The Golden Time.

This is a strange time in my life.  I’ve been through a lot in my marriage.  The ugliness at the beginning of the year, the subsequent dealings that went with resolving it, the felony (HA!), the resulting house mess, the stuff going on with my oldest, the things hackingmy closest friends off at the knees, my hubby going in for surgery three days before we have to be out of this house, the loss of my familiarity, equilibrium, family, friends, church, home and comfort zone.  I know all the optimistic and realistic things about this, being a generally optimistic and realistic person.  I know that we will have a new place and a new routine.  I know that my hubby will recover and be better than before.  I know that I will eventually consider my new home, well, home.  I know that I’m not really losing my friends or family.  But it feels that way.  It feels like the end of my life.  Not all the time, just in weak moments.  I’ve mostly been stomping on any sadness or fear because I just don’t have time for it.  It is a luxury I can’t afford at this point because for all practical intents and purposes, the only human holding this whole show together is me.  I’m taking care of the hubby, comforting the kids, packing, cleaning the house, arranging things and what have you.  I’m not saying that I’m not getting any help, because I am.  It’s just that mostly, it’s just me.  I don’t have the time to mope, I don’t have the extra energy to give it.  In weak moments though, I think about it and cry just a little.  Not enough for tears to escape, just enough to well up.  I see flashes in my mind, of my oldest son playing with his cousins, both honorary and blood.  I see my SIL holding my youngest.  I see my friends while we hang out on the deck and laugh about everything.  I see my family all lined up in a row at church.  I see the baptism of both my babies at the gentle, loving hands of my pastors.  I see my babies coming home from the hospital.  I see us all snuggled in on the couch watching a movie when it’s cold and snowy outside. 

I hear things too.  I hear the voices of my family and friends singing happy birthday to each other, my children, their children.  I hear the sounds of a hundred barbecues, the sound of the tears we all shed over hard times, the murmurs of support given when needed. 

I have so many memories, sights, sounds, smells and feelings that live here, but as of Sunday, I no longer do.  I no longer have the option of running into my family at church, or even having the casual knowledge that it doesn’t matter, because I’ll catch up with them later if I don’t.  I can’t have dinner with my mom on a whim.  I can’t run to a pal’s house at 9:30 at night because we’re both feeling awake and in the mood for company.  That has been my life for so long, and now that’s not my life anymore.  I’ve never had a problem making friends, and it’s never bothered me much when one left because I knew we wouldn’t lose touch and that I’d see them again.  It’s just that this has really been the golden time of friendship in my life.  I’ve been through some viciously hard things in the last year, as have my friends and the closeness, trust and fun that has come out of it has been the very best in my life.  I don’t think I could ever top it.  We’ve come such a long way, and still have far to go, but it’s just painful that I am not going to be here for it.

No matter my general outlook, this is the end of an age.  The last ten years have happened here, with these people.  The best things, the worst things, the most joyful things, the hardest and saddest things.  The people I love the most have been here.  The people who have taught me the most, loved me the most, laughed with me the most, supported and cared for me the most have been in this place.  I’m taking a few of them with me, but I’m leaving so many behind.

It hurts my heart.

Things I dislike about humanity.

#1- Greed.  I hate greed.  People will do all sorts of other nasty things for greed.  Whether the point of the greed is money, attention, admiration or whatever.  Greed sucks.  Greed can make a person lose all respect for human life.  It can make a person stop loving their children, their spouse, their friends or their family.  Greed changes personalities, goals, careers and souls.  Greed is evil.

#2 – Superiority.  This is the thing that incorporates a sense of entitlement, lack of faith, the urge to judge, and the inability to see you are doing wrong when someone kindly points it out.  The folks nurturing superiority are the ones that feel there should be nothing disallowed them.  They think they should be able to do whatever they want, whenever they want and there should be no consequences.  If there are consequences, they are generally someone else’s fault and they are then allowed to be as pissed as they like and feel free to mistreat the person administering the consequences.  They deem anyone not of the same opinion as themselves an idiot and not worthy of life on earth.  Everyone else’s facts are opinions while their opinions are fact.  These people inspire hatred, disgust and contempt.  They are insufferable and impossible to like.  Unfortunately, they can’t admit they are total assholes because the world would stop spinning so they figure that since you don’t like them something must be wrong with you.  According to them, that’s a fact.

#3 – Denial.  We all know someone who is in denial.  This is the person that allows themselves to be hosed for whatever, money, time, affection, work, etc, refuses to listen when you repeatedly inform them that they are getting hosed and then hit rock bottom and scream in your face “why didn’t you tell me?!?!?!”  Uh, gee, fuck you?  Of course you told them, everyone did.  Did they listen?  No.  Did they end up broke, sick, out of a job, homeless, helpless, hopeless?  Duh.  Just like you said they would?  Duh again.  Are we supposed to say “I told you so?”  No, and I can’t see why not.  If they were blind enough to do it the first time than maybe a little frustrated rake over the coals would drive it home enough to prevent it the second time.  Or the third.  Then again, probably not.

List to continue, I’m off to drink Chai and pass out.

Yes, I am completely insane. Thanks for asking.

I’m losing my mind.  More than usual, anyway.

We’ve received an offer from the campus housing department.  It’s for an apartment.  Not my first choice, but we might be able to make it work.  Then I find out that it is an eight hundred square foot apartment that has three bedrooms.   Are you kidding me?  We live in a two bedroom duplex at the moment that is more that.  But, ok I could probably live with that.  Then the next bit of information hits.  There are no W/D hookups, the nearest laundry room is two buildings away, laundry is 75 cents per load to wash and 75 cents per load to dry and the apartment offered is on the third floor.  OK, first off, the cost of that will bankrupt us.  Secondly, I’m not really sure how this will work because my oldest has some issues that seem to necessitate the occasional three hour long screaming session, screaming night terrors and rather a lot of stomping, hitting the floor and throwing himself down.  I can just see them evicting us because the neighbors called the cops, sure that we are beating the snot out of him.  Yes, he’s currently medicated but I have a feeling the medication issue is one we will be messing with for quite some time.  Yes, we are trying to find him a child psychiatrist but I don’t know what the outcome of that will be.  Also, I’m not sure how he will deal with moving and all the stresses involved in that.  He’s already having a hard time with the idea of leaving his friends (family) behind. 

We are talking to the housing department and at least making them aware of these issues so that if (when) something of this nature arises we can at least say “hey, we warned you.”  My biggest fear is that they will tell us it’s no problem because they have all this wonderful family counseling shit available on campus (they do, except for the wonderful part) and that should take care of our problems.  I’m not remotely interested in trying it because I checked out their stuff online and it’s so granola it crunched and stuck to my shoes.  It’s a fine example (actually all their literature is) of how diversity works for everyone but the conservative Christian.  I don’t want my son to learn about his “spirit guide” or crap of that ilk.  I’m not interested in teaching him that wanting to do something probably makes it a good idea or that we are all the masters of our own little world.  I think it’s garbage and I’m not interested.  Even their toddler care leans in that direction.  It’s a little scary.

I’ve been forcibly reminding myself all morning that God never said anything in this life would be easy and that even though it feels like I’ll be moving into a life filled with spritual warfare, that may not neccesarily be the case, or at least no more than it is here.  The other thing I’ve been trying to tell myself is that just because I’m a little scared that we will move, the hubby will get a job and start school and will happily dump any and all issues into my lap while contenting himself with either complaining about them or ignoring them, doesn’t mean it will happen.  This is what happened while he was in school here and when all the shit hit the fan I realized that while my feelings were hurt, the whole single mom gig wouldn’t really be a change if our marriage didn’t continue.  I won’t do that again, but it was easier to contemplate while we were here and I was so close to my wonderful support system. 

I dunno, I may be making this bigger than it is, but I tend to work better with as much information as possible and a contingency plan in place.  It’s possible the apartment thing could work out fine, but it’s also possible it could turn into a total fiasco.  I have to put as many safe-guards in place as I can to either make it work or at least make it a soft landing if it all falls through.  Those of you who are inclined, pray for us.  Those who aren’t……pray for us anyway.

The men in my life and the ways they make me homicidal.

I love my family.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way.

So.  My sons are being assholes.  The youngest is doing his level best to perfect the evil, raspy, seriously pissed scream that all babies use when attempting to puncture an eardrum.  He generally only uses this mode of communication when he’s tired and I’m taking too long to clean him off before removing him from his high chair or I’m not walking fast enough to suit him.  Or I’m breathing too loud.  I’ve taken to either blowing in his face or yelling back at him (which always reduces him to the tears of an emotionally crushed person) to show him that I don’t care how pissy he is, I will not tolerate being screamed at.  He can cry all he wants but he will NOT scream at me.  I don’t know if this counts as effective parenting but I don’t want him to be the kind of two-year-old who thinks he can get what he wants by screaming.  He’d be screaming all day and I’d be legally insane.  I think the reason I like very young babies so much is because they are so cute, quiet and without personality.  They are these adorable little lumps of flesh that are soft, cuddly, fragrant and pliable.  I never got annoyed with my baby for needing to eat in the middle of the night or being upset over a messy diaper.  I think that is because these are reasonable needs and that is what they are supposed to do.  If they didn’t let us know what they needed we’d never figure it out on our own.  However, once they pass the six month mark things change.  It’s not really all about needs any longer.  It’s about wants and frustration and boredom and dictatorial behavior.  Generally speaking, he doesn’t want to be held he just wants to eat my glasses.  He doesn’t want to take a nap he just wants to be entertained instead of sitting in his bumbo surrounded by a mountain of stimulating toys while mommy attempts to wash her face and brush her teeth.  I feel like the ultimate bitch but I refuse to allow him to control every aspect of my day.  This has been somewhat conflicting for me because I’m not sure exactly what stay at home mommies are supposed to do if not that.  Either way, I’m not into the idea that the kids should have more say in what goes on in the house than I do.  I’m the adult, dammit. 

My oldest has also decided that today is the day to make mommy crazy.  We started off by me going into his room to inform him that if he didn’t stop stomping on the floor I was going to use his college fund to buy Valium.  While I was in there I decided to get clean clothes for the baby and looked up to notice that someone (I wonder who!?!?) had cut the strings that hold the blinds together.  I asked my oldest how that had happened and he told me with wide-eyed innocence that he didn’t know……..he was just jumping around.  I informed him in that menacing way I have perfected (this was further sharpened by the fact that this was a pre-coffee altercation) that I believed that to be utter crapola and that he’d better tell me.  He said “I’m not going to lie” and handed me his scissors.  I’m pretty sure that steam began to pour from my hair.  I asked him if he cut them yesterday after being sent to his room for back-talking and he said yes.  I asked him if he did it because he was mad that he was sent to his room and he said yes.  I was so pissed I had to walk out of the room without a word, change the baby, and then come back.  I informed him that he would be spending the day in his room.  I also informed him that I would be taking his piggy banks to pay for the damage.  He immediately started in on the unfairness of this at which point I explained to him in a blistering voice that even though we live here, the house is not ours (as I have explained many times before) and that he knows we are moving in just a few short months and everything will have to be fixed before we go.  I told him that if it costs money for the blinds to be repaired it will be his money that paid for it.  After leaving his room I went about my business in a huff, pissed and a little depressed that either his meds are no longer working or he’s just evil incarnate or maybe I’m just a shitty mom.  I went to my room to e-mail the hubby and my oldest decided to follow me in with his latest gift.  It read: “Mom  You do not love me and I do not love you.”  Sweet.  I set it down and sent him back to his room.  Two minutes later he returned with an identical one for dad.  He also made a point of showing me how he had scratched his legs repeatedly leaving long, angry red marks.  I let him know that doing that wasn’t smart because it hurt and it didn’t get him anywhere.  He looked a little deflated by my logic but had to agree.  He has since decided that life is not ruined after all.  He was actually a little teary over a family picture he colored and he’s been very agreeable. 

I’m a little worried though.  After all, it’s just now eleven in the morning and this is the kind of day we’ve had so far. 

Of course all the hubby has to say is that we all have bad days.  He doesn’t seem to understand that bad days here can bring about the end of the world.  At the moment I’m fed up with the lot of them and am considering relocating to Siberia.

Fuck you, you fuckin’ fuck!

So.  Some days are good.  Some days I revel in my strength as a betrayed wife living the dream of forgiveness, understanding and love.  On those days I feel mostly at peace, secure in the knowledge that I am doing the right thing, ensuring a good family life for my children, and taking the road less traveled.

Other days are soooooo not like that.

Other days, I’m evil.  Not only do I think evil thoughts, I have evil fantasies and almost no control over what comes out of my mouth.  The thoughts range from the odd “BASTARD!!!” while the hubby is telling me something to “I wonder how much trouble I’d be in if I ran you over with my car right now.”  There are fantasies about beating him until he’s maimed for life (Isn’t that a great word?  Maimed!!!), staying long enough for him to pay for a boob job, a tummy tuck, some expensive spa treatments and a fabulous new wardrobe then leaving him for someone younger buffer and more gifted in the shorts, one where I just take off and leave him with the difficult task of caring for the children alone so he can see what that’s like (BASTARD!!!), the list just goes on and on.  It’s like my brain squirrels around while I’m asleep trying to come up with the scenario that makes me come out on top while making him suffer the ultimate in physical and psychological pain.  I’m not sure how much of this is normal, but it makes for a strange and stressful day.  It’s hard to bite all that back.  Eventually he e-mails me or comes home and I end up just keeping my mouth shut to stem the flood of venom that threatens to erupt.  Sometimes I even have a hard time saying mundane things to him without putting a seriously bitchy tone on it.  “Oh, you want chicken for dinner?  Well, wishing ain’t getting, as YOU well know!”  I don’t say that, but it’s what I’m thinking.  I mentally refer to him as “the piece of shit I married” (as in, you think you have problems?!?  Let me tell you about the piece of shit I married!)  and wonder why I had to get the defective one.  None of these thoughts are helpful or constructive and I’m not sure how to get rid of them.  Distractions don’t work, keeping busy makes them worse, if I pray about it I end up praying for him to be stricken with a disfiguring, painful yet not life threatening disease.  I’m not sure if I should just let them run their course or if I should continue to try to fight them off.  I once tried asking myself “do I love him?”  Of course the answer is yes.  Unfortunately on it’s heels came the question “do you hate him?” and unfortunately the answer is yes to that too, even if only sometimes.  It’s a strange and stupid place I’m in now.  I must say that my self-control is the best it’s ever been, although it hasn’t been tested with anything concrete in a while.  Here’s a question.  If the rage stops being tempered by hurt, what happens?  Do the fantasies of listening to him talk about his day and interrupting him with a right cross to the jaw stop being just fantasies?  Would I no longer be able to restrain myself?  What do I do if that happens?  What happens if the shit all hits the fan once we live somewhere else and my family isn’t around to bail me out and provide an alibi?

See?  See where these days get me?!?  I don’t think this is healthy.  Occasionally fun, but not healthy.

Kids? Seriously?

There are days when I wonder what sort of spiked crack I was smoking when I decided I wanted kids. 

Not that I don’t love my kids all the time, I do.  It’s just that some days, the days when they are making me insane, the days when I can barely contain my irritation at them, the days when I feel driven to poke my own eye out with a pair of tweezers, make me wonder if I wasn’t experiencing the world’s most catastrophic brain fart when I decided kids were the way to go. 

Kids really do the strangest things.  My oldest, for example, at some point decided that he’s going to begin styling his hair before school.  Dandy.  I’m not sure what brought this decision on, but he seemed fairly gung-ho about it so I said “cool!”  He started by using about a gallon of water on his less-than-half-inch-long hair.  The hair looked plastered to his head and his shirt was soaked to somewhere near his navel.  He also had water in his ears, on his face and up to his elbows.  Notice I’m not mentioning what the bathroom looked like.  I, like a good mommy, smiled and helped him dry off a little and got him a dry shirt and blah blah and figured we were done.  Not so much.  Apparently in his little world, all that was missing from his fabulous new ‘do was toothpaste.  I’m not sure if he thought toothpaste resembled hair gel (which I do not own or use) or if he thought the blue color would suit him or if he wanted to have minty-fresh hair or what.  All I know is that the next time he came out of the bathroom he looked like a giant smurf had hocked a giant lunger on his head.  Toothpaste doesn’t make a good hair product.  Even if it’s the sparkly kind.  It is very thick and sticky and you can’t comb through it, not that any of these things deterred my son.  He happily emptied somewhere between a third and a half a tube of toothpaste in the name of style.  I can’t remember the last time he had a shower before lunch, but I am grateful that he decided to do his experimenting so early in the day.  Kids do some strange things.

My youngest isn’t exactly ready to begin doing strange things so he confines his strangeness to furiously spitting all over himself and frantically and loudly breathing through his nose while screwing his face up and sticking his lips out.  He has figured out how to get himself free from his bumbo seat, though.  All he has to do is stiffen his body, his legs pop out and then he rolls onto the floor.  This never bothers him and he seems to like it.  Since we only use the bumbo on the floor I see no reason to be bothered by this.  The only real issue I have with him is his refusal to sleep at night.  He’s being such an ass about this.  All is good when we lay him down, he goes to sleep and we have a period of quiet.  Could be an hour, could be five.  Then he gets squirmy.  Then he rolls over onto his tummy.  Then he gets pissed that he’s on his tummy so he starts screaming at the top of his lungs.  One of his tired parents goes in eventually to flip him over onto his back (or his big brother comes to get us to rescue him from the noisy baby) so that he can go back to sleep.  He snuggles drowsily in and then repeats the process ad nauseum until morning.  Won’t stay on his back, doesn’t want to be on his stomach.  Little shit.  I’m thinking duct tape may the answer to this problem.  Either way, we are all losing sleep because of this stupid habit of his.

The days when the spiked crack question come into play are days when the youngest hasn’t slept, the oldest is being a shit (backtalking, refusing to do what he’s told, tantruming, generally being jerky) and I’m supposed to be somewhere.  I seriously hate these days and it’s always an exercise in willpower not to dump the kids on the hubby the second he gets home and offer him a cheery “they’re your problem now!” on my way out the door.  Sometimes things get better when he gets home (increasingly they do these days) sometimes they deteriorate more as the evening wears on.  Depends on the day.   

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Protected: The rise and fall of the 0.02 rat

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The sadness that is me.

Lately, nothing to really piss me off.  Everything on my mind these days is just depressing.  See, here’s how it works: Pissed = funny, depressed = not funny.  Get it?  When something really pisses me off instead of depressing me I’ll let y’all know.  Promise.

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