Short of throwing 2 of the 4 pillows on my bed at the back of my sudd-muffins head, I instead just blurted out, "You have earned 3 minutes of uninterrupted face time - with me." Inside, my eyes were closed tight and I was saying, please do it, please do it baby.
Him: "Three minutes? Three minutes??"
Me: Yes
Sudd-muffin: Ok.
He did it. He put down the controller. I got my android phone and set my stopwatch app for 3 minutes. Laid down on the bed we both did. Face to face we lay and commenced to stare at each other intently. For 3 minutes.
The laughter bubbled up and out of me at the ridiculousness of this spur of the moment exercise. We stared. He made comments about the gray spots I have on my eyes. I made comments about his nose and his wonderfully cleft chin.
We were studying each other so intently that I didn't here the stopwatch go off.
I snatched up my phone thinking that stupid app didn't work. It did. The minutes passed so quickly that they were over before we knew it. We went in for another 3 minutes.
This time we were silent. It was different. I liked it. He was actually looking at me. He was seeing me.
You may think I am crazy and no way this married couple actually did this. Ha - oh yes the heck we did. I love my hubby. I want our marriage to go the distance. If that means coming up with dumb 3 minute exercises - then so be it.
That 6 minutes was the longest time he has spent looking at my face since we stood at the alter.
I thought this was gone - but for some reason, it just popped right back up!
I don't like talking about my personal life, too much. Especially my marriage. But if there is something that I am going through that someone else may be experiencing, then it may be worth it.
At this stage in my marriage, I am experiencing some MOL tension. We have moved to Mississippi. I broke down and agreed. The MOL is down here to help my sudd-muffins aunt. That is another story though. We moved into our apartment - a 3 bedroom and the MOL has laid claim to our extra bedroom.
Don't get me wrong. My MOL is WONDERFUL. GREAT. She has helped out so much - *cluck. But sometimes, it's like, my sudd-muffin likes being around her more than me, his wife. She can ask him to go to the store and he jumps right up, like sure, Mom, when do you want to leave?
Or, Son, can you iron this for me or what do you want for dinner?
Now if I ask him to go to the store, it is more of a, "God, I don't feel like doing anything right now..." If he is going to the store, I say, "Can I come with?" - like a hopeful little, starved puppy - I just want to spend time with him - His response, "No, I just want to go and come back." But let his mom say, oh, can I come with you? SURE MOM, lets go!
All of my requests are met with deep manly sighs and exasperated shoulder heaving. What did I do? You married me. We have had two miscarriages. I have put up with your crap for 5 years. I have stood by you and your crap for five years. Sat and watched you waste hours in front of the Xbox and choked back complaints of laziness.
Is my company that bad? Am I really that uninteresting to just spend time around. Or are men just really that selfish?
I see why marriages don't last - LAZINESS. People don't want to work on the marriage but just have sex. But even that takes work. I mean, when I think about it, the sex is the highlight of the marriage - it's never bad.....ever. Dang. That's.....weird. Hmmm....but I don't care about sex. Well I don't care about it when I am not caring about it. Get it?
This is making me crazy. I know I shouldn't compare what my husband does for his mother but any wife would expect her husband do even the little things. Is that really too much to ask? Do I really sign like a whiny, nagging wife right now?
Original blog post gone. So irritated right now. Don't feel like writing. So here we go.
Marriage. MOL. No Wife Attention. More MOL attention. Exasperated. Pissed. Lonely. MOL need to leave. She's great but need to leave. Spend time with me. That Xbox get's more action than our bed. Sucketh. You. Do. Arggggg.
WANTED: Girlfriends in the Gulfcoast area. Age 27 and up. Gossip and trash talk included. Must pray, you know for all the trash talking - we have to repent. Must be married or have been married. Single women wont help me. They will just make me envy them. Must love food, movies, travel. I want to travel. Let's travel. I may run away.
I am a manipulator. You have to be when you get married. Manipulation is not all bad. There is good manipulation, selfish manipulation, sexual manipulation, financial manipulation - all kinds. I am a master manipulator. I thought I was rather good at it until I met my husband. No, I am not talking about the bad manipulation to get people to do what you want but the little wife tricks to draw the husband in - the harmless manipulation.
He is the king of manipulation reversal. He doesn't care if we spend time together. He doesn't care if I happen to appreciate how another man looks. He doesn't care if I leave for hours without a call. Doesn't really matter. Nothing really matters except Wrestling, MMA and Xbox - the 3 Kings. He also doesn't hang around Jealousy avenue. I take that back.
He got jealous. Once. He met the man I was dating right before we met. Shawn. Shawn had big muscles and was well groomed. Shawn was a cutie pie. The sudd-muffin didn't like Shawn. Oh boy he was soooo jealous. It was exciting.
I believe he likes when I leave in one of my fits of anger. He has free time to do what he wants without me, the wife, asking for his attention. It's a win-win situation for him. If I say I am going out, there is no response. I can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, calculating how much lazy time he will have to play video games and just bum it. Ha! And I thought I was really getting his goat. Wrong. He got mine and milked that sucker dry.
So day after day, I send the signals and put out the layers of my marriage strudel, hoping he will bite. Layers stretched so thin you can almost see through em'.
He hates pie and tarts anyway so what was I expecting. He told me about a week ago he wasn't happy but he didn't want to be here, in Mississippi, without me.
I think he is lying. He has everything he needs here. His family, old friends, old territory, old memories. I don't really add anything to the mix. It's like once I finally agreed to move to Mississippi, all the promises and expectations stayed in Texas - along with my $1k camera.
It was all just talk.
My strudel is stuffed. I cook for him. He says, hey thanks. I fill my marriage with understanding. I stuff it with tiny steps of patience.
I ignore being ignored or being passed over for the Xbox. I even ask if I can play too. Nothing ever comes of that. I pray. Not for him but one of those, Lord change me prayers. Help me to understand that yes, I am being a bitch - excuse me, Lord forgive me.
Help me to understand that no, my husband has no idea what the word cherish means unless we are talking about his Star Wars memorabilia. Help me to understand me.
I have gotten over the sexy women on TV. I don't care how they look or if he is looking. Doesn't really matter to me anymore. I don't even care if he is looking at porn on the internet anymore. He can deal with that devil. I could give a pigs trough what I look like either. It's not like he actually sees me anyway. Not really. I am invisible. Everything is invisible.
My marriage strudel still sits here. Untouched. Festering. Rotting. Waiting for me to toss it out for the day and start anew tomorrow.
Boy I've been fighting that word all of my life. Sometimes I can't get out of my own way and live the life I know God wants for me. It's like I have these invisible weights on my feet and on my mind...dragging my feet behind me...whispering thoughts of negativity - you can't do it, you're getting old, what about your asthma, who's gonna take care of your daughter while you do it and the big one - WHERE YA GONNA GET THE MONEY TO TRAIN??? GOD - IF TEARS WERE DOLLARS I WOULD BE A BILLIONAIRE 3 TIMES OVER. Fact. I don't know how I'm going to do it. Fact. I KNOW I have to do it. Fact. Why am I here if not to just do it?
I promised my mom once. When she was in jail of all places....I wrote her a letter. One of those angst filled letters of missing someone too much and struggling with "becoming" - I think I had to be like 14 or something. I promised her something. And I have reneged on that promise far too long.
Flash forward - I remember laying in my aunts guest bed. Moon shining down on me through the window in Long Beach, CA. I had just left Phoenix behind to let it and the people there go to hell on their own. I remember. I said Lord, please bring my mom home and stop her from using drugs. I begged him to help me. I begged him and apologized for the things I had done at age 14 - 16. I begged him. Then my grandfather died. And God continued to silently wait on me.
16 years later - here I am. God is still waiting. We've had lots of fights. I've been a sometimey friend. He's chastised me. Broken me. Reminded me. Provoked me. tapped me on my shoulder a couple of times. Pushed me to the back seat. I promptly and pridefully put him in the trunk, jumped in the drivers seat and gunned it. He slowed my getaway with painful awakenings. It's time to wake up. I ran out of gas more times then I approve of. He didn't care. It was my fault anyway. I needed a major tune up - He was there. My wheels went flat but He was my run flat tire. I lost control MANY times, crashed and burned. He paid the deductible and fixed me. Even when I was a total loss.
I still had value, so he never left me.
My aunt passed away last week. She was young. She was sick. She was a mother & grandmother. She loved God. He loved her more. She is gone. She didn't take care of herself until it was too late. I don't want that to be me. I don't want to leave this earth where the only thing I leave behind is this blog which doesnt really tell you who I am.
Mediocre. Word origin - French. Meaning middling height or state. Also related to the word Medial - pertaining to a mean or average. With a name like mine - there is NO WAY God made me to be Average. I think not. I have made me average. Blending in to the backgroud. Voice silent. No more. I am done.
It's time to wake up. So I will take my left leg with 1 plate and 9 screws in it. I will take my 4 miscarriages. I will take my mistakes - 2 abortions and some unsavory goings on in the dark - smirk. I will take what the media has said is beautiful and toss that in the trash. I will take the fact that Asthma plaques my body. I will take the fact that I am overweight. I will take the fact that yes my husband had an affair 2 years ago and I stayed - I love him and he has shown me he loves me. I will take the fact that I've had a 21 year long affair with mediocrity. I will take the fact that my father has been absent all of my life. I will take the fact that my mom was absent for the years that mattered. I will take the fact that I am mean sometimes because of these things. I allow them to fester within and manifest itself in my behavior.
What I will not take is another 21 years of it. So I will take all of those things. Remember them. Use those things to fuel my mediocrity into Greatness. I will take those things. They will no longer take me. It's time to wake up.
Wife thinks, yay, leftovers!!! Stomps to fridge after long day of work, looks for said leftovers - Orange Chicken to be exact - shuffles numerous bowls around in fridge......NO LEFTOVERS - The sudd muffin struck again. cut to M.T.A next (marriage texting argument)
Me: Did you eat ALL the orange chicken??
Sudd-Muffin: There wasn't very much left. Hey you know you cute right? Me: **anger fizzles like a wet firecracker** You had me at cute. blows Android Kiss via text
Slowly drifts away in lal-la land and pours a bowl of cereal instead.
Toilet seat down but no toilet paper cause it's STILL sitting in the hallway where he left it.
Dishes in the dishrack (because, yay, he washed them) but more dishes in BOTH sides of the sink because he used those before he left and I (wifey) am the unpaid maid.
Those sheets don't smell like butt crack and armpits for nothing. I WASH THEM.
Two corners of our room have been knighted as a closet. Shoes, socks & clothes trail the room leading to the "closets". I clean the closets out 4 times a week.
I bought laundry baskets so I wouldn't have to clean out the closets 4 times a week. They are empty. And dusty.
Our master bathroom has an alter ego by the name of "kitchen". The dishes that were left in both sides of the sink, that the maid washes, came from the kitchen in the master bathroom.
The other day I found a journal I bought the summer after I graduated from high school (1999). It is a Wonder Woman Journal. I bought it from Walgreens I think in Los Angeles. I found a lot of poetry I wrote in it, songs from my friends I met at Shakespeare Festival LA/Will Power to Youth that year, letters from them, drawings, the angst of a young girl trying to find herself, falling in love, fighting in love & losing in love over the span of 6 years.
It wasn't pretty. It was downright butt ugly. God I was a love sick dog with like 3 legs, limping down the road of despair. I was stupid. I allowed myself to be insanely jealous, dumb & weak. I allowed myself to be abused. He was horrible. He didn't love me. He didn't even care. To think I cheated on my high school loser boyfriend to get with another loser whom I thought was my "moon and stars" as the Khaleesi would say. He wasn't. But he gave me the sun which I am most thankful for.
I went through 4 boyfriends in that journal - FOUR - as well as like 5 years of college in that one journal AND I found an entry where I had a miscarriage in February 2000. I had forgotten. It red ink spread all over the page around the picture of Wonder Woman in the jaws of some type of Jurassic monster with lots of teeth.
WOW. Seeing that was like a shot to the chest. I cant believe I had forgotten. I cant believe my mind was so messed up back then & still is. The pain and confusion in my writing was so heavy. But the thing that really threw me for a loop was that it was the same ole same ole issues. Low self esteem, indecision, self-hate - self pity. Those same things that I struggle with now as a wife & mother. Over 10 years later. Same old crap. Sd how do I deal? How to I leave these emotional wounds behind & finally get to the point of scabs & then finally scars?
I was watching Joyce Meyers message on emotional healing. She pointed out that self-pity is the same as idolotry. How right she is. I've read countless times in the bible & on blogs, the best medicine to heal your sorrow is to help someone else; focus on someone elses issues because there is always another person in a predicament worse than you. God I hope that's true. It has to be or everything I have been through has been for nothing. I will be damned before I let that happen.
And the beat goes on. I found another one last night. Another remnant of one humans weakness. It lodged in the back of my throat and slowly made it's trek down, slashing jagged holes in my esophagus as it went - allowing all the air to escape from my lungs. I couldn't breath. Again.
God I am so embarrassed to even talk about this. I want to talk about it but then I would be exposing the darkest, saddest place of my marriage to people I know and don't know. I have to believe I am not the only one. In fact, I KNOW I am not the only one. But dang. Shoot! Crap. The forks are still missing by the way.
I don't think I can do it.
What I can say is, I hate it. The knowing. The feeling that I am may be reliving 2009 and my Waiting to Exhale - Angela Bassett moment. God - it hurts. I don't know what it is with him. I think I am an AWESOME wife. I bust my butt. I support 100%. I am the most understanding woman you wanna get into an argument with.......oh God - their back.
Low Self Esteem and Self-pity just barged right on in through that open door. Ok, this is me shooing them right back out or did they not get the memo?
I am home by myself today. I worked for a while. I washed my hair and slicked it back into a puff ball pony. I'm still going bald but not willing to shear everything off again. I feel good though without my hat. Now I sit here about to shove some pizza down the pie hole and.....do what? yeah. I thought so.
I had to sit down on my break and blog. Oh my goodness. I cant breathe. Wait....hold....on.....there it is. Breath. My sudd-muffin. My suff-muffin. He died. I cannot believe it. My prayers have been answered. He died to the old Garrett and was reborn the New Sudd Muffin.
***Dream sequences goes here*** The first time I write a check at any grocery store - WALMART - it bounced. Not because we didn't have the money but because Chase picks and chooses when they want things to post. Devils they are. I was pissed. It irritated me. I knew I shouldn't have wrote that check but noooooooo, I never bring my debit card with me because I don't want to spend money.
Anyway, here is the sudd-muffin, cute as can be, not arguing, not fussing or cussing at the fact that we are broke and bank account overdrawn. God is still good.
He tells me, don't worry about it. We will have money, give me a coffee kiss. WHAT??? I took 2 steps back and asked him, "Where is my husband and what have you done with him?" His response: I'm not going to worry about what we don't have.
I was shocked and at a loss for words. These were MY WORDS VERBATIM. Upchucked from some crevice of his mind where he stores stuff that he actually takes in from me. I couldn't believe he actually said that. Are we making progress??? Baby steps...baby steps
The dishes were still there. Uggggggghhhhhhh!! Not only were they still there - they were piled up in the sink. Que-eva. Now on to the rest of my day and the food portion of my powdered mustard seed plan (I said I would cook more).
I made breakfast for everyone - including the sudd-muffin. Didnt say nothing about the dishes and just did them myself. So much easier. I even made the sudd-muffins lunch and I was actually happy about it. Maybe we have been having so many issues being married because I wasnt participating in the marriage. Doing these things actually made me feel good about being "wifely" - go figure.
Lunch! I made lunch for the baby girl. I had a couple of scientists really interested in the contents of my refrigerator - particularly interested in some cherry tomatoes, cucumber and a mango. I had to get rid of them so, SALAD it was along with breaded chicken patty sandwiches and orange slices.
Ingredients 1 old cucumber Some old cherry tomatoes (pick out the bad ones) 1 mango (or any fruit you have on hand, preferably something like pineapple) Cut up the veggies in small pieces and toss them in a bowl.
Eyeball the following ingredients
salt
pepper
lemon juice
sugar
balsamic vinegar
olive oil
Whisk together all the ingredients, taste, add more sugar and pour over veggies/mango and toss. Voila! I had a pretty picture of the actual food that was plated but........as I went to put some ketchup on my sandwich, it squirted out all over my sandwich, salad and orange slices......so. Yeah. That's all I got there.
Moving on to my health portion - I was tired. Really tired but I made myself get up and take my daughter for a walk down our little neighborhood path to the man-made lake. We brought old sourdough bread for the duckies (I really must clean out my fridge and pantry more often). It was a gorgeous day today and there were a lot of kids out. It's funny how a little old bread can bring both kid and ducks flocking.
For dinner I cooked baked tilapia with garlic butter sauce, rice pilaf and broccoli.
Annnnnddddd - CAKE!!!
Me and the sudd-muffin spoke. He grabbed me real quick for a kiss and a hug.....didn't know what to think of that so I just went with it. I think my plan may be working....so thank you lord for Day 2 of the rest of my life.
I got this inkling or ephipany in regards to powdered mustard seed after reading a good mommas Secret Mommy-hood Saturday Confession entry about her struggle with God and being angry at him. I understood all too well the confusion and anger. I don’t want to be confused and angry anymore. Having faith of a mustard seed is hard work. Even for such a tiny amount as a mustard seed.
Lately I have felt like all I have is mustard seed powder that has been slowly blowing away in the wind with every trial and tribulation I have had these last 2 years. But thank God for Kim. I am gathering up my mustard seed powder and trying to season up my faith, life, marriage, mommyhood, outlook and spirit with it.
So this is how my PMS plan (wait, PMS? that's just great - not intentional at all) for day one panned out....
Wee hours of 02-26-11 Driving home from the hospital, I get to house, sudd-muffin leaves me sitting in the car. mind you - its 1230am and DUH - I just got out of the hospital and feel like stir-fried crap. I went straight to the shower and fought hard not to cry.
I'm not gonna cry. It hurts. You might have to just walk away from this NayLahKnee. You and babygirl will be fine. What reason do I have to stay anyway???? Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Darn it - *sticks face under shower spray*
We argued when I got out of the shower. Same nag diary, different day. I told him I wasn't sure if I still wanted to be married to him. He left to sleep downstairs on the couch. Felt like an ass afterwards. He got up in the morning. Got ready for work. Told me in so many words he was leaving and left.
I prayed real hard that morning. I didn’t know what else to do. Lord, if this marriage is to be then, show me what to do. Matter fact, I'm not going to do anything unless it comes from you. NO bickering, no nagging, no anger - nothing. So I got up. Cleaned up cause the house was a mess. I'm not nagging. It just was. Made my babygirl and I breakfast. Washed the dishes and almost fell out from exertion.
3 hrs later: Txt from Sudd-Muffin: how are u? Me: I’m good. I didn’t get to say goodbye to you this morning so I hope you are having a good day. (that’s right, kill'em with kindness *smirk*) Sudd-Muffin: You too Me: I am making Tilapia for dinner. Would you like yours fried or Cajun style? Sudd-muffin: I’m havin chili dogs Sudd-muffin: I never got my chili dogs Me: ok. we can have chili dogs then and I will cook tilapia tomorrow. Sudd-muffin: There is a box of rice pilaf in the very back of the cabinet behind some stuff if you want Sudd-Muffin: We got potatoes? Me: I dunno. I have to look {one hour later} Sudd-Muffin: Potato? Sudd-Muffin: Do I need to go to the store after work? for chips or fries or something.. Sudd-Muffin: Oh yeah, DONT TOUCH my cookies Me: You can get chips or fries. Whatever u want Me: WHAT COOKIES?????? Sudd-Muffin: Don’t worry about MY cookies {so random}Sudd-Muffin: Do we have potatoes? Me: Yes. For what? {I never looked} Sudd-Muffin: Fries
That was it. No sorry for last night or I love you or take it easy I will cook when I get home - nothing. I'm not nagging.
Sudd-muffin arrives at 530pm and crashes on the couch. Dead sleep. I start taking out dinner fixins quietly. I make everyone’s plate. We all trudge upstairs and eat dinner in front of the TV watching DVR'd Nikita and Vampire diaries. Sudd-muffin says thanks and leaves the room. I gather up plates and go downstairs. Sudd-muffin is on the PC playing MMA Wars on facebook. I see Red. Red sees me and sticks his tongue out - there goes some more powdered mustard seed in the wind.
Tears well up in my chest. I plug them up with a dirty old snotty tissue and put all the dishes in the sink and quietly go back upstairs to bed. He'll wash the dishes.....
Being in the hospital is not a pretty sight. I don't wear a lot of makeup so the only thing in my purse was some cherry chapstick - yikes! Work with ya got. Cherry chapstick does provide SOME color.
Although one of my 5 things to do before you go to the ER was to bring a hat or a wig, I brought a sleek wig with me (which works for me because I'm going bald). It was the only one I had that didn't look like the bushes in my front yard.
Unfortunately, wigs if I wear them too long give me a headache and with the many visitors & voyeurs alike, the buckwheat look wasn't my first choice -even if he is a distant cousin.
So I sent the sudd-muffin to buy me a scarf from the gift shop. He brought back a beautiful purple and black rectangle scarf. I tied that baby around my head so quick and Voilà , instant headdress.
Now for my clothing. Can't really do much with my hospital gown but they have one thing going for them: snap buttons down each sleeve. I unsnapped the button closest to my neck and bingo bango - an off the shoulder look!
I'm working it right? Well that's all I could do with what I had - tell me what ya think! Is this utterly PA-THE-TIC???? SMH...
So, I had to come back to the ER on 2/22 because I started having breathing problems. Doctor thought it would be best since I just had a Myomectomy (fibroid removal) on 2/17.
Here is the Run down Nag Diary style:
They sent me right back to an ER holding room where THREE, count em THREE male techs/nurses came to assist me.
They were good looking.
I had to take my shirt and bra off IN FRONT of said good looking men with my cute hubby helping me behind a hospital "t-shirt".
So the girls came happily bounding out with an unfolding flop - ahhh they're free - to my chagrin. The ekg tech commences to fit me with sensors all over the arms and Mona & Lisa. He has to actually lift and move.
I can just hear it if this was like that Movie The Invention of Lying.....
Tech: man this ladies boobs are HUGE!! Whoa! I hope your husband isn't mad (he was)
Nurse: I know & all I get to do is put on her wrist bracelet and hold the hospital gown up...damn!
Other..Nurse: I GET TO ACT LIKE IM NOT WATCHING!! Me: if I lift Mona & Lisa up for you, there will be a full on view of my nipples.....so eh-neh - ain't gonna happen. {Groans inwardly and suffers in silence} Sudd-muffin: That mutha@!#/! Man what the heck are you doing? Really??? Really NayLahKnee??
I couldn't look. The sudd-muffin was beet red from embarrassment and envy cause we are on married couples tango hiatus due to the surgery and the beef armed tech managed to keep a straight face whilst visiting MCA ER room 18s' booby bar where "fondling is for the free".
It was all really funny in hindsight and that was just the first hour and a half.
For those of you that don't know, I LOVE HOSPITAL FOOD! Seriously. Don't roll your eyes or twist your mouth up in a mock "ewwwww". I have my reasons. Here are they are:
They feed you three times a day
The meals are dietarily correct meaning the meals are square!
YOU don't have to cook it.
If you pay attention, you get FREE lessons on portion control, what it "looks" like AND food pairings.
If you eat hospital food day after day (depending on time spent in hospital) you start to notice you actually are FULL and have no cravings.
Unless of course they have you on steroids. For asthma. Like me.
I'm a comment junkie and I WAS in the hospital. I'm playing on your sympathies, so leave a comment.
I need time to think about my life, my health, my heart, my marriage and how they all tie into my blog.....if anyone has any recommendations for folks who can revamp my blog let me know. I dont have a lot of money but this is pseudo important to me.
Nothing really special to blog about today. Still in recovery. Still sore. Still semi-lost with what I want to do with the rest of my life. Sometimes I feel like I'm going in circles.
Time Warner Cable showed up at my house, unannounced - courtesy of my job. Moving one step closer to working at home. I have a desk in my office but I want a bigger desk so I have been perusing craigslist.com for desk. I think I found one but this person keeps giving me the runaround so may have to start looking again.
My baby girl is growing so fast! We need more time in the day. I really wish they had a kids kickball league in this area. I would love to get her involved in kickball. I loved kickball growing up and it seems these days, kids cant do anything at school anymore or it gets hocked up to bullying, meanness or reducing kids down to mediocrity. That's evident in school field day events where EVERYONE gets a ribbon.
What a crock of hooey!
Where is the competitive edge? Everything has gone down the drain because the kids that were picked last in elementary school have grown up to become psychologists and relate to everyone that these games/events are no good for our children. So now we have a generation of whining, mediocre, underachievers who always win something. Maybe I'm being too harsh but I always believed if you have a Gym Teacher who doesn't allow these things to happen in class, it eliminates the problems.
I remember going to school with a boy named Peter who was the best football athlete in 5 grade. He was cool. He always picked the people who sucked because he actually cared about folks being picked last. At least that is what I decided what the reason was. Where do you think he learned this from? His gym teacher? NO. His parents? Just maybe.
If we want our kids to grow then we have to show them HOW to show compassion and how to root for the underdog so to speak; then being picked last will have no power. I have always cheered for the underdog. I have always smiled at the new kid, sat by them, invited them to sit with me because I was the underdog. I was the new kid. I was picked on for being black, for being smart, for having a big nose and lips. It never ended. But what I am thankful for is a grandmother who didn't allow those things to affect my outlook on people. So I tell my daughter all the time, don't let your classmates pick on you or anyone else, YOU be the catalyst for change if that is happening, YOU be the one that makes someone feel better about themselves and don't worry if you are not rewarded for it.
As for the folks that pick on her, that is another story for another day.
I'm referring to Jen over at Prior Fat Girl. I was so happy with her Falling off the Wagon post. I really needed it & I was so down on myself because of yesterdays eating choices. But you know what - it is ALL good. I usually don't pay much attention to my binging habits because I am too busy eating*. But now that I think about it - I have been down because of my birthday. It was hard this year - I mean nothing to whine about but it was still hard for me - personally.
I decided to take this journey of purification because I wanted to be reborn. I also wanted to quit talking about it & BE about it like some of these other wonderful ladies. Like Syl at LIVE, SMILE, RUN or Missy at the Ups and Downs of Losing Weight....just two new blogs I am so proud to be subscribed to. I don't have a lot of money to buy little gifts for giveaways to get readers to read my blog. But what I do have is respect for these women and creativity to show them that respect......so this is for you Jen, Syl and Missy!
I never stop to think that maybe my hubby really does "think" about the stuff he does to me or says to me and how I may feel but I guess yesterday he was really thinking hard cause he sent me this song - edited of course to fit me from my perspective. I was at work when he sent this to me and almost started bawling.....this is how I feel sometimes because we are still learning about each other and learning how to be husband and wife. It is not easy.
I LOVE YOU SUDD-MUFFIN! Stay tuned and I will reveal WHY my hubby is my sudd-muffin....coming manana!
Subject: Make ya feel like this sometimes...I'm sorry:(
To: ME!!
Loving you, is killing me
When you know it should be thrilling me Loving you, is choking me slowly When I'm with you I still feel real lowly Loving you, is busting me You don't ever put your trust in me Loving you, should mean that I'm your queen You don't make me feel like anything
CHORUS
Now I never knew you'd be so evil How did you get to be so evil boy
Now you telling me, that I'm bad to you You don't know what you’re talking 'bout boy
Hear me when I say You can't just do whatever you want, boy
Loving you, is killing me When you know it should fulfill me Loving you, is aching me sadly You know that it should make me happy Loving you, isn’t worth all the suffering In return you never give me nothing Here's the news about loving you Well it's something that I used to do Loving you, is killing me When you know it should be building me Loving you, is holding me back Why the hell you make me feel like that
Yesterday, I took my daughter on a walk in our neighborhood. We actually have a nice neighborhood with a walking path & man-made lake and stream. There were ducks everywhere. We walked until the path ended at the neighborhood playground. Nothing spectacular about this playground. Just 4 swings two climbing areas with slides and – a set of monkey bars. The big shadow is me – ha! I loved monkey bars when I was a kid. I even loved that little round metal bar shaped like a rectangle and drilled directly into the ground. I would balance on that thing on my butt and then swing backwards with the back of my knees hugging the bar – around and around. Some kids would even tie their sweaters around their waste and to the bar to swing around without the aid of your knees. Back to the monkey bars. At my school in Scottsdale, AZ, we had a nice jungle gym, swing monkey bar play area. We had a set of monkey bars connected to the slide as well as metal rings that faced the monkey bars. I would swing on the rings, just until I got the right height and momentum and let go to fly over to the monkey bars, catch it and monkey my way to the end and repeat. I was fearless and not afraid to try anything. Yesterday at the park, my daughter wanted to try the monkey bars. Now she’s nine so, I thought monkey bars would be easy. She couldn’t even swing. She tried twice more than gave up – all the while complaining and whining about it. I was dumbfounded. She’s nine and was afraid to try the monkey bars. She was scared. It made me realize how sheltered and out of shape she is. For 6 years of her life we lived in a one bedroom duplex. This place was smaller than my current master bedroom/bath and closet put together. We slept on a sofa bed for 6 years. I rarely let her go outside because of the neighborhood we lived in. I mean, our neighbors were gangbangers and THEY watched out for us. I was always too tired to take her to the park because I worked full time and went to school full time – trying to make a life for her. This is the result. She is afraid to try and quick to give up. I don’t understand. I am not that way. I pushed and pushed while I was pregnant with her and after to..……or maybe I really “didn't”. I just never realized it and it has rubbed off on her. That makes me sick to my stomach. It also makes me want to get rid of a lot of stuff in our lives that are not enriching it. That’s hard to do when you’re married to “The Resistance”. I got up to exercise today after sitting on my bed for 45 minutes crying about Aiden and feeling just blah. I finally got up and decided to exercise. I invited my daughter to join me. It was a mess. I couldn’t even exercise for her whining and complaining. What they heck is going on??? Did I raise my daughter up to this point to whine and complain. NO SIR I DIDN’T. So now I am perplexed on how to get her out of this….funk. Any ideas??? Anyone?
