I'd like to say that my house is quiet right now...as the clock ticks past midnight, but Jon is snoring up a storm and just barely heard over that is the sounds of Hannah watching "Tale of Desperaux" on the flat screen in the living room. For a moment I had to check and make sure she didn't have surround sound on because Jon's snoring usually drowns out the television I have playing in the same room so being able to hear one over the snoring, my t.v., through a closed door and down a hallway is pretty impressive. Turns out she didn't have it on she just had it up REALLY loud.
Instead all I found when I ventured out to be the cranky mom commenting on the "too loud" television is my baby girl snuggled down with pillows and blankets. She had asked Jon and I if she could sleep on the sofa tonight so she could watch television. Our agreement to this question marked the four dozenth time of her proclaiming..."this is the BEST Christmas ever"! I don't care who you are, if you are the parent of one or a dozen, those six words just melt your inner being and will make you relent even when you think you shouldn't.
Not that her sleeping on the couch is a huge deal....it's just that I don't get it. It truly cracks me up that once again one of our kids is so excited to sleep on the couch. I. Just. Don't. Get. It. Have I ever fallen asleep on my couch? Yes. Have I ever HAD to sleep on my couch? Yes again. Would I pick my couch over my bed if I had the choice? Hell to the no.
But my kids...LOVE sleeping on the couch. I told Jon that I think it is because right now both of the girls don't have satellite service in their room, so the couch is the only way for them to lay and watch shows. I think that now that they have cleared the destruction and clutter in their room allowing me to go in there and contact our cable provider to have them assist me in finding the problem that soon we won't have to deal with a kid sleeping on the couch. I'm hoping that this theory is true because with a hubby that snores I really like the idea of having my couch clear if I wanna escape to silence to write, read or even watch a show without having to strain to hear dialogue through his mind grating snores.
But enough about that...on Christmas Eve we let Hannah open the obligatory (in her mind) gift and she got the boots that she was so gaga over. Think the Gap commercial and the adorable little girls singing "I love my comfy sweater...I love my comfy sweater...how cute are these boots"...yep now she is the proud owner of those cute boots. She was so happy over them that she wore them to bed. Not just on her way to bed but actually into bed and slept in them. I don't think I have seen her that excited about anything since....hmmmm, I'm thinkin....ummmmm...yeah, I don't know when she's ever been this excited about a clothing item. She was excited last year over her Nintendo DS, but to my knowledge she didn't sleep with it.
That moment of adoration that follows your child opening a gift and then the beaming of enthusiasm that follows is a drug that should be bottled and kept for the moments when they leer at you and profess how you have "ruined their life" and how "you are the WORST. PARENT. EVER".
My first taste of holiday victory came yesterday when I tackled the chore of gift wrapping. Although I've spent the past six months in a life funk I did manage to get gifts wrapped Christmas Eve morning and NOT wait until the ungodly hour of midnight so I was able to just relax and get to bed at a decent hour. Of course we had a repeat of last year where Jon turned in and I was left awake to place the gifts. I don't know why we play this game anymore since the "magic" of Santa has been dispelled in our home. I'm just a teensy bit heartbroken about that but not so much so when I realize that come next year if I am not good about getting the gifts wrapped early that I won't have to stay up another few hours to make sure that the children are asleep already so I don't destroy their belief.
This morning Jon was up and at it early and then came Hannah. I, of course, was NOT a morning person but I was coaxed out of bed with coffee and then the gift opening extravaganza commenced. Gift after gift Hannah's eyes twinkled. I thought she might be disappointed at the fact that the gift count this year compared to others was visibly less but I was thrilled when after the last of the gifts were unwrapped she exclaimed that she had gotten everything that she had wanted.
Perhaps the most treasured gift of all was the fact that she had scored her beloved boots and her sister had not been given any. Just as my heart warmed with the spirit of the season I realized that the true gift that my girls seem to relish is when they get something that they believe the other may want but didn't get. I swear sibling rivalry and promoting jealousy between each other is the gift that just keeps on giving in their eyes. It wasn't an intentional move on our part but her admission as to why she seemed so happy almost made Jon and I keel over with laughter.
If I ever thought that I may be able to deny that this child was mine...this cleared up any concerns. She is my daughter through and through.
We had a little break in between when we opened gifts and when Jon's mom arrived to go have Christmas breakfast with us. Love me some Waffle House on Christmas. I should feel bad that people had to work and wait on us because I'm a lazy person who didn't want to cook for my family, but we made up for it by tipping the waitress close to 50% of our bill.
After Jon's mom left we just lazed around the house. I decided to grab a quick nap because the anxiety was getting to me. I woke up fully rested and ready to go see "Alvin & the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel". It was...hmmm...it was a kids movie. Not a breakthrough performance that will affect my life like say "The Blindside" but it did make me laugh and allowed me to watch Hannah laugh and smile.
We made our way out of the theater and went in search of dinner. After driving from one end of our city to the other we settled on Chinese. A few servings of sweet & sour chicken, pork spare ribs and fried rice later it was time to head home. Jon unfortunately has to work Saturday and Hannah was still hoping to squeeze in a board game before the dreaded bedtime.
Hannah had picked out "the Office" trivia game for us to play. For anyone who is a fan of this show...I highly recommend getting this game. We are Office obsessed so we were cracking up playing the game. Our family is one that loves trivia. We can pass hours just asking each other question after question about movies, music, etc.
I won the game (because I'm the Monica) and Jon came in 2nd which of course only means that he was the first loser. Hannah thought that observation was completely hysterical. It was a simple ending to a wonderful day. The only thing missing was Olivia.
So here I am....house semi quiet....another 364 days before we will do it all again and I wonder.....
I wonder what lays in store for me...for our family in the coming year. I wonder if this will be the year that we will actually save money ahead of time to pay for Christmas and not have to scramble at the last minute putting off a mortgage payment or other household bills. If we will shop early and wrap as we go, like we've said we would do for the past 12 years. I wonder will we be celebrating the season in one home or in between two. Will Jon and I still be a we or will it just be two single entities? Is there a career in store for me? And will I see more light in my life instead of the same darkness?
So much to think about in the coming days and so much to wonder about for the coming year. I hope this holiday season finds you enjoying the simple joys such as kids and their boots or the giggle that arises when you see yourself moving towards the finish line of a game. The world and life ahead is unsure and uncertain, it's these little serendipitous moments that keep us warm and comforted during the day to day grind.
Enjoy the wonder. Enjoy the moment. I know that I will....even if only for tonight.
~JP
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Tis the season for giving...
I have learned to keep expectations low. Maybe, for some of you that seems like a cop out. For me it is a survival mechanism. Much like my comfy bed and security bound comforter...low expectations make it possible for me to survive. Everyday brings with it really only 3 expectations.
#1 Shower.
#2 Don't kill self.
#3 Don't harm children.
Usually I only make #'s 2 and 3. But with medication and severe ridicule from family members and friends I am bound to make all 3 at least 5 out of 7 days of the week. Jon refers to these achievements as baby steps. Much like his asking me to "please clear the laundry from off of the kitchen table" earlier this week was met not with it being folded but instead shuttled into our eldest daughter (who happens to be visiting her father for the Christmas holiday) bedroom.
Ummm...I put this in the win column because he left in the morning and there was clothing in the kitchen and he came home in the evening and there was....ta da....no clothing in the kitchen. Apparently I lapsed on the part where he actually expected the clothing to get folded and ready to be put away by it's rightful owners. Whoopsie!
As much as I give Jon a hard time for his past indiscretions I cannot seem to properly put into words how it is that he manages to stay so calm with such a deeply depressed spouse. He leaves and I'm asleep. He comes home and I'm asleep.
He'll poke a head in the bedroom from time to time and asks if I've eaten. Asks if I need anything. Asks if I want to talk. He says that since I've tried to stand by him in his short coming's and the fact that one day he is COMPLETELY certain that I am going to have to care for him and wipe his ass (what an impressive and heartwarming picture to create in one's mind)...he says that because of this and his love for me he just keeps pushing along.
The kids try to wrap their minds around it all and even though I know they would give just about anything (well except their cell phones, computer, Nintendo DS, time with friends and possibly cable) to have their mom up and participating in the daily goings on of their life. I live for the little moments that the clouds of depression clears and I get a glimpse of what our life used to be like all of the time.
Today and tonight was one of those glimpses into how our life used to be everyday. Of course it wasn't a continual stream of feeling okay. It never really is anymore. I'll get moments when I am okay and then moments when I have to tuck away into the bedroom because the anxiety becomes so high that it literally feels as though it will grate apart my head. Jon has learned the signs and takes over parenting if I am in the middle of doing something with the kids.
But for the most part....today was a good day. One that defied low expectations but was made even sweeter because I really had no expectation of it at all.
I wrapped gifts and Jon cleaned. Yes...ladies...my husband cleans. Why I bitch? Who the hell knows.
Later we cooked dinner together. Some gorgeous pork tenderloin that I had been marinating with BBQ sauce, orange juice, honey and seasonings. It's super good and makes the juiciest meat! While Jon grilled I made both mashed potatos for dinner and potato soup for whenever. It was the normal rhythm of a house and it felt both foreign and comfortable in the same moment.
Feeling the opportunity to keep things light and make me laugh Jon took a hair piece that we had purchased to pretty much torture Penny with and while I diced onions and got ingredients for dinner he waited for the absolute opportune second to catch me off guard and scare the piss out of me.
I was in the fridge getting butter and just as I was about the close the door I heard him scream out, "oh my god...noooo"...I peeked up just in time to see something dark and furry flying at my head. I screamed like a little school girl. Threw down the butter that was in my hand and flew across the kitchen while batting my aledged assailant to the ground.
Turns out the "attacker" was none other than the fake hair piece and the next sound I heard was the cackling of Jon and Hannah as they celebrated the fact that their little prank had gotten me so good. All I could do was accept defeat and make my way to the bathroom because as with any good joke at my expense...I now had to pee. Thankfully I didn't pee in my pants...but it was a close one...a very, very...VERY close one.
After dinner was done and cleaned up we preheated the oven for the ceremonial making of the Christmas cookies. That was going to be all Jon and Hannah because once again the anxiousness was taking hold and it was time to excuse myself for a cooling off period. This consist of going to the bedroom and usually sitting in the quiet. Sometimes I have to actually go and take a shower to take my mind off the anxious thoughts. I used to go and run or walk when I became anxious but found that it actually prolonged the anxiety. Sucky find because for a while there it was a GREAT way to get in shape. Figure 6 or 7 anxiety attacks a day...a month or so later I'm down close to 10lbs.
Thankfully this one was quick lived and I was back in the mix within a thirty minutes. Just in time to torture the dogs and catch a few pics of Jon and Hannah's Christmas crowns.
So here is my gift to you my readers...a few pics to show you how our Christmas Eve was spent.
#1 Shower.
#2 Don't kill self.
#3 Don't harm children.
Usually I only make #'s 2 and 3. But with medication and severe ridicule from family members and friends I am bound to make all 3 at least 5 out of 7 days of the week. Jon refers to these achievements as baby steps. Much like his asking me to "please clear the laundry from off of the kitchen table" earlier this week was met not with it being folded but instead shuttled into our eldest daughter (who happens to be visiting her father for the Christmas holiday) bedroom.
Ummm...I put this in the win column because he left in the morning and there was clothing in the kitchen and he came home in the evening and there was....ta da....no clothing in the kitchen. Apparently I lapsed on the part where he actually expected the clothing to get folded and ready to be put away by it's rightful owners. Whoopsie!
As much as I give Jon a hard time for his past indiscretions I cannot seem to properly put into words how it is that he manages to stay so calm with such a deeply depressed spouse. He leaves and I'm asleep. He comes home and I'm asleep.
He'll poke a head in the bedroom from time to time and asks if I've eaten. Asks if I need anything. Asks if I want to talk. He says that since I've tried to stand by him in his short coming's and the fact that one day he is COMPLETELY certain that I am going to have to care for him and wipe his ass (what an impressive and heartwarming picture to create in one's mind)...he says that because of this and his love for me he just keeps pushing along.
The kids try to wrap their minds around it all and even though I know they would give just about anything (well except their cell phones, computer, Nintendo DS, time with friends and possibly cable) to have their mom up and participating in the daily goings on of their life. I live for the little moments that the clouds of depression clears and I get a glimpse of what our life used to be like all of the time.
Today and tonight was one of those glimpses into how our life used to be everyday. Of course it wasn't a continual stream of feeling okay. It never really is anymore. I'll get moments when I am okay and then moments when I have to tuck away into the bedroom because the anxiety becomes so high that it literally feels as though it will grate apart my head. Jon has learned the signs and takes over parenting if I am in the middle of doing something with the kids.
But for the most part....today was a good day. One that defied low expectations but was made even sweeter because I really had no expectation of it at all.
I wrapped gifts and Jon cleaned. Yes...ladies...my husband cleans. Why I bitch? Who the hell knows.
Later we cooked dinner together. Some gorgeous pork tenderloin that I had been marinating with BBQ sauce, orange juice, honey and seasonings. It's super good and makes the juiciest meat! While Jon grilled I made both mashed potatos for dinner and potato soup for whenever. It was the normal rhythm of a house and it felt both foreign and comfortable in the same moment.
Feeling the opportunity to keep things light and make me laugh Jon took a hair piece that we had purchased to pretty much torture Penny with and while I diced onions and got ingredients for dinner he waited for the absolute opportune second to catch me off guard and scare the piss out of me.
I was in the fridge getting butter and just as I was about the close the door I heard him scream out, "oh my god...noooo"...I peeked up just in time to see something dark and furry flying at my head. I screamed like a little school girl. Threw down the butter that was in my hand and flew across the kitchen while batting my aledged assailant to the ground.
Turns out the "attacker" was none other than the fake hair piece and the next sound I heard was the cackling of Jon and Hannah as they celebrated the fact that their little prank had gotten me so good. All I could do was accept defeat and make my way to the bathroom because as with any good joke at my expense...I now had to pee. Thankfully I didn't pee in my pants...but it was a close one...a very, very...VERY close one.
After dinner was done and cleaned up we preheated the oven for the ceremonial making of the Christmas cookies. That was going to be all Jon and Hannah because once again the anxiousness was taking hold and it was time to excuse myself for a cooling off period. This consist of going to the bedroom and usually sitting in the quiet. Sometimes I have to actually go and take a shower to take my mind off the anxious thoughts. I used to go and run or walk when I became anxious but found that it actually prolonged the anxiety. Sucky find because for a while there it was a GREAT way to get in shape. Figure 6 or 7 anxiety attacks a day...a month or so later I'm down close to 10lbs.
Thankfully this one was quick lived and I was back in the mix within a thirty minutes. Just in time to torture the dogs and catch a few pics of Jon and Hannah's Christmas crowns.
So here is my gift to you my readers...a few pics to show you how our Christmas Eve was spent.
Yep ladies...he's mine...ALL mine!
Jon and our baby girl. You'd think the crowns were her idea...NOPE...it was all him!
The great thing about being a man in a house full of girls...LOTS of kisses!
Usually she just leaves a note...this year, she means business! In case you can't read it, the cookie says "Dear Santa, I want it all. If that isn't possible then leave the cookie and no on gets hurt. Love, Hannah."
And because no holiday season would be complete without my dogs....
....remember...if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all because Karma is a real bitch....
Merry Christmas everyone!!
Love, Hugs and Kisses,
~JP
Sunday, December 20, 2009
My emotional compass is broken...maybe I should buy a GPS.
I am getting really, REALLY tired of asking myself "how did I get here"...mainly because I keep getting the same answer which of course is "how the fuck should I know" and "why are you asking yourself questions and fully expecting answers to pop up...jackass".
Answering questions with questions is probably a big part of my problem. Another issue has to be the fact that I am asking myself questions and expecting another entity, inside my psyche, to magically provide an answer. It's probably as close to a Sybil moment as one can come without actually sprouting the other personalities.
Good thing too because even I don't think I have the stamina to deal with another form of crazy in my mind. That and the fact that I have no healthcare (thank you America) to pay for the meds to keep that kind of psycho in check. I would be forced to just put on a bathrobe and shuffle up and down the streets of our fair city which would completely cement my kids having a to have a psychology fund in place of a college fund for their future.
I am trying to think if there has ever been a time where I have felt this out of sorts with my own self. Having trouble pinpointing one. I know I've had some lows in my 32 years of life but this one certainly seems to take the cake, ice cream and pie of all the other moments.
Certainly no one plans out their life and thinks...hey better pencil in some time to absolutely lose your mind and go completely insane. Maybe if I had been a better planner I would have factored it in so that it wouldn't have thrown everyone elses schedule and my own for such a fucking loop. You really can't get anything accomplished when your busy self destructing. Just a little FYI for if you ever decide to have a nervous breakdown. What can I say...I'm a helper.
I sit in my room and think "today will be the day that things will turn around"....and then magically it doesn't. Hmmm...what a let down.
The only constant is Penny, my bed, laptop and my unending stream of thoughts. It's a constant barrage of self examination. In case you ever think that someone else could be your worse critic...I suggest that you spend a good 24 hours alone with yourself.
If that doesn't work and you still think that someone...anyone can tear you down harder than you could ever do to yourself...I suggest you go back and spend a few days, weeks, months locked inside this depression with the unending loop of failures playing an then get back to me and see if you are able to name ANYONE that can lay on that type of personal dismanteling. I'm thinking your list will be blank.
Anyone willing to offer up suggestions or antecdotes to possibly aid in the reconstruction efforts is more than welcome to pass them along.
~JP
Answering questions with questions is probably a big part of my problem. Another issue has to be the fact that I am asking myself questions and expecting another entity, inside my psyche, to magically provide an answer. It's probably as close to a Sybil moment as one can come without actually sprouting the other personalities.
Good thing too because even I don't think I have the stamina to deal with another form of crazy in my mind. That and the fact that I have no healthcare (thank you America) to pay for the meds to keep that kind of psycho in check. I would be forced to just put on a bathrobe and shuffle up and down the streets of our fair city which would completely cement my kids having a to have a psychology fund in place of a college fund for their future.
I am trying to think if there has ever been a time where I have felt this out of sorts with my own self. Having trouble pinpointing one. I know I've had some lows in my 32 years of life but this one certainly seems to take the cake, ice cream and pie of all the other moments.
Certainly no one plans out their life and thinks...hey better pencil in some time to absolutely lose your mind and go completely insane. Maybe if I had been a better planner I would have factored it in so that it wouldn't have thrown everyone elses schedule and my own for such a fucking loop. You really can't get anything accomplished when your busy self destructing. Just a little FYI for if you ever decide to have a nervous breakdown. What can I say...I'm a helper.
I sit in my room and think "today will be the day that things will turn around"....and then magically it doesn't. Hmmm...what a let down.
The only constant is Penny, my bed, laptop and my unending stream of thoughts. It's a constant barrage of self examination. In case you ever think that someone else could be your worse critic...I suggest that you spend a good 24 hours alone with yourself.
If that doesn't work and you still think that someone...anyone can tear you down harder than you could ever do to yourself...I suggest you go back and spend a few days, weeks, months locked inside this depression with the unending loop of failures playing an then get back to me and see if you are able to name ANYONE that can lay on that type of personal dismanteling. I'm thinking your list will be blank.
Anyone willing to offer up suggestions or antecdotes to possibly aid in the reconstruction efforts is more than welcome to pass them along.
~JP
Greetings from the land of lost....
I used to relish in the idea that I couldn't possibly fall farther down into the deepening waters of depression and then miraculously and viciously...I did. They, whoever "they" is say that when you hit rock bottom that you will know. I do not doubt this to be true. I just wonder how far, exactly, precisely does one have to sink before they are truly at this horrendous place marked as bottom. Cause I'd like to enter those coordinates into mapquest or some kind of life GPS.
Instead of being able to discern my location based on some kind of emotional lardmark all I can profess is "greetings from the land of lost". Lost in emotion. Lost in disillusion. And lost in the sheer vastness that is uncertainty. It is painful and overwhelming to the point of feeling like ones chest and all that is encapsilated inside of it is going to be crushed and just come oozing out of what ever opening happens to be the closest. And yet it doesn't and thus the panicked pain continues until mercifully you sleep. Whether it be from exhaustion or just in order to escape from whatever else you should be doing at that precise moment that may in fact help you turn this unending decline around but that your body, mind and soul has deemed you incapable.
Medication doesn't help. "They" say it's because you haven't found the right one or combination of ones and for awhile you believe it until you've spent so much time wrapped up in that little orange bottle with the white cap that you begin to think that it is a family member that you should possibly begin sending holiday cards to. I like to envision Mr. Prozac receiving my chosen foil embelished festive greeting with smiling picture of my children nestled inside and a hand scribbled "all the best to you and yours this Holiday season" and it justfeeling so warm and fuzzy inside at being remembered.
And why wouldn't it be remembered when it was the reason that I was able to function a full 3 whole days with out debilitating anxiety and depression out of a full 30 day period. Wow, behold the magical powers of pharmaceuticals! I think not.
So we take the hollistic approach and meditate upon the reasons as to why I am in fact so damn depressed. Meditating turns to thinking. Thinking turns to feeling anxious. Anxiety leads to panic. Panic leads to no good and then frustration and then sleep.
Every approach I have taken in the past 3 years has lead me to run into one brick wall after another. I've gone through 6 different combinations of medication. I've seen two therapist. Logged countless pages in journals. What has this journey of sliding further into the darkness yielded me? The loss of 5 jobs. A failing marriage and two children who have come to attomatically assume that I am asleep when I may actually be standing in the same exact room.
I am listless and completely lost. I have long since run out of ideas and now just try to go from second to second. It is hard to find bits of humor in this bone crushing madness. This and only this is why I haven't posted in almost a month. The times of smiling and humor are so few and far between that I cannot even begin to extract enough to make a humorous post out of it and when something truly funny does happen I can't seem to find the where withall to remember to write it down.
I miss the comments I received from my readers but more so I miss not puting out something funny to entertain all of you to begin with.
~JP
Instead of being able to discern my location based on some kind of emotional lardmark all I can profess is "greetings from the land of lost". Lost in emotion. Lost in disillusion. And lost in the sheer vastness that is uncertainty. It is painful and overwhelming to the point of feeling like ones chest and all that is encapsilated inside of it is going to be crushed and just come oozing out of what ever opening happens to be the closest. And yet it doesn't and thus the panicked pain continues until mercifully you sleep. Whether it be from exhaustion or just in order to escape from whatever else you should be doing at that precise moment that may in fact help you turn this unending decline around but that your body, mind and soul has deemed you incapable.
Medication doesn't help. "They" say it's because you haven't found the right one or combination of ones and for awhile you believe it until you've spent so much time wrapped up in that little orange bottle with the white cap that you begin to think that it is a family member that you should possibly begin sending holiday cards to. I like to envision Mr. Prozac receiving my chosen foil embelished festive greeting with smiling picture of my children nestled inside and a hand scribbled "all the best to you and yours this Holiday season" and it justfeeling so warm and fuzzy inside at being remembered.
And why wouldn't it be remembered when it was the reason that I was able to function a full 3 whole days with out debilitating anxiety and depression out of a full 30 day period. Wow, behold the magical powers of pharmaceuticals! I think not.
So we take the hollistic approach and meditate upon the reasons as to why I am in fact so damn depressed. Meditating turns to thinking. Thinking turns to feeling anxious. Anxiety leads to panic. Panic leads to no good and then frustration and then sleep.
Every approach I have taken in the past 3 years has lead me to run into one brick wall after another. I've gone through 6 different combinations of medication. I've seen two therapist. Logged countless pages in journals. What has this journey of sliding further into the darkness yielded me? The loss of 5 jobs. A failing marriage and two children who have come to attomatically assume that I am asleep when I may actually be standing in the same exact room.
I am listless and completely lost. I have long since run out of ideas and now just try to go from second to second. It is hard to find bits of humor in this bone crushing madness. This and only this is why I haven't posted in almost a month. The times of smiling and humor are so few and far between that I cannot even begin to extract enough to make a humorous post out of it and when something truly funny does happen I can't seem to find the where withall to remember to write it down.
I miss the comments I received from my readers but more so I miss not puting out something funny to entertain all of you to begin with.
~JP
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
It was positively CornMaizing....
I've lived here in Louisiana for a little over 7 years now. In all that time, although I've been invited and heard it mentioned every year about this time, I had never made it out to the Hickory Corn Maze. I can now not only check that off my list, but also check off conquering my fear of evil eyed children coming out of the rows of corn in order to kill me with sickles (thank you Children of the Corn).
I don't know that I was actually invited along this time. Hannah was for sure invited, I think I then invited myself when I heard that my friend was insane enough to not only let my daughter come but also allow each of her other two children have a friend thus making the ratio 6 to 1. Thus putting my friend at horrendous odds. She obliged whether it be for the company or for safety reasons.
We made the ride out to the maze and along the way realized that we better stop to get flashlights lest we lead 6 kids (two of which are 5 yr olds) into a dark cornfield. Sadly this thought didn't occur to us while we were at home and could take the flashlights that we own and would cost us NOTHING. Nope. We were two complete and total jackasses and made it almost 1/2 way there before making this stunning realization...it was almost 5p, it gets dark around 5:15p...we will be traipsing through a darkened maze....nah, we don't need lights!
We pulled into a Dollar General and made a beeline (after getting mumbled directions) to the "hardwares section". Section, to me, would denote that this was an area...in reality it was maybe half an aisle long. There sat our gleaming torches for just $1 a piece. We snagged 4 for the group then headed to the front to grab batteries.
My friend may have rationalized that we needed these flashlights for "safety" reasons like tripping or falling, but me? I saw things in a different light, per say. Maybe no one else cared about being in the dark and spooky cornfield but I know for a fact that I had to fight the urge to buy 5 flashlights, just for myself, and a role of duct tape. NO the duct tape was not for the childrens mouths although in retrospect that would have been an amazing idea for the 5yr olds...it would have been to secure 3 of the 5 flashlights to the following areas, one on each foot and one to my head like those coal miner hard hats. Then of course the other two would have been for my hands. Did I mention myhuge slight phobia of corn fields and the demonic children, particularly the one named Malchiah from Children of the Corn? Did I?? DID I???
But I put on my big girl panties and only bought my alotted two.
Deep breath. Ahhhhhh.......
I may have taken my calming breath too soon because when we made it to the front of the shoe box sized store we found that although there were two able bodied individuals up front with two cash registers, there was only one woman working. When I turned to look at my friend I noticed that although we were third in line we weren't last. The line was stretching down the stationerysection aisle and people were looking pissed!
At that very instant I felt that being in the car with 6 moody kids was better than being in here. My friend and I just kept exchanging glances with one another and I kept looking outside to see if A) any of the kids had jumped ship from the SUV left idling in the parking lot or B) was it rocking back and forth to the point that we may need to worry that someone was being attacked by one of the other occupants of the vehicle. No one jumped out or was maimed in our absence although I cannot be sure as to how the clerks in the store fared once we had purchased our items and left the remaining long line of customers.
A good 20 minutes later we were making our way back out to the parking lot. We made a mental note that we would allow one flashlight per pairing. One for the moms, one for the 5yr olds (which was sure to start an argument), one for the teenagers and finally one for the middle kids. We made sure that the flashlights were all the same color for the kids to prevent blood shed. Our flashlight was a different color and would have gone completely unnoticed as such if we had been just a tad bit quicker when installing the batteries. As we tried to get the flashlights ready I revisted the idea of the duct tape when the 5 yr olds became obsessed with the idea of holding the flashlights and kept asking over and over and OVER to "just hold em, not use em...just hold em".
Another 10 minutes of driving and we were at the corn field. We made our way down the winding driveway and into a clearing with the cornfield set back a ways. There was no one there and no lights. What the hell?? It looked closed. Immediately the kids started asking if they could get out. My friend and I just stared blankly at one another. Again...what the hell?? I picked up my Crackberry and quickly found the website for the corn maze. Right on the first page of the website it listed the dates and the times. Only one problem. The thing opened at 6p and it was currently 5:07p. We would either need to spend 53 grueling minutes (yeah...7 minutes less than an hour) in a vehicle with the kids -OR- attempt to come back another time before it was set to close for the season.
We weighed our options, with each ticking second which happened to feel like minutes but sadly were not.
The Pro's to staying....
1) We had already driven out here.
2) We had the flashlights.
3) The kids each had a friend with them.
4) This would really be the only time we could do it.
The Con's to staying...
1) Shit seriously making this list only ate up like 1.5 minutes...OMG, that means like another 51 1/2 more minutes of sitting in this vehicle with these kids???
We went with the pro's list and then after waiting in the car for another 20 minutes, let the kids out to tear up the place. That bought us another 10 to 15 minutes and the final 15 minutes was spent telling them (mainly the 5yr olds) to stop running and slamming themselves into the ticketing building and the port-o-potty and each other and "for the love of God put down that stick before someone seriously gets hurt".
Mercifully 6p came and we bought our tickets. We had already squashed the dreams of the tweens who had wanted to go through the maze unaided by saying "that we should all stay together it will go quicker". Apparently the ticket taker didn't know this because one of her first questions after asking if this was our first time at the maze was to ask if we would like to go in separate groups to see who could make it through the fastest. The tween girls bout came out of the their clothes thinking that this meant that they could go alone. Thankfully we didn't have to be huge meanies because then she clarified that they would need to be accompanied by someone 16 yrs or older. Luckily, we had two of those so after some quick deciding we chose to let the teens take the tweens and that left us sporting the little ones.
We all had to stand and listen to the rules of the corn maze before we could enter. These are the ones that I can remember:
1) There is no screaming or trying to scare people while in the maze. (I liked this rule because I felt it would keep me safe from some jackleg trying to reenact Children of the Corn)
2) If you ever get lost or need help just call out "corn cop" and someone will come and assist you.
3) There is no use of fowl language used inside the corn maze, remember the corn have ears so they are always listening. (I'm not making this shit up...these were her EXACT words)
The teens with tweens in tow made their way into the maze first. I had to keep myself from doing the happy dance because on the upside for me, 5yr olds tire quickly of holding things like flashlights thus allowing adults to carry them and therefore decreasing the chance of sickle carrying demon children from jumping out of the cornstalks to slay me. Just a thought.
We made our way into the maze and I gotta be real honest within the first 30 seconds I thought to myself "what the fuck are you doing here this is downright creepy"...but then one of the little ones started talking about poop and I figured no scary movie I've ever seen has the mom dying while trying to dissuade a child from talking about bodily functions. Figured I was safe so I relaxed and enjoyed the trek. And oh what a trek it was. We were so turned around that within 15 minutes of entering we were right back at the entrance. The lady that took our tickets said that if you ever get to a point where you need help just call out "corn cop" and someone will come to help you. I foolishly thought that these individuals would announce themselves. Feeling completely overwhelmed and going in what we believed to be circles we called out for what we deemed to be our corn savior the almighty "corn cop". That son of a bitch came out of no where through the corn and I am pretty sure I peed my pants a bit.
I told my friend that the next time we think about calling out for one of those fuckers I need to prepare my bladder.
We finally began to move and make our way to the different points on our map. This years maze was the phrase "We Stand Up For Freedom". We began in the "M" of Freedom and began to get truly lost around what we believed to be on of the "E's" but were then corrected by the first "corn cop" who said we had made it to the "F". By the time we made it to the half way point we'd been scared half to death by a shadowy "corn cop" who seemed to appear and reappear as if out of thin air. I disaffectionately named this person Jedidiah because it sounded creepy just like him and we all agreed we didn't like him one bit. We felt victorious that we had made it halfway through without any major incident of demonic sickle wielding children or accidents with the two boys we were coraling. We purchased some drinks and momentarily contemplated leaving the maze but figured we made it half way, why not finish it.
About 10 minutes later we were cursing ourselves, albeit silently so as not to be thrown out of the maze. The friend that my friends little boy had chosen to bring along as his companion for the outing began to describe in detail how he hadn't been feeling well earlier that day and was punctuating his story by farting every so often and burping in between that. I don't know how I had gone from leader to caboose but this was the most unfortunate timing for the switch. Another 20 minutes and we, well mostly me, had given up the silent cursing for actual audible commentary of our completely lost status. We called out for a "corn cop" who told us we were close to be on the right track to finding our way out.
We bought what he was selling about how we were at a certain point on the map and this is how we should hold the map and blah, blah, blah another 15 minutes or so and should be out. Then he went off to help a crying child that was part of another group and once again we were in the corn...lost...and frustrated. We tried to figure out where we were on the map. No dice. The kids were getting tired. Hell we were getting tired. We called the teen and tween group and swore that we could hear their voices just a few rows over. They were of no help to us. The boys complained more of being tired and we continued to march them up this row and arrow that corner and "just down here" and "hey I think I see a light over there" and finally we had had it. We began a somber "corn cop...oh, corn cop". Then it began to sound desperate "corn cop...we need you...please, corn cop". The boys even chimed in a time or two.
I then contemplated getting completely belligerent in an attempt at being escorted out of the maze, but decided that wouldn't be a good example for the boys. But a few seconds later both my friend and I were feeling desperate and I told the boys that if the "flippin corn cop doesn't hurry up and get his butt out here I am gonna make one or both of you cry so we could get some speedy help like that other crying child from earlier". Amazing what the treat of child abuse can do for you...we had a corn cop on us like white on rice.
He asked, ever so politely, if we would like him to show us where we were on the map so we could finish alone. We emphatically and in unison answered NO we just wanted to get out. I have to admit the poor guy was super nice and even took us to some of the few last clues on our map and let the boys do them. One was saying your ABC's while alternating your arms in an up and down position with every other letter. For instance you started with your hands in the air for A then down for B and so on. Wherever you landed determined whether you went left of right. The boys started out in sync and then lost it around F which made me laugh and make a joke about "this is what we get for sending them to public school" to which our guide said he was homes schooled. Way to bring on the creepy Children of the Corn feeling dude!
Another 10 minutes and we were free of the corn. The boys were ecstatic, but I think we were happier. We waited for a few minutes for the other kids but then we saw them coming from the car and realized they had finished WAY before us. As we loaded up the kids we commented on how much fun this turned out to be and as we made our way back out onto the road and on our way home we looked back to catch some of the kids sleeping in the back seat clutching the corn they had gotten as a souvenir.
Not every night that you choose to have 6 kids can turn out so well, but we had to admit it was pretty fun. The best part was that after traipsing them here, there and everywhere through a cornfield for 2 hours they would sleep like logs and truly that is the most precious thing of all.
I slept pretty good myself and I didn't have one nightmare of a sickle wielding demon child although I couldn't seem to get the smell of the one little one's farts from my nostril. Kids...they are just plain cornmaizing!
~JP
I don't know that I was actually invited along this time. Hannah was for sure invited, I think I then invited myself when I heard that my friend was insane enough to not only let my daughter come but also allow each of her other two children have a friend thus making the ratio 6 to 1. Thus putting my friend at horrendous odds. She obliged whether it be for the company or for safety reasons.
We made the ride out to the maze and along the way realized that we better stop to get flashlights lest we lead 6 kids (two of which are 5 yr olds) into a dark cornfield. Sadly this thought didn't occur to us while we were at home and could take the flashlights that we own and would cost us NOTHING. Nope. We were two complete and total jackasses and made it almost 1/2 way there before making this stunning realization...it was almost 5p, it gets dark around 5:15p...we will be traipsing through a darkened maze....nah, we don't need lights!
We pulled into a Dollar General and made a beeline (after getting mumbled directions) to the "hardwares section". Section, to me, would denote that this was an area...in reality it was maybe half an aisle long. There sat our gleaming torches for just $1 a piece. We snagged 4 for the group then headed to the front to grab batteries.
My friend may have rationalized that we needed these flashlights for "safety" reasons like tripping or falling, but me? I saw things in a different light, per say. Maybe no one else cared about being in the dark and spooky cornfield but I know for a fact that I had to fight the urge to buy 5 flashlights, just for myself, and a role of duct tape. NO the duct tape was not for the childrens mouths although in retrospect that would have been an amazing idea for the 5yr olds...it would have been to secure 3 of the 5 flashlights to the following areas, one on each foot and one to my head like those coal miner hard hats. Then of course the other two would have been for my hands. Did I mention my
But I put on my big girl panties and only bought my alotted two.
Deep breath. Ahhhhhh.......
I may have taken my calming breath too soon because when we made it to the front of the shoe box sized store we found that although there were two able bodied individuals up front with two cash registers, there was only one woman working. When I turned to look at my friend I noticed that although we were third in line we weren't last. The line was stretching down the stationery
At that very instant I felt that being in the car with 6 moody kids was better than being in here. My friend and I just kept exchanging glances with one another and I kept looking outside to see if A) any of the kids had jumped ship from the SUV left idling in the parking lot or B) was it rocking back and forth to the point that we may need to worry that someone was being attacked by one of the other occupants of the vehicle. No one jumped out or was maimed in our absence although I cannot be sure as to how the clerks in the store fared once we had purchased our items and left the remaining long line of customers.
A good 20 minutes later we were making our way back out to the parking lot. We made a mental note that we would allow one flashlight per pairing. One for the moms, one for the 5yr olds (which was sure to start an argument), one for the teenagers and finally one for the middle kids. We made sure that the flashlights were all the same color for the kids to prevent blood shed. Our flashlight was a different color and would have gone completely unnoticed as such if we had been just a tad bit quicker when installing the batteries. As we tried to get the flashlights ready I revisted the idea of the duct tape when the 5 yr olds became obsessed with the idea of holding the flashlights and kept asking over and over and OVER to "just hold em, not use em...just hold em".
Another 10 minutes of driving and we were at the corn field. We made our way down the winding driveway and into a clearing with the cornfield set back a ways. There was no one there and no lights. What the hell?? It looked closed. Immediately the kids started asking if they could get out. My friend and I just stared blankly at one another. Again...what the hell?? I picked up my Crackberry and quickly found the website for the corn maze. Right on the first page of the website it listed the dates and the times. Only one problem. The thing opened at 6p and it was currently 5:07p. We would either need to spend 53 grueling minutes (yeah...7 minutes less than an hour) in a vehicle with the kids -OR- attempt to come back another time before it was set to close for the season.
We weighed our options, with each ticking second which happened to feel like minutes but sadly were not.
The Pro's to staying....
1) We had already driven out here.
2) We had the flashlights.
3) The kids each had a friend with them.
4) This would really be the only time we could do it.
The Con's to staying...
1) Shit seriously making this list only ate up like 1.5 minutes...OMG, that means like another 51 1/2 more minutes of sitting in this vehicle with these kids???
We went with the pro's list and then after waiting in the car for another 20 minutes, let the kids out to tear up the place. That bought us another 10 to 15 minutes and the final 15 minutes was spent telling them (mainly the 5yr olds) to stop running and slamming themselves into the ticketing building and the port-o-potty and each other and "for the love of God put down that stick before someone seriously gets hurt".
Mercifully 6p came and we bought our tickets. We had already squashed the dreams of the tweens who had wanted to go through the maze unaided by saying "that we should all stay together it will go quicker". Apparently the ticket taker didn't know this because one of her first questions after asking if this was our first time at the maze was to ask if we would like to go in separate groups to see who could make it through the fastest. The tween girls bout came out of the their clothes thinking that this meant that they could go alone. Thankfully we didn't have to be huge meanies because then she clarified that they would need to be accompanied by someone 16 yrs or older. Luckily, we had two of those so after some quick deciding we chose to let the teens take the tweens and that left us sporting the little ones.
We all had to stand and listen to the rules of the corn maze before we could enter. These are the ones that I can remember:
1) There is no screaming or trying to scare people while in the maze. (I liked this rule because I felt it would keep me safe from some jackleg trying to reenact Children of the Corn)
2) If you ever get lost or need help just call out "corn cop" and someone will come and assist you.
3) There is no use of fowl language used inside the corn maze, remember the corn have ears so they are always listening. (I'm not making this shit up...these were her EXACT words)
The teens with tweens in tow made their way into the maze first. I had to keep myself from doing the happy dance because on the upside for me, 5yr olds tire quickly of holding things like flashlights thus allowing adults to carry them and therefore decreasing the chance of sickle carrying demon children from jumping out of the cornstalks to slay me. Just a thought.
We made our way into the maze and I gotta be real honest within the first 30 seconds I thought to myself "what the fuck are you doing here this is downright creepy"...but then one of the little ones started talking about poop and I figured no scary movie I've ever seen has the mom dying while trying to dissuade a child from talking about bodily functions. Figured I was safe so I relaxed and enjoyed the trek. And oh what a trek it was. We were so turned around that within 15 minutes of entering we were right back at the entrance. The lady that took our tickets said that if you ever get to a point where you need help just call out "corn cop" and someone will come to help you. I foolishly thought that these individuals would announce themselves. Feeling completely overwhelmed and going in what we believed to be circles we called out for what we deemed to be our corn savior the almighty "corn cop". That son of a bitch came out of no where through the corn and I am pretty sure I peed my pants a bit.
I told my friend that the next time we think about calling out for one of those fuckers I need to prepare my bladder.
We finally began to move and make our way to the different points on our map. This years maze was the phrase "We Stand Up For Freedom". We began in the "M" of Freedom and began to get truly lost around what we believed to be on of the "E's" but were then corrected by the first "corn cop" who said we had made it to the "F". By the time we made it to the half way point we'd been scared half to death by a shadowy "corn cop" who seemed to appear and reappear as if out of thin air. I disaffectionately named this person Jedidiah because it sounded creepy just like him and we all agreed we didn't like him one bit. We felt victorious that we had made it halfway through without any major incident of demonic sickle wielding children or accidents with the two boys we were coraling. We purchased some drinks and momentarily contemplated leaving the maze but figured we made it half way, why not finish it.
About 10 minutes later we were cursing ourselves, albeit silently so as not to be thrown out of the maze. The friend that my friends little boy had chosen to bring along as his companion for the outing began to describe in detail how he hadn't been feeling well earlier that day and was punctuating his story by farting every so often and burping in between that. I don't know how I had gone from leader to caboose but this was the most unfortunate timing for the switch. Another 20 minutes and we, well mostly me, had given up the silent cursing for actual audible commentary of our completely lost status. We called out for a "corn cop" who told us we were close to be on the right track to finding our way out.
We bought what he was selling about how we were at a certain point on the map and this is how we should hold the map and blah, blah, blah another 15 minutes or so and should be out. Then he went off to help a crying child that was part of another group and once again we were in the corn...lost...and frustrated. We tried to figure out where we were on the map. No dice. The kids were getting tired. Hell we were getting tired. We called the teen and tween group and swore that we could hear their voices just a few rows over. They were of no help to us. The boys complained more of being tired and we continued to march them up this row and arrow that corner and "just down here" and "hey I think I see a light over there" and finally we had had it. We began a somber "corn cop...oh, corn cop". Then it began to sound desperate "corn cop...we need you...please, corn cop". The boys even chimed in a time or two.
I then contemplated getting completely belligerent in an attempt at being escorted out of the maze, but decided that wouldn't be a good example for the boys. But a few seconds later both my friend and I were feeling desperate and I told the boys that if the "flippin corn cop doesn't hurry up and get his butt out here I am gonna make one or both of you cry so we could get some speedy help like that other crying child from earlier". Amazing what the treat of child abuse can do for you...we had a corn cop on us like white on rice.
He asked, ever so politely, if we would like him to show us where we were on the map so we could finish alone. We emphatically and in unison answered NO we just wanted to get out. I have to admit the poor guy was super nice and even took us to some of the few last clues on our map and let the boys do them. One was saying your ABC's while alternating your arms in an up and down position with every other letter. For instance you started with your hands in the air for A then down for B and so on. Wherever you landed determined whether you went left of right. The boys started out in sync and then lost it around F which made me laugh and make a joke about "this is what we get for sending them to public school" to which our guide said he was homes schooled. Way to bring on the creepy Children of the Corn feeling dude!
Another 10 minutes and we were free of the corn. The boys were ecstatic, but I think we were happier. We waited for a few minutes for the other kids but then we saw them coming from the car and realized they had finished WAY before us. As we loaded up the kids we commented on how much fun this turned out to be and as we made our way back out onto the road and on our way home we looked back to catch some of the kids sleeping in the back seat clutching the corn they had gotten as a souvenir.
Not every night that you choose to have 6 kids can turn out so well, but we had to admit it was pretty fun. The best part was that after traipsing them here, there and everywhere through a cornfield for 2 hours they would sleep like logs and truly that is the most precious thing of all.
I slept pretty good myself and I didn't have one nightmare of a sickle wielding demon child although I couldn't seem to get the smell of the one little one's farts from my nostril. Kids...they are just plain cornmaizing!
~JP
Monday, November 16, 2009
Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it could be what saves a marriage....
Jon and I went on a date on Saturday. Shouldn't be like a huge announcement I know...but for me it is.
Marriage, relationship....hell, life hasn't been going all that happily for me or for Jon, so a date was a miraculous occasion.
It wasn't extravagant, it wasn't even overly romantic...but it was enough to give thought as to whether there is still something to work with.
In the win column went the fact that we were at a steak restaurant and I didn't once think about stabbing him in the jugular, hand or even male appendage with the knife that sat in front of me for the entire meal. Also in the win column was the fact that although the conversation did slip towards the angry unsaid stuff that had been building up from our last argument it went back to the easy casual conversing of people who still very much love one another.
Jon took it upon himself to utilize some of the techniques that he had picked up from a program that he purchased in order to assist him in our marital discord. He was asking questions to try anything to start communication between the two of us. He would ask, I would talk and he would listen. Then it just felt natural for me to ask him something and let him talk while I listened. The listening part is a little hard for me since I seem to feel the need to interrupt. That's just a little something...okay a big something that I need to work on.
Instead of going to a movie after dinner we opted to go to a local bar and have a drink while sitting outside on the back patio away from everyone and just talking. I wasn't willing to let go of the conversation that had started at dinner and while I would have loved to see a movie, my priority right now is to keep the line of dialogue open. We sat for almost an hour just laughing and talking. It seemed natural and easy like it's supposed to be.
In the loss column, which wasn't anyone's fault except for possibly cold and flu season was the fact that we needed to cut the night short because A) he was having pain just talking from a sore throat and then B) he started hacking. Yep, that's a mood killer.
We called it a night and haven't had an argument. I guess there are still some things left to be curious about in our relationship and that may just be what we need to work our way back to a new start.
~JP
Marriage, relationship....hell, life hasn't been going all that happily for me or for Jon, so a date was a miraculous occasion.
It wasn't extravagant, it wasn't even overly romantic...but it was enough to give thought as to whether there is still something to work with.
In the win column went the fact that we were at a steak restaurant and I didn't once think about stabbing him in the jugular, hand or even male appendage with the knife that sat in front of me for the entire meal. Also in the win column was the fact that although the conversation did slip towards the angry unsaid stuff that had been building up from our last argument it went back to the easy casual conversing of people who still very much love one another.
Jon took it upon himself to utilize some of the techniques that he had picked up from a program that he purchased in order to assist him in our marital discord. He was asking questions to try anything to start communication between the two of us. He would ask, I would talk and he would listen. Then it just felt natural for me to ask him something and let him talk while I listened. The listening part is a little hard for me since I seem to feel the need to interrupt. That's just a little something...okay a big something that I need to work on.
Instead of going to a movie after dinner we opted to go to a local bar and have a drink while sitting outside on the back patio away from everyone and just talking. I wasn't willing to let go of the conversation that had started at dinner and while I would have loved to see a movie, my priority right now is to keep the line of dialogue open. We sat for almost an hour just laughing and talking. It seemed natural and easy like it's supposed to be.
In the loss column, which wasn't anyone's fault except for possibly cold and flu season was the fact that we needed to cut the night short because A) he was having pain just talking from a sore throat and then B) he started hacking. Yep, that's a mood killer.
We called it a night and haven't had an argument. I guess there are still some things left to be curious about in our relationship and that may just be what we need to work our way back to a new start.
~JP
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Here's a little story about a fancy party dress....
Never underestimate the changing fads of teenagers. Just when you think you may have mastered what it is that they like or possibly, foolishly, think you may have stumbled upon something that they may...do I dare say it...love...you will undoubtedly be making the drive of shame back to the store...broken hearted dress in hand from whence you purchased it.
See when you saw it there hanging ever so lovely upon it's silver rack you pictured your daughters adoring face staring back at you proclaiming how you "are the best mother ever" and "how did you know that this is the EXACT color and type of dress that I waswishing dreaming for". This is the trickery of motherhood.
So now just a few weeks past homecoming I accompanied my friends for that dreaded drive of shame. Of course we had to pull back the bag and admire the dress once more. First glances were for admiration. Second glances were to make sure the tag was still affixed and that there had been no harm to the garment that while we loved still needed to be in pristeen condition in order to return.
Thebitchy blessed teen swore that it wasn't worn other than to be tried on. We had born witness that the dress that was purchased by the mom was not the chosen one and was not worn to the dance, but still how can we predict what kind of diva dancin around with a brush in hand may or may not have taken place on late nights in her room as the dress SHOULD have been hanging in it's protective plastic bag cocoon. We did the once over, head to toe checks for any damage and came up with the all clear sign.
We made the drive across the lake talking all the while about how it was so pretty and how wonderful it would have been. Once we arrived the mom that had originally purchased it was terrified to go in and return it given the time that had gone by. I didn't understand her hesitation and nor did my other friend, but being the team players that we are we took her card, the dress and the receipt in for the return.
As we made our way to the formal department we began to feel a little uneasy as if we would be sent to the department store jail for trying to return a dress. Before we could really think too much about it we were front and center at the dress counter. The sales girl was polite and asked if we had the receipt. We handed it over. She pulled the dress out of the bag and began to locate both the tags that needed to be affixed in order to return a garment.
It was at that precise moment that my eyes fell upon a small stain that I hadn't noticed when we were back at the house. I didn't dare look to the left of me at my other friend who was doing the bulk of the talking. Another sales person walked up and bent down to grab something from underneath the counter. Out of the very corner of my eye I could see that my girlfriend was getting a little antsy. I was still VERY unwilling to look over at her.
As I began to get jittery the transaction was done and we were on our way. As we made our way to the exit of the store I could barely contain myself and said, "oh my God did you see that stain"?
Her eyes got as big as quarters and said, "the stain....my God did you see the rip"?
We double stepped it out of the store in hopes of not being dragged back in and thrown in the mall jail. Just another Wednesday in the land of parents with teenage daughters. It's glamorous and oh so exciting!
~JP
See when you saw it there hanging ever so lovely upon it's silver rack you pictured your daughters adoring face staring back at you proclaiming how you "are the best mother ever" and "how did you know that this is the EXACT color and type of dress that I was
So now just a few weeks past homecoming I accompanied my friends for that dreaded drive of shame. Of course we had to pull back the bag and admire the dress once more. First glances were for admiration. Second glances were to make sure the tag was still affixed and that there had been no harm to the garment that while we loved still needed to be in pristeen condition in order to return.
The
We made the drive across the lake talking all the while about how it was so pretty and how wonderful it would have been. Once we arrived the mom that had originally purchased it was terrified to go in and return it given the time that had gone by. I didn't understand her hesitation and nor did my other friend, but being the team players that we are we took her card, the dress and the receipt in for the return.
As we made our way to the formal department we began to feel a little uneasy as if we would be sent to the department store jail for trying to return a dress. Before we could really think too much about it we were front and center at the dress counter. The sales girl was polite and asked if we had the receipt. We handed it over. She pulled the dress out of the bag and began to locate both the tags that needed to be affixed in order to return a garment.
It was at that precise moment that my eyes fell upon a small stain that I hadn't noticed when we were back at the house. I didn't dare look to the left of me at my other friend who was doing the bulk of the talking. Another sales person walked up and bent down to grab something from underneath the counter. Out of the very corner of my eye I could see that my girlfriend was getting a little antsy. I was still VERY unwilling to look over at her.
As I began to get jittery the transaction was done and we were on our way. As we made our way to the exit of the store I could barely contain myself and said, "oh my God did you see that stain"?
Her eyes got as big as quarters and said, "the stain....my God did you see the rip"?
We double stepped it out of the store in hopes of not being dragged back in and thrown in the mall jail. Just another Wednesday in the land of parents with teenage daughters. It's glamorous and oh so exciting!
~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
Finding common ground....
I stayed up all night last night. Big shocker. I had spent the last several weeks pouring through web sites about marriage and repairing the damaged marriage, fixing the broken person...blah, blah, blah and I remembered last night that a friend of mine had given me a book a few years back called "The Five Love Languages: How to Express Hearfelt Commitment to Your Mate". I became obsessed with finding that damn book.
First I thought I might use it to bludgeon Jon to death with but then I figured it might be more useful if I actually read it and then tried to utilize the tools that it may teach me. Thank God it wasn't in the garage or attic or in a box that was still packed from when we moved into this house just a mere...ummm...cough...ergh, 5 years ago. But this post isn't about my inability to unpack boxes, fear of garages or attics in the middle of the night or even my fantasies of beating Jon to a pulp with great works of self help books...it's about this book and how I HAD TO FIND IT.
Priorities people...priorities!
Once I found it....conveniently located on a bookshelf, who'd of thunk...I then became obsessed with reading it.
ALL OF IT.
In one night.
I have an addictive personality...once I set my mind on something...it becomes a friggin obsession!
It was as if the expanse of the past three years of fighting and silent treatments, ultimatums, asking him to leave, letting him come back and then me leaving and the final action of taking off my wedding band and telling him "I'm done" was boiled down into to what the hell I was gonna do in the span of time that it would take me to read all 175 pages.
I'm a fast reader and I literally read this book until I could no longer hold up my head or hold open my eyes. I fell asleep reading it then woke up and finished it. While I slept though was when I received a message from Jon who had taken it upon himself ,without talking to me, to find his own guidance in the midst of our seperation.
We have spent a great deal of time standing on separate sides of what should be one unified relationship. Being pig headed and stubborn has not served us well and we've both held on to the "I'm right and you're wrong", mentality so long that I don't event think we care to explain what it is that we think we may be right about. After three years of battling you gain a great sense of entitlement to your feelings.
After three years of battling you also get a lot of looks from the other people that have lived in the house with you through that period of time. I'm pretty sure if we allowed the girls to use curse words, they would have some colorful choice ones for us. I'm also pretty sure that is why the dogs piss and shit near our belongings. It's their way of saying..."dude, either work it out or split up...this shit is annoying".
Tonight was different though.
While we have gotten good at silence and catty glances, making mountains out of the proverbial mole hills and hitting below the belt with words, tonight we simply chose to compliment one another. It was a suggestion in the book that I had ravenously consumed and thought about bringing up to Jon but then felt like I shouldn't have to because...again...I feel that I am right in my feelings of how the past few years have gone and that would make him wrong. I'm pretty sure it is becoming abundantly clear as to why there is no resolution to our problems. I seriously think I may make a shirt that says "I'm right. You're Wrong. What's the problem again?"
So while sitting in that self entitled mindset I was shocked when he sent me a text asking if I had read the email he had forwarded me earlier about the things he was reading in order to help him better understand where he and we had gone so wrong in our marriage. I responded that I had and I tried very hard to keep the sarcasm out of it. Again that little voice of entitlemnt was rising up and trying to bang on the keys of my Crackberry. I fought if off though and remained both civil and intrigued that he was making a first move.
It was a cautious feeling of intrigue though. I mean come one, I may be on a euphoric high from the book but I'm not stupid, we've been down the heartfelt rosey posey road of make believe before. It got us a $10,000 bill for therapy and here we were no better for the experience. But I was good and told him that I had. He asked if I had read the part about making the list of 3 good things about your spouse/partner. He told me that I would need to write them down and we would share them when we saw each other later. I said that I had written them down, I didn't bother to divuldge that this was along the same lines as what I had read in my book and had actually mentally completed the night before. Fixing this marriage is not about what came first the book or the text. It was about both of us trying.
I feel like I've been the only one plowing through the trenches for the past few years so for the first time in a REALLY long time I was struck by his initiative. You gotta know this, therapy...was my idea. Seperation...my idea. Reconciliation...my idea. Seperation again...my idea. I'm thinking you are getting the picture.
With the therapy it was an ultimatum put to him when he had made what I deemed to be the biggest mistake to have happened in our marriage at that particular point in time. My husband, in all his infinite wisdom, had chosen another woman's feelings over my own. I'm not talking his mother or his sister. Nope I am just talking about an old friend.
Yep, that man I love so dearly and had created a life with and was busy raising two children with had stood in our driveway and with my pleading eyes upon him had chosen her over me. When all was said and done, I knew something in him had changed that day and with all that I could muster I told him it was counseling or he could pack his stuff....he chose therapy.
Now looking back and knowing some of the other things that transpired to keep him coming back to sessions week after week, sometimes twice a week, it is no surprise to me why the years worth of marital counseling did nothing more than to fatten our therapist bank account and keep us emotionally bankrupt. Another factor for me at least has been watching the systematic demise of some of my friends marriages. It's hard to remain upbeat about your own future when those around you that you care about are hurting. Watching their struggles amplified my own and thus created this feeling of just wanting to break free of all of it. It was getting to the point of suffocation because all around us there was seperation, infidelity, mistrust and discord.
I don't in any way blame our failures on those around us, but when you are struggling to bail yourselves out of a precarious situation it helps to have some solid ground around you...for us there wasn't anything like that close by. We were forced to rely on each other and THAT was a huge problem because I no longer trusted him and I was pretty sure he felt the same way about me.
Now that we've come to the point of sink or swim, we've decided that it's every marriage for themselves and we cannot rely on what is around us in order to decide if we will fail or succeed. I think, for myself at least, that realization made his gesture so powerful.
Could the feelings of goodwill die tomorrow? Absolutely.
Will the road to our security and a strong marriage be rough? Absofuckinlutely.
But do I think it's possible to come back from the abyss of "I'm done" and possibly find more than just this tiny sliver of common ground? I have hope that it is and that is far more than I had within me when I went searching for that book.
I'll take my common ground. I am thankful for it and I look forward to what may come as I take ever so tiny and well thought out baby steps towards something better than where I am right now.
~JP
First I thought I might use it to bludgeon Jon to death with but then I figured it might be more useful if I actually read it and then tried to utilize the tools that it may teach me. Thank God it wasn't in the garage or attic or in a box that was still packed from when we moved into this house just a mere...ummm...cough...ergh, 5 years ago. But this post isn't about my inability to unpack boxes, fear of garages or attics in the middle of the night or even my fantasies of beating Jon to a pulp with great works of self help books...it's about this book and how I HAD TO FIND IT.
Priorities people...priorities!
Once I found it....conveniently located on a bookshelf, who'd of thunk...I then became obsessed with reading it.
ALL OF IT.
In one night.
I have an addictive personality...once I set my mind on something...it becomes a friggin obsession!
It was as if the expanse of the past three years of fighting and silent treatments, ultimatums, asking him to leave, letting him come back and then me leaving and the final action of taking off my wedding band and telling him "I'm done" was boiled down into to what the hell I was gonna do in the span of time that it would take me to read all 175 pages.
I'm a fast reader and I literally read this book until I could no longer hold up my head or hold open my eyes. I fell asleep reading it then woke up and finished it. While I slept though was when I received a message from Jon who had taken it upon himself ,without talking to me, to find his own guidance in the midst of our seperation.
We have spent a great deal of time standing on separate sides of what should be one unified relationship. Being pig headed and stubborn has not served us well and we've both held on to the "I'm right and you're wrong", mentality so long that I don't event think we care to explain what it is that we think we may be right about. After three years of battling you gain a great sense of entitlement to your feelings.
After three years of battling you also get a lot of looks from the other people that have lived in the house with you through that period of time. I'm pretty sure if we allowed the girls to use curse words, they would have some colorful choice ones for us. I'm also pretty sure that is why the dogs piss and shit near our belongings. It's their way of saying..."dude, either work it out or split up...this shit is annoying".
Tonight was different though.
While we have gotten good at silence and catty glances, making mountains out of the proverbial mole hills and hitting below the belt with words, tonight we simply chose to compliment one another. It was a suggestion in the book that I had ravenously consumed and thought about bringing up to Jon but then felt like I shouldn't have to because...again...I feel that I am right in my feelings of how the past few years have gone and that would make him wrong. I'm pretty sure it is becoming abundantly clear as to why there is no resolution to our problems. I seriously think I may make a shirt that says "I'm right. You're Wrong. What's the problem again?"
So while sitting in that self entitled mindset I was shocked when he sent me a text asking if I had read the email he had forwarded me earlier about the things he was reading in order to help him better understand where he and we had gone so wrong in our marriage. I responded that I had and I tried very hard to keep the sarcasm out of it. Again that little voice of entitlemnt was rising up and trying to bang on the keys of my Crackberry. I fought if off though and remained both civil and intrigued that he was making a first move.
It was a cautious feeling of intrigue though. I mean come one, I may be on a euphoric high from the book but I'm not stupid, we've been down the heartfelt rosey posey road of make believe before. It got us a $10,000 bill for therapy and here we were no better for the experience. But I was good and told him that I had. He asked if I had read the part about making the list of 3 good things about your spouse/partner. He told me that I would need to write them down and we would share them when we saw each other later. I said that I had written them down, I didn't bother to divuldge that this was along the same lines as what I had read in my book and had actually mentally completed the night before. Fixing this marriage is not about what came first the book or the text. It was about both of us trying.
I feel like I've been the only one plowing through the trenches for the past few years so for the first time in a REALLY long time I was struck by his initiative. You gotta know this, therapy...was my idea. Seperation...my idea. Reconciliation...my idea. Seperation again...my idea. I'm thinking you are getting the picture.
With the therapy it was an ultimatum put to him when he had made what I deemed to be the biggest mistake to have happened in our marriage at that particular point in time. My husband, in all his infinite wisdom, had chosen another woman's feelings over my own. I'm not talking his mother or his sister. Nope I am just talking about an old friend.
Yep, that man I love so dearly and had created a life with and was busy raising two children with had stood in our driveway and with my pleading eyes upon him had chosen her over me. When all was said and done, I knew something in him had changed that day and with all that I could muster I told him it was counseling or he could pack his stuff....he chose therapy.
Now looking back and knowing some of the other things that transpired to keep him coming back to sessions week after week, sometimes twice a week, it is no surprise to me why the years worth of marital counseling did nothing more than to fatten our therapist bank account and keep us emotionally bankrupt. Another factor for me at least has been watching the systematic demise of some of my friends marriages. It's hard to remain upbeat about your own future when those around you that you care about are hurting. Watching their struggles amplified my own and thus created this feeling of just wanting to break free of all of it. It was getting to the point of suffocation because all around us there was seperation, infidelity, mistrust and discord.
I don't in any way blame our failures on those around us, but when you are struggling to bail yourselves out of a precarious situation it helps to have some solid ground around you...for us there wasn't anything like that close by. We were forced to rely on each other and THAT was a huge problem because I no longer trusted him and I was pretty sure he felt the same way about me.
Now that we've come to the point of sink or swim, we've decided that it's every marriage for themselves and we cannot rely on what is around us in order to decide if we will fail or succeed. I think, for myself at least, that realization made his gesture so powerful.
Could the feelings of goodwill die tomorrow? Absolutely.
Will the road to our security and a strong marriage be rough? Absofuckinlutely.
But do I think it's possible to come back from the abyss of "I'm done" and possibly find more than just this tiny sliver of common ground? I have hope that it is and that is far more than I had within me when I went searching for that book.
I'll take my common ground. I am thankful for it and I look forward to what may come as I take ever so tiny and well thought out baby steps towards something better than where I am right now.
~JP
Monday, November 9, 2009
The problem with truth telling....
Before I ever thought of having kids or becoming a mother I had what I thought was a VERY wonderful idea about raising my imaginary offspring. I told myself that I would never lie about the important stuff. I'd never tell them that loved ones or pets don't die. I wouldn't lead them to believe that shots won't hurt and I'd never tell them that they'd always be happy and never have their heart broken.
Simple right? Wrong.
The easiest of my "promise" seemed to be the shots. From the time they were babies I'd tell them these words before shots, "big stick, bee sting, cuddles and then a prize". It served me well for the most part. The only time it truly backfired on me was when the girls needed to get their shots up to date for school here in Louisiana. I inadvertently mixed up who needed what shots when I was preparing them with the whole "big stick, bee sting...." yada yada yada. I had told Olivia she would be getting one shot and that Hannah needed three.
Olivia, while she was not overly joyed about needing any was completely over the moon with the idea of torturing her baby sister who'd have to be stuck not once, not twice but three whole times. "That's two more than meeee"...she sing songed all through our wait time. She'd reach over and pinch her baby sister which would send Hannah to wailing and then Olivia would say..."oh come on...that's just one stick...imagine three of those back to back", and so on and so forth.
There was two things that Olivia didn't count on and they were karma and my ability to keep the kids shot records straight. When Olivia galantly led her little sister to the slaughter...ergh, I mean chair, she all but passed out when the nurse stuck Hannah once then released her from the seat and handed her a lolly proclaiming that she had been a "very big girl" and that she was "all done". Those two phrases and the fact that Hannah knew the difference between her getting three and her only getting one. She'd done the quick math and trained her eyes on her sister. Olivia chose that exact moment to turn into a psychotic animal who first tried to run out of the building but was strong armed by Jon and then as she wailed like a banshee she attempted to hold onto the door while bracing her feet against the frame.
Yeah, my honesty about shots wasn't going too well on this occasion. All Jon and I could do after they were finally able to immunize her, was to walk out shaking our heads and apologizing to every one we came in contact with in the building. I do believe we apologized to a janitor that day and to be honest with the way our kid was screaming I think he appreciated it.
My first go around with using honesty in regards to death of a loved one was when my grandmother died and my oldest was on a Girl Scout camping trip. It's not that Olivia hadn't dealt with death before, on the contrary actually...the poor kid had her 7th birthday postponed because my grandfather, her great grandfather, bit the proverbial dust. Nothing like blowing out the candle on your one piece of restaurant cake while the entire family is gathered sniveling and trading stories of the dearly departed at an elongated table of a bar & grill that just happened to be conveniently located next to the funeral home. Well that and the fact that she was actually at the nursing home visiting him with my parents when he died. Yep, that's definitely one for the scrapbook!
While I rushed to Florida to console my mother and help with the funeral arrangements, poor Jon had to make up some kind of song and dance about where I was when she returned from camp so as to allow us both to be there to break the news to her. From that experience I learned never to wait 5 days until I am in the same state to break news of that magnitude. While she was upset about her great grandmothers passing she was more upset that she was not notified immediately. Jon and I learned that Olivia was not one of those kids that dealt well with being the last to know anything. Hell, if we run out of toilet paper you better go notify her first or else there will be an issue. That's just her thing. She likes to be in the loop.
On the other end of the spectrum is Hannah. When my first min pin Aden passed away suddenly over the summer while the girls were away we made a point to tell them both. Fearing a repeat of great grandma and the wrath of Olivia not being notified we figured that honesty when the event took place was the best policy. With Olivia that was fine. She took the news, was saddened and moved on. Hannah on the other hand who had been too young to really comprehend the news of her great grandmother's death, when it occured, was a bit trickier. She had a meltdown of unworldly proportions and we were almost deemed horrible parents for breaking the news while she was close to 600 miles away.
When we were plagued by a second pet's death less than a month later Olivia was back at home and unfortunately along with us had to bear witness to the little guy drawing his last breath. She was heartbroken as were Jon and I but seemed to process it and deal with it fairly well considering it was her dog. We didn't tell Hannah this time and instead saved the news for when Jon could be there with her. She was upset, but took the news far better because she had Jon there to hold on to.
So with death and shots my plan of honesty has been doing pretty good with preparing the girls with the realities of life. When it comes to heartbreak though, I've had a bit harder time sticking to my rule.
As the minutes and hours have turned into days, weeks and now months of Jon and I grappling with the state of our marriage, one of the things that has weighed heavily upon my mind and heart has been my kids. What to tell them and when. Olivia being older and of the mentality of tell it to me now and let me process it myself I chose to be a bit more forthcoming with her. Hannah being the baby and the one that would rather not know something until it's actual, factual and has already taken place has been pretty much left in the dark although I know she's not blind or deaf to the amount of tension and arguing that goes on between her father and I.
Tonight though I was backed into a corner while we sat at Sonic to pick up something to eat. Hannha had just returned from a weekend soccer tournament with Jon and I was taking her for ice cream. While we waited for our food she began to ask questions. I figured they would come seeing as Jon and I had a rather loud verbal exhange within minutes of him coming in the door. It's sad that after 30+ hours apart we couldn't make it a full 30 seconds without launching into a disagreement.
The questions came quietly and timidly from the backseat.
Hannah: Mom, are you and Dad angry at each other?
Me: (don't lie, don't lie, don't lie) Yes.
Hannah: How is that even possible...you like, just saw each other?
Me: (don't lie, don't get defensive, don't lie) Well Hannah ya know how sometimes you and your friends don't get along...even when you haven't seen each other in a day or two?
Hannah: Um, yea....
Me: (don't get defensive, be honest, don't snap at her) Well, me and your dad are like that right now...we aren't getting along....
Silence falls uncomfortably in the car and then the food comes. I contemplate just letting the discussion go but as I look into the rearview mirror I can see tears in the corners of her eyes and I know there is more she wants to say. Part of me wants to scream at her to just stop it and let it go, but then I have to remember that she is only 10yrs old and this very much affects her life. Be honest, I keep reminding myself. Be honest in 10yr old terms...don't lie.
I remember back to when I was younger, after my sister had been killed and my parents would argue so much that I thought they would never get along again, I take a deep breath focus on that feeling as probably the one that she is having at this very moment and hope for the best.
Me: Hannah, if you have something on your mind that you want to ask me or talk about you should just put it out there. No matter what it is, I will answer you honestly and I won't be angry...I promise.
Hannah: (hesitant but looking very determined) Are you and Dad gonna split up?
Me: I don't know Hannah and that's the truth.
Hannah: Ok. But....ummmm.....but.....
Me: Hannah whatever it is just ask me.
Hannah: Do you still love him?
Me: Very much.
Hannah: Does he love you?
Me: Yes.
Hannah: I don't get it. If he loves you and you love him then why do you fight ALL of the time.
Me: Because sometimes people that love one another have things that take place that make them so angry that it becomes difficult to just be happy loving the other person. You want to know that the person you love is being honest with you and if you think that they aren't or know that they aren't it tends to make it very difficult to just be happy being in love.
Hannah: Oh. Well, hmmmm.....do you think you guys could, ya know...just work it out or something cause I'm tired of listening to you not get along and I'm sure Olivia is tired of it and well....yeah....you guys should just work it out.
I sat quiet for a really long time. Hannah didn't even seem to notice because she was over the moon for her Oreo ice cream blast. Then she spoke again.
Hannah: Mom?
Me: Yeah Han.
Hannah: I'm sorry I asked about you and dad.
Me: Hannah, don't apologize. You have a right to know what is going on to a point. I know that these things affect your life.
Hannah: I know. But the reason I said that I was sorry was because you looked really happy before I asked you. Like...just sitting here you and me...you looked happy.
Me: Well I am happy just sitting here you and me (I let my face break into a goofy smile to get her to laugh).
Hannah: (she chuckels at my face and then turns serious again) I know....but I think you were happy because dad wasn't here.
Me: (unable to speak)
Hannah: It was nice to see you happy for once.
Silence became all consuming and the only thing I could hear was her scraping ice cream out of her cup and the wheels of the skating car hops.
See, that's the trouble with truth telling...it brings with it a whole new line of questions.
~JP
Simple right? Wrong.
The easiest of my "promise" seemed to be the shots. From the time they were babies I'd tell them these words before shots, "big stick, bee sting, cuddles and then a prize". It served me well for the most part. The only time it truly backfired on me was when the girls needed to get their shots up to date for school here in Louisiana. I inadvertently mixed up who needed what shots when I was preparing them with the whole "big stick, bee sting...." yada yada yada. I had told Olivia she would be getting one shot and that Hannah needed three.
Olivia, while she was not overly joyed about needing any was completely over the moon with the idea of torturing her baby sister who'd have to be stuck not once, not twice but three whole times. "That's two more than meeee"...she sing songed all through our wait time. She'd reach over and pinch her baby sister which would send Hannah to wailing and then Olivia would say..."oh come on...that's just one stick...imagine three of those back to back", and so on and so forth.
There was two things that Olivia didn't count on and they were karma and my ability to keep the kids shot records straight. When Olivia galantly led her little sister to the slaughter...ergh, I mean chair, she all but passed out when the nurse stuck Hannah once then released her from the seat and handed her a lolly proclaiming that she had been a "very big girl" and that she was "all done". Those two phrases and the fact that Hannah knew the difference between her getting three and her only getting one. She'd done the quick math and trained her eyes on her sister. Olivia chose that exact moment to turn into a psychotic animal who first tried to run out of the building but was strong armed by Jon and then as she wailed like a banshee she attempted to hold onto the door while bracing her feet against the frame.
Yeah, my honesty about shots wasn't going too well on this occasion. All Jon and I could do after they were finally able to immunize her, was to walk out shaking our heads and apologizing to every one we came in contact with in the building. I do believe we apologized to a janitor that day and to be honest with the way our kid was screaming I think he appreciated it.
My first go around with using honesty in regards to death of a loved one was when my grandmother died and my oldest was on a Girl Scout camping trip. It's not that Olivia hadn't dealt with death before, on the contrary actually...the poor kid had her 7th birthday postponed because my grandfather, her great grandfather, bit the proverbial dust. Nothing like blowing out the candle on your one piece of restaurant cake while the entire family is gathered sniveling and trading stories of the dearly departed at an elongated table of a bar & grill that just happened to be conveniently located next to the funeral home. Well that and the fact that she was actually at the nursing home visiting him with my parents when he died. Yep, that's definitely one for the scrapbook!
While I rushed to Florida to console my mother and help with the funeral arrangements, poor Jon had to make up some kind of song and dance about where I was when she returned from camp so as to allow us both to be there to break the news to her. From that experience I learned never to wait 5 days until I am in the same state to break news of that magnitude. While she was upset about her great grandmothers passing she was more upset that she was not notified immediately. Jon and I learned that Olivia was not one of those kids that dealt well with being the last to know anything. Hell, if we run out of toilet paper you better go notify her first or else there will be an issue. That's just her thing. She likes to be in the loop.
On the other end of the spectrum is Hannah. When my first min pin Aden passed away suddenly over the summer while the girls were away we made a point to tell them both. Fearing a repeat of great grandma and the wrath of Olivia not being notified we figured that honesty when the event took place was the best policy. With Olivia that was fine. She took the news, was saddened and moved on. Hannah on the other hand who had been too young to really comprehend the news of her great grandmother's death, when it occured, was a bit trickier. She had a meltdown of unworldly proportions and we were almost deemed horrible parents for breaking the news while she was close to 600 miles away.
When we were plagued by a second pet's death less than a month later Olivia was back at home and unfortunately along with us had to bear witness to the little guy drawing his last breath. She was heartbroken as were Jon and I but seemed to process it and deal with it fairly well considering it was her dog. We didn't tell Hannah this time and instead saved the news for when Jon could be there with her. She was upset, but took the news far better because she had Jon there to hold on to.
So with death and shots my plan of honesty has been doing pretty good with preparing the girls with the realities of life. When it comes to heartbreak though, I've had a bit harder time sticking to my rule.
As the minutes and hours have turned into days, weeks and now months of Jon and I grappling with the state of our marriage, one of the things that has weighed heavily upon my mind and heart has been my kids. What to tell them and when. Olivia being older and of the mentality of tell it to me now and let me process it myself I chose to be a bit more forthcoming with her. Hannah being the baby and the one that would rather not know something until it's actual, factual and has already taken place has been pretty much left in the dark although I know she's not blind or deaf to the amount of tension and arguing that goes on between her father and I.
Tonight though I was backed into a corner while we sat at Sonic to pick up something to eat. Hannha had just returned from a weekend soccer tournament with Jon and I was taking her for ice cream. While we waited for our food she began to ask questions. I figured they would come seeing as Jon and I had a rather loud verbal exhange within minutes of him coming in the door. It's sad that after 30+ hours apart we couldn't make it a full 30 seconds without launching into a disagreement.
The questions came quietly and timidly from the backseat.
Hannah: Mom, are you and Dad angry at each other?
Me: (don't lie, don't lie, don't lie) Yes.
Hannah: How is that even possible...you like, just saw each other?
Me: (don't lie, don't get defensive, don't lie) Well Hannah ya know how sometimes you and your friends don't get along...even when you haven't seen each other in a day or two?
Hannah: Um, yea....
Me: (don't get defensive, be honest, don't snap at her) Well, me and your dad are like that right now...we aren't getting along....
Silence falls uncomfortably in the car and then the food comes. I contemplate just letting the discussion go but as I look into the rearview mirror I can see tears in the corners of her eyes and I know there is more she wants to say. Part of me wants to scream at her to just stop it and let it go, but then I have to remember that she is only 10yrs old and this very much affects her life. Be honest, I keep reminding myself. Be honest in 10yr old terms...don't lie.
I remember back to when I was younger, after my sister had been killed and my parents would argue so much that I thought they would never get along again, I take a deep breath focus on that feeling as probably the one that she is having at this very moment and hope for the best.
Me: Hannah, if you have something on your mind that you want to ask me or talk about you should just put it out there. No matter what it is, I will answer you honestly and I won't be angry...I promise.
Hannah: (hesitant but looking very determined) Are you and Dad gonna split up?
Me: I don't know Hannah and that's the truth.
Hannah: Ok. But....ummmm.....but.....
Me: Hannah whatever it is just ask me.
Hannah: Do you still love him?
Me: Very much.
Hannah: Does he love you?
Me: Yes.
Hannah: I don't get it. If he loves you and you love him then why do you fight ALL of the time.
Me: Because sometimes people that love one another have things that take place that make them so angry that it becomes difficult to just be happy loving the other person. You want to know that the person you love is being honest with you and if you think that they aren't or know that they aren't it tends to make it very difficult to just be happy being in love.
Hannah: Oh. Well, hmmmm.....do you think you guys could, ya know...just work it out or something cause I'm tired of listening to you not get along and I'm sure Olivia is tired of it and well....yeah....you guys should just work it out.
I sat quiet for a really long time. Hannah didn't even seem to notice because she was over the moon for her Oreo ice cream blast. Then she spoke again.
Hannah: Mom?
Me: Yeah Han.
Hannah: I'm sorry I asked about you and dad.
Me: Hannah, don't apologize. You have a right to know what is going on to a point. I know that these things affect your life.
Hannah: I know. But the reason I said that I was sorry was because you looked really happy before I asked you. Like...just sitting here you and me...you looked happy.
Me: Well I am happy just sitting here you and me (I let my face break into a goofy smile to get her to laugh).
Hannah: (she chuckels at my face and then turns serious again) I know....but I think you were happy because dad wasn't here.
Me: (unable to speak)
Hannah: It was nice to see you happy for once.
Silence became all consuming and the only thing I could hear was her scraping ice cream out of her cup and the wheels of the skating car hops.
See, that's the trouble with truth telling...it brings with it a whole new line of questions.
~JP
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