Overwhelmed with Possibility

At the risk of sounding like a complete over-indulged whiny-ass Princess I am at the precipice of EMPLOYMENT. I am in the precarious position of needing to be employed by some sort of establishment that pays regularly and even takes taxes out so I don’t have to think about it. I’m upset. Not because this has happened. I knew it would. Freelancing just isn’t paying enough right now.


Physically, there are few things I can do for hours on end. Thank you, Fibromyalgia. Mentally, can I handle a regular day-to-day engagement? I don’t know. Honestly. Without going into my nervous breakdown and hospitalization three years ago, I can probably manage for a while. Right now, that’s all I need.

So…why am I so freaking scared?

I’m afraid of letting people down. I’m afraid of getting back into a place in my head where I’m so overwhelmed I start losing my grip on sanity. Right now, I’m so…worried? that I barely leave the house.


Also? I know everyone else in the world does this without thinking. (That puts more pressure on me.) In my case, I’m already broken and…cautious. I already know how it feels to fail, to face consequences…even if they have nothing to do with me. The awful thing about being in the world is that other people’s decisions affect your life. I am still unwilling to do that. I’ve barracaded myself in my apartment with the man I’ve decided to let into my world, and our baby. Everyone else is potentially hazardous to me.

A job.

I’m going to cry. And then…I’ll attempt to handle this. I am a grown up.

I am so freaked out.


Simmering Sunday (long, sorry)

I love weekends. My guy doesn’t work weekends so I get to spend time with him and catch up on household business, our wants and needs as a family, he gets to spend more time with Abigail (who just soaks up the attention) and after she goes to bed I get to hang out with the guy I love and miss all week.

Today, I slept in (ok, mostly cause I was up til 4am. By contrast, my guy went to “take a nap” about 7pm last night and woke up about 3:45 this morning). This is another nice thing about weekends. My guy can nap if he wants (he works like crazy all week) and I can sleep in or sleep through the night because he’s willing to wake up with Abigail if she wakes. Weekends are recharging. My guy still needs to work on that somehow because he’s also superintendent for all the buildings our landlord owns (4) so for some of this weekend and most of last weekend he was also working and not so much relaxing.

We also had an agreement: since he’s the cook in the family (AND he loves it) and I am cooking by default during the week because he’s working, he cooks on the weekends. I *heart* this. First, because, yes I don’t have to do it, but second because…he’s AMAZING. I mean I can throw stuff together and make it edible and even tasty. But what he does…he’s an artist.

Today he and the baby got dressed and said, “Bye Mommy! We’ll see you later.” For half a second I wish they’d asked me if I wanted to go do whatever they’re doing, but then I smile because I know he’s trying to get in some one-on-one time that I get so much of. Abigail is growing and learning so quickly that every couple of days she’s almost like a whole different person. I don’t begrudge him any time with her that he wants. She needs her daddy and loves him to death and he purely adores her. They have a relationship they both need.

So they waved goodbye and I took a much needed bath. The world around me looks much better when I am clean. Also, I had a new body wash I wanted to try. 🙂 After that I put on clean clothes (shorts and a lace trimmed camisole) and sat on the balcony sunbathing. Nothing like comfortable breezes, ice cold Pepsi (diet be damned!) and a Jen Lancaster to read while just BEING. No worries, no pressing needs…just the sun, the breeze and my book. (WIN!)

When they come home they join me on the balcony to tell me about their adventure. They went to the water and the grocery store. He’s already thinking of me and dinner. Often those two are inseparable. He lets me know he loves me by cooking something great I love or in this case, I mentioned the other day I’d love a steak. (Haven’t had one of those in ages!) So, he got steak, veggies, mushrooms and fresh wheat rolls. I can’t wait for dinnertime. 🙂

I laid Abby down for a nap (she’s usually awake an hour or two before she naps…it’s been 3.5) and she went right to sleep. My guy is now doing laundry (I do little stuff during the week…we hand wash everything). I have fibromyalgia so I can’t lift heavy wet stuff and one of my wrists just doesn’t twist (so I can’t wring big things out very well). So he washes the big/heavy things during the week and on weekends. We both wash dishes, feed Abby etc over the weekend. During the week the dishes are all me. Bleh.

Anyway, he’s catching up right now and I’m writing. After having a bath and sunbathing this just feels very very…vacation-y. I like! Hopefully he’ll take some time to just sit down later. (He was sitting this morning. He watched a movie.) I don’t like feeling like he’s running around all the time and gets no “off” time before heading back to work on Mondays. :/ He doesn’t either. But he’s not the kind of person to wake up in the morning and lay around. He needs a bit more of that in his system and less of “I have to…” “I need to…” “I’m going to…” I even tried to get him to try to do what needs to be done on Friday or Friday and part of Saturday, that way he’d have Sunday, but that didn’t work.

I feel like crap cause he’s doing laundry. I feel like crap cause he lets me sleep (although, he loves to be with Abby and she him and I obviously need sleep or I wouldn’t be capable of sleeping 14 hours at a time).

Okay. He needs to SIT DOWN and I need to STOP FEELING GUILTY for letting him be close enough to take care of me.

And, I don’t think I mentioned this in previous blogs (!!!), but on May 17, Abigail became a walker. She turned 11 months old yesterday.

NOW we’re in trouble!

The Universe Had Its Say

Generally speaking I don’t believe in signs. …Well, I believe in traffic signs… *shakes head* You know what I mean! I don’t think the Universe is sending us messages that will help our lives if we’d only pay heed. Life is pretty much what you make it, and even if you make the best decisions possible you’re living with other people on the planet, some of whom do NOT make the best decisions possible. Translation? You may be great, smart, and a wonderful human being, but you live on a planet with douche canoes, imbeciles and asshats who also make decisions that may somehow affect your life (and ruin it).

I will admit to living thinking I would just choose the lesser of two evils cause it was the best I could do.

But then someone pointed out that the lesser of two evils is still evil.


And life goes on. I live, things happen, I try to deal, and it’s another day done. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Then I see movies.

Damn damn damn

In these movies there is a sweet, lovable, strong and amazing character who happens to believe wholeheartedly that the Universe is sending signs and if she looks for them, recognizes them and heeds them her life is wonderful. And in the movies, it usually is. Of course, the movie is two hours long and even I could probably make my life look good for two hours.

But still, it makes me think (and I harbor secret desires of being smart, lovable and charming). So I decide to try watching the signs for a while to see what happens.

Dawn of a new day

I wake up after not getting enough sleep, play with the baby and do our normal morning stuff. Then, baby gets sleepy and actually just lays down for her nap. No second-thoughts. I get a tweet from someone who said she’s on vacation, hell with it: she’s going to go back to bed and sleep in for a change. It’s VACATION! Also rattling around in the back of my head is the parenting advice that spared me some sanity: “sleep when the baby sleeps”. I take this as Universal Sign #1. I go back to bed for a nap. I actually fall asleep. (Usually I can’t sleep during the day unless I’m hopped up on Benadryl for breathing purposes.) I smile myself to sleep thanking the Universe for the small break…

…and wake up screaming and crying two hours later because I’ve just had the most awfully horrific bad dream of my life. This was yesterday and I STILL can’t get it out of my head. (My guy calls at lunch to check on me and I cry and just miss him more.)

Damn Universe.

Today I wake up and find a note and a flower on the computer. It appears the Universe has righted itself, the planets are aligned and all is well in the world. I relax.

Then I sign into Facebook, catch up with my peeps (rofl…just misspelled that POOPS. hee hee hee) and play Farmville. Immediately I get a pop up that says they now have Tuscan decorations. (Side note: I am a SUCKER for anything Tuscan.) So I click myself into the marketplace. The lovely Tuscan home they have available for purchase is called a “fattoria”.

Did Farmville just call me fat?

I’ve been stressing about my weight lately. It increased over the winter and doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere. It’s never more than half a thought away. I’m obsessed. And now the house Farmville wants to sell me to live in is a FATTORIA????







ROFL. Okay, first, I am better. I WAS SICK. Why is it men need to think SICK = PREGNANT? Is it a macho thing? “Ooh…look. I knocked her up. I am man, hear me roar!” ???? Sheesh. And for those wondering, I will not be having any more children. I had my tubes removed during the search and rescue operation for Abby. I’m not pregnant.

Despite being incredibly dizzy (seriously dizzy)…as in so dizzy I grabbed my guy’s head in bed last night so I wouldn’t spin off into the cosmos dizzy. I was just trying to hold on til it was over. He said “Ow…” lol. Eventually I let go and apologized.

What was I saying? Oh yes, despite the dizzies, I am declaring myself better. Better-ish. I was feeling a little bleh today, but I think it’s because my guy isn’t here and my heart is sick without him. (aaawwwwwww) I’m not REALLY sick. Just in love.

Today is Monday which means it’s time to be good to myself. Today that means I will take a bath! WOOT! (hard to squeeze in sometimes with Abby) And also indulge in some amazing olive bread that my guy made for me last night. TOTALLY AMAZING with bruschetta topping. Would make a killer pizza crust too. SO. DAMN. GOOD.

Abby will be getting a bath at some point today too, and I’m about to vacuum all this weekends crumbs from the living room. Then dinner and my guy will be here and my heart can relax.

Overall? NOT PREGNANT, happy, going to bathe and eat. WOOT!

Have a great week, yo!

P.S. I have to share this cause it’s just too damn cute. Yesterday my guy went to the store in search of the amazing olive bread ingredients. He came home with a dozen roses for me.

He said he went through the check out and the cashier asked him if it was my birthday or our anniversary. He said “No, just cause I love her.” Then he said “Everyone in the whole line said, ‘aaaaaaaaaaaw’.” He hung his head in embarrassment and asked, “Really?” I had to laugh. He’s so MALE. Seeing him sensitive is just so cute!

It’s a sick day, an ick day, a what a prick day…

I am sick today. No, that’s not a good thing. You know how sometimes being sick means you get to lie on the couch and be all snuggly under a blanket and watch tv and just fall asleep? You’re sick, but you’re comfy.

This is a different sick.

Abby woke me up last night about 3:30. I had a hard time going back to sleep. Somewhere between 4:30 and 5 I dropped off finally. I didn’t sleep well because the mysterious stomach pains are back. My guy left at 5:30 and I heard the front door close. Then I was wide awake again. Way to go, door.

I hung out on the couch with the laptop until about 7:45 when I decided maybe having something in my tummy would help. I went with scrambled eggs. BAD MOVE! BAD! From 8:15-9:30 I threw up about every 20 minutes. Bleh.

At 9:30 Abby woke up so I changed her and got her settled with her own scrambled eggs. Yesterday she ate some with no problem. She fed herself, no mess, no moving around. It was nice. Today when I’m sick? She did all but throw them against the wall. Remember my living room is carpeted and full of furniture?

Do you know how hard it is to get damp cold clammy smooshy scrambled eggs bits off/out of the carpet? Do you know what kind of a mess that is? Do you know it can be hard to pick them up without smooshing them into the carpet? Let me tell ya: picking egg bits up is slightly (oh so slightly) better than running over them with the vacuum cleaner. ((0.o)) Don’t ask me how I know that.

Then, I get an email…a lovely email…from one of my readers who suggest I should be snuggled up with tea, soup and cookies. ♥

Once Abby goes to sleep for her lunchtime nap I hobble off to the kitchen to get some tea. I choose peppermint. Mostly because it’s my favoritest tea ever. (I use it in cocoa too!) It always cheers me up, and peppermint is good for your tummy. Now, I never seem to be able to finish my hot drinks while they’re still hot. A cup of coffee can last me most of the day (with repeated trips to the microwave). So, today my tea got cold. And I’m sick which changes the way things taste. My lovely peppermint tea was cold with a delicious and stimulating moth ball aftertaste.

So now I’m nauseous again.

I called my guy at work, told him I’m pukey and he, well, first he said “Maybe you’re pregnant!” 😡 then asked, “Aww…and how can I help you?” I asked for ginger ale. Hopefully that’ll stay down. (I’ve had times where it hasn’t.) Bleh.

So..that’s me. Nauseous, sick, and bleh.

I also can’t work Facebook, but that’s another post.

May 10, 2003

May 8, 2003

Took baby Charity on long drive to see Gramma in the hospital. I can’t believe she has cancer. At first it scared me because Aunt Dorothy heard she had cancer and was gone a week later. Gramma has made it past that week and has had two chemotherapy treatments. She’s made hesitant jokes about losing her hair (which hasn’t happened yet). Aunt Carol is here from Georgia and has been staying at the hospital with Gramma 24/7. Mom can’t afford to take the time off work (she’d lose her job), and I have the kids to look after.

It feels awkward. Strange to see her in a hospital bed hooked up to monitors. It’s hard to imagine her weak and in need of help.  We have stilted conversation, and somehow manage to make her smile. She doesn’t have the strength to hold Charity so only coos at her from a distance. I tell her I love her when we leave. We only get to visit for about 45 minutes and have to go when Gramma gets tired.

May 9, 2003

Mom visits Gramma in the hospital and calls to ask what I think about her staying overnight at the hospital too. She needs to know how Gramma is, we both hate to leave her there even though Aunt Carol is there. And, Mom hasn’t seen Aunt Carol (her sister) in years so I tell her not to think twice.  Just stay.

May 10, 2003

I don’t get to the phone in time and the answering machine picks up. It’s Aunt Carol. Mom is already on the road coming back home. The hysteria in her voice tells me everything. When I work up the nerve I call the hospital. I can’t get anyone who can tell me anything. I call Gramma’s house (my brother and Grandpa are there). It’s my brother who tells me that Gramma is gone.

I cry non-stop for hours. I should have, I could have, if only I had…..

Time becomes inconsequential for me. Things happen in a blur, everything seems to be moving by both slowly and quickly, but like it has nothing to do with me. I can’t think of anything else except I can’t call Gramma anymore.

May 11, 2003

People are around me, hustling and bustling…so busy now: things to do, more to think about, things to arrange, people to call. I gather my children around me. They hug me as I cry. They’re so little and don’t understand what’s going on. Only that Mommy is sad. In the evening I snap out of it enough to tell Mom I will go with her tomorrow to the funeral home to make arrangements. I can’t sit and do nothing.

May 12, 2003 — Mother’s Day

Today the rest of the world is celebrating their mothers, grandmothers and women in their lives…and I’m helping my mother and Aunt Carol decide on a casket. We listen to the funeral director’s gentle voice discuss procedure, insurance and other things my mind refuses to focus on. I watch him talk to the others and watch him nod and smile gently to convey his understanding of our grief and loss. I think how horrible he is because it’s all a lie. He’s never seen her before he picked up her body from the hospital.

Back at Gramma’s house mom and Aunt Carol go through Gramma’s closet to decide on an outift to bury her in. I veto things she’s never worn and things that make her look too old. We decide to bury her in her usual “going out” skirt and blouse. I ask about her pin. No one knows where it is but me. As I retrieve it I wonder why they have no clue where she kept her things. They’re her daughters. I’m the granddaughter. I find it with no problem.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of motion and darkness.


Somehow I managed to get the kids and me to the funeral home. I didn’t make it without tears and was pretty functional until the viewing was over and the funeral director told everyone to go ahead and come forward to pay our final respects. Just like in a bad movie the word “FINAL” kept echoing in my head and then I couldn’t breathe. My knees buckled and I could only think FINAL. I’ll never see her again. I’ll never talk to her again. I’ll never hear her voice. She’s going to be lying there in the dark and the cold and covered in dirt and I can’t do this. I CAN’T DO THIS.

We moved to the church, me crying non-stop. We made it through the service and rode to the cemetery. There was a small service there. And I watched them lower her into the ground and fought back the rush of panic gathering in my throat. It rained. We stood there in the rain until we got too cold. My brother waited until the bulldozer came to push the mound of dirt into the big gaping wound in the earth. He stayed to fulfill our last promise to Gramma. She was afraid she wouldn’t end up in her own grave and no one would know it wasn’t her and wouldn’t know she was lost. We stayed until he was done. Until she definitely was where she was supposed to be and wouldn’t be leaving.

At the reception afterwards, we were late. They asked where we were and we told them about Gramma’s fear. Her husband and other daughter said “I had no idea.”

How can you love someone, be with them, be near them, and “have no idea” about anything about them?

May 10, 2010

It’s a very hard day. I’ve been crying most of the day, Abby’s looking at me like she did something wrong. I hold her and cry on her, and cry because she’s so beautiful. Because she’s so pure and precious. And because Gramma will never see her either. Gramma was such a big part of my life and it’s a part of me that my baby will never know. My Gramma will never be more to her than a face in a photograph. That breaks my heart. Again. More. Still.

Am linking to a poem I wrote a couple of years ago when my heart was breaking anew over Gramma. I wish I could have said thank you. Or goodbye. I wish she could have met my guy and my babies. I wish…I wish we had more time. I wish this was something I could ever be ready for. They say time heals all wounds, or that it gets easier. It hasn’t. It’s not. I don’t know what’s wrong with me compared to the rest of the world, but it still feels like part of my life was just ripped out. There’s no healing, there’s no scarring, there’s no getting better. It’s still a humongous painful bloody open wound and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Seven years and counting.

Saying Goodbye

The opposite of “North”” is “HOT!!”

I was born in upstate NY and was raised in PA. Here in the northeast part of the country we have four seasons every year. Autumn and spring are muddy, rainy sad seasons. In Spring you can distract yourself with new blossoming growing things, and in Autumn you have the changing colors of the leaves (which you can see because we’re surrounded by hills full of trees and the whole landscape changes into a kaleidoscope of happy colors). Winter sucks. There’s no way around that. We have 3.5 minutes where we look around at the houses and fields covered in a blanket of snow and think “Oh! That looks like a postcard!” and then we’re all “DAMN SNOW” wondering why we live here while we’re moving 3 feet of snow off what’s left of our salt-rusted cars or standing in snowbanks waiting for a bus. We shiver, we shudder, we shovel, we salt, we shovel, we salt, we shovel…repeat 654 times and ta-da! Spring!

Summer up here is different than other places too I’ve learned. “Hot” here is 90 degrees, humid, but where I am we have public swimming pools and it’s an hour’s drive to the water park or lake. Summer means you can breathe outside, you have flavored ice pops, and summer nights mean you get to go to bed with your window open and fall asleep watching the curtains billow in and out of your bedroom as they dance on a midnight breeze.

A couple years ago I moved to Alabama. I almost died. Pretty much my only thought when I moved was “YAY! No more winter!!” with tinges of “I’ll get to see the SUN! I miss the sun!” I was eager, hopeful and excited.

Then I woke up in Alabama.

We were in a motel. In air-conditioning. While I was inside I had to find the balance where blowing cold air meant “refreshing” and not “turn the heater on”.  Outside? Outside…well. OUTSIDE was a whole nother ball game.

Summer in Alabama means your car door handles are too hot to touch to get into your car, which you want to do to escape the oppressive rays of sun bearing down on you. Summer in Alabama means once you get into your car you want to get back out. The car seats burn your skin. The trapped air in the car dehydrates your lungs. Once you gather your nerve to start the car and go (hoping the speed of your car will blow air on you and cool you off) you burn your hand on the metal of the seat belts, and gritting your teeth and swearing slightly, you turn your key and fuse your hands to the steering wheel.

Summer in Alabama means that even if you’re driving with the car windows down there is no cool air.  It means your tires heat up to the point that they can either fuse to the asphalt and blow or the glue melts and your treads just come off while you’re driving. Summer in Alabama means sweat in your eyes as soon as you walk out your front door. It means never looking comfortable. It means always being sweaty and wrinkled and your shirt will always be sticking to your fat rolls. Summer in Alabama means never making a good first impression.

Mostly, summer in Alabama means I wonder to myself “What was wrong with Winter?”

May the Fourth Be With You

Today is NATIONAL STAR WARS DAY! How the hell did Star Wars get a national day? I had to poke around a bit and then in the end had to have someone actually explain it to me.

May the force be with you = May the Fourth (May 4th) be with you….*sigh* It was funny and clever for about a second and a half.

I guess this explains why all the Star Wars movies were on tv recently? Or it was coincidence and no one knew it was Star Wars day except for the Lucases. I did happen to watch Attack of The Clowns…

you know…the one where in the end Yoda turns into a super bouncy ball with a light saber and kicks Willy Wonka’s father’s ass?

Count Dooku

Willy Wonka’s Dad

[This is why I don’t review movies!]

Whatever. I just felt left out because apparently everyone else knew it was NATIONAL STAR WARS DAY and showed up for work today in their bathrobes.

I need a secretary!