WTH did you mean by that?!?

My skin is entirely too thin. I know this. My Hub will tell you this. Other people who know me will look nonchalant as they try to nod inconspicuously so they don't hurt my feelings with their vigorous agreement. I take things personally that were not meant for me. It drives my husband nuts. It drives me nuts.

My whole morning got off to a down start because someone said something that could technically be applied to me...but in all probability had nothing to do with me whatsoever. I don't think I register high enough on this person's radar to even be in mind when the comment was made. But? It still bummed me out. What the comment was about? Was something I enjoy. Something that is good for me and makes me happy.

So why do I care what other people think? Honestly? I don't know. On the whole, I like myself and am proud of the things I enjoy. Why would I let someone else bring me down? Why do I let Hub's simple questions/comments turn into a personal attack?

Hub & I had an entire "agitated discussion" because I asked him to text me after he got Boo dropped off at preschool one morning. We were only a couple days into the whole preschool thing, everyone was still adjusting, & I wanted to make sure that the daddy drop-off procedure went ok.

I may be a little overprotective. Possibly.

Hub commented that he would try to remember, but if he forgot until he was driving? Just to let me know? He's not going to text me while driving.

Um, Duh.

Why would he say that? Was he implying that I expected him to do that? Does he think that I expect him to text me immediately upon remembering under any circumstances? Why would he think I had the expectation that he should do something blatantly unsafe? I was rather offended that he thought this statement even needed to be made.

It's possible I read too much into things at times. Maybe.

I think it comes down to me being insecure. I think because I was raised by a person who did use "simple" questions as a personal attack and who thought nothing of routinely killing my darlings because she thought they were stupid. Or perhaps because she thought I was stupid.

How long does it take to let go of a conditioned mindset? Yeah, I had 19 years of conditioning, but clearly? My mother was not, and likely is not, a happy person. I would not consider her life a "success." So why do I give a damn what she thought?

Because she is my mother.

At some point? I want to let it go. I want to go about my day and not have my feelings hurt by offhand comments that have nothing to do with me. Even if they could be applied to me? Who cares? Am I happy? Am I doing what's right? Can I look my family in the eyes & be proud of who I am & how I treat them? Am I content that they know I love them? Am I content knowing they love me?

Yes?

Then fuck what anyone else thinks.

What I Love About Me

I have been given a task. I have been trying to figure myself out, what makes me tick. In doing so, it has come to my attention that I focus primarily on negative aspects of myself and of my performance in many parts of my life. I think much of this stems from the years of condescension from my mother...but I’m a grown-up now & need to move past all of this ancient history and negativity so I can get on with being happy with myself.

My task is to write about what I love about myself – with no qualifications (but, except, I think, etc.). Just the good stuff. The idea here is to think about what I like, what I’m good at and other general areas in which I don’t suck.

So, here goes...

I love that I am an intelligent woman who can take care of herself when the need arises. When shit has hit the fan, I know that I can figure my way out of the mess. I can do this on my own. Help has always been greatly appreciated, but when it doesn’t come or isn’t available? I can figure it out myself.

I love that I can make fun of myself & my shortcomings. This lightens the blow of self-criticism. I am able to take something ridiculous, embarrassing, or just plain stupid that I have done (or not done, as the case may be) and share my idiocy with others in a way that makes them - and me - laugh.

I love that I am confident in my love and vision for my kids. My husband and I have very specific principles in which we believe and wish to impart to our children. Sometimes we (often I) have to be the “bad guys” in order to teach them these principles. I am proud that even though I may feel sad about not being able to give them what they want, I still stand up to them and hold firm to our principles.

I love that I am able to apply principles that I teach my children to myself. I hate hypocrisy. I love that I will hold myself to the same standards I hold my children.

I love that I am determined. When I was left pregnant and alone for example? I handled my shit. I got a second job & began preparing for my child.

I love that I don’t just roll over & expect someone else to fix my problems.

I love that I am self-sufficient. I understand that if I were on my own? My lifestyle wouldn’t be the same, but I would survive on my own. I would be able to provide for my son and myself on my own if I had to.

I love that I am introspective. I believe that knowing oneself is critical to truly loving oneself. I also believe my introspection has helped me improve myself, making me a better person, mother, and mate.

I love that I put on weight proportionally. Those 50 pounds of baby weight that seem to have no incentive to move along? Is pretty evenly distributed. Most people would never guess there are 50 extra pounds.

I love that I’m getting the hang of cooking – for real. I’ve cooked things like chicken, pork chops, enchiladas, & steak/onion/mushroom omelets. When school is done & I have real time to dedicate to cooking? It will be on.

I love that I can “get” things in which I negligible experience – from Hub’s Role Playing Games to a job I’ve never done before. I pick up on things quickly...which is good, being that I seem to frequently get jobs in which I have zero clue what I'm doing.

I love that I can read people well. I am very empathic.

I love that I ultimately make the practical decision.

I love that my purpose in life is to help people. I love that I care enough about humanity that I want to help make it better. (I will love this more when I have figured out *how* to make it better...)

I love that I have a vivid imagination.

I love that I have come to appreciate being unique.

I love that I have been able to come up with 600ish words on what I love about myself.

This task was actually pretty tough for me...especially to do this without qualifying anything...I’m usually pretty good at ABC except that XYZ, but I’m still really terrible at 123.

Your mission, should you choose to accept, is to make your own list of what you love about yourself. We all know where we fall short. I know in excruciatingly minute detail where and how I fall short. But how much do you think about what you love?

I wish I would have....

2.) I wish I would have...describe a time when you didn't take action, but later wished you would have.

When I was 23, I worked for the post office doing data entry. I listened to books on tape all day & typed address parts. For like $15/hour. Should've been a cushy job, right? Well, people "go postal" for a reason. The management? Treats employees terribly. The bureaucracy was ridiculous and stupid. I hated that job.

Every year around August or so they would start hiring new employees to deal with the onslaught of mail that Christmas always brought. One year, they managed to hire a bunch of good-looking people. My best friend & I would scope out the new hires & amuse ourselves with the people watching. Data entry is boring, what can I say.

This was 2001, and I was about to be divorced. I had spent too long feeling like "one of the guys" instead of a wife. So, I took particular delight in the people watching that year. And there was one guy who struck me as being particularly attractive. He had dark wavy hair & stunning blue eyes. The eyes are what got me, so much so that I sent my friend out into the break room one day to see for herself. She agreed.

Every day he came in, I would watch him. He didn't seem to talk to anyone much and always left early, if the option was available. I would sit near him, but not quite next to him, because after all those years of feeling like an unattractive "one of the guys" woman, I had zero self-confidence. So, I would watch, all Lame-o stalker like. I figured out his name & discovered that his sister worked there too. Technically, she could've been his wife, but they looked too much alike, so I went with sister (which was the case).

One day as I was waiting in the hall to clock in from lunch, I realized that I was standing behind him in the mass of people waiting to clock in. He was waiting to start his shift. I had a very clear thought at that moment. Have you ever had a dream that was so vivid you almost can't tell it's a dream? That is how clear & vivid this thought was. I've had very few thoughts like this one. The thought was "if you're going to talk to him, you'd better do it now. You don't have much time." As if someone had whispered that in my ear.

I said nothing. I was too scared of being rejected.

Shortly thereafter, I noticed he wasn't at work anymore. I considered asking his sister about him, but decided against it. I'd never talked to him & never talked to her, so how dumb would I look asking her about her brother? Stalk much?

Then one day, not long after I'd noticed he was gone, there was a note on the board saying that he was dead. He had killed himself the night before.

I wish I had told him I thought he had beautiful eyes.

I'm learning...Kinda

One of the things that I'm (slowly) learning as a parent is that not all kids are created equal. Because we have recently gotten custody of my 5 year old stepdaughter, we are learning some things about having multiple children.

Now, I am an only child. The rumors you have heard about us? We are all hopelessly spoiled, attention is lavished upon us, and life is generally golden in all ways? Ok, I just threw up a little. Someone forgot to send my mother that memo. However, since I was the only kid in the house, I did not learn any of those neat multi-kid dynamics that are apparently normal sibling behaviors (Seriously, must arguing be constant???).

Also, we are adding a 5-year-old to the mix. Not the same as starting off with one, getting preggo, & adding a new baby. You get a little warm-up time for that. The sibling dynamic develops over time as the baby gets older.

The thing that really burns me though, is that the kids have the nerve to be different from one another. What works with my stepdaughter? Totally useless with my son. I am constantly fumbling the discipline ball. Constantly. A firm voice works with my stepdaughter. She fears getting in trouble, complete with trembling lip. Evil Stepmother, right here.

My son? Not so much. If I full on yell? That might slow him down, but then what do I do when he gets too used to me yelling? My babysitter had 2 volumes, on the phone bitching about her mother and/or sister and yelling. He just learned to block it out. For him? I have to take something away. I also have to explain the whole logic behind it. In detail.

They have completely different personalities and backgrounds. And having two? Is way different than just one. Especially when you have other people complicating things. Grandparents with no rules or boundaries. Mothers who emotionally torment out of selfishness - I mean, really, who tells a 5-year-old girl that her siblings are living with the devil when they are living with their father? What is this going to accomplish?? How do you explain to a 5-year-old that her mommy lies to hurt and manipulate people? That apparently, her daughter's emotional well-being rates below mommy's selfish need to emotionally torment the people who have pissed her off? These are things you just can't tell a kid about her mother - the mother that she loves with that wholehearted 5-year-old love regardless.

But I digress....

Sometimes, I feel like I've got this mommy gig down. And other times? I feel like I've just been smacked with the idiot stick. Kids should come with instructions, with chapters like "Odd Questions I Might Ask," "Challenging Bodily Functions," "Approximate Number of Times I Will Break Your Heart," "Illnesses & How Much They Will Stress You Out," and "How to Discipline Me." Seriously, is parenting really one of those things that we should be fumbling about all clueless and unprepared? Who's idea was that, anyway?

Terrific Tuesday - Take 3

Here we are again! Another Terrific Tuesday! The time when I review some of the terrific things that have happened lately! With the use of many exclamation points!!! Because this is something to be excited about!! Yeah!

This week, I am Terrifically Tickled that:
1. I have not yet thrown a kicking, screaming tantrum that I can't get my stupid blog button working.

2. I have discovered a delightfully tasty adult beverage (grasshopper) that is refreshingly minty, a really cool green, and makes both the Hub and I sweat like whores in church. Seriously. Like really cheap, dirty whores.

3. My day of crampy reckoning did not ruin my holiday weekend, but instead waited for me to return to work.

4. Despite what my son told me, I don't think he actually pooped in the grass during his preschool field trip to the pool. I don't think.

5. That I discovered at least one of the original Star Wars movies was made before my birth.

6. I discovered I had forgotten my cell phone bill before they shut it off.

7. I have forgotten only 2 loads of laundry in the washer for multiple days.

8. We did get to enjoy one day of well-behaved stepdaughter before she left for the court mandated week of no rules/boundaries/discipline "utopia" with her grandparents.

9. The cat did not become ill from gnawing on the steak leftovers he pulled from the trash.

10. That Arizona is still 2 degrees hotter than Maryland.

My glass is half-full! And, I'm only sweating like a high-class hooker here, so I'd better finish off the rest of that glass.

Why do I blog?

I got to thinking the the other day...why do I blog? I'm the introspective sort & tend to wonder why I do things. Or, I suppose, I could just be extremely narcissistic and like thinking about myself. Hmm. I'll have to think about that.

I blog for a plethora of reasons. Originally, I started this blog because writing is very therapeutic for me. I find that writing helps me sort my thoughts and emotions so I better understand what I feel and why I feel it.

Also, I wanted an outlet that was somewhat anonymous. While my husband knows about this blog (because I don't believe in keeping secrets from him), many of my frustrations and confused feelings come from family members. I don't want to create family drama while working out my feelings...or maybe venting a little frustration.

Initially, I didn't care if anyone read my blog or not, but I as I got a few readers, and better yet, a few comments, I realized that I enjoyed the interaction and feedback. I have come to enjoy the blog world, not only because of the emotional clarity writing offers me, but because I'm finding other people who know where I'm coming from, who go through some similar things, and who can also offer me new insight and perspective on things that I am going through.

I love my bloggiverse. While it creates more work for me than I really need, I love doing it. Even with one more thing to do, I feel more whole because of it.

However, I have discovered that I have become a bit of a comment whore...but that's not a bad thing, right? I mean, there are a plethora of other deep and meaningful reasons why I do this, so I little bit of comment sluttery is not bad...right?

Also? Don't hate me for starting a sentence with "however." I know it is grammatically incorrect, as are my many prepositionally ended sentences. I'm just not that anal tonight.

You'd be surprised to learn that I...

4.) People would be surprised to learn that…

I had a very educational experience when I was about 19 or 20. I learned something about myself, as I have learned many things about myself, by doing something really stupid.

When I was first dating the man that would become both a good friend as well as my ex-husband (my life is weird. Trust me. Makes for good stories, tho), he lived in an apartment in a seedy part of town. Because I was 20(ish) and worked until 11:00 at night, I would often be over at his place until 2 or 3 in the morning.

On one of those occasions, we had a spat over something. He was a bit of an insensitive boob & I was a young, emotional female. At the time, he was a smoker and I would have a cigarette if I were drinking or really angry. I was really angry.

So, I stood out in the parking lot, alone, at like 2 am smoking a cigarette while standing next to my car. I had put my purse, etc in the car & was standing next to the driver's seat with the door open...to minimize the smell of yuck getting into my car.

While smoking (slowly - I was an amateur), I noticed a guy walking around the parking lot. Being the paranoid that I am, I pulled my switchblade out of my purse, held it in my right hand, and crossed my right arm across me so my right hand and switchblade were hidden underneath my left arm.

As I was nearing the end of my cigarette, the aforementioned shifty guy wandered up to me & started talking (mumbling, really) to me. I am inherently anti-social so I was rather curt with him. He took out a cigarette & asked for a light. My lighter was in my purse & I didn't want to turn my back on him, so I handed him my cigarette to light his. This seemed to throw him off...which bugged me, so I took another drag or 2, put out the cigarette, and got in my car.

For some reason, as I sat down, I turned my head for a split second to look toward the passenger seat. When I turned back around to pull my door shut, the guy was standing there with a small revolver pointed at my head. I squeaked a little (pathetically) because the gun freaked me out. He told me to "Shhhh!" I responded by pulling out my right hand, popping the switchblade at his throat, and telling him "you get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck away!"

He looked at my knife and ran. I then proceeded to have a mild panic attack, drove to the bottom of the stairs of my then boyfriend's apartment, ran up barefoot (I'd had high-heeled boots on, which I flung off before driving the 200 yards in panic), & pounded on his door. He did not appreciate this, but relented when I told him what had happened...then went down to find the guy. He didn't find him.

I learned something interesting about myself in that moment. I learned that I'm a Goddamn idiot for standing out there by myself at 2 am. I learned that when the shit hits the fan? By instinct, I will fight. The guy wasn't prepared to shoot me (or I would be dead). I was prepared to do whatever I had to to keep him away from me. He made the smart decision. That moment simultaneously scared the absolute shit out of me, but taught me that I can handle myself when I need to. I didn't freeze. I fought. I don't know what he wanted, but it was something for which he thought he needed a gun.