Well, I used to look forward to holidays. I used to love spending time with friends and family, laughing and enjoying the company of each and every person.
Now? I can't stand the thought of yet another holiday.
Let me tell you why:
I don't have a family to spend it with. Sure, I've got a mom and dad who invite me to things, but only if my brother and his family show up. Then, it becomes a session of waiting for what they're going to do in order to schedule everything around their time. I love my brother, and I enjoy spending time with him, but I'd also REALLY like to have something scheduled around MY time for once as well.
Also, since separating from my wife, I don't have someone I really want to spend much time with. I mean, I spend quite a bit of time with my roommates, but they have work schedules and families of their own to spend time with, and I don't want to become some kind of hindrance with their lives. My wife doesn't really want me around, so I'm trying to keep my distance there, and let her move on with her life, since it seems like that is what she's really desiring at this time.
Then there's my kids. I get them, but only for a set period of time, and then they go back to my ex, and I get to return to a cold and empty house. I could try to say that I'm starting to get used to living on my own again, but that would just be another lie.
I hate living on my own. I'm alone. I'm bored. I'm frustrated that there's nothing I can do to fix this feeling. Why? Becuase I'm staying true to my wife until such time as she either cuts me loose, or asks me back. I've sworn to be faithful, so faithful I'll be until she cuts me off from those vows. Who knows? Maybe by then I could care less, and still remain faithful.
The worst part is just sitting, and letting the mind run amok. Feelings, thoughts, memories all flood in and overwhelm me. In order to escape it, I run away to a pretend land of monsters and such.. I play games, and escape reality until something else comes along to divert my mind and attention.
It's not a good coping mechanism, but it's working for me, so I'm going to keep with it.
Hope you all have a great 4th. Celebrate, enjoy, and live vicariously.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Long time, no post!!
Yeah, I'm writing.. Be amazed.
I've decided to come clean about some things in my past. Judge me how you will, but I've got to air things that have been bothering me lately. Some of you will think that I'm just writing to get responses from people. Others will assume that I'm dramatizing things. Others, that I'm just making this shit up to get readers.
None of that could be further from the truth.
I'm writing today about something in my past that is going to haunt me the rest of my life.
Let's set the stage for my story:
Back before I got married for the first time, I was on top of the world. I had a steady income. I was fresh out of military service, and nothing could stop me. The world was my candy shop, and I had a fist full of cash to spend.
I met my first wife, and we got married VERY young. She'd just graduated High School, and I was barely into my mid-20s. Then, my oldest son was born less than a year later. I was hardly prepared for married life, let alone the pressure and stress of being a parent. I lost jobs, mainly because I was overqualified for the positions I filled. I made managers nervous about the potential for me to take over their jobs, and because of this, I would get let go from jobs for menial reasons.
My wife decided she didn't want to go to college. She decided that she'd rather go to a business school, and get job training to go straight into a paying job right out of her classes. I begged borrowed and outright lied to family in order to get the cash to send her to Medical Assistant classes. While she went to school, I moonlighted at whatever job I could find. Labor positions, fast food, construction temp worker.. You name it, I worked it for at least six months. Then, she graduated, and our ship that was supposed to come in sank like a rock. The employer that agreed to hire her dropped her after two weeks because the doctor's daughter decided she wanted to work that summer, and my ex was the last employee hired.
Enter in more stress. Bills didn't get paid. Money was running tight. We got tossed out of apartments for failure to make rent and utilities. Even my in-laws and my own parents wouldn't take us in. We had hit rock bottom.
Then, a small ray of light.
The church we'd been attending announced our problem to a small bible study group one week. We prayed, and one younger couple offered us the chance of a lifetime. They had just married, and they each owned a house. They were willing to allow my wife and son and I to move into her old house, rent free, in exchange for work on the building. We jumped at the chance, and agreed with no hesitation. It wasn't in the nicest part of town, but at least it was a roof over our heads, and some measure of stability back.
At this time, my oldest son started school, and problems began. Teachers kept complaining to us that he couldn't stay on task. He was having issues with talking back to teachers, and not respecting authority. (My son! Who'd have thought, right??) So, I was able to scratch enough money together to get my son seen by a mental health specialist after my mother told me that he could be showing signs of ADD or ADHD.
Yeah. The dreaded parent-eater diagnosis. ADD.
The shrink agreed that he was definitely ADD, and needed to be put on medication in order to remedy his actions. Needing to have him behave and conform to his school standards, we agreed. Ritalin didn't work. He didn't have any kind of reaction at all to the medication. After a week, the doctor decided to put him on a different med. So we started a time-release drug called Concerta. That's when all hell broke loose.
He'd have manic episodes. I recall one time seeing him clutching a stuffed bear, crouched under our kitchen table screaming at shadows. He'd get angry, and lash out at anything close. Anger was ALWAYS under the surface, even when he seemed calm and happy.
Then, the fateful day happened.
One night, I was home getting the kids into bed. As my oldest finished brushing his teeth, he suddenly started yelling about how I wasn't going to force him to do anything, and he wasn't going to bed. I was tired, it had been a long day, and I wasn't about to be talked to by my son like this, so I picked him up, and bodily put him into bed. He proceeded to yell, scream, punch, and curse at me about how bad a father I was, how we needed to die, and we was going to kill us all that night. I grabbed him by the arms, laid him back, and told him to be quiet and go to sleep. He yanked himself out of my grasp, and screamed "Fuck you!" at me.
I saw red.
Then I did something that I've regretted now for over 10 years.
I reached back, intending to slap his mouth for the language he'd used. It was what my parents and grandparents had done when I was a child, I figured it was OK for me to use it as well.
He moved.
My hand didn't change direction, and I ended up hitting him just below his left eye. It wasn't a hard slap, but from an adult to a young child, it was like a punch from a prize-winning fighter.
He stopped screaming, and huddled in the corner of his bed, staring at me. I couldn't say a word, so I just left his room, shaking and afraid of what I'd done.
The next morning my son had a black eye. My actions had not only caused me pain from doing them, but had left their mark as if to tell me that not only was I a bad parent, but I was also an abusive one.
My son went to school, came home, did his chores and homework, and then went to a friend's house to play before dinner. While there playing, the mother of his friend asked my son how he got his black eye. My son answered simply:
"My dad hit me."
Those four words caused my world to end. The mother, instead of calling and talking to me called the police. I was arrested, and booked in jail for domestic assault. While driving there, I had one of the arresting officers tell me how bad of a parent I was, being able to hit a child who can't defend themself.
Since that day, I've regretted the decision I made to hit my son. Especially in anger.
Now, I know there are more constructive ways to deal with the yelling and screaming, and I can basically tune out the harsh words and nasty criticisms.
What I can't change are actions that can leave marks.
To attest to my diligence to be a better father, I can safely say that I now have full custody of my kids, and they honestly love living with me. I'm a changed man. But there is still a part of me that fears the beast I have inside of me that tells me that physical punishment isn't a bad thing, and needs to be used more often.
Maybe someday I'll come to terms with my spectre, but for now, I just try to keep it locked away safely inside where it can only harm me, and nobody else.
Love your kids.
They're your legacy in this world, and speak volumes about your love, your life, and your values.
I've decided to come clean about some things in my past. Judge me how you will, but I've got to air things that have been bothering me lately. Some of you will think that I'm just writing to get responses from people. Others will assume that I'm dramatizing things. Others, that I'm just making this shit up to get readers.
None of that could be further from the truth.
I'm writing today about something in my past that is going to haunt me the rest of my life.
Let's set the stage for my story:
Back before I got married for the first time, I was on top of the world. I had a steady income. I was fresh out of military service, and nothing could stop me. The world was my candy shop, and I had a fist full of cash to spend.
I met my first wife, and we got married VERY young. She'd just graduated High School, and I was barely into my mid-20s. Then, my oldest son was born less than a year later. I was hardly prepared for married life, let alone the pressure and stress of being a parent. I lost jobs, mainly because I was overqualified for the positions I filled. I made managers nervous about the potential for me to take over their jobs, and because of this, I would get let go from jobs for menial reasons.
My wife decided she didn't want to go to college. She decided that she'd rather go to a business school, and get job training to go straight into a paying job right out of her classes. I begged borrowed and outright lied to family in order to get the cash to send her to Medical Assistant classes. While she went to school, I moonlighted at whatever job I could find. Labor positions, fast food, construction temp worker.. You name it, I worked it for at least six months. Then, she graduated, and our ship that was supposed to come in sank like a rock. The employer that agreed to hire her dropped her after two weeks because the doctor's daughter decided she wanted to work that summer, and my ex was the last employee hired.
Enter in more stress. Bills didn't get paid. Money was running tight. We got tossed out of apartments for failure to make rent and utilities. Even my in-laws and my own parents wouldn't take us in. We had hit rock bottom.
Then, a small ray of light.
The church we'd been attending announced our problem to a small bible study group one week. We prayed, and one younger couple offered us the chance of a lifetime. They had just married, and they each owned a house. They were willing to allow my wife and son and I to move into her old house, rent free, in exchange for work on the building. We jumped at the chance, and agreed with no hesitation. It wasn't in the nicest part of town, but at least it was a roof over our heads, and some measure of stability back.
At this time, my oldest son started school, and problems began. Teachers kept complaining to us that he couldn't stay on task. He was having issues with talking back to teachers, and not respecting authority. (My son! Who'd have thought, right??) So, I was able to scratch enough money together to get my son seen by a mental health specialist after my mother told me that he could be showing signs of ADD or ADHD.
Yeah. The dreaded parent-eater diagnosis. ADD.
The shrink agreed that he was definitely ADD, and needed to be put on medication in order to remedy his actions. Needing to have him behave and conform to his school standards, we agreed. Ritalin didn't work. He didn't have any kind of reaction at all to the medication. After a week, the doctor decided to put him on a different med. So we started a time-release drug called Concerta. That's when all hell broke loose.
He'd have manic episodes. I recall one time seeing him clutching a stuffed bear, crouched under our kitchen table screaming at shadows. He'd get angry, and lash out at anything close. Anger was ALWAYS under the surface, even when he seemed calm and happy.
Then, the fateful day happened.
One night, I was home getting the kids into bed. As my oldest finished brushing his teeth, he suddenly started yelling about how I wasn't going to force him to do anything, and he wasn't going to bed. I was tired, it had been a long day, and I wasn't about to be talked to by my son like this, so I picked him up, and bodily put him into bed. He proceeded to yell, scream, punch, and curse at me about how bad a father I was, how we needed to die, and we was going to kill us all that night. I grabbed him by the arms, laid him back, and told him to be quiet and go to sleep. He yanked himself out of my grasp, and screamed "Fuck you!" at me.
I saw red.
Then I did something that I've regretted now for over 10 years.
I reached back, intending to slap his mouth for the language he'd used. It was what my parents and grandparents had done when I was a child, I figured it was OK for me to use it as well.
He moved.
My hand didn't change direction, and I ended up hitting him just below his left eye. It wasn't a hard slap, but from an adult to a young child, it was like a punch from a prize-winning fighter.
He stopped screaming, and huddled in the corner of his bed, staring at me. I couldn't say a word, so I just left his room, shaking and afraid of what I'd done.
The next morning my son had a black eye. My actions had not only caused me pain from doing them, but had left their mark as if to tell me that not only was I a bad parent, but I was also an abusive one.
My son went to school, came home, did his chores and homework, and then went to a friend's house to play before dinner. While there playing, the mother of his friend asked my son how he got his black eye. My son answered simply:
"My dad hit me."
Those four words caused my world to end. The mother, instead of calling and talking to me called the police. I was arrested, and booked in jail for domestic assault. While driving there, I had one of the arresting officers tell me how bad of a parent I was, being able to hit a child who can't defend themself.
Since that day, I've regretted the decision I made to hit my son. Especially in anger.
Now, I know there are more constructive ways to deal with the yelling and screaming, and I can basically tune out the harsh words and nasty criticisms.
What I can't change are actions that can leave marks.
To attest to my diligence to be a better father, I can safely say that I now have full custody of my kids, and they honestly love living with me. I'm a changed man. But there is still a part of me that fears the beast I have inside of me that tells me that physical punishment isn't a bad thing, and needs to be used more often.
Maybe someday I'll come to terms with my spectre, but for now, I just try to keep it locked away safely inside where it can only harm me, and nobody else.
Love your kids.
They're your legacy in this world, and speak volumes about your love, your life, and your values.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
My deepest apologies...
It occurs to me that I've been remiss, to you. My friends, my online readers, I sincerely apologize.
One of the things that I swore I'd do when I started this blog was that I would post, NO MATTER WHAT, and keep folks entertained.
However, I made that resolution to myself before things in my work and family life went haywire.
As such, I've been away FAR too long, and I've really missed the reading and comments from those of you who have been my faithful supporters.
I can't promise that I'll post often. Right now things are WAY too much in flux for me to be able to make that kind of promise.
But what I do promise is that when I get the time, you can be sure that I'll tickle these keyboard keys, and at least let you all know that I'm still here, and that the mind is still running overtime, ok?
Now, on to the real reason I'm posting:
Coming up next week, the wife and I are headed for Vegas for a few days.
Yup. Vegas. The adult playground. City of slot machines, booze, women (and men!) and gangsters..
The only real problem I can see in this trip is going to be how much time she and I actually spend together.
"How so?" you might ask. Well, here's the answer:
We're not going there alone. We're taking another couple-friend of ours along. My wife's best friend and her fiancee are coming along as well.
Don't get me wrong. I like these two. I just haven't found a happy medium for spending time with them and also spending time with my wife.
I mean, when my wife's friend is around, she tends to spend her time talking with her, gossiping with her, and watching reality TV shows. While this is going on, a remarkable change also comes over my wife, and she tends to envelop the views of her friend as well. That is when I become a lazy slob. One of those guys that is only good for going to work to help provide a bit of the paycheck, and doesn't do jack around the rest of the house.
Yeah. It blows.
Then, there's the husband. I like this guy. He actually reminds me of myself in my younger years. He's family oriented, and very personable. He loves video games.. Heck, he likes them even more than I do!
However, he's also still young enough that he wants to go out and raise hell each and every night. Me? I'm the old dog, and can't do that so much anymore. Heck, I can hardly drink to excess anymore!
Therein lies the problem:
I'm pretty sure that the wife and I will be spending some time together. However, is that time going to be painted with her nagging at me about things I should be doing, or things that I could get done when we get home, or is it actually going to be fun?
The time we spend apart is going to be interesting as well. Is he going to want to drag me off to various strip clubs? Am I going to be getting the 3rd degree from the wife about what we've done? How manageable is the wife going to be after spending a full day with her girlfriend?
Yeah, I know. Don't count the eggs until they've hatched.
Yet I'm torn.
I want to look forward to this vacation. I want to be excited about it.
But I can't also help but feel that somewhere along the line something's going to go badly, and the fallout is going to be horrendous.
Keep an eye out for me if you're in Vegas, and lay a bet down on the table! After all, it's my third trip there, and that's gotta mean something, doesn't it??
Have a great Father's Day weekend this coming week. I'll be spending it at the Blackjack tables!
One of the things that I swore I'd do when I started this blog was that I would post, NO MATTER WHAT, and keep folks entertained.
However, I made that resolution to myself before things in my work and family life went haywire.
As such, I've been away FAR too long, and I've really missed the reading and comments from those of you who have been my faithful supporters.
I can't promise that I'll post often. Right now things are WAY too much in flux for me to be able to make that kind of promise.
But what I do promise is that when I get the time, you can be sure that I'll tickle these keyboard keys, and at least let you all know that I'm still here, and that the mind is still running overtime, ok?
Now, on to the real reason I'm posting:
Coming up next week, the wife and I are headed for Vegas for a few days.
Yup. Vegas. The adult playground. City of slot machines, booze, women (and men!) and gangsters..
The only real problem I can see in this trip is going to be how much time she and I actually spend together.
"How so?" you might ask. Well, here's the answer:
We're not going there alone. We're taking another couple-friend of ours along. My wife's best friend and her fiancee are coming along as well.
Don't get me wrong. I like these two. I just haven't found a happy medium for spending time with them and also spending time with my wife.
I mean, when my wife's friend is around, she tends to spend her time talking with her, gossiping with her, and watching reality TV shows. While this is going on, a remarkable change also comes over my wife, and she tends to envelop the views of her friend as well. That is when I become a lazy slob. One of those guys that is only good for going to work to help provide a bit of the paycheck, and doesn't do jack around the rest of the house.
Yeah. It blows.
Then, there's the husband. I like this guy. He actually reminds me of myself in my younger years. He's family oriented, and very personable. He loves video games.. Heck, he likes them even more than I do!
However, he's also still young enough that he wants to go out and raise hell each and every night. Me? I'm the old dog, and can't do that so much anymore. Heck, I can hardly drink to excess anymore!
Therein lies the problem:
I'm pretty sure that the wife and I will be spending some time together. However, is that time going to be painted with her nagging at me about things I should be doing, or things that I could get done when we get home, or is it actually going to be fun?
The time we spend apart is going to be interesting as well. Is he going to want to drag me off to various strip clubs? Am I going to be getting the 3rd degree from the wife about what we've done? How manageable is the wife going to be after spending a full day with her girlfriend?
Yeah, I know. Don't count the eggs until they've hatched.
Yet I'm torn.
I want to look forward to this vacation. I want to be excited about it.
But I can't also help but feel that somewhere along the line something's going to go badly, and the fallout is going to be horrendous.
Keep an eye out for me if you're in Vegas, and lay a bet down on the table! After all, it's my third trip there, and that's gotta mean something, doesn't it??
Have a great Father's Day weekend this coming week. I'll be spending it at the Blackjack tables!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Back, and with a new perspective!
Well, it's been a while since I've posted, and I'm not sure really where to begin here.
Things seem to be better at the house. We're not fighting, but yet there still seems to be a bit of tension running just under the surface. I don't know if this is just me, and I'm fooling myself, yet it really does feel like I'm playing with a tripwire I can't see, and the bomb it's connected to could go off at any moment.
However, until such time, I'll be willing to make things seem normal and stable if only for the sake of the kids, who were concerned about where things were going.
I'm also trying to see if taking more time to focus on my wife will help matters. Maybe I've been too self-absorbed, and haven't been spending enough time with her and tending to her needs.. Maybe we need to have personal getaway time each time the kids are at their mom's for the weekend.. Maybe I should focus more on what I love about her, instead of the things that irritate me..
Speaking of that, let me ask you all something.
As men, do you often wonder why ladies will complain about the things you do (and especially the things you DON'T do) when they get together? My wife and her two close girlfriends watch TV shows at our place on Tuesdays and Wednesdays on most weeks, and even though they try to be quiet, some of the conversation can be easily overheard, and I can hear them talk about such things. How he's doing this, and it bothers them. Or he's NOT doing this, and he really should. Why can't he do this, like she's seen other guys do? Et Cetera..
When I've been out with my guy friends, we will sometimes talk about our wives, but for the most part we avoid this. Why? Because we want to have a good time, and not have something possibly get back to the wife that we'll have to pay for later. Plain, simple, easy.
Ladies: Why do you feel the need to complain or compare your significant other to people? Why is it that just being a person isn't good enough? Are there times where you feel they just won't listen, and so talking about personal things with friends is going to better or help the situation?
Heh. Listen to me here. I'm complaining and asking for information from interweb folks about a subject that really kind of strikes me as being a bit oxymoronic...
Let's just say that I don't understand the need for comparison or complaint.
Yeah, there are times when I've found myself comparing my wife to other people. However, when I _do_ find myself doing this, I stop. I prefer to take my wife at face value. I appreciate the things she does, and I love her for the person she is, not the person she could become.
How about all of you? What are your thoughts?
Things seem to be better at the house. We're not fighting, but yet there still seems to be a bit of tension running just under the surface. I don't know if this is just me, and I'm fooling myself, yet it really does feel like I'm playing with a tripwire I can't see, and the bomb it's connected to could go off at any moment.
However, until such time, I'll be willing to make things seem normal and stable if only for the sake of the kids, who were concerned about where things were going.
I'm also trying to see if taking more time to focus on my wife will help matters. Maybe I've been too self-absorbed, and haven't been spending enough time with her and tending to her needs.. Maybe we need to have personal getaway time each time the kids are at their mom's for the weekend.. Maybe I should focus more on what I love about her, instead of the things that irritate me..
Speaking of that, let me ask you all something.
As men, do you often wonder why ladies will complain about the things you do (and especially the things you DON'T do) when they get together? My wife and her two close girlfriends watch TV shows at our place on Tuesdays and Wednesdays on most weeks, and even though they try to be quiet, some of the conversation can be easily overheard, and I can hear them talk about such things. How he's doing this, and it bothers them. Or he's NOT doing this, and he really should. Why can't he do this, like she's seen other guys do? Et Cetera..
When I've been out with my guy friends, we will sometimes talk about our wives, but for the most part we avoid this. Why? Because we want to have a good time, and not have something possibly get back to the wife that we'll have to pay for later. Plain, simple, easy.
Ladies: Why do you feel the need to complain or compare your significant other to people? Why is it that just being a person isn't good enough? Are there times where you feel they just won't listen, and so talking about personal things with friends is going to better or help the situation?
Heh. Listen to me here. I'm complaining and asking for information from interweb folks about a subject that really kind of strikes me as being a bit oxymoronic...
Let's just say that I don't understand the need for comparison or complaint.
Yeah, there are times when I've found myself comparing my wife to other people. However, when I _do_ find myself doing this, I stop. I prefer to take my wife at face value. I appreciate the things she does, and I love her for the person she is, not the person she could become.
How about all of you? What are your thoughts?
Friday, April 17, 2009
Things that are bothering me..
Have you ever felt like even though you're married, you're just "playing house"?
I mean, you have a solid relationship, yet the passion and little things just aren't there. You're kind of running off a set script of things that "all married folks are supposed to do" and there's just no spontinaety or passion in the relationship just don't seem to be there. The spark seems to have died?
Yeah. Me too.
But I refuse to give up.
I love this person I'm with. I adore her, actually.
Not only that, but I made her a promise, and I'm going to stick to it.
You all might have heard it a couple of times before. You know the one I'm talking about..
"For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. As long as we both shall live."
Yeah. That promise.
Sure, there are times where it seems like all we're really dealing with is the worse, and we wonder where the heck the better went to. Sometimes richer seems so far off, and we're stuck with the poorer. Some of us are stuck in the sickness part, and wonder if any health is on the way.
Yet I've got to be stubborn.
I made this woman a promise. Not only that, but I also told this to her parents, my parents, her friends, and my friends as well.
What kind of man could I consider myself if things got tough, and I just decided to quit?
What kind of father could I consider myself if I can't set an example for my boys about making commitments, and then not follow through on them?
What kind of example would I be giving my daughter if I were to jump from wife to wife? What kind of self-esteem issues will that make for her in her later years when she potentially decides to marry? Is she going to think that she's as expendable as the women I married?
Maybe I'm just not willing to see the big picture. Maybe in some way I'm being an egotistical bastard, and I'm not giving a damn about someone else's feelings.
However, I still have to be true to myself.
And the truth is that I love this person, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep my promises and vows.
My hope is that each and every one of you feels the same way, and can possibly share this with your significant other or spouse.
The greatest gift each human being posesses is the ability to love. Don't squander it.
I'll talk with you all next week.
I mean, you have a solid relationship, yet the passion and little things just aren't there. You're kind of running off a set script of things that "all married folks are supposed to do" and there's just no spontinaety or passion in the relationship just don't seem to be there. The spark seems to have died?
Yeah. Me too.
But I refuse to give up.
I love this person I'm with. I adore her, actually.
Not only that, but I made her a promise, and I'm going to stick to it.
You all might have heard it a couple of times before. You know the one I'm talking about..
"For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. As long as we both shall live."
Yeah. That promise.
Sure, there are times where it seems like all we're really dealing with is the worse, and we wonder where the heck the better went to. Sometimes richer seems so far off, and we're stuck with the poorer. Some of us are stuck in the sickness part, and wonder if any health is on the way.
Yet I've got to be stubborn.
I made this woman a promise. Not only that, but I also told this to her parents, my parents, her friends, and my friends as well.
What kind of man could I consider myself if things got tough, and I just decided to quit?
What kind of father could I consider myself if I can't set an example for my boys about making commitments, and then not follow through on them?
What kind of example would I be giving my daughter if I were to jump from wife to wife? What kind of self-esteem issues will that make for her in her later years when she potentially decides to marry? Is she going to think that she's as expendable as the women I married?
Maybe I'm just not willing to see the big picture. Maybe in some way I'm being an egotistical bastard, and I'm not giving a damn about someone else's feelings.
However, I still have to be true to myself.
And the truth is that I love this person, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep my promises and vows.
My hope is that each and every one of you feels the same way, and can possibly share this with your significant other or spouse.
The greatest gift each human being posesses is the ability to love. Don't squander it.
I'll talk with you all next week.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Like all good things...
Yes kiddies, I'm having to trim down the amount of time I spend blogging.
I've made a promise to myself to not post while at work. I've come to realize that my income is near and dear to my family, and for me to put that in jeopardy by writing about things that upset me for the enjoyment of others is irresponsible.
Now? Well, I've decided to post when I can while at home. It's not going to be as steady and as usual as it has been in the past, but there will be odd times when I'll be able to get free, and rant and rave about things that have set me off.
As a few of you know, I'm also dealing with some harsh and serious things on the home front as well, and right now one of my major focuses is going to be on resolving these issues once and for all.
So your thoughts and concerns are welcome, and I dearly hope that I won't lose your readership while I take time to clean house.
Have a great day, and I'll talk to you again soon.
I've made a promise to myself to not post while at work. I've come to realize that my income is near and dear to my family, and for me to put that in jeopardy by writing about things that upset me for the enjoyment of others is irresponsible.
Now? Well, I've decided to post when I can while at home. It's not going to be as steady and as usual as it has been in the past, but there will be odd times when I'll be able to get free, and rant and rave about things that have set me off.
As a few of you know, I'm also dealing with some harsh and serious things on the home front as well, and right now one of my major focuses is going to be on resolving these issues once and for all.
So your thoughts and concerns are welcome, and I dearly hope that I won't lose your readership while I take time to clean house.
Have a great day, and I'll talk to you again soon.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Tuesday Blues
Well, as some of you know, I work Tuesday through Friday, and have the weekend off, plus Mondays.
So the normal doldrums of Monday really don't seem to affect me as much as others who have to go back to work on Mondays.
However, Tuesdays for me really kind of suck.
As with most things that I plan, nothing really seems to go according to schedule with my weekends.
I had planned on working on the house. It never got done.
I had planned on cleaning up some of my mess outside with brush that I've been trimming. That didn't get done either, because I'm not one for getting soaked outside when it's nice and dry inside.
I'd thought about taking the wife away to the beach for the weekend. That didn't happen because she'd already made plans, and the weather SUCKED this weekend.
So what did I do?
Nothing.
Not ONE thing.
I sat around the house like a lump, and wondered what I was going to do.
I hate weekends like that.
Usually, I solve that problem by going and playing video games (as I've said before, I'm a gamer!) And because of this, games are an end-all solution to problems.
However, I've also noticed that my excessive game playing has caused problems with the family, so I'm trying to "detox" with the excessive gaming, and work on other constructive ways of dealing with things.
So I was able to do this by just sitting around and watching paint dry.
Yeah. I don't think my idea is working too well yet.
Weekends when my kids are gone to my ex's house are really kind of tough on me. When my kids are at the house, it's kind of easy to forget about the games because I can fill my time with things other than the computer or game system. There are young bodies to tickle, wrestle with, and have fun with.
But when they're gone, the house just seems so empty. There's always a mess or two that didn't get taken care of before they left, and so I'm reminded that they're gone (temporarily) and that I'm alone.
Since getting custody of my kids, there's been one major problem that I've had to face. The toughest part about being a divorced father is trying to stabilize my kids with rules and regulations for my home, but those rules can directly clash with the things my ex will enforce.
My wife and I have tried numerous times to talk with my ex, and get us all on the same page. Yet for all of our efforts, things don't change. Sure, she'll (my ex) give us all of the yes-man attitude, and claim that she'll do her part, but when it comes down to basics, she's always done her own thing, regardless of the problems it may cause not only me, but the kids as well.
I had to face this problem when they got back home this weekend.
My oldest is 13. He's feeling his age, and is trying to learn how to mentally grow. I've encouraged his thinking, and I've tried to instill in him a need to provide stability when he can. Yet for all of my effort, there's a side of his personality that I admire, yet find difficult to deal with when he gets back from his mom's house.
That part is what I tend to call his "lawyer" side.
I encourage his questions. I love seeing his mind work through things, and figure out the next step. I don't love it when he argues an issue to death, and even when proven incorrect, will still argue some points that he feels are valid and warrant special attention.
Take this example:
I, as a gamer, have been persuading (read nagging) my wife for an XBox 360. I have friends who play, and I'd love to get some serious multiplayer Halo or Call of Duty going without having to go over to his house each and every time we'd want to play. My son knows this. He's in favor of the idea mainly because he'd love to be able to play along at some point. After all, playing games with the "big boys" means that he's growing up, right?
So this weekend when he got home, he proceeded to argue with my wife about how we needed to get this gaming system, and the valid reasons for it. I personally don't care if we get this system anytime soon, because I've got other things that can fill my attention span, and keep me occupied. My wife doesn't want another game system in the house, as we've already got a Wii and a "regular" XBox, so the two game consoles are plenty for her.
My son wouldn't let up. He argued. He pleaded, and he begged.
I've tried to teach him that when a parent says "no" that it's final. End of discussion. However, while at his mom's house, I know for a fact (because I've seen it) that the other kids in the house don't abide by these rules. They question, the complain, and they outright defy their parents.
How can I set any kind of ground rules for my family when those rules are completely tossed aside each weekend that they leave my house? How can I instill values that are going to be ignored and rejected by the authority figures my children are living with?
I'm not sure.
All I can hope to do right now is keep the faith.
I give them my unconditional love, my promise of safety and security, and my undying support.
My hope and prayer is that they'll see the good, and want to keep the lessons and things I've taught, and mostly block those things that aren't as constructive that they see and live with at their mom's house.
This is the prayer of a divorced father.
So the normal doldrums of Monday really don't seem to affect me as much as others who have to go back to work on Mondays.
However, Tuesdays for me really kind of suck.
As with most things that I plan, nothing really seems to go according to schedule with my weekends.
I had planned on working on the house. It never got done.
I had planned on cleaning up some of my mess outside with brush that I've been trimming. That didn't get done either, because I'm not one for getting soaked outside when it's nice and dry inside.
I'd thought about taking the wife away to the beach for the weekend. That didn't happen because she'd already made plans, and the weather SUCKED this weekend.
So what did I do?
Nothing.
Not ONE thing.
I sat around the house like a lump, and wondered what I was going to do.
I hate weekends like that.
Usually, I solve that problem by going and playing video games (as I've said before, I'm a gamer!) And because of this, games are an end-all solution to problems.
However, I've also noticed that my excessive game playing has caused problems with the family, so I'm trying to "detox" with the excessive gaming, and work on other constructive ways of dealing with things.
So I was able to do this by just sitting around and watching paint dry.
Yeah. I don't think my idea is working too well yet.
Weekends when my kids are gone to my ex's house are really kind of tough on me. When my kids are at the house, it's kind of easy to forget about the games because I can fill my time with things other than the computer or game system. There are young bodies to tickle, wrestle with, and have fun with.
But when they're gone, the house just seems so empty. There's always a mess or two that didn't get taken care of before they left, and so I'm reminded that they're gone (temporarily) and that I'm alone.
Since getting custody of my kids, there's been one major problem that I've had to face. The toughest part about being a divorced father is trying to stabilize my kids with rules and regulations for my home, but those rules can directly clash with the things my ex will enforce.
My wife and I have tried numerous times to talk with my ex, and get us all on the same page. Yet for all of our efforts, things don't change. Sure, she'll (my ex) give us all of the yes-man attitude, and claim that she'll do her part, but when it comes down to basics, she's always done her own thing, regardless of the problems it may cause not only me, but the kids as well.
I had to face this problem when they got back home this weekend.
My oldest is 13. He's feeling his age, and is trying to learn how to mentally grow. I've encouraged his thinking, and I've tried to instill in him a need to provide stability when he can. Yet for all of my effort, there's a side of his personality that I admire, yet find difficult to deal with when he gets back from his mom's house.
That part is what I tend to call his "lawyer" side.
I encourage his questions. I love seeing his mind work through things, and figure out the next step. I don't love it when he argues an issue to death, and even when proven incorrect, will still argue some points that he feels are valid and warrant special attention.
Take this example:
I, as a gamer, have been persuading (read nagging) my wife for an XBox 360. I have friends who play, and I'd love to get some serious multiplayer Halo or Call of Duty going without having to go over to his house each and every time we'd want to play. My son knows this. He's in favor of the idea mainly because he'd love to be able to play along at some point. After all, playing games with the "big boys" means that he's growing up, right?
So this weekend when he got home, he proceeded to argue with my wife about how we needed to get this gaming system, and the valid reasons for it. I personally don't care if we get this system anytime soon, because I've got other things that can fill my attention span, and keep me occupied. My wife doesn't want another game system in the house, as we've already got a Wii and a "regular" XBox, so the two game consoles are plenty for her.
My son wouldn't let up. He argued. He pleaded, and he begged.
I've tried to teach him that when a parent says "no" that it's final. End of discussion. However, while at his mom's house, I know for a fact (because I've seen it) that the other kids in the house don't abide by these rules. They question, the complain, and they outright defy their parents.
How can I set any kind of ground rules for my family when those rules are completely tossed aside each weekend that they leave my house? How can I instill values that are going to be ignored and rejected by the authority figures my children are living with?
I'm not sure.
All I can hope to do right now is keep the faith.
I give them my unconditional love, my promise of safety and security, and my undying support.
My hope and prayer is that they'll see the good, and want to keep the lessons and things I've taught, and mostly block those things that aren't as constructive that they see and live with at their mom's house.
This is the prayer of a divorced father.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Vacation day #2
Well, we decided to start early again on day two. It was a Sunday, and to start things off, it really wasn't that bad. A bit overcast, but a nice day overall.
We returned to Disneyland, and ran to a few of the attractions that we hadn't gotten to in our last visit. This also allowed us to kill some time as California Adventure (the Disney park right across from Disneyland) didn't open until 10:00..
So we ran around a bit more, dealing with minor crowds, but nothing even approaching the massive spawn of humanity that we had to deal with the previous day.
We went in and did the Jungle cruise, Pirates of the Caribbean, the Haunted Mansion, and then we took on Splash Mountain. I have to admit, I got SOAKED. There were six of us in the boat, as my youngest son didn't want to go on the ride. So my dad stayed down with him, and they did some more tame rides while the rest of us went on the water ride. My son and niece sat up in front, then my daughter and mom in the middle, and my wife and I took the back seats.
Big. Mistake.
Putting the adults in the back three seats only begged for the boat to swap with water each and every time we turned a corner. Not to mention how much water slopped over the sides when we went down any kind of incline.
At the end of the ride, I waddled out to try to find some dry spot on my clothing, and decided it was best to find a place to camp out for a while, and drip-dry.
So, we had lunch, and then proceeded to cross over to California Adventure!
This park reminds me more of a carnival-type of place, and not really much of a theme park.
Sure, there are themed areas, but for the most part, it's an attempt to combine the fun of Disneyland and the thrill of a carnival ride. I liked the "Soaring over California" ride, the "Tower of Terror" Twilight Zone elevator drop, California Screamin' rollercoaster, and the Mali-Boomer jet ride. These rides more than made up for the line waits, and the pablem of kiddie rides dispersed all through the park.
However, my downfall again on this visit was to be water.
The favorite ride of our family group turned out to be one of my serious nemesis-type rides of the vacation. Namely, the Grizzly River Rapids Run.
Yes, another water ride.
The first time, we found that each "inner tube" raft was capable of fitting all 8 of us in one cart. So we piled in, and I noticed that my wife and my dad were sitting close to me. This became noteworthy in that I got drenched during the ride. This is when I also made the discovery about the drains in the rafts, and that these said drains not only drain water from the ride, but they allow water to shoot into the ride as well!
Yeah. I was soaked.
But it was so much fun that we went again.
Two more times, in fact.
I think I got more water from those three rides than all of the rainstorms I've ever been in combined. And that's saying something coming from a lifetime resident of the Pacific Northwest!
Anyway, at the end of the day I was able to drop dry sufficiently for us to leave, grab a shuttle bus to our hotel, and call it a grand adventure. We topped it off with a view of the Disney Park, and watched the fireworks presentation from our balcony.
We slept good that night, if only because of the sheer exhaustion from being in the parks from open until nearly close two nights in a row.
More about day 3 tomorrow!
Now, a different note:
Veronica (am I the only one who pictures the Archies comic of the spoiled little rich girl??) better known as ASM (Another Suburban Mom) awarded me my very first prize for my blog!
I don't know all of the details, but I'm going to read up on it more, and see about posting it later today or tomorrow!
We returned to Disneyland, and ran to a few of the attractions that we hadn't gotten to in our last visit. This also allowed us to kill some time as California Adventure (the Disney park right across from Disneyland) didn't open until 10:00..
So we ran around a bit more, dealing with minor crowds, but nothing even approaching the massive spawn of humanity that we had to deal with the previous day.
We went in and did the Jungle cruise, Pirates of the Caribbean, the Haunted Mansion, and then we took on Splash Mountain. I have to admit, I got SOAKED. There were six of us in the boat, as my youngest son didn't want to go on the ride. So my dad stayed down with him, and they did some more tame rides while the rest of us went on the water ride. My son and niece sat up in front, then my daughter and mom in the middle, and my wife and I took the back seats.
Big. Mistake.
Putting the adults in the back three seats only begged for the boat to swap with water each and every time we turned a corner. Not to mention how much water slopped over the sides when we went down any kind of incline.
At the end of the ride, I waddled out to try to find some dry spot on my clothing, and decided it was best to find a place to camp out for a while, and drip-dry.
So, we had lunch, and then proceeded to cross over to California Adventure!
This park reminds me more of a carnival-type of place, and not really much of a theme park.
Sure, there are themed areas, but for the most part, it's an attempt to combine the fun of Disneyland and the thrill of a carnival ride. I liked the "Soaring over California" ride, the "Tower of Terror" Twilight Zone elevator drop, California Screamin' rollercoaster, and the Mali-Boomer jet ride. These rides more than made up for the line waits, and the pablem of kiddie rides dispersed all through the park.
However, my downfall again on this visit was to be water.
The favorite ride of our family group turned out to be one of my serious nemesis-type rides of the vacation. Namely, the Grizzly River Rapids Run.
Yes, another water ride.
The first time, we found that each "inner tube" raft was capable of fitting all 8 of us in one cart. So we piled in, and I noticed that my wife and my dad were sitting close to me. This became noteworthy in that I got drenched during the ride. This is when I also made the discovery about the drains in the rafts, and that these said drains not only drain water from the ride, but they allow water to shoot into the ride as well!
Yeah. I was soaked.
But it was so much fun that we went again.
Two more times, in fact.
I think I got more water from those three rides than all of the rainstorms I've ever been in combined. And that's saying something coming from a lifetime resident of the Pacific Northwest!
Anyway, at the end of the day I was able to drop dry sufficiently for us to leave, grab a shuttle bus to our hotel, and call it a grand adventure. We topped it off with a view of the Disney Park, and watched the fireworks presentation from our balcony.
We slept good that night, if only because of the sheer exhaustion from being in the parks from open until nearly close two nights in a row.
More about day 3 tomorrow!
Now, a different note:
Veronica (am I the only one who pictures the Archies comic of the spoiled little rich girl??) better known as ASM (Another Suburban Mom) awarded me my very first prize for my blog!
I don't know all of the details, but I'm going to read up on it more, and see about posting it later today or tomorrow!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I'm baaaaaack!
Yes, I survived.
The crowds were insane.
The lines were long.
The heat wasn't TOO bad, and it even rained one day while we were out gallavanting...
But all in all, it was a great time.
We flew out on Friday, the 13th, and arrived into John Wayne airport (or Orange County Air, or Santa Anna International.. Take your pick of what name to use!). Getting the rental was interesting..
There were 8 of us, so a conventional minivan or SUV wouldn't cut it. No, we opted for the 15 passenger econo-van. Yes, this monster wouldn't even fit in the airport parking garage, so me and my family got to stand out in the rain at the loading area while my dad hiked with a rental agent to get the van. I even was able to get in trouble there, since my dad didn't park close enough to the loading zone, and a police officer mistook him for a shuttle driver, and proceeded to chew us out for not obeying his traffic laws. I could have easily gotten ticketed that day, if my wife hadn't calmed me down enough to let me know that spending your first day on vacation isn't so fun when you're in jail. Thanks hon!
We got to the hotel, unpacked, and collapsed into separate piles of mush. I never really noticed before, but packing, travelling and unpacking really takes a toll on the mental and physical fortitude of a person. We anxiously watched the news for weather reports, and plotted our plan of attack for the upcoming days.
For the sake of keeping this blog manageable, I'm going to talk about our first day there.
Yup. Valentine's Day.
We went in when the park opened, and proceeded to swim with the other Homo Sapiens in a massive jumble of humanity. Lines were insanely long, crowds were rude, and as long as you weren't in anybody's way, you didn't run the risk of getting run over while walking through the park. Fast passes are a great idea, but the waiting in line to get one is just incredible. I mean, who ever thought up "fast passes" is a god, but how about a fast pass in order to get a fast pass? Waiting in line an hour to get a slip of paper that's good for a quick line for a great ride, but you have to wait an hour to use is kind of an oxymoron, in my humble opinion.
I mean, with the two hours I've wasted waiting in line to get the slip, and then to wait in order to get on the ride, I'm sure I'd have been able to get in line twice for the same stinking ride.........
Anyway, the day was interesting, my dad and I were able to sneak an order of flowers up to the rooms without my mom or my wife noticing, and the day went fairly smoothly.
Dinner was interesting, but at least food was procured for everyone, and we were then able to head home with little energy left for much else.
However, the hotel we stayed at had an excellent view of the Disney parks, and we were able to watch the firework shows from our balconies instead of rubbing elbows with everyone in the park.
Day two's events will be tomorrow, stay tuned!
The crowds were insane.
The lines were long.
The heat wasn't TOO bad, and it even rained one day while we were out gallavanting...
But all in all, it was a great time.
We flew out on Friday, the 13th, and arrived into John Wayne airport (or Orange County Air, or Santa Anna International.. Take your pick of what name to use!). Getting the rental was interesting..
There were 8 of us, so a conventional minivan or SUV wouldn't cut it. No, we opted for the 15 passenger econo-van. Yes, this monster wouldn't even fit in the airport parking garage, so me and my family got to stand out in the rain at the loading area while my dad hiked with a rental agent to get the van. I even was able to get in trouble there, since my dad didn't park close enough to the loading zone, and a police officer mistook him for a shuttle driver, and proceeded to chew us out for not obeying his traffic laws. I could have easily gotten ticketed that day, if my wife hadn't calmed me down enough to let me know that spending your first day on vacation isn't so fun when you're in jail. Thanks hon!
We got to the hotel, unpacked, and collapsed into separate piles of mush. I never really noticed before, but packing, travelling and unpacking really takes a toll on the mental and physical fortitude of a person. We anxiously watched the news for weather reports, and plotted our plan of attack for the upcoming days.
For the sake of keeping this blog manageable, I'm going to talk about our first day there.
Yup. Valentine's Day.
We went in when the park opened, and proceeded to swim with the other Homo Sapiens in a massive jumble of humanity. Lines were insanely long, crowds were rude, and as long as you weren't in anybody's way, you didn't run the risk of getting run over while walking through the park. Fast passes are a great idea, but the waiting in line to get one is just incredible. I mean, who ever thought up "fast passes" is a god, but how about a fast pass in order to get a fast pass? Waiting in line an hour to get a slip of paper that's good for a quick line for a great ride, but you have to wait an hour to use is kind of an oxymoron, in my humble opinion.
I mean, with the two hours I've wasted waiting in line to get the slip, and then to wait in order to get on the ride, I'm sure I'd have been able to get in line twice for the same stinking ride.........
Anyway, the day was interesting, my dad and I were able to sneak an order of flowers up to the rooms without my mom or my wife noticing, and the day went fairly smoothly.
Dinner was interesting, but at least food was procured for everyone, and we were then able to head home with little energy left for much else.
However, the hotel we stayed at had an excellent view of the Disney parks, and we were able to watch the firework shows from our balconies instead of rubbing elbows with everyone in the park.
Day two's events will be tomorrow, stay tuned!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Something I raelly don't understand..
Well, I said I wasn't going to write about my family.
I lied.
My wife is a very single-minded individual when it comes to things she wants. This can be a good or bad thing, but for me, I see it as a blessing and one of her best character traits.
This last year, she finally found her half-brothers, and made contact with them, and was able to meet them and their wives.
Myself, I didn't see much in it, because I'd grown up with my family all around me, and not had the supposed stigma of a divided family where my brother is only like 9 days older than myself..
Thus, we get to an issue that happened this week that has really bothered me.
Since reconnecting with her brothers, my wife has been trying to do everything possible to befriend and get to know these folks that she shares common blood with.
I applaud this, and I encouraged her.
However, the more she tried to get to know them, the more we were pushed away.
Now? I'm pissed.
My wife went out this last weekend with the girls. This led to some curious behavior, and high-school drama best left to children, and not adults.
First off, the new additions to the family are drinkers. I don't really have a problem with folks drinking, in fact I have a glass or two myself every now and then. However, it does decrease your mental capacity, and you might say or do things which on a "normal" day you wouldn't think of doing otherwise.
Well, on one such occasion, the two were drinking, and were quite inebriated. This led to a confession from the wife of one of the brothers to my wife about her and some indiscretions she'd taken while being married.
My wife kept it quiet. After all, she wanted to be there FOR her family, not tear it apart.
A few weeks later, at another get-together, the bride of the other brother while intoxicated also admitted that there had been indiscretions committed by the other wife while she was married. I was actually in the room at this time, and heard this confession.
Now, just this last week, the ladies went out again, and got their drink on. Enter in my wife's friend, who is quite the flirt, and also very willing to get her drink on as well. They went to the first bar (yes, I did say FIRST here), and proceeded to have a few, and talk. The two wives decided to go to another place, and my wife and her friend dropped by her brother's house to say hello before continuing on. During this, the wife called, and found out about the visit. Jealousy reigned supreme, and all hell broke loose.
Apparently, when you've cheated on your spouse, you're unable to think that the other one is willing and able to think about nothing but their love and affection for their loved one, and so the assumption is that because they did it, the other one will as well.
My wife and friend get to the next bar, and conversation starts, but there's a lying undertone of malice. One wife leaves the bar for a while, assumed to go out for a smoke, yet leaving her smokes and keys and purse on the table.
I don't know about you, but I find it awfully difficult to smoke when I don't have a cigarette, don't you?
Add to this that these two wives were also shamelessly flirting with men at other tables.
I wasn't there, but from some things I've observed, I highly doubt that my wife and her friend were lying about these actions.
Now we get to the problem I've got.
This family of my bride's is really starting to annoy me.
Now? She doesn't care what they do. They've chewed her out, called her a bitch, and proceeded to erase her from their lives.
Why?
Because they are running away from their problems, and deciding that if they cover it up enough, then they won't have to deal with their ugly and dirty laundry that they've scattered all over this small town.
Now, I'm normally laid back, and reserved. I don't like to get into a confrontation.
However, if I were to see either of these two families anytime soon, I'd be more than willing to give them a piece of my mind.
They've used our goodwill, and our hospitality, and then tossed us to the curb when it got to be something "normal". Now, they aren't willing to talk, and since we know that they're not the stellar people that they've professed to be, they're trying to run away and hide.
For me, I could care.
But I hurt for the loss done to my wife.
It's family she knew that she had, but hasn't really had time to connect with.
Knowing the character of these folks now, I can honestly say "good riddance", but there is a part of me that wishes things could have been different somehow.
Anyway, I'm off after today, and I'm going to be away on vacation.
I'll write more when I get back, and tell you all about our trip, and the fun things we did.. Maybe even some of the drama that I'm suspecting is going to rear it's ugly head, too!
Have a great week, and I'll see you all on the 24th!
I lied.
My wife is a very single-minded individual when it comes to things she wants. This can be a good or bad thing, but for me, I see it as a blessing and one of her best character traits.
This last year, she finally found her half-brothers, and made contact with them, and was able to meet them and their wives.
Myself, I didn't see much in it, because I'd grown up with my family all around me, and not had the supposed stigma of a divided family where my brother is only like 9 days older than myself..
Thus, we get to an issue that happened this week that has really bothered me.
Since reconnecting with her brothers, my wife has been trying to do everything possible to befriend and get to know these folks that she shares common blood with.
I applaud this, and I encouraged her.
However, the more she tried to get to know them, the more we were pushed away.
Now? I'm pissed.
My wife went out this last weekend with the girls. This led to some curious behavior, and high-school drama best left to children, and not adults.
First off, the new additions to the family are drinkers. I don't really have a problem with folks drinking, in fact I have a glass or two myself every now and then. However, it does decrease your mental capacity, and you might say or do things which on a "normal" day you wouldn't think of doing otherwise.
Well, on one such occasion, the two were drinking, and were quite inebriated. This led to a confession from the wife of one of the brothers to my wife about her and some indiscretions she'd taken while being married.
My wife kept it quiet. After all, she wanted to be there FOR her family, not tear it apart.
A few weeks later, at another get-together, the bride of the other brother while intoxicated also admitted that there had been indiscretions committed by the other wife while she was married. I was actually in the room at this time, and heard this confession.
Now, just this last week, the ladies went out again, and got their drink on. Enter in my wife's friend, who is quite the flirt, and also very willing to get her drink on as well. They went to the first bar (yes, I did say FIRST here), and proceeded to have a few, and talk. The two wives decided to go to another place, and my wife and her friend dropped by her brother's house to say hello before continuing on. During this, the wife called, and found out about the visit. Jealousy reigned supreme, and all hell broke loose.
Apparently, when you've cheated on your spouse, you're unable to think that the other one is willing and able to think about nothing but their love and affection for their loved one, and so the assumption is that because they did it, the other one will as well.
My wife and friend get to the next bar, and conversation starts, but there's a lying undertone of malice. One wife leaves the bar for a while, assumed to go out for a smoke, yet leaving her smokes and keys and purse on the table.
I don't know about you, but I find it awfully difficult to smoke when I don't have a cigarette, don't you?
Add to this that these two wives were also shamelessly flirting with men at other tables.
I wasn't there, but from some things I've observed, I highly doubt that my wife and her friend were lying about these actions.
Now we get to the problem I've got.
This family of my bride's is really starting to annoy me.
Now? She doesn't care what they do. They've chewed her out, called her a bitch, and proceeded to erase her from their lives.
Why?
Because they are running away from their problems, and deciding that if they cover it up enough, then they won't have to deal with their ugly and dirty laundry that they've scattered all over this small town.
Now, I'm normally laid back, and reserved. I don't like to get into a confrontation.
However, if I were to see either of these two families anytime soon, I'd be more than willing to give them a piece of my mind.
They've used our goodwill, and our hospitality, and then tossed us to the curb when it got to be something "normal". Now, they aren't willing to talk, and since we know that they're not the stellar people that they've professed to be, they're trying to run away and hide.
For me, I could care.
But I hurt for the loss done to my wife.
It's family she knew that she had, but hasn't really had time to connect with.
Knowing the character of these folks now, I can honestly say "good riddance", but there is a part of me that wishes things could have been different somehow.
Anyway, I'm off after today, and I'm going to be away on vacation.
I'll write more when I get back, and tell you all about our trip, and the fun things we did.. Maybe even some of the drama that I'm suspecting is going to rear it's ugly head, too!
Have a great week, and I'll see you all on the 24th!
Friday, February 6, 2009
Countdown!
It's less than a week now before I take off with the family for Disneyland.
I'm kind of excited.
One, my kids have never been, and it's going to be great to see their faces and excitement when we get there.
Two, I haven't been down there in ages (since I graduated High School nearly 20 years ago) and there's been plenty of changes done since then.
Lastly, there's family of mine that live down here that my wife and kids have never met. I really want to get a chance to see them and introduce them all.
I can remember when going down to California and Disneyland was a "ho-hum" type of trip. I mean, we went EVERY year to visit my dad's family (he's from Southern California), and while there, we'd raid Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, Magic Mountain, Universal Studios, and sometimes even go further south and attack Sea World and the San Diego zoo..
My favorite memories were of going to Escondido, and playing around in that family fun center (that's now closed) where the kids would all get like $30, and be let loose to run, play, jump, hide, and just be kids for an entire day. Parents could sit around and gossip and talk, and kids found ways to entertain themselves.
I really want to be able to take my kids to see some historic sites as well sometime.
I loved going on road trips every once in a while, and seeing things like the city UNDER Sacramento, or Alcatraz, Old San Francisco, teach the kids about the Gold Rush, visit ghost towns, that kind of thing...
I have plans also at some point to take the wife along with me to go up to Victoria BC, and just have some alone time.
See the Buchardt Gardens, maybe have high tea at the Empress Hotel, tandem bike through the town, and just see the sights.
There are so many places I've been to and seen that I want to be able to share with my family.. I just don't know how to fit them all in, and still be able to afford it!
Name off some of your most favorite places to visit, and recommendations of things that are a MUST see.
I'm kind of excited.
One, my kids have never been, and it's going to be great to see their faces and excitement when we get there.
Two, I haven't been down there in ages (since I graduated High School nearly 20 years ago) and there's been plenty of changes done since then.
Lastly, there's family of mine that live down here that my wife and kids have never met. I really want to get a chance to see them and introduce them all.
I can remember when going down to California and Disneyland was a "ho-hum" type of trip. I mean, we went EVERY year to visit my dad's family (he's from Southern California), and while there, we'd raid Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, Magic Mountain, Universal Studios, and sometimes even go further south and attack Sea World and the San Diego zoo..
My favorite memories were of going to Escondido, and playing around in that family fun center (that's now closed) where the kids would all get like $30, and be let loose to run, play, jump, hide, and just be kids for an entire day. Parents could sit around and gossip and talk, and kids found ways to entertain themselves.
I really want to be able to take my kids to see some historic sites as well sometime.
I loved going on road trips every once in a while, and seeing things like the city UNDER Sacramento, or Alcatraz, Old San Francisco, teach the kids about the Gold Rush, visit ghost towns, that kind of thing...
I have plans also at some point to take the wife along with me to go up to Victoria BC, and just have some alone time.
See the Buchardt Gardens, maybe have high tea at the Empress Hotel, tandem bike through the town, and just see the sights.
There are so many places I've been to and seen that I want to be able to share with my family.. I just don't know how to fit them all in, and still be able to afford it!
Name off some of your most favorite places to visit, and recommendations of things that are a MUST see.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Confessional
Well, I can tell when I post something that's a bit too brutally honest, because my wife will get on here and yell at me about it.
I don't feel the need to apologize on here, because after all, this is a kind of journal about who I am, and what I'm feeling. So if I offended, don't read.
That being said, I have been wondering since our "discussion" last night about some things...
Before I got some help in my lying problem, I never could have imagined that being completely honest could be considered a bad thing.
Now?
I'm not so sure, really.
I mean, look at the last post. I opened my heart, and blogged about how I felt. This, in turn, caused the woman I love to become very upset with me over how I expressed my feelings. In a sense, I was too honest, and it really pissed her off.
So now I'm trying to figure out (in my lying rehab-kind of way) where would the compromise be? When is it "ok" to lie? When is telling the "full" truth too much?
I'm still pretty new to the whole full-disclosure stuff. I mean, for me telling a lie is like offering a drink to an alcoholic. You can make the choice to tell that lie, or take that drink, but the chances of falling back on your old behaviors increase exponentially.
My wife doesn't believe that. Not one bit.
In her opinion, I'm just making a choice, and that I choose to lie, or tell the truth. There's no habit to break, there's nothing that could cause me to just up and run with it once the first one has been said.
Me?
I grew up telling lies to get out of trouble. I was pretty darn good at it, too. I'd lie just to keep from getting a wooden paddle, or power cord whipping, or my face slapped. I never knew what kind of punishment I'd get, so I'd make sure that the story I told had enough truth in it to be believeable, and then the rest would just be a type of garnish.
It became a habit. I'd lie to the folks outside of the house, because I didn't want them to know about my family, or how I was being treated. I wanted them to think I was a normal, well-adjusted kid. Not an abused soul who was desperately trying to find a way out and survive.
I'd lie to my parents, just to make living there bearable. Chores, minor jobs, homework, you name it. They asked, I did, and then I'd lie of something went wrong. I knew what they expected of me, so the lies were easier to make up for people you knew.
I'd lie at school. I didn't want the teachers or cousellors to know what was going on at home, because I feared the scrutiny. What would my parents do to me if they suddenly were investigated because of my behavior at school?
Pretty soon, the lies were more of my reality than the truth was.
And there's the rub.
Now? I've been very good about keeping myself honest. Yeah, I embellish a little, but my wife reminds me, and I reign myself in, and tone it down. I've been brutally honest, and things seem to be going well, until the honesty gets to be too much, and feelings get hurt.
You know, it's very true that the saying "Truth hurts" is more than just an emotional hurt. Feelings _do_ get hurt. But there are times when the truth feels more like a punch in the gut or kidneys than anything else.
I'm still learning, and I'm trying to come to terms with who I am.
However, don't think for a second that I'll apologize for telling my side of a story.
Yeah, you might not like what I have to say, but it's my opinion, and my feelings. I have the right to say these things, and I'll be more than willing to talk about them even if you're not reading. That's YOUR decision, and your choice.
I'll talk about some funny stories tomorrow, unless the wife and I get into a fight about this post tonight.. Then there'll be more about that tomorrow!
Stay tuned.
I don't feel the need to apologize on here, because after all, this is a kind of journal about who I am, and what I'm feeling. So if I offended, don't read.
That being said, I have been wondering since our "discussion" last night about some things...
Before I got some help in my lying problem, I never could have imagined that being completely honest could be considered a bad thing.
Now?
I'm not so sure, really.
I mean, look at the last post. I opened my heart, and blogged about how I felt. This, in turn, caused the woman I love to become very upset with me over how I expressed my feelings. In a sense, I was too honest, and it really pissed her off.
So now I'm trying to figure out (in my lying rehab-kind of way) where would the compromise be? When is it "ok" to lie? When is telling the "full" truth too much?
I'm still pretty new to the whole full-disclosure stuff. I mean, for me telling a lie is like offering a drink to an alcoholic. You can make the choice to tell that lie, or take that drink, but the chances of falling back on your old behaviors increase exponentially.
My wife doesn't believe that. Not one bit.
In her opinion, I'm just making a choice, and that I choose to lie, or tell the truth. There's no habit to break, there's nothing that could cause me to just up and run with it once the first one has been said.
Me?
I grew up telling lies to get out of trouble. I was pretty darn good at it, too. I'd lie just to keep from getting a wooden paddle, or power cord whipping, or my face slapped. I never knew what kind of punishment I'd get, so I'd make sure that the story I told had enough truth in it to be believeable, and then the rest would just be a type of garnish.
It became a habit. I'd lie to the folks outside of the house, because I didn't want them to know about my family, or how I was being treated. I wanted them to think I was a normal, well-adjusted kid. Not an abused soul who was desperately trying to find a way out and survive.
I'd lie to my parents, just to make living there bearable. Chores, minor jobs, homework, you name it. They asked, I did, and then I'd lie of something went wrong. I knew what they expected of me, so the lies were easier to make up for people you knew.
I'd lie at school. I didn't want the teachers or cousellors to know what was going on at home, because I feared the scrutiny. What would my parents do to me if they suddenly were investigated because of my behavior at school?
Pretty soon, the lies were more of my reality than the truth was.
And there's the rub.
Now? I've been very good about keeping myself honest. Yeah, I embellish a little, but my wife reminds me, and I reign myself in, and tone it down. I've been brutally honest, and things seem to be going well, until the honesty gets to be too much, and feelings get hurt.
You know, it's very true that the saying "Truth hurts" is more than just an emotional hurt. Feelings _do_ get hurt. But there are times when the truth feels more like a punch in the gut or kidneys than anything else.
I'm still learning, and I'm trying to come to terms with who I am.
However, don't think for a second that I'll apologize for telling my side of a story.
Yeah, you might not like what I have to say, but it's my opinion, and my feelings. I have the right to say these things, and I'll be more than willing to talk about them even if you're not reading. That's YOUR decision, and your choice.
I'll talk about some funny stories tomorrow, unless the wife and I get into a fight about this post tonight.. Then there'll be more about that tomorrow!
Stay tuned.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
I just don't get it.. I really don't.
Ok. Time for this guy to complain again about the fairer (most of the time) sex.
There are too many things about ladies that I appreciate. Sights, sounds, smells, talks, looks, feelings, etc.
Yet there are a couple of things that REALLY tend to set me off.
One of these really bothered me this weekend, and true to form, I'm gonna blog about it.
I can't stand the wishy-washy double standards.
I'll give you an example:
I've got some guy friends. We LOVE to hang out and kill time. One friend of mine especially likes to sit around and play video games with me. If I didn't know better, I'd say that he's wired just about like I am.
Now, my wife has been teasing me this last weekend about how I haven't been calling my friends to just go and "hang out". Each time I've called, it's been to ask for help with something around the house here.
I can recall her picking on me just a few months ago about how I need to call these guys to come help me with things around the house, instead of calling them to go run off and play.
Now. Is it one, or the other?
Why can't I do both?
I mean, there are times where I need the extra hands with work around the house. So I give a buddy a call, and we get it done.
There are also those times when I'd really like to get away from it all, and have a bit of "playtime". Then I'd give a buddy a call, and we'd say "screw it" to responsibility, and just play around for a short while.
However, my bent lately has been for fixing things up around the house.
Is this a bad thing? I don't think so.
My wife and I have been looking into refinancing our mortgage, because we could potentially save an extra 7-8 HUNDRED dollars a month in payments.
However, in order to re-fi, you need to have an assessor come and check out the house.
I don't know about you all, but there are TONS of half-done jobs around my place.
The reason behind this?
Well, one, I'm a bit ADD when it comes to home repair and remodel stuff, and I can't stay on task for very long before wanting to move to a different project.
Two, we'll get into a job, and run out of parts or pieces, and forget to buy more for a while. Then, it starts to look "normal", and we tend to overlook that half-done appearance.
So, I've been a bit of an ass. I nag about needing this thing, or that, just to focus on getting ONE JOB at a time done.
I've got the checklist, and I've been marking down when I'm able to complete a job.
Patch holes in the walls? Check.
Install new door for the new bedroom addition? Check.
Cut trim for new door? Check.
Cut trim for French door we installed last year? Check.
Replace sliding glass door? Check.
Cut and lay floor molding? Um, in process. Big job, ugly angles, and off-center house make this job a bit more difficult than it should be.
Paint? NO.
My wife told me she'd take care of the painting. I informed her that I wasn't going to finish the floor trim until the painting was done, so that there would be one less hassle to deal with. She agreed, and now I get to wait for her to get HER butt in gear.
Replace all windows on the house? Check. Still trying to find a couple of pesky leaks, though. I might have taken care of this yesterday, but we'll definitely find out the next time it rains!
Put up blinds in all bedroom windows? Check. I even re-strung the blinds that were too long, because I wasn't willing to wait for my wife to do these like she'd claim.
So, my last major project is the floor moldings. However, I'm not able to do one room because of all the junk in the room itself. Each time I make mention of this, something gets ADDED to the clutter, instead of getting CLEARED OUT.
Maybe I should try reverse psychology, and compliment her on the empty room?
I dunno.
I do know that her deadline of getting the entire house trimmed by Wednesday is a pipe dream. She's wanting to impress the visitors we're going to have over when she hosts her Bunco party.
These same folks were here a couple months ago when there wasn't much on the walls but paint, and she didn't bat an eye. Now? The only thing missing is floor trim, and I get demands about needing it all done right away!
I don't get it.
Our house is quite old, and it's also three stories tall. The main problem with this is the major weight-bearing wall that runs the length of our house. It rises the full three stories, and is a main wall for our bedroom, my daughter's bedroom, and a computer room/office area we've got. But I've noticed in all the remodel and repair work that I've done on the house that it's this wall that is causing our house to settle weirdly.
It's a BIG wall. Because of it's size, it's settled, but the location of the wall is near the center of the house, and it has caused the house to settle inward towards the wall.
I can tell, because of the lines around the house when measuring.
This wall is off about a quarter of an inch. That one isn't quite square. The door jamb isn't quite centered...
These things don't seem very bad, until you're the one trying to fix the small unslightly blemishes to make the house look better.
The wall isn't square? How is that going to be a problem?
Well, the corner you decided to put the bathroom vanity in isn't square, so the sink insert you've got now sits weirdly, and won't stay in place. How do I fix that? Caulk, caulk, and more caulk! If I can hide the gaps, maybe someone won't notice!
Windows are levelled when installed, but now you can see from the outside that they don't match the level of the trimwork around the house.
Um, I can't really _do_ anything about this one. The trimwork is the original trim, and it follows the exterior of the house. As I've said, the house is settling, and for the windows to be installed correctly, they are now out of square with the rest of the house. There's really nothing I can do right now to fix this.
I'm NOT going to pay the extra cash to have someone come out, jack up my foundation, and put cracks into the walls I've just spent the last couple of months fixing.. At least not until I'm ready to sell this place and move somewhere else!
Well, I think I'm done for now.
Like I'd said before, we have our disagreements, and when we do, I tend to air my feelings here. She knows this, and has come to grudgingly accept it.
This is one of those times. I kind of know what I'd like to have done, but I just can't get everyone else into the same boat.
Wanna buy a house? I could make you a great deal....
There are too many things about ladies that I appreciate. Sights, sounds, smells, talks, looks, feelings, etc.
Yet there are a couple of things that REALLY tend to set me off.
One of these really bothered me this weekend, and true to form, I'm gonna blog about it.
I can't stand the wishy-washy double standards.
I'll give you an example:
I've got some guy friends. We LOVE to hang out and kill time. One friend of mine especially likes to sit around and play video games with me. If I didn't know better, I'd say that he's wired just about like I am.
Now, my wife has been teasing me this last weekend about how I haven't been calling my friends to just go and "hang out". Each time I've called, it's been to ask for help with something around the house here.
I can recall her picking on me just a few months ago about how I need to call these guys to come help me with things around the house, instead of calling them to go run off and play.
Now. Is it one, or the other?
Why can't I do both?
I mean, there are times where I need the extra hands with work around the house. So I give a buddy a call, and we get it done.
There are also those times when I'd really like to get away from it all, and have a bit of "playtime". Then I'd give a buddy a call, and we'd say "screw it" to responsibility, and just play around for a short while.
However, my bent lately has been for fixing things up around the house.
Is this a bad thing? I don't think so.
My wife and I have been looking into refinancing our mortgage, because we could potentially save an extra 7-8 HUNDRED dollars a month in payments.
However, in order to re-fi, you need to have an assessor come and check out the house.
I don't know about you all, but there are TONS of half-done jobs around my place.
The reason behind this?
Well, one, I'm a bit ADD when it comes to home repair and remodel stuff, and I can't stay on task for very long before wanting to move to a different project.
Two, we'll get into a job, and run out of parts or pieces, and forget to buy more for a while. Then, it starts to look "normal", and we tend to overlook that half-done appearance.
So, I've been a bit of an ass. I nag about needing this thing, or that, just to focus on getting ONE JOB at a time done.
I've got the checklist, and I've been marking down when I'm able to complete a job.
Patch holes in the walls? Check.
Install new door for the new bedroom addition? Check.
Cut trim for new door? Check.
Cut trim for French door we installed last year? Check.
Replace sliding glass door? Check.
Cut and lay floor molding? Um, in process. Big job, ugly angles, and off-center house make this job a bit more difficult than it should be.
Paint? NO.
My wife told me she'd take care of the painting. I informed her that I wasn't going to finish the floor trim until the painting was done, so that there would be one less hassle to deal with. She agreed, and now I get to wait for her to get HER butt in gear.
Replace all windows on the house? Check. Still trying to find a couple of pesky leaks, though. I might have taken care of this yesterday, but we'll definitely find out the next time it rains!
Put up blinds in all bedroom windows? Check. I even re-strung the blinds that were too long, because I wasn't willing to wait for my wife to do these like she'd claim.
So, my last major project is the floor moldings. However, I'm not able to do one room because of all the junk in the room itself. Each time I make mention of this, something gets ADDED to the clutter, instead of getting CLEARED OUT.
Maybe I should try reverse psychology, and compliment her on the empty room?
I dunno.
I do know that her deadline of getting the entire house trimmed by Wednesday is a pipe dream. She's wanting to impress the visitors we're going to have over when she hosts her Bunco party.
These same folks were here a couple months ago when there wasn't much on the walls but paint, and she didn't bat an eye. Now? The only thing missing is floor trim, and I get demands about needing it all done right away!
I don't get it.
Our house is quite old, and it's also three stories tall. The main problem with this is the major weight-bearing wall that runs the length of our house. It rises the full three stories, and is a main wall for our bedroom, my daughter's bedroom, and a computer room/office area we've got. But I've noticed in all the remodel and repair work that I've done on the house that it's this wall that is causing our house to settle weirdly.
It's a BIG wall. Because of it's size, it's settled, but the location of the wall is near the center of the house, and it has caused the house to settle inward towards the wall.
I can tell, because of the lines around the house when measuring.
This wall is off about a quarter of an inch. That one isn't quite square. The door jamb isn't quite centered...
These things don't seem very bad, until you're the one trying to fix the small unslightly blemishes to make the house look better.
The wall isn't square? How is that going to be a problem?
Well, the corner you decided to put the bathroom vanity in isn't square, so the sink insert you've got now sits weirdly, and won't stay in place. How do I fix that? Caulk, caulk, and more caulk! If I can hide the gaps, maybe someone won't notice!
Windows are levelled when installed, but now you can see from the outside that they don't match the level of the trimwork around the house.
Um, I can't really _do_ anything about this one. The trimwork is the original trim, and it follows the exterior of the house. As I've said, the house is settling, and for the windows to be installed correctly, they are now out of square with the rest of the house. There's really nothing I can do right now to fix this.
I'm NOT going to pay the extra cash to have someone come out, jack up my foundation, and put cracks into the walls I've just spent the last couple of months fixing.. At least not until I'm ready to sell this place and move somewhere else!
Well, I think I'm done for now.
Like I'd said before, we have our disagreements, and when we do, I tend to air my feelings here. She knows this, and has come to grudgingly accept it.
This is one of those times. I kind of know what I'd like to have done, but I just can't get everyone else into the same boat.
Wanna buy a house? I could make you a great deal....
Friday, January 30, 2009
More ranting and raving!!
Yesterday, while browsing through some of my more favorite blogs to read, I came upon this post by Cinnikitty.
It got me so worked up, that I'm still kind of irate now just THINKING about it.
Things of this nature really hit close to home for me.
I mean, I'm a divorced father of 3, and it's like pulling teeth to get any kind of consistent support from their mother.
Yet, I have to wonder what makes the judges tick when they decide what amounts are "reasonable" for the paying parties...
Let me give you an example:
When my wife and I divorced, she was given custody of the kids because I was working 3 jobs, had no stable home, and was basically living hand to mouth from day to day.
Yet, even with my dire means of survival, the judge was 'gracious' enough to award my wife a monthly support amount of $750 to be paid in full each month.
Now, at that time, I was bringing home approximately $1,200 a month. Take out my rent, and it dropped to $300.
If I didn't pay the rent, I could buy some food, pay a couple of bills, pay the CHILD SUPPORT, and maybe have a couple of dollars left over for gas.
BUT! If I paid my rent to keep a roof over my head, I'd drop too far behind on payments to be able to make up the difference.
Did this matter to the court?
NO.
He determined that I could be making a base minimum wage of $16-$18 per hour, and that because I was working _3_ jobs that weren't clearing more than $1500 a month, that was my problem. I needed to take the initiative to get a better paying job, and drop the 3 that I had in order to cover my responsibilities.
Nothing like getting kicked in the nuts, and then having that person tell you that it only hurts for a bit, and to suck it up and keep going, is there?
The sad fact is that because of the hour requirements of the jobs I was working, I wasn't HOME enough to take care of my kids. I had, technically, ONE day off during the week, but that "day off" was actually the one day where I only worked ONE job for a half-day. That day was Sunday. The rest of the time I was up and working from 4am until 10pm. Monday through Saturday. I'd get just enough time to rush from one job to the next in order to keep the two higher-paying jobs afloat, and then I'd toss in extra time when I could on the weekends to the third job to get gas money. It was a vicious cycle.
Now, with all of that work, I had to get some sleep in. So I'd sleep from about 11pm until 3am, then get up and repeat the day. Sunday was the treat, in that I didn't have to start work until 10am, and was done by 3pm. That meant that I could go over and see my kids, play with them for a little bit, and then head home to get some sleep before starting the nasty work week all over again.
Now, somehow in that tangled mess of a schedule, I was supposed to blow off an employer, go fill out applications to other jobs that were better suited for family support, and then hope to God that I didn't get fired from the job I'd blown off so that I could still have money coming in while hoping that the jobs I'd applied for called me for an interview so that I could potentially blow off said job again for the chance at another one...
Do you see the irony in this?
You have a job, yet you have to drop that one because a person told you to, in order to apply for a potential job (that many others will be applying for as well) in order to get an interview.
I was FURIOUS.
Yes, he's a judge, and someone who is (technically) an authority figure. But who the hell does he think he is to dictate to me what I should and should NOT be doing in my family life? Don't make a personal vendetta against working class people, tell them that they can and need to do better, and then force them into unlivable circumstances just to force a change.
Well, after the ruling, I tried to do exactly like the judge ordered.
Within 2 weeks, I had my part-time job left, as the other two fired me for not showing up for work.
Suddenly my $1,200 a month income dropped to $350.
Now I couldn't even pay rent, let alone keep food in my stomach, or pay bills.
I fell into a severe depression. I didn't care about how I was doing. I didn't care about my family. I was a failure.
The feelings of inadequacy were terrible. Failure seemed to be the one thing that I was actually good at. I mean, I had a FAILED marriage, I used to have jobs, but I FAILED two of them. I used to be able to support myself, but now I was FAILING at that as well.
Jormengrund=FAIL. That was my life equation.
I finally got evicted from my small home. With no place to go, I turned to my parents. I was desperate for some place to live while I looked for work, and felt that my family would offer some kind of help.
My mom refused. I wasn't to come near their house, and until I could get my life straight, I wasn't to contact them AT ALL.
Great.. More failure. This time with the people who are supposed to love and support you NO MATTER WHAT.
Then, a small glimmer of light.
My grandpa asked me to come over and help him work on the small shop he'd been building for his woodworking stuff. I came over and lent a hand. During the work, he offered me a place to live, in exchange for help around the house. He and my grandma were getting old enough that an added hand around the house for chores would be a great help. I needed a place to stay, and they were willing to give me one as long as I was willing to work for it.
I grasped at this chance with both hands like a man hanging on the edge of a cliff would to a rescue rope. I still had some meager income, and I needed some of it to pay for the gas I was using to get to job interviews. The rest I sent off for child support. Yet I continued to fall behind because my entire earned income still wasn't enough to cover my payments.
My grandpa hired an attorney to see about getting the payments reduced, but the judgement held. I had the "potential" to earn "X" amount, and thus I needed to live up to that potential in order to meet the judgement. No change was given.
So, I worked around my grandparent's house, fixing things, cutting the lawn, weeding, painting, mopping floors, carrying laundry, driving them to and from town.. Whatever they needed done, I did it. I also applied everywhere I could. I didn't care about what state, I didn't care about what field it was in. I didn't care about anything but getting that job that the judge insisted was my saving grace.
A year went by. Two. I never saw my tax returns. The money that I'd get would immediately be sent to help pay down my outstanding balance of child support. I fell deeper into debt with that payment. I mean really... Even paying the entire amount of my monthly income was still dropping me $400 into the hole EACH MONTH. Depression kicked in again.
Then, my part-time job closed.
No work, no money, no potential employers.
I'd hit rock bottom. There was no place left to go but up.
A friend of mine offered to take me out one night for a couple of drinks in order to try to cheer me up. We went to a small bar, and had a pretty good time. While there, an old neighbor of mine spotted me, and we started talking.
That man gave me the first small break since I'd hit bottom. He offered me a job working for him. My title? Karaoke DJ.
Yeah. Glamor galore. But it was a start in getting myself back on track. He promised to help out as much as he could, as long as I was willing to put the effort into helping him as well. I agreed.
Now, I was starting to make some headway. I had a job that I worked 6 nights a week at, sometimes I even worked mornings in his new storefront. I still lived with my grandparents, but I was actually starting to make ends meet.
Then, I met HER. My wife.
I joke about her being one of the "stalkers" that used to chase me around while I was running the karaoke stuff, but there was something seriously different about her that caught my eye. She saw something in me that made me think that I could be more than even that judge thought. For the first time in a very long time, I started to feel.... HOPE.
We started dating. Thanks to her influence, I started seeing my kids more. I'd been ashamed to bring them over to my grandparent's house where I lived because I didn't want the kids to see me living so destitute. However, she told me that my kids just needed a dad, and that they wouldn't care about where I lived, as long as they were able to be there with me. As usual, she was right.
I was finally able to get some temp work as a laborer during this time as well, and started making more. Thanks to her help, I was able to pay down some of my debts, and slowly crawl back into the light. She offered me the chance to move in with her, and get out of my grandparent's house. I agreed, but I also promised my grandparents that I would still come around to take care of things for them.
Things were going well. Until we had our first big fight.
Suddenly, I was kicked to the curb. No place to stay, and no ray of hope or sunshine to light my path.
That is, until my future Mother-in-law stood up for me.
In this woman, I saw what it was like to have a mom. To have someone care for you because of WHO you are, not what you can do for their reputation.
I felt loved again, and the hope bloomed.
We reconciled, and apologies were made. I had regular visitation with my kids now, and things were going well...
Until we found the bruises on my youngest son.
Their step-dad had been taking to beating each of the kids with a paddle when he felt they were doing something wrong.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not against spanking when needed.
But to use a wooden paddle on a 2 year old boy?
I wanted to literally kill that man when I found out about this.
My wife called my dad and brother in order to keep me in the house. We then called to have CPS investigate.
Somehow, the slippery bastard was able to get out from under the charge of abuse. I don't know to this day how he managed it, but each and every time I see him give me some smug smile, I have to fight in order to keep myself from knocking his teeth in.
Because we couldn't get the charge of abuse to work, I went a different route to save my kids. I filed for custody of them.
At this time, I had a solid job, a stable home, and pretty good means to support myself.
Thus, we went to court in order to settle this.
After SIX months of deliberation, I was granted custody of my children. This, in and of itself, is quite unheard of in this state, since the common term for this state is a "mom centralized state" which means that unless I was able to show neglect or a lack of vital care, the mother would retain custody.
Apparently the judge in this case was able to see the same things that we were seeing.
Then, the determination for support sent into effect.
Can you guess how much my wife was then asked to pay ME for these kids?
It wasn't NEARLY the amount I had to shuck out, and she'd been making TWICE my pay when that decision had been made.
No. She was only required to pay $550 every TWO months.
Yeah.
I'd had to pay $1500 every two months, and she only needed to pay $550.
So apparently not ONLY does the person who make less have to pay more, but the father is expected to pay at least double what a mother can, even if she's unfit!
OK.
I think I've got a bit more control..
Anyway, since that time, my kids have become more stable, less moody, better students, and overall are more well-adjusted than they ever were while living with their mother.
I seriously have to give credit for much of this to my wife. She and I have worked tirelessly to get the things my kids need in order to thrive.
Yet, the post CK had written was about mothers sitting around expecting to get paid for doing NOTHING.
That's exactly what my ex and her hubby do.
He's a worthless piece of crap with SIX kids who doesn't hold down a job, and expects to get "disability" (any day now) and she works for a doctor's office, and tries to bribe them into "conveniently" forget about making the support payments from time to time.
There has NEVER been a consistent time when I've gotten cash from her. Either it's late, or they forgot, or the check gets lost, the account gets screwey, etc, etc, etc...
All I ask is for some consistency so that I can better take care of my kids.
In order to do this, I've got a job now where I don't have to depend AT ALL on the support, and if/when we DO get the money, it's an unexpected windfall, and we put it away, or use it to buy things that could really help the kids. Rarely, if ever, have the wife or I used any of that cash for ourselves. We use the child support just for that. The children.
Anyway, I think I'm done ranting, and this post has gotten WAY too long.
Only 13 more days until we run off to Disneyland!
Have a great weekend, and I'll talk with you all on Tuesday.
It got me so worked up, that I'm still kind of irate now just THINKING about it.
Things of this nature really hit close to home for me.
I mean, I'm a divorced father of 3, and it's like pulling teeth to get any kind of consistent support from their mother.
Yet, I have to wonder what makes the judges tick when they decide what amounts are "reasonable" for the paying parties...
Let me give you an example:
When my wife and I divorced, she was given custody of the kids because I was working 3 jobs, had no stable home, and was basically living hand to mouth from day to day.
Yet, even with my dire means of survival, the judge was 'gracious' enough to award my wife a monthly support amount of $750 to be paid in full each month.
Now, at that time, I was bringing home approximately $1,200 a month. Take out my rent, and it dropped to $300.
If I didn't pay the rent, I could buy some food, pay a couple of bills, pay the CHILD SUPPORT, and maybe have a couple of dollars left over for gas.
BUT! If I paid my rent to keep a roof over my head, I'd drop too far behind on payments to be able to make up the difference.
Did this matter to the court?
NO.
He determined that I could be making a base minimum wage of $16-$18 per hour, and that because I was working _3_ jobs that weren't clearing more than $1500 a month, that was my problem. I needed to take the initiative to get a better paying job, and drop the 3 that I had in order to cover my responsibilities.
Nothing like getting kicked in the nuts, and then having that person tell you that it only hurts for a bit, and to suck it up and keep going, is there?
The sad fact is that because of the hour requirements of the jobs I was working, I wasn't HOME enough to take care of my kids. I had, technically, ONE day off during the week, but that "day off" was actually the one day where I only worked ONE job for a half-day. That day was Sunday. The rest of the time I was up and working from 4am until 10pm. Monday through Saturday. I'd get just enough time to rush from one job to the next in order to keep the two higher-paying jobs afloat, and then I'd toss in extra time when I could on the weekends to the third job to get gas money. It was a vicious cycle.
Now, with all of that work, I had to get some sleep in. So I'd sleep from about 11pm until 3am, then get up and repeat the day. Sunday was the treat, in that I didn't have to start work until 10am, and was done by 3pm. That meant that I could go over and see my kids, play with them for a little bit, and then head home to get some sleep before starting the nasty work week all over again.
Now, somehow in that tangled mess of a schedule, I was supposed to blow off an employer, go fill out applications to other jobs that were better suited for family support, and then hope to God that I didn't get fired from the job I'd blown off so that I could still have money coming in while hoping that the jobs I'd applied for called me for an interview so that I could potentially blow off said job again for the chance at another one...
Do you see the irony in this?
You have a job, yet you have to drop that one because a person told you to, in order to apply for a potential job (that many others will be applying for as well) in order to get an interview.
I was FURIOUS.
Yes, he's a judge, and someone who is (technically) an authority figure. But who the hell does he think he is to dictate to me what I should and should NOT be doing in my family life? Don't make a personal vendetta against working class people, tell them that they can and need to do better, and then force them into unlivable circumstances just to force a change.
Well, after the ruling, I tried to do exactly like the judge ordered.
Within 2 weeks, I had my part-time job left, as the other two fired me for not showing up for work.
Suddenly my $1,200 a month income dropped to $350.
Now I couldn't even pay rent, let alone keep food in my stomach, or pay bills.
I fell into a severe depression. I didn't care about how I was doing. I didn't care about my family. I was a failure.
The feelings of inadequacy were terrible. Failure seemed to be the one thing that I was actually good at. I mean, I had a FAILED marriage, I used to have jobs, but I FAILED two of them. I used to be able to support myself, but now I was FAILING at that as well.
Jormengrund=FAIL. That was my life equation.
I finally got evicted from my small home. With no place to go, I turned to my parents. I was desperate for some place to live while I looked for work, and felt that my family would offer some kind of help.
My mom refused. I wasn't to come near their house, and until I could get my life straight, I wasn't to contact them AT ALL.
Great.. More failure. This time with the people who are supposed to love and support you NO MATTER WHAT.
Then, a small glimmer of light.
My grandpa asked me to come over and help him work on the small shop he'd been building for his woodworking stuff. I came over and lent a hand. During the work, he offered me a place to live, in exchange for help around the house. He and my grandma were getting old enough that an added hand around the house for chores would be a great help. I needed a place to stay, and they were willing to give me one as long as I was willing to work for it.
I grasped at this chance with both hands like a man hanging on the edge of a cliff would to a rescue rope. I still had some meager income, and I needed some of it to pay for the gas I was using to get to job interviews. The rest I sent off for child support. Yet I continued to fall behind because my entire earned income still wasn't enough to cover my payments.
My grandpa hired an attorney to see about getting the payments reduced, but the judgement held. I had the "potential" to earn "X" amount, and thus I needed to live up to that potential in order to meet the judgement. No change was given.
So, I worked around my grandparent's house, fixing things, cutting the lawn, weeding, painting, mopping floors, carrying laundry, driving them to and from town.. Whatever they needed done, I did it. I also applied everywhere I could. I didn't care about what state, I didn't care about what field it was in. I didn't care about anything but getting that job that the judge insisted was my saving grace.
A year went by. Two. I never saw my tax returns. The money that I'd get would immediately be sent to help pay down my outstanding balance of child support. I fell deeper into debt with that payment. I mean really... Even paying the entire amount of my monthly income was still dropping me $400 into the hole EACH MONTH. Depression kicked in again.
Then, my part-time job closed.
No work, no money, no potential employers.
I'd hit rock bottom. There was no place left to go but up.
A friend of mine offered to take me out one night for a couple of drinks in order to try to cheer me up. We went to a small bar, and had a pretty good time. While there, an old neighbor of mine spotted me, and we started talking.
That man gave me the first small break since I'd hit bottom. He offered me a job working for him. My title? Karaoke DJ.
Yeah. Glamor galore. But it was a start in getting myself back on track. He promised to help out as much as he could, as long as I was willing to put the effort into helping him as well. I agreed.
Now, I was starting to make some headway. I had a job that I worked 6 nights a week at, sometimes I even worked mornings in his new storefront. I still lived with my grandparents, but I was actually starting to make ends meet.
Then, I met HER. My wife.
I joke about her being one of the "stalkers" that used to chase me around while I was running the karaoke stuff, but there was something seriously different about her that caught my eye. She saw something in me that made me think that I could be more than even that judge thought. For the first time in a very long time, I started to feel.... HOPE.
We started dating. Thanks to her influence, I started seeing my kids more. I'd been ashamed to bring them over to my grandparent's house where I lived because I didn't want the kids to see me living so destitute. However, she told me that my kids just needed a dad, and that they wouldn't care about where I lived, as long as they were able to be there with me. As usual, she was right.
I was finally able to get some temp work as a laborer during this time as well, and started making more. Thanks to her help, I was able to pay down some of my debts, and slowly crawl back into the light. She offered me the chance to move in with her, and get out of my grandparent's house. I agreed, but I also promised my grandparents that I would still come around to take care of things for them.
Things were going well. Until we had our first big fight.
Suddenly, I was kicked to the curb. No place to stay, and no ray of hope or sunshine to light my path.
That is, until my future Mother-in-law stood up for me.
In this woman, I saw what it was like to have a mom. To have someone care for you because of WHO you are, not what you can do for their reputation.
I felt loved again, and the hope bloomed.
We reconciled, and apologies were made. I had regular visitation with my kids now, and things were going well...
Until we found the bruises on my youngest son.
Their step-dad had been taking to beating each of the kids with a paddle when he felt they were doing something wrong.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not against spanking when needed.
But to use a wooden paddle on a 2 year old boy?
I wanted to literally kill that man when I found out about this.
My wife called my dad and brother in order to keep me in the house. We then called to have CPS investigate.
Somehow, the slippery bastard was able to get out from under the charge of abuse. I don't know to this day how he managed it, but each and every time I see him give me some smug smile, I have to fight in order to keep myself from knocking his teeth in.
Because we couldn't get the charge of abuse to work, I went a different route to save my kids. I filed for custody of them.
At this time, I had a solid job, a stable home, and pretty good means to support myself.
Thus, we went to court in order to settle this.
After SIX months of deliberation, I was granted custody of my children. This, in and of itself, is quite unheard of in this state, since the common term for this state is a "mom centralized state" which means that unless I was able to show neglect or a lack of vital care, the mother would retain custody.
Apparently the judge in this case was able to see the same things that we were seeing.
Then, the determination for support sent into effect.
Can you guess how much my wife was then asked to pay ME for these kids?
It wasn't NEARLY the amount I had to shuck out, and she'd been making TWICE my pay when that decision had been made.
No. She was only required to pay $550 every TWO months.
Yeah.
I'd had to pay $1500 every two months, and she only needed to pay $550.
So apparently not ONLY does the person who make less have to pay more, but the father is expected to pay at least double what a mother can, even if she's unfit!
OK.
I think I've got a bit more control..
Anyway, since that time, my kids have become more stable, less moody, better students, and overall are more well-adjusted than they ever were while living with their mother.
I seriously have to give credit for much of this to my wife. She and I have worked tirelessly to get the things my kids need in order to thrive.
Yet, the post CK had written was about mothers sitting around expecting to get paid for doing NOTHING.
That's exactly what my ex and her hubby do.
He's a worthless piece of crap with SIX kids who doesn't hold down a job, and expects to get "disability" (any day now) and she works for a doctor's office, and tries to bribe them into "conveniently" forget about making the support payments from time to time.
There has NEVER been a consistent time when I've gotten cash from her. Either it's late, or they forgot, or the check gets lost, the account gets screwey, etc, etc, etc...
All I ask is for some consistency so that I can better take care of my kids.
In order to do this, I've got a job now where I don't have to depend AT ALL on the support, and if/when we DO get the money, it's an unexpected windfall, and we put it away, or use it to buy things that could really help the kids. Rarely, if ever, have the wife or I used any of that cash for ourselves. We use the child support just for that. The children.
Anyway, I think I'm done ranting, and this post has gotten WAY too long.
Only 13 more days until we run off to Disneyland!
Have a great weekend, and I'll talk with you all on Tuesday.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Comments, queries, and posers..
I was going to write something humorous, but after this weekend, I've decided to go a different route.
My sister-in-law is a great lady. She cares, and does everything she can to help her daughters.
This last year I saw this woman's heart get torn completely in two, and now the pain has come full circle, and she's dealing with the problems and issues that her two daughters, my nieces, are going through.
You see, her husband cheated on her last year, and she's not been the same since.
I've never really liked the man. He was quite judgemental, and really never game me a chance to get to know him, or even attempt to get to know the person I am. Because of this, I was never "good enough" for him or his family.
Now? I could care less about his opinion, as from my point of view he's no better than anyone else. He's a lying, cheating, selfish, good-for-nothing man who only cares about when he's going to get laid next, and if he's got enough cash in his account to keep food in his stomach.
However, this has completely ripped apart my SIL. These two married basically right out of High School. She'd never been with anyone else, and had only known him and the life she'd lead with him in it. Two daughters later, and she was happy knowing that her family was provided for, and taken care of.
All that changed when the truth came out.
She left.
I don't blame her there. How can you stand to be in the same room with someone who's been living a lie? How can you look into their face, and think that they're going to be honest with you EVER again? How can you live in a house where someone else has come in a defiled not only your home, but your sense of security?
Her way of dealing was to get drunk. Quite often.
Becoming so numb that the pain would lessen, and she could unbend enough to find some other man besides her ex to fill the void she had inside of her. (not sexually, you perverts!)
This led her on a merry dance for a while. One guy to the next. Each one she's spout all of these praises about their good traits. But within weeks, the bad stuff would overcome it all, and her suspicions would take over, and the fantasy would crumble.
Imagine her girls, trying to make sense of it all. Hoping that mom would be able to find some place to set down roots. Hoping against hope that the home dance would be over soon. Trying to cope with their own sense of loss and anguish over the split and hurt they could see in their mother and father.
All of these feelings became internalized in the girls. One now has serious anger issues, and I honestly think that she needs counselling in order to get the problem under control. The other has commitment issues, and doesn't trust her partner to be honest with her, regardless of the relationship history. All of this because the ONE MAN they could trust in their lives destroyed it all for a woman.
Yet he still has the gall to claim that his actions didn't cause this, it was brewing from before.
Right now, my SIL has a guy who seems like a nice man. He's sincere, and he's honest. He's got a couple of great kids, and he treats her like the fragile personality that she is.
However, I've got to be honest here.
I'm waiting for the point in time where some fault of his is going to push her away.
I've seen her happy. I've seen her miserable. And I honestly can't see her settle right now. She's got too much going on that she's trying to ignore. There's not going to be any kind of peace for her until she's able to come to terms with this, and it honestly hurts me to have to admit it.
She's met some great guys. Yeah, they've had issues.
Honestly, show me some guy that DOESN'T have issues, and I'll get the campaign set up for him to be the next US President!
But seriously, guys as a whole are screwed up. We mess up TONS. It's genetic, I think.
So guys are flawed, and girls use this opportunity to "fix" them, right?
How does someone who is recovering from a nasty situation like this ever find the strength to try again?
I don't know.
All I know is that I really do hurt for her, and I hope she's able to find peace.
Funny stuff tomorrow, I promise!
My sister-in-law is a great lady. She cares, and does everything she can to help her daughters.
This last year I saw this woman's heart get torn completely in two, and now the pain has come full circle, and she's dealing with the problems and issues that her two daughters, my nieces, are going through.
You see, her husband cheated on her last year, and she's not been the same since.
I've never really liked the man. He was quite judgemental, and really never game me a chance to get to know him, or even attempt to get to know the person I am. Because of this, I was never "good enough" for him or his family.
Now? I could care less about his opinion, as from my point of view he's no better than anyone else. He's a lying, cheating, selfish, good-for-nothing man who only cares about when he's going to get laid next, and if he's got enough cash in his account to keep food in his stomach.
However, this has completely ripped apart my SIL. These two married basically right out of High School. She'd never been with anyone else, and had only known him and the life she'd lead with him in it. Two daughters later, and she was happy knowing that her family was provided for, and taken care of.
All that changed when the truth came out.
She left.
I don't blame her there. How can you stand to be in the same room with someone who's been living a lie? How can you look into their face, and think that they're going to be honest with you EVER again? How can you live in a house where someone else has come in a defiled not only your home, but your sense of security?
Her way of dealing was to get drunk. Quite often.
Becoming so numb that the pain would lessen, and she could unbend enough to find some other man besides her ex to fill the void she had inside of her. (not sexually, you perverts!)
This led her on a merry dance for a while. One guy to the next. Each one she's spout all of these praises about their good traits. But within weeks, the bad stuff would overcome it all, and her suspicions would take over, and the fantasy would crumble.
Imagine her girls, trying to make sense of it all. Hoping that mom would be able to find some place to set down roots. Hoping against hope that the home dance would be over soon. Trying to cope with their own sense of loss and anguish over the split and hurt they could see in their mother and father.
All of these feelings became internalized in the girls. One now has serious anger issues, and I honestly think that she needs counselling in order to get the problem under control. The other has commitment issues, and doesn't trust her partner to be honest with her, regardless of the relationship history. All of this because the ONE MAN they could trust in their lives destroyed it all for a woman.
Yet he still has the gall to claim that his actions didn't cause this, it was brewing from before.
Right now, my SIL has a guy who seems like a nice man. He's sincere, and he's honest. He's got a couple of great kids, and he treats her like the fragile personality that she is.
However, I've got to be honest here.
I'm waiting for the point in time where some fault of his is going to push her away.
I've seen her happy. I've seen her miserable. And I honestly can't see her settle right now. She's got too much going on that she's trying to ignore. There's not going to be any kind of peace for her until she's able to come to terms with this, and it honestly hurts me to have to admit it.
She's met some great guys. Yeah, they've had issues.
Honestly, show me some guy that DOESN'T have issues, and I'll get the campaign set up for him to be the next US President!
But seriously, guys as a whole are screwed up. We mess up TONS. It's genetic, I think.
So guys are flawed, and girls use this opportunity to "fix" them, right?
How does someone who is recovering from a nasty situation like this ever find the strength to try again?
I don't know.
All I know is that I really do hurt for her, and I hope she's able to find peace.
Funny stuff tomorrow, I promise!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Personal Viewpoints!
Today I'm going to try to express some of the thoughts and feelings I get, and see if you get these as well.
I never really claimed to be an excellent wordsmith. I know there are folks out there who can take a phrase, and make it completely meaningful to the person reading. I'm not one of them.
I'm just going to try to describe the scene, and the look, and maybe some of my readers will join in with comments, and give their opinions as to scenes and looks that really touch them as well.
OK. Here goes!
Each and every evening when I pull up to the house, I am greeted by the sight of my yellow Labrador named Sassy looking out the glass panes of my french doors for some sign of me. I don't know how she's able to tell what time it is, or how she even knows that I'm headed home, but the excitement she gives off really brightens my day. Her growling welcome and excited yips, the way she wags her tail so hard that her backside nearly knocks her over, the impatient prancing of her paws, and the deep sigh of contentment once she gets a good scratch behind her ears... Unquestioned love and devotion.
The bright look in my daughter's eyes each night as I go to tuck her into bed. We'll talk about the day she's had, and what her plans are for the next day. We'll maybe sing a soft little song, or tease each other about some silly thing we remember. The snuggle deep into her fluffy blankets, and the cuddle of a stuffed teddy bear. The tight squeeze of a hug, and the gentle smack of a kiss goodnight. These are the sights and sounds of safety and security in a scary world.
The happy sounds of my kids at play in the yard. The rumble and thump of clothes tumbing in the washing machine or dryer. The sound of running water in the bathroom. The drone of a TV show. The clink of dishes being washed in the dishwasher. The rustle of grass needing to be cut. These are all sounds of a home being lived in.
The open and waiting arms of my wife to give me a hug when I see her. The soft conversations over how the day went, and what happened. The sweet kisses and gentle squeeze of a happy hand. The shining eyes over some small gift or surprise. The laughter over a joke or funny accident. The contented sigh as we curl up to watch TV on the couch together. The proud beaming as we are complimented on the behavior of our kids. The excitement of a small trip to go play in the snow. The gentle laughter of a game of "Sorry". The cozy warmth of a shared mug of cocoa. These are the times when I feel love the most.
Tell me what gets you. What memories evoke special feeling for you?
I never really claimed to be an excellent wordsmith. I know there are folks out there who can take a phrase, and make it completely meaningful to the person reading. I'm not one of them.
I'm just going to try to describe the scene, and the look, and maybe some of my readers will join in with comments, and give their opinions as to scenes and looks that really touch them as well.
OK. Here goes!
Each and every evening when I pull up to the house, I am greeted by the sight of my yellow Labrador named Sassy looking out the glass panes of my french doors for some sign of me. I don't know how she's able to tell what time it is, or how she even knows that I'm headed home, but the excitement she gives off really brightens my day. Her growling welcome and excited yips, the way she wags her tail so hard that her backside nearly knocks her over, the impatient prancing of her paws, and the deep sigh of contentment once she gets a good scratch behind her ears... Unquestioned love and devotion.
The bright look in my daughter's eyes each night as I go to tuck her into bed. We'll talk about the day she's had, and what her plans are for the next day. We'll maybe sing a soft little song, or tease each other about some silly thing we remember. The snuggle deep into her fluffy blankets, and the cuddle of a stuffed teddy bear. The tight squeeze of a hug, and the gentle smack of a kiss goodnight. These are the sights and sounds of safety and security in a scary world.
The happy sounds of my kids at play in the yard. The rumble and thump of clothes tumbing in the washing machine or dryer. The sound of running water in the bathroom. The drone of a TV show. The clink of dishes being washed in the dishwasher. The rustle of grass needing to be cut. These are all sounds of a home being lived in.
The open and waiting arms of my wife to give me a hug when I see her. The soft conversations over how the day went, and what happened. The sweet kisses and gentle squeeze of a happy hand. The shining eyes over some small gift or surprise. The laughter over a joke or funny accident. The contented sigh as we curl up to watch TV on the couch together. The proud beaming as we are complimented on the behavior of our kids. The excitement of a small trip to go play in the snow. The gentle laughter of a game of "Sorry". The cozy warmth of a shared mug of cocoa. These are the times when I feel love the most.
Tell me what gets you. What memories evoke special feeling for you?
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
All it takes are a couple of words...
Yeah.
Well, the wife _did_ admit that she called my to-do stuff "men's work".
However, because of that statement, I inferred about the "woman's work" stuff.
Now, this isn't to say that I expected her to _do_ any of the work I was having to do.
But sometimes the most help is an added set of hands. To hold a flashlight, or hand me a screwdriver when I can't reach it, etc..
To blatantly look at me, and tell me you're not going to even be around because it's not your job, it's mine?
Yeah, that's really what got my fur all ruffled.
But we're good now.
Isn't it amazing that there are certain key words that can set someone off?
In just one or two words, I know that I can send my wife from being a loving, caring, kissing, and happy individual into a headhunting, hating, killing, maiming machine.
Well, not all of that, but it does tend to turn her mood completely around...
The same can be said of just about anyone. There are things - words, phrases, insinuations - that tend to rub folks the wrong way.
There might be complete innocence in the uttering of this word, and it can still set off a strong reaction.
Now, this goes both ways.
Some words can take a good mood, and turn it sour.
Some words can take a bad mood, and brighten it considerably.
My hope for myself is to learn how to control these words, and to pick them very carefully.
My reason for this?
It all comes down to a simple gradeschool rhyme, but with a slight addition:
"Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can break my heart"
Yeah. Outwardly, they don't do any damage. It's the person inside that you're killing when you use these words to cut.
Why is it that some of the "funny" stuff we watch on TV is all about one character cutting down another?
I can rattle off some of these shows: Family Guy. Married, with Children. Two and a Half Men. Seinfeld.
Yeah, some aren't running anymore, but they were wildly popular.
I know that I try to make humorous remarks, and there are times where the stuff I'm ranting and raving about here at work is really quite funny.
However, I'm doing the rant with the anger and angst of the moment, and not thinking about how the person I'm writing about would feel if they were to read the post.
Maybe this is all stemming from my talk with my daughter last night, but I'm really trying to be a good father. I want to be someone my kids will grow up to emulate.
Do I want them to grow up as sarcastic smart-assed little brats with no consideration for another person's feelings, or do I want them to be well-adjusted people who try to make sure each and every person they come into contact with enjoys their company and presence?
Yeah. I think we all would like choice #2 when we're honest with ourselves.
I'll be back to my old self eventually, but for now, thanks for reading the serious side, too!
Well, the wife _did_ admit that she called my to-do stuff "men's work".
However, because of that statement, I inferred about the "woman's work" stuff.
Now, this isn't to say that I expected her to _do_ any of the work I was having to do.
But sometimes the most help is an added set of hands. To hold a flashlight, or hand me a screwdriver when I can't reach it, etc..
To blatantly look at me, and tell me you're not going to even be around because it's not your job, it's mine?
Yeah, that's really what got my fur all ruffled.
But we're good now.
Isn't it amazing that there are certain key words that can set someone off?
In just one or two words, I know that I can send my wife from being a loving, caring, kissing, and happy individual into a headhunting, hating, killing, maiming machine.
Well, not all of that, but it does tend to turn her mood completely around...
The same can be said of just about anyone. There are things - words, phrases, insinuations - that tend to rub folks the wrong way.
There might be complete innocence in the uttering of this word, and it can still set off a strong reaction.
Now, this goes both ways.
Some words can take a good mood, and turn it sour.
Some words can take a bad mood, and brighten it considerably.
My hope for myself is to learn how to control these words, and to pick them very carefully.
My reason for this?
It all comes down to a simple gradeschool rhyme, but with a slight addition:
"Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can break my heart"
Yeah. Outwardly, they don't do any damage. It's the person inside that you're killing when you use these words to cut.
Why is it that some of the "funny" stuff we watch on TV is all about one character cutting down another?
I can rattle off some of these shows: Family Guy. Married, with Children. Two and a Half Men. Seinfeld.
Yeah, some aren't running anymore, but they were wildly popular.
I know that I try to make humorous remarks, and there are times where the stuff I'm ranting and raving about here at work is really quite funny.
However, I'm doing the rant with the anger and angst of the moment, and not thinking about how the person I'm writing about would feel if they were to read the post.
Maybe this is all stemming from my talk with my daughter last night, but I'm really trying to be a good father. I want to be someone my kids will grow up to emulate.
Do I want them to grow up as sarcastic smart-assed little brats with no consideration for another person's feelings, or do I want them to be well-adjusted people who try to make sure each and every person they come into contact with enjoys their company and presence?
Yeah. I think we all would like choice #2 when we're honest with ourselves.
I'll be back to my old self eventually, but for now, thanks for reading the serious side, too!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
More talk about relationships!
Yeah, I haven't talked about the guy/girl phenomenon for a couple of weeks, so I'll get right back to my endless rant.
Here's something that completely confuses me, and I kind of want some feedback on it.
I'm going to give you a personal account of something that's happening in my household, and things that you might do to resolve it, ok?
I'm terrible, and I do mean TERRIBLE with money. Sure, there are times where I can save up enough when it's a short-term goal. But budgeting and keeping to it? Nah, not so much.
My wife, on the other hand, is a budgeting genius. She can plot and plan each payment out to the last penny before even glancing at the checkbook balance.
As I've posted in my profile, we're getting ready to take my kids to Disneyland here next month. Because of this, we really need to save up some cash to take along with.
I remind the wife, she nods. I trust it will get done. She's the budgeting wizard, after all!
Um.. It hasn't happened yet.
Now we're by no means hurting in the paycheck department. We both make enough to comfortably live. Yet with the slow economy, sales have dropped, so work at my warehouse is thinning. This cuts back on the overtime I could count on, as well as giving me opportunities to leave early. Yeah, I know I shouldn't take them (and I've been good lately about staying!) but when there's a chance of getting out of here with my sanity somewhat intact for the day, I jump at it before it gets a chance to make a break for it!
Still, even with these issues, we make enough to more than cover our bills, and stay well off.
Where does the cash go?
Do I take into account the need for replacing clothes the kids wear out?
Probably not.
How about the sundries like dishwashing detergent and such?
More than likely, no.
So where do I get off complaining about this?
Maybe it's the fact that even though I completely SUCK at budgeting, I'd still like to be kept involved in our family's finances. To know where the money's going. To know how much (or how little) we do (or don't) have.
Is that asking too much?
Here's something that completely confuses me, and I kind of want some feedback on it.
I'm going to give you a personal account of something that's happening in my household, and things that you might do to resolve it, ok?
I'm terrible, and I do mean TERRIBLE with money. Sure, there are times where I can save up enough when it's a short-term goal. But budgeting and keeping to it? Nah, not so much.
My wife, on the other hand, is a budgeting genius. She can plot and plan each payment out to the last penny before even glancing at the checkbook balance.
As I've posted in my profile, we're getting ready to take my kids to Disneyland here next month. Because of this, we really need to save up some cash to take along with.
I remind the wife, she nods. I trust it will get done. She's the budgeting wizard, after all!
Um.. It hasn't happened yet.
Now we're by no means hurting in the paycheck department. We both make enough to comfortably live. Yet with the slow economy, sales have dropped, so work at my warehouse is thinning. This cuts back on the overtime I could count on, as well as giving me opportunities to leave early. Yeah, I know I shouldn't take them (and I've been good lately about staying!) but when there's a chance of getting out of here with my sanity somewhat intact for the day, I jump at it before it gets a chance to make a break for it!
Still, even with these issues, we make enough to more than cover our bills, and stay well off.
Where does the cash go?
Do I take into account the need for replacing clothes the kids wear out?
Probably not.
How about the sundries like dishwashing detergent and such?
More than likely, no.
So where do I get off complaining about this?
Maybe it's the fact that even though I completely SUCK at budgeting, I'd still like to be kept involved in our family's finances. To know where the money's going. To know how much (or how little) we do (or don't) have.
Is that asking too much?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Fessing up..
OK, time to give you a littel more of my twisted history:
Back just before I moved out of my parent's house, my brother and I were actually starting to get along better.
One week, my mom needed to go to a conference, and she and my dad decided to make it a kind of "getaway" and left the two of us home alone for that weekend.
Big mistake.
Huge, really.
Yeah, I was the "responsible" one, and could cook, clean, and keep house.
But when the taskmaster isn't there to crack the whip, do you really think that I'd do something like that?
Newp.
In fact, for that weekend the house became a kind of "anti" Jormengrund house.
All of the rules HAD to be broken. Not just by my brother and I, but by each and every person who came along to visit as well!
Toilet seats left up. Dishes piled in the sink. Laundry sitting in stinky piles all over bedrooms and utility room. Vauum sitting neglected in the hall closet. TV was left on, and dirty plates scattered around the living room instead of eating at the table... The list goes on and on..
However, the one act that took the cake happened the Sunday before they got home.
My brother and I are HUGE fans of boneless country-style cut barbecue ribs.
I've got a "secret" recipe that I break out at least once a year. The family literally waits every year for them, and I never get leftovers. They turn out delicious, and so tender that they fall apart before you can get them on your plate.
Add to this potatoes, and some kind of greens for those health-consious nuts, and you've got a perfect meal!
Well, because I had a job and income, I went and get a good size pack of ribs, and we set about to make ribs for ourselves.
During the cooking, I needed to add some barbecue sauce, because the basting didn't look "just right". While opening this sauce, I found out two things:
1. When air is trapped under a screw-top lid, the pressure doesn't release until the top's off again.
2. BBQ sauce flies much further than you'd think.
Yeah. It shot about four feet across the kitchen and splattered on my brother and the kitchen table.
Now this initial incident was a complete accident. I'm being totally honest here. I didn't intend for the sauce to shoot out, I didn't think of trying to splatter my brother with sauce for the fun of it, and I had no clue that there was air trapped in the bottle.
However, what followed became legendary for a few years to come.
Once my brother realized that he had sticky BBQ sauce on the side of his face and in his hair, he just _had_ to retaliate.
So, he calmly sauntered to the sink, and cleaned up, then surreptitiously opened the refrigerator, and grabbed the bottle of mustard.
I'll let you know that my mom insisted on keeping the ketchup and mustard in the restaurant bottles, so we had these little yellow and red squeeze bottles..
These made perfect "pistols" for condiments.
Yeah. We made a serious mess.
After about 15-20 minutes of mayhem, we calmed down.
That's when we started to look around, and notice the utter devestation that used to be the interior of our kitchen and dining room.
Ketchup, mustard and BBQ sauce over lights, on the ceiling, walls, pictures, carpets, hardwood floors, dog, fireplace, stove, etc...
It kind of looked like the inside of a "spin art" booth you can occasionally see at the fair, only not as pretty.
We spent the rest of the weekend cleaning up.
However, from time to time we'd come across another "strange" stain, and clean it up. When one of us would see the other, we'd fall into complete hysterics over it.
We finally came clean with them about two years ago, and my mom said something that I don't think I'll EVER forget:
"That explains the ketchup I found in the dishwasher! I wondered how it had gotten in there!"
Yeah.
Don't ask, just chuckle and enjoy!
Back just before I moved out of my parent's house, my brother and I were actually starting to get along better.
One week, my mom needed to go to a conference, and she and my dad decided to make it a kind of "getaway" and left the two of us home alone for that weekend.
Big mistake.
Huge, really.
Yeah, I was the "responsible" one, and could cook, clean, and keep house.
But when the taskmaster isn't there to crack the whip, do you really think that I'd do something like that?
Newp.
In fact, for that weekend the house became a kind of "anti" Jormengrund house.
All of the rules HAD to be broken. Not just by my brother and I, but by each and every person who came along to visit as well!
Toilet seats left up. Dishes piled in the sink. Laundry sitting in stinky piles all over bedrooms and utility room. Vauum sitting neglected in the hall closet. TV was left on, and dirty plates scattered around the living room instead of eating at the table... The list goes on and on..
However, the one act that took the cake happened the Sunday before they got home.
My brother and I are HUGE fans of boneless country-style cut barbecue ribs.
I've got a "secret" recipe that I break out at least once a year. The family literally waits every year for them, and I never get leftovers. They turn out delicious, and so tender that they fall apart before you can get them on your plate.
Add to this potatoes, and some kind of greens for those health-consious nuts, and you've got a perfect meal!
Well, because I had a job and income, I went and get a good size pack of ribs, and we set about to make ribs for ourselves.
During the cooking, I needed to add some barbecue sauce, because the basting didn't look "just right". While opening this sauce, I found out two things:
1. When air is trapped under a screw-top lid, the pressure doesn't release until the top's off again.
2. BBQ sauce flies much further than you'd think.
Yeah. It shot about four feet across the kitchen and splattered on my brother and the kitchen table.
Now this initial incident was a complete accident. I'm being totally honest here. I didn't intend for the sauce to shoot out, I didn't think of trying to splatter my brother with sauce for the fun of it, and I had no clue that there was air trapped in the bottle.
However, what followed became legendary for a few years to come.
Once my brother realized that he had sticky BBQ sauce on the side of his face and in his hair, he just _had_ to retaliate.
So, he calmly sauntered to the sink, and cleaned up, then surreptitiously opened the refrigerator, and grabbed the bottle of mustard.
I'll let you know that my mom insisted on keeping the ketchup and mustard in the restaurant bottles, so we had these little yellow and red squeeze bottles..
These made perfect "pistols" for condiments.
Yeah. We made a serious mess.
After about 15-20 minutes of mayhem, we calmed down.
That's when we started to look around, and notice the utter devestation that used to be the interior of our kitchen and dining room.
Ketchup, mustard and BBQ sauce over lights, on the ceiling, walls, pictures, carpets, hardwood floors, dog, fireplace, stove, etc...
It kind of looked like the inside of a "spin art" booth you can occasionally see at the fair, only not as pretty.
We spent the rest of the weekend cleaning up.
However, from time to time we'd come across another "strange" stain, and clean it up. When one of us would see the other, we'd fall into complete hysterics over it.
We finally came clean with them about two years ago, and my mom said something that I don't think I'll EVER forget:
"That explains the ketchup I found in the dishwasher! I wondered how it had gotten in there!"
Yeah.
Don't ask, just chuckle and enjoy!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New Year's memories....
This time of the year brings back one of the hardest things I've ever had to deal with.
As I've stated before in my blog, I was basically raised by my grandmother and grandfather, as my parents both worked, and didn't have the scheduling needed to be able to see me or my brother on a daily basis until I was old enough to watch the two of us myself.
Because of this, I developed a very close relationship with my grandparents. Not only were they willing to dote on me and my brother the way only a grandma or grandpa can, they also taught me how to be a responsible person, and one who was able to function well in today's society.
When I got older, I moved back to the small town, and in the course of time moved into my grandparent's house to help them. My grandpa was well into retirement age, and his health wasn't the best. My grandma was fighting her weight, and couldn't get around to get things done like she used to, and needed the extra hand in keeping the house clean not only for herself, but for my grandpa, too.
Living with them like this opened my eyes to some things that were going on with my mom's side of the family that I really wish I hadn't seen or heard about. I could have gone through life not knowing who was being a complete ass to my grandparents when they thought nobody else was looking, or who was stealing from them while claiming to be helping one of their kids, etc., etc..
I was having a hard time of it myself, really. At that point in my life, I was dealing with a divorce, custody of my three kids, a part-time job with no real possible full-time work on the horizon, and parents who preferred for me to stay away from their house, and be someone else's problem.
Into all of this mess came the light of love and life that were my grandparents. They needed the help, and in exchange for a place to stay and a warm meal, I would help them with the daily chores that needed to be done, and work my part-time job.
This ended up costing me something fierce.
In the winter of 2001, my grandpa's health took a rapid fall. He became more unsure of his surroundings, and everyone he met, including myself and at times my grandma, were strangers. His body was gradually shutting down, and he was doing everything he could to fight it off.
Enter New Year's Eve.
I had to work that night, and there were problems that I couldn't deal with. My grandpa was just returned home from his last trip to the hospital, where he'd dealt with a minor stroke. He was recovering pretty well, and able to get around the house, but he was even more disoriented and confused. I had to work, and there was no way to get someone to cover the night shift I was working, as everyone was planning on playing around that night.
So, in true fasion, I made sure that my grandma and grandpa were good before I left for work. Then, I left them alone at the house so that I could get my "real" work done.
Coming home at 2am means that if there aren't lights on in the house, everything is normal. I mean, who in their right mind would be up when you're supposed to be asleep? Because of this, I went into my small room, and went to sleep.
It wasn't until 6am the next morning that I got the news. My mother walked into my room, and woke me up to help her get some things for my grandma.
While I'd been at work, my grandpa had another stroke, this one combined with a heart attack. He and my grandma were at the hospital, and it didn't look like he was going to be coming home.
I showered, dressed, and grabbed things I knew my grandma would need, and we drove to the hospital.
The man I saw in that bed when I entered the room was not the man I knew. He was small, emanciated, wrinkled, and looked dead. He was not the vibrant, laughing, happy, and confident man I had come to know and love.
Monitors beeped from around his bedside, and my grandma sat next to him, holding his hand, and talking softly to him.
A young doctor came in around 9am, and told my grandma that he wasn't sure why my grandpa was still alive, but that he would never really regain enough strength to return home.
After hearing those words, my grandma waited for the doctor to leave, and she spoke the most touching and heart-wrenching words I've ever heard.
"It's ok. You don't have to stay here for me. I'll be fine. I've got your grandson here to help me."
With those words, something in my grandpa's face lightened, and within 5 minutes he was gone.
I'll never forget him, and as long as I live I'll miss his smile, his laugh, and his love for life.
I miss you grandpa, and I swear this year, as I do every year since you've gone, that I'll try to live like you always wanted me to.
As I've stated before in my blog, I was basically raised by my grandmother and grandfather, as my parents both worked, and didn't have the scheduling needed to be able to see me or my brother on a daily basis until I was old enough to watch the two of us myself.
Because of this, I developed a very close relationship with my grandparents. Not only were they willing to dote on me and my brother the way only a grandma or grandpa can, they also taught me how to be a responsible person, and one who was able to function well in today's society.
When I got older, I moved back to the small town, and in the course of time moved into my grandparent's house to help them. My grandpa was well into retirement age, and his health wasn't the best. My grandma was fighting her weight, and couldn't get around to get things done like she used to, and needed the extra hand in keeping the house clean not only for herself, but for my grandpa, too.
Living with them like this opened my eyes to some things that were going on with my mom's side of the family that I really wish I hadn't seen or heard about. I could have gone through life not knowing who was being a complete ass to my grandparents when they thought nobody else was looking, or who was stealing from them while claiming to be helping one of their kids, etc., etc..
I was having a hard time of it myself, really. At that point in my life, I was dealing with a divorce, custody of my three kids, a part-time job with no real possible full-time work on the horizon, and parents who preferred for me to stay away from their house, and be someone else's problem.
Into all of this mess came the light of love and life that were my grandparents. They needed the help, and in exchange for a place to stay and a warm meal, I would help them with the daily chores that needed to be done, and work my part-time job.
This ended up costing me something fierce.
In the winter of 2001, my grandpa's health took a rapid fall. He became more unsure of his surroundings, and everyone he met, including myself and at times my grandma, were strangers. His body was gradually shutting down, and he was doing everything he could to fight it off.
Enter New Year's Eve.
I had to work that night, and there were problems that I couldn't deal with. My grandpa was just returned home from his last trip to the hospital, where he'd dealt with a minor stroke. He was recovering pretty well, and able to get around the house, but he was even more disoriented and confused. I had to work, and there was no way to get someone to cover the night shift I was working, as everyone was planning on playing around that night.
So, in true fasion, I made sure that my grandma and grandpa were good before I left for work. Then, I left them alone at the house so that I could get my "real" work done.
Coming home at 2am means that if there aren't lights on in the house, everything is normal. I mean, who in their right mind would be up when you're supposed to be asleep? Because of this, I went into my small room, and went to sleep.
It wasn't until 6am the next morning that I got the news. My mother walked into my room, and woke me up to help her get some things for my grandma.
While I'd been at work, my grandpa had another stroke, this one combined with a heart attack. He and my grandma were at the hospital, and it didn't look like he was going to be coming home.
I showered, dressed, and grabbed things I knew my grandma would need, and we drove to the hospital.
The man I saw in that bed when I entered the room was not the man I knew. He was small, emanciated, wrinkled, and looked dead. He was not the vibrant, laughing, happy, and confident man I had come to know and love.
Monitors beeped from around his bedside, and my grandma sat next to him, holding his hand, and talking softly to him.
A young doctor came in around 9am, and told my grandma that he wasn't sure why my grandpa was still alive, but that he would never really regain enough strength to return home.
After hearing those words, my grandma waited for the doctor to leave, and she spoke the most touching and heart-wrenching words I've ever heard.
"It's ok. You don't have to stay here for me. I'll be fine. I've got your grandson here to help me."
With those words, something in my grandpa's face lightened, and within 5 minutes he was gone.
I'll never forget him, and as long as I live I'll miss his smile, his laugh, and his love for life.
I miss you grandpa, and I swear this year, as I do every year since you've gone, that I'll try to live like you always wanted me to.
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