Shopping with an almost-three-year-old

My girl is a really good shopping companion. Seriously.

She actually shops. She picks things out for herself and she's very pleasant.

Today we were shopping for a slicker for her. We found one and were slowly making our way through the store...looking around. She saw a purse she thought I should get. It was really cute...not very functional but I said she could hold it while we looked around. I figured I'd decide later.

As we were looking around I glanced at her and she had her finger buried knuckle-deep in her nose. I'll admit that during the conversation that followed, I was a wee bit distracted trying to navigate the cart through the racks of clothing.

"Eww. Don't pick your nose. It's disgusting!"

"But I love to pick my nose." This is her response to anything I tell her not to do these days. It's fantastic.

"I don't care if you love it. It's gross."

"Alright. I just wiped my finger off on the purse. Is that alright?"

GAH!!!

While I did briefly consider stashing the purse somewhere, I am now the proud owner of a cute , albeit booger decorated, purse.

Dorky Work Post

Ok...I almost never...maybe literally never...post about work. But something cool happened today and I just have to brag.

I work at a bank - on a training team. We train business/wholesale customers...the bigguns.

We started the team 5 years ago and I was the only trainer. My manager and I would do the classes together. They're all conference call/internet combinations so a 'virtual classroom' situation.

Which is how my first responsibility worked. My first job on the team was to be on the line and ask 'planted' questions to encourage the real attendees to participate. I was a stooge.

We had one topic.

Fast-forward....now we have over 25 classes and two more team members.

Today - we trained our 20,000th attendee. WOOHOO for us!!!!

(Told you it was a dorky work post.)

Wisps of a Dream

She lazily lounged...propped up on her elbow behind him. The sheets were rumpled.

The light from the next room cast shadows across the bed.

His back was to her as he smoked....his face and thoughts a mystery to her. She watched him curiously....smiling to herself.

She reached out and caressed his shoulder. It was cool and smooth.

She pulled the sheet up over his shoulder.

And snuggled closer...her belly to his back.

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of him and sighed with contentment.

I Survived My Divorce Day

Popeye over at ...And Hope and History Rhyme has a plan.

He's going to have "I Survived My Divorce" day.

Now, while I don't want to live my life spouting off about my divorce, I'll bite. It kind of reminds me of that time in my life right after I gave birth to my daughter. I wanted to shout from a mountain top....."I GOT THAT PERSON OUT OF MY BODY!!"

Yeah...perhaps too much information. But whatever.

You all know I did, in fact, survive something.

So, if you're divorced (or have been through a painful breakup of any kind), and reading this, that means you survived something. And that's worth a little celebration at least.

If you're in the process of getting divorced...perhaps you'll find some inspiration and strength.

Check it out...mark your calendars for May 28th and tell us your story.

I Survived My Divorce Day

My own personal Little Miss Sunshine

Scene: 9 little children and their parent(s) are standing in a circle at music class. It is time for some dancing. The teacher lets each child take a turn picking what dance everyone will do. Some children jump. Some children march. Then it's my daughter's turn.

She wants to 'do a jig'. Uncertain of what she'll do, I just watch...I have a bad feeling about this.

Imagine, if you will, the other people in the room watching and imitating her...children and parents alike.

She wiggles her hips.

She shimmies her shoulders.

She claps her hands.

She twirls in a circle.

She stomps her feet.

She sticks her bum out, twists around like a dog chasing its tail, and spanks herself.

Yes...you read that right. My eyes almost popped out of my head.

So you want to get a divorce?

Recently, I've had several friends/acquaintances ask me for advice about how to get divorced.

As we all know, I am an expert.

Ok...that's not true. But I do know a whole lot about what not to do. So I figured I'd post some of my lessons learned here. This probably won't interest many of my regular readers...but I know sometimes people find me by searching 'divorce'.

****PLEASE NOTE: This in no way should be considered legal advice!! Talk to an attorney for that. These are just some things I learned the hard way.****

1. Find an attorney whose office is within walking distance of the court house. He/she will most likely be familiar with the judges and how they rule.

2. Research, research, research. Do not go into the divorce process ignorant. I did and it cost me close to $20K. Find out, specifically, what the process in your county is. The Internet is fantastic for basic info and local attorneys will help with the specific...make sure to consult with several.

3. Do not mistake your attorney for being your friend or therapist. While they may respond to your many emails, they will also bill you for them. Get a therapist if you need to but remember everything is 'discoverable' in a divorce so if you don't want your soon-to-be-ex knowing - you'll have to wait. Maybe start a blog. heh heh....

4. Do not get caught up in the minutia bullshit coming from your soon-to-be-ex. Remember, if you're considering divorce - you guys aren't getting along already. More than likely, the worst is yet to come. Before responding to anything, ask yourself these questions and proceed appropriately:

1. Will my response make this situation better or worse?
2. Am I trying to 'win' an argument or find resolution?
3. Is there any way we can come to agreement on this?
4. Am I being reactive or proactive?

5. PICK YOUR BATTLES and stick to them. But don't pick every battle. Ya can't win 'em all.

6. Don't lead with your compromise. Make sure to leave yourself room to bargain in EVERY situation. If you do lose something you wanted, just think - you could still be married. That works for me.

7. Seriously consider each and every concession you make. Something that may seem small or immaterial at the time, may have lasting effects. Example: I allowed him to claim her for tax purposes every other year because I wanted the divorce. This will cost me thousands of dollars over the next 15 years. Oh well...I could still be married to him. (See how that works?)

8. Do not engage in attempts by your soon-to-be-ex to draw you into battle outside the divorce process. Or inside if you can help it. This is not to say that discussions cannot be fruitful - it totally depends on the people involved. But when you recognize that it's just fighting - step out.

9. Document everything. It will seem silly or unnecessary at times. But do it anyway. I used a planner/calendar and just jotted notes on the date(s) of the occurrences.

10. Take care of yourself. However you can. And know that you are not alone. Know that it will be over someday. Know that while you feel like your entire life is a wreck - it's temporary....and while temporary can last longer than you thought...it does end. Don't lose sight of the future - it will come.

There - my top 10. I left out one that's the most important of all...I'll put it last so it's fresh on your mind.

Never, EVER, use the children. Ever. It is not their battle. It is our job to protect them - especially when their family is falling apart. Get help to decide the best way to help them through the experience.

Ahhhhhh

I was just hanging laundry out to dry on the line in the backyard. I stopped for a moment...just to enjoy the day.

It's 74 degrees.

The sky is the bright blue that hurts my eyes to look at....but I can't help but look. It's so pretty.

There are no clouds in sight.

The breeze is perfect....tickling my skin and swishing my hair.

The sun is warm...not just bright. I can feel it on my back....almost hot.

The birds are singing and chattering.

The air smells fresh.

I know many of you enjoy this kind of day quite often...but there's just something spectacular about the first times in the year we get a day like this.

I'm so excited...

...and I just can't hide it.

Heh heh. After way too much time and more trips to Best Buy than I'd have liked...I'm finally able to download pics to my computer. So here are some. Just for fun.

Am I doing a good job teaching my girl manners?

Mmmmm....chocolate. (Mama's favorite cake!)

The Birthday Party (pre-party)

Look what we got!!

Best Friends (awwww)

Pity the big busted women

Awwww.

I went shopping today. I don't really like shopping when I'm looking for something because, typically, I won't find it because it's just a vague idea in my head.

Today, I wanted some new bras and undies. I love lingerie.

I got to the shop and ooohhh, ahhhhh....eye candy. Magentas, reds, blacks, emeralds, purples.....every color in the rainbow and then some.

I got right down to business...fingering through the racks. Then, I remembered something I had obviously blocked from my brain.

Stores hardly ever stock my size in those pretty bras. It's been 20 years since I could wear those sizes. I could still run the 400 in 56 seconds when my boobs were that small....I probably didn't even need a bra.

Don't get me wrong....I'm not like some Busty Dusty in a roadside strip club...but I'm not a 32B either.

Who got it in their head that women with larger breasts will only wear beige bras that look like they're part of a straight jacket? I hate that. Beige is not sexy.

It's not as if anyone will be seeing my bra...but I'll know it's beige. I'm just not a beige kind of gal.

I did find one....purple and lacy. But when I read the tag, it advertised that the point of the bra was to minimize. Ok...so I can have a pretty bra but it's intended to make me look small busted.

Tch. I'm disgusted.

Me and my big mouth...

"Mama, I'm so hungry I could eat a duck!"

"A duck?" I giggled.

"Yes. A duck."

"It's horse. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse," I said.

"Nawww Mama. A horse is too big for your mouth."

"You think so?" I said...still giggling.

"Yes. Maybe a pony would be better."

Check out my Widget

Apparently, I am a back-to-basics, easy-riding, conquering love bug. Or maybe it's a love bug conquering, back-to-basics easy rider. Huh.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Lawdling

I was giving my daughter a bath last night and she made this noise:

LOO LOO LOO LOO LOO LOO LOO LOO LOO HEEEE HAWWW

Then she told me to do it too. I did. Then she did it again. Then I did it again.

There I was thinking I was just making some random noise with her.

Then she told me, "We can lawdle, Mama!"

I wasn't sure what she meant. "Lawdle?" I asked.

"Yes, Mama. Like this: LOO LOO LOO LOO LOO LOO LOO LOO LOO HEEEE HAWWW!!!"

I did it again...but faster.

Ahhhh. We were yodeling. I cracked up!

So do it....you know you want to. Seriously. High pitched, fast, and very loud. (If you're in your office...you can whisper.)

Smoooooooth Operator

Yeah Baby...that's me.

(Just hush if you know me....I'm trying to enjoy my moment in the sun.)

I needed something from him. It's not a good feeling. It's been stressing me for about a month now.

I needed him to switch two of his visits so I could take my girl on a trip. I knew if he was aware I needed (or even worse...wanted) it, he'd refuse. So somehow, I had to make it seem like he wanted the switch.

Manipulative? You bet. Fair? I think so. It doesn't hurt anyone.

I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity. A time when he wasn't posturing, fighting, ranting.....small windows of time usually.

It happened about an hour ago. It took a little fancy dancing on my part....verbally - I'd never actually dance for him...but whatever. I got it done. I guess 7 years of dealing with him actually paid off a little.

Speaking of smooth operators....my LAN guy laughed at me when I called about my blackberry. I'd like to think he was laughing with me but I'm fairly certain he wasn't. It's almost fixed and I've had to enter my new password about 20 times.

Maybe I'll remember it.

Missing Groove

I found it.

Anyway - I just used the wrong password three times on my blackberry and lost all the data.

Awesome. I'm a retard.

Seriously. I only look at it a hundred times a day....and have for the last two years. Sadly...I'm one of those people. Though, I try to be polite about it and I really do have a reason. Most of my team is on the West coast....it's work. Really.

But tonight, I just absolutely could not remember the password. And then I couldn't remember which password I tried so I couldn't try a different one. Did that stop me? Naaah.

When the warning message came up on my third try "FINAL ATTEMPT: ALL DATA WILL BE LOST!"....I felt like I was rubbing a magic lamp...hoping for a Genie. I actually set the berry down.

Then I looked at it for a moment. Stepped away from it. Ignored it.

Like maybe, magically, I'd only be on my second attempt when I picked it up again. Not so much. Screen went blank and when it came back up...the only thing showing was the time.

And it was 5 hours ahead. Does this mean I have accomplished some form of time-travel? Could I end up somewhere cool? Fiji...Portugal....the UK?

At least it's an easy fix...I think I can just sync it up tomorrow. I need a vacation. For real.

Though...I am enjoying an odd sense of peace knowing the little red light won't be blinking tonight so I won't compulsively check it in case my boss sends some random email at 10 PM only to find out when I look....someone is pushing Viagra. (Note: my boss is pretty cool and really wouldn't expect an answer...that's why it's compulsive.)

I'm really hopeful that I won't automatically plug it in to my laptop tomorrow and accidentally sync it backwards.

Is that possible?

Will ye be kissin' the Blarney Stone today?

I won't...so eloquence (or bullshit) won't be part of my blog today. Instead....some good ole Irish history and humor.

I can't tell you how many times I've been asked "Are you Irish??"...because I can't count them.

The answer people want is 'Yes.' I know this because if I answer honestly, they seem disappointed. As if the answer they are looking for is 'yes' and for me to launch into Riverdance. I've learned to just smile and say yes. It's quicker.

I'm not Irish....I'm a mutt like most Americans. But I'll claim it for today.....sort of. (If I were really Irish, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't let this cold that feels suspiciously like bronchitis keep me away from my Black 'n Tans tonight. Damn...I was really looking forward to them.)

Anyway....I have childhood memories of hearing the history of my family from my paternal grandfather. It was very important to him that we understood we were 'Scots-Irish'. Which does not necessarily mean that I'm part Scot and part Irish...which is what it sounds like. But who knows? I could be.

It basically means that my ancestors were Scots and they moved to Northern Ireland then to the good ol' U. S. of A. and added "Scotch" to "Irish" to differentiate themselves from the Catholic Irish who followed.

And they were hillbillies....mainly.

Our geneology tracking only goes back to the mid 1800s...my grandfather died a few years ago so we don't know much before that. I know there's a castle in Ireland that my grandparents visited....it's got our name.

This now ends today's 'history' lesson. We'll move into the humor portion next.

******

Two Irishmen, Patrick & Michael, were adrift in a lifeboat following a dramatic escape from a burning freighter. While rummaging through the boat's provisions, Patrick stumbled across an old lamp. Secretly hoping that a genie would appear, he rubbed the lamp vigorously.

To his amazement, a genie came forth! This particular genie, however, stated that he could only deliver one wish, not the standard three. Without giving much thought to the matter, Patrick blurted out, "Make the entire ocean into Guinness Beer!"

The genie clapped his hands with a deafening crash, and immediately the entire sea turned into the finest brew ever sampled by mortals. Simultaneously, the genie vanished. Only the gentle lapping of Guinness on the hull broke the stillness as the two men considered their circumstances.

Michael looked disgustedly at Patrick whose wish had been granted. After a long, tension-filled moment, he spoke. "Nice going Patrick! Now we're going to have to pee in the boat!"

******

Q: What do you call an Irishman who knows how to control his wife?
A: A bachelor

******

Paddy was tooling along the road one fine day when the local policeman, a friend of his, pulled him over.

"What's wrong, Seamus?" Paddy asked.

"Well didn't ya know, Paddy, that your wife fell out of the car about five miles back?" said Seamus.

"Ah, praise the Almighty!" Patty replied with relief. "I thought I'd gone deaf!"

******

An Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman each order a Guinness in a pub. Upon being served, each finds a fly in their beer.

Repulsed, the Englishman sends his back.

The Scotsman gently flicks the fly out of his mug and begins drinking.

The Irishman carefully lifts the fly up by its wings and screams, "Spit it out!! Spit it out!!"

******

McQuillan walked into a bar and ordered martini after martini, each time removing the olives and placing them in a jar. When the jar was filled with olives and all the drinks consumed, the Irishman started to leave.

"S'cuse me," said a customer, who was puzzled over what McQuillan had done. "What was that all about?" "Nothing," said the Irishman, "My wife just sent me out for a jar of olives."

******
And finally....

May the road rise to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face.

And rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Goin' to the chapel.....

....and she's gonna get married.

As the end of the day approached, my daughter told me she was getting married.

"Hunh?" was my response. If you've heard me do that, you know it's one of the least intelligent sounds I make.

"I'm getting married. I'm gonna have a wedding," she said.

Now, 'wedding' is the last game I want to play with her...for various reasons. I also wonder where she heard about it. But I played along.

"Who are you going to marry?" I asked.

"Mia," she told me. (Mia is her best friend.)

"Ahh. Well, have fun," I tell her. Lame, yes. But I'd had a long day and was really hoping for a little down time before dinner. Often times, she'll entertain herself for a little while after work.

Not so that night.

"But, Mama, I need you to come to my wedding!" she exclaimed.

"Oh...alright. Where do I go?"

"Come see! It's in my room!"

I went to her room with her and she had the room full of chairs. All her dolls are sitting as if in an audience. It's pretty clever.

She moved Matilda and told me to sit down in the back row. Then she gave Matilda to me to hold. So there I sit, in a teeny-tiny chair with a doll in my lap....surrounded by chairs and dolls. Really wishing I could be somewhere else.

My daughter ran out and came back with a flower wreath hair thingy. She told me she'd be wearing it at her wedding. She also gave me a hat. It was actually the top to her 'barrel o' monkeys' but I managed to keep it on my head. I'm sure I looked very fashionable.

"To keep the bugs off," is what she told me when she gave it to me. I asked her if she was getting married in a swamp....affirmative.

Then she went to the chair in front of the other three rows and sat down with her back to me.

"Um...what are you doing?" I asked.

"We're in a van driving to the wedding."

I felt a bubble of laughter come from somewhere....but managed to silence it.

"I need a steering wheel, Mama. Can you get me something big and round?"

I tried to talk her into using her flower wreath....which she thought was a ridiculous idea. So I started looking for a steering wheel.

"How about this?" I asked, holding up her pool toy ring.

"No, Mama....that's for the bath," she said...looking at me like I was the silliest person in the world.

I offered several more suggestions...each one more ridiculous than the last in her opinion....until I finally found something that would work.

Back to her room...all in our places...she started 'driving'. I was thinking 'finally...we're getting somewhere...' when she stopped and turned around to look at me. Her expression told me she thought I was trying to slip a fast one by her. I had no idea what she was thinking.

"Mama..." she said...in the same tone I use when I know she's trying to get away with something, "I can't drive. I'm not old enough."

I almost fell out of my chair I was laughing so hard.

StairMASTER

I got a new StairMaster. It's the stairs down to the creek by my house.

There are 40 steps. Yep...I counted.

Doesn't seem like many, does it? That's what I thought.

I decided to up my exercise routine...without signing up at a gym. That never works out for me...I end up paying the fees and not going.

So I talked my brother into coming for moral support(JOKE) and we headed down the road. I had no idea how many sets I could do without collapsing so I figured I'd start with 5.

Up and down 5 times. Not walking. Running.

My brother is 18 and probably has an ounce of fat somewhere on his body...maybe. He ran the first two sets with me...a cigarette dangling from his lip.

That's inspiring.

Then he ran the third set but he skipped every other step so he got to the top ahead of me.

Where he began to sing "Eye of the Tiger".

Next he pretended he was going to do a set backwards. And give me a head start.

Funny boy.

That was the set, by the way, during which I wondered when exactly it was that my legs had turned into concrete. But I finished.

I did 8 sets. And I don't think I'll take my brother next time.

One Word

From Burg....answer with only one word...

1. Where is your cell phone? purse

2. Your Vehicle? Toyota

3. Your hair? Lots

4. Your father? Absent

5. Your favorite thing? Joy

6. Your dream last night? Mmmmmmm

7. Your favorite drink? Wine

8. The room you're in? Office

9. Your ex? Idiot

10. You are? Sleepy

11. What do you want to be in 10 years? Wiser

12. Who did you hang out with today? Daughter

13. What you're not? Cruel

14. Muffins? Why?

15. One of your wish list items? preschool

16. Where is the _________? girlfriend

17. The last thing you did? Banking

18. What are you wearing? clothes

19. Your favorite TV show? none

20. Your pet(s)? enemies

21. Your computer? Mac

22. Your life? Mine

23. Your mood? Upbeat (heh heh)

24. Missing? Someone

25. What are you thinking about right now? coffee

26. Your shoes? Boots

27. Your work? Manageable

28. Your summer? Humid

29. Your favorite color? Purple

That was trickier than I thought it would be.

Problem Solved

Almost. First...I gotta get some of this off my chest.

This stupid music class is killin' me. To be fair...I love the class. It's him I can't stand.

Details:

• I pay for the class...$300/semester.
• It's cumulative learning...i.e...if she misses a session, she doesn't learn it.
• We've been going for 8 months now and my daughter is known as the 'leader' in class
• He started coming a few weeks ago and it all fell to pieces.
  

So I sent an email offering to drive her to and from the class on his weekends. To avoid the conflict and disruption. I mean...all the families involved paid for it and nobody deserves to put up with his crap.

He responded with a bunch of pap....including some parenting advice:

1. Give her more time to think about the situation and her decision.
2. She is only 2 and not an adult, give her time.
3. She might not be able to give you the snap answer you are looking for.
4. Stay calm. She is going to pick up on your raised irritation.
5. Teach her that there is time for play and a time for learning. This should help. Remind her of this.

Piece of shit. He is a piece of stinkin' shit. I spend every waking hour teaching her this stuff. And what I know, that he does not, is that she knows most of it. What I also know is that those are all things I heard ad nauseum during our marriage. One of the solutions he came up with in counseling was that I should speak slower to him. And only one sentence at a time. If that gives you any point of reference...

Here's what I have to say to him...that I did not:

1. I always have, and always will, allow her the appropriate amount of time for any decision. If she is not able, or willing - as was the case on Saturday, to make a decision, I will be a parent and make it for her.
   
2. I am completely aware of her age...which is almost 3. Quite a developmental difference between 2 and 3.
   
3. But by learning appropriate behavior. she will learn how to excel in the world. Early bird gets the worm....he who hesitates is lost....
   
4. She needs to learn that when someone salutes her and says "YES SIR!" it is alright to be irritated.
5. You're a fuckwit.
   

He wouldn't have any idea what her behavior normally is during activities because he hasn't bothered to involve himself in any part of her life other than his play-daddy visits. For which I'm thankful (not for the visits...for the lack of involvement)....even though it's causing a bit of a panty-bunch right now.

My job is to prepare her for life. That sometimes means a snap decision...such as whether to participate in music class or leave. There are points to be negotiated and times when I have to be a parent. Quite honestly, I prefer the negotiation.

Inappropriate behavior does not warrant negotiation. She was behaving inappropriately by the standards she knows I have...so I enforced the consequence. I gave her 3 chances and my heart twisted when I had to make the call to have her leave. She was aware of what was happening and why.

Does he think she came out of the womb well-behaved and pleasant? Able to be in social situations and handle herself accordingly? I've been taking that child out in the world since the day I gave birth. She's traveled...eaten out...shopped....and, most of all, learned how to live in the world...and, as an added bonus, she gets compliments wherever we go.

This takes work....by me and her. I'm exhausted most of the time. The most important part of my day typically starts after I've already worked a full day. I'm not complaining - I chose this life. He has no idea and that he presumed to give me parenting advice just knocked a screw loose for a second. Especially since whenever she returns from a visit, I have to double-time it to un-teach her things she picks up at his house.

Ok...end of vent. Thanks for reading.

Alright...finally...to the solution part. I'm switching the class to a different day. He might think he won a round because it's not scheduled on 'his' time but I don't care about that. I don't want my daughter to miss out because she has to deal with his drama.

I just want her to learn to love music.

Are you lookin' at my ass?

Because if you are you should absolutely note the absence of duct tape residue.

On my skirt, that is, not my ass. (That would just be weird if I were blogging about tape on my bare bum.)

My favorite black skirt has been hanging in my closet for several weeks now. See, I went out to lunch with a friend and, as I scooched into the booth, some part of my mind noted the duct tape on the seat.

Apparently, not the part of my mind that thinks ahead.

I ended up with a good three inch smear of duct tape residue on my skirt, which I completely forgot about when I did laundry. I also managed to get the edge of my skirt in the toilet somehow that same day. Wasn't a good day for the skirt.

Last night, I decided to tackle the goo stuck to the skirt. I really like that skirt. I'm not a domestic goddess by any means...so I googled "how to get duct tape residue off".

Some of the suggestions were: WD-40, Goo-Be-Gone, and acetone. I figured WD-40 would really ruin the skirt and I don't have any Goo-Be-Gone or acetone so I decided to use nail polish remover.

I know...not even on the list. But it sort of worked. I'm pretty sure it did something....I mean besides make my skirt stink....in a lemony kind of way.

I tried scraping at it with a butter knife. Again, I'm convinced my efforts were rewarded.

Finally, back to Google. I almost blogged asking for suggestions but by that point, I really needed some immediate gratification.

The solution to getting duct tape residue off a skirt is.......drum roll please.....duct tape. Yeah...evidently, the residue is more attracted to other residue than it is to my skirt. Who knew? (OK...don't answer if you knew. I want to feel smart about this.)

It only took me about an hour....the skirt's made out of this clingy material and I had to stretch it way out to get all the goo out...but it worked.

I'm a duct-tape-residue-removing-genius!! But I swear I'll think twice before ever sitting on duct tape again.

The funniest song in the world

I'm listening to the CD (Gaelic Storm - Bring Yer Wellies) I bought at the concert this weekend. I mean, how can Irish music not bring some cheer, right?

I know it's not the same as listening to it but I'm putting the words to one here....it makes me laugh out loud every time I hear it.

Don't Go for "The One"

My friend Harvey married Tracey McColl

by Christ she was a scary ol' doll

A voice out of hell and a temper to boot

Arms like a navvy and a face like dried fruit

I bumped into Harvey back home last year

Says to him "Do you want to go for a beer?"

"No! Me sister's French husband is over," says he,

"I've been sent to get snails to impress him for tea."

"I was down in the snail shop she told me to go

I'm a little bit late because business was slow......

If I'm not home by six, I'll surely be done

The missus will kill me let's just go for the one!"

(chorus) The one, the one, don't go for the one.

Don't go for the one, for the one, for the one.

The one, the one, don't go for the one.

Don't go for the one, for the one, for the one.

For the one went down fast the second did too,

three of four followed t'was a fine how do you do!

Harvey looked at his watch and he shrieked out with fright

It was twenty past ten, we'd been drinking all night!

Cursing my name he sped cross the floor

Clutching the snails he ran out the door

"I'm a dead man!" he said "I'm drunk and I'm late!"

As he tore down the road and up to his gate

Well he opened the gate and he ran down the path

For he knew he was in for the dragon's wrath

But he tripped and he fell and up in the air

Went the bag with the snails flying everywhere

Hearing the noise she kicked open the door

Snails and Harvey were spread cross the floor

"You're three hours late!!" she screamed, as loud as she could,

"What's your excuse? This had better be good!!"

Well he looks down at the snails and with a confident air

he says..."Five more feet lads, we're nearly there!!"

Seriously....that last line gets me every single time.

Idiot Vomit

I tried not to blog about this. Mainly because I tried not to let it have any power over me.

Alas, I'm stressed.

We had a situation this weekend. As you may or may not recall, my daughter has music class on Saturdays. She's been going for almost 8 months now and it was scheduled prior to the divorce.

I tried to convince my daughter that she would be going just with him sometimes but she insisted that I go. I would rather not go when he's there. I'm still working on that with my daughter.

Older siblings are not allowed to attend. There are a couple reasons for this rule....one, they distract the youngsters and two, they haven't paid for the class.

Of course, even after being provided with information on this rule in writing and verbally, he brought his middle daughter to class. Assuming, of course, that his charm and wonder-daddy status would woo the instructor into making an exception.

What he didn't know is that the instructor likes me. She immediately told him that middle daughter had to sit in the hall.

This upset my daughter because she thought middle daughter would be in class. Because that's what he prepared her for. So when middle daughter had to go in the hall, he told my daughter not to worry because middle daughter would be peeking in the door.

That shouldn't be too distracting.

My daughter absolutely refused to participate in class. All she wanted to do was go out in the hall and play with her sister.

When I suggested to him that we close the door, he got upset. He told me it wasn't distracting. I stood my ground and assured him that it was.

To which he responded, "YES SIR!!" with a salute.

In front of the entire class. I should be glad he toned it down a little. He usually says "AYE AYE CAPTAIN!"

In the end, my daughter had to be removed from the class because she was being disruptive to the other kids. Then her best friend had to leave because she was inconsolable after my daughter left. I tend to think it was less about my daughter leaving and more about the insane level of tension involved.

He and I went out to the hall....I was attempting to come up with a solution for future classes and he was rehashing our divorce.

You know....the divorce in which I fleeced him...took him for all he was worth....ruined his life and dreams...got everything I wanted....? That one.

When he told me he just wouldn't bring my daughter to class on 'his' weekends because he didn't have anywhere to take middle daughter, I reminded him that he was ordered to do so. I also offered to do the driving if it would make it easier.

He continued to talk about how I was still trying to ruin his life.

When he told me that I should schedule all her activities during the week, I reminded him that I work during the week. I also asked him to consider that rather than 'his' time or 'my' time it was actually her time. I told him it wasn't fair to expect her to miss out on activities just because it was inconvenient to him.

He talked about how I would never be happy unless I was completely in control of his life.

I reminded him that he was ordered not to discuss such topics in front of our daughter - who was on my hip at the time.

He told me that I couldn't control him anymore.

Yes. We were so on the same page.

I stood there, not talking at all now as he ranted, being reminded of how I felt when we were married. A feeling of familiar futility washed over me.

I kissed my daughter on the nose and told her I love her. I handed her to him. I asked him to leave.

Then I cried.

Mainly for her. Some for me and the realization, once again, that I did this not only to myself - but to my daughter.

After some retail therapy, a good concert, and some sleep....today's a new day. It's the day during which I have to find the strength to fight through this crap.

Somebody pass the Geritol

I went out last night. Downtown.

I work downtown. I'm there every week. I'm very familiar with it.

Until last night. I have to get out more.

I went to see a band with a friend of mine. Awesome music...I had a blast. When they finished playing, it was still fairly early. Well, midnight or so.

We decided to walk down the street to another bar. As we were walking down the street, past all the clubs and bars, we couldn't help but notice something.

"Did we ever look like that?" my friend asked.

"Yeah...about 15 years ago," I responded...snickering, "But I'm pretty sure I didn't act like that."

Mmmhmm. Right.

I never dressed in clothes that I now think are just a tad on the slutty side.

I never got so drunk in public that it didn't matter to me who saw me attached to my boyfriend's mouth.

I never walked a weavy line down a sidewalk as I hooted in laughter about something completely ridiculous that I'd never find funny if I were sober.

Nope. Not me. (I'm a big fat liar right now.)

So as we walked, listening to the thumping base come from the various clubs, I remembered that young girl.

I cringed a little. I also laughed. We both did.

We got to the pub...O'Donovan's Irish Pub...in keeping with the theme of the evening. It was pretty packed so we took a few walks around to find a place to sit.

I felt like I had a big sign on me that said "Make Way For The Elderly". I noticed that the men noticing me were...um...not the boys they used to be.

But I didn't really care. Mainly because my interest is solidly elsewhere and also because with age comes the confidence to scoot my way into a booth as it empties while the young bunnies also eyeing the booth glare at me.

They hesitated. I didn't.

Heh heh. Yer time'll come, girlies.

And by then, I'll be so far from this pub it won't even matter.

I'm in da money...

...sort of.

I got a letter last week from his attorneys stating that they were going to be releasing my share of the house proceeds. WOOHOO!

But then, they sent the check to my attorney. And they made the check out to him. Grrr.

Tuesday, my attorney's bookkeeper called and asked how I wanted her to handle the check. She gave me two choices.

One - he could sign it over to me and she'd send it to me.

Two - he could endorse it and they'd put it through their trust account and mail me a check.

I opted for choice #1.

She called me back and told me she wasn't comfortable mailing it once it was endorsed and asked if I could come pick it up instead.

I knew I couldn't easily get there this week so I asked if she'd just deposit it into my account since my bank is right across the street from his office. She said yes.

She called me back and said she couldn't deposit it since I hadn't endorsed it yet.

I explained that if she'd just write 'for deposit only' and my account number on the back it would be fine.

She wasn't comfortable with that. I didn't argue....I mean...what do I know? I've only been in banking for a dozen years.

She said she'd just go ahead and put it through their trust account and cut me a check.

Alright. Fine.

She called back again and told me she couldn't do that because my attorney had already signed it over to me so I'd need to come get it.

I called a few minutes ago to make sure I could pick it up since it's a hella long drive. I got the legal assistant who wasn't comfortable giving it to me because it was endorsed to me and there was a deposit slip with it. The bookkeeper doesn't work on Fridays.

I explained the situation and told her it was fine to release the check.

She's looking into it.

Good grief.

Sheesh.

When he brought my girl home Tuesday night, she was like a little hot potato. I could tell right away she had a fever. I took her temp and it was just over 101. Not terrible but something to watch.

By midnight, it had spiked at over 103. Scary. I gave her Tylenol and did the cold washcloth thing and eventually, it went down to 102. By morning it was down to 101.

Today, her temp is normal. But for the last couple days I've been struggling because it worries me that he didn't notice she had a temp. She's still fighting something off and she'll be spending the weekend with him. I'm worried. It's a mom thing, I guess.

So I sent him an email.

Somebody please hit me with a brick...or a shovel....or something. Anything.

I told him she'd had a high fever and expressed concern that he hadn't noticed it or if he had, he hadn't mentioned it. And asked him to keep a close eye on her this weekend.

He responded: She urinated 3-4 times which was odd but she didn't feel hot at all. It would be nice if you wouldn't imply that I'm unable to take care of her. I feel like you are trying to trap me, with your past history and all.

Huh. Fairly random.

I answered: I'm just trying to make sure you keep a close eye on her this weekend because it does concern me that you didn't notice she had a fever. It's not a trap.

I shouldn't have answered. I just wanted him to actually get the message I was trying to send and not some bizarre rendition.

He responded: I watch her like a hawk because I don't want any harm to come to her and I'm afraid of you. She didn't have a fever with me. And you know me well enough that I'm very aware of people around me and how they are doing. You seem to forget I'm the one that has been there for you and your needs for a long time. And I do that more so for the girls. I will always love you and never understand your desire to hurt me the way you have. I know you don't know or can't realize how much pain you have caused me.

*****

Alrighty then. About that fever....?

Okay.

Huh.

Didn't expect that response. I didn't answer.

I really, really wish he'd start dating.

Good Times

My birthday is over and now I'm officially older.

My daughter did a fantastic job. I walked in the door from work and she came running up to me, put her hands on my cheeks and said "Happy Birthday, Mama!! Come see what I did!!"

We walked to the dining room table, which had been set up beautifully....by her. Around the table she had set up every chair from the house and sitting in the chairs were all her favorite dolls. Pink Baby, Delilah, Lulu, Oscar, and Matilda were all ready for a celebration. Oh...and the 'secret' balloons were out too.

My cake was the centerpiece...and yes...lots of frosting. (I'll be taking the majority of the cake to work...watch out!) My girl could hardly contain her excitement about the presents but she managed because we went out for dinner first.

When we came home, we lit the candles....I'm fairly certain we could have warmed the house for a while with that heat. Next year, maybe I'll go for those number candles and only have two....the three and the six.

Happy Birthday was sung, I made my wish and we blew out the candles. All of them...that means I get my wish. Heh heh. It was a good one.

I opened my gifts, which she had oh-so-carefully selected and now I am glittery, sweet-smelling and bejeweled. She did a good job.

Then I hit the road for some musical bingo at The Chatterbox with Sandra and some other bloggy folk. Big fun....I didn't officially win anything but a few bats of the eyelashes got me a t-shirt.

It says "Beer is My Life". Not sure it'll be appropriate for my meeting later today with my manager's manager. Ugh...why did I go out on a school night?

Because it was fun.

All in all...it was a fine, fine day. In fact, it was absolutely lovely. I can't remember a birthday that I've enjoyed quite so much.

Couldn't ask for more than that.

How dorky am I?

Ok. Don't even answer that.

I got the coolest pen for my birthday. A good friend of mine has what I'd call a 'pen fetish' and she got it for me. Now that I have it at work, though, I realize I don't really write much.

I keep hoping to get a voicemail but I keep answering the phone because it would be silly just to let a call go to voicemail so I could use my pen.

Don't you wish you had my problems? Heh heh. I'll take the pen home...I do write there.

AND - Miz Sandra gave me a very pretty journal set...one regular and one for dreams. Not sure if that's a tease about my dream post....but I can use my new pen in my new journal. I'm totally set.

My daughter is in charge of my birthday party. Because, I figure, she's the only reason I'm having one. I mean...who has a 35th birthday party?

But she is taking her responsibility very seriously. I got 6 phone calls from her yesterday and 3 today. And this morning, she told me - no matter what, I was not to look in her closet because that's where the secret balloons were.

Should be a good time. Everyone should have a party planned by an almost-3-year-old at least once. I'm guessing the cake will be really heavy on the frosting. She asked me if she could have LOTS of candles on her cake...just like mine.

Someday, m'dear, someday. Don't rush it.

***update to previous post: I...um...decided to delegate one of the trips to one of my trainers. The trip to Salt Lake...the bumpiest one. (He was jazzed to go...and I didn't do it just to miss the flying. It was really a good business decision...really...swear.)

Yeah, yeah....

Apparently I'm doin' two-a-days here in blogland.

I need a distraction right now. This second.

One good thing that happened during my seemingly endless divorce was that my work travel was nil. I couldn't travel. So I didn't.

Now, though, I have 3 trips in April. They're all west and they all require travel through the Rockies.

Who cares? You might ask....and why?

Me. I care.

Because travel through the Rockies means take-offs and landings are bumpy. Turbulent. Windy.

Scary.

So I keep trying to book my flights and I keep just shutting the browser window.

Open travel site.

Search for flights.

Still nothing I like. (like a car that goes really fast or something...)

Shut the window.

Repeat.

Not very effective.

I managed to book a trip for pleasure...though that's mainly due to my denial that it's actually going to happen. I know it is...logically....I have the tickets. But I haven't even begun to deal with the reality that I'll be on a plane for a long time with my daughter. Which means I have to be calm, cool, and collected.

Mind you....I'm not some sort of freakish flyer. Outwardly calm...I can manage that. But my wee one...she's insanely perceptive. Ach...another day, I'll worry about that another day.

Today, I need to book these work trips.

Somebody pass the Valium. Or the whiskey. Or a paper bag into which I can breathe.

Or all of the above? That would have me showing up to my meetings quite professionally, don't you think?

Blech.

Last night I was throwing some clothes in the hamper and my daughter tugged on my pant leg.

"Here, Mama."

"What is it?" I asked, still involved in my task.

"Mama, somethin's on my finger. It's sticky."

I turned around to look...my mind racing through thoughts of what might be on her finger.

She held her tiny, darling finger up in my face. And on the end of that small digit was a giant booger. Seriously....huge.

I scrunched my nose and squinted...doubting still that I was seeing what I was seeing. I asked her what it was....hoping my eyes were deceiving me.

She just looked at me, still holding her finger near my face. Then she rolled the disgusting thing between her finger and thumb.

"OH! Don't!! Get a tissue next time! That's disgusting," I said as I reached for a Kleenex and using the reach as a cover for my gag. I'm such a damn wimp.

While I was grossed out, at the same time I was thinking how lucky I was that she didn't just smear it somewhere or even worse....eat it. I've heard of that happening. Ya gotta count your blessings, right?

Once everything was under control, I asked her why she was giving "it" to me. I told her she could just get a tissue and clean her nose herself.

"Daddy tells me to do it this way."

Of course he does.

Keep Yer Name, Woman!

That's my note to self after today.

I woke up to the stark reality that my dream was just a dream...which started my day off with me feeling crabby.

On my list of things to do today was all the 'administrative' crap that comes with a divorce. Namely...heh, heh...getting my name changed on all the things that I got it changed on 5 years ago.

First thing I needed was a certified copy of my divorce decree. No problemo...just a drive to the courthouse. Which I made gladly.

It was a beautiful morning....radio blaring...only a 45 minute drive. Yeah. 45 minutes.

I got to the counter and asked for what I needed.

The lady points to a sign pasted to the counter that reads: Slide down counter for certified copies.

I chuckled because I immediately pictured myself sliding down the counter. But I just stepped the 3 steps down to the next window.

That same woman walked to the window and asked me what I needed. I blinked a few times and repeated my initial request.

She wrote down my file number and disappeared only to come back a few minutes later to tell me the file wasn't available.

I told her my attorney had requested a certified copy and asked if maybe my file was somewhere being copied already.

"No. That wouldn't be it," she replied.

Really wishing I'd gotten the other clerk, who was male, I took a deep breath.

"Well, could you please check? I drove 45 minutes to get here," I said.

"No. There's nowhere for me to check," she answered.

"It would be so helpful if you could just take a look at the computer. I really need a copy today," I pleaded.

"I'm not supposed to do that," she answered. (But I could tell she was thinking about it...)

"I realize it would be an exception but it would really make a difference to me," I almost begged.

She rolled her eyes and walked away. Took a few phone calls. Talked to a co-worker. Then she sat down at her computer for about 15 seconds, got up and walked to the desk behind her, grabbed my file and came back to the counter.

"It was in the 'to be certified copy' pile," she told me.

I didn't gloat. I walked out with two certified copies.

I took the afternoon off to do the rest of the stuff. I thought it would be really slick since I could get it all done at one place...and get my daughter's passport, too!

But it was like that story about giving the mouse a cookie. Holy crap.

I needed my birth certificate to show where I was born because SOMEBODY listed the wrong birthplace on my daughter's birth certificate. Idiot.

But my birth name is different than my maiden name so my birth certificate could possibly belong to a total stranger. Luckily, I have my name history in a series of legal documents so I could prove that I am who I am.

Then, in addition to my birth certificate as proof of where I was born they wanted a second legal document.

What? Who has two legal documents verifying where they were born? Not me.

So I couldn't get that fixed. But I got started on my daughter's passport application. Which is going to end up looking like it belongs to a mini-criminal because she absolutely would not smile for her photo. In fact, she scowled. I finally had to ask the lady to stop attempting to make her smile because that was just making it worse. My daughter, I know, was thinking 'What is wrong with that lady?!'

I needed to fix my driver's license and my passport so they match. Driver's license was fairly simple but because we started it second, the lady put my married name all over my passport application.

So I had to do that again. On a good note, I got to have a new photo for my driver's license and it's much better than the last one. I was 7 months pregnant in the last one...and now...my real weight is on my license. WOOHOO!!

Anyway - we were going back and forth between my name change stuff and my daughter's passport. In the midst of that we had to have the whole prove-I-can-get-a-passport-for-a-minor-child-without-the-father-present conversation. I pulled out my certified decree and opened it to the page listing me as sole custodian.

(Ok...I'll admit here that I have the signed permission form from him saying I can get her a passport. But I wanted to see if sole custody requires his permission for legal stuff.)

It doesn't. So that's cool.

Anyway - the lady starts reading my decree and it lists all my FKAs. As in Formerly Known As. There's the birth name and the maiden name and the first married name and the second married name.

I look like Elizabeth Taylor on paper. The clerk decides I should fill out an additional form listing the reasons for all my names. The form is called "Termination of Marriages".

A wee bit humiliating. I was almost able to complete it....except I couldn't remember details of my first marriage. Like when it happened. She told me to guess. Seemed pretty official.

But what do I know?

I know, on the off chance there is a next time, to keep my own damn name. Even if nobody can ever say it right and I'm always saying 'It sounds like strawberry' but with one 'r'.

Just a dream...

The early morning light cast shadows across the rumpled bed.

She rolled over and stretched...still in that place between dream and life....not yet realizing which was real. She sighed, luxuriating in the feeling. Consciousness crept in as she became fully awake. She peeked...just a little....then closed her eyes again.

Hoping to return to the dream.

To the place where he had been. Where holding his hand had given her peace. The peace, that in her dream, she had recognized.

She reminisced about the dream...eyes still closed.....her mind flitting about grasping at the wisps she could still reach.

The place had been foreign to her but she'd known it....the other people around her were strangers but it made sense they were there. In dream logic.

The only thing familiar in the dream had been him....and holding his hand. Even that had been just a feeling because she hadn't seen his face.

She also knew, from experience, that once awake it was impossible to return to dreamland. It didn't stop her from trying. For a little while, anyway....not too long because she knew.

She knew it was just a dream.