Girls Night

I'm babysitting tonite. My best friend Deb's girls. Ashley is fourteen and Shannon is eight. I brought my daughter, Sydney with me as well. She's ten.

We went to MikkiD's for dinner and then stopped at Michael's to pick up some adhesive refills for our scrapbooking adventures.

We never got to scrapbooking though. I'd brought along my bottle caps and jewelry making "stuff"with me. I figured I'd work on those when the girls went to bed. They however found the prospect of making bottle cap necklaces much more interesting. Before I knew it they'd each picked out a dozen or more bottle caps that they wanted made into necklaces.

I ended up putting together thirty-five bottle cap/ribbon necklaces. Only I left my split ring tool at home. So I did this with my fingers. My fingers are now numb. :) I do have to say the girls did help a bit. But the split rings proved to be a little too difficult. Ashley eventually managed a few though.

We also listened to music, talked, danced around, talked some more and Ashley thought it a good idea to make up business cards for me so when she gives her friends their necklaces she can give them my card. Industrious kid so I let her have at it. :)

Shannon had me in stitches much of the night. This kid is a PIP! I don't really know the definition of the word pip, though I think it may be in reference to Pippy Longstocking, but I could be wrong. That does occasionally happen. :) Mom and Aunts used to use it all the time so...

Shannon decided I needed knitting lessons. So using one of my knitting needles and an old sock she proceeded to "teach" me how to knit. It was interesting. Later, when I said to her that she was looking a little tired she put one hand on her hip, wagged her finger at me while doing the head bob thing and said, "I've stayed up until midnight before. Annnnd I didn't fall asleep until one o'clock in the morning.". Her tone of voice clearly added.. "so there". Ha! She kills me.

We finished off the night with Auntie Shell agreeing to buy a few (ok a few more than a few) songs via iTunes. I added them to iPods and burned them to CD's and had three happy little campers.

They're in bed now. Though I doubt asleep. I'm sure they're whispering and giggling like little girls do. I told them as long as I didn't hear them and they didn't do it for too long it was ok. It's a slumber party ya' know? :)

We had fun but I am quite ready for some silence and solitude. I'm just not sure if I'll hunker down with a book or spend some time cruisin' the Net.

Hindsight...

One of my husband’s complaints has always been that I’m not social enough. I’m NOT a social butterfly but I don’t necessarily see this as a flaw. I’m not opposed to all social gatherings. I’m just not interested in attending one every single weekend, both Friday and Saturday night. And I’d much prefer a small gathering over a large one. In his family that’s not always possible. Eight kids, eighteen grandchildren, assorted spouses and now one great-grandchild.

But I went to family gatherings in years past even though the sheer number of people often left me feeling a tad overwhelmed. Yes, I stopped going as frequently and eventually for good (HE had a part in SOME of that time mind you!). For various reasons that I see no point in rehashing. I blame no one and everyone. Including myself. Water under the bridge.

The point is, when I was at family gatherings I always felt this undercurrent of tension and hostility towards me. I never felt truly welcome, nor a part of the family. Again I blame no one and everyone.

I can pinpoint at least part of the reason why I perceived things the way I did. And in this instance I AM blaming someone. Him. The buffoon.

Let’s go back to Christmas Eve, 1991. He takes me to meet some of his family. Mind you we’d had our first date a mere three days before this so I barely know him at this point. As we pull up to one sister’s house he turns to me and says, “Now just so you know she can be a real bitch.” Wow.. Yeah.. I’m really looking forward to going in there NOW.

She appeared perfectly normal AND her home was spotless despite having a small baby in the house. My Mother would have approved. I said as much later to him and he said, “Oh you wait..” and kind of chuckled an almost evil chuckle. I have to tell you that single exchange left a lasting impression and tainted my view of her for some time as did the exchange outside of the next sister‘s house.

We pull up to the house and again he turns to me and says, “Ok.. So… she can be a bitch too.” But did point out that she could be a bitch in a classy way and also felt the need to tell me she had some itsy bitsy powder puff of a dog (his word -paraphrased- not mine!) AND that she gave said dog doggie downers. Zoikes!! Yeah, I’m really lookin’ forward to meeting this sister now.

Again… this sister also seemed relatively normal though I did see the aforementioned dog. Who appeared stone cold sober I might add. I did note she WAS classier than… wait… that’s going to piss someone off and I don’t mean to say that the first sister doesn’t have class… let’s say the second sister appeared more refined and leave it at that. If it pisses someone off oh well… my apologies in advance. Anywho… I again told him I didn’t understand his warnings and again got.. “Oh you wait…”, evil chuckle and all.

Did I eventually “see“? Well… let’s just say that every woman has the potential to be a bitch. And every woman will probably need to be a bitch at least a few times in her life. :) Myself included.

So.. THAT is why I lay some of the blame at the Buffoon’s feet.

Ok...

Yeah, so... I started crying before I even typed the first letter of this blog.

Some of you will think that I'm being to generous and that he doesn't deserve this but I'm going to do it anyway.

Yes, right now, my husband is acting like an ass. Yes, he is knowingly hurting me and by his own admission he doesn't necessarily care all that much. (He cares just a little...)

Ok.. I need to push the bitterness away for a minute...

It wasn't always like this. It wasn't all bad. And if he's being honest with himself he'll agree. I doubt he would at this moment but he knows it down deep.

He is not a bad guy. He's making some bad choices in my ever so humble opinion. But he is not inherently bad.

Am I angry with him right now? Oh you better believe it. I'm fired up. I find his current behavior often cruel and malicious.

Beneath it all I still see glimpses of the man I married. It may be over now but at one time we were happy.

So yea, he's being an ass right now. But he's also a good Dad, a good provider and I've always been proud of his accomplishments. Maybe I didn't tell him that enough.

Anyway.... he really ISN'T a monster.. but I'm still hurt and angry.

Hmmm... interesting...

Allegedly the buffoons family have been following my blog. So I have a question for them..

None of you have ever given a damn about me or my kids so why all of a sudden is my life so interesting to you?????

I'm flattered. Truly flattered.

And if you're going to pass information on to my husband I suggest you get the facts straight first. Maybe it'd be a good idea to take notes so you don't screw things up??? Just a thought.

Yes I AM being a bitch and a smart ass.

And btw, some of you need to take a long look in the mirror before you start judging me. If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black... lol.. touche'.

Too drained to think up a witty title...

I don’t like to cry in front of people. It‘s happened. But it’s uncomfortable for me. Let’s start with the fact that I can’t seem to achieve the doe eyed, glowing, tear streaked face found only on Jennifer Anniston in some chick flick. Nor can I achieve gut wrenching sobs in a Oscar winning way. When I cry it’s not a pretty sight. Blotchy face, sinuses overblown, nose running like a faucet , eyes red and swollen darn near shut and the sounds emitting from my mouth sound like what I'm sure a dying cow sounds like. It’s quite frightening actually!

I have always been able to cry to my husband and find comfort in his arms. At least that’s the way it used to be. The one person I knew I could always count on when it really mattered is gone. I don’t mean to say I can’t count on my friends and other family members. I can. But… he has been my rock, my other half, and, I always believed, my soul mate for almost half of my life. I always knew when push came to shove I could lean on him. I don’t know if I remember how to be alone. And I don’t want to remember.

I cry alone most of the time now. I try not to overdo it. I really do. Because I realize it simply plays into the notion drilled into my head as a child that I am a drama queen. I’ll admit I was as a kid and I probably still have a little bit of drama queen in me (show me a woman who doesn’t) that comes out full force every once in awhile. I don’t deny my own faults. If anything I probably point them out too often.

But this really isn’t me being a drama queen. This is me feeling more emotional pain than I have ever felt in my life up until this point. I’d imagined, for lack of a better word, what it would be like if something like this were to happen to us. When we were fighting or having a really rough time, not often. I used to think I’d be able to handle it. I had discussions with my girlfriends about it and was adamant that if it were to happen I would do this, this, this and this… I’d react in a certain way. I had no idea what the hell I was talking about. No idea.

I never considered the true depth of the emotional ache. There are moments, though not as frequent as a few months back, when it takes my breath away. I feel it in every bone and muscle in my body. It really does effect me physically. We all know I’m not sleeping much. I’m not eating right. I think the last time I stepped on the scale I was down a good twelve pounds. Ok, I’ll admit.. I don’t really mind that last one. The point is I am blown away by how much this effin hurts!!!

When I’m not crying (like now, though I was about an hour ago) I can look at the situation somewhat logically. I know what I have to do and I do it. One day at a time. When I’m in the throes of a dramatic sobbing event I feel like I’m spinning out of control. Like I’m never, ever, going to feel good again. I want to crawl into my bed, curl into the fetal position and never move.

I don’t. When I’ve reached that point my logical mind usually kicks in and gives me a firm “Dear God Michelle.. Knock it the hell off!”. And I dry my eyes and go about my business.

What I want to know is when is it going to stop feeling so raw?? I know it’s going to hurt for a long time. But for how long will I have these moments where it feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest and then stomped on for good measure? Because I gotta tell ya’… it’s exhausting.

Sleep...

Everyone keeps telling me I need sleep (and I love you all for it, I really do).. but here's the problem. Sleep means that at some point I have to wake up. Each time I do I have to remember all over again. Because there is still this small, tiny window; not more than a second or two long; when I don't remember that my marriage is over. Even now after all these months it still hurts just as much.

I no longer want my marriage to work. Not really. But that doesn't mean I haven't stopped mourning the end of it. It comes in phases. And yes, I will admit that my raging peri-menopausal hormones play a role in the timing. But I can go days without shedding a single tear. Then something.. a song, a smell, whatever.. something brings it all rushing back into my mind and there's this moment of stark, cold reality... "He doesn't love me anymore...." And the next wave comes.

My head knows this too shall pass. My heart doesn't quite believe it. Right now it feels like I will never be happy again. Again, I know this is stupid. I'm the only one responsible for my own happiness. I know that I will find a way to be happy again. It won't be the life I planned but it will be my life.

Now I just have to get there.

Yes, yes... I'll get a few hours of sleep first.... don't anyone have a cow... :)

It's a little after midnight...

...the diva is still awake. I have to admit that I am somewhat lax about bedtime during the summer. As long as everyone is settled down doing something quietly (watching TV, reading, etc) I'm not going to be a stickler about what time they turn the lights out. The younger kids generally nod off somewhere between 9 and 11.

Sydney is at that in between stage. Not quite a little girl but not a teenager yet. So she sometimes keeps going longer. She's doing her laundry as I type. Hmmm.. laundry at midnight. I wonder where she gets THAT from? Hey who am I to stop her from doing a chore!

However, Miss Thang finds it necessary to prattle on about God knows what at about a mile a minute while she's loading the washer and adding detergent and fabric softener.

I am in agony. I lost a filling some time back. I have an inane fear of dentists. I will avoid them at all costs. I need to be in excruciating, unbearable pain before I will seek one out. I'm not quite there yet. Agony is doable and can be downgraded to bearable with lots of Kanka and Excedrin.

I am not one of those people who wants a lot of attention when I'm hurting. Make sure I have liquid, pain killers and a quiet place to lay my head and I'll be fine all by my lonesome thank you very much.

I bathed my mouth in Kanka, I swallowed a handful (ok two) of Excedrin and now I just want QUIET. But Miss Sydney won't give it to me!!! She has to stop and tell me SOMETHING every time she walks past me. Which is frequently what with trips to the bathroom, the fridge and now to do her laundry. I finally had to tell her.. "Baby girl!!! I love you. God, I love you. But SHUT UP! Mama needs QUIET until the medicine kicks in." She said, "Oops" and crept away.

Only to be back not five minutes later babbling on about what she's going to do when school starts! OMG!!! Seriously???? I gave her my "I will light you ablaze right here" glare and she finally (I think) took the hint. Dear God above. The child is nothing if not persistent. I pity the man who marries her.

Being honest with myself...

I blow a lot of smoke about not giving a rat's ass what anyone thinks. Here's the God's honest bare bones truth... deep down. I care. (to a point)

I try not to let that need to please everyone taint my every decision. I haven't always been successful. I'm a "fixer". I want to fix people and situations and the scary thing is, when I'm in the midst of some new pet project, I absolutely believe I CAN fix anything. God complex??

Every day something happens that chips away at the denial I have surrounded myself with. I admitted, to him, for the first time since this whole soap opera began that maybe, just maybe, I'm not in love with him anymore either. I think I shocked myself more than shocked him. Personally I think he was probably relieved. It let's him off the hook a little.

I never thought I'd reach this point. I didn't want to reach this point. But the heart knows what the heart knows. I will not chase him. I will not try to win him back. I am too old for such juvenile games.

I've been looking at this, for so long, through a cloud of emotion that I haven't been seeing clearly. I'm beginning too now. I don't like what I see.

Just a little late night.. errr... early morning, bitching...

When might my children stop moaning and groaning every time I ask them to do something. It’s not like I’m asking them to do something incredibly difficult. Earlier I asked Brendan to please load the dishwasher. Not unload it first and then load it. Just load it. I‘d already unloaded it.

You’d have thought I asked him to cut his arm off and feed it to the dog. Thankfully I have perfected my “do NOT mess with today” voice and a killer glare that could burn holes into someone So he loaded the dishwasher. Muttering every so often just under his breath. This was and attempt to engage me in a contest of wills. One I’d have won. So I ignored him and saved him the humiliation.

I love my children. I enjoy them. I love spending time with them. I love seeing the world through their eyes. I have cherished every moment of being a stay at home parent… ok… not every moment.. But most of them.

That being said… I need a break!!!!!!!! Not a day or two. A week!!! TWO weeks!!!!! No kids. No husband. And honestly I don’t need a lot to entertain me either. My lap top (and an internet connection), a TV with cable, food, Icy Tea, cigarettes (shut. up.) and maybe a few bottles of wine. Oh.. And of course. BOOKS! I’ll be happier than a pig in shit.

I’m not opposed to a nice sandy beach with blue water, a couple of cute cabana boys to cater to my every whim and a small town within a short distance for emergencies and provisions when necessary as well. But I can live without that if the first set of conditions is met. Poof… and then I woke up. Keep on dreaming Michelle.

I’m sure someone, somewhere is wishing I’d stop whining… bite me. There are other blogs out there.

Wow… can you tell I am PMSing????? Yikes… now back to your regularly scheduled, PLEASANT, blogs….

Oh boy...

It’s started. The tween years have officially come full swing. My little diva was holed up in her room surrounded by poster covered walls with her CD player CRANKED. I was in the kitchen. The room directly below her room. And I could hear every freakin’ word clearly. Time to do what my Dad did to me. Grab a broom, bang on the ceiling with it and holler… “TURN THAT DAMN MUSIC DOWN!!!!!!!!”

Her response was to come down to the kitchen and rummage through the pantry in search of “something good to eat”. Which was apparently not something in the pantry. She finally, grudgingly, settled on a PB and J sandwich. A staple in this house. Personally, though as a child I actually liked the things, I now can’t stomach the smell or site of them let alone take a bite of one. Aside from the sugar in the jam wreaking havoc on my teeth the smell makes me want to gag.

As she was walking towards the fridge for the jam she slid on God knows what (she’s my daughter so for all we know she tripped over her own two feet) and landed flat on her ass. Silence followed in which I tried, desperately, not to erupt into giggles. Sydney, in true drama queen form, collapsed into a puddle of tears as I lost the battle with said giggles.

I know, I know.. I’m awful. But honestly I knew she was ok because there was a delay between her hitting the floor and the tears. And around here, as a family of klutzes, there’s always someone falling on the floor or banging into something. I’ve learned to discern the difference between the “I’m so embarrassed cry.” and the “I’m really in pain cry.”

Further proof that she’s fine.. She is now happily consuming her PB and J watching some mindless Disney Channel tween flick. Completely dry eyed. Imagine that.

Parenthood

My Aunt once told me that nothing will ever bring you more joy and more pain than your children...

Today I was reminded yet again why some animals eat their young.

I just got off the phone with the buffoon. HE had just gotten off the phone with a very nice police officer from Lower Providence Township. It seems my eldest son and his friends decided it would be great fun to loiter outside of the local WaWa at two o’clock in the morning.

The officer was quick to point out that the boys weren’t doing anything wrong and they had only received citations for breaking curfew. They are all under 18. He also said since Cody has never been in trouble with the law before (not anything that stuck that is) that the best course of action will be for him to plead “not guilty” and the judge will likely sentence him to community service and there will possibly be a fine. Which HE will pay.

And my dear son, is in for a rude awakening. He is now under some SERIOUS restrictions. And he WILL find his ass a job within ONE WEEK or I’ll make his life a living hell and he’ll lose even more privileges. While I am grateful they weren’t robbing the joint and I didn’t have to go bail their sorry little tushes out of jail I will not make light of this. He will be held accountable. If I make light of it there may be a next time and it could be worse.

Cody is unaware that I know what happened. This occurred last night/this morning. (Gee, I can’t imagine why he didn’t call me to tell me his wonderful news.) He isn’t home yet. Nicholas (one of the other offenders) is bringing him home sometime tonite. Now I could make a big fuss and go drag his ass home now. But I’d rather lie in wait here. Let him think I know nothing yet. Then spring it on him. Plus I really don’t feel like making the forty-five minutes drive up and back with the price of gas where it is.

PMS makes me more evil than usual… (evil laugh)

Honestly...

How hard is it for people to mind their own effin' business???? Unless I ASK for your opinion of me or my life please don't assume that I am just yearning for you to share said opinions with me. I'm not.

I have a very select group of friends that I call my inner circle. Some are strictly on line connections but I have been connected to them for as many as a dozen years. Some are real life friends whom I see on a regular enough basis.

One would think that something I refer to as my inner circle would require stellar personalities and moral compasses. Eh.. I prefer someone be a good person, trying to live a good life and that they take care of their own business. Aside from that I'm flexible. Oh and did I mention this candidate and I have to click.

Therein lies part of my problem. I don't click with all that many people. AND I am more apt to click with men. There's nothing tawdry or unsavory about that. I simply relate better to men. They're simple and sometimes stupid creatures but they're not going to get pissed off at you because you weight thirty pounds less than they do or you happen to be wearing the same shirt.

So this inner circle. These are the people I trust implicitly. The people I turn to when I need to scream and cry. Or when I want to giggle and laugh. I'm content with my small circle. I don't need a ton of friends. Personally I think too many best friends leads to confrontations and hurt feelings. And sharing too much of yourself with too many people can have far reaching consequences one can't even begin to fathom in the moment.

Apparently I must have, on a subconscious level, led someone who shall remain nameless, to the conclusion that I was interested in their rather harsh opinion of me. Imagine that.

Now I respect everyone's right to their own opinions and beliefs. Even when they pertain to me. But I find it unnecessary to be subjected to these opinions. Particularly from someone who really doesn't know me. So in true sarcastic, humor laced Michelle fashion I calmly informed this person that I really didn't see any reason why I needed to defend myself to her but I'd play along. (I'm paraphrasing and abbreviating here)

Well.. my goodness. I hit a nerve. She responded with venom spewing. If I hadn't been so flummoxed and amused by her behavior I may have been insulted. And maybe I was. Just a teensy bit. So I told her in so many words to shove her opinion up her ass and to have a wonderful night. :)~ (And yes I added the smiley face with the tongue.) May as well maintain a high level of sarcasm for my little buddy.

Sweetie... let me reiterate. Please remove your head from your ass and then stick your baseless opinion of me up there instead.

Finding my way...

I'm making lists again. I've figured out this is one of my coping mechanisms. Making lists is a stress reliever for me. Is that odd??

I have my BTS list started (Back to school)
I have my everyday "To Do" list started

I'm working, once again, on my FlyLady inspired "control journal". This is like the be all and end all of "To Lists". You keep everything in there. I know I can use my cell phone to do in essence the same thing but in this one respect (and maybe one or two others) I am old school. I like writing things down. I like have something tangible in my hands. A cell phone just doesn't cut it.

Don't get me wrong. My cell phone is my life line. If I accidentally leave the house without it I feel naked. If I'm close enough when I discover my faux paus I turn around to go back and get it. This is probably not something I should be bragging about. Our parents and their parents before them survived parenthood without the modern day convenience of cell phones.

I see seven and eight year olds at the end of the school day texting from snazzy fancy cell phones that are nicer than mine. What in Sam Hill does a seven or eight year old need a cell phone for??? Are they often out on their own without a responsible adult?????? Ok the argument could be made that it would come in handy if said child were to find themselves lost in a mall or theme park. But really??? Do they need it IN school?? Where their entire day is policed by teachers and other support personal?? I don't think so. But apparently this opinion makes me uncool.

Wow... it's happened. I have become my parents. The one thing I have fought against my entire life. I have become the parent who knows it all, has no idea what it's like to be a teenager in THIS world and is a blithering idiot in the eyes of their children. Yay me. What an achievement. I know someone, somewhere is thinking "that IS an achievement!!" Please free to tell me that.

I suppose I should consider myself lucky. Unhappy children are generally safe children. Yeah, that came out wrong. Children who are supervised and disciplined accordingly when some transgression has occurred are, generally speaking, more successful than those children who were raised in a permissive environment where the word "no" didn't exist. Wow... that sounds harsh huh? And a tad bit superior. Eh.. I call them like I see them.

This doesn't mean I haven't been known to give into a temper tantrum simply to gain a little peace. As Bill Cosby said in "Bill Cosby: Himself", "Parents aren't interested in justice. Parents just want quiet!!" (I'm paraphrasing) But tell me it isn't true at least some of the time??

Some days I don't care who did what. As long as no one is bleeding, showing exposed bone and I don't smell smoke I just want them all to sit the hell down and BE QUIET for a little while!!!! And if I have to give in to some outrageous demand like a pony as a pet I'm going to give in to it!! Hence the reason we have a small menagerie of animals and have had more than this at one time or another.

We currently have one dog, two cats, a guinea pig and a gecko. We HAVE had in the past five years. Two other dogs, five other cats, two ferrets, two bunnies, two guinea pigs and two turtles. So you see how often I cave into temper tantrums (and sometimes just sweet faces pleading with me). Mind you I only punish myself further since I'M the one who primarily cares for all the fur kids. Imagine that.

I've created a monster...

The diva is home. The buffoon took her and her two younger brothers out for the day. Well.. the diva saw that I'd been busy at working sorting crafty stuff and thought she would help. She disappeared for a few minutes and then came walking back into the kitchen looking for all the world like the Chesire cat, with her arms full of more stuff. "Look Mommy.. MORE scrap stuff!!" Me: "Oh honey...", pained grin, "Thank you so much...". (Someone shoot me now!)

I have no idea where the hell I am going to store this crap so I can actually use it without creating a mess each and every time I want to do something crafty. I need a bigger house. With one WHOLE room I can devote to all things crafty. I don't think that's a lot to ask. Is it?

The diva is back... staring at me with that expectant look on her face. She thinks we're going to scrap NOW. Umm.. no. It's after 10 PM. I have a boatload of laundry to do and I have to empty the kitchen of the craft paraphernalia so that it can actually function as a kitchen tomorrow.

Remind me why I started this project again? And why, in the name of all that is good and holy, did I introduce my daughter to scrapbooking???? :)~

I am on a mission...

...did anyone else just hear the theme song from Jaws????

I have no idea what I was thinking when I embarked on this mission. I decided, rather on a whim, that I simply HAD to organize all of my "crafty stuff". I'm cursing my previous brilliance.

Yeah... wow... I had NO IDEA how much I really had. And the scary thing is I KNOW there's more of it all over the house. Hidden in baskets, boxes, plastic bins, etc. I don't even want to THINK about the amount of money that went into this stuff. Gulp.

So.. my mission. Sort, organize, PUT AWAY. Create a space SOMEWHERE that I can sit comfortably and create in. That last one may be a pipe dream but we'll see. I MUST sell SOME of this stuff via eBay. I have things I will never use. I have things that if pressed I couldn't tell you when or where I obtained them. I am a self admitted, certifiable craft addict. They say the first step is admitting you have a problem.

I have surrounding me at this very moment. (and remember this doesn't include the above mentioned hidden stash) scrapbooking stuff (and THIS encompasses a variety of items), bottle cap stuff (again more than one item), bow stuff, knitting stuff, crocheting stuff, assorted kid crafts... need I say more. So tonite it's time to put together some "lots" of goodies and get listin' on eBay.

No. I am NOT selling my Cricut Expression nor any of my carts. :) I said I was on a mission not that I wanted to rip my heart out.

I WILL have some bow goodies for sure and anything else I can conjure up.

Daddy Update...

Mortality stares ya' in the face when you realize your parents won't be hear forever.

My Dad is in the hospital again. He's been there since Friday. He had an episode at work Thursday evening. He should NOT have been at work but he is a STUBBORN man. (That's where I get it from..) He drove himself home and probably shouldn't have. Again, he's stubborn.

He decided not to go to the ER and just see his PCP the next morning as planned. The PCP took one look at him, looked at the records from the hospital and promptly sent him off to the ER. The ER doctor was stunned that the previous doc (at a different hospital) had sent my Dad home in the first place.

A cat scan showed more than one clot in his lungs. A blood test done at the first hospital had revealed elevated levels of something I can't pronounce or spell nor can my mother. However this level was back down to zero as of Friday so it seems to be less of a concern to the doctors right now. BUT.. elevated levels of this, whatever the hell it is, can be an indication of a problem with the heart.

They'll be doing an echocardiogram in the morning to see if there are any indications that there are clots in his heart. The thought of which terrifies me and I haven't even looked that possibility up yet. They can't do a cardiac cath because of the blood thinners he is on. Which he will apparently be on for three months.

Now mind you I'm getting my information second hand and I do intend to try and speak with his doctor(s) at some point. The kids and I will be spending a day at my parents place this week. I offered to just bring one or two kids but they want them all, if they're willing. I have a feeling they will be. Should make for an interesting day.

So.. that is where things stand right now. I will update as necessary:)

Late night babble...

I have all of these fabulous ideas when I’m driving. I almost always have country music cranked and the windows down at least a little. You'd think I wouldn't be able to think with all that noise and wind. But I get some of my best (if I do say so myself) ideas while driving.

Here’s the problem..

By the time I get home and attempt to get those ideas into a Word document I have nothing.. Nada.. zip… zilch. NOTHING. I don’t get it. I sit and stare at the computer screen and the keyboard. Maybe randomly tapping keys and backspacing repeatedly.

I’ve thought of carrying some sort of recording device. But I wouldn’t be able to hear myself over the music. Post it notes?? Oh yeah. Ask the man I married how that would turn out. Me frantically trying to find a pen while hittin’ eighty on 422.… not a good idea.

Someone once told me the key to good writing was to ‘write what you know‘. Or… maybe I read it somewhere. I dunno.. But it stuck with me. So.. What do I know?

I know how to change a diaper in under a minute, maybe a minute and a half if it is a particularly vile one. Boy I’m sure everyone is just chompin’ at the bit to read about that.

I know how to read Sam I Am WELL and can do it dozens of times before becoming tongue tied. Interesting but I doubt I can come up with more than a paragraph or two to explain it.

I can do just about any paper craft. With an emphasis on scrapbooking. But those things have been written about ad nauseam.

Pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, bottlefeeding, to circ or not to circ, blah, blah, blah… I’ve participated in many on line message boards devoted to these subjects and to be honest with you they all bore me. Maybe because none of it applies to me in the present moment.

I know that my daughter and I are going to see my Grandmother today. She’ll be ninety in October. I’m trying to make a more conscious effort to spend time with her. I lost my other Grandmother in January of 2006 to pancreatic cancer. She was diagnosed in October of 05’. So we have a last set of holidays with her before she was gone.

I want to spend as much time as I can with the only grandparent I have left. She’s going to attempt to teach Sydney and I how to knit. Good thing she is a patient woman. She tried with me once before and pronounced me ‘hopeless’ (she really does love me). That was many years ago so we thought we’d give it one more shot. We think Sydney will pick up more quickly than I will.

I'm sure if I spend some time thinking about it I'll come up with more "things I know". Maybe I'll take a drive...

Don't ask, don't tell...

It's been a little while since I've blogged. There really isn't a whole lot to tell. He does his thing. I do mine. I don't ask him what he's doing, he doesn't ask me what I'm doing.

I'm trying to surround myself with people who I know care and/or just "get it". I've taken my therapeutic writing to a more private venue.

If I'm being honest with myself, my marriage as I knew it, is over. We've reached the point of no return. I'm not really sure how I feel about that. I'm trying to take my own advice and just take things one day at a time. I do what needs to be done. I do things I want to do. I try not to think too much beyond the next twenty-four hours. I feel like I'm repeating myself. I've said this all before.

The next step is to find something I enjoy doing and make money doing it. I've been told this really is an easy thing to do. I'm about to find out. In the meantime, I need to at the very least find a part time job. I keep telling myself that once the kids are back in school I'll be able to focus on that. Yes, I am procrastinating and avoiding. Cut me some slack! This is all new territory for me. I am a creature of habit. The surest way to wig me out is too change the dynamics on me.

My forty-first birthday is just around the corner. At one time I thought that was the most ominous thing I was facing. How wrong I was. I don't feel forty-one. Some days I feel as if ninety is looming on the horizon. Some days I don't feel a day over twenty-five. Although the body doesn't fit that image. Hey! One can pretend!

I have no idea what the hell I'm saying right now. I have a wicked case of writer's block... (I do not consider the above anywhere near my best work...)

Time to start the day...

Clarification...

Despite my own gut feelings I have no concrete proof that the buffoon is cheating on me. I should probably refrain from accusing him of such in a public forum but... well to he honest with you I don't give a rat's tushie what he thinks or feels right now. He's certainly made it quite clear that HE doesn't give a damn what I'm thinking or feeling so... what's good for the goose is good for the gander:o)

On a more serious note...

I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.

Counseling?? I'll be honest with you, despite my belief that counseling CAN help some people in some situations, this woman seems a little off the wall. I know, I know... three sessions is hardly enough to make a difference nor for me to get a true feel for someone but.. I dunno... he's so adamant that he's only doing this to appease (now isn't that special?) me that I have to wonder why I'm wasting fifty bucks and an hour or more every week.

A job. Can I just tell you how the thought of working in any retail establishment makes me want to hurl. But where the hell else am I going to find a job with my limited job skills? I've spent eighteen years being chief bottle washer and diaper changer. Granted my diaper changing days ended some years ago but you know what I mean.

The "plan" had always included me going back to school at some point. I mean after all, for the last eighteen years he's built a name for himself within his industry and has climbed the proverbial corporate ladder. After being by his side through all of that my reward is a job working my ass off at Wal Mart for peanuts AND raising six kids mostly by myself?? Well golly gee! Aren't I the lucky one??? (Yes I AM being sarcastic AND using a certain obscene gesture.)

And what the hell is this notion of his that we can "co~exist"? Be married but well.. not in the way that really counts in the end. Is he flippin' serious????? Just how long does he think we can play that little game??? Until he decides which little home wrecking, whore he wants to be his new victim... ummm.. err.. wife?

But then I think... well ok.. maybe I can do this.. this "co~existing" thing. What are the rules?? Or conditions?? If you prefer that word instead. How does one even begin to process something like that. Is there a rule book out there somewhere which explains, in detail, how a married couple goes from being a married couple, to being a married couple but in name only?

If I wasn't the one dealing with all of this I might actually find this situation amusing and entertaining. However, it's MY life so I'm less inclined to enjoy it. Imagine that.

I'll probably get...

...blasted out of the water for this... from several directions. So let's just cut to the chase now. If you don't like what I'm about to say please feel free to keep it to yourself. I. Don't. Care what you think. K? K. :o)

Now that THAT is out of the way... seriously folks.. it's been seven months. SEVEN!!! THAT is not natural for a married couple. I'm sorry, it's just not. At least it was never natural for THIS married couple. (Six kids.. need I say more.)

SOMETHING has GOT to give... and soon!!!!!!!!!!

Independence Day...

It feels different this year. Like it means something. To me. On a personal level. I never imagined I'd be facing life as a possible divorced single parent of six. I didn't get married thinking it wouldn't be forever.

But as I should know at my age things don't always turn out the way we planned.

I don't know what the future holds for my marriage. I don't know if in a year we'll look back and think "Wow.. we almost screwed it all up.". I don't know if we'll be able to fix whatever it is that's broken.

He and I are in different places right now. I need to focus on myself and moving forward to the next phase. I loved being a stay at home parent. Most of the time. I won't lie and say I loved every second of it. But I was present for all of the most important moments in my kids lives.

But let's face it. They're all in school full time now. For about six to seven hours a day I am alone. With no one other than some furry friends to talk to. I'm bored. Really bored. And I think that may be 99% of MY issues with myself.

I need a part time job. I need to take some class or classes. I need to do both. And soon. Now to just get over that nasty social anxiety disorder thing, lol.. I am so NOT a people person. Where can one find a job where one does not have to interact with people? Ever. Like... at all. I know.. tall order.

Working on no sleep..

...so don't expect this to make sense:o)

Some will judge me. Some have judged me. It is evident in the absence of things.

I expected that. Accept that it is what it is. Not everyone is understanding. Not everyone can try and see through the eyes of another. I can. And I have.

When I was a little girl I had a poster in my room. It was of a little girl, standing in a field of flowers and grass. My parents insisted the little girl looked just like me. And in retrospect she did. At the bottom of the poster was this quote "Today is the first day of the rest of your life.".

I am almost forty-one years old and I finally really understand it. I'd love to find that poster. The exact same one I had and hang it somewhere prominent in my home.

Although.. at present it doesn't feel like a home. It's simply a house. A place for our things. A place for us to sleep and eat. I need to make it a home again. With or without the buffoon's help or input.

He's here. He refuses to go anywhere. I am certainly not leaving my home or taking my children out of their home. And I am NOT going anywhere without my children. But I don't have to pay attention to him. It will be hard. And the kids will "force" us to communicate on some level. As will the every day things that adults deal with. But he's gone nearly fifteen hours a day. Monday through Friday.

It won't be hard to pretend he doesn't exist. Ok.. well maybe that's pushing it a bit.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.