Time To Let Go

It’s in my very nature to speak my feelings.  I don’t consider myself to be confrontational, but I have a hard time not saying what I feel, although I usually stew for a while before I let loose.  When I have tried to hold in negative feelings, it usually results in nuclear fallout.  Just ask my husband – he can tell you. 

Just recently, I’ve learned that sometimes all the talking in the world  just won’t work.  If the other person or persons doesn’t want to communicate, you can’t make them.  If they don’t care, well, then.   I came to this realization this past week.  Sometimes there’s just no more sense in trying to make a relationship work.  There is no relationship.  It should have been a sad day, but I felt a sense of freedom with only a touch of sadness. 

I’m sad mostly for my husband and kids, though they can make their own decisions.  But let’s face it – the woman of the family usually decides the way her family goes – where they vacation, who they see, etc.  If I don’t choose to go to visit certain people, Peter and the kids won’t go without me.  And I don’t choose to anymore. 

My daughter spent two hours waiting last week, for someone to show up that was supposed to want to see her.  By the time they showed up, I think she’d learned the same lesson the older three already have.  They stopped waiting years ago.  No phone call, email, or text to let anyone know they were running late.  Three hours late. My daughter is nine years old. Three hours is an eternity.

I’ll give the same communication to those people they have given to my family.  None.  My children are worth more.  My husband is worth more.  If they can’t see that, it’s their loss.

I hope that all four of my children are always secure in my love for them, and know that I love each of them individually.  They are who God made them, and that’s enough.  They are my blessings.    

Mother Son Dance

Chad and I were called on the floor for the traditional mother son dance, and that was all it took.  I started snotting and slobbering all over his pretty tux.  "You're all I've ever wanted in a son," I sob as I wipe my nose on his lapel. 

"You're the best mother I've ever had," he answers as he tries to back away.  I cling to him like a leech. 

"I'm so proud of you," I'm wailing now.

"I never knew this song was so long," he mutters.

We take a few turns as I try to get myself under control.  "You know, Mama, I'm not dead, right?  Just married?"

I sniffle and nod miserably.

"You'll even be able to see me once in a while."  He and The One That Stole My Baby live 23 miles away.  "Like every six months or so."

Pfft.  That girl don't cook.  He'll come home when he runs out of Ramen.

Rehearsal Dinner Tidbit

Some people have asked for stories about the wedding.  Well, I have one short funny for you, but it's not exactly G-rated, so you've been forewarned.

We were in line at the salad bar, quite a few people around, and my mother with her big mouth, announces that my shirt makes my boobies look big.  I took it as a compliment.

"Peter likes them," I inform her.

He was on the other side of the breakfast bar and looked up when he heard his name.  "What do I like?"

I bounced my girls a bit and gave a wiggle.  "My boobies."  He sighed and went back to fixing his salad.

It was then that I realized that my ex was standing behind me. 

~~~~~~~

It gets better.  My mother sidles over, ignoring all the outraged gasps of other patrons and leans around ex and says, "Donald says more than a handful is a waste."

The ex went to the other side of the salad bar.

My Inner Twelve Year Old

My inner twelver year old has escaped and I can't seem to lock her back up.  She keeps running her mouth and coming up with snippy things to say.  It's fun, I have to admit. 

It all started two days ago when my husband got a Facebook message from his ex-wife, asking for $5000.  Let me just say, this woman is not my favorite person.  You might think I'm the jealous type or something, but I'm really good friends with his ex-girlfriend.  It's this woman.  She's not normal.  Not normal for an ex-wife, you ask? No, not normal for a human. 

I've been married to Peter for almost 17 years, and the first ten of those I spent chanting "Let them turn 18, let them turn 18".  Then I realized the nightmare would continue, so it became "Help me survive until their 21."  Then her threats and harrassment would end, please God. Right? 

Wrong.

Now the "kids" are 23 and 24, and after a couple of years of relative silence he got this request for the paltry amount of $5000.  Well, shoot.  I have that in my back pocket.  But it won't be going into yours.

Sixteen years of keeping my mouth shut (well....I tried) sort of came out with maybe a tiny touch of sarcasm.  I responded to ex with a sweet little note (well... I tried) and "PS - it's a no".  Her response to that led me to believe she was less than pleased with me.  I guess we're not going to be bffs.  I'm heartbroken. She said I broke up their family and the kids think their dad hates them.

I'm not admitting anything here, but maybe I said that my kids know their dad loves them, so one of us did our job as a mother.  And I thought it was me.  I also hypothetically thanked her for the entertainment.

She said I couldn't further God's Kingdom because I had a small mind (at least I think that's what she said - her spelling and grammar were so bad I couldn't quite tell) and she called me petty.  Moi?  I was shocked, just shocked.  And hurt beyond words to express myself.  Well, no.

I told her since the kids were grown now, maybe she could leave my husband alone, since she was starting to look desperate. 

Then she said she paid for her kids' education instead of making them get scholarships, like I did mine.  Uhhhh...? 

I'll quote this one for you:  I'm not sure of your point regarding my children's education? (Petty much?) You're jealous because they're smart enough to get scholarships? You poor thing. Bless your heart.

So she started bothering Peter on his page, telling him to make me leave her alone.  He told her to kiss off, so now she's on my page again, threatening to tell Peter about what I'm saying to her.  Honey, he's seen every word, as have at least ten of my nearest and dearest.  It's saved in a word document and I'm trying to find a way to add it in my next book.  If it wouldn't upset Peter, I'd post ever single word on this blog, but he doesn't want to drag his kids in it. 

He may be the bigger person, but I don't have to be. 

White Tile Floors

September 2011 - "Look at those gorgeous floors!  And they'll be so easy to clean because I can see the dirt and clean it up right away."

Novermber 2011 - "The dark red walls go so well in here.  I couldn't have done that without these gorgeous floors."  I sigh in rapture.

December 2011 - "Getting a real tree may have been a mistake."

December 26th - "Burn the flipping tree."

February 2012 - "Wipe your feet unless you plan on tracking in white dirt!"

May 2012 - "The next person that steps on a blueberry just to watch in splatter... pain....Lots of pain."

Today - I've locked the kids outside until they're completely dry AND wipe all the sand off their little tootsies.  They need to come up with alternatives to getting to their rooms that don't involve walking on my white floors.