Friday, April 30, 2010

Pirate "costume" update....

So after nodding off for a few hours I ran to the 24 hour Super Wal Mart.  As philosophically opposed as I am to Wal Mart I have to admit they're convenient and cheap.

Anywho..  At 3:30 this morning I was roaming Wal Mart's aisles.  You see some straaaaaange creatures at that time of night in Wal Mart.  Tonite I was one of them.  Picture if you will..  pink flannel pajama bottoms with PINK snowflakes in various shades with a lil' sparkle in 'em.  A BROWN sweatshirt that has seen better days.  My, have GOT to be eight years old, Reeboks and my knotty hair yanked up in a hair clip.  Did I mention not a stitch of make up?  I looked like death.  I didn't care.  THAT my friends is a true sign that one is aging.  When you don't give a rat's ass what you look like in public you have reached the point of no return.

So there I am roaming the aisles hoping to find some bandanas.  None were jumping out at me so I went back to the sewing and craft aisles to see what this crafty Mom could come up with.  At three friggin' thirty in the morning.

I came across small packs of "fat quarters". A fat quarter is a one fourth yard cut of fabric.  Generally measuring 18x22 inches.  I bought a pack of six fat quarters in funky colors/designs and figured they would make do for bandanas.  I also bought a pack of black paper from which I was going to cut eye patches out of.  Guess what?  THAT would prove to be a bit more ambition than I was capable of putting out this morning.  So now I have an extra pack of  black paper to add to the monstrous pile of "craft" stuff I own.

Well let me tell you...  Riley (9) was NOT happy with me for not finding him "real" pirate stuff.  A costume.  Seriously???  WHERE did he expect me to find such a thing on the last day of April in the middle of the night?????  I TOLD all of the kids that they'd have to make do with whatever I came up with.  They said they understood.  They included Riley.  Sydney and Logan were fine with it.  Brendan is home sick so it didn't matter one way or another to him.

So Sydney and Logan happily wore their makeshift bandanas to school.  Riley??  REFUSED to wear his and gave me a look that if looks could kill I'd be dead six times over right now.   I am NOT on his good side at the moment.  Ask me if I care.  Nope. Not one damn bit...  ungrateful little twit can pout til' he's blue in the face.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

And it just keeps getting better...

Really?? Are ya' kiddin' me??????  Riley tells me NOW at 9:16 PM (yeah I know...  we're running late tonite, cut me some slack) that he needs to dress like a pirate for school...  TOMORROW!!! WHAT???  He swears he was JUST told about it today.  I doubted him.  Though I must admit, I do not recall seeing any papers about it in the last week.  Urg!
But wait..  it gets better...  
Brendan, Sydney and Logan (also at the elementary school) confirm Riley's story when they inform me that yep..  they can dress like a pirate tomorrow.  Something about the principal walking the plank.  I vaguely remember something about kids reading books, earning Mr. Hart his walk, blah, blah, blah... However, there was never any mention of anyone dressing like a pirate!!  Maybe I should have known.  I have been a parent for over seventeen years.  And I have had at least one child in school for the last fourteen years.  But it just never occurred to me.
So now here it is well after 9 PM and I have to come up with not one but FOUR pirate costumes.  No biggie....  excuse me while I go bang my head against a wall. 
Ok..  deep breaths.  Bandanas.  Four four of them.  Clip on faux gold earing.  Two pair.  (one per kid)  What more do they need?  Oh wait..  hahahaha...  Sydney just informed me that she wants a "pirate shirt" and Riley says he wants a gold tooth.  Yeah...  ok...  I'll get right on that.  
They are out of their ever lovin' little minds if they think for one second I am going to kill myself coming up with costumes for them when they waited until less then ten hours before they needed them to tell me.  Not happenin'.  Yes I AM an evil Mom. 
I'll do the best I can but they best not be expecting miracles.


Life goes on.  It's a cliche.  As well as a catchy tune.  And it's dead on the money.  Life does go on.  It's not always the life you'd planned on, it's not always the life you wanted and it's not going to always be the same. 

My marriage is a mere shell of what it once was.   I know it.  He knows it.  The kids know it.  Even the younger kids, I think, sense there's something a little off.  What I find the most odd about this whole situation is that we're fighting less since the realization that we're at the beginning of the end.  There's no need to fight.  It won't change anything.  So we co-exist. 
We discuss home and children matters.  We plan home improvement projects.  We coordinate schedules in anticipation of child related errands and activities.  We e-mail each other here and there through out the day to pass along some bit of info the other either needs or that we found interesting, and neutral enough, to share. 
It's actually quite....  pleasant.  Which is a little weird, a bit of a relief and a whole lot of scary.  Was it this easy because it was never meant to be and this was inevitable?  Or is this simply the calm before the storm??
I haven't cried in about a week.  Maybe a little less.  I've felt hopeless, sad, scared, depressed, etc, etc...  but I have not cried recently.  I expect I'll cry again.  It's who I am.  I cry.  Commercials, corny sitcoms... anything remotely sappy has the potential to start me crying.  So I'm only seeing this as a short reprieve from the tears. 
For now...  life goes on. 

Monday, April 26, 2010

Monday again already???

And a rainy, dreary Monday to boot.  Everybody all together now..  Blah! 
It's the kind of day that makes you want to crawl back into bed with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate wearing your fuzzy pajamas.  In my case it's my lap top, a bottle of WaWa Iced Tea and I'm wearing a mondo huge sweatshirt and yoga pants.  The effect is much the same.  And there are several books an arms length away on my nightstand. 
I know I SHOULD be up doing a million and one things that need to be done.  But I don't wanna.  (Said in my best pouty kid voice)
I spent so much of my growing up years hankerin' to be an adult and be able to do "whatever I wanted too".  Bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha....  As if.  THIS is what I couldn't wait for????  Bills, responsibilities, stretch marks and the inability to drive more than 30 miles without having to stop to find a little girls' room???  Can I return my adulthood and get back my childhood??? 
And the perks??  Eating all the cookie dough I want, drinking alcohol legally and getting to pick the radio station in the car.  Ok, those ARE pretty cool.  Only the friggin' cookie dough went straight to my ass, I can't handle my alcohol and I paid for the damn car so it goes without saying that I get to pick the radio station.
Yes I AM cranky this morning.  My husband is a buffoon, my children are slobs and I'm in the throes of the PMS from hell.  Which is sure to be followed by the period from hell.  Ya. Hoo.

Saturday, April 24, 2010


To say I've been down in the dumps lately would be an understatement.  The foundation of everything I hold dear is fixin' to crumble and I am ill prepared.  I didn't see this coming.  I really didn't. 
A marriage is like a roller coaster ride to be corny and cliche'.  It has it's ups, it as it's downs.  I'd grown used to them and expected the downs would pass as they always did.  I think in some very remote corner of my mind I still believe this down will pass like the others.  I just don't like to admit it out loud because shattered hopes are hard enough to handle alone.  Publicly shattered hopes are agonizing. 

We are settling into a routine.  We co-exist.  We speak when necessary and avoid anything that might spark an argument.  If at all possible we resort to communicating electronically via text messages and e-mails.  We don't really have arguments and on the rare occasion when it seems one may crop up we quickly defuse it.  I think we're both afraid to upset the precarious balance we're hanging onto right now.

I won't lie.  I have moments when the lonliness and fear overwhelm me.  Most nights I don't sleep for more than 1-2 hours at a stretch.  And I've gone well over twenty-four hours with no sleep at all.  Though last night I did manage to get in over six hours.  A few more nights of that and I might actually start to feel human again.

One of the few things we (he and I) agree on is that talking and fighting things to death right now won't solve anything and could very well cause further damage.  I know this nonchalant approach won't work long term but for now it's all I can handle emotionally.
Thankfully there are other things for me to focus on right now.  The kids' 1st Holy Communion is next Saturday, the school year is winding down and I have some personal goals I'm working on.  I'm not moving quite as quickly as I normally would but hey, I'm getting there.
And on that note I need to drag myself away from the idiot box (TV) and my portal to another world (lap top) and attempt to be productive.  (Can you feel the enthusiasm???)

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Uh oh....

It's that time again...  PMS is rearing it's ugly little head.  I'm bloated, craving sweets, irritable (more so than usual) and have the twinges of cramping coming on.  Oh yay me..  once a month I loathe being a woman.  And WHY is it WE are cursed with this monthly occurrence and men are cursed with... what??  NOTHING!!  Mr. Wonderful's smart ass reply when asked this question would be, 'We have to put up with you.'.  I didn't say he was the brightest bulb in the bunch.
I have.  Dozens of times by now.  Yet I laugh just as hard now as I did the very first time I read it.  THIS is precisely what every woman (if she's being honest and hasn't experienced menopause) endures each month when Aunt Flo, Patty or whatever euphemism you choose comes knockin' at your door. 
My personal favorite in this little diatribe.. 
  "What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness—actual smiling, laughing happiness—is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and KahlĂșa and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory."
Yep.  That's me in the throes of PMS.  And it's comin'...  Fasten your seatbelts it's going to be a bumpy ride.  

Morning chaos....

The key to getting through a school morning with six kids is the ability to tune the kids out.  I've learned that if I stay on an even keel they're less likely to have a meltdown.  Although the meltdowns do happen.  No avoiding those when you have six self absorbed mutant creatures who are as about as interested in going to school as I am in having frequent drilling done on my teeth without Novocain. 
The seven year old is the worse offender.  His eyes aren't even fully open when he begins his morning wailing.  This will continue, in varying tones and severity, until the moment the side door on the van slides open at the school.  Every. Single. Day.  Without fail.  It's been happening since a few weeks into Kindergarten. 
He has an IEP in place.  He did/does have some behavioral and speech delays.  But the above mentioned melt downs?  Have never occurred in school.  His teacher, speech therapist and other support staff are sweet and listen as I describe these mornings and then promptly make me feel like I'm simply ill equipped as a parent or I'm imagining things.  Because Logan, the 7 year old, is sitting within' a few feet of them behaving like a Prince. 
I get that kids reserve their worse behavior for their parents.  They know we love them unconditionally.  They've heard it enough and have experienced it enough to know they can push us to the brink of insanity but we'll still love them.  But every day???  Without fail??  At age seven?  It's past the point of being ridiculous and has reached the point where I may need therapy to recover from it. 
It has to end right?  I mean... he isn't going to wail inconsolably as we drive him to his first day of college? 
Calgon take me away.  (P.S. You know you're old when you use this phrase and someone looks at you and says, "Calgon?") 

Friday, April 16, 2010

The Climb... (a very short blog)

My personal (self chosen) theme song was written, and is sung by, a seventeen year old girl.  Is that pathetic?  
Or is it pathetic that I had it cranked on my iPod as I danced around my bedroom cleaning?  Singing.  Rather loudly.  Oh well..  at least the bedroom is clean. 

I've stopped crying...

It hit me early this morning.  I haven't cried in over twenty-four hours.  And I don't feel the urge to suddenly cry now that I've made this discovery.  I'm sure there will be more crying.  It's inevitable.  For now, it's not consuming me. 
We've managed to be civil to one another in the last day as well.  No matter what we're each going through internally there's still that sense of familiarity between us.  We catch ourselves doing something that before would have gone unnoticed but is now because it's so normal in the face of what feels like anything but normal. 
Can we live like this indefinitely? I have absolutely no idea.  One day at time.  Baby steps.  It's all I can do. At least I'm not crying every half hour. 

Thursday, April 15, 2010


As I've said I'm a fan of Dr. Phil. I like his no nonsense, no excuses way of approaching a situation. One of this week's episodes was called Crisis In Family Court.

Just earlier this year a young mother tried desperately to protect her son by asking the court to limit her ex's contact with the child to supervised visits. She supplied the judge with detailed evidence that this man was threatening to kill their nine month old baby boy and then himself. There were e-mails and text messages both to the young mother and her mother.

A judge refused to help her. Saying they needed to work it out themselves and in one of the four hearings, actually accused her of fabricating everything. He ordered that the current custody and visitation agreement be upheld forcing this mother to hand her precious baby over to a man who had threatened to kill him.

Ten days after their last day in court her ex held to his word. He shot and killed his son and then, taking the cowards way out, his own. How? HOW does one do that to his own flesh and blood? How does ANYONE do that to a nine month old baby boy????? How do you look into the face of a child, YOUR child, point a gun at them and pull the trigger??? It's unfathomable to me.

And apparently this sort of thing happens more often than we know. During the show they spoke to another mother who's ex-husband had drugged and the killed their 9 and 7 year old sons during a court ordered visit. They listed several other cases as well. All over the country.

In each case the courts had refused to intervene. I'm sorry. WHAT???

This mother had PROOF her ex was making these threats. Numerous pieces of evidence! And yet a judge, bound to uphold the law and ultimately protect the innocent, dismissed these??? The consensus among some of his peers who have reviewed the case feel the Judge never looked at any of the evidence. He couldn't have and ruled the way he did.

The question that comes to my mind immediately... Is this Judge criminally responsible for the death of this baby? You're damn right he is. It makes me so mad when I hear stories like this! The kind of mad that you feel in the pit of your stomach. The kind of mad that makes you want to lash out at someone. I want five minutes alone with this Judge. May he live with overwhelming guilt for the rest of his miserable life.

Monday, April 12, 2010


I was asked to recommend some good summer reading picks by some friends. And I have GOT to think about something other than my marriage for a little while.

Books have always been my escape from reality. For as far back I can remember I've loved to read. When I get into a good groove I can read a book a day. I'm not kidding. Remember, I don't sleep much.

I'll read just about anything from Harry Potter to crime dramas. The only thing I can't get into are what I call "trashy romance novels". You know those books with the buxom beauties and some long haired stud on the front in a passionate embrace? Just can't get into them.

I go in phases where I read a single type of book for a while. I recently came off a Chick Lit phase. I highly recommend Winter Garden by Kristin Hannah. Pretty much anything from her is going to be good. Sophie Kinsella is another fave author. Her newest novel, Twenties Girl, was a definite thumbs up. Emily Giffin's Something Borrowed and Something Blue are both good ones. Read Something Borrowed first. The story begins there. She also has a new book coming out next month called Heart of the Matter.

Then there's the ever popular Jodi Picoult. I don't think I have read a book of hers yet that I didn't like.

I'm on a ghost stories kick right now. Particularly one's was some historical roots. An American Haunting: The Bell Witch is a good one if you're into that kind of thing. I have The Haunting of Hill House in my TBR (to be read) pile. It was originally published in 1959 and was made into a movie several years ago.

I'm searching out new books for my summer reading list so if anyone has any suggestions I'm open to them.

You know it's bad.....

When you text your child to bring you a glass of water when he is on the first floor of the house and you are on the third.

When you wait until you can just barely keep yourself from losing control of your bladder before dragging your ass away from your cave. (Like now.)

You're seriously considering installing a bathroom as well as a small fridge and microwave in your third floor bedroom JUST so you don't have to leave your cave. Ever.

You finally drag yourself away from your cave, venture out into the world and then, as you're driving along, you smell flowers and burst into gut wrenching sobs. (Smells are very powerful memory inducers for me)

You're now forced to turn around and go back to your cave rather than let anyone see you with swollen blood shot eyes.

I am relying heavily on my 15 and 17 year old tonite. I know that's not an ideal solution but I honestly can't function normally at the moment. I'm in the wings keeping an eye on things but the boys are handling the legwork. And hey.. they owe me. I've spent the last seventeen years taking care of their bratty little butts. It's time for some payback.

I just lost ten years of my life..

Kids will do that to you!

Now that the weather has turned nice the kids often walk home from school. Brendan is 12, Sydney is 10, Riley is 9 and Logan is 7. Their elementary school is primarily walkers so there are a plethora of kids around at the end of the day. I still worry until they all come walking in the door.

Today Brendan, Riley and Logan came running in the door and the very first words out of Brendan's mouth were, "Is Sydney home yet???" Ummm... WHAT???? Sydney is supposed to be with them! Brendan claimed that Sydney "ran ahead of them". Ok so then she SHOULD be here if she went AHEAD of them. She wasn't.

Now before I went into panic mode I did I quick look around the house. Not that she could have gotten in without me seeing her but ya' just never know with kids. I once went into full blown mental breakdown because Brendan, then 3, went "missing". Frantic searching of the entire house and there was no sign of him. I was seconds away from dialing 911 when I saw a tiny foot sticking out from under my bed. He'd crawled under there to "hide from Mommy" and had fallen asleep. Needless to say several new gray hairs erupted on my head that day.

A seasoned parent now, I still didn't panic when there was no sign of Sydney in the house. I sent Brendan out to look around for her. I thought maybe she'd gotten sidetracked with some friends. Ten minutes went by and there was still no sign of Sydney or Brendan. NOW I'm starting to panic.

I ordered Riley and Logan into the van and started driving around looking for them. Mind you, we live all of three blocks from the elementary school so it didn't take me long to search the only two routes they could have taken home. No sign of them. Ok full panic mode!!! And I'd been in such a hurry to go looking for them I'd left my cell phone at home.

Now if I'd been thinking straight it would have occurred to me to check IN the school. I wasn't thinking straight. My mind was going places no parent ever wants to go and I had a 9 and 7 year old feeding off my obvious distress asking me over and over "Where are they???".

I raced back to the house, grabbed my cell phone and saw there was a missed call from the school. The panic started to ease a teensy bit. I returned the call and sure enough the school secretary assured me that both Sydney and Brendan were safe and sound and on their way home.

Apparently Brendan had assumed that Sydney had run ahead because he didn't see her outside of the school. Sydney, upon not seeing her brothers, went back into the school to look for them. My God... I think I have a few more gray hairs and the ulcer I'm going to get is just a tad bit closer. Oh my God... my heart is still beating out of my chest!!

I've reached the end of my rope...

I love him with all my heart. But at the moment I don't like him very much.

Apparently I'm supposed to wallow away waiting for him to "decide what he wants". I'm sorry.. pardon my french but.. NO FUCKING WAY. No, no, no and no again. I am not going to sit around in limbo while Mr. Wonderful twiddles his thumbs and plays games with my life. He doesn't even know if he WANTS things to be "fixed"!!! So I'm supposed to hang around like some lovesick teenager while he decides if he even wants to TRY and work it out?? (Mind you I've been in this limbo for MONTHS!) Again... NO FUCKING WAY. I'm done. Today. Right now. As of this moment my marriage is nothing more than a piece of paper.

I'm 40 years old and I get to start all over again. Oh yay me.

Sunday, April 11, 2010


I can't even stand to be in the same room with him. I love him. I do. There's no question about it. But he is a blithering idiot if he thinks I'm going to live this way forever.

HE was the one who decided HE wasn't sure about our marriage. HE was the one who thought we needed to be "out of each others hair". So we came to an agreement about how we were going to "live". Basically when he's here I either leave the house or I stay in my sanctuary. My bedroom. Note I say "my" bedroom. Because God knows I haven't shared a bed with him in months.

Now since I need to be "out of his hair" while he's here this means that WHEN HE IS HERE a lot of the household responsibilities fall on his soldiers. When he's here. Which let's face isn't very much. He works 12-16 hours a day, Monday through Friday. And I'm not saying he doesn't deserve credit for working hard but dammit I work hard too! And I don't a get paid for it.

So it's the weekend. I've been in my room most the day. To hear him tell it he can handle everything I do and what he does AND he can do it better. Really?? Well he dropped the ball today. It's now 10:15 PM and the 7, 9 and 10 year old are JUST going to bed. The nine year old JUST did his homework a half hour ago. I'm sorry but these things should have been done HOURS ago!!! His excuse. "I didn't know he had homework." Seriously??? DID YOU ASK????????? Of course he didn't. Because he doesn't think about these things!!

Oh he'll spout off about what a wonderful Dad he is. And he is. When it comes to playing and doing the fun things. But when it comes to the work? The responsibilities?? He's CLUELESS!!! The man doesn't even know what clothing belongs to which kid. Except Sydney's. But hello!! She's the only girl. Her clothes are distinctive.

Ask him when a doctor's appointment is, when Syd has cheerleading practice, what time the kids have to be at CCD and he has NO CLUE. The kids have been going to CCD since SEPTEMBER. Yet this morning he still needed to ask me what time Sydney and Brendan needed to be there. NINE O'CLOCK!!!!!! The same time they've had to be there every other Sunday morning for the last seven months!

Look I'm not saying I'm perfect. I'm the first person to stand up and admit I am NOT perfect. No one is. All I'm saying is that in the last several months this man has made me feel like every single thing wrong in our marriage is my fault. BULL. SHIT.

It takes two to tango sweetheart and there's plenty of blame to go around.

What if...

What if it can't be fixed? What if we've reached the point of no return?

How long can we live like this? Co-existing, not connecting on even the most simple level. We don't sleep together. We don't eat together. We don't DO anything together.

I'm becoming uncomfortable in my own home. I can't wait until Monday mornings when he leaves for work. I feel this huge sense of relief. Not because I don't want to be near him but because being near him, knowing that he's so unsure right now about us, hurts too much.

The one person I could always depend on to be my rock isn't there anymore. I feel like I'm living with a ghost.

At what point do we step back and say, "We've done all we could but it's just not enough.". And what happens after that?

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Grey's Anatomy

I know.. WHAT does Grey's have to do with my marriage? Look folks, I can't focus on my marriage 100% of the time. My mind wanders quite a bit despite my crumbling existence.

Odd isn't it? No matter what happens.. life goes on. So.. Grey's Anatomy.

I'd wanted to watch this show regularly when it debuted. I never got around to it. So with the help of the innovative concept called Netflix I have been watching it season by season via DVD and instant on line viewing. (What DID we do before the technology explosion??)

I have fast become hooked. Though I do have a few thoughts.

Meredith. Ok enough already. She's done the whole "I have Daddy issues and therefore am a commitment-phobe.", routine ad nauseam and it is SO old. I wish she'd just marry Derek and get it over with.

Christina. Can you say selfish bitch?? Although it looks like she may be gaining some insight on how to be an amazing surgeon and remain human.

Izzy. God give me strength. I want to slap her ten times an episode. Get off your high horse and come back down to earth blondie.

George. I have no words. WHAT is it about him that has/had THREE hot chicks clamoring to get in his pants? He's... George...

Alex. Hot. Definitely the stuff fantasies are made of. But way too damaged for my blood.

Derek/McDreamy. OMG! Hello!! Meredith just marry the guy or I'm gonna!

McSteamy/Mark. Gag. You ain't all that and you do look sort of like my best friends father. Back in the day.

Addison. I love to hate you. Sometimes I catch myself just loving you. But I still wanted Derek to pick Meredith.

Lexi. I'm not sure where she falls at this point. So far.. I kind of like her.

I'm about one quarter of the way through Season 5 so I'm getting close to being "caught up". I'm going to work on catching up with Brothers and Sisters next followed by Bones.

If ya' haven't figured it out I'm a TV junkie. Summer is coming. Summer means a whole lot of my favorite shows are going to be in reruns. I don't like reruns. I'm a night owl. I rely on the recorded programs on the DVR to keep me entertained when the rest of the world is asleep.

Enter Netflix. While the networks are broadcasting reruns and probably a lot of dumb reality shows I'll be cruisin' my way through whole seasons of unwatched programming via DVD's from Netflix.

After midnight of course.


...if she needed me tomorrow I'd drop everything and be at her side. I wouldn't hesitate for a nanosecond. That's how deep our bond ran.

Heavenly Father full of grace,
Bless my boyfriend's foxy face.
Bless his little nose and toes,
And keep him safe wherever he goes.
Bless his eyes that shine like stars,
And make him love me more than cars.
Bless his lips I love to quench,
Bless his tongue I love to French.
Bless his hair that always curls,
And keep him safe from other girls.
Bless his hands so big and strong,
But keep them Lord where they belong.
Lord give me strength and you know why.
Believe me Lord he isn't shy.
They call us the perfect pair,
He'll never know how much I care.
I love him Lord but please don't tell,
If Mom finds out she'll give us hell.
He has his faults and you know why
Bless him Lord cause he's my guy.

It's this corny prayer that brought us together in the first place. We were both 13. Which, looking back, was the beginning of so much for me. My family was moving out of the neighborhood I'd grown up in.

It was a modest neighborhood. Solid, middle class working families. Well kept, neat homes with a predominance of Italian blood running through them. My mother wanted more. Make no mistake about it. My mother was the driving force behind this upheaval of our lives.

The neighborhood we moved into was respite with large colonial style homes. A cookie cutter neighborhood. There were maybe four to five different styles of homes. But they all held the same message. Upper middle class. Something my mother loved. I could have cared less. I wanted to be in our old house, in my old room.

In my ever so humble opinion it was the single most influential move on the rest of all of our lives. And not necessarily in a good way. The first several years we all basked in our newfound role on the social ladder. Or at least my mother did. The rest of us began a journey through our own personal hell.

High school wasn't this wonderful, exuberant youthful time for me. I hated high school. Nothing short of divine intervention could get me to go back in time and spend a single day in high school again. Even then it would take some serious bribery.

There were a few things in that time period that I DO cherish however. "Nee" is one of them. From the moment she showed me the prayer we formed a friendship that I thought would stand the test of time. And it did for twenty three years. Renee was my best friend. She was the person I always went to when I needed someone. She was the first person I thought to share good news with. She knew, before my husband did, that I was pregnant. She was the maid of honor at my wedding and she is my third child's Godmother. She knew everything there was to know about me. The good and the bad.

Until four years ago. When somehow, and I'm still not 100% sure how, somehow it all came to a crashing end. I could say that we simply grew apart. And maybe in a way we did. Our lives were going in two different directions. Our families were different. It seemed we suddenly had very little in common.

I'm more inclined to believe that even the smallest of things can crack the foundation of even the best of friendships. A situation, that may not even be directly related to two people, can have far reaching effects on them. Consequences can result that no one ever saw coming.

If I could go back would I change anything? I believe, down to my very core, that regret is a useless emotion. A pound of it won't make an ounce of difference. You can't undo the past.

I firmly believe that every experience, good and bad, has made me who I am today. I'm not perfect. I still have a lot to learn. But I'm not without successes in life. They may not be the sorts of successes others brag about. But they're mine.

So no.. I don't think I would go back and do anything differently. But like I said... if she needed me tomorrow I'd drop everything and be at her side.

"People come into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Embrace all equally."

Friday, April 9, 2010


A normal person would be fired up, ready to kick some teenage butt right now. I'm laughing. Because there's nothing else to do that will make it any better. At least laughing makes me feel good.

No one is hurt (yet) or dying. There's a roof over my head. My children are relatively normal and healthy. And our family cell phone bill for the month? $1000. Plus. No. I'm not kidding.

Now our cell plan, with five lines, IS pricey every month. But it ain't that pricey. (I'm using ain't to convey tone here, I'm well aware that it isn't proper English.)

When I first saw that number glaring at me from the monitor I was sure I must be seeing things. It took a minute before it sunk in that "yep.. my bill is over $1000".

I immediately called AT&T and talked to a sweet girl named Alyssa. Now I have to take some blame here and I admitted that to her. The offending phone belongs to my son. Now I know how STUPID this is going to sound. I do NOT need to be told just how stupid this is. And that I know better. I know.

Cody, the eldest son, "lost" his phone. But he "lost" it somewhere in the house. He swore this to us. That was before Christmas. There have been no odd charges on our bill in the months leading until now. So I assumed that yes, his phone was somewhere in this house. Probably in that hell hole he calls a bedroom. A room I do not enter unless it's a matter of life or death. And even then I might consider my options carefully. (I'm kidding!!!)

Apparently the phone is not in the house. Because someone has been wracking up international usage charges. To the tune of over $800. Omg... I think I'm going to be ill. No. No. I'm going to laugh. The nice lady at the phone company is working with me to handle this. One way or another it will be resolved.

The question is.. how much blame do I lay at Cody's feet?? He DID tell me the phone was lost. I could have suspended the service to the phone right then and there. But I chose not to, believing the phone was in the house.

Tough call...

I'm still his wife..

I signed onto AOL this morning to see if I had any new, exciting e-mails to read. A foreign diplomat wants to give me a million dollars and Viagra is the answer to all my prayers. So much for new and exciting.

I did however receive a CBS Breaking News Alert. Apparently, in an incident of road rage, a man was shot and wounded on 422 this morning. My husband drives Rt. 422 every morning. Without hesitation I called him to make sure he was ok.

I'm not happy with him, he is making my life more difficult than it needs to be but he is still my husband.

**Let me clarify.. a "driver" was shot according to the article. They didn't specify a man or a woman:o) The point is still the same. :o)

Country music...

Have I mentioned I love country music? Me. I grew up in the Philly burbs listening to hip hop and pop. I love country music. Who'd have thunk it...

My baptism into country, (some may call it pop country) was my discovery of Kenny Chesney. He'd been around for awhile but I'd never noticed him. Then I started hearing about him. Repeatedly over the course of several weeks, possibly a couple of months, I heard several Mom friends getting downright giggly over him. I finally decided to see what all the fuss was. Oh my... hello!

If the pecks and six pack abs aren't enough to leave you weak in the knees the crooning voice will render you a puddle. Oh my god... his voice could melt butter. Seriously ladies... if you've never heard him sing, you must. Now imagine that voice... in a completely different context and environment.

Need I say more...

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Starting fresh...

We had a family meeting tonite. It was long overdue. The kids, sensing something is amiss, have been using it to their advantage. Neither my husband nor I have really been "on our game" lately.

So we sat everyone down around the dining room table and made a few announcements. Some new rules are being implemented and some old ones are being enforced with renewed purpose.

No one was thrilled with the new rules. The seventeen year old managed to sound belligerent and insulted all on one fell swoop. The fifteen year old sat there stoically glaring at me through his hair. Our tweens (10 and 12) alternated between whining and looking for all the world like they'd just been told they had to give up their tongue. I'm not sure the 9 and 7 year old truly grasped the concept. But it's a starting point.

I seem to be at the beginning of a lot of things these days. I always thought that as my kids grew up I'd figure it all out making the second set easier than the first set. Oh how wrong I was. Each day is a new beginning and a step further on a journey. Each kid brings with them a new set of issues into every stage of their lives.

The world is a different place than it was when I was a kid. Or maybe I was naive and sheltered or just oblivious to anything beyond my own little reality. I don't know. But I don't remember it being THIS hard to be a kid and a teenager. I don't remember school shootings and bullying taken to the extreme and then broadcast for the whole world to see on YouTube. I do remember a few bomb threats and the occasional fist fight that never got to out of control before an adult stepped in.

I watch the news or read an on line article outlining some new way kids have discovered to torment one another and have to ask myself, 'What the HELL are we doing to our kids?????" Someone, somewhere, is screwing up. Big time." There can be no other explanation. Children come into the world as a blank slate. It's supposed to be our job to ensure they grow up into happy, healthy, productive members of society.

Um.. correct me if I'm wrong but... I don't think we're doing such a bang up job.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

The little things...

What other guy besides my husband could I ask to go to a store and buy tampons for me? What other guy besides my husband do I REALLY want seeing me first thing in the morning? What other guy do I really want to get naked with besides my husband?? (Six kids does not do a body good).

It's the little things I'd miss the most. Someone to lean on when things get rough, some one to laugh with when things are good and someone who doesn't care if I've shaved my legs or not, he just wants to have sex. Because what self respecting Mother of six has time to shave her legs?? Finding the time to take a shower is difficult enough. Cut me some slack.

There's no one else in the world, other than my husband, that I trust to see me at my very worse and still love me. I assure you.. a few of you may think you've seen me at my very worse, you haven't. I promise you. My very worse is reserved for the guy who is supposed to love me until death do us part.

"We always hurt the one's we love." It's a stupid cliche' but it rings true. I read an article recently that you should always take the side of your spouse over your family. Because they'll always be your family. They can't divorce you. Your spouse can.

Sounds simple enough. But even I can admit in the heat of the moment, when you're pissed off at the world, God AND your spouse it's not always easy to remember the little things.

It's not supposed to be easy...

Marriage is work. Happily ever after IS obtainable. If you lower your expectations and realize that fairy tales aren't real.

I think we all expect to get married and then sit back and it'll just happen. WRONG. If you sit back and let "it" just happen. You're asking for trouble. It doesn't have to be complicated however.

My Aunt said something in a clip on our wedding video. Yes, I got married in the stone ages and our wedding is relegated to an old video tape. Someday I'll transfer it to DVD or Blue Ray. Or I'll burn it in effigy when the threads holding my marriage together finally break. I'm kidding. I have more faith in my marriage than that.

Anyway... my Aunt gave us this piece of advice. "Keep your eyes wide open before marriage. And half closed after." It makes more sense to me now. Almost seventeen years later.

Pick your battles. Or as Dr. Phil says, choose your deal breakers. (Yes I watch Dr. Phil. So sue me.) What are you and AREN'T you willing to live with. Look, everyone has quirks. Little odd things they do for their own comfort, out of habit or superstition. I still, at forty years old, make a wish every time I notice it's 11:11. I find comfort in books and rocking chairs. And I think Christmas music at the wrong time of year can raise your spirits.

I cry at the drop of a pin. Sad movies, TV shows and songs can leave me sobbing. I get it from my Dad. The man cries over EVERYTHING. I admit. being over emotional can be tiresome to others sometimes. But it's me. It's something in the very core of who I am. I can control it to some extent. But give me a break. I'm Italian. We're prone to the dramatic. My Dad can't use this excuse. He's German.

Marriage is work. You have to give a little to get a little. Dr. Phil says we should all wake up each morning and think to ourselves. "What can I do today to make my spouse/significant-other happy?" Ok, that may be pushing it a little. Besides, my husband swears all he thinks about all day is what he can NOT do to NOT piss me off. I'm not that bad!! Seriously.

You'd think after over eighteen years together he'd have figured me out by now. My expectations are so simple and basic. I don't want a lot. I'm happy with the simplest of things. It's not that damn complicated. But he just doesn't get it.

He's a man. I've referred to Bill Engvall before. I love this guy's stand up routines. Even the one's I've seen again and again have me laughing so hard I cry every time I watch them. It's so real. He gets into the things that really happen day to day between married people. And makes them funny. Basically he's my husband.

I'm not comparing my husband to a joke. Before anyone gets a bee in their bonnet I'm really NOT making fun of him. He's a guy. He thinks differently than me. We've been hearing it for generations. Men and women are different. We process information differently. We communicate differently. Our needs, while similar in some areas, are completely different.

That's the first step, I think, in finding a way to a happy marriage. Acknowledging that you are both different and going from there.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Morning babble..

Remember when you were a kid and your Mom would wake you up for school? You'd beg and plead to be allowed to stay home sick? (You didn't have to actually BE sick of course). Remember how good it felt when she said yes (it happened rarely in my house) and you got to go back to sleep?? THAT'S the feeling I get when I send the kids off to school and return to an EMPTY house. Now don't anybody go gettin' their panties in a bunch...

I love my kids. I ADORE my kids. My kids are the reason I was born and the reason I get up, everyday, and try all over again. However, I have six of the little mutant creatures. They're school day is the only thing standing between me and an extended stay in a padded cell.

Not that my day is all that exciting. Laundry, cleaning, bottle caps, bows, layouts. Whatever I can find to fill the day. It's the simple fact that I can do it in SILENCE.

No one is going to interrupt me to break up yet another sibling argument. No one is going to come screaming into my bedroom, so loudly and horrifically I'm expecting to see mass quantities of blood or at least some protruding bone. Instead I'm met with a red faced 7 year old who saw a bee in the bathroom.

It will be MONTHS now before the child will enter that bathroom without first thoroughly inspecting it for bees and other insects. The kids hates bugs. HATES them.

So yes, I do feel a sense of relief when they're all safely in school. Particularly today. With all that is going on right now I NEED this time to regroup and brace myself for whatever is coming next.

We smiled at each other this morning. My husband and I. It was done tentatively on both sides. Almost as if we weren't sure if smiling was allowed. It's not much. It's the most meaningful interaction we've had in five days. And it's a start. Rome wasn't built in a day.

Have I mentioned that patience isn't one of my stronger personality traits?

Insomnia sucks..

My iPod ear buds firmly are placed in my ears. There's some tune I currently find inspirational, playing at full volume. I did this is as a kid too. But with a HUGE set of ear phones compliments of my Dad and an old stereo with a "turntable". My parents both told me I'd go deaf one day.

They weren't without reason for concern. While I still have my hearing, calling it good hearing, is a bit of a stretch. I need TV's and iPods on at top volume just to hear the words. I consider this a small price to pay for my self created oblivion.

When I'm into my "music zone". The world disappears around me. It's me and my thoughts alone. (Ironically, ideas for writing often come to me at these moments.) I can tune everything else out.

Most of the time this gets me through the REALLY rough patches. I pace, sometimes dance, stand at the window and stare out dramatically. There's a little drama queen in every woman. Some will admit it without a care. Others deny it because there's such a stigmatism attached to it. Me? I don't care who knows. I can be a drama queen sometimes. Sue me.

It's a skill I picked up and honed as the only daughter of a man who personifies the Daddy's Little Girl kind of Dad. I had him wrapped by the time I was able to speak. And I used my penchant for the dramatic to keep him wrapped. A few bats of my eyelashes, some pouting, giving him the cold shoulder and the man was lifting the two week grounding he'd given me the week before and sending me on my way. What can I say? I was spoiled as a child.

I was sheltered as a child as well. Which probably accounts for my need to be alone on a regular basis. I'm not saying I didn't have friends. I did and I did things with them. But I was always kept on a short leash by my parents. Which oddly enough didn't stop me from doing some really stupid, DANGEORUS, things as a teenager. I think the sheer force of being as naive as I was is all that kept me safe from harm. Because I should be dead considering something of the things I got away with back then.

Live and learn.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Getting personal...

By today's standards, I was sexually assaulted twice between the age of 12 and 17.

I don't say this to shock anyone. Or invoke pity. It's simply a fact. At the time the phrase "sexual assault" wasn't really a part of my vocabulary. I considered it a guy being a jerk. I still, and I'm forty now, consider it a guy being a jerk. And I'm fine.

When I was twelve going on thirteen I had a crush on a neighborhood boy. His name isn't important. He was 13, maybe 14, and in my 12 year old mind he was a God. And I wasn't good at keeping secrets back then.

He figured it out, cornered me behind an office building that was all but empty on weekends, and.. went exploring to put it nicely. No clothing was removed but he still managed to do enough touching and kissing to freak me out. I don't remember walking away. I don't even remember much about the time before or after that. I just remember that. So I guess you could say it left an indelible mark on me.

When I was 16 another, older guy cornered me in a room locked room. I'm not going to get any more specific than that. He did what he did. In some ways, I let him. I was too shocked to protest let alone process what was happening. I wasn't physically harmed in anyway but I was obviously emotionally scarred.

The latter guy did apologize to me some months later. It was a lame apology. It didn't sound sincere. But I figured he at least knew other people would find what he did wrong, even if he didn't necessarily think so. It was something.

The point I'm trying to make (more to myself than you) is that I survived those things. I'll survive this. Whatever this is. In the end I may not get what I want but I will get what I need. Often two very different things. As much as I hate to admit it. Because that generally means I'm wrong. And in my warped, delusional daydreams I'm never wrong.

Seeking happily ever after...

Is there such a thing as happily ever after? Or is it that we are never happy with what we have. We always want more. More things. More money. More sex. More love. More, more, more.. When do we finally have enough?

When WE believe we do. When WE finally realize that it really doesn't matter if I have more or less than The Jones'. And chances are The Jones' really AREN'T worried about what I have or don't have.

There's a saying.. "We would worry less about what others think of us if we realized how seldom they do." Honestly folks.. your family, your neighbors, friends, acquaintances? They really aren't spending countless hours thinking about you and your issues. I know I'm not. I have enough of my own issues to worry about. You're on your own figuring out the solutions to yours.

So I'm going to worry less about what people think of me and more about what I think. I have to "fix me" before I can hope to figure out what steps to take in my marriage. And the only opinion, right now, at this moment, that I need to consider is my own. Not that I'm not open to constructive advice and criticism. I'll listen. Carefully. And then I'll decide whether to take it or not.

I've spent so many years ALWAYS worried about what other people think. It was probably the single biggest factor in every decision I've ever made. But to be perfectly honest with you I really DON'T care what anyone else thinks. I just thought I was supposed too care. So I did. To the extreme.

I'm not saying I should do whatever I want whenever I want no matter who may get hurt along the way. That's just cruel and sadistic. I am saying, that if something is best for me, REALLY best for me, it won't cause someone undue harm along the way. In the long run it will all work out.

At least that's what they keep telling me. I have my doubts. But I'm trying to keep an open mind here.

The Mask...

I wear it every day. The confident, competent, totally put together Super Mom mask. I get what NEEDS to be done, done. No one knows that on the inside I'm fighting a war and that I forgot to put a bra on this morning. So the girls are swinging free under my sweatshirt.

I don't know how to be me without my husband. He's been my other half for almost half of my life. I'm not sure how to be "just Michelle". Not "Michelle and Skip" or "Skip and Michelle" depending on which side of the family is talking.

"Familiarity breeds contempt."
Prov. People do not respect someone they know well enough to know his or her faults.

I think this may be the root of our problem. We both know each others faults so well that we've lost all respect for each other. Granted, we're also well aware of each others strengths and abilities. But they've come to pale in comparison to our faults.

Now I tend to be the kind of person who freely admits to my own faults. Eventually. My husband? Well... at the moment I think he's in his "I can do no wrong" mindset. Unable (or just unwilling) to see past his own grandeur. He's completely focused on MY shortcomings. Shortcomings that are pretty much a part of my genetic make up. I can control them to some extent but, being only human, I AM going to falter sometimes.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Easter Sunday...

I don't really like Easter. I don't dislike it. I just don't get excited about it.

There are now POUNDS of chocolate and other sugar concoctions in my house. It's all screaming my name. Loudly. Hershey's Kisses with butter cream filling. oh my god... a tiny morsel of heaven. If I'm not careful I will consume at least a whole bag's worth by myself. Today. Reason number one to meet Easter with trepidation.

Reason number two. I'm not sure I can cope with any drama today. With my Mom around, drama is always a possibility.

Add a flailing marriage into a holiday and there's bound to be some awkwardness and tension. Skip and I are walking on eggs shells with each other. Neither one of us willing to tip the unstable boat one way or another. We've found an even keel for the weekend and we're doing nothing that might jeopardize it.

I just need to get through the next ten hours or so and I'll be ok. If you believe in God please make contact now.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

My own personal hell...

I can only hope my parents never read this. I love them. I truly do. But I have to be honest... I approach every family gathering with deep dread. My Mom and I in the same room, either one of us in a foul mood (which is a high probability considering my Mother), can quickly become volatile.

God forgive me.. I really do love them. But... if my Mom is in one of her moods. Look out. The day is going to be silently tension filled until you want to run from the room screaming or an argument is going to ensue and someone is going to be walking out. Ah, family drama. I loathe it. I avoid it like the plague.

Unfortunately it can't be avoided on a major holiday. It's a rule. Well in my father's book anyway. I'm daddy's little girl. I'll ALWAYS be daddy's little girl. I know how much it means to my Dad to spend time with his Grandchildren. And my Mom too. So I accommodate them.

It's always on my turf. The place I'm most comfortable in. It's a control thing. There. I admit it. I like to control things. One might even say I border on being a control freak. Introduce me to someone who doesn't have, in some area of their life, control issues? I may have a few more issues than the next guy but I'm nowhere near being in need of intensive therapy.


Time for my happy face...

I get to go help with the egg decorating. Blah. I know, I know.. it's for the kids. At least the three little one's. Cody, Josh and even Brendan find the activity the equivalent of what I would have called lame. I tolerate the activity for the sake of whichever children want to participate. Brendan is a toss up. He may. He may not.

Wish me luck and pray that I don't give into the incredible urge to smash a few RAW eggs into my husband's face. (Yes, I'm a teensy bit PEEVED at him right now.)


I think I need a vacation. Warm (but not too warm), breezy, sunny.. Somewhere on a beach. A private island! Just me, my lap top, my books and some Icy Tea. I’d spend my days on the beach staring out to see pondering the meaning of life and my marriage. I’ll spend my nights blogging ad nauseam about it until my readers are so sick of me they want to gouge their eyes out so they don’t have to see what I come up with next.

No worries… your eyes are safe. I have a better chance of meeting God than I have of getting a vacation all by myself. I am, however, prone sleepless nights during which I pass the time by blogging. Sometimes more than once a night.

I think my husband is annoyed with me. I’ve been butt ass lazy all day. Guess what? I don’t care what he feels right now. I don’t say that with anger and cruelty. It is what it is. Today, at this moment, I’m not worried about what he thinks, feels or wants. I know what I need to do and when it needs to be done by and it’ll get done. On my timetable. Ok so maybe there is a little force behind my mood. But I’m dealing with it.

I did manage to do some last minute Easter shopping. Yay me. I took the long way because I enjoy driving. I prefer to do it at night when there’s less traffic. But an afternoon mini drive did me wonders. I cranked up the tunes, rolled the windows down and sang at the top of my lungs. I probably looked like an idiot to other drivers on the road. Oh well.. It’s not like I’ll ever meet any of them.

I know… I’m babbling.. But my marriage is falling apart!! And I have NO IDEA how to fix it. I don’t have the emotional energy to figure it out. So I’m practicing my ignoring technique. I mean what else can I do?? Talking isn’t going to happen. He simply won’t. IF I push the issue we end up fighting 99.9% of time. I’m tired of fighting. So I choose to step back and let him have at it. He needs to figure out what he wants and let me know. I can’t do it for him.

That’s hard for me to admit. I like to fix things… and people. I live with this delusional notion that I can change things and people’s lives in a meaningful way. The truth is it’s easier to fix other people’s problems because I’m not emotionally attached to them. I have no idea how to change my own life in a meaningful way so I take on pet projects. I don’t do it with malice or conceit. I do it because I honestly like the feeling I get from helping someone. I suppose on some level that’s a little bit selfish… I mean well.

It all happened so fast...

I can admit now that we were far too young to get married. At least I was. I was only 22 when I found out I was pregnant with our oldest son. Less than 5 months after we'd started dating. We were both thrilled, if not a little terrified. We waited until our son was 4 months old to get married. A reality that didn't bode for my devoutly religious extended family but they got used the idea and have since forgiveness us for "having a baby out of wedlock".

So we had a baby and we got married. And proceeded to have five more babies in the next nine years. I was in some stage of pregnancy every other summer. There was never a moment to breath. Forget any time to be a couple. Obviously we managed to engage in some couple activities hence the six children. When all you seem to have in common is sex and kids well... sooner or later someone is going to become disenchanted with the whole happily ever after thing.

Now here we are... soon to celebrate our 17th wedding anniversary and both of us are at odds with ourselves and our marriage. With no idea how to fix it or if it's even worth trying.

I'm a talker...

Skip isn't a talker. Have ya' ever watched any of Bill Engval's stand ups? Skip is the husband that Bill Engval personifies in his comedy. He doesn't want to talk. He works it all out internally. I am the polar opposite. I have to beat a dead horse before I reach a conclusion in my head.

I NEED to talk. If I hold it all in the end result is an explosion of nuclear proportions. I'm a faulty pressure cooker. I'm GOING to blow. IF I hold it all in.

So since I can't "talk" to my husband I'm blogging. Lucky you. I'm warning you I may not always make sense, you're bound to disagree with me at some point and I'm prone to mindless rambling.

Consider yourselves vital implements for keeping me from losing what little mind I have left.

Just a little heads up...

It's been a long time since I've blogged regularly. So you'll have to bear with me.. I'm rusty.

I think I'm numb right now. I don't feel much of anything. I don't even know how to process it all. So I can't write a lot about it.

Eventually the damn will break and it will come in a rush of blog after blog that even my best of friends will tire of. I'm just sayin'.. it's a friendly warning that eventually I'm going to get on your nerves.

I get on my own nerves sometimes. So I can relate.

Friday, April 2, 2010


The tone of my blog is about to change. For once I'm not holding anything back. It will all be real with no sugar coating.

I feel like I'm at the beginning of journey. I have no idea where I'm going nor where I will end up. I expect bumps and bruises along the way. I do know, one way or another I will reach the end in one piece, strong and exactly where I need to be.

My marriage is falling apart at it's seams with mere threads are holding it together at this point. The threads of obligation and necessity. Standing alone neither of them are very conducive to a happy marriage. My husband and I barely look at one another, let alone talk. I'm a talker. He isn't. Since communication is vital to any relationship this disparity between us is crippling any attempt to fix things. So I've decided to take a step back. We need some metaphorical space between us. I love him. I'm in love with him most days. But he's in a place where he's unhappy and unsure if he wants to be married to me anymore. There.. I said it. Out loud. For other people to see. I've been keeping it to myself because saying it makes it real.

I've been bottling everything up for months and I can't take it anymore. It's eating me up inside. I need to let it out. Even if only my closest friends read this I will be sharing this burden with other people. I can't shoulder it alone anymore.

I'm not an open person with very many people. I have a very small, close knit group of friends. I call them my inner circle. So at times this blog may come across as it's not intended too. I apologize in advance for this. But I expect this to be a hard journey possibly with an outcome I don't think I want...