I am going to try something new this month. I’m only going to use cash. The only exception is gas. I’ll use my debit card for gas. That is just too much trouble. Everything else though is going to be payed for in cash. I’ve seen this idea many times. I know for a fact, I didn’t think of it. In fact, someone else posted about it this week as well. One of my best friends does this too. I’ve just never been brave enough to try it. What I know though? Is I’m getting behind. I’m using my credit cards for stupid things at the end of each month, just because I flat out run out of money.

I’ve thought about this before. I’ve just never been willing to try it. Truth is, in previous years, it wasn’t an issue. You know, pre-getting divorced. Ahem.

To save time and energy, while on vacations, I only use cash. I’ve always done that. Most likely because it gets tiring writing down receipts while on vacation. While in NYC last month, I didn’t use my debit card for anything, except on cab fare on the way back to the airport. I came home with money. If I’d used my card all weekend, I’d of come home to an empty bank account. I know this about myself. If I have cash, I consciously think, is this a need. I actually did that while on vacation in NYC. I saw a purse that I loved. Such a pretty blue purse. Ahem. Yet, I didn’t buy it. Kari probably thought I was nuts. I kept picking it up and putting it down. Ha.

If I can do this on a vacation, I can do this in regular life.

My girls don’t need anymore Silly Bandz, just because they are conveniently located right next to the check out. I don’t need to eat out for lunch each day, when I have perfectly good food right here. I don’t need to go to Target when I’m bored. I can walk the dog instead. My son doesn’t need any more Cars paraphernalia. He has too much of it, as is.

I still live like there are two incomes coming into this house. And there just isn’t.

So yesterday I took the plunge. When my paycheck was deposited, I paid all my bills. I wrote out my checks for my share of daycare/after school care. I then went to the bank and took out cash. Cash for groceries. For Costco. For Target. For the eating out, although I’m attempting to curb that as well. Cash for my therapy. For mine and Bailey’s prescriptions. I will still do certain things. I will still do some fun things with the kids. I got a pedicure last night. This evening, I will go and pay for September dance classes for Morgan. But I’m doing it all with cash.

It’s a bit scary. A bit daunting. I think I can do it though. Any money left over at the end of the month, will go towards paying off credit. My goal? To stop using the dam things.

My great-grandpa only used cash. I remember hearing that my uncle made him get a checking account for all the cash he had hidden in his house, when he was 80 freaking years old. The man paid cash for his home. For his car. If he didn’t have the cash, he just flat out didn’t need it.

I think I’d like that to be my goal. If I don’t have cash for it, I don’t need it. Might take me awhile to get there, but it’s a goal.

At first it just made me mad. He forgot. What kind of person forgets their six year olds first night of gymnastics? She’s only been talking about it all summer. I realize that is harsh. I’ve forgotten things. He’s forgotten things. We have three children. He’s not the first parent to forget something important to their child. He surely won’t be the last. It just as easily could have been me. I recognize that.

Then I just got sad. Sad for my little girl who was upset and angry. I was upset at him. I was upset at me. I could have texted him again to remember to take her. I could have made this easier for him. I could have just gone and taken her, even though it was his night.

At some point though? As hard as it is for me? I have to let him sink or swim on his own.

It kills me to say that, yet I know it to be true. He left me. Our divorce will be final in October. It is no longer my job to make sure he does what he should. It’s not my job to nag him. It’s not my job to save his ass. It’s just not my job anymore.

He has the same calendar I do. The dates and times for Morgan’s dance classes. The dates and times for Bailey’s gymnastics. Doctor’s appointments. The school schedule. He has it all too.

It’s not my job. It’s my mantra this week. Not my job man. I may need that tattooed on my arm. But it sucks. It physically pains me to have my child that upset for something he forgot to do. I can’t save her pain, I can’t make it better, I can’t tell her it won’t happen again. I just don’t have that control anymore. I can only control what I do when with them. I can’t control what he does.

I am just a spectator in half of my own childrens lives now. There’s not a dam thing I can do about it. Just watch and hope for the best.

Why does it feel so horrible though?

***He knows he screwed up. Trust me, Bailey let him hear about it allllll night. He admitted it. He’s apologized for it, to Bailey and to me. This isn’t a bash my ex post. Really. I just don’t know what to think today.

I’ve bought a lot of things in my life. A condo, two homes, probably eight cars. The difference between now and then, is that I’d never bought a single thing myself. Everything I bought, I bought with Logan.

Last night? I changed that. Last night I bought my first car myself. Not my first car, but the first ever car that I’ve purchased alone. As a single person. Alone.

It may not seem like a huge deal to any of you. But to me? It’s HUGE. It is insanely huge. I’ve never really done anything alone. Now? I have. Now, I have a car that is just in my name.

I wasn’t able to buy the exact one I wanted. I wasn’t able to buy a brand new one. I had to get a slightly used one. Who cares though? I mean really? I bought it myself. I’m kind of proud.

Anyway….wanna see my pretty new (ish) car?

I did it. It was hard and slightly painful, but I did it. I am now a proud owner of a 2009 Hyundai Santa Fe. Now I just need to figure out how to get my iPod thingy to work and name her and I’ll be all set.

Any name thoughts? I am pretty sure she’s a girl. I know it’s hard to tell, but she’s a light green color.

My mom has this line she says periodically: If your dad hadn’t of moved us back to LA; if we’d just bought that house in San Diego, we’d probably still be married. Sometimes when she says it, she’s had a few too many glasses of wine. When she’s talking about the good old days. When she has something positive to say about him, which is very rare. That’s when she gets all sentimental. The wine does that. Sometimes she says it sober though, so I do think that she believes it to be true. Or at least a part of her does.

I have my doubts. I, no matter how many glasses of wine, can’t really picture it. I have asked her before and she really has no clue why she believes that. I think it’s because that is the last place she remembers them being really happy.

They were in their mid-twenties. They worked, partied, hung out on the boat. They lived in a rental that they could have bought. They had no kids when they lived there. They moved when she was six months pregnant with me. His theory being, we need to be surrounded by family when we have a baby. His theory is part of what killed their marriage. Or so she believes. This was a long time ago. I’m thirty years old. They were separated when I was four, divorced when I was five. She was never again happy with him, once they moved.

My theory has more to do with them having kids. She wanted kids, I don’t believe she ever asked his opinion on that. Not truly at least. I don’t know that he didn’t, but I am not sure that he did either. She sort of said, this is what we’re doing. He said okay. However, who knows. What I do know, is the responsibility of kids and a mortgage and the life they led when they moved back to Los Angeles, was the end of their happiness together. Which led to the end of their marriage.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I used to get tired of my mom saying this. I mean, she’s said this every now and then since I was say fifteen years old. And she was the one who left him. I think about it though.

I am not sure I remember when the last time Logan and I were truly happy together. Isn’t that sad? That I can’t even remember?  Maybe I’ve blocked it out. Maybe it’s been so long that I just can’t remember it. Possibly we were each happy at separate times and we both believed the other was too? Maybe I don’t want to know, because then I have to accept the fact that neither of us had truly been happy in years. I like to pretend that this is all his fault, but in reality? There are two sides. He deserves to be happy and I deserve to be happy. Maybe we had it once, maybe we just thought we did. I’m really not sure anymore.

What I do know is that when asked (By my therapist this week. Thank god for mommies, because mine is helping me with the cost for a bit.): when was the last time you two were truly happy together? I don’t know the answer. On the outside we were once. But it’s been a few years. But on the inside? In truth? I just don’t know.

I used to roll my eyes at my mother, every time she said that about my dad. The, we were so happy there, line. Now? I love hearing her say it. Because it reminds me that once, they were happy. That once, long, long ago? My parents loved each other. That they, even if just for a short few years, were happy together.

I wish I could remember when Logan and I were, so one day, I can tell my kids. So one day they will roll their eyes at me. So one day they will be able to say, hey my mom and dad were happy together for a bit.

It’s a small thing. One that doesn’t take away their or my sadness. One that can’t change the outcome of what is happening right now. But maybe it would give them that small bit of knowledge, that small bit of love to hold onto.

We had to of been happy once.

i didn’t forget my contest, i’ve just had trouble keeping up. really? only having one hand just blows. anyway, those who participated made me laugh. thank you for that.

the winner is psychmamma with: “One minute you were playing slots in Vegas & the next thing you knew, you woke up topless, with a chicken in your room, a Chinese man in your trunk, and a sprained thumb, but you can’t remember anything.” really, i never could have come up with this.

runner ups were: You were adjusting your bra strap in the car, when you hit a bump. The forward/downward momentum of the girls sprained your thumb before you could get it free of the strap. also by psychmama.

and: Or you drank so much Starbucks that you sprained your wrist? from mo. snort. you is very funneh lady.

i’ve been telling people that a pirate attacked me in a text message. lol. the truth is i broke my thumb badly about 20 months ago, while seven months pregnant with harrison. fun times. when i hit it, on god only knows what, a week or so ago, i thought oh it’s not as bad as before, so it’s fine. well after about five days of that, i went to the doctor. because yeah. it hurts. it’s swollen. it doesn’t bend so well. which is to say, much at all. luckily it’s not broken this time, just f’ed up.

i really want to thank all of you for your comments in my last post. there is a lot of childhood stuff in my face right now. i’m trying to deal with it. but it’s hard. with the divorce and child sharing and all of that, this some days seems like too much. problem is, when i opened the closet door in september, (which was when i wrote the VU post) i haven’t yet been able to close the dam door.

anyway, thank you. all of you.

i have almost no contact with my dad and step-mom. they don’t know my kids, which is more their choice than mine. but it doesn’t make this stuff easier to deal with.

my mom is awesome. she was (is) a great mom. but busy, very busy. she had kids to raise. she went back to school when i was eight years old. got her bachelors, then her masters and finally a PhD. she did a good job with us kids, but we weren’t with her all the time. she did the best she could. she is the reason i’m a functioning adult. she’s amazing. but she and my dad/step-mom never got along. i kept my mouth shut on a lot of things, partially because it’s my personality, but mostly because i didn’t want to cause more drama than their already was. not the best idea i suppose, but it is what it is.

shrug. i was six years old when my dad moved in with my step-mom. things that happened, i didn’t have the words to explain then. and as time goes on, you start to believe what is said about you as a child. anyway….i’m sure i will be in therapy for a long while. but again thank you, each of you for supporting me right now. i know their are many more entertaining people to read, but i’m grateful to each of you who read my words.

okay, i’m done now. psychmamma, congrats darlin. send me your email and let me know if you’d like starbucks/itunes/jamba juice. choice is yours love. thanks for making me laugh.