Just an easy-peasy countdown post today. It was fun... try it! And you can change it around or add your own categories...
TEN things I’m thankful for...
1. Ryan – that she’s happy, healthy, smart, and independent
2. My friends and family (insane though they may be)
3. Rainy days (and sunny days)
4. My gorgeous, 4-legged, fuzzy boy
5. Weight Watchers
6. Good health
7. Blue Bunny chocolate-raspberry ice cream bars
8. Sex
9. Good books
10. This past year of change, growth, difficulties, joy, and new perspective
NINE things I do every day...
1. Wheeze my way around the park several times
2. Tell my daughter I love her
3. Drink milk
4. Check my email (2,563 times)
5. Hug my dog
6. Daydream
7. Worry
8. Laugh
9. Talk to someone I love via IM or email or my blog or Facebook
EIGHT things I find attractive in a guy...
1. Intelligence
2. A sense of humor
3. A creative streak
4. Honesty and straightforwardness
5. A socially liberal/conscious attitude
6. A great smile
7. A sense of adventure
8. Complete and utter devotion to me! (Duh)
SEVEN things I enjoy doing...
1. Writing
2. Reading
3. Swimming
4. Camping
5. Blogging
6. Traveling
7. Walking/Running
SIX things on my ‘to do’ list for 2010...
1. Take a cardio kick-boxing class
2. Run a 10K
3. Do 2 breast cancer walks with my gorgeous peeps
4. Get a new job with Weight Watchers
5. Give up diet soda for good
6. Turn my non-existent finances into existent ones
FIVE places I want to visit...
1. The Galapagos Islands
2. Australia
3. New Zealand
4. The Scandinavian countries (especially Denmark)
5. Alaska
FOUR things that drive me nuts...
1. Litterbugs
2. People who don’t scoop their dog’s poop
3. When someone leaves the empty toilet paper roll on the thingy
4. Arrogant, closed-minded people (especially when it's me!)
THREE smells I like...
1. Cookies or bread baking
2. Laundry drying
3. Bars in the morning… that stale boozy/smoky smell (it’s weird, I know)
TWO things I find difficult...
1. Forgiving myself
2. Math
ONE thing I want...
1. To feel fulfilled in every area of my life (that's not too much to ask for, right? ;)
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
To Forgive... Divine?
Gandhi once said, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” Until fairly recently, I’m not sure I believed that. But I believe it now.
I’ve told you guys that I’ve been attending ‘Divorce Care’ meetings every week, right? It’s a support group for people who have gone or are going through divorce. Some of the group members are still hoping to save their marriages; some know they’re gone and are now trying to figure out how to grieve, let go, and bounce back. Five years out from my split, I didn’t feel I needed any sort of support, but when my neighbor suggested I might get something out of it, I thought I might give it a try. Then I looked over the workbook he had for the class and realized it was a faith-based program. I reminded him that I’m a heathen but he said it really wasn’t too God/religion-oriented, so I agreed to go.
Turns out? My neighbor lied just a wee bit. But it's cool, as the group leader is just wonderful and she has fully accepted my non-Christian presence. She’s incredibly respectful of my views and, of course, I always try to be respectful, too. The people in the group, who are also wonderful, vary from devout to not-so-sure-what-to-think, so I don’t feel too out of place. And while God and religion enter our discussions, the focus is really on just getting through the tangle of feelings that results when a marriage ends.
Each class begins with a video about the topic for the week – topics like loss, financial issues, helping your kids through divorce, new relationships, single sexuality (and let me tell you, when I found out God only wants us to have sex within the confines of marriage, I was ever so glad to be a heathen!), etc. The videos are very faith-oriented, which is understandable, as the program was produced by a church organization. Mostly it’s OK but I get a little peeved at times, as the people in them tend to make blanket statements like, “Without Christ in your life, you simply cannot heal.” Pfffffttttt. Utter arrogance.
What I’ve found out by participating in this group is that I have healed. And I’ve done it beautifully. And though I did it without the ‘benefit’ of Christ or religion or faith in anyone or anything except myself and the notion that things would get better (which is what always has, still does, and forever will get me through), I have done or do nearly everything the people who developed the program think I should be doing (with the exception of, you know, praying to God, and that whole ‘no pre-marital sex’ thing… 'cause that totally isn’t gonna happen, people). It’s all made me feel pretty good, pretty healthy, and pretty happy.
Last week’s discussion was on forgiveness. And I have to admit that five, four, even three years ago, that was one area where I was struggling. But when I wrote my post for Kathy’s Writer’s Workshop the other day, on the moment I knew my marriage was over, and someone asked me how you heal from that sort of betrayal, it hit me like a brick that the answer is...
Forgiveness
The idea of forgiving my ex, however, was incomprehensible to me for a long time. See, I had a few notions about the whole process that turns out? Were wrong.
I thought the person who had perpetrated the wrongdoing had to ask for forgiveness.
Wrong.
I thought the wrongdoer had to apologize first (I certainly wanted the wrongdoer to apologize first!).
Wrong.
I thought by forgiving, I was condoning the wrongdoer’s behavior.
Wrong.
I thought by forgiving, I was opening myself up to being hurt again.
Wrong.
What I realized over time was that forgiveness is actually an incredibly selfish act (or as the lovely Pauline pointed out in my comments section, a 'self-conscious' act, as 'selfish' has negative connotations). And it was one I needed to get familiar with if I was ever going to move past the hurt and anger and on with my life. I realized that forgiveness isn’t really even about the wrongdoer. After all, my anger and inability to forgive wasn’t hurting him. He was living his life, doing what he wanted. He honestly didn’t care whether I forgave him or not (and indeed, I didn’t even tell him when I did it). It was all about me and the negativity I was feeling, and I just had to do it… in my own head and my own heart. I found out that forgiveness is about release… it allowed me to let go of the anger, the pain, and the hurt and move into a better place.
When I forgave him, everything changed. I found strength I didn’t know I had. I felt hope again. Don’t get me wrong… I still had a lot of work to do on myself in order to heal completely (and forgiving myself for all my failings was - and remains - part of that never-ending work), but I could finally take the anger out of the healing process… and that made everything so much easier.
What I didn’t realize was that forgiveness is an on-going process, especially when you’re still tied to the wrongdoer (for all friggin’ eternity). You see, I forgave him for the betrayal – for ending our marriage in an incredibly painful and callous way – but I’ve found myself having to forgive him on a regular basis for lots of other things; for being a completely absentee father; for not paying his child support for nearly a year because he’s been out of work (and yeah, I know that’s not completely his fault, but we’re talking close to $10,000, people, and that’s put a world of hurt on me that I’m having trouble seeing my way out of at the moment, a month before the wallet-suck we call ‘Christmas’); for putting our child in situations where I’ve had to explain the nearly-unexplainable (like why he might have gotten re-married without even telling her); for all manner of things.
The best part, though? Ryan has benefited and, indeed, she seems to just 'get it'. While I have never (nor will I ever) bad-mouthed my ex in any way (well, to Ryan, anyway), I am honest with her. I told her recently that her dad is who he is. He has his good qualities and his bad qualities, the same as everyone. He loves her as much as he’s capable of loving anyone, but he might never be able to connect with her (or anyone else) the way she might like. That he has a hole in his soul which no one but him can repair and until he realizes that, he won’t change. And she has two choices… she can forgive him his shortcomings and accept who he is (the same as she does with me)… or she can cut him out of her life. She gave it some thought (she’s the thoughtful sort, that child of mine) and she decided she’d forgive him and she’d love him because he’s her dad. But she also easily admits she doesn’t know him and she’ll never expect or look to him for the support she gets from me. I hate that it has to be that way but if it does, I think she has a pretty healthy outlook.
So, we’re good. We’re healing nicely, thank you very much. And it’s all because of a little thing called ‘forgiveness’. I don't know if it's divine but I know it's a good thing. And I know Gandhi was right. She’s a tough cookie, my little cookie. And so am I. And we’re gonna be just fine.
I’ve told you guys that I’ve been attending ‘Divorce Care’ meetings every week, right? It’s a support group for people who have gone or are going through divorce. Some of the group members are still hoping to save their marriages; some know they’re gone and are now trying to figure out how to grieve, let go, and bounce back. Five years out from my split, I didn’t feel I needed any sort of support, but when my neighbor suggested I might get something out of it, I thought I might give it a try. Then I looked over the workbook he had for the class and realized it was a faith-based program. I reminded him that I’m a heathen but he said it really wasn’t too God/religion-oriented, so I agreed to go.
Turns out? My neighbor lied just a wee bit. But it's cool, as the group leader is just wonderful and she has fully accepted my non-Christian presence. She’s incredibly respectful of my views and, of course, I always try to be respectful, too. The people in the group, who are also wonderful, vary from devout to not-so-sure-what-to-think, so I don’t feel too out of place. And while God and religion enter our discussions, the focus is really on just getting through the tangle of feelings that results when a marriage ends.
Each class begins with a video about the topic for the week – topics like loss, financial issues, helping your kids through divorce, new relationships, single sexuality (and let me tell you, when I found out God only wants us to have sex within the confines of marriage, I was ever so glad to be a heathen!), etc. The videos are very faith-oriented, which is understandable, as the program was produced by a church organization. Mostly it’s OK but I get a little peeved at times, as the people in them tend to make blanket statements like, “Without Christ in your life, you simply cannot heal.” Pfffffttttt. Utter arrogance.
What I’ve found out by participating in this group is that I have healed. And I’ve done it beautifully. And though I did it without the ‘benefit’ of Christ or religion or faith in anyone or anything except myself and the notion that things would get better (which is what always has, still does, and forever will get me through), I have done or do nearly everything the people who developed the program think I should be doing (with the exception of, you know, praying to God, and that whole ‘no pre-marital sex’ thing… 'cause that totally isn’t gonna happen, people). It’s all made me feel pretty good, pretty healthy, and pretty happy.
Last week’s discussion was on forgiveness. And I have to admit that five, four, even three years ago, that was one area where I was struggling. But when I wrote my post for Kathy’s Writer’s Workshop the other day, on the moment I knew my marriage was over, and someone asked me how you heal from that sort of betrayal, it hit me like a brick that the answer is...
Forgiveness
The idea of forgiving my ex, however, was incomprehensible to me for a long time. See, I had a few notions about the whole process that turns out? Were wrong.
I thought the person who had perpetrated the wrongdoing had to ask for forgiveness.
Wrong.
I thought the wrongdoer had to apologize first (I certainly wanted the wrongdoer to apologize first!).
Wrong.
I thought by forgiving, I was condoning the wrongdoer’s behavior.
Wrong.
I thought by forgiving, I was opening myself up to being hurt again.
Wrong.
What I realized over time was that forgiveness is actually an incredibly selfish act (or as the lovely Pauline pointed out in my comments section, a 'self-conscious' act, as 'selfish' has negative connotations). And it was one I needed to get familiar with if I was ever going to move past the hurt and anger and on with my life. I realized that forgiveness isn’t really even about the wrongdoer. After all, my anger and inability to forgive wasn’t hurting him. He was living his life, doing what he wanted. He honestly didn’t care whether I forgave him or not (and indeed, I didn’t even tell him when I did it). It was all about me and the negativity I was feeling, and I just had to do it… in my own head and my own heart. I found out that forgiveness is about release… it allowed me to let go of the anger, the pain, and the hurt and move into a better place.
When I forgave him, everything changed. I found strength I didn’t know I had. I felt hope again. Don’t get me wrong… I still had a lot of work to do on myself in order to heal completely (and forgiving myself for all my failings was - and remains - part of that never-ending work), but I could finally take the anger out of the healing process… and that made everything so much easier.
What I didn’t realize was that forgiveness is an on-going process, especially when you’re still tied to the wrongdoer (for all friggin’ eternity). You see, I forgave him for the betrayal – for ending our marriage in an incredibly painful and callous way – but I’ve found myself having to forgive him on a regular basis for lots of other things; for being a completely absentee father; for not paying his child support for nearly a year because he’s been out of work (and yeah, I know that’s not completely his fault, but we’re talking close to $10,000, people, and that’s put a world of hurt on me that I’m having trouble seeing my way out of at the moment, a month before the wallet-suck we call ‘Christmas’); for putting our child in situations where I’ve had to explain the nearly-unexplainable (like why he might have gotten re-married without even telling her); for all manner of things.
The best part, though? Ryan has benefited and, indeed, she seems to just 'get it'. While I have never (nor will I ever) bad-mouthed my ex in any way (well, to Ryan, anyway), I am honest with her. I told her recently that her dad is who he is. He has his good qualities and his bad qualities, the same as everyone. He loves her as much as he’s capable of loving anyone, but he might never be able to connect with her (or anyone else) the way she might like. That he has a hole in his soul which no one but him can repair and until he realizes that, he won’t change. And she has two choices… she can forgive him his shortcomings and accept who he is (the same as she does with me)… or she can cut him out of her life. She gave it some thought (she’s the thoughtful sort, that child of mine) and she decided she’d forgive him and she’d love him because he’s her dad. But she also easily admits she doesn’t know him and she’ll never expect or look to him for the support she gets from me. I hate that it has to be that way but if it does, I think she has a pretty healthy outlook.
So, we’re good. We’re healing nicely, thank you very much. And it’s all because of a little thing called ‘forgiveness’. I don't know if it's divine but I know it's a good thing. And I know Gandhi was right. She’s a tough cookie, my little cookie. And so am I. And we’re gonna be just fine.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Mirror Mirror On the Wall...
I had a bad dream last night. Well, it was more disturbing than bad, really. Well, no... it was bad. But before I tell you about it, I have a question for you... you know how you can see someone (usually a woman) dressed or made-up in a way that is completely inappropriate for her body type or age and you think, 'My eyes! My eyes!' Heh heh. Just kidding. Sort of. No really, you think, 'Good lord, doesn't she have a mirror?! Can't she see what I see?!'
Yeah. I used to do that.
Then? I found out that mirrors lie. They do.
Last summer, the Republican and I went to this place here called The Frontier Culture Museum. It's cool, really... working farms that depict what life was like during various periods in US history. I think I've told you that the Republican is a photographer, right? He's actually a forensic photographer now but he's made a living for a long time taking pictures of lots of stuff and lots of people. He's good. Anyway, The Frontier Culture Museum is a great place to take pictures and that's what we did. I took pictures of the houses and flowers and farm animals (the sheep and lambs especially, as I love me some wool!). What I didn't know was that while I was taking pictures of those things, the Republican was taking pictures of me.
Lovely.
See, I don't like having my picture taken. I never have. Well, so I'm told, anyway (it's entirely possible that my parents made that up to explain why there are 4,512 pictures of my older brother and only 2 of me... whatever). Regardless, I don't like it now and do my very best to stay on the other side of the camera. If I have to be photographed, though, I prefer pictures that don't capture all of me, or ones that have someone else standing in front of me, and I always have to stand a certain way, to minimize the... well, just to minimize. But when I don't know the pictures are being taken? Gulp.
So, after we got back to the Republican's house, he loaded all his pictures onto his computer and we were looking at them. Imagine my surprise (and by 'surprise', I mean 'horror') when I saw images of me, taken from all angles, without any sort of camouflage or posing. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say I felt ill. At first I wondered who that fat woman was... and then, after I realized it was me, I wondered what the hell was wrong with my mirror! How had I not seen all that... all that... ME?!
I joined Weight Watchers very soon after. And I've never looked back. I can't, as the pictures still make me feel sick. I had the Republican send them to me, as we're supposed to have a 'before' picture for WW... but I don't know that I'll ever be able to print one of them out and look at it without wanting to hurl.
So, back to my dream. I'd had a picture taken of me and I was excited to see it, as I've lost about 632 pounds so far, but when I got it? My face was still fat! In fact, I had the whole pelican neck thing going on... you know, where your chin disappears into your neck and your face becomes this big, bloated blobby thing and you look like Jabba the Hutt. The weird thing, though? My face, even at my worst, never looked liked that. It definitely got rounder but I always had a chin (or two) and a neck... and they were always separate. So it was disturbing and bad and I woke up all worried that I really hadn't lost the weight I thought I had.
But my mirror told me otherwise.
Whew.
But...
Mirrors lie.
Well, crap.
I guess I'd better have someone take a picture.
Gulp.
Yeah. I used to do that.
Then? I found out that mirrors lie. They do.
Last summer, the Republican and I went to this place here called The Frontier Culture Museum. It's cool, really... working farms that depict what life was like during various periods in US history. I think I've told you that the Republican is a photographer, right? He's actually a forensic photographer now but he's made a living for a long time taking pictures of lots of stuff and lots of people. He's good. Anyway, The Frontier Culture Museum is a great place to take pictures and that's what we did. I took pictures of the houses and flowers and farm animals (the sheep and lambs especially, as I love me some wool!). What I didn't know was that while I was taking pictures of those things, the Republican was taking pictures of me.
Lovely.
See, I don't like having my picture taken. I never have. Well, so I'm told, anyway (it's entirely possible that my parents made that up to explain why there are 4,512 pictures of my older brother and only 2 of me... whatever). Regardless, I don't like it now and do my very best to stay on the other side of the camera. If I have to be photographed, though, I prefer pictures that don't capture all of me, or ones that have someone else standing in front of me, and I always have to stand a certain way, to minimize the... well, just to minimize. But when I don't know the pictures are being taken? Gulp.
So, after we got back to the Republican's house, he loaded all his pictures onto his computer and we were looking at them. Imagine my surprise (and by 'surprise', I mean 'horror') when I saw images of me, taken from all angles, without any sort of camouflage or posing. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say I felt ill. At first I wondered who that fat woman was... and then, after I realized it was me, I wondered what the hell was wrong with my mirror! How had I not seen all that... all that... ME?!
I joined Weight Watchers very soon after. And I've never looked back. I can't, as the pictures still make me feel sick. I had the Republican send them to me, as we're supposed to have a 'before' picture for WW... but I don't know that I'll ever be able to print one of them out and look at it without wanting to hurl.
So, back to my dream. I'd had a picture taken of me and I was excited to see it, as I've lost about 632 pounds so far, but when I got it? My face was still fat! In fact, I had the whole pelican neck thing going on... you know, where your chin disappears into your neck and your face becomes this big, bloated blobby thing and you look like Jabba the Hutt. The weird thing, though? My face, even at my worst, never looked liked that. It definitely got rounder but I always had a chin (or two) and a neck... and they were always separate. So it was disturbing and bad and I woke up all worried that I really hadn't lost the weight I thought I had.
But my mirror told me otherwise.
Whew.
But...
Mirrors lie.
Well, crap.
I guess I'd better have someone take a picture.
Gulp.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
I Have a Confession to Make...
Remember how I said I was avoiding pie on turkey day because I'm watching my calories?
Yeah.
Well, I sort of lied.
That's not why I won't be eating my normal share of yummy pumpkin goodness this year.
No.
The honest-to-goodness reason?
I found out where pumpkin pie really comes from.
And because I love you all, I thought I'd let you in on the secret...
You're skipping it this year, too, aren't you? Yup. I don't blame you one bit.
Yeah.
Well, I sort of lied.
That's not why I won't be eating my normal share of yummy pumpkin goodness this year.
No.
The honest-to-goodness reason?
I found out where pumpkin pie really comes from.
And because I love you all, I thought I'd let you in on the secret...
You're skipping it this year, too, aren't you? Yup. I don't blame you one bit.
Friday, November 20, 2009
It's Friday... Wheeeeeee!
Wheeeeeeee! I really like writing that (simple things...). And after yesterday's post, which was more, 'Ugggggggh,' I figured a 'Wheeeeeeee!' was in order. And? I just like writing it. I'm pretty sure I'd sound like a dork if I said it out loud. Of course, I spent this morning talking to Ryan in my Professor Dolittle voice (not to be confused with Dr. Dolittle, please), which sounds a whole lot like Daffy Duck (and isn't complete without the spittle spray), so I'm thinking the dork-factor probably isn't much of an issue, huh? When she was really little, Ryan used to laugh and laugh when I did one of my voices (there are many... I have to let them out of my head every now and then... for air... it's stuffy in there, you know). Now she just rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and giggles when she thinks I'm not looking... but I'm always looking... 'cause I'm a mom and I have eyes in the back of my head. Ooooh... funny story...
When we first moved here (when Ryan was 6), we had a house with a big fireplace in the living room. It had a glass 'screen' and at night, if you were sitting on the loveseat, you could see everything behind you reflected in the glass. Well, I've always told Ryan I have eyes in the back of my head... so one night, when she was supposed to be in bed, I noticed movement in the glass and I watched her, without lifting my head from my book, creeping ever so quietly down the hall. What she was doing, I've no idea, but when I hollered, without even looking up, "Get back to bed, you," the look on her face was priceless! She stopped dead in her tracks, turned, and bolted back down the hall. The next day, she spent a fair amount of time running her fingers through my hair, searching for those eyes... :)
Anyway, it's Friday! Wheeeeeeeeee! I don't know why I'm so excited, really, as the only plans I have for the weekend have to do with cleaning. 'Cause I'm told Thanksgiving is next Thursday. And that means there will be people here to eat stuff. I won't be eating much stuff, though. I usually go to Weight Watchers on Thursdays but next week I have to go on Friday... the morning after Thanksgiving. Yeah. I'm totally not eating much on turkey day. So far I've lost the equivalent of a kindergartener, which is mighty cool. I'm going for a third-grader, though, so no pie for me.
I'm not a big fan of Thanksgiving, really (shock and surprise, I know, given how much I love holidays in general... pfffftt). It's not that I don't think being thankful is a good thing... quite the opposite. I just really think you should be grateful for all your blessings every day of the year... and I try to be (though I do forget sometimes). And I don't really see how gorging on enough food to feed a small village in Africa exemplifies gratitude in any way. And the whole 'family time' thing? Well, if you really love your family, have them over for dinner whenever you want! Be grateful with them and for them and feed them turkey and pie on June 11, or March 21, or October 2. And? I hate doing the friggin' dishes! You know? Anyway, that's my take on turkey day. I told you I'm a Grinch, albeit an adorable one (or so I've been told... and yes, I know the Grinch doesn't really apply to Thanksgiving but I couldn't think of a cartoon character that doesn't like turkey... sue me).
Anyway, it's Friday! Wheeeeeeeee! Hope yours is fabulous!! XOXO
When we first moved here (when Ryan was 6), we had a house with a big fireplace in the living room. It had a glass 'screen' and at night, if you were sitting on the loveseat, you could see everything behind you reflected in the glass. Well, I've always told Ryan I have eyes in the back of my head... so one night, when she was supposed to be in bed, I noticed movement in the glass and I watched her, without lifting my head from my book, creeping ever so quietly down the hall. What she was doing, I've no idea, but when I hollered, without even looking up, "Get back to bed, you," the look on her face was priceless! She stopped dead in her tracks, turned, and bolted back down the hall. The next day, she spent a fair amount of time running her fingers through my hair, searching for those eyes... :)
Anyway, it's Friday! Wheeeeeeeeee! I don't know why I'm so excited, really, as the only plans I have for the weekend have to do with cleaning. 'Cause I'm told Thanksgiving is next Thursday. And that means there will be people here to eat stuff. I won't be eating much stuff, though. I usually go to Weight Watchers on Thursdays but next week I have to go on Friday... the morning after Thanksgiving. Yeah. I'm totally not eating much on turkey day. So far I've lost the equivalent of a kindergartener, which is mighty cool. I'm going for a third-grader, though, so no pie for me.
I'm not a big fan of Thanksgiving, really (shock and surprise, I know, given how much I love holidays in general... pfffftt). It's not that I don't think being thankful is a good thing... quite the opposite. I just really think you should be grateful for all your blessings every day of the year... and I try to be (though I do forget sometimes). And I don't really see how gorging on enough food to feed a small village in Africa exemplifies gratitude in any way. And the whole 'family time' thing? Well, if you really love your family, have them over for dinner whenever you want! Be grateful with them and for them and feed them turkey and pie on June 11, or March 21, or October 2. And? I hate doing the friggin' dishes! You know? Anyway, that's my take on turkey day. I told you I'm a Grinch, albeit an adorable one (or so I've been told... and yes, I know the Grinch doesn't really apply to Thanksgiving but I couldn't think of a cartoon character that doesn't like turkey... sue me).
Anyway, it's Friday! Wheeeeeeeee! Hope yours is fabulous!! XOXO
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Writer's Workshop: In That Instant...
I haven't done one of Kathy's Writer's Workshops in For.Ever. So I decided to give this week's a go (check out Mama's Losin' It for all the details)...
I chose the prompt:
Describe in 1000 words or less a time when something happened and you knew that life would never be the same
A little over five years ago, my then-husband was finishing up his MBA and Ryan was nearly 5-years-old, ready to begin kindergarten. Life had been pretty crazy for a long time... he’d been working away from home on a big engineering project and going to school at the same time. I was working full-time, taking care of the house, and pretty much raising Ryan alone. So we decided to take a long trip as a reward for working so hard for so long, with no vacations and next-to-no family time together since our daughter’s birth. The destination was easy - England and Scotland. Much of my family lives there and we’d combine a family visit with sightseeing… we’d travel to the town where I was born so Ryan could see a little bit of her heritage and meet some of my favorite people on the planet. Easy.
My then-husband and I agreed that Ryan and I would go for a month and he’d come over two weeks into our trip, after he finished his exams, to spend the last two weeks in the UK with us. It was a great way for me, the (much) more social one in our marriage, to spend time hanging out with my cousins, especially David, my long-time partner-in-all-things-mischievous-and-delinquent and one of the people in my life who really knows me and loves me best. And it was a great way for my then-husband to have some much-needed quiet study/alone-time at home. A perfect compromise.
While I was in England the first two weeks, I spoke to my then-husband on the phone once or twice. This was not unusual. Things had been strained between us for a while. We’d had no time together for a long, long time and when we were in the same house (or state), things were… not right. His calls home during the week had become less-than-frequent and instead of coming home on Fridays and leaving Mondays, he'd been flying in on Saturdays and out on Sundays. I knew things were bad but it was a terribly stressful time... and I'd learned over the years that when my then-husband was stressed, it was definitely not the time to 'rock the boat'. I thought after our trip, after the degrees, after the out-of-town work, after the single parenting, we’d have the time to really work on our marriage. Life would be normal again… happy, even. I was hopeful.
When he arrived in England, I expected my then-husband to be happy to see us – to see me; to be happy to finally be finished with school; to be happy to be on holiday. But he wasn’t happy. He was cold and even more distant than usual. It was noticeable to everyone. Especially to David, my long-time partner-in-all-things-mischievous-and-delinquent and one of the people in my life who really knows me and loves me best. It was uncomfortable. I was sad. And disappointed. And angry. And my hope faltered.
One night, we went out with David and some friends. And my then-husband disappeared for a while. Our friend went to look for him and when he came back into the pub, he told me he’d found him… tucked away in a quiet little corner… on the phone… whispering.
On the phone. He was on the phone. But there was no one to talk to. School was finished. His work project was finished and it was well past normal working hours in the US anyway. He was in another country. But he was on the phone. He was tucked away in a quiet little corner… on the phone… whispering.
In that instant, my hope was gone.
And David, my long-time partner-in-all-things-mischievous-and-delinquent and one of the people in my life who really knows me and loves me best, took my hand and squeezed it. He kissed my forehead, searched my face for the same realization that had dawned on him and, finding it, simply said, “I’m so sorry.”
And I knew in that instant… as I looked into the eyes of one of the people in my life who was always honest with me; who would never cause me pain; who would do anything in his power to keep me from getting hurt; whose face was filled with pain and sympathy and concern and love – all for me…
I knew in that instant that life would never be the same.
I chose the prompt:
Describe in 1000 words or less a time when something happened and you knew that life would never be the same
A little over five years ago, my then-husband was finishing up his MBA and Ryan was nearly 5-years-old, ready to begin kindergarten. Life had been pretty crazy for a long time... he’d been working away from home on a big engineering project and going to school at the same time. I was working full-time, taking care of the house, and pretty much raising Ryan alone. So we decided to take a long trip as a reward for working so hard for so long, with no vacations and next-to-no family time together since our daughter’s birth. The destination was easy - England and Scotland. Much of my family lives there and we’d combine a family visit with sightseeing… we’d travel to the town where I was born so Ryan could see a little bit of her heritage and meet some of my favorite people on the planet. Easy.
My then-husband and I agreed that Ryan and I would go for a month and he’d come over two weeks into our trip, after he finished his exams, to spend the last two weeks in the UK with us. It was a great way for me, the (much) more social one in our marriage, to spend time hanging out with my cousins, especially David, my long-time partner-in-all-things-mischievous-and-delinquent and one of the people in my life who really knows me and loves me best. And it was a great way for my then-husband to have some much-needed quiet study/alone-time at home. A perfect compromise.
While I was in England the first two weeks, I spoke to my then-husband on the phone once or twice. This was not unusual. Things had been strained between us for a while. We’d had no time together for a long, long time and when we were in the same house (or state), things were… not right. His calls home during the week had become less-than-frequent and instead of coming home on Fridays and leaving Mondays, he'd been flying in on Saturdays and out on Sundays. I knew things were bad but it was a terribly stressful time... and I'd learned over the years that when my then-husband was stressed, it was definitely not the time to 'rock the boat'. I thought after our trip, after the degrees, after the out-of-town work, after the single parenting, we’d have the time to really work on our marriage. Life would be normal again… happy, even. I was hopeful.
When he arrived in England, I expected my then-husband to be happy to see us – to see me; to be happy to finally be finished with school; to be happy to be on holiday. But he wasn’t happy. He was cold and even more distant than usual. It was noticeable to everyone. Especially to David, my long-time partner-in-all-things-mischievous-and-delinquent and one of the people in my life who really knows me and loves me best. It was uncomfortable. I was sad. And disappointed. And angry. And my hope faltered.
One night, we went out with David and some friends. And my then-husband disappeared for a while. Our friend went to look for him and when he came back into the pub, he told me he’d found him… tucked away in a quiet little corner… on the phone… whispering.
On the phone. He was on the phone. But there was no one to talk to. School was finished. His work project was finished and it was well past normal working hours in the US anyway. He was in another country. But he was on the phone. He was tucked away in a quiet little corner… on the phone… whispering.
In that instant, my hope was gone.
And David, my long-time partner-in-all-things-mischievous-and-delinquent and one of the people in my life who really knows me and loves me best, took my hand and squeezed it. He kissed my forehead, searched my face for the same realization that had dawned on him and, finding it, simply said, “I’m so sorry.”
And I knew in that instant… as I looked into the eyes of one of the people in my life who was always honest with me; who would never cause me pain; who would do anything in his power to keep me from getting hurt; whose face was filled with pain and sympathy and concern and love – all for me…
I knew in that instant that life would never be the same.
I Can See Clearly Now...
Ryan needs new glasses. I've known it for a few months but they just haven't been in the budget (hell, soap and toothpaste aren't in the budget at the moment... yeah... don't be coming 'round here without your noseplug). Anyway, she's been mentioning her vision issues a bit more frequently in the past two weeks... like this afternoon...
Ry: Man, I really can't see out of these glasses!
Me: I know, honey. I'll make an appointment for you to get your eyes checked next week, I promise.
Ry: No, it's not that.
Me: Oh?
Ry: I just ate popcorn and now my lenses are covered in butter.
Yeah... my kid is blind and a slob. And I've no idea where she gets any of it.
Ry: Man, I really can't see out of these glasses!
Me: I know, honey. I'll make an appointment for you to get your eyes checked next week, I promise.
Ry: No, it's not that.
Me: Oh?
Ry: I just ate popcorn and now my lenses are covered in butter.
Yeah... my kid is blind and a slob. And I've no idea where she gets any of it.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Fa La La La La... oh, bite me
I swear someone pushed the fast forward button on life recently! The days and weeks have just been whipping past and I’ve been left, turning in circles, mumbling, ‘What? Huh? Who? When? Huh?’ Blognut told me yesterday that Thanksgiving is next week! What? Huh? When? Seriously?! Turns out, she was right! Well, crap. That means Christmas isn’t very far away. Actually, I sort of knew that since, on my walk through the neighborhood with Sundance the other night, I saw four Christmas trees all lit up inside peoples’ houses (yes, I’m a peeker… not to be confused with ‘peeper’, which implies perversion… or ‘pecker’, which implies something else entirely). Anyway, WTF?! Although I don’t think I’m a particularly grouchy person as a rule (honest!), I’m the first to admit that I could totally do without Christmas. Period. For loads of reasons, many of which I’ll probably tell you about in the month to come. But even when I’m not feeling particularly Grinchy, there’s no way in hell I’d put up my tree before Thanksgiving. That’s just wrong. Wrong, I tell you! I think people who have that much holiday cheer ought to be exiled to the North Pole. Damn it. And I’m bracing myself for the onslaught of non-stop Christmas music on the radio starting next Thursday. Actually, in an effort to keep from sticking sharp objects in my ears, I’ll wind up listening to nothing but CDs for a month. It’s a lot better than hearing that stupid ‘Christmas Shoes’ song ninety-eleven times a day. It makes me want to hurl. Shoes. At children. And old people. And Carrie Underwood’s ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’ song? Lordy (no pun intended)! I’d like Jesus to take Carrie Underwood… and beat her senseless with that wheel.
I told you I’m a Grinch.
Someday I’ll be able to travel to exotic locations and spend every Christmas lounging on a beach somewhere, with Julio, my muscular and ever-so-attentive cabana boy, bringing me fruity, tequila-laced drinks ‘til the stars come out, after which I’ll bask in the glow of the moon, while my bronzed god (that'd be Julio again) feeds me coconut-encrusted shrimp and fresh mango. Sigh. Until then? I guess it’ll be a few trips to Target, to spend money I don’t have on things no one needs, which I’ll wrap in expensive, pointless paper that only gets ripped off and thrown in the garbage…
Bah.
Hum-shit.
I told you I’m a Grinch.
Someday I’ll be able to travel to exotic locations and spend every Christmas lounging on a beach somewhere, with Julio, my muscular and ever-so-attentive cabana boy, bringing me fruity, tequila-laced drinks ‘til the stars come out, after which I’ll bask in the glow of the moon, while my bronzed god (that'd be Julio again) feeds me coconut-encrusted shrimp and fresh mango. Sigh. Until then? I guess it’ll be a few trips to Target, to spend money I don’t have on things no one needs, which I’ll wrap in expensive, pointless paper that only gets ripped off and thrown in the garbage…
Bah.
Hum-shit.
Friday, November 13, 2009
It's Friday Already?!
How on earth did that happen?! My last post was Monday and now it's Friday already?! I can't even remember anything that happened this week! It could be the Benedryl-induced fog I've been walking around in for the past few days (my mutant spider bite is still annoying me. Damned mutant spider). And the weather has been quite dismal - cold and rainy - good napping weather. So I think my brain's been dozing on and off since Monday.
I might just make an entire week of it, too (yawwwwwwwwwwwwn).
How about you? How was your week? Any interesting/fun plans for the weekend? Tell me, please... I need to live vicariously through someone with a life!
I might just make an entire week of it, too (yawwwwwwwwwwwwn).How about you? How was your week? Any interesting/fun plans for the weekend? Tell me, please... I need to live vicariously through someone with a life!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Monday Mish-Mash...
Did everyone have a good weekend? If your weather there was anything like here, I'm betting you did... we're back in the 70's. In November. Pfffftttt. It was pretty, though, and good car-washing weather. Since my car hadn't been washed since, oh, last November or so, I figured it was time. Have I mentioned that I hate washing the car? Oh. Right. The whole 'last November' thing probably gave it away, eh? The inside was worse than the outside, though (and that's saying something!). Every week I drive one or two of our little GoGirlGo! girls home and I'm actually embarrassed to let them in the car. It's that bad. And? The thing that embarrasses Ryan even more than the dirt? My glove box hasn't closed in, like, 3 months. The little clip thingy that holds the door shut broke off and fell down inside the dash... which is all one piece... which means that in order to fix it, they have to take the entire dashboard out... which means it will cost a ridiculous amount... which I totally don't have... so it's been wide open for a while now. I told Ryan I could close it with duct tape and she nearly passed out (there is no point at all in having a child if you can't torture her once in a while). So I finally got some putty at Lowe's and stuffed it in the hole, then mashed the glove box shut and held it there for a bit. Voila! The 'airplane meal tray' has now been stowed. Am I smart or what? Yeah, I know... 'or what'. Shut it.
Speaking of our GoGirlGo! girls (who are wonderful, by the way)... the Pigsknuckle Gazette did a great story on us and it came out this weekend, complete with photos. We were so excited! If anyone wants to read it, email me (my address is on my profile page. I'm not going to post the link here, as I don't want to give the whole Internet free access to, well, Pigsknuckle. It's my little corner of Heaven, damn it. But I'll share it with you, my bloggy peeps).
What else? Oh, I got bitten by some sort of large insect-like creature. Well, that's the best I can figure. Either that, or a vampire. The bite (complete with fang marks) is on my collar bone, followed downward by a line of smaller, mosquito-like bites (sans fang marks). All of them are swollen and itch like crazy! My best guess is that it was a spider or one of those weird, alien, spider-cum-cricket bugs. I dunno. And I'm figuring I must have been asleep when it happened, as I'm reasonably certain I'd have noticed a bug that close to my face if I was awake. I sure as hell hope so, anyway. I don't feel bad, nor have I had any seizures or lost the feeling on my left side, so I'm figuring the swelling and itching will go away eventually. Right?
Any more? Yes! I added running to my work-out this weekend. I realized I have to run a 5K on New Year's Eve with our GoGirlGo! group and I'm not ready. So, off I go. Yay me! Except? I walk faster. Seriously. So do the old ladies at the park who lapped me. Twice. But I did it. And I felt great! When I came to. I'm doing interval training, so I run some, walk some, run some, etc. Sundance can even keep up. Of course, that may change when we're actually running more than we're walking.
Last thing... I finally broke down and set-up a Facebook page. This morning, Blognut posted something gross about wanting to lick the centers out of all the Oreos and putting the chocolate cookies back (I know! Do not let that fuzzy blue demon near your Oreos!). So all day I've been singing:
Do you know exactly how to eat an Oreo?
Well, to do it, you unscrew it. Very fast!
'Cause a kid'll eat the middle of an Oreo first
And leave the chocolate cookie outsides for last!
It's driving me up a friggin' wall.
And as Porky says, that's all folks! Hope your weekend was fabulous and your Monday, even better! XO
Speaking of our GoGirlGo! girls (who are wonderful, by the way)... the Pigsknuckle Gazette did a great story on us and it came out this weekend, complete with photos. We were so excited! If anyone wants to read it, email me (my address is on my profile page. I'm not going to post the link here, as I don't want to give the whole Internet free access to, well, Pigsknuckle. It's my little corner of Heaven, damn it. But I'll share it with you, my bloggy peeps).
What else? Oh, I got bitten by some sort of large insect-like creature. Well, that's the best I can figure. Either that, or a vampire. The bite (complete with fang marks) is on my collar bone, followed downward by a line of smaller, mosquito-like bites (sans fang marks). All of them are swollen and itch like crazy! My best guess is that it was a spider or one of those weird, alien, spider-cum-cricket bugs. I dunno. And I'm figuring I must have been asleep when it happened, as I'm reasonably certain I'd have noticed a bug that close to my face if I was awake. I sure as hell hope so, anyway. I don't feel bad, nor have I had any seizures or lost the feeling on my left side, so I'm figuring the swelling and itching will go away eventually. Right?
Any more? Yes! I added running to my work-out this weekend. I realized I have to run a 5K on New Year's Eve with our GoGirlGo! group and I'm not ready. So, off I go. Yay me! Except? I walk faster. Seriously. So do the old ladies at the park who lapped me. Twice. But I did it. And I felt great! When I came to. I'm doing interval training, so I run some, walk some, run some, etc. Sundance can even keep up. Of course, that may change when we're actually running more than we're walking.
Last thing... I finally broke down and set-up a Facebook page. This morning, Blognut posted something gross about wanting to lick the centers out of all the Oreos and putting the chocolate cookies back (I know! Do not let that fuzzy blue demon near your Oreos!). So all day I've been singing:
Do you know exactly how to eat an Oreo?
Well, to do it, you unscrew it. Very fast!
'Cause a kid'll eat the middle of an Oreo first
And leave the chocolate cookie outsides for last!
It's driving me up a friggin' wall.
And as Porky says, that's all folks! Hope your weekend was fabulous and your Monday, even better! XO
Saturday, November 7, 2009
My Dad Would Have Been Proud...
Ryan's taste in music tends to encompass the Disney crowd... she loves the Jonas Brothers, Demi Lovato, Selena Gomez, Mitchell Musso, and (dare I say it?), Miley Cyrus. And while I'm sure lots of you are cringing in horror or thinking, 'Who?', I have to admit, I'm cool with it. Ryan's only 10 and they're all age-appropriate, cute kids, who, for the most part, haven't yet displayed the dysfunction we've come to expect in teen celebrities. And I don't have to explain their lyrics to my kid, which is a big plus. And if I'm being really honest? I sing along, too, and I'm quite apt to stop to watch Mitchell Musso (who finally got a haircut! Ummm... did I just say that? God, how old am I?!) dance his way through one of his catchy songs in a Disney Channel music video.
Lots of Ryan's friends listen to the same stuff she does. Some don't, though, and our neighbor, who is two years older than Ryan, is one of them. Her taste runs to harder rock, like AC/DC, Guns N' Roses, and Aerosmith - a throwback to her dad's era, I guess. Ryan listens to some of it with her and has found some stuff she likes... and some stuff she can't imagine anyone in his right mind wanting to listen to voluntarily.
Anyway, yesterday, when I picked her up from school, she was telling me about this project she's doing in her computer class... they're doing some graphic design and she's putting together an album cover with images she finds on the Internet. She said she'd been looking around at real album covers to get ideas for what she wanted to do. I asked if she'd found any she liked...
Ry: I thought I might use something from Guns N' Roses, 'cause, you know, I like their Sweet Child o' Mine song...
Me: And?
Ry: Good lord, Mama, do you know what those guys look like?!
Me (laughing): Yeah, I seem to recall...
Ry: Ugh! They made my eyes bleed!
Me (snorting): That bad?
Ry: Yes! They all needed to take a shower! And do laundry!
Me (still laughing): So I take it you didn't use them?
Ry: No! I went with Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon instead. I love that picture.
Me: Yeah... no bleeding eyes with that one, huh?
My dad would have been proud. Of course, he'd have been prouder had her album cover included pictures of Frank Sinatra or Tony Bennett instead! ;)
Lots of Ryan's friends listen to the same stuff she does. Some don't, though, and our neighbor, who is two years older than Ryan, is one of them. Her taste runs to harder rock, like AC/DC, Guns N' Roses, and Aerosmith - a throwback to her dad's era, I guess. Ryan listens to some of it with her and has found some stuff she likes... and some stuff she can't imagine anyone in his right mind wanting to listen to voluntarily.
Anyway, yesterday, when I picked her up from school, she was telling me about this project she's doing in her computer class... they're doing some graphic design and she's putting together an album cover with images she finds on the Internet. She said she'd been looking around at real album covers to get ideas for what she wanted to do. I asked if she'd found any she liked...
Ry: I thought I might use something from Guns N' Roses, 'cause, you know, I like their Sweet Child o' Mine song...
Me: And?
Ry: Good lord, Mama, do you know what those guys look like?!
Me (laughing): Yeah, I seem to recall...
Ry: Ugh! They made my eyes bleed!
Me (snorting): That bad?
Ry: Yes! They all needed to take a shower! And do laundry!
Me (still laughing): So I take it you didn't use them?
Ry: No! I went with Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon instead. I love that picture.
Me: Yeah... no bleeding eyes with that one, huh?
My dad would have been proud. Of course, he'd have been prouder had her album cover included pictures of Frank Sinatra or Tony Bennett instead! ;)
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Synchronicity...
So, you might have noticed that I've been a little AWOL of late... I'm really sorry but I've been suffering from a nasty case of Writer's Block. It's worse than H1N1, I tell ya, and there's no shot for it (not that I'd get it anyway, as I don't really believe in flu shots... or Writer's Block shots). Anyway, I've been trying to come up with something - anything - to post about. Finally, after suggestions from some lovely Pals O'Mine, I had a few topics floating around in the vast expanse that is my head, but then a neat little synchronicity happened to me today and I decided to tell you about it instead...
Yesterday, one of the guys from my divorce care group sent me an email forward. Now, if you know me at all, you know I really detest email forwards and most often don't even open them before hitting my trusty delete button. This is especially true of those forwards which come from people who only send forwards... yeah, you know the people I'm talking about. But if I get a forward from someone who doesn't normally send them, or who knows my delete rule but feels the email in question is one I'd truly like, I'll read it. I read yesterday's.
It was about friendship and how people come into our lives 'for a reason, a season, or a lifetime' and we're obligated to learn lessons from everyone we meet. That's basically my philosophy about people, so I thought it was cool. At the end of the email (at the part where it strongly urges you to forward it to ninety-eleven of your closest friends), there was a note that said:
"Tomorrow, at exactly 10:35, somebody will address you and tell you something you've been waiting to hear."
OK. Suuuuure. That'll happen.
Delete.
But, a little while ago, just for shits and grins, I checked my email in-boxes... I noticed that at exactly 10:35 this morning, I received an email from a certain blogger I've quite adored for some time now but with whom I don't normally correspond. His email said this:
"well, i miss you. you ok?"
It was addressed to me. And who, in their right mind, isn't waiting to hear someone say, "well, i miss you. you ok?" Only a crazy person, methinks.
And that, my friends, is what I refer to as a synchronicity. And it was an especially warm and fuzzy one at that! XOXO
Yesterday, one of the guys from my divorce care group sent me an email forward. Now, if you know me at all, you know I really detest email forwards and most often don't even open them before hitting my trusty delete button. This is especially true of those forwards which come from people who only send forwards... yeah, you know the people I'm talking about. But if I get a forward from someone who doesn't normally send them, or who knows my delete rule but feels the email in question is one I'd truly like, I'll read it. I read yesterday's.
It was about friendship and how people come into our lives 'for a reason, a season, or a lifetime' and we're obligated to learn lessons from everyone we meet. That's basically my philosophy about people, so I thought it was cool. At the end of the email (at the part where it strongly urges you to forward it to ninety-eleven of your closest friends), there was a note that said:
"Tomorrow, at exactly 10:35, somebody will address you and tell you something you've been waiting to hear."
OK. Suuuuure. That'll happen.
Delete.
But, a little while ago, just for shits and grins, I checked my email in-boxes... I noticed that at exactly 10:35 this morning, I received an email from a certain blogger I've quite adored for some time now but with whom I don't normally correspond. His email said this:
"well, i miss you. you ok?"
It was addressed to me. And who, in their right mind, isn't waiting to hear someone say, "well, i miss you. you ok?" Only a crazy person, methinks.
And that, my friends, is what I refer to as a synchronicity. And it was an especially warm and fuzzy one at that! XOXO
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