Almost there

The countdown has started. We have but a mere 2 weeks of school left. Then my son will be here with me for the summer.
In the fall Rachel will start kindergarten and I will have to find a purpose for myself.
I could go work at the BX, but they dont pay much, and I am sure I would get shit hours. I could go back to tending bar, but again with the shit hours...
I could sew, and sell what I make. Initally a big investment in materials, but it would keep me busy and I could make a little money in the process. I might get bored with it though.
I think the first few days will be a welcome reprieve from the ya-ya in the house I deal with daily. But then what? After the shell shock of blissed silence wears off, what am I to do with my time? Certainly an issue I will have to give much thought to.
Not too many options for a military wife living in a foreign land when she has lost her spouse preference for hiring-(damn ankle).
Anyone have any ideas of how I can make tons of money and not have to work more than 4 hours a day for it? :)

Retarded

It has become increasingly clear to me-
Men are born with some sort of insipid natural handicap thats prevents them from the most obvious of common sense when it comes to emotions- either their own or those around them.
They are what I dub as emotional retards.
I do not honestly think they can help it... although I do think they can grow out of it by about age 40- 45.
It also offers further proof that homosexuality is nature and not nurture, as I have never known a gay man to be so incredibly THICK . Since they think like a woman, they think more- sensibly and indeed, tactfully.
It bugs me. The only thing stupider than men? Us women who fall in love with them, and tell ourselves for years that it is normal, okay or unintentional.
*sigh* For more stupid men, or a good laugh- click HERE

Crazy Day

I can't deal with this shit.
It's hot and sticky. The kids are both home, and bored out of their minds. Kevin is here too- he's asleep in bed, where he has been for more than 3 hours despite my best efforts to wake him. We have no extra money to go out blowing on entertainment, not that we would anyways... It may take a crow bar and a bucket of ice water to move his lazy ass, and by the end of that, he may not be in a much of a good mood. He is also on standby this weekend, which shoots any plans of going somewhere and seeing something right in the ass.
Yep, you guessed it... It's one of my "unstable days". The days when I go around with the proverbial thorn in my ass, ready to beat the ever-living shit out of the first one who makes the wrong move. Welcome to the wondrous world that is Bi-polar disorder.
I am not medicated, as in the long run, the meds make me far worse. Last time I took my pills, I scratched my legs until I had nice scabby rings at the sock line and slept even less then normal... That's bad, since I don't sleep but 5 or so hours on a good night now.
I think I am going to go sit on the floor of the shower for a while... better than taking the largest stock pot I can find and banging it with a serving spoon, while standing on my bed screaming at my husband. It might make me feel better, but I do still have some small grasp on rationality that tells me it will probably incite a wrath similar to releasing the Kracken.
I might as well wait- at least then I can be the martyr.

Get OFF!!!

AFN- Armed Forces Network. Not anymore. Now it is the "All Folgelsong Network". Does this look like someone you want on your 61" TV all the time? Not only are we inundated with really crappy and unnecessary commercials, but too many of these are of this swingin' dick. He is the commander of something over here in Europe. I am sure he has a very important job to do- wish he would do less of it in front of the AFN cameras.
He loves seeing himself on TV. He's a freak... his eyebrows look like someone cut the heads off those troll dolls and taped them to his face. He is in serious need of some man-scaping... mabye with a weed whacker.
I just get sick of seeing his ugly mug on my TV talking about "Old Triple Seven"(His airplane, which he hung with a barb-wire wreath at Xmas in a commercial). The guy has some serious hangups on self importance.
Then what do I find on the next channel? The "Talking Chimp" Commander in Chief issuing his moral mandates about stem cell research- I can see the shit falling from his face from here... it is the one issue that has made me hate him almost constantly since he took office.
Fabulous...With TV like this to choose from, I think I will stick with my iPod.

I Never Got A Ladmo Bag!

For anyone who grew up in Phoenix, even those who didn't- check out this link. It was a great show, dear memories fondly seeded in my mind of super chicken and roger ramjet cartoons spring forward.. and the fabulous characters that came to visit the show... ah, youth. And here to Wallace and Ladmo - the icons of childhood for many kids.
Click HERE

The Force

Previous to our jaunt into oblivion in Worsbach, we took the kids to see Revenge of the Sith... Ah, Star Wars. The great movie adventure that began when I was but a toddler.
I am a totally irresponsible parent, and took my son out of school early to take him to the cinema. He had a parent initiated hooky session to go watch light-saber battles and droids with laser guns. He loved it. Brenden was so enthralled with the movie that he hardly ate any popcorn, nor hardly moved. Didn't complain about having to piss once.
We watched the great struggle between good and evil for domination over the soul of Vader with almost religious expectation, and near the end, my son breaks his two hour silence to announce to Kevin, "See, Daddy- that's where that bad Vader guy came from". So he has it all figured out. Cool.

Late nights and drinking

Interesting evening last night. That is to say, it started off kinda bad and got really shitty, but wound up okay.
I do say for the record, I am never going to my friend's house again. Too far, and I have 100% rate of getting lost on the way there, and I am guaranteed to be driving home on winding, narrow, shitty roads in the rain.
We arrived at the designated meeting house at 8 p.m.. Would have been there at 7:30, but as I mentioned before, I got lost... The directions we got for navigation sucked. We figured we would just barely make it in time. No such luck. We were informed the reservations at the restaurant had been changed to 9 p.m.. This is when my blood pressure started to climb... As we had the kids, and they go to bed at 9 p.m. on late nights, usually at 8:30.
We went inside, and the ritual of watching the alcoholic buddy swill beer began. At about 8:40, the rest of the guests had arrived.
We drove down another shit country road to the next village to get to a pizza joint (yes a pizza joint- not a fine place worth the drive), listening to the kids rejoice in the back seat that we were finally going to eat. (They usually have dinner at 6:30ish)
Cute place, I suppose; small, homey, and quiet with a little bitty bar and about 10 tables.
Didn't know going in that it also had the SLOWEST FUCKING SERVICE in all of Germany. We got our menus 30 minutes after sitting down, not because they were busy- there was hardly anyone else in the joint- but just because. We ordered 30 minutes after that. The food was on the table about an hour later. (Except the salad. That took them 45 minutes to prepare.)
This means my children did not eat dinner until almost 11 p.m, when they should have been having sweet dreams, they were just sitting down to eat. They were patient, of course- as patient any half starved tired cranky 4 and 6 year old can be. This is to say the closer it got to 11 o'clock, the grumpier and more intolerant they became... So did I, for that matter. I was proud of them for not kicking the host in the leg. I wanted to.
After consuming the meal, which was tasty, but incomplete, I chased the waitress around for 25 minutes trying to pay the check. My poor kids. Now they had full tummies and were exhausted. I was fuming by this point. Heather would be proud of me- I was "Gracious under pressure".
We finally left and retired to Scott and Heidi's house. The kids slept the long way home, and crashed out in their kid's rooms when we got there.
We had such a good time with them. We laughed and shot the shit until 2:30 am. It was just the decompression I needed after the evening we had. They are wonderful people, and parents like us. So nice to have someone to hang with with whom we share a stress, a life experience.
M & A can just come here if they want to hang out from now on. I am asserting my territorial nature (I may lift my leg on the wall). They have no kids, and so I can't completely fault them for not knowing that schedules are important.
I can fault them a little, as they have known us for 9 years. The real crux of the whole night- we didn't even talk to them much, as they were on the far end of the table. Such bullshit.
I told Kev I didn't want to go in the first place. I love being right.

But I Don't Wanna!

We have plans tonight. I don't want to go really. I am such a house-cat and homebody that the idea of going out to sit in a restaurant in a town 20 minutes away to celebrate a birthday with a bunch of other rowdy people, few of which I know, while trying to keep a handle on the kids really turns me off... especially today- slept like shit and feel like an economy sized can of smashed assholes.
But we are going.
Tomorrow, we are going to get that afore promised break from the kids, as they are going to go spend the night at their friend's house. Sounds like an excuse to cook seafood to me. Kevo makes a mean linguine with white clam sauce... mmmmm.....
I would love to make it a date night and go to the movies, but I don't have the heart. If I go near the theatre, not only will I risk being trampled, but the temptation to join that stampede to see the new Star Wars movie would prove overwhelming. We promised our son we would take him. Ah, parenthood, and it's sacrifices.
Nights alone are great. Over-rated, but great. At least once during the night, we will look at each other and comment on how quiet it is in the house. Perhaps even the house being "too quiet". It's great to make love in the living room with the door open, without fear of getting walked in on... But that doesn't compare to how sweet they look sleeping when we walk down the hallway to check on them... Besides- a whole night is not needed for such carnal pursuits, and during the times between, it becomes painfully obvious to me...
Motherhood has somehow reprogrammed my brain to need less sleep, give me better hearing, and gives me that "I left the stove on" feeling when the kids aren't around. It's a biological brainwash. Thanks, God.

One Life for Rent Cheap

I have the hardest job on the face of the planet. The hours are long, I am always on call, I do not get days off, and frankly, the pay sucks.
Not that it is without it's benefits. The secret smiles and laughter outweigh the crying and screaming- (some days, anyways).
I hear the complaints of my friends about how bad work sucks, and I know it does- as I have done the 9-5 thing. Come to think of it, in my real life I did the 6-2 thing, even the midnight to 8 thing. The money was nice, and yea, I hated having to get up and go... some days I even walked around with the world's biggest chip on my shoulder begging someone in the casino to knock it off... Especially one or two of those terribly bitchy change girls... I have medical billed, I have tended bar, I have done the casino work thing- by far my favorite with the best money, and the most fun.
The question is would I prefer to be doing that or staying here, cleaning up after other people and cooking for them as my primary mission. Cleaning the cat box, defrosting dinner, listening to the fighting, washing clothes, scraping dishes, sweeping floors... All the while trying to motivate my family to pitch in ever so slightly to at least pick up their own dishes or put their clothes into the hamper, not on the floor... just little bits to make my life even a smidgen easier.
Hard to convince them it is necessary to do, when they know I will get pissed off and do it my damn self- of course they stand there confused wondering why I am slamming the cabinet doors and grumbling under my breath, and on the verge of a breakdown. They seriously don't get it.
So, for those out there who go do the grind outside of the house for a "bring home the paycheck" kind of work- buck up- at least you have a time when you are off for the day... and you get days off... and you get a paycheck at the end of the week... shit, you even get vacation time.
Not to say I don't love staying here and raising my kids. I do. If you have the means, I suggest everyone try it at least once. But it is not for the faint of heart, nor for the patience-challenged. Might I suggest we trade for a week? Oh.. and I get to keep the paycheck for it.

ZZZZzzzzZZZzzzZZzzzZZzzZZzzzz

Too tired to post. More tomorrow. Stress of the weekend has worn me out and left me speechless. Circle this day in red folks... It is not often I don't have something to say.

United Airlines can suck my d....

I awoke to the glorious sweet voice of my daughter on my bed bouncing and excited "Mommy, get up... we have to go get daddy!" This was at 6:45 am. She was so happy, and my son was also in the room, asking "Is it time to go mommy?" Sweet little shining faces bringing in the glory of the morning- I grumbled "no" and rolled over, went back to sleep... WHY?!

It is very unnerving to get a phone call at 2 in the morning when you are expecting someone home in a few hours. It is more unbalancing when you go to bed in only a pair of underwear, and have to fumble around in the dark to find the phone, after running down the hallway, titties a bouncin'-free in the wind, to be told that "I am not coming home today".
Due to error on the airlines part, my dear husband did not fly out of Dulles International, but instead got stuck on a busted plane that was late to land and miss his connection out of Raleigh to Washington.
The airlines sadistic idea of a fix? To fly him to O'Hare in the morning instead and fly him into Frankfurt at 05:45 in the morning tomorrow. It majorly blows. Don't suppose they could have fixed the frickon plane that had the exact same problem a week ago so as to not delay and fuck up my life. No wonder so many airlines are going broke. Fuckers.

This news, as afore mentioned, came at 2 am. I didn't get back to sleep until about 4-ish, as I was upset and stressed out thinking on how I would wake two young kinds at three in the morning to tote them on a 90 minute car ride to frankfurt- not to mention my dislike of driving at night on highways. (Photo-sensitive people don't like dark roads with bright headlights coming at them)
So I spent the morning on the phone trying to arrange a shuttle, get him off for Monday from work, and figure a way to explain to the very upset children that daddy is in fact, not coming home today.

19 Hours and Counting

The clock is ticking towards my reunion with the husband... no doubt it will be only a matter of time before I am here reporting on his exploits as a "typical man". But for now I can be happy with my he-bitch in route home... Married life- it's great.

Slow....

Slow day. No news. No events.
No excitement for me. My DH is at the Boston Museum of Science having a great time. I am looking at my kids throwing rice on the floor from their dinner plates because they honestly think I am not seeing or hearing the supper-time tag game. Asses will be busted.
All the projects I had planned as the ambitious housewife 3 weeks ago upon Kev's departure have been systematically sorted into realistic and "I am not martha Stewart" categories, and dealt with as such. There is only so much one can do when she lives on the 4th floor of a building without an elevator, and some of those same-said projects would require much lifting and carrying. Fuck it- it can wait until he can have all that "fun" with me.

Over the much vocal protests of my mother, I have made arrangements to let my kids spend the night on Saturday at a friends house. She thinks I am taking them away from their daddy... I think I am sending them someplace they really want to go anyways, and giving us a chance to rest and re-coop from the separation, 4 hour drive for me, and 18 hour flight for him... amongst other things.
My mother said "That's not what to do." Maybe not, but I am doing it anyways. Her concern is for the kids mental well-being. As if getting to go play at a friends house for the evening is some kind of parental neglect on my part- and terribly selfish of me for wanting some uninterrupted time with my husband for myself.
So, again I am proving I am a mean evil horrible selfish terrible bitch.
But.... you knew that already.

Thought for the day

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body. ~ But rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming ~ "HOLY SHIT!! What a ride!"

And so here we are

Todays only complaint- besides to allergies I have to EVERYTHING in this frickon country is that I am still alone... well, at least without adult companionship. I forever have the buzz of the fabulous children in the house.
I have laundry to do and my bed hasn't been made since Kev left- but I don't see much need, so screw it. I am sick of running the errands and taking the trash out in addition to my other jobs and responsibilities. I hate doing it alone- although I do like not having him rolling over in the middle of the night and clothes-lining me across the throat.
When he gets home, we also need to start the frantic on line search for that "perfect" birthday gift for our daughter. She will be 5. Since it will most likely be bought online (see previous blog on AAFES SUCKS), we need to get it soon, to allow for delivery.
Not that it matters to her. We could get her anything and she would think us the bestest people on the whole planet, second only to God in power and benevolence... It is our own hang up that we want her to have the neatest, coolest, most awesome present in the world- the dream and desire of every kid... For us- the perfect gift is one that she doesn't lose interest in after 20 minutes of play.
Difficult task that- to find something to entertain the world's biggest busy-body for a few hours. I was thinking GBA- since she likes her brothers so much- but then again- it might be too much. A five year old with an eMac, a custom room, a TV, a bike and a GBA... not to mention her boxes full of toys, dolls, and books- Oh! And a closet more packed than mine with clothes.
It's not all our fault they are spoiled (for indeed our son is just as rich in goodies), the grandparents have made their contributions... Many in fact.
But I worry- it may be a bad thing to ask "What to get for the person who has everything?" when that person is 5.

Okay, okay- I lied.. I have another bitch-
My son came out of the bathroom butt-naked and announced through a strained voice that he puked on the bathroom floor. On his way back to the toilet following his glorious announcement- he barfed in the hallway.
This is not cool.

Colorful Me

Thus far I have figured out how to change colors, and add links. Actually I had to have Morpheus hold my hand thru the links thing... and this glorious installation is to the credit of my favorite arch-nemesis- who I shall not call by name... she doesn't want anyone to know she is a nice person.
I am in search now of how to format the margins, change some of that shit over there to the other side.
I am hoping to get it all done before the hub gets back in town on Saturday... as I am sure after he returns, my content will need to turn back to the trials and tribulations for which this website is my stress outlet.
I am just thrilled that I have a blog I can decorate with pictures... That is enough- for now :)

Strength

I am watching the beginning of a transformation of my friend... from a passive watcher who worries and hurts to a woman who stands up for herself and her needs, and goes on to do what she is required to do, even when she thinks she can't.
She took the first extremely difficult steps the other day to begin fighting for her marriage. She says she wants to be happy and married- right now she is living with a paper-legal roommate who is supposed to be a spouse. Her husband is an alcoholic, and she is hoping there is a means to an end of it. If an addict has to hit rock bottom before cleaning up- she is now doing her damnedest to show him the way down to that abyss of self-realization.
I wish her love and luck, and I am here to offer all the support she needs.... and him too. I think if this all works out it will be something great to actually get to know the man who has been our "friend" for years, but I know nothing about except that he has a drinking problem.
Love to ya A... Stay strong.

Starting again, again

Here we go again- unsatisfied with Drupal's lack of easy image handling- I am trying to switch everything to MT.
We'll see how it goes.
If I don't break my site, or blow up the G5, I will consider it a great success.

Mother's Day

This is the first year when my kids have been old enough to understand mother's day... It is also the first mother's day in a long time that I will spend without my husband around.
The boy-o made a project at school... a beautifully hand painted (as only a 6 year old can) flower pot, and in it he put tissue paper flowers. It is the most adorable thing I have ever seen. I have suddenly turned into one of those sappy mommies, and I have a new center piece for my table.
This morning I was awoken by both kids, telling me that breakfast was ready... Granted, I was scared of what I might find... they did good. Brenden made cereal, and he put Rachel in charge of toast. It was dry toast, but toasted nicely. They did it all by themselves, and they were so proud. Also, the announcement was made that as an additional gift for the weekend, they were going to refrain from fighting. We'll see how well that goes.
They do seem to be ultra sweet today. It's a nice change.
They also plan to make lunch- being that I am not a big fan of PB&J, I may have to help them out with the preparation.
I just love the fact that they are thinking of me... For a 6 and 4 year old to be appreciative of the mommy thing is something great. It's the first mother's day they are making special, and I hope the first of many.

Privacy

Privacy... a foggy memory. It slipped away with my youth.
I never, as a young woman, pictured myself with a boy child running through my house like his head was on fire, yet here I am. A gorgeous six year old boy is living and growing up in my care.
He has long reached the age of it being inappropriate to bathe with his baby sister, and in turn to be in mommy's room when she is getting dressed, or showering. He gets it. He knows already that boys and girls are different, and boys do not have any business seeing girls naked.
Still, while I was in my room this morning, putting on my brasserie... He comes walking in, finishing the sentence he started in the hallway. He looked up to see me trying to cover my tits with one hand, and wave him out of the room with the o
ther. Does he apologize and bow out gracefully? No, of course not. He covers his mouth to keep the explosion of laughter in as he walks out-nay- backs out of the room. At this juncture, he is giggling his ass off with one of his nubby fingers pointing at me. As he disappears down the hallway, I hear him tell Rachel- "I saw mommy's boobs! Ahahahhahha"
It doesn't end there. My daughter- like my cat- has a thing about being in the same room with me, even if that happens to be when I am on the can doing my thing.
Now I had no delusions of parenthood starting out. I expected to be followed to the bathroom as a part of motherhood. I never thought it would be going on for this long, but I anticipated it. Though an irritant most days- it is one I mostly ignore and accept as something she will grow out of. What I can't get the gist of is her standing there, holding her nose and telling me I stink. "Well, then get out;" She doesn't.
The worst days are the ones when I am trying to... use my feminine hygiene products and she insists on standing there playing her favorite game of "20 questions".
Imagine for a moment trying to explain what that is, why it is, where did you put it, why are you bleeding, why do you have to throw that part away, etc, etc while trying to give answers a 4 year old will understand, and get the tampon put in the right place without dropping it into the water below. I have tried the answers of "Never mind", and "I'll tell you some day", but it usually invariable end ups as "Rachel- GET OUT AND LET ME DO MY THING". AT which time she gets upset, runs down the hall, and accuses me of hating her.
No, dear child. I do not hate you... One day, my grandchild will do the same to you.

OW! OW! OW!

Mother nature is a whore, and my doctors are her sadistic minions. I suffer today, as I do every 3 weeks from horrible cramps. The medical professionals give me motrin (vitamin M, as it is the military's cure for every ailment), and send me on my way. They can kiss my ass.
I want a hysterectomy, but they won't give me one- as I am under 35. I am the oldest woman in my family with my plumbing in tact. All the other women in my bloodline had theirs out by 30... But not me- the docotrs are sure I will change my mind. They also somehow think I am just being a wuss about pain. They can kiss my ass, again- what do men know about pain? Maybe if I got their balls in a vice grip every 5-10 minutes for 2 days a month, they might develop some empathy.

Not Good

Woke up late- kids had made breakfast- and a mess.
Twisted my broken ankle- said various dirty words.
Played scrabble- got ass beat.
Talked to husband on phone about money- got nowhere.
Took kids out to play- got yelled at that we weren't riding bikes.
Went to park- got bit by bugs.
Came home.
Cut son's hair- got yelled at by daughter that she wants her head shaved.
Made dinner- Meat was bad, didn't know 'til I served it- Got yelled at by son for taking away his meat, and leaving him with rice and green beans.
Had mini-break down in front of children.
Being told kids are still hungry- Must go start over.

Sad

It is rare times in my life when I find myself looking around an empty room and feel sad. So often with the hustle and bustle of my life as wife and mom, aka superwoman, I cherish and treasure every single moment of solitude and quiet I can find for myself.
Not tonight.
My husband is far away from me, and though he would never admit it, he is not thinking much about me tonight. He is on a mini-vacation this weekend... Beach front hotel room, plans for hours, and a friend to share it with. He is having a great time. Good for him. I am sitting on a couch in my living room, looking at an empty spot next to me on the couch where he should be.
Soon, I will go to bed, and toss and turn for much of the night. I am chronic insomniac anyways, but him being gone makes it worse. I fond myself half awake during the wee morning hours reaching across the bed to find a void in the blankets instead of the warm body that usually occupies them. There is food leftover in the kitchen- Feeding one less person is hard to get used to.
One less wet towel in the morning, one less glass on the coffee table.
Of course it has it's up side too- I don't have to watch baseball, or snooker, or curling... In fact I always have the remote. I can also make things for dinners that he normally wouldn't eat. I can stay up all hours indulging my insomniac ways without his reprimand...
I would rather have him here.
Next week may suck even worse- as he won't be in SC with a friend, but back in his home- the old stomping grounds- with family and friends... and not much time for the "same old shit" of mine that I want to talk to him about.... They are things that could wait- and may not matter tomorrow- but I wish I had someone to share them with.
I hate being on the phone with him sometimes, as I am feeling like a bore by comparison to whatever he may be doing.... Like I am a necessary impedance he must deal with in his otherwise fun-filled ventures. He never has much to say when I talk to him. He doesn't ask questions about me, or my day, or my activities- indeed why would he, when he knows nothing really goes on here. Snotty noses, and weather warming, kids fighting, and laundry to do...
Lonely, isolated, and insignificant is how I feel right now, and it sucks.