Yesterday was my 40th birthday. I have not really ever made a big deal over ages or birthdays, but for some reason yesterday I was an emotional mess.
I cried over everything.
Woke up and watched When a Man Loves a Woman with Meg Ryan and Andy Garcia. That probably wasn’t the greatest way to start off the day on a bright note, but maybe it sets the stage for the tearfest.
My husband and Mea gave me cards. Tearfest.
Met my good friend for lunch, and when she showed up with flowers and a cupcake. Tearfest.
Came home to find flowers delivered from my Mack. Tearfest. Read the rest of this entry »
I am turning into not a very nice person. The last year, has had an unfortunate effect of making me a bitter, crabby, bitchy person. This is probably not really all that true, but I just don’t know how much more I can take.
Mea has said to me, too many times to count, that I am always making a frowny face. Which is not good for my overall mood, not to mention that I am going to end up with permanent frown lines, and need Botox or something.
Let’s do a recap of 2013 so far…
My Mom diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.
Fired from job of 10 years.
Unemployment for four and a half months.
More than one friend or friend’s spouse diagnosed with cancer.
One job offer, at a significant cut in pay.
Big daughter moves to Ohio.
House is broken into.
Small daughter’s babysitter quits with no notice right before Thanksgiving.
Big daughter calls crying as her work will not let her have any time off for Christmas, and she cannot come home.
This last one is just the icing on the cake.
Mack can’t afford to just quit her job, it took her 2 months to even find this crappy job she doesn’t really like, she had talked about just quitting and coming home, but this just isn’t really a reasonable thing to do. My Mom is just devastated. My heart hurts, I cried at work this morning. Blubbered all over one of my co-workers.
I cannot even begin to tell you what this is going to do to Mea. She is going to be crushed. She has said multiple times that she only wants Mack home for Christmas. Now, she’s not fooling me completely, she still wants a guitar (she’s getting that) a computer (not so much) a I-Pod Touch (nope) and a Nerf bow and arrow (yes!), but I cannot provide the one thing that she has asked for over and over again. It is at the top of each Christmas list. I have even heard her whispering it to Sparkle Heart….
“I want my MackamooSissy home for Christmas….”
This breaks my heart, not just for Mea, but for me too. I miss Mack like crazy. I have been good, I haven’t complained about her not being here, I was sad when she wasn’t here for Thanksgiving, and I had to suck it up a few times. I can only begin to imagine what Christmas without her is going to be like.
Every year, for as long as she has been alive, and old enough to actually “help” Nana decorate their house for Christmas, she has been the main “elf” doing all of the decorating. She told my Mom before she left for Ohio, that she understood that decorating couldn’t wait, but to please save the nativity for her to put out.
My Mom made the nativity scene with her ceramics ladies. Sanded, painted, and fired each piece herself. The nativity has always been Mack’s last duty in the decorating. Mom was saving it for her.
My Mom sent me a text that she can’t put it out. She had my Dad put the box back in storage.
We are going to pull everything together, get it wrapped so that I can get it shipped out in time for Mack and her boyfriend to have gifts to open. Some of her stuff isn’t here yet, so I guess she may end up getting some of her presents in installments. She has been making many of her gifts for the kids and grown-ups, so they are not all finished either. I told her I would help her with the shipping when she was ready and able.
We have been planning on going out to visit over Spring Break, and to be honest, March 14th cannot come soon enough for me. I need to see my girl. I need to be able to touch her and give her a hug. Skype is wonderful, but it’s not exactly the same thing as giving your big girl a snuggle.
I am over this year.
It has been awful, and I just don’t know how much more I can take.
I’m tired of whining.
I’m tired of not being my normal snarky, somewhat happy self.
A few weekends ago, my husband and I went away for the weekend. It was the first time we have left Mea. It is also the first time that we had gone anywhere just the two of us, since our honeymoon.
We really needed that trip. It was good for us. Mea lived, and although she was super pissed that we left her, she had lots of fun with her big sister, E1, her niece and her nephew, and the following night with her Aunt and cousins.
We didn’t really do anything that we couldn’t have done here, but going out-of-town made us spend time together. It was all good. We ate junk food and drank in the middle of the day, we went to a movie that was rated R, and last longer than an hour and a half.
We had fun.
When we got home, we picked Mea up, and went home and started our normal Sunday routine. I got laundry started, went to the grocery store, fed my family lunch and dinner.
I did notice that the majority of the clothes that I had sent for Mea to wear while we were gone was still clean, folded, and hadn’t been worn. When she was at her sister’s house, she claimed she didn’t have any shirts (she had two in that bag) and when she was at her Aunt’s house she swore that I hadn’t packed her any pants, to which my sister just told her to wear the pants she had worn the day before.
I am a little surprised that the grown-ups didn’t question this a little more, but whatever. She had at least two full outfits in each bag. We left Friday night, and came home Sunday morning. I totally over packed her, and it was for no reason.
After dinner, I went to help Mea get ready for her bath. She was being silly, super squirrelly, and was forcing me to help her get undressed. I get her pants off, and look at her feet.
She was wearing the same socks that I had helped her put on Friday morning.
They were once white.
They were about ten shades of brown when I peeled them off of her feet.
I posted something on Facebook about it, just being my normal smart ass self, giving my sister and E1 a hard time for not doing a very good job of Mea sitting.
The next morning, my Mom told me that she got the biggest laugh out of Mea not changing her socks.
She said that once she had a seven-year-old daughter, (duh, it was me) who she dropped off for a weekend camping trip for Brownies. Apparently, this daughter wore the same socks, underwear, and undershirt the entire weekend. They had gone hiking in the woods, and it had been muddy. They did stuff around the camp fire. Apparently, she even walked in only socked feet back and forth to the latrine a few times as well.
As we were talking I could hear the smile in my Mom’s voice, remembering this silly story of her seven-year old daughter being a dirty little piglet during her first camping trip.
I, of course, do not recall doing this. I do remember camping with Girl Scouts plenty of times, but I don’t remember my filthy socks.
It’s the little stories like this that I soak up and savor so much these days. I have a hard time thinking about all of the stories that I don’t know, or no longer remember, and how they could someday just be gone because I was too young to remember or notice, and my Mom may not be there to tell the story to me. How one of my children doing something silly like not changing her socks will remind my Mom of something similar that either I did, or that my sister did at the same exact age.
I hope to hear more of these.
Actually, I hope to hear all of these.
PS. Guys! I am writing again. Words come out when I come here! Thank you for sticking with me.
I feel like I am a character in a bad Lifetime movie.
It seems that each time things are starting to move in the right direction in one part of my life, or the lives of my loved ones, something else falls apart in another area of my life or another loved one.
I am getting really sick of it.
I mean really fucking sick of it.
This morning, Mea’s babysitter pulled me aside and told me that her husband has cancer. They do not know what kind yet, (they have ruled out prostate, but have said very little else to them) they just have a location, something in his lower area, most likely back/hip/pelvis area. PET test to come sometime next week, so they will know what they are dealing with.
She told me and I burst into tears. They are the closest thing to a second set of grandparents that Mea has, Mack too for that matter.
These people are more than just Mea’s babysitter. I have known them since I was a child. Mack was Jimbo’s girl. Every time I see him he asks me about Mack. Which is almost daily. Mea is his little cuddle bug too.
I am just sick.
I am worried about them.
I sent them flowers and candy this afternoon.
And although it is somewhat selfish, I have been worried about what it will mean for our daycare situation. I hate the thought of Mea going anywhere but there. I also don’t know how they will be able to keep up with daycare, and take care of Jim’s needs once they come up with a treatment plan.
I know firsthand how crazy those first several months were with my Mom, and I also know that if she had a bunch of kids around her all day long every single day that she would have gone nuts. Not to mention that it can be a little scary for the little kids to see someone they love sick. I am terrified that this is starting to be a “normal” thing that Mea has to see and live with.
I just need a break from all this stupid cancer business.
I am sure all the people who are actually dealing with it want the same thing.
It just pisses me off.
I am just so done.
Believe it or not, I have come to this place many times in the last several weeks. I just couldn’t make any words come out when I would sit down.
I have a little green notebook in my purse where I have been jotting down ideas of things to blog about.
Whether it is some silly Meaism, or a story from my past, or something that has happened recently, those ideas have gone in this little notebook.
The thing is when I get here, and sign in, I kind of freeze, and no matter how many times I look at the pages of notes I have made in the little green notebook, I can’t pull the words together to form even one sentence.
Today, I opened the notebook, and then picked it back up and buried it back into the bottom of my purse.
I miss it here. I miss you friends out there so much. I hope you are still there. I hope you haven’t given up on me.
I won’t lie, this year has been a hard one. Most likely the hardest in all of my life. First my Mom getting sick, my old job, new job, Mack moving so very far away, I just haven’t dealt with it all too well. I am trying, but I am also trying not to get too lost.
I was just rattling around doing the best at I could at functioning for a while. The things I loved to do took a back seat while I tried to pull myself back together. I haven’t read an entire book in more than six months. I have bought several, started and stopped them. My cooking and baking has taking a hiatus, which has had a positive effect on all of our waistlines, but still. My blog and my blog peeps.
The thing is, that this blog is my best therapy. I have to tell myself that you guys don’t necessarily need a funny, jokey story where I make fun of myself, every single time you come here. Sadly, sometimes I just need to be me and vent my bad shit out so I can go on.
I think this is where I am. I need to get some of the bad out, so the good can come back in.
Even if it’s something short, I will be back daily for a while. I need to get back in the groove of things.
I may need to start things off by getting rid of this. It hasn’t done me any favors. I may go bury it in the backyard when I get home.
In no particular order, I give you the crap in my brain.
- We have now Skyped with Mack (and her boyfriend, sorta) twice now.
- This is a great way for Mea and Mack to talk to each other.
- Mea can be her silly self, and show off for her sister, and for Mack and I to see each other’s faces.
- We are taking Mea to the drive-in on Saturday.
- We are keeping it a surprise, but my husband and I are both excited to take her to experience something we both did as kids,
- My friend whose husband was recently diagnosed with stomach cancer, was given really bad news this week. According to the doctor’s the cancer laughed at the chemo.
- He went through twenty weeks of 24/7 chemo, had his stomach removed a few weeks ago,.
- They gave him two months to a year.
- So sad.
- I just don’t understand this sometimes.
- Why would the doctors put him through that horrible surgery if he was that bad?
- I am filing this under things I will never understand.
- For the record, cancer is a mother-fucker.
- I submitted something I wrote to a writing contest online.
- I am nervous about it, but I am also glad that I actually put myself up for the challenge.
- Thanks to Polly, I overcame my fear and submitted something.
- This may be a first step to doing something more with my writing.
- Thank you Polly.
- I had to work on Saturday.
- We work once every 6 weeks.
- There is no coffee to be found in our downtown prior to 7 am.
- I did not know this.
- A total coffee fail.
- I got to work at 7, and had to wait until 9:30 to have some caffeine.
- They didn’t turn the lights on in our office.
- I think this was by our manager’s choice.
- No coffee, being at work at 7, and no lights, made for a very sleepy morning.
- As I was going through caffeine withdrawal, I thought about how Jen completely kicked her coffee habit.
- I am too weak to give it up.
- Thank goodness that only happens once every six weeks.
- My husband told all the big girls that we would take all the grand-kids overnight sometime soon.
- I seriously think he may have lost his mind.
- Six kids ages 10 months to ten.
- Please pray I live through this without killing any of them or him.
- I may go hide in my bedroom with the baby all night, and let him deal with the big ones.
- I have been giving serious thought to a tattoo, or rather, two tattoos.
- Meaning of each of the girl’s names in their handwriting.
- Mack wrote hers out for me, “Born of Fire.”
- I still need Mea to do hers, “Mine.”
- Then I will figure out where to put them, thinking the inside of each wrist, and where I am going to go to do this.
- When I told my husband that I was thinking of doing this, he thought the big girls would be weird about not being part of it.
- They are not weird about it at all.
- I did actually think of doing all of their names.
- E1 and E2 both have good name meanings.
- E1 is “Ever Powerful”, and E2 is “Peace.”
- C is the problem.
- All the way around, as there are still all the issues, but her name is a problem.
- C’s name means “Chalk Landing Place.”
- So, the answer to that is no.
- That is just not going to happen.
- I know not everyone checks the meaning of their children’s names before naming them, but I think it is a pretty important part of the process.
- Their names are part of them, as essential as their eye and hair color.
- If I would decide later to do something for them, I may do the flowers for their birth months or something along those lines.
- I also don’t plan on turning into a crazy tattooed lady either.
- So there is that.
With that, I am done.
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.