I am a rock, I am an island....

Holla to myself!  Score at the thrift store today.  Four pairs of pants and two shirts for $14.00.  Each item looks brand new.  They are all expensive brands as well.  I am pretty sure that when I achieve millionaire status I will continue to shop in a thrifty fashion.  I am from Maine.  I love a deal.  Yessah.

So then, it appears the manners book that comes with cell phone usage has not been opened by some.  I don't care if you are in the check out line at Walmart, Wawa, 7-eleven, Advance auto parts or friggin Food Lion.  DO NOT...I repeat...DO NOT gab it up via the i-phone waves while I am behind you.  It grinds my gears when I am putting my almost purchased stuff on the belt and you stop in your Loui's to go finger pointing in the air with that long ass, fake index finger nail "blah, blah, blah."  The flippin' cashier needs your attention...ya know to pay - and I need you to pay ah- friggin- tention.   OK, I admit, I am a tad jealous - for I want my nails done too but never seem to be able to find the time to go.  But still, seriously.  And  p.s.  You are likely the same person who pissed me off on the road because you were a chattin' it up in your car.
 
Oh, man. Eeeeeek.   Speaking of pissin' people off in cars...if you haven't driven here in Hampton Roads you might not know what I mean, but I'm just sayin' the folks that came up w/ some of the roadway systems around here may or may not have been on acid.  Anyhow, the place I speak of is jacked up.  There are four lanes on the 'by-pass' they divide two and two and right before they do this there is a ramp that is coming from another highway that merges in but your not supposed to yield.  Me and Miranda Lambert were comin' up the ramp, belting it out and suddenly I hear this horn being laid on.  Got the... fut the whuck?  look on my face and said (out loud).."was that for me?"  I soon discovered that yes, yes it was.  The ...ahem....grandpa in the champagne colored Jeep Cherokee...(not the champagne colored Jeep GRAND Cherokee that I used to sport around in...might I add) was just a holdin' his whole left arm out the window with middle finger erect.  Well, well, well.  Apparently he has never had the misfortune or privilege (it varies) of meeting a Greek/Irish, hot tempered, stressed out Goddess (yeah, I went there) from Maine.  Mhhhmmm.  It came out.   The bitch was unleashed.  Now, normally I temper myself in the car because I have my kids with me.  They weren't there, Miranda and I were talkin' Kerosene and I wasn't about to not respond.  Lucky for me, what with the four lanes I had plenty of time.  Yup, he got it back.  From under my $5.99 Cato shades and him under his bi focals we exchanged the bird.  But it wasn't just any bird.  Oh no, mine had words that shot out with it.  He so proudly had that arm hung out that window for me (and perhaps that is what pissed me off to prompt my response) I had to give the glory back.  He looked at me as I went by...I pointed to my purty lil self under that cute black pea coat and said (well really I hollered cause I was pissed)  "FUCK ME?  FUCK ME?  OH HELL NO, FUCK YOUUUUUUU".  I know, doing my mom proud, daily.  My middle finger was so far pointed at him I thought I might shatter the passenger window in my 'economy' car.  Imagine what I could've done had I that manicure I so desperately need.  He looked horrified, shocked and amazed all at once and pulled his arm down.  Man that felt good.  I started to laugh out loud.  Now, please know I am reading the book 'The purpose driven life' and am trying to be a good Christian.  All of that took place in probably a seven to ten second span.  I reacted.  Poorly, in my opinion.  I kinda shocked myself at my immediate thought after it happened.  "What could you have done differently, Angela?"  The old Ang would've said "I coulda rammed his ass with my front effin bumpah"  but the new, sweeter Ang said " I could've blown him a kiss and prayed that his day go better for him to get so angry at me over my doing nothing wrong".  Maybe next time that is just what I'll do.

Reactions can be dangerous.

I told Alan the story when I got home.  "Makin' me proud honey, makin' me proud." 
You probably don't know this but when Alan was the age I am (29) plus some...OK 38 he became a grandfather.  A real life, biological grandfather at thirty friggin' eight.  I suppose if I had kids as early as he did I would relate better.  And that has been on my mind.  We are at completely different places.  Why did we not see this prior to marriage?  Oh yeah, that whole blinded by love thing. 

If you are wondering about Alan becoming a Grandpa at age thirty eight, yes, they are  still happily married and have another child.  He has two daughters that are married right out of high school and are still with their spouses.  That impresses me.  Alan and me?  Well, we maybe combined with our seven marriage total have stayed together that long.  Seriously, those girls may hate me right now (and as much as that saddens me) I respect them for getting it right.

You know, whatever it is.

I am not even sure what I have done wrong.  According to their dad (my hubby), I have shown him a love he never knew existed, a life full of adventure he didn't know was around and a flavor he had never before seen.  And somehow I am the bad guy.  I do miss the fam coming over for Greek pizza, even as dysfunctional as we are.  Those that know me best know that hate has never been an intention of mine.  Strong willed, suck it up buttercup, drop and give me five, get outta my face maybe, but never hate.

Cheers friends, and do yourselves a favor...don't eat all the kids treats from Halloween.

And by the way, he (hubby) just mentioned what an awesome cook I am too.  And he grabbed my ass.  Dear Lord, that's not foreplay is it?

Learning never stops!

Do you ever reflect on yourself and go "self, what were you thinkin'?!"  I do.  I do it often.  I have made many bad, impulsive choices in my life. 

Those days are gone.  I think things through now and understand the consequences I will endure if I execute the plan that is brewing in my head.  I use the word 'brewing' because, well don't all witches?  

Here is a prime example:  A dear friend is marrying her love this weekend up in Maine and I won't be there.  It is really upsetting me.  I know my darling husband won't give me any sympathy.  He has lived in Chesapeake his whole life and has never had to face this personally so he just won't get it.  Which reminds me, I hate it when you are going through something and people will say..."oh, I know how you feel."  That ticks me off.  YOU have NO IDEA how I feel, dumbass.  You've never been in this situation.  Though I appreciate the concern don't say what you think I need to hear.  Just give me a friggin' hug and  have a cocktail with me.  Alan would never BS about it.  He can't even pretend he cares.  That's a quality in him I find refreshing.  Oh yeah, back to my friend and her nuptials.  Two nights ago I was online looking at plane tickets.  Round trip it would've been under one paycheck but that was to Boston so then I would have to rent a car or be pathetic enough to a friend...also, I would have to find someone to watch my kids for three days and that is next to impossible.  Talked myself out of hitting confirm.  See, a few years ago I would've just bought the ticket and figured everything else out after - bringing huge stress into my life.  So last night I was thinking - I'll just drive and bring Jake and Emma with me.  I mean really, who wouldn't want to be in a vehicle for fifteen hours twice in three days with a seven y/o and an ADHD nine y/o?  For a few moments I had myself convinced that it was a brilliant plan.   Then I started thinking...bathroom stops, "I'm bored" "are we there yet?"  "I'm hungry" "Jaaaaaaaaake don't touch me"  "Emma give that back".  Just as quick as the 'yes' decision was in my mind on hopping in the car and taking off - it left!  My sanity is far more important than seeing a person who I love and admire marry the love of her life.  Yup, those two, they got whatever that 'it' is that most only search for, coming up empty.

All if this proves something to me.  The personal growth books I have been reading and the trainings I have had from having a business that is the dreaded...network marketing...didn't lie.  The way I think is changing and it's getting better every single day.  I have grown more in this last year than in the prior ten combined.  I owe it all to Arbonne.  My kids deserve the best person I can be and that is what they are going to get.  They truly are my biggest fans for my business.  They don't know fear, they just know mommy will have a white Mercedes one day. 
See, learning really never does stop.  Unless your a teenager cause they know everything.  

Judging, love and roaring lions.

Is love really enough?
That question has been on my mind lately.  We are taught "love can conquer all".  But can it?  In my life love has come and gone.  Some loves have stayed with me stronger than others and some left as quickly as they came.  Then you must ask...was it really love to begin with?  Love is a delicate word with not so fragile outcomes and meanings.  It shouldn't be tossed around.  It should be considered thoroughly before being decided upon.  I feel like it is often mistaken for other emotions and we think it is love.   Well, that has been my personal experience anyway.
 
Okay, enough deep thought for this post.  What the frig is wrong with people's driving skill or should I say lack of?   I know a big part of the problem...cell phones.  Nine times out of ten if someone is driving like a moron they are either texting or chatting it up behind the wheel.  Sure, it's a great place to catch up but driving and multitasking don't go hand in hand.  Driving and paying (pay attention...pahhlease)  attention do.  Hampton roads, you should try it.

Did you ever just finish cleaning the kitchen to a spotless review and five minutes later you walk in to see dishes in the sink and crumbs on the counter?  It's called having children and it is friggin' annoying!  It is equally annoying when  you finish the laundry and five minutes later there is a hamper of dirty clothes staring at you in the laundry room.  Also children.  

Sometimes, when I am in the heat of an almost "they're gonna have to come take me away" moment there are so many thoughts swirling in my cluttered mind and all I can focus on is that I have gained a   ahem...few pounds and my fat now hangs over my jeans.  Ten pounds ago it didn't.  Ten pounds ago I wasn't this stressed either.  Everything seems exaggerated (including my ass).  By this I mean there are so many underlying big issues that small ones creep up mid-argument and roar out of my mouth like an angry lion.  I swear I can't help it.  All these little things over the last five years come into my current thoughts and I get pissed off at them all over again.  And I explode.  Alan and I are two of the most stubborn people I have ever met.  I am not sure who holds title to it but what a nasty competition.

Speaking of combo's...Jake's diagnosis finally came in, just today.  One month I had to wait.  A four diagnosis combo pack is what he has, written in blah blah blah Doctor terms.  What I got out of it is this:  Dear mom of Jacob, your road to raising Jacob will be long and hard.  Sucks to be you.  We did a bunch of testing which says he is very intelligent but a part of his brain won't allow him to focus long enough to give a flying eff about what is going on.  He'll be onto the next thing that pops into his head and the next and the next.  He will have random outbursts and emotional distresses that he can't control and neither can you.  Negative consequences must be learned over time, cause he just ain't gonna get them now.  His brain won't let him.  Let's medicate him!  
My response: (in my mind)

Dear Doc's,
Me and God?  Yeah, we got this one covered.
Love,
Ang
I don't know how else to get through it but prayer and God.  Well, the occasional glass of wine doesn't hurt, of course. 
Do yourselves a favor and don't judge people.  You never know what is going on in their world.   Peace out.

They have a laugh that makes me smile.

Today Emma came bouncing off the school bus  "MOM, mom guess what?  Me and Jenna were the only two in our class who got all of our test right so Mrs. Mills let us pick out a toy or a candy!"  "We both chose airheads." 

Does anyone else see the irony?   The smart kids choosing airheads...

Emma knows I do not approve of that particular type of candy.  I would like for their teeth to stay in tact, without overpriced fillings.   But ya know, every now and then I suppose it's ok and she did get a one hundred on the test.  Jake?   Jake, Jake, Jake.

God love him.  Monday was testing day for about two and a half hours.  ADHD, autism, aspergers...all of it.  I was allowed to stay back and watch the whole thing.  He has been through this testing before, when he was six.  That time it was at Portsmouth Naval and I have never been made to feel like a worse parent than at the moment when the head of the psychology department pulled me into his office and told me I had a six year old with the worst case of ADHD and ODD that he had ever seen in his thirty years.  I took it like a champ, thanked him politely and walked out and never went back there.  Before making me feel like a heel, he showed me some of the testing that they had done.  The whole time I was shaking my head and thinking there is no way...he knows this stuff.  He is way too smart.  I even asked "ummmm, excuse me but isn't six hours of testing a tad long on even a 'normal' six year old?"  Oh the look I got.  "I'll bet you get real mad at him don't you?"  What the eff kind of question was that?  Then he proceeded to tell me I would have to find a shrink in Chesapeake and get him on medication because ...and these are his words..."that is the only way he can function."  Imagine hearing this about your child.   That fat bastard is lucky I didn't punch him in the nose.  Seriously dude, go to Jenny Craig, what's making you fat?  Do you hide your own insecurities in a biggie size Wendy's meal for supper?  And deodorant is what you would wear to make that smell go away.  I wanted to lash out at him so badly.   I wanted to say these things but instead it was a mere "thanks"  with a blank stare and every ounce of believing in my son holding the tears back that were about to create a waterfall on my face.
And then the waterfall came.  I had managed to get to the stairs and the tears spilled out of me like Niagara Falls.  I ran through the hallways of Portsmouth naval alone, crying, searching for the exit because it's so friggin confusing in there and I knew I had ten minutes to get to the school to pick Jake up and it was at best a twenty five minute drive.   I, of course didn't have the school's phone number in my phone but I called someone and got it.  I felt so alone.  Alone.  Alone.  The reason I was going to be late was because as so many Dr's do - this one got behind by about an hour.  So I had to wait an extra hour to be told I sucked as a parent.  I suspect his intention wasn't to make me feel like a failure but he did.  Jake's teacher had no problem waiting until I got to the school to pick him up.  She was awesome through this whole process and I was lucky enough to have her for Emma as well.  In fact, all the teachers both of my children have had have been amazing and for this I am thankful.  Speaking of teaching....

I try to teach my kids daily.  I wonder, however, if they realize that they are teaching me?  I suppose they won't realize it until they are parents themselves...and I hope they have children just like they are because in spite of all the grief they put me through I love them so much.  Those naughty little misbehavin' children...whatever they are in life I just know they will be great because they had me as a mom.  And God wouldn't have it any other way.
Now then I am off to finish the blackberry pie that needs to bake and grill up some fabulous steaks for the husband who has been gone for about thirty something hours looking at some engine rescue thing in Charlotte for a city that could care less if he continues employment here or not.  No, no overtime, he went at his own will.  Well I guess my opinion of whether or not he should've gone down to check it out is obvious.  But what do I know?  I am just the dame who can cook and keep a clean house (and I must say a maintained lawn) the dog, cat, chickens and people fed and still look this pretty.  Yes dolls, it is so exhausting. 
If you happen to see some crazy looking lady running down the road with a rolling pin in one hand and bottle of wine in the other it could in fact be me....but only if she is screaming wildly.   Enjoy life people, we are here only a short time.  Oh, and if you're wondering I have to wait to find out about the new test results.  They are going to mail them to me.  Apparently parent torture is involved in the whole testing process.  

Supermodel trapped in a stepmother's body.

Searching for the words to write this blog has proven to be quite challenging for me.  There are eggshells I have always walked on since marrying Alan, with certain people.  I'm done.  This time a new level of not giving a shit has entered my being and frankly I have had it.  Hate me if you must, but the truth is the truth.
Apparently, I am being damned for having some friends over Saturday evening and not inviting the whole flippin' family.  I think some people have way too much time on their hands to conjure up the thoughts that this was a direct attack on them.  To be honest, it was decided a day or two before and it was never intended to be a family cookout.  By the way, dear steps, when was the last time any of you invited us over?  I can not believe the level as to which this has been brought on facebook.  Funny thing is, it was so upsetting to them, yet not mine nor my husbands phone rang.  Nope, immediately a typed reaction was sent out for everyone in social media land to lay their eyes on and think "oh...poor so and so."  Give me a break.  I am 38 years old and if I want to have some friends over for dinner and fun I will.  My husband and I chose to ignore the fb bologna and not respond to any of it.  There have been numerous occasions when I have invited only one child and her family over for dinner - I just don't understand the problem.  I guess they forgot.  There have been plenty of times when they have posted on fb about going out and posted pic's.  My thought wasn't...'those little bitches doing this to me..'  Last time I checked I was allowed a life outside my husbands family.
Well, I guess I didn't get the memo that came with the instruction book on how to handle every situation that could possibly arise in a blended family.  So now I am once again the bad guy for having done nothing wrong.  Geesh, you would think with all this scheming I do I would be exhausted.
The title?  Supermodel?  I just liked the way it sounded.  This blog is, I suppose just a retaliation of missiles fired at me.  And yes, some would consider it as bad as blabbing to fb land about what a victim you are.  But I don't.  It's my blog and I'll bitch if I wanna. 
Now then...lookin' forward to happier times!

Why my fave kitchen utensil is a corkscrew...

It annoys the crap outta me when people leave about a tablespoon of peanut butter or mayo on the knife and stick it in the sink.  Seriously.  Then I have to find some old paper towel or something questionable in the trash, scrape it off and clean the sink.  Apparently I have special hands and am the only one who can activate the dishwasher door to open it.  But it's not really about that - it's more about how many flippin' sandwiches could I have made w/ the leftover stuff on the knife?  Groceries ain't cheap these days.  I also dislike when 'people' leave little bits of something in the jar.  Like tuna fish.  Bleh.
 I used to scrub the kitchen floor on my hands and knees every night after all the kids went to bed.  The floor was very light in color and every little spec showed.  When picking out our new floor I made sure I found a color that would not only coordinate with the new counter tops and paint but hide the dirt.  It does a fabulous job.  I no longer scrub the floor every night.  Of course, we don't have as many kids in the house participating in the dirt department either.  I probably sweep the whole downstairs 2 times a day and it seems as though within 5 minutes after doing so the floor is trashed again.  How is it that I will have the counters spotless and sink empty and the next time I walk in the kitchen there are crumbs all over and dishes in the sink?  It tends to discourage a girl and make her just say eff it and not clean.  But then I can't stand not clean so I grudgingly do it myself and hold the anger in.  After just over 5 years that is a lot of built up anger.  Sometimes I feel like I am the maid and  chef not the wife and mother.  The pay sucks.
What doesn't suck is the yoga I have started practicing.  It is important to do things for yourself and be kind to your body.  Sometimes, we the keepers of the house, forget about that.  When I take that hour for myself, usually having to stick the kids in front of the TV so I can, the world looks more blissful when I am done.  Trust me, if you don't take time for you it is easy to start resenting things and people...

A few weeks ago I turned thirty eight.  When I was a little girl and people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up I would always say a lawyer or ballerina or cowgirl.  I never thought to myself "gee, when I am old, because to an eight year old anything over thirty is ancient, not once did I picture myself divorced twice, on my third marriage and children by two different men.  No college education and living in a place I dislike.  Nope, that is not the picture that came to mind.  But that is where I am at.
Isn't it great though, that we humans have this remarkable power to change our situation?  You just have to have the courage.  Fear can be paralyzing.  One day at a time we are trying to set goals, reach them and have the best life we can, my hubby and me. 
Until that comes...there is always wine.  And that, dear friends, is why my favorite kitchen utensil is a corkscrew. 
Oh, and by the way folks, the trash cans don't empty themselves. 

Paragraphs from my not yet titled (or finished) book.

I chose to post this today as what I really want to write would likely cause some anger.  Speaking of anger, on this part of the month long trip I was completely over everything.  They had beat me down.  And we were only just over half way through.


Chapter 9 

Sex?  No, not on this trip.

Ten.  Somewhere around the number ten is how many times I have told Alan I want a divorce thus far on this trip.  Each time it has been induced by Patrick and/ or Jake's behavior and I get to my breaking point and say “FINE.”  “If we are that bad to be around and you hate us that much we will leave upon our return home.”  Speaking of myself and my kids.   I know, not the best way to handle the situation but my give a damn was busted.  Each day that passed I was encouraged more and more to feel this way.  Sometimes I would get mad at myself that I allowed them to bring me to this point.  Sometimes I would get mad that I showed so much anger toward the boys, especially Patrick.  Even though he put me in a position to justifiably feel that way - I am the adult. 

            Before we left Virginia, my friend Shannon told me to just call her and she would Western Union me the money for a bus ticket home for me, Jake and Emma.  She thought I was nuts for doing this in the first place.  She has been through everything with me in this marriage as I met her a week after I met Alan and we became fast friends.  There were times when I seriously considered it.  In the heat of anger it always sounded like a great option.  

            I was having a hard time understanding why Alan chose routes that are so challenging for us in this old RV.  He holds to his claim that he doesn't want to look at interstates all the time.  I love secondary roads too, but in a car without four kids.  I don't remember the last time he smiled at me.  Emma does all the time though.  Keeping a good attitude is becoming such a struggle I am going into shutdown mode.  I think Alan likes it when I give him the “silent treatment”.  He says he doesn't but he's lying.  I wonder if he is questioning what the hell we were thinking about the marriage, trip, everything as much as I am.  When first together loving him came naturally, it was so easy for me.  Now though, it is as if I have to work really hard at it.  Why do things change after marriage?   Why don't people try as hard to make the other happy?  Perhaps if he and I knew this I wouldn't be on number three and he on number four.  Staring over at him I get so damn mad that his facial expression is that of a disgruntled jack ass.  For crying out loud this is an amazing trip we are on and everything around us is beautiful.  I swear if he would change HIS attitude the kids would act different.

            I had no idea where we were even by looking at the map. I have always sucked with maps.   With each slow mile we put behind us we seemed to be getting further away from civilization.  Again, it was nice to see untouched land but having not a clue where I am kind of jarred me a bit.  Did I mention that each time Alan had to “tweak” her he would start by opening the engine cover?   Yup.  Right in our "living room."  So we are already in immense heat, coupled with him not “allowing” us to use the fridge to keep our water cool and then he would torture us with the damn heat from the engine.  Holy crap it was like being in an unwanted sauna.  No, much worse.  It was like he put us in an oven on broil.  The hot water to drink wasn't at all soothing.  Opening the windows only made it worse because then we would have heat coming at us from all directions.  Sweat pouring off us, I began to seriously wonder if this was possibly hell.

20 Years and can still do the running man.

Forty eight hours ago I was on I-95 south in Waterville, just starting the long trip home.  The temperature was cool at this point so it mattered not that the AC decided to quit in my car while on this trip.   Each time I pull out of Mom's driveway, my childhood home, I get jarred back to when I was 21 and pulling out of that driveway "for good."  Heading to Montana in my car with $500.00 to my name and a bunch of dreams on my mind and a huge grin on my face. Oh, and divorce #1 underway.

This trip was especially nostalgic for me, as it was my twenty year class reunion.  Twenty flippin' years.

  I wasn't in the 'popular' click in high school and really thought twice about going to the reunion.  I mean seriously, why would I want to see a bunch of people I wasn't friends with?  Those that looked down their noses at me in the halls of Hampden Academy? Why?  Because I am slimmer than I was back then and covertly hoped they were all fat.  Who needs a better reason than that?   I am also pretty nosy and was curious as to where life had taken people.  I must say, we all look pretty damn good as we are rapidly approaching 40.  Less than half the class showed up.  More did show up for the adults only evening...well I'll say it like it was... beer fest.  For me, being back home, seeing everyone, most I hadn't seen for 20 years, caused me to reflect on where I am at in life.  Am I truly happy?  Am I where I want to be?  Would my children be better off up here?  Are the Red Sox going to take it ever again?  Is that a pimple erupting on my chin?  Why are my husband and I on separate vacations?  Do my gray hairs stand out to them as much as they do to me?  All of those questions ran through my head in like 15 seconds.  No ADD here.

Anyway it was a fun time and I am glad I went.  I was pleasantly surprised by how much fun I had.  And yes, I can do the running man in flip flops. Impressive.  Some of us ended the night (actually morning) at Dysart's for some extra calories in case the million from the beer weren't enough.  I am grateful to all who planned, you did a fab job.  I know how busy everyone is so thanks for taking the time out of your busy lives to make sure we could all get drunk together again.  :) 

We lost 4 of our classmates before graduation.  Over the years I have wondered who they would be if they were still here.  Would they have gone to college?  What would they have named their children?  Now, as a parent I tear up for different reasons then before.  I can't even begin to imagine what their parents, or any parents go through when they lose a child.  Perhaps one of the reasons I have lived life in the fast lane is because they were taken from us so young so I have chosen to live each day to the fullest.  Being content has always been my biggest struggle and I suppose it always will be.  I want to do it all.  I want to see everything.  I have done a lot and seen a lot and have thought of Jamie, Mike, Chad and Robbie in my travels.  I thought of them when I was at Yosemite and Yellowstone and Mt. Rushmore.  I thought of them on my hikes on the Parkway and throughout Oregon.  They have even come to mind while I have been in Vegas.  They all loved life.   And they all are on our minds and living right along with us in our hearts.   "It ain't fair you died too young, like a story that had just begun but death tore the pages all apart..."

Remember how I said I didn't mind the AC being out at the start of the trip?  Well it sucked out loud from Massachusetts on.  Sitting in the flippin' Bronx for  3 hours with the sun beating down on you and no AC just plain sucked.  But I know...it could always be worse.  I try to keep that in mind - when I am in crappy situations...it could always be worse.  And at some points in my life, it has been.

I can't stand his favoritism.  I can't understand it either.  Does this kid have something on him?  Why treat him so differently than all the others? 

Okay, I feel a tad better after typing that.  I suppose it is better than running outside with my apron on, rolling pin in hand screaming at him.  <like I wanna do> We'd make a fabulously entertaining reality show.  Times like these make me wish I had said "I do NOT"  instead of "I do".   I wonder how the preacher would've reacted?  Always it seems to be when one thing sets me off I think of every other little damn thing he has done to make my blood pressure soar and I go into eff you mode, aka shutdown. 

Blended families are difficult.

I don't think I can say it enough.  At first, it's all wine and roses (literally) and then everyone starts to get kinda sorta comfy in this new living situation and BAM.  I'll never ever forget the time when my then 9 y/o stepson (Alan & I weren't married too long) (and this is the one that hates me) well, I had gone to their mom's to pick all 3 of them up.  9 y/o was asking a question..."Angela -slash- Mom..."   We ALL laughed.  "Yes, Patrick - slash- son?"  And it was said just as you are reading.  I think Patrick didn't know what to call me.  Bitch likely would've been his preference.   I think it was at that moment it hit me. I got more on my plate than I can handle.  And oh boy, I had no idea.
 Years later the kid makes it clear that he hates me.  The days ofAngela-slash-mom are gone.  Well the outspoken version anyway.   None of them have a lick of respect for me and the only person I blame is the one who is currently outside angrily weed eating the places of the lawn the mower can't reach.  My dear husband. Ahhh, yes, that would be the one that I just watched throw a cooler across the deck because I had a high chair (for his grand kids) and some grocery store bags I was going to recycle at target - apparently -mistakenly on the deck.  GREAT reason to flip out.   What I would like to say (scream) right now is "Hey Sgt. Pecker head ~ take your attitude elsewhere."  Somehow I refrain.  I am so getting better at holding my tongue.  I hear Emma in the background "hey Jacob, if you want your nose to stop being red just put your Popsicle on it for about 39 times."  Whatever in the hell that means it made me smile. 

Sometimes just to know my children exist is all it takes to make me smile.  Other times, however it makes me frown... When I think about how much worse we could have it I am thankful.  I really mean that.   I understand that I should just appreciate what we do have and not take any breath for granted.  Life is more so precious than it is challenging.  Some days that is so hard to remember.  And some days if I could drill that into his head I would.  Really?   You want to have a fit about some bags and a high chair when I have a niece with a bad heart and brother in law waiting on lungs from a donor?  And by the way, that brother-in-law has 2 young kiddos and needs massive prayers.  Get over yourself, dear husband.  Get over how the yard 'looks' to people.  I mean Jesum Crow we have the nicest yard on Battlefield Blvd.  We win.  Isn't it enough that we win in my eyes?   You can fix anything and I admire you more than I have ever admired anyone...can't that be enough?  I guess it's not.  So we continue...

The good wife.

Oh yes, a beautiful wedding.  And as I listened to my pastor speak and to my friends say their vows love was in the air...

I am a great wife.  I know this.  Otherwise, BOTH of my exes and an ex fiancee wouldn't want me back.  You would think that would be a good thing but ahhhhh....not so much.  Well, I am about to add another into the pile of  relationship rubble if current hubby doesn't ... ahem...'straighten up'.  I simply refuse to 'worship' my man if I don't get treated respectfully back.  And no, bible thumpers, that's not asking too much.

No people, I am not a bitch.  Just at my breaking point.  Five years later.  It is no longer cute when I 'get' to pick up after him.  It is no longer sweet when he brings me roses from the yard and I have to pick up the trail from the kitchen (cuz I am ALWAYS in there) to the front door.  I no longer adore the way he brushes his teeth or leaves hair all in the bathroom sink.  These things all friggin' annoy me.  They seem to annoy me more so when he and I are in a heated discussion about the kids.  Every little effin thing he does that irritates the crap outta me comes out right in that moment. I get that vain thing in my temple.   They all spin in my head like a tornado.  As a bonus the whole time we are arguing I am also contemplating whether to do the dishes or laundry first which reminds me of why in the hell should I have to do all those solely?  And Jake please stop tuggin' on my friggin' arm so I can recall the horrible thing I was going to fuss at your stepfather about instead of fussing you out.  TH-THUMP TH-THUMP TH-THUMP... calm down - hearts are NOT supposed to be in throats.  Regain composure.  Now, about that laundry..."You are impossible."  I holler.  "I am NOT doing this right now."  "Really?  Would tomorrow at 2 be better?   Can I call ya then?"  I am awful sometimes.  But awful within reason.  He always walks away when he knows I am right and has no argument.  That being said he has admitted a few times here and there that he should've listened to me because I was right.  Why in the world is being right so important?

It's not.

Marriage shouldn't be about being right or wrong.  It should be about a mutual respect for each other and walking a straight path toward and in love together.  It should be about whatever is important to both of you and letting those things soar into forever.  It should be filled with happy and smiles.  It shouldn't be filled with blame and anger.  Nor should it be filled with hate.  And sometimes I think that is where mine has gotten to.  Hate.  It has nothing to do with he and I alone.  It has everything to do with the kids.  None excluded.  So much anxiety and anger built up over the years.  So many circumstances set aside and rearing their ugly heads now.  So many unfinished thoughts...so many times of angst that show up later.  We also have the problem that we are strong willed, each of us.  How in the hell do we let go and let the other control?  If I go by the bible I suppose I am supposed to obey.  Chuckle Chuckle.  Me, obey?  Are you serious? I don't believe that is in my genes. 
 He hates it when I pull the favoritism card, yet in the same breath he can't ever deny it.  Our problem is not our marriage.  Our problem is a power struggle.  Over kids who will one day be able to make the call - "Yes" or "No" when the makeshift Doctor at the nursing home asks..."Do you want to keep them hooked up?"  The thing with blended families is, if you don't blend them they don't work. And oh boy we have sucked at it.

Ugh.  I need a good dose of Maine people, yessah by golly I do believe so!  I mean, Jesum Crow.

Emma had strep throat and Anthem Healthkeepers was a huge pain in the ass about it.  They'll know my stand on Tuesday. And by the way, I'll be right.  

Not yet conditioned for this part...

How can I deal with this, when my (bio) kids haven't gone through that?

There are not any parenting coaching books.  'Good Christians' would tell you to turn to the Bible.  Bad Christians probably would too.  What I need is a step by step, play by play do it yourself parenting guide.  Could someone paaahleeese write that?  Hey Home Depot you are good at do it yourself projects...

No.

It can't be done.  Everyone is unique.  When I got myself into this blended, blissful mess I had no idea of the struggles I would endure.  I am confident the best ones are yet to come.  My kids aren't teens yet.  On the other hand, it has shown me just how strong I am.  I have had to stand for myself solely on more than one occasion with the enemy attacking and survived.  Me and Frank Sinatra, we stood tall and through it all we did it our way. 
Today, or yesterday, we aren't really sure because it was sometime during the night my Dad passed away in 1993.  It's hard to believe I haven't heard that laugh, seen that toothy grin or complained about the world around us with him in 18 years.  That is almost the age I was when he passed.  I was 19.  I toast his memory within myself all the time but for some reason on the day that marks the anniversary it is harder.  It pisses me off that he will never meet my children here on earth.  It pisses me off even more that they won't ever truly understand his character and how great he actually was.  I suppose I try to show them through what I learned from him and display it daily...aaahh... some days it shines through more than others, of course.  He was my hero.  He was so passionate and had such a zing for life.  I am sad he'll never know he taught me to be this way.  Or, maybe he did know.  Maybe he saw it before that  night.  Maybe he just never said those exact words to me.  You can drive yourself nuts wondering 'what if's' but truth be told...all your doing is driving yourself nuts.  That's why what ifs are ridiculous.  I'll never forget when I was at his grave for the 2nd time and my mother and then bf Gary were with me.  He and I were up from Georgia.  Lady Di had just passed.  Like, we (me & Gary) were in the hotel room, at the Marriott in Danvers, Ma. and saw the news on the TV of Lady Di.  I absolutely lost it.  Not over her, over my dad having a grave stone that wasn't the size of  Stonehenge.  He was in the Army so he got their cookie cutter stone.   Did they not understand who he was for Christ sake?  I went back to the day they (Army people)  handed my brother and I the American Flag.  His Funeral.  I vowed then I would never take the meaning of the flag lightly.  And I haven't.   I had more waterworks than Niagara Falls, at his funeral and on this day.  My mom gave me an appropriate amount of time (how do they know how to do that anyway?) and she grabbed me by my shoulders and said  " Angela, you continue.  You are doing so well in life and you just continue."  It shocked me because at that point, in my 'roaring 20's' I thought she would just assume perform an exorcism on me.  Seriously - I kinda needed one.  But she smiled, looked at me confidently and told me to continue.  Holy crap.  That was one of my hallelujah moments.  I have only had one other, by the way.  If you must know, I tell myself that all the time..."you continue."  It was a defiant statement and had such and impact on me.  Perhaps I should tell her...  So Gary and I got in his Triumph and started our journey back to Georgia, inappropriately cracking a miller lite to begin the trip.  But that was us.
Well, in spite of my dad's death and everything else wrong in the world, my kids,  ALL of them can be a pain right in my ass.  There is a reason duct tape was invented and it goes much deeper than to hold old laundry baskets together.  Although, I think mom still has one thanks to duct tape from when I was in middle school. Jake and Em have been arguing so much lately, and quite frankly I don't blame them.  They are stuck in a room together.  It is the smallest room in the house and the 18 y/o step has (alone) the biggest bedroom in the house.  So many arguments so little time.  I suppose that statement will spark yet another.  He reads my blog sometimes.  Apparently, I stake out his kids and find ways to take them down.   What a bitch.  Ninja bitch.  How do I deal?  One glass at a time.  Also, one day at a time.  In fact one everything at a time, if you please.  Stop world.   Stop moving so fast.  Can't you see I have kids to raise?  Don't you understand you interfere?  And who else has been put in this position with their step daughter?  I am not equipped to handle this.  And then I hear it again...you continue.  That's exactly what I do.  Continue.  Besides I'd like to see him write a blog about this family and how he feels about my kids...or maybe I wouldn't.


Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be, Mary, Mother of Jesus, come to me and let it be...

Hottie Patottie??? Not so much...

We made it happen.  It was a group effort.  My second to oldest stepdaughter's 30th surprise party was a smashing success.  I apparently, however, had to relive the fact that I am over 30.  It was harder on me than it was on her.  She could have cared less that she was turning 30.  Me on the other hand - I had meltdown number 576 that I am 30.  Well, 30 with 7 years experience.  Good God, in my head I am still 25 and 90% of the time I act it.  I see other women my age and think...boy when I am as old as them I hope I have my act together like they do...minus the wrinkles. 

I guess I have taken the whole 'I don't wanna grow up i'ma toys-r-us kid' a bit too far.  Sometimes I think it is because my life didn't go as planned so I want a re-do and until I get it I will act the age I was when I really screwed up.  Well, got off course anyway.   Other times, when I speak with my friends from Maine, where I was raised, I think nah, I am right in line with them.  My hubbalicious (oddly enough I like him this week)  told me that I need to learn how to grow old gracefully.   WHAT?  Oh yes, the wrath of Ang came out when he said that.  "Heller dumb ass... have you met me?"  "Know this...I will fight it every inch (and wrinkle) of the way!"  At that point he mumbled something and went outside.  I admire many things about my husband.  His ability to not give a flying eff about anything is one of them.

So I guess planning a 30th b-day reminded me that I am pushing 40 and well things just aren't the quite the same.  It is so unfair that I still have teenage acne.  What the heck is that about?  I mean 7 years as a teen with it wasn't enough?  I have always struggled with it.  Thankfully, I became familiar with Arbonne and now have it under control.  The hormonal issues I have don't help but that can be a blog for the Vag chronicles.  UGH.
 Marines.
Ohhhhh those jarheads.  I have dealt with one before.  I reserved a VIP room at a club in Virginia Beach for before mentioned party.  About a week before party I see on their facebook status they are having a bikini contest that same night ~ right when we were due to arrive with the birthday girl.  Of course, my first thought was - I better not enter and make those younger girls feel bad about themselves.  Lovely.  Just what I would want on my b-day - a bunch of tight, hot Chic's in bikini's.  Well, by the time the contest started and they were up on stage, I was, of course their biggest fan.  I am guessing the wine and the Captain had something to do with that.  There was one in particular that I thought deserved the win - she was the only one who looked like she actually took care of herself not just vomited and smoked cigarettes to keep the weight at bay.  The pickin's were slim...no pun intended.  Anyway...when they announced to cheer for her I woot wooted and hoop hoooped and hollered.  I felt a tap on my shoulder.  I could tell by the haircut he was a Marine.  Probably about 23.  He said "Oh, is that your daughter?" ..... O....M.....F.....G.....  stopped me in my inebriated tracks.  What the eff?  Was he talking to me?  He was short in stature.  Clearly he doesn't know about the Kalogeris Elbow.   "EXCUSE ME?"  I said, he continued,  "that must be your daughter."  "NO."  That's my daughter."  and I pointed to Jenn, the 30 y/o b-day girl.  I even did the head shake point to chest thing with it.  Now if I had to guess I would say the girl on stage was 21 or 22 so technically....I suppose I could have been the one she calls 'mama'.  It cut deep. 
That was all it took.  Meltdown.  "I have 9 grandchildren and 3 of them are older than mine..."  I wept to Alan.  He could've cared less.  That is how I see it anyway.  Really I think what it is, is that he just doesn't care about what others think and is happy with me.  "I used to be the one guys were all over...I used to be the one they would check out and now I am the............old lady mom?"  "I'm the bikini ladies mmmmuuuuttthhherrrrrr?"  Tears ran down my cheeks.  Poor man had to hear the whole way home about how great I used to be and how much I now suck.  I am guessing it didn't do too much for his ego.  Apparently, I wanted his to match mine.

Earlier on in the eve, I had a polar opposite moment when I walked by a table kinda groovin' to the music and 2 younger Marines stopped me.  Again, I can tell by the haircut.  We were chattin' and I thanked them for their service.  They looked shocked.  That is sad, I thought to myself.  No one thanks them.  They were really cool and grateful that I commended them on their daily lives.    When I told them why I was there they again looked shocked.  "No way you have a stepdaughter that is 30."   I love these 2. 

The polka band that was playing in my head Sunday morning didn't bother me as much as the fact that some young guy thinks I am old.  I was depressed all day.  Didn't do a damn thing.  I didn't even go to church.  I laid my old, fat ass on the couch all day.  Then at some point I talked myself into the fact that she was so hot the only person who could be her mom was a hottie like me.  Yeah, that's the ticket.
God is great, my kids love me (most of them most of the time) and what the heck..I ain't half bad for a 37 year old dame. 

There are varying opinions on how Mother's day originated.  I, of course choose to believe the Greeks had something to do with it.  We usually do.  However it came to be, it is nice that we can be recognized for our greatness.  For all we do the other 364 days in the year.   Homemade cards from the kids are always my favorite thing to receive.  Their little hands and big imaginations put such hard work into them.  Jake thinks that I sing like an angle.  Obviously he means Angel but to be honest I am just shocked he chose to say that because he normally asks me to not sing ~ it hurts his ears or something.  He also wants to take me to DD and get me a hot cup of coffee and a donut.  He's got me pegged.   Apparently, in  Emma's eyes I am smart because I do things rite.  I make her laugh because I sing "I like big butts..." and she likes it when I sing Taylor Swift.  Hmmm I am not sure about this new found enjoyment my kids have of my voice.  Perhaps I should take them to have their ears checked?

I know their teachers gave the kids supplies so they could extend these beautiful and kinda funny (and definitely misspelled)  thoughts to me.  I appreciate them for that. 

If you go by "Mom" to someone, whether it be bio, step, adoption - it matters not.  What matters is the love that exists.  Open your heart to love and you will find joy. 

Ladies, pamper yourselves and take this day for what it is...yours. The laundry, dishes, toilets, vacuuming, mopping can wait.  Alan offered to take us out for dinner tonight.  I apparently had a moment because I said "No, I'll cook."  What the eff was I thinking?  Maybe the wine last night has blurred my vision and thought process.  Nah - that can't be it.  Must be the rain.   Immerse yourself in relaxation, whatever that may be for you. 

Fear not...I am sure in my next post I'll be back to bitchin' up a storm.  That broom can only sit idle for so long...

Where is my broom? It's flyin' time...

Favoritism.
The other "f" word and it gets thrown around my house like you wouldn't believe.  Sometimes, depending on situation it can be preceded by my fave"f" word.
Being in a blended family can be so trifling at times I just want to leave.  You know those toddlers that throw themselves down and bang every body part on the floor and scream?  Some days I would like to do just that.  On more than one occasion I have said "Had I known it would be like this I never would've married you."  I am guessing I said that to my two ex husbands as well.  Of course I wouldn't marry someone if I knew the outcome would be divorce.  Well, except that one time.  I have begged him to explain to me why he favors one of his sons.  He can't.  It is almost as if he is scared to upset him or rattle his cage at all.  He yells at my kids if they leave a toy downstairs or outside or if their room isn't picked up.  His kid gets away with everything.  I can't even describe the mess or SMELL in stepsons room, yet nothing is said to him.  He is like a Drill Sergeant with my kids.  Well guess whose cage it rattles?  MINE!  I get so ticked off when I see the double standards he has.  I get at my breaking point.  I seriously consider leaving him.  So much stress would be lifted off me.  But, the more I pray on it the more God lays it on my heart to stay so I obey.  I try so hard to react better than I have in the past to the same issues that keep arising but some days he is just impossible.  Over this last week I pointed out several times his double standard as it surfaced.  I was going for the dogs nose in dog poop on carpet approach.  Didn't work so well.  You can't teach an old dog new tricks.  He couldn't deny I was right, however he didn't admit I was either.  He just kinda passed it off.  I wish he would show recognition for ALL the kids instead of just one.  And hey, how about throwing your wife some support?  I am half Greek and half Irish and things don't just roll off my back.  I am extremely hot tempered. I hold grudges.  Oh, and I am tired of cleaning out certain teenagers pubes in the bathtub before my kids take a bath.  Eww, I know.  I gag.  I know who uses the stridex wipes on their face in this house, therefore I know who the three around the bathroom trash can, the ones that have been  laying on the floor for over a week - completely visible to all I am sure,  I know who they belong to.   Last night dear husband had me infuriated when he told me he had to pick up a toy outside.  This prompted me to have the brilliant idea of keeping a list for a week of everything I do that relates to picking up after others, him included.  We will do a comparison at weeks end.  I win.  While he was picking up that one toy - gee hope he didn't hurt himself...I was cleaning his sons blood off the bathroom floor that had been there for three days that I had asked him (son) to clean up,  putting the towels away that I asked him (son) to do and cooking supper.  Wah wah wah.  I think sometimes I am just on automatic pilot and do everything and they know that so they take advantage.  They have come to expect it.   
At least my skin looks amazing.  Thank you Arbonne for that.  If it weren't for you I'd have more wrinkles than a shar pei.
Yesterday we argued for most of the day about a house we don't live in yet and a situation that hasn't come about yet.  What's up with that?

M is for MOTHER...not MAID!

It challenges all us mommies. Stay home dads too, I am sure.   It can make your blood pressure rise.  It can make you want to go on strike.  It is so frustrating you want to scream, and sometimes succumb to just that.

They mess up what you have just cleaned.

Floors, bathrooms, beds, dishes, neatly folded laundry, table, microwave, counter tops...it doesn't matter, they are not picky, they'll screw it up!
You are not their maid.  You are a person who has feelings, emotions and the right to get upset when things are not how you want them.  And no, it isn't always your hormones.  It's their friggin' actions!  My oldest, my husband,  participates in this as well.  I could easily list ten things I did and they undid in the last 24 hours.  I get that the house will get messy again, we live here.  It's just...could I please have five flippin' minutes of glory in a clean house?  No.  The answer is No.  There was a wrapper for a subway straw on the top of the stairs for over a week.  I left it and since no one in the house is blind I know I am not the only one who saw it.  Eventually, it made its way to the bottom step.  Yesterday I pointed it out to the hubby.  "Yeah...I know it's been there like three days or so."  Really?  He is admitting that he has known about it and God love him he knows it was longer than three days.  He took the five seconds out of his busy schedule to pick it up and throw it out.  Oh, my oldest stepson works at Subway by the way. 
I find it amazing that I am the only one in the house who knows how to load and unload the dishwasher.  What a talent.  It never fails, as soon as the sink is free of dishes a bowl or cup mysteriously show up.  Speaking of cups - get one for the day not four throughout the day.  I mean how am I supposed to be able to lounge around and watch my reality TV while munching on bon bons if I have all these people to pick up after?  Did you know we have special toilets that when they are cleaned they send out an electro-vibe that lets one of the kids know it is time to come pee on the seat again?  I bet Alan paid extra for that.  First thing yesterday morning I straightened up the living room, complete with pillow arrangement/cushion fluff on both couches and the big chair.  I vacuumed and was impressed with how good it looked.  That lasted maybe, maybe five minutes.  Now, I know who jacked it up because there was only three of us here.  Stepson fourteen is on school vaca this week.  He managed to sit on both couches and the big chair, and somehow completely undo my beautifully fluffed cushion /pillow masterpiece and tracked grass and dirt in on the freshly vacuumed floor.  Also, the teddy bear that sits in the rocking chair was thrown across the room.  Yup, crazy making at it's finest.  Clearly this was done intentionally as he has on more than one occasion expressed his complete and utter dislike for me.  And if I say anything a huge argument will erupt between the hubby and I.  What's a girl to do?
Last night there was a sugar daddy wrapper on the coffee table - I noticed it around nine and asked, just to make sure one of my little angels didn't sneak it, whose it was.  It was darling husbands.  Guess where the wrapper is this morning?  Some of this may sound petty but it's not.  These are just a few examples of my daily frustrations that I am sure so many can relate to. Hmmm look, the table didn't get wiped after dinner last night.  Time to go put on my Super Mom cape and get this house neat and in order so they have something to do today...mess it up.  Yuck, it's laundry day.   Oh well, it could be worse.  The kids are healthy, Alan and I have been getting along better and I do have days when I don't want to choke him.  See, improvements.  Yessah, by God, I think we just might make it.

God is great, wine is good and my son makes me crazy...

I thought I was going to lose it on my little 8 y/o ADHD/ODD boy in Harris Teeter today.  For those non-Virginians - that is a grocery store.  I thought he was 3 again and I also thought if I had my belt on, unfortunately with the dunlap disease (my belly dunlap over my waistband) I no longer need it with these jeans, I would angrily pull it off my 26 inch (in my mind) waist and let him have it. 
He has the biggest heart.  He loves to make people smile.  I suppose he gets that from me and I got it from my dad.  My dad.  What a guy.  He was my most favorite person in this whole wide world I ever met.  He died when I was 19 and into my adulthood I often wondered how different my life would have been with him around.  By the way, he's still my most favorite person I ever met.  I call upon him often while going through the struggles of raising kids.  I don't know if he can hear me or not, but I believe he can.  I believe this because as soon as Jake came out (my mom was in the delivery room I heard "HE'S GUT YOUR FATHAH'S EAH'S")  Non Yanks...He has your father's ears.  'Good' is what I thought to myself because I need dad to hear me.  I also needed a cheesburger, fries and vanilla shake but that'll be a blog about giving birth.  His Boston Red Sox baseball cap hangs right next to my desk and when I get discouraged I put it on.  I guess I could call it my thinking cap, however like him, I don't really think, I just do.  I am Greek and I am passionate.  I love to love and have a zest for life.  Sometimes I let circumstances get in the way of that and that reminds me that I am also hot tempered, which brings me back to Jake in the store.  Holy crap.  I think I said "get off the front of the cart" at least 18 times.  Geesh we were running into people and they didn't like that so much.  You have your occasional empathetic moms or grandmas..."oooohhhh, don't worry dear, this phase will pass."  I think to myself   "are you effin kidding me?  We have been here for 8 years!   Not a phase."   My face says otherwise as I just smile and say "I hope so."   You also get what I refer to as "The look."  It is someone middle aged who probably never had kids, or if they did it was one of those perfectly behaved ones.  This same look, oddly enough can come from a young 20 something who is thinking to themselves "nope, NEVER going there."  Who needs birth control?  Just go to the same store  I am in.  Guarantee no teen pregnancies. 
I also love it when they say "your going to miss this."  "Really? "  I think to myself, because right now I want to gouge my eyeballs out so the ambulance can take me away to a happy place.  Then there's check out.  Why oh why do they have to put the candy and gum (and In touch weekly) right there?  Because they are genius at marketing!  They know full well I am at my wits end and will buy them anything to shut them up.  Oh, and the mag's?   Brilliant because after the exhausting 20 minutes I just spent buying milk and cheese and pasta I deserve a little me time when they go to bed to read up on some completely false bullshit about Hollywood.  Ahhh, at this point at least I am reading.  Did I mention that before we went in we were in the drive thru at the credit union and my car (w/new engine) started smoking?  I shut her off and knew from the smell it was anti freeze.  So the son-in-law (no, not Pauly Shore) came to my rescue and put the damn hose back in place and it was all good.  I probably could've done it myself, but ya know.  The men need to know they are needed!  At least I was depositing and not withdrawing.  Oh, and I had just filled her up and it was only $30.00.  I say only because that is opposed to the well over $100.00 to fill the suburban.  How can I not smile? 
Oh, and back to the challenging  well....tomorrow's another day.  I love that Jake thinks that God made the huge winds that came through Hampton Roads just to remind people that God is here.  After I heard him say that I caught a jolt.  Yup, God had spoken to me through my son. Isn't God amazing?  Oh, and by the way I think my son is too.  As always, wine doesn't hurt and Emma is my precious sweetheart that keeps me sane.

Jesum Crow

Today I worked in one of my garden's until my fingers cramped from pulling so many weeds.  The end result is what keeps me going.  Fresh veggies grown right here in my yard.  No chemicals, the only transporting is from the garden to my kitchen in a basket.  No wondering if people sneezed on them in the grocery store.  Yup, well worth the labor. 
A lot of things are worth the tough times if you know the end result will be fulfilling and what you ultimately want.  But, do we ever really know?  Nope, sure don't ~ so just enjoy the ride.  I think we make countless decisions daily that affect our lives in more ways than we realize.  They may seem so minor that we barely have to think about them but if we chose differently our whole lives could be changed...forever.

Okay, enough of that insightful bunk.

I tend to check myself out in every mirror or reflective glass, basically anything I can catch a glimpse of the beauty that I call me.  Apparently I have always been this way because EVERY time my mom is around me she says "Still can't get passed the mirrors, can you?"  "Ummm, excuse me but if you were this good looking would you be able to?"  It got even worse in my twenties.  Now this being said there are days when I look awful to myself and feel like an overgrown water buffalo.  My confidence level is zero and I feel like a zero.  They come about once a month.  Alan loves them.  He's learned to steer clear.  Sometimes I think he breaks things on the RV just so he can get the eff away from me.  He has days when he is no ray of sunshine too though.  Geesh.  I mean what's his problem?  I am the one with the ovarian cysts and endometreosis throwing my hormones off balance.  Explain your mantrums, Alan.
  Some days I feel like all household members have a conspiracy against me.  I clean, they dirty.  I pick up, they leave a mess.  I sweep, they bring dirt in.  I do dishes, they fill up the sink.  I cook, they eat.  I wipe something down, they leave crumbs on it.  This all happens within 5 min's of my cleaning.  What is this about?  I know people can relate.  Oh, and by the way when you see I am doing laundry don't bring your hamper down the next morning over Flowing with dirty clothes and expect it to get done.  Ain't happenin' in this house muchacho.  So instead, it sits there in my way for 2 days until I do laundry again.  I probably move it like 20 times, but by God I will not do it right then. Thank God for spell check AND wine. 

Me, Me, Me. It's all about Me.

I could go on for pages and pages of the list of gripes I have about the co-parenting, lack of co-parenting, lack of love and nobody helps with the flippin' trash but instead I choose to take a positive route this time.  I have realized that the only person I can change is me.  Yup, as much as we may want to carve out a whole new person in someone we once fell in love with it ain't gonna happen.  Did you know if you pray hard enough about something God will give you the answer in your heart?  Well, I always ignored that.  Man, had I listened I could've saved myself so much grief!  Thankfully he worked his magic in spite of me.  He's good like that.
I have decided to regroup my life.  That is right, I am taking control and going to do things that I can to improve ME!  Being inside your thoughts and really digging deep into the cause of your unhappiness is a very scary place to be.  Well it was for me anyway!  In a conversation I had a few weeks ago with a friend who has been  married since right after high school, to the same person (that's new to me) ha ha ha I asked how she and hubby did it.  They are insanely happy.  Clearly being on #3 I haven't figured it out yet.  I said "Oh, I know, you wear the pants."  "NO." That was her answer and boy did that shock me.  "We do what I like to call the three legged race.  We each have one leg in and work together."  I doubt she knows how much of an impact that had on me. Frickin' brilliant.  The three legged race.  By the way, that would be my high school days so almost 20 years and they have a daughter in her first year in college.
Back to me.  Ahh yes, my favorite person.  I have decided to get healthy inside.  Not diggin' the way the jeans are fitting.  Arbonne Essentials are going to help me achieve my goals.  You want change?  Do not look to Obama.  Look within.