Not Forgotten

I knew a girl growing up.  I met her in dance class when I was three or four; she had big brown eyes and dimples.  She was quiet, soft spoken and shy.  She didn't let most people in and felt she couldn't relate to most.  She was spontaneous and disheveled and she danced as a way to express herself.  She wanted nothing more in this world than to be loved and she was my very best friend.  I remember her poodle skirt birthday in second grade and how she would come cheer me on at my gymnastics competitions and later in my cross country meets.  That was her, always rooting for me, even when I fucked up.  I remember she wore a purple skirt and top with panda bears and  purple leg warmers the first day of fourth grade.  I remember because I was so happy to see her.  I remember her being the first one at my mom's funeral in 9th grade.  I remember watching her dance in college, going to a performance in Boston with the percussion section of the band. I remember spending a summer at a little apartment on the beach with her, drinking rum and crystal light raspberry iced tea and working at Walgreens.  I remember moving away at 20 and thinking I would miss her forever, but forever was only two years, when she moved down after graduation.  I remember her holding my daughter right after she was born and singing Mocking Bird to our children as they screamed in the back after a day at the park.  I remember hiking with her constantly and her saying once that sometimes she thought we were the only two real people in the whole world.  I remember getting a call from her mother a cloudy morning in June saying she was dead.  I love you, Erin.  Always.  Happy 32nd birthday tomorrow.

Our song.

V-Day

"There is no remedy for love but to love more."
 Henry David Thoreau

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!  xoxo
 

Unwanted

So, suffice to say, I'm not in Jax's Beach anymore.  Obviously.  I've been home for awhile and I am quite possibly the worst blogger every, so sorry for those of you following if you actually expect frequent posts.  Generally because I don't have much to say or what I do have to say, I've already said to those that matter most and also because some days I'd rather not have some of those that matter know how I'm really feeling.  Today however I'm a bit tired.  Tired of life, tired of trying to protect everyone, trying to attempting to understand others, tired of constantly helping, tired of being afraid, just tired.  We're moving again soon, well not soon exactly, but in the next 6-10 months.  It's time.  I'm not entirely sure where, we have an idea, but nothing is set in stone until we have his orders in our hands, which will more than likely be two weeks before we leave, or he leaves.  I'm ready, I'm antsy, it's time.  I don't enjoy staying anywhere long, I get restless and rather paranoid.  Moving in a way allows me to not have to combat all of my issues, at least not right now, when I have others to work on.  I'm constantly waiting to not be wanted and when you move as often as I do, it's less of a crushing anxiety.  I have it online too though, I didn't think I would, in fact it's part of why I came to the "online world' in the first place.  If people don't really know you, they can't not want you, because you can only not want someone you know.  If they're foreign to you, you don't know enough to not want them.  Now though, I have a few friends I've had for awhile, well over a year and I wonder if it will ever go away or if I'll forever wonder when they'll realize they don't want me.  It's strange isn't it?  That continuous paranoia?  

Later, not now, because I'm kind of emotionally spent and vulnerable and I've only written one paragraph, so you know, perhaps a month from now I'm going to do a post about not knowing how to say no.  Now though, I'm going to go read.  

Love to all.

Here

Made it safely to Jax Beach yesterday after a forever drive in the car with my six year old.  I've come to realize that drives seem to get infinitely longer when you have a child in the car.  Has anyone else noticed this phenomena? 

At any rate, yesterday I wasn't in the best of places mentally anyway, so it may have been beneficial to be in the car the majority of the day where I couldn't really bring others down with my less than stellar attitude.  I'm feeling a bit better this morning, but to be honest, last week was a long one and I'm feeling rather mentally and emotionally fragile and insecure.  Iv helped a lot last night to set my head back on straight, or as straight as it will go, but I always feel guilty later whenever a mental slap is needed.  I'm blessed to have friends that will put up with me whenever I'm a bit off though.

I have a baby shower to attend today and there are family and friends here and it is Jax Beach after all, so really what do I have to complain about?

Here's a video my brother-in-law and I have gotten great enjoyment out of, those of you that are runners may like it as well.

For Matty and Bradley. A holiday suggestion.

My last JT post of the day, promise. :)

Men in leotards. How marvelous!

Last night I was speaking with a friend of mine about tu-tus.  Well, ok, that's not exactly the truth, he said something about tu-tus and I went OMG that reminds me of a Justin Timberlake SNL skit!

I hope you all enjoy it as much as I always do!

Here's the link:  http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/1077556/

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

Happy New Year, Everyone!  I hope you all had a wonderful New Year's Eve and aren't hurting too badly this morning! 

The Things I have To Put Up With

5:23 am this morning:

*Chris is poking me with his boy bits and nuzzling*

Chris:  If you have sex with me I'll make you coffee.

Me: It's 5:23 in the morning.  It's inhumane to have sex at this hour.

Chris:  It's good coffee.

Me: Go back to Key West.

Chris:  I love you.

Me: You'll still love me at 7am, we'll talk then.

Chris:  Please, baby.

Me: No.

*more nuzzling*

Me: Are you going to let me sleep?

Chris: After sex.

Me:  That coffee better be like fucking nectar from the Gods.

A Noraism

This morning my daughter was helping my mother-in-law in the kitchen, making a apple pie.  She had the apple core/peeler thingie (yes, technical term)and she was peeling and coring the apples, but you screw them on to do that first.  So, here is the conversation that ensued:

Me: Hey princess, what are you doing?

Nora: Ah, nothing, just screwing apples.

I love children.

Oy. Husbands.

I am leaving to go on a trip today.  We're stopping in Virginia first to see the in-laws and then making our way up to Pennsylvania to see my brother and gram.  Unfortunately my husband cleaned.  Yes, you read that properly, he cleaned.  I like clean, in fact, I really prefer it.  However, my husband is a interesting cleaner.  I'm not actually certain he understands how cleaning works.  You see, in Shell World things have a place, they come from said place and when you are done with them they get put back into said place.  My husband does not live in Shell World. Things go back, well, wherever he puts them, which isn't necessary where they came from.  This, my friends, means I CANNOT FIND ANYTHING!

A 6 Year Old's Birthday Party

I debated about posting on this, because, well most people don't want to hear about your children or other people's children and what not.  So, I was being polite, but then I remembered that this is my blog, so yeah, here we go: A six year old's birthday party.

Here are some sage words of advise in case any of you have the divine pleasure of hosting a child's birthday party in the future *said with just a touch of sarcasm*:

1. If you rent a bouncy house make sure the sand box they are making out of your yard does not end up inside said house.

2. If a child says he wants in the bouncy house but he does not want to take off his shoes, simply explain life is full of decisions and it is either the shoes or the bouncing.  If he picks shoes, let it go, we all have our preferences.

3. When decorating for a birthday do not draw your own My Little Pony horses, you will be asked to draw things for other children and if you are busy fitting in the time for this can be a bit sketchy.

4. If a child runs into a tree, do not inquire as to why he did such a thing.  He doesn't know, he is 6, and therefore insane.

5. Remember you are serving food for the pallets of children, not adults.  Anything that contains spinach, peppers, tomatoes or any other form of vegetable is deemed inedible and will be spit out.

6. If having a pinata, enforce a five foot rule, as to not allow one child to bludgeon another.  However, if one child refuses to adhere to this rule, simply let him go bat to head, he will then understand the need for the  rule.  Do not, I repeat, do not take a turn from the child and say he cannot participate if he does not listen to your rules. Bite your own finger off, this will be less painful.

7. If you have a cake made for the birthday and it is decorated with figurines or toys on top, remove the toys before placing the cake in front of the children.  If you do not, every child will have a icing lathered toy inside their mouth before you can say "happy birthday."  This is gross.

8. If you allow your child to have a sleepover and throw a large mattress down for both girls to lay on and are then requested to stay on the mattress with them, bring an oxygen tank and mask.  Children roll to warmth and will inadvertently attempt to suffocate you at night by stacking directly on top of you.  Do not attempt to move them, this does not work, they will return.

9. In the morning after, when the children arise, remember they are not possessed by demons, they are simply tired.  I realize the similarities to a demon possessed being will be uncanny, but I assure there is no need to call a priest.

10. Buy wine.

Sweet Slumber

So, question for all you cat owners out there. Can I train my cat to stay awake during the day and keep his happy ass asleep at night?  Please say yes.

Just For Me

I've been trying to think of something fun to post this week, so you wouldn't all think I'm a perpetual downer, but thus far I've been fairly down and unable to.  They say writing is therapeutic, like a long run, it kind of helps get it out.  I've been kind of wanting to talk about this to someone since my counseling session last week, but so far the words haven't come out, even in email.  I'm not allowing comments on this post and I hope none of you think badly of me for that, but this one is just for me, because some things have been slowly eating away at me since that session and it may help to just write it out.  Thank you for understanding.

I was asked, "what's your first memory as a child."  "I don't know" was my automatic response.  Think about it, just sit and try and think of the first thing you can remember.  I'm not sure if this was an attempt to bring up a happy memory or not.  What's your first memory?  I was young, small enough that I still went to the bathroom in my pants sometimes and it was cold out, maybe fall or early spring, I don't know, but the ground was cold and I was naked, my brother was naked and we were being chased in the backyard, getting spanked and sprayed with a cold hose water by my father, because one or maybe both of us had an accident.  We ran in circles, trying to evade the hose and the smacks, but I can clearly recall seeing the outlying red of hand prints on Mike's back and butt while I was running.  That's my first memory.  I keep trying to remember something else, something before that, but nothing is presenting itself from the depths of my memory.  I remember more though, things I haven't thought about for a very long time.

I remember being in the bathtub, sitting there and being asked something and perhaps I responded smartly or said the wrong thing or was being a brat, I really don't know, but I was taken out of the bathtub and smacked several times with the belt.  I remember being a bit older and I don't know why, but my father had a big pot of cold water and kept throwing over my head to get the shampoo out.  I remember saying it was really cold.  I remember getting yelled at an not knowing why.  I remember he was sober then.  I always recalled the alcohol after and even before my mother passed and it was forever a well, he was an alcoholic, that's why he was mean.  He was sober.  I remember good things too though.  I was falling, off a board at my grandma's barn loft and my feet had all ready come off and I was grabbed by this big hand and pulled up.  It was my dad.  I have a lot of happy memories, they're not all bad.  I remember watching my mom fence (she took fencing at the local college), watching and doing Tia Chi with her, sitting in her friend, Sue's house, where there was a sky mural on the wall and meditating.  I remember canoeing as a family with my brother and father in one canoe and my mother and I in another, I remember long bike rides next to my mom, hikes and water skiing.  I remember my mother asked for a new pair of running shoes a week before she died.  I remember she used to stop and give the local (there was only one at the time in my small town I knew about) homeless man food.  I remember she laughed a lot and she loved me.  Happy, my mother knew how to make people happy, how to be a good friend and she loved easily.

So many good memories and yet the haunting words echoing in the back of my head this week are: he was sober.

I Need Help

So, being the mother I am, after my daughter came home Halloween night with her massive bounty of candy and fell asleep, I went out, took half of it and put it into her pinata for her birthday (in 2 wks).  No, I wasn't being mean, but she had loads and she didn't need to be eating it all.  I'd never sleep!  I then took the remainder of the candy and placed it in a bag on top of the refrigerator where I have to stand on tiptoes to retrieve it, thus making it inaccessible to her.  It works out grand, because she can have two pieces a day and I don't have to worry about a sugared up wee one bouncing off my walls wreaking havoc.  There is, however, a fundamental flaw in my plan.  I can still reach the candy.  *sigh*