Family Always Welcome?

My sister-in-law invited herself to visit us. I know family is supposed to have an open invitation and all that, but not when it's my husband's family. And there was not even an obligatory phone call to me to arrange details, although I did get a trip itenirary today with her suggested travel dates and her selected flights. Great. (please read in your head with the most sarcasm possible)

Compounding my distaste for this visit is that my husband works on weekends, with Monday and Tuesday as his days off. Every weekend. He's had this schedule for 2 years. Two. Years. We (read: husband) have told the sister multiple, and I mean multiple, times of this schedule, but her alcohol-soaked brain hasn't retained the knowledge.

Her visits are never quite as bad as I anticipate, but I hate pretending. The Sister is ALL about pretending that she has the greatest parents in the world and pretending we are all one happy family when the last time she had a conversation of any depth and meaning with her brother was at least two years ago.

Her visit to us when our son was 6 weeks old consisted of asking if he "did anything else" when he was lying on the floor. Umm. Yeah. She also attempted to distract a group of two four year-olds by turning around, lowering her pants while simultaneously lifting her top to show of her tramp stamp. This, while saying, "Hey look kids, wanna see my tattoo?"

It was an SNL skit brought to life and so bizarre that I cna't make shit like this up. Needless to say, I am thrilled about this impending visit.

Did I mention that she also never shuts the hell up? Should be fun. No wonder my husband will willingly take vacation in order to prevent me from being alone with her for extended periods of time. Smart choice. Yet another reason I love this man.

Raindrops on Roses and Stuffed Animals in Windows

My coworker (we'll call her Yvonne for the purposes of this post) has a stuffed Smurf wedged into the ledge where the windshield and driver door meet. She's 33, maybe even 34, and I don't get it. To be honest, I never have. How does a self-respecting person with a career decide that

"You know what my car needs? A stuffed animal in the window. That's how I'll complete my look."

Needless to say, I try to like this girl. Yvonne has her good side, but the dingy-I'm-so-spacey routine wears thin about 30 seconds into her high-pitched tinkling laugh. Bottom line is that most ditzy people kinda drive me ape-shit. They drive me double ape-shit (I have a feeling there are more descriptive terms, but we'll stick with that one) when, clearly, an individual with a Master's degree has a lick of sense that they are choosing not to use. . . or to broadcast that they have. And how the hell do you go into social work and then not want to go to 'gross' places, like county healthcare doctor's offices? Isn't that contra-indicated on the job description?

Yvonne also requires a GPS to locate places that she frequents. And she smacks. Loudly. MAJOR irritation. And she has little-to-no initiation or follow-through unless someone leads her by her sweet little hand through the minutia of a process that is printed out in front of her.

Remember how I said that I try to like Yvonne? I think this post is my realization that phase has officially come to a close. The stuffed animal in the window should have been my tip-off long ago.

Praise and Hallelujah

My wacked mother-in-law (yes,her again) sent us the following text today:

Dad wz offrd a contingt offr of empjymnt w/ ft myrs arprt for job. PTL

Uhhh. Yep. "PTL"=Praise the Lord. (Heaven points) Because I am certain that God totally orchestrated the man getting a job offer. Never mind that they moved off 2 and a half years ago, half-way across the country, without jobs to take care of a 92 year old man. Predictably, this man is no longer living. Surprise. Also surprisng that there weren't jobs in an area devastated by the recession.

Job for Father-in-Law=In-laws staying far, far away from us= me, PTL.

THAT family member

You know you have one. Everyone does. Right? If they don't, then I am totally rationalizing by sticking to it. One of my cousins, one who is THAT family member, except when I'm talking about my cousin in prison (ahhh! Did I just type that?)made a horrid comment in a public forum. Like one where people could see that I know him and that we share grandparents. (*Insert grimace here*)

Scenario:
I made an innocent comment on my other cousin, his sister's facebook, about her 19 year-old son and his kissy-face pictures, complete with girlfriend hickey. I was mostly kidding about him being too young to have a "love of his life." Funny right? Yeah, so my incredibly biggoted boy-cousin pipes up and says (and this is a direct quote):

He is 19 years old and a Marine, I think he's old enough to have a girlfriend and kiss, I would be totally distrubed if he didn't, they are first loves what do think they are going to do?
Really? Especcially since all the PC people except all the gay faggots?

I don't even know what point the last bit is supposed to make, but I do know that he used the term "gay faggots" in real life. SHEESH. How embarrassing is that? Rationally, I know that his ignorance doesn't reflect on me or make me ignorant, but I try really damned hard to be all open and accepting and stuff. Sigh.

And this is how "THAT cousin" got the label of "THAT cousin." Of course, the title was helped along by his full on, hard core make-out session on the dance floor of my weddin'. HUGH-MILL-EEE-AY-TING. Like people rushed over to me (the bride) and asked who was mugging down. Wow. Just wow.

Do you think THAT cousin deserves the term "faggot?" Yeah, I totally agree.

Everyone has THAT family member, right? Right?

Irritated without a cause

Does this happen to you? It happens to me all the time. Most of the time I am a nice, compassionate person, but then I become irrationally angry, bitter or frustrated for no good reason and it reminds me that, deep-down, I am a bitch. Now I know you're thinking, oh, she can't be all bad, blah, blah, blah. But I know it's true. Let me write you a little diddy about how convinced I am:

1. My mother-in-law sent me a perfectly nice email this week, after I did my good deed of sending her pictures of my son. I swear that every damn sentence ends in an exclamation point, with the cherry on the top of this particular sundae of irritation being her sign off, "Love ya!"

Let me tell ya, that lady Doesn't love me. Doesn't with a capital 'd.' Over the course of my 5 year romance with her son, during which he has been estranged, I am fairly certain that the blame from that estrangement lands right in a fat blob at my feet. I am know this after the 7 month period of her not contacting me when I was pregnant with her grandchild, failing to come to my bridal luncheon because she was "too busy," and behind-the-back conversations with her extended family about my controlling nature over her son that lead his aunt to comment that he needed to "put his foot down" with me. This allows her to absolve herself from any guilt that the estrangement might be possibly due to leaving her 8 year old son in Denver for a month at a time when he was sick. Nothing.to.do.with.that.at.all.

All of this is to say that what most people would find to be a perfectly nice email makes my skin crawl and creates a black smudge on my heart when I see those damned exclamation points.

2. My co-worker, a dear friend, is pregnant and has most recently had some minor complications. This prevented her from fully devoting herself to a whole day of new employee orientation that required me to fill in. Clearly she couldn't help this, but I feel like it's always something. Illogical anger erupted in my soul. How hateful can one person be, anyway? Looks like I'm trying to find out.

3. People who don't think through their own thoughts to make educated opinions. My husband can be like this, I, of course, lay this at the feet of his parents. On "Top Chef" this week, taking place in Washington D.C.(yes, I am a reality tv junkie), we saw a flash of Nancy Pelosi's face.
Him: "Ugh. I hate her. Why would they put her on? She's worthless."
Me: "Why? What about her makes you have such a violent reaction compared to other politicians?"
Him: "She's just terrible."
Me: "I know a lot of people don't like her, but again, why is she worse than the others?"
Him: "I just don't think she's done anything for the country."

I'm pretty certain this means he doesn't really know what she's done. Or hasn't done. But more that his highly educated sports radio commentators bash her, so it must be true, right? Think for yourself!!!!!!!!! Why are you so stoopid to believe someone else's prejudices and swallow their opinions as your own? (That's me screaming at him on the inside. I didn't actually yell.). See, illogical anger?

4. I sincerely hoped for my sister to be at least somewhat miserable while pregnant. Sincerely. I don't hope this for all pregnant women, just her. Her because I know that she thought I was milking my nauseated misery for attention or effect. I know that because she thought that of her other miserably nauseated friend. That's why I was kinda hoping for her to see that no one most people don't actually want to puke their brains into a Wal-Mart bag or at least consider that as a viable option for survival.


And this my friends, is why I easily gather internal righteous indignation and illogical anger. Most it just means that I am a bitch. A bitch full of illogical anger.

Losing my Witness. . . ?

I am not certain exactly what this phrase is supposed to mean, but I had a parent of a child with whom I work drop it in conversation today.

Conversation:

Parent: I am glad you weren't here a few minutes ago, you would have really seen me lose my temper.
Me: Oh?
Parent: Blah, blah, blah (how a government official made her angry, totally legit) and then I lost it and used a bad word and totally 'lost my witness.'
Me: Ohhh. Uncomfortable giggle.

So the moral of the story is that if you use a curse word, you lose Heaven Points? I just wanna be clear on how many points I'm losing when I let loose. Are you charged more points for pulling out the big guns of the 'f' word? Does it cost the same if you curse in a foreign language? Or what about if you substitute "dad-gummit" for God Damn (the one curse word I reallllly hate)? Same points or less?

Or maybe you only lose points if other people hear you curse, because then they won't believe in God anymore? I sincerely hope that my use of the words shit, fuck, or damn doesn't make someone believe in God less. . . . or lose faith in a higher being. . . or lose their spiritual connection to Mother Nature, whatever their belief may be. I have to live convinced that God has bigger things to worry about than combinations of letters that are made to be 'bad.' Right? Can I get a HELL yeah?

Lost in Love (and oh-so-annoying)

I used to be the kind of girl who transformed my being, my essence, my interests--me--to date every general jerkwad on the planet. Okay, I exaggerate. Not every jerkwad, just a select few. Lucky me. Then I wised up, spent a fortune in counseling, figured my shit out (to borrow terminology from my previous post), got married, had a kid and KEPT MY FRIENDS.

I have a friend who is deeply, sincerely engrossed in a kind of love that is all-encompassing and sucks away your every interest. As a long time friend, I am thrilled. Ecstatic that she has found someone who loves and appreciates her for all of her talents, her insecurities and eccentricities. I am, however, sad. Sad for the loss of availability and shared experiences. Isn't that, in essence, the composition of friendship? The shared experience? I am convinced.

So I find myself being bitter and hateful to cover the sadness at being replaced by a BOY. Okay, okay, the word "boy" is totally inappropriate in this instance. I'm pretty convinced of that, too. Because isn't 56 officially past use of the term "boy"?

Oh, what's that you say? You were expecting this story to be about my glamorously needy friend in her early 20s? Turns out I left out one small detail--the friend to which I refer is 50. Looking just down the way at 51. Perhaps that's what so damn aggravating. Another omitted detail: this friend has never been married. She has been known even to complain that her married friends have lost sight of her, ignored her, left her out of their social calendars in favor of 'couple-time.' I was essentially threatened upon the eve of my nuptials to not leave my girlfriends in the dust. And generally because my husband drives me crazy I love my girlfriends, I have kept them right up there as part of the co-stars of my show.

Rats. Damnation. I get that love is all fun and engrossing, but what the hell do you talk about with all that time together? Maybe if you're single for 50 years, lovin' lets loose a stream of desire that can't be quelled. Maybe she's throwing that man's scrawny ass down on the bed, on the floor, on the grass. . .well, you get the picture and I am truthfully trying to avoid that picture. I just know that no matter how much you love a friend, watching them eating crow over words once spoken to you in bossiness advice, can bring a large outpouring of joy. See, I told you--hateful and bitter.

Bumper Sticker Faith

I'm 99% sure that if one's religious dogma can be summed up on a bumper sticker, it's over-simplified and dumbed down enough to make the person feel superior and safe. This is the sort of religion practiced by my mother-in-law. The kind of belief system that is founded on acting nice to earn Heaven Points. The lady has to do her best to earn Heaven Points because of the travesties she visited on her children. I feel certain, somewhere she has a hidden "In Case of the Rapture, this Car Will be Unattended" or "My Boss is a Jewish Carpenter" bumper sticker, just waiting to pop it on to show others her moral superiority.

It would take far too long in one post to list the sins of that mother, but the simple version is that she abandoned three children. Abandoned.Her.Children. Not the sibling group that produced my husband, this was before him. This was when she came home to find her husband in bed with another woman and decided to leave. Leave her children with a man she deemed not worthy of continued marriage. I know this story will likely continue to resurface here. But this is why that woman who I would like NOT to claim as my mother-in-law needs Heaven Points. Stat. And finds that being extra pious and judgy gets her just the points she needs, people that get in her way be damned.

Find your passion. Damn it.

Last night, I was visiting a few friends at a local summer camp,and we were joined by one of their staff members I have met exactly once. The word 'acquaintance' might even be a bit of a stretch in this case. Back to my story. This acquaintance, I'll call her Katie for the purposes of this post, was discussing her new teaching job in the big ghetto city from her one previous in the boonies. She was so excited that she would only be teaching one subject and that her really hard summer assignment had not, as of yet, been the subject of any student complaints.

I should mention here that this group of friends includes two of the finest teachers I know. That makes Katie's bold assertions that much more embarrassing, to my mind.

Turns out she had gotten the rotten assignment of teaching several different subjects in the most recent school year. One was English and her kids were "like so bad" that she could give them vocabulary "to do" the whole period and they wouldn't do it. Hmm. Really? Imagine that "doing" vocabulary doesn't seem appealing for a whole hour of class. Now Katie scanned the faces of the group looking for commiseration in their chuckles only to be left wanting. Her next statement involved stating that she also taught a Crimial Law class, which could have been really "cool," but instead, she just played "Law & Order" videos everday. Face-scanning for chuckles by Katie. These classes were evidently failures because the kids got assigned to the electives instead of getting to choose their own adventure.

Appalling, isn't it? Those darn kids just weren't interested in copying definitions for hours at a time. Imagine. How does one "do" vocabulary, anyway? Shouldn't a good teacher actually. . . well, teach? Teach by providing new vocabulary in context and challenging students to reach their full learing potential? I'm fairly certain the answer should be yes, I know it is for my friends who represent the shinier side of teaching. Too bad the student didn't get to pick their curriculum--let's make it fun and learn anyway. . .if a student resists, well so be it, just shut up so that they can keep teaching the more pliable minds. And watching Law & Order? Are you effing kidding me? With all of the crazy-ass psycho scary criminals out there, one couldn't be highlighted to grab the attention of teen-agers fascinated by freakish gore?

Lazy. Go.Find.Another.Fucking.Job. This Katie also reported that although she has a stutter, she still chose teaching for a profession because she "had to have a major/job. . ." (Insert hopeful chuckle here) I know without scanning faces that this one gets meager grins, at best.

Deal with your Shit

Seriously. We all have issues. We've all had trauma. None of us had exactly the childhood we deserved. Those things leave scars--I am not so without compassion that I don't understand that. In fact, the people I most admire are those who take such struggles and use them for good, instead of evil.

My frustration comes when people stagnate. Stagnant water is a scummy, bug-infested mess. Turns out that stagnant people are pretty much the same as the water. To be fully aware that you have an issue negatively impacting your interactions with others and then choose to not deal with those disfunctions for years is stoopid. Stoopid enough that it requires the use of two 'o's.

My husband was crippled emotionally by his self-serving, jacked up parentals. He (and ocassionally I join him) has been seeing a psychologist for 4 years to deal with the aftermath. Four fucking years. Has he made progress? Sure. Noticeably so from his completely emotionally constipated state of yester-year. Does he journal as suggested by the psychologist? Nope. The sheer obstinance and avoidance of this topic makes me insane. Like beat my head against the wall and gnash my teeth insane. It also sometimes makes me want to run because of the sheer hopeless feeling that invades my spirit. I know he's better than the baggage strapped to his soul, but complacency is paralyzing. Complacency leaves me bored. Complacency leaves me frustrated. What swift kick in the ass is going to get him to move forward?

And that is why I want to scream, "DEAL.WITH.YOUR.SHIT." Deal with it now so that you don't have to deal with it alone as a sad old man, left in the dust because you became so entrenched in your ways that I couldn't take it anymore.

Turns out, I have no control over his shit-dealing. Time to deal with the skid marks left on me as he brushes by. . .

An Introduction

In my normal life, I am a wife & mother from suburbia, trying to be all nicey-nice. This isn't about those things. This is about my other side. The darker side. The side I rarely share unless highly agitated. Things you should know:

1. I pretty much hate my in-laws. They'll be regular topics of conversation here. And yes, I said hate. Not the "don't care for," of the nicey-nice world.

2. Most of the time I am a pretty happy person. I like people. I like my husband. This is not about those times.

3. I like curse words. I like them a lot.

4. This blog is totally hidden from my 'real life.' That means any names have been changed to protect the annoying innocent.