a promise

If I lost my life tomorrow, and went to that other place

I would come to you in your dreams

With mouth close to your ear and soul

Whisper an assurance that I am well

And that I loved you more than words

true story

I was awakened Monday morning by my newly minted five year old with a message:

L: whispered urgency "Moooom!"

Me: groggy panic "Whas goin' on?? Huh? Wha?"

L: more whispered urgency "My toof fell out!"

Me: "No it didn't sweetie. You don't have any loose teeth yet."

L: "Yes it did! Look! It fell out on my pillow!" Holding up a tooth.

Me: peering closely at baby tooth with dried blood at the root. Thinking she may have knocked her tooth out "L, let me look in your mouth."

L: mouth clamps shut "Hmmm mmm." shaking head no.

Me: "L, I need to see your mouth. Let me look."

L: holding dried incisor in chubby hand with mouth half closed "It was my back toof."

Me: "L, that's a front tooth you're holding. Did you steal your sister's tooth out of her Tooth Fairy box?"

L: "Hunh uh. Nope. It's my toof. It fell out and now I need to put it in the box so that I can get money."

Me: "Good try L, but the Tooth Fairy doesn't double dip. She's already cashed in on that tooth when it fell out of your sister's head."

L: "No! It's my toof! It fell on my pillow and now I'm going to get money for it."

Me: "Nice try babe, but it's not happening."

Steve, Gabi, Lou, and Shay

Well looky here. My blogalicious friend Mama Zen bestowed this little darling on me. It's a Super Comments Award. Cuz, you know, I comment and stuff. A lot. Can't help myself really. For someone who has precious little to say in real life, I can't seem to pass a blog without putting in my daily howdy do. So thank you, Mama Zen.
And I will pass this on to Steve E., Gabriella Moonlight , Lou, and Fireblossom.

y'all want to see my new toy?

Isn't she gorgeous? Now if Toyota would just give me one of these, I would be set.

letting go

Last night I made the decision to let go. While the husband has been traveling on business, I have been left to juggle the issue of childcare in the event that I need to work. My job is like that. As a licensed massage therapist, I only work when there are clients on the books. And thus, when I don't work, I don't get paid. This has been the third week in a row that I have not had people scheduled on my Thursday evening shift. There is a very good chance that there won't be anybody on the books tonight. Tomorrow is filled, but I can't pay the bills with five clients. This financial seesaw has been going on for years. While on the phone last night with the un-needed sitter and fellow AA member, I said it out loud.

I need to find another job.

And as much as it hurts, I will probably have to find work in another field. It has been 10 years since I have had my evenings free and weekends off. I'm ready for a Monday thru Friday/9 to 5. With benefits. I have a college degree. I have work experience from my pre-massage career days. I am ready.

I am letting go.

orange

Have you ever had one of those days where everything you eat is the same color?

oranges

salmon

carrots

cheetos

doritos

cheddar cheese

sweet potatos

orange juice

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

in defense of the blog

A few words for the odd meeting goer (or two or three) who looks down his nose at online recovery:

Glad to see that you have stayed around long enough to have enough friends in the rooms so that when the meeting leader plays tag, you are always picked to share. Many newcomers are too intimidated or scared to share their "burning desire." They haven't been coming around long enough to be recognized by Old George or Sober Jim. You know, the good old boys that lead the meetings and seem to feel that its perfectly OK to do a mini lead each and every week; regardless of how many times we've heard it. Blogging allows the newcomer to hash some things out. Get the feelings out of the head and the heart and possibly make a connection or two that the brick and mortar meeting just can't provide.

Blogging gives the addict the opportunity to connect with others at any hour and for however long they desire. Personally, I have spent hours online reading people's stories and the comments that follow. I feel like I have gotten to know you. Through my posts, perhaps you have become acquainted with me. We are in each other's lives. We have a relationship. I would love to meet many of you.

I love my real life meetings. But when the meeting is over and I can't meet up for coffee because I have to go home to my kids and laundry and dinner prep and homework and bathtime and bedtime, I sit down at my computer and carry on with the online recovery movement well into the night. I have people I can call and meet with in real life, and I have you all, too. I don't see anything wrong with that.

Thank you for letting me share.

lessons learned

or why Joe Holland can go suck it:

...for leaving me without transportation for 12 hours while they performed an air conditioning diagnostic and state inspection on my van.

...for telling me on the phone that my air conditioning system did not show any leakage but that "freon doesn't just evaporate on it's own, so let's wait and see."

...for lying to me about the air conditioning because when I picked up the van 12 hours later (after the shop was closed) the paperwork on the front seat stated that there was a leaking condenser.

...for failing me on my state inspection, stating that my front wheel bearings were bad and that one tire was "bad." Didn't say which tire, just one tire. Must have been Mechanic's Choice day at the Chevy Dealership. "Let's see folks, which tire shall we pick...let's spin the wheel and see which poor car owner wins today!"

...for quoting me $800 for the front wheel bearings alone, but that "all four tires are bald (bulls**t) and they should really all be replaced."

...for sticking a rejection sticker on my 2002 minivan and making me drive all over town looking like a freaking leper because there are cars that should be salvaged driving around and they all have inspection stickers on them.

Big fat hugs and kisses to Deno Stanley of Village Auto on the East End for fixing my car and passing my inspection in under three hours and for $430. You will receive all my future business and I will be referring all my friends and clients to you.

best post of the week

I'm not sure if there are awards out there for Best Post of the Week, but if there were, this one would win. Congratulations, Syd.

back no more

Slightly over 8 1/2 years ago I sat in my car in the back alley of my boyfriend's rented duplex pondering my fate. I have written of this before. About the reckoning. My jumping off point. It was the morning after what was to be my last drunk and my final bottom. As I sat in my car in that back alley, looking at the backyard and the back door, I felt my past come rushing up to hit me. My past. My back story. Lots of back pedaling in an attempt to come to terms with how I had gotten to this point. 30 years old and a drunk. Many failed attempts at getting sober only to go back out. Back back back back.

As I sit here sober, 8 1/2 years later, I realize that with my drinking I was always trying to recapture something that was no longer. Going "back" to recapture that first high, first buzz, first love, first rush. It takes some of us longer than others to realize that you can't go back. Memories are great, as long as they remain memories. Once we try to recapture some experience of the past, it typically becomes some bastardized version of the original. Such is the problem with the alcoholic chasing the drink. The 152,000 drink is never as intoxicating as the first one was.

As I sat in the car pondering all of this, I realized that I had lots of attempts to go back under my belt, but no attempts to go forward. No real plans for the future. Nothing creative occupied my mind. My mind was completely wrapped around the past. Past resentments, pasts drunks, past slights, past behaviors. Past past past. Back back back. And with this realization I had my moment of clarity. Never before had I ever known with such conviction what I wanted out of life. In those blessed minutes I realized that I wanted to be a wife and I wanted to be a mother. And for me, neither one of those goals were attainable unless I quit drinking. And yes, I wanted to be sober, too. Within minutes, I had a future that didn't involve chasing the drink.

Nine months later I was to realize those dreams. At nine months sober, I was to be married in July of 2001 and pregnant two weeks later. My baby J was to be born in April of 2002 and I remember whispering in her newborn ear that she had saved my life. She was the flesh and blood realization of a dream that I'd had in the midst of my despair. One alcoholic's desperate wish for a life unimaginable.

For me this Mother's Day, like all Mother's Days up until now, is not about toasters or necklaces, Cuisinarts or breakfast in bed. It is about a gift that I was given based on my own wise choices. Every day that I look in my children's faces I am reminded of what I have accomplished. They are my motivation to stay sober and to be present in their lives. My oldest child is now seven years old, but when I grab her close to me and whisper in her ear, "You saved my life," her eyes well up with tears and she hugs me tight.

Call me crazy, but I think she understands.

to africa and back

I have added a new blog to my sidebar. I know how many of you appreciate a finely crafted word, and this gal has that gift. Whether it's her tales of midwifery in Africa or navigating the ins and outs of life back home in San Diego, Kacie has the ability to make you feel like you're right in the middle of the story. She is not a recovery blog. She's just a really good writer. Drop by to say hi.

stuck

I don't like two of my daughters' friends. I know why I don't like them. I just wish I could stop not liking them. I want to like them. But I can't right now. I am being judgemental and petty and sometimes I'm mean. I don't like myself when I feel like this.

The two friends are sisters close to my daughters' age and are currently residing two houses down from us. It isn't their home, and that's part of the problem. The house is a government subsidized social service agency owned home that houses disabled residents. The girls' grandfather lives there and they have been camping out for approximately five months due to their parents' unemployment. It is my guess that the social service agency doesn't know that they are living there.

The parents aren't making an effort to look for work. They hang out all day and pretty much all night at the house, save for the odd trip or two to run errands or pick the kids up from school. The parents are young (late 20's) and have possession of all their limbs and faculties. For whatever reason they aren't working is unknown to me. They could easily be working retail or fast food jobs if they were pushed to find work. But they don't. I have had it pointed out to me that my problem with them might be the learned helplessness that they are displaying. I think that might be right.

The kids are incorrigible and sometimes mean to my girls. It seems as though someone is always getting hurt whenever they all play together. It is typically at the hands of the older girl. She doesn't listen to direction and is sometimes rough with my daughters. I'm tired of running interference on their activities and would love nothing more than to have them all disappear so that I don't have to deal with this dynamic.

The problem is that both sets of kids like to play outside when the weather is nice and it's impossible to avoid these two kids in that their grandfather's house is next door to our rental house that we are renovating. Both sets of kids will play on the porch while we are working on the house. Over the past few weeks the dad has been working for my husband doing painting on the house and I believe that he feels like he might be a contender for the property when it goes up for rent. Not likely. No income + no references = no rental. Also, my husband has been on the receiving end of the dad's tales of trouble while they work together at the house. My husband has mentioned that based on this guy's game plan for life: he's doomed.

The kids' behaviour has already gotten us into trouble with the neighbor in between our houses. The older girl is an instigator and will go on to this woman's property and cause trouble (spraying her backyard property with a can of 409, removing yard items, trespassing..) Instead of going to the girl's parents, the neighbor went ballistic on my husband. No matter how many times I tell this kid to stop what she's doing, she does it anyway. An ever increasing problem is how she and her sister turn our rental property into a dumping ground of discarded toys and trash. I can't go a calendar day without having to go down to the property to clean it up. No matter how many times I tell them to stop leaving trash on the porch or yard...they do it anyway.

I am trying to get to the root of why I don't like the kids. It isn't an income issue. The majority of the kids at my daughters school are impoverished or living in foster care. I don't have a problem with those friendships. There is just something about them that gets under my skin. I sometimes think that this family is in my life for a reason and that I need to demonstrate more compassion and understanding. Other times I think that it's some sort of karma being played out. I have tried explaining to my kids that the behavior that is displayed by these two girls is not admirable and that they need to be mindful of how much power they give them. Over the last couple of weeks I have made it a point to keep the kids separated from each other. But as the weather continues to warm, that will become more difficult.

I feel mean and hateful in that most mornings I wake up wishing that they would have all moved away during the night. But regardless of how I feel about them, my kids like the two girls immensely. Even with the property destruction and acting out, they still like them. I wish I could.

it's the dog's fault

I am nursing a mean ass resentment toward my dog. My 80 lb. German Shepherd fights me every freaking time I attempt to give her a bath and yesterday I severely sprained my back in my attempt to wrestle her stinky butt into the bathtub. The yardstick by which I gauge pain is childbirth and I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that my back hurts worse than birthing both of my kids. Yeah. That bad. It's probably karma for talking smack about the cocktail playdates. I know how the universe works.

I can't sit

I can't drive

I can't bend over or

twist side to side

it hurts to sleep

it even hurts to breathe or laugh

but I'm not laughing much right now, so I'm good.

I'm not one to blog about my aches and pains. I tend to believe that we become what we think about the most. Consciousness creates form. But OH MY GAWD IT HURTS!!!!

I'm going back to bed.

are you kidding me?

I have a really big problem with parents who drive their children around after they have been drinking. It really irritates me when mothers have playdates that involve cocktails for the adults. The double standard in these scenarios is astonishing. No mother or father in their right mind would allow a babysitter or daycare provider to engage in these behaviors.

This will be the post where I get the angry backlash from entitled mothers across America lambasting me for an attack on what they believe is their right. This isn't about rights. It's about the double standard.