Be amazed.

Distractions

About two hours ago I decided I was going to write because I missed writing last week and also Monday.  I opened this page and I couldn’t think of a title so I decided to check my fake Facebook page.  There I saw an ad of a bra that it’s like a sticker but also holds the breast so I had to see what was that about.  It seems that those washable stickers hold up to 10kg/22lb!! Holy f#$k if that’s true!

There is only one way to know if they truly work and that’s to try them but I’m still not convinced.  It would be amazing to wear a bra that doesn’t squeeze me or makes grooves in my shoulders.  I think only women with big boobs understand what I mean.  And 10kg!  That’s a lot!  I feel like going to the kitchen and weighing my merchandise on the digital scale.   The eyeball method tells me that they should be less than half but I could be wrong.

What’s keeping me from doing it?  The two men working to fix the faucet in the bathroom.

So that’s how most of my days go.  I decide to do one thing and then I get distracted and do something else but still I can’t finish doing that because there is always something or someone preventing me from going further.

These men told me that fixing the faucet was going to take 2 hours.  They’d been here for 2.5 hours and I can’t see much improvement.  A while ago one told me: “There is some water coming but it’s not as much as I expected”.  I wonder how much water he expects.  And then I thought: “This is a really easy job… They only had to plug the machine to the water pipes and let it work.  Meanwhile, they sit in their van and come to check every now and then.  I’m sure that beats unclogging a toilet.  So this is the way to go.  Expect more water to come from the faucet… and keep expecting more and more probably until just before noon when is their lunch break.  Then magically all the needed water will be there”.

A few weeks ago when they came to fix the faucet and the heating, they told my landlord that in extreme cases, it could take up to 4 hours.  I bet this is an extreme case.

I’ll finish writing now and go check on them.  Maybe do some more research on the bra.  I want to see the negative reviews.  I want to know if when removing the sticky stuff it feels like a wax job.

I think I’m bored today.

 

 

What you wish for

On Monday I wrote about how jealous my daughter is.  It’s unbelievable sometimes.  I was waiting for a big scene during dinner but when she got back from school, the first thing she did was to open the fridge.

“Oh, that’s a very small cake!” I heard her saying.  I think she was relieved that her birthday cake was much bigger.  I knew right there that I was off the hook, that I could relax because I was not going to hear her saying that I love my sons more than I love her.

Then it was dinner time.  I cut the lasagna and asked my birthday boy: “Which piece would you like?”

So he said: “Give me that one there, the most difficult to get”.  He’s that way, just to be funny.

I offered the second piece to my husband.. I asked: “Would you like this piece? It’s a bit burned”.  I know that he loves the crunchy top.

He answered: “No, please give me this corner”.

Then I gave a piece to my daughter and after that I asked my ex. “Which one would you like?”

He said: “That one” pointing at the piece I had offered to my husband before but he had rejected.

So I grab the spatula and when I placed the piece on the plate, there was a hair in it.  I remember writing on Monday that I was secretly hoping for a hair in the lasagna so my daughter could see that I also make mistakes on other birthdays and not only on hers.

I had to laugh… I removed the hair and said: “It’s cleanish…” and I was waiting for some kind of comment from my ex because I  know how he is and how much he likes to hurt me or be funny at my expense.  And if he said something, I was going to reply: “Like that’s the dirtiest thing you would had put in your mouth”.  But he didn’t say anything.  I was surprised and still laughing .  I thought: “If I knew that my wish was going to come true, I would have wished for something better”.

I think I’ll spend the rest of the day wishing for things I really want.  Who knows? I may get some.

Commitment

Why is it so hard to keep a commitment? Maybe because commitments are long term plans and those are so difficult to make happen/fulfill/complete/carry on?

I realized that in order to commit to something, there has to be a lot of love involved.  It doesn’t matter what kind of commitment, a person has to love the cause.  Not enough love? Then the chance is big that the commitment is broken.

I love writing but I can’t seem to keep the commitment to write three times a week.

Today is my 2nd son’s 15th birthday.  My plans for today were to finish the cake that I learned the hard way that I must bake it at least, the day before and after that, make the requested lasagna.  I committed to prepare on my children’s birthdays, the food they want.  That’s the only day they can choose what they want to eat.  The other days they have to eat what’s on their plates.    That’s how much I love them.  Every birthday for as long as I can remember, I spent the day in the kitchen cooking whatever they wanted.  Some times thing went smoothly while other times the crazy or vague requests were on the edge of ruining my day.    I can deal with “lasagna” but it’s really hard to materialize “birthday food”.    I discovered also that “birthday food” is different for everybody and that’s why I was terrified of making the wrong choices and upset my daughter.

“Birthday food?  What exactly is birthday food?”

“You know, birthday food… what you eat when you go to a birthday”

“Like lasagna o pizza?”

“No, other things”

“Chips and cookies and hot dogs?”

“No, not junk food.  Birthday food.  Those things you can dip in a sauce”

So, according to my daughter, birthday food involves things you can dip in a sauce. Every day you learn something new.

My sweet princess is SO hard to please.  She’s the kind of person who doesn’t see the 3 million things you do right but will chew your ass about the one thing you did wrong or didn’t do…  So I decided to put carrots together with cucumbers and peppers on the tray to dip in cream cheese and that was SO wrong.

I wonder when she stopped liking carrots or why she didn’t tell me.  I’d do anything to avoid these kind of things but apparently, I don’t do enough because on my youngest son birthday everything was perfect and she complained about why for his birthday everything was good and on hers I put the carrots that she didn’t like.

So secretly, I’m kind of hoping someone finds a hair in the lasagna so I won’t be reminded of how much more I love my sons than her.

Really, if we all women are like that… I truly hope I’m not but while I was writing I remembered that more than once I asked my sweet husband to go to the supermarket and he forgot something on the list and well… you know how it goes.

Again, there has to be a lot of love involved in order to keep a commitment.  Any commitment.

 

That dreaded time of the year

Unbelievable it’s been a year already.  It truly seems like last week the last time I had to go for the yearly “ladies’ parts” check up.

I wrote about my experiences before and I think I have my reasons to be terrified.  Years ago when I lived in The Netherlands, I had to go for the check up every 5 years.  Those years also flew by and I truly hated it because the person inserting things in me was the same one who answered the phone at the front desk.   I really didn’t like that.  It’s like going to a restaurant and seeing a person cleaning the toilets and then you see the same person taking your order.   I don’t care if I went too far with my example but that’s how I felt… Awful!

Then I moved to Germany and I was talking to the mother of one of my son’s friends and she told me that here the check up is every year.   I know that’s a good thing but really, it’s not fun at all.   I remember then calling to make an appointment and asking for a female doctor.   There was no female doctor available for a very long time but I said I didn’t mind waiting.

The day had come so I had no choice.   I got to the doctor’s office and I went to give notice that I was there.  The girl told me: “Dr.  XXXXX is sick, Dr. YYYYYY is taking her patients”

“Is doctor YYYYYY a woman?”

“No”

After that answer I tried to explain that I had specifically made the appointment with a female doctor and that  I’ve been waiting for a very long time.  She asked me if I wanted to make another appointment or if I wanted to see Dr. YYYYYY.

I started crying.  The girl didn’t know what to say or what to do.  I couldn’t stop sobbing. All kind of thoughts went through my head.  What if this guy is huge? What if he touches me in a funny way?  I don’t want some bear size hands inside me!

I was shaking my head and probably snotting all over.  Then the girl said: “He’s a VERY good doctor.  Really good”.   So I decided it was better to do it and be done with it.

I was still crying when the doctor called my name and you have no idea the smile on my face when I saw that he was a very small man with very little hands.

About 3 years ago the sweet doctor retired and his daughter took his place and the good thing is, she’s even smaller!  Now I don’t feel that bad when I have to take off my clothes.  First I’ll be naked from the waist down and when she’s done, she’ll ask me to get my pants and panties on and get naked from the waist up.   I really like that system, it’s less humiliating.

I just hope I get there and she’s not sick.  I don’t want the bear size doctor, I prefer the free sample size one.

And It’s Friday, I’m in Love!  And I have the perfect song for today, I think it’s very fitting, at least part of it because I don’t see myself negotiating with the doctor and asking her to take her clothes off.

Enjoy Adam Ant

“Strip”

(written by:   Leslie Goddard Stuar & Marco Pirroni)

 

It’s at times like this the great heaven knows
That we wish we had not so many clothes
So let’s loosen up with a playful tease
Like all lovers did through the centuries

We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
Uh-huh-huh

When it gets so hot, the end of the day
You may find your clothes getting in the way
If a pretty dress hides your true desire
Fold it nice and slow, throw it on the fire

We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
Uh-huh-huh

We don’t need to see what the butler saw
Or a mirrored room with a mirrored floor
All those sneaky looks gazing down on you
Are no substitute for our rendezvous

We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
Uh-huh-huh

It’s at times like this the great heaven knows
That we wish we had not so many clothes
So let’s loosen up with a playful tease
Like all lovers did through the centuries

If you think it’s cheap or a bit risqué
Please don’t say a word I’ll just slip away
I am not a man who believes in lies
Like an octopus with big x-ray eyes

Don’t freeze up girl, you’re looking quite a sight
Be generous, I want it all tonight!

We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?
We’re just following ancient history
If I strip for you will you strip for me?

 

 

 

sources:

youtube.com

azlyrics.com

 

It doesn’t get easier

I think we all agree that it sucks getting old.  I’m not sure what’s the worst part but I think it’s when we compare what we were able to do some time ago and what we can do now.

I believe it should be different.  For example, things should get easier instead of more complicated because we have years of experience.  For example: walking.  We walked a lot in ours lives so now walking should be “like a walk in the park” and not like: “please pass me the oxygen tank”.

Other things like hooking or unhooking the bra, for example.  How many times we did it before?  Why the hell is not getting easier?

Don’t you feel sometimes that things are unfair?   Like when you try to teach your kids something and they look at you like if you were too old to remember how things work.

The other day I was talking to my husband and he kind of called me middle age.

“What?!?  How old is a middle age person?   And when is someone old?”  I can’t recall exactly what he said but I can assure you, he was tactful… Or as I prefer to say, he was terrified of me because he knows that when I hear something I don’t like, my reaction tends to be a bit explosive and he ends up with his mouth open but speechless.

His vague answer made me go to the computer and look it up: “Who’s considered middle age”. One of the search results on top of the list was an article from huffpost.com saying that according to a study, youth ends at 35 and old age begins at 58.

WTF? According to them I’ve been a middle age woman for the past 12 years and I’ll be old in 11?  Just like that?  Middle age?  That sounds like an insult to me.  Why the need to put a name on those years?  One should be young and then old and one can choose when they are old, because “you are as old as you feel”, right?   I don’t feel middle age.  I feel young or I feel old, nothing in between.   That article did not make me happy and I had my explosion in front of the computer.   Now I understand my husband.

These past days I’m feeling old.  Or better said, my body feels old.  For a while now my back hurts and on Monday I woke up with a stiff neck that it doesn’t matter how much I try to move it or massage it, it’s as my cousin’s grandma used to say: “Harder than boyfriend’s dick”.

So my options are: 1) complain – 2) do something.

Because I’m lazy, I chose option 1 and of course, it didn’t help me with the pain so I had to pick the second option and do something.

That’t when I decided to start working out a bit with the hope that my body feels as young as I do.

So far, I feel older because to the back pain I had,  I can add all kind of muscular pains in places I didn’t suspect there were muscles.  And I’m taking it really easy, less than 30 minutes a day.  I’m aiming to one hour but I’m not sure if I can do that at my age!

 

 

Repetitive

I really don’t like to be repetitive but it seems that I can only write about the same things over and over again.  When did my life get so boring?

Last Friday I made plans that in my head sounded great and really doable.  I woke up at the usual time to get my children ready for school and the second they were all gone, I started making the cake for my youngest son 7th birthday that was the next day.

I knew that the cake was going to take about two hours from the moment I started mixing the batter until I got it out of the oven.  So if my calculations were good, I was going to be done with it at 9.45am.  Apart from the cake, I had to tidy up a bit because my landlord was coming with a plumber to fix a broken faucet and replace something from the heating system in the basement.  Again, in my head that was going to take less than one hour so for sure I was going to be ready before 11am and then have a full hour to write my blog before the landlord came here at noon.  I even had picked the song for my Friday I’m in Love post that usually takes me quite a while to decide.

But of course, NOTHING went the way I planned.  The cake was in the oven 35 minutes longer than expected.  I knew that if I started cleaning and tidying up I was going to forget about the cake and burn it like it happened so many times before, so I decided to stay in the kitchen and make some of the decorations I wanted to put on the cake while keeping an eye on it.   That kind of multitasking, anyone can do, right?

I wanted to make a little fondant banner with my son’s name.  I bought this silicon thing with bunting that is very easy to use.  Better said, it was very easy to use last month when I did the banner for my daughter.  On Friday, the stupid silicon mold decided to be a bitch and it didn’t matter how much I kneaded the fondant or how much I brushed it with corn starch.  The little flags got stuck in it and there was no way to remove them without breaking them.

After many tries, I decided to stop doing the bunting and start cleaning before the landlord got here but I still had the cake in the oven and it was not smart to leave it alone.  So I cleaned a bit the mess in the kitchen while waited for the cake.  Then I tidied up the rest of the house and when I looked at the clock, it was after 11.30 so there was no way I could sit and write so I decided to change cloths and then maybe play my Words With Friends turns.   

I was kind of happy that I was going to have at least 15 minutes to rest.  I took my iPod, sat on the couch, watched outside and my jaw dropped when I saw my landlord sitting in her car.

“WTF!, it’s 11.45am!”  And then I remembered what my friend Esther told me a couple of years ago when I got on time to a meeting at school and everyone looked at me as if I had arrived 3 hours later.

“When German people say 10 o’clock, they mean 9.45.  Remember that”.

For a last minute person like me, 15 minutes it’s a lot of time.  And the last 15 minutes are probably the most productive minutes because it’s when I realize that it’s impossible to finish everything so I start running, grabbing and hiding everything I find on the way.

Before 11.50am everyone was here.   The plumbers couldn’t fix the faucet because they found that the problem wasn’t really the faucet but the pipes in the basement so they tried different things for over one hour without success.   They left around 1pm so I had very little time to hide the cake that was cooling down on the table before my children came back from school.

Saturday was even worse than Friday.  Nothing seemed to work.  After a few more tries, I got the bunting done but my plans to have the cake ready by 3pm, failed completely.    I finished 4.55pm and everyone was supposed to be here at 5 o’clock.

I can’t explain the level of stress and exhaustion I have and the things I should be doing but I’m writing my blog instead.

Priorities.

Why make plans?

Why exactly people make plans?  They don’t work every time and in my case, it seems that they never do.   I’m tired of making plans and back up plans and just in case plans.  No matter how much I plan, there is always something that makes my plans go down the toilet.  And I’m not fine with that.

I had all this week perfectly planned and I don’t think I have done 5% of the things I wanted to do.  My youngest son didn’t go to school this morning.  He has absolutely nothing.  Well, maybe an acute case of laziness.  The problem is that he knows a trick.  The day before around dinner time, he starts complaining.

“Mami, I have belly ache”

“I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning”

“But if I don’t, can I stay home?”

Ugh… Last year I sent him to school because I didn’t believe he was sick and he came back with a note from the teacher that I could translate as: “How the f#$k do you dare to send your sick son to school?!?”.  And that was nothing.   My son put his best acting face and said: “The teacher told us NOT to go to school if we are sick… but I went anyway and that’s not good.  I could have spread some disease.”

Now I really don’t know what to do.  I feel that I have that teacher watching my every move.  I don’t like it!

Children are so smart!  And we are so naive sometimes.  They have eyes and ears everywhere.  I remember when I was a child and adults tried to trick me or make me believe something while I was thinking how stupid they were for underestimating my intelligence.  All people grow up and lose their memory?  Really nobody remember their childhood?  I was the only smart child?  I don’t think so.  I’ve tried very often to trick my children and I have to admit that my success rate was very low.  The truth and a little explanation work much better and save a lot of time.

So my plans for the day are ruined again.  I’m amazed I could write because my boy is feeling kind of chatty today.  I have no idea what I’ll be able to do but I’m sure it’s not going to be what I wanted.  And that makes me pouty.

Let’s blame the hormones again.

 

 

 

Organization

One of the definitions of Organization is: a  manner of accomplishing something in an orderly or efficient way.

I guess I’m not nailing the organization thing yet because every little thing makes me turn aside from what I’m doing.  And I wish that was it.  I wish I could call it distraction and blame it on the hormones because I’m getting closer to “the change”.  But no, it’s not distraction because I never go back to what I was doing, instead,  I start doing a new thing, and then another,  and after a while I look around and scratch my head and I can’t believe after all these years, I still never learned some basic stuff, like: the mess will still be here in the morning, no matter how much I wish for the elves to come at night and tidy up for me.  Also that I cannot do many things at the time.  For example, I can crochet and watch a movie but I can’t learn German while I’m cooking because I burn the food.  But I still try.  The last thing I’m trying is playing Words With Friends with my left hand and practicing strumming on the mandolin with the right hand.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to split my brain”

I could tell by the look on his face that the straight jacket was a better fit for me than the red shirt I was wearing.  Still, I tried to explain that a person can learn to do more than one thing at a time.  So my sweet husband asked:

“And how are you doing?”

“Ugh… I just played a 2 points word… and I can’t get the strumming pattern right.  It’s supposed to be the first 2 strings down, then all the strings down and then all the strings up but I f@#k up every time.  This should happen naturally and it’s not.  It’s better when I’m not playing WWF but I’m sure there is a way that I can play 30 points words and strum something that resembles music at the same time.   If I could learn how to talk to a customer on the phone, use the computer mouse with my left hand, fill in the form with my right hand and all that with a smile,  then I can do this!”.   

No, it’s not only a matter of organization.  I’m struggling with time management and priorities…  And don’t forget, stubbornness.

A few years ago, I made writing one of my priorities.  Now I feel guilty if I do that, so I’m trying to find a balance and do all the things I have to do and also the ones I want to do, instead of only the ones I want to do and wait for the elves.  One may think it’s an easy task but if you were living in my head, you’d know that there is not such a thing as easy task.

I truly hope I come up with a solution soon because life tends to get every day more complicated and I can’t juggle so many balls… I can’t even juggle 2!  Which brings me to my bucket list and my terrible fear of death.   Well, at least I discovered that the fear is not of death itself but dying without being able to do all the things I want to do.  So terrifying…

Quality over quantity… But that leaves so many things out! I can’t devote myself to a thing perfectly done but at the same time I can’t tolerate things half ass done.   That thing called balance… F@#K IT!

So if you see me trying to multitask, please don’t judge.

 

Trying

I’m trying to see if I can write often but it seems I can’t.  Yesterday two of my children didn’t go to school so my morning was spoiled.  I’m not so fine with changing plans.

Today I woke up with a terrible headache and that makes things even more difficult.  I couldn’t practice playing my mandolin because I feel it’s too noisy.  Now I kind of get my children…  Learning to play an instrument is only fun for the person playing that instrument.  That reminds me when my son wanted to learn how to play the flute… So glad those days are over.

Hopefully next week I’ll be more ready to write and to read other people’s blogs.  I don’t like not being able to read but truly, my days are shorter than what I’d wish.  And maybe it’s just me being paranoid but sometimes I get the feeling people get mad if someone doesn’t read and like the stuff they wrote.   That’s reason number one why I don’t like Facebook but I still have the fake account because otherwise it’s impossible to use some apps… I hope that’ll change soon.  I don’t think it’s fair that they need to know ALL your information before they allow you to play a freaking game…. Ugh… I miss writing… Venting is great.   And just now I realize why my children kept asking me why I stopped writing… The more I write, the less they have to listen to me venting, ranting, swearing and stuff like that.  They know once I start, I go on and on until I’m out of breath.   While I write, only the keyboard suffers… and maybe my readers… Sorry!

And It’s Friday, I’m in love!  I miss that too. I enjoyed looking for a fitting song.  Maybe I should do that again.  Life is too short.  Dreaming is nice but making dreams come true,  is even nicer.

So here it goes a song that I’ve been practicing with my mandolin.  I think the lyrics are super nice, even if the subject could be painful for some.  And very painful for the people around me when I also attempt to sing along as I play it.   It felt very nice when my husband and one of my children said: ” Vast improvement!”.  I bet they were happier than me.

Today’s song is, Your Cheatin’ Heart.

Your Cheatin’ Heart
Writers: Warn Defever, Lovetta Pippen & Fred Thomas

Your cheatin’ heart
Will make you weep
You’ll cry and cry
And try to sleep
But sleep won’t come
The whole night through
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…

When tears come down
Like falling rain
You’ll toss around
And call my name
You’ll walk the floor
The way I do
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…

Your cheatin’ heart
Will pine some day
And crave the love
You threw away
The time will come
When you’ll be blue
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…

When tears come down
Like falling rain
You’ll toss around
And call my name
You’ll walk the floor
The way I do
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…

 

Enjoy this video of Hank Williams.

 

Sources:

azlyrics.com

youtube.com

Still breathing

Hi!
I know I didn’t write in a very long time and I’m sorry about it. Words are not flowing from my fingers like they did some years ago. It’s like a have a blockage of some kind.
My life has been nice and pretty uneventful. That kind of changed a couple of weeks ago. I may come back and write about it but I’m still not sure because I said to myself that I was going to write again when I had a theme to write about. Like I always did.
So now at 47 “the change” is even closer and whatever happens to me, people tend to imply that it’s because I’m getting old. Knowing that I’m not the only one getting older, doesn’t really help me much.
And let’s be honest, who wants to read about menopause?! I bet everyone is dying to hear about the extra hair (in the wrong parts, of course), the changes of mood, the hot flashes, to name a few.
So, I will try to rearrange my thoughts and find a subject that makes me happy because I miss writing and because my husband thinks it’s his fault I’m not writing anymore.
I’m still married to my amazement and the amazement of my two oldest boys who watch at my husband and think: “That has to be a super good man because THIS is not for everyone”. No, it’s not. He must love me very much. I can be pretty stubborn and my children… well, let’s call them “healthy”. That’s a word my grandmother used every time the children were a freaking pain in the ass. By the way, she died. Not when the doctors said she would, two years later. Stubbornness runs in my blood.
Now I’ll see if I can publish this because WordPress is looking much different to what I remember and I can’t find anything. I don’t like this version at all.

So this post was to say that I’m alive and that I may be returning soon.

Week… Whatever!

This is the fourth attempt at publishing this post. I hope it works this time.

I’m not sure which week it should be by now but I’m married for over 6 months and still happy.
I planned on writing so many times and I always postponed it for some reason. I could have done the same this time because in a bit I have to go and pick my son from kindergarten but I though: “What the hell! I can write a couple of paragraphs!”. So, here I am, still alive and wondering how the rest of you are because when I stopped writing, I also stopped reading blogs.
The funny thing is that I still take pictures of things that I would like to write about but when the moment comes, either I have to do something else, or my inspiration is completely gone.

These past weeks I’ve been finishing projects that I started very long ago. The kind of things that every time I looked at them, my eye twitched. Now some of those projects are finished so when I look at them, I smile. I love those little things that make me happy.

My kids are fine. Growing up and healthy. The weather still sucks and the worst part is not over yet. So far, we didn’t have any snow and I hope it stays that way.

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to my husband and he told me that he feels guilty because I’m not writing anymore. That made me feel a bit sad.
It’s strange but I don’t miss writing. Before I had the urge to write every day and if I didn’t, I felt like if something was missing. Now the only thing I miss is a couple of hours a day. Preferably in the evening. Also I’d like about 30-35 more hours in the weekend. Those always seem really short.

Well, we’ll see what happens next. Maybe I’ll start writing again soon. For sure I have a lot of pictures to show. And still, a lot to tell.

Week 6

Week 6. Still trying to catch up.
I don’t think it’ll ever happen.
In a couple of days my kids start school again. I can’t believe that almost six weeks have passed.
I would love to write about something that happened during the sixth week but I don’t remember anything anymore. That was back in June.
The only thing that comes to my mind is that school was about to end and my stress level was high but not as high as it is now.

I remember my school years. How much I dreaded the last weekend of the summer holidays. Specially Sunday.
School here starts on Thursday and I have the same stomachache that I used to have 35 years ago.
Unbelievable. I can’t remember what happened two months ago but I remember the school days like it was yesterday.

Some time in the end of June my kids went to Italy with their father to visit their grandparents.
When I asked my kids if they were happy to go, they said “yes and no”, except for my oldest son who said: “NO, I hate going there. It’s awful”.
The thing they like about going to their grandparents is when they go to the beach. The thing they hate about going there, is all the rest.
They usually go to the beach late in the afternoon because it’s VERY hot.
Also because they have to follow the protocol.
Breakfast that lasts almost until noon and then lunch that lasts almost until 4pm because I’m not sure if you are familiar with the Italian customs but sometimes meals have a lot of courses and then dessert, fruit and coffee.

When I remember, I want to cry. A meal with them was torture. I had to endure the same subjects of conversation over and over, mostly criticizing the rest of the family. But they can do that because they are “so perfect”.
That always made me cringe.
The more I think about it, the worse it gets.
My ex mother in law made my life really difficult. She was invasive and passively mean. She always put herself as the victim and fooled everyone with her Snow White face.

Before leaving, my ex asked me if I could pack the kids bags because I was good at it.
I can honestly say that in the 14 years that we were together, that was the ONLY thing he acknowledged that I was good at. For all the rest, I was useless.

After thinking for a bit, I said: “OK. I’ll do it”.
Then he asked: “Can you have the bags ready on Sunday when I pick the kids?”
“But you are leaving next week Saturday!”
“I know, but I want to check if you packed good things or not”
“Are you f#$king kidding me?!?”
“…..” Silence.
I went on: “If you want me to pack the bags, you’ll have them ready on Friday. Maybe Thursday evening if I got everything washed in time but not before”.
“But if you don’t pack nice things?”
“Then you’ll have to deal with it. And why do you want me to pack nice things? you NEVER go anywhere with them! You stay the two weeks at your parents’ house and only go to the beach in the evening. I’m not packing nice clothes so they can stain them with tomato sauce”.
“…..” Silence.
“So, do you want the bags on Friday or you pack them yourself?”
“Friday is fine. Please don’t pack old clothes, OK?”
“I’ll see what I can do. Anyway, your mother will complain no matter what you bring or do. But you already know that”.

So I packed my kids’ bags. I didn’t do it for my ex, I did it for my kids because I know how the w(b)itch is and my kids don’t deserve to listen to her more than what’s absolutely needed.

One day while they were in Italy I sent a message to my 2nd son asking how they were.
He replied: “Fine. We are in Pompeii”
“Are you really?”
“Yes”
“I’m glad you finally got to go somewhere”.

So I guess that being a bitch to my ex helped a bit. I think I’m still full of crap and when I have the chance, I let some go.
Also, when I get the chance to be in control, I sure don’t miss it.

I’m happy that finally my kids got to see something else other than their grandparents’ house and the beach (and use the nice clothes I packed for them!).

Week 5

Week 5. I have this tab with the title “Week 5” open in my browser for about 5 weeks. This is actually week 11.

I had all the intention to catch up and I had even make a plan on when to do it. Then I don’t know what happened but probably I got busy because it was one of the last weeks of school and there is always a lot of crap to do.
I think there is no way I’ll be able to catch up. I still didn’t reply to the Christmas e-mails. Let alone all the rest.

My sweet husband found a job that he doesn’t hate so much. He’s happy with the working hours. I’d probably be happier if instead of being from 6am, it was from 8am and somewhere closer.
He has to get up before 5am to be there on time. I decided that I wanted to get up with him and wait while he gets ready and drinks a couple of sips of his coffee because thank goodness, he pours the rest in a “to go” cup and drinks it on the way to work, while I go back to bed and take about 1 hour to fall back asleep. But I can’t complain, I get to sleep a little more.

Since I’m not writing this blog every day, I don’t know anymore what happened on the 5th week. I guess I miss writing a bit. It was very useful to search the posts and know exactly what happened and when.

Maybe if I finally publish this post and I keep writing, I’ll be able to tell you about some nice things that happened the following weeks.

We’ll see… I don’t know why I wrote “we’ll see”. I HATE “we’ll see”. “We’ll see” never happens.

Week 4

Week 4. I’m still trying to catch up and it seems impossible. I don’t know anymore what has the priority after my family. I wish I could split in four, maybe that way something gets done.

A couple of weeks ago my ex sent me a message saying he couldn’t take care of our kids until he felt better. He gave me two options: 1) I had to take care of them. 2) He was going to look for professional help.
OK. I know what kind of an asshole he can be and when he said professional help, he didn’t mean he was going to get a shrink, he meant some kind of social services.
I really don’t need someone coming to my house and telling me how I have to raise my kids.
I took that as a hidden threat but I didn’t let him know I was terrified so I accepted to take care of the kids for a while. I know they are my kids but having them ALL THE TIME instead of twice a week and every other weekend, it’s a lot.
I really miss those days alone enjoying the silence.
I’m afraid that my relationship will suffer from this.

Last week my ex called and he asked to talk to my husband because he said he couldn’t have a civil conversation with me. He said he needs to get better. I know that. I know that if he’s not well my kids are the ones suffering the consequences. But why he getting better has to mean that I get worse?

The other day I told him he had to take care of the kids because I had plans and he got mad and said that he wasn’t feeling well yet. So what? I have to change all my plans because he doesn’t feel well?
If he doesn’t feel well, he has to go to the doctor. Or ask his family to help him take care of the kids and the house. Not that they will help much, on the contrary, it’ll be like having even more obstacles.

I’m doing all I can. I’m very grateful of my sweet husband who’s being amazing in this situation, even though sometimes he feels like going for a long walk.

The rest is all ok. I’m counting the days until the summer holidays. Two more weeks.
The weather has been nice for a few days and now it’s rainy, cold and windy. It sucks. The weather forecast says it’ll rain the next 10 days. It looks like the nice weather was here while I had my period and that will come back when I have my period again. I hope I’m wrong. I need to be wrong.

My sister was operated a few days ago. She had several cysts in her ovaries. The doctor told her that the cause could be because she has endometriosis (when endometrial cells grow outside the uterus). That scared me too.
It’s not nice to have the ghosts of hereditary diseases chasing you. Like if it wasn’t enough having to deal with the hand you were dealt.

After I read this post, it seems that I’m sad and depressed. I’m not. I’m only a bit overwhelmed and mad at my ex.
Some things never change.

Week 3

Week 3. Actually, almost week 5. I’m trying to catch up but I put priority in the house. I already know that I’ll never catch up with laundry so I don’t even understand why I bother. Maybe because I don’t like when my kids complain about not having anything to wear. That’s not true. The truth is that they don’t like to look for the clean clothes in the baskets. Because I still have issues with that. I don’t mind washing, drying and folding. My problem is putting everything back in its place. That’s what kills me.
I know it’s easier to find everything in the closet and my kids know it. What I’m trying to do is to teach them that in order to find clothes there, the clothes should be put there in the first place. And that EVERYONE could do that, not only me. So it’s either “we all do it” or they have to look in the baskets or wait until I feel like doing the awful job. And that doesn’t happen so often.

News this week: Sweet husband passed the driving test, found a job and got the letter to pick up his residence permit card. Maybe now I can relax. Or at least, have something less to worry about.

My plants, the ones that bloomed, look quiet good except the tomatoes that you can tell they are not so happy about the low temperatures at night. They look a bit yellowish.
We ate some leaf lettuce and it tasted wonderfully. Also the two radishes that we harvested, were very nice.
Our dreamed corn field will look like one if we plant more seeds soon, otherwise it’ll be like a scattered land with some corn plants.

I’m not sure if I ever mentioned that my husband and ex have a very good relationship. So good, that it’s awkward to me. In a way, I’m super happy because that’s good for my kids. I really don’t need my ex saying crap about Bobby. He can save all the shit he has inside, only for me. Like he always did.
Anyway, it’s kind of reciprocal so I’m not complaining.

I don’t want to write a long post so I’ll save something to write in the next one.