Where to start these days? In a world full of uncertainty I think my house tops the list of utter chaos. Lots of people say that – but few could ever entertain the thought of their house looking like mine right now.
I would love to say something like, “there is wrapping paper all over the room, the ornaments have crashed to the floor, and the outside lights are hanging by a string” but the truth is our Christmas is going just fine.
The presents are all wrapped and my holiday cards are sent. In fact, we have already celebrated two of our main Christmases. We went up to our cabin where I decorated our tree and I cooked and we enjoyed being with our granddaughter. Watching her play in her new pink kitchen and undress her new doll – who for some reason HAD to be naked all of the time. It was a great time.
Then, last night, we did the modern version of Christmas and “Skyped” with our grandson in San Diego. We spent an hour in the virtual world living room and got to see him open his gifts and find utter amusement with the wrapping paper and the buttons on the computer – which often interfered with our techno communication. None the less, it was a lot of fun and I can say that I actually felt like we were all together. Now that is making good use of the cyber world we live in.
However, while the celebrations are still to come – there is a circus going on in our house.
For a few months now things have been moving at a steady even somewhat slow pace with our remodel. Beautiful custom built-ins have been created and modest changes have been made to the house… that is until last week when what I thought was a house became a pit filled with crap we probably never needed… and now we are hauling it from one room to another.
We are replacing all of the dated oak trim and shitty hollow doors with trendy white trim and true six panel doors through out the house and all new windows, too. No, it doesn’t seem like a big deal – but can I even describe what it is like to empty one room so the trim can be nailed in, the windows can be installed and the painter can come?
It started out smooth. Me carefully organizing anything that came out of a closet… placing it in a fashion that maintained a sense of control. Until one day, there was no more room, the windows were coming and the next thing I know – my underwear is tossed into a linen closet, my blow dryer is under the bed and my nightstand is in the bathroom. Chaos, utter chaos.
We are living like that right now. And if you want to know how crazed this all is – I showered at my ex-husband’s house yesterday. Really think about that.
So, as I gaze at my pretty tree and the mound of wrapped presents, as I read through the holiday cards and write out the ingredients for the Christmas cupcakes I will bake – there is stomping feet, hammering of nails and the smell of paint lingering above me.
Thank God no one at our house believes in Santa Claus anymore – because one look in the Monroe house and Santa is running out the door – that is if he can find the door behind the piles of laundry and dog beds.
I don’t drink eggnog – but if I did I would undoubtedly fill it with booze. The truth is – I don’t even need the eggnog…
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Truths: Where to begin?
I have so much to say after yesterday that I don’t even know where to start. I try to look at days like yesterday as learning experiences and maybe as I write this blog something of an educational nature will come to me. I hope.
The day started out in a way that some would find disappointing from the get go. The painters were supposed to come and start spraying all the new trim boards which will undoubtedly be a three day project. But, early on I found out that the painter was sick and wouldn’t be coming at all.
For me it was actually a huge relief – almost cause for celebration. For the last two months someone has been in my house working everyday and to know that no one would be here and I would be home all day (my car is in the shop…part two of the story)- I couldn’t stop smiling.
I worked out – walked around in my spandex because NO ONE was hear to see me… and then I got down to business and took on wrapping presents. I told my friend, Nancy, “Wrapping presents always seems like such a fun, Christmassy, thing to do – but in reality it is just a pain in the ass.”
Worse is when you have PMS. PMS and the paper rips or the tape runs out or the damn shirt won’t fit in the box (the few boxes you did get from the stores – they always seem to run out every Christmas – can no one anticipate anything?)
So, if wrapping gifts and PMS don’t go together you can surely imagine what it is like when the dealership calls to tell you that your car won’t be ready and they don’t even know what is wrong with it.
I avoided these calls and left them to Bill. I knew me responding to any of it would have ended in a lawsuit.
And, if all of that isn’t enough – add a hormonal 13 year old to the mix and it is nothing short of disaster. And while you might be smiling – it is NOT funny.
Abby pretty much had a hissy fit and blamed us for the fact that she would be up until midnight studying for a test that she knew NOTHING about all because we had to go get my car – not my car – but the loaner they were giving us – because they are idiots and don’t know how to rotate four tires in less than 8 hours. (its Anderson BMW in Crystal Lake, IL – I thought you should know.)
It’s a 20 minute car ride to the dealership and NO ONE talks. All you hear is deep sighs and bodies shifting. I can feel my stomach turn upside down and my head exploding.
I remember these days with my mom. I do. So, now, instead of antogoninzing the situation, I choose to say nothing at all. I am sure some psychologist is gasping because I am teaching my daughter to avoid conflict. But conflict with an adolescent girl seems more deadly than a future of poor communication skills.
And then as we ate dinner out – the words that I have feared all a long came blurting out, “I HATE the divorce!”
It was dumb of me to ask – but at the time I didn’t get it. “What divorce?”
“Yours and dad’s, duh!” Okay she didn’t actually say, “Duh,” but I know it was implied.
The weird thing about the divorce is that we have been divorced for 10 years – it is pretty much all Abby knows and yet, one day, we all knew it would surface.
So that was the ultimate bomb of the day and that pretty much put me in a dark place. One bottle of 64 wasn’t going to make that go away. I don’t even know if a case would have helped. But, being that it was my lucky day – we didn’t have any 64 at home. Go figure.
We are home now – and Abby is in her room – still sighing and stomping – Bill and I are in the basement – mostly silent – because what is there to say… and out of the blue, Keith, my ex-husband, comes over.
For a moment – I really thought Abby called him begging for an escape out of the Hell we have her in but no, he stopped by because he had gotten me a gift certificate that I needed for someone for Christmas. Isn’t that what all ex-husbands do? And how many women actually feel blessed to see their ex-husband at the door.
One because I did think he was taking Abby away… and two – because it broke up the wall of tension building in our house.
I know suicide is not a laughing matter – but I can’t help but think that it was the mom of a teenage daughter who said, “I would rather slit my wrists.” Because that is truly how I felt last night.
Sure by the time we went to bed – the house and its raw emotions had settled down – and by this morning things were back to whatever normal around here is…but enough had been said and not said to make me realize that last night wasn’t really the last night – it was just the first night of more like it to come.
I am going to have to step up my game to straight shots and forget about beer. What else can I do?
And, that is my educational take away.
The day started out in a way that some would find disappointing from the get go. The painters were supposed to come and start spraying all the new trim boards which will undoubtedly be a three day project. But, early on I found out that the painter was sick and wouldn’t be coming at all.
For me it was actually a huge relief – almost cause for celebration. For the last two months someone has been in my house working everyday and to know that no one would be here and I would be home all day (my car is in the shop…part two of the story)- I couldn’t stop smiling.
I worked out – walked around in my spandex because NO ONE was hear to see me… and then I got down to business and took on wrapping presents. I told my friend, Nancy, “Wrapping presents always seems like such a fun, Christmassy, thing to do – but in reality it is just a pain in the ass.”
Worse is when you have PMS. PMS and the paper rips or the tape runs out or the damn shirt won’t fit in the box (the few boxes you did get from the stores – they always seem to run out every Christmas – can no one anticipate anything?)
So, if wrapping gifts and PMS don’t go together you can surely imagine what it is like when the dealership calls to tell you that your car won’t be ready and they don’t even know what is wrong with it.
I avoided these calls and left them to Bill. I knew me responding to any of it would have ended in a lawsuit.
And, if all of that isn’t enough – add a hormonal 13 year old to the mix and it is nothing short of disaster. And while you might be smiling – it is NOT funny.
Abby pretty much had a hissy fit and blamed us for the fact that she would be up until midnight studying for a test that she knew NOTHING about all because we had to go get my car – not my car – but the loaner they were giving us – because they are idiots and don’t know how to rotate four tires in less than 8 hours. (its Anderson BMW in Crystal Lake, IL – I thought you should know.)
It’s a 20 minute car ride to the dealership and NO ONE talks. All you hear is deep sighs and bodies shifting. I can feel my stomach turn upside down and my head exploding.
I remember these days with my mom. I do. So, now, instead of antogoninzing the situation, I choose to say nothing at all. I am sure some psychologist is gasping because I am teaching my daughter to avoid conflict. But conflict with an adolescent girl seems more deadly than a future of poor communication skills.
And then as we ate dinner out – the words that I have feared all a long came blurting out, “I HATE the divorce!”
It was dumb of me to ask – but at the time I didn’t get it. “What divorce?”
“Yours and dad’s, duh!” Okay she didn’t actually say, “Duh,” but I know it was implied.
The weird thing about the divorce is that we have been divorced for 10 years – it is pretty much all Abby knows and yet, one day, we all knew it would surface.
So that was the ultimate bomb of the day and that pretty much put me in a dark place. One bottle of 64 wasn’t going to make that go away. I don’t even know if a case would have helped. But, being that it was my lucky day – we didn’t have any 64 at home. Go figure.
We are home now – and Abby is in her room – still sighing and stomping – Bill and I are in the basement – mostly silent – because what is there to say… and out of the blue, Keith, my ex-husband, comes over.
For a moment – I really thought Abby called him begging for an escape out of the Hell we have her in but no, he stopped by because he had gotten me a gift certificate that I needed for someone for Christmas. Isn’t that what all ex-husbands do? And how many women actually feel blessed to see their ex-husband at the door.
One because I did think he was taking Abby away… and two – because it broke up the wall of tension building in our house.
I know suicide is not a laughing matter – but I can’t help but think that it was the mom of a teenage daughter who said, “I would rather slit my wrists.” Because that is truly how I felt last night.
Sure by the time we went to bed – the house and its raw emotions had settled down – and by this morning things were back to whatever normal around here is…but enough had been said and not said to make me realize that last night wasn’t really the last night – it was just the first night of more like it to come.
I am going to have to step up my game to straight shots and forget about beer. What else can I do?
And, that is my educational take away.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Truths: 13
13 years ago, right now (its 9:30am) I walked into Good Shepherd hospital to have a baby. My water had broke at 7am… you know where you feel like you can’t stop peeing and within 15 minutes I had a contraction. A real contraction not one of those Braxton Hicks kind that you worry about early in pregnancy… the ones you swear you will get confused with for real thing and spend sleepless nights panicking that you won’t know when you are going into labor… Even though every doctor and mother on the planet promise you that you will KNOW…
Boy, when you get that first contraction – you KNOW.
While I never had another baby – my labor was relatively easy. I mean as far as having a watermelon come out of your body easy… and only after I got the epidural.
That was 13 years ago… and there are days, like today that I wish I could have that epidural again!
See, it is Abby’s birthday today and according to her and by 7am this morning (ironically when my water broke in 1998) this is her worst birthday ever!
She had to wear her pom uniform which is painstakingly itchy (I can’t really argue – polyester?), she HATES (I don’t approve of her using that word… I only use it on a very select but deserving people) her teachers – ALL of them… AND, if that weren’t bad enough she has a band concert tonight “on her birthday!”
(Now, I think a band concert on any night is punishment but I guess on your birthday it could be worse.)
So, even though she got some presents and hand delivered flowers from her dad and Carol this morning and calls and texts – this is undoubtedly the worst day of her 13 year old life!
Which pretty much makes it the worst morning of my life! Have you dealt with an unstable, moody girl at 7am?
13 years ago she screamed bloody murder when she took her first breath and today she wallowed away when she took her first step out of bed.
Despite the wrath of the morning – today gives me pause to celebrate her life. The places we have been in just 13 years and the amazing way she has changed nearly everything about me.
I won’t lie – the toddler years weren’t easy for me and even some of the early school years – and certainly days like today with her are no picnic in the park… But, now as she matures I see this real person who I am so proud of.
In less than 2 years she will be driving, 2 more and she will be in college, 2 more and she will be drinking (who am I kidding – that is probably just 3 years away). The first 13 years are safe ones the next 13 – God help me.
Today marks her entrance into a teenager, which by the looks, of it marks my opened gate to hormonal hell… But we will be okay (as long as I keep the cocktails coming)
All jokes aside, I had no idea what I was doing 13 years ago. I remember walking out of the hospital with this little baby and thinking, “I cannot believe they just let us leave. They didn’t even tell us what to do.”
But, we faked our way for the last 13 years – and I think we have done okay. The 6 pound baby has become a beautiful girl – teenager now… and while she is having the worst day of her life – I am counting my blessings.
Boy, when you get that first contraction – you KNOW.
While I never had another baby – my labor was relatively easy. I mean as far as having a watermelon come out of your body easy… and only after I got the epidural.
That was 13 years ago… and there are days, like today that I wish I could have that epidural again!
See, it is Abby’s birthday today and according to her and by 7am this morning (ironically when my water broke in 1998) this is her worst birthday ever!
She had to wear her pom uniform which is painstakingly itchy (I can’t really argue – polyester?), she HATES (I don’t approve of her using that word… I only use it on a very select but deserving people) her teachers – ALL of them… AND, if that weren’t bad enough she has a band concert tonight “on her birthday!”
(Now, I think a band concert on any night is punishment but I guess on your birthday it could be worse.)
So, even though she got some presents and hand delivered flowers from her dad and Carol this morning and calls and texts – this is undoubtedly the worst day of her 13 year old life!
Which pretty much makes it the worst morning of my life! Have you dealt with an unstable, moody girl at 7am?
13 years ago she screamed bloody murder when she took her first breath and today she wallowed away when she took her first step out of bed.
Despite the wrath of the morning – today gives me pause to celebrate her life. The places we have been in just 13 years and the amazing way she has changed nearly everything about me.
I won’t lie – the toddler years weren’t easy for me and even some of the early school years – and certainly days like today with her are no picnic in the park… But, now as she matures I see this real person who I am so proud of.
In less than 2 years she will be driving, 2 more and she will be in college, 2 more and she will be drinking (who am I kidding – that is probably just 3 years away). The first 13 years are safe ones the next 13 – God help me.
Today marks her entrance into a teenager, which by the looks, of it marks my opened gate to hormonal hell… But we will be okay (as long as I keep the cocktails coming)
All jokes aside, I had no idea what I was doing 13 years ago. I remember walking out of the hospital with this little baby and thinking, “I cannot believe they just let us leave. They didn’t even tell us what to do.”
But, we faked our way for the last 13 years – and I think we have done okay. The 6 pound baby has become a beautiful girl – teenager now… and while she is having the worst day of her life – I am counting my blessings.
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