Archive for May, 2009

In Need of Escape

Why is it that our mothers can so easily make us feel like shit?  I swear, my mom is the best at it.  With just one sentence, she can reduce me to a child just like that.

Every few months or so, I get pretty down on myself.  I’m not where I want to be in my life, by far.  I am not where I thought I’d be at (almost) thirty.  I once had a home, a complete family, a nice car, a good job, plenty of money.  I was out away from home by 17.  I hate having to depend on my parents.  I hate not having all the things that I want for myself and my kids.  I HATE it.  It’s pretty obvious they hate it, too, as they take just about any opportunity they see to help me see:  a) what bad children I have, b) what a horrible mother I am to have such bad children, or c) I should really be grateful that they allow us to stay here.   

In the last week or two, I have been plenty down on myself.  There are many different reasons, but this is the heart of it.  It’s summer, I’m taking classes, but I  have no job because (HELLO!) there is no one I can rely on to watch my kids.  Per the parents, the boys aren’t allowed to be left home alone (even though they’re old enough).  Therefore, I have no money.  Therefore, we have limited options on things to do over the summer.  We can go to the park, we can go out and play, and yes, those are good things.  We will probably go to the movies a couple of times and maybe the skating rink.  All I want to do is get out, get away from them.  They are always here, they never go anywhere.  My mom is a teacher, so she is now home all. the. fucking. time., and my step-dad got laid off a few weeks ago, so now he is, too. 

This means that they are here every time the boys do something that is considered “wrong” or “bad.”  Just now, Big J got bitched at for “not having an answer…” because he had left a sheet in the laundry room and forgotten to take it upstairs.  “Why was it still in there?” my mother asked.  “Uhhhhhh.”  Yes, it’s annoying that he always says “uh” to most questions.  Then she says, “You don’t have an answer to anything, do you?  I am amazed that you get away with that.”  Then stalked off, stomping her feet like a two-year-old.

This kind of shit makes my blood boil.  Does her comment mean that I should stand over him (or under him, as he is taller than I am), yelling until he gives her an answer that she’s happy with?  Or maybe I should smack him a few times, you know, keep him in line?  Jesus Christ, he forgot about the goddamned sheet being in there!  I feel as if the only way that they’d be happy is if I followed right behind both of the boys and anticipated their every move, being right there if they were going to do something bone-headed.  Or maybe if I dealt out some old testament type punishments or something.  Even then, they’d probably bitch.

Listen, I know I’m not the best mother in the world, BUT I am a damn good one.  My kids aren’t perfect.  They are assholes sometimes, but they know I love them, and they aren’t afraid of me the way I was always afraid of my mother.  I’m doing the best I can, goddammit, and this type of shit makes me feel like less and less of a person.  I wish I had never moved here, with them.  I worry about how these past two years (and however long we’re here for) will change my boys.  I wonder how things would have been different if I had stayed in Georgia or moved here, but had the balls to do everything on my own. 

So here I am, on a Saturday afternoon, ranting and raving because of one little thing my mother said.  I want to just grab the boys and run out the door, but there’s nowhere to go.  I hate this.  I hate this.  I hate this.

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Summertime

I’m taking two classes in this first summer session, and both are requirements for my degree (as are all the remaining classes I will take in the next year and a half or so).  They are each three and a half hours long, twice a week.  One is in the morning and one is at night.  This makes for some long days. 

The morning class is an introduction to linguistics, which is something I doubt I will ever use.  So far, we’ve learned the symbols for sounds and fun, interesting stuff like that (yawn).  I can see how this would be useful knowledge for speech pathologists – knowing how the mouth forms sounds, but to be honest, it is three hours of boredom for me.  All of our tests are going to be open book, so I don’t forsee any problems getting good grades.  There hasn’t been any real homework, so I haven’t had to do anything outside of the actual class.  Three hours is a long time to sit still and listen to a lecture…

The evening class is a little better, though it’s more work.  It’s called Oral Interpretation, which is basically reading out loud in front of the class, all the while making it interesting.  It’s actually a drama class, but is a requirement for English teachers.  This one will be much more useful, as it will be my job to make literature inticing for teenagers.  If I’m not excited about what I’m teaching, how can I excite them?  So far, we’ve done two readings.  Luckily, as I have gotten older, I am not as shy as I once was, and it doesn’t bother me to get up in front of the class.  The only problem I’ve had with this class so far is in choosing what to read.  The first one could be whatever we wanted, and I used a blog about Texans.  For the second, I read a bit of Chuck Palahniuk’s book Stranger Than Fiction, and the next one will be an excerpt from The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.  Honestly, it took me about two hours to find just the right selection, because it can only be three minutes long. 

Anyhow, I enjoy this class much more, and it makes me wish I had time to do theater.  I was always in school plays from the time I was in fourth grade.  I always had a lot of fun with it, whether I was in a bit part or the lead, and I went a few times to competition and did well.  It’s something I missed when I got to high school.  My mother made me sign up for band, even though I didn’t want to.  She told me to try it one year, and if I didn’t like it I could quit.  I hated it.  The only time it was fun was during actual band class, when I could goof off with the other drummers in the back.  I was the only girl, and we had a lot of fun being jackasses.

At our high school, the two big things were football and band.  Of course, it being Texas and all, football was king, but our band program is the best in the state.  The problem with this is that if you played football or were in band, you didn’t have time for any other activities.  We had practice during school and after school, then games, games, and more games.  There was no time for me to be in plays, to go to rehearsals, even though I was in a drama class (with a teacher who would later become one of my best pals).  Then I got pregnant with Big J, and I didn’t have time for ANYTHING but him and school.

Oh well, maybe once my kids are grown I’ll have time to do something like that again.  Right now, the kids are out of school and seem to be trying to break a record for most jerky behavior towards one another.  When the weather is good, they’ve been outside most of the day, which is nice.  My respite is at night when they’re in bed, and I can sneak away for a while.  When I don’t have to worry about them fighting, my parents being assholes, when I can just be me.  Is it bed time yet?

asupermom

Totally Music Tuesday

This song is being played over and over and over on the radio, and it’s such a silly song, I thought I’d share.  It’s also perfect for this blog, as it is about not trusting a ho (or douchebags).  Happy Tuesday, y’all,  I’m in class.  Fuckin’ school.

Warning: Mushy Stuff Ahead

In the last few months, I have had this amazing sense of being lucky.  That’s the best way to describe it. 

I know that I’ve told you about my Fireman and how wonderful he is, but it seems that all of the stories and gushing(?) pale in comparison to how amazing he REALLY is.  I tell him all the time, and his reply is always the same.  “I’m just a schmuck,” he says. 

We hadn’t seen each other yesterday, since he worked his second job all day and then had his son in the afternoon/evening.  I had class at 6, and figured that by the time I got out at 9:15, he’d be passed out after riding the ambulance all night and then doing manual labor all day.  I called him on my way to class, and told him I missed him.  (I always do when we’ve gone without seeing each other for a day, especially if I know I won’t see him for another one).  We talked about our days, and when I got to campus, he told me to call him on my break.

Class is so long, but the first half was spent doing our interpretations, so at least it wasn’t boring.  We get a 10 minute break in the middle of class, so first I called to tell the boys goodnight.  Happily, they were getting along and I got to talk to them for a few minutes without threatening punishment to anyone.  Then, I called my Fireman back.  He was taking his son to the ex’s house, and said if he was still awake when I got out of class, I should come over “for a smooch.”  (He lives in between campus and my house).  We laughed a lot before I had to go back inside.

The rest of the class seemed to fly by, and we even got out about 15 minutes early.  It’s down in the basement of one of the buildings, so as soon as I got a signal, I called the Fireman.  He was still awake, so I told him I’d stop by.  We were talking and laughing, and just when I get to my car, I see a truck that looks like his.  That’s when I noticed him standing there.  I was so surprised and happy that I jumped up in his arms. 

THIS is what makes him so special.  He was tired, but he knew I missed him, so he surprised me.  He had sat out in his truck for at least thirty minutes, waiting for me to get out of class, because he knew it would make me smile.  I would have been happy just to see him at the house, but this gesture touched me more than I think he’ll ever know, and it’s just one of many.

We ended up sitting out on the new patio furniture, drinking wine and having deep conversations about our pasts and our future.  I love those talks, and we have them often.  We saw some bats and heard some beetles, and swatted lots of mosquitoes, but it was a great night.  We made each other a pinky swear, and I studied his face in the dim light.  This is a night I will always remember, I’m sure of that.

I don’t even know what else to say except that Ginger is a lucky girl.

Larry the Lurker, Is That You?!

Lurker – a person who reads discussions on a message board, newsgroup, chatroom, file sharing, or other interactive system, but rarely or never participates actively. (Wikipedia)

We all have lurkers, and usually we (or at least I) don’t think much about it.  I have a regular number of readers, but a much smaller number of commenters.  I had to explain the definition of a lurker to my Fireman.  He had no clue what I was talking about when I told him I’d discovered two of my lurkers, or why I was excited about it.

Here’s what went down.  When my girlfriend started her own blog, I pimped it here.  One of the people who commented on my girl’s blog and said she reads my page.  I’d never seen the commenter’s name or page, nor had she ever commented.  So I was all “ooh, ooh!  I have a reader I didn’t know about!” and went over to check out Breigh’s page here, then read a few pages back.  It was a nice surprise.  🙂

Then, two days later I got a comment from Bitchy McBitcherson telling me she’d given me an award on her page.  What?  What?  WHAT?!?!  I got an award from someone I had never gotten a comment from before?  How freaky/cool is that?  I’d seen Bitchy around on other blogs (it’s kind of incestuous, isn’t it?), and went and started reading after I got the comment.  The award?  It’s called the Bella award and looks like this:

1bella_award_

The rules are as follows:

1) Accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award, and his or her blog link.
2) Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you’ve newly discovered. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

I don’t have 15 blogs that I’ve newly discovered.  I haven’t had time to read all of the ones that have been suggested by my “regular” blog buds, and probably won’t until the summer semester’s over.  I guess I will choose a few that I haven’t been reading long, though.

1.  Ms. Moon at Bless Our Hearts.  This lady is an amazing writer, no matter what she’s writing about.  Sometimes she writes funny posts, sometimes tear-jerkers, but always beautifully written from the heart.  There have been many times when I’ve told someone about a post of hers and how wonderful it was.  You should at least check her out!

2.  Absolute Zero – This is my favorite guy, and he’s new to the blog world.  I love him so!

3.  HBIC at My Daily Bitch –  She’s my favorite (American) bitch!  I’m working on getting her to use proper spelling and punctuation, and she can use lots of internet support right now.

4.  Ms. Bliss at Learning to Breathe –  Doesn’t post near enough!  Ms. Bliss just started this blog, and I’m hoping to hear more from her soon.

That’s all I’ve got for now.  I’m hoping to find some new blogs to read later in the summer, broaden my horizons, if you will.

This wasn’t the reason for my post, though.  I’m getting all off track!  The whole point was lurking.  I admit it, I’m guilty of lurking.  I have my “regular” blogs that I read and comment on every time I read blogs, which is usually daily.  These are also people that I sort of “know” outside of the blogging community.  That is, I know their real names, have them on my Facebook, and/or IM with them sometimes.  I also have a couple of blogs on my blogroll that I only check out every once in a while, like Badass Geek and Twisted Family Antics.  I enjoy them every time, but I don’t comment very often.  I do, however, usually make a comment when I discover a new blog I enjoy, even if I only read it that once.  I figure people like to know when someone enjoys their writing, right?

Every once in a while, I ask for lurkers to come forward and identify themselves, and I’m gonna do it again now.  Two of you have, and look how happy you made me!  (Yes, I totally just took that picture right now as I was writing this.)

Photo-0009Du

How do y’all feel about lurkers?  Do you get excited when a new reader pops up and tells you they like you?  Is it just me?

Fathers vs Dads

Boy, today was a long day.  My boys are going to camp this summer for the first time ever.  There’s a program called Operation Purple that offers free camps for children of military families, with special consideration for those with a parent who is deployed, and both boys were accepted into separate camps.  I’m a little scared about them being all alone away from ME for a week each, but looking forward to not having to pull them off of each other to keep them from fighting for at least two weeks of the summer.  Because there is a focus on athletics with these camps, they had to have a physical to make sure they’re healthy enough.  Soooo that meant a drive to Rochester, which is about an hour drive.  Long story, but their doctor is located there instead of in our town.

It isn’t a bad drive, Rochester’s a nice town, and there are some “regular” places we like to go when we are there.  There’s a diner almost across the street from the clinic, and the boys always ask to go.  So we ate lunch there, cracking each other up the whole time.  I swear, my youngest son has great comedic timing, and my oldest son can just be goofy as all get out.  There’s also a little boutique-type shop called “Flirt” that I like to look around in (the boys stayed in the car and listened to Disturbed.  I found a couple of little things, including something for My Fireman (shhhhhhhhhh, it’s a secert) and some tissues with nuns on them that say “bless you.”  D’OH, I should’ve gotten some for ETW! 

Little J was tired by the time we got back in the car to go home.  He’d spent the night with one of his friends, and hadn’t gone to bed at his normal time.  I was hoping he’d nap in the car, but he only fell asleep for about five minutes, so by the time we got home he was super cranky.  I had to go to the post office, so I suggested maybe they write a letter to send their dad.  They haven’t sent him anything since he’s been overseas, and I have a huge envelope full of pictures for him, but I’ve been waiting to send them till they had something from THEM to add.  Here was the conversation we had:

Me:  Why don’t you write Dad a letter so I can mail those pictures to him when I go?

Him:  I don’t have anything to say.

Me:  You can’t think of ANYTHING to say to your dad???

Him:  No.

Me:  Little J, you know you’re dad is overseas and I think he’d appreciate a letter from you.

Him:  But I just sent him an email!

Me:  It’s different!  You haven’t seen him in a long time, and it’d be nice if you’d do this.

Him:  (under his breath) Yeah, I haven’t seen him in a long time because of you.

Me:  I told you to never say that to me again, go to your room right now!

END SCENE

So…he was in his room for a little while, and in the meantime I went to the post office to mail what I had to mail, minus the envelope for Douche. 

Part of me wants to MAKE them write a letter, part of me thinks that I shouldn’t.  Douche hasn’t been a “dad” to them since he left two years ago, and I get angry just thinking about how he feels entitled to their attention.  Buuut, I also know that he must be having a rough time over there, so of course, I feel like I should do something.  Goddammit!  I know that I don’t owe him anything, so why am I feeling guilty?!?!

When I was out and about today, I saw something that said, “anyone can be a father, but it takes a special man to be a dad.”  I’ve heard it before, and always knew it was true, if a little trite.  When I laid down to take a little nap after getting home, I couldn’t get this phrase out of my head.  It seems so unfair that my boys don’t have a dad.  They had a dad for 11 and 7 years, respectively, and then they just didn’t.  I don’t often dwell on this, because to be honest, I did most of the heavy lifting with the kids, even when I was married.  However, he was there to do sports with them and rough-house, and do boy things with. 

I know that they’ll be able to look up to my Fireman as a role model, and that makes me feel good (and lucky).  Last night, I took Big J to the station where FM was working on his new truck.  Big J said he wanted to work on the truck, too, but we had to leave.  At that moment, I had  visions of my boys having someone to teach them all the things a man should know, and I couldn’t think of a better person.  He’s the best dad I’ve ever known, including my own, which is saying a lot.

Words Left Unspoken

Sometime last week, Karen at Smiling Through It All did a post that was “Ten Things I Wish I Could Say to Certain People.”  I thought to myself, “self, you should do that, too.”  How many times have I lain in bed at night, just thinking of all the things I should say to people?  Millions.  Usually, these sleepless nights are spent concocting  just the right words that would make the other person cringe and/or finally GET IT.  I’ll admit that these kinds of nights haven’t happened in quite some time (since about the beginning of the year), but the night after I read Karen’s post, I had all kinds of things I needed to say, mostly to Douche. 

You see, in the past two years since Douche and I split, we have barely spoken.  I can literally count on one hand the times we’ve had an actual conversation of any importance.  I think the last time we spoke for more than five minutes was last August, when he was bringing the boys back from their time with him. 

However, there are a few other things I should really say to other people, but I know I never will.  For the most part, I don’t leave things unsaid.  The people I care about know I care about them.  The rest, I don’t really feel the need to explain myself to or worry about what they think. (Disclaimer – none of these are directed at anyone who reads this blog).   So…here goes.  My ten things.

1.  Your son is a douchebag, and you enable his behavior.  Just because he is in the military does not mean he is a good person.  By the way, I hope you enjoy your new granddaughters as much as you used to enjoy your grandsons, bitch.

2.  Do you ever wonder why your children never come and visit you?  It’s because from the moment they walk in the door, you seem to take pleasure in pointing out all of the things they are doing/have done wrong since the last time you saw them.  Lay off them!

3.  I thought about messaging you the other day, to make sure you’re okay.  Then I realized that it’s not my job anymore, and contacting you would be a mistake.  I still worry about you a lot, though, and wish you’d get the help you need.

4.  You need to leave him.  You and your children would be much happier.  I know you won’t, though, and that makes me sad.

5.  The reason I don’t speak to you anymore is because you are bat shit crazy.  We are not friends.  The constant attention-seeking between you and your husband is ridiculous.  Get a divorce, get over it, quit trying to one-up each other in the “look what I’m doing now” game.   It’s pathetic.

6.  Your fake-ass-ness drives me up the wall.  If you can’t be yourself, there’s something wrong with you.

7.  You are nasty.  A ho is a ho, no matter how you package it.

8.    Miss Thang, you need a reality check.  You had a good thing and you threw it all away, but you still thinks he owes you???  Get over yourself!

9.  Thank you for giving me confidence.

10.  You were right.

Ok, so it was kind of hard to think of 10 things.  As I stated before, I usually say things that need to be said.  I actually brought this post up to the Fireman the other night.  I told him about all of the things I wish I could say to Douche, and C*nt.  I never got a chance to confront them…not really.  I realize that nothing I could have said would have made a difference, and I’m actually kind of glad that I was spared the whole “Ginger goes crazy in front of people.”  Oh, Ginger went crazy, all right, but mostly it was in private, and C*nt never witnessed any of it.  Yeah, I’m a classy broad. 

FM had a similar situation that ended his long-term relationship with the mother of his son.  He, however, had a chance to say all the things he’d been feeling and thinking to his ex.  He told me that honestly, it didn’t make him feel better, but worse.  I will never know in my case, but I guess this is the next closest thing.  It’s my place to purge everything, good and bad.

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