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I became a stay-at-home mom in August of 2004. Dramaboy was 3 months old. I had gone back to work for a day or two after my 12-week maternity leave and I hated every second of it. The job sucked before I had Dramaboy and it sucked worse after. I was put on probation for something, probably too much personal time on the computer as usual and I told them, you know what, I quit anyway. Have fun. Bye.
Of course I had discussed this with hubs before quitting, just to make sure he would be ok going to one little old income for the family. I guess the rest is history. The past 4 years have been a blur. I have a hard time recalling the boys as babies, other than the fits they gave me. I feel like I have wasted almost every second of those 4 years because I didn’t use my time wisely. I didn’t scrapbook. I didn’t play with them more. I didn’t give them the best mom that they deserved.
I hate myself for that and nothing anyone can say will change my mind. I hate the mother I gave to my boys because they deserved better. I hate that I need anti-depressants just to funtion normally. I hate that I have a temper and yell or bark at them. I hate that I’m impatient with them. I hate it all.
Lately, as if you couldn’t tell, I have been on a deep, introspective trip. I’m living in the past. I’m regretting the things I did or didn’t do. I’m feeling guilty. I’m hating myself for not making the most of my free time with the boys and without. I’m the cliche for regrets and realizng things too late.
You have seen my post things about my wicked ways before. And, you have seen me post things about self-love and accepting who I am. My about me page talks about my epiphany that “I am who I am” and I’m ok with that now. But what it doesn’t say is that I’m only ok with who I am 50% of the time. This is a never-ending journey I guess. Just when I think I’ve got it all figured out and can accept myself, I fall off the deep end again.
Living in the past sucks. I know better; I know I should look forward and just keep going… keep trying to do the right thing. But that is easier said than done. I want to blame my dad for everything. I want to blame him for making me so screwed up. I want to blame him for moving us around so much that now I’m a restless soul. I want to blame him for my intense NEED for change…. not a DESIRE for change, a NEED! I can’t stay happy. I can’t be satisified. Just when I think I have gotten everything I want, I get restless again. I get jealous of everyone else because I think they have what I want.
When I get like this I forget the good parts of me. I feel like the bad negates anything good that is within me. I’m selfish and self-centered. I am uber forgetful and therefore constantly let people down. I’m not a good mother…. not every day anyway. I’m flaky. I’m impatient and restless. With traits like that how am I supposed to feel like a good person? And, even when I am having a good day I feel like it’s just a facade; like I’m being phony because I know the real me…. the ugly me. I feel like it is just a matter of time before I start letting people down again.
My heart isn’t fake. That much I know. I have a big, giant and loving heart and I wear it proudly on my sleeve. But dammit if I don’t keep letting people down…
I know I have a blessed life. But if I have all these amazing gifts, like my children, my husband, the roof over my head and even the damn loveable but uber-psychotic dog, why am I so dissatisfied? Why is the grass always greener? Why do I want something different? Is it just because moving and change has been engrained in me since birth? Do I just need a change of scenery?
That’s fine if I do, but I have a family now and I will DAMNED if I do to my kids what my father did to us! I want them to have stability in their lives so that they do not grow up and become adults and end up with my issues. I am greatful that I’m so adaptable and can deal with change… I love that about myself, but at the same time it created this constant NEED for change; this constant feeling of restlessness.
Whenever I hear about someone living in the same house for 50 years or working the same job for 30 years my eyeballs roll back into my head! All I can think is, “OMG! I WOULD GO NUTSO!”
When I begin to go down this dark road in my head, everything else gets affected too. Today, I realized that the inevitable has happened to me. I have lost my identity.
I have been a SAHM for 4 years and I’m going through what many at-home moms go through. Everything I am is wrapped up in my kids and my husband. My children cannot go 5 minutes without saying “mama!” in a way that means they need something. I’m not kidding. I hear that maybe in excess of 150 times a day. It is to the point where I wither away inside at that sound of “mama” because I can’t take it anymore. I feel like they are going to need me forever; like they are never going to be independent.
I used to look at families with babies and just smile and oogle and think, “oh how sweet! They must be so happy!”
You know what I think now? I think, “Heh! SUCKERS! Just wait till the little shit starts walking and talking! HAVE FUN!”
When did I become so friggin’ jaded?
I look at families now with older kids, 7, 8, 10… whatever, and I think, “OH I CANNOT WAIT FOR THAT! The boys will be more self-sufficient and I might actually have me-time!”
WTF? A few years ago I could not imagine my babies getting any older and I wanted to keep them young and helpless forever! Now I’m thinking, when do they leave for college?
Everyone who knows me knows that my boys are my life. I would die for them and I would die without them. That doesn’t even need to be said, but undoubtably someone might read this and think, “Shit, you don’t deserve to be a mother…” If anyone is reading this and thinking that then either A) you are not a mother yourself and couldn’t possibly understand or B) you are just a fucking idiot and way to pious to be reading this blog.
Now, with that little disclaimer out of the way, lets get back to my self-hate trip…
Hubs seems to think that I do have a lot of freedom even though I feel like I don’t. It’s all about perception I guess.
He seems to think that my once-monthly girl’s night out is enough to keep me happy.
He seems to think my 2 hours of freedom Monday through Friday should be enough to keep me happy.
He seems to think that being a student is enough to keep me from losing my mind.
Hm, right. Once a month… once every 31 days (give or take) I get to go out and have fun, adult converstation with my friends. It IS amazing and I cherish that one night every single month. So yes, I will give him that. However, it does NOT make up for the other 30 days of being strapped to my children for 24 hours a day.
The 2 hours of freedom daily? Right… those are spend doing homework or running errands. Not exactly fun me-time. However, I do revel in those 2 hours of peace without hearing “mama” 800 times.
The student thing? Heh. That doesn’t even desever a retort. Just a good old F/U will work.
I am not trying to be greedy here. I’m not asking for a GNO once a week or more time during the day to myself. I’m not asking for money to go shopping each month to buy the latest fashions (even though I do hate my current waredrobe). I’m not asking for anything. Number one, we don’t have the money for me to take a yoga class or a pottery class like I would love to do. Number two, I can sympathize with my husband because he gets up at 5:45am every day to go to a job that he HATES. Our entire survival hinges on his income. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders so why should I be asking for anything?
We can’t do everything we want to do because we each have 2-ton weights on our shoulders. He doesn’t get me and I don’t get him. But, I try to get him. I do empathize with him. I listen to him. I support him. What do I get in return? I get sarcasm. I get retorts that make me feel like my gripes aren’t worth anything. I get guilt trips. Thankyouverymuch.
Somehow I need to find me again. I need to find inner peace.
Now it’s time to pick up the boys from school and resume the chaos.
This is my very very very very first attempt EVER at editing video. I have a webcam now and thought I would give this a shot. I’m telling you now, it’s lame. It’s sad even. But I’m still somewhat proud of my mad editing skillz feeble attempt at making something halfway creative.
I would say enjoy… but that would just be silly.
And I just noticed that on one of my interchanges I misspelled “AND”. I put “ANT” instead. I definitely won’t quit my day job.
I know where I stand in the blog world. I’m not famous or infamous. I have a small readership and that makes me happy. I would love to be more like Kristi or Carly, but I’m not. It would take a lot more intelligence and humor to even put me close.
Even though I don’t have a large following or 20+ subscribers (But can I tell you how much I love my 15 subscribers! YOU ARE MY EVERYTHING PEOPLE!) I’m still a stat checker. I see you. All of you. Well, all dozen of you. Heh. But I see you, I click on your links, your blogs, I trace your steps to find out how you came to me. I’m self-absorbed nosey that way.
I even marvel at the number of disgusting web searches that bring you to me. You. Friggin’. Nasty. Perverts. “girls who love spanking testicles”. Seriously? They get worse, much much worse. And now, because I have typed that phrase out in my blog I’m going to get a million more nasty perverts looking on. Gross. This is why I have always avoided writing posts about the funny or obscene searches that bring people to my blog. Some are just so bad they are not worth repeating and it only encourages more sexual deviants to find me anyway.
I digress. Today, as I was looking through my stats I started thinking back to older posts, back in the day when I was first starting out as a blogger. While browsing through those “wet-behind-the-ears” posts I had to resist a strong urge to delete every lame thing I have ever said. I was horrified and embarrassed at things I had written. Like, this. Really? Shoot. Me. Dead.
Sometimes I was a tad out of left field, but potentially insightful.
Then there were posts with incriminating pictures. Oy.
There were many times that I posted things that I absolutely loved and thought were great, but others, not so much. Hmph.
Ugh, and then there is just the maladroit crap (gosh I love the thesaurus) that comes out of my insane head on one odd day.
I even had moments where I was able to scrape out 702 words on wind.
There was also some creative flops.
I have been blogging since 2006 and saw that yesterday I had written and posted my 450th post. When I first started, well, I shudder to think of that actually, I wish I could erase it all, but that would be silly. You have to start somewhere and grow. Hennyway, I have tried so hard to be a good blogger that sometimes my efforts are incredibly grandiose, pretentious and appear phony in that I was over-doing things. Other times they were just completely immature and nonsensical without an ounce of direction.
My efforts as of late have not necessarily improved that much, though. I still love big words and have certain favorites and will always try to expand my vocabulary but the difference is that now I put a bit more thought into my posts and try to appear as though I’m not trying so hard, even when I am. Is it working? Pft, I have no clue.
I feel more comfortable as a blogger though. That is the important thing. When there are news stories on the television or articles written about bloggers and how this new wave of connecting to others is sweeping the world I feel proud to say, “hey, I’m one of them!”. Moms seem to find blogging especially satisfying. The critics of mommybloggers and other scientific research gurus who feel that mommy-blogging is a way to disconnect yourself from real life and hide on the internet can kiss our collective asses. We ALL have real lives outside of the internet. I have real friends, real family, real problems. I simply enjoy writing, like the rest of us. It’s my hobby. It is my creativity. It is my outlet for thoughts that build in my head day to day. There are days where I spend hours on the computer reading blogs, writing my own and connecting with my cyber-friends. There are also plenty of other days where I’m not even home long enough to check my email because I’m doing “real things” outside of my home! Gasp!
Aaaannnnnd the claws retract, defenses down….
So, while I would like to erase my beginnings from the map, I guess I owe them gratitude instead. They showed me what not to do and how to better myself as a blogger. Without failure we can never know success, right? OH! Wait! Silly me, I still don’t know success! Heh. Regardless, I hope I have moved up the ladder a couple of steps.
But, you know what really makes me happy? Readers that have been with me from the very beginning or close to it, and are with me today… like Shionge. She is a pal, a peach, a gem! Lioux… you’re a peach too baby. Sweet sweet Lori. And Riley, whom I always profess my love to.
There are so many more of you who continue to stop by, I see you. I thank you. I love you. I read your blogs, often times in my bloglines so my visits may not register, but I’m there! I have evolved because of all of you. I’m greatful to have 15 subscribers but would love to have more. I used to have 16 but someone dropped me… that’s ok. I know I’m not the greatest blogger on the planet, nor am I even close to mediocre, but it’s fine! Really! I’m coo wit it. (See how cool I am that I can drop the L and the H and sound totally hip? Yeahhh)
One thing blogging has really shown me is that no matter how bad I am at it, I absolutely love writing. I really do. I have visions of being a freelancer for some magazine or newspaper. But, that requires talent and oh, um, maybe education? The classes I’m taking in college are getting me closer to my Associates degree and the classes that require several term papers are the ones I excel in. I just don’t think a few A’s and an Associates degree are going to get me gigs for a magazine. So I will stick with this for now.
I guess this stupid post is about blogger reflection, then and now, where we started and where we are. It’s about not hiding the embarrassing stuff from the beginning but accepting it and just trying to do better each and every post. Who would have thought that this, blogging, typing your thoughts out to strangers, would become important, thoughtworthy or prolific.
And now, I resume real life. Screaming at my boys. Feeding my face. Pooping. Letting my friend’s dog out while they are away. Facebooking (wait, that’s not real life either). Going to Wal-Mart. Preparing for my son to start preschool again next week. Birthday parties. Paying bills (thank you Lord for Checkfree and internet payments). And whatever else crosses my path day to day…
Happy Blogging. Happy Labor Day weekend. Much love from me to all of you.
*** Incidentally I just went to my bloglines to begin reading other blogs and noticed I’m now down to 14 subscribers. I try not to take it personal but dayum! But how can you not? I am losing people, that sucks!
I swear, I was not planning on changing the template again, but I just noticed that all of my other blog pages for this blog were gone, like my blogroll page. So, I had to change it. Forgive me. Please!!!
You can’t stay angry at this face, can you???
Of course you can’t.
Oh and THANK YOU TO ALL OF YOU for your help with the “Great ‘08 Hair Dilemma”. Problem solved, DraMa happy, and the sass is back!! All is right with the world.
It is done.
You all gave wonderful advice and critique’s and I, your humble blog servant (read: self-absorbed attention freak) followed the advice and made the leap… the leap into shorter, healthier hair.
This morning, I awoke with my hair heavy on my mind… heh!! What a pun! Because for real, my hair was heavy, on my mind, as in on my head, cuz it’s long, and thick, and heavy. I amuse me.
Anyway, I ran to my computer so I could try on those different hairstyles from this website that sweet, sweet Kim recommended. My heart was pounding. My chest was tight. My stomach relocated itself somewhere south of my bladder. I tried various styles and thought to myself, “I’m really going to do this. I’m ready. BUT I’M SO SKEEERRED!”
I called my SIL for moral support. I also sent her 4 of the looks I had saved so she could give me her opinions. She’s honest, I trusted her. If I look like a troll she will tell me. She had picked her favorite, and I agreed. Then, as luck would have it, my younger sister texted me. Since she was awake (I didn’t think she would be with it being 2 hours earlier in AZ and all and, well, she isn’t an early riser) I immediately called her and sent her the same 4 looks I had created. She picked the same one as my SIL. Hmph. It is done. The one look was liked by the three of us, and so it shall be.
I got ready, packed up my children and went out for the quest of getting my hair chopped right off. I still had trouble breathing, like, for real. I am not exaggerating when I say that my insides were all over the place and my chest was tight. Anyway, my children played with their toys completely oblivious to the angst I was feeling and the giant leap I was about to take. I was sitting in the chair stiffer than a 5 day old dead body.
I told the woman I couldn’t breathe and she said, “OMG! Is the cape to tight?”
I nervously giggled and said, “No, I’m just scared of this, that’s all.”
She offered to wait, she offered me time to reconsider, but I said no. “Just do it. No holding back. Cut. Once you start I can’t stop… so go!”
And it was done.
My boys played quietly and sweetly as if they understood what I was going through and didn’t want to make it any worse. Well, that’s pushing it. They just slipped into a parallel universe where fighting, screaming, tantrums and yelling aren’t even known. They came back to reality at Wal-Mart 30 minutes later.
I can breath now. Actually, I’m happy. I’m relieved. I am not one single bit regretful… yet. That is how I know it was time to let go. 6 inches were cut. That doesn’t seem like much, but if you would have seen a true, up to date before picture then you would have a better understanding of the drastic difference.
Hubs likes it, but that is an “I like it” as in, “You have done nothing but talk about your fucking hair for a week now and I’m so sick of it that I could jam dull pencils in my own ears just to make it stop! SO YES! I FUCKING LIKE ANYTHING YOU DO TO IT! JUST DO IT AND SHUT UP!”
Aside from that, I have two people who both said they really like it… two other people who would never lie to me… my sister and my BFF.
Now, in about 20 minutes I am going to make my grand entrance into my girl’s night out and probably be welcomed with gasps. None of them knew what I was going to do. I’m sure they will all say it looks nice even if they secretly hate it. And that is fine because they will soon be drunk and so will I and then I will force the truth out of them. Because you can’t lie when you are drunk.
And now… the picture you have all probably looked at before reading a single word of this
The new and improved DraMa…
Whaddaya think?
Refer to the list in yesterday’s post of what not to say, or I shall haunt you until the day you die and then continue to haunt your soul for all eternity.
I’m about to grovel and beg and plead and make a complete fool of myself. Here is me, on my knees, hands clasped, weeping and sobbing like a moron. I need your help! See, the reason your help is so much more important than say, hub’s or my sister’s is because, well, you can probably provide me with an impartial and honest opinion. You probably won’t patronize me or lie to me. You won’t lie to me, will you?
After yesterday’s deflation I am currently reevaluating me. Well, the superficial me. There is no doubt in my mind whatsoever that I need to workout. Right now I’m sloppy… I’m aiming for slim and trim, but without trying to get back to my 118lb frame I once had. I’m at least realistic about it. I want to start running actually, if my knee can handle it. The problem is, when can I run? I don’t have that freedom right now and there is no room for a treadmill in this house.
Working out is only half of it though. The other half, is my hair. I have worked long and hard to grow out this mane. It has taken 3 years to do it and I have made it past all those hurdles where I wanted to chop it off. I stayed strong and have been very greatful that I didn’t give in to my own personal pressures to cut it off. But, then I was told yesterday that I was hotter 6 years ago… and it just so happens my hair was shorter then. Much shorter.
I have been told in the past that long hair makes me look older. My long hair also takes a lot of work. If it isn’t dried straight it is quite scary. And I don’t me, playfully mussed or even Hollywood bed-head sexy. I mean scary as in appearing as though my hair has been kinked and frizzed and may even seem like I have just stepped out of a grave.
I LOVE my long hair because I can wear hats and ponytails and not mess with it if I don’t want to. I can just pull it up and be done with it. When it’s done and flat ironed I feel sexy, despite the negative feelings I have about my face. Right there that is enough for me to say no way am I cutting off. But is it making my facial features worse?
When I look at old pictures it seems I looked fresher and younger with the shorter hair. I’m stuck and have decided that I have no idea how to proceed because I am my own worst critic and never know what actually looks good and what doesn’t!
I don’t know what to do. So, at the risk of looking incredibly vain and self-absorbed and wasting a blog post on such a crappy topic, I am going to post some pictures of my hair at different lengths. It is also different colors but that is beside the point. Tell me what you think.
There are some conditions though:
Things you may not say:
- Your nose would be a great site for the 2010 Winter Olympics ski jump!!
- Were you absent the day they passed out chins?
- Which one is the moose?
- Are those your eyes or pinholes in your head?
- AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
- Were you pretending to be a dude?
- OH MY GAWD I’M BLIND NOW!
- Seriously, the sun, find it, use it.
- Wow, that’s talent, not having a chin and yet having a double chin.
There, as long as you adhere to those conditions, then respond at will.
Ugh… this is the sucky part, the pictorial of hair…
Short and brassy… gross. More the color than the cut.
This is one picture I actually love… the color and cut were great.
Then, a year later…
The tweener length, color good, length favorable.
Getting longer… and darker.
More recent
Currently… well, only on a humid-free good hair day.
2001, me, skinny, blonde and curly (remember I have a natural wave in my hair and it’s uber thick)
2002, short and fresh from the shower.
Playful, wash and wear, easy. (I’m on the right)
2005, supah-short!
Easter, 2006. I like this pic too.
Now, get on with the critiques. What is the best length and look? I’m going to turn 33 soon and while I don’t want to look like a teenager, I also don’t want to “look good for being 33 and having two kids.” Ya get me?
And believe me, I already know how much I should NOT leave the house without makeup. I really do.
Take a break from the real-life crap like Michael “my ass is made of gold” Phelps, Obama and McCain for President and Georgia, the country, not the state, in turmoil. Turn your focus to something much less important and trifling. My hair. Talk amongst yourselves and for the love of God please tell me what to do.
Today was and still is (since it’s only 3:32pm) an odd sort of days. It’s Mother’s Day (Holla! to all the mother’s!) today, May 11th, in the year of the rat, 2008.
So, how was your Mother’s Day? Good I hope. Hopefully all of the mother’s were showered with gifts, free time, ALONE TIME, pedicures, manicures, any-cures, chocolate, big breakfasts and lots of gift cards for clothing or massages.
Now that my pleasantries are out of the way, let’s begin with my own Mother’s Day events…
Sometime in the middle of the night, or the very wee hours of Mother’s Day, it began to rain. It rained, and rained, and rained some more. The rain did not stop until this afternoon. It was also incredibly windy. However, this was actually great news to us because we spent all day yesterday landscaping the retaining wall that follows the length of our house. We planted 9 shrubs, well actually, 2 lilac shrubs, 2 Alberta Spruce’s, 2 butterfly bushes and 3 burning bushes. They desperately needed rain, and lots of it since they were freshly dug out of the ground at a nursery and then planted in our yard. Needless to say, we welcomed the 12 hour downpour. The wind, not so much.
This is where it gets interesting. This is where you begin to get serious insight, as if you haven’t had enough already, into the mind of me.
Earlier in the week, hubs asked me what I wanted for breakfast on Mother’s Day. I didn’t ask for blueberry crepes or Belgian waffles. I didn’t ask for scrambled eggs and bacon to be served to me on a silver platter in bed. Rather, I chose my favorite, on-the-go, weekend breakfast that I like to enjoy once in a while… A Dunkin Donuts breakfast sandwich – sausage and egg, NO CHEESE, on a toasted bagel. Sadly, such as my life, I was looking forward to my breakfast of choice all week long. I love those damn DD breakfast sandwiches.
We awoke this morning and I begrudgingly told hubs that he didn’t have to go out in this weather to get my silly breakfast while secretly thinking to myself, ‘you better damn well say you are still going or I will shove pencils in your ears and then jam into your brain!’.
He said he would still go so tragedy was avoided.
He returns with my treasured breakfast in hand along with a yummy French vanilla coffee for me and 25 munchkins for my two evil munchkins to whom I gave birth to thus bestowing me my Mother’s Day rite of passage.
Then, I hear the words that no mother should ever, EVER have to hear on Mother’s Day when it involves the breakfast she has been looking forward to all week long…
“Oh no honey! They gave you a croissant instead of a bagel sandwich!” he yells from the other room.
For a second or two I really thought he was kidding, knowing how serious I am about food and it being exactly like I want it (think, Sally in When Harry Met Sally, only Sally would shoot the person who messed up her order). But, he was not kidding.
I was deflated. I was sad. My breakfast was ruined. He tried to offer up suggestions like…
“Take mine! You can take off the cheese!” he offered sweetly.
“No thanks, the cheese won’t come off, and you didn’t get sausage.” I rebutted like a 3-year old who was just told that his birthday cake didn’t turn out and that they would have brownies instead.
“Well, is the croissant that bad?” he asks.
“Yes, it really is. The toasted bagel makes the whole sandwich pleasurable. I don’t want the croissant.” I said back. “It’s ok, just nevermind. I know it’s not your fault.”
Then, I stood in the kitchen lost, confused and debating my next step.
I throw my shoes on and tell hubs emphatically, “They are NOT ruining my Mother’s Day breakfast! I am taking it back so they can fix my order dammit!”
“Are you serious?” he asked, completely baffled.
“Hell yes! I have been looking forward to this all week long, I am not settling!” I yelled back.
“Your a nut. Oh I went to the DD in the Heights.” he told me.
“Ok, be back soon.”
I decided to go to a different and much closer DD and exchange it because, really, are they going to know the difference? Probably not. So, I get around the corner from my house and I am stopped by a train, a really really slow train. This is not unusual. At that point I figured that this is merely a sign that I should go to the actual DD that hubs went to, for some reason. I flip a u-turn and head off to the other DD, 5 or 6 miles away, the one hubs said he went to.
I get there, finally, exchange my sandwich for the proper one and I’m on my way, without issue.
As I head back home, once again I come the tracks by my house, only I’m on the other side of them than I was before, and guess what, that train was STILL there, after 20+ minutes! Now, I can’t get home that way, and I’m only a block from my house. To make matters worse, I can’t take the other shortest route because when it rains heavily the road floods and they close it. So, now I have to take a long, LONG way home. All because of a seemingly retarded and forever long train. The words, “so close and yet so far” come to mind.
Are you following me or have I lost you yet? This is why I told you to grab your secret decoder rings. Duh.
Finally, I arrive home. Hubs had been freaking out because I was gone so long and he thought I had been in an accident. And, as luck would have it, I was wearing his rain coat and his cell phone was in the pocket, too. So, he had no way to reach me, or me to reach him. So, he said he plugged in our land line (we never use it anymore) just in case. I apologize and then went into my story of why I was gone so long.
He had a look of confusion on his face while I was telling him my saga but I forged on. He finally spoke up and asked me why I was taking those roads and how did I get stuck by the train because I should have been going another direction.
“Well, you told me that you went to the one in the Heights, so I had to go that way goober!” I said, with a severe “duh” tone to my voice.
“The one by Jewel you freak not South Heights!!!” he said condescendingly.
“OH!!!!! I was wondering why you would go all way to that other one when there are two DD’s right near us! But, that one you went to is NOT in the Heights ass!! It’s in Olympia Fields!” I yelled back, vindicated, sort of. “Don’t say ‘the one in the Heights’ bro, the one you went to is not in the Heights!”
I realize none of you know where I’m talking about. All you need to know is there are 2 DD’s very close to us. One is a good one and one is a bad one. The one hubs went to is on the border of Olympia Fields and Chicago Heights, but it is in Olympia Fields and that is the “good” one. So, when hubs said he went to the one in “the Heights” I immediately thought of the one my SIL loves, which is about 6 miles from our house. The other 2 are a mile or less from us.
The moral of the story is that my breakfast was almost ruined and I acted rashly to the situation and drove 12 miles out of my way to fix the situation when in reality, all I needed to do was drive a mile up the road, and back. I still, of course, blame DD for this entire mess because had the fucks in the drive through actually paid attention then all of this confusion and needless driving could have been avoided. Fuck you very much Dunkin Donuts.
In the end, it was worth all of the trouble because dayum I enjoyed that sandwich, more or less for the effort it took to get more than the actual taste. But, it was still very yummy.
Flash forward a few hours and my neighbor calls me and asks to borrow one of our cars. Um, okay??? She lost her key to her van and her husband was already at church with the kids and in 10 minutes the kids were going to put on their Mother’s Day concert so she had to get there. So, she ran over and grabbed my keys and headed off. How could I say no to a mother, on Mother’s Day when it would have meant missing a special concert in which her children were singing. Luckily, she also happens to be a very dear friend, too. It was just a request that I was not expecting.
Well, the day was already incredibly odd, so why not add another piece to the puzzle.
Flash forward a little while later and I’m doing laundry. I had just poured myself a nice, cold Dr. Pepper into my favorite cup and put the lid on and began to sip my carbonated pleasure. I drink my DP with 4 ice cubes in a plastic, thermal coffee mug because, yes, it really does taste better to me. And, the lid keeps it colder, carbonated longer and just that much sweeter as I sip it through the small little hole. My DP is just not worth it if I cannot fully enjoy it. Again, think Sally in WHMS. My quote in my sidebar is from that movie… very fitting.
Anyway, I set the mug on the dryer and began taking clothes out to fold them. Once that was done I began to throw the clean, wet clothes into the dryer. Just then, one of my tanks got wrapped around my mug and toppled it over and a lot of DP spilled onto the floor onto some clean, wet clothes that I had dropped in my fury to try and save the DP. Because, after all, the DP is the only thing that matters.
Now I had a small pile of clean clothes that I must rewash. But, the sad, sad and completely truthful part to this story is that I was way, way more pissed about the loss of about 1/2 of my DP than I was about having to rewash a few articles of clothing. Clothes can always be rewashed but once DP is lost, it’s lost. Gone. Forever.
Okay, in retrospect, after writing this out, I guess the day wasn’t that odd. I guess it just felt that way to me. So, this is actually an incredibly boring post, but, nonetheless, you still get a frightening glimpse inside of my high-maintenance head.
Your welcome.
How much is too much information? Where does a blogger draw the line? Where does someone like me draw the line when it comes to writing about myself, my life or my kids?
A few months ago someone told me that I claim to be honest and forthright in my blog but that I leave certain details out. I replied that I have every right to do that. Nothing of what I right is fiction. Nothing. But, if I chose to leave some details out about a real fight that hubs and I had because it might make him look bad, then yes, I do. I have that right and I do that because it would not be fair to hubs. I have no problem sharing silly fights we have or making myself look bad, but I won’t use my blog to make him look bad, even if he really is wrong about something. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that. This is MY blog so making fun of myself, or total strangers, is fine. Making myself look bad or ripping on other strange and complete idiots in the world is fine. But I won’t do that to my husband.
Am I wrong in that? If so, tell me. I’m a big girl.
My whole point is that I am finding the line between full disclosure of myself and leaving some stuff to mystery is harder and harder to define. There are so many things I want to write about and so much in my head right now that I’m going a little bit crazy. Ok, I’m actually on the bus to Crazytown and we are nearing the station.
I take Prozac. I think I have mentioned this many times. Maybe you thought I was kidding, but I’m not. I have absolutely no problem telling anyone this. My husband wishes I would not mention it because it’s a private matter for me. Fine. Agree to disagree. I’m not ashamed that I take it. The only shame I have is that I rely on a pill to fix me instead of more natural methods that might work too.
My last therapist told me that I am slightly obsessive compulsive because I have obsessive thoughts. I won’t go into details because I just don’t feel like trying to explain it again. Either way, the meds do help me so I take them. They also help me remain on a more even mood plain.
I have been off of my meds for a week now. So, last night, I was awoken at 4:30am by Monster and then laid awake for an hour and half obsessing over how rotten of a person I am. I thought about how I don’t deserve to have any friends. I change my mind too much. I’m too flaky and that I never know what I really want and I sacrifice the feelings of others for my own. This is normal when I’m not on my meds. Thoughts circle in my head and just twist and turn as if they are being sucked into a black hole. That is how I feel at times like this… like I’m swirling around the edge of a black hole and have no way out.
I know I have issues. I tell people I have issues. They can probably see I have issues, if they know me well enough. Consider me like one of those women you see from far away…. at a distance she looks put together, pretty and reasonably well-balanced. Then, as you get closer and closer you realize her complexion is bad, she wears too much makeup to cover it up, her hair is dry and damaged and her clothes have stains on them.
That is me. At a distance and on the surface I probably seem normal and put together. When I leave the house with my boys I’m dressed fairly nice, my hair is neat, make-up on and I have a cute purse, always. But, what you don’t see is everything underneath. You don’t see that I lie awake at night evaluating myself as a wife, mother, friend, sister. You don’t see how I yell at my kids sometimes. You don’t see that there are plenty of days when I don’t even get dressed. You don’t see that there are times when I can’t take the sound of “Mama!” and I plug my ears and practically cry. You don’t see that I’m lazy and how I would rather blog than do laundry. You don’t see my bad financial decisions day in and day out. And, you don’t see inside of my head… the crazy, nonsensical mess inside of my head.
I may have lost a second friend. A second good friend in 3 months. Doesn’t that tell you all something? While the reasons are completely different and I do not blame the person this time, it is still very telling of where I am as a person.
I am not the person I want to be. Then again, I never have been. How many times have you read in this blog how I’m still searching for who I am and blah blah blah. I gotta tell you, I am even sick of the sound of my own voice. No joke. I drive myself crazy with all the bullshit that spews from my head to my lips or my head to my computer screen.
It isn’t that I don’t mean what I’m saying each and every time. I really do think that I mean what I’m saying. I really do think that I believe it. But, it turns out that maybe I’m saying and believing it for the sake of others. So essentially, I’m lying to myself, over and over. And, that means I’m lying to others as well, right?
I never intend to hurt anyone. I don’t calculate how I’m going to get my way or mess up another person’s life. I don’t purposely forget birthdays or to get gifts for others. I don’t intentionally set out to be a bad friend or mother. Everything just happens as a chain reaction from other mistakes or events around me. It is my reaction to them that makes me who I am. And, I don’t like who I am or who I have become. But, I know I’m in there. I know I can be a much better person. I’m confident in that much.
I guess, in the end, I don’t take control over all of my actions. I let other factors influence me and don’t take the time to really think about other people like I should. So, on my never-ending journey to find the root of myself and be the best person I can be, I have discovered another facet in order to help me. I talked to hubs today about this, in fewer words. I told him that in my fight to get back to me and who I want to be I might become someone he doesn’t like anymore. But, I won’t be afraid of that, because, being true to myself is the single most important facet a person can have.
I know I sound like a fool. I know that I am a fool. I know that blogging is considered lame by some people. I know that a lot of people aren’t as revealing as I am. But, I use this as a way to escape myself sometimes. By writing what is in my head I can get it out and away from me. Escape. However, I have to start remembering what I write and make sure it is honest to ME, otherwise, it’s just bullshit and lip service all over again.
I just have to stop making the same mistakes over and over again. That is yet another issue I have. I wonder if I’ll be this insane when I’m 50. I wonder if I’ll ever have myself figured out or if I’ll go to the grave with an epitaph that reads “Her intentions were good, but once a fool always a fool…”
On a lighter note, I just received this link in an email and believe it or not, it made my day. I used to totally heart Rick Astley. Laugh all you want, I admit it.
I had planned on writing in this blog almost everyday while I was in Arizona. I figured I would have interesting things to say and wonderful, insightful things to share. I mean, I’m spending a month… in Arizona… with my kids… to just relax! There would have to be great tales to come from that, right?
Wrong.
Things just don’t always work out the way you plan. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy here and my kids are having a great time. But, we didn’t anticipate the sickies, which by the way, are STILL lingering. It’s insane. None of us are back to 100%. It’s like it comes and goes but the runny noses never stop.
So, I have been preoccupied with keeping the kids’ noses clean, managing fevers, cleaning up vomit, saying “cover your mouth!” over and over and then trying to fight off my own flu bug, twice. Then, let us not forget that I am still in school and have to complete my multiple assignments every week.
At the end of the day, while not having full access to a car, there just isn’t much time left in the day to do the things I came here really wanting to do, one of which was mesmerizing all of you with wit, insight and great stories from all the great adventures.
I’m sure you have noticed my lack of adventuresome tales.
This trip was mainly a chance for my kids to bond with my family and for me to spend good quality time with my mom and sister. Those things have happened and for that I’m greatful. Truly greatful. This is the first time I have come down here to visit my family and have zero desire to go back home, other than to pack up the house and high-tail it back here, forever. But I guess I expected more time alone, to think, to dream, to clear my head. Instead, I found myself enjoying my family immensely and missing my husband intensely. If I don’t get that time alone then I am sure as hell greatful to be spending it with family that I rarely see.
On the few occasions that I have had my mom’s or my sister’s car to myself I have loved driving, alone, and thinking, ‘oh yeah… I’m back home.’ The drivers are fast and impatient just like me so it’s a pleasure to drive here! It is like I finally fit in again! I still don’t recognize the areas much but there are some spots that are just the same now as they were 10 years ago. Then I dream about what it would be like to be living here, full time, and picking my kids up from the same school that my nephew goes to. And going to work every day and taking weekends to go camping in the mountains with my family.
When I go places I think, ‘I wonder if I will ever run into everyone I know?’ as if I have come back to a small town that I grew up in. Yeah, right. This is not exactly small town America. It’s like I’m looking for something but I’m not sure what it is. It has been so long since I lived here that I’m expecting someone to notice that I’m back. But that is so stupid. No one is going to notice a thing. People come in and out of the city every second. Right now the city is over run with the snowbirds from all the cold-weather states. They come here to escape the snow and cold, because they can. I am a snowbird. Temporarily. Except, I want to change that word “temporary” into “permanent”.
This self-centeredness is so exhausting. I wish I could just stop, breathe and think about just enjoying the sunshine and my family. Instead I’m constantly plotting and thinking how I am going to move my family here and who I might run into that I can show my kids off to. And I’m also thinking about my next meal… because I love food. A lot. And this is the land of my favorite fast food places.
I am not even sure that my thoughts are translating out of my head very well. My whole point is that I have already been here almost 3 weeks and have yet to do much of anything I wanted to do. My husband will be here Saturday and then we spend a week with him and doing some more touristy stuff. Then, its back home. To the tundra. I cannot wait to see hubs, but dammit, I want him to want to stay here, forever.
I want my husband to absorb my sense of adventure and just let it all go; quit his job, pack up the house and just move here and we will figure out the rest as we go. But, that’s my dream, not his. I am the pick-up-and-go girl. He is the think-it-through, full-of-pride man who won’t take just any job to get by until we get on our feet.
On top of all those things running through my head, I am still here to figure some things out about myself. Does soul-searching and self-evaluation ever end? Does anyone ever get to a point where they just are who they are and they can stop trying to figure themselves out and just be? Is that even possible? Is it possible to ever really forgive yourself for your mistakes? Because, I can’t. And what’s worse is that I keep making the same mistakes.
I think what I’m searching for is yet another clean slate. I see moving to Arizona as a chance to start over, again, as if moving here will erase all my mistakes and turn me into a better mother and wife. That is just insane and unrealistic. However, I also see moving here as a chance for a new life with an opportunity to be more successful and help provide for my family while I watch my kids grow up in the sunshine and play with cousins around their age.
I am enjoying my time here immensely and I miss my husband even more than that. He misses all of us like mad and is just miserable in the cold and snow, while we enjoy the sunshine. Soon, we will all be back under the same roof and living our normal lives. We have made a life back there, together. We have wonderful friends and all of his family back there. It is where our kids were born and it’s all they know, well, until now. We have so much invested in our lives back there, so how could we just pick up stakes and leave it all behind? Leave family and friends as if they don’t matter?
Well, they do matter. They matter a great deal. This is the first time in my life I have settled into someplace and grown roots and don’t want to tear them up. But my family’s happiness also matters a great deal and, I am my father’s daughter. I have nomadic tendencies running through my veins. I have an unsettled spirit that is still not broken and the only constant in my whole life.
Where do we belong? Where would my kids grow up the happiest? Where would my husband be the happiest? What is the answer to all of these questions? I want to walk out into the middle of the mountains and just find my answer written on a big boulder. It’s like I expect it to be there as soon as I walk out there.
But, I know myself well enough to know that it still won’t be the right answer, because my nostalgia for the desert and mountains, my emotions for the scenery and my own desires will cloud my judgment and I still won’t get the right answer.
Maybe the key is to go out there, to the peace and quiet and beautiful scenery, but go with hubs. That way, our thoughts will balance us out. And, if he gets nostalgic and overcome and his emotions make him want to move here too, then we will find our answer.
Never underestimate the power of premeditated manipulation.
I figured I would lighten the mood around here with some fun. And, I’m also running dry on ideas to write about. I think this is a GOOD thing right now. It means nothing bad is happening!
So, since I have been in a funk of self-contemplation and trying to sift through my good and bad qualities, I have subsequently uncovered a lot of odd things about myself. I figured, well, why not share my many idiosyncrasies with the world.
1. For some reason, I pick up accents from other people or places that I visit. If I am speaking to someone with a southern accent I involuntarily start to mimic the accent. I moved from Arizona to Illinois and when I went back to AZ for a visit my whole family made fun of my new accent from IL. I seriously cannot help it.
2. Speaking of accents, when I read the Curious George books to my sons I have to read them in a British accent. It just sounds better.
3. To many people, a crisis is global warming, the war in Iraq and starving children. To me, a crisis is not having ice for my Dr. Pepper, not getting the right dipping sauce for my nuggets. Seriously. It just ruins my esophageal mojo.
4. Sometimes I sing so badly in the car that I laugh outloud, at myself. It’s. That. Bad.
5. I have to wash things in order in the shower - 1. Shampoo Hair 2. Put conditioner in hair 3. While conditioner is conditioning, brush teeth and shave 4. Rinse conditioner out 5. Wash face 6. Wash the rest of me. There is a method to my madness.
6. I order the same exact thing at Taco Bell every single time. I just have no desire to try anything else.
7. I will milk a battery and a razor until there is zero juice left and the razor can’t cut butter. I HATE spending money on more batteries and razors because they are expensive. I usually have better things to buy…. like lip gloss.
8. I got really upset when I found out Cobie Callait was becoming widley known and was being played on the radio because I found her on MySpace much earlier this year and instantly fell in love and bought her CD before the country knew her name. Now, she’s everywhere and she’s ruined. I like to be different.
9. I am CONSTANTLY wiping down my cell phone to get the smudges off. I hate seeing makeup and smudges all over my phone.
10. When it comes to certain things in the stores I will dig through to the back to get the item I want instead of taking the first one on the shelf. I feel like the ones farther back are less tainted.
That’s enough craziness for one post. You can say it…. I’m a freak.
If ya’ll are lucky… wait, if I am lucky, there might be a drunk post tonight. I need a really really stiff drink.
