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.  :)

Blowing My Mind

Ok, so there is this thing that has been absolutly killing me for the longest time....

United States 119

United Kingdom 8
Denmark 5
Germany 4
Slovenia 3
France 2
Hungary 1

Russia 1




That, my FF is the Audience form this past week. Here's what kills me: I have a sorority sister in France and I know 2 people who live in Germany, and, of course, the United States is just a given, but I am in awe over the people who are reading this thing. For real! Actually this has been a low week because there are usually people from China and various other places too.

To be perfectly onest I have no idea why anyone in the world other than my family and most sorority sisters would read my mindless ramblings and rants. Crazy! However, thanks guys!!!! Love ya!!!

Number Two in the list of things that blow my mind...my sweet MAT who calls just to see how my day is going, thinks it is sexy that I know what little Spanish I do. (I can only cuss and hold very short, simple conversations, but mainly cuss.), is excited to hang out with me and my kiddies tomorrow, and occasionally whines, "Why do you have to live so far away my beautiful Jamie?"  

Ahhhh my poor little fluttery heart....

Group Date

So the last time I uttered the question, "The kids and I are going to ____, why don't you come with us" to a guy there was a deafening simlence that followed and a few days later he bolted! Seriosuly, he really did. No call. No text. No return texts. No FB chat. NOTHING. Whatever.

So, the other day when I made the comment, "Since you ahve to work on Saturday and you don't have a sitter on Sunday, what do you think about all of us getting together-the whole crew?"

Now, I would be lying if I said I wasn't completely naucious as soon as I realized what I had just said because of previous experience. Granted the last guy didn't have kids and MAT does, but that doens't mean he'd be all Woo Hoo about hanging out with my kiddies. 

His reaction? "That sounds great!" And he means it! I did asl him if it made him uncomfortable and I swear I heard the confused look on his face as he typed (yep, we were chatting), "No. We have kids, so it's a natural thing for us to do something together with our kids." So...he and I are having a group date on Sunday....me, him, Tristan, Caitlin, and Diego.

I'm both excited and a bit nervous. What if my kids are terrible and behave like wild animals? What if Diego just hates me? (Not that I've ever met a 2 year old that didn't like, but but you never know.) What if lots of things...

Not that I've ever been in this position, but I'm thinking it's kind of a big deal for two people who have kids and like one another to get together with thier kids. It feels like a big deal.

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...

It's Raining all Kinds of Good Things!!

Have a listen in my brain for a minute...

It's Raining Men!

Hallelujah!

It's Raining Men!

Amen!

It's Raining Jobs!

Hallelujah!

It's Raining Jobs!

Ame---------nnnn!

Why am I singing such a silly song and changing words? Because this whole past week it really is literally raining men and jobs.

Let me explain...

I applied for an Academic Tutor position at a Jr high and then got a call from the high school. I was offered both jobs and the principals were almost willing to fight over who got to have me. I'm SO not kidding. the Superintendent had to settle it and place me where HE thought I should go.

Am I concerned? Oh hell no! I'm just glad I have a job! and After a year and a half of not being the choice, it feels pretty damn awesome to be everyone's choice.

Now for the men...

Ok, so there is my sexy, Colombian soccer player. He is sweet and loves to shower me with compliments, which I'm a HUGE fan of. Seriously.

So, my email was given to another nice guy by a friend of mine and we have been communicating only through email for a week or so now. He just asked me out.  We haven't even had a phone conversation and he really feels like he wants to take me out. We are going to Bellingrath gardens to tour the lights and to dinner. How sweet! I'm pretty excited. I swear my palms started sweating just reading the email.

However, this leaves me to question the Universe...

Where in the hell has all of this been my whole damn life??

Is it possible to be grateful and question the reasoning at the same time? I'm serious, I would have loved to have various nice, sweet, handsome, complimentary guys vying for my attention, like, my whole life! What's up with all this? Here again, I'm totally grateful and appreciate the Universe leading me to this point, but it just feels strange.

I mean, I'm the same person I've always been, aren't I?  Arent' I?

What is the major difference that has all of this happening. Let's just examine this for a second...I have been out on dates with five different guys since August. August!! Five!

I didn't even date like that in college. I didn't even date like that in high school. I mean, I wanted to, but I was never asked out. Hell, I even asked Joe out for our first date! 

And I was thinner and younger and, well, thinner. Wild!!

Of course, I am more confident now. More together. I know who I am now and had no DAMN clue anytime before now.

I guess I just find it odd because I was once told by a guy I no longer really talk to that as a single mom I have to be less choosy and put up with more. That guys could actually end up with "quite a bargain" by dating a single mom.

(Gee, I wonder why I stopped talking to him...)

After that I realized that I'd rather be alone than have to settle for something that even remotely resembled what I had left. And, might I add,  I'd be just fine being alone.

Soooo does a complete lack of interest add to my mystique? Go figure.  I guess it worked for the whole job thing too.

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.  

The Field Trip That Wasn't

Today was supposed to be Tristan's first ever real field trip. He was supposed to go to the aquarium in New Orleans and the IMax with the entire school.(In truth, I was nervous about him going because I felt he was a bit too young to go on a field trip so far away fromhome, but I didn't want my nervous nature to keep him from doing things with his class. I had an even worse feeling about it when I woke up to rain, but was determined to still let him go. It's only fair, right?!) Did he go? No. Why? Umm, let me tell you...

It was a pretty good morning, despite the fact that it was dark and rainy and we had to leave the house about the time we are usually getting dressed for school. However, I'm a stickler for being on time, so by God, we were early.

I pulled under the overhang to let T out of the car and was met by two of the older kid's teachers. I thought they were the "car greeters" this morning, but I was wrong.

"Are you going with us today?'
"No, sorry, I can't" (I was going to go until my aunt went into the hospital again and I had no one to keep Cait, but it's not like I had to explain myself to a teacher who's name I don't even know. Right?)
"You need to."
I looked at this woman expecting to see something in her face that told me how fun it would be or how special it is to experience the first field trip and once again, I was wrong.

Suddenly both teachers began to go into how T having "one of his tantrums" would just ruin the whole trip for everyone and describing each interacting they have ever had with T that was negative.

T instantly had THAT look on his face-I know it well. Being a little Leo (and yes, as a matter of fact, it does matter, I was raised by 2 damn Leos.) he cannot deal with embarrassment at all. And boy was he embarrassed. So was I. I mean, I was being told how terrible my son was.

Well, public embarrassment and those teachers standing right in front of him, blocking the entrance to the building, and mommy being totally ineffectual and not wanting to be the "not MY child" parent (I know how he is, but he's only 4, for God's sake) I caved and did exactly what they seemed to want  me to do. I put my child back in the car, as he was just starting to melt down, and drove home. No field trip for T today.

I am hurt, angry, embarrassed, and sad that my child seems to be so thoroughly discussed in a negative way among the teachers (they were continuing to bitch about him while I was talking to T; I have really good "teacher" hearing) and that I haven't been as apprised of the situation as thoroughly (his teacher is always so positive and just "it was a bad day" when he doesn't get a green face). Don't get me wrong, I know how my child is. Seriously. He can be obstinate, but he's also extremely loving and loads of fun when handled the correct way. (And let me just say here that, as a teacher, I recognize a teachers who talk AT students instead of TO students. Just saying.)

So, we are at home today, curled up on the couch, both licking our respective wounds from this morning. I have to concentrate on not takign my hurt out on him and just teachign him that he must always be respectful and obedient, even when he may not want to be. I think Mommy should learn how not to be those things when she doesn't have to be.

I will probably never get over the fact that I cried over this today. I will never get over the fact that T cried over this today. I will never got over the fact that T and I were both mad eto feel badly amount him being a hard headed 4 year old, who does have a abandonment and trust issues...damn, people, who wouldn't have them if they'd lead his little life.

T? Oh, he's sharing his breafast (part 2) with his little sister and isn't bothered about not going on the field trip anymore. He may mention it a little later, but it's far from his mind now. Hell, he doesn't even begrudge me for not letting him go.

I sure wish I could forgive and forget like a 4 year old...

Parenting

(Please remember I love my kids more than life itself, but sometimes my job as "The Mom" sucks!)

For any of you that do not have children that may be thinking about the whole baby thing OR have babies that are still tiny and want to know some basics...


What are the best things about being a parent?

• the "I love you's"
• the hugs
• the kisses
• the cuddles
• baby breath. (It lasts until around age 3 then brushing the teeth is necessary to prevent stinking breath, not just tooth health.)
• begin able to teach them new things
• learning to make crafts
• coloring together
• giggles
• watching a budding personality develop
• learning to understand their "language"
• listening to the kids play together

Worst thing about being a parent?

• the phone call from the school principal that your 4 yr old is in the office. (yep, that was today)
• the whole not listening thing!!! (that's pretty consistent, unfortunately)
• doing the whole discipline thing. (especially when you are the first, last, and only defence)
• Holding back your laughter when they do something that you have to get onto them for...(everyday)
• picking eating habits
• tantrums (especially when your kids are half your size and almost stronger than you. lol)
• Did I mention the principal calling? sigh...

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.

Begining at the Begining Again

Operation Self-Esteem--Day Fucking One.
(Elizabeth Gilbert)

Yep, I think I have finally hit the self-analysis wall. Actually, I slammed into it head first, rubbed up against it like a cat, and just- kept- beating- my- head- against- the- stupid- ass- fucking- wall! So, now hopefully all of that is out of my system for a minute and perhaps, it is time to back off and take stock of life as it stands.

I have a job. It may not start until October, but at least I know that I have one. And that interview really boosted my confidence so I'm willing to look into other options that start before October.

I'm not yet the size I want to be and I didn't meet the goal I set in January; HOWEVER, I am numerous inches smaller in most of the areas I wanted to shrink. I'm also pretty proud of the hourglass figure I've achieved and most of the time I feel very Marilyn.

I may not have completed the C25K, but I've decided to start again since I'm in better shape this time than last time I tried. The treadmill is cleaned off for use (since it's too bleeding hot to do it outside) and I even have an app for that on my phone.

My kids aren't the best behaved in the world, but they are cute, polite, listen relatively well, and will be going back to school soon. Did I mention they are cute? Plus they are gong to be way smarter than me so I totally may need to go back to school just so I can keep up.

I might still be living at home, but when Pop graduates from USM (finally) they are going on some trips so I get a bit of a break. Plus, I never have to pay a babysitter when I go to the gym.

I've decided to eliminate all toxic people from my life as much as possible, and if it isn't possible I can at least limit my exposure and how I allow them to effect me and my life.  First and foremost being my ex-husband because he is officially a guest of the state way up in North Mississippi for the next 15 years. I know it sounds strange, but until everything was final I just had this nagging feeling that he could show up at my door. Now, rationally, I know he had no way to do that, but his bail had been lowered and I just couldn't feel totally safe. Not really. Living with my pop has given me the most solace because he would never be dumb enough to face my Dad after what he did; however, I'm sure he's really pissed at me and bound to get even more pissed. (But that's for a later post)

DB told me last night that I need to talk less, do more. Actually that is a paraphrase, but that was the basic thought. She's right, of course, and not just because she is a physiologist and isnt' her job to be right, but because she's known me forever and knows I need to just get out and DO. Do what? Doesn't matter as long as I just get out and do something! I am gong to start a list of things I really want to do in the next year and hopefully I can get them all checked off by the time my year is up.

Most of all I'm going to give myself a break; I just think it is time. Each day, no matter how hard it gets, I'm going to pay myself on the shoulder and congratulate myself on what I have done up to this point. Yep, actually give myself credit for not crawling into the hole I really REALLY wanted to crawl into last year and floating through life letting everyone else take care of me. Good job, Me!

Wedding Thoughts

This is my super-fab cousin Sunnie is getting married in two weeks.She is also the apple of my son's eye. Seriously, I think he'd go live with "MY cousin Sunnie" in a second.

There she at the right...notice the family resemblance...Fair skin. Faux red hair. Sarcastic smile. We are practically twins!

Anyway, she is marrying this guy here...Jesse Pounders.  I have only met Jesse once, but I'm always drawn in my a calm soul and he certainly has that.

You tend to notice things like that about people when you come from a terribly ADD family where everyone fidgets and constantly fills the silence.





I have been trying to give advice and suggestions and be supportive via text, email, and FB about the wedding. I even offered to drive up early and help set up everything. I'm sure she has more than enough help, but I'm a fan of both of them and, truthfully, they are living examples of my hopes.

You see, a majority of us McCarty women have "issues" with our men. (I think I might have blogged out this before.) However, Sunnie has not been immune to the guy-debacle. She has been super supportive during this whole "single mom" thing because she was one way before me.

But when her back was turned, this man caught her by surprise and changed everything. She is blissfully happy in her country wonderland, surrounded by plants and dirt-the way all good hippies should live. While on one had I am "pea-green with envy," I am also so happy because she totally deserves to find her bliss and her true happiness.

I know my time is coming because we all find it eventually, that person who calms and compliments our hectic brains. And when I do...I'm eloping!

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!

50,000 in 50 days...Day 1

Faint-and-fucking-fall-out, I got my 1000 words finished! Actually, I wrote 1301 words. And I did that despite changing diapers, filling cups with milk, constantly reminding the kids to stop running and to use inside voices, peal Caitlin off of me when she tried to scale my upper body while I was typing, and that's just part of the fun this morning.

I'm pretty proud of myself and I'm trying to be positive that I can keep up the pace for all 50 days.

Hope Springs Eternal

So, all of you, faithful few, know that I follow Ms. Single Mom's blog. It's enlightening, relaxing, entertaining, and inspiring. Today she posted about a conversation she had with another Single Mom Friend (SMF) about Elizabeth Gilbert's new book Committed. (For those who do not know Ms. Gilbert's story pick up a copy of Eat, Pray, Love and read it. I've read it pre and post divorce.)
Although both women are in lovely relationships the idea of marriage still makes them a bit shaky and doe-eyed.

She posed the question to all of her followers, wonering what WE all think of the marriage question. Would we want to? What are the expectations you would take into a second marriage?

I actually thought about it. And I decided that I would throw my two cents into the fray and below is what I came up with...

Although it's taken a year of avoiding anything to do with "the M word", but I think I would like to get married again one day. However, I have several thoughts on the subject.

First and foremost, I would never marry so my children could have a father. I would never marry because as a teacher I will always struggle to make ends meet. I would never marry because "seems like the right thing to do". I would never marry someone I absolutly could not live without; instead I would marry someone I would want to live without and would stand beside the 3 of us as one of us and not an addition.

The last time around I searched to find love, support, acceptance, excitement, and a multitude of other things I thought would complete me; however, instead of looking for it in someone else, I have found all of it myself. This time I want not someone to complete me, but someone to compliment me-a warm breeze that makes me smile, not one who fills my sails.

Not too shabby, huh? 

All of that being said, the question on the wind is, "Will that someone ever pop up?" Idon'tknow. I am not on the hunt. I am not searching. I am enjoying the new experience of freedom and being. Just being. No expectations save my own. No true need to search for love outside of my own mirror and the faces of my children and there it is not a search-it is a fact.

Ahhh, but being the helpless romantic that I truely am-Damn, Victorian literature-I think of a time when I will again have someone's should on which to rest my head or someone's arms around me as a sleep. There's a part of my soul that craves it; that begs me to find it, but I think I'll let The Universe take care of that. After all, I gotta take care of Thing1 and Thing2. Oh, and me too! 

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).

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...

Mother's Day

Since this will be my fourth official Mother's Day and my first Single Mother's Day, I thought it appropriate to reflect on what I have learned about being a Mother and maybe exorcisee some demons while I'm at it.

*  The most important thing I've learned that everyone has his/her own definition of what a "good mother" is or does. When Tristan was born I never produced milk. And let, me let me you, faithful few, I did everything including take medication to make it come in. I'd sit alone for hours with an electronic pump to maybe have half an ounce total to show for it; only to sit with my baby for a few minutes before I had to go try to pump again. (Ya had to do it every two hours for the first week or so or until the milk came in.). I had lactation consultants. I had 2 different kinds of pumps.  Every time I tried to nurse,  Tristan would cry and then I would cry. Finally, at the end of a month I stopped trying because I figured out being sad for not being able to nurse was just making Tristan more upset. So, a happy Mommy equaled a happy baby. However, I never actually shared the intense pain and sadness I felt (and still feel) that I was never able to fulfill that so basic need for my own children, instead I would just smile and say, "It didn't work out for us," and leave it at that. Unfortunately people I was "friends" with often made both pointed and subtle remarks about my use of formula-especially since I didn't even try with Caitlin. Honestly, I just couldn't go through trying and failing again.

*  Good Mom's need different things. By the time Tristan was six weeks old, he was in daycare and I was back in my classroom. Why? Well, I was a teacher married to a teacher...umm, I kinda HAD to. But also because I Like My Job. It's true, sue me.  I love being out and about among people and, yes, being known for and as something other than Tristan and Caitlin's Mom. However, I was guilted so much by the idea I was allowing other people to raise my children, I decided to become a stay at home mom. Truth is, I don't think I'm really cut out to be one. I love my children with every fiber of my soul, but by the end of almost every day I'm so tired of hearing the word "mommy" being uttered every two-point-five-seconds it makes me sad. I feel guilty. I love them, hell, I even like them, but being followed by two ceaselessly loquacious shadows from sun up to sun down (even in the bathroom), it really just wares on the soul. I often fantasize about the 2 hour planning periods I had at school where I would lock my door and turn out the lights and totally decompress. Complete still and silence seems too much of a luxury to ever hope for. I am very thankful for the time I am given to go to the gym a few days a week, but that still involves people and sound and moving. I've always been a person who needed brief bites of solitude to recharge my batteries. Now, I have T popping in the bathroom, when I finally get around to getting a shower, "Mom, I gotta go tee tee. Hey, you're in the shower. Are you getting clean? Why are you showering now? I can't wait to shower tonight. I like taking baths. Are we taking a bath tonight? Can I have some milk? Ok, I tee teed so I'm leaving now. Bye Mom." (Just imagine when he goes poop?!) By the time Thing 1 and Thing 2 fall asleep I have just enough energy left to work the bare minimum on my online classes, write some of the randomness rolling around in my head, perhaps chat with a buddy on fb, and crash into bed...only to not be able to sleep.  This is actually being written in the wee hours of morning because sleep, again, is being a bitch and eluding my exhausted mind and body.

* Good mom have kids that are not always angels. This has been the hardest for me to learn because I instantly chastise myself for being a terrible mother whenever my children are not perfect. Yep, my kids are not still and are rarely quiet in church. My kids are hyper active. My kids want to touch, feel, explore, and look at everything in the world because they are curious. I've learned (and almost accepted) that sometimes I expect too much out of a 3 and 1 year old and their curiosity just means they are intelligent. They aren't always good, but they are certainly good at whatever they are doing.

At the end of the day, my kids are happy, healthy, polite, pleasant, totally cute, and ahead of developmentally milestones. They laugh all the time and, most importantly, they love me. I guess I'm doing something right.

After all they are as new to the whole being a kid thing as I am the whole Mom thing, so it looks like we will be learning together.