everything.

•October 11, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Well I’m almost 100% sure that nobody even checks this site anymore as it’s been eons since I’ve written anything. I don’t know what this post is going to be about but since I believe no one will actually read it I’m just going to do a free writing type of post. And it’s not going to be funny because I don’t feel funny these days. Mostly I just feel like killing myself. That is not a cry for help, because I would not actually do it, I just feel like doing it.

Let me start by saying this: being a single parent sucks big huge donkey balls. I hate this. I absolutely fucking hate this. I can’t put into words how much I hate this. I say it and it sounds pathetic and whiney and like I’m looking for sympathy which maybe I am. All I know is that I am miserable 90%, if not more, of the time. I want to be held while I sob, for about a month. Maybe then, all this pain that is in my head and in my heart would go away. But I doubt it. I am living in a constant state of stress and fear and exhaustion and worry. No one should have to live like this. Sometimes I don’t even feel like I know how to laugh anymore. Make no mistake I can put on a fairly good facade. People that don’t know me would think I am just fine. Those that know me well might think I’m just having a bad day. Nobody really sees what I’m feeling. You absolutely cannot understand the desperation and heartache and all consuming terror that comes with single parenthood unless you’ve been there yourself.

I know I have it better than so many people but all I can think about is how much worse I have it than I used to. I had a good life. I had a husband that loved me (or so I thought), two beautiful children, a house that I loved, a life as a stay at home mom which enabled me to play and love on my babies as much as I wanted to each and every day. But then when I really start to think about it I’m not so sure how good I did have it. My husband and I fought constantly, we never had sex, we rarely ate meals together, we almost never went on dates together, we were like roommates instead of husband and wife. All of these things contributed to the demise of our marriage which in turn led to the demise of our family. I could write books about the guilt I feel about my children not growing up with both of their parents, that guilt is enough to bring me to my knees sometimes. I hate more than anything what their father and I have done to them. They are changed forever and will never be the same, will never look at relationships the way they could have. All because of the stupidity of their parents.

This is by far the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. Post partum depression? Nothing compared to this. I am everything, EVERYTHING to these two small people. That is unbelievably overwhelming to me. The fact that I am barely, by the skin of my teeth, providing for them is terrifying. I bounced three checks today. How am I supposed to pay for haircuts and winter coats and school lunches and new shoes and snow pants and groceries and heat and gas and electricity on what I make at my three jobs? I sometimes don’t get my paycheck from one job until days after I’m supposed to. This is a huge problem. My third job (makeup artist) pays nothing as I always do everyones makeup for free. I look for other jobs, no one will talk to me. No one sees my potential. No one believes I can do it. I’m starting to not believe I can do it either.

I struggle with my faith each and every day. I pray and I try to be the best person I can be and I believe in God and I know that He has a plan for me. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. I don’t know how I’m supposed to put all my faith in Him and believe that someday His plan for me will be revealed. Right now it feels like every single day I’m being tested with something new. Whether it’s lice brought home from school on my sweet boy’s head or the stomach flu or bouncing checks at the bank or something going wrong with my car or my daughters Brownie uniform costing over $50 or the fact that the man that I love lives 900 miles away from me and there’s no one to hold me at night while I cry the day away. I keep thinking that things are finally turning around for me, I’ll have a good couple of days and then BAM, something happens that throws me off course again. It’s incredibly discouraging and disheartening and I honestly don’t know how much more I can take.

Sometimes I sit and stare at my beautiful children and wonder if I could just leave. If I could just get up while they’re at school one day and drive away and never look back. But I know I couldn’t. As hard as my life is and as depressed as I can get, I could never, never be without my children. They are everything to me, my life, my breath, my loves. Just looking at their sweet faces and feeling their soft little hugs is often all that gets me through. One of my biggest fears is that when they get old enough to realize they could make a choice that they might choose to live with their dad instead of me. I’m pretty sure that would rip my heart in half. I can only hope that never happens.

I am exhausted from doing everything by myself. I know that lots of stay at home moms or moms in general feel as if they do everything themselves and sometimes they do. But when it is really only you it is completely different. When I was married I had someone to mow the lawn, I had someone to occasionally make a meal, I had someone to dry off one kid while I washed the other one, I had someone to help clean up the vomit at 3am. Now it is just me. Me. Me and only me. I do EVERYTHING alone. Every single meal, every single reminder to do this or that, every single grocery and gas trip, every single bill, EVERYTHING is me. It is absolutely overwhelming. Today I had to take off work because my son is sick. He threw up this morning, this after a weekend of trying to remove all the lice and nits from his head that he brought home from school. Now tonight my daughter is complaining of an upset stomach. Does this mean I will have to take tomorrow off of work as well? Probably. My ex husband doesn’t take days off of work for his sick children. And so I will somehow have to figure out how to scrape by and pay the bills and feed the kids on even less money. Sometimes I can’t tell which is more stressful, the lack of money due to taking time off work for sick kids or the sick kids themselves. It’s exhausting taking care of a sick child. Everyone knows this.

Anyway, I’m tired. It’s 8:12pm on a Monday night and I was ready to fall asleep about an hour ago. I’m going to go crawl into my bed, alone, and talk to my boyfriend on the phone for a few minutes before I cry myself to sleep. I think I am so tired all the time anymore partly because my life is exhausting but mostly because it’s the only time I can escape my problems for a few hours. Of course when the kids are sick I don’t always even get those few hours. Maybe I’ll write more on all this bullshit tomorrow. Maybe I won’t.

Good night.

save the blogs!

•December 15, 2008 • Leave a Comment

So I’ve often wondered what would happen if my blogs just disappeared. In the past I’ve gone back and copied and pasted my entries into a program like Microsoft Word but that was a pain and I often forgot to do it. Now there’s a solution! Head over to 

http://www.bloggled.com

 

and check them out. They have several choices of ways to backup your blog and even offer the opportunity to have a book made of your blog! Cool stuff. Seriously.

clearly I am not leading an interesting enough “do-over” life.

•October 8, 2008 • Leave a Comment


I have nothing worthwhile to say lately so get a laugh at Heather Annes blog instead:

August 25, 2008

Everybody loves a hero

I am standing third in a six-deep queue, waiting to pay five dollars for a strawberry-banana smoothie. In front of the ten-year-old girl in front of me is an off-duty smoothie-maker who is smarmily flirting with the only on-duty smoothie-maker in the whole shop.

“Do you remember what I like?” he asks.

She does not.

“Do you remember my employee number?” he asks.

She does not.

“Do you remember my name?” he asks.

She does not.

“Guess,” he tells her.

“Guess what?” she asks.

“My name,” he says.

She refuses.

“C’mon,” he says. “Just try.”

She shakes her head; he leans on the counter. “I’m not leaving until you remember my name.”

Behind him, the ten-year-old girl says loudly, “If I tell you your name, will you leave?”

“How do you know my name?” he asks, whipping his head around.

“Because,” the girl says, “Your mom has stitched it inside your underwear and it’s hanging out of the back of your pants.”

Within moments I am paying for that child’s smoothie. She likes the Berry Bada Bing: peaches, raspberries, bananas, yogurt, and one crucial shot of booster blast.

 

That Heather Anne writes good stuff I tell ya. Seriously.

coolness: a learned characteristic.

•July 27, 2008 • 2 Comments

Overheard at the pool at Gooses’ daycamp yesterday…..

9ish boy to 6ish girl:

“Watch me! Watch me! Watch me!!!!!!”

“Watch me do a handstand!!! I can do a handstand underwater!!!! I can do a handstand underwater ONE HANDED!!!!!!”

“Watch me do a handstand with ONE HAND!!! WATCH ME!!!!!!”……”I can do it ONE HANDED…..I have to plug my nose”

And with that last comment the cool factor flew right out the window. I mean a ONE HANDED underwater handstand would be super cool…if you weren’t using your other hand to plug your nose that is. No wonder she didn’t watch his masterful underwater feat, instead looking up at me and rolling her eyes. Seriously.

grass and beer.

•July 23, 2008 • 1 Comment

No not that kind of grass you druggies although that kind of grass would probably make this post infinitely more interesting now wouldn’t it? No I am referring to the kind of grass that grows under our feet. The kind of grass that helps us to remember our childhood. The kind of grass that reminds us why we don’t live in the desert. The kind of grass that I have a supreme love/hate relationship with right now.

So one of the things my ex did that I actually under-appreciated about him was mowing the grass. Turns out I hate mowing the yard. I used to bitch at him to do it more often and was often heard muttering the words “goddamn, it can’t be that difficult, I think I might actually enjoy doing it”. BWAH! Yeah, I hate mowing the yard. I know this because I have done it………once. There are bugs out there people. BUGS. I am not a fan of the bugs. Anyone who has ever mowed a yard knows that when you disturb the grass by either walking over it (which is why I am a sidewalk walker) or mowing it……..bugs fly out!!!!! Enough said. Not to mention the fact that you get all sweaty doing it. I am not a fan of sweat. Let me rephrase that, I am not a fan of sweat unless there is hot monkey lovin’ to go along with the sweating. And lets face it there is no monkey love being passed around whilst mowing a yard. 

We’ve lived in this little rental house of ours since December and the grass here has been mowed three times. The first time was by a dear friends husband, most likely out of pity and because they were tired of driving by my house and forgetting for a second that they lived in town and do not in fact live in the jungle. The second time was by me. This time again because of the whole jungle thing, and because my ex finally brought over the mower and showed me how to operate it in a very superior “I’ve been mowing yards my whole life” sort of tone. I will say he did have cause to use a superior tone however. Mostly because he has been mowing yards his whole life and also just maybe perhaps because I stooopidly told him the story about accidentally putting motor oil in the gas tank of my fathers mower when my dad mistakenly thought I was old enough and intelligent enough to take over the mowing of our family yard. Ha. Little did he know. I in fact was old enough and intelligent enough, I just had other things on my mind when he was explaining how to operate the mower to me. Like boys. And more boys. And again with the boys.

The third time my yard got mowed was by my neighbors kid. I called over there and asked my supremely sweet neighbor if one of her boys would be interested in mowing my yard for a smallish fee because A. I hate mowing and 2. I had to leave town and it needed to be done before I would be back and D. I hate mowing. I gave him 20 bucks to mow and weed whack my yard. Neighbor kid mistakenly thought his parents had a weed whacker and when it turned out they didn’t, he had to do the weeds by hand. Wow. Probably shoulda paid him more than 20 bucks but who’s counting right? 

Sadly I do not have the fundage to pay the aforementioned neighbor kid to mow the yard this time so I am forced to mow it myself later today. Ugh. I see bugs in my future and I’m soooooo not happy about it.

Do you think my supremely sweet neighbor would be offended if I offered to pay her 12 year old son in beer instead of with a twenty? Because beer I have plenty of, twenties? Not so much. Seriously.

tmi.

•May 15, 2008 • 2 Comments

So a friend of mine was asking me to explain to her what this whole blog phenom is about. She didn’t have any experience with blogs so when I sent out the email about this blog she replied asking what exactly a blog was. I responded by explaining that a blog is essentially an online journal. That it was an opportunity for her to read my innermost thoughts and emotions. I think she thought this was pretty funny. She mentioned that she didn’t know why anyone would want to read about her innermost thoughts and emotions. Now either hers aren’t as interesting as mine are, or she’s just smarter than me and knows that no one actually gives a shit, and that my readers are simply reading to kill time at work, reading so that they can feel better about themselves, or reading to avoid their own equally pathetic lives. 

All of this talk about blogs did get me thinking about my reasons for blogging. I stood in a boiling hot shower this morning (the only way to shower people) and reflected on why I feel the need to spill my guts to the world about everything from my kids poops to my love life. Here’s what I came up with:

1. I am an exhibitionist of sorts. Now I’m not just talking about sex in public places although that is good too, ahem. I’m talking about the need to lay it all out there for anyone and everyone to see. I’ve always been a tmi kind of gal. I don’t hold back. I’m not shy when it comes to talking about myself or the people around me. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I wear my brain on my sleeve too for that matter. Ask me anything you want and I will give you an honest answer. Some people see this as a flaw or just simply annoying. I see it as being real. I like what I’m about and I’m not afraid to tell you so. Consider this fair warning. If you’re not a tmi kind of person or you’re easily offended you may want to avoid any future posts by me and certainly don’t go back and read the old blogs

2. As pathetically Ms. America as it sounds I truly believe that at some point I may actually have something to say that might help another human being out there. Maybe someone is having trouble with their divorce, or their kids behavior, or their insatiable desire to twirl strands of their hair in their fingers. Either way, I might be able to help someone. Now this assumes that what I have to say is worth repeating and that it is good advice or that I’m setting some sort of a good example. I like to pretend that these things are all true. You may disagree, and if so…fuck off. Kidding. Mostly. But seriously, generally I think I’m right about most things and those of you that know me know I’m not afraid to say so. I just did in fact. Hmm.

3. I’m a blog reader. This means I feel a bit obligated to return the favor. Now I know that most of the people whose blogs I read have absolutely zero interest in reading mine but I still feel the need to reciprocate a bit. Feel like I should return the favor. Plus I can dream that dooce will someday discover me and turn this whole little game of mine around. She’ll start reading my blog for inspiration instead of how it is now. Now I would be the one reading her blog looking for inspiration. Looking for a good laugh. Looking for a good cry. Looking for a reason to go on in life. Kidding. Heh. 

But really people, as long as I continue to find somewhat interesting things to share with you I will continue to blog. Once it becomes work though, I’m outta here. So go on….get out there and fuck up something in your life. I need something to write about! I need inspiration people!!! Seriously.

and so it begins again.

•May 12, 2008 • 5 Comments

It’s time. Time for me to get back to some of what I thought to be my life before the shit all hit the fan. That means it’s time for the blogging to begin anew. I make no promises as to how long it will last this time or for that matter how good it will be but here we are anyway. Bear with me people, ignore all the typos and the punctuation mistakes because as any of you who read my former blog know, punctuation runs amok amongst the words I pen. I taught first grade afterall, not 10th grade English. If I manage to get a period at the end of each sentence as opposed to after each word you should count yourselves frickin lucky. More to come soon. Seriously.

 
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