I will take Under Pressure for $500, Alex.

Answer is…

What I eat for breakfast every morning.

Question is…

Why?

I realized that I haven’t kept up my end of this bargain lately.  I haven’t exposed my inner most thoughts and demons out here on the WorldWideWeb in a month.

Did anyone miss me?

I haven’t been witness to much stupid in the world lately, which I gotta admit, is bringing me down.  But the cup has runneth over in the pressure and stress fountain for the past couple of weeks.

I thought that moving to a small town, getting some fresh air (phew!) and distance from my stressors would be good, would be healing.

It wasn’t.

The Whirly Girl and I have parted ways.  It’s been heartbreaking and eye opening all at the same time.  The things we fought about in the “big city” came with us, but what didn’t were the distractions from them.  So now, we were fighting all the time about the same shit we fought about before the move.  And I hit.a.wall.

No, it’s never a feel good moment when you blow someone you love and you envisioned your life with completely apart.  I don’t know how two people, so close, can have such vastly different ideas of how the relationship is going.  And I had to face it, deal with it and try to start healing from it.

It’s done.  Everything out in the open.  I have found that I DO have emotions and apparently I had tears until I cried every last one of them out of my body over the past two weeks.  I have found that I am probably one of the alternately compassionate and yet dick-ish people out there.

I don’t want to hurt anyone.  I can’t fake what I don’t feel and found that I was stifiling my self, editing what I was saying for the sake of not hurting somone else.  I haven’t done that since I moved out on my own at 18 and began resenting the hell out of the role of Peacekeeper. 

I have become a Blurter. You know, one of those folks who will take it and take it until they can’t take it anymore and then blurt out the truth, and in one simple sentence, blurt the truth and blow my world, her world and their world completely to pieces.

Yeah, it’s kinda sucked to walk in my shoes.

I have had people pulling at me for various and unsundry reasons since the whole breakdown of my relationship started.  What I have learned are there are some truly selfish folks in my world that I had thought were my friends.

In particular, I have one friend, who leaned on me through their breakup.  Daily, almost hourly.  I was there.  I lended comfort, compassion and support to them.  Now it’s their turn to be in my corner and they have gone MIA…if it wasn’t for Facebook updates, I would have by now, contacted the FBI to report a Missing Person.  But this person is just all about them.  No room for anyone else.

I have found strenghth in specific friends that makes me feel better.  I have found in this group of three (count ‘em) THREE people that I am loved, treasured and they support me, center me and keep me calm in this storm that I created. 

On top of the move, then the boy starting school, the adapting to really early mornings and traffic, the breakdown of communication between me and Whirly, the stress of the Daughter flailing around an hour away from me just about put me over the edge. 

I have learned that I have an uncanny ability for adaptability.  I am going to be testing the son’s adaptability in the coming months and I hope that he gets his sweet disposition and willingness to change from me.  That his sweet nature won’t be affected because mommy follows her heart.

There aren’t words to help heal the pain and disappointment I have caused.  “I’m sorry” doesn’t seem to be enough and it’s the only thing I can think to say anymore.  It just sucks. 

Me, at a loss for words.  Shocking…

No, it’s really none of my business. Honestly.

So, today, I have seen on the internet SEVERAL times the story about MacKenzie Phillips and her pops. 

Gotta tell you…I feel the need to shower…yeah, that dirty.

There are just somethings that don’t need to EVER be said, published discussed, drawn or mimed.  This would be one.

I have a hard time with the lack of decency in society.  I personally have lived my own episode (or two) of Jerry Springer…yet, I would like to think, this chick has reformed.

I don’t lay all my shit bare to folks.  I have a select few that I can and will talk to (ad nauseum) and will listen to. 

I have neighbors, friends, acquaintances, co-workers, lawn dude, etc., that will tell me the most personal, ridiculous stuff.  I mean PERSONAL.  what is that?  Do they not know they will become fodder for this here blog?  Do they not know I will mock them?  Ok, Ok, I may change their names or a detail or two, but surely they will see themselves out here.

Point is.  Don’t talk about stuff that is gonna make others go “Oh My!” and shuffle off.

• Don’t tell folks you willingly slept with your dad.  (eww, eww, and EWWW!!!)
• Don’t tell folks you would sleep with your mother if she wasn’t your mom.  (This was way gross!!!!)
• Or your brother.
• Nevermind about the sister, cousins, aunts, uncles….if it genetically linked, I don’t wanna know!!!
• Don’t tell folks you AREN’T sleeping with about your STD’s…it will get you uninvited to EVERYTHING.

Now, I am not a prude, I fly my freak flag proudly, but damn…I don’t wanna know about your bowel movements, monthly cycle, back acne, deviant practices (errr…..wait…).  Leave some of it at home. 

There are lots of these blogs out here, for creative and non-creative folks.  Everyone gets the chance to share their thoughts, feelings, desires, dreams, and it’s great.  Every once in a while, I will stumble onto one, read a few sentences, get that look on my face like I was sucking on a lemon and hit the “X” in the corner.  Ewwww….

For it to gross me out…that takes ALOT.  I mean ALOT!!!!

I got the sensibilities of an 18-year-old boy and the sense of humor of a 12-year-old.  I love dirty jokes, laugh at people falling, farting or burping.  You know, good clean humor. 

My dad used to tell me….“Steph, leave some of it to the imagination.”

The man was a genius.  And because of it…I have a great imagination.  So, you can skip the meaty parts of some stories, I can make it up .  All on my own.

If I need help, buh-lieve me….I will ask, then we can discuss.

How do you know?

I had a conversation today with a co-worker about love.  And how you know when you have found The One.  And is it possible that everyone has A One? 

She’s been married three times, all three times, it was The One.  And now…she’s on her own again.  Younger than me, she wanted to know…how do you know?

Now, I am not claiming to be an expert on ANYTHING.  I mean, I have sent my one marriage down in flames.  I have children that one day I fear will put me in Shady Pines and forget me.  I can’t seem to hold much together for more than about 30 seconds before it combusts in front of me, but she got me thinking.  How did she go left, when she thought she was going right.

Attraction is a funny thing.  I personally don’t think you can choose who you are attracted to, it just happens.  There’s no rhyme or reason, sometimes, it just happens.  Take me for instance.  My WHOLE life, I was the “straight girl”.  I was boy crazy and never once thought, “hmmmmm….I like me some girls.”

And wham!  Enter Whirly. 

I have always said, to Whirly’s consternation, that I would be in love with her whether she was male or female.  I just fell in love with her.  Who she is, what she made me feel.  Imagine my fear, panic, paranoia and all out nervous breakdown when I realized “oh, holy shit!  SHE’S a girl.  Now what do I do?!?”

And truth be told, I went with it.  It seemed natural to me to love her.  To end up here.  And I have never once regretted my decision. 

As I told my co-worker this story, she nodded.  “I get that.  I thought I was there.  Then I met him.  And then, I felt more for the new guy.”

I can’t explain it.  She’s a “butterfly chaser.”   You know, that high in the beginning.  That rush of not being able to quit thinking about the other person.  That NEED for that person.  She is addicted to the butterflies.

I know that feeling.  The butterflies.  We all do (I hope, I hope).  It’s intoxicating.  And necessary to the start of any relationship.  You know…that rush….

What should be left is not the NEED for the other person.  But the WANT.  You NEED oxygen to survive.  You can’t live without it.  You WANT to be with the other person.  All the time.  It’s about choice. 

Any choice starts as an attaction of some sort.  Free will and all. 

You see a person, new or known, and something catches your eye.  Something snags your attention and you can’t seem to stop.  Then you start to feel it…the butterflies.  What you do with that, is your free will.

Everyone has that choice, to see where the butterflies lead you.  To see if what you are feeling has legs.  To see if the other person reacts the same way.  If they do, then you are off to a great start.  If not, cut your losses, move on.  You can’t force anything or anyone.  In doing so, you end up looking like a fool and feeling like an even bigger one.

Personally, when I feel it, I feel it.  I can’t explain it.  It’s about trust.  Of myself, of the other person and of my intuition.  I will however try to push it completely away…I will test it, I will deny it and I will question it, over and over.  Until I get comfortable with it, and then I will let.it.roll.

That person could be standing right in front of you.   And what you are feeling could be exactly what you were looking for.  Right then, right there.  It’s up to you to seize the moment, move on it and take it where it leads. 

Her comment then was, “what if the person isn’t with who they are supposed to be with?  What if you are their One and they are not free?”  (ah-ha!  the whole reason this conversation was karmically thrust upon ME just came to light!)

My simple response is, was, will be…if it’s meant to be, it will just happen.  Neither one of you will be able to stop it, to deny it…it will just be there.  

It would be like trying to stop a freight train with your bare hands.

I have never once regretted anything.  I never will.  I love where I am and what I am.  I have made my choices and will continue to make my choices based on one thing.  Me.  That can never lead me wrong. 

right?

truth be told…

I am truly beginning to be lieve that I was born to a traveling circus family and that the family that raised me simply thought I was cute, so they played the coin toss game until they won me.

there is no way I am born to the sheer drama that invades every part of my life.  I swear to all that I find holy, that I have to have a drama magnet surgically implanted in my body.  (And my dad thought it was a bum magnet!  pfftp!!!)  If someone, ANYONE has drama, it finds it way to my doorstep for dinner, a shower and a good nights sleep…

I am hanging a “No Vacancy” sign on my ass.  Maybe one from my forehead too, so you can see it coming and going.  Just to get the point across.

The Drama Inn is now closed.  Take your bullshit and unncessary hand wringing, head spinning drama and go elsewhere.

I have given up on caring about the stupid things in other people’s lives.  CONSIDERING they obviously care so little about me, respecting me, honoring our friendships, our familial ties, or common bonds.

I am going to teach myself to look out for myself, simply because there are MANY in my orbit, that seem to look out for noone other than themselves and I can’t deal with selfish folks anymore.

That was my New Year’s Resolution.  To put me first.  I did for about a week…then the mutts came back…

I feel like I should be on mood altering medication.  That I need to be on something to stabilize me.  My ups and downs happen in the same days sometimes and it’s wearing me out.  I have in the past taken medicine to help with the crazies, through my separation and divorce, and truth be told, if I hadn’t had Lexapro in my corner, my kids may have tied me up and put me in a closet. 

I am “better” now, I can see that things seem out of my control.  I can see however, that it’s my anger, my hurt and my low tolerance for all things drama that have me here.

It is exhausting and I feel like most days, I am on the crazy train and everyone around me is normal….I am the crazy one thinking I am normal, they are crazy.  I have asked this question of friends, the whole “Am I the crazy one?  Am I the one who is nuts and can’t see it?” 

I have been assured that it’s not me.  Which may either mean my friends are scared to tell me the truth or they are just as crazy as I am.

eh, whichever.  it works.

I am angry that I am not of a family that the bonds go deep.  There are three women left in my family and we will tear at each other and blame each other and cast aspersions upon each other with great regulatrity. 

Truth be told, I am pea green with jealousy of those who have close relationships with their  families based on mutual trust, respect and love.  I am jealous of those who WANT to be silly and have those moments…you know…those “candid camera moments” where everyone looks happy to be related and to be together…

I know we love each other but any semblance of trust and respect went out the door years ago.  Which is so very sad to know…even sadder to actually own up to it in writing.

I am angry that I can’t let go of the anger.  That it’s beginning to define me.  As hard as I try to rise above the BS that is associated with being one of the Three Stooges, I can’t for very long. 

Even now, as I am typing this, I keep going back, editing, removing things, because if I say the wrong thing or “out” anyone specific, all hell will break loose and it will be my fault because folks around me can’t act right.  Because to own their part, to apologize and TRULY move beyond it, would mean to GROW UP and who really wants to do that anyways?

I do!

Truth be told, I have “friends” in my life that I am probably better off without as well.  “Friends” that will proclaim that they support me, they will be there for me, no matter what, then they forget my birthday.  Or my favorite….send me a Happy Birthday on Facebook.  Because that’s personal….because that took you all of 20 seconds and everyone else thinks your great…however, I got a Facebook Happy Birthday and wasn’t even worth the effort of a phone call.

“Friends” who call me when they need to vent, when they need $20 bucks (or more…), when they need an “alibi” for their indescretion.  Yeah, “friends”.  These are the same people who when they do call, don’t remember I have kids or that I have moved…yeah, those friends.

Explain to me why I keep putting energy into people who don’t do the same for me?

I was told it’s because I am a fixer.  And I believe the friend that said this was correct.  (you know who you are, thank you!)

I will never claim  to be the perfect daughter, sister, mother or friend.  I forget birthdays, I don’t return phone calls.  But I am all about unconditional love, honor & respect.  If I give these to you, they are yours until you abuse them….then you have to earn them.

I guess I have to look at me.  Why I keep allowing people who have abused this unconditioanl love, honor & trust to keep coming back.  Why I keep letting them back in.  Why I can’t give up on them the way they give up on me and each other.

Why can’t I be as insincere and oblivious to other’s pain as these friends and family are to mine.

Truth be told, I need some distance.  I need some space.  I need to get some clarity and get some folks out of my life. 

It’s self-preservation mode I guess.  I feel shut down and locked up and it sucks.   The only thing I have going for me is when I get surly, my biting humor gets a bit darker and for some reason, folks just find it funnier when I am in a funk!!!

Who knew that surly and humorous were synonomous?

Truth be told, I miss the happy shiny me.  I miss looking in the mirror and liking who I see.  I miss the sound of my own laugh, knowing that in that moment….the world was sunshiny and fresh. 

Where’s Mr. Rogers when you need him?

Truth be told…I can’t change anyone and to change me means I have to look at me.

Good thing I gots this here blog…because then I can bore you with all the scary self revalations….

yup, that red “X” in the corner is your exit, should you choose to take it.

Is this what it feels like when you hit that brick wall?

Cause let me tell you…it sucks.

I have been in a pretty good place lately.  Not letting the drudge of reality truly affect me too much.

I should have known better.

After our vacation, things have been, well, off.  Not bad, but not uncomplicated.  I could manage it, I could deal with it, but it’s just seemed to have a flat spot.

let’s see….(this is gonna get rambly and grumpy, so buckle up)

The niece got really sick and had a fever for several days.  To the point of hospital visits, ER visits and worried mommy and auntie…she’s SOOOO MUCH better now, but it was leaving early and taking long lunches for me, I have an understanding boss, but I was pushing.

Apparently, a bit too much.  As things go, I have it pretty well at the job.  I am good at what I do and I like what I do.  After a rocky start, I actually like my boss;  he’s a good guy.  I let my loyalty stand in the way of discovering this for the first few months, but I realized my loyalty to my friend doesn’t (1)pay my bills and (2)affect whether or not I respect and like the guy.  So I put on my big girl panties and got over it.

It’s still embarassing, at almost 40 years of age, the boss has to tell me to figure out what I need to focus on.  Because he needs me here and needs to depend on me.  Yeah, I have taken a bit of here and there; yeah, my work is done…but he can’t DEPEND ON ME?  oh!  that’s the button.

Someone can’t depend on me…I almost dropped my heart on the floor when he said that…from embarassment and from dread, that I am not dependable…the horror!!!! 

He corrected me, he can depend on me, my work is excellent, but he knows I am capable of more than I am doing, more in my capacity as a manager.  I know he’s right, which makes me madder at myself because I have no one to blame but me. 

I have to re-prove, again, that I am committed to my job.  It’s not in jeopardy, he strongly stresses to me.  He doesn’t want me to quit or leave, nor am I being written up or even verbally reprimanded.  He wants to make sure I am here.  which just fuels me EVEN more.  ugh!

urgh!

or there’s always this old gem….

I have a daughter that is moving into her first apartment in two weeks.  TWO WEEKS!!!!  That alone is causing major stress on me for two reasons (1) she doesn’t have a car and (2) she hasn’t saved two dimes. 

In all my years as a parent, I have tried and tried to instill some responsibility in my children.  My daughter has fought me every step of the way. 

I haven’t seen much of her since then, she is gone every night and hasn’t begun packing.  I try to talk to her, but at this point, anything I say sound as if I am controlling her and the situation (her words) so I don’t or we are in a nasty, NASTY fight…the kind from two weeks ago that got her put out of the house for the night.  (good thing her bestie is a block away). 

I don’t fight back anymore, because I don’t want it to end that way.  I don’t want her last weeks at home to be remembered by how much we fought.  And she is completely taking advantage of it.   I need a break from it. 

I ache when I think of how much I will miss her, how empty it will feel, but we both need the space.  She needs to get out, on her own and learn that it’s not all handed to you. 

I feel enormous guilt because I can’t provide her with a car, but our rent is $300 MORE per month than my house payment, willingly paid each month to keep her close to her friends so she can graduate with them. 

Help me out here…$300 x 24 months = $7,200.00.

There’s your car.  Enjoy.

But she doesn’t see it that way.  And it’s been hard to explain that Whirly took a lower paying job to be home in the afternoons.  That Whirly pays HER bills, but I am responsible for them.  It doesn’t math out for the daughter, who thinks that I have put Whirly ahead of all others and that the daughter has suffered because I didn’t have the funds to provide a vehicle to the ONLY STUDENT IN HIGH SCHOOL to not have a car.

This is the same student who went to every dance in a new outfit, every banquet, every concert and party she wanted. 

The only thing I made her responsible for was her cell phone.  She’s had a job for two years and overdrafts her account more than the government does…

and yet, I am the designated dumpee….

and stay tuned for the newest ballad…

I have a family member in the midst of a “holy shit” moment…a huge issue that as much as it isn’t my battle, I find I keep getting drawn into it.  Even when I actually say the words “I don’t want to be part of this.”  I find that I am, because that’s family.  Yet, I want help.   And it seems to not be offered, even in the smallest of doses.  Because WE all need to help.  WE all are part of this family WE all need to maybe change our plans, adjust our needs and get this taken care of.  The sooner, the better.

As it stands, I will be changing my plans, I will be adjusting my needs and Whirly and I will help get it taken care of.  No thanks to others.  Sadly friends and friends OF friends are stopping, dropping and helping.  With no hidden agenda.

and finally…

…we are moving, already given our notice to the landlord and as of this moment, do not have a home.  BECAUSE the one we liked, the one we thought was ours, well…my credit sucks and that is the end of that.

We do have a contingency plan, another one we like too, but it’s not the one that we liked the best.  It’s the one we liked first and the son is stoked over it, so that’s a bonus.

If I can get the guy to call me back.  eeeeekkk!!!!!!

Because right now, in a month, I am homeless.  And the son starts school in 6 weeks. 

His acceptance of this is paramount to me.  He has to be happy where we move because it’s gonna be his home.  And I don’t want him to feel left out of decisions.  He’s got enough on his plate dealing with a douchebag dad and family that can lay a guilt trip on him like no one else.  At no point should a 10 (almost 11 mom!) year old feel guilty for being loved.  Nor should he feel an ounce of hurt because someone can show an ounce of comfort, support and love for him.  I mean, someone other than me…cause that’s soooo uncool!

Did I mention in the last 10 days the boy has had an earache and now pink eye….?  yeah….

It’s all starting to pile up on me.  All the pressure.  No, I can’t fix it all, but everyone looks to me, calls me, wants me there…so no, I don’t want to, I want to say “get away from me, leave me be….”  but I can’t.  I got too many people who can’t seem to function without me.  And I am beginning to not function well at all.

if I don’t, I fear no one will.  Then I have to clean up what is left behind, because these folks in my orbit can’t clean up after themselves. 

That big brick wall is looming faster and faster in front of me…please Lord, put a door in it before I get there…

I need my faith now, more than ever…I need to feel it get me through these times, simply because…

I am frightened.

you say it like it’s a BAD thing.

so…Benny thinks I rock.  which is cool, since there’s not too many times in one’s life that you are actually told you deserve an award…

It may be a I Picked Your Blog Award, also known as the NosePicker Award, but it fits me.  no, not because I pick my nose, but because in receiving it, I have to talk about me.

And let’s face it, this blog is all about, well, talking about me.  Or things I find funny.  More ME.  Or how others make ME feel.  See the pattern?  

mememememememe

There are these rules that I have to follow.  Not that I am a huge rule follower, but when it comes to surveys or making lists of little eccentricities, I am all kinds of ho-ish….  (if you read this, then you already know it.) 

I have to list a few of my obsessions, which are random and weird…but is that a bad thing, really? 

So, let’s see.

I am FASCINATED with Baggo.  Otherwise known as Cornhole (In Kentucky, Ohio and Arkansas).   Actually, I am not obsessed with the game, because it’s essentially just throwing bean bags in a hole, cut in a board.  But I am obsessed with the American Cornhole Association (ACA) and that there are leagues and t-shirts.  I will find a way to work the word Cornhole into a conversation, especially if I have imbibbed an adult beverage in the pool.   I had hoped I would get a t-shirt for my birthday, but all I got was a stern lecture.  *sigh*

I am obsessed with mail order catalogs.  I love looking through them.  I rarely buy anything from them, but I will get a dozen or so a week and I will actually sit down and browse through them.  Because you never know when you will need ice cubes in the shape of a shot glass or bunion socks.  It’s helpful to know those items are merely a phone call away.

I am obsessed with locking the doors.  I firmly blame my enjoyment (is that the right word) with having the living shit scared out of me and the thought that Michael Meyers or Freddy Kreuger is going to come in through the front door and do me in.  I don’t care if you have SWORN on a stack of bibles that they have locked, double locked and triple checked the locks, I will get my sleepy self up and go check.  again. 

I am obsessed with porn.  Which sounds a lot dirtier than it should.  (I mean, CORNHOLE???  puh-leese!!!)  Not obsessed with WATCHING porn, but that people take it so seriously…they actually have their own version of the Oscars, which I find hysterical that the award isn’t more phallic, like, say, an ACTUAL Oscar which is gold and phallic.  But to admit this makes me sound all pervy and weird.  I find it crazy that these folks are called “actors” and “directors” and “stylists”, because basically, isn’t it just a bunch of folks running around, being, well, porny?

Which brings me to my all consuming obsession, which is just knowing IT.  Whatever IT maybe, I wanna know all about IT.  Thank GOD for Wikipedia!!!  I can spend hours reading, books, magazines, online, references, cross references, whatever.  If IT tickles my fancy, then I will read and read and read.  Alas, being a mommy doesn’t give me much time to think about IT or what IT is or where IT is going…but when the mood strikes, I will stick my nose in IT and not move until I get my fill of IT.  (is it me, or did this sound alot like dirty-ness?)

So for the three readers I have left that aren’t related to me after the last two admitted obsessions, thank you for sitting through this weird walk through the maze that is my mind.  It’s a tricky minefield to navigate, but at least I am a unique party guest, yes?

OH!  I need to tag and forward said NosePicker Award so the weirdness can march on…

Ursula(not so)Proper   – I am STILL waiting for new material!!!

Queenie’s Place             – This chick rocks!!!  And there is a drink in Florida with my name on it, according to Queenie.

Boobs, Injuries & Dr Pepper    - if for nothing else, the title alone.

Steam Me Up Kid     - I actually had drink come out my nose laughing at this blog!

Things that make me go hmmmm….today.

After my gut wrenching post yesterday, not that it’s not still a valid place for me…I decided to give back a little bit.  Remember that I said, I can still find stupid in the world?  And that stupid translates into phenomonally funny for me?  well…I decided to jot down a few free flowing funny ideas to share…so, HERE!!!

• I haven’t seen my unicorn-guy in a while.  Does it mean, once  I acknowledge him, he doesn’t exist, like leprachauns?
• Is it just me or does Daisy from Daisy of Love look like a Muppet?
• I love the Clinique Ginger Rose lipstick that I just got.  And why did Whirly’s mom send it to her?  Whirly doesn’t WEAR MAKEUP!  Go me!
• I am now fascinated with the game Baggo…not particularly the game, but the fact that in Kentucky and those parts, it’s called Cornhole and there is an American Cornhole Association!  Tanner called me obsessed…perhaps I am.
• Or the fact that saying American Cornhole Association makes me feel kind of durty and naughty.  And it makes me giggle every time.  Pervy Steph!!!
• Perhaps I need medication, like anxiety stuff.  But that makes me anxious thinking I need medicine.  It’s a conundrum, right?
• What is a conundrum exactly? 
• I think I need to move all the posts I have written about and for Tanner to their very own category, simply because shit like this doesn’t happen to anyone else I know.
• I miss my daddy.  He would help me find the unicorn-guy…and laugh about the ACA with me.  Well, he would after scolding me about being pervy…

hmmmmm……

Dancing with the Stars? puh-leese, check out this footwork!!!

it’s not easy, raising  one, two kids or twenty (Octomommy)….whether you are on your own, with a partner, husband, wife; whether you have grandparent and aunts and uncles galore…it’s HARD…damnit!

we have been playing the “Driver’s License Blues” for two years now…I have blogged about it several times…

this damn saga is almost at an end. ALMOST.

ok…so I am not convinced that she can handle the responsiblity, but at 18, I don’t have to give her permission to get THE license…just to drive MY car.  I fear that will be another battle for another day…

right now, we are now trying to get this license.  who knew it would be so difficult???

alas, the difficulty seems to stem almost primarily from the daughter’s stunning lack of focus (again  that’s a whole ‘nother battle) and my olympic styled stubborn streak…cause I can get a gold medal in stubborn.

So we started this saga two years ago…with the Drivers-Ed-In-A-Box (now referred to as “THE BOX”).   Because “Mom, it will be SOOOO much easier and cheaper.  I can help with driving and errands, etc.  I don’t want to go to All Star”

So we saved $25.00 and did THE BOX route…and well…it gave me a whole lot of power and a whole lot of aggravation.  I have learned that the daughter and I don’t do well in the car together.  I think she drives like crap and she thinks I make her nervous.  It’s a delicate dance the two of us do…

So, little did I know that she had to have her learners permit for six months prior to getting the license.  OK, we can do it. 

 

Trip #1.  We find when we get to the DMV that I didn’t get all the papers that I needed in THE BOX…so I had to file for new ones.

Trip #2…we go BACK with all the notarized papers from THE BOX and are NOW notified that she needs some stupid paper from Austin, so I send my $20 check and paperwork to Austin.  TWICE.  It takes upto 12 weeks for the DMV to get the paperwork, to get the PERMIT…we are now, 6 months into it…and somehow it’s my fault.  well, according to the Teenager.  We are getting ready to turn 17 WITHOUT a license or a CAR!!!!  (MOM!!!!!  it’s so embarrassing!!!!)  It’s a delicate dance the two of us do…

Trip #3.  We go back once the DMV can confirm that they have the paperwork necessary (I had to send papers from the BOX, copy of birth certificate and social security card with it.)  We are NOW told we need her original copy birth certificare (check!) and her social security card…uh-oh…the Teenager lost it.  she thinks…so we leave.  again…we are sitting at EIGHT MONTHS now…getting ready to turn 18….whoo-hoo…

we spend the next 4 months locked in a battle of wills, I won’t consider taking her until she gets her bank account “in the black” and she won’t consider saving money for a car she doesn’t have yet…it’s a delicate dance the two of us do…

Trip #4.  We go, with all the paperwork I can shove in my overnight duffle bag/purse for the day…voila!!!  we have all the paperwork…Maggie gets to take her written test…Halleujah!!!  we patiently wait to take the driving test when we are told that they will not be doing the driving test that day, they are booked for driving tests, we have to be there at dawn to get our place in line…

I am not sure at this point whose head will spin off first, mine or the daughters…but neither of us are “happy”.  The Teenager is now 18 and can by law, get her license without parental consent. 

So we have the written part done, the grandmother has offered to help me stop wasting vacation/mental health/sick days from my employer (who at this point is EXTREMELY understanding)  by taking the daughter to the DMV for the driving test.  This doesn’t work out…at all.

(Have I mentioned that I have to used my mothers vehicle as my insurance EXCLUDES the daughter in writing and I cannot add her until she has the license! good times!!!)

Trip #5.  FINAL TRIP to the DMV, right?  So we get the mothers car last evening and get up as soon as we go to sleep to get our spot in line this morning.   There are maybe 30 folks in front of us, not bad…only 20 or so for tests, others for moral support.  There is a father and his 18 year old son in front of us (important detail, will reveal itself shortly).  We are standing in this line, in the cold when the daughter lets this “nugget” of information eminate from her lips:

“I left my wallet with the DMV receipt and my paper copy in Best Friends car last night”

To which I reply:  “What??!!?

After I pick myself up off the ground (from passing the fuck out) I am immediately warm from the not-so silent fury I am feeling.  Eh…pretty quiet, but she knows I am pissed.

“Daughter, I don’t carry your birth certificate and social security card everywhere, what do you suggest that I do to help YOU GET YOUR LICENSE!!?!!?? I have mine!!!”

Then I get:  “I know MOM, but what do you want me TO DO ABOUT IT???”

An no, the words “I want you to get your head out of your ass” did NOT come out of my mout…until much later…accompanied by “you want to be an adult, the act like it!!”  to my mortification I realized I had become my mother and father rolled into one at that moment.  which made me soften..a bit…no, not really…

(Because somehow this too, is my fault!)

At this point, we aren’t speaking, the daughter, because she is mad at me (?) and me because I am cold, tired and just flat out pissy about the WHOLE THING!!!

So we get inside, where we try to ask twice about getting an afternoon appointment to come back today (cause I don’t need vacation time!) and get her driving test done.  We are told to stand in line and wait our turn to ask the question.

Now, for the father and son act…the Parental did as I did, and did THE BOX drivers training…alas, they do not have all the forms either, he is 18 so he is going down the same path as I, they give him an appointment for this afternoon to cut in line and take the driving portion to get this license…

no biggie, we can do the same right????  oh, no….not me….not mine…no, we are denied.

and then I hit my limit. 

I look at the Younger-Lady-Wielding-All-The-Power before me and simply point the the Father and Son SKIPPING out of the DMV and say as nicely as my blood pressure will allow:

“But you gave them an appointment for this afternoon, may I please have the same?  It was offered when I called on Thursday.”    [smile, blink! blink!]

to which the Younger-Lady-Wielding-All-The-Power responded:

“I work late on Thursdays, which is why I offered it to you and I don’t feel good today so I am not doing afternoon appointments, and besides HE WAITED IN LINE.”

ok…so I am at stroke level with the blood pressure and am digging my nails into my palm as I point out:

“He was right in front of me at 6:50 AM today.  Please?”

Halleujah….I got the appointment, with a glare from Younger-Lady-Wielding-All-The-Power and a snarky comment to her co-worker “I am ONLY setting up these two for this afternoon.  *heavy sigh!*”  

I would have offered to sell her my daughter or first grandchild at that point!

So I am leavin work shortly because my boss rocks and going back to the DMV in my mothers go-kart of a car to get the daughter her license. 

Then  I am heading for the vodka…she’s driving….

yes, it’s a delicate dance the two of us do…where’s my effin’ trophy????

 

P.S  Did I mention that Whirly’s mother and stepdad (my “in-laws”) are coming in today for the next couple of days…yeah…like THAT helps for my stress levels…whoo-freakin hoo…

P.P.S.  Special shout outs to my sister for talking me off the ledge this morning…without her, I would be the mommy of one, as I was very tempted to see how the “Safe Haven” laws in Texas were working for me…

P.P.P.S.  Special shout outs to the mother for have said go-kart…this car rocks.  4 cylinders and i hit 90 whilst thinking I was pushing 60…vroom vroom…

P.P.P.P.S.  Special shout outs to Whirly and Little Man…who are gonna have to put up with me later…

Ha-rumpf!

stream of conciousness

I need to rely on my faith.  I haven’t been.  I have been testing my faith and it’s not what I am supposed to do.  I am supposed to lean on it, celebrate it and float on it when necessary. 

As I have written many times, my faith is fundamental to my being.   I don’t have to explain it or justify it to anyone else.  I am here to celebrate it, share it and own it.  For some reason, I had put it on a shelf lately and ignored it.  And today, I had to sit, be still and reclaim it. 

THAT feels right.  And good.  And peaceful.

Lord, keep me close.  Show me your path for me.  Keep me on a short leash!

********

it’s been a while and I seem to have misplaced my sense of humor lately.  I figured out today, it’s because I am letting others rain on MY parade.  And that pisses me off.

I don’t like when people heap their bullshit upon other people and then walk away.  I don’t like being the person that gets bullshit heaped on me.  It usually stinks and lets face it….not many look good in brown.

I had me a good long talk with, well, me, on my way home from work today.  I have come to realize that I have been listening to the outside world more than my inside world.  Meaning, I am letting outside forces and folks dictate how I feel, how I relate to others and how I am handling stress.

I have made choices in my life to limit certain amounts of pain and anger into my life. 

So as such, here’s the “Ha-rumpf” List:

I can’t let my anger at others dictate my life.  My anger is directly linked to my passion.  Meaning, I can get passionately angry with someone or be angry with someone I am passionate about.   It’s a double-edged sword, my world….

See, passion for me, is more than about my lover.  It’s about my loved ones, my friends, my family, my faith, my hobbies….they all hold passion for me.  Something inside me burns to proctect them with all that I have.  It’s passion. 

Unfortunately, my passion rules my emotions, it dictates my logic at times….and my temper.

I have resolved to keep my passion a bit more in check.  A bit more reserved.  For the past month or so, I have let my emotions rule my world and its taking a toll on me.  I can’t let my anger with others affect me when it doesn’t bother them.  My love for those people doesn’t diminish, it just takes the disappointment in them to a grander scale.  And that’s where I get angry.  I don’t hold people in such high expectations that they can’t achieve them.  I expect you to be able to read, write and cut your own meat…

That’s about it.

Ahhhh….wait….I expect you to not be stupid.  Yes….there is my letdown…human nature and all…we all have a stupid gene.  It’s more dominant in some, recessive in others.

I can’t let other peoples insanity affect me any more.  I got folks all over the place doing insane things.  It doesn’t matter who, what or why…it’s not smart.

I choose not to put myself around insane people.  Like folks who think I can sit in a room with them and the GIANT FUCKING ELEPHANT and not acknowledge the elephant.  I have decided, good, bad or painful…I will no longer put insanity or the elephant in the room with me, I have a mouth on me and it’s just too much to sit and be silent.

I need to be quiet, sit back and let folks (a) make their mistakes and (b)clean up after they make their mistakes.  I can’t be responsible for you, your children, your relationships, your finances, your anything….it’s on each of you to do so yourselves.  

If you think you are the best parent, partner, money manger, etc. that you can be, then go with that.  Quit telling me how good you are at any of it, you are trying too hard to convince me, and I don’t think it’s me that needs convincing.  Good luck! 

I have my opinion, and like my dad said….”Opinions are like assholes, everyones got one and it usually smells like shit!”  I swear the man was a prophet….

my Ha-rumpf! lists consists of:

bye-bye anger….you wear me out

bye-bye drama…you too, exhaust even the saints

bye-bye elephant…you need to find peanuts elsewhere…the circus has left town…

Sixty Second ME!

this is my about me section from my  Facebook.  I was told that it was an extremely honest look at ones self.  I post it here, try it.  Take sixty seconds and tell the world who you are…you will be amazed at what you can say in a minute.

I am me. I am a daughter, a sister, a mother, a friend. I have hurt, been hurt, forgiven and loved. I am a sinner and I am faithful.

I think we can all be more tolerant, forgiving and better than we are….to ourselves and to each other. This Human Experience is for all of us to SHARE, to rejoice in and to embrace.

I am unforgettable to some and completely forgettable to others.

I am not the best person you will ever meet, but I am the person I am supposed to be right here, right now. Tomorrow I will be different.

I am completely comfortable in my skin. Love me or not, it’s all I have to offer.

Just when you think you know me, you don’t know me at all…