If you know anything about me you know that I am an absolute sucker for shoes. I love shoes and in my crazy thinking they love me too, otherwise they would not call out to me like they do. It's like when I see a pair I have to have they have these voices that connect to my brain that tell me how much I need them and how wonderfully cute they would look on me. The thing about my shoes is that I absolutely adore high heels. I am short and heels make me feel tall and cute. Don't get me wrong, I do own some shoes without a heel but those are usually flip flops or tennis shoes.
Tonight I was in a shoe store just standing in awe at the shoe beauty all around me. I couldn't seem to make up my mind. Every shoe I checked out was beautiful in their own way, though they couldn't all be the right one for me. I had an epiphany as I was standing there and it had to do with shoes and people.
Shoes are like people in our lives. At some point you walk on them. You like some more than others. Some make you feel fabulous. Others make you feel frumpy and sad. Some cause you pain. Some you have had forever. Some will never fit you quite right. Some make you fall. Some keep you grounded. Some make you feel sexy. Some you know you have to get rid of. Some...well you get my point.
I have a lot of shoes, and I also have a lot of people in my life. Like my shoes, the people in my life are all different and beautiful in their own way. Even the shoes that may sit at the top shelf that are only worn once in a while are beautiful, but there is something about those shoes that no matter how pretty they may seem to everyone else who sees you wearing them, you hide the secret that they secretly kill you and cause you a certain kind of pain that you just cannot endure for long. Of course you are the one to blame for buying those shoes even after trying them on and knowing in the back of your mind that it may not even be worth it.
In the end you know that those shoes are just taking up space that you could be using for something else, so what happens? As sad as it may seem at first, you pack them up and let them go. You don't know what is in their future but you know that they will survive somewhere else, on another foot. After the initial sadness wears off, you feel pissed off. You knew those shoes would not last forever and all those shoes did was hurt you even though they thought they were the best shoes you owned.
Then you start to realize that you have shoes in your closet that you have not seen in a while. When you finally reunite you remember how nuch fun you had with those shoes and it makes it that much more easier to forget those shoes you gave away, the ones that hurt your feet. You stick with the shoes you know will be good for you and you may even shop for some more along the way making sure to remember that you are happy now without those shoes from long ago.
Always remember that no shoe no matter how great or pretty they are should define you. Some shoes are perfect for you and some are just right. And then there are the shoes you know can never be your shoe because you and the shoe are just too different...but don't be sad...the world is your shoe store and it awaits you every day.
Am I talking about shoes or people in my life? I guess that is something only my sensible shoes know all about!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Moms Always Remember...
I woke up this morning thinking of my mother and how thirty eight years ago she was in a hospital bed ready for me to come out from inside of her. If everyone in the world forgot about your birthday, we can always be assured that if our mother's are still with us, they will call us or remember that it's our birthday. My mom lives in Texas, and I miss her every day. I knew that she woke up thinking of me and waiting to call me when she knew I wouldn't be in a mad rush to go somewhere that I had to be. I have seen my mom in pictures of when she was pregnant with me. She always looked so happy and so pretty. She put together a baby book of me that I have somewhere in my garage. Mementos of me as her baby. I always tell you how I was a daddy's girl, but I know that my mom loved me just as much. As I sit here on my thirty eighth birthday with tears rolling down my face I know that my mom made a lot of sacrifices for us when we were growing up. There were times I told her she wasn't my mother and it didn't help when my brother used to make jokes that my parents found me on the doorstep! I sometimes told her that I hated her when all that was about was me not getting my way.
She used to tell me that she would have sweet revenge when I had kids one day and they gave me the same headaches that I gave her. I used to counter that by telling her that I was going to have kids that love me because I was going to be a nice mother. She used to laugh as if she knew that would never happen. My question is...how did she know? It turns out that mothers are usually always right, and she was. Today was my birthday and here I am with kids of my own and here I sit at the end of the night with that headache that my mama promised me. I know my kids love me but they are teenagers and we all know that teenagers are not exactly the best communicators. It wasn't until halfway through the day that my daughter told me happy birthday and my son acted like it was just another day until dinner time came and he asked where we were going to elebrate my birthday.
I will always remember their birthdays for as long as I am blessed to be their mother. I know exactly how my mom feels when she tells me happy birthday every year. I know that one year the only gift my kids will need from me on their birthdays is just to hear my voice telling them that...but I think that is still years away.
I talked to my mom this morning and she told me the things she remembered from the day I was born. Her water broke on a car lot which is ironic because for years my dad was a car salesman so that was just my destiny as his daughter. I miss my mom so much and we have a sort of unspoken love where we may not talk every day but we each know how much we mean to one another.
I woke up today laying next to my husband, and I will go to bed tonight laying next to my daughter. Yes, it has been a roller coaster kind of day. Sometimes, being at work makes you happier than being at home. Then something happens that takes your breath away and makes you feel like maybe you are not doing such a bad job after all. My daughter baked me birthday cupcakes and she was so proud of herself. Home Ec class has given her cooking confidence and the independence to show her love without having to say anything. It was at that very moment when she uncovered her cupcake creations that I knew she loved me, the same way I love my mom. Thankyou for my cupcakes AMK...I love you.
And thank you mom for giving me life, for caring for me while I was in your stomach. For loving me when it seemed I didn't love you. for throwing me birthday parties, for all the birthday presents and for always remembering the day you first met me...I love you and I miss you so much.
She used to tell me that she would have sweet revenge when I had kids one day and they gave me the same headaches that I gave her. I used to counter that by telling her that I was going to have kids that love me because I was going to be a nice mother. She used to laugh as if she knew that would never happen. My question is...how did she know? It turns out that mothers are usually always right, and she was. Today was my birthday and here I am with kids of my own and here I sit at the end of the night with that headache that my mama promised me. I know my kids love me but they are teenagers and we all know that teenagers are not exactly the best communicators. It wasn't until halfway through the day that my daughter told me happy birthday and my son acted like it was just another day until dinner time came and he asked where we were going to elebrate my birthday.
I will always remember their birthdays for as long as I am blessed to be their mother. I know exactly how my mom feels when she tells me happy birthday every year. I know that one year the only gift my kids will need from me on their birthdays is just to hear my voice telling them that...but I think that is still years away.
I talked to my mom this morning and she told me the things she remembered from the day I was born. Her water broke on a car lot which is ironic because for years my dad was a car salesman so that was just my destiny as his daughter. I miss my mom so much and we have a sort of unspoken love where we may not talk every day but we each know how much we mean to one another.
I woke up today laying next to my husband, and I will go to bed tonight laying next to my daughter. Yes, it has been a roller coaster kind of day. Sometimes, being at work makes you happier than being at home. Then something happens that takes your breath away and makes you feel like maybe you are not doing such a bad job after all. My daughter baked me birthday cupcakes and she was so proud of herself. Home Ec class has given her cooking confidence and the independence to show her love without having to say anything. It was at that very moment when she uncovered her cupcake creations that I knew she loved me, the same way I love my mom. Thankyou for my cupcakes AMK...I love you.
And thank you mom for giving me life, for caring for me while I was in your stomach. For loving me when it seemed I didn't love you. for throwing me birthday parties, for all the birthday presents and for always remembering the day you first met me...I love you and I miss you so much.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Oh 38, Will You Be Great?
So Saturday came and it was going to be a relaxing day because quite honestly, my feet hurt from all the walking around I had done since my birthday celebrating began on Thursday. It started off with a soccer victory for my son's team winning their game 5-1 with my boy scoring a goal. Something was different about him that day. He played faster and harder like he was doing it in honor of my upcoming birthday, it was great. My next goal for the day was to get to Home Depot and figure out what color paint to buy. We have been in our house since 2008 and it seems the easiest way to change something about my house is to paint something.
For me I get something in my head and it has to get done, even though a project is still waiting to be completed that I started months ago. Last summer I began painting my bluish gray house to a lighter off white color called Nomadic Plains with Apple Red paint for the fireplace and trim. Basically I got the whole front of the house done and some of the back even. Still half the painting is unfinished but outside painting takes time and I even can use the excuse that Wal-Mart stopped mixing paint colors so now I have to go get my little paint sample card matched at Home Depot, yeah yeah, I will get around to it one day. Then there is my daughter's room. There are three purple walls…well technically 2 1/2 that are actually purple and a half of a wall that still needs purple paint. The other wall is black and my big plan was to give it that zebra stripe effect. Ok, so my excuse is that if she doesn't keep her room clean why should I finish it. Ok, so maybe that's just what I tell her, I will finish that one day too!
So my latest thing was to give my plain off white den walls a kick of color and give ourselves an accent wall. I envisioned red since it is my favorite color, but I also got brown because I knew that the other half wouldn’t welcome such a bright color. As expected, he chose the brown but when I actually got to Home Depot I chose a reddish brown called Wild Manzanita and it didn’t matter anyways because he wouldn’t notice and besides you know the saying…Happy Wife-Happy Life. Then I got to thinking about my back yard and how I have neglected it. Though I have three monster dogs that don’t even reach my knees, I would still like it to be my outside oasis. Somewhere I can go after work, sit by my fire pit and read a good book while sipping a tall glass of almond champagne. Currently it looks like the backyard I would go to sit on a crate while drinking a generic beer! The one thing I hate about my house is that we have a chain link fence in the back and live on a corner. Everyone can see into our backyard which totally diminishes any thoughts of sunbathing-that was a joke!
So while looking for plants that would climb up the fence I thought I would look for bricks to make this whole new garden section I have planned out in my head-see, there goes another project. So my daughter and I ventured on over to the bricks. Aside from the boring plain flat and cheap bricks there is a brick world I didn’t think existed. Different textures, colors, shapes and sizes, wow-I was in brick heaven. I found a curvy brick that I thought would be good to take home and see how it fit in with my plans. I picked it up and turned to put it in my basket when KABLAM …followed by me screaming obscenities that rhyme with Mitt and Truck. A brick fell on the top of my foot/toes and actually broke in half when it hit my foot. I was in so much pain that all I could do was to jump around for about thirty seconds as my daughter panicked and called my son on his phone to come back to the bricks because mom broke her foot. I pulled myself together and gripped tightly to the basket, it helped ease the pain! The first person who was wearing their little orange apron that told me hello I barked at. I told them it was really unsafe to have curved bricks stacked and they looked at me as if I was crazy and said sorry. Before the end of my visit a manager took a report in case there was a medical claim. Needless to say after the trip the rest of the day was pretty much shot as my foot was mad it was attached for someone who had to be a do it yourselfer.
For me I get something in my head and it has to get done, even though a project is still waiting to be completed that I started months ago. Last summer I began painting my bluish gray house to a lighter off white color called Nomadic Plains with Apple Red paint for the fireplace and trim. Basically I got the whole front of the house done and some of the back even. Still half the painting is unfinished but outside painting takes time and I even can use the excuse that Wal-Mart stopped mixing paint colors so now I have to go get my little paint sample card matched at Home Depot, yeah yeah, I will get around to it one day. Then there is my daughter's room. There are three purple walls…well technically 2 1/2 that are actually purple and a half of a wall that still needs purple paint. The other wall is black and my big plan was to give it that zebra stripe effect. Ok, so my excuse is that if she doesn't keep her room clean why should I finish it. Ok, so maybe that's just what I tell her, I will finish that one day too!
So my latest thing was to give my plain off white den walls a kick of color and give ourselves an accent wall. I envisioned red since it is my favorite color, but I also got brown because I knew that the other half wouldn’t welcome such a bright color. As expected, he chose the brown but when I actually got to Home Depot I chose a reddish brown called Wild Manzanita and it didn’t matter anyways because he wouldn’t notice and besides you know the saying…Happy Wife-Happy Life. Then I got to thinking about my back yard and how I have neglected it. Though I have three monster dogs that don’t even reach my knees, I would still like it to be my outside oasis. Somewhere I can go after work, sit by my fire pit and read a good book while sipping a tall glass of almond champagne. Currently it looks like the backyard I would go to sit on a crate while drinking a generic beer! The one thing I hate about my house is that we have a chain link fence in the back and live on a corner. Everyone can see into our backyard which totally diminishes any thoughts of sunbathing-that was a joke!
So while looking for plants that would climb up the fence I thought I would look for bricks to make this whole new garden section I have planned out in my head-see, there goes another project. So my daughter and I ventured on over to the bricks. Aside from the boring plain flat and cheap bricks there is a brick world I didn’t think existed. Different textures, colors, shapes and sizes, wow-I was in brick heaven. I found a curvy brick that I thought would be good to take home and see how it fit in with my plans. I picked it up and turned to put it in my basket when KABLAM …followed by me screaming obscenities that rhyme with Mitt and Truck. A brick fell on the top of my foot/toes and actually broke in half when it hit my foot. I was in so much pain that all I could do was to jump around for about thirty seconds as my daughter panicked and called my son on his phone to come back to the bricks because mom broke her foot. I pulled myself together and gripped tightly to the basket, it helped ease the pain! The first person who was wearing their little orange apron that told me hello I barked at. I told them it was really unsafe to have curved bricks stacked and they looked at me as if I was crazy and said sorry. Before the end of my visit a manager took a report in case there was a medical claim. Needless to say after the trip the rest of the day was pretty much shot as my foot was mad it was attached for someone who had to be a do it yourselfer.
I woke up the next day sick to my stomach with throbbing foot pain-ugh. I could not be sick this day, I was going to the winery with my sister and some friends. I laid on my stomach for as long as I could and I even had to make myself vomit just to even begin the day. I had no idea what to wear and it was already sweltering outside. I threw on a cute black cotton dress and some sandals, swiped red lipstick across my lips and added some cute jewelry. Even though I was sick , I still managed to make myself look adorable as always (I’m so pretty) haha, inside joke.
So four girls began our trip to Temecula to go to our local wine country. My sister loves Wilson Creek Winery. We went there for her birthday and I absolutely loved it. It was like a peaceful little piece of somewhere I could envision myself in a different time as a different me. I told her I wanted to go there for my birthday as well, so she granted my wish. We got there and sampled all the different varieties of wine but for me on this particular day the champagne's fizzy little bubbles really did help my stomach feel better. We sat down for lunch and I ordered what was so wonderful the last time...Chicken Caprese Panini. During lunch the four of us girls talked and laughed and even cried about us, love and life. I felt like I was there with not just my sister but two other sisters. One of the girls kept saying she felt like we were in a movie because of the setting and our conversation. I totally understood what she meant. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day, like a perfect movie. As we drove home and got closer to home reality started to drift slowly upon us. Isn't it weird how away from home when we are in another place and time we are happy and the nostalgia of being somewhere else makes it seem like we are in a perfect place, but as soon as we get within 15 miles of our normal everyday life we start to almost dread going back. Back to the everyday routine of wherever our lives have put us.
As I sit here on the eve of my 38th birthday in the middle of my everyday routine, I am in a place I feel blessed to have. I have a family, we all have our health, we have a home, food and just what we need to be where we are with people in our lives to share it with. But this isn't a movie, it's reality. There are days I wish this was a movie and I was part of a different cast and then I think that's just me being crazy. Oh 38...where will you take me? Will my life forever me a drama with an essence of comical or will I one day live in the perfect chick flick romance...only time will tell...
By the way for anyone who cares...aside from my toes being an ugly shade of purple, the experts tell me that unfortunately Larry Parker can't get me anything because like my spirit my toes are strong and definately not broken or even fractured...ahh but to dream...
Farewell forever 37!
Monday, September 27, 2010
Last Days Of 37
I have just one more day left of being 37 years old. I remember when I was youg and my parents were in their thirties. I thought that was so old, but now it doesn't seem so bad. I still feel young and I think I can credit my teenagers for keeping me that way. I know all the cool songs and I am keen to all the new fashions, which by the way is a blast from my past. The old Madonna look is back. I see my daughter ripping her shirts and having one side hang off the shoulder along with lacy bows and tighter pants.
Anyways, here I am on the last Monday I will ever be thirty seven. Last Thursday began a countdown to birthday activities that have been fun, fabulous and heartfelt with a pinch of pain...more on that later.
Thursday, September 23-My BFF Frankie and her wonderful neice hooked me up with a free visit to the happiest place on earth...Disneyland! We both took the day off, sent the kids to school and ventured to Anaheim. Frankie is a regular there and she knew exactly when to get there, where to park and everything we needed. We got there early and walked into this wonderful gift shop that had pretty much everything a person could ever want for a souvenir from Walt Disney and his friends. She kept asking me what I wanted to do and I was just so happy to be there I told her whatever she wanted. By the end of the day we were cruising around without a care in the world. We ventured to get on Pirates of the Caribbean only to be told that it was temporarily closed which happened to us more than once that day. We went on Haunted Mansion and I was so amused at how they changed it to match Nightmare before Christmas, it was all decked out in Jack Skellington and friends. Oh I did forget to mention one very important thing. Frankie made me go to Guest Services to get a Happy Birthday pin. Our Disney rep put my name on it and hooked up the letters of my name with disney ears, so cute. It was like I was Disney royalty. Everywhere I went people said Happy Birthday! We went on the Winnie the Pooh ride and before we stepped on the ride they gave me a birthday card signed by Winnie the Pooh-I swore Frankie had something to do with it, but it was actually from Winnie...OMG!
We even Met Winnie the Pooh and he let me rub his nose...no people stop thinking dirty thoughts, it really was his nose. We met Tigger too! We crossed over to California Adventure and Frankie bought me lunch and then we soared over California. She introduced me to new things like the drawing academy where you can go to a session to draw Disney characters, it was so cool. We drew Jack Skellington and Daisy Duck. We got to see what Disney character we were most like. I was the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland. Then we acted and sang and had such a blast!!! Tower of Terror freaked us both out and I clung to Frankie as we fell to what I thought would be our death...whew! On Thunder Mountain or Big Thunder or whatever that ride is called we laughed our butts off. We sat in back of some guy named Kyle and we screamed whenever we could and he yelled at the people waiting for the ride to "Don't get on this ride". Splash Mountain, Matter Horn...we got on all we wanted. We went to see Captain EO and it made me miss Michael Jackson all over again. While Michael Jackson was singing and the music was pumping all the seats were bouncing up and down and we laughed. We had a pumpkin muffin and ate a chocolate Mickey head. Then...we were content. We left the park, went to the gift shop and topped off our trip with El Pollo Loco. Thanks Frankie and Melissa for a wonderful day!!!
Friday, September 24th-
My husband as I have told you writes for a local weekly newspaper. One of the perks is going to endless events free of charge. One of my favorite this time of the year is at Universal Studios. On the opening night of their annual Halloween Haunt they have an award show in the Globe Theatre that features red carpet, scary movie royalty and fun appetizers...oh, did I mention free alcohol??? Yeah you heard me right. Whatever tatsy drink you can ever want they have...mmmm. This is great because after the awards we get access to scary mazes and rides and there are people dressed as monsters everywhere. The alcohol makes the monsters fun and strikingly handsome and beautiful. When a drunk me tells the monsters this, they get all pissed at me because I'm not scared! We went through mazes, got on the scary tram and all together had a nice time...but then we were done. We ended up on Citiwalk, strolled by one of our favorite clubs The Rumba Room. Let me just say cha cha ho's everywhere. It was a guys fantasy come true! We went to Starbucks and watched people walk down City Walk. It was a nice evening and he and I had a good time together.
Then came Saturday...but that's my next blog...
Anyways, here I am on the last Monday I will ever be thirty seven. Last Thursday began a countdown to birthday activities that have been fun, fabulous and heartfelt with a pinch of pain...more on that later.
Thursday, September 23-My BFF Frankie and her wonderful neice hooked me up with a free visit to the happiest place on earth...Disneyland! We both took the day off, sent the kids to school and ventured to Anaheim. Frankie is a regular there and she knew exactly when to get there, where to park and everything we needed. We got there early and walked into this wonderful gift shop that had pretty much everything a person could ever want for a souvenir from Walt Disney and his friends. She kept asking me what I wanted to do and I was just so happy to be there I told her whatever she wanted. By the end of the day we were cruising around without a care in the world. We ventured to get on Pirates of the Caribbean only to be told that it was temporarily closed which happened to us more than once that day. We went on Haunted Mansion and I was so amused at how they changed it to match Nightmare before Christmas, it was all decked out in Jack Skellington and friends. Oh I did forget to mention one very important thing. Frankie made me go to Guest Services to get a Happy Birthday pin. Our Disney rep put my name on it and hooked up the letters of my name with disney ears, so cute. It was like I was Disney royalty. Everywhere I went people said Happy Birthday! We went on the Winnie the Pooh ride and before we stepped on the ride they gave me a birthday card signed by Winnie the Pooh-I swore Frankie had something to do with it, but it was actually from Winnie...OMG!
We even Met Winnie the Pooh and he let me rub his nose...no people stop thinking dirty thoughts, it really was his nose. We met Tigger too! We crossed over to California Adventure and Frankie bought me lunch and then we soared over California. She introduced me to new things like the drawing academy where you can go to a session to draw Disney characters, it was so cool. We drew Jack Skellington and Daisy Duck. We got to see what Disney character we were most like. I was the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland. Then we acted and sang and had such a blast!!! Tower of Terror freaked us both out and I clung to Frankie as we fell to what I thought would be our death...whew! On Thunder Mountain or Big Thunder or whatever that ride is called we laughed our butts off. We sat in back of some guy named Kyle and we screamed whenever we could and he yelled at the people waiting for the ride to "Don't get on this ride". Splash Mountain, Matter Horn...we got on all we wanted. We went to see Captain EO and it made me miss Michael Jackson all over again. While Michael Jackson was singing and the music was pumping all the seats were bouncing up and down and we laughed. We had a pumpkin muffin and ate a chocolate Mickey head. Then...we were content. We left the park, went to the gift shop and topped off our trip with El Pollo Loco. Thanks Frankie and Melissa for a wonderful day!!!
Friday, September 24th-
My husband as I have told you writes for a local weekly newspaper. One of the perks is going to endless events free of charge. One of my favorite this time of the year is at Universal Studios. On the opening night of their annual Halloween Haunt they have an award show in the Globe Theatre that features red carpet, scary movie royalty and fun appetizers...oh, did I mention free alcohol??? Yeah you heard me right. Whatever tatsy drink you can ever want they have...mmmm. This is great because after the awards we get access to scary mazes and rides and there are people dressed as monsters everywhere. The alcohol makes the monsters fun and strikingly handsome and beautiful. When a drunk me tells the monsters this, they get all pissed at me because I'm not scared! We went through mazes, got on the scary tram and all together had a nice time...but then we were done. We ended up on Citiwalk, strolled by one of our favorite clubs The Rumba Room. Let me just say cha cha ho's everywhere. It was a guys fantasy come true! We went to Starbucks and watched people walk down City Walk. It was a nice evening and he and I had a good time together.
Then came Saturday...but that's my next blog...
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
26.2 Miles Of Hell
Today I woke up with my knee in pain, it was also kind of cold outside. Here is something I can count on...when it's cold , my knee starts to hurt. It usually goes away with a dose of advil, a hot shower and some icy hot. My husband swears by icy hot, kind of like the dad swore by Windex in the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. If you have icy hot and vicks in your house, you are good to go!
One day a while back my husband tells me he is going to run in the LA Marathon. I signed him up and waited for him to train. He is pretty fit to begin with and stays in shape walking a lot and refereeing. Still I thought that at least he would run a few miles each night or something , but no. That first year was a learning experience for us all. We ventured to the LA Convention Center after checking into our hotel in downtown LA. There were hundreds of people picking up their registration packet and goodie bags. The next day before 8:00 am a gun was shot in the air with the song I Love LA playing in the background and thousands of runners began their goal of running 26.2 miles and crossing the finish line. It was exciting on the sidelines as well. Me and the kids were cheering people on and it was a lot of good fun. We waited near the end and about five hours later my husband finished.
We met up with him after he got his medal and it was all he talked about on the way home. He told us all about the camaraderie amongst the runners and how all the supporters along the marathon route were so generous. He said it was amazing how people came together for this one day to support so many people. Then for about two years after that he ran every year and finished.
Something crazy inside of me decided that I wanted to have the glory and pride of finishing a marathon. I wanted to witness people coming together when usually we are all so divided. So....I signed up. I was so excited. I did everything I thought would be sufficient for running a marathon which is approximately 26.2 miles. Then before I knew it it was time, the 2008 LA Marathon was here. I was sad that my kids were not going to be there to share it with me but I knew that they would be proud of me when I got home.
My Husband and I checked into our normal hotel and we went shopping the day before the big day. We had a lot of fun but I could not stop thinking about the next day. For some reason I thought I was going to die, and I began to get scared. Bright and early the next morning I woke up, I think it was way before five. I could not sleep and I stood there in our hotel room looking out the window. My husband told me I needed all the sleep I could get, but I couldn't sleep, I was about to kill myself on some LA street.
After we loaded up the car we made our way to the subway and took our ride to Universal Studios with all the others. There was a lot of adrenaline on that train and I was energized. As I looked around and saw all the different kinds of people I knew I could do this, at least that's what I told myself. There were short not twig skinny people with curves like me, yes, I could do this! My husband knew exactly where to go and told me what to expect in the beginning when everyone is just pushing their way forward. I was excited to hear Mayor Villaraigosa shoot the starting gun and then we were told that he wasn't going to be there, I was sad, but still ready as ever. I LOVE LA blasted on the radio and then the moment I waited for...the gunshot!
It was all downhill and seemed easy enough at first. As he had promised once the crazy people moved forward and left us behind things were going ok. I remember all these men just running to some bushes on the side of the road and urinating anywhere they could find a spot. They had a finishing goal and no porta potty line was going to stop them. After running for what seemed like an eternity with no mile one sign in sight I wondered what in the hell I had gotten myself into. No! I had to push those thoughts out of my mind, I could do this.
One thing was for sure, the energy of the crowds and runners made me feel like I was the energizer bunny and I could last forever...not to mention there were free cups of gatorade! There was music and happy people all around. People were walking and people were running. I was switching off and my husband was nice enough to wait for me. I ran with landmarks ahead of me in mind. I would tell myself..."Ok, run to that signal light and then you can walk for a while". This worked for quite some time. Then somewhere along the way around mile 12 my knee turned against me and decided that my occupation could not be a runner! We went into El Pollo Loco got some ice and took a little break. That is one thing that people don't realize. People take breaks, go into restaurants, use restrooms as long as they stay on the marathon route.
I tried to run but after aboiut mile 14 I knew I was going to have to walk the rest of the way. I told my husband to go ahead of me, get his time in and come back for me. He stayed with me and I knew he was worried about my knee and about me. When I came to about mile 16 by USC I got a text message from my BFF Frankie that said "You are my hero". I think if it had not been for that inspiration that I needed so much from someone at home I might have given up. I was at mile 16, there was no way I was coming this far to give up now, so I kept going. I knew it was getting late because people started to pack up and there was not any cute little gatorade filled cups along the route.
I knew once we went over the LA River bridge that we were almost there. I felt so happy and I pushed myself harder. Every few minutes I would take out the jar of Icy Hot and rub it on my knee...mile 22, mile 23, mile 24. Around mile 25 I was in extreme pain and I thought my legs were going to give out because they felt like noodles. When I saw the finish line I took out my phone and took a picture. When I crossed the finish line the time it had taken me to get there was a few minutes over eight hours. Eight hours, yes, that is a lot of time, but I didn't care. I had my medal around my neck and I did it. I was so proud of myself. I wished my mom was there to see me but I knew she was rooting for me from Texas. I wished my dad was there too, but you all know he was there because I told you that he lives in my heart now, remember?
My husband left me to go get the car and he drove us home to go pick up our kids and share our accomplishment with them. By the time we got home that night I couldn't walk to the front door from my driveway. My husband carried me in and layed me on the couch which is where I stayed for two days. I even had to call my boss and request a few extra days off, there was no way I could even drive.
A few days later I was back to my old self again, with a cane of course. The doctor said I had just injured my meniscus and they sent me away with a prescription and a brace. I wore my medal around my neck for about a week and though I don't have a bucket list of things I want to do before I die, I know that if I did I can say that I ran and completed the long, grueling but very rewarding 26.2 mile race.
Oh by the way, don't worry about my knee, I wear my pain proudly and it reminds me that there is nothing I cannot achieve.
One day a while back my husband tells me he is going to run in the LA Marathon. I signed him up and waited for him to train. He is pretty fit to begin with and stays in shape walking a lot and refereeing. Still I thought that at least he would run a few miles each night or something , but no. That first year was a learning experience for us all. We ventured to the LA Convention Center after checking into our hotel in downtown LA. There were hundreds of people picking up their registration packet and goodie bags. The next day before 8:00 am a gun was shot in the air with the song I Love LA playing in the background and thousands of runners began their goal of running 26.2 miles and crossing the finish line. It was exciting on the sidelines as well. Me and the kids were cheering people on and it was a lot of good fun. We waited near the end and about five hours later my husband finished.
We met up with him after he got his medal and it was all he talked about on the way home. He told us all about the camaraderie amongst the runners and how all the supporters along the marathon route were so generous. He said it was amazing how people came together for this one day to support so many people. Then for about two years after that he ran every year and finished.
Something crazy inside of me decided that I wanted to have the glory and pride of finishing a marathon. I wanted to witness people coming together when usually we are all so divided. So....I signed up. I was so excited. I did everything I thought would be sufficient for running a marathon which is approximately 26.2 miles. Then before I knew it it was time, the 2008 LA Marathon was here. I was sad that my kids were not going to be there to share it with me but I knew that they would be proud of me when I got home.
My Husband and I checked into our normal hotel and we went shopping the day before the big day. We had a lot of fun but I could not stop thinking about the next day. For some reason I thought I was going to die, and I began to get scared. Bright and early the next morning I woke up, I think it was way before five. I could not sleep and I stood there in our hotel room looking out the window. My husband told me I needed all the sleep I could get, but I couldn't sleep, I was about to kill myself on some LA street.
After we loaded up the car we made our way to the subway and took our ride to Universal Studios with all the others. There was a lot of adrenaline on that train and I was energized. As I looked around and saw all the different kinds of people I knew I could do this, at least that's what I told myself. There were short not twig skinny people with curves like me, yes, I could do this! My husband knew exactly where to go and told me what to expect in the beginning when everyone is just pushing their way forward. I was excited to hear Mayor Villaraigosa shoot the starting gun and then we were told that he wasn't going to be there, I was sad, but still ready as ever. I LOVE LA blasted on the radio and then the moment I waited for...the gunshot!
It was all downhill and seemed easy enough at first. As he had promised once the crazy people moved forward and left us behind things were going ok. I remember all these men just running to some bushes on the side of the road and urinating anywhere they could find a spot. They had a finishing goal and no porta potty line was going to stop them. After running for what seemed like an eternity with no mile one sign in sight I wondered what in the hell I had gotten myself into. No! I had to push those thoughts out of my mind, I could do this.
One thing was for sure, the energy of the crowds and runners made me feel like I was the energizer bunny and I could last forever...not to mention there were free cups of gatorade! There was music and happy people all around. People were walking and people were running. I was switching off and my husband was nice enough to wait for me. I ran with landmarks ahead of me in mind. I would tell myself..."Ok, run to that signal light and then you can walk for a while". This worked for quite some time. Then somewhere along the way around mile 12 my knee turned against me and decided that my occupation could not be a runner! We went into El Pollo Loco got some ice and took a little break. That is one thing that people don't realize. People take breaks, go into restaurants, use restrooms as long as they stay on the marathon route.
I tried to run but after aboiut mile 14 I knew I was going to have to walk the rest of the way. I told my husband to go ahead of me, get his time in and come back for me. He stayed with me and I knew he was worried about my knee and about me. When I came to about mile 16 by USC I got a text message from my BFF Frankie that said "You are my hero". I think if it had not been for that inspiration that I needed so much from someone at home I might have given up. I was at mile 16, there was no way I was coming this far to give up now, so I kept going. I knew it was getting late because people started to pack up and there was not any cute little gatorade filled cups along the route.
I knew once we went over the LA River bridge that we were almost there. I felt so happy and I pushed myself harder. Every few minutes I would take out the jar of Icy Hot and rub it on my knee...mile 22, mile 23, mile 24. Around mile 25 I was in extreme pain and I thought my legs were going to give out because they felt like noodles. When I saw the finish line I took out my phone and took a picture. When I crossed the finish line the time it had taken me to get there was a few minutes over eight hours. Eight hours, yes, that is a lot of time, but I didn't care. I had my medal around my neck and I did it. I was so proud of myself. I wished my mom was there to see me but I knew she was rooting for me from Texas. I wished my dad was there too, but you all know he was there because I told you that he lives in my heart now, remember?
My husband left me to go get the car and he drove us home to go pick up our kids and share our accomplishment with them. By the time we got home that night I couldn't walk to the front door from my driveway. My husband carried me in and layed me on the couch which is where I stayed for two days. I even had to call my boss and request a few extra days off, there was no way I could even drive.
A few days later I was back to my old self again, with a cane of course. The doctor said I had just injured my meniscus and they sent me away with a prescription and a brace. I wore my medal around my neck for about a week and though I don't have a bucket list of things I want to do before I die, I know that if I did I can say that I ran and completed the long, grueling but very rewarding 26.2 mile race.
Oh by the way, don't worry about my knee, I wear my pain proudly and it reminds me that there is nothing I cannot achieve.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Looking Through My Old Pictures...
My mom used to listen to a song called "Old Pictures" by The Judds. One of the lines went like this...
"Looking through my old pictures, faded photographs
Some of them bring me close to tears, others make me laugh
Old memories, seem to come alive
And open up the past again and let me dream inside."
I have so many pictures. I am not computer literate enough to be one of those people who download and backup files. I will admit that some of my photos are on my computer, but the majority of them are in plastic boxes, cardboard boxes, ziplock bags, suitcases. I once tried to get the kids pictures into a scrapbook for each of them, and I must admit, they came out very cute. Then life happened, we took more pictures and we have pictures galore.
A friend of mine recently sent me an old picture from high school. It brought a smile to my face because aside from the fact my best friend was Aqua Net Hairspray, I thought I dressed cute, but really, I was kinda homely! I thought iridescent shoes were cute back in the day, but a picture tells me differently. I thought a sweatshirt and leggings would totally land me a guy and now I almost gag at how I looked back then. The thing about it though is this, I would not change anything. No matter how my hair was or what I was wearing I was making memories.
Sometimes we forget about the memories we have made in our lives, especailly as we get older. It's funny how you can forget about something entirely and then you find a picture and you are suddenly transported back in time remembering little details of that picture.
I look at old pictures of my mom and dad way before I was born. There is my mom so glamorous and dressed so pretty sitting on my dad's lap with his arms around her. They looked like they were so in love. Then there are pictures of my siblings and I growing up and my sister holding me in her arms when I was so little. She said to me I have always been like her baby. A picture of my mom on her wedding day to Pappy (my stepfather) when they married in Las Vegas, older but with happiness on her face. There's a picture of my husband and I when we celebrated our first new years eve. There was a look of newness on our faces, not knowing what the future would hold.
One of my most favorite pictures is that of my son looking down at my daughter and she is looking up at him. It is a black and white photo and it is timeless. It captures their youth before time and age separated them as friends. Sure I still sometimes catch them sharing a brother sister moment laughing with each other, but those times are rare and I miss that. That picture is in my house and on my desk to remind me of happiness.
Old pictures are like therapy. They can make you cry, they can make you smile, they can make you feel things you forgot about and even things you don't want to remember. I have pictures hanging in my closet, pictures hanging in my house, in my wallet, on my desk. I will never grow tired of my pictures. They are where I came from, where I have been and where I am going.
"Looking through my old pictures, faded photographs
Some of them bring me close to tears, others make me laugh
Old memories, seem to come alive
And open up the past again and let me dream inside."
I have so many pictures. I am not computer literate enough to be one of those people who download and backup files. I will admit that some of my photos are on my computer, but the majority of them are in plastic boxes, cardboard boxes, ziplock bags, suitcases. I once tried to get the kids pictures into a scrapbook for each of them, and I must admit, they came out very cute. Then life happened, we took more pictures and we have pictures galore.
A friend of mine recently sent me an old picture from high school. It brought a smile to my face because aside from the fact my best friend was Aqua Net Hairspray, I thought I dressed cute, but really, I was kinda homely! I thought iridescent shoes were cute back in the day, but a picture tells me differently. I thought a sweatshirt and leggings would totally land me a guy and now I almost gag at how I looked back then. The thing about it though is this, I would not change anything. No matter how my hair was or what I was wearing I was making memories.
Sometimes we forget about the memories we have made in our lives, especailly as we get older. It's funny how you can forget about something entirely and then you find a picture and you are suddenly transported back in time remembering little details of that picture.
I look at old pictures of my mom and dad way before I was born. There is my mom so glamorous and dressed so pretty sitting on my dad's lap with his arms around her. They looked like they were so in love. Then there are pictures of my siblings and I growing up and my sister holding me in her arms when I was so little. She said to me I have always been like her baby. A picture of my mom on her wedding day to Pappy (my stepfather) when they married in Las Vegas, older but with happiness on her face. There's a picture of my husband and I when we celebrated our first new years eve. There was a look of newness on our faces, not knowing what the future would hold.
One of my most favorite pictures is that of my son looking down at my daughter and she is looking up at him. It is a black and white photo and it is timeless. It captures their youth before time and age separated them as friends. Sure I still sometimes catch them sharing a brother sister moment laughing with each other, but those times are rare and I miss that. That picture is in my house and on my desk to remind me of happiness.
Old pictures are like therapy. They can make you cry, they can make you smile, they can make you feel things you forgot about and even things you don't want to remember. I have pictures hanging in my closet, pictures hanging in my house, in my wallet, on my desk. I will never grow tired of my pictures. They are where I came from, where I have been and where I am going.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
A Flower In Bloom...Hello! I Am The Flower!
There's a song by a singer named Tamia called "Stranger In My House". It's about a woman whose man has changed from what she used to know and love and has since then become a stranger to her. One of the lines that stands out goes like this:
"Or could it be that the stranger is me-Have I changed so drastically-Is it I want more for me-And you remain the same"
I think of that phrase sometimes and I can totally relate.
I met him when I had just turned 21. By my 22nd birthday we were a few weeks away from having our first child. I was in love. we both were. I cannot say that we are not in love anymore, we have our days. Our routine goes something like love each other madly one day, fight three days, tolerate each other two days and then the other day is a wild card. Yes, I do love him and I always will even if we want to kill each other tomorrow, but the love that once was there when we first met has slowly faded. I know that raising two teenagers does not make it easy and stresses us both out. By the time we have any time to be alone, we are too stressed out to get close, be in love and stay in love.
Though it is not something I think I would brave the waters at, I could see how people fall into the temptation of having a secret life with some other guy or girl that compliments you and tells you what you want to hear. I guess what it comes down to is that people just need to be needed and feel like someone thinks they are the cat's meow.
I have those days some days where I feel like I am all he needs in the world. Then there are those days when I feel like either of us could care less. Which leads me back to the song lyrics I told you about before. Perhaps he didn't change and is the same person he always has been. Maybe I am the one who through the years has changed and I want and expect more of myself, of life, my life.
For as long as I can remember I put my writing dreams away somewhere in the back of my mind, until recently when I started writing more poetry and began this blog. I put my creative side away and use it only to decorate for holidays and special events. Today I volunteered to help out in the nursery at church and even help in children's church. I was excited, I am excited. It's like someone started a fire under my feet and I am ready to live again. It is something I have been praying for and I feel like God is answering my prayers.
When I told him about how I volunteered he got that look on his face. You know the one that involves no words but it says a million. What was going through his mind probably consisted of something like..."Effin great, now she's gonna have even less time to be home for whenever I need her". Well, maybe that is being a little sarcastic but I'm sure it was somewhere close.
The thing is, I am changing. I do want more for me. I want to leave my mark and love being me again. Yes I love being a mother though my kids act like they could care less half the time. They are my whole world and I want to show them that they should never give up on their dreams and to live life without people making them feel bad about it. I love the fact that my job enables me to own a home and provide for my family and I am grateful, but still I am left to wonder am I where I am supposed to be. I DO love my husband, honestly. My wish would be that he would know that I am changing, and it's for the better...for the greater good...for all of us. Maybe my new self will tell him, and maybe just maybe he will like the new me better. Maybe I am not changing at all, I would like to think I am just blooming:)
"Or could it be that the stranger is me-Have I changed so drastically-Is it I want more for me-And you remain the same"
I think of that phrase sometimes and I can totally relate.
I met him when I had just turned 21. By my 22nd birthday we were a few weeks away from having our first child. I was in love. we both were. I cannot say that we are not in love anymore, we have our days. Our routine goes something like love each other madly one day, fight three days, tolerate each other two days and then the other day is a wild card. Yes, I do love him and I always will even if we want to kill each other tomorrow, but the love that once was there when we first met has slowly faded. I know that raising two teenagers does not make it easy and stresses us both out. By the time we have any time to be alone, we are too stressed out to get close, be in love and stay in love.
Though it is not something I think I would brave the waters at, I could see how people fall into the temptation of having a secret life with some other guy or girl that compliments you and tells you what you want to hear. I guess what it comes down to is that people just need to be needed and feel like someone thinks they are the cat's meow.
I have those days some days where I feel like I am all he needs in the world. Then there are those days when I feel like either of us could care less. Which leads me back to the song lyrics I told you about before. Perhaps he didn't change and is the same person he always has been. Maybe I am the one who through the years has changed and I want and expect more of myself, of life, my life.
For as long as I can remember I put my writing dreams away somewhere in the back of my mind, until recently when I started writing more poetry and began this blog. I put my creative side away and use it only to decorate for holidays and special events. Today I volunteered to help out in the nursery at church and even help in children's church. I was excited, I am excited. It's like someone started a fire under my feet and I am ready to live again. It is something I have been praying for and I feel like God is answering my prayers.
When I told him about how I volunteered he got that look on his face. You know the one that involves no words but it says a million. What was going through his mind probably consisted of something like..."Effin great, now she's gonna have even less time to be home for whenever I need her". Well, maybe that is being a little sarcastic but I'm sure it was somewhere close.
The thing is, I am changing. I do want more for me. I want to leave my mark and love being me again. Yes I love being a mother though my kids act like they could care less half the time. They are my whole world and I want to show them that they should never give up on their dreams and to live life without people making them feel bad about it. I love the fact that my job enables me to own a home and provide for my family and I am grateful, but still I am left to wonder am I where I am supposed to be. I DO love my husband, honestly. My wish would be that he would know that I am changing, and it's for the better...for the greater good...for all of us. Maybe my new self will tell him, and maybe just maybe he will like the new me better. Maybe I am not changing at all, I would like to think I am just blooming:)
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Memories of Manny...The Last Days
So on August 4, 2005 with the help of my Dad's friends with a truck we gathered the belongings he had left and loaded him up and ventured off to his new life and we were so excited but most of all I sensed a change in him, an actual smile on his face.
We placed everything where he wanted it and we went shopping at thrift stores and found him a cute table and chairs and a nice little sofa. I went shopping for groceries and other things he was going to need for his brand new life. That night I cooked for him. The next day we went over and we were all so happy. We watched the TV that the cable guy hooked up. I remember that my dad was so happy that he would be able to watch whatever he wanted and for however long he wanted. We went swimming in his pool while my dad watched from his seat under the nice big trees. I left that night and told him I was going shopping for him and asked what he wanted. After giving me his list, I left. He must have called my cell phone that night like four or five times to keep adding food to the list. I told him I would be over to his house by seven since my husband was dropping me off before work. He told me he would be waiting.
The next day as promised, he was waiting as I turned my key into his lock. There was my little tiny dad sleeping on his couch. I touched his face and he woke up with a smile. I put his groceries away and started chorizo and eggs for all of us. I remember a lot of things about that day. I remember him putting in a CD of a female mexican trio he loved called Aroma and asked my daughter to dance for him and she did. We watched TV and laughed at funny commercials. We went for a walk around his senior citizen complex and he even flirted with one of the ladies in the laundry room. It was the happiest I had seen him in so long. I was only staying there till about noon because we had to catch the bus. One of our cars was not running well so it was easier to do this. He asked me if I could cut his toenails before I left and though the thought of sawing my way through his toenails was not a picnic, I did it because he was my dad. There is a funny story of this I will share another time, but the whole experience wasn't that bad. I put the clippers away and I kissed my dad on his head and looked him in the eyes and said..." I love you Daddy". The kids kissed him too and I told him that tomorrow would be the first day my husband would be there to stay with him and since school was out, the kids would be there too. He smiled and told us he loved us and to be careful on the bus...and we left.
I remember running to the bus and getting off of Route 15 and walking to the bench to wait for Route 1. I got a call and it was my dad. "Hi mija, is everything ok? "Yeah dad, we're fine, just waiting for our bus to get home" "Ok, I love you." " I love you too dad, I will call you in the morning, you get some rest". "Ok Mija, bye". "Bye dad".
We got home that night and my cat that had gone missing appeared that night in bad shape. It could barely walk and it looked like it got attacked by a dog or hit by a car. I knew my cat would not make it through even a few hours even if we took it to a vet. The one thing I noticed that stood out was the side of it's face it looked smashed up and bloodied. It broke my heart. I took it by our garage and placed it in a little spot with a cover so flies would not disturb my dying cat. A few months prior to this when my dad was in the hospital and I thought he might die there my friend Frankie told me that I had to tell him it was ok to let go of us and that we would be ok, and I never did that. But that night with my cat, I did and it was like my cat understood.
About an hour later I went to check on my cat and she was gone. Yes her body was there but her soul was in cat heaven, I was sure of that because I suddenly felt a sense of peace in my heart.
Monday came and I went to to work. I was there about an hour when my phone rang. It was my husband. "You need to come over to your dad's apartment, I came in and I think he fell and hit his head." "Is he ok?" "Yeah, but just have Frankie drive you, everything's fine but I know you will drive here all crazy" "Is he breathing" "Yeah, I think so, and I called the paramedics to check on him just come over."
Frankie gathered her keys and I told my boss I had to leave and why. I was considerably calm from what I remember and it was because my husband was so calm. As Frankie and I got closer, I told her that I was scared and she told me she was scared for me too. I remember calling my husband back and telling him to tell the paramedics to take him to the VA Hospital. Frankie laughed and said they would take him wherever was closest. I remember seeing a cop car, a paramedic and an ambulance. Now I was scared. I ran through the clubhouse where I saw my kids with the Manager and my son told me..."Mom, something's wrong with Grandpa." I got to his apartment and my husband told the paramedic that I was his daughter and then I heard the man say..."We're so sorry Ma'am, there was nothing we could do" "Do? About what"? My husbands face showed it all and I yelled ..."No, no oh my god, daddy". The police officer pulled me aside and asked me routine questions and then I asked him if I could see him. I ran to the bathroom with my husband following me.
There covered up was my dad. It wasn't until I saw his body covered that I realized he was dead and never ever would I get a chance to ever tell him how much I loved him or to talk to him or anything at all. I uncovered his face and the look on his face was bad. It looked like something really traumatic happened to him and his facial gesture showed the pain. There were big circles imprinted on his face from the mat I picked out for his tub so if he fell it would be cushioned. In my heart that made my grateful because I knew that in his last moments at least he was not laying face down on a cold hard tub.
The smell in the room was bad. We figure that sometime in the middle of the night or early morning my dad got up to use the restroom and had a stroke while he was on the toilet. We think he then died and fell to his left hitting his face and head on the shower faucet and landing face first in the tub with his body along the length of his restroom. I will never forget that smell or the look on my daddy's face. I got up and Frankie and my husband helped me make the calls.
As I sat there waiting for people to appear my husband apologized for not telling me over the phone. He knew I would have gone crazy and he was worried about me, thank you Frankie for driving me. I wasn't mad at my husband and then I remembered my cat. It died the night before and it had face trauma and I told her it was ok to go that we would be ok. As strange as it may sound, I knew that my dad died when my cat died. It was a way of me saying goodbye and being at peace and understanding. I will never forget any of that.
A few nights later I was awakened from a dream of me driving down a long street with trees on both sides and meadows but somewhere in the mountains. I was looking for my dad. I opened up my eyes and felt scared. I scooted next to my husband in bed and he woke up. "Are you ok" " I just had a weird dream about my dad" "Me too, we were looking for him on a long road in the mountains." I was freaked out but I knew my dad was ok and present in my heart. Later that week my sister came from San Diego and I told her about my dream...she had the same dream. I get goosebumps whenever I think about it, but I smile. Sometimes I feel the little hairs stand up on the back of my neck and I think about the movie Sixth Sense and how whenever someone who had passed was near the hairs stood up.
I know that my dad is here. When I was little I used to cry sometimes and told him that I didn't want him to die. He told me that when he died he would hear me even though his body wasn't there physically. He told me he would hear me and I would be able to feel he was here like he was talking to me with no words. He told me though he didn't live here on earth with me he would live in my heart forever...he was right, and he does. I miss you Manny. I was so lucky to have had you for my Dad and I was blessed, thank you for coming into my life. I miss you everyday and will love you forever.
We placed everything where he wanted it and we went shopping at thrift stores and found him a cute table and chairs and a nice little sofa. I went shopping for groceries and other things he was going to need for his brand new life. That night I cooked for him. The next day we went over and we were all so happy. We watched the TV that the cable guy hooked up. I remember that my dad was so happy that he would be able to watch whatever he wanted and for however long he wanted. We went swimming in his pool while my dad watched from his seat under the nice big trees. I left that night and told him I was going shopping for him and asked what he wanted. After giving me his list, I left. He must have called my cell phone that night like four or five times to keep adding food to the list. I told him I would be over to his house by seven since my husband was dropping me off before work. He told me he would be waiting.
The next day as promised, he was waiting as I turned my key into his lock. There was my little tiny dad sleeping on his couch. I touched his face and he woke up with a smile. I put his groceries away and started chorizo and eggs for all of us. I remember a lot of things about that day. I remember him putting in a CD of a female mexican trio he loved called Aroma and asked my daughter to dance for him and she did. We watched TV and laughed at funny commercials. We went for a walk around his senior citizen complex and he even flirted with one of the ladies in the laundry room. It was the happiest I had seen him in so long. I was only staying there till about noon because we had to catch the bus. One of our cars was not running well so it was easier to do this. He asked me if I could cut his toenails before I left and though the thought of sawing my way through his toenails was not a picnic, I did it because he was my dad. There is a funny story of this I will share another time, but the whole experience wasn't that bad. I put the clippers away and I kissed my dad on his head and looked him in the eyes and said..." I love you Daddy". The kids kissed him too and I told him that tomorrow would be the first day my husband would be there to stay with him and since school was out, the kids would be there too. He smiled and told us he loved us and to be careful on the bus...and we left.
I remember running to the bus and getting off of Route 15 and walking to the bench to wait for Route 1. I got a call and it was my dad. "Hi mija, is everything ok? "Yeah dad, we're fine, just waiting for our bus to get home" "Ok, I love you." " I love you too dad, I will call you in the morning, you get some rest". "Ok Mija, bye". "Bye dad".
We got home that night and my cat that had gone missing appeared that night in bad shape. It could barely walk and it looked like it got attacked by a dog or hit by a car. I knew my cat would not make it through even a few hours even if we took it to a vet. The one thing I noticed that stood out was the side of it's face it looked smashed up and bloodied. It broke my heart. I took it by our garage and placed it in a little spot with a cover so flies would not disturb my dying cat. A few months prior to this when my dad was in the hospital and I thought he might die there my friend Frankie told me that I had to tell him it was ok to let go of us and that we would be ok, and I never did that. But that night with my cat, I did and it was like my cat understood.
About an hour later I went to check on my cat and she was gone. Yes her body was there but her soul was in cat heaven, I was sure of that because I suddenly felt a sense of peace in my heart.
Monday came and I went to to work. I was there about an hour when my phone rang. It was my husband. "You need to come over to your dad's apartment, I came in and I think he fell and hit his head." "Is he ok?" "Yeah, but just have Frankie drive you, everything's fine but I know you will drive here all crazy" "Is he breathing" "Yeah, I think so, and I called the paramedics to check on him just come over."
Frankie gathered her keys and I told my boss I had to leave and why. I was considerably calm from what I remember and it was because my husband was so calm. As Frankie and I got closer, I told her that I was scared and she told me she was scared for me too. I remember calling my husband back and telling him to tell the paramedics to take him to the VA Hospital. Frankie laughed and said they would take him wherever was closest. I remember seeing a cop car, a paramedic and an ambulance. Now I was scared. I ran through the clubhouse where I saw my kids with the Manager and my son told me..."Mom, something's wrong with Grandpa." I got to his apartment and my husband told the paramedic that I was his daughter and then I heard the man say..."We're so sorry Ma'am, there was nothing we could do" "Do? About what"? My husbands face showed it all and I yelled ..."No, no oh my god, daddy". The police officer pulled me aside and asked me routine questions and then I asked him if I could see him. I ran to the bathroom with my husband following me.
There covered up was my dad. It wasn't until I saw his body covered that I realized he was dead and never ever would I get a chance to ever tell him how much I loved him or to talk to him or anything at all. I uncovered his face and the look on his face was bad. It looked like something really traumatic happened to him and his facial gesture showed the pain. There were big circles imprinted on his face from the mat I picked out for his tub so if he fell it would be cushioned. In my heart that made my grateful because I knew that in his last moments at least he was not laying face down on a cold hard tub.
The smell in the room was bad. We figure that sometime in the middle of the night or early morning my dad got up to use the restroom and had a stroke while he was on the toilet. We think he then died and fell to his left hitting his face and head on the shower faucet and landing face first in the tub with his body along the length of his restroom. I will never forget that smell or the look on my daddy's face. I got up and Frankie and my husband helped me make the calls.
As I sat there waiting for people to appear my husband apologized for not telling me over the phone. He knew I would have gone crazy and he was worried about me, thank you Frankie for driving me. I wasn't mad at my husband and then I remembered my cat. It died the night before and it had face trauma and I told her it was ok to go that we would be ok. As strange as it may sound, I knew that my dad died when my cat died. It was a way of me saying goodbye and being at peace and understanding. I will never forget any of that.
A few nights later I was awakened from a dream of me driving down a long street with trees on both sides and meadows but somewhere in the mountains. I was looking for my dad. I opened up my eyes and felt scared. I scooted next to my husband in bed and he woke up. "Are you ok" " I just had a weird dream about my dad" "Me too, we were looking for him on a long road in the mountains." I was freaked out but I knew my dad was ok and present in my heart. Later that week my sister came from San Diego and I told her about my dream...she had the same dream. I get goosebumps whenever I think about it, but I smile. Sometimes I feel the little hairs stand up on the back of my neck and I think about the movie Sixth Sense and how whenever someone who had passed was near the hairs stood up.
I know that my dad is here. When I was little I used to cry sometimes and told him that I didn't want him to die. He told me that when he died he would hear me even though his body wasn't there physically. He told me he would hear me and I would be able to feel he was here like he was talking to me with no words. He told me though he didn't live here on earth with me he would live in my heart forever...he was right, and he does. I miss you Manny. I was so lucky to have had you for my Dad and I was blessed, thank you for coming into my life. I miss you everyday and will love you forever.
Memories of Manny
My Dad and I were very close. I was the typical Daddy's Girl. My Mom, as my Sister and I saw it favored my Brother. Looking back now and after having a Son and a Daughter myself, I realize she probably didn't favor my brother but was nicer to him because he was nicer than us girls...which is how it is in my house. So, I clung to my Dad. My favorite line growing up was..."I'm going to tell my Dad".
I could tell my Dad practically anything and in his eyes I was perfect. When I met HIM my dad typically liked him but then one day my Dad asked HIM to help him clean the pool. I was thinking this was a good thing until he told my Dad..."Why, I don't swim in it". That was when my dad told me he wasn't allowed to come over anymore. I was 21 and pregnant and ived with my parents and here is my Dad telling me that my baby daddy could not come over.
I was in love and so I moved out to somewhere my boyfriend would be allowed..our own apartment. It was good and my Dad came around eventually and things went back to normal. Then I had my baby. A little boy. Though my Dad helped raise my Brother, he never had a son of his own, so when I had my litle boy, my Dad was in heaven, that was his boy!
My Dad had a way of talking to me that made me feel safe. Whenever I was sad he would tell me it would be okay and whoever was making me sad or upset, my dad liked to say..."Eff em!" Somehow that always made me feel better, and it still does. After my Mom and Dad divorced we became even closer. Me and the kids were over at his house all the time. We would have family fun night and play games like twister and aggravation. We would cook and watch movies and the kids loved him.
He ended up on disability after he had a heart attack and he had to rent a room from someone he considered a good friend. Then he got really sick. He was in the hospital for three months in 2005. I was prepared to have him die there in his hospital room. All his organs were failing him and I could touch his skin and my fingerprints would stay there like memory foam. I would go home and cry and be sad each time I left my dad there. Eventually things got better for him in the hospital and he stayed in a part of the hospital that was like a rehabilatation section until they could go home and the doctors felt comfortable to let them go home. I don't think that his doctors ever felt comfortable letting him leave, but he did.
He did not want to be there in the hospital for his birthday, so he requested to leave. I was worried about him. He lived in a back room with not much help. His supposed friend he lived with offered more help and signed up in a County program to get paid to take care of him. She actually became mean to my dad. She would bring him breakfast that consisted of a piece of pan dulce and something to drink. Everything else, he was pretty much on his own. I shopped for him for things he could put in his microwave and my Uncle and Aunt would help as much as they could as well. I washed my Dad's clothes and here was this lady lying and getting paid. This hurt me and my Dad was not happy.
As his Daughter, I moved him out. Yes, I could have moved him out and into my house and I sometimes feel bad I didn't. My house was small though and I knew that would not be good for him. I found him a little apartment that was close to my work and home. My plan was to have my husband sign up for the program to get paid as he was out of work. I thought this would be a good bonding thing and everyone agreed. I would be with my dad on the weekends and in the evenings and even go on my lunch hours and my Husband would be there with him through the day...this was going to work.
In my next blog I will tell you about his first four days in the apartment and the last four days of my dad's life.
I could tell my Dad practically anything and in his eyes I was perfect. When I met HIM my dad typically liked him but then one day my Dad asked HIM to help him clean the pool. I was thinking this was a good thing until he told my Dad..."Why, I don't swim in it". That was when my dad told me he wasn't allowed to come over anymore. I was 21 and pregnant and ived with my parents and here is my Dad telling me that my baby daddy could not come over.
I was in love and so I moved out to somewhere my boyfriend would be allowed..our own apartment. It was good and my Dad came around eventually and things went back to normal. Then I had my baby. A little boy. Though my Dad helped raise my Brother, he never had a son of his own, so when I had my litle boy, my Dad was in heaven, that was his boy!
My Dad had a way of talking to me that made me feel safe. Whenever I was sad he would tell me it would be okay and whoever was making me sad or upset, my dad liked to say..."Eff em!" Somehow that always made me feel better, and it still does. After my Mom and Dad divorced we became even closer. Me and the kids were over at his house all the time. We would have family fun night and play games like twister and aggravation. We would cook and watch movies and the kids loved him.
He ended up on disability after he had a heart attack and he had to rent a room from someone he considered a good friend. Then he got really sick. He was in the hospital for three months in 2005. I was prepared to have him die there in his hospital room. All his organs were failing him and I could touch his skin and my fingerprints would stay there like memory foam. I would go home and cry and be sad each time I left my dad there. Eventually things got better for him in the hospital and he stayed in a part of the hospital that was like a rehabilatation section until they could go home and the doctors felt comfortable to let them go home. I don't think that his doctors ever felt comfortable letting him leave, but he did.
He did not want to be there in the hospital for his birthday, so he requested to leave. I was worried about him. He lived in a back room with not much help. His supposed friend he lived with offered more help and signed up in a County program to get paid to take care of him. She actually became mean to my dad. She would bring him breakfast that consisted of a piece of pan dulce and something to drink. Everything else, he was pretty much on his own. I shopped for him for things he could put in his microwave and my Uncle and Aunt would help as much as they could as well. I washed my Dad's clothes and here was this lady lying and getting paid. This hurt me and my Dad was not happy.
As his Daughter, I moved him out. Yes, I could have moved him out and into my house and I sometimes feel bad I didn't. My house was small though and I knew that would not be good for him. I found him a little apartment that was close to my work and home. My plan was to have my husband sign up for the program to get paid as he was out of work. I thought this would be a good bonding thing and everyone agreed. I would be with my dad on the weekends and in the evenings and even go on my lunch hours and my Husband would be there with him through the day...this was going to work.
In my next blog I will tell you about his first four days in the apartment and the last four days of my dad's life.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Ode To Teachers Everywhere...
Tonight was back to school night at my kid's high school. One is a Freshman, the other a Junior. I sit here enlightened at how things change through the years. All you moms know what I mean.
When your babies begin Kindergarten, you are the overprotective mother. You get mad if some other kid even thinks of pushing your baby off the tricycle at recess. When the teacher tells you something negative about your baby you get defensive, even if in the back of your mind you know it's true. Secretly, you hate the teacher a little, and you may even feel guilty for it.
You go to volunteer at the elementary school as the years go by, and they are still your perfect baby, even though you sometimes witness your perfect baby being a total brat. Sure the teacher says negative things still as well as positive but you only hear the good. If they can't see how perfect your baby is, maybe the Principal will when you complain that the teacher is insensitive.
Then...Junior high. By now your perfect babies are rolling their eyes at you, telling you how embarrassing you are and oh , did I mention this is the point they even tell you they hate you. You still love your babies and still think even a little that the teacher must have misplaced that missing assignment, even though you know your kid is crazy and really didn't turn it in.
It is around the end of their junior high years and into the beginning of high school that those days from long ago when your kid begged you to please call the teacher and ask how they can bring up their grade is gone. If your kid wants to fail on their own so be it, you can't hold their hand anymore, though secretly you still want to. Gone are the days of talking crap about their teacher and something magical happens...you really love their teachers.
It is like these teachers are heaven sent angels who have the grueling task of educating your children when you can't. They understand your feelings and know exactly what buttons your kids use against any adult who tries to spoil their day and are your buddies. The tables have turned and you realize they are good people trying to make a difference in your kid's lives, and suddenly you are grateful for teachers everywhere...except the dumb ones of course. I know, I know I just totally switched gears there, but let's face it, you know there are teachers out there that you wonder how in the hell they got into teaching. I will only say that out of the 13 teachers between my kids teachers, there is just one, but I would never mention who!
Really though I was intrigued that I liked them all so much. They were cool and hip and just the kind of teacher I would want my kids to have. Even the few that they mentioned they didn't like, I did.
They will understand one day when they are walking around at open house night with their babies right after the kids roll their eyes at them and tell them they are embarrassing...ah sweet reveng, I await you patiently.
When your babies begin Kindergarten, you are the overprotective mother. You get mad if some other kid even thinks of pushing your baby off the tricycle at recess. When the teacher tells you something negative about your baby you get defensive, even if in the back of your mind you know it's true. Secretly, you hate the teacher a little, and you may even feel guilty for it.
You go to volunteer at the elementary school as the years go by, and they are still your perfect baby, even though you sometimes witness your perfect baby being a total brat. Sure the teacher says negative things still as well as positive but you only hear the good. If they can't see how perfect your baby is, maybe the Principal will when you complain that the teacher is insensitive.
Then...Junior high. By now your perfect babies are rolling their eyes at you, telling you how embarrassing you are and oh , did I mention this is the point they even tell you they hate you. You still love your babies and still think even a little that the teacher must have misplaced that missing assignment, even though you know your kid is crazy and really didn't turn it in.
It is around the end of their junior high years and into the beginning of high school that those days from long ago when your kid begged you to please call the teacher and ask how they can bring up their grade is gone. If your kid wants to fail on their own so be it, you can't hold their hand anymore, though secretly you still want to. Gone are the days of talking crap about their teacher and something magical happens...you really love their teachers.
It is like these teachers are heaven sent angels who have the grueling task of educating your children when you can't. They understand your feelings and know exactly what buttons your kids use against any adult who tries to spoil their day and are your buddies. The tables have turned and you realize they are good people trying to make a difference in your kid's lives, and suddenly you are grateful for teachers everywhere...except the dumb ones of course. I know, I know I just totally switched gears there, but let's face it, you know there are teachers out there that you wonder how in the hell they got into teaching. I will only say that out of the 13 teachers between my kids teachers, there is just one, but I would never mention who!
Really though I was intrigued that I liked them all so much. They were cool and hip and just the kind of teacher I would want my kids to have. Even the few that they mentioned they didn't like, I did.
They will understand one day when they are walking around at open house night with their babies right after the kids roll their eyes at them and tell them they are embarrassing...ah sweet reveng, I await you patiently.
Monday, September 13, 2010
BF 2010
Okay so tonight I just have been thinking about a lot of things that I want to bitch about and I would like to share them with you, I hope you don't mind.
I hate it when your family tells you that you don't talk to them enough but others in the realm of your world tell you have a big mouth...um yeah , I do but you know that.
I hate how when your kids are mad at their friends they start pointing out how your friends are no better.
I hate it when you go to get some soda from your fridge and when you unscrew the cap, there is nothing but flatness.
I hate it when you get all cute right before bed for your man and they just don't get it...until the next morning, which by then they lost all their chance of getting anything...don't they know that us women feel cute and freakier at night?
I hate it when my dogs won't shut the eff up, like now.
I hate it when your sibling fights with you but you are the one who is expected to fix it.
I hate it when people don't know what a cupcake cup is.
I hate it when you go to the trash to throw something away and your trash engineers also known as your family have made a tower of trash so high that it does not topple over till you put yours on top.
I hate when crazy recycling people go through my recycling trash can in the front.
I hate it when after I have peed out an ocean, nobody has replaced the empty toilet paper roll.
I hate people who think they can take what is yours.
I hate it when after someone tries to help you, instead of thanking them, you blast them and forget how grateful you were that they helped you in the first place.
I hate when my frickin dogs will not shut up!!
I hate it how people get stupid parking tickets that don't mean anything.
I hate evaluations.
I hate feeling guilty because I want meat.
I hate missing church now.
I hate certain pictures on my desk.
I hate doors that are falling apart.
I hate non payday weeks.
I hate Bieber Fever!
UGH! I'm done...and you know what... I think I feel better. A good bitchfest is good for the soul!
I hate it when your family tells you that you don't talk to them enough but others in the realm of your world tell you have a big mouth...um yeah , I do but you know that.
I hate how when your kids are mad at their friends they start pointing out how your friends are no better.
I hate it when you go to get some soda from your fridge and when you unscrew the cap, there is nothing but flatness.
I hate it when you get all cute right before bed for your man and they just don't get it...until the next morning, which by then they lost all their chance of getting anything...don't they know that us women feel cute and freakier at night?
I hate it when my dogs won't shut the eff up, like now.
I hate it when your sibling fights with you but you are the one who is expected to fix it.
I hate it when people don't know what a cupcake cup is.
I hate it when you go to the trash to throw something away and your trash engineers also known as your family have made a tower of trash so high that it does not topple over till you put yours on top.
I hate when crazy recycling people go through my recycling trash can in the front.
I hate it when after I have peed out an ocean, nobody has replaced the empty toilet paper roll.
I hate people who think they can take what is yours.
I hate it when after someone tries to help you, instead of thanking them, you blast them and forget how grateful you were that they helped you in the first place.
I hate when my frickin dogs will not shut up!!
I hate it how people get stupid parking tickets that don't mean anything.
I hate evaluations.
I hate feeling guilty because I want meat.
I hate missing church now.
I hate certain pictures on my desk.
I hate doors that are falling apart.
I hate non payday weeks.
I hate Bieber Fever!
UGH! I'm done...and you know what... I think I feel better. A good bitchfest is good for the soul!
Turning Into Joy
When I was little, I used to watch my mom put on her makeup. The way she burned her eyeliner to make it soft to go on smooth, the way she would roll her lipstick across her lips. I used to watch her choose what to wear and I thought she always looked so put together. Then, as I got a little older and in my teens I thought she wore too much blush and we nicknamed her Polly Ester because that seemed to be what she lived in and me and my brother hated it.
My mom would not let us wash dishes because she did it quicker and better. We were not allowed to use her washer and dryer because she said we would break it. She left post it notes for us giving us directions when she wasn't at home. If I did not clean my room to her satisfaction, she did it for me, her way and threw stuff away in the process. I hated it and I hated living there sometimes.
Then, I moved out, had a family and household of my own and started doing things my way.
But yesterday, I realized that I am in more ways than I ever thought I would, becoming like my mother. My mom lives in Texas now and when we went to visit her she had to show us the Super Wal-Mart. This is a place she could go for everything she needed, including groceries. We were not too amazed, I mean it was only Wal-Mart and we do have those here. Yeah, it was neat to see the groceries in Wal-Mart because my Wal-Mart didn't really have all that.
Little did I know that one day I would walk into my neighborhood Wal-Mart and I would have groceries accessible to me....until yesterday! After months of hating Wal-Mart because of this huge remodeling thing they were doing we received a five dollar gift card in the mail telling us to come check out the new grocery section and informing us remodeling is done. When I walked in, I was so amazed! They had everything I needed!!! It was awkward, but there in front of me was produce and soooo cheap too! I kept telling my son..."Wow, do you know how happy I am?" To which he kept responding..."Calm down Mom!" Now I knew what made my mom so excitedly happy.
The husband is always telling me I worry too much and I am just like my mother. I thought about that this weekend and I realized, I am like her...but when did that happen? What happened to the teenager who rebelled and told my mom, she was not my mother because she was White and I looked Mexican?
I realized that my teenage daughter never cleans her room how I want it and there I am throwing junk away and doing it myself. There I am leaving notes for my family when I am not around giving them instructions on how to do whatever when I am not around. There I am nagging him and worrying like crazy. There I am washing the dishes myself and doing the laundry myself too. There I am with polyester pants...OMG...I have become my mother.
It isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I cannot help it if I just want things done my way...my mother's way. I love you Mom!
My mom would not let us wash dishes because she did it quicker and better. We were not allowed to use her washer and dryer because she said we would break it. She left post it notes for us giving us directions when she wasn't at home. If I did not clean my room to her satisfaction, she did it for me, her way and threw stuff away in the process. I hated it and I hated living there sometimes.
Then, I moved out, had a family and household of my own and started doing things my way.
But yesterday, I realized that I am in more ways than I ever thought I would, becoming like my mother. My mom lives in Texas now and when we went to visit her she had to show us the Super Wal-Mart. This is a place she could go for everything she needed, including groceries. We were not too amazed, I mean it was only Wal-Mart and we do have those here. Yeah, it was neat to see the groceries in Wal-Mart because my Wal-Mart didn't really have all that.
Little did I know that one day I would walk into my neighborhood Wal-Mart and I would have groceries accessible to me....until yesterday! After months of hating Wal-Mart because of this huge remodeling thing they were doing we received a five dollar gift card in the mail telling us to come check out the new grocery section and informing us remodeling is done. When I walked in, I was so amazed! They had everything I needed!!! It was awkward, but there in front of me was produce and soooo cheap too! I kept telling my son..."Wow, do you know how happy I am?" To which he kept responding..."Calm down Mom!" Now I knew what made my mom so excitedly happy.
The husband is always telling me I worry too much and I am just like my mother. I thought about that this weekend and I realized, I am like her...but when did that happen? What happened to the teenager who rebelled and told my mom, she was not my mother because she was White and I looked Mexican?
I realized that my teenage daughter never cleans her room how I want it and there I am throwing junk away and doing it myself. There I am leaving notes for my family when I am not around giving them instructions on how to do whatever when I am not around. There I am nagging him and worrying like crazy. There I am washing the dishes myself and doing the laundry myself too. There I am with polyester pants...OMG...I have become my mother.
It isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I cannot help it if I just want things done my way...my mother's way. I love you Mom!
Friday, September 10, 2010
Where are you Mother Nature...Im Waiting!!
Yesterday I got on the scale at work in our workout room and was sad. I did not feel like what the scale told me. I mean, I even took off my jacket and shoes and I still wasn't satisfied. After I was done weighing myself I put my shoes and jacket on and looked to my right. There on the workout room walls are mirrors the entire length of the room as if to show you that you are fat and to catch all the dissapointment on your face once you step off the scale that just told you how fat you are.
When I complain to people that I am fat, they always try and make me feel better and say no, you're little. I am little but that means short to me, which I am. Even the skinniest person in the world thinks they are fat and each person has a certain goal weight in their head of what their perfgect self should and could be. My goal weight is 105. Now, will I ever be that? I doubt it...but I have hope! Even as we speak I am watching Total Body Sculpt with Gilad. I love him! He is always so enthusiastic as his fit little body works out under a palm tree in front of a Hawaiian beach. I guess my excuse for not getting up and working out right now is that it's my Friday and I have a lot to do, plus I have to write my blog! I also can say that I watch these shows for ideas so I can work out later....hmmm, yeah right!
Afriend at work talked me into becoming a vegetarian like she has done. She also showed me pictures of her daughter in law who lost weight since she has become a vegetarian. I am proud to say that I have been meat free for a week now...go me! What really sucks though is how restaurants telepathically know that you can't eat something so they come out with something new and blast their commercials all the time. I am dying to go to Taco Bell for some cheesy flatbread chicken thingy...but I won't! I can't be tempted!!! Then yesterday I was reminded about a dinner meeting I have to attend. To take the place of my meat I will have dessert, so that won't be too bad, but damn...meat is everywhere.
On Wednesday my friend and I fasted and only had liquids for a full twenty four hours. It was good. I drank more water and saw the restroom at work more than I have in a month! I have to tell you though that my weight is weird because I have a thyroid problem. Unfortunately I do not have the overactive thyroid, I have the underactive one, the lazy one! Yes, I have a prescription of something that is supposed to help this but I am not a faithful pill popper. I told this to my doctor and he asked me why I do not take it everyday and I was totally honest. I told him that when I take my pills like I should, my monthly friend, you know, Mother Nature, comes as it should. I mean it's either I am fat and don't have a period or drop some pounds and wear raggedy underwear for a week while my friend visits me. Hmmmm, I know, I am twisted!
So Gilad is on his cool down now and the waves continue to crash on his beach. My life this last month has faced me with changes that I am making, that are happening in my life, so what better time than now? Maybe I won't have dessert tonight after all. Maybe I will go do my six minute shake weight requirement for ths day...Damn Gilad shutup, I can't think!!! What was I saying? Oh yeah...maybe. Maybe I will drink more water today and maybe I will take that stupid levothyroxin pill so my thyroid won't be so pissed at me. Bring it on Mother Nature...I'm ready to be a skinny bitch!
When I complain to people that I am fat, they always try and make me feel better and say no, you're little. I am little but that means short to me, which I am. Even the skinniest person in the world thinks they are fat and each person has a certain goal weight in their head of what their perfgect self should and could be. My goal weight is 105. Now, will I ever be that? I doubt it...but I have hope! Even as we speak I am watching Total Body Sculpt with Gilad. I love him! He is always so enthusiastic as his fit little body works out under a palm tree in front of a Hawaiian beach. I guess my excuse for not getting up and working out right now is that it's my Friday and I have a lot to do, plus I have to write my blog! I also can say that I watch these shows for ideas so I can work out later....hmmm, yeah right!
Afriend at work talked me into becoming a vegetarian like she has done. She also showed me pictures of her daughter in law who lost weight since she has become a vegetarian. I am proud to say that I have been meat free for a week now...go me! What really sucks though is how restaurants telepathically know that you can't eat something so they come out with something new and blast their commercials all the time. I am dying to go to Taco Bell for some cheesy flatbread chicken thingy...but I won't! I can't be tempted!!! Then yesterday I was reminded about a dinner meeting I have to attend. To take the place of my meat I will have dessert, so that won't be too bad, but damn...meat is everywhere.
On Wednesday my friend and I fasted and only had liquids for a full twenty four hours. It was good. I drank more water and saw the restroom at work more than I have in a month! I have to tell you though that my weight is weird because I have a thyroid problem. Unfortunately I do not have the overactive thyroid, I have the underactive one, the lazy one! Yes, I have a prescription of something that is supposed to help this but I am not a faithful pill popper. I told this to my doctor and he asked me why I do not take it everyday and I was totally honest. I told him that when I take my pills like I should, my monthly friend, you know, Mother Nature, comes as it should. I mean it's either I am fat and don't have a period or drop some pounds and wear raggedy underwear for a week while my friend visits me. Hmmmm, I know, I am twisted!
So Gilad is on his cool down now and the waves continue to crash on his beach. My life this last month has faced me with changes that I am making, that are happening in my life, so what better time than now? Maybe I won't have dessert tonight after all. Maybe I will go do my six minute shake weight requirement for ths day...Damn Gilad shutup, I can't think!!! What was I saying? Oh yeah...maybe. Maybe I will drink more water today and maybe I will take that stupid levothyroxin pill so my thyroid won't be so pissed at me. Bring it on Mother Nature...I'm ready to be a skinny bitch!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Fairytales Are For Cinderella...And I'm Not Her
When I was a little girl I would dream about what my life would be like when I got married. I emphasize when because I always knew I wanted to be married. I was never one of those girls who thought boys were gross. I remember chasing a boy named Paul around the playground in Kindergarten. I always imagined that I would have the perfect life with my perfect family and perfect husband with our perfect kids and perfect house and perfect things.
If you have been reading my blog, you know how I met my husband. After that, it was pretty much a whirlwind romance, if you can call it that. We didn't believe in the way most people do things in a relationship. We did things backwards. Not long after we met I felt nauseous one day and I just knew that I was pregnant. A few pregnancy tests proved that to be true. I was 21 and I was happy. I did not care if HE wanted to stick around or not, this was my baby. As it turns out, he did want to stick around and though we were both nervous, we decided to try our hardest to have our fairytale.
We moved in together, our son was born and one day I told him we were going to get married...he said ok, so we did. It was nothing fancy. Our ceremony was in City Hall with close friends and family , and a week later we had a reception in a Knights of Columbus Hall. Soon our daughter came along and life has just seemed to fly by.
Normal people celebrate milestone anniversaries, and they remember them too, but you know that I am not normal. I can't even tell you what we did for our five year anniversary. On our ten year anniversary we were probably planning our vow renewal ceremony that happened three months after our 10th anniversary on December 17th-the day we met. Today is our 15 year anniversary. I can tell you that I woke up to breakfast in bed and passionate lovemaking followed by a day of gazing into each other's eyes and feeding each other strawberries and sipping champagne by candlelight. That is in fact what my perfect fairytale would have been like, but I already told you that my name is not Cinderella.
Instead, I woke up with a stiff neck and back at 4:45 am to walk HIM to the door as he left for work. I handed him an envelope with a little paper I made at work with our picture and happy anniversary wishes. When he asked what it was i told him to open it later. I went back to bed, slept way too late and got ready within 25 minutes. I then got blamed for losing my daughter's shoes since she sould not find them. My friend and I spent the day on a fasting liquid diet so I was starving all day. At work we had a staff meeting and I was pretty blah all day thanks to corporate dream crushers. I got a text message from him telling me he loved me and he had something for me as well. That usually translates to, him rushing to get me something before I get home.
I got a call from another co-worker in a department accessible to a front door saying that she had something for me. I thought it would be flowers, but I was hoping it wasn't, afterall, what did I even get him? It was just a card she handed me and then I laughed and the thought of anthrax passed through my mind...(ok, he's not that clever!) No poison and just a pretty card that was everything an anniversary card should be mushy and all. And then at the end it said....Happy Birthday. I thought it was cute and told him that for my birthday at the end of the month I wanted an anniversary card. I came home after picking up a pizza meal deal for under $10. I washed dishes, cleaned the kitchen, took out trash and took a shower.
No, my life isn't a fairytale. We have our ups and downs and I hate him when I don't love him. He calls me things that rhyme with Hat Sass and Plucking Witch and I call him things that rhyme with Clucking Chick and Cupid Masspole. I have a pile of different wedding looking rings I get from Avon so when I am mad I can take them off and throw them at him. I told you before, we have that El Cantante love. I say I hate him, he says he hates me but the next day we are sitting on the couch hand in hand watching Jeopardy. We are not perfect and I doubt that we ever will be, but what we have works for us, for the moment or for however long. So here's to another milestone anniversary. maybe if I am lucky I will still be writing this blog so that there will at least be a record of what I did on anniversary number 15. Farewell Fairytale and go to hell Cinderella...I'm cuter than you anyways!
If you have been reading my blog, you know how I met my husband. After that, it was pretty much a whirlwind romance, if you can call it that. We didn't believe in the way most people do things in a relationship. We did things backwards. Not long after we met I felt nauseous one day and I just knew that I was pregnant. A few pregnancy tests proved that to be true. I was 21 and I was happy. I did not care if HE wanted to stick around or not, this was my baby. As it turns out, he did want to stick around and though we were both nervous, we decided to try our hardest to have our fairytale.
We moved in together, our son was born and one day I told him we were going to get married...he said ok, so we did. It was nothing fancy. Our ceremony was in City Hall with close friends and family , and a week later we had a reception in a Knights of Columbus Hall. Soon our daughter came along and life has just seemed to fly by.
Normal people celebrate milestone anniversaries, and they remember them too, but you know that I am not normal. I can't even tell you what we did for our five year anniversary. On our ten year anniversary we were probably planning our vow renewal ceremony that happened three months after our 10th anniversary on December 17th-the day we met. Today is our 15 year anniversary. I can tell you that I woke up to breakfast in bed and passionate lovemaking followed by a day of gazing into each other's eyes and feeding each other strawberries and sipping champagne by candlelight. That is in fact what my perfect fairytale would have been like, but I already told you that my name is not Cinderella.
Instead, I woke up with a stiff neck and back at 4:45 am to walk HIM to the door as he left for work. I handed him an envelope with a little paper I made at work with our picture and happy anniversary wishes. When he asked what it was i told him to open it later. I went back to bed, slept way too late and got ready within 25 minutes. I then got blamed for losing my daughter's shoes since she sould not find them. My friend and I spent the day on a fasting liquid diet so I was starving all day. At work we had a staff meeting and I was pretty blah all day thanks to corporate dream crushers. I got a text message from him telling me he loved me and he had something for me as well. That usually translates to, him rushing to get me something before I get home.
I got a call from another co-worker in a department accessible to a front door saying that she had something for me. I thought it would be flowers, but I was hoping it wasn't, afterall, what did I even get him? It was just a card she handed me and then I laughed and the thought of anthrax passed through my mind...(ok, he's not that clever!) No poison and just a pretty card that was everything an anniversary card should be mushy and all. And then at the end it said....Happy Birthday. I thought it was cute and told him that for my birthday at the end of the month I wanted an anniversary card. I came home after picking up a pizza meal deal for under $10. I washed dishes, cleaned the kitchen, took out trash and took a shower.
No, my life isn't a fairytale. We have our ups and downs and I hate him when I don't love him. He calls me things that rhyme with Hat Sass and Plucking Witch and I call him things that rhyme with Clucking Chick and Cupid Masspole. I have a pile of different wedding looking rings I get from Avon so when I am mad I can take them off and throw them at him. I told you before, we have that El Cantante love. I say I hate him, he says he hates me but the next day we are sitting on the couch hand in hand watching Jeopardy. We are not perfect and I doubt that we ever will be, but what we have works for us, for the moment or for however long. So here's to another milestone anniversary. maybe if I am lucky I will still be writing this blog so that there will at least be a record of what I did on anniversary number 15. Farewell Fairytale and go to hell Cinderella...I'm cuter than you anyways!
Monday, September 6, 2010
Fight For Your Right To Be Crazy
Okay, so I am a little Latina with a hot temper. I don't mean to have a temper ,but sometimes I can't help it, plus, sometimes people are so frickin dumb that it makes me crazy. If it is someone having to do with a bill and there is a telephone conversation going on, I usually have to throw the phone at the husband and tell him to talk to them because they are pissing me off so much. All that have TW cable can attest to this. If it is someone in person, I usually have to walk away while mumbling how stupid people are.
So today I went ovee to Coldstone to redeem a five dollar gift certificate I had. When we walked in it was awkward. Ok people I am half White and half Mexican. I have no problem with what I am and I love me. The thing is that sometimes in certain environments I feel as if people think that this lucky Mexican servant got the day off and shouldn't be where they are. So today as I walked into Coldstone, that is how it was. The looks on everyone's faces was..."OMG, don't these Mexicans know that they do not belong in THIS coldstone".
So while checking out the menu, there was this really wonderful, creamy looking smoothie ice cream thingy...and I wanted it. My son only wanted a scoop of vanilla ice cream which is his favorite. Ok, so this should be easy...shouldn't it? Right after I ordered it I knew I was going to be sorry. The guy behind the counter took out a binder and started slowly reading directions of how to make what I wanted. Right away my son picked up on it. He knew that Mom was about to go Latina crazy. There I was watching this guy read the directions and put in every ingredient that had nothing to do with ice cream and hellooooo wasn't this Coldstone?
My son started laughing and said...."Mom, don't do it ". Now I am sorry but the picture looked creamy and blueberryliscious, but what he was blending in his little blender looked more like he cut up beets and blended. Finally when he brought this supposed smoothie over that was so dark purple it was almost black I said...Um, I'm sorry but the picture looks like there is ice cream in it"..."Nope we don't make the smoothies with ice cream". What the hell? If I wanted a smoothie that had nothing to do with Coldstone ice cream and the only ingredients were those that a binder said how to make, well then, I would have gone to a farm I guess. My son stood there with a smile on his face. "Do you still want it? I could have been nice and drank it so I would blend in and be normal, but then ..."Um, no, it looks nothing like the picture, sorry".
We walked out and my son laughed. "They are probably talking about the Mexicans right now Mom". I smiled. I'm sorry, there are just some times when your crazy comes out and you can't help it. If you find this happens to you, like I do (and quite often), don't be ashamed..stand up for your right to be crazy!
So today I went ovee to Coldstone to redeem a five dollar gift certificate I had. When we walked in it was awkward. Ok people I am half White and half Mexican. I have no problem with what I am and I love me. The thing is that sometimes in certain environments I feel as if people think that this lucky Mexican servant got the day off and shouldn't be where they are. So today as I walked into Coldstone, that is how it was. The looks on everyone's faces was..."OMG, don't these Mexicans know that they do not belong in THIS coldstone".
So while checking out the menu, there was this really wonderful, creamy looking smoothie ice cream thingy...and I wanted it. My son only wanted a scoop of vanilla ice cream which is his favorite. Ok, so this should be easy...shouldn't it? Right after I ordered it I knew I was going to be sorry. The guy behind the counter took out a binder and started slowly reading directions of how to make what I wanted. Right away my son picked up on it. He knew that Mom was about to go Latina crazy. There I was watching this guy read the directions and put in every ingredient that had nothing to do with ice cream and hellooooo wasn't this Coldstone?
My son started laughing and said...."Mom, don't do it ". Now I am sorry but the picture looked creamy and blueberryliscious, but what he was blending in his little blender looked more like he cut up beets and blended. Finally when he brought this supposed smoothie over that was so dark purple it was almost black I said...Um, I'm sorry but the picture looks like there is ice cream in it"..."Nope we don't make the smoothies with ice cream". What the hell? If I wanted a smoothie that had nothing to do with Coldstone ice cream and the only ingredients were those that a binder said how to make, well then, I would have gone to a farm I guess. My son stood there with a smile on his face. "Do you still want it? I could have been nice and drank it so I would blend in and be normal, but then ..."Um, no, it looks nothing like the picture, sorry".
We walked out and my son laughed. "They are probably talking about the Mexicans right now Mom". I smiled. I'm sorry, there are just some times when your crazy comes out and you can't help it. If you find this happens to you, like I do (and quite often), don't be ashamed..stand up for your right to be crazy!
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Stolen Identities
For those of you who do not know me well, the one they call my other half is a Writer. He writes for a local newspaper and reports on sports and entertainment. One of the perks of this job of his is getting into stuff for free. As I say that it makes me smile and remember something he once said to me a while back..."Did you ever think you would marry someone who would get you into things for free?"....and my response..."Um, no, I thought I would marry someone who would be able to afford to buy my way in". It was a clever comeback and anyone who likes me more than him totally would hi-five me for that one!
So yesterday a month long local event began. An event that He always gets tickets to. It was the first day and we thought we would venture there and brave the heat with our daughter...what were we thinking? So upon arriving we go to will-call to pick up his passes. They looked at their little important clipboard and said..."Sorry, you need to go to the administration building". We happily walked over knowing that the passes would be there, or so we thought. "Did you go to will call?"...Uh yeah and they sent us over here, cmon people. Upon trying to get to the bottom of where in the heck these passes were I had to deal with my daughter and her sometimes big mouth. It's like she is a little mini me that knows what I am usually thinking and says it out loud. "These people need to get their stuff straight"! Oh by the way did I mention the fact that there was also some crazy guy in between all this telling my daughter he liked her necklace and asking her where she got it and how much she would sell it for. Now, I knew he was crazy and I tried nicely just to smile and then crazy mini me turns around and says...."Stalkerrrrrrrr".
So being the frustrated wife and mother that I am I leave the office go back to will call and explain the situation. "Look, you guys are supposed to have my husband's passes, his name is blankity blank and he writes for blankity blank newspaper. The little old couple in the booth look again at their clipboard and say..."Oh yes, you picked them up already and signed for them as well". I took a look at her little clipboard and sure enough there was my husband's name and right underneath a signature of someone who signed for them. I was pissed. "That is not my husband's signature and not to mention it is opening day and we drove here from Colton so we did not make two trips" I marched myself back to the office and explained the situation to my husband and to the people in administration when the little man from the booth came in and apologized. It was in fact opening day afterall and there is a lot of chaos so things like this do happen.
After all of the drama we got into the event for free and even got ourselves free VIP parking. It turns out it was way too hot and crowded, but...it was free. I thought a lot about the term stolen identity. It really bothered him that someone used his name to get something that was promised to him and his name.
If you are married like me, we all in essence have a stolen identity. Yes, we are in love with our spouse and us ladies usually take his last name, some hyphenate. But in any marriage or really any intimate relationship, our identities become lost. We are like geckos who change to adapt to the atmosphere around us in order to make our significant other happy and to please them. I have been with my husband for 17 years and only recently have I started to yearn for who I used to be, my lost identity. I have forgotten who I was before he came along. I was fun, loved life and had the dream of being a writer in so many ways.
For so long I have been there for him and our kids that I forgot what it was like to be me. This year is as if someone woke me up and told me..."Hey I remember you, come back, come back". I have become more bold, tried to have fun again, started going back to church and found my love of writing. I don't want to lose myself anymore. I am moving forward, even though it may be at a slower pace. So the moral of my story... Don't let your identity be lost or stolen, life is a better place with the real you in it.
So yesterday a month long local event began. An event that He always gets tickets to. It was the first day and we thought we would venture there and brave the heat with our daughter...what were we thinking? So upon arriving we go to will-call to pick up his passes. They looked at their little important clipboard and said..."Sorry, you need to go to the administration building". We happily walked over knowing that the passes would be there, or so we thought. "Did you go to will call?"...Uh yeah and they sent us over here, cmon people. Upon trying to get to the bottom of where in the heck these passes were I had to deal with my daughter and her sometimes big mouth. It's like she is a little mini me that knows what I am usually thinking and says it out loud. "These people need to get their stuff straight"! Oh by the way did I mention the fact that there was also some crazy guy in between all this telling my daughter he liked her necklace and asking her where she got it and how much she would sell it for. Now, I knew he was crazy and I tried nicely just to smile and then crazy mini me turns around and says...."Stalkerrrrrrrr".
So being the frustrated wife and mother that I am I leave the office go back to will call and explain the situation. "Look, you guys are supposed to have my husband's passes, his name is blankity blank and he writes for blankity blank newspaper. The little old couple in the booth look again at their clipboard and say..."Oh yes, you picked them up already and signed for them as well". I took a look at her little clipboard and sure enough there was my husband's name and right underneath a signature of someone who signed for them. I was pissed. "That is not my husband's signature and not to mention it is opening day and we drove here from Colton so we did not make two trips" I marched myself back to the office and explained the situation to my husband and to the people in administration when the little man from the booth came in and apologized. It was in fact opening day afterall and there is a lot of chaos so things like this do happen.
After all of the drama we got into the event for free and even got ourselves free VIP parking. It turns out it was way too hot and crowded, but...it was free. I thought a lot about the term stolen identity. It really bothered him that someone used his name to get something that was promised to him and his name.
If you are married like me, we all in essence have a stolen identity. Yes, we are in love with our spouse and us ladies usually take his last name, some hyphenate. But in any marriage or really any intimate relationship, our identities become lost. We are like geckos who change to adapt to the atmosphere around us in order to make our significant other happy and to please them. I have been with my husband for 17 years and only recently have I started to yearn for who I used to be, my lost identity. I have forgotten who I was before he came along. I was fun, loved life and had the dream of being a writer in so many ways.
For so long I have been there for him and our kids that I forgot what it was like to be me. This year is as if someone woke me up and told me..."Hey I remember you, come back, come back". I have become more bold, tried to have fun again, started going back to church and found my love of writing. I don't want to lose myself anymore. I am moving forward, even though it may be at a slower pace. So the moral of my story... Don't let your identity be lost or stolen, life is a better place with the real you in it.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Long Weekend Crazy
It's early in the morning and my back is sore
It was my turn last night to sleep on the floor
One more day that's left to work
Then comes a long weekend with the kids and a jerk
Labor day, the official end of summer
Nothing to do, wow, that's a bummer
The kids will be up in a half an hour
starting their day with a morning shower
The fighting will start, I'll play referee
Wishing for some time for me
He and I are not getting along
different day, same old song
Kind of depressing, no big plans
Maybe I'll ride on somethingtrans
I'd shop if I could but payday's next week
Oh long weekend, you're looking bleak
Maybe I'll drive to Riverside and visit with my Dad
I'll cry upon his grave and then I will be sad
How will you spend the long weekend? I know how I'll spend mine
I'm going to Boone's Farms and Sutter Home for some wine
It was my turn last night to sleep on the floor
One more day that's left to work
Then comes a long weekend with the kids and a jerk
Labor day, the official end of summer
Nothing to do, wow, that's a bummer
The kids will be up in a half an hour
starting their day with a morning shower
The fighting will start, I'll play referee
Wishing for some time for me
He and I are not getting along
different day, same old song
Kind of depressing, no big plans
Maybe I'll ride on somethingtrans
I'd shop if I could but payday's next week
Oh long weekend, you're looking bleak
Maybe I'll drive to Riverside and visit with my Dad
I'll cry upon his grave and then I will be sad
How will you spend the long weekend? I know how I'll spend mine
I'm going to Boone's Farms and Sutter Home for some wine
Thursday, September 2, 2010
I'm Crazy Because Of Them
Do you remember the phrase..."Can't we all just get along"? I swear that this phrase was meant for my family. It seems as though when crazy planetary things happen and He and I are getting along fairly well, the kids have to have their turn at being crazy. Sometimes this happens to me in the morning before school and work even begin. Mostly though, it happens between the hours of about 3 and 5 pm...with my kids and him. Nevermind that I am at work, I am always called upon to be a referee through the phone lines while trying to do this in a near whisper so as not to get fired!
This week was hectic and busy and my body and mind were taken over by laziness. After hectic doctor appointments a crazy week at work, start of soccer season, corresponding with teachers to make sure my kids have not failed their classes a month in I will just say...I am effin tired! It is not my dream in life to come home and try to straighten up an argument much less do it on the phone before work even finishes. For families like mine, I can totally see how people become alcoholics or have affairs...don't worry marriage and non alcohol advocates, I am normal.
So I sit at my desk and my cell phone rings and it's my son telling me all the reasons his all kinds of crazy is his dad. On and on about what he is saying, how he is acting, how my son has witnesses that my husband said this or that-nevermind the fact that his witnesses are teenagers who hate their parents too. While this is going on my desk phone starts ringing and then I can see it's the husband. I hang up with my son or hang up on him depending of how he is now talking to me. Right off the bat, there is yelling in my ear and I hear these words..."YOUR SON". Isn't it funny how when everyone is happy they are our kids but the first sign of trouble those wonderful children of ours become legally and only the other person's...I love that! On and on about how my son is disrespectful, doesn't listen, talks back and then somewhere in there I get blamed for something. Did you know that like us women, men also keep files in their heads on us to save for a time they can throw it in our face, yeah they do and they love to use them. His file cabinet must be bursting at the seams.
Usually I am so frustrated with both parties that after hanging up on both of them I send the family a text saying something like..."I'm not coming home tonight, have fun killing each other". Hopefully when these kinds of arguments happen it falls on a payday because then I can go shopping after work. I will stay away for at least an hour, sometimes more. I may get a few pissed off people text messages or it may be the kid who is actually behaving that day asking me where I am and can I bring home some food. After the maximum of two hours absence, I stop by a cheap pizza place, get a $5 pizza and show up wondering what crime scene I will have to clean up.
What is it that I see? A clean house, kids in their rooms behaving, the husband watching the Law and Order marathon and I am happy. Then like a Mack truck hitting me head on I get sarcasm from both kids, I took too long, accused by him of cheating for the last hour with my non existent sancho and I realize they aren't mad at each other anymore, but now they're mad at me. Oh family...Tis you who makes me crazy!
This week was hectic and busy and my body and mind were taken over by laziness. After hectic doctor appointments a crazy week at work, start of soccer season, corresponding with teachers to make sure my kids have not failed their classes a month in I will just say...I am effin tired! It is not my dream in life to come home and try to straighten up an argument much less do it on the phone before work even finishes. For families like mine, I can totally see how people become alcoholics or have affairs...don't worry marriage and non alcohol advocates, I am normal.
So I sit at my desk and my cell phone rings and it's my son telling me all the reasons his all kinds of crazy is his dad. On and on about what he is saying, how he is acting, how my son has witnesses that my husband said this or that-nevermind the fact that his witnesses are teenagers who hate their parents too. While this is going on my desk phone starts ringing and then I can see it's the husband. I hang up with my son or hang up on him depending of how he is now talking to me. Right off the bat, there is yelling in my ear and I hear these words..."YOUR SON". Isn't it funny how when everyone is happy they are our kids but the first sign of trouble those wonderful children of ours become legally and only the other person's...I love that! On and on about how my son is disrespectful, doesn't listen, talks back and then somewhere in there I get blamed for something. Did you know that like us women, men also keep files in their heads on us to save for a time they can throw it in our face, yeah they do and they love to use them. His file cabinet must be bursting at the seams.
Usually I am so frustrated with both parties that after hanging up on both of them I send the family a text saying something like..."I'm not coming home tonight, have fun killing each other". Hopefully when these kinds of arguments happen it falls on a payday because then I can go shopping after work. I will stay away for at least an hour, sometimes more. I may get a few pissed off people text messages or it may be the kid who is actually behaving that day asking me where I am and can I bring home some food. After the maximum of two hours absence, I stop by a cheap pizza place, get a $5 pizza and show up wondering what crime scene I will have to clean up.
What is it that I see? A clean house, kids in their rooms behaving, the husband watching the Law and Order marathon and I am happy. Then like a Mack truck hitting me head on I get sarcasm from both kids, I took too long, accused by him of cheating for the last hour with my non existent sancho and I realize they aren't mad at each other anymore, but now they're mad at me. Oh family...Tis you who makes me crazy!
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