You lied....

When I first looked upon your face,  you said you would always ask me about my day.

You lied. 

You said I could always count on you; you'd be a shoulder, a friend,  a support.

You lied.

You said I would never feel alone, like I had no one in this world. 

You lied.

You said I was special. I wanted to feel special.  

You lied.

I wanted to belong, to be part of something special.  

You lied.

Perspective - a decade in review

A new decade emerges on us tomorrow causing me to sit and pause. Ten years may not seem like many to some; to me, it was a lifetime - a lifetime of change, heartbreak, self learning, self-care, and growth. The thread that held this decade together was a golden thread of strength. 

In 2010, I was still married to and living  with my abusive  husband, putting on a stellar charade and fooling everyone around me that life was beautiful, and doing the Lord's work was right where I wanted to be. I, afterall, was required to be a "gatekeeper" - proving to all that no matter the circumstances or depth of my heartbreak (my oldest daughter moving out) the "Lord Jesus was my healer, saviour, provider and all I would ever need". Bull fucking shit.

In 2011 my relationship with my daughter was growing stronger again and on the way to wonderfully mended. I also began having terrible, gut feelings that my husband was stepping out with other ladies on his many, many weeks away from home and his top-secret, late night meetings at "the church". There was also the fact that he and a (very vocally) unhappily married woman were the only chaperones on each and every youth event that ever happened.  Not much imagination required as to what happened there.

2012 found the hostility and behind-closed-doors violence occurring much more frequently. There was, in this year, no physical violence which led my husband to boast about how he was a "changed and ever so godly" man. Behind the veil of our bedroom door however, the sexual violence was increasing as was the emotional/mental abuse. I was being so broken down and, if my faked charm, charisma and joy were not stellar public performances, the tongue-lashings and beratings were shattering. 

The next year, 2013, was the year I had been hoping for since 1997. It was the year someone saved me from the hell I was living. In a tremendously ironic twist of fate, my abuser saved me from himself.  He text me while I was at work, stating he was leaving....a common punishment tactic to cause me to panic, fear how I could make it without him and step my submissive wife game up exponentially for him. Only this time I didn't play by his rules and my response, with being in the safety of my co-workers,I called his bluff. He emptied our bank account (all but $20 for me to pay rent, utilities and get groceries for the kids and I) and vomited his sob story around town until someone offered him a place to stay. 

I worked hard and saved enough money to get the kids and I out of the ghetto and into a fairly decent area of town with a decent school nearby, and I took myself on a week long trip over Christmas as I didn't have my kids for that week.

My season of change began in 2014, I met my current husband. Our relationship started off as a friendship and no expectations of more which is why I think things worked out the way they did...we were able to get to know each other without pretenses. 

My ex-husband married the woman he had been chaperoning the youth group with...hahaha In hindsight I laugh because I totally called it. They were married before the ink on our divorce papers had even dried and do you know what, I'm totally at peace with that. What I'm not at peace with is the onslaught of information I received as I learned of some of the horrific things he had done.

My world, as I knew it, was shattered with the unexpected death of my nephew just days before Rush's wedding to 4x4. 83's mother and ex-father-in-law were diagnosed with cancer and succumbed to their illnesses within days of each other. In behind the scenes of all this grief, Jellybean was going through her own battles and was beginning to share snippets of her life - nothing that would ever prepare me for the bomb she would drop in the new year.

2015, I moved in with 83 and merged our families and homes. Jellybean released a lot of secrets that she had been bearing the weight of for far too long, and informed me that the abuses I had endured had been transferred to her. This lead to a complete undoing of self  - everything I had ever known, every strength I had vanished like a vapor as I did all I could to support my baby and help her heal. 

In the revelation of secrets she unburdened herself from, she also revealed another affair her father had had (with someone I had suspected) - a young woman the same age as his eldest daughter and her youngest child was very likely his.

Our focus was on getting Jellybean the help, support and resources she needed to rebuild.  We spent many sleepless nights, sitting in her room on suicide watch hoping to help her make it through one day at a time. 

On a positive spin, I got to see Nova Scotia for the first time and fell madly in love with her.

In 2016, we got Jellybean to Nova Scotia for a break from the heaviness of life, just as we were starting her court proceedings against her father. There was a big suicide scare and there was a brief stint in Mental Health inpatient care for her that was far too short and far too long. Too short as I am sure she required more help.  Too long as each minute she was there felt like an eternity. 

In this time, my child opened up to me and told me she thinks she is gay. That revelation changes nothing in how I love her or view her.

She stole my car.  She was hoping that she would be kicked out. She was not. She ran away.  She came back.  She ran away again.  We still spoke every day and she visited often. Her mental health suffered greatly and she had terrible anxiety attacks and on Mother's Day in 2017, she informed me that my gift was that she was a boy. I had a hard time accepting the death of my daughter and the hopes and dreams I had for her and I; I did not stop loving my child. 

In 2018, I married my best friend...with that marriage I inherited all the crazy antics his ex-wife presents to us. It was a beautiful, quiet wedding set in the best place....nature....out in the middle of the forest. We toured a bit in Alberta....it was splendid. 

Life was a bit on autopilot for me...There had been a lot of heavy information and heavy trauma hitting me throughout the years...and autopilot is what I needed to deal and to heal.

Bug began having a hard time and was making choices that were dangerous and frightening to my, 83 and to his teachers. He also lost a friend to suicide.

2019 has been the icing on a cake of bizarre plotlines and plot twists. My middle child, Jellybean, my now son, excommunicated our entire family for a variety of reasons that aren't the truth but are his truth.  My heart is shattered but hopeful that one day he will see his truth was somewhat skewed and that I was not so sure how to handle the situation properly.  There's no manual for this and I know I made mistakes but never because I didn't accept or love him.

The last 6 months of 2019 found me so dreadfully ill and in extreme pain that it was only the last week of the year where I actually enjoyed living. Bug began making way better choices, joined the football team and getting healthier with his state of mind. We all witnessed a lot of dark things that we have needed to process.

All of these lead up to what sounds like a pretty shitty decade but I think it sounds like a decade ramped up with strength, courage and resilience. 

Here's to all 2020 and another decade has to offer....lots of change in the horizon, my friends.  

Grief

Grief truly is this unexpressed love that no longer has an outlet. It's this flow of adoring energy that gets stopped up somewhere alongside that lump in your throat; you know, the one that triggers your tears.

But I must be stronger than that. 

Pushes the tears away.

But I can't let them see me cry right now. 

Swallows back the sobs.

It wasn't a choice I was in control over. 

Smiles softly to those at my side.

Stopped up love is grief. Stopped up grief is a killer.

Finally

finally a diagnosis for this 6 months of extreme physical pain my body has been in. Finally an answer that is neither scary or crippling - a tad overwhelming but that is all.

I can do overwhelming.  I can do one day at a time, especially when I have been told it should be completely gone in 2 years.

Finally a medication that helped relieve the pain.  One day in, on a super high dose before tapering off,  and I am already noticing a huge diffrrence. I was able to dress and prepare for the day without debilitating pain. I even sat on the wooden benches to watch my step-son's game and could get up without walking like a 102 year old woman.

Finally,  after 6 months of scattered sleep from all this pain, I slept through the night, waking only momentarily at 1:56 am. I was distraught thinking "here we go again", but a guided meditation video and relaxation breathing exercises lulled me right back into a sweet slumber.

Another "finally" and a bizarre one at that, after a year long silent treatment from my husband's ex, She Who Shant Be Named, communicated with me 2 days in a row. I damn near fell over from the shock of it all. Don't get me wrong, I'm prepared for one of 2 things: 

A. a blow up like last year where she tries to hurt my feelings telling me to go to hell. She clearly has no idea how exciting that would be. I've longed to go to Norway for as long as I could breath.

B. This was an isolated weekend, or she took her medication or the Christmas Spirit moved her and...the Silent Treatment will resume.

Not too sure if she realizes that as much as I wish the two of us could get along and be, at least, friendly with each other for the kids, her silence doesn't bother me. In actuality,  it is a necessity for peace of mind - at least until she learns to control her tongue, her temper, her jealousy and her idiotic notions that she is a victim in a circus she created. 

so fucking tired

I'm so fucking tired of Princess S.M. and her shit don't stink attitude. She is an abuser and has continued to do so for almost  6 years. 

There's no end in sight to this. None.  I'm lost and hopeless. 

Deplorable lunacy

The discussion began with her demanding the kids on Halloween.  She was told she could get 1.5 hours. He was told she intended to kidnap the kids from school - regardless of his wishes or desire or instruction for his week of access.

She dropped the children off on their usual schedule and one child came with a costume.  No other discussion had been had or settled  regarding Halloween. We had already bought costumes for our house.

We decided to have them home and ready to go for 6, presuming she was going to come. One had no costume sent over so she was sent with no costume. She did come.

We were accused of being deplorable,  of lunacy and of damaging children. She brought them home late because she does whatever the fuck she wants anyway.

Two faces   One for the people she tries to fool. One for us. It exudes emotional abuses each time it looks our way.  She tries to break us, not only emotionally but relationally.  She tries to ruin moments so the kids only have memories of things not going well, or upset and confusion.

I wish she would move on, find her happiness so she can stop trying to ruin ours. Jealousy is an ugly accessory she has chosen to wear.

Ironically,  her attempts are met with our laughter. Pumpkin, move on, let go and sort through your shit. 

Another failure

I'm angry at myself for being afraid... afraid to swim afraid to learn...afraid.
I miss out on so much fun.
My husband, with the kids,  in the deep end and diving  off the board.
There I sit, in a corner, of the shallow end...a loser...inept.
They are in the lake, far beyond my comfort zone, and I turn back, wrap my towel around myself,  bury my toes in the sand and try to forbid that hot tear from escaping.

Not so blended

When one ingredient doesn't want to blend.... you know, like when you are making gravy and add the cornstarch or flour without making it into a rue first.... and then you wind up with lumpy gravy that doesn't appeal to anyone.

One of the children in our blended family has absolutely nothing to do their step parent's family.  The only time this child gets involved is when materialistic fun comes into play. There is so much selfishness and zero acceptance or participation... As parent and step parent,  this is heartbreaking to watch and to be subjected to.  It is difficult to bear witness to the blatant disregard of our family unit...especially knowing how this child is ignored from the other side of their family when they are there.

My role

My role has changed

to chauffeur and bank roll.

to silent but supportive yet inconsequential

I will never claw my way out from under her fucking shadow  and I must accept that or move on.

here we go again

I have dealt with one child not wanting me in their life and that lasted awhile, as I have written about here, but my middle child, the one who was abused, the one who has chosen to be a boy, the one one who has suffered with mental health issues and extreme anxiety and depression, has now expelled me from their life. I would love to say "for now" but I just can't say for certain.

The grief is similar to that of mourning the death of a loved one.  My heart is shattered. I am wrecked.  I can't recover from this....it will change me.

I can only hope that one day comes where I am welcomed back. Until then, I need to learn how to make the best of this new normal....

Under Shadows

How do I live under your shadow?
How do I continue to thrive?
How do I have limits and boundaries?
How can I even survive?

Your shadow haunts my fucking hallways,
A place where you have never been.
Every wilderness trail, shop, corner store...
This is getting damn well obscene.

I'm tired of the measuring stick at my door step.
So sick of everyone's  need to compare.
Such bullshit nothing can just be ours.
My heart hurts from my despair.

Your presence invades my space daily;
I wish you'd please just give us space.
Does he even see me
Or does he still just see your face?

Choose beauty

I try to see the beauty of every day. There has to be at least one beautiful thing every day, right? That gorgeous sunrise or sunset that paints the sky. The hoar frost that blankets the trees. The sundog that wraps itself around the sun. The gleam in your love's eyes. The sound of a child's laughter rippling through the mundane....

But, honestly, there are days that shit doesn't cut it....somedays where it takes an awful lot to see beyond the bad - let alone the beautiful.

83 and I have a situation in our lives that likes to raise the ooglay bar more often than not, intentionally trying to zap each and every ounce of beauty in our lives. A parasitic situation that latches on with lockjaw strength. There were times we let the situation steal our joy...however, it never successfully tore us apart.

Lately, we have chosen to simply laugh at the idiocy of it all. Honestly,  the shit that happens (and how laced it is with lunacy and illogicality  and paranoia) is, from an outside perspective,  hilarious at best.

We couldn't make the nonsense up if we tried... With great certainty,  I'd bet money that the genius imaginations of the likes of J.R.R Tolkein and George Lucas could not fathom the mania nor how the bottom can fall right out of it and how quickly that can happen.

And so, we both struggled to find the beauty in those days. There is no beauty in irrational behavior, narcasstic patterns or entitled mindsets. So how did we decide to not allow it to zap our joy, peace and sanctuary?

We simply accepted that we are not responsible for the behavior or choices or even perceptions of anyone other than ourselves. If our motives are questioned and misinterpreted by ignorance, let it be so. If our behaviours threaten the insecurities of the unhinged, let it be so.

There is beauty in the knowledge that you are in control of the peace, joy and well-being in only the space you make up. Our responsibility is to keep our souls peaceful and protected, and to protect our home environment.  Within the confines of our house is a space that welcomes friends and family, a space that is calming, restful and welcoming - filled with love and laughter.

In that space, we choose to find our beauty. Together, we strive to make it such by being watchful of the attitudes that walk through our doorway. Malicious, unapologetic,  ill-willed people are lucky to make it to the step let alone gain access (although one such person likes to find ways to utilize naivety and youthful innocence to barge their way where they are not welcome when we are not home).

The long and the short of it is this, we have made a conscious decision to not allow others to rob our joy, to smell the flowers, to breath in the fresh air, to allow the mud to squish between our toes and to enjoy the beauty in the every day on this journey we walk together.

Is it always easy? Fuck, no. Sometime we need to be reminded what our priorities are for our lives. How awesome it is to be part of a relationship where it is rare for both people to be down at the same time; gentle reminders from the other encourage and strengthen. At times those gentle reminders sound more like "stop feeling sorry for yourself" or 'stop pouting". Haha.

When you get down to the nitty gritty  there really is beauty in every day....it just depends if we decide to feed the ugly or feed the beauty. I would rather feed the beauty.

Who am I?

Who am I?

Something I have been rediscovering the last 6 years.

I spent almost 2 decades being told what music I could (or could not) listen to (in fact, I was made to burn all my music), what food I liked, what clothes I was to wear, how I was to respond to people, who I could or could not spend time with, and what my demeanor would be....just to name a few...

6 years ago, I found myself looking at my reflection in the mirror and having absolutely no idea who I was.

I reflected...a lot. I went back to what I enjoyed as a kid. It had to be a good starting point. As a child, I spent every minute I possibly could outside - with the animals in the pasture, exploring the woods and the creeks and watching the beavers build their dams, getting on my horse after breakfast and wandering through the woods until supper, climbing in the round bales, making forts and tunnels in the bales (much to the dismay of my parents and grandparents), nestling in the straw piles beside the calves, berry picking, trying to stalk deer to capture pictures of them or any other wildlife, making boats out of scrap wood and sailing them down the run off, listening to the wolves howling and lulling me to sleep....you get the idea.

I adored that time, found it peaceful and rejuvenating.

Back to nature I went and rediscovered the love I have always had for the magic of the outdoors.

I went back to the music that had become my anthems as a teenager.  I found myself on a path that empowered me once again and I evolved from there.

My art.... I discovered painting. I just can't seem to draw as I once had. I wrote and wrote. It helped me process - just as it always had. The writing of words is cathartic and healing for me. Now, I just need to tap open that valve in my soul from whence poetry flowed...

Surround me with nature in my home: driftwood, rocks, gemstones, shells, sand, the warming glow of candles, the welcoming greenery....

I discovered yoga and the healing power of what I call "zen music".
I'm back to taking pictures of pinecones and moss, clouds and lightning, wildlife and flowers....

I've rediscovered (and am still discovering day by day) who I am. I'm a beautiful mix of heavy metal and yoga, happiest outdoors (be it in the middle of a forest or beside crashing waves near the ocean), capturing life through my camera, berry picking, canning, baking, extroverted introvert homebody

From the ashes

Wow....
It sure has been a lifetime since I darkened this doorway....

I don't know if any of my readers are still around. If you are...hey! If I am wandering the halls of this blog alone, that's ok. I do this mostly to sort through and process. Writing has always been my favored means of communicating. I love formulating thoughts and telling stories. It truly is cathartic.

Almost 6 years ago my life derailed - at least the life I thought I had to live. There were casualties and freedoms, moments that gutted me and moments that rocked me to my core - forever changing who I am.

I wish I had had the capability to journey through that with you all but, to be honest, I still don't have the words or ability to understand a great deal of it.

May I present to you the cliffnotes version of the last 6 years....

1.  B.D. and I parted ways....he was cheating on me with at least 2, known to me, women. There was, which I now am brave enough to say, years of domestic and sexual abuse that was a well-kept secret because image...

and also because FEAR.

There are too many things to catch up on that  now is not the time to delve deeper into this issue and the growth I have experienced through my healing.

2. Less than a year into taking my first steps into freedom,  safety and rebuilding,  my world shattered when I received news that my dearest friend lost her son in a motorcycle accident.  If you have read here previously, you may remember that we met as brand new teen moms in our hospital beds as we held our newborn babies and we have been through the best and worst if humanity together....and now, the unthinkable.

I can't go a day without him taking a stroll through my mind, my memories or my heart.

3. I took a little trip. Where did I go? I went to heal my soul in the rain forest. (I still have a long road ahead of me but this trip was the most therapeutic thing I could have done for myself.) I went to Panama. 
There is something purely magical and healing that happens when you stand in the middle of the rain forest (surrounded by sloths, capuchin monkeys, exotic birds and, apparently,  a jaguar) and the moment you offer your broken pieces to the universe for repair is a truly humbling one.

4.  My daughter divulged to me secrets she carried regarding her father and his behavior that no one, let alone a child,  should have to bear the burden. She pressed charges but the courts let her down. It changed my poor Jellybean in ways I cannot properly understand and I have lost every hope and dream I once held dear for my child. However,  I am most grateful that I am still able to wrap my arms around my baby and tell this precious soul how much they are loved.

5. Jellybean, now 18 years old, lives with roommates and has for the last almost 3 years. Plans for graduation are hopeful for this year although Jellybean is attempting to complete a year and a half in one year. if it takes longer, it takes longer.  Every step forward is a step forward.
Bug, almost 16  years old, has his learners driving permit and lives with me full-time.

6. Bug reminds me a lot of myself as a teenager - in boy form.

7. After years of oppression and abuse, and being placed in a constant state of survival mode,  I began to rediscover who I am.

Who I truly am was long lost in the identity and ideals I had to take on to appease violence and anger in my home.

I found me again. Well, honestly, I'm still working on this and still learning more daily  It has been an adventure -  a journey full of ebbs and flows, triumphs and set-backs, victories and disappointments.

Sometimes certain behaviors of people send me reeling into a state of instant panic, instant fear and I find I have healed just enough that I stand up for myself and my family but not quite healed enough to stand up against those moments in the most effective manner. I cower or I bare my teeth.  Fight or flight. According to the counselor I saw, to help me through the healing process, the fight or flight response is on alert 150% of the time for survivors of violence and for those with PTSD as a result of that violence.

8. I met and married an incredible, kind and gentle man. We will have been married coming on 2 years this summer. With him, I gained 3 fabulous little characters into my family.  (Names for the 4  will need to be explored)

9. We rescued a dog....or she rescued us....but we have each other. July 30 of this year marks our 1 anniversary of Gotcha Day. She will be known by Creep within the walls of this space.

and the most joyful of my updates....

10. Rush married her high school sweetheart, 4x4, 5 years ago this June AND.....coming up on 15 months ago, they welcomed their firstborn, a handsome little man (he needs an interweb name as well....)

So, there you have it, the last 6 years in a nutshell....I saved the positives for the end because I believe in ending anything that is negatively toned with positivity.

Parenting moments

Some of my best and worst moments of parenthood are those spent with a fevered, whimpering, sweaty, sobbing, achy child in my arms.

Best, not because I am some sadist who thrives on seeing my children bed-ridden and weak from some ailment. Best because there is a nurturing thread that becomes tied between the two once again...an umbilical replacement so to speak...

2 years, 5 years, 9 years, 13 years, 20 years...it doesn't matter the age...soft whispers in the throws of restless sleep and fevered dreams of "I'm glad you're here, mommy" moments... gentle strokes to their brow to ease them to sleep while dozy, glossy eyes look at you as though deep pools of love...

I, myself, remember the comfort, the safety, the security I felt as I lay with my fevered head on my father's lap as his strong calloused farmer hands would gently stroke my forehead or as he would gently lift me off the couch, carrying me to the comfort of my own bed...

Worst moments...helplessly holding back your child's hair as their little body wretches, wiping down their hot faces with a cool cloth as fever-induced dreams cause whimpers and tears, as aches and pains you can't take away escape their half conscious lips...soft lullabies sung, gentle music playing, gentle stories to lure sleep to come...frail giggles as you try to tell a joke just to bring some joy, however fleeting, to their little bodies...

Parenthood has been one of the greatest, heart-wrenching, exhausting, most rewarding, joyful moments of raw emotion of my life...  ups and downs, joys and heart breaks...it is my greatest joy...

Now, as I type this, watching my beautiful Jellybean's shallow, fevered breaths finally sleep after a trying weekend of sickness...I will close my computer, lay beside her, maybe close my own eyes and pray that when she wakes this sickness will have left her...

The Stork Cometh

Oh yes, the stork is coming and he is bringing us a gift! We are going to be grandparents again! Our son, Tuff and his girlfriend, K are expecting and their due date...a week before my birthday... :D

My heart is singing to meet this new little person!!!

Snowmagedon!!!!

And I am not exaggerating! Not even a little! We have had so much snow this year, the city is "running out of places to put it" and are considering shutting down one side to some of our side streets so they can use it for snow. Like really?????

Let me give you a little example of the 2012/2013 Canadian winter thus far

Average snowfall for us (October to January) is 65.5 centimeters or 25.8 inches
Our actual snowfall this year, from Oct 1 to Jan 28, 2013 was 114.4 centimeters or 45 inches!

And it continues! By February 5  we had all ready exceeded our normal February snowfall!!!!

The past few days, temperature wise have been ok but before that, we were looking at -48 Celsius (-54.4 F), -51 Celsius (-59.8 F)...that is including the windchill...

We have had no snowdays...I have not missed work due to the snow..apparently Canada all provinces, except for BC (I hear they have snow days), don't believe in them...I have been late for work...sitting in snowbanks waiting to be pulled out because shovelling and pushing have failed to get me out...but no snow days...deep in my Canadian heart, I kind of wish we did have a snow day here and there...but then common sense takes over and I realize we would be shut down for 1/3 of the year so maybe not...so, I will take the snow and make proverbialy lemonade...in the shape of snow forts and sliding and frolicking in the mountains of snow.

I hope whatever part of the world you are from, you are feeling happy, loved, content and joyful no matter the state around you.

Humor between siblings

My brother and I have some of the funniest text conversations I have ever had, and most likely ever will have, with anyone and, for this reason, I am wanting to note one of these conversations mainly for my own nostalgia but, if you manage to get a chuckle out of my brother and I...that is a good thing too.

I get random, bizzare messages from him and they usually snowball between the two of us. Here is the most recent example; I would also like to point out that this particular scenerio began at 8:01 am: (S represents him and M will represent me)
S: NOOOOOOORM
M: Cliff? Cliff Claven is that you??
S: Ouch
M Maybe it's Sam...I can't see from here
S: Diane
M: Shudder
M: Carla?
S: Random space filler sitting at back table pretending to talk
M: Some creep hitting on Carla and ending up face down on bar, witty banter...laugh track resounds...
S: Random legs walking past the upstairs window
M: Cliff deciding he knows who it is and telling everyone the history of how shoes were invented
S: Sam trying to get blond to go home with him getting shut down so resorts to trying for Diane
M: Diane, feeling like sloppy seconds, runs out of bar crying hysterically about not being appreciated...blah blah....camera pans left....Carla is seeing grinning like cheshire cat...end scene
S: Credits roll
M: Everyone goes to bed because it is a school night
S: with a flashlight to read comic
M: with head completely under blankets so parents don't see light...
S: yet they knoew and you get a crappy school lunch in the morning as punishment
M: Klik with cod liver oil pills and a prune juice juicebox
S: If you squeeze them {the cod liver oil capsules...note added by me for clarification} over the fridge you don't taste it {this is what we used to do because our dad got us to have cod liver oil capsules daily}
M: So I have heard...just don't give dad a reason to look up and find evidence
S: Then stop beating up your brother
M: It was the one who shall remain unnamed...it wasn't me...enter Shaggy to sing his song
S: Could have beat me on the counter. Wasn't me. Chipped my tooth on the fridge...wasn't me
M: LOL...you are funny
     Look at the other sister...it wasn't me...I'd have never hit ya...it wasn't me...

This is just a sample of our dialogue from that day...this part began at 8:01 am and ended at 9:13 am...it continued until 3:02 pm and just got more random and more bizzare. BigDaddy thinks we are strange but...I am so glad I have a brother I can be silly with still even at the ages of thirthysomethingnolongerchildren years old....

Ramblings of a married single-mom

I heard you..."say what!", you all say... what kind of oxymoronical mumbo jumbo is this girl spewing...?  I know; I know...but it is true...this past week and almost every second week for the last 3 1/2 years (once 7 weeks in a row) I was and will continue to be a married single-mom...in that I am married but am singular in the parenting...my husband goes to the end of the earth...ok, you got me, the end of our province...the top end...where internet is a concept and cell towers are tree tops...and communication is zilch...

Some people think it is difficult and, at first, it is...not having that extra set of hands but who am I kidding, he is never home even when he is here (he is, after all, an incredibly "important" person) and i  have gotten into a groove of sorts. Now I am "used" to his being gone (I enjoy the break) but find that the biggest hindrance for the kids and I is I need to be cloned...studying, basketball games, drum lessons, work, cleaning, cooking meals...I need a clone.....Ha ha ha

Thankfully, my children are old enough to help with throwing a load of laundry in and folding it...it may not be folded the way I would do it but it is folded and they have helped and that, my friends, is what is important to me. They are not limited to helping out with laundry...that was just an example that was in the forefront of my brain given that I have a mini mount laundruvious in the midst of activation in my basement as I type.

Having a meal plan has helped - only a lot...and I do admit to the Tuesday work until 4 pm, basketball game until 5 pm, drum lessons at 6:30 pm McDonalds run for supper...I am not ashamed...there is no 'S' on my chest...weeks that B.D. is gone we tend to eat a lot of things like grilled cheese, tomato soup, toads-in-a-hole...

But do you know what has really helped...not expecting as much...I have lowered my expectations...If we go to bed at night and there is still a growling mess in the kitchen I have learned to be ok with that...it will be cleaned when we get home the next day or in the morning before school/work...

The biggest thing though is the kids and I work together...we will routinely have mini meetings to say "ok, this is what needs done and by when and how are we breaking this up?". We also make sure that we make time to just have snuggle time with each other. I know it is hard on my kids when their dad is gone...extra snuggle time eases that burden for them ever so slightly...

Anyway, these are simply the ramblings of a married single-mom for today...

Pat Dry

I love funny stories...and I know you do as well. I am breaking my silence with my regularly irregular post as of late (not much longer and I will be done school and things may get a little more regular around here) but I digress...You DO NOT want to miss reading this pre-teen antedote.

Last night Jellybean was getting ready for bed and was washing her face with her cleanser. I, in my bedroom, heard a strange slapping noise and poked my head out to explore the noise further. Much to the amusement of my ticklish funny bone, I saw Jellybean slapping her checks.

A strange look graced my face and I asked her with bewilderment why on earth she was not using the towel that hung upon the towel rack a mere two feet away. She quizically looked at me and replied, grabbing her jar of cleanser to show me, "Mom, it says right here to pat dry..."

Dear Lord, I have not laughed that hard in a long time; in fact, I fell to my knees, gasping for breath, struggling to finally spit out why I was laughing. When Jellybean heard why she responded herself in a way much similar to mine...

This is wedding story material...for certain.