So I got denied for public aid, which is good and bad both, good because at least someone thinks I’m not destitute enough to need it, but bad because there is a serious lack of funds coming in at the moment. On the upside I got a job interview at an awesome school I would love to work at as a part-time aid. It would only be about three hours a day, but I figure that will be a nice way to work myself back into things slowly, and maybe next year I could get a full-time gig.
But now for the part most of you who have already heard have been waiting for: Today is my youngest’s birthday. September 2nd. Call it karma, fate, Kismet, whatever you believe in, but this is one step closer to crazy than I thought things could go.
I knew this day was coming, and really, I’m FINE with it. Seriously. You have no idea how fine I am ;-). However, in a totally ironic turn of events, the girls’ father’s new wife is being induced. Today. On Ella’s birthday. If you understand the entirety of my story from this last year, you understand how insane this actually is. It’s like God’s little joke, AND I THINK IT’S AWESOMELY SICK AND TWISTED ON AN EPIC LEVEL! I LOVE IT! All day long I have been giggling randomly, because honestly, there couldn’t have been a more fitting time for this to happen. The funniest part? It’s not even their fault!!! At least I hope it’s not, I’m pretty sure not, but just in case I’m not gonna bet on it. Awkwardly enough she has the same OBGYN that delivered both of my children. One of them four years ago to THIS VERY DAY…
The irony is so great that I have to laugh. I can’t imagine what is going through the heads of those players involved in these events today. I would just once like to experience it first hand, to have someone explain to me how they rationalize this entire situation to be O.K. But, in the grand scheme of things, as long as my kids are ok, I just don’t care….
By the way, I hear it’s nice this time of year in backwards land…
Yes, I’m back. This is my 10th post and I have over 300 hits on my blog to date. Thank you for all of you who return to read my mundane ramblings that probably don’t make sense half of the time. My mom told me tonight: she talks to blow off steam, while I write.
It’s entirely too late and I should be in bed, but generally I wait until the girls are in bed to log on to my online classes to get the most out of them that I can. Have I mentioned I went back to school? It’s just on-line and I’m majoring in Web Graphic Design, which will possibly be another dead end profession (as I’ve had many people tell me so far, but I haven’t listened to anyone up to this point, so why start now?) but it is something I’m interested in, so what the hell?
It was another rough day with my children after Lainey got home from school. We had a MAJOR melt-down (which I recorded 😉 ) about, you guessed it, Moshi Monsters. Needless to say, Moshi Monsters are hereby banned during the week at our house. Did you know I am the meanest mom ever and I don’t love my kids? Lainey said she hates me and will never hug or kiss me again, but ha, I got a kiss goodnight, so she must be rethinking that bold statement. At one point she was trying to negotiate saying she had “a deal” to make with me, but I told her I don’t make deals with terrorists. I discussed this matter with her father, who has given me full backing in this fight against homeland terrorism. Seeing as how she explained that he and her step-mom always played with them and let them do whatever, I thought it may be a good idea to put some feelers out to how things were playing out at their house. Seems the same domestic terrorism hits their homeland as well. You never can be too sure about dads, you gotta love ’em, but they tend to be a bit softer that a mom. However, it’s always interesting to watch Lainey as she talks to her dad, because she comes to the realization that even though we aren’t together anymore we are “together” on all things involving her and her sister.
My dad was telling me tonight that he was impressed at how patient I am with them. Not always, and I find that statement a bit surprising seeing as how that was probably the deciding factor in the loss of my job last year. It has taken me a long time to get to this point of being able to let all of the mean and hateful things said by people roll off my back. Many times, people don’t even have any idea about how their words affect a person. Yet, I have learned that when I look back at how I behaved during the early days of my divorce, I often said mean and hateful things too. Things I never in a million years meant or believed, but I said them out of grief, anguish, and exhaustion. I was like a child throwing a temper tantrum to the world. At the same time I was ashamed, humiliated, and embarassed at my behavior and what was happening in my life.
It is still a long process we are going through, with a lot of healing and finding a new beat to flow with. But through all of this I know there is one lesson I have been studying and will continue to study: patience. My biggest prayer as I go to bed tonight is that this lesson is a bit more easily learned for my children that it has been for me. It seems to me I’m always waiting, but I know without a doubt there is something up around the next bend. I pray that their “something” is a thousand times kinder and better than mine, but I am sure that is every parent’s wish.
In the words of a great song, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need”. (I could have gone with Axel Rose’s Patience, but that was always the song Lainey’s dad sang to her when she was a baby… and I’m not removed enough yet to remember those times as fondly as I otherwise would 🙂 )
I’ve explained how my daughter has chronic anxiety, so naturally you can assume that bedtime in our house is a nightmare. I have taken to letting my youngest fall asleep alone in my bed, because without fail, each night, Lainey and I end up having a blow out around 10 o’clock. It never fails, I’ve tried everything – to no avail. The doctor suggested having every possible request taken care of before she even goes to bed. This is our “routine”:
Before bed they are allowed to watch TV or play, they get hot chocolate, then to bed, read a book, drink of water, go to the bathroom, change of PJs because we are either too hot or too cold, fan in the room to cool her down, brown bear, blankets up, blankets down, and a lot of other stuff in between.
Last night was no different, probably because it had been an anxiously charged day. As I sat at my computer waiting for a moment I could log on and post a discussion on my online business course (because I can’t log on when she is still awake due to the never ending requests and my account logging me off because I haven’t done anything for a while) I thought of this book, Go the Fuck to Sleep by Adam Mansbach. There is an audio version on YouTube read by Samuel L. Jackson which is awesome, because he is totally the person I could imagine reading this book.
If you are easily offended, please refrain from listening, but if you are a parent that struggles with bedtime, seriously, listen to it! You will be laughing and crying at the same time because there is finally something or someone that agrees with you that you are not alone, nor are you crazy…
So today I went to my best friend’s son’s first JFL football game. It was awesome. I do love a good football game, and I was amazed, after my brief encounter with my oldest daughter’s stint in soccer, how well the kids actually paid attention and did what was supposed to be done in an organized sport.
Anyway, we were sitting there watching the game and discussing which kids should play which positions. Now, mind you, neither one of us are fit and trim, nor do we have any background in football, but we both agreed the heavier kids should definitely be playing defense and NOT quarterback. I’m pretty sure in some countries that’s considered child abuse.
The poor child that was quarter back for the team was definitely a candidate for defense. The first hike he tried to run, but petered out about ten steps into it. The next hike he threw a nice pass, but the other kid dropped it. I could hear his inner monologue the entire time:
“Damn coaches making me be quarterback. God, I’m so out of breath. Why won’t they put me back on the sidelines? I ain’t running down that field again….hell, I’ll just pass it this time.”
What I don’t get is why the coaches couldn’t see what two, football illiterate, mothers could. Really, are you just cruel? I’m going to research which countries would require I call DCFS…
So nothing interesting really happened today, yesterday however, while I was driving home from taking my youngest to her babysitters, I broke into a fit of hysterics thinking back to our vacation a few weeks ago. It was nothing big really, we went to visit my brother and sister-in-law and their girls near Chicago. However, there were several amusing events that occured while there.
One day while there, my sister-in-law and I thought it would be neat to take the girls to the local museum. There was an exhibit about the history of Lake County which was in a mini theatre type room. There were roller coaster seats set up in front of three 32 inch panoramic TVs. We sit down to “enjoy” the movie, when the lights go out and the movie starts with a view from the front of a roller coaster. My fear ridden children promptly began to freak out, all the while my two nieces are looking on with a look of horror and confusion. The movie begins “taking us back” to prehistoric times and my youngest starts screaming, “I want to go back to our time!” while my oldest is saying, “I want outta here!”. My SIN and I are laughing our asses off, (parent of the year, I know). Then she pushes up the roller coaster bar and starts to get out of her seat and one of my nieces yells, “No! You can’t get out! Sit down!” which causes us to laugh even harder. Because, really, what’s going to happen? She’ll fall off the roller coaster? WE AREN’T EVEN ON A ROLLER COSTER!!!!
Needless to say, they booked out of there faster that a virgin on prom night. There was also a postcard exhibit, decorated oddly enough with a gigantic Paul Bunyon and Blue, which my youngest apparently is deathly afraid of. She would, under no cirumstances, allow us to go into that exhibit.
Hmmm, well I guess Six Flags is out of the question…