Friday, November 26, 2010

Stepping out of my comfort zone...

I just sent an application, along with a cover letter, to yet another retail establishment. I didn't ask anyone to proof read or critique my cover letter. I didn't try to talk myself out of sending it. I'm notorious for second guessing myself and continually seeking validation from others. It drives me, and everyone who knows me, to the point of madness.

So tonite I ignored the ever present fear that I was somehow saying something stupid or making a colossal mistake and just went with my own gut on it. Of course, now that it's done I'm wigging a little. Wondering if I should have at least had Deb take a look at things before I sent it. And no, I didn't save a copy (though I did get an e-mail confirmation that the app was received). I was so focused on just sending it that I didn't stop to copy and paste it.

But what's done is done. It's not like I'm applying to be a rocket scientist or neonatal nurse. And my spelling and grammar were impeccable so I have that much. :)

Friday, November 19, 2010

Facing the storm...

“I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure, I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” ~Marilyn Monroe

THIS is one of my all time favorite quotes. It’s me in a nutshell.

I freely admit I am not without fault. I own up to my faults and I really do try, on a daily basis, to control and overcome those faults. I’m not always successful. I know that the dissolution of my marriage is as much my fault as it is his. He doesn’t admit this but that really doesn’t matter in the end. I can’t control what he does and thinks. No more than he can control my thoughts and actions.

Oddly, the events of the last few days, and today most of all, have left me with a calm I haven’t had in a very long time. Don’t get me wrong. I know the next several months, or more, will be rough in ways I can’t even fathom right now. But I feel up to the challenge and ready to face them.

I’ve found some inner peace I didn’t think I had. The old me would be a puddle right now. Terrified of the future. I’d be in my room crying and railing against God. The new me is busy brainstorming and planning her future. There’s a confidence in me that I’d buried for so long I wasn’t sure I could bring it back. But I have. And it will continue to grow each day. And each night I pray to God. For personal strength and peace, and my loved ones.

I’m not an idiot. I’m not perfect but I am not some weak chick who can’t do anything without a man. This is the way he sees me. He being the stbx (soon to be ex). That’s his opinion and he’s entitled too it. I’M entitled to make him eat his words. :)

Wednesday, November 17, 2010


For as long as I can remember Christmas has been my all time favorite time of year. As a child I would lay awake for hours on Christmas Eve hoping to hear the distinctive sound of sleigh bells and reindeer hooves on the roof. I’d finally succumb to sleep only to wake long before dawn rarin’ to race down the steps and see what Santa had brought.

But even as a child it was about more than the presents. It was the sights, the sounds, the smells. It was time with family and big holiday gatherings. I loved every second of it. Including the chaos of Christmas shopping.

As a parent I have always gone out of my way to make Christmas as magic as possible for my children. At the first hint of a chill in the air my mind is racing with decorating, baking, gift buying and I’m humming Christmas carols. I don’t care what I get for Christmas. The looks on my kids’ faces Christmas morning is the best present I could ever receive.

This year, try as I might, I can’t find that feeling. This year I want to ignore the impending holidays for as long as possible. I have no Christmas spirit. I avoid looking at Christmas displays and decorations in stores. I don’t want to hear Christmas carols or see Christmas advertisements. I don’t even want to think about Christmas in the abstract. When I do, when some commercial I didn’t mute quite fast enough reminds me of it, my eyes well up with tears because I know this is it. Our last Christmas as a “whole” family.

I hate him for that more than anything else. I can forgive him not loving me enough to be married to me. I can even forgive his vile, cruel, heartless behavior. But I cannot, and will not, forgive him for destroying my family as I know it and thereby changing the dynamics of every holiday from here on out.

I don’t want his and her holidays. I WANTED to save my marriage. HE didn’t. I didn’t want a divorce. HE did. HE should suffer. HE should have to make all of the sacrifices. HE should be the one who has to give things up. NOT me.

But I have no choice. In the name of fairness I have to share my kids with him on holidays. In my ever so humble opinion there is nothing fair about it.

Thursday, November 11, 2010



I'm working my way through a large pile of boxes in my bedroom. Boxes of old books, magazines, clothes, etc. They've been residing in the unfinished portion of the third floor. A large "closet" if you will. Some of them have been there two or more years. I got a bug up my butt this morning to get a lot of them out of here today. I've made quite a dent in the pile.

The kids are scattered about the house doing their thing. I check on them periodically, particularly if it gets too quiet, to make sure no one is bleeding and nothing is on fire.

Just minutes ago I heard the distinctive wail of Logan. From the tone I could tell he'd been hurt in some physical way. Now I couldn't have told you at that moment if this would manifest itself in nothing more than a bruised ego, or a bloody nose. Because Logan wails with the same intensity no matter which it is. I suspected, as it is more often than not, to be the former.

It was. However, it was still necessary to have a chat with the perpetrator. Riley. He'd hit Logan in the face. So said (sobbed) Logan, though there wasn't a mark on his face. Knowing Riley, it had happened but I never know for sure. Riley arrived in front of me stoic, admitting his guilt and ready to explain to me why he had to do it.

Me: "Riley... what have you been told about putting your hands on someone???"

Riley: "He was askin' for a fight.", said in the most matter of fact tone of voice. As if I should already know this.

Me: "I'm sorry? What??" (as I struggle not to burst into giggles because really, you should have seen this kids' face when he said it.)

Riley: HE was askin' for it. If someone wants a fight I'm not going to deny an act." (swear to God that's what he said)

Me: Riley... even if someone is "asking for it" you do NOT put your hands on them. You find me or Dad or another adult and let US handle it."

Riley: "Mom!", said with firmness but not shouted, "I am not going to deny an act."

Me: (knowing full well this could go on for hours and honestly not sure what the hell he was trying to say) "Riley!! Keep your hands to yourself!! It's that simple!" (but I'm laughing out loud now and he knows he's got me)

Riley: (huge sigh, muttering) "He wanted a fight.", and walked down the steps, sliding his eyes up and grinning his evil grin at me.

I gave him "the look" in return and that sent him scurrying. But he'll hit someone again. And I'll primand him again and... Good Lord. Logan is wailing again already!

Calgon take me away.

Stupid Michelle Trick #789...

Only me.

I had an errand to run. I knew I was dangerously low on gas so the first place I head too is WaWa for a fill up. I hate getting gas. Loathe it. And thus avoid it until I risk running out on a lonely road somewhere. So this afternoon I wasn't TOO surprised when the van sputtered and died literally at the traffic light at Penn Ave at the end of my street. I was, however, MORTIFIED!

I quickly raced back home, got the gas can (full THANK GOD!!!), raced back to the van, emptied the gas can into it, tried to start it. Battery is dead. URG!! My battery needs replacing. That's HIS job. He has obviously failed at it. I'd do it but my "allowance" doesn't cover car repair and maintenance. (sarcasm intended)

Anywho... in the end I needed a police officer to push the van while I steered off to the side of the road. Another officer had to bring a portable car battery charger since I couldn't find my teenage son or any of his friends.

I spent what felt like an hour waiting in my too warm van that smelled of gas fumes from the gas tank on the floor behind me for the second officer to arrive. In reality it was likely ten minutes or less. But within those ten minutes I think I got a contact high from said gas fumes.

It was with great relief that I popped the hood when the second officer brought the charger around to the front of my car. Despite the fact that I'd done nothing wrong, the sheer authoritative role of a police officer left me feeling like I had. Two of them was even worse. Couple that with other drivers slowing to gawk and I couldn't wait to pull away.

They left the battery charge a few minutes and then sent me on my merry way. I drove home taking the first deep breaths I had since walking up to the officer.

I am not getting back into that car until he puts a new battery in it!!!!

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

"Tennee" Girl

My dog, Tennessee (Tennee girl, Tennee) has always been attached to me. But lately she is literally at my side at all times while I’m in the house. She follows me from room to room and sometimes from one side of the room to the other as if she’s afraid she’ll suddenly lose sight of me. I don’t know if she senses the stress, sadness and anxiety in me or if she’s just feeling insecure??

It’s sweet. For the most part. Although there is something disconcerting about opening the shower curtain to find her staring at me expectantly. She will whine incessantly if she can’t find a way to get next to me on the couch. Let me rephrase that. She will whine incessantly until she finds a way to be practically on top of me on the couch. She will press the length of her body tightly against me or sprawl half of her body across or around me. Even if she has to crawl behind me to do it.

When I go into the bathroom, she goes into the bathroom. When I walk from the living room to the kitchen, she hops up, sometimes from a dead sleep complete with human like snoring, and follows me.

When I go up to bed at night she comes with me and sleeps either next to me or at my feet. If I move too suddenly she startles and watches me intently to make sure I’m just adjusting my position and am not about to leave her all alone in the bedroom. Which is apparently a horrible thing because she will NOT stay up there without me or Sydney.

My bedroom is on the third floor and used to be a walk up attic. Tthe steps leading up to it end in the bedroom. If I’d get up, walk down to the bottom of the steps to flip the switch that will turn the fan/light above my bed on, she would follow me to the bottom of the steps. She’s learning now though. Now she simply hops off the bed and waits at the top of the steps to see if I’m coming right back up or if I’m heading downstairs. If I do, you guessed it, she follows me. If I head back up t he steps instead she waits until I’m practically on top of her before she trots back to the bed and hops up on it.

She’s just a foot or so away from right now. With a look on her face that clearly says she’s knows I’m talking about her. :)

Sunday, November 7, 2010

This is getting ridiculous....

When might I start to feel normal again?? Because I gotta tell ya' this sobbing at the drop of a pin is getting old. I cried through mass this morning, cried myself to sleep last night and I'm fighting tears right now. I'm cranky more often than I'm happy. EVERYTHING irritates me. I snap at the kids, the ass (he deserves it) and anyone who dares to look at me cross eyed. I'm sure I've pissed off quite a few people in the last two days alone but I don't give a rat's ass. I tell it like it is. Don't like it. Tough. If you want something sugarcoated eat a damn donut! (Thanks for that analogy Dawn!!)

I'm bored out of my friggin' mind and I can't even get someone to call me for an interview let alone offer me a job. I've filled out so many applications on line, and off, that I could probably do it in my sleep at this point.

At least four times a week the ass flips on me over something. Calling me everything from a whore to a word I won't repeat. Gee, whores are generally "gettin' some". Trust me, I'm not. As for that other word, well it takes great restraint not to punch his teeth down his throat when he says it.

I'm tired, fed up, pissed off and at the end of my damn rope. I'm SICK of people feeding me platitudes. I am NOT a robot. I am a human being and I have FEELINGS!!!!! I can't just turn them off for God sakes!