, though, but don’t think too hard; I wouldn’t want anyone to bust anything.

Until next time…peace to all.

Just Griping Again

I did a lot of weeding today and I’m tired. I started somewhere around 8:30 this morning and finished somewhere after 2:00, I think. I got the driveway and the back patio weeded and I got a lot of exercise. Dolly and Zach helped for a bit but they got bored after a short while and moved on to other things. I dressed in my grungiest clothing and got filthy. I’ve also got a monster blister on the inside of my thumb. Hey, what’s the point of hard work if you’re not going to have battle scars? I was very proud of the work I did but now there isn’t anything left for me to do tomorrow (today, actually, it’s 12:13 right now).

I’m starting to get worried about Monday; more for the kids than anything. We knew the routine at their schools in Independence, but things here are a little sketchy. I’m going to have to drop them all off at school and hope there are teachers there to show the kids what to do. They’ll all be getting breakfast so they’ll need to know what to do first and all that. Dolly isn’t actually going until Thursday, then she doesn’t go again until Monday, the 30th. Something about a staggered start giving the teachers a better chance to get to know the kids. Um, okay, whatever they say.

The secretary at Dolly’s school actually told me that Dolly will have to drop by her classroom to tell her teacher she’s going to get breakfast before coming to class. Is this chick serious? This is a four year old. They better have someone there to direct the kids when they walk into the building. Dolly already told me she’s nervous and feeling shy. She won’t speak to anyone on her own and may just burst into tears, knowing her. I hope not, though. I’m sure all the kids will do fine and that my anxiety is just a reflection of my own fear of change. I don’t handle change well at all, and it really sucks.

I’ve got my own shit to plan and get working on once the kids are settled in school. I have to find work, whether it’s something part time while I get the paralegal stuff going, or actually just jumping in with the paralegal stuff right away. I’m confused and not really sure which direction to take. I do know that I need to make up a portfolio of sorts of all the legal documents I prepared while I was in school. I’ll do that for Ellen and me so that we’ve got proof that we can actually do the work. That’ll be a start. After that I’m lost. It’s scary to be lost, dontcha know.

I haven’t worked outside my home since just before Tyler was born. I tried doing medical billing from home but the work they gave me took way too long for the money they paid. Then I didn’t work at all until after Paul left. That’s when I started doing the online tutoring. That was fine for a while but then my classes waned and it wasn’t worth my time to sit and wait, once a week, for one student who may, or may not, arrive at all for the session. Either way, I’ve been home since the beginning of October of 2001. Now I have to head back out into the big bad world to begin earning a living.

What really sucks, and I’m sure I mentioned this, is that Dolly will only be out of the house for three hours every morning. I’m going to have to drive very fast to get done what I need so that I can be here when she gets home. I’ll be in hyper-drive or something. I mean, honestly, what kind of job can I get that I’ll only have to work from 8:45 until 11:30 that will give me enough time to drive back home to get her off the bus, or out of school? It would have to be really close since I’ll be dropping her off at school around 8:40. Okay, so I’ll have to be at work at 8:50, but still. Now do you understand my anxiety?


I was moving here to try and make a better life for us but I’m stuck now and in the exact same position I was in before I moved, worse even. She’s only out of the house for three hours here; in Independence she was gone from 11:40 until 4:30. If they moved her to a morning class this year, I would have had four hours or so to get some work. This is why I say the Universe hates me. I try to do something for the better and It takes my plans, twists them around, and then laughs at me while I panic and sit here in misery. How fair is that, I ask you. I know, nobody said life would be fair. Fuck fair!! When do I get my shot at anything good, where all my plans work out just the way I want them to? Where I don’t have to sit worrying all the time? Where I can just wake up in the morning and say, “Wow, today everything will be fine and will go according to my schedule, just the way I want it.” I can answer that – Never. You know why? Because the Universe hates me.

That’s why I’m destined to be a lonely, bitter, old woman with no cats, one friend, and my kids drawing straws over whose turn it is to call me on Saturday. We’ve been through this, just the other night, remember? Actually I can’t even be bitter since I know it’s going to happen. And my one friend (Ellen) will have her own, exciting, life and won’t really have time for me; and who can blame her? Even Sonny won’t talk to me anymore. How many young guys do you know who want to hang around with their mom’s friends? Um, none. Sure, he’ll have distant memories of the lady who watched football with him, once upon a time, and he may even ask Ellen, once or twice, about “the lady who lived with us that time. Bertha, I think her name was…” See, people won’t even remember my name. I see how it is.

Ugh, major funk setting in again – still. So be it. At least I have, will have, my readers; those I imagine are actually reading what I write. Hey, a girl’s gotta have a dream, right? If my dream is to imagine that people actually read me, then that’s how it is. I’ve got no fantasy men to dream about, and I don’t play the lottery, so this will have to do. When you’re me, you can judge; until then, zip it. Maybe tomorrow I'll have something more fun to write about; perhaps I'll even make you laugh. I’m out of words now, though, so I’m going to bed. PLEH!

Until next time…peace to all.

A Little Better

It might, technically, be Saturday, but this is still Friday’s post. I do hope there aren’t any problems with that. If so, I guess you’ll just have to move on to something else. Anyway, I’m feeling a little better today; not 100%, but I’m making progress. This morning started off really badly. Zach woke me at 7:22 to find out if we were going to Wal-Mart to get school clothing. I really hadn’t planned on it since I’ll be getting them a bunch next month but I took them to each get a couple of things. His attitude was the pits when we got back and my head was ready to explode.

Ellen actually called me on the phone to invite me into her room for us to chat. We discussed what was going on with the kids and she offered to speak to them about all the changes we’ve made and how it’s affecting all of us. Go to it. When I ran out to CVS she had a chat with the kids so we’ll see how that works. It was hard to tell if it made any difference today because they were pretty occupied with playing outside then with Sonny and video games, but this evening they were wired. I couldn’t wait for bedtime for them just so I could relax in the peace and quiet. Ellen and I even got a chance to talk without the kids constantly interrupting. That was nice.

I don’t know if I’m more up today because the kids appeared a bit calmer, if I’m not stressing about having anything to do because it’s the weekend or because I got some stress relief of my own. Ellen had mowed the front lawn and, while she was mowing the back yard, I was sweeping up the walk in the front, and weeding it along the way. I was even weeding the gutter. Mind you, I don’t like gardening at all but I was actually having fun today. Zach just couldn’t understand how I could be having fun sweeping and pulling weeds so I explained to him that I was getting exercise, relaxing, and making the front yard look nice all at the same time. Fighting with the weeds was actually challenging but, since I was winning, I was enjoying it.

By the time I was finished I was a grungy mess; dirt from head to toe, sweaty, sticky, and I even had a blister on my thumb. The skin was almost off and, since it grosses me out to take care of my own injuries (I can take care of anyone’s but my own), Sonny pulled the skin off of it for me. Now it hurts like a fuddrucker but I’ll live with it. I’ve birthed three children; I don’t think one little blister will be the end of me. Tomorrow I’ll have more fun weeding the driveway. I can’t wait and have even laid out my weeding outfit. I’m not wearing my good clothing to play in the dirt so I found the worst outfit I can find for my day in the sun. Maybe I’ll even get a tan; won’t that be nice?

So, it’s short and sweet tonight; not much to say but wanted to let everyone know that I am feeling better, and hope to continue on an upward swing. I can’t stand being in a funk, and I know my kids read it and that affects them also – probably doesn’t help them stay in good moods which turns their behavior rancid. Even me faking it doesn’t help, kids can see right past that. Anyway, going to get some rest now and prepare for my gardening tasks tomorrow. I’m sure the kids will be up early so I’ll have to get them breakfast and then settled into doing something before I can get started. Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll let me before it gets too hot outside and I roast on the driveway. Fingers crossed.

Until next time…peace to all.

I Feel Like Crap

I feel like shit; I am falling into a severe depression and can’t seem to stop it. My kids are constantly fighting and ignoring me; Zach seems to think that I’m his verbal punching bag; Dolly continues to act like a little brat; and Ty just wants to be the boss of everyone – and I have no say in any of it. Regardless of how much I say or do, and regardless of what consequences are given to them, their behavior isn’t changing. They’re not respecting me or Ellen or Sonny or the house. It’s not fair to Ellen, after her letting us move here you’d think my kids would be a little more grateful and would try harder to do the right thing. Nope. “Fuck you mom, you can’t make us do anything you stupid bitch.” Do they actually say that, no; but that’s what I hear.

I’m spending my time thinking I made a mistake coming here, letting the kids be closer to Paul, adding more to the their anxieties by moving them from everything they knew, moving me from everything I knew. I feel lost and out of control and I’m sure they can sense that, and it’s making them worse. I can’t stop crying, I have no appetite, I don’t want to be around anyone but I don’t want to be alone, and whatever the kids do makes me angry, even if it’s just regular kid stuff. The problem is that everything they do seems amplified to me and there is no volume control.

I want things to get better for us but it’s not happening at lightning speed and I can’t make it go any faster. I know, I can’t control everything but I feel like I’m losing my footing and there is nobody to catch me and nothing to cushion my fall. Remember the analogy I made that Ellen and I said we constantly feel like we’re at the bottom of a well and every time we get a handhold someone pours oil down so we end up falling or having to move sideways? Well, now, every time the oil comes down on me I slip further down and there is no floor underneath me. All around me is black with only little flashes of light to make me see the handholds I’m missing as I fall. I can’t stop and I’m getting bumped and bruised along the way.

I don’t like feeling like this, and I’m sure nobody does. I’m just tired of not feeling good or right or on target about what I’m doing. I’m tired of questioning my own actions and decisions. I actually want to make a decision that makes me feel as if I’m moving in the right direction; like I’m not missing the handholds on the walls of a well. I was wondering today what would have happened had we stayed in Independence. Nothing major for another year, I can say that much. I would have had to sit at home while the kids were in school unless Dolly got put into a morning Headstart class. If she did, I’d be able to work at something, anyway, to bring in an income. If she was still in afternoons, I’d be able to volunteer at their schools again and would have to wait until she went into Kindergarten next year before I could start working.

As it is, Dolly can’t get into Headstart here because, even though it’s a Federal program and she’s already qualified, I still have to reapply her and put her on the waiting list. There is no way she’ll make it there this year and that sucks. Strike one for me, I fucked that up for her. So she has to go into Pre-school where I didn’t want her since it’s a shorter day with a less academic curriculum. She’ll be going from 8:30 to 11:30. Actually, she’ll get on the bus at 8:30 and she’ll get on the return bus at 11:30 to arrive home at 11:40. How much can I get done in three hours? Not fucking much at all. Three hours – I didn’t see that one coming. Strike two for me. And the people running the school system out here need to get their shit together. At the same time I’m supposed to be putting Dolly on her bus, I’m supposed to be getting the boys to their school. HUH!!!??? I’m guessing they can’t clone me to be in two different places at once, so the only other thing I can think of is to a) make sure all the kids will get breakfast at school and then b) drive the boys first and Dolly immediately afterward. This is really going to suck.

I have decided that, when I can get housing assistance, I’ll make sure to move, at least, two miles away from here so that all the kids can get bussed to and from school. Tomorrow I’ll have to start calling the agencies that can help with housing assistance to find out where I can move to so I can make sure the kids will go to the same schools. I don’t want them to be moving between schools after the school year starts. That really wouldn’t be fair to them, but, I’ve already fucked things up for them so what’s one more item? I figure they’ll bounce back the way I did after my mother moved me all over the fucking nation when I was a kid. Shit, my kids are young, they’ll get over it. Right? Sure they will.

So that’s it. I feel like crap all the time. Maybe it’ll be good for me, though. Not eating is sure to help me lose that extra 25 pounds I gained just sitting around last year. I feel like I’m going to throw up every time I’m near food or think about eating. At least this year, though, when I volunteer at the schools, I can leave extra early and walk. The boys’ school last year was about a seven-minute walk. This year I have farther to go so I’ll burn more calories. I’m sure to be down to a size six in no time. I’ll keep you posted on that. Maybe it’ll cheer me up when I can actually fit into my jeans again. I don’t know why it would, though, I’m the only one who’ll appreciate it. Whatever. I’m tired of complaining for tonight. I'm listening to Esther Hicks; maybe she'll give me some inspiration. She usually does, but, we'll see.

Until next time…peace to all.

Another Pity Party; and Probably Repetitive

I’m reading a book that I borrowed from Ellen and I came across a line in it tonight that made me want to put down the book for good. “How can you believe in love?” That’s what the character in the book wanted to know. I can answer that question for me, and the answer is “I can’t.” I can believe in the kind of love that occurs between parent and child or between friends. I can’t believe in the kind of love that occurs between mates. I don’t think it exists; not for me anyway. “Gee, I can see why,” you’re saying to yourself, “This chick is so negative all the time it’s a wonder anyone wants to be around her at all.” What-the-fuck-ever. I’m in a bad mood today; I’ve had a shitty day today and I have the right to be negative if I want to be negative.

My kids are treating me like shit and lacking all respect for everyone in the household. If this is what I have to face whenever they have a visit with their dad, something has to be done. I can’t do this every month. Regardless, back to the subject at hand, now you’re saying, “But you’re always negative about the subject of love.” I have that right, too. I’ve never had real love in my life, and I wouldn’t know true love if it walked up and slapped me in the face. I don’t think I even know how to love anyone other than my children and my real friends. The men I’ve been in relationships with all claimed to love me but I always thought “true love” was supposed to be unconditional. None of my so-called mates ever loved me unconditionally, nor I them. I did in the beginning, I think, until they all started to want to change me in some way. Then I decided that I didn’t like being treated that way and tried to rectify it. When it never worked, my “love” faded and that shouldn’t happen, right? I honestly don’t know.

Someone asked me one night what my idea of a perfect mate would be and I honestly couldn’t answer because the only thing I’ve ever learned about love and relationships that is positive is what I’ve seen in the movies and on TV. That’s my only frame of reference for this particular topic and my only basis for comparison. I know that people all have little idiosyncrasies that their mate is supposed to accept and perhaps even find endearing. I’ve never known that toward or from anyone. All of my relationships have always had some element of abusive behavior in them whether it was mental, emotional, verbal, or physical; one or more always played a part in my life. My last relationship, the one with my ex-husband, was the worse and contained all the elements of abuse at once. So now I don’t even want to be in a relationship at all. What happens if the next one is worse than the last?

Yes, I know the red flags to look for in a potentially abusive relationship; I know the patterns of behavior to be aware of, and the twists and turns a guy will take to get his foot in the door of his potential victim. Still, what if those flags appear and I take the initiative and decide to get out sooner rather than later, but the dude turns into a psycho instantly? What if he decides to begin the true abuse earlier than he regularly would simply because I told him things weren’t working between us? What if he’s worse than my ex? I won’t be able to deal with that, nor can I take the chance that my kids will end up being involved somehow, some way. That wouldn’t be fair to them after all they’ve been through so far. I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than to risk getting into a worse relationship than the last one I left. As and added bonus, not only do I not risk an abusive relationship, I also don't risk getting hurt emotionally; that means, no broken heart. What I've got left is being held together by the smallest of threads; I'm not taking any chances.

Granted, given what I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s not likely that I’d stumble back into an abusive scenario, but you never can tell. I might be at a low point in my life and just happen to meet the wrong guy at the right time. “Stop thinking like that,” you’re saying, “that won’t happen. You’ll meet a really great guy someday; someone you deserve and who deserves you.” Blah, blah, blah… Okay, sure. And I should believe you why? Besides, meeting someone is not likely to happen when the only places I go are to the supermarket and the kids’ schools – well, the kids’ schools starting soon. I run errands and come home. Even when I start working – which I have to develop a plan for soon, by the way, because I have to get out there into the paralegal world to start offering my services – I’ll be meeting people that I’ll be working with and dating them doesn’t fly with me. Once I get my own place I’ll have the kids to take care of and work to do so that’ll leave little free time to socialize. So what am I worried about? I guess nothing, since there won’t really be an opportunity for me to “get out there and mingle.”

Am I looking for your sympathy? Nope, don’t need it. I’m just feeling really ugly today after the way the kids have been treating me and there’s nothing like a good dose of PTSD to bring back all the shitty things that have happened in my life. This is my time to sit and wallow in my own pathetic misery and to feel sorry for myself. I don’t even have anyone to dream about; did you know that? You know how most people have an idol or icon or someone famous that they fantasize about? I don’t. There isn’t anyone worthwhile, in my opinion, for me to dream about in my quiet time. In order to fall asleep, I have to go shopping in my head or something equally boring. I’m not asking for your sympathy, empathy, condolences, words of wisdom, sarcastic remarks, or even a tissue. I just wanted to vent and to let the world know that I plan on growing old by myself; not even with a pet around. Once my current cats are gone, there’ll be no more pets for me.

Thirty years from now I’ll be sitting alone in my home watching TV, waiting for my usual Saturday evening phone call from one of my kids; whichever kid is scheduled to call that week after they’ve all drawn straws. Otherwise I’ll just mosey back and forth from the kitchen to the living room waiting for the sun to rise and set each day. Maybe I’ll talk to Ellen occasionally, but she’ll probably be busy with her man and her life. (No, she doesn’t have one right now; we’re talking future, folks.) I’ll have to take up a hobby or something so I’ll be able to keep my mind occupied and alert; otherwise my kids will put me in a home and then I’ll never hear from them again. Perhaps I can learn to play Bridge. No, that won’t work, you need four people to play it and I only have one friend. That sucks. Okay, so I can spend my time playing Solitaire. Yep, that’ll work. That’s why the game was invented right; for the lonely?

Anyway, I think I’m done ranting for now. I just get tired of being treated like crap and not knowing what to do about it or how to make myself feel better about it. What is a highlight, though, is that I know some really great people who so totally deserve to have true love and happiness in their lives. Those people will absolutely make great spouses one day and will be a delight to whoever falls in love with them. Maybe I’ll even get to attend the weddings; dateless, of course. At least I’ll have something to look forward to in life, though. For now, however, I’m outta here and ready to continue being ignored and treated like shit by my kids.

Until next time…peace to all.

I Fucked Up And I'm Sorry

I fucked up today, and I take full responsibility. No excuses, no nothing – I fucked up. It’s as simple as that. The kids and I went to my WIC appointment and they were rowdy and noisy and loud and didn’t listen to me when I asked them, repeatedly, to please keep the noise down. I was angry and I feel I had a right to be. We left the WIC office, got into the van and drove to the supermarket so I could get stuff for dinner and some other things. I told the kids I wasn’t happy with their behavior but they didn’t seem to care. At the supermarket Zach and Dolly got into a huge fight over the buggy; not just and argument but a screaming match. I just gave up then and there. I told them that I wanted to get something for dinner but we were finished after that. As I started to walk away Dolly started screaming at me not to leave (as if I was going to) and Zach started screaming at me that I shouldn’t have made Dolly cry. FUCK THAT!! All I wanted to do was a little food shopping and they ruined it with their disrespect of my rules.

So I made my way around the store, looking for what I needed to make dinner, with Zach following me the whole time telling me what a bad person I am. I paid for my items and we left with him still telling me what a shit I am. We got into the van and he started telling me, no screaming at me, that he “should have stayed with Dad instead of coming back to you!!” Wow; how’s that for a kick in the teeth. To his comments I replied that I needed to go buy a pack of cigarettes with Zach telling me (screaming at me) that I couldn’t do that because they weren’t healthy. So I started to drive home telling him what a mean little brat he was being and how he needed to go to his room when we got home so I didn’t have to be around him. It was about then that I decided that I needed a drink. When we walked in the door I realized it was 11:35 in the morning. No drinks for me. Imagine that. I couldn’t smoke so I wanted to drink – and it wasn’t even lunch time.

I sent Zach to his room and Dolly to hers (for her part in the fight at the supermarket). They both went with Zach spewing his disgusting insults at me the entire time. I told Dolly what time she could come out of the room and she agreed to stay put – it was only 15 minutes but she needed the consequence to understand that her behavior wasn’t acceptable. Zach just went to his room – I’m sure cursing me under his breath. Whatever. I went downstairs and paced, and wondered how terrible it would be of me if I bought a pack of smokes. I gave up on the idea because I didn’t want to be in the car with the kids for any length of time after what I’d already endured.

After a short while things seemed to settle down and we all had lunch. I made sandwiches for everyone and the boys began to tell me some of the things that had happened with their dad; not pleasant things I might add. Just basic shit but things I felt the need to correct and things I had to tell them were against their basic rights. As an example: Paul forced them to get haircuts even after they protested that they didn’t want haircuts. Paul said it was his rule that they had to get haircuts before school started whether the kids wanted them or not. I had just cut their hair before we left MO. The kids realized, after us talking, that Paul does a lot of things for his own purposes regardless of what anyone else thinks – including his own kids. They realized that he wanted to have things done his way and didn’t care what they thought or wanted. That’s fucking sad, isn’t it; kids having to realize, at such a young age, that their dad is a shit? Maybe Paul will realize that he created the scenario and only he is to blame. Guess what? NOT!!!

Anyway, I digress. After our talk over lunch things seemed to be progressing well until some other shit happened and Zach started his bullshit with me all over again; and again; and again… How much abuse and disrespect do I have to take before I say I’ve had enough? Apparently not as much as Zach can dish. I basically wasn’t speaking to him for a good long while and sat in the kitchen, alone, crying until around 3:30 when I decided it was time for that drink I so desperately wanted. I even added extra Vodka. Just about the time I poured my first one, Ellen and Sonny came in and Ellen told me she’d had a bad day too. Alright then; negativity was in the air. She went upstairs, as did Sonny, my kids were in the living room watching TV and I remained in the kitchen crying and drinking and seriously craving a cigarette like nobody’s business.

After about a half hour, I’d had three of my drinks – I think I’ve described them before; a 32oz. glass filled with ice and with a shot (or three) of Vodka in the bottom that is then covered with juice (of any kind). It makes for a nice mellow most days; today, when I was drinking them quickly, it made for a nice drunk. I was still sitting in the kitchen drinking when Sonny came down to chat and shortly there after I went up to Ellen’s room to talk to her. There I just couldn’t resist and this is where I fucked up badly. I smoked one of her cigarettes. She didn’t blame me and neither should you. After the shit I’d been through with my kids I deserved one. Then I had another, and another. By the end of the night I probably smoked six or seven. That really sucks. I can’t believe I screwed up so badly.

Sonny kept telling me that it was okay that I’d have to own up to it on my blog. That I can do but I can’t undo the huge error in judgment I made. I was doing so well and now I have to start the clock all over again. That really sucks. I wish I could put the blame on someone else but I can’t. I knew I shouldn’t have done it; and I kept telling myself that I could get past the urge but I gave in instead. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry that I couldn’t deal with the shit that Paul put on my kids; I’m sorry that I couldn’t deal with the shit that my kids put on me; and I’m sorry that I couldn’t live up to the promise to myself that when I quit in April it would be for good. It’s not that I’ve started smoking again, and, after tonight I’ll be done with it – I hope – for good. I just can’t believe that I let this same bullshit get in the way of my goals.

Zach’s tantrums and hateful words had me filled with flashbacks and the PTSD and physiological responses were coming faster than I could stop or control them. I honestly didn’t know what to do. I never even think of drinking first thing in the morning so I was completely surprised when we arrived home and I realized what time it was. Having a smoke was my second option but I thought I could just sit there and let it pass. I thought wrong. I could have just let it pass but I chose not to. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I don’t even know how to express it. I feel like I cheated myself out of something great and now I can’t get it back. I’ll never get it back; I’ll just have to start over. So, starting tomorrow – or later today, I should say – I’ll be starting from day one again. Maybe this time I can actually accomplish something that I start. Fingers crossed.

Until next time…peace to all.

The War Over Money

I’m still waiting for my Comcast refund. It’s not much but why don’t I have it yet? It really irks me since I always had to pay my bill to them on time or face consequences. Not only did I have to pay on time, but I was paying for the month IN ADVANCE. I have to pay for use of a service a month ahead but when I’m due a refund I have to wait until they feel like sending it to me. What the fuck is that all about, I ask you. It seems as if we’re at the mercy of the corporate world when it comes to paid services.

If my Comcast service was fucked up, I had to call them to make an appointment to have it fixed, but the appointment had to be at Comcast’s convenience. I could call on Saturday and hear, “Well, I have an open appointment next Tuesday from 8:00 to noon or on Wednesday from noon to five. Either of those or I also have Friday all day.” I guess that’s supposed to make me feel good; like they’re doing me a favor leaving the choice up to me. Guess what? None of those times is good for me. I don’t want to have to sit at home for four to five hours, or all day even, waiting for their tech to show up at my house. It’s great that they’ll call me to tell me the tech “will be there within the hour” but I’ve already wasted those previous hours waiting for that phone call.

No!! I want an evening appointment from 6:30 to 7:00 when I know that I’ll be home and will be available for the tech to visit me. And I want him there on Monday if he really can’t be there on Sunday (which would be more preferable for me); I don’t want to wait until Tuesday or later. I’ve already paid for my service; why should I have to wait to have it repaired? If I have to wait, I want a substantial credit for those lost days of service, not just a measly $20 because that’s what Comcast thinks is reasonable.

The gas and electric companies never made me wait for service if there was trouble. MGE, the gas company rushed right over because I smelled gas in my home and had a minor gas leak in my kitchen; I’m sure they would have made me wait otherwise. But it’s the point; no waiting. The electric company, IPL, told me it was my responsibility to turn on the main circuit breaker to my home – the one outside the house that is only supposed to be touched by the electric company techs – even though it was raining and I’m too short to reach it. I had to stand on my toes and punch it with the side of my fist, a couple of times until I actually bruised my hand, to get the power back on in my home. They were very quick to offer their services: “You can call your maintenance office and have a worker turn it on for you.” Thanks IPL, I’ll do just that. Maintenance at Hawthorne Place Apartments and Townhomes sucks balls. When I left at the end of July they still hadn’t replaced my sliding screen door with a proper one and that was on a work order that had been opened two years prior. I’m sure they would’ve run right over to turn my circuit breaker back on for me. (Can you read the sarcasm in all of this?)

It just really irks me that we have to pay bills on time or risk losing service or having late charges tacked on to our accounts yet companies that owe us money can take their sweet-ass time getting it back to us. Shit, even doctors’ offices tell us we have to cancel 24 hours in advance or risk being billed for a missed appointment. Do I get to charge the doctor when he or she is running late or has to cancel because of an emergency patient? I’m thinking that I should get, at least, half of what he or she would be charging me for a completed visit. I can’t really charge the entire fee since I don’t have the degree or expertise that the doctor has but still, half would be fair, right? I think so but I don’t think they do. My time is, quite apparently, not as important as the doctor’s time.

I did it again, didn’t I? I started talking about one thing and ended up on another. At least I’m still on topic, though. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? I was talking about my Comcast refund that still hasn’t arrived yet. I’ll have to call them tomorrow and see what’s what. I also have to call CSE to find out where my child support is. I should have received it Friday but didn’t. I’m thinking that, because I changed my direct deposit info to the new bank account CSE is trying to verify the account so they’re delaying my payment. If they are, that really sucks because I’m down to no money right now. Someone in the State of Missouri needs to get their head out of their ass and get some money heading my way. I can’t stand having to wait on other people, especially when I’m supposed to benefit from it. Fuck them; it’s mine and I want it. They can either give it to me or I’ll call them constantly asking for it, the way bill collectors call me wanting their money. All is fair in love and war, right? Well, I couldn’t care less about love; but I will go to war over my money. I’ll let you know what happens with that.

Until next time…peace to all.

Time For Some Research and Action

Everyone says that their children’s behavior changes after a visit with the other parent, and I agreed – for a while. When my ex lived nearby and would pick up the boys for a visit, they’d come back needing severe attitude adjustments. By the time I had them behaving the way they should they were off to another visit. It was just a vicious cycle. I’m not sure what to do now, though. The kids were gone for two weeks and came back…the same but worse, if that makes any sense.

Yesterday they were fine. They were happy to be back, still argued with me but not much – they’re kids, they’re going to argue. The first day back went great. Today, though, things changed. Regardless of what I asked them to do I had to repeat myself over and over like I was talking to a brick wall. I had to have numerous discussions with them on the rules of the house when they’re with me. When I say numerous, I mean just that. I must have discussed things with them, at least, six times today. These are the same discussions I’ve had in the past but maybe only every couple of months. It’s basic kid stuff but also basic manners and behavior. “We don’t run in the house,” “We wash our own dishes,” “We don’t hit other people,” (Ty’s good for that one but I had to speak to Zach and Dolly about it a few times today). Like I said, it’s basic kid stuff but I shouldn’t have to have “family meetings” that often in one day. It’s almost like they forgot how to follow any rules while they were gone.

The only thing I can think of that might account for it is the way they were treated while they were with their dad. They’re taking their anxieties out on me. Remember I said I’m not one to interrogate my kids, and I didn’t. What did happen was that Ty was being very rude to me over something really minute. So rude, in fact, that I had to close his bedroom door to discuss the issue with him – my simple “This is unacceptable; I’d like you to check your attitude” wasn’t working. He was actually staring at me like I’d just burned his favorite toys. When I closed his bedroom door to talk about it, he let fly. He started telling me how horribly he was treated by his dad. I called Zach into the room to make sure I had all the details and that what Ty was telling me was accurate. Most of it was and I was in tears.

Their dad basically “terrorized” them in the sense that he was constantly yelling and screaming at them; talking down about me to them; threatening them with never seeing me again; and other similar things. There’s nothing I can prove, nor is there anything I can say to him without him taking his shit out on the kids. I do have a plan, though, although I won’t spell it out here. Just suffice it to say that I’m going to do what I can to protect my kids from that ever happening again. I don’t have any specifics in place yet, but I’ll do my research and find out what their rights are as far as the State of Maryland is concerned, then I’ll take action.

I do know that they haven’t been getting enough sleep. You remember that they were up until midnight that one night, right? Well, they got back yesterday and by the time we ate dinner (he hadn’t fed them all day long), got a chance to visit, and had the wind down, it was late before they went to bed and even later before they got up this morning. My kids are never asleep past 7:00a.m. but when I woke up this morning at 7:00, I heard Zach walking toward my room. He fell asleep again for over an hour. Tyler was still asleep, Zach had to wake him; and Dolly was still asleep at 9:00 when I came upstairs to get her. That’s a first for them. I made them dinner tonight at a reasonable hour – around 5:00; after which they had showers, then their bedtime snack, and settled in for bed. At 8:00 I told them all to lie down to get some sleep. Dolly was asleep in a matter of seconds, Ty is already asleep and it’s only 8:40 and Zach is the only one still awake but will be asleep shortly. Tyler never falls asleep before 10:00 which should say something about him falling asleep so early tonight. That tells me they didn’t get much sleep while they were away. They’re back home now, and since school starts next week, they’ll be going to bed at a decent hour every night, whether they like it or not. That was another argument we had. I was putting them to bed early. Oh well, children need to be properly rested to stay healthy.

I found out a few other things from them this afternoon, just in passing conversation, and there was some mention of others yesterday while we were at McDonald’s for dinner. (I made tuna casserole tonight so they wouldn’t have to eat burgers and fries again and Zach and Dolly both ate two bowls full.) So I really need to research the law to find out what, if any of what they told me, I can actually do anything about. I won’t know until I do a lot of reading. I just makes me sick, though, that I should even have to do anything like that. You’d think that any reasonable adult would try to do the right thing so as not to get into trouble. Not my ex; he just does what he wants regardless of the consequences. I’m guessing he forgot what my degree is in or he’d stop and think before he does any of the shit he does. Whatever. That’s him and he’s not going to change, nor can I control him. I can control me, though; and I intend to do what I can at this point so my kids never again have to go through what they went through this past couple of weeks.

Enough of my griping, though; I’m sure you didn’t tune in to hear me complaining, although I’ve done it before and if I can’t complain to you folks, what good is my blog, right? Anyway, I’m going to get started on my research and let you all get back to whatever it was you were doing before you checked my post. I’ll try to think of something more interesting for tomorrow.

Until next time…peace to all.

The Kids Are Home

My kids are home!!! They got here about 5:00 this evening; they should have been here around 12:30 but, according to Paul, they left late then got stuck in traffic the entire ride here. Gee, thanks for calling to tell me so I didn’t sit here and worry that something happened along the way. Not only did he not call to tell me they left almost three hours after he originally told me they were leaving, but he didn’t feed them all day long. He said they got in the truck and fell asleep right away. So they hadn’t eaten since they ate last yesterday; you would think that, after he saw the amount of traffic on the roads, he would stop and, at least, get them a snack of some sort. Whatever. He got them here, we packed out the truck, he said goodbye to the kids, and then the kids and I went to McDonald’s for dinner. I was going to take them to a small restaurant but they saw Mickey-D’s first and decided that’s what they wanted. So be it, as long as they ate.

We got home and put their stuff away then Tyler discovered the balcony outside their room. He also found the Legos Sonny said they could play with and fell in love with them. He and the Legos were on the balcony while Zach, Dolly, and I were in the yard playing with Chance, Ellen’s dog. The kids were having a great time throwing Chance’s tennis ball and having him bring it back to them. They actually tired out the puppy; but Chance loved every minute of it. We finally came in when the mosquitoes came out in full force.

Tyler stayed upstairs playing while Dolly sat with me and watched TV. Zach floated up and down, not quite being able to decide what to do. Then I put a movie in for the boys so he hung out with Ty in their room. I did tell them, though, that since it was their first night home I’d allow them to stay up a little later to say hi to Ellen and Sonny when they got home but it was up to bed shortly there afterwards. They agreed but are still awake. This sucks because they slept most of the way in the truck on the way home so they’re wired. I don’t know how this is going to work for future visits with them sleeping most of Sunday on their ride back and having to get up for school the next day when they can’t go to sleep at a regular bedtime. We’ll see and I’ll deal with it when it happens.

Anyway, Ellen and Sonny got home, the kids said hello to both of them before Sonny headed back out the door. Ellen and I chatted for a while before deciding it was time to turn in for the evening. I put the kids to bed then stood talking to her for a while before coming to my room to make my evening post. The boys are still awake (Zach and I just had an argument over the fact that 11:00p.m. is not the time to be eating regardless of the fact that Dad didn’t feed them all day and they only had one meal and a few snacks with me.), and Dolly is dozing in our room. With luck she’ll be asleep soon; she was getting a bit antsy herself and was on the verge of a tantrum over the same food issue Zach was having.

It is great having them home, though. Tomorrow we’re going to get them school supplies since school starts in a week. These are free so whatever I still need from the list afterward will be bought at Wal-Mart or Dollar General. (Did I mention that I found Dollar General out here? I was in Heaven.) Zach just wants to go shopping for school clothes. He’s got tons of clothes so I don’t know what the big deal is. We’ll figure something out next week. I’m just happy things are getting back to the way they should be. I missed them terribly and Dolly is following me around like a lost puppy; but I am thrilled to be getting hugs and kisses again. I think that’s what I missed most.

Until next time…peace to all.

Vacation's Over

So tonight was my last night of freedom – so to speak; my babies are coming home tomorrow. I’ve missed them very much and can’t wait to see them. After last week’s issue with Dolly and Zach crying to come home, I’m wondering how things actually went over there but I don’t dare ask. I’ve never been the type to interrogate my kids when they’ve had a visit with their dad. Eventually, whatever happened will be revealed, as the kids see fit. I’ll just deal with the problems as they arise.

For me the past two weeks have been really fun. I’ve gotten to do things I haven’t gotten to do in a long time. I’ve gone to dinner in real restaurants – the kinds of places where someone actually takes my order, brings my food, and takes my plate away when I’ve finished eating. It wasn’t all just fast food with burgers and fries. I also got to sit with grown-ups and have grown-up conversations – without kidnapping or restraining any of the adults and forcing them to listen to me blather on about anything I could think of at the time. I’ve never really done that, but it sure has felt like it in the past. Whenever a neighbor would drop over for a few minutes, I always felt like I was hi-jacking the conversation and couldn’t seem to stop talking. That’s what happens when you only have kids to talk to day in and day out and the conversations are about SpongeBob, princesses, dinosaurs, and who did what to whom. Now, though, I’ve got big people to talk to whenever I want, and it feels really good.

While the kids were away Ellen and I went to a bar to see a local band play; she, Sonny and I have gone to different restaurants to eat occasionally; we all sat at the dining room table one night and played games; Sonny and I went out to dinner and a movie while Ellen had a meeting here at the house; and Ellen even taught me to play Backgammon the other night. That was fun; I’ve never played before but had a great time learning. Sonny and I have watched movies and stand-up comedy on TV so all my television did not revolve around children’s television or Nickelodeon; although today I did watch “Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who.” It was the animated one with Jim Carrey voicing Horton; I just love that movie.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the kids and have missed them, but I needed a break desperately. All parents need breaks from their kids now and then. The break gave me a chance to get most of the administrative things done for us without having to cart the kids around, and it gave me a chance to regroup and realign myself. I had to have the time to regenerate myself after three years of being with the kids all the time. I’m sure you understand. I feel better now, though, and am ready to take on Mommy responsibilities once again. To celebrate my “last night of freedom” Ellen took me out to eat at a Japanese restaurant called Miyako, where they make the food at the table. You’ve all seen them. We had a blast, not only eating some wonderful food but, making fun of some of the people at our table. It was a great way to end my vacation.

The great thing about being here now is that, at least, once a month, Paul will be getting the kids for a weekend. He’s already planning to get them the weekend of his birthday in September so I can make plans to do something grown-up again. That’ll be nice for me and them to get away from each other once in a while. A bonus is that, when they go to bed in the evenings, I’ll still have someone here to talk to, unlike when I lived in Independence and only had me, myself, and I to chat when the house was quiet. That will change, though, when we get our own place. I’ll be back to putting the kids to bed and sitting by myself at night. I’m not going to think about that now, though; it’ll just bring me down and I don’t want that. I’ve had a great two weeks, I’ve gotten a lot done, and I’m ready to resume my life with my kids. I can’t wait for the hugs, kisses, chatter, noise, laughter, and, of course, the fights. It’s what being a parent is all about, right? In any case, after tonight, I’ll be catching you all up on the happenings with the kids and the rest of the things we have to do before school starts, and after. When I have a free weekend I’ll let you know, of course, but, for now, life as I know it will resume starting tomorrow. I can’t wait!!!

Until next time…peace to all.