The Iraqi Effect

This is for The Man who this morning, very matter-o-factly, told me many stories of the extremely high rate of un-happily married and divorced men in Iraq. My ultimate plan is to spend the rest of my life with him taunting me, smacking my ass and trying to boss me around, so a little 10,000 mile distance doesn't bother me. Besides, I've played out the scene 1,000 times where I am holding his hand in the hospital bed WHILE HE IS DYING OF EMPHYSEMA OR LUNG CANCER BECAUSE HE WON'T QUIT SMOKING... and all the romance and mellow drama I long for finally comes spewing forth from his lips, Jason Mraz style. I have to wait around until at least then, right? Otherwise, all my time invested has been wasted and that would just piss me off. Enough so that I would stay out of spite. So really... message to my husband: You couldn't get rid of me if you tried.

A Hard 4th

Bill and I have never spent a 4th of July apart since we met in 2004. Today was hard.

It got me thinking about what matters in my life. And what I would do if my life was to become different. If some how my life no longer included him.

I don't mean to bring you down. Truly. Meh. Maybe you should skip this post. I'll let you know when I bring back the funny. :)

I miss him. I miss life when he was here every day. I miss his smell and his touch and his habits, good and bad. I'm angry with myself for making some less than desirable decisions while he's been away out of weakness. If my life changed and I was forever without him, I would never marry or be in a committed relationship again. I can say that with about 99.9999% certainty. I don't think I could ever look at anyone again and say, "Yep. Bring on the Heaven and The Hell! Let's do this." Why??? For what??? The amount of effort Bill and I have put into our relationship and into understanding each other is too great and to think about all of that all over again... Oy. No. Never again.

I'm so tired of this. I just want him home for good. I want him safe and sound, unharmed, un-scared. I want him back home messing up the kitchen, hogging up the bed and hoarding the remote. I want to kiss him whenever I feel like it. I want to see him speak instead of envisioning him in his tent room as I cling to the only thing I have on a constant basis: The sound of his voice. I don't think any of this has been worth it. At all.

Frustration

SO.VERY.FRUSTRATED.

The one thing that frustrates me more than anything else on the face of the planet is being told that I agreed to something in a conversation that I didn't. Why does this frustrate me so much? I am sure one would assume with a memory like mine this could happen. It's probable. It's feasible. It's probably even HAS happened a time or two. I guess because when I actually do remember the conversation that you're referring to... it's not that I agreed to something and then did the opposite. It's more like you probably told me how you felt about something... and then I choose to not argue and let you say your peace. That is not agreement. That is called listening.

More than likely, when it is a man that is at odds with me over this... what I was actually doing is allowing you to just vent. My feminine ears sensed what they thought was the need for a good "letting out of emotion." I thought about telling you to just "talk it out"... "just let it out"... I'm here for you. But then I was like, "Holy SHIT! He's venting. I spend half my life wondering what the hell he's thinking... and here it is! YAY! Feelings! He's letting me in! I'm in baby... I'm IN!" My heart is swelling. So I'm all wrapped up in your walls coming down... and wondering if I should pat your knee... or get you a bowl of ice cream. I am LISTENING to you. You're sharing your feelings with me. I'm mentally cataloging what your wearing right now so that I might keep this for later. AND NOW I am envisioning us on the beach together, the waves crashing as we're discussing the deepest depths of our souls, and how we feel about our mothers, and our biggest dreams...

I guess I just don't make the connection that you're not venting.

You're being a man. And instead... you're telling me what I need to do, how I need to do it and why it needs to be done. And now that it comes across THAT way... get your own fucking ice cream. And you can pat your own knee.

Editioral Note From My Mommy

Best part of my day, for sure. :)

In case you can't read it, this is what it says: My dearest Beth. This is hilarious. Your memmory and mine differ only slightly.

First of all I need to correct your word for claiming other people's horses. The word is "Dibs" (unless of course an evolution took place between your generation and mine, which could have happened while I wasn't looking out your father's window) This form of competion was entertainment while riding in a car when I was little. As long as it was done in a calm and happy way. And looking out all the vehicle windows was allowed to acomplish a win. Somewhere along the line you children changed the rules. I am not sure who did this terrible thing.

Second, I always knew Richie would be bigger and taller than you girls. Image your disbelief when he finally got big enough to fight back and win. Aren't you glad that your father and I believe that it is wrong for a boy to hit a girl??????

Just some thoughts from Mom.

Childhood Tale of Funny

Today my sister Laura poked me on FaceBook. Not being one to take something like that lightly... I informed her that I would be telling mom on her. And to quit looking out my window.

My other sister, Rachel, I discovered does not know of this "looking out my window" offense of which I speak. It occurs to me that neither do you, most likely. And in the event we are ever riding in a car together, I want you to know full well what you should never do, lest you want me to start a pinching fest when those in the front seats aren't looking.

When Laura, Richie and I were little, our parents had normal sedan style vehicles. Which meant that Laura sat next to the door on one side of the backseat... and I sat next to the door on the other side. Richie use to actually be a lot smaller than Laura and I. I know... right? I don't believe me either... but it is the truth. Anyway... he had to sit in the middle. Which he called the "mush pot" and cried about. A lot. Until my dad told him it wasn't the "mush pot"... no, no, son. "It's the KING'S seat. And you're sister's aren't even allowed to sit in it. That's the spot for my boy! My Son! The KING!" Ummmm... I believe that worked. Once.

So when we would take trips... most of the time the ones that consisted of the parent's swapping responsibility for the weekend... we did what a lot of other children usually do when they are sitting 3 to a backseat, and annoyed the crap out of each other... and my parents. I do want to say for the record that Laura started it. ALL of it. Every time. :) So I retaliated by casually turning my head her way and looking out the window on her side of the backseat at the moon, or a horse we were passing or the car next to us... or anything really. As long as it was there, it became very, very interesting to me. And Laura would become INcensed. "MOM! MOM!!! She is doing it again!! She's LOOKING.OUT.MY.WINDOW.!! Make her stop looking out my window. She has her own window!! She doesn't NEED to look out MY window."

So I think the first time that happened... my mom (or dad... whomever had the privilege of making sense out of THAT horrific sibling torture method)... must have laughed, right? It's kinda of funny. Freaking out about someone looking out a window that happens to be next to your head in a car. However... in our family this was a huge issue for YEARS. Whenever I wanted to irritate Laura or when she wanted to irritate me, we did this to each other to the point where my parents would yell non-sensical things like,

"IF ANYONE LOOKS OUT A WINDOW THAT IS NOT THEIRS... AT ANYTHING... FOR ANY REASON... AGAIN, EVERYONE IS GETTING A SPANKING AND GOING TO BED WHEN WE GET HOME."

"ALRIGHT. THAT's IT! If the moon is out Beth's window tonight, then it's her night for the moon. The END. I cannot change the gravitation pull of the earth to make this fair."

"YOU CANNOT say "dibs" (the imaginary method of claiming ownership of other people's horses for your own) to horses that are out Laura's window. You may ONLY say dibs to horses out your window. If there are no horses on your side, I feel badly for you... but it's your day for out of luck. You may instead want to "dibs" cars you like on the other side of the freeway. They'll get you where you want to go a little faster anyway, and you don't have to shovel their poop."

We literally were not allowed to turn our heads in the backseat for years. And my poor, poor brother. The only window he could look out was the front windshield. It's a wonder he has peripheral vision. He had to stare straight ahead, because if he turned his head a millimeter to either side, Laura and I ganged up on him and it was over. I believe this is probably why he grew to be 6'3" and large. It was out of pure spite. And to insure he will NEVER sit in the mush pot again as long as he lives. :)

My Daddy

"Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad." ~Author Unknown







It is from him that I get my sense of humor and my charisma. It is from him that I am learning responsibility and patience. In all things I seek his approval and am often amazed at his way of knowing this... and gently telling me it's up to me. He loves my sister and brother and I unconditionally and has always been there for us.

One day I hope to be half as great.


“What do I owe my father? Everything.” ~ Henry Van Dyke.

Rachel Is Here!

Rachel Anne Leavell arrived today to stay with us for 35 days! We have big plans for weight loss (where I help her) and house organization (where she helps me). I am very happy. :)

She brought her iTouch with her. It contains a lot of 80's music, per this throwback trend of today's teenagers. I like the excitement on teenage faces when the discover "new" old music. We talked about the Jonas Brothers (and when I say we... I mean she) and first kisses on the way back from the airport. I am very impressed that she has also brought all of her AP homework with her for next year's classes. She gets that from Laura, that academic responsibility thing.

She and Billy are watching "The Land Before Time". I enjoyed very much that she was shocked that I remembered when that movie came out... and that I also vividly remember seeing it in the theatre. Must be my youthful 21(x10) year old appearance...

:)

Patience

Had a hard time sleeping last night... but miraculously Charlie went back to sleep early this morning and I got to sort of sleep in.

I feel REALLY good today.

Bill posted a beautiful Steve Earle song this morning, called "Little Rock n' Roller" that brought tears to my eyes. Being the über emotional one in our relationship, I often mistake his lack of outward emotion for what must be going on inside him internally. Bill has spent a total of 14 (short) periods of time with Charlie in the 16 months he's been alive. This last time he left it was shortly before his first birthday and Charlie was a baby not even walking. Only to come home and find him a talking and walking toddler. We kid ourselves when we discuss his absence by saying that "If there is a part of their growing up that is the best to miss, it's the baby stage. Charlie won't remember it." But Bill, I know, won't ever forget not seeing any milestones and having to "get to know" his second son after this whole this is over. I think about what he is giving up for us and how much I truly love him and for one of the few times in life, words of that magnitude escape me.

I learned something about Billy this morning. He woke up and right away began today's existence defiant and stubborn. He wanted peanut butter and jelly for breakfast... and then after I told him he may NOT eat it anywhere but at the kitchen table... why then, he informs me he was "Just tricking me. He hates peanut butter and jelly." Which is so odd, since I am pretty sure that Billy's molecular makeup at this point consists of water, yogurt and PB&J. Every once in awhile he gets crazy eats something exotic like mac-n-cheese or a pork chop. Anyway, I let it be and told him basically that the sandwich was his for the remainder of the day until it was gone. This brought on the barrage of classic juvenile manipulation tactics, with well loved zingers such as, "I HATE you, Mom." and "You are NOT the best mom ever." As well as the best one for last: "If you don't let me eat in the living room I am gonna RUN AWAY."

I didn't react. I just let him stomp it out. After he was upstairs for about 5 minutes, I went up there as well. The little stinker was laying in my bed, so I climbed into bed with him. Interestingly enough, filled with hate and dreams of life as a 4 year old run away, he snuggled up to me. I asked him to tell me a story. The story was about a princess, a prince, a witch, a queen and a king. Apparently in that particular kingdom, the princess and the prince got married and kissed... and then they had the king and queen. Then the witch came along... and she covered them with slime and made them eat boogers. And gave them all allergies. To his credit, he did tell me originally what the witch did to them was a secret because it was gross. I am EVER so glad I insisted that he share.

After about 10 minutes of snuggle story time... he was fine. Came down, ate his PB&J at the table and has been... uhhh... let's go with "normal Billy" ever since. I must remember that my oldest child is a lot like his mother in that he requires physical touch, as well as verbal affirmation, to feel loved. And patience... lots and lots of patience. For our sakes, it's a good thing we have his father to give us both a lot of patience.

First Post... Oh the pressure.

My first post. What to say...? Hmmmm...

Bill left Friday. It's Sunday. He'll be home in approximately 108 days. I am trying really hard to think about funny, uplifting things and enjoy the children. I think it's working.

Also I am currently trying to selectively inhibit my serotonin reuptake with little yellow pills. I read up on this shit because I can never bring myself to take a drug if I do not know exactly what it will do to my body and brain chemistry. Apparently when you have a thought... your synapses fire and basically make a connection with each other. Taking an SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) causes the serotonin involved in this firing process to NOT burn off (as it does normally at 90% rate), but instead to hang around. Serotonin is the stuff your brain releases that makes you happy and gives you a sense of well being. Sooooooo... here's to hoping with a little more serotonin in my brain I will feel like doing all the things I need to do and get them done. In a good mood, even. I've been on it for 5 days now and I will say that just today I noticed a change in my emotion. No desire to yell at the oldest child for any crazy/annoying/defiant thing he did and I haven't cried once. Which is a huge change from yesterday and the days before. So I got that going for me, so far...

My youngest sister is coming on Wednesday and I am really excited about that. I don't know how long she will be here, but I hope it is for a substantial amount of days. It will be really nice to have so much time to enjoy her, instead of having to work the majority of the time and try and enjoy her when I am tired and I just want to zone out from the day. I have beach trips and long workout walks in mind, as well as staying up late watching movies and giggling.

Another thing I am really excited about regardless of how sad I am about Bill leaving again... is our intended move back to the Central Coast. I can't believe Bill agreed to it!!! I could cry I am so happy to be going home. I have never been very happy about living in the mountains of San Bernardino. Mostly due to the "San Bernardino" part... but a healthy portion now has to do with the snow and the ice and the fog. I left "home" in January of 2004. It was suppose to be for a short period of time while I recovered from my split from Wes. Obviously Bill coming into my life and being all "soulmate-ish" and impregnating me with those darn beautiful boys kinda of screwed up that plan. And he's told me from day one that we'd never move up there because we couldn't afford it. I don't know which part of my whining finally broke the camel's back... but I could not be happier. I cannot wait to show him my home and all of the million reasons I love life up there. Yay!