Sometimes it feels like 100 years ago, and sometimes it feels like just yesterday that I married my soul mate and love of my life.
Our 25+ years together has been bumpy, rocky and sometimes seemingly impassable, but here we are one year shy of our silver anniversary. I can only attribute that to the both of us growing into stronger and more forgiving people, and having faith.
Twenty-five years ago my mother told me we would never last. She blamed John for almost killing me after I was very near death from a tubal pregnancy. She sat my then fiance' down and told him I was damaged goods and he deserved better because I had been sexually abused- right in front of me like I wasn't even there, meanwhile John sat calmly and let her finish, then told her plainly that I had told him EVERYTHING about my childhood. Her sabotage didn't work, thank God, because I had been completely honest with him in our first week of dating.
She made me change my wedding date 4 different times because she had plans, unwilling to change her plans for my wedding. She took control of my wedding planning and told John he could only invite 15 people out of 250 invites because she was going to pay for the reception as a gift. She eventually threw me a wedding shower but then kept all the gifts that I had stored at their house while I was in the Navy, all because John argued that 15 people were not enough from his side. She cancelled the wedding reception, kept my shower gifts AND told me she had prayed and God told her she (and the rest of my family) wasn't allowed to go to the wedding... then lied to my brothers that because I was mad I had uninvited all of them.
My mother's pastor grudgingly held our wedding ceremony in a dirty church with small pieces of lint and paper scraps in the aisle, after my mother - I am sure- told him how I had been disrespectful to her. He didn't look at me a single time during the wedding ceremony, which was certainly rushed and maybe lasted 10-15 minutes. He glanced at John a few times but only looked over my head.
None of my immediate family came to our wedding, but my mother's sister and her family came, including my aunt's in-laws who let us call them "granny" and "gramps" as kids. My art teacher from high school came, I was and still am so very touched she would do that for me. We had navy friends there, and John had quite a few family members that flew and drove from Iowa and Virginia. I had my great grandmother and some high school friends who showed up for me as well.
We had about maybe 40 people show up to our wedding, but some of the guests did not go to the reception. All in all, we spent 1000.00 for our wedding, my off the rack wedding dress costing just under half of that. The rest was spent on flowers, a 2 tier wedding cake and flowers we ordered from a grocery store, and John and his brother's tuxedo rentals. Luckily a family friend and mom of one of my high school classmates had heard about how my mother had treated us and she graciously approached John and I about having our reception at her house near her pool, and she and another family friend bought and cooked the food for us for a measly 100.00. What a blessing that was!
When it came time for the wedding to begin, I almost had a nervous breakdown because John decided that arriving 5 minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start was completely appropriate! I figured after all the craziness he has experienced from my family during our 11 month engagement, he had probably gotten cold feet.
I still missed having my family there, but was very thankful for the family that did show up; my aunt and her family, and my art teacher- who secretly I had always wished had been my cool and quirky mom. I was very blessed to have had a father-in-law who had been sweet enough to ask me if he could walk me down the aisle, even though we hadn't met yet.
The first 25 years of our relationship- just like our wedding day- has been bitter sweet, but mostly sweet. I willingly give my husband most of the credit,
though. He knows how genuinely messed up I am and loves me despite all
of it. He knows me like no other, he knows all of my dark
secrets. Every. Single. One. And I am almost positive that I know all of
his. We are both damaged from our childhoods. Sometimes we can be rough
around the edges but we manage to love each other through it, because we see value in all that we have conquered in the past.
What
makes our relationship continue to grow despite rough patches? I think it's because our valleys have been so low at times
that it makes the high points that much higher. It's the bitter in the bittersweet that makes it all that much richer and sweeter.
My younger brother told me a few years ago that considering I was the black sheep of the family, he had always thought that I would be the one married 3 times with all sorts of kids. We both had a good laugh out of that since he and my older brother have both been married 3 times each, and here I am chugging along in my imperfect but lengthy marriage.
From meager and troubled beginnings we came... A 19 year old bride and a
21 year old groom.We were talking last night in bed, just an hour into
our official 24th anniversary. Looking back, we would have still kept
our wedding small if it meant we would do it our way, on our terms.
OR
used that 1000.00 to get married in Vegas. *wink*
To my husband, The Male Income Support Unit:
I love you, John. Thank you for loving me when I was unlovable, forgiving me when I was unforgivable, and for understanding my crazy from it's deepest roots. Thank you for giving me 3 adorable kids and 25 years.
The first 25 years have been a doozy... I can't wait to see where we go
from here! All I can say is it better not involve me getting pregnant
again.
Love,
Me
Showing posts with label honesty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label honesty. Show all posts
Monday, June 03, 2013
Thursday, February 07, 2013
12
My baby is going to be 12 in 21 days. TWELVE.
My oldest child... the beginning of something truly beautiful, a new phase of my life that I thought I would never be lucky enough to experience.
It's been gritty and tortuous being a parent, and at other times soulful and stomach-hugging hilarious.
Today, I realized that my oldest child is so much like me, so much more than I had ever realized. I mean, I had always thought she looked a little more like me and we share a eerily similar sense of humor. We inflect on words the same, and our laughs can be the same growly, bark of a laugh or nearly the same hysterical howl. We share almost the exact same nose, and we both feel the same dread over the size.
But beyond all of that, while we talked about friendships, I could see the person she is becoming. At some point we were both exasperated and my eyes were opened, as I forced myself to listen more instead pontificating aloud, sharing my "refined" wisdom as an adult.
As I admitted to her that I didn't know everything I saw something click in my daughter, as if those were the words she had been longing me to say since her existence.
I stopped for a moment and told her that all I ever want for her in life is to do good, and not make the same mistakes I did. My words are meant as a cautionary tale, never judgement. I want to give my kids all the things my mother didn't like sound advice and a bent ear... understanding.
We had an honest talk about a friendship she has that has turned sour, and this person is no longer viewed through rose colored glasses and Anna is finally seeing her for who she really is: a mean spirited brat who enjoys humiliating and bullying others. Now that Anna has rekindled a friendship from grade school- who this mean little bully does not like- now the bully has caught my daughter in her icy glare. Anna has now been bullied.
Don't weep for my child, make no mistake... my daughter is strong in will and most of the time character. I am proud of her for standing up to this miserable little person, and for standing her ground.
She is a bit hard headed like her dad's side of the family, and she can be a little tender under her hard shell... both of which she gets from me I think. It hurts me to see her frustration (and hurt, though she refuses to admit it), but I laid out the options/choices ahead of her in this situation.
1. The obvious backstabbing and dirtying of the name of said person, justified by tales of all the ways this person has hurt her... which NEVER ends well and ALWAYS backfires.
2. Stay neutral and continue to defend herself while faking her way through this botched "friendship".
3. MOVE ON. Leave it all behind and enjoy those people who really truly are her friends.
She did say midway through our talk that she had just had the realization, "Why am I bothering to be friends with her?"
So if nothing hopefully she now understands that confiding in her mom can be cathartic and therapeutic, and that I am an ally and not the enemy.
And maybe, just maybe she realizes that I do pretty much know what I am talking about. Most of the time.
Usually.
I learned today that it's not such a bad thing that we are so much alike.
I hope that one day she realizes it too.
Peace,
Mary
My oldest child... the beginning of something truly beautiful, a new phase of my life that I thought I would never be lucky enough to experience.
It's been gritty and tortuous being a parent, and at other times soulful and stomach-hugging hilarious.
Today, I realized that my oldest child is so much like me, so much more than I had ever realized. I mean, I had always thought she looked a little more like me and we share a eerily similar sense of humor. We inflect on words the same, and our laughs can be the same growly, bark of a laugh or nearly the same hysterical howl. We share almost the exact same nose, and we both feel the same dread over the size.
But beyond all of that, while we talked about friendships, I could see the person she is becoming. At some point we were both exasperated and my eyes were opened, as I forced myself to listen more instead pontificating aloud, sharing my "refined" wisdom as an adult.
As I admitted to her that I didn't know everything I saw something click in my daughter, as if those were the words she had been longing me to say since her existence.
I stopped for a moment and told her that all I ever want for her in life is to do good, and not make the same mistakes I did. My words are meant as a cautionary tale, never judgement. I want to give my kids all the things my mother didn't like sound advice and a bent ear... understanding.
We had an honest talk about a friendship she has that has turned sour, and this person is no longer viewed through rose colored glasses and Anna is finally seeing her for who she really is: a mean spirited brat who enjoys humiliating and bullying others. Now that Anna has rekindled a friendship from grade school- who this mean little bully does not like- now the bully has caught my daughter in her icy glare. Anna has now been bullied.
Don't weep for my child, make no mistake... my daughter is strong in will and most of the time character. I am proud of her for standing up to this miserable little person, and for standing her ground.
She is a bit hard headed like her dad's side of the family, and she can be a little tender under her hard shell... both of which she gets from me I think. It hurts me to see her frustration (and hurt, though she refuses to admit it), but I laid out the options/choices ahead of her in this situation.
1. The obvious backstabbing and dirtying of the name of said person, justified by tales of all the ways this person has hurt her... which NEVER ends well and ALWAYS backfires.
2. Stay neutral and continue to defend herself while faking her way through this botched "friendship".
3. MOVE ON. Leave it all behind and enjoy those people who really truly are her friends.
She did say midway through our talk that she had just had the realization, "Why am I bothering to be friends with her?"
So if nothing hopefully she now understands that confiding in her mom can be cathartic and therapeutic, and that I am an ally and not the enemy.
And maybe, just maybe she realizes that I do pretty much know what I am talking about. Most of the time.
Usually.
I learned today that it's not such a bad thing that we are so much alike.
I hope that one day she realizes it too.
Peace,
Mary
Thursday, January 03, 2013
Well, it looks like it's that time of year again!
It has been brought to my attention that I am seriously over due for a blog update, by one of the people I care about most in this world- my best friend Monique. She is right, so here I am at 7 am, at task.
This last 12 months has been something else, a lot of good and a lot of "Seriously???"
In the last year I lost a relationship (said good bye to an odd and nearly one sided friendship), became best friends with one of the most amazing people on the planet, saw my fledgling business alternately struggle and soar- oddly within weeks of each other, ignited a spark in troubled family relationships and watched as the spark went out ... yet again. I was featured in a news paper article, on the front page of my local newspaper mid December 2012 for being a local artisan who sells globally, like on Etsy. And of course I was diagnosed with a syndrome that will forever affect the quality of my life last April, fibromyalgia.
As always, like for most people, the coming of the new year brings a mixture of joy and dread. The possibility, the dream of starting anew tainted with an obscene amount of self flagellation, self-absorbed pondering, regret and eventually desperate resolutions.
Over the last week and a half I have emotionally flogged myself for not being what others want me to be, for failing to meet their expectations, for not fitting the mold they envision for me. I have wondered about my short comings, what I could have possibly done to have been tossed aside yet again, what I could do to make them want me a part of their lives again.
I told my husband last night that I do not want to be like the person previously mentioned who once had been my friend. I ended that relationship because it was no longer a giving/receiving relationship, I feel it turned into me mostly giving.
Since ending it- which ended in this person refusing to see that it was over, and with her contacting me on every mode of communication on the internet ( Twitter, Youtube, mine, my husband and daughter, and my other friends Facebook accounts, Etsy, all of my email accounts, my husbands email, texts to my phone and my husband's cell), this person has pretty much cyber stalked me. I clearly told her over each mode of communication that I did not want a relationship with her anymore, and yet she persisted, to the point of me telling her I would call the police if she did not stop harassing me.
To date, over the last 11 months I still have received 3 or more messages/emails above and beyond about 50 communications already mentioned via messages, emails and texts. Which boggles my mind. Why would a person continue to pursue a relationship where she was so clearly not wanted anymore?
Last night I realized I was that person. I have people in my life who would rather be done with me. I know by their actions, their behavior towards me, their lack of wanting to communicate with me... and some of these people are my family.
Over the last week and a half I have beat myself up for not being who they want me to be. Wondered what I could change to make them want me back in their lives. I felt as though they were trying to fit me into a vessel of their choosing, in a shape they desired, and I desperately tried to squeeze myself into that vessel.
Last night this made perfect sense to me: I am a vessel in my own right. Yes I am human, and my vessel is flaked and cracked, scratched and stained... but what some people would find distressed and damaged other people have found "antiqued" and charming, maybe even shabby chic *smile*.
Why would I continue to waste my time and energy on being someone and something I am not? Why try to squeeze myself into their mold of who they think I should be, then be disappointed along with them that I don't fit in that shiny new vessel they want for me?
Fighting back tears momentarily while talking with my husband in the wee hours, in the comfort of darkness and our bed, all of this dawned on me.
For this new year I choose to stop wasting time on trying to be the person other people want me to be. I have decided to stop of wasting energy metaphorically trying to fit my plus sized body into skinny jeans to please other people. Instead of trying to be a better, different person I am going to take that energy and focus on being a better me.
I will repair this vessel. I will fill in the cracks, sand it, maybe put on a new lacquer that enhances the beauty of who I am, instead of chiseling away at myself or painting over everything and losing who I am. I can be a better me: a better wife, friend and mother.
So my reader, this is my wish for you as well for this new year. My wish for you and I is that instead of beating ourselves up with resolutions, hating bad habits and shortcomings we feel about ourselves or imagine what other people see in us...
My wish for us is a year of self acceptance and love, along with a little sanding and buffing.
Be flawed. Embrace your patina, chips and cracks because after all they are what make you uniquely you.
Peace, love and laquer to you,
Mary
This last 12 months has been something else, a lot of good and a lot of "Seriously???"
In the last year I lost a relationship (said good bye to an odd and nearly one sided friendship), became best friends with one of the most amazing people on the planet, saw my fledgling business alternately struggle and soar- oddly within weeks of each other, ignited a spark in troubled family relationships and watched as the spark went out ... yet again. I was featured in a news paper article, on the front page of my local newspaper mid December 2012 for being a local artisan who sells globally, like on Etsy. And of course I was diagnosed with a syndrome that will forever affect the quality of my life last April, fibromyalgia.
As always, like for most people, the coming of the new year brings a mixture of joy and dread. The possibility, the dream of starting anew tainted with an obscene amount of self flagellation, self-absorbed pondering, regret and eventually desperate resolutions.
Over the last week and a half I have emotionally flogged myself for not being what others want me to be, for failing to meet their expectations, for not fitting the mold they envision for me. I have wondered about my short comings, what I could have possibly done to have been tossed aside yet again, what I could do to make them want me a part of their lives again.
I told my husband last night that I do not want to be like the person previously mentioned who once had been my friend. I ended that relationship because it was no longer a giving/receiving relationship, I feel it turned into me mostly giving.
Since ending it- which ended in this person refusing to see that it was over, and with her contacting me on every mode of communication on the internet ( Twitter, Youtube, mine, my husband and daughter, and my other friends Facebook accounts, Etsy, all of my email accounts, my husbands email, texts to my phone and my husband's cell), this person has pretty much cyber stalked me. I clearly told her over each mode of communication that I did not want a relationship with her anymore, and yet she persisted, to the point of me telling her I would call the police if she did not stop harassing me.
To date, over the last 11 months I still have received 3 or more messages/emails above and beyond about 50 communications already mentioned via messages, emails and texts. Which boggles my mind. Why would a person continue to pursue a relationship where she was so clearly not wanted anymore?
Last night I realized I was that person. I have people in my life who would rather be done with me. I know by their actions, their behavior towards me, their lack of wanting to communicate with me... and some of these people are my family.
Over the last week and a half I have beat myself up for not being who they want me to be. Wondered what I could change to make them want me back in their lives. I felt as though they were trying to fit me into a vessel of their choosing, in a shape they desired, and I desperately tried to squeeze myself into that vessel.
Last night this made perfect sense to me: I am a vessel in my own right. Yes I am human, and my vessel is flaked and cracked, scratched and stained... but what some people would find distressed and damaged other people have found "antiqued" and charming, maybe even shabby chic *smile*.
Why would I continue to waste my time and energy on being someone and something I am not? Why try to squeeze myself into their mold of who they think I should be, then be disappointed along with them that I don't fit in that shiny new vessel they want for me?
Fighting back tears momentarily while talking with my husband in the wee hours, in the comfort of darkness and our bed, all of this dawned on me.
For this new year I choose to stop wasting time on trying to be the person other people want me to be. I have decided to stop of wasting energy metaphorically trying to fit my plus sized body into skinny jeans to please other people. Instead of trying to be a better, different person I am going to take that energy and focus on being a better me.
I will repair this vessel. I will fill in the cracks, sand it, maybe put on a new lacquer that enhances the beauty of who I am, instead of chiseling away at myself or painting over everything and losing who I am. I can be a better me: a better wife, friend and mother.
So my reader, this is my wish for you as well for this new year. My wish for you and I is that instead of beating ourselves up with resolutions, hating bad habits and shortcomings we feel about ourselves or imagine what other people see in us...
My wish for us is a year of self acceptance and love, along with a little sanding and buffing.
Be flawed. Embrace your patina, chips and cracks because after all they are what make you uniquely you.
Peace, love and laquer to you,
Mary
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Letting in the light
I decided to wash the dishes and I looked out my kitchen window to see helicopter seeds floating down from the gray sky. Despite the dreariness of the day that brought me momentary joy and smile to my tired face.
My eyes moved to the old tree in our backyard and my moment of joy settled like those seeds drifting across my yard. Dry and blackened in spots, a husk of tree hulks over my house and I am scared that we are one storm away from the upper level being destroyed, our children hurt. Some thirty feet it stands leafless and nearly lifeless, it's bark having fallen off in places. I am truly saddened to see what has become of our beloved shade tree.
I wistfully think about my kids as little ones, this house being the only home they have ever known... tripping over the damned roots of that tree. Despite the bumps and bruises and the momentary tears we have all enjoyed the shade, the sweet rustling of it's tender leaves on warming spring days, and eventually the solace it gave us from the exhausting heat of humid Iowa summers. It was almost as if it knew it had to hang on to get my girls through the early years, providing a haven from light rain and brief rain showers, it's branches hanging over part of their swing set and the rain bouncing from one leaf to another but never really hitting them.
Our tree will be cut down within the next week, and Jacob will never know all of those little things my daughters experienced as little ones. All those things we tend to take for granted that, the seemingly minute details that will one day make their childhood stories somehow more real and tangible. Fond memories from tiny scars...Sweetness for the most bitter of days.
We have known for several years our tree would be cut down and I have wondered how we will ever do without it's shade. Sections of the tree died over the years and we ignored how ugly those branches were, we chose to enjoy what it had left to give us.
I think about how I will miss those approving whispers that graced my ears as I closed my eyes for a moment, my nose raised to catch the green scents that swirled around me. I will miss almost hearing "This... this... this...", the wind tangling and untangling the leaves to cry out in unison as if warning me that I should appreciate this moment. Here, Now; whispers that were muffled by screeches and giggly laughter, the creaking of the swing set and endless requests for food and drink.
But cutting away this dead tree will allow your windows to let in much more light, cheering you despite the summer heat - I think, the repetition of washing dishes almost soothing me. It's wood will warm you in the winter, crackling in the glow of your fireplace... anointing your aching bones. Pretty things will now grow in the places where shadows once were. All things fade, allowing for new life in it's place.
There is so much to be taken from this moment. It speaks to spirituality, to providing a safe haven for my children, life and death and the seeming finality. It spoke to me deeply about my body feeling as if it were failing me, about being so strong yet so fragile.
I'm choosing to ignore the gnarled-ness that my joints feel, the blackened spots on my heart and soul. I still have plenty of shade to give, solace to offer. I'm going to continue to produce gentle whispers of approval, soft reminders to my children to appreciate This. Here. Now... Only I will tuck my roots in as much as possible, I will not trip them up or alter their course from shade to light.
This...
Here...
Now...
My eyes moved to the old tree in our backyard and my moment of joy settled like those seeds drifting across my yard. Dry and blackened in spots, a husk of tree hulks over my house and I am scared that we are one storm away from the upper level being destroyed, our children hurt. Some thirty feet it stands leafless and nearly lifeless, it's bark having fallen off in places. I am truly saddened to see what has become of our beloved shade tree.
I wistfully think about my kids as little ones, this house being the only home they have ever known... tripping over the damned roots of that tree. Despite the bumps and bruises and the momentary tears we have all enjoyed the shade, the sweet rustling of it's tender leaves on warming spring days, and eventually the solace it gave us from the exhausting heat of humid Iowa summers. It was almost as if it knew it had to hang on to get my girls through the early years, providing a haven from light rain and brief rain showers, it's branches hanging over part of their swing set and the rain bouncing from one leaf to another but never really hitting them.
Our tree will be cut down within the next week, and Jacob will never know all of those little things my daughters experienced as little ones. All those things we tend to take for granted that, the seemingly minute details that will one day make their childhood stories somehow more real and tangible. Fond memories from tiny scars...Sweetness for the most bitter of days.
We have known for several years our tree would be cut down and I have wondered how we will ever do without it's shade. Sections of the tree died over the years and we ignored how ugly those branches were, we chose to enjoy what it had left to give us.
I think about how I will miss those approving whispers that graced my ears as I closed my eyes for a moment, my nose raised to catch the green scents that swirled around me. I will miss almost hearing "This... this... this...", the wind tangling and untangling the leaves to cry out in unison as if warning me that I should appreciate this moment. Here, Now; whispers that were muffled by screeches and giggly laughter, the creaking of the swing set and endless requests for food and drink.
But cutting away this dead tree will allow your windows to let in much more light, cheering you despite the summer heat - I think, the repetition of washing dishes almost soothing me. It's wood will warm you in the winter, crackling in the glow of your fireplace... anointing your aching bones. Pretty things will now grow in the places where shadows once were. All things fade, allowing for new life in it's place.
There is so much to be taken from this moment. It speaks to spirituality, to providing a safe haven for my children, life and death and the seeming finality. It spoke to me deeply about my body feeling as if it were failing me, about being so strong yet so fragile.
I'm choosing to ignore the gnarled-ness that my joints feel, the blackened spots on my heart and soul. I still have plenty of shade to give, solace to offer. I'm going to continue to produce gentle whispers of approval, soft reminders to my children to appreciate This. Here. Now... Only I will tuck my roots in as much as possible, I will not trip them up or alter their course from shade to light.
This...
Here...
Now...
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Excuse the dust, this body is under construction
Well, let's see... I'm on dose 4 of Nortriptyline for the new ball and chain in my life, fibromyalgia. I wouldn't say life is better per se, just a little different. I know, I know. I'm only on day 4. I need to give it time to build to a therapeutic level.
Some days have been good and some days have been meh. I'm lucky that so far I haven't really felt any adverse reactions from the medication except for a mild dizziness at times. I did have some nausea this morning but very mild in comparison to what I normally have been feeling every morning for almost a year now.
Yesterday and today my knees are bothering me, and I was unable to make it up the stairs to wake my daughters up for school today. Luckily I was able to coax my oldest out of bed by telling her I couldn't come up this morning.
Otherwise I have hours where I feel pretty good overall. Then I will have a chunk of time where I ache, but not severe pain in more than 6-7 spots like before I started this medication. For the most part I'm back to having 3-4 level pain (out of 10) at times in several spots of my body, but I have been living with that for many years so it's manageable.
Emotionally I feel very isolated, I have had a few people tell me they are available if I need to talk. As with the pain of my childhood, I know from experience that my life is unrelatable for the most part. I have struggled with having been physically and mentally abused by my mother, sexually abused by my father, infertility...
I understand that most people cannot grasp what I explain. I get the general feeling that the things in my past are too crazy, too horrific for most people... and fibromyalgia has made me feel this way once again.
In the end, people ask the questions but rarely really want to hear the answers. So I have learned to plaster on a happy face. Not many people get to see behind the curtain to the real me which is fluffed, powdered and painted for the general masses... for public consumption. I self deprecate and joke to hide my pain, but I have been doing this for so long it is my song and dance, my vaudeville production. I find myself hovering just at the edge of despair and try to go about my day as I would have before my pain was given a name.
What I find hilarious on a cosmic level is this: I have for many, many years swallowed my pain, distracted myself from the depths of depression, avoided "professional help" because I do not want to be lumped in with the likes of my mother. I do not want to be diagnosed with mental illness. I do not want to be told I have problems and that I need to be on medication. I most certainly have never wanted to walk around in a drug induced haze to numb the pain.
And yet here I am... on an antidepressant for this. I have laughed bitterly about this to myself. I can do nothing but cry out to God for some sort of solace and relief, and even though I know ( and have known in my 42 years, and the knowing has kept me from falling into the blackest of depressions) that there are all sorts of people out there in this world- especially little ones- that are going through so much worse than what I have experienced in my life.
It makes me sad and thankful. It makes me pray on occasion, especially when I happen to hear the unspeakable things going on outside my little bubble.
It brings me to my knees and I thank God for the breath I draw, for this life that I have, for a man that loves me even though I have fallen short in so many ways, for children that I was told I would never have.
So excuse me for a moment, pardon my dust while I sort through the storm. I will find a place of quiet safety, I will be glad for all that I have... mostly. :) It's not going to be rainbows and Disney animals all the time folks but even now I am swimming my way to the surface for a breath of air.
Excuse me while I let love and light build to therapeutic levels.
I am still trying to change my point of view, one positive thought at a time.
Some days have been good and some days have been meh. I'm lucky that so far I haven't really felt any adverse reactions from the medication except for a mild dizziness at times. I did have some nausea this morning but very mild in comparison to what I normally have been feeling every morning for almost a year now.
Yesterday and today my knees are bothering me, and I was unable to make it up the stairs to wake my daughters up for school today. Luckily I was able to coax my oldest out of bed by telling her I couldn't come up this morning.
Otherwise I have hours where I feel pretty good overall. Then I will have a chunk of time where I ache, but not severe pain in more than 6-7 spots like before I started this medication. For the most part I'm back to having 3-4 level pain (out of 10) at times in several spots of my body, but I have been living with that for many years so it's manageable.
Emotionally I feel very isolated, I have had a few people tell me they are available if I need to talk. As with the pain of my childhood, I know from experience that my life is unrelatable for the most part. I have struggled with having been physically and mentally abused by my mother, sexually abused by my father, infertility...
I understand that most people cannot grasp what I explain. I get the general feeling that the things in my past are too crazy, too horrific for most people... and fibromyalgia has made me feel this way once again.
In the end, people ask the questions but rarely really want to hear the answers. So I have learned to plaster on a happy face. Not many people get to see behind the curtain to the real me which is fluffed, powdered and painted for the general masses... for public consumption. I self deprecate and joke to hide my pain, but I have been doing this for so long it is my song and dance, my vaudeville production. I find myself hovering just at the edge of despair and try to go about my day as I would have before my pain was given a name.
What I find hilarious on a cosmic level is this: I have for many, many years swallowed my pain, distracted myself from the depths of depression, avoided "professional help" because I do not want to be lumped in with the likes of my mother. I do not want to be diagnosed with mental illness. I do not want to be told I have problems and that I need to be on medication. I most certainly have never wanted to walk around in a drug induced haze to numb the pain.
And yet here I am... on an antidepressant for this. I have laughed bitterly about this to myself. I can do nothing but cry out to God for some sort of solace and relief, and even though I know ( and have known in my 42 years, and the knowing has kept me from falling into the blackest of depressions) that there are all sorts of people out there in this world- especially little ones- that are going through so much worse than what I have experienced in my life.
It makes me sad and thankful. It makes me pray on occasion, especially when I happen to hear the unspeakable things going on outside my little bubble.
It brings me to my knees and I thank God for the breath I draw, for this life that I have, for a man that loves me even though I have fallen short in so many ways, for children that I was told I would never have.
So excuse me for a moment, pardon my dust while I sort through the storm. I will find a place of quiet safety, I will be glad for all that I have... mostly. :) It's not going to be rainbows and Disney animals all the time folks but even now I am swimming my way to the surface for a breath of air.
Excuse me while I let love and light build to therapeutic levels.
I am still trying to change my point of view, one positive thought at a time.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
I passed the test...Do I get a prize?
Today I had my doctors appointment, and let me first say that I am so blessed to have a family doc that listens and does not patronize me. He truly cares. I suppose it helps that he and John go to the same men's group at church on Saturdays and that they are kind of friends.
Knowing me and my medical history can be overwhelming so I took some time this morning to type up a brief history of complaints specifically related to what I think is going on with me. Call it OCD, call it odd... You would be right. I am nothing if not prepared.
After listening to me, and letting me know he had read my semi-exhausting exhaustive history, he told me that there were pressure points he wanted to check. I nodded in agreement, wincing internally, already knowing where those points were from my Google searches on Fibromyalgia.
It went a little something like this:
Doc, while pressing on my hips: Here...
Me: Yeh-ESSS!!!
Doc, pressing my lower back: Herrrrre...
Me: YUP!!!!!
Doc, pressing my right inner elbow: HERRREEE...
Me: Ummmm no...
Doc: Really? *he moves his fingers slightly*
Me: OK. Yes. YESSS!! YUUUUUUUP!!! *begging and pleading with my eyes and inflection for him to stop*
It went on like this until he had checked all 18 points, apologizing profusely as he went. He then told me that I had all 18 out of 18. My doc told me, "Yes, I believe you do have Fibromyalgia. You have all the classic symptoms."
He wants to try the lowest dose of Nortriptyline one pill at bed time, then to see me in 4 weeks.
Having been a nurse I already knew that serotonin plays a big part in a lot of disorders and illnesses like OCD, depression, altered pain pathways and excessive pain. I also already knew that depression meds have been helpful in these instances so I was not surprised to find that I would be on a med that was normally prescribed for depression.
He is also having me try a new medication for reflux. I have had a sensitivity and allergic reactions to many medications in the past, including recently Prilosec. I have taken Cymbalta in the past and only stayed on for 5 days because it made me feel nauseated and sick, loopy and apathetic. I hope I do ok on these new meds. I guess I'll try the Nortriptyline first, taking two new meds would be just stupid in my case.
I did cry briefly when he gave it a name. I'll be honest. It was a mix of relief and sadness that washed over me, but he was very sweet and that made such a huge difference. He reassured me we would try what we needed to until we found something that worked for me.
He told me to stay away from caffeine, chocolate, greasy food and spicy food. I gave him a grumpy face and "harrumphed", and he laughed. I told a dear friend today that my doctor had basically cut out my whole diet.
What happened in the next few minutes is typically what you can expect from me. I always use humor to make people laugh, deflect pain, lighten the mood. It's one of my strongest survival skills. My doc asked my how on earth I had gone this long without being diagnosed, why I had never brought up fibromyalgia before. I told him again how I lived most of my life in pain, pain was just a fact of everyday life for me. Being that I have not spoken to my mother in eight years, it had not ever entered my mind until I started having MORE pain, and more pain simultaneously.
Doc, shaking his head and chuckling: Well, you have 18 out of 18...
Me: I'm an over-achiever... you should already know this about me!!! I had 30 gallstones for Pete's sake, I don't do anything halfway!
When I told my husband what my doc had taken out of my diet, he nearly fell over laughing hysterically. I pleaded with my husband, "What the -insert expletive here- am I supposed to eat then? RICE???"
I guess I'm going on the Survivor diet.
Until then ...
I hope and dream.
~Mary
Knowing me and my medical history can be overwhelming so I took some time this morning to type up a brief history of complaints specifically related to what I think is going on with me. Call it OCD, call it odd... You would be right. I am nothing if not prepared.
After listening to me, and letting me know he had read my semi-
It went a little something like this:
Doc, while pressing on my hips: Here...
Me: Yeh-ESSS!!!
Doc, pressing my lower back: Herrrrre...
Me: YUP!!!!!
Doc, pressing my right inner elbow: HERRREEE...
Me: Ummmm no...
Doc: Really? *he moves his fingers slightly*
Me: OK. Yes. YESSS!! YUUUUUUUP!!! *begging and pleading with my eyes and inflection for him to stop*
It went on like this until he had checked all 18 points, apologizing profusely as he went. He then told me that I had all 18 out of 18. My doc told me, "Yes, I believe you do have Fibromyalgia. You have all the classic symptoms."
He wants to try the lowest dose of Nortriptyline one pill at bed time, then to see me in 4 weeks.
Having been a nurse I already knew that serotonin plays a big part in a lot of disorders and illnesses like OCD, depression, altered pain pathways and excessive pain. I also already knew that depression meds have been helpful in these instances so I was not surprised to find that I would be on a med that was normally prescribed for depression.
He is also having me try a new medication for reflux. I have had a sensitivity and allergic reactions to many medications in the past, including recently Prilosec. I have taken Cymbalta in the past and only stayed on for 5 days because it made me feel nauseated and sick, loopy and apathetic. I hope I do ok on these new meds. I guess I'll try the Nortriptyline first, taking two new meds would be just stupid in my case.
I did cry briefly when he gave it a name. I'll be honest. It was a mix of relief and sadness that washed over me, but he was very sweet and that made such a huge difference. He reassured me we would try what we needed to until we found something that worked for me.
On a lighter note!!! (wait for it... )
He told me to stay away from caffeine, chocolate, greasy food and spicy food. I gave him a grumpy face and "harrumphed", and he laughed. I told a dear friend today that my doctor had basically cut out my whole diet.
What happened in the next few minutes is typically what you can expect from me. I always use humor to make people laugh, deflect pain, lighten the mood. It's one of my strongest survival skills. My doc asked my how on earth I had gone this long without being diagnosed, why I had never brought up fibromyalgia before. I told him again how I lived most of my life in pain, pain was just a fact of everyday life for me. Being that I have not spoken to my mother in eight years, it had not ever entered my mind until I started having MORE pain, and more pain simultaneously.
Doc, shaking his head and chuckling: Well, you have 18 out of 18...
Me: I'm an over-achiever... you should already know this about me!!! I had 30 gallstones for Pete's sake, I don't do anything halfway!
When I told my husband what my doc had taken out of my diet, he nearly fell over laughing hysterically. I pleaded with my husband, "What the -insert expletive here- am I supposed to eat then? RICE???"
I guess I'm going on the Survivor diet.
This is the face of Fibromyalgia :)
One day it will be this again...
I hope and dream.
~Mary
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Hoping
I'm hoping there is a light at the end of this tunnel; I know tomorrow's doctor visit is just the beginning of finding out what is going on with my body.
I wonder if he will send me to a rheumatologist?
I basically feel like I have the flu[s]. I am so tired, my body aches in different spots, sometimes all at once. I have lower stomach aches every time I need to use the restroom, and I often become nauseated. That coupled with CONSTANT heartburn and the fact that I fell yesterday (I am feeling the affects of that on the right side, the side I fell on)...
I can feel myself slipping into a depression. I do not want to live like this for the rest of my life, but it's not my choice.
I feel like my constant complaining is annoying to my family, and they tune me out. So I choose to suffer in silence. They ask me what's wrong. I say "nothing".
My 20 month old is going through an extremely clingy phase just like the other 2 did. I find I cannot walk 5 feet, let alone leave the room for a few minutes without him whining, crying or going full tilt. It makes me more anxious... I feel so trapped in so many ways.
The things I choose to concentrate on are giving my kids hugs and telling them I love them, thanking them for helping me when I ask- even if they help me begrudgingly. I have been trying to be affectionate with my husband but I'm not sure he notices (or cares) , which makes me desperately sad. BUT... my kids accept my love and soak it in. That will have to do for now :)
Tonight I get to polish some jewelry I have up for sale in a salon in town, bring in a table for the vintage teacup candles I have made and a table to display them on. I also hope to get in a few new pieces as well.
I'm hanging on to the glimmers and glimpses of hope, and in the meantime I try not to be too anxious about wondering what my doc will have to say.
I hope you have a peaceful day, wherever you are.
~Mary
I wonder if he will send me to a rheumatologist?
I basically feel like I have the flu[s]. I am so tired, my body aches in different spots, sometimes all at once. I have lower stomach aches every time I need to use the restroom, and I often become nauseated. That coupled with CONSTANT heartburn and the fact that I fell yesterday (I am feeling the affects of that on the right side, the side I fell on)...
I can feel myself slipping into a depression. I do not want to live like this for the rest of my life, but it's not my choice.
I feel like my constant complaining is annoying to my family, and they tune me out. So I choose to suffer in silence. They ask me what's wrong. I say "nothing".
My 20 month old is going through an extremely clingy phase just like the other 2 did. I find I cannot walk 5 feet, let alone leave the room for a few minutes without him whining, crying or going full tilt. It makes me more anxious... I feel so trapped in so many ways.
The things I choose to concentrate on are giving my kids hugs and telling them I love them, thanking them for helping me when I ask- even if they help me begrudgingly. I have been trying to be affectionate with my husband but I'm not sure he notices (or cares) , which makes me desperately sad. BUT... my kids accept my love and soak it in. That will have to do for now :)
Tonight I get to polish some jewelry I have up for sale in a salon in town, bring in a table for the vintage teacup candles I have made and a table to display them on. I also hope to get in a few new pieces as well.
I'm hanging on to the glimmers and glimpses of hope, and in the meantime I try not to be too anxious about wondering what my doc will have to say.
I hope you have a peaceful day, wherever you are.
~Mary
Saturday, April 07, 2012
What is this pain? Could it be fibromyalgia?
I have been living with physical pain for quite some time, I believe my first chronic pain started when I was 11. I can remember falling onto my back from a great height for the second time in my life, the first time being when I was probably only 4. Since the 6th grade I have had back problems.
Everyday I have pain. Sometimes aches, sometimes a tremendous amount of joint pain after sitting for 1/2 hour. This has been my life for the last 31 of my 42 years, until recently.
Let me just say that having a baby at the age of 40 was hard on me, I strongly recommend you do NOT try it unless you are of sound body! I was very sick most of the pregnancy, living from my recliner and just standing for a few minutes had me contracting. This son of mine took me down, literally. I shrunk a whole inch while pregnant with Jacob. I ached, I struggled to move from my trusty recliner just to use the restroom or get a drink.
Nearly two years later, still feeling so very sick after he was born my surgeon discovered a whopping 30 gallstones in my gallbladder. But why I am I still nauseated most mornings? Surely I cannot live like this after being told that I would feel so much better after having my gallbladder removed.
And now, two weeks ago I started having aches and pains in my left shoulder which gradually escalated to full on fire and tenderness. Just gently wrapping a towel around my shoulders after a shower brought tears to my eyes just a few days ago.
The pain seems to have started in my left shoulder and each day after moved across my torso a little more. I don't mean that the pain was only in the new spot, I mean I was and am having simultaneous pain firing off at the same time throughout my body. It brought me to tears. It has worked it's way to my right shoulder now and my lower right back.
In the midst of this I realized that my mother had told me many years ago that she was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I Googled symptoms and I seemed to have the almost all of them, which is unsettling and yet comforting at the same time. The cause of my pain now (possibly) has a name, yet the thought of living with this for the rest of my life is very depressing.
From WebMD:
Common symptoms of fibromyalgia -- also known as fibromyalgia syndrome or FMS -- may include:
I once again am sequestered to my trusty recliner while my house work and jewelry to do list seems to grow to unmanageable levels. I take care of my kids and do the basics like dishes, while the laundry piles up.
In the meantime, I have an appointment this next week with my family doctor. I am axious to hear what he has to say.
If you have a history of FMS and you have some tips for me or websites that you would like to share, I would be grateful! Tell me what you are doing to ease your symptoms and what you are doing to cope.
Thanks for reading!
Keeping it real, keeping it honest with a glimmer of hope,
Mary
Everyday I have pain. Sometimes aches, sometimes a tremendous amount of joint pain after sitting for 1/2 hour. This has been my life for the last 31 of my 42 years, until recently.
Let me just say that having a baby at the age of 40 was hard on me, I strongly recommend you do NOT try it unless you are of sound body! I was very sick most of the pregnancy, living from my recliner and just standing for a few minutes had me contracting. This son of mine took me down, literally. I shrunk a whole inch while pregnant with Jacob. I ached, I struggled to move from my trusty recliner just to use the restroom or get a drink.
Nearly two years later, still feeling so very sick after he was born my surgeon discovered a whopping 30 gallstones in my gallbladder. But why I am I still nauseated most mornings? Surely I cannot live like this after being told that I would feel so much better after having my gallbladder removed.
And now, two weeks ago I started having aches and pains in my left shoulder which gradually escalated to full on fire and tenderness. Just gently wrapping a towel around my shoulders after a shower brought tears to my eyes just a few days ago.
The pain seems to have started in my left shoulder and each day after moved across my torso a little more. I don't mean that the pain was only in the new spot, I mean I was and am having simultaneous pain firing off at the same time throughout my body. It brought me to tears. It has worked it's way to my right shoulder now and my lower right back.
In the midst of this I realized that my mother had told me many years ago that she was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I Googled symptoms and I seemed to have the almost all of them, which is unsettling and yet comforting at the same time. The cause of my pain now (possibly) has a name, yet the thought of living with this for the rest of my life is very depressing.
From WebMD:
Common symptoms of fibromyalgia -- also known as fibromyalgia syndrome or FMS -- may include:
- Pain
- Anxiety
- Concentration and memory problems -- known as "fibro fog"
- Depression
- Fatigue
- Headaches
- Irritable bowel syndrome
- Morning stiffness
- Painful menstrual cramps
- Sleep problems
- Swelling, numbness, and tingling in hands, arms, feet, and legs
- Tender points
- Urinary symptoms
I once again am sequestered to my trusty recliner while my house work and jewelry to do list seems to grow to unmanageable levels. I take care of my kids and do the basics like dishes, while the laundry piles up.
In the meantime, I have an appointment this next week with my family doctor. I am axious to hear what he has to say.
If you have a history of FMS and you have some tips for me or websites that you would like to share, I would be grateful! Tell me what you are doing to ease your symptoms and what you are doing to cope.
Thanks for reading!
Keeping it real, keeping it honest with a glimmer of hope,
Mary
Sunday, November 30, 2008
I put the "F U" in fun
Black Friday and holiday shopping fun, yes? This year not so much. What's with the killing of the people?The stampeding and gunfire? Are you kidding me?
Let me just say that though I have on occasion imagined myself bludgeoning someone while out rubbing elbows with people that I like to refer to as "rude, morally-bankrupt animals", I would never.... NEVER resort to violence outside of daydreaming when faced with not getting something that I want.
Is this what we have come to?
How does it make sense that a season, first and foremost named as the season of GIVING, should cause such hostility and homicidal tendencies? Oh, right. Christmas is no longer Merry Christmas... but XMAS, Happy Holidays, etc, etc, etc. 'Tis the season of give me more, because if you don't , you're a bad parent/child/sibling/grandchild and you don't really love me-me-me-me-me.
I will admit that I have been guilty of commercialism, of going over board because I want my kids to have all the things that I didn't, and I have come to realize that by doing so I have created mini monsters who play with new toys for about a week then grow bored of them. Lesson learned. We have scaled waaaaay back on gift giving for any holiday, and we donate the things no longer played with, the ones that are collecting dust.
It has been a painful process, realizing all that has been compromised... my children's egos, my wallet, and the core of our souls. No thing can make my kids love me, and no trinket can show them how much I love them. That is up to me, and up to them. I thank God that my husband and I have come to this realization before it was too late.
Oh, I'm sure we might get the "I'm looking for more presents underneath the ripped and tattered remains of what probably amounts to 3 trees" , and even a small "is that it?" look from at least one of my ankle biters... but we'll get there. Baby steps, people. ;)
But honestly? I'm not sure I want to buy into a holiday that has been tainted with sacrificial blood. Maybe I will opt out next year. Maybe the 25th of each month will be cause for celebration, and maybe, just maybe we can celebrate the true meaning of Christmas every day of every single year without killing someone.
That would be swell.
OK, I'm jumping off of my soapbox now, and I'll leave you with this thought (OK, I'm only standing with one foot on the soap box right now):
This being my first year of retail hell ( I work at the Tar-jay), I would emplore all of the lovely shoppers out there to at least try to put something back in its original spot. If you don't want it? Ya know what? Take it to the register anyway and say these eleven magical words.
"I don't want this, can you put this back for me?"
Those eleven mystical and magical words would reduce hundreds of thousands of man hours of hunting what we like to call reshops from the candy aisle and eventually returning it to the lingerie section.
What does that mean for you you might ask? Lower cost, better savings.
And me, not mentally flipping you the bird. Just a thought.
Hugs and kisses,
~mert
Let me just say that though I have on occasion imagined myself bludgeoning someone while out rubbing elbows with people that I like to refer to as "rude, morally-bankrupt animals", I would never.... NEVER resort to violence outside of daydreaming when faced with not getting something that I want.
Is this what we have come to?
How does it make sense that a season, first and foremost named as the season of GIVING, should cause such hostility and homicidal tendencies? Oh, right. Christmas is no longer Merry Christmas... but XMAS, Happy Holidays, etc, etc, etc. 'Tis the season of give me more, because if you don't , you're a bad parent/child/sibling/grandchild and you don't really love me-me-me-me-me.
I will admit that I have been guilty of commercialism, of going over board because I want my kids to have all the things that I didn't, and I have come to realize that by doing so I have created mini monsters who play with new toys for about a week then grow bored of them. Lesson learned. We have scaled waaaaay back on gift giving for any holiday, and we donate the things no longer played with, the ones that are collecting dust.
It has been a painful process, realizing all that has been compromised... my children's egos, my wallet, and the core of our souls. No thing can make my kids love me, and no trinket can show them how much I love them. That is up to me, and up to them. I thank God that my husband and I have come to this realization before it was too late.
Oh, I'm sure we might get the "I'm looking for more presents underneath the ripped and tattered remains of what probably amounts to 3 trees" , and even a small "is that it?" look from at least one of my ankle biters... but we'll get there. Baby steps, people. ;)
But honestly? I'm not sure I want to buy into a holiday that has been tainted with sacrificial blood. Maybe I will opt out next year. Maybe the 25th of each month will be cause for celebration, and maybe, just maybe we can celebrate the true meaning of Christmas every day of every single year without killing someone.
That would be swell.
OK, I'm jumping off of my soapbox now, and I'll leave you with this thought (OK, I'm only standing with one foot on the soap box right now):
This being my first year of retail hell ( I work at the Tar-jay), I would emplore all of the lovely shoppers out there to at least try to put something back in its original spot. If you don't want it? Ya know what? Take it to the register anyway and say these eleven magical words.
"I don't want this, can you put this back for me?"
Those eleven mystical and magical words would reduce hundreds of thousands of man hours of hunting what we like to call reshops from the candy aisle and eventually returning it to the lingerie section.
What does that mean for you you might ask? Lower cost, better savings.
And me, not mentally flipping you the bird. Just a thought.
Hugs and kisses,
~mert
Thursday, September 18, 2008
In that case, you're fired!
Anna (7 1/2, going on 35 1/2): I think I want to take walks, because walking will make me healthier. Then if someone wants me to model, I'll be in good shape. I could take modeling classes...
Me: Modeling classes would probably cost money. And we , ummmm, don't have any.
Anna, leaning in closer for emphasis: Make more money then.
Me: Maybe you should get a job.
Anna, smiling sweetly: I have a job, it's annoying you.
Mary, smiling incredulously: Well, you're pretty darned good at your job.
Anna, laughing and crossing her arms: If I'm so good at my job, maybe you should give me a raise.
Cute, smart and funny? Someday the man of her dreams is going to be in BIG trouble. I hope Prince Charming has a sense of humor, otherwise he's so screwed.
Me: Modeling classes would probably cost money. And we , ummmm, don't have any.
Anna, leaning in closer for emphasis: Make more money then.
Me: Maybe you should get a job.
Anna, smiling sweetly: I have a job, it's annoying you.
Mary, smiling incredulously: Well, you're pretty darned good at your job.
Anna, laughing and crossing her arms: If I'm so good at my job, maybe you should give me a raise.
Cute, smart and funny? Someday the man of her dreams is going to be in BIG trouble. I hope Prince Charming has a sense of humor, otherwise he's so screwed.
Monday, July 07, 2008
It takes a village... (OR- why my 4th of July weekend sucked)
Of idiots to ruin my 4th of July weekend. Bah.
Let me just say that normally, I am a very tolerant person. I think I'm pretty nice to the people I kind of know, very nice to the people I love (but I do rule with a stern hand- sometimes an iron fist, I must say), and polite and accommodating to most strangers -unless they fall into the idiot category, then it's so on.
I think that my polite kindness and my kind politeness may be considered my Achilles' heel, which makes me, in turn, a heel.
I guess the best place to start would be the beginning, no? My 4th of July weekend started with me working. Hooray. People need their hot dog combos and popcorn, so I suppose someone has to do it, even if it's a holiday. It was OK though, we managed to work on the monstrosity of a swing set while the kids played on it's re-composing skeleton ( re-composing IT IS TOO a word, get over it), played in the pool and sand box... and I even grilled lunch, almost melting the grill's plastic hood.
Anywho, later I had to go to work. I figured I could kick some butt and leave early since closing of Food Avenue is 8 pm and the fact that I could prep most of the work before then and leave at about 8:20 PM instead of dragging things out until 9 PM.
NOPE. The Lead Cashier needed me to walk rounds to collect the cash from the cash registers, leaving me to get off of work at, yup you guessed it... 9PM.
You would think that I would want to get off early to see the fireworks, right? WRONG. See in the ass backwards town I live in, we like have a little thing called River Boat Days on the Mississippi river. It has a small carnival and concerts near the pool. But they way we do it is that River Boat Days starts on the 3rd and ends the 5th. Fireworks are AFTER River Boat Days ends.
What? 4th of July without fireworks? I know. It sux. So the 5th I'm off and we decided to work on the swing set some more, go see Wall-e again ( because we loved it the first time we saw it)then go see the fireworks sometime between 9:30 and 10pm.
We worked on the swing set as planned. Then my snotty neighbor's obnoxious boy a year younger than Anna, but just as big as her- who doesn't listen to his mother at all- decides he is going to invite himself over to play on the swing set with his sister in tow. The sister is OK most of the time when she isn't viewing Emma as competition or a threat for some reason, and trying to sneak subtle abuse under the radar. The neighbor? She can be friendly at times, but recently has become a little snotty and condescending, and has implied that her life is harder than mine because she believed I still didn't work. Like I'm not worth as much for not working. It's not my fault she is a single mother of3 for Pete's sake. Sheesh. She implied by her tone one day that I was an idiot to think that she had a spare moment to herself, and then said she supposed she could use some of the hand me downs I had given to her for her new baby. When someone gives me a free bag of anything I say thank you, whether or not I can use any or all of it. Usually, lately- though I thought we were becoming friends in the past- we just wave to each other because I have decided that I'm not going to give her the opportunity to ruin my day by making me feel like an idiot. Last weekend she ignored me completely while her sister was in town, even though her kids were across the alley in my back yard... while her sister looked on with an expression I can only describe as"Oh. Mah. Gah. They are like totally over? in that lady's yard? Ugh, is that like a BUM shirt she is wearing? So 1990".
They have moments when they can be nice ( but usually are yelling and screaming at each other, and the older brother tends to be a bully, meanwhile the mom is too overwhelmed I think to do anything most of the time, so he gets away with it) but I'm keeping an eye on them and giving them a chance to be good instead of sending them home. I don't want to hurt their feelings by doing this even though I have dreaded this moment because the neighbor lets their kids come over whenever they want with out asking or caring if this is ok with John and me. I don't want my yard to be an amusement park for the whole neighborhood, and a free day care for the parents. Crap, it's happening, but I'm determined to handle it as best as I can. Soon, the brother and sister get bored and decide to jump in our pool. I ask him to go ask his mom if it's OK if they swim in our pool.
He comes back and says that his mom said yes. The mom comes over, suddenly very friendly, and checks to see if her children are behaving. The boy is not. The mother attempts to make him behave, but he doesn't. His mom tries to make him go home because he is being bad, but he refuses to get out of the pool. She kind of gives up and mumbles he is going to get time out if he doesn't get out while she crosses the alley back to her house, he ignores her. I tell him if he doesn't get out NOW, and listen to his mom, he won't ever be allowed back in the pool. He complains it's not fair and goes back to his house, while Anna and the sister continue to play in the pool.
The sister decides that she will take out some of her frustration from being bullied all day long by her brother on Emma, but splashing her in the face. I give her "the look" and quietly tell her to knock it off.
She knows I mean business and plays very nicely with the girls, except for the parts where she still views Emma as a threat/competition and refuses to play with her. *SIGH*
The girls are hungry, I feed them, including the neighbor's daughter, and they decide they want to play in my girls' room. I go over and ask the neighbor if that is OK, she says yes. She stays for awhile. The girl gets bored and goes home.
My girls decide they want to dry off so they play inside for awhile.
Phew. Good. An hour later the girls decide they want to get their swimsuits on (even though Emma just likes to play outside of the pool, occasionally getting her hands wet). While they finish getting dressed I go outside and remove the pool cover... then come back inside to see the boy in his swimming trunks, peeking inside our back door. I groan and wait a few minutes, hoping he will leave. He doesn't so i tell the girls to go out I'll be right behind them. Before Anna even gets out the back door, the boy is in MY POOL. Anna tells me, I become exasperated and go outside.
"Did you ask your mom if you could get in?"Hiding my fangs, I tell him he needs to go ask his mom if it's ok if he gets in the pool because I don't want her unaware should he get hurt.
No, he says, he'll go ask. I stop him. "NEXT TIME, you need to ask me first before you jump in my pool." He avoids eye contact. I ask him if her heard me, he says yes.
He comes back and says that his mom said yes.
He slaps Anna and his sister with a pool toy. I tell him no hitting or he will have to leave. he stops for a bit, then continues to jump in and out of pool (getting leaves and grass in the pool I just spent 20 minutes cleaning with a net), like he did when his mom was over, I tell him to knock it off. He leans over the side of the pool, letting gallons of water out, I tell him to knock it off.
Finally I have had enough. "There is one thing you are going to learn while over in my yard... If you don't follow my rules, you're out of here," I say while jabbing a thumb in the direction of his house, across the ally. He ignores me, I ask him 2 times if her heard me, he finally says yes.
He waits a few minutes, then tries to blow water at Emma through a pool noodle, I yell"Don't you dare." He dumps 3 buckets of water over Anna's head, despite her yelling stop and she screams because he got a lot of water in both of her ears, I tell him enough and before I can even finish, he starts slapping Anna on the head "trying to help her get the water out of her ears" then slaps his sister and Anna again with the pool toy, the noodle.
"OK, that's it, you're outta here."
He gives me a blank stare.
"Go on.. GET out. Go home."
He gets out and goes home.
They play for a bit and get out because they are cold. The boy comes over and asks if the sister is staying at my house because he is going somewhere with his mom and their baby brother. I say no, we are going in side.
He says, "Mom said she can stay here while we leave."
"No she can't, we- meaning me and my girls- are going inside. You have to go home now," I say to the girl, not trying to be mean so I soften my tone, though I am angry that the mother seems to think I'm her free day care, "I'm sorry, you have to go home." Grrrrrr!
Later, I go outside to put the pool cover on, and she pokes her head out her kitchen door, "Thanks for letting my kids play, were they good?"
Pfffft. "No," I say, "HE wasn't, that's why I sent him home."
Oh, she says, she asked him why he was back home and he told her he just wanted to come back home. She said she asked him if he was bad, and he lied.
I explain that he was slapping the girls with the pool toy, so I sent him home. She says nothing.
Then I decide that since I'm clearing the air, "He got in my pool without even asking. We were coming outside and he was already inside the pool". She mumbles something I can't hear over my air conditioning unit. I tell her that I told him "There is one thing you are going to learn while over in my yard... If you don't follow my rules, your out of here", she says OK, then says sorry.
I wave good bye over my shoulder and go back inside.
What really makes me angry is that her kids are running around and she has no clue where they are, or if she does see them in my yard doesn't care that they just invite themselves over... why? because again, she is overwhelmed? Not my problem. To top it off? This happened while she had a "male visitor" over at her house.
To make matters worse (if you are even still reading this rambling rant), later we go a little early to see the fireworks to make sure we get a good spot. We get down to the river front just after 9pm. We wait, and wait and wait. And what do we hear? Are you kidding me? The last concert act , The Blue Oyster Cult starts their lasp part of the show late, and still no fireworks because the fireworks don't start until River Boat Days is officially over. It's freaking quarter to 11pm, and no fireworks. We decide to follow the hundreds of people that are leaving the area and go home, very disappointed. And would you believe? They started the fireworks shortly after we left. Forgive me if I'm wrong but fireworks are really for kids and you're starting at 11pm? IDIOTS!
Not only do we not have fireworks on the 4th , like every other NORMAL town, but we wait the next day in vain, for almost 2 hours.
The next day... the neighbor's daughter invites herself over just minutes after we get outside, and immediately jumps on a swing. *2 and half SIGHS, while noticing her mother isn't paying attention that her kid is in my yard, and deciding that I need to nip this ALL in the bud because I refuse to be free day care, especially to someone who has so openly despised me*
"You're going to have to go home."
"Why?"
Choosing my words carefully, I say, "Because I don't want you guys over here today [as in: because I am very tired and would like to spend my day not having to discipline someone else's kids]."
Still refusing to get off the swing," WHY?"
"Because I said so, that's why," I say, exasperated.
"Well, we were going to play in our (baby) pool, ANYWAY," she says in a snotty voice, while walking away.
"Good for you. Bye."
She must have told her mother what I said because later last night they came over to ask what John and I were doing to our pool ( adding shock), and the mother called them back over immediately. I hope she got the message because though I'm nice, I don't let people walk all over me. Not anymore. Why? Because people suck, says the pessimist.
It's so irritating to me, and the reason is that we went through something similar when Anna was a toddler. There is a girl that lives a few houses down that was 3 or 4 years older than Anna, and she didn't seem to have any friends. So we had a really small pool and she would see Anna and I playing in it , then show up minutes later at my back yard, slowly creeping towards the pool while asking me questions... eventually getting in the pool without asking. Her mother would say to me, "OH, I noticed she was in your pool..." and I would say, yeah she just showed up in her swim suit and just jumped right in. "oh, she invited herself over," she would laugh,"She does that all the time."
Yeah, well... you might want to do something about that, I mean sheesh! Do you even care where you child is? Once, she invited herself over to play with Anna, and her father, who was supposed to be watching her while his wife was out of town... just drove off and left her at my house without even asking me. He didn't even acknowledge that she was in my yard as he drove by my yard , through the alley! NICE.
If you are going to try to shove your kids off on other people so you can have a break? Please do us all a favor and don't bother to procreate anymore.
OK, rant over.
And now you know why my 4th of July sucked.
The end.
Let me just say that normally, I am a very tolerant person. I think I'm pretty nice to the people I kind of know, very nice to the people I love (but I do rule with a stern hand- sometimes an iron fist, I must say), and polite and accommodating to most strangers -unless they fall into the idiot category, then it's so on.
I think that my polite kindness and my kind politeness may be considered my Achilles' heel, which makes me, in turn, a heel.
I guess the best place to start would be the beginning, no? My 4th of July weekend started with me working. Hooray. People need their hot dog combos and popcorn, so I suppose someone has to do it, even if it's a holiday. It was OK though, we managed to work on the monstrosity of a swing set while the kids played on it's re-composing skeleton ( re-composing IT IS TOO a word, get over it), played in the pool and sand box... and I even grilled lunch, almost melting the grill's plastic hood.
Anywho, later I had to go to work. I figured I could kick some butt and leave early since closing of Food Avenue is 8 pm and the fact that I could prep most of the work before then and leave at about 8:20 PM instead of dragging things out until 9 PM.
NOPE. The Lead Cashier needed me to walk rounds to collect the cash from the cash registers, leaving me to get off of work at, yup you guessed it... 9PM.
You would think that I would want to get off early to see the fireworks, right? WRONG. See in the ass backwards town I live in, we like have a little thing called River Boat Days on the Mississippi river. It has a small carnival and concerts near the pool. But they way we do it is that River Boat Days starts on the 3rd and ends the 5th. Fireworks are AFTER River Boat Days ends.
What? 4th of July without fireworks? I know. It sux. So the 5th I'm off and we decided to work on the swing set some more, go see Wall-e again ( because we loved it the first time we saw it)then go see the fireworks sometime between 9:30 and 10pm.
We worked on the swing set as planned. Then my snotty neighbor's obnoxious boy a year younger than Anna, but just as big as her- who doesn't listen to his mother at all- decides he is going to invite himself over to play on the swing set with his sister in tow. The sister is OK most of the time when she isn't viewing Emma as competition or a threat for some reason, and trying to sneak subtle abuse under the radar. The neighbor? She can be friendly at times, but recently has become a little snotty and condescending, and has implied that her life is harder than mine because she believed I still didn't work. Like I'm not worth as much for not working. It's not my fault she is a single mother of3 for Pete's sake. Sheesh. She implied by her tone one day that I was an idiot to think that she had a spare moment to herself, and then said she supposed she could use some of the hand me downs I had given to her for her new baby. When someone gives me a free bag of anything I say thank you, whether or not I can use any or all of it. Usually, lately- though I thought we were becoming friends in the past- we just wave to each other because I have decided that I'm not going to give her the opportunity to ruin my day by making me feel like an idiot. Last weekend she ignored me completely while her sister was in town, even though her kids were across the alley in my back yard... while her sister looked on with an expression I can only describe as"Oh. Mah. Gah. They are like totally over? in that lady's yard? Ugh, is that like a BUM shirt she is wearing? So 1990".
They have moments when they can be nice ( but usually are yelling and screaming at each other, and the older brother tends to be a bully, meanwhile the mom is too overwhelmed I think to do anything most of the time, so he gets away with it) but I'm keeping an eye on them and giving them a chance to be good instead of sending them home. I don't want to hurt their feelings by doing this even though I have dreaded this moment because the neighbor lets their kids come over whenever they want with out asking or caring if this is ok with John and me. I don't want my yard to be an amusement park for the whole neighborhood, and a free day care for the parents. Crap, it's happening, but I'm determined to handle it as best as I can. Soon, the brother and sister get bored and decide to jump in our pool. I ask him to go ask his mom if it's OK if they swim in our pool.
He comes back and says that his mom said yes. The mom comes over, suddenly very friendly, and checks to see if her children are behaving. The boy is not. The mother attempts to make him behave, but he doesn't. His mom tries to make him go home because he is being bad, but he refuses to get out of the pool. She kind of gives up and mumbles he is going to get time out if he doesn't get out while she crosses the alley back to her house, he ignores her. I tell him if he doesn't get out NOW, and listen to his mom, he won't ever be allowed back in the pool. He complains it's not fair and goes back to his house, while Anna and the sister continue to play in the pool.
The sister decides that she will take out some of her frustration from being bullied all day long by her brother on Emma, but splashing her in the face. I give her "the look" and quietly tell her to knock it off.
She knows I mean business and plays very nicely with the girls, except for the parts where she still views Emma as a threat/competition and refuses to play with her. *SIGH*
The girls are hungry, I feed them, including the neighbor's daughter, and they decide they want to play in my girls' room. I go over and ask the neighbor if that is OK, she says yes. She stays for awhile. The girl gets bored and goes home.
My girls decide they want to dry off so they play inside for awhile.
Phew. Good. An hour later the girls decide they want to get their swimsuits on (even though Emma just likes to play outside of the pool, occasionally getting her hands wet). While they finish getting dressed I go outside and remove the pool cover... then come back inside to see the boy in his swimming trunks, peeking inside our back door. I groan and wait a few minutes, hoping he will leave. He doesn't so i tell the girls to go out I'll be right behind them. Before Anna even gets out the back door, the boy is in MY POOL. Anna tells me, I become exasperated and go outside.
"Did you ask your mom if you could get in?"Hiding my fangs, I tell him he needs to go ask his mom if it's ok if he gets in the pool because I don't want her unaware should he get hurt.
No, he says, he'll go ask. I stop him. "NEXT TIME, you need to ask me first before you jump in my pool." He avoids eye contact. I ask him if her heard me, he says yes.
He comes back and says that his mom said yes.
He slaps Anna and his sister with a pool toy. I tell him no hitting or he will have to leave. he stops for a bit, then continues to jump in and out of pool (getting leaves and grass in the pool I just spent 20 minutes cleaning with a net), like he did when his mom was over, I tell him to knock it off. He leans over the side of the pool, letting gallons of water out, I tell him to knock it off.
Finally I have had enough. "There is one thing you are going to learn while over in my yard... If you don't follow my rules, you're out of here," I say while jabbing a thumb in the direction of his house, across the ally. He ignores me, I ask him 2 times if her heard me, he finally says yes.
He waits a few minutes, then tries to blow water at Emma through a pool noodle, I yell"Don't you dare." He dumps 3 buckets of water over Anna's head, despite her yelling stop and she screams because he got a lot of water in both of her ears, I tell him enough and before I can even finish, he starts slapping Anna on the head "trying to help her get the water out of her ears" then slaps his sister and Anna again with the pool toy, the noodle.
"OK, that's it, you're outta here."
He gives me a blank stare.
"Go on.. GET out. Go home."
He gets out and goes home.
They play for a bit and get out because they are cold. The boy comes over and asks if the sister is staying at my house because he is going somewhere with his mom and their baby brother. I say no, we are going in side.
He says, "Mom said she can stay here while we leave."
"No she can't, we- meaning me and my girls- are going inside. You have to go home now," I say to the girl, not trying to be mean so I soften my tone, though I am angry that the mother seems to think I'm her free day care, "I'm sorry, you have to go home." Grrrrrr!
Later, I go outside to put the pool cover on, and she pokes her head out her kitchen door, "Thanks for letting my kids play, were they good?"
Pfffft. "No," I say, "HE wasn't, that's why I sent him home."
Oh, she says, she asked him why he was back home and he told her he just wanted to come back home. She said she asked him if he was bad, and he lied.
I explain that he was slapping the girls with the pool toy, so I sent him home. She says nothing.
Then I decide that since I'm clearing the air, "He got in my pool without even asking. We were coming outside and he was already inside the pool". She mumbles something I can't hear over my air conditioning unit. I tell her that I told him "There is one thing you are going to learn while over in my yard... If you don't follow my rules, your out of here", she says OK, then says sorry.
I wave good bye over my shoulder and go back inside.
What really makes me angry is that her kids are running around and she has no clue where they are, or if she does see them in my yard doesn't care that they just invite themselves over... why? because again, she is overwhelmed? Not my problem. To top it off? This happened while she had a "male visitor" over at her house.
To make matters worse (if you are even still reading this rambling rant), later we go a little early to see the fireworks to make sure we get a good spot. We get down to the river front just after 9pm. We wait, and wait and wait. And what do we hear? Are you kidding me? The last concert act , The Blue Oyster Cult starts their lasp part of the show late, and still no fireworks because the fireworks don't start until River Boat Days is officially over. It's freaking quarter to 11pm, and no fireworks. We decide to follow the hundreds of people that are leaving the area and go home, very disappointed. And would you believe? They started the fireworks shortly after we left. Forgive me if I'm wrong but fireworks are really for kids and you're starting at 11pm? IDIOTS!
Not only do we not have fireworks on the 4th , like every other NORMAL town, but we wait the next day in vain, for almost 2 hours.
The next day... the neighbor's daughter invites herself over just minutes after we get outside, and immediately jumps on a swing. *2 and half SIGHS, while noticing her mother isn't paying attention that her kid is in my yard, and deciding that I need to nip this ALL in the bud because I refuse to be free day care, especially to someone who has so openly despised me*
"You're going to have to go home."
"Why?"
Choosing my words carefully, I say, "Because I don't want you guys over here today [as in: because I am very tired and would like to spend my day not having to discipline someone else's kids]."
Still refusing to get off the swing," WHY?"
"Because I said so, that's why," I say, exasperated.
"Well, we were going to play in our (baby) pool, ANYWAY," she says in a snotty voice, while walking away.
"Good for you. Bye."
She must have told her mother what I said because later last night they came over to ask what John and I were doing to our pool ( adding shock), and the mother called them back over immediately. I hope she got the message because though I'm nice, I don't let people walk all over me. Not anymore. Why? Because people suck, says the pessimist.
It's so irritating to me, and the reason is that we went through something similar when Anna was a toddler. There is a girl that lives a few houses down that was 3 or 4 years older than Anna, and she didn't seem to have any friends. So we had a really small pool and she would see Anna and I playing in it , then show up minutes later at my back yard, slowly creeping towards the pool while asking me questions... eventually getting in the pool without asking. Her mother would say to me, "OH, I noticed she was in your pool..." and I would say, yeah she just showed up in her swim suit and just jumped right in. "oh, she invited herself over," she would laugh,"She does that all the time."
Yeah, well... you might want to do something about that, I mean sheesh! Do you even care where you child is? Once, she invited herself over to play with Anna, and her father, who was supposed to be watching her while his wife was out of town... just drove off and left her at my house without even asking me. He didn't even acknowledge that she was in my yard as he drove by my yard , through the alley! NICE.
If you are going to try to shove your kids off on other people so you can have a break? Please do us all a favor and don't bother to procreate anymore.
OK, rant over.
And now you know why my 4th of July sucked.
The end.
Monday, January 07, 2008
ha. ha. ha. *Emma-isms*
Today, just a few minutes ago:
Emma- Mom, run with me! *She shouts as she dashes off towards the kitchen*
Me- Nope, not going to run.
Emma- Why, you too many year old or sumpin? *blink-blink*
Me-
Umm... why yes, thank you for noticing. 
Thank you so very much.
Yesterday:
John- Ummmm... what 'cha got there Em?
Emma- BOOBS!
I don't know what is more wrong... the fact that I posted this, or the fact that we all found this hilarious. First date fodder, folks. That's all I'm going to say about that.
Emma- Mom, run with me! *She shouts as she dashes off towards the kitchen*
Me- Nope, not going to run.
Emma- Why, you too many year old or sumpin? *blink-blink*
Me-
Umm... why yes, thank you for noticing. Thank you so very much.Yesterday:
John- Ummmm... what 'cha got there Em?
Emma- BOOBS!
I don't know what is more wrong... the fact that I posted this, or the fact that we all found this hilarious. First date fodder, folks. That's all I'm going to say about that.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Have you ever had a friend...
That hurt you so much that you didn't want to talk to them ever again?
I had a friend (who lives 2000 miles away, and that I have been friends with for over 10 years) that had been having marital problems for over 6 years. There have been many, many times that we talked on the phone for hours before and after she started having problems. We have been such good friends that we at times have called each other best friend, and there have been times when we fought and didn't speak for 11 months.
Our relationship was very honest and we could talk about anything. We laughed and cried, we fought, we complained and bitched about our lives and all of that was OK. It was better than OK, she has been as close of a friend as my husband at times.
Over the last year, when her marriage was really in crisis, I had spent hours- willingly because I loved her- on the phone talking about her problems, supporting her decisions, giving advice when she asked. I had spent hours talking and consoling, and at times forgotten to make dinner for my kids (until Anna said she was starving). I spent hours telling my kids "not now I'm on the phone" because my friend lived so far away and was so busy working extra ours to save money for her impending separation, so I talked to her whenever she needed. She was so busy that the only time she ever seemed to call me was when she was driving somewhere.
Then one day, she told me that they had worked things out. Though I still worried about her, I was happy that she was happy and supported her decision because it's her life. Suddenly I was told that she was trying to cut out all the negative people in her life, and I noticed that she usually told me this shortly after I did our usual complaining that we do about things that are annoying us at the time... then she would tell me she was lost and had to get directions, or had another call, and that she would call me back.
And she never did.
This happened once, and though I was hurt, I thought"she is really busy, she'll call me back when she has a chance."
It happened a second time and I said to myself, "That is a weird coincidence. Hmmm, not sure what to think about that."
It happened a third time... so I stopped taking her calls when she finally called me back 3 weeks later.
That was almost 4 months ago, and she stopped calling after I decided not to send her daughter anything for her birthday. I figured she had realized that I was hurt and upset, then got mad that I didn't send her daughter anything. I figured our friendship was pretty much over since she thought I was all of a sudden to negative and she was cutting all of US out of her life.
I told my husband that I had a feeling that she would be calling the next time she needed something. Sure enough, she started calling again.
My problem besides the obvious is that I felt like we have been friends for so many years and the fact that now our friendship arrangement was no longer suitable to her, it was almost like my husband had suddenly told me that he couldn't stand the way I breathe. It hurt me deeply that we have been such close friends over the years that we accepted each others flaws, mourned with each other and even fought like sisters.
And then one day she tells me in so many words that I can't be in her life anymore because what I have offered her over the years (and she had offered back exactly) isn't good enough anymore. I'm too negative suddenly , when I haven't changed the way I have interacted with her as a friend. I'm not good enough.
The problem is that I don't even know if she understands what she has done. Over the years I have overlooked her shortcomings (and I wont list them since I don't know if she reads this blog anymore), and she has over looked mine. Now that her life was back in order and her husband wanted her again, I was no longer needed. It hurt me so much that I couldn't even talk to her about it.
But why talk to someone who obviously doesn't like or even love you anymore? Why waste my energy on someone who obviously feels like I'm inadequate, why put myself through that anymore?
Now, she is calling me again, just like I thought she would. Her husband has changed his mind and is wanting a divorce again, and now since I don't answer her calls- she sending me emails. She is telling people finally that they are separating, when before I was only one of 3 people that knew that her marriage was on the rocks. It's final now and she is sending out emails saying she is going to focus on herself and travel to see friends out of state.
Though I feel bad for her on a basic level, I have been so hurt that anger isn't even an issue anymore,I just don't care.
I feel like she dumped me and now that her dance card is empty, she wants me back to fill the void for her. On some level, I still love her as a friend and though we worked hard to over come our past arguments, I feel as though she attacked my character and told me I wasn't good enough.
If you know me even a little, I am a bit of a dork in so many ways, including social situations. I tend to lash out at people I don't very well if they anger me. The people that I know well and love... if they hurt me I tend to recede and become a hermit. I duck and cover. I know this has a lot to do with my childhood and not being able to have friends, to go out and socialize like a normal teen because I was pretty much locked up at home.
That's why I love blogging. I can socialize and met people, and in a way it's safer that way, but very sad.
I often think and wonder what is wrong with me that I cannot seem to make decent friends in real life, and ask my husband, "Isn't the common denominator me? Either I am attracting the wrong kind of friend because I put out a vibe that people can treat me like crap, or I am socially inept." I often ask my husband, "Am I over reacting?" and he will answer me honestly, and most of the time he will tell me no, that I am not overreacting.
Sometimes he does. And I get pissed. LOL! But I know he is right. Never once during all of this has he told me that I am overreacting.
Anyway, I sound like my friend. We are separating and I am boohooing to you guys. The only difference is that I am neglecting you guys because of NaNoWriMo. :)
BTW, please don't take it personally, I assure you that once I finish this stupid first draft that I will be back laughing with you, heckling you, and just generally being "all up in your business". I haven't visited but a few blogs because writers block is so depressing that even writing comments is mentally crippling. Sad? YES! Self inflicted? Absolutely. Lame? Probably.
Forgive me? Please?
Thanks for listening to me whine about the person who I used to consider my best friend... I feel bad for her , I really do. I just don't know if I am willing to let her kick me in the
I had a friend (who lives 2000 miles away, and that I have been friends with for over 10 years) that had been having marital problems for over 6 years. There have been many, many times that we talked on the phone for hours before and after she started having problems. We have been such good friends that we at times have called each other best friend, and there have been times when we fought and didn't speak for 11 months.
Our relationship was very honest and we could talk about anything. We laughed and cried, we fought, we complained and bitched about our lives and all of that was OK. It was better than OK, she has been as close of a friend as my husband at times.
Over the last year, when her marriage was really in crisis, I had spent hours- willingly because I loved her- on the phone talking about her problems, supporting her decisions, giving advice when she asked. I had spent hours talking and consoling, and at times forgotten to make dinner for my kids (until Anna said she was starving). I spent hours telling my kids "not now I'm on the phone" because my friend lived so far away and was so busy working extra ours to save money for her impending separation, so I talked to her whenever she needed. She was so busy that the only time she ever seemed to call me was when she was driving somewhere.
Then one day, she told me that they had worked things out. Though I still worried about her, I was happy that she was happy and supported her decision because it's her life. Suddenly I was told that she was trying to cut out all the negative people in her life, and I noticed that she usually told me this shortly after I did our usual complaining that we do about things that are annoying us at the time... then she would tell me she was lost and had to get directions, or had another call, and that she would call me back.
And she never did.
This happened once, and though I was hurt, I thought"she is really busy, she'll call me back when she has a chance."
It happened a second time and I said to myself, "That is a weird coincidence. Hmmm, not sure what to think about that."
It happened a third time... so I stopped taking her calls when she finally called me back 3 weeks later.
That was almost 4 months ago, and she stopped calling after I decided not to send her daughter anything for her birthday. I figured she had realized that I was hurt and upset, then got mad that I didn't send her daughter anything. I figured our friendship was pretty much over since she thought I was all of a sudden to negative and she was cutting all of US out of her life.
I told my husband that I had a feeling that she would be calling the next time she needed something. Sure enough, she started calling again.
My problem besides the obvious is that I felt like we have been friends for so many years and the fact that now our friendship arrangement was no longer suitable to her, it was almost like my husband had suddenly told me that he couldn't stand the way I breathe. It hurt me deeply that we have been such close friends over the years that we accepted each others flaws, mourned with each other and even fought like sisters.
And then one day she tells me in so many words that I can't be in her life anymore because what I have offered her over the years (and she had offered back exactly) isn't good enough anymore. I'm too negative suddenly , when I haven't changed the way I have interacted with her as a friend. I'm not good enough.
The problem is that I don't even know if she understands what she has done. Over the years I have overlooked her shortcomings (and I wont list them since I don't know if she reads this blog anymore), and she has over looked mine. Now that her life was back in order and her husband wanted her again, I was no longer needed. It hurt me so much that I couldn't even talk to her about it.
But why talk to someone who obviously doesn't like or even love you anymore? Why waste my energy on someone who obviously feels like I'm inadequate, why put myself through that anymore?
Now, she is calling me again, just like I thought she would. Her husband has changed his mind and is wanting a divorce again, and now since I don't answer her calls- she sending me emails. She is telling people finally that they are separating, when before I was only one of 3 people that knew that her marriage was on the rocks. It's final now and she is sending out emails saying she is going to focus on herself and travel to see friends out of state.
Though I feel bad for her on a basic level, I have been so hurt that anger isn't even an issue anymore,I just don't care.
I feel like she dumped me and now that her dance card is empty, she wants me back to fill the void for her. On some level, I still love her as a friend and though we worked hard to over come our past arguments, I feel as though she attacked my character and told me I wasn't good enough.
If you know me even a little, I am a bit of a dork in so many ways, including social situations. I tend to lash out at people I don't very well if they anger me. The people that I know well and love... if they hurt me I tend to recede and become a hermit. I duck and cover. I know this has a lot to do with my childhood and not being able to have friends, to go out and socialize like a normal teen because I was pretty much locked up at home.
That's why I love blogging. I can socialize and met people, and in a way it's safer that way, but very sad.
I often think and wonder what is wrong with me that I cannot seem to make decent friends in real life, and ask my husband, "Isn't the common denominator me? Either I am attracting the wrong kind of friend because I put out a vibe that people can treat me like crap, or I am socially inept." I often ask my husband, "Am I over reacting?" and he will answer me honestly, and most of the time he will tell me no, that I am not overreacting.
Sometimes he does. And I get pissed. LOL! But I know he is right. Never once during all of this has he told me that I am overreacting.
Anyway, I sound like my friend. We are separating and I am boohooing to you guys. The only difference is that I am neglecting you guys because of NaNoWriMo. :)
BTW, please don't take it personally, I assure you that once I finish this stupid first draft that I will be back laughing with you, heckling you, and just generally being "all up in your business". I haven't visited but a few blogs because writers block is so depressing that even writing comments is mentally crippling. Sad? YES! Self inflicted? Absolutely. Lame? Probably.
Forgive me? Please?
Thanks for listening to me whine about the person who I used to consider my best friend... I feel bad for her , I really do. I just don't know if I am willing to let her kick me in the
Monday, October 15, 2007
Manic Monday- Bat, and an Anna-ism
This week's Manic Monday is brought to you by the word bat and it's wonderful host, Mo of course!
Anna developed a sore throat on Friday and by Saturday she was sporting a lovely fever of 102.8. Saturday Anna saw the doctor and was given a prescription for Strep throat. Friday, Saturday AND Sunday were filled with throat-swollen whining, sleepy complaints and prickly attitudes given over maliciously batted eyelashes.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday were filled with attempts by me to bat away frustration at said whining, complaints, attitudes, and several time outs. By yesterday evening I was a little batty and took my frustrations out on several loads of laundry and the answer sheet to my 30 hour course for my LVN/LPN continuing education.
Last night as I put Anna to bed, she said her nightly prayers.
"Jesus, I'm sorry for complaining about... EVERYTHING. Amen."
Amen indeed.
Anna developed a sore throat on Friday and by Saturday she was sporting a lovely fever of 102.8. Saturday Anna saw the doctor and was given a prescription for Strep throat. Friday, Saturday AND Sunday were filled with throat-swollen whining, sleepy complaints and prickly attitudes given over maliciously batted eyelashes.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday were filled with attempts by me to bat away frustration at said whining, complaints, attitudes, and several time outs. By yesterday evening I was a little batty and took my frustrations out on several loads of laundry and the answer sheet to my 30 hour course for my LVN/LPN continuing education.
Last night as I put Anna to bed, she said her nightly prayers.
"Jesus, I'm sorry for complaining about... EVERYTHING. Amen."
Amen indeed.
Friday, September 28, 2007
What to do when your 6 year old child says "I hate you"
I have always known that Anna is a bit ahead of the curve in maturity and brain cells. Bearing that in mind I have also always known that eventually and inevitably the day would come when she said those dreaded words.
I hate you.
I wasn't expecting the day to be today, and I wasn't expecting her to be the ripe age of 6 1/2. I certainly did expect those words to be hurled at me from the throws of prepubescence, and I was even more certain that they would pop up during some premenstrual debacle.
Those are words that I know well. Too well. I cannot tell you how many times those words were said to me in anger as a child. I think what hurt the most is when those words were handed to me with apathy.
Anna said that she hated me, then told me that everything was my fault... and after that I can honestly say that I don't remember much. I told her she was to stay in her room and not come out until it was clean and that I did not want to talk to her.
I went down stairs in a haze. I walked in circles until I was crushed under the pressure and weight of those 3 words. I cried. I can honestly say that it grieves me.
So I did what I always do when furious or hurt, I cleaned. After I worked offf a little grief I decided to google 'what to do when your 6 year old child says "I hate you"'. I read various sites that stated that at this age they are not aware of the meaning of those words and say them because they are angry, but don't mean them. Sure, I know that younger children say these things to their parents, and I know that hypothetically they don't mean it. You can't say that about Anna. She's very intelligent. Though I know she may not realize the consequences of this act I can tell you that she meant them with every fiber, even for a brief moment.
This site said:
Even though I agree with the last part of the statement above, I do not feel it is OK to "just let it go". Not at Anna's age anyway, no matter how literal she is she is also very logical and emotionally driven. I feel at this age is entirely appropriate for Anna to understand the kind of fallout that can occur in this situation. I sat at my computer thinking about what I would say to her. On one hand I could gloss it over " and not dwell on it, as the article above insinuates, as well as all of the other sites I visited. On another I could explain how horrendously this has affected me at the risk of making her feel guilty, in order for her to understand how devastating this can be for a loved one; and for her to understand that she must never do this again.
Then I read this blog post... THANK GOD. Finally something that addresses the state of the mature child and what it means to be 6 years old. Shauna, the blog author quotes from a book that helped her immensely :
Anna eventually came downstairs about an hour after the incident and apologized for saying those words and that she didn't mean them anymore. I sat there with my mouth open for a moment, trying to compose my thoughts. She didn't mean it anymore.
I explained to her that it hurts me that she felt that way at all, even if it was just for a moment. I said that hate was a very strong word, and though I was glad she was sorry , it's hard to take that word back. I also said that hate is the strongest negative word you can say to someone you love, and when you say it- even though you will probably be sorry later- it stays with a person.
I explained that though I have been angry with her many times, I have never hated her and would never EVER say that to her. I explained that telling someone that you hate them and that you wish that they had never been born are the worst things yo could say to someone you love or care about. I told her that my mother told me those things more times than I can remember, and it still hurts to this day.
I explained that those words will stay with me and in my heart forever... and that the reason why I was telling her this was for her to understand and learn from this situation.
I want her to learn that it's NEVER OK to tell someone you hate them, especially not the people you love. That it's OK to tell me she is angry with me, and I will acknowledge her feelings. It's OK to express anger, hurt and frustration. I respect her as a person, I respect her feelings.
I explained all of this and the fact that those words were unacceptable. She sobbed on my shoulder. We hugged and I told her I loved her, and she held on to me for what seemed like dear life for over 10 minutes.
My heart hurts a little less and I am hoping that over time that abyss will close and heal itself to the tiniest of fractures.
I know the joys will out number the sorrows. I have faith that the brilliance of her love and understanding will fill those little cracks with so much light that they will be unseen to the naked eye. Hopefully no one will know they are there but me.
I hate you.
I wasn't expecting the day to be today, and I wasn't expecting her to be the ripe age of 6 1/2. I certainly did expect those words to be hurled at me from the throws of prepubescence, and I was even more certain that they would pop up during some premenstrual debacle.
Those are words that I know well. Too well. I cannot tell you how many times those words were said to me in anger as a child. I think what hurt the most is when those words were handed to me with apathy.
Anna said that she hated me, then told me that everything was my fault... and after that I can honestly say that I don't remember much. I told her she was to stay in her room and not come out until it was clean and that I did not want to talk to her.
I went down stairs in a haze. I walked in circles until I was crushed under the pressure and weight of those 3 words. I cried. I can honestly say that it grieves me.
So I did what I always do when furious or hurt, I cleaned. After I worked offf a little grief I decided to google 'what to do when your 6 year old child says "I hate you"'. I read various sites that stated that at this age they are not aware of the meaning of those words and say them because they are angry, but don't mean them. Sure, I know that younger children say these things to their parents, and I know that hypothetically they don't mean it. You can't say that about Anna. She's very intelligent. Though I know she may not realize the consequences of this act I can tell you that she meant them with every fiber, even for a brief moment.
This site said:
The unanimous chorus from experts: Don't take it personally. Kids say these things when they're frustrated or angry. It doesn't mean you're a bad parent. Of course, distancing yourself when your kid seems to be dissing your mothering skills isn't easy, but letting your child think that you're all too happy to get rid of him -- or worse, that you hate him, too -- isn't okay. Since the under-9 set are literal thinkers, they won't detect the reverse psychology at work, and you might end up undermining your child's trust...
...Easier said than done, of course, but if you're upset, wait until you've calmed down to say anything. "When you get emotional, you lose 50 IQ points," says Ray Levy. "But later on you can say, 'It hurts my feelings when you tell me you hate me.' Usually when kids are calm, they're pretty remorseful."
Even though I agree with the last part of the statement above, I do not feel it is OK to "just let it go". Not at Anna's age anyway, no matter how literal she is she is also very logical and emotionally driven. I feel at this age is entirely appropriate for Anna to understand the kind of fallout that can occur in this situation. I sat at my computer thinking about what I would say to her. On one hand I could gloss it over " and not dwell on it, as the article above insinuates, as well as all of the other sites I visited. On another I could explain how horrendously this has affected me at the risk of making her feel guilty, in order for her to understand how devastating this can be for a loved one; and for her to understand that she must never do this again.
Then I read this blog post... THANK GOD. Finally something that addresses the state of the mature child and what it means to be 6 years old. Shauna, the blog author quotes from a book that helped her immensely :
The six-year-old is a complex child, entirely different from the five-year-old.Though many of the changes are for the good -- Six is growing more mature, more independent, more daring and adventurous -- this is not necessarily an easy time for the little girl or boy. Relationships with mothers are troubled -- most of the time Six adores mother, but whenever things go wrong, it's her fault. It used to be, at Five, that she was the center of the child's universe; now, the child is the center of his own universe.Yes, exactly. OK. I value my children's opinions. I expect them to be able to tell me what that think and feel. All I'm asking is for a little courtesy. I want so much for my kids to have what I didn't which is an opinion... but I need to be able to draw the line at hurt and disrespect , and I need to be able to tell them that it's not OK.
Anna eventually came downstairs about an hour after the incident and apologized for saying those words and that she didn't mean them anymore. I sat there with my mouth open for a moment, trying to compose my thoughts. She didn't mean it anymore.
I explained to her that it hurts me that she felt that way at all, even if it was just for a moment. I said that hate was a very strong word, and though I was glad she was sorry , it's hard to take that word back. I also said that hate is the strongest negative word you can say to someone you love, and when you say it- even though you will probably be sorry later- it stays with a person.
I explained that though I have been angry with her many times, I have never hated her and would never EVER say that to her. I explained that telling someone that you hate them and that you wish that they had never been born are the worst things yo could say to someone you love or care about. I told her that my mother told me those things more times than I can remember, and it still hurts to this day.
I explained that those words will stay with me and in my heart forever... and that the reason why I was telling her this was for her to understand and learn from this situation.
I want her to learn that it's NEVER OK to tell someone you hate them, especially not the people you love. That it's OK to tell me she is angry with me, and I will acknowledge her feelings. It's OK to express anger, hurt and frustration. I respect her as a person, I respect her feelings.
I explained all of this and the fact that those words were unacceptable. She sobbed on my shoulder. We hugged and I told her I loved her, and she held on to me for what seemed like dear life for over 10 minutes.
My heart hurts a little less and I am hoping that over time that abyss will close and heal itself to the tiniest of fractures.
I know the joys will out number the sorrows. I have faith that the brilliance of her love and understanding will fill those little cracks with so much light that they will be unseen to the naked eye. Hopefully no one will know they are there but me.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
The Layered Meme
By the way, I just installed the peek-a-boo post format. Click "read more"... well, to read more!
On the outside:
Name: Mary
Birth Date: October 4, 1969
Current Status: married (18 years)
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Dark Brown and gray ;)
On the inside:
My Heritage: Half Mexican, half Caucasian (Scottish maiden name). My great grandmother was from the south and was a bigot, so half of me hates pinatas. Or I severely dislike them at last half of the time.
My Fear: Losing my children. That one day my husband will come to his senses.
My weaknesses: Chocolate, coffee (preferably Starbucks or Columbian roast but any old coffee will do, except for instant)
My Perfect Pizza: Deep dish pizza with mushrooms, artichoke hearts and bacon.
Yesterday, today and tomorrow:
My thoughts first waking up: "Who put this fur coat on my tongue?"My bedtime: Somewhere between midnight and 2 am usually. I love the night life. I love to boo-gie.
My most missed memory: I can't remember.
I think it has something to do with being a size 6-7 once upon a time.My pick:
Pepsi or Coke: Pepsi.Single or group dates: It doesn't matter, I don't have a baby sitter I trust yet. I'm paranoid like that.
Adidas or Nike: Nike
Tea or Nestea: Tea
Chocolate or Vanilla: Chocolate.
Cappuccino or Coffee: Cappuccinno
Do you:
Smoke: No.Curse: Ummm... I have been known to enjoy the odd expletive...
Take a shower: Every stinkin' day.
Have a crush: Only on unattainable celebs. Johnny Depp... call me!
Think you’ve been in love: Oh yeah. My very first love, Elvis. Second, chocolate. And last but not least, The Misu.
Go to school: Not right now, I'm still thinking about what i want to be when I grow up.
Want to get married: Married, been there- done that... never again. This one is for keeps.
Believe in yourself: Yes!
Think you’re a health freak:I was never really a health freak. My love for grease and chocolate took care of that.
In the past:
Drank alcohol: I was in the Navy...Gone to the mall: Too much
Been on stage: Yes.
Eaten sushi: One of my favorite things!
Dyed your hair: Yes, I gave up though.
Have you ever:
Played a stripping game: Nope.Changed who you were to fit in: In high school.. and I'm not proud of it. I learned my lesson before it was too late though.
Done something your kids will never know about (at least until they are adults): *This an addition from me (mert), just 'cause it's an interesting question.* Yes, enjoyed the company of Mary Jane... and had a very "good" first date with their dad.
Age you're hoping:
Get married: see aboveTake your dream vacation: (mert add) Good grief, I hope it's before we retire. Italy is my dream vacation, an Alaskan Cruise is John's.
In a guy:
Best eye colour: Doesn't matterBest hair colour: " "
Short hair or long hair: Short(er)
Best attribute: (mert add) smile and sense of humor.
What were you doing:
A minute ago: Talking Emma out of the curtains and arguing whether or not Monsters Inc. is really a "scare-wy" movie.Hour ago: Drinking. Lots. Of. Coffee.
Month ago: Flying back home after seeing my sis and bro!
Year ago: Thinking about giving up my beagle puppy because she scared Anna.
Finish the sentences:
I love: My family, art, books, blogging...I feel: Blessed
I hate: The fact that I procrastinate due to my fear of failure
I hide: behind humor too much sometimes
I miss: My step dad (who I consider my real dad, he raised me from the age of 5 or 6)
I need: to lose another 44 lbs LOL!
I tag:
Ladies: participate if you wanna, no pressure. I tag anyone else who wants to play, just leave me a comment so I know to check your out too! Maggie
Miss Charming and Delightful
Virginia
Michelle
crse
Monday, September 10, 2007
And there you have it. (MIL caa-caa)
OK y'all... I just wanted to let you know that I REALLY appreciate all your kind words about the monster-in-law. ;D Now on to the news...
This last Sunday I told John that the fact that She saw fit to talk about this to John on Wednesday AT WORK, and the fact that I had yet to confront her on this whole slapping issue... well, I felt that by me saying nothing in my defense was probably to her most likely an admission of guilt. I also told John that we needed to find a baby sitter ASAP then call the MIL to let her know that we wanted to talk to her.
After talking about it again tonight I realized that I needed to take the bull by the horns. So I called her :
Well folks, it looks like she has sealed the deal. She is refusing to be reasonable about this. I'm pretty sure that is not at all fixable. The fact that she continues to blame everyone else including Anna, and refusing to take any responsibility...
She's nuts. Anyway, at least I said a little of what I needed to say. I was so amped that I was a bit out of breathI intend on sending the copy of car keys and her house key back to her in the mail, with a letter stating that she knows our terms and conditions. No talk- no grandkids, and that "the ball is in her court".
Oh, and that if she could stop being unprofessional and inappropriate and refrain from discussing family matters in the work place, that would be just peachy.
This last Sunday I told John that the fact that She saw fit to talk about this to John on Wednesday AT WORK, and the fact that I had yet to confront her on this whole slapping issue... well, I felt that by me saying nothing in my defense was probably to her most likely an admission of guilt. I also told John that we needed to find a baby sitter ASAP then call the MIL to let her know that we wanted to talk to her.
After talking about it again tonight I realized that I needed to take the bull by the horns. So I called her :
This is Mary, I need to know when it would be a good time so I can hire a sitter for us to come over so we can talk.
Well, we will be working 10 hour days for the next two weeks...
Well, we need to sit down and talk- me , you and John. We also need to talk because you accused me of slapping you and I DID NOT.
Yes you DID.
No, I may have pushed your hand away roughly, but I did NOT slap you, and I have NEVER slapped you out of anger. Well, I really don't want to discuss this over the phone, so that is why we need to sit down and have a talk before you ever see the girls again.
*silence* ...What exactly is this talk about, before I agree to do this...?
Oh, lets see... Our "rules", slapping, the way you treat Anna...
That sounds like a bunch of accusations to me... not a "talk"...
Don't EVEN get me started about accusations! You seem to feel that it's OK to tell people I have slapped you and I'm NOT OK with that.
Well, it sounds like you have already decided...
NO, YOU are the one who hasn't bothered to see your granddaughters in 5 weeks...
No, Anna was supposed to be the one deciding when she was ready to see me!
Which is true, but the monster-in-law didn't know about this until last Wednesday when she decided it was appropriate to discuss all of this at the hospital that she and John work at. John and I had decided that Anna could tell us when she was ready to see the MIL, but since the MIL had made no attempt to fix things, we've haven't told the MIL anything up until that point. So she is once again trying to blame someone else for her mistakes... and she chooses to put responsibility on the 6 year old?
NO. YOU should have had your BUTT over here BEGGING for forgiveness the day after, bearing- (gifts, I said but she interrupted me)
Give me a fuc-! CLICK!
Well folks, it looks like she has sealed the deal. She is refusing to be reasonable about this. I'm pretty sure that is not at all fixable. The fact that she continues to blame everyone else including Anna, and refusing to take any responsibility...
She's nuts. Anyway, at least I said a little of what I needed to say. I was so amped that I was a bit out of breathI intend on sending the copy of car keys and her house key back to her in the mail, with a letter stating that she knows our terms and conditions. No talk- no grandkids, and that "the ball is in her court".
Oh, and that if she could stop being unprofessional and inappropriate and refrain from discussing family matters in the work place, that would be just peachy.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Devils and angels on my shoulder, Monkeys on my back
Yesterday I had a talk with Anna because our day was rolling downhill very quickly. I sat Anna down and told her that I am very tired of having to nag her about the very same things every day, and that I get very grumpy because I have to say the same things every day. BUT then I realized that it was one particular incident that I was really annoyed with, and the other things that may or may not grate my nerves on a less trying day were piling up on my very last nerve.
It's called guilt, right?
I found her upstairs and apologized for being so cranky. I explained what had happened- which was that I was really annoyed with the first thing, then everything else really got on my nerves. It wasn't her fault that I was so grumpy, and that I realized I was really just still upset from the first incident.
I explained that I understand that it can be frustrating because we have so many rules, but then I asked her:
"Don't you ever get that feeling or hear that little voice that tells you 'you better not do that!'?"
"Well, sometimes it's like in those TV shows where you have a good angel on on shoulder and a bad one on the other... and one of the says 'You should-', and that's all I hear." She smiles at me, obviously happy with herself for painting such a vivid example of the trials of a 6 year old.
To which I sat and stared in disbelief, but with a wry smile... and then I said, "Come on, give me a break... somebody's been watching too many goofy kid's shows. Look, you can't tell me that you don't listen to that voice inside of you that tells you right from wrong. We all have that voice, even mom and dad. And - if you don't like having a grumpy mommy then you have to help me out by following the rules so that I don't have to get mad because I have to repeat the same rules everyday."
I rounded the conversation of by telling her that if you love someone, you worry if whether or not you have hurt their feelings- and that was why I had come up to talk to her. Also though, you worry if you are doing the same wrong things over and over and are making them upset.
Sometimes I tell John that I am worried that I am like my mother, and in the past he has helped me realize that the crucial difference between my mother and I is the fact that I even care whether or not my children are hurting... that and I don't beat the crud out of them.
I do care about my girls and I DO want them to have a better childhood than me, and on the days when I wonder if I am like that monster even just a little bit... well, I work that much harder at knocking the devil off my shoulder and being accountable.
One day I hope I can share with my daughters that it wasn't all about me teaching them about life. They have taught me a thing or two. Each of us have our angels and devils perched on our shoulders, I guess it's all in how we handle them, literally.
It's called guilt, right?
I found her upstairs and apologized for being so cranky. I explained what had happened- which was that I was really annoyed with the first thing, then everything else really got on my nerves. It wasn't her fault that I was so grumpy, and that I realized I was really just still upset from the first incident.
I explained that I understand that it can be frustrating because we have so many rules, but then I asked her:
"Don't you ever get that feeling or hear that little voice that tells you 'you better not do that!'?"
"Well, sometimes it's like in those TV shows where you have a good angel on on shoulder and a bad one on the other... and one of the says 'You should-', and that's all I hear." She smiles at me, obviously happy with herself for painting such a vivid example of the trials of a 6 year old.
To which I sat and stared in disbelief, but with a wry smile... and then I said, "Come on, give me a break... somebody's been watching too many goofy kid's shows. Look, you can't tell me that you don't listen to that voice inside of you that tells you right from wrong. We all have that voice, even mom and dad. And - if you don't like having a grumpy mommy then you have to help me out by following the rules so that I don't have to get mad because I have to repeat the same rules everyday."
I rounded the conversation of by telling her that if you love someone, you worry if whether or not you have hurt their feelings- and that was why I had come up to talk to her. Also though, you worry if you are doing the same wrong things over and over and are making them upset.
Sometimes I tell John that I am worried that I am like my mother, and in the past he has helped me realize that the crucial difference between my mother and I is the fact that I even care whether or not my children are hurting... that and I don't beat the crud out of them.
I do care about my girls and I DO want them to have a better childhood than me, and on the days when I wonder if I am like that monster even just a little bit... well, I work that much harder at knocking the devil off my shoulder and being accountable.
One day I hope I can share with my daughters that it wasn't all about me teaching them about life. They have taught me a thing or two. Each of us have our angels and devils perched on our shoulders, I guess it's all in how we handle them, literally.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Me yesterday: Nobody gets breakfast until mommy's coffee starts to brew. *yawn*
John: Oh, is that right?
Me: Oh yeee-ahhhh, I have priorities, ya know. This trip (to Reno August 16th! yeeehaw!) should be interesting because I don't know how or when when I will reach caffination each day. *Thinks to self about the possibility of sucking on a tea bag each morning, or snorting coffee grounds if need be*
John nods in agreement but then says: Caffination? I don't even know what that is. Is that even a word?
John: Oh, is that right?
Me: Oh yeee-ahhhh, I have priorities, ya know. This trip (to Reno August 16th! yeeehaw!) should be interesting because I don't know how or when when I will reach caffination each day. *Thinks to self about the possibility of sucking on a tea bag each morning, or snorting coffee grounds if need be*
John nods in agreement but then says: Caffination? I don't even know what that is. Is that even a word?
Me: Sheeeee-yah *rolls eyes*, it's a word-
Caffination- the moment in which caffeine enters one's bloodstream.
Caffination- the moment in which caffeine enters one's bloodstream.
OR
The moment in which one reaches their "Coffee Zen".
The moment in which one reaches their "Coffee Zen".
John: *snort and a smirk* Ummmmhmmmm....
Hello, my name is Mary... and I'm a Caff head.
Hello, my name is Mary... and I'm a Caff head.
Friday, July 20, 2007
I've got a dirty little secret, and my dilemma
OK, it's not dirty, but it's not what you would expect from a mommy blogger. Bear with me, folks.
About 4 days ago, my younger brother called me with an idea. Since he and I are flying out to see our sister in less than a month and he will be meeting Marci face to face for the first time, Ben thought that to commemorate the moment, we could all get a tattoo. Marci already has 2, and Ben has at least 5 I think... but me? None. That's not to say that I don't have markings. I have plenty of marks on me but none of them are pretty.
My husband became angry very quickly, he is against tattoos, you see. He thought it was very inappropriate for my younger brother to suggest something like this, and he was angry that I would even tell Ben that I would consider it- despite knowing that he doesn't like them. Later he asked me what kind of example would I be setting for our children, which I really took offense to.
This may sound a bit romantic but since watching Miami Ink (which I love), I have learned that usually there is a reason behind a tattoo. That's not to say that people don't get a tattoo on a whim, or because they saw something pretty they liked. Watching the show and being an artist, I began to appreciate the time, effort and artistic skill these guys put into their work. Almost every client they have wants a tattoo for a reason, usually as a memorial to a lost loved one or to signify an experience that they had that changed their life forever.
And... to be quite honest, I have always wanted a tattoo but I could never think of reason good enough to get one. Most importantly though, I didn't want my husband to think less of me.
Over it's [almost] 38 years, my body has endured marking. I have so many scars that I have stopped counting; each and every scar has a story and a distinct memory attached to it. Some of the memories are horrible, and others bearable.
The marks on my body are not who I am as a person. They don't define me, and they certainly are not boundary markers of who I am and who I could or couldn't be. They simply tell a story of life as it is , and has been up until today.
I have many, many cat scratch scars from the 8 cats that I have owned since being married 18 years ago. Whether kittens or adult cats, all of my cats have given me at least one battle scar.
I have a small scar between my eyebrows from the time I managed to pull the high jump bar down on myself in track. As I jumped over, my foot hooked itself on the bar and eventually the bar came crashing down on my brow, the sheer force of the bar colliding with my skull caused my skin to split open. This scar brings up old resentments because I had finally found something that I loved but my mother refused to let me continue because I had hurt myself. This from the person who hurt me and my body on an almost daily basis... it doesn't make sense to me.
When I feel the pebble that is embedded in my skin just beneath a layer of barely perceptible scar tissue, I don't think of fear so much as a choice to live no matter what the consequences would be. I can recall jumping from that car with clarity as if it had happened yesterday, and though I felt great fear, I decided that jumping from a speeding car would ultimately save my life. My thoughts weren't completely coherent, but when I look back on that day, and on the days that my elbow hurts- in a weird way I look back with an odd fondness. This little pebble of mine reminds me on the days when I don't want to get out of bed that I am a braver human being than I give myself credit for.
I have a mark on my neck... it's fading still but if you look you can see it. Four years ago I had a very large benign mass removed with the right side of my thyroid. I feared for my life while I waited for the results from the preliminary biopsy, and those 2 weeks before I was told I would still have to have surgery to remove the mass was agony. I imagined the worst, that I had cancer, and that I would not live to see my 2 year old Anna grown into adulthood.
In my sk*rt post I explained that you'd "see paths my body traveled- in joy and in pain, through the marks mapped out on my thighs and belly", and I talk about "the scar on my lower belly that bore three children- 2 in life and one that was not meant to be". I also have 3 new scars : One on my right bicep, and two on my right thigh and hip from having lumps removed from body last December.
These marks were not my choosing. I didn't want any of them, and yet here they are. I've had a life time of marks placed on my body, and my life - I hope- is far from over.
After thinking for a night on what image I would want on my body forever- despite knowing that my husband was still very angry about the whole thing- the lotus flower kept coming to my mind. I told my brother and sister about the symbolism behind it and they both love the idea:
After my husband had a whole day away at work, he was able to calm down and see things from my perspective. I told him that even though he doesn't necessarily like tattoos, that I hoped that he could see that this is something that will make me happy and he could be OK with that.
As I showed him the designs I am looking at (and after I chided him for not trusting me earlier that I could pick something that was actually pretty), and after I explained the symbolism behind the lotus, he admitted that me having a tattoo cold be sexy and that he liked what it represents. ;)
Don't get me wrong, it's not set in stone yet- we are still mulling it over.
I would love, just for once, to have a mark put on my body by my own choice. I would love to be reminded daily of the spiritual pact I am making with my brother and sister, and the joy of meeting my sister again after 10 years. I would love to be able to look at this mark and remember all that I have overcome, and see the beautiful flower that I am today.
It's not that I need a tattoo to remind me of all those things, but it would make me very happy.
About 4 days ago, my younger brother called me with an idea. Since he and I are flying out to see our sister in less than a month and he will be meeting Marci face to face for the first time, Ben thought that to commemorate the moment, we could all get a tattoo. Marci already has 2, and Ben has at least 5 I think... but me? None. That's not to say that I don't have markings. I have plenty of marks on me but none of them are pretty.
My husband became angry very quickly, he is against tattoos, you see. He thought it was very inappropriate for my younger brother to suggest something like this, and he was angry that I would even tell Ben that I would consider it- despite knowing that he doesn't like them. Later he asked me what kind of example would I be setting for our children, which I really took offense to.
This may sound a bit romantic but since watching Miami Ink (which I love), I have learned that usually there is a reason behind a tattoo. That's not to say that people don't get a tattoo on a whim, or because they saw something pretty they liked. Watching the show and being an artist, I began to appreciate the time, effort and artistic skill these guys put into their work. Almost every client they have wants a tattoo for a reason, usually as a memorial to a lost loved one or to signify an experience that they had that changed their life forever.
And... to be quite honest, I have always wanted a tattoo but I could never think of reason good enough to get one. Most importantly though, I didn't want my husband to think less of me.
Over it's [almost] 38 years, my body has endured marking. I have so many scars that I have stopped counting; each and every scar has a story and a distinct memory attached to it. Some of the memories are horrible, and others bearable.
The marks on my body are not who I am as a person. They don't define me, and they certainly are not boundary markers of who I am and who I could or couldn't be. They simply tell a story of life as it is , and has been up until today.
I have many, many cat scratch scars from the 8 cats that I have owned since being married 18 years ago. Whether kittens or adult cats, all of my cats have given me at least one battle scar.
I have a small scar between my eyebrows from the time I managed to pull the high jump bar down on myself in track. As I jumped over, my foot hooked itself on the bar and eventually the bar came crashing down on my brow, the sheer force of the bar colliding with my skull caused my skin to split open. This scar brings up old resentments because I had finally found something that I loved but my mother refused to let me continue because I had hurt myself. This from the person who hurt me and my body on an almost daily basis... it doesn't make sense to me.
When I feel the pebble that is embedded in my skin just beneath a layer of barely perceptible scar tissue, I don't think of fear so much as a choice to live no matter what the consequences would be. I can recall jumping from that car with clarity as if it had happened yesterday, and though I felt great fear, I decided that jumping from a speeding car would ultimately save my life. My thoughts weren't completely coherent, but when I look back on that day, and on the days that my elbow hurts- in a weird way I look back with an odd fondness. This little pebble of mine reminds me on the days when I don't want to get out of bed that I am a braver human being than I give myself credit for.
I have a mark on my neck... it's fading still but if you look you can see it. Four years ago I had a very large benign mass removed with the right side of my thyroid. I feared for my life while I waited for the results from the preliminary biopsy, and those 2 weeks before I was told I would still have to have surgery to remove the mass was agony. I imagined the worst, that I had cancer, and that I would not live to see my 2 year old Anna grown into adulthood.
In my sk*rt post I explained that you'd "see paths my body traveled- in joy and in pain, through the marks mapped out on my thighs and belly", and I talk about "the scar on my lower belly that bore three children- 2 in life and one that was not meant to be". I also have 3 new scars : One on my right bicep, and two on my right thigh and hip from having lumps removed from body last December.
These marks were not my choosing. I didn't want any of them, and yet here they are. I've had a life time of marks placed on my body, and my life - I hope- is far from over.
After thinking for a night on what image I would want on my body forever- despite knowing that my husband was still very angry about the whole thing- the lotus flower kept coming to my mind. I told my brother and sister about the symbolism behind it and they both love the idea:
In modern times the meaning of a lotus flower tattoo ties into it's religious symbolism and meaning. Most tattoo enthusiast feel that the a lotus tattoo represent life in general. As the lotus flower grows up from the mud into a object of great beauty people also grow and change into something more beautiful . So the symbol represents the struggle of life at its most basic form.
Lotus flower tattoos are also popular for people who have gone through a hard time and are now coming out of it. Like the flower they have been at the bottom in the muddy, yucky dirty bottom of the pond but have risen above this to display an object of beauty or a life of beauty as the case might be. Thus a lotus flower tattoo or blossom can also represent a hard time in life that has been overcome.
After my husband had a whole day away at work, he was able to calm down and see things from my perspective. I told him that even though he doesn't necessarily like tattoos, that I hoped that he could see that this is something that will make me happy and he could be OK with that.
As I showed him the designs I am looking at (and after I chided him for not trusting me earlier that I could pick something that was actually pretty), and after I explained the symbolism behind the lotus, he admitted that me having a tattoo cold be sexy and that he liked what it represents. ;)
Don't get me wrong, it's not set in stone yet- we are still mulling it over.
I would love, just for once, to have a mark put on my body by my own choice. I would love to be reminded daily of the spiritual pact I am making with my brother and sister, and the joy of meeting my sister again after 10 years. I would love to be able to look at this mark and remember all that I have overcome, and see the beautiful flower that I am today.
It's not that I need a tattoo to remind me of all those things, but it would make me very happy.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Keeping the skills up over summer break- OR , You do the math
Me last night at bed time: Anna , I really want you to do some reading this week... I don't want you to forget what you learned this last year in kindergarten. We can do some math too.
Anna: Mom, I've got some math for ya...
Anna: Mom, I've got some math for ya...
Mom
+goofy
------
dufus
+goofy
------
dufus
I'm thinking somehow that this ISN'T Pass The Torch material. The hardest part is the fact that she KNOWS she is funny, so how am I not supposed to laugh? ;)
Oh my, one of my best blogging buds gave me the link to this... Maggie said"At least she didn't do this. I love Anna's sense of humor."
Oh my, one of my best blogging buds gave me the link to this... Maggie said"At least she didn't do this. I love Anna's sense of humor."
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