A Little Humor Goes A Long Way

When the phone rang at 10:00 p.m. all I could do was wonder why my mother was calling me this late. What could possible be wrong now? Let's start at a point closer to the beginning shall we? Yesterday was an all around shit-tastic day. I'd been trying to pass a kidney stone since the night before. My son is being a heathen. I've spent a lot of the day on the phone fighting with the water company who has been billing me for the apartment next door and vice versa for the better part of a year. So far they want me to take the loss for the six months of paying for a family of 5, (two of which I didn't even live here yet), but they want me to pay the difference for what the new neighbor, (family of one), has paid over on mine. My bill went up $100, plus they want some insane amount on top of that for the last 4 months...by the 20th. We can no longer afford to live, and there is nowhere for us to move. And to ice that cake, the wind blew the back door shut at the precise moment Mike's hand was there. So now there is the possibility that he's broken a finger on his good hand. Great. So when my normally good kidney started acting up, I was not surprised. Now the phone rings and all I can think is, "Whose dead?"
I brace myself and pick up. I am greeted with peals of laughter and tears from my mother. She explains that she had to call me, she was sure I would appreciate this one. Kayellen is the daughter of one of our close family friends, she is also in her terrible twos. The story goes as follows:
Becky was on the phone with her mother when she noticed Kayellen was awfully quiet and she better investigate. There is an "Oh no!" followed by "I'll call you back". Naturally Grandma gets worried and calls back. Apparently little miss monkey climbed to the very top shelf in the bathroom and found her mommy's tan in a can. By the time Becky found her, she was brown from the neck up. Now this is even funnier because she did the same thing with a tube of butt paste 3 days ago. That time my mom was lucky enough to get a picture, which I will share with you, to help you get a visual.
Thanks Mom, I needed that.

Ugh

I am sorry that it is taking me so long to post blogs as my child has turned into a wretched little monster. If you're wondering, he's about to turn two in August. So if you have children then you know that "wretched little monster" is not an exaggeration. Does this really last until he turns three? I sure hope not, I would like to keep what's left of my hair.

6 Things

This one is a writing prompt called memories where you write a small paragraph about each of
6 scenarios...



1. it is elementary school recess...

I am in 4th grade, but my best friend is in fifth. I spend the first five minutes trying to escape Stacy, and the next trying to locate A. Finally I spend the last five minutes trying to explain to her Stacy's latest plot to prove to her why she shouldn't be my friend. We laugh, and the bell rings.


2. it is summer vacation and you are 15...

I spend a lot of time alone. There are many secret meetings between us. Hushed conversations about the future together that will never be. Waiting, watching, praying. A few times I try to get him to go for a ride in my "cool car", you know to get his mind off things. We hatch a plot, that enables me to keep a part of him forever, but the chemo had other plans.

3. it is the high school football homecoming game...

I am stranded in the band section, sweltering in this horrid uniform. Thank God we only have to wear the tampon hats for half time. Josh Bluett walks by and jokes with his buddy about the dog in the band section in heat just waiting for him... he has the audacity to point. Looks like nobody else heard him, but me. I cried all the way home.


4. it is the last summer before college...

I am terrified. I spend my day working for the Police Activities League at the swimming pool, and worrying about the future all by myself. Alicia, (the girl who worked with me) hasn't slept in 3 days. It's a hundred degrees and her body finally gives out. She has overdosed, but I don't know that until the next day when I show up to work. I spend the rest of the summer just me and the lifeguards.


5. it is a night at home with the family...

I get the giggling wriggle worm out of the toy filled tub. Wrap him in his little hoody towel, stop in front of the mirror to make faces and head out of the bathroom. Although I have everything I could possibly need to get him ready for bed, it's still an adventure. He escapes the second his feet touch the ground. My child hates diapers...or at least the putting on of a new one. His daddy tries to gently direct him back to me before giving up and scooping him my way. We spend the next 20 minutes trying to lotion, powder, diaper and get him in pajamas. He runs around like a chicken with it's head cut off, using his father for a jungle gym, and creating more mess than I think 7 of him should be able to produce. I catch him, we read a few bedtime books, and then it's time for prayers and bed.

6. it is a road trip with friends...

The last time I went on a road trip with friends I was 18 years old.

June 6, 2008

The other night I was on the phone with one of my good friends when she said something about being a grain of sand in a barrel of shit. To this I replied I'd rather be a grain of sand in a barrel of other sand. To this she said "You probably haven't been sand in other sand since you were seven". The funny thing is that the statement seemed to hit me like this great realization. Now I have known that I have had more than my fair share of struggle, but I guess while I've always known it, I hadn't really thought about it that much. So of course in my strange brain this triggered a "why haven't you been thinking about it"? I proceed to over think it, a lot. I search my brain for a time in my oldest memories for a time there wasn't fighting of some kind. And then after a few hours of tossing and turning, it actually did hit me like a ton of bricks, I don't have any childhood memories that don't involve fights. Leading me right into questioning who I must have been in a past life, for surely I must have been a heathen. Another friend of mind mused about this the other day and thought I must have been Elizabeth Báthory,(virgin blood bather). Now I don't know that there even is a such thing as a past life, but it would definitely make me feel better sometimes. *smile*

06-04-08

In twenty eight years I have yet to find a way to effectively remove pain from the hearts of others. I am beginning to think that it is my destiny to meet new people with old ailments, and help them on their way. Which in itself is strange to me because I really have nothing but myself to give anymore. I've hawked everything I own save for my C.D. case, and that's only because I threw out their individual cases and you can't really sell loose C.D.s can you? Although at this point I'd sell the whole damn case. I've given everything I have to help anyone I can. Now I have nothing but love, and to my surprise there are many people who need it.
God, how my heart is aching right now, I can't breathe, this time it seems like it's too much. I feel like I can't watch you hurt like this. I know it's going to be okay, and I know I didn't really have a blood vessel burst in my frontal lobe last night. But God help me, just a little part of me would have been okay with that.
At 3:30 a.m. sitting on the bathroom floor, crying and vomiting and clutching a cellular phone. Begging God that I may not be about to bury another. Simultaneously writhing inside over your newly voiced fears. Sick with anticipation over what today's doctors appointment would bring. While desperately willing a teleport to appear in my tiny bathroom. Spinning into a panic attack. And finally the phone rings, and a tired voice says she is okay but going to try to sleep. Nothing to do but wait until the morning and pray.
Hit the start button and go right back to what was making me ill before the phone rang. My son sleeping in the next room. And one tiny wisp of hope, because no matter what happens, he'll be taken care of. And he doesn't know that his mommy and daddy are scared, and that's the way it should be.

12 words

My friend posted this prompt on her blog today. Here's my thoughts on it. You can do it too!

Below is a list of 12 words. Write 1 paragraph about what you think of (in your life) when you hear that word.


1. Home
I wish I had something profound and sentimental to say here but I do not. I am still trying to find "home". The truth is we moved around more than a few times before my parents bought the house in CrowsLanding. I suppose if home were a feeling, then home would be wherever I could run to my mother. If home were an object, it would be the felled telephone poll in the alley behind my parents house. Where Robert bribed me with random things like a box of cereal, or some other thing that 10 year old boys thing is barter worthy, in exchange for me doing his homework. If home is the place where your roots are, then I haven't one yet, because I am definitely not staying here. *smile*. At this time in my life, home is a dream. Home is where I will feel safe raising my son, and growing my vegetables, and hopefully on a big enough patch of dirt that my loved ones can have a house if they'd like.


2. Family
I don't have 3rd, 4th, or whatever removed family. To me all my cousins are my cousins, no matter how far down the line. I have a thousand aunts or uncles that have married into the family and countless "step" relatives. And before you say anything, I have spent Christmas with every single one of them at one time or another. That being said, I love them all the same. The blood in their veins isn't important to me. Sadly, I have a few aunts that don't feel that way. And because I choose to love everyone, they choose not to talk to me. That's fine I guess. But to me it's not so black and white. I don't have any biological sisters, but I have a friend or two that I think are probably just as good, if not better than the real thing.

3. Marriage
The scariest fucking thing on the planet. Will I really love someone until I die? Stupid question. Of course I have the capacity to do that. The one that really gets me, is whether someone could love me that long.

4. Sex
Sex is a trixy little hobit. Does he like this? Do I like this? Is he bored? Why can't he figure out that that bugs the shit out of me? Why are we on totally different libido clocks? No, not all girls dig cuddling! And why are some people so weirded out when others breach the subject? Is there some secret boy rule stating 2 years into the relationship is when it's okay to make "suggestions"? Don't get me wrong I'm not saying I've had a bunch of 2 year relationships gone weird. Just the general consensus among my friends.


5. Friends
When I was a child, my friends father told me that I would eventually count all my friends on one hand. He was half right, at this juncture in my life I can count my closest friends comfortably on one hand. I have many many people in my life that I am here for on all accounts, but I have only a select few that would do the same for me. None the less, friends are better than family because you get to pick them. A friend stays on the phone way to late with you in an endless conversation that started off about pop tarts, veered passed andiron chairs, and finally finished off on how fast a midget runs through the jungle before you part on your insomniac ways. Friends help each other, they listen when you need them, and they come to you when they need listening.


6. God
I read somewhere about a professor who said there was no God based on the fact that there was such evil in the world. One student stood up and replied that there really is no evil, just an absence of God. It makes sense. Think about it, we cannot measure cold, only heat. There is an absolute zero, the complete absence of heat. However it can always get hotter. There is no dark, that is just what we call it when there is an absence of light. Thus there is no evil, just the absence of God in the hearts of men.


7. Color
The scariest word in the English language. The reason I can't sleep at night. And although my skin is not dark by any means. It is dark enough to garner sideways glances when I go to the post office. The reason I want to home school my child. The reason my friends are my friends, because they don't see it. The reason I seem to be unable to produce an adequate sentence here.

8. Frustration
Watching a loved on hurt, and being able to do nothing about it. Wanting to save the world, but not knowing where to start. Feeling like my hands are tied, when they are really pulling out my hair.

9. Happiness
I saw my friend Von today on my way home from the post office. He was getting dropped off by the same medical cab company that I used to use. He was smiling and I asked him how he was. He said it was a little easier to swallow these days. I smiled and said I would make him cupcakes. And I did, but when I went back to his apartment to take them to him there was no answer. It's probably because he was sleeping, it was 6:45. Von has cancer, and everyday he takes a cab to get radiation treatment in his neck. And even though he's done it every day for a month, and won't be done until the 16th, he was offering a smile. He was just satisfied with being here, and he was not bitter. And although I am sad for myself to watch another ail, I am glad to have had him befriend me, I am better for it.

10. Silence
The absence of sound. I am not sure I have experienced it really. I've been where there was no noise, but I find these are the times when my thoughts are the loudest. I hate when it's quiet, gives people reason to question said thoughts. And although they are screaming in my head sometimes, I don't want them voiced. And I want to cram my hand down my throat to keep from doing so because for the most part silence is what follows when somebody in the room does or says something offensive.

11. Noise
For me the word noise is like the word home to other people. This is the first place I've stayed for more than 6 months in a very long time. And although my parents have lived in the same house since I was 10 now, nothing is guaranteed to stay the same. A lot of my family are opting to move around these days, and at first I was sad. I used to think my grandmother's house was "home", my aunt just lost that house. I was sad, but I realized that I had no intention of going in that house again. My grandmother was dead, and my aunt was holed up in one room letting her 6 or so dogs overrun the place. But it wasn't the building that I loved, because there were good memories and bad. What I loved was the sound of my family members together and being joyous. When I go home to visit my parents I love it because the whole time I am there, there is a dull roar. As family members, and friends, and family members' friends, and friends' family members, *smile*, mill in and out. My dad's t.v. is always on WAY too loud, the chihuahua is spinning in circles and yapping like a lunatic. But that is just the way I like it. At the risk of sounding cliche, I love life and hearing it all around me. I'd be sad if I lost my sight, but I'd be devastated if I could never hear my son sing again.

12. End
There isn't one. Just moving on to the next level. When the book gets to heavy end it, but start a new one. When my mortal life ends, I'm sure what I think is my spiritual life now, will only be beginning. When Robert died it was the beginning of my life without him. But when the hardest time of my life ended, (pregnancy), my life as a mother began. Our life is a series of never ending beginnings if you look at it the right way.

Well there it is, my humble attempt at it! Hope you enjoyed.

Blind Sided

After a fulfilling evening of conversation with a good friend last night, I decide to settle down with a puzzle book for a few minutes before I go to sleep. It was a good conversation, one that ended with a chat about the rumors she and I had heard about ourselves and each other over the last ten years. And although some of the things people said were strange/harsh sometimes, by the end we were both laughing and it was way too early to hang up, but we both have babies now and have to rise early. So there I was giggling to myself about how "cool" we really must have been (unbeknown to us), in high school for these people to find time in their day to spread rumors about us ten plus years later. But I digress. As I said I was sitting in my room when my fiancé walks in and wants to talk. I have to say that in the time we have cohabitated we have had exactly one heart to heart, the day I got off the plane.
A little background. Almost five years ago he was the best pressman at his company and they got a new machine. Well the machine was new to them at least. It was actually a 1950's paper press that no one in the company knew how to run, had no safety guards on it, and the company was too cheap to pay somebody to teach them. So what is the best course of action? They put their best guy on it because, "he can figure it out". The machine sucked his dominant hand into it, the only one there to help, turned the lever the wrong way in a panic to get him out, crushing his hand further. They got him out his right hand was degloved on 2 fingers and his thumb was ripped off. As he lay on the floor waiting for the ambulance, his bosses stood over him and asked when they could get this machine up and running again. Thus started what seems like a very long and drawn out, uphill battle. Here we are years and countless surgeries later, and he can hold his now almost 2 year old son for no more than 5 minutes at a time without pain.
Of course we have had trouble getting along cooped up all together all the time, and people don't understand why I don't leave him alone for any extended period of time. And for a while I have been wondering myself. He has been rude, and snappish, and anything else you can do while dealing with the loss of a body part. But he's never acknowledged it. Last night after I hung up, he came in my room and sat and apologized for every single offense in the tenure of our relationship thus far. And followed it with news of what I already knew about his lawyer being less than up to the task. He continued to spill his heart about his fears about what is coming for our family, about school, and money, and being snappy, and how scared he his. And then with a tear in his eye he asked me to open his bottle of water. He finally opened up, even if 3 years of apology is a little hard to swallow at once, he helped me gain a little hope in people last night, and even in myself. Because in a simple 30 minute monologue like apology I was able to forgive without a second thought, and because he let me in. So now I know, I put up with the mean because I knew that someday my prayers would be answered and he would see that maybe, just maybe, I was worth fighting for.