Suck It

Little Red declared that when grows up he was going to start a band called Kiss My Ass. Have I mentioned that he's 8 years old? I don't know where he gets this stuff. The Catholic school that I'm selling body parts to pay for, I suppose. I tried desperately NOT to so much as smirk until I impressed upon him that that language will not be tolerated. Then I went into the next room and closed the door and laughed my ass off.

Now, my friend and I decided today that we're going to start our own band. We're going to call it Suck It. So, one day in the future you may see a concert tour Kiss My Ass opening for Suck It. We are seeking sponsors...we doubt Nickelodeon will pick it up. But, if we wait just a few years we think AARP might sponsor us. Or maybe Viagra.

LR and I bought some new stuff for ourselves today. Rare for me, not so much for him. I bought new CDs and he bought Bakugan...think Pokemon, but instead of cards they are tiny plastic balls that when laid on a magnetic surface pop open into some sort of creature with a point value on it's stomach...at least that's about all I can gather from it. Huge choking hazard if you have little ones in the house. Of the 4 or 5 CDs I bought for me, I thought that I should probably make sure that one of them was appropriate for little ears...since all of the rest of them have a parental warning. So, I bought the Jonas Brothers. I played one of my CDs in the car...and it wasn't bad...no bad language or anything. LR loved it. Then I decided to put on the Jonas Brothers...so my kid can get into kid music. Well, I start dancing and singing. I'm having a good time and thinking "Okay. The Jonas Brothers are not so bad." I turn to look at LR to see if he's enjoying the music and he's making that yawn face and staring out the window. He asks me to put Muse back on. What's the problem here? Peppy music that's geared towards kids. Hmmmmm. I should have gotten Miley Cyrus or something. Maybe it's that the Jonas Brothers sing to their legions of FEMALE FANS. So, I guess I didn't think that purchase through. Now I guess I'll be the one listening to the Jonas Brothers until my 1year old Doodlebug is old enough to appreciate the music. She'll probably be as warped as her brother and would rather listen to Linkin Park or something when she's 4 instead of anything Disney would put out. So, I'll be the only one listening to the Jonas Brother...or worse yet...High School Musical. Maybe someone should just put a bullet in me now.

Never Enough

Somewhere in the back of my mind it's always been there. Where did my complete lack of self worth come from? Where did my need to become what others wanted me to be in my teens and early 20's come from? Why was I hopelessly co-dependent back then? Why have I never had self confidence?

It has all been coming back to me. It came crashing down on me last night. She was always overly critical of Everyone and Everything, but especially of me. She still is. She has never had confidence in me. She has never believed in me. Therefore, I have never believed in myself. She criticized EVERY decision I've ever made. She criticized everything about me...my hair, my face, my weight, my clothes...everything. She used to say that if she died, I should jump into the grave with her because I wouldn't be able to survive without her. Today she criticizes my parenting skills, my abilities as a wife, still the way I look and dress, the decisions I make. Nothing I do is right. She takes the life out of everything for me. Everything. It doesn't matter what I do or what I say, nothing I do will ever be enough for her. She will never be able to accept me as I am. She will never offer words of encouragement. She will never see the pain that she's caused me and see what unimaginable horrors that I've endured over the years because of the overwhelming need I had to be what others wanted me to be. She will never understand that. Why is it so hurtful even as I am staring at 40? I'm not enough. I'm never going to be enough. Not for her. Never in her eyes.

I've developed a fairly thick skin over the years so that it doesn't affect me as often as it used to. But, from time to time...it's like getting the wind knocked out of you. This time is the worst because I came to the complete and total realization last night that it will never get better. I'm not enough and I never will be. The only way to save myself in this situation is to find a way to...push her out of my life. Can that be right? It seems so extreme...even in the name of self preservation. But I can't survive the gut wrenching depression that threatened to take my life years ago. I'm finally at a point in my life where happiness is woven into almost every fiber of my life. I can't afford to let this drag me back down under the depths of the crushing weight of pain the she causes me. I hate being around her. I hate talking to her. I find myself wishing horrible things...and that is truly an awful feeling...but, sadly, more bearable than the way she makes me feel with her condescending bullshit.

Now that I truly understand that I will never be enough, where do I go from here?

Multiple methods

I've mentioned before that I was recently diagnosed with Type II diabetes. No big deal. Easily managed. May be life altering, but not life ending. So, I went to see the diabetic nurse (their term, not mine) to get information about having to test my blood sugar and the medications I'm on...blah...blah...blah. I wasn't born yesterday and I was already pretty well informed. But, staying true to the uncomfortable nature of my recent medical appointments at the hospital she asked what form of birth control I was using. I told her that my husband and I are practicing abstinence since the two of us are rarely home awake at the same time without the kids around. The most action I've gotten lately was an impure thought about a certain actor that plays a vampire in a movie I like to call Oh My God! I Totally Wish I Was That Chick In Twilight. Go me. After composing herself, this nurse proceeds to tell me that we need to use MULTIPLE METHODS of birth control (apparently, abstinence isn't enough) because a side effect of one of the medications I'm on is pregnancy. (This little tidbit should have been on the fucking bottle...in fact, they can leave off the name of the medication and just put in large bold letters on the label THIS SHIT WILL MAKE YOU GROW PEOPLE!!! I had already been on this for 2 weeks!!!!!!!!) MULTIPLE METHODS. So, in addition to abstinence we should make sure that he's capped at all times and I'm dosing myself with Mirena AND a full months worth of the pill each day...you know...just in case his sperm can somehow get out of his body (and I don't want to know how), catch the cross town bus, break into the house, locate me and not have me beat to death each one of those fuckers, make it through multiple layers of clothing...just to find one of my old, decrepit eggs sitting on a porch in there and somehow get the old biddy to be warm and welcoming. (Ewwww...that's a mental picture that even I don't need) That's one powerful fucking medication.

Let me say...I love my kids. Until recently, I wanted one more. But, you know what? I have 2 gorgeous, incredible children and that is more than enough for me. I have my family and I'm done.

So...to add a couple more methods to this madness...the husband will be fixed (either by a professional in the hospital or by me at home...his choice) and I plan to have (as my friend likes to say) everything scooped out and have a sacrificial burning in the corner to make sure that God (or Mother Nature or Buddha or Allah or whoever/whatever you believe in) doesn't play any more jokes at my expense.

Couple's night out during Mardi Gras Weekend...or Poor planning on my part

My husband and I decided to head to the French Quarter the Saturday before Mardi Gras. Now, for those of you that have never had the pleasure of visiting the Quarter the weekend before Mardi Gras, there is no way to describe it without using words such as cluster and ass clowns. But, if you can stand to be crammed onto a nasty, dirty street with thousands of sweaty drunk people in various states of undress....then this is the place for you. The Quarter during Mardi Gras is unlike the Quarter any other time.

My dearest husband and I took a taxi down there because we didn't want to have to deal with the impossible task of finding parking...and because we knew we wouldn't be in any shape to drive. A few drinks, a few bars, some rain and bitter fucking cold later, the husband turns into a raving bitch. Apparently, he doesn't like crowds....HELLO! This is NOT his first time in the Quarter at this time of year. What the hell did he think was going to happen...the crowds would part for us like the Red Sea? Yeah...and that reminds me....the crazy psychotic Christians that feel the need to carry crosses and signs on Bourbon Street at this time of year...complete with "heavenly" security guards that look like they just broke out of prison...seriously...how many drunk ass people have you converted? All you are doing is causing bottle necks in the middle of busy pedestrian traffic as people take pictures...you know...to get the whole Mardi Gras in New Orleans effect to bring back to their friends back home.

So, hubby comes completely unglued and looks like he's ready to start a fight. Joy. I called him names that make most women cringe, but I was completely justified. I mean...we went from having a blast and being silly together to him just being a butthead. We trudge through the rain and wind to Canal Street to try to find a cab. Here's where the poor planning comes in....

EVERYONE ELSE DOWN THERE WAS HAILING CABS! Cabs get to be VERY selective when there are literally thousands of people needing them. So, no luck on Canal Street. Stark raving bitch is literally having a melt down. My God! And they say women are dramatic. We start wandering towards the river and I see Harrah's Casino. Little lightbulb goes off...there are always cabs around there so we trek there and go inside to thaw out (did I mention I didn't have a jacket...and it was raining...and the arctic winds were a-blowing). We thaw out and head to the valet area where there are only a few people trying to hail cabs. After about 30 minutes, though, I'm noticing fewer and fewer cabs coming this way, but I see tons of them on the other side of Harrahs...so we go back inside (no one asks for our ids...we both were a little insulted) and out the doors on the other side. Tons of cabs come down this street. And....at least 50 other people trying to hail them. Cabs would fly by without even slowing down. Other cabs would stop and ask people where they were going and take off because they didn't want to go there. People were literally walking into the street in front of taxis to make them stop.

FINALLY...3 HOURS after we began this little search for a cab, we finally got in one and went home.

Needless to say, the husband never wants to do it again.

Stand and face the hounds of hell

I took Little Red, my eight year old, to a birthday party at a skating rink yesterday. While I used to enjoy skating when I was younger, now when I go there, I just feel all dirty. The place is just weird now. Anyway, after helping him pry his skates on he took off "Watch how fast I can go!" I do what I always do at these things...I sat off by myself with a book (one of the Twilight books, of course). Occasionally I would stand up by the wall and watch my kid. 20 minutes of High School Musical songs later, they finally played something that I could move to without hating myself. I'd start moving to the beat...trying not to go overboard...I was at an 8 year old's birthday party, not a nightclub after all. I noticed that LR was attempting to have some kind of rhythm himself. All of the other kids were just merely skating or trying not to fall. LR was moving to the music. Swaying his little hips and dancing out there without a care in the world as to who saw him. This makes me smile because I'm trying to set the example for him that you only get one shot at life and you should make every moment count...ie. Dance like nobody is watching. He's such a hit.
So, I'm dancing on the sidelines and...okay, people are watching me...whatever. But, then the other parents start coming over to talk to me. Almost like "That poor woman. She's so lonely, it's making her crazy. Perhaps we should go talk to her." So, now I'm surrounded by several people that are wrecking my rhythm because I have to talk with them instead of letting the music move me. I can't help myself. But, I'm polite and I talk. I avoid talking to people at these types of things because I have hearing problems and the background noise makes it nearly impossible to hear and the dim lights and strobe lights make it difficult for me to see their mouths in order to read lips. So, I stay off by myself and it's all just right as rain usually. But, no...now they are starting to find me mildly interesting. Great!

LR and I could have just done our own thing and forgotten that the other people were there. He's not yet embarrassed by his mom. And, I'm not embarassed by him. How long will this last? Oh well, at least we both had fun.

If you ask me....

I think the work week should start with a strong cup of coffee and chickory and the Chipmunks version of Funkytown.

I think the work week should end with a bottle of rum and the Chipmunks version of That's How We Roll.

Anyone that uses the words Hump Day and is NOT referring to humping anything should be thrown from the roof.

If you can locate the car that the glass shattering bass is coming from, you are perfectly justified in pulling him (cause let's face it how many females do this?) through his car window and stomping him into a pile of bloody goo in the road...and then attaching battery cables to that bloody pile of goo for good measure.

The people I work with should address me in one of the following ways: "Master," "Mistress of the Dark," or perhaps just approach me on your knees and we'll just see how it goes.

If you call me "The Shankonater" don't be surprised if you actually do get shanked at some point.

Every day should have a theme....pirate day, vampire day, fetish of the day, naked day...etc.

Peanut M&M's should be included in every medically prescribed diet.

All 18 year olds should be required to spend 2-4 years in the military...not MY kids, of course...they'll be Canadian citizens before they hit their 18th birthday...I am no Spartan mother.

A work day that begins with the words "What's the statute of limitations on auto theft?" will be a pretty interesting day at work.

If you are watching a movie titled Texas Chainsaw Massacre and you and your spouse get up to leave stating this is too violent...the rest of the audience should be allowed to bring the movie violence down upon you....what part of that movie title suggested that it would be a warm and fuzzy romantic comedy...you asshat!

If you run past my desk at top speed for the 15th time today, I have the right to clothesline you and step on your throat until you pass out.

Patience

I have a problem with anger. When I used to get angry, I would break things. On one of those occasions when I was 15, I broke my finger as well as the telephone that I punched. The finger is still "broken" to this day...as a reminder of my stupidity. I am slow to burn, but once I'm pushed too far...there is an explosion. I have a hole in my wall at home that we've had to patch. I've punched walls and doors. I punched through a pane of glass on the door of my grandparents house when my cousin locked me out when I was a child.
My child seems to have inherited that temper. Since he came into my life it's like an overwhelming calm washed over me. I never ever dreamed of having the kind of patience that I have now. Granted, as he gets older and more opinionated and OBSTINATE my patience slips from time to time. I don't punch or throw or anything....but, I shriek like a banshee. Our battles over the past few years have been of the huge momentous kinds because, being like me, the angrier and louder I got, the angrier and louder he got. I tried something one time.........I remained calm (on the outside, of course...inside I was seething). It shut him down. He had no where to go if I wasn't feeding the monster. Once he realizes that I'm not budging and I'm not yelling...he goes into pout mode and just chooses not to be near me and not to talk to me. Fine. Whatever. Then, all of sudden (could be minutes later...more likely it's an hour or more later) he's apologizing and all cheerful again. It really makes me want to stab myself repeatedly. It's so unbelievably frustrating. Kids think they know everything.

My husband, however....a whole different story. He tells me he's amazed that I have infinite patience. HA! I told him my patience is not infinite. I reserve my patience for my children. For the rest of the world...WATCH OUT! If he gets a little lippy with me....ohhhhhh, it's on. Recently after I made one of my typical sarcastic remarks to him he said "Woman, do I need to slap you around to remind you who's the boss?" My reply to him...in the quiet scary voice that I use to...well, get my point across..."You could. But you would never be able to sleep safely in this house again." giggle. I love him, but damn... He and I have very similar personalities in this regard. He's slow to burn, but when he does...WATCH OUT! I've never witnessed this myself, but I've heard stories. This just proves to me that if for some reason our relationship doesn't work out, it will come crashing down around both of us...ending in someone's car being torched and someone's stuff burning on the lawn...perhaps the flaming car driving into the house for good measure. You know...something you'd see on an episode of COPS...or Jerry Springer. But, like I said...I love him and so far we have both been quite reasonable when it comes to disagreements. I think it's because perhaps we know how dirty the other will fight so, we just don't.

For other people....you know the ones....those that get under your skin simply by being alive...may God help you. I used to be a little better at smothering that side of me...and, frankly, it makes me sick. So when you come to ask me if the elevator isn't working when you have clearly been on it and pressed the button and nothing has happened.....don't get pissed at me if I look into your eyes and tell you that I'll cut you if you don't walk away from me. Don't be taken aback if after the 27th time of locking yourself out of the computer system on the same day because you've forgotten your password I calmly tell you that I'm going to set you on fire. And, if we are on the phone while you are giving me your latest complaint and droning on and on about something after I've already given you the answer, and you suddenly hear silence on my end.....RUN! I'm coming for you. This is my only warning! You are clearly too stupid to live. You are why I no longer have patience for people.

Trying to pry myself out of the Twilight zone

Okay. I admit it. I have some sort of obsessive compulsive disorder. I can live with it. Once I hit upon something that "speaks to me, " I can't help myself. I completely submerge myself in it. Before I knew I had this problem it really caused some issues and would drive me to severe depressive states because I would neglect everything else. Oh I do the typical mundane stuff that others with OCD do...things have to be in a specific order, things have to be done in a certain order, certain things have to be done or I can't sleep or concentrate or whatever. I check the alarm clock 3 times each night just to make sure it's set right and it's on. I checked the doors twice during the late night hours or I can't sleep. But, when I hit upon something....a story, a movie...just something...that pulls me in and won't let me go, I've learned not to fight it. This recently happened to me with the Twilight saga. I reluctantly read Twilight. I had no real interest in reading it. I had an idea of what it was about. I just didn't really feel that interested. Once I began the book...there was no putting it down. I couldn't stop. Something about the story was just so compelling to me. I can't quite put my finger on it. I finished it in one evening. The next day was my birthday...so, I went to the store and bought the other 3 books in the series as a gift to myself. I finished all of them in 3 days. And then.....I began slowly rereading each one. That was nearly 3 weeks ago. I have now read each one 5 times and I have no interest in stopping. I've watched the movie every day since that first day I found it. I can't stop. What is it that draws me in?


1. It could be that oh so incredibly strong desire to live forever. I'm not afraid of dying. I'm just so curious about what's going to happen in the future that I don't want to miss it. I want to stick around and maybe even be part of where the world is headed.


2. It could be Edward Cullen. Okay...he's every girls dream....he's dangerous, but he goes to such incredible lengths to keep Bella safe. He's a gentleman. He's sweet and kind and gentle. He's impossibly strong. He's romantic. He does everything he can to make Bella happy. What girl wouldn't fall madly in love with him...vampire or not?


3. It could be that I identify with Bella in some ways. The complete lack of self confidence. The all consuming guilt about the pain I've caused those I love over the years.


4. It could be because I would love to have a family like the Cullens. I would love to have a sister like Alice and brothers like Emmett and Jasper. I would love to have warm and loving parents like Carlisle and Esme.


5. It could be because I'd love to be able to hear other people's thoughts or to see the future or to be able to affect the mood of those around me.


6. It could be because I struggle with some of the same urges that the Cullens struggle with on a regular basis. Perhaps being a vampire would allow me some concessions with those...urges.





I can't pinpoint the reason why this story speaks to me. I've become so completely immersed in Twilight that I have neglected other things...like my classes and my house. But, today I have FORCED myself to start getting back to my life. I still allow myself to read the books throughout the day, but only after I've done some work. All consuming obsessions are crazy. It's like your brain rewires itself and you have no real choice but to go over and over and over and over the same stuff. However, since I accept what it is, I don't beat myself up about it. I don't allow myself to feel too badly because I know this will pass. I may always have it in my mind, but it won't continue to drive my life the way it has in the past 3 weeks.

Uncomfortable can kiss my a$$

So, since I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and high cholesterol I have been doing such a wonderful job (if I do say so myself) eating healthier and getting active. I'm making better choices...salad instead of fries, grilled chicken instead of burgers, broccoli instead of potatoes, etc. And, I have to say that I have been feeling a thousand times better. The healthier lifestyle has had an incredible effect on my mental and emotional health, as well. I've been happier...over the top crazy happy. Very bizarre, but I'm not complaining. So why if I'm feeling so much better did I decide to have a burger and fries for lunch today? I have no idea what I was thinking. Oh sure I do. I was thinking...I've been doing so well I deserve this. Well, I'm an idiot. A moron. A complete fool. Within 30 minutes of eating this greasy disgusting meal (I used to LOVE burgers and fries...I am American after all) I knew it was a mistake. I feel just miserable physically. I have this crappy over full feeling and this heavy gross feeling and it's just trying to wreck my Zen. So...goodbye greasy carb filled food. It's been great, but you are holding me back and I'm tired of it.

I went to the sleep clinic at the hospital recently to meet with a neurologist about the quality of my sleep. Apparently I don't sleep well. Who knew? Well, this had to be the most uncomfortable medical appointment that I've ever had...being fully dressed, that is. The doctor would ask me a question. I'd answer. Then he'd sit there and stare into my eyes like he was trying to peer into my soul. Then another question. I'd answer. Then more soul peering. This went on for what felt like hours, but was only about 20 minutes. Every time he did the peering thing I was trying to figure out what the hell he was doing. In my head I was asking myself..."should I say something else?" "Is he trying to will me into jumping him (he was kind of cute)" "Should I make some random bizarre comment?" I decided to be silent until he was done analyzing my soul. Frankly, if I made one of my usual disturbing comments it's entirely likely he would have had me committed that moment and...well...I like my insanity. I did think briefly of trying to turn it back around on him and stare into his eyes...but, knowing my luck he would think that I was trying to make a pass at him and I'd have a whole different set of problems right now.

Vacation plans

So, we've decided to take the kids to Disney this year. I have yet to find someone that can match my level of enthusiam with Disney...including my 8 year old son. I count down the days until we leave. I cry when they do that whole opening the park thing with Mickey and cast coming in on the train at the Magic Kingdom (That's right...I said I CRY). When the gates open I literally skip down Main Street. I giggle like I'm 5 years old and seeing it all for the first time. I dream of moving into that castle. I head straight for Tomorrow Land (although Space Mountain was a bit shaky last time which made it scary for completely different reasons that it used to). I ride Dumbo like a big dumb butt. I hit the Haunted Mansion a hundred times and Splash Mountain and Thunder Mountain Railroad just about as much. I don't care if it's raining, snowing, or if there is a Category 5 hurricane. If the park is open, I'm all over it. I hit everything I like as if it were a tactical strike. 2 years ago we took my son and one of his cousins. That was....an experience. Not counting the 10 hour car ride there with a little girl that talked almost the entire time and the relentless "Are we there yet?" from the backseat, it wasn't as bad as I thought it could have been. I don't allow my kid to whine...so he doesn't, but other people's children...what do you do? They actually asked if they could go swimming. It was complete blasphemy. Who the hell goes to Disney and actually gets into a freakin pool? Not even when I was a child did I ever once ask to swim while at Disney. That's just madness! But, we swam right after we checked in. It made me sick, but we did it for the children. I forced them to ride every ride once. You can't imagine the whining and moaning and even tears. People must have thought that I was a horrible mother. I don't care. Once the ride was over, they wanted to get back on. Made me want to stab myself repeatedly. Honestly, causing a huge scene just to want to get off and go get back in line over and over and over. At any rate, this year we are taking the 8 year old and the 1 year old. This has the potential to be a complete nightmare. But, I'm trying to stay optimistic. Again we are driving...because we are gluttons for punishment...and airline tickets...ugh! Can't wait to update you on the whole experience.

So...having reconnected with a couple of old friends from high school...I do what I always do...I scared at least one of them off. I don't know if it's that I'm pushy or nosey or have a wicked evil sense of humor that scares the hell out of people, but it usually takes only a short time before they are running screaming away from me. It's only been like a day and a half and I'm fairly certain that I'll never hear from this one again. And I was actually trying to be nice and helpful. But, crazy over the top, I suppose. So much for reconnecting. Maybe this is why I avoid people. It's one thing for people to suspect that your weird, but it's an entirely other thing to confirm that for them...and so quickly. Geez! To those of you that aren't scared away so easily...we're going to have a lot of fun!

Reconnecting

Okay...after years, decades perhaps, of avoiding people I used to know, I'm finally reconnecting. Is this a good thing? Is this dangerous? Will it dredge up old hurts? Seriously, how do people do this every day? Do I want people to remember me the way I was or get to know who I am now? Of course, when they knew me I was a naive teenager. I thought everything was life or death back then. It's kind of embarrassing to remember some of those times. Some things I don't mind remembering. Some things I supposed I've blocked out and will never remember again...and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Suffice it to say that I've spent 2 decades trying to forget some pretty painful memories and bam!!! Talk to one or two people and it all comes flooding back. I didn't sleep at all the first night with all that crap swimming through my head. It was like reliving it all over again.
Thankfully, I've learned to squash that crap much more quickly than I did when I was younger. I can no longer allow myself to stray into that deep dark abyss that I lived in for so long. I wouldn't survive it this time around.