Tag Archives: husband

How The Hell Am I Supposed To Do THIS?!

It’s been about 4 years since the “remodel” of our house started.  It quickly became a complete tear up, or down, and has now reached the point where I can see a pinprick of light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

I am having a party on Saturday.  My daughter turned 15 this week, and well this IS her house, so finally her birthday will be here come hell or high water.  OK, I probably shouldn’t have said high water since we are having a day of monsoon like storms.

We started the clean up last week.  It started slow with me staring and blinking so hard you could probably hear it.  I then cried numerous times while picking things up in a room that we used to put EVERYTHING in.  Every time I picked something up a creepy crawly thing would appear, or some kind of gross event.  Gross enough to make me gag or just think to myself that I can’t believe this part of the house is so freaking disgusting.

I am so ashamed of myself.  I cannot believe it got to this point.  I was not raised like this and neither was my husband.  He apologized saying he was a hoarder, I apologized for just not doing anything about it.  We are both at fault here.  At least we intervened on our own, that’s the bright side.  Working together at first was really tense.  Then something really cool happened.  We started working TOGETHER!  Laughing and giggling til tears streamed down our faces.  The accomplishments at the end of each day gave us a sense of purpose and has brought us closer.

Finally true pride in my home has hit me.  I know what happened.

As a child and into adolescence I grew up pretty rough.  I would say poor at times, other times just scraping by.  My mom used to take us to the area that I live now and talk about living here someday, or we would just looked at the houses and dream.  My mom would take us down to the beach that I now look at every day and say that we could live like this if we worked hard with our minds, not our hands.

So here I am.  I have arrived.  I used to feel like this was not permanent.  I don’t know why.  I would look around and think “Take it in, because it will be taken from you.”  I have no idea why I would think like that.  It was almost like I never let this truly feel like my home.  Well damn it!  IT’S MINE! FINALLY!

My daughter deserves a house that isn’t sheet rock and plywood floors anymore.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a dump by any means, it has just been neglected in some areas while fixing the others.  FIXING, like putting it back together.

2 days to go.  Still need to pressure wash, get 7 or 8 ladders out of the living room/entry way, clean up tools such as tubs of mud and trowels.  Vacuum up the dust from sanding the walls.

Now that I have actually written this I know exactly how to do this! Image

I am truly grateful for all that I have.  I am even more grateful for throwing a lot of stuff out!  Simple is really easier.  No clutter, both in my house and mind.

This is not the hardest I have ever worked, but something was so hard about it.  Letting go of the guilt now and cleaning this shit up.  Time to knock it off and take control of my life.


My Life Is Now a Country Song..

I had to give my DOG to my mom.

First of all, I only live at home half the time now because I’m living at my sister’s.  I need to be there to take care of her house and three kids in order for Mike, her husband to complete his tandem stem cell transplants.

I see my own child every other weekend.  My house is on it’s way to being done, and I won’t be able to live in it.  My car is breaking down.

NOW I HAVE NO DOG!  I rescued her from my MOTHER’S house in the first place because her other dog was basically eating her.  Ray-la would attack Lucy out of nowhere.  SO I did what any good auntie would do and took Lucy for our own.

Lucy does not do well alone.  We rescued her from people who abused her, so she is a bit traumatized.

I wanted to have a baby.  NOPE..NOPE, now I need a hysterectomy.  No baby and no dog.  I bet my husband is REALLY HAPPY with me.

My husband cries, ACTUALLY cries when he sees Lucy’s little sweaters and her collar.  I on the other hand feel a sense of relief.  She did not do well at my sister’s, and now with Mike’s lowered immune system, she just can’t be there.

I think he is mad at me.  Giving a man’s dog away is not cool on so many levels.  I mean, sure we talked and he says he understands, but I know he is hurt.

I don’t know what to do.  We can take her on the weekends.  I just wonder if that would be harder than just letting my mom have her.  She is happy there and even the cat likes her.  Our cats try to mess with her head every chance they get.

So, now, no dog, no house, family on hold.  Not really a country song, more like I’m just whining.

Sorry.  It just hurts.

He left for work and didn’t seem happy at all.  Barely said two words to me.  Is it the dog?  Am I just being sensitive?  I am being a girl.  I AM A GIRL, and this girl has WAAAY too much on her plate.  Everything seems like a big deal.  Must be those hormones they are giving me.

I responded to a nice woman who’s NAME IS JENN WITH 2 N’S.  Do you think I put 2 N’s in her name when I responded to her???!!  NOOOO!! I saw that this morning and felt horrible.  She said it was ok, everybody does that.  I’m NOT everybody.  Some detective I am..I apologized to her this morning.  When you spell someone’s name wrong, especially when it’s STARING YOU IN THE FACE, it feels bad for the person.  Like they aren’t important.

Well, Jenn, you are important.  I was just to ADD and busy trying to help.  Some help..huh?

Take Care All.  Guess I’m at the end of my rope..


Here’s my saint of a husband and Lucy..he called her his “Puppin.”  I feel like I’m going straight to ..well, you know.


Who’s BRAD?

I’m a stay at home mom.  I’m a wife and mother, and I do what all stay at home mom’s do.  We go shopping, we take care of the kids, the house, all package deliveries, car issues, garbage day, and other things where we come into contact with people on a daily basis.

One day, I’m talking to my husband about an issue with our sewer system.  The city utility department had come out and sucked everything out of a drain  or something and after they were done I didn’t have any water in all three of our toilets.  There was a really bad smell from gasses escaping. 

I said, “I was talking with Brad, from the city..”, my husband cuts me off RIGHT THERE..”Who is BRAD, and why do you know his name?”  I sigh, and look at him, wondering how he breathes on his own, and said “It was on his NAME TAG”.  So I proceeded to tell him that BRAD had let me know that next time they do whatever it is they were doing, they wouldn’t suck out so much..stuff.

I asked my husband why it bothered him. He said, he didn’t understand how I knew the names of my grocery checkers, my deli lady and my quickie mart guy where I get my coffee EVERY morning for two years.  He said he has no clue what the names of people are, and why do I know?

I had to explain that as the household contact while he is at work all day, one comes to know there neighbors and the people they come into contact with daily or weekly.  I read the name tags.  He just couldn’t get it.

These are the people who help me take care of my family on a daily basis.  Teachers, mailmen, garbagemen (or women) don’t forget my cop friends I used to work with when I was a detective.  HHMMM could it be the detective in me?  Who knows, I just know I know their names and they matter.

Yeah, I had Brad ran..he’s clean. JUST KIDDING!! 

I had them run someone else..you just never know..can’t be too safe..KIDDING!