Oh how time just seems to fly by. Days, weeks, and months pass in what seems like the blink of an eye.
The anniversary of my moms death came and went. I allowed myself to remember her and to hurt for that one day. Still though, her death has left me with some emotional cuts that can't quite seem to heal. Certain songs I cannot listen to, one in particular, because she once told me that it reminded her so much of me. However, I can't grieve forever. My life is full, and life is for the living.
Thomas and I continue to renovate our home and we're so very proud of the work we've put into it. For the first time we will be hosting his family for Christmas dinner this year. My heart strings tug when I think that I won't be spending Christmas with what little family I have left, but they understand. I never wanted my visits to them to come from my own self-imposed feelings of obligation, but because I want to be there with them. I can tell you though that, just as I suspected, my family just isn't the same since mom died. There is an obvious sadness there. A hole that can never be filled. Even my relationship with my sister isn't the same. I had always hoped that eventually as we both grew older our difference in age wouldn't seem so large. Maybe when I'm in my 40's and she is in her 30's things will be better, but as of right now we couldn't be any more different. This difference has created a rift between us and I'm not sure if that rift can ever be bridged.
If there is one thing I took away from the entire clusterfuck that was my mothers untimely death it is this: I can handle anything that life throws at me. I am good with crisis. I thrive on it actually. When Thomas and I both lost ours jobs I did not panic. Panic over losing a job? Pffft. Please. That was nothing compared to what I've dealt with in the past. When a project we are working on seems like it's never going to ever turn out like we wanted, do I throw a hissy fit and wash my hands of it? Nope. Take a few steps back, give it a day to think it through, and then find a solution. I seem to have found a calmness within myself that I didn't think I was capable of. I can be abrasive, I can be quick tempered, but it's almost as if nothing else can top the trauma of ultimately signing my mother's life away. Mom dying made me a better person, I am almost certain of it. While I still have difficulty in accurately expressing the myriad of feelings that came from her death, I know that I have grown as an individual. My mother was never the maternal type, nor did she ever have the patience to educate her children on major life lessons. My grandmother did that for her. Cooking, cleaning, driving, paying bills, being an adult - that education came from my grandmother. But I will always and forever give my mother credit for two things: She taught me how sell products and manage a business. And with her death she taught me that I am so much stronger than I had ever really given myself credit for. I will always be grateful to her for that.
So as I said, life goes on. Whether we want it to or not. You can either lay down and cry about it yet accomplish nothing, or you can put your big girl panties on and enjoy the time we have on this planet. I choose to embrace the lessons from the past, and live my life to the fullest.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Friday, November 9, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
Part Two
As soon as I touched down in Kansas City I turned my phone on. The entire way I was praying for a miracle, that I would land and everything would magically be okay. Instead it was texts from my sister, begging me to hurry HURRY, get here now. I sent out a flurry of messages to Thomas and my sister and friends, letting them know I made it.
I stepped outside to grab the rental car shuttle and I was immediately shocked at the temperature difference. I left Dallas in the early morning darkness, but it wasn't cold. I landed in the midwest in the beginning of fall in shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops. I immediately gave myself a pat on the back for grabbing a light jacket before I left the apartment. Funny enough, I really didn't think I would need it. I was using it for bag filler seeing as how I had barely packed anything. I pretty much lived in that jacket over the next several days.
I was getting texts from my sister asking me how far away I still was, asking me when I thought I would be there. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that life support doesn't quit on it's own, there would be plenty of time. I made my way to the hospital and my sister told me that my grandmother would meet me outside and take me to mom. I parked the car and psyched myself up just to step out and walk toward that place. As I started towards the entrance I saw my grandmother's van parked in front. She was in it and I could hear her voice talking to someone. I walked up to the car and when she saw me I thought for a minute that she had seen a ghost. She wasn't startled, but it was like she didn't believe me when I told her I was getting on a plane. That just 8 hours before this moment I was talking to her on a phone 500 miles away and now I was standing in front of her. She was on the phone with her husband and she sucked her breath in and said, "Honey I have to go. She's here. My support system is here." She snapped her old-school flip phone shut and embraced me like she hadn't seen me in years. She cried and cried and I hugged her back, willing every bit of whatever strength I had left to her so that we could get through this together.
We chatted on the way inside. Up the few floors, around a few corners, and suddenly we're inside the ICU. Beeps and breathing machine noises all around me. Other families huddled in their loved ones rooms, trying to make sense of whatever it was they were going through. Your curiosity suddenly gets the best of you and I tried to not look into each room, somehow attempting to respect what little bit of privacy the person in that bed has left. And then I was standing in her room, seeing my mother for the first time. My sister walked over to me and I lost it. I put my arms around her and sobbed. A low, gutteral sobbing that comes from the depths of the soul. The sob that you have no control over.
I looked at my mom and was surprised at how good she looked. I was expecting so much worse. Her head was bandaged in white gauze, thin tubes in her mouth, her chest moved up and down along with the rhythm of the breathing machine. I touched her hands, just to feel them and they were cold to the touch. I pulled my hand back slowly as the realization hit that she really was gone. People who are alive don't feel like that. The body was still working, the mind, the soul, whatever she had in her that made her who she was was gone. Now it was just a matter of time before they would tell us that there was no longer any point in waiting for a change. That point in time would come quickly.
- - - - - - - - - -
Throughout the course of the morning more people came to the hospital. My ex-stepfather, my godmother and her husband. We all made our way around that hospital room and then would shuffle outside when we needed a break from just sitting there. I would have several moments with my grandmother in which we would discuss what our next steps should be. Wait for the doctor to tell us all hope is lost. Make phone calls. Will there be a funeral? No, no funeral. Cremation, private burial next to grandpa, she wouldn't want that. Hell WE don't want that. I can't face those people. I can't continue to tell the same story and hear the same sympathies over and over again. I can't do it. Neither can you, Gramma. No, no funeral.
It was sometime in the late morning when one of my uncle's texted me to tell me that he had contacted my other uncle. My uncle that I hadn't seen in ten years. My uncle that had stopped speaking to all of us after my mother had filled his head with lies during one of her drunken binges. I was shocked when he stepped into the room. He looked down at his big sister lying in that bed and I saw the tears stream down his face. He looked at my grandmother sitting beside me and said, "Mom". "Well hi, Son!" she said. He hugged her and they cried and I cried and the ICU nurse who had been punching codes into a monitor looked over at the scene and I saw her cry. It was one of the most precious moments I had ever witnessed in my life. Mother and child holding each other in grief mixed with happiness over their reunion. Even during this most horrific moments in our lives there was this beauty of seeing these two together again. All the past forgotten, never to be mentioned again.
I told them to go outside, have a talk. It would be okay, I would stay with mom. So there we were, just mom and I. I sat in the chair near her bed and listened to the quiet. If you had ever known my mother you would know within 30 seconds of meeting her that she never shut up. Like, ever. Even in her sleep there was some noise coming out of her mouth. But here she was, silent and peaceful. I took those moments to remember everything I could about the way she looked. From her thin lips, to how freckled her chest was after so many years of sunbathing. I noticed she wasn't wearing her jewelry, the jewelry she always wore and never took off. I made a mental note to ask someone about that later. I looked at her fingers and remembered how thin and long they were. I winced at the traces of blood that were visible on her hands. I looked at her legs and then to her feet. Dear God in Heaven, her feet. She would be the absolute first to tell you that she had the most ugly feet God had ever given to a human being, and she would be right. They weren't pretty, especially today. They were dirty, but I didn't know at the time where it had come from. Her toes were painted though. Even though the paint was chipped and worn and you could tell that she hadn't painted them in a couple of weeks, the red polish was still there. My mother's signature color was red and her toes were always painted the same color. A deep and rich fire engine red. If you knew my mother you would know that the color suited her personality quite well.
As I sat there all I could think in my head was how badly she needed a pedicure.
- - - - - - - - - - -
It was around 5 that night that we were told that more tests needed to be run. Brain functioning level types of tests. It was probably for the best that we all go home and rest. The family of sleep deprived zombies standing around a bed could do nothing for the cause. Go home. So we did.
We went to the house my grandmother had shared with my mother. We sat and we waited. Waited for anything. Never wanting that phone call though. The one that says there's nothing else we can do for her. We got the phone call at 8:30PM.
"She's taken a turn for the worse. The brain is no longer functioning. We think it would be best to come back so we can discuss your options. I'm so sorry."
My grandmother and I headed back to the hospital, holding hands, and knowing that this was going to be what we all had been dreading. We were going back to say our goodbyes.
I stepped outside to grab the rental car shuttle and I was immediately shocked at the temperature difference. I left Dallas in the early morning darkness, but it wasn't cold. I landed in the midwest in the beginning of fall in shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops. I immediately gave myself a pat on the back for grabbing a light jacket before I left the apartment. Funny enough, I really didn't think I would need it. I was using it for bag filler seeing as how I had barely packed anything. I pretty much lived in that jacket over the next several days.
I was getting texts from my sister asking me how far away I still was, asking me when I thought I would be there. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that life support doesn't quit on it's own, there would be plenty of time. I made my way to the hospital and my sister told me that my grandmother would meet me outside and take me to mom. I parked the car and psyched myself up just to step out and walk toward that place. As I started towards the entrance I saw my grandmother's van parked in front. She was in it and I could hear her voice talking to someone. I walked up to the car and when she saw me I thought for a minute that she had seen a ghost. She wasn't startled, but it was like she didn't believe me when I told her I was getting on a plane. That just 8 hours before this moment I was talking to her on a phone 500 miles away and now I was standing in front of her. She was on the phone with her husband and she sucked her breath in and said, "Honey I have to go. She's here. My support system is here." She snapped her old-school flip phone shut and embraced me like she hadn't seen me in years. She cried and cried and I hugged her back, willing every bit of whatever strength I had left to her so that we could get through this together.
We chatted on the way inside. Up the few floors, around a few corners, and suddenly we're inside the ICU. Beeps and breathing machine noises all around me. Other families huddled in their loved ones rooms, trying to make sense of whatever it was they were going through. Your curiosity suddenly gets the best of you and I tried to not look into each room, somehow attempting to respect what little bit of privacy the person in that bed has left. And then I was standing in her room, seeing my mother for the first time. My sister walked over to me and I lost it. I put my arms around her and sobbed. A low, gutteral sobbing that comes from the depths of the soul. The sob that you have no control over.
I looked at my mom and was surprised at how good she looked. I was expecting so much worse. Her head was bandaged in white gauze, thin tubes in her mouth, her chest moved up and down along with the rhythm of the breathing machine. I touched her hands, just to feel them and they were cold to the touch. I pulled my hand back slowly as the realization hit that she really was gone. People who are alive don't feel like that. The body was still working, the mind, the soul, whatever she had in her that made her who she was was gone. Now it was just a matter of time before they would tell us that there was no longer any point in waiting for a change. That point in time would come quickly.
- - - - - - - - - -
Throughout the course of the morning more people came to the hospital. My ex-stepfather, my godmother and her husband. We all made our way around that hospital room and then would shuffle outside when we needed a break from just sitting there. I would have several moments with my grandmother in which we would discuss what our next steps should be. Wait for the doctor to tell us all hope is lost. Make phone calls. Will there be a funeral? No, no funeral. Cremation, private burial next to grandpa, she wouldn't want that. Hell WE don't want that. I can't face those people. I can't continue to tell the same story and hear the same sympathies over and over again. I can't do it. Neither can you, Gramma. No, no funeral.
It was sometime in the late morning when one of my uncle's texted me to tell me that he had contacted my other uncle. My uncle that I hadn't seen in ten years. My uncle that had stopped speaking to all of us after my mother had filled his head with lies during one of her drunken binges. I was shocked when he stepped into the room. He looked down at his big sister lying in that bed and I saw the tears stream down his face. He looked at my grandmother sitting beside me and said, "Mom". "Well hi, Son!" she said. He hugged her and they cried and I cried and the ICU nurse who had been punching codes into a monitor looked over at the scene and I saw her cry. It was one of the most precious moments I had ever witnessed in my life. Mother and child holding each other in grief mixed with happiness over their reunion. Even during this most horrific moments in our lives there was this beauty of seeing these two together again. All the past forgotten, never to be mentioned again.
I told them to go outside, have a talk. It would be okay, I would stay with mom. So there we were, just mom and I. I sat in the chair near her bed and listened to the quiet. If you had ever known my mother you would know within 30 seconds of meeting her that she never shut up. Like, ever. Even in her sleep there was some noise coming out of her mouth. But here she was, silent and peaceful. I took those moments to remember everything I could about the way she looked. From her thin lips, to how freckled her chest was after so many years of sunbathing. I noticed she wasn't wearing her jewelry, the jewelry she always wore and never took off. I made a mental note to ask someone about that later. I looked at her fingers and remembered how thin and long they were. I winced at the traces of blood that were visible on her hands. I looked at her legs and then to her feet. Dear God in Heaven, her feet. She would be the absolute first to tell you that she had the most ugly feet God had ever given to a human being, and she would be right. They weren't pretty, especially today. They were dirty, but I didn't know at the time where it had come from. Her toes were painted though. Even though the paint was chipped and worn and you could tell that she hadn't painted them in a couple of weeks, the red polish was still there. My mother's signature color was red and her toes were always painted the same color. A deep and rich fire engine red. If you knew my mother you would know that the color suited her personality quite well.
As I sat there all I could think in my head was how badly she needed a pedicure.
- - - - - - - - - - -
It was around 5 that night that we were told that more tests needed to be run. Brain functioning level types of tests. It was probably for the best that we all go home and rest. The family of sleep deprived zombies standing around a bed could do nothing for the cause. Go home. So we did.
We went to the house my grandmother had shared with my mother. We sat and we waited. Waited for anything. Never wanting that phone call though. The one that says there's nothing else we can do for her. We got the phone call at 8:30PM.
"She's taken a turn for the worse. The brain is no longer functioning. We think it would be best to come back so we can discuss your options. I'm so sorry."
My grandmother and I headed back to the hospital, holding hands, and knowing that this was going to be what we all had been dreading. We were going back to say our goodbyes.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
A New Year
Amazingly enough, December was a good month. Did my entire office get laid off in which we all simultaneously panicked? Yes. But after a few days of trying to figure out just what in the FUCK we were going to do now it all seemed to calm down. We all took a breath and looked for other employment. We all found it...eventually. I was the first, of course. Like there was any doubt in anyones mind about that. I can't handle NOT working. It's not me. It's not how I operate. I did take the entire month to finally make my decision and chose to start the beginning of the new year. A new year, a new job. Funny enough it's the exact same job I had before. Same company even. Just a different environment. It's taken some getting used to but it seems to have smoothed itself out nicely.
I miss my friends though. My boys. The ones I've spent the last nine years with. I've been there for marriages, new homes, births of their children. They made me laugh. I don't laugh as much now.
We spent Christmas in Missouri. Moving my grandmother was challenging, but it kept us from remembering. At least for the majority of the time. I teetered between ambivalence and anger. There wasn't sadness. The goal was to get my grandmother moved, get her comfortable, and then get the hell out of town. We accomplished it nicely. I spent Christmas Eve with my father's side of the family. That sentence still blows my mind. Many years I did not even think about those people, and now they're in our lives. Life is strange.
New Year's was spent at home. Just Thomas and I. It was better than any fancy dinner or drunken party. It was just us. I wanted the year to finally end and it did. The year that I couldn't imagine getting any worse. The year that kicked me square in the ass and then had the nerve to laugh at me. But it's all over now and now we move on.
I turned another year older this week. I didn't want to think about it but for a brief moment I was sad when I remembered that she wouldn't be calling me. There would be no birthday card from her. The moment passed when I remembered that one year that she forgot my birthday. She was too busy being a drunk.
Her loose ends are, for the most part, tied up. The burdens that were hanging over my head for so long are practically gone now. I know it changed me though. Permanently changed me. It's not bitterness, it's reality. I'm okay with my reality. I look forward to putting last year behind me and moving forward. Take all the bad I was given and turn it in to good this year. Learn from my mistakes and grow from it. Prove to anything and anyone that I am better for it all in the end. We all are.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
A Hint Of Light
I made it through Thanksgiving with just a few fleeting moments of sadness. I sat in the dining room, swirling a glass of wine, and thought of Thanksgivings from the past. Trying to remember a Thanksgiving with my mother. Funny enough, I couldn't. I have several memories burned into my brain but not a single one of them contain my mother. My grandmother is the only person I can recollect from those times. Her in the kitchen at dawn, already starting on the cooking for the large group of people she was expecting later in the day. Her homemade bread dough laying underneath damp dish towels, rising, telling me to hurry up and close the back door as to not let the cold air in the warm humid room. Her rushing at the last minute to take time for herself to get ready before every one walked in the door. The house spotless, smelling like roasted turkey and every pie you can possibly imagine. The day before she and I would clean the house and while she made the next days desserts I would polish the dining room table and chairs. Her mother's antique table cloth, ironed and beautiful, was the final touch. The day after Thanksgiving wasn't for shopping in my family, it was for pulling out the Christmas decorations. For three days her and I would put up the 9 foot tall tree, decorate the house from top to bottom, and my grandfather would do every thing in his power to put as many Christmas lights on the outside of the house as humanly possible.
Thanksgiving for me isn't about family or even giving thanks. For me it was about that time I spent in the kitchen with my grandmother. Watching her move effortlessly around the kitchen. Never once pulling out a cook book but remembering how to make a dozen different dishes from memory. The warmth of the kitchen from the oven having been on constantly since the day before. Her and I talking about everything and her trying to instill in me some sort of culinary skill that I really never retained.
This Thanksgiving I thought of her, and I was sad for her. Not because I wasn't there with her on that day but because I knew that her mind was filled with her own memories and her own sadness. I was sad because I could feel her grief from 500 miles away.
She told me this week that come hell or high water she was planning to move in December. I figured that would put us in Missouri right around Christmas time, to help her finish packing, and to help her move. Getting her moved and settled will be the last major hurdle to overcome. Of the two hurdles already jumped this should be the easiest one. Easier than deciding to turn off the machines and easier than burying. As Thomas said to me, "This is a light at the end of the tunnel." He's right, it is. The physical portion of this death is finally coming to a close, but it's the emotional part that I'm almost certain I haven't sprinted past yet. Keeping my brain and my body occupied with other things can only help me for so long. At some point I'm going to have to grieve and then let go.
A part of me thinks my grandmother chose to move in December to keep herself occupied as well. Stay busy with other things so as to "forget" that Christmas is upon us. A holiday that to me does mean family. A holiday that meant all of us being together in the living room, each opening one gift at a time. A loud crazy night filled with love. Those are the memories that make my heart hurt more than I could ever describe. The memories of how just a few short years ago I took Thomas "home" for Christmas and he was absolutely blown away with how overwhelmingly Christmas-y everything was. I am so grateful for that. So very grateful for that particular night to be so alive in my mind. The night I cried with laughter and cried with happiness. For the diamond stud earrings Thomas gave me that I had been wanting for so long. For the ring my mom surprised me with. The ring my father had given her when he asked her to marry him. And mostly because she finally believed it was time for me to have it. I had become enough of a "grown-up" to have it and as I cried she cried and she hugged me and told me she loved me. In my heart I know there will never be another Christmas like one. It can't be recreated. But there will be other Christmas', full of love and family and new traditions. I will always think of her though. I will always remember the look on her face, the look of pure joy, when she saw my surprise at receiving the ring. She was so happy.
One holiday down, one more to go. This year all I want for Christmas is for it to be over with.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Goodbye
Dear Mom,
I'm just so angry and hurt. Why did you put all of this on us? The people who loved you most. We almost never got along, but I thought it was getting better. Then it stopped.
The last time I heard your voice I yelled at you in anger. I called you a liar. I'm sorry that I never got the chance to say goodbye to you. I'm sorry that the last thing I said to you was not "I love you" but was said out of anger and frustration. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. And most importantly I'm sorry that I couldn't take away your pain.
Thank you for giving me life. Thank you for putting a roof over my head. Thank you for passing on your good traits to me. And thank you for the relief you brought to me and to Gramma today.
I didn't think this would be so hard, but it is.
I hope you're finally at peace and that your demons no longer haunt you. And I hope that one day I can finally make sense of all of this.
I love you and I always have. I hope you know that.
Goodbye, Mom.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Mother
I respect my mother.
She is the hardest working woman I have ever known. She can sell anything, and all while making you think she's giving you the best deal you've ever heard in your life but still getting her piece of the pie. She will go to extraordinary lengths to help her family. She would give her blood to provide financial comfort to a person she loves. I know this because she has in the past.
She is 51 years old and sleeps about four hours a day but she has as much energy as a 5 year-old who just ate a half dozen pixie sticks. She can run circles around me, and she never stops.
She can carry on a conversation with anybody about anything. She is intelligent. She is funny. She is capable of charming the pants off of you. Literally.
Her and I never had a typical mother/daughter relationship. That still hasn’t changed. That connection was never there and I realize now that it’s not her fault and it’s not my fault. We just weren’t designed that way. We weren’t meant to be mother and daughter, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.
I spent six days in Las Vegas with her. Six days watching her, talking to her, and more importantly, listening to her. I needed that week with her more than I ever knew. I learned more about her in six days than I had learned in the last 30 years. She learned a lot about me as well. I am no longer the child and she is no longer the guardian. I am an adult with thoughts and opinions that are different from her. I am an individual. Molded in some ways by my genetic connection to her, molded in other ways by my own personal experiences in life. I am no longer the person she cannot relate to. I am now the person that she confides in.
I am proud of my mother.
She has over come the obstacles of life and has come out on the other side with a positive outlook on life. I used to resent her for decisions she made, and now I understand why. My resentment is gone and it’s as if a thousand pounds has been lifted from my soul.
Until just a few weeks ago I never knew these things about her. I mean I DID know but I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand. I understand now.
I love my mother.
I have waited 30 years to say that, and truly mean it.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Random
For my birthday back in January Thomas had given me a gift certificate to a local spa for a full day of pampering. I finally got around to using it this past weekend and I was absolutely blown away. I was massaged, and hydrated, and styled, and manicured until I couldn't hardly stand it. There's only so much relaxation I can take before I feel like a corpse.
My weight-loss goal is still going rather well. I say that even though I haven't really lost any weight in the month of July. I'm still about where I was at the end of June even with three weekends in a row of fatty eating. What can I say? I love food. It's like I work my ass off all week just for the chance to relax and not eat like a rabbit on the weekends. I'll take it for now, but something is going to have to change in the near future because at this point it's like I'm running in place, and after a while that gets really old.
Last weekend I received a private message on Face.book from a cousin. Apparently my father had been trying to get a hold of me and wasn't having much luck. All of my numbers had been disconnected and I wasn't listed in the directory. Whoops. See, he would've known that my cell had changed if he had called in the last two years because I had a home phone up until January of this year. He didn't know my number because the last time I had spoken to him was when I called him in April of '08 to let him know that I was getting divorced and moving. Yes, I should've called him back in September to let him know I was getting married, but I didn't. It didn't matter, he wouldn't have come to the wedding anyways.
I'm pretty ambivalent about my father. He's a decent man, a hard worker, and an upstanding citizen. He votes, pays his taxes, and doesn't have a criminal record. He's a good person, he's just a terrible father. I realized this years ago when it was me who was always calling him, or stopping by his house. Eventually I stopped calling as much, and then I moved to Dallas and never saw him. The last time I set eyes on the man was January 3, 2002. He was wearing a black suit and a bad tie. It was the day he buried his own father. A man that he was close to, but never emotionally. My father's family doesn't show much emotion. They don't tell each other that they love each other. They don't hug. Their idea of being there for each other is helping someone replace a starter in an old car, or getting together for a BBQ. When I was a child this baffled me, but as I got older I just got used to it. Always remembering that affection and love was shown freely with my mom's family, but a pat on the back and a smile was good enough with my dad's family. To each their own.
The last time my father contacted me himself was to tell me that my grandfather had died. The reason he was trying to contact me last week was because my great-aunt had died. A very sweet woman who I remember being old even when I was a child. I was surprised that she had made it this long. When he told me I can honestly say I felt nothing. While I'm sad that someone has passed away I felt no emotional connection to her, but instead I felt more sad for my father. A man who is rapidly aging, who has no other children, and isn't on the path to have a connection to his only child. I have convinced myself that he never really wanted to be a father. While my mother or grandmother would never tell me that, it's not that hard to figure out. My father contested the divorce with my mother three times. All over a projection television and some furniture. He never gave issue to my mother wanting sole custody of me. He paid his $210 a month in child support for 15 years and moved on with his life. While some people may have a problem with this, I don't. That was the path he chose in his life. Though a part of me is sad that we will never be close, I'm not 100% sure I would even know how to begin to have an adult father/daughter relationship with him. Too much time has passed. He doesn't really know me, and I don't really know him. I did give him my new cell number and my new address. He did tell me that he would make more of an effort to call me, but I don't hold my breath. If he calls I will talk to him. If he doesn't call then I'll expect my annual Christmas card from his sweet wife. She's the one who always signs them 'Love, Dad & Di'.
I am constantly amazed at how petty adults can be. Specifically women. Jealousy and envy can be incredibly nasty feelings. When my friends have something wonderful happen to them and they feel like they can share it with me I am SO happy for them. I think every one of my friends deserves to be happy and to have wonderful things given to them. Unfortunately, some people are constantly unsatisfied with their lives and feel the need to be spiteful.
I recently had a "friend" disappear on Face.book. I had noticed she hadn't posted anything that showed up in my news feed so I went looking for her. She was completely gone from my friends list, and wasn't showing up on mutual friend's lists either. Concerned that something had happened to her I sent her a text, with no response. The next day I noticed that she had left a comment on a mutual friend's status and was totally shocked. I realized that she de-friended me. No notice, no message, nothing from her. The next day I received a text back from her number letting me know that it was her husband's phone now but that he would pass the message along that I was concerned about her. Within minutes of the text she sent me a friend request with a short note stating that she had deleted people that she "never talked to anymore". I thought that was strange seeing as how I comment regularly on her status'. After re-friending her I went to her profile and was hit by a couple of status' that shocked me. One talking of envy, the other talking of how she wished that she could do something that I had mentioned I was doing in a status the previous week. Maybe it's conceited for me to think this, but personally I believe she is jealous of me. This just made me both incredibly sad and incredibly pissed off. Here I was, texting her telling her I was concerned about her disappearing, when in reality she had de-friended me out of jealousy! I don't post shit on Face.book to brag. I do it because I am happy and I want to share my happiness with people that I care about. Do other people have things that I don't have and want? Hell yes! But I compliment them and I am happy for them. I don't de-friend them out of petty jealousy.
This weekend was the two year anniversary of Thomas and I meeting. In celebration of this we bought each other a gift and had a wonderful dinner out with his parents and our friends. I posted a photo of the gift Thomas had gotten me, and this so-called friend's response just reeked of disgust for me and my "pampered princess" ways.
I've made more of an effort to be more vocal on her status'. Even when I don't have much to say. Obviously she's lonely and is wanting attention, but I absolutely REFUSE to stop sharing happy moments in my life just because of someones jealousy. I love my life, and dammit I plan to share it.
My weight-loss goal is still going rather well. I say that even though I haven't really lost any weight in the month of July. I'm still about where I was at the end of June even with three weekends in a row of fatty eating. What can I say? I love food. It's like I work my ass off all week just for the chance to relax and not eat like a rabbit on the weekends. I'll take it for now, but something is going to have to change in the near future because at this point it's like I'm running in place, and after a while that gets really old.
Last weekend I received a private message on Face.book from a cousin. Apparently my father had been trying to get a hold of me and wasn't having much luck. All of my numbers had been disconnected and I wasn't listed in the directory. Whoops. See, he would've known that my cell had changed if he had called in the last two years because I had a home phone up until January of this year. He didn't know my number because the last time I had spoken to him was when I called him in April of '08 to let him know that I was getting divorced and moving. Yes, I should've called him back in September to let him know I was getting married, but I didn't. It didn't matter, he wouldn't have come to the wedding anyways.
I'm pretty ambivalent about my father. He's a decent man, a hard worker, and an upstanding citizen. He votes, pays his taxes, and doesn't have a criminal record. He's a good person, he's just a terrible father. I realized this years ago when it was me who was always calling him, or stopping by his house. Eventually I stopped calling as much, and then I moved to Dallas and never saw him. The last time I set eyes on the man was January 3, 2002. He was wearing a black suit and a bad tie. It was the day he buried his own father. A man that he was close to, but never emotionally. My father's family doesn't show much emotion. They don't tell each other that they love each other. They don't hug. Their idea of being there for each other is helping someone replace a starter in an old car, or getting together for a BBQ. When I was a child this baffled me, but as I got older I just got used to it. Always remembering that affection and love was shown freely with my mom's family, but a pat on the back and a smile was good enough with my dad's family. To each their own.
The last time my father contacted me himself was to tell me that my grandfather had died. The reason he was trying to contact me last week was because my great-aunt had died. A very sweet woman who I remember being old even when I was a child. I was surprised that she had made it this long. When he told me I can honestly say I felt nothing. While I'm sad that someone has passed away I felt no emotional connection to her, but instead I felt more sad for my father. A man who is rapidly aging, who has no other children, and isn't on the path to have a connection to his only child. I have convinced myself that he never really wanted to be a father. While my mother or grandmother would never tell me that, it's not that hard to figure out. My father contested the divorce with my mother three times. All over a projection television and some furniture. He never gave issue to my mother wanting sole custody of me. He paid his $210 a month in child support for 15 years and moved on with his life. While some people may have a problem with this, I don't. That was the path he chose in his life. Though a part of me is sad that we will never be close, I'm not 100% sure I would even know how to begin to have an adult father/daughter relationship with him. Too much time has passed. He doesn't really know me, and I don't really know him. I did give him my new cell number and my new address. He did tell me that he would make more of an effort to call me, but I don't hold my breath. If he calls I will talk to him. If he doesn't call then I'll expect my annual Christmas card from his sweet wife. She's the one who always signs them 'Love, Dad & Di'.
I am constantly amazed at how petty adults can be. Specifically women. Jealousy and envy can be incredibly nasty feelings. When my friends have something wonderful happen to them and they feel like they can share it with me I am SO happy for them. I think every one of my friends deserves to be happy and to have wonderful things given to them. Unfortunately, some people are constantly unsatisfied with their lives and feel the need to be spiteful.
I recently had a "friend" disappear on Face.book. I had noticed she hadn't posted anything that showed up in my news feed so I went looking for her. She was completely gone from my friends list, and wasn't showing up on mutual friend's lists either. Concerned that something had happened to her I sent her a text, with no response. The next day I noticed that she had left a comment on a mutual friend's status and was totally shocked. I realized that she de-friended me. No notice, no message, nothing from her. The next day I received a text back from her number letting me know that it was her husband's phone now but that he would pass the message along that I was concerned about her. Within minutes of the text she sent me a friend request with a short note stating that she had deleted people that she "never talked to anymore". I thought that was strange seeing as how I comment regularly on her status'. After re-friending her I went to her profile and was hit by a couple of status' that shocked me. One talking of envy, the other talking of how she wished that she could do something that I had mentioned I was doing in a status the previous week. Maybe it's conceited for me to think this, but personally I believe she is jealous of me. This just made me both incredibly sad and incredibly pissed off. Here I was, texting her telling her I was concerned about her disappearing, when in reality she had de-friended me out of jealousy! I don't post shit on Face.book to brag. I do it because I am happy and I want to share my happiness with people that I care about. Do other people have things that I don't have and want? Hell yes! But I compliment them and I am happy for them. I don't de-friend them out of petty jealousy.
This weekend was the two year anniversary of Thomas and I meeting. In celebration of this we bought each other a gift and had a wonderful dinner out with his parents and our friends. I posted a photo of the gift Thomas had gotten me, and this so-called friend's response just reeked of disgust for me and my "pampered princess" ways.
I've made more of an effort to be more vocal on her status'. Even when I don't have much to say. Obviously she's lonely and is wanting attention, but I absolutely REFUSE to stop sharing happy moments in my life just because of someones jealousy. I love my life, and dammit I plan to share it.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Things I Learned While on Vacation
1. Never ever take a cruise in the dead of winter. My luck is such that an unusual cold snap will take over most of the country and our counterparts to the South. This makes for cold road trips, cold ocean water, and choppy water conditions.
Also, I am apparently prone to sea-sickness when on a boat that rocks back and forth like me on a drunken binge.
Note the jackets on and red tipped noses. We may be on a boat but we're freezing our asses off.
2. There's always a reason why something is just a tad too cheap. I swear to the sweet baby Jesus himself being on that ship was like being in a floating Walmart for five days. Babies screaming, kids running, horribly ugly women walking around in their housecoats and slippers. It was like all the trailer parks in Texas got together on one ship to ravage the all-you-can-gorge buffet and take part in the embarrassing karaoke version of "My Humps". The food on the ship was incredibly "meh" and it was more about quantity rather than quality. Then again after seeing how some of my fellow cruisers were wolfing down the food like it was their last day on earth I wouldn't be surprised if there was an emergency case of Wolf Brand chili and hotdogs somewhere hidden just in case we ran out of food and the hungry hillbilly natives got restless.
Thomas enjoying one of the more finer foods on board the ship - soft serve ice cream FTW!
3. After a full and sickening day at sea getting off the ship and getting drunk with strangers is glorious. Also, duty free shopping is one of my new favorite past-times. Buying Mexican Camel Lights for $15.00 a carton made me shed a tear of happiness.
At this particular beach break the Coronas were "all-you-can-drink", so I did.
4. We may be a bunch of white people but we can sure as shit shake a tail feather when we're three sheets to the wind.
5. Towel creatures are fucking creepy.
6. Cruise booze is expensive. A bucket of four beers will cost you a whopping $22.00. $22.00! For FOUR BEERS! A MaiTai will run you about $8.75 and a double Jack and Coke will require you to give up your first born. However, taking photos of yourself with those little umbrellas behind your ears is priceless and extremely hilarious, when you're drunk.
7. After spending hundreds upon hundreds of dollars in booze on the ship when they offer you free drinks for an hour TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT.
8. I am the motherfucking QUEEN of the self-portrait.
9. The more the merrier. I love my husband, I love my in-laws, and I love my friends. This vacation was just what the doctor ordered for all of us. Were there some rough times on the trip? Sure, if you count the sea sickness and the horrible food and the cold and the cabin fever. But in the end we all made each other laugh. We all had a fabulous time. In fact, we were having such a fabulous time that we ended up adopting more people into our group who saw how much fun WE were having and just had to join us. What can I say? We're likable people.
10. No matter what, sunny beach breaks with unlimited drinks makes everything a-okay in my book.
11. Turning 29 isn't so bad when you get to spend it with the ones that you heart the most. A pot of melted chocolate REALLY helps as well and then maybe a beer or 20.
Also, I am apparently prone to sea-sickness when on a boat that rocks back and forth like me on a drunken binge.
Note the jackets on and red tipped noses. We may be on a boat but we're freezing our asses off.
2. There's always a reason why something is just a tad too cheap. I swear to the sweet baby Jesus himself being on that ship was like being in a floating Walmart for five days. Babies screaming, kids running, horribly ugly women walking around in their housecoats and slippers. It was like all the trailer parks in Texas got together on one ship to ravage the all-you-can-gorge buffet and take part in the embarrassing karaoke version of "My Humps". The food on the ship was incredibly "meh" and it was more about quantity rather than quality. Then again after seeing how some of my fellow cruisers were wolfing down the food like it was their last day on earth I wouldn't be surprised if there was an emergency case of Wolf Brand chili and hotdogs somewhere hidden just in case we ran out of food and the hungry hillbilly natives got restless.
Thomas enjoying one of the more finer foods on board the ship - soft serve ice cream FTW!
3. After a full and sickening day at sea getting off the ship and getting drunk with strangers is glorious. Also, duty free shopping is one of my new favorite past-times. Buying Mexican Camel Lights for $15.00 a carton made me shed a tear of happiness.
At this particular beach break the Coronas were "all-you-can-drink", so I did.
4. We may be a bunch of white people but we can sure as shit shake a tail feather when we're three sheets to the wind.
5. Towel creatures are fucking creepy.
6. Cruise booze is expensive. A bucket of four beers will cost you a whopping $22.00. $22.00! For FOUR BEERS! A MaiTai will run you about $8.75 and a double Jack and Coke will require you to give up your first born. However, taking photos of yourself with those little umbrellas behind your ears is priceless and extremely hilarious, when you're drunk.
7. After spending hundreds upon hundreds of dollars in booze on the ship when they offer you free drinks for an hour TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT.
8. I am the motherfucking QUEEN of the self-portrait.
9. The more the merrier. I love my husband, I love my in-laws, and I love my friends. This vacation was just what the doctor ordered for all of us. Were there some rough times on the trip? Sure, if you count the sea sickness and the horrible food and the cold and the cabin fever. But in the end we all made each other laugh. We all had a fabulous time. In fact, we were having such a fabulous time that we ended up adopting more people into our group who saw how much fun WE were having and just had to join us. What can I say? We're likable people.
10. No matter what, sunny beach breaks with unlimited drinks makes everything a-okay in my book.
11. Turning 29 isn't so bad when you get to spend it with the ones that you heart the most. A pot of melted chocolate REALLY helps as well and then maybe a beer or 20.
Monday, October 19, 2009
My Day Off And We Start Another Countdown
Have I mentioned lately how much I heart my in-laws? I'm not even kidding either. These people are absolutely amazing. We can show up any time. They feed us. They give us beer. And then? They make us laugh. A LOT. Oh and then they offer to pay for a cruise for us for a wedding gift! Yea, read that again. A 5 day cruise to the Caribbean in January. Paid for. WOOOO!
82 days to go...
I woke up this morning and I just couldn't do it. You know those days where you're sitting in bed and having that argument in your head about whether you should just get your ass up and shower or stay in bed and sleep? I did that at 6:00 this morning. The lazy-skip-working-cause-it's-Monday-and-fuck-Mondays-Mo-won. I love that Mo. She's my favorite.
Because I absolutely loathe daytime television I've been cleaning since noon. Channeling my inner Monica Gellar and Danny Tanner I'm kicking dust bunny ass today. It's amazing what you can get accomplished when you don't have that 8 hour workday getting in the way.
82 days to go...
I woke up this morning and I just couldn't do it. You know those days where you're sitting in bed and having that argument in your head about whether you should just get your ass up and shower or stay in bed and sleep? I did that at 6:00 this morning. The lazy-skip-working-cause-it's-Monday-and-fuck-Mondays-Mo-won. I love that Mo. She's my favorite.
Because I absolutely loathe daytime television I've been cleaning since noon. Channeling my inner Monica Gellar and Danny Tanner I'm kicking dust bunny ass today. It's amazing what you can get accomplished when you don't have that 8 hour workday getting in the way.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
I Would Like Some Cheese With My Whine
It's been almost three weeks since our trip to Vegas and ever since our return I've had something gnawing at me. Like that fly that gets in your house and then dive bombs your head or lands on your Dr Pepper can, it's annoying. Infuriating even. To the point where you'd rather burn down your entire house than use a fly swatter to kill the little bastard. Or maybe it's just me and my anger management abilities.
I'm about ready to burn the mental house down.
What has been gnawing at me is my family. Specifically my mother and my grandmother. To make matters worse (or is it better? I can't tell.) is that neither of them have any inclination. It's business as usual.
I wrote about my family's lack of enthusiasm before the Vegas trip. Hell, it took them twice as long to book as it did everyone else who came along. I even said to Thomas that I just hoped, when it was all said and done, that I didn't end up regretting inviting them. I wish it wasn't the case, but a part of me does regret it.
I had such an amazing time in Las Vegas on our trip. I was surrounded by wonderful people almost constantly and I felt nothing but love from them. However, I did not feel this way when my mother and grandmother joined us, when they chose to and to be honest it wasn't very often or for very long. I wasn't concerned about their behavior or if I would be embarrassed by them. How they act is not a reflection on me, it's on them.
What bothered me was the way my mother tried to control a situation (and our vacation) when she had no right to do so. For example, when Thomas and I landed she informed me, through my sister via text message, that I was to give them a two hour notice if I wanted them to be some where. Without the two hour notice they would stay in their rooms, un-showered all day, and would not bother themselves with showing up. When I did give them several hours notice during the trip they still chose to not participate.
What bothered me was how negative and insulting and full of complaints they were. Example: "Las Vegas is too hot" "We're still on central time and at 8PM we are starving. I can't believe that you want us to wait this long to eat" "Those shoes are slutty" "I can't believe I spent this much money to get my hair done for this wedding"
What bothered me was how my mother chewed with her mouth open and talked with food in her mouth during dinner one night while sitting across from my dear friends.
What bothered me was when I told her - after only being around her for a mere 45 minutes and had already taken on several complaints and one or two insults - was that I really hoped she behaved like that the following night while she was eating the gourmet meal I was paying for.
I hit below the belt.
At the time the shock on her face and the redness in her cheeks was worth it but now that I look back on it it wasn't worth it. We were going to be surprising everyone with the meal. Originally we had asked everyone to pay for their meal at this particular restaurant but things changed and we had decided to make it a surprise for everyone instead. Unfortunately people found out here and there and only a handful didn't know. I wanted it to be a nice gift for them. A 'Thank You' for being there. For coming so far just for us. Instead my anger ruined it and it went from being a gift to more like a slap in the face.
I was angry at myself for letting them get to me. I was angry at myself for letting them attempt to ruin my night. I was grateful when the meal was finished and I chose to walk away from my grandmother and my mother. With my fake smile plastered on my face and the half-hearted hug goodbye with the statement that I was looking forward to seeing them the next day. Thankfully I was swept away by my then fiancee and gaggle of friends to celebrate our last night as two single people.
The day of the wedding my mom committed my numero UNO pet peeve - she was late. Not just once. She was late to the appointment to get her hair done. The one SHE called me and asked ME to set up for her. She was late meeting the group before the limo arrived. Her, my grandmother, and my sister walked up just as the limo was arriving and then seemed to be irritated at me because I did not immediately tell her how pretty I thought she was. Instead of her telling me how beautiful she thought I was in my wedding dress all done up (with perfect hair AND make-up may I add) the attention had to be put on her. When we came back to the hotel to wait for dinner she insisted on returning back to her own hotel so my grandmother could change clothes. I had told her over and over and OVER again to be there shortly before 6PM to be seated for dinner. 6 arrived and all of us were seated at the table. My family was not there. Of course they weren't. Even though she had almost two HOURS to do whatever it was she had to do she was still late. They eventually waltzed in around 15 after 6. I will refrain from going into how she had a conversation at the dinner table with my in-laws about a subject that I expressly and courteously asked her not to have. One in which she promised me she would not broach.
By the time the trip was over I had had my fill of my mother. I was angry, and obviously I'm still angry. We haven't really spoken since we both came home. She's gone back to her constant ranting about politics and I've gone on doing what I was doing before Vegas. This past weekend Thomas and I went to a store and carefully picked out large and beautiful frames for our families. Tomorrow I will mail out a framed photo to my mother and my grandmother along with a thank you note telling them how grateful we are that they came to be with us on our wedding day. I want them to know that even though they did not live up to whatever expectations I had set for them inside my own mind I did appreciate the effort they put forth to actually get out of the house and come to our wedding.
I realize that I'm kind of being a big baby about this whole thing. I mean really, who doesn't really dislike their parents from time to time? This is nothing new, especially for me, but it needed to be said. I needed to get it off my chest and hopefully when I put these words out there I can finally lay it to rest and move on. I will eventually get over this, it'll just take some time.
In the end our wedding and our trip was wonderful, magical even. The people we love, and who love us back, were there 100% in spirit and it showed. For those of you who read this and were there, thank you. Thank you for supporting us. Thank you for snapping me out of it and reminding me that Thomas and I were there for ourselves and were there for fun. Thank you for distracting me with shiny things and alcohol and for making me laugh even as I was crying. Thank you thank you thank you.
P.S. And thank you to Thomas for not telling me to suck it up but instead listening to me rant, holding me when I cried, and for being a wonderful husband even before we said "I do".
I'm about ready to burn the mental house down.
What has been gnawing at me is my family. Specifically my mother and my grandmother. To make matters worse (or is it better? I can't tell.) is that neither of them have any inclination. It's business as usual.
I wrote about my family's lack of enthusiasm before the Vegas trip. Hell, it took them twice as long to book as it did everyone else who came along. I even said to Thomas that I just hoped, when it was all said and done, that I didn't end up regretting inviting them. I wish it wasn't the case, but a part of me does regret it.
I had such an amazing time in Las Vegas on our trip. I was surrounded by wonderful people almost constantly and I felt nothing but love from them. However, I did not feel this way when my mother and grandmother joined us, when they chose to and to be honest it wasn't very often or for very long. I wasn't concerned about their behavior or if I would be embarrassed by them. How they act is not a reflection on me, it's on them.
What bothered me was the way my mother tried to control a situation (and our vacation) when she had no right to do so. For example, when Thomas and I landed she informed me, through my sister via text message, that I was to give them a two hour notice if I wanted them to be some where. Without the two hour notice they would stay in their rooms, un-showered all day, and would not bother themselves with showing up. When I did give them several hours notice during the trip they still chose to not participate.
What bothered me was how negative and insulting and full of complaints they were. Example: "Las Vegas is too hot" "We're still on central time and at 8PM we are starving. I can't believe that you want us to wait this long to eat" "Those shoes are slutty" "I can't believe I spent this much money to get my hair done for this wedding"
What bothered me was how my mother chewed with her mouth open and talked with food in her mouth during dinner one night while sitting across from my dear friends.
What bothered me was when I told her - after only being around her for a mere 45 minutes and had already taken on several complaints and one or two insults - was that I really hoped she behaved like that the following night while she was eating the gourmet meal I was paying for.
I hit below the belt.
At the time the shock on her face and the redness in her cheeks was worth it but now that I look back on it it wasn't worth it. We were going to be surprising everyone with the meal. Originally we had asked everyone to pay for their meal at this particular restaurant but things changed and we had decided to make it a surprise for everyone instead. Unfortunately people found out here and there and only a handful didn't know. I wanted it to be a nice gift for them. A 'Thank You' for being there. For coming so far just for us. Instead my anger ruined it and it went from being a gift to more like a slap in the face.
I was angry at myself for letting them get to me. I was angry at myself for letting them attempt to ruin my night. I was grateful when the meal was finished and I chose to walk away from my grandmother and my mother. With my fake smile plastered on my face and the half-hearted hug goodbye with the statement that I was looking forward to seeing them the next day. Thankfully I was swept away by my then fiancee and gaggle of friends to celebrate our last night as two single people.
The day of the wedding my mom committed my numero UNO pet peeve - she was late. Not just once. She was late to the appointment to get her hair done. The one SHE called me and asked ME to set up for her. She was late meeting the group before the limo arrived. Her, my grandmother, and my sister walked up just as the limo was arriving and then seemed to be irritated at me because I did not immediately tell her how pretty I thought she was. Instead of her telling me how beautiful she thought I was in my wedding dress all done up (with perfect hair AND make-up may I add) the attention had to be put on her. When we came back to the hotel to wait for dinner she insisted on returning back to her own hotel so my grandmother could change clothes. I had told her over and over and OVER again to be there shortly before 6PM to be seated for dinner. 6 arrived and all of us were seated at the table. My family was not there. Of course they weren't. Even though she had almost two HOURS to do whatever it was she had to do she was still late. They eventually waltzed in around 15 after 6. I will refrain from going into how she had a conversation at the dinner table with my in-laws about a subject that I expressly and courteously asked her not to have. One in which she promised me she would not broach.
By the time the trip was over I had had my fill of my mother. I was angry, and obviously I'm still angry. We haven't really spoken since we both came home. She's gone back to her constant ranting about politics and I've gone on doing what I was doing before Vegas. This past weekend Thomas and I went to a store and carefully picked out large and beautiful frames for our families. Tomorrow I will mail out a framed photo to my mother and my grandmother along with a thank you note telling them how grateful we are that they came to be with us on our wedding day. I want them to know that even though they did not live up to whatever expectations I had set for them inside my own mind I did appreciate the effort they put forth to actually get out of the house and come to our wedding.
I realize that I'm kind of being a big baby about this whole thing. I mean really, who doesn't really dislike their parents from time to time? This is nothing new, especially for me, but it needed to be said. I needed to get it off my chest and hopefully when I put these words out there I can finally lay it to rest and move on. I will eventually get over this, it'll just take some time.
In the end our wedding and our trip was wonderful, magical even. The people we love, and who love us back, were there 100% in spirit and it showed. For those of you who read this and were there, thank you. Thank you for supporting us. Thank you for snapping me out of it and reminding me that Thomas and I were there for ourselves and were there for fun. Thank you for distracting me with shiny things and alcohol and for making me laugh even as I was crying. Thank you thank you thank you.
P.S. And thank you to Thomas for not telling me to suck it up but instead listening to me rant, holding me when I cried, and for being a wonderful husband even before we said "I do".
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
She'll Be In Vegas
I received confirmation yesterday that my mother has finally booked her, my grandmother, and my sister for Vegas in September. Relief was my first feeling and happiness was my second. It's important to me that they all be there. To see Thomas and I get married. To actually have a vacation with my family. Something I haven't done in over 13 years.
The last vacation I took with them was a get away to South Padre Island not long after my grandfather passed away. We were all pretty beat down after dealing with his sickness and his eventual death and we needed the break badly. Most of the memories I have of our time together on the beach is of a great time spent together as a family. Unfortunately, some of the memories weren't so good either. My mother's alcoholism was present in every thing we did and even though she's been sober for over two years now it still effects us to this day.
My relationship with mom has been a rocky one for years and we're just now getting to a point where we can tolerate each other and even have a good time together. I've learned to accept that she's not the same woman I grew up knowing. She's softened a lot, but at the same time her mannerisms, her attitude, and her outlook on life has hardened. Maybe it's age or the bad cards she's been dealt from time to time in her life, either one can cause a person to be slightly bitter.
I'm not one to blame my parents for the mistakes I've made in my life. I don't blame my parent's divorce when I was three on the fact that I didn't get into an ivy league college and that I'm not making hella jack right now. What I do though is I blame my mother's alcoholism for my critical view of her. Her inability to embrace any kind of moderation in her life lead her down the path to rehab, twice. Each time she went away I was there to clean up the mess (literally) that she left behind. Each time hoping that this was the time she would stay sober and maybe she would see what she was missing in life by sitting on the couch drinking her days away. Her alcoholism has left her physically different, mentally different, and has permanently changed our relationship. I am cautious around her, to a point. I take everything she says with a grain of salt and a "I'll believe it when I see it" attitude. I'm more critical of her and quick to jump on her when she irritates me. I truly believe this comes from years and years of putting up with her bullshit and at the same time keeping my mouth shut when it comes to her. I'm at a point in my life where I refuse to keep quiet about her. She has let me down more times than I can count, but her being there for our wedding in September is helping me to forgive her.
Don't doubt this, I do love my mother. In some ways we are so alike it's scary and in others we are as different as night and day. I spent a good portion of my life looking up to her. Doing every thing I could to make her proud of me. When I finally realized that she was only human and was capable of her own failings is when her and I got to a point where we could never go back. Right now my disappointments out weigh the good feelings I have about her. But I applaud and appreciate her effort at this point. She's trying and so am I.
The last vacation I took with them was a get away to South Padre Island not long after my grandfather passed away. We were all pretty beat down after dealing with his sickness and his eventual death and we needed the break badly. Most of the memories I have of our time together on the beach is of a great time spent together as a family. Unfortunately, some of the memories weren't so good either. My mother's alcoholism was present in every thing we did and even though she's been sober for over two years now it still effects us to this day.
My relationship with mom has been a rocky one for years and we're just now getting to a point where we can tolerate each other and even have a good time together. I've learned to accept that she's not the same woman I grew up knowing. She's softened a lot, but at the same time her mannerisms, her attitude, and her outlook on life has hardened. Maybe it's age or the bad cards she's been dealt from time to time in her life, either one can cause a person to be slightly bitter.
I'm not one to blame my parents for the mistakes I've made in my life. I don't blame my parent's divorce when I was three on the fact that I didn't get into an ivy league college and that I'm not making hella jack right now. What I do though is I blame my mother's alcoholism for my critical view of her. Her inability to embrace any kind of moderation in her life lead her down the path to rehab, twice. Each time she went away I was there to clean up the mess (literally) that she left behind. Each time hoping that this was the time she would stay sober and maybe she would see what she was missing in life by sitting on the couch drinking her days away. Her alcoholism has left her physically different, mentally different, and has permanently changed our relationship. I am cautious around her, to a point. I take everything she says with a grain of salt and a "I'll believe it when I see it" attitude. I'm more critical of her and quick to jump on her when she irritates me. I truly believe this comes from years and years of putting up with her bullshit and at the same time keeping my mouth shut when it comes to her. I'm at a point in my life where I refuse to keep quiet about her. She has let me down more times than I can count, but her being there for our wedding in September is helping me to forgive her.
Don't doubt this, I do love my mother. In some ways we are so alike it's scary and in others we are as different as night and day. I spent a good portion of my life looking up to her. Doing every thing I could to make her proud of me. When I finally realized that she was only human and was capable of her own failings is when her and I got to a point where we could never go back. Right now my disappointments out weigh the good feelings I have about her. But I applaud and appreciate her effort at this point. She's trying and so am I.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Food And Guns
My only sibling, my baby sister, graduated from high school on Friday. Thomas and I made the haul up to Missouri the day before and seeing her walk across that stage was worth every boring mile of the trek. The child was BEAMING with glee and my family and I were proud. She's not a baby anymore. She's not the 4 year-old I keep imagining her to be. She's a full fledged ADULT now and I wonder where time went.
Of course something HAD to go wrong for this poor child. It was raining cats and dogs and cows and frogs the night of the ceremony and I thought we were all going to DIE from either the epic holy floods or from a tornado. The kid got caught out in the rain and her cap was all warped and her hair was a wreck but it didn't matter to her. She was DONE with high school. Look at that beautiful smile! LOOKIT! I've never seen her happier.
Of course with any family function we have there must be large LARGE amounts of food. I knew going in that my diet was shot as soon as we crossed the border into Missouri. My taste buds were thanking me but my thighs were screaming "NO NO NO! Do you REALIZE how much time you're going to have to spend on the elliptical to work this shit off?!"
Obviously my taste buds won.
Like any red-blooded American family from the Mid-West we celebrated my sister's graduation by going on a family outing to the shooting range. Yes, you read that right. And yes, we're a little rednecky. Don't hate.
Just when I thought I couldn't eat anymore. When I was sure that my belly couldn't handle ONE MORE piece of food in it, out came the cake. A cake big enough for 30 people. A cake that 7 of us almost finished off. WITH ICE CREAM. Insert more screaming from my thighs here.
BUT WAIT...THERE'S MORE!
After my sister had opened her gifts Thomas and I were told we had a surprise as well. We were given our very own cake to take home!! In celebration of our recent engagement my family gave us the cake, a card, and a couple of small gifts. We were floored. This weekend was about my sister but during this time they had all thought of Thomas and I. They wanted to do something special for two people they love so much. Those people never cease to amaze me.
To my sister,
Good job, kiddo. You make me proud. Looking forward to seeing you graduate again in 4 years.
I love you,
Sissy
Graduation set on Flickr
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