Sunday, June 5, 2016

A bad day.

On nights when I'm a bad mom, I hate myself.  When I've not been patient, not counted to four, not taken a breath, not thought before I spoke, not remembered that the person I'm angry with and yelling at is 3 years old and not exactly working with the same toolbox as I...I hate myself. 

tonight's one of those nights, did you guess?

It feels like they've cried for weeks, from the time they get up until the time they go to bed, over everything and nothing all at the same time.  We've been sick for weeks, all of us.  They started a new daycare.  Life is full of challenges to our daily normal lately, and none of us is handling it well but you'd think at least the grownups could manage to not lose their shit.  And we did, for the first week and a half or so.  By Wednesday this week, though, I was over it, and I asked Mom if they would keep the girls for us tonight so that we could just have a break, have a night to sleep.  (They don't do that, either.  They take turns waking up over and over again through the night - cora cries if she doesn't get milkies, Geneva cries if I won't go lay down with her. It's constant musical beds and demands and whining and I'm just so fucking over it.)  There was a meltdown en route to grandma's, though - G was losing her shit at the idea of staying the night away from us, from me specifically.  She's super clingy like that all of a sudden, in the last 4 or 5 days.  I blame the new daycare situation - it's a huge change.  And the fact that she's also felt like crap, right along with the rest of us, that makes for a volatile situation.  So we didn't go to grandma's, we came home.  We had a plan.  Our plan was to transfer the now-sleeping Cora from the car to the bed and then set G up in the living room on her cot with a movie and we could just chill and let her do her thing until she fell asleep.  Cora woke up on the way into the house, because the firefighters out collecting for crusade for children blew their siren and horn as they drove past our driveway as Jimi was getting her out of the car.  Fuckers.  So then I had to try to nurse her to sleep, because she wasn't down with just laying down with Daddy.  She wouldn't go to sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a bad night. It's over.  We made up before we went to sleep, and we both said sorry as soon as we woke up this morning.  I always hate myself when we fight.

Today is a new day.  I'm a better mom today.  So far, at least.  I went to Walgreens first thing and bought some Sudafed - maybe if my face doesn't hurt and I can actually breathe, I'll be able to be a bit more rational and calm when challenged by toddlers. 

Cora is napping.  She's eating everything she can get her hands on today.  Geneva is sitting next to me eating a lemon lime dumdum sucker and playing with playdoh.  We're friends today.  Jimi is watching something on Amazon and trying not to lose his mind, I think.  I encouraged him to get out and go do something without us today if he needs to, because I get it, and I don't want him to kill us all in our sleep.  I think we've both had moments in the last few weeks where we've thought "what the fuck is this hell that I'm in and how can I escape it?"

Parenting is hard, yo.  Somehow, it's still worth it. 

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

I'm sitting at the beach.

The moon will be coming up soon...i know that because i can see Mars now, and i know the moon follows shortly after in the lower left of my panoramic oceanfront view. 

This is amazing. It's Tuesday. The girls are finally sleeping. Jimi and mom and dad are all in bed. I'm alone on the balcony with a hard root beer trying to suck up every single possible moment of this vacation.   It's been such a long time coming. I'm so thrilled to be here. I dont want to waste a moment. 

The wind is getting cold.  I should get a jacket or blanket or change into pants or something.   I want to go down to the beach and sit in the little chair hut thing dad rented for the week, but I'm a woman so the idea of going somewhere alone and isolated at night is scary.  Have to weigh the potential experience against the possibility of being raped and murdered, just because, you know, I  have a vagina and that's what society has taught me. Ugh. 

I'll probably stay here. Maybe. Still havent seen the moon, but it's coming.

I downloaded a star chart app last night and it scared me.  Maybe because it was red for night mode.  Maybe the bad new age music. Maybe I was a little too high. But i pointed it down, and it showed me constellations on the other side of the world,  in another sky, and it freaked me out and I had to turn that shit off and sit down.  I felt a little dizzy, a little sick to my stomach. It was odd and strange and a little funny.

I wish there was a cigarette lying around out here somewhere.

I've been swimming and lying in the sun and there's more of that on the agenda for tomorrow. Life is sweet.

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Full of awesome and vinegar (chips).

I pretty much love everything about life right now.

My husband is awesome.  My kids are awesome. My job is awesome. There's a lot of awesome.  Guys, my kitchen sink is clean.  My husband did that, cleaned up the dinner dishes after he emptied the dishwasher.  I mean, how much better can it get, I ask you?

As low as I was over the holidays, that's as high as I am right now.  I'm weightless.

Except that i tend to eat when I'm happy and im currently close to 20 pounds heavier than I was in October.   D'oh!  Whatevs.  I'm gonna go eat this pie and ice cream and drink a beer and watch zombies.  With my dish-washin' husband.

Fuck yeah.

Monday, March 28, 2016

Change is good.

I've been at my new job for three weeks, and I love it.  I want to say I should've made this change years ago, but things happen when they're supposed to happen, and this happened at just the right moment, I think.  I feel like any effort to make a change sooner couldn't possibly have landed me in such a perfect position. 

My coworkers are smart and capable and helpful and friendly.  My boss is smart, and seems to be a good manager.  The office is new and modern and comfortable.  The environment is relaxed and casual and everyone drops the occasional f-bomb.  The commute sucks, but nothing is perfect and if this job must have a downside, I'll take a 30-40 minute drive over mismanagement and assholes any day. 

I've discovered that I like podcasts – Limetown and Tanis and The Black Tapes and Women of the Hour have been my favorites so far.  I can listen to podcasts while I work – just listen along as I plug in numbers and letters.  For lunch each day, when the weather is nice, there are two parks within a short drive where I can walk.  There's also a Meijer and a Kohl's and a million delicious fattening food options. 

I can't get over how different this job is from my last.  I mean, they got my direct deposit entered in time for my first check to be deposited directly into my account.  That's funny because, at the last place, it wasn't uncommon for a new employee to still be waiting for their direct deposit to be set up after three months.  Also a new experience – when I have a question, they have charts and tables and places I can look and reference to find information.  This isn't a business run completely by passed-down tribal knowledge!  They have shit written down!  It's amazing. 

I am so happy I made this move, and I can feel the change in every aspect of my life.  I'm happier when I leave work, so I'm happier when I get home, so I am in a better mood with Jimi and the girls.  I have more energy to play, and their meltdowns don't result in a meltdown of my own as often.  I'm more patient, more inclined to say yes, more motivated to do the daily grind stuff.   My stomach doesn't hurt when I wake up in the middle of the night and think about work.  I don't have a pit in my stomach or that ever-present feeling of dread when I'm driving to work.  My life doesn't feel full of anxiety and stress anymore.  

Yay for Change! 

Monday, February 29, 2016

Timing is everything.

Today is February 28, 2016.

Ten years ago today, my world...the go-to line here is to say "my world shattered", or "my world fell apart," but ten years out, it doesn't feel like that anymore, so to write that feels fake and overly dramatic.  Ten years ago today, my first husband, whom I shouldn't have married in the first place, told me he wanted a divorce.  My whole life I've heard things like "You forget the pain of childbirth," and I always thought that was probably bullshit, until I went through it twice without pain meds and realized a few months out that the details of the pain were fuzzy and that it doesn't seem like it was all that bad when I look back.  I know that's bullshit, because it hurts like hell, but time softens the razor edges.  Heartache is like that too - it gets dull with time.  I guess that's why it feels disingenuous to claim my world fell apart back then, when he said those words to me.  I still remember those words: "Fuck it, I'm done. I'm coming back to El Paso, I'm getting my shit, and I'm done."  Or something like that.  That's probably not an exact quote anymore; it's been a long time since I remembered that day in any real detail. 

The truth is that by the time he said those things to me, I'd been hoping for so long that he'd say them that it was a relief they were finally out there.  So while I was scared and sad and heartbroken, I was also relieved and excited and ready to start a new life.  I was shaky with the anticipation and dread of it all; the dichotomy was so strong.  Change is always scary, even when it's good for you. 

In the aftermath of that breakup, my mom called me brave.  Of all the words she's spoken to me, those are the ones I carry with the most pride.  My Momma thinks I'm brave.  Because I moved away from home, across the country, to be with a man I loved...and because I moved back home, across the country, when he no longer loved me.  It would be easy to shrug it off, to diminish the chances I took with both of those moves, to say I'd been foolish, not brave.  Momma is right, though; I was brave.  I can totally do hard things. 

I quit my job this past Friday.  The one I used to love.  The one I'd come to refer to as a "soul-sucking whore".  I'd like to tell you that I was a brave badass and told them all to go fuck themselves before I walked out without warning, but that's not how it went down at all.  Not even a little bit.  The true story is that I started job-hunting back in November.  I created a brand-new badass resume; the benefit of doing all the things for nearly nine years is that it gave me a ridiculous amount of experience and crazy skills in so many different aspects of running a business - I am an absolute rock star on paper.  I went on a few interviews, one of which I bombed spectacularly.  That threw me into a funk for the end of December and most of January, so I stopped job-hunting and started eating instead.  I gained 15 pounds in 4 weeks, and avoided my friends for the better part of two months. I decided I'd stay where I was until annual bonuses came out in March, then I'd start looking again. 

Instead, a man called me in late January.  He said he'd found my resume online - one of the jobs I'd applied to in the thick of my search required creating/uploading your resume to the site, and I'd made it searchable because, you know, why not?  I never expected anything to come of it, and I was completely skeptical of this guy when he called me out of the blue.  But the work was similar to what I've been doing, and he said he could meet my salary requirements, so I agreed to meet him for an interview.  I liked him right away, but I was leery, and still licking my proverbial wounds from my magnificent flop back around the holidays. I asked questions in the interview such as "how often do your employees cry at their desks?" and "what's the worst part of this job?" and "how much time do you require from your people after hours?"  Things I probably never would have said if I'd been courting them, but I'd decided I was all out of fucks and if this guy didn't like me, it was no skin off my hide.  I hadn't gone searching for him, after all.  I didn't follow up with an email or thank-you card; in fact, I didn't even call him back on the day I'd said I would.  But he called me, and wanted to sit down again, so I met him and his right-hand-gal at the local Vietnamese restaurant for lunch one day.  I liked her, and I liked her answers to my crazy questions, specifically the one about crying at your desk - it was as if I'd grown a second head.  Apparently that's not normal stuff in normal jobs?  Who knew?

Less than a week after that lunch meeting, my (now former) boss called me into his office.  A VP had sent out an email (presumably while hung over from last night's scotch binge) that basically said I was incapable of doing any portion of my job correctly or effectively.  He didn't start the email off that way - in a style that is very much his own, he was responding to a problem I'd highlighted on one of his pet projects, and in his efforts to deflect blame, his message devolved into an attack on my professional reputation I've worked tirelessly to build for the last 9 years.  Thankfully, only my boss and direct supervisor were copied.  Thankfully, my boss knew better.  Thankfully, my direct supervisor, when confronted by my boss to discern if there was any truth in the accusations, could not provide a single solitary circumstance in which the VPs words would've been true.  I went home that night determined that I was going to find a way to be gone within a month - I could not work there anymore.  If that drunkard was saying untruths of that level about me in an email to my boss, who was he speaking them to out loud?  He was going to ruin me professionally within the company, and I'd spent too many years killing myself for that place to go out like that. 

The next morning, at 8:30, I received a phone call with a job offer.  With a twelve percent base salary increase.  With monthly bonuses.  Company paid cell phone.  Immediate vacation, insurance, retirement.  I waited until the following Monday before I turned in a four-week notice.  In retrospect, I should've given the assholes two weeks and been done, but I'm too dedicated for my own good, I guess. 

I'm hesitant to use words like Fate or Destiny, but it sure does feel like things in my life have a way of working out with excellent timing.  And I'm not religious, so I don't like to throw around the term Blessed very often, but more and more I find that's the perfect word to describe my life and the things that happen to me.

My divorce from my first husband was finalized September 29, 2006.  Jimi and I started dating less than a month later.  Ten years later, here we are - house, dog, two beautiful people we made with our love for one another.  It's amazing to me how different today was compared to that day a decade ago.  Everything I wanted back then is everything I have now.  My life today is the reason I was able to walk away then - my determination to have THIS life rather than THAT life.  Every tear was worth it; as in childbirth, every wave of pain was worth the life that was born from it. 

I'm so thankful my ex-husband was more brave than I and was able to say those words that set us both free from an unhappy marriage.  I wouldn't have this if he hadn't done that.  And I am so thankful for this life. 

I begin my new career on March 7 - I'm taking this next week to clean my house, declutter my head, have lunch with girlfriends, buy some business casual clothes, and, of course, celebrate the 3rd anniversary of the birth of my beautiful eldest daughter.  It's a celebration, yo! 

Life is awesome.  I can't wait to see what happens next. 

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