Speaking of Travis

Travis is very independant. I think he developed this as strategy to be different from Ryan. When I ask if I can make him something to eat or help with with something he will respond with "I can do that for myself". His tone is one that puts special emphasis on the "I" and leads you to the conclusion that others, such as his siblings, can not and more importantly, will not.

He wants to make his own sandwich, clean his own room, buy his own stuff, wire up his own speakers and sit in his room, in the quiet, watching what he wants to watch. His complete opposite ways of Ryan, who will follow me from room to room whining over and over, "Mom, I'm hungry" or call me on the home phone from his cell, while we are all in the house, to request that or something else, is the way he makes a total contrast between the two.

I worry about him. I try to tell him he doesn't have to do everything on his own and that accepting help is good at times. I do see signs of small resentment but he sets it up that way. Though I do try and seek him out, praise him, slip him extra money and invite him to join me in activities, he declines most of the time, but then can act like he is invisible to me when it serves a purpose or he wants something.

We all have our manipulative ways and as they go, his are pretty minor. He just missed the boat on whining for things. You know, the squeaky wheel thing. Life can be unfair that way, cause usually the most undeserving get what they want cause you just want them to shut up about it already. That is why I slip him the extra cash when I can.

His one major fallback is when he does, on the rare occasion, ask me for something. It is not a sandwich or anything remotely doable. He will bring me a picture of a dirt bike, a quad or a car for sale and ask if I can get it for him. Huh??? Has he detached himself so much that he doesn't know that there is no way I could possibly come up with the money or credit to buy such things?? I tell him I wish that I could so badly, but I just can't afford it. He walks away quietly, but visibly upset, hurt, deprived. Can you say "knife through a mommy's heart"???

He and Kelly have dated for a few years now and from what I can see about their relationship, I might be able to learn a few things from them. No matter what they decide to do, they are supportive of one another and never say a bad word about the other, not EVER. Maybe that is his way to contrast me and Bob..........

He is not perfect, but who is, who would want to be? He can be moody, have attitude and be hard to communicate with at times. But he does it quietly and it is appreciated, trust me!

He is well-liked by everyone, they requested by phone his return to camp before applications were even being made available because he was such a good worker and the kids loved him, he is creative and he is thoughtful and generous when you least expect it.

Thought I write less about him, it is merely because he contributes less drama than anyone else in the house. Someday I would love to reward him with one of those requests!

A New Title?

If I do not cheer up soon I will have to rename my blog because Fender Bender, though it does suggest a small, unfortunate accident, it cannot possibly cover the train wreck of depression and misery of late.

It seems some better suited titles may be...

How to Achieve Mental Illness in 10 Easy Steps

Negativity, The Dark Side of Positive

Bitch. And Bitch and Bitch and Bitch.........

Cry Me a River. Nevermind, Did it Myself.

Nobody Does it Bitter

Complaining 102: Advanced Course; Self-Paced.

Take This Blog and Shove It.

I do feel better, moodwise, this morning. Maybe because I cried myself into numbful indifference or because my eyes are so sore, they are distracting me from my bad attitude. With about 8 more hours of sleep, cucumbers for my swollen eyes and a lottery win, I think I could come out of this fairly quick. Since the only real possibility of the three is the cucumbers, it might take a few days. Or weeks.

On a happier note, I am glad Kellie was finally voted off AI. It is encouraging to know that cute, naive and hick can still take you places, regardless of extraordinary talent. I haven't played that card in awhile. Of course that card may actually disappear from your deck by age 28. I'm still all about Taylor Hicks, because in a world of kaka, poopies, he can still make me smile. (Did I just say kaka, poopies?)

Ryan has a big job interview today and may have to take that employment/personality questionaire thingy again...the one he failed two years ago and was not suitable for employment.......... at K-mart. After failing it, his aunt called to tell me that she was shocked because she never saw anyone fail it and they have a few, real knuckleheads that work there. I told him it just meant he was way too smart to work at K-mart anyway.

Yesterday I found three mystery, not my brand, cigarettes on Bob's dresser. I found out Brooke brought them to Bob when I was at darts. Upon questioning and interrogation of the three year old, she pointed out where they came from...Cassie's purse!!!!! Cassie claims they are her friend's that recently got caught smoking.... by us. It reminds of the Brady Bunch episode where the jacket switch made , umm I think it was Greg, look guilty. Expect her friend is male and doesn't carry a purse, so it is not really like that at all. Anyway, she is totally making up for the smooth, thus far, teenage years of the boys, when I thought I was the most excellent mom.

Travis, my the quiet, no drama, wonderful, sits in his room most of the evening, child has now officially become my favorite.

Yesterday, I Cried.

It was officially yesterday because it is 12:48am. I cried over breakfast, lunch and dinner, I cried in the bathroom, living room, bedroom and rec room, I cried any place I could find a place to cry in private. When everyone was home in the evening and all the rooms were occupied, I went to my car and cried. And cried and cried and cried.

When I returned from my ride of crying, I went to the living room to lay down and cried some more. There was no stopping it. I was filled to the brim, overflowing in emotion. Then I remembered something, some very vague memory I saw on Oprah. An Africian American woman that used to appear when Oprah was just starting all her spirit stuff. She talked or wrote about crying, or something like that.................

I searched, but could not satisfy google with my very general search phases. I went to a TV trivial chat and asked if anyone knew her name, as I again fired off very vague information. Someone got the right answer!! I knew the name as soon as I saw it and I found her poem..........

Yesterday I Cried

Yesterday, I cried.I came home, went straight to my room, sat on the edge of my bed,kicked off my shoes, unhooked my bra,and I had myself a good cry.I cried until my nose was running all over the silk blouse I got on sale.I cried until my ears were hot.I cried until my head was hurting so bad that I could hardly see the pile of soiled tissues lying on the floor at my feet.I want you to understand,I had myself a really good cry yesterday.

Yesterday, I cried,

for all the days that I was too busy, or too tired, or too mad to cry. I cried for all the days, and all the ways, and all the times I had dishonored, disrespected,and disconnected my Self from myself,only to have it reflected back to me in the ways others did to me the same things I had already done to myself.

I cried for all the things I had given, only to have them stolen;for all the things I had asked for that had yet to show up;for all the things I had accomplished, only to give them away,to people in circumstances, which left me feeling empty, and battered and plain old used.

I cried because there really does come a time when the only thing left for you to do is cry.

Yesterday, I cried.

I cried because little boys get left by their daddies;and little girls get forgotten by their mommies;and daddies don't know what to do, so they leave;and mommies get left, so they get mad.I cried because I had a little boy,and because I was a little girl, and because I was a mommy who didn't know what to do,and because I wanted my daddy to be there so badly until I ached

Yesterday, I cried.

I cried because I hurt. I cried because I was hurt.I cried because hurt has no place to go except deeper into the pain that caused it in the first place,and when it gets there, the hurt wakes you up. I cried because it was too late. I cried because it was time.I cried because my soul knew that I didn't know that my soul knew everything that I needed to know.I cried a soulful cry yesterday, and it felt so good.

It felt so very, very bad. In the midst of my crying, I felt my freedom coming,

Because...Yesterday, I cried with an agenda....

Iyanla Vanzant

So, anyway. I found it and there it is and why it was important to find and then bore you with is beyond me. But, boy, I had myself a good cry.

What I have Learned about Myself

I always tried to keep journals, but never had much success at keeping up with them. I thought a blog would be a good way to have one and more fun, cause I get to share it with my friends. They are like mini-updates when we get too busy to talk on the phone or get together.

What I have learned about myself from doing this is...........

1. Damn, I am miserable a lot.
2. I have too much stress
3. When you write about the biggest part of your day or the activity of your day, your life starts looking like you are more miserable than you are, that you drink more than you actaully do, and that you are way more opinionated than you actually feel you are in your daily life.
4.But, damn, I am miserable a lot.

As mothers, you feel so guilty to be unhappy because someone, especially your own self, can turn on yourself with the "You are SOOO blessed to have four, wonderful, healthy children" What the hell is the matter with you????".

You learn that your whole life's happiness cannot revolve around that fact entirely. Yes, in that area, I am blessed beyond measure. In other parts of my life, I am not. It is those parts that leave me feeling unsatisfied, restless and unpurposeful at the end of the day.

The underlying factors of my misery include a few things. One is that I cannot find a good paying job in this area. I want to be out there more, working and being successful in that way. By success I mean having enough money to pay the bills and have some left over to do things with the kids that we can't normally do, get my hair done more, get a manicure and just breath easier because I know I am not stressing about how to make ends meet every second of my life.

Another would be feeling appreciated in some small, tiny way for the things that I already do now. That working at home would not be viewed as easy and that taking care of your kids would earn you just a wee bit of respect. That someone would see your job for what it is and not for what they imagine it is, "not really like working at all".

Also, that if I can't make it all work, what message am I sending my kids? People with money and success have children that grow up to have money and success. This is just the way it seems to work and if that is true, what lifestyle am I setting my own kids up for? Sure, you encourage education and going after anything their heart desires, but at the end of it all, do they follow in your miserable footsteps? God, I hope not.

For so many years, I was hoping that the message I sent was that you can still be happy, light-hearted, and easy going when all fails and life doesn't turn out exactly as you had planned. That works for awhile and you make the very best of it with pride. Then after years of worry and watching things pass you by, a little bit of resentment starts building up and then grows into a lot of resentment. You get tired from it all and learning to be happy with what you have just won't cut it anymore. The frustration builds so high that you can't even see over it anymore to reason a way out.

This is not who I want to be anymore and yet I haven't a clue how to make the change, how to rearrange my life in a way that doesn't feel like so much of a chore anymore.

I have plenty of ideas, but no buck to back it up. It is like I am sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for opportunity to knock, but it never shows up and I don't even know how to create it for myself anymore. Maybe that is the most important thing I have learned. And that is the part that sucks the most.

I promised myself I would not edit myself or try to appear any different than what I am in writing on this journal. I started to think I should actually write some pleasant, happy little posts because who wants to be a downer all the time?? Not me. But right now, I am in a place where it feels like now or never and in order to change it I have to stop telling myself it is okay. It is not okay anymore and I can say it, bitch about it and try and work it all out in my head. I need to really feel the truth before I can change my truth. So, sorry about that, but if you want happy, you came to the wrong place today. :(

The Flood Gates have Opened. Mom is Cracking: Part 287

This whole past weekend has been a marathon of not sleeping. Bob had several things to do and a dinner to attend Saturday night, which meant, other then me leaving the house on Friday evening, there has been no real break from Brooke.

I went to bed late on Friday night, she got up early. I was with her all day Saturday, as Bob cut grass and worked on projects around the house because he was having company and wanted everything to look like he keeps up on it, which he actually does since the move. Should be a good thing, but it just leaves me dealing with the princess 24/7.

Saturday, she decided that she would not sleep. She was up until 230am, I missed most of the fun downstairs, as I read books to her,and entertained her so she would not jump all over the guests. As adorable as I know she is, guests that are drinking, relaxing and sharing old stories prefer to do it without said toddler jumping from couch to couch, making everyone sigh in fear that she will break a bone....so she was only cute for maybe 10 minutes when I had to take her away.

From there, the rest of the weekend was all a blur. Yesterday she woke up early, kept me busy all day and night, feel asleep at 3am and woke this morning at 650am. Bob worked over, came home at 930ish and went straight to bed, because he worked all day, while I got to live the easy life and deserved no sleep or relaxation. Dealing with an active, demanding toddler for 19hours straight...19 HOURS STRAIGHT...is a just a cake walk.

I hear her whining for juice and look and see the 650am. I decide it must be a horrible nightmare and just lay there in a trance for a few minutes, all the while, she is whining, now crying, now screaming..."Get me juice, I hunGEE!!" I pinch myself, it is real.

Before I can jump up to act on the demands, I feel tears streaming down my face. Uncontrollable, I am so miserable and exhausted, tears just flooding out. The build up is so strong, I fear I will sob loud and scare the b'jesus out of her. I walk upstairs to get her juice. I make a stop into the bathroom, see my tired, depressed, lack of sleep, worn out face and start another uncontrollable sob that starts in my toes and includes every muscle in my body...spasms of tears erupt from each one.

I get myself under control enough to deliver her juice. She is all cozy now, watching Sponge Bob, I go back upstairs and relieve some more build up with more tears. Yet , instead of a release, I feel more desperate and start going through a list in my head of someone to call, anyone to call and just give me a tiny, little break, watch Brooke for me so that I can just rest for a small amount of time...I go to grab a smoke and see that I have one left. One lousing shot of nicotine will never get me through this..I call Bob, he is "too busy" and will bring me some in about twenty five minutes, that was an hour ago.

Now I sit here knowing that I will be working soon, knowing that dragging Brooke out to get cigarettes will start the toddler trantrum, cause you don't dare take the child anywhere for only 5 minutes. The 3 hours of screaming and crying when you get back of "wanna go bye-byes!!" is so not worth it. So, I am stuck. Stuck in more ways than I can possibly count. Stuck in ways that makes you wake up in tears. Mommy is having a mini-breakdown and ain't nobody gonna save her. God, I hope he gets here soon with the smokes. A pathetic habit, for sure, but one that never lets me down. My friend that says take a deep breath, inhale and relax....all better now. Until it kills me.

Ryan, College and Is He Ever Sober?

Ryan is sleeping is his room. He came home for the night because he didn't have any classes today. I was watching Barney with Brooke when I spotted his laptop near by. Thought I would get a post in and just browse around, cause Barney is on my last nerve.

I realized on this computer I have a whole new set of "My Pictures", that are totally not my pictures. What I did not realize is that each and every one would feature my perfect son Ryan either with a beer in hand or looking as though he just had 20 of them.



When he says he worked really hard on a paper and didn't the get the good grade he was expecting, I know what he was doing instead. And. Every picture that features a girl, features a different girl. I guess his claim of having no steady girlfrind is true, but this one looks semi-serious...at least for that evening............. and she does appear in two pictures. Hmmmmmmm. Nah, probably not. He insists that he has no interest in spending his "free years" tied down to a girlfriend, when, after marriage, he will have to spend the rest of his life with a woman. Momma didn't raise no dummy....well, for the most part anyway..................










That is one side of Ryan. When I get back to my computer I have proof of other sides. The sides that make you beam with pride......

Like Mother, Like Daughter.

How much does it totally suck when you see your kids having the exact same qualities that you have, the bad ones, the "these will make your life so freakin' miserable "ones???

My daughter is like a little carbon copy of me when I was her age. Well, not exactly, but damn close. I was not as bold as she is in the talking back department and I feared for my life more when it concerned going a bit too far with my parents. But the thought processes, oh, the thought processes are so similiar, you might as well call then IDENTICAL!

She has a strong need for "fair" and yet can only see her side of fair. She will fight for 3 hours about different races and that no one is any different than anyone else, just like I did. She goes to bed and worries about everyone dying and dreams up horrid situations that "could" happen, just like I did. She is creative, which only makes her ability to dream up the most drastic and hideous "coulds" in the world even more disturbing. She sees the past in negative aspects and she blames everyone else for everything that is wrong with HER.... "If you had only taken me to the mall that one day in 2002, when you said you would, but then woke up with a 102.5 temperture, vomitting, I might not feel so unloved and maybe I would not have done that thing you asked me not to do today". Huh? (Just like I would have said) But also, I lived that crazy shit at that age too and I stopped living that crazy shit about three years ago. I get her, but I can't change it. She knows more than me, just like I knew more than anyone else that tried to straighten out my f'ed up head.

I thought "acting" like none of those things were true about me in the past, brushing off her feelings with positive comments and great advice on how to change your outlook would be so helpful, cause I , like , did that already, so why the hell can't you just listen cause I know where this will lead you and it totally sucks. It isn't working, just like it didn't work when my mother tried the same thing on me cause "she just didn't understand and I know everything". Can you say "pay back is a bitch"???

I thought long and hard about what to do with her and Bob and I had a long talk about being more positive with her, making her feel more special and important, and just helping her to plan out enjoyable activities, other than sitting around imagining how each person may die and how everyone has done her wrong and "made her this way".

We finished several projects we had told her we would, but never got around to yet, in her room. We made a decision that no matter how loud she yells and carries on, we will try to remain calm and deal with her in a way that may serve as an example on how to actually cope and handle your negative emotions......... Right after that, we are going to Wonderland for some tea and cake.

I guess we all have to suffer to learn our lessons in life. It is just so hard when you know a shortcut that someone refuses to take. Just like we all refused to take before them.

If I could cut her down from the 35 years it took me to get it, I guess that would be some progress, but for now, I do not see it happening anytime soon. Sigh..................

The Night in Darts

Last night I went to darts, as I would any other Wenesday, and saw not one, but two people I graduated with that I have not seen in many,many years. What are the chances of that?

Both have slight romantic ties, very slight, but still ties, none the less. The first was a guy I met in junior high. His dad was the principal and the object of my affection. Yes. The dad. I had a secret crush on my school prinipal, right at the budding of my puberty. He was my first fantasy subject involving sex. We made out in the science closet, on his desk and in empty classrooms after school hours. How embarrassing to admit it now, because he looked like a giant ape. The only thing I can be thankful about this morning is that I did not drink enough to decide it would be a good idea to tell his son how I made up these fantasies about his dad. Yeeks, yuck and icky icky!

The other was someone that I actually did go out with a few times and kissed a few times too. We seemed to have a mutual crush that neither acted on prior to the dates because we were always involved with someone else. I remember him well because it was such a mystery why we always seemed to be otherwise occupied on someone else when the other became "available". After the two times we did end up going out after parties, we both started dating our regular bf, gf again.

We talked for about fifteen minutes and though he looked quite different, I still saw the guy from high school, despite his life-worn appearance. He hugged me before he left and said "I still love ya,(take special note of tha "ya", that means in a friendship way cause my wife would kill me) you still have the prettiest face, just like you did back then. I had such a crush on you!". Okay, maybe he was drinking or something, but it still made me feel good. So, shut up.

And to my friend, Susan, you stupid bitch. You know I love you more than my fake tanner. I would have driven you home. I tried to drive you home, after half-joking I wouldn't.. It just so happened I was talking with JP about being stopped so many times on my way home and how paranoid it makes me everytime I leave, explaining why I am always closer to sober than drunk on dart nights. He was possibily insisting you go with him for ME, cause I still have such a pretty face and junk. My old boyfriend said so!!

Shut up!!!!

This and That.

I talk about several things here, but then they sort of drop off without explaination or updates. Obviously I sold my house, on land contract....not what I wanted, but at least someone else is making the payment.

SIL from hell update. She called about 6 days after the incident, Bob and SIL had words, she denied everything(big surprise), have not spoken since. I really hope she gets her life together one day and that she realizes that when everyone backs away, you can't cry victim forever and blame the world, you have to get smart enough to see that YOU are the problem.

I am starting to adjust well to the new house. I still hate my bedroom cause it is hot and cramped and smaller than my old one and it doesn't circulate air well and is stuffy and other junk like that.

My last post came into question by more than one of my friends and I wanted to clear up that it was not directed at anyone,including myself. Sometimes I just take issue with generalizations and have to get on my soapbox and pick them apart. So. Anyway. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

I am getting my Easter pictures developed tomorrow and hopefully can share some before the end of the week. We had a really good time and it was great hanging out with family from both sides. There was so much food, my frig is still packed with leftovers that will be raccoon food by tomorrow, cause I sick a da shit. Time to dump it out!

I am still upset when anyone mentions Kenny Rogers and I may need some counseling over it all. I am upset that Kellie is seemingly getting most of the votes on AI, and I really need to, also, look into getting a life.....after the finale.

Brooke was always a "true princess", but now has a week or more worth of princess wardrobe. Not just the dresses either, she has several princess shoes and crowns as well. Her birthday party was great and she now, officially, has 10 times more shit than anyone else in the house. She is quite pleased.

Time for AI!!!

Does Anyone Ever Really Fit Perfectly?

My friend sent me a link to a blog.(www.shewalks.blogspot.com) The entry that I refer to is D-I-V-O-R-C-E. I put it in the link field, but never did that before, so hopefully it works...whatever.

ANYHO, I read it and I may be getting a bit too no nonsense about things because comparing relationships to shoes, though it makes a good point and all, is hittting home, but then, so NOT hitting home at the same time. You can find a pair of shoes that fit perfectly, but in the real world, this reality, can you find a man that does? Should you even expect to??

I have had many relationships in the past, maybe not as many as other people, but I have been married twice and had a few serious boyfriends prior to that. By not thinking that anyone "fit perfectly", does that mean I have not found the right one yet? Or does that mean "it ain't happenin' sistah" because it simply can not?

I know there are, seemingly, very happy couples out there. I have heard about these people, have even experienced them in public, around others, being, you know.......happy. They are as rare as a 300 million dollar power ball hit, but there are some out there...I think. But what makes them happy? Is it that they are perfectly matched, no flaws that make the other want to grind nails with their teeth? Or. Could it be. They accept the other human, as human? They love them enough and there is enough good, to make the bad parts lovable anyway? Like an old ragged, imperfect teddy bear that is still great for snuggling.

The older I get , the more I relaize and see that life is 99.9% perception. It would be quite easy to live life finding all the crap, focusing on it, making it giant and impossible to overcome. Hell, I have done that for years. When it comes to life, it takes very little work to make it as hard as possible. Then it just takes a mindset to keep it that way.....forever.

If my day has thirty minutes of "bad', that is the part I will recite to my friends. That is what I will bitch about and that is what I will make the legacy of that day, etched in time, forever. I can even add a humorous spin to it, but the point I will be dragging home is the "bad", oh, how very bad that part sucked.

Then bad starts growing and you start lining it up through the days and weeks and months of your life, highlighting it with your yellow marker, making it stand out. Making it seem like that is all there is anymore.

Don't we do the same thing with the relationships in our life? If we hit on why it now "just doesn't fit", is it truly because we bought the wrong size or did we manipulate it to leave blisters?

I have never, in my entire life, met anyone, friend, family member, offspring, neighbor, butcher, baker, candlestick maker, that doesn't have some aspect to their personality that gets under my skin at different times. I keep the least offending ones around maybe, but the truth is, everyone has something that rubs everyone else the wrong way on occasion. It is just a fact of life. So, why do we expect the "relationship person" in our life to be any different?

There are major deal breakers out there that someone can pull on you making a divorce not only a possibility, but a must. I am not arguing that point at all. But is chewing too loud one of them? Is not changing to meet your exact specifications one? Seems so. But then, you move on to your next "falsely perfect" person and when you come out of the exciting, new love, phooney crap, they chew too loud too.

I wonder how many times a spouse is blamed for someone else's unhappiness. When you are unhappy, it is always easier to blame someone else, how everything they do makes you wanna scream, how your life would be fine if it were not for........... them. If we took more responsibility for our own happiness, looked at life with more realistic minds , truly accpeted others and changed our shitty ass perceptions on everything, would there be less divorce? Or would that be just too hard? Too much work, and, damn, I'm just too tired and miserable already to even attempt it.

I don't know what the answer is, but if you want a man to fit like your favorite, broken-in jeans or your most comfortable pair of shoes, you are setting yourself up for massive disappointment. Maybe when you're back out on the market, because everything in your closet doesn't fit anymore, you should skip the purchase and work on yourself.

Just a thought......

A Rush Through of Random Crap

Wednesday, felt bad. Played darts. Got to laugh at my goofy friend dance with a hair piece placed in varies, humerous spots. Had fun.

Thursday, watched Oprah, was inspired by the show, so I went shopping. Felt much better.

Friday, went to my mom's, made up easter baskets there and ate lots of wheat, pretzel thingies. Cleaned the whole house. Shopped some more without checking balance of account, figured I would deal with it later.

Dealt with it later by having a few beers while Ryan had some friends over, who were cooking steaks at 2am in my kitchen. Went to bed at 3am, Brooke saw froggies at 305am and was screaming in horror...again. Took an hour to get her back to sleep. Feel like shit.

Sent Bob shopping as I watch the hours pass today, too tired to get a bath or do any of the things I have to do to get ready for tomorrow. May take a nap, or if that fails, may be a cranky bitch and continue to watch hours pass while I do nothing, still.

The end.

The Storm Before the Calm

(Warning: This post may damage your mood)

I was talking to a friend last night about being down. Really down. I know I have to stop all this negativity, but sometimes it seems like I am looking at a black wall trying to find a bright spot. One little dot of color amoungst the dark just to find something to feel content, some little ray of hope or anything to counteract all the stuff getting to me right now.

So many things are bothering me it feels like everything and nothing. It isn't just one thing, but so many things that it is just hard to figure out where to start. How to begin to stop being annoyed, tired, overwhelmed and stuck. And, oh, how I hate being stuck.

Spring is here, and as I have mentioned, golf season is in full swing. Brooke is going to bed later and later and my Dad is calling earlier and ealier, waking her up, waking me up and making a very yucky start of a day for two very cranky, tired gals.

When the phone rang at 703am this morning, after I was up til after 2am, it was like torture. I couldn't seem to come to enough to get up and answer it and he let it ring and ring and ring and ring. Then after about 60 rings, it stopped. Just as I start drifting back into a cozy sleep state, it rings 60 more times and I have to give in. I have to drag my tired ass to the phone. By this time, it has awoken Brooke and as I go to do whatever chore he has requested, she is following behind me, crying from waking up too early, whining for cereal and juice, and feeling miserable.

Her crankiless just intensifies as the day goes on. With it comes major demands, cries if demands are not met, cries when demands are met, lots and lots of crying. While the demands and crying marathon are peaking, so are my work calls for the day. I strain to hear what people are saying, I apologize, I try to juggle both and I try to just merely survive without losing my freakin' mind.

I pass by the mirror and see this ugly, worn out looking face. Tired eyes and my face seemingly froze into a hopeless, stressed out looking state. Messy hair, unkept fingernails that need filed, and an aging, bitter person looking back at me.

I call the bank, get my checking account balance, stress over that balance and then try and figure out who will be left unpaid, how to get things into a budget, hand Travis twenty bucks for a movie, Cassie five for a trip to Mcdonalds with friends, Bob ten for gas and then figure out who else is not going to get paid because now my whole plan is screwed.

That is so not who I want to be. I also realize that being down magnifies all this depressive crap. I struggle for a way out. I try and stay busy doing things around the house, playing on the back patio with Brooke and just falsing playing the "things are fine" role. Constantly reassuring myself that this to shall pass, but then secretly wondering if it ever really will.

Okay, I got it out. That is a start, right? Now I just try and do better. I force happiness until I actually get to it. At least that is the plan for now. I can do this, have done it before, will do again and all that pep talk shit. I will write about cute puppies, flowers and newborn babies entering this fabulous world of hope and possibility tomorrow.

It COULD happen!!

Not Gettin' My Groove Back.

For the months that it took to get the houses ready to either move out of or move into, I have been focused on nothing else. I can't remember the last time I went out to dinner or went out on a weekend to have a good time. It continues here as we work on Cassie's new room and get caught up on projects in every room of the house. My back-ordered loveseat is coming today, which will certainly force me to have to move junk around. Our couch-potato life is over. I miss it.

Something strange happened since we moved in here. There seems to be endless things to do. It is hard to explain, but the cleaning up is constant. Maybe it is the new house thing, always trying to make it look decent. We are all guilty. Brooke cleans up, Cassie cleans up, Travis was running the vacuum yesterday in the downstairs, it is like a cleaning virus has infected all of us! That should be a good thing, right? Then why the hell do I miss the easy-going, let it pile up til we have to clear a path days?

I never have more than a basket of dirty laundry. With the laundry room right off the rec room, it makes people want to wash clothes. That room almost screams out to you as you sit to watch a program. I still haven't located half of my own clothes since the move, but I know that wherever they are, they are clean.

I'm ready to go back out again with my friends, have a beer and maybe even a hangover. Lay around the next morning, letting things go, watching movies all day and not worrying about cleaning this or washing that. Talking on the phone about going out the night before, reassuring each other that "No, you did NOT make a fool of yourself". I am ready to go to a nice dinner where someone else prepares it, serves it and cleans it up.

It isn't going to be this weekend. I am having the Easter festivities here and the guest list is multiplying like rabbits. We will celebrate Brooke's birthday too. What started at 20 members of my family has now grown to ten more on my side of the family and at least nine on Bob's side. A few friends will be stopping by as well. I am actually looking forward to it though. I love a full house, it makes me feel good.

The following weekend, I am going to go out. I have to go out. I have to stop all this responsible, normal stuff. It is bad and it is the recipe for lonely, depressed housewife syndrome. I do so much better with hangover, guilt-ridden mom once a month. It works for me.

Stupid Girl

This is my evidence to Cassie, who tried to say she WASN'T a "stupid girl". But seriously, we all had a good laugh at this one and , thank goodness, she is a good sport. He he he.



Maybe if I act like that,









that guy will call me back













What a paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl















Baby if I act like that,


flipping my blonde hair back















Push up my bra like that,














I don't wanna be a stupid girl

Sum-buddy saw da EEE-ser Bunny Today.

We took Brooke to see the Easter Bunny at a little event they had at the Rec Center. A little event that brings greedy little brats who learned well from their greedy, big, free-loading, no class parents.

Can you take a guess on....if something pissed me off or not?

Because it rained, the event had to be held inside. Plastic eggs with treats, coupons for a free frosty or a prize number were scattered in different rooms for the various ages. Brooke was put with the 1-2 year olds because she is three days shy of 3...PLUUUUU-ease!

Let me tell you a little about the 1 and 2 year old room. It included a little girl that was just about a year old. I had no problem with her, it was her mom and grandmother that I wanted to slap with a big ,honkin' carrot. These crazy b*tches leave the room with not one shopping bag, but two, overflowing with plastic eggs. It wasn't about the cute,little girl picking up HER eggs, in fact they were not aware of her, obviously, as they stole eggs from small toddlers. After their seize and attack on the room, Brooke had about ten eggs to their hundreds.

Every single egg Brooke picked up, every last one of her ten little eggs, had a frosty coupon in it. Briona had all candy treats in her's. Brooke was looking at the little purple coupons like "What the hell. Where my candy, people??"

We then went to the gym for lunch, with the easter bunny, where anyone that got a ticket with a number could claim their prize at that time. The prizes where giant stuffed animals, big easter baskets filled with toys and candy, and one bike for the lucky winner. Those evil egg hogs were at the table right in front of us with three winning tickets! They got a giant purple unicorn, a big, white stuffed bear( and I am not talking cheap, carnival stuffed animals, but pretty, soft, enormous ones) and a giant easter basket.

Again, Brooke got ten coupons for a free frosty. Next year, Mamaw is soooooooooo coming with us, and possibly four of my closest friends. Brooke WILL get a PRIZE!!! This is war!!

Botox in the Stream

You gotta know when to lift 'em,
know when to tuck 'em
Know when to inject 'em
And know when to NOT!!!!

Holy Shit. I am still freaking out about Kenny Rogers. I searched "Kenny Rogers, facelift" and found I am not alone in the horror. That if it was not for hearing his voice, you would not know this was even him. Others are shocked and freaked out too.

Kenny, you are not a chick, line and wrinkles are "character" on a guy, for Christ's sake! Rugged, weather-worn, leather-like skin, they are all perfectly acceptable for a guy, even sexy!

This is Kenny Rogers....

The salt and pepper looking coloring of his hair and beard, the dark, thick brows, the texture of a normal looking face. He traded that for this????????

Oh, Kenny, you hurt me bad. Leave the tight-skinned, botox look for Joan Rivers. Bad, Kenny, very bad.

Okay, so I am not even a giant Kenny fan, though I did see his Chrsitmas show this year, but the ruining of a perfectly good face, it makes me mad. I am not even sure why, but, damn, I'm pissed.

Plastic surgery might be useful in obtaining a younger looking you, but when YOU are no longer recognizable, it went wrong...so wrong.

I'll shut up now, but, geezeeeeeeeeeeeee, why, Kenny, whyyyyyyyyyyyyy????

Confessions of a Reality Junkie.

(Sovereign 7,minus Michael)

I don't watch them ALL or anything, but I do get quite addicted to a few that I will come out of the closet on. I am addicted to Real World/Road Rules challenges. The Gauntlet 2 just wrapped up on MTV and I was there from episode one to the final show of cast bashing one another. They are such a group of self-promoting, self-humiliating ho's, that I just can't seem to get enough of and I love to watch all the strong personalities clash, the bizarre "hook-ups" and the crazy fights.

Big Brother. Big Brother is very, very bad for me. I was so caught up in last season that I actually purchased the livefeed and sat to the wee hours of the night watching these people locked up in a house, listening to stupid conversations, switching from one camera to another and chatting with other addicts all the while. I jumped up and down when The Sheep got their's and I cheered for anything good that happened to the Sovereign 7. I was so into this reality that I was losing touch with mine! Yes, very, very bad for me. "What up, Kaysar!!" and "Bye, bye bitches" became part of my vocabulary and I even took to yelling it at the TV screen. Thank God, the season ended and any intervention needed to rescue me was unecessary. I seriously think watching that again could be bad news for me.....but, knowing me, I will anyway.

I watch" The Apprentice", but this year it is not capturing my attention as it has in the past. With Bryce being fired this week, I am pretty much done. I am just not seeing a standout leader that I am really pulling for this year and the one possibility just left. So, whatever, Donald, you're fired!

"American Idol" is also a buzz kill for me this season. I love Taylor Hicks and I do tune in to see what he will do next, but the others, though there are some pretty good singers, just aren't doin' it for me this year. I still tune in weekly or borrow a tape to see what happened when I miss it playing darts, but the old excitement is gone. Oh, and last night, Kenny Rogers, umm...what happened to his face? A good example of plastic surgery gone bad? His eyebrows looked better in Texas, now he has them pulled up into Maine and damn, it scary!

With the countless reality shows on, four addictions are not so bad. Especially since two of the four are not even "must watches" anymore. But soon Big Brother 7 will appear and some asshole will infuriate me, I will totally cheer for the other alliance and damn, it will be all over for me...again. WOW..I can hardly wait!!

Finally, Some B-day Pics.

A month and a half later, one set is developed and the other set, I'm sure is lost forever in the move. Fortunately, this is the more sober of the two.

Okay, there are definitely too many candles on this cake, I demand a recount...... as I remove a few while y'all do that.

Okay, I will wear the silly mask too, but just til I blow out the candles and I will hold it in place, only!"

"Please fetch the powder, thy royal neck is getting itchy!"

"All this, for moi????"

"Oh, its for mommy....WHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

" I rarely, drink or smoke. "

"And I NEVER kiss guys while under the influence!"

Ahhhhhhh Joey, on the left. "I'm sick of posing for pictures, when can we start shakin' our tail feathers?"

Right after this one....

Me, the Un-Informed.

Lately I have noticed that when people start talking about anything going on in the world, current events, the big news stories, the latest bands and songs, and, basically, anything to do with the grown up world....I am clueless.

I did get caught up in the miner story and watched the whole unfolding of "12 are alive" to only one survivor, because I happened to have insomnia that night and I was up all alone, being a grown up. Other than that, I know nothing of the goings on in the world, the hottest new fashion designer and am still quite amazed at the square nail filing of the professional manicure, I still file mine in the oval way, when I get around to it, which isn't often.

Most people are addicted to new shows, as I am watching on demand, viewing episodes of "Sex and the City" for the first time, getting emotionally caught up in the "Big" drama and calling friends to discuss it as they sit thinking that was sooooooooooo three years ago, maybe longer. Remember, I am clueless.

Other people are watching exciting story lines upfold on any number of current shows that I have not seen at all. I am watching "Swiper the fox" steal shit from Dora and Boots, Barney hyponotize very strange and happy children with songs and oozing kindness, and Cookie Monster try to gobble down cookies as they all fly out of his mouth. The last full length feature I watched was the Sponge Bob movie.

Yup, that is the one.

I have a stack of books I want to read and yet all I seem to read these days are stories about dressing yourself, potty training and good manners. Those are the ones with a plot, many are just pictures and shapes that I point to and clap when Brooke recites each one and gets it right. I make up many stories that start with "One upon a time..." and include a beautiful princess named "Brooke" that makes her giggle and clap for me.

I remember when Cassie left for Kindergarten and I was lost. It was the first year in our county that they went to the full day. I was alone from 830am-230pm. I didn't have to read stories, watch cartoons. or make up fairytales. I imagined it being so great, to watch grown up shows, do my errands, get things done around the house, undisturbed. Turns out I didn't have many errands, the grown up shows were less fun and I missed the company. What I thought was freedom was quite lonely instead.

Isn't that always the way? Wherever we are, we looked forward to being somewhere else. When we get somewhere else, we miss where we used to be.

This time around I think I will make an effort to enjoy it more. I have been in the grown up world full-time in the past and it isn't all its cracked up to be, that place where all kids want to go. "I can't wait til I am grown up and can do whatever I want". They never realize how untrue that really is and that you can't skip down the road, roll down a hill or do flips in the front yard anymore. When you have a toddler by your side, all these activities are accpetable again.

So, I may not know what is going on around me all the time, but I can go to the park and swing as high as I want and I can escape to a kinder, happier place and maybe, just maybe, ignorance IS bliss.

Return of The SIL from Hell. Wide Screen.

It was all planned out, a night of relaxing fun with some friends.......

It was all f'ed by SIL from HELL!!!

I am completely convinced she circles my house, looking for cars, guests, parties of some sort that she has, purposely, NOT been invited. It seems too much a coincidence that moments after guests arrive, she calls. She not only calls to say hello, she calls with a specific question, asking as though she knows the answer, willing me to tell the truth..."So, is ANYONE at YOUR house tonight????" Gulp.........................

"well....yeah.".

A moment later I am breaking the news to my guests, knowing I will be met with sighs of a night ruined, a good time monoplized by nasty talk, ignorance, conflict and "please feel sorry for me and while you're at it feed me too".

She sings loud, not to mention horridly. She spills beers, has broken glass objects, smokes constantly, burns carpets with her cigarettes, talks about sex in a way that could make a pervert blush, she cusses like a sailor, is inappropiate, she belches and farts, talks about her belches and farts, and is the loudest and most obnoxious human ever created.

And she showed up............

Instead of a night that usually goes on to the wee hours of the night, it made 11pm seem late, people were worn out from her, people were ready to leave, people were fed up and realized the night could not be saved...the bitch wasn't goin' anywhere.

By a little after 12 midnight, the rec room was clear, except for her. I was making up a bed for Cassie and Kayla, hoping she would get the hint that we are all going to bed now. Kelly, "my bestest, good friend bubba", had left the rec room for the peace and quiet of the living room and then headed to bed in Brooke's room. Bob even tried to get her out after she announced "you have NO idea what is like to be alone", by telling her to go home anyway.

I get into bed, Bob and I start talking about her as I expressed my concern of her being alone with two young girls downstairs. Suddenly, I hear someone in the bathroom, someone getting very sick. It seems to go on for a very long time, so long, in fact, that we decide it must be SIL from hell throwing up her two cases of beer and any food in eyeshot at our house that she scarfed down like a pig. It stops. Ten minutes later ,it stats again. A part of me is relieved that she is not with the girls, another part is becoming freaked out by her insanity and I start feeling as though I must get her out of the house. We decided that she is not dying here and after the second round of vomitting stops, we must find a way to get her the hell out.

Bob walks out into hallway to find the mystery vomitter...who is not SIL from hell...but "my bestest, good friend, bubba". Kelly!!, who caught the flu bug. Now I feel terrible. I would have tried to offer assistance, held her hair out of her face to vomit, got her a warm rag for her forehead...you know, all that stuff you do for vomitting friends, but not vomitting SIL's from hell.

I, then realize, SIL from hell is on the loose, saying and doing God knows what. I learn what she has been doing, or more like, saying, to my 13 year old daughter. She was offering her a place to bring boys, her apartment, telling her about sex, not like the birds and the bees kind of talk you have with your daughter, but the nasty, filthy kind from a porn site. She offered her a place to "do it", she offered to buy her beer for the place, smokes, anything she wanted. She told her she would get her birth control and she would have a place to do as many different boys as she wished,and that we, "her parents", would not understand and that she was perfectly in her right to do these things. WTF?????? My THIRTEEN year old daughter!!??!! Can you say not only crossed the line, but jumped a million miles OVER that son of a bitch!!!

My anger was all-consuming, I was up most of the night trying to find ways to justify NOT killing her. Listing all the reasons that serving prison time was not worth it, that SHE was not worth it. She was forced to leave, she had no confusion about that, but how long would this last? How long til she calls back and acts like nothing happened,. cause, like, she "doesn't remember any of that"??? How long til I have to tell her that she is NEVER welcome in THIS house again, her house, that we have on a land contract, EVER again?? How long until she gets this news and tries to ruin my life, burn my house down in a drunken rage, get her house back or hurt me and my family?

She already spent all of last week crying in bars, drunk and pathetic, asking people how she can get her home back, the home we put thousands of dollars into to make livable after she nearly destoyed it, the home she couldn't afford to keep, the home she begged us to take over, and the home that is "MINE now, you f'in psycho!!"

So, anyway, that was my weekend. By next weekend, I predict I will be in the slammer or heavily medicated, preferably the latter.