Happy Smotherer's Day

In my lifetime, I've had the "joys" of two mothers.  The one who birthed me and the one who raised me.  Both were in my life, both taught me about the world in their own ways, both were my mom.  I was adopted when I was 14 on May 14, 1992.  Not many kids can say that they signed for an consented to their own adoption!  Granted, I was adopted by my maternal grandparents so it wasn't much of a stretch.  I won't get into all the details here because, someday, I'll want you to buy the book.  LOL

Anyway - tomorrow is Mother's Day and there's always a moment of sadness in my heart as my "Mom" is an angel now.  You don't realize in times of anger that someday the woman you are fighting with, yelling at, who is grounding you, telling you not to wear that lipstick, advising you not to shave your head, screaming at you to not date that guy, who is snooping through your room, reading your notes, demanding to know who you are with and where you are at all times, who refuses to buy you mini skirts and hooker heels.... you just don't see that someday, somewhere down the road - she will be a ghost and a gravestone.  And you will bargain, in your mind or with her or with God, for one more fight, one more argument, one more second.  You'll want those times back with every fiber of your being.  So if you still have your "Smother" - hug her tightly, call her, remind her that you love her because sometimes you are a complete asshole and she will be the only one that still loves you anyway.  This is my 10th Mother's Day since she has been gone.  Only now - as I'm raising 4 kids - am I seeing the value of her lessons. 

Once, my cousin, Chris, my friend Kristye, and I were sentenced to an afternoon of cleaning for the millionth time.  Now, my "mom" collected antique furniture and had it in every room of the house.  This was around 84 or 85, so if it was antique then, you can imagine what it would be now.  (Some of it still resides in my home to this day)  Well, she had this Berkey & Gay bedroom suite consisting of a mirrored chest of drawers, some storage thing that sat at the end of her four poster queen sized bed, in walnut.  Remembering it now - it was gorgeous.  "Was" is the key word here.  Words don't do these pieces justice.  This particular summer day we were doing time in the bowels of Tidying HELL.  Of course, we wanted to be thorough.  We were given the task of straightening the upstairs bedrooms while she took care of the downstairs.

Once we completed picking up toys, dirty clothes and various floor clutter we moved on to her room.  We found her supply of cleansing agents including, but not limited to, Ajax powder, Brillo pads, a scrub brush, and what's cleaning if you don't use the toothbrushes of everyone in the household?  You know, for fine details.  We all three entered her room and went straight to work.  We scrubbed and scoured for probably an hour or so.  Chris, liberally spreading Ajax from one end of the room to the other. (Hey, it turned a pretty blue when it was wet!  It was a fascinating substance to our young minds.)  Kristye was armed with a scrub brush.  In my hot little hand, I possessed a Brillo pad in all of it's steel wool glory.  We took to that bedroom suite like a well oiled cleaning machine.  We felt so grown up and important.  I distinctly remember saying how proud she was going to be when she sees how clean we got her furniture.  So you can imagine our confusion when she entered the room to put away the linens and started screaming.  There was a frenzy of sobbing, screaming, flailing arms, painful swats to our behinds, furious words of anger and groundings until the end of time.  Kristye was banished to her home.  Chris and I were sent to opposite ends of the house.  And when I say "sent" I mean she dragged us, beating our asses with every step.  Suddenly, this 60 year old woman grew 5 more arms and Herculean strength.  It was like she was the Incredible Hulk himself.

We weren't permitted out of our respective rooms for the rest of the night - an eternity when you're young.  We couldn't understand why we were being punished for cleaning.  After all, we were just doing what we were told!  Chris and I whispered under the cracks of our closed doors attempting to determine our fatal error.  The next day, through giant tears, she explained what we did wrong.  She told us that she still loved us.  She proceeded to make us a tray of cut fruits and her famous fruit dip.  I didn't think those ups and downs would vanish.  In the coming years I'd grow to hate her and love her again, despise her and cherish her and miss her in overwhelming ways.  She'd smother me, ask too many questions, make too many suggestions, give me unsolicited advice that I'd just rebel against, and love me unconditionally and forever.  

In 2001, she was granted her wings on a hot August day in her bed.  From there on out our family changed.  She was our glue and for a long while we fell apart without her.  But the fortitude she instilled in us came alive again and, for the most part, brought us all back together. (Once, I picked up the phone, dialed her number as I had something really important to tell her.  I got so far as the disconnected number chime and recording before I remembered she was gone.) I get signs from her and am comforted with them. She comes to me in vivid dreams where she has a healthy & nourished look to her, though she rarely says a word.  Most recently she gave me an indisputable sign that would make me sound like a lunatic if I explained it.  She finds ways to "mother" me from her new home in Heaven.  Only now have I begun to savor those signs rather than mourn them.  Going on 11 years since her passing and I'm starting to find peace with it.   She's still with me each and every single day.  Sometimes, my daughter will look up at me and flash me a face and I could swear it was "mom". I treasure that and while part of my heart aches that she isn't sitting at this table with me, smoking like a chimney, criticizing some choice I've made, I know she lives on.

What was the point of this rambling blog?  Other than sharing a story that didn't paint her in the best light?  Well, the point is - go call your mom.  Even if she's a bitch.  Call her.  She's only on loan to you. We moms put up with a lot.  We make a lot of sacrifices to get you where you are now.  We got up and made you breakfast when we were tired.  We taught you how to pee and poop in the toilet.  We kissed your hurties.  We wanted to fight the world when someone hurt you.  We'd lay our lives down without question for our kids.  We're humans doing the jobs of super heroes.  Remind us that you notice.  On Monday, you can go back to leaving skidmarked undies on the floor and asking for money we don't have.  Give your momma one day, especially when she's given you all of hers.  :-) 

Divorcemas Eve

Tomorrow morning I will wake up for the last time as a married woman.  I find myself sitting here reflecting on 12 years with someone who started as my best friend and ended with someone I barely recognize.

We were happy.  Not all the time.  There were some serious downs but for the most part we spent so much time so incredibly happy.  And I'm not just making that up.  Or glossing over the facts.  We were happy.  The last few years though - well, they took their toll.  Criticize me as you'd like but even now when I look at him and into those eyes somehow I still see the other half of my soul and love him with all of me.

My wedding ring is on a silver chain in a special place.  I never once looked at it and saw a shackle.  I looked at it and saw my past, present & future.  Sometimes I slip it onto my finger and remember that happy day - Valentine's Day - years ago.  If I close my eyes and catch a quiet moment in the house I can still remember giggling like an idiot at the way the diamonds sparkled and how funny it was that I couldn't figure out which hand his was supposed to go on.  I can still hear Pastor Sam's marital advice during our wedding ceremony.  And wearing my "moms" dress.  I felt so safe and secure by his side.  I felt full.

I can distinctly remember that instant in 1999 when our eyes met for the first time.  He was wearing these silly snapping pants and a Nike shirt, his blonde hair in a pony tail and white gym shoes.  When he spoke to me I felt this tug inside of my and something just said to me "Home".  I just felt this overpowering feeling that I was supposed to be with him.  My gut said that this man was the missing pieces of me.  Like somehow God made us to be One.  

We cannot take back the actions of the last year.  Sometimes I don't want to.  Most of the time I'd give my right arm to erase it all away.  The part that cuts me the deepest is that he is not thinking the same thing.  He is happy with her.  Acceptance of this is unbearable at times.  How can it have meant so much to me and so little to him?  Where is my husband and how on earth can I get through to him? 

For the most part I don't cry anymore.  At least not outwardly.  I nod & smile and go through the motions as if I am doing the most ordinary thing in the world.  Distractions come easy in the form of 4 terrific children and 3 jobs, great friends, extraordinary family.  The truth of the matter is that I can't sleep in our bed anymore.  I sleep on my couch so that I don't feel so alone.  Couches we used to take naps on together.  It doesn't feel as empty.  Everyone tells me that he's not the same person anymore and that he is hollow.  He is gone.  Like somehow I need a reminder.  No one knows better than me.  That does not halt the grieving process.  If only that made it easier to bear.  The weight of his absence is bearing down on me like nothing I could ever explain. 

Do you think if I place wedding photos, centerpieces, toasting glasses, ring and favors by the fireplace, a lock of his hair under my pillow, his old shoes on the porch or leave cookies out maybe the Husband Fairyclaus will bring him back?  Maybe, just maybe, all the Kings Horses and all the Kings Men....... nah.  I guess not.

Realistically - I will walk into the courthouse with my head high and eyes dry.  I will say what needs to be said and sign whatever paper I have to sign.  Inside I will scream that I don't want this.  No one will hear my cries or see my tears.  I will smile in spite of every painful step.  My heart is breaking but life has to keep going.  Just for me though I will say one last prayer that something somehow keeps this from happening. 

I won't hold my breath.

The Glamourous Life of the Single Working Mom

3:21 a.m. - I finish up the mailers I was doing for work.  They are all stamped and ready to go out in the mail.  My eyes are rolling.... it's time for bed.

4:43 a.m. - Mini-Me rustles in her sleep and hunger pangs wake her.  I'm in my bed 10 feet in front of her.  Just the sounds of her rustling in her crib wakes me.  I look at the clock and listen to see if she is just tossing or if she is going to get up.  Much to my dismay - it's the latter.  She starts to cry.  I get up.  Hit my shin on the end of the bed and I can't scream because it will scare her.  I pick her up, carry her to the kitchen where I open the fridge and realize I didn't prepare formula before I passed out.  So I make her a quick 4oz bottle and hope it's enough to top her off and get her back to sleep.  We make our way back to the bedroom.  I step on a Beyblade one of the boys left in the hall.  But I'm so exhausted that I'm too tired to whimper.  We crawl into my bed - yeah a big no no- and I give her the bottle and she starts to doze.  She finishes it.  The sensation of me taking it out of her mouth startles her awake again.  The 4oz wasn't enough.  We do the above over again.  She falls back to sleep around 6:00.

6:47 a.m. - The Oldest is up.  He shut his bedroom door and I'm awake again.  I nod off just in time to hear him shut the front door which wakes Mini-Me.

7:00 a.m. - We head to the living room as it is clear that she is not going to go back to sleep.  I put her in her high chair so that I can prepare breakfast.  I give her some baby puffs to tide her over.  She is happy & giggling.  She picks them up in her beautiful baby fingers and shoves them into her face.  I don't even know if my eyes are open.  I move the remnants of last nights dinner plates to find my coffee pot.  Sweet salvation from the grog.  Then I clean off a space on the counter to cut a banana for the baby girl that I love so much.

7:08 a.m. - Middle Son stirs in his room.  He wants to watch some cartoons before school.  So he turns on the television.  Youngest Boy is now up from the sounds of the television.

7:14 a.m. - Youngest Boy comes into the kitchen and asks for a bowl of cereal.  At this moment I realize I forgot to turn on the coffee pot.  Ugh.  I reach into the cabinet to pull out the last clean bowl.  I forgot to start the dishwasher last night.  Upon pouring the cereal I realize that we have no clean spoons.  So I improvise and give him a measuring spoon.  I get creative and tell him that it is so he can measure how many tablespoons of cereal he has today.  He is pleased and sits down at the table.

7:22 a.m. - I finish sweeping up the scattered baby puffs and banana cubes just in time to hear a familiar splash in the living room.  Youngest Boy has taken his bowl of cereal into the living room and, as usual, has spilled it on the floor.  I thank God for the hardwood flooring at this point. Youngest Boy runs to grab a towel and comes back with a dishrag that's not nearly big enough to clean the mess.  I thank him for the help and remind him that we eat in the kitchen.

7:28 a.m. - Middle Son would like some sausage links.  Thankfully these take 45 seconds in the microwave.

7:39 a.m. - I'm off to get weather appropriate clothing for all 3 of them.  The clean laundry is sorted into baskets in my bedroom.  I haven't had time to fold them.  So I dig.  The boys watch some television and fight over which program they are going to watch.  I have to play referee as I change & dress Mini-Me.

7:50 a.m. - I return to the kitchen to clean the plates & bowls from the boys' breakfast.  I rinse Mini-Me's high chair tray to prepare for lunch.  Finally I am able to pour my cup of coffee.

8:00 a.m. - I instruct Middle Son to get dressed and get his bookbag together while I pick up the laundry from the living room & kitchen. (Mini-Me's clothing, my socks, some dishrags & the towels from Youngest Boys earlier spill).  My alarm in my bedroom is going off.  The noise is enough to make me want to scream.  I have to run and shut it off.  I look at my bed and want to go back to sleep.

8:05 a.m. - Getting the first load of laundry of the day into the washer.  Mini-Me is now screaming from the living room and I ask Youngest Boy what he did to her.  He was just trying to give her hug.  I run to the living room to find her reaching up for me.  I carry her back to the laundry room to finish loading it and unloading the dryer onto my bed.  With 1 hand. 

8:08 a.m. - I remind Middle Son to get dressed for school.


8:13 a.m. - Youngest Boy is now dressed.  His pants are on backwards and he is wearing a pajama shirt that belongs to Middle Son.  Even his socks are on upside down.  I help to re-dress him.  We go through the run down of the proper way to dress.  He is wiggling and falls off the couch.  Crying ensues.  He wants daddy.  He wishes daddy would come home.  He wishes Daddy would leave Katie and come back to us.  Middle Son is frustrated now because he can't hear television.


8:17 a.m. - I remind Middle Son AGAIN to get dressed.


8:23 a.m. - I find my own socks so that I can get ready to head out the door.


8:30 a.m. - I have to block the television so that Middle Son will do what I have asked him to do repeatedly.  Finally he gets off the couch and gets dressed.  His pajamas are strewn onto the floor down the hallway and into his bedroom.  I ask him to pick them up and place them into the hamper.


8:37 a.m. - Middle Son cannot find last nights homework.  There is a mad hunt through the living & dining room to find it.  Mini-Me has now found something random on the floor behind the entertainment center and she has it in her mouth.  She is gagging now.  I run to pat her back and a nickel falls to the floor.  She is crying really hard now.


8:40 a.m. - My phone alarm goes off letting me know that it's time to head out the door to take Middle Son to school.


8:44 a.m. - Youngest Boy cannot find one of his shoes.  Middle Son is reenacting some fighting moves he saw on television.  He is oblivious to the search for Youngest Boy's shoe.  Youngest Boy is crying again.  He wants Daddy.


8:52 a.m. - The missing shoe is located under a box in the bedroom.  Youngest Boy thanks me for being a wonderful mommy and finding his shoe.  We are ready to go.


8:55 a.m. - I reach for my keys on the hook by the front door.  They are not there.  Youngest Boy used them to open his cash register toy last night and left them somewhere.  A mad scramble is on to find my keys.


8:57 a.m. - I give up my search for the keys.  I grab the spare and race to the van.  I get Mini-Me secured into her car seat.  I run to the other side to buckle Youngest Boy in.


8:59 a.m. - I get into the drivers seat and lock my seatbelt and press the button to shut the sliding door.  It shuts and then comes back open.  Something is stuck in the track.  I run over to the side and remove the Easter card my best friend sent me that was wound up in the track.  I'd question how it got there and express my sadness over losing the card but who really cares?  Just me.


9:00 a.m. - School begins.


9:02 a.m. - I pull out of the driveway and we're off to school.


9:07 a.m. - We arrive at school and Middle Son gets out.  He runs to the door and his pants slip down to expose a plumber's crack.  I realize he did not put on underwear this morning.  I call to him to tell him that he is to put on underwear every single day.  He tells me he forgot.  Now I send my son to school with no underpants.  Let's hope it's not gym day.


9:12 a.m. - We return home.  As I get Mini-Me out of her car seat I realize she has pooped.  It is up her back, inside her car seat and down her legs.  I pull her seat out and take her into the house.  Youngest Boy claims the television and announces he is still hungry and would like more breakfast.  I explain that I have to clean Mini-Me up first.  He misses Daddy again.

9:23 a.m. - I have completed cleaning Mini-Me.  As I enter the kitchen to dispose of the dirty diaper & wash my hands I spot my cup of coffee on the counter.  It's completely cold.

9:28 a.m. - I empty the washer into the dryer and fill it with Mini-Me's soiled clothing and the shirt I was wearing that is covered in baby poop.

9:33 a.m. - It's my best friend time!  The phone rings and my dearest friend in the whole wide world is on the other end.  She starts with her familiar "Duuuuuuuude what's up?" and I feel so comforted.  She has no idea what these calls every morning mean to me.  We could talk about the random license plates she encounters in the greater Chicago area or the cost of gas and I'd be the happiest woman on earth.  We spend about 30 minutes just chatting while I clean the counters & straighten up the house.

10:00 a.m. - It is time for work.  I sit down at my desk in the living room and find The Oldest's dirty breakfast dishes.  Grrrrr.... If he was home I would make him come & get them and put them into the sink.  But it's too late.  I make a mental note to tell him of this when he gets home.  As I take the dishes into the kitchen I realize I never started the dishwasher and we need dishes.  I have a portable dishwasher, not an in-wall kind.  After I get it all hooked up and soap filled I turn it on and return to the desk.

10:12 a.m. - Youngest Boy wants to watch The Legend of Zelda dvd for the billionth time.  Now.... where are the remotes?  Mini-Me is playing with her toys on the floor.

10:16 a.m. - Both the television & DVD remotes are located under my scanner cart and couch.  DVD is playing.  Mini-Me is content with a beanie baby and her musical steering wheel.

10:20 a.m. - I organize my desk and start my To-Do List for the day: Chapter 13 Plan Calculations & Additional Fee Applications.  I need to do math and organize timelines from notes in the system.  Somehow I find myself checking Facebook and updating my 30 Day Film Challenge.

10:27 a.m. - I log into work and begin the tasks at hand.  By now Mini-Me has crawled over to me to play at my feet.  She reaches over and shuts my computer off.

10:33 a.m. - My computer has restarted and I can log back into work.  The phone rings.  I click "ignore" so that I can focus on what I'm doing.

10:47 a.m. - After I've moved Mini-Me from the area that Youngest Boy is playing at his request he reminds me that he wanted another bowl of cereal please.

10:53 a.m. - The bowls and spoons are in the dishwasher.  I offer to make him a pb&j which he is okay with for now.

10:58 a.m. - I return to the living room/desk area to find Mini-Me with a pen in her mouth.  I take it away from her and she starts to cry.  She is rubbing her eyes and is sleepy.  OH YEAH - I forgot to mix formula.  I prepare about 32 oz that should get her through the day.  As I am doling out the scoops my phone rings again in the living room.  I just lost my train of thought and forgot how many that was.  Lucky for me I don't put those scoops directly into the water until I have measured them properly.  It's time to start over.

11:08 a.m. - Back at the desk with Mini-Me in one arm and bottle in the other hand.  I sit down at give her the bottle with one arm.  I am tapping keys with the other hand getting work completed.

11:11 a.m. - I close my eyes & make wishes for things that will never come.

11:17 a.m. - Mini-Me is asleep for her morning nap. She is warm and cuddly and I am reminded of my warm. soft bed.  Then I'm reminded that I need coffee.  My cup is in the kitchen on the counter still.  Cold.  If I get up I'll wake Mini-Me.  So there I sit - plugging away at my work longing for sleep or coffee.

11:45 a.m. - Youngest Boy is hungry again and the dvd has finished playing.  He decides to get a snack from the snack drawer and pulls the whole thing down.  He snatches the one that he wants and tells me I can have the tv since he wants to play in his room.  Mini-Me is now awake again.  She doesn't want to go play on the floor or in her excersaucer.  She wants me to hold her.

11:52 a.m. - Mini-Me pulls my work off my desk and scatters my papers onto the floor.  I move her high chair into the living room next to my desk and place her in it with some puffs & cooked veggies.

12:04 p.m. - Youngest Boy returns to the living room because he wants to play in here with his toys and watch another DVD.  I return to work.

12:25 p.m. - Mini-Me has had enough of her lunch and wants out.  I wipe her clean and set her tray on the table in the dining room.  I really need to finish my work.  She is back to playing in the floor only this time Youngest Boy has included her in his game.  I watch them play in awe.  They look so happy.  They are laughing.  Mini-Me is putting a blanket on her head and Youngest Boy is finding her.  I can't imagine a second of my life without them.  I want to sit on the floor and join them.  But if I don't work I won't be able to feed them and that's not okay.

1:00 p.m. - I finish one round of work.  Finally I get that cup of coffee.  Right as Mini-Me poops again.  Youngest Boy yells that she stinks.  It's up her back.  I have to catch her before it gets onto the floor.

1:08 p.m. - Diaper change complete.  She resumes her playtime with Youngest Boy.

1:39 p.m. - Youngest Boy would like lunch now.  Good thing the dishwasher is done.  I prepare his meal and realize I haven't eaten since dinner last night.  But I don't have time to fix anything.  So I top off my coffee and head back to work.

2:00 p.m. - After 2 phone calls and encouraging kids to play I cannot fight my hunger another second.  I go back into the kitchen and toss some leftover spaghetti into a bowl and start the microwave.

2:04 p.m. - Mini-Me is fussing and is bored.  I give her some different toys to play with and put her in her excersaucer for some jumping.

2:12 p.m. - Yet another phone call.  Since this is the 3rd one from the same person I finally just answer because it's clear she is in dire need.  She wants to complain about some poor treatment she got at the doctor.  That's all.  I am working at the same time.  Trying to listen and be a good friend because I do care. 

2:43 p.m. - Work is going smoothly.  Everyone is happy.  The microwave is beeping to remind me that I left my lunch in there forever ago.  But Mini-Me has had enough of the excersaucer play.  She's ready for another nap.  I lay her down and get her to sleep.

3:08 p.m. - The Oldest's bus arrives home.  He comes in and Youngest Boy yells.  Mini-Me is awake now.  I have to get dressed, finally, for the day so that we can go get Middle Son.  The Oldest & I talk about his day at school.  I instruct him to empty the dishwasher and tell him about him leaving his dishes on the desk. 

3:15 p.m. - I head to my bedroom to change out of my pajamas and into my clothes.  The cat has been asleep in my pile of clean clothes.  Fur is all over them.

3:22 p.m. - The Oldest calls to me from the kitchen asking me what's in the microwave as he is making his after school snack.  I forgot my lunch again.

3:28 p.m. - Mini-Me needs to be dressed.  Youngest Boy cannot find his socks that he took off earlier.  He's screaming at the top of his lungs and hitting himself in the head repeating that he is stupid. 

3:30 p.m. - School is out.

3:33 p.m. - We are out the door when I remember that I have to reassemble Mini-Me's car seat.

3:35 p.m. - Youngest Boy slips in the driveway and hurts his knee.  He is crying from the pain, for his daddy and for life when daddy was here.  I hug him & comfort him and kiss his knee.

3:38 p.m. - We pull out of the driveway and are en route to school.

3:43 p.m. - The Oldest runs into the school to get Middle Son.

3:50 p.m. - We are back at home.  The Oldest snags the computer before I get in the door.  Middle Son starts his homework which consists of a math paper that he doesn't understand and a book he must read aloud.  He is hungry as well and wants a snack.  The cupboard is just about bare.  I haven't had time to wrangle 4 kids to the grocery store.  And my paycheck was spread thin.  I had to pay the bills.  Ugh.

4:00 p.m. - The Oldest retreats to his bedroom and I go back to work.

4:23 p.m. - Youngest Boy and Middle Son start screaming at each other for control over the video games so that each one can pursue their 30 minute game allotment.  They both want the Wii and different games and they both want to go first.  Mini-Me is happily crawling to the sliding door so that she can watch the birds & squirrels from the window.   I want to sit down next to her or take her outside and play in the yard.  At least it's raining out and I don't feel like such a horrible mother.

6:00 p.m. - I've worked and handled the kids' every need.  Changed a diaper or 2.  Given a bottle.  I've separated them and resolved incessant fights.  Now it's time to make dinner.  The Oldest is helping to hold Mini-Me while I get dinner made.  I open the microwave to defrost the ground turkey to find my lunch from earlier.

6:42 p.m. - Dinner is done.  The boys take their places at the table and Mini-Me's high chair needs cleaned again so she can eat too.  The kids eat while I try to make sense of the mess in the kitchen from making dinner.

6:57 p.m. - I sit down to eat my dinner and it's cold.  Mini-Me is finished and wants out.  But she needs cleaned up.  So I shove 2 bites into my face and resign to getting her out of her seat and transporting her to the bathroom for a hose down.  Youngest Boy needs a bath but he doesn't want one.  I have to literally strip him of his clothing and put him into the tub.  He kicks & screams until he realizes he can play with Mini-Me with the toys.  They play for a while and I watch and clean them up.

7:11 p.m. - Mini-Me is the first out of the tub.  She is sleepy from the full belly & special bath soap.  I clothe her in her jammies.

7:31 p.m. - Youngest Boy has maxed himself out in the bath.  He races his naked patoot from the bathroom to his bedroom and comes out wearing his pj shirt as pants and pants as a shirt.  He knows it's all on wrong but wants to stay that way.  Middle Son has been looking up cheat codes on the computer.  The Oldest is back in his room watching Netflix.  Or playing his 3DS.

8:03 p.m. - While holding my precious daughter and singing her "You Are My Sunshine" no less than 25 times I get the dishes into the dishwasher and dance with her as to not suffer the same fate tomorrow morning with the measuring spoon.

8:25 p.m. - Something is on television.  I'm not sure what but I want to sit with the kids and hear about their days and lives and feelings and viewpoints.  So while I give Mini-Me her bottle we chat and simultaneously watch tv. The phone rings but I ignore it because this is the only time I get to spend with them that is not work.  I want to bask in it. 

9:00 p.m. - It's pick up time.  Everyone must pick up their messes and get ready for bed.  An inevitable fight between them ensues while I get to my second To Do List of the day and start round 2 of work.

9:30 p.m. - Bed time in the household.  The boys head to the bathroom to brush their teeth.  They come out and kiss me goodnight.  I feel like the most blessed mother in the world. 

9:43 p.m. - I return to my desk and begin clacking at the keys again.  Flying through work in the quiet peace of the house.  Mini-Me tousles every now & then on the couch.  But remains asleep.

10:18 p.m. - Another call - It's my sister and I am grateful for her voice too.  I love to hear about her day.  I work during our conversation.  I hope she doesn't think I'm not listening.

11:00 p.m. - I'm 100% focused on work.  Until he creeps into my mind.  I miss him a little and that is quickly replaced by anger when I see he was using my Netflix account all day to watch movies while I did all of the above.

Until 2-3 a.m. I am working.  It's quiet.  Sometimes he will text me.  He tells me about his ideas for wrestling matches I cannot attend.  He pours his heart out about things going on in his life.  Never once does he ask me about our day.  Sometimes he asks about the kids.  For the most part though it's all about him. 

There are trips to the doctor or the store or therapy or library or gas station.  It may seem like I am complaining.  Far from it.  I look into 4 sets of eyes every day and am overwhelmed by love.  This is my life.  I can't imagine being happy not doing this every day.

Freedom

When I was a little girl.. around 7 or so... my biological mother met a man who would change me.  I was not just your average straight "A" student.  In the 2nd grade I was promoted to 3rd.  I was under evaluation for the gifted programs.  I had a pink bedroom.  I loved to dress up and look pretty.  E.T. lived in my closet.  Riding bikes was my favorite pastime. I loved Little House on the Prairie.  My shoes always had to match my dress.  My hair was brushed every day.  I read my Bible every night.  My "parents" made me feel like the smartest, most beautiful girl in the world.  I'd had my share of rough patches but overall - I was the smart, pretty girl that everyone loved.  And I felt worthy.

This man came along and wooed my (bio) mother.  She hadn't been with anyone since my (bio) father left when I was 3.  She was putty in his hands.  Things moved rather quickly from there.  Dates quickly became an engagement.  The warning signs were there and my parents fought with my (bio) mom.  They noticed hickies on my neck.  Bite marks.  All of a sudden I wasn't an outgoing little girl anymore.  I stopped doing my homework.  I withdrew.  He liked to hit me a lot and call me names that I didn't understand.  But he liked to kiss me too.  I didn't understand those either. 

My (bio) mother stopped letting me see my parents due to these fights.  They fought for custody.  Instead it ended with visitation every other weekend.  Then my (bio) mom just stopped picking me up.  One day during the summer of 1986 I was outside playing with my friends.  I hadn't seen (bio) mom in a long time.  Felt like ages when you are that little.  I looked up and saw her smiling face.  And I ran to her with no shoes on.  Then she ran with me.  He was in a car around the corner waiting with his green teeth and his crooked smile that made my stomach turn.  I cried but it didn't matter.  He made it very clear what would happen to me if my "wetback" mouth didn't shut up.  I cried for hours anyway.  He tied me to a chair in the living room of my mom's apartment that night.  He beat me so badly that I stopped crying.  Just so it would end.  I don't know how long I was in that chair.  My mom came home later and got me out.

Lots of days were like this.  I was able to go home a few times.  There were lots of fights.  My parents - him - my (bio) mom - him - police..... It didn't matter.  Nothing saved me.  By this time I had a baby sister, Bean.  She was beautiful.  And squirmy.  And I didn't know what to do with her but mom would have to work.  So I took care of her.  Our parents would send us toys and he'd sell them.  They would call and he'd hang up.  They'd come to see me at school but I wasn't there anymore.  Angie was left in my arms a majority of the time.  Looking back I can't remember how I did it.  There are lots of memories there.  None of which I think I can share.  But I was smart enough to try to get help.  Unfortunately, my voice wasn't heard in time.  My sisters suffered.  I suffered.

Several years later he served time in prison for what he did.  A year.  Seems rather short for stealing the innocence of 3 little girls.  The damage was done.  I shut down.  I had nightmares where he was trying to rape me again.  If I had a boyfriend I'd have flashbacks and get confused as to who was kissing me.  Killing myself seemed like the only way out.  I tried.  My parents couldn't help.  He came to our house once.  He called often.  In response I'd cut my arms.  He stole my self confidence.  He robbed me of my self esteem, my self worth.  Even now - 25 years later- the damage is still at the surface.  I still feel it.  He got his karmic repercussions quite a bit over the last few years but nothing in comparison. 

Have you ever taken a narcotic pain killer - for a toothache or some such malady - and actually felt the pain leave your body?  You know, that instant that the pain you had is gone?  That's what I felt when I read his name in the obituary section of today's paper.  I'll never get back what was taken.  But I'll sleep better knowing I no longer share oxygen with him.  He will never lay eyes on my sisters, my (bio) mom, my kids - anything again.  I may put on a pretty dress, make a nice dinner and pour a glass of wine and toast to FREEDOM.

Til Death Do Us Part - or infidelity

I'm 32.  I have 4 children - 3 boys and a girl.  I've been with my husband for 11 years.  And 2 weeks ago - he sent me divorce papers.  Apparently, I'm not as fun as a teenager.  Grown up life proved to be too much.  He cheated, I cheated, then he cheated again and hasn't stopped yet.  He left December 11, 2009.  The boys and I have been left to deal with the ups and downs, cleaning up the messes and get on with life.  So this is me - getting on with my life.  Reluctantly.

My sons - The Oldest (14), The Middle Son (7) and The Youngest Boy (3) have been my reasons for carrying on and have provided solace when I didn't think it was possible.  The 4 of us have formed this little tribe - unbreakable and delicate at the same time.  In August 2010 we welcomed Mini-Me- my daughter- into the world.  So go- do the math.  Yep - he left 8 days after the "+" sign.  But hey - we're not the first ones to go through this and we surely aren't the last.  Together we have faced some interesting and frustrating obstacles.  I don't know where I'd be without them. 

My friends have been there for me at all hours of the night.  Helping me analyze every text, call, email, visit and communication over the last 10 or so months.  Up to now I'd never been the type to cry.  Let alone cry uncontrollably.  Definetly not the type to cry uncontrollably on people.  Oh and never in public.  Boy how things change.  Used to be a time where I was always right.  My gut was never, ever wrong.  It's been an adjustment!  Not only is my gut wrong but I've been more wrong than I have ever thought possible. 

Anyway - my family, friends, therapist and even soon-to-be ex husband always said I should write.  It's always been my dream.  I don't want to pen the next Angela's Ashes or anything, nor do I want fame & fortune (at least not until the divorce is final, haha) - I just want to get it out.  Sometimes it's funny.  Sometimes it's angry.  Sometimes it's torn, confused, hurt, tearful or astounded.  It's always something.  Maybe somewhere someone else will find this in the vast internet and get some inspiration.