Maybe it's because of my job, my office helps parents who are working or going to school with daycare costs. I'm seeing a lot more clients and several who are losing their jobs. For some reason I suddenly started panicking and decided that now was the time to put away some cash. I have a savings account, but I really just had this urgent need to start stuffing a coffee tin just like a lot of our grandmas did back in the day. Daddy and I have been paying off all our small debts with our tax return leaving us with less payments and we're using that money to pay off the bigger things. So far we've cut over $400 per month in payments. One of the places I paid off was practically begging me not to pay off my account and just use the money to earn interest in my savings account. I explained to that person that I was a banker for 12 years and I already know that right now I would actually save more money NOT paying interest than I would earn by putting the money in a savings account. I paid off another loan two days later. The second place called me not even 24 hours later to tell me that I would qualify for 4 times the amount I borrowed the first time if I came back in to re-open my account. I declined nicely. That afternoon, the first place called me to double my original loan (which was already 4 times my loan at the second place, so you can see this was a significant amount). Again I declined and I let them know that it was very nice of them to offer and I was glad to know that should I need to, I could again return to borrow from their company.
The other night I had a horrible dream: the top of the alter at the wedding was tipping over so they stopped everything till the fixed it, I'd forgotten to find the rings as had to go to Wal-Mart to buy replacements, the customer service was horrible, a gallon of milk was $12!!!! That last thought actually woke me up in terror! At least my priorities are straight, food first wedding last. I can only say that while I hope this economic crisis doesn't get worse, I'm a realist and I'm not taking chances. Whatever I can spare is going in that coffee tin.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Junk in her trunk?
My sweet BB, who never gets in any trouble at school, has gotten into trouble twice in two weeks. Usually if the school calls about Lena or Josie my immediate response to the caller is, "What did she do now?" If they call about BB it's, "Is she ok?" because I only get called for her if she is sick or hurt. Apparently those days of mommy innocence are over. I got a call from her teacher last week because she was losing lunch recess for three days. Apparently, there was a boy she was playing tag with who said to her as she ran by, "You've got alot of junk in your trunk!" Um, excuse me, but that's my (nine-year-old skinny as a toothpick) baby you're talking about. BB's response was to try to get this boy to shut up by shoving a stick into his mouth but first she pinned him to the ground. You have no idea how hard it was not to bust up laughing when she told me this. Or perhaps you do as everyone including Daddy, Brandi and Grandpa laughed their asses off! It seems only the teacher and Grandma find this to be a very serious matter. Grandpa even stated, "My baby girl doesn't take sh*t from anyone!" The second time she was under her desk during a lesson drawing on the floor with a red crayon. The teacher made her stay in for recess to clean it up and sent a letter home to be signed by a parent. I had no idea about it until the teacher called me at work to inform me that BB had forged my signature. I told the teacher (and I really did say this), "If I tell her Grandma this she'll laugh at me and tell me I got a child just like me." Yes, I will admit it! In fifth grade I forged my mother's name on a letter home about not doing my homework - in fact, I did it several times but only got caught when I tried too late in the middle of the night to sign it and it didn't come out as well at the others. At least I was very close to my mother's signature and spelled her name correctly. BB signed my name in just barely learned it cursive and spelled Cristnie. So we had a parent-teacher-student conference the next morning and determined that she was being teased by another girl relentlessly and harshly and BB was trying to find anyway to escape which led to her being under her desk drawing and forging my name to avoid losing recess to be with other children. The solution: BB will immediately tell a teacher whenever this girl teases her and start visiting the school counselor, her teacher will have her tested for the gifted program because she is very intelligent, the counselor will have a talk with the other girl and her parents, I will continue to be the supportive mom. Conclusion: pin down a boy + commit forgery = gifted program.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Aaaaacccckkkk!!! I'm getting MARRIED!!!
I need some serious help here! I'm getting married. As in SOON! AS SOON AS JUNE 13TH! Why the sudden need to get married? Because I have to. And no, I'm not pregnant (at least I don't think so), besides I've already got one kiddo from this man and gained two more in the process so pregnancy is not the pushing (pun) point here. I need to get married in a hurry because I need my Dad to be there. My dad's health is not the greatest anymore. My superman who used to hang 75% out of a high speed helicopter with a giant gun in his hands is in so much pain that he is using a cane to walk. My hero who tried his darndest to save lives while he was in the Air Force is getting older. But to me 54 isn't old. Not nearly old enough. There is a chance that he might need surgery on his spine for what they think is a tumor (at least that's what they think they saw on the MRI), there is a chance he won't survive. So, Daddy and I are pushing up the wedding to June 13th come hell or high water because I want my Dad to be there. There is no point in waiting until Halloween if my Dad won't be there. So we are making June 13th our own personal Halloween.
***OK, so maybe the fates have it that I won't be married on this day because everywhere I've looked is either booked or not to my liking (yes, I'm still picky). But I think I've found the perfect place and depending on how things work out with them, I may give them some kuddos her on my blog, stay tuned. More info to come.
***OK, so maybe the fates have it that I won't be married on this day because everywhere I've looked is either booked or not to my liking (yes, I'm still picky). But I think I've found the perfect place and depending on how things work out with them, I may give them some kuddos her on my blog, stay tuned. More info to come.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Can I inspire you?
I happened upon a link to a new site called "Violence UnSilenced". I am hoping that I can inspire however few readers I have to click on one of the links on my blog and visit this site. I am in complete awe at how this tragedy has been pulled out of the closet to get the awareness it needs. Too many of our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends and lovers have been victims of domestic violence. Domestic violence knows no boundaries: male/female, gay/straight, rich/poor/, old/young, religious/agnostic/atheist. It's victims are often bombarded with shame and guilt and anxiety. I encourage you to visit the site and learn what you can to recognize the signs that one of your friends might be a victim, because I know personally how hard a victim tries to hide the truth. Most of my readers (if I do have any) do not know my past and those that do, do not know the details. "Violence UnSilenced" has inspired me to open my closet and release my past, because truly, it's part of who I am. I am a better mother because of it, but nobody should ever have to live as my daughter, BB and I did.
A cracked rib. Skinned knees. A broken couch. A scar from where a hanger went through the back of my thigh. A wrist that still sometime hurts from a torn tendon. The memory of a miscarriage from the second rape. Memories that still surface from time to time. I try to keep the same doctors but this year I moved and I have to explain the medical history all over again. My brain is now 34 and, unfortunately, can only remember the list of injuries by remembering how they happened only to have that still lingering question of WHY? It doesn't help that our daughter BB is that man's child and he actually made the effort to see her the Christmas before last and she was receptive to the idea. He's been remarried almost since I divorced him because he got a Honduras teenager pregnant while we were still married and the Army he works for were planning to ream his ass if he didn't do something. That was six years ago, his mother says he's a great dad to that kid, sad he couldn't do it for us.
A cracked rib - week after Thanksgiving 2000. I was sitting on his lap on our couch in the living room of our apartment kissing him under his chin. My affection earned me a shove off his lap and a swift kick in the ribs, no words. This was late in my relationship with him and the only time I ever hit back. He left me there and went to bed. When I could breathe again, I got up and went to our bedroom, climbed onto the bed standing over him with one leg on either side of his body. With all the strength I could muster, I balled up my fist and punched him in the back of the ribs as hard as I could. Before I could blink, I was under him on the bed with my chin pressed into my throat, unable to breathe. He said, "Now we're even," and went to sleep. I could only think, "you have no idea how uneven we are."
Skinned knees - April 1999. We were driving back from his mother's house, I think it was Spring break from college, heading back to my parent's house. There was an argument about something and I asked him to let me out of the car at the mall. Instead, he undid my seat belt, pulled over, opened the door and pushed me out with the car still moving. I was three months pregnant with BB. I still married him in June.
Broken couch - sometime in 2000. Living in Ft. Polk, Louisiana, he had developed an addiction to video games. He would sit at the computer all day, I had to serve him lunch at the desk, never a word to me, never played with BB. I timed him once, 16 hours! The only way to get him off the computer was to sneak through the other side of the kitchen and unplug the phone cable, run quietly back to where I had been while he cussed that the server disconnected. After two or three times, he'd get off the computer and talk to me or play with BB. One time, I got caught. My punishment was several punches to the top of my head (because my hair would cover the bruises) while he had me pinned to the couch. When I tried to get up from the couch, he threw me down on it so hard that I went through it. One of the boards had broken as had one of the long steel springs.
The Hanger - my ex was very possessive. I was timed whenever I went to the store or to do laundry at the laundromat and I was never allowed to take the baby with me because then he knew I would always come back. If I was ever late, I was grilled with questions about who I saw, what did I say? He would pick out my clothes for going to the store: a drab green dress that went to my ankles. It had at one time been pretty but age and washing had made it a "house dress" only. If I was wearing make-up when he came home, he insisted on knowing why. I would tell him I was trying to look pretty for him but he would grab one of his swords and poke into each and every closet in the house looking for whomever I was hiding. One time I told him how silly he was being which got me pushed into my closet. There was a hanger on the floor between the shoes. I fell on it and the hanger became embedded in the back of my thigh about 1 1/2 inches. To this day, I hate seeing hangers on the floor.
To be continued....
A cracked rib. Skinned knees. A broken couch. A scar from where a hanger went through the back of my thigh. A wrist that still sometime hurts from a torn tendon. The memory of a miscarriage from the second rape. Memories that still surface from time to time. I try to keep the same doctors but this year I moved and I have to explain the medical history all over again. My brain is now 34 and, unfortunately, can only remember the list of injuries by remembering how they happened only to have that still lingering question of WHY? It doesn't help that our daughter BB is that man's child and he actually made the effort to see her the Christmas before last and she was receptive to the idea. He's been remarried almost since I divorced him because he got a Honduras teenager pregnant while we were still married and the Army he works for were planning to ream his ass if he didn't do something. That was six years ago, his mother says he's a great dad to that kid, sad he couldn't do it for us.
A cracked rib - week after Thanksgiving 2000. I was sitting on his lap on our couch in the living room of our apartment kissing him under his chin. My affection earned me a shove off his lap and a swift kick in the ribs, no words. This was late in my relationship with him and the only time I ever hit back. He left me there and went to bed. When I could breathe again, I got up and went to our bedroom, climbed onto the bed standing over him with one leg on either side of his body. With all the strength I could muster, I balled up my fist and punched him in the back of the ribs as hard as I could. Before I could blink, I was under him on the bed with my chin pressed into my throat, unable to breathe. He said, "Now we're even," and went to sleep. I could only think, "you have no idea how uneven we are."
Skinned knees - April 1999. We were driving back from his mother's house, I think it was Spring break from college, heading back to my parent's house. There was an argument about something and I asked him to let me out of the car at the mall. Instead, he undid my seat belt, pulled over, opened the door and pushed me out with the car still moving. I was three months pregnant with BB. I still married him in June.
Broken couch - sometime in 2000. Living in Ft. Polk, Louisiana, he had developed an addiction to video games. He would sit at the computer all day, I had to serve him lunch at the desk, never a word to me, never played with BB. I timed him once, 16 hours! The only way to get him off the computer was to sneak through the other side of the kitchen and unplug the phone cable, run quietly back to where I had been while he cussed that the server disconnected. After two or three times, he'd get off the computer and talk to me or play with BB. One time, I got caught. My punishment was several punches to the top of my head (because my hair would cover the bruises) while he had me pinned to the couch. When I tried to get up from the couch, he threw me down on it so hard that I went through it. One of the boards had broken as had one of the long steel springs.
The Hanger - my ex was very possessive. I was timed whenever I went to the store or to do laundry at the laundromat and I was never allowed to take the baby with me because then he knew I would always come back. If I was ever late, I was grilled with questions about who I saw, what did I say? He would pick out my clothes for going to the store: a drab green dress that went to my ankles. It had at one time been pretty but age and washing had made it a "house dress" only. If I was wearing make-up when he came home, he insisted on knowing why. I would tell him I was trying to look pretty for him but he would grab one of his swords and poke into each and every closet in the house looking for whomever I was hiding. One time I told him how silly he was being which got me pushed into my closet. There was a hanger on the floor between the shoes. I fell on it and the hanger became embedded in the back of my thigh about 1 1/2 inches. To this day, I hate seeing hangers on the floor.
To be continued....
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
What's My Age Again?
You've heard that song "What's My Age Again?" I seem to have it running through my head because I'm getting confused. Perhaps it's old age or perhaps it's cause I'm so young. Nobody, it seems, can agree. Within this past month, I have heard the following comments:
Four kids!?! You don't look old enough to have four kids! (asked by a fireman at least ten years younger than me with two kids of his own)
I'll need to see your ID (to purchase wine).
Oh, but you're just a kid (this person is only 8 years older than me).
You know who Bruce Springsteen is? He was hot when we were in high school, how could you know who he is? (This person is only three years older than me, so I was in Junior High)
Mom, where were you when Abraham Lincoln was killed? Were you there when Abraham Lincoln was killed? (Asked by my 11 year old)
Ouch! How that last one hurt. I've been lucky to inherit my mother's youthful genes but I do have a few silver hairs courtesy of my dad's. I have been carded at 23 for being with a friend who was buying a lighter, let me repeat: A LIGHTER! He wasn't even buying cigarettes, just a lighter. I was carded at 26 when my (then 20 year old now ex-)husband took me to a rated R movie for our 1st anniversary. And even last fall, when I took said 11 year old to her first middle school dance, the chaperon lady asked the both of us if our mother knew she had to pick us up by 10 o'clock. She was quite surprised when I told her, "I'm the mom and yes, I'll be here to pick her up." She apologized (I actually thanked her for the error) and said I looked like a student. Even Daddy's ex-wife has mistaken my age. She was going around town telling people he left her for a younger woman because I was pregnant! Daddy's ex-wife is three years younger than me. And no, he didn't leave her for me, he left her because she was always passed-out and the last straw was finding Josie covered in her own feces while The Big B was passed-out with earplugs in and the phone off, she couldn't even hear Josie crying. Daddy and I didn't start dating until after the divorce was signed but you can bet I was loving on him as it had been quite a long time for this here mommy and BOB wasn't cutting it anymore. Hence, the B-Boy's rapid conception.
So how old am I? I guess it's a matter of perspective. To my children I am old, our youngest daughter thinks I'm twelve, which to her I'm sure is old. It is twice her age after all. To other adults, I'm still a (pick one) girl, kid, youngster. In actuality, I am turning 35 this year. So how about we take 12 and 35 and average them: I'll be 23 1/2 again! Let's go buy a lighter!!!
Four kids!?! You don't look old enough to have four kids! (asked by a fireman at least ten years younger than me with two kids of his own)
I'll need to see your ID (to purchase wine).
Oh, but you're just a kid (this person is only 8 years older than me).
You know who Bruce Springsteen is? He was hot when we were in high school, how could you know who he is? (This person is only three years older than me, so I was in Junior High)
Mom, where were you when Abraham Lincoln was killed? Were you there when Abraham Lincoln was killed? (Asked by my 11 year old)
Ouch! How that last one hurt. I've been lucky to inherit my mother's youthful genes but I do have a few silver hairs courtesy of my dad's. I have been carded at 23 for being with a friend who was buying a lighter, let me repeat: A LIGHTER! He wasn't even buying cigarettes, just a lighter. I was carded at 26 when my (then 20 year old now ex-)husband took me to a rated R movie for our 1st anniversary. And even last fall, when I took said 11 year old to her first middle school dance, the chaperon lady asked the both of us if our mother knew she had to pick us up by 10 o'clock. She was quite surprised when I told her, "I'm the mom and yes, I'll be here to pick her up." She apologized (I actually thanked her for the error) and said I looked like a student. Even Daddy's ex-wife has mistaken my age. She was going around town telling people he left her for a younger woman because I was pregnant! Daddy's ex-wife is three years younger than me. And no, he didn't leave her for me, he left her because she was always passed-out and the last straw was finding Josie covered in her own feces while The Big B was passed-out with earplugs in and the phone off, she couldn't even hear Josie crying. Daddy and I didn't start dating until after the divorce was signed but you can bet I was loving on him as it had been quite a long time for this here mommy and BOB wasn't cutting it anymore. Hence, the B-Boy's rapid conception.
So how old am I? I guess it's a matter of perspective. To my children I am old, our youngest daughter thinks I'm twelve, which to her I'm sure is old. It is twice her age after all. To other adults, I'm still a (pick one) girl, kid, youngster. In actuality, I am turning 35 this year. So how about we take 12 and 35 and average them: I'll be 23 1/2 again! Let's go buy a lighter!!!
Friday, February 13, 2009
The Coupon
I will admit to everyone that I have the best mom ever. She is the strongest woman I know and I admire her more than she will ever know or believe. She has impeccable style even if all she's doing is running outside to pull some weeds. But most of all, she gives the best mom advice.
Last night, my family was out at Target to buy some shoes for our eldest daughter who was going to her first Valentine's dance to meet up with a boy. On one of the end caps, were neat rows of Lighting McQueen galoshes. B-Boy fell instantly in love! B-Boy wants everything that could be Cars themed. He has the toddler bed, table and chairs, toy shelves, pinata, wall stickers, PJ's, underwear, socks, pants, shirts, toothbrush and toothpaste, beanie, and toys. Naturally, he WANTED those "wain boots." Payday wasn't until today and our budget last night only covered Lena's shoes and what money she needed to get into the dance and snacks. But B-Boy doesn't understand the concept of "waiting until payday," so his happiness at finding Lighting McQueen galoshes turned into a full-scale on the floor crying temper tantrum and even becoming the weepy-eyed little angel pleading "but I've been good." Luckily, and as if by telepathy, my mom called. Naturally she heard her little grandson crying and I explained what was happening. Without skipping a beat, my mom said "Write him a coupon to get his shoes tomorrow." Just like that, as if it were the natural way to do things. Of course, to my mom, it was the natural thing to do, "That's what I used to do with you," she said. I relayed the information to Daddy who promptly took out a business card and wrote out the following:
*COUPON*
Last night, my family was out at Target to buy some shoes for our eldest daughter who was going to her first Valentine's dance to meet up with a boy. On one of the end caps, were neat rows of Lighting McQueen galoshes. B-Boy fell instantly in love! B-Boy wants everything that could be Cars themed. He has the toddler bed, table and chairs, toy shelves, pinata, wall stickers, PJ's, underwear, socks, pants, shirts, toothbrush and toothpaste, beanie, and toys. Naturally, he WANTED those "wain boots." Payday wasn't until today and our budget last night only covered Lena's shoes and what money she needed to get into the dance and snacks. But B-Boy doesn't understand the concept of "waiting until payday," so his happiness at finding Lighting McQueen galoshes turned into a full-scale on the floor crying temper tantrum and even becoming the weepy-eyed little angel pleading "but I've been good." Luckily, and as if by telepathy, my mom called. Naturally she heard her little grandson crying and I explained what was happening. Without skipping a beat, my mom said "Write him a coupon to get his shoes tomorrow." Just like that, as if it were the natural way to do things. Of course, to my mom, it was the natural thing to do, "That's what I used to do with you," she said. I relayed the information to Daddy who promptly took out a business card and wrote out the following:
*COUPON*
To B-Boy, Good for one pair of Cars boots from Target
*COUPON*
He handed it to B-Boy and told him what it was and what it meant. Instantly, the tears and wailing ended and were replaced by a cheerful smiling little boy who took such pride in his "coupon" that he even showed the cashier on the way out who reminded him to hang on to his coupon and she'd see him tomorrow. Daddy and I just had to call Grandma back once we got home to thank her, thank her, and thank her some more.
Isn't my mom just AWESOME.
He handed it to B-Boy and told him what it was and what it meant. Instantly, the tears and wailing ended and were replaced by a cheerful smiling little boy who took such pride in his "coupon" that he even showed the cashier on the way out who reminded him to hang on to his coupon and she'd see him tomorrow. Daddy and I just had to call Grandma back once we got home to thank her, thank her, and thank her some more.
Isn't my mom just AWESOME.
Friday, February 6, 2009
A complement!
I'm feeling pretty good right now. I'm feeling pretty good about what I'm doing. Yesterday, I got a phone call from a client who was just laid off from her job. She said she was telling her mom she was so glad she has me as a caseworker because I would help her out, make her feel better about herself, and she saw me as inspiration to go back to school.
WOW
Apparently, sharing a bit of my single-mom-doing-the-best-she-can-going-back-to-school-and-succeeding self was inspiring enough that when she was laid off from work last weekend, her first thought was if Christine can do it, so can I. It had been my dream my whole life to help people. I thought I wanted to be a teacher and that's what I was going to college for, but in the past few years, I've slipped into this role of helping those seriously less fortunate than myself. It has really changed the way I look at my contribution to the human race. Yes, we all need teachers and I'm sure I would've made a good one. But perhaps my place is to help people make better lives for their families. After we all leave school, either through graduation or other means, who do we have helping us to give our lives direction? If we're lucky, we have parents like my own who poked, prodded, nudged and yes, even screamed us in the right direction. But what about everyone else? The world is full of those who are too scared to ask for help and those too scared to offer help that may not be wanted. I decided long ago to stop being scared and to at least show people by example what is possible and offer assistance along the way. A friend/co-worker of mine who retired last year was wonderful at what she did to help people. If a young man on public assistance came in to our office because he just lost his job and his wife was expecting their fifth child, she was not afraid to (very grandmotherly) ask him if he didn't understand where babies came from! She would tell a client to their face that she knew they were lying about why they didn't look for a job because their mother had already "died" three time this year! And she did these things in such a way that people never got mad or upset, they just sheepishly smiled at her knowing they were pinched and either went out and did better or didn't but at least didn't lie about it anymore. She didn't sugar-coat reality because she believed that people wouldn't take responsibility for themselves if all we ever did was coddle them because we didn't want to get in trouble with the higher-ups, and how were we supposed to help them become self-sufficient if they didn't start taking responsibility for their own lives and families. While I'm not quite brave enough to tell people I know they are lying, I apparently am helping people turn their lives around in my own way by not being afraid to let them know me. I truly do feel like I'm on the right track.
WOW
Apparently, sharing a bit of my single-mom-doing-the-best-she-can-going-back-to-school-and-succeeding self was inspiring enough that when she was laid off from work last weekend, her first thought was if Christine can do it, so can I. It had been my dream my whole life to help people. I thought I wanted to be a teacher and that's what I was going to college for, but in the past few years, I've slipped into this role of helping those seriously less fortunate than myself. It has really changed the way I look at my contribution to the human race. Yes, we all need teachers and I'm sure I would've made a good one. But perhaps my place is to help people make better lives for their families. After we all leave school, either through graduation or other means, who do we have helping us to give our lives direction? If we're lucky, we have parents like my own who poked, prodded, nudged and yes, even screamed us in the right direction. But what about everyone else? The world is full of those who are too scared to ask for help and those too scared to offer help that may not be wanted. I decided long ago to stop being scared and to at least show people by example what is possible and offer assistance along the way. A friend/co-worker of mine who retired last year was wonderful at what she did to help people. If a young man on public assistance came in to our office because he just lost his job and his wife was expecting their fifth child, she was not afraid to (very grandmotherly) ask him if he didn't understand where babies came from! She would tell a client to their face that she knew they were lying about why they didn't look for a job because their mother had already "died" three time this year! And she did these things in such a way that people never got mad or upset, they just sheepishly smiled at her knowing they were pinched and either went out and did better or didn't but at least didn't lie about it anymore. She didn't sugar-coat reality because she believed that people wouldn't take responsibility for themselves if all we ever did was coddle them because we didn't want to get in trouble with the higher-ups, and how were we supposed to help them become self-sufficient if they didn't start taking responsibility for their own lives and families. While I'm not quite brave enough to tell people I know they are lying, I apparently am helping people turn their lives around in my own way by not being afraid to let them know me. I truly do feel like I'm on the right track.
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