The adjustment period of moving into my mom's has been relatively easy. in fact, I don't really feel like there's been much of an adjustment at all. After the initial shock of having to move and all the change, I think maybe the fit is just right. I miss the kids but at the same time I don't miss being around 24/7. One of the luxaries of being an aunt is being able to enjoy your nieces and nephews without feeling too much like a parent. The past two years have not been like that. The Monkey and I have been more like second parents than an aunt and uncle. We shared in the responsibility of doling out discipline, helping with school work, and plenty of other parenting duties. It's not that either of us minded, but it really affected the dynamics of our relationship with the kids. I want that to change. I don't want them to look at us so much as second parents anymore. I want to be Auntie Lissa and Uncle Monkey again. And while I don't want them to lose respect for us or think that we won't discipline them if we need to, I want them to think of us more as the ones they come see when they want to be... you know, spoiled.
You'd think with my BIL having gotten his way his attitude would have changed a bit. Yeah, not a chance. This weekend we rented a U-Haul to move our stuff into a different storage unit and get the majority of our things out of Michele's. The Monkey's brother came over and helped and we knocked it out in like three hours. While we were at Michele's, The Monkey and and his brother pretty much had to tackle all the big stuff by themselves. So rather than sit out in the heat, I retreated into the house to talk to my sister and meet my nephew's new (tattooed and pierced!) GF. It was crazy hot on Saturday. Even though we got started early, it was already well into the upper 80s by the time we got to my sister's. So when I went into the house I went into the kitchen cabinet and got a cup and helped myself to some icewater from the fridge. Whoever had ice before me had put it on crushed. I don't care for crushed ice so I switched it to cubes. Still, when I pushed the lever, the fridge spewed out some crushed ice first. Some missed my cup and a few bits landed on the floor. Oops. I picked up the bigger pieces but I wasn't overly concerned about hunting down ice on the linoleum kitchen floor. I mean, really. If I'd spilled Kool-Aid or iced tea or soda or even a large amount of water I would have mopped it up diligently, but a few pieces of crushed ice? Give me a break. I went to the living room and sat down to talk to my sister and my nephew. While my sister was engaged in a conversation with Becca, my nephew's girlfriend, I hear my BIL in the other room make some off-hand remark about "damn ice on the floor" in the kitchen. Oh. My. Freaking. God. Are you serious? Like this doesn't happen a zillion times a day with the kids! Mostly I thought it was funny because I knew he was trying to get to me. But here's the thing. He can pick at me all he wants. He can try to make me grovel at his feet for "all he did for me" until the day he dies. Until he acknowledges that HE benefited from The Monkey and me living there as much as we benefited from living there I have no reason to thank him. I have given thanks where thanks is due and that is to my sister. He is not going to stop me from coming around to see her or the kids. I don't give a damn what he does. I still have a key to the house because my sister told me to keep it. I will not relinquish it until she asks me to and he will not make me feel bad about using it whenever I damn well feel like it. I have a good mind to remind him off all the hell he put her and his children through over the past two years. I can't imagine what it would have been like for them had The Monkey and I not been there. All those nights my sister sat up and cried. The nights the kids came running to the garage during their screaming fights. So, whatever. I told my sister that she and those kids are HALF MINE too and he's just going to have to get used to it. And that's that.
In spite of everything, I really like being here at my mom's. It feels so much more permanent. So much more like home. I spent all day Friday hanging and rearranging and organizing all of my mom's clothes. This may sound like an easy task but the woman has more clothes than you can imagine. Enough that she fills FOUR closets. And this is after downsizing. Um, that's not including dressers. Or other folded clothes. Like t-shirts, tank tops, sweaters, and jeans. What can I say, the woman likes her variety. Aside from the throbbing pain I had in my neck afterwards, I mostly enjoyed myself. When my mom got home from work, she literally started crying. She's so adorable. I really don't think she ever thought it would get finishd. I kept telling her it would! I try to keep myself busy because the house is so quiet and empty during the day and that gets pretty lonely. Well, it's empty except for the five cats and the dog. That's pretty exciting. Which is kind of silly because we had five cats and a dog at Michele's. But our cats were trapped inside a box. Now all of our animals are together. We have four girls and two boys. The Chihuahua, Frankie, is my little side kick. He pretty much follows me around all day long. We're working on getting him fully house trained which is a bit of a pain. Little dog, little brain and all that. Most days he does pretty well; especially when I take him out regularly. I bought him a leash and harness to take him on walks but the little spaz reacted badly to being on a leash. (He basically freaked out and cowered and refused to move.) So there goes that idea. The cats are pretty hilarious. My boy (whose official name is William but answers to Fat Cat, Fat Boy, and Little Kitty) thinks he's a pimp. He's taken to chasing all four girls around the house at random which really pisses them off. Especially my mom's two, Muffin and Cupcake. Olivia is really happy. I honestly think she was starting to get cabin fever. She was starting to act really strange at Michele's. Jasmine has taken up residence in my mom's room. Which has also pissed my mom's cats off because that was their spot. There's something really endearing about waking up at 2:30 in the morning (which I've been sadly doing quite a lot) and finding a different sleeping cat on each of the sofas.
I have three active pills left in my pack of birth control. I'm considering going out on payday to buy a new basal body thermometer and starting up charting again. I need to start my essay for the IVF sponsorship or at least start jotting down my ideas. I'm going to need to schedule bloodwork and my yearly with my RE soon. I'm pretty sure I need a new prescription for my Synthroid. And I suppose we can talk about getting back on the TTC rollercoaster. I'm looking at starting off very slow. I think I just want to chart for now. Maybe see if my cycles are even remotely regular and if I'm ovulating on my own at all. That's probably the logical first step anyhow even though this raging case of baby fever I have wants me to being doing an IUI cycle yesterday. Must focus on more important things. Must focus on The Monkey's health. Must focus on losing some more weight (198 as of today, by the way). Must do what is necessary to better our financial situation (which is looking more and more like my filing bankruptcy). But, in the meantime, it will at least be nice to get out of this incredibly long holding pattern.
So it goes, so it goes.
Showing posts with label drama rama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drama rama. Show all posts
Monday, May 24, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
ch-ch-changes
One can only assume it was a matter of time before we wore out our welcome here, right? I mean we've been staying at my sister's for going on two years and that's a long time to live with someone. It's definitely more than I can expect. More than anyone can expect, I guess.
Things have been going downhill for a while. I'm not sure exactly why. My sister has always been clear that she is fine with us being here. She enjoys our company (and I think a part of her enjoys having a 'buffer' between her and her husband). But her husband feels otherwise and I guess that's fine. The whole mess started out over money. I'm a little irritated that he's taking things out on us that aren't our fault. (Like the fact that the boat he and my dad went in on together is now in default because my dad is in jail. Or that he didn't account for things coming out of his retirement like, oh say health and dental insurance. Or that he didn't listen to me when I tried to tell him how SSD really worked. And now he's getting no where even close to the income he thought he was going to be getting now that he's out of the military. So all of a sudden The Monkey and I should start paying half of the $400 electric bill? And help with other utilities? And prepare meals several times a week? And I should talk about filing bankruptcy since I clearly can barely afford to keep up with my credit card payments.) But all of this would be water under the bridge if it weren't for the conniving way he went about "asking" us to leave. Because he didn't. He picked an argument with my sister and gave her an ultimatum -- tell them to leave or I'm leaving. What kind of husband does that??
So, we've been tossing around the idea with moving in with my mom. We can't afford a place of our own until my disability kicks in and that could be several months from now still. (Have I mentioned lately how incredibly tiring this process is??) We hadn't gone forward with it because we were mostly worried about my sister's feelings. She'd already mentioned that she didn't want us to move out. And it went from that from that to this overnight.
So I guess we'll be spending the next week or two getting things organized and moved into storage. We won't need a lot of the things we have here. Our TV and dressers can go into storage as can most of our furniture. We mostly just need our clothes and essentials. There's a big part of me that's utterly relieved. No more worrying about creepy crawlies and sweating to death in the summer time. The Monkey and I can finally look at getting back on track with eating properly. My cats will finally have room to run around. Olivia has really been acting strange lately. Almost like she has cabin fever (if it's possible for an animal to get such). It's certainly going to be an interesting adjustment, though. Our three cats, my mom's two cats, and her chihuahua. Wow. We're definitely going to need a couple more litter boxes.
With this has come all sorts of new questions. My mom keeps telling me that I should stop my BCPs and we should start TTC again. (FYI - this living situation could be semi-permanent. Once my dad gets sentenced, he's likely to get prison time from anywhere from 10 - 15 years; if not longer. My mom has the room and she's not bad company or hard to get along with.) I've already told her that we are not going to be ready for that right away. (I will admit that it's totally tempting; but we're not in financial shape right now to TTC much less support a child. But it is nice knowing that maybe we can start some sort of "countdown" to trying again. Perhaps a 2011 or 2012 baby is on the horizon?)
In the meantime, I have surrendered my credit cards to The Monkey. I am going to start with my lowest balance card and start hacking away at balances the best I can. It's not going to be easy and it's definitely not going to be quick but it has to be done. With any luck we'll have a couple paid off by the end of the year and we can use our tax return to pay off one or two more.
Change. fdsjkf;sjdk
Things have been going downhill for a while. I'm not sure exactly why. My sister has always been clear that she is fine with us being here. She enjoys our company (and I think a part of her enjoys having a 'buffer' between her and her husband). But her husband feels otherwise and I guess that's fine. The whole mess started out over money. I'm a little irritated that he's taking things out on us that aren't our fault. (Like the fact that the boat he and my dad went in on together is now in default because my dad is in jail. Or that he didn't account for things coming out of his retirement like, oh say health and dental insurance. Or that he didn't listen to me when I tried to tell him how SSD really worked. And now he's getting no where even close to the income he thought he was going to be getting now that he's out of the military. So all of a sudden The Monkey and I should start paying half of the $400 electric bill? And help with other utilities? And prepare meals several times a week? And I should talk about filing bankruptcy since I clearly can barely afford to keep up with my credit card payments.) But all of this would be water under the bridge if it weren't for the conniving way he went about "asking" us to leave. Because he didn't. He picked an argument with my sister and gave her an ultimatum -- tell them to leave or I'm leaving. What kind of husband does that??
So, we've been tossing around the idea with moving in with my mom. We can't afford a place of our own until my disability kicks in and that could be several months from now still. (Have I mentioned lately how incredibly tiring this process is??) We hadn't gone forward with it because we were mostly worried about my sister's feelings. She'd already mentioned that she didn't want us to move out. And it went from that from that to this overnight.
So I guess we'll be spending the next week or two getting things organized and moved into storage. We won't need a lot of the things we have here. Our TV and dressers can go into storage as can most of our furniture. We mostly just need our clothes and essentials. There's a big part of me that's utterly relieved. No more worrying about creepy crawlies and sweating to death in the summer time. The Monkey and I can finally look at getting back on track with eating properly. My cats will finally have room to run around. Olivia has really been acting strange lately. Almost like she has cabin fever (if it's possible for an animal to get such). It's certainly going to be an interesting adjustment, though. Our three cats, my mom's two cats, and her chihuahua. Wow. We're definitely going to need a couple more litter boxes.
With this has come all sorts of new questions. My mom keeps telling me that I should stop my BCPs and we should start TTC again. (FYI - this living situation could be semi-permanent. Once my dad gets sentenced, he's likely to get prison time from anywhere from 10 - 15 years; if not longer. My mom has the room and she's not bad company or hard to get along with.) I've already told her that we are not going to be ready for that right away. (I will admit that it's totally tempting; but we're not in financial shape right now to TTC much less support a child. But it is nice knowing that maybe we can start some sort of "countdown" to trying again. Perhaps a 2011 or 2012 baby is on the horizon?)
In the meantime, I have surrendered my credit cards to The Monkey. I am going to start with my lowest balance card and start hacking away at balances the best I can. It's not going to be easy and it's definitely not going to be quick but it has to be done. With any luck we'll have a couple paid off by the end of the year and we can use our tax return to pay off one or two more.
Change. fdsjkf;sjdk
Monday, March 8, 2010
how do I know?
The truth is, I do not know. There is no way of knowing and knowing what I know now and putting it together with what happened then. And knowing how I felt and then how I forgave and then forgot and then trusted... and now look what's happened. Your trust gets dragged through the nastiest muck you can ever imagine.
All of this makes me wonder if I want to have children. Do I want to bring them into a world where these types of things can happen to them? My sister is a good parent. She is attentive and loving. But she was also trusting and, because of that, her son was hurt. And I'm still having a hard time thinking of him as a MONSTER because, deep down, I know that he's not a bad person. Not all the way through. But things will never be the same. Adn I wonder if I'll be able to protect my children adequately from these horrible psyche-destroying travesties that seem to be all too common in my family.
I cry for the person I love. The person I lost. Maybe he was never that person to begin with. I miss the perons that taught me how to drive and helped me take care of my car. I miss the person that took us, the family, out on big summer camping trips fully equipped with big tents and fire pits. And we'd spend our days swimming in Inks Lake and hiking up cactus laden trails to my favorite part of the entire lake -- Devil's Waterhole.
My therapist insists that it's okay for me to feel this week. She tells me that she can only imagine how hard this must be for me; for our family. Knowing that all of these years we essentially lived with two people. And it's hard to distinguish those two people now because the bad has overshadowed so much of the good.
I still have a lot to process. And maybe this isn't square one all over again; but it is certainly a large step backwards that I never dreamed I would be taking.
One day at a time.
All of this makes me wonder if I want to have children. Do I want to bring them into a world where these types of things can happen to them? My sister is a good parent. She is attentive and loving. But she was also trusting and, because of that, her son was hurt. And I'm still having a hard time thinking of him as a MONSTER because, deep down, I know that he's not a bad person. Not all the way through. But things will never be the same. Adn I wonder if I'll be able to protect my children adequately from these horrible psyche-destroying travesties that seem to be all too common in my family.
I cry for the person I love. The person I lost. Maybe he was never that person to begin with. I miss the perons that taught me how to drive and helped me take care of my car. I miss the person that took us, the family, out on big summer camping trips fully equipped with big tents and fire pits. And we'd spend our days swimming in Inks Lake and hiking up cactus laden trails to my favorite part of the entire lake -- Devil's Waterhole.
My therapist insists that it's okay for me to feel this week. She tells me that she can only imagine how hard this must be for me; for our family. Knowing that all of these years we essentially lived with two people. And it's hard to distinguish those two people now because the bad has overshadowed so much of the good.
I still have a lot to process. And maybe this isn't square one all over again; but it is certainly a large step backwards that I never dreamed I would be taking.
One day at a time.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
[insert long exasperated sigh]
My mood still isn't right. I just can't put my finger on it. I'm not overwhelmingly sad. I feel... flat. I don't feel like doing anything. Whatever.
I went to see my RE yesterday. I called them after my visit to the ER and they said I should be seen. Turns out their conclusion was identical to the ER's conclusion: pelvic inflammatory disease.
Color me stupid. PID is something people (myself included) almost always associate with STDs. And how on planet earth could I have gotten an STD?? I had a dream the night after the ER that The Monkey had cheated on me and given me an STD. And then he blatently told me he was tired of my "bullshit" and we were done. I woke myself up crying. And gave him the cold shoulder for part of the day. Haha.
But the nurse said with my "history" of problems that my endometrium probably grew out of control and I didn't have a proper period to get rid of all the tissue and fluid. And, basically, it got "backed up" and an infection ensued and then lots of horrible pain that I do not wish to experience ever again in my entire life. (I am not ashamed of the fact that if we ever do get pregnant that I will be planning on having an epidural. I really don't give a crap who thinks it's a "bad decision" because it's not their body and it won't be their kid so they can kiss my ass.)
Anyhow. The nurse said that should the pain continue I'd need to make an appointment with my RE directly so she could examine me herself and determine whether or not I'll need another lap in the near future. Or perhaps need to switch birth control pills. Or suppress my ovaries all together for the moment. (Not too keen on that last option.)
Infection is nothing to mess around with when it comes to the girly bits. Especially when my girly bits are already severely malfunctioning. So, despite the $100 copay that I have no means to pay (on top of The Monkey's $100 ER copay) I am glad I went to the ER.
For now, the pain has subsided. I started my new pack of birth control and, so far, have not had any of the twinges and cramps that I had with my last pack. So maybe that's a good sign.
I can't believe it's September already. I'm getting bummed because I don't think we're going to be able to afford Metallica tickets + gas to get to Tampa + a hotel for two nights. My parents are planning a Labor Day barbecue this Sunday. At least I have something to look forward to. I want to make some potato and macaroni salad. Sis is making baked beans. Mom and Dad are going to smoke a couple of Boston Butts and some ribs. And my dad's brother is going to bring fresh corn on the cob for the grill. Speaking of my dad's brother... he's been dating this woman for a while. She has a little boy... it's hard to judge how old he is because he's very small for his age but I think he's four going on five. The kid isn't potty trained yet. They really don't take good care of him. The live in a dilapidated trailer that has plywood floors and garbage everywhere. I don't think she works. My dad's brother is the "maintenance man" for this trailer park they live in (which is a deplorable area) and I'm not sure what he gets for it other than free rent for this barely liveable trailer. My dad tells me yesterday that she is pregnant. Not sure how far along but apparently she was already pregnant at our 4th of July barbecue. Not that you'd ever know because she was chain smoking her little cigars and drinking. So as if that's not bad enough, my mom tells me that the baby tested positive for trisomy 21. I can't believe this. They don't take care of the little boy she already has and now they are going to bring a special needs baby into this world into those living conditions?!?
I will never EVER as long as I live understand why people like them can procreate so easily and so many deserving couples can't conceive. It's not right.
So I'm going to try to put blinders on for the barbecue on Sunday. I'm really not keen on seeing a pregnant woman chain smoking cigarettes and gulping down booze. If you're selfish enough to get pregnant when you don't want to, at least have the decency to take care of yourself for fscks sake.
Whatever.
Now I need to go try and get motivated to shower and get dressed. I have to go see my pdoc to get a refill on my Lamictal. I think it's high time that I looked for another pdoc and a real therapist.
I went to see my RE yesterday. I called them after my visit to the ER and they said I should be seen. Turns out their conclusion was identical to the ER's conclusion: pelvic inflammatory disease.
Color me stupid. PID is something people (myself included) almost always associate with STDs. And how on planet earth could I have gotten an STD?? I had a dream the night after the ER that The Monkey had cheated on me and given me an STD. And then he blatently told me he was tired of my "bullshit" and we were done. I woke myself up crying. And gave him the cold shoulder for part of the day. Haha.
But the nurse said with my "history" of problems that my endometrium probably grew out of control and I didn't have a proper period to get rid of all the tissue and fluid. And, basically, it got "backed up" and an infection ensued and then lots of horrible pain that I do not wish to experience ever again in my entire life. (I am not ashamed of the fact that if we ever do get pregnant that I will be planning on having an epidural. I really don't give a crap who thinks it's a "bad decision" because it's not their body and it won't be their kid so they can kiss my ass.)
Anyhow. The nurse said that should the pain continue I'd need to make an appointment with my RE directly so she could examine me herself and determine whether or not I'll need another lap in the near future. Or perhaps need to switch birth control pills. Or suppress my ovaries all together for the moment. (Not too keen on that last option.)
Infection is nothing to mess around with when it comes to the girly bits. Especially when my girly bits are already severely malfunctioning. So, despite the $100 copay that I have no means to pay (on top of The Monkey's $100 ER copay) I am glad I went to the ER.
For now, the pain has subsided. I started my new pack of birth control and, so far, have not had any of the twinges and cramps that I had with my last pack. So maybe that's a good sign.
I can't believe it's September already. I'm getting bummed because I don't think we're going to be able to afford Metallica tickets + gas to get to Tampa + a hotel for two nights. My parents are planning a Labor Day barbecue this Sunday. At least I have something to look forward to. I want to make some potato and macaroni salad. Sis is making baked beans. Mom and Dad are going to smoke a couple of Boston Butts and some ribs. And my dad's brother is going to bring fresh corn on the cob for the grill. Speaking of my dad's brother... he's been dating this woman for a while. She has a little boy... it's hard to judge how old he is because he's very small for his age but I think he's four going on five. The kid isn't potty trained yet. They really don't take good care of him. The live in a dilapidated trailer that has plywood floors and garbage everywhere. I don't think she works. My dad's brother is the "maintenance man" for this trailer park they live in (which is a deplorable area) and I'm not sure what he gets for it other than free rent for this barely liveable trailer. My dad tells me yesterday that she is pregnant. Not sure how far along but apparently she was already pregnant at our 4th of July barbecue. Not that you'd ever know because she was chain smoking her little cigars and drinking. So as if that's not bad enough, my mom tells me that the baby tested positive for trisomy 21. I can't believe this. They don't take care of the little boy she already has and now they are going to bring a special needs baby into this world into those living conditions?!?
I will never EVER as long as I live understand why people like them can procreate so easily and so many deserving couples can't conceive. It's not right.
So I'm going to try to put blinders on for the barbecue on Sunday. I'm really not keen on seeing a pregnant woman chain smoking cigarettes and gulping down booze. If you're selfish enough to get pregnant when you don't want to, at least have the decency to take care of yourself for fscks sake.
Whatever.
Now I need to go try and get motivated to shower and get dressed. I have to go see my pdoc to get a refill on my Lamictal. I think it's high time that I looked for another pdoc and a real therapist.
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