Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Degrees of Separation

I hate it when I get a good idea about something to write about and then poof it's gone. All I remember is that I was outside, taking the Terrier Twins on their millionth potty break, and I was like "OMG that would like TOTES MCGOTES make a good subject to elaborate on, and now I have done forgotted it. Yes, I said forgotted.

So, I'll just talk about something random.

Today, my dad calls me and says he read an article about the state of the job market now and he got to thinking, that since this is the most money I'll probably have EVER. (EVER! People!) that I should think about getting educated fast and get a job after that. Totally makes sense, Dad. That may be the way to go.

Wait, let me stop there to explain something really quick. He was supposed to go up to the bank he has been going to for years to "give them a good word" on me when I told him I was applying there for positions they ACTUALLY have available. I guess he's been banking there so long, he's buddies with the manager etc.

So, I'm starting to panic, because although the whole educated before working thing is a primo idea, I'm kinda wanting this job. Because there is no way I can get my education before I officially divorce. When I officially divorce I'll get less money.

So, he's starting to brainstorm, spit ideas off the top of his head. He told me I needed to find something that I can get educated in in three months. Ummm impossible. But, you don't say that to my dad. You just say "Well, I'll look into what I can do." He starts getting really excited he's like "You need to be a truck driver! Yeah a truck driver, or, or a plumber's assistant!" Now, honestly I am not at all offended. This is my dad and I know he is saying these things to help me. But, a trucker? A plumber's assistant? I explained that if I was a trucker, I'd have to go out of town, a a plumber's assistant? Well, I might as well work a minimum wage crap job now (No pun intended) as I have no desire to work as a plumber. He said a few things, he kept saying "You need to work in a man's field. Think about something a man would do." He never clarified that statement, so the only logical conclusion I could come to was that being a woman, I could push the whole HEY I'm a woman thing you HAVE to hire me. It makes sense I guess?

After he said all this, he said he'd still go up and talk to the lady at the bank. He gave me a glowing review. He said "Well, you know my other two daughters, they have degrees. Sandi doesn't, she's been a Navy wife for 12 years, but she's super smart."


Again, I get it, he's a guy and he's nailing it down for me. I am NOT looking a gift horse in a mouth, trust me. The lady took what my dad said and ate it up with a spoon. Thanked him profusely, told him she appreciated it. That he was good people, and so I must be too. Honestly, if I get this job, it will mainly be because of my dad. You could tell that she really respected my dad and his opinion. That means a lot.

It's just SO my dad. He's just so blunt, and that's probably where I get it, but I'm also a female, so I think that in itself kind of softens the bluntness. I am NOT knocking my dad he really hepled me out. When I met that woman today, she immediately recognized me. And you want to know why she recognized me? Well, duh I'm the one without the degree.

Monday, January 24, 2011

If I Had A Label, It Would Be "Chunk Light Tuna In Oil"

Labels are funny, and even though I'm opposed to them in general, I label people all the time. It's stupid really, because people are too complex. What bothers me the MOST though, is when people label themselves, and therefore live by this label. They'll say things like "Oh in my group of friends I'm the bitch/cook/jokester/nose picking dog rapist." then they spend all their time and energy living up to the self proclaimed role. It's kind of like giving yourself a nickname, you only end up being the douchebag.

See? There I go labeling someone again.

I guess it's impossible not to. I guess I have more issues with snap judgements (and those douchebags who label themselves and then live by them. Really, really dislike those kind of people. But, ahem. I digress.) I was thinking in the shower today, and if you were to go by my physical image, you would think, I don't know I was like some hipster wanna be derby girl with my tattoos and my stripey hair, and my Art Nouveua styled t-shirt with a very proper zombie lady eating brains on her fancy china and a fork. I'm really not though. If I had to "label" myself it would be, well a dork. Uncomfortable in her own skin, who loves to read more than she likes to do anything else in the world who has a penchant for video games and texting. When I'm around my good friends, I'm usually loud and I kind of hate that about myself. When I'm around people I don't well or at all. I'm painfully quiet as in... "Wow, is she autistic or drunk?" I'll blurt out random sentences that make people look at me funny, smile and nod, and then look away quickly. "I LIKE YOUR BEARD! BAH!"

With that dorky side, also comes a very sexual side. Where I have no issues with casual sex (Although not a practicing participant at the moment) and general hooking up. Which gives the impression of, well, ok a WHORE, but it's not THAT easy either. The people I am interested in sexually, have to turn me on intellectually. That is actually really hard to find. Then you get into, ok I'm fine with casual sex (always safe people, always safe) but not casual making out and like hand hold and snuggling and shit. If we're going to have sex, and we both know that's what it's about... please do not hold my hand, or pretend there is something more there because you and I both know, there isn't. I'm not your typical girl that needs to be wooed just to get in my pants.

I guess I've been thinking about labels a lot because of trying to find a job. On paper I'm a 34 uneducated stay at home mom who is trying to make it out in the world again. I'm so much MORE than that though. Take for instance, I would love to work at Best Buy. Actually, I want to SUPER bad. But on paper, I don't seem like the kind of person that would be good at it. Because I'm OLD. Yet, you would probably have more luck asking ME, a customer, a question and getting a good answer, than one of those young kids, who are all "Ummmm I'm not sure? Like, let me go ask my boss?" (I don't think Jordan reads this, but if you happen to, I am NOT talking about you. )

So, yeah. I don't know what the point of this whole post is, other than I just wanted to write it. So, there. Because I'm a bad ass that way. I have the tattoos to prove it.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

My Buds, My Peeps, My Homies

One of the suckiest things about my life is that a lot of my really good friends are all far away. It's weird because a lot of my friends, I've met online and then have met in person eventually. One is one of my best friends in the whole world. I used to live five hours from her, now I live like a billion hours from her and it sucks. Yet, I know I can always count on her to understand me when I text her some totally off the wall, random, usually sexually related bullshit, she'll respond back with equally asinine something that will have me cracking up and in tears. Today she got to read my obsessive instant messages about my life, and even though she has got like a 101 (and that's not a lie) things going on in her life, when I said "Oh I'm going there bitch, and you will read it." She just said "go". We all need friends like that, even when they're crampy and halfway passing out on the couch. They'll let you "go" when you need to get it out.

I'm not so great with the friend thing, but that's what I like about my friends. They get that. I'm kind of stand offish. I don't really need the constant companionship of others. Most my friends I can go weeks without talking to, and usually they have to contact me. They'll call, I'll call back whenever. It's a really shit way to be, but I don;t know how to be anything else.

I love my friends though. All of them. I don't make friends easily, but when I do, I keep them for life for the most part. I have found that clingy people I will eventually end up not speaking to anymore. I have found that organized friendships (Groups and stuff like that) I can't get behind.

I told someone today I was shy. This is true. If I know you, and I've known you for awhile, I'm an open book. Loud, obnoxious, bossy. But when there are new people, I'm quite reserved. I don't know what to say, I get nervous. It's actually quite adorable. Ok, that's not true.

I would love to one day move all my friends to one city. All of them. Make them my little pets. I will feed them alphalpha sprouts and scratch their little ears. Because that's not at all weird.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Am I Really Here?

When times got tough when I was in Virginia, I would tell myself, "You'll be in St. Louis with family and friends soon. Just hang in there."

I did and I'm here and that's the end of this entry!

Ok well, maybe not. Tomorrow afternoon our stuff gets here. Where I'll put it, who freaking knows, but I'll be surrounding by MY THINGS by tomorrow evening, even if 92 % of it will be in boxes in the basement. But, oh how I can't wait to sleep in my BED. My mom got me some awesome sheets for Christmas, something like 153,823 thread count. I can't wait. I'm just going to roll back and forth on it and moan in ecstasy. Alone. That's actually kind of sad and pathetic sounding, but that's been my life the last six weeks, so it fits.

Honestly, life has been pretty freaking awesome in the last four weeks I'd say. The first two were hard. It was the whole "Holy shit this is my reality" thing, and I guess that's to be expected. Money has been crazy tight, but I find myself not at all worried about it. It's really, really weird and really, really not like me. I don't get it. I don't know if it's because my parents said they would help me out if I really needed it and just knowing that parent panic button is there keeps my wits together enough to make it all work or what, but it's almost been a non issue for me for the most part. There was a moment or two after Christmas where panic set in and bawled once or twice, but since then I've realized as long as I have food in the house, and gas in the car, I really don't need money for anything else.

It's been kind of hard on the kids. They're used to getting little treats and stuff here and there, and having to tell them that there will absolutely will not be any extras at the store and sticking to it has been hard for all of us. I, as mom, like to make them happy. They, as children, like to get shit. It was a win win situation. Now, I'm just the woman that says no all the time, and it can eat at me a bit. We're eating a ton at home, and I am rediscovering the joys of cooking and I'm having so much fun!

After the seperation, I kind of quit cooking all together. It was rare I'd make a home made meal. Either we'd eat something packaged, or usually, we got take out. It was a coping mechanism I think. My life had been turned upside down, and cooking was the one area I could replace with outside help. I couldn't hire anyone to do my laundry or help my kids with homework or do the grocery shopping or argue with my ex on the phone. But, I sure as shit could call Cal'z and order a pizza and a sub you know? The pizza guy knew the dog's names. Yeah, THAT bad.

It was something else though, too. This is what I was telling a friend the other day. It hit me last week that I haven't cooked for Tony in a year. I think a part of me COULDN'T cook because I was afraid it would bring pain. I loved to cook for him and the kids. I loved seeing them enjoying something I made with my own hands. I got a thrill everytime Tony made a fuss over my cooking or told someone that I was great cook. I think when he left, that little of piece of my heart broke off and it took awhile to find again. I had cooked that man countless meals. I loved to serve him, even though it made him uncomfortable. It's my little Susie Homemaker deal. I like to serve my man his food, then the kids, then me. That's how my mom always did it, and even though I don't follow most of her ways of wifery, this is one I always enjoyed.

So, now that I find myself having no other choice BUT to cook, that little piece that broke off is slowly being mended with butter and garlic and salt and pepper. The kids have tried a few new things here and there and liked them and this has brought me immense happiness. The whining for fast food has completely stopped for the most part, except the occasional mention of Steak N Shake, but it's never asked for, just "Hey that sounds good right now."

Things are coming together nicely, and I'm optimistic for my future. I was worried I'd get here and smacked with the harsh reality of my single mom status, and even though I'm more aware of it, it's not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

Monday, January 10, 2011

The One Where I Drop the F Bomb A LOT

One thing people may not know about me is that I am super sensitive to noise, except for loud music. I can listen to music very loud and not have it affect me. Noise in general though, really bothers me. The only time I have ever been close to having a panic attack was when I was stuck in an auditorium filled with very noisy Girl Scouts. I felt physically assaulted by their noise. Music saved me at that moment. I put my headphones in (thank God I had them) and closed my eyes and willed myself to calm down.

Of course, I have two very noisy kids, one who has Tourette's and she's constantly making noise. If it isn't a tic, her ADD is kicking in, and she's tap, tap, tapping on the wall, or click, click, clicking her teeth, or stomp, stomp, stomping her feet, or clap, clap, clapping her hands. Constantly. She's mastered that loud clap that makes my ears ring and set my teeth on age. Jonny listens to everything at TOP VOLUME. He loves to play with my phone, so Angry Birds is ANGRY BIRDS and he loves the Fred Figglehorn videos and Christ on a cracker that kid is obnoxious. His screeching voice, played at top volume makes me want to crawl out of my skin. It's the main reason why I don't like guns. The fucking NOISE. I can't deal with it.

I don't know why I feel this way. My mom is kind of the same way. I find that a lot of times, she and I will react almost identically to a noise. We'll shush almost at the same time. We have the same breaking point I think, when it just gets to be TOO much and we have to say something. I realize now that growing up I was kind of lucky my dad worked nights. We HAD to be quiet and I honestly never remember it being THAT hard. It was natural for me, my mom and two sisters to be quiet. I mean, he slept in the bedroom next to the living room, we lived in a tiny house, and on one hand I can count how many times he got pissed at us being too loud.

Don't get me wrong. I let my kids be kids as much as possible. I AM an adult, therefore I can control myself. The problem is when the kids are home for an extended period of time. Right now, I am having trouble registering them in school because the district needs like the heart of a homonculus and a hair from Justin Bieber's head. Homonculi don't usually have hearts I don't think.. so therein lies my problem. (I love the word homonculi BTW) So, basically I have been on FREAKING EDGE the last few days. I've cried more in the last few days than I care to admit. Never like boohoo bawling, just the tears in my eyes kind of thing. They're bored, it's cold, money is tight, and I can't find where I put the damn charger for the Wiimotes which are now dead. So they fight, antagonize the dogs, fight some more, whine, cry, fight again, piss off the dogs some more, who then bark, bark, bark, bark and growl, growl, growl and I feel like I'm drowing in the noise of it all.

That's when the headphones come out again. Kids know that if mommy has the headphones on, she's desperate. I try really hard not to put them on too much. There were times right after the seperation that I literally had them on all day. It was the only way I could cope. The sad thing is, the noise drives me crazy but so does the silence. It's refreshing to have the quiet, but then, oh fuck but THEN. That's when the noise in my head drives me crazy. Not in that "Hey go kill kittens and BBQ your neighbors goldfish all while wearing a Bill Clinton mask." kind of a way. That's just when all my doubts and fears invade my head. Jesus, Sandi why the fuck didn't you go to school? Why did you put all your eggs in HIS basket? You should have worked the whole time. Now, you have huge gap in employment history. It's not fair. I followed through with my promise of being a good Navy wife and all I asked for in turn was to stay home with my kids. Now, look where I am. What am I going to do when my sister gets back? Will I find a job? Will I have to work at fucking Jack in the Box? Ok, ok school... FUCK! I don't know what I am interested in, I don't know what I want to go to school for, I don't even fucking LIKE school.


So, that's when the headphones come out the most. To drown the "fucks" running through my head. There was this cartoon when I was kid that was about this little scottie dog, and he had this dream where all around him the words #1 Dog were repeated in print and in sound. "Number one dog! Number one dog!" over and over while he tried to escape the words and the sound. That's how I feel when it's quiet, except its the word FUCK over and over.

But, I'm not crazy I swear, the voices in my head said so.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Get Out Of My Head

I go through great lengths to avoid Tony at all cost, but yet at least twice a week I have the same dream. The setting is always different, the circumstances always change, but we agree to get back together, and it's not the happy occasion you'd think it would be. The indifference we have toward each other is suffocating even in the dreams. We usually talk on the phone and agree we should reconcile and then we meet at some neutral location (Last night it was a gay wedding for two navy guys.. yeah) and we kind of avoid each other, then we finally meet and say "Hey" and there, we're together. Then we go seperate ways. We don't speak, we don't hug, or kiss or hold hands. We say "Hey" and then bam, we're a couple. Every single dream.

What surprises me is how SAD I am after I wake up from these dreams and THAT'S the part I have yet to figure out. I don't know if I'm sad because I want him back, but that I seriously doubt. I don't know if I'm sad because a part of me at least wants him to come crawling back? The only thing that makes sense is that it's really a representation of our marriage near the end and it's sad that I couldn't see the indifference then, and the other theory is that there really aren't feelings on either side and our marriage is officially over. Like I've said in the past, you have to have a fucking heart of STONE to not mourn the death of your marriage, even if it was terrible.

Mine wasn't terrible. He never beat me, he never said horrible things to me, he never called me names or anything of the sort. If anything, that was me. I was listening to P!nk today and I watched the video for Please Don't Leave Me and it's just so ME and how I was such a BITCH in our marriage. My favorite line is "You're my perfect little punching bag." I did. I treated him poorly. Hey, I'm not accepting all the blame and saying I DROVE him away or anything. He wasn't pleasant to live with either. He was passive agressive and lazy. I don't mean he was lazy like he wouldn't do chores, I mean he was just content to let me take care of most of everything in life, to bills to the kids etc. I worked my ass off during deployments and all of a sudden all that hard work was me being "controlling"

Ahh. Anyway. It doesn't matter now. I'm pretty sure I know what I need as far as a man goes, and looking back at it, Tony SO isn't it. Our marriage was a product of circumstance. Did we love each other? Oh God, yes we did. Very much for a long time. But when it went bad, it went bad FAST. Like how an asian woman ages. For a long time you can't tell if she's 45 or 65 but she wakes up one morning and BLAM she looks 75.

I am going to need a man with a sense of humor, who isn't afraid to tell me what he thinks.. ever. Even if he knows it's going to send me straight into a fit of rage. Because I had enough of pussy footing around. Tony would get mad, and he'd never say anything. I want a man who wants to do things for me not because he has to but because he wants to. By things, I don't mean buy me things, because that was never the way to my heart. I mean, I don't know, put the laundry away because he knows I hate that part the most. I also want a man who will make me want to do things for him. I know that sounds... all June Cleaver-ish but think about it. I don't mean I want the man to EXPECT me to like wash his car, or get up early to make him breakfast, I mean I do it on my own because I WANT to make that person happy.

I hate talking about that kind of stuff because it always makes me seem like I'm desperate for a boyfriend or something. I'm not. Hello? Most girls would be with someone already and ready to walk down the aisle with that person. I'm good right now, but you know, the thoughts creep in here and there. Let's face it, everyone wants someone eventually.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

It's All In the Timing

Life is starting to slowly become my happy fun time place again. Ok, well not really. Since X is in another state, I have these whackadoo kids almost constantly. I love them, but there is one thing people don't really discuss about kids and it's how freaking repetive they are. I get asked the same questions on a daily basis, I get shown the same drawings/wounds/games/videos/cartoons over and over or they want to talk about one thing continuously. HEAVEN FORBID I get irked, because then it's all wounded puppy dog faces and crocodile tears.

Today, I got to go grocery shopping alone, and I felt like I was high. I was all WOOHOO I get to go to Shop N Save all alone? Hot damn.

I do miss my life back in VA. Today I referred to Virginia Beach as "back home" when talking to someone and I guess that's true. Honestly, it was the first place that felt like home to me. Sure, I love St. Louis and it's crazy ways, but Virginia felt like mine you know? At one point it felt like "ours". Tony and I had said we'd never move back and live in St. Louis. That we'd miss our friends and family, but St. Louis was no longer "us" and we liked the East Coast. I dreaded moving back.

Now, though I've been here for three weeks and it doesn't even FEEL like three weeks, it feels like one, yet it feels like longer too. Hard to explain, but I'm taking it as a good sign. That life flew by me so quickly that I barely had time for much moaning about being back (because this is ME and you know, I did some complaining and eye rolling) yet, I feel comfortable enough that it seems like I never left. That's a good thing. Whenever I came back before, even when we lived here for five years and had a child here, I still felt like a visitor. Probably because we knew we'd leave eventually, and we always had one foot out the door. I'm ready for roots baby, something I haven't had since I left the first time around.

Everything happens for a reason. Look at the situation at hand. My sister needed someone to live here, I needed a place to stay. Both my sisters have moved out of state leaving my mother all alone. She lived for those two and my dad. Our timing on coming back was perfect. She has spent nearly every day since the 1st with at least one of us at her side. I guess it's our turn to be with mom and honestly, I need it. I didn't know it until this second. I've been gone since I was 21. I'm 34 now and all alone trying my best. I need her support at this time in my life and she's given it without wavering. It was HER idea that she came back this evening, clean up Jonny's bedroom and she told me to go without the kids shopping because she knew they hated going and I could use the quiet. She's cracked the whip around here when I just couldn't do it anymore.

Just before I sat down to write this, I went downstairs to restart the dryer (Damn jeans) and turn off the lights and straighten up before bed, and sitting there was the second load of laundry I did today, all folded up neatly in the basket. I was going to fold them when I went down there. Who needs a husband when you have mom?

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Down, But Not Out

The holidays were a lot harder for me than I expected them to be. It was quite shocking to me that they were. I guess when the holidays are so focused on family, and your family is no longer together, it's bound to hurt.

It doesn't help that I moved back home two weeks before Christmas. Looking back, that was probably a mistake as I couldn't even put a Christmas tree anywhere. Couldn't put one up back in VA because we were leaving, and could bring ours with us here, so no tree to put up. You'd be suprised how much a tree makes a difference. I was working against time though, and wanted to see my youngest sister before she moved to Colorado. We made it just in time and got a day and a half with her before she left. Christmas was sad without her, but she's off living life like every 22 year old should and I'm proud of her for it.

The hardest moment was when I got the box of gifts for the kids from X. Seeing the gifts, wrapped by his hand, knowing that THIS is what we've been reduced to, well it made me cry. The image of the gifts stuck with me most of the holiday and would bring a lump to my throat. No matter how much a divorce is for the best, there is always going to be instances of pain I guess.

Once I got past Christmas, I thought I would be in the clear. No, I think ringing in the New Year was harder. I woke up on the 31st thinking about how my X cheated on me. Not so much on the situation NOW, but how could he do that to me four months after we married? All day I couldn't stop thinking about it. I cried off and on all day. If there is one time your spouse shouldn't cheat is so soon after marriage right? Why didn't he just tell me? We could have ended it so much sooner. Look at my life now because of his selfishness. Just on and on. This is not a good mood to be in when you're going to a party. You will end up drinking way too much and pretty much holding everyone hostage while you drunkenly bawl over how he hurt you. It's never a pretty sight.

My sister and my brother in law moved out, and me and the kids have kind of moved in. The dogs love having a WINDOW to look out of, although that means the barking has gone up tenfold. Louie actually barked at boxes across the street the other day. Awesome.

I know as the days and weeks and months pass, and my life comes together more, I'll feel better. I'm not too upset about my h0liday blues because I've been pretty lucky with how I've handled all this. I can't beat myself up over feeling sad occasionally.