Preacher Perry here....

Okay, if you know me you know I am a stumbling trying as best I can Christian.  I have been through so much stuff - some circumstance and some self induced - that when I was 25 my mom would constantly tell me that I had been through more than most 45 y/o's she knew.  I saw that as an advantage.  But really, I didn't display at the time that I was learning lessons.
Today I choose to write about me.  It isn't a post about trials of a blended family.  It is a story that I would like to share.  I felt someone, weather or not I personally know them needs to read it.  God is good like that, so I will give him the glory for this one.
About umpteen years ago I rented a basement apartment in Cleveland, Ga.  Yes, that is the home of the Cabbage Patch Kids.  Anyway, I kind of accidentally happened upon this place and really liked the lady ( Dana) who would be my landlord and lived above me with her lovely family, a husband and 2 young kids.  She was a realtor in town and was always smiling.  I was kind of  definitely drinking alcohol of whatever sort way too much.  I didn't drink to a level that it interfered completely with my bills and responsibilities, but I could have spent happy hour being way more productive than making my presence known at Southside Bar and Grill. Many Saturday nights I would catch a ride home with, oh basically whoever chose to babysit me that night or was threatened by Nancy to get me home safely.  I would do the walk of shame/pride ( pride because I didn't drink and drive) up to Dana's the following morning and knew they would be getting ready to go to their Southern Baptist church in Helen.  "Hey...so my jeep got drunk last night and I was wondering if I could catch a ride to town to retrieve it."  Her answer never changed  "Sure, Angie as long as you sit through service with us."  "Joe (her hubby), Angie's jeep got drunk again."  UGH!   I was always amazed that when I heard her preacher, with that southern drawl spewing the words of Jesus,... it was meant for me. ' God, I am a Catholic for Christ's sakes...oops sorry took your name in vain.'  Let me try again. ' God I am a Catholic. I can't hear this funny accent telling me the devil is leading my life.'  This is what my hungover ass would think at the time.  I left out the eff words, on the blog, not in the actual "praying".  Yeah, some Catholic.

Dana saw something in me that I didn't.  She had a belief in God that I didn't ... well quite understand yet.  See, when I prayed he heard, I just fought him at every step.  At some point I was behind on my rent, drunk most of the time and down.  I went with a friend to La.  No, not Los Angeles but Louisiana.  Baton Rouge to gamble.  I mean who doesn't do that when they have negative ten dollars to their name?  My friend was an older, like grandfather older, gentleman whom I loved dearly.  No, it wasn't whatever you are thinking.  It was a friendship that time nor age could match. And we laughed a lot.
Upon my return and being sober for about 15 hours I knew I had to face things.

 Finally I am getting to the part of the story that is fulfilling.

 He pulled in the drive and let me out of the car.  I knew what I had to do and was so scared and mad at myself.  "Knock, knock, knock"  "Hey Angie!"  With that bright smile.  "C'mon in!"  I couldn't hold the waterfall back.  I had made a mess of my life.  For some reason, I always feel worse when people are nice to me when I feel like crap.  "Don't cry." She said with her perfectly polished red lipstick.  "Please, don't be nice to me."  I begged.  "I don't deserve it."  She just took my hand in a knowing manor and led me to a chair at her dining room table.
After I told her how horrible my life had come to be and how awful I felt about myself she told me a story that she had heard from one of the elders at church but didn't really listen to the whole story so decided to take bits from it that spoke to her.  She has no idea of the magnificence of the effect on me of this simple story.  Basically, it was one day a couple was out driving and there was a red bird.  She actually said more in the story than that, but like her, I chose to hear what I needed to.  She said for her it boiled down to she would symbolize the red bird with Jesus and he would be there with her watching over.  So what I took from her shortened version of the story to make it my own is red bird = Jesus.  She continued to let me live there and I caught up on rent.  To this day my fave apartment is that one.  I even had my own huge deck.  What I didn't tell you is that before I even met her I had driven by the house with a friend, just riding around daydreaming, saw the house and told him boldly..."One day I will live there"  he said "yeah, right."  I didn't know where the feeling came from, but do now.

About 6 years ago I had my first red bird experience.  I had another today.  Sure, I have seen red birds in between these 2 times and thought of the story but none struck me as hard as 6 years ago and today.  I am wicked stressed about stuff I won't go into here, but it's a lot - walking into my dining room thinking to myself - facebook status "Go ahead Devil, keep up your crap.  I got God on my side."  Low and behold I look out the window and there is a beautiful Cardinal staring at me.  Yes God, I know you have my back.

So there it is and when you see a red bird I hope you know who is with you and watching you.

By the way, I now understand what she saw in me and it took me becoming someone better than I used to be to realize it.  She saw herself.

Blended families don't fail, remarriages do.

Alan and I thought we had everything figured out.  I listened to a lot of what he said because he had been in a blended family for most of his adult life.  My 'duh' mistake was that clearly those marriages didn't work so perhaps seeking alternate ways of doing things would have allowed different results.  I also wish there was someone who would've sat down with us and explained all the shit that was about to hit the fan.  The things you don't think of interrupting your marriage.  You are not just marrying the person who says "I do", you are marrying their kids, exes and anyone else in the family who thinks there two cents needs to be heard.  You are also marrying the baggage.  Yup, suitcases full.

In January we went to a counselor for the first time.  This took me two years of asking Alan to go to finally get a "yes".  I choose to share this experience because I know that whether or not they will publicly admit it people are going through something similar, have been through it or are about to enter a blended family, with their eyes wide shut.  STOP!  Let's chat first. Please.

Our session started off with the counselor looking at us after a few minutes with a blank, mouth ajar stare and in complete awe over how we are even together.  I think "shocked" was the word he used that we had not thrown in the towel. One of the problems is there are so many issues with the kids from the last six years that those issues erupt in a current argument and trying to get all this out was quite challenging.  I think we had this guy confused to the core on how we even function.  Before we married I asked Alan how we were going to make it work and his reply: "like a well oiled machine."

Darling, someone threw a wrench in the operation.

I think the counselor saw one thing that is clear.  We love each other and want our marriage to work.  Problem is neither is willing to bend to get to happiness. To be honest I figured I would be a hot mess in there with tears just streaming down my face waahhh waaah waaah coming out of my mouth.  Instead we all kind of chuckled now and then at how dysfunctional we actually are but still together.  He even gave us statistics of blended families as if to say ....  "you are fucked."  I was going off about eight things at once and he was all "my gosh you are ADD."  I am all "I have a lot I am pissed off about and am trying to get it all out in this one session and yes, I am quite ADD."  Alan chimes in "we both are..."  That was one of the chuckling moments.  There was a whole lot of head shaking going on.  A lot was said and he ended the session kind of unsure of the direction in which to point us (besides the eff out of his office).  He left us with this:  he wanted us to go off for a few days with each other and not bring up the kids whatsoever.  To "see if we still have the foundation on which we even got into the relationship." 
I am glad we left it like that.  No, not because we get a weekend away with no kids, though that doesn't hurt, but because that last line really made me think.  It opened up a whole new thought process for me about us.  The foundation that made us want to be us.  I realized that while floating down the aisle at my other two marriages  I was planning my escape route.  Not with Alan though.  At our pig pickin' casual wedding I couldn't wait to become Mrs. Alan Perry.  Shit had not reared it's ugly head yet.

There are so many things that people should know before blending families.  I feel like God is calling me to help others and perhaps within that I can help myself.

By the way, our marriage counseling appointment was on January 17th and we haven't even had a date night never mind time away to work on us and with our (his) schedules I don't see one in the future.  It's amazing how people react when you stop allowing yourself to be every body's doormat.  Our past baggage isn't each others to fix but it is right there in between us. Alan once told me that he would still be with his most recent ex if she hadn't left him.  I don't think that he realizes what that says to me is "I really want to be with someone else, but you'll do as an OK second."

Well, second best I am tired of being.

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.