SNOW!!!!! That’s how my kids said it this morning. For me it was more like meh snow. Either way, it’s still pretty:
I’m okay with it since well…I have no choice. But also because it’s really wet snow which will hopefully melt tomorrow. I feel super bad for all the trees though.
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I once saved a woman’s life. As in I saw a neighbor half out of her window, called 911, waited while they broke down her door and followed her to the ER. She’d had a stroke and had been trying to crawl to her window to get help for three days. It was six months before she came home. She calls me her angel. She sent me a pretty fall bouquet of flowers this morning.
I still feel bad all these years later that I didn’t somehow get to her before she’d been alone and trapped for three days.
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Until three years ago I didn’t know how to cook. No, I mean I seriously had no clue what to do in my kitchen. I’ve taught myself in that time. Mostly by trial and error, but also with the help of amazing friends who laugh at me, yet always answer my questions.
I never thought I’d get to the place where I’d try to make new things, just because. Nor that I’d love it as much as I do. Yet here I sit, planning on attempting making Fried Green Tomatoes for the first time tonight.
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The kids and I carved pumpkins last night. Which is code for I carved pumpkins last night. They don’t look half bad if I say so myself.
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I will never, ever understand non-smokers who love to tell random smokers: you know that’s bad for you right? I always wonder, what does that person expect? That the smoker will throw down their cigarette and go, oh no I didn’t, thank you so very much for telling me this kind stranger?
I’m not a smoker. I’ve never been a smoker. Yet, I’d never tell random strangers crap about it.
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On Saturday I tweeted about how I hated being the bad guy, but I’d just had to be one anyway. We went to the pumpkin patch, one kid acted up and well…said child is now without pumpkin. There are two pumpkins in my house waiting to be carved. Yesterday I even considered finding a way for her to earn it back, but I remembered a hard choice my friend Stacey wrote about a while back. It reminded me that sometimes parenting is about making the hard choice, even when it physically pains us. That in the long run, they are better off for having to deal with their consequences. So….said child lost that privilege of getting a pumpkin with a horrible attitude that day.
Then I got a “well meaning” DM from someone stating that I’m likley “harming my child’s Psyche” with my choice. (Interesting how my mother the shrink was with me and thought I did the right thing.)
I wanted to be livid. I did. I wanted to get all ragey and crap. Yet, last week was very hard and I don’t have the energy needed to care. I ignored the DM and went about my weekend. My kids know that when I make choices like that, I follow through. Chances were given and ignored. Punishment stands. End of story.
This morning I heard a comment in the halls of the girls school about my daughter. Or well me, I suppose. I’ve allowed Morgan to have one of those feather things in her hair. She also currently has two blue streaks as well. I’ve heard comments before about this and I’ve read tweets online about how lame those feathers are and how can anyone let their little precious have one.
Eh. It’s hair dude. That is really my opinion. I pick my battles very wisely. Hair is not one of them. Well except for it needing to be clean and brushed. I didn’t pay for M’s feather, she did that herself in August. (They last months.) I did however take her to the mall to have it done. She adores it and that makes me happy. It doesn’t bother me in the least. Her older cousin did the blue streaks in the past few weeks and that doesn’t bother me either.
Parenting is all about picking what works for you. You and only you know what works for your kids.
I am a stickler about bedtimes. I have friends that aren’t. I could care less. That’s their deal. I personally don’t like parenting by 7:45pm at night. Ha. We also get up very early.
I don’t pick food battles. Yet…I also only make one meal. Eat. Don’t eat. I am not having an argument about it. Yes, I have a picky eater. She doesn’t starve.
Only one of my kids is in an activity right now. Morgan is in dance. The other two are in a very lovely class called, mommy is too busy and lazy for that shit. If my kids end up ax murderers because of this…well I’ll live with that.
We all do what we do. I do the best I can. Sometimes? It just isn’t enough. I know this. Yet, I also know I have three very sweet, loving, smart, happy children. So, I figure I’m doing something right.
I guess what I wanted to say is this: We all make choices for our kids that others wouldn’t make. That’s why they are ours and not yours. Judging each other really doesn’t do much good.
The other day I said something that I hadn’t really thought about much. I said to Liz, I truly love living in Colorado.
I do. It’s taken me a long time to find it, but I really do love living here. I no longer want to move back to California. Don’t get me wrong, I miss things about California. The beach. The fact that two of my best friends live there. Trader Joes. If I could have those things here, I’d take them in a heartbeat.
Yet, here I sit, loving this place. I even thanked my ex the other day for moving us here. He laughed at me. Four years later, he said? What can I say, I’m a slow learner.
I resisted this life for so long, that I wasn’t even trying to enjoy it. One of the things I promised myself last year, was to learn to love things about this place. In my divorce agreement, I am here until my children turn 18…or I have to leave them here with him. We wrote that in to protect us both. However, it’s been a hard thing to swallow. I knew the only way to find peace with it, was to make myself love it here. Fake it, till you make it.
Truth?
I love four seasons. I may hate winter, but my kids don’t. My kids are skiers. They love snow. I can still not like winter, but I can appreciate that my children love it. It makes it tolerable. Also? I love the three other seasons.
I love that my life is easier. I love that I can live on way less money. That I work 40 hour weeks (except for six weeks during tax season) and not 70 hour weeks to support us.
I love that my kids can play outside. That I can drive to my parents house two hours away and be in silence. A place where my kids can play in the woods. A place where we can see stars at night.
I love that public school is our life. I don’t need to fear going bankrupt to send my kids to a good school. I love that our house has a basement for them and a backyard for them to play in.
I say that Denver is a little city in big city pants. It’s true. Denver is not big. Not to me at least. Yet, it’s big enough. I can take my kids to museums, to nice restaurants, to plays. I can find almost any store. We live in a place where it’s generally quiet at night. Where I don’t fear crime. Where you can drive nearly anywhere in half and hour or less.
I let Colorado into my heart this year. I’m finally happy to say, I live here. I am still a California girl at heart…but my heart has grown a place for Colorado too.
I’d still take a Trader Joes though. Freaking Colorado and their antiquated liquor laws.
Glena Pearl. Oh how she hated her middle name. I always loved it. It was old fashioned and pretty. All the reasons she despised it. I’d of used it for one of the girls middle names, but I knew she’d yell at me.
Eighty-eight years old. If she were alive today, that’s how old she’d be. She always did birthdays well. You knew she loved you all year, but you always knew it on your birthday. She’d call, write and send a gift. I have letters. Twenty-eight years worth of birthday letters. Each letter was meant to remind you how much she cared. They all included some tip on how to improve yourself in some small way. It was prefaced by the line, Melissa Ann take some advice from a little old lady. Mine (as an adult) was nearly always about slowing down and not working so hard.
Four days before Christmas and it will be three years since she was here. Today? I miss her like it was yesterday.
I can hear her in my head right now. Stop crying about me. Get over it. I’m good up here. Go make your bed. You know that a made bed is the best way to start a day.
She was always so proud of me. Except for that bed making thing. I’m a bed making disappointment. Heh.
I lit a red candle (her favorite color) and I’m making cobbler. She loved her some dessert. I know my sweet tooth is her fault.
Her name was Glena Pearl. She was my grandmother. I love her and I miss her. Now and forever. Today was her birthday.
This is a (late) entry for Heather’s Just Write.
At dinner last night, I brought up the subject of Halloween costumes. I tend to wait until the last moment to do this, because certain members of this household change their mind 2222 times. Here’s the current costume ideas:
Morgan: A vampire fairy. A very specific, very expensive (trust me) vampire costume that she must have found at drainmom’sbankaccount dot com. I did however agree to buy it, so just call me sucker. The costume is gorgeous and comes complete with crown (Hence the fairy piece. Don’t ask. The girl is odd.) and two pointy teeth that you somehow glue on. Also purchased by the sucker that is me, is a pair of black boots to go with it. She will look like a model in it, because she always does, even when in PJ’s. The girl just has that gift. She will insist on make-up before school and some insane hair-do and then make me re-do it again before she goes Trick or Treating. If it’s somehow not all perfect? She will make Halloween hell for everyone until the last second before I threaten to not let her go out and then she will be an angel.
Bailey: Has no clue what she wants to be, despite talking about it for six months. Maybe an Angry Bird. Maybe a corncob. Possibly a bloody surgeon. She in no way wants to make a decision until probably Halloween morning, three minutes before we leave for school. Which in all likely hood means, she will wear whatever she can scrounge together in the play room. Which works out well for her every dang year. She will not care or be sad about this at all. In fact, every time someone compliments her choice she will act like she thought of it months ago. Also? FREEEEE! She will be a joy all day. Because she ADORES holidays, no matter what they are. She will compliment every child under five on how cute they are and will tell random teens how beautiful they look while out that night.
Harrison: He debated for a bit between Buzz Lightyear and Iron Man and then at Children’s Place last weekend saw a skeleton shirt and decided that he’d be a “scawy Skewatin” for Halloween. His costume? That shirt, black pants (which we own) and a bit of face paint. Easy and cheap. He will be a sugar crazed nightmare by noon the day of. He won’t nap because of excitement and he will likely throw six fits. However, he will be the first to thank everyone he sees. He will be the most charming sweet skeleton around.
What are your kids going to be? Anyone else still debating?
On Friday it will be a year since my divorce was final. A year. An entire year. We’ve now been separated for 21 months. It seems like a lifetime ago, yet at times it seems like only seconds.
Last night I had one of those moments. The moments that thankfully are farther and farther between. A moment where I realized I wanted something from the other room and called to him to get it for me. My only response of course, was the dog peeking around the door eyeballing me.
For a moment, I cried for what was.
The day of your divorce isn’t something people want to remember or celebrate in any way. Yet, I can’t seem to not think about it. It’s been in my thoughts for the past few days. This was the end last year. The end of a lifetime. Our lifetime. The end of the way our family had been. We are still family. Those three little people connect us in a way that will never end completely. Yet October 14th last year was our end.
I’ve spent the last year re-creating myself. Making myself get up every day and fake it, until the day came where I didn’t have to fake it anymore. I’ve spent the last year making memories with my kids. New memories. Our memories. Ones Logan doesn’t get to share. He in turn has made a years worth of memories with them as well. Ones I don’t get to share. That’s one of the hardest you know, knowing what you are missing out on in your kids lives.
I don’t know exactly what comes next. I know what I hope comes next. I know good things will happen in the next year, because I will make them happen, just like I did this year. I’m proud of what I’ve done in this past year. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the past year. Someone stronger, more secure in myself, someone I can be proud of.
Divorce isn’t all sunshine and roses. Not even close. Half the time I don’t have my kids. Half the time I am alone with my pup. Sometimes I’m okay with that and other times is sucks donkey balls. I try my best to be positive, but some days are just harder than others. But I’ve made it this far.
If I could tell one thing to people about to start this process? I’d tell you the first year is the worst. It does get better after that. 95% of the time, it’s better. You learn to count on only yourself and well at least for me, I found out that I’m stronger than I ever knew. He’s happier now than he’d been in years. As hard as it is for me to say, I am too. My idea of what our marriage was…well in some ways, it may have been more in my head than the reality. I am happier now. I am.
Sometimes though, I’ll still have a night like last night. A moment where I forget. A moment where I call for someone who left 21 months ago. Shrug. Like I said, at least it’s few and far between these days.
A year. I’ve made it an entire year. While the day of my divorce may not be something to celebrate, me surviving an entire year is.
Mom, I have to memorize and recite a poem for tomorrow. She of course says this to me as she is getting PJ’s on, on Sunday night. Really Morgan, I say? You couldn’t have said this to me even an hour ago?
I just remembered. Maybe being sick made it fall out of my head. I had to laugh at that. Okay, you get a pass is what I told her.
She picks up Shel Silverstein, her currently favorite and starts looking through it. Which one should I pick, she asks.
It reminds me of me at her age, picking up the exact same book for the exact same reason. How can I remember this, 21 years later? I have no clue, but I do. I remember picking Dishes. Mostly because I hated having to do the dishes. I remember every word even now. I can picture myself at nine years old, standing in front of everyone in my class and saying my poem, word for word, as quietly as possible. I didn’t forget it, fear helped with that. But oh how I hated speaking in front of everyone.
Morgan, of course, picks a harder one. More words. More time out of bed. I’m onto her, but I let it slide. Before long she’s picked one and memorized it. She has an excellent memory.
Mom you should have challenged yourself back then, she tells me as I push her into bed. Yeah. I should have, but I didn’t like talking in front of others. I wasn’t as brave as you.
“If you have to dry the dishes
(Such an awful boring chore)
If you have to dry the dishes
(‘Stead of going to the store)
If you have to dry the dishes
And you drop one on the floor
Maybe they won’t let you
Dry the dishes anymore”
-Shel Silverstein, A Light in the Attic.
This post is part of Heather’s Just Write.
1. Last week didn’t end well. As you probably know by the previous post about puke. I’m sorry about that by the way. It seemed like a good idea on no sleep. Luckily this week has started off better. Early, but better.
2. I made pumpkin chocolate chip muffins the other day, off a recipe I saw online. I have to say, I’m not super impressed with them. If you have a good pumpkin anything recipe, I’d love to see/hear it.
3. Today is Columbus day, which I actually thought wasn’t observed anymore. But hey, my girls school does. Whatever. They are at the aftercare program today, so it’s all good. I barely get any holidays off.
4. We had our first bit of snow on Saturday. It was snowing, but it didn’t stick, so I don’t really have any pictures. Even though it’s supposed to be the 70′s this week, it did make me realize I needed to buy my kids all kinds of winter gear. That was possibly the only thing I accomplished yesterday.
5. Everywhere I go, I see Christmas decorations. I have serious issues with this. Mostly because I refuse to discuss Christmas with my kids until after Thanksgiving. Do you know how hard that is, when we already see Trees at Costco and light displays at Target? Why can’t we just celebrate the current holiday?
That’s all I’ve got. How are you all doing?
It makes it so much more fun.
WARNING: This is a post full of TMI. If you are at all squeamish, please pass and come back on Monday.
This was my night last night. To say I am exhausted, is an understatement. I was already exhausted by an insane work week. But this took it to a whole new level. Has anyone invented the coffee IV drip yet?
Here we go -
8pm: Get all kids in bed. Harrison had puked oh five times throughout the day. (Starting at Daycare at 2ish.) Bailey wasn’t feeling good. Morgan felt GREAT MOM!
8:30pm: Contemplate Lysoling myself. Decide instead to just Lysol all bathrooms, all light fixtures, door handles and ALL the air.
9pm: Decide I should go to bed to, you know, hopefully get some sleep.
10pm: Get up and realize I started my period. Well that explains some things. Also? YAY my body for doing things early for once!
11:12pm – 11:42pm: wake up to a puking screeching Harrison. He apparently freaked himself out puking in bed…although puking doesn’t normally make him scream. Change boy. Change sheets. Put out more towels and bucket. Take his Temp, decide it’s not high enough to give Motrin. Go back to bed.
1:33am: Wake up to a puking Bailey. Thankfully she managed to make it into the bathroom. Sadly puking makes her weepy. Bring her into bed with me.
2:12 – 4am. The girl literally puked every 20 minutes. We at some point stopped going back to the bed. I pulled the rocking chair out of Harrison”s room and we sat in the hallway, right outside the bathroom.
4:10am – Give feverish Bailey Motrin, go to bed.
4:56am – Wake up to feverish Harrison climbing into bed with me. Give more Motrin, pray for no puke.
6:35am – Alarm goes off. Curse at alarm. Both Harrison and Bailey have fevers. No more puke.
7:25am – Morgan swears to me she is perfectly fine and MUST GO TO SCHOOL. Only eats two bites of cereal.
8:10am – Rolling my eyes the entire way, I drive to the school.
8:15am – Morgan starts sobbing about how I can’t leave her because she now doesn’t feel good. I can’t get her to stop sobbing until I try Stacey’s hand holding trick, which works wonders.
9:00am – Decide to write post about puke. Because well this is a parenting blog right?
9:08am – Jump twelve feet in the air when my cell phone rings. Realize that less than 3 hours sleep is going to make this a very, very long day. As it stands now, Morgan is whimpering on the couch. The little two are laying on the other couch. There has been no more puke…but I know it’s coming.
Today’s post brought to you by exhausted me, Despicable Me on Blu-Ray and Motrin. All of which I purchased myself.
I’ve added a few extra books, just because they looked good. If you aren’t in the book club, but would like to be, just leave me a comment and please feel free to vote.
Which would you like to read for book #4?
- The History of Love (26%, 5 Votes)
- The Paris Wife (21%, 4 Votes)
- Bossypants (16%, 3 Votes)
- Sarah's Key (16%, 3 Votes)
- Water For Elephants (11%, 2 Votes)
- The Book Thief (5%, 1 Votes)
- The Glass Castle (5%, 1 Votes)
- The 19th Wife (0%, 0 Votes)
Total Voters: 19
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