Dare I Show My Face?

I feel really guilty. Like really REALLY guilty. I’ve been away from here for so long, I’m scared to pick it up again. Honestly, I was blown away to see that I still have followers. You all deserve great big hugs for that. I don’t deserve any of you.

 

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So to catch you up – in a nutshell – I’m doing okay. Thank you to those of you who worried about my sudden disappearance. I got a little bit obsessed with Facebook (that happens to me a lot, it’s a horrible personality trait that I have) and of course the kids and the snakes and some small odd jobs and all things domestic kept me very occupied. Then in February, I got a part time job away from home. Talk about a godsend. I was seriously losing my mind just staying at home with the kids all the time. I work in advertising, (not the creative part of it, though I do a little with that) doing scheduling and analysis. I also am my boss’ secretary in a way. And I also get to do a lot of proofreading work, which is really cool. Right now I’m proofing three different books. Not fiction, but you can’t have it all, right? I love the work. I love the people. Well – most of the people, but that’s a story for another day. But even with that, I’m glad to be there. And now it’s even more of a godsend because we’ve put the kids in private school. The extra income is definitely needed now. I just realized though that now that I’m working I have to change my bio. Not totally a stay-at-home mom anymore. Dammit! Okay, I’m kidding. It’s not that big of a deal. I guess.

 

But, here I am, trying my hand at this again. I’m trying to catch up with all the blogs that I follow because good lord, there have been some major changes in the lives of those I love to read. But that guilt thing is raising it’s ugly head again because there’s no way I can catch all the way back up. I apologize. I feel like I’ve let you down. I’m going to try. Things are always crazy here, but I really feel like I need that verbal spewing where I can just say whatever I think. Goodness knows I can’t do that at home and work has lots of rules (no swearing, which I could completely understand if we were always with the public, but we’re in the back offices and rarely see the public), so I’m on full censorship there.

 

(Side note: when I searched for “guilty face” for a picture to use, this is what came up.)

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One last thing before I go. I’m attempting to change the look of it here (I know. I know…it’s not happening very fast. These things take time. Patience people! Said the least patient person on the planet.) and I’m trying to get Kat’s button to show up here. No luck yet. We’ll see what other things I can spice up around here.

 

So thank you again my loyal followers. You are the best of the blogosphere. You sure made this erratic lady feel good.

Back To The Land Of The Living

I know I’ve been gone a long time and I owe all of you a very big apology for that. I am sorry I have left you wondering where I was or why I was gone. Things have been pretty rough in my world the last few weeks and I finally feel like they are improved enough to return to the blogging world. I’ve spent my time away hiding.

 

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Hiding from life because it’s sometimes too hard to face it.

 

I’ve been spending more and more time in my own fantasy worlds. In stories that are not my own. It’s easier there. I don’t have to look truth in the face and see what’s behind his eyes. I can get lost in my books and enjoy the lives of the characters. Or I can create my own worlds and control the lives of those living in it. That’s more fun. Things rarely go wrong there. My characters have successful careers, fall in love, get married, have kids and stay in love. They don’t have to suffer the heartache and worry of real life. They don’t have to struggle to get through the day. Or feel like they just want to hide under the covers. They don’t long for a hug just so they know the other person still loves them. They don’t have to worry that the other person will leave. They don’t have the weight of knowing it’s their flaws that are pushing the other person away. It’s perfect there. I don’t ever want to leave it. I don’t want to face reality. I don’t know what to do to make it better.

 

I actually wrote that three weeks ago when I was trying to cope with everything going on. Obviously, since it’s not getting posted until now, I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t bring myself to blog because that would require me to talk about things that were going on and I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to think about my life and how it had been turned inside out. Now that things have improved, I feel like I can do it now.

 

So here it is.

 

The Sunday before my daughter’s full week of spring break was not a great day and I don’t even remember exactly why I was in a bad mood. I didn’t think I was showing the full extent of my irritation, but apparently it was more than my husband could stand. That night after the kids were in bed he told me he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to take living with my mood swings. I was devastated. To know that the man that I never thought would stop loving me was thinking about leaving me was enough to break me. I knew that it must have been bothering him for a long time for him to finally say something. Because you don’t tell your wife that if things didn’t change, the marriage would be over after just one bad day. I spent a lot of time that week crying. Just thinking about it now is making me tear up. But finally I made myself stop crying and start trying to be more positive. Start trying to not get so upset over the things the kids would do that normally make me crazy. Things were okay. Then eight days after that dreadful night, I tried calling my husband while I was at Wal-Mart. (Not the best idea in the first place because trying to get a signal in that place is like trying to get milk from a rock.) It rang and rang and then was silent. Suddenly I heard a woman’s voice saying hello. My stomach dropped and I frantically tried to ask who she was. She said hello one or two more times and after hearing nothing for thirty seconds or so the call disconnected. With new worries about my marriage, I immediately called him back and got his voice mail. I left a message and he called back a short time later. We tried to talk about the previous phone call but since I was still in Wal-Mart, I told him we would talk about it later. I called him back after I had gotten home and my son was busy eating lunch and he said he didn’t really know why I heard a woman on the line other than maybe somehow my call had been picked up on another signal. He had the whole exchange on his voice mail (that I listened to after he got home) only it was just my voice. He thought she probably couldn’t hear me and since it was his number I was calling, only I came through on the voice mail. He assured me he had not and would not cheat on me. I believe him. There has never been any reason for me to think otherwise. We’ve talked about things and I feel like we’re back on a good path. I’m working on myself and trying to tone down my displeasure. (Although I really should just start taking Prozac or something and really turn myself around!) But I’m trying to let go of my anger and frustrations; trying not to hold it in to let it continue to bug me.

 

So that’s my big sob story. Additionally, I was trying to finish work for a client so they could get their taxes done. (I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but I do bookkeeping for small businesses.) So now that I’m emotionally more stable, my work has slowed down and PTA is drawing to a close, I think I’m able to reenter the blogging world and spend time with those that I love here. I only hope you’ll have me back.

Confessional

I have a confession to make.

 

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I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I love food and I tell myself that food loves me too. When I’m feeling down (sad, lonely, angry, stressed, bored, whatever), I eat. And it’s not like I eat things that are good for me. You will not find me wrist deep in a bag of carrot sticks. No way. You’ll find me stuffing my face with comfort food. A.K.A. junk food. Brownies, chips (Cheetos especially), candy bars and whatever else I can dig up. They are like family to me. I can always count on them. I don’t know when this started or if it’s gotten worse the last few years, but this relationship has been one I have known about for quite some time now. I’ve just never really talked about it. Sometimes I feel better after I eat them. Sometimes I feel guilty. And sometimes, like now, I feel like I’ve eaten enough to feed an army. I’m uncomfortably full. Worse, I’m too full, feeling guilty, and still unhappy. They let me down. They weren’t there to make me feel better. Right now I don’t think they care more about me than any other person who eats them.

 

The reasons I’m upset don’t even matter. Part of it is just normal things that all parents have to deal with from time to time. The other half shouldn’t matter either. I keep telling myself that it’s okay. In the grand scheme of life, it doesn’t affect me at all. That I can’t have everyone like me. That I have plenty of people that do like me and they are the ones that matter. What’s ironic is I remember giving this very advice to a fellow blogger. That she shouldn’t let the people who don’t recognize her greatness get her down. That it’s their loss. Funny how the universe has a way of throwing that back in my face.

 

As a total shift in subject, the blog where I found this picture is actually pretty funny. It’s written by a nun and she’s got some spunk in that Catholic sort of way. Being a disenchanted ex-Catholic myself, I was surprised to find myself continuing to read her posts and even laughing now and again. But I guess being a nun doesn’t take away your sense of humor.

 

Remember when I talked about how the early dismissals at my daughter’s school would interfere with nap time? Yeah, it’s been fun around here. I’ve been pushing my son’s nap back until after we get her picked up and home. Unfortunately, he falls asleep on our way to the school and wakes up when I try to get him into his bed. And I haven’t been able to get him to go back to sleep. If I’m lucky, he’ll lay in bed for half and hour. So the time that I need to work on writing has turned into just enough time to start something and then turns into breaking up the verbal World War III. They don’t hit each other (usually) but bicker and argue until my three year old is crying and then my ten year old starts crying because she’s the one in trouble. You would think with that big of an age difference between them, they would get along and just play nicely. Only in my dreams does that happen. I can only imagine what the next six days are going to be like. I need to start planning plenty of activities to get them out of the house. Sigh. So if my posts don’t come out as regularly as they had been, or I don’t comment on your blogs as often, just think of me and send some patience and peace my way. I know I’m going to need it.

Beware The Wrath Of The Female Pisces

Do you like to read your horoscope? Do you read it the day before? Do you read it the same day? Or are you like me and don’t read it until months after the day has passed? It’s nothing personal against horoscopes; I like reading what they have to say. And more often than not, it seems like useful advice. (Although, they seem to be getting more and more watered down. Kinda like the fortune inside fortune cookies. “You should be able to undertake and complete anything.” Kinda broad. Or maybe it’s just my luck that gets me vague fortunes.) Anyway, the reason I don’t read them the day before or the day it is supposed to apply to actually has nothing to do with the horoscope itself. It’s actually because I like to do the crossword puzzles that are on the same page in the newspaper and I refuse to look ahead for fear of seeing an answer to a puzzle I haven’t done yet. (I know, pretty weird, right?) Then to make matters worse, I don’t the crosswords every day so I have a huge stack of newspapers patiently waiting for my attention. But I like doing it my way better because I can still glean the information from my horoscope without stressing out about what it could be trying to tell me about my day. And like I said, it’s usually more advice that could apply any day.

One that I clipped out and keep in my jewelry box is one such example.

The roadblocks on the path to romance are not big problems. They’re more like a dozen daily habits that don’t exactly engender closeness or excitement. Seize playful moments and make the most of them.

See? Anyone can use and apply that to their lives. But then over the weekend, I read my horoscope from December 20. (I wasn’t kidding when I told you I had a serious backlog of newspapers.)

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Your sign can change moods as quickly as a chameleon changes colors. But today you’ll be in a state of mind that you want to hang on to for as long as possible. External circumstances cannot change this.

I read this to my husband and he gave me a look that said, “You’re telling me!” Apparently all Pisces have mercurial moods, but in my case, it is amplified by 1,000 when I’m PMSing. A week ago Saturday was one of those days and it was not fun for anyone in this house. I could feel my moods flying all over the place like a really bad rollercoaster ride. And I’m sure my husband wanted to scream, “I want off this ride! This is not what I paid for!” I was bouncing from being fine to pissed off to tears with no real warning as to when or how the next mood would strike. Then after my three year old had gone to bed, I showed a real lack of judgment by adding wine to the mix because, “I needed to relax.”

Normally when I drink, I’m a happy drunk. (Okay, a happy buzzer because I rarely ever get drunk anymore.) I laugh and talk and am generally cheerful. Probably obnoxiously so. You know the type. The one who won’t stop talking long enough to let anyone else get in a word. (I attribute that solely to my lack of conversation any other day of the week.) The one who finds everything super funny and is always laughing and playfully touching everyone. Yeah, that’s pretty much me. (I’m totally ruining my chances of anyone wanting to go have drinks with me now, aren’t I?)

But, as I have learned, a PMSing Pisces that drinks just three glasses of wine (that might have been a bit much), turns into the pathetic, crying drunk. It all started off good because I could feel myself starting to relax and I was chatting with my husband while we watched…(what did we watch? Some form of MMA I think, but now I’m not sure.) Well, whatever was on TV. Then I started telling him I was sorry for being so difficult during the day and that I thought I must be PMSing. I could feel the tears starting to well up and before I knew what happened, I was a blubbering mess. I could have been a walking commercial for why drinking is bad. Or Midol. (Although, I’m not sure if Midol does much to help the mood swings. Does anything?) My poor husband. What he doesn’t have to put up with. Thank goodness that time of the month only comes once a month. And that drinking is not something I often indulge in. And that I married a Scorpio who is somehow fated to put up with my shit.

(As as aside, I was looking at the characteristics of Pisces in that picture. I don’t think they apply during PMS.)