WOW, I Have Memories

I don’t know what the heck it happening to me but I think it might be a good thing. I don’t know if you recall, but months ago I had written that a lot of my good memories as a kid and teenager were interrupted so I was either missing a lot of memories or had only parts of them because of the PTSD I suffered as a kid and an adult. Well, for whatever reason, some of them from my late teenage years are creeping back in suddenly. Not that they’re suddenly popping back into my head like flashes of lightning; they’re coming back slowly. By suddenly I meant that just out of the blue they started reforming, I guess you would call it.

Mind you, these are not memories from when I was a child; the only memories I have as a kid – before the age of ten – are, for the most part, negative. I can count on both hands the number of positive memories I have before then. Before I was ten was before my dad (my stepfather, but the only dad I’ve ever known) came into our lives. Before that it was just my sister, my mom and me. That should tell you what a negative influence my mother was on my life in my early years. Most of my memories from three to ten range from negative up to horrific. Regardless, after my dad was in my life, things improved to a point. I still have mostly negative shit in my head, but there are more positive things than there were before then.

I stray again, however. By now you should be used to my fucked-up thought processes. I was just telling Ellen, the other day about how my friend S. and I used to go out cruising in her car after we got our licenses. We didn’t have many friends and mainly just hung out together – this is at the end of high school. We’d just go driving around the neighborhoods in our area, and would occasionally dance in the street if a good song came on the radio. Ellen and I were in the car, going somewhere, when Madonna’s song “Borderline” came on and threw that memory into my head. Go figure.

I’ve noticed it happening a lot lately. I get a lot of time to listen to the radio now that I have to drive the kids back and forth to school. I haven’t really listened to the radio much in the past six years, or so, because I wasn’t really in the car and I was always too busy to put it on in the house. Regardless, a couple of the stations I’ve found out here play a lot of what today’s twenty-somethings call “the oldies” – music from when I was between 12 and 25. “My Sharona” came on one morning and shot me back to the seventh grade almost instantly. I started thinking about things that I had completely forgotten had happened way back then. Some of them were nice, some not so nice. Still, they were memories reinstating themselves into my head.

My counselor back in Independence once explained to me how the memory thing works but I can’t remember it exactly. She said something about all memories being stored in one particular spot in the brain, but that when something tragic happens the memories get split apart and go floating to other parts of the brain so they never really come together. It’s supposedly a defense mechanism in the brain designed to keep the tragedy from repeating itself to the memory owner. The problem with it is that, once the memories are split, the person, me, tends to have only physiological responses when something causes one portion of that memory to trigger which is the essence of PTSD.

For example, I’m claustrophobic (afraid of closed spaces). When I was three, one of the early stepfathers I had was abusive to me – in every sense of the word. My mother worked nights so he had free reign when she wasn’t there. One of the things he’d do was lock me in my bedroom closet and make me stand there facing the back wall. All I can remember is being made to stand there. I can’t remember him saying anything or how I ever got out of the closet. I just remember him making me stand there, and I was terrified. I’m not afraid of the dark, but I can’t stand being crowded or being locked in a small space. Perhaps, if I could get the entire memory of the closet incident put back together in my brain I wouldn’t be so afraid of situations like that any more.

My counselor also told me, when I brought up the subject of not being able to remember a good portion of my life, that I’d had so much bad stuff going on in my life that my brain wasn’t able to hold on to any of the good stuff either because the good and bad were taking place at the same time. That makes sense. It was hard to have many friends when my narcissistic mother was constantly in the way of it all. I mean, fuck, I was talking to my sister about four months ago discussing the time she’d moved out of the family home and then back again. Believe it or not, there is a two-year gap in my memory. She says she moved out and moved back in two years later, then moved out again a few months after that. I have absolutely no recollection of the two years she was out of the house. I thought, and still do think, that she moved out and moved back in a few months later. I’ll have to confirm that with her because I think I’m still getting it wrong. I’ll let you know when I find out from her.

Anyway, like I said, some of my lost memories are starting to come back to me, and I’m finding it quite pleasant. Every time I hear a song from my past, one that I liked, it brings with it little bits and pieces of memories, and sometimes the entire memory. How’s that for some good brain action? What I can’t figure out is why now? Why are they beginning to sort and re-enter at this point in time? I’ve heard some of these songs before (I said I didn’t have a lot of time to listen to the radio, not that I haven’t listened to it at all) and they never triggered anything. I just think it’s interesting and I’m wondering if there is a meaning behind it. I’ll have to email my former counselor to see what she thinks. I’ll let you know on that count also.

So those are my thoughts for tonight. I was just sitting here thinking about some of the memories that have reappeared and thought I’d mention it. There’s no better place than here. Perhaps one day I’ll have all my memories put back together and I’ll be complete and fear free. That would be nice. It’s hard to answer my kids’ questions when I can’t remember the answers. I think it would be nice to tell them some of the things I did as a kid; I can’t do that now and it bugs me because they are so curious. I’m sure it’ll all come together eventually. I’ll let you know if and when that happens. I do know it won’t be tonight.

Until next time…peace to all.

Lovin' Skype

I think Skype is the coolest thing. I've been using it a lot lately and trying to convince my friends to download it so we can chat live, sort of. It's better than the phone because it's got video so you can actually see the person on the other end. You can do full screen, or just leave it in the small screen. That's what Joe and I usually because we play games while we talk. Not games with each other, we just play the Solitaire and Freecell games that come installed on the computer. The kids use Skype, too, to talk to their dad. They used to anyway; I think I went over this the other night. He's moving and doesn't have his camera set up yet. Oh well. That's just Paul.

The only thing I don't like about Skype is that I can't carry my computer with me. I've got a desktop but even with a laptop it would be difficult, or, at least, bothersome. If I’ve been in the middle of cooking I've had to leave the computer to go check on the food. Or, if I want to get something to drink, I have to run to the kitchen and leave Joe sitting there waiting for me. Not that it takes me very long, it's the point. And going to the bathroom is just a PITA. I've taken the phone with me when the need arose; don't say “gross” because I know you’ve done it too. When you’re on the phone for a while and need to go the phone goes with you; don’t deny it. I can’t take my computer with me, though, when I’m using Skype. Not that I would even if I had a laptop because nobody wants to watch that. I may leave the computer outside the door, though. With a desktop I don’t have that option.

Skype is cool, too, because you can leave voicemail messages even if your contacts don’t have their computers on when you call. They’ll get a notification that they missed a call and will be able to retrieve the message just like on the phone. It’s too cool. If you do connect it’s a great tool for being able to see your contacts in person. You can call someone and ask advice on what you’re wearing. “Is this dress okay for dinner tonight?” You can show off kids’ drawings, or allow them to tell Grandma “Happy Birthday” live and in person.

You can even take snapshots of the person you’re talking to and save them. You might catch them looking really spectacular and want to save the moment; or you could get photos of them doing really silly shit and then post the photos on Facebook. I’d ask their permission first, though, or you may not have them to Skype with anymore. I did that to Joe once. This past winter we were talking on night. His computer was in his bedroom and he heard something outside the house. He knelt on his bed to take a look out the window and I snapped a shot of his big ass (in sweatpants – get your minds out of the gutter) as it was facing directly into the camera. I did post it on Facebook but only after asking him if it was okay. He’s a good sport about everything so it wasn’t a problem for him. I’ve also taken snapshots of him looking like a complete and total goofball after waking up from a nap. I’ve got those photos saved as blackmail shots – in the event that I ever need them.

I just think Skype is one of the best ways to communicate with friends these days. Could you tell by all my talk of it? If not, you should be able to tell now. I think everyone should have it and we should all be using it rather than just sending text messages constantly, or emails. Granted, there’s nothing wrong with those methods, but live conversation, especially when there’s video to go along with it, is really great. Not only do you get to enjoy hearing your friend’s voice, but there will never be any mistaking the meaning or context of what is being said the way that can happen with the written word. Give it a shot if you want. Tell your family. Tell your friends. Maybe we can start a Skype movement and have all the World connected. Nah, maybe not; I don’t need that many friends. I’m just diggin’ technology these days and putting the word out there.

Until next time…peace to all.

That Sounds Ridiculous

I got another me-like comment from Dolly yesterday. She was doing something, I can't remember what, and I was getting angry. As she was sitting on the bed continuing to do whatever it was that she was doing I told her, “I’m getting so angry I can hardly see straight.” She looked at me and said, “Then why don’t you put on your glasses?” I just went, “Huh?” So she said, “If you can’t see straight, why don’t you put on your glasses?” I don’t know if she was intending to be sarcastic or if she was just making a four-year-old-like comment but I didn’t know what to say. I also couldn’t be angry after that. It’s hard to continue to be angry when a child says something funny – intended or not.

It’s even harder to be angry when I say something that sounds totally ridiculous in the midst of anger. I discovered that about six years ago when I was still pregnant with Dolly. The boys were three and two at the time and were acting up. I think it had something to do with the litter boxes because I remember saying something to the effect of, “Stay away from the cat poop.” Once the word ‘poop’ was in the air, my anger dissipated. ‘Poop’ is just not a word that can be said when I’m really angry, if I intend to remain angry, anyway. Try it sometime. I’ll bet you start laughing once the word flies from your lips, especially if you’re yelling it.

Quite honestly, there are many things I never thought I’d say in my life; then I became a parent and found myself saying the most ridiculous things. These weren’t the ridiculous things I’d always accused my mother of saying. She asked what I call “Stupid Parent Questions.” Things like: “Don’t you know it hurts your sister when you hit her?” Um, yea, I do know. That was the point. Or she’d ask, “Do you want to take out the garbage?” Nope, not really; but thanks for asking. My favorite was, “Do you want to get smacked?” Yes please, twice if you don’t mind. I try not to ask questions like that to my kids but I’m sure one or two have slipped on occasion.

The things I’m talking about are things that, to a person without children, would sound completely absurd. Actually, they sound absurd to a person with children but at least that person can understand the meaning behind whatever I said, and can empathize. I’ve actually said to my kids, “Get your finger out of the dog’s nose,” and “Stop putting that bead in your ear before it gets stuck.” Those are things that I never would have imagined myself saying to another human being in a million years. Honestly, I don’t have many friends who try to bite my pets and need to be warned against it.

That happened a few times with the kids, though. Actually, it was just Zach. He was a biter when he was a toddler. I don’t know why, he just took to it. He looked just like Chucky from the “Child’s Play” movies when he went to bite someone, too. His little nose scrunched up, and his tiny mouth bared his baby teeth, and he just dove in for the kill, or bite, should I say. We had two dogs; one of them was a Huskie/Chow mix so she had really long fur. She got in Zach’s way occasionally and he’d try to bite her. He was warned, “Zach, stop trying to bite the dog,” which sounds totally nuts in and of itself. One day, though, my warning came a little late. He was already mid-bite when I noticed. The good thing was, because her fur was so long, he didn’t hit her skin, but he did come up with a mouth full of long, black dog fur. It was hard to be angry then, too, because the anger wouldn’t stick while I was pulling fur out of Zach’s mouth and saying, “I told you not to bite the dog” at the same time.

You also can’t be angry when telling your kid to stop wiping boogers on his bed, or to stop poking his sister with a crayon. Maybe, if I had time to think about what I was going to say before it needed to be said, I could get the anger across to them in a better way, by using different words. Somehow, though, I’m not so sure of that. There really isn’t a better way to say, “Stop shaking your butt out the window” or “Quit giving your brother a wedgie.” If there is, I don’t know it. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that phrases like this will continue to be uttered by me for the duration of my children’s childhoods, and probably into their adulthoods. I hope not, though, for their sakes. I’d hate to be at Ty’s wedding reception telling Zach to “stop giving all the guests wet willies.” It would be pretty funny, though. I know I’d laugh.

Until next time…peace to all.

Skyping and Typing

Someone needs to explain something to me because I don’t understand. I’ve been telling Paul for the past couple of days that I’m running out of minutes on my phone. (I didn’t make as much on the consignment sale from last week as I’d hoped, so I won’t be putting any minutes on until after the weekend.) In the past, Paul has spoken to the kids on Skype. When we lived in MO it was fun for them to be able to see him occasionally so that was the easiest way. He mentioned the other day that he’d like to speak to them on Skype but he still doesn’t have his camera hooked up to his computer – remember, he’s moving in with his pseudo-chick. The apartment he’s moving from is tiny so I can’t imagine why it’s taking him so long. Whatever.

Anyway, I emailed him tonight that he can still talk to the kids via Skype voice, rather than video. It does voice too and it’s free. He emailed me back saying, “Give me a little bit; still moving.” What the fuck? That has nothing to do with anything, his still moving. He’s obviously got his computer working or he wouldn’t be able to check email. All he needs to do is sign onto Skype and click “call” to connect to me. We don’t need the video. What I need explained is why he’s not understanding what I’m telling him. I can’t say it any clearer. Open Skype, sign on, click on my name, click “call” and talk to the kids. How is that difficult to understand? I just don’t get it.

Anyway, that’s enough about him. Just talking about him makes my head hurt. I’ve already had one headache today, I don’t need another. I spent a good portion of the day online looking up transcription companies. I did at-home transcription right after Dolly was born; or was it before? I can’t remember. What I do remember is that I was spending so much time keeping up with tiny kids (the boys were 3 and 2) that, by the time I got to do the transcription, I was already exhausted. It didn’t last very long. Now, though, with them in school, I’ve got a few hours a day to utilize.

The work is okay, if you can type around 70wpm, although some of the companies require upwards of 90wpm. That’s out of my league completely. I’m right around 72 so I’ll just stick with those companies. Some require a resume and will then send you a test; others have a preliminary test right on their website. You take the test and wait to hear if you’ve passed. If you have, they send you a second test. If you pass that you get to work for them. They send you an audio file over FTP and then you put it into your transcription software. From there you put on your little headphones and type, type, type. Once it’s done, you send it back and get paid.

The work can be a PITA at times, especially when someone is speaking too quickly or mumbling, but if you listen close enough you’ll get it. If not, there are instructions for you to follow to indicate that the person was inaudible. Each file will come with specific instructions on the way it’s to be typed and spaced and all of that. That’s what gets to be tricky. It has to be exact or you don’t get paid. Imagine, you sat at your computer for four hours, transcribing an hour’s worth of audio, then don’t get paid because you didn’t follow the instructions correctly. That’s why I always read, re-read, and re-read again.

The software you need – the FTP and the transcription software are available free on the Internet. There are some transcription software versions that cost money – I don’t know how much because I choose to use the free one – that I’d eventually get if this work pans out for me. And I know I’ll need a foot pedal, too. A foot pedal is exactly what it says – it’s a big box with different functions on it – play, stop, ff, rewind – so you don’t have to use the computer hot keys in the midst of typing. Work goes much faster with a foot pedal but they are expensive also. I saw two on Craigslist for $25, which is cool; but when I checked Amazon.com they were twice that if not more. I even saw some that were selling for $50 new and over $60 used. What’s up with that? Don’t the sellers know that I can get a brand new one for less? I guess not. Not my problem, though.

In any case, I applied to about five of these companies today. With the application process it takes a while; not to mention that I have to read the qualifications first to see if I should even bother. Three of them just wanted a resume; another wanted a whole slew of questions answered in the body of the resume – remember, follow instructions to the letter; and the last didn’t even ask for a resume, just asked me a bunch of odd questions and then had a preliminary test all ready to go. It was basically grammar and inserting the correct word, or correcting what was incorrect. Now I have to wait to hear back from them to see if I get to move on to the second test.

The company that had the long list of questions I had to cover in the email got back to me also. They said the pay rates had dropped since they’re always competing with Pakistan for the work and was I still interested. Hey, money is money right now. I told them I’d like to take the preliminary test and, if I pass, take it from there. They emailed me the test late tonight so I’ll do that when the kids are in school tomorrow morning. There’s also one company that I didn’t apply to yet because I have to take their test at the application process – like the one mentioned in the last paragraph – but this test is transcription. Three audio files, all of different types, have to be transcribed. Since each file is five minutes, they should only take about twenty to transcribe but I need the time in the morning while the kids are at school. I was going to do it today, after I dropped Dolly off at her second school, but I wasn’t sure I’d have the time to complete the audios plus whatever else I was expected to do as I was applying. That’s another test for tomorrow morning, when I’ve got a longer interval between schools.

I spent over 15 years as an admin, and I’m always typing something, so I’m sure I can get work doing transcription for someone. Any little bit of money will help, so I’ll just keep plugging away. I’ll keep you updated as things progress. For now, though, I’m going to see if I can speak to Joe – via Skype – and just relax for a while. My headache went away, thanks to an Advil from Ellen; I’m just tired now and need to unwind a bit.

Until next time…peace to all.

Another Good Day Comes to a Close

We actually had another good day today, I am pleased to announce. I got the laundry done – since we’ve been here I haven’t fallen behind on it; and the kids and I spent a lot of time together just messing around. This morning we watched last night’s season premiere of Nickelodeon’s “Big Time Rush” and laughed at the antics of the boys on the show. A couple of them are hot so it’s a shame that I’m as old as I am. I can’t even lust after them; I’m old enough to be their mother. Bummer. The show is cute, though, and the kids like it.

Then, we were going to watch a new episode of “Victorious” and I was getting ready to go back to the DVR guide. I recorded both shows because we had such a long day at the zoo that I wanted the kids to get some rest and they’d have been up late if they watched the shows as they aired. Before I could get to the guide, though, they realized that “FRED: The Movie” was on Nick and wanted to watch that instead. Fred is a character made up and played by 17-year-old Lucas Cruikshank. Lucas makes short videos of “Fred” doing all kinds of goofy shit. You can look him up on Youtube – just search “Fred” and you’ll get a list of videos. We all love Fred, he’s just too cool, although a geek. Anyway, we watched the movie rather than the “Victorious” episode.

Afterward I came up to my room to get a couple of things done and to finish folding the laundry before our next activity. We decided that we would make some popcorn and watch “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” in the boys’ room. They’ve been begging me to watch the movie with them so I finally did. I don’t recommend it, though, to anyone over ten years of age. The boys like it, and laugh hysterically at it, but it was putting me to sleep. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open – and they were burning really badly – until the movie ended. Then we just came into my room to watch some “Fred” videos on Youtube.

Then it was dinner, showers and bed for them, although none of them went to sleep when they should have. That needs to be changed. I put them to bed by 8:30 and many nights they’re still awake longer than they should be. It’s just too bad we can’t put them to sleep instantly. A quick snap of the fingers and it’s happy dreams for all. Where is Samantha Stevens when I need her? I’ve tried twitching my nose but all that does is make my nose itch, and the kids are still awake.

In any case, the day was good and I’m finally learning how to deal with the onset of a tantrum before it becomes a full-blown meltdown. I don’t know what made me see my errors but I can only speculate that it’s because I have a lot of time to think these days. Time to think and converse with the Universe. Maybe I’m just calming down and listening to the answers that are coming my way. I realize I’m impatient but that’s gotta change too. It’s not doing me any good so I’ll have to just do my best to stop stressing over shit and let nature take its course. It’s about time I got a clue; or rather, it’s about time I used the knowledge I’ve already got and to actually use it. When I’m under stress I push all of my techniques and methods to the back burner and I know I shouldn’t.

From now on I’ll do what I can to smile and take things in stride. It’s worked for the past couple of days so I know I can do it. It’s just a matter of me reminding myself, on a constant basis, to continue with what I know. If I don’t make some positive changes I’ll just stagnate and keep getting frustrated. I’ll keep Dr. Phil in mind when I revert to the same negative behaviors: “How’s that working for ya?” Well, the positive is working really well, thank you. I do believe I’ll try to continue with it.

Until next time…peace to all.

A Positive Energy Day

Had a great day today. I took the kids to the National Zoo down in Washington DC. I picked up some Lunchables and a few bottles of water so we wouldn’t have to buy food there. Then we drove to Rockville to the Metro and took that to the Zoo rather than me driving. Parking at the zoo is outrageous – $30 or more for the day. I spent less than that in gas and train fair. It was the first time the kids were on a real metro liner and they loved it. Zach was especially fond of going through the tunnels. Once we got to Cleveland Park Station we walked about ten minutes to get to the zoo but it was a really nice day.

When we got there we got a map – admission was free so I didn’t mind paying the $2 for the map – and headed out to see what we could find. The kids were so excited they didn’t know where to start first. I let them read the map and tell us where we were going. They did a pretty good job too. The map is kid friendly, with pictures as well as words, so it was even easy for Dolly to follow. We made our way through each exhibit as it arrived and took tons of pictures along the way. We didn’t get to see any elephants because they weren’t available, although we don’t know why. But we did see a panda, which Dolly loved, and a lot of gorillas and orangutans. The kids thought they were hilarious.

Believe it or not, we only had one potty break the entire day, and that was Dolly. It was really hot with all the walking we were doing so we were sweating out most of the water we drank. It was a good thing we didn’t have to stop too often, too, because the bathrooms were spread really far apart across the park – and they weren’t marked on the map. What’s up with that? I’ve never been to any kind of zoo or amusement park that didn’t indicate where the bathrooms were on the map. No matter, we did just fine.

We did a lot of walking, and laughing, and only had one emotional outburst – and, again, that was Dolly. It didn’t last too long and it was at the end of the day, as we were looking for the souvenir shop just before we left to come home. Other than that, the day was great. We all loved the zoo and hit every single exhibit – even the elephants because we didn’t know they weren’t out – except two. We didn’t visit the reptile house because the line was really long, and we didn’t do the bird sanctuary. We hit all the rest, though. By the time we got to the last exhibit, the Kid Farm, everybody was ready to hit the road. What we didn’t realize during all of our walking was that, from the far end of the zoo back to the entrance, it’s an all uphill walk.

Sure, as we were walking throughout the day there were minor ups and downs but nothing really noticeable. It wasn’t until that last, really long walk, that we realized just how far downhill we’d been. We’d go up, up, up, then level off for a minute or so, then go up, up, up, and repeat until we reached the gift shop at the entrance. Holy Moses was that a climb. My knee (I had a reconstruction on it when I was sixteen) felt like it was on fire it hurt so badly. My back was hurting also but that I could handle. My knee was just a big ball of pain. That’s okay, though. It was worth it to have such a great day with the kids.

After we got close to home, we went to McDonald’s for dinner. They’d wanted a bunch of snacks and stuff at the zoo but I made them a deal. Just get one thing from the gift shop, don’t have any snacks, and they could have Kid’s Meals and ice cream afterward. They readily agreed. That was even pleasant. Just a lot of happy chatter and talk of the things we’d seen at the zoo; no arguments, no fussing, no fighting. All in all it was one of the best days we’ve had in a long time. The kids didn’t even mind that we couldn’t go to the Frederick County Fair. I didn’t have the money for it – it’s seriously expensive – so we opted for the zoo instead. There was definitely a lot of positive energy flowing around us today. Now I’ll just have to make it stick with us.

Until next time…peace to all.

Short and Sweet

It’s time to turn things around and make them more positive. I’ve got my 30-day workbook going; that’s always helped in the past. I’m only on day two but I know it’ll improve within the next few days. Too much is going on that’s out of my control, that I can’t fix, and that I can’t understand. My negative energy is only making things worse. I can fix that; that I know I can do.

I’ve put out a big plea to the Powers That Be and to a group of old friends, who may or may not be able, to help me turn things around to the way they should be. I’m making myself sick and am on the verge of panic. Things have to right themselves soon, and I know they will. I hate feeling sick and edgy all the time; and worrying is making me queasy.

So I’m not going to feel that way anymore. I’m going to concentrate on what I want, and I’m going to make it happen. I’ve done it in the past and I can do it again. I know someone will come through with an answer for me be it the Universe, a friend, or the Universe working through a friend. I have faith that it’ll happen. I’ve put the request out there, now it’s just a matter of listening for the response. I’m keeping my eyes and ears wide open.

Until next time…peace to all.

That's So Annoying

I posted something on Facebook tonight that I thought was pretty funny. Yesterday, when I was helping Dolly put on her shoes and socks her quick wit showed itself. Right after I got her shoes on, I started turning down her socks – they were little anklets that had a design on them. She asked me what I was doing and I told her, “Fixing your socks.” She looked at me with a big grin and said, “How did they get broken?” What a little wiseass she is? She definitely gets that from me. Not only did I find it funny, but I thought it was really interesting that she used the sarcasm in the right context. She knew her socks weren’t broken, but she also realized “fix” means to repair; then she made a joke out of it. It definitely reminded me of me.

I often use that same line when someone tells me they’re “fixing” dinner, or supper, or lunch, or whatever meal is on the horizon. “You need to fix it? Is it broken?” My grandmother used to say that to me. She’d get ready to go to the kitchen and tell us, my sister and I, that she was going to fix our dinner. I could never figure that out because I didn’t understand how dinner could be broken. I was young but I wasn’t four like Dolly is, and, NO, I wasn’t 25 either. The idea of fixing a meal just seemed odd to me. Still does. If it needs to be fixed every night why don’t you just make it right the first time? Doesn’t make sense, does it?

Lots of things people say don’t make sense to me. A big one is when someone says, “Really?” after I’ve finished telling them something. “I just had the best burger I’ve tasted in a long time.” “Really?” “Uh, nope; I made it up just for you.” Yes, really. Why would I be telling you if it didn’t “really” happen? It’s even worse when they say “really” after I’ve said something unpleasant. “I just passed a three-car pile-up on the LIE and it looked like someone might have died.” “Really?” Why would anyone make up something like that? I generally don’t go around saying shit just for the sake of saying it; and I certainly don’t go around saying shit for pure shock value. Granted, nobody has used the “really” comeback to me in a while; but I bet it’s still out there somewhere, just waiting in the wings for me.

Right up there with “really” is “thinking outside the box.” To what box are we referring, folks? I heard that expression back when I was still working, the last job I held before I gave birth to Tyler. It’s been around for, at least, the past nine years – probably longer if I cared enough to research it. People have been thinking outside the box for a while now and I’m wondering what’s going on inside the box if nobody is in there anymore. Why did we go outside the box anyway? Were all the ideas in there old and stale; not worth thinking anymore? Had they become useless or undependable? I don’t think do. I’m not even sure how or why the expression developed. I just know it’s a really irritating expression and someone needs to put a lid on it. Get it? “Put a lid on it”? Put a lid on the box? I’m cracking myself up over here. I’m just too funny sometimes.

Since we’re going to try to do away with that one, let’s also do away with the ever popular, although not amusing, “See you next year” when we depart company of someone just before New Year’s Eve and who we won’t be seeing until after January 1st. You know what I mean. Say New Year’s Eve is on a Saturday and you’ve got Friday off from work but will be returning on Monday. As you and your co-workers are leaving the building someone inevitably yells “See you next year!!” Hardy-har-har. Gee, didn’t see that one coming. Anyone who says that should be slapped upside the head, along with whoever asks, “Is it hot (cold) enough for ya?” “No, it’s only 102˚ outside. Another 20˚ and it’ll be just perfect.” Why do people think they’re being funny when they say things like that? Honestly, if it’s that hot, or cold, I’m too cranky to want to deal with stupid jokes. Maybe we could put those expressions in the box before we put a lid on it.

I’m sure I could think of dozens more examples but I don’t think I need to. Right about now you’re probably thinking of expressions that bother you, and saying, “Yea, that really is an annoying expression.” You may even be guilty of using some of them yourself; we all are. I’m sure I’ve used many expressions that annoy others, and I may have even asked “Really?” a few times in my lifetime. I try not to, though, because I know I don’t like it. I just find them annoying but interesting, and often wonder how they developed. I also wonder why people don’t always think before they speak to realize how silly their words are.

Maybe if we pointed it out to people they’d take notice and would concentrate more on what they say before they say it. It does work. I remember I had a boss once, at the aforementioned “think outside the box” company, who used the word “dude” constantly. He was 34 then, and he called everyone “dude” all the time. I mentioned it to him and let him borrow my copy of the movie “Baseketball” where, if you haven’t seen the movie, the two lead characters have an entire conversation using only the word “dude.” My boss watched the movie and was amused, but shocked and embarrassed, that he used the word as often as he did in daily life – and he stopped using it from that day forward. Really? No, I made it up just for you. Yes, really.

Until next time…peace to all.

Glasses and Lunch in the Same Day

Remember last week when I went to get my eyes checked? They told me it would take about a week for my glasses to be ready. That’s fine, but I know a week is just a safety net for them. They could come in earlier, but they don’t want people calling every single day. I can understand that since I’ve worked for places where orders were placed and the clients were very concerned about getting their merchandise on time. Anyhow, the eye place told me they’d call me when my glasses arrived. Since I was going to be in that area this morning I decided to call them, just in case. Guess what? My glasses were there. Now, unless the place had a delivery first thing this morning – I called about a half hour after they opened – my glasses were there, at least, by yesterday. Wouldn’t you know it; I didn’t get any phone call. Imagine that?

I can’t figure out why it’s so hard for them to do what they say they’ll do. There were three people working in the front, just as there was last week. I think one of them should be calling customers to tell them their glasses have arrived and are ready to be retrieved. It doesn’t have to be the same person every day making the phone calls; they can alternate. But they should still make the calls so people aren’t waiting any longer than they have to wait. I couldn’t wait to get mine so I’d be able to see. Regardless, I’ve got them and all is well. I can see street signs when I drive – out of both eyes, not just the right one like it was with my old glasses – and I can see the label on a medicine bottle without have to telescope my arms in and out to get the proper vision adjustment. Aaahhh; the simple pleasures in life.

Speaking of pleasures; I had lunch with Dolly at her school today. She wanted me to be there so I asked the teachers yesterday if it would be alright. It always is, Head Start encourages parent involvement, they just want to know ahead of time so the cook can prepare more food. So, promptly at 11:30 I arrived in the classroom while the class was sitting on the blue rug listening to their teacher discuss different kinds of services vehicles and who can drive them. “Right, this is a police car. Can a man drive it?” “Yes.” “Can a woman drive it?” “Yes.” “That’s right. Any of you here, both boys and girls, can grow up to be a police officer.” It was interesting to see their reactions that both men and women could be police officers, or paramedics, or bus drivers, or pilots. They were amazed and amused.

Then the cook wheeled lunch in on a cart and I helped one of the assistant teachers set the tables and get everything ready. The lead teacher, meanwhile, called each child by name, in twos and threes to go wash their hands for lunch. When Dolly saw me she was very excited and couldn’t wait for me to sit down at her table with her. I waited until all the kids had gotten their plates and napkins and had found their seats before I joined. I didn’t want to mess them up by sitting in the wrong seat. That would really confuse them and we just don’t to that to kids, especially when most of them are only three and four.

So I got a plate and a napkin and joined Dolly, three of her “friends” (the proper word for the students in the classroom), and her lead teacher; since I’m unsure if I can use her name, I’ll just say Miss C. Once the six of us were seated, Miss C. began to pass around the food. They do breakfast and lunch family style there; the food is served in small serving bowls and the children use the proper utensils – fork, spoon, tongs – to serve themselves. It’s adorable to watch them. They are so proud to have that privilege. So we received a plate of pizza on English muffins, celery and cucumbers along with Ranch dressing for dipping, orange slices for dessert, and milk. I was eating my lunch on a mid-sized paper plate, using half-sized tongs to serve myself, and drinking my milk from a four-ounce plastic cup. All the while I was sitting on a small, student-sized chair – the kind where an adult’s knees are almost at chest level – and my plate was on a small, student-sized table. My knees were at the same level as my plate. All the other adults were sitting that way also so I really couldn’t feel uncomfortable.

I helped Dolly get what she needed, and I helped another student, on my other side, get what he needed. We all chatted a bit about this and that – kids aren’t very worldly at this age so it was basically remedial conversation – but very adorable. Just watching these little people picking up food with mini tongs and placing it on their plates with so much pride was awesome. I’ve never been able to serve meals family style at my house because a) I don’t own any serving bowls and I won’t put hot pans on the table for risk of burn injuries; and b) until recently, the kids were so messy just eating that the after-meal mess was enough for me. Had they been able to serve themselves at the table, I’d have been cleaning for a good long while when dinner was finished.

I was also pleasantly surprised that the food tasted so good. Not that I expect school food to taste like complete crap, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve gone to school and I’ve tasted the food. When I got my lunch, I stuck with simple things like toasted bagels because the hot stuff was on the same level as hospital food. I know things have changed over the many years since I’ve graduated, but I still wasn’t expecting such a treat. It could also be that the cook only cooks for 24 people; give or take a couple. When you’re cooking for such a small group, as opposed to 500 or more in a regular school, you have more time to concentrate on quality rather than quantity.

So we ate our lunch, cleaned up, and sat back on the blue rug – the group meeting area – to listen to some bus safety techniques. At 12:15 Dolly and I left so I could get her to her Pre-K class at another school. I think I mentioned that it’s the only way I can have her in school full time. Because of budget cuts, there are no full-day Head Start programs in this area. Our lunchtime date was over, but it was immensely enjoyable. I’m thinking of asking the boys if they’d like me to join them for lunch one day but I’m not sure if they’d want “Mom” there with them where their friends could see. At the boys’ ages Moms are starting to be hidden in the background. “Who’s that lady over there?” “Shh, it’s my mom. If you don’t look at her she may just go away.” I don’t think Ty would have a problem with me there; it’s Zach who’s starting to refuse kisses in front of his friends. I’ll have to explain to him that chicks dig a dude who loves his mom; that’s how they can tell if he’s a nice guy. That might lighten him up a bit since he’s the real ladies man around here. I’ll let you know how he feels about that.

Until next time…peace to all.

Another Pet Peeve

One of my pet peeves is people who ignore me whether family, friend, or stranger. My kids are constantly being told not to ignore me. They usually respond by saying that they didn’t hear me or that they heard me but were busy doing something. Okay, if you didn’t hear me, that’s fine; if you heard me but were busy, that’s unacceptable. If you can’t muster the strength to answer in a full sentence, at least grunt at me so I know my message got through to you.

Friends do the same thing at times and I can’t stand it. Generally, any adult who’s in the room with me will respond and converse. With technology as advanced as it is, though, friends I call or email take their sweet time responding and it really irks me. I’ve actually cut so-called friends out of my life because they ignore me. I have a three strikes rule of my own. If I call and leave a message, I’ll give you a day to respond. I realize people are busy and I’m not the center of the Universe. I’ll call a second time and give another day. Then I’ll call a third time. If you don’t respond to me within the next 24 hours, I have no time for you.

Whether you’re crazy busy at work, cleaning the house intensely under the influence of OCD, trying to deal with a bad bout of constipation, whatever, you still have 30 seconds to dial my number and tell me that you can’t talk but will call me back at a specific time. I’ll wait as long as I know you got my message and you were considerate enough to call me back. If you don’t consider me important enough to even call me as you mop the floor for the 32nd time, I don’t need you in my life. The same works for email. I know people are constantly on the computer and checking email on a regular basis. I know, some people don’t do that, but most do. How hard is it to respond? “I got your message but don’t really have time to read it. I’m backed up and running for the soapy hose right now. I’ll email you back when I have more time.” That’s all it takes; I understand shit happens. I can deal with it.

What’s especially annoying, though, are the businesses and corporate morons who think that clientele isn’t the most important aspect of a business. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve contacted a company using the company website’s “Contact Us” link only to be ignored. I know I shouldn’t take it personally because large corporations probably get hundreds of emails a day and can’t respond to each and every inquiry in a timely manner. I am starting to take it personally, though, because that “we can’t respond to everyone” mentality is just an excuse, if you ask me. Reason being, I’ve also contacted some very large companies and have gotten automated responses telling me I’d be contacted by customer service within 48 hours – and I get contacted by customer service within 48 hours. If some can do it, all can do it. So why shouldn’t I take it personally?

Apparently I’m not important enough in the scheme of the business dealings for someone from the company to get back to me and answer whatever question/s I have. If I’m not important enough, why should I continue to utilize your service or business or whatever else I’m utilizing? I can always go somewhere else to get the assistance I need. Unless you’re the only business in the country that handles my particular issue, I’m sure I can find someone else who will think my business is important.

The reason I’m on this topic tonight is because, not only am I having trouble getting a friend to respond to me via email to help me with a big problem, but Ellen and I are having trouble getting in touch with the lady who’s running a local consignment sale next week. I contacted her last week to tell her I want to participate in the sale – I want to sell some of my kids’ clothes and buy some for them also – and I gave her all the requested details. After three days, I think it was, she finally emailed me back giving me further information. Almost immediately after I got her response, I emailed her to tell her Ellen also wants to participate in the sale. That was Thursday. Friday was the deadline to contact her in order to participate.

On Friday I emailed her again, and even called the phone number she gave me that evening. Three times in two days I contacted her and I still haven’t heard anything. Today, or yesterday if you’re looking at the clock, Ellen emailed her and called her; she still hasn’t received a response. This woman is running a huge children’s clothing consignment sale and can’t bother to get back to people who want to participate. I understand she’s married, based on the message on her answering machine giving her and her husband’s names; I’m going to assume she’s got kids and/or grandkids, too, or she probably wouldn’t be running a children’s clothing sale, and she’s probably busy doing the wife/mother thing. That’s all well and good.

However, when the sale is next week, and she’s having participants dropping off their items starting Monday morning, she needs to get back to people who contact her. We’re scrambling to get the items tagged and on hangers and in size order and whatever else she stipulated, and we need answers to questions. With as much money as this lady stands to earn from the items Ellen and I are selling, you’d think she’d be quicker to respond. Leave the kids under Dad’s care for a couple of days, or just hours even, while you check your email and answer inquiries. I guess she doesn’t understand that. Someone needs to tell her that the proper way to run a business is to put the customer first. Granted, and contrary to public opinion, the customer isn’t always right, but the customer is the backbone of the business and deserves some respect.

I try to give it and I expect it in return. If I have to follow the rules, so do you. I always try to treat people the way I want to be treated, and I always try to return a phone call or email as quickly as I can. If I can’t, I’ll let you know I can’t, and why if possible, but I will always get back to you as soon as I have the time. Even if I’m constipated I’ll take the phone with me. (That’s an honor reserved for really close friends, however. :-) ) I don’t ignore people and I don’t expect, nor do I like, being ignored – by anyone. Keep that in mind the next time I contact you; otherwise you might end up being “It” all the time with nobody left to phone tag. ;-)

Until next time…peace to all.

Keep Moving On

I didn’t post last night because I was in a quandary about this home health care gig that was on the horizon. I Skyped with Joe to get his input and just gripe for a while about my decision making skills. After I got off the computer with him I still hadn’t made any decisions so I went to bed, tried to read, couldn’t so I lay there tossing and turning for most of the night. I finally got out of bed at 6:30 this morning. Okay, that may be late for most of you, but when I’m used to actually sleeping all night and waking around 7:00, it was the pits. I got out of bed, went downstairs to sit for a while and, wouldn’t you know it, Dolly woke up and followed me down. So we were both up early and it wasn’t fun.

The boys got up and ready for school; I got Dolly ready and got myself dressed, and we all sat watching TV for almost an hour before I had to take them to school. Ellen came down and we were talking about this moving situation and the elderly woman’s family. Long story really short, I decided not to do it. I got a slough of information on Thursday that I didn’t have earlier in the week; all of my decisions were being rushed; and I didn’t have time to process anything until the kids went to bed last night. That’s when I started thinking about what the daughters of the old lady had told me. As it turns out, the negatives far outweigh the positives and I would be really uncomfortable taking on something I know would be wrong in the long run. So I called the women I’d spoken with, two of the old woman’s daughters, and explained the situation. They understood but asked if I would take their mom to her first couple of doctor appointments while they search for someone to care for her. That I can do, for a couple of appointments. I’m not making it a major project in my life.

Anyway, after that decision had been made, I felt a great deal of relief and knew I had made the right decision by turning down the “job” with them. Ellen and I also figured that all the “Colombia” signs I was getting weren’t signs; they were warnings. Now we’ll avoid anything to do with Columbia/Colombia because it’s not where I’m supposed to be right now. There was one drawback about all of this intense decision making; I was so tense that the nerve in my right shoulder pinched and I can’t get it unpinched. Maybe I’ll get a relaxing night’s sleep tonight and it’ll clam down a bit. At least I’ll have my bed to myself. The kids went to Paul’s for the weekend. He picked them up around 4:00 and they arrived at his house around 10:00 tonight. They’ll spend all day tomorrow with him, and part of Sunday, then he’ll bring them home. I’m thinking this will be the last time he gets them until holiday time.

See, it’s a six-hour drive each way for him; that’s a lot of driving, tolls, and gas. I’m guessing, I said guessing, that he’ll move the visits farther apart since it’s not worth the time or effort to do all that driving to see the kids for less than two days. I suspect that he’ll want them for Christmas and will then try to see them for their birthdays and other major holidays when they have more than a weekend to spend. We’ll see; but I do know him and I’m thinking the novelty will wear off really fast.

So, I’ll spend the weekend pondering my other housing options. I’ve got a few more leads to try that I didn’t try this past week because of the one housing possibility I had. Since that’s a no-go, I’ll be on the phone again Monday morning trying to find a place for the kids and me. It’s really hard when everyone has waiting lists. I don’t like waiting, as you already know. I get impatient quickly, especially when it’s something for which I don’t feel I should be waiting. I think I already mentioned this but, since I just moved here from a subsidized community – which means I already qualify under HUD standards – I don’t think I should be put at the bottom of the list when everyone already on it has yet to fully qualify. I know that sounds selfish but think of it this way: if you had a ticket to see a movie and everyone else in line didn’t, should you have to wait at the end of the line for everyone else to buy tickets before you get to go in, or should you be able to bypass the line and get a seat immediately? That’s the way I feel about this housing situation. I’ve already got my ticket – I already qualify – just let me pass these people, get into a home, then those who still need to qualify can do what needs to be done. That’s not the way it works, though, and it sucks.

I’ll just keep plugging away at all the options I’ve got and, with luck, maybe I’ll get something sooner rather than later. Meantime, I’m going to bed to try to read some more and possibly get my shoulder to relax. Tomorrow I’ll run to storage to get some things out that I need, and then I’ll straighten up the boys’ room so it’s clean when they get home. I’m also going to relax and enjoy the quiet for a couple of days; perhaps I’ll be able to meditate for a while and get some other-worldly guidance. I’ll let you know what happens.

Until next time…peace to all.

Wish Lists?

I was watching a Hallmark movie tonight called “The Wish List” and it didn’t make sense to me. Not that movies on Hallmark are supposed to make sense, they’re supposed to make you happy, sad, whatever; it’s Hallmark for crying out loud. Still, the movie was ultra stupid and predictable; I know what happens at the end and I didn’t even see it. I was too tired and it was irritating me so I came up here. It wasn’t the actual movie that didn’t make sense, though; it was the list aspect of it.

The movie was about a woman, Sarah, who made a list of attributes she wanted in a man; she’d dated a few losers and, with each one, decided what she didn’t want and what she did want in a future mate: thus, The Wish List was born. She had 19 elements on it, most of which I can’t remember but some of them were things like: must be handsome, must be able to cook, must love his family, must not eat red meat, must love his family, no bling, nice feet, and athletic. Granted, some of them are givens: which one of us wouldn’t want a man who’s handsome or who loves his family? Although the “loving his family” one would depend on how much he loved his family. I mean, is he with them during every spare minute or are they just close and like doing things together occasionally?

So she makes this list and, quite literally, bumps into Mr. Perfect at a coffee shop. They sit together and start talking and, I don’t know what the movie making people call it, but there is this overlay type of thing where you can see her mentally reviewing her list of attributes and checking off the ones that fit Mr. Perfect. She’s smitten and they begin their relationship. At the same time, at the same coffee shop, she meets the dude behind the counter who doesn’t possess any of the list qualities but who likes Sarah. Hallmark movie, folks: at the end, Sarah realizes her list isn’t necessary, and gives up Mr. Perfect for Coffee Dude. Yea, yea, yea…whatever.

The problem I had – remember I said the list aspect didn’t make any sense – was how a person goes about making up a list and then deciding which attributes are more important than others when grading a potential mate. Sarah had 19 elements on her list and Mr. Perfect, although possessing quite a few of them, did not possess all of them. Since I can’t remember the exact list I’ll have to explain using made up examples, or the few examples I actually did remember from the movie. He loved his family and animals but what if he didn’t love animals? Is that important enough to nix him? Or is being athletic, which he was, more important than say, not eating red meat, which he didn’t, but what if he did? How does one go about prioritizing which attributes are the most important and which she could do without?

I’m just curious because I know we’re all supposed to know what we like and want in a potential mate but what is our tastes change? What if I’ve always liked me with brown hair and that was in the top ten of my list, yet I meet a man with every other attribute on my list but he has blond hair? Do I send him on his way because of that one issue? And is it even an issue? Do people really choose potential mates based on things like this? Are they really that shallow? I’m sure we’re all that shallow to a point: some simply won’t date anyone shorter than herself, or who doesn’t have a high school diploma or something like that. We’ve all got out little just-can’t-have-that issues. I know I do. If a guy can’t make me laugh, or doesn’t have a sense of humor, it’s a deal breaker. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone who won’t get my jokes or who can’t tell a joke or say something funny. Laughter is a must for me.

With regard to Sarah’s letter, though, I’m still wondering how she decided which items were a must and which she could live without in Mr. Perfect. “Oh, he can cook so him having nice feet isn’t really a must” or “Well, he’s got a good job but he doesn’t get along with his family. I can live with that.” I guess that’s what we’re all supposed to do, although we’re not actually supposed to write a list, are we? But we’re supposed to do a mental checklist to decide which items we can forsake in favor of others, right? Or am I completely wrong? I mean, I thought, and this is just what I’ve seen in movies and on TV, that we were supposed to look at the person as a whole, not in bits and pieces. Please correct me if I’m wrong here people.

If we are supposed to do a breakdown, and we decide to give up one thing for another, how do we know it’s right or wrong? For instance, if the relationship doesn’t work, how do we know which attribute/s it was or wasn’t that worked or didn’t work? Do we say, “Well, he was really handsome and that was a problem so next time I’ll look for someone just a little less handsome”? How do we know it wasn’t the red meat issue that drove the wedge, instead? Yes, you can say that we would see the little things creeping up: “Oh, I’m really irritated; I don’t know if I can live with a man who eats red meat.” That would fester and fester until we just couldn’t take it anymore. Right and wrong, if you ask me. The red meat issue may not be the large underlying issue; it may just be a surface issue that can remain once others are dealt with first. Does that make any sense at all? It does in my head so I hope it does on here too.

And how do we know that one break-up issue here wouldn’t have been a keeper issue there? Bart is extremely handsome and has a pretty good job, but he eats red meat; I don’t know if I can live with that. Hal, is also extremely handsome but has a fabulous job and eats red meat. Maybe I can live with Hal eating red meat simply because he has a better job than Bart. That’s a stupid example, but you get my drift. If we can accept a fault in one person, should we accept that same fault in others or do we pick and choose? I just don’t get it. I don’t really need to, though, since I’m not dating. I don’t even know what I’d want in a guy.

None of my relationships have been good enough to want to keep any of the attributes of any of the guys from my past. Seriously. Anything and everything I know about relationships is what I’ve seen on TV and in movies. I believe I posted about this before so I’m not going to repeat myself (although I probably do that quite often). I can tell you what I don’t want – anyone who is abusive or lazy – but I honestly can’t make a list of positive attributes I want in a man. Yes, I can turn all the negatives that I don’t want into positives that I do want, but it’s not the same thing that was portrayed in the movie. Regardless, I’m not dating now, and I don’t plan on dating anytime soon so it’s really a moot point. Perhaps if that time ever arises, way, way in the future, I’ll post a need for assistance. Until then, I’m just gonna ponder the world as it comes my way.

Until next time…peace to all.

Puberty Again?

Didn’t have a real good day today. Between Zach and Dolly, I don’t know whose tantrums were worse. I was proud of me, though, because I never raised my voice once. I did a lot of “breath in, breath out” and kept myself calm during the storms. I’m just so tired of the tantrums. These kids are old enough to have outgrown them so I shouldn’t still be going through it. I don’t know; maybe once everything is settled down and we’re in our own place they’ll calm down a bit. Zach had always been a worrier; he gets that from me so it’s something we’ll have to work on together. Dolly is just taking up after Zach – he does it, so she does it. That’s gotta stop. I'll figure out something.

On a different note, tomorrow I get to have my eyes examined. The last time I had it done was in 2006, just before my divorce was final. I was still on Paul’s insurance and figured I’d take advantage of it one last time. I hadn’t had my eyes checked for years – we’re talking over ten – at the time so it was needed. Come to find out I needed bifocals. Say what? I was 39. No 39 year old needs bifocals. Okay, maybe some do. I did. Got my glasses and never wore them. When I finally started to wear them I realized the place fucked up the left distance lens; I still saw blurry out of it when I looked really far away. It was too late to have them fix it for nothing so I’ve really only been using my glasses for reading up close.

I don’t have a choice about that. I can’t read medicine bottles when I have to give the kids a dose of cough medicine or pain reliever. The print is so fucking small I’m surprised anyone can see it. Sonny can so I’ve been asking him to read me the dosages to double check what I read. Driving, though, is becoming more difficult, especially at night. During the day I just have trouble reading street signs. That’s not a good thing for a person unfamiliar with the local streets – remember, I’ve only been here a little over a month. I end up driving really slow to be able to make sure I’m turning in the right place.

I really should be wearing my glasses when I drive at night, however. The oncoming headlights look like big starbursts coming at me so I have to keep my eyes focused on the line running down the right side of the road. Some of the roads around here are dark because there are no street lights, and they twist and turn constantly. I have to drive under the speed limit to be able to reach my destinations. That’ll change, though, and I can’t wait.

I’m getting the exam tomorrow morning, but because I wear bifocals, it’ll probably take a week for my new glasses to arrive. That sucks too because I really want to have them. You’d think the labs would be able to grind out special glasses in a couple of hours if they can make regular lenses in under an hour. Hasn’t technology caught up with that industry yet? Who do I get to blame if I drive through a corn field because my new glasses haven’t arrived but my old ones don’t work anymore? Does anyone but me take responsibility for that, or am I just supposed to sit at home for a week waiting until I can see perfectly before I drive at night again? I think the eyeglass place should really take some of the responsibility. It’s not my fault I need special lenses; I didn’t ask to get old, it just happened.

And speaking of getting old, why is it that I’m 43 and keep getting pimples? I never had them as a kid but they keep popping up on a regular basis now. Is this supposed to be a part of aging – granny zits? I mean, what the fuck? I haven’t seen that as a symptom of peri-menopause on any of the many lists I’ve checked. Shit, the doctor I saw in Independence at Swope couldn’t even tell me if I’m in the early stages. He claims there really isn’t any such thing. Then again, he’s only been practicing medicine for a little over three years – which would explain why he’s working in a clinic rather that opening his own office. He also told me, when I went to have my right arm checked because my last two fingers went numb when I put my elbow on a table, that there is no such thing as cubital tunnel syndrome; he claims there is only carpal tunnel syndrome.

Whatever. I did my research before I went to see him to get the diagnosis. I do research about everything, especially when it’s medical and is affecting my personal being. Both syndromes do exist and they affect different parts of the hand. In any case, I just yessed him constantly while I was in the office. I did the same thing when he told me that peri-menopause doesn’t exist. I’m thinking Melvin – that’s his name – needs a little more practice in the art of medicine. I don’t really think he gets enough. I believe peri-menopause does exist and that I’m there. My cycles have changed since I’ve had Dolly, other changes have taken place as well, and now the zits. They’re not the huge ones that you see on TV sitcoms where the character panics and looks like she has a huge crater sitting on her forehead; mine are more subtle. Just little annoying blemishes that creep up when I least expect them. Sometimes they even hurt – like the one beginning its appearance on the left side of my jaw. Sneaky little fuckers, they are.

I guess I’ll have to deal with them, though. I don’t see any other options. I’m wearing bifocals, dealing with fluctuating hormone levels, and descending back into puberty as far as my skin is concerned. What’s next – Depends? I don’t think so. My daughter got out of diapers two years ago and now she’ll have to deal with her mom going into them? Wouldn’t that be a hoot? This growing up shit really sucks. Maybe I’ll have dreams tonight about being young and beautiful again. Wait a minute – I’m still young and beautiful!! I know, I know, I’m being immodest. Whatever, it’s the zit’s fault; I take no responsibility for it. Besides, there’s a possible upside to all of these changes; maybe, just maybe, in a couple of months I’ll grow boobs. I lost them when I had Dolly and it would sure be nice to have them back. Wish me luck.

Until next time…peace to all.

More WOW! Signs

I have something seriously freaky to talk about tonight. Remember I said I’ve been talking to a woman who may have a home for me and the kids? Well that ties into something I posted back on May 18. You may have to go re-read my post titled “Signs” from that night to be able to put everything together. So I’ll back track a little to try to make all of this make sense.

The May post was detailing a bunch of signs that I’d been receiving while I was trying to get the move to Maryland put together. One part of it read “…I was on the phone with Ellen, and we were discussing my move to MD. The only place that has allowed me to put my name on the waiting list (It’s HUD-subsidized housing.) is a place in Columbia, MD. It’s about an hour away from Ellen, not exactly ideal in distance, but if that’s what has to be for the time being, then so be it. Anyway, we were talking about other places that this one management company had available and most of them were in Columbia. As we were talking, I realized something. We were talking about Columbia. Yea, so, get to the point.

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

Okay, so here goes with what happened tonight. This woman – I’ll call her Lila – and I have been speaking back and forth on the phone and trying to meet. She wants the kids and me to move into her mother’s home, on a barter system. I will be caregiver for her elderly mother, in exchange for a place to live. Her mother wants to live at home but Lila and her siblings all live out of town. She saw the ad I had posted on Craigslist letting people know that we need a place to live and, after speaking with me, she wanted to meet me in person, of course. (I’ll meet her sister and see the house on Wednesday but that’s beside the point right now.) Anyway, she called me tonight and asked if I could meet her at a local restaurant, so Ellen and I went together. Lila’s the sweetest person and I really enjoyed speaking with her.

The three of us chatted and laughed and got along great. At one point during the conversation Lila mentioned the name of her nephew and Ellen chimed in asking about the nephew’s last name. Turns out, Ellen knows the nephew and his dad, and has heard family stories about the nephew’s mom who is divorced from the dad, but is Lila’s sister. Talk about a small world. That tells me there is a reason this lady found me. We’re all connected in some way. Alright then, onward. We continued chatting and, before we left, Lila asked us if we were on Facebook, and we agreed to send friend requests.

The meeting ends on a very good note and Ellen and I headed home. We immediately sat down at Ellen’s laptop and she sent a friend request to Lila. A short while later I sent one from my computer. We were just chatting and listening to music on the computer in the kitchen when Ellen went back on to her Facebook account just to check it as she usually does. Lila had accepted both of our friend requests. So Ellen decided to check out Lila’s profile. Ellen noticed that Lila’s profile pic is of Lila’s tattoo – an outline of Colombia, South America. She had mentioned that her mom was Colombian but it was just in passing so I didn’t really think anything of it. So, just as I was about to remind Ellen that my friend Al was from Colombia (go back and re-read the excerpt from the May 18 post) it struck me – this was a HUGE connection to the Columbia references discussed earlier: HUGE. Now we understood why all the signs pointed to Columbia/Colombia. I know the city and the country are spelled differently but it doesn’t matter. Now we know which Colombia we’re talking about here. That just made both of us do a big WOW! while we sat trying to remember all my previous references.

So I obviously knew what my post tonight was going to be about, but I had to check one thing first. If you re-read the May 18 post you’ll notice the White House (Ellen and I said we’d be working there as advisors to Obama one day) and John Mellencamp references in there also, particularly the song “Pink Houses” being repeated. Before I began tonight’s post I did a little research. What I found out is that, not only did John Mellencamp once record for Columbia Records (Columbia again) but “On Sunday, January 18, 2009, Mellencamp performed "Pink Houses" at the Obama Inaugural Celebration at the Lincoln Memorial.” That’s a quote from Wikipedia, and we all know it’s not a reliable resource, but you can see a video of it for yourself if you look it up on Youtube. Now that’s seriously fucked up if you ask me. I still haven’t figured out why I got a marriage proposal from John in my dream but maybe that’ll come later; maybe not. Maybe it was just in there to get me to take notice of the dream itself. If he ever does propose, though, I’m accepting.

So that’s the scoop. Signs from four months ago are starting to tie into shit now and it’s really getting freaky. If you’ve never had it happen to you, you’ll just think it’s all a bunch of coincidence. Like I’ve said before, I don’t believe in coincidence. I believe things happen for a reason, especially when they’re a bunch of really far out and funky things. Who dreams of meeting President Obama and dusting pollen off his limo while contemplating a marriage proposal from John Mellencamp? Me, after I’ve asked for big, billboard-type signs from the Universe, that’s who. I asked for them, I got them; and it’s pretty fucking cool if you ask me. Now I’m going to go to bed and ask for some more signs; I can’t wait to see what they are.

Until next time…peace to all.

Tomorrow, Tomorrow...

Nothing much happened today; not that I can recall anyway. It was a Sunday like every other. The kids played, they argued, they played… Ellen and I went to storage to get some warmer clothes for Dolly. She didn’t have anything really warm and it’s getting cooler in the mornings now. She’ll be set for a while now. Other than that, running to the supermarket, things weren’t all that exciting. I’m tired right now so I may be forgetting something, but I don’t think so.

I called the lady about the place to live and she got back to me saying she’d call me later in the afternoon; she had some things to take care of first. I never heard from her so I just figured I’d wait to see her on Wednesday. That’s the day she and I initially decided to meet. Then, when I took the kids upstairs to get ready for bed, I couldn’t find my cell phone. Sonny kept calling it and said he could here it, Ellen did too, but I didn’t hear a thing. I’ve got bad hearing, though, so that doesn’t really say much. Anyway, I finally found it, a couple of hours later.

I remembered that the last time I saw it I had been sitting with Dolly on the sofa watching “Hannah Montana” and I got up to go into the kitchen. Dolly was still in the living room playing then ran outside onto the porch to play with the boys. She had also been playing with my laundry bag (I’d been doing laundry and she’d taken the bag before I got it back upstairs). I also remembered that I hadn’t seen her bring the bag back in. I went onto the porch, got the bag, dug around in it, through all of her things, and found my phone at the bottom. Whew! I guess I’ll be talking with little missy in the morning about that. Anyway, I checked to see if I’d missed and calls and the lady had called me around 7:00. Her message said she was busy with family, that she was sorry, but that we definitely would meet up on Wednesday when her sister is in town. I’ll call her tomorrow, per her request, to get that solidified.

I also have to go back to the Heartly House tomorrow to get the packet of stuff my caseworker has for me. I’ll do that when I pick up Dolly from school. Then we have to go to the Community Action Agency to see what, if any, help they can offer me. Maybe they’ll surprise me and come up with something that nobody else has so far. Everyone keeps offering me the same contacts so far – the exact same ones Ellen and I have already found over the last year. One little new one tomorrow would be great. Fingers crossed.

After I drop Dolly off at school I have to run to the second elementary school to enroll her there in the afternoon Pre-K. Then she’ll be able to start there on Wednesday and that will give me more time in my day. I will have to run and get her from Head Start and transport her to the Pre-K but that’s fine. It’s what has to be; I have no other choice. So I’ll be busy tomorrow, the kids are off from school on Tuesday for the primary elections, then I’ll have another busy day on Wednesday. Meeting with that lady; possibly meeting up with my friend Sylvia from Independence, MO who’s in town for work for a few days; and also getting an eye exam in the morning. I can’t wait for that since I haven’t had my eyes checked in almost four years. I’m getting older and can’t see anymore. It happens.

Sorry my posts aren’t very exciting; there just isn’t anything happening right now that’s causing me to jump out of my skin with excitement. I’m sure something noteworthy will happen soon. I hope it will, at least; I’m not sure of too much anymore. One thing I am sure about right now is that I’m tired and going to get some sleep. I’ll update about everything that happens tomorrow, tomorrow.

Until next time…peace to all.

A Better Today

Today was a good day. I didn’t have any funked up dreams; I actually had a dream that someone had an apartment for the kids and me at a subsidized rent. The people were only renting it for extra pocket money so it was something I could afford. Then I got an email this morning from a woman responding to my Craigslist ad who may actually have a place for the kids and me. I’m not going into too much detail right now because I don’t want to jinx it but it looks like something possible. I’ll write more when I know more.

Then Ellen and I took the kids to a street festival over here, aptly called “In the Streets.” It’s in downtown Frederick and a lot of the businesses have booths set up outside their shops, the streets are closed to traffic, and there are lots of activities for everyone to enjoy. It’s like a neighborhood block party for businesses to advertise their wares. The kids did some coloring and got little giveaway items from the different booths; Ellen and I checked out the scenery as we walked with the kids. The weather was beautiful – mid 70s – and we all had a good time. It was really crowded, though, and we did a lot of walking.

We came home late afternoon and I made some dinner for us; then Ellen and I went to a local restaurant/bar to see her friend Tom perform. He played acoustic guitar and sang; it was really enjoyable. The music was great, not too loud, and Tom did an excellent job. This place wasn’t too crowded which made it even more enjoyable. Sonny stayed home with the kids, which I really appreciated. I put them all in the boys’ room watching a movie, hoping they’d fall asleep rather quickly after all the exercise they got today. According to Sonny, they didn’t fall asleep right away but they didn’t give him any trouble, either. Nice. I wish they were that way with me.

The show ended about 10:30, we chatted for a short while afterward, then headed home. I watched a bit of TV and here I am; replaying the day’s events for you. I’m tired, my back hurts from all the walking I did today, I’m munching on sunflower seeds, and trying to decide whether or not to watch a movie on Netflix before I go to sleep. I know I won’t see the entire thing but I don’t feel like reading. Dolly is asleep in her brothers’ room so I may actually get to have my bed all to myself tonight. That would be nice; a special treat just for me.

If she stays in the other room I know she’ll be in here first thing in the morning to make sure I’m actually back like I told her I’d be. That’s okay as long as it’s not at the butt crack of dawn. It probably will be so I’ll just have her climb in my bed and snuggle. Maybe she’ll be able to fall asleep for a bit longer; then Mommy can fall asleep for a bit longer. We’ll see how it goes and I’ll fill you in later. For now, though, I’m outta here so I can try to find a movie to begin watching.

Until next time…peace to all.

I'm The Best I've Got

I have never been as angry with myself as I am right now. I have spent my life being lied to, cheated on, and beat up physically, mentally and emotionally. Every time it happens I swear to myself that I won’t ever let it happen again. I won’t put faith or trust into anyone or anything but myself. Then people start telling me that I can’t live that way; I can’t live without letting others in; I have to learn to trust and to have faith…blah, blah, blah. I believe them, too, because, what do I know? I’ve never had the opportunity to fully trust or believe because every time I’ve done it, I’ve gotten beat up again, in one form or another. But everyone says it gets better, and I believe them. Has anyone ever realized that the word LIE is right in the middle of BELIEVE? So here’s the deal – I’m done. I have finally learned that there is absolutely nobody I can count on but me, and that’s the way it will stay.

I’ve had friends that I’ve let go of for the simple fact that they were toxic. As much as they tried to make me believe they were there for me, they were only there for what they could get for themselves. The same goes for my relationships. Each and every one of the men I’ve had in my life has had an agenda that had nothing to do with me; it was all about what I could do for them, and each relationship was worse than the last. I guess my ex was right: I’m no good, I can’t do anything right, and I’ll never have anybody else. Sounds true enough to me. The truth hurts, but like I said the other night, I can accept it. It’s the way my life has always gone.

My mother lied to me enough to make me mistrustful of just about everyone I meet. Then she tried to blame that on the abuse I suffered at the hands of the shithead stepfather she brought into my life as a toddler. Thirty years later she was asking, “Why did you tell me he abused you? Maybe that’s why you built the wall you keep around you.” No, Mother, I built that wall because of you!!! Because of all the lies and bullshit you fed me over the years to try to make yourself look better than you really were. You fucked up and you would never admit it. Now it’s too late for me to even call you on it and I’m stuck with the consequences.

I’ve tried to put my faith in people – friends, family and strangers alike. It doesn’t work; I just keep getting screwed no matter which way I turn. I can’t deal with my family because most of them are so fucking selfish it makes me sick. I don’t even really know them, though; that’s just from what I’ve seen over the few visits I’ve had with any of them. That, too, would be the fault of my mother, though. She decided that, in order to keep her dirty little secrets, she needed to raise my sister and me halfway across the country from her/our family so they’d never see what a liar she really was. I was never given the opportunity to have any family around me. It’s no wonder I can’t stand family events – holidays, parties, get-togethers, whatever you want to call them; I hate them with a passion.

That’s okay for me, but my kids will never get to know any of my family because of that. The only family holidays they’ll spend will be with Paul’s family where they’ll learn about lying in its true form. Nobody in his family can tell the truth or, if they can, it’s so brutal that people get hurt left and right for no reason whatsoever. I hate that the kids will have to deal with that, but I have to let them find out what their family is really like for themselves; I can’t push my opinions on them. That wouldn’t be fair. I don’t like Paul’s family nor do I trust any of them. Like I said, Paul has said one true thing to me and I mentioned that above. Anything else he’s said has been a load of shit, and it’s the same with the rest of his family.

Nope, from now on it’s me and only me. And I’m going to make sure I ask all the right questions before I make any decisions; I’m going to ask so many questions that the person answering will get sick of me. I don’t care, though. I have the right to be fully informed before I make a move or invite anyone into my personal space. If something doesn’t feel right, I’m not doing it. Right now I’m being put on waiting list after waiting list. I’m going to do the same fucking thing from now on with everyone else. You want into my life, there’s a waiting list. Until I feel the time is right, everyone will wait for me.

People I’ve known for years suddenly don’t have time for me. The same people I’ve helped time and time again don’t seem to give a shit anymore. I can’t be bothered with that. It’s just more trust gone in little bits and pieces and that’s my fault for putting my trust and faith on the line. I’ve only got a handful of true friends remaining in my life. Yes, I’ve got over 100 on my Facebook friends list but they aren’t all true friends. Most of them couldn’t give a shit less about me or my life. They’re virtual acquaintances, as far as I’m concerned.

Do I want friends? Sure I do, who doesn’t? I’d love to have a relationship too but that’s never going to happen. I’d love to have someone to talk to when I really need to talk or gripe; and I’ve love to have someone other than a four year old to snuggle with when I decide to go to sleep. Guess what. Not happening. It’s not worth the risk to my personal stability anymore. I’m so lonely sometimes I can’t stand it but I’d rather be alone than take the chance that I’ll fuck up again and make another wrong choice along the way. I won’t risk doing it to myself, nor will I risk doing it to my kids. Paul’s fucked them up enough as it is, and I’m only making it worse right now. I’m going to do what I can to make things right for them, come Hell or high water. Then I’m finished letting people in at all. My kids will be stable and happy and can have hundreds of friends for all I care. I’ll stick with what I’ve got and leave it at that.

The Universe has dumped on me so many times recently that I can’t be bothered right now; perhaps not at all, that remains to be seen. I’m being ignored and forced to fend for myself, and I guess I’ll just have to deal with it. The way I see it, being lonely and without faith isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe that’ll change in the future but I can’t see it happening any time soon. Sometimes it’s the best people can do; and as long as I do my best for my kids, I’ll be fine. That’s as it should be.

Until next time…peace to all.

I Think I Can...

Didn’t post anything last night because I didn’t have anything to say; I thought my day was uneventful when I was sitting here thinking of a topic. Then I realized, right now, that there were a couple of things I could’ve mentioned. First, I had an appointment with a caseworker at the local DV shelter who gave me some more leads on housing. She’s also going to contact the garage owner that I contacted last week. He’s going to help me get my van ready for inspection so this girl is going to contact him and put in a good word for me. She’s also going to be able to pay for my inspection. YEA!! That’ll save me a little bit of money.

Plus, she’s got some vouchers for me to be able to get some work clothes; I’ll be able to start sending out resumes/cover letters to attorneys offering paralegal services and won’t have to show up in jeans and t-shirts. Not that I would have, but having more than one outfit would be beneficial; dontcha think? I have to go back and see her on Monday and she’ll have a packet of information ready for me to move forward. I think it’ll help me, anyway, because something else happened yesterday that added to the positive of that meeting.

When I got home, I got a phone call from the school I had Dolly enrolled in to attend Pre-Kindergarten. I spoke with the lady last week and sent her a letter telling her I was withdrawing Dolly so she could attend Head Start. I figured this lady was just calling to confirm receipt of the letter – I sent it via email – but she wasn’t. She was calling to tell me that a different elementary had an afternoon Pre-K spot open so Dolly could attend with them. I was really excited about that. I immediately called the other school and left a message for the person to whom I was referred.

She called me back today, while I was driving, so I didn’t answer. I didn’t even realize anyone would be in school since it was a holiday. The kids are off so I figured the school would be closed. Anyway, when I arrived at my destination I returned her call and she confirmed that there was an opening. She did explain, though, that they started at 12:20 rather than 1:00 the way the other school did. I asked if it would be okay for me to pick up Dolly from Head Start at 12:15 and get her to Pre-K by 12:30. She said it would be fine. YEA, again!!

So, tomorrow I’ll pick up Dolly’s file from the first school and take it to the new school on Monday. I’ll also fill out the enrollment paperwork and she’ll be set to start on Wednesday. They’re off on Tuesday for the primary elections. Since she starts at 12:20 she’ll also be getting out before 3:30 which is an added benefit. The boys get out at 3:25. Had she gone to a different elementary for afternoon Pre-K – the other two I contacted said she wasn’t eligible to attend being out of district – I would’ve either been driving across town delaying the pick-up at one school in favor of the other, or the boys would have had to begin walking home from school. I wasn’t too fond of that since it’s not all that close and I know they wouldn’t always stay together. Now, though, I have no problem; I can pick up everyone without delay.

Since I got the phone call about Dolly being able to attend afternoon Pre-K after Head Start on the same day I had that meeting with the caseworker I figure things must be improving cosmically for me. Perhaps the Universe has decided to work with me rather than against me for a while. That’s fine as long as it’s for longer than a day. I need some longevity here and can’t stand being helped then dumped just when things start going well. That’s when things get really frustrating and I start to fall into a funk all over again. I’m not getting my hopes up too high on the positive things just yet, though. I know, I should be more positive; and I actually was until a few months ago. I just can’t though; getting let down hurts too much.

On Monday I have an appointment with another agency here in town to discuss more housing options and some other help possibilities. I’m not sure what else they can offer but I’ll find out when I get there. If things are on the upswing for me I’m thinking the person I speak with will be able to offer more help than I’ve already had; we’ll see. In the meantime, I’m just going to try to keep looking up – I said “try” – and just take things as they come. I’ll get started on what I can tomorrow while the kids are in school and see where that takes me. For now, though, I’m going to get some sleep and hope for happy-rather-than-funked-up dreams.

Until next time…peace to all.

The Oldies

I’m sitting here listening to music on Winamp and my “collection” is pretty eclectic; I do believe I’ve mentioned that. I’ve got all kinds of stuff that I like: Cher, Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, Pink, Alan Jackson, Toby Keith, They Might Be Giants – you get the picture. It’s just a mish-mosh of a bunch of different things; most of it upbeat and danceable. I don’t know what made me think of this but I remember listening to many of these same songs while I was sitting at my desk, with a friend, back in the summer of 2007. Skid Row came on singing “I Remember You” and my friend, Robi (pronounced Robbie) started bopping and singing along. She was 27 at the time so I was shocked that she knew who Skid Row was. I believe I said to her something like, “You know who Skid Row is?” and she replied, through her dancing, and with a huge grin, with words I’ll never forget: “Oh, I love the oldies!!”

THE OLDIES!!?? Are you kidding me? The oldies? She did say “the oldies” right? Yep, she did. I smiled at her and asked, “Are you saying I’m old?” We both just laughed about it, but she was right. My music, the music I like from the 70s and 80s, is now considered “the oldies” to anyone under thirty. How sad is that? I find it ironic actually because I remember, as a small child, listening to music in the car with my mother and she listened to WCBS in NY. That was music from when she was young – Chuck Berry, Chubby Checker, The Dominos. To me that was “the oldies” and I still listen to those songs today. I’m wondering, though, is that music now considered “the ancients” or something of that nature?

I just think it’s funny how things have changed over time and how we have to sometimes explain something to someone because, even though he is an adult, the subject matter is before his time. I remember sitting in a PACT meeting one night on an oversized loveseat. If I sat all the way to the back of it, my feet didn’t touch the floor and I felt like Edith Ann – one of Lily Tomlin’s characters from “Laugh In.” I was reciting one of her little skits to the room and only one other person there understood what I was saying and actually remembered the show. The rest of the group just shook their heads saying they had no clue.

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to Ellen’s son Josh when he took a Heineken out of the fridge and someone else in the room commented with the old “Grab a Heiney” slogan. I, forgetting who I was talking to, asked Josh if he remembered the old “Grab a Heiney” t-shirts. He just smiled and shook his head. So I asked again as if it would jog his memory. Right about then I remembered the shirts were from the 70s and he wasn’t even born until 1984. Ellen laughed and asked me “How old do you think he is?” Big DUH to me. Someone born in the year I graduated from High School won’t remember those shirts. ACK!! He was born the year I graduated from High School. That makes me old, right? Gosh, I hope not. I’d rather think of it as knowledgeable, experienced, and/or wise.

My kids really made me feel old one day. I was showing them a record that I’d found in a box in our basement. I used to dance to the record in ballet class when I was three, about 36 years prior when I was discussing it with the kids (it would be 40 years ago now, as I write this). The boys just looked at the record, in all its vinyl splendor, with wide, disbelieving eyes, and Ty said, “WOW!! That’s a big CD!” I almost fell over with laughter. I explained that it wasn’t a CD, that it was a record. “A what?” Then I took them over to the turntable – yes, I’ve got one and it works – and played the record on it. The sound was scratchy but still listenable. They thought it was great that they got to see this “thing” from when Mom was a kid. What I forgot was that they had only grown up with CDs; no records, no eight tracks (I had one of those too), no dial phones, no dial TVs.

It made me think of those emails I get that say, “If you can remember these, you’ve lived.” They go on to list all the things we – the 40s generation – had or didn’t have as kids that are different today. I’m thinking I need to find a museum that shows what life was like “back then” so my kids will understand the differences between then and now. I’d like to think it would change their attitudes about how they think things should be rather than how they are. I don’t really think it would, though. I’ve tried explaining it to them in the past and it only makes an impression for a few short hours. Seeing it in person, however, might have more of an impact on them. I’ll have to research and see where I can find such a place; if I can’t, I’ll make one. Yep, just another thing to put on my to-do list that will be rolled over from day to day.

Don’t ask where this post came from tonight because I have no clue. I was just listening to music when Robi popped into my head and things just rolled from there. It’s a good thing, too, because I had no clue what I was going to write about tonight. Sometimes, the words just need to be said whether they have great meaning or not. Tonight’s fall into the latter category. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have something more interesting to say. You’ll have to tune in to find out, though.

Until next time…peace to all.

Dad's Bad Choice

Maybe it’s just me but I don’t think so. Why is my ex so determined to make bad choices for himself that will fuck the kids up even more? If it’s to hurt me, it’s not working. It’s the kids that are suffering. It’s the little shit and the big shit. When they were with him for those two weeks a month ago he got their hair cut. Not only had I just cut the boys’ hair but he and I discussed not cutting Dolly’s hair because she likes it long. Paul decided that it is a rule in his house that all the kids get their hair cut before school. The reason for this new rule: if I can let Zach get his ears pierced after Paul said he didn’t like the idea, then he could get Dolly’s hair cut after I said I didn’t want it cut. It’s a matter, to him, of: If you can do it, so can I.

What he doesn’t get is that the ear piercing was Zach’s choice. Zach came to me and asked to get his ears pierced; I didn’t ask him if he wanted it done; and I made Zach wait almost a year before actually doing it, and even then, he’s the one who came to me – again – asking to get his ears pierced. Paul, on the other hand, told the kids they were getting their hair cut, probably just to spite me. In the end it’s the kids, or Dolly more specifically, who got hurt. Granted, he didn’t get the back of her hair cut, but he did get bangs cut into her hair. She was almost in tears the other day because she wanted a hair pony on top (the top and sides pulled up on top of her head into a pony tail) and, regardless of how hard I tried, I couldn’t do it because of the bangs. She wanted it all off her face and I couldn’t do it. I haven’t mentioned it to him yet because I’m waiting until the next time he gripes at me over something.

I almost mentioned it tonight and then bit my tongue to the point that it was painful. He had called to say hi to the kids this afternoon, just as we were getting ready to go out for a while; and he asked me to call him when we got home. Well, I forgot to call when we got back but I did remember to call later in the evening. He wanted to let me know that he’s moving out of the apartment above his mother’s house. He’s moving in with his pseudo-girlfriend. I wasn’t really stunned by the message as much as by the reason. See, last year he was going to move in with her; they were going to get a house together. Two weeks after he told me, they were no longer a couple. A few months later Ty mentioned something about Marcy (not her real name), Daddy’s girlfriend and I had to tell Ty that they weren’t a couple any more.

Ty was pretty confused because, “Why? They didn’t even go out for a year!” I believe it was a little longer than a year but I couldn’t explain anything to Ty because I didn’t know. I suggested he ask Paul. Ty never did but when Paul mentioned something to me about her helping him get his plane ticket to help us move I asked if they were still together. His answer: “Sort of. She’s got stuff going on in her life and I have stuff going on in mine so we just decided to hang out when we can.” It was then that I told him how confused the kids are with his chain of girlfriends and that he needs to talk to them about it. Of course, he never did.

So imagine my surprise when he told me tonight that they’re getting a house together and that he’s already started moving stuff out of the apartment. Again, my surprise wasn’t because they’re moving in together but not two months ago they weren’t even an official couple and, even better was his reason for wanting to move in with her. According to Paul, “There are just things going on with the apartment and I just don’t want to stay there.” Now that’s a reason to move in with a woman, right? Sounds like true love to me. It’s pretty close to the reason he moved in with his last babe in 2008, I believe. He had moved back to NY in September of 2007, began dating her and in January or so of 2008 she moved into that same apartment he’s leaving now. Why did she move in? As Paul put it, “It’s just easier than paying for a place for her and a place for me.” I am now wondering what he told people about why he and I moved in together.

So now he’s moving in with this chick, Marcy, for the sake of convenience. Not only the convenience of him having a second paycheck in the household, but the convenience of him having someone to help him care for the kids when he does get them. He can’t do it by himself and his mother, brother and sister can’t always take off work on the weekends the kids will be there. Now, this really isn’t any of my business except that it is. He’s confusing the shit out of the kids and doesn’t care; yet I’m the one who gets to pick up the pieces of the breakdowns and meltdowns the kids have when they return home to me. I’ll explain a bit so you understand.

When Paul first left he moved in with his mistress. He and I agreed that the boys, then three and two, would not meet her for a couple of months. They needed to get used to being with Dad without Mom. Well, so much for him agreeing to anything. He brought the kids into the house with her that next weekend because he wanted to make sure they liked her and a whole bunch of other selfish reasons that I pointed out to him. He must have used the word “I” eight times in his three minute explanation of why he broke the agreement. So the boys went from seeing Daddy with Mommy to seeing Mommy alone and Daddy with a stranger lady.

Then Mistress threw him out for domestic violence so he got a place of his own. The boys were now visiting Daddy alone although he would, most often, bring them back early because they didn’t want to stay with him (they were afraid) or because he had other things to do and just didn’t want to be bothered having them there. That only lasted a few months when he realized he couldn’t live in Kansas alone and make the bills. He couldn’t find a girlfriend willing to split the tab, I guess. He decided his only option was to move back to NY and live in the apartment above his mother’s house. Remember I said that was in September of 2007.

When the kids went to NY in July of 2008 he was living with New Babe and the kids weren’t prepared for that. Now they were going from seeing Dad alone (in Kansas) to going to visit him and having another stranger woman there. The boys were six and five, and Dolly was two. Mind you, this was the first time Dolly had ever spent any time with Daddy at all so it was all new to her to have Daddy in his house with a lady. They spent two weeks there with Daddy and New Babe who, by the way, was supposed to be Upstate visiting her brother so Paul could have time with the kids. Yea, that didn’t happen. She spent every single waking minute with him and the kids. I told you, he doesn’t know how to spend any time with the kids all by himself.

They return home and a few months later New Babe is out of the picture. Guess what? I told him he had to explain it to the kids; I was tired of doing his dirty work. He told them, I think, but not until one of them mentioned something about New Babe and all he said was that she didn’t live there any more. No real explanation or anything. That’s confusing to a kid, especially Zach who already had trust issues from the sudden disappearance of Dad, and the just-as-sudden appearance and disappearance of Mistress. Zach had then been thrown into a situation with New Babe who was soon out of the picture.

Cut to now. They knew Dad had a girlfriend, Marcy, last year, not too long after New Babe was gone. Then Marcy wasn’t Dad’s girlfriend; when they visited Dad a month ago Marcy was Dad’s girlfriend; now Dad is moving in with Marcy. Not to mention that Daddy is moving to his fifth place in just as many years. LET’S NOT FUCK WITH THE HEADS OF CHILDREN TOO MUCH NOW!! I WOULDN’T WANT THEM TO KEEP THEIR SANITY OR ANYTHING!! The reason Zach clings to me like Velcro is because I’m the only constant he’s had in his life since the day he was born. This poor child has such trust issues it’s not even funny.

I’m not saying any of this to Paul. I started to say something to him and stopped speaking after the first utterance hit my throat. I just stopped talking and told him I’d get the kids so they could say good night to him. I think he knows I had something to say but stopped; I just think he probably thinks I have a problem with him moving in with her. I couldn’t care less whom he’s living with as long as my kids aren’t being put in the middle of anything ugly. With Mistress there was a lot of fighting between them that the boys had to endure and they even hid in their room to get away from it. With New Babe there wasn’t anything that I know of but the kids were only there for two weeks.

I know shit happened during this last visit but that was between Paul and the kids, no other women involved. With Marcy in the picture now, especially during visits, I’m going to make sure my kids know exactly what to do if and when they get scared of anything they see or hear while they’re there. I’m not going to have them endure the bullshit they’ve endured in the past. It’s not fair to them and I won’t tolerate it. I just wonder if he even gives a shit about what he does to them. I know the answer to that; I just ask it in the hopes that the answer will actually change one day – even though I know it won’t. My kids will continue to suffer at the hands of their Dad and I’ll continue to come to the rescue. That’s my job and I wouldn’t change it for anything in the World.

Until next time…peace to all.