I want him back! I don't care how unfair it is, I want him back!
Today would have been Donny's 52nd birthday. That's really young to be dead. I can't even say how much I miss him. Sometimes it's an actual physical ache in my chest. I thought that I was ready for this, I thought that I had prepared myself. I've never been more wrong in all my life.
I've been avoiding writing, mostly because I've been avoiding myself. I have 4 part-time jobs, 3 kids and a sick mom, and sometimes I feel like I'm not busy enough. If I fill my days with busyness then I don't have to face the emptiness. I miss him so much.
The kids are well. We have our ups and our downs. Last week the youngest one broke his arm. He was such a trooper about it too. He didn't cry when he broke it. His eyes got a little wet, but he didn't cry when he had to twist his arm into a weird position for the x-ray. He didn't cry when he had to sit in the waiting room for a couple of hours, with no pain medicine, waiting his turn. He didn't cry when they splinted it. In fact, the only time he did cry was when a baby in obvious distress came into the waiting room. What a softy.
My mom's in the hospital again. They now think that the reason that she keeps passing out is something to do with her adrenal gland. I guess I know what I need to be googling. The doctor said that she might get to come home on Friday. I sure hope so, I miss her.
That's all the news in my life. I feel a little bit better, having let off some steam, but I sure didn't wait long to focus my attention elsewhere did I? Oh well, it's a start.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Update
I just looked at my blog and realized how long it's been since I've written. So much has happened, and much of it is crap that I don't even want to think about.
I'll start off by saying that I've been kept on to work the off-season for block. Year round taxes, yeah.
Three weeks ago I came home from work to find that my sister and her fiancee had pitched at tent in the backyard, and were apparently going to be living with us. I was told that it was a one weeek trial. The idea was that at the end of the week my parents, my grandmother, and myself would discuss things, and if it wasn't working out that they would be asked to leave. That has yet to happen. Instead they seem to plan on being here until they find jobs and are able to get a place of their own, or at least that's my sister's plan.
Last Tuesday my mom told me that they'd be here for 2 more weeks. At that time her friend is supposed to giver her his tax refund to repay her for something. My mom said that my sister would be leaving when that money came through. The next day my sister was talking to me and casually mentioned how much of that money she would be asking my parents to hold on to for her to have money to move with when steady jobs are secured. She said that way mom and dad would know that she really is serious about leaving once they have jobs.
Of course, if they're going to move when they have jobs then they need to be serious about looking for work. But my sister believes that she can't get serious about finding a job until her fiancee finds a job, because it would hurt his feelings if she found work before him. And as for the fiancee, he seems to have given up on finding a job. He's mad that everybody is looking for somebody who's bilingual. He also doesn't appear to have any marketable job skills, but that may be just my view of things.
What makes all of this so bad though is the fact that I can't stand her fiancee. I'm tired of walking on eggshells around him so that I don't hurt his feeling on accident. And it doesn't take much. A good example would be today. I was really missing Donny. Mother's Day is hard for me, and he was always my rock during days like this. Mike could see that I was not doing well, and asked me what was wrong, to which I answered nothing. He got his feelings hurt that I didn't want to share with him what was going on. And today wasn't a one-off kind of thing, he gets his feelings hurt about everything. If we're not treating him like the king and telling him that he's wonderful, his feelings get hurt. And I'm tired of tiptoeing around him.
Although, it's not just Mike that I'm having a problem with. I don't like living with my sister. I love her dearly, but I can't handle living with her. A lot of the problem is me, I get that, but I still don't like living with her. The last time that we lived together as adults she steamrolled over me and took over my living space, because she didn't have enough room. (She had more room than me, but that didn't matter to her.) Infact, in most areas of our lives she steamrolled me. She's always been like that. Now I feel as if I have to constantly be on guard to keep it from happening again. I have to hold my boundaries very firm, never giving an inch, and constantly guarding them to keep them in place. That's because she's always been the type that if you give her an inch, she'll take a mile.
This has been really hard on me emotionally. These last three weeks have felt more like three months. I'm starting to fall apart at the seams. I have to solve this problem before I completely fall apart. I've thought a lot about this and the only solution that I can think of is to move. So I've started quietly looking for a job that pays enough to support myself. I know myself well enough to know that I would not do well with a roommate, so I'll have to earn enough to pay all the bills myself. I don't want to leave the home that I shared with Donny. My heart literally, physically, aches every time I think about it, but this may be my only solution.
Getting a job and getting the money to move on may take a while. And maybe in that time things will resolve themselves where my sister is concerned, but I can't sit back and wait for that to happen anymore. I have to be doing something to resolve this, and I can't find any other options.
I'll start off by saying that I've been kept on to work the off-season for block. Year round taxes, yeah.
Three weeks ago I came home from work to find that my sister and her fiancee had pitched at tent in the backyard, and were apparently going to be living with us. I was told that it was a one weeek trial. The idea was that at the end of the week my parents, my grandmother, and myself would discuss things, and if it wasn't working out that they would be asked to leave. That has yet to happen. Instead they seem to plan on being here until they find jobs and are able to get a place of their own, or at least that's my sister's plan.
Last Tuesday my mom told me that they'd be here for 2 more weeks. At that time her friend is supposed to giver her his tax refund to repay her for something. My mom said that my sister would be leaving when that money came through. The next day my sister was talking to me and casually mentioned how much of that money she would be asking my parents to hold on to for her to have money to move with when steady jobs are secured. She said that way mom and dad would know that she really is serious about leaving once they have jobs.
Of course, if they're going to move when they have jobs then they need to be serious about looking for work. But my sister believes that she can't get serious about finding a job until her fiancee finds a job, because it would hurt his feelings if she found work before him. And as for the fiancee, he seems to have given up on finding a job. He's mad that everybody is looking for somebody who's bilingual. He also doesn't appear to have any marketable job skills, but that may be just my view of things.
What makes all of this so bad though is the fact that I can't stand her fiancee. I'm tired of walking on eggshells around him so that I don't hurt his feeling on accident. And it doesn't take much. A good example would be today. I was really missing Donny. Mother's Day is hard for me, and he was always my rock during days like this. Mike could see that I was not doing well, and asked me what was wrong, to which I answered nothing. He got his feelings hurt that I didn't want to share with him what was going on. And today wasn't a one-off kind of thing, he gets his feelings hurt about everything. If we're not treating him like the king and telling him that he's wonderful, his feelings get hurt. And I'm tired of tiptoeing around him.
Although, it's not just Mike that I'm having a problem with. I don't like living with my sister. I love her dearly, but I can't handle living with her. A lot of the problem is me, I get that, but I still don't like living with her. The last time that we lived together as adults she steamrolled over me and took over my living space, because she didn't have enough room. (She had more room than me, but that didn't matter to her.) Infact, in most areas of our lives she steamrolled me. She's always been like that. Now I feel as if I have to constantly be on guard to keep it from happening again. I have to hold my boundaries very firm, never giving an inch, and constantly guarding them to keep them in place. That's because she's always been the type that if you give her an inch, she'll take a mile.
This has been really hard on me emotionally. These last three weeks have felt more like three months. I'm starting to fall apart at the seams. I have to solve this problem before I completely fall apart. I've thought a lot about this and the only solution that I can think of is to move. So I've started quietly looking for a job that pays enough to support myself. I know myself well enough to know that I would not do well with a roommate, so I'll have to earn enough to pay all the bills myself. I don't want to leave the home that I shared with Donny. My heart literally, physically, aches every time I think about it, but this may be my only solution.
Getting a job and getting the money to move on may take a while. And maybe in that time things will resolve themselves where my sister is concerned, but I can't sit back and wait for that to happen anymore. I have to be doing something to resolve this, and I can't find any other options.
Mother's Day
I survived another Mother's Day. Barely.
Today was a very hard day for me. A day where I get constant reminders about the fact that I'll never be a mom.
Last year on Mother's Day Donny held me and let me cry. He talked about the fact that we were still hoping and trying to conceive. He called his daughter and asked her to talk to me and try to make me feel better. He was there for me, and he helped me find that little, tiny ember of hope.
This year he wasn't there, and that ember is gone.
Today was a very hard day for me. A day where I get constant reminders about the fact that I'll never be a mom.
Last year on Mother's Day Donny held me and let me cry. He talked about the fact that we were still hoping and trying to conceive. He called his daughter and asked her to talk to me and try to make me feel better. He was there for me, and he helped me find that little, tiny ember of hope.
This year he wasn't there, and that ember is gone.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
OMG
I want to know who fed me stupid pills and where I can get the antidote.
Seriously, what the hell was I thinking in taking on 3 kids with so much emotional baggage? I can't catch my breath between problems.
In all honesty, the kids are great, and I love having them here. I'm enthusiastically greeted when I get home from work and I never lack for somebody to cuddle with. Noah, the 17 year old, has always been my boy, and still is. He's the one that you're most likely to find cuddled up on the couch with me. Kaylee, the 13 year old, has always been my princess, and knows it. She's the one you'll find giving me an angelic smile while she tries to convince me to give her special privileges. And then there's Micah, the 11 year old. He's the baby and has always been treated as such. He's the one that's likely to be in his room pouting about something. I seem to be very good at pissing the child off.
The kids have been her for 3 weeks now and I had really hoped to be settled in to a routine by now. The only routine that we have is going to the ER.
The day after the kids got here Kaylee's ears started hurting. By that evening she was sitting there, hands over her ears, moaning. She hurt so bad that she couldn't even cry. Because my sister, in all her infinite wisdom, failed to send us permission to get medical treatment, the ER was the only place willing to touch the child. So we spent many hours in the ER so that they could tell us that there was fluid behind both eardrums and in one ear it had gotten infected. After Kaylee had been triaged and we'd been sent back to the waiting room the doc in triage came out and started wandering around the ER. He finally came and let me know that he had ordered some numbing eardrops from the pharmacy, but that since that would take a while he was looking to see if anybody had some statshed somewhere on the unit. Eventually a nurse practitioner pulled Kaylee into the second triage room and examined her in there. We were given some prescritions and sent home.
The following day I developed a severe cold. After having to ask my parents to come rescue me at work because I was too dizzy to drive I broke down and went to the doctor. I spent $140 to be told that I was right, it was just a severe cold. I was dizzy because the tubes in my ears weren't draining right. I was then told to stay home for a week. And definitely no doing taxes until my head cleared. So my family took my car keys away and made me stay home.
It was probably a couple of days after I had been to the doctor that we made our second trip to ER. We had just put kids to bed and things were settling down for the night. Kaylee sat bolt upright in bed, grabbed her stomach and started sobbing because of the pain. She said that she was having severe pain in her lower right abdomen. Since my mom and I couldn't remember where the appendix is we decided to let a doctor tell us that she was fine. And that's exactly what happened. The doctor we saw that night thought that the pain was caused by constipation, brought on by the tylenol3 that she had been given for the earache. So she sent us home with a prescription for laxatives and a list of high fiber foods.
A few days later Kaylee was having no problems having a bowel movement, but the pain persisted. By this time we had noticed that it moved around some, but tended to be somewhere in the middle of her abdomen or on the right side. Whether it was high or low in the abdomen changed all the time. The pain is real, but we couldn't figure out a cause. It got so bad that we ended up taking her back to ER. They ran some more tests, but still couldnn't find anything. The only progress that we made was ruling stuff out. But my sister finally sent consent for medical treatment.
So we took Kaylee for a follow-up visit at a clinic here in town. The doctor still isn't positive what it is, but she at least believes us that Kaylee really is in pain. My mom and I think that it's stressed induced, and the doctor said that that's a very real possibility. They're doinf an ultrasound looking for ovarian cysts, but at this point it's a matter of ruling out everything else before diagnosing her with stress.
This last Sunday I was sitting in the garage visiting with Noah and he was playing around in my mom's wheelchair that we were storing in there. I'm not sure how it happened, but the wheelchair tipped over backwards. I couldn't get a response out of him for a couple minutes, and then he just groaned. I finally got him to tell me he was dizzy, but he still wouldn't roll over or open his eyes. It took a little bit, but we finally got him with it enough to get up in a chair. I used the wheelchair and got him out to the car, and then it was off to the hospital. They did a CT sccan of his head, and there was no major internal trauma. He was diagnosed with a concussion and sent home. From that trip I learned that you don't have to keep somebody awake after a head injury anymore.
On Tuesday Noah got up, tried to get ready for school, but just couldn't make it. My mom called and talked to the school nurse about what was going on, and was advised that he should see a doctor. The doctor examined him that afternoon and sent him back to ER. She thought that another CT scan needed to be done of his head, since he was getting worse. So as they're trying to explain everything in triage the nurse asked Noah how he got a concussion. When Noah told him the response he got was, "OH! I heard about you!" The guy hadn't even been working on Sunday. We ran into the same scene with the tech who took him for his CT scan. This time it was decided that he has post concussive syndrome and it'll take about 6 weeks for him to get better.
So tonight Noah was asleep when I went in to call him for dinner. I got him awake enough to know that it was dinner time and then I left the room. He came out a little while later and apologized to my mom for denting the speaker on her CD player. He hit it with his head when he fell out of bed.
I put his mattress on the floor and told him that he's to stay at floor level, it's safer that way.
Seriously, what the hell was I thinking in taking on 3 kids with so much emotional baggage? I can't catch my breath between problems.
In all honesty, the kids are great, and I love having them here. I'm enthusiastically greeted when I get home from work and I never lack for somebody to cuddle with. Noah, the 17 year old, has always been my boy, and still is. He's the one that you're most likely to find cuddled up on the couch with me. Kaylee, the 13 year old, has always been my princess, and knows it. She's the one you'll find giving me an angelic smile while she tries to convince me to give her special privileges. And then there's Micah, the 11 year old. He's the baby and has always been treated as such. He's the one that's likely to be in his room pouting about something. I seem to be very good at pissing the child off.
The kids have been her for 3 weeks now and I had really hoped to be settled in to a routine by now. The only routine that we have is going to the ER.
The day after the kids got here Kaylee's ears started hurting. By that evening she was sitting there, hands over her ears, moaning. She hurt so bad that she couldn't even cry. Because my sister, in all her infinite wisdom, failed to send us permission to get medical treatment, the ER was the only place willing to touch the child. So we spent many hours in the ER so that they could tell us that there was fluid behind both eardrums and in one ear it had gotten infected. After Kaylee had been triaged and we'd been sent back to the waiting room the doc in triage came out and started wandering around the ER. He finally came and let me know that he had ordered some numbing eardrops from the pharmacy, but that since that would take a while he was looking to see if anybody had some statshed somewhere on the unit. Eventually a nurse practitioner pulled Kaylee into the second triage room and examined her in there. We were given some prescritions and sent home.
The following day I developed a severe cold. After having to ask my parents to come rescue me at work because I was too dizzy to drive I broke down and went to the doctor. I spent $140 to be told that I was right, it was just a severe cold. I was dizzy because the tubes in my ears weren't draining right. I was then told to stay home for a week. And definitely no doing taxes until my head cleared. So my family took my car keys away and made me stay home.
It was probably a couple of days after I had been to the doctor that we made our second trip to ER. We had just put kids to bed and things were settling down for the night. Kaylee sat bolt upright in bed, grabbed her stomach and started sobbing because of the pain. She said that she was having severe pain in her lower right abdomen. Since my mom and I couldn't remember where the appendix is we decided to let a doctor tell us that she was fine. And that's exactly what happened. The doctor we saw that night thought that the pain was caused by constipation, brought on by the tylenol3 that she had been given for the earache. So she sent us home with a prescription for laxatives and a list of high fiber foods.
A few days later Kaylee was having no problems having a bowel movement, but the pain persisted. By this time we had noticed that it moved around some, but tended to be somewhere in the middle of her abdomen or on the right side. Whether it was high or low in the abdomen changed all the time. The pain is real, but we couldn't figure out a cause. It got so bad that we ended up taking her back to ER. They ran some more tests, but still couldnn't find anything. The only progress that we made was ruling stuff out. But my sister finally sent consent for medical treatment.
So we took Kaylee for a follow-up visit at a clinic here in town. The doctor still isn't positive what it is, but she at least believes us that Kaylee really is in pain. My mom and I think that it's stressed induced, and the doctor said that that's a very real possibility. They're doinf an ultrasound looking for ovarian cysts, but at this point it's a matter of ruling out everything else before diagnosing her with stress.
This last Sunday I was sitting in the garage visiting with Noah and he was playing around in my mom's wheelchair that we were storing in there. I'm not sure how it happened, but the wheelchair tipped over backwards. I couldn't get a response out of him for a couple minutes, and then he just groaned. I finally got him to tell me he was dizzy, but he still wouldn't roll over or open his eyes. It took a little bit, but we finally got him with it enough to get up in a chair. I used the wheelchair and got him out to the car, and then it was off to the hospital. They did a CT sccan of his head, and there was no major internal trauma. He was diagnosed with a concussion and sent home. From that trip I learned that you don't have to keep somebody awake after a head injury anymore.
On Tuesday Noah got up, tried to get ready for school, but just couldn't make it. My mom called and talked to the school nurse about what was going on, and was advised that he should see a doctor. The doctor examined him that afternoon and sent him back to ER. She thought that another CT scan needed to be done of his head, since he was getting worse. So as they're trying to explain everything in triage the nurse asked Noah how he got a concussion. When Noah told him the response he got was, "OH! I heard about you!" The guy hadn't even been working on Sunday. We ran into the same scene with the tech who took him for his CT scan. This time it was decided that he has post concussive syndrome and it'll take about 6 weeks for him to get better.
So tonight Noah was asleep when I went in to call him for dinner. I got him awake enough to know that it was dinner time and then I left the room. He came out a little while later and apologized to my mom for denting the speaker on her CD player. He hit it with his head when he fell out of bed.
I put his mattress on the floor and told him that he's to stay at floor level, it's safer that way.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Chili
Yesterday my parent's church had their annual chili cookoff fundraiser. Last year there had been about 5 or 6 entries and about 30 people had shown up for the chili dinner afterward. I won second place in the category of hottest and first place in the category of best tasting last year. I had a blast doing it too.
This year I decided to enter again, and I was discussing it with my mom. She pointed out that she'd be babysitting "Michael" that day. Since he enjoys cooking with me mom pointed out that I'd probably end up with help. Then my mom said that she thought it'd be cute for Michael to enter the cookoff. I loved the idea and ran with it.
I realized that if I helped with Michael's chili too much then it would taste too much like mine, so I had to figure out what to do. I sent my dad to the store to buy what he thought should go in a pot of chili. I got some stuff from my mom that she bought when she had been considering entering in the cookoff herself. And then I raided the cupboard for stuff that I thought might go in chili.
Thursday night I put some beans on to soak for the 2 pots of chili. Friday I cooked them off and put my chili together, since it needs to cook for a full day before it's done. I set Michael's beans aside for him.
On Saturday morning I set out everything that we had for Michael's chili, and then I put the boy to work. My dad had bought one of those big, horseshoe shaped sausages to use for this, so I gave it to Michael to cut up. He can only use a butter knife for now (I really need to go get a safety knife), but he's getting pretty good at it. I then sat Michael on the counter next to the stove and let him start putting stuff in his chili. He's getting pretty good at helping open cans, and his stirring skills are greatly improved.
When all was said and done Michael had a decent looking pot of chili. We took his and mine to the church and dropped them off for judging while we went shopping. We went back to the church for the dinner. When it came time for the awards I got some funny looks as to why I was dragging a 3 year old up for them, but it was worth it. Michael got third place in the category of best tasting. It was so much fun.
This year I decided to enter again, and I was discussing it with my mom. She pointed out that she'd be babysitting "Michael" that day. Since he enjoys cooking with me mom pointed out that I'd probably end up with help. Then my mom said that she thought it'd be cute for Michael to enter the cookoff. I loved the idea and ran with it.
I realized that if I helped with Michael's chili too much then it would taste too much like mine, so I had to figure out what to do. I sent my dad to the store to buy what he thought should go in a pot of chili. I got some stuff from my mom that she bought when she had been considering entering in the cookoff herself. And then I raided the cupboard for stuff that I thought might go in chili.
Thursday night I put some beans on to soak for the 2 pots of chili. Friday I cooked them off and put my chili together, since it needs to cook for a full day before it's done. I set Michael's beans aside for him.
On Saturday morning I set out everything that we had for Michael's chili, and then I put the boy to work. My dad had bought one of those big, horseshoe shaped sausages to use for this, so I gave it to Michael to cut up. He can only use a butter knife for now (I really need to go get a safety knife), but he's getting pretty good at it. I then sat Michael on the counter next to the stove and let him start putting stuff in his chili. He's getting pretty good at helping open cans, and his stirring skills are greatly improved.
When all was said and done Michael had a decent looking pot of chili. We took his and mine to the church and dropped them off for judging while we went shopping. We went back to the church for the dinner. When it came time for the awards I got some funny looks as to why I was dragging a 3 year old up for them, but it was worth it. Michael got third place in the category of best tasting. It was so much fun.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Changes
Okay, everything just got crazy here. We'll start with a little background.
I have one sister, she's older than me. She llives in Arkansas, and we haven't been able to see each other since my wedding. We keep in touch, but not a lot of contact. We've always been close, but she tends to fill her life with drama, and I just haven't been able to deal with it. There's no huge disagreement, just I don't need the run down on who's sleeping with who, or which boyfriend (since she kicked her husband out to move a boyfriend in to help pay the bills) is currently in residence.
I've known that my sister was facing a lot of hard times, but I haven't really realized just how bad they were. She has 3 kids and has been working her ass off trying to provide for them, but nothings really coming together for her. The kids are 17, 13, and 11 and they happen to be the closest I come to having kids of my own. I love them more than I could ever say. They've turned out fairly well so far, especially considering the home environment that they come from.
A few days ago the cops showed up at my sister's house because they'd had a report that my niece (the 13 year old) was being molested by one of the people that she babysits for. They needed to take her to the station to question her about this, and my sister went along. Why, I don't know, but my sister was tested for drugs while she was there. And she failed. She tested positive for marijuana and meth. She swears up and down that she only uses occasionally and my mom belives her. The only thing that I know for sure is that she's willingly taking part in a drug rehab program.
Apparently one of the boyfriends that my sister had living with her for a while is a known drug dealer that the cops have been hot to get for a while now. So they're trying to get my sister to give up her dealer(s). They told her to tell them everything she knows. She asked about what. They said just tell us everything you know or we'll take your kids away. Now, my sister has no problem giving up everybody if it will help her kids out, but she's afraid of causing more trouble for herself.
Also, on Sunday my sister was served with an eviction notice. She's been renting a house from my uncle, but there's been a lot of problems. I guess she's been without hot water for more than 6 months now. The eviction notice was her 30 day notice, but the letter that my uncle gave her said that all her stuff needs to be out by the 15th, since that's when he needs to move his stuff in. Also, as of the 15th he's changing the locks and her and the kids can only come and go on his schedule. So basically, she's got less than 2 weeks to find a new place and move.
The eviction notice, on top of everything else that's going on, is the final nail in her coffin. She's sure that she's going to lose the kids. So that's where I come in. A couple of hours ago I bought three one way tickets out here. The kids will be here next week on Wednesday. A final decision hasn't been reached, but it's looking like the kids will be signed over to me. I'm becoming a mom. Or something like that.
I live with my parents and my grandma, so I'll not be alone in caring for these kids. But I already feel a great responsibility for them. I know there's a chance that the responsibility won't be mine after all, but i can't help that I'm already gearing up for it mentally. And i can't stop the tape in the back of my head going, "HOLY CRAP!!!"
I have one sister, she's older than me. She llives in Arkansas, and we haven't been able to see each other since my wedding. We keep in touch, but not a lot of contact. We've always been close, but she tends to fill her life with drama, and I just haven't been able to deal with it. There's no huge disagreement, just I don't need the run down on who's sleeping with who, or which boyfriend (since she kicked her husband out to move a boyfriend in to help pay the bills) is currently in residence.
I've known that my sister was facing a lot of hard times, but I haven't really realized just how bad they were. She has 3 kids and has been working her ass off trying to provide for them, but nothings really coming together for her. The kids are 17, 13, and 11 and they happen to be the closest I come to having kids of my own. I love them more than I could ever say. They've turned out fairly well so far, especially considering the home environment that they come from.
A few days ago the cops showed up at my sister's house because they'd had a report that my niece (the 13 year old) was being molested by one of the people that she babysits for. They needed to take her to the station to question her about this, and my sister went along. Why, I don't know, but my sister was tested for drugs while she was there. And she failed. She tested positive for marijuana and meth. She swears up and down that she only uses occasionally and my mom belives her. The only thing that I know for sure is that she's willingly taking part in a drug rehab program.
Apparently one of the boyfriends that my sister had living with her for a while is a known drug dealer that the cops have been hot to get for a while now. So they're trying to get my sister to give up her dealer(s). They told her to tell them everything she knows. She asked about what. They said just tell us everything you know or we'll take your kids away. Now, my sister has no problem giving up everybody if it will help her kids out, but she's afraid of causing more trouble for herself.
Also, on Sunday my sister was served with an eviction notice. She's been renting a house from my uncle, but there's been a lot of problems. I guess she's been without hot water for more than 6 months now. The eviction notice was her 30 day notice, but the letter that my uncle gave her said that all her stuff needs to be out by the 15th, since that's when he needs to move his stuff in. Also, as of the 15th he's changing the locks and her and the kids can only come and go on his schedule. So basically, she's got less than 2 weeks to find a new place and move.
The eviction notice, on top of everything else that's going on, is the final nail in her coffin. She's sure that she's going to lose the kids. So that's where I come in. A couple of hours ago I bought three one way tickets out here. The kids will be here next week on Wednesday. A final decision hasn't been reached, but it's looking like the kids will be signed over to me. I'm becoming a mom. Or something like that.
I live with my parents and my grandma, so I'll not be alone in caring for these kids. But I already feel a great responsibility for them. I know there's a chance that the responsibility won't be mine after all, but i can't help that I'm already gearing up for it mentally. And i can't stop the tape in the back of my head going, "HOLY CRAP!!!"
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Selfishness
For just a few minutes I'm going to indulge my selfishness. I keep telliing everybody that I can't wish for Donny to come back because of the pain he was in. But damn it, I want him back! I miss him. And as long as wishes are being granted, I want him healthy.
By the time I met Donny he was already at the top of a very slippery slope healthwise. We didn't realize it then, but it was already the beginning of the end for him.
Donny was a painter for about 30 years. He loved painting. He loved to look at a house and see not what it already was, but what it could be. Repaints were his favorite. On new construction there usually wasn't much room for imagination, but when dealing directly with the homeowner there were tons of possibilities to be explored.
And if you wanted to know about colors, Donny was your man. He had a better eye for color than I did. Plus he could tell you what color would be murder to repaint when you got sick of it. He loved the whole process of painting, and was damn good at it.
One day Donny was painting the outside of a house that had that uneven brick finish around the bottom half of the walls. As he came running down a ladder he managed to slam his tailbone into a corner where some bricks were sticking out. It jarred his back and he was hurting so bad that he had to go home. When he was no better the next day he went to see a doctor. It was during the course of treatment for his back that he found out that he had degenerative disk disease in his back. A couple weeks later we met.
I can remeber when Donny was released to light duty at his old job, only to reinjure his back in less than a week's time. He never made it back to work.
We had been dating for a little while, and Donny was just starting to look into the possibilty of vocational rehabilitation when he fell and whacked his head one day. he hit the back of his head so hard that it gave him 2 black eyes. Shortly after the fall he started having what I later was told was absent seizures. Then as we were dealing with that we found out about his liver. (After that a doctor told us that Donny wasn't having seizures, but that his little "episodes" were caused by his ammonia levels.)
I never knew my husband at 100%, and I wish that I had. I've heard tons of stories about what he used to be like, but I don't have any actual memories from those times. I know that he loved to fish and hunt. And he played baseball. In fact, in his youth Donny pitched a fast ball that was clocked somewhere around 95 mph. I'm told that's rather impressive, but I know nothing about baseball other than the fact that I suck at it.
I want memories of my husband from when he was well. I want to be able to say that I saw him play ball at least once. i want to say that I ate a meal that he went out and killed for me. I want to know what it's like to go camping with him. But I'll never know these things, all because I met him a little too late.
I sit here crying and wishing him back, all because I want just a little more time with him. Maybe it's selfish of me to wish him back, but I do. I miss him so much.
By the time I met Donny he was already at the top of a very slippery slope healthwise. We didn't realize it then, but it was already the beginning of the end for him.
Donny was a painter for about 30 years. He loved painting. He loved to look at a house and see not what it already was, but what it could be. Repaints were his favorite. On new construction there usually wasn't much room for imagination, but when dealing directly with the homeowner there were tons of possibilities to be explored.
And if you wanted to know about colors, Donny was your man. He had a better eye for color than I did. Plus he could tell you what color would be murder to repaint when you got sick of it. He loved the whole process of painting, and was damn good at it.
One day Donny was painting the outside of a house that had that uneven brick finish around the bottom half of the walls. As he came running down a ladder he managed to slam his tailbone into a corner where some bricks were sticking out. It jarred his back and he was hurting so bad that he had to go home. When he was no better the next day he went to see a doctor. It was during the course of treatment for his back that he found out that he had degenerative disk disease in his back. A couple weeks later we met.
I can remeber when Donny was released to light duty at his old job, only to reinjure his back in less than a week's time. He never made it back to work.
We had been dating for a little while, and Donny was just starting to look into the possibilty of vocational rehabilitation when he fell and whacked his head one day. he hit the back of his head so hard that it gave him 2 black eyes. Shortly after the fall he started having what I later was told was absent seizures. Then as we were dealing with that we found out about his liver. (After that a doctor told us that Donny wasn't having seizures, but that his little "episodes" were caused by his ammonia levels.)
I never knew my husband at 100%, and I wish that I had. I've heard tons of stories about what he used to be like, but I don't have any actual memories from those times. I know that he loved to fish and hunt. And he played baseball. In fact, in his youth Donny pitched a fast ball that was clocked somewhere around 95 mph. I'm told that's rather impressive, but I know nothing about baseball other than the fact that I suck at it.
I want memories of my husband from when he was well. I want to be able to say that I saw him play ball at least once. i want to say that I ate a meal that he went out and killed for me. I want to know what it's like to go camping with him. But I'll never know these things, all because I met him a little too late.
I sit here crying and wishing him back, all because I want just a little more time with him. Maybe it's selfish of me to wish him back, but I do. I miss him so much.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Life
Death sucks.
I'm still having a hard time grieving for Donny. I don't know how to grieve. I don't know what it looks like. So instead I stay busy. If I stay busy enough for long enough maybe I'll get through the grieving process without realizing it. Somehow I think that won't work.
I'm working six days a week right now, and at least three of them are twelve or more hours each day. This week I have four twelve hour days. And that's scheduled hours. Quite often I'm staying an extra hour or so each day. It's been crazy, and so I'm exhausted. The good thing about a schedule like that is that I don't have time to notice the void in my life that Donny left behind.
Right after Donny passed away I would go out and sit in his chair and have a cigarette with him. It was very comforting to me, and it helped a lot. But one of the women that I work with decided that our office would go smokeless this year. She pestered me so much about it that I told her that I wouldn't buy any more cigarettes after the first of the year. And I haven't, yet. I haven't had one in about a month, but I want one so bad that I want to scream. I've gone through more gum in the last month than I normally would in a year. It doesn't help. I tried te patches, but the nicotene isn't my problem. Those cravings should be gone by now. It's an emotional thing, and I don't know what to do about it. I'm about ready to tell te woman that I work with what she can do with herself and go buy some damn cigarettes.
I'm about to begin rambling, and I'm exhausted. If you don't hear from me for a while, it's tax season. If you're looking for a tax preparer, or simply need questions answered, I'm checking my email all the time still.
I'm still having a hard time grieving for Donny. I don't know how to grieve. I don't know what it looks like. So instead I stay busy. If I stay busy enough for long enough maybe I'll get through the grieving process without realizing it. Somehow I think that won't work.
I'm working six days a week right now, and at least three of them are twelve or more hours each day. This week I have four twelve hour days. And that's scheduled hours. Quite often I'm staying an extra hour or so each day. It's been crazy, and so I'm exhausted. The good thing about a schedule like that is that I don't have time to notice the void in my life that Donny left behind.
Right after Donny passed away I would go out and sit in his chair and have a cigarette with him. It was very comforting to me, and it helped a lot. But one of the women that I work with decided that our office would go smokeless this year. She pestered me so much about it that I told her that I wouldn't buy any more cigarettes after the first of the year. And I haven't, yet. I haven't had one in about a month, but I want one so bad that I want to scream. I've gone through more gum in the last month than I normally would in a year. It doesn't help. I tried te patches, but the nicotene isn't my problem. Those cravings should be gone by now. It's an emotional thing, and I don't know what to do about it. I'm about ready to tell te woman that I work with what she can do with herself and go buy some damn cigarettes.
I'm about to begin rambling, and I'm exhausted. If you don't hear from me for a while, it's tax season. If you're looking for a tax preparer, or simply need questions answered, I'm checking my email all the time still.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The Letter F
Mielikki had this meme up and it looked like a fun challenge, so I asked to play.
Here's the scoop. If you like the meme, and want to play, leave me a comment. I will assign you a letter of the alphabet, and then you will, at your own free will, list ten things you like that begin with that letter.
I, somehow, got the letter F.
So, in no particular order, 10 things I like that begin with the letter F.
1. Free stuff. Seriously, who doesn't like free stuff?
2. French bread, especially when it's still warm. I prefer to just tear off a chunk and eat it plain if I can get it warm.
3. Fancy chocolates. I love chocolate of all kinds, but the little fancy ones are just so much fun.
4. Friendly people. I like to talk to people and hear their life stories. To me there's nothing better than meeting a really friendly stranger who'll sit down and tell you their life story. I've met some of the most interesting people that way. Then again, I've also met some real quacks.
5. Frozen yogurt. It's like icecream, but without the guilt.
6. Family. I love spending time with my family, they're very important to me. And once you're a part of my family there's no getting rid of me.
7. Facials. I've never gone to a spa and gotten a facial, but their the embodiment of girlie fun to me. My sister and I used to get all the home products and give each-other facials. They were also a common activity at sleep-overs in my teens. A night that included facials was always a fun night.
8. Fuzzy slippers. I collect them. Right now I'm wearing some that my doctor says look like tribbles. I absolutely adore big, fuzzy, strange slippers.
9. Funny movies. I love watching comedies, to the point that they're almost the only kind of movie that I watch. I love to laugh and comedies can make that happen. There's enough pain and sadness in the world, I don't need a movie to add to that. I want a movie to make me laugh.
10. Flying. I like to watch planes take off and land. I love to watch the clouds from above, so that they look like a soft carpet that would make a great place for a nap. I also like the excitement that comes with flying. Going new places and seeing new things, or visiting loved ones, or whatever, it's always exciting to fly somewhere.
Okay, that was harder than I thought it would be. The letter F? Really? Do you know how badly my mind blanked out on that one? Oh well. If you want to play, leave a comment and I'll assign you a letter.
Here's the scoop. If you like the meme, and want to play, leave me a comment. I will assign you a letter of the alphabet, and then you will, at your own free will, list ten things you like that begin with that letter.
I, somehow, got the letter F.
So, in no particular order, 10 things I like that begin with the letter F.
1. Free stuff. Seriously, who doesn't like free stuff?
2. French bread, especially when it's still warm. I prefer to just tear off a chunk and eat it plain if I can get it warm.
3. Fancy chocolates. I love chocolate of all kinds, but the little fancy ones are just so much fun.
4. Friendly people. I like to talk to people and hear their life stories. To me there's nothing better than meeting a really friendly stranger who'll sit down and tell you their life story. I've met some of the most interesting people that way. Then again, I've also met some real quacks.
5. Frozen yogurt. It's like icecream, but without the guilt.
6. Family. I love spending time with my family, they're very important to me. And once you're a part of my family there's no getting rid of me.
7. Facials. I've never gone to a spa and gotten a facial, but their the embodiment of girlie fun to me. My sister and I used to get all the home products and give each-other facials. They were also a common activity at sleep-overs in my teens. A night that included facials was always a fun night.
8. Fuzzy slippers. I collect them. Right now I'm wearing some that my doctor says look like tribbles. I absolutely adore big, fuzzy, strange slippers.
9. Funny movies. I love watching comedies, to the point that they're almost the only kind of movie that I watch. I love to laugh and comedies can make that happen. There's enough pain and sadness in the world, I don't need a movie to add to that. I want a movie to make me laugh.
10. Flying. I like to watch planes take off and land. I love to watch the clouds from above, so that they look like a soft carpet that would make a great place for a nap. I also like the excitement that comes with flying. Going new places and seeing new things, or visiting loved ones, or whatever, it's always exciting to fly somewhere.
Okay, that was harder than I thought it would be. The letter F? Really? Do you know how badly my mind blanked out on that one? Oh well. If you want to play, leave a comment and I'll assign you a letter.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Interview
Here's the directions:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the
questions).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview
someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask
them five questions.
1. You have taken on the brave, brave job of being a tax professional. What is the one piece of advice you offer to each and every one of your clients?
Because financial situations vary so much there isn't really one piece of advice that everyone needs. Although, if I had to pick one thing to tell everyone, it would either be "Don't be scared of the IRS." or "Save money for retirement."
2. Tell us a funny story about Donny, the funniest you can remember that makes you laugh every time you think about it.
This one was harder than I would have thought. Apparently I'm not good at coming up with stories on the spot. But there is one that I loved to give Donny a hard time about.
At one point in time Donny and I owned an old, beat-up work truck. The kind of truck where you're not surprised to see that the steering wheel is held together by duct tape. The kind of truck that you would have no problems taking it anywhere, because by the looks of it you can tell it's been to worse places than where you're headed. The kind of truck that you'll use for any job, because there's no way that you could be doing any worse to the truck than what's been done to it before. And her name was Betsy.
Donny was proud of Betsy, and wanted to be sure that we took good care of her. One of the things that he was fanatical about was checking her oil. Since before we owned her she had been leaking oil, so Donny made sure to check the level often. Donny and his best friend Robbie would go out and warm Betsy up, and then lovingly check her fluids. It was a holy rite of bonding to them. The problem was that I was actually trained by mechanics in how to properly maintain a vehicle, and I knew that the oil should never be checked warm. The engine needs to be either hot or cold, but not warm. If the engines warm you'll get a low reading. So the men would warm Betsy up, get a false low reading on her oil, and then add oil. I tried to tell them that they were doing it wrong, but what does a girl know?
There came the day that I realized that Betsy needed an oil change. I waited until I knew that Donny wouldn't feel like doing it, and then I mentioned it and offered to take betsy to the mechanic. Because of my superb timing, Donny allowed me to have the mechanic work on Betsy. When I went back to pick her up I had Donny with me. The mechanic came over and mentioned that they had added 6 quarts of oil and it still wasn't registering on the dipstick, so we may need a new dipstick. Donny never should have let me hear that.
It wasn't much after the oil change that the guys decide to go out and check my oil, since it's got that leak. I mentioned the problem with the dipstick and nicely suggested that maybe Betsy didn't really need any oil. They very nicely suggested that I didn't know what I was talking about and should let them get back to their "man work." A few weeks of the same scene being repeated and I was fed up. I finally told Donny that the only thing wrong with my truck was that he kept putting too much oil in her. I also let him know that the oil on the ground was not from a leak, but from Betsy trying valiantly to get ris of the excess oil that he kept giving her. Because of the tone that i took, Donny got rather upset with me. He saidthat he'd quit putting oil in Betsy, but that when I killed her in a couple of weeks trying to drive her with no oil that he had no way to fix or replace her, and it would be my problem. About 2 years later we traded Betsy in on the car that I have now, and I was still teasing Donny about the oil.
3. If you could live anywhere in the world, no financial limitations, where would you choose?
I thought about Arkansas, since my sister and her kids llive there. And I thought about Washington, since Donny's kids and grandkids live there. But I like where I am. And then it dawned on me, no financial limitations. So, I would buy lots of property here and build homes for all my loved ones.
4. Barbie or Skipper, and, why?
I was never into either one. By the time I was old enough to enjoy Barbies my sister had decided that she was too old for them, so naturally I decided that I was too old for them. I can remember my best friend wanting to play Barbie and getting frustrated because I thought that was for babies.
5. Did you have an imaginary friend as a child? If so, who was it? If not, what was your favorite plaything?
I never really had an imaginary friend, but I had an imaginary world. When we were little my dad used to tell my sister and I that "Only boring people get bored." I took that to heart and became one of the easiest kids to entertain of all time. I didn't need toys and playthings, I had my head. (Don't get me wrong, I still liked toys, I just didn't need them to entertain myself.)
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the
questions).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview
someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask
them five questions.
1. You have taken on the brave, brave job of being a tax professional. What is the one piece of advice you offer to each and every one of your clients?
Because financial situations vary so much there isn't really one piece of advice that everyone needs. Although, if I had to pick one thing to tell everyone, it would either be "Don't be scared of the IRS." or "Save money for retirement."
2. Tell us a funny story about Donny, the funniest you can remember that makes you laugh every time you think about it.
This one was harder than I would have thought. Apparently I'm not good at coming up with stories on the spot. But there is one that I loved to give Donny a hard time about.
At one point in time Donny and I owned an old, beat-up work truck. The kind of truck where you're not surprised to see that the steering wheel is held together by duct tape. The kind of truck that you would have no problems taking it anywhere, because by the looks of it you can tell it's been to worse places than where you're headed. The kind of truck that you'll use for any job, because there's no way that you could be doing any worse to the truck than what's been done to it before. And her name was Betsy.
Donny was proud of Betsy, and wanted to be sure that we took good care of her. One of the things that he was fanatical about was checking her oil. Since before we owned her she had been leaking oil, so Donny made sure to check the level often. Donny and his best friend Robbie would go out and warm Betsy up, and then lovingly check her fluids. It was a holy rite of bonding to them. The problem was that I was actually trained by mechanics in how to properly maintain a vehicle, and I knew that the oil should never be checked warm. The engine needs to be either hot or cold, but not warm. If the engines warm you'll get a low reading. So the men would warm Betsy up, get a false low reading on her oil, and then add oil. I tried to tell them that they were doing it wrong, but what does a girl know?
There came the day that I realized that Betsy needed an oil change. I waited until I knew that Donny wouldn't feel like doing it, and then I mentioned it and offered to take betsy to the mechanic. Because of my superb timing, Donny allowed me to have the mechanic work on Betsy. When I went back to pick her up I had Donny with me. The mechanic came over and mentioned that they had added 6 quarts of oil and it still wasn't registering on the dipstick, so we may need a new dipstick. Donny never should have let me hear that.
It wasn't much after the oil change that the guys decide to go out and check my oil, since it's got that leak. I mentioned the problem with the dipstick and nicely suggested that maybe Betsy didn't really need any oil. They very nicely suggested that I didn't know what I was talking about and should let them get back to their "man work." A few weeks of the same scene being repeated and I was fed up. I finally told Donny that the only thing wrong with my truck was that he kept putting too much oil in her. I also let him know that the oil on the ground was not from a leak, but from Betsy trying valiantly to get ris of the excess oil that he kept giving her. Because of the tone that i took, Donny got rather upset with me. He saidthat he'd quit putting oil in Betsy, but that when I killed her in a couple of weeks trying to drive her with no oil that he had no way to fix or replace her, and it would be my problem. About 2 years later we traded Betsy in on the car that I have now, and I was still teasing Donny about the oil.
3. If you could live anywhere in the world, no financial limitations, where would you choose?
I thought about Arkansas, since my sister and her kids llive there. And I thought about Washington, since Donny's kids and grandkids live there. But I like where I am. And then it dawned on me, no financial limitations. So, I would buy lots of property here and build homes for all my loved ones.
4. Barbie or Skipper, and, why?
I was never into either one. By the time I was old enough to enjoy Barbies my sister had decided that she was too old for them, so naturally I decided that I was too old for them. I can remember my best friend wanting to play Barbie and getting frustrated because I thought that was for babies.
5. Did you have an imaginary friend as a child? If so, who was it? If not, what was your favorite plaything?
I never really had an imaginary friend, but I had an imaginary world. When we were little my dad used to tell my sister and I that "Only boring people get bored." I took that to heart and became one of the easiest kids to entertain of all time. I didn't need toys and playthings, I had my head. (Don't get me wrong, I still liked toys, I just didn't need them to entertain myself.)
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Stop this world, I want off.
It's amazing how life goes on, no matter what. I miss Donny more than I ever thought that I would. I ache for one more hug, one more kiss. I long to tell him, just one more time, how much I love him, and hear him say the same to me. I wish that I could come home and discuss how work went that day, or vent about my frustrations. And yet I can't bring myself to wish that he'd come back. He was suffering so much at the end there that I can't bring myself to wish for his return. As much as I miss him, I'm happy that he's well again.
I got a letter from social security saying that they had accidentally paid Donny's disability benefits this month, and would I please return the money? Since I know that he's not entitled to any benefits now I have no problem with that concept. However, since they never sent any money, I do have a problem with "returning" it. While I was at the social security office, waiting to straighten out this mess, I ran into an old boss of mine. We got to talking, and I found out that the same day that Donny died his wife went into a coma. I don't really understand what happened,, but I guess it doesn't look good. She got a blood clot in her leg that traveled to her lungs and then her heart. Her name is Suzanne, and I'd appreciate it if people would be praying for her and the family. She has 2 kids who are probably 10 or 11 and 13 or 14.
I'm back to work, and loving it. I manage to stay busy most of the time now, which is nice. I've already had 3 different people come to me to get a jump start on their taxes. I'm hoping to stay very busy for a while now. I need the distraction. It amazes me to what extent I don't know what to do with myself. I've been taking care of Donny for so long now that it seems wrong to be able to make last minute plans. And when I'm home I'm at a loss about what to do. I end up wandering through the house and getting nothing accomplished. What am I supposed to do with the time that I used to spend with Donny?
Well, it's late, and I have to work tomorrow, so I should probably head to bed. Besides, I think I'm almost exhausted enough to actually go to sleep.
I got a letter from social security saying that they had accidentally paid Donny's disability benefits this month, and would I please return the money? Since I know that he's not entitled to any benefits now I have no problem with that concept. However, since they never sent any money, I do have a problem with "returning" it. While I was at the social security office, waiting to straighten out this mess, I ran into an old boss of mine. We got to talking, and I found out that the same day that Donny died his wife went into a coma. I don't really understand what happened,, but I guess it doesn't look good. She got a blood clot in her leg that traveled to her lungs and then her heart. Her name is Suzanne, and I'd appreciate it if people would be praying for her and the family. She has 2 kids who are probably 10 or 11 and 13 or 14.
I'm back to work, and loving it. I manage to stay busy most of the time now, which is nice. I've already had 3 different people come to me to get a jump start on their taxes. I'm hoping to stay very busy for a while now. I need the distraction. It amazes me to what extent I don't know what to do with myself. I've been taking care of Donny for so long now that it seems wrong to be able to make last minute plans. And when I'm home I'm at a loss about what to do. I end up wandering through the house and getting nothing accomplished. What am I supposed to do with the time that I used to spend with Donny?
Well, it's late, and I have to work tomorrow, so I should probably head to bed. Besides, I think I'm almost exhausted enough to actually go to sleep.
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