Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Locked Out
Wow, just wow... I was locked out of my blog for a week, someone tagged me as spam, how can any of this rambling craziness be considered spam?
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Earrings
Oh wow, my wonderful step son has frustrated us to no end this week. His little brother T (one of the 12 year olds) got his ear pierced (his Grandma took him) And TM decided he wanted his done. Well we talked about it, and told him "you are in Navy ROTC and they wont let you wear it in uniform". So we said he should probably hold off till the summer. He said he would ask his Commander about it. OK, we know what she is going to say so go ahead right?
The next day he calls Husband and says "Dad I got kicked out of ROTC"
Husband upset asks "Why? What happened?"
Tm replies " I asked if I could get my ear pierced and Commander kicked me out of class."
That seemed odd to Husband so he called me to discuss it. I took a break at work and called the Commander. Surprise! It did not happen QUITE the way he told it.
He came to her before class and asked if he could get it done while in ROTC and just cover it with a bandage. She told him no, it was against regulations, then she dropped it, thought it was over. He the came back during class and said "No disrespect Ma'am but I think I will get my ears pierced" her reply was "You cannot do that and continue to be in ROTC" So he said "No disrespect but I am getting it done today". So she took him to the guidance office and signed him out of her class. I think it was fair, he basically dared her to enforce her rules and standards that he agreed to when he signed up for the class. Very disrespectful, and I am very disappointed in him.
His father had him apologise to her for being disrespectful but she would not let him back into the class, so he is now in another class a 2nd English.
Husband calls me at work says that TM has asked him (now that he CANT go back to ROTC) when is he gonna take him to get his ears peirced. Um no, you dont get rewarded for showing out and getting removed from a class.
TM then says "Its my money, and my body, so its not a reward its my decision". So its his Body, his Money but its Husband's signature until he turns 18, tough luck TM. No getting your way today :(
And I know teenagers are supposed to make you crazy but man some times I need a break, flag on the field.
The next day he calls Husband and says "Dad I got kicked out of ROTC"
Husband upset asks "Why? What happened?"
Tm replies " I asked if I could get my ear pierced and Commander kicked me out of class."
That seemed odd to Husband so he called me to discuss it. I took a break at work and called the Commander. Surprise! It did not happen QUITE the way he told it.
He came to her before class and asked if he could get it done while in ROTC and just cover it with a bandage. She told him no, it was against regulations, then she dropped it, thought it was over. He the came back during class and said "No disrespect Ma'am but I think I will get my ears pierced" her reply was "You cannot do that and continue to be in ROTC" So he said "No disrespect but I am getting it done today". So she took him to the guidance office and signed him out of her class. I think it was fair, he basically dared her to enforce her rules and standards that he agreed to when he signed up for the class. Very disrespectful, and I am very disappointed in him.
His father had him apologise to her for being disrespectful but she would not let him back into the class, so he is now in another class a 2nd English.
Husband calls me at work says that TM has asked him (now that he CANT go back to ROTC) when is he gonna take him to get his ears peirced. Um no, you dont get rewarded for showing out and getting removed from a class.
TM then says "Its my money, and my body, so its not a reward its my decision". So its his Body, his Money but its Husband's signature until he turns 18, tough luck TM. No getting your way today :(
And I know teenagers are supposed to make you crazy but man some times I need a break, flag on the field.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Rain matches my mood
The rain today matches my mood. I love the Husband and I love my children more than life itself yet some how these wonderful pieces of my heart are conspiring to not let me get ANYTHING done. The 5, 2, and 4 month old girls want Mommy. I get that I really do. The 17 and 12 year old boys want to do their own thing, I get that (mostly not babysit the girls). The Husband has a list of chores to do so we can at least unpack before we move again in a year. And I have work, I took a job through an agency as an independent contractor. It is full time, the Husband is a disabled Vet and does not work he is a stay at home Dad (which is way harder according to him than military service ever was). I don't mind working but I am working 60 plus at work and 20-25 at home. I a frustrated, my kids are frustrated, the Husband is frustrated. The rain matches my mood.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Here Goes
I was born, so cliche I know. But I was, to some very interesting and mostly crazy set of people. Neither of these wonderful people has ever seen me in a typical parent/child hierarchy so I know things about my parents that most people would shudder to know (but this is MY therapy so you will find out sooner or later).
My Mom and Dad met when she was 13 and he was 22, she announced promptly that she would marry him. Never mind that he was 9 years older, and married already, she set her mind to it. And though my Dad's first wife left a short time later it was just a strange part of timing(Great story there, the night they met he almost killed her accidentally and went to jail, the night she left she was tired of him actively trying to kill her, I hear he broke every bone in her foot with a broom handle). He didn't even know my Mom existed, she was completely outside of his radar. His little sister's friend's little sister. She made sure he took notice and knew who she was. Time passed she didn't forget that she wanted him. He went to prison and to Florida and came back when she was 17. Now to say my Mom is attractive is less than fair, she was and still is a beautiful woman. But she is my Mom so...I am a little biased. The day he pulled back into our home town he saw her pumping gas, and in his words "now that's a wonderful ass" but it looked familiar. So he stopped to meet the girl attached to it.
Surprise! Call it fate, call it density? Call it a train wreck in the making, or love. Six of one half dozen of another, what you name it doesn't change it. Whirl wind love affair, some fights, one arrest, some better living through pharmaceuticals (take your pick it was the 70's) and BAM! They get married. And so I was born. The night I was born the story goes that Daddy was MIA and his room mate took Mom to the hospital. When he finally showed up it was over and he was so hopped up on Blue Vs that they threw him out or tried to admit him (depending on who you ask) but there is a consensus that he was so high he bounced/fell/teetered from one wall to the other and didnt get to see me the first night. I was small and the hospital kept me for about a week.They took me home to my Grandma's, I had a crib there and stuffed animals. When I was with my parents I slept in a brown suit case so as not to be smothered in the bed with them. The marriage did not last long after that (I can tell you are all shocked) But that doesnt count as how I got here, more on that later. So there you go, the story of the start of me.
My Mom and Dad met when she was 13 and he was 22, she announced promptly that she would marry him. Never mind that he was 9 years older, and married already, she set her mind to it. And though my Dad's first wife left a short time later it was just a strange part of timing(Great story there, the night they met he almost killed her accidentally and went to jail, the night she left she was tired of him actively trying to kill her, I hear he broke every bone in her foot with a broom handle). He didn't even know my Mom existed, she was completely outside of his radar. His little sister's friend's little sister. She made sure he took notice and knew who she was. Time passed she didn't forget that she wanted him. He went to prison and to Florida and came back when she was 17. Now to say my Mom is attractive is less than fair, she was and still is a beautiful woman. But she is my Mom so...I am a little biased. The day he pulled back into our home town he saw her pumping gas, and in his words "now that's a wonderful ass" but it looked familiar. So he stopped to meet the girl attached to it.
Surprise! Call it fate, call it density? Call it a train wreck in the making, or love. Six of one half dozen of another, what you name it doesn't change it. Whirl wind love affair, some fights, one arrest, some better living through pharmaceuticals (take your pick it was the 70's) and BAM! They get married. And so I was born. The night I was born the story goes that Daddy was MIA and his room mate took Mom to the hospital. When he finally showed up it was over and he was so hopped up on Blue Vs that they threw him out or tried to admit him (depending on who you ask) but there is a consensus that he was so high he bounced/fell/teetered from one wall to the other and didnt get to see me the first night. I was small and the hospital kept me for about a week.They took me home to my Grandma's, I had a crib there and stuffed animals. When I was with my parents I slept in a brown suit case so as not to be smothered in the bed with them. The marriage did not last long after that (I can tell you are all shocked) But that doesnt count as how I got here, more on that later. So there you go, the story of the start of me.
What to do
I started this blog with the intention of it being a online diary, but I have an issue, once it is out here in the great wide world I can never take it back. So what to do? Do I use it as my impulse to start it intended or do I let my natural instinct to put on a public face rule supreme? I know that time and distance has made some of these stories funny, even in a sad way but I dont know if everyone will get that...but do I realy care? This is for my self serving sanity right?
Monday, August 27, 2012
Grandma
There are a million stories about Grandma, ones that we have told and retold for a laugh or to make the missing her dim a little. Today is just hard on me and I want to show how her heart was great, and her love for us was bigger than anything imaginable. But nothing I can say will be enough to give you an understanding to give life to her memory.
It was christmas 1999 I was pregnant and having a hard time in my life. I called her to tell her happy birthday and she knew something was the matter with me. She kept asking what was wrong and I broke down with the silliest thing, It was almost christmas and I did not have a tree yet, and oh how I cried. There were a thousand other things wrong but the only one I could express was christmas without a tree. I left for work the next day, and she went to the tree lot all the trees on the lots were tied up, you know like umbrellas. She picked one probably at random and had them tie it to the top of her car. She got it into my house while I was at work, into a stand no less. Then cut the ties off and left. When I got home from work the branches had all settled and the tree had opened up. My ENTIRE dining room was full of douglas pine. The tree was so big you could not even walk into the room. I laughed until it hurt cause I knew who had surprised me.It was so big that when it came time to take it down it had to be cut up into little peices to get back out side. She fixed the one thing that she could to make me smile, to try to make me happy. And just like always it was comedy.
She did everything she ever could for me, she would say "dont worry baby, we will figure it out". (That is my life motto.) The magic she worked to help me with my kids, to be there for us. I remember her working two jobs when I was little. I remember those awful dresses she paid too much money for to dress me like a princess, I even had hats and gloves, and one of them had little bells sewn into the pettycoat. I was her baby.
There were more times than I want to say that she helped keep the lights on at the house, or food on the table. Or if I mentioned even in passing "you know I would like to have ..." she made it happen somehow. I saw a kitchen set I liked once and she bought I peice by peice until I had the whole thing, one chair at a time. And it didnt matter to her as long as she could help me, and it wasnt about the things, it was about what she wanted for me, the kind of life she wanted me to have. No matter how hard I tried to screw it up.
She was so much to so many people and I think as you live your daily life you forget about all that has come before. She played on a bowling league I remember the blue bag her ball was in and the ugly shirts. She made doughnuts and coffee at her second job at 5 am. She worked at the mill for years, on the floor where she lost most of her hearing, then in the destruction lab. It was her job to break it (for anybody who knows that is hilaroius). She didnt speak english until she was a teenager. The story is my grandfather taught her how. (explains a lot huh) She married a hillbilly Marine from Opp Alabama cause she liked the way he sounded when he talked. (My great aunt S tells me that he thought the same about her and he liked her funny french words) She didnt get her license until her oldest daughter did. She hated the color red because it was her mom's favorite color. She had brothers and a sister. She went to catholic school. She traveled the country with my grandfather and each of her kids was born in a different state. Her best friends called her Maggie and they giggled like teenagers when they got together even though they were all well over 65. She loved ribbon candy and would eat it all but the red peices. She thought babies should be bathed atleast twice a day. She never got past the loss of her oldest daughter, even after 18 years cried for her at night sometimes. She had her first heart attack trying to work a full time job and still be there C and the kids to help them through loosing their Moma. She sat by her best friend's bed for 4 months as the cancer took Aunt N away, and was holding her hand when she went, just two old friends. She once drove herself to have surgery because she did not want to tell us she was having her toes broken on purpose because she thought they were ugly, when the nurse called us to come pick her up she was really mad that we had left her there, we didnt even know she was doing it! These are all things that make up a life. Little peices that made her special, but are by no means the whole.
I miss your smile, I miss your laugh, I miss your silly sense of humor. I miss your 5 min time delay, I miss your silly little glove, I miss how you quacked in your sleep when you snored. I miss the phone checks just to find out what everybody in our house was doing at any given moment, I miss you calling me to tell me what happened on your soaps that day. I miss your touch, I miss your smell, I miss you.
And I know it is better for you, you dont hurt anymore, you are not sick and struggling anymore. And I know I am selfish and spoiled but you did it and I want my Grandma to hold me and tell me " dont worry baby, we will figure it out". I love you, my kids love you. I miss you every day. And most days it is easier but some days it is so much harder.
One last story, Grandma was living at Mom's house and I was right down the road in this little farm house about 1/2 a mile. Moma got the Christams cards together for everybody and gave them to Grandma, she put stamps on them and drove them to the Browns Summit post office. The post man sorts them and sends them out to be delivered. He brings mine to my house and puts it in the mail box at the top of the driveway. Grandma leaves her house, drives to mine, pulls the wrong way into oncomming traffic to check my mail box, gets the card out pulls into my driveway, drives to my house honks the horn for me to come outside and get my christams card from her. how do you make up stuff like that?
It was christmas 1999 I was pregnant and having a hard time in my life. I called her to tell her happy birthday and she knew something was the matter with me. She kept asking what was wrong and I broke down with the silliest thing, It was almost christmas and I did not have a tree yet, and oh how I cried. There were a thousand other things wrong but the only one I could express was christmas without a tree. I left for work the next day, and she went to the tree lot all the trees on the lots were tied up, you know like umbrellas. She picked one probably at random and had them tie it to the top of her car. She got it into my house while I was at work, into a stand no less. Then cut the ties off and left. When I got home from work the branches had all settled and the tree had opened up. My ENTIRE dining room was full of douglas pine. The tree was so big you could not even walk into the room. I laughed until it hurt cause I knew who had surprised me.It was so big that when it came time to take it down it had to be cut up into little peices to get back out side. She fixed the one thing that she could to make me smile, to try to make me happy. And just like always it was comedy.
She did everything she ever could for me, she would say "dont worry baby, we will figure it out". (That is my life motto.) The magic she worked to help me with my kids, to be there for us. I remember her working two jobs when I was little. I remember those awful dresses she paid too much money for to dress me like a princess, I even had hats and gloves, and one of them had little bells sewn into the pettycoat. I was her baby.
There were more times than I want to say that she helped keep the lights on at the house, or food on the table. Or if I mentioned even in passing "you know I would like to have ..." she made it happen somehow. I saw a kitchen set I liked once and she bought I peice by peice until I had the whole thing, one chair at a time. And it didnt matter to her as long as she could help me, and it wasnt about the things, it was about what she wanted for me, the kind of life she wanted me to have. No matter how hard I tried to screw it up.
She was so much to so many people and I think as you live your daily life you forget about all that has come before. She played on a bowling league I remember the blue bag her ball was in and the ugly shirts. She made doughnuts and coffee at her second job at 5 am. She worked at the mill for years, on the floor where she lost most of her hearing, then in the destruction lab. It was her job to break it (for anybody who knows that is hilaroius). She didnt speak english until she was a teenager. The story is my grandfather taught her how. (explains a lot huh) She married a hillbilly Marine from Opp Alabama cause she liked the way he sounded when he talked. (My great aunt S tells me that he thought the same about her and he liked her funny french words) She didnt get her license until her oldest daughter did. She hated the color red because it was her mom's favorite color. She had brothers and a sister. She went to catholic school. She traveled the country with my grandfather and each of her kids was born in a different state. Her best friends called her Maggie and they giggled like teenagers when they got together even though they were all well over 65. She loved ribbon candy and would eat it all but the red peices. She thought babies should be bathed atleast twice a day. She never got past the loss of her oldest daughter, even after 18 years cried for her at night sometimes. She had her first heart attack trying to work a full time job and still be there C and the kids to help them through loosing their Moma. She sat by her best friend's bed for 4 months as the cancer took Aunt N away, and was holding her hand when she went, just two old friends. She once drove herself to have surgery because she did not want to tell us she was having her toes broken on purpose because she thought they were ugly, when the nurse called us to come pick her up she was really mad that we had left her there, we didnt even know she was doing it! These are all things that make up a life. Little peices that made her special, but are by no means the whole.
I miss your smile, I miss your laugh, I miss your silly sense of humor. I miss your 5 min time delay, I miss your silly little glove, I miss how you quacked in your sleep when you snored. I miss the phone checks just to find out what everybody in our house was doing at any given moment, I miss you calling me to tell me what happened on your soaps that day. I miss your touch, I miss your smell, I miss you.
And I know it is better for you, you dont hurt anymore, you are not sick and struggling anymore. And I know I am selfish and spoiled but you did it and I want my Grandma to hold me and tell me " dont worry baby, we will figure it out". I love you, my kids love you. I miss you every day. And most days it is easier but some days it is so much harder.
One last story, Grandma was living at Mom's house and I was right down the road in this little farm house about 1/2 a mile. Moma got the Christams cards together for everybody and gave them to Grandma, she put stamps on them and drove them to the Browns Summit post office. The post man sorts them and sends them out to be delivered. He brings mine to my house and puts it in the mail box at the top of the driveway. Grandma leaves her house, drives to mine, pulls the wrong way into oncomming traffic to check my mail box, gets the card out pulls into my driveway, drives to my house honks the horn for me to come outside and get my christams card from her. how do you make up stuff like that?
Miss you
Grandma, I cant sleep tonight. The problem is stress and life and things being hard right now. And I feel low, real low. I laid in bed and I talked to you for awhile in this one way conversation we have been having for 3 years now. Then I cried, some of it was for you but I am ashamed to say most of it was for me.
When you were dying and we knew it, it was a sticky grief. Like something on your skin you could not wash off, it just hung there. Through the hugs and forced laughter as we all tried to be strong for you. It was so strong I could taste it when the last words you ever said to me were how you would miss your babies, my babies most of all. When I came to your bedside for the last time and laid my head in your lap like a child and cried because I knew that you were almost gone and I would never touch you again.
Then you were gone and it was a numb pain, it was that the whole world was a little out of focus. And it took awhile for things for me to come back from there. And the pain changed again, it was a sneaky pain, life was close to normal. Everyday stuff, work, kids, homework, dinner, grades life kept on living. And I would get so excited to tell you something, first words, walking, ears pierced, oh you will love this new outfit, except your not here. But it was so strong this want of you that I forgot and even dialed the phone on more than one occasion. So I thought, ok this is how missing her is going to be. And I think that I accepted that you were gone all the way then.
But, then things got rough for us and times have gotten hard, and like you always said, if it wasn't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. And yeah, you have not always been able to fix my life but other than you dying this is the first hard time I have had without you. And hell you even talked me through you dying, I knew what you wanted, how you wanted to be remembered and I have done my very best. But what I would not GIVE to hear you say "baby what are we gonna do with you?" And I know I should be beyond this now and I should not be up at midnight wanting my Grandma to fix the world. So tonight I think its a different kind of pain, missing you mixed with some self pity. I love you and miss you. And I am struggling here, goodnight again.
When you were dying and we knew it, it was a sticky grief. Like something on your skin you could not wash off, it just hung there. Through the hugs and forced laughter as we all tried to be strong for you. It was so strong I could taste it when the last words you ever said to me were how you would miss your babies, my babies most of all. When I came to your bedside for the last time and laid my head in your lap like a child and cried because I knew that you were almost gone and I would never touch you again.
Then you were gone and it was a numb pain, it was that the whole world was a little out of focus. And it took awhile for things for me to come back from there. And the pain changed again, it was a sneaky pain, life was close to normal. Everyday stuff, work, kids, homework, dinner, grades life kept on living. And I would get so excited to tell you something, first words, walking, ears pierced, oh you will love this new outfit, except your not here. But it was so strong this want of you that I forgot and even dialed the phone on more than one occasion. So I thought, ok this is how missing her is going to be. And I think that I accepted that you were gone all the way then.
But, then things got rough for us and times have gotten hard, and like you always said, if it wasn't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. And yeah, you have not always been able to fix my life but other than you dying this is the first hard time I have had without you. And hell you even talked me through you dying, I knew what you wanted, how you wanted to be remembered and I have done my very best. But what I would not GIVE to hear you say "baby what are we gonna do with you?" And I know I should be beyond this now and I should not be up at midnight wanting my Grandma to fix the world. So tonight I think its a different kind of pain, missing you mixed with some self pity. I love you and miss you. And I am struggling here, goodnight again.
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