I've always been one of those people who is involved with music. Not in the fact that I play an instrument or anything, but I mean in relationship with-involved...I hear a song and I'm in it. I don't know how else to say that.
Anyway, lately I've been in a funk. Which is nothing new to me, but it's one of those funks where you just feel ugly and fat and disgusting...and where you go "if I was still single I could look like (insert your friend from growing up that is slutty/ultra hot here)." Which is stupid. I am amazingly blessed, to the depth of my soul I've been loved by the Lord, and here I am wanting to look like this girl I know who is a stripper and goes to the Playboy mansion all the time. What the hell is wrong with me? I don't even LIKE that look! I have always been a white cotton dress in the summer kind of girl...this is so trivial...
Then all this builds this wall up between Andrew and I. He's so attune to my feelings that he picks up on my oddities within a day. So he feels now like he's done something wrong...when in reality he hasn't, it's me, and I don't even have the energy to be what I know he needs me to be-reassuring and lovely. He went to the Blazers game with his friends tonight, which he needs, and before leaving he moped around with me and kept saying that he would stay if I would just ask him..I know-he's amazing..I told him to go spend time with his friends.
So I am now just home alone. Which I can say with conviction I've had enough of the past four weeks not being able to drive and then snowed in to top it off...if I do see people they're Andrew's relatives or friends...I could poke my eyes out. I need out of the house. Tomorrow we might go to Powell's, Andrew got me a gift card for Christmas. I want to get my tattoo colored in finally, and then get another. I want I want I want...I'm so everything my generation was raised to be. Gross.
Andrew did everything in his power to make this Christmas amazing, and it was. For the first time in a very long time, I didn't cry! Which is good, and he held my hand when I called my mom...he got me a sewing machine from a friend of his family's from the 80's, but it works perfectly-I just need to figure out how to use it!...lol. So affectionately, softly, and materialistically God blessed me with Andrew this year-He loves me that much.
Which makes me feel like the ultimate ass for being in this funk.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Frustration
The bane of my existence in all forms seems to be my in-laws. They are nice people, with good intentions, but my gosh if these boys have NO MANNERS! Throughout the years Melissa would always sing the praises of my mother-in-law, along with anyone else who met her, and tag her a saint for doing such a wonderful job with these boys. While I will not begin to dive into the other issues that have arisen due to certain parenting tactics, I can say that the manners are a problem.
You know how most teenagers even in their angst will at least spit out the "right thing" to say? They'll say it through gritted teeth as they get the stare down from their parents, but at least they have received the instruction along the way to know what it is....these boys, have not. They are rude to their parents, selfish, and have an overall disregard for the welfare of others. I will not even say that my husband is exempt in this area, and many times I have to privately request a different choice next time. I am blunt, outspoken, and abrasive. These things are true about me-BUT-if I go to someone's house and they make food for me, I will offer to help with the dishes. Ask if there's anything I can do. Please. Thank you. Your welcome....If I sojourn to a friend or loved one's home, I will spend time with them while there. Not the whole time on their computer, not ignoring them and their guests, but spend time with them. Even if this means just sitting in the room silently and wishing I were in Marseille.
This frustration has only leaked to blog inducing anger because two of Andrew's brothers are here staying with us during the snow. They spent the night last night and will be here tonight. One of them we have over all the time, who also happens to be the most lacking in manners of all the brothers, which of course pisses me off quite frequently...and the other is the youngest so is better than the rest as far as appropriateness is concerned as he was "the baby" and recieved more attention and work than the rest. During lunch the boys began to recount the stories of their childhood to me, one when he was five stabbing another in the leg with a cheese knife because he refused to help cut his cheese. The oldest somehow managing to be left alone in an upstairs room with a window that had bars on it because the child (even though he was the only one) was unable to be controlled, and was then found dangling OUTSIDE the window, seen from the backyard below....boys being left alone in the basement and successfully spilling 10 paint cans all over the floor, etc. etc. Please do not get me wrong-boys will be boys. When you have five especially, stiches will ensue and brotherly comraderie can turn into bumps, bruises, and broken bones along the way. None of this would be an issue IF these boys had grown into respectful men. Presence and hard work is necessary, and quite possibly actually enforcing punishment...the youngest told me that spanking is illegal. That was his comment when I said my "no, actually, these stories are not amusing because you didn't grow into men with manners. They're more frustrating than anything." Response, "well, that's what happens when you raise five boys, it's in our blood," to which I replied "No, actually, if my children behaved that way as children or spoke to me now the way you speak to your mother, I would spank the crap out of them."
"Well spanking is illegal."
"Then they'll hold books, sit in time-out, write sentences." Or any other form or rebuke that is deemed appropriate by the bleeding hearts still ascribing to the (failed) mantra of Dr. Spock.
Because I feel this way, because I believe in structure and none of that "One...two...don't make me say three..." nonsense-my children will be hellions and all other parents I have ever come into contact with will find retribution.
But you can bet your bottom my little hellions will help you do your damn dishes!
You know how most teenagers even in their angst will at least spit out the "right thing" to say? They'll say it through gritted teeth as they get the stare down from their parents, but at least they have received the instruction along the way to know what it is....these boys, have not. They are rude to their parents, selfish, and have an overall disregard for the welfare of others. I will not even say that my husband is exempt in this area, and many times I have to privately request a different choice next time. I am blunt, outspoken, and abrasive. These things are true about me-BUT-if I go to someone's house and they make food for me, I will offer to help with the dishes. Ask if there's anything I can do. Please. Thank you. Your welcome....If I sojourn to a friend or loved one's home, I will spend time with them while there. Not the whole time on their computer, not ignoring them and their guests, but spend time with them. Even if this means just sitting in the room silently and wishing I were in Marseille.
This frustration has only leaked to blog inducing anger because two of Andrew's brothers are here staying with us during the snow. They spent the night last night and will be here tonight. One of them we have over all the time, who also happens to be the most lacking in manners of all the brothers, which of course pisses me off quite frequently...and the other is the youngest so is better than the rest as far as appropriateness is concerned as he was "the baby" and recieved more attention and work than the rest. During lunch the boys began to recount the stories of their childhood to me, one when he was five stabbing another in the leg with a cheese knife because he refused to help cut his cheese. The oldest somehow managing to be left alone in an upstairs room with a window that had bars on it because the child (even though he was the only one) was unable to be controlled, and was then found dangling OUTSIDE the window, seen from the backyard below....boys being left alone in the basement and successfully spilling 10 paint cans all over the floor, etc. etc. Please do not get me wrong-boys will be boys. When you have five especially, stiches will ensue and brotherly comraderie can turn into bumps, bruises, and broken bones along the way. None of this would be an issue IF these boys had grown into respectful men. Presence and hard work is necessary, and quite possibly actually enforcing punishment...the youngest told me that spanking is illegal. That was his comment when I said my "no, actually, these stories are not amusing because you didn't grow into men with manners. They're more frustrating than anything." Response, "well, that's what happens when you raise five boys, it's in our blood," to which I replied "No, actually, if my children behaved that way as children or spoke to me now the way you speak to your mother, I would spank the crap out of them."
"Well spanking is illegal."
"Then they'll hold books, sit in time-out, write sentences." Or any other form or rebuke that is deemed appropriate by the bleeding hearts still ascribing to the (failed) mantra of Dr. Spock.
Because I feel this way, because I believe in structure and none of that "One...two...don't make me say three..." nonsense-my children will be hellions and all other parents I have ever come into contact with will find retribution.
But you can bet your bottom my little hellions will help you do your damn dishes!
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