Category Archives: Family

Growing Up or Growing Into?

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It’s Saturday Night y’all!  The boyfriend is hanging out with his brother, and my kid is asleep.  Logically the next step is brew some coffee and write some bullshit.  So yeah.  Here I am.  On the internet.  Three minutes ago I had a realization, something that hit me so hard, so fast, that I immediately felt that need to get the words out of my head.  I can’t find my favorite pen, so blog it is.

I am a New Sarah.

Over the past 15 years, I have reinvented myself several times.  No one Sarah was completely the same.  Some Sarah’s were no good, some Sarah’s were too work-involved, some Sarah’s were at the bottom of the bottle, and some Sarah’s were domesticated housewifes.  So here we go again, I finally realized that I am a completely new Sarah again.

This new Me has been evolving for roughly 3 years.  The Divorce from “He who shall not be named” threw me to rock-bottom.  I wasn’t the best person, I wasn’t the best mom, and I wasn’t a good friend.  Honestly, I didn’t even like me.  Not even a little bit.  Actually, if Present-Day-Me met Me-From-3-Years ago, I’d slap her.  Or me.  Whatever, you get the gist.

I had to have a couple of major blows to my life to straighten out.  Those blows sucked, but I finally got it figured out and apparently just ran with it.  Usually my reinventions are somewhat similar.  Some sort of aspect stays with the next Me, thankfully, this time, the only thing that has stuck is my fuck-you-I-can-do-this attitude.  I think I’m just so amazed because of it.  Looking back on 3 years ago, I am borderline ashamed.  I have moments of deep shame, but then I remind myself that everything I did, caused, or went through, kicked my ass enough to learn from it.  Nonetheless, I am glad to say goodbye to the Old Sarah.  I am glad to kiss that life goodbye and stop glancing over my shoulder to make sure it’s not following me.

Today was a perfect day.  The Boyfriend had to work, so we had a Noodle and Mama Day.  We relaxed together a bit this morning, and after a quick breakfast hopped in the car and headed out.  We ran a couple of errands and then had lunch together.  After lunch, we went straight to the local farmer’s market and bought mushrooms (Noodle), Onions (as a complement to Noodle’s mushrooms), and peanut butter cookies (Me, duh).  Then we went shopping, we roamed around a couple of stores, causing a bit of trouble and looking for deals.  At Target I learned that my kid can con cookies off of ANY bakery in ANY store ANNNNND go back for SECONDS.

We came back to the house and set up some venison chops to marinate, and went right back outside.  It was a gorgeous day, and I don’t think either one of us could stay inside another day.  I had bought her a big jug of bubbles, so I sipped my iced coffee and she blew and chased down and stomped hundreds of bubbles.  A good grilled dinner and some relaxing, and she’s tucked into bed asleep.  I managed to clean the house before I ended up on my computer.

What made me realize the change in myself is that as I brewed my cup of coffee I realized I was/am completely happy and content.  That moment, as my coffee brewed, I thought back and realized how different not only I was, but how different I felt compared to a few years ago.  I finally learned how to live for me (and my daughter) instead of to someone else’s standards, or how I thought I was *supposed* to be.  I finally learned to love ME and my life, all the little quirks and troubles.  I learned to be happy with myself and enjoy the little things, and do it sober.

Things are not perfect and this life has had some pretty shitty moments, but now I realize that it will never be perfect, but I can make it as damn close as I can, and enjoy the ride there.

 

It feels good to stop looking into the past.

Easter for the Non-Religious

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It’s already Easter, March just flew by!  It seems I was just bitching about it only being February and BAM! Tomorrow’s the first day of April.  Easter weekend isn’t anything too special for my family, I haven’t been particularly religious since I was a kid.  Basically after the trauma of losing my Mother when I was in 5th grade, Christianity just morphed into “being a good person”.  Don’t get me wrong, I believe in God, I just don’t believe in organized religion or practicing my faith with in a church.  What it comes down to for my family and I is regardless of what you believe, try and be a good person.  I guess I’ll find out if that’s the wrong answer at the end of my life.  *Shrugs*

Easter as a kid was a big production for our family.  We’d all go (were dragged) to church in the morning after raiding our Easter baskets.  After church we’d head to my grandparents house for an Easter Egg hunt and dinner.  It was usually my grandparents, my parents, my sister and I, my Aunt and her daughter.  Definitely some fond memories there.

Like I already said, my family isn’t too religious.  I intend on teaching Nood about Christianity (and other religions once she gets a little older) so she can make the decision for herself.  So our house is pretty tame on Easter.  Of course we do Easter baskets and egg hunts, and most years we go to my parent’s house where they do an egg hunt for Nood.  This year we’re postponing it until next weekend.

One of the wonderful things about this Easter is that I had Good Friday off.  So hurrah for three day weekends!  Nood had a costume party at school on Friday, so I gave her the option of staying home with me or school, and she chose home.  So we hung out all day and relaxed.  Saturdays are always filled with errands here, so it was mostly shopping and cleaning, which we got a lot done.  Today though, today was extra nice.

Ry had to go help his sister move, so we did the Easter Baskets/Egg hunt first thing and then I dropped him off at the train.  Noodle and I came back and hung out for a couple of hours this morning and then cooked lunch together.  She helped make grilled cheese (with swiss on everything bread!!) and tomato soup.  Lunch together today was different.  There was no whining about food or any of that, she actually talked.  Like told me her “great ideas” and what she wanted to do this summer.  She’s a very vocal child as it is, meals are usually just punctuated with complaints since she’s the pickiest eater alive.  So it was definitely nice.

After lunch it was finally in the 50′s outside and the sun was shining.  We headed out in the backyard for a few hours, I got some writing in and Nood ran around like crazy alternating between the trampoline and swing set.  I think the sun did both of us some good.  Afterwards she helped me shell all of our coloured eggs and make Deviled Eggs.  I even got her to try one.  She tried so hard to eat it without making faces or complaining.  I had to laugh and let up on her.  Ha.

It was just really nice.  I’ve picked up Ry already, and Nood got some bike riding time in on her new bike with the neighbor boy so everyone’s pretty content.  I’ve sent Ry out to grill the skirt steaks I stuck in a marinade earlier, and for now it’s eerily quiet as the kid relaxes.

I was a little bummed about moving Easter Dinner at my parent’s to next weekend at first, but I ended up having a blast with my kid.  I wouldn’t trade today for anything.  Besides, next weekend is a double whammy.  My birthday (I’m growing down now) and Easter.  Fuck yes, I’m going to eat everything and drink too much wine.  :)

 

Hope everyone had a wonderful weekend too regardless of whether you celebrate or not.  Happy Spring!

An Open Letter To The Ex-Wives

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[Explanation:  This is not a hack on all single mothers or all ex-wives.  This is for those women who divorce a man for whatever reason but then refuse to let go.  This is for the women who get mad when things start going right for the man that *they* walked out on. This is for those mothers who spend too much money on frivolous shit and then complain when they don't have money for their half of their child's necessities.  Take offense if you must but if you do, think about why you're offended. ] [ This is also not a dig on mothers who want their ex-husbands to pay child support or their half of the child's expenses.  I am also a mother, who unfortunately has an ex-husband who doesn't pay a dime. ]

 

Hey you,

Yeah you.  I’m sure this will get around to you some how.  Someone you know will see it and link it to you, and that’s okay.  I’m cool with that.  I am also writing this so other ex-wives understand what they have signed up for.

I just wanted to explain something to you.  I am an ex-wife too, I, like you decided to end my marriage and continue on, on my own.  More power to you!  However, there are consequences to your actions, especially when your ex-husband decides to enter a long-term relationship with a girl like me.

I am a single mother.  I do it all with out any child-support or assistance from the state (not that that is wrong, unless you abuse it… ahem).  I have worked my ass off to get to where I am today, which includes a mortgage, car, as well as day to day expenses.  I am proud of the fact that I’ve managed to make it this far, and if my accomplishments bother you, too bad.

So lets get down to what is bothering you then shall we?

From what I guess, you’re kind of salty that the man you divorced is living a stable and happy life.  My mistake, but what you could do is maybe get a “real” job, you know one with benefits and hours that let you actually spend time with your kid.  You know, the kind where you don’t drink *and* pay your taxes?  It’s not his fault that you’re broke and it’s not my fault that you’re in the same place as you were when you left him.

Speaking of money.  I’ve told you numerous times that I’ll give you half of the money that is needed for something.  I offered to pay for half of the school supply package, I have no problem paying half of baseball, I have no problem buying the kid clothes.  Hell, I called you a little over a week ago and asked what clothes he needed, “Just maybe some basketball shorts, he’s fine other than that.”  Apparently you forgot that information since “Well he needs a whole new wardrobe” popped up today.  I am not a fool.  I will not be bailing you out of whatever financial hole you have gotten yourself into.  One of the consequences of getting a divorce is becoming financially independent.  It’s called budgeting.

Also, as you may now know, money does not grow on trees.  I understand that you want to send your child to some camp that magically costs $400 (which by the way, I have internet, you shouldn’t lie).  We unfortunately do not see that as reasonable, so we cannot come up with that large of a sum of money.  We do have bills to pay, remember, we’re *not* on welfare?  As a mother myself, I cannot favor one child over another, and since I cannot afford to send my daughter to camp, I cannot afford to send your kid either.  I’m a huge fan of avoiding favoritism.

Also, I need you to remember that you’re the EX.  You are no longer apart of my boyfriends life.  You left him, so there should be no bitching.  I can’t believe that he has repeatedly had to explain to you that he doesn’t want to hear about your day.  There is no need for daily phone calls unless it is from his child or about his child.  I need you to realize that beyond the fact that you’re still alive and at least attempting to provide your child with a good life, neither of us care.  I’m sorry this seems to bother you so much, but you’d think after 2 years you would’ve gotten used to this.  I’ve tried to stay out of it, but apparently you need to hear it from me as well.  I will call you if I have to, and as you already have learned, I will tell you what’s on my mind, how things work with me, and you will listen… again.

You know, we’ve already had this conversation once.  I figured you’d get it, but apparently not.  I realize that there is an adjustment period to getting over the fact that your ex-husband is happy with out you, but honey it’s been 2 years.  Time to get moving.  You can call me the wicked-step-mother or whatever you may, because frankly it doesn’t bother me.  You just need to realize that I’m not going anywhere, I’m here to stay, and I am most definitely not a fool.  The man you left has changed as well, he’s made himself stronger and refuses to be a doormat again.

So I guess what it comes down to is – Suck it up buttercup, because this is the way it is.

 

Sincerely,

A very aggravated girlfriend.

Intolerance and Hate

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I had “friended” someone on Facebook that I knew as a child.  She was one of my mother’s friends and I looked up to her after my mom passed away.  I lost touch with her for years and the wonderful world of Facebook brought us back together.

Unfortunately the line that is drawn between us is way to great and I had to delete her.  Our political stances and morals/beliefs are too far apart and I can’t deal with that.  I’d say we’re polar opposites like me and my wonderful friend Em are,  but it’s beyond that.  I’m middle-left-leaning.  She’s so far right, I swear Obama turned gay and personally shat in her Wheaties

As most of you know two very important bills are up today that involves same-sex marriage and rights.  As most of you (should) know, I am FOR equal rights.  I acknowledge that in Christianity marriage is between a man and a woman, but I also realize that not all people are Christian.  Not all people think that way.  Frankly, I believe that marriage is between love and love.  If there so happen to be two penises in the equation, it doesn’t bother me.  If there happens to be two vaginas involved, fuck yes.

Anyway, so in my support of the gay community, I changed my profile picture and posted this:

Booyah bitches.

Booyah bitches.

 

… among other things.  Well, it attracted my mother’s friend.  Her response was to compare same sex marriage to pedophilia.  Yeah.  I’m not cool with that.  I am not even going to waste time to type why I’m not cool with that.  If you don’t know the difference between pedophilia and a same-sex relationship, or think there is any kind of comparison or lead to pedophilia, you honestly shouldn’t be reading my blog.  Or on my Facebook.  Or anywhere near my corner of the internet/county/state.

I informed her that I thought it was a disgusting comparison and was met with several links to articles about pedophilia and nasty groups that are for it.  Needless to say I told her she was a bigot and filled with hate, and that does not belong on my page, or in my life.  I stopped responding and calmed down with a friend over the phone.  Once I calmed down, I un-friended her.

Not only am I offended by her, or appalled might be more of a correct term.. but I am saddened.  I thought that maybe I could learn more of my mother through her.  I have my dad of course, but no one knows a woman like another woman.  I looked forward to selfishly getting something out the relationship but ended up with hate filling my page.

It’s odd.  I’ve always known about the bigots and the racists and such.  Hell, I’ve run into them out in every day life, but to find out someone that you looked up to and looked to as a child has such hatred in her heart is hard to swallow.  I don’t blame it on Christianity at all either, so don’t start that nonsense.  I know that most Christians aren’t like that, but it’s still hard to wrap my head around.

So I guess this is it.  Sorry Mom, I had to delete your friend.  I’m glad you’re not here anymore because I’d have to ask you what the hell you were thinking in the first place.

Spoiling Yourself, Just Do It

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Anyone who has kids will understand this, hell singletons and child-free people will get it too.  It’s something I refer to as Mommy-Guilt.  Ever since I had A, I have always felt guilty spending money on myself.  If I could finally convince myself that I need to buy some clothes (in a regular store – I’m also a thrifter), I’d never make it to the register with the *one* pair of jeans.  If I did, I’d curse myself all the way out the damned door.  If I made it to the car, 9/10 times I’d return it before I even got out of the parking lot.

I’ve always been a bit frugal (read: CHEAP), but after A was born it got out of hand.  We’d go to the store with the intention of getting everyone a few new outfits, and I could never bring myself to get myself something.  It was always “Well, the baby needs something new” or “I really don’t need more than the jeans I have, A needs new shoes (again)” or “You know, I have to pay a couple bills, I don’t need this *right* now anyway.”  It didn’t matter if I was down to two pairs of undies and my socks were ruined, I put myself off because something always came before me.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized a little bit behind my thinking, and in the process got angry at myself.  I got angry at my ex-husband for enabling it.  What I had been doing was putting myself at the bottom of the list.  I had the mindset that I was the least important, I didn’t deserve to buy things for myself.  Who was I to spend money on myself when that money could go to (insert random bill here) or something new for A, hell, new toys for the cats came before I did.  I was perfectly capable of buying another new jacket for my ex-husband or another set of baby shoes for A.  Which is not bad in and of itself, but when it came to things I needed, I neglected myself.  I felt like everyone else deserved more than I did.  I felt like a “bad-mom” or a “bad-wife” if I spent money on myself.  It seemed that surely that money could go somewhere else.

You know what?  It could go somewhere else.  I could skip getting myself clothes and save the money for the next bill.  I could skip that new CD download because A will need something soon.  I could put myself last because there will always be something else that needs me to throw money at it.  No matter what you do, there will *always* be something else you could be saving your money for.  Your kids need to be your top priority, but why aren’t you on top too?

You need to take care of yourself too.  You need to treat yourself every once in a while for your own sanity.  As a woman and a mother I know I’ll always put my child and family before myself, but after almost 27 years it finally hit me.  I deserve it.

…

So today we had to run to the store to get the animals some food and pick up milk and bread.  I took a shower and was drying my hair off and I thought about buying a new round brush so I could do my hair right.  Last week I had gotten my first haircut in over a year but had nothing to style it with.  I shrugged, I figured I’d just keep using headbands.  No big deal, it’ll grow out long enough for a clip soon enough.  I turned around, stepped on my last clip and it broke.  I picked it up and threw it away.  I’d buy another one some day.

I went to get dressed.  (I’m very thrifty – so I do have skirts, leggings and a couple pairs of jeans – I love Goodwill!)  I noticed that a lot of my socks and undies were worn.  I tossed out the ones that weren’t worth wearing anymore, or had too many toe holes.  There wasn’t much left.  I tried to think of the last time I bought some undies or socks for myself while I tried to find my bra.  I have one bra that still functions.  I found it in the laundry basket, one of the straps was almost frayed through.  I laughed, I knew the last time I had bought a bra, it was the weekend after my divorce was final… ’09.

I finished throwing on some clothes, got Noodle dressed and put on my boots.  I was super lucky at christmas, my parents bought me two pairs of boots for Winter.  I love them and have worn them daily.  I did however just buy Noodle her spring shoes, and she wanted to wear the gym shoes today.  I dug through the closet and realized there were a lot of busted and old shoes that needed tossing (we all wear our shoes until they are in pieces or Noodle outgrows them).  I started tossing the old ones in a bag, the use-able ones in a tote for the thrift.  Once I found her shoes and the closet was organized, I realized that I had one pair of gym shoes and flip flops from dollar general.  I thought about shoes for spring, then instantly thought “well, A will need clothes for spring soon, I’ll worry about it then.”

Something snapped.  It hit me, all of the things I neglect for myself.  All of the things I promised I’d buy myself when I got my promotion, all of the things I promised I’d get with my tax return when the promotion came and went and I still put myself off.  Damnit, I had bought something for everyone but me,  I wanted functional things too.

I dragged Ry and Nood out of the house and to the store.  We picked up the things we needed for the animals and the house, and then we went over to Target.  I told Ry that I was going shopping and told my mind that I *would* pay.

By the time I was at the register I had a pair of flats and a cute pair of wedges, 4 bras, headbands and a brush, bodywash (not the dollar general variety lol), post-its and pens (work), and some containers to organize pet crap with that I had been eyeing.  I had to think about anything and everything to keep my mind off of the money I was spending.  The nice register girl rang me up and I swiped my card.  The receipt printed out and I snapped at Ry and Noodle to get out to the car.

The whole way home I kept trying to justify that I needed these things.  I kept thanking Ry for “letting” me buy things (haha, I control the finances), and reassuring (no one but me) that I had money for all the bills and such.  I forced myself to take a deep breath and relax.

I do deserve nice new bras and shoes once in a while.  I do deserve to buy basic hygiene crap even if it isn’t the generic version.  I do need to put myself first once in a while.  I need to remind myself to treat myself and take care of myself too.  I need to get a haircut more than once every year, I need to buy undies and such when I need them.  I need to buy us girls new nail polish, I need to wear shoes with out holes in them.  If the bills are paid, my child has what she needs, there is plenty of food, then yes, I need to take care of myself too.

 

 

I just wish it didn’t take so long for me to realize this.

I wish that it wasn’t an acceptable way of thinking.

Happy Sunday everyone, make sure that you treat yourself once in a while.  You deserve it.

My Bitter Moment of the Day

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Today I am home with the kiddo, her tummy is upset and she didn’t get a whole lot of sleep. I picked her up from school yesterday, before she even got her jacket on she started complaining of her tummy hurting.  I didn’t think too much of it, “my tummy hurts” has become the most recent excuse to avoid trying something new at dinner.

Halfway home, her banter about how her day went cut off and a meek “I have to go to the bathroom” came out of the backseat.  ”Honey, we’re about 2 minutes from home, you’ll have to hold it.”  ”Okay” she said and the rest of the car ride was quiet.

We pulled into my driveway, and she opened her door right away.  As soon as she had two feet on the ground she bent over and threw up.  My mouth just dropped.  ”See mom, that’s why I had to go to the bathroom.”  Pretty talented if you ask me, when I have to puke, I can’t hold it for 4 blocks.

So we got inside, with me hoping she just ate too much at snack time and she made it 2 minutes before she puked again.  She puked on and off all night and didn’t sleep too well when she did manage to sleep.  I got up with my alarm this morning at 4:45, checked on her and let my boss know that I couldn’t come in today.

I’m sitting on the couch, with a half asleep child laying next to me.  PBSkids on the tv and Noodle barely paying attention unless I go to change the channel at which she bolts awake and tells me “Mom! I’m watching that!”

She’s feeling a bit better this morning, the puking has stopped for the most part and she ate some dry cereal.  She’s just out of it and wants to relax.  Which is fine with me, we’ve been relaxing on the couch together and I’ve been getting some of the laundry done.  We’re going to try something light for lunch in a little bit.  Hopefully that goes well.

…

This last week has been rough on me for a multitude of reasons.  I haven’t been feeling well to top everything off, which just makes for a cranky me in general.  So each day, on my way to work I think about how everything has turned out.  I’m happy I suppose, but the grass is always greener.

- Regardless of my feelings now or anything else, I am glad I divorced A’s dad.  He wasn’t good for me, and I’m not so sure about for A either.  I am glad I took that step and I will never regret the action to have a safer, happier life.-

Life is stable over here finally.  Both Ryan and I have good jobs with steady paychecks, he likes his job which makes getting him up in the morning that much easier.  Noodle has a school in which she (and I) love, she has wonderful teachers and is thriving.

It just bugs me.  Up until a few months before my divorce, I was a stay at home mom.  In my family (this does not pertain to you, it’s not meant to offend you) it was important to me to be able to stay home with my kid(s).  I could have never predicted that my marriage would turn out the way it would and I’m lucky I’ve been employed since then, but shit.  I finally have a job with normal hours (I’ve been there for 2 years next month) so that makes life a little easier, but I’d still rather be at home and taking care of my kid.  I never thought I’d end up in the work force full-time, I always assumed that until A was out of the house, I’d be a part-timer so I could focus on her and our home.

So post-divorce I’m a working mother.  It’s just aggravating and I can feel my knuckles go white on that drive into the office.  It’s hard especially when shit at the office has been annoying me.  So I’m driving in to a job that makes me want to lobotomize myself, because of which my daughter goes to school 2 hours early and stays 1 hour late (6:30ish to 4:30ish) (which I realize isn’t as bad as it was before my schedule change but still).  I drive in to a job that I automatically lose 1/3 of my pay to the extra hours at daycare (the ex was ordered to pay half of school/daycare costs and child support, but that hasn’t happened since I was divorced in ’09). I drive into a job that I normally like, where I make decent pay (despite A’s school fees) but because of it, dinner becomes a chore, daycare spends more time with my kid than I do, and weekends are so jammed up with shit from during the week that there isn’t a whole lot of time for fun.

The topic has come up with Ryan that once he gets his raise in a couple months, that I can stay home.  Trust me on this one, there has been numerous times this past week that that seemed like a great idea.  It’s hard to think it’s not.  However, the grass is always greener.  Even if Ryan makes enough for a comfortable living, we’d still lose the money that my job brings in to supplement and save.   I wouldn’t have money for the extra things for the kids and wouldn’t be able to put money in our “going-on-vacation-finally” fund or “get-the-hell-out-of-my-house-kids!” fund.  Two things that I definitely like putting money in.  Plus with this economy, I don’t think I could walk away from a job I (mostly) like that is pretty damned stable, and rely solely on one income again.  You never know what could happen, and I know I’d regret leaving my job if Ryan ever lost his.

 

The grass is always greener, I’ll just keep repeating that.  In the meantime I’m off to get the kid in the bath and find something for lunch.

What Family Means and Blood Brings Troubles

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I’m aware that I’ve touched on this subject before, if not numerous times, but I need to get these words out of my head and into the world. 

Family to me isn’t as traditional as most.  Of course I have my immediate family; my Dad, Sister, Step Sister and Brother and step Mom, not to mention my daughter.  However, short of a couple cousins (whom I adore), a handful of friends replaces my extended family.  That’s just the way it is, there is no regret, dislike or anything else, it just worked out like that.  As kids my sister and I were never real close with my Dad’s side of the family, and once my Mom passed away her side of the family kind of drifted off (as did us kids).

During all of this, I met several great people who looked after me.  A couple of my friend’s moms are 2nd, 3rd and 4th moms to me, as well as random friends who have known me for years.  These people slowly became what I considered family.  There was no blood involved, just friendships that developed over time, and because of that, we spent time together when we wanted to see each other instead of at obligatory family functions.

That is what family is to me.

…

Some of you know  I have a “half-sister”.  My mother had a baby when she was in her late teen years, and instead of becoming a teen-aged mother she gave her daughter up for adoption.  My “half-sister” is 16 years older than me and apparently lives down south (I thought North, but whatever.)  I’ve only met her once in person, and I was too young to remember.

When she was in her twenties (late teens?) , she found us (through an aunt of mine I believe) and began to contact my parents.  I honestly don’t know my mother’s true opinion of it, but my first memory of her isn’t pleasant.  Lets just go ahead and say that the year before and after my mother passed, my half sister didn’t exactly make it easy on us.  (Think Dad unplugging the phone at 2am when we’re getting drunk-dialed-screamed at from another state, while cancer-ridden-mother tries to sleep.) After she blew off my mom’s funeral she disappeared again for about 7 years.

She surfaced again when I was 18 ( thanks to the same aunt – also the same aunt who blabbed to my Dad that I was pregnant with Noodle – Seeing a pattern here?) and called me.  This time it was to talk about how the fact that she was adopted, that my mother chose to let two wonderful people raise her was the reason she had a drug problem.  She then berated me for choosing to give my own son up for adoption, and then asked to live with me.

After that conversation, fast forward another 4 years or so and she resurfaces.  This time she’s pregnant and needs advice on adoption.  Oy.

Now apparently she’s straightened her life out.  Facebook allowed her to find me and my younger sister, and after almost a year, things finally went south.

[ My sister and I, especially I, have never pursued a relationship with her.   Yes, she is blood related, but we also have never met her (where we can remember) and only know her by the warpath she left behind.  Being friends with her on Facebook made me uncomfortable, it's hard to talk to someone who expects a full relationship out of you when you've never met, much less have nothing but blood in common.  I didn't mind a few jabs here and there and a "like" on a photo, but beyond that I shied away from it.]

Today she messaged me… again.  This time she asked if she should continue to attempt a relationship with my sister and I.  I was honest.  I told her that I didn’t see a point, that we could most definitely keep in touch via social networking but beyond that I couldn’t see a relationship developing and that I wasn’t really interested in working on one.  I told her my views on family and encouraged her to appreciate her loving parents and her own daughter and friends.

The response I got back set me off.  She resorted back to what she always did.  Her Bio family means so much to her, and when Mom died, it hurt her real bad.  - Excuse me while I try not to get mad again -

Yeah.  You know what?  ’97 may have been a long time ago, but it’s still pretty damn fresh to me.  I have absolutely no sympathy.  There is a huge difference between losing a bio-mom whom you met once (and then ditched the funeral for – as well as both grandparents funerals) while you’re in your twenties… and losing the Mom who you saw every-single-fucking-day when you’re in 5th and 3rd grade.  Big-fucking-difference.  It would be different if she hadn’t spent years in a drug-induced stupor, harassing me and more importantly harassing my mom when she was dying.  It would be different if she didn’t wait until she was in her 40s to try and nurture a relationship.  But it’s not.  That’s the way it is, and that’s the way it’s going to be.

I promptly told her what I wrote above ^^, as well as the fact that she shouldn’t go around digging up 16 year old graves to make herself happy.  I wished her well and again encouraged her to appreciate her own family and friends and that I didn’t want to dig up aforementioned grave again.  Then I promptly un-friended her and blocked her.

Maybe I should have had a little compassion, maybe I should have handled it better.  Truthfully?  I don’t care.  I lost all compassion for the situation years ago when I was berated for the same choice she later made.  I lost that compassion when she blamed putting drugs up her nose on my mother (which FYI : No one forced you to do drugs!).  I don’t care.

I’m glad it’s finally done, I hope that’s the last tie I have to cut.  It took me 26 years to divorce myself from her, and I wish it happened earlier.  She needs to move on, she needs to love her own family and nurture the relationships she’s taking for granted.  She needs to realize that we don’t know her, and we don’t want to get to know her.  We’ve been trying to heal the best we can, fix our own issues and problems, and speaking for myself, I cannot take on hers too, again.  I’ve been spending the last couple of years eliminating negativity from my life, and that was one of the relationships I put off getting rid of.

I forgive her for the person she used to be.  But forgiveness isn’t for her, it’s for me, it’s letting myself move on, and get on with my life.  I don’t want to be reminded of what she put my family through and what horrible emotion she invoked.  I forgive her for what she did and has done, but that doesn’t mean I want to be best friends.  I want to be done.

 

 

Family is not blood.  Family is love and caring.  Family is made of the people that stand by you day in and day out.  Family is made of people who love each other, not for their own gain, but just because.

Long Days :: Busy Mind

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Please excuse the rambling, it’s been a long day.

There’s some days where I get a little bit down about having Crohns Disease.  It drags on my head, sticks in the back of my mind.  I don’t even have to be feeling all that sick.  Sometimes all it takes is a little reminder, like visiting my GI doctor for a check up, or scheduling a Remicade appointment.  Of course there are the days where I feel sub-par, and the days where I flat out feel like road kill… and ironically, those days I don’t get down at all.  I spend those days focused on making it through, it’s not until I feel better that I get down about spending that time sick.

It’s difficult sometimes to think that this is a disease that I’ll have for the rest of my life, it’s even more difficult knowing that I could be in remission for years, and it could spring back up.  Just that alone makes me a tad depressed.  However, those days that I feel 100%, which thankfully are more and more now, I feel like I can continue to take on the world.  It takes the good days to remember that I will and have gotten through it.  Crohn’s Disease will not get me down.

What really kicks me in the ass is when I have a down right horrible Crohn’s day, or if I’m just particularly down, is coming home.  I’ll be driving home from work/school/the moon and be in near tears.  Yet, when I get home, open the door and shoo away the dogs, I feel better.  Now, once I get home I realize how lucky I am.  I am proud of what I’ve done for myself and for Noodle, and now that my house is more like my home it’s an example of it.  My home is an example of what I’ve been through and what I’ve overcome.  So I may not be over the moon happy, but knowing how far I’ve come despite having a chronic illness, it shakes more reality into my busy head.

So I may have Crohn’s Disease, but that’s part of who I am, and part of what’s made me strong.

Painting and Splurging

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For those of you who have been to my house or have been keeping up on my blog for the past couple of years or so, you’d know that I’ve been slowly remodeling my house.  When I moved in, it had cheap crappy carpet, shoddy drywall job, and anything that could have been ghetto rigged, was.

I bought this house from a guy who used to flip houses for a living.  He apparently had like 3 going at a time, he’d buy the crappy foreclosures (mine was owned by drug addicts, yay!) and flip them to sell.  Well, he bought my house.  Started the work…. and the economy tanked.  His other houses weren’t selling, and he didn’t have much money to put in on this one.  Hence, the cheap price I picked it up at.

So at first (after the divorce settled down) I started doing little things.  Just basic repairs, then my (then) 2 year old went through a phase which involved dumping syrup on my carpet.  I dealt with it for as long as possible, then decided to tear it up.  My dad and I spent an evening tearing up all the carpet in the front room and hallways and chucking it.  He brought over some laminate “wood” tiles. You lay them just like you would with real wood, but with an adhesive.  Super easy, and it looks pretty damn close to real since you lay them in planks.  Best $300 investment ever (and I even have some left over!!).

During the “blast music and lay floor” fiasco, I met Ryan.  Who I honestly think fell in love with fixing my house as much as he did with me.  With in a few months, he was painting my living room, hallways, bathroom and bedroom.  Just a bit of caulk, spackle and paint made it look ten times better.  The “flipper” had used a flat paint that was sooo cheap, if you tried to scrub it (like when a toddler draws on the wall) all of the paint would come off… so a bit of extra money went into the quality of the paint.

Over the summer, we built a shed, spent too much time in the garden, and besides replacing the water heater and fixtures in the bathroom, it all kind of stalled.  (I guess you can’t really say stalled but whatever.)  I think now that spring is in the air, Ryan’s got the urge to be Mr. Fix it again.  Him and Noodle are now re-painting the kitchen and Ryan spent a handful of hours designing a bigger shed for the backyard.  We’re trying to decide on the size of a deck and the placement of the front fence (which looks like eta of 2014 summer).  While he’s at all his man stuff, I spend time planning my garden, coming up with new ways to organize and be cost effective.

Lets just say it’s working.  The house is looking great, and (even though I’ve been putting off pricing siding) with the money saved just from improvements (energy wise) and DIY instead of contracting, I’m treating my little painters to a greasy lunch.  Italian Beefs, Chicken Strips, Buffalo Wings and fries are coming by delivery… and they have no idea.
What a great way to end a weekend. :)

Coffee In the Mornings

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There is nothing I like better than a quiet morning and a cup of coffee.  It gives me some time to relax and get ready for the day.  Kind of setting the day off on the the right foot.  During the summer it’s even nicer, before work I’ll sit out on the front step and drink my coffee there.  Usually it is dead silent still (I get up for work pretty early) and I can enjoy nature.  Winter puts a damper on that, but on the weekends, I’ll usually get up a bit early and relax on the couch and read the news.

Coffee has always equaled peace to me.  A time to wind down and clear my head.  I think I’ve been drinking coffee since I was 14 years old, and it still tastes the best with a journal and pen laid out in front of me.  I’ve found it hard to write on occasion if I don’t have a hot cup of coffee, it’s become that much of a routine in my life (Well gee, after 12 years I guess that was to be expected).

Sitting down with a cup of coffee has kept my brain in line more times that I’d like to admit.  When I’m upset or stressed out, sometimes the solution is a few quiet moments and some rich coffee.  It gives me that opportunity to breathe and think about what’s going on and become more rational.  One of the perks, that shows up eventually, is that it gives me a chance to reflect (not only on the stupid stuff but..) on the good things in my life.  It gives me a chance to realize that a particular problem is not world-ending, but in fact I am lucky and that I need to be more grateful.

…

I’ve been journaling since I learned how to write.  There was something alluring about writing down your world in a book, and as I grew older, I began to like the stereotypical coffee, coffee house and journal time.  Now that I have a child, I have my own desk and “quiet spot” to write in.  Journaling (or blogging, or writing stupid shit on a napkin at 4 am because that’s the only thing you have to write on) I believe has made me a better person, it’s something I think that if people tried a few times, they would eventually pick up.  I bought Noodle her first journal not too long ago.  She now makes a big production out of sitting in bed with me in the evenings so we can write together.  Her journaling is a lot more simple, but it gives her something to do and a way to explain things (with horrible kid spelling) ie: Today we went to the forest preserve, that made me happy.  It’s also something that her and I BOTH do, not totally “together” but at the same time with each other.  She knows that when she gets older, and I’m ancient, or when she asks as an adult, she’ll get all of my journals (I have more than 40 at this point)… and that will be a great way for her and whatever grandchildren I’ve accumulated at that point to learn about me.  Hopefully it’s a trait she develops as well as she gets older.

…

So for now, I’m off to make some more coffee. Let the weekend begin.