It’s so rare that they get to go out anymore

My neighbor Sterling* (and day care provider) was telling me how Tracy* was going to be staying with her & her husband that night so that Tracy’s mom & my Sterling’s son (they’re engaged) could get a night out alone. She was saying how they used to go out all the time but now that the wedding is getting closer they hardly get the chance to go out, limiting it to the weekend and sitters cost so much. I felt my heart sink. I’m Facebook friends with all of them, I know they get to go out every Friday and Saturday without said child, I know that Sterling watches her pretty much day in and day out. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve dropped my kids off to hear “ohhh sweetie be quiet Tracy is still sleeping” because she was still there from the night before.

Straight up y’all, I’m fucking jealous. My family is so fucking far away and even when we flew 1300 miles to meet at a “half way” point with a HUGE 3 bedroom & 3 bathroom timeshare so that they wouldn’t even have to pay for a hotel… they couldn’t fucking be counted on. It pains me to see Sterling exhausted after caring for a twit of a kid and how much Tracy’s mom & Sterling’s son use her precious time. I know she enjoys taking care of Tracy and I know she loves so much. It just hurts that we don’t have that.

It’s not so rare that they go out anymore, they go out every fucking weekend, they have on demand full time day care AND babysitting. My husband and I have gone out sans children in the last three years since our first was born for a total of 9 hours. Six when we were visiting friends on a trip back to California and my son stayed with my stepmom & sister for the afternoon and three while we saw Jeff Dunham after eating pizza with the friends that were watching the kids. That is it. To me THAT is RARE.

So when it comes to seeing my family say they miss me and how I need to “come home” I get mad thinking about it. I want to go home. I want to go back to what is familiar. I want a family support system. I want my kids to know their cousins and make amazing memories. I want my kids to have grandparents that care about them… but then I think… would they? If we moved 1600 miles, sold our home, fought for jobs that paid decent, RENTED because there’s no way we could afford a house there, changed everything…. Would they have that? Would they have family to play with? Or would they be too caught up in their own worlds? Would they have grandparents to care about them or would those grandparents be “done after all the other kids”?

I’m just. I’m jealous for me and sad for my kids, all at the same time.

 

*Names changed for privacy because stalkers exist and I don’t want anyone’s feelings to get hurt.

#election

My head is spinning

I’m confused

I’m disappointed

We used to be a nation that elected someone with a military background to know they’d been previously tested with acts of war. Someone with political background and connections with other countries to keep the peace in times of crisis.

We elected someone with neither of those traits whose own campaign won’t even allow him to go on twitter for his own good. God I hope he’s just going to be a Republican puppet.

But…

As someone who has had her pussy grabbed, been assaulted, been raped, and lived through it only to be blamed by others for the actions of “men”…

As someone who had to seek out a specialist to make sure my unborn kid didn’t have a fatal form of skeletal dysplasia and contemplate a “late term abortion” (a la 21 weeks) … and then fight insurance to make sure THAT appointment was even covered…

As someone who is about to deliver a child with a disability …

As a wife to an already mixed race man…

As mother to mixed race kids …

As a friend to those struggling as LGBTQ+ to be accepted for who they are…

As a woman…

As a United States citizen…

I’m fucking appalled by the choice that was made by HALF of my fellow citizens. HALF the people in America that voted (whether only for party lines or out of hate) said I don’t matter, my life doesn’t matter, my options don’t matter, my children don’t matter, my friends don’t matter.

My fucking father is becoming more and more of a bigoted, self-righteous, piece of fucking crap if y’all want my honest opinion, up until this past year I would defend my father to the fucking death… now, not so much, since he and his buddies are all white, elderly, elitist fucks along with the woman he cheated on my step-mother with and whom he is apparently now dating full-time… basically telling everyone that his guns and POTUS were reasons he voted for Trump. Awesome dad, your guns and the –possible- threat to them were more important than anything listed above, good to know. Never mind I have my own gun “collection” that I’m not the least bit worried about… Your superiority complex to anyone that isn’t white and over the age of 35 is more important than the option for your granddaughter to have not struggled for minutes outside the womb while doctors broke her ribs to relieve pressure only for her die moments later (this was the possible outcome if she had a fatal form of skeletal dysplasia), or for her to make her own choices later on in life regarding her own body.

I’m at a fucking loss for understanding. I was not and am not a Hillary supporter, I wanted Bernie, and was willing to settle for Johnson. But lesser of two evils!? I hope and pray that the families of the men who died in the Benghazi bullshit understand that they now mean more to our country than the following people (who are alive and terrified right now):

Women

Minorities

Muslims

Immigrants

Disabled

And the list goes on and on…

 

If you voted party lines, I hope you understand the amount of power you gave a weak and worthless human being. I hope it’s worth it to you when he does nothing to “better” the party or your life. I hope POTUS will stand for the constitution and not allow Trump to make changes that set us back 50 years, as if life in ND as a woman wasn’t already hard enough, trying to imagine this across the nation is, frankly, scary.

What I really want to scream is that I hope you experience all of the hate that Trump spewed out to everyone that isn’t you. I hope you get your pussy grabbed. I hope you feel you need to flee the country before feeling the full effect of the intolerance you helped your fellow man created. I hope you feel scared for no reason other than people don’t value you as a human being. I hope you are denied basic rights because of how you were born. But I can’t, not in good conscious, because I’ve experienced only a handful of those and I wouldn’t wish that fear and anxiety on my worst enemy let alone a stranger who (possibly – mindlessly) went along with party lines for fear of electing a Machiavellian President in the form of Hillary Clinton, because it was a debate for a hot second in my mind too. Until I realized that I was worth more than that, my friends, my family, those I love & care about, we’re worth more than a party line.

The only silver lining I can see is that at least our impending war won’t likely be with Russia as Trump is so busy kissing ass to a fellow dictator.

Regardless, I’m scared.

Ella

Big Fight Over Little Woman

So my mother-in-law is here. Has been for over a week. I have no idea when she will be leaving and I’m about to lose my fucking mind.

First barrier…she speaks zero English and makes no attempt. At all.  I know enough Spanish and at least make an effort to communicate with her even if I have to bust out Google translate. Or play charades and look like a total fucking idiot. She doesn’t have to try apparently because she’s ’embarrassed’ she doesn’t understand or know English. Somehow that exempts her.

Second barrier…she is the one my husband caters to. Which I get to some degree, but for a marriage already struggling, this is not good.  I’m so fucking sick of being last and not having my feelings accounted for. It’s my house and my husband doesn’t seem to give two shits that I don’t feel like I have space in my own home.

Two examples: this Sunday I was looking for a cheese tray. An $8 cheese tray. It’s seemingly disappeared from our house. MIL saw it but after rearranging our fridge it’s no longer anywhere to be found. I can’t find a thing in my own kitchen because she puts everything away where she thinks it goes. She doesn’t bother to ask where it should go.  Why should it matter, just because it’s our house?!?  And then when I went to make breakfast she immediately started making something too. It was like Food Channel, but way more passive aggressive.  What in the actual fuck.

Third barrier…we don’t have any time for ourselves as a couple because she stays up and sits in the living room.  Wherever we are, there she is.  No fucking alone time whatsoever.

What the hubs doesn’t understand that I am not keen on having a virtual stranger in my home. We saw her a year ago and only because we traveled to her. Before that it was a year ago. This is only her second time even seeing V and she is almost 2. We’ve been married 8-1/2 years and this woman has made no attempt to get to know me. Her other daughter-in-laws?  She has them as contacts in her phone and speaks to them regularly. But not me. That part has been hurtful to me, and I feel as though I’m beyond attempting to be the one to make the effort or try.  I am done trying.  The kicker out of all this?  She typically has nothing to do with the hubs either except when he can do something for her, like fly her to see a different sibling.  Isn’t that nice?

Even now, I am sitting at our dining room table, while she is sitting by my husband, talking to him.  There’s no attempt to engage me in the conversation.  She can fuck off as far as I’m concerned.  I’d be counting the days until she leaves…but I don’t have any clue when she is fucking leaving.

I sincerely apologize for the amount of fucks in this post.  It’s either that, or lose my shit.  Although I may have already lost my shit.

“Wow! We’ve gotten a lot of cleaning done this weekend”

These should’ve been my husband’s last audible words… because the “we” he was speaking of was nonexistent. Unless of course you count the fact that he finally put away HIS clothes that had been laying in a pile (of defiance on my part) for over a week while I wrangled a toddler while 30 weeks pregnant so that I could simultaneously sweep, mop & sanitize the kitchen & dining room floor before moving onto vacuuming and shampooing the living room and hallways. I’m sure he took a 45 minute shit somewhere in that 90 minute window as well.

While he started load #1 of garage sale dishes in the dishwasher I moved on to picking up and cleaning –all- of the toys in the living room, basement, and toddler room. Cleaning up the baby room and trying to see what can fit where and how to make it “work” with cloth diapering. Doing all the laundry, whites, towels, sheets, toddler, him, me, animals, clean washer, etc. Cleaning all the bathrooms, even with shitty ventilation, I know, my bad, got a little high. He was on load #2 when I was done with all that, when I asked what he was doing while washing machine was doing it’s job… “looking up how much we can sell this stuff for, do you know this ONE plate goes for $30 on ebay, I just watched it sell after three bids”… yes ladies and gentlemen, he was monitoring ebay for dishes I bought knowing I’d sell a few since we have zero need for 23 coffee mugs, 22 dinner plates, 20 salad plates, 25 bread plates, 19 saucers, 6 tea cups, gravy boat & tray, 4 serving platters, 4 serving bowls, you get the idea, it’s a large set.

Side note on this: I grew up with my grandparents mostly who had this set of Cornell that I later found out was called “crazy daisy” which made total since that my grandmother would’ve picked it out in the 70’s since her name was Daisy. It was the ONE thing I wanted when my grandparents went because that shit survived kids & teenagers for two generations, certainly it could survive in my house. Well, we moved, I packed up two boxes of the set and happily took them with me. My husband had a friend who needed help and we moved him in… only for him to screw us royally and make it clear that if a 40 year old doesn’t have his shit together, don’t let him move in with you to try to help him get his shit together… long story short, my two boxes went missing when he left… I was crushed. I scored a couple of small sets off ebay before last thanksgiving and it was perfect, and about $89 after shipping. The part about this set that makes me additionally happy is that my husband grew up with the exact same set, the first time he came over to help me clean up my grandparents’ house he did a double take in the kitchen and starting laughing. So when I saw that my neighbors had this huge, giant, colossal set of crazy daisy I didn’t even hesitate. She said “oh those? Make me an offer” $100! She laughs. $200! “that’s not why I’m laughing, how about $50 for the set?” … If I weren’t wearing my toddler on my back I would’ve been jumping up and down, while laughing at her terrible negotiation skills, I told her about my two small sets that I paid almost $100 for after shipping and started to beg her to take the $100… she didn’t but couldn’t believe they were worth anything… so yea… the husband doing research on them… I can see taking up some time.

But when you see me recruiting our toddler to help me drag laundry hampers down the stairs maybe get off your ass and help out instead of watching ebay.

I’m convinced he is only alive still because I was too exhausted to hide the body…

-Ella

Holy Exhaustion

From the lack of sleep the past few nights, the recent travel and stress in general are creeping up on me, this morning I had two episodes that were a little concerning to me. 

The first was making coffee.   We have a little one cup brewer. I got the grounds set, put my cup underneath and pressed the power button. It lit up for a few seconds and then turned off. I tried again. Same thing. I even tried unplugging it from one outlet and into another. Same thing. By this time I was frustrated, said “fuck it!” And went upstairs to take a shower. Even told the hubs that the coffee machine was broken. 
After he left for gym I went back and looked again. It suddenly dawned on me to check if I had put water in the machine. I flipped the top up and there was no water. No wonder it wasn’t working!  

The second episode occurred when I was dropping my daughter off at school. You have to enter a 4 digit pin to mark them as dropped off, which are the last four digits of my phone. I kept pressing in the digits and it kept telling me “invalid code”. I did this like 4 times with the same result. I  had to move to the side and say my phone number to myself before I realized I had transposed two of the digits. What the fuck is going on with me?!?

Texted the husband, who called me to assure me I was just tired and not having a stroke. Because he knows how I am. 

There is not enough coffee in the world that could fix this. 

A New Toddler Experience

I had found The Little Gym and decided to try out a class with V.  We went as a family.  It is a movement class for kids from 19 months to 2.5 years old.  I cannot believe what a great time she had!

There was gymnastic equipment everywhere….tumbling mats, balance beams, bars, etc.  The instructor had us sit in a circle and work on the main mat, but told us to let the kids go if they felt comfortable enough to explore.  She said the only time we should really go get them is if we saw them doing something that was a safety concern.  As hard as it was for the hubs, we let her be.  Eventually she found her way back to us while we were playing with the other kids and families.

image1
Kiddo in an action shot!

We walked in a circle, ran, jumped, and galloped.  We got out a parachute and shook it, and then gave the kids a ride while they sat in the the middle of it.  We played with balls.  e did some trust exercises where we rolled down a ramp with our kid, using our arms as a container so we didn’t squish our kiddo.  We also did some exploration, where the instructor was encouraging us to try new things with our kadiddles.  V was on some low bars, and the instructor told us to lift her hips up so she could put her feet on the bars.  We showed her once, and then every time she went back to the bars, she put her feet up and basically bear crawled across them.  It was awesome to see her doing things that we wouldn’t have normally encouraged her to do…or even thought to have her try!

The coolest thing was watching her hang from an uneven bar.  She wasn’t even tall enough to reach the bar herself, so one of us had to lift her up.  But she was so strong, hanging around like a monkey.  And then, without warning, she let go and fell to the mat in a fit of giggles!  She immediately wanted to get up and do it again.  Another kid even copied her, falling to the mat right after her.  We were both amazed at her feat.  I forget that little kids have no fear.  It was awesome to see her enjoy herself so much and I know we will definitely be back for more fun!

Finding Your Tribe

How many of you feel that you have found your tribe?  Like your group of peeps that are “ride or die bitches” as my one girlfriend says.  The ones that you know will be there not just for the good, but also for the shitty, messy, ugly parts of life?

If you answered yes, I have this to say to you:  I’m jealous and be grateful.  Since moving to Hotlanta, I lost my (local) tribe.  I had a terrific group of close girlfriends in LA.  Ones that I could call on a moment’s notice and go over to their house if something was happening with me.  Since becoming a mom, I’ve really struggled to find a new tribe that I identify with.

Case in point – this weekend I went with 3 other acquaintances to Bad Moms.  The movie was fantastic and hysterical at times, but there were parts of it that made me really emotional, thinking about my daughter, and I was tearing up/crying.  Because in the movie, the lead character finds her tribe of weird mom friends.  Genuine friends that care about her!  The message really hit me.  I cried.  A lot.

Not one of them asked me if I was OK during or after the movie. Not one of them said a fucking word about my tears.  None of them cried.  During the movie credits, the actresses were filmed chatting with their own moms, and I cried even more.  That part hit me especially hard because of my shitty (non-existent) relationship with my own mom.  I couldn’t wait to leave to get away from them and be with my family.  I cried the entire drive home, thinking to myself, “None of these women are your real friends.  Not a single fucking one of them.”  Superficial.  They are what I like to call good time friends.  You see them when it’s a good time….but when it gets rough, they scatter and are nowhere to be found.

If I’m going to spend time away from my daughter and my husband, I want it to be with quality people.  People that want to know what is honestly going on with me.  People who want the real story of my life.  Not the glossy, positive only Facebook type picture of my life.  Because that shit ain’t real.  And I don’t have time for people in my life who are fake.

For those of you that have found your tribe, how’d you do it?  Especially you moms…how did you find a good group of women that help to support and love you?  I need any advice or suggestions you may have.

Mean Girls

Last night, we were at a friend’s house watching the opening ceremony of the Olympics.  The usual group of suspects.  As we were watching the parade of nations, we happened to keep noticing people in the march that didn’t look like athletes.  They typically were older, not as an in shape as an Olympic athlete would be.  One of my girlfriends had said, “Who are these people?”  But her commentary didn’t stop there.

She went on to say she didn’t know fat people could participate in the Olympics.  Then she looked right at me and said, “Robin, who knew?!?  Someone should have told us that you could be fat and be in the Olympics!  We may have been Olympians.”

Fuck you.  Fuck you so much.  I wanted to cry at her comment but somehow managed not to.  I was, however, stunned enough, not to utter a single reply in return.  I simply stared at her in disbelief that those words had just come out of her mouth.

Why do girls have to make such mean comments to each other?  Admittedly, I know that I am overweight, but for fuck’s sake, do you have to straight out call me fat to my face?   And in front of a big group of people?  Hearing those words really stung.

I have struggled with my weight for my entire adult life.  I don’t need someone to remind me that I’m overweight.  I don’t need someone to put me down.  I’ve had a lifetime of dealing with family that have put me down and made fun of me for my weight.  I don’t want or need to be “included” in someone’s insults or putdowns because they don’t feel good about themselves.  Hell, most days I don’t feel that great about myself, but I sure as shit don’t go around calling myself fat.   That helps nothing and no one.  Ugh, I’m still so upset about it today that I could cry again.

I don’t believe she was trying to be intentionally malicious.  I really don’t.  I do think she was trying to do a whole sister solidarity thing by lumping us together in the fat girl camp, but what she doesn’t realize is that she lost a friend last night.

And one last time, I want to say to her (if only in my head) , “Fuck you for hurting my feelings.”

What is Going On With Me?

Last week we had a sitter and were able to meet up with a large group of friends for drinks. And we uber’d there so this momma could drink!  And there were several scintillating convos from that night that have my brain working overtime.

First convo was with the Hubs’ director.  We got to talking about swapping babysitting each other’s kids since we both don’t have  family in the area. To which he replied something about wife swapping and how he’d need to get to know me a little better. In my tipsy state I told him not to tease. Later on in the night, after a few more beers, I told him “well fuck you then”. I honestly cannot recall what the specific topic was that prompted me to say that to him but I remember it being playful banter. He made a smartass comment in return. And now all I can think about is screwing my husband’s director. LOL  To be honest there are a few of his male colleagues that I think are attractive for various reasons.

Inappropriate?  Totally!  But my husband’s director is my age, good looking, completely driven and has a great sense of humor. I’d totally sleep with him!

The other convo was with a girlfriend that was with us and she told me she “Netflix’d and chilled” with another mutual girlfriend. Go to urban dictionary if you don’t know the phrase. But be warned – that site can be quite vulgar. I was shocked and asked, “For real?”  My friend excitedly shook her head yes.

When the hubs and I discussed later that weekend we were bummed as we always thought we were the most scandalous Couple out of our group of friends. Hearing about this made us wonder if we really were?!?  We talked about wanting to up our game on the freak front. Truthfully we’ve been talking about this on and off for awhile but this has fueled that fire.

I’m not sure how we will engage in more scandalous behavior, but I’ll be sure to keep you posted…