Category Archives: Chat

Letting go

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My husband asked me to write a blog about him, about who he was. I am not sure what he wants from me. Validation on who he thinks he has become or was, perspective through someone else’s eyes. How ever it feels like a daunting task. I don’t do well with a set goal or subject. Especially a subject that may not like what he reads.

July 2008 this guy shows up in my driveway, a guy I hadn’t seen in a decade and literally picks me up and plants one hell of a kiss on me. He was cocky, self assured, egotistical, honestly kind of a douche. But maybe the most charismatic douche I had ever met. He wasn’t how I remembered him but I also don’t think talking was our strong suit in the past. I had never laughed so hard in my life, I was instantly in love. Initially I am pretty sure I just had that new feeling that he was enamored with. And then life became complicated quick and it was all about rescuing me. See my husband is like a woman in that aspect. He is a fixer. And I needed fixing okay I needed saving.

In the beginning he made it clear that skating was everything. That where other girls had failed him in the past I needed to understand he would never love me as much as his skateboard. No seriously it was him, a part of him, the most important part of him. Skating, the relationships and memories he had from it were everything. That piece of wood on wheels had given him something he had never really had. Security, a foundation, he was part of something. I got it and had no qualms with being second.

Over the years his priorities shifted, his friends moved on, dreams involving this piece of wood faded away. He struggled with letting go, moving on. He was losing his identity. And this has been his hardest struggle. See he is no longer defined by an inanimate object. Which is scary. To be invested in people, people who may leave you, and most certainly will disappoint you. Who you may disappoint.

He misses making those memories on that piece of wood. He misses the friendships that he built. The freedom it gave him.

Is my husband still egotistical, yes. Is he still cocky, yes. Self assured, sure his self esteem has taken a beating. But I see a man who loves deeper, who hurts deeper, who wants more not just for himself. I see a father, a good father. I see a man who doesn’t put an inanimate object first but his family. Who realizes there is more to life than just kickflips.

My husband needs to find a balance, a bridge between his past and his present. He needs to make new memories, build new relationships. He needs to let go of disappointment, of who he once was. He needs to realize he is no longer defined by an inanimate object. Once he does he might actually enjoy those kickflips again.

He is a father, a husband, a friend, a man who happens to also skate.

AAA

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Music soothes the soul

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For every defining moment in my life there was a song made just for that time and place. Maybe that is why I love the movie High Fidelity so much. The score told the story.

When I was younger I would sit on my front porch blasting Concrete Blonde’s Joey that I taped off the radio. I was a young girl trying to carry the heaviness of a parent suffering from alcoholism. That song was my escape, it understood me, it knew me.

I know you’ve heard it all before, so I don’t say it anymore, I just stand by and let you fight your secret war.

My first love and heartbreak would have me finding solace in Soft Cell’s version of Tainted Love. I swore I would never feel that way again, not that I even understood what I was feeling.

The love we share seems to go nowhere, and I’ve lost my light, for I toss and turn I can’t sleep at night.

The moment I realized I couldn’t love someone enough. The Foo Fighter’s February Stars softly hummed from his car speakers. He demanded answers and I had none.

I’m hanging on here until I’m gone, I’m right where I belong, just hanging on

The birth of my second child would also be accompanied by The Foo Fighter’s, this time All My Life

Will I find something in that, so give me what I need, another reason to bleed

The liberation of Samantha would be fueled by the sounds of Oh Laura’s It Ain’t Enough. Never had a song described my emotions, my life so perfectly. That song was me, it was my life, a tragedy of my own doing. I listened to it over and over until it played in my head every moment of the day.

You come home in the evening with whiskey on your breath, I dream about leaving but I wake up with regrets.
The dinner that I made you is covered up with mold, hey you don’t need to tell me that this is getting old.

The first taste of real love and lust. You know the all consuming kind that can only result in a $500 dollar cellphone bill. The minutes God forbid hours apart were tortuous. It was like being a teenager again. I was intoxicated by his smell, the way moved, his incessant talking. Only Cutting Crew’s I Just Died in your Arms tonight knew how we felt.

I just died in your arms tonight, It must’ve been some kind of kiss, I should’ve walked away

The pain from repeated loss was more than I could bear. I put all of my feelings into one place. The sound of Johnny Paycheck singing She’s All I Got would unleash a fury of emotions. It was everything I wasn’t, all I could ever give which wasn’t enough. It signified my failings. My love felt worthless. How could I ever be enough for him?

She is life, when I wanna live, she’s everything to me in life that life can give

I could give you more moments, more songs, how long do we really want this blog to be. I will leave you with this moment, today…….

And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me, shine until tomorrow, let it be

Dear John

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Dear John umm er I mean Matt,

I regret to inform you that my heart now thinks of another. I never thought I could love another fella. Sure the love is different but there none the less. I find myself thinking about his smile, the way he laughs, the cute way he curls my hair around his fingers. The way he smells. You were right another fella has stolen my affections. I can’t help it. Can you blame me, look at this dude. 18 pounds of nothing but love!
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The mundane……

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4am Conrad cries, I plead for him to go back to sleep. I try the pacifier. He spits it out. I try the pacifier again. He spits it out. I stumble into the kitchen and fumble around in the dark. I attempt to be quiet since Matt is asleep on the couch but I keep dropping everything. I mumble something to myself about selling Conrad to the gypsies.

Conrad eats and promptly spits up on me. Two minutes later he is fast asleep.

6:30am Morgan enters the room complaining of stomach pains, or a headache, or she is too tired, she wants toast, August won’t let her in the bathroom, I need to sign her agenda, can they get a ride, will I wake up Matt.

I pee.

I threaten children with death for yelling in the hallway.

I go back to sleep.

Some time between 7am and 9am Penny cries and or Libby cries to which I find one or both diaper  less. On good days it is only pee, on okay days it is only one covered in poop, and on bad days they both are covered in poop.

I clean them up, give them some milk, and turn on Scooby Doo or Looney Toons or whatever cartoon they dig at the time.

10am Conrad wakes up. I stumble back into the kitchen no longer even trying to be quiet.

I feed Conrad, depending on the twins I either get up or attempt another hour of sleep.

11am I down my first of 4-5 cups of coffee. I watch the news.

I make breakfast for the twins, there is throwing, occasionally some choking, always some crying, and more food on the floor than in their mouths.

Sometime around noon Conrad is hungry again. Penelope has climbed a crib. Liberty is wandering around collecting various toys and non toy items. There is throwing, maybe some biting or hair pulling, and always more crying.

Matt wrestles some babies, teaches Penny to growl, and then we practice our bye byes. There is crying. Daddy leaves. Mommy bribes them with cookies or applesauce pouches, maybe a raspberry to the belly.

Mid afternoon nap time, maybe one out of 3, maybe 2, but never all 3. I attempt laundry, maybe the dishes, rarely a shower.

Twins are up, they are hungry. Where is August?

Sometime between 3 and 5pm the girls come home. There is yelling, fighting, always crying.

They pilfer through the fridge and cupboards. I inquire if they eat at school. Morgan always wants something ridiculous like cookies or pie.

I yell about chores and helping. The kids scramble. I attempt to cook. Connie is crying. The twins are fighting. Not an older child in sight.

Sometime between 6 and 7pm they eat dinner. Well only Ramsey eats the other two complain. August just pushes it around her plate. Morgan complains she is full. Then 5 minutes after dinner wants a cookie.

The twins get a bath, then it is bed. Where they take turns yelling or dancing in their cribs. Libby usually falls asleep first. If we are lucky Penny is asleep by 11. On bad nights one or both we find diaper less, someone is covered in poop.

Conrad is hungry I no longer know what time it is. But it is too late for the girls to be up and watching American Dad. “Ramsey change the damn channel wait GO TO BED”

Matt comes home, either I am super wife and he has a 2 course meal or I am bad wife and he is eating the San Francisco treat! That he prepares himself loudly.

Sometime around 11pm we attempt a movie. Usually something awful like Creep Van or Nazi Zombies from the Center of the Earth.

Maybe we have sex. Depending on the time that is an early night so we are in bed by 1am.

Sleep

2am Penny cries, I let Matt handle it.

4am Conrad cries……….

 

This is growing up

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My oldest daughter will turn 13 in little over a month. She was the catalyst into adulthood for me. I was 19 when I found out I was pregnant. I had just left a relationship or heck was maybe still in it when I started a dalliance with her father. I missed my period and of course panic had set in. I peed on a stick and nothing happened. It was very anti-climatic. So I tossed it in the trash and scurried off with friends to see The Blair Witch Project. Turns out what I found in my trash was way scarier than some movie with a snot covered chick running around in the woods.

It was a big fat positive. A late night phone call to the help line on the back of the box and 12 test later I resigned myself to the fact that I was indeed pregnant. I would then marry her father in some sad attempt to give her the life I never had.

When in fact I gave her almost exactly the life I had. I was a baby with a baby. Who then had more babies to fill the void in my life.

Her first year I was terrified like most parents. I once had a dream that I had put her in an oven and of course was panicked because babies do not go in ovens. I would have this reoccurring dream where my mother let her crawl off the side of a cliff and all I could do was watch it powerless. I am not sure what they meant. Maybe they meant I was scared of messing up. Maybe I wasn’t ready and I felt out of control.

I was an over bearing mother her first two years. I made list. I had rules on what she could eat and when she had to eat it. I took hundreds of pictures of her sitting, lying, sleeping, eating, basically every minute of her life. She is actually my only child with a complete baby book.

She was the first thing, person that I loved. She opened my eyes and mind to the scary yet wonderful feelings of being a parent. Of being a part of something bigger than yourself. She made my heart beat. And she scared the living crap out of me.

I wanted to be the best mother I could be. Actually I wanted to be better than that. I read baby books, lots of baby books. Every sneeze we went to the doctor. I would watch her sleep.

I remember her first words, her first steps, the first time she fell down. The time she smeared crap down the hallway and all over herself leaving my sister horrified. I remember feeling triumphant when I breast fed her. And heart broken when she stopped.

I vividly remember the time that I almost lost her. I had gone to the bathroom and when I came out she was just gone. I had left her coloring in front of SpongeBob. Ramsey was no where to be seen. I screamed and cried like a banshee all through out the house. I ran down the street. I pounded on my neighbors doors. Turns out she was hiding in the closet under my wedding dress. My screaming scared her so badly she didn’t want to come out.

Memories like that one stick out. My mommy fail moments.

When she was 7 she had her appendix removed. I had to carry her to the bathroom every day for almost a month after her surgery. She was so helpless. I just wanted to wrap her up in my arms and hug all the pain away.

That same year she would be the catalyst for another life altering event. My freedom and the end of my marriage to her father. She had fallen during an altercation between he and I. It was that moment when I realized I was failing her. This was not the life she deserved. I could not take her childhood from her because I made poor life decisions.

Fast forward to today. We have a whole new reality. A good reality. She is no longer my little baby. She is the same size as me. She has opinions and thoughts about life. She looks like me. It is almost like looking at my reflection. Which is so weird. I don’t tell her I love her enough. I mean I do but I don’t think she realizes the depth of it. I am the jerk that won’t let her roam the streets with her friends. The lame parent who makes her feel embarrassed. I am uncool.

Sometimes I just want to hug her for no reason. And sometimes I want to strangle her. But mostly I just want her to be. To be anything, everything, something.

I would also like her to load the dishwasher properly. But I will settle for happy.

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Marriage

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Marriage can be like running a marathon in -10 degree weather after a week long bender

Love can build you up
Life can tear you down

It is very easy to get “caught up” and it is even easier to “give up”

I have a husband who loves me, who I love
I have beautiful children

But over the last two years I have woken up everyday and walked through my life in a daze. I checked out. Some days I wouldn’t even crawl out of bed or get dressed. I can give you a multitude of reasons why. Miscarriages, money, and bad blood. Maybe I was suffering from postpartum depression. Maybe broken children grow up to be broken adults. Or maybe I am just ill equipped to handle conflict. I let the little things get me down and eat me up inside.

I wasn’t living my life, I was watching life from a safe distance

“When did you stop loving me”

My husband will ask me this in a jokingly manner at least once a day. Except it is not a joke, it is based on a real feeling. Some where along the line I stopped loving. I stopped laughing. I stopped smiling.

Going through the motions…..

I can tell you “waking up” to what feels like a day too late is daunting. It is frustrating to be met with anger and trepidation. It doesn’t just “fix” over night. And being self aware doesn’t make change any easier.

I do sad well

I do angry well

Happy confounds me

Caution she will self destruct in 5..4..3..2..1

BOOM…..

Today I crawled out of bed, I do angry well. I pointed my finger. I placed blame. I feigned hurt feelings.

“I want you to be happy”

I feigned more hurt. I played hard to get. And then I just gave in. It was easier than I thought. For a moment I drank him in and it felt warm. I know right warm that’s the description I give you. But warm can be wonderful.

I’m sitting here watching the twins toss their pancakes on the floor. And it occurs to me that those pancakes on the floor are worth getting up for.

Marriage can be like a warm bed after a long cold walk home

Rainbow Bridge

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This is a reblog from last year. Last Christmas we lost Paw. I miss you, you crappy gross bulldog.

Rainbow Bridge

This week leading up to Christmas has been some sort of surreal dream. I’ve been exhausted and stressed. Normal holiday stuff. But on Monday our English Bulldog Paw passed away.

Paw and I had our issues. He had become stubborn in his old age and managed to piss me off on a regular basis. So much so I even attempted to give him away. I know dick move. Obviously it didn’t happen but I do carry some guilt for even attempting to. That’s why I’m telling you. I honestly believe you have pets till death you part. But with five kids, one large man child, and two dogs I had hit the wall. Somebody had to go in my mind. Secretly I was planning my own escape.

As with any dog you adopt Paw came with a lot of baggage. He had food allergies. Topical flea medicines made him lose his hair. Oral flea medicines made him throw up. He would poop on us if we tried to clip his nails or flea comb him. When we would clip his nails he would chew his feet till they became bloody. He liked to mark his bed and pretty much any where he slept. Sometimes I would have to carrying his lazy butt outside just to get him to potty. No small task since he weighed a good sixty pounds. But we still loved him. I loved/love him. Heck I cried when I tried to give him away. Profusely like an insane person. Obviously again he didn’t make it very far.

Paw’s marking of his bed had turned into an every day occurrence. We suspected kidney failure or maybe prostate cancer. His blood work came back fine. He was just old and couldn’t hold it. I tried doggy diapers and belly bands but every day I just found myself cleaning up pee. Usul could no longer sleep with her buddy. And then he started to go blind. Which presented a whole new challenge. I would have to guide him to his food, crate, and even back in the house. Paw was breaking my heart.

I’m sure Matt and the girls miss their friend. But I don’t think they have the same level of grieving as I do. I took care of Paw. We had a love/hate relationship. He was my grumpy old man. Believe me he had tried to bite me on more than one occasion. Luckily for me his underbite made it impossible for him to do any harm. I was the lady constantly harassing him with fold wiping and teeth cleanings.

I had made the decision that Paw’s quality of life was rapidly going down hill and it was time for him to be put to sleep. He was still eating and drinking but everything else seemed to be falling apart.

I had wanted to put it off till after Christmas. But he seemed even more tired and less himself. Paw was breaking my heart. I made an appointment for Wednesday. It was time to let go. On Monday I decided to give him a bath. I made him rice and chicken. He was very tired. He didn’t want to eat. Or leave his crate.  After his bath he just laid on my lap while I dried him. I could feel his heart racing and then he started to breathe funny. I realized something very bad was happening. And within a matter of minutes Paw died in my arms.

Paw died of heart failure.

The few minutes after he passed were a horrible nightmare. I had to get him back in his crate to take to the vet. Usul howled, she wanted to lay on him. She wanted to keep me away. She barked and whined. It was horrible. I laid on the floor next to him and just cried. I cried because he was gone. I cried because I would have to tell the girls and Matt. I cried because I was alone to deal with this. I cried for trying to give him away. I cried for every time I ever yelled at him or called him a dumb dog. I cried because I would never hear him talk again or roll on his back. I cried because I would never get to clean his stupid folds again. I cried because I lost my grumpy old man.

Paw broke my heart.

I had never heard of the rainbow bridge till we adopted Paw. We read all these stories of other bulldogs that had gone over the rainbow bridge on the rescue website. We would tell Paw that he could never go over the rainbow bridge.

He didn’t listen, normal Paw behavior.

I miss my old crappy bulldog.

Oh Eddie, how do I love thee……

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My top 3 favorite movies of all time……

3. Hedwig and the Angry Inch

2. Meet Me in St. Louis

Notice a theme here and drum roll my favorite movie/movies of all time is…..

1. Eddie and the Cruiser’s/Eddie and the Cruiser’s II aka Eddie Lives

Very few things make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, the tickle of my husband’s mustache, peppermint cocoa, circus peanuts, and Eddie Wilson. Yes I know he is a fictional character.

I first saw Eddie and the Cruiser’s when I was about 6. It randomly came on 1 of the 3, yes 3 stations we had one lazy saturday afternoon. I was instantly in love with the soundtrack and Michael Pare’s cool blue eyes. Later I would come to realize my childhood fascination with Eddie Wilson would be the motivating factor for a series of failed relationships with musicians. I’m not kidding. Granted I still like my men tall, dark, handsome, and narcissistic. I just prefer them/him on a skateboard not behind a guitar.

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Now if you have never seen this movie it has drama, suspense, eye candy, and one hell of a soundtrack by John Cafferty & The Beaver Brown Band. Quick summary the movie plays in real time and flashbacks. Ahh hell I am too lazy to write a synopsis so here is the one I stole from MGM. “They say rock ‘n’ roll never dies, but one dark night in 1963, Eddie Wilson’s car took a dive off a New Jersey bridge with the troubled rock idol at the wheel. His body was never found. Twenty years after the lead singer of Eddie and the Cruisers disappeared, the band’s songs are hotter than ever. And renewed interest in the band leads television reporter Maggie Foley to pursue a tantalizing mystery: What if Eddie is still alive? The circumstances surrounding his death are just shadowy enough to make it a distinct possibility, and someone (could it be Eddie?) has been ransacking the homes of the surviving band members in a desperate search for tapes of the group’s visionary, never-released album. As Maggie interviews the former band members, the pieces of the puzzle start to fit… but only until still deeper mysteries begin to surface.”

It’s worth a watch just for the young hot Ellen Barkin and the very touching performance by Tom Berenger. Well and for the smoldering hot Michael Pare.

Okay I will spoil the movie Eddie isn’t dead. Which you learn in the second movie Eddie Lives or what I call Eddie becomes Canadian. Which is a terrible movie, almost all sequels are. But equally holds a special place in my heart. eddie_and_the_cruisers_ii_eddie_lives_1989

I taped this movie commercials and all, watched it repeatedly till I was in high school. That VHS tape eventually died. Actually it was eaten, I tried to save it. There was crying involved. Later I would maybe illegally download it off the interweb, no I am not confessing to a crime. And I would play that dvd till it died. Okay it skips and yes I still watch it.

Why am I telling you this? So you can tell my husband all I want for Christmas is Eddie Wilson. The movie/movies. Michael Pare is married, I’m married I know it is not meant to be so I will happily take the movies.

If you see my husband tell him yo your wife wants Eddie and the Cruiser’s for Christmas. And possibly that double snuggie thing.

 

Pinup Calendar Time!!!

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Now if you recall several months back Ms. Candybottoms(that’s me) participated in a calendar photo shoot. Well it is time to place your orders folks. All profits will benefit Genesis Women’s Shelter and Hope’s Door.

If we can sell 150 calendars we will be able to donate almost $2,000 to charity! Tis the season for giving!!! Look you get a calendar of hot ladies(I’m biased) and will help individuals in need.

Please view the link for a sneak peak and buy buy buy!!!!!

Tattooed Hippie Pirate Momma

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Love the one you’re with

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I spent several years of my life attempting to love the person I was with eventually the effort became taxing. I had the good sense to fold my hand and walk away.

Relationships come in many shapes and sizes. Not all are created equal, all require work and compromise, and you will not always feel “in love” those are truths.

The grass is rarely greener on the other side. You may find yourself admiring other pastures. But before you take that leap I suggest you tend to your field. See if there are any crops worth saving. Yes silly analogy I know. I could go further with my analogy and tell you the kinds of crops that are not worth tending to. I recognize some things do just go bad.

Why the topic? I woke up this morning with the realization that I’m terribly lucky. For all of my husband’s faults he loves me. He may not always be “in love” with me, he does think our field is worth tending to and fighting for. And man our field has been a mess lately. With the girls waging war on each other, the twins coming down with various rashy illnesses, and a miserable pregnant wife he has a lot on his plate.

I appreciate him even if I don’t always show it. I want him to know that. I’m not just trying to love the one I am with. I do love him.

Happy Anniversary Matt, you are my Danny and I your Annie….

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