Well, for me Christmas is over and I couldn't be happier. I seriously don't like holidays that require me to buy gifts for the people I love. I buy my kids things all the time so I don't need a specific holiday to tell me that I need to buy them more. What I really don't like about gift-giving holidays, though, especially Christmas, is the way it changes people.
Most of my friends love the holiday and profess it all the time but there are some who get caught up in the commercial aspect of it rather than the giving/sharing aspect of it. I see strangers like that also. Since I really hate shopping of any kind I try to do all my Christmas shopping all in one day. This year I did it in four hours and was done, done, done. And I must say that I'm probably the only person in the store with a scowl on my face. I really do hate shopping.
But most of the people I see that are smiling aren't necessarily smiling because of the "joy of the season", they're smiling because they just got the best, most expensive gift for someone that they could find. I watch people when I'm out - it's kind of a hobby of mine - and I saw couples in Walmart comparing prices on toys for their kids just so they could get the one that was more expensive. I kid you not. Just because it costs more, people, doesn't mean it's better. Besides, is your kid going to know that you bought the more-expensive toy? I don't think so.
I saw people in electronics doing the same thing with TVs, video games, etc. What does it matter if the TV is five inches bigger than the other one? Is the person you're buying it for going to throw a hissy fit because they got the 32" instead of the 37"? If so perhaps that gift recipient needs a reality check. Why can't people just be grateful for what they get instead of complaining about what they didn't get?
My son Zach said the best thing to me today. I'd done my shopping with lists in hand from each of my kids. I bought what I could get and what I could afford from the lists, and it wasn't much. Then I added to their gifts with things I wanted to buy for them that I could also afford and that I thought they'd like. My gifts and Santa's gifts get mixed up under the tree so they have no clue where any gift came from other than something that may have come from a friend.
I knew my kids were hoping to get certain things that I just couldn't afford, especially Zach. He desperately wanted a video game that wasn't under the tree. After he'd finished opening all his gifts he looked at me with a great big smile and said, "Mom, I didn't really get a lot of things from my list but what I did get I really like." No complaining, no crying, no "why didn't Santa make sure I had such-and-such?" and I felt really good hearing those words. All my kids felt the same way and I was pleased. I knew I'd done a good job helping them to understand that we can be grateful with what we've got rather than bitching about what we don't have. I was proud of all of them.
Most people, however, don't feel the same way at Christmastime even though they say they do. There's too much spending and competing to get the best of everything for those they love and it really makes me sick. But the holiday is over now and I can let go of my stress and relax and feel that my family had a good holiday without going into debt the way that so many others have done this year and years previously.
My stress will start again around October next year the way that it does every year, but I won't think about it now. Now I'm going to concentrate on my favorite holiday of the year - New Year's Eve. In my mind everything gets wiped clean with the turning of a new year and we all get to start over. I'm going to concentrate on all the positive things that are going to happen for my kids and me, and all those we know and love, in the coming year and that's where I'm going to stay. It's better than stress and negativity, and it comes more easily and makes me feel better; and it doesn't require any shopping. :)
Until next time...peace to all.
Our second trip to the ER was worse than the first. When we went on Friday night I figured it would be busy because it was the weekend; what I didn't count on was the ER being twice as busy on at Monday noon than it had been on Friday night. The place looked like a sold-out movie theatre when we arrived at 12:20 on Monday. It took us two hours just to get triaged and another hour after that before they called us into an exam room in the back.
From there we played the waiting game all friggin' day and night. The ER resident came in first and took the history of the problem with Ty's knee which started two weeks prior and ended up where we were that day. He looked at Ty's knee, said he was going to speak with his supervisor to find out what was going to be done. A while a nurse came in to insert a j-hook into Ty's arm to take blood and to make sure they had an line in place in case they needed to hook up an IV later. Ty had all that done on Friday but they wanted to re-do everything on Monday. He wasn't happy, he doesn't like needles.
The ER resident came back in to tell us the on-call orthopedist would be in to see us in a while. Hours later he did come in and I had to repeat the entire story again. He examined Ty and said he wanted to wait for the labs to come back so he could speak to his supervisor, another ortho, to decide where to go from there. During all of this they wouldn't let Ty eat or drink anything in case any procedures needed to be done.
Ty had eaten a bowl of cereal before we went to the PCP because we thought he'd be cleared to go to school and he would've missed breakfast by then. I hadn't eaten since Sunday evening when I had dinner and I wasn't going to eat when Ty wasn't allowed to eat; it didn't seem fair to me. Both of us were hungry and tired of waiting but we had no other choice. So we waited some more.
The ortho came back in with his supervising ortho and I had to go through the story yet again. Don't doctors actually speak to one another or do they just give little bits and pieces of information? After I finished the story for the umpteenth time she examined Ty and both orthos decided that he needed to have his knee tapped to see if there was any sort of infection in it. His blood work had come back and still show some sort of inflammation even though everything else was as it was supposed to be.
At 10:30 that night - we'd been there for 10 hours already - the ortho came in to tap Ty's knee but then we had to wait another hour for those results to come back. When he got back to us just before midnight he said the result did show an infection in Ty's knee and that they were going to do an irrigation on it Tuesday morning to clean it out, and that they'd put him on IV antibiotics to clear up any remaining bacteria. Ty was permitted to eat, though, even though most surgical patients are NPO after midnight. The ortho convinced his supervisor, who would be doing the procedure, to let Ty eat up until 1:30 so he wouldn't be completely famished by the next day.
I ran down to the cafeteria and got us a small feast. It was really good food but tasted even better, I'm sure, because we were both so hungry. They'd also told us that they didn't have any available rooms in the hospital so we'd be staying in the ER for the night and Ty would be put in a room after his procedure. So we ate and got comfortable - he in the hospital bed, I in the rocking recliner that opened all the way into a bed. We put a movie on Netflix on my laptop and soon Ty was asleep. I was just falling asleep at 2:30 when the nurse came in and said they had a room for Ty and were getting ready to move us. Seriously? I was exhausted as it was.
They moved us to a temporary room where Ty went to sleep right away but I didn't fall asleep again until almost 3:30; about five minutes later both orthos were in the room discussing the procedure. According to them it was 7:00 in the morning. It sure didn't feel that way to me. But I got up and got all our stuff packed up again since they weren't sure if Ty was going back to that room after the procedure or if he was being put into a regular room.
The procedure went quickly; it only took about 45 minutes total. Paul arrived after they'd taken Ty in; he was late because he woke up late and also made Zach and Dolly late for school. He got them on the bus on time the morning before; what was so difficult about doing it a second day in a row? Apparently it was really difficult for him. Whatever, it was done. So Ty was moved back to the temporary room after the procedure and seemed to be doing fine.
Paul left and later that evening - I have no clue what time it was because I was too exhausted to even know what day it was - they moved us into a regular room. It was private, we had our own bathroom, we each had our own TV, and the couch actually folded into a bed for me. Maybe I could actually get some solid sleep unlike the sleep I'd gotten - or had not gotten - in the rocking recliners in the other rooms. That was not to be, however.
Nurses came in during the night to take vitals and check Ty's knee, as is usual for a hospital. A person is supposed to get rest and heal but it's impossible with people coming and going at all hours of the day and night. And, per protocol, they were there at 6:30 Wednesday morning to do their jobs again, waking both Ty and me yet again. Just a few minutes later the resident ortho came in to check Ty's knee and remove the drain from it but Ty was being really uncooperative so I had to leave the room before I flipped. When I got back to the room Ty was in a better mood.
Over the next couple of hours doctors and nurses came and went and finally gave us the okay to be discharged, with a list of instructions to follow. That's how it always is, we all know that. But we didn't care, we just wanted to go home. So almost exactly 48 hours after we entered the ER that second time we were back in the van and heading to the comfort of our home. Both of us were exhausted and cranky and wanted a break from each other; we'd been together almost 24-7 since Friday when I picked him up from school.
It was all worth it, though, because Ty is doing much better; he hasn't had any fever since the procedure was done, he hasn't had any pain meds at all since we've been home, and he's actually walking without the crutches and in a much better mood than he had been in when this all started last Thursday. I just wish it could have all be taken care of with less waiting and faster service. The hospital we were in is for children only so you'd think they'd have quicker methods of doing the work they need to do just to get the children in and out as quickly as possible. Children aren't the best patients, my son being a prime example of that.
But all is well now, just a couple of follow-up visits with doctors over the next two weeks and then Ty will be back in school after the holidays and everything will be back on schedule. I'm just hoping nothing like this happens again with any of my kids because I may have to hurt someone if I ever have to sit in the ER for that length of time again. If I do they may be checking me into the psych ward of the adult hospital across the street. Although, knowing how the children's hospital works, the adult hospital may be worse and I could wait a week just to get locked in a rubber room. Let's hope I never find out.
Until next time...peace to all.
I can't believe I haven't been here since the 11th. I've actually lost track of time these past few days, and it started last Friday. When Ty got off the bus on Thursday he was complaining that his knee hurt him so we wrapped it and iced it figuring it would be fine the next day. He got up, said he felt okay and I sent him of to school. Two hours later he called me from school saying he could barely move his leg so the nurse wanted me to pick him up. Before I left the house I called his PCP to make an appointment and it all started there.
We saw a nurse practitioner who took all our information - he'd been ill two weeks prior with a fever of 102* for about four days, and was fine after that. His brother and sister had the same virus so I didn't think anything of it. Every few days or so Ty would say he didn't feel well and would have a fever of just over 100* but a few hours later would say he felt fine. No big deal. Then his knee came into play so it needed to be checked.
The nurse practitioner was having trouble coming up with a diagnosis so she consulted a doctor who advised they take blood work and that we get an x-ray. We headed home after the x-ray but when she called me with the blood results it showed an inflammation so she sent us to the ER for further testing and a consult with the on-call orthopedist. She thought his knee may be septic from the virus he'd had so off we went.
We sat in the ER from 7:00 that night until 3:00 the following morning only to be told that his blood work did show an inflammation but he wasn't showing any signs of a septic knee. He was having trouble moving it but he could move it, and it wasn't swollen, red or hot; the ortho chalked it up to an MCL strain and sent us home after giving Ty a knee immobilizer and me specific instructions on what to look for in case he got worse. If he did I was to return to the ER; if he didn't we were to follow-up with his PCP on Monday morning, and with the ortho later in the week.
Ty was fine all weekend long, no fevers, no pain, no nothing to indicate he had a problem at all. He was supposed to have gone to his dad's house that weekend but chose not to go; Zach and Dolly did go so it was just Ty and me all weekend. Zach and Dolly came home on Sunday and went to school on Monday. I made Ty an appointment with a doctor at the PCP's office for that morning.
He showered and started to complain that his knee was starting to hurt again. We figured it was from him actually using it since Friday since he still had no fever or swelling. By the time we reached the PCP, however, he had a fever of 100.9* and his knee was swollen and had a visible cyst in the back of his leg. Needless to say the doctor definitely thought it was infected and sent us back to the ER. We stopped back by our house to grab his overnight bag that was still packed from Friday's visit. He was supposed to take it to his dad's but we took it with us just in case they admitted him. Since we'd gotten home so late and were both so exhausted the bag stayed untouched in the living room all weekend.
Anyway, I grabbed the bag and my laptop and we headed back to the ER in downtown Kansas City and started another adventure that I'll finish tomorrow night. I'm way too exhausted to finish it now since I've only had about 18 hours of sleep between Sunday and tonight. I'm hoping I'll get some decent sleep tonight so I'll be rested and in a much better mood tomorrow. For now I'll leave you with this part of the story and just say goodnight, happy dreams.
Until next time...peace to all.
Last night I went on a little Facebook 'unfriending' spree. Anyone in my bloodline is no longer a friend, and many of them have been blocked. Why? Because as far as I'm concerned my family consists of my kids and a few close friends. I have no blood relations outside of these four walls and I don't care.
I haven't spoken to some members of my family for years simply because I don't like them. Other members haven't spoken to me probably because my mother didn't allow me to be around them very much when I was growing up so there really isn't any relationship there. That's fine with me. From here on out I can honestly, and without regret, say that I don't have any blood relatives other than my little bitty family right here in my home.
You may think it's sad and may be wondering why I'm telling you this, or even why I did what I did. I'm telling you because I can, because this is my outlet. I did what I did because apparently my family has a problem with the way they think I live. They don't even know me yet they feel they have the right to judge me. Interesting.
Whatever. It is what it is and they're entitled to their opinions, but so am I. I don't need toxic people in my life; I need people who are positive, who actually know me, and who don't feel the need to judge me based on my past or present. I don't feel bad disconnecting from anyone who feels the need to try to make me feel bad about myself; I have my kids, my friends, and my work, and I'm happy that way. I don't need to be a target for anyone.
A little closure on a very long and negative past is just what I need and now I can move forward without having to be involved in all the family drama, especially as the subject of it. I was left behind years ago and tried for a long time to make sense of it. Now I couldn't care less, I know where I stand and I'm okay with it. It's easier for me this way and I know I'll be much happier knowing that all the negativity is behind me.
Until next time...peace to all.
What the heck is a "real girl", does anyone know? Can anyone explain that to me? I'm asking for a reason. In my life I've had four long-term relationships, with occasionally dating between them and each guy, in some way, has accused me of not being a "real girl." When I asked why I was given these answers, or variations thereof:
1) You always dress in jeans and Tees/sweatshirts;
2) You don't like shopping, or going out, all the time;
3) You don't ask for anything (gifts, money, assistance, etc.)
4) You don't wear make-up, jewelry;
5) You like 'weird' gifts;
6) You're like one of the guys.
I'm sure there were other answers, I just can't think of them off the top of my head; these all came flooding to the forefront just now. But they don't make any sense to me. So I'm asking you, the reader, do these qualities define what a "real girl" is?
I dress in jeans and Tees because I'm comfortable wearing them. I don't like dressing up unless I'm going to a "fancy" event. Most of my time is spent at home, running errands, or volunteering at the kids' schools. Why would I dress up to sit at home all day, or to go food shopping? My ex used to buy me clothing that he would've liked to see me in, but it wasn't my style: spandex dresses, print blouses, etc. Then he'd complain that I never wore any of it. We never went anywhere worthy of clothing like that.
With him and my other exes we only went to local dives if we ever did go anywhere. I'm not dressing up for that. Paul even complained that I never dressed up for when he got home from work. I was home all day with two toddlers spilling food, wiping their noses on me, causing chaos. I'm certainly not going to dress up in spandex and heels to vacuum the floor. What the fuck? I do wear dresses on occasion but I have to be in the mood.
I don't like shopping at all. I don't like crowds, I don't like rude people, and most times when I have to go shopping I run into inconsiderate, rude people who seem to lack any sort of common sense. I don't need to deal with that. So I do my food shopping in the mornings and make lists of anything else I need to I can get in and out of the stores as quickly as possible. And I've already mentioned that I'm a homebody; restaurants and movies are expensive, and bars are not my scene. I'd rather stay home.
I don't ask for gifts because anything I want I can get myself; I don't ask for money because I've usually got all I need; and I don't ask for assistance because whatever needs to be done I can do and get it done correctly. My exes all compared me to their previous girlfriends who were constantly pointing out things in store windows and "hinting" that they'd like to have it. I don't do that, sorry to disappoint.
I wore make-up when I was younger, at the age when my mom first gave me permission to and all my friends were wearing it. Then, at age 14 I stopped wearing it because it was too much trouble and a waste of time. I haven't worn it on a regular basis since; the only time I put on make-up is, again, for a "fancy" occasion or when the mood strikes, but it has to strike hard. And I do wear jewelry - an 'angel power' ring on my right hand, and three earrings in each ear. Why do I need more than that?
By "weird gifts" they were referring to the fact that I like practical things rather than showy things. I don't wearing diamonds or gold - any jewelry I wear is white gold or silver; I prefer to pick out my own clothing; I don't need fancy bath oils and gels or anything like that. I'd rather get a vacuum cleaner, or a basket of cleaning supplies, something that's useful to me that will save me money. The best gift anyone can give me is a gift card so I can use it when and how I need to. Nobody understands that.
And I have no clue what "one of the guys" means, I can only guess. I think it means that I have no problem joining a discussion with a group of men rather than sitting with the women bitching about women who aren't there. I don't like to gossip, I don't like to spend my time griping and complaining about my man, and I certainly don't want to have a girls' day at the mall. So does that qualify me as one of the guys? I don't know, do you?
I'm just me and I didn't realize there were specific criteria to qualify me to be a "real girl." What does it matter anyway? Why can't I just be me and not have anyone making fun of me because I can belch with the best of them? What? Belching isn't lady-like? Sorry, but I'm not holding it in; I'm not disgusting with it but a burp is a burp and it needs to be released.
I'm not going to dress all girly-girl, or change who I am, just to get and keep a guy's attention; I have nobody to impress. You can either take me as I am or walk away, I don't care. I still want to know what a "real girl" is though so if any of you have an explanation I'd love to hear it. In the meantime I'm just going to continue being me, the not-real-girl that I am.
Until next time...peace to all.
A friend told me the other day that my posts seem to be coming from my comfort zone lately and I guess they are. I think it's because my life has brought me back to my comfort zone and I don't really know how to step out of it right now. Everything that happens on a day-to-day basis is the same, nothing changes, nothing exciting happens and, for the most part, I'm happy that way. I don't like surprises, I don't like drama...so it's just easier for me to discuss the commonplace events that occur here rather than my hopes and dreams he said I don't discuss anymore. I'd like to talk about more but something holds me back; it's safer that way.
The reason I write here is really because I don't have many people to discuss anything with without feeling like I sound like an idiot. Don't get me wrong, my friends would never say that to me but I feel like they're thinking it. Sometimes when I'm here I feel the same way but I don't have to see the face of the person reading it and notice that he or she is trying to stifle a laugh. That's because I feel like the things I think about don't make sense to anyone but me. See, most of my thoughts are fantasies that I quash with my own fears, whether rational or irrational.
For instance, the other day I was feeling lonely so I was thinking about how nice it would be to have a man in my life. I was watching TV and saw a great lead character and how great of a partner he was to his mate and I thought of all the good things that would come of me having a guy like that in my life - I wouldn't be lonely all the time, I'd have a grown-up to talk to occasionally, I'd have someone to hold my hand when I'm feeling down or someone to rub the pain out of my shoulder. I thought of how nice it would be to be able to just lean my head on someone's shoulder while we watch TV; and none of it has to lead to some sort of sex-capade all the time. Then I talked myself out of it.
I started thinking that caring men, men who give as much attention to their woman as they do to themselves, don't really exist because I've never met one - remember, my ideas of men only come from movies and TV. No man I've met in my life, whether friend, significant other, family member, or stranger, has ever been even remotely close to what my idea of a great partner is supposed to be. Then I watched the show a little longer and changed my mind again - maybe, just maybe, men like that do exist. Maybe there is one for me. Uh-oh...hear comes my reality leaking in again.
Even if I were to meet a guy like that I probably won't ever find out how great he is because I won't give him the chance. Why? Because too much from my past spouts up to the present. The ugly words that have been said to me, the emotional scarring and psychological damage that've been done, my total lack of self-esteem because of all of it come creeping in to flush the fantasy away.
I start thinking that, even if Great Guy did come along he'd find out who I really am and run screaming for the hills as fast as he can. If he's my age or older he won't want to take on the responsibility of my three kids since most men my age have kids who are grown. If he's a little younger than me and doesn't mind my kids he may want to add to the family and that won't happen because I'm not having anymore kids.
Then I add to the mix that even if he wanted my kids and no more of his own he wouldn't want me because of my physical appearance. Pretty face, yes, but it goes along with a not-so-attractive body; a body that could be better if I had the resources and ambition to make it better but why do that when the baggage from my past won't allow any guy to want to stick around too long anyway.
Just to get all that ugly crap off my mind I'll turn back to the TV and watch another show with some really great lead character and that sends me back to square one all over again. It's a vicious cycle with me and I don't know how to get out of it. Most of the time I'm okay being alone, I've said that before, but there are times when I just feel really alone, even with my kids around.
I've been through four years of counseling and that helped some but we never got to a point where we discussed dating or how I'd feel or handle it. Not that I'm in any place to date right now, and I certainly don't want to date right now - I'm thinking future through all of this - but it would be nice to know what to do if and when the opportunity arises. I guess I'll just figure it out when the time comes.
But, see, this is why I don't really talk to my friends about things like this, it sounds silly and childish to me. I don't know how it sounds to you but I don't have to see you as you read it so no harm done here. It's just a bunch of my jumbled thoughts written down for all to see and, even though I started to cry when I began writing, I'm actually shaking my head and laughing at my own stupidity right now.
However, it is what it is and it's just something I'll have to learn to deal with since I don't know how to change my odd thought processes. I do, but not always about stuff like this. Anyway, maybe I made you laugh, maybe you're just thinking I'm pathetic, maybe you feel sorry for me. I don't know and right now I don't care. I'm tired so I'm going to watch a little TV before I go to sleep and perhaps have a happy dream. Those I can handle; it's my reality that gives me issues.
Until next time...peace to all.
Today had to be one of the worst holiday's I've ever experienced. There are only two holidays I actually like - Thanksgiving and New Year's Eve - and Thanksgiving was ruined for me today to the point that I don't ever want to celebrate this holiday again.
My kids are out of school this week from Wednesday through Friday, and, of course, the weekend. Five days of being home with me all day long, every single day. Yesterday morning they started fighting with one another almost as soon as they got out of bed; it was about 9:30 in the morning and Zach and Dolly were at each other's throats. That was after Zach and Ty had already had a minor argument over I have no idea what. Zach's and Dolly's fight put me over the edge and I sent everyone upstairs to their rooms.
The fighting yesterday continued, off and on, all day long; even in the Dollar General while I was buying a few things we needed around the house. I don't shop on Black Friday, I don't even leave the house, so I wanted to make sure all my errands were finished yesterday. The kids, though, didn't seem to care that we were shopping, they just went at it like they were the only two people in the world.
Bedtime last night arrived and all was quiet; and this morning even started out just fine. There were a few minor skirmishes between Dolly and Zach but nothing that didn't fade right away. We were all watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV and playing Charades and Apples to Apples for a few hours. Everyone was laughing and giggling and enjoying each other like we were a family. That's the way it's supposed to be, right? That's what I thought.
I had the turkey in the oven and the kids helped me get the rest of the dinner started; and then decided they needed a snack. Their snack consisted of Halloween candy that was still sitting around and that's when everything went downhill. The boys started arguing over who had more candy left and who needed to share with whom, and on and on it went. No matter how hard I tried to interject and give suggestions the fighting wouldn't stop.
Ty was yelling at Zach and Zach was yelling at me and my brain was about ready to explode. I stayed calm, I didn't explode or get angry or anything and then Zach just burst at the seams. He threw all his candy on the floor and started screaming at the top of his lungs about how much he hates this family and especially me because I'm just rude, mean, nasty, and don't care about him. He stomped up the stairs as loudly as he could screaming at me the entire time.
That was all I could take. I sent everyone upstairs and told them not to come down because I couldn't be around them. I told them to each pick a different bedroom and go be alone and that set Zach off even worse because he wanted my bedroom but Ty already claimed it. I cleaned up the candy from all over the floor and threw it away so there wouldn't be anymore fighting about it, and then I began finishing up the meal without their help.
There was extremely loud banging on one of the bedroom doors and I took as much of it as I could take before I went upstairs to find out what it was. Zach had come out of his room and was kicking my bedroom door because Ty wouldn't let him in there. I dealt with that issue leaving Zach screaming at me all over again. I came back downstairs and finished cooking.
I was so angry I could barely see straight and I really didn't want to be around any of the kids at all for the rest of the day. They had to eat, though, so I made them sit in the kitchen and eat alone while I sat on the sofa by myself. I was calmer that way. When they finished eating I at whatever Zach and Dolly had left on their plates and I cleaned up the kitchen and baked the pies. Twice while I was waiting for the pies to bake Zach came downstairs and got angry because I wouldn't instantly forgive him and he started screaming and stomping up the stairs all over again. Whatever. After they had dessert I took the plate I'd made for their dad - he's stuck working all day - and we went to his apartment to leave the food and feed his new kitten.
Wouldn't you know it; the second we stepped outside our door to drive over there the kids started fighting over who got to sit where in the van. I didn't let them in until they stopped fighting. We got to their dad's place and Zach and Dolly started fighting over who got to go in first. I had the key so what difference did it make? When we got back home a short while later they all started fighting all over again so now they're all upstairs doing whatever it is they're doing and I'm sitting on the sofa, alone again.
And as I'm writing this I was hearing laughter and joking from upstairs but that quickly changed because I just heard a loud thud. Asking what it was I find out that Zach got angry at Dolly and pushed her down onto the floor. That's it!! I've had it!! I just sent three kids to bed at 7:00 when they don't have school tomorrow. And I don't care. I'm tired, aggravated, and just plain sick of all the fighting of the past two days.
This day was such a disaster for me that I don't want to do Thanksgiving again because I know that next year I'll be sitting here anticipating the fighting and I don't want to do that. I'd just as soon forget the holiday exists and treat it as any other day in our lives. I do hope all of you enjoyed your holiday whether with family, friends or a mix of the two. And while I am thankful for all I have, my children included, my Thanksgiving wasn't very happy at all.
Until next time...peace to all.
You don't have to believe me if you don't want to, that's your choice, but what I'm saying tonight is 100% true. I am completely drained today because of something that happened last night while I was sleeping. It's the fault of my ex-husband's recently-deceased uncle.
I don't know if I've ever mentioned this before but weird things are always happening to me; ghostly, spooky, creepy things that don't happen to most of my friends. I've talked to people who aren't there while I'm sleeping, I've seen my ex's great-grandmother standing in my mirror in the middle of the night, and a host of other things. Last night I had another experience.
I'd turned off my light and gone to sleep around 12:30 in the morning. Suddenly I was in the middle of a dream. I was in a house I didn't know, with people I didn't know, but I was talking on the phone to my ex's aunt, the one who's husband recently died. I was telling her how sorry I was for her loss when I felt a hand grabbing the back of my hair. I was sitting on a sofa so nobody could've been standing behind me but it was annoying me.
Suddenly I looked at the wall to my left and saw the shadow of a hand grabbing my hair over and over again. Whoever it was just kept playing with the back of my hair and it was giving me the creeps to the point that I started to come out of the dream. Now, at that point of being between sleep and consciousness is when these things usually happen to me. Just as I was coming out of the dream I got a flash picture of my cell phone in my head with a text message that said "Ralph" - which is the name of my ex's uncle.
Upon seeing the text I said, "What do you want me to tell Janet (his wife), Ralph?" As quickly as the first image appeared a second one followed with the message, "okay." Then I was suddenly wide awake but scared witless. I was shivering cold and terrified to move because I just knew someone was standing behind me in my bedroom. I lay there for a minute or so and finally got the courage to turn over and look at my clock. It was 2:05 in the morning. It didn't mean anything, that's just what time it was.
I began to warm up and sat up in bed, turned on the lamp, and the TV. I was scared, deal with it. Then I debated over whether or not to send my ex a text at that hour and figured it wouldn't hurt, he probably had his cell on mute. So I sent over a text telling him that I was asked to let him and Janet know that Ralph is ok. Guess his cell was on because he responded. We texted for a minute or two then he went back to bed, I guess.
I lay in bed watching "Field of Dreams" for lack of anything better but didn't fall back to sleep for a long while; and I woke up a few hours later, at my usual time, feeling completely drained and exhausted. Thanks, Ralph, for sapping my energy to do what you felt you needed to do. But the story doesn't end there.
Paul texted me this morning asking if I'd had any more visits but I hadn't. I told him I thought he'd had his cell on mute since he has a house phone for emergencies. He said he keeps both phones by his bed since some people still only use his cell. Then he said something that made my story even better.
He told me that his house phone rang just as he was getting my text so he thought something was wrong over here. I told him I didn't call his house phone, just sent the text. He said he knew I didn't call because he told me no ID came up on his house phone when it rang. My thought: Ralph grabbed my hair to wake me so I could send the message, then rang Paul's phone so he could get the message. That's one busy spirit.
I don't mind passing on messages or having otherworldly visits, I just wish they would be at more convenient times and in a less creepy fashion. Regardless of the circumstances, Ralph got his message through and Paul feels better. We still haven't decided whether or not to tell his aunt because we don't know if she'll be receptive. He's gonna check with his mother first.
In any case, I just wanted to share this amazing story with you and leave you to your own thoughts about it. Whatever you choose to believe is fine; I know what happened, I was here. You can share it or forget about it; I've shared it but won't forget about it. Tonight, though, I hope I can get some well-deserved sleep without any visits from dead people who don't need to be here in the middle of the night.
Until next time...peace to all.
I'm in the mood to rant tonight because I'm confused and have absolutely no idea what to do. My kids went to their dad's tonight for an overnight visit. I was alone for about a half hour when I heard a noise at my screen door. I lock the door when I'm here alone, especially at night. First I thought it was just the wind, it's really windy over here today. Then when I heard the noise again I thought it was my neighbor trying to get my attention so I got up to look. It was Ty trying to get in. He'd had an issue with Paul and left Paul's to come back here.
Ty said he didn't tell Paul he was leaving, he just took his stuff and came home. When I asked what happened he told me there was an issue with hooking up the kids' XBox, blah, blah, blah and Paul started yelling at Ty so he got upset and came home. I sent Paul a text so he'd know where Ty was and he texted back that he was pissed at Ty. Whatever, I don't care. I'm trying to find out what's going on.
It was a small issue; Ty wanted Zach to do something, Zach claimed he didn't know how - which he did - Ty pressed the issue and Paul got angry at Ty and made Ty do the aforementioned task. In the midst of me trying to talk to Ty about it, Paul called on the phone yelling at me that Ty needs to be grounded and that he can't go back there tonight. Fine. Shut up. Get off my phone and let me talk to Ty. I didn't say that, mind you, just thought it loudly to myself.
So I sent Ty upstairs to his room and told him he could stay up there tomorrow for leaving Paul's house without telling anyone. A few minutes later Paul called back saying he was pissed at Ty and that Ty can't go running back here, his home, whenever he gets upset with Paul, and that Ty needed to go back there. I agree with that but here's where my dilemma enters the scene. Our kids have not had Paul around them for any length of time, or with any consistency, for more than 10 months of their lives. They don't know how to live with him around and he doesn't know how to be a hands-on father. I'm being put in the middle of everything.
I don't mind being in the middle of things; I do it all the time for my friends. I help them work out fights, I listen to their problems, I find resources for them when needed; I'm an I-will-help-you-with-anything-at-any-time type of person. I just don't know how to do it with my kids and their dad. They're afraid of him; I'm afraid of him. He's vindictive and nasty at times, and when he's been drinking it's even worse.
I've, pretty much, got control of my dealings with him but there's that one little part of my subconscious that knows he's a nasty shit at times and that's what stops me from saying the things I need to say to him sometimes. I usually text just so I can save his words for future use, if needed. I can't tell my kids not to be afraid of him because I am.
I told Ty to go back to Paul's house and tell him he's sorry for leaving without saying anything; and I also told him to tell Paul that he doesn't appreciate having to be the only one to help his brother and sister just because he's the oldest. That was part of what Ty was upset about when he got here. Ty doesn't like Paul always telling him to do things for Zach and Dolly when they need help with something; Paul needs to be doing that, not Ty.
We have totally different households and Paul doesn't understand that. In my home the kids and I work as a team, helping one another and doing things for those who can't. All of us work together to get things done. In Paul's house he does what he wants and leaves the kids to fend for themselves then gets pissed when they fuck things up, or he gets angry with Ty because Ty didn't step in and help.
Ty didn't want to discuss that with Paul because he's afraid of him and didn't want Paul to yell at him again. I told him he has the right to tell his dad how he feels as long as it's done respectfully. In my home the kids talk to me about everything; they even yell at me at times when they're angry. They don't get away with it but, at least, I don't explode on them the way Paul does. He doesn't believe kids are entitled to opinions; I do.
I think kids have the right to express themselves, to get angry, to be sad and cry, to disagree with someone, and to have and express whatever emotions they may be feeling at the time. Paul thinks kids need to do what they're told and that they're feelings are insignificant. Grrrrrr....stupid mother fucker.
I have absolutely no idea how to deal with all of this when it's laid in my lap. I can talk to the kids and I can talk to Paul, I just can't discuss the kids' feelings with Paul because he starts getting angry with me over it. That's where my PTSD from the domestic violence kicks in and my physiological response is to shut up and let him yell at me. I feel bad even having to send my kids over there because it's like forcing them to play with the neighborhood bully. Would you do that to your kids? Of course not. I have to, though, because it's in my divorce agreement that he gets certain visitation and all that shit.
We were all much better off when he lived states away and wasn't this close to us all the time. I know things will get worse for the kids once Paul get a girlfriend - which I'm surprised hasn't happened yet because the man simply cannot be alone for any length of time. That's probably why he bugs the shit out of me all the time. Once Paul does get a girlfriend he'll go back to the way things used to be that when the kids are there the girlfriend takes care of everything while Paul watches TV or plays on the computer. He does that now and he's the only one there with them. They play video games or watch TV and Paul spends his time texting or going on his laptop. Why do they even need to be there?
It is what it is with regard to that but I still don't know how to handle the parenting issues with Paul. He'll listen to what I have to say and then completely ignore me and do the exact opposite of my advice simply because he can and he doesn't like being told what to do when it comes to his kids. He's a control freak who feels that he has the right to treat people the way he wants no matter how it makes them feel. And whenever anything goes wrong he feels the need to take it out on me. I just can't be everybody's verbal punching bag all the time.
But I'm calmer now that I've spilled this all out, as ridiculous and garbled as it may sound. Sorry about that, but if I walked around my house ranting like this my neighbors would probably call the wacky shack on me. In any case, I'm finished now and will go back to watching TV. I'll probably put on a movie about two people who fall madly in love. Since all that stuff is bullshit I'll get a good laugh from it. Enjoy your evening, night, day - whatever time it is that you may be reading this.
Until next time...peace to all.
"Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn’t there. He wasn’t there again today; I wish, I wish he’d go away..." - Antigonish by Hughes Mearns
Back on June 28, 2010 I posted under the title "Nothing To Do" and I mentioned a ghost that we had on our stairs. It was a little boy - I didn't know for sure but had a really strong feeling - who sat about halfway up the staircase and watched me while I was in the living room. I could see him out of the corner of my eye but whenever I looked directly at him he'd fade.
I never found out who he was but had the idea that it might be the little boy Dolly played with and talked to when she was two. She said his name was Gavin, or it could've been Kevin, but I believe it was Gavin. She said that Gavin slept in her room. One night as I was putting Dolly to bed in my room (she didn't sleep in her own bed at that point) she was very upset because Gavin was gone. She said he was outside standing in the yard with his mother and that she wouldn't let him come inside. I told her he'd be fine and she went to sleep.
Gavin, I'll just call him that for lack of his real name, was with us all the time but never fully showed himself. When we moved I didn't see much of him - not at Ellen's, not at Kara's, not at the shelter, and not at Kim's - but there were always others around me who I couldn't identify. We're back in Hawthorne now and Gavin is with us again. He sits in the same place on the stairs, halfway up just where the railing meets the wall, I guess so he can stay out of plain view.
I see him there all the time and always invite him to come out and chat but he never does. The other day, however, I almost got a full view of him. I was sitting on the sofa watching a movie and had my cat Bobber on my lap and my other cat Winchester on the back of the sofa by my head. We were the only family members in the house at the time because the kids were at school.
Out of the corner of my eye I cold see Gavin sitting on the stairs, off and on, during the morning. Suddenly, he moved. I saw the movement and it surprised me so I turned to look at the stairs but just as I looked a shadow went up the stairs so quickly I almost didn't believe I saw it. But I did. It was almost like Gavin wanted me to see him but changed his mind at the last second and ran.
That was sad for me because, unlike the beginning of the poem that I quoted at the start of this post, I don't want Gavin to leave. I really want to meet him to see why he's here and what I can do for him. I told him that he's more than welcome to come out and talk, and that he can stay as long as he likes as long as he isn't mean and doesn't create chaos in the house. I guess he chose not to come back downstairs. I guess when he feels ready he will come all the way down; until then I'll just let him sit on the stairs where and when he wants to.
Until next time...peace to all.
I'm really aggravated tonight. If any of you who read this are friends on Facebook you've seen my post about today's educational policies in the schools. If not, you're about to read about it. Zach and Dolly were sent home on Friday with their quarterly binders which hold their attendance records, their behavior records, the goals they've set for themselves, and their test results for each month.
Everything is fine with me except the tests because when I say 'tests' I'm not talking about teacher-prepared tests that the kids are given on each subject. I'm talking about state-mandated - or is it federally-mandated? - tests that the schools are forced to give the kids each month. Yes, my kids get spelling tests each week and Zach has had a social studies test once or twice but these other tests are pure bullshit.
I realize that the "No Child Left Behind" policy has a lot to do with it but I've never liked that policy. Children are taking these tests that the schools are forced to give them and passing them, although I don't know how. Dolly has STAR reading and early literacy tests, ELA something-or-other and some other test; and Zach has STAR reading, Rocket math ratings, and SMA something-or-other tests, and I can't interpret the results of any of them because the codes don't make any sense to me at all.
Quite honestly I don't understand how these tests rate or place the children in their grades because I've seen the work of some kids hanging on the hallway bulletin boards and a good many of the kids can't spell basic words. Just to give you an example, one child, D, in Zach's 4th-grade class had a Halloween story on the board which read, "It was halween and it was a cold halween so me and my mama and my brother & sisters and my dady just got threw trica treating so we went to my Gramals and I was just geting up the hill I sall red eyes..." That is directly from the D's paper.
The child is in 4th grade and not only does D not use punctuation or proper grammar, D also can't spell the most basic of words like 'daddy', and 'saw.' At D's age 'Grandma', 'getting' and 'Halloween' ought to be spelled correctly, too. As a matter of fact, that entire little paragraph ought to be almost perfect for a nine-year-old child. It makes me sad that it's not. I feel for the child and I feel for the teachers because apparently grammar, spelling, and punctuation are not part of the government's curriculum or policies.
To make matters worse, D's parents probably aren't very involved in D's schooling and D will, most likely, end up graduating from high school with no real grasp on the English language or how to write or spell correctly - if D even makes it that far. I definitely know D, or any child for that matter, won't be learning how to write in script because the schools don't offer lessons in that much-needed skill anymore.
Script has become a thing of the past - and so has basic printing, apparently - because children are being taught how to type rather than write, which is really sad because Dolly had a 'team buddy' working with her on a project who prints like a two year old. I was shocked, when I saw the project, to find out that the 'buddy' was a third grader who was assigned to help Dolly. Dolly prints better than the buddy. I guess the school doesn't care because kids are expected to learn how to use a keyboard rather than how to write in print or cursive - I'm guessing because the government mandates it.
Not learning how to write makes sense since we all know that documents theses days are signed electronically. Right? Wrong! My children won't know how to sign a check, or a lease, or mortgage documents if they ever decide to buy houses of their own, or even birthday cards to their spouses - that's if the schools get their way. Too bad they won't.
See, not only do I teach my kids to write - print and script, but I also teach them to read, spell, do math, and all that other fun stuff that the schools won't let them do. I don't care if my daughter is up to G-level reading in her 1st-grade class. I don't even know what the fuck that means. I just want to know if she's reading on par for her age group or if she needs a little extra help. I know she doesn't need help because she can spell and read 'saw' and 'Grandma' and she's only six.
Something needs to be done about all this bullshit testing the government is forcing on the schools and the children, and the teachers need to be able to return to the classic format of teaching and testing without government interference. If the government wants to blame someone for the kids not doing well on the state exams - which I also despise - maybe the officials need to start going door to door and speaking to the parents to find out who actually gives a shit about their kids' education and who doesn't. Maybe that would take some of the pressure off the schools and teachers and the government could actually put the blame where it belongs - on the parents and on the government itself.
Kids need to be taught and tested in schools with finals at the end of the year, the way it was when I went to school, and let the year's worth of work and final exams determine whether or not a child moves up to the next grade. Obviously all the state/federal bullshit is doing is churning out illiterate children who are being moved up to the next grade because they reached a certain goal on the mandated-yet-useless monthly tests. I refuse to allow that to happen to my kids. I'll keep doing what I'm doing at home and make sure my kids turn out better than the government wants them to be.
Until next time...peace to all.
Halloween. I spent the day, starting at 8:30 this morning, working at Zach and Dolly's school. I volunteered to help with the Halloween party they were having for the kids; spent my time setting up decorations, game stations, candy prizes and treats, etc. It was a long day but lots of fun. Watching the kids come into the gym to see all the fun things they could do was amazing, especially when the Kindergartners arrived. This was their first official school party so they were a little awed and confused about what to do. Their joy, once they figured out what to do, was wonderful.
I'd ridden to the school with Paul because he was volunteering in Zach's class for the day so we let Zach and Dolly avoid the afternoon bus and get a ride with us when Paul brought me back to my home. Ty arrived shortly thereafter and soon enough it was time to get ready for trick-or-treating. We wanted to start around 5:30 but there were no other kids out on the streets yet so we waited at Paul's place until around 6:30. Then we were off.
We drove to an area where we knew people were giving out candy and we began walking up and down blocks, through cul-de-sacs, up and down streets - first one side then the other. The kids were having fun and we came upon loads of other kids and their parents in that neighborhood, but we couldn't help but notice how different Halloween was from when we were kids.
Most people today don't go out until after dark. When I was a kid and Halloween was on a school night we got in from school around 3:00, got into our costumes, and were out the door - and people were home to give us our treats at that hour. These days most people don't get home until 5:30 or later so they're not ready to start answering the doorbell until 7:00 or later.
When I was a kid most houses in the neighborhood were giving out candy. We literally ran from one house to the next, almost non-stop, until we reached the end of the block. Nowadays kids go to about three houses in a row and the next five are dark because nobody is home or the family just isn't giving anything. The neighborhood we went to is the same one I always took them to when we lived here in MO a few years ago. Even three years ago most of the homes on those blocks were lit up and the residents were waiting for kids to arrive. Tonight was a lot different. There were a lot of homes lit, but just as many were dark; so many more dark than in the past.
What struck me as really funny was that my kids actually started asking to stop trick-or-treating after a little more than an hour. Remember when you were a kid? I do. My mom would be telling my sister and me it was time to go home and we'd be begging to go to just a few more houses. She almost had to drag us home. My kids did the same thing last year when we were in the shelter. A friend of mine and her kids went with us to another friends neighborhood to go trick-or-treating and three of the six kids wanted to stop after an hour. My friend and I made them go to more houses.
I've never seen kids actually ask to stop going trick-or-treating. It was as incredible to me this year as it was last year. It was okay, though, because we covered a lot of ground tonight and I've actually got one big bowl and two huge baskets full of what the kids collected. Not to mention that I still have the candy that I bought to distribute in case someone came to our home after we arrived home. I didn't have any trick-or-treaters, though so now I've just got a buttload of candy in my home.
Doesn't matter, though, my kids had fun and I got some exercise while watching them have a good time. That's what it's about, after all. Seeing my kids happy and enjoying the holiday is one of the great pleasures in my life. I don't like holidays and if I didn't have kids I wouldn't celebrate any of them. Since I do, though, I do what I can to make the most of the holidays for my kids. But Halloween is over and the next big holiday, Christmas, is on its way. {{sigh}} Time to mentally prepare myself and do what I can to give my kids all the joy of the season that they deserve. :)
Until next time...peace to all.
I'm having a really hard time trying to explain to my kids that they can't be disrespectful and that they have to follow rules these days. They're constantly seeing adults being rude as well as seeing adults allowing kids to be rude. We went to a little trunk-or-treat event today over by the management office where we live. For those who may not know, trunk-or-treat is a safe way for kids to go trick-or-treating without going from house to house. The agency/church/school has their employees line their cars up around a field or parking lot with the trunks open and the kids file past collecting candy from the owner of the vehicle. It's usually quick and the kids have fun.
The office did that for the kids in the area today and there were rules to follow; some stated, some just a natural given because it's basic common courtesy. One of the rules was that all children had to be accompanied by an adult yet there were numerous kids there with their friends but no parent or adult supervisor anywhere in sight. There was also a line to follow.
My kids and I, along with our neighbor and her two boys all got on the line. There were people ahead of us and people behind us yet somehow we got separated along the way with my neighbor and her boys getting shuffled further back in line. Not only that but Ty and Dolly ended up seven people ahead of Zach and me. How did that happen, you may ask. I'll tell you how. It's because adults were allowing children to enter the line wherever and whenever they felt like it.
All seven of my group were standing together as the line began moving. The lady who had been in front of me with her two girls saw a couple of her neighbor's kids come running across the lawn to get in line and rather than telling them to go to the end of the line she just automatically assumed I would be okay with her letting these four extra girls get in front of my kids and me. Then, as she waited for a couple more kids to come running to her group she allowed Ty and Dolly to move ahead in the line while she made the rest of us wait.
Behind me the same thing was apparently happening. My neighbor had turned her head to say hi to someone she knew and because she wasn't looking another group of kids, along with their adult, moved right into the middle of the line, even though there were about fifty people behind them. How do I tell my kids not to shove into a line when adults are allowing kids to do it right in front of them? If you say something to the adult you get attitude in return, and kids without an adult with them seem to think they have the right to do what they please. Since the day was supposed to be about the kids I just kept my mouth shut.
I know this is a small issue but it irks me. I'm trying to raise my kids to be respectful to others under any circumstances but it's hard when they see so much disrespect around them all the time. The adults who don't care teach it to their kids; the same way that my other neighbor taught her kid to be a racist bully. It's disgusting sometimes, it really is.
I can be driving my car through the complex and slow down or stop for kids in the way who just stare at me with attitude while they walk to the side of the road. It's almost like they think they own the road and I'm inconveniencing them. Walking into a store where a kid or teen has just entered or exited is just as bad. You'd think they'd hold the door when they see someone coming but they don't; they just let it close as if the next person isn't even there.
My kids hold the door open for the person behind them even if my kids have the option of entering or exiting first. They don't, though; they get to the door, check to see if someone else is coming and hold the door to let others go through first, then my kids will go. It's common courtesy. And my kids always thank the person who holds a door for them. I can't tell you how many times I've held a door for someone who just ignored me. Most times I'll just let the rudeness pass but if I'm in a mood I'll yell, "You're welcome" after the person has moved past me without so much as a nod of the head. My kids have witnessed and know why I do it.
I just can't stand the fact that so few people these days actually care about using manners and respectful behavior, much less teaching them to their kids. Yet these same people get pissed off when someone treats a member of their family rudely, and will also give serious attitude when their own rude behavior is pointed out to them. This isn't new, I've been witnessing it for over 20 years, but it's really getting on my nerves now because I have kids who are always asking me why people are rude and allowed to get away with it.
My standard answer is, "Some people just don't care about being respectful or following rules. Our family does, though." My kids are getting tired of hearing it and I'm getting tired of saying it. It's just too bad rudeness isn't a crime that can be branded on a person so we'd all know to steer clear. I tell my kids to just stay positive and thank a rude person for his or her input, wish the person a good day, and walk away smiling. Maybe we can be contagious and our attitudes will catch on; maybe not. At least we're doing what we can to be good people. It's the best my little family can do.
Until next time...peace to all.
I was talking to my friend R on the phone the other night and I have no idea how the subject came up but she mentioned candy corn. I felt compelled to tell her that I have a method for eating candy corn, as well as pretzel twists and peanut M&Ms. That got her curiosity piqued and she asked me for the methods. Since she asked, I'll share them with you, too. Just because...
Candy corn are simple with my method and R admitted that she eats them the same way; I'm guessing a lot of people do. I bite off the white tip first, the I eat the orange layer, and finally the yellow. The layers don't taste different from one another, it's just fun and makes them last longer. How? Because you have to eat them one at a time using my method.
Pretzels twists are a little more complicated. Picture a pretzel twist in your mind so you'll understand what I'm describing. First I eat the little nubs on the outer edges of the round parts; I bite one off, then the other. Next I eat the little bridge part, the part that, when you bite it off, leaves you with a miniature pair of glasses. Finally I eat the round parts, one at a time, never together. I don't know why; I just eat them that way.
Peanut M&Ms are the most complicated of all, and I absolutely do it with each and every one. I put the piece in my mouth and push it under my back teeth on one side. I very gently bite the chocolate shell in half so one side of it breaks away from the peanut. Then I work the other side of the chocolate off the peanut. I kid you not. Once I get all the chocolate shell off I put the shell on one side of my mouth and the peanut on the other and finish eating it. I'm not kidding, I seriously eat peanut M&Ms that way; one at a time and systematically. I told you, I don't know why.
I also have a food consistency problem but I think I've mentioned it before. Sorry for the repeat if I have. I don't eat bananas because a kid in school many, many years ago was eating one and squished it through his teeth. And I don't eat Jell-O because it's like eating a big ball of snot. Food isn't supposed to move on its own. Blech!! Equally as bad are foods that pop when you bite them, like grapes or cherry tomatoes. That's just seriously gross and I stay far, far away from foods like that.
I'm just a little weird I guess, but there's nothing wrong with that because I'm betting you do some weird things too. We all do. That's why I explain to my kids that someone calling them weird is a compliment, although the person saying it probably doesn't mean it that way. Our weirdness is what makes us all individuals and we need to take pride in our own little idiosyncrasies, regardless of how weird other people think they are. Those are just some of mine; now think about yours and embrace them.
Until next time...peace to all.
I try to maintain a calm existence, I really do. It doesn't always work but I work at it the best I can, and it does take work, especially with three kids who are constantly fighting with one another. That I can handle; I'm used to it and can diffuse whatever comes along. I can even give diffuse situations between adults when the need arises, but there is just some drama that I refuse to let into my life.
My ex moved into his own place yesterday but he, like a few other people I know, have great difficulty being alone. Remember "Jerry Maguire?" "He can't be alone." That's my ex and a few assorted friends. I'm constantly listening to them whine and complain that they have nobody and that they're lonely and that they need someone to hold them. Seriously? Go away with that crap.
Maybe, just maybe, if they loved themselves and knew who they really are, they'd be able to hold onto relationships a little better. Now, I'm no relationship expert - most of mine have been terrible, even relationships with my family - but I do know that I'm not ready to invite someone into my life right now because I have too many other things to work on first. For me to bring someone in now would just make us both miserable and that wouldn't be fair to either of us.
So my ex and my friends are single and lonely and I don't want to listen to all the bullshit. What do they instead? They pull all kinds of self-pity crap and fake loads of drama to get attention. One friend was constantly posting on Facebook about how she was going to kill herself because she was all alone and had no friends and nobody loved her, blah, blah, blah. She has four kids and loads of friends. Regardless she'd make these posts and wait for her friends to respond telling her how much they loved her, and on and on.
What did I say in my response to her? I told her flat out to cut the bullshit. The kids and I were in the shelter at the time, I had no money, and no other options but I still didn't sit around feeling sorry for myself. I told my friend the same thing in almost those same words. I told her to shut up about not having a man in her life and to realize that things could be a lot worse for her. She deleted her post almost immediately after my response went up. She was fine for a while but is starting her "I have no man again" bullshit. Ugh.
My ex is the same way. Today he had the kids over there for a while and sent them home around 5:00 so he could continue unpacking and they could eat dinner and get ready for school tomorrow. Around 5:30 I got a text from him telling me to call the police before he killed someone. I have no idea who the someone was or what was going on. I texted him twice and called once but got no answer. He finally called me back a few minutes later telling me "It's all good. It's all good. A little Crazy Glue and some stitches. I've gotta go, I've gotta go." Whatever the fuck that means.
Basically I chalked it up to his basic attention-getting drama. I found out from a mutual friend that he was texting her up until five minutes before he texted me with his drama so I have no other option but to believe it was all crap. I haven't heard from him since so I'm guessing all is well on his end. I just can't take him, or anyone else, trying to lay their shit on me for no reason. Honestly, what did he expect me to do at that moment? Run over there to his rescue? I've got our kids here, what was I supposed to do with them? He can be such a dumbass sometimes, and so can everyone else who tries this shit on me.
I don't have time for soap operas and drama and self pity in my life so I'm certainly not going to accept it from anyone else. I'm trying to figure out a way to make sure everyone knows that I'm there for them as long as their issue is genuine; it it's not, call someone who actually cares. I don't mean to sound harsh but my kids give me enough to handle, I don't need it from adults, too. I'm just gonna keep breathing in and out and let it be and live my life. It is what it is and I'm going to accept that.
Until next time...peace to all.
Paul got his own place yesterday. He left work early to get to the rental office before they closed for the weekend; he got his address and got the key. The lady told him, however, that the carpet guys hadn't been there yet and wouldn't be there until 5:00 that evening and that it would take about three hours for them to get the carpet in. Ugh... That meant he'd be spending one more night here. No worries.
He got up this morning and took the kids out to breakfast. I was invited to go along but decided against it. Paul doesn't need to spend more money than necessary and I was looking forward to the quiet time I'd get before we started moving him to his place. I knew the kids would be all over the place and that we'd be busy all day. I needed to relax beforehand. They returned from breakfast about an hour-and-a-half later and we got to work.
Between his truck and my van we had plenty of room and we made four trips each getting his belongings moved. We'd load up at my place then both of us would drive to his place and unload everything. The only thing we didn't do was rent a hand truck, which would have come in handy since he's got three small flights of stairs to walk to get up to his place. Each staircase was only seven steps, but the top of each one turned on a landing to the next. Twenty one steps up and down each time we loaded something out of the van or the truck.
We finally got everything into his place at around 3:00. We all relaxed a short while and the kids and I came back to our place. We were starved and tired. I couldn't sit just yet, though, because I had to get Dolly's room swept and get her bed moved into her room. Paul had been using it but Dolly was sleeping in my room before that because she didn't have a bed. While Paul was living here I bought a twin bed from my next-door neighbor for $15 and put it in the basement in anticipation of Paul getting his place quickly.
Dolly and I cleaned her room and got her bed in there. She was go excited that she had to sit on her own bed and watch TV by herself for a while. I came downstairs to make dinner - corn dogs and french fries - and to begin relaxing; shoes off, beer in hand. After we ate we all sat down to watch TV together. Nickelodeon had all new shows on tonight that the kids wanted to watch so I got the privilege of watching them, too. I don't mind, some of them are okay. But sitting was a mistake; the next time I got up I could barely move.
My muscles ache from shoulders to ankles and I'm sure they'll hurt even more in the morning. I hope not too badly because I need to do laundry which requires me walking up and down my basement stairs all day. I'm just looking forward to sleeping in my own bed alone tonight. I'll have room to relax and move without getting kicked in the leg or slapped across the nose by Dolly. I just hope she spends the entire night in her own bed. She says she will but I'm not so sure. She's been sleeping in my bed, pretty much, since she was born.
I just need to get my own space. I've finally got my home back now that Paul is gone; I'd like to have my own room, all to myself, with a bed that belongs only to me. I want it for tonight so that I can stretch out and hopefully not feel a sore as I think I will in the morning; I want it every other night so I can finally feel like a grown-up in my own bedroom. Fingers crossed Dolly likes having her own room and bed; maybe she and I can grow up together. :)
Until next time...peace to all.
At the beginning of August, I believe it was around the 6th, I went to the post office to rent a post office box so my ex-husband, Paul, could begin forwarding his mail before he moved here from Indiana. I couldn't rent it in his name because he'd have to do that on his own, so I rented it in my name and added his name to the box. It was $25 for three months, no refunds for early closure. Because I was only renting the box for three months I was required to sign up for automatic renewal payments from my bank card. I didn't like it but had no other choice.
The day I rented it I told the woman who was filling out the paperwork that I would be closing the post office box before the three months were up so I didn't want them taking another payment from me. She said that wasn't a problem, all I'd have to do was go to the post office and return the keys. Simple enough, right? Wrong!
In the middle of last week I asked Paul if there was any way the lady at the rental office where he was getting his apartment could give him his address so he could forward his mail and I could close the box. He said he's supposed to get the address this weekend when he moves into the place. I told him he had to get that address because the post office will be automatically renewing the box in about three weeks and I don't want that happening. He said we'll be closing the box this weekend, Monday at the latest. He also said he'd received the renewal bill in the box last week and it isn't due until the 31st. Okay, works for me.
I got up this morning and checked my account online as I do every couple of days. The USPS had already put the $25 on hold from my account. WHAT!!?? That was unacceptable. I called the post office immediately and explained why I was calling. The renewal fee isn't due for another two weeks yet they've already put the fee on hold from my account. The woman who answered the phone told me I needed to speak to the box clerk who wasn't in until 9:30; it was only 8:40 and I was aggravated.
Fortunately the box clerk is the same woman who rented the box to me so I was hoping she'd remember me. When I called at 9:45, however, and explained the problem, she gave me an 800 number to the USPS and told me I needed to speak with someone there. {{SIGH}} So I called the number and spoke with a woman. I explained that I never intended to renew the post office box and that the renewal payment isn't due for two weeks so I wanted them to release the hold on my funds. I told her they had no right to take my funds when the payment isn't due yet.
She explained that they'd sent me an email telling me I had to cancel the auto-payment before the 15th or the box would automatically be renewed and there are no refunds. I told her the only email I received from the USPS was on October 3rd and that was to tell me that my bank card was expiring and they needed me to update my card information. I told her my card isn't due to expire until late next year and that the email I received didn't include anything else about a renewal of my post office box on or about the 15th of the month. She tried to argue with me about what email I'd received but it didn't work with me so she got her supervisor on the phone to try to help me.
Same conversation, different person. She repeated the same thing to me about the renewal on the 15th and that I "should have been informed of that when I rented the box." Guess what! I wasn't informed of anything. I was told to come to the post office before the end of the third month to close the box; nothing was ever mentioned about them renewing it over two weeks before the third month was done. She read me the rules about cancelling the auto-payment before the 15th but that she didn't have any other information; that I'd have to go to the post office and handle it with them. Holy shit, was I annoyed.
A friend of mine, R, had shown up at my door as I was dealing with these government morons so she decided to go with me to the post office. Two people waiting in line and only one clerk at the desk; the clerk I needed to speak with about my issue. We finally got called and I explained everything that had been told to me over the phone. I told her I wanted the box closed and I wanted the $25 payment released back into my account. She said, I'm guessing without thinking, that I was the second person to complain to her about the early renewal of a post office box. She said that the other person complained about the payment being taken two weeks early but that she'd actually known the USPS to auto-renew boxes up to 30 days early.
Surprise, surprise!! I looked her dead in the eyes and told her she never bothered to mention that to me. Imagine that. The shocked look on her face told me that she really wasn't supposed to reveal to me the early-renewal dilemma; that's she'd just slipped up big time. I told her, quite clearly mind you, that if something wasn't done to close the box and refund my money I was going to go as high up the government ladder as I had to in order to correct the situation. I don't know if she was nervous or angry but she did look like she wanted to vomit.
She went into the back and seemed to disappear. About 10 minutes later, as a long line was forming behind me, R moved a bit down the counter and was relaying what she saw. The clerk was speaking to someone at a computer, a third person joined them, they were pointing at the computer and discussing my issue. The clerk finally returned to me with a refund request form in her hands but left again to check something on the computer. When she returned she allowed me to close the box, to fill out a refund request form, and she handed me $25 in cash. Now how easy was that to do? That's all I wanted and look at all the aggravation I had to go through to get it.
What I found really interesting is that these government employees have no clue how to reverse a payment back into someone's account. Renewing a post office box over two weeks before it expires thus prohibiting someone from closing the box if need be is thievery. The government stealing from people...is that a new concept? HAHAHAHAHAHA!! It just makes me wonder how many people just give in and deal with the USPS taking their money without complaining about it. I'm not one of them. You steal from me, I'm gonna get angry; you lie to me and we'll have more issues than you bargained for.
Tomorrow I'm going to contact the Postmaster General's office to apprise them of my issue and to find out if this is common practice amongst post offices across the country. Why would I do that when my issue has been resolved? Because I feel like making a stink over it simply based on principle. Like I said, you mess with me, I'm going to mess back - because I can. I'll let you know what I find out. I'm excited already; causing a stir gives me a joyous tingle in my bones. :)
Until next time...peace to all.
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