"Bust"ed

I lose my keys all the time. It's pathetic really. Every time we leave the house there is a massive search for my missing keys before we can actually go anywhere. This morning was no exception. My son couldn't find his gym shoes, so he ended up missing the bus and needing a ride. So, when it came time to leave, we looked everywhere. Emptied the toy boxes, checked all my pant pockets, looked in the cupboards, sifted the litter box, and so on.

Finally, it came to me. I had tucked the keys in my bra last night before bed when I took them away from my daughter. This is not the first time, no, this is the second time I have lost my keys in my bra. The first time my kids were late to school. I had to walk them in to get a tardy slip. When the woman working in the office asked the reason for our tardy, my oldest refused to be deterred, although I was stepping on his toes and clearing my throat like a mad woman, my son offered up the truth. With a dirty look in my direction he said, "we are late today because our mother put her keys, in her bra, and forgot they were there." She just scribbled 'unexcused' on the paper, and I went on my merry way with a very red face. It doesn't appear that I've learned much from that experience, does it?

The person who comes up with some kind of lojack chip that can be placed in a key fob and then tracked online, will make a fortune.

And for the people assuming that Imust just have put my keys down on my bra, while it was sitting on my dresser, you are wrong. I was wearing it...both times, and no, I wasn't even the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Living large, back in charge

Well, Hubby is gone. I'll miss him terribly. However, first I need to celebrate our return to our regularly scheduled programming! The thing about having lived alone (albeit with many children) for the last year and then some, is that, I've grown to like it. I'm selfish by nature. When it is just me and the kids, I don't have to share the remote, or watch stupid movies instead of football, hear my husband bitch about my beer being too strong, or "sleep on the edge of the bed, for no stinkin' man..." *Someone other than me knows those are song lyrics, right? Please name the title and artist in the comment section. Please?*

Right this moment, I am snarfing down pita chips with a spicy dip that my husband hates, drinking an IPA which my husband swears tastes like vodka, and playing on my netbook while watching the Jags suck ass. Heaven, just heaven. Speaking of football, I'm bummed because Dallas played on Thanksgiving (of course we won) and so there is little on right now for me to get stoked about...and I missed the Dallas game in favor of figure skating, so now I'm sure you understand why the remote is happy to have been returned her rightful place, at my side.

By this next next week, I'll be missing my other, better, half. Right now though, I'm going to hang ten on my wave of loneliness.

Dumping my brain, to try to make it, make sense

My husband met and got engaged to his ex-wife while she (he would find out later) was still married to her second husband. My husband adopted his own son when he married his ex in 1988. They had another son, then she met her fourth husband. She was pregnant when they separated, my husband gave up parental rights to his third child (maybe, it isn't known definitively) and her third child was adopted by husband number four. She went on to have a fourth child with her fourth husband. My husband had custody of his oldest child in 1991/1992 when his ex-wife left. Eventually, she wanted Shan back, so in 1992/1993, my husband gave her custody.

He stayed in close contact with his ex, her new husband, and the children as well as could be expected with them living in California and my husband residing in Florida. In 1994, another military transfer landed the ex and husband number four back in Florida. We also met in 1994.

From 1994 to 2001, we had the children very liberally. They (including my step children's half siblings) spent every weekend and lots of in between time with us. In 2001, they decided that they didn't have time for us any more. They had stopped wanting to visit and their mother was loathe to enforce visitation, so my husband chose to let them be. It is suspected that her fear of them wanting to live permanently with us, which would have stopped her child support payments, caused her to go to extreme measures to keep the children away from us.

In 2007, my oldest step son showed up on our doorstep. He was 20. He had two children and was being sued for support. He did not then, nor does he now have anything to do with his kids. We took him in. He lived with us for a year. That time was awful for our family. My husband's job had slowed down and the there was no overtime to be had. We struggled to buy groceries and clothes for the kids, but, somehow we stretched our means and made room for Shan. While he was with us, he went once a month to drill (Army reserves) and drilled for two weeks in Summer. Most of his pay went directly to child support. The rest he bought games with. He contributed NOTHING during his stay with us. He received a large sign on bonus in 2008 and he returned to his mother's house. He stayed there until recently when the money ran out.

My younger step son joined the Navy. He was away for the majority of the period of time that Shan was with us in '07. In June, Shad was discharged from the Navy. He returned to live with his mother after leaving the service.

In September, the boys' mother put her foot down. She is going through divorce number four, and has no room in her budget for adult children who don't contribute. The boys spent time bouncing between friends' homes until they had exhausted their welcome. Then Shad reconciled with his mother and returned to her home for five weeks while Shan stayed with us.

The problems started when Shad showed up on my doorstep. The situation around our house deteriorated very quickly until I threw both of them out. The boys then went to stay with my husband's brother, and then his sister. On Thanksgiving, my husband called his family to let them know (the condensed version) of what had happened and encouraged them to close their doors to the boys, as they had stolen from us, were violent, and unpredictable.

When the boys found out that they were no longer welcome with my husband's family, they returned to our house making yet more threats and trying to kick down the door. I physically blocked the door to prevent my husband from going after the boys. The neighbors scared them off. Their father procured restraining orders against them yesterday. I am hoping that they will stay away.

I shared the lengthy and complicated family history because I wanted to shed some light on why the boys might be as messed up as they are. It is not to say that their mother didn't do a good job raising them, it was more to explain that their formative years were very unstable. In hindsight, maybe we should have forced the boys to spend the time with us, maybe it would have made a difference. Maybe not.

Their problems at the moment are centered around the fact that they want me gone. They want my husband to believe that I have made mistakes similar to their own mother, and that I am unworthy to be his wife. No, I'm not speculating, they actually said this. They believe that if they can just get rid of me and my children, their dad will give them the house to stay in and that he'll support them, while they try to grow up. Again, their words, not mine.

If only they were mature enough to see that what they want will never come to pass. My husband came to this country as a young man. He has supported himself since then, doing anything from washing dishes, to serving, to finally engineering. He put himself through college, and then through graduate school. My husband doesn't believe in free rides. We are at an impasse. I hope that the boys move on. Maybe go to their mother's family in Virginia, or better yet Morocco. I just want to be able to move forward from here.

The damage that they have done is extensive. They have cast aspersions on my character with my husband's family, who already believes me to be the Great White Satan, so this was certainly not a welcome happening. They have hurt me and my children in ways that I can barely begin to describe. I have loved those kids for many years now, most of their lives, really. It is very hard to come to terms with them not reciprocating the love that I had for them, but worse still, outright hating me.

Then there are my children, who worshipped their oldest brother. The same brother that has made threats against their lives and stolen from them. How do we mend this hole in their hearts? How can I help them come to terms with something that I, as an adult, am struggling with?

My husband's heart is broken. He is absolutely crushed. It is said that time heals all wounds...I'm not so sure that is true.

Hate

The facts:
Step children came by the house on Thanksgiving. They tried to kick in my door. Door frame splintered.

The threats:
Kill my husband. Kill me. Kill my children.

The results:
Two restraining orders. A new door and frame. A ruined holiday.

The aftermath:
Feel like crap, can't think, can't write, can't focus. Fear.

Children are blessings, but, I don't always feel blessed

When I make any type of negative reference to motherhood, my mother responds with, "you wanted it, you got it, Toyota." She usually follows this up with a crude Italian hand gesture. So, my question to all of Bloggy World is, do we have to cheerfully embrace all aspects of parenthood when we become mothers and fathers?

I think that is possible to be a good parent who still feels frustration at the stress and work that parenthood is. I would never change my decision to have children. Nor my decision to have many children. There are however, about a million things that I would like to change about our family life. So, is that okay? Is it socially acceptable to, "love your job, but, hate the hours?" I think it is.

Some, like my mother, challenge that it isn't okay to express discontent. I think it is fine, healthy, normal even. I am pretty sure that the human race would be in trouble, if the only people who became parents, were those who could love every minute of the 18 years plus that were to follow.

So, in a nutshell you have one of the main reasons I blog. And because that is one of the main reasons I blog...let's talk about my three year old.

Yesterday I had grand plans. A clean house, a surging BAC, and a full night of sleep. Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!! At five o'clock yesterday evening, everything changed. My three year old grew increasingly frustrated that his, "best fwend," LB didn't want to play with him. So, in a fit, he threw a scooter at my 7 year old. The handle bar hit his finger when it crashed to the floor and my 7 year old ran dripping blood all over the floor to the kitchen.

I disinfected, and applied pressure. Then I added an antibiotic cream and a bandage. The rule of thumb here for stitches is...if I can get the bleeding stopped, and then keep it stopped, enough that the band-aid covering the wound is free from blood at the 24 hour mark, we don't go for stitches. This may be a liberal policy for most of you, but, it was suggested to me by my aunt and uncle who are both doctors, therefore it works for me. Of course, I clean wounds frequently and watch carefully for signs of infection.

In 8 days, we had not one, but, two medical emergency type situations perpetuated by my three year old. I am so freaking frightened by this. I am terrified that something will happen to my babies. If that had been my one year old's finger, I'm pretty sure it would have severed it.

My three year old weighs a little over 50 pounds. He was seen carrying my 7 year old through the living room yesterday (like a baby, LB's legs were wrapped around his waist) and the extent of his strength is unreal. *H.M., if you had seen the poker through the LCD screen episode, seriously, the 4th of July was nothing by comparison, and he hurled the poker at least 10 feet with enough force that it went through the television and the tip embedded itself in the wall.*

So, what do you think? Is it okay to be scared and frustrated? Is it fair to say that while I love being a mom, I don't love being *that* mom? Tell me what you think.

He says, she says

My husband is on his way home. I am delighted. I cannot hardly wait until I can leave the kids with him and get the heck out of Dodge. I know that I am well and truly, mentally and physically exhausted, when the idea of being alone trumps that of seeing my husband. And, boy, oh boy, does it ever!

Tomorrow, I am taking our laundry to the coin laundry again. BY MYSELF! I am dizzy with anticipation. It is of course necessary that I go, or else we'll have to show up to Thanksgiving dinner at my grandparents' home naked. The washer is still dead, and the laundry situation is honestly that bad. I don't know when we'll replace it, but, I think that it is important to find out what is wrong with my truck first.

My husband is so excited to come home and be part of the family, I'm so excited that he'll be here so that I can ditch them all for awhile. Such is life, or to be more accurate, such is 'our' life.

Monday night TV, my crutch is gone

Did anyone else watch the last episode of Jon & Kate tonight?

I did. It was sort of strange, because in the dairy farm portion, I was reminded of all the reasons I fell in love with the show in it's early days. Originally, I watched the showing thinking, "if that lady can do it, why can't I?" It was a motivational thing for me. I empathized with the 'crazy' on the show. Kids hitting each other every time Mom or Dad turned their backs, the unreal noise level, the work involved in raising a large family was well portrayed.

As the show evolved, long before the headlines and rag magazines, my interest waned. I mean, it is near impossible for me to sympathize with nannies, ski trips, and Hawaiian vacations. Still, I watched. Not as often, but, I did more often than not.

I was always envious of the relationship that Jon had with his kids. Part of me wanted to make a tape of the pertinent parts and present it to my husband, in a, "see, other Dads know how to give their kids a bath/take them out of the house/dress babies/brush teeth," kind of way. My husband must have been aware of my secret desires, because as much as I liked the show, he has always hated it. "Are you watching that again? Don't get any ideas!" He would often admonish me.

If you all were watching tonight, you might have noticed that has changed. What was up with the extremely immature, IMHO way he handled the older girls before the lemonade stand thing? I mean, I totally live in a glass house on this one, I am NOT the disciplinarian extraordinaire, but, sheesh, my finest moments aren't recorded on film.

When the headlines started I was pulled back into the storyline. I was shocked that in less than a half a year a couple could go from renewing vows to divorce court. I mean, WOW, it was fast! It will be interesting in a truly voyeuristic type of way, to see where the family will go from here.