Happy Holidaze

Merry Belated Christmas from my house.

This whole divorce thing has plenty of shit attached to it that you don't so much think about at first glance....my favorite are the visitation shenanigans. Specifically the ex screwing with the schedule more often than not- being late, being early, ditching it altogether, or picking the kids up only to return them anywhere from ten minutes to two hours later- which yes, has happened on two memorable occasions.

Not having your kids half of the weekends of your life sucks. But even worse is knowing that the person you loathe more than anyone else in the world is seeing their faces instead. Especially on holidays.

I spent 12 years as a homemaker. Holidays were a Very Big Deal at our house. The whole family would come over, (one year I had 32 people for Thanksgiving dinner) We always had a ton of food and decorations (Three Christmas trees. Three. Full sized...need I say more?) and I put hours and hours into it.

To say things aren't the same anymore is an understatement, but we did have a good holiday this year, in spite of our changed circumstances.

There were some memorable bright spots. Like my son (my TEENAGED son) texting me from his dad's parents' house Christmas Eve to make sure I would call to read them "The Night Before Christmas"...as I have done every year since they were born. And the kids clustering around the speaker phone to chant it with me in unison, while telling me they loved me and missed me...sniff...

And the VCB's (large, amazing, **insert your superlative here**) family was just wonderful. Loving, supportive, fun. He wisely surrounded me with them until my kids came back. And he gave me some really cool shit too including these and this, and OMFG a whole new set of bedroom furniture, the nicest stuff I have ever had. (Side note of no consequence whatsoever: a king sized bed is really, really vast....)

So, Christmas.

We got a metric assload of snow the weekend before Christmas and Jackass ditched the kids for the first few days of his holiday visit so he could plow. I did enjoy making cookies and watching movies with the kids that weekend though- his loss; snow days with kids are great fun.

However, him skipping those days meant I had to literally do ALL of my Christmas shopping in three evenings, after work.

I slept a total of fifteen hours, in four days. This did not, clearly, make me my best self; but, incredibly, I DID finish the buying and wrapping and cleaning and cooking; after working nine hour days. (see also: "How to pull a holiday celebration completely out of your ass!")

Go, me!

The kids came home and we did the Christmas thing, and much merriment was made. The oldest got a bike and a (used) laptop and some stuff from the VCB that made his little heart go pitter-pat. The middle child is in total iPod nano love and actually figured out how to ride her electric scooter; while baby girl got not only the coveted Zhu-Zhu pets, an electric scooter of her very own, and also! a real! live! hamster!! (Which rears up on it's tiny back legs and hisses at us when we get near it. Like a snake. I think it may be possessed. Am slightly afraid. ahem. anyway....)

Jackass commenced dicking around with me on the visitation for New Year's almost immediately upon returning the kids, so, yeah. That's been....time consuming. sigh. And of course since he has no more child support reviews scheduled, he hasn't paid his support this month either. The man is nothing if not predictable, what can I say.

My health insurance through work is about to kick in, and none too soon. I have had a headache for three days that is ominously sinus-infection-like in nature and my eye sockets are throbbing. I am really glad it waited til after Christmas though. Sometimes it really is the little things you find yourself appreciating.

Authentically edited.

I read a lot of blogs. Food blogs, parenting blogs, writing blogs...and of course MommyBlogs. I read at least a stock handful a day, and I am always discovering new ones. Most don't hold my interest very long. My own blog probably wouldn't, even.

The ones that DO keep me coming back for more have some things on common. First of all the writing has to be good- grammatically correct at minimum, but hopefully clever and insightful as well. I have to either like, admire, relate to, respect, or loathe the writer- or at least their subject matter.

But most of all I have to feel like it's real.

And that's where I have my own biggest issues with blogging.

I'd LOVE to relate all of my trials and tribulations somewhere, God knows. I need an outlet badly. At times throughout the past two years I have thought my head would explode just from all the shit I couldn't talk about. I've been in counseling, I've had a great attorney, and even with them- people legally obligated to keep my confidence- I have been very selective what I have chosen to reveal.

I've always been that way to a degree- guarded, private.... But the divorce has made it a hundred times worse. Everything that Jackass CAN turn against me, he will. Protecting my kids means I can't give him any more ammunition. Even a funny story about one of them could potentially bite me on the ass in court. Do I know he has found my blog? No. But am I sure he hasn't? I never will be. He knows I write. He knows I blogged during the marriage. (It was a HUGE bone of contention.) He won't stop seeking ways to hurt me, this much I know.

I was a victim of domestic violence and psychological abuse. I was raped- twice. I have a protective order against my former husband. I don't have the luxury of feeling safe anymore, and I haven't, for years, with very few exceptions. There have been very few situations in my life when I remember NOT being anxious, not looking over my shoulder. I trust very few people. A few of the people I have trusted in the past few years have turned out to be malicious, vindictive, and cruel. One in particular will haunt me for a long time. I may never feel completely secure ever again.

So I struggle with being truthful and how much to write about and what to say here. I admire the women who blog openly and honestly about their lives and their children and the painful issues they face. I truly learn from them, cheer for them and love them. For their strength and courage in sharing, I am grateful and humbled.

I have so much to say and so much fear about saying any of it that half the time I erase posts before I publish them. What good is that?? Why bother with this?

Not Dead. Yet.

It's been a long month of extremely hard work. Not just for me but for the friends and family who helped- and here I give big props to the VCB; he lifted, packed, hauled, schlepped, fixed, installed, patched, paid, ran, smiled, consoled, listened and just endured with endless good grace and patience, and kindness.

The end result being, we are moved, and (mostly) unpacked. The kids are pretty happy here so far. We have (free!) cable and wifi; everybody has their own rooms again and the new schools are going to be alright. The after-school situation seems to be going well. (Thank GOD!)

I have gotten the kids to school with packed lunches and brushed hair and signed homework every day, and myself to work on time; and so I can safely say, we are adjusting just fine. My job is going as well as can be expected; not the job of my dreams but I am employed and soon I will have health insurance again.

The house (finally) closed. After three delays and twice as much money in various fees and many more demands from the buyers than I will ever believe reasonable. I have sold 5 houses before and never had this much hassle ever. Amen and good riddance. No I didn't make any money off of it and that's no exaggeration. But at least it is gone.

And I decided I missed my blog too much to let a few little dramas and some random wierdness take it away from me.

It snowed last night and it's been freezing cold all day. I made chicken soup and brownies from scratch tonight. As I type this the kids are snuggled on the sofa in new jammies, freshly bathed, watching Harry Potter.

I almost feel like a real Mom again.

The here and now...

I'm two weeks into the new job and liking it pretty well. I had missed the whole construction thing quite a bit more than I realized. The job itself isn't hard, just the usual stress of any fast-paced environment. It's had it's ups and downs but I think it's gonna be fine long-term.

The first week was pretty godawful in terms of Things That Conspired to Make My Life Suck. My first DAY on the job all three kids came down with Swine Flu. And I ended up in the emergency clinic with all three of them feverish at 10pm in the freezing pouring rain; and THEN the VCB and I had the motherfucking superbowl of all fights.

All I can really say is that my mother is an angel on Earth and truly saved my ass. And that the VCB and I have had some pretty serious and intense Discussions. We (somehow) got thru it, and we are still together, and my mother (somehow) did not get sick, and my daughter (somehow) didn't end up hospitalized. Thank you, God, Prozac, and Tamiflu. (And a big fat SUCK IT to the stupid H1N1 vaccines we stood in line for three days before they got sick- that was a great big waste of time, and hello!? I don't even vaccinate and that sure as shit didn't change my opinion! Just sayin'.....)

Actually, getting into a groove with the kids has proven to be the hardest thing by far- keeping up with the laundry, getting out the door on time, remembering to sign school papers, etc. All I want to do at night when I walk in the door is decompress- take a hot shower, drink a beer and listen to music for an hour. Surprise- the kids want Dinner! And Attention! and to tell me everything they have been up to in the past nine hours. And they all want to do this at the same time. Preferably while hanging off my body.

Oh and did I mention that I am supposed to move in a week? And that two days after THAT I'm supposed to close on my house, which needs about a dozen repairs that I can neither a) do myself or b) afford to hire out. (The VCB is all calm and nonchalant about this. I am making up for his composed demeanor with extreme insomnia, anxious diarrhea, a nervous tic in my eye that Will. Not. Stop. and the odd panic attack. Because seriously OMGWTF?!?! Too much to process, that's what it is.)

So it's small wonder I haven't been posting. I've been trying not to swat the kids away like gnats, and putting on my "good, interested Mom" face while they tell me the same story for the fiftieth time; and doing another load of laundry, and pouring cereal and brushing hair and administering medicine and signing paperwork and packing. And I need to register the kids for school and get utilities turned on (and off) and oh, yeah, you know...close on my house.

God, I'm tired.

In which I am at a loss.

So. The VCB, for the first time ever, asked me not to call him.

He's THAT angry about this.

And I don't know what to do. I tried backing out of the new house (which technically I *can* do since even though I gave the owner a deposit, I haven't signed a lease yet and the deposit is fully refundable.)

That didn't make him any happier. He insists that I move, anyway.

A few months ago we were looking at another house, together. But for various reasons that didn't work out. The conversations we've had about "us" since then haven't been all that rosy. The past few weeks have been difficult and we actually had a conversation about not being ready to commit to things as they currently stand.

Obviously, we weren't talking about getting married or moving in together in any specific timeframe. Which doesn't mean I thought those possibilities were off the table so to speak, just that it wasn't in our immediate future. There's been no talk, no daydreaming or fantasizing about a future together, or a wedding, or anything at all beyond the upcoming weekend and whether or not one or the other of us will have our kids. (well, that's not exactly true. There's been none of that on his part...which is rather a discouraging place to be with the man in your life when you're really close to 40 and really love your partner, but I digress...)

I thought that when I tried to talk to him about the possibility of the new house, he told me that I had to do what was best for my kids. I never once heard him say anything that was close to "Please don't do that" or, "I don't want to wait that long to live with you"...even though I talked specifically to him all day Friday about how I was waiting for word on the job so that I could apply to rent the house. He says he didn't know I would actually DO it.

And now that it's happening, he is angry. He says I have chosen to disregard our future and move on without him. He points to my previous blog post that said I "knew" the move would be for more than a year. Which wasn't my intention at all. When I wrote that, I somewhat stupidly was thinking I'd be out of my lease by the holidays next year, and if we were in a better place together, we could plan to spend the kids' school holidays moving in together or getting married.

I did the best I could with all of the variables I had to factor in, within the time frame I had to make a decision in. But leaving him behind was never part of my plan. I thought that giving us some more space and time- in which he wasn't feeling pressured to help me financially or to commit to me, or to move us forward- would be a good thing. A good place to build something better for everyone involved.

I thought this was going to be a positive move for my family, and thus a good thing for he and I. But apparently, that light was a train after all.

Because I'm kind of busy...

• The house, it is under contract!!! This is excellent news even if I am not making much money on it. It will be done. Finished. OVER. In less than a month! YES!!
• The kids are very excited about the idea of moving, mostly. The whole changing schools thing is causing some heartburn but I am confident it will be fine.
• The VCB is really upset that I made this decision. In my mind I had tried a few times to talk to him about it and he'd told me to "do whatever was in my kids' best interest"- which clearly, this IS, despite my having mixed feelings about putting off any commitment between us for a year-....but in HIS mind, I went ahead and made a unilateral decision about the future of our relationship without discussing it with him. To be quite fair to him, he has made a million decisions over the course of the past year that prioritized the relationship, even when it was really unpleasant or inconvenient for him. So I see why he is upset, but I just don't know what to do about it. I don't mean that to sound flip, I really wish there was some middle ground that would make the situation better.
• I am pretty sure things in life generally work out the way they're supposed to, and if we are meant to be, we will be fine, even if we have to go another year under separate roofs.
• The garage sale is turning into a Major Undertaking. I have so much crap I am ready to get rid of, and not move, it's just insane. I need weeks to get this done, plus a shovel and a bonfire and a large truck.
• If it rains Saturday I may throw myself off a bridge.
• Jackass took Austin to a Metallica concert Saturday night. I am livid.
• My landlord was furious about me moving but I may have already found him his next tenant. So maybe everything IS working out for the best.
• Or maybe the light I see at the end of this ridiculously long and twisted tunnel is the headlamp of another train.
• We shall see. Stay tuned.....

Solitude

It's late Friday night, the kids are with their male parental unit, and the VCB has his kids. This means I am home alone.

Just me, the Mac, two BlackBerries (really, don't ask) and the Mifi modem in my wrought iron bed. A cat or two may try to sneak in here since their usual bedmates- my daughters- are gone, but a swift kick quickly reminds them that they are Not Welcome in my room.

Today was brutal and exhausting and awesome all rolled into one.

I was productive. I got the garage cleaned up, ready for the garage sale except for sorting kids' clothes by size and pricing everything. There's still a bunch of stuff in the house I need to part with- more clothes and about a thousand books, and don't get me started on the baskets and dishes. (I was a Henn Consultant for years. I have about 5o place settings. And more baskets than I can count.) I should be able to cull most of what I want to get rid of this week and be ready for the mother of all yardsales next weekend.

But the whole day was spent waiting, waiting, waiting....

It was like a concentrated version of the past year and a half.

My realtor had emailed that there was an offer (a serious offer, he said) about to come in on my house, which never showed up.

I was waiting on that job offer.

And wholly dependent upon that was my waiting to be able to submit a rental application for the House of My Dreams.

Like all good things, the HoMD doesn't come without it's price. I have spent all day pondering the price, and whether it's one I am an idiot to pay.

See, the VCB and I have been in negotiations for months. The whole "Where is the relationship going?" talk that every couple gets to a point of having. Both of us were renting month-to-month and freely divorced as of earlier this year. We had looked at houses together. I had thought for quite some time that my next move would be into a house with him.

And obviously, that's not what happened. The VCB and I have had some ups and downs. We aren't ready for the next step yet, as much as my heart aches to say otherwise. So instead of stagnating and waiting in limbo, in a place that makes none of my kids nor me happy, and frankly, never has been more than a source of misery and a symbol of all that we lost, I am moving forward, alone. I am signing a lease, by myself, on a house that isn't compatible with the VCB's 'house dealbreakers'; a house that I will be living in for at least another year, but probably longer.

It's a great house, in a great town. I am beyond thrilled that I finally get to live there (even if I am a tad nervous about having neighbors again after ten years in the sticks.) It just doesn't have a VCB in it, and for that I can't help but be terribly sad.

I'm sick of sleeping alone.

And now for a bit of good news...

I got the job!

AND THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!

Thank you, Universe.

Now I am going out to celebrate :)

Phantom pain while waiting

There's a lot swirling around me today.

I'm working on cleaning up THIS:

(Don't judge me, haters. It wasn't this bad before I started "cleaning" it. Sigh) So I can have a garage sale and get rid of (read: not move!) all this crap.

Meanwhile I am waiting for:

Word on whether or not I have been hired

Dropping off the application for the rental house of my dreams, if I am hired, look below-great, right?

While cleaning, I found my wedding dress in a box. My thousand dollar confection of beaded ivory silk brocade, a true fit-for-a-princess off the shoulder ballgown with a six foot train. The dress was a size two before they took it in so much the seamstress was worried she would massacre the beadwork. I had not set eyes on that dress in over a decade, so of course, like a moron I tried it on.

Fucker still fit. I couldn't (can't) believe it.

And while I was zipping it up the thought came to me, that the last time I wore this dress, my grandfather was holding me in his arms and laughing, dancing with me and telling me he loved me, smiling and proud.

Have you ever just collapsed under the weight of a memory that real? I did. I sank to my knees on the floor in my gown and cried.

I don't know what to do with the dress. I don't want to keep it but because of that memory, I don't think I can let it go yet either.

Don't mind me, I'm just dreaming here...

I have a job interview tomorrow. Unbeknownst to me I applied at a company owned by friends of the VCB. When I told him where the interview was (mostly to make sure that the ex hadn't done business with the company; if he had, I figured it wasn't worth going to the interview) he called the owner and took the guy to lunch.

Supposedly the job's mine "as long as I'm not retarded or anything." Which is not to say I am counting any chickens; there are many variables still in play- like hours, pay, etc.

I'm nervous. I really like working for my friend as her husband, they basically pay me to write and talk to people- my two favorite things to do for FREE. And I have enjoyed being able to be home with my kids during this period of transition for our family. They really needed me here. Childcare would have broken my already stretched budget entirely, at $250/ week for after school care. Right now the plan, if I get this job, is to try letting them do the latchkey thing and see how it works. If it doesn't my mom has graciously volunteered to help out. I am nervous about that but I really don't see that I have much choice but to try it.

And.

I had to go to social services today and re-up my food stamps (they make you resubmit all your income/expense stuff every 6 months to stay qualified) and on the way I had to pass the office where this job would be located. Guess what I saw four houses down from the office, on the main street in the quaint, adorable town I have wanted to live in forever?

A "For Rent" sign in the front yard of a really, really great house. And of course I stopped and called the number. The owner was really kind, he had a key hidden and he let me go inside and poke around. It's available, it's affordable, it's adorable. And if we lived there my girls wouldn't have to share a bedroom, we'd have more room, be in a wonderful neighborhood, and we would be in walking distance of a library, a grocery store, a convenience store, a college, a farmer's market, a train station, two parks, a hair salon, a dance studio, three restaurants, the girls' school, and less than a two minute walk to this job. My kids would be safe there after school. I wouldn't need childcare.

I could see us really happy there, long term.

I know, wanting this is a really stupid idea for someone with my luck. I am practically inviting heartbreak, more disillusionment, depression. Surely the stars will never align to allow such a perfect set of circumstances to fall into my lap all at once. But damn, aren't we due a break in the near future??

Casualties

First, a little prayer of gratitude.

Oh Thank GOD it's Tuesday and my kids are back at school.

Thank you, thank you, thank you sweet baby Jesus. Amen.

PS: please let the next three day weekend fall on their dad's visitation?

It wasn't ALL bad, my mother took Autumn off my hands all day yesterday after taking one look at my crazy-eyes. I also decided that a few bucks' worth of flowers for the outside was a worthwhile investment in my sanity, and filled an old rusty red wagon with pansies and mums.

A wreath on the door and a quick sweep with the mower later and it no longer looks like an abandoned property.

But I'm really glad no passers-by can see the inside of the house.

The funny thing about trying to get organized is the mess you inevitably make in the process. Wow. Maybe that's just me though? I dunno. It always seems to get wayyy worse before it gets better, and I always seem to conveniently forget that when I decide to tackle these things. I am now up to my knees in laundry, I have three boxes of stuff I "found" in the garage and need to find homes for inside my house, and six bags of more stuff that are destined for the garage sale but haven't quite been removed from the house yet. And in the process of 'organizing' I have totally neglected the regular house stuff like sorting mail, taking out the garbage and doing the dishes.

I'm just going to play "Hey! look over there! flowers! not over there at those piles of stuff!!"

Or at this giant bruise on my forehead that I got when I walked into that shelf in the garage head on, that I couldn't see because I was wearing a baseball cap, and very nearly knocked myself unconscious yesterday. How long does the headache and slight dizziness last after a blow to the head, anyway?

This better be one profitable garage sale. I'm going to need the money to pay the medical bills to treat the random klutz-related injuries that I incur getting ready for the damn thing.

Three day weekend in progress.

So. Where were we? Oh yes. That court date I posted about earlier.

Yeah. Well. None of the three courts (J&DR, Circuit, General District) in our County knew what the hell I was calling about when I started trying to find the when/ where of the hearing with Giant Mortgage Company. My lawyer's office was closed. The Clerk of Court YELLED at me...nobody seemed to have any idea why my lawyer had insisted I be in court Friday. Long story short, I had a panic attack and puked by the side of the road and turned my ass around and came home. I hope my lawyer doesn't kill me.

So, that was fun.

Then later Friday I got a call from a very Friendly Policewoman from a neighboring county.

She wanted to make sure I hadn't committed a crime.

We chatted for a few minutes, I (somewhat amusedly, until I realized that she was serious) assured her I hadn't, in fact, committed said offense- or, you know, ANY offense..... she said she didn't THINK I had, but hey, you know, just doing her job, she was sorry to have to bother me, etc...

That was....surreal. And really, damn.... just...wow. I don't know what else to say about it.

Except what else can I expect on a day when Obama wins the Nobel Prize?

Maybe it was a full moon. Or something. Shrug.

Saturday was an improvement of sorts, in that it featured a sexy man, and less police involvement. The VCB and I took my kids to the local Italian Food Festival and then the local Folk Festival. We ran into some friends, had a nice dinner out, and generally did our best to enjoy what would have been a really nice day. If my kids had behaved like human beings. Which they did not. Ahem. My daughters seemed determined to be as annoying as possible. They talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked incessantly, and whined and asked about forty thousand repetitive meaningless nonsensical questions and had to pee every fifteen minutes and needed a jacket and a drink of water and a funnel cake and THIS, and THAT and hung off me like the literal fruit of my loins that they are, and just generally behaved like asshats of every imaginable variation for about ten solid hours.

Man, I love my kids sometimes. Saturday, however, the flow of motherly love was less than effortless.

It was so extreme that VCB quite sensibly -and forgiveably- 'opted out' of time with my girls today; instead, he and the boy did some male bonding in front of his (excessively large) TV over NASCAR. Meanwhile I took it upon myself to tackle some household tasks I had been ignoring, er, procrastinating about. Like sorting the two years' worth of outgrown/ out of season clothes in the girls' room. And cleaning out my van, which still had remnants of August and September's road trips rattling around inside, and a fascinating (and frighteningly revealing!) assortment of fast-food specimens fossilizing slowly under the seats.

Whereas the word of the day Friday was "Surreal"; and Saturday was "OMGWILLYOUTWOPLEASEJUSTSHUTUPFORFIVEMINUTES???" today can be summed up as "Ewwww".

It was A Very Gross Day overall. There's nothing like an archeological expedition under your kids' bed and under your van's seats to make you feel like a really grungy and disgusting slob. I cannot believe we have not all died of the plague yet.

And now I have at least a dozen bags and boxes of outgrown kids' clothes, as well as at least that many boxes/ bags of books, toys, and household items that I need to get rid of. I sense a garage sale in my immediate future. Or a bonfire. Honestly, while I do indeed need the money, a garage sale really seems like a giant pain in the ass. Maybe some enterprising burglar will notice I have nicely packaged all my excess flotsam and jetsam and haul it all away?

I didn't think so either. Damnit.

So. Let's review:

I tried, but didn't make it to court. Wtf, me?

I didn't commit a crime. (again! That's 14,003 days in a row of law abiding citizenship. Give or take a few leap years.) Yay, me!

My kids were really fucking irritating.

Despite this, I resisted the overwhelming temptation to sell them for a nickel/trade them for a good spot in the portajohn line. High five, me!

I am a damn slob and so are my kids. But I cleaned! Go, us!

But also I am too lazy even to want to sell the evidence of my slovenliness. For money. So, wtf, me?

Tomorrow the three day weekend concludes, so I shall reserve judgement on the weekend for another 24 hours. Let's all keep our fingers crossed that I continue to be a productive member of society, shall we?

Hi HO....

It's back to court I go.

Second time in seven days. Today I go to head off the foreclosure on my house (the one that I own, that Jackass had us evicted from and then failed to pay for as ordered.)

Last week the judge granted me an emergency injunction to stop said foreclosure; today is the scheduled hearing by the Giant Mortgage Company. I have to go and wave my injunction in their faces if they try anything funny. My attorney is out of town so I get to go do this all. alone. With a sinus infection, and antibiotics-induced GI issues (use your imagination, and don't bother being kind- it's gross.)

Oh. And I woke up with my left eye all swollen shut and encrusted, I can only imagine wtf that's all about. But damn. I'm smokin' hot today y'all.

On the bright side, maybe they will take one look, assume I hired an actual Zombie to represent me, and reason that I am a Badass Bitch Who Is Not To Be Fucked With.

I am sure much merriment will be had.

Check me out, yo...

As my friends can attest to, I have a habit of wandering off midsentence, having been distracted by something shiny. I am always stumbling across cool shit, er, stuff, that catches my eye. Being broke hasn't really changed that tendency in me, it's just made it a little more...interesting.

Behold, Cheap Stuff That Doesn't Suck! A place for me (and you, if you're a budget impaired consumer-wanna-be like me!) to share our love of all things groovy and fabulous, and most importantly- affordable!

Got something cheap and cool to crow about? Leave me a comment about it!

Lost: one mojo

Every year since I was in high school, each October I have gotten a miserable sinus/ear/ throat infection that quickly moves south to toss a little bronchitis into the mix. I headed it off last year, somehow, I think maybe my body was all *Fuck you* to germs because it was already dealing with so much stress that it was afraid, (and rightly so) that I might use any excuse to just crawl under the covers and die.

This year apparently the sabbatical is over, and I am stuck with a lovely throbbing head, raw throat, fluid filled ears, and soon, a huuurrrkkkking cough that resembles a noise most commonly made by livestock.

I am going to lie around sluglike today, and make phone calls for work, and stay in my pj's. Maybe with enough ginger ale, sleep, vitamins, and Tylenol Sinus I will recover my lost mojo.

Meanwhile if you see her, please grab her and send her home!

Settling in, albeit reluctantly.

Now, I would completely agree with anyone who observed that since I have been living in the teeny rental house for oh, fourteen months now, that I probably ought to feel like it's my home by now.

But the truth is, I don't.

It's a small brick rancher, the smallest place I have ever lived in my life. It's half the size, or maybe even a third the size- of our old house. It has tiny rooms and, I swear, the smallest kitchen I have ever been burdened with- even my college APARTMENT had a kitchen twice this size. The barren yard and stained roof mean zero curb appeal. I can't afford to plant flowers, or paint, or put down nice rugs, or do anything that would make it feel like a home. I can barely afford the damn rent every month. Even heat and A/C are reserved for days I cannot possibly NOT turn them on.

I don't want to live here. I really, really don't. And neither do the kids.

But because Jackass threatened me, and harassed me, and refused to accept any boundaries; because he refused to pay support and drove his truck through through the yard to make a statement, and stalked me and would not go away; because he then chose to evict us the weekend before school started, from the house we liked that I could actually AFFORD, we don't have any choice.

I'm ashamed to say that I hope no one knows I live here when they drive by. Sometimes I don't bother to keep up with the housework, because really, dishes, or dust or dirty bathroom or whatever- it's still a crappy house, so what difference does it really make?

I don't ever invite anyone inside this place besides my parents (rarely) and VCB and his kids. Not even my brother and his wife- most of my friends have no idea where I live anymore. It's a huge embarrassment to me. There are things that would greatly impact my quality of life here- like some flowers outside, grass in the yard, a wreath for the door, and clean windows (they are full of bugs and- ick ick ick- yuccckkk!!! I cannot bring myself to touch them.) But being broke, and with cold weather looming, those are obviously, in no way financial priorities.

Yes, yes, I know- it beats being homeless, or living with my parents. It's better for the kids to have any home with me than be stuck with whatever tent or basement Jackass would provide. It beats foster care. I can still give them as stable and solid a routine, and as much love, with this roof over our heads as any other.

It's time for me to make this place into a home, and accept that we will be here for the foreseeable future. I need to start that transition internally, but I don't know how to find any joy in it; to accomplish it without a despairing resignation. This sense of limbo has become destructive and it's eroding my family's sense of unity, though, so it's time to embrace this as our reality and find some way to make it okay...for me, and for them.

Probably this hasn't happened to you. But if it did you would be freaked out too. I'm pretty sure.

Have you ever gotten a random text from someone whose number was kinda-sorta-familiar but not-familiar-enough-that-it's-programmed-into-your-phone; and you know it must be a family member because the only people you even know in that AREA CODE are family; and you saw the whole crowd less than a month ago at the funeral and since the texter clearly knows exactly who you are then yeah, family makes sense... but by that point you realize that you're too big a weenie to text them back and admit that you have no idea who the hell it is. (Bonus point for texts in the middle of the night!) So instead you text back something generic and noncommittal thinking that's the end of that; but then they text you AGAIN and it dawns on you who it might be, only you know if it's THEM, a cousin of your mother's that you really just met a month ago, they are probably dead drunk and they aren't even that close to you, so wtf are they thinking, texting you late at night anyway, but you also know that if you don't at least try to be polite then your mother will be all pissed off, because she really likes this cousin, even though she has to overlook the fact that this is the mother of the skinhead kid with the vulva tattoo; so you think about replying and saying "hey" to her, but then you get ANOTHER text and this one calls you "Our princess girl" and suddenly it dawns on you that maybe the person who texted you isn't really who you thought it was AT ALL; that uh-oh, it's a cousin of your mother's alright, but it's not the harmless drunken one, instead OMG it's probably the OTHER cousin, the one that nobody in their right mind would ever in a million years give their phone number to- because in your family there are actually levels of crazy, and this guy has a PhD in teh crrrrraaaazzzzyyy, actually- he is in fact someone who a) just got out of prison after doing 34 years for murdering a woman in front of her child (yeah I will just pause and let you digest that one for a second) annnnd.....b) is a creepy old dude who begged you to come 'party with his crew' last time you saw him (which was also the FIRST time in 34 years you had seen him and you happened to be standing in the hallway of the ICU where your Grandfather was dying but I guess proper hospital etiquette is kinda lost on a guy who only just NOW gets to eat with a fork and knife instead of just a spoon after 34 years) and c) he has already been forcibly evicted and barred permanently from his own 91 yr old mother's house for stealing from her and.... EWWWWW... OMG OMG OMG OMFG!! HOW DID HE GET MY NUMBER AND WHY DID HE CALL ME A "PRINCESS GIRL" I AM 38 FUCKING YEARS OLD??? AND PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TELL ME HE DOES NOT ALSO HAVE MY HOME ADDRESS BECAUSE IF HE DOES THEN I OBVIOUSLY HAVE TO MOVE IMMEDIATELY.

Muddling through

Grief has left me raw, and wrecked.

I am not sure at this point how much my emotional reaction is grief for my grandfather, and how much is actually grief for all the losses I have experienced in the past two years. The losses just mounted....first it was my marriage, disposable income, a functioning co-parent for my kids, then our home, our dog, my truck, all social standing, my pride, etc, etc, etc....

I realized I haven't done a great job reconciling myself to all these losses. Instead I have more or less been coasting along as though I might wake up any day now back in my old life. (Denial: no longer just a river in Egypt)

Having my 20 year high school reunion looming in my future, coupled with the grief of losing so much, has made me take a long hard look at my life- where I am, where I want to be, and what it will take to get there.

Frankly it's depressing as all hell.

I'm 38 years old, with three kids, no education, no accomplishments to speak of, and no real prospects.

I had kind of had a hope in the back of my mind that whenever I sold the house I would have a nest egg that would help me and the kids move forward with some more security. That hasn't happened, my family is tapped out, and my employment situation is really shaky. I honestly have no idea how I will pay my rent through the end of the year. Not a great place to be.

I'd like to find a way, ideally, to go back to school to at least finish my BA in English- maybe turn the writing thing into an actual gig. But that seems irresponsible, given how many starving artists are out there. So probably I should go in a more practical direction. Sigh.

But first I need to break free of this inertia, depression, and grief, and start moving forward.

Drowning

This past weekend was my grandfather's funeral.

I can't believe I just typed that sentence.

VCB moved Heaven and Earth to come to the services with me. Jackass' sister took the kids a day early so I could leave. We drove up overnight, after Dad and VCB got off work. Twelve hours. Again.

I was worried about my grandmother, who, after 62 years of marriage, has been left alone. However, I needn't have been. My grandmother (who is brain injured, and extremely self-absorbed) did not seem affected at all. It was very difficult to see her being her usual chatty and oblivious self while we were all walking around numb with grief. She has a 'helper", a patient, kind, loving angel named Pam, who took care of getting her ready and bringing her to the visitations and funeral service. Thank God. None of us could have done it without being unkind to her, even me.

Introducing VCB to my family at the funeral home felt surreal. Of all the circumstances to have had to debut the wierdness that is my extended family- doing it with my grandfather lying in his casket ten feet away was almost nauseating.

Everyone kept saying he looked good.

To me, the body in the blue casket was barely recognizable. In life, to me, he was most notable for his animation, his sparkle, his laugh. His bright blue eyes, his smile. The makeup covered still, cold form wearing a suit (a suit???) was foreign to me. Only his hands, the beloved hands that have held me and patted me and stroked me my whole life- the hands that in these last years I would take to keep HIM steady as we made our way along, the hands that reached for me and comforted me even as he lay dying- only his hands, bruised from the IV's and folded peacefully, were those of my grandfather.

I got through it, the visitation, mostly thanks to the devotion of VCB- who stayed beside me and was absolutely a rock. It was pretty horrifying having him witness some of their behavior. To my credit I managed to refrain from assaulting the people I desperately wanted to smack, who in my state of upset was pretty much everyone- (my cousin's girlfriend, who wore short shorts and sat on my cousin's lap while he groped her ass; my cousin/uncle (?) who made a pass at me (gross); my aunt who said introduced me as her "hot niece" (double gross, and really- WTF??); the skinhead with a woman's genitals tattooed on his shaved head; the idiot who wore basketball shorts; my mother's cousin who kept touching me and crying; my grandmother, who acted for all the world like it was just a pleasant family outing; the funeral director who was just an asshole.)

The funeral. The song they opened with, that we danced to at my wedding. The hearse, the 21 gun salute. The folding and presentation of the flag to my grandmother. The old man from the VFW who leaned forward and whispered. "Farewell, my comrade." The rose I took from the arrangement at the cemetery.

There were a few bright spots.

My grandfather's three surviving brothers, who reminded me so much of him, his eyes, his mannerisms, his voice- were sweet and kind and I enjoyed talking to them very much.

My mother was strong, and kind and sweet to me. My aunt, who usually makes things about herself- who just hugged me and held me up and cried with me. My cousin, who took VCB and I out for a beer. VCB, who distracted me, fed me, held me, steered me through the entire thing in my numbness and shock. He was just perfect- solid and kind and loving.

So I am home. And Real Life has resumed. The kids returned to school yesterday. I am trying to get back into the swing of things at work. I have court Friday, to get Jackass sentenced for his failure to pay support. We were supposed to go to the race this weekend but can't since we went to the funeral and now have no available childcare for VCB's kids.

I continue to disappoint VCB in every way, and to feel completely inadequate as a partner. I am not sure what the future holds for me but at this moment it all feels like too much. I am drowning in my grief and fear and hurt. I have cried every day for a month. I feel like I am coming apart at the seams.

Numb

My Grandfather passed away yesterday afternoon. My Dad came to tell me, and as soon as I saw his truck in the driveway, I knew. I literally fell to my knees, crushed with grief that was so raw, so physically painful, I couldn't breathe. I did not know that my body would HURT, that my heart could feel, quite literally, broken.

Knowing it was going to happen didn't really protect me after all.

VCB stayed by my side, appearing shortly after I got the news. Thank God I have a strong and loving hand to hold. Thank God I don't have to do this alone.

Certain other people I really *expected* to care, have been completely absent; while relative strangers (my landlord, Twitter friends, the kids' school principal) have expressed sincere and heartfelt condolences. Even Jackass and his family have been helpful and concerned. It's been interesting. I am trying to keep my expectations to a bare minimum and muddle through, appreciating the surprise blessings and good wishes, without letting my anger and disappointment about the behavior of others creep up to gnaw at my gut. VCB will hold my hand, and it will all work out the way it's supposed to.

Tomorrow we will drive the long, long drive, which will, no doubt, be made longer still by the sad duty ahead- laying him to rest.

The Good, The Bad, And The All Around Horrible

As much as I'd love to regale you with my fabulosity, and post something envy-inducing about just how incredible things are here, I'm afraid I can't.

Life's been so, so hard lately.

I am at the end of my frayed and filthy rope, in a way I haven't really been before, despite all the divorce nastiness and the poverty. I found myself standing in the grocery store today, tears running down my face, shaking, completely confused as to why I was there. Everything seems huge and overwhelming-both terribly important and yet totally meaningless and insignificant at the same time.

Because while some things have been good- (VCB and I took his kids to visit his sister last weekend and had a lot of fun; Jackass has been more decent than usual and even paid some child support; VCB has done his damndest to distract me) mostly, it's been awful.

The universe decided that it was time to slap me back to an unyielding reality, apparently. I have decided to embrace, again, the firm belief that for me, for now, hope is a total waste of time, and low expectations mean less disappointment. Exhibit A- My grandfather is well and truly dying. I have a funeral in my immediate future that will probably be one of the most unbearably painful experiences I will ever have. Exhibit B- The "maybe" very good thing I posted about, of course, fell through.

My grandfather had held his own for about ten days after I came home. He was discharged from the hospital and went to a rehab facility to gain some strength. And for a while, he did. But just as we were told would happen, the pneumonia came back with a vengeance, and he was readmitted to the hospital after less than two weeks. That's where he is now, barely clinging to life in the care of hospice workers who say he has only a few days at best.

Because Jackass had lobbied to switch the weeks of visitation, I was able to go back up to see my grandfather again. I was able to sit by his bedside for hours and hold his hand, touch him, talk to him, soothe him and advocate for his wishes with his medical team and my family. It was heartbreaking, exhausting, and stressful. I only slept for about 8 hours in 4 days, bracketed by 12 hour drives.

Now I am home, jet lagged as hell and having anxiety attacks, while I wait for the call that he's gone. It's completely surreal yet horribly true. But also, life goes on. So I have to get the kids decked out for school tomorrow, and take care of work stuff, and just catch up on LIFE. I haven't bothered to unpack yet. The mail's piled up. The house is a wreck. Being away from home for most of the month, with another trip ahead of me makes sitting on my on sofa in my PJ's tonight feel like a luxury.

It's a beautiful cool evening. I have the windows and doors open to the night sounds, and music playing. My grandparents would sit in the living room at night like this, watching CMT with the screens letting in the breeze. Grandma always had a revolver beside her, a Diet Dr. Pepper and a People magazine. She smelled like baby powder and dryer sheets. Grandpa would sit in his recliner, drinking a PBR, reading the NRA magazine, and he'd try to turn the channel to WWF wrestling when Grandma wasn't looking.

The shirt I put on for bed tonight was last washed by my Grandmother, and I wore it in the hospital my last night with my Grandfather. I pulled a chair up by his bed, laid my head on his mattress, and held his hand. It smells like them, like my memories.

Oh for fuck's sake.....

I am just exasperated today. My neck and upper back are one big knot, I'm jittery and pissy and have zero patience. In short- stay out of my way, but if you can't, I apologize in advance for my attitude.

Here are some things I am dealing with that I can't control but which have major potential to fuck up my precariously little unbalanced life:

There's *maybe* a buyer for the house on GBR. Maybe. Good news? Sure, if I can hash out all the tax and financial and legal issues. Two hours on the phone in the past two days and not much to show for it, many more hours ahead to get that straight. And THEN...Jackass will get to sue me for my trouble! Brilliant! Can't wait!

There's another, bigger, possibly much better *maybe* situation that I am anxiously awaiting word on. That one's causing much sleeplessness and inspiring many happy dreams. (Although aren't I going to feel like the idiot when it doesn't work out, because I'm all excited about it even though I told myself over and over I shouldn't be? Why yes, yes, I will. Disappointment here seems an inevitability.)

My grandfather's health. And the related never-ending family drama surrounding that situation.

My job. Lots of projects happening, many new opportunities, and I am horribly behind since I went out of town for a week.

Money and lack thereof. Child support nonpayment and upcoming court dates. Jackassery.

Jules' birthday is Thursday. To party or not to party? Nothing planned. No money. Am loser mom extraordinare.

Then there's the usual backlog of car maintenance, household chores, back to school crap, visitation scheduling-and-bailing-out-of-or-forcing-kids-to-go...

It's all too much, today.

Things I want to say to my kids but can't

7. I want you to study and be successful in life largely because I can't support you forever, and even if I could, I wouldn't.

6. In ten years NONE of this shit will matter. But clean your room anyway. Because I said so.

5. Sometimes a cold beer really can improve a crappy outlook.

4. Your father's family is CRAZY. Please, please don't grow up thinking all that redneck bullshit is okay. Have a standard for yourself that's higher than a new truck and a girlfriend with a nice rack.

3. I really don't have all the answers. I'm sorry. I wish I was a better mother and human being. I'm doing the best I can, but I know I fall short all the time.

2. I hope that you grow up to appreciate me for all this because holy shit, it's hard being a single parent. And if you can't appreciate me I hope you at least resent your father. Not really. Okay, maybe. Sort of.

1. If your dad was paying his child support you would have a better life. I am sick and tired of absorbing your unhappiness about the situation all by myself. I know I tell you that what we have doesn't matter, but the truth is I am really unhappy about being poor too.

There's so much to say that I don't even know where to start.

I'm home.

My grandfather (on the left, with my brother) is still alive, but he has refused the invasive medical interventions that would give him more time with us. He told me he is ready to go; that his quality of life is nonexistent, and that he has had a good life. He looked at me and held my hand and we both cried. He quietly, and with much dignity, asked me to help him make the rest of the family understand his decision.

It may be my last opportunity to give him anything of value. It was also the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

Saying goodbye to him was brutally difficult, knowing I may not get back up there in time to see him again.

There's so much swirling through my head, not knowing if I did enough, not knowing if he really knows how much I will always love him, hoping he is not suffering, hoping he is not alone, not afraid. So many memories, very few regrets.

Ultimately when I think of my grandfather what I know is this.

I was the luckiest little girl who ever lived, because this young man grew up to be my grandfather.

You CAN go home again.

I got the scariest phone call last Thursday...the one you know you have in your future about an older person that you dearly love, but that you hope and pray won't come today...or any day, ever.

"He is failing. It's bad. You need to come home."

So I did what you do, what you have to do, what you can't NOT do. I got in the car, and I drove. Home.

Home, where I haven't lived for 36 years, but where my entire extended family lives, where I have come any time I get the chance, at least two or three times a year, all my life, until my divorce. It's been two years since I have been back here, an eternity. Almost two years since I have even had the nerve to call- since talking means telling, and telling my family the details of my situation was not only impossible, but cruel. They begged to hear from me, they sent letters and money and called and left messages. But I couldn't respond. I couldn't not tell them, I couldn't not cry when I heard their voices. I didn't trust myself to hold it in, to not worry them.

It hurt me terribly, not talking to them. I didn't know if they'd forgive me, if they'd still welcome me and love me the same way; I didn't know if I'd even get the chance to try. It was a burden so heavy I couldn't talk about it, a pain so deep it rendered me mute. The fear and shame and regret of not talking to them became an obstacle I couldn't see a way around. I didn't know if I'd even get a chance to make it right.

But I underestimated them, I'm ashamed to say. They are thrilled to have me here, it's no different than it's ever been. The usual rib crushing hugs, and shouting, and calling every relative in twenty miles to announce my arrival, and they keep trying to feed me and begging for pictures of the kids. I am Home.

And yet. Someone's missing. I'm posting from a hospital waiting room, while they perform yet more tests.

My Grandfather is 84. He has numerous medical problems, and his body is weakening, fading. This time it's a staph infection, shingles, and pneumonia. He is in the ICU, in pain. There is no permanent solution, nothing to fix the underlying problems. There is only management and pain relief, and temporary measures to keep him going a little longer.

He still smiled at me when I walked into his hospital room at the end of my 12 hour drive, and he called me his favorite Granddaughter. He will probably survive this round, after all. He keeps saying "Thank you". Thank you, for coming. Thank you for being here.

How could I not?

This trip was as much for me as for him. I am so relieved to have had this chance to sit with him, to hold his hand and hear him brag to the nurses that he taught me to shoot when I was so little I could barely hold the gun. I am so grateful for this second chance, to have been able to come and listen to the old stories and drink "diet pop" with my grandma, and drive through the town where my parents met; where I hear "It's Dena's daughter! You're HOME!!" in the grocery store.

They all want to know about my life, they ask when they can meet VCB, they exclaim over my new haircolor and thank me for coming, and hug on me. They whip out pictures of their kids and share stories about my Mom. It's the same as ever, and even though I feel so completely different, maybe I'm not. Maybe I am still me.

It feels a lot like redemption, however undeserved.

That phone call, THE phone call, is still somewhere in my future. Where I will be so much more prepared to deal with it, after this visit. This is a gift I never expected to receive, one I will be forever grateful to have been given.

The kids are with Jackass this week, albeit unhappily. It wasn't 24 hours before they started emailing and texting me to come home.

I declined.

This was tough. Because the kids are merely bored, and because Jackass wanted them next weekend (his birthday) it wasn't hard to figure out that sending them home was just his way of using me as his childcare. Since he has to work this week, he has dumped them, per usual, at his parents' house. However, I ALSO have to work this week and I have no available childcare. But the kids are pissed and I am anxious about them. Not sure what to do with that except ride it out.

In other news, work is going well right now. I am continually anxious and freaked out about my performance, but occasionally something happens that makes me realize, hey! I am really pretty good at this! Which is a great feeling after basically being a professional volunteer and stay at home mom for the past 13 years. I have learned a tremendous amount doing marketing & PR work for this company, and writing it's blog. I have even been asked to teach an intensive class on interviewing at a local center that helps people find work (although the budget has not yet been approved for that, so I'm still waiting to find out if it will actually happen...fingers crossed!!)

Poor VCB is sick, he has the crud I usually seem to get in the spring and fall- the crap that starts with a sore throat / sinus mess and then moves south to the chesty cough, headache and body aches. In my case it's also accompanied by a nasty attitude and zero energy. So far VCB is sweet as ever although the poor boy has no voice. I hope it passes because he feels terrible and, hell, this was gonna be our week together and illness is unwelcome indeed.

It was a great weekend.

Friday, I spent a great deal of the day getting ready for (cleaning and shopping and setting up) a birthday party for VCB's daughter. (He still has both a Very Large, and a Medium Goat in his backyard, among other things, so my house became a better venue.) The party was fun, his family came and we had pizza, cake, and a silly string fight. There was a classic AFV moment when his younger daughter whacked her sister with the pinata stick, and we all watched it happen in slo-mo disbelief. Overall much merriment was had by all.

Saturday morning VCB and his Very Cute Girls came over for breakfast. There was a bacon cremation accident -the aroma of which will linger in my house forever, as it has proven impervious to all attempts at eradication- but otherwise all was good. (Five kids and two adults in a 1000 sq foot house is a lot of people, just in case you were wondering.)

The remainder of Saturday afternoon was spent in pursuit of Super Soakers for an epic water battle at VCB's sister's house with his entire family. Did you know that Super Soakers are not only expensive, they are really hard to find in August? I didn't. Until we took 5 kids to WalMart. And ToysRUs. On a Saturday. Which was, um, interesting. (Let's just say I really needed that awesome Daquiri that VCB's brother in law whipped up for me!)

The water battle was just hilarious, picture 15 adults and ten or so kids running around dousing each other with water guns, hoses and buckets, shrieking and laughing. It was really, really fun. Austin tossed a bucket of water over VCB's brother in law from the top of the playhouse, and kept us all entertained by going down the slide at 50mph and skidding across the yard. The kids had a blast too. In fact Julia's sleepy little voice at midnight piped up, "Today was FUN, Mom." Awww...gotta love it.

I have to say, VCB's family is one of my favorite things about him. It sure is easier when you LOVE the in-laws, and they love you back. One thing I know from experience-it's every bit as important to audition any potential inlaws as it is a potential partner. A bad set can wreck a good relationship and a good set can go a long ways towards keeping a shaky relationship on solid ground.

Sunday VCB and I helped his family move some furniture and took the kids out for dinner before Jackass picked mine up for the week. We exchanged a series of (knock wood) decent emails before the visitation so let's hope and pray this goes well.

My house, it is too quiet. Tomblike after the hustle and bustle of a busy weekend full of laughter and activity. I miss my babies already.

Visitation Manipulation

As you have probably guessed, Jackass is attempting to bail on taking the kids next week. He is waffling about whether he can pick them up and when.

This is pissing me off.

Can I just be honest? I am sooo torn in two over this.

I really want and need both a break from the grind of motherhood, and some quality time with my Very Cute Boy. Also, I am not Jackass' child care provider during his time, and I am fucking livid that he keeps using the visitation schedule as his last remaining weapon. I love my kids desperately and I will miss them five minutes after they are gone, and I will obsess about them all week...but.....VCB will do a great job distracting me, and I will get lots of stuff done, and, I have some stuff scheduled that I need to do for work, and, well...I DESERVE IT, goddamnit!!

But.

My kids do NOT want to go. Jackass does NOT do a good job with the kids. They are dreading it. I really would LOVE to be able to go to court in September and tell the Judge that "Yeah, not only did he not pay his support as ordered, he ditched the kids during the weeks I offered him, and plenty of other times too." My Attorney has said we stand a great chance at getting his visitation cut wayyy back in September.

Right now my options seem to be:

1. Tell him to fuck off and deal with having the kids all week (ugh)

2. Drive the kids to his parent's house Sunday night (sets a precedent I'd rather not establish, but since Grandparents have no rights in this state, it likely won't hurt me later, according to my Attorney)

3. Keep the kids until Monday night and hope he takes them then (which I doubt, so this probably actually equals option 1)

Sigh.

Weekend update. Now with more money. And welding.

Jackass ponied up some child support last week. Late and short, but still- money! I guess the authorities in charge of such things finally filled him in on their plans to suspend his driver's license. (I helpfully provided a couple addresses where they could serve him. Including his boss' house. heh.) It would be nice if that continued, but I am not holding my breath.

He also decided, in what can only be described as a moment of complete and total, yet typical, mental fucktardation, that calling our ten year old daughter 'Sasquatch Legs' and telling her it was time to shave, was an appropriate parenting move. The kids were about as thrilled about that as you might expect....which is to say, there was some significant negative ecstasy. I found out after the fact that he and our son had had a heated email exchange about the incident (Jackass' defense of his remark was that our son had made a biting comment also...@#$%?! The kid is 13. I mean, hellooo??). Then he served as a taxi and dumped the kids on his folks for his visitation so he could go party unencumbered, and told them about how he would be "drinking all day" so they weren't welcome. He tried to dump them on ME at the last minute, but as I am not his childcare provider, I declined.

And can I just say, I am SO glad I did? VCB and I had a fabulous and much needed weekend that I shall decline to describe further but which shall long be remembered. It included a classic discussion of sex being the glue that bonds relationships together and a thorough classification of the types of this interpersonal adhesive, from Post It Notes, (silent quickies) to Scotch Tape, (routine) to Super Glue, (use your imagination) to Arc Welding (umm....no comment.)

Upon the kids' return home it was revealed to me that Mrs. Jackass Sr, my former mother in law, has prominently bookmarked both my Facebook page and my old Twitter Account on her computer's desktop. Jackass had also made reference to my "blathering all over the internet" in an email last week. So it's entirely possible that I have some silent fans reading this blog as well. I can't deny that I find that simultaneously funny, disturbing, and sad. But since everything I post is TRUE, all I have to say to the entire Jackass family is- SUCK IT. If you don't like what I am writing, treat the kids better, pay your child support, and be decent human beings.

Other than that it's been a pretty good week. VCB and I took the kids out to dinner last night and I have been working, working, working. I have an opportunity on the horizon that I am excited about (but can't really talk about yet.) There are good things ahead.

Ten Things

Ten Things I Love about Being Divorced

10. I don't have to deal with all the bullshit that becomes an emergency once someone else fails to deal with it for six months, with said 'someone else' breathing down my neck to take care of it NOW!

9. I can do whatever I want in my house and no one gets pissy

8. I don't have to tolerate the goddamn TV on 24/7 (This one should probably rate higher. I don't like TV in general and rarely turn it on at all after the morning news.)

7. I only have my own mess to clean up

6. My Restraining Order

5. It's my party and I'll blog if I want to

4. NO INLAWS!

3. Every other weekend. (This one is a love/hate.)

2. No more violence and fear

1. I am finally loved.

Standing on the edge.

VCB is still Very Cute, and he is still putting up with me and trying to help me sort all my BS out. He is being very patient, but I'd be lying if I didn't say it's kind of scary and threatening to be having major self-realizations when it simultaneously dawns on you that yo, your partner not only knows this and sees this about you, he has seen it for months. The things I think I hide, he sees. Before I am ready to deal with them. As my brother famously put it, "He has her number."

Yes, he does. Damnit.

My wall doesn't work with him. He sees right through it. And so that means I have to figure out how to be real, to let him in, to be authentic and deal with all the shit I'd just as soon ignore. It scares the hell out of me. I don't know if I can do that, if it's a risk I am strong enough to take. I am starting to see that I have been pushing him back and trying to keep him at arm's length all this time. I have a choice to make and I am scared to death.

Do I jump and trust him to catch me? 

I am all angsty and miserable today.  The stars have aligned perfectly today to illuminate a couple of highly unflattering truths about Who I Am...that I'd just as soon have remained in denial about, Thankyouverymuch. It's all, I am sure, part of the process of Moving On...but it's painful and messy just the same.

My friend "Eliza" is dealing with a nasty divorce from a crazy ex too. And a lot of the time we commiserate about the usual bullshit- money, kids' feelings, visitation manipulation, emotional upheavals, and day to day practical realities of life as single moms. I'd have said we were a dead even tie for winner of the Ugly Divorce Award; up til recently.

She had a breakthrough encounter with her 'Ex of Doom' last night and it looks (fingers crossed!!!!) like maybe things are going to get better for their relationship. Like *maybe* they will be able to find some mature, decently cooperative way to co-parent their kids and figure out a reasonably amicable settlement agreement. Hallelujah, and please duck the flying pigs.

I couldn't be happier or more hopeful that things will turn out that way for her, him, and their three gorgeous (and I do mean gorgeous- whatever else those two may have done, their babies are spectacular) kids. 

The fact that this- cooperation, mutual respect, and maturity- is highly unlikely ever to be part of the co-parenting relationship I have with Jackass (whose driver's license has now been suspended for failure to pay any child support, and who continues to fuck with the kids at every possible opportunity) is really hurting me lately. I see what the continued animosity is doing to them. They are stressed out, overloaded, angry. And I can't do anything to fix it for them; except love them and keep things as 'normal' as possible. But what now passes for normal here includes restraining orders, police, poverty, and public assistance. This shouldn't be anyone's 'normal'.

I have been telling myself I can't control Jackass, that this is what it is and I will just deal with things the best I can. The truth is I am scared he will try to screw me even more, and he is probably scared I will screw HIM even more, and we are both just reacting out of fear. But I can never trust him, EVER, so I am at a profound loss as to how to forge a different kind of relationship with him.

And then, there's my situation with VCB. VCB is an amazing man. He is smart, kind, decent, generous, beautiful, respectful, honest. I know he loves me. He has put up with so much, given so much, and been incredibly patient. He's not perfect, but he would never hurt me knowingly. And in return? Six months ago I did something colossally damaging, hurtful, unnecessary, and immature, because I am stubborn and stupid and damaged.

It might not have been AS hurtful to anyone else but I am starting to see that's not really the point. (I am a tad slow on the uptake.) I knew it would hurt HIM, and I made a series of poor decisions and did it anyway. 

He wants to work past it, has been trying to figure it all out with me. I have not been terribly patient with him. I have been feeling quite self-righteous about things and making lots of excuses in my head, rationalizing all the reasons I am right and he is unreasonable in his expectations. He says I push his buttons on purpose, to test him, and I am starting to see that maybe he is right. Maybe on some level I do keep pushing him away to see if he will always come back. 

What I know for sure is that what he feels now, is very similar, if not identical, to the way I felt for 20 years, living with someone too selfish to prioritize my feelings, too immature to protect me, too shallow and shortsighted to care beyond taking the cheap shot, the easy 'win'. I recognized this morning that now I am that person, whose cavalier attitude, selfishness and immaturity has damaged someone precious to me. I don't quite know what to do with that. I don't know how to make it right, I don't know if he should trust me. I don't know if *I* trust me. I don't want to lose him, but more than that, I don't want to do to anyone, ever, what was done to me. I don't want to be this person who hurts their partner and calls it the partner's fault. 

There are so many changes I need to make to get where I want to be. 

Foodgasm

This is what's for dinner tonight.  I fully intend to stuff myself until it hurts to breathe.

Seafood chowder

melt in stockpot over med. high heat:

3T olive oil

4T butter

Chop (I pulverize the onion, celery & pepper to mush in my food processor but to each their own) and drop in:

1 med onion

1 red bell pepper, roasted or not

3 ribs celery and their leaves

2 Lg potatooes, scrubbed and peeled

saute veggies until soft, then add:

1/2c flour

stir well, then add:

3/4 c white wine or sherry

2T Old Bay seasoning

salt & pepper

stir well, let bubble. Then add:

3 to 4c. chicken or seafood stock

then dump in:

1 lb chopped boneless, skinless white fish ( whatever's on sale, I add mine frozen but chopped)

1lb chopped peeled raw shrimp (if you want to use cooked shrimp, add it last)

however much crabmeat or imitation crab you'd like or can afford

stir until fish and shrimp are cooked, then add:

3 to 4c. half and half

Using more liquid stretches this a bit further, but you may want to adjust the seasonings. I used more liquid because I like sopping it up with crusty bread.

Bring to a bubble, then reduce heat and try not to scald yourself by eating it too fast.

OMG.  Break out the stretchy pants. 

Mystery Poo

Once upon a time I was a meticulous housekeeper. 

It's true. Sad and ridiculous but yeah. True. I walked around with a sponge in my hand wiping down walls all day and I disinfected my bathrooms twice a week and there was no herd of dustbunnies under any bed or piece of furniture because a) I refused to have indoor pets because of the mess, and b) I actually moved my furniture around regularly and cleaned under it.

If you have been in my house lately you can be sure that I cleaned pretty thoroughly before you were allowed in, even though it still looks pretty ragged, er, lived in, here. Stuff piles up, piles get pushed aside, new piles take their place, and the oldest piles are eventually moved to the garage.

(Martha Stewart does NOT approve of my new system, but hell, that bitch doesn't live here.)

So a couple weeks ago, in a mad fit of competency, I sorted through a metric assload of outgrown kids' clothes and bagged them up, intending to consign or yardsale them. (hahahaha!!! Yeah right.)

Instead they got moved onto my sunporch because I tripped over one of the bags, got pissed, and that was the closest open door to toss them through.

Today Autumn wanted to earn some money so I asked her to (drumroll please) move the bags of clothes on the sunporch to the garage. She called me out shortly thereafter and asked me what had been pooping in the sunporch. and sure enough- poo. Mysterious animal poo.

It's official. I am the worst housekeeper ever. Something shits in my sunporch and do I even notice? No, I do not. I simply pile clothes on top of the poo and keep on rolling. 

Fabulous. 

Blah Blah Blah

Yesterday did not end significantly better than it started. 

Shoe shopping for Austin went like this:

Promise girls trip to pool after shoe procurement.

5 stores in 4 hours, pool closes in meantime, much whining and overall displeasurement from crowd. No acceptable shoes having been located, deep resigned sigh, go back to first store, buy shoes, wear shoes fifteen steps out of store, decide shoes don't really fit, return shoes, find that the size JUMBO shoes are unavailable except online, go home shoeless with all three kids mad at me and proceed to beat head against wall in utter frustration. 

THEN.

There was more unbloggability with someone who asked not to be featured here. I ended up needing a Xanax and two Tylenol PMs to get to sleep. I'm not gonna lie- I enjoyed the resulting coma quite a bit more than my usual toss-turn-toss-pee-check Twitter-curse-toss-turn-repeat routine. Fortunately (or unfortunately) my liver works just fine so it was only temporary in nature.

In any case I packed the kids up and took them over to the 'pool' up the road before lunch. Can I just say this place is the trailer park version of a water park? I am not so much the snob, peoples. I am on food stamps for crying out loud. I should not be judging anyone. But... this place really attracts some gems. I saw a tattoo that said "Just DO me" today. And a kid no older than 6 yelling for his mom (who was on her cell phone totally ignoring them) to come watch his (toddler) younger sibling for a minute so he could go play. An obese woman with a belly so droopy it totally obscured the fact that she was even wearing the bottom half of her STRING BIKINI (although the top half was tied somewhere around her navel so maybe she was confused.)  And a bald middle aged man with a couple of kids who had a unicorn tattooed on his shoulder. Did you read that last bit? A. UNICORN. ON. HIS. SHOULDER. 

Dude. Wow. Were you HIGH?? Going through your "Gay" phase?? (My friend Eliza astutely pointed out "maybe he used to be a woman?!" to which I replied, "if they took off the boobies and girly bits, surely the tattoo couldn't have been that hard to get rid of, right?") WTF?! A Unicorn?? Don't tattoo artists ever say. "Uh, Are you SURE about this, seriously???"

Being less cynical and judgemental, or perhaps merely less observant, than I, the kids grew bored with the pool fast. Like, they whined longer to go to the pool than they actually played. (Note to self: next time take booze. and a camera.) 

So. Plan B. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince opened this week, and we are geeks for Harry. Some background-I read HP with my oldest as the books came out. We went to the release parties and were totally psyched about each new installment. I tortured Austin by insisting that I read them first, and I would sit there reading and gasping and laughing or crying and he would be all "WHAT?!" and "NO FAIR!" and "ARGH hurry up already Mom!!" (to be fair I usually took less than 24 hours at most, he didn't have to wait that long...heh.) I read them again with Autumn, and Jules is going to get her set of HP books this year. So anyway we were excited about the movie, and it was a huge treat. I was all melancholy wishing VCB was there but then came the moment....and I am kinda glad he didn't witness my shame. Because even though I KNEW Dumbledore was going to die, you know what? When Snape let loose with the "Avada Kevedra!" I couldn't help it. I cried anyway. You can just mail me my Dork Award. 

I suck.

It's been one of those weeks where every day is mildly crappy in some low key way, with migraines and garbage and bills and insomnia; with kids running amok, and spilling things and whining and needing things every five minutes; with my job teetering on the brink of collapse, my house falling down around my ears; piles of too much to do and not enough time or resources to do any of it; where everyone's been pissed at me for one reason or another and I am somewhat able to see their points but mostly I just want to tell everyone to FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE.

But of course I can't do that. So I am sucking it up and trying not to lose my tenuous grip on sanity. Which requires quite a lot of caffeine, and alcohol, and outright denial, to tell you the truth.

Last night I had to work this event hosted by a local TV station for unemployed people. There was a bar and a lot of socializing and I stood by our table with my coffee, feeling like a fish out of water. Several times I struck up conversations with people who stopped by the table and my boss would subtly edge his way into the conversation and then suddenly I was standing on the outside of the situation looking- literally- at the back of my boss' suit coat. I haven't felt so awkwardly excluded since I accidentally sat at the cheerleaders table my first day of high school. So yeah. That was fun.

Today I was going to take the kids to the pool and go shoe shopping for my son. I had a conference call with a publisher and a couple other "plans". But then the weather reported a severe thunderstorm warning, and an unbloggable difference of opinion arose between me and someone I agreed not to blog about and now I am all gut-wrenched and unmotivated and pissed off and sad and worthless. It's too early to start drinking and I am out of chocolate. 

What I know I need to do is go out and get on my treadmill. What I will probably do instead is barricade myself in my room and wallow. 

Here I am

So, moved to Blogger. Because it's free, that's why. And you can't beat free when you're a flat broke struggling single mom.

I C&P'd most of the relevant stuff from last year over from my TypePad blog, but I decided to change my blog title. During the divorce it was "Weathering the Storm". I am happy to report that aside from the occasional gust, the storm that was my life last year has largely blown over. 

I chose "Still Above the Grass" because that's what my Grandpa, the sweetest man in the world and in my eyes the only man since JC to walk on water, says when anyone asks him how he's doing. When he says it I always smile. Because there's plenty to be said for being above the grass. 

Its been a pretty good summer here so far. The kids are in camp thru the County M-Th, and I am working from home, writing, doing social media and PR/marketing work. I may soon be doing seminars and speaking engagements at colleges for Interview Angel, and there's talk of travel also. If I am fortunate I will find a way to make that happen as God knows, we need the money.

 Jackass took his first week's visitation with the kids as scheduled and (gasp!) his mother (formerly known as Mrs. Jackass Sr., but I'm gonna drop the snark on her for now) and I had a decent conversation about the kids and the visitation arrangements. I am hoping that dynamic will continue and that there will be someone reasonable for me to talk to w/regards to those issues in the future. He has pulled a lower than average level of the usual jackassery but I am still nonplussed. The kids spent last weekend with him and Drunky Girlfriend at her "awesome" house. Drunky Girlfriend's "hot" 12yr daughter is Austin's new crush (this is obviously ten kinds of wrong as well as a recipe for future therapy).  Drunky Girlfriends "huge boobs" are still fascinating, and the general consensus is she's a nice lady who knows nothing about their Dad's real self/situation. Also, Jackass has been talking about moving away (to the OBX of NC- beware, ladies!!) at the end of his lease in August. Which coincides nicely with the next hearing on the child support case Sept. 11. 

"What about that Child Support?" you may ask.

Despite facing a contempt conviction and the imminent suspension of his driving privileges, there has been no voluntary payment by jackass since last November. I got a small amount of $ out of his unemployment checks earlier this year, but that totaled less than one month's payment. Jackass was told in no uncertain terms to pay on the 1st and 15th of each month until the Sept. court date for sentencing, so the fact that he has failed to do so is troubling. It would appear he has no problem losing his license and going to jail rather than supporting his children. What does one say about that?

The house on GBR is not yet sold. There is much to be done to prevent it being snatched by the mortgage company. I admit I am playing ostrich and not dealing w/ that very well. I suck.

But anyway. We are doing okay in general and I have to say I am actually pretty fucking happy to be done with all of it. And if he goes to jail you're ALL invited to come blow bubbles as they cuff his sorry ass and perp-walk him towards his new home. 

And now I must get some shit done. Later!

 

June 17, 2009

In which I discover that maybe Justice isn't really blind after all.

Jackass' appeal of the Judge's child support award was heard last Friday. I had absolutely no emotional investment in the situation, probably because, well, what was the worst that could happen? The NOT PAYING had already been happening for six months, and arrearages were in excess of 5k. I figured the Judge would just hand Jackass a greatly reduced child support figure to see if he'd pay THAT or maybe tell me to pay Jackass, or, I dunno, ask Jackass to meet for a beer later. Because, well, that's just how it had been going. The whole thing felt like a monumental waste of time.

So I wasn't really prepared for what happened.

Jackass had the same court appointed attorney as before. (I am tickled to report that the guy's nickname is "Fast Eddie"...and no- I am totally NOT MAKING THAT UP!!) This is because the non-payment of child support is actually a crime, making it a criminal case that he had failed to pay child support for six months.

Jackass had apparently run our respective incomes through the state's child support guidelines and determined that his obligation should be approximately $357/ mo. For three kids. This is less than half of what he had been ordered to pay. (But I should point out it still would have been $357 more than I had been getting!) Jackass presented his figures to the judge, asked that his arrearages be reduced accordingly, and sat back smugly. Neither Jackass nor his attorney offered an explanation as to why he hasn't paid anything. His attorney, handily, did volunteer that he had been held in contempt in Circuit Court the week before.

The Judge was Not Amused.

Jackass was found guilty of contempt of court, and ordered to pay me $715/ mo. The Judge deviated from the guidelines (!!) because he though it was ridiculous that an able bodied male with 20 years' experience is working for minimum wage. 

Sentencing will be 9/11. If he fails to pay me in a timely fashion he will be going to jail. And even if he does pay, I am totally asking for a judgement in the amount of the arrearages and my attorney's fees, and taking his stupid motorcycle I mean midlifecrisiscycle.

In other news I had a series of negotiations with Mrs. Jackass Sr. (who may deserve a new nickname soon if she continues to be reasonable) about visitation and the kids are actually up there this week for visitation.

VCB and I have had a lot of private time. It's been lovely, but I miss my babies a lot. I can't wait til they come home to me.