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Sol had her first field trip in school today. We went to the pumpkin patch down the road from our house (at the local church, my jaw kind of dropped when I first moved here and found out the churches held these things…considering it’s pagan roots, but that is a different blog, one I am not getting to).
Picking out Pumpkin
And listening to stories
And Iz came along…
The end.
It was cold enough the last week to bust out the bunny poncho. In fact, it was 45 degrees some nights, which, combined with the snow birds returning and firing up their electricity, created brown outs. Cold + no heat = pittsburgh?
PS. She licks windows. Mom freaks at the germ possibilities.
Although it really wasn’t, you wouldn’t be able to tell otherwise, we had fun…honest.
I don’t know how much more of this day I could handle. I ponder the impending doom of my sanity as I lay here on my sofa with my leg propped up, ankle swollen, knee and hip protesting. Apparently they don’t get the kicks we use to get when we threw ourselves down the stairs when we were younger. The difference, of course is that then it was fun, sled riding polyester carpeting in an equally slick sleeping bag. This time, it wasn’t.
I was running from my panic filled bedroom, down the stairs to try to escape, grab more coffee and a breath of fresh air before I broke down in tears. I didn’t catch the step right and fell on my ass, my ankle taking most of the force. My coffee cup clutched in my hand, I dropped it as my mind processed “it’s you or the cup, baby” and even as I was letting go, I had pictures of it shattering and my heart melted thinking “there goes my favorite cup.” To my surprise, it landed on the stair below and sat there, cold coffee and soy rising up to the ceiling like a geyser leaving a gorgeous design across the walls.
Everything ok in the ceramic end, I lay my head down on the beige carpet as my Achilles heel cramped in revolt. “I can’t take much more of this” tear rolls down.
“Can I get you anything” asks D?
“A gun” I cry.
Personally with D and I’s relationship in limbo, counseling on the horizon; my grandmother’s leukemia (update: she bought a new wig the other day, super happy with it); and my daughter’s first birthday I had been too busy to even plan a party for mixed with the ass load of hours at work, taking on about half of my sales rep’s job, the unanswered emails and everything else, I am honestly not sure there is enough coffee to get me through this mess.
The coffee will stay on the wall until Nov., when I take the first weekend to paint the walls a non-destructible, kid friendly paint and pull the stains out with a carpet cleaner. Until then they will blend in delightfully with all the other stains and spots in the house.
Pushing a cart through Target today, I look down at my wears: two kids and a dead bolt. I chuckled a bit our of sheer ironic exhaustion. “Danilo was right,” i told the girls, as if they had any idea of who I was talking about. “I am going to die alone behind a door of deadbolts, only you two are suppose to be cats.”
I gave up this week on a lot of what I have been dealing with. Bad contracts, moms not doing what they need, ppl not owning accounts, grudges against close friends…stupid superficial things that have nothing really relevant in life. But out of everything painful I have been confronting, the most resounding is the change in pace for D and I. A month or so ago, I gave him an ultimatum. He didn’t live up to his end, so I had to live up to mine. I changed the locks until further notice.
I didn’t really want to, I am just so tired, there really wasn’t much else to do. I can’t go into details about it all.
This is why I heart laur.
I’m sitting at home, alone, on our second anniversary weekend eating frozen pie crust for dinner and watching a bone marathon. I, being fully out of my fucking mind and thinking this a crucial regatta in his networking, gave a slight grumble when D loaded off into the car bound for Miami for the Columbus Day Regatta.
As the night wore on and I had yet to hear from him, I google news-ed the event and found out what the Columbus Day Regatta is really all about:
Ten thousand boats are getting together for a little fun and excitement down at Elliott Key (…)the largest flotilla of debauchery on the east coast. Booze, babes and boats combine to equal the ultimate water festival, Miami style. (…) Spanning four days and lasting into the wee hours each night, the party and noise from competing boat stereos peaks on Saturday afternoon and goes strong into that good night; but none so gently. Picture the fun of Mardi Gras with the energy of Woodstock and a few palm trees, and you have arrived. All five senses are stimulated in a never-ending parade of Olympic class people-watching. The regatta is all about public nudity, playful water fights and a cornucopia of smells from a thousand barbeque grills. The alcohol consumption ebbs like the tide and somehow, this mishmash event is considered cool.
I got stood up on my anniversary weekend for this?
Laur
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L:
I GOT IT 9:49 PM
2 girls, 1 Mom 9:49 PM
and you could write about potty training
You know, the one I was suppose to be taking this weekend in Miami…the one that was suppose to refresh me from my 14/7 workload and keep me sane? Wanna know why I am sitting in Vero RIGHT NOW and NOT in Miami?
Where do I start?
Headed south, and stopped by a meeting on the way out of town. As I am jumping out of the car, D pulls an “Oh yeah!” on me… “Oh yeah, my aunt broke her femur bone and is in the hospital” (She has muscular dystrophy), so the weeked involves constant updates about her: never walking again, surgery, pins in her legs…she lives at home with D’s Grandma…a super sweet, super diabetic lady who won’t be able to take care of her the way things are going. This is really bad news. But they live in Miami, so we continue on our way
So we checked into hotel…a very hip little hotel on Miami Beach with Bright Pink walls…and a happy hour that was suppose to last from 5 to 7. What happens after that? Happy hour moves up the stairs to the third floor, infront of room 315 (US!) and lasts until 6 in the morning.
The last thing to look forward to is a shower to wake us up. AND WHAT A WAKE UP CALL….NO HOT WATER! Freakin’ seriously. So we check out, determined to find somewhere else by the end of the night.
Yacht club by 7:30 a.m. for races that are suppose to start at 11…why? WHo the hell knows. And it’s pouring rain. Solaris and Iz can’t even go swimming. Yesterday they told me they needed me on a chase boat to take pictures since they’re original man cancelled, so I couldn’t leave to take the kids to teh children’s museum for fear of missing my ride. Finally the warning flag when up after the skippers meeting…it would be 60 minutes from the time they TOOK IT BACK DOWN (lightening, race called).
I gave up, gathered up my kids, the MIL and wished D luck. This was not MY idea of a freaking vacation. I’d take my chances with the daily grind.
