Archive for April, 2009

Lucky Girl

The semester’s almost done.  The semester’s almost done.  The semester’s almost done.  Can I get an amen-ah?

I went to my last class today, and have three finals next week on Monday and Tuesday.  I was almost giddy as I turned in my final paper on The Jungle, which I believe was started back at the beginning of March.  It was revised and revised and revised, so I sure do hope I make a good grade on it.  That class was friggin’ hard, yo.  My group will be turning in our huge group project on Sunday, and then I’ll be done with THAT class, which just leaves the finals to get through.  Deep breaths.

Luckily, I’ve had plenty of chances to blow off steam and relax.  I got to go and visit my nephew again today, and I’ve been wined and dined by my Fireman a lot.  Last week, he took me out to a jazz club/restaurant where they had GULF SHRIMP(!!!!), which is maybe my most favorite food in the world.  I have been craving it for a while now, and if you have ever had gulf shrimp, you know that it is different from the shrimp that comes from other places.  I hadn’t seen it on a menu up here before.  It was delicious, and so was the wine and other food we had.  Sheesh, if I was smart, I probably would have taken a picture of it to show you.  Oh well, I’m not and I didn’t.  We ate and drank ourselves silly and then went to get ice cream. 

The next night, he was coming over for dinner and I had planned to cook spaghetti with meat sauce, which is kind of a specialty of mine.  How-e-ver, as I was throwing the diced tomatoes into the pot, I didn’t realize I had grabbed the kind that had chilis in them.  I didn’t notice anything wrong until everything was added into the pot and the spaghetti didn’t smell like spaghetti, it smelled like chili.  It tasted good, it was just chili instead.  Soooo, when my FM showed up, I was flustered and had just dumped a jar of sauce into a pan to warm up.  He brought me a pink rose, a bottle of wine, and some yummy bread.  I’m tellin’ ya, that boy’s got skills.  We ate the chili and spaghetti with jar sauce, bread, and salad.  It was pretty good, and the kids liked having him there at dinner time.  

The next night, he said he’d plan something for us and not to eat a big dinner.  When he got here, he had two bags with him.  I didn’t see what was in them as he put them into the refrigerator, though.  We played Rock Band with the kids for a little while before they had to go to bed, which was amusing since FM had never played before.  We had all kinds of fun rockin’ out.  They really like him a lot.  Once they were in bed, he told me to get two big plates, a knife, some napkins, and champagne glasses.  We had a picnic on the floor with salami, different cheeses, blackberries, strawberries, watermelon, french bread, focaccia, and champagne.  It was so delicious and romantic.

This all happened in one week, guys.  Then on Sunday, I had a bit of a rough day.  Little J had a meltdown of the sort that he seems to have every few months.  He hasn’t had one since Christmas Day, when he told me that the reason his dad didn’t come see him or send him presents for Christmas was because he gave me all his money.  Yeah.  That.  This time, he told me that his dad was in Afghanistan because of me and that his dad would live with him if it wasn’t for me.  I was completely upset, and after a talk with my FM and a little time to calm down, explained to my boy that his father had chosen to leave and that he was in Afghanistan because it was his job.  Things were better after that, but I was drained the whole day and felt beaten up.  Poor Little J was emotional all day, too, but didn’t have any more outbursts like that.  My FM called and told me he wasn’t going to have his son all night that night and that he was taking me out somewhere.  So, once the boys were in bed, he picked me up and we went to one of the places we’ve been to before (that of the fruit-flavored smoke-out) and had a sandwich and a drink.  During the middle of our 9:30 pm dinner, my step-dad texted me because Big J had gotten up to go to the bathroom.  GRRRRR.  If you don’t want to babysit, don’t babysit…if you agree to babysit, then leave me alone unless it’s an emergency, for fuck’s sake!  Where was I?  Oh yes, we were eating.  It was beautiful weather out that night – warm with a slight breeze, so we went for a walk down by the river.  It was nice and relaxing, and we actually had a camera and took pictures!

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He was doing his “serious” face.  It cracks me up every damn time.

 

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My hair may be frizzy, but he loves me anyway.

So, even though school has been kicking my ass, my kid thinks I’m the reason his dad went (and stays) away, and my step-dad has been super asshole-y lately, I got a good thing going.  I’ll drink to that.

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Squishy Baby Pictures!

I was able to go visit my new nephew on Friday afternoon, and wanted to share the pictures.  The poor little guy was a little jaundiced, so spent a little more time in the hospital last week under lights.  It looked like he was trying to get a baby tan!  E and my BIL kept calling him their little “fly guy.” 

Little J decided that he’d like to hold his cousin, and I was so proud of how careful and sweet he was with the baby.  He was very still and kept looking down at him.  When I was holding the baby, Little J kept touching his head softly and kissing him gently.  Big time Mommy pride. 

Big J is still a little afraid that he will do something wrong, so he hasn’t held the baby yet.  I really wanted to get some pictures of him with his new cousin, but I guess there’s plenty of time!  The Fireman and I are going to go visit tomorrow for a bit after I get done with class.  Next week is finals week and then I’ll have a whole week off before starting my two summer classes.  Woohoo.  I’m still wondering how I’m going to have enough money to pay for said summer classes, but I guess I’ll figure something out! 

I added these pics in before writing, and I can’t figure out how to seperate them, so I apologize for the poor formatting!  Hopefully I’ll be able to write a longer post in the next few days.  Happy Monday!

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Christ on a Cracker

I wasn’t intending to post twice today, but I am so angry right now, I wish I had someone to punch.  Hard.  Then maybe a nutsack to kick. 

Since Douche has been in Afghanistan, he has tried to contact the boys twice.  The first time, I didn’t hear the phone and felt horrible.  I texted his wife and told her to tell him how sorry I was.  He has called her and his other children several times in between, and tried calling again this morning when I was sleeping.  When I go to bed, I either turn my phone off or put it on vibrate, so I didn’t hear it again.  I also had a missed call from his mother.  I told the boys when I woke up that their dad had tried to call again, and that I still had the message if they wanted to listen to it.  They didn’t.  I suggested that they send him an email and call their grandmother.  They have not been interested in doing either, so I will force them later.  I was a little concerned about it this morning, since I know they want to talk to him, but I got busy doing school work and stopped worrying.  Until I got a message from little wifey. 

It said, “Douche was trying to get a hold of you this morning to talk to the boys – he’s upset.”  I told her I knew, and I was sorry, but I was sleeping after spending the last two days in the hospital with my sister.  I asked if he had our home phone number.  She replied, “I don’t know – can you give it to me just in case?  He said the only reason he was trying to call your cell is because he knew the boys would be where you are.”  I told her again that I was sorry, and that normally that would be true, but maybe he should try the house phone next time if he can’t get us on the cell (which I feel is reasonable), and had been hoping he would get a chance to try to call again this afternoon.  She replied, “Yes, well he has no set time he can call, just whenever the phone is free and they are not out on a mission.”  Okaaaay.  I know that.  I also know that he called at least two other people after he tried my phone, but didn’t try to call again.  So I told her that I understood that, but he should also understand that I can’t read minds or know when he is going to be able to call, either.  This was her reply, “Whatever, I’m not looking for an argument (BULLSHIT), all I know is how upset he was and I think he put a little too much faith that you of all people would know to be expecting a call at any time and to answer.”  As if *I* am the untrustworthy person in the equation.  I said that it wasn’t as if I didn’t answer because I knew it was him.  I was alseep because I have been at the hospital for two days straight.  I’ll be damned if I didn’t get another message, “Well you can tell him that next time he tries to call – if he can even get through.  See, this wasn’t the first time.  Oh well, maybe now with the home number we can nip it in the bud.”

The fucking nerve of this bitch, I tell ya.  I understand him being upset about not reaching the boys.  HOWEVER, I don’t understand where she gets off being all high and mighty.  I missed the call, it wasn’t on purpose.  I am not trying to keep him from contacting his children, for Christ’s sake!  For two years now, I have never impeded contact between him and the children, or even between her and the kids.  I would never do that.  Yet, that is how she is spinning it, and I hate it.  I am so fucking angry right now, but I know no amount of explanation to her, or his mother, or anyone will make a damn bit of difference. 

I am going to email him here in a minute, and then will make sure that the boys do, too.  What more can I do to make this better?  I have no idea.  Fucking Douchebag.

Do You Know What Today Is?

It’s my blog-a-versary!  Does anyone else remember that song?  I think it was by Usher maybe?  Surely someone does.  Anyhoo, today is mine.  It’s been a whole year since I started spilling my guts out across the internet.  I’m so glad I started this little space, all thanks to Honeywine.  It’s helped me to sort, analyze, and realize my feelings in a way that just sitting and thinking doesn’t.  It’s also helped me to connect with people I otherwise wouldn’t have ever known.  I can’t imagine not checking in with Penelope every other day or so, not knowing about Aunt Becky’s precious little Amelia, not being able to shoot the shit with ETW or Ron.  I wouldn’t be able to commiserate about dating foibles with KC, or single motherhood with Dutchy, or laugh my ass off at Lola’s sassiness.  I wouldn’t know Karen, who is brilliant and brilliantly funny, or Teeni, who may possibly be the sweetest blogger out there, or Apathetic Bliss, who’s a fabulous single mama.  Most recently, I am thankful for finding Ms. Moon.  Her words envelop me with emotions, and never fail to move me, no matter what the topic.  Ok, ok, enough fawning over y’all!  I do love ya, though, and am happy to know you, no matter what.

On a non-blog-a-versary note, my nephew was born yesterday!  E went into the hospital on Thursday night, to prep for induction on Friday morning.  She was having some mild contractions, but nothing too strong Thursday night, and was giving pitocin early the next morning.  The poor girl was in labor until 2:40 Saturday afternoon.  Her husband, my mom, her in-laws, and I were there throughout most of it.  We stood watch over our precious E and our even more precious baby.  When her water broke on Friday afternoon, we thought it wouldn’t be much longer before we’d meet her son, but that boy was stubborn!  It seemed he was face up, and each time the nurses would lower the pitocin, the contractions would slow and lose their oomph.  Still, we were optimistic that it would only be a matter of hours, and we all stayed the night except for E’s FIL.  Her MIL and I did our best to sleep in the waiting room, but the couches were hard as a rock and there were people carrying on like it was the fourth of July or something. 

Nothing had changed by 7 am, so my mother and I came home to get a shower and a little bit of rest.  I hugged my boys quickly and promptly passed the fuck out.  I was awoken by my step-father at about 11, and he told me that my mom had called (she couldn’t sleep and had gone back to the hospital) and that the doctor said if she still hadn’t dialated much by noon, they were going to prep for a C-section.  I jumped up, threw on some clothes and brushed my hair, and made my way back to the hospital.  I let our father, other sister, my pals, and my Fireman know what was going on.  Sidenote- this is how great my Fireman is…he was in the middle of a 24 hour shift on the busiest ambulance in town.  When he got a call that brought him to the hospital my sister was at, he went up to check on her and talk to my mother.  I wasn’t even there, and he hadn’t told me he was going.  He really is that kind. 

E had opted for an epidural at about 2 am, so wasn’t in tremendous pain, but she was completely exhausted.  She’d been laboring for so long, and hadn’t been able to eat anything more than jello and popsicles (which is more than they’d let me have with my babies).  It seemed as though a C-section was imminent.  A new nurse had just come on duty and offered her patented technique for making the baby come out quick.  She knew E didn’t want to have surgery unless it was necessary, so she told E to lay flat on her back, with a blanket rolled up underneath her lower back.  It worked two-fold.  Not only did it make her cervix dialate (she was at 10 when they checked her 30 minutes later), it also made the baby roll over to face down.  When the nurse said that she was fully dialated, E’s face was awash in relief.  She knew the finish line was in sight! 

She pushed for about an hour and a half before her little guy came into the world, crying with the strength of a lion.  E’s FIL and I were right outside the door, listening to everything.  She had told us that we could be in the room, but it was a little crowded, so we opted to wait outside.  As soon as we heard the cry, we both started weeping with joy.  I was there with my older sister when she had her first baby, and now I was there when my younger sister had hers.  I saw the in-laws become grandparents for the first time.  The sheer joy on everyone’s face was amazing, and the baby was perfect.  He weighed 8 lbs., 12 oz., and was 20 and 3/4 inches long, and of course, beautiful.  I took tons of pictures, but most of them were taken on my BIL’s camera, so I don’t have many on my computer yet.  However, I have a few to share.

E worked hard, and I am very proud of her and my BIL, and my newest nephew!

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Not My Responsibility, HO

Let’s see, I’ve been divorced now for almost a year and a half.  In that time, there have been several instances where Douche has pushed me to the extremes of anger.  Now, it seems he is trying to do it even from Afghanistan.  THAT is how douche-y he is, except this time, he dragged his wife into it.

A couple of weeks ago, a letter came in the mail (at our house) addressed to Douche.  It looked important, so I texted the wife and let her know I was mailing it to her.  On Monday afternoon, she sent me a message that it was from a cell phone company, and that it was a debt incurred around the time of our divorce (October/November 2007).  She then asked if I would mind splitting the cost of the bill, since it was for phone service that both of us used.

Here’s the story of this bill – we had cell phone service when we were married, but it was in his name only.  When I moved up here (we weren’t completely divorced yet), I was still paying his bills and my bills out of our joint account.  I made sure everything was paid on time, and for a few months, that was fine.  However, in October, he cleared the account and closed it, right after I had sent out checks and paid bills online.  SO…I freaked.  Checks bounced left and right, and he seemed completely unconcerned.  He replaced some of the money, but the damage was done.  The next month, he started sending child support, and I told him he had to take care of his own bills.  This included the cell phone bill.  He told me that he would keep up the phone service because there was a contract, and if he defaulted it would cost $200 per phone.  I surmise that he just never paid the bill, got added onto his ho’s service plan, and defaulted on the contract…which means the bill is probably pretty high.

I didn’t respond right away because I was busy making dinner.  About an hour later, I got another text that said, “assuming you got my earlier text????”  Grrrr.  Don’t get all bitchy with me, ho!  I told her that yes, I got her message, but that Douche had assured me that said bill had been taken care of a year and a half ago.  I figured he was lying, but since the bill was in his name only, I put it out of my mind.  She responded with, “funny, he said he didn’t know anything about it when I asked him the other day.”  Well, of course he did!  Newsflash – HE LIES!

I took a deep breath and thought carefully about how to respond.  I told her that I was sorry she was having to deal with this, but that I was told it was taken care of and is not my responsibility.  She said that she didn’t like being in the middle of this “he said, she said” stuff.  I told her that I would email him directly about it, but then she shot that down because, “he doesn’t need to worry about bills and money when he’s in danger.  There are more important things he needs to focus on.”  Well…didn’t you just tell me that you’d asked him about it?  Wouldn’t that count?  Anyhow, she sent a few more texts asking me not to concern him with it, which I ignored.  I won’t email him about it, because it doesn’t matter to me one way or another.   The bill is not in my name whatsoever, so they have no legal recourse.  However, she does send my alimony check, so I may not get that if she decides I owe them something. Do I even have to mention that he hasn’t contacted his boys since he’s been gone?  He tried calling once, but I didn’t hear the phone.  Since then, nothing.  Not an email, not a letter.  Nothing.  Yet, apparently he calls his wife and daughters regularly.

Isn’t divorce fun?

There’s A First Time For Everything

Wow.  It’s already April???  You mean Easter was yesterday?  Really?  REALLY?  There are only a few weeks left in the semester for me, and everything seems to be barreling forward at warp speed (or maybe ludicrous speed)!  I spent most of the weekend working on a historical literary interpretation of The Jungle, (I can’t figure out how to underline things here, dammit!) and doing my part of a ginormous group project for an online class.  Oh, and the regular work for my other online class as well.  Thank goodness my other classes are pretty much cake from here on in.  

I can’t believe I haven’t written about this yet, but your beloved Ginger tried something for the first time last Wednesday night.  I know, you can’t believe it…but it’s true!  There are even pictures to prove it!  My Fireman had told me he was planning to go out with some friends, so I figured I would get some homework done and go to bed early.  He was going to come to the house before heading out so we could see each other for a bit, and then he’d be on his way.  However, since he was missing me like crazy (and vice versa), he called to ask if I could come along to meet some of his friends.  Of course I said yes, duh.

He came and picked me up and we went to an oyster bar.  We were running a little late, but when we got there, only one of his friends was there yet.  He was a guy that had gone to rookie school with my Fireman, and was really cool.  I didn’t feel like I was just sitting there while they were talking, ya know?  We actually had things in common (gasp)!  We all had a drink while waiting for the other two folks to show up.  I tried oysters for the first time.  Can’t say what they taste like, since I just swallowed it whole.  Then we had a shot.  I don’t usually do shots, as I have a very low tolerance for certain types of alcohol.  Namely, red wine and straight liquor.  This shot wasn’t too bad, though, so I was just a teensy bit giggly-er than usual, not falling down drunk. 

Finally, the other to people showed up, both also firefighters, and both also tres cool.  The guy I had been excited to meet because he cracks me up with comments on my Fireman’s Facebook page.  (He also told my FM that I was a keeper…before even meeting me).  I knew we’d get along, mmmkay?  He also grew up on O’ahu, so we talked a little bit about Hawaii and how wonderful it is.  The last person in the group was one of the few female firefighters in our city, and according to my Fireman, has more dedication for her job than most of the men.  She was my kinda gal.  The kind of girl who can hang with the boys, but is still a GIRL.  Know what I mean? 

Once we were all there, out came the hookah.  This particular bar has them, so of course we needed one!  Since y’all don’t really knowme, you don’t know that I am not, nor have I ever been, any type of smoker.  I tried smoking a cigarette once when I was about 12, and never tried it again after the trauma that ensued.  I’ve never even tried smokin’ the reefer.  I didn’t want to look like a pussy, though (fucking peer pressure!!!), and after being assured that I wouldn’t hack up a lung, I said a little prayer and sucked up some pomegranate-flavored smoke.  Hmmm, not bad at all.  It didn’t burn my lungs, I didn’t cough.  Just a little smokey-smoke.  Of course, I wasn’t taking huge drags, either, but I feel like I held my own in the great hookah-smokefest of the night. 

We had tons of fun that night, and even invented a new game.  Every time someone took a drag, they had to give a movie quote as they breathed out.  I ruled at that game!  It was awesome to be around four other people who knew all the movies I knew.  Usually when I spout off a random movie quote, people just stare at me or ask what the hell I’m talking about.  No, these were kindred spirits!!! 

I promised you proof, so here it is.  It was just tobacco, people!  I wish I could show you the ones of everyone else, but I guess you’ll have to settle for this.  In yo’ face, beyotch!

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Fucking school.  I am so tired of it.  Soooo, let’s not talk about that, shall we?

Did I tell you that my mother told me she likes the Fireman?  She actually said the words, “I like him,” without me asking her.  What’s that you say?  It doesn’t sound like her?  You’re right, it doesn’t.  She has never told me she liked anyone I brought home, whether it was one of my friends or a boyfriend.  I think I blacked out for a few minutes after she said it.  She even asked me to invite him to dinner at the house the other night.  I know, I know, weird, right?  Good, but weird.  Either she’s trying to get rid of me or she really does like him…or maybe both, she can be pretty crafty, that one.  So that’s good.

Yesterday, I took the boys to one of the fire stations so they could get the tour and see the truck.  They got to eat pizza and see where the firefighters hang out.  They even got to sit in the driver’s seat of the big engine.  The Fireman put on his gear so they could see what it looked like (they goofed on his hood-thingie).  They thought it was pretty cool, and I was reminded again why he’s such a great guy.

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