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Monday, August 18, 2008

Events of The Weekend

I have struggled over the last few days about how to best relay the events of the past weekend. Some fairly substantial things occurred, but I only want to give credence to the important ones, the uplifting events, the moments of pure sunshine. However, the instances of really appalling behavior by some people seem to keep jumping to the front of the line in terms of what I want to write about. Let's just get that out of the way and move on to the cool stuff.

We spent Saturday evening listening to our phone ring non-stop, the attempts of Scott's ex-wife to break through the peaceful shell that we surround our family with. Full disclosure is not necessary at this time (although stay tuned for some really gruesome, shocking revelations later...I mean Dr. Phil or Jerry Springer stuff). Some bare basics: We have custody of Scott's 17 year old daughter because the ex-wife choose to remain married to and living with the man who molested the child. That truly is all you need to know right now and those facts, at least according to the Circuit Courts of Palm Beach County Florida, are not in the least bit in dispute. Moving on....every once in a great while the ex-wife allows some bug to crawl up her ass and decides that the best way to alleviate the burden of her life is to dump her collective garbage on us. Don't you wish we could all do that? Decide some burden is too great for you to bear and you can simply decide to give that to someone else. Take your pain and give it away. Seriously, though, what is left behind? Isn't pain part of what makes you who you are today? The person you are at this moment in time is a collective potpourri of your entire life experiences. If you diminish that, reduce that, don't experience that, then you are not your entire self. Anyway, when these calls start coming in we usually have a habit of simply ignoring them. What is that phrase...if a raving lunatic is shrieking in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still bitch? We have decided the answer to that is a resounding "no". For the first two phone calls we simply hung up after hearing the first few syllables. For the third phone call, we told her that should she call again we will call the sheriff in her county. For the fourth phone call, we told her that she had been warned and out next call is to the authorities. At the fifth phone call, I asked her in my most exasperated tone, "Do you have something you urgently need to tell us?". What followed was an array of disjointed, illogical crazed thoughts followed occasionally by some sort of justification for her husband having molested her baby girl (e.g., "If it really happened, why didn't she tell Scott?". Hmm, that's a thinker...how about because you warned her NOT TO?) and just for good measure some intimate details of their relationship from about a million years ago. Am I supposed to be jealous, because unless I walk in on you on your knees in front of him (insert your own image here) I could care less about what happened so long ago. You get to a certain point in your marriage, where that kind of crap from the past so does not matter. What matters is paying bills, planning vacations, raising these kids and the fact that you come home to me each night and smile sweetly at me each morning. I listened to her rambling for longer than I should have, in the same way as when you are on the highway and see those flashing ambulance lights up ahead. You swear you won't peek at a strangers blood and guts and misfortune, but you just can't help but glance over. At some point I hung up and just called the sheriff, as promised. For now, peace has again descended on our home. It will take more than that to crack our shell.

One of the actual highlights of the weekend was my 15 year old Bradley getting the guitar of his dreams. He had reduced himself all summer to "girls work" (read: babysitting) and finally had the big bucks for this amazing red guitar. It truly is shiny and impressive - - is there some talent in that box, too? Scott said that if he read the directions that came with the instrument then he would be Clapton or Page in no time. He's kidding. What Bradley lacks in talent he makes up for in complete enthusiasm and props (think long blond hair, black Van Halen shirts, and an array of cool guitar picks). He also has a bevy of musical knowledge tucked in his brain, that even I find impressive. What kind of guitar Jimi Hendrix played, all the bands Eric Clapton played with, full names of all members of Led Zeppelin. No Hannah Montana, Jonas Brothers or gangsta rap for this kid! I enjoy watching Bradley's unfolding talent and endlessly encourage him (okay, with the occasional....er, frequent...mocking of his long golden locks). And just in case my musician is reading this, I do see a spark of talent. Practice, practice, practice!

This was my weekend. Oh, plus about 50 errands, 150 "why" questions from our 5 year old girl, and stepping on a countless number of Polly Pockets and their super cool clothes. Damn my feet hurt....so why am I still smiling??

Friday, August 15, 2008

Welcome - - My Blog, My Life

Hmm...I can't fathom that anyone could possibly be interested in reading about my life. Hell, sometimes I don't even want to be a participant myself. Seriously, what wisdom can I possibly be able to share with you? I don't know that my life experiences vary that much from your very own. There are highlights (my amazing husband, these borderline looney kids that share my space, my travels) and many many lowlights (a miscarriage, my father's suicide, being fired), but mainly there is just minutia. Chicken or beef? Paper or plastic? Gymnastics or ballet? Missionary or doggy? Fan or air conditioner? What I bring to the blogging table, I suppose, is insight and depth...an ability to look at life and see more than just the surface pieces but great humor in all things human and great humanity in all of spectrums of life. I look around me at this zoo I live in and can not imagine how either (1) any one of the 5 of us is sane, (2) no one has killed another yet and (3) HOW AM I GOING TO FIND THOSE DAMN SCHOOL FORMS BEFORE AUGUST 27TH??!! I watch enough "Oprah" or "Trading Spaces" to know that the clutter that surrounds me reflects a disturbance in the soul of this family and that a tidy home = a tidy life. ARGH! You may see clutter and disarray, but I see a home that is pulsing with family and love. The gym bag laying on the floor? This tells me that a daddy loves his princess enough to drive her to gymnastics classes each week. The paperwork splayed across Scott's desk? Testament to his blossoming business. Undeveloped film from South Dakota? Priceless memories from an amazing family adventure. This is my life. This is my home. I make no excuses, but I do make dinner. Crap! I was supposed to put some new Chicken Crock Pot montrosity on about two hours ago. Hey...I'll blog about that tomorrow!!