So the last post, Mr. W and I were basically done.  Finished.  *sniff* Over.  Long story short, I begged and pleaded, we agreed to give it another go, had fabulous make-up sex, and were happy again.   But then that evil wedding monster started climbing back out of its hole and gnawing at our ankles.  Money, stress.  Stress, money.  Planning, planning, planning.  MELTDOWN!  After 2 anxiety attacks in less than a week, Mr. W was ready to commit me, or at the very least heavily medicate me!

Last night we agreed to call the whole thing off.  We would attempt to get some of the money back that we’d put in, but were ok if it didn’t work out that way.  Better to have our sanity and each other than to sink even more money into something we may not both survive to even see.  (I’m being a little dramatic here…a little…)  The biggest problem was the $800 in non-refundable, non-transferable plane fare that his mom just shelled out for the trip here.  She’s not as much in a place to be just “ok” with losing that kind of money.  But, we intended to pay her back, re-compensate anyone else who put any significant amount of money into this whole fiasco, and call it a day.  And then, somewhere down the line, when the stars align and the moon is full and Earth is in the shadow of Mars on the third Saturday of an even month…  we would elope.  Or rather, Mr. W’s version of eloping which includes all four kids, my mom to take care of the kids, probably his mom because she’s always wanted to go to Vegas, my dad because, hey, LA is just right there, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  Can you say “lots of money?”  So not the point.  But that was to be discussed at a later, more suitable (i.e. less stressful) time.

Then it hit me:

We probably aren’t going to get a refund on the venue or the photographer.  Mom-n-fam’s plane tickets are lost without use on THAT weekend (damn Delta and their jacked up policies to steal money…), and neither of us really want to break the news to our families.  Why not reduce our evil wedding monster with a guest list of over 100 people back to a small, informal, family only affair that we both had pictured in the back of our minds to begin with.  Damn wedding industry and their manipulative, more-is-better-and-less-is-crap ways!  So I put it to Mr. W………………and he smiled again!  All planning can be done by the end of next week.  There is a kitchen at the venue, so we can cook a family style meal, set up 2 or 3 tables (instead of 14, plus buffet tables, plus DJ table…..) and have a small ceremony in the garden with our $100 minister.  I get my fancy pictures.  He gets the Wal-Mart special paper plates.  Our families get to meet, and we all get to smile together.  We don’t lose the money, and we don’t lose our minds (or each other) in the process.  Case closed.  Happy again. 

Now I just have to figure out how to tell all our friends…damn wedding industry and their etiquette and “things to do.”  Stupid “Save-the-Date” cards!

I do not want to be here, Sam-I-Am. 

I had a fabulous weekend.  Starting Thursday, I had a much needed bonding evening with the girls over a margarita before heading home.  Friday brought a night out with more folks from work, soothing some of those rough edges that exist between us on any normal day.  Saturday was my “birthday” of sorts…Mr. W took me on a dinner cruise on the Potomac, followed by a romantic evening in a fancy hotel…The Mandarin Oriental.  Beautiful.  It was a wonderful evening all around.  Sunday, we headed home and opted for dinner out and a movie with the older kids:  Inception.  Really good movie.  So why am I crying in the ladies room?

Well, Monday was strained.  Sunday’s dinner, and probably the mass quantities of alcohol I consumed from Thursday onward, left my belly a little “unhappy.”  It’s actually still a little unhappy.  So I stayed home, with Mr. W (his every-other-Monday off) and the two older kids.  We ran errands, went to lunch, discovered Mr. W has high cholesterol and a fatty liver, and began getting “short” around 4 or 5 pm.  But we maintained.  The kids went back to their mom’s, so I thought maybe this would be an opportunity (empty house) to continue the wonderfully frisky trend that the weekend prompted.  No such luck…we ended up going to bed mad, although I’m not sure what about, and waking up even worse.  Long story short, the car ride to work this morning had us both shouting, me in tears, and us splitting up…sorta…I think. 

But it’s not that simple.  Our lives are so intertwined that we can’t just “break up.”  We are dependant on each other in every facet of life.  We share everything, and I really do mean everything.  We have kids to think about.  We have a 2 year lease on a house neither of us can afford alone.  We share bills, food, childcare, everything.  Well, everything, it seems, except what’s important. 

We fight, a lot.  We don’t communicate.  Most days we would probably both agree we don’t know each other at all.  So why are we together?  Well, there’s love.  I do love my Mr. W.  With all my heart and should, I love him.  I wouldn’t have let myself get so tied up if I didn’t.  He wouldn’t be my home if I didn’t.  (For as long as I can remember, “home” was my parents’ home…until Mr. W.  I would get ridiculously home sick within months of visiting, and would visit at least twice a year, every year, since I left in 1999.  But now, when I think of “home,” I think of him.)  But love doesn’t seem to be enough.

I asked him this morning if he wanted to be done.  He said yes.  I said I was going to leave.  He didn’t say no.  I told him I loved him.  He stayed quiet.  And then I got hit by a bus:

Him: You must have known this was coming. 

Me: What? Why?

Him: Well, why haven’t you sent out the invitations to the wedding yet?  You must have known this was coming since you haven’t sent them out.

Me: (granted, in hysterics)  WHAT?  I haven’t sent them because you are supposed to send them 6 weeks before the wedding.  If you don’t want to marry me, why didn’t you just tell me.  If you don’t love me, why don’t you just tell me.  If you don’t want this anymore, WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST TELL ME?! 

Him: Oh.

Somehow that said it all.  He was expecting this?  He was waiting for this?  He had an inkling this was going to happen?  Why not say something?  WTF?  Was he just waiting for me to?  I can’t even begin to understand this.  “Hey, there’s a bus coming, but she probably knows that, so I’ll just watch while it runs her down.”  Fan-fucking-tastic.  Obviously, if you read my blog, you know I’ve got baggage.  You know I’m nuts.  You know I’m a bitch and raving lunatic at times.  Apparently he does not.  Apparently he thought I was a Stepford.  Apparently all the apologies in the world will never be enough.  Apparently my insanity has driven another one away.  2 years 6 months.  Yep, that’s about right.  So what the hell do I do now?  I can’t leave.  I can’t stay.  Money is lost, and will continue to be.  I’m lost, and will continue to be.  So what happens now?  What happens when I get home?  What happens when he gets home?  What happens tomorrow?  I can’t concentrate.  I can’t think.  I can’t function.

And crying alone in the ladies room is just so damned cliche!

This may be my last at-work written blog post for awhile, well at least this will be the last week I’m able to blog at work.  Not that I’ve been writing much lately anyway, but…

I’ve been ridiculously busy, with the ever impending wedding and the total lack of preparation on my part, with my multiple tasks with “yesterday,” or completely non-existent, deadlines, with a house that, 2 months after we moved in, is still in no way, shape, or form organized…or even completely unpacked, and with a new, short-ish notice transfer to a different department that I still haven’t gotten a straight answer on when it’s actually supposed to happen. 

While I am totally stoked about the transfer (it gives me multiple opportunities for learning new things, expanding my skill set, and therefore resume, and a promise of a pretty decent raise in the nearrrrrrr-ish future), I am not totally stoked about my office-mates’ reactions to my move.  Not everyone, mind you.  My actual friends are truly happy for me.  They share at least somewhat in my excitement, and at the very least support me in this whole thing.  My actual friends are, as always, wonderful.  But then there are those who I thought were my friends.  Silly me! 

Friend.  How do you define it?   Dictionary.com says:

Well, in regards to my current work-mates, 1 and 2 just go out the door.  3 is iffy on any given day.  4 is passable, and 5, well, let’s just leave 5 out of this.  In all honesty, I wouldn’t have previously called all of my work-mates “friends,” otherwise why would I refer to them as “work-mates?”  But I did previously call many of them friends, and those are the ones whose recent attitude, reaction, whatever is bothering me the most.  Are we really that far removed?  Is this comraderie that we share really that shallow?  Or is it simply petty immaturity?  Or maybe I’m being ridiculously oversensitive…NO!  That’s not even a possibility! 

Let me explain.  On-again-off-again friendships around here happen often.  Whatever.  It’s the nature of the beast.  But suddenly, coincidentally coinciding directly with the news of my move, I’m getting a severe case of the cold shoulders everywhere I turn.  There is no polite conversation.  There is no “how was your weekend.”  There isn’t even eye contact.  And I swear whenever I walk into a room, out to the smoke pit, towards an area where any group or individual is hovering, said group or individual scatters at my presence.  What the F is that about?  Really?  I’m going to a different office so now you have NOTHING to say to me?  We can’t be pseudo-friends?  You can’t even manage a polite “hello”?  I give up.

I’ve decided I’m past the point of caring…but really I’m not.  Not even a little.  It hurts, people.  These are people I’ve spend the most time with over the last 3 or so years.  These are the people I’ve had actual conversations with on a daily basis (til now).  Most of these people I thought I could depend on in a pinch, call if I was in trouble, reach out to for help…but yeah, apparently not so much.  I don’t make friends easily.  I don’t open up often.  I don’t trust many.  And for anyone that I consider a friend or that I open up to or trust, even a little, to suddenly, inexplicably just cut off all interaction…it feels like a punch to the gut.  And there are multiples of them. 

Ah, well…this too shall pass, right?  Moving on and moving up and all that other happy horse-shit.  No biggie.  I’m a big girl and I’ve lived through much worse in  my life than a few hurt feelings.  Hmmm…maybe there’s still time to save some money on the headcount for the wedding….

I had a detailed post done two days ago explaining all this, but when I was a spell-check away from publishing, my computer shit itself and all was lost.  Hrumph.  Yeah, it’s been that kind of week. Month. Year?  Bear with me as I try to recap…

Moving, wedding, teenagers, the boy and the girl, too many projects at work, finances, Mr. W…I think that was all.  You know, basically everything that encompasses my everyday!  No biggie.

We move in 9 days.  We aren’t packed.  I packed 9 boxes in the last two days and besides the boxes sitting in there, you wouldn’t know it.  We don’t have a truck.  We don’t have definite moving help.  We don’t have someone to rent our house.  WTF?!  And I’m about 3 inches from blowing up on someone about it.  Someone being Mr. W unfortunately as he is pretty good at being a target of opportunity.  Not that he’s totally innocent, but still, I’m holding back.  Things promise to be better, much better once we move…and as much as I want to believe promises, part of me is always skeptical.

The wedding is in just over 100 days.  We don’t have a DJ.  We don’t have invitations.  We don’t have tables, chairs, a tent, or any other rental stuff.  We don’t have garments except for my dress and shoes, which is unwearable until it’s tailored.  And we are slacking on the desire to have a wedding at all.  (Talk of doing the elope thing has been flung around lately) What do we have? A minister and a location.  Sweet.  September 25th promises to be number 3 on my “best day ever” list when all is said and done, but that’s not for another 100 plus days.

Teenagers…need I say more?  I love them, but they are teens, and teens bring drama.  I think it may be part of their lifeblood.  I remember my teen years vividly (well, the ones that aren’t clouded by chemicals anyway…) and I have hold no grudge to any other teen…but still.  And the little ones, again, need I say more?  The girl got Lyme from me so now I am forced to watch her go through what I did and feel nothing but pure, unadulterated guilt for “infecting” her.  And the boy, well, one more month until the end of the school year, which means a summer away with his dad. 

Work is work is work.  And finances are finances.  I spread myself too thin in both areas and then suffer the wrath of my own decisions after.  I could kick my own ass for it, but really, what good would that do? 

And Mr. W…relates to all of the above.  Stress is contagious, but when we both have it, it only multiplies exponentially.  I long for my loving man who is just so overtired these days that he seems to be in hibernation…permanently. 

I passed by his old apaprtment the other day, and ever since have been reminiscing on our time there.  It was small and humble, but I have nothing but fond memories of those four walls.  We got to know each other there.  We fell in love there.  We had “our” time there.  Yes, we had fights and heartbreaks and even broke up more than a couple times, but there were far more wonderful days, and nights, in those spaces.  And I miss them so.  We were genuinely excited by, and about each other there.  We held each other up.  We cared and loved and were one. 

Today I picked up a package from the post office.  When the lady brought it to me, she had a giant grin on her face and asked if it was a diploma or some other equally exciting document.  I told her I hoped so, and then ripped open the package right there while she gave me an impromptu drum roll.    And it was!  As the lady at the post office applauded and showered me with congratulatory praise, I opened my official Bachelor of Science diploma, beaming, I’m sure!  Yea!  I brought it to work to show off, and my dear, dear friend and maid of honor, C, has been announcing it wherever we go, bringing out smiles and praise and congratulations from all around me.  Finally getting hold of Mr. W, I gave him my wonderful news, to which I was first ignored, then given a half ass, forced, not even trying to show any emotion at all (unless boredom is an emotion) “yea, you got your diploma.” Period**.  Hmmm….if I hadn’t already been choking back tears for days and therefore mastered the art, I’m sure that would have brought on quite the waterworks.  Nice.  Well, at least my less than personal friend co-workers are happy for me. 

**His excuse? “You graduated months ago and haven’t been excited or brought it up until today.”  Well today I got my Pretty Piece of Paper!  My countless hours, thousands of dollars, and days off my life due to stress have amounted to something concrete, finally.  Excuse my hopes for some small amount of validation.  *Sigh*

Happy New Year!

So I’ve been slacking on, like, everything.  Seriously.  EVERYTHING.  And I need to stop.  I can make a buh-gillion excuses as to why I’ve been slacking, but it all comes down to this: 

I’m still slacking. 

And it needs to stop.

So my New Year’s resolution?  To stop slacking, of course!  I know, I know.  There is all the well-intentioned advice out there about not making vague resolutions.  “Be specific and you are more likely to succeed,” they say.  Well, “they” aren’t me, so…yeah.  Besides, I can be specific in my Ways Of Not Slacking, or WONS for short.  You know, like “wins” but in the past tense so it’s like I’ve already won.  Positive thinking at its best!

My things to end the slack on, or WONS:

• Smoking.  I need to stop the slack on quitting smoking.  Nuff said.
• Medicine.  I need to stop the slack on my meds.  I’ve been so busy trying to pretend I’m not sick that I’ve all but given up on all my “feel better” supplements and stuff.  And guess what?  I’m not feeling any better!
• Organization and planning.  I need to stop the slack on being organized.  There is one more class until I graduate, a move, and a wedding in my near future and if I’m going to get it all done without landing in the loony bin, I’m going to have to do some serious brushing up on those O and P skills.
• Speaking of the wedding.  I need to stop the slack on wedding planning.  With the recent addition of my dear friend and maid-o-honor, C, to my locale, the wedding planning, or lack there of, has been coming up in conversation a lot.  9 months, no budget set, no venue, no dress, no plans.  oops.  Well, at least I know the colors…maybe…possibly…
• Sleeping.  I need to stop the slack on my sleep.  I should be getting at least 8 hours.  It would be better if I got 9 or 10, under my present health condition.  I’m lucky if I give myself 6.  It’s gotta stop! 
• Name change.  I need to stop the slack on changing my name.  While I won’t be changing my name to “Mrs. W” when we get married, I should probably complete the name change process from my last marriage, which officially ended, oh, about 9 months ago. 
• Nutrition.  I need to stop the slack on good nutrition.  My kids need it.  I desperately need it.  Mr. W needs it.  Healthy food makes for healthy, happy bodies, makes for healthy, happy minds, makes for healthy, happy people.  I can do it…and so I must.
• Me.  I need to stop the slack on me.  I need to stop doing the things that make me feel like crap (smoking, not resting enough, getting behind on everything, eating like crap) and start doing things that make me feel good (supplements, acupuncture, massage, exercise, meditation, eating and sleeping well…hell, even getting a pedicure if it will make me sit and rest for an hour!) 

It’s a full circle.  If I can concentrate on the little bits, the overall picture will get better.  If I can work on me, all those around me will reap the rewards.  A rested mommy wants to play more.  A happy fiancee d0esn’t bite your head of for little no reason.  An emotionally sound friend can be there when you need her.  A healthy daughter can save leave for vacations and visits instead of using it on sick days. 

The guilt of how I’ve been treating my loved ones weighs heavily on me.  The guilt of how I’ve been treating myself does too.  If I can stop the slack, just one small thing at a time, the “WONS” will really be WON!

Mr. W and I have been together for two years, give or take a couple days/weeks/…  Ok, so we don’t know the exact date of our anniversary, and by this time next year we will be married (or at least that’s the plan) so it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things sort of way.  We went out on our first date sometime in November, before Thanksgiving of 2007, and ended up officially together at some point thereafter without even really realizing it.  So the anniversary day is all sort of fuzzy.  Last year, he was in Iraq and sent me surprise flowers for our one-year.  (Awww, ain’t he sweet?!) But this year…this year is different.

IT’S LIKE PULLING FREAKING TEETH TO GET HIM TO AKNOWLEDGE THE THING!

What is it about men?  Seriously, there are a couple times a year you guys have to suck it up and pretend (convincingly, convincinglyis important!) that you are into all that relationship-y mushy stuff:  Valentine’s Day,  birthday,  anniversary, and possibly New Years Eve (you know, the kissing thing at midnight…which I’ve never done coincidentally…).  That’s basically it.  Four events a year to feign excitement for.  FOUR!  I mean, I get it, ya’ll aren’t into it.  “It’s just another day.”  “It’s just a holiday for girls.”  “It’s something Hallmark and the chocolate people made up to make money.”  Whatever!  Suck it up and tell her you love her already.  Do or say that thing you know makes her weak in the knees and all fluttery in the tummy.  You know what it is.  Besides, you’ll probably get something out of it in the end anyway. 

We sort of picked a day last year which ended up being the day he sent flowers.  Made sense.  Of course neither of us kept track of the day, so this year I’ve made several attempts, in vain, to pin down a day for “us,” for celebration.  Mr. W keeps insisting on Thanksgiving, but:

1. I don’t want to share “our” day with any other National holiday.
2. Thanksgiving isn’t the same date every year.
3. You can’t go out for a romantic dinner on Thanksgiving because if family doesn’t happen to be involved in your plans, the local Chinese fast food place is probably going to be the only option.
4. We are spending Thanksgiving this year with his family, after a long road trip to Michigan, with four kids in the car, at a hotel, with same said four kids…not so romantic to me.  And it’s all about the romance, DAMMIT!

Very rarely am I that “girly-girl.”  But, I do like me some romance from time to time.  I’m allowed.  I make up for it in other ways.  I’m not going to list those ways right now (or probably ever) but just trust  me, I do make up for it.  And now I’m at my very familiar, too familiar, annoyingly familiar crossroad:  Do I hold out and demand what I want, or do I just say F*%@ it and give up?  With everything else going on in my life, I’m tempted to hold out for at least one thing…but who am I kidding?  With everything else going wrong in my life.  Disappointingly, dishearteningly, disgruntled-ly wrong…I’m most likely going to go with the latter, you know, for consistency’s sake. 

*sigh…*

update:  Shortly after posting this, I got an email from the folks at homeaway.com.  The subject line was this:  “Re-Ignite the Passion with a Couples Getaway.”  Hmmm…have they been reading?

The so-called “honeymoon phase” of a relationship is a grand and wonderful thing.  Everything seems to fall away in the presence of, or even a mere thought of that new(ish) someone special.  One can easily pass hours, days, weeks without even realizing.  Time is easily filled with just being together.  *sigh* And how long does it last?  I guess it’s different for different people in different situations.  I suppose it could easily go on for years with a young couple in the prime of their lives and careers, with no kids or severe responsibilities.  When talking and love-making are all that’s really important. 

Someone recently told me “you can’t stop the Earth from spinning.”  It’s true.  You can’t.  I’ve tried.  Oh, to hold on to those honeymoon times forever.  To shed responsibility and live in the rapture that is new love.  It feels almost as if the Earth has stopped spinning for those moments…almost.  But in the end it all comes back into focus in jarring reality.  Life does in fact go on, and responsibilities still sit at your door and wait for you, no matter how long it takes for you to come out. 

Mr. W and I have a fantastic relationship.  In the beginning, we were fully enchanted with the honeymoon stages of things.  Responsibilities fell away and things like sleep just didn’t feel important.  Of course, this was also before the boy started school and my kids were still on the 2 weeks here, 2 weeks there rotation, so, no, I did not totally cast off all responsibility for a piece of ass, thank you very much.  Anyway.  Right around the time we moved in together and he left for Iraq, all that slowing of the Earth on its axis snapped back with full force and we’ve been struggling to recover ever since. 

There are: kid issues, health issues (oh, my are there health issues!), a need for sleep that can’t be ignored, insomnia (on both our parts), schedules with my exes, schedules with his ex, schedules with work, schedules with family, pets, holidays, time off, sick time, working, college, schools, housework, yard work, financial issues, stresses from all sides, creative transportation arranging (i.e. carting kids here and there), doctors appointments for 6 different people, dentist appointments, braces, learning to drive, buying a car, buying a house, selling a house, moving, storing, decluttering, organizing, Christmas shopping, dinners, lunches, groceries, cooking, planning, exercising, not exercising, great intentions and epic fails…the list of life goes on and on…and on.

It all seems to have come at once, knocking us square on our asses, struggling to regain our footing in the world, that damn spinning world.  But we are doing it together.  We are side by side in all of it, helping each other get a foothold here, dragging each other down as we slip there, but together through it all.  In the end, what more could you really ask for? 

I don’t think a successful relationship can be judged purely on happiness.  Seriously.  No one, no one in the world is 100% happy 100% of the time.  It’s not possible.  Unless they secretly found a way to stop the Earth from spinning and are happily living in one of their moments of happiness, but I highly doubt it.  The glory of life is it’s ups and downs.  How can you possibly know how good things are now if they’ve never been bad?  How can you know true happiness if you’ve never felt sadness?  How can you  know the true height of joy if you’ve never seen the true depth of despair?  Good and evil must coexist in order to be, so how could the same not hold true to the other pairs?  Mr. W and I have both been to the lowest of lows and have come out the other side fully ready to appreciate the high that is us.  We’ve had heartbreak and have mended each other’s hearts.  We’ve had despair and brought tears of joy to each other’s eyes.  We’ve been broken and have worked to put each other back together again.  That’s just how we roll. 

The best of the best?  We are just there.  Through the hard and the bad and the sad and the stressing, we are there.  No time in our relationship (so far) has been harder than now.  But we are still there.  All those things I listed above, all those responsibilities and “problems,”  yeah, we’ve got them.  Even without the added external stresses (kids, jobs, schools, etc, etc) we have quite literal “shit” going on just with us, or more to the point, me.  My Lyme disease = pain (physical for me, emotional for him), moodiness on both sides, stress, worry, and more stress, financial difficulty (yeah, doctors’ bills.  Gotta love ‘em!), and limits in just about everything, and really, who likes having limits?  But he’s there.  He’s here.  He stands by me.  Yes, sometimes he has trouble accepting his role of stand-next-to-er and tries to do that man thing of trying to fix everything.  But he’s working on that.  I can see where it’s hard to be helpless in all this.  To witness so much pain and suffering and not be able to do a thing about it.  I understand. 

And he tries. 

And we do it all together.  As best friends, as lovers, as soul-mates, as the most wonderful us we can be.  Together. 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************** 

I’m getting my chest port/Groshong catheter put in on Friday morning.  I’m freaking the hell out!  He quit smoking already, for me, and for him, and for me.  He said he finally has a reason to want to live a long healthy life.  All together now: *awwww*    I’m quitting too, although not as abruptly, or successfully.  But it’s hard to quit when you are freaking the hell out about something less than a week away.  He gets it without my explanation.  He accepts my weakness and loves me still.  Would you still love me if I were 400lbs?  Would you still love me if I lost all my hair?  Will you still love me when I’m old?  Will you still love me with a 4″ long tube sticking out of my chest? 

Of course he will.  And I call him Mr. Wonderful!

I’m having so many issues dealing with the boy lately.  Well, we, as in the couple-y we, are having issues dealing with the boy.  He is whiny and disrespectful and totally ignores everything we say, repeat, scream-at-the-top-of-our-lungs.  He fights constantly over everything.  Eating, sleeping, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, getting in the car, getting out of the car, putting his coat on, putting his shoes on, drinking water, juice, milk, soda (yeah, I don’t give him soda but his dad does.  That’s where the fight comes from).  It NEVER. ENDS.  EVER. 

Yesterday I smacked him in the shower.  It was ridiculous.  I swear he was doing (or not doing) everything he possibly could to piss me off.  I swear he was doing it on purpose.  Ok, yes.  I realize he is 5 going on 6 and probably (definitely) doesn’t have thoughts that complex and vindictive.  But at 6 am, after days, weeks, months of fighting and yelling and threatening, it just really seems that way.  And at dinner last night, we took a trip to the bathroom to discuss what was and was not going to happen for the rest of the night.  It sort of worked.

I am battling within myself with all of this.  I am a daddy’s girl through and through, and I can’t help but draw from the parenting I received as a child.  My dad’s way of thinking goes something like this:  I am the parent and you are the child. Period.  You don’t argue with a child.  There is no option.  The parent talks and the child listens and obeys.  Failing that, the parent makes the child listen, even if it takes some additional “punctuation” to get the point across.  My visits to the bathroom with my dad were much less about talking and much more about punctuation, not-so-fondly referred to as “boot therapy.”  It’s just the way things were.  My dad gave it to me much kinder than he received from his father.  My grandfather was more of the closed-fist punch  now, oh, yeah, and no talking later.  I’ve heard that I was the first child he ever hugged…or smiled at…  He had 4 of his own.

I don’t want to spank my kids.  I’ve fought the urge with (mostly) success.  Mostly.  But some days, more often lately, it’s just, difficult.  How do you convince a 5 year old to listen?  It’s not as if you can use logic.  It’s not as if they will just trust that you know what’s best.  There is threatening, but even that comes up empty in the end.  What can I take, what can I do, how do I punish, or even better, how do we get past this to avoid any need for punishment in the first place? 

• Time outs: don’t work.  They sit, and then they get up and seem to forget those 4, 5, 6 minutes even happened. 
• Grounding: doesn’t work.  (see above).  Plus I hate it.  Ground one kid and the whole family loses from it.  No excursions.  No playing.  No fun. 
• Taking things that are precious:  doesn’t work.  (see above again)  Plus there is always something else to play with.  In a pinch, my kids can play with a sock and a pencil for hours.  They are just creative that way.

Obviously yelling and screaming doesn’t do anything.  It makes for tears and bad feelings, usually on the part of all parties involved.  And then it just happens again.  And spanking.  Just not an option.  When I’m in a pinch, I can usually use my words and logic to get the point across, to get someone to agree with me and do as I say.  Yeah, not so much with the kids.  So what is left? 

And the whole thing is draining.  I’m tired.  Mr. W is tired.  The boy is tired.  We are cranky.  We are stubborn.  We are not thinking clearly.  It all snowballs on itself, day after day after week after month.  We are being slowly crushed under the weight of the massive, growing snowball.  It just sucks.  It feels like we can’t even dig ourselves out at this point.  It feels like spring will never come to melt some of this weight.  It feels, bad.  All relationships are suffering.  Mr. W and I are fighting.  The boy wants to trade Mr. W in for a cat.  The boy thinks I don’t love him because he’s bad, no matter how many times I tell him I do, more than anything in the world I do.  Mr. W thinks the boy doesn’t like him, and the cat thing doesn’t help.  I’m trying to balance my relationship with the two men in my life while simultaneously balancing their relationship as a pseudo-go-between for them.  It’s all just so very draining. 

Help?

Trust is a strange animal.  Just when you think you have tamed the beast.  House trained it.  Gotten it to eat from your hand…it bites your hand right off.  Bucks you to the ground.  Mauls you in front of your friends.  Ok, so I had a moment.  Maybe I have many moments, but they most of them pass by without a second thought.  This moment, not so much.

Mr. W and I have an open door policy to all of our so-called private areas.  Head out of the gutters, folks.  Not those private areas (although we have that too) but the private areas like email accounts, facebook, my blog, bank accounts, phones (calls and texts).  Those private areas.  I know all his passwords and pins and what nots, and he knows mine.  We have no qualms about the other randomly checking in.  Honestly.  Honesty.  Full disclosure.  (it’s how we tame the beast.)  Most of the time, we don’t access what is openly accessible, because the animal is curled up on the rug in front of the fire snoring away in perfect tranquility.  Most of the time.  But something stirred for me yesterday…

We’ve been (he’s been) working with a lawyer to get “her” name off the deed to his/our house.  The paperwork came back yesterday, so I looked at it out of simple curiosity.  Yea!  Free and clear.  “She” is no longer attached in any way to our life.  As I scanned the page, I subconsciously, or maybe consciously…who knows, noted “her” phone number.  Minutes later, I realized that Mr. W had left his cell in my car charging.  Hmmm… So in the brief minutes of driving separately to IHOP for dinner* the animal woke completely and apparently wanted something to gnaw on…say, like my hand.  As I scrolled through recent calls, “her” number was there.  He called her.  Monday.  But why?  He hadn’t mentioned anything to me about it.  He always does.  Why? 

There are two things you should know here, which you may already know, or not. 

1.  She has a blog.  I read it.  It’s like a car crash.  I just can’t help myself!  She recently posted about wanting to break up with her current beau and an unnamed ex popping back up into her life in misery about his own current relationship.  He called her.  They drank together… Mr. W had drill two weekends ago in that neck of the woods………
2. The first time the animal attacked was the last time I took a walk through Mr. W’s cell phone.  It was over a year ago, and I found out about an earth-shattering heart-shattering small indiscretion on his part…involving “her” and a late night visit… I forgave him then, and I still forgive him. 

So those two thoughts in my head, combined with my own normal insecurity, combined with my new insecurities about all the stress I’ve brought into Mr. W’s life (kids, bad habits, health issues, etc, etc) gave the animal a dose of crack with a sugar chaser and it promptly bit my hand clean off.  Needless to say, in the name of honesty and openness, I waited a whole day and asked Mr. W about the found call this morning.  He explained.  It made 100% sense.  I’m nursing my (self-inflicted) wounds, and the animal is back sleeping cozily by the fire.  Or is it?

I think trust is one of those animals you can never quite be sure is tame.  Kind of like a wildebeest or a bobcat or a polar bear.  The slightest wrong move, wrong thought can send it off on a rampant killing spree, randomly mauling all the innocent (presumably) bystanders in its path.  A friend asked me if I have trust issues.  She asked if I trust Mr. W.  Without hesitation, my answer is yes.  But then why did I look in his phone?  I could say it’s because of that one incident, but then why did I look then?  Why do I read her blog?  Why do I think those thoughts?  Do I really not trust him?  But I do! 

I trust Mr. W with my life, my love, my children, my heart, my everything.  He is all of those things to me and so much  more.  Ok, so not my child, per se, but I have the same loving affection and caring for him as I do for my children so in a way, kind of.  When he gave me the explanation of the call, I believed him immediately.  Not an ounce of hesitation.  That’s trust, right?  When he told me about the first incident, I was hurt, crushed really, but I never questioned the end of the story.  (Well, maybe not out loud) He told me that’s what happened, and I believed him.  I believe him.  I trust him.  But then…why…?

Is it possible to trust completely?  Is it possible never, ever to doubt, to wonder, to question?  Can we as humans do it?  Can I?  Can you?

*The boy thought pancakes for dinner at IHOP was the greatest invention EVER!

I know it’s been awhile, but, yeah, life is sucking right now.  Well, not totally sucking, but stressful.  Totally stressful.  And a little bit of sucking.  Adding to the stress.  So overall…

First the good news:

The boy does not have Lyme Disease!!  Yea!!  But the bad news accompanying it: He does have an Iron deficiency.  Which would explain his extreme tiredness and general crankiness, all. the. time.  But that means he needs another blood test to see exactly what the deficiency is and how bad.  Yeah, suckiness.

Also on the good news front, we may be selling the house, like soon.  We got an official offer two days ago and are now hashing out the details of the deal.  Yea!  But the stress with it: we have to find a new house (to buy or rent) pack this house, and move by the end of November.  Yeah, suckiness.  The possible buyers are first-timers so they are hoping to get in on that $8000 tax thing that ends November 30th.  Yea!  Nothing like a rush to get your blood pumping!  Did I mention suckiness?

So, some good news, but a lot of stress.  Stress is great.  It’s wonderful.  It helps with sleep, and bodily healing, and relationships and everything! (I figure if I keep saying it maybe it will come true…)

And then there is the Lyme, which pretty much encompasses everything bad in my life.  Ever.  Seriously.

So, I’m not getting better.  This all started in July, and 3 months later I’m actually getting worse.  The pain, while not as severe (or maybe it is and my tolerance is just getting higher) is getting more widespread.  Like my entire body. The. Whole. Thing.  So there’s that.  But also, I’m getting new symptoms.  I think I mentioned my spinal tap, you know, when they removed my spinal fluid from my spine! Yeah, that was fun.  Anyway, it came back negative for MS, and also for brain damage.  Yea, right?  But wait, there’s more.  I’m having increased neurological symptoms. Memory lapses, poor short and long term memory.  Temper flares (severe).  Mood swings (also severe).  Difficulty (major) concentrating on anything. Speech problems.  Not actually speaking, but finding words..simple words.  Even typing this is difficult at the moment.  So no brain damage…yet.  Pain is part to blame for the mood swings and general brain fog too.  It’s very distracting to be in pain all. the. time.  I’ve heard that when you break something or experience some severe trauma that your brain shuts off the pain receptors to protect you.  That doesn’t seem to be the case for long term pain.  Long term, fluctuating, total body pain.  Yep, the pain receptors keep on functioning perfectly.  It’s hard.   On my body.  On my mind.  On my mood.  On my entire being.  But, yeah, that’s the rest of it.  Basically, the doc figures the little bastards that are causing the Lyme have found their way to my brain and while they haven’t damaged it yet, they may.  The spinal tap and MRI won’t show them since they are little bastards bacteria actually inside my brain, so without the damage there is no way of for sure knowing they are there.  But by symptom tracking (the best friend to any Lyme sufferer anywhere!) we are pretty sure they are in there.  So, agressive medicine time.

I’m getting an IV line put in.  I have basically two options here, both not appealing, both having a time frame of 1 to 3 months, or longer, depending on how I respond.

Option 1: a Picc line.

They put a line in my arm into my vein (or artery, whatever) and I self administer the antibiotics twice a day.

Option 2: a portcap.

They put a quarter sized cap thats about a half inch thick in my chest, either just below the clavicle, or possibly under my breast (for appearance sake only).  Then they stab the cap with a needle (the needle gets changed weekly) and leave it there for me to self-administer the antibiotics.

Both lines are run through my body to about the same area, going towards my heart.  The Picc line is cheaper, and won’t leave as big a scar, but it’s in my arm, which I tend to use more than my chest.  Also, I have these two 45lb people I routinely carry around with my arm, so yeah, there’s that.  The port is a more extensive “surgery” so I get to be put out (bonus) but of course that means more money for the anesthesiologist and all.  And besides, not a fan of those guys anyway.  There is a slightly greater chance of sepsis with the Picc line.  Sepsis is when an infection gets in your blood and you go on a nice date with Death, hopefully leading to nothing more than a good-night kiss, but with a good posibility of a love at first sight moment lasting for all eternity.  Yeah, that serious.  But the place the IV hooks to is much more secure, and smaller.

Besides the implant, I also will have a nurse.  Yep.  My very own home-visiting nurse.  She (or he) will come to the house to show me how to administer my antibiotics when I first get it.  Then she will visit once a week to change my dressing, check my lines and site, and if I get a port, change my needle.  This goes on,well, until it’s done.  Like I said, estimating 1 to 3 months for now, but who knows.  Yeah, complete and utter suckiness!

Mr. W isn’t doing well with all this.  He hasn’t for any of this really, but now it’s worse.  We are fighting, well, technically we aren’t even talking at the moment, but that’s from not wanting to fight.  I’m hurting and cranky and bitchy and hiding it all the best I can (apparently not the bitchy part) because I don’t feel like I can talk to him about it all.  It’s not just that he stresses, but I feel like somehow he’s making it about him.  And it’s not about him, dammit!  My mom does the same thing so I just learned not to tell her anything.  I don’t want it to be like that with him.  I’m so frustrated with it all.  I need a vent.  I need someone to spew to who will just listen and comfort me and not try to fix everything and not get visibly stressed everytime I bring it up.  I need to be held and babied a little.  I need someone to tell me everything is going to be alright, even if neither of us believe it.  I need to believe it, even if it’s just for that moment in time.  I’m scared.  I’m frustrated.  I’m depressed.  I’m in pain.  I’m not doing well at all and I have to fake the funk for work, for my kids, for my parents, well my mom at least, for the ex-men.  I’m tired.  Tired of the pain.  Tired of being sick.  Tired of being limited.  Tired of faking it.  Just tired of everything.  Yeah, not doing well at all.

So, that’s where I’m at today.  Tomorrow will be a new day.  Maybe better, maybe worse.  Maybe the same.  At least it’s one day closer to something else…although I don’t know what that something else is yet.  Just getting through today…