My father has a tumor on his lung. It may have spread, he's been sick for awhile. He's been fading away before my eyes. it's happening too fast.

I never post her, I know, you must be shocked!! I have to post this email exchange, and show you a whole brand of crazy. This involves (to recap briefly) a kindergarten class project that our room mother has totally dropped the ball on. She's a flake, and she and her husband might quite possibly be fucking crazy, you be the judge. (For reference, the project is a sundial with a mosaic pattern in the base.)

Here's the email I got from batshit crazy room mom this morning:

I just heard back from Jen A and we are on track! She is picking up the base from Joel tomorrow and anticipates being finished in time.

As for the Branson gift certificate, I am having trouble reaching my gal down there because she can’t get to work today due to icy weather. If we can’t get this in time it’s no big deal, I’ll just make up a nice certificate and have them contact me to redeem it. That way I can just act as a travel agent for the person who wins and ensure they are all set up and taken care of. I did this last year for a set of tickets and it worked great.

No worries!

Tiffany

(-Alright, as I'm reading this, I am on the phone with Jen A who has a totally different take on it and is pissed. So at this point, the gloves are off. I try to be diplomatic, so here's my reply:)


I just spoke with Jen, and to say that she is not happy is an understatement. She was under the impression (as was I) that she would have all she needed to begin work on the mosaic yesterday. She took a holiday today to get it done, in addition to the days she took off last week because you has assured her the sundial would be in by then - in fact, she was unaware until she talked to me on Saturday that it had been backordered. I understand that Joel had to revamp the base, but this is 1.) all stuff that should have been taken care of earlier, and 2.) you should have contacted Jen as soon as you knew the base would not be completed on time. We are past the eleventh hour here, this is a big job, and ambitious project, and Jen works full time. The lack of communication here is just bad. I understand that you are stretched really thin, but if you didn't have the time to stay on top of it, you should have passed it off to someone else, or contacted the Auction committee to ask for help. I know you have told me that you all are 'last minute' people, and that's fine where it concerns your family and your own projects, but when it concerns other people and a project that hinges on a very concrete time frame, it's not fair to other people to make it so frenzied and stressful. This has got to be handled, period. Jen is still totally unclear as to if the base will be 100% ready tomorrow. And yes, I have a lot of worries. Please let me know if anything on this timeline changes!
Thanks,
C

(alright, that isn't bitchy, right? Firm, commanding, to the point, maybe a little on the harsh side, but the event we need it for is this weekend, and she has had months to get it done. So here is the reply I get from her woman hating abusive husband:)


Obviously, you have absolutely no tact, education, or business sense, and your correspondence is condescending, threatening, and an illogical rant. Therefore, I am demanding that you neither email nor attempt to contact either my wife or myself in person or by electronic means from this moment on for any reason whatsoever. If you do not adhere to this, we will contact appropriate agencies to assist us in this request. Please consider this a one time request.


Uhhhhhh... really? I mean, seriously? I will say that this guy is a grade A tool, but this took me by surprise. As my hubby said "he's the Dick Express, no waiting!"

And also: what agencies? I mean, does he really think I'm going to respond to that kind of intimidation? Here's my reply to him:

Contact whomever you like. Last I checked, I have done nothing threatening or illegal. As I can see it, you're the one resorting to name calling. So... neither of you can take the tiniest bit of criticism? Interesting. Let me know how that works out for you.

Oh, and you may be able to intimidate other women (since you are so obviously a total misogynist) but it doesn't fly with me. Get a life.


Thoughts? I wish I could post a pic of this guy - he;'s rockin' the 70s porn star 'stache, and he just thinks that he's god's gift. He makes me throw up in my mouth a little when I see him.

It has been a long depressing, cold, sucky winter. I actually cried when it snowed (again!) Friday night. I threatened to straight up murder the weather man. They kept saying it was going to be nice this week, but I didn't really buy it. And yet... here we are, a 40-some degree temperature hike in a matter of a few hours. It feels like a tropical heatwave. I have windows open in my house. My feet aren't cold for the first time in 4 months. I feel like I may live. And I want to make sweet, sweet love in a raunchy three-way with Punxsutawney Phil and the weatherman.

The sun is making me giddy.

Website is actually up, finally, so please do go take a look at it. The logo is awesome. It's only one page right now, but more will be added.

www.sweetadelinekc.com

My business website: www.sweetadelinekc.com !

Should be up and running by this weekend, please check it out!

I've known Dan for years. Since I was a little girl. He and my Dad have been backpacking buddies for years, and he was the one that drove me all the way to Winfield, Kansas for my first experience at the big bluegrass festival they have down there.

I remember I met up with some friends that night after we set up camp, and proceeded to get shitfaced on goldschlagger and margaritas (note- very bad choice) I crawled back to our campsite towards dawn and promptly passed out. When I emerged the next morning, there was Dan, sitting on the edge of his truck bed, smiling brightly. "You know what the best cure for a hangover is, don't you?" He cracked open a beer and handed it to me. "Hair of the dog!" I was all of 19 years old, and this was a friend of my dad's. I thought he was terribly cool. Too cool to be hanging with my dad! My Mom called him Peter Pan, because he was always like this ageless hippe with boundless energy. We were all more than a bit surprised when he finally did get married. He settled down out in the country with his wife and bunch of dogs. He has traveled and camped and enjoyed life. He has managed, for about 3 years, to keep the cancer at bay and live a good life.

But now, it's over. He has fought a good fight, a miraculous one, but it's in his liver, that chemo has stopped working, and his wife and family are waiting. I am still astounded that in this day and age, we still have not found a cure. I am at a loss for words.

Anesthesia didn't really work. Was awake abd felt... almost everything. Hurt hurt hurt. Hyperventilated a little. Didn't cry or scream, but wanted to. I am now refering to the guy as Dr Mengele.

Tyler pointed to the aspic on top of the pate I was about to eat and asked "what's that stuff?" I told him it was like organ-meat jello.

He opted out of having any.

I'm getting cataract surgery tomorrow on my left eye. They'll slice it open and suck the lens and cataract out with a little vacuum, then cram an artificial lens in and stitch me up.

I'll take pictures.

The bright side is, I should have 20/20 vision for the first time since I was 5 years old. I've reached leagally blind status, as I am not correctable to 20/20 anymore. I can barely drive at night. The idea of waking up in the morning and being able to actually see is unreal to me.

Added to the long list of phrases I never thought I'd say:

"Get the mermaid off the cat and go the sleep!"

http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/11/08/election.main/index.html



Stem Cell initiative passed in Missouri, too! Woot!

First day with all the kids. Surprisingly serene for there being 6 kids. The middle one wanted to talk about her mom a lot, memories and stuff. How much she misses her. How her Dad cries a lot. It was sad, but i felt good that she's comfortable enough to talk to me about it. 

And I still felt like Buffy was right next door, waiting for them to get home. Maybe she was.

He asked me if my offer still stood, if I was still willing to watch the kids after school this fall. He's worked it out with his employer that he'll be home by 4:30 or 5. He seemed visibly relieved when I said I would, and offered to pay me. As if. 

So. I'll have a total of 6 kids in my house this fall afer school. I'm sure it won't be easy, and I'll have my days of wanting to scream, but in my heart I feel that there is no better thing I can do now for Buffie than to help her husband and love and support her kids.

It's what I'd want, were the roles reversed.

“We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so . . . The door on which we have been knocking all our lives will open at last.”

—C.S. Lewis

She died yesterday at noon. Her husband cried when I put my arm around him. It's easy to say things like 'she's in a better place' or 'she's not suffering', but I know all he's thinking is that  he's lost his partner, the mother of his children. The love of his life. Are there any comforting words? 

Every day we have on this Earth is a blessing.

I can't think of a clever title for this. I can't think of anything eloquent to say. We are waiting for my neighbor to die.

She is just a few years older than me, and has been battling breast cancer for two years. It has metastasized and is in her brain. Once it cancer spreads to your central nervous system, there's not a lot to be done. She has three children, just as I do. But she will not see them grow up. She will not watch them graduate, will not see them get married and have children of their own. She will never see the ocean again. Or the mountains. Or laugh at a good joke. Or cuddle with her husband late at night after the kids are in bed. There are so many things, both the mundane and the profound, that she is going to miss. My heart is aching for these kids. They come over and play with my kids, and we try to keep it all light and normal, but they know. They aren't babies, they are 12, 10, and 8. They have seen their mother on the hospital bed, curled in the fetal position from the pain. They know she is going to die. And tonight, they are going to go try to say goodbye. It could be hours. Maybe days. Her father broke down and wept while I talked to him today. He watched his wife die of this, and now his daughter. He told me that he slept next to her at the hospital the other night, and when he woke up, she was awake and looking at him. She has been nearly catatonic, but she said 'hi dad'. He told her that it was alright if she was done, that he understood if she wanted to stop fighting. He said she didn't say anything. He didn't know if she could.

All day today, and for the past several days, I have had the same prayer going through my head, almost like a record skipping:

Almighty and everliving God, have mercy on us all. Preserve and watch over B____'s family, free her from all pain and suffering, and let her leave this world in peace.

Photos of our vacation to the Isle of Palms....

http://shoobe01.homeunix.net/~shoobe01/family_photos/5266.html

I leave in four days for San Francisco. Only Tyler is going with me. This is the first time I have ever been away from the younger ones. To say I am terrified is an understatement. Let's start with my fear of flying, shall we?

I've never loved it, but I could do it. Until 9/11. I was pregnant with Henry, and I would lie in bed at night and see the planes smashing into the buildings. I would have nightmares of what it must've been like, cradling your child and telling them it would be alright, right up until the moment of impact. I would see fire, hear screaming. Horrible nightmares, for months and months afterwards. So now, not only do I have to contend with my fear of a plane crashing, but also some asshole driving into a building, just to make a point and screw 70 virgins in the afterlife? For the love of god, give me a break.

I know it's irrational. I know. I know. I know. I know people fly every single day, and nothing bad happens. You have to understand, I am leaving 3/4ths of my family behind. Just typing that makes my eyes well up with tears. I can't even face the morbid thoughts I have. My youngest motherless? Addie having no memory of me?

Okay. here I get to the crux of it all, and it isn't all about flying. It is about feeling like a horrible mother. I know women leave their kids all the time, but they're not me. I don't leave them for more than a few hours. I've never been more than a 15 minute drive away. Who am I, if I am away from them? And here it is.

Up til this point, you were probably wondering why the hell I'm going, if I'm this freaked out.
It's beacuse I know I need to. It's because I need to prove I can do it, that the world will not end if I am away from my kids for a few days. And to take a few days to try and recall who I am, besides a mom. It is an identity I cling to, because I have known nothing else for the last 10 years. I don't want to be a martyr mom, and I am dangerously headed that way. That's the sort of mom that raised me, and as much as I love her, I don't want to cling to my adult kids the way she clings to me.

This trip is also for Tyler. I feel that he gets the shaft a lot where my focus and sttention is concerned. I had to work when he was a baby and toddler, and I've always had to share him with King Jackass. He deserves some time with me, and without his siblings.


Oh, and the irony? There's a big fetish ball thing-y in SF. While I'm there. With my kid. So close, and yet so far. Maybe next year, I'll feel adventurous enough to leave all the kids and Bryan and I can go.

That's it. I'm off for a xanex so I can sleep.

Dear Tyler,


I can’t believe you’re ten years old. I can’t believe I’m ten years older! I can remember the night you were born like it was yesterday. I remember Ninny driving me to the hospital early in the morning. I can remember being very nervous and unsure of what to expect, and being concerned that I was totally unprepared for the pain (which turned out to be the case!) I labored all day, and into the night, and the Erins, Ninny, Apaa, and Steven all waited. When you finally came, you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. At that moment, everything I had done wrong in my life, and the things I did right, too – just melted away. My life before you, before being a Mom, ceased to exist and be of any importance. You were, and still are, all that mattered.

I’m so proud of the person you are becoming. You are infinitely smarter than even you realize. Your possibilities in life are as limitless as my love for you. Have the happiest of birthdays, sweetpea, and know that no matter how old you are, you will always be my baby, my firstborn, my absolute pride and joy.

Love,
Mommy

11/21/05



“Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don’t know where I am
I don’t know where I’ve been
But I know where I want to go”

I'm trying to get dinner made early, so we can go to the Village and trick-or-treat at the shops. (The Village is our local outdoor shopping mall, it's less than a mile from our house, very small and quaint, and they host a halloween thing from 4-6). Then we'll come back here, eat, Tyler will head out with his best friend, and Henry and Addie will go out with the neighbor boy. Henry has had on his Spiderman costume all day. At 8am, he was in costume, holding his plastic pumkin, and wanting to know if it was time to trick or treat. Needless to say, it was a very loong day.

Oh, and the time change? My kids didn't get the memo on that one, and we have been woken up at 5am, and actually up and functioning by 6am. Fall back, my ass.

Addie looks like a doll in her Cinderella costume. Those of you interested enough can request Halloween pics via email. I'm far too lazy to post them here.

If you're not reading this: http://www.dooce.com/ then you are seriously missing out.

My lack of posting has nothing to do with lack of material, I have simply not felt like sharing.

Someone that used to be on my friend's list died a few weeks ago, of an overdose. She was a fetish model/adult entertainer. Those skinny, Bettie Page-haired, slightly goth girls that are a dime a dozen out in LA. She was pretty, and a really very good writer. We IM'd a few times, and it was an odd parallel between our lives. She was from Kansas, we were the same age, I had been in the adult entertainment industry for a time. When I got pregnant with addie, she dropped me off her friend's list. I was hurt, but I knew it was her own insecurity over wanting a family and stability. It was far easier for her to only latch on to people like her. Looking beyond the inner sanctum would make her maybe question her life and goals, who knows?

I used to envy her life, along with all the other single young women shaking their naked butts and posing seductively for erotic photographs. I felt my life was the one lacking, that I had nothing interesting to say or contribute. That my day-to-day musings are not as valid as someone who is creative, tortured, selfish, and an utter mess. I would periodically check her journal to see what was up in her life, always quietly lurking, and as time went on, I became less jealous and more sad. Her life was a total trainwreck, and her freinds evidently stood by and let her self-destruct.

I read all the livejournal entries about her death. It made me angry. No one wanted to say how she died. They wanted to gloss over the whole heroin-overdose-on-the-bathroom-floor thing. People didn't want to 'taint her memory'. You know what? It is what it is. She died from a heroin overdose, and that sucks. it was a stupid, selfish, senseless way to die. And yes, it will be her epitaph to those who didn't know her well. She is yet another cautionary tale of the evils of the adult industry. It doesn't mean she was a bad person, or that what she did for a living was bad. But facts are facts. In this stupid, fake, sugary-coated livejournal world, it's so easy to recreate the world we live in, to ever so slightly bend the walls of reality to create something better, or kinder. We make ourselves wittier, or stronger, or nicer, or way hotter, or whatever we think is lacking in our own heads. It's fucked. I'm tired of censoring myself. of trying to present who I am in a more flattering light. It's exhausting.

Here's what I think: of all the many, many 'fetish' or 'bondage slave' girls/women/models I have either observed or had direct contact with on the internet, only one has had actual success in that realm . One shot and killed her owner/husband with a twelve gauge shotgun. One overdosed. One is in a completely fucked up relationship and is desperately trying to cling to her youth. The majority plug away at what hey do, never getting anywhere, terribly unhappy, and usually broke. Only one is in a committed, sane relationship, and another one has a book deal. Two out of how many hundreds? dear cute internet models: the internet is overcrowded. Go home. Love, me.

 

And what of me?

I'm judgmental. I'm a control freak. I worry about what others think of me. I assume people don't like me. I need to lose five pounds. I can dish it out but I can't take it. I love to snark. I spend too much money on baby clothes. I know I'm not considered pretty. I try to be a good wife and mother, but am usually filled with self-doubt. I'm a push-over. I can be too honest. I'm prone to laziness. I love to cook. I don't always want to have sex. Sometimes I really just want silence. I'm never alone anymore. I sometimes don't recognize what i see in the mirror. I feel like time is passing too quickly.

I'm not perfect. Not even close. And none of the rest of you are, either. Dead or alive, we all have or faults.