I know, I know…I should do this more. This blogging thing.
Years ago, I did commit to opening myself up and letting people in. I knew then and I know now that it helps me. Yes, it truly does, doing this, writing down my thoughts and feelings keeps me from shutting down, from turning in on myself and becoming my own worst enemy.
And besides, I have so many others in my orbit that seem to be my own worst enemy. *le sigh*
So, let’s see, it’s been 31 days since my last blog. And let me tell you, the last 31 days have been a mix of extremely awesome times and some true floaters. And each one has tested my patience and my sobriety…
really. not. I can’t commit to being an alcoholic. If I can’t commit to writing every day, then how do you expect me to commit to sucking down a bottle of wine every night? I leave THAT to the Respondent. (lol…alot! or not…)
So…we get through the never-ending Birthday Train. Serio, in TWO WEEKS, I had the Spawn of the Sister, aka the LilleeButt’s ta-do’s. The Boy’s parties; yes, plural. And then the Girl had her soiree…
Doesn’t every child under the age of 10 have TWO birthday parties? Or is that just this insane family? We did the family lunch at a highly overrated and sickening restaurant…it used to be sooooo good, so much fun and it’s just gotten a bit long in the tooth. It’s sad when you grow up and things you thought were so cool are just sooooooo, well, lame. Then the next day, in the blazing, surface of the sun heat, we did it again, at a pool playground. As the adults sat, melting, the kids had.a.blast. Every adult, once the sweat was wiped from their eyes, was watching their watches…
Then the Boy officially became a Pre Teen. God.help.me. We decided since his party was on Saturday to go to Gatti Town for his birthday, where we ate our weight in pizza. Not so much a party as much as mommy didn’t wanna cook…for his party, we went to see The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (it was surprisingly cute) and then come back here and swim. It was quiet, easy and quick. Notice at no point did I say cheap. No, with a cell phone and iTouch from the mommy and the Girl as presents…it was a dent. But I needed to make it a good one.
As a kid, I know from experience, how much it SUCKS having a summer birthday. And on top of it, right at the end of summer when everyone you know is squeezing in those last-minute vacation weekends. No one comes to the party. So I have to improvise and indulge. It’s my guilt at work and he truly benefits from it.
By the way, he had a blast!!!
Now, if you are keeping track, that is FOUR birthday events in two weekends. But the Girl was not to be outdone…
See, the Beast always seemed to “spoil” the Girl. Suprising her with trucks for Valentine’s Day and motorcycles for birthdays, I had big shoes to fill. Not that I will ever compete with the Beast, on the contrary, if I do say so myself, as a girlfriend, I rock. Not an eg0-filling “I Rock!” but the Beast is a Beast, so the bell curve was set pretty low.
Except for presents. Bitch.
So I started working on it about three months before her birthday. I knew the things she said she liked, she said she wanted…I kept a list on my phone. And I started collecting everything she mentioned.
I also started collecting her AWESOME friends into a surprise party that rather quickly unraveled into a known party. I got folks to come from Houston (Thank you Kenner!) and from Austin (Thank you Lori!) to celebrate. We rented a sno cone machine for spiked sno cones (hint, hint…these were goooood!) and a few select others to get folks here, to get the jello shots made and to man the grill. The goal of everyone, give the Girl the best party we could. After the past six months of bullshit with the Beast, she deserved it!
We had a great time and I truly, TRULY surprised her with several of her gifts. Her biggest surprise was the Graceland Collectible Cookie Jar that I got her. She had wanted it for years, I had found it and the gentleman had ONE of them. She is now the proud owner of Certified #694 of the Graceland Edition. She still can’t believe she has it.
Steph, 1,000,000,000. The Beast -00,001. Ya-hoo! Suck on that….
So you would think, after three weekends of birthday parties, it’s all rosy and uphill, right? ooooohhhh, no. Not in Stephie World. Not with the people who can’t seem to stay away. No….I gots these people in my life that seem to want to shovel their shit onto my plate then ask me to eat it and smile.
Really? cause I don’t have enough of my own Poo??!?!
the Daughter has had to deal with watching her friends all go off to school. Again. And it hurts me. She’s dealt with a lot of her own Poo this year and is still learning from it. Not as quickly as mommy would like, but if she doesn’t do it in her own time, the lesson won’t be learned. After struggling and stressing over starting school in August, the decision was made to wait until October. To take care of a couple of things first, to get the slate clean and then focus every bit of energy on her school work and getting into a university that she chooses. I support her decision. I just wish the moments of clarity didn’t always have to come after a ripping argument with me. Ah, teenagers.
To all my adult friends, go now, go look at your parents/role models/probation officers/whatever, go look at them, tell them you love them, tell them you want to THANK THEM for all the heartache, all the frustrations and all the tears you caused. That as an adult, you can now see what they meant…
Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. Sorry I was a turd. Sorry I am still a turd. I wanna thank you for the groundings/beatings/shouting matches/taking of the car, phone, television privileges…I get that I was a shit as a teenager. It’s been repaid on me tenfold…(side note: Dad, as you look down on me from above, just a thump now an then would be better than the sledgehammer…just sayin’. Thanks!)
But we got through it all. Intact. I think.
Then the bottom falls out of my world.
As a precursor, many, many years ago, in talking to my dad, who I believe is the Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread, he charged me with one thing. And only one thing….“Stephanie, you take care of this family. I want you to promise me to always keep your family safe. No matter what is going on. You keep them safe.”
I agreed and through it all, I have never wavered. No matter how hard we fight, I got this. Don’t screw with my family. Genetic or otherwise, if I consider them family, leave ’em alone.
If you have been reading any of my posts, you know that my mom is my only living parent. There’s just a few of us left, at least a few that I am close to. As much as she drives me crazy, she is my mom. Period. End.of.story.
Mom tells me that she has to have her hip replaced. Ok. Only…
We’ve been through this before and I almost lost her. Several times. And my anxiety level went through the roof. I dare say, it’s not gone down much since…
I went through this with her about six years ago. I joke about it, but I do that now because then, I was scared shitless. Watching her as MRSA took over her body and almost cost her a leg. I watched as she went into renal failure and quietly, discreetly went and got tested to donate a kidney. I knew I had to do whatever it took to help her. And I prayed. Alot. Alot. Alot.
I don’t often admit when I get scared. And until now, I didn’t admit, this last trip, scared the shit out of me. I kept my phone charged. Waiting for THAT phone call. That she didn’t make it through surgery. And the thought of that terrified me.
Yet, she did. With flying colors. We only had one little hiccup. We had to admit her back to the hospital about 48 hours after being released for what they thought might be blood clots. The not knowing drove me to a very dark, very closed off place. The Girl sat with me, by my side for the better part of the day until she realized that in taking the Boy school shopping would take that pressure off of me and give me time to just sit and watch my mom. Not talking, just sitting, holding her hand and quietly praying…for hours.
I detest ER’s. I detest the condescending tone of the doctors. I hate the smell. I hate the waiting. I hate watching my mom cry in pain, in fear and for the unknown. I hate the loss of control….
“Stephanie, you take care of this family. I want you to promise me to always keep your family safe. No matter what is going on. You keep them safe.”
Not so surprisingly, the people who checked on me, checked on my mom…you guessed it, the Girl’s friends that I have now claimed, FULLY as my own. I am not talking about a “shout out” on Facebook or a text…no…they called, they texted and when I couldn’t respond, they reached out to the Girl, to check on ME!!!
Where were my friends, my family, you ask? Well, they sure as fuck weren’t there for me. No…why be there for me when you have used me up for all your bullshit.
And if any of my friends are shocked, are surprised or feel indignant…suck an egg.
I cannot believe the only folks that could be bothered have never met the woman in their lives. Not a single person who called, kept calling, kept reaching out, has EVER met my mother. Not once. Not one of them.
The anger I am reeling in right now is staggering. Just reliving it to put it in the blog has raised my blood pressure and renewed my desire for a cigarette and a really strong drink.
I get that folks have Poo in their lives, but not a one of my “buddies” thought to ask. Not a single one. Oh wait. Save for TWO…two that I have become close to in the last 10 months. TWO that I met through a job. And neither of them have met her. sweet….
So, I started a new job. Love said new job. Love new boss. He is awesome-sauce and I love that he calls me “Hotrod.” It makes me laugh. I have lots to do all the time. And I love the fact that I want to work hard, to make the new boss’ life easier, to make a mark and to have him say “I am so glad I hired you!” The only thing I don’t like is I miss my Ms. Rob Thomas and my Pagey…for the reason directly above and for so many more. They made the last job bearable and I can’t wait until I get to see them again, which had better be pretty damn soon!!!
We got the Boy to school. Which was a feat unto itself. We dropped him his first day, as instructed. Only to get a phone call three hours later that we needed to come pick him up, he wasn’t enrolled in middle school. WTF?!?!
So I get back to the school, get ANOTHER enrollment packet and take him home. It would piss me off so badly if I hadn’t filled it out before the end of last year, got confirmation that it had been received and now…it’s lost.
I get it all filled back out, and if you didn’t know, enrolling a child in PUBLIC schools is much like signing closing document on a home…it takes forever and you will sign your name no less than eleventy billion (shout out to Urs for the word) times on every imaginable form.
We get BACK to the school the next day, still trucking around a wheelbarrow FULL of supplies only to get to the registrar and to be told “They are showing your son to be repeating the FIFTH GRADE!” I thought he was gonna evaporate right there. And with one glance at the look on his panicked face, I lost.it.
I very “coolly” (not really) explained that he had been promoted and they needed to call the elementary school and work it out. They explained it was my responsibility. I explained that I paid my taxes, thereby for their salary. I had voted for their fucking bond package, thereby I voted for their affirmative action ass to be there…THEY needed to call. And quickly before I started breaking shit.
So “we” call the elementary school, to be put on hold. Call back, to be transferred. Call back, get “firm” and get the principal. It takes three more calls to get his final report card faxed over. And another two to get them to “release” him from their roll so the middle school can put him on their roll.
And the registrar actually had the nerve to say to me, “Oh, you are going to LOVE having him here, so much more than at the other middle school.”
I simply said, as pleasantly as I could “You should probably ask me that on another day, because today, I would rather home school him than leave him here.”
I hope it wasn’t the WRONG thing to say…
So it’s the third day, the Boy loves it. Has lots of friends, is in band and ROTC. I have another blog in the works about a conversation regarding following the directions between the Boy and the Girl…but this has been a been long already and I don’t want to “water down” the funny with such a bitchy post….
And don’t worry, there’s a Wal-Mart post a-brewing about me, school supplies and crying children.
Here’s to the drama being behind me. I survived it. And I am stronger and wiser for it.
Here’s to the people who love me and who I love more every day. Thank you for coming into my life.
Here’s to the Boy, the Daughter and the Girl. I couldn’t ask for three better loves in my life. You are each my rock. I will always need you. Always be there. Always love you.
Here’s to the faith that has seen me through these dark hours. Without my faith in God above, I don’t think I could have taken one more step on any given day. And I know in those moments of weakness, He held me close and whispered in my ear…
“You keep this family safe. I got your back. You.are.safe.”