Monday, November 30, 2009
So that the next 183 days will go by faster.
Only I hit my ass instead.
On the corner of the coffee table.
(And no, the coffee table is not super-tall and I am not a midget.)
But it must have caused some amnesia
Because I don't remember what I was doing under there.
It was after I had rearranged all the furniture.
And after I found Haley's retainer container in the hall closet.
Leave it to me to do it entirely wrong.
All I got was a bruise on my ass and a mild case of amnesia.
And now this post looks like a poem about my ass
Which is so amusing to me that I'm going to leave it this way.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
- If I can hang out with Keira Knightley by climbing into a cupboard then I'm going to do it right now. I hope she's under the kitchen sink because I think that's the only one I can fit into.
- Why do my teenager's friends use up my limited texting by telling me they have to pee and they're going to use my bathroom?
- How do I tell someone what I really want without making them feel unmanly?
- Haley would be perfectly happy with a pomegranate and an old crusty mostly empty jar of Fluff for Christmas so why am I buying her a new camera?
- How long is 184 days?
This was a problem.
I stopped eating things that hurt and started drinking Fennel Tea and taking peppermint capsules but it was too late. I was up until 2 a.m. feeling extremely hungover.
So today I took all the crazy and I put it into a more productive behavior than eating food dye and high frutose corn syrup and fat and instead I had Haley help me clean her entire room which is a huge feat that rarely happens all at once. Sure, I sneak in there every day and pick up trash that she'll never notice is missing. Today we sorted her books by size, color, and copywrite date, found lonely socks under her mattress where they slither away to hide from her sweaty night feet, and found her retainer container--which is a fun thing to say outloud.
Then I pulled the bed halfway out of the couch downstairs and had Haley crawl into the crack to dig out all the trash that the kids had stuffed in the couch to make it look like they NEVER eat in the livingroom. Then I vacuumed the mattress, and under it, and Haley's butt. IT WAS RIGHT THERE. What was I supposed to do? We rearranged the furniture back to where it was before that odd askew day last year when I wanted my ENTIRE life to be crooked just so that it would make more sense.
Then I had Emily help me clean her side of the bedroom she shares with Gina. It's nice to see their faces when they realize how much crap they keep and how much space there is when you throw away all of those crumpled up pieces of blank paper, broken toys, and dead mp3 players. I almost think they might dig through the trash can in the kitchen to save the things I've thrown away, cause I swear a couple of those mp3 players had already seen the inside of the trash can two years ago.
Ok, so now what do I do? This place is too small to clean forever. Maybe annoying the kids will be my new hobby. Hey Haley! Come here so I can vacuum you some more!
Saturday, November 28, 2009
And the BEST news is that the girls informed me last night that they have Monday off from school. WHAT??? Monday isn't a holiday?! I'll bet the teachers decided they just couldn't handle seeing kids so soon after having to be thankful and wanted to hold off reality just a little longer.
So here I am stuck with them one more day and I can't shut myself in my bed and curl up on the side he slept on and pretend he's still here. Because they come in every 30 seconds with excuses like: Can I have a piece of bread? or Can I call Grandma? Or Emily has been on the Wii 2 hours and 28 minutes longer than me! I know they really just need to know where I am and what I'm doing every second so they feel secure that I'm not upstairs crying.
Besides, they pick on me when I cry.
It's not the End of the World Mom.
Yes, yes it is. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
Friday, November 27, 2009
I hope he had an interesting trip
- escaping across the border and back, and across and back
- listening to my father name every tree on his 27 acre tree farm, the bear scratched tree, the racoon's home tree, the stump from the tree he cut down in 1976
- while the girls and I walked behind with our sacred sticks and fern crowns, bowing to the sacred stumps and moss and trees and puddles and noisily mocking Grandpa
- watching Gina catapult a pencil into her own eye
- making too-perfect icicles on the gingerbread house
- visiting the Magic Red Button
- trying to use nudity and cesspool in the same sentence on a Facebook status update
- watching people at the liquor store buy beer in shopping carts like real Vermonters do
And of course the second he left the November storm blew in and now I'm back to being stuck in the house with a girl who keeps popping out her retainer to swear at me properly and a girl who doesn't realize she's pmsing when she yells at me about how bored she is. ERGH.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
But now he's still in bed and the kids just went off to school so I snuck on here to post something quickly before he realizes that I'm missing.
We went out with Abrah and Bill Saturday night and things worked out better than I planned. Here's a quick run-down:
- Having the same part of the same thumb missing because of a woodworking accident makes you as good as TWINS.
- As long as there are plenty of quarters men are happy.
- Calling it man-scent doesn't make it smell any better.
- Bill is my new picker and as odd as that sounds, if he's comfortable enough to talk non-stop for 6 hours then something must be right. :)
- Blue cheese can be deadly.
- Hard cider DOES have alcohol and I can't believe I was the first person EVER to order that.
- There are at least 5 ways to get there from here--and all of them are the same distance.
- Vermont has ALOT of roads but FEW people
- Which is a GOOD thing because there are a lot of intersections I just don't know how to navigate. I think the locals set it up that way just to prove that we're not from there.
- I DRIVE ALOT.
- No matter how I look at all the details I just don't want to spend the rest of my life without him.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Well, I've spent the last week stretching out all of my clean jeans and putting them back in the drawer so that when HE gets here I can just slide into them like they fit perfectly instead of all the usual heavy breathing and swearing. I realize in writing this just how insane I am.
Well, this morning I opened the drawer to see if there were any I hadn't softened up yet and a pair was missing. So I went into Haley's room and there they were. She'd been wearing them. She stole the jeans I worked so hard to make comfortable and wore them! All that hard work gone to waste!
I know WHY. She isn't allowed to wear jeans with rips and holes to school. And she ruins her clothing. She also buys skin tight ones and I'll bet mine are just so much more comfortable, BECAUSE I DID ALL THE WORK!
So I'm going out to buy myself new jeans now and she can just keep stealing my old ones!
She's like the anti-pants FAIRY, taking away my best pants so that I can't wear them. I hope the two of them meet and have a huge BLOODY battle and she learns that you can't just give pants and have someone else take them away. Not without the wrath of a mom who likes her pants to have some breathing room. Next time maybe I'll make her do all the work--as PUNISHMENT.
Monday, November 16, 2009
I was reading the April Flores interview on her sex column and then started watching the video, which is a nice photo shoot with porn-ish music playing in the background.
But let's back up for a minute to about 3 weeks ago when the MAN decided to buy me a webcam and send it to me so that we could keep in touch. I immediately assumed a webcam would mean porn and made it clear there would be no porn. NONE. I guess American Pie was on my mind. Using the camera isn't as bad as I thought it would be--it's all nice and blurry and very forgiving. Perfect for my need to remain anonymous.
So here I was watching this ahem photo shoot (because she's all round and not stick thin and it was just such a relief to see someone who is a real size do this and look good) and he called me on gchat. It rings like a phone from the gmail page. I minimized April's window and accepted his call. And then realized that the MUSIC WAS STILL PLAYING.
He asked what I was watching.
"Um, nothing" was the best thing I could come up with! I own all of these words. ALL OF THESE WORDS. And I said "um, nothing."
And then my face turned red.
And although the webcam is slightly blurry and weak, I'll bet he knew. Yes, I was looking at another woman in her underwear. I don't know why at that moment I couldn't just say it. I admit it.
This morning I woke up at 5:30 again and started going about my morning of shoving everyone in the car with everything they needed. Then I suddenly realized that I didn't know if the girls' appointments were today or tomorrow. Of course, these weren't written on my calendar because I didn't remember long enough to write it down.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
There is absolutely nothing funny going on. The kids watch Spongebob for hours. I didn't know he had a cousin whose name is Stanley and he acts an awful lot like Haley, going from one thing to another and creating havoc and explosions.
I have washed everyone's bedding (That's like 10 loads of laundry) and I found 6 dollars in people's pockets and I used a Magic Eraser on Haley, but she's still here.
And my dog ate something nasty and her stomach keeps making terrible noises that squeal and gurgle and sound like there's an alien puppy growing in her stomach. She keeps farting and looking pathetic and embarrassed.
I miss the ghetto and all the things I had to complain about. All I can complain about here is how they grow immensely huge and fast spiders that only come out at night and strreak across the livingroom floor.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Now I realize those were just the schizophrenic thoughts of a tired mind. It was all true until the other kids went to school and I sat down to write an email. Then I saw the disconnect between my head and my hands. As soon as I started to type I lost the ability to think of words. Crash and burn. Coffee is not helping.
But I do have to say that I found a new pair of pants hanging in my closet with the tags still on that I must have forgotten about. I was a little afraid to try them on because sometimes I buy things without trying them first and then later I realize that I'd have to lose my pudge or let it hang over the top. I stuff those pants in the back of my closet and try to pawn them off on people. Or plan on finding my abs by spring and put them in a box marked "summer pants" along with all the other pants I've never worn but take out once in a while to admire.
These pants fit so well. They must have come from the Pants Fairy. As much as I ABHORE shopping, especially for pants--there is NO WAY I would have had the patience to find these myself. My ass looks good. My pudge is under control. Ahhhhhhhhhh.
Yes, I do believe in the Pants Fairy now. And I'm sure he's a gay guy with slender transparent wings and rosy cheeks who sneaks pants into the closet of people who willingly drive their kids to school at 6:15 in the morning. I'll be waiting for him tomorrow morning.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Today wasn't as bad but it still was bad. I had to go to fishing first then I had to walk up to riflery and then I had to walk back down for sailing then I had to walk back up line up walk back down for lunch walk back up for cabin time walk back down for kayaking then walk back up for farm and garden then walk down for dinner walk back up for poetry then we go to sleep. I miss you.
Runaway James (to the tune of Runaround Sue)
Here's my story, its sad but true
It's about a boy that I once knew
He took his stick then ran around
To every pool hall in town
Ah, I should have known it from the very start
This boy will leave me with a broken heart
Now listen people what I'm telling you
A-keep away from-a Runaway james
I miss his books and his pajama pants
His voice as he asks for just one more chance
So if you don't wanna cry like I do
A-keep away from-a Runaway James
Ah, he likes to travel around
He'll love you but he'll put himself down
Now people let me put you wise
He goes out with other guys
Here's the moral and the story from the one who knows
He'll leave so fast that he'll forget his clothes
Ask any fool that he ever knew, they'll say
A-Keep away from-a Runaway James
He likes to travel around
He'll love you but he'll put himself down
Now people let me put you wise
James goes out with other guys
Here's the moral and the story from the one who knows
He'll run so fast that he'll forget his clothes
Ask any fool that he ever knew, they'll say
A-Keep away from-a Runaway James
So besides rewriting songs and laughing about them I also have decided that I do in fact have hobbies. I may not hunt or fish or make anything right now (unless this song counts) but I do like vampires. Vampires are a hobby. And I like wine. And I do like to bitch sometimes. That's a hobby. I wear sweatpants too, which is this new hobby I just picked up a couple of month ago when I stopped caring about what I look like when I'm at home. And I am really good at loud sighing. I'm just full of hobbies!
How did Haley get to school if one of her new shoes is under the coffee table??? I'll bet she forgot to put shoes on. I'd better go find her.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Today I got the birthday present I bought myself through the mail. I am now feeling supported and separated, lifted and somehow thinner. Is this really where the boobs are supposed to be? I keep hitting my chin on them and I can definitely see the six pack of small rolls where my abs should be but aren't. When not dragging against my knees they look really HUGE. I am so amazed that I keep looking down and then feeling them, cause I can't quite believe they're mine.
I took Haley to Dartmouth yesterday where her doctor (who I LOVE) thought there's a good chance most of her issues are caused by a sleep disorder. So she filled out the paperwork (one piece of paper) for a referral to the sleep clinic to at least rule this out before we go the ADHD route. She said that when she faxes these down to the sleep people they somehow lose them and so she wanted us to walk it down (2 buildings over and 3 floors down) and hand it to them in person. When we found the sleep clinic all the doors were shut and because it's a small city I finally decided to enter the business office.
The three women who were sitting there chatting were AGHAST that I would walk in. They spoke ANGRY INTEROFFICE language at me that sounded something like "You can't hand this to us! You have to send it by interoffice doctor transportalator facsimile machination" and each one looked up at the sky (or ceiling) like whatever it was lived above us. So maybe they meant I had to talk to God first, and when I refused and said "The doctor said to walk it down here and hand it to you" they were even more AGHAST that I would refuse to bow down and worship this thing they so feared and revered. "The doctors keep doing this to us, instead of using the interoffice doctor transportalator facsimile machination," they said to me so that I would be on their side of the interoffice schism. And maybe I was or maybe I wasn't, I didn't really care as long as the paper got to where it was going.Then they just looked at me like I should apologize for bring this nasty piece of paper to them. I turned to the one nearest me and asked politely "I have no idea what you are talking about, but can you please get this to where it's supposed to be."
She took it from me and said that she would fax it upstairs so that it would be faxed back down to her, the way things are supposed to work in the hospital. If this order was not kept apparently the whole system would fall apart. I don't doubt that she made a paper airplane out of it and threw it down the elevator shaft after I left. And I now realize that she may have been merely following the Pathetics on the Way to Gof, in which case I commend her attempt at trying to make me feel like she was doing me a huge favor and as long as the paper made it up to God and back I'm okay with it.
The third thing that happened was what I found when looking back through the history on my laptop to find a walkthrough for LOTR for Emily that she looked at on Thursday. I haven't seen so many bizarre sites since the days of Joe and Jim in my basement. No, no, no! I wish I'd never seen those pictures. When I was a kid you had no access to these things and now all you have to do is find the five minutes when MOM has locked herself into the bathroom and type Animal Porn into google and there it is!
Can you tell that they've been home sick all week and I haven't had a break since a week ago Friday?
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
I don't believe in forgiveness for things like this. Not even that old forgiveness is for yourself bullshit. There was no reason for any of this to happen. No excuse. You knew exactly what you were doing to me by making me make that choice and by keeping me running and poor. I am not sad that he died Monday night, on the full moon, as any black cat should. He was old and it was good that he died in his sleep. I am angry that I couldn't spend his last 2000 days with him, that I had to sacrifice him in order to leave you. The cost was impossibly high and my soul is forever scarred.
"MOM!" she exclaimed.
And I knew what she was thinking. She had found another crazy piece of highly processed food, created in the weird image of Jesus, or miniature like that flour tortilla, or musical like a carrot, or bumpy like the badly twisted pretzel. She had found a cheesenip that would join Jesus on the holy shelf of all things weird and not to be eaten.
I looked at it. I looked some more. I couldn't see anything weird about it, except that a corner had broken off, leaving the cheesenip as a rough triangle shape. She flipped it over and over in her hand, until she saw that the edge was indeed ragged and not accidentally shaped that way by an error of the cheesenip manufacturers.
She was SO disappointed. But I laughed and laughed and laughed and then bit the corners off more cheesenips to show her how it's done. This cheesenip would not be joining Jesus and neither would the others.
She was so offended by my laughter that she then confused herself for a cheesenip and said "But I thought that the Gina was special."
Yes the Gina is special. The cheesenip is not.
Monday, November 2, 2009
But that's not really the digusting thing I wanted to talk about tonight. The truly disgusting thing is that my children don't want to talk to their father and so he sent me this tonight:
I am going to assume that your phone has been cut off. I will call you at work tomorrow to set up a way I can talk to my children.
At work? Seriously? Now, this appears to be a bluff but then sometimes he really does the things he says he's going to do. Like calling my employer to tell them I'm selling crack in the parking lot. And maybe that time he said he was going to call the financial aid office at the college I was going to to tell them I had inherited money from my dead Grandmother so that they wouldn't give me grant money.
All she left me was a Rubik's Cube.
Is he really going to call a counseling center? In his demented head this forces me to
- Do what he says, which is to force the girls to talk to him on the phone which makes me a hypocrite and a bad parent
- Tell everyone at work all about him in case he does call
- Live with the anxiety that at any minute he could start calling my work over and over and over and tell them I'm selling crack in the parking lot.
The problem with this twisted manipulative plan of his is that THEY ALREADY KNOW. I tell everyone I work for and with, all my friends, every school my children go to, the mailman, the street cleaner, and the guy who wears the orange vest and directs traffic at deserted intersections.
It's true that some people do believe his stories. But I don't need those people anyway. They are easily bought and suckered. I need people like the police chief in my town who listened to my ex talk about how he was moving to my town and they needed to be prepared because "something is going to happen"--and thought he was completely off the wall.
So yeah, call my place of work. I just hear MC Hammer in my head singing "Can't Touch This" which is very bizarre but so true.
Oh, and I spilled my wine on the carpet in a moment of spaz, not unlike Meg Ryan who throws the best fits in movies I have ever seen. I admire that.
I was surprised to have a male hygienist this time. It feels a little personal to have a man looking in my mouth. They've looked in other places--but never there. He was a very short little man and when he stopped quickly and I tripped over him in the hall I reached out to steady him. Sorry little man for hurting you. When he put on his weird sci fi surgeon style goggles I closed my eyes so that it wouldn't seem so intimate. I thought he'd be timid and gentle, the way other male doctors and other professionals usually are. (Except that surgeon I went to, let's not forget that incident!)
And then the pain began. A half hour cleaning turned into an hour of torture. Okay, he was good. And vicious. I practiced deep breathing. I counted to ten instead of slapping his goggles right off his close little face. I wondered if he did this to children as well. I wondered if anyone ever requested him. I tried not to cry. I thought about happier times. I kept telling myself it could only last so long.
Not entirely unlike other intimate moments with men.
I now have a healthy fear of the dentist.
Thank goodness he didn't decide to become a gynecologist instead.