Again I have no idea what to say. R and the felon have been causing all sorts of drama recently, but I would rather just pretend they both died in their sleep last night than deal with it. He has spent so much time wanting to be my friend, he had to sneak behind her back to contact me but (now that we are past our marriage) the friendship we'd had since high school was important to both of us. She thinks that I initiated all contact and that I'm trying to steal him back from her. She emails me from his facebook account, she texts me from his phone trying to get me to say something incriminating. He gave her the passwords and handed her his phone. He even said that she's allowed to have my number and he wants her to call me anytime she feels like it because he won't ever keep a secret from her. Suddenly G and I are both harassed for days at a time and R says he won't do anything to stop it. Of course, he will hit another low period of his bipolar in a week or two and call me crying that he wants to stay friends and that he'll fix everything. He'll tell her he's going to "run to the store for cigarettes" at 10pm and take an hour to get home, he'll "have lunch at the office" once or twice a week, he'll claim to be "on the phone with mom..." He'll call me or text me every day for a month, begging me to forgive him. And I will talk to him, hoping that he's better, letting myself believe that he will stop her from contacting me again. Another month or two will go by where we only talk once a week. Then she'll sign into his facebook or open his mail and see a note from me thanking him for talking to me one night when I was really stressed, the floodgates will open and I will get threatening messages again. I see a visit to Jerry Springer in her future. I just hope I can finally say goodbye to my friendship with R before I get dragged on that stage with them. I am too sentimental, I hold onto things for much longer than they are worth saving. Time to clean house.
Time to enjoy my life with G! Making his favorite meals; sneaking in wonderful dessert once a month; inventing silly TV watching rules like "commercial time is mandatory make-out time;" feeling his whole body laugh, asking him why, and getting the response of "you were just so cute when you did that, that's why I love you..." This is the life I want, what I want to focus on. Disappear from my life, R, you don't deserve me.
02 November 2010
24 August 2010
The Evolution of Birthdays
I remember my mom planning birthday parties when we were little: baking the cake, blowing up balloons, cleaning the house knowing that us kids would just trash it beyond recognition, renting movies and mentally preparing herself for us to keep her up all night with the giggling and asking for popcorn... And then the late-teen, early adult years. Birthdays turned into watching us rush out the door, barely acknowledging the cake she still dutifully made, as we hurried to spend the occassion with friends instead of family. Then we became actual adults and birthdays meant very little. Sometimes a dinner out, maybe a simple gift, but really it's just another day.
Today I turned 28. Doesn't seem that old, but it took so few years for this day to morph from blissful celebration into just another Tuesday. I'm even going to work tonight for a few hours!
But this is also the age of social media- twitter and facebook rule the day. And that is where I was reminded that birthdays can still be a celebration even if they are just another Tuesday. Friends who were never at slumber parties, ones I was close with for only a short time, ones who seemed lost due to distance and circumstance... they all came to my profile today and posted on my wall. By 1am there were already 5 messages, another 10 before I woke up this morning. As of noon today, 27 people loved me enough to make my birthday their priority for the 5 seconds it took to type and post a message. 5 seconds may not seem like a lot, but it's enough to make me smile.
And my facebook wall is so much easier to clean up than a carpet full of trampled cake.
Today I turned 28. Doesn't seem that old, but it took so few years for this day to morph from blissful celebration into just another Tuesday. I'm even going to work tonight for a few hours!
But this is also the age of social media- twitter and facebook rule the day. And that is where I was reminded that birthdays can still be a celebration even if they are just another Tuesday. Friends who were never at slumber parties, ones I was close with for only a short time, ones who seemed lost due to distance and circumstance... they all came to my profile today and posted on my wall. By 1am there were already 5 messages, another 10 before I woke up this morning. As of noon today, 27 people loved me enough to make my birthday their priority for the 5 seconds it took to type and post a message. 5 seconds may not seem like a lot, but it's enough to make me smile.
And my facebook wall is so much easier to clean up than a carpet full of trampled cake.
31 July 2010
Life Moving On
It has been too long yet again. I guess maybe I could blame it on work (after over 2 months unemployed I found a part-time job, and then 3 weeks ago found a second part-time job), or say that it is summer and I have been busy enjoying the great weather, or some other excuse... But I think that a lot of the reason is that I have my friends back. The ones I didn't have time to see when I was married to R, the ones that R called a dozen times a day while we were separated- so much that they changed their phone number and avoided me so that they could avoid him, the ones I forgot about when I was spending every second forcing a "perfect marriage" onto what was so obviously broken... I have my girls that I can say anything to and love hanging out with. And now I have ignored the blog world that I turned to (and hid in) for so long. I am sorry, my dear readers, you deserve more out of me.
It is finally confirmed that my boyfriend (G) and I are moving in together! His father is moving out of state and giving him the house. Small house out in the country, a little piece of land, halfway between town and my mom's house way out in the country... Of course, we have no idea when his father is moving. Possibly this October, maybe next fall sometime... Wonderful news, wrapped in a bit of uncertainty and disappointment. It is hard for me to keep from wanting to break into the house now and take measurements for new curtains, check out lighting to plan for painting, and daydream in every furniture store within 100 miles. 3 months isn't so long to wait, a year would give me plenty of time to plan and design and slowly start buying new dishes... Oh the unfinished thoughts running through my head, because without a timeline I can't prepare. I really do like to plan and prepare and daydream.
The housing situation is up in the air, but the relationship is as amazing as ever. His mother is up here visiting from Louisianna the past week and last night was a family get-together at his sister's house. His brother has always welcomed me with open arms, but I was a little nervous about his mom and sister (R used to be quite close with the family, cut them off before we even started dating, then tried to re-bond with them after our divorce when he found out that my friendship with G was turning into a relationship). Everybody was so great to me last night, telling stories about when they were kids, Mom even leaning in to tell me silly memories she had of them growing up.
What an amazing feeling, being included. R's family was always so cold to me, and sometimes downright cruel to him right in front of me. I have always known that my family couldn't be the only one that loved so deeply and obvoiusly, that only wanted each other to be happy, that welcomed new members with open arms. It is so great to see everything wonderful about my family reflected in G's. They don't even blink at the age difference (I will be 28 in 3 weeks, he will be 40 this winter), they don't question how we became so close (my brothers knew him, R never introduced us or ever wanted to be around him while we were married, even though R and G had known each other since R was born), they just accept me and actually care about getting to know me. A horrible family can so easily wreck a relationship, but G's family is going to be the kind that embraces it and makes the relationship that much better. Loving him is the easiest thing I have ever tried or wanted to do.
R is engaged. Turns out the felon got off with just some probation. She has banned him from letting me see Little H, and he is going along with it. I miss my son. His smile, his laugh, his cocky attitude. Watching him sleep at night, the faces he makes when he is reading an advanced book and he can't pronounce a word. I die inside when I think about it, so I shut it out. Even these few sentences took so long to write because I couldn't see through the tears.
So that's where I am now: so in love with G, wanting nothing but forever by his side, devastated that my ex is moving on because that means my stepson is gone too. Life isn't perfect, but for the most part it is pretty damn close.
It is finally confirmed that my boyfriend (G) and I are moving in together! His father is moving out of state and giving him the house. Small house out in the country, a little piece of land, halfway between town and my mom's house way out in the country... Of course, we have no idea when his father is moving. Possibly this October, maybe next fall sometime... Wonderful news, wrapped in a bit of uncertainty and disappointment. It is hard for me to keep from wanting to break into the house now and take measurements for new curtains, check out lighting to plan for painting, and daydream in every furniture store within 100 miles. 3 months isn't so long to wait, a year would give me plenty of time to plan and design and slowly start buying new dishes... Oh the unfinished thoughts running through my head, because without a timeline I can't prepare. I really do like to plan and prepare and daydream.
The housing situation is up in the air, but the relationship is as amazing as ever. His mother is up here visiting from Louisianna the past week and last night was a family get-together at his sister's house. His brother has always welcomed me with open arms, but I was a little nervous about his mom and sister (R used to be quite close with the family, cut them off before we even started dating, then tried to re-bond with them after our divorce when he found out that my friendship with G was turning into a relationship). Everybody was so great to me last night, telling stories about when they were kids, Mom even leaning in to tell me silly memories she had of them growing up.
What an amazing feeling, being included. R's family was always so cold to me, and sometimes downright cruel to him right in front of me. I have always known that my family couldn't be the only one that loved so deeply and obvoiusly, that only wanted each other to be happy, that welcomed new members with open arms. It is so great to see everything wonderful about my family reflected in G's. They don't even blink at the age difference (I will be 28 in 3 weeks, he will be 40 this winter), they don't question how we became so close (my brothers knew him, R never introduced us or ever wanted to be around him while we were married, even though R and G had known each other since R was born), they just accept me and actually care about getting to know me. A horrible family can so easily wreck a relationship, but G's family is going to be the kind that embraces it and makes the relationship that much better. Loving him is the easiest thing I have ever tried or wanted to do.
R is engaged. Turns out the felon got off with just some probation. She has banned him from letting me see Little H, and he is going along with it. I miss my son. His smile, his laugh, his cocky attitude. Watching him sleep at night, the faces he makes when he is reading an advanced book and he can't pronounce a word. I die inside when I think about it, so I shut it out. Even these few sentences took so long to write because I couldn't see through the tears.
So that's where I am now: so in love with G, wanting nothing but forever by his side, devastated that my ex is moving on because that means my stepson is gone too. Life isn't perfect, but for the most part it is pretty damn close.
15 April 2010
Not much to say, but I'll write anyway
So, it's been a month since I last wrote. Still no job, still no major progress on my boyfriend's house hunt, no contact with Little H in the past month either. I guess there is some moving forward, though. Tomorrow is my nephew's first birthday.
Boog (the nephew) spends one day a week with me. It started as time with his daddy (my brother), but Daddy got a full-time job so Auntie Roy became daycare. He was a terror today! Spitting food, screaming, biting, repeatedly doing the exact same thing he's been told "no" about a million times before. Throwing toys out the window, grabbing my glasses, slamming his toy train against the ferret cage... Out came the pack-n-play and he got put in jail. Which made him laugh. He doesn't even understand punishment!!! Makes Auntie Roy even more frustrated. Last month he was cutting a molar, so he spent all day in my lap, hugging me, silent, content to just sit there and play with my fingers. Can I have my Cuddle Boog back? I don't mind returning the Devil Boog I accidentally got today.
Yep, 1 day a week is enough parenting for me. Even on the cute days I don't mind sending him back to his mother. I am still amazed by how I feel about having children of my own. I know I would love having a child, I get a little jealous when everybody around me is pregnant (which has been the case for the past year straight, including one who just found out so I'll be hearing about her for another 7 months), and my boyfriend would make an incredible father. But I also know that I don't like waking up in the middle of the night, changing diapers every hour or two gets to be exhausting, I like my boobs exactly the way they are, and I don't want to change my favorite sexual positions to accommodate a growing belly. I like making plans for myself, not trying to squeeze in what I want to do around nap times and play dates. And I definitely like having my man to myself.
I never thought I was the type that would be this selfish. I want what I want and I don't want a baby to demand things from me. Or is it simpler than that: I can't have a baby so I'm going to brainwash myself into believing that I don't want one anyway... I'm thinking I don't want to know which it is, I would rather feel relief knowing that there is some reason why I'm content without children than feel guilt that I'm either selfish or mental enough to brainwash myself.
Boog (the nephew) spends one day a week with me. It started as time with his daddy (my brother), but Daddy got a full-time job so Auntie Roy became daycare. He was a terror today! Spitting food, screaming, biting, repeatedly doing the exact same thing he's been told "no" about a million times before. Throwing toys out the window, grabbing my glasses, slamming his toy train against the ferret cage... Out came the pack-n-play and he got put in jail. Which made him laugh. He doesn't even understand punishment!!! Makes Auntie Roy even more frustrated. Last month he was cutting a molar, so he spent all day in my lap, hugging me, silent, content to just sit there and play with my fingers. Can I have my Cuddle Boog back? I don't mind returning the Devil Boog I accidentally got today.
Yep, 1 day a week is enough parenting for me. Even on the cute days I don't mind sending him back to his mother. I am still amazed by how I feel about having children of my own. I know I would love having a child, I get a little jealous when everybody around me is pregnant (which has been the case for the past year straight, including one who just found out so I'll be hearing about her for another 7 months), and my boyfriend would make an incredible father. But I also know that I don't like waking up in the middle of the night, changing diapers every hour or two gets to be exhausting, I like my boobs exactly the way they are, and I don't want to change my favorite sexual positions to accommodate a growing belly. I like making plans for myself, not trying to squeeze in what I want to do around nap times and play dates. And I definitely like having my man to myself.
I never thought I was the type that would be this selfish. I want what I want and I don't want a baby to demand things from me. Or is it simpler than that: I can't have a baby so I'm going to brainwash myself into believing that I don't want one anyway... I'm thinking I don't want to know which it is, I would rather feel relief knowing that there is some reason why I'm content without children than feel guilt that I'm either selfish or mental enough to brainwash myself.
16 March 2010
April 2008 to March 2010...
June 2008 my marriage officially ended. It was past time, believe me. I hated him, he sure didn't seem to like me at all anymore, the only thing that held me there was the intense desire to not lose Little H- the only child I would ever have. Even Little H wasn't enough to combat being yelled at and called names constantly.
Turns out R is bipolar, the version with rage and jealousy and paranoia. Nope, he couldn't be the hyper kind, his manic episodes were mean ones. I kind of thought that was the case, but he refused to get any help at all until his new girlfriend (she moved in 3 weeks after I left) said something. He's been through 3 live-in girlfriends since then, one of whom was girlfriend #1's sister... The current girl is also a temporary one- she is awaiting her sentencing on federal drug trafficking charges and within a month will likely be "leaving" for 6-12 months. He's going to wait for her, he has never felt this way about anybody before, etc.
I have been dating a wonderful man for 15 months now. We worked together until just a couple weeks ago. Everybody says they don't know how we could stand working together all day and then spending the rest of the day together, too. It worked for us, like really well worked for us. At work we were completely professional, and then we'd be home and could relax and enjoy each other. We both actually miss being together 24 hours a day. With me no longer working there, we only see each other 2 nights a week (can't waste all of my savings driving 20 miles each way to see him, gotta find a new job first), and we are both miserable. He is currently living in an apartment where the rent is "per person," so moving in together is not possible until he moves. Which will probably be happening sometime this year. He has been looking more and more for a house to buy, and has made it obvious that the house is for me as well.
Commitment is scary, it has gone so wrong for me in the past. I'm afraid to feel this in-love again, I don't want to feel like I'm floating when he looks at me, I get a little nervous when my heart wants to scream the "L" word... He is even more afraid of commitment than I am. And here we are, stumbling through it together, indulging in every moment we can spend in each others arms, talking about the future (including the extreme future) as if it's a given, committing to each other so extremely- as long as there are no labels...
I am in love- a love that I could have never defined before now, so different from what I thought love was when I married R- solid, heavy, honest, scary. I thought love was floating, I thought it meant sparkles and bubbles and sugar and dancing on air. I never thought love could mean sweating like never before while watching a softball tournament or not having to say a word for hours or just contentment. When I am with him, there is nowhere else I would ever want to be. I don't dream of romantic dates or escaping to a tropical island, I just want him. I can live without him, as long as that only means my twice a month girls night out, and his weekly boys night playing video games. I can be with him 24 hours a day and not want him to leave my side. I almost didn't know I was in love, but I think that's because I'm not in love. I just love him, and that is a huge difference. There are no illusions, no games, no secrets. We are completely ourselves and there is love.
June 2008 my marriage officially ended. It was past time, believe me. I hated him, he sure didn't seem to like me at all anymore, the only thing that held me there was the intense desire to not lose Little H- the only child I would ever have. Even Little H wasn't enough to combat being yelled at and called names constantly.
Turns out R is bipolar, the version with rage and jealousy and paranoia. Nope, he couldn't be the hyper kind, his manic episodes were mean ones. I kind of thought that was the case, but he refused to get any help at all until his new girlfriend (she moved in 3 weeks after I left) said something. He's been through 3 live-in girlfriends since then, one of whom was girlfriend #1's sister... The current girl is also a temporary one- she is awaiting her sentencing on federal drug trafficking charges and within a month will likely be "leaving" for 6-12 months. He's going to wait for her, he has never felt this way about anybody before, etc.
I have been dating a wonderful man for 15 months now. We worked together until just a couple weeks ago. Everybody says they don't know how we could stand working together all day and then spending the rest of the day together, too. It worked for us, like really well worked for us. At work we were completely professional, and then we'd be home and could relax and enjoy each other. We both actually miss being together 24 hours a day. With me no longer working there, we only see each other 2 nights a week (can't waste all of my savings driving 20 miles each way to see him, gotta find a new job first), and we are both miserable. He is currently living in an apartment where the rent is "per person," so moving in together is not possible until he moves. Which will probably be happening sometime this year. He has been looking more and more for a house to buy, and has made it obvious that the house is for me as well.
Commitment is scary, it has gone so wrong for me in the past. I'm afraid to feel this in-love again, I don't want to feel like I'm floating when he looks at me, I get a little nervous when my heart wants to scream the "L" word... He is even more afraid of commitment than I am. And here we are, stumbling through it together, indulging in every moment we can spend in each others arms, talking about the future (including the extreme future) as if it's a given, committing to each other so extremely- as long as there are no labels...
I am in love- a love that I could have never defined before now, so different from what I thought love was when I married R- solid, heavy, honest, scary. I thought love was floating, I thought it meant sparkles and bubbles and sugar and dancing on air. I never thought love could mean sweating like never before while watching a softball tournament or not having to say a word for hours or just contentment. When I am with him, there is nowhere else I would ever want to be. I don't dream of romantic dates or escaping to a tropical island, I just want him. I can live without him, as long as that only means my twice a month girls night out, and his weekly boys night playing video games. I can be with him 24 hours a day and not want him to leave my side. I almost didn't know I was in love, but I think that's because I'm not in love. I just love him, and that is a huge difference. There are no illusions, no games, no secrets. We are completely ourselves and there is love.
18 April 2008
Two months
That's how long it's been since my last blog. I'm not sure how long before my next. Not only does R read my blog secretly, but there is also at least one anonymous "friend" that stalks all of my internet activity. I've secluded myself to just 2 message boards that I feel safe on (well moderated, and never spoken of by name, by invitation only, etc).
6 months ago I didn't feel safe on my laptop. R had installed a keystroke logger and watched everything I did. I still don't trust that I can speak (type) freely on it. Which leaves the desktop, which R has constant access to, so I can pretty much guarantee it's bugged in some way. I'm not out trolling for a lover or stashing money so I can disappear, so I'm not feeling any sort of guilt. But R has taken away my way to share my feelings while still being private, if you know what I mean. Every time I log on I'm reminded that he didn't trust me (at the time I was having a flirtatious fling, so I guess he was slightly justified, but R assumed it was a sexual affair not just humorous flirting), and that I can't trust anything he touches.
It's crazy, but so many of the issues I still have can be linked back to that program. If I am at the store and run into the DJ I was accused of sleeping with, my heart pounds and I'm scared to say hello, even though we were friends for years before R and I got married (and nothing happened between us, no matter what my exBFF says- she admitted to trying to use the "news" to get into R's pants, but that's beside the point). My mind races and I immediately call R and tell him every word of the conversation, just to make sure he hears it from me first. I've turned shy around even my closest friends if we go out, because I don't want anybody to assume that I'm acting "too single" or "not married enough" or whatever they want to call it. I have actually really withdrawn from my message boards even. I post a couple times a week, usually oooh-ing at a new baby or answering the "what are you doing this weekend?" poll. Never anything personal, never anything that deals with R or emotions. Just the usual "awww, look at that beautiful tiny, I just wanna nibble his/her toes" and I disappear again. I hide even the good things, because I'm afraid I'll get comfortable sharing and let something less-than-perfect slip.
So I write this blog, knowing that R will read it. And the anonymous friend (who posted as "concerned" or "worried" or something like that earlier this year). And I prepare to disappear again. I'm going to be scared of my shadow for a very long time. *insert groundhog joke here* Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice trying to save my marriage. Some days it seems beyond repair, others it seems hopeless. But every once in a while we have one great day and I wish we could have more. So I stay, and hope those great days become more frequent. So far they haven't.
*Oh, and the tattoo is finished- the outline anyway- for those of you following that saga. As you can tell from the above, pics are probably not going to be posted here anytime soon, but you can email me and I'll send you one that way (in a week or two, once I've actually taken the time to take pics of it)... infertileroy@yahoo*
6 months ago I didn't feel safe on my laptop. R had installed a keystroke logger and watched everything I did. I still don't trust that I can speak (type) freely on it. Which leaves the desktop, which R has constant access to, so I can pretty much guarantee it's bugged in some way. I'm not out trolling for a lover or stashing money so I can disappear, so I'm not feeling any sort of guilt. But R has taken away my way to share my feelings while still being private, if you know what I mean. Every time I log on I'm reminded that he didn't trust me (at the time I was having a flirtatious fling, so I guess he was slightly justified, but R assumed it was a sexual affair not just humorous flirting), and that I can't trust anything he touches.
It's crazy, but so many of the issues I still have can be linked back to that program. If I am at the store and run into the DJ I was accused of sleeping with, my heart pounds and I'm scared to say hello, even though we were friends for years before R and I got married (and nothing happened between us, no matter what my exBFF says- she admitted to trying to use the "news" to get into R's pants, but that's beside the point). My mind races and I immediately call R and tell him every word of the conversation, just to make sure he hears it from me first. I've turned shy around even my closest friends if we go out, because I don't want anybody to assume that I'm acting "too single" or "not married enough" or whatever they want to call it. I have actually really withdrawn from my message boards even. I post a couple times a week, usually oooh-ing at a new baby or answering the "what are you doing this weekend?" poll. Never anything personal, never anything that deals with R or emotions. Just the usual "awww, look at that beautiful tiny, I just wanna nibble his/her toes" and I disappear again. I hide even the good things, because I'm afraid I'll get comfortable sharing and let something less-than-perfect slip.
So I write this blog, knowing that R will read it. And the anonymous friend (who posted as "concerned" or "worried" or something like that earlier this year). And I prepare to disappear again. I'm going to be scared of my shadow for a very long time. *insert groundhog joke here* Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice trying to save my marriage. Some days it seems beyond repair, others it seems hopeless. But every once in a while we have one great day and I wish we could have more. So I stay, and hope those great days become more frequent. So far they haven't.
*Oh, and the tattoo is finished- the outline anyway- for those of you following that saga. As you can tell from the above, pics are probably not going to be posted here anytime soon, but you can email me and I'll send you one that way (in a week or two, once I've actually taken the time to take pics of it)... infertileroy@yahoo*
13 February 2008
No clue, but I'm trying (kids mentioned)
It has been entirely too long since I've blogged. I say that so often, because so often I get lazy with my blogging. Sometimes I'm distracted, sometimes I am away from home, sometimes my life is just so boring that I can't think of anything worthwhile to blog about. Last week was excuse #2, yesterday was excuse #1, today is excuse #3. Although I'm going to type anyway, no matter how pointless the information is.
I never did blog about my friend's baby a couple weeks ago. There was a lot of drama in K's relationship with J way back when. They did the on-off thing, although in the year before they got married it was extreme. On=pregnant, off=m/c. Seriously. They got married during pgcy #3, which resulted in a beautiful little girl (they oh-so-deserved a perfect baby after what they'd been through, even though I wasn't sure I liked him marrying her). For the record- K is a guy, my best friend, I know I've blogged about him before, in my 100 things. Anyway, their little girl is 2 1/2-ish. New baby just came out a couple weeks ago, they induced at 37 weeks because J was in so much pain and had been on bedrest since 16, strict bedrest since 22wks. I don't know all the details from early on, because they nearly divorced over this baby. My dearest K is not the daddy and he knew it from the beginning. They have resolved all baby-daddy issues and are happy now. I'm still slightly conflicted. Although hearing the wonder in K's voice when he talks about his new son, it melts me. As long as K is happy, so am I.
Last week I disappeared on Tuesday. Snow was forecast for Wednesday and Thursday, the two options for when I could go downstate to get Little H (I pick him up on Thurs, but sometimes go down a night early and hang out with Uncle Tattoo and such). So, R rushed me into packing my stuff and we took off. You see, the truck has a seemingly exploded brake line, so my car is our only vehicle. And he needed it for work for the week, so he dropped me in town with Uncle Tattoo and made arrangements for me to use my mom's car to pick up Little H from school. 2 days before I could pick up Little H, stranded in town with no car (I could have gotten a ride to my mom's house when my dad got out of work, but stranded in town is SOOOOO much better than stranded at mom's), didn't bring my laptop. Holy wow that sucked. But I did get to watch some awesome tattoos being done, saw some amazing artwork, and got to hang out with the crew at the shop. I used to spend whole days there over the summer, so I really missed being there.
Thursday was yet another snow day for Little H. And his mom's house is impossible to get to without 4wheel drive and a winch. So I decided that I'd just wait and pick him up from school on Friday. His mom threw a fit. Apparently she likes getting rid of her kids whenever possible and demanded that I drive out there and get him. It's over an hour from my mom's house, the last 4 miles of roads are NEVER plowed, and she lives on a hill with huge pits at the end of her driveway that suck in cars and seriously upset the super-winch on the tow truck getting the car out. NO WAY. More bitching from her, but she eventually gave in when the only option was for her to meet me in her town- she has no car so she couldn't do it at the time the court order says the exchange is supposed to be. Another snow day on Monday, more whining from her. I ended up dropping off Little H with R's grandma for a little while until the mom's boyfriend got out of work to pick him up. At this rate, the kid won't get out of school in the summer until July. They've had 5 snow days during R's days, plus another 4 that I can think of, and probably more than that. They get 3 free (as in, they expect at least 3 snow days so they start the school year with 3 more days than required, so they can pretend they're not making up as many actual days), but they've gone way beyond that already. And we aren't done with the storms yet, so there is a possibility of 2-4 more snow days before winter is over. Then they have the possibility of cancellations due to fog. Yep, he'll be in school till July.
My mom is up visiting right now. She brought her 3 1/2 month old puppy. I have pictures- on the desktop- I will try to be less lazy and post some soon. Tiffany took 2 days to tolerate him, but now she'll wrestle and everything. Argos liked him well enough from the start, but does no real playing even now. But they are so cute together, all 3 of them. Yes, I promise pictures this week, I can't help but share the adorableness of it all.
*note about my last post- I have learned to never leave home without my Valium. It was prescribed to help me sleep (an not have wacky-vivid dreams that prevented relaxation), but I know all it's uses and know it would help me if I were to ever have another panic attack. It takes up a lot of valuable space in my purse- only one type of tattoo ointment fits now- but just knowing it is there is actually very helpful. Yay drugs.*
I never did blog about my friend's baby a couple weeks ago. There was a lot of drama in K's relationship with J way back when. They did the on-off thing, although in the year before they got married it was extreme. On=pregnant, off=m/c. Seriously. They got married during pgcy #3, which resulted in a beautiful little girl (they oh-so-deserved a perfect baby after what they'd been through, even though I wasn't sure I liked him marrying her). For the record- K is a guy, my best friend, I know I've blogged about him before, in my 100 things. Anyway, their little girl is 2 1/2-ish. New baby just came out a couple weeks ago, they induced at 37 weeks because J was in so much pain and had been on bedrest since 16, strict bedrest since 22wks. I don't know all the details from early on, because they nearly divorced over this baby. My dearest K is not the daddy and he knew it from the beginning. They have resolved all baby-daddy issues and are happy now. I'm still slightly conflicted. Although hearing the wonder in K's voice when he talks about his new son, it melts me. As long as K is happy, so am I.
Last week I disappeared on Tuesday. Snow was forecast for Wednesday and Thursday, the two options for when I could go downstate to get Little H (I pick him up on Thurs, but sometimes go down a night early and hang out with Uncle Tattoo and such). So, R rushed me into packing my stuff and we took off. You see, the truck has a seemingly exploded brake line, so my car is our only vehicle. And he needed it for work for the week, so he dropped me in town with Uncle Tattoo and made arrangements for me to use my mom's car to pick up Little H from school. 2 days before I could pick up Little H, stranded in town with no car (I could have gotten a ride to my mom's house when my dad got out of work, but stranded in town is SOOOOO much better than stranded at mom's), didn't bring my laptop. Holy wow that sucked. But I did get to watch some awesome tattoos being done, saw some amazing artwork, and got to hang out with the crew at the shop. I used to spend whole days there over the summer, so I really missed being there.
Thursday was yet another snow day for Little H. And his mom's house is impossible to get to without 4wheel drive and a winch. So I decided that I'd just wait and pick him up from school on Friday. His mom threw a fit. Apparently she likes getting rid of her kids whenever possible and demanded that I drive out there and get him. It's over an hour from my mom's house, the last 4 miles of roads are NEVER plowed, and she lives on a hill with huge pits at the end of her driveway that suck in cars and seriously upset the super-winch on the tow truck getting the car out. NO WAY. More bitching from her, but she eventually gave in when the only option was for her to meet me in her town- she has no car so she couldn't do it at the time the court order says the exchange is supposed to be. Another snow day on Monday, more whining from her. I ended up dropping off Little H with R's grandma for a little while until the mom's boyfriend got out of work to pick him up. At this rate, the kid won't get out of school in the summer until July. They've had 5 snow days during R's days, plus another 4 that I can think of, and probably more than that. They get 3 free (as in, they expect at least 3 snow days so they start the school year with 3 more days than required, so they can pretend they're not making up as many actual days), but they've gone way beyond that already. And we aren't done with the storms yet, so there is a possibility of 2-4 more snow days before winter is over. Then they have the possibility of cancellations due to fog. Yep, he'll be in school till July.
My mom is up visiting right now. She brought her 3 1/2 month old puppy. I have pictures- on the desktop- I will try to be less lazy and post some soon. Tiffany took 2 days to tolerate him, but now she'll wrestle and everything. Argos liked him well enough from the start, but does no real playing even now. But they are so cute together, all 3 of them. Yes, I promise pictures this week, I can't help but share the adorableness of it all.
*note about my last post- I have learned to never leave home without my Valium. It was prescribed to help me sleep (an not have wacky-vivid dreams that prevented relaxation), but I know all it's uses and know it would help me if I were to ever have another panic attack. It takes up a lot of valuable space in my purse- only one type of tattoo ointment fits now- but just knowing it is there is actually very helpful. Yay drugs.*
29 January 2008
Heart? Where did you go??? (edit at the end)
Have any of you had a panic attack before? I've heard them described, but never truly understood until yesterday. Remember that whole going in the ditch thing around Christmas? It's actually in the post below this. I didn't say much about it, just that it rained and the car went in the median and we needed a tow. I briefly mentioned that a slightly further distance sliding could have ended up with the car flipping, but the whole paragraph is written in an amusing sort of way. Yesterday I realized that it wasn't so amusing.
It was raining, slightly. Late afternoon, the sun was hiding behind clouds and preparing to set. Whatever, I've driven in blizzards before, it had been warm all day so I knew there was no ice on the roads. Hmmm, I'm going 65 when the speed limit is 70? That's fine, a bit of caution never hurt anybody. OK, some more caution and I'll slow down to 60 (and get passed by a driver's ed car). Ummmm, the water looks deeper, I don't like going 60. 55 is a good speed, I like 55. But the water's even deeper, at least 6 inches of water on the road and it gets deeper every time my wipers go across the window. Every time I blink I feel the car floating on top of the water, so I have to force my eyes to stay open so the car will stay on the road. Please, God, help me. I start singing songs from my college bible study group, they have calmed me through so many rough drives. My voice is so quiet and shaky that even I can't tell if I'm saying a word. Oh no, the water is at least a foot deep, I can't see the road anymore, just a flood of water.
Oh, please, where is that rest area, I know it's at mile marker 174, how far is that from here? 11 miles. I can stop there and take off my coat and relax for a minute, then I'll be fine. 8 miles, if only there was somewhere else to stop sooner. 7 miles, I need the rest area, I have to get out of the car. 4 miles, ok I'm almost there, I can do this. 3 miles, I can't do this, please, God, direct my car and keep me safe, I can't do it alone. 2 miles, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 1 mile, my hands are shaking, I can't let go of the steering wheel or even slide them to a different position. The offramp, 100 more yards to the parking area. The very first parking space. Call R, stop breathing, cry in panic.
By the time I got out of the car (and ran away from it), my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it. Except my heart was nowhere inside my body, I couldn't feel it anywhere. My throat was closed, but I was breathing so hard I felt like my lungs would explode. Nowhere felt safe, I could still smell the rain, hear it when the door opened, feel it where it had attacked me and wet my hair as I ran inside. I could see my car through the window, the vehicle that would surely float down the river that used to be a road and crash into everything in sight.
It took R, my mom, my brother CML, and my aunt (who just happens to be a nurse) to calm me down over the phone. And that took 45 minutes, plus a couple backslides when the rain picked up and I could hear it hit the skylights. It was 30 minutes after that before my brother got there to pick me up (he was an hour away, and it took 15 minutes to coordinate the pick-up), including a couple more calls to mom or R or my aunt when something else caused me to panic again. It felt like the entire world was conspiring to make me as scared as possible, and it was succeeding.
I stayed with uncle Tattoo last night (his house was the closest one to get to and even in the back seat, rocking, with my eyes closed I couldn't handle being in a car any longer than absolutely necessary). We rented a couple movies. He mocked me for being scared of the rain but wanting a shower to help me relax (yes, I do see the irony there, but they are totally different in my head, and that's all that matters). Yeah, we're at the point where we can make fun of me with words. My brother thinking he's being funny and squiggling the steering wheel? Not ready for that yet. He realized his mistake on that one and begged me not to shoot him in the head once the car stopped. I obliged, but I've made the mental note that I get one free super-bitchy moment to make up for him scaring me.
Why didn't R come get me, since I was pretty much halfway? That would be because the brake line in his truck blew over the weekend. I don't have the exact details, such as hole vs. broke in half, but I do know it's broken and the truck does not stop. So, he couldn't come. He called both sets of neighbors and neither was home.
I did drive home today, in the mist/sprinkling rain. But it was daylight and I wasn't hallucinating lakes in the road. R asked me to pick him up from work, since he had to get a ride in today due to the brakes on the truck. I can't do it. I got here from the rest area, but only because I had to. Stepping out of the car is the safest feeling I've ever had, I can't handle getting into it unless I have no choice. I don't have to drive again until next Thursday when I pick up Little H again. Pray for no rain for me.
*edit* Although I say that the water was a foot deep, it really wasn't. There wasn't even a layer on the road, just that the road was damp. But when you're freaking out, a little hallucinating is to be expected...
It was raining, slightly. Late afternoon, the sun was hiding behind clouds and preparing to set. Whatever, I've driven in blizzards before, it had been warm all day so I knew there was no ice on the roads. Hmmm, I'm going 65 when the speed limit is 70? That's fine, a bit of caution never hurt anybody. OK, some more caution and I'll slow down to 60 (and get passed by a driver's ed car). Ummmm, the water looks deeper, I don't like going 60. 55 is a good speed, I like 55. But the water's even deeper, at least 6 inches of water on the road and it gets deeper every time my wipers go across the window. Every time I blink I feel the car floating on top of the water, so I have to force my eyes to stay open so the car will stay on the road. Please, God, help me. I start singing songs from my college bible study group, they have calmed me through so many rough drives. My voice is so quiet and shaky that even I can't tell if I'm saying a word. Oh no, the water is at least a foot deep, I can't see the road anymore, just a flood of water.
Oh, please, where is that rest area, I know it's at mile marker 174, how far is that from here? 11 miles. I can stop there and take off my coat and relax for a minute, then I'll be fine. 8 miles, if only there was somewhere else to stop sooner. 7 miles, I need the rest area, I have to get out of the car. 4 miles, ok I'm almost there, I can do this. 3 miles, I can't do this, please, God, direct my car and keep me safe, I can't do it alone. 2 miles, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 1 mile, my hands are shaking, I can't let go of the steering wheel or even slide them to a different position. The offramp, 100 more yards to the parking area. The very first parking space. Call R, stop breathing, cry in panic.
By the time I got out of the car (and ran away from it), my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it. Except my heart was nowhere inside my body, I couldn't feel it anywhere. My throat was closed, but I was breathing so hard I felt like my lungs would explode. Nowhere felt safe, I could still smell the rain, hear it when the door opened, feel it where it had attacked me and wet my hair as I ran inside. I could see my car through the window, the vehicle that would surely float down the river that used to be a road and crash into everything in sight.
It took R, my mom, my brother CML, and my aunt (who just happens to be a nurse) to calm me down over the phone. And that took 45 minutes, plus a couple backslides when the rain picked up and I could hear it hit the skylights. It was 30 minutes after that before my brother got there to pick me up (he was an hour away, and it took 15 minutes to coordinate the pick-up), including a couple more calls to mom or R or my aunt when something else caused me to panic again. It felt like the entire world was conspiring to make me as scared as possible, and it was succeeding.
I stayed with uncle Tattoo last night (his house was the closest one to get to and even in the back seat, rocking, with my eyes closed I couldn't handle being in a car any longer than absolutely necessary). We rented a couple movies. He mocked me for being scared of the rain but wanting a shower to help me relax (yes, I do see the irony there, but they are totally different in my head, and that's all that matters). Yeah, we're at the point where we can make fun of me with words. My brother thinking he's being funny and squiggling the steering wheel? Not ready for that yet. He realized his mistake on that one and begged me not to shoot him in the head once the car stopped. I obliged, but I've made the mental note that I get one free super-bitchy moment to make up for him scaring me.
Why didn't R come get me, since I was pretty much halfway? That would be because the brake line in his truck blew over the weekend. I don't have the exact details, such as hole vs. broke in half, but I do know it's broken and the truck does not stop. So, he couldn't come. He called both sets of neighbors and neither was home.
I did drive home today, in the mist/sprinkling rain. But it was daylight and I wasn't hallucinating lakes in the road. R asked me to pick him up from work, since he had to get a ride in today due to the brakes on the truck. I can't do it. I got here from the rest area, but only because I had to. Stepping out of the car is the safest feeling I've ever had, I can't handle getting into it unless I have no choice. I don't have to drive again until next Thursday when I pick up Little H again. Pray for no rain for me.
*edit* Although I say that the water was a foot deep, it really wasn't. There wasn't even a layer on the road, just that the road was damp. But when you're freaking out, a little hallucinating is to be expected...
06 January 2008
Too Long (kid mentioned)
It has been so long since I've blogged. I let it slide because I was preparing for our vacation to Louisiana. Then I was gone for 6 days. Then my excuse was that we were recovering from the long drive. Then we had to unpack and re-organize Little H's room to fit the new toys. Then I had a sudden undeniable need to move the furniture in our bedroom. And then I just became too lazy. I really like lazy, but it's time for me to snap out of it.
The trip down wasn't bad, although there were a few bumps in the road (Little H's mom freaking out in the middle of the school and sobbing that she can't survive without him for 6 days- hey, bitch, don't ruin the kid's vacation, and what about those times when he was 4 months old and 9 months old and a dozen times when he was 1-4 years old when you'd drop him off for 2-6 weeks straight and not bat an eye?... Oh, and we drove 1300 miles without stopping except for food and gas... And Little H was woderfully blessed with a thankfully minor case of some stomach bug and threw up in a McDonald's bathroom in Mississippi). Everybody loved everybody, we had a great vacation. Little H rode horses, I finally got to bond with my mother-in-law, there was no snow. Boatload of presents which barely fit in the car to come home, snuggle time at the Christmas Eve bonfire Mama built, roasting marshmallows and falling in love with that entire side of R's family. It was just about perfect.
I cried when we left, I needed more time. I needed weeks with Mama, I needed a few relaxing days in the South without holiday plans and trying to make up for sleep lost on the drive. The South agreed with me, it didn't want us to leave either. So, the South rained. It rained until the roads became rivers. It rained until an especially deep road-river wiggled us around. It rained until a second road-river 10 yards further up the road kept us wiggling and wouldn't let us recover to steer straight. It rained until we were sliding through the median. It rained just enough so that the car dug into the mushy Mississippi ground and stopped before hitting a culvert that would have guaranteed to have flipped the car. It rained while Little H awoke from his nap with a start and asked what state we were in and why we were stopped. It rained while we waited 2 hours for the damn tow truck (because we had to go through our insurance company to find a tow company that they contracted through to have it covered). It rained while sensors were covered in mud and caused the heater to blow cold air. It rained while over 2 dozen cars stopped to make sure we were ok and regretfully mention that they'd left their tow straps at home (when I say cars, I mean huge pickup trucks with beefy men or adorably tiny women driving them).
OK, you get it, there was a lot of rain. Eventually we got pulled out and rinsed off and the car was running fine. There's some Mississippi mud stuck inside the rear driver's side wheel well, but everybody loves souvenirs. A small question about whether the exhaust was fine, but the car wasn't any louder than before, so it must be fine. At exactly the Missouri state line, that questionable exhaust broke in two. Several stops and a duct tape and Red Bull can fix job later, the car was made right again. Which only last 56 miles. Back to the noise. In the middle of the night, while Little H was sleeping. He didn't notices a thing until after breakfast the next morning when he mentioned that the car farts really loud now. Just what I need with 200 miles left to go, fart jokes.
Anyway, the gifts are put away, most of the travel gear is out of the car, and I've caught up on most of the missing sleep. And the bedroom furniture is all rearranged, making one large open area instead of two long-ish skinny open areas. It required R and I to switch sides of the bed, he nearly jumped on top of me when his alarm went off for the first time. It will take some getting used to, but R hasn't gotten used to me being on the wrong side yet, so he doesn't steal all the blankets from me. That will change, but I'm liking the brief amount of time where he tugs blankets from the floor and not my side.
Which brings us to now. I have been really sucking in the "me" time. After weeks of listening to R whine about our nonexistent sex life and catering to every other aspect of the house, I have decided that his penis doesn't matter and I'm taking care of what I need. Yeah, I let my XH come over one day for a couple hours (told R about it way ahead of time), but what about every other weekend when I am forced to see his ex when I pick up or drop off Little H? What makes him so loving and patient and giving (his claim was that he's so much of all those things that he's earned some sort of "reward")? He met my XH once! "But I never married Little H's mom..." (so somehow what I've done in past relationships is worse than him, so he has a right to be resentful that XH was coming over) Nope, you didn't. But me marrying XH meant that once the divorce was final it is 100% MY decision if I ever see him again. You knocked up Little H's mom, which means that we have to see her every time anything special happens in Little H's life, and every other weekend. Wait, not US, since R is working during scheduled drop-off and pick-up times, so it's ME that has to see her constantly. So, who is loving and patient and giving? One 90 minute meeting, then nothing for the rest of your life? -or- EVERY time one of us wants to see Little H for the next 12 years (assuming that he lives with her until he's 18) PLUS every significant event for the rest of his life- graduation, moving away for college, wedding, babies, etc?
So, R, your penis can shrivel up and fall off for all I care. Even now, I'm still giving and not getting much in return except bitching about when I'm going to want to have sex. The answer- NEVER! Quit assuming that you rubbing my feet after I spend all day cleaning the house (and getting ready for YOUR son's visit) is ever going to guarantee you sex. Yes, you do more than you did before the separation, but it's still not more than what I do and therefore does not demand sexual reciprocation. Maybe that's why I still refuse to put out, because you act like the things you do are only to get sex. Rub my back because you want to, help with the laundry because 75% of it is yours, quit riling up the dogs 15 seconds before you walk out the door and expecting them to behave after that (it's not them being hyper that pisses me off, you fucking moron, it's the fact that they were calm and sleeping until you started wrestling for less than a minute and left them hyper when I had told you to leave them alone because I knew you were on your way out the door).
And, yes, I do get to sleep until 8:30 every morning, but that's not sleeping in for me. So on weekends when you whimper about me wanting to go to bed at our normal time and force me to stay awake until 1am, telling me that I "always get to sleep in" so it's your turn, is total BS. Keeping me up 2-3 extra hours is stealing my sleep and making me feel like weekends are twice as much work for me as weekdays. No wonder Monday is my favorite day of the week, it's the beginning of my weekend and getting to sleep normally again. And 3pm is not sleeping in, it's sloth! Go to bed earlier during the week, you're the one keeping me up and then complaining that you're exhausted every day. And when I turn you down for sex (because you waited until we had been in bed talking for 20 minutes- when I was already exhausted- then trying to fall asleep for 10 minutes... if I'm nearly unconscious, I'm NOT HORNY), don't get pissy and get out of bed for 2 hours, just jerk off in the bathroom quick and go to sleep. No wonder you're worthless on weekends.
OK, I have to stop bitching. Besides, I have a house to clean and R is too busy building websites to be any help at all...
The trip down wasn't bad, although there were a few bumps in the road (Little H's mom freaking out in the middle of the school and sobbing that she can't survive without him for 6 days- hey, bitch, don't ruin the kid's vacation, and what about those times when he was 4 months old and 9 months old and a dozen times when he was 1-4 years old when you'd drop him off for 2-6 weeks straight and not bat an eye?... Oh, and we drove 1300 miles without stopping except for food and gas... And Little H was woderfully blessed with a thankfully minor case of some stomach bug and threw up in a McDonald's bathroom in Mississippi). Everybody loved everybody, we had a great vacation. Little H rode horses, I finally got to bond with my mother-in-law, there was no snow. Boatload of presents which barely fit in the car to come home, snuggle time at the Christmas Eve bonfire Mama built, roasting marshmallows and falling in love with that entire side of R's family. It was just about perfect.
I cried when we left, I needed more time. I needed weeks with Mama, I needed a few relaxing days in the South without holiday plans and trying to make up for sleep lost on the drive. The South agreed with me, it didn't want us to leave either. So, the South rained. It rained until the roads became rivers. It rained until an especially deep road-river wiggled us around. It rained until a second road-river 10 yards further up the road kept us wiggling and wouldn't let us recover to steer straight. It rained until we were sliding through the median. It rained just enough so that the car dug into the mushy Mississippi ground and stopped before hitting a culvert that would have guaranteed to have flipped the car. It rained while Little H awoke from his nap with a start and asked what state we were in and why we were stopped. It rained while we waited 2 hours for the damn tow truck (because we had to go through our insurance company to find a tow company that they contracted through to have it covered). It rained while sensors were covered in mud and caused the heater to blow cold air. It rained while over 2 dozen cars stopped to make sure we were ok and regretfully mention that they'd left their tow straps at home (when I say cars, I mean huge pickup trucks with beefy men or adorably tiny women driving them).
OK, you get it, there was a lot of rain. Eventually we got pulled out and rinsed off and the car was running fine. There's some Mississippi mud stuck inside the rear driver's side wheel well, but everybody loves souvenirs. A small question about whether the exhaust was fine, but the car wasn't any louder than before, so it must be fine. At exactly the Missouri state line, that questionable exhaust broke in two. Several stops and a duct tape and Red Bull can fix job later, the car was made right again. Which only last 56 miles. Back to the noise. In the middle of the night, while Little H was sleeping. He didn't notices a thing until after breakfast the next morning when he mentioned that the car farts really loud now. Just what I need with 200 miles left to go, fart jokes.
Anyway, the gifts are put away, most of the travel gear is out of the car, and I've caught up on most of the missing sleep. And the bedroom furniture is all rearranged, making one large open area instead of two long-ish skinny open areas. It required R and I to switch sides of the bed, he nearly jumped on top of me when his alarm went off for the first time. It will take some getting used to, but R hasn't gotten used to me being on the wrong side yet, so he doesn't steal all the blankets from me. That will change, but I'm liking the brief amount of time where he tugs blankets from the floor and not my side.
Which brings us to now. I have been really sucking in the "me" time. After weeks of listening to R whine about our nonexistent sex life and catering to every other aspect of the house, I have decided that his penis doesn't matter and I'm taking care of what I need. Yeah, I let my XH come over one day for a couple hours (told R about it way ahead of time), but what about every other weekend when I am forced to see his ex when I pick up or drop off Little H? What makes him so loving and patient and giving (his claim was that he's so much of all those things that he's earned some sort of "reward")? He met my XH once! "But I never married Little H's mom..." (so somehow what I've done in past relationships is worse than him, so he has a right to be resentful that XH was coming over) Nope, you didn't. But me marrying XH meant that once the divorce was final it is 100% MY decision if I ever see him again. You knocked up Little H's mom, which means that we have to see her every time anything special happens in Little H's life, and every other weekend. Wait, not US, since R is working during scheduled drop-off and pick-up times, so it's ME that has to see her constantly. So, who is loving and patient and giving? One 90 minute meeting, then nothing for the rest of your life? -or- EVERY time one of us wants to see Little H for the next 12 years (assuming that he lives with her until he's 18) PLUS every significant event for the rest of his life- graduation, moving away for college, wedding, babies, etc?
So, R, your penis can shrivel up and fall off for all I care. Even now, I'm still giving and not getting much in return except bitching about when I'm going to want to have sex. The answer- NEVER! Quit assuming that you rubbing my feet after I spend all day cleaning the house (and getting ready for YOUR son's visit) is ever going to guarantee you sex. Yes, you do more than you did before the separation, but it's still not more than what I do and therefore does not demand sexual reciprocation. Maybe that's why I still refuse to put out, because you act like the things you do are only to get sex. Rub my back because you want to, help with the laundry because 75% of it is yours, quit riling up the dogs 15 seconds before you walk out the door and expecting them to behave after that (it's not them being hyper that pisses me off, you fucking moron, it's the fact that they were calm and sleeping until you started wrestling for less than a minute and left them hyper when I had told you to leave them alone because I knew you were on your way out the door).
And, yes, I do get to sleep until 8:30 every morning, but that's not sleeping in for me. So on weekends when you whimper about me wanting to go to bed at our normal time and force me to stay awake until 1am, telling me that I "always get to sleep in" so it's your turn, is total BS. Keeping me up 2-3 extra hours is stealing my sleep and making me feel like weekends are twice as much work for me as weekdays. No wonder Monday is my favorite day of the week, it's the beginning of my weekend and getting to sleep normally again. And 3pm is not sleeping in, it's sloth! Go to bed earlier during the week, you're the one keeping me up and then complaining that you're exhausted every day. And when I turn you down for sex (because you waited until we had been in bed talking for 20 minutes- when I was already exhausted- then trying to fall asleep for 10 minutes... if I'm nearly unconscious, I'm NOT HORNY), don't get pissy and get out of bed for 2 hours, just jerk off in the bathroom quick and go to sleep. No wonder you're worthless on weekends.
OK, I have to stop bitching. Besides, I have a house to clean and R is too busy building websites to be any help at all...
17 December 2007
I think I have enough time... (kids mentioned)
This is probably my last chance to blog before we leave for Louisianna for the holidays, so here I go. Very quickly, though, because R is in the ceiling right now.
The ornaments were a hit at school. The kids had so much fun. I think "THE" popular girl in the class has a little crush on Little H. And I mean "THE" girl- blonde hair, blue eyes, competes in figure skating, great reader (hey, it's 1st grade, that is a big deal), the works. She blinks her long, perfectly curved lashes just a little bit more when he's around. And she kept talking to him and me, but not clingy like a couple of the girls. Of course, she'll turn into a bitch around middle school and barely look at him because her parents have money and his mom doesn't, but for now I think she likes him.
The puppies are growing so fast. The camera's still out in the car, but I got some great pics so I will try very hard to post again before we leave. They're almost standing on their feet now instead of scooting across the floor. And they go potty on their own (quite gross, actually, but a stage in growing up so it's like an accomplishment), they lick Mama's food sometimes (they love the yogurt that my mom mixes in to help Mama Dog get more calcium and have less gas), and you can see little nubbies in their mouths where teeth will soon come in.
Sorry I don't have time for more, R has now found the leak (he got dripped on last night, out of nowhere). The next couple days will be spent trying to figure out what to do there until Spring (when we will likely have to re-roof the house). Any free time will be spent cleaning, packing, cleaning, packing, and going over my list repeatedly to make sure nothing was forgotten. Would you all mind emailing me every once in a while reminding me to eat? That's not written on my schedule so I'll probably forget. Thanks!
If I don't get a chance before then: Merry Christmas (and Joyful Celebration of whatever holiday(s) you choose to recognize, I only specified Christmas because that is my belief/holiday of choice, I am open and loving of all holidays and times of togetherness and cheer)! And Happy New Year (I should be home by then, but just in case)!
Oh, and a tiny tidbit of ponderful information- I took a "what's the best religion for you" test thing, and it said that I'm 94% in agreement with the Jewish faith. I'm not immensely dedicated to Christianity, there is much I disagree with (I'm pro-choice and I love gay people, just to name a couple arguements). Maybe I should research this some more. I could so light candles and rid my house of flour products once a year, and all that other stuff Mel does. And love every part of my chosen faith, not just "some of the big stuff." I'm not even that dedicated to Christmas, except for the emphasis on family and togetherness, and Judaism has days emphasizing family and togetherness, so I think I could convert well. Yeah, very much wanting to research more. I'll keep you all updated. (R doesn't dig the conversion idea, that may put a damper in my plans. But at least I'll know that my beliefs do fit somewhere, I'm not the worst Christian ever, I just think like a Jew... can I joke like that? is it offensive? because I see it as Jews being way more accepting and Christians being way too judgemental, so thinking like a Jew is a good thing in my experience. I'll shut up now.)
The ornaments were a hit at school. The kids had so much fun. I think "THE" popular girl in the class has a little crush on Little H. And I mean "THE" girl- blonde hair, blue eyes, competes in figure skating, great reader (hey, it's 1st grade, that is a big deal), the works. She blinks her long, perfectly curved lashes just a little bit more when he's around. And she kept talking to him and me, but not clingy like a couple of the girls. Of course, she'll turn into a bitch around middle school and barely look at him because her parents have money and his mom doesn't, but for now I think she likes him.
The puppies are growing so fast. The camera's still out in the car, but I got some great pics so I will try very hard to post again before we leave. They're almost standing on their feet now instead of scooting across the floor. And they go potty on their own (quite gross, actually, but a stage in growing up so it's like an accomplishment), they lick Mama's food sometimes (they love the yogurt that my mom mixes in to help Mama Dog get more calcium and have less gas), and you can see little nubbies in their mouths where teeth will soon come in.
Sorry I don't have time for more, R has now found the leak (he got dripped on last night, out of nowhere). The next couple days will be spent trying to figure out what to do there until Spring (when we will likely have to re-roof the house). Any free time will be spent cleaning, packing, cleaning, packing, and going over my list repeatedly to make sure nothing was forgotten. Would you all mind emailing me every once in a while reminding me to eat? That's not written on my schedule so I'll probably forget. Thanks!
If I don't get a chance before then: Merry Christmas (and Joyful Celebration of whatever holiday(s) you choose to recognize, I only specified Christmas because that is my belief/holiday of choice, I am open and loving of all holidays and times of togetherness and cheer)! And Happy New Year (I should be home by then, but just in case)!
Oh, and a tiny tidbit of ponderful information- I took a "what's the best religion for you" test thing, and it said that I'm 94% in agreement with the Jewish faith. I'm not immensely dedicated to Christianity, there is much I disagree with (I'm pro-choice and I love gay people, just to name a couple arguements). Maybe I should research this some more. I could so light candles and rid my house of flour products once a year, and all that other stuff Mel does. And love every part of my chosen faith, not just "some of the big stuff." I'm not even that dedicated to Christmas, except for the emphasis on family and togetherness, and Judaism has days emphasizing family and togetherness, so I think I could convert well. Yeah, very much wanting to research more. I'll keep you all updated. (R doesn't dig the conversion idea, that may put a damper in my plans. But at least I'll know that my beliefs do fit somewhere, I'm not the worst Christian ever, I just think like a Jew... can I joke like that? is it offensive? because I see it as Jews being way more accepting and Christians being way too judgemental, so thinking like a Jew is a good thing in my experience. I'll shut up now.)
09 December 2007
Festively... decorative
Half the ornaments are done (the round ones, they're so much easier). The other half are hopefully getting cut by the awesome machine at the copy shop tomorrow afternoon. Which means tomorrow evening and all day Tuesday are scheduled for folding and gluing (every second, because it took 2 full days to fold and glue the easy ones).
And now, the pics. Hello? Crafty McCrafty? You here to see them? You requested. And I'm doing pretty good at that pictures in every post thing so far... I'll be lazy later, right now I want to show off.Please ignore the extensive dirtiness of my floor, the grout never got sealed (that is the least of my complaints about the shitty contractor the guy we bought the house from hired) and one little grain of sand can make the whole floor look black. Instead, focus on the gigantic pile of ornaments that R and I made. And the measly 4 pointy ones, which means we have 56 left to do.
07 December 2007
Festively Barely Dressed
Last night was it, T-day, the time to finally get a picture of my tattoo (stage 3 of ?). Took a shower, shaved my legs carefully, applied lotion (and leg make-up to hide the fact that my tan is beyond faded away and there are stretch marks on my butt- way to be a late bloomer, Roy). Cute little skirt, lacy boy-short panties because I had to lift my skirt a little to expose all of it, sexy black heels. It's a picture of my leg, no need to put on a shirt, right?
R took a little creative license with the photography. Cut out the shoe once, trying to get a good angle and catch me not covering my boob. Hello, the shoes are important, I love those shoes! Anyway, I guess I should post the evidence now. And a reminder from when I first got it done- NEVER TATTOO YOUR ASS! I'm hoping for stage 4 next Wednesday, although I'm not looking forward to it because I'm really not excited for the pain. What we do for beauty (or what we consider beauty, because I'm sure there are some out there that don't think my tattoo is anywhere near beautiful, but I'm in love with it)...
06 December 2007
Volunteering to be crafty- why it's the stupidest idea ever! (kids mentioned)
Little H is adorable. He's in first grade. By default of age and size, pretty much his entire class is adorable. As well as the other first grade class in his school, located in the classroom across the hall. The things they do are adorable. The things they say are adorable. The cheap crap they make at school is adorable. And now, storytime:
So...... one day a gorgeous, intelligent, lovable stepmother was making paper Christmas ornaments. Her mom and aunt had gotten a book of them at some craft store for her birthday in August, knowing that she would love it (and that it would take her those entire 4 months in between to actually get them done, because her craftiness comes in very short spurts). Her adorable stepson wanted to help. That's a big N-O. After spending hours cutting them out, gluing them together, and adding glitter paint and beads and pieces of random jewelry that nobody wears anymore, there was no way she was going to let little 6 year old hands screw it up.
Instead, the fabulous, genius that she was offered to come into his classroom for an entire day and decorate some (made of construction paper) with all of his classmates. The stepson with the pinchable cheeks consented to that idea. The caring, stunning, amazing stepmother made the same proposition to the teacher. The teacher beamed with delight.
Two weeks later, the alluring, radiant, astute stepmother and the teacher met to look at the template, decide how many, and set a date. The teacher asked if both classrooms could do it. The giving, naive stepmother happily agreed (the teacher had made it a point to rave about the gullible stepmother to the other first grade teacher right in front of her, so the moronic stepmother was in an all-to-ambitious mood).
Now the doltish, witless stepmother is attempting this impossible feat. She has managed to print the template onto the construction paper, but the remainder of the project seems insurmountable. Cutting out 6 designs per ornament, folding them, gluing them, starting all over again for the next one. 120 ornaments, that's 720 pieces. Sure, half of them are circles (which are easier to cut, but harder to fold), but the other half resemble squares with spades attached to each side. A mere 40 pieces have been cut, which has rendered the scissors dull and the haggard stepmother's hands cramped.
Only one week left to finish them all. They go to the teacher on Thursday to be punched and string added to hang them with. The stepmother is driving downstate on Wednesday to do some necessary picture-taking for the tattoo-shop website (and some sitting around, because the crew there is awesome and fun). So, really only 5 days to complete the project. The stepmother has begun wondering if there is anything short of the flu that will get her out of this. But she knows that even if she was near-death with the flu she would feel guilty about messing up the teacher's craft time plans and never forgive herself for it (this stepmother is very good at causing/pointing out guilt, so much so that she overwhelms herself in her own). So, the cramped hands take a short break and then return to their arduous task.
Those adorable children better be excited, lest the fatigued stepmother have a mental break down and be unable to maintain her cheerful facade in their presence.
Seriously, I'll fucking scream and rip the ornaments to shreds if those little brats don't enjoy my hard work. Those were my favorite scissors, damn it, and now they don't cut anything. Off to buy at least 2 more pairs of scissors, hopefully they will make it through.
So...... one day a gorgeous, intelligent, lovable stepmother was making paper Christmas ornaments. Her mom and aunt had gotten a book of them at some craft store for her birthday in August, knowing that she would love it (and that it would take her those entire 4 months in between to actually get them done, because her craftiness comes in very short spurts). Her adorable stepson wanted to help. That's a big N-O. After spending hours cutting them out, gluing them together, and adding glitter paint and beads and pieces of random jewelry that nobody wears anymore, there was no way she was going to let little 6 year old hands screw it up.
Instead, the fabulous, genius that she was offered to come into his classroom for an entire day and decorate some (made of construction paper) with all of his classmates. The stepson with the pinchable cheeks consented to that idea. The caring, stunning, amazing stepmother made the same proposition to the teacher. The teacher beamed with delight.
Two weeks later, the alluring, radiant, astute stepmother and the teacher met to look at the template, decide how many, and set a date. The teacher asked if both classrooms could do it. The giving, naive stepmother happily agreed (the teacher had made it a point to rave about the gullible stepmother to the other first grade teacher right in front of her, so the moronic stepmother was in an all-to-ambitious mood).
Now the doltish, witless stepmother is attempting this impossible feat. She has managed to print the template onto the construction paper, but the remainder of the project seems insurmountable. Cutting out 6 designs per ornament, folding them, gluing them, starting all over again for the next one. 120 ornaments, that's 720 pieces. Sure, half of them are circles (which are easier to cut, but harder to fold), but the other half resemble squares with spades attached to each side. A mere 40 pieces have been cut, which has rendered the scissors dull and the haggard stepmother's hands cramped.
Only one week left to finish them all. They go to the teacher on Thursday to be punched and string added to hang them with. The stepmother is driving downstate on Wednesday to do some necessary picture-taking for the tattoo-shop website (and some sitting around, because the crew there is awesome and fun). So, really only 5 days to complete the project. The stepmother has begun wondering if there is anything short of the flu that will get her out of this. But she knows that even if she was near-death with the flu she would feel guilty about messing up the teacher's craft time plans and never forgive herself for it (this stepmother is very good at causing/pointing out guilt, so much so that she overwhelms herself in her own). So, the cramped hands take a short break and then return to their arduous task.
Those adorable children better be excited, lest the fatigued stepmother have a mental break down and be unable to maintain her cheerful facade in their presence.
Seriously, I'll fucking scream and rip the ornaments to shreds if those little brats don't enjoy my hard work. Those were my favorite scissors, damn it, and now they don't cut anything. Off to buy at least 2 more pairs of scissors, hopefully they will make it through.
30 November 2007
Cuteness (in 3 day old puppy form)!!!
Ok, first off the babies. During the night, #10 appeared. We have not confiscated all of them again to try to figure out if that one was male or female, but it exists and that's all that matters. A few are staying quite runty, so I may or may not be bringing a couple puppies home with me after I take Little H back down to his mom's. If so, there will be plenty of pictures, hopefully chronicalling the transformation from pseudo-ugly to actually adorable (please, God, let them become adorable).Still no clue on who the daddy might be, poor bastard puppies.
PCOSMama asked, and I have yet to deny my readers anything they ask (other than that creepy anonymous one that wanted more nudie pics), so I will slightly expound on the sex I had Sunday night. R was incredibly nervous- it had been 8 months, and he wasn't very "generous" in the "giving me pleasure" department prior to that. He focused so much on trying hard that the mood pretty much died. And I tried so hard to "urge" myself towards involuntary muscle spasms of the ecstasy type that I just stalled right at the edge and nothing would get me over it. We tried a second time about 15 minutes later, but R getting his rocks off without me the first time made him twice as nervous the second and I stalled again. Hopefully we'll have a calm night between now and when we leave for his mom's house for the holidays (because she's forcing us to stay in the master bedroom and he refuses to have sex on her bed) and we can try again. It was quite late Sunday night when we attempted (and we had no idea an attempt would be made, it was rather spur-of-the-moment and there had been no hinting beforehand) and with Monday being our court date we were both extremely stressed. It will get better with practice, right?
Yeah, that's not the vicarious living you were hoping for, is it? I'm gonna end up with cranky comments over my sub-par sex life, I can see it now. I promise to vaguely disguise and share some hotter details once they occur.
Now I'm off to stencil, cut, and glue 120 paper ornaments for Little H's class to decorate on the 14th. I already very much regret volunteering, let's hope the day spent in his classroom is adorable enough to make up for the carpal tunnel I'll get from cutting for days on end.
27 November 2007
Not what I expected to do last night...
This weekend was so long. Quick note- court for Little H was yesterday. We didn't get custody, but we did get extended weekends (thursday thru monday) and way more time in the summer, and we get to take him to Louisianna for Christmas (which his mother was so incredibly pissed about, because we offered to give her all of Christmas next year so we could have it this year, and she refused. the judge gave us most of Christmas this year- including both Christmas eve and Christmas day- and not letting her have any extra time to make it up). Bitch should have worked with us in the first place.
Oh, and I had sex with R on Sunday night. For the first time in 8 months. For the first time since before the separation.
Now, all about last night. After court, we went back to my parents' house to pack up the car and get the dogs. Trunk packed. Last minute things found and crowding the front seat. Tiffany super excited. Leashes located. Tiffany in the back seat. R on his way to get Argos from the back yard. My dad's dog has something in her mouth. It's a newborn puppy. Hear screaming. There's another newborn puppy buried in the dirt. And a third abandoned in the dog house.
(disclaimer- that dog showed up as a stray, she did not get pg at my parents' house as the only male around there is a chihuahua and these puppies are huge, way bigger than I would have expected out of a beagle-sized dog, they did not know she was pg as she was VERY fat when she showed up and has actually slimmed down slightly towards a healthy size, she was beyond obese before, it was sick)
In comes the dog (the pup in her mouth was not alive, we have no idea when she had those three), we warmed up the two living pups, search more in her pen out back to see if there were more, sent R to the store for any type of formula he can find. She had 7 more inside. She'd mostly take care of one, but once she had a second pup with her, she got overwhelmed and didn't do anything. At one point, she had two she was taking care of and gave birth to a third, which she completely ignored. We had to take away them away, I had to actually remove that ignored pup from the sac, she hadn't done anything at all. It was a frantic few hours, with the first two nearly dead from cold, one still in a sac that I had to cut out and convince to breathe (I nearly had to breathe for him at first), feeding 9 newborns with the only formula and bottles we could get without a 90 minute round trip, starting the feeding schedule all over again by the time we had finished with the 9th pup, tying strings on everybody to help identify them, making lists of who was who and when they ate, taking them all into the bathroom to wipe them with a wet washcloth to get them to potty. Oh, and taking care of my own two dogs somehow in the mix.
Once the mama stopped laboring, we gave her some time to relax, then put the pups in with her to see if she would take care of them. Thankfully, she allowed them to nurse and she started licking them and it looked like she was going to do her thing. She is still nursing and taking care of them this morning. She has to be hidden inside her crate at all times, because any time she sees a cat or person moving around she freaks out. We are so glad she's doing good, because I really didn't want to take on 3-4 pups (my mom would have kept the rest, she has help down there and I'd be doing it alone up here). It takes 20 minutes to care for each pup, so I'd be working with them for an hour and really only get an hour or so break before I had to start it all up again. R very much values my sleep, he knows how vital it is for my happiness, so he's very glad we didn't end up with pups. We may end up having to take in one or two (because mama doesn't have enough nipples to feed everybody at once), but not having to raise an entire litter is such a relief.
Anybody want a puppy in 8 - 12 weeks? Mama is a beagle/german shepherd?/something else hairy mix. Not sure what daddy is, probably something kinda big, most of the pups look slightly rottweiler-ish. Eventually they will be cute, I swear. And until then, they smell like puppies, which is awesome.
Oh, and I had sex with R on Sunday night. For the first time in 8 months. For the first time since before the separation.
Now, all about last night. After court, we went back to my parents' house to pack up the car and get the dogs. Trunk packed. Last minute things found and crowding the front seat. Tiffany super excited. Leashes located. Tiffany in the back seat. R on his way to get Argos from the back yard. My dad's dog has something in her mouth. It's a newborn puppy. Hear screaming. There's another newborn puppy buried in the dirt. And a third abandoned in the dog house.
(disclaimer- that dog showed up as a stray, she did not get pg at my parents' house as the only male around there is a chihuahua and these puppies are huge, way bigger than I would have expected out of a beagle-sized dog, they did not know she was pg as she was VERY fat when she showed up and has actually slimmed down slightly towards a healthy size, she was beyond obese before, it was sick)
In comes the dog (the pup in her mouth was not alive, we have no idea when she had those three), we warmed up the two living pups, search more in her pen out back to see if there were more, sent R to the store for any type of formula he can find. She had 7 more inside. She'd mostly take care of one, but once she had a second pup with her, she got overwhelmed and didn't do anything. At one point, she had two she was taking care of and gave birth to a third, which she completely ignored. We had to take away them away, I had to actually remove that ignored pup from the sac, she hadn't done anything at all. It was a frantic few hours, with the first two nearly dead from cold, one still in a sac that I had to cut out and convince to breathe (I nearly had to breathe for him at first), feeding 9 newborns with the only formula and bottles we could get without a 90 minute round trip, starting the feeding schedule all over again by the time we had finished with the 9th pup, tying strings on everybody to help identify them, making lists of who was who and when they ate, taking them all into the bathroom to wipe them with a wet washcloth to get them to potty. Oh, and taking care of my own two dogs somehow in the mix.
Once the mama stopped laboring, we gave her some time to relax, then put the pups in with her to see if she would take care of them. Thankfully, she allowed them to nurse and she started licking them and it looked like she was going to do her thing. She is still nursing and taking care of them this morning. She has to be hidden inside her crate at all times, because any time she sees a cat or person moving around she freaks out. We are so glad she's doing good, because I really didn't want to take on 3-4 pups (my mom would have kept the rest, she has help down there and I'd be doing it alone up here). It takes 20 minutes to care for each pup, so I'd be working with them for an hour and really only get an hour or so break before I had to start it all up again. R very much values my sleep, he knows how vital it is for my happiness, so he's very glad we didn't end up with pups. We may end up having to take in one or two (because mama doesn't have enough nipples to feed everybody at once), but not having to raise an entire litter is such a relief.
Anybody want a puppy in 8 - 12 weeks? Mama is a beagle/german shepherd?/something else hairy mix. Not sure what daddy is, probably something kinda big, most of the pups look slightly rottweiler-ish. Eventually they will be cute, I swear. And until then, they smell like puppies, which is awesome.
09 November 2007
My 101 Things
In catching up on Beth's blog, I stumbled on her 101 things. And decided that I should try one too. I'm not sure how excited I am, because this will prove to all of you just how "off" I can be sometimes. What the hell, that didn't stop me from posting nude pictures, so it's not stopping me now.
1. I need to have an ending point, I need to see the end of the tunnel. Case in point- I typed in every number before starting, even though it caused me to forget several of the things I had already thought of.
2. I need to know that my effort is appreciated. This means I can do very little just for myself. While R has been gone, I rarely clean the house or do dishes, because I cannot appreciate my own hard work. I will scrub every nook and cranny right before he comes home, but until then I can't force myself to be proactive. I can't even enjoy cooking for myself, food just doesn't have that relaxing and indulgent flavor if I'm not making it for somebody else too.
3. As much as I really want to know what is going on in our budget, I need R to be in charge of it. I try to give my ideas on what money to save and our "play money," but I have some sort of fear of having to take care of it myself.
4. This drives R crazy, because I'm constantly asking to be involved but freaking out and running away when he does try to involve me in the monthly budget planning.
5. R also hates my eating habits when he's gone. Since I can't enjoy eating food I've spent time preparing, I eat nothing but TV dinners, bagel pizzas, and lun.chables. And cereal.
6. I don't usually eat those things when R is here, I save the "comfort food" factor of those things for when he's gone. I worry that if I indulge in bagel pizzas when he's around, they won't taste as good when he's gone and therefore I wouldn't eat much at all.
7. If I could eat nothing but Taco Bell while R is gone, I would. There is something about their chips that is just heavenly when dipped into that hot little plastic cup of cheese goo.
8. I nearly drove back to Taco Bell on Monday, because they only gave me 2 sauce packets total for my 2 tacos. I always use 2 mild packets per taco. From now on I will go inside to order so I can grab my own sauce packets and not deal with the stingy drive-thru lady. If I hadn't had extra sauce packets in my fridge (for just such an emergency), I wouldn't have been able to eat, seriously.
9. Which means my sauce packet emergency stash is now drained (because we always do drive-thru and they always stiff me on extra sauce packets) and I'm slightly panicked about the next time I have Taco Bell.
10. My brain latches on to weird things to obsessively worry about. Like wondering how hard it would be to replace a few ceiling tiles, if we'd have to take out the whole row, just the few surrounding tiles, everything to the wall... if the candelabra were to fall. A candelabra that is NOT currently put up, and I have no idea if we'll ever put up at all, considering the house is a little small for something of that size hanging from the ceiling, plus we never use candles, and it doesn't really match the decor. But I've been worrying for days about how to fix the ceiling if it falls.
11. I'm now considering drywalling the ceiling so that tiles are not an issue should we ever decide to put up the candelabra.
12. I really want new furniture, to go with the great rug we bought a few months ago.
13. But the rug has me so content that I don't actually care about furniture right now.
14. My dogs eat holistic, grain-free food. I was adament about cutting out fillers and poor-quality ingredients in their food.
15. But their treats are full of the crap I made sure their food doesn't have.
16. I don't care if that makes me a hypocrite, they rarely get treats anyway, so I don't see it as affecting them much. Plus, that food is expensive, which I don't mind, but grain-free treats cost as much per month as their food, and that's crazy.
17. I love both of my dogs, but pet one more than the other. The one I pet less is because he is always licking and rubbing his nose all over me, and I hate being slimed. I give the extra pettings when he is not around, because I don't want him to get jealous.
18. I feel so guilty about that, so I give him one more treat than the other dog every day. They don't notice the difference (because I give him an extra bedtime treat, and they are separated at night), but it eases my guilt to know that I'm somehow spoiling him in a way I don't spoil her.
19. I'm pretty sure that makes me crazy.
20. And I don't care, because my dogs are happy and loved.
21. Here begins writing session 2 of this little experiment in knowing myself. Session 1 went well, but I'm starting to feel a little lost and wondering how much there really is to know about me.
22. R tells me I'm perfect on a daily basis.
23. It means more to me coming from my friend K.
24. Only because K startled me the first time he said it. I had mentioned to K a conversation I'd had with my ex-husband prior to the divorce, telling him that every once in a while I just wanted him to tell me that I'm perfect. And said ex replied with "you're perfect, FOR ME." Yep, that divorce was worth it. But K remembered, and one day I was really down and upset and he told me I was perfect. I didn't think he had paid attention to that conversation, and I never expected him to remember. But he did, so I will always smile so big I almost cry when K tells me I'm perfect.
25. I feel like R jumped on the "perfect" bandwagon because he was jealous that K could affect me so much with just 2 words. I'd told him the ex story long before I told K, and K was the one that remembered and made a point to say it when I needed it most. R says it constantly, and that takes away a lot of the meaning for me.
26. I met K when I worked at cub scout camp (he worked on the boy scout side of camp). I was the "health officer." A glorified name for "girl who dispenses medications and sometimes washes a boo boo."
27. K was infatuated with me, but I thought very little of it, since I was one of 3 female staff members at the entire camp. We eventually did "date" long distance after camp, but we didn't "click" as a romantic couple and just stayed friends.
28. That was over 5 years ago, and I have considered him one of my very best friends since that summer.
29. Considering R and I have been together 7 1/2 years, that whole 5 years ago date can be confusing. R and I were very on-again-off-again. We were together for the first time 7 1/2 years ago, but it was about 50/50 on and off until 4 1/2 years ago when he proposed.
30. Those off-again times resulted in my first marriage and Little H's conception.
31. I got married the first time for none of the right reasons. I didn't want to be alone, an ex-boyfriend turned friend stood up to his family for me, diamonds are pretty, R was being an idiot and had completely cut off communication with me for no reason 2 months prior to me getting engaged. The guy promised to take care of me forever.
32. 3 months later he was calling me, drunk, from the strip club every night, telling me what his favorite girl was wearing and which girl he was going to have dinner with or take to the movies.
33. The ex and I were married for 6 months before we knew it was legal.
34. The county clerk had no marriage record for us, kept claiming it was lost in the mail or never sent by the official. Turns out it was there the whole time, "somebody" had convinced them to file it under the wrong date (because it was still in alphabetical order) and not enter it into the computers.
35. That "somebody" was ex's grandfather, who had way more weight in that town than somebody of his morals ever should.
36. Our marriage record appeared instantly when grandpa called to get it so ex could get a bigger paycheck from the military, but for another 2 months after that when I needed it the thing was still "lost."
37. I'm weird, so I actually considered deleting this number and making a stupid joke at the end about nobody noticing. Then I realized that it would be very m.yspace to do such a thing, and I'm way more mature than that. But I am curious as to why this number stuck out in my head as being the one I should delete.
38. My favorite number is actually 15, so 37 holds no significance that I know of.
39. I am OCD about my keys. I check my purse twice before I get out of the car, twice more after I get out but before I shut the door, and at least once more as I walk away from the car- making sure I did put my car keys in their pocket in my purse. I also take my house keys with me when I walk to the end of my tiny driveway to check the mail.
40. The house keys are somewhat justified, though. Last winter we had adopted a german shepherd from the shelter, and while R and I unloaded some things from the truck into the garage we had the dogs in the laundry room (this is before the male we have now, but we had our lab mix). When we went to enter the house after we finished, the deadbolt was locked. Turns our the german shepherd really wanted to come outside with us and pawed at the door until it locked. My keys were in my purse, in the house, and that was the exact moment we realized R had locked his keys in the truck.
41. The truck window was open just enough to reach in and unlock it, so we weren't locked outside all night and no locksmith was necessary. But I will never be on the outside of anything without my keys again.
42. Our house only has 2 bedrooms, one for us and one for Little H. I think I let R buy this house for that reason, because I had lost all hope of having a baby and couldn't handle the idea of a third bedroom that would never become a nursery.
43. Turns out our insurance does cover the RE. We were told multiple times last year that it didn't, so we cancelled our appt and I went on BCP to control the endo. I just got the benefits book, and the RE is covered, including any diagnostics. And there is no mention of medications not being covered, so I think we actually have coverage for those, too, just a crazy-high copay because there is no way IF meds are part of their formulary.
44. I'm excited by that and scared at the same time, because of the whole "haven't had sex with my husband in 8 months" thing I blogged about not long ago. I want to get started right away, but I don't want R to feel like he's just a sperm bank, and I want to be in a place inside myself where I can "be" with R completely, before I'm knocked up and morning sickness takes away any chance of nookie.
45. R is even more excited than I am, he's making plans for how to take care of me after lap (because I can feel that the endo is raging again, so I need/want one before we start TTC again), wondering what drugs he can give me before the HSG so I'm not in as much pain this time, wants the list of baby names we came up with way back when we were naive and hopeful, keeping track of the foods I sometimes crave now, especially the odd ones (like Pi.zza Hut cheesy breadsticks, made on an unwashed cinnamon breadsticks pan, so they have cinnamon sugar on the bottom and cheese on the top- had it once on accident, and now I need it sometimes).
46. But we actually don't have to have sex to get pg, in fact, sex won't get us pg. So we could start seeing the RE and doing IUI, and never have sex again. Not that we would, but it's strange to know that I could NEVER have sex again, and still get pg.
47. I'm not telling R about that. Besides the fact that he would be crushed, he would also agree with me and drag me to the RE right away to get started.
48. He's got the baby bug more than me, like 2ww with strange symptoms, he just knows it's going to happen, baby bug.
49. I don't know if I'm amazed by his continuing naivete or irritated by his lack of reality.
50. I chose to write from the computer desk today, rather than my comfy lap desk at the couch, because the dogs are comfy on the couch.
51. If a bigger couch would fit in my house, I would buy one so that they could stretch out on in and still leave me a little bit of room to sit.
52. Except they would just stretch out even more, so I'd still have to sit elsewhere. And I wouldn't mind at all.
53. They drive me so crazy when I'm trying to use the computer. I think they are jealous of the laptop, because it's the only time I won't give them at least a little attention before telling them to go play on their own.
54. Writing day 3, which is over a week since the last time I was writing here...
55. My thoughts tend to ramble inside my head, so much that even I can't always figure out how I got from one thought to the next.
56. Back to the K thing- when I worked at camp, my "camp name" (for fun, and I think a little to protect everybody's privacy) was Lucky Bug.
57. K gave me that name, because on the night I was trying to come up with a name a bug fell down my shirt. I'm sure you can all guess the rest of the story.
58. My great-grandmother was a mail-order bride of some sort.
59. But not the Russian stereotype, she was from the Netherlands or something (I don't have all the details, but if anybody can guess her country-of-origin I will write an entire blog about how awesome you are. The last name is Nutting, if that helps).
60. R and I are getting each other new cell phones for Christmas this year (he's doing the ordering, but we each picked out the one we want), mostly because they're practically free when we renew our contract, and partially because we both just want new cute phones.
61. Mine was so much harder to decide to get, because I only had 1 option. I HATE flip phones, don't want any type of bla.ckberry-ish thing, and the only slider phone option has an MP3 player, which I would never use (I have 3 CDs on rotation in my car, but I only switch between them once every 2-4 months), so I was left with a single choice. Which is ok, because it's just a standard bar phone, it calls people and it has text messaging. That's all I want or need. Yeah, a camera would be convenient, but camera phones take shitty pictures and I have an awesome digital camera if I really want pictures of anything.
62. You would think that only 1 option would make it easy, but it didn't, because then the choice wasn't "which phone do I want?" but rather "do I really want a new phone if the only option isn't exactly what I had wanted?"
63. I really wanted a slider phone.
64. Almost entirely because I'm pretty sure it would look completely bitchy to hang up on somebody with one, and I think that would be fun.
65. The image of hanging up on somebody is probably the worst reason EVER to choose a specific phone, but I'm ok with that.
66. Thursday is my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary.
67. They had a double wedding, my grandma's sister married my grandpa's brother in the same ceremony.
68. The cousins from those two couples are SO similar- looks, voice, mannerisms, etc. They're basically all brothers and sisters genetically.
69. Sadly, that also extends to the prevalence of diabetes in that generation.
70. R suggested hanging that chandelier. I immediately projected my state of near-panic about the possibility of it falling, so it's now sitting in the bedroom with no ideas what to do with it.
71. R and I have decided to have Thanksgiving Dinner alone this year. Maybe not alone, because we are going to invite our friend and her baby (my godson) since her fiance is gone and her family sucks. But she may not feel like driving 2 hours, which actually wouldn't bother me at all.
72. I don't think I'm even making a turkey, probably just baking chicken breast.
73. The "fixin's" are the important part anyway, who cares what kind of bird it is as long as there is stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy and corn and rolls and pie (additional "fixin's" suggestions welcome. please note that we don't like cranberries, or onions, or green bean casserole). I plan on doing it up right (with the exception of the bird) and really enjoying ourselves.
74. I am sad that we won't be with my family, but Argos is stuck outside when we go downstate and I am tired of him being ignored and tied up. My dad was an ass about things over the weekend, which gave me even more reason to boycott family dinner.
75. My family used to be so close, we did everything together. Now two of my cousins live too far away to come home (one is in Wyoming and was just home over the summer, the other is in Australia), one cousin just doesn't come around at all anymore, another cousin should be in jail for all the shit he's pulled recently (including driving bad on his dad's motorcycle, even though he doesn't have a licence to drive even a car, stealing money from every family member he's been allowed around in the past year, etc), that one's dad has a new girlfriend with a 5 year old son and she's one of the worst parents I've encountered in a long time (the kid swears constantly, screams at all times, hits, kicks, bites, violently abuses the chihuahua his dumbass mother got for him). Honestly, if my family just consisted of my mom, my grandparents, my aunt, and the two cousins that are too far away (and my brothers, they're alright), I'd be happy. The rest really aren't worth my time.
76. I'm really mourning the long-lost perfect family holiday. We'd eat off the good china and the special silverware, everybody smiled and laughed, everything tasted perfect, the house smelled like love. Honestly, we were a fucking greeting card! Aunt J's waldorf salad, cousin SJ and her determination to make mac & cheese from scratch (she always loved it, but it was NOT my favorite), grandma's pies, loaded with whipped cream.
77. I know Thanksgiving this year wouldn't be that, so I'm glad that I can use Argos as an additional excuse to not go. I really don't want to be disappointed by my family.
78. I kick ass at Har.ry Po.tter for Ga.meboy. I had to learn how to play it so I could help Little H if he needed it. I totally beat the game in less than a week.
79. I suck at just about every other video game ever invented. I can't even get through 3 screens in Zeld.a before dying. There are not enough fairies in that game!
80. Except for Drag.on Que.st. That is the awesomest game ever. I have one with an emulator on my laptop (I believe it's DQ5), but I want them all. I can play for 6 hours without any sort of break and be perfectly happy.
81. I never played that game on our N.inte.ndo as a child, never really cared to. But now I love it so much.
82. R does the same thing, except with games that people have actually heard of, and that are new and use real technology.
83. Technology pisses me off, give me Ore.gon Trail anyday.
84. I think maybe I feel that way because I suck. There are entirely too many buttons on the new game controllers.
85. I recently found out that I did a lot more damage than originally thought when I strained my neck as a child (every muscle on the right side was pulled, my left ear actually touched my chest). As a result, I have very little head-tilting range of motion, and my head is permanently cocked just a little bit.
86. When my head is positioned properly, everything looks different, because for 18 years I've adjusted to it being "off."
87. I have a degree as a paramedic.
88. I decided not to complete my internship or do the national testing for licensure when I nearly had a mental breakdown in the back of the ambulance one day.
89. I haven't looked back.
90. Although sometimes I get jealous when I see an ambulance go by with lights and siren. I miss the adrenaline rush, and the feeling of helping people.
91. I was also a firefighter for a year and a half.
92. I didn't do much fire fighting because it was a small rural department, and then I injured my back during training class and had to step away from most of it.
93. My poor spine is straight in places that should curve and curved in places that should be straight. For being an extremely cautious, tiny, 25 year old girl, my back is fucked. I am so gonna be the grandma with the hump, there's really no hope for me.
94. On the topic of my family, my grandpa's side of the family has a very persistent trait of "the hidden baby toe." Nearly 1/2 of my baby toe is underneath its neighbor, my grandpa's is so bad you can barely tell he has one at all. Crazy genetics, even my nephews have slightly hidden baby toes.
95. That damn toe is what makes me saddest about Little H not being mine biologically. I cut his toenails every weekend he comes over, and I get slightly sad when I cut the baby toenail because I don't have to search for it under the next toe.
96. I also hate that his mother never cuts them, which is why at 2 years old his toenails wrapped all the way around the ends of his toes and ended underneath.
97. It took me 6 months of fighting and kicking and screaming and cutting his toenails to get them back to near where they belonged.
98. The way we got him to sit still while I did it: "if you sit still, for every toe that hurts you can punch Daddy one time."
99. So it taught him to hit, at least his toenails end on the top if his foot and not the bottom now. And he only ever hit when cutting his nails, he knew better than to try that crap any other time.
100. His mother still doesn't cut his nails, although she will sometimes do the tiniest of trimmings and claim she did (as in his nails were still in desperate need of being cut, but at least he didn't look like he was wearing fake nails anymore because of the length).
101. Being with R still makes me happier than anything else in the world, I breathe deeper and feel more comfortable with him around than I ever have before. I can't imagine my life without that. Oh, and I never did remember those things I had forgotten while typing in the numbers before starting.
1. I need to have an ending point, I need to see the end of the tunnel. Case in point- I typed in every number before starting, even though it caused me to forget several of the things I had already thought of.
2. I need to know that my effort is appreciated. This means I can do very little just for myself. While R has been gone, I rarely clean the house or do dishes, because I cannot appreciate my own hard work. I will scrub every nook and cranny right before he comes home, but until then I can't force myself to be proactive. I can't even enjoy cooking for myself, food just doesn't have that relaxing and indulgent flavor if I'm not making it for somebody else too.
3. As much as I really want to know what is going on in our budget, I need R to be in charge of it. I try to give my ideas on what money to save and our "play money," but I have some sort of fear of having to take care of it myself.
4. This drives R crazy, because I'm constantly asking to be involved but freaking out and running away when he does try to involve me in the monthly budget planning.
5. R also hates my eating habits when he's gone. Since I can't enjoy eating food I've spent time preparing, I eat nothing but TV dinners, bagel pizzas, and lun.chables. And cereal.
6. I don't usually eat those things when R is here, I save the "comfort food" factor of those things for when he's gone. I worry that if I indulge in bagel pizzas when he's around, they won't taste as good when he's gone and therefore I wouldn't eat much at all.
7. If I could eat nothing but Taco Bell while R is gone, I would. There is something about their chips that is just heavenly when dipped into that hot little plastic cup of cheese goo.
8. I nearly drove back to Taco Bell on Monday, because they only gave me 2 sauce packets total for my 2 tacos. I always use 2 mild packets per taco. From now on I will go inside to order so I can grab my own sauce packets and not deal with the stingy drive-thru lady. If I hadn't had extra sauce packets in my fridge (for just such an emergency), I wouldn't have been able to eat, seriously.
9. Which means my sauce packet emergency stash is now drained (because we always do drive-thru and they always stiff me on extra sauce packets) and I'm slightly panicked about the next time I have Taco Bell.
10. My brain latches on to weird things to obsessively worry about. Like wondering how hard it would be to replace a few ceiling tiles, if we'd have to take out the whole row, just the few surrounding tiles, everything to the wall... if the candelabra were to fall. A candelabra that is NOT currently put up, and I have no idea if we'll ever put up at all, considering the house is a little small for something of that size hanging from the ceiling, plus we never use candles, and it doesn't really match the decor. But I've been worrying for days about how to fix the ceiling if it falls.
11. I'm now considering drywalling the ceiling so that tiles are not an issue should we ever decide to put up the candelabra.
12. I really want new furniture, to go with the great rug we bought a few months ago.
13. But the rug has me so content that I don't actually care about furniture right now.
14. My dogs eat holistic, grain-free food. I was adament about cutting out fillers and poor-quality ingredients in their food.
15. But their treats are full of the crap I made sure their food doesn't have.
16. I don't care if that makes me a hypocrite, they rarely get treats anyway, so I don't see it as affecting them much. Plus, that food is expensive, which I don't mind, but grain-free treats cost as much per month as their food, and that's crazy.
17. I love both of my dogs, but pet one more than the other. The one I pet less is because he is always licking and rubbing his nose all over me, and I hate being slimed. I give the extra pettings when he is not around, because I don't want him to get jealous.
18. I feel so guilty about that, so I give him one more treat than the other dog every day. They don't notice the difference (because I give him an extra bedtime treat, and they are separated at night), but it eases my guilt to know that I'm somehow spoiling him in a way I don't spoil her.
19. I'm pretty sure that makes me crazy.
20. And I don't care, because my dogs are happy and loved.
21. Here begins writing session 2 of this little experiment in knowing myself. Session 1 went well, but I'm starting to feel a little lost and wondering how much there really is to know about me.
22. R tells me I'm perfect on a daily basis.
23. It means more to me coming from my friend K.
24. Only because K startled me the first time he said it. I had mentioned to K a conversation I'd had with my ex-husband prior to the divorce, telling him that every once in a while I just wanted him to tell me that I'm perfect. And said ex replied with "you're perfect, FOR ME." Yep, that divorce was worth it. But K remembered, and one day I was really down and upset and he told me I was perfect. I didn't think he had paid attention to that conversation, and I never expected him to remember. But he did, so I will always smile so big I almost cry when K tells me I'm perfect.
25. I feel like R jumped on the "perfect" bandwagon because he was jealous that K could affect me so much with just 2 words. I'd told him the ex story long before I told K, and K was the one that remembered and made a point to say it when I needed it most. R says it constantly, and that takes away a lot of the meaning for me.
26. I met K when I worked at cub scout camp (he worked on the boy scout side of camp). I was the "health officer." A glorified name for "girl who dispenses medications and sometimes washes a boo boo."
27. K was infatuated with me, but I thought very little of it, since I was one of 3 female staff members at the entire camp. We eventually did "date" long distance after camp, but we didn't "click" as a romantic couple and just stayed friends.
28. That was over 5 years ago, and I have considered him one of my very best friends since that summer.
29. Considering R and I have been together 7 1/2 years, that whole 5 years ago date can be confusing. R and I were very on-again-off-again. We were together for the first time 7 1/2 years ago, but it was about 50/50 on and off until 4 1/2 years ago when he proposed.
30. Those off-again times resulted in my first marriage and Little H's conception.
31. I got married the first time for none of the right reasons. I didn't want to be alone, an ex-boyfriend turned friend stood up to his family for me, diamonds are pretty, R was being an idiot and had completely cut off communication with me for no reason 2 months prior to me getting engaged. The guy promised to take care of me forever.
32. 3 months later he was calling me, drunk, from the strip club every night, telling me what his favorite girl was wearing and which girl he was going to have dinner with or take to the movies.
33. The ex and I were married for 6 months before we knew it was legal.
34. The county clerk had no marriage record for us, kept claiming it was lost in the mail or never sent by the official. Turns out it was there the whole time, "somebody" had convinced them to file it under the wrong date (because it was still in alphabetical order) and not enter it into the computers.
35. That "somebody" was ex's grandfather, who had way more weight in that town than somebody of his morals ever should.
36. Our marriage record appeared instantly when grandpa called to get it so ex could get a bigger paycheck from the military, but for another 2 months after that when I needed it the thing was still "lost."
37. I'm weird, so I actually considered deleting this number and making a stupid joke at the end about nobody noticing. Then I realized that it would be very m.yspace to do such a thing, and I'm way more mature than that. But I am curious as to why this number stuck out in my head as being the one I should delete.
38. My favorite number is actually 15, so 37 holds no significance that I know of.
39. I am OCD about my keys. I check my purse twice before I get out of the car, twice more after I get out but before I shut the door, and at least once more as I walk away from the car- making sure I did put my car keys in their pocket in my purse. I also take my house keys with me when I walk to the end of my tiny driveway to check the mail.
40. The house keys are somewhat justified, though. Last winter we had adopted a german shepherd from the shelter, and while R and I unloaded some things from the truck into the garage we had the dogs in the laundry room (this is before the male we have now, but we had our lab mix). When we went to enter the house after we finished, the deadbolt was locked. Turns our the german shepherd really wanted to come outside with us and pawed at the door until it locked. My keys were in my purse, in the house, and that was the exact moment we realized R had locked his keys in the truck.
41. The truck window was open just enough to reach in and unlock it, so we weren't locked outside all night and no locksmith was necessary. But I will never be on the outside of anything without my keys again.
42. Our house only has 2 bedrooms, one for us and one for Little H. I think I let R buy this house for that reason, because I had lost all hope of having a baby and couldn't handle the idea of a third bedroom that would never become a nursery.
43. Turns out our insurance does cover the RE. We were told multiple times last year that it didn't, so we cancelled our appt and I went on BCP to control the endo. I just got the benefits book, and the RE is covered, including any diagnostics. And there is no mention of medications not being covered, so I think we actually have coverage for those, too, just a crazy-high copay because there is no way IF meds are part of their formulary.
44. I'm excited by that and scared at the same time, because of the whole "haven't had sex with my husband in 8 months" thing I blogged about not long ago. I want to get started right away, but I don't want R to feel like he's just a sperm bank, and I want to be in a place inside myself where I can "be" with R completely, before I'm knocked up and morning sickness takes away any chance of nookie.
45. R is even more excited than I am, he's making plans for how to take care of me after lap (because I can feel that the endo is raging again, so I need/want one before we start TTC again), wondering what drugs he can give me before the HSG so I'm not in as much pain this time, wants the list of baby names we came up with way back when we were naive and hopeful, keeping track of the foods I sometimes crave now, especially the odd ones (like Pi.zza Hut cheesy breadsticks, made on an unwashed cinnamon breadsticks pan, so they have cinnamon sugar on the bottom and cheese on the top- had it once on accident, and now I need it sometimes).
46. But we actually don't have to have sex to get pg, in fact, sex won't get us pg. So we could start seeing the RE and doing IUI, and never have sex again. Not that we would, but it's strange to know that I could NEVER have sex again, and still get pg.
47. I'm not telling R about that. Besides the fact that he would be crushed, he would also agree with me and drag me to the RE right away to get started.
48. He's got the baby bug more than me, like 2ww with strange symptoms, he just knows it's going to happen, baby bug.
49. I don't know if I'm amazed by his continuing naivete or irritated by his lack of reality.
50. I chose to write from the computer desk today, rather than my comfy lap desk at the couch, because the dogs are comfy on the couch.
51. If a bigger couch would fit in my house, I would buy one so that they could stretch out on in and still leave me a little bit of room to sit.
52. Except they would just stretch out even more, so I'd still have to sit elsewhere. And I wouldn't mind at all.
53. They drive me so crazy when I'm trying to use the computer. I think they are jealous of the laptop, because it's the only time I won't give them at least a little attention before telling them to go play on their own.
54. Writing day 3, which is over a week since the last time I was writing here...
55. My thoughts tend to ramble inside my head, so much that even I can't always figure out how I got from one thought to the next.
56. Back to the K thing- when I worked at camp, my "camp name" (for fun, and I think a little to protect everybody's privacy) was Lucky Bug.
57. K gave me that name, because on the night I was trying to come up with a name a bug fell down my shirt. I'm sure you can all guess the rest of the story.
58. My great-grandmother was a mail-order bride of some sort.
59. But not the Russian stereotype, she was from the Netherlands or something (I don't have all the details, but if anybody can guess her country-of-origin I will write an entire blog about how awesome you are. The last name is Nutting, if that helps).
60. R and I are getting each other new cell phones for Christmas this year (he's doing the ordering, but we each picked out the one we want), mostly because they're practically free when we renew our contract, and partially because we both just want new cute phones.
61. Mine was so much harder to decide to get, because I only had 1 option. I HATE flip phones, don't want any type of bla.ckberry-ish thing, and the only slider phone option has an MP3 player, which I would never use (I have 3 CDs on rotation in my car, but I only switch between them once every 2-4 months), so I was left with a single choice. Which is ok, because it's just a standard bar phone, it calls people and it has text messaging. That's all I want or need. Yeah, a camera would be convenient, but camera phones take shitty pictures and I have an awesome digital camera if I really want pictures of anything.
62. You would think that only 1 option would make it easy, but it didn't, because then the choice wasn't "which phone do I want?" but rather "do I really want a new phone if the only option isn't exactly what I had wanted?"
63. I really wanted a slider phone.
64. Almost entirely because I'm pretty sure it would look completely bitchy to hang up on somebody with one, and I think that would be fun.
65. The image of hanging up on somebody is probably the worst reason EVER to choose a specific phone, but I'm ok with that.
66. Thursday is my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary.
67. They had a double wedding, my grandma's sister married my grandpa's brother in the same ceremony.
68. The cousins from those two couples are SO similar- looks, voice, mannerisms, etc. They're basically all brothers and sisters genetically.
69. Sadly, that also extends to the prevalence of diabetes in that generation.
70. R suggested hanging that chandelier. I immediately projected my state of near-panic about the possibility of it falling, so it's now sitting in the bedroom with no ideas what to do with it.
71. R and I have decided to have Thanksgiving Dinner alone this year. Maybe not alone, because we are going to invite our friend and her baby (my godson) since her fiance is gone and her family sucks. But she may not feel like driving 2 hours, which actually wouldn't bother me at all.
72. I don't think I'm even making a turkey, probably just baking chicken breast.
73. The "fixin's" are the important part anyway, who cares what kind of bird it is as long as there is stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy and corn and rolls and pie (additional "fixin's" suggestions welcome. please note that we don't like cranberries, or onions, or green bean casserole). I plan on doing it up right (with the exception of the bird) and really enjoying ourselves.
74. I am sad that we won't be with my family, but Argos is stuck outside when we go downstate and I am tired of him being ignored and tied up. My dad was an ass about things over the weekend, which gave me even more reason to boycott family dinner.
75. My family used to be so close, we did everything together. Now two of my cousins live too far away to come home (one is in Wyoming and was just home over the summer, the other is in Australia), one cousin just doesn't come around at all anymore, another cousin should be in jail for all the shit he's pulled recently (including driving bad on his dad's motorcycle, even though he doesn't have a licence to drive even a car, stealing money from every family member he's been allowed around in the past year, etc), that one's dad has a new girlfriend with a 5 year old son and she's one of the worst parents I've encountered in a long time (the kid swears constantly, screams at all times, hits, kicks, bites, violently abuses the chihuahua his dumbass mother got for him). Honestly, if my family just consisted of my mom, my grandparents, my aunt, and the two cousins that are too far away (and my brothers, they're alright), I'd be happy. The rest really aren't worth my time.
76. I'm really mourning the long-lost perfect family holiday. We'd eat off the good china and the special silverware, everybody smiled and laughed, everything tasted perfect, the house smelled like love. Honestly, we were a fucking greeting card! Aunt J's waldorf salad, cousin SJ and her determination to make mac & cheese from scratch (she always loved it, but it was NOT my favorite), grandma's pies, loaded with whipped cream.
77. I know Thanksgiving this year wouldn't be that, so I'm glad that I can use Argos as an additional excuse to not go. I really don't want to be disappointed by my family.
78. I kick ass at Har.ry Po.tter for Ga.meboy. I had to learn how to play it so I could help Little H if he needed it. I totally beat the game in less than a week.
79. I suck at just about every other video game ever invented. I can't even get through 3 screens in Zeld.a before dying. There are not enough fairies in that game!
80. Except for Drag.on Que.st. That is the awesomest game ever. I have one with an emulator on my laptop (I believe it's DQ5), but I want them all. I can play for 6 hours without any sort of break and be perfectly happy.
81. I never played that game on our N.inte.ndo as a child, never really cared to. But now I love it so much.
82. R does the same thing, except with games that people have actually heard of, and that are new and use real technology.
83. Technology pisses me off, give me Ore.gon Trail anyday.
84. I think maybe I feel that way because I suck. There are entirely too many buttons on the new game controllers.
85. I recently found out that I did a lot more damage than originally thought when I strained my neck as a child (every muscle on the right side was pulled, my left ear actually touched my chest). As a result, I have very little head-tilting range of motion, and my head is permanently cocked just a little bit.
86. When my head is positioned properly, everything looks different, because for 18 years I've adjusted to it being "off."
87. I have a degree as a paramedic.
88. I decided not to complete my internship or do the national testing for licensure when I nearly had a mental breakdown in the back of the ambulance one day.
89. I haven't looked back.
90. Although sometimes I get jealous when I see an ambulance go by with lights and siren. I miss the adrenaline rush, and the feeling of helping people.
91. I was also a firefighter for a year and a half.
92. I didn't do much fire fighting because it was a small rural department, and then I injured my back during training class and had to step away from most of it.
93. My poor spine is straight in places that should curve and curved in places that should be straight. For being an extremely cautious, tiny, 25 year old girl, my back is fucked. I am so gonna be the grandma with the hump, there's really no hope for me.
94. On the topic of my family, my grandpa's side of the family has a very persistent trait of "the hidden baby toe." Nearly 1/2 of my baby toe is underneath its neighbor, my grandpa's is so bad you can barely tell he has one at all. Crazy genetics, even my nephews have slightly hidden baby toes.
95. That damn toe is what makes me saddest about Little H not being mine biologically. I cut his toenails every weekend he comes over, and I get slightly sad when I cut the baby toenail because I don't have to search for it under the next toe.
96. I also hate that his mother never cuts them, which is why at 2 years old his toenails wrapped all the way around the ends of his toes and ended underneath.
97. It took me 6 months of fighting and kicking and screaming and cutting his toenails to get them back to near where they belonged.
98. The way we got him to sit still while I did it: "if you sit still, for every toe that hurts you can punch Daddy one time."
99. So it taught him to hit, at least his toenails end on the top if his foot and not the bottom now. And he only ever hit when cutting his nails, he knew better than to try that crap any other time.
100. His mother still doesn't cut his nails, although she will sometimes do the tiniest of trimmings and claim she did (as in his nails were still in desperate need of being cut, but at least he didn't look like he was wearing fake nails anymore because of the length).
101. Being with R still makes me happier than anything else in the world, I breathe deeper and feel more comfortable with him around than I ever have before. I can't imagine my life without that. Oh, and I never did remember those things I had forgotten while typing in the numbers before starting.
I'm not lonely
Not that I'm embarassed about the dirty dream, I just figured I should put something else up so that I'm not "that weird girl who's always talking about taboo shit." You know, like the 2 weeks I was obsessed by my nude photo shoot (ok, it was more than 2 weeks, I admit it).
I'm not lonely, I swear. I'm bored out of my freaking skull, but not lonely. I love having my house to myself (as long as the sun is somewhere above the horizon). But oh so bored. And bored leads to rambling thoughts, which leads to "I should blog about that" even if it's not very interesting. Sorry you all have to put up with me during my boredom.
It also means checking out sta.tcounter much more regularly. Apparently I was popular in Dubai one day (likely just one person, but they clicked all over the place reading my babble). Most often people come to my blog from Mel's blog, quite a few from Amy's blog too. And then I saw it, somebody came from Beth's blog. Holy crap, I'm linked to from Beth's blog too. More than 2 people like me enough to provide links in their blogs. I'm astonished, because really I do ramble and make little sense most of the time, and I do not stick to the whole IF theme of my blog, ever. And then I realized, I don't really know Beth, I haven't been following her story. Hell, I hadn't read her blog at all before this week. I have got a lot of catching up to do. I promise, Beth, I'm reading a lot, I will do right by you. I will be worthy of your link.
Mel, Amy, not meaning to say that your readership and links don't mean the world to me as well, because they do. I read you every day. I'm just sucking up to Beth a little because I suddenly feel extra-special that somebody I haven't commented on or exchanged emails with actually linked to me. I'm in love with the way that feels.
And it makes more work for me, because it reminds me that I haven't edited/added to my blog links since I started this thing. And I read way more blogs than I have linked to. Time to step up, I'm making myself look bad. Oooh, hey, anybody out there that has links to me, tell me, I want to know. It'll make me giddy for a month, and I'll add you too and read you every day. That makes me sound so sad, begging for people to acknowledge me, but I'm ok with that.
Seriously, Beth, that made my month.
I'm not lonely, I swear. I'm bored out of my freaking skull, but not lonely. I love having my house to myself (as long as the sun is somewhere above the horizon). But oh so bored. And bored leads to rambling thoughts, which leads to "I should blog about that" even if it's not very interesting. Sorry you all have to put up with me during my boredom.
It also means checking out sta.tcounter much more regularly. Apparently I was popular in Dubai one day (likely just one person, but they clicked all over the place reading my babble). Most often people come to my blog from Mel's blog, quite a few from Amy's blog too. And then I saw it, somebody came from Beth's blog. Holy crap, I'm linked to from Beth's blog too. More than 2 people like me enough to provide links in their blogs. I'm astonished, because really I do ramble and make little sense most of the time, and I do not stick to the whole IF theme of my blog, ever. And then I realized, I don't really know Beth, I haven't been following her story. Hell, I hadn't read her blog at all before this week. I have got a lot of catching up to do. I promise, Beth, I'm reading a lot, I will do right by you. I will be worthy of your link.
Mel, Amy, not meaning to say that your readership and links don't mean the world to me as well, because they do. I read you every day. I'm just sucking up to Beth a little because I suddenly feel extra-special that somebody I haven't commented on or exchanged emails with actually linked to me. I'm in love with the way that feels.
And it makes more work for me, because it reminds me that I haven't edited/added to my blog links since I started this thing. And I read way more blogs than I have linked to. Time to step up, I'm making myself look bad. Oooh, hey, anybody out there that has links to me, tell me, I want to know. It'll make me giddy for a month, and I'll add you too and read you every day. That makes me sound so sad, begging for people to acknowledge me, but I'm ok with that.
Seriously, Beth, that made my month.
08 November 2007
I had a naughty dream!!!!
Not that any of you really want these details, I'm just so excited. As you know, I moved out back in May. Things were bad with R. The summer went by, things were slowly getting better. Then all of the issues with Little H, so I moved back a little earlier than I had really planned. We've been continuing to work on our issues, and we've come so far. Except where intimacy is concerned. It's been since March. I just can't get past the trust issues (as in trusting that he will provide adequate attention to me, not just enjoy himself and fall asleep), and that is really hindering getting any further in our reconnection. I want to love him in every way, and emotionally I am feeling the pull towards him more and more every day, but something is holding me back physically.
Last night, my subconcious started getting a little impatient. It decided to let me know that at least some parts of me are quite ready. Holy crap! In 8 months, absolutely nothing has hinted to me that I want to be intimate with R, not much hinting in the 6 months before that either. I think I might want to have sex with my husband. This is a very new thought to me (and a very important one, considering this is supposed to be my TTC with IF blog). I'm not saying that I'm not physically attracted to R, and his arms around me make me feel better than anything in the world. When he holds me, or kisses my cheek, or absentmindedly rubs my feet, I never want to be with anybody else. But this whole wanting to have sex with him thing is actually quite new. I think I like it. Not that I'm really ready to act on it yet, but there seems to finally be a light at the end of the tunnel. If only I could tell R without him getting frantically excited and talking about nothing else until I punch him in the face. At least I know, that's better than nothing.
Last night, my subconcious started getting a little impatient. It decided to let me know that at least some parts of me are quite ready. Holy crap! In 8 months, absolutely nothing has hinted to me that I want to be intimate with R, not much hinting in the 6 months before that either. I think I might want to have sex with my husband. This is a very new thought to me (and a very important one, considering this is supposed to be my TTC with IF blog). I'm not saying that I'm not physically attracted to R, and his arms around me make me feel better than anything in the world. When he holds me, or kisses my cheek, or absentmindedly rubs my feet, I never want to be with anybody else. But this whole wanting to have sex with him thing is actually quite new. I think I like it. Not that I'm really ready to act on it yet, but there seems to finally be a light at the end of the tunnel. If only I could tell R without him getting frantically excited and talking about nothing else until I punch him in the face. At least I know, that's better than nothing.
06 November 2007
How this came to be (my story)
I've always dreamed about being a stay-at-home-mom: baking cookies, teaching my children how to color inside the lines, giggling all day, and sighing in relaxation when they are finally tucked into bed. R didn't really have a "parenthood" dream, but when he heard mine he promised to make it come true. He started trying to fulfill that promise the day we got married. We knew my endometriosis might cause a problem, but everybody I personally knew with endometriosis had children without treatments and we thought we'd be just as lucky.
One year later, on our anniversary, we got our very first positive pregnancy test. We cried, I slept sitting up because I was so nauseous all night long. A week later I was already a DD (up from a decent C), but that night I didn't need to prop myself up. A few days after that, the doctor confirmed that I was no longer pregnant. One whole year of trying, charting my temperature, peeing on any kind of testing device I could find (only the last 3 months, I stayed POAS-free for the first 9 months), and my baby was dead before I had a chance to experience even the first awkward OB appointment. Another 18 months of trying, laparoscopy to remove endometrial adhesions and cysts (and also move one ovary back into position, as it had been yanked back and down due to the adhesions), screaming with pain as dye was injected to see if my fallopian tubes were open, never buying another pregnancy test because I knew I was barren. We finally decided to give up, I got a prescription for birth control to help "control" the endometriosis until we were ready to try again. I was waiting for my period so I could start taking the pills, it came late. I was in an excited daze as I rushed to the store to buy a pregnancy test. Positive, barely. The next day my period came, but the test was still positive, barely. I begged my new doctor for a blood test, I went in later that day, and it was too low. This baby didn't even truly exist before it was gone.
Today we should be preparing for my firstborn's second birthday (a bit early, but I like to be well prepared), the new baby just a couple months old. Most of the family would be meeting the new baby for the first time at Thanksgiving Dinner. I would be washing baby socks, cursing how fast a toddler's feet grow as I pack a diaper bag to go to the store for yet another pair of shoes, and humming lullabies as I nurse my infant to sleep, big brother/sister sharing our rocking chair and humming along, R watching from across the room and smiling. Instead we are doing nothing. We aren't even seeing a specialist to help us make our dreams a reality. We can't. Our insurance won't cover medications or procedures, they have denied our request for even a consultation with the reproductive endocrinologist. It is pretty much set in stone that we will never be able to get pregnant the "old fashioned" way, and now we are also being denied treatment that would get around the medical condition I have been diagnosed with.
If my legs didn't work, they'd give me a wheelchair and physical therapy and a special car with speed control on the steering wheel. If I couldn't see, I'd get some sunglasses, a cool dog, books on tape, brail writing on bathroom doors. If I had cancer, people would wear ribbons to support me, women would grow their hair extra long so they could donate it for wigs, my struggle would have everybody standing by me and trying to help. But I can't have a baby. Women don't have egg donation parties, people don't see my empty womb and offer to read the menu for me if it doesn't come in a "fertility impaired" version, movies don't have a "child free for the emotionally devastated" option. But I don't care if society does anything to make my life easier, all I want is insurance coverage. Let me have the same pregnancy abilities as everybody else.
One year later, on our anniversary, we got our very first positive pregnancy test. We cried, I slept sitting up because I was so nauseous all night long. A week later I was already a DD (up from a decent C), but that night I didn't need to prop myself up. A few days after that, the doctor confirmed that I was no longer pregnant. One whole year of trying, charting my temperature, peeing on any kind of testing device I could find (only the last 3 months, I stayed POAS-free for the first 9 months), and my baby was dead before I had a chance to experience even the first awkward OB appointment. Another 18 months of trying, laparoscopy to remove endometrial adhesions and cysts (and also move one ovary back into position, as it had been yanked back and down due to the adhesions), screaming with pain as dye was injected to see if my fallopian tubes were open, never buying another pregnancy test because I knew I was barren. We finally decided to give up, I got a prescription for birth control to help "control" the endometriosis until we were ready to try again. I was waiting for my period so I could start taking the pills, it came late. I was in an excited daze as I rushed to the store to buy a pregnancy test. Positive, barely. The next day my period came, but the test was still positive, barely. I begged my new doctor for a blood test, I went in later that day, and it was too low. This baby didn't even truly exist before it was gone.
Today we should be preparing for my firstborn's second birthday (a bit early, but I like to be well prepared), the new baby just a couple months old. Most of the family would be meeting the new baby for the first time at Thanksgiving Dinner. I would be washing baby socks, cursing how fast a toddler's feet grow as I pack a diaper bag to go to the store for yet another pair of shoes, and humming lullabies as I nurse my infant to sleep, big brother/sister sharing our rocking chair and humming along, R watching from across the room and smiling. Instead we are doing nothing. We aren't even seeing a specialist to help us make our dreams a reality. We can't. Our insurance won't cover medications or procedures, they have denied our request for even a consultation with the reproductive endocrinologist. It is pretty much set in stone that we will never be able to get pregnant the "old fashioned" way, and now we are also being denied treatment that would get around the medical condition I have been diagnosed with.
If my legs didn't work, they'd give me a wheelchair and physical therapy and a special car with speed control on the steering wheel. If I couldn't see, I'd get some sunglasses, a cool dog, books on tape, brail writing on bathroom doors. If I had cancer, people would wear ribbons to support me, women would grow their hair extra long so they could donate it for wigs, my struggle would have everybody standing by me and trying to help. But I can't have a baby. Women don't have egg donation parties, people don't see my empty womb and offer to read the menu for me if it doesn't come in a "fertility impaired" version, movies don't have a "child free for the emotionally devastated" option. But I don't care if society does anything to make my life easier, all I want is insurance coverage. Let me have the same pregnancy abilities as everybody else.
01 November 2007
A couple days late
It has been slightly over a week. But still very close, so I'm going to pretend I didn't fail at my goal. You should all pretend with me.
My brother CML is visiting, for another hour and a half before we leave to go back downstate. He came up with me on Tuesday to keep me company while R is gone. That and his girlfriend is an insensitive whore. Long story, but I'll try to break it down.
Backstory: Tattooist is R's uncle, we're all part of a group of friends with several little breakaway groups, CML and Tattooist are very close, nearly as close as Tattooist and I, CML and DW (dirty whore) have been together for a couple years, the last 15 months she has been living in our parents' house with him.
OK, now for the current story: DW suddenly decides she's not entirely in love with CML, and tells him that. But she stays for a couple months, "hoping the feelings come back." At the same time, she is starting to develop a crush on Tattooist (who happens to be 18 years older than her, she's barely 20, going on 14). She tells Tattooist, he constantly tries to get her to go away without telling her off (because of the group of friends thing), she goes as far as trying to get Tattooist to let her sleep on his couch on the nights she works late (because my parents live 35 minutes from her work). Tattooist wants nothing to do with her, but she's developed Delusional and Horny Stalker Syndrome (DHSS for short). DHSS causes her to tell people that they've kissed (before she officially broke up with CML even).
When that doesn't work to get Tattooist to fall in love with her, she tells a coworker that she's had sex with both Tattooist and another coworker. The coworker she is part of the group of friends, in fact, Tattooist was best man in her wedding 3 months ago. Coworker tells her hubby, the hubby tells CML's best friend from high school, the friend tells CML. That friend also tells his girlfriend, who used to work at the tattoo studio, the girlfriend immediately calls Tattooist.
At the same time, she's text messaging R constantly. He has never spoken to her on the phone and does not respond to any of her text messages. But, that didn't stop her from sending 10 in one day, all about how she's in love with Tattooist. "I like Tattooist more than anybody" "It hurts so much that I can't be with Tattooist" You get the idea. Very middle school, but that's her maturity level. She also claimed to have had sex with "somebody else" and that she thought of Tattooist the entire time. R forwarded the text messages to me. I was 3 blocks from Tattooist's house, so I went over there and showed him, then showed CML when I got back to my parents' that night. CML called DW, lots of yelling, called her the "c" word. She was clueless as to how he would have heard any of that info (um, hello, best friend's best friend, oh and brother-in-law, did you expect them to hold your confidence over somebody they have known way longer and doesn't drive them crazy?). He told her about the text messages, but not the stuff she told her coworker. She called R when she got off the phone with CML. "I thought the conversations we had were confidential?" "What conversations?" "Rememver when CML and I visited you and we talked about 'stuff' that might happen between us?" "You're fucking crazy, we never had any conversations about that psycho shit, and CML was always there, we never had a single conversation alone, even about boring shit!"
OMG, I have never held such contempt for anybody in my entire life (ok, maybe Little H's biological mother, but we communicate through lawyers now, so she's not nearly as big of a pain in my ass). Not only did DW screw around on my brother, she also tried to scam my beloved Uncle Tattooist into falling madly in love with her, then she claimed he did even though he did everything possible to get rid of her, and then she tried to claim a tryst with MY HUSBAND! That bitch has issues! And she's staying with the mother of my godson while she tries to find some new boyfriend to shack up with. Which means I have to see her at my dear godson's 1st birthday party this weekend. If she speaks to me, I'm going to stab her with my plastic fork.
My brother CML is visiting, for another hour and a half before we leave to go back downstate. He came up with me on Tuesday to keep me company while R is gone. That and his girlfriend is an insensitive whore. Long story, but I'll try to break it down.
Backstory: Tattooist is R's uncle, we're all part of a group of friends with several little breakaway groups, CML and Tattooist are very close, nearly as close as Tattooist and I, CML and DW (dirty whore) have been together for a couple years, the last 15 months she has been living in our parents' house with him.
OK, now for the current story: DW suddenly decides she's not entirely in love with CML, and tells him that. But she stays for a couple months, "hoping the feelings come back." At the same time, she is starting to develop a crush on Tattooist (who happens to be 18 years older than her, she's barely 20, going on 14). She tells Tattooist, he constantly tries to get her to go away without telling her off (because of the group of friends thing), she goes as far as trying to get Tattooist to let her sleep on his couch on the nights she works late (because my parents live 35 minutes from her work). Tattooist wants nothing to do with her, but she's developed Delusional and Horny Stalker Syndrome (DHSS for short). DHSS causes her to tell people that they've kissed (before she officially broke up with CML even).
When that doesn't work to get Tattooist to fall in love with her, she tells a coworker that she's had sex with both Tattooist and another coworker. The coworker she is part of the group of friends, in fact, Tattooist was best man in her wedding 3 months ago. Coworker tells her hubby, the hubby tells CML's best friend from high school, the friend tells CML. That friend also tells his girlfriend, who used to work at the tattoo studio, the girlfriend immediately calls Tattooist.
At the same time, she's text messaging R constantly. He has never spoken to her on the phone and does not respond to any of her text messages. But, that didn't stop her from sending 10 in one day, all about how she's in love with Tattooist. "I like Tattooist more than anybody" "It hurts so much that I can't be with Tattooist" You get the idea. Very middle school, but that's her maturity level. She also claimed to have had sex with "somebody else" and that she thought of Tattooist the entire time. R forwarded the text messages to me. I was 3 blocks from Tattooist's house, so I went over there and showed him, then showed CML when I got back to my parents' that night. CML called DW, lots of yelling, called her the "c" word. She was clueless as to how he would have heard any of that info (um, hello, best friend's best friend, oh and brother-in-law, did you expect them to hold your confidence over somebody they have known way longer and doesn't drive them crazy?). He told her about the text messages, but not the stuff she told her coworker. She called R when she got off the phone with CML. "I thought the conversations we had were confidential?" "What conversations?" "Rememver when CML and I visited you and we talked about 'stuff' that might happen between us?" "You're fucking crazy, we never had any conversations about that psycho shit, and CML was always there, we never had a single conversation alone, even about boring shit!"
OMG, I have never held such contempt for anybody in my entire life (ok, maybe Little H's biological mother, but we communicate through lawyers now, so she's not nearly as big of a pain in my ass). Not only did DW screw around on my brother, she also tried to scam my beloved Uncle Tattooist into falling madly in love with her, then she claimed he did even though he did everything possible to get rid of her, and then she tried to claim a tryst with MY HUSBAND! That bitch has issues! And she's staying with the mother of my godson while she tries to find some new boyfriend to shack up with. Which means I have to see her at my dear godson's 1st birthday party this weekend. If she speaks to me, I'm going to stab her with my plastic fork.
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