That Love Holiday

It’s Valentine’s Day.  I told my husband that I didn’t want anything, I didn’t want to do anything.  I just wanted a hug and be done with it.  I’m not the biggest fan of Hallmark Holidays anyways.  Well.  It didn’t quite work out that way.

In years before we celebrated Valentine’s days.  Nice dinners at home (because I hate going out on V-day,) one year he got me a gorgeous bracelet.  During our long distance time together (apart?) I got us a matching set of Bluetooth earbuds to make our super long phone calls a little easier.  Regardless, neither of us are big on giving or receiving gifts.  We do it, but that isn’t either of our love languages.

Neither of us could seemingly resist though.  He brought me lunch at work.  (It was Taco Time…. Canada’s version of Taco Bell.  I’m sure he’s regretting it now.)  It was nice to just spend a little extra time with him.  During the afternoon, I couldn’t resist.  I sat down and wrote him a letter about how much I appreciate and love him, and I stuck it to a box of Mucinex LOL!  On his way home, he got me a beautiful card that really spoke about our relationship and some chocolates.  Although we said we weren’t going to do anything, neither of us could help doing at least a little sentiment.  He also cooked supper and folded the laundry.  I got a huge hug and lots of kisses.  Those are the kinds of things that speak to me.

But in reality, we don’t need one particular day to celebrate our love.  We do that every day.  Every morning we wake up in each others’ arms.  We get ready for work together, and he drops me off.  We talk most of the day through texts.  He picks me up.  We cook supper together, do chores together, and I tickle him every night before bed.  He hates it.  But he always laughs as I exclaim “BUT I HAVE TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU!!!!!!” as he groans that he knows.  We laugh.  We fall asleep cuddled up to each other.  And that’s our love.  It’s not huge bouquets of flowers on a cold day in February.  It’s not showering each other with endless gifts.  It’s the day to day mundane things that make us whole.

I’ve never in my life felt as appreciated as I do now.  I’m so thankful for the special kind of love that we have.  And I’m honored to inspire others with our relationship and give others hope that there is love out there, and that it is worth it.  ♥

Have You…

“Have you blogged lately?” my darling husband asked, after a seemingly restless evening.  He doesn’t read my blog much (not that anyone does,) so it meant a lot to me that he noticed that I hadn’t put many thoughts down as of late.  I felt oddly heard?  Noticed?  Acknowledged?  It felt good that he’d asked about something that I’d been doing… or haven’t for that matter.

I’ve been pretty stressed out lately.

I’m not as happy as I once was with my work situation.  I mean it’s a far cry from the job I had before that made me come home in tears every day.  But the back and forth back and forth just isn’t okay.  Re-negotiations on my pay scales, approved overtime to work on special projects no longer available because a part timer person will just be brought in to take on some of my regular tasks so that I can focus on something else that has nothing to do with our company.  Not enough staffing to be able to take a sick day when I can barely breathe.  Worrying about if there’s going to be enough money in the bank in a few months to be able to pay all of the expenses.  That should be a personal problem, not a professional problem.  Overtime that was supposed to be paid out weekly in the new year turned into time-in-lieu instead…..trying to figure out how to take 6 weeks off from work between said time in lieu + vacation time.  It just sucks ’cause the bossman is an excellent person and has helped our family out a great deal.  But when it comes to workflow, everything is in shambles.  If I were single without stepchildren, maybe I wouldn’t care as much, but my marriage and my relationships with my husband’s children are more important to me than that.

Which brings me to my next point of stress.  Being a step parent sucks sometimes.  It’s wonderful because it’s filled a little bit of a void I’ve had on the kid front.  After having 5 miscarriages and not being able to have children of my own, I sometimes struggle with knowing I’m an amazing parent and that I have a lot to contribute to a tiny life…..it’s just that I can’t bring that life into this world.  It sucks because something that happened before me dictates part of my current life.  It sucks more because I don’t directly have a voice in the matter; thankfully my husband stands his ground now and voices what’s best for all involved, even in the face of objection.
Over the last 2 years, my step kids’ bio mom hasn’t given me the time of day.  I’ve tried to put many different olive branches out there and have tried to bridge the gap.  I’ve gone out of my way to try to not cross boundaries and to put a hard divide between mom and step mom.  I know that I’m not her favorite person.  I know that she has certain insecurities.  And that’s okay.  But what’s not okay is not giving another human being a certain degree of common courtesy, then just inviting yourself over to interact with them.  I’m sorry, if you can’t so much as say hello to me in a public place, you have no business trying to integrate yourself into my life.  I’m thankful that he told her no.  I’m thankful that he stood up for me.  I wish I could stand up for myself, though.

Anywho, these things have been weighing on me.  Plus being sick hasn’t helped.  The kids were sick, then I had a fit of allergy madness, then my husband got sick and is getting over the crud, but now the kids are back and one of them is sick…again…. I swear they’re always sick. Sometimes it just feels like there’s always something, and no amount of self care really helps alleviate the stress.  So that’s sorta where I’m at right now and the reason for the lack of blogging.  Hopefully soon I’ll snap out of it and will have the mental capacity to write on a regular basis again.

 

Happy Anniversary

I am the woman that rocked a leather jacket with her backless lace wedding dress. He is the man who cracks off the most insane puns and dad jokes without missing a beat. We are unique. Together we are the perfect pair.

They say that the first year of marriage is always the most difficult. Although my husband and I have faced many obstacles together, I didn’t find our first year of marriage to be that tough. Maybe it was the leather. Maybe it was the constant stream of laughs.

We faced a lot. My immigration and permanent residency. His ongoing co-parenting (or lack thereof) BS. My necessary job change. Vehicle breakdowns. The death of my grandfather and of my piece of crap mother. Unexpectedly reworking an already tight budget and moving. Loss of friends. A crazy work season. It. Was. A. Lot.

We never fought though. We’ve had ample discussions, learning experiences, and struggles, but we’ve never had an actual fight. Some may think that’s a bad thing, but I think it’s amazing. I’m moved by the amount that we communicate. Neither of us are perfect by any means, but we are certainly perfect for each other.

I adore our marriage. We still go on dates. He opens doors for me. I tickle him every night. We spend quality time with one another. We help each other with household chores. We grocery shop together. He’s my best friend and my biggest cheerleader in life. The support that we have for one another is breathtaking.

Getting married didn’t change our relationship, it just removed some of the barriers of our circumstance. I know of a lot of couples that once they tied the knot, everything changed. I’m thankful that my husband is my rock and a constant in my life. He lets me dance to the beat of my own drum, but makes sure to help me be grounded when I need it. I’ve never experienced such an amazing soul.

Thanks for the amazing year babe! I look forward to growing old with you. Happy Anniversary ❤️

Lazy Day

Because of the most absurd custody arrangement that my husband is subjected to, every Christmas day is fairly uneventful. We dropped the kids off on Christmas Eve and proceeded to have some much needed time together.

We had a full on lazy day.

We stayed in bed longer than normal. We had a huge brunch and played video games. We watched some Netflix. We cooked supper then played some more video games. Aside from a couple of hectic phonecalls, today was pleasantly uneventful.

We needed it.

I don’t think people truly appreciate the impact that the occasional lazy day can have on people. How well it can help rejuvenate and refresh you from being so run down.

Holiday Hysteria

I’m tired.


Huge shout-out to my darling husband.  He is by far the most patient man alive. Thanks for your support babe. No clue what I’d do without you.

Why do I give him incredible praise right now for his patience?  Well. Lately I’ve been working a solid 50 hours per week, usually 7 days per week, not including all the texts and emails I’ve tended to while at home. When he gets off work, he comes to my office, and we have microwaved leftovers for supper on styrofoam plates with plastic forks. It’s tense, but at least we get to have a meal together.

When I took this job, we knew that the Christmas season would be hell. Just another week of chaos left.  We’re in the home stretch, but I’ve got a huge push to do so that I can get all of the financials in order for the company. Preemptive payroll, finalize schedules, figuring out what to do with a shithead employee who has caused a pretty big ruckus.  Blah.

This weekend, we finally had some work-free and kid-free time to spend together. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I love my stepchildren, but nothing tops being able to spend some one-on-one time with my better half. 

Despite my longing to have more time to tend to our marriage, I look forward to our family get-together.  This year we had family photos done and had them turned into gorgeous Christmas cards. Annnnnnd we have something huge planned for the kids.

I’ve found a new love for the holidays, but man they’re exhausting and I can hardly wait for it to be over!

The Comfort of Snow

Growing up, snow made me uneasy. The great snow of 1989 in North Carolina was particularly unsettling. I was incredibly young. My dad made me a slushy from the snow and a Coca-Cola. In the evening, he and my mother got into a nasty fight. My life changed for the worse during that snow storm. The next time I saw snow was Autumn of my 16th time around the sun. I’d just moved to Kentucky because my father and I had an explosive fight where we nearly killed each other. Literally. When I arrived, the first couple of days were bright and sunny. But then, overnight, there was a few inches of snow on the ground. I woke up thinking my mother was playing a sick prank on me. While walking home from my first day at my new school in that snow, my older step sister was waiting outside for me letting me know that the house was mostly empty, that her dad decided to leave my mother, and that she wanted to make sure it had nothing to do with me or coming to KY. She made sure to remind me that I was loved and that she was sorry. I got blamed for it anyway. The only enjoyable memory I really have involving snow (prior to moving to Canada) was the time I had the opportunity to be with my godson during his first snow experience. It was amazing. But he’s a boy I’ll likely never see again, so that in itself makes it sad. Most of my car problems throughout my driving history have been in the snow. Snow was always just kinda messy for me.

But it seems that since I’ve moved, my views on snow has changed. Canadian Snow is different. I got engaged while snow still covered the ground. It snowed on my wedding day. I’ve had snowball fights with my step children. I’ve kissed in the snow, laughed in the snow, danced in the snow. So many good memories are being made to replace the bad ones.

The past couple of weeks have been stressful. My mother was diagnosed with lung cancer then died a few days later. It temporarily put me on an emotional roller coaster that I promptly found a way off of. I “broke up” with someone that was once my best friend. I grew tired of only being important when it was convenient for people, and she was one of them. Friends have seen her make snide remarks about it in various tagged posts on Facebook. It’s stupid and petty. For a couple of days, work was abnormally rough, but thankfully rebounded. I feel like garbage from my flu shot. My back is killing me from contortionist positions I had to get into for our family photo shoots, reminding me that I’m not as young or as flexible as I used to be. Then both of our vehicles decided to crap out at the same time, thankfully one of them being an easy fix, but the other will be costly. My stepchildren have been jerks all weekend. And to put the icing on the cake I got a snarky “That’s right, come to your mama” along with a smug glare when passing off my youngest stepson to his mother. It was really just shit I didn’t need added to my plate.

Just when I thought I couldn’t deal with any more crap, I looked out of the window and saw it snowing outside. Not much – a light dusting – but it’s cold enough for the snow to stay for a few days. I found it oddly comforting. As I watched the snow create a thin blanket over the ground, I felt my frustrations fall away with it. None of the above things matter. I deserve better than how people have and do treat me in life. (And I’m thankful to those who put as much back into me as I put into them.) The snow falling made the things that I can’t control just fall away. Had you asked me years ago if I’d ever like snow, I’d have laughed. But now? I find it rather relaxing. Here’s to snow, the blanket of comfort and solitude.

Passive Aggressive Bullshit

“‘Cause maybe some day I’ll walk away and say ‘You fucking disappoint me.’  Maybe we’re better off this way.”
Passive –  A Perfect Circle

Over the last few days people have come out of the woodworks in order to contact me.  People I haven’t seen or heard from in two decades or more.

While I can appreciate people thinking of me to finally reach out, it’s all so strange.

I don’t know what you want from me.  I don’t know what you want me to say.  I don’t know how to comfort you.  And I don’t want to.

It’s nothing against you.  I just don’t have comfort to give.  I don’t have compassion for the woman who has put you in a state of grief.

I left for a reason.  I stopped talking to her for a reason.  I haven’t been there for 8 years for a reason.  Do you even know the reason?

It was never because I was some rebellious kid angry at her parent.  And honestly it wasn’t even because of me.  I didn’t care anymore about what happened to me.  It’s not always about ourselves.

Did you know she had a son?

So many didn’t.

What did she tell you?  What did she tell you about my departure?  What did she tell you about her son?  You know what, I don’t want to know.  She fabricated so much.  So many lies.

22 years prior to her death, on the same date, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.  One that she neglected his special  needs.  One that she abused.  One that she didn’t care for.  One that I couldn’t have a relationship with after she lost custody of him because I didn’t want to upset his life.  Because I didn’t want him to bear the burden of knowing that he had a mother that didn’t give a fuck about him.

You see, I may have forgiven her for the things that I endured.  But her son deserved none of her evil ways.

I can’t even tell you that I’m sorry for your loss.  I try to never wish bad things on others.  But I can’t tell you that I’m sorry for your loss because it would be a lie.  The woman you think you knew and the woman I grew up with are two vastly different people.

You knew what she wanted you to see.  I knew a monster.  A monster with no conscience.  A monster who never had to face the consequences of her actions.

A monster that didn’t deserve the peace that death brings.

I already mourned the loss of my mother.  Not the woman, but the figure.  I didn’t have what the rest of you took for granted.  So please don’t expect me to partake in your grief.  I already walked that road.

“But how could this have happened?”  I’m sorry, but have you met my mother?  She set herself up for this fatal ending.  She knew the risks when she went down the paths she wanted to go down.

May you find the strength to deal with whatever this is.
I’ll stick to my passive aggressive bullshit, thanks.