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Friday, December 30, 2011

Dirty Thirty...or Something?

So, the hubs has had like two weeks off for the holly daze. And I am off of school till' February. It amazes me to think our first Christmas together was in 1995, and this was our 16th Christmas together. 

You would think that all these years would have worn down the whole sexy factor in a marriage. But lately...well, I've really noticed that my husband is HOT. I mean, like I catch myself mooning over him. Like, his mom gave him new jeans for Christmas and I keep hoping he'll walk to the kitchen or something so I can check out his butt. He smells really good. He's so warm and toasty. I could just...kiss his face off. 

There was once a time in our marriage, when kids needed diaper changing and somebody always needed a nose wiped and I hadn't had more than an 8 minute shower in....well probably months....and he would you know, get a little randy, and I would run for the hills.

I distinctly recall many a time when I would hiss "Oh God honey, really? Right now?"  You see, he would always go in for the kill just as my head hit the pillow and my mind rolled out a list of to-do's for the next day. It always seemed he was hoping for some loving, just as I was hoping to God and the Sand Man and all that was holy that the kids would sleep through the night. Romance for me in those days seemed like the stuff of dreams and All My Children. I'm sure Erica Kane never turned down sex because she was worried about the fact that she hadn't seen a fresh razer and a free half-an-hour in two to three months.

People joke that women in their thirties hit a peak. In my case, I've certainly hit something. Maybe it's a peak, or
  • Maybe the kids are old enough to stay home by themselves so we don't have to worry about having enough money to order an appetizer for dinner because the sitter costs more than our whole night out together.
  • Maybe I'm not sitting at the "date night" table praying my son doesn't call the babysitter "fatty" again
  • MAYBE I'm free to just be me again, just a little bit, because the kids are older now  you know? Like, maybe though I'm still mom, I'm a lot less of a "mommy." So...I'm free to look across the table (without entering the mommy worry zone) and think, "my God my hubs is a hottie. Look at that stubble on his cheeks, so sexy...you know what I'd like to do with that stubbly cheek???"
  • Maybe MY peak has to do with the fact that I've done good work, I've paid my dues. And by gum I've earned my Afternoon Delight.

Marriage is a challenge because having two people on the same page for any length of time is pretty much impossible. I mean, now that I want to be a little crazy in the mini-van or sneak off in the woods, the hubs is happy with a foot rub a movie and a snuggle. In other words, HE has become the challenging one and I'm the challenged! I'm chasing him around, winking and he's throwing the coy little smiles. My how times have changed. 

A few years ago, our marriage was on the rocks. Heck, we were on the rocks as individuals. Ultimately, that's what threw our relationship into a tailspin. He was unsatisfied with his life at almost 40 years old, and I was intellectually rotting away. But instead of taking stock of what we wanted out of life on a personal level, we let eachother take the blame for why we weren't happy. We both made a lot of mistakes because we chose to blame game, rather than take responsibility for our own unhappiness. Somehow I held on to the idea that "the better CAN come after the worse" and thank goodness it did.

I think we both learned a very hard lesson in making ourselves happy. We had it all wrong for so long. When a couple member says "he/she doesn't make me happy anymore" warning bells should go off for everyone involved. Being happy is something personal, it's not up to anyone else to MAKE us happy, it's up to us to be a happy person, and in doing so we improve our relationships, our marriage, our everything.  It's about doing what you're doing at a higher level, and having the one you love along for the ride.

Pursuing my degree and excelling in class makes me happy. And apparently horny. So, as the kids roll their eyes and screech "gross! I could have lived my whole life without seeing that" as I smooch their dad from the first step (he's really tall and I can reach his lips better from above) I know deep down that we've all learned a lesson in love...forgiveness...and creating happiness rather than waiting for it to happen. 

Which is why I'm going to go chase my hubs around the house. Wish me luck when the lights go out tonight! 

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Strawberry Fields Forever...(or maybe just once a year for kicks!)


Is where the Strawberry Dictator lives while you pick berries and wait for orders.  She is no doubt part of some larger Strawberry Oligarch, however for two hours, she was my own scary, somewhat angry, strawberry field FIASCO...Dictator.

It sounds so idyllic to say..."oh my, let us go and pick strawberries, how delightful, we shall have shortcake" but let me tell you, the truth of the matter is that strawberry picking is NOT altogether delightful.

The entire task of picking fruit from 6 inch tall bushes, is hard work best done ON YOUR KNEES. It's not easy work, OH no. And do you know what? they call Strawberries Strawberries because they literally grow in the straw, the berries, they're bedded down like mice in your winter storage. Seriously, you are lifting strawberry leaf skirts and rifling through the straw searching for perfect berries and running into mushy, buggy ones.

The Dictator alternately read a book in her truck-berry-camper and stalked the rows, squinting at the squat berry bushes and insisting "you MUST pick the little berries, that's just about all that's left!" and ordering the girls, along with the veteran cowed workers, to double check their rows and carry along iron curtain poles, to plant wherever one leaves off picking. "Lift the plants up ladies! Don't Be Shy!" she shouted, waving her arms about before skedaddling back to read her romance novel.

So...as the work commenced (and it was a LOT of work, we picked 25 quarts) I tossed my tee-shirt in the straw and worked in my cami.  The sun baked my shoulders, the breeze started to feel really amazing and the smell of strawberries became literally intense. 

My daughter, and her friends crawled ahead of me down their berry lanes, springing up to run and show me the strangest shaped berries they could find..."Be careful where you walk honey, you don't want to step on any bushes" I loudly cautioned in a stern voice when the Berry Master peeked out to see what the excitement was all about. (I'm a respectful Berry Peon).

As I lifted leafy skirts, I popped a perfect berry or two or three in my mouth, carefully avoiding the gaze of the Berry Dictator. Then laughed as the girls did the same thing, smacking their lips and smiling seedy toothed smiles, and waving pink stained fingers at me.

As our baskets became full, the whole thing started to feel ideal, other than the whole back-breaking-labor-intensive factor...
and I started having these little flits of happy thoughts in my head, bits of songs like "Here Comes The Sun" and especially a piece from one of my favorite books...A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith... 
People always think that happiness is a faraway thing … something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up. 
Isn't that SO true? Even in a Berry Oligarchy?

Sunday, June 26, 2011

State Parkin' it!

So, the kids are getting big. Like bigger than me big...but they still get excited about going with us...IF we're going somewhere they like to go.

Fortunately for us, we live in the Finger Lakes, we have no shortage of awesome places to take off to right at our finger tips!

If there is one benefit to having kids close in age (12, 14, 16) it's that they're pretty much interested in the same stuff.

Diving into the Olympic sized swimming pool...
The opportunity for new FaceBook Profile Pics...
Dad's grilled Steak & Mushrooms...

Hiking the Glen

and a little freedom to wander while mom gads about taking pictures.            

In a few years, they'll probably have better things to do than hang out with mom and dad...swimming and grilling and chilling.   And wondering why their mom is video-taping the ground, from an inch & a half away...But for now they're all mine. And we have this beautiful place to live in.

Badly attempted video of a winged ant dragging off a spider.

Best wishes,
Rebecca Flys

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

8th Grade Graduation

So, I don't remember having a Graduation ceremony before...you know...ACTUAL high school Graduation.  We just didn't do those sorts of things "back-in-the-day."  But my own kids? Yeah, they learned to zip up their coat in pre-school and they "graduated" to the zipper-upper line.

It started with Pre-K Graduation, then Kindergarten Graduation, then 6th grade Graduation....

Now I'm not saying it isn't a wonderful thing to sit an a newly remodeled auditiorium, which nobody thought to install an air-conditioner or de-humidifier in...it's simply lovely.  I do it for every recital and choral concert of the year. 

I just can't help but wonder how much of it is for real. It seems like a political move by the school staff. Lining them all up on stage in front of us...the new Interim Superintendant giving a big old speech...the Vice Principal (closely followed by the Interim Superintendant) keeping his legs crossed so long the kids beside me started timing it and wondering if he'd be able to stand up without cramping when it was his turn. Babies crying, people clapping before the end when the Principal specifically said not to....It often makes me wonder what the heck we're really all doing there.

They give out a "best boy" and "best girl" award at the 8th grade Graduation.  I have to wonder how that works exactly. How exactly do they determine who is best? Grades? Personality?  What???  Because as I watched the kids all cross the stage (except for the 30 students who have to attend summer school to pass the year) I was proud of them all. Middle school is tough.  I'm sure each one of those kids had someone in the audiance who thought they were the best.  I know my kid did.  

After all the hoopla is complete, a Graduation Ceremony is a great excuse for ice cream after the event is finished. And for some new clothes and shoes, which can later be worn to funerals and weddings. Planning ahead for these potential future events is a good reason to buy the clothes a size large and try to see them as investments, though the truth is my Grow-A-Kid usually only wears the outfit just that once. As a rule of thumb, I've trained myself to consider these things the "bright side" even if I'm likely deluding myself.

As the stage-crossing ceremony commenced I found myself squinting at the kids as their names were called, imagining their faces as I remember them in my heart.  Remembering...the kids in my groups when I chaparoned for the Space Center, and the Oliver House Museum, and even the Punkin' Patch and the Easter Egg Hunts.  Remembering their soccer games and lacrosse games...and even what some of their parents looked like back when we were all in lamaze class. Tonight, these kids looked so grown up. So much like high schoolers.  Where did the little Kindergarteners with their little mini cap and gowns go?

Everybody kept saying how time had flown, how fast they had grown up.  And they really really have.  Watching my 14 year old son swaggar across stage felt like a surprise all of the sudden.  Somehow, the "I want peanut butter and jelly with no holes in the bread" days flew by, flew into these "Mom, she's not my girlfriend...just a friend who's a girl I SWEAR" days (as the phone rings at midnight). 

For me, having kid has been something like when you adopt a kitten. You love playing with the little bugger, you adore it to pieces and you know it's inevitable that it'll grow up...but as it chases string and lets you smother it in kisses...you can't imagine it in a shirt and tie...crossing a stage...shaking hands and graduating....I mean you can't imagine it as a full grown cat.

Yeah, I don't remember having all of these graduations when I was a kid. We didn't have them. We say...that times are faster now. That the computer era has changed us for the worse. We say that things are faster now and everyone is in a hurry.  Yet, here we are...listening to the Interim Superintendant tell us how great our town is, and waiting to see our kids cross a stage and become high schoolers. 

We're all slowing down as a community, to create an event to celebrate our kids and how amazing it is that they're all heading into a new phase of their lives. And this process is something a part of this new generation. 

Somehow, sitting in the nose-bleed seats and inhaling the world's most humid air while listening to the kids next to me (who happened to be my daughters) snicker at the Vice Principal...I realized, some changes are for the better. And hey, our generation may actually have something figured out, that our parent's didn't.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Maybe They Had it Right

So, in the olden days, things like Adultery were illegal.  In fact, it was the law in Texas until 1972 that a man who found his wife in bed with another man was justified in killing the wife and the other man. Of course wives did not enjoy the same privilege.

Adultery "legal terminology" includes words like:  
•Criminal Conversation
•Heart Balm Torts
•Spousal Theft
It's also known as "alienation of affection" and Wikipedia says

"The defendant in an alienation of affections suit is typically an adulterous spouse's lover, although family members, counselors and therapists or clergy members who have advised a spouse to seek divorce have also been sued for alienation of affections."

Which surprised me, I mean I've never heard of someone sueing their mother-in-law for causing their divorce but it MUST happen, I mean it MUST!

I have to say, I think good anti-adultery laws could prevent a hella lotta angst, pain, and domestic abuse.  If there were actually results to cheating...maybe in a perfect Fly world...people would be more honest.  Maybe they'd say "Hey I'm unhappy" rather than going out into the world and finding someone else to drown their invisible sorrows in. Just sayin'

Adultery laws aren't totally dead in our country.  As of January 2008, the only states in the United States that allow alienation of affection lawsuits are: Hawaii, Illinois, Mississippi, New Mexico, North Carolina, South Dakota, and Utah.

Interestingly, let me note that in my home State of New York, the following law is still on the books;
S 255.17 Adultery.

A person is guilty of adultery when he engages in sexual intercourse
with another person at a time when he has a living spouse, or the other
person has a living spouse.
Adultery is a class B misdemeanor.
Apparently this misdemeanor can carry a $500 fine or 90 days in jail. And a Batavia, NY woman who was having sex on a park bench in 2010...with a guy who wasn't her husband...was actually charged with it.

No, really, it's true For Real Look!!!

Some states are more enthusiastic about adultery laws than others.  In North Carolina, jilted spouses have been awarded millions of dollars for something called "Criminal Conversation." Check it Out!

One North Carolina wife,Cynthia Shackelford, sued her husband's mistress and co-worker for "alienation of affection," and WON 9 million dollars. She sounds like a nice lady, and she knows that she'll probably never collect on her "winnings." 

I see her as a crusader for women just like me.  I mean, frankly, when you're washing a man's laundry, keeping his socks white, cooking his dinner, paying the bills with him, and wearing a thong instead of comfy granny panties for him... another woman creeping in and saying "let's just pretend you're single...for tonight!" well, that's a load of hooey.  And when he can't perform for her the first time...and she continues dialing him up and carrying on texting him to get a second try...well...that's just beyond sicko. Seriously, what is WRONG with people?

Falling in love is pretty easy business.

"Hey, you're cute" 
"Hey, you too"
"Hey, you smell nice"
"Hey, you too"

Throw in a really super romantic location (like the one my Skankzilla used)And you're in business;

Courtship is fun.  Then marriage, well once you get there, life is a lot more challenging.  My husband knows I snore.  I know he farts at night, and it's occasionally so rough that even the dog leaves the bed.  He's seen me give birth to his children (not pretty) and I've seen what's inside his...ummm well I watched while he had his vasectomy, enough said. But at the end of the day, this is the man who holds my heart in his hands. When he feels ill, I worry about him. When my back hurts, he asks me "Honey does your back hurt?" When he might be hungry...I feed him. When I drag home junk to upcycle, he sighs. When he polishes his golf clubs, I sigh. When he smiles at me, all is right with my world. 

I just love him. I'll take marriage to him with all of it's trials, tribulations, joys, laughs, good times and bad, until death do we part...because I love him. 

What we learned from his affair? It's simple. We don't want to live without one another. Will I ever take his love for granted again? No. Will he ever forget he couldn't stand being without me...and couldn't stand the thought of missing my birthday? No. Will we be working on moving past this mess for a while? For sure. Will we make it? I really believe so.

One advantage of marriage is that, when you fall out of love with him or he falls out of love with you, it keeps you together until you fall in again. ~Judith Viorst
So continuing on...Cynthia says her lawsuit's purpose was to send a message to women like her husband’s mistress to keep them from going after other married spouses who are still living at home and sleeping in the marital bed. Cynthia, like a lot of betrayed spouses just wants people to respect the sanctity of marriage, saying "you don't go after married men and break up families.”  When she dies, there's a special place in heaven for her, in the Valhalla of Betrayed Wives.

My husband's "Mistress" liked to call me Medusa...even though we'd never met, and I didn't know she existed.  She called me Medusa because during her romantic liasons with my husband she laughingly said I had turned him to stone.  Funny, I thought he liked me a lot when I turned him to stone...lol.  Well, since some stories say Medusa WAS a poor pretty girl turned into a monster by a jelouse Goddess, I'll try to take it as a compliment.

I tended to call her "the pillar of salt" after he came home.

Now that my fear of her is behind me, and I'm excited about my personal future, along with the future of my marriage (the kids are getting older, we have so much more time to do things now! He has learned to TALK and I've learned to LISTEN.)

I think I'm feeling better. I'm feeling more like the woman I thought I'd be...when I was a little girl...than ever before. I think I'm going to be ok. And my family will be okay too.

Don't cheat. Especially in South Carolina (or Texas just to be safe). Talk to your spouse, things in a marriage are so much more fixable than the divorce statistics show us. Learn to SPEAK to one another. Oh, and pick up a copy of "The 5 Love Languages" they should be handing that out for free at the Courthouse when you fill out your marriage paperwork.
More marriages might survive if the partners realized that sometimes the better comes after the worse. ~Doug Larson
Best Wishes,

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Spring vs. Head in the books.

So studying is starting to turn me into a not-so-fun person. It seems that my back pack and a self-guilt trip are always present with me.  I guess that this is just what it's like when grown-ups go back to school.

Places I've Studied;
  • In the laundry mat.
  • In the mini while waiting for kids at sports practice.
  • In the mini while the fam watches lacrosse.
  • on the toilet.
  • In the doctor's office waiting room.
  • At traffic court (for my hubs not me).
  • While pretending to listen in other classes.
  • In the bathtub.
  • While pretending to listen during phone conversations.
  • While burning dinner.

Oddly, just as my deep seated fear of failing has me falling asleep sitting up in bed with a pen in my hand, an open book on my lap and a stack of half-completed flashcards underneath my dog....I find out my daughter is failing Regents Biology.

I want so badly to be the understanding mom. But she's in 10th grade for crying in the sink. Shouldn't she have the fact that NOT FAILING takes a little effort ON HER PART figured out? 

I got the note in the mailbox as I arrived home from class, opened it in the kitchen and immediately headed out into a spring flood type deluge of rain...to go talk to her bio teacher.  Turns out, she doesn't turn in her homework or "correct" (can you believe that crap?) tests.  Sooooo I got the low down, a copy of her lab booklet, copies of all her missing assignments....surprised her as she walked into the lab 30 minutes late with her boyfriend...and headed home to play personal assistant to my 16 year old.

The remainder of the week was spent riding her to complete work.

I generally spend 4-4.5 hours of time each afternoon/evening helping kids with homework. I don't mind doing it. I actually enjoy it, especially when it coincides with stuff I'm studying, like the human heart!  But it really miffs me when I have to practically beg a kid to do their homework.  HELLO does ANYONE see what I'm trying to do here? I study constantly.  Shouldn't they see me as an example?

Cue appropriate verbage:

  • I practice what I preach!
  • I wouldn't ask you to do anything I'm not already doing!
  • I say what I do and do what I say!

I know I'm co-dependant. I get that.
"(co-dependency) often involves putting one's needs at a lower priority than others while being excessively preoccupied with the needs of others"

But at what point exactly does co-dependancy begin? At what point do I stop going to the school, and digging to the bottom of mess' for these kids....so they don't wind up living in trailer parks, sniffing bath salts, and reading copies of People that they stole from the laundry mat (not that I know anything about that)???

Until I figure that out...I'll be working on MY homework at between the hours of 11pm and 4:30am. And buying new socks because I can't find time to search the house for them and wash a load, because my kids can't do these things for themselves consistantly. Advice is welcome.

Before you think I've lost my Inner Becca, take a look at my spring in NY (FINALLY) photos... Thank Goodness Winter Ends Every Year No Matter What!

Best Wishes,


Monday, March 7, 2011

The Laundry of the Megaverse

My school was canceled today.  Due to "inclement weather."  Go Monday cancellations. The kid's schools were not canceled. I would be psyched to have all this free study time, but I have two kids home sick from school.

Also, I have not quite recovered from doing...

The Laundry of the Megaverse!!! 
(Duh Duh Duh Duuuuuh)

THIS is what I did yesterday. One Whole Weeks Worth of Laundry. 12 loads. See, this way I do a whole weeks worth of laundry for five people in just one day. Practically all at once. In only like...four hours.  Also, I get it all done in a warm, friendly place where nobody is bickering and the dog doesn't knock over my pile. And on Sundays at the laundry mat, you hardly ever run into any creepers.

I figure I'm either crazy, lazy, or a complete genius. I mean, so what if the mother ship (aka my mini-van) reeks of dirty socks and random unmentionables, as does my history notebook...(see it there on the folded laundry? And so what if I added a little extra work to the laundry process with all of the basket hauling. I was multitasking! Studying and slaving all at once. (Hence the whole potential genius concept).

God bless return-to-college mamas, every one. I'm starting to see that they should all be knighted by the Queen of England, at LEAST. Or maybe by Jude Law....yeah Jude Law.  Why? well....because he's English too that's why.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Electrons, Frozen Bippies, and the Finger Lakes

Sometimes what you think you are seeing is so far from what you're actually seeing... Lesson learned world, thanks for the scar.  What a week or two.


This week, as I tried to re-learn why so many, or so many electrons go in an outside shell, (TY psych degree which decrees it is imperative I understand how many protons are in your nucleus), our lake was frozen over completely, and I was driving home with these incredible kneel down and pray sunsets to my right. 

I feel like I live in my mother-ship (AKA my silver mini-van), this photo expresses my skewed view of the world from my most frequent vantage point, or from my most natural environment, whichever.

I used to own mittens, but I have kids, so all I have to keep my hands warm are dirty socks, or my own sleeves, otherwise I would have stopped to take pictures sooner. It ended up I made a stop and photographed bare handed. It was so cold out, I think I damaged the nerves in my picture-taking button-pressing finger. I may also have frozen my bippies off. My mom always warned me about that.

You gotta love the Finger Lakes. Even when your fingertips are frozen off, you're pretty sure there isn't enough salt in the free world to de-ice your driveway, and the dog keeps peeing by the door because it's just too cold out there for her...you find yourself nestled in your mini-van, in this pretty little corner of NY, feeling pretty lucky to have such a nice view.  

Oh, and the wine isn't so bad either. 

And it will be summer, eventually, for about five minutes.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Really? Really!!! For REALSIES?

I happened to mention the ages of my kids in a class today and a 20ish looking guy student (who I opened the door for after class, because he was on crutches, so don't be thinking the Flys is into any hanky panky) asked "Can I ask how old you are?"

What the hell, I thought. And I told him the truth. "Almost 35."

"WOW" he says, and I almost kick his crutches out from under him before he limps another step and finishes...."I thought you were like, 25 tops."

"My God," I said, "thank you."

Please notice how McDonalds has improved upon minty green St. Patty's Day perfection by adding whipped cream, AND a cherry to their phenom seasonal concoction, the Shamrock Shake.  I'm def picking up one of these babies on the way home to celebrate my youthful appearance. 

When I get home I'm going to go online, and surf around for places to spout my positive opinion of L'Oreal Revitalift. Yeah, TY L'Oreal, I'm your bitch for life. FOR LIFE.

Monday, February 21, 2011

So, the dark pit is pulling me in a bit, and I'm struggling to "celebrate the small stuff" even though great small stuff is going on all around me.  I know it's there, happening, behind the pile of dirty laundry, past the greasy pans I used to make a shepherd's pie at 6am, and through the frozen windshield that will take an hour to thaw and scrape this morning...

My friends, let's share our bliss, just as we share our challenges... What kindnesses, amazing moments, or happy things are happening around you?  Let's notice them and share.  I feel like I need all the positive I can procure on this frozen NY Monday. How about you?

Two Little Things for Today....

~~I'm grateful for this song that I play on my MP3 every morning on my way to school...

~~I'm emboldened by the little birds, who somehow survive out there in the frozen tundra of my yard, and certainly appreciate the seed I put out for them! The thingee full of snow on the right is where I put stale bread for them...

Here's to hoping I can behave with grace this week...and not throw people's dirty laundry out in the lawn! Again!

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Meditation will Not Help Manage This Mess!

I'm one week into semester one.  The house is falling apart, I've lost three pounds, the dog doesn't recognize me, and several comments made by my children have nearly sent me into hysterics. I will share a few of those quotes along with photos to ensure you comprehend just where I'm coming from....

Finding balance has always been a challenge for me. I can eat a family size bag of Doritos and chow down a few whoopie pies and skip the healthy dinner I made for everyone else if I'm not careful.

The last time I went to college, balance was so far out of my realm it nearly killed me.  I was in a car wreck at 27 weeks pregnant and went into premature labor. The following semester a house fire left us virtually homeless and clothesless with three kids aged 4 and under.  

Back then I saluted God and the messages he had repeatedly sent me to stay at home with my kids, I mean, that's what fate and fortune kept pointing me towards right? Back then I thought if I waited until the kids were a little older, things would be easier. What a romantic I was. Queue forward ten years to the Me I Am Now. Finding balance is just as hard as it was when I was clipping coupons for Huggies.

I've worked full time on salary for years. What I mean is, I know what it is to have 80 hour a week obligations outside of the home. But, after spending a year unemployed and enjoying every minute of my at-home time, I forgot what that meant exactly...and life isn't done throwing curve balls...

We're a mortgage payment behind and we ran out of fuel oil last week. That means we don't have hot water at the moment. The desk top computer stopped opening anything related to Windows, and my ToSHITba has a "mylar" problem with the keyboard that isn't covered by ToSHITba's warranty and the screen got damaged when I shipped it to the Philippines or wherever the darn thing went for repair...so I'm hanging at the college using their computers more than I had anticipated.  My washing machine was busted and it took the guy a week and a half to come fix it, hence a mountain of laundry sat unwashed in the middle of "first week" and had to be hauled to alternate laundry washing locations by moi.

I bet you're wondering "Wow Becca how are you functioning without hot water?"  Well gentle reader, I'm warming up water in a lobster pot and using a milk jug with the top cut off and little holes stabbed in the bottom to give what we like to call "Bucket Showers."  In fact, one of the children has authored an adorable little ditty that goes something like:

"Bucket Shoooower! Bucket Shoooower!
It's a whole lot better than no shower at all!
How how how how I love a bucket SHOWER!!!!"

My hubs is remaining positive, and has pointed out that our current kerosene heating choice is costing us just $50 per week. Our boiler cost us $650 for three weeks. You do the math, it makes me throw up in my mouth a little just thinking about it.  He has also mentioned "I'm married to a college student" with a twinkle in his eye which is quite hot.  However, he wouldn't be thrilled to know I just told the world at large (i.e. the 12 people who follow my blog) exactly what's been going on around here!

(Thank God my husband doesn't read my blog he'd not be too happy I'm letting cats out of the bag left and right.)
It'll all be all right. Things will improve shortly, our taxes have been filed and a return is expected to bring us back up to par, however due to the government's failure to approve some creepy form we're at a stand still until the government stops standing still.

It amazes me how far and how fast things can go downhill when I have to put something for myself...ahead of the little details.  You know, the stuff that you do without thinking about it? Like, remembering to buy toilet paper, and finding people's whatever-the-hell because you cleaned it up earlier... but I have to focus on different priorities or I won't get out of college alive. 

I know we're totally out of whack right now. I know I'm barely holding on figuring out how to balance it all, but I gotta say I finally feel like I know where I'm headed. My mother and father-in-law stopped by out of the blue tonight. The house looks like crap, and for the first time in my life I didn't feel guilty. There's more to me than a clean floor and furniture with the pillows intact and not spread around the room... my identity isn't defined solely by how much and how fast I can clean up after my family. There's more to me than that.
I'm happy.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

OH God What Am I Thinking? The Flys Goes Back to School

I return to college full time TOMORROW. I'm freaking out for a variety of reasons;

  1. Other than my professional work wardrobe, I own two pairs of jeans. One with a prominent rip by the ass pocket which is a humungo problemo because the dogs keep eating my underwear and lord knows nobody wants a peep hole onto my pale ass should one holey layer of fabric overlay another. 
  2. I went to the Office Supply Store and froze when I realized I have NO idea how to organize my schoolwork. 
  3. My intelligence has dropped by probably 20 points since I had kids and my weight has gone up 20 (or 30) pounds.
  4. At 34 I'll be the oldest person in the world there. Maybe even older than the Professors. It's a likely bet I will be the only one with gray hair and a battle worn Dodge Caravan in any of my classes.
  5. My hubs seems to think I'm going for a dental appointment, not preparing to attend full time college for the next billion years.
  6. The last time I spent a week away from home during the daytime, (doing alternate jury duty for a baby's death no less) my Brody Dog ate my sofa's face off. What on Earth will he do while I'm in Bio lab?
  7. The last two semesters I went to college, I had a major car wreck while expecting baby #3, and a house fire which left me with one, yes ONE pair of underwear (clean unchewed underwear are a must have of mine). This means the Rule Of Threes owes me One.
  8. I'm scared of screwing up.

Settling down young knocked the wind out of my sails for 13 years. I mean, I totally loved the lagoon I found myself in. I got great joy out of digging through poop looking for a missing penny that may or may not have been swallowed. I learned how to use the process of elimination to discover how best to remove Silly String from walls without damaging too much paint.  

When they were little, and I was knee deep in diapers, I told myself I would go back to school when they were older, and life was a little less challenging.  Well, my kids are growing up, about to hit the 12, 14, and 16 marks and now I understand...just cuz they're bigger doesn't mean the challenges get easier, it just means they can tie their shoes WHILE they present challenges.

My life and accomplishments for 13 years have been colored by the approval of my children; "mom, this dinner is pretty ok, can we have pizza Friday?" or "Hey, great you remembered to buy shampoo!"  And while I'm incredibly accomplished at ordering pizza and the dirty dog reek of a 13 year old boy's sweaty head from two rooms away because he refused to use his sister's "sweet pea" scented shampoo... has endowed me with super-memory-shopping powers worthy of praise...I'm thinking that COLLEGE may be somewhat more of a challenge than child-rearing ever was.

I had to go to Campus today, on Super Bowl Sunday.  As I parked my mother-ship (AKA my mini-van) and walked around, I felt like a total weirdo.  Like I'm invading a summer camp my kids don't go to. The students look so young...even some of the prof's look young. When did I get so old?

Surreal happenings of the day; I spent $160 on a paperback text book. I kept thinking people in the lines were talking to me, but they were talking over their phones directly into my ears.  The Registrar sent me to the school nurse who made me fill out a form listing all of my family members, she asked "do you have a physical form and vaccination record?" and I said, "for who, for all of them?"  She tilted her head like I had said something strange, and that's when I realized she didn't want my kid's records...she wanted mine. Duh. 

When I got home at 6pm I tripped over shoes by the door, was informed our natural gas tank is inexplicably empty and I've been asked what's for dinner no less than 3 times.  My husband just told me he loves our daughter's very much but if they don't stop interrupting the Super Bowl he's going to wring their beautiful little necks. 

I'm hiding in here blogging and trying to remind myself that whatever doesn't make you criminally insane keeps you out of jail. Though I hear in prison they give you "three hots and a cot" and right at this moment, that sounds quite ideal. 

My prayer for the next few years "Dear Lord, please help me stay strong and get through school so I can afford to hire a housekeeper, and send my husband TO the Super Bowl so he doesn't strangle our daughters...one magical day in my not so far off future!"

Best wishes,