Archive for May, 2015

birthdays suck, especially when they’re mine (g2)

I don’t really celebrate birthdays. I have been like this since about the age of ten. I don’t remember what the hell I was doing when I turned 21, I really cannot recall 30 and the decade after was a blur. The last birthday I tried to give any meaning to was the month I spent in Europe in honor of the last year of my -teens. For the most part, birthdays have just become markers of time that remind me of all the things I didn’t accomplish.

I’m embarking on yet another beginning to a new decade and it was probably one of my top ten shittiest days this year.

First, I have a boss who has a wife who is completely incompetent but is attempting to run a business on ebay. When this bores her, its left to me to finish her undone bullshit. I didn’t have the tools for what they wanted me to do, so I sent it to the department in our company that does that… officially… as like their sole job. They fucked it up. I get lectured… repeatedly. One of my superiors intervened and pointed out to them what a giant dick they were being, which they even admitted. But of course, not to me.

However, one of my co-workers actually made me an entire cake. Lemon pound cake with a glaze…be still my taste buds… so it was my happy thought.

I also got one of those epic cards from BFH, the kind that you keep. The one I got from them on my 21st birthday is the only thing I remember about my 21st birthday. When you get a birthday card with some scary nuns on the front, you know it’s a keeper. This was one of those, I’d read it seven times before noon just to remind myself that I could smile.

Spawn was in a raging shit mood as well. They had to wear their dress clothes to school and with my full attention on them, we got them to school just barely on time. The only photos I have of the occasion are all riddled with glares.

I had signed us up for a food delivery service. I had always wanted to try it but it had always been out of my means. I hate shopping. I know what I like, but putting them together in something nutritious and good has evaded me since becoming a parent, especially with a kid who eats a fraction of what I will, variety-wise.

This one had really good ratings and was about the cost of a minor grocery trip. It would run about $10 a meal, but considering how much we grab and go, that was a steal. Fresh food at our door and instructions and I didn’t have to think about what we were having for almost half of every week. Yay!

Our first shipment was to arrive on my birthday and Spawn was excited about the prospect of cooking.

That is of course, until the day it arrived. I have no clue what Spawn was expecting but it apparently didn’t fall too far outside “fried chicken and mac & cheese.” I thought the choices were pretty tame and sounded wonderful. Of course, this just increased Spawn’s irritation.

So here we had the makings of a wonderful meal, a gorgeous cake and I’m watching as Spawn is being an asshole through all of it.

I think I snapped.

I just completely blew, I channeled my mother’s Scot-Irish ginger to a fine degree. I asked what they had expected? I had paid to have real food delivered, not a bunch of fried garbage, considering I’d like to not die and all. But if that was the goal, there were better ways to go about it.

I went off about how maturity and freedom had an equally difficult facet of responsibility, chore and general suckiness, this only got worse the older you got and the more freedoms you had. I declared that Spawn could either choose to be treated maturely, and own the responsibility that comes with that, or have the freedoms of an infant, which meant none.

However, at this point in time, I would love to move out all by myself, just so I could walk through my own home without being accosted or having to trip over a dozen things that didn’t belong to me.

Then I proceeded to redecorate.

I basically slid anything on a surface, off. I slung anything I could get my hands on across the room. I was even calm in my demeanor with a quiet “Isn’t this what you were going for?” and I tossed one thing after another wherever and however I could.

I’ve never snapped quite this bad, but this has been an ongoing issue with Spawn and I the last several months and we never seem to quite get it fixed. I was on a rampage to break it completely.

I felt like my birthday had been shit on.

I felt like I was being shit on.

I was doing some shitting of my own for a change.

I went to bed.

And for a fucking change, Spawn cleaned.

Its wasn’t epic, it wasn’t impressive. But its the most I’ve seen the little shit do in months.

My birthday dinner was toast and beer.

Happy Birthday to me.

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The Things We Can’t Admit (G-uno)

There are some events in life that have the ability to mess with our minds in such a monumental way that we simply refuse to admit them. We cannot admit them to our own selves, and certainly not to others. This week has been complete agony for my husband in particular. My husband is emotionally the strongest person I’ve ever known. This week Hospice requested a meeting with our family regarding our loved one’s continual decline.

As a family we have fought by his side for almost four years. It has become painfully clear over the last six months that he is losing his battle to live. We have managed to make sure that at least twice a day there is a family member by his side each day. Our love for him is immense. He is a true warrior. He has battled circumstances that most people would have been unable to survive. He took the worst circumstances of his life, and turned them into cherished moments that may not have occurred between us all under different circumstances.

The beauty of these moments are bitter-sweet because they have been so precious that it makes the idea of losing the chance to have more of them unbearable. The thing that we have been unable to admit is that the moments have dwindled to far, and few in between. Prior to our loved one’s accident he had made the decision to have a living will made. He was very clear about his wishes to not have his life prolonged after a certain point.

Even though we want to respect those wishes (and we will) we find the idea of medicating him for comfort purposes to be an excruciatingly  difficult thing to do because there are still those most precious moments where he glimmers through reminding us that he is still here in spite of all his many ailments. He is connected to a feeding tube, but we have reached the point where his body is losing weight. This signifies that his body is no longer accepting the full benefits of nutrition. A prominent sign that he is leaving us.

He is still conscious, his organs are still functioning, he still jokes with us on rare occasions. Even though he is beginning to not know who we are at times it still feels like we are stealing his life. I cannot tell you how devastatingly painful this is for us all especially his son. We all agree that we would want someone to set us free from a condition that has no chance of recovery in the most gentle way possible, but at this moment we are unable to bring ourselves to actually turn off his feeding tube.

We have agreed to more medication to alleviate his other physical discomforts. We are all painfully aware that the very same medications will bring us to the moment where aspiration will become a possibility, forcing us to make the decision to remove the feeding tube. These are the things we can’t admit…

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off work on this fine memorial day, and the kid is in school – g2

So I have spent the greater part of the last week or two in the throws of allergy season and wishing all the plants getting their orgies on would just fucking die; twisting myself in strange contortions on the couch and in my bed, usually with a Mount Fuji sized mass of tissues on the floor nearby. The fact I have a birthday during this period of the year galls me to no end.

Allergies ended up turning into a sinus infection and a persistent nagging cough and chest congestion, which only increased my hatred of the mass of growing shit going on outside. The cough lingers but I finished the antibiotics yesterday and finally felt well enough to take Spawn to get a nice outfit for their upcoming graduation… its not THE graduation, but they will be going to a new school next year and some of that “everyone is a winner” bullshit still lingers.

Spawn is going through this period where most everything I say is somehow hypercritical and spiteful towards them. Having to be measured to make sure we picked the correct size was somehow turned into me paying a stranger to molest my kid. Yeah, seriously. I sat right there the whole time, nothing untouchable was touched. This was the first time they’ve even been professionally measured so therefore, I am a demon.

Salvation came when we got home with our spoils (and my wallet damn lighter) and I noticed on my calendar that I was off today….

SHIT YEAH!

Well, usually when I have off, Spawn does too… but not this time. If you ever see the villain suddenly don his Joker face and wring his hands in wicked success, you can pretty much visualize my reaction. I was Spawn-less for a fucking day!

This may not sound like a big deal to many of you, but it really is just Spawn and me. We are around one another morning, evening, weekends… very rarely are we separate. Spawn doesn’t like spending the night at other people’s houses much and rarely invites anyone over. I’m not the parent who has a couple drinks with co-workers before heading home. We have a close relationship but there is something to be said for having separation as well. When we need “me” time we have to sport headphones and usually its never in sync with the other.

So, until this afternoon:

I can go back to sleep….

I can relive Tom Cruise’s Risky Business dance scene:

or maybe this one that World of Warcraft adopted:

I have recently been made aware the organization of my kitchen is pretty much shit. I have my drinking glasses over the oven… no, I have no idea why I put them this way, I’m pretty sure that when I first moved here, it was one of those situations where the first thing that touched my hand went into the first accessible cabinet. However, I could make myself productive in this awesome time that I have to fuck off without the presence of Spawn… but it seems such a waste.

huh, and now I’m out of coffee and that is a much more pressing matter.

My playlist for today: Gnarls Barkley

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The End Of “Me Time” (G-uno)

“Me Time” is dwindling  down to its last few hours, and the truth is that things did not work out for me the way it usually does. I did manage to get more painting, and cleaning done, but as it turns out it was my own mind that I was unable to clean up. “Me  Time” has always been a time were I am able to get a better grip on all the daily demands of my life. I am usually able to accomplish so many things, leaving me with a renewed sense of feeling that I have what it takes to meet the demands of my everyday life. This was not the case this time.

Instead of feeling motivated I found myself to be more robotic. It was as if my mind understood the concept, but my spirit was unable to align itself with my mind. I am usually able to take such joy in accomplishing things that I know need to be done. The very idea of being able to do these things without the other usual demands of my time is like a small piece of paradise to me. Lately I can’t seem to shake the feeling of being stuck.

Stuck in emotional quicksand. I am not functioning in my life the way I need to be, and the list of things that need to be done keep growing in monumental proportions. My anxiety is growing equally in monumental proportions. I can logically reason within my mind the solutions to fixing the problems I face, but It’s like I’m lifeless, stuck in the center of the quicksand. I keep watching myself sink a little more each day. I just don’t seem to be able to make myself function. I am angry at myself for this lack of spiritual energy.

Last night I sat beside our loved on for hours. I bathed him, changed his bedding, cleaned up his room. Then I just sat there beside him. He is unable to hold a conversation with us these days. I still keep talking, treating him the way I always do. Last night I could not talk to him that way. So instead I just pulled the chair up next to his bed. tucked my socked feet under his covers next to his. I sat with him thinking about everything. He is stuck in his own quicksand.Just like me. I can see his body from the waist up, but I know part of him has been lost beneath the quicksand.

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“Me Time ” (G-uno)

I think that “Me Time” is just one of the best things in life! It’s a chance to take a small break from all the “Have to’s,” and indulge yourself in the “Want to’s” in your life. I try to take two long weekends a year to fully indulge myself (as much as possible) in being completely self focused. What kind of things happen during “Me Time” you ask? This is a highly individualistic endeavor but this weekend I will try to accomplish the following:

  1. I want to finish all the painting projects that I have started in our home. This will include the bedroom, bathroom, hallway, living room, & dinning room chairs.
  2. I will rearrange the furniture in my house.
  3. Do some major spring cleaning which will involve getting rid of any items that have been unused in the past 2 years.
  4. I will not cook, answer my phone, or my door for the next 4 days.
  5. I will listen to my favorite music, sing loudly, and probably dance naked through my house.
  6. I will watch some movies that I’ve been wanting to see.
  7. I will drink coffee at midnight, and sleep in as much as I want.

Do you see all the “I’s” in that list? That is what makes it officially “Me Time!” My guys are off for their camping trip, that’s what they do for their “Me Time.” We all work so hard in our every day lives, doing so many selfless tasks. We all deserve to take some time to just do the things we never seem to have time for in our daily routines. It’s amazing how much more refreshed you feel when you give yourself the same energy you so lovingly give to others on a daily basis.

Do you hear that? That’s my favorite jam playing in the background. My feet are just waiting to get up, and dance to that sound, even though it means putting this delicious coffee down. Come on what are you waiting for? Dance, sing, eat ,drink, and take some time just for yourself! I’m off these feet will wait no more! 😉

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In The Copilot’s Chair Trying To Climb Onto The Pilot’s Lap (G-uno)

For as long as I can remember I have been trying to climb out of the copilot’s chair, and into the pilot’s chair.Somewhere down the line I took the whole “you’re the master of your destiny” speech very much to heart. The problem is I also very firmly believe that we are all a part of a much bigger destiny in life where free will is certainly honored, but God is my “Pilot,” and I am the “copilot.” The airplane is my physical being for this amazing Earthly journey.

The problem for me is that I have always been anxious about the particulars. I don’t ride horses, or any other animal for that matter because the idea of driving something that has a mind of its own, is a very unsettling concept in my little world. I find it equally unsettling to be driven by anyone other than myself this includes airplanes, trains, buses, ships, all other vehicles. I do of course do all of these things (except for the animals), but never without this little discomfort that resides deep down inside of me.

My eternal struggle has always been being able to remind myself that life is a gentle balancing of both my faith, and my ability to guide my life. In moments of extreme anxiety I tend to forget that divine intervention is as much a factor in my life as my own free will. My faith has always been strong. I have always felt God’s presence in my life. There are just those moments when I completely forget that I am not in control of everything that happens in my journey. It is in those moments that I lose myself.

I find myself becoming increasingly more anxious. A deep feeling of hopelessness takes over. My anxiety over my fears of not being able to do the things I need to accomplish in my life seems to grow to the point of almost paralyzing my ability to do anything. Then in the middle of climbing out of my copilot’s seat, desperately trying to climb onto my “Pilot’s” lap so I can fly that plane myself. I  start seeing signs. Sometimes they come in the form of written words, or from the conversations of others. It’s almost like the Universe sends out signs. One right after the other all sharing the exact same theme.

The signs remind me that it’s okay to be the “copilot,” because it comes with the incredible duality of both being able to guide the journey while enjoying the view. It means I can go back to my seat, reminded that sometimes faith is the only thing we do actually have control of in our journey. To be honest there will always be those days when I can not embrace the freedom that comes with faith. Fortunately on those days my “Pilot” is willing to let me sit on his lap with the comforting illusion that I’m in control of the flight. 😉

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“Inside ” Mirror (TM) (G-uno)

I have a theory that we may be able to clearly see some of the people in our lives from the “Inside,” and some from the “Outside.” I also am beginning to believe that we can never truly see ourselves from an “Outside” perspective except on the very rare occasions when we are in the midst of experiencing personal growth. I find this theory to be both comforting, and disconcerting. The disconcerting part comes from realizing that you have been reacting to your life’s circumstances from a completely misguided point of view.

I don’t know about the rest of you out there, but I find that when I am wrong, I am extremely wrong. I can accept being wrong, the problem for me is my embarrassment over not coming to the right conclusion much sooner. Even more so my inability to view my poor behavior until after-the-fact when the damage has been done. I wish that I could have an “Inside” mirror so I could stand in front of it, practicing the words/facial expressions that were about to come effortlessly out of my face (usually with a less than healthy amount of righteous indignation gulp), and that I could suddenly see myself the way the person that I am about to speak to would see me.

It might even be more helpful if your own reflection from this “Inside” mirror could come out, and give you one of those “Wow I could have had a V-Eight” smacks in the forehead. Not hard enough to give you a concussion, but strong enough to get your attention. We could have a full-length “Inside” mirror at home. A compact sized one attached to the back of our cell phones(TM) so when we are out in public, and we are about to lose control we could whip it out for a quick look. The way we check our smiles after eating something to avoid the embarrassment of talking to someone with a left over piece of food stuck to your tooth.

The compact cell mirror could even come with an app that would issue labeling like ” Ass hat alert!,” or “Your about to screw up in a major way stop!,”  or maybe one that says “Remove that look on your face immediately!”  Maybe the mirror could be both an “Inside” mirror, and an “Outside” mirror. It would stay on as the traditional “Outside’ mirror, and when you needed to activate the “Inside” feature you could issue the verbal command “Mirror, mirror, with wisdom of all, how is this jack-ass about to fall?” 😉

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