Oh, PIB, I'm probably not the person you should be living vicariously through... why not pick someone else here who is more normal and with more normal kids?
My loved one (D6, always smiling and happy) is a wonderful gift to me. But there are literally crappy days that litter my calendar!
I have to tell you that she was so pleased that she went... I couldn't exactly yell (what would the clerks do, kick us out of Steinmart?), but I had to tell her that it was not appropriate to go to the bathroom anywhere BUT the toilet. I know she didn't get it, but I have to keep trying.
D9 actually muttered what I was thinking, "How much more humiliating can my life be?"
Fortunately, nobody saw us but God and the lamppost... whew, that was close.
Bets
"There are only 2 ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."
Bets- You know, I have to say I think I'm developing a findness for D9. I think she takes after you. She'll be a great lady when she grow up, I think. Hugs, Myrrh P.S. Normal? What is that? Does anyone know?
One moment of patience may ward off great disaster. One moment of impatience may ruin a whole life.
Betsey, Same here, I've never seen the girls but feel like I know them. D9 sounds so mature and secure in herself. She reminds me of my D5. Its too bad that these situations make them grow so fast isnt it?
Well, D9 had to literally grow up when her sister was born. It makes both me and Mr. Wonderful sad sometimes to know that she's had to step up to the plate to help in areas where most kids don't have to. However, she's a really nice little girl and God must know what the heck he's doing.
I learn from my kids every day, when I decide to see the lessons that await me.
Ocean Update:
Trish was kind enough to answer an e-amil I had written to her, indicating that I was at the end of my rope. I had it waiting for me this morning, which was great timing.
She was astute in pointing out that Mr. W. lacks maturity but does not seem to possess great character defect. I agree with this.
So my promise to sit tight and do nothing is here in black and white for all to see (thank you so much, Trish, and a big e-hug is heading to PA right now).
Yesterday morning, Mr. W. phoned me to plan the D9 dropoff/pickup--she was heading back to work with me after the ortho appt. I told him that maybe it would be a good idea if we waited to talk until the appt because it was snowing. He commented, "Well, don't you want to go to the gym?"
I answered, "Yes, but if the roads are too awful, that would be selfish of me to expect you to go out of your way in bad weather so I could go." He seemed VERY surprised by that statement. Note to me: Was I really that selfish before he left? Or did it hit a nerve with him?
He said that was a good idea. Well, the roads were wet when I called him back, we set up the drop off point and time and I stuck to it. Only the roads were MISERABLE when the time arrived (the wet turned to ice quickly). He told me I should still go and met me there. Off we both went.
Side note: When loading something into the back of his car, I see he has bought folding patio furniture for his apt....
Bob Barker also paid a visit at home last night. I got home and had a little difficulty getting into the garage. So I dumped my stuff off inside, beamed at my family members (who, again, seemed happy about my wonderful attitude--though I think with the road conditions, Mr. W. was thinking I really have mental problems) and told them that I would be outside. I should have realized that nobody was listening...
So I grabbed the snow shovel and proceeded to clear the driveway, sidewalk areas, and porch--we have a 3 car garage, so the driveway is pretty big. I paid special attention to the snow piles around Mr. W.'s car and cleared them off.
After a half hour, he opened the garage door and shouted, "Betsey, WHERE are you?" I answered calmly, "I'm out here shoveling." Pause. "Well, come inside because your hamburger is ready." I said, "Ok, thanks. Let me finish and I'll be in."
It took another 10 minutes to finish. A more sedate Bob walked back in to find the family had pretty much finished dinner, though Mr. W. and D9 were both still sitting at the table. Cheerfully, I ate and chatted. D9 told me about her day and asked me to check her math homework.
Mr. Math Wonderful spoke up and said, "Would you let me check it instead?"
The old me would have been insulted, but the new me smiled and said, "D9, that would be a great idea, because your dad is so much better at math than I am." She looked at me a little incredulously and replied, "Mom, I know you know how to do long division...."
I just smiled and said, "Well, Dad is offering and more than capable, so go get your paper." Off she went.
All this validation, and Mr. Butthead didn't even comment on my shoveling or red freezing ears...
Bob Barker remained with us until he had to leave. I smiled nicely at him and told him to drive safely because the roads were really slick. He waved off with a sort of bizarre expression on his face.
And I was glad he was gone, because being Bob wears me out sometimes.
HOWEVER, I got my Good Housekeeping magazine and saw Dr. Phil on the cover... I conveniently left the article open to the page about marriage, hoping that he will read it this morning. Since I always leave magazines open on the counter when reading them, this is not out of the ordinary for me--and if he reads it, maybe it's a good thing.
Dr. Phil seemed to find the words to say things that I think Mr. W. should hear.
This morning he walked up to the bathroom where I was putting finishing touches on my makeup. D6 was watching Pooh and he commented that there was a late start for elementary schools. I hadn't known because there are no crawlers on The Disney Channel...
He walked out and I heard the garage door open, and out he went to reshovel the snow (a few more inches had fallen by this morning). I walked out to hop in the car and he was standing there, huffing and puffing, with the snow shovel. (Yes, he does seem to be out of shape after he moved out.)
Side note 2: All the stuff he accused me of preventing him from doing is not the case from where I sit. My post before about him not having time to himself is still the case, he has still not made time to exercise and seems to have all the problems that he had when he was living with me. Again, good news: I am not the problem.
I mustered a morning tolerant version of Bob, said thanks for clearing the walkways and said goodbye.
That's about it for me for now. Still fish sober and no more PMSing.
"There are only 2 ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."
Funny, isn't it Betsey, that Dbing is more exhausting than shoveling snow! Looks like Sting is coming around to all of the changes in Meredtih's ocean. Let's hope Mr. W won't be far behind! Go YOU!
On a happier note, I just received this e-mail message from a good friend, who said that he is inspired by me and wanted to share the following message. A lovely sentiment:
Just for this morning, I am going to smile when I see your face and laugh when I feel like crying.
Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say how perfect it is.
Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.
Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.
Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.
Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.
Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up, or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.
Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to fix them.
Just for this afternoon, I will take us to McDonald's and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.
Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born and how much I love you.
Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the tub and not get angry.
Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.
Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours, and miss my favorite TV shows.
Just for this evening when I run my finger through your hair as you pray, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given.
I will think about the mothers and fathers who are searching for their missing children, the mothers and fathers who are visiting their children's graves instead of their bedrooms, and mothers and fathers who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly, and screaming inside that they can't handle it anymore.
And when I kiss you good night I will hold you a little tighter, a little longer. It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask him for nothing, except one more day.
Peace to all today, all day long.
"There are only 2 ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."
I'm glad you've re-grouped and decided to hang in with your sitch - I've been sublty (perhaps too subtly - as seems to be my nature! lol) suggesting that I think that's where you are with it.
It can get exhausting, and I know you know you need to take some time off from it occassionaly - so do it, okay?
Bets - All this validation, and Mr. Butthead didn't even comment on my shoveling or red freezing ears...
Could that be because his receiving love language is quality time, not acts of service? So while you were out there shoveling the snow from his car, he was inside fuming that you wouldn't come in and spend dinner time with him? If so, then he certainly wouldn't be giving you words of affirmation about your great act of service, now would he?
As for the math thing - my kids ALWAYS ask me for help with their math. Whem dad offers, they say no, they want mom. When he insists, they end up asking for me anyway! Poor guy is getting a complex. Not his fault, though - I've had to relearn algebra twice now, with the older two kids, he hasn't done it in ages - becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
A lovely sentiment:
