Same book, new chapter

It has been a busy two weeks as I’ve crammed in as many dentist appointments as my kids’ mouths would allow.  My husband started with a new company after quitting a truly corrupt and vindictive one and that meant we were on a serious deadline for what we could have done with our insurance.  I was able to get three kids in for cleanings, fillings, and extractions.  The kids may be unhappy with me now, but they’ll thank me later.

We’re starting the next chapter in our family and I’m optimistic.  Although we would love to have Robert home each night, he’s not at a point where he can do that just yet.  Since his experience is with entertainment transportation, and that seems to be where the money is, that’s where he’ll stay for the time being.  I do hope that it opens the door to other opportunities leading him back home that would allow us to do family activities.  I know that’s his desire, as well.  But for now,  he keeps on truckin’.

The two youngest kids will be starting a new school in mid August and I’m so excited for them!  We’ve homeschooled for the last four years (and I’ve not done what I set out to do) and I believe we have a close bond because of it.  I think their time with me out of the public school setting has allowed them the freedom to further explore their interests and talents.  Hannah has developed a love of dance, art, and theater,  Elijah has a comedic wit about him that he’s been allowed to nurture, and Matthew has cultivated his love of music and languages.  I honestly believe that having the kids away from the constant scrutiny of their peers has allowed them to strengthen their foundation in order to pursue what truly makes them happy without worrying about criticism.

I do have some concern about the influence the new kids will have on mine but I think that may be overshadowed by my joy in knowing they’ll develop friendships.  I’m hoping that since this school is geared towards the arts the kids they befriend will be more quirky and less materialistic.  It remains to be seen.

Robert has a new job, the kids have a new school, what do I have to look forward to?  My goal is to write more because I enjoy it and to look into possible freelance opportunities.  I think it’s a great way to get my feet wet and I won’t know unless I try, right?  Hopefully I can couple my writing with my weight loss trials, as well.  I’m failing at it and I’m sure others are too, so maybe our commiseration will lead to success!  Well, that’s what my fat ass is wanting anyway…

I have goals.

I’m also determined to declutter my life.  I have too much stuff and not enough space to store it.  Our belongings invade my space and it bothers my brain-it’s hard to focus when nothing is where it should be.  So I’d like to throw a bunch of unecessary crap away.

I have a dumpster and I’m not afraid to use it.

Clothes, papers, shoeboxes;  just junk  I don’t need and want to be rid of.  I’m about to throw two of my thrift store chairs out and get a couple of bean bag chairs or something.  My animals won’t stay off the furniture so there’s no point in having anything nice since they hair bomb it.  Sweetpea decided she couldn’t get a good enough cubby hole in our big comfy chair so she ate a good chunk into it.  Foam balls everywhere.  Our kitten, Phillip, loves to use this foam as soccer balls so I find them all over the house-even in my bed.  Can you picture it?  Lord help me.

So here we are, standing at the precipice.  We can embark on this new adventure knowing it may have its tough spots but if we keep our eyes on the prize,  I think it will be worthwhile.

Wino

Day 4

I haven’t had a drink since Monday night when I decided that I really need to let my liver have a vacation.  I came to that conclusion after my second martini.

Wine is my favorite drink;  red wine, to be specific.  I follow wine people on Instagram-they’re always cheery with a full glass in their hands wearing their fancy dresses and high heels that I’d break my neck in.  There’s a certain alluring quality to the image.

The reality is, I don’t have occasion to wear the fancy dresses or high heels.  I drink to quiet my mind and have a sense of peace, even if it only lasts until I refill my glass.  I’d like to say it hasn’t become an issue.  I’d like to say that I don’t think about it a thousand times throughout the day.

I’m overwhelmed with the chaos my oldest son has brought to my house.  His drug addiction and the “friends” who follow him are inescapable.  I have mothers and aunts showing up at my door looking for their kids.  “I have no idea where they are,”  I say.  Because I don’t and I really don’t care.

His drug addiction has infested my house like a bad case of roaches and no matter what I do to try to rid myself of them, they multiply and hide in the shadows.

Have you ever heard what comes out of an addict’s mouth?

“Fuck the police.”

“I stabbed my mom’s boyfriend in the head.”

“I’m not afraid of guns.”

“I hate you and wish you’d never been born.”

One of the many reasons I’ve become so fond of having a glass in my hand-It settles these conversations;  quiets them enough so I can get through my day.  But lately, the drinks have become the louder voice and infiltrate any quiet I manage to get.

So I’m taking a break.  It’s hard.  Real hard, I won’t lie.

I have a restraining order against my son and between that and everything else he brings, I’ve been a bit stressed.  Understatement of the century, folks.  But I have other kids and they deserve more than a mom too buried in guilt and intoxication to take them out to dinner or to go buy book 4 in the series they’re reading.

I’ll do it because I can and because I don’t like to lose.

 

Do not disturb

“Mommy, why do you have a garden flag that says ‘Welcome’ when you don’t actually mean it?”

I had to think about that for a minute.

“I’ve had it in the closet for a couple of years and figured I should use it at least once.  And besides, I’m pretty sure the neighbors think I’m cranky.”

If I were to make a list,  things that don’t make me cranky would be much shorter,  but I’m trying to work on that.

Being in my 40’s makes me exceedingly cranky.

Discovering an empty wine bottle when it’s much too late to go buy another.

Opening the front door on a lovely rainy morning only to have it ruined by my neighbor blaring  Banda music.

Finding a dog poop stuck to the rug.

Slow internet connections that cause pixelated movies.

Being excited to read a new book only to realize I’ve read the same sentence 29 times.

People knocking on my front door.

Yes, the Welcome garden flag is probably not the best choice for me but I was in a particularly good mood when I bought it and had decided I would try to become more friendly.  I’d have people over, we’d sit and chat.  But no, the dog hair and poop prevent that from happening and I remember why I’m cranky again.

“Mommy, this flag is better for you.”

Cranky

Impossibly Measured

I can measure my up and down, and unfortunately, my side to side.

But the affinity my hand has for yours;  that magnetic inclination to feel your hand holding mine, I cannot.  How does one measure a feeling?

The width of my smile, the lightness of my heart, twenty-three years of memories together?  That’s a start.

How frequently I creep up behind you to smack your ass-so much so that I’ve ruined your iPhone…

How many times you make me laugh in one phone conversation, the fact that I continuously attempt to make you a Radiohead fan, the coffee cup full of thoughts I have about you through the course of one day…

It can all be measured without numbers;  with how close, no matter the miles between us, our hearts connect.

Measure

I wacked my brain…

Sometimes I have so many writing ideas swirling around inside my head that everything becomes a meaningless jumbled mess.  I can’t focus one idea and turn it into typed words so I find that I need to clear everything out.  My mincemeat brain needs a break.

I started this morning with three goals I wanted to accomplish by days end:

  1. Get the dishwasher loaded and running
  2. Wash all of my bedding and throws
  3. Tackle some weeds with the wacker

I managed to get the dishwasher done quickly and this always brings relief.  It’s not that I hate loading and unloading it, it’s the moving and attaching that bums me out because something inevitably falls off the top onto the floor as I’m pulling the beast into place.  It’s a portable dishwasher-I’m happy to have it because I hate hand washing dishes.  I can never manage to get the temperature just right so I end up scalding my hands and fiddling with the cold which wastes more time than I’d care to spare.  Either way, what I’m saying is, the top of my dishwasher is always piled with crap but I did get it going and I didn’t forget to add the soap. Bonus.

I’m in a uniques situation, currently, which prevents me from using my washer and dryer so for the past two days I’ve inhabited the local laundromat.  This is inconvenient but for now, I don’t mind.  There’s a lot of hustle and bustle at this particular facility and I need to figure out the best time to do my wash-I chose a busy time these last two days but it didn’t seem to slow me up.  I was trying to visually rearrange the set up of the washers and dryers to better accommodate the large amount of people as I tried to squeeze myself between the folding tables and row of double-decker dryers.  Add the laundry carts to the mix and quite often you find yourself in a traffic jam.  I watched one woman cram a washer full of too many blankets and then chuckled to myself minutes later when that washer sounded ready to explode from the furious churning it was forced to do.  I try to find humor in the simple things.

Lastly, after leaving my Ryobi weed wacker battery charging throughout the night, I was pleased to discover that I hadn’t ruined the wacker by leaving it out in the deluge of precipitation we’ve received over the last couple of months. My mom told me I had probably ruined it but I responded  that I figured, since it’s an outdoor tool, it should be built to remain outdoors-rain or shine.  Maybe not quite Ark-onian levels of rain…but it started right up and I was able to tackle some weeds without being hit in the face more than three times with tiny pebbles.  Today was a good day.

I’m not sure if I was able to clear my mind enough to start my new little piece of fiction, and maybe it’s a bit more jumbled in there than when I started my day, but I have clean dishes, clean bedding, and a clean walkway that I was able to hose off after tackling some weeds.  So, even if I wasn’t able to clean up the spiderwebs in my brain, I was able to clean off the ones by my front door.  Baby steps.