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.
Hiking on the Parkway...
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
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...
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...
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
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...
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...
Monday, May 2, 2011
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?
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?
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