My Date

I had a date today!

Okay, my date happened to be my 9 year old Bug, but I got your attention, right? My personal life is non existent, don't judge me.

Anyway, Bug and I went to get my paycheck, and then we decided we had a need for ice cream. I like to try to take advantage of one on one time with my kids as they arise, as the mom of five children. Bug is always fun though. He is my youngest, my baby, and he is the last remaining child that has complete confidence in me. He is amazing, that kid. Once he is away from the normal craziness of our house, he loses a lot of the immaturity that I worry about at home. He is so smart, and so funny, and so much fun to be with it's incredible. We chatted about the upcoming school year (he doesn't want to go to school. but wants to see his friends) why he is mad at his brother (he is mean and won't let him hang out with him and his friends) and lots of other things. I felt a reluctance to go home, to end this sweet, perfect time with my son, but eventually we did go home, and played video games, and built with his kenex set. I let them talk me into ordering pizza for dinner, and I didn't once give my usual nutrition lecture. It was a good day.

The Beauty Within

For most of my life, I was overweight. About 7 years ago, I finally had enough, went on a diet, and over the next 5 years lost a little more than 100 pounds. I still struggle with my weight. I go though periods of overeating, followed by long stretches of eating almost nothing. I have an incredibly hard time eating in front of people. Shopping for clothes takes a herculean act of bravery on my part. I have pretty much accepted that I will always struggle with these things.

I tell you this, because I think that my preoccupation with my physical appearance has had a negative effect on my children, most especially my girls. Over the past few days, I have listened to Alley Cat talk about her makeup not being "right" before she goes outside to play, her hair not "looking good" and insisting on an immediate haircut, and constant rounds of "do I look fat". Today, Tinkerbell told me that she is having a breast augmentation at the first opportunity. I should add here, that my kids are amazingly beautiful and all of these concerns are unfounded at best.

After Tink shared her plans to have her body surgically altered, I talked with my girls. I told them first that they are beautiful, and there is no need to worry, and definitely no need for major surgery. I tried to get them to understand, however, that their body image should never define their self worth. I reminded them both of the amazing attributes they both have that have nothing to do with their physical appearance, Cat's compassion, Tink's determination. I tried to show them that they have the ability to make enormous impact on this world, to change our world for the better, no matter if they are having a bad hair day or not. I hope they heard me. I hope they understand. Because as beautiful as they are on the outside, you haven't seen anything until you see who they are on the inside, where it counts.

My 17 year old Mother

I don't think I have ever discussed the topic of Mr. Wrong's relationship with Tinkerbell here before. Tink is MW's first biological child. From the moment she was born, the sun has risen and set on her as far as he is concerned. He occasionally gets angry with her, but with one bat of her 'I'm so sorry daddy' lashes, he melts. He absolutely cannot stand the thought of her being mad at him, and she knows it and uses that to her full advantage.

This would not be a problem if Tink were an average teenager. The reality is, Tink is anything but average. I have had problems with her that I never experienced with any of my other children. Before BabyG, she ran away. Often. For days at a time. She came home drunk. She cursed us both out when the mood struck. And, oh yeah, SHE HAD A FREAKIN BABY AT FIFTEEN!!! Problems? Oh yeah, Tink knows how to bring them.

In all honesty, she is a much easier person to live with since she had BabyG. However, we have a new problem. Tink now thinks she is my mother. Yes, I have a seventeen year old mother now. She tells me what to do. She tells me when to do it. She tells me HOW to do it. She does the same thing with MW. He allows her to do it. I think he secretly thinks its cute. I however, do not. Needless to say, we bump heads a million times a day over everything from how I wash dishes to how I raise my children. She is as stubborn as I am, so these disagreements and power struggles can go on for days.

Usually, Tink is either angry at me or her dad, never both of us at once. Yes, I see how she turns us against each other, but I have to admit, when it's my turn to be the "good parent" I appreciate the peace, no matter how temporary it may be. However, since MW and I have been trying to be friends lately, Tink has changed her MO. Now she is out for blood. MY blood. The better MW and I get along, the worse Tink acts. So, what to do, what to do. Seriously, what do I do? I cannot let her run my house and my life, and I will not live with constant fighting. Short of buying her a muzzle, I am out of ideas so if you have any advice, I would love to hear it. By the way, I HATE being the bad parent!

Because it Happened to Me

I almost never talk about it.

I wish I could say that I almost never think about it, but that is far from the truth. I do think about it, in dark, lonely moments. I remember that night, more than five years ago now, that Mr. Wrong and I went to a small, local bar that he hung out in way too much back then. It wasn't the kind of bar that women should spend time in, but I never gave that a second thought. I was with my husband, I would be safe. There were two things I was sure of back then, that Mr. Wrong could hurt me in ways I never knew possible, and that he would kill anyone else that tried to hurt me, no matter what. I was happy to go that night, happy that he wanted to spend his time with me, to be with me. I was always so hopeful back then, that my marriage would turn into what I dreamed it would be, hopeful that I would be loved.

When we got to the bar, Mr. Wrong was already half way to drunk. "Pre-game drinking" I used to call it. At the time, Mr. Wrong wasn't always drunk, but he wasn't ever really entirely sober, either. Once there, he was drinking shots quickly, chasing them with beer after beer. I occupied myself playing the jukebox, and talking to the bartender, the only other woman in the bar. Mr.Wrong had started talking to a couple other men, something that usually happens only when he is drinking. One of the men was much older than either of us, and very obviously drunk.
Eventually, he walked away from the men and stood next to me, talking to me and the bartender instead. I remember that I didn't like this man, and wondered why Mr. Wrong had even spoken to him.

I guess we had been there a couple of hours when he came up to me again at the jukebox. He kept saying that he talked to my husband, I had no idea why he was telling me that. I tried to walk away from him, but he stepped in front of me, so I was pinned against the jukebox. His hands were everywhere at once. I was frantic, desperately trying to get Mr. Wrongs attention. "I talked to your husband, it's ok. I talked to your husband..." His hands went under my skirt around the time that I started to understand what he was saying.

I walked away a different person. I found Mr. Wrong, and tried to tell him quietly that we needed to leave. He told me he was having fun, and wouldn't leave. Finally I told him what happened. I expected blinding rage. I expected broken barstools, broken noses, blood. That would have been horrible. What actually happened was worse. "Oh, him. He told me he liked you. It's ok, calm down." To this day, I get upset if anyone tells me to calm down. He refused to leave the bar, so we stayed. For hours. When finally, blessedly we went home, he passed out and I cried until I fell asleep.

The next day, he didn't remember any of what had happened. When I told him, he really did feel bad. He apologized. I believed he meant it. We moved on.

I know that this story could have been so much worse. I thank God that it wasn't and my heart breaks for women whose stories are much worse. The thing is, what that man did to me wasn't the worst part of what happened. The one person that I trusted completely with my safety had let me down. Not only had he not been able to stop it, he didn't care when I told him. It was ok, to him. That is what haunts me. That is what I honestly don't know if I will ever completely let go of. Because it's not ok. And I won't calm down.

I feel like I should say here, that I am not posting this to hurt Mr. Wrong. I know that he reads this blog. I know how sorry he is that this happened to me. We have talked about it, and I truly believe and accept his apology. I wrote this for me. Because it's time to look at all the things I have kept buried for far to long. That is the only way to heal, and grow. That is how I can make my life a better place, and move on.

The Ebb and Flow of Life

'And the worst of it is, you understand, that I can't leave him: there are the children, and I am bound. Yet I can't live with him. Anna Karenina


How strange to be living a quote from my favorite book. How well I understand the meaning of being bound, and the desperate longing to be free. I am living a life of single independence, for the most part, yet I share a home with a man who is still legally my husband. He lives his life the way he chooses, yet he sleeps every night on his wife's sofa. Through it all, I try to create a sense of normalcy and safety for my children.

There is an ebb and flow to Mr. Wrong's and my relationship. We pass between friendship to mortal enemies and back again so quickly sometimes even I don't know where we are in that spectrum some days. Truly, if I think about the things that have been said and done in this past year, and throughout our marriage, I can be overcome with rage so intense that it scares me. I know that he feels the same way, and again I will say, I am not perfect and I have made mistakes.
However, if we can sit in the same room together and not argue, I have to admit that I am bound by more than my children, more even than finances, and my stubborn refusal to give in to him ever again. There are 20 years between us. Twenty years of almost daily contact. I was still little more than a child twenty years ago. We have grown up together. There is a friendship that cannot be denied between us. I hope that we can come through whatever comes next in this process and be friends, not only for our children, but for us as well.

The lack of feelings

I feel like I have been living in a bubble of sorts, for several months now. I have the strange feeling of things happening around me, but somehow not to me. To a large extent, this is of my own doing. For too long, my feelings and emotions were out there, raw and exposed, for anyone and everyone to beat on them at will. I wanted to be that person, the open and honest person who could acknowledge feelings, and accept them. Then last year happened. Events and circumstances came hurtling towards me from all directions, with dizzying speed. From October '08 to October '09 I was hit, almost nonstop, with a freight train of emotional hell that left me, quite literally, in bed for weeks. I have written about that time before in this blog. Thanks to amazing friends, and incredible children, I pulled myself out of bed. I moved on. I learned some things during that time. I learned that someone who will bring you a newspaper and starbucks coffee in bed is truly your best friend forever. I learned that kids who will watch you mess up their world and love you anyway are the most precious gift God can give you. And I learned that if you don't want to be in bed listening to All by Myself and wallowing in self pity, you need to put your feelings and emotions away. Far away. Push them down, jump a couple of times to make sure they stay, and build those damn walls high.

So that is exactly what I did. I gotta say, it works pretty well. I no longer get hit with freight trains, I knock them out of the way, or run like hell to safety. This week marked several anniversaries for me, that would make most people sad. The thing is, I'm not. The mere fact that I am not, haven't shed a single tear, is amazing to me, and got me a bit curious. I think I overbuilt my armour. I think that, while trying to give my battered feelings a well deserved break, I have made myself incapable of feeling anything at all. Is that even possible? And if it is possible, what the hell does that say about me?

As final proof of my lack of feelings, I was in the grocery store today, shopping for the rest of the weeks meals. On the music that is piped throughout the store, Goodbye Girl came on. This song has always brought me to tears, it reminds me of my grandfather, who died about a year ago. This time? Nothing. Nada. Am I a cold hearted bitch? It makes me wonder....

Cat turns 13

Today my little girl turns 13.

Wow, what an amazing thing. I truly feel like I have been lied to somehow, that my little girl is still the beautiful blonde baby that wakes up each morning singing, yes singing, in her crib. Sadly, this is no lie, no dream, Alley Cat has become a teenager.

I worried when each of my older girls became 13. I was concerned that they would choose the wrong path, the wrong friends. I worried about drinking and drugs, all the usual teenage acts of rebellion. I am not as worried about Cat.

Cat has the most mature set of morals of any child I have ever known. She is quick to correct her siblings, and occasionally me, if she feels we have done something wrong. She disapproves of cursing. She is adamantly anti smoking. She thinks people who drink or do drugs are stupid and not worth her time.

She has a quick temper, inherited from me, and forgives and forgets just as quickly. She loves fiercely, and will defend those she loves with everything in her. She worries and over thinks everything, also inherited from me, and will lose nights of sleep worrying about things that are important to her.

Cat has always made friends easily, and has many that she loves like family. She enjoys life every day, and it is a joy to watch.

So, happy birthday Cat. I love you more than you will ever know.

Happy Birthday Tinkerbell

Today you turn 17 years old. How is that even possible, when I can remember bringing you home from the hospital like it was yesterday? You wore the cutest little yellow dress, and looked like a little doll in your carseat, which seemed way too big for you.

You were a very different baby than your older sister, independent from your very first breath. So independent, in fact, that you would not fall asleep if someone was holding you. You preferred to be left alone, to do things on your own terms, in your own way. Looking at you now, it is obvious that some things never change.

I am so proud of you for so many things. Your independence, your determination, your unwavering loyalty. You have seen and lived through so much more than you should have, but your experiences have made you who you are today, and I am so grateful that you are you. I know that you will never make the mistakes I have made, or let anyone (even your mom) tell you what to do. I love that about you. I love that you are mature enough to trust you own instincts, and to know what is right for you. I tried to raise you to question authority, rather than blindly follow, and you, more than any of your brothers or sisters, have gotten that message loud and clear.

When you had BabyG at 15, a lot of people were quick to doubt your ability to handle the responsibilities of motherhood. I never for a second thought you couldn't do it. You have proven to everyone that you are a great mother, and can rise to any challenge put before you. Your son is living proof of that.

Happy birthday Tinkerbell. I can't wait to see all you accomplish in the next year.

Becoming Real

What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room…

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

The Velveteen Rabbit

I just read this quote on another blog. It amazes me how much adults can learn from children's literature. For the last year of my life, I have been living this quote. I have finally, at long last, started becoming real. Last August, I took the biggest step towards real I have ever taken, and for the first time, tasted freedom. For many reasons, mostly for my children, I had to backpedal temporarily, but now, now I know. I will not live someone elses life anymore.

I have been called many things in my quest for real-ness. Selfish, a liar, a cheater, a fraud. But, real truly doesn't happen to people who break easily, and I cannot be broken. Not by words, accusations, hatred or anything else anyone wants to throw at me. I have no sharp edges, and I surely do not need to be carefully kept. In becoming real, I have learned independence, and strength, and integrity. You don't become real alone, and thank God, I have the best and most fiercly loyal friends in the entire Universe, and children who are an amazing gift even when they are being impossible, and I owe them more than I could ever hope to repay. They make sure I am not alone. They are helping me to become real.

I thought I was alone. I thought that I was the only one who realized, at the age of 40 that I was living a life that wasn't mine, fufilling someone elses destiny. Thanks to blogs, and online friendships, I have found that is far from true. Sometimes it takes a long, long time. It did for the skin horse, and it has for me. I wish it didn't. I wish I had always known the real me. I can't live my life in regret, however. I can help my children to know themselves, and remove the toxic people from my life. I can be content and peaceful in the life I have now. Yes, I may be loose in my joints, and somewhat shabby, but that only matters to people who will never understand.

Good Enough

The beginning of the end of my marriage came on October 22,2008. Mr. Wrong told me that he didn't love me, hadn't in fact, loved me in years. I should point out that up to that point, I had been completely faithful. I tried, in every way I knew, to be a good wife. He said a lot of terrible, hurtful things that day, but the most hurtful of all was "your best isn't good enough." I have heard that ringing in my head at every low moment I have had from that point on. You. Aren't. Good. Enough.

This past year has forced me to examine myself in ways I never have before. At my very core. I have had to strip away every defense I have ever had, layer by painful layer, to discover who I truly am, physically, spiritually, and mentally. The person Oprah calls my authentic self. It has been a long journey, and it is by no means over. There have been parts of me that I really don't much like, and I have had to change them. I have had to step way outside my box, my safe little comfort zone, and do things that I honestly never thought I was capable of. I have found out what I truly believe in, what I want, who I want to be. To some, this has seemed selfish of me, to take the time and energy to work on my own happiness. To me, it was that or die. I couldn' t be the mother my children deserve if I stayed the person I was a year ago. More importantly, I need to be able to teach my girls how to be strong women. I need to be sure that my experience will never be their experience. That is vitally important for these beautiful girls who have already seen way more than they ever should.

Today, I am totally ok with my marriage being over. The thing about learning who you are is you learn the type of people you want to allow in your life. I still have a lot of anger towards Mr. Wrong, maybe I always will. You know what though? I am good enough. I always have been. If Mr Wrong or anyone else can't see that, well, that's their problem.

No more Miss Nice Guy

I tell ya, sometimes it just doesn't pay to be nice.

I moved back into Mr. Wrong's house to help him out of a crisis situation. I left a situation that was far from perfect, but it was pretty good. I fought long and hard for my independence, I finally had it. I was happy, I could breathe. I should have NEVER left.

Somehow, Mr. Wrong's promises that he was a changed man went out the window as my suitcase came in. As my shirts and pants were placed into the drawers, his real personality was unpacked from it's temporary storage area. The harder I tried to get along, the more obstacles and road blocks were thrown in my face. As the days turned into weeks, I began to feel the familiar acid churning in my stomach. As the weeks turned into months, the return of my insomnia assured me that there was a storm coming, it was just a matter of time.

Last Tuesday the storm hit. Mr. Wrong came home at 11 at night drunk. He then spent the next hour and a half terrorizing my children and my home. There is no way to avoid the truth any more. I married a violent alcoholic. There is no question of if he will be violent, just when. There is no question of if he will drink, because I now know for sure, he will always drink. He may not have another drink for a year or more, he may drink tomorrow, but he will drink.

After his latest display, I told him that he will have to leave. I cannot and will not make my children into human yo- yos. This is our home. We like it here. So far, Mr. Wrong has agreed to leave within a month, but I have heard that before. This time, however I will go to the authorities if necessary. You see, Mr. Wrong might not have learned anything in the past year, but I did. I learned that I am a lot stronger than I ever thought possible. He can call me whatever names he wants, he can do whatever he wants to do, I can say I'm not taking it anymore. This time, I mean it.

I wouldn't have believed it if I wasn't there

She came into my room pale and crying. "Something is really wrong with me mom! It hurts!" Through bleary eyes, I looked at the alarm clock. 4:00 am. As I slowly woke up, one thing registered more than anything else. Tinkerbell was crying. Tink never cries. Never. Especially during the past year and a half, with her teenage rebellion going to the extreme, she never cried, especially around me. something was definitely wrong.

I went through all the typical questions a mom asks, Do you need to poop? Do you have your period? Gas? Even as I asked these questions, I knew we were facing something far more serious. Mr. Wrong and I exchanged a look. Even with our marriage in the toilet, we still had that silent communication that couples develop after spending a lifetime together. This was bad. I quickly got dressed, while Mr. Wrong called an ambulance. While we waited, we decided logistics. I would go to the hospital, Mr. Wrong would stay home and get the rest of the kids to school. I would call him at work when I knew something.

In the ambulance, the paramedic watched Tinkerbell and then looked at me. "Is there any chance she could be pregnant?" I quickly assured him that wasn't possible. Tinkerbell was only 15 years old, I explained. She wore a size 2 jeans to school just the day before.

When we arrived at the hospital, I started to worry. By this time I had decided she had appendicitis. If an appendix ruptures, can't you die, I wondered? I moved away from my daughter reluctantly, to make room for the nurses and doctors who were suddenly everywhere. I desperately wanted someone to tell me what was wrong, and how to make it ok. Finally a young nurse came over to me. She looked at me sympathetically and suggested I may want to sit down. Now I was really scared. I assured her I was fine, and begged her to just tell me what was happening. "There is a head between her legs." A head...between....WHAT?

Apparently someone had told Tink too, because she sat straight up on the bed. "No, I can't have a baby! I am NOT having a baby!" The nurse assured her that not only could she, she would in about 10 minutes. 5 minutes and 2 pushes later, Baby G made his appearance. As the nurse put this tiny child in my arms, and I looked with shock at his adorable face, which somehow looked as confused as I was, Tinkerbell looked at me and said timidly, "Mommy? I think I should tell you, his father is black."

All of this took place one year ago today. I was in no way prepared to have another infant in our home. I was not ready for my little girl to be a mom. I really wasn't ready to be a GRANDMOTHER! I wasn't ready for any of it, but I am so grateful for all of it now. Little Baby G has been the greatest blessing this family has ever received. He turned my rebellious teenager into a different person, and the way she has taken to motherhood has been a source of constant pride and amazement. He has completely melted everyone's heart with his quick smile and easy laugh. A year ago, I wasn't at all sure things would work out the way they did, but I will always be thankful that they have. Happy birthday Baby G! We are all so happy you are here!

Life Lessons

Today, my bff and I went to Starbucks for "girl time". I love doing this even more now than I ever did, because while we were roommates, girl time was whenever I wanted it to be, and I miss that dearly. We now schedule our time, and try to make the most of her break from work. We drink awesome coffee, window shop for expensive things we can't afford and don't need, and talk about anything and everything.

Today, after discussing kids and men, our conversation turned to affairs. Certainly, that is understandable, since it seems lately every time I turn on the news someone else has had a scandalous affair. Really though, we were talking more about every day people, not people in the public eye. People, perhaps sitting next to us drinking coffee. People like her. People like me.

I hate to admit it, but I did have an affair. I could spend the next several hours explaining (justifying?) my reasons, but there really is no point to that. What I did was wrong. Period. I know that, and I live with it every day. I can't change that, I can't undo an affair. All I can do, is try to figure out what happened, something I am still trying to figure out.

What I do know, is that happy people do not have affairs. That is not to say that my husband was to blame. In the end, the blame and responsibility lies with me. I was very unhappy, living in a marriage with no communication and no trust. I felt like I was unloved and unappreciated. I asked for help, and was told I was helpless. I lived in relative isolation, I had no outlet for my feelings. I cried a lot.

When my affair began, I knew, deep down, that there was a possibility of being caught. At the time I would have said it wasn't likely, because I really didn't think my husband paid that much attention to me. Deep down though , I knew that I was taking a chance. I guess he was paying closer attention than I thought, because I did get caught. I will not say that he handled it the best way, because he did things that there is really no excuse for. Again, I knew my husband. I knew he would blow up and do inexcusable things. So, wrong or not, ultimately, I have to take responsibility for that, too. Believe me, I have, and I do.

I have often said that my affair was a symptom of my marriage breakdown, not the cause. I still truly believe that. I was so starved for love, for affection, that as soon as I was shown a little,even by a stranger, I jumped at it with both feet. However, many times a person dies because of the symptoms of a disease, rather than the disease itself. So, if my marriage does die, I have to take my responsibility for that as well. There are other ways I could have handled my situation, I am sure. My regrets are too vast and great to mention. I believe very strongly in living not in the past, but using the lessons we learn to move foward, and that's what I do, every day. Honestly, that's all I can do, accept responsibility, and move forward.

Confusion

My last post was a total downer, to quote one of my many favorite 80's sayings. That is because, my life right now is a total downer. Interesting thing though. Mr. Wrong always reads my blogs. Always. I think he is probably my biggest lurker. So, I was a little worried about posting that last night. We have argued before about posts, and I was mentally preparing myself from the time I hit publish. He never said a word. I am reasonably sure that he read it, like I said, he always reads my blogs. So, this means what exactly? I have no idea. Does it mean he is so angry that he doesn't want to talk about it? Or, does it mean that he really doesn't care how much he hurt me?

This not talking about the big elephant in the room is driving me crazy! It's funny, this time last year, Mr. Wrong was constantly demanding that I talk to him. If I didn't talk to him, well, doors were broken, objects were thrown, general destruction ensued. So, where did this need to talk go? Now that I would LOVE for him to want to talk to me, I live in icy silence. Sometimes we "surface talk", about the kids, the news, something on television, no real talk. It kills me to think this, but I really believe that this is all part of his getting back at me. For most people, this would seem to have been a very long, detailed plan, just for payback. They don't know Mr. Wrong. He would totally do something this detailed, and more.

So, aside from trips to Starbucks with Mama Ho, I am still not quite sure what to do about this situation at all. I guess, as with so many things in my life, it's a game of wait and see.

Played

I was separated for over a year. I lived apart from Mr. Wrong for 6 months of that time. During those 6 months, I heard all types of promises from Mr. Wrong. I heard how if I gave him another chance, I would never be sorry, that he was ready to accept responsibility for things he has done wrong, he was willing to talk to me about those things. I was told he knew how wrong he has been, and just needed a chance to make it up to me. I was all he wanted, all he needed.

I was played.

I came back mainly because of a family emergency, one that is still ongoing. I wouldn't have come back, however, if I didn't believe all of the promises that he made to me. I have been played before, I can't believe I fell for it again. This is worse though, because I have 20 years of history with this man. I have stood by him during some of the most impossible situations I can imagine, I have stayed with him when everyone around me knew I should leave, and for what?

So, the question now is, where do I go from here? I really have no answer for that. I know that I will not leave my children again, and I won't leave my home again. I know that no one can say that I haven't given this marriage every possible chance. I tried my best. I will continue to try. I can't do it alone though, and I really don't think it's fair to expect me to.

7 Steps to Guarantee Lifelong Unhappiness

Hold onto the past. Keep old hurts and wrongdoings close, visit them often to keep the wounds raw and opened. Don't be tempted to listen to any apologies, they probably don't mean it anyway.

Always hurt people before they have a chance to hurt you. Don't allow yourself to be open with people, they will only use your openness against you. Demand total honesty and openness, never give it. Always be sure that you can walk away without looking back.

Do not have any pastimes or outside activities. Do not have a circle of friends or a support system of any kind. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. Do not deviate from this pattern.

Always think about what you don't want to happen. "I can't lose my job", "She/he is going to break up with me", "I am going to lose my house". Play these tapes over and over in your mind. Make them a mantra, of sorts. If you should accidentally think of things you would like to happen, stop yourself immediately.

Do not take any responsibility for your own life. Never admit guilt. If left with no other option, find some reason to justify your actions. "I did that because I was stressed out", or "I might have done that, but YOU did THIS" work well.

Always look for the gray cloud behind every silver lining. Look as hard as necessary for the bad in every situation. Never see just the good and be grateful. As a matter of fact, never be grateful, for anything. No matter what.

Cultivate a sense of entitlement. Do not make your own good fortune, look for it to be handed to you, and complain incessantly when it's not. Allow jealousy to overtake you. This will help a deep and lasting bitterness and resentment against all humankind to grow.

The Push to Change

My very best friend wrote this post yesterday that made me think about a lot of things. In her post she talks about people changing. She wonders weather a grown adult can somehow learn things that should have been learned long ago in childhood. I find it hard to be objective, because I know her situation so well, as well as I know my own life. Sadly, I think that long term change in this case, is not likely.

In every relationship, there are inevitably things that we wish we could change about our partners. That is basic human nature. In a long term, mature relationship, we realize that the only thing we can change is ourselves. Not who we are, but how we react to others. Ultimately, we decide how to handle things we don't like, and what we are willing to tolerate. If we are the kind of person that needs the emotional daily affirmations of love, we have to be able to decide if we are going to be able to be with someone not as outwardly emotional, for example. Likewise, we need to be able to identify personality traits that we can not and will not tolerate. I think to try to overlook these things will only make both people miserable.

I don't think that change can be taught, any more than you can teach a person to love you. What I think the real question in her post is is can you teach maturity, and I am afraid that my answer to that is no. Maturity comes at different times for different people. There is no magical age that maturity kicks in. Tinkerbell is far more mature at 16 then people I know in their 20's and 30's. Lack of maturity doesn't make you a bad person, just perhaps not equipped to handle the responsibility that comes with a long term relationship. No matter how much we may want to, we can't push someone into maturity, even if we feel that it is long overdue.

I believe

I believe:
- We each are responsible for our own happiness, and that no one can make someone else happy.
- I was born to be a mother.
- We can learn a lot of valuable lessons from hard or painful situations.
- The most important things in life can not be bought, and have nothing to do with money.
- There is good in everyone.
- True beauty is found on the inside, not the outside of a person.
- I am a lot stronger than most people give me credit for.
- It is vitally important to laugh every day.
- That sometimes smart people make stupid choices.
- Mistakes are a part of living.
- When we know better, we do better.
- Starbucks coffee, when combined with best friends, has healing properties.
- Love never makes people sad.
- Tears are not a sign of weakness, but they do make you stronger.
- Some of the most unexpected events can bring life's biggest blessings.
- Age is nothing but a number.
- Wisdom comes with maturity.
- If you don't take control of your life, you are a spectator, not a participant, in life.

Babies!

If I have learned anything in my life, it's to expect the unexpected.

Last night my cat Abbey had kittens! There are 4 of them, soo adorable you just can't believe it. I can't be sure, but I think we have 2 girls, and 2 boys.

Because she is MY cat, and this is MY family, there is a little bit of drama in the birth story. Abbey was acting a little bit weird late last night, and we figured she might be in labor. My daughter Cat and Abbey have been best friends since we got Abbey, and she decided to sleep downstairs with her, to keep an eye on her. Abbey laid down and went to sleep in her usual spot, on Cat's leg. Around 2 this morning, a frantic Cat woke me up. Abbey had a baby- on Cat! She was a little grossed out, and a little mad that I couldn't stop laughing, but she got over it quick enough when we got downstairs and there were 2 babies! We transferred Abbey and the babies into the box we had prepared and Abbey started feeding her babies and went to sleep. Figuring she was done, we all went to bed. Imagine our surprise when we woke up this morning to 2 more babies!


Mom and babies are doing well. More pictures to come.

Unraveling

Today I feel like I am unraveling. Little by little, piece by piece. I don't think there is any one reason why. I am tired. I am physically tired, I'm emotionally tired, I'm tired of being stressed out, I'm TIRED! Mr. Wrong is being, well, Wrong lately, he's probably tired too, but he is definitely adding to my unraveling right now. Communication is at an all time low in Casa de Wrong, and that worries me. No communication is what led to my unraveling before, and I am not going back to that time. I can't. I won't. I'm not.

During our entire separation, Mr. Wrong was The Great Communicator. Always wanted to talk, really talk. About feelings, about what we wanted, about anything really. I came to really enjoy that, and count on it. Now that I live here, does that mean that we no longer need to talk? I don't think it does. It doesn't for me anyway.

So we are stressed, and not talking. That really makes me feel as if I am doing all of this alone. With no one to share it with, no one to support me, no one to vent to. I don't know, I guess for men that's ok, for me it isn't. So, how do I restore communication? Not sure about that one. If anyone has any ideas, I would love to hear them!