So now what?

Let me just say up front that I am aware of my own oddity. My sense of humor is dark and sometimes juvenile. I am fascinated by things that a "normal" 41 year old woman probably isn't interested in (but whose to say what is "normal," right?). If I had my choice, I'd walk around looking like Lizbeth Salander. My life has been complicated - so of course in my opinion, I'm complicated and weird.

So having said all that and knowing I see myself that way, to find a partner who totally gets me - one that I could say anything to and completely be myself around, was a shock and so wonderfully amazing! To say that I loved this man would be the understatement of the decade. All the cynicism about love and soulmates had vanished.

But as is the story of my life, it got complicated. We had amazingly awesome times, and we had amazingly bad ones. He had his own issues, and no matter how much I loved him, my self-respect and children had to come first. I tried so hard to deal with (and even accept) the occasional name calling, the arguments, the disrespect. But here's the absolute line: how could I teach my two girls to be strong, confident women who don't allow themselves to be treated disrespectfully when they see their own mother being treated that way. When they see their mother not being strong. When they see their mother losing all confidence and self-respect.

Oh my God I loved that man. With my soul I loved him.

But I love my children more. So I ended it.

And now what? Where do I go from here?

Everything I thought my future was, isn't. I think of how the future might be now. Eventually that may include dating, which feels me with dread. Is there even a point? What if he was my one true fit? Am I ever going to find another man who completely understands me and doesn't think I'm a freak? Am I ever going to find another man with who I have that chemistry?

It's not that I want to go back, I don't. I just wonder if that was it. I can't imagine there is someone else out there who will fit me so perfectly. Who will understand me and my odd ways of thinking. So do I have to settle for less than I really want?

If I was going to do that, I would have stayed. And there is my answer.

I have to be ok with the idea of living alone with my dogs in my old age. Maybe I'll be ok with that when I'm ok with the thought of dating. Maybe those things happen when the cracks in my heart finally come together permanently. As it stands now, they keep re-opening.

As it also stands now, my girls have an example of strength and self-respect. One day, they will know that. One day, they will have to face a hard choice. One day, they will have to draw on their inner confidence. One day, they will have to kick ass and take names.

I hope they remember me when they do.

Not understanding

R had a play date on Friday with a girl she has known since preschool. They live just down the street around the corner. The girl's mom picked up R and took her home after school. This is the conversation later Friday night:

R: "Why don't we have a theater in our house like they do?"
Me: "You mean a big TV on the wall?"
R: "No. A big screen in another room where you watch movies and the screen rolls down from the ceiling. How come we don't have one of those?"
Me: "Well, we just don't have the room for one of those of course."

Room for one! I crack myself up. How about this: honey, we are poor. We will never have a screen that rolls down from the ceiling unless you get popped for a federal crime and can go to a nice white-collar prison where they show movies and not just county lock-up.

R is in kindergarten. Parents are asked to volunteer once a week, which seeing as how I work, I can't do. I told her teacher I would volunteer once a month. So yesterday was my day.

There are 4 kids at R's table, and I was in charge of her table. They were all working on their projects and R asked me if I was going to be there every Wednesday. Oh, here we go, I think to myself - the mom guilt. "No, I can only be here sometimes," I tell my sweet girl with sadness in my voice. She nods and says "Ok."

Wait a tic. Was that relief I heard in her voice? Certainly not. She definitely wants me there, right?!

Her teacher walks by at this point and says R's table gets a point because they were all coloring and on task. Of course, I give a whoop whoop and raise the roof!! I mean, a point is a point right? R points her finger at me and shakes her head no. I got reprimanded by my own kid, who is 5! Are you kidding me?

The table finishes their project and R tells me it's ok for me to leave. She wants me to go! I tell her I'm the coolest mom she knows but she's not buying it.

She really doesn't want me there. I can't figure it out. Maybe it's because I'm dressed for work and actually have makeup on. Not like the other moms there who were in jogging suits with no makeup on. I reserve that look for the weekends.

Just wait until that child is older, and I really embarrass her. I can't wait.

Found

A volcano erupts when the pressure builds too high. A cat will rip you a nice slash when it’s pissed enough. A strong woman will tell you to fuck off when she finds her self-respect again. She will remember who she is and everything that her life has stood for. She will know that no man who loves her would call her names in the first place. A strong woman’s friends will not let her feel alone. They will not let her feel shame. They prop her up when she starts to waiver. They loan her some of their confidence and strength to make it through.

Most importantly, a strong woman will never let her female children see a man repeatedly disrespect her. That woman teaches her female children that self-respect and confidence can sometimes wane, but will never leave you. No matter how white trash you are.

My New Life's Song

This about sums it up - although in regards to the "bitch slapping" lyric, this bitch will cut you if you slap her. Just so you know.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYFNCenCZXI

When you live in a glass house...

One of E's friends from down the street is moving away. They bought a house - not in our overly priced school district of course. I'm sad for E because this friend was the one I actually liked. There is another girl living down the street - we'll call her "L" - who seems to tell E lots of things other people say. For instance, L told E that she "heard" a boy liked her. She also told E that some other girls called E "fat." Seeing a theme here?  Like E, L is 8.

L had to learn that shit somewhere. I met L's (newly divorced) mom and she seemed pretty nice. I saw her a couple more times at the daycare - I waved and she acted like she didn't see me and didn't speak to me either time. I can think of at least three times I invited L to play with E - at E's request. L hasn't been available - one time she was with her dad, another time I got a response many hours later by the time it was obviously too late. One time I invited the mom to have a beer while the girls played. Nothing. Did I offend her by offering her a beer and not a glass of Chardonnay? Who the hell knows.

So where does all this come from? Is it a product of living in this neighborhood? Just for the record, L and her mom are living where we live - and renting. She has nothing on me. So why the snooty attitude? And even more important, what do I tell E? How can I teach her that what other people say is all so much bullshit? Especially when she thinks L is such a great friend. How will E react when I tell her we are not going to ask L to play anymore until L requests it?  I don't want E to be the one always asking to play.

Just because we may be "that" family doesn't mean I don't have SOME mother fucking pride. Believe it. Also believe my first reaction upon E's crying that someone called her fat was to tell her to punch that little bitch in the mouth. You can take the girl out of the white trash town..........

It's the End of The World...Again

So the end of the world is scheduled for tomorrow according to some "religious" people. Maybe it's a good thing we live in the rich neighborhood then. We can totally squat in the mansion next door! If it's still occupied, at least we won't have too far to carry stuff when we loot from other richie rich's mansions! Hell yeah! Imma gonna get the good lawn furniture - not the metal chairs we have now - maybe something like this:

I'd look good drinking a Pearl Lite on this!

It's Not You, It's Me

E had a singing (caterwauling) program last night at her school. I saw several moms I went on the camping trip with. I actually talked to a few. Of course, I approached them. Unlike on the camping trip, last night I was wearing a sleeveless dress. Hence, tattoos showing.

On the camping trip, there was one mom that I really liked. She seemed to keep apart from the other moms and even seemed to give me a "look" a couple of times like "can you believe this?" I probably imagined that last part, but that is how it seemed at the time. She is also one of the moms I talked to last night. She came up to me on her own after my initial 'stalk and pounce' to chat. Which was totally cool of her.

I found that the other moms said hello back to me but that was all. There were no any real feelings or genuineness expressed. I wondered if they recognized me. But if I could recognize them, I'm sure they could recognize me. Right? It's not like the parents don't socialize - there was socializing and chatting going on all around me.

I sometimes wonder if it's me. Occasionally I feel that I should try harder to make friends. It isn't easy for me to make friends. Never has been. I only have a handful of people I consider real friends. I can be a little stand-offish when in a crowd and am not good at the whole small talk thing. On the other hand, do I really need to make friends with these women? Other than for my daughter, why should I? I like the few friends I have - the tattooed, drinking, swearing moms who work for a living. We all feel the same guilt. We all sit in the front yard enjoying a beverage with our feet in a baby pool. We all say "fuck" at inappropriate times. We all try our best to raise our children to the best of our ability. What's more important is that they like me for me - the flawed tattooed white trash I am. Why would I want anything more?

Update on the crazy

R came home Monday with asthma flare-ups. She doesn't have the typical wheezing asthma. Oh no no. My special Piglet has cough-variant asthma, which means she coughs and coughs non-stop until she either can't cough anymore or throws up - whichever comes first. It's usually vomit. I had to take her to the allergist where her medicine was increased. Luckily that seems to be working. And no vomit this time. Aren't I lucky?

And how sweet of her to point out the "mosquito bites" on my face while we were waiting for the doctor. She also raised my shirt and used my belly button as a mouth to say the old "chubby" jokes. You know the ones, "my momma's chubby, my daddy's chubby, and I'm chubby." Yes, she did that with my belly button.

Tuesday night (a/k/a last night) E had the first softball game in her tournament. We play again tonight and possibly again Friday night and possibly again Saturday. Really? For a team that lost most of its games this season, we sure are playing a lot of softball.

Thursday we have a school event. E has to memorize three sentences for the 2nd grade production. Ask me if we've worked on this. What with the softball and illness this week I can barely find time to scratch my ass. By the time I get home after the softball games it's time to take a bath and bedtime. Of course the other moms at the field have had all afternoon to get homework done and dinner eaten. I show up looking like a haggard homeless person.  Come to think of it, that is no different from any other time.

I think the salmon was dancing....

When I was a kid, my mom would call us to dinner, we sat down, and we ate. Sometimes mom would make salmon patties. I detested everything about salmon patties - the smell, the taste, the texture, everything. So you know what I'm referring to, this was salmon from a can. With a cartoon salmon on the front. And by the way, I've also had ham from a can. No meat should EVER come from a can. I'm talking NEVER EVER.  But you know what? I ate that shitty salmon. Why? Because that is what my mother made for dinner.

The kind we used came in a black can with a pink salmon on the front. He may have been wearing a top hat.
Traumatized me.

Flash forward 30-something-ish years and I am now blessed with E, an 8 year old who every single day - every. single. day. - asks me what we're having for dinner. It's almost the first thing out of her mouth when I pick her up.

Me:   Hi. How are you?

E:   Good.

Me:   How was your day?

E:   Good. What are we having for dinner.

Every. Single. Damn. Day. Listen, I hate making dinner. I loathe it. I hate trying to decide what we're having. I hate cooking it. I hate cleaning up after it. So this whole line of conversation makes me doubly crazy. When I tell her what I have taken out of the freezer to slave over in order to ensure she doesn't starve to death, the reaction tends to range from "ugh I don't like that" to almost in tears crying "but I don't want that." 

The rule WAS that if she didn't like what we were having for dinner, she could have a peanut butter sandwich. After last night, the rule NOW is I don't make dinner for her. She is on her own. When she asks me what's for dinner, I will say "Well, WE are having this. YOU on the other hand are having whatever you can find to eat that is somewhat healthy."  Plus, I told her not to ask me what's for dinner at all anymore.

I tried other tactics in the past to stop this behavior. Obviously, I was less than successful. I have to see where this plan goes. I'd like to say that I use the stay-calm Love & Logic system all the time, but it seems I revert back to the parenting style my mother used -- anger followed by silence and guilt. I see how well that worked out, so I definitely need to try harder to use Love & Logic.

Maybe I should also make some shitty salmon patties. See how she likes that.

Camping, Part II

Oy!

For ease and continuity, I'm going to stick to the term "camping" but really it wasn't so rough. I'm sure it could have been a lot worse. We had a bathroom in the house to use but other than that, we had to stay outside. The house we stayed by was super gorgeous inside and out. The property had been in the family for years.  That made it extra special that both E and I defiled the one bathroom we were using. Only onE of us cloggEd the toilEt though. I won't mEntion any namEs.



The really nice house with the nice bathroom, until we got there. Yes, that is our tent!


The tent went up easily with no problems. The M gave me his official combat tent. Look, if the tent can survive Afghanistan, it can survive me putting it up. E got her sleeping bag all set up. I waited setting up my sleeping bag until later, which FYI was a mistake. By the time I got around to unrolling it and getting it like I wanted, I was so tired I didn't care that I was sleeping on the ground. Let me tell you: after about 2 minutes, I cared. The ground is hard and unyielding much like R when she throws a tantrum. As a matter of fact, after discussions on bears and raccoons and the liklihood of one of them approaching our tent, E says, "I don't like sleeping on the ground in a tent."  Really? I love it. As much as I love period cramps and sticking a sharp stick in my eye.

One of my main concerns was how I would get along with the other moms. I even took a change of clothing so I wouldn't wear the same clothes two days in a row. You must understand - that is a big deal for me since most weekends I don't even like to shower. But anyway, turns out the other moms were alright. I could have saved the trouble of packing the extra clothes. Except my underwear was losing the elastic and falling down so I was glad I had a spare. I kept my tattoos mostly hidden and didn't get in the water so the huge skull on my hip stayed incognito.

But holy christ, I was almost blinded a couple of times by the huge rocks on the fingers. The conversation sometimes turned to topics that I had zero input for, such as equestrian things and travel. I was thisclose to spouting the virtues of my beloved pit bulls during one conversation about dogs, but I kept my trap shut and listened. Most of them (and I would venture to say ALL) have Labs. Typical and really? How cliche. At least get a mutt from the pound.

The food, including the mustard and ketchup, were from Central Market. I could kick myself for not taking a picture of the table with it all set out. Everything was organic. I like to eat organic crap too, but shit, on a camping trip?? There was no Hill Country Fair and Oscar Meyer for these people! Hell by the time we ate, I could have eaten a Wal-Mart wienie. And by the way, that is such a fun word to say in my head. Wienie. Wiener. Wiener wiener chicken diener.  I'll stop now.

The coolers I brought with juice and water. Pretty.

All in all it was a fun time and I enjoyed the bonding with E. She needed some alone time with me. Of course, we really weren't alone and she spent most of the time with her friends. But it makes me feel like a better parent to say that stuff.

E ate her weight in s'mores and caught her marshmellows on fire. Good times.

E says she wants to continue with Brownies/Girl Scouts next year. Maybe I can convince her to start a goth Girl Scout troop instead. We can camp at Casino El Camino on 6th and learn the virtues of rock-n-roll and discuss the many nuances of the color black. Ahhhh......

New Music

This is my kind of music! One of my main goals with my daughters is to ensure they have a healthy self-esteem and are comfortable in their bodies. Not too comfortable though - I mean I don't want them on the pole shaking what I gave them.

"Lies of the Beautiful People"  - which is kind of ironic since Nikki Sixx is GORGEOUS!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0-mMCFtY4Q

Camping a/k/a Thing I Don't Want to Do

E has her Girl Scout camping trip tomorrow night. I have been dreading this since it was first mentioned several months ago. Listen, I may use all natural cleaning and personal products but that's where the "earth mother" ends. Sleeping outside in a tent, in April, in Texas, is not my idea of a good time. 

Hell, for that matter, being a Girl Scout isn't my idea of a good time. I never had an interest in joining that group. I don't even like the cookies. This is one of those instances where I have to let my child be who she is. Just like I'm pretty sure one of them will rebel at some point and wear cowboy boots or vote Republican. E likes the Girl Scouts and all the crap that goes along with it, so I let her be. Yes, they hold meetings after school and the other Neighborhood moms volunteer. This is one of those rare times where I'm happy I work full-time.

Of course, we'll be staying outside one of the mom's parents' lake houses. Bathroom: check.

We get there around 4:00 tomorrow evening and leave around 9:30 Saturday morning. Short trip: check.

I'll be needing a beverage. Beer: check.

If the M didn't have an actual TENT tent, we'd be sleeping in a fucking Barbie tent. Seriously. But that means I have to really put up this tent, with E - which really means I'm putting it up myself.  I just hope it doesn't blow away or get swept up in the river or lake or whatever. M says there aren't alligators in this part of Texas. I asked.

I'll post pictures when I get back. I'm taking a swimsuit - bikini - shows my tattoos in all their skull-y glory! I'll be sure and wear it while I'm drinking my beer. If I liked Lone Star or PBR, I'd totally take that. In a can. 

Ahhhh memories....



Hey Now!

Welcome to the first post. Let me introduce myself. I thought long and hard about whether I wanted to remain anonymous. I decided that in the interest of my daughters' future, I'll just call myself D. I have two girls, E age 8 and R age 5. I'm married to a Marine known to you as M. We live in a pretty nice part of town - let me rephrase that - we RENT in a pretty nice part of town. Why? The schools are awesome, the location is great, and I have a 10 minute commute to work. 

Although I'm pretty sure I am the only mother at my girls' school who works full-time. Other moms that I know of work part-time or stay at home, and the dads apparently make a lot of money doing whatever they do. That's great for them. Really. I just find it interesting how none of  the moms actually talk to me - well, one might on occasion if I'm sitting there and she has no one else to talk to, but the majority of the time they are talking amongst themselves while I sit there like a lummox.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not really a Chatty Cathy anyway. I don't feel like I have much in common with these women. And I have attempted to talk with them....until they find out I'm divorced or that I can't join their mid-week yoga class. They tend to act like divorce is shocking - hello 1950's.

However, I find the reactions even more amusing when I wear something sleeveless showing my tattoos. These can range anywhere from a flat-out look of disgust to outright staring. I'll take the staring.

So, these are my experiences living in the Wrong Neighborhood. I like it here. I've found my own little slice of poverty, and I'm making it work! Come with me, won't you?