Yes, that was my husband's Christmas gift to me - making my mother bawl like a baby. In a good way, though, really, I promise.
You see, back when I was just a wee tyke, me mother began collecting Hallmark ornaments for me every year. She chose one series in particular, the longest running ornament series for Hallmark. She had every one except for the first one. Every year, it was my job to put my ornaments on the tree, and every Christmas Eve, I got the new one for the year. One of the very very few happy memories of my childhood.
When I grew up and moved out on my own, I moved a LOT those first few years. In one move, I made the mistake of trusting someone I shouldn't have, and suddenly, 75% of my belongings came up missing. Wanna take a guess at what one of the casualties was? So a few months ago, as my husband was cruising Craigslist for outdoor Christmas decorations, he comes across an ad from some guy who has the entire series, including the first one and several special editions. And so, taking the money he had been saving for a new snowmachine, my husband, the man I love with all my heart (most days anyway), he got me the set, wrapped each ornament (in their original, mint condition boxes, by the way), and put them under the tree after I went to bed on Christmas Eve. And when I called my mom to tell her what he had done, I think she cried harder than I did. It takes a lot to impress my mom, so more than buying me my memories back, he also bought me peace from my mother for several months at least. A better gift, I don't think I could ever ask for.
Merry Christmas, and happy New Year everyone.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Save As Draft
Oh lordy, I had no idea I had so many posts waiting in limbo. Oops. Let me see what I can do about that.... Hmm, in reading some of those posts, I'm not really sure I can finish them at this point, because I'm not really sure where I was going with them, but they are interesting, so here we go:
From July 23, 2008:
No, seriously, GO AWAY already. Ok, let me tell you people something you may not know about me. I live in Alaska, but I hate the cold. I grew up here, and I moved back home, deliberately, but I still hate the cold. I love winter time, I love watching the snow fall, I love looking at the trees all covered in frost, I love snowmachining, I love watching the kids play in the snow, hell, I even love clearing the driveway, as long as I get to use the snowblower to do it. And in all honesty, I am cold here less often than I was when we lived down South. I think it has something to do with more consistent temperatures, and a lot less wind, not to mention wayyyyy less humidity. Yes, I do have a point, hold on, let me find it again... Ah. There it is. Alaska has some of the most beautiful summers in the world. We have incredibly rich, moist soil, which produces simply stunning vegetation. The mountains, the lakes, seriously, I cannot describe to you people how beautiful it is here. Every summer but this one. I don't know what the deal is, but this summer has been nothing but rain, rain, oh, and more rain. See, this is how a typical Alaska summer should go:
April = Break-up month. Lots of slush, lots of mud, cool temperatures, a little rain as the sky adjusts to not sending snow.
May = Clean-up month. Seriously. The first weekend of May, all the schools hold contests for who can pick up the most litter. The dump has several free days, where you can clean up your house/yard/garage/whatever and dump anything and everything you don't want for free. Local charities, organizations, and military groups hold donation drives, and have volunteers out cleaning up the highways. Very little rain, lots of sun. Not a lot of green, and the ground is still too cold to plant in, but warming up nicely.
June and July = Summer! Beautiful sunny days, warm temperatures (75-85 usually, but because of our location, it feels about 15 degrees warmer than the actual temperature). Everything is green and gorgeous, flowers are blooming, vegetables are growing, blah blah blah.
OK, now how sad is it that I can't remember what it was I was going to say about August and September? So anyway, it rained. A LOT. We're not talking drenching downpours that lasted a couple hours and moved on for a week or so, we're talking nasty cold wet drizzles that lasted weeks at a time with maybe 12 hours of relief. It was AWFUL.
Moving on, from 8/5/08:
I had the weirdest dream last night...You were there, and you, and you too! And there were munchkins, and flying monkeys, and a wizard- oh, oops, wrong dream.
Seriously, though, I had an interesting dream last night. And that's unusual for me to comment on, because I am one of those who either doesn't dream, or I forget about anything remotely resembling a dream instantly upon waking. A couple times a year, though, I will have a dream that seems to come out of nowhere, and is so vivid in some aspects that it's like I'm still living it. Last night I was so blessed.
A lot of the details are already starting to fade, but I know this - I was supposed to be in a little town about an hour south of here, fishing. The hotel, the shady car lot next door, and the town in general looked NOTHING like the real thing, and I vaguely recall something about changing our mind about where we were going, so I don't know where I really was. The beginning of the dream is so weird that I'm having a hard time holding on to the details, but I remember us checking the trunks of every car on the lot next door to the hotel, trying to see if our keys would open them. I remember the guy who owned the car lot being one of those mob types, and a whole lot of weird stuff going on, and we were spying on him. And then, I remember pulling up in front of the hotel, and someone pulling in right after me. I was scared, because we had just witnessed "something we shouldn't have" the night before over at the car lot, and the people in the car behind me were watching me. They followed me into the hotel restaurant, where I was eating with my husband and my kids. And then, out of nowhere, they produced a gorgeous little girl, about 9 months old, and handed her to me. I looked up, and saw this young
Hmmm.... GOSH I wish I could remember this one!!!! I know it was strange, but cool. Somehow or another, I ended up with the sweetest little baby girl ever. I remember her name: Piper Anastasia. Where the name came from I couldn't say. This is one I never would have come up with on my own, I promise.
Ok, next... From 8/15/08:
For the last several years, I have noticed some strange things about myself. I've always been a good, strong sleeper, but lately, it seems like I can't ever get enough sleep. It takes everything I ave to force myself out of bed in the morning. Then at night, I know I'm exhausted and I know I need to go to bed, but the peace and quiet after the kids are in bed is so seductive, I cant seem to force myself to go to bed. I've always had relatively low self esteem, but it seems like I can't do anything right, EVER. Everything I touch turns to shit. Where's Midas when you need him? Gold is a lot prettier than shit... I've always been somewhat impulsive (umm.. ok, a lot impulsive), and had a short temper, but now, the slightest little thing sends me into fits of absolute rage. Sometimes I scare myself because of how angry I get. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt someone sometimes. Although lately, it takes too much energy to even care about being angry. I've always been a loner, spending hours, days even in my room alone, reading books, writing stories, drawing, bu now? I spend the majority of my day (when I'm not sitting there, staring at the wall, thinking about how futile it is for me to even start a project at wok, or start the laundry, because I'm going o screw it up and not finish anyway) imagining what my new life will be like. The life where I just walk out the door one day and never come back. Walk away from my job, my home, my kids, my husband... everything. It' not like they'll miss me, I'm not really a lot of fun to be around anymore. And if I leave, I'll be alone. And that's all I want sometimes, just to be alone. No noise, no touching, no having to think about everyone else in house's feelings, when it seems like no one ever thinks about mine. Not having to be anything for anyone, other than just plain old fucked up me. I've noticed the headaches that I used to gt about once a month, now come about twice a week, sometimes so bad I will be willing to sell my soul just to make it stop, but I can't because who wants a soulless mommy? A soulless mommy won't get you milk even though you ask 15 times 30 seconds like you're trying to break some kind of screwed up world record. A soulless mommy wouldn't care that you've lost your mittens for the 3rd time this week an we have to go to Walmart RIGHT NOW because if you are forced to go to school without gloves you're hand will fall off and die, oh and don't forget, sister has a project due tomorrow morning that needs supplies we don't have. It's exhausting, and sometimes I just hate my life.
Not sure where I was going with that one, obviously a pity party, but I think I was leading towards something positive there at the end. Or maybe not, hell I don't know. I've slept since then.
From 11/26/08:
It is time once again for our annual Thanksgiving free-for-all. Let us all pray we will survive it again this year.
When I was growing up, I always wanted to be that family that went all out for every holiday - you know the one, that obnoxious Ned Flanders-y neighbor who has all the decorations, and the stay at home mom who only knows how to cook from scratch? Yeah, well, that wasn't us - not by a long shot. One year for Christmas, my mom was so depressed that she informed me if I wanted my gifts wrapped, I'd have to do it myself. So I did, complete with the surprise face Christmas morning. That worked so well for her, she did it every year after that. I always swore my kids would have better holiday memories than I did. Then I married a broke loser, bounced around from house to house to house for years, losing most of my inherited holiday decorations, and rarely having a place to put up what I did have left. I had high hopes though, that things would turn around. When I met John, his family was completely Christmas obsessed. They also celebrated various other holidays throughout the year, like the 4th of July, with a vibrancy I had never before seen. However, his family did not pass along the holiday bug to him , at least not for any holiday other than Christmas. The year after I first met John, his grandfather passed away. For several years after that, John wanted nothing to do with any of the holidays, including Christmas. He slowly starting coming around though, and started celebrating the one holiday his family never had before - Thanksgiving.
Now, I personally have never really seen the purpose of Thanksgiving. I have always hated it, mostly as a kid because my birthday always falls within a week of it, and so my birthday meal almost always consists of dry turkey. Not to mention, it's hard to have a birthday party as a kid when all your friends are visiting relatives for the holiday weekend. When we lived near my grandparents, my grandma would do a big Thanksgiving meal, but since we didn't get along with my mom's brother, and all his kids are at last 10 years older than me, it was never what I would call a happy or fun day. All through John's childhood, his family went hunting over the holiday weekend (deer season almost always opens that week), so no one was ever home to make the big meal. I'm still not entirely sure how it started, but for some reason, about 5 years ago, John just decided one day he wanted a real Thanksgiving, and since none of his family was going to do it, he decided we would. So we did.
His mom came over for the day. His sister and her boyfriend dropped by on their way back home from hunting that morning. His good friend and his family stopped by. We watched movies, played cards, drank a little, ate a lot, and had a fantastic day. We never set a time for anyone to be there, we just started cooking around noon, and cooked a little at a time so there was fresh stuff to serve all night long. Nobody was on a schedule, everyone just came over when they felt like it, stayed as long as they could, and moved on. I thought it would be a horrible stressful day, but it was actually pretty nice. Our house was teeny tiny, so there's no way we could have accommodated everyone all at the same time for one big sit down meal anyway. The next year, we did it again. We invited a few more friends to stop by when they were done with their family events. Every year, it got a little larger.
Then, we moved here. The only family anywhere near us is my dad. His girlfriend has 3 adult children, one with kids of her own, that have never been to my house for some reason I can't explain. They've been invited, but they never show up. My best friend since I was 4 lives down the road, but all of her family and her husband's family are nearby, so their day is usually pretty full. I figured our annual Thanksgiving party was going to be a huge flop, but then, a guy my husband works with decided to move over the holiday weekend. They didn't have any Thanksgiving plans because they were going to be so busy, so John invited him and his wife and their 5 kids over. I had never met any of these people, but it ended up being almost like our previous holiday parties, so it was really nice. I remember being horribly embarrassed because our home was less than stellar at that time, literally falling down around us, and I was so afraid of what they were going to think of us, but I ended up with a new friend, a great babysitter, and Princess got two new friends out of the deal too. Last year, we had moved into a nicer home, and we did the hosting thing all over again, with a few more people added in to the mix.
Not really sure how I was going to finish this one, but I can say we moved into our new house, and it actually had much better play space for all the kids and pets that invaded us. We had a great time, up until Chunky started puking all over the couch, the floor, me, my friend who just had surgery, his bed, his brother, and anything else within easy reach. I'm probably going to get in trouble for saying this, but we thought it was just a hangover. My dad and my friend's asshole husband both thought it was hilarious to slip the baby beer every chance they got. Seriously, who gives a 2 year old access to open beer cans? Every time I saw them I'd take it away, but as soon as my back was turned they were at it again. Grr. Anyway, his brother woke up the next night with projectiles shooting out of both ends, and then I had it, and later the next week my friend's 5 kids all got it, so turns out it was just a stomach flu, but still....
Overall, my life has been crazy, but no more so than usual. I make a lot of excuses, especially for not posting. I started this for me, I'm really the only one who reads it, so all I'm doing is making excuses to myself, but I can't seem to stop. So I will try to do better, but I guarantee nothing. I do have tons of stuff to post about though, everything from finding my birth family to suing the airport to buying my first ever home that I love more than I could ever describe, just because it's mine. There's also stuff about that crazy wedding, and the ridiculous decision to make all of our Christmas gifts this year, and so much more. So stay tuned, and I promise, there will be new postings, and less than a month apart.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
I'm baaaaccckkkk
So, in the time since I last talked to you all, LOTS of things have happened. My office has moved, I moved, I arranged the wedding from hell, I broke my foot, then put so much use on my walking cast that I broke IT, Princess started off at her new school with one hell of a bang, we missed Halloween, I survived what should have been Pumpkin's 6th birthday with a minimum of tears (but lots of stress, since it was the same day as the wedding), and more. All of which I will get to, eventually.
However, there is one topic at the front of my mind today, as it is with most of America. Now, as I have mentioned before, I normally take very little interest in politics. I scraped through high school government with a D-. I honestly don't know the difference between Congress and the Senate. And normally, I don't care. This election has been different though. Alaska has taken center stage in this election, for several reasons (namely Palin and Stevens). Everywhere I go, especially at work, I am thrust into a political discussion. Most of the time, I am left standing with a stupid look on my face, not really following the conversation. I do have opinions, but I can rarely coherently defend them. Frankly, I would have gladly voted for Hilary. I like her, I like her style, I like the way she ran the country the first time she was in office (oh come on, you really don't think Bill had any real input, do you?), and I think she would have been good for our country. I like McCain too. As far as Republican conservatives go, he's a pretty decent guy. I'm not a big fan of Obama. Mostly because I'm afraid he's more flash than substance, but to be honest, I don't know that much about him, so my fears may be completely ungrounded. I think some of the people against him because his name "sounds like Osama" are so fantastically stupid that I no longer wonder why our country is in the toilet. Palin, on the other hand, scares the hell out of me. She is a fantastic governor. I'm glad she will be returning to our state. I think the whole "Troopergate" scandal was blown ridiculously out of proportion, and while I'm not a conspiracy theorist, I can definitely see where a certain element in our state is just hunting for any excuse to throw her under the bus. The idea of her in charge of our country, however, just gives me chills.
Despite what she has demonstrated thus far, she's not stupid. She is actually a very intelligent, friendly woman. She brought about huge changes and fantastic growth to a previously neglected area of our state. I remember driving through Wasilla when I was a little girl, on my way to our family homestead. There was a gas station/convenience store on the corner, and a stop sign. Now, there's a booming city, rivalling Anchorage in options for shopping, dining, entertainment, etc. The one and only thing I disagree with is the addition of a sales tax to the area. It's one of the few locations in Alaska that have a sales tax, but with expansion comes the need for expanded wallets, and so I do prefer this method to raising yet again the property taxes, as Begich chose to do in Anchorage. It's a small percentage, it has cap, and it's spread more evenly among the people. A LOT of people in Alaska choose to rent simply because of the ridiculously high property taxes, so a relatively small percentage of the population carries the majority of the tax burden in our state. Anyway. She does, however, have some seriously scary opinions of home and hearth, and the treatment of women in general. Granted, I have a decidedly liberal attitude. But even so, I cannot see how turning back the clocks 50 years or so will help us NOW. And it seems to me somewhat hypocritical for someone who believes that women should be at home raising the kids and doing the housework, to actively seek out a national appointment, dragging her kids along with her, pulling them out of school, and forcing them into the spotlight. But I digress (alright, I digress a lot).
The point of all this is that this morning, I had a conversation with a coworker. Generally, I like this man. I think of him as very intelligent, friendly, funny, and he usually has some interesting news tidbit to drop on me in the morning, generally one that makes me chuckle all day (he was the one who broke the PETA and breast milk story to me). The day before the election, however, he morphed into a Republican demon - telling me how he had talked to his grown son the night before, discussing the vote, and how he had never been more proud of his son when he said "Don't worry Dad, I've voting for McCain, and so is everyone I know. We all know Obama's full of shit." Now, again, I do have some concerns about his sincerity, but I truly believe the man has some wonderful ideas. And while I don't expect him to completely solve this country's problem in his time in office, I DO expect that he will put forth one hell of an effort. While I think he may not be able to accomplish all that he has set out to, that doesn't mean I think he's full of shit, and while I understand that everyone's political views are different, I think dumping that kind of statement on someone, who you haven't bothered to even ask first what their views ARE, smacks of the exact type of arrogance that has helped to flush this country down the toilet. Anyway, so I replied with "Well, I wouldn't go that far. I think he has great ideas. I just don't know that he will be able to accomplish them all. My choice would have been Hillary, but I'll take him over Palin any day." The look of shock was almost comical. After he stuttered out "WHHHHYYYY?" in a whiney tone more reminiscent of my 4 year old than a grown man, I said that I think she was the single most "anti-woman" candidate since I was born. The thought of her making decisions for me and my daughter terrifies me. And he looks at me, and says with the deepest of scorn, "Are you talking about the abortion thing?"
And here it was my turn to sit with the deer in the headlights look of shock. The abortion "thing"???!!!! Are you kidding me? Even sweeping aside her views on religion, sexual orientation, and everything else she stands for that I 100% do NOT support, the abortion "thing" alone would have been enough to sway my vote against her.
Here's the thing - I actually don't believe in abortion as a personal choice for ME. That does not mean that I won't support and defend the right for every other woman on this planet to have SAFE access to that choice. One of my favorite bumper stickers, which I think sums the whole thing up so well, states "If you can't trust me with a choice, how can you trust me with a child?" And how much truth is there in that? As an adoptee, I am grateful that my mother's choice was for life, but that doesn't mean she made the best choice for everyone involved. What it does mean i that she was able to make a choice. And that's what counts. I personally believe that abortion should be used only in the direst of circumstances. I hate that there are some women in this world who routinely use abortion as a method of birth control. I also know that when we start drawing lines, there are people who fall through the cracks. If we say that only women who have been raped can have abortions, well, what kind of proof is required for that? Do you have to have a police report in hand, taken immediately after the incident? What about those women who, for whatever reason, never report their rapes? What about those cases where the continuation of the pregnancy would cause death for either mother or child? Who determines that? And really, what are the percentages of women and young girls who have no medical access to be able to afford the type of doctor it would take to make that determination? What about the drug and alcohol addicts, who are unable to care for themselves, let alone a child. If they are forced o give those children up for adoption, does that make it better? In most cases, it actually continues the addiction cycle. And then there are the other cases... the women who actually used birth control and it failed. The women who were doing everything in their power to prevent an untimely pregnancy, and it simply didn't work? What about the girls in college, who have a one night stand, or even a steady boyfriend, but aren't ready for marriage and family? How many of them would be forced out of school and onto welfare? How many failed marriages start with the words "I take care of my responsibilities?" (and yes, I actually do know someone who was using protection, got pregnant anyway, and this was how she was proposed to by the father, who ended up dumping her 5 months in because they were completely incompatible, and has yet to contribute to that child's life in any way, leaving the entire burden on her. Would she have chosen abortion had she known from the beginning he wouldn't be there? Probably.)
You know, I could go on and on. But it just absolutely kills me to hear the basic human right to choose summed up as "that abortion thing." I just cannot understand how, in our supposedly enlightened world, anyone could possibly refer to such an important decision as that.
However, there is one topic at the front of my mind today, as it is with most of America. Now, as I have mentioned before, I normally take very little interest in politics. I scraped through high school government with a D-. I honestly don't know the difference between Congress and the Senate. And normally, I don't care. This election has been different though. Alaska has taken center stage in this election, for several reasons (namely Palin and Stevens). Everywhere I go, especially at work, I am thrust into a political discussion. Most of the time, I am left standing with a stupid look on my face, not really following the conversation. I do have opinions, but I can rarely coherently defend them. Frankly, I would have gladly voted for Hilary. I like her, I like her style, I like the way she ran the country the first time she was in office (oh come on, you really don't think Bill had any real input, do you?), and I think she would have been good for our country. I like McCain too. As far as Republican conservatives go, he's a pretty decent guy. I'm not a big fan of Obama. Mostly because I'm afraid he's more flash than substance, but to be honest, I don't know that much about him, so my fears may be completely ungrounded. I think some of the people against him because his name "sounds like Osama" are so fantastically stupid that I no longer wonder why our country is in the toilet. Palin, on the other hand, scares the hell out of me. She is a fantastic governor. I'm glad she will be returning to our state. I think the whole "Troopergate" scandal was blown ridiculously out of proportion, and while I'm not a conspiracy theorist, I can definitely see where a certain element in our state is just hunting for any excuse to throw her under the bus. The idea of her in charge of our country, however, just gives me chills.
Despite what she has demonstrated thus far, she's not stupid. She is actually a very intelligent, friendly woman. She brought about huge changes and fantastic growth to a previously neglected area of our state. I remember driving through Wasilla when I was a little girl, on my way to our family homestead. There was a gas station/convenience store on the corner, and a stop sign. Now, there's a booming city, rivalling Anchorage in options for shopping, dining, entertainment, etc. The one and only thing I disagree with is the addition of a sales tax to the area. It's one of the few locations in Alaska that have a sales tax, but with expansion comes the need for expanded wallets, and so I do prefer this method to raising yet again the property taxes, as Begich chose to do in Anchorage. It's a small percentage, it has cap, and it's spread more evenly among the people. A LOT of people in Alaska choose to rent simply because of the ridiculously high property taxes, so a relatively small percentage of the population carries the majority of the tax burden in our state. Anyway. She does, however, have some seriously scary opinions of home and hearth, and the treatment of women in general. Granted, I have a decidedly liberal attitude. But even so, I cannot see how turning back the clocks 50 years or so will help us NOW. And it seems to me somewhat hypocritical for someone who believes that women should be at home raising the kids and doing the housework, to actively seek out a national appointment, dragging her kids along with her, pulling them out of school, and forcing them into the spotlight. But I digress (alright, I digress a lot).
The point of all this is that this morning, I had a conversation with a coworker. Generally, I like this man. I think of him as very intelligent, friendly, funny, and he usually has some interesting news tidbit to drop on me in the morning, generally one that makes me chuckle all day (he was the one who broke the PETA and breast milk story to me). The day before the election, however, he morphed into a Republican demon - telling me how he had talked to his grown son the night before, discussing the vote, and how he had never been more proud of his son when he said "Don't worry Dad, I've voting for McCain, and so is everyone I know. We all know Obama's full of shit." Now, again, I do have some concerns about his sincerity, but I truly believe the man has some wonderful ideas. And while I don't expect him to completely solve this country's problem in his time in office, I DO expect that he will put forth one hell of an effort. While I think he may not be able to accomplish all that he has set out to, that doesn't mean I think he's full of shit, and while I understand that everyone's political views are different, I think dumping that kind of statement on someone, who you haven't bothered to even ask first what their views ARE, smacks of the exact type of arrogance that has helped to flush this country down the toilet. Anyway, so I replied with "Well, I wouldn't go that far. I think he has great ideas. I just don't know that he will be able to accomplish them all. My choice would have been Hillary, but I'll take him over Palin any day." The look of shock was almost comical. After he stuttered out "WHHHHYYYY?" in a whiney tone more reminiscent of my 4 year old than a grown man, I said that I think she was the single most "anti-woman" candidate since I was born. The thought of her making decisions for me and my daughter terrifies me. And he looks at me, and says with the deepest of scorn, "Are you talking about the abortion thing?"
And here it was my turn to sit with the deer in the headlights look of shock. The abortion "thing"???!!!! Are you kidding me? Even sweeping aside her views on religion, sexual orientation, and everything else she stands for that I 100% do NOT support, the abortion "thing" alone would have been enough to sway my vote against her.
Here's the thing - I actually don't believe in abortion as a personal choice for ME. That does not mean that I won't support and defend the right for every other woman on this planet to have SAFE access to that choice. One of my favorite bumper stickers, which I think sums the whole thing up so well, states "If you can't trust me with a choice, how can you trust me with a child?" And how much truth is there in that? As an adoptee, I am grateful that my mother's choice was for life, but that doesn't mean she made the best choice for everyone involved. What it does mean i that she was able to make a choice. And that's what counts. I personally believe that abortion should be used only in the direst of circumstances. I hate that there are some women in this world who routinely use abortion as a method of birth control. I also know that when we start drawing lines, there are people who fall through the cracks. If we say that only women who have been raped can have abortions, well, what kind of proof is required for that? Do you have to have a police report in hand, taken immediately after the incident? What about those women who, for whatever reason, never report their rapes? What about those cases where the continuation of the pregnancy would cause death for either mother or child? Who determines that? And really, what are the percentages of women and young girls who have no medical access to be able to afford the type of doctor it would take to make that determination? What about the drug and alcohol addicts, who are unable to care for themselves, let alone a child. If they are forced o give those children up for adoption, does that make it better? In most cases, it actually continues the addiction cycle. And then there are the other cases... the women who actually used birth control and it failed. The women who were doing everything in their power to prevent an untimely pregnancy, and it simply didn't work? What about the girls in college, who have a one night stand, or even a steady boyfriend, but aren't ready for marriage and family? How many of them would be forced out of school and onto welfare? How many failed marriages start with the words "I take care of my responsibilities?" (and yes, I actually do know someone who was using protection, got pregnant anyway, and this was how she was proposed to by the father, who ended up dumping her 5 months in because they were completely incompatible, and has yet to contribute to that child's life in any way, leaving the entire burden on her. Would she have chosen abortion had she known from the beginning he wouldn't be there? Probably.)
You know, I could go on and on. But it just absolutely kills me to hear the basic human right to choose summed up as "that abortion thing." I just cannot understand how, in our supposedly enlightened world, anyone could possibly refer to such an important decision as that.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
What happened to romance?
I admit it, I'm a sucker for a good romance novel. I just love the happy endings. I love how sure the happy couple always is of their love for each other. I love the sappy speeches, the expressions of undying devotion.
But I always wonder, just how much of that is real? I know for some people, it probably is. But not for me. It always is in the beginning, but something happens, and as time goes by, I find myself more alone than when I started. Is it that way for everyone, or am I just not with the right person yet?
I remember when I first met John. I had just broken up with The Jerk. I was on my own for the first time in my life. I had just turned 21, and had just attempted to go out, by myself, for the first time. Let's be honest with each other here, shall we? I have ZERO self-confidence. I mean none. I am terrified of going places alone. Most of the time, I still dread going to the grocery store by myself. Whenever possible, I'll either beg John or Dev to go with me, or even better, to go for me so I don't have to leave the house. And maybe part of the problem is that I am surrounded by such confident people. Both John and his mom can start up 30 minute conversations with anyone they meet. Whenever I try, it comes off as a desperate attempt by a crazy person, and I get a lot of "uh huh, right, OK, whatever you say, I'vegottogonowBYE!" Maybe it's because I was raised by a self-hating, social anxiety-riddled, abusive single parent. There was no balance. I think I certainly prove the theory that social behavior is learned, not inherited, considering I was adopted at birth.
Anyway, I was terrified to go by myself. I tried all night to find ANYone who would go with me. By midnight, I'd given up, and just decided to go alone. (Which is pretty silly, considering in the heart of the Bible Belt, bars close promptly at 2am.) So I went to this bar. It was loud, it was dark, it had good music (as a matter of fact, they were shooting a music video that night, so it was extra crowded). I was hit on by a couple of really drunk guys. I never had a drink, or danced, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could do this. So the next week, I went back. I convinced a coworker to go with me. She met a guy earlier in the week, so she brought him along. They were drinking, and dancing, and having a great time. I was sober as could be, feeling really weird because everyone around me was having such a great time and I just wasn't a part of it. And then, out of nowhere, this guy walks past me, and whispers in my ear "Smile, it gets worse." Then he's gone. A few songs later, he walks by again and asks for my name. A few songs after that, while I'm at the bar getting a drink, he asks me to dance. And before he left that night, he asked for my phone number. I gave it, partly because I was intrigued that this guy, who so obviously knew the regulars, had friends that included girls much prettier than me, had stopped to talk to ME of all people. He could have talked to my friend, who at that point was all but stripping on the dance floor. He could have talked to anyone, but he chose me.
I had never been singled out of a crowd like that, and I think it went a little to my head. It was all I could think about for days. I didn't expect anything to come of it, but then, a few days later, I came home from work to a message on my machine from John. I called him back, and we talked until 6am. That night, and every night that week. Pretty much from that moment on, I spent every available moment with him. He was a bouncer at that particular bar, so that amounted to me spending three nights a week there after work, until closing. And then I ended up either going home with him, or he came home with me.
We talked about EVERYTHING. I thought, for once, I had found someone who really KNEW me, who understood me like no one else ever had. And even though he told me things about himself, I don't think I wanted to listen, or believe. He told me that he was a difficult person to be with - stubborn, mule-headed, and raised in a different era. He told me that sex was the single most important factor in his life - that everything he was was tied up in it. He felt similarly to me in some ways - he felt unattractive, unwanted, outcast as a child, but he had found that he had a knack for pleasing women. So therefore, he gauged his entire life from that point on based on sex - if he wasn't getting any, it was because he was no longer attractive, or wanted. It was because he was a failure. I heard all that, but I sure as hell didn't understand it. I also heard him say that he had just come out of a nasty divorce, his second, and that he didn't want to get married again, or even truly settle down, anytime in the near future. I took that as a challenge. I figured that meant I had to change that about him.
Now don't get me wrong, he wasn't all bad. I felt more loved than I ever had in my life. He treated me exceptionally well - he bought me flowers, he rubbed my back when I came home from work, he held my hand when we walked through the grocery store, he pulled me over to sit next to him on the bench seat of his truck because he wanted to feel me as close to him as possible. He danced with me, and only me, every night he worked (which may not sound like much, but the bouncers were supposed to make themselves available, to dance with the lonely girls to help drum up business. He could have been fired for what he did.) He gave me pretty much anything I asked for, whether it be something frivolous and romantic, or boring and practical, or even just his time and attention, which I was desperate for.
And a month into the relationship, I was head over heals in love with him. And I made the mistake of telling him so. I don't know if he truly didn't feel it for me, or if he just wasn't ready to hear it, but he told me that day that he wasn't in love with me, and that he wasn't ready for a serious relationship. That while he would be faithful to me, he wanted it no strings attached, something he could walk away from at any time. He told me that he would call me and let me know if he had the urge to sleep with someone else before he did it, just so I would know and I could decide if I wanted to continue our relationship. And he broke my foolish little heart into thousands of tiny tiny pieces.
I lived with it for a few weeks. I had a "friend" at the time, who turned out to be not so friendly after all, who convinced me that he was doing me wrong (even though he hadn't told me anything he hadn't said at the very beginning - I just hadn't wanted to listen). I let her convince me to go out with her one night, alone, without John. I hadn't done that since that very first time. I was terrified, and I latched onto one of John's friends, a fellow bouncer, and also his boss at his day job. He was off work that night, and was drinking with a few of the other bouncers. My "friend" dumped me almost as soon as she hit the door, and I didn't know what to do with myself. So I proceeded to get shit-faced drunk. And when he offered to drive me home, I said yes. And when he kissed me in the car, I didn't say no. Partly because what John had said about wanting to keep his options open had hurt me so deeply, and I figured if he could play that game, so could I. Partly because I was so unsure of myself that it never occurred to me to say no. So when he got to my house, and followed me in the door, I still didn't say no. I certainly wouldn't call that experience rape, but I sure didn't want it. I cried myself to sleep that night, and woke up with one hell of a hangover to the phone ringing at 0-dawn-hundred. It was John, and I don't know how he knew, but the first words out of his mouth were "So who'd you end up fucking last night?" And when I told him, he told me he never wanted to talk to me again - that I was to burn his number, and forget he ever existed.
And my poor little heart, that had already been broken, disintegrated. I was numb to everything for the next couple of hours. And when the phone rang again, and John said he would talk to me, I jumped at the chance. I went to see him, and I cried, and I begged for forgiveness. I told him how sorry I was, that I hadn't meant it, that I had done it because he said he was going to sleep with other people, that I thought it was what he wanted, that I was drunk and stupid, anything, anything at all he wanted me to say, I would, if he would just love me again. And he told me that I would have to earn his trust. That he wouldn't really want to be around me for a while, and that I would just have to deal with it, ride it out, if I wanted to be with him.
So, I did. I felt him flinch every time I touched him. And so I stopped touching him. I dealt with the absolute silence when I told him I loved him. And so I stopped telling him. I learned to get over the pain when he would dance with other girls. And so I stopped asking him. I waited for the phone to ring every day like it used to, and I accepted that it wouldn't. And so I stopped hoping. I went around in a daze for months. And then The Jerk pulled a stunt that got me arrested. And then I lost my home, and was put in the position where I had to send my daughter to live with my mother for a while, because I was living in my car. And then, when I went to visit my baby for Christmas, on the way home, I totalled John's truck - the truck his son had picked out with him, the truck that meant more to him than any other possession. And then, while I was being treated for the hip injury, I found out I was pregnant. And then, I lost the baby. And I think I lost my mind a little. I know I wanted to die. I know I wanted everything to end, that nothing was worth living for any more. And John came back to me, at least a little. It was never again like it was in the beginning, but I wasn't being actively punished any more.
And I lost two more babies that year, but I dealt with it, moved on. None was as devastating as the first. I think I was just so numb after that that I really didn't care. Then I got pregnant one last time. And 9 months later, my beautiful little boy was born. He was my miracle baby, after all I had been through that year. He was John's too. Pumpkin and John had a connection like I have never seen. I was so jealous, but so proud of it, that I didn't care that John and I were still just drifting along. We had so many things happen over the next two years, I didn't have time to worry about it anyway. Between the job changes and losing our home and vehicles, starting all over again in a crappy trailer with borrowed cars, horrible jobs, and no money, plus the ongoing legal battles with The Jerk, it was so draining, so exhausting, that I didn't care about anything else.
That's when the sex issue really started coming up. I was so stressed, and so tired, that I had no interest in sex, at all. I was fat, awkward still with all the baby weight and the stretch marks. I'd never been particularly pretty, but at last with Princess, my body went back to normal. With Pumpkin, it just got bigger and bigger, even after he was born. I was disgusted with my body, and with myself, for being so weak that I couldn't fight my way through our problems, and just "pick myself back up." The less I wanted sex, the more insecure John got, to the point where he was downright nasty to me if I didn't put out. Sex has been, and still continues to be, a battleground for us.
After Pumpkin died, it go even worse. Something in John died that day too, something none of our other children has ever been able to fix, or even start to fill back in. His health has tumbled downhill, he body has gotten out of shape, and all of his years have suddenly crept up on him. He is feeling his age, and now more than ever, he needs the sex to reaffirm himself that he's still loved, and desired. And now, more than ever, I need to be left alone. I have spent so many years, locking away everything from him, that I can't figure out how to bridge this gulf that stands between us. And until I have an emotional connection, I can't enjoy a physical one.
And even though he'd never admit it, John needs the emotional connection too. But he still, after all these years, distrusts me, or maybe it's just a habit by now, I don't know. But mostly, because he doesn't get laid very often, he prowls the personal ads, and talks to other women online. That's all he does, is talk. I've seen the emails, there's never any cyber sex, or anything even like it. He's never met any of them, but he flirts, and has the lighthearted chat that we used to have way back when. And it hurts me so much, to see him have with other women what he once had with me.
I don't know which part hurts more - the fact that I see basically everything he said and did back then was just a line, designed to get in my pants, or that he can just continue to throw it out there, knowing how desperate I am for that kind of attention from him again. It's funny, back then, I would have given the moon for him to say he loved me. He acted like he did, but it wasn't enough. Now, he says it all the time, with about as much emotion as he uses when he says he loves toast. And I would give the earth for him to just act like he did again.
And so, I read sappy romance novels. And I wonder, what happens 5 years down the road? 10? At what point does happily ever after stop being good enough? Is there even such a thing?
But I always wonder, just how much of that is real? I know for some people, it probably is. But not for me. It always is in the beginning, but something happens, and as time goes by, I find myself more alone than when I started. Is it that way for everyone, or am I just not with the right person yet?
I remember when I first met John. I had just broken up with The Jerk. I was on my own for the first time in my life. I had just turned 21, and had just attempted to go out, by myself, for the first time. Let's be honest with each other here, shall we? I have ZERO self-confidence. I mean none. I am terrified of going places alone. Most of the time, I still dread going to the grocery store by myself. Whenever possible, I'll either beg John or Dev to go with me, or even better, to go for me so I don't have to leave the house. And maybe part of the problem is that I am surrounded by such confident people. Both John and his mom can start up 30 minute conversations with anyone they meet. Whenever I try, it comes off as a desperate attempt by a crazy person, and I get a lot of "uh huh, right, OK, whatever you say, I'vegottogonowBYE!" Maybe it's because I was raised by a self-hating, social anxiety-riddled, abusive single parent. There was no balance. I think I certainly prove the theory that social behavior is learned, not inherited, considering I was adopted at birth.
Anyway, I was terrified to go by myself. I tried all night to find ANYone who would go with me. By midnight, I'd given up, and just decided to go alone. (Which is pretty silly, considering in the heart of the Bible Belt, bars close promptly at 2am.) So I went to this bar. It was loud, it was dark, it had good music (as a matter of fact, they were shooting a music video that night, so it was extra crowded). I was hit on by a couple of really drunk guys. I never had a drink, or danced, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could do this. So the next week, I went back. I convinced a coworker to go with me. She met a guy earlier in the week, so she brought him along. They were drinking, and dancing, and having a great time. I was sober as could be, feeling really weird because everyone around me was having such a great time and I just wasn't a part of it. And then, out of nowhere, this guy walks past me, and whispers in my ear "Smile, it gets worse." Then he's gone. A few songs later, he walks by again and asks for my name. A few songs after that, while I'm at the bar getting a drink, he asks me to dance. And before he left that night, he asked for my phone number. I gave it, partly because I was intrigued that this guy, who so obviously knew the regulars, had friends that included girls much prettier than me, had stopped to talk to ME of all people. He could have talked to my friend, who at that point was all but stripping on the dance floor. He could have talked to anyone, but he chose me.
I had never been singled out of a crowd like that, and I think it went a little to my head. It was all I could think about for days. I didn't expect anything to come of it, but then, a few days later, I came home from work to a message on my machine from John. I called him back, and we talked until 6am. That night, and every night that week. Pretty much from that moment on, I spent every available moment with him. He was a bouncer at that particular bar, so that amounted to me spending three nights a week there after work, until closing. And then I ended up either going home with him, or he came home with me.
We talked about EVERYTHING. I thought, for once, I had found someone who really KNEW me, who understood me like no one else ever had. And even though he told me things about himself, I don't think I wanted to listen, or believe. He told me that he was a difficult person to be with - stubborn, mule-headed, and raised in a different era. He told me that sex was the single most important factor in his life - that everything he was was tied up in it. He felt similarly to me in some ways - he felt unattractive, unwanted, outcast as a child, but he had found that he had a knack for pleasing women. So therefore, he gauged his entire life from that point on based on sex - if he wasn't getting any, it was because he was no longer attractive, or wanted. It was because he was a failure. I heard all that, but I sure as hell didn't understand it. I also heard him say that he had just come out of a nasty divorce, his second, and that he didn't want to get married again, or even truly settle down, anytime in the near future. I took that as a challenge. I figured that meant I had to change that about him.
Now don't get me wrong, he wasn't all bad. I felt more loved than I ever had in my life. He treated me exceptionally well - he bought me flowers, he rubbed my back when I came home from work, he held my hand when we walked through the grocery store, he pulled me over to sit next to him on the bench seat of his truck because he wanted to feel me as close to him as possible. He danced with me, and only me, every night he worked (which may not sound like much, but the bouncers were supposed to make themselves available, to dance with the lonely girls to help drum up business. He could have been fired for what he did.) He gave me pretty much anything I asked for, whether it be something frivolous and romantic, or boring and practical, or even just his time and attention, which I was desperate for.
And a month into the relationship, I was head over heals in love with him. And I made the mistake of telling him so. I don't know if he truly didn't feel it for me, or if he just wasn't ready to hear it, but he told me that day that he wasn't in love with me, and that he wasn't ready for a serious relationship. That while he would be faithful to me, he wanted it no strings attached, something he could walk away from at any time. He told me that he would call me and let me know if he had the urge to sleep with someone else before he did it, just so I would know and I could decide if I wanted to continue our relationship. And he broke my foolish little heart into thousands of tiny tiny pieces.
I lived with it for a few weeks. I had a "friend" at the time, who turned out to be not so friendly after all, who convinced me that he was doing me wrong (even though he hadn't told me anything he hadn't said at the very beginning - I just hadn't wanted to listen). I let her convince me to go out with her one night, alone, without John. I hadn't done that since that very first time. I was terrified, and I latched onto one of John's friends, a fellow bouncer, and also his boss at his day job. He was off work that night, and was drinking with a few of the other bouncers. My "friend" dumped me almost as soon as she hit the door, and I didn't know what to do with myself. So I proceeded to get shit-faced drunk. And when he offered to drive me home, I said yes. And when he kissed me in the car, I didn't say no. Partly because what John had said about wanting to keep his options open had hurt me so deeply, and I figured if he could play that game, so could I. Partly because I was so unsure of myself that it never occurred to me to say no. So when he got to my house, and followed me in the door, I still didn't say no. I certainly wouldn't call that experience rape, but I sure didn't want it. I cried myself to sleep that night, and woke up with one hell of a hangover to the phone ringing at 0-dawn-hundred. It was John, and I don't know how he knew, but the first words out of his mouth were "So who'd you end up fucking last night?" And when I told him, he told me he never wanted to talk to me again - that I was to burn his number, and forget he ever existed.
And my poor little heart, that had already been broken, disintegrated. I was numb to everything for the next couple of hours. And when the phone rang again, and John said he would talk to me, I jumped at the chance. I went to see him, and I cried, and I begged for forgiveness. I told him how sorry I was, that I hadn't meant it, that I had done it because he said he was going to sleep with other people, that I thought it was what he wanted, that I was drunk and stupid, anything, anything at all he wanted me to say, I would, if he would just love me again. And he told me that I would have to earn his trust. That he wouldn't really want to be around me for a while, and that I would just have to deal with it, ride it out, if I wanted to be with him.
So, I did. I felt him flinch every time I touched him. And so I stopped touching him. I dealt with the absolute silence when I told him I loved him. And so I stopped telling him. I learned to get over the pain when he would dance with other girls. And so I stopped asking him. I waited for the phone to ring every day like it used to, and I accepted that it wouldn't. And so I stopped hoping. I went around in a daze for months. And then The Jerk pulled a stunt that got me arrested. And then I lost my home, and was put in the position where I had to send my daughter to live with my mother for a while, because I was living in my car. And then, when I went to visit my baby for Christmas, on the way home, I totalled John's truck - the truck his son had picked out with him, the truck that meant more to him than any other possession. And then, while I was being treated for the hip injury, I found out I was pregnant. And then, I lost the baby. And I think I lost my mind a little. I know I wanted to die. I know I wanted everything to end, that nothing was worth living for any more. And John came back to me, at least a little. It was never again like it was in the beginning, but I wasn't being actively punished any more.
And I lost two more babies that year, but I dealt with it, moved on. None was as devastating as the first. I think I was just so numb after that that I really didn't care. Then I got pregnant one last time. And 9 months later, my beautiful little boy was born. He was my miracle baby, after all I had been through that year. He was John's too. Pumpkin and John had a connection like I have never seen. I was so jealous, but so proud of it, that I didn't care that John and I were still just drifting along. We had so many things happen over the next two years, I didn't have time to worry about it anyway. Between the job changes and losing our home and vehicles, starting all over again in a crappy trailer with borrowed cars, horrible jobs, and no money, plus the ongoing legal battles with The Jerk, it was so draining, so exhausting, that I didn't care about anything else.
That's when the sex issue really started coming up. I was so stressed, and so tired, that I had no interest in sex, at all. I was fat, awkward still with all the baby weight and the stretch marks. I'd never been particularly pretty, but at last with Princess, my body went back to normal. With Pumpkin, it just got bigger and bigger, even after he was born. I was disgusted with my body, and with myself, for being so weak that I couldn't fight my way through our problems, and just "pick myself back up." The less I wanted sex, the more insecure John got, to the point where he was downright nasty to me if I didn't put out. Sex has been, and still continues to be, a battleground for us.
After Pumpkin died, it go even worse. Something in John died that day too, something none of our other children has ever been able to fix, or even start to fill back in. His health has tumbled downhill, he body has gotten out of shape, and all of his years have suddenly crept up on him. He is feeling his age, and now more than ever, he needs the sex to reaffirm himself that he's still loved, and desired. And now, more than ever, I need to be left alone. I have spent so many years, locking away everything from him, that I can't figure out how to bridge this gulf that stands between us. And until I have an emotional connection, I can't enjoy a physical one.
And even though he'd never admit it, John needs the emotional connection too. But he still, after all these years, distrusts me, or maybe it's just a habit by now, I don't know. But mostly, because he doesn't get laid very often, he prowls the personal ads, and talks to other women online. That's all he does, is talk. I've seen the emails, there's never any cyber sex, or anything even like it. He's never met any of them, but he flirts, and has the lighthearted chat that we used to have way back when. And it hurts me so much, to see him have with other women what he once had with me.
I don't know which part hurts more - the fact that I see basically everything he said and did back then was just a line, designed to get in my pants, or that he can just continue to throw it out there, knowing how desperate I am for that kind of attention from him again. It's funny, back then, I would have given the moon for him to say he loved me. He acted like he did, but it wasn't enough. Now, he says it all the time, with about as much emotion as he uses when he says he loves toast. And I would give the earth for him to just act like he did again.
And so, I read sappy romance novels. And I wonder, what happens 5 years down the road? 10? At what point does happily ever after stop being good enough? Is there even such a thing?
Friday, July 18, 2008
My blog style - no entries for a month, then 50 in a day
I suppose I could just make one great big entry, as that would be the sensible thing to do, but when have I ever done anything sensible? What is incredible to me though, is my motivation for this blog. The whole point was to use this as a form of therapy. I tend to internalize all my problems, feelings, whatever, until I can't take it anymore and I explode, all over all the people who don't deserve it. And so I thought, hey, here's a good idea. I can let everything out every day in a non confrontational, relatively nonjudgmental way, and then my kids never need to see me in all out pea-soup spewing, head turning demon possession mode. Not to mention I like writing, it makes it easier for me to say what actually needs to b said. I have discovered that when I get upset, I develop some crazy form of Alzheimer's, where I forget common words and all I can hear is my brain screaming "I hate you!" at anyone who comes within 5 feet of me. Just in case you're wondering, THAT is why I have never let my children have a birthday party. I am still scarred by the few attempts my mother made at letting me have a normal life - the sleepovers with new friends that started out with my mom being the coolest mom ever and ended with her screaming at me "Don't ever ask me for anything again you ungrateful little bitch!" while locking herself in her room for days on end. Not exactly the highlight of the evening. And then explaining to my friend's parents why my mom wasn't available to talk to, and where their precious child had learned such lovely language... well... you get the idea. And so, when my daughter was 2 or 3, ad I recognized this side of my mother in me that seems to get worse with every passing year, I put a stop to all functions that expose me to other people's children. Hey, my kids may be scarred for life because their mom's nuts, but at least they won't have the added embarrassment of it happening in front of their friends.
Hmm... where was I again? Oh yeah, so anyway the whole point was for me to talk about everything, every day, so I don't have these little meltdowns. But umm.... as you can see, that doesn't happen. Partly because I have discovered that I need time to process events. Otherwise all I ever talk about it my initial knee-jerk anger response. Sometimes I feel like I should just be carrying around a sign that says "VERY angry person, stay out of my way!" And partly because I am lazy. I know, I know... I told you all from the beginning I was lazy, but really, I don't think any of you believed me. And this latest laziness? Well, it's all your fault. Every day when I flip through my daily blog list, no one else has written anything either. There's weeks between posts sometimes. So there.
So give me a little time, and I will tell all. It may take a while, but really, I got all day, and nothing much better to do.
Hmm... where was I again? Oh yeah, so anyway the whole point was for me to talk about everything, every day, so I don't have these little meltdowns. But umm.... as you can see, that doesn't happen. Partly because I have discovered that I need time to process events. Otherwise all I ever talk about it my initial knee-jerk anger response. Sometimes I feel like I should just be carrying around a sign that says "VERY angry person, stay out of my way!" And partly because I am lazy. I know, I know... I told you all from the beginning I was lazy, but really, I don't think any of you believed me. And this latest laziness? Well, it's all your fault. Every day when I flip through my daily blog list, no one else has written anything either. There's weeks between posts sometimes. So there.
So give me a little time, and I will tell all. It may take a while, but really, I got all day, and nothing much better to do.
Summer vacation
Ahh, that magical time of year when your normally mostly well behaved children turn into Gremlins (and not the cute fuzzy one either, the howling, slimy, yucky ones with an attitude problem). My 10 year old's angry with me because I won't let her leave our street by herself, and none of the kids on our street want to play with her any more because she called another girl a name. My four year old is in the stage where some days he takes a nap, some days not, his allergies are bothering him, he's interested in everything, except when it comes time to do it, which all equals a great big bundle of whine. And the baby, well... if he isn't outside at least 2 hours a day, he becomes destructo boy. Which would not be a problem, except for the mid 50's temperatures and the constant downpour of rain. I don't care if they play in the rain when it's warm, but cold and wet, not a good combo.
All in all, I have a house full of howler monkeys.
All in all, I have a house full of howler monkeys.
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