Oh, the words I could say. . .

I would love to say I hate you and I want, more than anything, for you to be dead - soon! But everybody says that would be mean and that I'm better than that - which is true most days. So, I'll just say, the best way I know how:

You SUCK!! In a big, self absorbed, I'd-try-but-the-complexities-of-human-emotion-bore-me-and-are-too-difficult-to-take-time-away-from-my-own-self-worship sort of way.

You're despicable. The level of your arrogance disgusts, saddens, and angers me more than sexual abuse suffered by 2 generations of my family at the hands of my step-father. He, at least had a poor upbringing and mental illness. You, sorry representative of evolution that you are, just choose the path that's easier for you. You are a pathetic shadow of the man you wish people believed you are. Worthless, really.

The air your lungs suck would be better served pumping the last few seconds of heroic effort into the necrotic, wasted lungs of a filthy, homeless, thieving vagrant to extend his useless life.

Listening to the chaotic fiction & self-rationalization you pass off as conversation is tiring and sickening to witness. I'd have thought you at least capable of making lies sound a bit realistic. But that even your imagination is broad enough to encompass all the lies you tell yourself to make your feeble flounderings and flailings seem socially acceptable? The notion is intolerable. Only a wimp, with no hope of acceptance or redemption by any other means, would bother selling himself such a sorry bill of goods and calling it his life. I wish you would just vanish into a puff of acrid sulfer. Not a soul would suffer for your absence. Not a soul for even a second. You drain all joy from anything you touch. Except for financial aspects, you are a fake human with nothing to offer and a unique blind spot to meaningful gain.

I wish you nothing but nothing - always. As you have given, so shall you receive. You are a pathetic, miserly loser, so weak and cold that you would blot out the sun to keep it from shining on your hoard of delusions. I do secretly wish that you someday experience true emptiness in your life, the kind that seers your mind and soul, leaving you without capacity to plead for, earn, or even yearn for foregiveness from whatever Higher Power may still give a shit about your dark, heartless, withered void of an existence.

You should attempt, if you ever muster the courage, to be a real, full person. You miss so much hiding in that safety net of emotionless denial. There are real joys to be had, but you would have to embrace the notion of being open-minded to others' opinions and possible superiority of skill or knowledge, (dipshit!). Experiencing the joy of another person is better than feeling your own. It might take, ya know, paying their life a bit of attention. It might even call for some empathy or compassion. So, I'm not holding out a whole lot of hope. Your skills are more well suited for pursuits described in the previous paragraph. Which is fine, for you.

But, hey!! Good luck with this current plan. . .looks like it's got potential to get you right where you deserve to be. God's speed.

To Whom It May Concern

Useful quote from Jesse James' press statement in response to news that he's been cheating on Sandra Bullock. Can be sprinkled liberally into almost any conversation and should be used several times a day:

"There is only one person to blame for this whole situation, and that is me. It's because of my poor judgement that I deserve everything bad that is coming my way.

This has caused my wife and kids pain and embarrassment beyond comprehension and I am extremely saddened to have brought this on them. I am truly very sorry for the grief I have caused them. I hope one day they can find it in their hearts to forgive me."

Note that Sandra Bullock became an Oscar winner last week. Jesse doesn't need to keep his wife in a basement to get it on with his new girlfriend. Though he probably does own a velvet burnout brocade pick-up-guy shirt and fancy white leather shoes. . .

Phase II

It's not so much grieving the passing of this phase of my life. It's more discovering that it was a phase. I thought it was my life. What I'm grieving is life as I know it. There was no backup plan. There was no reserve for Option B. I put it all out there.

So. . . "you can do whatever you want now" comes with 2 kids, 40 years of emotional baggage, severely outdated work experience and an expansive horizon of solitude. Deep breaths and chocolate are just not going to cut it. Something's going to come to me, right? Some notion of where to go, what to do first, next and forever?

Today, I'm going to sit in the sun and seek inspiration in a book, my iPod and the breeze.

Children will play

So it occurs to Jane that she does not want to play with Johnny and his ever-evolving exclusionary rule making. So she tells him, "I don't want to play anymore." And Johnny, knowing he cannot win if no one plays, throws a tantrum. He purposely sits too close to Jane, making her uncomfortable. He makes sure to grab the cookie with the most chips, so she can't have it. He hides the toys on a high shelf, knowing Jane can't reach.

Well, Jane really doesn't want to play. Jane knows that cookies would just make her fat anyway. Jane knows where a ladder is, and could reach the toys - if she wanted to play. Instead she just feels sorry for Johnny. When will he learn that no one wants to play with someone who's willing to stack the deck, change the rules, or lie so that they always win. He'll become a self-serving egotistical narcissist if allowed to grow up this way. And Jane needs no part of that shit again!

Jane will go read a book. Maybe later, she'll play tea party with some of the girls up the street. Good Jane. Good for you.

Quiet streets, quiet house

It's just so much to overcome...

That each of them would say to this day (had one of them not finally died) that they loved me. And I have to sympathize with their confusion and anger, because I KNOW they think they do . . .or did. That they will lie until they believe themselves. That they can't step one foot towards compromise or discomfort for my benefit. But what's grieving me most today is their being so deluded by arrogance or ego or habit that in their minds I became the perpetrator, the rebel, the disruptor. Because I 'did not accept' what they offered as love.

I do not accept that I am less than. I do not accept that he and his priorities always come first. I do not accept that sharing your penis shows compassion or joy or even affection. I do not accept that this is the best any of them had to offer. They let themselves off far too easily, these so called men. I do not accept it.

And for that, I must be cast out. Tossed aside. Left. Alone. Still.

The overcoming takes knowledge and power, fortitude, courage, patience, stamina, strength, agility, time. I have developed a few of these. I had become dependent on there being someone with whom to share my heavy cargo. That may have been my fatal mistake. And my energies are waning with each blow that comes. What if I can't keep going? What do they win? What will I have lost? A chance to be used again? What if I can't get to the other side? What if I'm afraid that what is there is more of the same? The answer is - I just do, they don't win, I've lost nothing, I will be strong enough, I can, and if there is more of the same for me, perhaps I'll have taught my daughters to declare with every fiber of their beings, "I do not accept this!"

The cargo was always mine and the someone became too tired? overburdened? disinterested? Or was it that they never intended to help? I had delusions of my own: that we wanted that future together. I did not see that only those willing to tiptoe daily past the sleeping giant, dressed in emperors clothes would be granted refuge in the comfort we had depicted.

The overcoming means destroying illusions, letting go of dreams, forgiving oneself and others and accepting what is real.

So. . .

I am more than. You are incapable of recognizing things that threaten your comfort and safety. My priorities, once they're established are equally as valuable as anyone's and require compromise for the rewards to be shared. You should try harder to be the person you want to be because I'm sure if you could see clearly, you would know that this is not it. There is no giant and I will not tiptoe.

The house is quiet because I have no cable. I have to keep my phone calls to a minimum because I could only commit to the smallest plan due to a limited pool of money, an unspecified amount of time to live on it. The streets were quiet last night because I was out on them alone. Alone. Still. It could be worse, I could still be believing in any one of those 'men'.

Tears all day

This could have been what dreams are made of

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.

ABCs of Coping - before & after

Aching Abundant
Bored Beginning
Cry Charisma
Deal Divorcing
Endured Endeavoring
Flailing Fierce
Groveling Grateful
Hindered Happy
Idle Independent
Jostled Joyful
Keening Keeping on
Longing Learning
Maddened More
Negated New
Oppressed Open
Pushed Peaceful
Quiet Quality
Rankled Renewed
Stung Singing
Tested Triumphing
Undermined Unshaken
Victimized Validated
Waiting Walking
Yearning Yes!

Why Publisher people get to make up the title

I'm gonna start back in on this blogging thing. Slowly but surely. Almost every day I think of, see, hear or experience something that would make a great post and promise myself I'll work on it (if not today, then for sure I'll get to it by...).
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.

I'm her people

...and would you see if my chiropractor can fit me in after snacktime?

Thanks, Mother.

At Least 82 Reasons It's More Than Miraculous I Haven't Caved on the Lenten Sacrifice of Chocolate

Last Monday there were 6 inches of snow on the ground and we had yet another Snow Day.

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.

*daaah*

where's that lemon cream cake???

Scary quotes of the day

3 yr. old (from car seat in the WAY back) - Mommy, I just touched my eyebaaaaall.



Me (driving) - Yeah, so how'd that go for ya?



3yo - It was kind of...instirresting...



Later



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!!

WTF Friday

new theme.

inspiration?:

woke up SICK, seeking replacement for tonight's sex toy party -

great,

only my 2nd one in 6 months...

65 degrees today. This was Monday:

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?

WTF???

Thought for Thursday

All the hype about unhealthy body image from women measuring themselves against what the media portrays makes me wonder why the same phenomenon hasn't struck in the area of bra application.

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.

Word Count Wednesday - 25

After eight years in exile,

Mr. Tuggles was noticed and named for the first time yesterday.

Today,

"stuffed animal day",

he was

sadly forgotten.

Two Things on Tuesday - society's ills hurt my stomach

1.) A friend of mine has been banned from her wife's classroom by the school principal. She hangs out in the morning after dropping off the kids; feeds the fish and wishes her better half a nice day. It took me most of a school year to figure out they were together. Then, this past year our family was honored to attend their wedding. Now, they're being discriminated against by an employer. None of us are the type to organize a protest or anything, but a little part of my heart is broken...

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...

Word Count Wednesday - 18th

The dog stood sadly on the front step while we got ready and ate.

Raining!

Another day inside.

2 Things on Tuesday - wish I could rap

1.) What is it with these young, podunck town law-enforcement types that makes them say shit?
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?

I have a dream...

What if,

instead of telling me there are crumbs on the counter,

you just wiped them up?

Disarray

I feel I alienated my book club members with unedited neediness last night. I only had one drink.

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!!!!

Word Count Wednesday - 11

My daughter's name anagrams to "semen and shriekingly". Mine -

"snarlingly hymen"