Bloggling Twenty-Three, MIA Version

I have been MIA, for this I am sorry.  I don’t know that I have any really good reason for being missing, but I just haven’t come here.  Or to any of your blogs either, which I am even more sorry.

It started out simply enough, in that I was trying to make sure to spend time off of my phone and my computer when I was home with my husband and Mea.  I did a great job of staying off my computer, I had to dust it off, and update a million things before I could even sign on to start this post, I still feel like I am on my phone too much, but it is a work in process.

I really discovered that the majority of my  blogging time was done when I was at work.  Whether it was reading blogs, or writing my blog posts, I did much of it while I was at work.  Which does not really make for a very productive employee.  Regardless, I do miss this place, I do miss your places, and I miss my friends in my computer.

So I am going to try to find a happy balance between everything so that I can get caught up, and still stay in touch with all of you.

 

On to the bloggling…

  • We drove to Ohio to visit Mack and her boyfriend.  It was a great visit, and could have only been made better, if I could have spent a few more days with them.  It was one hell of a car ride, thirteen hours in the car is too much to do in one day.
  • My Mom is doing very well.  Her doctors are very impressed with her health, and she continues to amaze everyone.  Last round of labs, and CT scan came back great, and the tumor on her chest wall may actually be getting smaller.  Her hip is healed, she is off the walker, and only uses a cane when she remembers to use it.
  • Mea has been doing great in school with one exception.  She has a new friend that is causing some issues in the class room.  I had already had some concerns, as we have had a few phone problems, where this girl has called our house well after Mea has gone to bed, or even once at 11:50 at night on the weekend.
  • On more than a few of these phone call interactions I have had with this girl, I have told her not to call our house after 7:30, and I tell her that she needs to get her homework done and get to bed on time too.
  • I have also heard from Mea that she has been absent from school because her parents didn’t want to get up, or they overslept, or the parents didn’t feel good.
  • After much discussion, my husband and I decided to switch her to the school that is our actual school for our neighborhood.
  • There are a couple of reasons, first the school she is attending is considered an “at-risk” school.  Which means that the school has not done well in standardized testing, and the students are not learning at the same rate as the other schools.  I have not been concerned with Mea’s education.  We work with he at home, she likes to learn, and has been at the top of her class for both reading and math.
  • She was only going to this school because it was the only school that our old sitter could take/pick up from, so now that she is no longer watching Mea, it seems stupid to have her go to this school that I really don’t like anyway.
  • She will be attending a grade school where all of the kids in the school will end up in the same middle school.  I worried with her going to the old school that she would have fewer friends going into middle school, and although I know she can make friends, it is easier if you know more people when you get there.
  • Does make me wonder if she will do even better in a new learning environment.
  • We were lucky enough to find a new daycare provider, and we are all extremely excited about it.  Mea is going to go to daycare with her baby nephew, at her sister’s best friend’s house.  She is my youngest stepdaughter’s best friend, and she is wonderful.  Mea can’t wait.  Quite frankly, neither can I.
  • I really don’t like my job.  I am over-qualified for it, my manager is a bit of a spoiled brat, and can’t manage her way out of anything.  I have been able to get her to set me up with some job shadows so I can have an idea as to where I want to transfer to when my year with them is up.  July 8, cannot come soon enough.

I think that is it for now, I am going to really try to get back here.  I have missed it, and I have missed all of you.

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Bloggling Twenty-two

I am calling this in from my phone. Ignore typos and deliriousness. Also, no bullets points.

My husband and I planned with her mother to discuss the drinking problem with step-daughter number 2. We were supposed to do it all together, bit her mom couldn’t wait, and it blew up into a horrible texting thing vs. an in person serious thing. I have been so angry I haven’t been thinking straightly.

I may come back and revisit this again, but that is the very, very short version.

My Mom has a fracture in her hip. (Holly, Mom may not have mentioned this to L yet it is breaking (not funny) news.) She sees an ortho tomorrow. She is freaking out. There home would not be condusive to rehab. Way too many steps, she is panicking that she will have to go to a home for rehab. Please pray that this does not happen. I do not think any of us could deal with this at all.

I set my oldest step-daughter up with a guy that I work with and they really like each other. Like REALLY like each other. They ate on date number five this weekend. I am super thrilled. He is a nice guy and has his shit together.

Also speaking of my OSD, I went over to her house on Saturday afternoon while she filed a police report against her son’s father. While our grandson was with us Friday night, he called E1 33 times and sent her over 50 text messages. Calling her every name in the book and demanding to know where his son was. It was her weekend. WE asked for him, as it was boys sleepover night and we had baby L too. He has gotten wind of her dating this nice guy and wants to try to fuck it up. He is a douche bag. I just pray that he doesn’t scare this new guy away. He is a keeper.

Yesterday, I restricted and hid from view my husband’s ex-wife on FB. I don’t know what I was thinking adding her, because she irritates the hell out of me. Anytime I comment on something the girl’s have posted it seems like she has to try to “one-up” my comment. I know this is dumb, but I hate that loon boon so much that everything she does annoys the shit out of me.

I had a call from one of the companies that I had multiple interviews with while un-employed. They want me to come in for yet another interview. Although I am not super in love with my job, I just don’t think I can go back for a fifth interview with this company. It is ridiculous. If they wanted me they should have hired me in March when I first spoke with them.

This is it for now. My thumbs are getting tired and my battery is running low.


Last Straw

Things have been, in a few words, strained, difficult, awkward, hostile, between my middle step-daughter, and my husband and I, for a while now.  There have been more than a few things that have transpired that have caused distress in this relationship, but something that I found out yesterday may truly be the last straw for me.

Friday, was my oldest stepdaughter’s thirtieth birthday.  There was a big party, a party bus, much debauchery.  All in good fun.

I am working on setting up my oldest step-daughter with a guy that I work with.  This may come back to bite me in the ass at some point, and is probably a blog post of its own for another day, but needless to say, she and I were texting back and forth last night, about the possibility of this date, and about her birthday party.

She mentioned that they all had a good time, but that C was really drunk, really early, and made an ass out of herself and embarrassed the other two girls.  I asked if she drove to and from E’s house, and she said she didn’t know, but that she wouldn’t be surprised if she had, because she does it all the time.

Then she said that she does it all the time with her girls in the car.

C has a cousin that lives over by E, and C is frequently over at her cousin’s house drinking, while their kids play, and then she drives them home back to our side of town, as C and her children live near us.

The one time Mea spent the night with C and her girls, they went over to her cousin’s house.

I am so pissed I could just scream.

Not only that she is driving around with my grandchildren in her car after she’s been drinking, but if I find out that she drove drunk, or even buzzed, with Mea in the car, I would probably kill her.

She should know better.

Maybe I should have known better too.

The truth is even the last time wasn’t the first time.  Before she turned 21, and when our oldest granddaughter was still very small, she was pulled over for an OWI.  She went to jail for a night, and had to have a breathalizer thing put on her car for a year.

The youngest granddaughter’s father just got out of prison last week for running over a kid while drunk driving.

There is a pattern here.  In her own life, and in the lives of those around her, and the biggest problem I have with it all is the kids.  They don’t deserve any of this mess, and they certainly don’t deserve to be driven around in a car by a mother who has been drinking.

As for what I should do with this information I just honestly don’t really know.  There is a part of me that thinks I should confront her about it, and there is another part of me that thinks I should call DHS privately.

What I know is that she needs help.  In some way, shape or form, she really needs help.  She obviously hasn’t learned from her past mistakes, I just don’t really know what to do.

Friends, what do you think?  Put yourself in my shoes, what would you do?

I feel like the answer is staring me in the face, and I just can’t quite get to the answer on my own.


Parking Rage

This morning, I read a blog post on Polly’s blog about parking issues at her townhouse.

I hate parking lots.  Parking ramps, lots, street parking, and sometimes even parking in your very own driveway.

People are idiots.  They cannot drive.  Think they own the road.

Last week, after pulling into a parking space at gymnastics, I had pulled in crooked, backed myself up and straightened my car out.  I hate parking crooked, and I don’t want my car to get door-dinged.

After I had actually parked the car, and started to get out of my own vehicle, a guy in a large truck pulls into the spot next to the driver’s side of my car, and nearly blocked us in.  He was so crooked, that I was able to open my door completely, but had to get Mea out from the other side of the car.  Her door wouldn’t open far enough for her to get out.

There was about five inches separating the back of my car and his.  The back-end of his truck was IN my parking spot.

As he was getting out, I said, “Are you really leaving your truck like this?”

He looked at me like I was stupid and walked away.

We got to the door and realized that we forgot Mea’s water.  Ran back to the car, and watched another guy in a bigger truck double park crookedly on the other side of my car.

I got Mea settled into class, and went out and moved my car.

Every Father’s Day, the church that is across the street from our home hosts a car show.  They have it every year.  In the eleven years that we have lived in our home, it has grown by leaps and bounds.  It makes the neighborhood a bit crazy.

Usually, the car show is over around 4 or 4:30.  We planned Father’s Day dinner with all of our kids and grandkids this year at 5:30 this year, so that we could avoid the craziness.

This year the car show wasn’t over at 4:30.  It was wrapping up right when the girls and kids were all supposed to be here.

Mea, Mack, her boyfriend, E2 and the baby and I were all sitting outside in the driveway, waiting for the other girls/kids to show up when a big truck pulled into our driveway.

The guy parks his truck, gets out, and goes across the street.

He didn’t say anything to any of us!

Just pulled into our driveway, parks and leaves.

He came back ten minutes later with his wife and their baby.  At that point I was about to call the police to have the truck towed.

When I approached him he said that he was “just picking them up.”

THIS IS OUR HOUSE!

IT IS NOT A PUBLIC PARKING LOT!

WE HAD GUESTS ON THEIR WAY TO OUR HOME WHO WERE TRYING TO PARK IN OUR DRIVEWAY!

Who in their right mind does this?

Seriously?


Proceed with Caution…

I am serious.

What is about to be spewed from my fingers via my head is a big bunch of ranty, venty, horribleness.

I want to fire myself from my current position.

Housewife.

Maid.

Chauffeur.

Mother.

Wife.

Today, really equals Kelly wanting to just run away from home.

My husband is in full baseball mode, which means he is not home.  Ever.

Mea is tired of me.

I am tired of me.

I am just tired.

Mad props to the real stay at home moms, because I cannot do this.  I am not cut out for it.  I am bored senseless.  I have cleaned, reorganized, laundered until I am bored with it.

I am starting to hate my house.

Just the sight of it, makes me want to run away.

Trying to be lighthearted about Mea not listening to me on Facebook, equaled two people calling me to see if I was okay.  All that I said was that my “Mom look” must be broken.  It is a good thing that I didn’t say what I really wanted to say on FB.  One of the calls was to see if I wanted to come to a free parenting class.  Are you fucking kidding me?

SCREAMING IN MY HEAD

I am tempted to run out the door when my husband comes home today, but I don’t know if that will “fix” anything, and I don’t really have anywhere to go, or money to spend when I would get there, or anything else.  Not to mention that gas is eleventy billion dollars a gallon.

If I did leave, the way I am feeling at the moment, I might not come back.

Two interviews tomorrow.

Say a prayer for me.

I need a job, so I can leave this house, and have conversations beyond the latest episode of Good Luck Charlie, which One Direction boy is cutest (Mea says Niall is) what is going to be on Kelly and Michael tomorrow, etc.

I am about to lose my fucking marbles.


Time Machine

I would like a time machine, so I can travel to January of 2014, and just skip the rest of this year.  I have had it.

2013 seems to be the year that if something could go wrong, it will go wrong.

This morning, I lost my job.  Ten years, one month and fifteen days gone. Poof.

A bad decision, one.

Right before Christmas, we had a blizzard.  Travel was not recommended anywhere in our city.  My husband was in a car riding to another store’s inventory, a two-hour trip took them five hours.  I was a nervous wreck all day.

We opened late.  School was cancelled.  Mea’s babysitter lives on the cusp of a hill which is also a dead-end on either end.  Not a through street.  There are many streets like this on our side of town.  Two side streets will butt up against another, and it is trapped, the last to get plowed, the last to get attention on snow days like this.

I attempted to get Mea there.

Unsuccessfully.

I attempted to take her to my parent’s house.  Again unsuccessfully.

So, I took her to the office with me.

I had three employees out of eight make it to work.

One of the others also could not get her kid to the sitter, since she uses the same one, I was not surprised.

My assistant gave me notice a month ago.  He and his girlfriend are moving to another state.  He attempted to transfer, but everywhere he interviewed he was shot down.  It’s not as simple as saying “I want to transfer.” and just moving.  You have to be wanted.  He interviews poorly.

He thought I was giving him bad recommendations.  He went to HR last week with a laundry list of things that I had supposedly done.  The only one with any merit, was this blizzard day that I took Mea with me to work.

I should have called in, and just said I couldn’t be there.

I would still have my job, if I had been less dedicated to my work.

I think my ex-assistant thought that I would get in trouble, that it would be payback for me not helping him get a job, but what he set in motion is a complete nightmare for me.

Maybe this will give me some more time with my Mom.

Maybe this will give me time to find something that I would enjoy for work more.

Maybe this will bankrupt us.

I just don’t know.  I am in a daze.

I hope that I can find something quick.

 


Chee!! Chee!! Chee!!

When my Mom was in the hospital, she did have her own, albeit, tiny (in the beginning) room.  A hospital recliner, 3 plastic chairs for visitors, and very little standing room.

Towards the end of her stay, her very nice nurse was able to get her moved to a room on the end that was twice the size, had a couch for visitors, and a flat screen TV that did not make all the people look orange.  (Mom and I watched the inauguration on her first rooms tiny, shitty TV, and we decided that even the Obama’s looked orange.)

While she was in this first room she had several different neighbors.  The first of which, my Mom nicknamed “The Moaner.”  This guy was loud.  We kept Mom’s door shut all the time, not only for privacy, but because The Moaner was so loud.

The funny thing was he would be moaning about how he wanted pain meds, and then immediately after he would say he wanted to leave the hospital.  He yelled at the nurses and aids.  He moaned incessantly, even through the night.  Which meant that my Mom did not get much sleep while he was there.

I hadn’t really heard the moaner too much.  I don’t know if he was asleep while I had been visiting up until that point, or what, but I really hadn’t heard much.  Then he started his moaning on the Monday that we were waiting for the results of the pathology report.  I finally understood why it was so frustrating having her room next door to this man. 

Reminded me of the Chee Chee lady, I said something to my Mom about it, she totally cracked up laughing, and told me that my sister had said the same exact thing the day before.

So here is the story of the Chee Chee lady.

My Dad’s mom, my grandmother, was a drunk.  It’s no secret, I’ve talked about it a few times on here before.  Ultimately, she ended up with Wet Brain, or Alzheimer’s Disease, or possibly both.  More than likely it was Wet Brain.  It had finally gotten to the point that she could not live alone any longer.  She had not driven in years, my parents took her car away after a car accident, so that she wouldn’t get into an accident and kill someone or herself.  My Mom did her shopping, and some cleaning for her after they took the car away.  They took her checkbook as well, but would leave her some spending money each week.

She befriended a cab driver who would take her to the liquor store to go buy booze. 

Shortly after my parents figured this out, and she had fallen and gotten stuck in-between the chair and footrest of her recliner and was actually stuck there for a few days, they decided it was time to put her in a nursing home.

We would go visit her at the nursing home.  She almost never knew who we were.  She would call me by my cousin’s name, call my Dad by my Uncle’s name, and sometimes she would remember who my sister was, she’d call her by her nickname, “Toad.”  She almost always remembered my Mom.  (This is a tad bit funny since there was no love between the two of them.  Apparently even people who have drank themselves stupid can remember who they don’t like.  Believe me, my Mom’s feeling were not hurt.) 

My grandmother had a roommate at the nursing home.  She was also completely off her rocker.

She would sit in her bed and scream, “CHEE!  CHEE!  CHEE!  CHEE!  CHEE!….”  Over and over again, usually rocking back and forth in her bed, hands over her ears.  My sister and I were quite disturbed by it.  Our parents would try to ignore it.  Sometimes a nurse would come and take her out of the room if they knew we were there visiting.

One day, while we were visiting, the Chee Chee lady started her screaming, (or Cheeing, for lack of a better word) and my grandmother started screaming back at her.  I don’t remember what was said, but I do remember that for the rest of that visit the Chee Chee lady was quiet.