A big welcome back to me! My computer crashed shortly after my last post and I had to wait forever for a new one. I went to a different electronics store this time. The last place was just a joke.
So here I am, and hoping that I will be motivated to post more often. Though I can't think of anything to write at the moment I'm sure something will come to me soon. I'll have something to bitch about.
I'm about bitched out for now, what with having so many places to write my thoughts down let off some steam about what I'm peeved over.
For now the house is quiet. Kids settling down for bed, watching t.v. bathing, etc. It won't last long. Any moment now one of them will run in here yelling about something. Or the cat will decide to attack the back of my chair and maybe get my butt instead. Or the hubby will call yet again asking if I saw the pictures he sent, even tho I've told him several times today that I have to erase some of my messages before I can look at the new ones and just haven't had time. Because he keeps calling.
I should be writing. I just can't focus. Not enough quiet moments in the day. Perhaps I should get up earlier in the morning and try to write. I'm not a morning person. I don't mean writing for my blogs but working on the story I've been working on for years and years now. Someday I'll pretend to think it's good enough and decide to publish it. Maybe.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Dad's Cancer
I don't know what to think or how to feel. The relationship between my father and I has only ever been "o.k." never really good. Now he might need me, to help out when he gets too sick. My step-mom is working full time and trying to take care of him. He still works but can't manage as much as he used to, the chemo really does a number on him. He's tried to mend fences, he really has, but it's hard for me to just forget all the crap that happened in the past. It was difficult for me to see him when they came for a visit on their way to Yellowstone last week. He looks so different, his hair all fell out and came back a different color, he looks smaller and weaker.
No one wants to think about their parents dying, even if they have a bad relationship. Because then you have to face your own weakness, your own mortality.
I know he's dying. If the cancer doesn't take his life it will at least shorten it considerably despite the treatment he's had. How am I supposed to deal with it? I guess I've been ignoring what's going on. I don't want to go home and take care of him, I have my own children to take care of. But I can't just abandon him either. He needs me, needs my support. Needs to know that I forgive him and will be there for him when he needs me to come home.
I have time to start a life with my family here in Wyoming. There is no reason for me to stay in Texas permanently. I can still have a house and a life here but he may not have that much time left. My step-mom suggested we set up a day each month for a long call so that we can keep up with everything. So they can talk to the kids and get to know them more, so they can let us know how his treatments are going.
I suppose that'll work for now.
No one wants to think about their parents dying, even if they have a bad relationship. Because then you have to face your own weakness, your own mortality.
I know he's dying. If the cancer doesn't take his life it will at least shorten it considerably despite the treatment he's had. How am I supposed to deal with it? I guess I've been ignoring what's going on. I don't want to go home and take care of him, I have my own children to take care of. But I can't just abandon him either. He needs me, needs my support. Needs to know that I forgive him and will be there for him when he needs me to come home.
I have time to start a life with my family here in Wyoming. There is no reason for me to stay in Texas permanently. I can still have a house and a life here but he may not have that much time left. My step-mom suggested we set up a day each month for a long call so that we can keep up with everything. So they can talk to the kids and get to know them more, so they can let us know how his treatments are going.
I suppose that'll work for now.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Here I am again, beating my head against the wall and wondering when the craps gonna stop happening.
My husband was home for only one day for Thanksgiving. We didn't see him again until January 4th. He missed our youngest daughter's birthday, Christmas and New Years. Of course the kids are getting kinda attitude-y since he's been gone so much. Makes me want to run away and hide.
I didn't get married so I could be a single mom. This isn't what I signed that paper for.
I'm not a social person. I don't make friends easily. Since I have to have the kids with me all the time it's hard to make a friend that isn't one of my kids' friends' mom and doesn't involve playdates.
I would just like to have a little time to myself and that is impossible to do without my husband here to take over every now and then.
I'd like to go sit at Starbucks for lunch, eat an insanely expensive sandwich and sip a frappucino while reading a giant fiction book. Just to have an hour or two without having to stop an argument between kids or field constant requests for things we can't afford.
It would go a long way toward preserving my sanity.
Perhaps I should use those few moments alone to write a book. One that couldn't be anything but a bestseller. Then maybe I could have enough money to keep him from having to work so much.
And hire a Nanny. That would really be nice.
My husband was home for only one day for Thanksgiving. We didn't see him again until January 4th. He missed our youngest daughter's birthday, Christmas and New Years. Of course the kids are getting kinda attitude-y since he's been gone so much. Makes me want to run away and hide.
I didn't get married so I could be a single mom. This isn't what I signed that paper for.
I'm not a social person. I don't make friends easily. Since I have to have the kids with me all the time it's hard to make a friend that isn't one of my kids' friends' mom and doesn't involve playdates.
I would just like to have a little time to myself and that is impossible to do without my husband here to take over every now and then.
I'd like to go sit at Starbucks for lunch, eat an insanely expensive sandwich and sip a frappucino while reading a giant fiction book. Just to have an hour or two without having to stop an argument between kids or field constant requests for things we can't afford.
It would go a long way toward preserving my sanity.
Perhaps I should use those few moments alone to write a book. One that couldn't be anything but a bestseller. Then maybe I could have enough money to keep him from having to work so much.
And hire a Nanny. That would really be nice.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Chores
I have a lot of chores that need to be done. Thankfully, my kids are old enough to have a chore list and to independently take care of things. Sometimes its like a competition to get them done, sometimes I hear "oh, man, I have to wash the dishes?!"
There are some things I don't trust them to do though, like the laundry. We have to lug the laundry up to the front office of the R.V. park and use the coin machines. I just don't trust them to do something like that alone, I'm always afraid they'll cram too many clothes in the machine or use too much detergent or something and I'll have to do the laundry all over again. Bah!
My twelve and ten year olds like to cook (with my supervision of course). Always easy stuff for now, though I plan to teach them to make meatloaf and such. Right now it's just open a can or package of something and heat it up. This helps me a lot when I have a down day and I don't have to think too hard. I know that makes me sound lazy, and it may seem as if my kids are at a disadvantage, but I think it's necessary to teach them life skills. If you've never had to deal with depression then you have no idea how hard it is some days just to get out of bed. At least I've taught them what they need to know, all the safety rules and everything, so when things get bad they know what to do. They can always call dad for support if they need it. Luckily things haven't been that bad in quite a while. I'm a fighter, a survivor. I'm determined to beat this thing.
For those of us who have had to be on welfare or can't afford insurance, you know what it's like trying to get help. If you say anything to a doctor they want to put you on medication or have you see a psychiatrist or something that you can't afford. If your on welfare they start giving you those "suspicious" looks and you get paranoid. I've seen what happens to kids whose parents got that look. The state automatically assumes that you can't take care of your kids and butts into your life and makes things horrible for you. The kids are the ones who end up suffering for it.
I refuse to go that route. My kids have a good life, better than most. They have two parents that love them unconditionally, a good home, food, clothes and health care. They have a better life than a lot of kids out there whose parents are addicted to something or are divorced and fighting all the time or etc., etc., etc.
My kids haven't learned how to fend for themselves on their own, they've learned from me. I taught them how to take care of themselves to prepare them for any emergency. They know how to get help when they need it, how to cook and clean up after themselves, how to call dad or ask for help from a neighbor in an emergency and how to call 911. These are things all kids should know. They know that somedays I have a down day, but they also know that if we work together everything will be o.k.
They know that I'm fighting, that I'm not letting depression take over our lives. That gives me hope and makes it easier to swim up from the depths. It makes the days easier to get through and helps me to smile more.
When we're all smiling the chores are easier and the day is beautiful.
There are some things I don't trust them to do though, like the laundry. We have to lug the laundry up to the front office of the R.V. park and use the coin machines. I just don't trust them to do something like that alone, I'm always afraid they'll cram too many clothes in the machine or use too much detergent or something and I'll have to do the laundry all over again. Bah!
My twelve and ten year olds like to cook (with my supervision of course). Always easy stuff for now, though I plan to teach them to make meatloaf and such. Right now it's just open a can or package of something and heat it up. This helps me a lot when I have a down day and I don't have to think too hard. I know that makes me sound lazy, and it may seem as if my kids are at a disadvantage, but I think it's necessary to teach them life skills. If you've never had to deal with depression then you have no idea how hard it is some days just to get out of bed. At least I've taught them what they need to know, all the safety rules and everything, so when things get bad they know what to do. They can always call dad for support if they need it. Luckily things haven't been that bad in quite a while. I'm a fighter, a survivor. I'm determined to beat this thing.
For those of us who have had to be on welfare or can't afford insurance, you know what it's like trying to get help. If you say anything to a doctor they want to put you on medication or have you see a psychiatrist or something that you can't afford. If your on welfare they start giving you those "suspicious" looks and you get paranoid. I've seen what happens to kids whose parents got that look. The state automatically assumes that you can't take care of your kids and butts into your life and makes things horrible for you. The kids are the ones who end up suffering for it.
I refuse to go that route. My kids have a good life, better than most. They have two parents that love them unconditionally, a good home, food, clothes and health care. They have a better life than a lot of kids out there whose parents are addicted to something or are divorced and fighting all the time or etc., etc., etc.
My kids haven't learned how to fend for themselves on their own, they've learned from me. I taught them how to take care of themselves to prepare them for any emergency. They know how to get help when they need it, how to cook and clean up after themselves, how to call dad or ask for help from a neighbor in an emergency and how to call 911. These are things all kids should know. They know that somedays I have a down day, but they also know that if we work together everything will be o.k.
They know that I'm fighting, that I'm not letting depression take over our lives. That gives me hope and makes it easier to swim up from the depths. It makes the days easier to get through and helps me to smile more.
When we're all smiling the chores are easier and the day is beautiful.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
A Good Day
Life is messy, dirty, sticky and smelly. Life is pain and sadness. Life is hard.
There are some days I don't even want to leave my bed. There are some days that I don't. It's not that I don't want to. It's just that, some days, waking up is like trying to swim up from the bottom of the ocean without any breathing equipment. The closer I get to that bright light at the surface, the more suffocated I feel.
Up there, somewhere, I hear my kids screaming at each other. About who had more cereal, who drank all the milk, who's day it is to do the dishes. I know I have to wake up sometime and deal with it. But how can I get up and get out of bed if I can't even wake up? How can I get out of this mess? I can't.
Anything I do would make me look like a bad mother. The guilt presses me down, into the mattress. I pull the blanket a little higher over my head and pretend I can't hear them fighting. Who am I to think I can do this? Who am I to think I can be a good parent? This isn't something I planned for or asked for, way back when I was still of the age to make plans for my future. Back when my peers were planning college or careers. I just happened into it because there was no other option for me. I guess in the beginning I told myself that, since it was my only option, I would do a better job than any of my peers. Instead of shoving my children out the door each morning and rushing them off to a school with no educational worth, I kept them home. Instead of doping up my son and teaching him how to be a drug addict as a small child, I chose to change his diet, his activities, and remove him from situations where his ADHD was aggravated.
It's so hard to open my eyes. The kids are taking advantage of all this. They will until they realize that I really can't wake up. Then they'll get quiet. They'll get even quiter when they realize I'm crying. Things will get put away, dishes will get washed, books will be brought out. Then one of the girls will, in a gentle voice, ask me to read her lesson to her. I'll drag myself up, and with bleary eyes and a runny nose, I'll read the lesson. I'll explain what to do, point out mistakes and encourage a reworking of a math problem or a spelling check. I'll listen while my son reads out loud from his history lesson and help him with the proper pronunciation of difficult words. Then, sometime around lunch, I'll drag myself out of bed and wash up. I'll get dressed then watch over the kids while they water paint or draw. I'll gripe about the open peanut butter and jelly jars and bread crumbs everywhere.
In the late afternoon they'll go outside to play, or if the weather is bad, they'll turn the t.v. on and watch cartoons or kid shows. I can only handle so much kiddie programming before I put on my big headphones and listen to music on my laptop. A day like any other day around here.
Tomorrow I may have no problem waking up at all. Tomorrow I may wake up early and cook pancakes for breakfast. I may take a cup of coffee outside and sit at the picnic table while the kids eat their breakfast. If I do, I'll call it a good day.
Maybe it will be a good day. I never know what to expect from one day to the next. I don't think any parent with depression does. Some days are good, some are bad. Some days just are what they are. I walk through them as best I can and sometimes I stumble. Sometimes I fall flat on my face, although those days are few and far between.
I comfort myself with the fact that I am not alone. I am not the only parent out there who struggles every day with kids, depression and loneliness. I am not the only one who doubts herself whenever one of the kids blurts out something inappropriate or embarrassing in a crowded grocery store. I am not the only mom who wonders if having kids ruined any chance at ever having a sex life again. I know it because I see it in the eyes of every other mother I meet. I see the pain, the sadness, the loneliness.
But there is something else there, too. Hope.
Hope that one day the kids will be grown and somehow you'll put things back together.
I see this in the eyes of moms who stay home and moms who work.
I see it in the eyes of moms who race around taking care of everything and everyone, and moms who hire other people to do it for them.
We're in Limbo. We're waiting. And while we wait, it isn't all bad. There are the crayon pictures made just for us by children who consider us to be their entire world. There are the quiet moments when no one is whining, nothing is spilled, the phone isn't ringing and there are no appointments to keep. There are the days that the pantry is full, the bills are paid, and dinner is already done and just waiting for everyone to sit down at table. There are the days that the line at the coffee shop is short and your favorite magazine or book is in stock.
These are the days we cherish. These are the days we look forward to, the ones we can sigh and say it's a good day.
Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be one of those days.
One can only Hope.
There are some days I don't even want to leave my bed. There are some days that I don't. It's not that I don't want to. It's just that, some days, waking up is like trying to swim up from the bottom of the ocean without any breathing equipment. The closer I get to that bright light at the surface, the more suffocated I feel.
Up there, somewhere, I hear my kids screaming at each other. About who had more cereal, who drank all the milk, who's day it is to do the dishes. I know I have to wake up sometime and deal with it. But how can I get up and get out of bed if I can't even wake up? How can I get out of this mess? I can't.
Anything I do would make me look like a bad mother. The guilt presses me down, into the mattress. I pull the blanket a little higher over my head and pretend I can't hear them fighting. Who am I to think I can do this? Who am I to think I can be a good parent? This isn't something I planned for or asked for, way back when I was still of the age to make plans for my future. Back when my peers were planning college or careers. I just happened into it because there was no other option for me. I guess in the beginning I told myself that, since it was my only option, I would do a better job than any of my peers. Instead of shoving my children out the door each morning and rushing them off to a school with no educational worth, I kept them home. Instead of doping up my son and teaching him how to be a drug addict as a small child, I chose to change his diet, his activities, and remove him from situations where his ADHD was aggravated.
It's so hard to open my eyes. The kids are taking advantage of all this. They will until they realize that I really can't wake up. Then they'll get quiet. They'll get even quiter when they realize I'm crying. Things will get put away, dishes will get washed, books will be brought out. Then one of the girls will, in a gentle voice, ask me to read her lesson to her. I'll drag myself up, and with bleary eyes and a runny nose, I'll read the lesson. I'll explain what to do, point out mistakes and encourage a reworking of a math problem or a spelling check. I'll listen while my son reads out loud from his history lesson and help him with the proper pronunciation of difficult words. Then, sometime around lunch, I'll drag myself out of bed and wash up. I'll get dressed then watch over the kids while they water paint or draw. I'll gripe about the open peanut butter and jelly jars and bread crumbs everywhere.
In the late afternoon they'll go outside to play, or if the weather is bad, they'll turn the t.v. on and watch cartoons or kid shows. I can only handle so much kiddie programming before I put on my big headphones and listen to music on my laptop. A day like any other day around here.
Tomorrow I may have no problem waking up at all. Tomorrow I may wake up early and cook pancakes for breakfast. I may take a cup of coffee outside and sit at the picnic table while the kids eat their breakfast. If I do, I'll call it a good day.
Maybe it will be a good day. I never know what to expect from one day to the next. I don't think any parent with depression does. Some days are good, some are bad. Some days just are what they are. I walk through them as best I can and sometimes I stumble. Sometimes I fall flat on my face, although those days are few and far between.
I comfort myself with the fact that I am not alone. I am not the only parent out there who struggles every day with kids, depression and loneliness. I am not the only one who doubts herself whenever one of the kids blurts out something inappropriate or embarrassing in a crowded grocery store. I am not the only mom who wonders if having kids ruined any chance at ever having a sex life again. I know it because I see it in the eyes of every other mother I meet. I see the pain, the sadness, the loneliness.
But there is something else there, too. Hope.
Hope that one day the kids will be grown and somehow you'll put things back together.
I see this in the eyes of moms who stay home and moms who work.
I see it in the eyes of moms who race around taking care of everything and everyone, and moms who hire other people to do it for them.
We're in Limbo. We're waiting. And while we wait, it isn't all bad. There are the crayon pictures made just for us by children who consider us to be their entire world. There are the quiet moments when no one is whining, nothing is spilled, the phone isn't ringing and there are no appointments to keep. There are the days that the pantry is full, the bills are paid, and dinner is already done and just waiting for everyone to sit down at table. There are the days that the line at the coffee shop is short and your favorite magazine or book is in stock.
These are the days we cherish. These are the days we look forward to, the ones we can sigh and say it's a good day.
Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be one of those days.
One can only Hope.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Code Name MOM
Welcome to this mom's blog.
Life is good. I spend all day raising kids, but I'm secretly a writer. I steal moments here and there, when no one is looking, and write everything that I can. Good stuff, bad stuff and that stuff that is relevant to life. It's cathartic to say the least. It keeps me sane. So I decided to publish a blog and share what I've written with the world. Don't get your hopes up though, my code name may be MOM but that doesn't mean I'm a superhero spy for the MOM inc. My writing won't save the world, but, hopefully, I just may change someones life for the better.
Life is good. I spend all day raising kids, but I'm secretly a writer. I steal moments here and there, when no one is looking, and write everything that I can. Good stuff, bad stuff and that stuff that is relevant to life. It's cathartic to say the least. It keeps me sane. So I decided to publish a blog and share what I've written with the world. Don't get your hopes up though, my code name may be MOM but that doesn't mean I'm a superhero spy for the MOM inc. My writing won't save the world, but, hopefully, I just may change someones life for the better.
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