Epiphany

I had an epiphany whilst weaving through the hordes at Wal-Mart. But before I share, picture this...

Cart in grip and feet shuffling, I dodged the crowded aisle while making my selections and hoping for a short check out. Then it happened -- a crowded intersection between the children's clothes, cereal, and frozen freezer rack almost turned nasty. Seeing the accident waiting to happen, I hooked a quick left into the shoe department, rushed around the size 8 1/2 ladies pumps, and resumed my trek through the dairy department.

So, that light bulb moment I was telling you about? Well, folks, The Death Star isn't merely a cesspool of one stop shopping. No, no, and no. Now, it will forever and always remind me of... Pac Man.

Blinky, Pinkie, Inky, and Clyde = the shoppers, employees, children, and pallets destined to make you work. While the strawberry, banana, and cherry prizes are the sales that lure you into the pit of Hell in the first place.

I knew my stint as a reigning champ at the local skating ring would come in handy at some point in my life (still waiting for the fruits of my labor on Battle Axe). Please excuse me while I go call my father and inform him video games are in fact worth something.

That Time Again...

We got our first snow! It wasn't heavy, but was a beautiful sight just the same.

What Did You Expect?

My Mother-in-Law purchased tickets to A Christmas Carol for me and Arwen as a Christmas gift. I was incredibly excited, as it's been years since I've seen a play, and couldn't wait to make the trip.

As we walked inside the building, and waited for the doors to open, I saw not one, but two very small infants. Pushing aside what could possibly become a distraction, I took my daughter inside and purchased her a drink that she had to finish prior to taking our seat. All of the ticket holders were told as we entered, "No food or drinks in the auditorium". Yet, when we arrived, we sat next to a women with one of the aforementioned infants. And seated next to her was a child Arwen's age -- gulping down a cup of soda from the concession stand.

Really, I could go into the other things that occurred when the lights went down -- babies crying (and in their defense, with all the loud and unexpected pyrotechnics, I would be squalling too!), children kicking the back of our seat (after being politely asked to stop), food wrappers being opened, cell phones going off -- but I won't. The purpose of this blog isn't to delve into that. Rather, I'd like to address people who feel that my Mother-in-Law's gift (and money) is less important than what they obviously think is their God given right to be assholes.

What is wrong with people? I don't mean to be a downer, but I was flaggerbasted by the adults who brought food and drink into a place they were specifically asked not to. Then to add insult to injury, decided their phone conversations were so damned important they couldn't shut their Motorola off for an hour and a half to spare the rest of us saps a bit of sanity.

Sadly, the bitch within surfaced, and I not only said something to the woman's child who was kicking my seat (who refused to stop after several warnings), but I was also forced to explain to my daughter (within earshot of the child her age and the mother that refused to follow the rules) that some people don't have the sense God gave a cockroach.

It was only after my declarations that the idiots in my vicinity threw away their drinks, chided their heathen children, and allowed my daughter, Mother-in-Law, and me to enjoy the second half of the play in peace. Word to the wise, peeps. You don't want to be called out for being a douche, then don't be a douche! Seriously, what do you expect?

Here are a few pictures. The cast was wonderful enough to pose for pictures and to give autographs. It's a shame they had to perform with cell phones blaring and babies screaming.

Madness!

December 1st in our home marks the descent into the chaos that is Christmas. That's not to say we don't love the holiday, or that Christmas music isn't blasting from the stereo in the living room all day. Rather, my children are getting older, and that means we are bombarded with gift requests to relay to Santa that don't involve cheap dolls, trucks, or tinker blocks.

When I was a child, I was fortunate to get a couple of the "big" presents I really wanted. But that was before the invention of the super expensive Wii, PS3, and X-Box. Not to mention all those nifty and cool action figures, dolls, and accessories. With four children, that Christmas list begins to look more and more like a credit card statement.

Now I understand why my parents detested those commercials that sank their teeth into us and had us begging for the latest and greatest Care Bear.

Back On Track?

Hello World! Long time no see, huh?

The drama in my family hasn't gone away, but I'm relieved to say the court portion of it all is over and done with. Now we have to focus on the children and counseling. So, that's that.

If I can, I'm going to visit and catch up on some blogs this weekend. I went over to see Susan and I plan on hopping to a few others as time permits.

The kiddos are doing great. I've added a few pictures below. I hope everyone had a fantastic Thanksgiving!

Long Time Gone

Hello Everyone!

Wow, I've really neglected this blog and I must confess something - I feel terrible about it. I suppose honesty is the best policy so here goes. The truth is, I know I can't talk about the one thing I want to most here - the ongoing dispute with my Mother.

The court date looms, each day bringing it closer. That's all well and good but knowing I will soon face the woman behind all this madness has gotten me in a frazzled state, and I know I'll turn to this venue to work out my demons.

When this ugliness is all said and done, I'll return to my normal routine. I plan on checking on everyone's blogs this week and apologize now for not doing so. I suppose a selfish part of me doesn't want to make this harder and by visiting everyone I know because I'll miss them all the more and will have to start over from scratch.

I know this is just a blog. I know I only know most of you via comments shared. But the way I feel about you, your families, and your shared experiences is something I take very seriously. I've tried to find appeasement by working my rear off (the writing is going remarkably well) but it's hollow in comparison.

This should all be said and done (God willing) by the end of October. Any and all prayers are appreciated.

Hang Ten...or Fifteen...

Back to the normalcy (or what is normal for me) of my blog. It's a topic all of us, both male and female, can relate to. It's something that comes with age. Mother nature's way of reminding us about the inescapable things in life...

Like aging.

Metabolism, where oh where have you gone? Once upon a time you were good to me. I respected you, and in turn, you gave me a broad leeway. We had a great understanding and rapport then. I always knew when to back off the sweets and treats and you rewarded this with leniency and a wistful smile.

Now, you laugh at my offering, padding me up like a thanksgiving bird in preparation for the big day. I don't have drumsticks, I have ham bones. And the harder I try to please you, the more you mock me.

Now the stair climber and weighs are beckoning, promising to do what my body refuses to.

Exercise...Damn it, I got enough PE in high school.

Shhhh! I won't tell if you won't...

Technically, I'm breaking a counselor rule here. I'm not supposed to discuss my Mother or the things going on with her. I'm supposed to journal "privately"...but where is the fun in that??

So...two weeks ago Jimbo and I flew out to Colorado Springs for business. It was a trip for his company, and aside from a plane ticket, it was free. It was the first time we've been alone like this in 5 years (since Logan was born) and we couldn't wait. We arrived ready to relax and immerse ourselves in one another.

Oh, and we were also there for something else - to make a solid decision and time frame on when we would re-involve ourselves with my Mom.

Then it happened...

On the second day of the trip, Tuesday to be exact, we got the call from his Mother who was staying at our home to babysit the children. My Mother got an attorney and were were "served". She's suing us for grandparent visitation.

There is a TON going on right now, as you can probably imagine. She has refused time and time again to give me time to deal with the emotional aspects of what she's done, refused to give me space to find common ground. Instead she's chosen to proceed as she always does - as SHE wants.

It's actually sad but fitting that she chose to do this. Jimbo said she was walking the line and if she tried something like this, he was done with her. While she's my Mother, she put this upon herself. We didn't start this, ask for this, or encourage this - but we will see it to fruition.

We have an attorney and she should have gotten the news by now - we fully intend to fight her in court.

It's a mess, a heartbreaking one, and something that never had to happen.

Quick Update

I am not dead, even though you may think so. I've just been so busy I can't find time to do the simple things in life - like resting for more than 5 minute intervals.

The end of school means IEP meetings galore. Logan has to meet with Gleenwood for his new evaluation, that means more meetings. Vincent has meetings about his speech therapy. Arwen has meetings because she continues to get into trouble at school.

Then I have all of these doctors appointments (hyperthyroid again, blah), problems with the van (fixed), and all of the other stuff that comes in life.

Wanted to drop by and say hello. I've missed the blogosphere. I've missed reading about everyone. Hope you all are well. And I hope to be able to blog when this settles (school is over in one week and while I'm glad the meetings will end, it means it's me v/s 4 children - EEK!!)

Rough Night

I slept horribly. Each time I closed my eyes it was the same thing - reliving the events that transpired hours beforehand.

I went back and re-read my previous post. In retrospect, it seems very Jerry Springerish. Fighting with relatives as an adult. I always imagined I might have issues in my life with my marriage, not with those I have been surrounded by a good portion of my life.

My poor Father is also feeling the sting. My Mother is terrified we are going to press charges and she will "lose her security clearance". So early this morning she got dressed (along with my Sister) and drove up to the court house to make sure Jimbo didn't go up there to file something against her. What's laughable (insert sarcasm here) is that Jimbo also has to have clearance for his job as well. I suppose it's fine if he loses his income because of her antics but her livelihood off limits.

I don't know which is worse. Her total lack of regard of our needed income (if he loses his clearance we're in the shit) or the fact she's so mental she actually drove up to the court house this morning on the off chance he was going there. By the way, doesn't that classify as a form of harassment? Or is it considered stalking?

I told my Father we are not pressing charges but she needs to leave me the hell alone. I told him I can't take it anymore. He agrees that would be best for all involved.

So...

Right now I'm in a dark place. I don't know what to do. I'm seriously considering contacting someone to go talk to. I've never spoken with someone before (i.e. counseling) but right now I need to let this out.

I'm tired of being afraid and of being cornered and threatened, and I'm tired of worrying something might happen to my Mother or Sister and I'll regret losing that time we could have "gotten along" because I put a fork in them.

But sometimes you have to concede and accept that this is the way things have to be. Right?

How Much?

I just noticed something today. Something totally random that got me to thinking...

How many of you -

Use tons of shampoo instead of the recommended "dime sized" amount?

Leave your conditioner on for 15 seconds instead of a minute and rinse?

Say to hell with measuring and drink your Pepto Bismol directly from the container?

Gurgle the Listerine as long as your scorching gums and mouth can take it (generally 10-15 seconds for me) instead of the suggested 30?

Use a "handful" of toilet paper, irregardless of the reasons for your visit to the throne?

Slosh whatever amount of detergent you desire into the washing machine, be it one item of clothing or a entire load?

Don't preheat the oven but just plop whatever item of food you need baked into the stove and hope for the best?

Anyone else guilty of this? Or am I just a rebel?

Number on the Fridge

Tuesday morning I was sitting in the love seat, sipping on my must have cup o java. The sun was shining, the temp outside my window a nice and cool 57 degrees. The skies were clear, the birds were chirping, and it seemed all was right with the world. Then the phone rang, and what started out as a potentially awesome day turned to shit.

My Aunt had passed away the night before from a massive heart attack.

This was a woman I adored from the first time we met. I was an idealistic 9 year old at the time, still trapped in that middle ground between youth and young adulthood. One that adored horses so much her bedroom walls, shelves, and ceiling was adorned with figurines, posters and stickers of the four legged creatures.

So naturally, when I met my Uncles new girlfriend Laura, a fellow horsehound and kindred spirit - I was in love. And strangely, so was she. I would go visit my Dad each weekend (parents were divorced) and would ask the minute I set rear inside his massive red Chevy truck "are we going to see Aunt Laura?" He used to tease me by asking, "do you come to visit me or her on the weekend?"

I spent several summers on her farm, chasing the horses in the pasture, pestering the pigs and chickens around the house, and sometimes I'd just climb into the loft of the barn and soak in the delicious scent of sweet feed that permeated the entire place during the summer.

It was a magical time, and at the center was Aunt Laura.

She did other things for me through the years, bestowing gifts every little girl dreams of, like a pony with a big red bow in the front yard for Christmas (I was 10) but the thing I loved best about her was the way I could talk to her about anything. She never treated me like a child, never acted as if I were inferior because of the fifteen year age gap between us.

Then one day Laura decided her partying days with my Uncle and his crew had come to an end, and shortly after, they broke up. It was devastating, but I understood. She'd been abusing narcotics for years and I was proud of her for making the difficult choice and getting away from the lifestyle.

She cut my Uncle from her life but not me, and I truly believe the reason I didn't dally in the drug infested culture that is high school was a direct result of watching the suffering she endured to get clean.

Then, around 12 years ago, she met and married a man. She soon became pregnant and had a child of her own - Mikaela Lee. I continued to call and visit when I could but her old man didn't care for the reminder of her previous relationship (aka me) and eventually, we fell out of touch.

A few months ago, I got a call from my sister, along with Laura's telephone number. She had bumped into her at a gas station and she'd asked about me. I jotted the number down on one of the school calendar's on the fridge, intending to call after supper was eaten and baths were taken care of - but it didn't go according to plan. By the next morning, I was packing kids off to school, preparing lunches, and I totally forgot about the number on the fridge.

And now, I'll never get to make that phone call.

A Confession - Not necessarily a "Mom" One

Okay - I've been committing a huge blog No-No. The one in which I'm not being honest with myself and using this venue as a place of solace and comfort, a place where those awesome people I visit (or that visit me) can read and offer encouragement, support, or just a "I know what you mean!"

So what's my confession - well, a couple of people know, so it's not a huge secret - but still...

I recently finished writing something - a supernatural/paranormal love story. There is turmoil and upheaval, the heroine learns about herself and discovers love for the first time. It's that kind of tale.

When I finished, a few people in my life asked if they could read it. I was absolutely petrified of the notion that someone would actually read what I created inside my warped brain, but I caved in, printing it out and passing it along. I was surprised (and stupified) to discover they actually liked it. In fact, they told me I should consider trying to get published. I scoffed at the notion, cause let's face it, I ain't no Stephenie Meyer people! And family and friends are supposed to tell you, "I love what you've done honey, it's so good!" Even if you've written the biggest steaming pile o' shit.

But I decided to tweak the story anyway, work on the manuscript obsessively, and finally had it to a place where I thought, "it's not that bad."

Well, I started researching what it takes to get published, uncovering the terrifying truths about agents, publishing companies, queries, and submissions. I googled, went to Barnes and Noble, visited the library. I have printed out hints, suggestions, and names from Agent Query. Then I tried to find a 'fit' for my story (which is honestly been a terrible experience in and of itself) to narrow down the people I would eventually query for potential representation.

It has been a nightmare, but even worse, was attempting to write a decent query. Seriously, I have visited blogs, websites, and have read how-to books and I'm still confused. One place says - DO NOT do A, B, or C. The next says - DEFINITELY do A, B, and C. I fought with myself, taking over two weeks, and sloshed through, producing a terrible rendition of one. Then I had the pleasure of explaining in 5 pages what takes place in 96,000 words of text (that's roughly 400 pages of book people) in a synopsis to accompany said query.

But the worst was yet to come - I just didn't know it yet. I thought after I had the query and synopsis, the names and the emails, I would simply mail out my stuff and hope for the best. What I didn't expect what the terrible pressure inside my stomach that has caused me to hug the toilet for several days now, caused by the mere action of pressing "send" on each individual email. Because let me tell you, each punch of the enter key was like ripping my heart out of my chest and throwing it on the ground in front of a steam roller.

Am I afraid of rejection? Sure I am. But strangely, it's slightly more than that. What started out as a hobby (okay, a monumental stress relief, which has become an addiction - I've finished off another story already, which is completely different) is now making me sick. It's strange because, well, I enjoyed writing the book and the concept of keeping it 'hidden'. Hell, my husband hasn't even read the stuff!

The bad news is - I've gotten rejections already. The good news is - it's completely normal and to be expected. But the good/bad news is = one publisher in particular has requested the full manuscript, and since that day, I've been a walking diarhhea bag of nerves. Jesus. Baring myself in front of the entire O/B department to give birth was less painful. I want to check my email to see if I've gotten a response, but I don't want to check it. I want to continue writing, but I don't want to continue writing. I'm a mixed bag of grapenuts, and I'm equal parts crunchy and soggy. It's completely nerve wracking.

And let me just say - kudos to ALL of you writer's out there who continue to press onward, even in the face of certain rejection and confusion. I know I can't be alone in this necessary step toward acheiving representation.

Wow - I strangely feel better now. Just getting that off my chest...no wait, there's the nausea again. Oh well.

Keeping it in Perspective

On days like today, when my children are at their worst and I want to crawl back in bed indefinitely, I remind myself of how lucky I am.

My cousin Lee is a 28 year old guy, nice as he can be, always willing to help lend a hand or offer a friendly ear. He's had a hard life, starting from birth. His Mother decided it would be okay to drink while he was in her womb and he suffered horribly after he came into the world. And the cruelest thing is now, years later, her choices are doing him in yet again.

His heart is failing. His young body is slipping away. And he's trying to be strong and sustain himself on his faith. But he's going to die and he knows it. It's only a matter of time and he's hoping it's later rather than sooner.

So in spite of the head lice, bickering children and chores that never end - I will be grateful. If today were your last day, would you really want to spend it being petty or cold hearted?

I never thought I'd hear...

Vincent and Logan : MOMMY! There's a french fry in the toilet!

**LOUD FLUSH**

Vincent and Logan: Bye bye, french fry!!

Seriously, I never thought I'd ever hear that. As for the real world. My PC finally just went ka-plow and we had to order a new one. The one one arrived and I just have to get my email back up and running. I hope no one has emailed me and I've not responded, if so, you know why. Now I will be back to speed and blogging more often (2 weeks for an entry, blasphemy!!)

I survived fall break but I'm sure some new gray hair is forming under my impressive Feria dye job. I also found out my thyroid issues have returned. At first I thought I needed to lay off the food, but now I know no dieting in this world will help.

And to all you husbands out there (and wives too). If your spouse has snot spread across their shirts from your offspring, gaping at him/her with mouth wide isn't exactly helping. Just lift your jaw and curb your disgust and tell us "hey, you have snot all over you!" Then we can go change and not feel like a total douche when the FedEx guy arrives and stares like we're the most disgusting creature since Smeagol.

And finally, a picture of the baby girl. She's growing so fast!!

Craptastic

Thanks Mom, I know I sound 'Rough'. Maybe it's because-

I've averaged 3-4 hours of interrupted sleep for the last year.

I've changed 2 craptastic diapers this morning already.

The children destroyed the playroom while I was changing Annabel's outfit, meaning I haven't even had my cup of coffee.

The bus didn't come for Arwen and I had to load all the kids up to take her to school.

I'm still working on sorting the clothes in the children's bedrooms but don't worry, it's only taken me a week, I'm almost there.

The bathrooms are nasty so I get to do hardcore scrubbing Cinderella style - that always brightens my day.

Oh and the kitchen needs mopping - why don't the birds, mice and shit help me out when I need them?

So yeah, I sound rough. You might not want to call back today, I can't say there will be much improvement. But thanks.

Formulating a Plan

So, as you've noticed, I've been offline recently. It started out with the funk I'd caught (and still lingers on here) but was also agitated by recent developments here at home.

The thing is, I knew eventually I'd have to consider what I'd like to do with my life. Being a stay at home Mom is amazing and I have at least a couple of years left before I'll return to the workforce but I'm coming to the realization I have no plans for the future.

I was 6 classes shy of my degree when I stopped attending college to give birth to Arwen. After she arrived I discovered my only want and need at the time was to stay here and care for her. Shortly after the decision to stay was cemented by the impending arrivals of Logan, Vincent and Annabel. I'd told myself I would return to school and finish off my degree in Education as soon as they began attending school themselves. But I'm not that same girl I was before and I'm slowly realizing I don't want to be a teacher any longer, instead my future is uncertain.

I've been discussing it with Jimbo. I have to finish out my degree in something...but what? I'd truly considered a career in nursing but find myself unsure now. I feel like I've boarded a time machine and landed myself right back at the start when I was trying to figure out what I wanted to be in life 12 years ago.

The good news is, I still have time to decide, there is no rush. But I have to address this and I know the sooner I do so the better. Is it wrong that a huge influence in my decision revolves around how much money I'll make? Or is that normal? Back when I was a fresh faced 18 year old it was all about the romantic notion of doing what I "enjoyed". Now it's all about that cold hard cash which will be used to house and feed my bottomless pits!

Thanks for all you well wishes too! I'll be back to reading up on everyone starting today. I'm feeling much better but still have the cold. At least my stomach has kinda settled down.

Have I told you lately...

Today my husband called and I was instantly suspicious.

Jim: "Baby, have I ever told you how glad I am that you are in my life?"

Me: "Oh shit, what's wrong?"

Jim: "Does something have to be wrong for me to call and tell you I love you?"

Me: "No but I know you hun, go ahead."

He told me he'd ran to Office Depot to look for an organizer during his lunch break. He noticed someone he thought he knew and when he realized it was indeed his old girlfriend he attempted to duck behind the nearest aisle. But she saw him anyhow and walked up to strike up a conversation.

They talked about their lives now, how long it's been, the usual things. But the thing that Jimbo said that amazed him was "nothing was there, nothing at all" anymore. Now, I could be the jealous bitch wife and say, "well there'd better NOT be anything there!" but I realize the human heart doesn't always function in the most rational of ways. He said instead he realized how happy he is and how happy I've made him.

On a side note, while I appreciate his honesty and I'm glad he had that moment of clarity, discovering she'd asked for his phone number to "catch up" didn't sit so well with me.

Ok so maybe I am a jealous bitch of a wife, so sue me.

PMS Blues

You probably think I've crawled into a hole thanks to my devious children but I'm here to tell you it's nothing as dramatic as that. Last week Jimbo had the sniffles which he passed on to the boys, then Arwen and finally to me.

To add insult to injury, I also got that unwelcome little visitor women have to greet each month. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later but I'd hoped I'd have more time as I continue nursing Annabel...no go though.

I forgot how much I detest PMS.

Gone

I'm sure you all know of one. A person who has no interest in you until their own life goes down the toilet, a crisis erupts, a heart is broken, or some other negative thing has happened in their life. Then suddenly they show up, giving the pity party, expecting you to embrace them and offer up yourself because suddenly you are "worthy".

So don't be surprised when you look around one day and I'm gone.