Enjoy the Ride...I'm Trying To...

One would think that after a four-hour delay it would be easy to fall asleep on an airplane and especially after a four-day New Orleans extravaganza.  However, at this moment I had two choices of what to do; either twirl my hair mercilessly or watch my boyfriend's head two rows ahead of me bob and weave and eventually come to rest on his neighbor's shoulder while he slept (i.e., the poor bastard who was lucky enough to sit in the middle seat on said flight).  I first opted for the hair twirling, but my carpal tunnel was acting up so I stared so long at the bob and weave that I started seeing trails.  These two options lasted me an entire fifteen minutes of entertainment.  So this brings me to you because apparently typing on the "notes" section of ones iPhone passes the time rather quickly.  No lie, it really did make the hellish trip go by relatively fast.

I opened up the notes section of my phone to read what I had written.  It was straight up pitiful, but that's okay because it was 12:57 in the morning after four days of awesome goodness filled with plenty of laughter, drinks and best friend goodness a girl could ever ask for.  So I'm coming home from an amazingly fun vacation where new friends and new memories were made.  However, I'm begging these memories to flood my sleep-deprived brain but they don't take pity on me.  I'm coming up on the realization that I left town a mere 12 hours after I received the news of my exhusband telling me the "friend" he cheated on me with was pregnant.  I should re-word that because it doesn't read quite just right.  Ooh, ooh, I missed a couple of words -- six months pregnant.  Apparently, I missed the memo where it says being the last to know is the "in" thing nowadays.  Do not fret because this isn't anything to be jealous over.  Those of you who have been reading my super fun-filled-not-so-much drama may not be surprised at this new twist, and to be honest with you, neither am I because the "cheating" was the reason behind the divorce after all.  I'll have to admit here, however, that the time frame was a little bit much to take it, swallow and not vomit (which I did successfully mind you - the not vomiting part).

Do not get me wrong friends because I have much to be thankful for.  I am in a good place overall in this "My So-Called Life" series you have tuned into.  I have a job that I can say I truly enjoy after being in my field for about 16 years.  I have absolutely amazing and funny ass and supportive friends.  I have a kind and thoughtful and adorable guy who is still hanging around despite all the excess baggage I'm carrying.  The reason for my sadness -- this is not the life I envisioned for my children.

Jillian is old enough that she feels disappointment and sadness over this situation.  I'd love to tell you I'm above all this shit, but I have zero desire to continue to encourage a relationship between her and her (ex)stepfather at this point.  I'd never stop her, but I know she feels a sting inside.  However, the positive I am grabbing from this situation is that in the past six or seven months her father has been playing a more active role in her life.  For this reason, I am grateful that the heartache I dealt with brought her to a better place with her dad.  I guess I'll take that and run with it.

I feel sad for Andrew because I am scared his father will play a less active role in his life.  I understand that I cannot worry about something that isn't happening in the present, something that is not happening right before my eyes, but I cannot turn away from something that tugs at my heart.  In complete honesty, however, I am frightened for the heartbreak that will eventually come when the boy is old enough to put two and two together, do the math and come in contact with some sadness or anger or resentment towards his father.  I'm a realist and while I am aware this may not happen, I'm pretty positive that there will come that day that changes my son's heart in a way, and no matter how little it changes him, it will change him and this breaks my heart.

Again, I didn't envision this life for my children, and maybe it won't play out this way.  It's not something I will ever know until it happens.  Regardless, my thinking about it now, while it won't make it any easier to handle should it happen, makes me stand a little bit taller knowing that my kids are the last thing I think about before I go to bed.  Being that realist, I know it is not my duty to protect my children from the cruelty of the "real world" but rather to prepare them for it.  However, this does not comfort my heart when I think about the possibilities that lie ahead for them.

I guess in the end -- no, not guess, but know -- I know in the end that while this is not my doing, not my fuck up, not my fault, I am beyond pissed that I am forced to be involved in a situation that is out of my hands. I hold no responsibility in the fact that my exhusband was an absolute dumbass and let himself get into this situation.  However, I'm a bit salty that because of his fuck up I am going to be forced to pick up any pieces that may fall at the feet of my children.  I'm far from innocent in causing any therapy sessions I may have to pay for in the future, but this one tops them all.  I am pretty sure I could handle it better if it were my fuck up, but I can't help but be resentful that I have to deal with someone else's fuck up.

So in moving forward, I will continue to focus on all that I have gained in my divorce and not on what I lost.  If I sit and think about it, I have lost so much in my divorce, and all that I lost was negativity, sadness, heartache.  Instead, I will focus on all that I have gained, and all that I have surrounding me -- people that truly care for me, love me in some way, and only want the best for me and my children.  I cherish these people more than I could put into words because the words would never touch the depth of my gratitude. 

A Post Filled with Profanity is the Only Way I Roll...

I have two children who are such ungrateful little assbags.  You know I made you feel better by saying out loud exactly what you've thought on at least one occasion (although my money is on "more than one").  Besides getting the usual regular life shit like a roof over their heads or a bureau full of new spring and summer clothes or a fridge full of food so that they can bitch to everyone within earshot that they're soooo hungry, they get things like *gasp* birthday party fun with their friends even though it's completely out of my way to go and grab one kid at her dad's house and bring her back to her dad's house on a day that isn't even mine or let's not forget about carting asses around to playgrounds and school dances and playdates and sleepovers and insert here any other pain in the ass thing I do for them just so I can hopefully get a smile at the end of the day.

Therefore, I don't think it's too fucking hard to entertain your asses for an hour while I begrudgingly mow the goddamn lawn.  You would have thought I took a hatchet to my daughter's ankle and left her bleeding in the backyard while I sipped on wine and laughed and pointed at her when I asked her to play with her brother while I did my chores on a shit ass Monday nonetheless.  Instead of slapping the look right off her face, I asked her if she would like to mow the lawn.  You can guess what the answer to that question was.  So, in true pre-teen fucking fashion what does she do; if you said played lovingly with her brother and they both played ring around the fucking rosie and laughed when they all fucking fell down, you're wrong.  I suppose she thought by tormenting her brother and causing him to hit her and yell at her that would make me stop doing said mowing of the goddamn lawn and play fucking trucks.  She was wrong. 

Rather, let me share with you the truth of my reality on this wonderful sunny spring afternoon.  I ripped the earbuds from my ears, stopped the mower and proceeded to not-so-kindly yell across the lawn, "Is it really ALL THAT HARD to play, you know, like kids do, without punching each other or teasing each other or throwing trucks at each other?!  It would be REALLY FREAKIN' FANTASTIC if you would STOP. IT. NOW BEFORE I FREAK OUT!" 

Oh yeah, let me get to the very best part; the part where I slam the earbuds back in my ears, pull the cord to the mower while saying for fucks sakes already, start pushing the fucking lawnmower with a scowl on my face and stare horrifyingly at the two elderly ladies going for a nice stroll down my dead end street.  It was either turn my ass around and pretend I didn't see them or wave like a sweet bitch, but before I can decide what to do, I see before me two ladies who clearly felt my pain because they smiled and waved and gave each other that all knowing look of moms who have been there, done that. *sigh*

I am pleased to announce that the two bags of asses that are my children did stop the fighting shit for the rest of the time.  I have no goddamn idea why because that's not the first time they've been in trouble, but I don't question when small miracles happen right before my eyes.  I accept it and move on to the next fucking chore that I have to do and know that I'll make up for it and be awesome in another mom way the very next chance I get.