Sunday, November 13, 2011
Backhanded complement?
How we perceive our selves is something that a lot of things factor, how we were brought up, where we lived, if we had money, friends, siblins, family and accomplishments. But it's also ever changing how people speak to us, look at us, view us, and interact with us, and who finds us worth interacting with.
It's interesting how you can feel great about yourself 1 second and someone can say something in passing conversation to them that to you is like someone came out and smacked you across the chest with a huge baseball bat.
Comments that make you stop and think, are they completely clueless or didn't they realize I would take offense at that? Now don't get me wrong I don't take everything to heart, in fact I've learned to really just let things roll off my back, to spin when the bat hits so it doesn't leave a bruise, to pull up my steel shield and block the blow away as it's happening and to just move out of the way so they don't hit me at all, but sometimes, just sometimes I don't see that big ole' bat coming into it's hit me squarely and knocked me over.
Yesterday I received one of those knock-me-over blows, along with a few spinners, what really caught me about these was they weren't the usual ones I receive. The ones I am used to "You look good... for having 5 kids" the "Your house is clean... for living on a farm" or "your house is clean... for having 5 kids" the "I don't know how you manage" with a look of pity in their eyes. Those are normal; those I've come to expect; those I've gotten used to\. I eagerly await the day when someone will not finish those sentences and stop at the compliment which is why I spend hours a week at the gym, and twice that scrubbing baseboards, getting rid of small clutter items, ripping up stained and shredded carpet just to name a few, and have a list a mile long of things that need to be fixed on the house and farm just as soon as I can.
But these were different in another way to, they were from a source that is outside of my normal mommy/school/farmer circles. Not a social worker, a doctor, or a trainer. But rather, a friend, a man, a cutie with the best smile and eyes that suck me in, and keep me daydreaming for days. Someone who never comments on the crap in my life or the state of my place, only listens to what I choose to say and not the small town gossips, talks with out worry or heartache, and says not to worry his house is a mess to. A guy who if he's around will take the time to play a game of tag with the kids just because, a guy's guy that baffles me and confuses me, and interests me all at the same time, while not trying to hide his flaws and imperfections.
So when his godson made a comment "let's go in age order: me first, then Guy, then Girl (me being the girl and the same age as Guy), I laughed and said what? I'm not the oldest! How old do you think I am? and he said 40. I asked how old he thought his dad was, he said 30. He was wrong on both accounts, since we are both early 30's, but I looked to my friend and asked him how old do you think I look? I know typical girl question, and a question that I thought was in the male handbook given to all boys the day they got their first hard-on. You know the one? the one that has the answers to the questions, "Do these pants make my butt look fat?" "Does this haircut make me look old?" " Is she cuter than me?" You know those ones. with the strict instructions to deny, deny, deny? yeah apparently he didn't get this book, either. How did he answer? He answered " You look 35-36, 5 kids will do that to you." What? What did he just say? And then proceeded on with " I still get carded". Yep, WHACK! A big ole' baseball bat out of nowhere, knocked me over. I just went with it and went last, since it turns out I'm a few months older once we did the birthDAY check, (not birth YEAR) same year different month.
Now I know that this should not still be bothering me 2 days later, but it is, and it's become another one of those things that I need to fix, or erase, so that one day I will never, ever, ever hear it again. I think this one is even worse because I don't think I look old, no age spots, no weird pigmentation issues, no scars. Actually I thought my face looked better than ever, thin and trim brows and no stray whiskers or noticeable upper lip hair ( I am very fond of hot wax and tweezers!), no double chin, the only wrinkles I see are frown lines, no visible greys, neutral makeup with foundation/powder, mascara, and lip gloss. I wear a size 6 jean, dress age appropriately for the most part ( if anything I dress to conservatively!) and have all my teeth, white and strait.
I am saddened that my self esteem is so low that this phases me, perplexed how the heck to fix it, and frustrated at Guy's response. I have spent the evening searching the internet for some help on this problem but it turns out stress, and abuse, and inadequate nutrition can make one age prematurely and there really isn't anything that can be done about it.
really? I don't think so!
Today started out great and then made an unexpected left turn, and then continued to baffle me with what had just happened until I was at the point where I sat on the phone with my best friend, while she was outside freezing her ass off with church youth group in abox, with tears silently streaming down my face as I voiced for the first time what the new horrible choices I was going to have to face because of the abusive asshole I choose to marry. But here's the thing, his newest surprise for me i learned over 2 weeks ago, and hadn't told anyone because really why bother? Who needs others shit muddling up your life? Instead I had chosen to keep getting out there and trying to find happyness and fun in my life in aspects I could control, or at least thought I could. Now if I had written this 3 hours ago before I went to the bar with the thought in my head to get drunk this would be a very different story, but I didn't and so it's not.
AS I sat at the bar, drinking my second drink in 5 minutes and staring at the football game on tv, not even trying to be cute or flirty but pissed, and angry, and let down inside, the band began playing a song, one with a good tempo and a beat and words that I knew as I started singing along with the lady next to me as she ordered her drinks with perfectly manicured loong black nails and a precisly ripped shirt I heard the words anew. And they spoke to me and I embraced them and I must agree. I am dynamite damit! I am raising 5 kids on a farm, doing the farm work, working 2 friggin jobs, going to school full time, working my ass off at the gym 5 hours a week, and manage to take care of everything these kids need because $24 a week does NOT feed a kid, much less clothe it, diaper it, give it health insurance vitamins and dental, and pay for classes sports and everything else they need and desire, so I am dynamite damit! And for all those fuckers who think I'm not you can suck it!
Oh and FYI assholes with out any kids, Kids don't make you look older no matter how many you have, on the contrary they keep you young running your ass off with them, singing, and playing and laughing. Domestic abuse is what makes mothers and women look old, assholes like you who treat them like shit every stinking day of their lives until they finally see the liggt one way or another.
AS I sat at the bar, drinking my second drink in 5 minutes and staring at the football game on tv, not even trying to be cute or flirty but pissed, and angry, and let down inside, the band began playing a song, one with a good tempo and a beat and words that I knew as I started singing along with the lady next to me as she ordered her drinks with perfectly manicured loong black nails and a precisly ripped shirt I heard the words anew. And they spoke to me and I embraced them and I must agree. I am dynamite damit! I am raising 5 kids on a farm, doing the farm work, working 2 friggin jobs, going to school full time, working my ass off at the gym 5 hours a week, and manage to take care of everything these kids need because $24 a week does NOT feed a kid, much less clothe it, diaper it, give it health insurance vitamins and dental, and pay for classes sports and everything else they need and desire, so I am dynamite damit! And for all those fuckers who think I'm not you can suck it!
Oh and FYI assholes with out any kids, Kids don't make you look older no matter how many you have, on the contrary they keep you young running your ass off with them, singing, and playing and laughing. Domestic abuse is what makes mothers and women look old, assholes like you who treat them like shit every stinking day of their lives until they finally see the liggt one way or another.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
time to go shopping
I looked in the fridge today, all that was there was milk, corn tortillas, and condiments. I think it's time to go shopping. Good thing today is the 4th and I get new food-stamps.
God, that is so pathetic, to think of where I came from and all I once had, that now I need food-stamps in order to feed my family. It really doesn't make me feel any better that now more Americans than ever are on food-stamps, 1 in every 6 Americans to be exact. But it still makes me feel awful that if it weren't for Uncle Sam my kids would be hungry, that if things in our lives hadn't changed so dramatically the past year that we wouldn't have food stamps and my kids would still be hungry all the time and going to bed with grumbly tummies, that I would often go days drinking just hot tea ( you would be amazed how far 1 tea bag and a bit of milk can go towards filling you up) and a few bites left on the kids plates at dinnertime.
So, while I don't want to be on food-stamps, and wouldn't admit it to anyone that asked, I am truly grateful for them and the country we live in that can help in ways we shouldn't need them to. And I am eagerly awaiting the day when I no longer need Uncle Sam's help to feed my family.
God, that is so pathetic, to think of where I came from and all I once had, that now I need food-stamps in order to feed my family. It really doesn't make me feel any better that now more Americans than ever are on food-stamps, 1 in every 6 Americans to be exact. But it still makes me feel awful that if it weren't for Uncle Sam my kids would be hungry, that if things in our lives hadn't changed so dramatically the past year that we wouldn't have food stamps and my kids would still be hungry all the time and going to bed with grumbly tummies, that I would often go days drinking just hot tea ( you would be amazed how far 1 tea bag and a bit of milk can go towards filling you up) and a few bites left on the kids plates at dinnertime.
So, while I don't want to be on food-stamps, and wouldn't admit it to anyone that asked, I am truly grateful for them and the country we live in that can help in ways we shouldn't need them to. And I am eagerly awaiting the day when I no longer need Uncle Sam's help to feed my family.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Me time
Me time is something I never use to get, it's a foreign concept for me. I am the one that doe the laundry and the shopping; the cooking and the cleaning; the mothering and the fathering, the good little wifey that stays home and does all that can be done including the farming and the animal husbandry; the selling and the marketing, everything and more. So me time is not something there's just any time for.
And now there is. It' not that I have any less to do, it's just that every other weekend all my little people disappear to there dads for 48 hours. In that 48 hours I still have to do the farming and the selling, but after that? At around 3:30 Saturday afternoon, I go into me mode. I read a book, I talk on the phone, I go shopping, or for a bike ride. In the evening I have to do the farm chores sure, but afterwards? I shower and go out. It is great to go somewhere and talk to someone, or watch a sports game, or have someone else cook you dinner and not have to think about the dishes for once. And then Sunday morning? I sleep, I sleep as long as I want, if I wake up before 10, I turn over and go back to sleep and then I take more me time, right up till about 4 in the afternoon. Sure I still have laundry to do and piles of dishes, bills to pay and toys to put away, but all that can wait. Me time comes around for a fleeting period of time and taking that break makes it so much easier to meet the demands of daily life for the next 2 weeks.
Everyone deserves a little me time.
And now there is. It' not that I have any less to do, it's just that every other weekend all my little people disappear to there dads for 48 hours. In that 48 hours I still have to do the farming and the selling, but after that? At around 3:30 Saturday afternoon, I go into me mode. I read a book, I talk on the phone, I go shopping, or for a bike ride. In the evening I have to do the farm chores sure, but afterwards? I shower and go out. It is great to go somewhere and talk to someone, or watch a sports game, or have someone else cook you dinner and not have to think about the dishes for once. And then Sunday morning? I sleep, I sleep as long as I want, if I wake up before 10, I turn over and go back to sleep and then I take more me time, right up till about 4 in the afternoon. Sure I still have laundry to do and piles of dishes, bills to pay and toys to put away, but all that can wait. Me time comes around for a fleeting period of time and taking that break makes it so much easier to meet the demands of daily life for the next 2 weeks.
Everyone deserves a little me time.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
summer days
Summer is going by fast and I am keeping the kids and myself way to busy this year, but in a way that is new to all of us. We are doing things that are fun! The kids are taking classes, the farm is keeping me on my toes, the sun is kissing our faces and we are enjoying life to the fullest. It is a positive change that is rewarding me with smiles, and "thanks mom"'s and building up good memories in their little heads.
4 days a week we rotate between golf and tennis followed by swimming classes, once a week while they are in class I head over to by secret diner for some grown up talk and gossip. We see the libraries summer performances, the evening concerts in teh park, we go swimming in teh afternoon, and watch movies when it rains ( which we really need by the way). The kids have there lemonade stand the weekends they come with me to market, and get to do a little farmers market shopping, Some have gone to camp and some have yet to go, we are readying for fair, and fattening the pigs while training up this years show cow some more.
Thinking ahead to fair week and football practices and what adventures we can get in before school starts again in the fall.
4 days a week we rotate between golf and tennis followed by swimming classes, once a week while they are in class I head over to by secret diner for some grown up talk and gossip. We see the libraries summer performances, the evening concerts in teh park, we go swimming in teh afternoon, and watch movies when it rains ( which we really need by the way). The kids have there lemonade stand the weekends they come with me to market, and get to do a little farmers market shopping, Some have gone to camp and some have yet to go, we are readying for fair, and fattening the pigs while training up this years show cow some more.
Thinking ahead to fair week and football practices and what adventures we can get in before school starts again in the fall.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
baby steps
I have just discovered that I do not know how to flirt, when men are hitting on me, or have any self-confidence at all. For the many years that "that man" and I were married, I was not allowed to look at other men, I was not allowed to touch them, to shake their hand, to look them in the eye. A few months ago when my farm helper started, I didn't even know what he really looked like for the first 3 days, if anyone had asked me describe him, i would have said he was big, and wore black work boots. That was all I could tell you.
My mom keeps telling me I need to get out and meet people, because the other thing I wasn't allowed to do was have friends. Before "that man" left I knew 3 people socially here, that's it 3 that would recognize me walking down the street, 3 that would stop to say hi, and those 3? Those were his best friends who would come and get high with him, the ones he would go sit in the pub with and get drunk, the ones he would spend our only free day (no school no markets) with instead of us his family.
My mom is insisting I get out and do things, that I go to breakfast, sign up for classes, go back to school, go meet people anyone, men - women - old people -collage students - she doesn't care, just people. That I go and make friends and acquaintances, even that I think about maybe looking for someone to date. That would be great and fine and dandy for most people, but here's the thing, I am incredibly shy, before now I had never been out with the girls, I am not a joiner, I don't belong to clubs, and I don't go to work, I work at home, and I am a stay at home mom. Add on to that the years of abuse that have sucked any self confidence I did have out of me and down the drain to the point where I was afraid to get dressed with out his approval, would be berated for cooking a new dish for dinner, and that I constantly wasn't good enough, I was overweight, sloppy, lazy, etc.etc.etc. and you can get an idea of where I am starting from.
Complete beginning, not even 1st day of kindergarden beginning, but 1st day of pre-school beginning
I have found a little dinner that I have been going to once a week, the first time I walked in I was so nervous - it't the kind of place that has regulars, where when the ladies see your car pull up they pour a cup of coffee, or tea, or whatever your normal drink is for you and have it ready when you walk in the door. I love my little dinner, i have taken the kids there, they seem to like it to, but I am so afraid they will tell "that man" where it is, and then it won't be a safe haven for me anymore. I have considered asking some of my new friends to meet me their, but afraid they won't understand why I like it so much, not that their opinion should even matter.
So flash forward to this weekend, my baby girl now has a bed at that man's house and I have no excuse to keep her home with me. She had her first sleepover night on memorial day weekend, and did fine. So now it was time for me to step up, and step out. I planned all week to go to the local dive bar, figuring that was as good as any place to start, it's small it's dark, maybe I could blend in. I was excited and confident, or so I thought. And then I dropped the kids off, and that man asked the kids a question that pulled the wind from my sails.
"Is your mom pregnant?" What??? How in the world? What is he thinking? Why on earth would he say that to them? And no I am not pregnant, their is no way I could be pregnant, it is simply absurd. But that was enough to rattle me to losing my cool. I went home, thinking I must be looking fat, must be wearing clothes that fit wrong, must be... i curled up on the couch with a blanket and moped. And my mom called. Now anyone that knows my mom knows that she can hold a grudge, that she will repeat things over and over till you can repeat them back in your sleep, and who does not understand quite how much his actions affected me. She gave me a verbal kick in the butt, told me to get up and finish my work (I had market in the morning), get out of the sweats and off the couch and put my dress back on and go out. It didn't matter if I went to the mall and walked around, if I went to a coffee shoppe, or the bar, but to go somewhere and talk to someone, even if it was just to order a slice of cheesecake.
I put my dress back on, re-applied my makeup ( i had cried it all down my face) chose my shoes with care, took some cash and left. I felt like I was going to hurl driving down the road. I told myself I would just look at the parking lot and if it wasn't full enough ( so I would be unnoticed) I would go back home. It was packed. I pulled into a spot and sat, trying to get up the nerve to go in. I fiddled with my phone deciding to leave it, I fiddled with my wallet and decided to bring it ( who knew? they might card everyone) trying to decide if I was going to order a shot,. a beer, or a soda, I finally got out of the car. I adjusted my dress and my sweatshirt (a new addition to the outfit after my visit to that mans house - I no longer had the confidence for a sleeveless tank dress) I held my head high, sucked in my stomach, walked across the lot and in the front door, someone said hi, I smiled and looked away, I went up to the bar, it was full of people standing around drinking, I waited for the barmaids attention the girls next to me said something, glared and giggled and walked away. I ordered a diet coke. I thought I was going to die standing there, as she slowly took a can of soda out of the fridge, turned around again for a red party cup, scooped the ice into the cup cube-by-cube, took her time opening the can and pouring it in ful to the very tippy top brim, she couldn't have fit a shot in their if I had wanted one, looked lazily around for a straw and then handed it over. I am sure no one noticed me, but all I really wanted to do was pay her for the drink, leave it on the bar and turn around and leave.
But I didn't, I picked it up and carefully trying so much not to spill and look like an ass, walked into the other room, the darker room, where their were tables and chairs, and a dance floor, and a stage. Luckily for me, this room was almost empty, I went to the back corner and sat down. I sipped my soda, it was cold, much to cold, the jukebox was playing a few people milled in the other corner some people walked in and out. I could hear people talking and laughing outside. I looked at my watch and told myself I needed to stay at least a half an hour. I tried to look approachable in my dark corner in the back of the room , like the internet articles and the youtube videos had said to (pathetic right? I had to look up how to flirt). The band started they were pretty good, I decided that I couldn't leave after they played just one song that I had to stay for at least 5 to be polite (I have no idea where I came up with this, I really don't). Some girls came in and started dancing, a couple of guys joined in to, and I was ready to go. My soda had been long empty and I couldn't bring myself to go up to the bar again, but now to leave I had to walk past oh so many more people, and i hadn't seen a single person I recognized from anywhere (this is the only bar in the town where my kids go to school, where the library is located, my new friends live, and where my secret dinner is. I thought I would at least recognize someone). I couldn't sit there and pretend to sit my long empty drink, so I got up the nerve decided to once again hold my head high, put my cup in the trash and walk past all those people, through the door, past all the guys standing around outside and back to my car. And I was doing good, until I heard my name. I stopped I was outside where all the guys were and turned around, were they talking to me? and then my new friends brother was before me. He was talking, and I couldn't remember his name. He asked if I was alone? had I been their long? was I leaving? Ummm, yeah. I said something about not wanting to watch tv, and going to the car, and left. I was so rattled that when i pulled out of the parking lot, I almost hit a car coming down the street, and they honked loudly, I pretended not to notice and sped away, my stomach all in knots.
Well, that didn't go well, not very well at all. But it was a start. Maybe next time I should actually get that shot.
My mom keeps telling me I need to get out and meet people, because the other thing I wasn't allowed to do was have friends. Before "that man" left I knew 3 people socially here, that's it 3 that would recognize me walking down the street, 3 that would stop to say hi, and those 3? Those were his best friends who would come and get high with him, the ones he would go sit in the pub with and get drunk, the ones he would spend our only free day (no school no markets) with instead of us his family.
My mom is insisting I get out and do things, that I go to breakfast, sign up for classes, go back to school, go meet people anyone, men - women - old people -collage students - she doesn't care, just people. That I go and make friends and acquaintances, even that I think about maybe looking for someone to date. That would be great and fine and dandy for most people, but here's the thing, I am incredibly shy, before now I had never been out with the girls, I am not a joiner, I don't belong to clubs, and I don't go to work, I work at home, and I am a stay at home mom. Add on to that the years of abuse that have sucked any self confidence I did have out of me and down the drain to the point where I was afraid to get dressed with out his approval, would be berated for cooking a new dish for dinner, and that I constantly wasn't good enough, I was overweight, sloppy, lazy, etc.etc.etc. and you can get an idea of where I am starting from.
Complete beginning, not even 1st day of kindergarden beginning, but 1st day of pre-school beginning
I have found a little dinner that I have been going to once a week, the first time I walked in I was so nervous - it't the kind of place that has regulars, where when the ladies see your car pull up they pour a cup of coffee, or tea, or whatever your normal drink is for you and have it ready when you walk in the door. I love my little dinner, i have taken the kids there, they seem to like it to, but I am so afraid they will tell "that man" where it is, and then it won't be a safe haven for me anymore. I have considered asking some of my new friends to meet me their, but afraid they won't understand why I like it so much, not that their opinion should even matter.
So flash forward to this weekend, my baby girl now has a bed at that man's house and I have no excuse to keep her home with me. She had her first sleepover night on memorial day weekend, and did fine. So now it was time for me to step up, and step out. I planned all week to go to the local dive bar, figuring that was as good as any place to start, it's small it's dark, maybe I could blend in. I was excited and confident, or so I thought. And then I dropped the kids off, and that man asked the kids a question that pulled the wind from my sails.
"Is your mom pregnant?" What??? How in the world? What is he thinking? Why on earth would he say that to them? And no I am not pregnant, their is no way I could be pregnant, it is simply absurd. But that was enough to rattle me to losing my cool. I went home, thinking I must be looking fat, must be wearing clothes that fit wrong, must be... i curled up on the couch with a blanket and moped. And my mom called. Now anyone that knows my mom knows that she can hold a grudge, that she will repeat things over and over till you can repeat them back in your sleep, and who does not understand quite how much his actions affected me. She gave me a verbal kick in the butt, told me to get up and finish my work (I had market in the morning), get out of the sweats and off the couch and put my dress back on and go out. It didn't matter if I went to the mall and walked around, if I went to a coffee shoppe, or the bar, but to go somewhere and talk to someone, even if it was just to order a slice of cheesecake.
I put my dress back on, re-applied my makeup ( i had cried it all down my face) chose my shoes with care, took some cash and left. I felt like I was going to hurl driving down the road. I told myself I would just look at the parking lot and if it wasn't full enough ( so I would be unnoticed) I would go back home. It was packed. I pulled into a spot and sat, trying to get up the nerve to go in. I fiddled with my phone deciding to leave it, I fiddled with my wallet and decided to bring it ( who knew? they might card everyone) trying to decide if I was going to order a shot,. a beer, or a soda, I finally got out of the car. I adjusted my dress and my sweatshirt (a new addition to the outfit after my visit to that mans house - I no longer had the confidence for a sleeveless tank dress) I held my head high, sucked in my stomach, walked across the lot and in the front door, someone said hi, I smiled and looked away, I went up to the bar, it was full of people standing around drinking, I waited for the barmaids attention the girls next to me said something, glared and giggled and walked away. I ordered a diet coke. I thought I was going to die standing there, as she slowly took a can of soda out of the fridge, turned around again for a red party cup, scooped the ice into the cup cube-by-cube, took her time opening the can and pouring it in ful to the very tippy top brim, she couldn't have fit a shot in their if I had wanted one, looked lazily around for a straw and then handed it over. I am sure no one noticed me, but all I really wanted to do was pay her for the drink, leave it on the bar and turn around and leave.
But I didn't, I picked it up and carefully trying so much not to spill and look like an ass, walked into the other room, the darker room, where their were tables and chairs, and a dance floor, and a stage. Luckily for me, this room was almost empty, I went to the back corner and sat down. I sipped my soda, it was cold, much to cold, the jukebox was playing a few people milled in the other corner some people walked in and out. I could hear people talking and laughing outside. I looked at my watch and told myself I needed to stay at least a half an hour. I tried to look approachable in my dark corner in the back of the room , like the internet articles and the youtube videos had said to (pathetic right? I had to look up how to flirt). The band started they were pretty good, I decided that I couldn't leave after they played just one song that I had to stay for at least 5 to be polite (I have no idea where I came up with this, I really don't). Some girls came in and started dancing, a couple of guys joined in to, and I was ready to go. My soda had been long empty and I couldn't bring myself to go up to the bar again, but now to leave I had to walk past oh so many more people, and i hadn't seen a single person I recognized from anywhere (this is the only bar in the town where my kids go to school, where the library is located, my new friends live, and where my secret dinner is. I thought I would at least recognize someone). I couldn't sit there and pretend to sit my long empty drink, so I got up the nerve decided to once again hold my head high, put my cup in the trash and walk past all those people, through the door, past all the guys standing around outside and back to my car. And I was doing good, until I heard my name. I stopped I was outside where all the guys were and turned around, were they talking to me? and then my new friends brother was before me. He was talking, and I couldn't remember his name. He asked if I was alone? had I been their long? was I leaving? Ummm, yeah. I said something about not wanting to watch tv, and going to the car, and left. I was so rattled that when i pulled out of the parking lot, I almost hit a car coming down the street, and they honked loudly, I pretended not to notice and sped away, my stomach all in knots.
Well, that didn't go well, not very well at all. But it was a start. Maybe next time I should actually get that shot.
Monday, May 9, 2011
This new life of mine
is differeent. strange; busy, jam-packed with activities, and nice. I mean really nice, it seems odd that being a single parent, and running a business on my own is so much easier than how my life was before. Things happen in my house now that never would have happened before.
For instance, That Man took the bed, our marrital bed that we had bought on credit when we were engaged. It was a queen sized bed, the biggest bed I (or anyone in my family for that matter) had ever had. But somhow it was never big enough. I was told to stay on my side of the imaginary line drawn down teh middle, was scolded when I crossed over (even though he could cross when ever he wanted) and if any child for any reason came to our bed, be it a breast feeding babe or a little sickie needing comfort, they had to fit on my side with me. We couldn't cross over. Their were nights when I had a breastfeeding babe and a little sickie crammed on to my side with me. Then their were the sheets and the comforters. He always choose them, or got the final say in how they looked. In over 10 years all of our bed sets were some shade of red sometimes with gold accents. Once he was finally out, and he asked for it, I just let him take it, I didn't want to fight over it.
I then slept on an ai-rmattress for almost a month. a crappy full sized air-mattress on the floor of my room, that had a leak in it. I exchanged it for a new one that also got a leak in it. The dogs piled on it, the kids jumped on it, it slid around the room, it was cold, and I was worried about putting the baby on it, and worst of all, I would wake up in the middle of the night with my butt touching the ground and have to pump it back up again just to have my but touch the ground again by morning. After a month of this, it was clear I was going to need a bed sooner rather than later.
I went out to one of the storage sheds where the bed-frame to my parents marital bed was stored. I gathered up the pieces with the help of my eldest son (a strong 9 year old farm boy) and we brought them inside. 6 pieces; 4 antique cast iron pieces make up the head and foot boards and the side rails and 2 sheets of plywood lay down to support the mattress. The plywood has a love note written to my mom on it by my dad, apparently he bought it as a gift to her. I looked it over and got to work (after calling my mom for her okay. I removed and polished the brass tubes and knobs, I wire brushed the cast iron frame pieces, I took them down cellar and primed and painted them with a new coat of hammered black spray paint. I put on coat after coat - i think I used over 5 bottles of paint, then I dragged them upstairs and sat them up in my room. I didn't put it where the marital bed used to sit large and over whelming his side next to the door and mine in the coldest corner, but rather I sat it up with the head near a window to look out and the foot to the door to see the hallway and the childrens rooms. I ordered a mattress off of walmart.com, my mom and her assistant bought me a big heavy beige Mexican plush blanket, and brown fleece sheets and I went shopping.
I looked all over online for what I could afford and what I wanted, then I went to the mall and searched through ending up at Target. A set of spring sheets, a bed skirt, a set of euro shams, 4 pillows and a duvet cover and a lightweight comforter was what I got. The colors neutral yet inviting, off white, and a muted tealy blue green. I sat up the bed. And we all fell in love with it..
It is dubbed the cozy bed, even now with the down comforter and duvet removed. Nightly I either have to return kids to their beds to get into mine, or wake up surrounded by them. Some days when I pick my 4 year old pumpkin pie up from school the first thing she does is be-line for my bed to sit in it, all cozied up with blankets and the computer. Even the 1 year old baby tucks herself in, it is the cutest thing, she crawls over in between the pillows and pulls the blankets up and smiles.
I am so happy for the small joys in my life that I am getting to experience. Things like my cozy bed. Where I can cross the imaginary invisible fine, where nursing babes and sickies can all come for cuddles and somewhere I want to be.
For instance, That Man took the bed, our marrital bed that we had bought on credit when we were engaged. It was a queen sized bed, the biggest bed I (or anyone in my family for that matter) had ever had. But somhow it was never big enough. I was told to stay on my side of the imaginary line drawn down teh middle, was scolded when I crossed over (even though he could cross when ever he wanted) and if any child for any reason came to our bed, be it a breast feeding babe or a little sickie needing comfort, they had to fit on my side with me. We couldn't cross over. Their were nights when I had a breastfeeding babe and a little sickie crammed on to my side with me. Then their were the sheets and the comforters. He always choose them, or got the final say in how they looked. In over 10 years all of our bed sets were some shade of red sometimes with gold accents. Once he was finally out, and he asked for it, I just let him take it, I didn't want to fight over it.
I then slept on an ai-rmattress for almost a month. a crappy full sized air-mattress on the floor of my room, that had a leak in it. I exchanged it for a new one that also got a leak in it. The dogs piled on it, the kids jumped on it, it slid around the room, it was cold, and I was worried about putting the baby on it, and worst of all, I would wake up in the middle of the night with my butt touching the ground and have to pump it back up again just to have my but touch the ground again by morning. After a month of this, it was clear I was going to need a bed sooner rather than later.
I went out to one of the storage sheds where the bed-frame to my parents marital bed was stored. I gathered up the pieces with the help of my eldest son (a strong 9 year old farm boy) and we brought them inside. 6 pieces; 4 antique cast iron pieces make up the head and foot boards and the side rails and 2 sheets of plywood lay down to support the mattress. The plywood has a love note written to my mom on it by my dad, apparently he bought it as a gift to her. I looked it over and got to work (after calling my mom for her okay. I removed and polished the brass tubes and knobs, I wire brushed the cast iron frame pieces, I took them down cellar and primed and painted them with a new coat of hammered black spray paint. I put on coat after coat - i think I used over 5 bottles of paint, then I dragged them upstairs and sat them up in my room. I didn't put it where the marital bed used to sit large and over whelming his side next to the door and mine in the coldest corner, but rather I sat it up with the head near a window to look out and the foot to the door to see the hallway and the childrens rooms. I ordered a mattress off of walmart.com, my mom and her assistant bought me a big heavy beige Mexican plush blanket, and brown fleece sheets and I went shopping.
I looked all over online for what I could afford and what I wanted, then I went to the mall and searched through ending up at Target. A set of spring sheets, a bed skirt, a set of euro shams, 4 pillows and a duvet cover and a lightweight comforter was what I got. The colors neutral yet inviting, off white, and a muted tealy blue green. I sat up the bed. And we all fell in love with it..
It is dubbed the cozy bed, even now with the down comforter and duvet removed. Nightly I either have to return kids to their beds to get into mine, or wake up surrounded by them. Some days when I pick my 4 year old pumpkin pie up from school the first thing she does is be-line for my bed to sit in it, all cozied up with blankets and the computer. Even the 1 year old baby tucks herself in, it is the cutest thing, she crawls over in between the pillows and pulls the blankets up and smiles.
I am so happy for the small joys in my life that I am getting to experience. Things like my cozy bed. Where I can cross the imaginary invisible fine, where nursing babes and sickies can all come for cuddles and somewhere I want to be.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
3rd day of spring break
Where we live the ice cream stands are only open seasonally, they literally close the doors in the fall and don't open up till the weather is nice and summer is near. Today we had our first ice cream of the season at our favorite Dairy Bar.
Afterwards I took the kids to counseling and then we ran some errands during which one child peed themselves and another threw up all over the counter in the store. Then home to a rousing game of I kid you not, SPIT TAG, the things these kids come up with. And then dealing with The Man who refuses to understand that the kids counseling is private, that they don't have to share with him, or me, or anyone what they say in there, and that they are entitled to privacy of a sort. He called back literally 11 times, and left 6 messages after the kids told him they didn't want to talk anymore and would have continued if I hadn't taken the phone off the hook where it still sits now.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
1st day of spring break
Cleaned up the workshop in the barn while the kids frolicked in the sunshine and played in the mud that is everywhere.
Quote of the day " Hope you have a good washing machine'"
Quote of the day " Hope you have a good washing machine'"
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
You might be a redneck if...
You've ever built a doghouse out of a tarp, a scrap of wood and 6 nails.
The dogs that once had no home will still insist on sleeping against the front door though, even with their redneck hideaway right beside.
According to them, if it's not raining or snowing - hard, it's not really neccesary.
But they will consent that it does make a good sunshade, but only when I'm outside.
The dogs that once had no home will still insist on sleeping against the front door though, even with their redneck hideaway right beside.
According to them, if it's not raining or snowing - hard, it's not really neccesary.
But they will consent that it does make a good sunshade, but only when I'm outside.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tethered
Valentino - born February 14th
Pounding fence posts in frozen ground by hand as it gets dark in between scout drop off and pick up will normally get the culprit a quick ride to the butchers, but there is always an exception to the rule, and lucky for him he's exempt this time.
This little troublemaker has put me in a lot of pain the last few days a night of limping, a few days so far of bruises. See he thought he should follow the big boys when they crunched, then jumped the fence the other day and went for a little early spring free-ranging. The problem arose when I discovered this at hay feeding time and convinced the older 2 to come back by yelling " Hey! What are you doing? get back here!" and shook my oats bucket. The older 2 came a running and hopped over, rather clumsily in the spot they mangled getting out. This one on the other hand, couldn't figure it out. I guess being barely 6 weeks may have something to do with that. He tried to buck through the fence, the dogs tried to herd him away much to his dismay, he began to bawl and his bawling caught his Mamma's attention just as I slipped the rope over his neck. Needless to say muddy ground, weak fencing, a protective Mamma cow, and a calf on rope is not a good mix. So, here he is now tethered until further notice, notice being when I can get a fencing crew out here to fix the mess of a fence someone did not put in properly (why ask for the fencing how-to book if you are not going to read it?) when I can trust that I won't have to do that again.
On another note, apparently Pandora has listening limits, and since we have gone over hours with the kids nightly lullabies, and I am to cheap to pay a buck to use it till the end of the month, I am listing to my music selections tonite via YouTube, which is much more hands on, but has the added benefit of videos to go with the songs.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Some days are harder than others
It's not my fault. It was the little guy!
[/caption]Some days I think we all get thrown for a little loop or two or three. Some days I wonder if whoever is upstairs is paying attention to what is going on, trying to see just how far he can push us, or maybe just having a little laugh at my expense. Yesterdays emotional rollercoaster, along with the cold I seemed to develop last night, combined with todays unwanted mud bath, yet more fence repair, and bullying by him who I am trying to escape Just don't put one in the best of moods.
Hoping hot showers, a cup of tea, a nice flick on the computer and a good nights rest will bring a simpler and easier day tomorrow.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Baby's Bottle
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| Hey, what'cha doing with my bottle? |
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| Open up. |
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| I've got it Mommy! |
My little baby feeding our bottle lamb. She has to hold on super tight, or Dirty Snow, the lamb will pull the bottle out of her hands. And then she has to start all over again. My Baby girl, likes to feed the little lamb, although you couldn't tell by the look on her face.
*Please ignore my dirty floor, white floors do not belong in the entry/kitchen of a farm house.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Baby Powder
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| Caught unaware |
I always seem to have bottles and bottles of the stuff around, and it rarely gets used. Somewhere I think there is a conspiracy that tells everyone to buy new moms baby powder by the boat loads. The stuff is really only good for keeping ants away and occasionally dusting on a moist baby. Now maybe some people use it all the time I on the other hand use it rarely, when heat rash or sick rash; Sick rash, you know the rash on the bottom when the baby is feeling ill and throwing up, but it isn't a diaper rash or a yeast infection? Yeah that one.
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| Covered head to toe |
All the kids were home sick the other day, yes all 5 of the kids were home and under the weather enough not to be able to go to school, and the baby had sick rash from the night before when she was throwing up in her bed, in my bed, on me... Well, I was a little tired when I changed her last diaper and left the bottle of baby powder sitting out. Never ever leave baby powder sitting out if you have kids, it goes from innocent moisture control to a powder bombs in seconds.
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| Dancin'. dancin', dancinn'!!! |
I went upstairs to check on the sickest of the sick, my oldest who was hunkering down in my bed, and by the time I came back the other 4 managed to coat the kitchen floor with a whole bottle of baby powder. They were having a grand old time, dancing, and kicking, and stomping, and patting little handprints into it, rubbing it on their faces, playing makeup with it, and so on and so forth.
It was everywhere, and I just had to laugh, who knew that a bottle of baby powder could cure 4 sick kids of the cruddies?
Monday, March 21, 2011
Thing 1 & Thing 2
Last week (or was it the week before?) we had a huge snow storm here, dumped over 2 feet of heavy wet stuff on us in under a day. A few days later, rain, and flooding.
Somewhere in the midst of all that yucky, cold, wet, weather Farmdog, the border collie was barking at something late at night. I let him out, no big deal who knows what he saw I thought probably a fairy. But then I heard responsive barking just feet from the house. I looked out and sw 3 black dogs, I thought it was a pack of pitbulls. I called Farmdog in, he didn't respond, I went out and shouted at them, 1 ran away. I went inside and got TheOldMan, a guard dog that retired to the farm three years ago to die, that doesn;t look anywhere near deaths door these days... He thought they were great playmates and ran off to play. In the cold and rain. My Oldest suggested getting a gun, a .22 to frighten them away, I was all for it, but that was not an option. So I went after them with a flashlight, I managed to frighten one away while the other just cowered down as I approached.
Once I got near, my heart broke for the little fella, he was soaking wet and shivering, He was skin and bones and afraid i was going to beat him. I stopped trying to chase him away. I went inside and got him some food and tried to convince him to eat. He didn't, but slowly left. I went back inside feeling awful for how I had treated the 2 pups. And I remembered a chapter in the book The farmer boy by Laura Ingalls wilder about a stray dog, and thought maybe they were sent by a higher power.
When they reappeared the next day I was ready, i had food and brought it out to him, he ate wagged his tail and was a grateful little guy. A few days later he returned with his friend. Both were still super skittish, but decided this is where they belonged. Ever since that day (the 3rd dog made a brief appearance, but didn't stay or come near, it was just to afraid of either people or the house to come near) they have acted as if they belong here, at night curling up against the front door together guarding us from the night.
I contacted the shelter, the SPCA, I contacted the animal control officer, I have placed a found ad online. No one has claimed them, someone wanted to adopt them, but I think they have adopted us. They are great around the kids, don't mess with the cats, are cautious around the cattle and sheep (bordering on scared), and play well with the other dogs. I am going to take them to get scanned for microchips, and if they don't have any I am letting them stay. Thing 2 even helped FarmDog and me bring in the cattle over the weekend. Oh, and they are not pitbulls, one is some kind of hound mix and the other may have some pit in him, but not the body type or the lockjaw.
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| The Old Man |
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| Farm Dog |
Somewhere in the midst of all that yucky, cold, wet, weather Farmdog, the border collie was barking at something late at night. I let him out, no big deal who knows what he saw I thought probably a fairy. But then I heard responsive barking just feet from the house. I looked out and sw 3 black dogs, I thought it was a pack of pitbulls. I called Farmdog in, he didn't respond, I went out and shouted at them, 1 ran away. I went inside and got TheOldMan, a guard dog that retired to the farm three years ago to die, that doesn;t look anywhere near deaths door these days... He thought they were great playmates and ran off to play. In the cold and rain. My Oldest suggested getting a gun, a .22 to frighten them away, I was all for it, but that was not an option. So I went after them with a flashlight, I managed to frighten one away while the other just cowered down as I approached.
Once I got near, my heart broke for the little fella, he was soaking wet and shivering, He was skin and bones and afraid i was going to beat him. I stopped trying to chase him away. I went inside and got him some food and tried to convince him to eat. He didn't, but slowly left. I went back inside feeling awful for how I had treated the 2 pups. And I remembered a chapter in the book The farmer boy by Laura Ingalls wilder about a stray dog, and thought maybe they were sent by a higher power.
When they reappeared the next day I was ready, i had food and brought it out to him, he ate wagged his tail and was a grateful little guy. A few days later he returned with his friend. Both were still super skittish, but decided this is where they belonged. Ever since that day (the 3rd dog made a brief appearance, but didn't stay or come near, it was just to afraid of either people or the house to come near) they have acted as if they belong here, at night curling up against the front door together guarding us from the night.
I contacted the shelter, the SPCA, I contacted the animal control officer, I have placed a found ad online. No one has claimed them, someone wanted to adopt them, but I think they have adopted us. They are great around the kids, don't mess with the cats, are cautious around the cattle and sheep (bordering on scared), and play well with the other dogs. I am going to take them to get scanned for microchips, and if they don't have any I am letting them stay. Thing 2 even helped FarmDog and me bring in the cattle over the weekend. Oh, and they are not pitbulls, one is some kind of hound mix and the other may have some pit in him, but not the body type or the lockjaw.
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| Thing 1 |
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| Thing 2 |
I think I am ready
to come back, to blog again, to start anew. You may have noticed that all there was is now gone, that is because all I have known is now gone. My marriage of 10 years is over. What once started as a loving relationship made a sudden turn last year into a very abusive one, it was bad. Bad for me, and bad for the children.
Last summer when my writing slowed and eventually stopped it was because I felt I could not write what was truly happening, I was censoring myself against the truth, protecting myself and others from what was really happening here, and afraid of the consequences that I would face if I shared our lives truthfully, and I was becoming tired of the lies, lies to myself, lies to the world and at the point where I just couldn't do it anymore.
So now I can lay it on the line, try to be who I am, or was, or want to be. I am facing the facts and moving forward. I have been living a new life, or at least trying to since the beginning of December, and I think I am finally ready to share again.
Last summer when my writing slowed and eventually stopped it was because I felt I could not write what was truly happening, I was censoring myself against the truth, protecting myself and others from what was really happening here, and afraid of the consequences that I would face if I shared our lives truthfully, and I was becoming tired of the lies, lies to myself, lies to the world and at the point where I just couldn't do it anymore.
So now I can lay it on the line, try to be who I am, or was, or want to be. I am facing the facts and moving forward. I have been living a new life, or at least trying to since the beginning of December, and I think I am finally ready to share again.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
why didn't he become a man...
I just don't understand how these past 10 years he never grew up. Marrying as young as I did, I expected that we would grow together, that we would adapt and learn and explore life together, that we would experience parenthood together, raise our kids together, grow up together. But somehow he didn't. He didn't help raise our kids, he never changed a diaper willingly, and unwillingly only changed 4 out 5 kids and almost 10 years of diapers thats not much. He didn't work hard for the family, he didn't work hard with the family. He worked hard at nothing. He did not take responsibility for anything. He went through jobs like toilet paper, he didn't study to excel, he didn't care
When he told me he was playing bachelor a few years ago I should have taken notice, when he was fired from a job a few years before that for sexual harassment I should have done something, when he would go and get high instead of going to the park with our first child I should have stepped back and looked at what his and my life was going to be.
I wish when I had talked to him over the summer, when I had told him things needed to change I wish he had listened. I wish he had looked for a job instead of continueing to ask his dad for money. I wish he had stayed home at night instead of going off to get druck, and high, and party, I wish he had helped around the house, played with his kids instead of yelled at them, taught them to do things instead of made them feel worthless.
Why didn't he just grow up to be a man...
When he told me he was playing bachelor a few years ago I should have taken notice, when he was fired from a job a few years before that for sexual harassment I should have done something, when he would go and get high instead of going to the park with our first child I should have stepped back and looked at what his and my life was going to be.
I wish when I had talked to him over the summer, when I had told him things needed to change I wish he had listened. I wish he had looked for a job instead of continueing to ask his dad for money. I wish he had stayed home at night instead of going off to get druck, and high, and party, I wish he had helped around the house, played with his kids instead of yelled at them, taught them to do things instead of made them feel worthless.
Why didn't he just grow up to be a man...
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentines Day
This day was peaceful, and I liked that. Yesterday I made the kids a special Valentines breakfast, I woke them up today with small gifts for each of them (long sleeved red t-shirts that were on clearance from Walmart - 4 out of 5 wore them, albeit not necessarily the one that was meant for them), a nap with the 2 youngest after lunch, and looking through the kids valentines with them after they got home. A trip to the barn revealed a new bull calf, I think I'll name him Valentino :)
That man left roses on the front step for all his girls, that was nice of him, his daughters liked them, and so did I, but that doesn't change a thing about who he is.
That man left roses on the front step for all his girls, that was nice of him, his daughters liked them, and so did I, but that doesn't change a thing about who he is.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Not a health hazard
Oh.My.Goodness. That man is insane, yesterday he told me the house was a health hazard. I then reacted as I am sure he wanted me to, stopped what I really needed to get done, like my work, preparing for the weekends farmers market, and sending out new referrals and website updates.
As he drove away, I began to frantically clean, I washed the dishes, I vacuumed the whole house and mopped the floors, I took folded laundry up to the bedrooms, I picked up toys off the floor, and wiped down the bathroom. I was done as the bus pulled up, and my motherly duties called. Homework and snacks, valentines and crafts, farm chores and projects, dinner and baths, bedtime and a call to my mom.
My mom said that man knew what he was doing, he was trying to agitate and harass me. She asked what I cleaned and pointed out, that that is not dirty, it is messy. I think I knew that, but he just gets to me. having toys out that kids are plaiyng with, having dishes in the sink or folded laundry waiting to be put away is not dirty. Even the floors were not really dirty, especially when you consider that we do live on a farm and it is snow-boot season, and there are 5 kids and 2 dogs that frequently go in and out of the house.
Well, he succeeded. I normally clean after the kids are in bed, when it is to late for me to do any work that requires phone calls. I ended up calling my babysitters house after 9:15 (yikes) just not something you should do, but I needed to talk with her. She was already asleep so I spoke with her mom instead. I couldn't make my calls on the websites or the referrals, I was to tired to prepare for the farmers market (I just wasn't up to 2 hours + of jam making at that point).
Today is going to be a hectic one, as I now have to do all of todays work including prepping for kids tests tomorrow, making snack for one of the kids snack day, and picking up the old dog from surgery at the vets, and domestic abuse counseling, along with what didn't get done yesterday. Wish me luck.
As he drove away, I began to frantically clean, I washed the dishes, I vacuumed the whole house and mopped the floors, I took folded laundry up to the bedrooms, I picked up toys off the floor, and wiped down the bathroom. I was done as the bus pulled up, and my motherly duties called. Homework and snacks, valentines and crafts, farm chores and projects, dinner and baths, bedtime and a call to my mom.
My mom said that man knew what he was doing, he was trying to agitate and harass me. She asked what I cleaned and pointed out, that that is not dirty, it is messy. I think I knew that, but he just gets to me. having toys out that kids are plaiyng with, having dishes in the sink or folded laundry waiting to be put away is not dirty. Even the floors were not really dirty, especially when you consider that we do live on a farm and it is snow-boot season, and there are 5 kids and 2 dogs that frequently go in and out of the house.
Well, he succeeded. I normally clean after the kids are in bed, when it is to late for me to do any work that requires phone calls. I ended up calling my babysitters house after 9:15 (yikes) just not something you should do, but I needed to talk with her. She was already asleep so I spoke with her mom instead. I couldn't make my calls on the websites or the referrals, I was to tired to prepare for the farmers market (I just wasn't up to 2 hours + of jam making at that point).
Today is going to be a hectic one, as I now have to do all of todays work including prepping for kids tests tomorrow, making snack for one of the kids snack day, and picking up the old dog from surgery at the vets, and domestic abuse counseling, along with what didn't get done yesterday. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Snooping
That man has been snooping around, he sees tire tracks in the driveways and wants to know who was here, the kids tell him, it was the Hay man, thats no secret. But what he doesn't know is that it was also the plumber, and the towtruck man. He comes by to pick up something the kids brought back with them from his house, he comes back with things they forgot, 3 separate times. He wanders out to the barn and looks for things, or at things, or who knows. He tries to tell me what to do, he tries to tell me what I'm not doing, that the house is not clean enough, that I am not doing things his way.
For instance he wants me to climb up on the metal roof and shovel off the snow. He has done this *once* and that was the day before the contractor was coming to put on the new roof. I am not climbing on an icy metal roof to shovel off snow; We don't live in a trailer or a double wide, their is no reason to do that. The metal roof is designed to heave the snow off when it gets to heavy. He told me to shovel it off last week, I just said I would take care of it, and rolled my eyes when he walked away. He told the kids to tell me to shovel the roof off, I told them no, and explained how metal roofs work. then guess what? the roof heaved last night and all the snow came off into a nice big pile. Today he told me again to shovel it and I told him to go and take a look, it didn't need to be done. He is such as idiot, I wonder why I ever married him sometimes.
Frankly I could care less what he thinks, or how he wants me to do things. I wish he would stop coming and nosing around. I wish the judge would have given me the order the order of protection I had requested so he wasn't just popping up all the time.
Oh, and he is so mad that I changed the locks, he is ad-emit that I can't do that. And feels it is wrong that I put a *gasp* collar on the dog, and a reflective one at that so that when he runs across the road to the barn at night cars can see him (one of the inherent risks of being a quick black dog, is that it is very hard for cars to see you at night), and utterly dismayed that I have the gall to put the dog in a kennel when I leave the house. When we had a hunting dog we did it all the time, but the thought that I am putting this dog (his dog that he choose not to take with him, and rented a place where dogs are not allowed) in the kennel when I leave the house horrifies him as if I were whipping him! And the dog actually gets a choice, he can either come with me ( this choice is not always available), stay outside and go over to the barn, or go in the kennel. And guess what when it is 10 degrees outside before wind chill, he is more than happy to stay in the kennel. And I am more than happy to put him in there if it means no ripped up papers or chewed up toys when I return.
For instance he wants me to climb up on the metal roof and shovel off the snow. He has done this *once* and that was the day before the contractor was coming to put on the new roof. I am not climbing on an icy metal roof to shovel off snow; We don't live in a trailer or a double wide, their is no reason to do that. The metal roof is designed to heave the snow off when it gets to heavy. He told me to shovel it off last week, I just said I would take care of it, and rolled my eyes when he walked away. He told the kids to tell me to shovel the roof off, I told them no, and explained how metal roofs work. then guess what? the roof heaved last night and all the snow came off into a nice big pile. Today he told me again to shovel it and I told him to go and take a look, it didn't need to be done. He is such as idiot, I wonder why I ever married him sometimes.
Frankly I could care less what he thinks, or how he wants me to do things. I wish he would stop coming and nosing around. I wish the judge would have given me the order the order of protection I had requested so he wasn't just popping up all the time.
Oh, and he is so mad that I changed the locks, he is ad-emit that I can't do that. And feels it is wrong that I put a *gasp* collar on the dog, and a reflective one at that so that when he runs across the road to the barn at night cars can see him (one of the inherent risks of being a quick black dog, is that it is very hard for cars to see you at night), and utterly dismayed that I have the gall to put the dog in a kennel when I leave the house. When we had a hunting dog we did it all the time, but the thought that I am putting this dog (his dog that he choose not to take with him, and rented a place where dogs are not allowed) in the kennel when I leave the house horrifies him as if I were whipping him! And the dog actually gets a choice, he can either come with me ( this choice is not always available), stay outside and go over to the barn, or go in the kennel. And guess what when it is 10 degrees outside before wind chill, he is more than happy to stay in the kennel. And I am more than happy to put him in there if it means no ripped up papers or chewed up toys when I return.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
How did I get here...
I really don't know. I grew up in a good neighborhood, with good values and morals. I grew up in a family that went to church and believed in God. I grew up very fast, my parents divorced, and I became the woman of the house - like it or not. I learned how to run a household and run a business, I did well in school. I moved out on my 18th birthday, 2 months before high school graduation, went to school got a job and had a great life. Then I met a man, a Jewish man with a capital J and a chip on his shoulder. My father died, and I was alone,and with out guidance, and with a lot of money, This man asked me to marry him, and I did. I married this man, this man who loved money, more than he loved me. I was young 19 when we met, barely 21 when we were married. We started having kids, he started spending my money. He didn't listen to me, but he wasn't mean. At least not yet.
He wasn't mean until we ran out of money for him to spend. Slowly as the fount of money trickled away, and he was forced to work like most people he became angry, bitter, resentful, and hurtful. He began saying things to hurt, yelling to control, threatening to scare. It wasn't apparent at first, it wasn't apparent for years, it wasn't apparent till now. As time went on treating me like this was not enough and he started in on the children, the innocent little children who loved him so much, once they could talk and walk, they started to get it as well a little at a time, till they got it as much as me. This also wasn't apparent at first, it wasn't apparent for years, it wasn't apparent till now. I mean who would treat their wife that way? who would treat their kids that way?
This man would and this man did. This man that held me in his control until I no longer knew who I was; this man whose actions put our 9 year old son into the crises center for suicidal thoughts. This man who one day finally pushed to far, and I was unable to overlook it, or excuse his treatment in any way. This man whom I once loved and started a family I had now seen him as he truly is, and could no longer stand idly by and let him continue his reign of torment over us. This man who as he learned the time of his terror was done could only keep repeating " I never hit you. I never hit you or the kids." His one saving grace, that he repeats as a mantra to all who will listen. And it is true, he never hit us, but what he did do was worse, much worse, so very much more worse than simply hitting us.
This man is no longer here. But I am. I am here in a place I never dreamed I would be; A single mother of 5; one who has just learned to walk, a feisty preschooler, a bright huggable little fellow, an intelligent girlygirl, and a blue boy. Here we are living in poverty, white trash in a rundown house, with a beat up car, on foodstamps and Medicaid, WIC and family handouts. With a CPS worker and a social services counselor, trying to get through things just a day at a time, and I sit here wondering just how did I get here?
He wasn't mean until we ran out of money for him to spend. Slowly as the fount of money trickled away, and he was forced to work like most people he became angry, bitter, resentful, and hurtful. He began saying things to hurt, yelling to control, threatening to scare. It wasn't apparent at first, it wasn't apparent for years, it wasn't apparent till now. As time went on treating me like this was not enough and he started in on the children, the innocent little children who loved him so much, once they could talk and walk, they started to get it as well a little at a time, till they got it as much as me. This also wasn't apparent at first, it wasn't apparent for years, it wasn't apparent till now. I mean who would treat their wife that way? who would treat their kids that way?
This man would and this man did. This man that held me in his control until I no longer knew who I was; this man whose actions put our 9 year old son into the crises center for suicidal thoughts. This man who one day finally pushed to far, and I was unable to overlook it, or excuse his treatment in any way. This man whom I once loved and started a family I had now seen him as he truly is, and could no longer stand idly by and let him continue his reign of torment over us. This man who as he learned the time of his terror was done could only keep repeating " I never hit you. I never hit you or the kids." His one saving grace, that he repeats as a mantra to all who will listen. And it is true, he never hit us, but what he did do was worse, much worse, so very much more worse than simply hitting us.
This man is no longer here. But I am. I am here in a place I never dreamed I would be; A single mother of 5; one who has just learned to walk, a feisty preschooler, a bright huggable little fellow, an intelligent girlygirl, and a blue boy. Here we are living in poverty, white trash in a rundown house, with a beat up car, on foodstamps and Medicaid, WIC and family handouts. With a CPS worker and a social services counselor, trying to get through things just a day at a time, and I sit here wondering just how did I get here?
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