Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Starbucks Daily: Can I Please Have A Do-Over?

Man, I sure wish I could re-do this morning's commute to work.  I had no idea I could have so much rage.  It didn't start out all that bad but it ended with me sitting here in shame and wishing I was a nice person. 

Yesterday, taking the twins to day care, I had to take a left at Forest and Abrams.  I was waiting for the cars to pass and just as I was about to turn (dang, that one guy just won't get out of my WAY) the car behind me laid on his horn.  I hate the drivers in my neighborhood.  I actually flipped him off, which I never do.

This morning I was waiting on the car in FRONT of me to turn left so I could hopefully go too and not get stuck behind the incredibly long red light at this same intersection.  I noticed that for about, oh, 5 seconds there is actually a green turn signal right before the light turns yellow (is that new?).  The car in front of me didn't see it, of course because they obviously weren't paying attention, and the light turned yellow.  Enraged, I laid on my horn as he turned and I shot out behind him - and realized I was THAT GUY.  You know, the one from yesterday who honked at me because I probably had that same green arrow and didn't see it.  So, I feel bad.  But moments later it's forgotten. 

I get the kids to school and make the painfully slow trek to work.  It's misting today.  People here forget how to drive when it's not sunny, or bright, or hot. 

I get to Starbucks, like I do every morning.  Today the line for the drive-thru is so long it's backed up onto Inwood.  I wait in line like everyone else.  As I get off Inwood and close to the actual que lane, a white Chevy Tahoe pulls up and seemingly wants to cross our long, tight-nit line.  There is a business just to the left and I feel kinda bad for those people who can never seem to get into their parking lot due to Starbucks' success.  So, remembering my honking to the previous me from the morning before, I decide to let her cross over.  Annnnnnd she cut in line.  She actually cut in line.  THE BITCH CUT IN LINE.  I was not the only one honking at her now.  She waved.  Well, that made it all better. 

In my daydream, I got out of the car and knocked on her window to tell her she's just cut in line in front of 8 cars and that it wasn't cool.  That I thought she just wanted THROUGH or I wouldn't have let her in.  Again, I told her it wasn't cool and wiggled my finger at her. 

No, none of that happened.  I just sat there HATING her.  I even rolled down my window (while it was drizzling outside) so she could better see the HATE in my eyes.  She finally pulled up to the order microphone AND SHE FREAKING ORDERED 5 DRINKS AND FOOD.  OHHHH I hated her.  I even thought about ramming her with my car.  Would that drive up my insurance rates?  Probably.  So, no, I won't hit her.  I'll just continue to HATE her in my car.  I can feel my adrenaline pumping and I'm sure I could lift a building. Well, maybe a small one.  I even had that roaring in my ears that some people talk about.  I was so mad.

She finally got all her drinks and food payed for and, after chatting with the Starbucks guy, left.  I heard her say "I'll see you tomorrow".  OHHHH, now I hated her even more if that's even possible.  She's a regular.  She KNOWS better.  She's obviously one of those women who always get what they want and doesn't give a flipping damn about anyone else. 

I drove up to the window fully intending on telling the Starbucks guy what she'd done (like that would make a difference) and, as I handed him my card and opened my mouth to say what for, he told me that she'd paid for my order.  What?  He said that she'd told him what she'd done and that she felt so bad (obviously not bad enough to get out of the line) so she paid for my order.  Damn it.  She'd made herself feel better and successfully made me feel like crap.

I am actually ashamed of myself.  I allowed this woman to control my emotions while I could have been initially upset and then just shrugged it off.  She wasn't making me late to work.  She didn't harm me in any way.  But instead, I was filled with hate and loathing.  I don't want to be that person. 

Can I please have a "Do-Over"?

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Ghost in the House

Paul believes in ghosts.  He even believes they are here in our house.  Every so often he'll hear or see something that he can't explain and he'll tell me about it.  I must be the least other-worldly sensitive person on the planet because I have NEVER witnessed anything that can't be explained.  I've been told it's because I'm stubborn.  This is something that happened today that still has me a bit freaked out.

Sean had a bad day which means we ALL had a bad day.

The boys spent the night with Pop and Didi last night so Paul and I could go out for our 5th wedding anniversary.  Mom said they both woke up at 5:00am so when we got there at 9:00am to pick them up they were back asleep!  This, of course, wasn't part of my plan.  Usually they don't take their nap until after lunch.  I'd planned on taking a shower and wrapping my present for the Baby Shower I was attending today after they went down for their afternoon nap.  Now, that wasn't probably going to happen.  Oh well.  Rarely do things go as I planned.

All the way home from Mom's house Sean cried for his Didi.  When we got home he cried for cookies.  He cried for Milk.  He cried for Christopher's cookies and milk.  He cried when I held him.  He cried when, exhausted, I put him down.  He cried during lunch.  He cried watching a video.  He cried when Paul told me to just go take a shower and I left the room to get ready.  He cried all "bleeping" day.

While I was drying my hair, Paul came in and told me he put Sean down for a nap.  He didn't know what else to do.  Sean must be tired because we'd tried everything else.  I could hear him howling in his room as Paul told me this.  He took the baby monitor and Christopher into the TV room and I turned the hair dryer on because I can't stand to hear my baby cry. 

I finished getting ready and snuck into the kitchen.  I was somewhat shocked that Sean had settled down and was hopefully asleep.  I was about to leave and I needed to let Paul know I was headed out.  I didn't want Christopher to see me in case he got upset that I was leaving, so I did what any of the kids today would do.  I called my husband who was in the very next room.  He told me to be careful and then said something odd.  He said "When you went in to check on Sean was he already asleep?"  I told him that I didn't go into the room to check on him.  There was a silence pause and then he said that a little while ago he glanced at the monitor to check on Sean because he'd quit crying and he saw a long sleeved ADULT hand in front of the monitor's camera and it was making a patting motion.  Like it was patting Sean down to calm him.  The camera is positioned so that if Sean is at the side of the crib closest to it there is a blind spot.  I don't like it, but there isn't a better way to position it without mounting the camera on the ceiling.  I told him that he must have seen Sean's hand and I left for the Shower.  I won't go into the rest of the evening after I got home, but even after this second nap Sean cried nearly non-stop until he and Chris went "Nite Nite" at 7:30pm.

After the kids went to bed, Paul told me he was positive it wasn't Sean's hand in the monitor and was I SURE I didn't go in to check on him?  I told him I never went into the room.  And he was starting to scare me.  If he really did see a hand then someone was in the house.  I made him go check every room and closet we hadn't been in today.  Of course, no one was there.  He believes it was a ghost or perhaps Sean's guardian angel calming him down and getting him to sleep.  I wish there was some kind of backup in the monitor where we could rewind it and check, but there isn't.  I just have Paul's word that what he saw was real.  Of course I didn't see anything.... as usual. 

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The Crazies

As a diabetic, I sometimes have these "lows". What this means is that my blood sugar goes below normal and I become stupid. Normal people rarely leave the comfort zone of 70-120 BG. I've been as low as 33 that I know of. There is a real danger of seizures and comas with these low readings. Actually, anything lower than 60 is a health risk. I say I become stupid because when I'm this low I forget how to do things. Like talk. Instead of saying "I'm not feeling well, would you bring me some juice or fast acting carbohydrates, please", I point and say "uh" and you're left alone to interpret.

This is something that happened about a year ago. I have my husband's word that everything is true, to his best interpretation.

We'd been arguing. This happened more than I would like to admit when the twins were first born. I have a self-destructive side that emerges when I feel threatened. I remember thinking that he was being really mean and that I didn't deserve it. Honestly, I can't tell you what the argument was about anymore. I'm sure it was simply that we were both exhausted all the time and on each other's nerves. So, I "forgot" to eat.

This argument escalated and, at some point in our "discussions", Hubby said that I abruptly stopped talking, went into our bedroom and just got into bed. So, he started doing laundry. He said that he would look at me as he passed through the bedroom and he just assumed my glazed, vacant stare was me staring icicle darts at him. I guess he missed the drooling. After a while, he'd had enough of my silent treatment and he came to talk to me. He said that I just stared at him and wouldn't talk. After a while he started to get mad. Then the crazy started.

He said I shouted at him to leave me alone and I crawled under the covers and started to cry when he touched me. When he wouldn't leave me alone I rolled across the bed (still under the covers) and fell off the far end. When he heard the "thump" he started thinking that maybe this wasn't normal behavior for me. Hmmm. Maybe she's... low? He started asking me if I was alright and did I need something to eat. He said I just shook my head and jumped up and ran into the bathroom. I'm sure I slammed the door. Maybe twice. He came after me (stubborn man). He said when he opened the door I was nowhere to be found... until he saw my feet sticking out from under the hanging clothes in my closet. Shhh. I was hiding.

He went to the kitchen and got me something to drink. He brought it back to my hiding place (damn, he found me). He opened the can and told me to drink it. I apparently tried to play slappy with him. Somehow he got me to drink the can OF SLIMFAST. Ok, we had apple and orange juice in the refrigerator, but a chocolaty weight management drink was his choice. He SAYS I wouldn't drink it because I thought he was trying to poison me, but I think that even in my delirious state I was offended at his beverage offer.

I gagged it down with pushy assistance and he got me out of the closet and back into bed. At some point I actually joined this story. I remember talking to him and then not really knowing why I was in bed. By this time I was lucid enough to test and I was still only in the 60s. I asked him to get me something to eat because I needed to get higher. He brought me cheese. *sigh*

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

"My family tree's losing all it's leaves"

My great Aunt Chris passed away last night.  I have become obsessed with death lately.  I'm having a hard time imagining a life without my parents, aunts, uncles, etc.  Aunt Chris was the twin sister to my Aunt Ernie who is now the only one still living on my grandfather's side.  She was 89.

This song keeps running through my head by Arcade Fire.  One of the band member's mother died and she wrote this song:

In The Backseat

I like the peace
in the backseat,
I don't have to drive,
I don't have to speak,
I can watch the country side,
and I can fall asleep.

My family tree's
losing all its leaves,
crashing towards the driver's seat,
the lightning bolt made enough heat
to melt the street beneath your feet.

Alice died
in the night,
I've been learning to drive.
My whole life,
I've been learning.

I like the peace
in the backseat,
I don't have to drive,
I don't have to speak,
I can watch the country side

Alice died
in the night,
I've been learning to drive.
My whole life,
I've been learn----Oh....

What If?

I often have these "What if" scenarios that go through my head.  These aren't my day-mares, just "what if this happened, what would I do?"

The one that occupies most of my time is the "Dies The Fire" scenario.  "Dies The Fire" is a book by S. M. Stirling where one day everything stops working.  It's not an EMP, so one really knows what's happened, but technology ceases to work in any way.  Oh, and guns are out.  Apparently the laws of physics have changed ever so slightly to where gun powder just sizzles and doesn't explode.  So, no guns.  Everyone is back to riding bicycles and killing each other with swords and bow and arrows.  There are even Zombies.  Ok, not ZOMBIE zombies.  Just people run out of food and, well, some start eating other people.

My particular "what-if" is kind of like this.  Nothing works.  If this really happened I wouldn't live very long being an insulin dependent Type 1 Diabetic.  So I guess I should really ask myself why I even bother thinking about it?  Because my brain doesn't listen to me. 

If something happens where nothing works I'm pretty screwed.  We don't own any bicycles.  We don't own a sword or any bow and arrows.  We don't have access to fresh water.  At least Paul can make a fire from nothing and hunt so we may be able to eat.  I think the first order of business would be to get out of the city since that is where all the zombies will live.  Anarchy will reign supreme and the weak will become stew.  If we could get out to the lake house (on foot?) at least we'd have water and fish... for a while.  We'd have to devise some plan for defense since we will constantly be defending our little plot of land.  We'd have to find others and band together.  Build a wall maybe.  To be a vital part of the new Tribe each of us would need a "Talent" to prove that we were viable and not obsolete.  I have no Talent that doesn't include a computer.  Paul has had a little survival training and the boys are the future guardians and providers, so they would get to remain.  Farmers, cooks, crofters, fighters, metal workers, engineers and women of child bearing age will be desperately needed.  I possess none of these abilities.  I fear that I'd make a tasty addition to the stew pot.

Monday, November 28, 2011

You Worry Too Much

I often hear the phrase "You worry too much".  Aside from stating the obvious, it's not terribly helpful advice.  I worry too much.  Yes, it's true, I worry about everything and it's becoming worse over time.

I worry about small things and large things.  My worries make their way into my dreams at night and my day-mares.  I become paralyzed with indecision which makes me feel impotent.  What could be so bad?  I'm aware that this is ridiculous, but I can't seem to knock myself out of it.

Here are few things I worry about every single day.

I worry that when Paul and the boys leave in the morning that it will be the last time I ever see them.  I worry that every time I get into the car I'm playing Russian roulette, and this time may be my last.  I worry that someone will steal my beautiful boys and that I would rather die than go on living.  I worry that I'm a terrible mother and I'll somehow screw my kids up.  I worry something will happen to my parents and that I won't be around to help them.  I worry about why I haven't heard from friends and family in a while.  I worry that I've done something wrong.  I worry about people thinking I'm an idiot, when all I ever do is try my best.  I worry that my best will never be good enough.  I worry about money.  I worry that I won't be able to provide for my parent's retirement in a way that will keep them out of a careless nursing home.  I worry that we'll never be able to sell this house so my kids can go to a better school.  I worry that if we can't sell this house then we won't be able to move to Rockwall where I can better look after my parents.  I worry about whether there is a God, and then I worry that, by just having made the thought, I'm going to Hell.  I worry about not being around long enough to see my boys grow up.  I worry that I'm going to develop Glaucoma too soon.  I worry that I could get a batch of bad insulin and fall into a coma.  I worry that when I go to bed at night I may never wake up.  I worry that no one would really care.  I worry that by just typing out these thoughts that they could come true.

There are more, but these are the ones that occupy my daily thoughts.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Dinner With Aliens

Daddy bought Chipotle for dinner last night.  The boys usually eat pretty well when cheese, tortillas and black beans are involved.  Last night, however, we must have had some invisible Aliens over for dinner.  Being concerned that their thoughts could be manipulated, the boys quickly emptied the tin foil bowls and placed them on their heads.  There were only 2.  I guess Mom and Dad would need to fend for themselves.

Dreams - Inner Self

I recently had a dream where I realized that there was a room in my house that I'd never noticed before.  It was quite big and I was a little annoyed that I hadn't seen it before.  It really would have been helpful when the boys were younger!  I also realized that every other room in the house opened up to this one.  How had I never seen it before?  It was fully furnished but a little untidy.  But it wasn't filthy. 

This reminded me of another dream I had when I was living in Tyler, Texas.  I was probably about 24 years old at the time.

I was looking for my sister.  Something had happened and she ran in fear to hid.  I was desperately searching for her when I came upon an abandoned house.  It was old but probably beautiful in it's day.  And with a little love it could be again. 

I tried to peek in the windows to see if I could see my sister, but the windows had a film on them and I couldn't see anything.  So I found an opening and crawled inside.

It was FILTHY.  There was no color and the entire house was covered in a dark grey, dirty film.  Every single piece of furniture was broken.  I realized I couldn't see into the house from the windows because they were covered in this strange dust. 

I heard my sister and ran into the room where I thought I heard the sound.  It was difficult moving around because there was so much dirt and broken furniture.  All I remember is that I never did find her and I couldn't find my way back out.  I was forever locked inside that house.

I actually looked up something about what dreams meant and found that the house was supposedly really me.  The exterior was how others perceived me and the interior is how I perceive myself.  This made some sense to me since, at the time, I felt broken and dirty. 

The fact that I'm now dreaming of a nice, big room that isn't insanely destroyed gives me comfort.  Instead of being dirty and broken, I'm just untidy.  And the improvement only took 20 years.  :-)

Monday, November 21, 2011

Dreams - Pink Floyd

I've had quite a few dreams in my lifetime that have never left me.  These are dreams I remember and worry about from time to time.  While I am not psychic in ANY way, I still think about what my subconscious might have been trying to tell me.

Several years ago when I was in my 20s I was having re-occurring nightmares involving catastrophic events caused by me.  I never intended these things to happen, but from some random, small mistake I had caused this diabolical thing to happen.

I call this one Pink Floyd.

I was in a car - a sports car with leather interior and I was sitting on the "hump" or the in-between space in the small, but very roomy backseat.  Sitting in the passenger side was a "dark man".  He was dirty and dressed in rags.  He had a hood over his head and I couldn't see his face.  The driver was a big brown Grizzly bear.  I was holding a straw.  I was watching the landscape go by as we drove down a scenic road.  We were speeding, but I wasn't afraid and the landscape was very beautiful.  We did not pass any cars at all. 

We made a turn and stopped the car.  The Bear and Dark Man turned to me.  I remembered.  We had made a pact.  We were to sacrifice ourselves into the straw and bring forth Pink Floyd.  And in case you were wondering, Pink Floyd is The Beast. 

The Bear started to dematerialize and his essence flowed into the straw.  The Dark Man did the same thing.  The entire car then dematerialized and entered into the straw.   I was left alone, staring into the straw head and I realized that this is wrong.  Why was I here?  I couldn't do this thing.  I wouldn't do this thing.  What the HELL was wrong with me???

As soon as I made the decision not to complete the ritual, screams started to come out of the straw.  The Bear and Dark Man were screaming.  They were being tortured because of me, because I wouldn't finish the ritual and bring forth Pink Floyd.  So, I guess PF was pissed.  Water started shooting out of the straw.  Well, it wasn't really water.  I knew it was really blood.  It just looked like water. 

I started running, but I didn't have anywhere to go.  And the straw started to grow.  Pink Floyd was coming anyways.  He found a way out without my help.  And he was coming for me.

I somehow found a city and I ran downtown.  Everywhere I looked there were children running around.  There were no adults.  The children all had guns and they were shooting at anything and everything.  I stopped one kid as he ran by me and shouted at him to stop shooting his gun.  Floyd was on his way and everyone needed to hide.  The kid just looked at me and said, "These aren't real.  They're filled with water.  See?"  And then he shot himself in the head.

I woke up.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Friday Morning Woes

My sister suggested I blog about this.  I suppose she found my grief amusing :-)

My day started poorly with Christopher waking up at 4:00am.  I put him in bed with us and he fell right back asleep, but I never sleep when he's in bed with us.  So, I've been up since 4.

I had a harder time than normal getting ready this morning.  Chris wanted to be held and, since Daddy was cooking his casserole for his pot luck at work, I got behind getting ready.  It's difficult applying mascara with a toddler attached to your hip.

While getting ready, I sliced my nail to the quick (and it freaking HURTS) on an opened razor in my makeup bag that shouldn't have been there in the first place.  How the hell did it get there???

Dropping the boys off, a car stopped in the driveway to let me pass and he got honked at by an impatient person wanting to back out his parking space - which made me feel bad.

When leaving, I always do a U-y at Walnut Hill and Church. While waiting for the light to change I decided to drink my tea. I didn't have the lid screwed on all the way and dumped nearly the entire thermos on me.  My finger still hurts and I'm now covered in tea.  There were no napkins in the center console of the car, but there were some on the passenger floor.  I put the car in neutral to bend over to pick some up.  The light turned green and I'd forgotten to put the car back into drive, so when I tried to go I just revved.  The mean man behind me laid on his horn and hurt my feelings and made me cry.

The radio started playing the Smashing Pumpkin's "Today is the greatest, the greatest day I've ever known" - so now the Universe and possibly the Multiverse is mocking me.

After getting my Starbucks and calming down, I started to pull away from the window and some douche bag decided to pull out of his parking space at the speed of light and I had to slam on my breaks to keep from hitting him.... spilling the entire contents of my open purse on the floorboard.

Silver lining? I still have my Starbucks, but I have a nearly severed finger, mascara running down my face, wet tea all over me, and I'm cold from spending 10 minutes in the office parking lot trying to locate all the contents of my purse in the floorboard of the passenger seat.  AND it's not even 8:00am yet.

Oh, icing on the cake... I left my phone at home so I can't play Words With Friends all day.  And now I'm crying again.