Recent research shows that there are 7 kinds of sex:
The 1st kind of sex is called: Smurf Sex.
This kind of sex happens when you first meet someone and you both
have sex until you are blue in the face.
The 2nd kind of sex is called: Kitchen Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for a short time and
you are so horny you will have sex anywhere, even in the kitchen.
The 3rd kind of sex is called: Bedroom Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for a long time. Your
sex has gotten routine and you usually have sex only in your bedroom.
The 4th kind of sex is called: Hallway Sex.
is is when you have been with your partner for too long. When you
pass each other in the hallway you both say "screw you."
The 5th kind of sex is called: Catholic Sex,
This means you get Nun in the morning, Nun in the afternoon and Nun
at night.
The 6th kind is called Courtroom Sex:
This is when you cannot stand your husband any more. He takes you to
court and screws you in front of everyone.
And last, but not least, the 7th kind of sex is called: Social
Security Sex. You get a little from time-to-time, but not enough to
live on.
TW: Abuse/SA/Language/Suicide/Death A place to put down my thoughts about my past and current place to deal with my trauma and healing.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Being A Parent
Every night I come home from work and sit down at my computer to read the news. I keep hoping for some good news, something that someone did just out of kindness or some heroic measure that someone took for another and despite the holiday season, I see nothing.
I have been following the story of two adoptive/foster parents who are being accused of child abuse for caging their children at night.
They claim that the children were a danger to themselves and to one another. They claim that this was done for their own safety. Not only did they cage the children, but they also forced one boy to sleep for eighty-one days in a bathtub because he had a bed wetting problem.
Now I have a serious issue with this. I have a child who had a bed wetting issue and here is what I did at night when she woke up cold and crying. I got up, ran a warm bath for her, changed her sheets and put on clean blankets before sweeping her out of the tub and back into bed, all the while telling her that accidents happen and she was still my angel. For almost a year this was our nightly ritual. Then, a light bulb went off and I started waking her up in the middle of the night and walking her to the bathroom. I won't say she's never had an accident since then, but they are few and far between.
Was it tiring? Yes. Was it frustrating? Hell yes. Where there times I just wanted to sleep through it? Oh yeah. But you see, this is what parenting is all about. Helping your children find a way to overcome this kinds of things, and teaching them how to deal with it if it can't be overcome.
Where the hell was the state in this case? Why did they accept more children if they couldn't handle the ones they had without putting them in cages with alarms and chicken wire? Let me tell you why, because the state needed a place to put them, and they were willing to pay.
Many people think that foster homes that do this to their charges are few and far between. Let me tell you, as I was a foster child, having lived in about fourteen different foster homes, this is the normal. I can recall being drug out of my bed before the sun came up, being given a piece of toast and shoved outside to weed the garden as a punishment for talking out of turn. I can recall having a fork poked into my elbow hard enough to draw blood because I put my elbows on the table during dinner. I can recall sitting in a corner for the three hours every Sunday that they entertained dinner after church and being pointed at and compared to a dog.
I am sure that there are some foster homes out there that love the children that come into their lives. I am sure that some of these foster parents go into it because they want to make a difference, but they are the exception, not the rule.
I am going to go up now and kiss each of my sleeping children and whisper how much I love them into their ears. Perhaps they will sleep peacefully knowing that they are loved, cherished and protected by the people they expect to do so. I am going to go up and be a parent.
I have been following the story of two adoptive/foster parents who are being accused of child abuse for caging their children at night.
They claim that the children were a danger to themselves and to one another. They claim that this was done for their own safety. Not only did they cage the children, but they also forced one boy to sleep for eighty-one days in a bathtub because he had a bed wetting problem.
Now I have a serious issue with this. I have a child who had a bed wetting issue and here is what I did at night when she woke up cold and crying. I got up, ran a warm bath for her, changed her sheets and put on clean blankets before sweeping her out of the tub and back into bed, all the while telling her that accidents happen and she was still my angel. For almost a year this was our nightly ritual. Then, a light bulb went off and I started waking her up in the middle of the night and walking her to the bathroom. I won't say she's never had an accident since then, but they are few and far between.
Was it tiring? Yes. Was it frustrating? Hell yes. Where there times I just wanted to sleep through it? Oh yeah. But you see, this is what parenting is all about. Helping your children find a way to overcome this kinds of things, and teaching them how to deal with it if it can't be overcome.
Where the hell was the state in this case? Why did they accept more children if they couldn't handle the ones they had without putting them in cages with alarms and chicken wire? Let me tell you why, because the state needed a place to put them, and they were willing to pay.
Many people think that foster homes that do this to their charges are few and far between. Let me tell you, as I was a foster child, having lived in about fourteen different foster homes, this is the normal. I can recall being drug out of my bed before the sun came up, being given a piece of toast and shoved outside to weed the garden as a punishment for talking out of turn. I can recall having a fork poked into my elbow hard enough to draw blood because I put my elbows on the table during dinner. I can recall sitting in a corner for the three hours every Sunday that they entertained dinner after church and being pointed at and compared to a dog.
I am sure that there are some foster homes out there that love the children that come into their lives. I am sure that some of these foster parents go into it because they want to make a difference, but they are the exception, not the rule.
I am going to go up now and kiss each of my sleeping children and whisper how much I love them into their ears. Perhaps they will sleep peacefully knowing that they are loved, cherished and protected by the people they expect to do so. I am going to go up and be a parent.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
A Return
Wow, I must say I have been out of bloggerland far too long. As I sat down to sort myself out this morning, the first thing I did was to go through and visit all of my old haunts. Let me tell you, there were not many of them left anymore, those that are, seemed to have given up on me and removed me from their listing. The good news is that, I have returned, and I have completed an actual college course dedicated to writing, hopefully it will help me to tell my stories a little better.
I have been gone a long time because I became afraid to write here. It seemed to no longer be a safe place for me and every post seemed to take so much out of me. I make no promises that I won't need to take more time off, but I do intend to tell my story.
I had thought for a while that I would separate my sex life from my daily and past life so that eventually my children would be able to come here and read what I write. I think I may still do that, but it is something far in the future to think about.
Life has been busy here in my little corner of the world. I have completed my second semester of classes and am only one year away from getting my degree. I am still struggling with my bi-polar disorder and Chris is here, still loving me the way that he always has. I am working long hours at my job and trying to get ready for Christmas, which is going to be very small this year.
My mother is still a pain in my ass with her judgmental views of me, while firmly clinging to the blinders she uses to see my brothers. Everyday I pray that I never treat my children as unfairly has she has my brothers and me.
The children are all doing as well as can be expected. The daughter is nearing fourteen and my fear that she will step into my life is overwhelming. If we can get her to eighteen without a pregnancy we'll be doing well. Thankfully I know she isn't having sex yet, simply because her grades have kept her grounded to the house nearly all year long.
It is time to repack my bags and begin my journey yet again into the past. I hope that you will all walk beside me once again.
I have been gone a long time because I became afraid to write here. It seemed to no longer be a safe place for me and every post seemed to take so much out of me. I make no promises that I won't need to take more time off, but I do intend to tell my story.
I had thought for a while that I would separate my sex life from my daily and past life so that eventually my children would be able to come here and read what I write. I think I may still do that, but it is something far in the future to think about.
Life has been busy here in my little corner of the world. I have completed my second semester of classes and am only one year away from getting my degree. I am still struggling with my bi-polar disorder and Chris is here, still loving me the way that he always has. I am working long hours at my job and trying to get ready for Christmas, which is going to be very small this year.
My mother is still a pain in my ass with her judgmental views of me, while firmly clinging to the blinders she uses to see my brothers. Everyday I pray that I never treat my children as unfairly has she has my brothers and me.
The children are all doing as well as can be expected. The daughter is nearing fourteen and my fear that she will step into my life is overwhelming. If we can get her to eighteen without a pregnancy we'll be doing well. Thankfully I know she isn't having sex yet, simply because her grades have kept her grounded to the house nearly all year long.
It is time to repack my bags and begin my journey yet again into the past. I hope that you will all walk beside me once again.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Perfection
So, along with my new position at work, there comes some perks. One of them is that I have an instant messenger that we use to communicate to others in the building, however, I added Chris to my list of contacts and we chat off and on through the day. Nothing long, just short hello's, how are you, and updates on the kids.
There I am at work and I get an im from Chris. He wants to know how I felt about our daughter walking home from school with one of her friends. I wasn't there, and when I came back I returned the message asking him why said friend wasn't going to ride the bus as they've done all year. He says she can't ride the bus. Now this caused a lot of confusion because it is a public bus system. I ask him why she can't ride the bus anymore and he tells me he'll explain when I get home.
Several hours go by and I'm wondering about it as I drive home. If she got into trouble and was evicted from riding the public bus do I really want my daughter hanging out with this girl. She's always been a good friend to my daughter but getting kicked off a public bus is pretty serious thing.
So, Chris and I say hello and I settle down at the computer and he tells me that this little girl who has been such a friend to my daughter can't ride the bus because, her mouth and her.. obesity counselor... have decided she's too fat to ride to and from school.
I think my jaw hit the floor. The child is not fat. She's as tall as I am and a little thick, but by no means fat. I sat and thought of how my daughter would feel if I told her she was too fat to ride to school. My heart constricted and I felt so bad for this little girl.
What is wrong with people? Is being skinny so important that you would destroy the already fragile self esteem of a teenage girl? It made me take a long look at how we treat our daughter (who just turned 13 last month). I came to some conclusions about the whole thing. Maybe it is judgmental of me, but I've seen fat people, I'm no Barbie doll myself, and maybe some would say that I can't understand because my daughter is rail thin. However, I think if my daughter gained weight that I would have to look at myself as a parent before I looked to my child.
Isn't it my responsibility to teach my children good eating habits? Teach them to avoid junk food and use raw fruits and vegetables as snacks instead of potato chips and ice cream? Don't get me wrong, my kids get some treats, but that's what they are, treats.
My daughter is learning to cook, isn't my job to teach her healthier ways to cook? I think that the only fried food that we eat is hamburger meat. The children use it in hamburger helper, but we rinse the meat of all the grease before we add it. We make sure that they have vegetables and fruit.
If my children lack anything in their diets from the food groups it would have to be from the dairy section and even that's something that is borderline. They have milk with their breakfast, they eat cheese on their lunch sandwiches and we always have stuff like cottage cheese or cheese sticks hanging around.
>sigh<
As much as I went over and analyzed everything we do with her, I could find very little that we would change. We tell her she's beautiful. We tell her that she's smart. We laugh with her. We comfort her when she cries. We have increased her responsibility around the house, offset by the extra privileges she has. We encourage her to think outside the box and be creative in all that she does. If she shows an interest in something, we do our best to foster that interest. But does she >feel< good about herself? Does she >feel< smart, funny, beautiful, friendly? Negatives always seem to linger longer then positives and I keep asking myself if we give more positive then negative.
I can't imagine turning to her and saying "you're too fat to ride the bus"
I want to scream at that mother, I want to shake her, I want her to see that she's probably done more damage than good. I want her to see that her daughter is beautiful and bright and compassionate and loyal. I wish I could make her see that she's probably going to do more damage then good approaching it this way. I wish it wasn't so important for people to have the perfect child.
So if you have a daughter, no matter what age she is, take a moment to go and talk to her, tell her you love her, tell her she's beautiful or smart or funny. Make her feel good about herself.
My children are not perfect. My husband is not perfect. My friends are not perfect. My life is not perfect. They are however, perfect for me.
There I am at work and I get an im from Chris. He wants to know how I felt about our daughter walking home from school with one of her friends. I wasn't there, and when I came back I returned the message asking him why said friend wasn't going to ride the bus as they've done all year. He says she can't ride the bus. Now this caused a lot of confusion because it is a public bus system. I ask him why she can't ride the bus anymore and he tells me he'll explain when I get home.
Several hours go by and I'm wondering about it as I drive home. If she got into trouble and was evicted from riding the public bus do I really want my daughter hanging out with this girl. She's always been a good friend to my daughter but getting kicked off a public bus is pretty serious thing.
So, Chris and I say hello and I settle down at the computer and he tells me that this little girl who has been such a friend to my daughter can't ride the bus because, her mouth and her.. obesity counselor... have decided she's too fat to ride to and from school.
I think my jaw hit the floor. The child is not fat. She's as tall as I am and a little thick, but by no means fat. I sat and thought of how my daughter would feel if I told her she was too fat to ride to school. My heart constricted and I felt so bad for this little girl.
What is wrong with people? Is being skinny so important that you would destroy the already fragile self esteem of a teenage girl? It made me take a long look at how we treat our daughter (who just turned 13 last month). I came to some conclusions about the whole thing. Maybe it is judgmental of me, but I've seen fat people, I'm no Barbie doll myself, and maybe some would say that I can't understand because my daughter is rail thin. However, I think if my daughter gained weight that I would have to look at myself as a parent before I looked to my child.
Isn't it my responsibility to teach my children good eating habits? Teach them to avoid junk food and use raw fruits and vegetables as snacks instead of potato chips and ice cream? Don't get me wrong, my kids get some treats, but that's what they are, treats.
My daughter is learning to cook, isn't my job to teach her healthier ways to cook? I think that the only fried food that we eat is hamburger meat. The children use it in hamburger helper, but we rinse the meat of all the grease before we add it. We make sure that they have vegetables and fruit.
If my children lack anything in their diets from the food groups it would have to be from the dairy section and even that's something that is borderline. They have milk with their breakfast, they eat cheese on their lunch sandwiches and we always have stuff like cottage cheese or cheese sticks hanging around.
>sigh<
As much as I went over and analyzed everything we do with her, I could find very little that we would change. We tell her she's beautiful. We tell her that she's smart. We laugh with her. We comfort her when she cries. We have increased her responsibility around the house, offset by the extra privileges she has. We encourage her to think outside the box and be creative in all that she does. If she shows an interest in something, we do our best to foster that interest. But does she >feel< good about herself? Does she >feel< smart, funny, beautiful, friendly? Negatives always seem to linger longer then positives and I keep asking myself if we give more positive then negative.
I can't imagine turning to her and saying "you're too fat to ride the bus"
I want to scream at that mother, I want to shake her, I want her to see that she's probably done more damage than good. I want her to see that her daughter is beautiful and bright and compassionate and loyal. I wish I could make her see that she's probably going to do more damage then good approaching it this way. I wish it wasn't so important for people to have the perfect child.
So if you have a daughter, no matter what age she is, take a moment to go and talk to her, tell her you love her, tell her she's beautiful or smart or funny. Make her feel good about herself.
My children are not perfect. My husband is not perfect. My friends are not perfect. My life is not perfect. They are however, perfect for me.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Classes Are Over
I have to let out this huge sigh of relief now. I am finally done with my first semester. I don't want to brag, but I managed to get a 4.0 with 4 classes, a full time job, 3 kids, and managing to do >most< of my recreational stuff in between. For a while I didn't think that I was going to make it.
I have not posted in a while because I had finals that I was cramming for. Thank you so much to all of you who have sent your love, support, wishes and prayers.
I love my new position at work. Not only do I feel like I am making a difference, I can actually see that difference.
When I took the team it was the "worst team" according to the other team leads. I sucked up every piece of advice that I could and began my own system. A system that has worked very well for me, and for my employees.
Two of the reps that I had on my team were nearing the loss of their job because of performance reasons. These are reps that have been with my company for the better part of 3 or more years. Their issues had been identified as "will" issues, meaning that they had the skill and knowledge, but refused to apply it and follow the rules. I realized in my first week of working with them that it was not a will issue, but a skill issue. Even though they have been with the company for a long time, they really did not have the selling skills needed. I of course, made this my personal mission and for weeks now I have been working side by side with them, giving them feedback, encouragement, and the occasional scolding when needed. This week it all paid off when they both moved up the chart we use to measure their progress. I was thrilled; it gave me a very good feeling.
I know that I was going to quit smoking. That didn't happen. Why you might ask. Because I had too much stress with all that was going on around me. I am going to take the summer off though and now that classes are over I am going to go back on the patch.
In more boring news, Chris and I have been talking about buying a house. I am so excited. With the raise that I was given we are now going to be able to clean up our credit and I don't even think that it will require us to file bankruptcy. Just a question for some of you financial wizards out there, someone told me that after 7 years a debt has to be wiped clean from your credit report even if it wasn't paid, can anyone tell me if this is true or not, and does anyone know where I can get a free credit report?
All my life, the only thing I have ever longed to >own< is my own house. My parents have been married for almost 60 years and they both say that the biggest regret that they have is that they never owned their own home besides a trailer house. For me, it doesn't have to be fancy. I want a room for each of the kids, and one for me and Chris. A fenced yard and a big kitchen. We have been looking and it is not much more expensive to pay the mortgage then it is to pay the rent. God willing we will be able to do this in the next year or two.
Coming soon I am going to go back to posting about my childhood. I know a lot of you have been waiting for an update, and I'm sorry I've been so lax about it. I promise with school out you will see me posting a lot more frequently.
Here was a site that amused me a lot. Mind you this is not a real product and was meant as an April Fool's joke. Enjoy
http://www.thedarkspiral.com/craveco/
I have not posted in a while because I had finals that I was cramming for. Thank you so much to all of you who have sent your love, support, wishes and prayers.
I love my new position at work. Not only do I feel like I am making a difference, I can actually see that difference.
When I took the team it was the "worst team" according to the other team leads. I sucked up every piece of advice that I could and began my own system. A system that has worked very well for me, and for my employees.
Two of the reps that I had on my team were nearing the loss of their job because of performance reasons. These are reps that have been with my company for the better part of 3 or more years. Their issues had been identified as "will" issues, meaning that they had the skill and knowledge, but refused to apply it and follow the rules. I realized in my first week of working with them that it was not a will issue, but a skill issue. Even though they have been with the company for a long time, they really did not have the selling skills needed. I of course, made this my personal mission and for weeks now I have been working side by side with them, giving them feedback, encouragement, and the occasional scolding when needed. This week it all paid off when they both moved up the chart we use to measure their progress. I was thrilled; it gave me a very good feeling.
I know that I was going to quit smoking. That didn't happen. Why you might ask. Because I had too much stress with all that was going on around me. I am going to take the summer off though and now that classes are over I am going to go back on the patch.
In more boring news, Chris and I have been talking about buying a house. I am so excited. With the raise that I was given we are now going to be able to clean up our credit and I don't even think that it will require us to file bankruptcy. Just a question for some of you financial wizards out there, someone told me that after 7 years a debt has to be wiped clean from your credit report even if it wasn't paid, can anyone tell me if this is true or not, and does anyone know where I can get a free credit report?
All my life, the only thing I have ever longed to >own< is my own house. My parents have been married for almost 60 years and they both say that the biggest regret that they have is that they never owned their own home besides a trailer house. For me, it doesn't have to be fancy. I want a room for each of the kids, and one for me and Chris. A fenced yard and a big kitchen. We have been looking and it is not much more expensive to pay the mortgage then it is to pay the rent. God willing we will be able to do this in the next year or two.
Coming soon I am going to go back to posting about my childhood. I know a lot of you have been waiting for an update, and I'm sorry I've been so lax about it. I promise with school out you will see me posting a lot more frequently.
Here was a site that amused me a lot. Mind you this is not a real product and was meant as an April Fool's joke. Enjoy
http://www.thedarkspiral.com/craveco/
Friday, April 21, 2006
Fire Alarms
One memory seems to follow me wherever I go. Surprisingly it is not a bad memory, but more of a bittersweet thing.
After I had been at Western Academy for a while, and after much trouble, turmoil, and students who came and new ones taking their place, I had found myself an unwilling leader.
People looked to me for advice, guidance, and sometimes mischief. I was very good at the last part. In some ways, it was a way to make me feel normal. This particular event took place on a lazy summer afternoon. We started outside, where the sun shone down on our faces and the wind carried the smell of the river up to greet us. On the front lawn we had set up the volleyball net and took turns playing.
I have never been one that enjoyed sports, but volleyball was my love, my passion. I was good at it and it gave me a great way to be aggressive without anyone getting hurt. I could hit that ball as hard as I wanted and it felt good.
So, here we were, enjoying the sunshine, playing volleyball when a fight erupted between several people. I don't remember who or what started it, the only thing I clearly recall was the outcome.
We were immediately ushered inside and placed in our rooms. I was furious. I didn't start the fight, nor did I participate in it and I was being punished. I sat around and sulked, trying to figure out a way to aggravate the staff.
I flopped onto my bed and lay staring at the ceiling, my gaze drifting over the white ceiling, thoughts zipping through my head. My gaze slowly drifted over to the fire alarm set in the middle of the room and for a long time I watched the blinking red light.
Slowly I got up from my bed and moved to stand directly below it. As anyone with epilepsy knows, a blinking light can be our undoing and I have no idea how long I stood there staring at. Tracy pulled me out of my trance by shaking my arm firmly and calling my name rather loudly. I glanced back up and with a grin began to look around.
Spotting what I wanted I moved over and picked up the sturdy wooden nightstand I kept next to my bed. Placing it right under the fire alarm I grinned at Tracy as I reached up and pressed the test button hard, sending a screeching noise throughout the entire building.
Quick as lightning I jumped from my makeshift stool and ran it back over to where it belonged and put everything back on it. As the staff rushed in, both Tracy and I did the best acting of our lives as we stood there wide eyed and innocent looking as they glanced through our room to make sure there was no fire. One by one each of the rooms were checked.
We waited about five minutes after hearing the door shut and we were up under it again, with a gleeful giggle we pressed the button, holding it down longer this time, yet not so long that we didn't have time to rush back and put everything back on it.
Time after time we did this, and each time the staff would come in demanding answers. After about the tenth time, they placed all the girls in one room and all the boys in one room.
It wasn't long before we heard it go off and with surprise we looked at each other. It was not us. We hadn't done it this time. The staff came flying in and we all denied any wrong doing, so off to the boys’ room they went. The minute we heard our dorm room door shut, we were pressing as hard as we could on that button.
As stupid as this all sounds, it was great fun to watch the staff grow frustrated, run back and forth, and demand answers that not a single one of us was willing to give up the fun.
Finally the staff wised up and the man who did maintenance for us came in with a small paintbrush and some red paint which he put over the dot, smirking at us with a knowing look he left the room.
We all knew that it meant whoever touched it would end up with red paint and therefore be caught, and we settled down to brainstorm. Refusing to allow the staff to win this round, we took a piece of toilet paper and cleaned it off before I carefully wrapped my finger in the same paper and pressed the button again. The paper was passed off and into the bathroom it went where the evidence was flushed.
Tired, angry, and frustrated beyond words, the maintenance man came back in and with a glare reached up to remove our precious toy.
We never did do that again, and I'm not sure why. It was great fun and we had finally one upped the staff. Something that would happen more and more as I became comfortable leading the group.
Now, I smile every time a fire alarm goes off.
After I had been at Western Academy for a while, and after much trouble, turmoil, and students who came and new ones taking their place, I had found myself an unwilling leader.
People looked to me for advice, guidance, and sometimes mischief. I was very good at the last part. In some ways, it was a way to make me feel normal. This particular event took place on a lazy summer afternoon. We started outside, where the sun shone down on our faces and the wind carried the smell of the river up to greet us. On the front lawn we had set up the volleyball net and took turns playing.
I have never been one that enjoyed sports, but volleyball was my love, my passion. I was good at it and it gave me a great way to be aggressive without anyone getting hurt. I could hit that ball as hard as I wanted and it felt good.
So, here we were, enjoying the sunshine, playing volleyball when a fight erupted between several people. I don't remember who or what started it, the only thing I clearly recall was the outcome.
We were immediately ushered inside and placed in our rooms. I was furious. I didn't start the fight, nor did I participate in it and I was being punished. I sat around and sulked, trying to figure out a way to aggravate the staff.
I flopped onto my bed and lay staring at the ceiling, my gaze drifting over the white ceiling, thoughts zipping through my head. My gaze slowly drifted over to the fire alarm set in the middle of the room and for a long time I watched the blinking red light.
Slowly I got up from my bed and moved to stand directly below it. As anyone with epilepsy knows, a blinking light can be our undoing and I have no idea how long I stood there staring at. Tracy pulled me out of my trance by shaking my arm firmly and calling my name rather loudly. I glanced back up and with a grin began to look around.
Spotting what I wanted I moved over and picked up the sturdy wooden nightstand I kept next to my bed. Placing it right under the fire alarm I grinned at Tracy as I reached up and pressed the test button hard, sending a screeching noise throughout the entire building.
Quick as lightning I jumped from my makeshift stool and ran it back over to where it belonged and put everything back on it. As the staff rushed in, both Tracy and I did the best acting of our lives as we stood there wide eyed and innocent looking as they glanced through our room to make sure there was no fire. One by one each of the rooms were checked.
We waited about five minutes after hearing the door shut and we were up under it again, with a gleeful giggle we pressed the button, holding it down longer this time, yet not so long that we didn't have time to rush back and put everything back on it.
Time after time we did this, and each time the staff would come in demanding answers. After about the tenth time, they placed all the girls in one room and all the boys in one room.
It wasn't long before we heard it go off and with surprise we looked at each other. It was not us. We hadn't done it this time. The staff came flying in and we all denied any wrong doing, so off to the boys’ room they went. The minute we heard our dorm room door shut, we were pressing as hard as we could on that button.
As stupid as this all sounds, it was great fun to watch the staff grow frustrated, run back and forth, and demand answers that not a single one of us was willing to give up the fun.
Finally the staff wised up and the man who did maintenance for us came in with a small paintbrush and some red paint which he put over the dot, smirking at us with a knowing look he left the room.
We all knew that it meant whoever touched it would end up with red paint and therefore be caught, and we settled down to brainstorm. Refusing to allow the staff to win this round, we took a piece of toilet paper and cleaned it off before I carefully wrapped my finger in the same paper and pressed the button again. The paper was passed off and into the bathroom it went where the evidence was flushed.
Tired, angry, and frustrated beyond words, the maintenance man came back in and with a glare reached up to remove our precious toy.
We never did do that again, and I'm not sure why. It was great fun and we had finally one upped the staff. Something that would happen more and more as I became comfortable leading the group.
Now, I smile every time a fire alarm goes off.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
I have returned.
I have returned. Thank you to every single one of you who has remained faithful in my long absence and those of you who have taken the time out of your lives to email me. Your love and support is overwhelming.
My life has been full of ups and downs, littered with bright days among the dark skies of my heart.
I am nearing the end of my first semester of school and I am averaging an A in all subjects. I am been promoted not once, not twice, but three times at my job since we last spoke. My beautiful daughter is going to be turning 13 in a few weeks. I have become a great aunt for the first time to a healthy baby boy. I have been assured though, by the nephew who is responsible for my new status, that I have always been great.
So why, with so many great things taking place in my life, am I plagued by sadness in my heart? Why must I struggle so hard to beat back the constant nagging fears in my mind? Why is it so easy for me to believe the people in my life would be better off if I were dead?
Yes my faithful and new readers, amidst all my blessings I have contemplated suicide. I sat for hours and cried, debating the pros and cons of what I wanted to do. I asked myself if a letter to my husband and children would ease the guilt that always comes to families of suicide victims. Do I have the right to do that to ease my own pain? While I eventually spoke to Chris about this, I really scared myself. I thought of ways I could do it. I thought of places I could go. I also sat and thought of what I would write to the ones that I loved. I am angry that in the end instead of feeling relief that I wasn't going to, I felt as if I am chained to this life. I can not hurt my family that way no matter how bad my pain is. I can't continue to live the way I have been and I can't end it myself, so I must make more changes.
I have already made so many changes that I barely recognize who I am anymore.
I feel disconnected from my dearest friends. For a while now I have felt disconnected from even my husband. I do not get to spend enough time with my children and that is hard for me. Chris told me the other night when I got home that my daughter wanted to write me a letter, when he asked her why, she said it was because she never sees me and misses me. I was conflicted between good and bad. On one hand, my daughter misses me and that means she loves me and values our relationship, on the other hand it means that I am not here for her enough and as a girl who is struggling to find herself as a young lady, I should be.
My boys received word yesterday that their beautiful teacher had lost her battle with cancer. The older boy did not say anything at all about it to Chris; however the younger boy was very sad. I was not here for him. This is the first time any of my children have had death touch their lives and I could not wrap my arms around him and comfort him.
I think I have missed my writing more then I had realized. I have missed pouring out my heart and letting go of it. I did better when I was blogging about my past then I ever have in my whole life. I need to get back to that. I need to start letting go. See, what happened was that I started to let go. I let go of the more minor things that took place, and while that helped me in many ways, it's also like peeling away carpet and finding out there is something worse underneath. I have not had to face these things in many years and I tremble to think of the daunting task of peeling back those layers too. I am scared. No, I am terrified. All I can do now is pray that I am strong enough to face it. God help me.
My life has been full of ups and downs, littered with bright days among the dark skies of my heart.
I am nearing the end of my first semester of school and I am averaging an A in all subjects. I am been promoted not once, not twice, but three times at my job since we last spoke. My beautiful daughter is going to be turning 13 in a few weeks. I have become a great aunt for the first time to a healthy baby boy. I have been assured though, by the nephew who is responsible for my new status, that I have always been great.
So why, with so many great things taking place in my life, am I plagued by sadness in my heart? Why must I struggle so hard to beat back the constant nagging fears in my mind? Why is it so easy for me to believe the people in my life would be better off if I were dead?
Yes my faithful and new readers, amidst all my blessings I have contemplated suicide. I sat for hours and cried, debating the pros and cons of what I wanted to do. I asked myself if a letter to my husband and children would ease the guilt that always comes to families of suicide victims. Do I have the right to do that to ease my own pain? While I eventually spoke to Chris about this, I really scared myself. I thought of ways I could do it. I thought of places I could go. I also sat and thought of what I would write to the ones that I loved. I am angry that in the end instead of feeling relief that I wasn't going to, I felt as if I am chained to this life. I can not hurt my family that way no matter how bad my pain is. I can't continue to live the way I have been and I can't end it myself, so I must make more changes.
I have already made so many changes that I barely recognize who I am anymore.
I feel disconnected from my dearest friends. For a while now I have felt disconnected from even my husband. I do not get to spend enough time with my children and that is hard for me. Chris told me the other night when I got home that my daughter wanted to write me a letter, when he asked her why, she said it was because she never sees me and misses me. I was conflicted between good and bad. On one hand, my daughter misses me and that means she loves me and values our relationship, on the other hand it means that I am not here for her enough and as a girl who is struggling to find herself as a young lady, I should be.
My boys received word yesterday that their beautiful teacher had lost her battle with cancer. The older boy did not say anything at all about it to Chris; however the younger boy was very sad. I was not here for him. This is the first time any of my children have had death touch their lives and I could not wrap my arms around him and comfort him.
I think I have missed my writing more then I had realized. I have missed pouring out my heart and letting go of it. I did better when I was blogging about my past then I ever have in my whole life. I need to get back to that. I need to start letting go. See, what happened was that I started to let go. I let go of the more minor things that took place, and while that helped me in many ways, it's also like peeling away carpet and finding out there is something worse underneath. I have not had to face these things in many years and I tremble to think of the daunting task of peeling back those layers too. I am scared. No, I am terrified. All I can do now is pray that I am strong enough to face it. God help me.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
So Tired
I was an early bloomer. I had breasts blooming by the time that I was ten years old. It was no surprise to anyone that I looked five or six years older then I was. What ten year old has breasts, let alone a size B? It has been a curse my whole life. The following story may be convoluted, as I am trying to drag up memories long buried.
The first time I went to Horizon House was before Western Academy. I don't know how I got to Horizon House the first time. Maybe it was because I had run away from the foster home. It was after all a home for runaways. I don't remember who took me there, or any of the staff that was there, I recall, nothing except for what took place one night.
The only thing I can remember of the building itself was that when you first went in, you were in a living room that had a winding staircase. If you went farther you came into the kitchen. Up the winding staircase were the bedrooms. I know from experiences farther in the future that there had to have been at least two bathrooms and a staff office somewhere, but damned if I can remember where they were now.
I don't remember any of the routines, or any of the staff. I don"t even remember any of the other kids, except for one.
I do remember it was dark. I was on a small bed, alone in a room. I curled myself up into a ball and hugged my teddy bear to my waist. I was so tired, so afraid of what was going to happen to me. My eyes drifting shut as I felt the familiar pull of sleep. Sleep had always been my friend. Always taking me in, soothing me whenever things got bad.
I fought against the nightmare, the ties that were holding me down fast. I felt confusion lance through me, something was wrong. This time the monsters from my dreams were really going to win. I couldn't move. I couldn't wake up. I couldn't scream. My tongue felt thick and my head felt odd, but I finally managed to drag my eyes open.
I was staring straight into the face of boy named John. His face was the only thing I could see in the darkness. I tried to move, but I found his weight on top of me too much for my small frame to dislodge. He had laid his full weight on top of me. I found myself fighting, a sixteen year old boy on top of a ten year old girl. Physically I was no match.
I stared at him blankly before I asked in a very cold and detached voice "What are you doing?"
He replied "It's so hard. You looked so pretty at dinner."
Now, despite the fact that I had been molested, I had no clue what he meant by "It's so hard" and I do believe my expression mirrored that, if not, certainly my next words should have alerted him that something was wrong.
"Are you sick John?"
He grinned wickedly at me and pushed himself up, I let out the breathe I didn't even know I had been holding and felt relief flood through me. He was going to get off of me and go back to his room, or maybe find a staff member.
The fear flooded back in when the blankets were ripped from between us and I felt him struggling to get my night shirt up. A t-shirt and panties is all I had to wear to bed and it was not much covering for me.
His cold sweaty hands made me feel sick to my stomach and I started protesting. I was begging him to stop. I could barely focus. All I could think of was how it was going to happen all over again.
My body went still. I couldn't fight. What if he beat me up for fighting him? What if he hurt me? Maybe if I did what he wanted he would go away and leave me alone.
He ordered me to spread my legs. I continued to lay prone. I may not be able to fight, but I sure as hell wasn't going to help him.
I felt his nasty hands struggle with my panties, giving up when they reached my mid thighs. He was already naked and I could feel him pressing against me. Despite my resolve not to, tears began to leak out of the corners of my eyes.
He continued to whisper against my ear, talking about how hard it was, how bad it hurt, how he had to do this, how he was sorry.
I wanted to fight, to claw his eyes out, but instead, I simply laid there. I had played this game before and knew I wouldn't win. I had seen what happens on television when the girl fights back. My mind began to shut down.
I can tell you that he didn't penetrate me. He did rub himself against me until he left a sticky mess, then calmly stood up, told me if I ever told anyone that he would kill me.
I am sure at some point he walked out of my room. I don't remember him leaving. I never told anyone, until today. I wish I could say that I never saw him again but that would be a lie.
The day I walked into Western Academy, he walked back into my life.
On a side note, it was shortly after this that I began to experience night terrors. Even during all of my counseling I could never bring myself to tell anyone. It is something that I have not even told Chris. I guess there is never a good time to simply say "Oh yeah by the way when I was ten, an older boy sort of forced himself on me while I laid there."
The question becomes, if I didn't protest, is it still a violation? Does someone have to say no for it to be wrong, or is it a basic principal?
In the back of my mind I know it wasn't my fault. I know I didn't do anything wrong. Or did I? Is it my fault for not fighting back? Is it my fault for not screaming? Surely someone would have come to save me. I now know that there is a staff member 24 hours a day at Horizon House, surely I knew it then.
Ever been in one of those dreams where your mouth just opens up to scream and nothing comes out? Or maybe just a squeaking noise? I was always afraid of that. Afraid I would open my mouth to scream and nothing would come out, or I would squeak and then he would be furious and I would suffer for it.
To this day I carry a hatred for John. I wish him all the hell he inflicted on me, for this was the first time, but not the last.
I am so very tired though. I am not sleeping well. It's been weeks since I first got sick and I'm still fighting a rather nasty fever that seems to come on stronger at night. I have woken up sweating for several days now. I am groggy and disorientated. The night terrors have been back ever since I started wearing the nicotine patch.
I am tired of having to fight with life.
The first time I went to Horizon House was before Western Academy. I don't know how I got to Horizon House the first time. Maybe it was because I had run away from the foster home. It was after all a home for runaways. I don't remember who took me there, or any of the staff that was there, I recall, nothing except for what took place one night.
The only thing I can remember of the building itself was that when you first went in, you were in a living room that had a winding staircase. If you went farther you came into the kitchen. Up the winding staircase were the bedrooms. I know from experiences farther in the future that there had to have been at least two bathrooms and a staff office somewhere, but damned if I can remember where they were now.
I don't remember any of the routines, or any of the staff. I don"t even remember any of the other kids, except for one.
I do remember it was dark. I was on a small bed, alone in a room. I curled myself up into a ball and hugged my teddy bear to my waist. I was so tired, so afraid of what was going to happen to me. My eyes drifting shut as I felt the familiar pull of sleep. Sleep had always been my friend. Always taking me in, soothing me whenever things got bad.
I fought against the nightmare, the ties that were holding me down fast. I felt confusion lance through me, something was wrong. This time the monsters from my dreams were really going to win. I couldn't move. I couldn't wake up. I couldn't scream. My tongue felt thick and my head felt odd, but I finally managed to drag my eyes open.
I was staring straight into the face of boy named John. His face was the only thing I could see in the darkness. I tried to move, but I found his weight on top of me too much for my small frame to dislodge. He had laid his full weight on top of me. I found myself fighting, a sixteen year old boy on top of a ten year old girl. Physically I was no match.
I stared at him blankly before I asked in a very cold and detached voice "What are you doing?"
He replied "It's so hard. You looked so pretty at dinner."
Now, despite the fact that I had been molested, I had no clue what he meant by "It's so hard" and I do believe my expression mirrored that, if not, certainly my next words should have alerted him that something was wrong.
"Are you sick John?"
He grinned wickedly at me and pushed himself up, I let out the breathe I didn't even know I had been holding and felt relief flood through me. He was going to get off of me and go back to his room, or maybe find a staff member.
The fear flooded back in when the blankets were ripped from between us and I felt him struggling to get my night shirt up. A t-shirt and panties is all I had to wear to bed and it was not much covering for me.
His cold sweaty hands made me feel sick to my stomach and I started protesting. I was begging him to stop. I could barely focus. All I could think of was how it was going to happen all over again.
My body went still. I couldn't fight. What if he beat me up for fighting him? What if he hurt me? Maybe if I did what he wanted he would go away and leave me alone.
He ordered me to spread my legs. I continued to lay prone. I may not be able to fight, but I sure as hell wasn't going to help him.
I felt his nasty hands struggle with my panties, giving up when they reached my mid thighs. He was already naked and I could feel him pressing against me. Despite my resolve not to, tears began to leak out of the corners of my eyes.
He continued to whisper against my ear, talking about how hard it was, how bad it hurt, how he had to do this, how he was sorry.
I wanted to fight, to claw his eyes out, but instead, I simply laid there. I had played this game before and knew I wouldn't win. I had seen what happens on television when the girl fights back. My mind began to shut down.
I can tell you that he didn't penetrate me. He did rub himself against me until he left a sticky mess, then calmly stood up, told me if I ever told anyone that he would kill me.
I am sure at some point he walked out of my room. I don't remember him leaving. I never told anyone, until today. I wish I could say that I never saw him again but that would be a lie.
The day I walked into Western Academy, he walked back into my life.
On a side note, it was shortly after this that I began to experience night terrors. Even during all of my counseling I could never bring myself to tell anyone. It is something that I have not even told Chris. I guess there is never a good time to simply say "Oh yeah by the way when I was ten, an older boy sort of forced himself on me while I laid there."
The question becomes, if I didn't protest, is it still a violation? Does someone have to say no for it to be wrong, or is it a basic principal?
In the back of my mind I know it wasn't my fault. I know I didn't do anything wrong. Or did I? Is it my fault for not fighting back? Is it my fault for not screaming? Surely someone would have come to save me. I now know that there is a staff member 24 hours a day at Horizon House, surely I knew it then.
Ever been in one of those dreams where your mouth just opens up to scream and nothing comes out? Or maybe just a squeaking noise? I was always afraid of that. Afraid I would open my mouth to scream and nothing would come out, or I would squeak and then he would be furious and I would suffer for it.
To this day I carry a hatred for John. I wish him all the hell he inflicted on me, for this was the first time, but not the last.
I am so very tired though. I am not sleeping well. It's been weeks since I first got sick and I'm still fighting a rather nasty fever that seems to come on stronger at night. I have woken up sweating for several days now. I am groggy and disorientated. The night terrors have been back ever since I started wearing the nicotine patch.
I am tired of having to fight with life.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Just an update
I am still struggling, but I am also still alive. Thank you all for your great advice. It is hard to ask for help from anyone, even our good Lord above. I feel week and broken and asking for help seems to just intensify that.
My oldest boy who is 10 was suspended from school for taking a Swiss army knife to school. It was not something I would have ever bought him, a gift from my wise brother (yes, the same one who took them shooting while he was drunk). Of course, in today’s day and age, the schools just can not take any kind of chances and he was facing expulsion. I wasn’t angry at them, I understand, I would have expected no less if another child showed my boy a knife. I was however dismayed at the thought of being expelled for two years. However, at the hearing, the principal stood up for him and said that he is a model student, that this is the last person she ever expected this from, and I think that went a long way. He returned to school today.
Of course, my youngest boy was suspended for today for scratching a little girl. He swears that it was an accident. That he was trying to lift her up on to the monkey bars like she asked. I didn’t talk to the school yet because I have been so busy, I figured it was only one day, so he could stay home with me.
Why have I been so busy? Well, I was sick, and then, battling the depression, I allowed myself to set my homework aside. I was not only caught up but ahead for a while, now I am barely able to make deadlines and I am feeling rushed and stressed over it. This weekend I am going to get ahead by a week if I can. On the plus side, I am doing incredibly well in all of my classes.
The van is going out on us. It is jerking to the left, and my brother says it could be one of a couple of things, but all of them end with the wheel locking up if I try to drive it. So, my boss was kind enough to change my schedule at work so that I could ride with another girl. Sadly, it takes away one of my days off and splits up the others. Not really a good sign. I can’t wait to buy a new car. We are going to do that this weekend or next.
Well, I am sorry for taking so long to post again, anything and everything is an effort these days. Your love and support is appreciated more then I can say.
My oldest boy who is 10 was suspended from school for taking a Swiss army knife to school. It was not something I would have ever bought him, a gift from my wise brother (yes, the same one who took them shooting while he was drunk). Of course, in today’s day and age, the schools just can not take any kind of chances and he was facing expulsion. I wasn’t angry at them, I understand, I would have expected no less if another child showed my boy a knife. I was however dismayed at the thought of being expelled for two years. However, at the hearing, the principal stood up for him and said that he is a model student, that this is the last person she ever expected this from, and I think that went a long way. He returned to school today.
Of course, my youngest boy was suspended for today for scratching a little girl. He swears that it was an accident. That he was trying to lift her up on to the monkey bars like she asked. I didn’t talk to the school yet because I have been so busy, I figured it was only one day, so he could stay home with me.
Why have I been so busy? Well, I was sick, and then, battling the depression, I allowed myself to set my homework aside. I was not only caught up but ahead for a while, now I am barely able to make deadlines and I am feeling rushed and stressed over it. This weekend I am going to get ahead by a week if I can. On the plus side, I am doing incredibly well in all of my classes.
The van is going out on us. It is jerking to the left, and my brother says it could be one of a couple of things, but all of them end with the wheel locking up if I try to drive it. So, my boss was kind enough to change my schedule at work so that I could ride with another girl. Sadly, it takes away one of my days off and splits up the others. Not really a good sign. I can’t wait to buy a new car. We are going to do that this weekend or next.
Well, I am sorry for taking so long to post again, anything and everything is an effort these days. Your love and support is appreciated more then I can say.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
A Dark Hole
The darkness returns. It doesn't matter how hard I try to fight it, how hard I try to tell myself that everything will be okay, no matter how hard I try to convince myself that I am safe and loved and surrounded by people who will nto leave me.
Lies, it's all lies. It's only meant to lull me into a false sense of security. It lasted a lot longer this time then it normally does. I was blind sided, I thought I was winning, I thought that I was at least ahead.
More lies, more tears, more glass breaking. Wait, that's the sound of my heart. So much pain I can't understand where it stops being emotional and where it becomes physical.
My lesson has been learned. Keep to myself, stop loving, stop trusting, everyone leaves sooner or later. I am not worth being loved. I am broked. None of the things I do to try to better myself will make me a better person. In the end, it is my insides that are no good. I might have quit smoking, but I am too polluted for it to make a difference. Going back to school? Waste of time, I will never amount to anything. I am simply putting us farther into debt by taking out student loans.
I see a dark hole, I think that's where I am going to be for a while. Yes, I will lie here and press my face to the cold ground, breathe deeply of her earthly scent, clench her in my hands, I will not need to strain my ears to hear your happiness, your laughter. The tears will fall, turning dirt into my mud, thick and suffocating. I thought I was past this, I thought I had won. The earth, she is my friend.Yes, I think this is where I am going to be for a while.
Lies, it's all lies. It's only meant to lull me into a false sense of security. It lasted a lot longer this time then it normally does. I was blind sided, I thought I was winning, I thought that I was at least ahead.
More lies, more tears, more glass breaking. Wait, that's the sound of my heart. So much pain I can't understand where it stops being emotional and where it becomes physical.
My lesson has been learned. Keep to myself, stop loving, stop trusting, everyone leaves sooner or later. I am not worth being loved. I am broked. None of the things I do to try to better myself will make me a better person. In the end, it is my insides that are no good. I might have quit smoking, but I am too polluted for it to make a difference. Going back to school? Waste of time, I will never amount to anything. I am simply putting us farther into debt by taking out student loans.
I see a dark hole, I think that's where I am going to be for a while. Yes, I will lie here and press my face to the cold ground, breathe deeply of her earthly scent, clench her in my hands, I will not need to strain my ears to hear your happiness, your laughter. The tears will fall, turning dirt into my mud, thick and suffocating. I thought I was past this, I thought I had won. The earth, she is my friend.Yes, I think this is where I am going to be for a while.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
ID Please
So, life has continued on in Nikki's life, despite the feeling that she may die at any given moment from this nasty bug. It is finally beginning to pass and alas, I shall be returning to work soon. However, I would like to treat you to some of little things that happened while on my road to recovery.
Last night, Chris and I bundled up our youngest son, leaving the two older children at home to play video games, and headed off to Wal-Mart. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Wal-Mart? Biggest damn chain in the world and they can't afford to have separators to keep my goods from being blended in with that of the woman behind me.
Now, as you all know, I am poor. It's as simple as that. I accept my lot in life because I am rich in so many other ways; however, tax season is one time that this poor girl gets to live it up a little, okay, to be honest, a lot.
As crazy as this may sound, I went into Wal-Mart for two main things. To buy my patches to quit smoking, and to refurnish our bathrooms with new towels, rugs, soap dispensers, garbage cans, shower curtains, and anything else I could find that matched my bathroom themes. Yes, Nikki is defiantly an odd cookie, but I love to shop for things to make my house look all pretty. So, there I was, shopping away, when three women came down the isle with me, each pushing an overflowing cart. They were loud, obnoxious and obviously felt that they had all rights to the store because they so kindly pushed my cart out of the way, without a second glance to my son. Before I could open my mouth to speak, the woman who was carrying a small whimpering boy in her arms began to shriek at him. I tried not to, really I did, but I couldn't help but stare. The woman was yelling at this small boy about how he better shut his fucking mouth because he was driving her fucking crazy and she'd had about all the shit from him that she was going to fucking take. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was nearing 11 o' clock in the evening and again I stared at her, as did my boy. Before I could gather my wits and fury enough to jump in and get the crap kicked out of me for putting my nose where it didn't belong, a woman's voice came from the next isle over, shouting at the mother to shut her fucking mouth because the rest of the fucking shoppers had had just about enough of her fucking shit. Lord help me, I was trying not to be judgmental, but I couldn't help but snicker. I pulled my cart out of the isle and moved into the next one. In the meantime, the mother from hell began to scream at the unseen woman about how she should shut her damn mouth, mind her own business or she may find herself on the floor. The woman, who was in my plain view at this time, was shouting right back at the woman, daring her to come over and do something about it. Of course the woman came over to our isle, how dare anyone question her right to shout obscenities at a baby. Her big mouth nearly dropped to the floor and the foul words coming out of her mouth died on her lips when she rounded the corner and found that it was me, and an old woman in a wheelchair in the isle. Without another word the woman stalked off and the old woman and I shared a grin. She complimented me on how well behaved my son was and I thanked her and we moved on.
So, next to Wal-Mart is a Game Stop. Ah, good old Game Stop. A gamer's heaven some would say. I had fearfully dropped Chris off there with plans for him to meet me at Wal-Mart and I would take the boy with me.
Chris, being the darling he is, decided to sneak over to Wal-Mart and buy me my Valentine's Day gift early. As I've posted before he doesn't drive so it is nearly impossible for him to actually be able to surprise me.
So, in he goes, and the mad hunt for the perfect gift is on. Now, mind you, I'm a very simple girl with very simple tastes and he is well aware that it takes very little to make me happy. Hell, I'm happy to come home to a naked husband, if that tells you anything. So, alas, he finds a beautiful gift basket, wicker of course because I have a thing for wicker, and inside this perfect wicker basket is a beautiful bright red teddy bear, which he knows I'll love because it is what I collect and the bear is holding a chocolate rose in a container that is also full of chocolate truffles. Now, to show how simple I am, I had to open that right up just to see what the hell a truffle was, but alas, I begin to digress again.
Perfect gift in hand he saunters up the cash register, sets it down carefully and whips out his credit card. The lady scans the gift basket and a blank look crosses over her features and she stammers a bit before finally getting her words out as she looks up at Chris "Excuse me Sir, may I see your id please?" of course, Chris returns the blank look and replies "Pardon me?" The young lady becomes all the more flustered and says "Well, for some reason, it is asking me for your id, there must be something in the basket, you have to be 17 to buy " even as she speaks, she has picked up the precious gift and begun to inspect it. It is wrapped in cellophane, with a beautiful trio of ribbons tying it together at the top and I do believe one look at the expression on Chris' face was enough to keep her from opening it further. "You're telling me, that a teddy bear, a box of chocolates, and a wicker basket require me to be 17?" To which the gentleman behind Chris calmly replies "Brother, look at that basket, she knows you are going to get laid and she just wants to make sure you're old enough." Chris simply grinned at him and flashed his id at the blushing clerk and made his way out to the van where he set the basket up so that when I went to put my purchases in, it was the first thing I saw.
I was delighted and surprised and full of love for my husband and just in case anyone is wondering, the man was right.
Last night, Chris and I bundled up our youngest son, leaving the two older children at home to play video games, and headed off to Wal-Mart. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Wal-Mart? Biggest damn chain in the world and they can't afford to have separators to keep my goods from being blended in with that of the woman behind me.
Now, as you all know, I am poor. It's as simple as that. I accept my lot in life because I am rich in so many other ways; however, tax season is one time that this poor girl gets to live it up a little, okay, to be honest, a lot.
As crazy as this may sound, I went into Wal-Mart for two main things. To buy my patches to quit smoking, and to refurnish our bathrooms with new towels, rugs, soap dispensers, garbage cans, shower curtains, and anything else I could find that matched my bathroom themes. Yes, Nikki is defiantly an odd cookie, but I love to shop for things to make my house look all pretty. So, there I was, shopping away, when three women came down the isle with me, each pushing an overflowing cart. They were loud, obnoxious and obviously felt that they had all rights to the store because they so kindly pushed my cart out of the way, without a second glance to my son. Before I could open my mouth to speak, the woman who was carrying a small whimpering boy in her arms began to shriek at him. I tried not to, really I did, but I couldn't help but stare. The woman was yelling at this small boy about how he better shut his fucking mouth because he was driving her fucking crazy and she'd had about all the shit from him that she was going to fucking take. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was nearing 11 o' clock in the evening and again I stared at her, as did my boy. Before I could gather my wits and fury enough to jump in and get the crap kicked out of me for putting my nose where it didn't belong, a woman's voice came from the next isle over, shouting at the mother to shut her fucking mouth because the rest of the fucking shoppers had had just about enough of her fucking shit. Lord help me, I was trying not to be judgmental, but I couldn't help but snicker. I pulled my cart out of the isle and moved into the next one. In the meantime, the mother from hell began to scream at the unseen woman about how she should shut her damn mouth, mind her own business or she may find herself on the floor. The woman, who was in my plain view at this time, was shouting right back at the woman, daring her to come over and do something about it. Of course the woman came over to our isle, how dare anyone question her right to shout obscenities at a baby. Her big mouth nearly dropped to the floor and the foul words coming out of her mouth died on her lips when she rounded the corner and found that it was me, and an old woman in a wheelchair in the isle. Without another word the woman stalked off and the old woman and I shared a grin. She complimented me on how well behaved my son was and I thanked her and we moved on.
So, next to Wal-Mart is a Game Stop. Ah, good old Game Stop. A gamer's heaven some would say. I had fearfully dropped Chris off there with plans for him to meet me at Wal-Mart and I would take the boy with me.
Chris, being the darling he is, decided to sneak over to Wal-Mart and buy me my Valentine's Day gift early. As I've posted before he doesn't drive so it is nearly impossible for him to actually be able to surprise me.
So, in he goes, and the mad hunt for the perfect gift is on. Now, mind you, I'm a very simple girl with very simple tastes and he is well aware that it takes very little to make me happy. Hell, I'm happy to come home to a naked husband, if that tells you anything. So, alas, he finds a beautiful gift basket, wicker of course because I have a thing for wicker, and inside this perfect wicker basket is a beautiful bright red teddy bear, which he knows I'll love because it is what I collect and the bear is holding a chocolate rose in a container that is also full of chocolate truffles. Now, to show how simple I am, I had to open that right up just to see what the hell a truffle was, but alas, I begin to digress again.
Perfect gift in hand he saunters up the cash register, sets it down carefully and whips out his credit card. The lady scans the gift basket and a blank look crosses over her features and she stammers a bit before finally getting her words out as she looks up at Chris "Excuse me Sir, may I see your id please?" of course, Chris returns the blank look and replies "Pardon me?" The young lady becomes all the more flustered and says "Well, for some reason, it is asking me for your id, there must be something in the basket, you have to be 17 to buy " even as she speaks, she has picked up the precious gift and begun to inspect it. It is wrapped in cellophane, with a beautiful trio of ribbons tying it together at the top and I do believe one look at the expression on Chris' face was enough to keep her from opening it further. "You're telling me, that a teddy bear, a box of chocolates, and a wicker basket require me to be 17?" To which the gentleman behind Chris calmly replies "Brother, look at that basket, she knows you are going to get laid and she just wants to make sure you're old enough." Chris simply grinned at him and flashed his id at the blushing clerk and made his way out to the van where he set the basket up so that when I went to put my purchases in, it was the first thing I saw.
I was delighted and surprised and full of love for my husband and just in case anyone is wondering, the man was right.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Pride and Prejudice
So, here I am, sick enough that I've called off work. Two hours of sleep last night, my chest feels like it has a truck resting on it, my nose feels like someone has stuffed cotton up there and I can't keep anything down. My stomach feels like I have a hot poker stirring it.
I stumble down the stairs at noon, call work, let them know I am not coming in. I curl up on the couch that Chris has so graciously vacated for me and watch him play a video game. I doze off. A couple of hours of fitful rest go by and I drag myself up and head for the bathroom to wash my face and see about fluids. With fluids obtained I return to my little sanctuary called "the couch" and I decide I better get my homework done for the week. Book in hand, pen and highlighters nearby with index cards, I begin the arduous task of trying to study.
Before long the doorbell rings and lo and behold our boys are home from school. Fretting over Mommy, I now have my every whim catered to, complete with a cool rag on my forehead to reduce fever.
Doorbell rings again and oldest boy goes to door and opens it. I can’t see who it is, but a feminine voice calls out "Tell yer folks they might wanna be getting' outside, some'ting is happenin' to yer sister"
I leap up off the couch and jam my feet into my shoes and race out the door, all the while praying she hasn't been hit by a damn car. As I reach the door that leads out of the foyer into the great outdoors, my daughter appears, looking no worse for the wear.
"What is going on?" I demand while my eyes quickly race over her to see if I missed anything the first time around.
She starts to ramble, her words tumbling over each other so badly that I can't understand what she is saying. I hear the adult feminine voice reply "Those girls were trying to beat her up" So I look to my daughter who nods her confirmation.
Now I am pissed, this same girl has stalked and harassed my daughter all year. By her own account, my daughter has never said or done a single thing to offend her. This girl has on more then one occasion struck my daughter's face. I am beyond words with fury.
I step out into the blinding sun, cold wind tears through my sweater and for a brief second I think of going back in to get my coat, then I spot our apartment manager waving at me from her van. "Hurry up and we'll catch them" she yells at me and so I grab a hold of my daughter and dash down the stairs and into the waiting van with her, off we go.
Sure enough, just up the hill from our apartment there stands a large group of kids. My daughter and her friend, who for some reason was in the car with our manager, both point out the offending child.
I leap out of the van and stalk towards her. Apparently I looked pretty scary because she started to take off. Apartment manager calls out and asks me if I want the police involved and I respond with "Might as well be you that calls the police because someone is going to"
So, to make a long and rather boring story short, I'll leave out the verbal argument I found myself, two other adults, and about ten young kids in this child over whether or not she did indeed assault my child, here is what did happen.
Daughter arrives with friend. Friend and daughter see girls approaching, begin to speed up. Friend takes a hold of my daughter’s arm and tries to steer her in a direction that is not the same one the two girls are coming from. One girl rushes them, grabs my daughter's free arm and starts pulling on her, screaming obscenities at the young lady who refuses to abandon my daughter. A struggle ensues, the violator grabs my daughter’s backpack and she uses her witty little brain to slide out of the backpack and leave it behind while running for home.
So, in the end, my daughter was physically unharmed for the most part. Young violator was served with a citation and charges are now pending for assault.
I have had to put some new rules in place, and my life will, at least for a while, be complicated by the fact that on my days off I will be transporting both my daughter and her young friend home from school. The young lady who stood by my daughter's side lives not far from us and her mother will be bringing them home two days a week. The fifth day, which neither of us were able to cover as far as transportation goes, has been solved as well by Chris, he will be going to the bus stop each week and waiting for the girls to get off the bus and her friend will stay with us until her mother can come pick her up.
I don't understand why children have to be so mean and nasty to one another. While we waited for the police to show up, several of the young men from the neighborhood stood gathered around us, many of them asked my daughter why she didn't fight back, why she ignored the girl. For my daughter, the answer was simple "It takes a bigger person to walk away then it does to stay and hit someone" I felt an incredible amount of pride for her at that moment. I can only hope that this doesn't backfire in my face.
I also felt that old familiar companion of rage creeping up next to me as I listened to the filth this child was spewing. Anyone on this planet who thinks that only white people are capable of racial prejudice is simply fooling themselves. We are a white family. We have black neighbors, oriental neighbors, Hispanic neighbors, and we get along with them just fine, yet here is a child, an eighth grader, who is issuing forth the worst racial slurs I can recall ever having had directed at me. For the first time that I can ever remember, I wanted to strike a child, this child, for what she had done to my daughter. I don't like the feeling it gave me. Had she gotten in my face there is a high likelihood that I would have hit her.
I think I need to get some lessons from my daughter about walking away.
I stumble down the stairs at noon, call work, let them know I am not coming in. I curl up on the couch that Chris has so graciously vacated for me and watch him play a video game. I doze off. A couple of hours of fitful rest go by and I drag myself up and head for the bathroom to wash my face and see about fluids. With fluids obtained I return to my little sanctuary called "the couch" and I decide I better get my homework done for the week. Book in hand, pen and highlighters nearby with index cards, I begin the arduous task of trying to study.
Before long the doorbell rings and lo and behold our boys are home from school. Fretting over Mommy, I now have my every whim catered to, complete with a cool rag on my forehead to reduce fever.
Doorbell rings again and oldest boy goes to door and opens it. I can’t see who it is, but a feminine voice calls out "Tell yer folks they might wanna be getting' outside, some'ting is happenin' to yer sister"
I leap up off the couch and jam my feet into my shoes and race out the door, all the while praying she hasn't been hit by a damn car. As I reach the door that leads out of the foyer into the great outdoors, my daughter appears, looking no worse for the wear.
"What is going on?" I demand while my eyes quickly race over her to see if I missed anything the first time around.
She starts to ramble, her words tumbling over each other so badly that I can't understand what she is saying. I hear the adult feminine voice reply "Those girls were trying to beat her up" So I look to my daughter who nods her confirmation.
Now I am pissed, this same girl has stalked and harassed my daughter all year. By her own account, my daughter has never said or done a single thing to offend her. This girl has on more then one occasion struck my daughter's face. I am beyond words with fury.
I step out into the blinding sun, cold wind tears through my sweater and for a brief second I think of going back in to get my coat, then I spot our apartment manager waving at me from her van. "Hurry up and we'll catch them" she yells at me and so I grab a hold of my daughter and dash down the stairs and into the waiting van with her, off we go.
Sure enough, just up the hill from our apartment there stands a large group of kids. My daughter and her friend, who for some reason was in the car with our manager, both point out the offending child.
I leap out of the van and stalk towards her. Apparently I looked pretty scary because she started to take off. Apartment manager calls out and asks me if I want the police involved and I respond with "Might as well be you that calls the police because someone is going to"
So, to make a long and rather boring story short, I'll leave out the verbal argument I found myself, two other adults, and about ten young kids in this child over whether or not she did indeed assault my child, here is what did happen.
Daughter arrives with friend. Friend and daughter see girls approaching, begin to speed up. Friend takes a hold of my daughter’s arm and tries to steer her in a direction that is not the same one the two girls are coming from. One girl rushes them, grabs my daughter's free arm and starts pulling on her, screaming obscenities at the young lady who refuses to abandon my daughter. A struggle ensues, the violator grabs my daughter’s backpack and she uses her witty little brain to slide out of the backpack and leave it behind while running for home.
So, in the end, my daughter was physically unharmed for the most part. Young violator was served with a citation and charges are now pending for assault.
I have had to put some new rules in place, and my life will, at least for a while, be complicated by the fact that on my days off I will be transporting both my daughter and her young friend home from school. The young lady who stood by my daughter's side lives not far from us and her mother will be bringing them home two days a week. The fifth day, which neither of us were able to cover as far as transportation goes, has been solved as well by Chris, he will be going to the bus stop each week and waiting for the girls to get off the bus and her friend will stay with us until her mother can come pick her up.
I don't understand why children have to be so mean and nasty to one another. While we waited for the police to show up, several of the young men from the neighborhood stood gathered around us, many of them asked my daughter why she didn't fight back, why she ignored the girl. For my daughter, the answer was simple "It takes a bigger person to walk away then it does to stay and hit someone" I felt an incredible amount of pride for her at that moment. I can only hope that this doesn't backfire in my face.
I also felt that old familiar companion of rage creeping up next to me as I listened to the filth this child was spewing. Anyone on this planet who thinks that only white people are capable of racial prejudice is simply fooling themselves. We are a white family. We have black neighbors, oriental neighbors, Hispanic neighbors, and we get along with them just fine, yet here is a child, an eighth grader, who is issuing forth the worst racial slurs I can recall ever having had directed at me. For the first time that I can ever remember, I wanted to strike a child, this child, for what she had done to my daughter. I don't like the feeling it gave me. Had she gotten in my face there is a high likelihood that I would have hit her.
I think I need to get some lessons from my daughter about walking away.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Sick
I am so sick, that kind of sickness that makes you want to curl up in a dark hole and never come out.
Chris is taking good care of me, providing me with lots of tenderness and love as well as the food I need even if I can't keep it down.
Hopefully I will be back soon.
Chris is taking good care of me, providing me with lots of tenderness and love as well as the food I need even if I can't keep it down.
Hopefully I will be back soon.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Monsters In The Dark
I haven't been sleeping well. I've been sick and feverish through the night which has caused my night terrors to be worse then usual.
Last night I dreamed of the man that killed my sister. I was in a house with him and my daughter was there. I had to get her out and I could feel the old familiar panic rising. I was sitting on a couch, with her head in my lap as she slept. He sat across from us in a chair. I could barely make him out because the air was thick with smoke. Not smoke from a cigarette, but from the marijuana he was smoking. I could feel my brain beginning to buzz and I slipped a hand down to hover over her face, trying to keep her from breathing it in. he is talking to me but I can’t hear the words, just his maniacal laughter. I tell myself I have to remain calm, I can't panic.
I blink as she's gone. There is a plastic bag over my head, with a tube attached to it. I breathe in and the bag is sucked against my face and my chest hurts from the lack of oxygen. My hands shoot up, but the bag is too tight, too thick for me to tear away, my only hope is to get the tube into my mouth. I breathe in again and once more the bag is sucked against my face and I can feel the tears sliding down my face. Finally my hands find the tube and I lift it to my mouth and breathe in deeply. He is mocking my efforts. The exact words are gone now, but I know that he is challenging me to save her, to do it right, to not fail her like I did my sister.
I stumble along through a doorway. I can't call out to her, but I hear her frightened voice calling out to me. "Mommy, Mommy where are you? Mommy help me, I'm scared Mommy, please help me Mommy"
White hot rage pierces my brain and I struggle to think, to recall in my mind's eye how the house looked, trying to see when I am blinded, to find a way to save my beautiful daughter. Her soft weeping reaches my ears and I begin to move faster, my mind is too clouded to help me remember, I am running into things. It is painful, but I have to find her, can't let the monster get to her, I can't let him hurt her like he did Melody. She begins to scream.
I am in a room now, the bag is gone, and everything is red and hazy. His laughter seems to come from no where and every where at the same time. I blink several times, trying to see better, and my heart stops as I see a small figure lying on a bed in the center of the room. In the center of the blood red room. I dash forward, slipping on the wetness on the floor and I scream. I scream because I know that it is my child's blood, because I know he took her from me, the way he took Melody. I don't have the strength to stand anymore; all I can do is scramble towards the bed. My hands, my clothes, everything is covered in blood now and as I reach the tiny figure on the bed, I feel a fist closing over my heart. Her eyes stare at me, but they don't blink, they don't see me. Her beautiful blonde hair is red and her frozen expression of horror tells me I was too late to save her, to late to keep her from the monster.
When I wake up I am sobbing and sweating. I am trembling so bad I can barely make it out of my bed and I hold onto the hallway wall as I make me way to her room. The tears are real now and they are sliding down my face as I struggle against my panic as I reach for the door to her bedroom. "It was just a dream Nikki. It was just a dream" I keep telling myself over and over, yet, I can't stop the thumping of my heart, or the panicked feeling I have as I open the door. Even as my gaze lands on her, sleeping peacefully in her bed, I can't stop the panic. I pull the door shut, as to not wake her and I rush for the bathroom where the small amount of food I had for dinner comes back up with a vengeance. Once done I slump to the floor and cover my head with my arms and let myself go. Let myself sob until there is nothing more left in me.
I am so tired of the monsters.
Last night I dreamed of the man that killed my sister. I was in a house with him and my daughter was there. I had to get her out and I could feel the old familiar panic rising. I was sitting on a couch, with her head in my lap as she slept. He sat across from us in a chair. I could barely make him out because the air was thick with smoke. Not smoke from a cigarette, but from the marijuana he was smoking. I could feel my brain beginning to buzz and I slipped a hand down to hover over her face, trying to keep her from breathing it in. he is talking to me but I can’t hear the words, just his maniacal laughter. I tell myself I have to remain calm, I can't panic.
I blink as she's gone. There is a plastic bag over my head, with a tube attached to it. I breathe in and the bag is sucked against my face and my chest hurts from the lack of oxygen. My hands shoot up, but the bag is too tight, too thick for me to tear away, my only hope is to get the tube into my mouth. I breathe in again and once more the bag is sucked against my face and I can feel the tears sliding down my face. Finally my hands find the tube and I lift it to my mouth and breathe in deeply. He is mocking my efforts. The exact words are gone now, but I know that he is challenging me to save her, to do it right, to not fail her like I did my sister.
I stumble along through a doorway. I can't call out to her, but I hear her frightened voice calling out to me. "Mommy, Mommy where are you? Mommy help me, I'm scared Mommy, please help me Mommy"
White hot rage pierces my brain and I struggle to think, to recall in my mind's eye how the house looked, trying to see when I am blinded, to find a way to save my beautiful daughter. Her soft weeping reaches my ears and I begin to move faster, my mind is too clouded to help me remember, I am running into things. It is painful, but I have to find her, can't let the monster get to her, I can't let him hurt her like he did Melody. She begins to scream.
I am in a room now, the bag is gone, and everything is red and hazy. His laughter seems to come from no where and every where at the same time. I blink several times, trying to see better, and my heart stops as I see a small figure lying on a bed in the center of the room. In the center of the blood red room. I dash forward, slipping on the wetness on the floor and I scream. I scream because I know that it is my child's blood, because I know he took her from me, the way he took Melody. I don't have the strength to stand anymore; all I can do is scramble towards the bed. My hands, my clothes, everything is covered in blood now and as I reach the tiny figure on the bed, I feel a fist closing over my heart. Her eyes stare at me, but they don't blink, they don't see me. Her beautiful blonde hair is red and her frozen expression of horror tells me I was too late to save her, to late to keep her from the monster.
When I wake up I am sobbing and sweating. I am trembling so bad I can barely make it out of my bed and I hold onto the hallway wall as I make me way to her room. The tears are real now and they are sliding down my face as I struggle against my panic as I reach for the door to her bedroom. "It was just a dream Nikki. It was just a dream" I keep telling myself over and over, yet, I can't stop the thumping of my heart, or the panicked feeling I have as I open the door. Even as my gaze lands on her, sleeping peacefully in her bed, I can't stop the panic. I pull the door shut, as to not wake her and I rush for the bathroom where the small amount of food I had for dinner comes back up with a vengeance. Once done I slump to the floor and cover my head with my arms and let myself go. Let myself sob until there is nothing more left in me.
I am so tired of the monsters.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Up and Running
Well, here is the finished product, links and all included. I am excited to have it up and once more I want to thank Mija for a fabulous job done!
I was looking at my new look today, enjoying the change and it dawned on me that in the last year I have made a tremendous amount of change.
So much so that sometimes it scares me. What if I change so much that my family, my friends, and my coworkers no longer recognize me? What if I change so much that >I< don't recognize me? Is there such thing as too much change?
I have never thought of myself as a bad person, with the exception of my seriously depressed days. So it stands to reason that I wouldn't really need to change who I am. Yet, I found myself not liking who I was. I found myself wishing I was a better wife, friend, lover, sister, daughter, but most importantly, mother.
Am I becoming that? Do my kids see a change in me? I don't know, but I hope so. My kids are my life. Granted, I have a great husband, and awesome friends and that helps me in so many ways, but I can not imagine my life without my children.
In reading the news today, I saw three stories of mother's who have killed their children and I sat here in stunned silence. I read Lili's post today and yesterday, and I wanted to cry for the little boy she wrote about. (If you haven't been to Lili's blog, it's on my side bar under "Lee" and I highly recommend it.)
What the hell goes through the minds of these monsters? Do they feel anything but evil? How can anyone harm a child?
They blame it on depression, or a mental disorder. Well I have both and let me tell you my friends, I can say honestly that never once have I thought my kids would be better off dead. Sure I've thought they might be better off without me, but never would the world be a better place without my kids.
I have a lot of random thoughts zipping through my head. We filed our taxes today and that means as soon as we get them back, all three of the children get new clothes. I will have to sort through and get rid of the ones that don't fit them anymore. I hate donating to good will and salvation army because they do turn around and sell them for profit. I think I will make some phone calls and see if there is a domestic violence shelter nearby that I can give them to. A lot of those women leave home with no money and just the clothes on their backs.
I went to a domestic violence shelter once. Not because my ex-husband beat me up, but because I was afraid he would take my daughter away from me if I tried to file for divorce. Much to my shock, the house looked like any other on the block and was only four blocks from where I grew up. I remember as a kid I used to be envious of the kids that lived there because it had a huge fenced in backyard and one of those great big jungle gym type things. It wasn't until I was inside that I realized that they had so much more sadness there then I did.
My daughter and I shared a room with two other women. We slept in the same bed, her little body curled up against mine. I can remember the smell of her as I lay in the dark listening to her breath. Wondering where it had all went wrong. I was young when I married her father, and by then we had only been married a couple of years, yet there I was, hiding from the man who fathered my child. The women that were there with me were also hiding. Hiding from the monsters that they lived with. Their black and blue and broken faces told the story that many of them didn't have courage to speak out loud. Their children, fearful of going outside, fearful of the ringing of the phone, still breaks my heart to think about.
When does it all stop? When does the hurting each other stop? When will our children feel safe again? Why are more people not concerned with it? Why does it all have to hurt so much?
I was looking at my new look today, enjoying the change and it dawned on me that in the last year I have made a tremendous amount of change.
So much so that sometimes it scares me. What if I change so much that my family, my friends, and my coworkers no longer recognize me? What if I change so much that >I< don't recognize me? Is there such thing as too much change?
I have never thought of myself as a bad person, with the exception of my seriously depressed days. So it stands to reason that I wouldn't really need to change who I am. Yet, I found myself not liking who I was. I found myself wishing I was a better wife, friend, lover, sister, daughter, but most importantly, mother.
Am I becoming that? Do my kids see a change in me? I don't know, but I hope so. My kids are my life. Granted, I have a great husband, and awesome friends and that helps me in so many ways, but I can not imagine my life without my children.
In reading the news today, I saw three stories of mother's who have killed their children and I sat here in stunned silence. I read Lili's post today and yesterday, and I wanted to cry for the little boy she wrote about. (If you haven't been to Lili's blog, it's on my side bar under "Lee" and I highly recommend it.)
What the hell goes through the minds of these monsters? Do they feel anything but evil? How can anyone harm a child?
They blame it on depression, or a mental disorder. Well I have both and let me tell you my friends, I can say honestly that never once have I thought my kids would be better off dead. Sure I've thought they might be better off without me, but never would the world be a better place without my kids.
I have a lot of random thoughts zipping through my head. We filed our taxes today and that means as soon as we get them back, all three of the children get new clothes. I will have to sort through and get rid of the ones that don't fit them anymore. I hate donating to good will and salvation army because they do turn around and sell them for profit. I think I will make some phone calls and see if there is a domestic violence shelter nearby that I can give them to. A lot of those women leave home with no money and just the clothes on their backs.
I went to a domestic violence shelter once. Not because my ex-husband beat me up, but because I was afraid he would take my daughter away from me if I tried to file for divorce. Much to my shock, the house looked like any other on the block and was only four blocks from where I grew up. I remember as a kid I used to be envious of the kids that lived there because it had a huge fenced in backyard and one of those great big jungle gym type things. It wasn't until I was inside that I realized that they had so much more sadness there then I did.
My daughter and I shared a room with two other women. We slept in the same bed, her little body curled up against mine. I can remember the smell of her as I lay in the dark listening to her breath. Wondering where it had all went wrong. I was young when I married her father, and by then we had only been married a couple of years, yet there I was, hiding from the man who fathered my child. The women that were there with me were also hiding. Hiding from the monsters that they lived with. Their black and blue and broken faces told the story that many of them didn't have courage to speak out loud. Their children, fearful of going outside, fearful of the ringing of the phone, still breaks my heart to think about.
When does it all stop? When does the hurting each other stop? When will our children feel safe again? Why are more people not concerned with it? Why does it all have to hurt so much?
Monday, January 23, 2006
Almost complete
So, construction is nearly completed here on my blog thanks to Mija, who I can't link for some reason because I'm to lame to remember how to do it. However, she designed this great layout for me and I searched for a long time to find a picture that I liked and when I saw this one, I knew it was the one, even though I can't see it on my own website I have been assured it was there.
Thank you Mija, you did a stunning job, I am so happy with it.
I have not been around because my financial aide came through for my schooling and I was tossed right into doing assignments. I have literally spent every single free waking moment doing homework. Sacrificing my blog, my games, my movies, and well, everything but my kids.
Thankfully it is already paying off as my first round of scores came back from two classes and I am getting an A+ in both. Let's see if I can maintain that for the rest of the semester. It will be a huge boost for my self esteem if I finish these classes with all A's, although I will be satisfied with B's.
Kids have had some kind of stomach bug, so for two days, amidst trying desperately to prepare for a test and complete assignments, I have been cleaning up after them and trying to comfort them. I don't think anyone likes to throw up, but I cry when I do and my kids are just like me. So off I run to hold their hair and rub their backs. It's about all the comfort I can offer to the situation, though it seems to be fading now.
Work is the same; always busy doing much of nothing. They did lay off a manager, the official reason was cutbacks, however, I don't really buy that since only one was let go and he was the least, productive shall we say. He is friendly as all hell, just not productive.
So, little by little I am starting to pull things together. I want to find a routine that will allow me to do all the things I want to do and all the things I have to do, and somehow find some time to breathe. Not sure it is possible, might have to cut back on some stuff, but we'll see if practice really does make perfect.
Thank you Mija, you did a stunning job, I am so happy with it.
I have not been around because my financial aide came through for my schooling and I was tossed right into doing assignments. I have literally spent every single free waking moment doing homework. Sacrificing my blog, my games, my movies, and well, everything but my kids.
Thankfully it is already paying off as my first round of scores came back from two classes and I am getting an A+ in both. Let's see if I can maintain that for the rest of the semester. It will be a huge boost for my self esteem if I finish these classes with all A's, although I will be satisfied with B's.
Kids have had some kind of stomach bug, so for two days, amidst trying desperately to prepare for a test and complete assignments, I have been cleaning up after them and trying to comfort them. I don't think anyone likes to throw up, but I cry when I do and my kids are just like me. So off I run to hold their hair and rub their backs. It's about all the comfort I can offer to the situation, though it seems to be fading now.
Work is the same; always busy doing much of nothing. They did lay off a manager, the official reason was cutbacks, however, I don't really buy that since only one was let go and he was the least, productive shall we say. He is friendly as all hell, just not productive.
So, little by little I am starting to pull things together. I want to find a routine that will allow me to do all the things I want to do and all the things I have to do, and somehow find some time to breathe. Not sure it is possible, might have to cut back on some stuff, but we'll see if practice really does make perfect.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Begining Construction
Okay, so, I am going to spend the next couple of days revamping my blog, so it may be down for a little while. Thanks to the beautiful and talented Mija I am going to be the recipient of a one of a kind blog template. So, in keeping with that update, I am going to work my ass off to get all my old posts moved to their new home, update my links, and just give everything a fresh new look.
Look for everything in the next couple of days.
Look for everything in the next couple of days.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
A Little of This and a Little of That
Shades of Woe left me a comment that said “No to rain on your parade or anything, I admire your motivation, but why would you choose to be a FULL TIME student when you already have a lot to handle? Wasn't part time an option?” and I felt the need to address this.
I have never been good at doing anything at a slow pace. Going part time would have probably fit better into my schedule, but it is not within me to do something that will prolong the end result.
When I cook, everything is cooked on high if it is possible. I would rather stand over the stove for an hour and be done with it then have to run out and stir something for three hours. I realize that some things are not cooked well on high and for those things; I do force myself to slow down and flick the knob over to medium. I have no idea what the hell the “low” setting on my stovetop does.
It is the same with life. I jump in with both feet and do the best I can. I really do function better under pressure then I do without. In addition to this, is the fact that Chris is attending full time and we will be taking the same classes with the same teachers. This means that he can keep me up to date on when the assignments are due and help me if I need it. He is like my own personal tutor. The man is too smart for his own damn good.
I think this goes back to my bi-polar disorder. It is common for me to feel like I can take on the world during my manic episodes. Only when the depression sinks in do I feel like I am not capable of completing my tasks. I can honestly say that I have been doing very well at keeping the depression away from me.
It’s been hard and that bitch has tried to sneak up on me more then once in the last couple of weeks, but I am fighting back and for a change I am winning the fight. I am realistic enough to know that it may not always be this way. There is a very good chance that she will creep up on me and bash me over the head when I’m not looking, but for now I am going to keep my eyes open for her and try to head her off at the pass.
I look at my life and I feel good. We are not in the best financial situation right now, but, we have the basic needs for ourselves and our children. Our kids are good kids at heart, a little rough around the edges, but all in all pretty good kids. We have a roof over our heads and both Chris and I are working towards a life that will better us in the long run. I have great friends that I love and adore with all of my heart and every single day I am grateful for them. I have Chris who is the love of my life and my soul mate. He treats me like a princess and on the rare occasion that we do fight, it ends very quickly and things are always better between us. We never have to worry about fighting over the big things. Neither of us has a physical addiction that impairs us. Neither of us would dream of cheating on the other. Neither of us abuses the other. We do not fight about money. We really are a very good team and when I am not losing my mind, we work very well together to figure out a solution to whatever the problem may be.
Our latest issue is our daughter’s school work. Every day she comes home and every day Chris or I ask her if she has homework. Very seldom does she actually say that she does. Each of the kids have a ‘planner” that was bought at the beginning of the school year and every day the children are supposed to fill it out. She doesn’t refuse so much as she gets distracted and doesn’t do it. Oh she is responsible for not doing it; don’t mistake what I’m saying for an excuse. She does have ADHD and that means, by the doctor’s explanation, that her brain moves faster then it should and she has a hard time focusing on one thing. So, by the time she realizes the teacher has told her to get out her planner and fill it out, she’s forgotten what she is supposed to write in it. So, as a compromise, we agreed that instead of writing down everything she did do, she was supposed to write down everything that she is supposed to complete. Well, she’s not doing this either and we got a call from her teachers. Well, to be more precise, Chris got the call. Teacher informed him that my daughter has a 30% in her class. Now, this is a shock because my daughter tests very highly on all of her test scores. She is in the top 5% of her class. She does college level math. She speaks two different languages and she’s got a 30% in one of her classes?! So, stupid me, made the mistake of asking what class she was failing in. Health. She is freaking failing her HEALTH class!!! In hearing all the details, she is not so much failing as she is missing a ton of assignments. When we asked her why she didn’t have them turned in her response was “Because I already know all that stuff!” So, I let her in on a little secret that she didn’t know. She would be doing all the chores for the next week. Chris chimed in with something else she didn’t know. She no longer had a television, vcr, or stereo in her room.
Hopefully we will see some better results in the coming weeks.
So, I have also been thinking about what Chris said about resolutions. He knows that I have all these things I want to do to improve my life, but he insisted that I come up with one that will be fun for me. His “fun” resolution is to learn Japanese. So after a long time in thinking of it, I came up with something that will be a lot of fun for me. Now, don’t laugh, I’m serious about this. It is something that I did with my family a long time ago that I loved to do and have been wanting to go back to for a long time. Now, I know that getting Chris to agree is going to be about as easy as getting a plane to fly without it’s wings. However, I am determined to get him to go to square dancing lessons with me. That’s right folks, Nikki loves to square dance.
Now I shall slink of in shame and plot how to convince my husband that it will be fun.
I have never been good at doing anything at a slow pace. Going part time would have probably fit better into my schedule, but it is not within me to do something that will prolong the end result.
When I cook, everything is cooked on high if it is possible. I would rather stand over the stove for an hour and be done with it then have to run out and stir something for three hours. I realize that some things are not cooked well on high and for those things; I do force myself to slow down and flick the knob over to medium. I have no idea what the hell the “low” setting on my stovetop does.
It is the same with life. I jump in with both feet and do the best I can. I really do function better under pressure then I do without. In addition to this, is the fact that Chris is attending full time and we will be taking the same classes with the same teachers. This means that he can keep me up to date on when the assignments are due and help me if I need it. He is like my own personal tutor. The man is too smart for his own damn good.
I think this goes back to my bi-polar disorder. It is common for me to feel like I can take on the world during my manic episodes. Only when the depression sinks in do I feel like I am not capable of completing my tasks. I can honestly say that I have been doing very well at keeping the depression away from me.
It’s been hard and that bitch has tried to sneak up on me more then once in the last couple of weeks, but I am fighting back and for a change I am winning the fight. I am realistic enough to know that it may not always be this way. There is a very good chance that she will creep up on me and bash me over the head when I’m not looking, but for now I am going to keep my eyes open for her and try to head her off at the pass.
I look at my life and I feel good. We are not in the best financial situation right now, but, we have the basic needs for ourselves and our children. Our kids are good kids at heart, a little rough around the edges, but all in all pretty good kids. We have a roof over our heads and both Chris and I are working towards a life that will better us in the long run. I have great friends that I love and adore with all of my heart and every single day I am grateful for them. I have Chris who is the love of my life and my soul mate. He treats me like a princess and on the rare occasion that we do fight, it ends very quickly and things are always better between us. We never have to worry about fighting over the big things. Neither of us has a physical addiction that impairs us. Neither of us would dream of cheating on the other. Neither of us abuses the other. We do not fight about money. We really are a very good team and when I am not losing my mind, we work very well together to figure out a solution to whatever the problem may be.
Our latest issue is our daughter’s school work. Every day she comes home and every day Chris or I ask her if she has homework. Very seldom does she actually say that she does. Each of the kids have a ‘planner” that was bought at the beginning of the school year and every day the children are supposed to fill it out. She doesn’t refuse so much as she gets distracted and doesn’t do it. Oh she is responsible for not doing it; don’t mistake what I’m saying for an excuse. She does have ADHD and that means, by the doctor’s explanation, that her brain moves faster then it should and she has a hard time focusing on one thing. So, by the time she realizes the teacher has told her to get out her planner and fill it out, she’s forgotten what she is supposed to write in it. So, as a compromise, we agreed that instead of writing down everything she did do, she was supposed to write down everything that she is supposed to complete. Well, she’s not doing this either and we got a call from her teachers. Well, to be more precise, Chris got the call. Teacher informed him that my daughter has a 30% in her class. Now, this is a shock because my daughter tests very highly on all of her test scores. She is in the top 5% of her class. She does college level math. She speaks two different languages and she’s got a 30% in one of her classes?! So, stupid me, made the mistake of asking what class she was failing in. Health. She is freaking failing her HEALTH class!!! In hearing all the details, she is not so much failing as she is missing a ton of assignments. When we asked her why she didn’t have them turned in her response was “Because I already know all that stuff!” So, I let her in on a little secret that she didn’t know. She would be doing all the chores for the next week. Chris chimed in with something else she didn’t know. She no longer had a television, vcr, or stereo in her room.
Hopefully we will see some better results in the coming weeks.
So, I have also been thinking about what Chris said about resolutions. He knows that I have all these things I want to do to improve my life, but he insisted that I come up with one that will be fun for me. His “fun” resolution is to learn Japanese. So after a long time in thinking of it, I came up with something that will be a lot of fun for me. Now, don’t laugh, I’m serious about this. It is something that I did with my family a long time ago that I loved to do and have been wanting to go back to for a long time. Now, I know that getting Chris to agree is going to be about as easy as getting a plane to fly without it’s wings. However, I am determined to get him to go to square dancing lessons with me. That’s right folks, Nikki loves to square dance.
Now I shall slink of in shame and plot how to convince my husband that it will be fun.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
A New Adventure
Right, so, deep wells of frustration and anger are festering like an infested simmering pool of hatred inside my brain. I hate this feeling. I am tried of the constant battle of trying to keep the things at bay is driving me mad. Is it just hormones or is it something deeper?
The college thing that I was so excited about is beginning to wear on me. I have done all that I was supposed to and I am still not enrolled. There was a “random” selection to have my financial aid reviewed. This entails me driving 40 minutes, filling out a paper, handing over my last year’s taxes and going about my merry way. Simple you think? Of course it is, but this “random” selection has selected us, randomly of course, three fucking times.
I am worried about Chris’ suspension. We did all the paperwork needed and turned it in and now it is up to the Dean of Student Services to decide if he is going to get it or not. My head is pounding from the stress.
I think I am smoking more now then before. I can’t help it. My nerves are shot. How am I going to juggle my family, a full time job, and be a full time student? I am scared, maybe this is not something I should have done right now. I am afraid of failing the classes, when will have time to study? I spend every waking minute working or taking care of things that need to be done.
I love Chris and he does help around the house. He makes the kid keep it pretty nice. He does not however, do the little things that I do that I like done. I don’t bother to bring this up to him, because face it ladies, I’ll be damned if I am going to bitch at my husband over doing the housework >my< way when most women are bitching at their husbands to get any of it done. I do appreciate what he does. He makes sure the floors are picked up, vacuumed regularly. I never come home to a dirty kitchen or a nasty bathroom. The garbage may not always be taken out to the dumpster, but it is pulled out the trash bin so that I’m not fighting to throw something away when I am cooking myself something to eat. I will not complain to him that they didn’t sweep along the edges of the wall, or the stairs before vacuuming, or that the entertainment center is not dusted.
This however, means that on my days off, I do all of the bills, I do the laundry; I have to do any kind of paperwork that might need done. Contact people by phone when it is needed. Like, today, I had to call the bank and ask them why there was $40.00 in overdraft charges for my account considering that the money was there. Once I found out that www.gamefly.com, which we have had a subscription through for a year now, charged us 10 days early, I had to call them and find out way. After 45 minutes on the phone with no real answer, and about six years of aggravation, I was hung up on when I asked her to cancel our account. We have been talking about it for a while; their turn around time is horrible. We dealt with that, but this, the way I was treated, was the icing on the cake and I will never go through them again, even if they built a shipping facility next door to us. I can not stand people who are rude and obnoxious. I think my biggest issue, next to the money, was this bitch had the audacity to ask me “Why didn’t you just call us?” to which my reply was “Well you have no number listed on your website anywhere to which you can be reached, it took me three days to find this number” “Oh, well I have an account and I know it’s on there” in her snotty little freaking tone. “Yeah? Well I’m on the website now, please direct me, so she gave me some bullshit run around “Click this, Click that” and I’m like “ Look, I did what you said, I even typed in “customer service number” and the only thing that comes up is “How Do I Activate Parental Controls?” so if that is your number, I got it lady.” Second person I spoke to assured me that the number is not listed on their website. I was so freaking pissed. Can we tell?
To add to the joy that is my life, my daughter started her period for the first time today. Here is a little excerpt from our conversation. Be forewarned if you are squeamish, this is not a conversation for you to read.
So, daughter calls me into the bathroom, shows me, and I respond with "Right, so, here are your pads we bought you, this is how you put them on your panties. Any questions?"
Her: >two hours later< this isn't so bad mom, I have this pain in my leg right here, but, it's just a small "cramp", I don’t see the big deal.
I look at where she is pointing to the outside of her hip “That’s not where it will cramp”
Her: >two hours later< MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM MY STOMACH HUUUUUUUUURTS! MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP!
So, I force down a grin and hunt down Tylenol.
Daughter: mom, how do I know when to change this thing?
Me: well... you change it when it's full
Daughter: full of what?
Me: ... blood?
Daughter: well my teacher says it isn't all blood; it has mucus in there too
Me: that isn't the point!
Daughter: does that mean she was wrong?
Me: no, it means I didn't feel like saying "when it is full of blood and mucus"!
Chris >holds hands over ears< LALALLALALLALALALALLA
Daughter: what's wrong with him?
So begins a great new adventure in our household. Dealing with a hormonal girl who turns 13 in a few months.
Damn I feel old.
The college thing that I was so excited about is beginning to wear on me. I have done all that I was supposed to and I am still not enrolled. There was a “random” selection to have my financial aid reviewed. This entails me driving 40 minutes, filling out a paper, handing over my last year’s taxes and going about my merry way. Simple you think? Of course it is, but this “random” selection has selected us, randomly of course, three fucking times.
I am worried about Chris’ suspension. We did all the paperwork needed and turned it in and now it is up to the Dean of Student Services to decide if he is going to get it or not. My head is pounding from the stress.
I think I am smoking more now then before. I can’t help it. My nerves are shot. How am I going to juggle my family, a full time job, and be a full time student? I am scared, maybe this is not something I should have done right now. I am afraid of failing the classes, when will have time to study? I spend every waking minute working or taking care of things that need to be done.
I love Chris and he does help around the house. He makes the kid keep it pretty nice. He does not however, do the little things that I do that I like done. I don’t bother to bring this up to him, because face it ladies, I’ll be damned if I am going to bitch at my husband over doing the housework >my< way when most women are bitching at their husbands to get any of it done. I do appreciate what he does. He makes sure the floors are picked up, vacuumed regularly. I never come home to a dirty kitchen or a nasty bathroom. The garbage may not always be taken out to the dumpster, but it is pulled out the trash bin so that I’m not fighting to throw something away when I am cooking myself something to eat. I will not complain to him that they didn’t sweep along the edges of the wall, or the stairs before vacuuming, or that the entertainment center is not dusted.
This however, means that on my days off, I do all of the bills, I do the laundry; I have to do any kind of paperwork that might need done. Contact people by phone when it is needed. Like, today, I had to call the bank and ask them why there was $40.00 in overdraft charges for my account considering that the money was there. Once I found out that www.gamefly.com, which we have had a subscription through for a year now, charged us 10 days early, I had to call them and find out way. After 45 minutes on the phone with no real answer, and about six years of aggravation, I was hung up on when I asked her to cancel our account. We have been talking about it for a while; their turn around time is horrible. We dealt with that, but this, the way I was treated, was the icing on the cake and I will never go through them again, even if they built a shipping facility next door to us. I can not stand people who are rude and obnoxious. I think my biggest issue, next to the money, was this bitch had the audacity to ask me “Why didn’t you just call us?” to which my reply was “Well you have no number listed on your website anywhere to which you can be reached, it took me three days to find this number” “Oh, well I have an account and I know it’s on there” in her snotty little freaking tone. “Yeah? Well I’m on the website now, please direct me, so she gave me some bullshit run around “Click this, Click that” and I’m like “ Look, I did what you said, I even typed in “customer service number” and the only thing that comes up is “How Do I Activate Parental Controls?” so if that is your number, I got it lady.” Second person I spoke to assured me that the number is not listed on their website. I was so freaking pissed. Can we tell?
To add to the joy that is my life, my daughter started her period for the first time today. Here is a little excerpt from our conversation. Be forewarned if you are squeamish, this is not a conversation for you to read.
So, daughter calls me into the bathroom, shows me, and I respond with "Right, so, here are your pads we bought you, this is how you put them on your panties. Any questions?"
Her: >two hours later< this isn't so bad mom, I have this pain in my leg right here, but, it's just a small "cramp", I don’t see the big deal.
I look at where she is pointing to the outside of her hip “That’s not where it will cramp”
Her: >two hours later< MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM MY STOMACH HUUUUUUUUURTS! MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP!
So, I force down a grin and hunt down Tylenol.
Daughter: mom, how do I know when to change this thing?
Me: well... you change it when it's full
Daughter: full of what?
Me: ... blood?
Daughter: well my teacher says it isn't all blood; it has mucus in there too
Me: that isn't the point!
Daughter: does that mean she was wrong?
Me: no, it means I didn't feel like saying "when it is full of blood and mucus"!
Chris >holds hands over ears< LALALLALALLALALALALLA
Daughter: what's wrong with him?
So begins a great new adventure in our household. Dealing with a hormonal girl who turns 13 in a few months.
Damn I feel old.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
True Love
So, I’m not doing so well in keeping up with my New Year’s resolutions. I can tell because I am still not getting on to post every day. I have no excuses for yesterday other then I was busy spending time with Chris playing video games.
I am letting go of the hurt from my mom and moving on to dealing with other things. There was a glitch in my financial aid for school so I am still waiting to see if I am going to go this year or not. Chris was placed on suspension because of failing the one class so I have been working on his appeal. All I can do is pray that the dean reinstates his student loans, we can not afford to repay them all right.
So, on happier news, my five year old has decided he is going to read “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” all by himself, only, he reads out loud and he’s so funny. When his sister stepped in to help him, he told her she was reading too fast, there was no way for her “savor the story”.
The following conversation also took place.
Youngest son: I am going to marry you.
Daughter: You can’t marry me, I have a boyfriend.
Youngest son: Well I’ll beat him up and marry you.
Daughter: You’re too small to beat him up.
Youngest son: I’ll use Dad’s workout machine and get big, then I’ll hold your hand tightly and we’ll get married.
Daughter: >sounds exasperated< I have a boyfriend.
Youngest son: Who ZAAAAAACK? I’ll beat him up, I’ll use Dad’s workout and get big and strong and beat him up and he won’t be able to do anything but cry like a girl.
Daughter: >sounds irritated< You are NOT going to beat up my boyfriend and marry me, I like my boyfriend!
Youngest son: >sounds all hurt< But.. don’t you love me?
Daughter: >sighs< Of course I love you
Youngest son: >sounds triumphant< See! We will get married because you like Zack but you >LOVE< me! And I know all your favorite things, and I will make you dinner and let you take your bath before me. I'll even let you pick which movie you want to watch first.
Daughter: Talk to me when you’re 25
Of course, for him, he only understands that when two people love each other they get married. I found the interaction, and the fact that he doesn’t want to lose her very sweet. Chris and I were talking about it and I told him I wasn’t terribly worried, we’d see where things stand when he’s sixteen.
I am letting go of the hurt from my mom and moving on to dealing with other things. There was a glitch in my financial aid for school so I am still waiting to see if I am going to go this year or not. Chris was placed on suspension because of failing the one class so I have been working on his appeal. All I can do is pray that the dean reinstates his student loans, we can not afford to repay them all right.
So, on happier news, my five year old has decided he is going to read “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” all by himself, only, he reads out loud and he’s so funny. When his sister stepped in to help him, he told her she was reading too fast, there was no way for her “savor the story”.
The following conversation also took place.
Youngest son: I am going to marry you.
Daughter: You can’t marry me, I have a boyfriend.
Youngest son: Well I’ll beat him up and marry you.
Daughter: You’re too small to beat him up.
Youngest son: I’ll use Dad’s workout machine and get big, then I’ll hold your hand tightly and we’ll get married.
Daughter: >sounds exasperated< I have a boyfriend.
Youngest son: Who ZAAAAAACK? I’ll beat him up, I’ll use Dad’s workout and get big and strong and beat him up and he won’t be able to do anything but cry like a girl.
Daughter: >sounds irritated< You are NOT going to beat up my boyfriend and marry me, I like my boyfriend!
Youngest son: >sounds all hurt< But.. don’t you love me?
Daughter: >sighs< Of course I love you
Youngest son: >sounds triumphant< See! We will get married because you like Zack but you >LOVE< me! And I know all your favorite things, and I will make you dinner and let you take your bath before me. I'll even let you pick which movie you want to watch first.
Daughter: Talk to me when you’re 25
Of course, for him, he only understands that when two people love each other they get married. I found the interaction, and the fact that he doesn’t want to lose her very sweet. Chris and I were talking about it and I told him I wasn’t terribly worried, we’d see where things stand when he’s sixteen.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Let Down
Right, so it is not my fault that I did not blog. My computer has been being worked on since my last post. Not that anything major went wrong with it, but for some reason it wouldn’t let me play the game we pay fifteen dollars a month for.
So, I have been writing down what I was going to post about. Had something great written, but, then my mother called me. As I’ve mentioned, they have been talking about moving here for months. They said they we were just waiting for the spring to arrive so that they wouldn’t have to travel in the middle of winter.
Chris told me not to get my hopes up. I did anyway. Imagining all the fun things about being around my mother that I’ve missed. I would an adult to go to church with me and the kids. I would have someone to play cards with and cook for once in a while. Someone that spend time with my kids, my mother loves to sew and craft and I just don’t have time for it much anymore with me working and getting ready to go to school. My sewing machine hasn’t been threaded in probably two years. I miss her spontaneity, she shows up at the house, wants to take me shopping or to lunch, or to get my hair done.
I don’t go out anywhere, I stay at home with Chris. One reason is because he won’t allow me to, but also because it is where I am most comfortable. When we lived near my mom, she was the one person who could coax me out of the house and I was looking forward to it.
I was looking forward to spending time with my father, watching him interact with my kids. I miss his stories about when he was a kid and what it was like to grow up so long ago. I miss hugging him. He is the most huggable man I know besides Chris.
I am disappointed, but all I could say when she told me was “You have to do what feels right for you” It is what my dad said to me when we moved away. I couldn’t make him feel bad for his decision.
I worry about what my mother is going to do when my father dies. My brother’s will descend like a pack of wolves on his stuff, not offering any comfort to her at all. I worry that I have missed my last chance to see him alive and see him spend time with my kids.
I wish I could change things, but, everything happens for a reason. I have to keep telling myself that or I will go absolutely crazy. I can only pray that God gives me strength to get through this disappointment.
I should be used to my mother letting me down, she’s done it to me my whole life, but it still hurts so badly. I wish I could stop needing her love and approval so much. Most of all, I pray that I never make any of my kids feel like this.
So, I have been writing down what I was going to post about. Had something great written, but, then my mother called me. As I’ve mentioned, they have been talking about moving here for months. They said they we were just waiting for the spring to arrive so that they wouldn’t have to travel in the middle of winter.
Chris told me not to get my hopes up. I did anyway. Imagining all the fun things about being around my mother that I’ve missed. I would an adult to go to church with me and the kids. I would have someone to play cards with and cook for once in a while. Someone that spend time with my kids, my mother loves to sew and craft and I just don’t have time for it much anymore with me working and getting ready to go to school. My sewing machine hasn’t been threaded in probably two years. I miss her spontaneity, she shows up at the house, wants to take me shopping or to lunch, or to get my hair done.
I don’t go out anywhere, I stay at home with Chris. One reason is because he won’t allow me to, but also because it is where I am most comfortable. When we lived near my mom, she was the one person who could coax me out of the house and I was looking forward to it.
I was looking forward to spending time with my father, watching him interact with my kids. I miss his stories about when he was a kid and what it was like to grow up so long ago. I miss hugging him. He is the most huggable man I know besides Chris.
I am disappointed, but all I could say when she told me was “You have to do what feels right for you” It is what my dad said to me when we moved away. I couldn’t make him feel bad for his decision.
I worry about what my mother is going to do when my father dies. My brother’s will descend like a pack of wolves on his stuff, not offering any comfort to her at all. I worry that I have missed my last chance to see him alive and see him spend time with my kids.
I wish I could change things, but, everything happens for a reason. I have to keep telling myself that or I will go absolutely crazy. I can only pray that God gives me strength to get through this disappointment.
I should be used to my mother letting me down, she’s done it to me my whole life, but it still hurts so badly. I wish I could stop needing her love and approval so much. Most of all, I pray that I never make any of my kids feel like this.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Training
In keeping with my resolution, here I am to write for today. Not a lot has happened. I went to work and had my first taste of my new position. I am scared and nervous. It is very challenging and I don’t feel like I am getting the proper training. I am also afraid to complain about the training because I do not want to be seen as someone who complains a lot. They trained me for 2.5 hours for a job that most people spend 40 hours training for. To top it off, I was informed that one of the team leads would be taking vacation and I would be taking his team for the next nine days. Oh hell.
>sighs<
I must work on my confidence.
I spent New Years Eve with Chris and the kids. We got them sparkling white grape juice. They called it champagne. We had wine coolers. Then we ordered pizza. It was so relaxing. We spent the night playing video games and rang the New Year in as a family and to me; it was one of the best ways I could think of.
Well, in keeping up with the resolutions, I am going to post each day on how I intend to achieve them.
The first goal is to quite smoking. In order to do this, I am going to wait until we get our taxes and then buy the patch. To keep my hands busy I am going to buy myself some puzzle books to work on when I need a smoke. I am also going to pray a lot. I know that I can do this, but it will be hard.
Well, I think this is about all I have to say for today. I am still waiting for some spare time to move all of my archives over to their new home so this kind of stuff can be posted over there. Hope all is going well with all of you.
>sighs<
I must work on my confidence.
I spent New Years Eve with Chris and the kids. We got them sparkling white grape juice. They called it champagne. We had wine coolers. Then we ordered pizza. It was so relaxing. We spent the night playing video games and rang the New Year in as a family and to me; it was one of the best ways I could think of.
Well, in keeping up with the resolutions, I am going to post each day on how I intend to achieve them.
The first goal is to quite smoking. In order to do this, I am going to wait until we get our taxes and then buy the patch. To keep my hands busy I am going to buy myself some puzzle books to work on when I need a smoke. I am also going to pray a lot. I know that I can do this, but it will be hard.
Well, I think this is about all I have to say for today. I am still waiting for some spare time to move all of my archives over to their new home so this kind of stuff can be posted over there. Hope all is going well with all of you.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
A New Year
A new year is upon us much quicker then I had anticipated. I have spent a lot of time reflecting on 2005.
For the first time in a long time I am looking forward to the exciting things that will be happening this year. I am ready to put 2005 behind me.
So many bad things have happened this year. I lost my job of two years which caused me to miss my niece’s wedding. We ended up with mice when they cut the woods down near our apartment. I was sick several times. Chris failed on his classes. We went to war with my father in law. We were investigated by social services. I went to court for unpaid fines, driving without a license, driving without insurance, as well as driving with outdated tags. My children were exposed to, and allowed to handle firearms by adults in their lives who are not responsible enough to be teaching them that. My cousin Charlie was laid to rest.
However, despite all of the bad things that happened, there were a lot of good things that happened as well. Chris did finish the first quarter of school with a 4.0. I found a job that I like better, that pays more money, that is less stressful, that is more appreciative of the things I have to offer as an employee. At that job, I managed to get a promotion in less then a year, beating out others who have been there for nearly nine years. Our children spent the summer with my family, which gave Chris and me some much needed time. My cousin came and spent some time with us. I have blogged with more regularity then before. I did loose some weight. My youngest son started school. I started school. I met great people here in blogland and have made, what I can only hope, are life long connections. I have made huge strides in improving myself, how I look at things, controlling my emotions. I am not all the way where I want to be, but I am heading straight for it.
I like New Years because the last year I can set things that happened in the last year, on a shelf, and start over. I love having a fresh slate to work with and I am full of resolutions. I have a lot, but I also have an entire year in which to accomplish the things I want to do. So, here is my list of resolutions for the New Year.
1) Quit Smoking
2) Loose weight
3) Fix my credit
4) Get “temple ready”
5) Get Chris’ license back
6) Make it through the 1st year of school
7) Blog once a day
8) Buy a new vehicle
9) Sort through all my pictures and get them so I can make back up disks
10) Make scrap books for all my kids out of their old school work
I am going to keep coming back to these during the year, updating to see how I’m doing, but before I do that, I am going to put in a plan of action for each goal. Each thing has a detailed list of the smaller things I can do to help myself reach the big goals.
In my blogging goal, it is going to be extra hard because I am working on moving my past/present stuff over to a new blog so that this one can go back to being what it was intended for. Someday, when my ashes have been spread in the mountains, I want my kids to be able to read about my life, read about my past, their childhood, my marriage with Chris. However, I do not want them to read about the kinky sex stuff in our lives, or the fantasies that I sometimes have. I think that is a little too much information. So, for now I will keep updating here, but when I do get everything moved over, I will alternate where I post on my blogs each day. There is just no way that I can make two blog entries each day.
I hope and pray that all you have a great 2006. In my heart I long for peace in my life and that extends to those I love. I am looking forward, I hope you all are too.
For the first time in a long time I am looking forward to the exciting things that will be happening this year. I am ready to put 2005 behind me.
So many bad things have happened this year. I lost my job of two years which caused me to miss my niece’s wedding. We ended up with mice when they cut the woods down near our apartment. I was sick several times. Chris failed on his classes. We went to war with my father in law. We were investigated by social services. I went to court for unpaid fines, driving without a license, driving without insurance, as well as driving with outdated tags. My children were exposed to, and allowed to handle firearms by adults in their lives who are not responsible enough to be teaching them that. My cousin Charlie was laid to rest.
However, despite all of the bad things that happened, there were a lot of good things that happened as well. Chris did finish the first quarter of school with a 4.0. I found a job that I like better, that pays more money, that is less stressful, that is more appreciative of the things I have to offer as an employee. At that job, I managed to get a promotion in less then a year, beating out others who have been there for nearly nine years. Our children spent the summer with my family, which gave Chris and me some much needed time. My cousin came and spent some time with us. I have blogged with more regularity then before. I did loose some weight. My youngest son started school. I started school. I met great people here in blogland and have made, what I can only hope, are life long connections. I have made huge strides in improving myself, how I look at things, controlling my emotions. I am not all the way where I want to be, but I am heading straight for it.
I like New Years because the last year I can set things that happened in the last year, on a shelf, and start over. I love having a fresh slate to work with and I am full of resolutions. I have a lot, but I also have an entire year in which to accomplish the things I want to do. So, here is my list of resolutions for the New Year.
1) Quit Smoking
2) Loose weight
3) Fix my credit
4) Get “temple ready”
5) Get Chris’ license back
6) Make it through the 1st year of school
7) Blog once a day
8) Buy a new vehicle
9) Sort through all my pictures and get them so I can make back up disks
10) Make scrap books for all my kids out of their old school work
I am going to keep coming back to these during the year, updating to see how I’m doing, but before I do that, I am going to put in a plan of action for each goal. Each thing has a detailed list of the smaller things I can do to help myself reach the big goals.
In my blogging goal, it is going to be extra hard because I am working on moving my past/present stuff over to a new blog so that this one can go back to being what it was intended for. Someday, when my ashes have been spread in the mountains, I want my kids to be able to read about my life, read about my past, their childhood, my marriage with Chris. However, I do not want them to read about the kinky sex stuff in our lives, or the fantasies that I sometimes have. I think that is a little too much information. So, for now I will keep updating here, but when I do get everything moved over, I will alternate where I post on my blogs each day. There is just no way that I can make two blog entries each day.
I hope and pray that all you have a great 2006. In my heart I long for peace in my life and that extends to those I love. I am looking forward, I hope you all are too.
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