My Mask

At therapy yesterday my new therapist asked me why I was there.  She said I presented a very together image.  When I told her it was just my mask she asked me what I was hiding.  I didn’t have a great answer for that.  I’m insecure, but what am I insecure about?  So I decided to let the mask down.  Just to see what I really am hiding.

The problem is, I still don’t know what I’m hiding.  My husband keeps asking me what is wrong and I have no idea.  And now I can’t seem to put the mask back in place.  I feel like my head is floating in water and I can’t seem to smile to save my life.  I want the mask back.  I was comfortable pretending to be happy.  Now I’m just sleepy and a little sad and everyone can see it.

He’s Just Not That Into You

I just finished watching this movie called “He’s just not that into you.”  I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was good.  A little hard to follow at first as we’re meeting all these different people, after the fourth POV switch you start to see the interconnection between everyone.  Not all of the characters know each other, but they are all woven together.  Kinda like seven degrees of Kevin Bacon.

There is the “happily married” couple, the couple that has lived together for seven years, the perky, cute, and slightly desperate single girl, the “hot” single yoga instructor girl, the real estate agent guy, the bar manager guy, and the single advertising girl.  The two couples know each other and the perky single girl knows the married woman.  The real estate agent and the bar manager share an apartment and the yoga instructor has an on again/off again relationship with the real estate agent.  The yoga instructor and the advertising girl are friends.  The perky single girl goes on a date with the real estate agent and meets the roommate while trying to accidentally on purpose run into the real estate agent again.  Meanwhile the hot yoga instructor meets and seduces the married man in hopes that he will leave his wife for her.  The female half of the living together couple gets fed up with his refusal to not get married and lays out an ultimatum and they end up split up for the entire movie.

Confused yet?  I was a little at first, but after a while it all pulled together.  I was very satisfied with the end of the movie though and even cried at one point.  If you haven’t seen it, but are planning to, don’t read the next paragraph.

The married couple end up divorced because he was a lying bastard who was just using the yoga instructor (and she dumps him too).  The couple that broke up end up back together because even though he didn’t want to get married he really was committed and loved her.  He gave her a surprise proposal and said that he needs to make her happy to even have a chance at happiness himself.  I cried.  The cute perky girl and the bar manager end up together after a friendship and then falling out when he finally realizes that he fell for her and didn’t even recognize it.  The yoga instructor tries to get back with the real estate agent but realizes she doesn’t love him and they go back to being friends.  He ends up with the advertising girl, a strange pairing, that we don’t really see coming.

You can read again now.  All in all, the end wasn’t the fairy tale happily ever after but everyone does seem to end up happy.  At the beginning and the end of the movie there is a line that I really liked.  And it’s so true and that is what compelled me to write this.

The line is this (or something close to this):  “When we’re little girls we’re told if a boy hits you it’s because he likes you.  So at an early age we’re made to believe that if a guy treats us badly it’s because he cares.”  And you know what?  I have told my daughter this.  And damn it, she doesn’t have to put up with being treated badly by anyone…including 9-year-old boys who don’t know how to express what they’re feeling and later on adult men who still act like 9 year old boys.

It was the best birthday ever!

That’s what C told me after his party.  The chaos and confusion that seems to go with really good kids parties was all there and all the kids seemed to have a great time.  So, I guess it really was a great party.

I, however, feel like I have been run over by a semi.  I am so tired that I don’t think I could actually sleep if I tried right now.  But when we were walking out of the action zone and my little boy looked up at me and said “this was the best birthday ever,” well that made every chaotic, insanity filled moment worth it.

Next stop, June 15 and the ice skating rink.  My daughter will be nine.  God save us all.

I Have Made A Major Mistake!

When girls are little, or so I’ve been told, they often dream about their weddings.  They dream of their dresses and bridesmaids and flower girls.  Not me.  I never dreamed of getting married, because quite frankly, I never thought I would.  My young childhood was full of abuse and horrible relationships with men.  By the time I was old enough to understand that marriage is supposed to be a happy, fulfilling relationship between two people who love each other…well lets just say that between my extremely low self-esteem, budding weight problems, and continued abuse I never, ever thought I’d find a normal man willing to have sex with me let alone marry me.

What I did dream about though, was having children!  Since I was eleven and my cousin was born I have found myself drawn to people and creatures that need love and nurturing.  My cousin and I were inseparable for years, to the point that he called me Mommy when we were together.

Well, my dream has come true.  I have two beautiful, wonderful, sometimes exasperating children of my own.  They grew in my body, nursed at my breasts, and now are trying to slowly “Mom” me to death.  I couldn’t ask for anything more.  This brings me to my major mistake.

My son’s 6th birthday was Saturday.  Birthdays are an event in my house.  I don’t remember birthday parties or celebrations, although I’ve seen pictures so I know I had them.  But I do birthdays in a very big way.  One year I sewed a dozen backpacks, the ones from Dora the Explorer, made maps, and designed a scavenger hunt where each child got 12 separate prizes for in their backpack.  Another year I made Tarzan loincloths and Jane dresses for the kids and turned my dinning room into a jungle.  And yet another year I made it under the sea, complete with a Spongebob costume for each child to slip on and have a Polaroid taken and put in a picture frame to take home.  This year, dance pictures fell on my C’s birthday.  It was like six hours of picture-taking, costume changing hell.  And I’m still struggling with pneumonia.  I knew, though, that the day of his birthday was not going to be the event it deserved to be while competing with these pictures.  So I planned his party for Monday, tomorrow.  We’re going to a kid action zone place where they have video games, bounce houses, jungles gyms, and cardboard tasting pizza.  My head, and lungs, already hurt.

Where’s my mistake?  I didn’t even realize it myself until about an hour ago.  I forgot to order the damn cake!  How could I be so stupid!  My boy is 6 and so excited about his birthday and his party with all of his friends and I forgot to order the damn cake.  I’m praying that I can call first thing in the morning and still have time to get one since his party isn’t until 5:30 in the afternoon.  I’m such an idiot.  I already let him down by letting his actual birthday go by without fanfare and now this.  I hate myself right now.

I went to the doctor.

I went to the doctor and I have pneumonia.  They put my on prednisone, biaxin, and some cough syrup with codine.  Of course, I am to continue my inhaler and before I left the office they gave me a nebulizer treatment.

I got a little slack from my husband for a few hours, but it all started up again today.  When am I going to clean the house?  He’s not supposed to take my son to dance.  Etc., etc., etc.  I flipped out today and told him maybe he’ll get lucky and one of these days sickness will kill me and he can find someone who can keep the house in perfect order.  Then I told him I’d be laughing from the afterlife as he realized just how much he needs me and how much I really do.  And that he’d wish then he’d taken better care of me.  At that point he started going on about money and how we wouldn’t have anything without him.  Well la de da.  I could go to work and make money too.  It’s my planning and budgeting that allows us to have so much and do so many things.  He also got offended because he did his regular chores today and I told him that he didn’t take care of me.  I pointed out that he didn’t volunteer to do any of my chores or regular activities and in fact he yelled at me when I didn’t move fast enough or couldn’t do something.

Tempers flared and feelings were hurt, but we just kind of let things die out.  Sort of.  At bedtime, my night to tuck in, after I had gone to pick my daughter up at dance (after dropping my son off earlier in the day, dropping her off sometime after him, getting her dinner before she went to dance) I had to go to Walmart to pick up some cupcakes for my son for school tomorrow.  His birthday is Saturday and he has special snack tomorrow.  Anyway, it was my night to put them to bed.  Of course, he didn’t offer to help in any way.  I was fighting with my son, who said he had to go to the bathroom AGAIN, and I was wavering on my feet.  I was leaning against a wall in the hallway, telling my son to stop fooling around and get to bed.  My husband snaps at me to go downstairs he would handle it.  I told him that I would take care of it, I didn’t need to give him another reason to yell and bitch at me.  He didn’t even deny it.  Just gave me a look and went about his business.

Anyway, I’m done for now.  I have to lay down.  I’m so tired and sick and sick of everything.

Sick of it! Again!

I’ve been sick for almost 3 weeks.  It started out with what seemed like allergies; runny nose, sore throat.  It turned into a cough and hacking up nasty phlegm.  Now I’m just coughing violently and running fever off and on.  I have no energy and feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.

I’m sick to death of being bitched at because the house isn’t cleaned up.  I’m sick of having to clean up after everyone, including my 32 year old husband.  I’m just so sick of it.  He starts this shit and what can I say?  Yes, the house is a wreck.  Yes, you work full time.  It must be all my fault that everything looks like this.  Oh wait, is that your trash from yesterday’s dinner?  Hmm, and how many of your glasses and plates have I taken to the kitchen and loaded into the dishwasher?  I guess none of that matters because I don’t work a full time job and even if I did it would still be my responsibility.

I’m so sick of everything falling on my shoulders.  I’m tired and sick and no one gives a shit until they are inconvenienced by it.  This is the kind of shit that makes me want to slit my wrists and then sit back and laugh as no one can figure out how to survive without me.