I've done some incredibly stupid things in my life. Once, when I was 5 or so I decided that I was going to make my 'rents laugh so hard that they'd have no choice but to commission a parade in my honor. Ever watched Dumb & Dumber? There's this scene where Lloyd (Jim Carrey) imagines that he shows up to Mary Swanson's house with her missing briefcase and in celebration & thanks her family invites him in for tea and strumpets. They are all sitting by the fireplace in oversized sweaters, cozy & warm, watching Lloyd do incredibly funny things with a lighter and a fart. They all love him. Yeah - that's kinda how I thought this would be. My aunt Joyce was in from Tennessee. My mum didn't get to see her often. So they were all sitting around the fire in the living room, looking at old photographs and talking about the good ole days. I was in the dining room rummaging through my mum's sewing box that was left on the table. Looking through her things was one of my favorite pastimes. In my adventure (In my head it was an archaeological dig) I came across this lone button. It was safely housed in a tiny, ziploc baggie. I opened the bag and took the small, red button out and the cogs started turning in my head. How can I use this little treasure to insight riotous laughter into the family in the next room? Ah - With my NOSE! The thought was that I can take this button, place it in the opening of my nostril, cover the other nostril and blow that button out so hard that it goes flying across the room. They will love me. The flaw in this glorious plan was that I breathed in really hard so that I could exhale really hard. Can you guess where the button went?
There was no laughter. Only fear, panic, some words inappropriate for a young child's ears and a disbursement of the crowd. I was scooped up into my mum's arms and placed in the car. My dad put on his jacket and got his keys. Off we went to the Emergency Room. Some time later I was prepped for surgery. The red button had made it's way into my sinus cavity and could not be reached with tweezers. We departed the hospital just in time for my Aunt to fly back to Tennessee. She died about 6 months later. I decided that I wouldn't try that again any time soon. I went on to commit some other interesting acts of stupidity - Tweezers into the electrical outlet no less than two times, feeding my friend real mud pies, washing my 'rents antique, wooden bedroom suite with Ajax, dropping my newborn sister on her ginormous head.... The list could go on!
A few years ago, Ex Douchebag & I decided to resurrect a notoriously violent wrestling promotion. He has an affinity for certain brands of hardcore wrestling - namely tables, ladders & chairs (TLC Matches). I've often feared for his life in the hundreds upon hundreds of matches I witnessed. Only once have I ever walked out of a show He was climbing a ladder when it started to sway and subsequently fell over. He got tangled in the ropes and I couldn't tell you what happened after that. I left. He went on to participate in quite a few more of these nauseating matches that terrified me to the core. The day of the show he purchased an ugly, aluminum, yellow, 6ft ladder. I watched helplessly as he climbed to the top and our friend, knocked him off. Repeatedly. This ladder bent and folded and opened and closed.... Generally, you don't want to re-use those ladders after they take that type of abuse. When Ex Douchebag & I split up and I moved out of our home I left many of his things behind, mostly his old weapons - a table, a folding chair, trashcans. He was supposed to go pick those things up. But for some reason I couldn't leave that hideous ladder behind. Not sure why, it's not like I can use the derned thing. I have zero intentions of ever using a ladder for anything at any time. If I can't stand on a chair then I don't need it.
Well - I ate my words today. This morning was going so well. I got up on time, got the kids dressed and ready, got The Middle Son to an appointment on time (a first!) and was generally in an incredible mood. Pulled into the driveway, unloaded The Middle Son & The Youngest Boy and proceeded to rouse a slumbering Mini-Me. The boys sat on the chairs on the front porch to wait. I decided to just give them my keys so they could get out of the heat. As a Public Service Announcement - I can't throw. Unless I'm REALLY angry. Throwing like a girl is an understatement. With my left hand I went to toss The Middle Son my house/car keys. And as if on purpose - my keys sailed through the blue sky right smack dab onto my roof and trailed down into the gutter.
You've got to be kidding me. Really? Landing in the bushes I can understand and even expect. Hell - landing 823 feet from the intended target would normally be the result. Not today. Today they land on the roof. I can't decide to laugh or cry. So I laughed. And then reality started to creep it's way up my spine. Oh no. How am I going to get them down? There's no chair tall enough to reach my roof. I am a towering 5'1". This cannot be really happening, right? Alan Funt is about to pop out any second and point out the multiple hidden cameras and explain how they used a superpowered magnet to set me up.... How'd they know I always keep a spare house key on my person at all times?
My only option is to dig that unreliable ladder out of the garage and retrieve my keys from what I am sure is a slimy, filthy gutter. I'm envisioning worms, maggots and the full menu from Fear Factor in there. After I instructed The Oldest to mail my updated life insurance policy which happened to be sitting on the computer desk in the event that I fell - I headed to the garage. Bravely I got the ladder to the front of the house. I can see where it's been bent and damaged from the last time it was used. Joe Rogan is somewhere behind me telling me not to throw up. Quickly I climb one rung at a time until I reach the point of no return. I feel around and cannot locate my keys. I have to take another step. If I fall it's really going to hurt. I spy my Wonder Woman keychain, grab her feet and pull her towards me. Shockingly, it's clean in there! But I'm not going to risk standing there examining any more of it! Got down and away without injury or incident.
I won't be throwing my keys again though. Ever.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
"You Didn't Say 'God Bless You'"
Sushi is my favorite food. Around my 30th birthday Ex Douchebag took me to a fabulous little sushi place and I immediately fell in love. Up to that point it was macaroni & cheese (which still holds a very dear spot in my heart). Not just any mac n cheese. Had to be Kraft. With the powdered cheese packet and a little too much milk. Mmmmmm........ heaven. Don't get me wrong - Alton Brown makes an immaculate mac & cheese. I use that for things like carry ins, potlucks or when I'm in the mood to gain 57 pounds.
When you become a parent you soon realize that eating is going to be a spectator sport. I prepare it. I plate it. I watch it fly in large quantities all over the table, floor, children's faces..... Then I clean it. Sometimes, if I am really lucky - I get to partake. I just don't have time. As I sit here with no kids and my pintos n cheese are getting cold on the table next to me.
Yesterday was one of those "If you can eat it and drive at the same time you'd better do it" days. There were so many things to do that I didn't have time. The final task of the day was to pick the boys up from Vacation Bible School. The kids are so excited to be participating in it and are very enthusiastic about telling me about what they have learned. So last night at 11ish I decided to toss a can of tuna in a bowl (I generally do not eat animals - I make exceptions for evolutionary mishaps such as poultry. Those things have wings they should fly if they don't want to be eaten). To spice it up I toss in a dash of mayo, some sour cream, some oregano & basil and a scoshe of relish for color. I plop down on the couch with my bowl, some wheat thins (the Kroger brand because I'm poor) and my little girl. I share a few bites with Mini-me and she is satisfied with snagging a cracker.
Middle Son and Youngest Boy take this quiet time to tell me what they have learned in this evenings lesson. They made little cross necklaces with colored beads. Each bead color has a meaning and Middle Son is explaining each one to me. Finally he gets to the last ones - hearts. He proceeds to clarify that these were just ones he added just because he liked them. At this point he is now very, very close to me. I have my bowl resting in my hands in front of me so that I can actively listen to what he is telling me. As the words "I Heart Jesus" are passing through his lips a sneeze is passing from his nose. Into. My. Bowl. I scream while watching as his spittle particles are traveling at a high rate of speed right smack dab into my dinner. Part of me is laughing. Part of me is ticked. But all I can do is look at my food in horror. And disgust. And slight contemplation as to whether or not I am going to take another bite. So I yell "YOU JUST 'I HEART JESUS'd" INTO MY DINNER!"
He says, with the most innocent eyes, "You didn't say 'God Bless You" so now you owe me $10."
When you become a parent you soon realize that eating is going to be a spectator sport. I prepare it. I plate it. I watch it fly in large quantities all over the table, floor, children's faces..... Then I clean it. Sometimes, if I am really lucky - I get to partake. I just don't have time. As I sit here with no kids and my pintos n cheese are getting cold on the table next to me.
Yesterday was one of those "If you can eat it and drive at the same time you'd better do it" days. There were so many things to do that I didn't have time. The final task of the day was to pick the boys up from Vacation Bible School. The kids are so excited to be participating in it and are very enthusiastic about telling me about what they have learned. So last night at 11ish I decided to toss a can of tuna in a bowl (I generally do not eat animals - I make exceptions for evolutionary mishaps such as poultry. Those things have wings they should fly if they don't want to be eaten). To spice it up I toss in a dash of mayo, some sour cream, some oregano & basil and a scoshe of relish for color. I plop down on the couch with my bowl, some wheat thins (the Kroger brand because I'm poor) and my little girl. I share a few bites with Mini-me and she is satisfied with snagging a cracker.
Middle Son and Youngest Boy take this quiet time to tell me what they have learned in this evenings lesson. They made little cross necklaces with colored beads. Each bead color has a meaning and Middle Son is explaining each one to me. Finally he gets to the last ones - hearts. He proceeds to clarify that these were just ones he added just because he liked them. At this point he is now very, very close to me. I have my bowl resting in my hands in front of me so that I can actively listen to what he is telling me. As the words "I Heart Jesus" are passing through his lips a sneeze is passing from his nose. Into. My. Bowl. I scream while watching as his spittle particles are traveling at a high rate of speed right smack dab into my dinner. Part of me is laughing. Part of me is ticked. But all I can do is look at my food in horror. And disgust. And slight contemplation as to whether or not I am going to take another bite. So I yell "YOU JUST 'I HEART JESUS'd" INTO MY DINNER!"
He says, with the most innocent eyes, "You didn't say 'God Bless You" so now you owe me $10."
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Could you Google the number for Poison Control?
As a mother of 3 boys you expect to have to call Poison Control center at least once. Me? Well - my first experience with the1-800-222-1222 was in 1998 when my, then 2 year old, son decided to SUPER GLUE HIS MOUTH SHUT. Normally this wouldn't be a complaint. I was just concerned that he may have to have his stomach pumped or need some kind of IV Fluids. (Cut me a break, I was 20). For your future reference, Super Glue is non-toxic. It takes hours to get hardened super glue out of the teeth of a 2 year old boy, you know, in case it comes up on Jeopardy.
Yesterday started like many do. Mini-Me & I rolled reluctantly out of my smarshmellow soft bed and moseyed down the hall to the living room. Her diaper was excessively full so I took it off and sat her bare behinded onto the floor. Youngest Boy then asked for some breakfast as he and Middle Son were already up and at em viciously fighting over Wii privileges. I proceeded to make a pot of coffee, Youngest Boy's breakfast and sent a particularly snide email to my ex (who went from being a doll to being a complete and total jackhole in a matter of minutes - we will never speak again) all of which took about, I dunno, 12 minutes or less. Mini-Me crawls over to find me and I start to smell the smell of something really smelly. She has pooed a trail from the television to my desk. Roughly 8 feet of my living room is a giant skid mark of 10 month old infant droppings. Greeeeeat. I pick her up, grab a towel, half-assedly wipe up the ooze and make my way to the bathroom. I inform the boys not to answer the door or the phone as I will be showering with the Mini Me since I am now also covered in yuck.
10 minutes later we are squeaky clean! Youngest Boy and Middle Son are continuing their brutal video game argument in their bedroom. I place Mini-Me in their room with them so that I can now mop my living room. Again, I am praising God for hardwood floors! 20 minutes later I have completed the mopping. I think that now I will indulge in that pot of coffee. The night before was so incredibly hard. I smoked a cigarette for the first time since December 2, 2009 and got my drunk on. (Yes, what he did was that bad. If it's possible for a shattered heart to break even more it's been accomplished in my rib cage) I needed to just brush the weekend off and add it to the list of things I've survived in my lifetime. No sooner do I get the fat free french vanilla creamer poured when I hear Middle Son skipping down the hall to tell me that Mini-Me has gotten into the paint.
Before Ex Douchebag's incredibly dastardly misdeeds occurred I was painting my 34 square foot bathroom "Red Geranium". I'm going to paint the trim black, add some brushed nickel fixtures, lay some black & white checked flooring, decorative light switch covers and hang my vintage concert posters - Janis, The Doors, Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline and Nirvana with my vinyl copies of Men Without Hats, Heart and The Village People. Music is the theme. Red seemed fitting. I didn't realize it was going to take 804 coats of this paint to cover the Pepto Pink that was previously on the walls. So this process has taken no less than 4 days and I'm still not even close to done.
I race down the hall to find my beautiful little girl happily splashing around in blood red paint that is quickly flowing from the overturned can. Apparently I hadn't sealed the lid completely and someone left the bathroom door open. In the 8 seconds it takes her to get from the boys' room to the bathroom doorway she'd managed to pull over the container. (Yes, nominate me for Mother of the Year!) Immediately I pick her up and call for The Oldest to help. I'm not sure which to do first. Toss her into the tub or stop the river of paint from taking over the hardwood floor hallway. Ultimately, it was neither. I asked The Oldest to get his camera. After he took the picture I put her into the tub - diaper & all and start hosing her off. That's when I realize there is a small amount of paint on her mouth. The Oldest comes into the bathroom to keep an eye on Mini - Me while I am scooping up handfuls of paint and pouring them back into the can. Mini-Me is screaming now and paint is seeping into the tiles, under the transition strip, beneath the trim and into the grains of the wood. The Oldest extracts a once again sparkling clean baby girl from the tub and whisks her off to the living room so that I can begin scrubbing.
"Hey [Oldest]" I call from my Cinderella position on the bathroom floor. He says, in a most annoyed voice - "Yes mother". "Could you Google the number for Poison Control?". There I am on my hands and knees scrubbing red paint from the floor dialing Poison Control. I look like Lizzie Bordon (had she really axed her parents). I'm still not even fully dried from my shower of 30 minutes ago. Mark, the RN on the other end of the phone assures me that Mini-Mewill be just fine. She may toss her cookies but she does not need a trip to the ER. I'm relieved. And I need a clone. Or 2. Or 4 - 1 to follow around each kid.
Yesterday started like many do. Mini-Me & I rolled reluctantly out of my smarshmellow soft bed and moseyed down the hall to the living room. Her diaper was excessively full so I took it off and sat her bare behinded onto the floor. Youngest Boy then asked for some breakfast as he and Middle Son were already up and at em viciously fighting over Wii privileges. I proceeded to make a pot of coffee, Youngest Boy's breakfast and sent a particularly snide email to my ex (who went from being a doll to being a complete and total jackhole in a matter of minutes - we will never speak again) all of which took about, I dunno, 12 minutes or less. Mini-Me crawls over to find me and I start to smell the smell of something really smelly. She has pooed a trail from the television to my desk. Roughly 8 feet of my living room is a giant skid mark of 10 month old infant droppings. Greeeeeat. I pick her up, grab a towel, half-assedly wipe up the ooze and make my way to the bathroom. I inform the boys not to answer the door or the phone as I will be showering with the Mini Me since I am now also covered in yuck.
10 minutes later we are squeaky clean! Youngest Boy and Middle Son are continuing their brutal video game argument in their bedroom. I place Mini-Me in their room with them so that I can now mop my living room. Again, I am praising God for hardwood floors! 20 minutes later I have completed the mopping. I think that now I will indulge in that pot of coffee. The night before was so incredibly hard. I smoked a cigarette for the first time since December 2, 2009 and got my drunk on. (Yes, what he did was that bad. If it's possible for a shattered heart to break even more it's been accomplished in my rib cage) I needed to just brush the weekend off and add it to the list of things I've survived in my lifetime. No sooner do I get the fat free french vanilla creamer poured when I hear Middle Son skipping down the hall to tell me that Mini-Me has gotten into the paint.
Before Ex Douchebag's incredibly dastardly misdeeds occurred I was painting my 34 square foot bathroom "Red Geranium". I'm going to paint the trim black, add some brushed nickel fixtures, lay some black & white checked flooring, decorative light switch covers and hang my vintage concert posters - Janis, The Doors, Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline and Nirvana with my vinyl copies of Men Without Hats, Heart and The Village People. Music is the theme. Red seemed fitting. I didn't realize it was going to take 804 coats of this paint to cover the Pepto Pink that was previously on the walls. So this process has taken no less than 4 days and I'm still not even close to done.
I race down the hall to find my beautiful little girl happily splashing around in blood red paint that is quickly flowing from the overturned can. Apparently I hadn't sealed the lid completely and someone left the bathroom door open. In the 8 seconds it takes her to get from the boys' room to the bathroom doorway she'd managed to pull over the container. (Yes, nominate me for Mother of the Year!) Immediately I pick her up and call for The Oldest to help. I'm not sure which to do first. Toss her into the tub or stop the river of paint from taking over the hardwood floor hallway. Ultimately, it was neither. I asked The Oldest to get his camera. After he took the picture I put her into the tub - diaper & all and start hosing her off. That's when I realize there is a small amount of paint on her mouth. The Oldest comes into the bathroom to keep an eye on Mini - Me while I am scooping up handfuls of paint and pouring them back into the can. Mini-Me is screaming now and paint is seeping into the tiles, under the transition strip, beneath the trim and into the grains of the wood. The Oldest extracts a once again sparkling clean baby girl from the tub and whisks her off to the living room so that I can begin scrubbing.
"Hey [Oldest]" I call from my Cinderella position on the bathroom floor. He says, in a most annoyed voice - "Yes mother". "Could you Google the number for Poison Control?". There I am on my hands and knees scrubbing red paint from the floor dialing Poison Control. I look like Lizzie Bordon (had she really axed her parents). I'm still not even fully dried from my shower of 30 minutes ago. Mark, the RN on the other end of the phone assures me that Mini-Mewill be just fine. She may toss her cookies but she does not need a trip to the ER. I'm relieved. And I need a clone. Or 2. Or 4 - 1 to follow around each kid.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Dear God
Dear God,
Let me start off by saying - I'm sorry for the crappy things I have done. I've made some serious mistakes. I've hurt people that I love. I've broken so many commandments. I've been wrong more times than I can count. I'm imperfect. In the past I've been selfish and self centered. I didn't read my Bible. I didn't go to church. I broke my marriage vows. I've been so angry at Ex Douchebag for leaving me the way he did that I got wrapped up in it. I cannot take back anything I have ever done and I wish I could sometimes. The last year I've been working on getting on the right path. For myself, for my family, for my children.
I remember why I walked away from You. I thought I was left behind. My sisters & I were living in squalor and being raped by a sicko that claimed he was a Christian. In my 8 year old mind I thought that no God that I'd read about would abandon me like that. I'd never done anything wrong. I got straight a's and did everything I was told. I prayed my hardest. Why would You leave a good little girl? Why would You let me hurt. I see now that I was given strength to survive and sense to go forward and go to police. I was given the courage to stand and fight to get out. But back then... well...all I wanted to do was end my own life. The images in my head haunted me and tormented me. I took it out on myself and everyone around me. I swore I'd worship Satan himself before I'd trust You again. I'm sorry. Sincerely.
Now my Middle Son is hurting like I did (for different reasons). He is so much like me that I'm scared for him. His little eyes fill with tears that I cannot stop. Watching your child hurt and knowing that there is nothing you can do to stop it - well You know what I mean. I've tried to reassure him. I've tried to hug him and kiss him and hold him. I've tried therapy. I have tried love. I've tried explaining to his father that this "here one minute, gone the next" attitude is taking a toll on him. He's talked about killing himself. He's talked about hurting others. He's reverted to an infant when I try to talk about the hard stuff. I've spent the last 6 months with Ex Douchebag trying to put our marriage back together because it's what I thought was best for our kids. It's not that he doesn't understand what is going on - it's that he does. Way more than he's been given credit for. Honestly, I think he understands even more than adults do. It's taking it's toll on him. It feels like all I can do is watch.
So God - I'm on my knees in front of the whole world. Help. Make it stop. Fix it. Be with him. My little baby didn't do anything wrong. I did. Ex Douchebag did. Not Middle Son. God please. Just protect my baby from our thoughtless, impulsive and stupid decisions.
Thanks for listening.
Let me start off by saying - I'm sorry for the crappy things I have done. I've made some serious mistakes. I've hurt people that I love. I've broken so many commandments. I've been wrong more times than I can count. I'm imperfect. In the past I've been selfish and self centered. I didn't read my Bible. I didn't go to church. I broke my marriage vows. I've been so angry at Ex Douchebag for leaving me the way he did that I got wrapped up in it. I cannot take back anything I have ever done and I wish I could sometimes. The last year I've been working on getting on the right path. For myself, for my family, for my children.
I remember why I walked away from You. I thought I was left behind. My sisters & I were living in squalor and being raped by a sicko that claimed he was a Christian. In my 8 year old mind I thought that no God that I'd read about would abandon me like that. I'd never done anything wrong. I got straight a's and did everything I was told. I prayed my hardest. Why would You leave a good little girl? Why would You let me hurt. I see now that I was given strength to survive and sense to go forward and go to police. I was given the courage to stand and fight to get out. But back then... well...all I wanted to do was end my own life. The images in my head haunted me and tormented me. I took it out on myself and everyone around me. I swore I'd worship Satan himself before I'd trust You again. I'm sorry. Sincerely.
Now my Middle Son is hurting like I did (for different reasons). He is so much like me that I'm scared for him. His little eyes fill with tears that I cannot stop. Watching your child hurt and knowing that there is nothing you can do to stop it - well You know what I mean. I've tried to reassure him. I've tried to hug him and kiss him and hold him. I've tried therapy. I have tried love. I've tried explaining to his father that this "here one minute, gone the next" attitude is taking a toll on him. He's talked about killing himself. He's talked about hurting others. He's reverted to an infant when I try to talk about the hard stuff. I've spent the last 6 months with Ex Douchebag trying to put our marriage back together because it's what I thought was best for our kids. It's not that he doesn't understand what is going on - it's that he does. Way more than he's been given credit for. Honestly, I think he understands even more than adults do. It's taking it's toll on him. It feels like all I can do is watch.
So God - I'm on my knees in front of the whole world. Help. Make it stop. Fix it. Be with him. My little baby didn't do anything wrong. I did. Ex Douchebag did. Not Middle Son. God please. Just protect my baby from our thoughtless, impulsive and stupid decisions.
Thanks for listening.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Hey Kids! Check out this mushroom!
Yesterday I celebrated 15 years of motherhood. Do I get a badge or like a free meal or something? At least a card for my wallet or a discount on Tylenol?
I started the day by napping on the couch with my snuggly 8 month old daughter that I was woken from by a particularly insane nightmare. A pink & black tarantula with razor legs that sliced my cats face and then gave birth to some really UGLY kittens was in my kitchen. For clarity - the tarantula did the birthing, not my cat. Cleaning my 8 & 4 year old sons bedroom then followed. I was putting off mowing as looooooooooong as possible.
My procrastination was for good reason. Or reasons in this case. I've only mowed a lawn like twice in all my 33 years. My yard now is quite large. Most of my neighbors all have riding mowers. Last year I was pregnant so I got a pass. I hired some guy who tried very hard to soak me of money. My old yard was maybe 50-60 feet. It shouldn't cost me $100 every 2 weeks to have it mowed. ANYWAY.......... I digress. The mower hasn't been started in ages. I can't get it started. I'm just not very mechanical like that. I've since determined that it's broken. It involves duct tape. LOL. (Did someone hear Jeff Foxworthy?) WOOHOO. My sister offered to let me borrow hers. The fun begins.
Getting the mower into my minivan - Task #1. My sister lives on a steep hill. Getting the mower OUT of the garage was the easy part. It sailed quite quickly down the hill and almost into the street. (sshhhhh!) I open the back door and move some seats forward, hop in it and attempt to pull it into the van. Uh, notsomuch. Then I got out and picked it up trying to not touch blades. I tried to push it. That didn't work either. I can feel eyes on me now. The neighbors are staring. Everyone is looking at me. Watching. Laughing. Finally, I got it in! I got home and proceeded to try to gently get the derned thing out of the van. I dropped it. (sssssshhhhhh!) I've never felt so "on the spot" before. Everyone is outside. There's a party going on across the street. Now there are more people watching than I want. I really don't want anyone to watch. I feel stupid. But alas, I must mow! I checked the gas - full. I primered - 3 times per the instructions!. I hold the stupid handle...... and PULL. Nothing happens. And again with the pulling. The mower mocks me. And again. Now people are looking again. And pointing. And I can hear their whispering. I move to the garage so that I am no longer a spectacle. And it still won't start. I text my sister - "How do you start this thing? There wasn't a key!" (I was kidding about the "key" part) She calls from Amish Country. Walks me thru - then The Oldest joins the party. Together we started the mower!
My one neighbor is TERRIFIED that I am going to hurt his car. Dude - it's a Dodge. Not a Porsche. Get over yourself. We live in suburbia. Seriously, I'm not going to damage your sweet ride. He moved his car. Whatever dude. Anyway... So I start mowing. Seems easy enough. I really wish people would STOP watching me. I feel like I'm a Macy's float. It really feels like I should be waving to those around me. I need a mowing Tiara. The mower stalls and I'm struggling to get it started again. Here come some neighborhood children to ask me questions. I just want them to shut up and go away. I don't want them to draw attention to the fact that I have NO flippin clue what I'm doing. So I play it off as though I have to pee so I can go investigate the source of the stall out without an audience. And I'm back in business!
Once I finished the front lawn I was ready to move to the back. At least there the judging eyes of neighbors and passersby would be gone. This is where it gets tough. I'm mowing dandelions. The clippings come out of a side chute right into a gust of wind and all over me. They are wet which adds to the experience. I now know why mowing should be done in pants. I ran over a patch of mushrooms and had the same outcome. I feel so gross right now. As I mow the parameter of my backyard I am noticing little things about it that I didn't see before. A rut here, a strange patch of grass there.... When I come across this large, whitish flattened mushy thing that was bright orange on the inside. It's the strangest looking mushroom I've ever seen! I make a mental note to show the kids.
I finish and turn around - I feel all accomplished and proud. It feels great! I did it. Oh and I purposely didn't mow the side lawn that I share with my neighbors driveway out of spite (and the mower stalled again). Then I remembered. "Hey kids! Check out this mushroom!!!!" As I approached the mushroom I was so excited to see the looks on their faces. I made it to the spot in the yard and just as I started to call for the kids a second time I nudged it with my foot. A wave of the realization of stupidity came over me. It was a moldy orange one of the kids left out in the yard last week.
Let's keep this between us.
I started the day by napping on the couch with my snuggly 8 month old daughter that I was woken from by a particularly insane nightmare. A pink & black tarantula with razor legs that sliced my cats face and then gave birth to some really UGLY kittens was in my kitchen. For clarity - the tarantula did the birthing, not my cat. Cleaning my 8 & 4 year old sons bedroom then followed. I was putting off mowing as looooooooooong as possible.
My procrastination was for good reason. Or reasons in this case. I've only mowed a lawn like twice in all my 33 years. My yard now is quite large. Most of my neighbors all have riding mowers. Last year I was pregnant so I got a pass. I hired some guy who tried very hard to soak me of money. My old yard was maybe 50-60 feet. It shouldn't cost me $100 every 2 weeks to have it mowed. ANYWAY.......... I digress. The mower hasn't been started in ages. I can't get it started. I'm just not very mechanical like that. I've since determined that it's broken. It involves duct tape. LOL. (Did someone hear Jeff Foxworthy?) WOOHOO. My sister offered to let me borrow hers. The fun begins.
Getting the mower into my minivan - Task #1. My sister lives on a steep hill. Getting the mower OUT of the garage was the easy part. It sailed quite quickly down the hill and almost into the street. (sshhhhh!) I open the back door and move some seats forward, hop in it and attempt to pull it into the van. Uh, notsomuch. Then I got out and picked it up trying to not touch blades. I tried to push it. That didn't work either. I can feel eyes on me now. The neighbors are staring. Everyone is looking at me. Watching. Laughing. Finally, I got it in! I got home and proceeded to try to gently get the derned thing out of the van. I dropped it. (sssssshhhhhh!) I've never felt so "on the spot" before. Everyone is outside. There's a party going on across the street. Now there are more people watching than I want. I really don't want anyone to watch. I feel stupid. But alas, I must mow! I checked the gas - full. I primered - 3 times per the instructions!. I hold the stupid handle...... and PULL. Nothing happens. And again with the pulling. The mower mocks me. And again. Now people are looking again. And pointing. And I can hear their whispering. I move to the garage so that I am no longer a spectacle. And it still won't start. I text my sister - "How do you start this thing? There wasn't a key!" (I was kidding about the "key" part) She calls from Amish Country. Walks me thru - then The Oldest joins the party. Together we started the mower!
My one neighbor is TERRIFIED that I am going to hurt his car. Dude - it's a Dodge. Not a Porsche. Get over yourself. We live in suburbia. Seriously, I'm not going to damage your sweet ride. He moved his car. Whatever dude. Anyway... So I start mowing. Seems easy enough. I really wish people would STOP watching me. I feel like I'm a Macy's float. It really feels like I should be waving to those around me. I need a mowing Tiara. The mower stalls and I'm struggling to get it started again. Here come some neighborhood children to ask me questions. I just want them to shut up and go away. I don't want them to draw attention to the fact that I have NO flippin clue what I'm doing. So I play it off as though I have to pee so I can go investigate the source of the stall out without an audience. And I'm back in business!
Once I finished the front lawn I was ready to move to the back. At least there the judging eyes of neighbors and passersby would be gone. This is where it gets tough. I'm mowing dandelions. The clippings come out of a side chute right into a gust of wind and all over me. They are wet which adds to the experience. I now know why mowing should be done in pants. I ran over a patch of mushrooms and had the same outcome. I feel so gross right now. As I mow the parameter of my backyard I am noticing little things about it that I didn't see before. A rut here, a strange patch of grass there.... When I come across this large, whitish flattened mushy thing that was bright orange on the inside. It's the strangest looking mushroom I've ever seen! I make a mental note to show the kids.
I finish and turn around - I feel all accomplished and proud. It feels great! I did it. Oh and I purposely didn't mow the side lawn that I share with my neighbors driveway out of spite (and the mower stalled again). Then I remembered. "Hey kids! Check out this mushroom!!!!" As I approached the mushroom I was so excited to see the looks on their faces. I made it to the spot in the yard and just as I started to call for the kids a second time I nudged it with my foot. A wave of the realization of stupidity came over me. It was a moldy orange one of the kids left out in the yard last week.
Let's keep this between us.
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