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.