It Just Never Stops

April 24, 2009 at 9:17 am (Crazy Shit, Friends, General)

Life, that is. I’ve been so busy this week with everything. I have had downtime but that hasn’t included blogging or reading blogs or even answering e-mails. It just includes working, spending time with Nate, mowing grass, weedeating, cleaning house, and playing with the dog. I haven’t even seen my boyfriend that much, except at work, where we both tend to be too much. He worked half a day or so on his day off and I worked somewhat on my day off so it really isn’t much of a day off when you still go into work.

On top of that, yesterday, after getting into my trunk no less than three times, I managed to break my key off on turn # 4. This is bad, as my trunk key is also the key for the rest of the car. No one, except for maybe my dad, has another key to my car. My dad lives over an hour away.

I called the local dealership and found that they are so stringent about key codes that unless I bought the car from them, I didn’t, or had work done on the car there, I DID, then they couldn’t make me a key. Seems some car thieves/chopshoppers, had stolen a bunch of key codes and done some very bad things and now the FBI is very, very anal about keys.

To make matters worse, I had no ID, no money, no nothing, since it was all locked inside my car. I couldn’t get a hold of T-Bird and I didn’t really feel like bothering ETW or The Blonde Goddess to give me a ride over to the dealership. Instead, it being a beautiful day and me having a little time before I had to pick up Nate, or rather, just enough time to schlep to the dealership, get the key and schlep back before having to pick up Nate, I walked.

Its 3 1/2 miles. Luckily, I’m used to walking a lot and T-Bird was able to come and pick me up. She called me when I was at the foot of the bridge going over the river and said she would be over and just to wait at the dealership since her one working vehicle was in use. The guy was very nice and just asked that I bring my ID back because they have to keep my info on file for SEVEN YEARS. How crazy is that???

Good news is, he didn’t charge me for the key and my broken off key still works with the other broken off piece in the trunk so I can still open my trunk.

And that is how I spent part of my afternoon yesterday!

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This, That & The Other

April 22, 2009 at 10:43 pm (Chico, Crazy Shit, Nate)

I still don’t really feel like blogging about Jeff. I know I need to write it down and document everything but I don’t feel like it. I worked a double Monday, a double yesterday and had to be back at 7:30 this morning for a delivery. I’m whooped.

However, I do feel the need to write about Nate and Chico. Nate is doing a bit better in school. Right now he’s borderline “not going to pass 7th grade.” I’ve been listening to a CD that Evil Twin’s Wife gave me about effective parenting skills and what to say and what not to say. Unfortunately after a day or two of effective parenting, Nate can already tell me what I’m going to say before I say it.

Its working, though, whether he knows what I’m going to say or not. So far he’s making a 100% in Algebra and a 100% in Basic Skills. I’m not sure how his other classes are going yet, but I’m in touch with his teachers.

Chico, poor, poor Chico, had a really rough day. Because he is so small and my house is not completely puppy-proofed yet, and he isn’t completely potty-trained, and I do have this pride of vicious felines, Chico is remanded to the bathroom while we are away. He has all the amenities of home. Food, water, man cave, pee paper, and his chew toys.

I noticed within a day or two that Chico was able to climb atop his man cave, which is actually the cat carrier. You know, the kind with the hard plastic sides and the aluminum crate front. The man cave nestles easily between my toilet and the vanity sink. I warned Nate that we had to make sure and CLOSE THE LID ON THE TOILET lest Chico get frisky and attempt a daring water escape via the sewage pipes.

Since I had to be at work so early, Jace was kind enough to rouse my child and cart him off to school for me. When I returned home to pick up Chico so I could take him to pick up Nate with me, I found him, yep, IN THE TOILET!

Poor. little. guy. Stuck in the toilet for who knows how long. Although I don’t believe there was any, um, private residue hanging out in there because both Jace and myself are fastidious flushers, it appeared as though Jace may have thrown a piece of toilet paper in there as I had to clean Chico off and he did have tiny bits of decimated TP clinging to his hindquarters.

Not to mention, he is a rather little dog with big ears. This means he lost a lot of body heat and was shivering and starving when I fished him out. He went straight to his food bowl and growled viciously at Tango and Luna when they dared to venture too close. I cleaned him up, then snuggled him up, and my normal rather bouncy, lively pup has slept ALL EVENING.

He’s probably just exhausted from the ordeal. I’m just very thankful that he didn’t drown and that I wasn’t stuck at work for 12 hours today. It appears as though he stayed up on the side of the bowl, as much out of the water as possible, although since I’m not certain how long he was in there, he may have dried off a lot before I got home.

Tomorrow is my day off so of course I’m going in to work. I told Owner Boss’s Wife that I would bring Chico in to say hello and then RM called and asked if I would do two deliveries. I need the money so I said I would. I was going to be there anyway, might as well get paid for it. Then I’m coming home and the world can kiss my ass for a few hours. I need some sleep!

Good night!

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New Perspective

April 15, 2009 at 10:03 pm (Crazy Shit, Nate)

Well, if you want a new perspective, just blog about it and keep an open mind. I guess the most I can say about my last post is that I just wish I hadn’t waited so long. It is still a very difficult thing. Jeff called today and I didn’t answer the phone.

I really don’t want to talk to him while Nate is around. Truth is, I don’t want to talk to him at all. I know it will be the same ole shit. He either wants me to “help him” with something to worm his way in, or he wants to yell about Nate and how bad of a mother I am, or he wants to know if Nate is coming down this weekend. The answer to those scenarios are “no”, *click*, “no.”

However, I also don’t believe in just ignoring someone and hoping they will go away. I believe in facing them down. Nate’s school counselor suggested, well stated, that she didn’t believe Nate should be with him, but that it might be a good idea for us to have dinner together and try to keep the lines of communication open.

I thought that was pretty naive. She’s obviously never dealt with anyone like Jeff before and I don’t think he’s ever going to change. Change has to come from within, you have to want it, and you have to face all the things that have made you the way you are. If not, the thorns just keep festering and you keep dealing with them the same way you always have. Definition of insanity:  Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.

The one thing I have been concerned about is more for Nate’s well being than anything and that is that Jeff has three dogs. Two are rat terriers and one is an old snaggletooth mutt he got at the pound. Nate really loves those dogs and while I’ve been looking into different ways to socialize my son, I thought that maybe he did need a dog.

While I would LOVE to get a pound puppy, I’m afraid with my cats that I need a specific pound puppy. A real puppy, versus an elder dog. I really hate that. I would much prefer to get an older dog and something more along the lines of something a little larger than a housedog, but, given my schedule and so forth, a house dog that can use puppy pads on my long days would be preferable. Plus, I saw in our local Ad Bulletin that someone in one of my favorites places on Earth, Point Pleasant, has rat terriers for sale.

As we animal lovers know, sometimes the right pet can change your life. So, I’m going to call tomorrow and see about getting a little female, and then, we’ll see.

I appreciate all of your comments and they really made me think about how we all make mistakes and how we go about learning from those and moving on with a new purpose, or with our jaw’s set, as Zelda said. So, I’ve got my jaw set, and I know this is so because my TMJ is acting up. I just came off of two doubles and a short shift and I’m a little stressed with this whole Jeff thing. I was worried that he would call and he did, and I didn’t talk to him, so for now, we’re good.

One day at a time, sweet Mother, and may they keep getting better.

Oh yes, and every spare moment I’ve been watching Susan Boyle on YouTube. If you haven’t seen this lady singing on “Britain’s Got Talent” then where the hell have you been??? She has an absolutely amazing, stunning voice and she’s just a quaint character. She’s cute, in a matronly way, never been married, never been kissed and everyone thought she was some kind of joke. Well, she is not a joke. What a phenomenal singer. I cry everytime I listen to it. Enjoy.

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Inspiring?

April 12, 2009 at 12:49 am (Crazy Shit, Nate)

I received a rather nice e-mail from a lady only identified as “Sandy G.” Appears as though Sandy landed at Anything Goes from another blogroll and has since decided to read my archives and reached that point where I started password protecting some of my posts and e-mailed me for the password.

She said she found me honest and inspiring. The honest part I get. The inspring part had me scratching my head. I responded by saying that if you find me honestly saying, “I fucked up! Here’s how I going to fix it!” then hey, yeah, I’m inspiring! 

So, let’s be honest, I fucked up. I fucked up in a big way. I should have stopped Nate from seeing his father a long time ago. I’m a fairly intelligent person. I’ve been writing this blog for almost 5 years now. Anyone with two eyes and knack for reading comprehension can tell you… we’ve been in a cycle for all of those almost five years, until recently.

Actually, that cycle goes back even further, just not as bad. When the psychologists tell you that abuse gets worse, not better, with time, believe them. They really are telling you the truth.

When you find yourself recognizing the cycle of abuse – (tension/build up – abuse – honeymoon/calm) – it really is happening to you.

When they say the cycle becomes shorter in duration, its the truth.

When an abuser says they’re sorry and it will never happen again. It will happen again. I guarantee you, it will happen again.

It will happen to you.

It will happen to your children.

It will happen. Period.

And I know, that honeymoon period, its so seductive, so very seductive and hopeful, because you really believe THIS time, it won’t happen again.

And the abuser doesn’t just hurt your children, you hurt your children too.

I hurt Nate by allowing this to go on. Regardless of the steps that I have taken over the last two years, maybe before then, I still allowed him to be hurt. There’s not an excuse under the sun for that.  

So, I stopped talking to Jeff when he was drunk. So, he stopped seeing Nate when he was drunk. So what? Did that really change who he was when he was sober? No.

And as Nate and his sister have both taught me:  The good parts, the good memories, they don’t make up for all of the shit. Nothing makes up for the shit. Nothing. It poisons them. Period. And they loose their faith in you to protect them. And they loose faith in themselves.

So, that’s where I’m at. I have a brilliant child who is failing school, has no self-confidence, no self-esteem, can’t or won’t trust himself to make friends in school, won’t join the basketball team, won’t join his classmates on field trips, and enjoys lunch detention so he doesn’t have to deal with being social with his classmates.

And, not to knock Sandy, but I don’t find that very inspiring. I find that pretty fucking sad. Jeff didn’t get us where we are today. I did.

So what if he went to AA?  He quit.

So what if he has psychological problems and he’s on medication and he’s supposedly going to counseling?  So fucking what? Its obviously NOT WORKING!

So fucking what about HIM? This isn’t about HIM and HIS school and HIS plans and HIS issues, its about NATE, NATE, NATE, NATE!!!

He always hated that. He wanted all of the attention. He didn’t want to have to share any attention with his children. I can’t tell you the last time he called Nate’s cellphone to talk to Nate about Nate. He called MY cellphone, asked about Nate, then talked about himself for the next 20-25 minutes. Narcissistic fuck.

Well, that means I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. Obviously the discipline I’ve been doling out hasn’t been working so I’m going to have to change horses mid-stream. I have a lot of work to do with my son. I’ll let you know how that works out.

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WTF?!?!

April 10, 2009 at 7:55 pm (Crazy Shit, Nate, Work)

I just had a long ass post about how I just had to spend another $495 on my car (for a grand total of $806 in the past week), how Nate managed to fail more classes than ever before because he didn’t turn his homework in, how his teachers didn’t update the online site to let me know this until AFTER grades came out, and how some ASSHOLE has to have his $77,000 bank account balance told to him over the loudspeaker at the fucking bank, holding up traffic, and wasting my fucking time, and fucking WordPress eats it!!!

WTF?!?!

How about how after having my ass handed to me at the mechanics (fuel pump went out folks), and Nate’s bad grades, I didn’t really have much to eat, as in, less in a whole day what I normally eat at one meal, and then I had a delivery for the restaurant this morning so I missed family meal, and then it was really busy so I didn’t have a chance to eat and I’m so fucking hungry that I’m dizzy.

My people, I eat a lot of food. I eat so much food other people hate me. This is because I turn into Regan from The Exorcist when I don’t eat. I HAVE to eat and FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I WORK IN A FUCKING RESTAURANT!!!! Finally, I grab some leftover junk food from family meal and scarf it down along with Mountain Dew, which I NEVER drink. I only drink three things: Water, coffee, and booze. Drinking an occasional soda is a luxury for me. Today, it was a necessity.

Even after the junk food and the MD, I still wasn’t feeling great, but I still had to go pick up Nate from school, run back to the restaurant to get my paycheck (they don’t release them until 4 o’clock), go to the bank, and pay off my mechanic. Nate was thankful when we stopped to eat because I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around.

Plus, tips at the restaurant today were mostly not what I’m used to. I’m sure its because I was drooling on their food. Torture, pure torture.

Well, someone make sure and send me an e-mail… I had 25,999 the last time I checked. Do not adjust your screen, that is really the number of e-mails I have backlogged. I only have 19,136 that I haven’t read. Quick now, be #26,000!!!!

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Just Chillin’

April 8, 2009 at 5:57 pm (Crazy Shit, Nate, Work)

* Nate got in trouble in school for breathing on someone. No, really, literally, he breathed in someone’s face. I think this is disgusting and told him so.

* Judy is whipping my butt in Lexulous. I don’t really know what I’m doing.

* I joined Twitter. I don’t know what I’m doing on it either, but I joined!

* I need to clean out my fridge.

* Nate is turning into a grumpy young man. He has stretch marks on his legs from his growth spurt. His feet are huge compared to the rest of him. He’s 5’1″, weighs 98 lbs. and he wears a size 9 1/2 mens in his shoe. Comparatively, his foot is ginormous. Not surprised. He came out with big feet.

* They fired one of the servers day before yesterday. I had worked a double on Monday so our bartender could have the day off and then she picked up my Tuesday, so I would have had Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday off, but it was not meant to be. I picked up Thursday after they fired the other server.

* The server they fired was not Rosie, the Broadway Musical gay guy I work with. I was happy that Maribee picked today up instead of him. He’s nice, but gah, is he talkative. And really, its about shit I don’t care to discuss  because I really don’t care that he’s an atheist, or that he’s gay, or whether or not gays should be allowed to marry (don’t care, go ahead and get married!).

Honestly, gay rights is not at the forefront of my thoughts. I think they should have the same rights as everyone else. That pretty much covers it all, at least, you would think.

There is an interesting court case going on right now in WV about a lesbian couple who petitioned to adopt a child they have been caring for since birth. The child was born addicted and they took this child home from the hospital, the parental rights of the parents have been terminated, and they petitioned to adopt said child. However, lesbian and gay couples cannot adopt in the State of West Virginia. A single lady can, but not a gay/lesbian couple.

So, the judge ordered the child removed and then the child was put back with them. The child has bonded with her mothers, bonded with the other children in the home, and the court was just stupid. If they’re good enough to be foster parents, they’re good enough to be parents. No, I don’t care what their sexual orientation is.

I hope they get that mess straightened out and we don’t make the national news again for being ignorant. Barbie Bill anyone? Ugh.

* Things are working out well in picking up Nate from school. Monday he rode the bus to T-Bird’s and the rest of this week I’ll be able to pick him up myself.

* I did speak with Nate’s father yesterday. It did not go well. It will never go well again. I’m drained.

* Nine weeks to go for Nate’s 7th grade schoolin’.  Please, let us make it another 9 weeks. Please, Nate, get your butt in gear and pass the 7th grade.

* Nate is going to be starting counseling soon.

* Nate has a doctor’s appointment next week.

* Nate has to have braces.

* Nate = $$$$$$$$

* I’m going to need a new car.

* New car = $$$$$$$

* And people wonder why I work so much!!!!!

I think I need a nap.

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I Am Most Lethal…

April 4, 2009 at 1:12 am (Attitude in Overdrive, Crazy Shit, Nate, Relationships)

When I am calm (and verbose, this is a long one). If you ever encounter me in a situation where I should be spitting nails, gouging people’s eyes out with a hot poker, and shouting obscenities with my head spinning around yet I am popping pistachios instead of  Xanax and eating ice cream, well, you can then say, “Poke her, she’s done.”

Most people, I think, would prefer that I be the obscenity spewing, head spinning, nail spitting crazy bitch, because, you get a real feel of where I’m coming from. Pistachio popping and ice cream eating normally leaves people wondering what the hell is going on. Maybe that’s why I do it. Its the secretive dark side.

Then again, it could be because I prefer life on THIS side of the iron bars.

Honestly, its because I’m so angry that I’ve had to shut down in order to prevent serious bloodshed, nail spitting, eye gouging… etc. etc. It makes me exceptionally clear-headed and focused.

It all started with Nate lying to his dad about his homework. Now, if Nate didn’t lie (by omission – “I can’t remember if I have homework” or “I’m not sure what homework I have”) then I would take his temperature because my son is sick if he isn’t trying to dodge homework. This is Nate, this is Nate on school, 36 weeks out of the year.

Nate didn’t actually lie to his dad, he told his dad the truth, then lied to his uncle and his uncle’s girlfriend who he was staying with while Jeff was at school and I was at work. Naturally, and understandably, this made Jeff very angry when he returned from school.

I called up and Jeff told me what was going on, then said it was probably a good thing I was coming to pick him up, then called back and asked that I not because Nate should finish his homework there first. That sounded reasonable and actually a bit mature. However, I was also concerned given Jeff’s short, short fuse with dealing with Nate on homework.

I then received a “distress” TM from Nate. It said, “Help.” This could mean many things. I believe that a parent should have authority over their children without interference from the other parent, especially given our situation where we live in two different households. I wasn’t going to rush down and “save” Nate simply because his dad was being a hardass about him doing his homework.

Nate shouldn’t have lied. He should have done his homework. Tough love is  just that – tough love.

Following the third distress TM, I thought better of any nobility and called Jeff. He seemed to be holding it together fairly well. I could tell he was getting more agitated and he bitched me out because he said this was so aggravating and he didn’t need the aggravation of dealing with Nate and his homework. Surprise! That’s part of being a parent to Nate. To any child, aggravation and all. He then backpedaled and said that he was as much to blame because he doesn’t regularly and consistently check Nate’s bookbag, binder, or assignment book.

I thought this was a step in the right direction. Instead of just blaming me, he was shouldering some of the responsibility for the aggravations of child-rearing. Things sounded rather chill, so I hung up and cleaned out the junk in my car.

Jeff called back and all hell broke loose. He was on a rampage. I started the car and began the short, but ever so long drive to pick up Nate. I can’t verbatim tell you the entire conversation. The most important part for me was, “Since I can’t euthanize Nate, I’m going to kill these damn dogs, because he loves these damn dogs and I don’t need the aggravation!”  He repeated over and over that he was going to kill his dogs (two Rat Terriers and an old mutt) and then was going to take pictures of their decomposing bodies laying over a hillside as birds picked their eyes out.

People, I can’t make this shit up.

At some point I called him a sick, insane fucker and told him he had finally dropped off the deep end and what the fuck was he thinking? I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t even form coherent sentences at one point. My thoughts were with my son and my heart was heavy, especially knowing what he and I had experienced with the loss of our pets two years ago. It made the situation even more heinous and evil, if that’s even possible.

Oddly, I had no fear, no knotting sensation in the pit of my stomach, I wasn’t trembling, crying, or even yelling. I walked into the lair of the viper without nary a worry in my heart about what would happen or what I would say. I didn’t say anything, I just looked at him while he spewed hateful degrading words at me and all I could think was, “Wow, so that’s what you really think of yourself.” I just looked at him and shook my head, gathered my child, what things I could, and we left.

Nate gave me a rundown of what had happened and the homework he had finished, which really wasn’t supposed to be finished until the following day, and then the letter he wrote his dad begging him not to kill the dogs. I was very calm, logical, and methodical as I pointed out to Nate that whatever happened with the dogs was not his fault, that his dad was using his feelings to manipulate, control, and harm him and that what he was saying and doing was completely unacceptable.

This really doesn’t help when your child is sobbing uncontrollably.

Nate’s sister was waiting for us when we got home and of course he told her everything that happened. Her mom looked at me and said, “You know, you can’t let him go back.” I said, “I know.” She asked me, “Why are you so calm?!?”

I said, “Because I’ve made up my mind.”

I had long talk with Nate about everything, including his lying to his uncle and the appropriate consequences, and about his dad and what his dad said etc.

Nate told me, “I bet he shows up at school tomorrow.”

I told Nate that if he did and tried to take Nate off of school property he was not to go anywhere with him and he was to call me.

The following day I went to pick Nate up from school and he came out and said, “I told you he would show up.”

What had happened was that Jeff has sent me a TM a little after 1:00 in the afternoon. I recognized it as a forwarded message and I knew it was from Nate’s sister. I can tell almost verbatim what it said:  I never want to see your face again. You are an asshole. I can’t believe what you do to your children.

I knew that she had gone home from school early that day because she was upset over this situation. I also knew that Nate’s phone was at my house. Jeff had gone to the school on the pretext that Nate and his sister were TMing each other during school hours.

Whether he was trying to cover his ass or felt true remorse he told Nate’s Vice-Principal  and school counselor what he had said to Nate the previous night. I asked Nate what happened after that and he said, “They agreed with him.” WTF?!?

I talked to my friend Juan later than night and he said, “It doesn’t matter if they agree with him or not, it only matters if they will write it down and testify to it in court.” 

I let T-Bird do all the yelling, nail spitting, and obscenity spewing and so forth over the very idea that anyone would agree with this man. I still remained calm.

I went with Nate to school the following morning and when I walked into the office I saw his counselor. She looked up and said, “Oh, let me get another cup of coffee.” I’m sure she was waiting for me. Its not like we don’t know each other. I’ve been to the school several times about Nate. Luckily, we have a good relationship.

I got the ball rolling by telling her that Nate had told me that Jeff had been there and that he had told them what he had said to Nate and that they agreed with it. Her eyes flew open and she said, “NOT AT ALL!”  (Note: When Nate is under severe distress he remembers about every fifth word in the wrong order. He said he was so sick to his stomach he thought he might throw up. I can’t even begin to imagine the stress he was under at the time, which is exactly why I went in to find out the whole story.)

She then went on to describe what all had happened, including having a counseling session with Nate and his dad regarding appropriate discipline and obviously after Nate left, she had talked further with Jeff and he had cried and said he was going to call his counselor and he didn’t understand why he got so angry and why he can’t control his temper.

I filled her in on Jeff. The alcoholism, the PTSD, the police department, on and on. I told her that I recognized the cycle we were in, that I had taken steps to break that cycle (re: hanging up when he was drunk, not letting Nate around him until he was sober, etc.), but, it wasn’t enough. I told her that regardless of his problems that he was not my concern. My concern had been torn between trying to encourage Jeff to deal with his problems, facilitating a relationship between him and Nate, and working with Nate on everything.

No more. My only concern is Nate. Nate is 12, his father is 44. Nate is my son and I’m here to protect and nuture him, not subject him to any more insanity under the guise of fairness and relationship building. Jeff is dead weight. He is severely mentally ill and has ruined every relationship in his life.

I’m not saying that Nate will never see Jeff again. I’m certain that he will, but it will be under completely different circumstances. Jeff may or may not be getting help. He may have scared himself or he may just be looking for pity. I’ve given up caring what he says or what he promises. Honestly, he’ll have to let me talk to his counselor, who I’ve known since grade school, before I’ll let him have Nate overnight or even be alone with him.

It will be a long time. It may never be until Nate is old enough and emotionally strong enough to walk away on his own two feet if his dad starts being emotionally and verbally abusive.

I don’t think he’ll fight me on it, then again, I didn’t think he would walk into Nate’s school and admit what a crazy fuck he is either. However, by doing so, regardless of the reason, he gave me what I needed. Independent adult verification of what he did, from his own mouth.

Before, all I had was my word and the word of my 12 year old and his sister. I’ll also be getting some electronics to be able to record conversations for future reference. Just in case.

And so you know, I have not spoken to Jeff since I hung the phone up last Tuesday. I don’t plan on speaking to him until this coming Tuesday and that will be to retrieve what belongings Nate has at his house. If he declines, he declines. It doesn’t matter to me. I would prefer not talking to him at all. I don’t want to talk to him, I want nothing to do with him. I may not. I may leave the clothes, buy Nate a new Nintendo DS and a new Pokemon Platinum and call it a wash.

Yeah, I may just do that. I know its too much to hope that he will just be too ashamed to call. I know its too much to hope that he saw the finality in the look on my face. Oh, I know too well, it wasn’t. It never will be. But none of that matters anymore.

What matters is helping my son have healthy relationships, building friendships, building his self-esteem, and overcoming the pain in constructive and positive ways. That’s all I can do.

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April 2, 2009 at 10:44 am (Crazy Shit, Nate, Work)

RM and I had a nice chat outside on Monday. He apologized and really put his best foot forward in attempting to convince me that he really wants to help and I really need to let him help me, even when I don’t need it.

And I really wasn’t trying to be contentious when I told him to just stay out of my way and I’ll let him know when I need him. Then he said that he really needed something to do to earn his paycheck and that I should let him help me and I said I would let him know when I needed anything and we just kept going around in the fashion and didn’t really solve anything other than: we’re going to have to work together and compromise.

Hey, at least we know what our destination is. No clue how we’re going to get there, but we DO have a destination.

*****

Jeff has once again reared his ugly head and I’m rather calm about the whole thing. It was ugly, but I kept my cool. I will continue to keep my cool and I’m going to bury him. Thank you Juan, my sagacious friend, for your timely and very good advice.  I appreciate it very, very much.

*****

I’m supposed to have a local blog meet tomorrow. Here’s to hoping my car needs the MINIMUM amount of work and I can make our appointment. I have to stop by Nate’s school, then go to the car appointment, then hope to meet up with Blonde Goddess and Evil Twin’s Wife, then pick up Nate from school two hours early because the teacher’s have to get their grades ready, or something like that. I probably should pay my car insurance tomorrow as well, among other bills. Gah.

*****

Business has been slow with the changing of the seasons. Blech. However, my attitude has improved with the sunnier days. Hooray!

*****

I forgot to post this but that is okay because I was just outside, watching the birds on the power lines and thought of Hoss and said, “Rabbit, rabbit, a day late, Hoss.”  Miss you buddy.

grey-rabbit

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Sometimes I Don’t Say Much

March 29, 2009 at 9:41 pm (Attitude in Overdrive, Crazy Shit, Work)

This can be a problem. You would think that keeping my mouth shut would keep me out of trouble, but is the exact thing that got me into trouble. Sort of.

Something happened at work. I can’t say I was entirely right about the situation, but I can also say I wasn’t mostly to blame. I will say that I was so angry that I was shaking and crying and had to continually tell myself to breath and override my desperate desire to drop my apron and quit on the spot.

Restaurant Manager’s sparkling blue eyes stopped holding any appeal for me about a week after he started, maybe a little more. We had a minor run-in a couple of days ago, but yesterday, it was more like a major collision.

Unfortunately, I tend to be very persistent and I’m not really afraid to question or to even point out a more logical course of action. Most of the time I just throw my hands in the air or shrug and move on with it because its not worth it to try and have an intellectual conversation with an unarmed person.

Of course, I thought of my friend Juan who says  I should examine my own feelings as to why something upsets me. Well, its because he reminded me of Jeff. Overbearing, interrupting, illogical, everything, right down to the booze on his breath. Except, given that he is my boss and this incident was instigated by him in front of my co-workers and guests, I can also say he’s unprofessional and when I tried to diffuse the situation by acquiescing and saying, “Okay. Its whatever you want,” and attempting to walk away, he dogged me, telling me not to walk away from him, etc. etc.

Well, far be it for me to just shut my mouth. The sky didn’t fall, tsunamis didn’t swallow New York, and the moon didn’t crack in half so you know I didn’t keep my mouth shut.

One part of our conversation just completely flabbergasted me. He said I should have asked my table if they wanted tartar or remoulade with their crab cakes so that we wouldn’t waste money on taking it out to the table if they didn’t want it. My response, “But you took the order.”  Which was the God’s honest truth.

I normally do try and ask my guests what they want for burgers and fish and crab, because then I’m not wasting time running back to get it. Sometimes I forget, but I’m only human. I wasn’t trying to irritate him when he asked if remoulade normally goes out with it, because I had never served one before. I assume its whether or not the guest wants it and frankly, I had my mind on the table that was being sat, not whether or not the folks at another table wanted sauces. I would take them out, if they did, they did, if they didn’t, then on my next trip back to the kitchen I would bring them back.

Anyway, things just escalated from there. It moved on to how I see him as the enemy and how I’m always contentious, except he can’t use big words like “contentious.”

When I talked to GM about it, I also pointed out there was another incident, in which I felt he was purposefully just getting in my way. I felt as though he was provoking me into a confrontation. I even verbalized to him that I was very frustrated with him and his actions. He responded by saying that I was frustrating him and he was only trying to help while I kept reiterating that I didn’t need his help.

Of course, one problem is is that I won’t back down especially if I feel that I’m right or that I’m being wronged. Even if I momentarily acquiesce to keep the peace at that point, I will revisit it later if I feel the need to bring closure to a subject or to receive more clarification of what is expected of me.

I also told my GM that that had it not been for the respect that I have for her and Owner Boss’s wife, I would have walked. I’ve never walked on a job before, and I don’t intend on starting now.

What I really, really hated, is how it affected me and how it is so very hard for me to hide my feelings. I wear them all over my face. Luckily, there were some regulars there and knew something was going down but it doesn’t change the fact it should have never happened and it shouldn’t have affected anything. I shouldn’t have been hiding in the wine closet, drying my angry tears, trying to still my hands from shaking, and giving myself a pep talk to just keep breathing, keep moving.

I hate that.

Please don’t cry one tear for me

I’m not afraid of what I have to say

This is my one and only voice

So listen close, its only for today ( from Second Chance)

Alive,
Thats how I want you to feel tonight.
Live,
You’re only here once, so do it well.
Find your own way to rise up and
Give ’em hell.
There is no reason to wonder if you
Should go.
Tell them you can’t be bottled,
So break your silence and tell them
Who you are.
‘Cause they’re all witness to a shooting star.

Who cares?
He’s there to stare and
Tell you how to look.
I’m not even sure they know
You by name.
Who cares?
He’s there to share what they
Think of you.
Everybody in there plays the
Same fucking games.

[Chorus]
Alright, alright, alright,
You’re such an energy.
Alright, alright, alright,
You’re such an energy.
Let me see your fire,
Put your fist up in the air.

Tell me, are you feeling strong enough?
Tell me, ’cause all eyes are on you now.  (from Energy)

Thank you, Shinedown.

The good news is, I think we can work this out. I don’t think he shouldn’t give me direction, I just think he should let me do my job and if he has constructive criticism, then I’m all about that… when I’m not in the middle of working and he’s respectful. I may respect his position, but I’m very far from respecting him.

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I Wish My Vet Sold Stock

March 8, 2009 at 12:34 am (Cats, Crazy Shit)

Yes, my friends, another chapter in the saga of Jirachi, our beloved but oft sick kitty.  Since having his abscess drained, little Jirachi was thriving, gaining weight, beautiful coat, and although still sneezing copious amounts of snot, Little Man was definitely on the mend and on his way to getting neutered and living a long, happy life.

Then Jirachi developed diarrhea. Jack and Tango made themselves at home in the garbage can and of course, Jirachi was the only one who got sick from eating our cast-offs. Now, long hair and diarrhea don’t mix. So, instead of just following him around wiping his nose, I had also resorted to wiping his ass. “Dingleberries” doesn’t even come close to what Jirachi was experiencing.

He developed a “Poopcake” or “Poop pancake” on his butt. This was not pleasant for any of us involved. A) He didn’t like it because, really, who wants to carry around a poopcake and B) I didn’t like it because it STUNK WITH THE INTENSITY OF A THOUSAND ROTTING CARCASSES. So, I snipped and manipulated and eventually said poopcake was removed during the regular course of litterbox business.

I had also started Jirachi on some food which was supposed to help the poop situation. A mixture of pumpkin, chicken, and rice, which all of my cats love and is supposed to be very good for their bowels and poop. Well, it started working, but not before Jirachi developed another poopcake.

This one was a different beast than the previous one. It wasn’t a poopcake, it was a poopROCK! He also began fussing with me, scratching, biting and generally trying to kill me when I would mess with it so I knew something was going on there. On top of that, the pumpkin/rice/chicken diet was really working. His stool firmed up quite nicely, except now he couldn’t get it out because of the pooprock.

I had planned on taking him to the vet on Monday, but this evening when I came home and felt the base of his tail, I knew he had poo in there that wasn’t coming out and knew we had reached critical mass (no pun intended), as well as my concerns about what was going on UNDERNEATH the pooprock because of the change in Jirachi’s demeanor and distress with any clipping of hair and fussing with the pooprock.

I took him to the Emergency Clinic and they took him back and within a minute came out to tell me they were going to have to sedate him. I figured as much as Jirachi is my love bug – takes his medicine without a fight, wants love all the time – and when I couldn’t get him to lay still, I pretty much figured they weren’t going to either.

Well, it was pretty bad. Not as bad as it could have been, said the vet, but bad enough. Poop is acidic and what Jirachi had underneath the pooprock is probably the worst case of extreme diaper rash I’ve ever seen, but worse. Much worse.

Before the pooprock, Jirachi still had a nice set of balls, now he barely has a scrotum left. When they neuter him, they will probably have to remove what is left of the scrotum. Literally, his skin was eaten away by the acids in the poop. This happened in three to four days. His ass is raw but the scrotum just looks fucking painful. He’s pititful. Just fucking pitiful.

I walked in and was just sickened by my poor pitiful Little Man as they were cleaning him up. The vet said he still had an anus, which is good, because she said she has seen it where the acids eat all the way to the actual opening of the bowels. He’ll probably have some poop problems until he heals completely but if we keep him good and clean he should be okay.

The good news is, he had a normal bowel movement after the removal, duh, he was full of shit, and I’m hopeful that if I continue him on his chicken/rice/pumpkin diet, that it will act like a stool softener and keep the pain at a minimum.  To his credit, he’s sitting beside of me, after getting lots of love, licking his ass. He’s still a little groggy from the sedation but has only fallen off of the chair twice so far and is purring and loving like nothing ever happened.

We’ll see what happens when I have to bathe him and put Neosporin on his scrotum, yeah, then we’ll see. At least he doesn’t stink with the intensity of a thousand rotting carcasses anymore AND… believe it not, whatever bug he got that gave him diahrrea, it killed the other virus that made him snot and sneeze all the time. I shit you not.

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