Friday, October 23, 2009

It's been a while, I know. I haven't been feeling well. In fact, I've been feeling pretty much like I was beaten down with a dozen baseball bats. Surgery will do that to you, or so I've been told. As if being sawed in half wasn't enough my body has decided to welcome infection, to which my immune system bravely announced, "I SHALL FIGHT IT!" except it isn't doing a very good job at it, which is why, five weeks post surgery, I'm popping prescription pills like they're Skittles.

I'm not exactly warm & fuzzy when I feel like crap, so imagine how unbelievably thrilled I was when V told me just moments ago that he "has kind of a problem." Ok... "and I don't want to fight about it." Oh boy. This means only one thing:

His mother is unleashed.

Sure enough, tomorrow at 4pm she has an appointment at Sears to get family pictures taken. Now, you might be thinking that if you were wanting a picture of your entire fanmily you might ASK said members of the family IF and WHEN they are available. But not this Queen Bee. Oh no. That would never enter her mind.

It just gets under my skin so bad. First the callous approach to other human beings that she shares this planet with. She never stops to think people might have something to do other than wait to be beckoned by her. But what is even more upsetting to me is the way Big V melts into this spineless little boy who can't stand up to his mother. Needless to say we aren't going to be doing what we planned to be doing. Our plans have been bumped by the Queen Mother.

I used to hate my mother. HATE HER. I was a teenager overflowing with angst. My life sucked. Nothing was fair. My family lame. Nobody loved me. I had a big nose and wore dorky glasses - and it was all my mother's fault.

What a waste of time that was, blaming her. It was my own insecurities that I listened to. My mother was (and is) none of that. My mother taught me that the way you treat others is how they're going to treat you. That good manners is the best feature a person can have. She taught me that the only person accountable for the way my life is going is me. She taught me that I am not entitled to a thing, but rather if I wanted something I had to work at it. And that it might take awhile, so keep at it and don't give up.

She never coddled me. She never ridiculed me. She never spent time telling me I could've been this or that. Instead she took every mistake I made and every goal I reached as a reminder that I'm the only person responsible for my life.

Sometimes I think how unfair it is that I found this wonderful, amazing guy to share my life with that has the craziest mother on the planet. She's a drama queen, always a victim, and loves to pass judgment on everyone she comes across. I don't want any part of that nonsense. But maybe God put her in my life to remind me how wonderful my own family is.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Ok, so I've got issues with kids not giving me my much needed (and much deserved, I might add) Daily Quiet Time. The Bean has attitude that you wouldn't believe... she makes sure to tell me on a daily basis how rediculous I am, how unappreciated I am, and how the world, well, her world, would be much better off without me... and yet night after night I find myself held hostage by her noise and clatter. In and out of the kitchen, stomping down the hall, slamming doors, random talking to whoever or whatever she sees/hears as she wanders aimlessly (yet etirely pissed off) around the house.

Whatever happened to the moody teenager keeping themselves holed up in the privacy of their own room? Is it too much to ask that by 9:30pm the Bean creep into her room, close the door, and not open it until morning? I don't care what she does in her room.... do her nails, pick out her clothes for the next day, write journal entries how she wishes I was dead. Doesn't matter... as long as I get some peace and quiet. Some much needed down time from her attitude.

For the past two years I've tried to explain this to her. Her aunt has tried to explain this to her. The Big V has tried to explain this to her. Hell, I've asked random strangers on the street to try to explain this to her.

All I ask is for a quitting time. A time when I can look forward to not hearing whatever complaint is coming out of her mouth. Just a little reprieve....

Man, I hope she does to college out of state....

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Woe is You? Whatever.

Welcome to Vent Time, Ladies and Gentlemen. It is time for me to blow off steam. Using my current hormonal imbalance due to recent pregnancy/delivery, I'm going to be quite blunt. Therefore, it is with very little reservation that I say this:


Don't come to me complaining about how little money you have if every day you are going out to eat not once, but twice. I've been there... I ate noodles. Generic egg noodles. Mixed with generic cream of chicken soup for added flavor. I splurged on a bottle of seasoning salt that had hot sauce mixed in to kick things up a notch. I ate that every single day. We also had no television. None. I was a single mom who was poor, and I had no tv and I ate noodles. I am unable to sympathize for how financially strapped you are when you eat better than I do.

Don't come to me complaining about how little money you have, how you have to get your food from the local food pantry, when this next weekend you're packing up your husband and three kids to a weekend getaway at a waterpark resort. See, I, too, was there, where I had difficulty buying groceries to feed my kids. I didn't go on vacations. I am unable to sympathize for how financially strapped you are when you travel more often than I do.

And please, PLEASE, don't come to me complaining about how little money you have when you don't work more than twelve hours in a week. Especially if I know family members have offered to watch your children for free so you can work more hours. See, I was there once. My mom and my aunt helped me out by watching my daughter for free so that I could work a full time job AND a part time job. It sucked. Really, it did. I had no social life. I barely saw my daughter. But then I realized that it was MY responsibility to care for her, and that meant working my butt off to pay for her expenses. Yes, I worked. I still do. I am unable to sympathize for how financially strapped you are when you have more time off to enjoy yourself than I do.

There. I feel better now.

Friday, October 2, 2009

What to do?

It's about time to do something (read: anything) with my hair. My paranoid self refused to color my hair the entire time I was pregnant, so I've got this lovely grey spattering going on. I also was worried a pedicure would bring on early labor, so I went the entire summer without. The bottoms of my feet are so rough I could probably pimp myself out to sand some wood floors just by walking around on them. I didn't tan all summer either. (I know, I know: bad for you. But it's just so relaxing...) And, since the major items were being ignored, I allowed the minor items to be ignored as well.

A manicure would be nice. A massage. A facial. Eyebrow wax. Maybe some teeth whitening while we're at it. Geesh, if I actually had the money I could leave for the day, come back, and V would have no idea who I was. Not a bad plan, now that I think of it. Perhaps an appointment shall be made.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Lesser of Evils

It's no secret that V's P's don't think highly of me. Actually, it's his mom and sister (his dad is pretty silent when it comes to voicing an opinion of me). The good news is that his mother treats most everyone she meets the way she treats me: highly judgmental, and not afraid to criticize pretty much anything she sees. I've never heard a true compliment coming out of her mouth for as long as I've known her. She treats V worse than she treats me, but he's used to it, I guess. I, however, am not.

And so it is with great reservation that I must let go of my newborn son and somehow be okay with him visiting Grandma Nothing's Ever Good Enough. I figure the best way to do this is have V take the baby while I spend some quality me time at a really great day spa. One that provides unlimited glasses of a chilled German Riesling along with my pedicure and massage. Now, if I require V to foot the bill perhaps the visits will be limited due to financial constraints.

The One in which I take my Father for his Covid Vaccine

I got a voicemail the other day from the hospital saying ‘since you’re the contact on record we just want you to know your Dad can get a Cov...