When I first heard about Anissa, I wasn’t really familiar with her as a person. I knew she did some talks at Blogher, I’d seen some pictures of her, I’d “heard” her name mentioned in other blogs I read. I got invested when I’d heard she had a stroke. After reading the heartbreaking story, I used her story to inspire me to get very honest with Michael. Reading her story gave me the strength to put myself out there, to put my heart out there and have a very serious discussion with Michael. Without knowing it, Anissa and her husband Peter opened me up to possibilities. The possibility of having my family back – the possibility of having my best friend back.
Even though I don’t know her – she means a lot to me because of the strength I found while reading her story. I donated money to help her get some outpatient therapy. Anissa’s story is exactly why healthcare in the US needs to change. She needs outpatient therapy, roughly 40 days worth – however the co-pay for the facility is $100 per day. No caps. It will personally cost their family $4,000 to put her through much needed therapy. Of course, the other option for the family is to leave her as is, without a fully functioning right side of her body… Not a good option.
I donated and I’m encouraging everyone to donate to help Anissa and her family through this struggle.
Michael decided to sign the boys up for baseball this season. I’m fine with the boys playing sports, in fact, I encourage it. However, I really think you need to find out all the details before you make the leap. You need to find out how much it’s going to cost, when the games are, where you’ll be practicing… the list goes on.
It all started with the registration fee…
Michael assumed it would be around $40 to sign them up for the 3 month season. In fact, it was $125 per boy. He seemed shocked and appalled when I told him I wasn’t paying for half because I was not aware of the large amount of money needed for registration. He had his mom sign the boys up because of her address (I never got this either… don’t you play where you are supposed to play?) – so she walked in, plunked down the $250 and then advised Michael of the amount. Uh… sorry, but I’m not having any part of that at all. Please note, this amount does not include shoes, gloves (which Evan calls glubs), bats, balls, etc. Not once did he talk to me about the cost – he said he didn’t know – isn’t that something you find out beforehand?
Today is the first practice, it’s pouring outside. Raindrops as big as Evan’s head are falling down hard. He started trying to get them dressed at 8:30. Phinneas and Ferb was on, which is their favorite show, and neither boy was moving. The morning went something like this:
8:30 am – Mike says “come on boys, let’s get dressed.” He then jumps in the shower while leaving them parked in front of the tv. (DUH)
8:40 am – “come on boys, let’s get dressed.” He starts getting dressed.
8:50 – “boys, we’re leaving in 20 minutes, come on let’s get dressed.”
Much commotion ensues, Brody cannot find his penis shield (his words), he cannot find the “exercise shorts” that the cup fits into. Evan doesn’t want to get dressed by his own self, he demands that his father help him. Brody is running around naked looking for the shorts – still can’t find the cup. Finally figures out the shorts were put into the dirty laundry basket and dumps that on the floor. Finds the shorts and promptly complains they smell like pee. DEMANDS that I wash them (uh.. no) and I said there isn’t time, he’ll just have to wear normal underwear. MUCH CRYING ENSUES. Evan, miraculously, is dressed and ready to put on his cleats. Let’s remember that these are little boys playing baseball… it’s raining buckets outside – do we think we are practicing today? Is there really a need for cleats?
Brody is still naked and smoke is coming out of Michael’s ears. He is demanding that Brody wear regular underwear – Brody is refusing and is still having an absolute FIT.
9:10 am – Michael can’t find the keys to his truck. He’s lost them (a small poll, who is shocked?) The boys lost the spare set (his words… he let the boys play with the spare set, they lost them – it’s their fault, not his – the adult who thought it was okay for 2 kids to have the keys to his truck).
9:15 am – Brody is still not dressed, Michael has not been able to locate the keys to his truck. Melodie is watching this scenario and secretly giggling inside. She knows where her car keys are – including the spare set!
9:20 am – Brody is dressed! HUZZAH! Michael has not found his keys and begs to use my car. I give in, because of the boys. I help Brody put on his cleats (that he will wear inside the ferry building, which has concrete floors and will most likely be wet because of all the other little boys in their regular shoes)
9:24 am – The boys leave the house, hoping to get to the building by 9:30 to meet with the coach.
Ahh… I love it when a plan comes together. Meanwhile, Michael’s stress level is probably through the roof. The problem is, he could have had everything organized and ready to go – last night. But last night, he surfed the net and watched tv. WHICH IS SO TYPICAL!
I have to say, there are parts of him (and parts of our marriage) that I am going to miss. The unorganized mess that controls his life is not going to be missed at all.
We’ve reached an all time low point of stupidity in the business of this “divorce.” I was approached today about how we would be splitting the wooden spoons. And picture frames. And the dishes. It’s not that I care, these are merely things that can be replaced. What matters is the manner with which these items are brought up. I liken it to being surprised by a pie in the face. One moment, I’m moving laundry from room to room – the next moment, I’m discussing spoons.
As far as I’m concerned, all of the things can go. I don’t really care. However, I do care about how these discussions are handled and the way they affect me. On the recent trip back home, I had an epiphany (I’m having these a lot lately)… I was really angry with life in general. At every point, someone else was worried about Michael’s feelings – they were concerned for him. Yet, in my perception, there wasn’t a lot of verbal concern for me or my feelings. Then I realized that I was angry because I was still concerned about his feelings. I put his feelings above my own. That’s why I was angry; I couldn’t put my own feelings above him and was mad with RAGE because everyone else in our lives was concerned abou him. I put my feelings below everyone else. I think moms do this a lot. I have two children to raise, their feelings and needs come before mine. But my ex-husband? Who the fuck does he think he is? Who the fuck do I think he is?
He’s not been the best husband, but he’s not been the worst husband either. We just don’t work – we tried and tried… but could never get it right. He blames me for the breakdown of our marriage, I see it as two people failing. He wants to see me “pay” for mistakes… I want to move on. He can have the dishes, the glassware, the spoons; he just won’t have my regard for his feelings. I need to save that for me.
I am working from home today and work better with noise. I happened to turn on Brokeback Mountain on Bravo. Here is the text convo between me and Mikey…
Me: I’m watching Brokeback Mountain
Him: I just sent you a link via email
Me: My god, they are really kissing
Him: No more details please
Me: Are you sure, cuz I got more
Him: No, I’m good
Baa haa! It’s okay now, the boys on tv are fighting and punching each other. I wonder if he’d want those details?
Ordered flowers…. in advance of Valentine’s Day (he’s a part of the 36% of men who pre-plan Valentine’s day events). Paid for Guaranteed delivery by February 14th. He called me yesterday afternoon, really upset that I hadn’t called him to thank him for the flowers.
I didn’t receive any flowers. That’s when he got mad.
After doing some investigation he discovered this…
|02/14/2008||12:22 P.M.||THE PACKAGE WAS DAMAGED IN TRANSIT. UPS WILL NOTIFY THE SENDER WITH THE DETAILS|
I am not sure if the package was damaged or “damaged” and taken home to the driver’s wife. Regardless, I am getting new flowers delivered on Tuesday (a much better date for fresh flowers because I can enjoy them the entire week) and Michael is getting his money back! It’s a win-win situation!!
Along with swimming, s’more eating, dirt and a roaming dog – we ended up seeing quite a bit of “wildlife” while camping this past weekend. We saw turkeys, foxes, deer, birds, lizards and something brushed against one of the hippie’s legs while swimming.
Can you believe that we saw turkeys? Michael spent two weekends sitting against a tree during the last turkey hunting season and didn’t even see one turkey, nevermind a whole rafter! Gobble gobble all day, taunting him – practically laughing in his face. Here he was without a stitch of mossy oak camo, no gun in sight, no special “seating pad /back pack duo” covered in the special mossy oak camo pattern, no hand warmer or face cover (same mossy oak pattern), thigh high boots (don’t ask), or jacket in site. It wasn’t just 1 rafter of turkeys, there were two or three. Gobble gobble. Brody even mastered the gobble and encouraged them into our campsite. Don’t you love how I’m “up” on my turkey lingo?
Maybe next time, Michael should bring the palace and his four year old son when he goes turkey hunting. He might catch something! Who needs a stinking turkey call – I got a four year old right here! I have warned, though, that if he does “catch” something – he must not rely upon me to “prepare” it. Even though I was raised around farmers, I am not interested in plucking or cleaning said turkey. Besides, I get my turkeys frozen from the grocery store.
Me thinks word travels fast in the turkey community – they knew exactly where we would be.
I have to deal with a lot of crap at my job. We take complaints all the time from people who aren’t happy with the way they were treated. I have found lost items, I have rearranged conference rooms for demanding “professionals,” I have had prescriptions renewed without a visit to the doc, I have participated in fire drills, I have manned the hallways when a code was called. I have not been formally thanked for my participation in these activities, it is expected of me and is part of “other duties as assigned.”
I do these things (not always with a smile) because it’s what I get paid to do. I don’t love it here. I’d rather be at home reading a good book or knitting or even making dinner for my family. I have come to the conclusion that I work to live. As a girl who came from parents whose work defined them – this is a major step. I do not live to work. I tried that and I failed miserably. Not only did I fail – but my family failed (my boys need a lot of attention… all 3 of them). I’ve had to learn to keep work crap at work and home crap at home. Finally realizing that my job isn’t my life has completely changed my outlook.
I don’t like coming to work, but I happen to work with a great group of people. Like a second family.
I am jealous of Michael because he truly loves his job. He loves his customers and what he gets paid to do. He loves going in to the office and working overtime. I envy that. One day I will have a job that I love. A job that I feel a passion for.
Now, if only I could figure out which job it is.