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.
Hiking on the Parkway...
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
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
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.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
20 Years and can still do the running man.
Forty eight hours ago I was on I-95 south in Waterville, just starting the long trip home. The temperature was cool at this point so it mattered not that the AC decided to quit in my car while on this trip. Each time I pull out of Mom's driveway, my childhood home, I get jarred back to when I was 21 and pulling out of that driveway "for good." Heading to Montana in my car with $500.00 to my name and a bunch of dreams on my mind and a huge grin on my face. Oh, and divorce #1 underway.
This trip was especially nostalgic for me, as it was my twenty year class reunion. Twenty flippin' years.
I wasn't in the 'popular' click in high school and really thought twice about going to the reunion. I mean seriously, why would I want to see a bunch of people I wasn't friends with? Those that looked down their noses at me in the halls of Hampden Academy? Why? Because I am slimmer than I was back then and covertly hoped they were all fat. Who needs a better reason than that? I am also pretty nosy and was curious as to where life had taken people. I must say, we all look pretty damn good as we are rapidly approaching 40. Less than half the class showed up. More did show up for the adults only evening...well I'll say it like it was... beer fest. For me, being back home, seeing everyone, most I hadn't seen for 20 years, caused me to reflect on where I am at in life. Am I truly happy? Am I where I want to be? Would my children be better off up here? Are the Red Sox going to take it ever again? Is that a pimple erupting on my chin? Why are my husband and I on separate vacations? Do my gray hairs stand out to them as much as they do to me? All of those questions ran through my head in like 15 seconds. No ADD here.
Anyway it was a fun time and I am glad I went. I was pleasantly surprised by how much fun I had. And yes, I can do the running man in flip flops. Impressive. Some of us ended the night (actually morning) at Dysart's for some extra calories in case the million from the beer weren't enough. I am grateful to all who planned, you did a fab job. I know how busy everyone is so thanks for taking the time out of your busy lives to make sure we could all get drunk together again. :)
We lost 4 of our classmates before graduation. Over the years I have wondered who they would be if they were still here. Would they have gone to college? What would they have named their children? Now, as a parent I tear up for different reasons then before. I can't even begin to imagine what their parents, or any parents go through when they lose a child. Perhaps one of the reasons I have lived life in the fast lane is because they were taken from us so young so I have chosen to live each day to the fullest. Being content has always been my biggest struggle and I suppose it always will be. I want to do it all. I want to see everything. I have done a lot and seen a lot and have thought of Jamie, Mike, Chad and Robbie in my travels. I thought of them when I was at Yosemite and Yellowstone and Mt. Rushmore. I thought of them on my hikes on the Parkway and throughout Oregon. They have even come to mind while I have been in Vegas. They all loved life. And they all are on our minds and living right along with us in our hearts. "It ain't fair you died too young, like a story that had just begun but death tore the pages all apart..."
Remember how I said I didn't mind the AC being out at the start of the trip? Well it sucked out loud from Massachusetts on. Sitting in the flippin' Bronx for 3 hours with the sun beating down on you and no AC just plain sucked. But I know...it could always be worse. I try to keep that in mind - when I am in crappy situations...it could always be worse. And at some points in my life, it has been.
This trip was especially nostalgic for me, as it was my twenty year class reunion. Twenty flippin' years.
I wasn't in the 'popular' click in high school and really thought twice about going to the reunion. I mean seriously, why would I want to see a bunch of people I wasn't friends with? Those that looked down their noses at me in the halls of Hampden Academy? Why? Because I am slimmer than I was back then and covertly hoped they were all fat. Who needs a better reason than that? I am also pretty nosy and was curious as to where life had taken people. I must say, we all look pretty damn good as we are rapidly approaching 40. Less than half the class showed up. More did show up for the adults only evening...well I'll say it like it was... beer fest. For me, being back home, seeing everyone, most I hadn't seen for 20 years, caused me to reflect on where I am at in life. Am I truly happy? Am I where I want to be? Would my children be better off up here? Are the Red Sox going to take it ever again? Is that a pimple erupting on my chin? Why are my husband and I on separate vacations? Do my gray hairs stand out to them as much as they do to me? All of those questions ran through my head in like 15 seconds. No ADD here.
Anyway it was a fun time and I am glad I went. I was pleasantly surprised by how much fun I had. And yes, I can do the running man in flip flops. Impressive. Some of us ended the night (actually morning) at Dysart's for some extra calories in case the million from the beer weren't enough. I am grateful to all who planned, you did a fab job. I know how busy everyone is so thanks for taking the time out of your busy lives to make sure we could all get drunk together again. :)
We lost 4 of our classmates before graduation. Over the years I have wondered who they would be if they were still here. Would they have gone to college? What would they have named their children? Now, as a parent I tear up for different reasons then before. I can't even begin to imagine what their parents, or any parents go through when they lose a child. Perhaps one of the reasons I have lived life in the fast lane is because they were taken from us so young so I have chosen to live each day to the fullest. Being content has always been my biggest struggle and I suppose it always will be. I want to do it all. I want to see everything. I have done a lot and seen a lot and have thought of Jamie, Mike, Chad and Robbie in my travels. I thought of them when I was at Yosemite and Yellowstone and Mt. Rushmore. I thought of them on my hikes on the Parkway and throughout Oregon. They have even come to mind while I have been in Vegas. They all loved life. And they all are on our minds and living right along with us in our hearts. "It ain't fair you died too young, like a story that had just begun but death tore the pages all apart..."
Remember how I said I didn't mind the AC being out at the start of the trip? Well it sucked out loud from Massachusetts on. Sitting in the flippin' Bronx for 3 hours with the sun beating down on you and no AC just plain sucked. But I know...it could always be worse. I try to keep that in mind - when I am in crappy situations...it could always be worse. And at some points in my life, it has been.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
I can't stand his favoritism. I can't understand it either. Does this kid have something on him? Why treat him so differently than all the others?
Okay, I feel a tad better after typing that. I suppose it is better than running outside with my apron on, rolling pin in hand screaming at him. <like I wanna do> We'd make a fabulously entertaining reality show. Times like these make me wish I had said "I do NOT" instead of "I do". I wonder how the preacher would've reacted? Always it seems to be when one thing sets me off I think of every other little damn thing he has done to make my blood pressure soar and I go into eff you mode, aka shutdown.
Blended families are difficult.
I don't think I can say it enough. At first, it's all wine and roses (literally) and then everyone starts to get kinda sorta comfy in this new living situation and BAM. I'll never ever forget the time when my then 9 y/o stepson (Alan & I weren't married too long) (and this is the one that hates me) well, I had gone to their mom's to pick all 3 of them up. 9 y/o was asking a question..."Angela -slash- Mom..." We ALL laughed. "Yes, Patrick - slash- son?" And it was said just as you are reading. I think Patrick didn't know what to call me. Bitch likely would've been his preference. I think it was at that moment it hit me. I got more on my plate than I can handle. And oh boy, I had no idea.
Years later the kid makes it clear that he hates me. The days ofAngela-slash-mom are gone. Well the outspoken version anyway. None of them have a lick of respect for me and the only person I blame is the one who is currently outside angrily weed eating the places of the lawn the mower can't reach. My dear husband. Ahhh, yes, that would be the one that I just watched throw a cooler across the deck because I had a high chair (for his grand kids) and some grocery store bags I was going to recycle at target - apparently -mistakenly on the deck. GREAT reason to flip out. What I would like to say (scream) right now is "Hey Sgt. Pecker head ~ take your attitude elsewhere." Somehow I refrain. I am so getting better at holding my tongue. I hear Emma in the background "hey Jacob, if you want your nose to stop being red just put your Popsicle on it for about 39 times." Whatever in the hell that means it made me smile.
Sometimes just to know my children exist is all it takes to make me smile. Other times, however it makes me frown... When I think about how much worse we could have it I am thankful. I really mean that. I understand that I should just appreciate what we do have and not take any breath for granted. Life is more so precious than it is challenging. Some days that is so hard to remember. And some days if I could drill that into his head I would. Really? You want to have a fit about some bags and a high chair when I have a niece with a bad heart and brother in law waiting on lungs from a donor? And by the way, that brother-in-law has 2 young kiddos and needs massive prayers. Get over yourself, dear husband. Get over how the yard 'looks' to people. I mean Jesum Crow we have the nicest yard on Battlefield Blvd. We win. Isn't it enough that we win in my eyes? You can fix anything and I admire you more than I have ever admired anyone...can't that be enough? I guess it's not. So we continue...
Okay, I feel a tad better after typing that. I suppose it is better than running outside with my apron on, rolling pin in hand screaming at him. <like I wanna do> We'd make a fabulously entertaining reality show. Times like these make me wish I had said "I do NOT" instead of "I do". I wonder how the preacher would've reacted? Always it seems to be when one thing sets me off I think of every other little damn thing he has done to make my blood pressure soar and I go into eff you mode, aka shutdown.
Blended families are difficult.
I don't think I can say it enough. At first, it's all wine and roses (literally) and then everyone starts to get kinda sorta comfy in this new living situation and BAM. I'll never ever forget the time when my then 9 y/o stepson (Alan & I weren't married too long) (and this is the one that hates me) well, I had gone to their mom's to pick all 3 of them up. 9 y/o was asking a question..."Angela -slash- Mom..." We ALL laughed. "Yes, Patrick - slash- son?" And it was said just as you are reading. I think Patrick didn't know what to call me. Bitch likely would've been his preference. I think it was at that moment it hit me. I got more on my plate than I can handle. And oh boy, I had no idea.
Years later the kid makes it clear that he hates me. The days ofAngela-slash-mom are gone. Well the outspoken version anyway. None of them have a lick of respect for me and the only person I blame is the one who is currently outside angrily weed eating the places of the lawn the mower can't reach. My dear husband. Ahhh, yes, that would be the one that I just watched throw a cooler across the deck because I had a high chair (for his grand kids) and some grocery store bags I was going to recycle at target - apparently -mistakenly on the deck. GREAT reason to flip out. What I would like to say (scream) right now is "Hey Sgt. Pecker head ~ take your attitude elsewhere." Somehow I refrain. I am so getting better at holding my tongue. I hear Emma in the background "hey Jacob, if you want your nose to stop being red just put your Popsicle on it for about 39 times." Whatever in the hell that means it made me smile.
Sometimes just to know my children exist is all it takes to make me smile. Other times, however it makes me frown... When I think about how much worse we could have it I am thankful. I really mean that. I understand that I should just appreciate what we do have and not take any breath for granted. Life is more so precious than it is challenging. Some days that is so hard to remember. And some days if I could drill that into his head I would. Really? You want to have a fit about some bags and a high chair when I have a niece with a bad heart and brother in law waiting on lungs from a donor? And by the way, that brother-in-law has 2 young kiddos and needs massive prayers. Get over yourself, dear husband. Get over how the yard 'looks' to people. I mean Jesum Crow we have the nicest yard on Battlefield Blvd. We win. Isn't it enough that we win in my eyes? You can fix anything and I admire you more than I have ever admired anyone...can't that be enough? I guess it's not. So we continue...
Sunday, May 29, 2011
The good wife.
Oh yes, a beautiful wedding. And as I listened to my pastor speak and to my friends say their vows love was in the air...
I am a great wife. I know this. Otherwise, BOTH of my exes and an ex fiancee wouldn't want me back. You would think that would be a good thing but ahhhhh....not so much. Well, I am about to add another into the pile of relationship rubble if current hubby doesn't ... ahem...'straighten up'. I simply refuse to 'worship' my man if I don't get treated respectfully back. And no, bible thumpers, that's not asking too much.
No people, I am not a bitch. Just at my breaking point. Five years later. It is no longer cute when I 'get' to pick up after him. It is no longer sweet when he brings me roses from the yard and I have to pick up the trail from the kitchen (cuz I am ALWAYS in there) to the front door. I no longer adore the way he brushes his teeth or leaves hair all in the bathroom sink. These things all friggin' annoy me. They seem to annoy me more so when he and I are in a heated discussion about the kids. Every little effin thing he does that irritates the crap outta me comes out right in that moment. I get that vain thing in my temple. They all spin in my head like a tornado. As a bonus the whole time we are arguing I am also contemplating whether to do the dishes or laundry first which reminds me of why in the hell should I have to do all those solely? And Jake please stop tuggin' on my friggin' arm so I can recall the horrible thing I was going to fuss at your stepfather about instead of fussing you out. TH-THUMP TH-THUMP TH-THUMP... calm down - hearts are NOT supposed to be in throats. Regain composure. Now, about that laundry..."You are impossible." I holler. "I am NOT doing this right now." "Really? Would tomorrow at 2 be better? Can I call ya then?" I am awful sometimes. But awful within reason. He always walks away when he knows I am right and has no argument. That being said he has admitted a few times here and there that he should've listened to me because I was right. Why in the world is being right so important?
It's not.
Marriage shouldn't be about being right or wrong. It should be about a mutual respect for each other and walking a straight path toward and in love together. It should be about whatever is important to both of you and letting those things soar into forever. It should be filled with happy and smiles. It shouldn't be filled with blame and anger. Nor should it be filled with hate. And sometimes I think that is where mine has gotten to. Hate. It has nothing to do with he and I alone. It has everything to do with the kids. None excluded. So much anxiety and anger built up over the years. So many circumstances set aside and rearing their ugly heads now. So many unfinished thoughts...so many times of angst that show up later. We also have the problem that we are strong willed, each of us. How in the hell do we let go and let the other control? If I go by the bible I suppose I am supposed to obey. Chuckle Chuckle. Me, obey? Are you serious? I don't believe that is in my genes.
He hates it when I pull the favoritism card, yet in the same breath he can't ever deny it. Our problem is not our marriage. Our problem is a power struggle. Over kids who will one day be able to make the call - "Yes" or "No" when the makeshift Doctor at the nursing home asks..."Do you want to keep them hooked up?" The thing with blended families is, if you don't blend them they don't work. And oh boy we have sucked at it.
Ugh. I need a good dose of Maine people, yessah by golly I do believe so! I mean, Jesum Crow.
Emma had strep throat and Anthem Healthkeepers was a huge pain in the ass about it. They'll know my stand on Tuesday. And by the way, I'll be right.
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.
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.
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