Friday, May 18, 2007


Maybe you have noticed some changes going on around here in my ballroom and maybe you haven't but... there have been. Lots. Some of them have lasted a whole 24hrs. or longer and some have only popped up for a few minutes.

Why?'s a lot easier to change border colors and font sizes than it is to move furniture and frankly, my furniture really can't be moved without cutting off significant square footage.

Why do I need to move furniture?

Because. . . . . . . . I . . . am . . . STRESSED!

I am trying to get ready for our back-to-back birthday extravaganza! Did that sound like the guy who announces the monster truck rallies to you, 'cuz it did in my head.

Sunshine's birthday is next Thursday followed by BigBoy's on Friday. Preparing for these happy days is not terribly taxing other than the stress I put on myself to balance likes with needs and wants with the checkbook. (My wants for them that is!)

But . . . Sunshine is also making her First Holy Communion on the Sunday after the BBB extravaganza. Of course, we are inviting family and friends back to the house for cake (which I will not be making because let's face it...three cakes in less than 72 hours is waaaaayyy too much cake even for me. In fact, by the time we speed through the birthdays, race past an anniversary, Father's Day and my birthday in June, pie starts to sound very good to my leonian husband. Anything but cake!)

Oh and did I mention . . . my mother's coming to
drive me crazyhelp. I love her. I really do! She will offer to help in anyway she can... clean the kitchen, slice stinky cheese, play with the kids to keep them out from under foot. She would go weed my flowerbeds and trim my trees if I asked her. It's just...

... I know we are very different when it comes to personality, the way we do things, and other beliefs and different is a word that just isn't in her dictionary. For her:

A. Different means wrong.
B. Different means bad.

To do something different than she does or did means some sort of implied judgment that her way was either A. or B. or C. All of the above. And while she might never come out and admit it, she will quietly sulk and "mull it all over" while the whole time her face is screaming what she's really thinking.
I feel rotten, terrible, incredibly selfish when I admit that sometimes, I'd prefer to just get to enjoy these days. Alone. With the family right here under this roof. It boggles my mind that there are people who choose to undergo an incredible journey to go see family and friends instead of waiting until they are required to attend a wedding/graduation/funeral. It is hard for me to say this because I grew up with my extended family around me and I enjoyed it. I loved visiting family. I delighted in spending weeks with my grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins during the summer months. Shouldn't I want that for my kids? Well, I do. With restrictions.

Divorce changes everything. And it doesn't just happen for that one moment in time. It's the gift that keeps on taking. . . arguments don't go away they just change focus and participants. Wounds don't heal, they just scar over and remind you they are there every time it rains. Feelings never change, they simply ebb and flow like the tide. This child of divorce has enough battle scars and personally, I am tired of the drama.

I choose to be. . . . . different.


  1. I'm so sorry. I hope you can get through this next week without too much unpleasantness.

  2. You will get through it. Offer it up. I love my mother dearly, and wish she lived closer. An hour away would be nice. Any closer and I would probably go crazy. And I'm the product of a functional, loving family. (All things being relative.) She stayed with me for 2 weeks when my 3rd child was born, and I just about killed her.

    I often wonder what sorts of things I'll do to my adult kids to make them bang their heads against the wall.

  3. This is good, particularly the "different=bad" equation. I think a lot of people have this equation running in their heads; the problem is that you can't ignore family the way you can ignore the saleswoman who's *sure* you'll love the lime-green platform shoes, because they're her favorite.

  4. I finally learned just to "not hear" those remarks from my mother. And she has learned that I'm not listening. You just have to do what's good for you and yours and not worry about how it affects your mother (obviously you're not hurting her). They forget that they taught us, "if you can't say something nice..."


Thank you for sharing your thoughts and yourself!