kind of like the naked dream

Summer time is upon us and this bitch is hot. All. Of. The. Time.

Right about this time of year, is when I begin kicking myself for not having lost any weight or made any effort to get myself in decent shape.  We all know about my lovely cankles, and if you don’t – bless you, you should.  My legs are just not by best feature, so I tend to go the way of flowy dresses and peasant skirts.  I get the breeze and I don’t have to show my knees.  Everybody wins.

Except, I’m not really the winner, because most times when I wear a skirt or dress I also wear Spanks or shape wear underneath. Trust me when I say that no one wearing lycra and spandex is winning, at anything.  Certainly not the Whose Cooch Is The Coolest On This Hot Ass Day Contest.  Heat plus non breathable fabric equals a cranky kitty. That shit is uncomfortable.  Sure is molds my fat ass into a lovely shape and keeps my tummy jiggle free, but fuck, is it hot.  I hate them. 

So today, I threw on a dress and I left my spanks in the drawer.  I was running late, pulled on the dress as an afterthought, (I recently found it having forgotten I even owned it) found a matching sandal and headed out the door. I considered, just for a second, the undergarments but then told myself, Fuck IT.

I was too absorbed in traffic to notice the nearly exposed feeling as I drove in.  Then crossing the street and walking up the hill I was so happy at how nice it was feeling outside that I wasn’t in my body and paying it any attention.  Oh no, it hit me as soon as I had to walk across the office studio.  I felt every little movement of every piece of untoned flesh. For a moment I nearly had a mini panic attack at thinking that the entire studio was seeing me as this blobby, hippo with 1994 Julia Robert’s hair and cheap shoes.  I felt nekkid.  Which is, as you know, is much worse than being naked.

But you know what?  My Fuck IT turned into a Fuck ‘EM and I got over it all, right quick. 

Because while I am well aware that I am in need of a lifestyle and body improvement; I am still one sexy bitch.  Big ass and all.  Anybody who doesn’t like what they see is welcome to their opinion.  Anybody who does like what they see can swing by my desk later and flirt with me while they pretend to be using the color printer.  My husband, who may have his faults, thinks that I am perfect just the way I am.  My kids think I am the most beautiful mommy ever – oh so they tell me when I am issuing tickle torture.  I may need to drop some pounds, but I’ll never want to lose my curves.

As long as I can get my groove on and my man off, I am doin’ just fine.

random boogie

I’ve been at work for only two weeks and yet I am flooded by the feelings of TGIF!  And a long weekend too?  Hecks yeah!  I’ll be working some next week, so I really appreciate the break for what it is.  All I need is a spliff, a pool to lounge beside, and Pandora radio on ‘quick mix’ and I am set for success. 

So, of course I hear you all when you say that my guilt is unnecessary and that I should take comfort in the knowledge that I was doing what was best for a family of people and not just one member. 

To a degree I absolutely do find that comfort and to a degree I the weight of the guilt can vary at times.  Some days it’s as light as a feather.  I don’t ask myself “what if” because I just know.  And I stand by my statement.  Had I not distanced myself so much from her, I would have had more angry, frustrated and rage filled days but I also would have had a handful more good times too because that’s just the nature of our relationship.  I don’t think that I was wrong – I just don’t find much comfort in being right. 

But as always, I thank ya’ll for you kindness and your pragmatism.  

I’ve spoken of the Duder’s dance prowess here, right?  Mr. Break It Down!  Well my boy is pretty fly for a white guy and now that So You Think You Can Dance has started back up, it is all dance all the time in our house.  I woke up to some crunk ass music and killa’ moves this morning. 

Then there is she who I have renamed Sally Brown.  That’s right, Spike is now Sally Brown.  She is the spitting image of Charlie Brown’s little sister and I love it.  Anyway, Sally Brown is quite the little performer as well and at least once a day she will bust out in song and dance. 

We have a giant mirror in our hallway which has become la diva’s main performance area.  I sneaked my phone and got a video of her belting out Florence and the Machine’s Dog Days Are Over, in nothing but her panties and a smile.  Bless her heart it was precious. 

That’s it for me kids.  Have a fun (but safe) Holiday weekend.  If you’re driving, I hate it for you but I hope it’s worth it.

Muah!!



drivin' n cryin'

Since I’ve been temping at my old place of business, I have elected to drive in rather than take the train.  This means I’ve been stuck listening to morning radio, which is never as funny as the DJs think it is. 

There is one station here that has a tendency to air other people’s drama, use voice disguisers, have lengthy playbacks before giving you the update to make sure you have the whole story, that sort of thing.  It’s as if they are pretending we all, this city of millions, are all just friends here.  For the most part it gets on my nerves and I flipped the channel with the quickness.

This morning I was zoned out and the zombie me was at the wheel.  Before I knew it I was hearing one of the DJs talking about her bi-polar mother, and how this DJ is thinking of cutting her out of her life because the mother is refusing treatment for her mental disorder.  Hearing her talk about her mom and the things she has dealt with over the years was like hearing my own story told to commuters everywhere.

The other people on the show were trying to convince her to make sure she herself spoke to a therapist to gain understanding of what the consequences of this action could be.  She is thinking her mother will see that her refusal to get help is costing her lose people she loves, and that will spark the motivation for positive change.  But, what she doesn’t understand is that her mother wont’ process the thoughts the way a non depressive, chemically balanced person would.  It is the hardest thing to come to this place and make this decision, but when you finally throw down that ultimatum, it is devastating when it doesn’t work. 

I hope she has prepared herself for that very probable possibility. 

But really, how does one prepare?  People prepare for hurricanes.  They board up the windows, the put away the patio furniture, they shop for groceries and gas for the generators.  They think to themselves, we have to get through the next few hours of storm and the days after.  The reality is that the storm is scarier than they anticipated, the damage is more severe.  Places you love can get wiped off the map.

That is cutting off someone you love with all of your heart, even if it’s for their betterment.  You think you know, but you don’t.  You think you are mentally and emotionally prepared, but it’s never enough. No one can prepare the survivor for the guilt of being the one left alive.  You can tell someone all about it. You can give them all the heads up in the world, but unless you can have them live in your emotions and feel what you’re saying, rather than just hearing it, they just won’t fully get it.  They, oh so wrongly, think they can anticipate what the consequences will feel like should the ultimatum not work. 

It’s taken me a long while to be in a somewhat better place about it all.  This Mother’s Day didn’t fuck up my head, neither did the 3 year mark of my mother’s death.  I had sadness, but not depression.  But I still have the guilt.  I still have the weight of my decisions on my heart.  I still tell myself that I didn’t do enough, that I failed at helping her.  If I hadn’t have cut her so far from my life, my last years with her would have certainly been hard and I would certainly ended up even more batshit crazy than I am now, but I would have had more hugs, more memories and pictures of her with my children. 

luck be a lady

I believe that when a lady bug lands on you, it brings good luck.  Always have. 

This morning a lady bug landed on my car window during the drive to work.  I figured I was in for a decent day.

Sure enough...

I've had three new interesting prospects for future employment.  Not offers or anything remotely close to that.  Simply some key pieces clicked into place for my style of job hunting.  I am more of a "who you know" kind of gal.  To know me is to love me, to see me only on paper is to wonder "now where did this applicant go to college?" Yeah, nowhere.  It's a matter of showing my $killz and blingy personality.  I'm all charm, baby.  And I have a fantastic hand shake.  My father taught me the importance of a proper hand shake/eye contact/smile greeting.  So there's that.

In addition, I have a friend of a friend, who can turn peruse into schmooze, giving my resume a good once over. 

And I am having fun with the mini project I am working on.  I may get to pick up a new software skill while I'm there, something that could open up a few more doors for me to knock on.  

All that today.  

...

Ugh. My writing mojo was just shat upon.  CREW called - my fucking number.  Here's the thing, I don't answer her calls anymore.  She is spewing toxic shit these days and history has taught me that any call placed to me at 10:30 at night won't end well. You can count on our tempers flaring because she's a drinker and I lack the ability to walk away from a fight.  I can, however, not step into the ring at all.  I refuse to let her harsh my mellow.  Voicemail bi-otch. 

...

So anynoodle...job stuff promising(ish), ladybugs good. 

G'nite

ready for summer

I know I am guilty of usually only writing about the negative.  I think its likely two reasons.  One, who needs to vent when things are good?  And two, I am afraid of jinxing it and/or looking like an idiot when things take the inevitable turn for the worse.   But, I wanted to give a mini update and comment that for most mothers, it really is the thought that counts.

Last Mother’s Day, I was pretty let down.  Not because I wasn’t showered with gifts or affection, but because I seemed to be a careless afterthought, and no real show of appreciation for my motherly efforts were made.  This year was perfection.  I slept in, awoke to coffee and clean house, had a nice lunch and afternoon with the in-law family, and didn’t have to lift a finger all day.  Didn’t have to coordinate showers and bedtimes, didn’t have to straighten up the house after everyone was asleep.  Oh and there were homemade cards that had clearly been lovingly done the day before – as opposed to hastily slapped together while I was in the shower the day of.  Really, that’s all I could ask for, a day off from having to be the coordinator of the family.

Along the update lines, I will say that I am still cautiously, optimistically, pleased.  Hubs still seems to be on course for working out his shit.  The vibe between us is really, really good.  The communication is there.  The mutual appreciation is there.  The desire to make our family work is there. I am trying not to put too much pressure on the situation, and also trying to not be too pessimistic at the same time.  It’s such a fine line in believing in him, encouraging our union and then starting to worry that the bottom will fall out or that the shit is hitting the fan behind my back while I am being his cheerleader. 

In the meantime, I am, once again, temping for my old employer.  I know, I know.  I can’t stay broken up with anybody, can I?  But, it’s good money, it’s comfortable and it’s better than being home all day every day.  It will be nice to get a little tiny financial cushion before I vaca a bit with the kids.  I still plan on spending some time with them out of town this summer.  Not because I am running away from things, but because I want to spend time with my grandmother, and my cousins.  We’ll only be about 6 hours away and I plan to split the summer vacation time fairly evenly between there and here.  I also still need the perspective that only a little alone time can bring me. 

Two weeks to go, then the kids are out of school, my temp gig is up and I can be free from the world for a while.  Aren’t I the lucky one?

stories of my death have been greatly exaggerated...

OK...maybe not "greatly"...I have been pretty deep underground.  I've poked around on your blogs, you know.  Maybe leaving a comment, but usually just lurking.  I haven't been here in a while and the last times I've posted I've not been my usual raw, no holds barred self.  A personal, life-shit blog, is the last place you want to be less than sincere. 

My problem?  The cause of my silence?

As of late, the condition of my marriage has been all consuming.  It's been a circus, where I've starred as the tightrope act.  While working in between shows as a sad clown.  I've allowed it to provide distraction from the pursuit of proper employment, basic hygiene, coupon clipping and emotional investment in the outside world in general. 

On the plus side, I've also been really present for my kids.  My afternoons and evenings are the best parts of the day.  We shop and cook and play and color and take walks.  In those moments, I am exactly the kind of mother I want to be. 

Maybe it's more accurate to say that the structure of my marriage is the focus of all my attentions.  I've been taking a long hard look at the reality of the last ten years.  What are the fundamental truths of our foundations?  What can be scrapped and what can be reused, providing the right kind of renovation can be accomplished?  

I am struggling with how to make both my marriage and myself feel whole.  

Recently things had reached a breaking point and I was ready to be free from it all.  I was ready to walk away.  I can't explain the lightness that came with the feeling of letting go .  I was able to disconnect in way that I had previously not achieved.  I made arrangements for the summer to be away, starting as soon as school is out.  Far enough away to begin getting over my love but close enough so that father and children are not ruined by my decisions. 

At the same time and unknown to me, somehow really knowing that I was out, Hubs was making a break through of his own.  He stood alone, and faced down his real life personal demon.  He confronted, head on, the person behind all the negative and horrible voices in the back of his mind.  I won't elaborate more, it's not my story to tell, but I will say that what he did was brave and something not all people can find it in themselves to do. 

I've spoken of our emotional connection before.  I can only best describe it as a physical thing, almost like a radio frequency.  At times we are so tuned in to each other that feeling becomes our primary language.  By Monday, after his bold conversation, and spending a weekend on the beach with all four kids, only speaking to me through terse texts, the vibes he was putting out were palpable. I struggle not to say that his energy felt to me like things were different, that sounds like something only a sucker would say.  But it's true enough. If not different than certainly clearer. 

I don't know why it takes loss to gain growth.  I don't know why it took me finding the strength to leave for him to find the strength to change.  I just know that when we finally sat to talk I went from laying out my plans for leaving to considering a compromise. 

I want to see what he can do with this change of direction he's taken.  I want to see him continue to take the steps on his own, I want my presence to be his motivation, not my absence.  I want to see follow through.  He has the number for the info on the meetings, does he go?  He has the book, does he read it?  He has the tools, does he use them?  These are the things I am looking for over the next few weeks.

I haven't cancelled my summer plans and I am not foolish enough to be unprepared for this to be an elaborate case of doing just enough to keep me.  We know I've had my share of that.  But at the end of the day, I want to believe in him and I want to believe that he wants to be a better person.  I want to give him the chance to save his family.  I would rather do the emotional work of keeping my family together than the emotional work of getting over a broken marriage. 


All that to say, I haven't know what to say here.  Each day is vastly different from the last, under the surface.  On the surface it's just the same old shit.  Nothing worth reporting.  I've got mad love for y'all and I thank you for your sincere comments, emails and thoughts that you share with me.  Thanks for showing that you care even when I am not reciprocating.

expiration date

Hubs and I are rolling that goddamn boulder up that hill goddamn hill every goddamn day. 

I am attempting to awaken my spirituality, get back in touch with the soul within this sad shell of a human.  So last night, he and I are having one of those midnight conversations.  Not fighting, not blaming and making excuses, just really talking.  Most of it quite sweet, sincere and rawly honest.  It was a really wonderful and much missed vibe between us.  While the thoughts and feelings were free flowing, this little piece came to me:

If someone handed us a piece of paper, that had our marriage expiration date on it, the exact day that one of us would die, or that one of us (OK, likely me) would walk away forever, I truly believe that he and I would do everything in our power to live and love to the best of our ability up until that date.  To make the marriage a happy one and to make each other feel the love that he and I have lost as casualties of our war. 

I'd love to be able to say that I don't know why we have the ugliness between us that we have.  But I do know why.  I can name every one of our demons.  Somehow I thought that if we could take away the mystery and shed the light on the problems that they would stop.  I think I hoped that he could have the power within himself to make the right choices if there were no secrets holding their force over him.  Or that if I could recognize that I do not get to control every fucking thing that I would stop needing to be able to do so.  Wrong.  So wrong.

If Deepak Shopra is right, and at any given moment we are doing the very best we can do at that moment where the hell do I go from there?  How do I accept him and accept me, just as we are in this moment?  How do I move forward from the realization that our current best is not good enough for us to both be happy and fulfilled?  How do I stop mourning the potential that neither one of us is living up to? 

I want to find the inner peace that allows me to feel whole, without his presence.  If the psychology term is co-dependent, then the other worldly, spiritual term is soul entanglement.  Either way it's fucked up, that I know.  The other side of the coin is the sheer beauty of a love that is formed in another plane of existence.  Is wordly strife the cost of otherworldly love?