But it is fading away. And while I'm a bit sad about The End, I know that it is a good thing--for my kids, for me but probably not for Jack.
I've been seeing him since October last year. He was funny, intelligent, charming & made me feel safe. I also ignored all of the warning signs because after the hateful divorce and a chain of non-chalant fuck buddies, I just wanted to be loved.
He didn't have a job or a driver's license. He lived with his parents when we met but a few weeks later moved into a house with 4 other guys. One of the four had a job. The other three played MMORPG's every minute of the day. (yeah, those warning bells were SIRENS but I ignored them & convinced myself that he just had bad luck & he'd probably get a job--you know--eventually.)
Jack occupied my time when my kids were at their dad's for the weekend. I'd drive 45 minutes to pick him up, stay & talk with his roomates & then drive 45 minutes home. We'd watch movies that he'd brought on my laptop & snuggle in my twin bed.
It became comfort to have someone to solely be attached to. He held me. I can't tell you how desperate I was to be held & have a boyfriend. He commiserated with me over the injustice of my divorce, watched as I trembled in fear over the next threats & extortion from my ex, told me it was going to be OK when I was desolate over Christmas when my kids spent 9 days==5 blocks from me and NO CONTACT AT ALL. (I've never been away from my kids for more than 2 days). {My ex knows how to hurt me most of all--through my children.}
Jack was my substitute man in my life. He made me see silver lining in all things when I was ready to lose it.
My son ADORED him. Jack introduced him to Star Wars & told him tales of being in the military. They'd play with toys, transformers, cannons, guns, rockets & discuss all things 'boy'. I watched my son become attached & enjoy the company of the first decent man since my Dad had died. Jack became the substitute man in my son's life.
My daughter enjoyed his company, they talked of music & crazy teen stunts he'd pulled. He made her laugh & for a while--she really did like him. But 15 is fickle and it later changed; especially after he moved in.
He'd been staying at my house 2 or 3 days a week. He always had to hurry & get back because of his video game since my laptop couldn't handle it. I introduced him to my friend & her husband. We would go to their house--I'd chat with my friend & Jack would play games with her husband. They would share their smoke & occasionally I'd buy a small amount from them or trade them something they wanted. (The couple has 6 kids--some hers, some his & I had a LOT of kids playground toys my kids had outgrown.)
In the meantime, his roommates were being evicted for non-payment of rent. Go figure.
Jack wanted to bring his monster computer up here to show his new buddy. And before you know it, 3 days turned into 5 and then 9--he had a few clothes here, his monster computer & an internet connection. He just stayed. We never talked about living together, never even mentioned it. It just happened.
To be continued...
Friday, July 31, 2009
"I don't remember..
it was like 15 minutes ago"
The 15-yr-old daughter just came into my room to show me her 2nd degree burn on her chest. She was straightening her hair with her flat-iron & has two long marks near her clavicle.
me: Damn girl, did you drop it?
her: I don't know.
me: Were you resting it on your chest while waiting for your hair to straighten or what?
her: GOD MOM, It was like 15 minutes ago. I don't remember. What's with the THIRD DEGREE?
and stomps out of here like I asked her to drive a staple thru her eyebrow. Ok, not such a good metaphor-she WANTS a staple thru her eyebrow. Like I asked her to pick up her socks?
me-hollering after her: Did you get the pun?
her: What the hell are you talking about?
me-You said third degree while we were talking about burns. It's like IRONY or something.
her: mumbling under her breath --I think she said "I have the funnest mom ever" or maybe it was the "dumbest?"
ha. i love teenagers.
The 15-yr-old daughter just came into my room to show me her 2nd degree burn on her chest. She was straightening her hair with her flat-iron & has two long marks near her clavicle.
me: Damn girl, did you drop it?
her: I don't know.
me: Were you resting it on your chest while waiting for your hair to straighten or what?
her: GOD MOM, It was like 15 minutes ago. I don't remember. What's with the THIRD DEGREE?
and stomps out of here like I asked her to drive a staple thru her eyebrow. Ok, not such a good metaphor-she WANTS a staple thru her eyebrow. Like I asked her to pick up her socks?
me-hollering after her: Did you get the pun?
her: What the hell are you talking about?
me-You said third degree while we were talking about burns. It's like IRONY or something.
her: mumbling under her breath --I think she said "I have the funnest mom ever" or maybe it was the "dumbest?"
ha. i love teenagers.
The untimely demise
of my dryer has caused endless frustration this summer. It takes FOUR cycles @ 45 minutes each to get anything close enough to being dry. Yep, I'm wasting electricity and money. The tub spins, the heat works--so I don't think it's the heating element. I'm wondering if there is a fan of some sort inside a dryer?
I do hang things outside to dry & put t-shirts on hangers...but our undies just can't go outside. (spiders--which don't bother me unless it's in correlation to my knickers)
I've shrunk the girl's jeans enough that she thought she was gaining weight. I don't like line-dried towels because it makes them stiff as sandpaper--but it's great for exfoliating.
My mom is on a mission to find me a used one at a rummage sale. Last month she bought me a dishwasher for two bucks. It's sitting in the garage still--I don't know anyone who has half a clue how to install one. I have a fear of working with electricity--if I leave my children motherless--they will have to live with their father. And I have to prevent that at all costs, he ...well...long story. I just have to outlive him.
I do hang things outside to dry & put t-shirts on hangers...but our undies just can't go outside. (spiders--which don't bother me unless it's in correlation to my knickers)
I've shrunk the girl's jeans enough that she thought she was gaining weight. I don't like line-dried towels because it makes them stiff as sandpaper--but it's great for exfoliating.
My mom is on a mission to find me a used one at a rummage sale. Last month she bought me a dishwasher for two bucks. It's sitting in the garage still--I don't know anyone who has half a clue how to install one. I have a fear of working with electricity--if I leave my children motherless--they will have to live with their father. And I have to prevent that at all costs, he ...well...long story. I just have to outlive him.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
But Mom...
This summer, I've been trying to expose my kids to movies that I thought were awesome over the last 20 yrs or so. We've watched The Blues Brothers, Ferris Bueller, Breakfast Club, Mallrats & a handful of others I considered "must-see" movies.
Last week we rented Tomb Raider from the public library. I don't listen to all the Hollywood hoopla about celebrities--I really just.don't.give.a.damn. But I do appreciate gorgeous women, whether they can act or not. I don't care if they have affairs or drug problems or adopt a dozen kids. (it's great that they adopt kids though) Anyway--
While walking through the living room, my son enraptured with all of the violence & cool gadgets, I see Angelina's giant pouty lips & fantastic body and I say "Good lord, I'd date her."
And my son looks at me with horror in his eyes & says...
But Mom, you are A Straight.
and Jack pops up from the other room "Shows what you know," while I giggle and walk away.
Last week we rented Tomb Raider from the public library. I don't listen to all the Hollywood hoopla about celebrities--I really just.don't.give.a.damn. But I do appreciate gorgeous women, whether they can act or not. I don't care if they have affairs or drug problems or adopt a dozen kids. (it's great that they adopt kids though) Anyway--
While walking through the living room, my son enraptured with all of the violence & cool gadgets, I see Angelina's giant pouty lips & fantastic body and I say "Good lord, I'd date her."
And my son looks at me with horror in his eyes & says...
But Mom, you are A Straight.
and Jack pops up from the other room "Shows what you know," while I giggle and walk away.
My upcoming appointments
I've been fighting, applying & appealing with Social Security disability for almost 3 years now. In the next two weeks, I have a mental evaluation and another physical exam through their doctors. This will be my third time. Yippee.
The last two times--"THEIR" doctors agreed that I am not capable of holding a normal job, not able to lift 5 pounds, sit in a chair for 10 minutes or whatever. But somehow, the people-in-charge have still found a loophole where I am not qualified to be on the receiving end of monetary support.
My rheumatologist, pain mgmt specialist & my family dr.'s have written pages upon pages of how screwed up my body is...how my quality of life is affected down to the words "she will never get better."
Those words stung like a swift backhand. Even though I've known it all along, to actually see it in print--it hurt.
I want to work. I need to work. I want a job, even if it is just a part-time mind-numbing two-days-a-week gig. I want to be able to go buy a pack of socks for my son without wondering if that seven bucks will cause me to drive on fumes for three days until the next child support check comes in. I want to be able to hand my teen twenty bucks when she has a field trip for school.
I'm so aggravated with 'the system'. Since the divorce, I've had to rely on food stamps, state health care, food pantries & begging for my utilities to be paid through the trustee's office. My pride is long gone, my body is shot & I just want the freedom of being able to support my kids.
I've stood in lines with meth addicts, drunks & plain-as-day lazy fuckers. I am ever-so-grateful for the help I do get, but it is downright disheartening to watch people abuse the system and make it impossible for others who truly need help--not get it.
And for the record, I've been told "but you don't LOOK sick" more than a hundred times. I started responding "really? you don't LOOK stupid" and people just get all shitty with me. :D
I'm tempted to go to my psych eval and act bat-shit crazy. Ok, so it wouldn't be that much of a stretch some days...but I'm tired of the battle. Crazy is easier to prove than my stack of MRI's showing my deformed spine.
The last two times--"THEIR" doctors agreed that I am not capable of holding a normal job, not able to lift 5 pounds, sit in a chair for 10 minutes or whatever. But somehow, the people-in-charge have still found a loophole where I am not qualified to be on the receiving end of monetary support.
My rheumatologist, pain mgmt specialist & my family dr.'s have written pages upon pages of how screwed up my body is...how my quality of life is affected down to the words "she will never get better."
Those words stung like a swift backhand. Even though I've known it all along, to actually see it in print--it hurt.
I want to work. I need to work. I want a job, even if it is just a part-time mind-numbing two-days-a-week gig. I want to be able to go buy a pack of socks for my son without wondering if that seven bucks will cause me to drive on fumes for three days until the next child support check comes in. I want to be able to hand my teen twenty bucks when she has a field trip for school.
I'm so aggravated with 'the system'. Since the divorce, I've had to rely on food stamps, state health care, food pantries & begging for my utilities to be paid through the trustee's office. My pride is long gone, my body is shot & I just want the freedom of being able to support my kids.
I've stood in lines with meth addicts, drunks & plain-as-day lazy fuckers. I am ever-so-grateful for the help I do get, but it is downright disheartening to watch people abuse the system and make it impossible for others who truly need help--not get it.
And for the record, I've been told "but you don't LOOK sick" more than a hundred times. I started responding "really? you don't LOOK stupid" and people just get all shitty with me. :D
I'm tempted to go to my psych eval and act bat-shit crazy. Ok, so it wouldn't be that much of a stretch some days...but I'm tired of the battle. Crazy is easier to prove than my stack of MRI's showing my deformed spine.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Things I've not yet revealed...
I am addicted to reading sexy, erotica & bdsm blogs. I follow about 6 daily and have a huge list I check in with when I have spare time.
I have learned SO very much & am totally enthralled to read their daily life stories or their wild play parties. These people (mostly women) have so much beauty and exuberance to share. I've laughed & cried with them, shared their stories with my friends & family & commented on their blogs to support them. I hope I can be as engaging as they are in this new venture of mine.
I also Twitter with many of them & even won a contest from a beautiful blogger. My very first glass dildo--it's art! I take it out of the padded pouch from time to time just to see how it looks in the light. It's from DonWands & it's the Candy Cane. I'm tempted to use it as a decoration in the window at Christmas time--it's just that pretty! And it works quite well too *wink*.
But hopefully, another goal of me starting this blog is to start reviewing products for adult 'toy' companies. I'm sure Jack won't have a problem with helping me test the products. He was shocked when we met that I only had 2 toys of my own. I've upped my collection a bit since then & now I drool over what my sexy blogger friends are testing out. It sounds like a great gig, gotta get motivated & go apply.
I guess my biggest fear with blogging is...my life is just not that exciting.
I'm a broke, disabled, stay-at-home mom who can't pay my bills most of the time. My kids are my life & they drive me crazy. My mom gets me into funny predicaments...& I spend way too much time on the internet. I battle with anxiety, depression, fibromyalgia, 7 or 8 herniated disks in my spine, degenerative disk disease & a handful of other fun broke-ity spinal disorders. I walk with a homemade cane & just try to make it through a day, being a decent mom. Sometimes I feel that I'm failing at that.
Anyway, I'm off to Twitter & read more & maybe check my email for the 100th time.
I've not talked to Jack but for 2 sentences today & I'm freakin' out, hoping he got some job leads. He's only got another week & a half to find a job & then he'll be homeless. I'm trying to not feel responsible for that--he IS almost 40. But I have this thing for taking in stray cats, stray people & feeding the homeless. Cuz I'm a sucker like that. He lived here for 6 months & had to move out before my mom popped an artery. (She's helping me out a lot & wasn't thrilled with him living here...without a job or an ambition other than playing MMORPG's) Yeah, I can't blame her--but it just kind of happened & here we were.
Ooops, gotta tuck in my 10 yr old son first. He has to have his blankets 'just-so' and I still have to kiss his favorite stuffed animal after his hugs & kisses. He's not going to let me do this much longer, so I'm hanging on to every bit of snuggles I can get.
I have learned SO very much & am totally enthralled to read their daily life stories or their wild play parties. These people (mostly women) have so much beauty and exuberance to share. I've laughed & cried with them, shared their stories with my friends & family & commented on their blogs to support them. I hope I can be as engaging as they are in this new venture of mine.
I also Twitter with many of them & even won a contest from a beautiful blogger. My very first glass dildo--it's art! I take it out of the padded pouch from time to time just to see how it looks in the light. It's from DonWands & it's the Candy Cane. I'm tempted to use it as a decoration in the window at Christmas time--it's just that pretty! And it works quite well too *wink*.
But hopefully, another goal of me starting this blog is to start reviewing products for adult 'toy' companies. I'm sure Jack won't have a problem with helping me test the products. He was shocked when we met that I only had 2 toys of my own. I've upped my collection a bit since then & now I drool over what my sexy blogger friends are testing out. It sounds like a great gig, gotta get motivated & go apply.
I guess my biggest fear with blogging is...my life is just not that exciting.
I'm a broke, disabled, stay-at-home mom who can't pay my bills most of the time. My kids are my life & they drive me crazy. My mom gets me into funny predicaments...& I spend way too much time on the internet. I battle with anxiety, depression, fibromyalgia, 7 or 8 herniated disks in my spine, degenerative disk disease & a handful of other fun broke-ity spinal disorders. I walk with a homemade cane & just try to make it through a day, being a decent mom. Sometimes I feel that I'm failing at that.
Anyway, I'm off to Twitter & read more & maybe check my email for the 100th time.
I've not talked to Jack but for 2 sentences today & I'm freakin' out, hoping he got some job leads. He's only got another week & a half to find a job & then he'll be homeless. I'm trying to not feel responsible for that--he IS almost 40. But I have this thing for taking in stray cats, stray people & feeding the homeless. Cuz I'm a sucker like that. He lived here for 6 months & had to move out before my mom popped an artery. (She's helping me out a lot & wasn't thrilled with him living here...without a job or an ambition other than playing MMORPG's) Yeah, I can't blame her--but it just kind of happened & here we were.
Ooops, gotta tuck in my 10 yr old son first. He has to have his blankets 'just-so' and I still have to kiss his favorite stuffed animal after his hugs & kisses. He's not going to let me do this much longer, so I'm hanging on to every bit of snuggles I can get.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Why, yes, I AM an idiot.
So I've been contemplating starting a blog for several months now. I'm totally addicted to reading so many that I can't keep up with all of them. All I needed was a 'name', something cute or eye-catching or clever. This afternoon, I thought I *finally* figured it out...I like booze. I love blues music. and I have a faded daisy tattoo circa 1990. So I put it all together, mixed it up & write up my first post. Ouila! Clever with ontomontapoeia. (i know, it's prolly misspelled, bite me. hell it's most likely the wrong term too, but whatEvah!) .
Three hours later, I did a google search of these words & guess WHAT!?!?! Of course, it was a brilliant name--Booze, Blues N Tattoos was a title to an AC/DC album back in 2002. So I'm probably going to get sued for copyright infringement or something. Dammitalltohell & here I thought I came up with something clever. Well, it was in my mind anyway.
I do so need to keep up on the times, but the news is depressing & subscribing to a newspaper is beyond my financial means right now...& it clutters up my house like you wouldn't believe. I've not had cable/dish tv in going on 4 years now. I prefer my cave rather than enlightenment with what the rest of the world is doing. Other people usually suck anyway. And blow up stuff.
So, I'm sorry AC/DC, I totally wasn't intentionally trying to rip off your brilliant idea. I thought it was my own. Take it as flattery though--I've loved your music since I was a wee teen. My girlfriend & I wore out three of your cassette tapes one summer while we cruised our little town looking for boys & weed. We never had much luck, but damn, we were jamming in her electric orange Ford Escort. Highway to Hell was our theme song back thing, we thought we were so 'bad ass'. lol.
Three hours later, I did a google search of these words & guess WHAT!?!?! Of course, it was a brilliant name--Booze, Blues N Tattoos was a title to an AC/DC album back in 2002. So I'm probably going to get sued for copyright infringement or something. Dammitalltohell & here I thought I came up with something clever. Well, it was in my mind anyway.
I do so need to keep up on the times, but the news is depressing & subscribing to a newspaper is beyond my financial means right now...& it clutters up my house like you wouldn't believe. I've not had cable/dish tv in going on 4 years now. I prefer my cave rather than enlightenment with what the rest of the world is doing. Other people usually suck anyway. And blow up stuff.
So, I'm sorry AC/DC, I totally wasn't intentionally trying to rip off your brilliant idea. I thought it was my own. Take it as flattery though--I've loved your music since I was a wee teen. My girlfriend & I wore out three of your cassette tapes one summer while we cruised our little town looking for boys & weed. We never had much luck, but damn, we were jamming in her electric orange Ford Escort. Highway to Hell was our theme song back thing, we thought we were so 'bad ass'. lol.
This should be the theme song to my life...
Bob Dylan wrote & sang it, but I prefer the Kenny Wayne Shepard (Sheppard?) version at the moment.
Life is always throwing me curve balls, I've been in worse places physically & emotionally but right *now* I feel that if someone were to touch me that I would shatter into a thousand pieces.
I just msg'ed my love a few minutes ago: "I has a big sad." And I loathe baby talk or text speak, but it's morphing into even business vernacular. Can't beat 'em, join 'em.
So I'm going to dry my eyes, stop the sniffling, pop another anxiety tic-tac under my tongue & go avoid thinking too much about how I miss my honey. Last night was the first night in 6 months I didn't get to lay in 'my spot' on his shoulder- snuggled up next to him, my hand on his chest- feeling his heart beat against my palm.
Long story short-he had to move an hour away because I was being threatened to lose my house. A couple other issues factored into that as well, but that's the short version. And it sucks.
"Everything is broken"
Broken lines broken strings
Broken threads broken springs
Broken idols broken heads
People sleeping in broken beds
Ain't no use jiving
Ain't no use joking
Everything is broken.
Broken bottles broken plates
Broken switches broken gates
Broken dishes broken parts
Streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken.
Seem like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground
Broken cutters broken saws Broken buckles broken laws
Broken bodies broken bones Broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath feel like you're chokin'
Everything is broken.
Everytime you leave and go off someplace
Things fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken ploughs
Broken treaties broken vows
Broken pipes broken tools
People bending broken rules
Hound dog howling bullfrog croaking
Everything is broken.
By the way--Hi, I'm Lorelei. I've not written complete sentences in ages, so bear with me as I learn to blog & try to remember what proper grammar usage is. Run-on sentences are typical for me, it's just how my brain works.
I'm a 38 year old divorced mom of a 15 yr old girl & a 10 yr old boy, in love with my boyfriend Jack of 9 months & spend entirely too much time on the internet. I walk with a cane because my back is fucked up & a slew of other issues as well. I'll tell you more about all that junk later.
That's all I've got today.
I has a big sad.
Life is always throwing me curve balls, I've been in worse places physically & emotionally but right *now* I feel that if someone were to touch me that I would shatter into a thousand pieces.
I just msg'ed my love a few minutes ago: "I has a big sad." And I loathe baby talk or text speak, but it's morphing into even business vernacular. Can't beat 'em, join 'em.
So I'm going to dry my eyes, stop the sniffling, pop another anxiety tic-tac under my tongue & go avoid thinking too much about how I miss my honey. Last night was the first night in 6 months I didn't get to lay in 'my spot' on his shoulder- snuggled up next to him, my hand on his chest- feeling his heart beat against my palm.
Long story short-he had to move an hour away because I was being threatened to lose my house. A couple other issues factored into that as well, but that's the short version. And it sucks.
"Everything is broken"
Broken lines broken strings
Broken threads broken springs
Broken idols broken heads
People sleeping in broken beds
Ain't no use jiving
Ain't no use joking
Everything is broken.
Broken bottles broken plates
Broken switches broken gates
Broken dishes broken parts
Streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken.
Seem like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground
Broken cutters broken saws Broken buckles broken laws
Broken bodies broken bones Broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath feel like you're chokin'
Everything is broken.
Everytime you leave and go off someplace
Things fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken ploughs
Broken treaties broken vows
Broken pipes broken tools
People bending broken rules
Hound dog howling bullfrog croaking
Everything is broken.
By the way--Hi, I'm Lorelei. I've not written complete sentences in ages, so bear with me as I learn to blog & try to remember what proper grammar usage is. Run-on sentences are typical for me, it's just how my brain works.
I'm a 38 year old divorced mom of a 15 yr old girl & a 10 yr old boy, in love with my boyfriend Jack of 9 months & spend entirely too much time on the internet. I walk with a cane because my back is fucked up & a slew of other issues as well. I'll tell you more about all that junk later.
That's all I've got today.
I has a big sad.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
