Somewhere between hell and California...Barstow that is.

I have been writing again!   Though I have plenty to bitch about in my current life I thought I would share a bit from what will one day be on the New York Times Best Seller list.  I have yet to come up with a title but when I do I am sure it will be fabulous.  After all, tales from this Diva just keep getting more and more delish. 
Yum- yum.  Read on.  Oh, but keep in mind this has not been to the editor!

We are finally seeing signs of civilization. 

Campground.  Yay.  I hop out as soon as we stop.  For some reason I was expecting relief and a cool breeze.  Instead it was like jumping from one sauna to another.  I grabbed Jake and Em and went into the store.  As always, we arrived late but this time we got there just in the nick o’ time while the store was still open for five more minutes.   Ice cream.  Heck to the yes.  I picked one out for everyone and brought them back to the Rv.  Me, Jake and Em were the only ones who ate them.  Whatever.  A pool.  Alan shocked me by offering to take the kids swimming. 

I also purchased the coins you need to take a shower here in the bath house.  Glad I got those after all the sweating of the day.  Ahhhhh the water felt so good as it washed over me.  Bedtime.  What a pain in the ass bedtime is turning the table into my kids bed, the couch into our bed and getting everyone to shut their mouths and eyes.  All I wanted was an hour with a tv and the E! or Bravo channel…

Quieting my mind is hard, eventually I drifted off to sleep. 

I awoke to find I wanted another shower.  Off to the bath house at the crack of dawn it was.  I always have a tiny fear that someone will break in and slit my throat.   Those coins I purchased were because there are locks on the stall doors.  I liked that.  God knows nobody would think to crawl underneath in those two feet at the bottom of the door if they really wanted to get to you. 

So I quickly showered, dried off and dressed.  I opened the door.  Oh my God.  Ahhhhh what is this?   There was a woman, I guess to be about in her late 50’s with her boobs flappin’ over the sink as she washed her armpits.  Holy fuck.  Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look I screamed to myself. There she stood with nothing but shorts on.   No!  This isn’t happening!  As I can’t hide anything, the expression on my face was, I am sure, priceless.   I can’t do my makeup with that next to me.  Don’t look, don’t look   <peek>    UGH!  I couldn’t help it.  It’s like when you meet someone and their fly is down and all you can hear is yourself telling you not to look down but you do anyway.  And then they are forever etched in your mind as guy with fly down.  They have no name to you and never will.

Hair and makeup can wait.  Must exit STAT.

Okie dokie that was a taste of it.  Can't give away too much.  Cheers! 

Armed and Fabulous...

Today started out crappy, but hey, at least it started.  At the early hour of 2 a.m.  I realized the stress insomnia is back.  I think I dozed back off around 5-ish, only to have to get up at 6 to get the little darlings started for the morning scream a thon.  Normal people refer to it as morning routine.  Not in this house.  I turn into a Drill Sergeant.  Make a good one, too.  Perhaps I missed my calling.

Tuesday happens to be trash day in our hood.  I happened to be the only one available to take the trash and recycling bins down to the road.  How convenient.  So after I got the kids ready and it was almost bus time I ventured outside to take the recycling down first.  That all went fine until I reached the end of the driveway and was doing the spin it around to face the road as I have at least two hundred times before and it fell over.
The contents landed in the one effin puddle that we had leftover from yesterdays rain.  Yup.  Not a shallow puddle either.
 I lost it. 
I started kicking at it and yelling.  We live on a highway so cars and dump trucks were just a whizzin' by at about 65 mph.  I must've looked like a lunatic.  In my rage I kept telling myself to find something positive about the situation. I guess that's called bi-polar anger moments.  So pissed you can't see straight yet telling yourself to find a positive.  Kind of like on Seinfeld when the dad would have to scream "SERENITY NOW".  I started picking it up and decided on my positive:  at least it wasn't raining. 

So on with my day I went. 

I wish I had been warned that today was going to be one of those days that you wish you had a pie to throw in someones face.  No one in particular (though currently I have plenty of selection) just  do it to make you feel better.
Well, instead I had to borrow Jacob's BB gun for my personal feel good moment.  The neighbors, as we do, have chickens.  The difference is ours are in a coop and theirs are free range.  They have 2 roosters - one is actually hatched from the current rooster and is excluded from the posse.  So the cock (hee hee) has taken to chillin' near our coop.  Clyde, my blue ribbon (in my eyes) rooster isn't taking too kindly to him.  Those hens are his bitches in the coop and he ain't about to share!  Well, while waiting for the kids to hop off the school bus, skip into the house and immediately do their homework without being told...Oh, June Cleaver moment gone...while waiting for the kids to sluggishly roam off the bus complaining about hunger pains and homework I heard my Clyde giving his get the eff away call and I spied that rooster trying to get in.  The scheming in my mind began.

Operation Cockfight to commence at 2:37.  

As soon as the kids were home the plan would be executed.  Kalogeris style.  I, with all my Jedi-sniper training (don't tell anyone) snuck out the back door.  There were my darling chickens.  I gave a nod to Clyde.  He made a funny noise and shit.. it was time.
I had loaded the BB gun and spotted the enemy.  With stealth like moves I began chasing it out of my garden while shooting and hollering at it to stay out of my yard.  Ummm, so yeah, the problem with BB guns is of course, that you have to do that thing in between each shot.  Even with that, I think he learned his lesson and won't be back...until tomorrow.   Wow.  I kinda felt better after my 'everything that could go wrong did' day.  I even hollered " I say I think, I say I think I say I think I defeated you young fella."  This, was of course done in my best FogHorn LegHorn impression.  Yeah, I know, I got issues...
Then I let Jacob finish the BB's off that were in it.  As I watched my 9 y/o boy shoot a memory flashed into my mind about two childhood friends. I believe the back sliding glass door at a home on Emerson Mill Rd. was the casualty of 2 bored, young teens with a bb gun.  The memory made me smile and a little nostalgically sad.  One of them passed away when we were in high school.  I caught my breath and realized that my day wasn't at all one of 'those days'.   That everything seemed multiplied as horrible only because my marriage is crumbling. I don't know what the future holds and I am scared to death to be alone with 2 children.  I bet my mom was as well, but she did it.  I think you get to a point when you understand that living is about smiling not arguing.   You get it.  You know your children have to be in a healthy environment to be raised. 
And all you want to do is throw your hands up in the air and say "I QUIT." 

But you don't.

Instead, you continue.

I want my children to have and see the best of me and right now they don't have that and are not seeing that.  But I guarantee they will. And one day when they understand the sacrifices I made for them they will smile - just as I do now for what my mom did for us. 
Jesus turned water into wine at a marriage for a reason.  Your gonna effin need it to get through it.  Smart guy, I think I'll listen to him more often.  I mean he's already answered several of  my prayers.  And I know he can't wait to see me smile again...

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!