Mid-life crisis?

Do women have mid-life crises? Apparently it's a proven fact that men do. They put on toupees, buy convertibles, have affairs, etc. What about us? Isn't it bad enough that we have to have periods, PMS, bear children and go through menopause?

Of course, you can look at a mid-life crisis as a good thing or a bad thing. It can be good, because it certainly looks like fun, doesn't it? Bad, because it's frustrating and unsettling and can sometimes really upset or ruin your family. True?

I don't consider myself anywhere near mid-life, but I'm definitely going through something. All through my high school and college years, I strove to be the woman in the power suit and running shoes. I was going to live in a big city in a fantastic apartment and have a powerful job.

Here I am, still in West Virginia, living out in the sticks. I'm a soccer mom with an SUV, a mortgage and unfortunately a job that I hate. I didn't used to hate it. I used to have fun at it. Even through all the political bull shit we endured here, I still enjoyed what I did.

I don't enjoy it anymore.

Ever since Sam was born, I wanted to be a SAHM. It's not even about that anymore, especially because he is in school now. It's about doing something I enjoy. It's about doing something that makes a difference in someone else's life. It's about doing something with meaning and purpose.

I don't mind work. Lord knows, Dad instilled that in me a long, long time ago. I just want something different. I tell friends that and they say to apply for another job. Well, that's just the same old same old. Same shit, different day and I don't want any part of it.

So what do I want to do? Oh, I know what I want to do. I've talked about it for a couple years now. The big question is: Do I have the balls to go out on that limb and take a risk? I think I do, if I just had Ron's support.

He's too worried about the bottom line and doesn't want to accumulate any debt after I quit here. I can understand that, but he doens't understand how unhappy I am. I'm not in a better mood ever than when it is 3:30 on Friday because I know I don't have to think about this place for a couple days. Sunday afternoon, I start getting bitchy because I know Monday is coming.

I just feel like you have to sacrifice sometimes for you happiness. I just wish he would take this little leap with me.

Busy weekend

Wow. Our weekend was full! Our special Friday night activity was carving pumpkins and this bad mommy didn't get any pictures. I'll try to take one tonight. The pumpkin we did turned out great. A girl in the neighborhood wouldn't believe that we had actually done it ourselves until she saw our mess! LOL

Saturday morning was the soccer game. Sam, unfortuantely, is a follower and does so much better when he has stronger players on his team.... Lord, that child is just like me. Ugh! How do you teach a child to be a leader when both parents are mealy mouths?

When we got home Eric had already dug the ditch for the new drainage line. WooHoo!!! I'm so excited to see this job and done right. Despite the fact that we've already spent thousands to do this very thing, hopefully it will get done right this time.

We had tie-dye birthday party Saturday afternoon. That was... interesting. That mother is definitely braver than I am. LOL

Sam enjoyed working alongside Eric. Hopefully he was a help and not a hindrance.





Too cute! He and Dad would have had a BALL together! Life just isn't fair sometimes.

Sam got to go to Lowe's with Eric and Haley and Daddy Saturday night so he was all excited!

Sunday started with a trip a grocery store. Then, another birthday party. Sunday afternoon and evening were again fill with Sam following Eric around the yard mirroring his every move.

I finally snapped some pictures of Sam in his glasses. You can tell that he is none too happy with me taking them, but I just had to!

We came, We saw.... We cried

So, we are about a month into kindergarten and, this morning, there were still tears. It truly is breaking my heart and I just don't understand it. Out of all the "worst case scenarios" I could come up with involving Sam going off to kindergarten, separation anxiety was NOT on the list.

We actually had two good days this week. Psst, it's only Wednesday! LOL I really thought we were over the hump and there would be no more tears.

Of course this morning the schedule was all off because of the selling of the yo yos from The Ned Show, which is an entirely different story. And we all know that the Samster is a definite creature of habit and as soon as he gets used to the morning routine, they throw a cog in the wheel and change it on him!

I'm hoping for an uneventful evening and an early bedtime... for both of us!

You can let go now

Wind blowin' on my face
Sidewalk flyin' beneath my bike
A five year-old's first taste
Of what freedom's really like

He was runnin' right beside me
His hand holdin' on the seat
I took a deep breath and hollered
As I headed for the street

Chorus
You can let go now,
DaddyYou can let go
Oh, I think I'm ready
To do this on my own
It's still .. it still feels .. a little bit scary
But I want you to knowI'll be ok now,
DaddyYou can let go

I was standin' at the altar
Between the two loves of my life
To one I've been a daughter
To one I soon would be a wife
When the preacher asked,'Who gives this woman?'
Daddy's eyes filled up with tears
He kept holdin' tightly to my arm
'Till I whispered in his ear

Chorus
You can let go now, Daddy
You can let go
Oh, I think I'm ready
To do this on my own
It's still .. it still feels .. a little bit scary
But I want you to knowI'll be ok now, Daddy
You can let go

It was killin' me to see
The strongest man I ever knew
Wastin' away to nothin'
In that hospital room'
You know he's only hangin' on for you'
That's what the night nurse said
My voice and heart were breakin'
As I crawled up in his bed, and said

You can let go now, Daddy
You can let go
Your little girl is ready
To do this on my own
It's gonna be a little bit scary
But I want you to know
I'll be ok now, Daddy
You can let go
You can let go- Crystal Shawanda

Wow. I heard this song on the radio the other day and had to pull over I was crying so hard. I know my dad was a monster during his last several years and sometimes he was a monster before that.

I lived in the shadow of "the other shoe" because we were always waiting for it to drop. Although I was always under the threat of that shoe, there were times when it felt like I had a "daddy" and not a "father."

He could be light and funny. He could be the stereotypical tough guy dad like meeting my prom date at the door, gun in hand and a couple day's worth of stubble on his face. That wasn't impromptu. He had planned it, which meant he was thinking about me and how to make that night more memorable for me.

Was he at every Friday night halftime performance? No, but mom says he came to a lot of them. Was he at every Black Knight Revue? Nope, but he did watch my parts on tape. He was right there at senior night, though. He was in pain because of his back and didn't feel like being there, but there he stood with my name hanging around his neck presenting me with a flower when my name was called.

But those damn strokes took every bit of the good part of him away from us. All we had left was the bad and the bad was worse than it was before. He was a shell of himself at my wedding. He didn't have any idea what was going on.

Can you imagine how he would have been if he had been in his right mind? Can you imagine him in the bride room or in the vestibule right before we walked down the aisle? He couldn't even walk me down the aisle! He had to wait on me at the end and didn't really understand what he was doing there. He would have made that day even more special for me because no matter what happened, I was his Princess and that's just the image I was going for on my wedding day... before the strokes. He didn't get the symbolism after.

I have friends, a couple almost twice my age, that still have their parents. I have friends that bitch and moan about their parents stopping over unannounced. Do you know what I would give for the "old Dad" to stop over unannounced right now? He would walk in, sit down for two minutes and then announce, "Let's go!" He would be joking, though. That was Dad.

We didn't get to bid him a proper farewell because of how he was at the end. We had to watch him deteriorate into a stuttering, stumbling shell of a man who used to be the strongest man I knew. He was a "man." The kind you could threaten your boyfriend with if he treated you wrong. The kind that would change the oil in the backyard, change all 4 tires on your car, mow the yard, prune a tree, paint the fence, then come in for lunch.

In the end, he couldn't even walk across the floor on his own.

He could do all those thing and he could turn right around and scream and cuss and make you feel like the smallest, most worthless piece of shit that ever lived on the face of the earth. Sometimes he would try to make it up to us, sometimes he wouldn't. I didn't appreciate the good times because of the looming memory of the bad times. I wish I would have taken more time to relish in the good. The badminton games, the vacations, the Sunday drives, the pearls of wisdom he tried to communicate, the endless talks of "the good old days," the Christmases he tried to make special.

Instead, I waited in silent pause for that other shoe to drop. I hated that shoe. Sometimes it fell on one of us kids, but most of the time it fell on mom. She bore the brunt for all of us. She is living her freedom now. But, damn, if she doesn't still feel guilty for it. We wonder if he will forever have a hold on our minds. We wonder if we will ever be free from his criticism.

Right at the time I think I'm ok with everything, I hear a song like the one I quoted above and I get mad all over again. Why was I cheated? Why didn't I get my dream wedding where I got to wipe a tear off my daddy's cheek? Why didn't I get to join in the laughter when my daddy wouldn't let go when the preacher asked "who gives this woman?" Why didn't I get to dance with my daddy in the spotlight at my reception?

There's a whole lot about all of this that I just don't understand and wonder if I ever will. What was he saying that last day in the hospital? He was saying something. Why couldn't I understand him. I'm the one that is the most like him. Why couldn't I get what he was trying to communicate. He was trying to get up, did he have enough strength to make it if we would have left the vent on for just a bit longer? The doctors say no, sometimes my heart says otherwise.

Does he know we did everything we could? Does he know that we did what we thought he would want us to do? He gave that rose to mom at the funeral, I truly believe he made that happen. Does that mean that he sees now the hell he put her and us through? Is he sorry?
I've been typing and typing and it's all very choppy. I don't know how to end it, so I'll just end it and hope that I find peace with all of this very soon.