But what else is new. I’m mean, remember?

Yesterday was Ashley’s last soccer game of the Spring season. When I got there, I saw that she was playing goalie and thought, oh, this won’t be pretty.

But she actually didn’t do too badly. She payed attention to where the ball was and kept moving to cover the goal. She even stopped a couple of balls and threw them back out easily. I relaxed a little.

At the half, she told the coach she wanted to stay in as goalie. I wasn’t worried. I thought she would be ok.

Yeah, I was wrong about that.

On a corner kick, her teammates surrounding her to help protect the goal, the ball got kicked up, and…

POW!

She took it in the face.

Um, Ashley? Did you forget the goalie can use her hands? This would have been a good time to take advantage of that little tidbit.

And of course the world came to an end. My little drama queen.

We looked her over, but she was ok. No blood. No marks. Her glasses weren’t broken or even really bent. She wanted to sit out, but I knew that wasn’t a good idea. She wasn’t hurt badly (more shocked than anything) and needed to get back on the horse. Her coach and I decided to have her still play, but move to defense instead. She wasn’t too happy about it.

But she got back out there. Defended the goal. Attacked the ball. I was so proud.

(and the girl that kicked the ball apologized which was WAY cool)

Not five minutes later she came up to challenge another player, and…

WHAM!

She took ANOTHER ball to OTHER SIDE of her face.

Oh. My. Hell.

I mean, what are the odds of that? One of her teammates even asked, “Why is SHE the one who always gets hurt?” Um, I dunno. Luck?

And the world just turned apocalyptic. It was 2012 in her mind. If the ground opened up and swallowed her whole right then she wouldn’t have been surprised.

She still wasn’t really hurt, though. And she HAD to get back there again. Especially after that. I told her to shake it off (even though I ALWAYS hated hearing my father say it to me when I played softball, he was totally right) and get back out there.

I saw her sniffling up and down the field. She wouldn’t run any faster than a jog. When she had to challenge a player, she showed fear. Which was exactly why she had to get back out there. I knew that, but she wasn’t gonna listen right then.

She. Was. Pissed.

When the game was over, if looks could kill, I would have been dead.

By then, she wasn’t even hurting at all anymore. But this kid sure knew how to be dramatic. OMG. Wait. She’s supposed to be a tomboy!

How is that even possible? She had it easy! She didn’t have my father as a coach like I did. I was a fucking fairy godmother compared to him!

Anyway…she’s fine now. And according to her father, she’s not even mad at me anymore.

I’m clearly doing something wrong. LOL

**********

Here are a couple of pics from before the world ended:

Semester is over. I can relax!

The Bahamas are calling me back.

Congrats on my step-sister getting married!

Wow! I seem to be full of them today! Must mean I’m feeling better.


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You know how it is. You go through a major life change (or multiple changes cuz the Universe has a snarky sense of humor that way) and you ask yourself, “What is REALLY important to me right now?” So you take time to look at your priorities. And often you find that they need some rearranging.

But, of course, that would be after…

…you spend a day (or twenty) staring out the window wondering, “What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

…you spend the next day getting totally drunk cuz you don’t have an answer to that question, and getting drunk sounded like a better thing to do that day. And the next day. And the day after that.

…you consider selling your soul to the devil for that perfect life you always wanted. Which is never perfect anyway, cuz there’s no such thing, and then you’ve lost your soul, so you chuck that idea in the trash.

…you slap yourself HARD, pick yourself up by your bootstraps, put on them big girl panties, and realize you need to take each day as it comes, focusing on ALL the positive things you have in your life. And there are A LOT.

**********

So. Have you guessed yet that I’m looking at my priorities? I sure am. And I’m making changes.

Some things have definitely moved down the list. Things like pedicures and waxings (but I might need to reconsider that last one cuz the hairs on me that aren’t light blond and practically invisible just plain BUG ME), eating out (don’t get me wrong, it still happens, it just happens a lot less now), and wondering so much about the end of the hostage crisis. It will end when it’s supposed to, right?

Here are some of the items that are still a high priority for me:

• My nails. Yeah, I moved pedicures down, but I can’t give up my acrylic nails. I just can’t. Bcuz if I stop getting my nails done, I will have no nails. NONE. Where will they go? In mah belleh, that’s where. And… um… can we just forget I said anything about that? kthanx
• Working hard in school. I have always regretted not going to college when I was younger. My second semester (part-time so don’t go gettin your hopes up just yet) is nearly finished and I am ecstatic with my progress. I think I’ll keep it up.
• Friends. ALL of them. The local ones, long-distance ones, and even the online ones. You have seen me at my worst AND my best and love me anyway. And I love you right back. xoxoxoxoxo

And then there is what will always remain top priority…

This week it’s a shallow Six Word Saturday for me. With a picture no less!

Got nails done. Aren’t they purty?

Ok, so here’s one that might redeem my shallowness. Possibly. But I won’t hold my breath.

Excited for daughter starting soccer today.

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I know y’all wanna join in the fun with us, so click here to get more info on Six Word Saturdays.

I am in my last week of work. Four more days until I am officially laid off. Is it bad to say that I already wish it was over?

I received my separation packet last Friday. I was totally fine while the HR rep went over the agreement. That was until he thanked me for my professionalism regarding the lay off. Which made me start thinking, “Well HELL how am I supposed to act it’s not like I didn’t know this was coming for a YEAR NOW and can we just get this over with, cuz I don’t wanna have to think about this right now I have to go deal with my daughter’s first weekend visitation with her father and I HAVE to be home right now and OMG I’m gonna be without a job and divorced and what the FUCK am I gonna do I’ll be an outta work divorcee student with a daughter at home who will be hitting puberty soon enough and I’M TOTALLY FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW BUT I REFUSE TO LET YOU SEE ME CRY MOTHERFUCKER!”

Yeah, he really doesn’t have a clue how close he came to being stabbed right then. Prolly for the best.

**********

It’s been a week since I made the husband move out. How am I doing? Well, I’m handling it. That’s all I can do right now. Take each day as it comes, knowing that some days will be better than others. School will keep me busy, especially starting next week when I won’t be going to work anymore. And I have a long to do list that I plan to make a huge dent in. Finally.

I’m staying strong for my daughter. Even though she is dealing with it fairly well so far, I know this is hard for her. She was understandably upset when her father moved out. And she was sad after her first visitation with him bcuz she felt she didn’t get to spend enough time with him. I completely understand that. I tell her that it’s okay for her to feel sad, angry, etc. about the situation. I tell her that none of this is her fault and that her father and I love her VERY MUCH. I tell her that I’m here for her to talk to about anything. Anytime.

I am amazed with the changes in me I have already seen. The past two years I was hiding more and more at home. Hiding from the tension. Hiding from being hurt. Hiding from him. And I was losing myself in the process. I feel I am coming back now, though, and it feels really good. I know I will stumble occasionally, but I am definitely moving forward. Forward is good.

**********

Friday was the Elton John/Billy Joel concert at the Energy Solutions Arena (which I don’t care what you say, it will ALWAYS be the Delta Center to me). The concert was originally scheduled in November, but had to be postponed bcuz of illness (Damn old men, WTH? Never mind we partied it up big time anyway WITHOUT YOU. So there!).

The show? Well, it was AWESOME!!!!!

We started out in nosebleed seats. They were totally fine cuz the sound was great and they had a screen set up above them so you could see a little better on that when they showed them. But then, Sarah’s dad got us down on the floor. YAY SARAH’S DAD! Y’all are jealous now. I know. Billy played one of my favs of his songs, Allentown, and the two of them played one of my fav Elton songs, The Bitch is Back (which means more than they will ever know right now ). Michelle and I sang pretty much all the songs (loudly of course) and it was a blast. And I will never forget Billy Joel talking about how he always wanted to “mess up” Marie Osmond when he once used the Osmond studio for rehearsals. And if you’re thinking oh no he di’int? Oh yes he did. LOL

I haven’t gone through all the pictures yet, but here’s one of Billy and Elton together on the screen.

Did I mention that the concert was just plain AWESOME? Yeah, well, it’s worth repeating. Trust me.

**********

So. I’ve been hit with a lot of spam comments on my blog for almost a week now. I know I’ll never come close to dooce or The Bloggess, but does this mean I’m getting closer to being in the big leagues?

No? Oh, ok. I’ll keep working on it then. j/k

WARNING: This post is a HUGE rant that covers a couple of decade’s worth of shit and even then I’m barely touching on SO many things. I TOTALLY understand if you want to run screaming from it. I want to run screaming from it, and it’s my life! If you do dare to actually read it, well then, consider yourself forewarned.

*****

I have an ex-husband. I admit it.

It’s not that I hide my first marriage. Not in the least. My first marriage played a very big part in shaping the person I am today. I just usually refer to it indirectly (second marriage, second husband, etc.). If you have checked out my sidebar, you might have noticed that I acknowledge my ex-husband briefly. Very. Briefly. And then I go on to say that I don’t like to talk about him. EVER.

I hate my ex-husband. Hate him. Yes, I did just use the H word. And yes, I do know how harsh that sounds.

I met my ex when I was a senior in high school. My first job was at the local roller skating rink (remember those?) and my ex worked there too. We met and got along well enough and started dating about a month after I started working at the rink.

Our relationship…..overall…..was volatile. I can’t think of a better word to describe it. We fought A LOT. I wouldn’t say it was abusive. But it sure as hell wasn’t healthy. It took me years to figure out that I jumped from the frying pan into the fire. I used him as my excuse to get away from my family, which was dysfunctional with a capital D.

I fooled myself into thinking that I loved my ex and stayed in the relationship because the alternative to me was so much worse. It was either him or my family. And it was imperative that I stay away from my family. They were quicksand to me (but that’s a post for another day). So I stayed. Even though he treated me badly. Even through the drugs. Even through the lies.

And then we broke up for a while. Sure, I know NOW that the break up was the best thing. But then? Breaking up with my ex forced me back to my family, which by this time was totally falling apart. I didn’t want to be around that. I still felt I had to get away from them. So when my ex apologized, I took him back.

I was pregnant with my son soon after and we were married a few months later.

After my son was born (at least I think it was after), my ex started having unexplained seizures that left him on disability and without a driver’s license. We had to move in with his parents, which just added more stress and things were already bad between us. By the time he went back to work and we moved out, the relationship was in shambles. The lies started again. When I confronted him with the huge lie he had told all along about his health issues, I said it was over. I took my son and left.

I struggled on my own. And I made mistakes. HUGE mistakes. Mistakes that I still kick myself for. One of those mistakes gave my ex the foothold he needed to separate my son from me. After that, he filed for divorce. Before the divorce was final, I felt like I hadn’t given the marriage 100% effort. I know now that it really was about still staying away from my family. I just didn’t have enough faith in myself.

The lies continued. My ex said that he had a vasectomy. Can you guess what happened next? You got it. I wound up pregnant. Luckily, that pregnancy did not go to term. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would have been like if we had another child together. I don’t want to.

Sadly, I stayed with him for quite a few more months. The divorce was final, but we were still dating. At some point, I FINALLY got a clue! I realized that I had given the marriage every effort, and that I deserved so much better. I told my ex that it was over.

To say he took it badly was an understatement. And he had the upper hand. He had my son. My ex knew that I wanted nothing to do with him, but he knew I wanted my son. And he used it against me every chance he got. When I moved out of state a few years later, I tried to work with my ex on a reasonable visitation, but he would have none of it. The day I left CA was the worst day ever. I didn’t see my son after that for 7 years.

My ex wasn’t planning to make it easy for me to stay in touch. He changed his phone number and refused to let me have it to try to keep me from contacting my son. He even took my son out of town on a weekend I drove back to CA. Yes, my ex knew I was coming. I made plans with him a month in advance. He was just being vindictive. I also knew he was bad mouthing me to my son (which was confirmed in a conversation my son and I had a couple of year s ago). He even told my son that if I attended his high school graduation, he wouldn’t be there. I showed up anyway (TAKE THAT MOTHERFUCKER!).

Thankfully, my son’s (paternal) grandmother made sure I was in his life. She is the primary reason I have such a good relationship with my son today. I will never forget her for that.

*****

I told you all of that because of the phone call I received from my son today. It started off as any other normal conversation. He wanted to get a phone number from me. The more he talked, though, the more I knew something was off. So I asked what happened. He said his father kicked him out last night.

And I wanted to kill my ex. Right fucking then and there.

My son was out here in Utah for a visit just a week ago. We talked about how things were at home. I was concerned at how my son described his father’s recent actions. They didn’t make sense to me. I wondered if his actions had anything to do with my son coming out to visit me. I kept it to myself, though, for my son’s sake. I only said here and there that I didn’t agree with certain things and that I didn’t understand why his father was being that way.

When my son went back home it seemed like things were going to be okay. He told his father he was going to move up to Sacramento because the city college there had space available in his degree (the junior college in Stockton where he currently lives is full). I supported his decision and it sounded like his father did too.

I don’t know what changed. And neither does my son. An argument yesterday culminated in my ex telling my son to get out and leave his keys. He also told my son that he is not allowed to call the house or his father’s cell phone. My son is not allowed to go to the house to get his things. Until this Thursday. For 3 hours. Seriously?!?!

I am at a loss. I don’t understand this at all. My son doesn’t do drugs. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He goes to his classes. He EXCELS in his classes. He is responsible. I DO NOT understand what could have happened that would justify this kind of reaction from my ex.

And it makes me wonder if it has to do with me. Is this my ex’s final vengeful act? He can’t use custody against me anymore, since my son is an adult. So is this his one last ditch effort to try to hurt me? I don’t know.

What does hurt me is that I’m not close enough to help my son. I want so badly to be there for him. But I can’t. And it kills me right now. I’ve been crying on and off since I got his call today. I know my son is strong and he will get through this, but I feel like he needs me. And dammit I’M HIS MOTHER! I should be there, right?

Good job, sperm donor. You get an A+ for acting like an ass and driving your son away. I hope you’re proud of yourself. Because in the end, YOU’RE the one who has truly lost.

What can I say? I makez pretty peoplez!

I guess it’s time to accept the fact that summer (and apparently fall too for that matter) is over. The weather people say that we’re getting snow tomorrow and Wednesday, so I guess I have to accept it (even though I don’t trust the weather people as far as I can throw them). I sure as hell don’t plan on giving up without a fight, though!

These pictures from our day at Lagoon-A-Beach have been sitting in a blank post for a while now (cuz my brain has been on freakin overload lately). They’re the perfect way to stick my tongue out at winter’s attempts to cut in line this year, don’t you think?

P.S. Ash may have a little pink on her thigh, but I’m the one who ended up fried to a crisp that day. Ah, memories!

Update – Winter’s tendrils have apparently have started to creep into my brain, cuz I completely forgot a title to this post. I channeled South Park and think I came up with a good one. Winter totally needs to heed that warning.

I missed the birthdays for my sister’s kids this year. All. Of. Them. The fact that I can’t even remember if I did anything last year for their birthdays is irrelevant. Most of last year I was in a drunken haze. So this year, I set up reminders on Birthday Alarm to help me with my alcohol-induced amnesia. Yeah, well…I think I need to upgrade to the package where they send you a messenger that repeatedly pokes you with a special event cattle prod until you actually DO something to acknowledge the event. To them, not you. It’s all about THEM, remember?

I’m the fucking world’s worst aunt.

So here I am, almost a week AFTER the last of their birthdays, and I am just now getting their cards done. I started with my neice’s card. I figure that at 12, she is much more likely to get my humor than the other two (but I toned it down even for her – no need to traumatize her any more than is standard for the near teenage years). So here is how I try to somehow redeem myself:

Yep I know *exactly* how late I am with this. I do. Many days lately, I am a slacker. Auntie Stacey is a slacker! LOL Even though I am a slacker, I promise you I was thinking of you on your birthday. Were your ears burnin’? I telepathically sent you lots of love, so if you all of a sudden felt warmth and surrounded by a big invisible hug, that was me. We hope you had a great birthday! You’ve grown so fast and I can’t forget holding you when you were a baby. Ok I’ll stop embarrassing you now! Just know we love you! Happy Belated Birthday!

I hope she likes it and forgives me for being such a slacker. Maybe next year will be better. Depends on how much I drink, I guess.