Archive for December, 2006

Tears and fears

Yesterday, B had planned to go straight from work to his cousin’s house, and spend the night there. His cousin lives right near our storage unit, so it made sense for him to be closeby so he could wake up this morning and easily get there.

Instead, he took a detour on the way to his cousin’s house and decided to “go out to dinner with his sister.” I immediately smelled trouble. “Going out to dinner” meant going to a bar with his sister, her alcoholic husband, and his asshole friend.

B does not do well in these kinds of situations, although he likes to think he does. At 145 pounds, he’s a bit of a lightweight, and especially with beer. For some reason, beer fucks him up. It also gives him incredible hangovers. And yet, he was chugging beer. This is what I call “competetive drinking.” It’s what boys do when they socialize, trying to keep up with each other and look manly. And so of course, B had too much to drink.

Now when B has too much to drink in a “competetive drinking atmosphere”, he turns into a major dick. He gets a whole shitload of liquid courage and turns from the passive nice guy that he is into the world’s biggest asshole. He pokes fun at everyone in sight and keeps prodding and needling until you just want to smack him upside the head. Apparently, one of the guys couldn’t take it anymore, and proceeded to bitch B out. The guy told him that he “was a dick to his friends and a dick to his family.” B flipped out, walked out the bar, throwing his beer glass down on the ground as he exited. And even though his sister had firmly told him that he WOULDN’T be driving, he drove. He drove drunk on New Year’s weekend. And while he drove, he called me. And while he drove and called me, he sobbed like a baby. Now this part is important. I have NEVER, EVER seen or heard B cry. Not even when his grandmother died, not even when our children were born. He claims that he hasn’t cried since he was 12 years old. I was pissed at him, pissed at his sister for not doing more to stop him from driving, and I was shocked at his tears. Over and over he was saying things like “I’m a dick and nobody likes me. You hate me, my family hates me, and I don’t like the person I am. I give up, I’m not doing it anymore, I just give up.” It was really, really distressing. I made him hang up the phone while I frantically called his cousin to explain the situation and to warn him that a very intoxicated B was on his way there.

His cousin is in AA and has been sober for several years. I knew this would make for a very interesting night.

I shook violently and my teeth chattered until I got the call that he had arrived safely and was sobering up. I spoke to him for a few minutes and assured him that he was a good person, that everyone liked him, but yes, he IS a dick when he drinks, and that perhaps it’s time to say goodbye to The Drink. Perhaps for me too.

I’ve never loved him more.


Absolute Insanity

Things are crazy here. Absolutely positively fucking crazy.

In about an hour, I leave to go sign the lease and get the keys (!) to my new place. From that moment forward, the entire world starts going apeshit. The weekend is so jam-packed full of activity that I had to write out a detailed, complicated and intricate itinerary to refer back to every several hours. Otherwise I’d probably just stand around with a very confused/distressed look on my face. It really is a lot harder than you think to rent a truck, load it up from a storage unit, drive it a few hours north, unpack, return the truck, and get your new house in order whilst trying to wrangle in three little boys. Oh, and I forgot to mention–we’re having a New Year’s Eve party. Hah! Ha. Ha. Ha. I hope you’re amused, because my panic attack is already beginning to set in.

On a more exciting depressing note, we have sold our beautiful 36″ inch flat screen television for $250 and the sale of our 1 year old couch and loveseat is pending at a price of $700. It’s a strange thing, watching my posessions fly right out the window. Strange and quite scary but still…freeing. We’ll see how I feel when everything is gone. Except for the Dyson Animal. I didn’t pay $600 for the world’s greatest vacuum cleaner to sell it to someone who won’t love and cherish it the way that I have. There. My love affair with my vacuum is out there in the open. Call me a desperate housewife. Or anal retentive. Even OCD. But now you know.

More updates to follow.

I keep trying to tell you how hot I am!

You scored as Hot. You are Hot, you scream and are wild, people love doing anything sexual with you.

















What is your sexual style?
created with

The Compact

Only a few days left, and we will be hauling box after box and miserably heavy pieces of furniture from storage unit to diesel truck to new home. After which, we will be wading through mountains of posessions and tunneling out a path to the bathroom and kitchen.

In the last few weeks, I have come across a group of individuals now known as “compacters.” During 2006, they made a vow to buy NOTHING new. An article can be found here.

The Compact has several aims (more or less prioritized below):

To go beyond recycling in trying to counteract the negative global environmental and socioeconomic impacts of disposable consumer culture and to support local businesses, farms, etc. — a step that, we hope, inherits the revolutionary impulse of the Mayflower Compact.
To reduce clutter and waste in our homes (as in trash Compact-er).
To simplify our lives (as in Calm-pact)
We’ve agreed to follow two principles (see exceptions etc. on our blog).

#1 Don’t buy new products of any kind (from stores, web sites, etc.)
#2 Borrow, barter, or buy used.

And so, ladies and gentleman, B and I have decided to join in the fun for 2007. Our personal reasons/goals for this decision are as follows:

1. To reduce clutter in our new home and to provide more living space, thus reducing chaos, uncleanliness, and stress.
This will be accomplished by selling or donating any items that we do not use regularly.

2. To save money and pay off debt. Our hope is that any profit made from selling off our posessions will make it possible to become debt free by 2008. Our refusal to buy new should also greatly minimize spending and allow us to continue to survive on one income.

3. To simplify our lives and allow us to focus more attention on our children. We have too many ‘things’ that take us away from quality family time (i.e. this computer!) We also have lost the ability to find pleasure in simplicity, and our hope is to reclaim this for ourselves and our boys.

4. To curb consumerism and commercialism in our children by refusing to hook up cable television, shopping new, and by doing what we can to “live green.” (Recycling, reusing, and by becoming ecologically responsible.)

I’ve been planning a second blog for the sole purpose of documenting our journey. However, my digital camera has bit the dust, and until I can find someone to fix it, or I can find a good used cam, the blogging plans have been put on hold.

Happy New Year everyone–and wish us luck!

Oh, and P.S: B’s also on a mission to quit smoking for yet another New Year’s resolution. Wish HIM even more luck!

There Will Be Time

There is time still
for sitting in cafes
in Paris
sipping wine.
Time still
for going to meet
the guru.
There is time still.
Now I am caring for eternity.
Carrying bodies soft with sleep
to beds of flowered
quilts and pillows.
Answering cries deep out of
nighttime fears.
Buckling shoes.
Opening doors.
My soul now is dwelling in
the house of tomorrow.
Tomorrow there will be time
for long leisurely conversations,
for poems to write,
and dances to perform.
Time still.
So I surrender now
to them and this,
knowing it is they
who will teach me
how to do it all.

Peggy O’Mara

Christmas #1

This morning at 7AM, we had our first Christmas with one half of the fam. Here are my fave gifts:

Piece by a local artist that I have been lusting after for months:

Coffee cup from the local espresso stand. (I am TOTALLY a genuine islander now.)

Bath & Body Works warm vanilla sugar body wash. *Orgasm*

PURPLE monogrammed stationary. (The “R” doesn’t give away my true identity, does it?)

Oh yeah, and here’s a cool picture of my brother:

I’ll be gone for Christmas #2, so I’ll see ya’ll back here on the 26th!!! Happy Holidays!

A Man’s World

Yesterday, Pigpen jumped off the bus and came trudging up the steps to the front door. The first thing he said to me, even before our usual hug, was “I got PUNCHED in the NECK today!” You could tell that he had been keeping this bit of information bottled up inside of him all day long and that it was bubbling it’s way up to the surface, furiously pushing it’s way out. I took him inside and asked, “What? By whom? Why? Did you tell on him? Did you say something to him first? Did you hit him back? Did you get in trouble?” After quite the interrogation, he gave me no information except that he didn’t know why the kid hit him, he didn’t do anything to him first, he didn’t tell on him, didn’t retaliate and didn’t get in trouble. Apparently, nobody saw a thing. I told him we’d sort it all out when Daddy got home.

A few hours later, when B arrived, he took Pigpen into the bedroom and closed the door. I stood outside, listening. He asked the same questions again. He got the same answers. And then Pigpen began to cry. After B had reassured him that everything was going to be okay and that he wasn’t in trouble, I heard him speak the words I have been dreading since I found out that my destiny involved three sons.

“Pigpen, listen to me. This is important. If anyone ever hurts you again, you don’t just stand there and do nothing. You hit back. You make sure that people know that they can’t mess with you, that you won’t put up with that. You need to defend yourself.”

And then Pigpen’s little voice saying “But then I’ll get in trouble!”

“Well you won’t get in trouble with me. And if they punish you at school, I will come to school and talk to the teachers and the principal personally. You don’t worry about that part.”

I’ve known this was a conversation that was going to happen eventually. It’s one of the few things that B and I completely disagree on when it comes to parenting. In my opinion, retaliation with fists is the pussy way out. It doesn’t take any talent to get pissed off and hit someone back. It takes self control and integrity to walk away or find another solution. And yet, B can still vividly remember being 7 years old and being beat on by classmates. He remembers not fighting back, hearing his Dad’s voice inside his head, scaring him into submission. He maintains that his weakness and refusal to stand up for himself set an image in stone, and all through his school years, he was never respected.

We debated it again last night. His new argument is that “most boys will fight and be friends afterwards.” He says that “it’s a man’s world out there and sometimes, this is how problems between men get solved.”

I can see where he’s coming from. I don’t want my kid getting hurt. I certainly don’t want some big bully walking up to my sweet little angel on the playground and punching him in the neck for no reason at all. In fact, all I want to do is march out there during recess and grab that little fuck by the collar and shake the fear of God into him. But somewhere deep inside, I know that teaching my children about non-violent communication and problem solving is what is right. It’s something that will set them up for the challenges and fear and pain and hurdles of life. And so, after B’s lecture I stand there and look my boy’s in the eyes and I say, “But if you ask me, a bully isn’t worth your time and energy. Show him how little his actions mean to you by walking away.” They look at me and roll their eyes. At least I’ve said my piece and can go to bed with a clear conscience.

What do the rest of you think? To retaliate in self defense or not?