and you've made it nothing much.
You could have helped me become so much more and lifted us up. Just look what you had to do. Does it make you proud?
You could have listened. Yes, to me.
You could have relented, just a little at times. Not even now, when you see me in tears.
I only asked for what I felt I deserved - to be loved. As I am. and now I'm crying again
You could have been the man who was more to me than pain. Was it too hard? Is it some superhuman task that not one of you is up to? Am I to be understanding?
You're focused on the kids now. Where did I go? Was I ever even there?
You seem to think some injustice was perpetrated on you. What was it? That I asked to have things? That I wanted more than domesticity? That I finally stopped taking less-than as my only option? Did I hurt you somehow? Or is enough of an insult to tell you you can't treat me that way anymore?
We could have shown the world how it's done. We're statistics, instead.
I tried. I loved you until I realized you no longer knew who I was. And now I know you do not care.
And what could have been drifts off into the corner like a dust bunny. I'm sure you'll find someone to clean that up so you can get to the gym with your friends.
I'll be here in the basement. Attempting once and for all to be my own mother, father and best friend.
You go be a millionaire or whatever. I will not demand an apology. I'll cry all day or all year if I have to and I'll get the kids to school on time and I'll stand tall, not be vengeful and wonder for the rest of my life why you couldn't just love me.
Keening Keeping on
Problem is, I want this to be all "Eat, Pray, Love" and at the moment it's more Bitch, Whine, Moan. It's getting better, though.
Yesterday it was 80 degrees - no we haven't moved and yes, I am so on top of this housekeeping that my children had appropriate attire on both occasions. Yes, thank you, thank you very much!
I'm dogsitting my in-laws 2 crazy-a** dogs. That makes 3 dogs, 2 kids and one parent this week. Husband out of town, in-laws usually spell me on Wednesdays with the pre-schooler. So that's 4 days with 3 dogs, 2 kids and one me. Yes, thank you, thank you very much!
Even today, the GYN office hasn't received notification from our insurance that the $3605 they billed was reduced and paid out at $416, therefore, they're perplexed at my request for the refund of $1700 we paid out of pocket before they would perform my surgery - back in January. I spent enough time on hold the phone to ensure that the insurance company would fax the statement to the Dr. AGAIN in order that they can better understand. I will now call them every other day until my refund is received. Because I wouldn't want to treat them any differently than I know they'd want to treat me. Besides, we owe at least twice that to the anesthesiologist, the hospital, the lab, etc...due to our mid 4-figure deductible and I want my money!!!
This week, I was somewhat hornswaggled into signing my non-competitive 7 yr. old daughter up for soccer. K's Mom was going to coach and K wanted Maris on her team. Even though M has never played a competitive or team sport, we "should sign her up 'cause we have this whole friend & friend's Mom support structure around it"...And the clincher for me was that K's Mom would pick them up from school on practice days and keep her at their house until dinnertime. (That's once a week for 9 weeks!!!) So, I sign her up, buy the equipment - which she immediately tried on and took outside to get dirty check out - and then find out that due to a number of converging unfortunate circumstances, K's not signed up, K's Mom isn't coaching and now I'm committed to the driving, killing the time during practice and then single-handedly cajoling the kid to go to practice, meet some new people, play the games, just do your best and have fun!, and heaven forbid consoling her because she's not the fastest, scoringest, whateverest player. Oy! I'm such a good Mom and they will be SO grateful when they're 30!!!
I was guilt-tripped into dinner with my formerly estranged father this evening. Another fabulous and enjoyable repast at every gourmet's mecca - the Olive Garden - with Mr. Matt and my two young children. Proving once again that kids like nothing better than lingering over appetizer, soup (2 rounds), salad, the entree & then a nice coffee. The man has no idea that there are people out here and none of them particularly interested in continually revolving around his massive gravitational pull!! Especially when there's still reading homework and bedtime looming at 8. I'll expound on this further with some episodic postings of Mr. Matt experiences. Anyway, in an effort to stave off bloody mutiny, I allowed the little critters to order dessert. The dinner to sugar ratio was going to be BAD, but Mr. Matt was deep in discussion about - no, it's too good, I have to save it. The younger one, who's always had a 6th sense about impending danger, ordered the lemon cream cake ($5.95 a slice), which is fine. The older one, my first born, the 7 yr. old teenager?? Yea, she ordered the death by chocolate thing.
And yet, I have not been swayed in my resolve!!! I am STILL chocolateless after almost 2 weeks. Is that it??? Tell me it's 3 weeks.
where's that lemon cream cake???
Me (driving) - Yeah, so how'd that go for ya?
3yo - It was kind of...instirresting...
Me - ...so you're sure that even though Miss M isn't going to be your coach and K isn't going to be on your team and there are going to be both boys and girls on your team that you still want to give this soccer thing a try? It's every weekend...
7 yr old - Yeh, yeh, yeh!!!! Maybe I'll meet some cute boys!!
I think I may be doing this wrong...maybe my M-I-L is right!!
Head hurts. So bad I took decongestant - bad idea. F u z z y
3 yr old at home with me: juice, pickles, goldfish, put in Willy Wonka, fruit leather, more juice, change channel, candy? Candy? CANDY?!!!
Mother-n-law dropped off her dogs
(dog sitting 7 days)
and gave me this:
If character can be changed in 5 days, hmmmm, with whom to begin?
I've noticed in the locker room at the gym that a majority of women put their bras on using the clip-it-around-your-waist-and shimmy-it-up-and-around, then put-your-arms-through-the-'sleeves' method. Not exotic or alluring; very pedestrian. Today, I even witnessed a woman climb feet first into a pre-clasped bra and pull it up like pants to the point where she could shift to stage 2 of the aforementioned method. whoa!! Is it really that tough? I'm not looking for a full on strip tease or anything. But is it asking too much for the more widely publicized reach-to-the-center-of-your-back-with-both-hands-simultaneously method?
Wait though, maybe I can use my great feat of contortionism to make me feel more like a movie star. Nevermind.
2.) My 7 yr. old asked the other day why all the black girls are stupid & mean. So, now my heart is completely broken and there have already been so many protests...
Driving the girls home from Grandma's house the other day I came to the bottom of the hill & noticed emergency lights at the intersection. After stopping at the stop sign, I edged forward to see which direction the lights were coming from (they were bouncing on the abutment of an overpass), stopped again to make sure I wouldn't be interfering with any law-enforcement type procedures if I proceeded on my planned right turn. Please bear in mind that the speed limit coming down the mountain is 25. Ah, only a routine traffic check (there's a crack house on grandma's hill in the mountains...). So I join the line of (3) cars and start digging for my license. When I roll the window down, the 25 year old 'officer' says to me, "d'y always approach stops signs that fast? You'da rolled right through that one if we hadn't been here." To which I responded, "Fuck you, has been!! Couldn't get into ITT Tech? I have NEVER rolled through a fucking stop sign, ever! Never had a speeding ticket, freaking never had a parking ticket. I've never driven drunk, always wear my seat belt, and if you think for one second that I would ever roll through a stop sign in a Southern state with my children in the car, you must be one of the dumbest ones they've raised yet! Moron!"
...in my head. Actually, I said the Moron part as he was checking my rear license plate - imagine he was checking to verify me as one of those lawless types that hasn't dusted her 'tags' this season, either - and M asked me how I knew he was a moron. I told her I'd explain it when we rolled up the window & drove away.
I seethed for a while as I drove away, waiting for the meds to kick in and settle my rattled nerves - I have authority figure issues and a evolutionary-Irish distaste for coppers of any ilk, especially smug, young, powercrazy, male ones - and then started wishing that my heritage was different. Instead of being an upper middle class stay at home mom driving a minivan, I wished for that moment to be a strong ethnic urban chica rollin in a blazin lowrider. 'Cause then, instead of stewing my temper for a few days down to a blogworthy frustration reduction, I could have amped it on some Red Bull, juiced it with a scary beat and rapped my way to fame about how the 5-0 ain't worth sh*t. Yeah, I wish I could rap about the injustices carried out on me by the POlice...
and wait....here's a good line I might have come up with and used, but actually found when looking for a satisfying slang term to use for police (I'm still not happy with the "5-0", but the dryer's about to buzz and I didn't want to waste too much time...) - "a government-funded butt-picking fucktard addicted to donuts" NICE!!!!
2.) How will we ever know when Nip/Tuck has jumped the shark?
Suggesting that my once-estranged father move closer to receive his chemo seemed like a good and charitable gesture when I was pretty sure he’d croak.
My writing does not flow, entertain and inspire. I read these other bloggers and they’re GOOD and uplifting and powerful. Instead of being inspired, I am ashamed and want my teddy bear. I don’t think the meds are working.
I went to the wrong college, have never been paid more than $22K a year, possess no discernible skill and do not have “connections”. This is greatly distressing as I still envision myself as a budding corporate success – just in a bit of a slump, as I have no job, no wardrobe and no lunch dates.
Acne plagues my pre-menopausal skin. I’m not strong enough to go no-carb in order to lose this matronly plumpness that robs me of my …nah, never had it. I’ve quit coloring my hair so that I can periodically hear how courageous I am.
Passion Parties annual convention is in Vegas again this year. I had the time of my life there 2 years ago and did nearly as well last year. My business has teetered on the brink of collapse for this entire fiscal year, so I wanted to attend as my last hurrah. Even if I didn’t attend the meetings (as that might be a bit too sad) I wanted to be around for the peripherals – that contact high, a bed I don’t have to make and the llaauuughiing!! – so, I booked a room at a different hotel for $36 a night. Now none of the usual crew is going. I thought I’d go out anyway, just for some Mommy time, but then really thought about 5 days alone in Vegas. It’s getting to the point where I need to book airline tickets or let it go and I really worry about the long-term ramifications of ‘letting it go’.
I’d love to attend BlogHer ’09 but don’t feel I’ve got the chops. Or what it takes to justify the expense due to the global financial situation and all.
I dubbed Friday’s blog theme: Forgiveness this Friday and then didn’t have time to write any of the things I’d like to forgive myself for – which made me feel guilty which I’m having a hard time forgiving myself for.
Recently, I learned that a friend spent several months in bed a few years back. I thought she was just being antisocial. I’m sorry and I know how easy it would be to crawl right back in.
Good thing I’ve got Facebook!!!!
2.) I LOVE the way Liberace (our dog) tippy-toes across the poopy parts of the lawn when he chases after a ball. You can almost hear the cartoonish screeching as he pulls to a stop and carefully prances through the scary, icky part. And it's so cute how he nudge, nudge, nudges the ball with his nose checking to make sure it hasn't been contaminated before he'll grasp it delicately, like an escargot in his mouth and maybe - if you're lucky - bring the ball back.
My younger sister does not believe in keeping anything except a few decorative items on her kitchen countertops. The part of me that has taken interior design classes loves this and has great admiration for her adherence to aesthetic priorities. Until we visit with the 3 & 6 year olds who invariably and frequently spill stuff...and I discover that paper towels are kept somewhere in the cabinet under the sink. Not right there, standing at the ready when you open the door, but literally just tossed somewhere in there where you have to get down and look past the dishwashing detergent and the brasso and the window cleaner and hope you find them before whatever you just heard splash down in the other room soaks in and becomes a permanent stain or warps the hardwood or disappears altogether only to be found late at night or very early in the morning as you sneak through the living room for another hit of those homecooked leftovers and your socks get wet, so then you have a stain to clean AND more laundry...Isn't that cute? She keeps paper towels under the sink. Just anywhere under there...Not on either end of the counter - equidistant from the redline phone to poison control - within easy reach at a split second's notice. I love that for her!!!
Very distressed lately about the prospects for "returning" to the paid workforce at any point in the foreseeable future as:
1.) I have no career to go back to having spent the last 6 years mothering exclusively and the decade before that at piddly jobs which proved to be tangential to a career path.
2.) My college education is so out of date as to have included DOS
3.) What I envision being available to someone with limited relevant experience and hours outside of drop-off and pick-up from school pretty much points to daylight prostitution or janitorial work.
4.) This terrible sensation that I'd be "taking" a job from someone who really needs the money - like for food or necessities higher on the list than laser hair removal.
5.) I worry (hopefully disproportionately) about the whole having-to-actually-show-up-somewhere-on-time-dressed-and-ready-to-deal-with-stuff issue. Mostly what I worry about is what is says about me that I worry about it. I could totally get back into the swing of an adult professional life, right?
Well, all this and more can keep me wondering for a while, I guess, as I'm not running out to get just any old job. I have the luxury of waiting until the kids are well into school and the right opportunity comes along to get me back on a career track. Getting back into the paid workforce is just high in my mind lately 'cause mid-winter for Mommy can be a trifle monotonous (note to self: add diplomacy & exceptional communication skills to resume). The worry and wondering gives a Mommy something to do in the long, cold moments between spills.
Snow Day for THIS???????
are you REALLY driving that KIA Sedona "In Loving Memory of Theodore "Bitbug" Smythson 1958 - 2002"? And is adorning something with a blue book value of $1980 really the best tribute you can think of? I should hope when I am gone that no one orders a customized sticker online to commemorate my time on Earth.
That is all.
- a wheelbarrow
- Dr. Phil's Family First DVD set which is cover-captioned thusly: "Do you feel that your family is not what it used to be, or what it has the potential to be? Do you worry that the parenting decisions you're making today may be scarring your child for life? Do you sometimes feel you are in a tug of war with the world over who will shape your child's values and beliefs?..."
- the promise of money. As in, this bag of chocolates isn't your whole gift; it comes with $XXX to spend on that mixer you want. Only the money was not forthcoming. It's January 24th and the bag of chocolates is almost gone.
2.) What is it about having him referred to as Reverend Yum Yum has captured me so?? Do you have a mental image? Are you smiling stupidly, like me?