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?

Birthday Hoedown at the Ponderosa

Picture this if you will:

Me in my driveway.

Make-up - impeccable. Hair - wet and wild. Dressed in nothing but a robe. Slurs are being uttered, insults flung, anger peaks and my big red button signal blares. I lift my arms, extending both hands, creating impossibly proportioned and balanced "bird" fingers. Then I open my mouth and scream wildly - "FUCK YOU!"

Now, for the rest of the story...

My day started out great. Spent time with the family, decided at 2:00pm. to get ready to go out with hubs and kids for pizza and possibly a movie. Approx 2:35pm my Mother, Sister, and 18 month old niece arrive with a gift for me. I thank them, we talk. My oldest daughter begins to complain that she, "wants to go with granny". This behavior persists. My Mother notices rash on daughter, says she will "take her to the clinic". I give the okay BUT insist I must talk to Jimbo first.

I go down the stairs and the hubs says, "No, if our daughter is going to an unknown clinic, we need to take her ourselves." I tell him I will tell my Mother no. He sighs and says "forget about it." I tell him again I will tell her no and he says, "No, your Mother will only do what she wants to anyway."

My Mother hears this and proceeds down the stairs.

An argument erupts, Jimbo remains seated and tells my Mother to leave. She doesn't. I take my niece from her arms and tell my husband and Mom to take it outside. He asks her to leave again, she doesn't. She begins insulting Jimbo, calling him a "control freak" and other insulting and reprehensible things. He reacts as she intended, stands and walks to her. I turn away, watching the argument unfold from the reflection of the television screen.

My Mother lunges at my husband and he reacts defensively, throwing out his hands to grasp her shoulders. She falls to the ground and I spin at the same time, averting my eyes from the screen and searching for her directly, worried that she's hurt herself.

Then I see it.

My Mother is staring at me with this expression of pure terror and violation - wanting me to believe that my husband is responsible for her accident, insinuating that he hit her. Jimbo backs away, hands raised, yelling all the while, "I didn't touch her!" even though I know he didn't, even as I know he didn't do anything wrong. My Mother continues staring at me, waiting for me to react, to lash out at Jimbo.

What I say next wipes that victimized look from her face.

"Mother, he never touched you. I was watching everything from the reflection of the television."

She lurches to her feet in outrage, stomping up the stairs. My sister hollers "where is my baby!" I hurry up the stairs and say, "she is here", handing her over. My Mother whips around, raging at me for not defending her against my husband. When I tell her directly that he never touched her she admits she tripped, but then proceeds to say, "but he had no right to touch me!"

As if her striking him was an appropriate response and defending himself was abhorrent.

As I go into the kitchen, my Mother and sister lash out. I walk forward, toward the door. My sister's swing misses me - barely. I argue with them and tell them to leave. My sister comes at me again, only to retreat after a solid kick has sent me into the dining room, "I have my baby in my arms, Jaime!"

They go into the garage, rushing outside. "We'll see you in court", my Mother says. Then my sister calls me worthless, a pill head, a piece of shit sister and daughter that cares more for her husband and his family than she does her own. Then she threatens me with DHR.

"I'm calling DHR, you just wait!"

My threshold breaks. My very own sister is throwing my biggest fear into my face - the future of my children.

And she knows it.

My body heats and I lose my collective shit. I lift my hands, let the winged angels fly, and scream, "FUCK YOU!". Then I inform my sister I need to change into my clothes, but if she wants a piece of my action, I'll be right down in a minute.

She calls me a coward as she slides into my Mother's car with her infant in tow and she and my Mother blessedly leave my home.

My birthday was shit and it's not the first one my toxic family has ruined. But you know what I've decided?

It's the last.

P.S. I called the police and filed a report. I won't take this shit. Not anymore.

Special Needs

My poor blog has gone to the toilet, but it's not my fault - well, not completely.

The last couple of months have been focused on preparing Logan for kindergarten. We've quizzed, colored, prepped, sang, danced, and worked with his teachers to get him as prepared and able as he can be. Yet even with the educational requirements being met and knowing our son is more than ready for the academic portions of school, his social interactions and stimulus behaviors are still a concern.

We met for his second semester conference and I knew what was coming. I'm his Mother. I see him get excited by loud noises or images. I know that he'll flap his hands, hit the top of his head, spin in circles, or just plain squeal in delight. Jimbo on the other hand, took it hard. And I understand. This is our son and as much as we love him (and always will) he continues to stay in a certain place developmentally while his younger siblings pass him by.

But like it or not, Logan just isn't ready to be integrated into a public school system without an aide present to assist him.

No big deal, right?

I wish.

Since this new stimulus package by Obama has cut school funding, the aide present at the public school Logan would attend was "let go". So we have no other option but to place him into a program inside a public school (aka special education) with the facilities and funding to give my son exactly what he needs.

Hopefully, he will be given the opportunity to attend the kindergarten classes and will only be removed when absolutely necessary. The goal is to prepare him for first grade at his home school next year, but I'm not thinking that far ahead. Right now is difficult enough.

On a positive note, we took the children to the circus again this year. We had a blast. There is no better feeling in this world than observing awe through the eyes of your children. I'll try to get the pictures cropped and edited and share a few.

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.

Justice

Neil Entwistle was found guilty today of murdering his wife and infant child. I was relieved to hear the verdict but saddened because even justice won't bring them back.

Stories like THIS are heartbreaking.

George Carlin

He passed away yesterday. I'm so sad right now.

Sick People

Have any of you read about THIS? Severed feet washing up on the shore...that's beyond strange and makes me wonder what in the world police will hopefully uncover.

Yesterday my mind kept wandering back to THIS trial and THESE pictures from it (warning on the second, it's a very difficult image to shake, proceed with caution!). In case you're afraid to click, it's the case of Neil Entwistle. He's the sicko that shot his wife and 9 month old baby girl while they napped together in the bed. It was hard enough to read about when the news broke but seeing those blood stained baby pajamas really brought it home.

I don't know what is wrong with the world today. You can't even trust people when it comes to their own families and children. It's too scary to even think about.

When it rains...

We've had a stroke of bad luck recently and it just seems to keep going...

The air conditioner isn't just broken, it's totally beyond repair. We are looking at 3,000 dollars worth of new equipment and labor.

The siding continues to deteriorate. It's beyond any hope and it's going to cost 25,000 dollars plus to replace and pay for the labor.

Jimbo's truck still isn't running, he will have to continue driving the Camry. We were so happy to have a fully paid off vehicle with under 100,000 miles...but it's at 94,000 now...

The kiddos need new clothing, which means $300-500 dollars is immediately gone from our stimulus check. When you add the $1000 we've decided to put back for the children's Christmas and the $500 for new school clothing and supplies - that leaves nothing over.

Both of the vacuum's have died. The house has been growing filthier by the day and now we have to buy a new one.

The internet has been on the blitz and finally died yesterday. We had to have someone from our DSL company come out. Since it was from our end (router not directed to the PC) we have to pay a $75 service charge.

The virus that my other hard drive got? Well it's NASTY and I may or may not get my pictures off of it before it's reformatted. This is totally my fault for not backing them up on CD and I could slap myself.

I'm having to struggle with the decision to go ahead with the MMR vaccine for both Annabel and Logan (his second round). I know people say there is no link to autism and the vaccinations but when you have an autistic child..any risk is a risk I'm not willing to take.

I feel so out of control and overwhelmed. It's hard not to worry. I've discussed getting a job but the truth is we live so far out of town that anything part-time won't even break the surface in terms of helping out.

I hope there is a light just over the horizon for us. We really need it. My saving grace has been my wonderful Mom (first by marriage, then by love) who graciously picked up the children (with the exception of Bella) so I could have some time for myself. She also gave Jimbo and I a O'Charley's gift card and one for the movies so we can go out tomorrow (we will drop the baby off). Her presence in my life reminds me that no matter how bad things are, they are worse for someone else and to be grateful for what I have.

Nick and Hulk Hogan

This topic has the potential to be flame worthy. To preface it, I want to say this is just my opinion and everyone is entitled their own. With that said...

I'm sure many of you are aware of the car accident involving Nick Hogan and his friend John Graziano. Both young men had been drinking (Nick was 17 years old at the time, John 22). Nick was driving his Toyota Supra, John in the passenger seat, lost control and wrapped around a tree. Nick was wearing his seat belt which saved his life, John was not and is in a current vegetative state.

Nick was sentenced to 8 months in prison for his part in this and his father Hulk Hogan calls him often. Since we live in the day and age of the cyber paparazzi their phone calls have been shared with everyone via TMZ.com. One of the conversations has many people in an uproar. I won't say much about it because I think it's a situation where you have to hear it to make an opinion.

You can listen HERE. After come back for the rest of my entry.

Now, the talk of reality TV shows aside, I want to bring up something that bothers me greatly about this entire situation. Where is the responsibility from John? Yes it's terrible he was hurt so gravely, I feel for him and his family. But he was old enough to know better than to drive around with a drunk 17 year old and better still old enough to know to wear a safety belt.

In Redneckville we have serious accidents often. I'm sure it's not just here but I'd prefer only to speak for fact about what I know, like Redneckville. I guess it's a southern thing...country boys and their booze, but I've seen some horrible accidents in my time. I've seen more than one with a sheet draped over a body and the jaws of life on the scene. This is why I will preach at my children. I will drill it into their brains the importance of driving only when sober and to always wear a seat belt. Ultimately, it will be their choices that protect them, not someone else's. They are responsible for themselves.

I can understand the reason people find what Nick said to be so shallow. But on the other hand I think people really need to step back and realize John might be in a better place had he made better decisions. No one can predict the future, one can only brace for the possibilities. This is another reason I always buckle myself and my children in, I don't know who is driving drunk on the roads with me as I'm on the way home. It's not about my driving it's about the driving of others I could come across.

I'd like to hear what you all think about this.

What they wouldn't Give

The letter I was to write is no more. Samuel has decided he doesn't want to see his Father after all. He's come to realize this man has left him through out his entire life and it would serve no purpose to speak with him. He says the only thing he's thankful for when it comes to his Father is, "that he gave me life".

I struggle to understand this man. I can't contemplate how a person wouldn't want to at least speak to their own flesh and blood. After all, he was a part of his life when he was smaller. But after Jo died he just stopped coming around. The only reminder of his existence being the monthly child support checks that he was chased down for and forced to pay each month via automatic withdraw.

There are people who would give anything to have the opportunity to speak just once with their child. There are others who would sacrifice their soul for one last day with their son or daughter. Yet here is this man who is totally unmoved by the needs of his son and can't even take the time to make a simple phone call.

Doomed

First I stubbed my toe when I woke, then I spilled coke all over my keyboard and finally while pulling out of the driveway to go to the doctor I backed over the dog.

The toe is fine.

The keyboard still sticks.

The dog is at the pet hospital.

I'm not leaving the house again today. I can't risk it.

Can't Win

I'm walking a fine line today. I'm a wreck.

I woke up with the intention of having a great day. I had a new stew recipe to try and was excited. I started out preparing my ingredients and after maybe 5 minutes I came downstairs. This is what greeted me.

It's ok I told myself, I will clean it later. I brought them upstairs with me and turned on the cartoons. When I didn't hear a peep from them them I went to see what was going on. I found them throwing all of the freshly washed and folded laundry around. See for yourself.

I stood there in a mixture of rage, frustration, and felt like screaming at the top of my voice and crying at the same time. Instead I told them to sit on the couch and I counted to 10. Afterward I had to throw away my stew because during the time I was with them, the garlic, onions and meat burned.

So much for a great day.

Lately I feel like I'm all alone (with the exception of Annabel and Arwen who have been insanely good for me recently, I think they know something is off ). And what's worse is what once was this intense need to cry, vent and rage has turned instead to a sad compliance. It's as if part of me has just given up. I find myself trudging along each day, pushing through.

So each day I just keep saying I'll start new and fresh. Maybe tomorrow will be 'the day'.

Don't tell me what I Want

I've been having a difficult time as of late with my decision to have a tubal ligation. I knew when I signed the paper that it was the 'smart' thing to do at the time. My body was ravaged, I was sick, we already had 4 children and I was 30 years old. I counted my blessings and made the logical choice.

But I regret it. On days like today when I look at Annabel and it strikes me, "this is my last baby" and "no more pregnancy" for me and it's hard. I start to feel resentment. I get angry at my body for being too weak, angry at my husband for being a coward and forcing my body to be the one that can no longer produce children.

And the worst part is when I try to tell family and friends of this strange grief I always get the same response.

"You don't need anymore children! You already got 4!"

or

"Honey, you need time for YOU. You need to get out of that house, away from them kids."

And instead of taking it in a positive way I start to fester. Because that isn't what I want.

Maybe this is normal. I keep waiting to come to terms with my sterility. Just chalk it up to another issue that compounds my daily life. It's not easy being a woman, or a Mother, or a person stuck in the middle of the two.

Emotional Funk

First, the pictures above. My lovely youngest two fell asleep while I was cleaning the playroom. I snapped those just a few minutes ago. The one below is of a rose I made yesterday while playing with the kids and their play-doh. I'm getting rather good at it now, I made a kick-arse cat the other day. I'll take a picture next time.


Now for the juicy stuff. I'm in an emotional 'funk'. I'm trying to shake it off but it's hard. I don't know if it's because of my Grandma (who is going home today!!), the lost friend, or looking in the mirror and realizing that perhaps I'm not the best person I could be.

I've always considered myself a good person but a flawed one . Who isn't? I know I rub people the wrong way sometimes, I know I curse too much, I know I don't eat healthy most of the time, I know I have a fast temper, and I know I'm not always right. But I also love my children, husband, family and friends. I try to do the right thing when placed into a situation.

Today when out at the store this woman approached me who has spoken to me before. Annabel was with me and she asked the same exact question she did last time.

"What wrong with her face??" she asked. "She got rash?"

"No, she has eczema." I say back and try to put my items on the register.

"Don't you have medicine for that?" She staring at Annabel like she's got the plague and suddenly this anger rises up in me.

"Yeah, they have medicine," I spat. "But I figure why not let her suffer?"

The woman looked at me for a moment in a kind of strange shock before walking away to her own spot in the store. I immediately felt shame for snapping at her. I don't know why I was so angry over something so little. Maybe it's because recently I've had a hard time with Annabel's little body and face. She is so beautiful but she suffers when her break outs occur and there is nothing I can do about it. And it's very noticeable. It's only natural people would and do ask. Maybe I'm just tired of answering the same question over and over. Or maybe I'm tired of the stupidness of asking why I don't use something to get rid of it. Don't they think I would if I could??

I hate being in this funk. Maybe it's hormonal or maybe it's just stress. I've been getting these welt like little bumps in my hairline and I recently got an abscess in my mouth (want to talk about pain). I think I need something to give here but I'm not exactly sure "what". Hopefully I'll be back to my old fun loving blogging self soon. One thing is for sure, this is NOT me.

Update

My Grandmother is being moved to another hospital that is better equipped to care for her. I'm not sure what has went wrong and why she had taken a dip. I hope I get a call soon to tell me.

I cannot stand being tied down to the house. I want to go there and see her. My Mother in Law offered to babysit so I could go tonight so if she can have visitors I'm going to try (I was told by my Mom last night visitors are only a certain times, only in certain numbers, so I'm crossing my fingers). I'll probably take Arwen with us if we go. Momaw hasn't seen her in a while and I want to make sure they get to be together in the event something happens.

All of your well wishes and comments mean so much. Just when I feel like breaking down I see them and remember there are people thinking about her.

It Pours

This just hasn't been my weekend.

First it was fighting for a friendship before realizing I had to let go. Then it was not feeling well yet again (H.Pylori). But the final blow came when I found out my Grandmother is ill and was placed into the hospital.

Apparently she is suffering from Acute Renal Failure. I got the emergency call while shopping in Wal-Mart and it was so hard to keep it together in a public place. The hospital admitted her and over the weekend she has improved but I'm not sure exactly how much. I'm assuming since my Mother finally left her side to go home to shower and change she must be doing a little better.

The possibility of losing her forever terrifies me. My most fond memories and joys from childhood revolve around my Momaw. The love I have for her is beyond description in words. I miss seeing her each day and when I think back to high school and all it's angst the one happy memory I carry is of arriving off the bus at her house where she had dinner ready and her always open arms. She always knew how to comfort me and even today can bring out a part of me people rarely get to see.

I don't know how much more stress I can take. My heart is breaking. I hope this week is better.

Not Again

I was once hurt pretty badly by someone. A friend I shared so much with and I parted ways. It was tough. Then the friend came back around, I missed the friend so I forgave the hurt. Friend and I started sharing again.

But what do you do when the friend is doing exactly the same thing that hurt you before in the past? Do you just try to brush it off? Or do you cut off the opportunity to be hurt again before it happens?

I'm not doing this again and it's hard. It means I have to be firm in my resolve. I can't think happy thoughts because that will only allow me to be hurt at the end of the day. It's tough but I think the alternative is tougher.

Trying to stay positive

I'm trying to see the good people in my life. The people that do whatever they can to make me happy, whatever they can to make my day beautiful.

I married a wonderful gentleman and because of that I got the chance to have a Mom that doesn't discourage me, doesn't belittle me and loves me unconditionally. She came to my home at 6am this morning while I slept to decorate the table with a cake and gifts.

So I am a lucky girl, I have to remember that. I'm looking at the good and not the bad. I just hope there is no more drama from my Mother today, please god let me enjoy the rest of it in peace.

Beware the Ides of March

Apparently it's not enough that I get one peaceful day.

It started last night before bed. Bad weather began to roll in. The power went off and on, I woke up each time. Little rest later Annabel was up for the day and I climbed out of the bed with her. I came downstairs and perked up at the sight that greeted me. A beautiful table lined with gifts (I will post a picture later, I need to take pictures) and cake.

But when I came downstairs Logan was in the middle of a breathing treatment and when I looked out the window it had begun to rain again. I sat down and Jimbo wished me a happy birthday before the phone rang.

It was my Mother. She wished me a happy birthday and told me she couldn't get Arwen because of the weather but then she had a stroke of genius.

"Hey! I have an idea! Why don't I got get Zoe and pack up some bags and come stay the night there??!!??"

As usual I sat in silence. Because once again, on my birthday, my Mom puts me in a tight corner. What do I say? If I say yes, she will come here and expect to be entertained. I will have to run the children as usual while she plays Grandma. I will have to clean, cook and run ragged so she can put on the pretense of helping. I won't get to go out to dinner and if I do I will be hassled on the phone from her calling every 15 minutes, "When are you coming back?? Are you almost done yet??". Even worse, I won't be able to enjoy a drink or two at home afterward to celebrate, because my Mom detests alcohol.

But if I say no, she will get hurt and angry.

"Well...Jimbo had plans for me Mom. I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet..." my voice trails off as I don't know what to say.

She sits as she always does. I can feel the tension through the phone line. So she quickly goes into another area of attack.

"Well, if the weather clears I'm getting Arwen. And I'm telling you right now, I want her and all the kids next Saturday night."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because I'm taking them all to church service for easter."

"Uhh, Mom, we have plans that weekend. We have the company picnic on Saturday and then we have Aunt Joanne's house."

Now, we have went to Joanne's every single year, every easter, since the children were born. My Mother KNOWS this. My Mother never plans Easter. We've spent exactly one year at her house and it was ill prepared. At the last minute she was so pissed that we were having Easter at Joanne's she threw together her own. She called two days beforehand and told me we were expected to come because if we could go to Jimbo's family, we'd damn well better come to mine. We arrived to our children hunting eggs filled with little biblical relics because they were sold out of all the other eggs and such because she went shopping for things that morning at the last minute. The children became upset because she didn't have any food cooked or prepared, it was a nightmare.

I let out an audible sigh through the phone and said, "Mom, we do this every year, you know that."

"Well I want to start a tradition HERE." She begins to get huffy. "It's not fair..." and she starts in on her usual tirade. It's not fair she says, that we will spend time with Jimbo's family and not her. It doesn't matter that Jimbo's family plans this a full year before or that we've known about it for months. It doesn't matter that she has burdened us with her last minute planning and expectations.

This is the way my Mother is. Always planning things at the last minute, always expecting to come over, stay the night, have a get together. Always wanting to go to vital Dr's appointments but never having time off when help is needed here at home. Always wanting the children when out in public to show off and hurriedly passing them back off to us after no one is watching. Always wanting to be the center of attention, expecting equal rights, expecting everyone to function around what makes her happy. Always with her plastered fake smile and nosing in on other people's tragedies as a way to make people say, "isn't she such a great person," or "she just loves those grandbabies so much".

Even if it's on someone else's day.

This is why I don't get on well with my Mother. God help me. I love her, she is my Mom. But years of her abuse have left me bitter. She used to maintain such control over me. She used guilt to control me and make me afraid of the world. She taught me early on that she was my salvation and then yelled and ranted when I clung to her and was afraid to be away from her. She made me a mental case until I finally got married and learned there are other people in life you can trust that won't make you afraid to stand on you own two feet.

I don't know why she does this each year and I don't know why she does this on my birthday of all days. So now I have to make phone calls, find out when Joanne's party is, and make arrangements to go out of my way to a Easter thing at my Mom's that will be tossed together at the last minute, all because my Mom can't stand the idea of my children loving other family members more than they do her.

She always has to be number one. Always.

Farewell, Old Friends

4 years ago, Logan told me about this game he wanted for his birthday. The title was familiar, Final Fantasy, but the format was not. He told me he wanted to get a game that allowed people to play online together. The purpose was to meet and do things with people from around the world. Even language wouldn't be a barrier because of an auto-translate function.

He got that game for his birthday. I remember the first night he chose his character model, decided what job he wanted to start out on and his home country. It was all rather confusing to me but after a week of watching I decided I wanted to give it a try too and soon after I purchased the game for my computer.

Thus began my experience with Final Fantasy XI. As with anything there were great things and terrible ones. I met some of the absolute worst of people but also met some of the best friends you could imagine. I've shed tears over this game, have gotten heated over this game and I've had some of the most wonderful moments of my life on this game.

It's been a struggle on when to walk away. All good things must come to an end and this is no different. For a couple of months Jim and I did leave. I was ill with the pregnancy and we canceled our content ID's. A friend managed to lure us back and against our better wisdom, we started to play again. It didn't talk long for things to happen and we were right back where we left off.

But in the weeks past, I've been thinking over hanging up my hat in the world of Vana'diel. I don't love to play as I once did and haven't for a very long time. The friends I returned for have left themselves and the friend who lured us back has different wants/desires and playtimes meaning we don't get to see or talk to him that often.

So I've made the decision to walk into the virtual sunset. It was a great run while it lasted and I can't deny I'm very sad now that the decision has been made. But I know it's the right choice and I know it was time. It's amazing how attached you become to something, something that other people probably can't understand.

My birthday is going to be so bittersweet tomorrow. But I think the timing is perfect, I'm starting the next chapter in my life.