All I could do when I awoke Friday morning to the images unfolding in front of me on the news of a tragedy worlds away was to hold my family close and pray that those in the affected area will make it out safe. For those that are not able to survive I prayed that their passing was quick and that they found peace with their maker. I prayed that the loved ones left behind both near and far would be able to find the answers they need to stop the cruel wait of wondering and searching. That they can find some kind of calm in knowing what happened. For those that are trapped, awaiting assistance, I prayed that their rescuers move swiftly and safely. I prayed for anyone, everyone, that were experiencing the far reaching tragedy of these events.
Showing posts with label blogosphere. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogosphere. Show all posts
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
License to cry....
Sometimes I have to stop and ask myself, when did she grow up to be this beautiful young self-assured young woman who is responsible enough to be driving my vehicle? Answer to that would probably be....right under your depressive nose you crazy loon! But that would totally kill the moment.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Beware of unsolicted advice and the people that dispense it.....you've been warned!
Don't you love it when random people feel the need to push their agenda's, life lessons, insights into what they think you may be experiencing in the world at that moment in lane #5 of Wal-Mart on a Tuesday??
Friday, December 31, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Deep breath....now open your eyes
It's the eve of 6 months of the wildest ride of my life. Cancer.
Here I thought I'd gotten past the madness which was life as a teenage mother, then mother of two girls and the business that is marriage. No one...not even me the eternal worrier made plans for fighting for my life.
I went from thinking I was sick with mono and having my biggest worry be making sure I was able to get back to work on May 3rd to wondering how I'd make it through my first round of chemotherapy and the life that I intensely prayed would follow. I really contemplated whether I had the drive to get from behind it and be able to have a life. Any kind of life. I was willing to rewrite "normal" as long as it meant me still in the equation.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Balancing act....
I know that it has been awhile since I have posted and although I had lamented in the past that there really is no good reason not to write, this time I think I should get a pass.
On Tuesday, April 27th I was diagnosed with Leukemia and things have been going at a maddening pace since then.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Diary of an Aggitated Mother...
Wednesday may actually be one of my favorite days. It is my day off. Who doesn't love those??
Get to sleep in.
Spend a little one on one time with my baby girl Hannah (since my oldest is spending the week with her dad in Florida).
And just relax in general.
No where in my planning did I expect to have to be subjected to 45 minutes of what I can only call "slurp torture".
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
My AH-mazing Trip to FL: Part 4 (the part where I explain driving 635 miles away from Mardi Gras to attend Mardi Gras and oh, yeah...the goodbye's)
"I love that your idea of morning and my idea of morning are the EXACT same thing."
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
My AH-Mazing Trip to FL - Part 3 (I'm "fair"ly certain that this was fun and my meeting with you "can be my Doug")
"Must find french fries...it's my only means of survival."
Saturday, February 20, 2010
My AH-Mazing FL Trip - Part 1 (aka...the first 24hrs)
Life is crazy sometimes. My life, well it is crazy all the time. There are 24hrs in a day...7 days in a week and 365 days in a year...all of them, for me...for the most part are C-R-A-Z-Y! Not "crazy busy" or "crazy hectic" but "holy shit is this really happening right now" kind of craziness.
So what is one to do when life is just coming down on ya and you need to get your bearings?? Well, if you're me...you plan a trip back home. I had gone back and forth with the idea for awhile but then the opportunity presented itself along with free lodging and a LONG break from the new job (God bless you Louisiana and your Mardi Gras lovin self) so it was time to hit the road, literally, and make the drive down to my hometown of Clearwater, FL.
"Who packs the night before and forgets their friggin camera???"
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Excuse me Sean Payton...where's my Thank You?!?
In case you've been living under a rock or in a cave or been in a coma or in a long standing depressive state with days on end spent wrapped in your comforter you may not have heard that.....THE NEW ORLEANS SAINTS ARE SUPER BOWL CHAMPIONS!
Now what you or even the most die hard Saints fan may not be aware of is that while Drew Brees was crowned MVP, it is I...yes, me...that should be getting some of that Who Dat love. Yep. You read that right. While those boys in Black and Gold busted butt out on the field game after game I was also playing a very cunning and instrumental part in their journey to Super Bowl stardom.
What was this amazing contribution you ask?
Well...I was sleeping.
Yep, sleeping. Every time they hit the field for a game I would curl up, turn off the television...shut down the Facebook and slip into a Saints game day slumber. After every snooze I would get the news that they won.
As the wins were racked up so were my times of napping. But then I started realizing that there were other things that I could being doing while the game was on. So I'd run errands, talk to friends, play on the computer or find other things to occupy my time. On those occasions....the Saints lost.
When they play-off's came around I had a conversation with Jon and a few of my die hard Saint fan friends. Everyone except for one of my very close girlfriends seemed to think my superstitious ritual was ridiculous and that whether I was awake or asleep would pose no bearing on the outcome. But I decided to keep to my ritual. Then it was the game against the Vikings. The Saints were winning and I woke up hungry. I made my way to the kitchen to get something to eat and meandered around the house a bit doing this or that. The Saints began to fall behind in the score.
It was then that Jon turned to me and said "maybe you should go lay back down". I wanted to say "I told you so" but decided I wasn't in the mood to argue and made my way back to lay down. I was awakened a little while later by Hannah screaming "Mom...MOM wake up...we won. The Saints won. They are going to the Super Bowl".
The next thing I know Jon was making sure that I knew that I'd need to be asleep for the Super Bowl and then I started getting text and Facebook messages from my friends that knew my ritual telling me that I needed to nap on the day of the big game. So the days ticked by and the whole city was in preparations for the Super Bowl.
I received several invites to watch the game but turned them all down. I even received an invite from one of my best friends who was having a birthday/Super Bowl party and I politely told her that while I wouldn't come over for the game I'd be sure to come as soon as it was over and celebrate her birthday.
The weekend of the Pro Bowl my friend Marianne cornered me and begged for me to come to the party since it was for her birthday. I felt torn. While I want to make her happy, especially for her birthday, I was not going to be held responsible for the consequences should the Saints lose and I'd be awake.
The next thing I know arrangements are being made for me to have a bed at the house of my friends that were hosting the birthday/Super Bowl party. When the day of the game rolled around we gathered with friends out in the streets of Slidell to watch the krewe of Dionysis roll for their annual Mardi Gras parade.
At 4:30p I showed up with family in tow, sporting p.j.'s, fuzzy pink slippers and toting my pillow and ear plugs in order to take my ritualistic nap.
When I made my way into the house you would have thought that I had been the one to score the game winning touchdown because people were hugging me and saying "thanks for sleeping". It was hysterical. The party went on for another few hours with singing and birthday cake for the birthday girl, Marianne and the birthday boy, Joe. And every so often someone would walk up and hug me or just say again how much they appreciated that I slept.
Mar came up to me and told me that she had told everyone at the party that if the Saints won she would let them "motorboat" her ample bosom. I laughed because we constantly quote "Wedding Crashers" and then asked her how many people took her up on her offer. She said she had announced it early on in the game and in the excitement she thought everyone must have forgotten. I then said, "well since I'm partly responsible for this win...I think I should DEFINITELY get to motorboat ya"....
I bet that's something that Sean Payton or Drew Brees, Jeremy Shockey or even Reggie Bush (well unless Kim Kardashian was offering up this service to the team) got to be a part of.
But as the team made their way home and met their throngs of fans at the airport and Drew took the ceremonial "I've just won the Super Bowl, so I'm going to Disney World" trip and made the circuit of talk shows and then the "Dat Tuesday" parade took place with 800,000 attendee's it became increasingly clear that the Saints weren't gonna throw any of their love my way and are hell bent on acting as if this win was ALL them.
Hmph...those unappreciative bastards!! See if I offer up this "assistance" next season!!
I guess we will just have to wait and see how they are feeling when it's time to take the field later this year. Maybe then Sean Payton will be calling up his secret weapon.
I'll be waiting.
Comforter at the ready.
And if they come to their senses and want to acknowledge my role in this years win....my first name is spelled J-E-S-S-I-C-A and the last name is P-E-T-T-U-S, you can find my address in the phone book and "gift's" less than $10,000 don't have to be reported to the IRS and I will take shoes in lieu of money...just sayin!
~JP
Now what you or even the most die hard Saints fan may not be aware of is that while Drew Brees was crowned MVP, it is I...yes, me...that should be getting some of that Who Dat love. Yep. You read that right. While those boys in Black and Gold busted butt out on the field game after game I was also playing a very cunning and instrumental part in their journey to Super Bowl stardom.
What was this amazing contribution you ask?
Well...I was sleeping.
Yep, sleeping. Every time they hit the field for a game I would curl up, turn off the television...shut down the Facebook and slip into a Saints game day slumber. After every snooze I would get the news that they won.
As the wins were racked up so were my times of napping. But then I started realizing that there were other things that I could being doing while the game was on. So I'd run errands, talk to friends, play on the computer or find other things to occupy my time. On those occasions....the Saints lost.
When they play-off's came around I had a conversation with Jon and a few of my die hard Saint fan friends. Everyone except for one of my very close girlfriends seemed to think my superstitious ritual was ridiculous and that whether I was awake or asleep would pose no bearing on the outcome. But I decided to keep to my ritual. Then it was the game against the Vikings. The Saints were winning and I woke up hungry. I made my way to the kitchen to get something to eat and meandered around the house a bit doing this or that. The Saints began to fall behind in the score.
It was then that Jon turned to me and said "maybe you should go lay back down". I wanted to say "I told you so" but decided I wasn't in the mood to argue and made my way back to lay down. I was awakened a little while later by Hannah screaming "Mom...MOM wake up...we won. The Saints won. They are going to the Super Bowl".
The next thing I know Jon was making sure that I knew that I'd need to be asleep for the Super Bowl and then I started getting text and Facebook messages from my friends that knew my ritual telling me that I needed to nap on the day of the big game. So the days ticked by and the whole city was in preparations for the Super Bowl.
I received several invites to watch the game but turned them all down. I even received an invite from one of my best friends who was having a birthday/Super Bowl party and I politely told her that while I wouldn't come over for the game I'd be sure to come as soon as it was over and celebrate her birthday.
The weekend of the Pro Bowl my friend Marianne cornered me and begged for me to come to the party since it was for her birthday. I felt torn. While I want to make her happy, especially for her birthday, I was not going to be held responsible for the consequences should the Saints lose and I'd be awake.
The next thing I know arrangements are being made for me to have a bed at the house of my friends that were hosting the birthday/Super Bowl party. When the day of the game rolled around we gathered with friends out in the streets of Slidell to watch the krewe of Dionysis roll for their annual Mardi Gras parade.
The TPD Crew ~ Mar, Stacy & Me
Me and my ceremonial sleepwear. I'm pretty sure my kids hate me for wearing this in public.
The cup contains a margarita and is labeled "Sleepytime Juice".
As I walked into the party I was met with an equal number of appreciative and "what the hell is that person wearing" gazes. I didn't care what anyone thought once I saw my crew of girls...
Me, Stacy, Mar, Lynne & Allison (this group is affectionately named the Wine & Nerds club)
...their greetings and hugs of appreciation for me ACTUALLY agreeing to come over and sleep through the Super Bowl was amazing. Once I said my hello's I made my way up to Lynne's youngest daughters room and settled in to fall asleep. The one thing I had not planned on was the DJ and the karaoke machine that would be on. I managed to tune everything out and fall asleep for a good while but woke suddenly when a kid or a few of them slammed into a wall outside the room I was in and then I couldn't fall back to sleep with the extremely loud sound of the music from outside.
I sent a text to Jon to see what the score was and found out that the Saints were leading. Then within the few minutes I was awake the Colts managed to take the lead. I made a split decision and told Jon that I was gonna make a break for it and head home to my own bed. I slipped out of the house and headed home to my comfy bed and quiet house. As I snuggled down I got the text that the Saints had taken back the lead and then I drifted off to sleep again.
Finally, Olivia came in to say that the Saints had won and that she would really like a McFlurry. I loaded up the car with myself, Olivia and her friend Em and took them to McDonald's before heading back to be part of the post game celebration.
Mar came up to me and told me that she had told everyone at the party that if the Saints won she would let them "motorboat" her ample bosom. I laughed because we constantly quote "Wedding Crashers" and then asked her how many people took her up on her offer. She said she had announced it early on in the game and in the excitement she thought everyone must have forgotten. I then said, "well since I'm partly responsible for this win...I think I should DEFINITELY get to motorboat ya"....
What can I say except...they aren't built for speed...
...they are DEFINITELY built for comfort!
I bet that's something that Sean Payton or Drew Brees, Jeremy Shockey or even Reggie Bush (well unless Kim Kardashian was offering up this service to the team) got to be a part of.
But as the team made their way home and met their throngs of fans at the airport and Drew took the ceremonial "I've just won the Super Bowl, so I'm going to Disney World" trip and made the circuit of talk shows and then the "Dat Tuesday" parade took place with 800,000 attendee's it became increasingly clear that the Saints weren't gonna throw any of their love my way and are hell bent on acting as if this win was ALL them.
Hmph...those unappreciative bastards!! See if I offer up this "assistance" next season!!
I guess we will just have to wait and see how they are feeling when it's time to take the field later this year. Maybe then Sean Payton will be calling up his secret weapon.
I'll be waiting.
Comforter at the ready.
And if they come to their senses and want to acknowledge my role in this years win....my first name is spelled J-E-S-S-I-C-A and the last name is P-E-T-T-U-S, you can find my address in the phone book and "gift's" less than $10,000 don't have to be reported to the IRS and I will take shoes in lieu of money...just sayin!
~JP
Help....I've been sucked into the responsible anti-social vortex commonly known as "having a job"!
I'm sorry I haven't written lately. It hasn't been for lack of interesting or funny shit happening my life. Quite the contrary really.
I've finally emerged from the oblivion known as "being wrapped in the depressive cocoon of my comforter" and hit the ground running. I am finally and thankfully gainfully employed. After months of looking, interviewing, getting a job, losing the job to RIDICULOUS circumstances (seriously, when a new employee points out your MULTIPLE insurance and HIPAA violations....ummm, yeah you may wanna heed that warning before the Insurance Commissioner comes a knockin) then interviewing again and being passed over because I am "too personable". A full 6 months, dozen plus interviews and over 162 resumes sent I have landed a job that I didn't even know existed and was referred to by an employer that I was applying for. She said I'd be perfect for the position that another office had just mentioned they were looking to fill for an individual that was moving out of state after 10yrs of service with their practice. Turns out her intuition was fabulous because after one interview that lasted 3 1/2 hours, two separate observations and a working interview I was offered the position of Hygiene Coordinator for a local dental practice.
My days of sleeping, crying and farming (on FarmVille) have ceased and while I'm happy for the steady paycheck and reason to put on pants I am finding that all this "work" is leaving me little time to write or just watch endless hours of Lifetime television. It's a tough life I lead people.
My kids are even bitching a bit because alas, their schedules aren't of the utmost importance in my day. Their second complaint is that since returning to work my energy level has skyrocketed and thus I am on their asses every ten seconds about why they haven't picked up this or that and why they can't just "take care of it now" and "not 10 flippin minutes from now". This statement is usually followed by mass amounts of eye rolling and serious attitude.
It's a magical time being the parent to a tween and a teen. Sometimes I wonder if the Prozac will ever mellow me to the point of not wanting to beat the tar out of these two when they mount the attitude express on an hourly basis. All I can think is that I need to bask in this time period now before Hannah hits puberty and I'm flanked by two raging hormonal beings. When that day arrives I am going to go straight to my doctor and demand a monthly revolving prescription of Xanax that will need to be taken until they both no longer reside in my home.
For now I will just keep my focus on my new job and all the fun that will be had. That was sarcasm by the way....
~JP
I've finally emerged from the oblivion known as "being wrapped in the depressive cocoon of my comforter" and hit the ground running. I am finally and thankfully gainfully employed. After months of looking, interviewing, getting a job, losing the job to RIDICULOUS circumstances (seriously, when a new employee points out your MULTIPLE insurance and HIPAA violations....ummm, yeah you may wanna heed that warning before the Insurance Commissioner comes a knockin) then interviewing again and being passed over because I am "too personable". A full 6 months, dozen plus interviews and over 162 resumes sent I have landed a job that I didn't even know existed and was referred to by an employer that I was applying for. She said I'd be perfect for the position that another office had just mentioned they were looking to fill for an individual that was moving out of state after 10yrs of service with their practice. Turns out her intuition was fabulous because after one interview that lasted 3 1/2 hours, two separate observations and a working interview I was offered the position of Hygiene Coordinator for a local dental practice.
My days of sleeping, crying and farming (on FarmVille) have ceased and while I'm happy for the steady paycheck and reason to put on pants I am finding that all this "work" is leaving me little time to write or just watch endless hours of Lifetime television. It's a tough life I lead people.
My kids are even bitching a bit because alas, their schedules aren't of the utmost importance in my day. Their second complaint is that since returning to work my energy level has skyrocketed and thus I am on their asses every ten seconds about why they haven't picked up this or that and why they can't just "take care of it now" and "not 10 flippin minutes from now". This statement is usually followed by mass amounts of eye rolling and serious attitude.
It's a magical time being the parent to a tween and a teen. Sometimes I wonder if the Prozac will ever mellow me to the point of not wanting to beat the tar out of these two when they mount the attitude express on an hourly basis. All I can think is that I need to bask in this time period now before Hannah hits puberty and I'm flanked by two raging hormonal beings. When that day arrives I am going to go straight to my doctor and demand a monthly revolving prescription of Xanax that will need to be taken until they both no longer reside in my home.
For now I will just keep my focus on my new job and all the fun that will be had. That was sarcasm by the way....
~JP
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Not by the hair on my double chiney chin chin...
Okay...now mother nature is just being fucking cruel. Is it not enough that I am dealing with the ever present possible demise of my marriage? But now I have to be reminded of my ever present age. That is just TOO DAMN CRUEL! So, I tried to go to sleep but of course insomnia was just too much of a bitch to let that one slip by her. I laid there for a good hour before I finally gave up and retreated to the couch to take in "Dancing With the Stars" via DVR. I stepped into the bathroom to piddle one more time before retreating to the couch because alas two kids and multiple surgeries in my Southern nether regions has put a tax on my bladder and THEN....there is where it became ever present that my double chin was NOT alone.
At first I thought "damn, not another zit" seriously I'm in my 30's people when will puberty end? Must I really give into the ads for the Pro-Active face wash that Jessica Simpson is pushing at 2 o'clock in the morning. But upon further inspection I found the actual culprit for the raised bump on my chin was the EVIL chin hair. Must we really be dealing with this RIGHT NOW!?! Really RIGHT NOW?!? My marriage is hanging by a thin, thin....did I mention THIN thread. Yep...I put it out there and still the chin hair is there. Right there. Front and center. Life is so frickin cruel like that.
Thank you Mother Nature for reminding me that while I think I have found the true reason to focus my attention on you have found your own cruel way to focus my attention on very superficial yet yucky things. GREAT...just when I had scoffed at waxing...now I've got to go work on my chin region. Damn you Mother Nature....DAMN YOU TO HELL!!!!
~JP
At first I thought "damn, not another zit" seriously I'm in my 30's people when will puberty end? Must I really give into the ads for the Pro-Active face wash that Jessica Simpson is pushing at 2 o'clock in the morning. But upon further inspection I found the actual culprit for the raised bump on my chin was the EVIL chin hair. Must we really be dealing with this RIGHT NOW!?! Really RIGHT NOW?!? My marriage is hanging by a thin, thin....did I mention THIN thread. Yep...I put it out there and still the chin hair is there. Right there. Front and center. Life is so frickin cruel like that.
Thank you Mother Nature for reminding me that while I think I have found the true reason to focus my attention on you have found your own cruel way to focus my attention on very superficial yet yucky things. GREAT...just when I had scoffed at waxing...now I've got to go work on my chin region. Damn you Mother Nature....DAMN YOU TO HELL!!!!
~JP
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Lowering expectations in an attempt to lessen dissappointment...
Ok. I've decided I need to make a new plan. The old plan which has been revised a million few times over the past 3+ years ISN'T WORKING! I had formulated this plan when I found out that Jon had basically sold our marriage down the river in an attempt to prove a point about how...oh, fuck...I have no idea what the hell he was trying to do but lets just say we went from happily married to spending close to $10,000 in therapy. You figure out what that means. Oh, and when you do...please email me.
Anyways, I amDEFINITELY almost pretty sure that the reason the original plan didn't work is because of user error and not a fault in the actual plan. I mean seriously...how could a plan that started out with the words "hibernate for 7 straight days living off of only Hagaan Daaz and peanut butter toast"....possibly have turned out so poorly?
I swear, please remind me never to write a mission statement because CLEARLY I am not able to inspire anything more than a 3 year downslide of emotions, confidence and the ability to actually tell the difference between the top and bottom half of my body. Seriously people...I SWEAR I had a waist. It was just here, like....okay...so it's been awhile but I have pictures...it did exist!
I went and took a walk tonight at the park and seriously contemplated jumping over the safety railing and into the bayou. But if it didn't result in serious bodily harm by being eaten by ravenous crocs that were just waiting for a fatty to hurl herself over the rail...all I'd have to show for my failed attempt to "end the madness" would be a short swim in freezing water followed by a walk of shame and possibly pneumonia and or flesh eating bacteria.
And thus the cycle of mediocrity would continue.
So instead of taking the deep six I decided to bring it on home, sipping a chai and lay here in my comfy bed contemplating the meaning of my life. I had just about resigned myself to the idea that I would make it to sleep before midnight when my hacking teenager comes strolling in talking so loud that our next door neighbors could have heard her conversation clear as a bell. It pissed me off to no end. Not only did my "plan" become an epic failure now my children have decided that they no longer need rules and can come and go in the house as they please, making their own bedtimes and having no regard for the fact that people have jobs that they need to get a goodnight's sleep in order to be at peak performance. I mean, I am totally NOT talking about me because once again I fall into the unemployed and complete failure category. But there is still Jon for us to hang our families hopes and financial dreams on.
Do you see why maybe I should REVISE the original plan to oh, I don't know...start with the words "be gainfully employed individual who sets and enforces rules and boundaries"??
But even that line seems as though I am aiming to high. Maybe I should focus on keeping my expectations low therefore ensuring that the possibility of dissappointment is less likely. Instead of stating that I will go to the gym 5 days a week, I should instead say that I will make a definite effort to walk to my mailbox to retrieve the mail. Lower expectation...better chance of success.
I think I will sleep on this and see what other winning suggestions I can come up with. It's a lot of pressure...I hope I don't crack.
~JP
Anyways, I am
I swear, please remind me never to write a mission statement because CLEARLY I am not able to inspire anything more than a 3 year downslide of emotions, confidence and the ability to actually tell the difference between the top and bottom half of my body. Seriously people...I SWEAR I had a waist. It was just here, like....okay...so it's been awhile but I have pictures...it did exist!
I went and took a walk tonight at the park and seriously contemplated jumping over the safety railing and into the bayou. But if it didn't result in serious bodily harm by being eaten by ravenous crocs that were just waiting for a fatty to hurl herself over the rail...all I'd have to show for my failed attempt to "end the madness" would be a short swim in freezing water followed by a walk of shame and possibly pneumonia and or flesh eating bacteria.
And thus the cycle of mediocrity would continue.
So instead of taking the deep six I decided to bring it on home, sipping a chai and lay here in my comfy bed contemplating the meaning of my life. I had just about resigned myself to the idea that I would make it to sleep before midnight when my hacking teenager comes strolling in talking so loud that our next door neighbors could have heard her conversation clear as a bell. It pissed me off to no end. Not only did my "plan" become an epic failure now my children have decided that they no longer need rules and can come and go in the house as they please, making their own bedtimes and having no regard for the fact that people have jobs that they need to get a goodnight's sleep in order to be at peak performance. I mean, I am totally NOT talking about me because once again I fall into the unemployed and complete failure category. But there is still Jon for us to hang our families hopes and financial dreams on.
Do you see why maybe I should REVISE the original plan to oh, I don't know...start with the words "be gainfully employed individual who sets and enforces rules and boundaries"??
But even that line seems as though I am aiming to high. Maybe I should focus on keeping my expectations low therefore ensuring that the possibility of dissappointment is less likely. Instead of stating that I will go to the gym 5 days a week, I should instead say that I will make a definite effort to walk to my mailbox to retrieve the mail. Lower expectation...better chance of success.
I think I will sleep on this and see what other winning suggestions I can come up with. It's a lot of pressure...I hope I don't crack.
~JP
Monday, November 2, 2009
Maybe it's time to rewrite the traditional fairytale.....
Once upon a time.....isn't that how they always suck you in?
Well this ain't no fairytale. That's for damn sure.
Back when I was younger the only thing that I seemed to want was to be part of a two some. A couple. I probably should have been a twin. That fact would have more than likely resulted in my mother going crazy faster than she actually has.
It seemed from birth I was just one of those individuals that flourished in an environment where I could be with someone else. My mom probably fostered this by allowing me to sleep in her bed until I was a toddler. Then while she was a single parent we almost always shared a room. That continued until I was 11 years old and she married my step-dad. I had my own room for a whole 7 months. Then came my first sister and then my second sister a mere 15 months later. I shared a room with them until I visualized smothering them both in my sleep. My parents realized teenage-dom was upon them and I evicted myself from the co-op bedroom and out to my own space. Sadly it was the front porch. I mean what can you expect when you are living in a 2 bedroom house with 5 people, 2 of which are a screaming baby and toddler respectively.
The "porch" as it was named was actually the standard Florida "sun room". So it was completely enclosed. The stupid part of my move was the fact that my room was the first thing that people saw and had to walk through when they came to my parents house. Let's just say I had the cleanest teenagers room EVER!
It was also one way to insure that your teenage daughter doesn't do anything inappropriate with any boys in her bedroom. There are times that I wish we had this same arrangement now that I have older daughters. But then I take a stroll into their rooms and realize that if we did have that set up we could never have anyone over. They'd never make it through the sea of crap in order to make it into the rest of the house for a visit.
But enough about my bedroom from age 12 to 14 years of age. After the death of my sister Alicia I would go and lay in bed with my baby sister Nicolle in order to soothe her. From the day she was born she had shared a room with both me and Alicia and then just Alicia and now she was alone. So I'd lay with her. Then just a few short years later I had a little one of my own to occupy my bed.
It wasn't just sleeping either. It was life in general. I don't think I was ever meant to be a singleton. At a young age I befriended a neighbor and we became the best of friends. From the age of 3 up until 16, I don't think there is one good memory of my life that doesn't include her. We were like two peas in a pod and I liked it just fine.
After friendships came dating. I always seemed to be happier when I was part of a couple. I'm beginning to see that there is a pattern of confidence issues. So now 12 years into the longest pairing I've had since the birth of my first child I am lost in the fact that we are taught young that every fairytale is all roses and fairies and pumpkins turning into carriages. Outside of the mother's being audibly missing out of almost EVERY Disney story for as long as I can remember just about ever story of falling love has no mention of depression, finances, liars and heartbreak. Yeah they may start out realistic with the orphans and the working in your own home for your evil step-mother but then you are whisked away and have rodents to do your housework. That's a step up in my books. Not reality and yet we eat it up and ask for seconds.
Now I sit pondering the last few years of my life and as I think about the ever changing dimensions of my coupledom I wonder if my inability to stand on my own two feet and worry about what I want and what I need has possibly left me contemplating how a lifetime of being part of a two some has made it next to impossible for me to think of just myself. Alone.
As a mother I can never truly be alone. Hell just trying to pee is a friggin affair. If I don't announce it I will undoubtedly have a knock, a random walk in or an all out search and rescue mounted if I don't answer when yelled to from another room. I'm in the bathroom. I'm taking a piss. LEAVE ME ALONE! Sadly I feel I should mention that my kids are 15 and 10. They are walking, talking, thinking, able to make toast and not burn down the house, wipe their own ass, tie their own shoes and probably do more on a computer than I ever care to know how to do...individuals. But the second a drop of my piss hits the toilet water....they become so unbelievably needy. It's a curse of motherhood throughout the world. No matter what their age....from infants to adults....you go to cop a squat and they are on you like white on rice!
Every decision that I have made since my children's conception has been with them in mind. Whether it be at the forefront or in the back of my mind, I try to keep them ever present in everything I choose to do. Sometimes I wonder if never taking a step back and making a choice solely based on what I would like, enjoy, want or so forth has been the best mode of thinking. Then add in the partnership of marriage and suddenly I find myself farther down the pole of priorties.
Even when I try to make what I deem to be a semi-selfish decision I find myself second guessing it and wondering how it will affect the ones I love most. Never once thinking about how I should be loving myself which would in turn allow me to be a better _________ (fill in the blank with title) to __________ (fill in the blank with recipient). Yet out of selfless decisions comes pretty selfish children and at times a selfish husband. How I have managed this...I still am not sure. I know that I cannot control Jon's mindset or behavior, but my kids... it is the age, for the most part, but sometimes you just wonder....if Mother Teresa would have had kids...would they have been selfless saints as well?? Hmmmmmm.......
Here was my attempt at doing something just for me tonight. I left the house to go take a walk at a local park and then decided to stop for a some chai tea on the way back to the house to warm me up. Now I am sitting here thinking there were probably at least 10 other things that I could've/should've done in that 45 minutes and with the $5 that I just spent. This line of thought then leads me to going out last night with a girlfriend of mine to VooDoo Fest. I haven't been out like this since....hmmmm....April. The tickets were free. Parking was free. And yet I feel like an ass for not including my family.
It's borderline ridiculous. Where is the pill that turns off the "over caring about every little miniscule detail of every second of my day and what I am doing with it and how it may possibly be affecting those around me"?
Where's the fairytale about the princess that falls madly in love with her prince and then he does something ridiculously stupid and leaves her in a depressive tail spin without any dwarf's or magic fairy godmother to snap her out of it?? Where's that story?
I think I shall write it.....right after I stop feeling guilty for sitting back here on my laptop and not being out in the living room with my kids who are glued to one or another multi media device.
~JP
Well this ain't no fairytale. That's for damn sure.
Back when I was younger the only thing that I seemed to want was to be part of a two some. A couple. I probably should have been a twin. That fact would have more than likely resulted in my mother going crazy faster than she actually has.
It seemed from birth I was just one of those individuals that flourished in an environment where I could be with someone else. My mom probably fostered this by allowing me to sleep in her bed until I was a toddler. Then while she was a single parent we almost always shared a room. That continued until I was 11 years old and she married my step-dad. I had my own room for a whole 7 months. Then came my first sister and then my second sister a mere 15 months later. I shared a room with them until I visualized smothering them both in my sleep. My parents realized teenage-dom was upon them and I evicted myself from the co-op bedroom and out to my own space. Sadly it was the front porch. I mean what can you expect when you are living in a 2 bedroom house with 5 people, 2 of which are a screaming baby and toddler respectively.
The "porch" as it was named was actually the standard Florida "sun room". So it was completely enclosed. The stupid part of my move was the fact that my room was the first thing that people saw and had to walk through when they came to my parents house. Let's just say I had the cleanest teenagers room EVER!
It was also one way to insure that your teenage daughter doesn't do anything inappropriate with any boys in her bedroom. There are times that I wish we had this same arrangement now that I have older daughters. But then I take a stroll into their rooms and realize that if we did have that set up we could never have anyone over. They'd never make it through the sea of crap in order to make it into the rest of the house for a visit.
But enough about my bedroom from age 12 to 14 years of age. After the death of my sister Alicia I would go and lay in bed with my baby sister Nicolle in order to soothe her. From the day she was born she had shared a room with both me and Alicia and then just Alicia and now she was alone. So I'd lay with her. Then just a few short years later I had a little one of my own to occupy my bed.
It wasn't just sleeping either. It was life in general. I don't think I was ever meant to be a singleton. At a young age I befriended a neighbor and we became the best of friends. From the age of 3 up until 16, I don't think there is one good memory of my life that doesn't include her. We were like two peas in a pod and I liked it just fine.
After friendships came dating. I always seemed to be happier when I was part of a couple. I'm beginning to see that there is a pattern of confidence issues. So now 12 years into the longest pairing I've had since the birth of my first child I am lost in the fact that we are taught young that every fairytale is all roses and fairies and pumpkins turning into carriages. Outside of the mother's being audibly missing out of almost EVERY Disney story for as long as I can remember just about ever story of falling love has no mention of depression, finances, liars and heartbreak. Yeah they may start out realistic with the orphans and the working in your own home for your evil step-mother but then you are whisked away and have rodents to do your housework. That's a step up in my books. Not reality and yet we eat it up and ask for seconds.
Now I sit pondering the last few years of my life and as I think about the ever changing dimensions of my coupledom I wonder if my inability to stand on my own two feet and worry about what I want and what I need has possibly left me contemplating how a lifetime of being part of a two some has made it next to impossible for me to think of just myself. Alone.
As a mother I can never truly be alone. Hell just trying to pee is a friggin affair. If I don't announce it I will undoubtedly have a knock, a random walk in or an all out search and rescue mounted if I don't answer when yelled to from another room. I'm in the bathroom. I'm taking a piss. LEAVE ME ALONE! Sadly I feel I should mention that my kids are 15 and 10. They are walking, talking, thinking, able to make toast and not burn down the house, wipe their own ass, tie their own shoes and probably do more on a computer than I ever care to know how to do...individuals. But the second a drop of my piss hits the toilet water....they become so unbelievably needy. It's a curse of motherhood throughout the world. No matter what their age....from infants to adults....you go to cop a squat and they are on you like white on rice!
Every decision that I have made since my children's conception has been with them in mind. Whether it be at the forefront or in the back of my mind, I try to keep them ever present in everything I choose to do. Sometimes I wonder if never taking a step back and making a choice solely based on what I would like, enjoy, want or so forth has been the best mode of thinking. Then add in the partnership of marriage and suddenly I find myself farther down the pole of priorties.
Even when I try to make what I deem to be a semi-selfish decision I find myself second guessing it and wondering how it will affect the ones I love most. Never once thinking about how I should be loving myself which would in turn allow me to be a better _________ (fill in the blank with title) to __________ (fill in the blank with recipient). Yet out of selfless decisions comes pretty selfish children and at times a selfish husband. How I have managed this...I still am not sure. I know that I cannot control Jon's mindset or behavior, but my kids... it is the age, for the most part, but sometimes you just wonder....if Mother Teresa would have had kids...would they have been selfless saints as well?? Hmmmmmm.......
Here was my attempt at doing something just for me tonight. I left the house to go take a walk at a local park and then decided to stop for a some chai tea on the way back to the house to warm me up. Now I am sitting here thinking there were probably at least 10 other things that I could've/should've done in that 45 minutes and with the $5 that I just spent. This line of thought then leads me to going out last night with a girlfriend of mine to VooDoo Fest. I haven't been out like this since....hmmmm....April. The tickets were free. Parking was free. And yet I feel like an ass for not including my family.
It's borderline ridiculous. Where is the pill that turns off the "over caring about every little miniscule detail of every second of my day and what I am doing with it and how it may possibly be affecting those around me"?
Where's the fairytale about the princess that falls madly in love with her prince and then he does something ridiculously stupid and leaves her in a depressive tail spin without any dwarf's or magic fairy godmother to snap her out of it?? Where's that story?
I think I shall write it.....right after I stop feeling guilty for sitting back here on my laptop and not being out in the living room with my kids who are glued to one or another multi media device.
~JP
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
What's your gut telling you?
So life being the proverbial roller coaster that it is...has now found me back at the bottom. I've been here before. Lots of times. It's familiar territory. The other part that is familiar is the beating my stomach takes when things are going NOT so well. I'm an internalizer. I smile on the outside. Making jokes, writing funny blogs and generally trying to be light hearted when in truth my stomach is an acid volcano of stress and upset emotions. It's a downright miracle that the ulcer that was discovered a few years ago has not grown large enough to suck the rest of my body into it's vast hole. Although at times I wonder if my doctor just lied in order to keep feeding me medications because he gets a kick back from the drug companies. It's all a conspiracy when it comes to the health care industry.
But back to me...and my gut. On top of being a rumbly, achy, keeping me in the bathroom more than any one normal human being should be in there...it has also begun to expand. It seems my gut doesn't want my butt to feel lonely. Isn't that nice of it? Umm. Yeah. NOT.
Tonight as Jon coaxed me out of my pity filled mock hibernation to attend a local fast food joints participation at helping our youngest daughter school raise money for the PTA, I was hit with just how out of control it's growth has become. A cute Halloween t-shirt that has seen me through the past 3 years of trick-o-treating now bears a striking resemblence to me attempting to suck my gut into a childs shirt. As if the realization that "Job, Take #2" is as failed as it was the first time around (details to follow once the investigation is complete...yes...it does sound as bad as that word "investigation" would lead you to believe) wasn't enough to stress me out, now I've got to worry about my mid section trying to take over the whole of my body. What next CANKLES? Dear Lord....why must you hate me so?
Ok...maybe it's not God. Maybe it's the fact that running my fingers longingly over the swipe card for my gym membership hasn't made me lose even an ounce of weight. Maybe, just maybe I should run my ass up to the gym and then I wouldn't be worrying about my gut so much. It sure would make for a lovely distraction from all the other shit that is going on in the world that is me.
But since I am one to procrastinate beyond any amount of reason...I think I will just ponder on this realization while I wallow in the stress of my current situation. And with that....my gut wins! For now.
~JP
But back to me...and my gut. On top of being a rumbly, achy, keeping me in the bathroom more than any one normal human being should be in there...it has also begun to expand. It seems my gut doesn't want my butt to feel lonely. Isn't that nice of it? Umm. Yeah. NOT.
Tonight as Jon coaxed me out of my pity filled mock hibernation to attend a local fast food joints participation at helping our youngest daughter school raise money for the PTA, I was hit with just how out of control it's growth has become. A cute Halloween t-shirt that has seen me through the past 3 years of trick-o-treating now bears a striking resemblence to me attempting to suck my gut into a childs shirt. As if the realization that "Job, Take #2" is as failed as it was the first time around (details to follow once the investigation is complete...yes...it does sound as bad as that word "investigation" would lead you to believe) wasn't enough to stress me out, now I've got to worry about my mid section trying to take over the whole of my body. What next CANKLES? Dear Lord....why must you hate me so?
Ok...maybe it's not God. Maybe it's the fact that running my fingers longingly over the swipe card for my gym membership hasn't made me lose even an ounce of weight. Maybe, just maybe I should run my ass up to the gym and then I wouldn't be worrying about my gut so much. It sure would make for a lovely distraction from all the other shit that is going on in the world that is me.
But since I am one to procrastinate beyond any amount of reason...I think I will just ponder on this realization while I wallow in the stress of my current situation. And with that....my gut wins! For now.
~JP
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The view through my one good eye.....
Life just keeps getting.....harder to see through both eyes. As if I don't have enough to contend with in the areas of job, love, motherhood...now I have to deal with an incessent problem of over active allergies...in my eyes! What the shit?
Last week it was a persistent issue of teary eyes that was clouding my view and now it's my left eye that seems to want to swell up at the most inconvenient of moments. Then as soon as I hit it with some eye drops I am able to buy myself a good hour or so of relief and a two eyed view on how crappy things seem to be going right now.
Funny how the view through only one eye doesn't cut down the troubles to a more manageable number. Maybe if they both swell shut then at least I can pretend to be invisible and hopefully all the bad stuff will disappear as well.
Until that becomes a reality, at least the bad stuff disappearing part, I will just have to shut both my eyes...for the night at least and hope that the view of life in my dreams is a lot happier than the reality!
~JP
Last week it was a persistent issue of teary eyes that was clouding my view and now it's my left eye that seems to want to swell up at the most inconvenient of moments. Then as soon as I hit it with some eye drops I am able to buy myself a good hour or so of relief and a two eyed view on how crappy things seem to be going right now.
Funny how the view through only one eye doesn't cut down the troubles to a more manageable number. Maybe if they both swell shut then at least I can pretend to be invisible and hopefully all the bad stuff will disappear as well.
Until that becomes a reality, at least the bad stuff disappearing part, I will just have to shut both my eyes...for the night at least and hope that the view of life in my dreams is a lot happier than the reality!
~JP
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
New job....take 2!
If only everything in life had a "do over" button that accompanied it. I know for a God's honest truth that I'd be using that button ALOT! I can think of about a dozen things I would be using it for at this exact second as I sit here typing this blog. But this entry is about my job. For those devout readers...you'll know that what I thought was going to be a wonderful change back in September turned into an utter nightmare in just 72 hours of employment. What a difference 2 1/2 weeks can make.
I originally left this job feeling that there could be a definite possibility that the insurance commissioner would come knocking on my door but now after being courted...it's been over a decade since ANYONE employer or otherwise has pursued me...I've not only taken a different perspective on this job but on my self worth. Maybe I've still got some spunk left in me.
The confidence that I thought had long been lost, surpressed or rather depressed out of me has risen up and made me take note in not only a career sense but in a personal sense as well. The way that my bosses were talking to me and then asking my honest input gave me pause. Was this really happening? Was I being "Punk'd" again?? It's not that I don't think I have merit to back up the resume I carry, but behind this funny face is a very LOW self esteem.
I've been handed more false promises in the last several months than I care to list. I've put all in on jobs in the past and I've found myself drained to the point of severe illness. I've been handed more lip service and words with no action behind them that I was beginning to feel like a school girl searching for her first love. Giving all and getting nothing in return.
Then to come in a few days later to resume my job title and see that they were actually taking heed to these points lit a fire in me that while I had realized had gone out, I had not realized would flame up so big in such a short period of time. But it hasn't been ALL seriousness with no fun. I mean really, would it be my life if there were NO humor filled rants? Nah...it wouldn't.
I've left the crazies of the dental world like the man who once called me to ask if it was "really bad that he used rubber cement to fix his denture" or the woman who threw a check at me because I stamped PAST DUE on her bill that had been unpaid for 6 months. My all time favorite would have to be the man that had a past co-worker and I high tailing it out of the office in a sheer fit of terror when he threatened to come back and get even with us for "that woman making him cry" (as he makes a tear motion down his face from his eye to his chin and talking about himself in the 3rd person).
But don't cry for me dental world. I am now thoroughly entertained by this new facet of patient care. It's not every day that you get a client that calls and cancels not one but two appointments because her cat seems "a little under the weather" and "really shouldn't be left alone". Really? REALLY?? I mean...I am a pet lover. You know this about me. You see the way I fawn on my Penny and the other dogs of the house. Hell...I write more about my 4 legged children then I do about my 2 legged kids! I've never cancelled a doctors appointment to care for my slightly under the weather pet. And "if" I have....I would never admit it. Because then ladies and gentleman...I truly would have achieved the last layer of crazy. And I was really hoping that I could avoid achieving that until I was like, oh...I don't know...80!
I can't be the crazy cat lady in my 30's....it will leave me nothing to aspire to! God...I gotta have goals people. But the crazy cat caller hasn't been my only entertainment. There is the client who had the last appointment of the day and was 10 minutes late. I called to check and see if she was on her way because our office is located on a road that is under endless construction, as so many of the roads in Louisiana are, and we've had many a client delayed because they are behind a cement truck or a pavement roller. At about 15 minutes after her appointment start time I called to check on her. She answers and tells me that she is "on the road" and "will be there in just a few minutes". I've learned that A) you never take their word and B) it's best to ask on which road they happen to be on and about how long do they estimate before they arrive. This puts the ball in their court and usually will get them to pinpoint whether they will truly be able to make it in a reasonable amount of time so that we may see them or if we need to reschedule because it will leave no time for proper treatment.
This client however was having no part of committing to anything other than entertaining me. I asked if she was on the road that leads to our office. No response...other than a giggle. I didn't know that this was a joke...but whatever. I ask about how long before she thinks she will be at the office. Again...no immediate response and then instead of a time I get...and these are the EXACT words..."don'tcha worry babe I will be there in plenty of time for them to put their hands all over me".
Ummmmmm.....long pause of extreme unwillingness to respond to that statement. I swear to you I don't work in a brothel or one of those skeezy massage parlors.
After uncomfortable pause I manage to compose this professional yet slightly stuttered response "well it's already close to 20 minutes into your appointment time and the office closes at 5p so we will need to reschedule you to a later date". She sounded dejected and I think it had a lot to do with her deflation at not being able to have "their hands all over her"....ahhhh puked in my mouth a bit....but she took the next appointment on the book.
After I got off the phone. I got up...walked away...and burst into laughter. Seriously...I never heard that in dentistry! I mean maybe when they were on nitrous...but never when I was confirming or following up on a scheduled appointment.
So now 48 hours into "new job...take #2" I am finding my groove and learning that there is crazy no matter where you go and hey...I can fit into crazy. I'm pretty sure I can be their leader...ya know, like if this job doesn't work out. Seriously I was lucky enough for take #2...there certainly can't be a 3rd, right??
~JP
I originally left this job feeling that there could be a definite possibility that the insurance commissioner would come knocking on my door but now after being courted...it's been over a decade since ANYONE employer or otherwise has pursued me...I've not only taken a different perspective on this job but on my self worth. Maybe I've still got some spunk left in me.
The confidence that I thought had long been lost, surpressed or rather depressed out of me has risen up and made me take note in not only a career sense but in a personal sense as well. The way that my bosses were talking to me and then asking my honest input gave me pause. Was this really happening? Was I being "Punk'd" again?? It's not that I don't think I have merit to back up the resume I carry, but behind this funny face is a very LOW self esteem.
I've been handed more false promises in the last several months than I care to list. I've put all in on jobs in the past and I've found myself drained to the point of severe illness. I've been handed more lip service and words with no action behind them that I was beginning to feel like a school girl searching for her first love. Giving all and getting nothing in return.
Then to come in a few days later to resume my job title and see that they were actually taking heed to these points lit a fire in me that while I had realized had gone out, I had not realized would flame up so big in such a short period of time. But it hasn't been ALL seriousness with no fun. I mean really, would it be my life if there were NO humor filled rants? Nah...it wouldn't.
I've left the crazies of the dental world like the man who once called me to ask if it was "really bad that he used rubber cement to fix his denture" or the woman who threw a check at me because I stamped PAST DUE on her bill that had been unpaid for 6 months. My all time favorite would have to be the man that had a past co-worker and I high tailing it out of the office in a sheer fit of terror when he threatened to come back and get even with us for "that woman making him cry" (as he makes a tear motion down his face from his eye to his chin and talking about himself in the 3rd person).
But don't cry for me dental world. I am now thoroughly entertained by this new facet of patient care. It's not every day that you get a client that calls and cancels not one but two appointments because her cat seems "a little under the weather" and "really shouldn't be left alone". Really? REALLY?? I mean...I am a pet lover. You know this about me. You see the way I fawn on my Penny and the other dogs of the house. Hell...I write more about my 4 legged children then I do about my 2 legged kids! I've never cancelled a doctors appointment to care for my slightly under the weather pet. And "if" I have....I would never admit it. Because then ladies and gentleman...I truly would have achieved the last layer of crazy. And I was really hoping that I could avoid achieving that until I was like, oh...I don't know...80!
I can't be the crazy cat lady in my 30's....it will leave me nothing to aspire to! God...I gotta have goals people. But the crazy cat caller hasn't been my only entertainment. There is the client who had the last appointment of the day and was 10 minutes late. I called to check and see if she was on her way because our office is located on a road that is under endless construction, as so many of the roads in Louisiana are, and we've had many a client delayed because they are behind a cement truck or a pavement roller. At about 15 minutes after her appointment start time I called to check on her. She answers and tells me that she is "on the road" and "will be there in just a few minutes". I've learned that A) you never take their word and B) it's best to ask on which road they happen to be on and about how long do they estimate before they arrive. This puts the ball in their court and usually will get them to pinpoint whether they will truly be able to make it in a reasonable amount of time so that we may see them or if we need to reschedule because it will leave no time for proper treatment.
This client however was having no part of committing to anything other than entertaining me. I asked if she was on the road that leads to our office. No response...other than a giggle. I didn't know that this was a joke...but whatever. I ask about how long before she thinks she will be at the office. Again...no immediate response and then instead of a time I get...and these are the EXACT words..."don'tcha worry babe I will be there in plenty of time for them to put their hands all over me".
Ummmmmm.....long pause of extreme unwillingness to respond to that statement. I swear to you I don't work in a brothel or one of those skeezy massage parlors.
After uncomfortable pause I manage to compose this professional yet slightly stuttered response "well it's already close to 20 minutes into your appointment time and the office closes at 5p so we will need to reschedule you to a later date". She sounded dejected and I think it had a lot to do with her deflation at not being able to have "their hands all over her"....ahhhh puked in my mouth a bit....but she took the next appointment on the book.
After I got off the phone. I got up...walked away...and burst into laughter. Seriously...I never heard that in dentistry! I mean maybe when they were on nitrous...but never when I was confirming or following up on a scheduled appointment.
So now 48 hours into "new job...take #2" I am finding my groove and learning that there is crazy no matter where you go and hey...I can fit into crazy. I'm pretty sure I can be their leader...ya know, like if this job doesn't work out. Seriously I was lucky enough for take #2...there certainly can't be a 3rd, right??
~JP
Saturday, October 10, 2009
In search of new....
Just recently my husband and I "celebrated" 12 years of being together as a couple. And by "celebrate" I mean that we had it pointed out to us by a friend of ours that it just so happened to be that day and so we kissed and toasted with the drinks we had been sipping on for the past two hours. This is what our relationship has come to. We are reduced to having our milestones pointed out to us by others. It's really pathetic if you ask me.
Another occurance was when I was driving my oldest daughter home from theater practice and she was dancing in the car to the mixed cd that she had made me in an attempt to prove that I "truly have lame taste in music". I stated how I really, really, REALLY am in need of a night out dancing. She looked sideways at me and said..."yeah, me too". I laughed and said non chalantly how in just over 3 years I can take her to 18 & up clubs and we can go dancing. She gave me that look of sheer terror and death of embarassment that would ensue if I was to truly attempt this most heinous of ideas.
Before I could even elaborate on this topic she said the most hurtful thing outside of telling me that I shouldn't be wearing these pants because YES they do truly make your ass look HUGE! She said..."in 3 years...you'll be like....ya know....O-L-D!" I tried hard not to slam on the brakes or slam her head into the dashboard. I proceeded to ask her how old she actually thought I was. She did that long hard pause that kids that fear they may never see a penny of allowance or be told yes they can do or have something that they want ever, ever....EVER again if they answer this question wrong.
People....in 3 years I will only be 35! What the shit?!? I am NOT old. I am NOT OLD! Jesus...most people are just now getting started on their childbearing years and me. I mean, us. Jon and I...we are at the half way point. This time in 10 years we will be the proud parents of two full fledge adults. This time in 10 years I will only be 42...so take that and suck on it!
But these two events coupled with some other things that have occured over the past few days, weeks, months....year...have made me realize that it's time to go in search of the newness again. I've begun to make a list. Jon teases me about these list. Mainly because I write them and then when I mess up I rewrite them. But I tend to keep the messy one just in case I forget to carry over some items and then I end up with two list. Two lists that usually never end up finished. I get accused of that a lot and rightfully so because I am SO not a start to finish kind of girl. I'm more of a get really excited about the start and lose all interest in the finish part. About the only things that I stay COMPLETELY interested in from start to finish are FarmVille, this season of Fringe and having sex with my husband. Not necessarily in that particular order. Although I have said the words "just let me check my crops" when Jon has given me that look of "let's get it on"!
Again...perfect example why it is time to find the new again. It's time to get back in tune with my body and to actually locate that body underneath all the layers of baby fat from the last baby (10 years ago) and those pints of Hagaan Daaz that have found their way maliciously into my mouth at 2am when I am depressed as all hell about the state of my life and the unhappiness that I have found myself in. It's just time.
For the past few days I've felt this overwhelming antsy feeling. This urge to just throw on my shoes and run. Run hard. Run fast. Run far. Probably wouldn't be a great idea if I actually allowed it to come to fruition. I'm pretty sure that I would make it to the end of my street and my family would find me dead or at least unconscious on the ground beneath the stop sign. Since running...and I must admit that every time I say, think or type that word...running...all I can think of is Forrest Gump saying it. "And I started running."
Anyways...since running is out of the question at this particular juncture I decided to have a little conversation with my inner self. At a little after midnight when all the house was quiet I pulled myself into first position (rockin the ballet), closed my eyes and just calmly explained that it's time to take back my life and ALL the things that I used to be so passionate about.
It's gonna be a tall order...a slow process...but a challenge that I must take on. For my sanity. For my self. I will not let another milestone go by uncelebrated or at least unremembered and I certainly will not allow my teenager or tweenager make me feel old. It's up to me to preserve the new. Game on bitches...game on!
Another occurance was when I was driving my oldest daughter home from theater practice and she was dancing in the car to the mixed cd that she had made me in an attempt to prove that I "truly have lame taste in music". I stated how I really, really, REALLY am in need of a night out dancing. She looked sideways at me and said..."yeah, me too". I laughed and said non chalantly how in just over 3 years I can take her to 18 & up clubs and we can go dancing. She gave me that look of sheer terror and death of embarassment that would ensue if I was to truly attempt this most heinous of ideas.
Before I could even elaborate on this topic she said the most hurtful thing outside of telling me that I shouldn't be wearing these pants because YES they do truly make your ass look HUGE! She said..."in 3 years...you'll be like....ya know....O-L-D!" I tried hard not to slam on the brakes or slam her head into the dashboard. I proceeded to ask her how old she actually thought I was. She did that long hard pause that kids that fear they may never see a penny of allowance or be told yes they can do or have something that they want ever, ever....EVER again if they answer this question wrong.
People....in 3 years I will only be 35! What the shit?!? I am NOT old. I am NOT OLD! Jesus...most people are just now getting started on their childbearing years and me. I mean, us. Jon and I...we are at the half way point. This time in 10 years we will be the proud parents of two full fledge adults. This time in 10 years I will only be 42...so take that and suck on it!
But these two events coupled with some other things that have occured over the past few days, weeks, months....year...have made me realize that it's time to go in search of the newness again. I've begun to make a list. Jon teases me about these list. Mainly because I write them and then when I mess up I rewrite them. But I tend to keep the messy one just in case I forget to carry over some items and then I end up with two list. Two lists that usually never end up finished. I get accused of that a lot and rightfully so because I am SO not a start to finish kind of girl. I'm more of a get really excited about the start and lose all interest in the finish part. About the only things that I stay COMPLETELY interested in from start to finish are FarmVille, this season of Fringe and having sex with my husband. Not necessarily in that particular order. Although I have said the words "just let me check my crops" when Jon has given me that look of "let's get it on"!
Again...perfect example why it is time to find the new again. It's time to get back in tune with my body and to actually locate that body underneath all the layers of baby fat from the last baby (10 years ago) and those pints of Hagaan Daaz that have found their way maliciously into my mouth at 2am when I am depressed as all hell about the state of my life and the unhappiness that I have found myself in. It's just time.
For the past few days I've felt this overwhelming antsy feeling. This urge to just throw on my shoes and run. Run hard. Run fast. Run far. Probably wouldn't be a great idea if I actually allowed it to come to fruition. I'm pretty sure that I would make it to the end of my street and my family would find me dead or at least unconscious on the ground beneath the stop sign. Since running...and I must admit that every time I say, think or type that word...running...all I can think of is Forrest Gump saying it. "And I started running."
Anyways...since running is out of the question at this particular juncture I decided to have a little conversation with my inner self. At a little after midnight when all the house was quiet I pulled myself into first position (rockin the ballet), closed my eyes and just calmly explained that it's time to take back my life and ALL the things that I used to be so passionate about.
It's gonna be a tall order...a slow process...but a challenge that I must take on. For my sanity. For my self. I will not let another milestone go by uncelebrated or at least unremembered and I certainly will not allow my teenager or tweenager make me feel old. It's up to me to preserve the new. Game on bitches...game on!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Penny's Thought of the Day....
Being back at home after just a few days back out in the work place has been both a blessing and blow to my confidence. I've relinguished my Crackberry to Penny's capable hands....ergh, I mean paws. Most of my calls are from Jon, since I haven't gotten any responses on the millions (okay 5) resumes I've turned loose in the employment world. I don't want Jon to think I'm slipping back into my depressive ways so I rely on Penny to give him other reasons as to why I won't answer my phone. I think she's doing a pretty good job so far.....
....hmmmm, guess i gotta work on some other answers for her to give him because I'm getting REALLY tired of him coming home with Imodium and Cranberry in an attempt to "help with my bathroom issues".
....ok...so she doesn't follow direction well, but at least she didn't tell him I was sleeping...or working my FarmVille farm on Facebook. But there is just one problem...she seems to have just one go to phrase for where I am or what I am doing....
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