Monday, August 31, 2009

Sleep is for the Weak

For the first time in about three weeks I actually slept last night.

Which means that today I am more tired than I have been in three weeks.

Why is that? When you actually get good sleep your body suddenly remembers... hey... here's how tired you REALLY were... can we go back to sleep again?

It's nice to finally be coming to a place where I feel like I can breathe again and my brain can stop spinning 24/7. Now if I could just get caught up on my sleep all would be well.

Happy Monday everyone... is it nap time yet?

Sunday, August 30, 2009

The View From Here

The weekend was good. A meeting on Friday and dinner with good friends. Saturday I got to see my little sister after far too long and she is looking good. All her tubes and drains are out and the function in her arm is slowly starting to come back.

Today a family reunion and then just lying in bed watching Ratatouille (with the Rat Mommy) with the best little man a girl could ask for. Right now I am listening to him breathe over the monitor and getting ready for an early night myself.

Things here are calm and serene. As peaceful as the sunset I just watched out my back door. Exactly the way I prefer my life to be.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Friday Confessionals

Jake came last night to start moving his things out of our garage.

There is a large part of me that still can't believe that this is REALLY happening. I keep thinking someone is going to jump out of the bushes with a hidden camera and yell just kidding!! You really thought you could get rid of him??

I know that sounds mean and I don't intend for it to but here is the best way I could describe it to M last night. (And this sounds just as cryptic...)

Let's say you go out and you adopt a puppy. It is a very cute puppy and you think you will bring it home and house train it and love it forever. Only as this puppy starts to grow it gets big and mean and now you have a big mean dog that messes up your house and bites you.

So, you try to give it back to the breeder. Only they don't want the problem at their house. Their house is clean and mess free and without all the headaches that come from frequent visits to the court house because the dog has bitten yet another person.

So they give you a guilt trip about how you took on the responsibility of the dog and it can't possibly come back to live with them and so if you don't keep it, then the dog will be all alone and possibly get killed.

So you feel guilty, and you keep the dog. And it continues to mess up your house and bite you. But every time you try to give it back the breeders give you a guilt trip and so you let it stay.

Eventually you finally get up the courage to send it off to obedience school. But you promised the breeders and the dog that if it got some manners it could come back. Only while it is gone, you decide that you really don't love the dog any more and you really want it to not live with you anymore.

HOWEVER, eventually the dog gets out of obedience school and you promised it if it had manners it could come back to live with you and so the breeders are pressuring you to take the dog back and so you sort of feel like it is your obligation to keep the dog and you let it come back.

At this point, you know you don't want the dog but you sort of feel trapped so you resign yourself to the fact that you are going to be angry and miserable for the rest of the dogs life because you are stuck with it. You took it in and now it is your responsibility to let it stay.

When one gets to that level of acceptance of being miserable it is very hard to understand that one can be happy again. That there is another life out there and I am going to be able to have it. That I don't have to be miserable forever.

I had resigned myself to the acceptance that no matter what I did I was always going to be with Jake and I was always going to be unhappy. I had married him, for better or worse and I had an obligation to stay.

Does any of that make any sense?

So, excuse me if I continue to look over my shoulders or into the bushes for awhile. This new level of carefree, worry less living is just going to take me a minute to adjust to.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Thursday Thoughts

Ok, as is tradition on Thursdays we are going to talk about something that is rambling through my head. Today that something would be falling in love. I know, I know... how cliche. She just announces that she is seeing someone and now she's talking about love.

Would ya hold the rush to judgement for a moment here and hear me out? I have been dating M for a little over three months now. And while I'm not saying I'm in love with him what I am saying is I am beginning to feel a lot like Colbie Caillat's new song:

Colbie Caillat : Fallin' for you

I don’t know but
I think I maybe
Fallin’ for you
Dropping so quickly
Maybe I should
Keep this to myself
Waiting ’til I
Know you better

I am trying
Not to tell you
But I want to
I’m scared of what you’ll say
So I’m hiding what I’m feeling
But I’m tired of
Holding this inside my head

I’ve been spending all my time
Just thinking about ya
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m fallin’ for you
I’ve been waiting all my life
and now I found ya
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m fallin’ for you
I’m fallin’ for you

So, my question to all of you who have been out in the real world is how do I know? When did you know you were in love with someone? And more importantly, once you knew, how long did you wait to tell them?

My only experience with relationships is from high school and I'm pretty sure that is not going to help me here. In high school you asked someone out and then you were "going out." Pretty sure that didn't happen here so I'm already in unfamiliar territory. We count how long we've been seeing each other from our first date.

Also, in high school I was in love within the first three weeks and planning the wedding by the end of the first two months. And again... THAT is not happening.... I waited a good 10 weeks to start picking out the wedding dress. (Kidding... MOM... I'm kidding... pick yourself up off the floor.) M has not met Zack yet and won't until we get past these three little words and into a place where we are wanting to have a future together so that's not what I'm asking.

I really just want to hear your stories. How did you know you were in love with someone? Once you knew how long did you wait to tell them? Did you wait for them to tell you first? Once you told them did you expect them to feel the same way?

This is all new to me. Waking up and wanting to spend time with someone. Thinking about them during the day because I want to talk to them, not because I'm worried and need to check up on them. All of this is uncharted territory and so I'm really just wondering how it works for other people in the "real world."

So... spill....

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Wordless Wednesday

**You can click on the pictures to make them larger**

Wordy Wednesday

Because we will never... ever... just be quiet again....

I was all ready to put up a few pictures of Zack at the state fair tonight when I got home. And then... as is always the case... life had other plans. On March 14th Zack's life and my life changed forever. At the time I was intentionally vague with the details. Even just putting up the basics got me lambasted from someone who knew us in real life. So, I left out things. Things I didn't want aired here until I was sure what was happening.

And then life happened. We moved on, we created a different life for ourselves and looking back just seemed like a waste of time. However, sometimes the past refuses to stay gone. That was the case this morning.

Before I get to our conversation I think I need to give you the whole story... what really happened that day.

He was downstairs with Zack when his phone rang. It was a girl but he turned it down really low so I couldn't tell. I already knew and even though I was already set on the divorce hearing it and seeing it right in front of me felt like sticking a dagger in my back.

I was in the process of bringing down his clothes so I brought down the rest of his clothes to the kitchen and told him that perhaps it would be best if someone else supervised visits from now on. He of course claimed they were just friends but became very hostile when I suggested that perhaps I should call her just to make sure she understood that he was still married and had still been asking me to get back together.

Sometime around 3:30 he said he was going to go. I told him that he would upset Zack if he left after 45 minutes and so I told him I would go upstairs. I was on the stairs, on my way up, when the first of the threats started. The first of them being that if I took Zack away he would kill himself and he would take me out with him.

Then came the physical intimidation. He climbed the stairs and got right in my face. At this point Zack was watching everything that was happening and I told him that he was scaring him and to just leave. He got out of my face, went and said goodbye to Zack and I thought it was all over. He was leaving.

Sometime between then and the door he changed his mind. Suddenly out of now where a glass was hurtling towards my head. I ducked and it hit a picture that was behind me. The glass exploded and when I looked up at the bottom of the stairs was Zack. Surrounded by glass shards that started where I was on the stairs and went all the way down the stairs and around his feet.

It was at this point that the mother bear instinct kicked in. I'm not sure what exactly I said but I think it was something along the lines of get the f$%^ out of my house. I came off the stairs and towards the kitchen. I had made it to the doorway between the living room and the kitchen when he came back at me again. His fist was out as if he was going to deck me and he was running full speed. All I remember was ducking and when I looked up he was heading for the door again.

I no sooner stood up than a full container of laundry detergent (economy size) was hurtling at my head. I ducked again and it hit the wall above my head and exploded all over the kitchen. Finally after that he was gone.

I locked the door behind him and I called 911.

I know I watched him peel out of the driveway, I know Zack was crying, I know I didn't give 911 my address because I was too upset but they got it anyway. The rest is all a blur.

After I hung up with them I called Miss Jessica. I wanted her husband to come down. They live less than two miles away and I was afraid if he came back to hurt me it would be just me. I figured he could get there before the police. He wasn't home but she came.

After calling her I called my mom. I was crying and could barely get the words out but she knew it was bad and she knew to come. Then I sat down on the couch, held my baby and we cried together.

That brings us to this morning.....

Me: Zacky, hurry up. We have to leave.

Zack: I got puppy.

Me: Good, now come downstairs please we have to go.

Zack: I'm coming Mommy.

Me: Sit on your bottom please.

Zack: Why?

Me: So you don't fall and bonk your noggin.

Zack: Why?

Me: Because that would hurt if you fell down.

(He is about four stairs down and he sticks his face through the railing and starts to talk... first quietly... then a bit louder)

Zack: Daddy throwed a glass of water.

Me: Yes, he did.

Zack: Daddy is at Grandma Julie's now.

Me: Yes, he is.

Zack: Daddy is at Grandma Julie's because he was bad at our house. He was bad at our house so he stays at Grandma Julie's.

Me: Yes baby. That is where he lives.

Zack: Daddy hit. He hit you in the face.

(I suppose to him, what happened in our kitchen probably did look exactly like Jake hit me in the face because if I wouldn't have ducked that's what would have happened.)

Me: No baby. Daddy didn't hit me. Mommy ducked.

Zack: And... and... and... then you yelled. Daddy was bad at our house. He lives with Grandma Julie.

Me: Yes, mommy yelled because that was not nice and we don't do those things.

Zack: NO!!


5 1/2 months later and my son can still tell you exactly what happened that day. No one has drilled him. No one has given him details or asked him questions. And until this morning it had been over a month since he had told me this story.

And it still breaks my heart just as much to hear it.

When people talk about victims of domestic violence they often refer to the women. Sometimes they forget the children. I said here that Jake will probably never get what he did to me. Never fully understand it. And I'm ok with that. I have to be to be able to live my life every day.

But what I'm not ok with, what I'm having a much harder time getting over is that he may never fully understand what he did to his son. That just seeing that point on our stairs brings back that memory to him.

He is 2 1/2 years old and he remembers.

And for that reason... I will never be silent again....

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Tuesday Talks

It is 6 am. As soon as my eyes open, my brain starts. This is ALWAYS how it has been for me but obviously I've never been with anyone who's brain works the same way.

M: Where are you going? Didn't you sleep at all?

Me: How are you functioning at this hour? Doesn't your brain ever sleep?

M: Nope

Me: It is exhausting dating someone who's brain works like mine.....

Discussing the skyscraper ride of DEATH at the fair:

My Dad: Sometimes you just have to live life. Just do it.

M: He's not really helping your cause is he?

Me: You exhaust me.

My Mom: Why? Because you are finally with someone who might actually win in an argument?

Me: Something like that.

The meeting of the parents went well. I'm not sure what I was expecting. It was just a couple of hours at the fair but a good first start.
My mom's words were he seems nice.
I guess that's all I can ask for. :-)

Friday, August 21, 2009

Friday Confessionals

I'm dating someone.

He's meeting my parents on Sunday.

At the Iowa State Fair (only in Iowa people....)


Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Tuesday Talks

Are you done?

No Mommy... **sigh** (possibly an eye roll)..... I'm waiting for my poopie to come out.


On the upside... Four days... no accidents. Dare I say we might be potty trained or will I be stricken down by a pile of wet undies when I go to pick him up tonight??


For curious J who asked me a dozen and one questions the answers are up Through the Looking Glass as well as a few new posts.

Monday, August 17, 2009

New Bedroom

The bedroom set and new bedding arrived on Friday and Saturday while I was at the State Fair:

Friday Confessional I didn't post: I have an unhealthy LOVE of the Iowa State Fair!!

The amazing Miss Jessica came over and rearranged my room so it looked all beautiful when I got there. The result, it doesn't even look like the same room.
I'm hoping that this will help me to be able to sleep better at some point. I think that point might have been last night if I had gotten to bed at a decent hour. (Story for another day.... LOL)
Thank you Miss Jessica!! I LOVE it!!!

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Thursday Thoughts

I haven't slept well in a week. I lay down, I close my eyes, I drift off but my brain... it NEVER shuts up. I have seen 2 AM so often this week it's not even funny. In fact this is getting damn ridiculous. Every night with the dreaming and the nightmares. Give it a rest already... really... isn't that what sleep is supposed to be?? Restful??

My new bed arrives on Friday and the wonderful Jessica has once again agreed to be my decorating extraordinaire. I'm hoping that with a new bed and a new look my room will once again become a place of rest and not a place of unrest.

So tell me dear Internets.... in your most admirable psycho babble.... do you think this will go away? Will I eventually sleep again? (Keep in mind if you tell me know I may have to hunt you down..... and I mean that in the nicest, most loving way possible... really.... :-)

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

WW: Sleeping Arrangements

February 16, 2007 - 1st time in Crib
December 22, 2007
April 29, 2009 (the Tent came off and the railing went down)
August 10, 2009
Lest you think I'm completely insane... the view from the hall way. :-)

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Tuesday Talks

There are lots of people on the road.

Yes there are.

Hey, I'm a people....


Now I can get out of my bed all on my own. Just like Hanah.....

(What have I done??)

Monday, August 10, 2009

My "tattoo"

Thank you all for the feedback on the tattoo situation. That decision has officially been tabled for a month or two whilst I mull it over some more. For right now I want to talk about a tattoo of a little different nature.

A tattoo, by design, is a permanent mark on one's self, a marking made by inserting ink into the layers of skin to change the pigment for decorative or other reasons.

I have tattoos. SEVERAL tattoos. But, my tattoos are not on my skin, they are in various places in my house. Something that has changed the makeup of my house, not for decorative but for other reasons. And I want them removed.

Let me explain. When you enter my house you will see my washer and dryer. A design flaw really, or more like a lack of design since my house was built in 1892. So there they sit. If you look at my dryer you will immediately notice that there is a large dent in the front of the dryer door. That is a "tattoo." A permanent marking made my Jake's head connecting with it in a fit of rage that I would like nothing more than to remove.

Those markings are in various places in my house. They are visible and not so visible. Take for instance my couch. When you look at my couch you probably just see a couch. Unless you try to sit on it, then you will see the world's most uncomfortable couch and if you don't sit carefully you will also see a wood beam connecting with your.... well you get the point....

Anyhow, when I look at that couch I see the "tattoos." There is a hole in the fabric from when he burned it. The bottom is torn out from where he stashed his pipes and beer bottles. The back fabric is ripped for the same purpose. I can still see him passed out on that couch. That couch and I we are not friends.

Today, I went to the furniture store and I ordered a new couch. I'm not really quite sure I should have spent the money but I'm also pretty sure I don't care. I am paying for tattoo removal and it is worth every single penny.

So is the new bed that I ordered on Saturday. You see Jake took the waterbed in the divorce. It used to be his parents waterbed so in the spirit of all things nice I offered it to him and he took it. At first I was a bit pissed about this. Not really because I wanted it but because I am sleeping in it and he is just going to put it into storage.

I considered going into the attic and trying to rescue my old waterbed, or asking my parents to take the one out of my old room. (I have slept on a waterbed every night since I was about 10 years old) Instead I decided perhaps it was time to make new memories. So off Zack and I went to the furniture store to look for a new bed.

At first after I bought it I was a little nervous. Then today when I bought the bedding and the couch I was a little more so. Should I really be spending the money. Do I need it. Then something hit me.

In seven years I have never, ever had anything new that is all mine. For seven years I have been so busy making sure he had his new bow and arrow, new shot gun, second new shot gun when he lost the first one, fixed the jeep, fixed it again, another new jeep (did I mention at one point we went through three jeeps in 4 months), etc. etc. that I have never taken the time to buy anything big for just me.

And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to cry and now, I am so excited you might find me dancing around my house. I couldn't be more excited if I was 10 years old and I just found out I was getting a pony for Christmas.

A new bed, new bedding, a new dresser delivered on Friday and a new couch delivered sometime in the next month. All steps towards making the horrible memories go away. All steps towards permanently removing those "tattoos."

Friday, August 7, 2009

Friday Confessionals

I have been more happy in the last 6 months than I have been in the last 6 years.

I have been more happy with myself and who I am and how my life is in the last two months than I can ever remember being since I was a kid.


When someone survives something like I did, sometimes there is a tattoo to commemorate the event.

I always wanted one but got a bad taste in my mouth for them during my relationship with Jake. Now that it is over, the idea of a tattoo is intriguing to me. However, the thought of getting one absolutely terrifies me.

So dear readers.... thoughts on tattoos......

For them, against them and what the hell would I get if I was getting one?

Discuss amongst yourselves......

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

You Are Only As Sick As the Secrets You Keep

This post is going to require a disclaimer. First of all, I apologize in advance for the length. There are a lot of things I have to get off of my chest. Also, this post, by it's very nature is ugly. There are no butterflies, roses or pink poodles. It's raw, it's real and it hurts. 99.9% of this raw emotion has been placed "Through the Looking Glass." .01% of it is now spilling over here.

This is deep. Read it when you have the time to feel it. If you are my mother, my father or another member of my family, you might want to skip it.

Finally, please do not leave me sunshine and roses comments about this. What I'm putting up here is raw and ugly. I'm aware of that and I'm reserving the right to spend one post raw and ugly. I can go back to being the pinnacle of positivity tomorrow.


Today my divorce was final. Today I close a chapter of my life that I wish I had closed years ago. Today I was set free in one way but have never really been freed in another. For those of you who have been following me elsewhere you know what I am referring to. For those of you here, let me fill you in on a few things.

When someone writes a blog, they tell a story. Whatever they want that story to be, is just what it is. If I want to tell you part of the story you will never know one way or another. All you know is what you see.

This blog is, for the most part, a happy place. Bright colors, fun stories, happy family.
My life, for the most part, was not this blog.

My life was dark and ugly and filled with negativity and fear. I was that woman you see on the lifetime movies who puts on the act for her family but lives her life in fear of her husband.

I was the woman who would do anything not to be alone. Put up with anything to be with this person I was "in love" with.

Until one day, several months ago, I just couldn't do it any more.

We have a slogan in Al-anon: You are only as sick as the secrets you keep and I can't keep these any more.

I found this video a couple weeks ago and I wanted to put it up here but I couldn't. It felt too dark, it felt like it needed explaining and I didn't think I could do that then. This singer is not well known in the US but this song speaks to me. This song is my life and I want to share it with you.

When I first heard this my heart stopped. My breath caught in my chest and all I could do was stare at the video as I watched it play. I was angry for the woman in the video and I was angry for myself.

You see that woman........ she was me.

The part of my world that I left out here is the part about me being a battered woman.

The part about me being so sick inside myself that three years ago I would have done just about anything so Jake would not leave. The part that I left off here was that I was just as sick as him. That despite what I wrote here my life was one never ending nightmare.

I remember the arguments. I remember being thrown down. I vividly remember being picked up and thrown across his parents kitchen. Being picked up and thrown across our front lawn. Being shoved down in an struggle over car keys and drug paraphernalia. Being attacked while I slept in order to get access to those same car keys.

I haven't slept in a month because I am haunted by visions of what happened. I remember being tackled to the ground while he told me that he would kill me before he would let me leave. I also remember staring down the barrel of a loaded shot gun and watching him pump it thinking he was going to make good on that threat.

I remember the phone call from the bank telling me that he had cashed a $700 check. I remember checking my bank balance on-line and seeing two more just like it and wondering what the hell I was going to do. (Not once, not twice, but I believe on three seperate occasions)

I remember covering for him. I remember borrowing from one credit card to pay the negative balance in the bank and the stolen checks from his dad so he wouldn't press charges. I remember borrowing money to pay off drug dealers. Meeting one guy in the parking lot of a gas station so he would stop calling and threatening to kill him.

I remember the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach every time he would peel out of the driveway and I remember even more the panic attack I had every time I would race down the stairs, out to my car and try to follow him. Chase him down. Make him stay where he clearly didn't want to be.

I remember screaming into the phone at his father the night he ripped me from my car and tried to run me over. I can vividly remember the look in his eyes when he ripped the keys from the ignition and I can see him hitting my car, pushing the unlock button while I sat in the drivers seat frantically pushing the lock button until he stuck the key in the door and then ripped me from the car.

I remember his dad trying to hug me and my legs giving out, standing there in the parking lot trying to figure out what the hell had happened to my life.

I remember trying to make it less than it was. Lying to the police, lying to my parents, lying to everyone. Just wanting it all to go away so he wouldn't leave. So I wouldn't be alone so my life could continue in this perfect little show I was putting on for everyone.

I remember being on my honey moon and going flying down a hill because he didn't get his way. I remember what it felt like to be on the other side of that door when he was pounding to ask me if I was ok. If I would just open up, if we could fix this... it was our honey moon after all.

I also remember being on the other side of that door when it was broken down. I am on my second bedroom door. The first one was kicked in. I am on my third bathroom door. In my head I can still see his fist coming through the bathroom door. It was like a scene from a horror movie only it wasn't a movie, it was my life.

I remember spending my entire pregnancy alone. Every belly picture, taken with a timer, every doctors appointment except two attended alone. All the planning, all the happiness I was supposed to have, gone.

I remember being 7 months pregnant on Thanksgiving day trudging through a field in the snow, climbing barbed wire fences all in an effort to find him and make him come just so no one would know what was going on.

I remember being alone in a hospital room with my son, only four hours old, not having any idea where my husband was and being angry that I had to stay there instead of being able to leave and chase him down. I remember lying to everyone, telling them he was out pushing snow, running errands, anything to never let them know the truth.

That I was alone.
Alone and scared.

I remember him being pulled from a hotel room with a prostitute on the night he was committed and me spending all of my time trying to justify to everyone that they were just doing drugs in the room. They didn't sleep together......... except for the part where they did.

I remember being head butted and back handed. I remember him spitting in my face, calling me names, and the pure hatred that spewed from his mouth during every argument we got into. He may not have been violent sober but his mouth did all of the hurting during the last two years.

I remember there were moments when I just wished he would lash out because I thought that it might hurt less to have him hit me than it did to hear him call me names and tell me how much he hated me.

I remember every little bit of this and so much more and as much as he or his family would like to pretend it didn't happen, it did. And it makes me angry. So angry that I want to kick and scream and yell. So angry that for so many years I was told to just act like it didn't happen. Everyone goes through this. He was just mad. He didn't mean to hurt you.

And I'm not just angry at him. I'm angry at myself. I'm SOO mad that I could have had a better life. That I didn't leave. That I let it happen, that I fed into it. I begged him to stay, I lied for him, I covered for him I kept myself in that hell for so many years and it makes me angry beyond all comprehension.

But you know what makes it worse?

Worse than all of it combined is the fact that he doesn't get it. That in his mind because he is sober now everything should be fine.

I should be over it.

And it took me until just last week to realize that's part of the reason why I was so angry. That's why I was furious with the world. Why I wasn't eating and wasn't sleeping. I was waiting on something I may never get. An acknowledgement from him that it was awful and that he did damage that doesn't repair it's self over night.

And if I was holding my breath for that I would be dead by now because I am NEVER going to get it. That's the place I finally got to.

A little late for all the things you didn't say
I'm not sad for you
But I'm sad for all the time I had to waste
'Cause I learned the truth
Your heart is in a place I no longer wanna be
I knew there'd come a day I'd set you free
'Cause I'm sick and tired
Of always being sick and tired

I have to forgive myself for what I did. Understand that I was just as sick as he was and move on with my life. That's the part that the backlash from Monday didn't fully grasp. You could never say anything to me that is worse than what I have already said to myself. I have been my own worst critic through all of this. Given myself the most anger and disgust. I went back during all of this and read this post from right after I had Jake committed and all I could think was why didn't you run then?

No amount of anonymous commenters coming here and yelling at me for blaming him or not leaving or being an idiot or "pathetic" will ever be more than the chatter that has been inside my head since the day this all started.

I can not put my life on hold waiting for an apology from a man who may never understand that I lived in a nightmare for 7 years.

Your love isn't fair
You live in a world where you didn't listen
And you didn't care

I can not put my life on hold waiting for my brain to stop processing what happened to me. I have to move forward, try to live my life one day at a time and hope that eventually all of this is just a distant memory.

To any of you who have been collateral damage in the last seven years I am exceedingly sorry. To Amy and Beth and Lindsay and Jess and my family and friends and all the anonymous people whom I have snapped at, or deleted, or who have felt unjust backlash I'm sorry.

There was a point in my life where my head was buried so far in the sand that I couldn't see what was going on around me. Didn't want to see it and I may have said some things that I now hugely regret.

I hope that now that all of this is out there it may help some of you to understand who I am and where I am coming from. Obviously there is a lot more that I haven't posted here. A lot more that I save for another place. But for now, this is it....

All the anger and the frustration rolled up into one giant blog post. My life, in all it's imperfect glory splayed out here for you to read.

I'm sick and tired
Of always being sick and tired

WW: The Class Clown

Tuesday, August 4, 2009


I'm sitting at my desk working away when it hits me. My breath catches in my chest and suddenly I am very warm. My chest hurts. So bad that for a moment I wonder if I'm having a heart attack.

I get up, go to the elevators, outside for air. I sit on the bench, it is warm outside, almost too warm to make me feel better.

I stare at the ants scurrying around on the ground. My eyesight goes fuzzy. Suddenly I realize I'm not breathing....

I get up. Walking, walking will make it feel better. We are now a good 10 minutes in and I still feel like my chest is about to explode. One walk around the block and I'm starting to feel a little better. I head back to my desk.

I begin to work again but the dull ache is still there. I take my pulse... 107... is that high? Low? I don't know. All I know is it hurts. It hurts to breathe and I can feel every beat my heart makes. 45 minutes and counting....

No rhyme...

No reason...

Welcome to my world....

Are you really sure you want in??

Tuesday Talks

I want to mow with my little mower mommy.


But I can't wear my flip flops.

You can't?

No, I have to wear my tennis shoes.

How come?

Because the mower is dangerous.


Mommy I need to go get my razor.

Your razor?

Yes, I need my new razor from Grandma's.

Which Grandma's?

Grandma Carol's house.

You have a razor at Grandma Carol's house?

Yes, I do.

(He is looking at his leg)

I need to shave. I have bumps....


Incidentally I called my mom and she has no idea what he was talking about but apparently somehow my son got it in his head that he needs to shave his legs.......

Saturday, August 1, 2009


Grandma can't ride the tractor.

She can't?

No... only me and Grandpa.

Why can't Grandma ride?

Because she can't!! (As in DUH mom...)


I ride tractors all the time.

You do?

Yeah. They are my favorite....


I ride a tractor with Grandpa tonight.

What if he's busy?

He's not.

What if he's not home?

He's NOT. busy. Mommy!!