Women, Food, and God - The End / The Final Review

I'm not usually one to ramble on about God and spirituality. I believe in God and I am spiritual in my own way. I'm a pretty good Catholic girl; however, I don't feel the need to inform the world. I'm perfectly happy be-bopping my own marry way and letting everyone else be-bop theirs. My guess this comes from my years as a public high school teacher, you know the whole separation of Church and state thing-I'm very "Don't ask- Don't tell" when it comes to God.

Anyhoo, that being said, I picked up Women, Food, and God with some degree of trepidation, even though one of my most trusted sources in the world told me to pick it up.  Let me tell you, my faithful few, it rocked my freaking world! Seriously. Maybe you have read my previous posts about this book, but now that I'm finished with it, I think I may read it again and give it out as gifts until everyone I know has this book!

It has completely changed my idea of eating and food in general. I'm not saying that my brain is now perfectly clear and rainbows are as far as I can see, but I am telling you that I'm aware of shit now that I knew, but didn't realize effected me. And I also didn't know that anyone else felt the same way about themselves that I fet about myself. Woe Buddy!!

You see, this book doesn't tell you what to eat or how to eat; it makes you think about "Why" you are eating. Are you eating because you are hungry or because you are sad/angry/frustrated/overwhelmed/etc? Do you know? Can you tell the difference? I coudn't. At least I know after I do it now  I realize what I have done.

For example, at lunch, I stuffed food down my face quickly so I could get my kids situated with thier meals, drinks, napkins, and headed off to nap-time; I didn't realize until afterwards that I have no idea what I ate or even what it tasted like. I am only vaugly aware of the after-taste of mustard.) Why could I not have made the meal more pleasureable to all of us? Why did I have to be SO in control for the surroundings and trapping of "meal" that I was unaware of mine. Then, as all moms do, I found myself picking off of the kid's plates as I cleaned up...Hello!! Not hungry, McCarty! Why are you putting food in your mouth?!!!  Sease and disist!!! Unhand those fries!!!

These are the kind of things that are discussed in the book. Begining the moment instead of off somewhere else, hiding from something "unpleasant". I hide from unpleasant all the time, but I realized recently that I miss out on a whole lot of pleasant when I do that. Now I have a guide out of my hidey hole and into the world.

Although I said above the book doesn't tell you what or how to eat, it does give you 7 Guidelines and they are both simple common sense and incredibly difficult-all at the same time.

1. Eat when hungry. (What if you can't recongnize hungery from boredom or saddness or fear?)
2. Eat in a clam environment. (Piff, Dude, I have kids! What calm environment?)
3. Eat without distractions. (See Guideline 2)
4. Eat what your body wants. (It sounds great, but...dangerous)
5. Eat until you are satisfied. (See guideline 1)
6. Eat (with the intention of being) in full view of others. (See below!)
7. Eat with enjoyment. (Problem! I have never felt anything but guilt and disgust when I eat.)

Ok, Number 6 knocked the wind out of my body. I swear I didn't realize other people were as fucked up as I am. As far back as I can remember I have hated eating in front of people because I always "felt" their thoughts and judgments..."She SO shouldn't be eating that! Put down the food, big girl! A salad, yeah right! So, NOW we all know how you got that way!" (The book calls that The Voice. It sucks and I now know I can tell it to "fuck off". Yippy!)  I think I've eaten in a restraunt alone once and I took a book with me because I just HAD to block out the idea that people were watching me eat. The idea that I must be prepared to always eat in front of someone and never sneak a quick snack while no one is looking is terrifying. It breaks everything I have ever thought about eating down to the very core. Honestly, I'm scared.

But I also want to stop hiding. I want to feel every single emotion, even if it is unpleasant or unseeminly or messy. I want to know that I did truely "live deliberately... live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die Discover that I had not lived.” (Thoreau).

W, F, and G - Part 3

This book is kicking my butt! Seriously. For years I have felt these nameless feelings and never knew how to communicate them-how to give them a name. This thing has hit the proverbial nail on the head.

"Wanting what I wanted was not allowed. I needed to sacrifice, atone, make up for being myself."

"Diets are based on the unspoken fear that you are a madwoman, a food terrorists, lunatic. Eventually you will destroy all that you love and so you need to be stopped. The promise of a diet is not only that you will have a different body; it is that in having a different body, you will have a different life. If you hate yourself enough, you will love yourself. If you torture yourself enough, you will become a peaceful, relaxed person."

Luckily, it didn't hurt for long. It was just a little prick and then...calm. Actual calm.

I closed my eyes last night and drifted to sleep without a single ounce of stress or "Ican'tturnmybrainoff" tossing and turning. It was freaking great.

Who knew I could ever stop feeling bad and ashamed for being me...

I think it might just be possible. God, I hope so cause I'm pretty tired of it.

Taking Responsibility

It's been a year now. A year since my marriage ended and time that I identify and take responsibility for my role in what was a "pretty on the outside and ugly on the inside" marriage.

Don't get me wrong, I certainly don't think I caused this, but I do not think I necessarily helped either. You see I had a list. Yep, a list of things that would make a good boyfriend/husband. I thought I had hit some sort of weird jackpot because he met every requirement on that list; in addition to that, he met lists that weren't on the list also. I used my head...checked off my list and pushed in my chips. Done.

What I didn't do was hand over the keys to me. I held back a small piece of myself that, truthfully, I've hidden from everyone. hell, I'd almost forgotten it was there until recently.  So, while I was throwing every once of attention, support, and loyalty into my marriage I ultimately left out two major things...love and trust. Why? Well, suffice it to say, I never really intended anyone to get them. They are messy and more likely than not, will end up exploding in your face. I thought I was safer to keep part of myself back. (Gee, no wonder I was so ecstatically happy all the time.) No shit, I thought him loving me as much as he did would be enough to carry me through life. I didn't believe in fairy tales...they just didn't happen to girls like me.

Strangely enough, as most chicks in my situation, the divorced-single Mom favor, as anti-fairy tale- No longer believing in love or anything resembling it. Me? I finally do.

Isn't that both fucked up and hilarious?!

Just when I should be raging against love, I finally think I'd like to try it. Why? I feel like I was saved from my life because something better was planned for me. I guess I prayed hard enough to God, The Universe, and every other Deity in the world that they collectively decided to give me what I least expected...happiness.

Now, I have found this happiness and love? Nope. Will I find this happiness and love? Truthfully, I don't know. I think I will, but I now know that nothing is certain in life. However, I think the greatest gift I've been given is the  realization that I short-changed myself and my ex-husband, and for that I am sorry. But I have the opportunity to make it up to myself and actually be willing to accept and give love. Will I go searching under every rock until I come find it? Will I create a page long list of requirements that this imaginary man must reach? Nope. I'm good. I did that the last time remember? I have totally learned my lesson.

Love will come to me when it does. When I have made my peace with myself, with my life, with those around me, with The Universe. How do I know this?

Because I deserve it AND because I now believe in fairy tales.

And I'm proud to say that that is the first time I have EVER been able to say that in my entire life.

W, F, and G - Part 2

Holy crap!

Just when I thought it'd be OK and I'd get through the rest of the book with out a hitch...WRONG!

I feel like a silly emo kid reading The Bell Jar or Catcher in the Rye for the first time because I want to break out my pencil and underline passages and make notes in the margines.

"Dieting was like praying. It was a plainative cry to whomever was listening: I know i am fat. I know I am ugly. I know I am undiscliplined, but see how hard I try. See how violently I restrict myself, deprive myself, punish myself. Surely there must be a reward for those who know how horrible they are. "

And that was the passage that almost made me throw up...but I continued on...

"And precisely because dieting and binging were the main ways I was expressing my despair, the consequences of not dieting or binging were staggering...like breaking a vow that was never supposed to be broken."

Moving from wanting to throw up to wanting to cry. Progress? Maybe or maybe not, I'll just have to see.

Women, Food, and God - Part 1

I have begun, for a second time, reading a book titled Women, Food, and God.  It was recommended to me by Sharon Ladner (For those that do not know of her, I'm sure there will be a future post on her; She's SUPER FAB!) and I decided I should read it. (Basically, if she told me that reading the phone book every night I would give it a go.)

I was blindsided by the prologue...the freaking prologue, guys, which talks about who needs to read the book. It didn't bode well for me, so I had to put the book down and regroup. Now, I'm back to work on reading it again and I did have to go back over what knocked the air out of me the first time so I could move on...

Page 17, paragraph above the break still gets to me, but I must move past it so I can move past it.

...that being alone means being lonely. If feeling your feelings means being destroyed. If being vulnerable is for sissies or if opening to love is a big mistake...

Even writing this down makes a hard ball form in my tummy-A ball made of fear and regret. Fear because I know I have to deal and I'm not sure how. Regret because I know that's the part of my failed marriage and divorce that was my fault. (I won't be going into that particular story on this post. I think it deserves it's own post.)

I will keep all of you faithful few updated on my progress and anything else that scares me along the way. I'm determined to finish it and to use this blog to mull out the scary bits with all of you...

New Hair

I've been thinking about cutting my hair off. Actually, I've been considering it for a while, but thought my face was too ROUND.

Now I have check bones again-not enough of them for my taste, but enough that I'm way not so round. Anyway, I'm thining of something piecy, funky, cool, cute, and short. WHY? Well, my hair has ZERO texture and it is super thick....do you know what that means? It doesn't do anything. At all. Nothing.  

It's too thick and heavy to hold curl; however, it is too texturally fine to took lusterous when long becuase it constatnly needs to be brushed and starts to look thin. It just hangs limp. Do you KNOW what it takes to make hair as think as mine look thin?

I've taken stock of my last month of hair-dos and realized that I pull it back every single day. Every day!! it hangs in my face and bothers me enough to even wear it up to the store and church. I kept it chin-length and angled becuase my mom told me it woud look better, but I'm just not sure I want to keep it there. I really, really, really think I want it short.

So, here are the pics I'm considering...I'll probably take pieces and parts of different ones and talk with my hair dresser.

So, I'm noticing that they are ALL really similar...Yeah I think next week is the week!

Thought of the Day

The thought manifests as the word. Word manifests as the deed. Deed develops into habit. Habit develops into character.   Buddha

Further Evidence of my Crazy

So my crazy is evident once again. my brain has been stuck in a constant loop of day dreams, even when I can't write them down and I gotta tell ya, my make-believe world is way more interesting than reality.

Just the slightest hint of anything sends my mind off in search of all kinds of "what could be" situations. Maybe this will happen? What if this happens instead? This would be so cool!

Sigh

Then I remember, "Oh yeah, that's not really happening." Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

Why I bother?

So I made a fatal mistake once again, faithful few, I tried to explain myself and reach out for support. I'm a dumb-ass and a glutton for punishment-Maybe I'm a masochist? All I really know for a fact is that I am completely insane...I keep doing the same exact thing and expecting a different response. *sigh* I used to be so smart....

Whether the whole "no life, no job, few prospects, and getting shitty grades on my Pop's grammar quizzes" thing is catching up to me or perhaps its just PMS, but I melted down today. OK, truthfully, I think it's all of the above. But I absolutely hate melting down in front of people, especially when it's in front of a certainwomanwhosharesDNAwithme. WHY? Frankly, because she doesn't get it or me so while Pop always made the joke about finding sympathy between shit and syphilis in the dictionary, SHE really believes it obviously because that's about as much as I ever get from her.

With tears running down my face I'm talking about my struggle and frustration about finding a job (and being rejected at each turn) and my fear of not being able to support the 3 of us on a teacher's salary. What do I get? "Well, we tried to tell you that when you said you wanted to be a teacher?" FUCKING REALLY?!

Never in a million fucking years would I EVER say that to Cait or T!! EVER! But she said she's just trying to be on the "up and up" with me. Okey Dokey! Thanks. How about some support? How about not saying shit? How about listening? How about not passing fucking judgment on me for just one damn day? I think that would be just peachy!! Thanks.

I'm thinking that if I stay here much longer one of us will need to up our dosage of Lexapro, seriously!  Why on Earth do I even bother...

Sick and Tired

I am So freaking sick and fucking tired of filling out applications. Seriously. I'm over it. I am in a constant state of applying for jobs, crossing my fingers, getting rejections letters, and applying for something else.  I'm just sick to death of this shit.

When I became a teacher it was under the understanding that teachers were always needed. Umm, lie! At this point I probably couldn't get a job in the Delta right now. I feel like a pariah or something on the coast and I'm not seeing anything further up. Grr!!!!

And just for the record, filling out teacher applications is different from any other, run-of-the-mill application. You have to basically write down everything in the whole world, or maybe it just seems like a lot since I've worked in so many different fucking schools. (Thanks asshole.)

Maybe I'll take a break from the search, even if it does make me feel like a complete loser to sit at my parents home with my kids and my little part time job. I have totally given up writing in the search for a job of some kind, so maybe I should give up the search and go back to writing.

I know I should be patient, but I really feel like my life is on hold-shelved until further notice with no real way out. This that I have now is a partial life because while I live here I feel like and am treated like a teenager (at least my mom does, my Dad realizes I am an adult and the two moneys in the back are my kids.). I mean, I am constantly surrounded without a moment of alone and quiet. I don't feel like I am able to go anywhere or do anything-with or without the kids. I write and there's either a head hanging over me, reading, or a burning look which accuses me other terrible things. Sigh...

I just want to feel like my life is my own. Like my kids and I can get back to our little groove in the world. We had a good thing going in Hattiesburg, but now the idea of the Burg doesn't feel like home anymore. Trouble is I don't know what WILL feel like home. The Coast isn't home. The Burg isn't home. What IS home? I guess I can make anything home that I want to be home, but I'm not quite sure where that will be. Perhaps home is where I will find a job, but what if I don't find a job?! What if I'm stuck here another year?!

Another year of doing nothing, going nowhere, feeling stuck, feeling squished, and wishing my life would start again.

Willing Ex

A friend of mine posted a movie poster on FB of The Expendables (I think that's what it was) which is an uber-guy, bang-bang-shootemup movie coming out in August. I was curious enough to at least SEE what the silly thing was about when I found myself staring at this beautiful man I'd love to be my next ex...Jason Statham. 

OMG, he's just SOOOO yummy!  I have no clue what exactly makes him sooo appealing to me. Is it the rough and tumble exterior that hints at a soft, dreamy inside? Mischievous twinkle in his eyes? hard, but not overly muscled body? The super sexy accent? (Humm, yeah, the accent is a REALLY big part of it.)

If anyone out there knows of a similar specimen please let me know because I'm totally game.

Needs.

Ahhhhhh...the joys of the slightly employed single mother.



I'm So in need of time in a quiet spot with nothing going on around me. I don't even want Internet, but I do want my phone to work because I'm addicted to Pandora. But other than that I want NO distractions, which may be distracting in itself, but I'm willing to chance it.

I have SO much swirling around my brain it's starting to get painful and overwhelming, but starting something and then having to stop every 5 minutes to break up a fight or refill a sippy cups is giving me creative blue balls-not life threatening, but damned uncomfortable.

I just feel that if I could finish one- just one- that the others would fall into place much easier, basically because I'd have more confidence that I could actually finish something.

Another blog that I follow, Confessions of the Unpublished, has announced a writing challenge-50,000 in 50 days. Fifty days of writing at least 1000 words. In a row. The words AND the days. I want to do it, but I'm afraid that my already semi-sleepless nights will get even more sleepless. When in the hell will I find the time to write 1000 words a day? How in the hell can I keep my brain going in any sort of creative direction for 50 days? 50 days is forever! It's crazy time! It's so completely doable that I think I could do it and I hope I don't end up talking myself out of it.

It sounds scary, and I also think that's why I need to do it. It's big and scary. It's nothing I've ever done before. AAKKKK! AaahhhhOOoohhhhShtiiiiittt! 

I'm going to need your love and support, faithful few, and possibly a few kicks in the ass to get me across that 50,000 word mark. Let the fun begin!

The Past Year

Today is May 17th.

In two days, it will be May 19th.

Three Hundred and Sixty-Three days since "that day".

Since that day was so amazingly life changing, I thought I'd reflect on just what these past 363 days have done both TO me and FOR me. 

• It tested my skills as a Mother. Before I have loads of help and support, even if that was just because I was always told I wasn't a very good mother, but the fact remains that I flitted through the first years of my children's lives with minimal fuss or muss and always had the opportunity to "pass off" any disagreeable jobs. Now I have me. Don't get me wrong, when I'm at the end of my rope my parents are right there to boost me back up, but it's still just me. While my kids are fairly well behaved (most days), they are not always angels or quiet or still. However, they say "ma'am" and "sir" and I think that is something special. The rest is nothing that will make them delinquents later in life, so I'm OK with my wild youngins.
• It helped me reestablish Jamie. I didn't realize I had lost her until I no longer had another person demanding I devote every spare second of thought and molecule of energy on him. The first time someone made me laugh I realized that I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a reason to laugh let alone just let loose and laughed. I had been SO wound up in trying desperately try to fix what I knew was broken and dying-just so focused in trying to make HIM happy somehow-that I forgot that MY feelings and MY happiness were never even considered. I dressed how HE wanted me to dress. Did my hair how HE preferred it done. Cooked what HE liked to eat. Went places that HE wanted to go (For any unaware, those are only places that serve beer, which is why I haven't been to the movies in years.) I deferred everything him because he was the one that was emotionally erratic and seemly dissatisfied with anything involving being an adult. (home, family, responsibility, job, etc.) MY wants, needs, desires, feelings, thoughts, opinions, likes, dislikes, tastes were pushed aside by me, at the same time they were deemed unimportant by him.  SO, these past 363 days I have gotten to unpack my wants, needs, desires, feelings, thoughts, opinions, likes, dislikes, tastes and dust them off from seven years of disuse. It's been eye-opening to spend bits of time rustling through all of it; I really am nothing now like the person I was then. I feel I should reintroduce myself to those who only know me from that time. Hell, no wonder I was "encouraged" to not see or contact my old friends or family members. You guys, wouldn't have recognized me! I was kinda like the Zombie version of Jamie or submissive Barbie Jamie. NO good! The BIGGEST thing I've found I like...is ME!!!
• It allowed me the opportunity to re find my dreams. Once upon a time I wrote silly stories and poems as they popped into my brain. I've always referred to it as an itchy feeling in my brain and the only relief I get from that feeling is to write out the itch. (I really thought I was crazy until my Dad told me the the exact same thing happens to him-down to describing it as an itch. Wild.) I even remember writing "Write a novel" on my 25 Things to Do list I made in Mrs. Ladner's Oral Communications class my Senior year. Unfortunately, I married someone who people thought was creative, but wasn't. In fact, he was always jealous of it. Between that jealousy and my personal deprivation, my itches gradually dwindled into oblivion. Gone. Nada. Nothing. I wanted them, but could not conjure up the simplest idea, let alone flesh anything out. I felt empty-drained of what I can only describe as a twinkle.  Strangely enough, when the initial haze of disbelief cleared it all came back to me. And let me just say, it freaking FLOODED my brain. I started this blog to help with the overflow of ideas, but I think there are no less than nine different folders on my computers containing, what I believe are good idea and snippets of research. Now I'm just wondering how I will ever get everything written with all the free time I have...buahahahahahaha. I'm just glad to have it back.
• It brought me back into the fold of my family and friends. You see, he wasn't a fan of anyone HE didn't personally bring into our circle of friends. If they were my friends first there was always something wrong with them. Except my Theta Sisters, he knew better than to talk shit about them; it was just friends I tried to make after we were married. this past year has definitely taught me who my real friends are and who really loves me. I mean, actions speak louder than words and I got the intended message loud and clear from a few I thought were buddies of mine.

I think the most important lesson I've learned is that I am way more capable, talented, beautiful, intelligent, and amazing than I thought I could ever be...and All I really did to accomplish it was get shed of a husband. Who knew?!

New Project

It may not be the best idea in the world, but I've decided to reopen my personal can of worms and relive it. Why? Well, truthfully, because I don't think I really lived it while it was happening. I really did shut down and put on my best smile. Why? Well, because that is what I was always taught to do. Being overly emotional has always been a huge sign of weakness to my mom. She just doesn't tolerate it well. Anger is an acceptable emotion, but not really an other one. If you show a great amount of emotion people know what makes you tick and can therefore have control or power over you. No Good!

So, I'm going to branch out and not stick my toes in, but jump head first into treacherous waters of *gasp* messy emotions. I'm going to relive every single heart-wrenching moment for a series of epistles which chronicle the past year called Letters You Will Never Read. Now this project will probably never be published, but I think it will be a very cathartic work that will work out the residual muck I have lodged inside myself.

I feel it all rattling around inside and have decided it doesn't deserve to have me for a host. As my body shrinks, I need to make sure my self esteem increases in the same ratio or I will be forever trapped in my Divorced, Fat Girl Mentality. I'm just not going to live that way. Not anymore. Period.

So, I guess in short, I'm going to be bitchy and grouchy and touchy and sad and ill and probably quite unbearable for a few weeks-or as long as it takes me to finish it.

After that I'll decided what to do with it.

Amazing Toes

I just wanted to let the world know that I totally amazed myself today at the gym. I was stretching on the stretch jungle gym after my workout. My leg was up on the bar and I realized that I was leaning all the way down with my hands on the bottom of my shoe. WHA? Holy shit for reals?!! I haven't been able to do that for...well, for forever. Ok, maybe not forever, but for a pretty good clip of time.

What an accomplishment. Go me!! I totally heart Curves!

sentences

the inevitable happened today-he was sentenced. (actually it was yesterday, but i just got the news today.) anyway, when i first read the newspaper article, i felt nothing. it was just a fact that i read in the paper.

25 years. will serve 15. 5 years probation.

then the knot developed in my stomach. i tried to ignore it because, why should i be upset? everything is finally over. final. finished. done.

but i think it's the feeling that it was all really real. it actually happened. he really did all of this to us. i won't wake up and have it be a really fucked up dream. damn.

maybe when i wake up, i'll feel better...

leaks, drains, and gushes

Most days I easily locate the positivity leak and plug it up before any seeps out. Hell, there are even days where I have no leaks at all and I'm just a ray of fucking sunshine all damn day...

Not today. Today, by the time I realized I was loosing  joy the damn opened and the entire allotment I had been saving up over days of hording each precious drop drained from my body. It didn't even pool at my feet so I could possibly soak so of it back up. Nope, it just disappeared. I really hate days like today.

On these days, I seem to have nothing go right and my mood is already SO subterranean that I engage in bouts of self-flagellation. Why make another day bad. Let's just push all the shit that will make me feel bad all into one lousy fucking day. Does it make me feel better? Well, no, but sometimes feeling pain is better than feeling nothing at all...

disconcerting...

Much to my chagrin Toddlers and Tiaras is back on the air for a new season. Oh, yeah, I'm so excited...really. I tried to watch one episode and I lasted all of 10 minutes before the nausea took over and prompted me to turn the channel before I ruined my Mom's rug.

It was sick and twisted and sad. I didn't even know who I felt the worst for: the children who were fluffed and teased into a beauty box or the parents who suffered abuse from the hands of the very monsters they created.

While I am personally convinced that my children are cuter than almost all children featured on TV or in magazines, there is no way I would subject them to that bullshit.  I mean, the girls, little girls, are made up and dressed like prostitutes and then prance around shaking things they do not have like strippers. Is that really the best thing to teach a little girl?  I think my Cait could win without anything other than chapstick (She always wants some when I apply mine.) And if Caitlin ever wanted to participate and asked me "Please" I would allow her to, but she damn sure wouldn't look like the other slutlettes; she would look like the sweet and beautiful little girl she is.

And has anyone noticed that a majority of the moms are just not all that cute? Can you say over-compensation?  Maybe I don't feel the need to doll Cait up because I think I'm already cute and I also think she's cute...as is. While I am making damn sure she has a solid self image and I love that she looks in the mirror and says, "pretty" she also will know she has great value and worth beyond the fact that she's cute. I also want her to realize she, in no way, must fulfill my personal wishes for her life. So many parents relive out their own lives through their children. Mom doesn't feel beautiful and popular so her daughter must be everything she never was...hummm, well that sounds like it'll work.

I wonder how often that backfires? The dad that MUST have the football star son and gets a poet. The Mom has MUST have the beauty queen and end up with a tomboy. As for me, I just want healthy, well adjusted kids that know their worth and respect differences. However, if T wants to be a cheerleader and Cait wants to be the next Mia Hamm, I'm all about it! Would I prefer a certain life for the kids? Yeah, I have ideas. For example, I'd like for my kids to not be teachers. Why? So, they can make more money for less stress and aggravation, especially since it seems they will be paying off my student loans.
The whole "I never got to...so my child will" attitude is just not so healthy. It focuses way too much on negative things. I mean, even my folks have it a little bit, but even though there's was making sure we always had gifts for birthday and Christmas, it still focused on negative events of their own childhoods. Hell, we would have never noticed if we hadn't had the things we had.

It's just so sad to do that to kids. I mean, I'm finding it easy enough to screw up with my kids and probably scar them for life without pushing all my personal baggage on them.  *sigh* Now, that would be a tragedy!

Things That Piss Me Off

I thought I'd let loose a bit of anger and frustration today...

• I have to color my hair today and I'm only a week when I should have done it. I'm not pissed so much that I haven't done it yet, I'm pissed that I have to do it. I mean, I have my Mom color all my WHITE hair while she gets to dance around in her natural, greyless hair color. Talk about some shit!
• I'm having huge bouts of insomnia again. Grrrrr!
• This whole, spinning wheels, unsure where to go or what I'm going to do is pretty much completely in opposition to how I prefer to live my life. I just need some sort of direction, preferably in the form of a job offer, so I can begin making plans again.
• Why is it that some people are continuously allergic to telling the truth. Seriously!?!
• It really does annoy me that Sweet Mamma was right about a Leopard never changing its spots. I keep trying to believe the best in people, but I'll be damned if they keep letting me down. I guess I'll never learn either; it's just sad that I have to learn that lesson.
• My ex STILL hasn't had any sort of court date to put him anywhere other than county jail, which means I STILL haven't gotten my computer back. So, the fucking thing is now a year old and I only used it for 2 months. Pictures of my children are on it. I want it!
• Now, I just wish my life were a Lifetime movie; it's too boring to be on TV at all now. 
• I'm alone, but surrounded by people. I really hate being lonely. I really hate being surrounded. *sigh* I'm bored.
• My life is on hold and it really, really, really pisses me off.  

ego, er, ergo...

Each day seems to bring me a new query. Is it possible to have SO many questions swirling around ones head without absolutely going crazy?

Ideas? Plans? Questions? Oh MY!

It just doesn't seem like I'm getting anything done. I step forward and four steps back. Applications out...and then I wait. And wait. And wait. Just to be told, "Nah, that's ok." Sigh...

So, I also found a cool sounding MFA program; it's online with the exception of two week long residencies a year (Spring and Fall). It would take 3 years.(Damn, that sounds like a long-ass time!) And it is specifically designed to help students write a novel that would be published at the end of the program. It sounded SO good and like so much fun until 3 little things popped into my brain:

1. It is not possible for me to leave my kids for two weeks a year to gallivant in PA, even if it is for classes.
2. Holy shit, people would have to read my writing and they would find out quickly that I am a total writing impostor.
3. I just am not sure I write well enough to actually do it, let alone survive it. (Maybe it's just because I've been reading Lauren Willig and she's So good and SO smart. My writing feels a little unsophisticated and common next to her writing.)

Even when my family members get excited about my writing I still feel the need to say, "Really? You really like it? Really?" That's probably the area of life that leaves me the most nervous and feel the most vulnerable. I can't figure out why, I mean, it's only the only complete openness-your heart and soul filleted open like catfish, guts and gore hanging out so the entire Universe can count my ribs and see the muck built up inside. But, who knows...(Me, overly dramatic? Nah.)

I believe I am in serious need for an ego boost - sometimes. See, I can't even say definitively that's what I need. Somedays I feel great and others I'm total despair. Ok, so maybe not despair, but kinda low.

It's hard not to think of all the things that have gone "in opposition of my desires" in the past year and wonder exactly what will go my way.

It would be so nice to have a sweet little cottage somewhere. Just me and the babies, hanging out and enjoying our little lives. Nothing huge. Nothing special. Just quiet and unassuming. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I DO want lots of stuff in my quiet and unassuming life, but not right now. I'm good with calm for now...excitement can wait for the future. I think I just want something to happen so I'll stop feeling like I'm running on a hamster wheel-never getting anywhere but wearing my damn fool self out doing it.

I think I need a vacation from reality...Who wants me first?!  

Straight Poop

I am constantly amused by the constant conversations about poop that my son and I have. In fact, we seem to discuss bodily functions a lot. And not just his or mine, but those of dolls (I had no idea until recently that stuffed puppies poop outside when they are big boys.), family members, and other random people that he sees. My son is SO astute that he can accurately pick out those who poop in their underwear and those who poop in the potty-even walking through the mall or WalMart. And he does. Often!

I guess I'm in for a lifetime of boy talk about bodily functions...

Help.

Musings about children...

While reading the random blog posts by my fellow single moms I came across one woman who spoke about a date she had a few months ago. After a great, romantic date, he kissed her and whispered, "You'd be perfect if you didn't have kids." Wha?! WTF?!! Really?  The woman was understandable upset by this declaration, but the guys just didn't understand why she was so angry. Again, WTF??

It's not like he just told her that he wasn't a fan or her wall color or suggested her favorite lipstick wasn't as flattering as she thought it was. He literally just told her that the only flaw she contained were the beings she created, carried in her body for 10 months, nursed, diapered, burped, and rocked to sleep for years. That's like someone telling me they can't be with me because I have crooked fingers and tiny toes-those things are just as much a part of my as my children.

I mean, how do you respond to that, other than a swift bitch-slap across the face?! Is there a single word or utterance that can possibly explain the full range of emotions a comment that insensitive brings? Somehow "Fuck you" just doesn't seem to be enough, but I'm not sure that anything would properly express my feelings.

Now, do not get me wrong, my babies say "please" and "thank you" and can be the sweetest, most loving darlings in the entire known world. However, I refer to my chirens as Thing 1 and Thing 2 for reasons that are not hard for anyone to figure out. After all they are preschoolers that are 22 months apart-the oldest not even 4. While they have heard the words "quiet" and "still", they have no real concept of their meanings. I have told them several times that if they weren't so cute people really would hate them everywhere we go; it's bad enough pretty much everyone who has ever been in a store with us could tell you my children's names. They are really cute though.

I have to admit that THAT exact comment is what scares me about this whole single mom thing. What if the man that is perfect for them just doesn't light my fire. I don't particularly want a replay of the whole "I'm married so my kids have a family" episode, but I really would like for them to have a daddy that isn't mine. I don't think that's too much to ask, but it's a hell of a responsibility to thrust on someone's shoulders.

Is it too much to ask? Is it too much to look for that someone will love those two smaller pieces of me as much as they love me? I think it is, but I also think that I'll run into several road blocks before I find my way.

It's a good think that I like adventures...