Wednesday, July 30, 2008

It's Not Just Me, Right?

When I'm cleaning up blood, either in the house or out of clothes, I always think to myself that it doesn't really matter, because CSIs could find it anyway. And that if the CSIs were ever to come into my house with their luminol and portable UV light, I'd have some serious explaining to do. mk

(prompted by finding a single drop of blood in the middle of the bathroom floor, and also the conversation I had with Kira this morning while I was on the phone with my dad, in which I told Kira "quit making it bleed!"...after I'd been chatting away to Dad for about fifteen minutes about inconsequential topics, never mentioning that my daughter's leg looked like a prop from a horror film)

Wordless Wednesday



Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Probable Overreaction

You know the phrase "the straw that broke the camel's back?" My straw was ice cream.

My kids have been driving me CRAZY with their total irresponsibility with the house. I know, kids are kids the world over, and most of them don't understand or care that parents like to have the house looking clean and decent, and that assistance with this is not only appreciated, but very often necessary. I know, many kids don't understand that everything costs money, and they just randomly use the things they find in the house without thought to the idea that someone had to go get those things, and spend money to do it, and that money doesn't grow on trees, yada yada.

My kids have been blithely going along acting like the house is a free hotel with built-in maid service and an unlimited mini-bar, and this morning I absolutely snapped on it.

I've been attempting this morning to actually shovel through the mountains of friggin disaster that is my house. That I have received little to no help on, regardless of the number of times that I have asked or demanded help. I have been scrubbing and running up and down the stairs, and I HAPPENED across this mess.

I found, on the dining room table, amidst piles of kid crap that I had been asking to get taken care of, and a bag of clothes brought back two days ago from their father's house, a grocery bag containing an unopened container of ice cream. That had been left there since the day before. Somebody had gotten it out of the big freezer and pulled the OTHER container of ice cream out to eat some, and instead of putting this back, had just left it. And of course it was ruined.

I. Just. Snapped.

I am SO completely sick of this crap. I am sick of being treated with such incredible disrespect that they think that I have nothing better to do with my LIFE than to clean the house every day, all day, while they just leave things wherever they feel like it. I am sick of working my ass off trying to figure out how to get them tons of fashionable clothes, deals so they can have the current electronics, each have their own computer for crying out loud, and plenty of food and snacks and toys and whatever, just so they can treat it all like nothing.

I have just screamed my throat raw telling them that I deserve more in my life than this. That I have other things in my life that I could be doing. That I am just ONE person, a single mom trying to make the best life for her family, and that I'm not doing it alone anymore. I. Deserve. Better. mk

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Special Spots

Where do you go when you need to be alone?

When I was in college, every once in awhile I used to go to my parents' camp for a few days, all by myself. I would get a stash of junk food, maybe some wine coolers, and just be. I was still living at my parents' house, except when I was living in the dorm, and camp was the only time I could get some extended privacy. I just loved it. There was limited electricity, no running water, it was VERY dark at night, and very, very quiet. Awesomeness.

My mother has observed that I never do that now. My answer is, that I don't need to anymore. I have my own house. The kids are gone periodically, and I have the entire place to myself, to be silent. With a bathroom!

Another place I used to go to be alone, in smaller doses, was the ocean. I would drive down to Crockett's Beach in Owls Head, and just sit and watch and listen and breathe. It was a good place for me to think. I made the mistake of telling a boyfriend once where I went to get away, and he followed me there after a fight. I haven't gone there just to be, since.

I was asking Kira some questions the other day about life at her dad's house, especially with the new baby (he's 11 days old). At X's, Kira and her sister share a bedroom, which you can only get to by going through her dad's bedroom. Mark has his own small bedroom downstairs. The new baby is apparently sleeping in X's room for convenience's sake, and will then be moved to Kira and A's room for a few years, until he is old enough to move into Mark's room. D is a nurse and usually works the night shift, so she sleeps during the day. A still takes naps (she's three). Between D, A, and the new baby (also A...let's call him A2), Kira is pretty much never allowed in her own room, because of the risk of waking someone up.

I asked Kira where she went when she needed to be alone. She said the bathroom. But that even then, she didn't get much peace, because someone would come along and want her out.

I think it's essential that everyone has a place that they can go to be by themselves. It doesn't have to be the same place every time, but I believe that each of us *has* to know that there is a place that we can get to, to be alone with our own thoughts and feelings, where we can center ourselves and find peace.

I think that's one of the biggest things that drives new moms crazy. It's never being able to be by ourselves for any length of time. It's having someone making demands on us, 24/7, following us every single place that we go, always, never giving us a breath alone. Wherever we are, there is a little person, clinging, questioning, chasing us down. The first time I was able to go into the bathroom by myself with no kids banging on the door, asking me what I was doing and if they could come, that was a little piece of heaven.

We need a haven, a private breathing space. For many of us, we are able to carve that spot out somewhere in our homes. It might be your bedroom, or a corner of the garden, or a rocking chair in the den. It might be the morning walk that you take by yourself. Or the long drive in the country. Wherever it is, each of us should have this special space for ourselves; have it, and guard it, and keep it for ourselves. Even in a live where you share everything, you should always have something that is your own. Something, some place, where you can be entirely and utterly you. Alone.

I believe that having this sanctuary is essential for our mental health. Well, mine anyway. I need time where I am not a mother or a daughter or a friend or a neighbor or a volunteer or a patient or any other label. Where all masks fall away, where I am open and vulnerable to myself, where there are no expectations or demands. When all of this is stripped away, I can just breathe, and be.

Do you have a special spot? mk

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Love Games

This song has been stuck in my head since Mark made me watch the Old Gregg video. Mark seems to be really amused by British humor. He hasn't seen the Monty Pythons yet. Can't wait to see what he thinks of those.

Do ya love me? mk

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Progress of a Vodka Evening

Thought it might be interesting to do a free-association type of thing, whereby I just kinda type random things that pop into my head as I progress further and further into the vodka bottle.

7:45ish First very-large drink: As I am watching Friends and reading a Marion Keyes book: I am wondering if things would have been different if I had ever shared an apartment with friends, rather than just jump directly from college to a live-in/marriage (well, with a small side staying-with-my-parents/move to Alaska for a month/live-back-with-my-parents thing). Anyway. I never really had any single independence time. I think I might miss it.

Need to refill drink. And bowl of crackers.

Dammit. I just broke a cookie and crumbs have gone all down the front of my tank top. I am all crumb-y. It itches.

Some of the girls on America's Next Top Model have absolutely no breasts. Seriously, my 8-year-old DAUGHTER is more developed than they are. And I think I would be totally grossed out to see some of these girls naked. No ass AT ALL. C'mon, THIS is fashion's physical ideal? Are you kidding me????

How have I managed to go through the entire day without noticing that one of the kids pulled a fake plant halfway out into the middle of the living room? And do I need to know what they were doing behind the TV?

Is anybody else worried about this Gardasil stuff? I mean, Kira's coming up on 9, the minimum age to receive the vaccine. Do we know what possible long-term effects there are for this?? I'm very nervous about it.

I need more vodka.

9:00ish It's not looking like more vodka will happen. Feeling a bit queasy, and am very tired. Not a good combination with alcohol. I think I'm gonna end up going to bed early. Damn. I was kind of hoping for a drunk-blog. Freak. Maybe another time. damndamndamn mk

p.s. Is it just pathetic that I have no real tolerance for alcohol right now? Is it a good thing? Am I just getting old? Is there any way that I could spell alcohol right the first time that I type it? (instead of "alchohol") I need a real life.

Random Tune in My Head

Lollipop, lollipop
Oh lolly, lollylolly

For your listening pleasure. Bwahahahahaaaaa! mk

Also, a heads-up: There is vodka.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Sophisticated Automotive Repairs

More adventures with the markiramobile!

Tuesday night when I pulled up in the driveway, I discovered that the rear passenger window no longer wanted to go up. Great! And we're expecting rain and thundershowers. Just perfect. I was so irritated I couldn't do anything at all, so I just said to hell with it and left it. Hoped no critters would take a liking to the idea of hopping in overnight and pissing all through my car (that happened with X's car one time).

Yesterday, in preparation for the storms, I went out and put a black trash bag in the door so it flopped over the window. Klassy. But at least it would prevent the inside of the car from getting completely soaked. I hoped.

I had wonderful visions of trying to take the car somewhere and not being able to leave anything in the car or trunk because with the window wide open, it's kind of pointless to lock up, y'know? Fortunately my stereo has a detachable face, so I could at least thwart the stereo-burglar. OR, I could just never go anywhere, ever again. This was starting to look appealing.

This morning my dad popped in on his way to camp. He wanted to help me pull the window glass up so at least the thing was closed.

Yeah, no luck on that one. So, being experienced mechanics (oh my, I can't even type that without snorting laughter), we decided that we couldn't hurt it much more if we just took the entire door panel off and took a peek. **

So we did, and wiggled some wires to no real effect, and then dad just kind of whacked the window motor with the side of his hand.

And the freaking thing works. mk

**Strangely, this same attitude ("can't hurt, might help") is what led me to repair an XBox that we picked up pretty much free at a lawn sale, that wasn't working. I figured, what the hell, I'll take it apart (and Microsoft does NOT make that easy for you...they hide the screws under stickers and crap, so you'll be forced to take it to an authorized XBox repair place, etc etc). Took the thing apart, reseated the disk drive, and it works perfectly, has for years now. Impressed the heck out of Mark, who bragged it up to all his friends.

This is also my attitude in having fixed my washing machine on at least two different occasions. Hey, can't hurt to take the entire thing apart and just look at it, right?

Try it sometime! (disclaimer: don't try it if you're not willing to pony up for a fat repair bill if you frig it up, or unless it's something that's headed for the dump anyway)

Friday, July 04, 2008

The Girl Loves the White Board

Found on a 2-foot by 3-foot white board propped across the hallway upstairs, after the kids left on Wednesday for five days with their dad:

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Classic Mark

The most recent Classic Mark statement, last night:

"I've memorized pretty much the ENTIRE THING...except the ending...and the middle part...and, like, the beginning."

Wordless Wednesday: Popham Beach