living while waiting....

For a very long time, I have had to live while waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I say living but it's really just existing with spurts of me faking living when I can muster the strength to push the elephant in the room to the back of my mind.

When someone you love with all of your soul makes horrible choices, you have to make a choice.

I made a choice to love from a distance, allow that person to do things at their will, wherever they wanted. The condition. I would not support that person, their activities or their train of thought, not emotionally and definitely not financially.

Of course that comes with what is often emotionally a higher consequence for me, a soul eating mind boggling, hellish existence.  Torn when the phone doesn't ring.  Then furious and emotional and again torn when it does.  There is no happy medium there is no mutual enjoyment of life and it's experiences.  It is what it is.  An inner ring of hell.

It's odd how the human brain learns to process things that are so completely outrageous and unacceptable if they happen enough.  Literally the brain removes any logic to save the heart.  It's like the brain knows if one more little piece of your soul falls to the floor you will collapse with all breath gone and fade away.

Things you never in your life thought you would hear,  become somewhat expected.  Disappointing? Well of course.  Fear inducing, almost every time.   Seeing red with angry,  your brain somehow melts it to where a simple wash of un-easy gently rolls off your back.

You can't fix it, they don't want to be fixed, no matter how absolutely insane and ludicrous the situation you can not even point out how completely illogical the situation is, let alone offer solutions.  There are no less than 683 million reasons why all of your ideas are completely stupid.

You learn to focus not on the highs, not on the lows,  not on the shocking news,  but only on the fact that you love that person.   You make sure whatever you say wont offend them, or their choices, and you make double damn sure that person knows you love them, you love them deeply, you love them completely, you love them from your soul.  You only want the best for them, safety for them, happiness for them.

You see no one really has the same idea of happiness..  It took me 43 years to realize that.  Another thing this person taught me.  Just because it's " the normal" thing that you are sure would make anyone happy, happy and delighted and feeling so very lucky,   that can seem like hell on earth to someone with a completely different view of happy.  Their view of happy would be most peoples view of hell on earth.  So who am I to attempt to enforce my cookie cutter ideal of happy on anyone, any adult on the planet.  Simply put, I am no one.  I am just a daughter, a wife, a sister, a mother, an aunt, a friend.

I am made up as we all our of a unique cocktail of our childhoods, our teachers, our elders, our peers, our own life lessons, co workers, books we have read, shows we have seen.  Just a big casserole of a human being trying to find "happy".  When I achieved happy I assumed that would be wonderful,  more than wonderful, and that in turn everyone would become happy, everyone would see how hard work brings happy, how loving each other brings happy,  how walking the right road, singing your own theme song, and smiling would obviously land you in happy.

I had a really hard time the past 20 years trying to shove people into the happy, I tried to drag them into happy, push them in, beg them, lure them,  slide shows of happy,  hand made cards, long emails, song dedications, heart felt talks and hugs, I could surely get them to happy, and then once they saw happy they would be like DUH clearly I want happy too !  

I was wrong, their happy was so different than mine or most of societies so I had to do one of the hardest things on the planet and accept they would not be in my happy with me.  Maybe they were taking a different route, and we would meet up in happy.  Maybe their happy just meant more pit stops, more experiences, different criteria,  maybe  their happy would never lead to the same location as my happy, not even in the same area and I could never see them from my happy, what would I do then?

So then slowly you say, well they aren't in my happy or headed that way,  but their happy could be really good for them, and so I will work on being happy for them in their happy.  little crumbles of your heart fall, and your soul tears a little more.  But in the end all you really want is for them to be happy, even if it's not your happy.  So you convince yourself not to be such as narrow minded selfish ass who demands everyone's happiness is within arms reach of your happiness.  Don't be such an idiot to think we are all alike, what a boring world that would be right?  Keep telling yourself that, it makes it easier and you can persevere your heart, mind and soul a little more.  Plus it does make them happy that you are happy for them in their happiness.  It is painful but it's good for them and for the relationship.


Then a call comes, it's not happy call, you are prepared because when this disease spins round and round the calls come in 2 forms and 2 forms ONLY.  On top of the world best thing ever, everything is beyond amazing.  The next call could be in a week, or within 20 minutes of the first call  the world is ending, completely ending, there is no hope, there is no escape, there is nothing that can make it better, you can only listen, and try not to cry and remember to love, offer helpful solutions, even offer to make arrangements or calls even though miles separate you the internet can allow you to help, you do what you can and it's usually for nothing,  it never works out, but you make damn sure they know you love them, you love them so much you can't breath when they are in pain.

The calls- you see the caller id, it's a number from a state that you don't know, ever. But you know who is on the other end, you don't know what kind of call it will be, but you take deep breaths and you prepare to play the roulette game that is literally their life.  What kind of call, what kind of incredibly fantastic nearly ludicrousness words of grandeur  or is it going to be the gut wrenching heart breaking sobbing pleads for help.  You don't know, but you answer the phone, inviting the insanity, the roller coaster of love and hate and pain into the mundane yet happy that you are attempting to convince yourself of daily.


Nothing surprises you now.  Literally,  as long as it's their voice on the end you are prepared.  Simply because it's the common procedure.  You've learned to stop yelling, begging, urging, and just learned to focus on conveying the fact that you love the elephant in the room, and you love that elephant when your eyes open in the morning, and you love that elephant when your eyes wont close at night without a tear quietly running down your cheek.  No one see's your tear. No one hears your cry and no one, no one on the planet can understand why this elephant is needed so deeply and is somehow comforting.


Then as you are in your happiness on the back porch wind blowing you sit with your little family, cross legged looking at your happiness, eating sandwiches and thinking how peaceful and loving and happy this all is.  The phone rings.

The elephant steps outside.  With 1 sentence the elephant sits on your chest, takes your breath, and overcomes your world as it's sucked away by the crushing.  But sometime when that elephant climbs on your it compartmentalization your body,  the soul, the heart, the brain, are functioning separately.  This is good for you, it allows you to attempt to speak in a sane, calm, tone, using gentle words, no blame, just love.  The call ends, with mutual " I love you's"

The happiness is gone for them. Now faced with a very adult matter that simply can't be "worked away".

You don't remember the rest of the happy picnic,  the people in your happiness with you do not have a conversation with you in regards to it.  You move on as you do after every call.   But something is wrong.  Very wrong

You can't tell anyone, yet you don't cry, you don't sob, you don't fall to the floor throwing up, you don't steal a car and get to the elephant just to hold them.

What the hell is wrong with you.  Why are you not responding like a human,  why not like all the times you had hard news before.  You haven't fallen apart yet.   Will you fall apart?  Will this change your ability to move forward?  Will this person now want back in your happy?  If this person comes back can you handle it, can the happy team handle it,  what will be the cost of the elephant if you don't?  What will be the cost of happy if you do.  

I know the other shoe will fall, It has to, there is just no way to process this without dying more inside,   maybe I am out of soul, heart, tears..  Maybe I have been cried out, maybe I am stronger, maybe my brain is trying to protect me.

I am very much not ok.  Mostly because I feel ok,  there is no way I should feel ok.  Why am I not shaking sitting in the shower crying and sobbing and vomiting like I have done so many times before when the not happy, no ok news came in.

I'm not even shaking.

The shoe will drop, I hope, I beg, I have the strength, the knowledge, the wisdom, the compassion, the ability, the life experience, balanced with the brain, the heart and soul, to take this journey.  To share my happy,  to understand their happy, to make a new happy, but most of all, to convey they undying, deepest of love and the basic humanity to make their happy the best happy I can make it.

          photo credit to www.myniceprofile.com/broke-heart

please find your happy, please let everyone you know how much you love them, even if their happy is so completely different than your happy.


XO
PEACH OUT.

Helpful Hints part 1

There are a few life lessons to take into consideration. I will attempt to cover a few areas for you.  You Are welcome..

Career Hint: If you are working through accounting technical problems with Coca-Cola Inc, and you need to call them about it in the morning, do not write 'DEAL WITH COKE PROBLEM" on your Outlook calendar. It comes across badly to co-workers.


Marriage Hint: When your wife informs you that her period has begun, saying "Kinda figured" won't add to marital harmony. 


Educational Hint: When writing a paper for history, make sure you know who it’s supposed to be about. That A+ 3 page paper on Ben Franklin will get you an F if you were supposed to write about Thomas Jefferson.


Parenting Hint: If your son trips into the bowling lane you are playing in, do not run out to rescue him as fast as you can. The lanes are waxed.


Legal Fun Hint:  Wear a red polo and kahkis to Target, when customers ( or other employees)  talk to you speak  back in pig latin or just move your lips without making noise.  I checked, it's not illegal.


If you have a helpful hint  please send it in this may just become a regular feature.




xoxo
PEACH OUT

The Great Cork Debate

I am noticing the weather cool a bit ( thank the gods).  After spending months and months in a friggin sauna disguised as a southern state, the thought of living in my oven on broil to cool down became logical.

Now the weather is cooling, we usually have 2 weeks at fall and 2 weeks at spring where we can air out the joint and leave the windows open for some of the day.    Air out such a simple term really,  like what you would do with a sports uniform or that car you had in the 80's that you had to "air out" prior to going home in case your parents had to get in it for some reason.

But my house,  "air out" bring an entirely new level of stank.

I live with the Price ( my 9 yr old),  the Droid ( my DH)  3 dogs and 1 cat.  We have a very large house that I built back when the 21 year old princess and 19 year old #1 son lived here.
Even though I can't keep this massive domicile clean ( because I am a redhead and allergic to cleaning)  I am grateful for the extra rooms.
 They are for storage.  Gaseous fumes storage.  We need to change our last name to  Flatulation or something.

There are some rooms in my house that are designated Natural Gas quarantine rooms, if you accidentally need something from that room you have to sign a legal waiver from my Insurance Company saying you wont sue for nasal damage or PTSD.  Yes it's that bad.

But what is worse than the Droid, The Prince and yes the occasionally rose scented air freshener fart from me, there lies the WOMD.  Weapons of Mass Destruction.

The dogs.  Every winter I fear their asses with turn into a gas powered perpetuation device.  To make it all worse the older dogs lay with their butts facing the fire place.  WHAT???  Can you say test fate?

So this year while I am airing out the  Recepción a la casa muy grande de la iglesia. .   I wonder if I should just cork up their butts before we light the fireplace this year.

I am leaning towards the belief that the insurance would not pay on the claim that a 9 yr old black lab blew up the family room and was jettisoned like Spock from Enterprise out of the brick wall on the other side of the house .    Option 2 involves me those pine tree air fresheners off of their tails.    I think the cork is probably the better idea.

Until then I will wear my utility belt of  air cleaners, disinfectants, and fresheners.  Wearing a SARS mask because I am too cheep to get a friggin ventilator gas mask.

Good luck, may your day be drastically decreased in your suffrage in the land of Nasty Mc Fartbutt


xoxo
PEACH OUT

I ain't your Average Bear Boo Boo

I love Yogi and Boo Boo, I just want to pick up a pic a nic basket now.  Filled with yummy stuff like potato salad, and ham and a pie.  I love food, either I am a pig or a Bear, I guess that depends on the time of day and if you piss me off or not.

My kids seriously pissed me off all the time,  but usually not on the same day. Because no one needs me to lose what little is left of my mind.

So you can imagine how the shit rained down  on their collective parade  when they BOTH got in trouble at school on the same day.

After the school meetings and such I set forth to make them hate me. To realize that psychological warfare was not invented by the Government, but instead in the real trenches, where your momma does indeed wear combat boots.

For dinner they got liver, cauliflower, whole wheat bread and tonic water.  Now I realize some of you may be going OMG YUM!  To you I say WTH  are you serious that shit is totally nasty. It's like organs with a side dish of coagulated zit.  Lucky for me. My kids feel the same way. Which made it AWESOME.

not Yum just uhm and eww.

But I wasn't going to eat that crap, I didn't get in trouble at work that day, which is part of the reason I ordered pizza to be followed by an ice cream sundae social  and Soft Drinks for me and their Dad.  Why?  Isn't it clear folks. I am an evil witch.

We ate it all  making yum yum moaning noises in front of the kids who sat there crying and pissed with their ubber disgusting meal.  

Pouting, attitude, tears, and finally one of them screamed, " I am going to turn you in, this is child abuse".

That was the pivotal moment that brought them a new speech and a new understanding.

I began with, "  really?  the law says I have to feed you,  the meal in front of you is not only food, but very nutritious, I find it hard for this to be child abuse in the eyes of the law."

The blank stares back from my children alerted me that I had their full attention.

So I then explained they owned nothing,  not the shoes, the clothes, the books, the toys or even their bedrooms.  Those were all mine, but I was generous enough to let them "use" my things.

I also reminded them the law only says you have to be clothed, it does not specify that it has to be name brand totally awesome and in fashion.  That they could indeed go to school in flower print and plaid overalls with hand me down shirts saying things like " I love figure skating"  or "my parents love me".

By this point I had their attention, and my point had gotten through quite nicely.   For the next 13 years I had no debate, no discussion and definitely no more days that they both had a call from the school.

Yep that's how I roll,  also see, " more reasons I wont ever get mother of the year" 

Go out and enjoy your weekend, be safe and laugh often.

xoxo

PEACH OUT

I had to stop dancing Naked

First you must know that my daughter is awesome, responsible, brilliant and she farts glitter.  She had her first 2 years of college near our home on scholarship, once she got her AS  she had to move a few hours away on her own to attend the University of which she pays for by herself.  (Thank you douchebag grant and scholarship people I hope the people you give the free education to actually use for something other than a meth lab)


In August 2009, she had just left home, spreading her confident wings when  less than a week and sent me an email detailing her daily struggles in a new town.  The end of it surprised me because she said,
 " Pray for me that I don’t get lost, I don’t get rained out, I make new friends, and that I get to Applebee’s on time and DON’T lock my keys in my car!

I love you and I can’t wait to see you this weekend.

Sam"

Sam's not a super religious person but clearly the compounding stress drove her to this request and I could tell she was homesick and a bundle of nerves.  At this point most mom's would have said something inspirational, motivational and loving.  I am not most mom's and the response I gave her is probably one of the reasons I will never be mother of the year.

Dearest Samantha,

 

    In accordance with your written formal request for prayer ( which dumbfounded me)  I immediately began the prayer procedure of my choice due to the fact you failed to outline the type of religion or diety rules.  Therefore the official minutes of the prayer meeting are enclosed as follows:

 

1-  the nekkie dancing under the moon with candles and flowers began at precisly 11am,

2- the wood nymphs watched in horror at my wiggidy whack dance moves for aproximately 15 minutes

3- around 1115 the majoritey (2/3rds) of the wood nymphs began puking

4-those wood nymphs who were not puking joined in my prayer dance

5- by midnight, the woods surrounding our house were sufficiantly cleared of those wildlife without a previous visual impairment.

6- by 1245am, the police showed up in haz mat gear saying they were responding to a suicide call from a racoon who was obviously driven to the state of madness from watching my fat ass jiggle around nekkie in the yard attempting to summons good tidings to you from the gods.

7- by 1am I was served with official legal notice from law enforcement to cease and dessist all nekkie dancing.

8- by 130am a judge came to the house after being woken up by the police chief due to an immediate danger to all citizens.

9- by 2am I was officially charge with animal cruelty and terrorist activites via my nudity and jiggling.

10-at 210am I entered a plea to a lesser charge and made an oath to never dance nekkie under the moon again for any reason.

11- by 230 all paperwork was notarized and filed in triplicate form, with the county clerks office, and 2 drunk wood nymphs were my witness.

12- at aproximately 305am I asked your father to summons his indian ancestors via a tribal dance

13- by 308 your father had fallen in one of the massive holes in our yard and twisted his ankle

13-b-  he landed in a pile of wood nymph puke

14- smelling like wood nymph puke and being injured, 3 drunk wood nymphs then violated your father in ways too illicet for me to speak of.

15- I beat the wood nymps off and out of your father using my bra as a sling shot and dante turds from the dirty kitty litter box as amo.

16- by 319am the wood nymphs were defeated by my ample supply of amo

17- at 325am I applied neosporin to your fathers wood nymph love bites and put him to bed

18- at 350am I placed my slingshot/bra in the washer

19- at 355am the police returned as they had a report from a pissed off armadillo that there was a domestic disturbance and possible sexual assult at this address.

20- by 415 am I had sucessfully bamboozeled the police into believe you dad is just a kinky dude and we were having fun.

21- at 420 am I quietly lit candles for you.

22- at 430 am I slipped into the tub to relax and meditate for good vibes for you.

23- at 440am I began to smell smoke

24- at 445am I began to worry about the smell of smoke

25- at 450 I convinced myself I should get out of the tub and do something about the smell of smoke

26- at 5am I came out to the family room to find ferries smoking a big fattie

27- at 510am I got out the cheetos, mt dew, recees cups and bong, and joined the ferries

28- around aproximately 530am me and the ferries got into a heavy discussion about politics and religion we were in strong disagreance but to stoked to fight

29- by 6am I thought the ferries should leave since alex would be up soon for school

30- at 610am I was escorting the ferries out a couple of wood nymphs saw me with the ferries and a big woodland mythical species gang style war broke out

31- at 620am the sun came up and all the mayham and lifeless bodies that were causalites of the woodland war just disappeared making little "poof" noises

32- at 630am alex woke up and I told him to help me pray your day would go good.

he blew out the candles, bowed his head and said, dear god, please keep my sissy safe and happy today in everything she needs,  and oh yeah, tell my mom to keep her bong in her closet.

33- I am promoting alex to the king of the prayer request club.

 

 

Hope everything is AWESOME FOR YOU MY DEAR....

 

I love you

mom

So I ask you my friends is it any wonder she changed her major to Abnormal Psychology?  She get's her bachelors in May.  I intend on keeping her busy with family stuff.

XO

PEACH OUT

* disclaimer*  I do not now, nor have ever owned a bong. Nor was my husband violated by fictional creatures.  Because if he was it would totally be on you-tube.

Back to School. Important tips you should know.

Ok so even though my little prince is rounding out his 3rd week in 4th grade and my daughter finishes her bachelors this year.I am a tad bit stabby about the entire  supply list/homework issue.  Selling organs and  dog hair on ebay has not worked well enough for me to cover their expenses.
I realize some of you are hearing the choir of angles as your short ones return to the educational system. Allowing you to cut  back on your "happy pills". ( while the teachers dosage goes up)
To help decrease the " I hate your guts" factor and possibly lessen the chances of them getting to sit all alone at a table for every lunch the rest of their lives and put kittens in a sack, I have come up with a list of DON'TS.  I love you that much.

Step 1-  Appearance is EVERYTHING.

That entire beauty is only skin deep is total bullshit, I mean what's on the inside counts on the computer and  it counts eventually but don't think for 1 second that your looks do not play a part in how you get along. Don't let your child no matter how brilliant or stylish go unmonitored by your parental common sense. Do NOT let your 7 year old daughter dress like a hooker. You're asking for major issues.  Do not let your teenagers run wild with your credit card.  You don't really want the yearbook pictures to look like this do you?

I am sure they have cute, nearly normal baby photos, maybe

Step 2- Shop Smart

When purchasing school supplies, remember your child will be around other children.  Not within the safe protective environment you provide. Somethings just automatically put your child on the sit alone at lunch list and might as well just say KICK ME IN THE FACE.   Skip these.

loving Cher and Beefcakes is  barely ok at home, but at school it just says, "throw raw meat at me"

Step 3-  Your presence.

Please remember the other kids will see you during school visits, drop offs and pick ups.  Please do NOT make these kind of images associated to your child unless that college fund you started when they were babies can be transfered into a Therapy fund.

OMG Daddy please go away, easy to spot the Grands in the car line

Luckily I live in a very rural area ( and by rural I mean armpit of the universe).  So we don't put up with things like this. Which scares me beyond belief because I never sent my kids to a SHCOOL.

Mostly because all of our roads aren't all paved and the paint we do have  is used on the water tower. Apparently Jimmy Bob loves Janie Sue.

Clues something might be wrong

But I will tell you that no matter how lazy you are, you may need to consider the car rider option or change of class request.  I know that totally messes with sleeping in and afternoon nap times but if the school bus looks something like this, or the teacher like this, honestly spare them the trauma.

if the bus looks like this, or the teacher like this, consider Private School

If you have run into any of the things on this list, fix it over the weekend.  Because really,  8 hours a day with people laughing at you is too much for anyone. Unless your a comedian and then you get paid. Then you can afford private school.
So go forth and enjoy the heck out of your weekend.  Hug your kids ( or pet) and live this weekend, don't just exist because that is just so lazy.

XO

PEACH OUT