Let's all just say we're surprised by Brit' and KFed's divorce-- not. Generally, I really don't care much for her or what she does.
But when I read some of the very funny press about it, I often chuckle to myself about how much Brit and I have in common these days. One of them said something about how she flicked him off like a dried booger from her collar. I was in stitches!
She supported her husband until he had his chance at a paying job, and her two baby boys. He thanked her for her generosity by partying with others.
Odd parallels, Brit and I-- except for the bank account and personal trainer-- I bet my boobs are bigger and (with practice) I'd like to think I could sing better, too.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Thursday, November 09, 2006
The Healthcare Crisis
Now, don't think, in light of the election that I'm going to get all political.
One of my jobs is to make sure that our HR system runs smoothly. One of my other jobs is to communicate. That said, I spend two months a year reminding people that they're going to have to make benefit choices, two weeks a year actually begging them to do it, two weeks a year listening to every lame ass excuse under the sun about why THAT two week period just didn't work for them while simultaneously trying to make the data do exactly what I want.
We are officially in the latter two weeks. Aside from the 'I was on vacation on the moon without hope of Internet access, and I didn't know it was open enrollment because I was in a coma and all of your e-mail goes to my SPAM folder' excuses, I fight with the system. The vendor makes upgrades and you have to change your approach every year. I have mastered playing in the test database.
Given all that has been going on, I've begun again collecting meaningful quotes, and lots of folks are sending them to me.
Early this week, I got this gem:
"The only courage you will ever need is the courage to live your heart's desire."
How often we wish for another chance
One of my jobs is to make sure that our HR system runs smoothly. One of my other jobs is to communicate. That said, I spend two months a year reminding people that they're going to have to make benefit choices, two weeks a year actually begging them to do it, two weeks a year listening to every lame ass excuse under the sun about why THAT two week period just didn't work for them while simultaneously trying to make the data do exactly what I want.
We are officially in the latter two weeks. Aside from the 'I was on vacation on the moon without hope of Internet access, and I didn't know it was open enrollment because I was in a coma and all of your e-mail goes to my SPAM folder' excuses, I fight with the system. The vendor makes upgrades and you have to change your approach every year. I have mastered playing in the test database.
Given all that has been going on, I've begun again collecting meaningful quotes, and lots of folks are sending them to me.
Early this week, I got this gem:
"The only courage you will ever need is the courage to live your heart's desire."
-Oprah Winfrey
So I wrote it on a sticky on my monitor and read it every day.
Today, because it is handwritten, I unconsciously read:
"The only coverage you will ever need is the coverage to live your heart's desire...."
Totally insane, right? How could I mistake a 'u' for a 'v' ? Is my heart's desire to jump from an airplane or something? Am I just over this whole benefits thing? YOU BETCHA!
So, actually, there were two quotes I got yesterday from my old friend, TEEK:
This one smacked me right between the eyes:
"Our dependency makes slaves out of us, especially if this dependency is a dependency of our self-esteem. If you need encouragement, praise, pats on the back from everybody, then you make everybody your judge."
...and if anyone cares to recommend a pill or a class or a course of action to help me kick that dependency, I could soooo use it right now.
...then this one....
Helen Steiner Rice
How often we wish for another chance
to make a fresh beginning.
A chance to blot out our mistakes
And change failure into winning.
It does not take a new day
To make a brand new start,
It only takes a deep desire
To try with all our heart.
To live a little better
And to always be forgiving
And to add a little sunshine
To the world in which we're living.
So never give up in despair
And think that you are through,
For there's always a tomorrow
And the hope of starting new.
Giving up has never and will never be an option for me, but these days, I'm having trouble finding the sunshine. For no specific reason. Can't figure it out.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Because if you can't have the Boobies you might as well have hair
Tippytornado and I took a shower this morning. Generally pretty benign conversation:
"No wash my hair!"
"You need to have the chocolate removed"
"No wash my hair! My eyes! Soap! Soap!"
You get the picture.
So, I'm toweling off and the questions begin:
"Why you use two towels?"
"Because I have long hair. You don't so you can use just your Nemo towel"
"Your hair is big?"
"Yes my hair is big."
"Your boobies are big."
"Yes, they are."
"My boobies are little."
"Yes, you are a little boy and little boys don't have boobies like mommys do."
"I have big boobies when I grow bigger."
"Only girls have big boobies, you're a boy and you'll never have big boobies."
In my head, of course I'm praying-- Please God don't let him ever have boobies either by fat or surgery.
"(little red haired boy from daycare)* has little boobies."
"Yep. He's a boy."
"Gigglychatterbox* has little boobies and she a girl."
In my head - Oh crap.
"Little girls have little boobies but when they grow big they grow big boobies."
Tippytornado thoughtfully pauses while I carry him to the bed to dress him.
"When I bigger, I have long hair."
Long hair or boobies? HMMMMM. Which would I prefer my son to have????
*Duh! names changed to protect the innocent!
"No wash my hair!"
"You need to have the chocolate removed"
"No wash my hair! My eyes! Soap! Soap!"
You get the picture.
So, I'm toweling off and the questions begin:
"Why you use two towels?"
"Because I have long hair. You don't so you can use just your Nemo towel"
"Your hair is big?"
"Yes my hair is big."
"Your boobies are big."
"Yes, they are."
"My boobies are little."
"Yes, you are a little boy and little boys don't have boobies like mommys do."
"I have big boobies when I grow bigger."
"Only girls have big boobies, you're a boy and you'll never have big boobies."
In my head, of course I'm praying-- Please God don't let him ever have boobies either by fat or surgery.
"(little red haired boy from daycare)* has little boobies."
"Yep. He's a boy."
"Gigglychatterbox* has little boobies and she a girl."
In my head - Oh crap.
"Little girls have little boobies but when they grow big they grow big boobies."
Tippytornado thoughtfully pauses while I carry him to the bed to dress him.
"When I bigger, I have long hair."
Long hair or boobies? HMMMMM. Which would I prefer my son to have????
*Duh! names changed to protect the innocent!
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
The Silence is Deafening
While for years I craved alone time in my house, to clean, to get things in order-- there is actually a point where I can clean no more.
I can watch movies and crochet scarves for needy children.
I can go to the museums in downtown DC and check out the art work that I've been dying to see.
I can finally go to The Edgar Allen Poe house in Baltimore.
I can't focus on finding a partner because there are 328 more days until I'm free. I can't be the valedictorian of healing unless I use this 328 days wisely. I'm so lucky to have very wise, kind people in my life to remind me of my value and the value of those 328 days. If the Maven and GMan can find each other, there must be hope for me.
On the flip side, Angry Man has stopped attacking me verbally. We actually got along quite well at Karateboy's competition on Saturday. Karateboy won 2nd place in forms and 3rd place in breaking. We're all very proud-- and last night was the first night he slept without the trophies.
As for Angry Man, either he's finally putting his head on straight or he's mounting an attack. I know he's questioning everything we ever had in our relationship, and it is really sad to see him take the good memories and ruin them. I also heard that there might be a special someone in his life. I hope someone wise tells him about the 328 days of healing before he has to learn the hard way--- like I did.
I can watch movies and crochet scarves for needy children.
I can go to the museums in downtown DC and check out the art work that I've been dying to see.
I can finally go to The Edgar Allen Poe house in Baltimore.
I can't focus on finding a partner because there are 328 more days until I'm free. I can't be the valedictorian of healing unless I use this 328 days wisely. I'm so lucky to have very wise, kind people in my life to remind me of my value and the value of those 328 days. If the Maven and GMan can find each other, there must be hope for me.
On the flip side, Angry Man has stopped attacking me verbally. We actually got along quite well at Karateboy's competition on Saturday. Karateboy won 2nd place in forms and 3rd place in breaking. We're all very proud-- and last night was the first night he slept without the trophies.
As for Angry Man, either he's finally putting his head on straight or he's mounting an attack. I know he's questioning everything we ever had in our relationship, and it is really sad to see him take the good memories and ruin them. I also heard that there might be a special someone in his life. I hope someone wise tells him about the 328 days of healing before he has to learn the hard way--- like I did.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Pictures
OK GMAN...you want it, you got it. I just couldn't get a good picture of my mother as Mickey Mouse, though. But I think I have to try tonight.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Happy Halloweeeeeen!!
I'm sitting in front of my house in my Elastigirl ( the mom from the Incredibles) costume. Sitting next to Tippytornado resplendent in his green Power Rangers outfit -- with muscles.
But the costume the neighbors are coming to see is my mother's--- She's Mickey Mouse. There really is nothing funnier than a 250 pound mouse with big floppy ears. She's so funny.
We are really enjoying the day as Angry Man and Karateboy are scouring the rest of the neighborhood for another 60 pounds of candy.
What do I do with the candy?
Guess what's in the pinata's for the boys' birthday parties??? Yep I recycle my Halloween candy. Even at one piece a day, they'd have enough candy to last 'till Easter. I much prefer sharing the wealth in the pinata fund.
Tippytornado made it through two cul-de-sacs before he was too tired to go on. And now he's trying to poke my eyes through my mask. Perhaps he should have a third piece of candy...
But the costume the neighbors are coming to see is my mother's--- She's Mickey Mouse. There really is nothing funnier than a 250 pound mouse with big floppy ears. She's so funny.
We are really enjoying the day as Angry Man and Karateboy are scouring the rest of the neighborhood for another 60 pounds of candy.
What do I do with the candy?
Guess what's in the pinata's for the boys' birthday parties??? Yep I recycle my Halloween candy. Even at one piece a day, they'd have enough candy to last 'till Easter. I much prefer sharing the wealth in the pinata fund.
Tippytornado made it through two cul-de-sacs before he was too tired to go on. And now he's trying to poke my eyes through my mask. Perhaps he should have a third piece of candy...
Monday, October 30, 2006
Long Time, No Posts
Well, I gave up posting because all I could seem to talk about is Eyore...who has pronounced from the rooftops that he is no longer wimpy 'Eyore'. No we all get to see what his 'Angry Little Man' looks like. However, to protect my legal rights, I can't post about him or my dating exploits until all the dust settles. Let me tell you, it's JUICY!
Mad props to Turtle Bertle for giving birth to a bouncing baby boy two weeks ago....on her birthday.....Because there is life (as in sex) after 30 !!!
Also props to GMAN for finding his writing groove in the blog world.
Jaybird.....still don't know who you are and can't seem to remember ANYONE who slept on my floor. Sorry.
Some sites that make me smile these days..... Mighty Goods -- because you can never have too many cool dodads....and Post Secret -- because what people leave out are the most interesting thoughts of all.
The boys are just fine. Karateboy's school behavior has been average (WHOO HOO AVERAGE!) and lost a front tooth. Obviously the most handsome kid around. Tippytornado is waaaay verbal (don't know where he gets that from) and slowly taking over the universe as is his role as the second born.
Thanks to all for your thoughts and prayers. We are keepin' our chins up !! :-)
Mad props to Turtle Bertle for giving birth to a bouncing baby boy two weeks ago....on her birthday.....Because there is life (as in sex) after 30 !!!
Also props to GMAN for finding his writing groove in the blog world.
Jaybird.....still don't know who you are and can't seem to remember ANYONE who slept on my floor. Sorry.
Some sites that make me smile these days..... Mighty Goods -- because you can never have too many cool dodads....and Post Secret -- because what people leave out are the most interesting thoughts of all.
The boys are just fine. Karateboy's school behavior has been average (WHOO HOO AVERAGE!) and lost a front tooth. Obviously the most handsome kid around. Tippytornado is waaaay verbal (don't know where he gets that from) and slowly taking over the universe as is his role as the second born.
Thanks to all for your thoughts and prayers. We are keepin' our chins up !! :-)
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Lessons Learned
When I started this blog, I felt like I needed to tell people what was going on so I didn't feel so much like a failure and falling apart. The public support has carried me through.
I'm over that now (blog therapy, if you will) and only have occasional moments of fear and anxiety. Thanks to everyone, even Eyore who gave me some drama to process over. I didn't feel alone for a single moment and knew I could turn to any of you the minute I needed it. I couldn't be more fortunate.
Eyore and I are having actual conversations that don't involve name calling, so that is a great step forward for us. We're getting the legal part in order and painfully ending what would have been 13 years of marriage. We'd been a couple since 10/7/1990. It's been 16 years, about half of my life. Whole new habits to develop, like what to do the weekends he has the kids and on Tuesday and Thursday nights.
I've learned a heap of lessons, not only in my relationship with him but also in the ending of it. The hardest part is watching someone I still care about in the worst kind of pain, knowing that I have the power to end it (of course, at my own expense) , and fighting myself every day to not give in the way I had so many times in the past.
The problem is, I ended up resenting Eyore for what I perceived as a sacrifice and that just wasn't fair at all. I should have been more honest with myself and him when I took my wedding band off.
So mentally, I'm a little further ahead than most because I took my wedding band off not just as a symbolic act, but also as an emotional separation more than a year ago.
I've decided to move on, and carefully consider my future options. With Eyore's permission, I'm seeing someone this weekend. My natural inclination is to blog endlessly and obsess about the details publicly.
I'm not going to do that. Out of respect for Eyore and our children, I think the details should be just for me (and the special guy, of course). There will be no scoring system, I've already screwed the pooch on my baseline criteria, anyway. Maybe there is should be something in my life that I haven't over-analyzed and carefully planned in a spreadsheet.
My goal will be to not fall into all the same behaviors and traps I created for myself with Eyore. He was right, it does take two to tango, and I should have been more well-behaved very early in our relationship- it just snowballed year after year. As much as I want to count the points for youth and inexperience (I was 20 when we married), I didn't do a very good job of turning it around even as I matured.
The future looks bright, I'm just going to take it one day at a time and work hard at feeling like I deserve it. I need to allow myself to make a few more mistakes in the process so that maybe some day I can settle down with a partner and live the rest of my life. Focus on the children and work should do the trick and the rest will happen if it is meant to happen.
That's my strategy and I'm stickin' to it.
I'm over that now (blog therapy, if you will) and only have occasional moments of fear and anxiety. Thanks to everyone, even Eyore who gave me some drama to process over. I didn't feel alone for a single moment and knew I could turn to any of you the minute I needed it. I couldn't be more fortunate.
Eyore and I are having actual conversations that don't involve name calling, so that is a great step forward for us. We're getting the legal part in order and painfully ending what would have been 13 years of marriage. We'd been a couple since 10/7/1990. It's been 16 years, about half of my life. Whole new habits to develop, like what to do the weekends he has the kids and on Tuesday and Thursday nights.
I've learned a heap of lessons, not only in my relationship with him but also in the ending of it. The hardest part is watching someone I still care about in the worst kind of pain, knowing that I have the power to end it (of course, at my own expense) , and fighting myself every day to not give in the way I had so many times in the past.
The problem is, I ended up resenting Eyore for what I perceived as a sacrifice and that just wasn't fair at all. I should have been more honest with myself and him when I took my wedding band off.
So mentally, I'm a little further ahead than most because I took my wedding band off not just as a symbolic act, but also as an emotional separation more than a year ago.
I've decided to move on, and carefully consider my future options. With Eyore's permission, I'm seeing someone this weekend. My natural inclination is to blog endlessly and obsess about the details publicly.
I'm not going to do that. Out of respect for Eyore and our children, I think the details should be just for me (and the special guy, of course). There will be no scoring system, I've already screwed the pooch on my baseline criteria, anyway. Maybe there is should be something in my life that I haven't over-analyzed and carefully planned in a spreadsheet.
My goal will be to not fall into all the same behaviors and traps I created for myself with Eyore. He was right, it does take two to tango, and I should have been more well-behaved very early in our relationship- it just snowballed year after year. As much as I want to count the points for youth and inexperience (I was 20 when we married), I didn't do a very good job of turning it around even as I matured.
The future looks bright, I'm just going to take it one day at a time and work hard at feeling like I deserve it. I need to allow myself to make a few more mistakes in the process so that maybe some day I can settle down with a partner and live the rest of my life. Focus on the children and work should do the trick and the rest will happen if it is meant to happen.
That's my strategy and I'm stickin' to it.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Who am I?
First, this is not a post about any kind of personality crisis, but I do feel a transformation coming on, and given all the recent and ongoing drama (because what ISN'T being posted here is infinitely more juicy) I just have to ask...
How would you describe me?
Now, I'm not asking for honey-soaked affirmations of your love for me. God knows I can't take that in right now. (A woman at work SWEARS I look like Reese Witherspoon, does that mean I qualify for a Ryan Phillipe model partner? Because I could work with those pouty lips. I could.)
Good, bad, objective is my goal. Balancing my yin and yang so to speak. Tell me how you would describe me to someone who doesn't know me. Not just the I'm-in-the-middle-of-this-divorce-mess me. All of me.
I'm hoping that reading that will help me re-center a bit with my head in the right place so I can focus on my personal priorities to myself (not to be confused with my life priorities that are very clearly my sweet bundles of joy and keeping a roof over their fabulous heads).
I want to get back to being more than the I'm-in-the-middle-of-this-divorce-mess me. Be brief, though, we'll all get sick of reading lengthy tomes.
Oh, and who are you? There are quite a few folks who've commented that I don't know, but my sisters and I keep having suspicions. ...tell me who you are! Give me a clue!
How would you describe me?
Now, I'm not asking for honey-soaked affirmations of your love for me. God knows I can't take that in right now. (A woman at work SWEARS I look like Reese Witherspoon, does that mean I qualify for a Ryan Phillipe model partner? Because I could work with those pouty lips. I could.)
Good, bad, objective is my goal. Balancing my yin and yang so to speak. Tell me how you would describe me to someone who doesn't know me. Not just the I'm-in-the-middle-of-this-divorce-mess me. All of me.
I'm hoping that reading that will help me re-center a bit with my head in the right place so I can focus on my personal priorities to myself (not to be confused with my life priorities that are very clearly my sweet bundles of joy and keeping a roof over their fabulous heads).
I want to get back to being more than the I'm-in-the-middle-of-this-divorce-mess me. Be brief, though, we'll all get sick of reading lengthy tomes.
Oh, and who are you? There are quite a few folks who've commented that I don't know, but my sisters and I keep having suspicions. ...tell me who you are! Give me a clue!
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Going to work...
As anyone who has kids knows, getting the troupe out the door in the morning is a job in itself. Get dressed! Where are your shoes! Why aren't you eating?
So, Tippytornado, in his attempts to prove, "I bigger now" put on his backpack, and loaded himself into the van (helping himself to some gum in the meantime)
I dropped off Karateboy...donning his dress shirt and tie for picture day (Last year he announced, "Mommy, I'm a tie man now."
We got to Tippy's babysitter and I got him out of the van and noticed his baby doll stroller was in there, with baby Ryan securely buckled in place. How, at his size, he maneuvered all this stuff in the van was truly amazing to me.
I know it is odd enough that my nearly three year old has a doll, but it is a BOY doll and he swings it around by it's ankles almost as often as he rocks it to sleep and gives it hugs and kisses. (If you still think we're freaky, please read 'William's Doll' by Charlotte Zolotow, then call me and we'll weep together for all those little boys who never had a doll and had to learn to be fathers the hard way) Plus, his best friend is a girl, and they play Power Rangers with the babies together.
I took the stroller out of the van and 13 Matchbox cars spilled from the storage area under the seat. In a skirt and heels, in the street, with people all over the place, I'm running around trying to grab these little wheeled monsters before the rolled into the gutter-- or I got hit by a car. Surely it was a sight.
I stood up, pulled my skirt back down where it belonged and pranced with my precious baby to his sitter's door while he pushed his carriage-- complete with babies and matchbox cars.
So, Tippytornado, in his attempts to prove, "I bigger now" put on his backpack, and loaded himself into the van (helping himself to some gum in the meantime)
I dropped off Karateboy...donning his dress shirt and tie for picture day (Last year he announced, "Mommy, I'm a tie man now."
We got to Tippy's babysitter and I got him out of the van and noticed his baby doll stroller was in there, with baby Ryan securely buckled in place. How, at his size, he maneuvered all this stuff in the van was truly amazing to me.
I know it is odd enough that my nearly three year old has a doll, but it is a BOY doll and he swings it around by it's ankles almost as often as he rocks it to sleep and gives it hugs and kisses. (If you still think we're freaky, please read 'William's Doll' by Charlotte Zolotow, then call me and we'll weep together for all those little boys who never had a doll and had to learn to be fathers the hard way) Plus, his best friend is a girl, and they play Power Rangers with the babies together.
I took the stroller out of the van and 13 Matchbox cars spilled from the storage area under the seat. In a skirt and heels, in the street, with people all over the place, I'm running around trying to grab these little wheeled monsters before the rolled into the gutter-- or I got hit by a car. Surely it was a sight.
I stood up, pulled my skirt back down where it belonged and pranced with my precious baby to his sitter's door while he pushed his carriage-- complete with babies and matchbox cars.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Pain
I worked out tonight so usually I'm on quite the high. Not so tonight.
So, I thought I'd share one of my favorite poems.
ChristiansBy Maya Angelou
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin'.
"I'm whispering "I was lost,
I'm found and forgiven."
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
And need His strength to carry on.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
'm just a simple sinner
Who received God's good grace, somehow!
So, I thought I'd share one of my favorite poems.
ChristiansBy Maya Angelou
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin'.
"I'm whispering "I was lost,
I'm found and forgiven."
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
And need His strength to carry on.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
'm just a simple sinner
Who received God's good grace, somehow!
Don't make me do it!
Ya'll done lost yer minds. Don't make me turn on COMMENT MODERATION! Do you know what that means? That would mean that I'd have to read each of your comments and decide if I want to publish them. DO YOU THINK I HAVE TIME FOR THAT KIND OF BABYSITTING?
This was a place to keep my friends up to date on my status, without having to repeat myself. It is an outlet for me of what I feel at that moment. For those of you who know me, that is subject to change the very next moment.
I felt very violated when Eyore found out about this blog. It was a somewhat private diary that I was sharing with my friends. It has become an outlet for much more, and the support that you, my peeps, my sistas, have given me is worth all the tea in the east.
HOWEVER, Eyore is hurt. For the sake of my children, he needs your compassion.
While I have had 2 1/2 years to come to terms with the idea that my marriage was over, he's just getting there. To hear someone say they don't want you is the worst sound to hear. He's not dealing with it well, and I'm doing the best I can to protect my spirit.
I told my wise counselor yesterday that I felt like a tree trying to stretch its limbs and each time Eyore picked at me a bit of bark was ripped off. That is the truest of true analogies.
We've got to sort this out and both face a whole new reality. It will be easier for us both to move forward if the crap stops. I think the posts over the last few days have been a clear picture of the fine line between love and hate for Eyore. The end of our marriage was not fireworks or an explosion but a smoldering fire that just pooped out. I chose not to work on it anymore because nothing seemed to work and he didn't see that anything was wrong and felt powerless to change it. I'm one intimidating bitch, but I have a very squishy heart. Which is why it has taken 13+ years to get my ass in gear on this.
Please have some compassion for the man that I used to love and who my children love deeply. He's broke and grieving and needs to heal. He promises to lay off my family....because I can be a whole lot more harsh about his. But I haven't mentioned them at all. I know that when I'm in need, my family and friends surround and carry me (thank you very much) and he doesn't have that. He's pretty darn alone. Feel compassionate about that.
Blessings and Peace to you all. I said PEACE!!
(you have to admit, that if you know me, the comment about 'put that in spreadsheet and smoke it' was very funny and witty and quite appropriate for me!)
This was a place to keep my friends up to date on my status, without having to repeat myself. It is an outlet for me of what I feel at that moment. For those of you who know me, that is subject to change the very next moment.
I felt very violated when Eyore found out about this blog. It was a somewhat private diary that I was sharing with my friends. It has become an outlet for much more, and the support that you, my peeps, my sistas, have given me is worth all the tea in the east.
HOWEVER, Eyore is hurt. For the sake of my children, he needs your compassion.
While I have had 2 1/2 years to come to terms with the idea that my marriage was over, he's just getting there. To hear someone say they don't want you is the worst sound to hear. He's not dealing with it well, and I'm doing the best I can to protect my spirit.
I told my wise counselor yesterday that I felt like a tree trying to stretch its limbs and each time Eyore picked at me a bit of bark was ripped off. That is the truest of true analogies.
We've got to sort this out and both face a whole new reality. It will be easier for us both to move forward if the crap stops. I think the posts over the last few days have been a clear picture of the fine line between love and hate for Eyore. The end of our marriage was not fireworks or an explosion but a smoldering fire that just pooped out. I chose not to work on it anymore because nothing seemed to work and he didn't see that anything was wrong and felt powerless to change it. I'm one intimidating bitch, but I have a very squishy heart. Which is why it has taken 13+ years to get my ass in gear on this.
Please have some compassion for the man that I used to love and who my children love deeply. He's broke and grieving and needs to heal. He promises to lay off my family....because I can be a whole lot more harsh about his. But I haven't mentioned them at all. I know that when I'm in need, my family and friends surround and carry me (thank you very much) and he doesn't have that. He's pretty darn alone. Feel compassionate about that.
Blessings and Peace to you all. I said PEACE!!
(you have to admit, that if you know me, the comment about 'put that in spreadsheet and smoke it' was very funny and witty and quite appropriate for me!)
Monday, October 09, 2006
Lawyer up!
It has been no secret that I had been in touch with a lawyer and that as soon as Dan moved out I was pursuing a legal agreement. I even told him her name.
My attempt was to come to an agreement outside the attorneys so that we don't waste time and money, then each of us would have our own attorneys review the document and sign.
It seems that Eyore has moved into the anger stage of his grief. He's left me vile messages about how he hates me and never wants to deal with me again. That didn't stop him from leaving a second message that he's demanding the boys this weekend and next.
When I returned the call to discuss the time, etc., he screamed and yelled and fought and was mean. He doesn't know the time, and he's going to get a lawyer. I asked him for the name so that I could give him mine's name. He doesn't have one yet. He called back 3 times to 'deal' with me again. Apparently I'm a frigid, two faced bitch.
His friend that visited us from Arizona a few weeks ago has been supportive of him and is surprised because she sensed nothing wrong during her 4 hour visit. Conversely, Eyore has said repeatedly that the reason he was an ass is because I would disparage him and pick fights in front of other people. He said it was his way of getting back at me. So, I'm confused, was I the supportive smiling wife for his visiting friend OR was I the hanged-tooth bitch in front of others?
I'm concerned about the behavior. I think he's lost his mind. He was almost two hours late picking them up yesterday and didn't bring them home until after 9:30PM. He let Karateboy watch some show called Mr. Meaty --which is on Nicklodeon but still gave him nightmares. Something about a boy with a tapeworm. He was also driving like a maniac and was angry at me just because I looked at him.
I think he's dangerous and he's mad at me for that, too. He doesn't understand why I don't want to be married to him, and yet he's making my case very, very publicly.
Minutes ago, a message at work about how he wants all the jewelry he ever gave me. OK. Let me have everything I ever bought you.... :-). He complains about material things, but I understand he's got a right to stuff. Stuff, I don't care about. The draft my attorney is working on even stipulates that he can have what he wants. Stuff means nothing to me. Except now that he's stooped so low that he's leaving nasty messages everywhere. I was only going to put all the jewelry in a safe deposit box for the boys in the future, anyway.
I'm not sure what's funnier, that he accuses me of being materialistic and HE demands stuff or thinking about what the hell he's going to do with a couple of necklace and earrings sets.
He was right in his post, "I a ass". I think he's right and until he calms down, he's not getting anywhere near my kids. Please just pray he comes to his senses before he totally screws himself and maybe puts my kids in danger.
My attempt was to come to an agreement outside the attorneys so that we don't waste time and money, then each of us would have our own attorneys review the document and sign.
It seems that Eyore has moved into the anger stage of his grief. He's left me vile messages about how he hates me and never wants to deal with me again. That didn't stop him from leaving a second message that he's demanding the boys this weekend and next.
When I returned the call to discuss the time, etc., he screamed and yelled and fought and was mean. He doesn't know the time, and he's going to get a lawyer. I asked him for the name so that I could give him mine's name. He doesn't have one yet. He called back 3 times to 'deal' with me again. Apparently I'm a frigid, two faced bitch.
His friend that visited us from Arizona a few weeks ago has been supportive of him and is surprised because she sensed nothing wrong during her 4 hour visit. Conversely, Eyore has said repeatedly that the reason he was an ass is because I would disparage him and pick fights in front of other people. He said it was his way of getting back at me. So, I'm confused, was I the supportive smiling wife for his visiting friend OR was I the hanged-tooth bitch in front of others?
I'm concerned about the behavior. I think he's lost his mind. He was almost two hours late picking them up yesterday and didn't bring them home until after 9:30PM. He let Karateboy watch some show called Mr. Meaty --which is on Nicklodeon but still gave him nightmares. Something about a boy with a tapeworm. He was also driving like a maniac and was angry at me just because I looked at him.
I think he's dangerous and he's mad at me for that, too. He doesn't understand why I don't want to be married to him, and yet he's making my case very, very publicly.
Minutes ago, a message at work about how he wants all the jewelry he ever gave me. OK. Let me have everything I ever bought you.... :-). He complains about material things, but I understand he's got a right to stuff. Stuff, I don't care about. The draft my attorney is working on even stipulates that he can have what he wants. Stuff means nothing to me. Except now that he's stooped so low that he's leaving nasty messages everywhere. I was only going to put all the jewelry in a safe deposit box for the boys in the future, anyway.
I'm not sure what's funnier, that he accuses me of being materialistic and HE demands stuff or thinking about what the hell he's going to do with a couple of necklace and earrings sets.
He was right in his post, "I a ass". I think he's right and until he calms down, he's not getting anywhere near my kids. Please just pray he comes to his senses before he totally screws himself and maybe puts my kids in danger.
The Gay Sister Spa and Resort
The spa is fantastic. The rooms are private and come with a team of live in nannies and cooks. They take the children on outings and show then nature. The biggest surprise for me was the steam room. At first glance, it looks like any other bathroom in an older home. However, if someone opens the vent on the steam radiator for about 10 minutes before you get in, it is a full steam bath.
After my steam shower and gourmet breakfast, I was chauffeured to Kohl's and later to Pampered n' Pretty for a manicure and pedicure. Once finished there, back to the resort for a nap before a gourmet dinner. The nannies had the children out and about in various places, so I really stretched out and relaxed.
It was decided that the children would have much more fun at Hetero Sister's Fun Park, and so their party moved on for the night. I was going out with tea girls to gasp! A BAR! Which is conveniently on the premises.
The bar was magic. Mike's Hard Lemonade and tequila shots kept magically appearing in front of me. There were games like darts and pool and gossip. I met lots of really fun people I hope to see again some time soon.
It was really nice to flex my fun muscle. My responsible muscles are freakin' tired. I was back to reality by 3PM yesterday.
Dan was pissed at me again, for the look on my face and because I hadn't planned dinner. I had been dancing all evening the night before and he was supposed to have had the boys at 3PM. I'd decided if he didn't show up by 5, there would be cereal in our future. I was tired, and relaxed and getting ready to go back to work. I guess if he has to be angry about something, that's pretty benign. It is hard to watch him adjust to something I'd had more than 2 years to get my head around.
After my steam shower and gourmet breakfast, I was chauffeured to Kohl's and later to Pampered n' Pretty for a manicure and pedicure. Once finished there, back to the resort for a nap before a gourmet dinner. The nannies had the children out and about in various places, so I really stretched out and relaxed.
It was decided that the children would have much more fun at Hetero Sister's Fun Park, and so their party moved on for the night. I was going out with tea girls to gasp! A BAR! Which is conveniently on the premises.
The bar was magic. Mike's Hard Lemonade and tequila shots kept magically appearing in front of me. There were games like darts and pool and gossip. I met lots of really fun people I hope to see again some time soon.
It was really nice to flex my fun muscle. My responsible muscles are freakin' tired. I was back to reality by 3PM yesterday.
Dan was pissed at me again, for the look on my face and because I hadn't planned dinner. I had been dancing all evening the night before and he was supposed to have had the boys at 3PM. I'd decided if he didn't show up by 5, there would be cereal in our future. I was tired, and relaxed and getting ready to go back to work. I guess if he has to be angry about something, that's pretty benign. It is hard to watch him adjust to something I'd had more than 2 years to get my head around.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Puppies and Cousins
We're hanging out at Gaysister's house. She's got a giant Rottweiller/Black lab and per Partner has a sweet little wiener dog. Heterosister brought her kids over and it is one big party.
My dogless children are making promises about cleaning up poop and fantasizing about whose bed the little dog, Jasmine, would sleep. It is fun to see them get licked. And Tippytornado likes to stick out his tongue and let the dog lick it. No one who knows Tippytornado is really surprised by this.
Oh and Gaysister has Playstation. Karateboy keeps calling it X Box, but he's still securely in 6 year old boy heaven.
Me, I'm relaxed. Considering what is going on in my life's periphery, and that there are 3 adults, four children and two dogs in THREE ROOMS, we're doing OK. Gaysister gave me the bed and she and Partner slept in the living room with all the little people and pets. I had 8 consecutive hours of sleep and woke up WHEN I FELT LIKE IT (8:30 ish). Life doesn't get much better than this. I fell asleep to the sounds of the two three year olds giggling....not bad.
Then, they fetched me tea with REAL SUGAR, and made me eggs, kielbasa, and toast with jelly. No splenda this weekend! I'm gonna be a fattie!
I might go to the salon today, or shopping. Gaysister is in charge of the children. To answer some relative's questions, I'm pretty sure she cannot make any of the four kids gay. Statistically, one of them will be, and my money is on Heterosister's son. Not that it would bother me if Karateboy and Tippytornado swung that way, it would just be entertaining to watch Heterosister and her husband's heads blow off at the thought.
My dogless children are making promises about cleaning up poop and fantasizing about whose bed the little dog, Jasmine, would sleep. It is fun to see them get licked. And Tippytornado likes to stick out his tongue and let the dog lick it. No one who knows Tippytornado is really surprised by this.
Oh and Gaysister has Playstation. Karateboy keeps calling it X Box, but he's still securely in 6 year old boy heaven.
Me, I'm relaxed. Considering what is going on in my life's periphery, and that there are 3 adults, four children and two dogs in THREE ROOMS, we're doing OK. Gaysister gave me the bed and she and Partner slept in the living room with all the little people and pets. I had 8 consecutive hours of sleep and woke up WHEN I FELT LIKE IT (8:30 ish). Life doesn't get much better than this. I fell asleep to the sounds of the two three year olds giggling....not bad.
Then, they fetched me tea with REAL SUGAR, and made me eggs, kielbasa, and toast with jelly. No splenda this weekend! I'm gonna be a fattie!
I might go to the salon today, or shopping. Gaysister is in charge of the children. To answer some relative's questions, I'm pretty sure she cannot make any of the four kids gay. Statistically, one of them will be, and my money is on Heterosister's son. Not that it would bother me if Karateboy and Tippytornado swung that way, it would just be entertaining to watch Heterosister and her husband's heads blow off at the thought.
Friday, October 06, 2006
More effed up.......
So, Eyore walked into my house, went into my computer and found this blog. First, I thought I'd delete all this. But I've always been the kind of person without regret. Each of these posts is exactly what I was feeling at the time. There were no promises of legal accuracy. I'm an extroverted person and this is how I process.
This is a place to share my thoughts and feelings with my friends. So I don't have to repeat myself 1000 times. So I don't spend hours on the phone or e-mail. So I can focus on healing and my kids. I make no apologies for how I feel. It is what it is. There was never an intent to hurt Eyore, but instead explore why things are so bad and why we can't seem to break up. Ever. This isn't the first time.
Eyore has obviously loved me unconditionally....look how hard it is for him to let me go. Any other man would have walked away a long time ago. I'm not sure that's healthy.
Eyore wants a year to grow up. He says that if I give him a year I can make up my mind then and either get a divorce or get back together. He doesn't understand why I'm afraid. I'm tired, I'm exhausted. I'm scared and I'm sad. My natural instincts are not accurate or appropriate. I'm second guessing myself at every turn. That's why I'm afraid. I'm afraid that I'll fall for all this mushy crap and take him back to stop the freakin' pain.
The kids and I are in a safe place this weekend where we can rejuvenate. Thanks for all of your help and thoughts today.
Oh! Do you want to see Eyore's blog? I'm all about equal time: http://thisiseyore.blogspot.com .
Join the fray and comment. He says he doesn't have it published just yet, but I'm hoping that he'll get it up soon.
This is f'ed up
He apologized again this morning (which carries little weight because I'm so freakin' tired). I was up past two wondering if I was over reacting or if I was ignoring obvious signs. So I called 'The Company' EAP. Since he has no history of violent behavior, the counselor said I shouldn't be concerned, but that I should be careful.
I think I need to consistently remind him that for every time I did something that he finds so appalling he needs to tell everyone (like embarrass him in front of others) there were 100 other times that I was supportive, and encouraging and loving. I was young and inexperienced and didn't have a whole lot to work with. All I wanted was for him to be an adult.
He's an ass, and doesn't realize that this isn't just a stunt. He seems to fish every day for some glimmer of hope that we'd get back together. This morning his message was, "All I want is for us to be together."
Last night, he went from helping me in the basement and feeling the need to tell me that when he saw me in my undershorts what he wanted to do to me (in explicit detail) despite the fact that I asked him to stop repeatedly--- to telling me he doesn't care who I f*&k. It's like he's Jeykl and Hyde, and doesn't understand why I'm being guarded.
F'ed up is right....it feels surreal.
I think I need to consistently remind him that for every time I did something that he finds so appalling he needs to tell everyone (like embarrass him in front of others) there were 100 other times that I was supportive, and encouraging and loving. I was young and inexperienced and didn't have a whole lot to work with. All I wanted was for him to be an adult.
He's an ass, and doesn't realize that this isn't just a stunt. He seems to fish every day for some glimmer of hope that we'd get back together. This morning his message was, "All I want is for us to be together."
Last night, he went from helping me in the basement and feeling the need to tell me that when he saw me in my undershorts what he wanted to do to me (in explicit detail) despite the fact that I asked him to stop repeatedly--- to telling me he doesn't care who I f*&k. It's like he's Jeykl and Hyde, and doesn't understand why I'm being guarded.
F'ed up is right....it feels surreal.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
I have to post this
Because my imagination is a little active...because I want to make sure that I'm not being naive and trusting...I need to post this as evidence....just in case.
Tonight I learned two things. The first is that Eyore and I have developed a pattern. I look forward to a nice, relaxing evening. He does his very best to seem like everything's OK, and the minute I have my guard down, when I'm relaxed, ready to crawl into bed and sleep, he throws the curve ball. The accusation of some wrong or other I did 10 years ago. Tonight it was his anger that I don't recognize that he, too has sacrificed.
I'm working to keep a straight face...but he sacrificed his comic book collecting hobby for me. Yes, folks, you can be unemployed more than you're employed and run up as much debt as you want, and someone else can do all the housework and pay the bulk of the living expenses, but not getting to collect comic books is downright beautiful. He bought me gifts and took me out to dinner instead. So THAT was those credit cards I paid off. His sacrifice. So you can see how truly skewed his mental state is.
So, he calls back to apologize and ask me what kind of funeral arrangements I want. (anyone feeling an alarm flag waving here? Separating people who fight for two hours a day ALWAYS have agreements on funeral arrangements before child support, right)
We've always had a difference of opinion, I don't see why anyone would waste a 6X6X2 piece of ground on my decaying flesh. Cremate me and spread me someplace special. Eyore always said that he wanted a place he could come visit me. I said bury my ashes under a tree.
Anyway, tonight, he wanted me to express my wishes. I explained my commitment to not wasting precious earth and that I wanted the boys to decide whatever would make them happiest.
Then he asked what if the boys were gone, too, and what should he do with us.
WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT THAT? Part of me wants to change all the locks and move far, far away. Part of me still trusts him. Are these mind games? Is this psychological terror? He treats me nicely, then attacks and breaks me down and then....ever so subtly, he threatens me.
So, if I react to this in a prudent way, I could easily ruin his life. But if I don't and his last screw just fell out, I've just put my children in harms way. The Eyore I married would never, but I haven't seen the Eyore I married in a really long time.
So if something happens, it was obviously premeditated. Take this story and put it all over the news. Then take whatever cash I leave behind and start a fund to make sure that women who are psychologically trapped have a safe place to go for help.
Or, I could just be acting the part of a drama queen. I'm so far off center and so exhausted right now that I can't really tell the difference. I feel like we're in some kind of danger.
Tonight I learned two things. The first is that Eyore and I have developed a pattern. I look forward to a nice, relaxing evening. He does his very best to seem like everything's OK, and the minute I have my guard down, when I'm relaxed, ready to crawl into bed and sleep, he throws the curve ball. The accusation of some wrong or other I did 10 years ago. Tonight it was his anger that I don't recognize that he, too has sacrificed.
I'm working to keep a straight face...but he sacrificed his comic book collecting hobby for me. Yes, folks, you can be unemployed more than you're employed and run up as much debt as you want, and someone else can do all the housework and pay the bulk of the living expenses, but not getting to collect comic books is downright beautiful. He bought me gifts and took me out to dinner instead. So THAT was those credit cards I paid off. His sacrifice. So you can see how truly skewed his mental state is.
So, he calls back to apologize and ask me what kind of funeral arrangements I want. (anyone feeling an alarm flag waving here? Separating people who fight for two hours a day ALWAYS have agreements on funeral arrangements before child support, right)
We've always had a difference of opinion, I don't see why anyone would waste a 6X6X2 piece of ground on my decaying flesh. Cremate me and spread me someplace special. Eyore always said that he wanted a place he could come visit me. I said bury my ashes under a tree.
Anyway, tonight, he wanted me to express my wishes. I explained my commitment to not wasting precious earth and that I wanted the boys to decide whatever would make them happiest.
Then he asked what if the boys were gone, too, and what should he do with us.
WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT THAT? Part of me wants to change all the locks and move far, far away. Part of me still trusts him. Are these mind games? Is this psychological terror? He treats me nicely, then attacks and breaks me down and then....ever so subtly, he threatens me.
So, if I react to this in a prudent way, I could easily ruin his life. But if I don't and his last screw just fell out, I've just put my children in harms way. The Eyore I married would never, but I haven't seen the Eyore I married in a really long time.
So if something happens, it was obviously premeditated. Take this story and put it all over the news. Then take whatever cash I leave behind and start a fund to make sure that women who are psychologically trapped have a safe place to go for help.
Or, I could just be acting the part of a drama queen. I'm so far off center and so exhausted right now that I can't really tell the difference. I feel like we're in some kind of danger.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
SPACE!
I have more closet space...neener neener neener.
I have the whole bed to myself EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. I don't have to worry that someone is going to come to bed at 3 a.m. and wake me up and make me move over.
I need mental space. If he's here Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, I never seem to get time alone. 'Cause if he's not here, he's on the phone.
So we lost our kickball game. Single elimination playoffs. Bummer. But we get to drink next week! So, who shows up-- yep, Eyore. How did he piss me off? When I didn't acknowledge his compliment he got pissy. He ignored the kids. They ran around screaming while he did his best to look like he was interested. I wonder if he came by to see if I had a boyfriend.
That's pretty funny.
What's even funnier is that I have this undying urge to clean my house. Top to bottom. Sort of washing that man right out of my house. Then, when it gets messed up it can be all my fault. Eyore, however, can't seem to get it together enought to take the boys to his place or go visit his parents, so my delusions of a weekend of freedom are shot.
Don't get me wrong. I love every minute I have with my boys. I cherish every single second. Most of you know that. I need to just get over this freakin' hump. Then I can be 100% mom.
I have the whole bed to myself EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. I don't have to worry that someone is going to come to bed at 3 a.m. and wake me up and make me move over.
I need mental space. If he's here Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, I never seem to get time alone. 'Cause if he's not here, he's on the phone.
So we lost our kickball game. Single elimination playoffs. Bummer. But we get to drink next week! So, who shows up-- yep, Eyore. How did he piss me off? When I didn't acknowledge his compliment he got pissy. He ignored the kids. They ran around screaming while he did his best to look like he was interested. I wonder if he came by to see if I had a boyfriend.
That's pretty funny.
What's even funnier is that I have this undying urge to clean my house. Top to bottom. Sort of washing that man right out of my house. Then, when it gets messed up it can be all my fault. Eyore, however, can't seem to get it together enought to take the boys to his place or go visit his parents, so my delusions of a weekend of freedom are shot.
Don't get me wrong. I love every minute I have with my boys. I cherish every single second. Most of you know that. I need to just get over this freakin' hump. Then I can be 100% mom.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
If only
If only I could be as motivated to write Week 18 of my communication plan as I am to write this.
If only Eyore would realize that it was over and stop calling me 5 times a day.
If only my house would magically become clean and organized so I could start fresh.
If only my car would magically become clean and organized...
If only my yard...you get the picture...
If only crazy people didn't kill innocent children in their school-- which should be the safest place for them.
If only I could figure out this financial crap so I could move on (which would be easier if I stopped rewarding myself with material things I don't really need)
If only I would spend more time counting my glass as full. But it is full. Karateboy is a yellow belt and doing well in school. Tippytornado is BEGGING to go to school. I have a good job with good people who continue to hand me birthday cards and gifts even though, at this age, getting them at all is fun in itself.
Whew! Got that out of my system. Week 18. I've got to write Week 18. And I need to find someone to play raquetball with. I've got the equipment and I need the exercise. I just need a partner (who doesn't mind teaching me because I've never played).
:-) It's a brand new day and I'm feline' fine in every WA!
If only Eyore would realize that it was over and stop calling me 5 times a day.
If only my house would magically become clean and organized so I could start fresh.
If only my car would magically become clean and organized...
If only my yard...you get the picture...
If only crazy people didn't kill innocent children in their school-- which should be the safest place for them.
If only I could figure out this financial crap so I could move on (which would be easier if I stopped rewarding myself with material things I don't really need)
If only I would spend more time counting my glass as full. But it is full. Karateboy is a yellow belt and doing well in school. Tippytornado is BEGGING to go to school. I have a good job with good people who continue to hand me birthday cards and gifts even though, at this age, getting them at all is fun in itself.
Whew! Got that out of my system. Week 18. I've got to write Week 18. And I need to find someone to play raquetball with. I've got the equipment and I need the exercise. I just need a partner (who doesn't mind teaching me because I've never played).
:-) It's a brand new day and I'm feline' fine in every WA!
Monday, October 02, 2006
Psychological Warfare
Thanks to everyone who comments, and apologies as well-- I just figured out that I had a setting checked for moderating. ICK! Administrative work is not my thing!
So, I haven't posted in a few days because I was exhausted and celebrating a birthday. I think the birthday afforded enough special feelings for me that I didn't simply kill Eyore.
To answer everyone who has known me forever and wants to truly understand why I took him back the last 6,000 times--- basically he wore me down.
Psychological abuse is the worst kind because there are no tell tale-trips to the emergency room. He waited in the dark, two nights in a row to lash out at me verbally, and tear me down. Thursday night, I fell right into his grasp and spend Friday hurt and mopey and FREAKIN' tired. The drama sucks the life right out of you. One minute he's all apologetic and trying to kiss and hug you, the next minute he's screaming and crying that you don't treat him like a human being.
HEEEELLLOOOO I said I wanted a divorce. Not a brief vacation. Wrap your head around it. Live with it.
The last time he moved out, he didn't visit the kids for a month and he would call me 100 times a day and do the same thing...first all sweet and self-effacing, and when I didn't rush back into his arms, he'd lash out like a maniac. Then he'd want me to explain why I was afraid of him.
This time it was all drama..."I want to spend the last evening I can with my faaamilly (boo hoo hoo)"
Mushy girl that I am, I'd get sucked in and exhausted and confused and give in. I'm pretty sure he doesn't get it and really doesn't see himself as the responsible party (though he gives it good lip service) -- else the middle of the night attacks would cease.
I think he actually needs me-- in church yesterday (yes, he came) he was trying to put his arms around me and rub my arm. I moved a seat away to further the point. He just doesn't get it.
So, he finally 'moved out' last night sometime after I went to bed. After he asked me to 'come say goodbye' --- ugh!
He later called (woke me up no less, asshole) to tell me I was free. He followed up at some point with an e-mail. He's trying to engage me and push buttons so that I do something drastic and make a fool of myself (which I've done before) and I'm just not going there.
It is exhausting to be on your guard every minute because I really don't trust what he's going to do next. I need to find him a woman and fast! From what I understand, Glen Burnie is just swimming with dim-wits that would be just his speed. As soon as he has someone else to take care of him, I can extracate myself.
I just know that if he affects my mental state so negatively....what does he do to the boys? I know this is right, and thank you all for supporting me. 10/7 is our 13th anniversary, affectionately dubbed my 'unnaversary'.
There will be drinking.
So, I haven't posted in a few days because I was exhausted and celebrating a birthday. I think the birthday afforded enough special feelings for me that I didn't simply kill Eyore.
To answer everyone who has known me forever and wants to truly understand why I took him back the last 6,000 times--- basically he wore me down.
Psychological abuse is the worst kind because there are no tell tale-trips to the emergency room. He waited in the dark, two nights in a row to lash out at me verbally, and tear me down. Thursday night, I fell right into his grasp and spend Friday hurt and mopey and FREAKIN' tired. The drama sucks the life right out of you. One minute he's all apologetic and trying to kiss and hug you, the next minute he's screaming and crying that you don't treat him like a human being.
HEEEELLLOOOO I said I wanted a divorce. Not a brief vacation. Wrap your head around it. Live with it.
The last time he moved out, he didn't visit the kids for a month and he would call me 100 times a day and do the same thing...first all sweet and self-effacing, and when I didn't rush back into his arms, he'd lash out like a maniac. Then he'd want me to explain why I was afraid of him.
This time it was all drama..."I want to spend the last evening I can with my faaamilly (boo hoo hoo)"
Mushy girl that I am, I'd get sucked in and exhausted and confused and give in. I'm pretty sure he doesn't get it and really doesn't see himself as the responsible party (though he gives it good lip service) -- else the middle of the night attacks would cease.
I think he actually needs me-- in church yesterday (yes, he came) he was trying to put his arms around me and rub my arm. I moved a seat away to further the point. He just doesn't get it.
So, he finally 'moved out' last night sometime after I went to bed. After he asked me to 'come say goodbye' --- ugh!
He later called (woke me up no less, asshole) to tell me I was free. He followed up at some point with an e-mail. He's trying to engage me and push buttons so that I do something drastic and make a fool of myself (which I've done before) and I'm just not going there.
It is exhausting to be on your guard every minute because I really don't trust what he's going to do next. I need to find him a woman and fast! From what I understand, Glen Burnie is just swimming with dim-wits that would be just his speed. As soon as he has someone else to take care of him, I can extracate myself.
I just know that if he affects my mental state so negatively....what does he do to the boys? I know this is right, and thank you all for supporting me. 10/7 is our 13th anniversary, affectionately dubbed my 'unnaversary'.
There will be drinking.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Is this the bottom?
Is this the bottom? Is this the worst of it? Because if it hurts worse than this, sedate me first.
Perhaps it is the PMS talking, or, rather, crying.
I'm mad because I'm having all these emotions and there are people far more worthy than I am of being this sad and hurt.
I'm crying today because for as long as I can remember I was the kid that studied harder, worked harder, and sacrificed more because I knew that would make me special. Special enough to get some kind of special reward. I forgave and forgot and supported and went on. I believed in the good in people in general and the good in one person in particular.
I might have been the hang-toothed bitch he so angrily describes, but I never lied or cheated. I usually took the harder way because I knew there would be more reward in the end. I did the best with what I had. I didn't cut corners and tried to follow my conscience.
I've tried the whole handing it off to God thing...but so far, as hard as I've tried to listen, I'm just not hearing. I'm feeling more alone and confused and hurt and angry and embarrassed than ever before.
I didn't chose this. Well, I chose not to continue to cast a blind eye. I could have sucked it up and just lived with it and just pretended. I didn't chose to have a husband who was incapable of loving me and respecting me and our marriage vows. I chose a handsome, sweet, funny guy who was working two jobs because he liked them both-- and the extra money went into his fancy car. That didn't last very long and I should have hit the road with the first red flag. Dumbass.
So he's standing in the doorway right now asking if he can hug me. I told him I hope his arms fall off from leprosy.
I think I can't really see a future that isn't going to be without struggle and pain. I'm feeling a little cheated, because while my life wasn't nearly as horrible as some, I feel like I've had my fair share.
There are lots of 'if I'd only known' scenarios running through my head. But I did know. Deep in my heart, I knew it could never be right.
I'm scared, really really scared. I'm not sure there is a whole lot I can do right at the moment. He promises to be out by 2PM Saturday. Happy freakin' birthday to me. Maybe I can start to heal a little then. But the fear, I don't know that it will every really go away.
I don't want to be the one people feel sorry for, but I've lost my courage.
Perhaps it is the PMS talking, or, rather, crying.
I'm mad because I'm having all these emotions and there are people far more worthy than I am of being this sad and hurt.
I'm crying today because for as long as I can remember I was the kid that studied harder, worked harder, and sacrificed more because I knew that would make me special. Special enough to get some kind of special reward. I forgave and forgot and supported and went on. I believed in the good in people in general and the good in one person in particular.
I might have been the hang-toothed bitch he so angrily describes, but I never lied or cheated. I usually took the harder way because I knew there would be more reward in the end. I did the best with what I had. I didn't cut corners and tried to follow my conscience.
I've tried the whole handing it off to God thing...but so far, as hard as I've tried to listen, I'm just not hearing. I'm feeling more alone and confused and hurt and angry and embarrassed than ever before.
I didn't chose this. Well, I chose not to continue to cast a blind eye. I could have sucked it up and just lived with it and just pretended. I didn't chose to have a husband who was incapable of loving me and respecting me and our marriage vows. I chose a handsome, sweet, funny guy who was working two jobs because he liked them both-- and the extra money went into his fancy car. That didn't last very long and I should have hit the road with the first red flag. Dumbass.
So he's standing in the doorway right now asking if he can hug me. I told him I hope his arms fall off from leprosy.
I think I can't really see a future that isn't going to be without struggle and pain. I'm feeling a little cheated, because while my life wasn't nearly as horrible as some, I feel like I've had my fair share.
There are lots of 'if I'd only known' scenarios running through my head. But I did know. Deep in my heart, I knew it could never be right.
I'm scared, really really scared. I'm not sure there is a whole lot I can do right at the moment. He promises to be out by 2PM Saturday. Happy freakin' birthday to me. Maybe I can start to heal a little then. But the fear, I don't know that it will every really go away.
I don't want to be the one people feel sorry for, but I've lost my courage.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
You don't send me flowers...
Does it still count as a gift if later (within a few hours) the giver asks to borrow money in an amount that significantly exceeds the value of the gift? Because they need gas and lunch 'till pay day?
Am I being greedy to say that I'd rather pick out my own damn gift?
Or that I would rather have spent the money differently because I'm trying to save up to be able to afford my divorce?
Am I just being bitter because I can pretty directly trace every gift I've ever been given from this person back to a credit card that I later had to pay off or some other transaction because they were so intermittently employed, under employed and had the perpetual need to live beyond their means?
Is it childish for me to point out that their entire life style is provided by my hard work and at this point any gifts are just well...funny and maddening at the same time?
Am I being greedy to say that I'd rather pick out my own damn gift?
Or that I would rather have spent the money differently because I'm trying to save up to be able to afford my divorce?
Am I just being bitter because I can pretty directly trace every gift I've ever been given from this person back to a credit card that I later had to pay off or some other transaction because they were so intermittently employed, under employed and had the perpetual need to live beyond their means?
Is it childish for me to point out that their entire life style is provided by my hard work and at this point any gifts are just well...funny and maddening at the same time?
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
The Yardstick
I'm an odd mix of someone who likes to be a dreamy hopless romantic who flings caution to the wind combined with someone who has a minor obsession for Excel spreadsheets and making firm, quantified decisions.
I'm sure the latter is a backlash behavior since the first one hasn't quite served me so well (especially the romantic notion that brought me here).
So, I propose a rating system so that I can reconcile my head, my heart and my over-active libido.
For example, they'll earn 5 points for every $10,000 a year they make more than me. Own their own completely livable single family home? Plus 25 points. If they live with their parents/exwife/sibling's family/children -25 points.
For every inch their belly hangs over their belt -3 points. They earn one point for each time they visit a salon in a given year.
Insist on walking me to my car in a dark parking lot (and not just to cop a feel?) or drop me off at the door in the rain? Plus 10.
Since all is fair in love and war-- frizzy hair, baby related stretch marks, and flabby upper arms score a '0' because then we're equals.
For fun, we'll measure folks we know or fantasize about against the yardstick.
Please feel free to propose your own--I'm sure someone has done this before!
I'm sure the latter is a backlash behavior since the first one hasn't quite served me so well (especially the romantic notion that brought me here).
So, I propose a rating system so that I can reconcile my head, my heart and my over-active libido.
For example, they'll earn 5 points for every $10,000 a year they make more than me. Own their own completely livable single family home? Plus 25 points. If they live with their parents/exwife/sibling's family/children -25 points.
For every inch their belly hangs over their belt -3 points. They earn one point for each time they visit a salon in a given year.
Insist on walking me to my car in a dark parking lot (and not just to cop a feel?) or drop me off at the door in the rain? Plus 10.
Since all is fair in love and war-- frizzy hair, baby related stretch marks, and flabby upper arms score a '0' because then we're equals.
For fun, we'll measure folks we know or fantasize about against the yardstick.
Please feel free to propose your own--I'm sure someone has done this before!
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Fat Girl Costumes and Eyore
In my attempts to try not to think about how my spouse totally fucked up my life plans, I decided to give up trying to find a sexy Halloween costume that would be age-appropriate and cover my thighs. I Googled "Fat Girl Costumes". As God often does, He gave me a huge laugh.
So what if it was from last year-- it was exactly what I needed. I'm partial to the Sylvia Plath costume, but only 'cause it is hitting close to home.
See, today was the last of the pre-planned family outings. The last of the outings where, say, I bought the fuckin' tickets before Spermdonor finally proved his worth to me. (Grant it, he's been very sweet when we're alone since the magical day I realized I never wanted him to touch me again. However, he's been an ass in public (quite a switch).)
While riding Thomas the Tank Engine's 9th car today, I realized something. He shall be referred to as Eyore rather than Spermdonor. Eyore, that lovable donkey from Winnie-the-Pooh-- anyone who knows me how ironic it is that I choose this name on SOOO MANY LEVELS. Eyore, says, "I lost my tail again."-- Our Eyore says, "I lost my family again." Dumbass.
I intentionally dropped one of the e's. He doesn't even deserve the second one, and why confuse a sweet children's book character totally with him. So he's Eeyore with only one 'e'.
So, anyway, I was trying not to take 'family' pictures, but lots of Eyore and the boys. I doubt he'll have the balls to take the kids anywhere by himself. They'll outsmart him and make off with the car.
The funniest part was Tippytornado who SLEPT with his Thomas T Shirt last night and practically ran to Strasburg, PA from Columbia, MD. Once he saw Thomas, Sir Topham Hat, and rode Thomas, he said, "I go home now".
No stupid tents or silly marketing ploys for my wanna-be preschooler. Nope. He came, he saw, he conquered and within about an hour of arrival, he was done. Which is exactly how I approach these kinds of things. I tried to make light of it, and since that is the OPPOSITE of Eyore's approach (look at every nook and cranny no matter how long it takes, and buy everything you see) he didn't find it at all funny. Thank you Tippytornado for being my son and making some of my worst behaviors kind of cute.
I sadly watched the other families fight and smile and interact. Eyore and I were almost as polite as strangers. He did everything I asked him to do, without compliant. He just moped. And texted my cell phone with apologies.
I get the Sylvia Plath costume because I'm just a few steps away from a bathrobe, or a straight jacket. Plus, I've already got all the supplies---and I can be naked underneath--gross for those who know, but secret smile just for me! :-)
I will lull myself to sleep with images of Rob Thomas (with hair) who bears no resemblance to a certain dude from college with whom the timing was never quite right.
So what if it was from last year-- it was exactly what I needed. I'm partial to the Sylvia Plath costume, but only 'cause it is hitting close to home.
See, today was the last of the pre-planned family outings. The last of the outings where, say, I bought the fuckin' tickets before Spermdonor finally proved his worth to me. (Grant it, he's been very sweet when we're alone since the magical day I realized I never wanted him to touch me again. However, he's been an ass in public (quite a switch).)
While riding Thomas the Tank Engine's 9th car today, I realized something. He shall be referred to as Eyore rather than Spermdonor. Eyore, that lovable donkey from Winnie-the-Pooh-- anyone who knows me how ironic it is that I choose this name on SOOO MANY LEVELS. Eyore, says, "I lost my tail again."-- Our Eyore says, "I lost my family again." Dumbass.
I intentionally dropped one of the e's. He doesn't even deserve the second one, and why confuse a sweet children's book character totally with him. So he's Eeyore with only one 'e'.
So, anyway, I was trying not to take 'family' pictures, but lots of Eyore and the boys. I doubt he'll have the balls to take the kids anywhere by himself. They'll outsmart him and make off with the car.
The funniest part was Tippytornado who SLEPT with his Thomas T Shirt last night and practically ran to Strasburg, PA from Columbia, MD. Once he saw Thomas, Sir Topham Hat, and rode Thomas, he said, "I go home now".
No stupid tents or silly marketing ploys for my wanna-be preschooler. Nope. He came, he saw, he conquered and within about an hour of arrival, he was done. Which is exactly how I approach these kinds of things. I tried to make light of it, and since that is the OPPOSITE of Eyore's approach (look at every nook and cranny no matter how long it takes, and buy everything you see) he didn't find it at all funny. Thank you Tippytornado for being my son and making some of my worst behaviors kind of cute.
I sadly watched the other families fight and smile and interact. Eyore and I were almost as polite as strangers. He did everything I asked him to do, without compliant. He just moped. And texted my cell phone with apologies.
I get the Sylvia Plath costume because I'm just a few steps away from a bathrobe, or a straight jacket. Plus, I've already got all the supplies---and I can be naked underneath--gross for those who know, but secret smile just for me! :-)
I will lull myself to sleep with images of Rob Thomas (with hair) who bears no resemblance to a certain dude from college with whom the timing was never quite right.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Beige Bras and Oatmeal
There is a line I seem to remember from The Color Purple. In my head it was from the movie, but who knows 'cause I read the book, too. (and if you'd like it, I'd be happy to swap with you)
Anyway, one of the lesbians said something like: Every day of my life, I got up, I put on a beige bra and I ate oatmeal for breakfast. I did it the day before I fell in love with a woman and I still did it the day after. Everything else can change, but beige bras and oatmeal will be the same.
Not an exact quote, mind you, but you get the gist. There are fundamental things that we value that we're not going to change.
(As a side note, my sweet gay sister gave me permission to hop the fence. If nothing else just to freak out our other way-over-the-top-hetero sister, I seriously considered it. Don't get me wrong, Heterosister's husband wouldn't mind watching...or touching my boobs. We're that close, baby.)
So, what are my beige bras and oatmeal? What are yours? For the Spermdonor, is it selfishness and porn? Talk amongst yourselves. That's what commetns are for (and I removed that silly you-have-to-get-your-own-blog thing, I think)
Anyway, one of the lesbians said something like: Every day of my life, I got up, I put on a beige bra and I ate oatmeal for breakfast. I did it the day before I fell in love with a woman and I still did it the day after. Everything else can change, but beige bras and oatmeal will be the same.
Not an exact quote, mind you, but you get the gist. There are fundamental things that we value that we're not going to change.
(As a side note, my sweet gay sister gave me permission to hop the fence. If nothing else just to freak out our other way-over-the-top-hetero sister, I seriously considered it. Don't get me wrong, Heterosister's husband wouldn't mind watching...or touching my boobs. We're that close, baby.)
So, what are my beige bras and oatmeal? What are yours? For the Spermdonor, is it selfishness and porn? Talk amongst yourselves. That's what commetns are for (and I removed that silly you-have-to-get-your-own-blog thing, I think)
Thursday, September 21, 2006
WHAT THE HELL?
My mind is made up, this is really it, but why is God in cahoots with the SPERMDONOR?
The constant compliments and subservient I'll-do-anything-for-you-baby behavior has been stomach turning. WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU DO THIS 2-4-6-8 YEARS AGO DUMBASS?
The requests for kisses and hugs and the sad puppy face was stomach turning.
Yesterday? What did I get. A relatively mature sounding e-mail about growing up and being independent. It sounded almost....Healthy.
Today? Just to screw with me. He was happy! There was a twinkle in his eye that I haven't seen in a really, really long time. Like maybe last seen in 1991. He was elated about everything. Complimented my ass four times in less than an hour....That was more than all of 2005 COMBINED. Comments like, "whoa you shouldn't bend over like that." So, cynic that I am...
"Did your doctor change your meds? You're freakin' me out"
"No..ha ha ha...(smile, twinkle, smile)"
"Go take a shower"
No screaming at Karateboy at dinner, backed off when I said I wasn't going to stop on the way home to pick up cat food because I'd just spent an hour at the grocery store.
My internet friends, don't go all flippy and post that maybe he's bi-polar or something. I've waited through 13 years of various illnesses. I have the bedside manner of a python. No way, baby. There is only one person I know who stood by her man, and I stood with her. She was right, and I know I'm right. Sperm donor is the kind of crazy I don't want to be legally tied to forever.
So God...I'm horny...I'm lonely...I'm scared and self conscious....and your dropping the twinkley-eyed wonder boy at me. Memories of why I went back to him all those times are quite painful and embarrassing.
God, what the hell are you trying to do? Do you KNOW WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH? I'm not the kind of girl who backs down. Not this time. I asked for support from you...to carry me through this difficult time...and THIS IS WHAT I GET?
NO FREAKIN' WAY BUDDY. IF you keep this crap up, I'm quitting the band at church. Don't mess with me.
The constant compliments and subservient I'll-do-anything-for-you-baby behavior has been stomach turning. WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU DO THIS 2-4-6-8 YEARS AGO DUMBASS?
The requests for kisses and hugs and the sad puppy face was stomach turning.
Yesterday? What did I get. A relatively mature sounding e-mail about growing up and being independent. It sounded almost....Healthy.
Today? Just to screw with me. He was happy! There was a twinkle in his eye that I haven't seen in a really, really long time. Like maybe last seen in 1991. He was elated about everything. Complimented my ass four times in less than an hour....That was more than all of 2005 COMBINED. Comments like, "whoa you shouldn't bend over like that." So, cynic that I am...
"Did your doctor change your meds? You're freakin' me out"
"No..ha ha ha...(smile, twinkle, smile)"
"Go take a shower"
No screaming at Karateboy at dinner, backed off when I said I wasn't going to stop on the way home to pick up cat food because I'd just spent an hour at the grocery store.
My internet friends, don't go all flippy and post that maybe he's bi-polar or something. I've waited through 13 years of various illnesses. I have the bedside manner of a python. No way, baby. There is only one person I know who stood by her man, and I stood with her. She was right, and I know I'm right. Sperm donor is the kind of crazy I don't want to be legally tied to forever.
So God...I'm horny...I'm lonely...I'm scared and self conscious....and your dropping the twinkley-eyed wonder boy at me. Memories of why I went back to him all those times are quite painful and embarrassing.
God, what the hell are you trying to do? Do you KNOW WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH? I'm not the kind of girl who backs down. Not this time. I asked for support from you...to carry me through this difficult time...and THIS IS WHAT I GET?
NO FREAKIN' WAY BUDDY. IF you keep this crap up, I'm quitting the band at church. Don't mess with me.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
The death of my beloved minivan (conceptually)
I was a proud minivan driver. It had everything I need and was the very symbol of the suburban life I wanted to be leading. It's got room for my crap, my kids, other folks' kids....I drove it with pride.
Then, my young, handsome friend invited me to my first adult Halloween Party--where I'll get to meet his lovely wife. A party that I'll be attending as a single woman. I was really excited about that--and meeting new people-- single people--with alcohol. Until tonight.
We joked about how he was going to get me both drunk and laid. We had so much fun playing kickball and we almost won...so I was on a high. He was gonna be my pimp. As our kickball game wrapped up he walked me to my van, because apparently there is a whole world of cute, chivalrous men who insist on making sure the ladies get safely to their cars and that they don't have to struggle carrying a net full of kickballs. But they're married.
He joked that the van needs to go...he actually suggested, "a nice Rav 4" (which I will foreverassociate with my mother --eww!). I joked about my Mercedes convertible and we agreed that I couldn't afford that and divorce all in the same year.
As I drove away, it hit me like a brick. I'm not hot dating material. Not even close. I've got bags both figuratively and stuck to my body. I've got kids. I made a choice when I was 17 to stay with one guy. All my eggs in one basket. I never got to explore my wild side. It is not reasonable to expect to date any time soon, much less just get laid, or even just go 'out there'
When You're 32 with two kids it's desperate and pitiful . I cannot reconcile the all the parts of me because being a mom and a professional have to come first. If my kids or my co-workers ever found out that really I'm also sexual--- I have to figure out how to be all of me. I don't have a safe place any more to express that private side.
I wish I could turn back the clock.
I was a proud minivan driver. It had everything I need and was the very symbol of the suburban life I wanted to be leading. It's got room for my crap, my kids, other folks' kids....I drove it with pride.
Then, my young, handsome friend invited me to my first adult Halloween Party--where I'll get to meet his lovely wife. A party that I'll be attending as a single woman. I was really excited about that--and meeting new people-- single people--with alcohol. Until tonight.
We joked about how he was going to get me both drunk and laid. We had so much fun playing kickball and we almost won...so I was on a high. He was gonna be my pimp. As our kickball game wrapped up he walked me to my van, because apparently there is a whole world of cute, chivalrous men who insist on making sure the ladies get safely to their cars and that they don't have to struggle carrying a net full of kickballs. But they're married.
He joked that the van needs to go...he actually suggested, "a nice Rav 4" (which I will foreverassociate with my mother --eww!). I joked about my Mercedes convertible and we agreed that I couldn't afford that and divorce all in the same year.
As I drove away, it hit me like a brick. I'm not hot dating material. Not even close. I've got bags both figuratively and stuck to my body. I've got kids. I made a choice when I was 17 to stay with one guy. All my eggs in one basket. I never got to explore my wild side. It is not reasonable to expect to date any time soon, much less just get laid, or even just go 'out there'
When You're 32 with two kids it's desperate and pitiful . I cannot reconcile the all the parts of me because being a mom and a professional have to come first. If my kids or my co-workers ever found out that really I'm also sexual--- I have to figure out how to be all of me. I don't have a safe place any more to express that private side.
I wish I could turn back the clock.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
The brightest bright spot....
Karateboy is in first grade. He started reading books aloud (FINALLY) and there is no nicer sound in the world....other than maybe when he and his brother are giggling together.
He's going to test for his yellow belt in Tai Kwon Do on 9/29...so it is really a gift to have something to look forward to.
Thank GOD for my boys. They are so freakin' cute, and they're my biggest fans (who can beat that!)
Spermdonor is soooo missing out on what makes life worth living!
He did however do the toughest thing today. Heather our diabetic cat has not been doing well and after 5 years of cleaning up her pee, he took her to be put to sleep today. So sad...my first baby...our first child....and yet NO MORE PEE ON THE FLOOR!! sniff!sniff.
Karateboy is in first grade. He started reading books aloud (FINALLY) and there is no nicer sound in the world....other than maybe when he and his brother are giggling together.
He's going to test for his yellow belt in Tai Kwon Do on 9/29...so it is really a gift to have something to look forward to.
Thank GOD for my boys. They are so freakin' cute, and they're my biggest fans (who can beat that!)
Spermdonor is soooo missing out on what makes life worth living!
He did however do the toughest thing today. Heather our diabetic cat has not been doing well and after 5 years of cleaning up her pee, he took her to be put to sleep today. So sad...my first baby...our first child....and yet NO MORE PEE ON THE FLOOR!! sniff!sniff.
I just cannot seem to get a break. A seemingly innocuous e-mail reminding him and my mother of the weeks' activities turns into the climax of a depressing movie right before the antagonist goes on a wild rampage with a kitchen knife.
9/19/06
From: Me
To: Mom; Spermdonor
Tonight: Acupuncture > Tomorrow: Logos meeting > Wednesday: Kickball > Thursday: Let's Eat Dinner (just like lets dish! @ 7:30 > Friday: BLESSEDLY NOTHING! > Saturday: O's Game > Sunday: Up early to go see Thomas the tank engine in Strasburg. >
Totally normal, right? He responds:
I don't know if I'm going to go. > > Saturday: O's Game > Sunday: Up early to go see Thomas the tank engine in Strasburg
OK, maybe I start the barbs here. This is a little edgy. I respond:
I bought your tickets and it is something for the boys, so how far up your ass is your head?
Yes, I hear you shaking your head. It was rude, but OH MY GOD. Is he going to crawl into the family room couch and never come out? OH, update. Before he got my e-mail, he called me on the cell to tell me that 'Our Song' was playing. Unchained Melody like at our wedding? No, 'She Hates Me' by Nirvana. So I merely clarified by singing "Since you've been gone, I can breathe for the first time! I'm so movin' on, yeah yeah!...you had your chance and you blew it..again and again and again!" the Kelly Clarkson one....
my head isn't up my ass. with how much you don't want to be or want me around. i wouldn't want to make you do something to make you more disguised then you are already having to do. also if i wasn't living here you wouldn't have called to see if i wanted to go, especially with your friends who are afraid to have me around because you told them i was in to little girls. why would i want to go where i'm not really wanted, and ruin everybodies day at that game. you felt years ago you needed to separate yourself from me. so this would just be one of those things, just like this past weekend. i'm not taking it or this out on the boys. i know i'm not wanted there and i do feel comfortable going. the things you said last night hurt so bad, if i could have left days go or today i be gone. it hurt so bad it feels like somebody ripped my heart out, and now there's just a big hole.
you got me so bad, the all day i keep think i should quit and stop fighting to save this marriage.
My response.
Why would you call me about a song on the radio about hate if you didn't want to hear it back?
Why is it OK for you to be grumpy and mopey and make the kids sad (and mad at you for making you that way) and I'm not allowed that luxury-- because one of us has to be sane and re-assuring?
Why, if you wanted to talk to me, would you call and leave a voice mail at work at 11:30 at night-- and follow up with an e-mail at work? Because you wanted to ruin my day?
So, your plan is to waste the $30+ I spent on tickets, skip out on something important that we planned FOR THE BOYS, and spend the weekend moping around the house? Sounds healthy to me! Sounds like they're really going to feel this isn't their fault and they've still got their dad.
Stop trying to save this marriage and save yourself. You blew it. It's over. I can name 15 milestone dates where I made it crystal clear to you that this was not working for me (and just about every day in between). I've suffered no-so-quietly and miserably while you apparently enjoyed life. You even told me at various points how happy you were.
So don't tell me about having your heart ripped out. It happened every time you rejected me, talked down to me, and ignored me. It happened every time I heard you saying things to other people that I needed you to say to me.
Don't come to me with your drama. Suck it up and be a man. Karateboy is 6 and Tippytornado is 3. If you don't make an effort to be a part of their lives now, they'll forget we ever even tried to be a family.
You are such a selfish ass. If you weren't doing anything wrong or to be embarrassed about, walk around with your head held high...I'm the lunatic, right?
9/19/06
From: Me
To: Mom; Spermdonor
Tonight: Acupuncture > Tomorrow: Logos meeting > Wednesday: Kickball > Thursday: Let's Eat Dinner (just like lets dish! @ 7:30 > Friday: BLESSEDLY NOTHING! > Saturday: O's Game > Sunday: Up early to go see Thomas the tank engine in Strasburg. >
Totally normal, right? He responds:
I don't know if I'm going to go. > > Saturday: O's Game > Sunday: Up early to go see Thomas the tank engine in Strasburg
OK, maybe I start the barbs here. This is a little edgy. I respond:
I bought your tickets and it is something for the boys, so how far up your ass is your head?
Yes, I hear you shaking your head. It was rude, but OH MY GOD. Is he going to crawl into the family room couch and never come out? OH, update. Before he got my e-mail, he called me on the cell to tell me that 'Our Song' was playing. Unchained Melody like at our wedding? No, 'She Hates Me' by Nirvana. So I merely clarified by singing "Since you've been gone, I can breathe for the first time! I'm so movin' on, yeah yeah!...you had your chance and you blew it..again and again and again!" the Kelly Clarkson one....
my head isn't up my ass. with how much you don't want to be or want me around. i wouldn't want to make you do something to make you more disguised then you are already having to do. also if i wasn't living here you wouldn't have called to see if i wanted to go, especially with your friends who are afraid to have me around because you told them i was in to little girls. why would i want to go where i'm not really wanted, and ruin everybodies day at that game. you felt years ago you needed to separate yourself from me. so this would just be one of those things, just like this past weekend. i'm not taking it or this out on the boys. i know i'm not wanted there and i do feel comfortable going. the things you said last night hurt so bad, if i could have left days go or today i be gone. it hurt so bad it feels like somebody ripped my heart out, and now there's just a big hole.
you got me so bad, the all day i keep think i should quit and stop fighting to save this marriage.
My response.
Why would you call me about a song on the radio about hate if you didn't want to hear it back?
Why is it OK for you to be grumpy and mopey and make the kids sad (and mad at you for making you that way) and I'm not allowed that luxury-- because one of us has to be sane and re-assuring?
Why, if you wanted to talk to me, would you call and leave a voice mail at work at 11:30 at night-- and follow up with an e-mail at work? Because you wanted to ruin my day?
So, your plan is to waste the $30+ I spent on tickets, skip out on something important that we planned FOR THE BOYS, and spend the weekend moping around the house? Sounds healthy to me! Sounds like they're really going to feel this isn't their fault and they've still got their dad.
Stop trying to save this marriage and save yourself. You blew it. It's over. I can name 15 milestone dates where I made it crystal clear to you that this was not working for me (and just about every day in between). I've suffered no-so-quietly and miserably while you apparently enjoyed life. You even told me at various points how happy you were.
So don't tell me about having your heart ripped out. It happened every time you rejected me, talked down to me, and ignored me. It happened every time I heard you saying things to other people that I needed you to say to me.
Don't come to me with your drama. Suck it up and be a man. Karateboy is 6 and Tippytornado is 3. If you don't make an effort to be a part of their lives now, they'll forget we ever even tried to be a family.
You are such a selfish ass. If you weren't doing anything wrong or to be embarrassed about, walk around with your head held high...I'm the lunatic, right?
Monday, September 18, 2006
OK, you're not going to believe this.
Last night, he asked to kiss me. The man who makes my skin crawl because he chose kiddie porn over me wants me to touch him with my lips. No WAAAY! (for those of you new to this story it has been documented since 19992---I kid you not-- you're just joining us in the middle.)
Him, " Can I kiss you?"
Me, "Have you lost your mind?"
Just because I haven't changed the locks yet doesn't get you anywhere near these panties.
Oh, but if there was someone who wanted in these panties, I'm a bit, well randy you know?
Last night, he asked to kiss me. The man who makes my skin crawl because he chose kiddie porn over me wants me to touch him with my lips. No WAAAY! (for those of you new to this story it has been documented since 19992---I kid you not-- you're just joining us in the middle.)
Him, " Can I kiss you?"
Me, "Have you lost your mind?"
Just because I haven't changed the locks yet doesn't get you anywhere near these panties.
Oh, but if there was someone who wanted in these panties, I'm a bit, well randy you know?
And there was a sign.
The lawyer's office (which I'd never visited, we'd only talked by phone) happens to be right next door to the acupuncturists new digs. Coincidince? I think NOT!
Saturday, September 16, 2006
So the trip was a bit surreal. Everyone had little babies that were crying with the grandparents like accessories rushing about to quiet the child WHILE THE PARENTS STOOD BY CHATTING WITH BEERS IN THEIR HANDS!
I totally f'ed up in that department. Why didn't I marry into a family where the grandparents wanted to suck it up and do all the work? Well, I guess my mother in law tried, but she's got as much tact as Anna Nicole Smith has style and grace.
Ah, you Jersey folk have it made. Enjoy.
Sorry about the odd answers regarding the sperm donor. I really wanted to jump up and down and sing a song of joy...but I just stammered...
Three hours up and three hours back really gives a girl time to think.
This is the right thing. If I go back to him, I'm just re-making the same mistakes again and again. I'm an idiot if I trust him again. My children need to know that behavior isn't normal and that I think more of myself than to stand for it. They need to see either an example of a relatively healthy adult relationship, or at least a sane mother.
So sad, that girl who wrote the letter in 1992 who blamed the future sperm donor's addiction to phone sex lines on herself. Because she obviously wasn't good enough in bed. Not kinky enough for her mostly unemployed love.
Sad girl who willingly compromised her values and then was sadder when all the love ended because she became a mother. She decided that she wanted a relationship with just one man to be a good example for her baby. Sex with other women just wasn't the life she wanted, even if it made her husband happy.
I don't want to be her--and I haven't been her for 8 years. But the other direction is scary.
Sperm donor was on the phone with Karateboy and told him he was sad. He said something else about it being all his fault and Karateboy screamed at ME that it is all my fault.
Good move, ass. I could be less selfish and stay married to you. But then I'd have to tie you to the bed and light your pubic hair on fire just to listen to you scream in pain.
Kinda like the pain I felt when I opened that stupid laptop at had all of my worst fears confirmed. I married a pervert....worse, I married my father.
Oddly, today is Daddy's birthday. I wonder if he's still alive?
I totally f'ed up in that department. Why didn't I marry into a family where the grandparents wanted to suck it up and do all the work? Well, I guess my mother in law tried, but she's got as much tact as Anna Nicole Smith has style and grace.
Ah, you Jersey folk have it made. Enjoy.
Sorry about the odd answers regarding the sperm donor. I really wanted to jump up and down and sing a song of joy...but I just stammered...
Three hours up and three hours back really gives a girl time to think.
This is the right thing. If I go back to him, I'm just re-making the same mistakes again and again. I'm an idiot if I trust him again. My children need to know that behavior isn't normal and that I think more of myself than to stand for it. They need to see either an example of a relatively healthy adult relationship, or at least a sane mother.
So sad, that girl who wrote the letter in 1992 who blamed the future sperm donor's addiction to phone sex lines on herself. Because she obviously wasn't good enough in bed. Not kinky enough for her mostly unemployed love.
Sad girl who willingly compromised her values and then was sadder when all the love ended because she became a mother. She decided that she wanted a relationship with just one man to be a good example for her baby. Sex with other women just wasn't the life she wanted, even if it made her husband happy.
I don't want to be her--and I haven't been her for 8 years. But the other direction is scary.
Sperm donor was on the phone with Karateboy and told him he was sad. He said something else about it being all his fault and Karateboy screamed at ME that it is all my fault.
Good move, ass. I could be less selfish and stay married to you. But then I'd have to tie you to the bed and light your pubic hair on fire just to listen to you scream in pain.
Kinda like the pain I felt when I opened that stupid laptop at had all of my worst fears confirmed. I married a pervert....worse, I married my father.
Oddly, today is Daddy's birthday. I wonder if he's still alive?
Friday, September 15, 2006
I just noticed that I start all of my posts with OK.
Maybe I'll just cut that out.
So, I'm taking my little pumpkins on a trip tomorrow to see some friends in NJ. Perhaps their babies (twins!) will take my mind off of the situation with the sperm donor.
I just know that if he tells me I'm beautiful one more time, I'm going to stuff a bat up his ASS and swing him out a window. It would have been nice to hear before I decided you make my skin crawl. ASS.
And stop sleeping on my good couch. Sleep on the stupid family room couch that you insisted on buying..... and me....trying to please everyone, especially you, living with it, and biting my tongue every time I had to look at it.
The chocolate velvet couch IS MINE! I PICKED IT OUT! I PAID FOR IT! IN MY HOUSE THAT I BOUGHT WITH NO HELP FROM YOU! ASS!!
Wrap that up in your unemployment check and smoke it. USER!!!!
Maybe I'll just cut that out.
So, I'm taking my little pumpkins on a trip tomorrow to see some friends in NJ. Perhaps their babies (twins!) will take my mind off of the situation with the sperm donor.
I just know that if he tells me I'm beautiful one more time, I'm going to stuff a bat up his ASS and swing him out a window. It would have been nice to hear before I decided you make my skin crawl. ASS.
And stop sleeping on my good couch. Sleep on the stupid family room couch that you insisted on buying..... and me....trying to please everyone, especially you, living with it, and biting my tongue every time I had to look at it.
The chocolate velvet couch IS MINE! I PICKED IT OUT! I PAID FOR IT! IN MY HOUSE THAT I BOUGHT WITH NO HELP FROM YOU! ASS!!
Wrap that up in your unemployment check and smoke it. USER!!!!
Thursday, September 14, 2006
OK, so I'm sad.
My older son, Karateboy, is 6 and a half. He's not really going to remember our family times when he grows up. That is good...and bad. I'm shooing out his father.
The baby, Tippytornado, will not remember anything at all. Just pictures and stories we tell.
I brought two beautiful kids into the world (and thank God becuase I'd have killed myself from lonliness by now otherwise) and I'm screwing them out of their right to a nuclear family.
Actually, I'm not. Their father did. And don't tell me it takes two to tango. He was dancing all by himself. (if you think the porn thing was our only mounting problem, smoke more crack, it is good for you)
My older son, Karateboy, is 6 and a half. He's not really going to remember our family times when he grows up. That is good...and bad. I'm shooing out his father.
The baby, Tippytornado, will not remember anything at all. Just pictures and stories we tell.
I brought two beautiful kids into the world (and thank God becuase I'd have killed myself from lonliness by now otherwise) and I'm screwing them out of their right to a nuclear family.
Actually, I'm not. Their father did. And don't tell me it takes two to tango. He was dancing all by himself. (if you think the porn thing was our only mounting problem, smoke more crack, it is good for you)
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
OK, so I think I'm going to start a list.
If someone is ever going to replace the sperm donor, I think he'll need to be older than me. And a wee bit more successful, but not so much so that he feels the need to mentor me, but so maybe I can learn a few tricks and he can stand on his own. And I on my own. Yep. Older. I'm not training another one.
But he must be devastatingly handsome.
But how would a devastatingly handsome successful older man feel about
If someone is ever going to replace the sperm donor, I think he'll need to be older than me. And a wee bit more successful, but not so much so that he feels the need to mentor me, but so maybe I can learn a few tricks and he can stand on his own. And I on my own. Yep. Older. I'm not training another one.
But he must be devastatingly handsome.
But how would a devastatingly handsome successful older man feel about
- my committment to motherhood?
- my flabby baby belly?
- the fact that I've never had an adult relationship
- my need to control and be a bitch
Yep. He doesn't exist. Certainly not in this zip code.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
It's been a week. He even proposed a great arrangement with the kids. Now if he would get the F*&^k out.
Yet, somehow, he keeps trying to hug me and touch me and kiss me.
Doesn't he understand that I'm mortified by the very thought that my husband would even enjoy looking at little girls bodies? ICK! Just gross!
And our friends...who have daughters...who are grossed out by letting them sleep at my house.
Now his hobby is hurting me...this really sucks.
Yet, somehow, he keeps trying to hug me and touch me and kiss me.
Doesn't he understand that I'm mortified by the very thought that my husband would even enjoy looking at little girls bodies? ICK! Just gross!
And our friends...who have daughters...who are grossed out by letting them sleep at my house.
Now his hobby is hurting me...this really sucks.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Today I accidentally picked up my husband's laptop to show my mother something I was bidding on on E Bay...there it was the last bit of straw that showed me my husband and I are in no way compatible. What was displayed on the screen was not shocking (for anyone who knows us), but took things that pissed me off in a whole new direction.
Forget that it was very plainly sitting in the living room for my impressionable 6 year old to find.
Forget that I don't think the girls were 18.
Forget that I've been feeling quite unnatended to for the last two to six years.
Forget that I was pretty sure he must be gay.
Forget that as the child of a child molester there is probably just one place he should never go.
Forget that they're probaly 18 in some mal-nourished third world country-- but look like twelve year olds to me.
Forget that I'm about as curvy as they come and CLEARLY I'm not his cup of tea.
Forget all that. We're just telling the children that after 16 years as a couple, 13 married, it just didn't work out.
Just forget it.
I tried to and go went to my kickball game.
Forget that it was very plainly sitting in the living room for my impressionable 6 year old to find.
Forget that I don't think the girls were 18.
Forget that I've been feeling quite unnatended to for the last two to six years.
Forget that I was pretty sure he must be gay.
Forget that as the child of a child molester there is probably just one place he should never go.
Forget that they're probaly 18 in some mal-nourished third world country-- but look like twelve year olds to me.
Forget that I'm about as curvy as they come and CLEARLY I'm not his cup of tea.
Forget all that. We're just telling the children that after 16 years as a couple, 13 married, it just didn't work out.
Just forget it.
I tried to and go went to my kickball game.
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