Why I Hate Alabama

Now the title may be a  bit inflammatory, but I seriously DO have an intense dislike of Alabama right now. I do apologize to anyone who lives there, was born there, knows someone from there, or generally likes anything in the general direction of that state-several people in that state have earned my ire and therefore the entire state is on notice!

Notice I tell you!!!!!!!!!!!

Lets start at the beginning...This has all happened since December:

1- Marco got his first ever speeding ticket in Alabama coming to visit me.

2- I got MY first ever speeding ticket coming home from my sister's house.

3- We were stopped at a random roadblock on a back road at 10:00 at night and the cop acted like a total ass to Marco. "Son, you been drinking?" Really? Plus shined the flashlight in the car and almost woke up the kids and took his SWEET time in clearing us through. I guess he expected to find a van load of illegals or something. I half expected him to ask for Marco's papers or some shit. Really, dude?  

4- Yesterday we went to get our marriage license in Dothan. Let me tell you guys something, these people have the stupidest working hours known to man! (and that's another story, I guess.) Anyway, The broad behind the counter was obviously not a fan of brown people (or perhaps just her job in general) because she was all about evil-eyeing us the whole time...but it got worse when Marco opened his mouth. You see, I never notice his accent until we are around people who give him "that look" when they hear his accent. So, between the accent and his social security card, which states he is here for work purposes only, she did NOT warm up to the happy couple. I mean, she still looked at him like his paperwork was fake or something. THEN, she notices his Pink Floyd short and says, "What do you know about Pink Floyd anyway or are you just wearing the shirt?" He simply smiled and said, "Well, I certainly know several songs of theirs, but I also liked the shirt."(God, he is so easy going and polite!) I, on the other hand, was FUMING, people! Fuming! Just who in the name of hell did she think she was to say anything like that?! Just when I thought it could get no worse, she decided to be an ignorant bitch about the name on the marriage license. I even explained that in Latin culture the Father's name is used and then the Mother's maiden name is added at the end; however the "last name"is still the Father's name. Nope, "According to the social security card, the first name listed is the first name and the last name listed in the last name. I can capitalize both names, but you will end up with both names when you go change your name." I think she really enjoyed that. Stupid bitch. Even a the bank, which everyone knows is super careful about names, dropped the "mother's name" for him since it tended to cause issues and just generally be super long on checks. She had a nice little half smile/smirk on her face when she said it too. Grr, what a bitch. What she may NOT know it that the last time I changed my name I literally got the option of choosing what name went where as well as what was kept and what was discarded. I guess she thought it was my penance for marrying a foreigner...I'm sure in her head she said Mexican because all brown people are Mexican, right?!  I'm also sure she went home to her rednecky friends and family had they sat around bitching about those damn Mexicans who are "stealing our jobs" and NOW our women. Sigh... Anyway, to top the whole experience with a cherry, they do NOT mail the certified copies; so, to receive a copy of my marriage license and change my name to the super-long-craziness she thinks she has saddled me with, I have to drive BACK to DothanfuckingAlabama to see that fat bitch once again. Oh. Happy. Day.

As an addendum, I will say that not all people in Alabama are like that because we had a wonderful waitress for dinner right after who even replied in Spanish to Tristan when he told her, "Gracias." However, I stand beside my statement, which was made as we left the licensing office, "We will never live in Alabama!" 

Sorry, Bama, you lost five knew potential residents due to the arrogance and the racism of many of your residents.      

Long, Wild, Crazy Ride

I realized a few minutes ago that, while today has a special significance for being Father's Day, it also bares a slightly stronger significance for my own life...two years ago today I though my world was completely over.

I thought there was no way I would ever recover from the feeling of betrayal that enveloped me like a large woman crushing me against her chest-hot, suffacating, and wholey unwelcome. 

 I never thought to ever have another Father's Day go by without acutly feeling what I had lost for my children, namely a Father of their very own. Yes, I said what I had lost them.

You see, although I had been miserable for longer than I dare even admit, I felt it was my duty to my children to keep the family together because it was not their fault that I was unhappy. He seems contented enough and the children were happy enough. I accepted that obviously it was just my own problem that I was desperately unhappy and unsatisfied with my lot in life. Why should I shake up my babies' lives for soemthing that was purely me?

After the insident in question, I spent some time contemplating how I was too blame for it. That obviously my dissatisfacion in my marriage caused me to become a sub-par wife and lead him down a path which lead directly to adultery...Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.  

I do, in fact, take respoinsibility for my failings in my first marriage, because I did certianly have some, but I no longer take total responsibility. I have not for some time actually. Thankfully.

However, it does color my current relationship some, as I'm sure MAT's failed relationship with his son's mom colors his time with me. Again, thankfully, it colors it in the best way possible because we have learned to appricate the good things and call out the questionsable things early.

While I have always felt blessed to have such a wonderful Dad, I can now say that my children are equally blessed becuase this man who has inherited the title to Dad takes it very seriously. He is everythig I could want in ta Father for them and loves them completely and eats up each time the call him "Dad" and each time they proudly use a Spanish word.

My world that so easily shattered two years ago, has risen like a Phoenix and it now as it should be...full of love, laughter, and family.

Me Worried?

I finally got the call I've been waiting for. The call that offers me an interview for a job in Florida.

Oh happy day!!!!!!!!!!!

Marco says he is officially taping his fingers crossed for me.

Now because he is desperate for me to have a job or thought I wouldn't get one, but because he knows I am willing and read to work any particular job to help our little (five isn't so little is it?) family and prefers that I get to actually DO what it is that I love and went to school to do. 

What a sweet man.

I can't wait to be in Florida again. I can't wait to sweat in the park while playing with my kids, dance around the kitchen while cooking dinner for my family, and curled up on the couch with the arms of the man I love wrapped around me and my head on his chest. It really IS the perfect way to spend an evening.

My favorite way to spend an evening...Or an afternoon...Or any time in between.

It's time to go home.

Living in Paradise

So last week I made the first portion of "the move" this past weekend.

It has been a week and I can safely say that I have never felt more relaxed, or at least I don't remember a time when I was more relax and comfy. I really tought there would be a big adjustment period or that perhaps he would change his mind after living with us.

As it turns out, he is even more amazing than I knew. Because of his calm nature and the fact he is a phenom Dad, my kids are sleeping in their beds each night without complaint AND taking naps each afternoon. (Who are these kids and where did mine go. I don't really want them back, I just want to keep tabs on the little critters.)

There have been so many times when I have fought bursting into tears. Not because I'm sad, but because I can't believe I am so lucky. My kids are curling up with him and calling him Daddy (or Popi thanks to Dora) and his son is calling me Mom. Just thinking about them all running around on the pitch running and kicking the soccer ball around brings tears to my eyes right now. It's so natural and so amazing...there are no words, guys. There just aren't.

Anyway, I have to admit that it's going so well, the dark part of my brain has begun to try to sabotage me. At night, as this beautiful man is cuddled up next to me, holding my hand in his sleep, it begins to whisper, "Are you kidding me? How can this man, who is so sweet and patient and caring (not to mention hawt!) actually be in love with you? Do you remember being married to the "good enough"guy that decided that sex with other people was perfectly ok? What are you thinking girl?!"

Now I am lucky enough to be able to discuss this with people who can smack the darkness out of my head and then there is the lightness I feel when I tell MAT my fears. Having gone through a nasty break up with D's mom he understands, but there is something about being Colombian that makes me take things in stride and not dwell on the darkness in life. Ok, it might be genetic, but I still think it might be cultural.

I am determined to take each day and appreciate the hell out of it. 

Mi Amorcito

When I first saw this man back in October, I remember thinking that there was no way in hell he'd ever be actually interested in me. Just no damn way, people.  He's almost three years younger with three percent body fat and totally yummy. (I mean the accent alone, guys!) What in hell can I offer this man?!?!

Obviously a lot as it turns out because he has chosen me. Shut the Front DooR!!!

And better than that...he is all about me begin as girly as I absolutely want to be. In fact, he encourages me to get my nails done. I asked him if he thought it was a stupid expense and he replied, "Are you going to get them redone every 3 days?"

"Well, no; that's just silly."

"Then there is nothing wrong with you needing to get your nails done. It makes you feel good."

Sorry girls, he's all mine.

He is encouraging my weight loss and reminding me to eat (he used to check that I ate breakfast every day until it became a habit), but not because I'm big; because, "The kids and I need you around a long time, baby." I must say it's easy to eat well around him because he eats so well. Fruit, vegetables, rice, protien, smoothies...he likes good fod, but it isn't a NEED for him. Food fuels his body; it's not something he lives for.

Hummm...What a novel concept.

Actually, he asked me what I thought the other day because he was afraid he is getting too skinny. I told him that I would fatten him up soon enough with some good Southern cooking, but I wouldn't change a single thing about him. I have seriously never thought hip bones were sexy on a man until recently. Wow. Really.

Anyhoooooooo....

I feel myself blossoming under his light. I can remember once liking the feeling of being girly and feminine, but I stopped because it became passe'. I love the feeling of wearing dresses and feeling pretty...and I do. Where a majority of my life I always felt my weight (regardless of what I weighed) and felt awkward in pretty clothes because I didn't think I was pretty enough to wear pretty clothes.

For some reason I thought that pretty clothes highlighted my lack of pretty by drawing attention to myself instead of helping me become prettier. I know I'm not crazy and other people have felt the same way...right?

Now, as I stand beside him, I feel like the most beautiful girl in the room. Seriously. I do not notice who is prettier or skinnier or has a cuter outfit; I just focus on us and how good I feel around him. It's like the huge mountain of uncertainty disapears and I can finally relax into my skin. I have more fun. I smile more. I laugh more. I stress less. I fidget less. (This is HUGE in itself!) And all of these things are felt both with and without kids. I am as relaxed with all 3 kids as I am with just us 2. He just lets me be me and really loves it.

My cousin commented months ago that it was true love becasue I said I felt skinny around him. It's true. I do. I'm am never self conscious of my weight around him and when I've said I could wear something I've seen in a store window he has just looked at me oddly and said, "Why?" Like the fact that I'm probably around 70 pounds overweight has never really occured to him.

God, I love that Latin men like women with meat on their bones. Because while I may never lose all of this 70 pounds (even though I'm really trying and it's decreasing sssslllowllllyyyyyyy), he will still think I'm just as beautiful at a smaller size as he does right now. I mean...I'm going to get nothing but better!

Hell, I may be freaking impossible to live with by the time I lose a bit more weight. 


For example, I bought a dress on a whim. I thought it was pretty, but I would have NEVER even attempted to wear at any other time in my life...even when I was in college! But I bought this cute, lilac colored, strapless dress with ruffled tiers. (see below)

 I wore it out the other night with a little black shrug and wedge heels with black flowers onteh strapes and his eyes bugged out of his head. "Baby, this dress this dress!!! You look georgous!! Where did you get this dress!"

Don't ask me what anyone else was wearing that night. And don't bother asking his what anyone else was wearing because he proudly held onto me the entire night. I felt like a queen. I fetl like no one has ever made me feel before...I felt like my Pop finally wasn't full of total shit for the past 33 years...I felt beautiful.

Holy shit...I guess I am beautiful after all.  :)

Slacker City (A Rewind Post from Feb)

So, I realize that I have not posted anything for so long that I'm betting everyone not immediately related to me might that thought I was either dead or had just fallen off of the planet. No such luck, my FF.  :)


Actually, I was pretty sick all last week and was without the energy to do much of anything. But inspite of feeling all sinusey and yuk, both weekends attached to that week were absolutly, amazingly, undeniable wonderful. Seriously!


Hummmm, where to start? Umm, maybe the beginning, right? Ok, at the beginning.


The kids and I met my beautiful Colombian and his cutie pie son at the Explorium in Mobile for a day of fun and bugs. It was blissfully wonderful. We all played and checked out bugs and bodies. The kids played in the special "kiddie" area and he and I talked and held hands.  (Ok, there was a bit of kissing and hugging going on too, but it was entirely appropriate. And even if it hadn't been I'd like someone to tell me to keep my hands off that man; he is too Delicious. Just saying. Thankfully, he seems to have the same problem with me too. )  Anyway, the only bad part of the whole day was actually not having enough time with one another. I just hate to have to get in the car and drive in the opposite direction of that man. I really do.


At one point during the day, I ended up with D in my arms (because he TOTALLY reached for me) and MAT ended up holding Cait. So, I pose the question? What is sexier than watching him do the whole great day thing with his own baby? Doing it with mine, people. Ah, Dios mio.


As he kissed me goodbye (whoa baby! talk about Dios Mio!), I began to wonder what Valentine's would be like. Actually, let's be real for a minute, folks, I started wondering what it would be like to not have to drive away. Yep, that's right people, I was dis-tract-ed all the way home.


To read his chats (Yes, we gchat randomly throughout the work day, what?! Like you don't.) you'd think I was the most amazing woman in the entire world. I am constantly showered with words like: beautiful, sweet, wonderful, perfect, gorgeous, etc, etc, etc...

Just a bit late

So, my first "blogaversary" has come and gone with absolutely no fanfare because, to be honest, I forgot. Oops!

I know that I have been absent for a very long time, but there has been SO much to tell that I had no way to actually tell any of you what is happening. Why?

Because I was afraid it would slip through my fingers before I actually had time to wrap my brain around it all. 

I reread my first post and I'm amazed at the changes that have happened in just one year. http://jamieccouncil-findingbliss.blogspot.com/2010/03/once-upon-time-there-was-little-girl.html

The biggest changes?

ONE: I'm happy. I'm happy when I wake up. I'm happy when I go to sleep. I'm happy when I have to fuss at my kids for not being "good listeners", which happens WAY too often. I'm happy every time in between. In fact, I can't remember the last time I cried and coming from a place where I cried at least once every single day for about two years (one before the fateful "event" and one year after) that is pretty freaking amazing.

TWO: I have fallen totally, completely, amazingly, stupidly, and fabulously in love. Yep. You heard it here. And even more than that, I can absolutely put my finger on the exact moment I knew it. I'll write more about that later, but let's just say it's pretty schmoopy and disgusting. :)  

But... I love him. My kids love him. I love his son. My kids love his son. He loves my kids. And most importantly, he loves me. It's amazing! It also makes me realize how wrong I was for settling for anything less than what this is and what this feels like.  Euphoria. Heaven. Breathing. I can't imagine what life is like without hearing his voice each day, without getting little notes and texts from him at random times, without feeling his arms around me when I finally see him. 

He doesn't create my happiness; he enhances my happiness by listening, supporting, and understanding (or at least trying to) everything I am. he doesn't want me to be anything differently than exactly what and who I am. Hell, guys, he even thinks my damn freckles are beautiful. What's not to freaking love?!

So what's next? Doesn't even matter because he and I will be together when it happens. He wants to marry me...and I can't think of a better way to spend the next 50 years of my life than staring into the eyes and cuddling into the arms of my beautiful Colombian soccer player.

Weighing Down

I don't think I've let you guys in one this little tidbit, but I joined Weight Watchers after the New Year. I have kept it a bit "hush hush" because I felt like only fat people join WW. Well, guess what? I'm pretty fat, guys. True story, even IF no one actually believes I weigh as much as I do.

So...I bit the bullet and joined after I saw a friend of mine getting amazing results.

Guys, I have to tell you...this shit ROCKS! Seriously!!!

I've always felt kinda pissed off that I could eat whenever I wanted and had to deprive myself when I hardly ever saw my skinny friends do that. Or my skinny sister and mother. Well, on this I CAN eat whatever I want, but I just have to keep it with my point range. I can do that. Of course, I'm finding that things I thought I HAD to be able to eat I don't really want anymore though, because there are things I prefer.

For example, my favorite snack now is a banana slathered with a tbsn of peanut butter. Who know Elvis wasn't actually full of shit?! I can also eat carrots and hummas (LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and I was bummed that I couldn't have hummas when I was low carbing. now, I still don't eat a whole lot of bread and whatnot, but now it's by choice and not because I'm told not to.

Now, I'm pretty sure I would have hit my five pound goal before now, but I accidentally clicked the wrong thing and put myself in maintenance instead of weight loss. however, I think it's still good that I lost 5 pounds in 4 weeks. Slow and easy, right?

It's also teaching me how to eat. I biggest issue I've always fought is actually eating, well, eating at all. When I was growing up MJ would comment on having gained a few pounds and  instantly stop eating until she'd lost it (Oops, I "forgot" to eat lunch again.) or would constantly comment on every single thing Pop and I put in out mouths; so, I assumed to lose weight you jut had to not eat. For a long time I was good at that too. In fact, I'm willing to go on a limb and guesstimate that I consumed around 100 calories a day for the entirety of my freshman year of high school. Why? Well, I only ate around my parents and then I ate like I was on a diet. Oh, MJ was SO proud of my weight loss and talked about it to everyone. Truthfully, it's one of the only times I've felt she was really proud of me. Now, some of my friends noticed the whole not eating thing and started getting concerned, but the parents never noticed anything other than my loss. Ok, so that really WAS the plan, but it kinda pissed me off anyway. I know; I was a bitchy teenager. Well, after the school year ended and I had to been seen eating that summer I gained weight and couldn't find that "happy-not-hungry" place anymore when school finally started.

Truthfully, I was actually pretty ok, until the high school boyfriend. With his "help" I slid down into a huge gully of self loathing that continued for years. Perhaps I'll tell you guys about it one day, but I'm not sure if I want to. Suffice it to say that I'm not in that place anymore, but it damn sure took a long time to crawl out.   Anyway, I gained and pulled my fat around me subsociously thinking that only those REALLY interested in me would approach me and I'd be protected from the world. Not so much actually since I proceeded to pick guys that preyed on weak girls. And I was a weak girl. Notice the WAS!!

Sorry, I got derailed...my bad. Anyway, the point is I'm learning to feed my body with healthy foods and not depriving myself of "treats"; however, my definition of treat is changing. I am loving WW and already plan to sign you for three more months when my first 3 are up. I will be a WW girl probably forever.

The only thing I hate about it is that it took me so long to actually join. I can SO do this!

Christmas in the Making

The Christmas PJs have been opened and I'm hoping that the kids will eventually go to bed. Perhaps they will before I fall asleep because I have to be honest, folks...I'm freaking tired!

Sis and I exchanged MJ's gift and then braved WalMart for last minute Christmas dinner items. It wasn't as bad as it should have been, but it was still insane. It made me very glad I've been taking an extra dose of Lexapro for the past few days. I have totally been thinking ahead!

However, it didn't keep me from feeling a bit of stress and calling my sexy Colombian to hear a calm, soothing voice to drown out the crazy rants of, actually, Sis. (Sis has NOT been taking HER medicine at all let alone the extra doses like me.)

Ahhhhh...so, can I tell you all how fluttery I get when I hear, "Helllooooo, how are you babe?! My Jeeemie." (Yes, he pronounces it more Jemie than Jamie, but it's very adorable. Come on, he's Colombian.) I even got a text earlier today that was just a little "thinking of you" note referring to me as "babydoll".

Can we say swoon?! 

Anyway...I have to get Jekyll back in bed for at least the 50th time...G'Night.

Merry Christmas!!!

Afternoon Happiness

So, let me just tell you, guys!! I had the most wonderful afternoon! Truly, I did! 

What happened you ask?


Well................................................

I met my sweet, beautiful, Colombian soccer player (henceforth known as MAT because, well, those are his initials.) in Mobile today at Starbucks. A coffee on the patio while we laughed and talked (and he held my hand) set the tone quite well. Yep, you read that correctly; as soon as we saw one another and hugged, he immediately slipped my hand to the inside crook of his arm, covering it with the other. (Totally swoon-worthy!)

Now this may not seem wondrously interesting to most, but as someone who has always craved touch, yet have never dated a man who shared that, it was a huge deal. I mean, I've had the constant gropers and the "Oh look we are alone" grabbers, but never, never have I had a man who could simply drape his arm around my shoulder as a gesture of affection or hold my hand without a single thought as to place, people, or appropriateness. Plus, it was touch that was affection for the sake of affection and not overtly sexual. (Not that there was no chemistry or slight undertone, but it wasn't touch meant to just be about sex. That was nice. Affection just to show care not just an avenue to get laid.)

And I must admit that because of that I have always been a bit timid, but I never gave it a second though to throw my arm around his waist and hug him back or reach backwards for his hand when the passageway was narrow and I had to walk ahead of him. It was as though I had been doing that for years.  I also haven't dated a guy who was as animated as me-hand and face.

I did find out juicy tidbits today....it is not a stereotype to assume that as a Colombian he loves coffee (when I asked the question he smiled and said, "Of course I love coffee; I'm Colombian."), he gets moody when hungry, almost always drives the speed limit (Except today, he got a speeding ticket on his way to Mobile. His first ever!), he likes to play with Diego's toys, and he thinks it would be interesting to live in Atlanta (However, I'm not sure he can just pick up and move since his company sponsor's his visa to live here. I don't really know how all that works.).

Didn't I tell you guys he was my Colombian soccer player? Yep, wasn't kidding. He really is from Colombia-like his whole life and his family still lives there. NOTE- He did ask me if I thought I'd enjoy or have a problem with visiting Colombia. Just saying. I know he is just ticking off random questions that might become an issue if this continues, but it still denotes the thought of future. Personally, I think it would rock! However, I like to travel to new places.

Oh, I also learned that bullshit you read in romance novels about a "smouldering" look can actually be accomplished by a Latin man. If it can be accomplished by anyone else I've never seen it, but I've seen attempts-laughable attempts. MAT can smile and then focus his eyes in a way that is just tingle central. Seriously, you can damn near feels what he's thinking. :) 

Anyway, when it was time to go, he drove me to my car and kissed me several times before I went to my car and began my trek home. or should I say...my smiley trek home.

Yep, I smiled all the way home.

It really was the kind of day that definitely makes all other things seem wonderful.

To be continued...

Bags Galore: A Virtual Party

My sister, who is the Princess of shopping with MJ being the Queen of all things shopping, never ceases to amaze me. I swear every time I talk to her or go visit her I am introduced to yet another product or store that I cannot live without.

Seriously! She introduced me to Swatch watches and  Guess jeans when I was a kid and took me into my first Old Navy when I was in college. I guess begin older than me and living in the big ATL has some serious advantages.  

So once again, my sister has shown me a new line of bags that I want in every style and every color. Thirty-One Gifts....

Ahhh, I wish I were rich instead of cute... (hee hee)

Anyway, you guys should all hope on over to Thirty-One Gifts and take a look because I just KNOW that someone in your lives would kill to have an insulated lunch bag, make-up bag, tote, or any one of the other wonderful bags available. I mean, what girl does NOT love bags!! (I know I do and for that matter, so does my Cait.)

In fact.... my lovely sister is having a virtual party at Thirty-One Gifts. Anyone who orders $31 worth of these fabulous bags will receive a gift of a hard case wallet. Plus, almost all of them can be skipped directly to you or the person in your life who LOVES bags by Christmas! Great deal, huh?! (especially for those of you who hate to get out in the hustle and bustle of the shopping crowds. You know who you are!)

I not only encourage you guys to shop under her PARTY I really, really want you guys to.

Spread the word to your friends and family members. Seriously, it's a win-win. You guys get a fabulous bag and wallet and my sis gets a  few goodies for herself. (She's known to spread the love around to yours truly, AKA, her favorite sister.) 

Check it out and enjoy shopping!!

Feeling Better

Yeah, so I'm feeling better today; sorry about the complete and total meltdown.  

Not that it wasn't totally warranted and I'm somehow not allowed to completely lose my shit whenever I want, but I do try to keep my crazy at a minimum.

Really, I do. Promise.

And tonight I'm going out with a friend and I will have a great time and tomorrow the kids and I are going to Pensacola to hang out with D and bake cookies. Next week I get to chill with the family.

Recharging my soul with my peeps will be just the ticket.

In Honor of Being Sneaky

I have been racking my brain since I signed up for my friend's blogfest at Cerebral Lunchbox to figure out exactly what to write about. You see, we are supposed to write about a time when we screwed someone over (or got screwed over ourselves) in honor of just how badly the native Americans were screwed over when the first "pale face" stepped foot off a boat.

Ahhh...that was a fine bit of nasty sneakiness wasn't it?

Of course, I totally feel remorseless because every person who would create the future genetics of me were either chillin in Ireland or being of the screwed over Choctaws. Therefore, I can SO talk all the shit I want.

But I believe I digress...I still have to think of something witty and creatively intelligent to say about being screwed over. Grrrr... So here's the thing, I started this blog because I was screwed over. Like Royally So! (If you are new here I really don't want to go into it but feel free to rifle through old posts to hear all about whatshisname and all of the fun we had while married. Whoa palatable sarcasm. Too much?) Anyway...

Since I can conjure up any examples of a time when I deliberately screwed someone over in a malicious way (I'm one of those people that's just too damn nice for her own good. It's disgusting really.) I figured I'd talk about how I subtly subject my little children to being screwed over in small amount each day. (Having half of my genes they too, are too nice for their own good too.)

Now, before anyone calls DHS on me, just read on because it's more about being sneaky than really being mean...because it's all about leaving the house.

You see my babies tend towards being Mommy Clingy (even now I'm typing this one handed because Cait is laying beside me holding my hand. Not hating, just saying.) and the love to go places. They love riding in cars (I'm so thankful they are good trip takers, but I think that's another post). They love going shopping They love people watching. Basically, it's obvious that we share genetics because I'm the same way, I just like to go and be out. Now most of the time I take them wherever I go, but there are times when Mommy needs a break. A Break, do you hear me?! 

I have never never never understood those "Martyr Mommies" that insist that they love to live for their children's every waking moment and breathe. Seriously? Did you just move here from Stepford or are you diseased? Don't get too close I'm afraid whatever it is you have will rub off on me and I will forget how to be Jamie. Personally, I think they are lying because they think that's what woman/mommies are supposed to do. Yeah, umm not so much here...Anywhoo, I digress yet again, sorry...

So back to my break. I do not get them very often, but when I do I am ready and out the door in 5 minutes flat!!! I do not want to waste a single second to sweet freedom and quiet, but I am almost always left with the problem of how to get out of the door unnoticed. Now Tuesday nights, when I have class, they are nonplussed about me leaving then because they know that mommy works on that night, but any other time I have tiny tots scrambling for shoes and trying to barricade the door by the time I get there. "I go. I go!!" Sigh

How do I get them out of the way so I can sneak out and enjoy my time alone? Oh, I'm a total sneak and, thankfully, my parents share this trait and have no problem with bribery. I usually send them into the den under the guise of "Poppa has a treat for you guys" and as soon as they round the corner to the den, I silently slide out the door.

Now it doesn't always work and there have been times I have left them yelling and banging on the door, and yes, as a matter of fact, I can here them as I walk to the car. And yes, I do continue to walk to the car. Why?

Three reasons:

1. My parents will bribe them with candy or food to make them stop.
2. They will be over it and be completely fine in 60 seconds.
3. By the time I'm willing to leave without distraction, I need to go. Seriously. Need. To. Go.

Does this make the world's worst Mommy? While so many think so, I tend to belive that perserving my sanity makes me a much better Mommy...sneakiness and all.  

Thing 1's Journey

So, I've talked about the recent struggles that T has been having in school lately and you guys have been very outspoken and supportive. Thank you.

He was suspended from school yesterday for the same behavior from the last time I blogged about him (he did it on Monday and Tuesday, which is why he was suspended on Wednesday) and, at the suggestion of my sister, I went ahead and and took him to the doctor yesterday while he was "out".

To be fair, he also has had a cough for a few days too.

So, we went to the doctor (a new pediatrician too, but I did make sure I picked the woman since he's more comfy with women than men.). I promised no shots so he was more than willing to go.

He instantly loved the nurse (There is something my son LOVES about black women and blonds. What/ It's true!!) Anyway, the doctor came in and he loved her too. (Perhaps it was the blond highlights, idk.)

She checked his breathing, among other things, and gave me a proscription for his sinus, beginning bronchitis cough....

then I had her check out his face where my sister's fucking dog bit him...ON THE FACE! (Kim, I'm sorry but that dog is going to die when I see him next. Just saying. I'd kennel him for Christmas if you want him to live.)  Anyway, I wanted to see what I could put on the developing scar to minimize it. Seriously, I'm very excited about the keloid that is developing. Really. Thank you genetics that  get nothing, am I mean absolutely nothing (not a tan, not the beautiful think, black hair)  from my Indian blood except the whole keloid scar thing...and then my son gets it too-on his face. Fucking Really??!! Thanks....that rocks....sigh

Anywhooo. I ended the visit with this jem of communication brilliance, "I know he's only four, but, I mean, he's really having trouble in school and at home."

She listened as I went into greater detail about some of the "issues" that we've been dealing with, but was not surprised because she had watched this child literally bounce around the room since she walked in. She asked the question I was waiting for..."Is there anyone else in the family that has these issues." Is there?! "Um, me, my dad, his father, my sister's four kids, my sister, my aunts, a majority of my cousins...and almost all of them/us are medicated in some way for it."

So, she gave me an evaluation to fill out and one for his teacher to fill out.

There were so many things floating through my head as I read it.

• Almost all of these thing sound like him
• Almost all of these things sound like me
• How sad and overwhelmed my baby must feel a majority of the time
• How much I loath the idea of medicating my baby boy, but desperately want him to have an easier time in school than I had.

While I was never a hyper active kid, I was and still am a fidgeter. Something on my body is always in motion-usually it is my leg or foot. (My kids were never really rocked to sleep as babies; they were lulled to sleep by my leg shake-think metronome.)

I would also miss chucks of information because my mind would drift away either in a daydream or get distracted watching out the window. Now, I certainly never admitted to that because I thought my Pop would kill me for goofing off in class and it was never noticed because I was a good kid that never was any trouble and my grades were good. (I always doubled my efforts and learned the information I missed myself so I could keep my grades up.)

My real problems were manifested in anxiety.

I also didn't know that I had a problem with anxiety until I was pregnant with Caitlin. I really always thought that everyone would get severe stomach aches (and occasionally either gag or throw up) anytime they had a test, exam, speech, project, or was called on in class to answer a question. Normal people would get overwhelmed with the thought of every single worst case scenario anytime they left the house right? Maybe  the entire body physically shaking and and overwhelming "bad feeling" about things might have been a bit odd, but my whole family tends to be "high strung" so it's a family thing, but everything else is pretty standard.

Well, it turns out that no, no it's really not normal.

Go figure.

And each time T would display "Jamie" tendencies I would just say, "Poor thing, he's so much like me."

Now, after I finally was told-no, I did not come to this realization myself, I had to be TOLD- I began looking at my child differently. It made makes me sad that he has this same shadow over his head that dims every situation and makes it almost impossible to fully enjoy life.

This is why when asked if I'd ever consider coming off of lexapro I say, "Are you fucking kidding? Hell no!"

Since being medicated myself I love my life. I can taste the highs and lows, savouring each flavor without it spoiling everything else. Now I may be given the opportunity to give T that same gift, the gift of calm. The gift of feeling sane and normal all the time. The gift of not choking on constant fear of people, situations, success, failure, and everything in between.



Is it worth it? Until he's old enough to make the choice for himself...yeah, I think it just might be worth it.

Happiness Recipe a'la Blake

Because I am a huge, phenomenal dork, I randomly search for cool quotes to use for my FaceBook statuses. I figure that everyone can only hear about my love of wine, the potty train status of my children, or the general progress of my day for so long before they just reaaaally don't giveafuck...plus, there are times when I just bored myself. I mean, I look at the things I've written and all I can think is, "Damn you are one sad, no-life having, super boring broad, aren'tcha McCarty? Wow!"

Hence the quotes that try to explain my random moods much more eloquently than I am able to do on the fly. (Ok, so if I tried I probably could, but it's FB people. Do I really need to put that much thought into it?)

The William Blake quote I found today may actually stay up for a while because it instantly made my mind begin to spin with ideas and possibilities...

The essentials to happiness are something to love, something to do, and something to hope for.

After thinking about it I think I'll make a list of each, almost list a list of blessings, except this is more like a recipe for Blake's  Happiness....(I do SO love a list)

Something to Love? My children. My family. My friends. My job(s). Coffee. Sparkly anything. Fresh flowers. The sound of my babies' laughter. Cuddling, kisses, and hugs. Daydreaming. Getting texts that make me smile. Sunsets. (I probably love Sunrises too, but I'm not a fan or being awake for them.) Jangly bracelets. Cooking meals that happily fill tummies. Singing in the car. Hearing my kids sing. The size of my clothes slowly decrease. Bright colors. Toile.  

Something to Do? Attempt sewing. Teach (sometimes) willing minds. Cause spontaneous smiles to erupt from those around me when I smile. Make jokes. Play outside with my kids.  Wander voyeuristicly around FaceBook. Read almost everything I can get my hands on-whenever possible. Avoid unpleasantness, maybe a bit too much. Work on my WIP. Daydream. Search for my place in the world. Work towards my dreams. make the clothing size decrease more quickly.

Something to Hope For? Winning the mystery Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes, like they swear I will. Looking into the future and not feeling a cool line of fear slide down my spine. Text messages that make me smile. The day my 3 person family lives on our own. Finishing my WIP. Finding an agent. Finding my own little place in the world. Sailing on a Disney cruise. Traveling far and wide. Making my daydreams a reality. My kids to have a dad. Remarrying. My clothes being in single digits.

While I'm sure my lists will shrink and swell with each passing day and moment, but as of right now...that's all I got...And from the look of it, I got quite alot to be happy about.   

What's y'all's recipe?

A Little Misty

Every morning and every afternoon I fall juuuust a little more in love with this guy I see while I'm driving to T's school. So, perhaps I'm not in love with him because I have no clue who is is (although I know where he lives). Seriously, I am only slightly exaggerating, because I think is just wonderful.

Ok, so let me just tell the story...

My normal route to the school takes me by Reserrection Elementary school and each morning I pass by a Dad (whom I lovingly refer to as Ultimate Dad) in some stage of walking his two children to school. I first noticed them leaving their house, which is just down from the school, with him pulling a little red wagon. I thought it was absolutly the cutest thing I had ever seen in my life. 

Since that first day I have seen them pretty much every morning. And to make matters even worse on my particular little, tender heart, I saw him walking the kids back from school this afternoon. I swear my eyes teared up and I sighed over the Ultimate Dad. Now, this is the part where I tell you that other than the bit of white in his hair, I have absolutly no clue what this man looks like. I only know that he's average height and has what looks to be a second grader and a preschooler.  Actually, not really him so much as the idea of him. The idea of the dad who walks his children to and from school (I think he works from home) just squeezes my chest until tears pop up. I SO desperatly want that for my kids.

I mean, I didn't think about them when I got married and they ended up with someone who woud have either found 10,000 excuses to NOT do it or only go with a beer in hand. While I never, never, never in a million years would ever, ever, ever, ever, ever want my ex back, I can't help but morn what I wasn't able to give them-an Ultimate Dad.  *sniff

However, I want to take a moment to thank Ultimate Dad and other Dads of his ilk for being phoneminal dads. I'm sure there are times when you may not be appriciated as you should, but know that your job is amazingly important. I thank you for you give me hope.

(And Moms married to these Dad's, please know that I am sinfully envious of you. Whenever you get a bit fed up with his shenanigans, remember how lucky you are to have a real dad for your precious children. Not all of were so lucky.)

Soap Box Over!

Thank you and Good Night.

The Thing About Moms.

I don't know if you know this, but I am great with moms. Seriously! My whole life moms have loved me like no one's business. If I dated their sons, they wanted me to be thier daughter in law. If I was friends with their daughters, they wanted ME to be their daughter instead. And I have no idea why because I've never had that same luck with my own.

Strangely enough my absolute favorite teacher in the entire world looks so much like my mom that they have often been mistaken for one another. I distinctly remember having to do double takes occasionally in class. Now, I would have loved, her reguardless of how she looked just for her vitality, positive spirit, and joy, but I cannot express the feelings that washed over me everytime I was given praise for even the smallest thing. Even now, as an adult, I still well up with tears when she showers me with encouragment and praise. Why? Because she is way more generous with it than her doppleganger has ever been. (There were actually times in high school when I would pretend it had been my mom that said those things instead of just me teacher.)

Don't get my wrong, she loves and all that, but I'm still willing to place odds that if she got to go back and choose that daughter she'd want...it really woudn't be me. (Truthfully, it'd be a boy. Yes, as a matter of fact I do know that is true, thank you. I was told.)  The thing is she is just very fugal with her praise and positive encouragement. She tends to say the first thing that pops into her head, which is often a bit harsh. But she is unaware of it.

However, I have just never understood why I am unable to even name the number of mom-type people in my life that think I am beyond wonderful and hav no problem telling me so and my own only finds fault with every.single.thing.I.do.or.try.or.am.

I often tought that maybe it's just the way the whole mother/dughter dynamic jsut worked, but I'm not like that with Cait. I cannot even count the number of times a day I tell her how beautiful she is or how smart she is, or how proud I am of her. Now this could be me overcomensationg, but I don't think so. I really and truely, to the bottom of my soul, believe everything I tell her. Maybe I'm just not afraid to tell her.  Maybe I'm just unafraid to release control just a smidge and allow for imperfections to show and accept they exist.

But here I am, just as I was as a kid, hiding my hurt feelings behind a smile to placate and keep the status quo. (And God knows when I mention those feelings it's somehow my fault for feeling that like anyway because I'm way too sensitive.)  Does she get mad and fraustrated with me? Yep. Does she talk to me the same way she ever has? Yep. Do I say anything about it? Not enough to make a difference because I promised Pop I wouldn't.  However, where at first I was afraid that in her frustration with me and the kids she'd eventually force me to leave so she could regain her "space," I know that is one fight my Pop would absolutly fight for me.

The funny thing is...when I do leave she'll cry and be sad and miss us. Too bad she can't channel future feelings into her current ones and not take us (me) for granted while we are here.

Give me a Break

I just had a long chat with my buddy, Aggie, because I received the most interesting thing in the mail today.......

a letter from "you know who"

Yep, that's right. "he" (I wanted you guys to realize that isn't capitalized on purpose) sent me a letter letting me know where he was transferred and will spend his time as a "guest of the state of MS".


Of course, he just could not stop there. Oh no!!! he had to continue...

• he goes to counseling and AA meetings now (That might be better had he done that BEFORE there was a problem-just throwing that out there)
• he prays daily for the 3 of us and is in the search for God (Keep looking, buck-O!)
• he realizes how much he has hurt me (Umm, I'm not really sure he really has a fucking clue!)
• he misses the kids and realizes he has never ween Cait walk or heard her voice (Perhaps, as before, that should have been a thought BEFORE he decided to get stupid!! just saying)

As I red the letter I found myself getting more and more pissed off and then... WHAM...tears. WTFHell!!  I mean, it's been almost a freaking year and a half since the world slipped sideways and I thought I'd made great stride in my recovery.


Now, Aggie tells me that I have, in fact made amazing strides and that it is not strange that it triggered an emotional response. We were married for 8 years after all. But it still just flies all over me that I wasted another tears, another sniffle, another second of my life thinking about him and what he has done to the kids.


You see,  I accept my responsibility in what happened. I made the choice to marry him. I made the choice to not leave him when I first became unhappy and the marriage was slipping southward. I made the choice to have not one, but two children, especially when I actually knew in my gut by the time I was pregnant with Cait that he was having an affair. God, help me I knew and I couldn't prove it. I knew it and I never had anything by my personal instincts screaming in my head. For that I take responsibility, but I do not, can not, will not ever take responsibility for the behavior exhibited by that "man" (and I use that term loosely) and the things he did to my children.


Although I must say that all of the things he took away (traditional family until, home of their own, someone to call daddy), those two little monkeys are as happy as any other kids their age, and happier in some ways. They will never have to see me cry on a daily basis or feel so sad and listless that I can hardly get out of bed or fly into a manic episode of scrubbing the entire house and then fly into a rage because someone else got credit for it or any of the countless other attractive behaviors that were pretty normal during my marriage.


So, my final question is whether I write him back to explain that I will never give him access to my children-that he allowed that ship to sail when he started fucking someone who wasn't me. he will never receive a single picture, letter, card, or drawing from from one of my children or about my children. Perhaps his parents will oblige him, but not me. Nope. Nope. Nope. Absofuckinglutly not! If the kids want to seek him out when they are adults and he is no longer a guest of the state that is between them and their personal Jesus, but Mommy aint' having a damn thing to do with it. I will not watch him hurt them again while I am in control of their lives.

To write and express my true and deep feelings or not? The Aggie says no because I do not need to become tangled up in all of that shit again, but part of me really wants to inflict as much pain as humanly possible since I cannot actually put my hands on him and physically hurt him. I'm not normally a violent person, but I have been spoiling to hit someone or something for about a year now since I never got the opportunity to look him dead in his eyes and hit him with the biggest thing I could grab in my little hands. And trust me, I can sharpen my word into tiny, poisonous daggers that will need heal properly, but is it worth it? Will it just make it harder to leave it all behind me? Or will I just always want that last taste of finality that only a scathing letter can truly bring? Perhaps I should write it and not send it, much like my letter to that girl.

What say you, faithful few? I trust your learned opinions. Write and send? Write and don't send? Don't write and leave it alone? Leave me a little message so I can take everyone's pulse to help make my decision.

I will say this...I do forgive. It is not aulturistic though; I forgive him only because it is good for MY soul. Right now the only thing rconcerning around my little mind is the well-being of my little three person family-Me, Cait, and T. Everything else in the world is just lagniappe and I will deal with all of that as I feel like it...and right now, I'm not really feeling like it.

Strange Realizations

So, my friend, D, and I were chatting last night, discussing our amazing lack of lives, when I was totally caught off guard with what should have been obvious. When she and I talk about these things we want we are actually talking about vastly different things.

I said I wanted a social life. (Now this is the part where I admit that I actually sabotage myself from having a social life. The longer I at home, without said life, the more likely I am to stay that way. I even start to make up excuses and plot how to NOT go anywhere. It almost feels like I make myself agoraphobic. Now multiply that with the guilt I feel whenever I go somewhere without the kids and my parents watch them for me. Hell, I only went to the gym once this past week because I just felt terrible and selfish every time I thought about going. If the kids weren't asleep, I just couldn't make myself go. I feel like I have to work up as much good will with my mom as possible because my kids stress her out. She's a believer that kids should be seen and not heard and my kids just can't manage that one-my fault, I didn't raise them that way.) Anyhow, back to my story...

D, however, wants an exciting life. Now the description she presented of the "perfect, fantasy life of excitement" sounded like I would find it fun for about five minutes-perhaps ten, but definitely no longer than an hour.

I think excitement might be overrated or at least what most people consider excitement. I'm just not an adrenaline junkie. I can handle roller coasters about once a year (at best). While I drive a little fast, it makes me hyperventilate to ride with someone driving fast. I prefer to eeeeaaassse into new situations, not jump in head first. in other words, I'm a total scardy cat. I admit it.

However, I think there is something to be said about calm souls and enjoy quiet evenings as much nights out. That sounds like a whole lot of fun to me. I mean, me ex was the life of the party. Fun, outgoing, and totally bored by nights at home with me and the kids. In think that was one of the issues that prompted him to find, umm, another playmate-as it were. An evening playing with the kids and snuggling on the couch after they are in bed sounds as thrilling to me as an evening out...actually it sounds way more fun than a wild night at a club.

Ahhh my wild and crazy dreams...

The Wrap-up

So, its the end of this lovely weekend and although I should be in bed, I just can't freaking sleep. I have tried a dozen things to help me sleep, but I draw the line at warm milk. Sorry, if I don't like it cold, I sure at hell won't like it warm. Blech!

Anyway, this is my last ditch effort at sleep. I figure if I can write all of the random craziness in my brain I might, just might be able to get to sleep before my children wake up. OK now, let's start at the beginning...

Friday-massive cleaning tactics because of the Sadler invasion that evening. Picture it, six kids (whose ages range from14 to 2) and three adults in one small house. Fruit-basket-turn-over to be sure, but it was fun- claustrophobic, but fun.

I got to hear an almost play-by-play for a good friend of mine fall in love over the weekend. I'm so excited for her because she deserves to be happy so badly. She would send me random messages about things he would say or do. Totally swoon worthy! Although he has a brother, I'm actually wondering if I can get him cloned. lol  Actually, its the first time a friend of mine found happiness in boyland that I felt not even the smallest pang of envy because I didn't have one too. Maybe I've realized that it will come when it comes, or not. I certainly do not relish the idea of being alone, but I'm not afraid of it anymore. That's a big step for me. I'm letting go of my perceptions of pretty much everything. I'm going to create my own time and space from what works for me and not what is The Status Quo. I can now wrap myself up in the idea of being whole and solid on my own instead of needing another half.

I sometimes, wondering, because in writing it is so hard to detect particular inflections that show up verbally, if people mean comments the way I take them. In a chat it easier because you can ask, but on a random comment...all but impossible. However, I have decided that if it makes me happy to take a comment a particular way, I'm going to do just that because it hurts no one if I do.  So there. 

Today I watched my Brother-in-Law play beaseball with my kids (and his too). He ticked and hugged and even let Cait put bows in his hair and while I loved him for it, it didn't make me sad.  I think that's HUGE  for me. No, no, I know it's HUGE for me. I didn't think of what my kids were missing out on; instead, I simply enjoyed the moment of watching them play and of beign in the background.  (Seriously, by the 100,000th Mommy, you'd have to be deaf not to need a time out. I don't care what anyone says.) 

In the next few weeks, the final push to get whatshisname completely ripped from our lives will be in full effect. He will not have a single right to them AND they will have MY name and not HIS name. We will all have my name. While I am still in contact with his family, because his family didn't fuck everything up he did, I think it's better that the kids do not have that "name" hanging over them forever. Plus, it is be the sweat of MY brow that clothes, feeds, shelters, spoils, loves and discliplines them so they should have MY name. I don't even mind going back to the middle of the alphabet; at least the McCs come before the rest of the Ms.

Ah, so enthused by so little...Oh, I also have written absolutly nothing sice Friday. Nope, not a word, sentence, phrase, nada! Why? Umm, did you read above the vast number of people that were in this house this weekend? Yeah, that's why. I plan on making it up this week and continuing my push to finish. I think I will concentrate on filling in gaps that bother me since I've changed stuff half way in. I have copious notes of changes and additions that keep floating in front of my eyes while I'm writing so I guess I should go ahead and get that done so I can figure out the rest of the story. It's getting pretty good, but I still don't knwo who the bad guy is. There are several contenders who have motive and oppotunity, but I just do not know how it will turn out. I have no idea if that is good or bad either, but it certainly is the way it's going.

Ok, perhaps I can sleep now. I sure hope so since I can feel my eyelids sinking....G'Night!