Break In

On Friday morning, Mea and I packed ourselves up, and left for work/school like we do every other work/school day.  Locked the doors, scampered out to the car, running around like usual.

Friday night was the Father-Daughter dance at school.  Mea was so excited.  She and her Daddy had color coordinated their outfits, they were going to eat and dance with her friends.  As we pulled in the driveway and walked to the front door she was yammering at me about all of these things.

I stopped at the mail box, pulled the mail out of the box, and opened the screen door.

I found the front door wide open. In a bit of shock I stepped in and noticed our “technology basket” in the middle of the floor tipped on its side and empty.  I looked up and noticed that the sliding door to the back porch was standing open, looked further still and could see where the door to the back porch stood slightly ajar with splintered wood all around where the door had been forced open.

I started to panic, I pulled out my cell and called 911.  They told me to take Mea and go wait in the car.  When my husband came home, he said that he and Mea were still going to the dance, and that we needed to get in and get her ready to go.  I made sure that no one touched anything, I took the first look into my bedroom.

All of the dresser drawers were pulled out and dumped on the floor.  Clothes were everywhere, they had been through my closet and had pulled all of my purses out and searched through them all.

All of my jewelry, with exception of the things I was wearing, and a few pairs of earrings is gone.

My husband’s diamond wedding band, is gone.

All of Mack’s baby jewelry is gone.

All of our watches.

Four of my Coach bags.

Two Coach wallets.

Mea’s DS.

Two camera’s and our video camera.

Two bottles of cologne, and two bottles of brand new perfume.

A box with Mea’s “Nana necklace” in it.

I don’t even know what else.  I am finding odds and ends that are missing here and there with each day that passes.

I am starting to feel like the universe is out to get me.

I am serious.

We have insurance.  I keep trying to tell myself that it is just stuff.

But that stuff was mine.

And so many things had memories attached to them.

I am just sick.

My great great grandmother’s cameo.  It is little.  It is probably of no value what-so-ever, but all of us have worn it pinned to the inside of our wedding dresses as our “something old.”  My guess is that it is in a dumpster somewhere.  Which makes me even sicker.

Now we will have to find something to replace it.

I was pleasantly surprised by a few things on our insurance, but it seems like it’s going to take a lot of work to prove that I owned this stuff for twenty-plus years.

I am just glad we were not home.

I am also pleased to tell you all that we are the proud owners of a security system.  I hate that it is something that we feel that we “have to” have, I also have decided that as soon as it is economically possible that we will be moving.


Fat Guy, Fatter Suit

I have worked with many different people over the years.

There are some, that for better or for worse stick with you.

“Jeff” is one that will always annoy the hell out of me, even eight years later when I should be over it.  He was supposed to be a professional.  He was supposed to be out drumming up business for me.  I could never take this guy seriously.

For the longest time I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Then I realized.

All of his suits were too big.

But at the same time, they also seemed too small.

He was a biggish guy, not overly built, but kind of chubby, so I think that many of us thought that he had lost a lot of weight before he came to work for us, and that was why his suits didn’t fit, and you know he didn’t have enough money to get them all altered.

But then there was that part where some of them looked too small.

Not too small in the waist line.  Too small in the length.  The waist line was so big that often his belt would be doubled over the fabric, and make the waistband all bunchy.  Like when we would wear my Dad’s pants and pretend to be hobos when we were little.

His pants were also always a little bit too short.  Some suits were worse than others, but there was always quite a bit of sock showing. It probably didn’t help that he occasionally wore black sweat socks with his suits.

So then the day came and he was gone.

I was not sad, as I said there was always something about him that just seemed a little bit not quite right.

Years later, I was talking to an ex-co-worker about him and this is the story that came out.

It turns out that “Jeff” was in panic mode when he got hired on with the old company, and only owned one suit.

He had this friend, who sold him all the suits that didn’t fit him anymore.

His friend was as wide as he was tall apparently. 

Which explains why Jeff’s pants were always too short, and too big around in the middle, and why his jackets looked like he was hauling an extra body around with him.

 


Bloggling Twenty-two

I am calling this in from my phone. Ignore typos and deliriousness. Also, no bullets points.

My husband and I planned with her mother to discuss the drinking problem with step-daughter number 2. We were supposed to do it all together, bit her mom couldn’t wait, and it blew up into a horrible texting thing vs. an in person serious thing. I have been so angry I haven’t been thinking straightly.

I may come back and revisit this again, but that is the very, very short version.

My Mom has a fracture in her hip. (Holly, Mom may not have mentioned this to L yet it is breaking (not funny) news.) She sees an ortho tomorrow. She is freaking out. There home would not be condusive to rehab. Way too many steps, she is panicking that she will have to go to a home for rehab. Please pray that this does not happen. I do not think any of us could deal with this at all.

I set my oldest step-daughter up with a guy that I work with and they really like each other. Like REALLY like each other. They ate on date number five this weekend. I am super thrilled. He is a nice guy and has his shit together.

Also speaking of my OSD, I went over to her house on Saturday afternoon while she filed a police report against her son’s father. While our grandson was with us Friday night, he called E1 33 times and sent her over 50 text messages. Calling her every name in the book and demanding to know where his son was. It was her weekend. WE asked for him, as it was boys sleepover night and we had baby L too. He has gotten wind of her dating this nice guy and wants to try to fuck it up. He is a douche bag. I just pray that he doesn’t scare this new guy away. He is a keeper.

Yesterday, I restricted and hid from view my husband’s ex-wife on FB. I don’t know what I was thinking adding her, because she irritates the hell out of me. Anytime I comment on something the girl’s have posted it seems like she has to try to “one-up” my comment. I know this is dumb, but I hate that loon boon so much that everything she does annoys the shit out of me.

I had a call from one of the companies that I had multiple interviews with while un-employed. They want me to come in for yet another interview. Although I am not super in love with my job, I just don’t think I can go back for a fifth interview with this company. It is ridiculous. If they wanted me they should have hired me in March when I first spoke with them.

This is it for now. My thumbs are getting tired and my battery is running low.


Parking Rage

This morning, I read a blog post on Polly’s blog about parking issues at her townhouse.

I hate parking lots.  Parking ramps, lots, street parking, and sometimes even parking in your very own driveway.

People are idiots.  They cannot drive.  Think they own the road.

Last week, after pulling into a parking space at gymnastics, I had pulled in crooked, backed myself up and straightened my car out.  I hate parking crooked, and I don’t want my car to get door-dinged.

After I had actually parked the car, and started to get out of my own vehicle, a guy in a large truck pulls into the spot next to the driver’s side of my car, and nearly blocked us in.  He was so crooked, that I was able to open my door completely, but had to get Mea out from the other side of the car.  Her door wouldn’t open far enough for her to get out.

There was about five inches separating the back of my car and his.  The back-end of his truck was IN my parking spot.

As he was getting out, I said, “Are you really leaving your truck like this?”

He looked at me like I was stupid and walked away.

We got to the door and realized that we forgot Mea’s water.  Ran back to the car, and watched another guy in a bigger truck double park crookedly on the other side of my car.

I got Mea settled into class, and went out and moved my car.

Every Father’s Day, the church that is across the street from our home hosts a car show.  They have it every year.  In the eleven years that we have lived in our home, it has grown by leaps and bounds.  It makes the neighborhood a bit crazy.

Usually, the car show is over around 4 or 4:30.  We planned Father’s Day dinner with all of our kids and grandkids this year at 5:30 this year, so that we could avoid the craziness.

This year the car show wasn’t over at 4:30.  It was wrapping up right when the girls and kids were all supposed to be here.

Mea, Mack, her boyfriend, E2 and the baby and I were all sitting outside in the driveway, waiting for the other girls/kids to show up when a big truck pulled into our driveway.

The guy parks his truck, gets out, and goes across the street.

He didn’t say anything to any of us!

Just pulled into our driveway, parks and leaves.

He came back ten minutes later with his wife and their baby.  At that point I was about to call the police to have the truck towed.

When I approached him he said that he was “just picking them up.”

THIS IS OUR HOUSE!

IT IS NOT A PUBLIC PARKING LOT!

WE HAD GUESTS ON THEIR WAY TO OUR HOME WHO WERE TRYING TO PARK IN OUR DRIVEWAY!

Who in their right mind does this?

Seriously?


Bloggling Eighteen Patience Addition

Just going to get right into it.  Here we go.

  • I accepted a job offer on Wednesday morning.
  • There is a lot of room for advancement, however it may be a pretty significant cut in pay.
  • If the monthly bonuses pan out the way the managers said they would, but not for four months, it could be about the same as what I was making.
  • They also mentioned that people move up quickly in this department.
  • During my second interview, the Senior Manager asked me many questions about my management style.
  • I had a first and second interview this week for a job doing basically the same thing that I was doing before.
  • This one should pay the same, if not more, than what I was making at the old place.
  • The hiring manager is making a decision today.
  • I am on pins and needles, and I don’t really know what I would do if I were offered this second job.
  • Hard to decide if the cut in pay would be worth it in the long run, or if I should just go on and do what I have always been doing.
  • The other thing with the potential job, is that I would be co-workers again with someone who I not only do not like, but cannot stand.
  • She is a liar.
  • When she was my boss for six months, ten years ago, and she was/is a total nut job.
  • The saving grace is that she would not be my boss.  I know how to deal with her.  I know not to trust her with any information, or believe a single thing she says.
  • She is that bad.
  • I found out about the job because my Uncle is one of her clients.
  • I applied and interviewed without mentioning her name at all.
  • She is the type that if I had, she would say that she got me the job, and hold it over my head.
  • I would rather do this on my own merit.
  • I feel like this is going to be a hard decision.
  • I am not a patient person.
  • It has taken over a month for the first company to interview me twice and make me an actual offer.
  • Second company said they would call today, and I want them to call right this minute.
  • I have been staring at my phone since I woke up at 5:30.
  • I cannot will it to ring.
  • This pisses me off.
  • Either way, I am happy to get back to work, and to get out of this house.
  • Now, I can do a few things with some of our savings that I have been hoarding.
  • Like buy a new sofa.  (Ours is shot.)
  • Because of new sofa, we also need to buy a new kitchen table that is more user-friendly.
  • No more eating in the living room.
  • Ever.
  • As a “Yay, you finally got a job” present to myself, I bought myself a new Coach tote (for my planner, water and lunch) and a Coach ID badge holder.
  • I have thought about changing to an iPhone just so that I can have a Coach phone case.
  • I won’t because I like my phone, but it is a bit tempting.
  • I am a dork.
  • I really didn’t spend too much.
  • Coach Factory is just way too tempting.
  • My obsession with shoes has turned into a handbag obsession.
  • Mea has a sleepover tonight, and we are going out for a nice dinner to celebrate my employment.
  • It has been a long fourteen weeks.
  • I am so glad that it is over.

That’s it kids.  I’ll let you know when I hear about potential job number two.


Daddy Issues

In my last post I mentioned some issues with my middle step-daughter, C.  Since I wrote it, there have been more issues, and I need to write it out.  

So here we go…

First, let me give you the back story.  I haven’t talked about this before, because I didn’t think it was relevant, but I have come to the conclusion that it is indeed relevant.

My husband was married to the evil one.  They had our oldest step-daughter E1.  When E1 was five months old, the separated for six months or so.  During that six month time frame, C was conceived.  Her mother is not the evil one.

The evil one, and my husband reconciled, she got pregnant with E2.  By the time E2 was three years old they were divorced.

Needless to say, when people discover that my middle step-daughter has a different mom, it is a weird story.  

C’s mom did not tell my husband about C, until she was three or four years old.  She had/has some issues, but she is not a bitch.  I really have no idea why she waited to tell him, but she did.  

I think that C has some unresolved daddy issues.  I have talked to E1 and E2 about this, and they both agree.  So in addition to the jealousy issues we already know about, I think there is some other stuff brewing around in that head of hers.

I had gotten a text from C on Memorial Day basically telling me that her feelings are hurt that we hadn’t watched the girls in a while (she has oldest and youngest granddaughters, 3 and 10) and that she felt that we had E1 and E2’s kids more often than hers.  It may be the case, I don’t really know.  It’s not like we have a set schedule for having the grandkids.  Sometimes the girls ask us to watch them, sometimes we ask for them.  I don’t keep score.

C tends to wait until the last-minute to ask us to babysit.  Usually an hour or less before she needs someone to sit.  At the longest it is a day or two notice.  If she has to work, or if she has school, we usually say yes even if we had other plans or whatnot.  She has complained in the past because we “only watch the girls if she is working.”  We can’t win.  

Her kids are not very nice to Mea.  They are better if we have one at a time, but if we have them together, they can actually gang up on her, and can be mean.  In her own house.  With her toys.  It’s not really fair.  I have talked to the kids about it several times, tried to talk to her but she doesn’t want to talk about it.

It turns out that last week, she had decided on Friday that she and her girls were not coming to Mea’s birthday party.  So basically, the excuse that she gave me on Saturday morning, the one that I thought was pretty weak anyway, was a total lie.

She had said that she would stop by sometime this week and bring Mea a present, and to say Happy Birthday.  (Please note:  I do not care about a present.  I don’t believe that Mea cares about a present.  She wants to see her sisters and her nieces and nephews at things like this.)  We did not hear from or see her until last night.

Around five o’clock, she posted something on Facebook about how she should have gotten a sitter for the night because her kids were driving her nuts.  I knew that the text was coming, as soon as I saw the FB post.

Sure enough, maybe five minutes later my phone went off.

My husband was off work yesterday.  Originally, he was going to take Mea to the pool, but we had thunderstorms on and off all day.  In the morning, E1 called and asked if we could watch her youngest.  He had thrown up at daycare the day before, and although he was fine, he couldn’t go back to daycare.  So since we knew the pool was out, we thought it would be fun for Mea and help E1 not miss another day of work.  It was his dad’s weekend to have him, so his dad picked him up last night around 6.

We had already planned to have the baby grandson overnight last night.  I had asked E2 if we could have him on Monday.  We haven’t had him overnight for three weeks.

The first text from C said that she was having a bad day, and at her breaking point with the kids.  

I didn’t answer.

The second text said,”I’m willing to bargain at this point…I would keep Mea for you guys any night you wanted.  Tomorrow, Sunday, Monday, I’m off all those days.”

Mea is not some thing to be bargained with.  She is a person.  She is her sister.  She should sometimes just want to spend time with her.  This is not how it works at all.

Honestly, that last text just sort of sent me over the edge.  It probably shouldn’t have, but it did.  

I had sent E2 a picture of the baby doing something silly, and she sent me a text replying that C was on the war path.  She had called E2, to see if we had E1’s kids in addition to the baby.  

There is no possible way that we can have all five grandkids here at one time.  Five grandkids, plus Mea is six children under the age of ten.  Our house is not big enough.  We quite honestly do not have the space for them all to be here at one time for an overnight.  We also cannot have grandkids here every single night of every single weekend.  It’s not fair to Mea or to us for that matter.

She went on to vent to E2 about how shitty we are, how we aren’t fair to her and her girls, and so on.

I wanted to respond to her.  I still want to.  My husband doesn’t want anything to do with it.  We also found out yesterday that C’s youngest daughter had a recital this week.  We didn’t even know that she was in dance.

I know that I have attempted to be the best step-mom I can be to her.  She only calls when she wants something or needs someone to watch her kids.  We don’t have a relationship past that.  These are the only times that she calls.  

The other girls will call or text me just to talk.  We have a relationship.  It goes both ways.

I just don’t know what to do.

 

 


Proceed with Caution…

I am serious.

What is about to be spewed from my fingers via my head is a big bunch of ranty, venty, horribleness.

I want to fire myself from my current position.

Housewife.

Maid.

Chauffeur.

Mother.

Wife.

Today, really equals Kelly wanting to just run away from home.

My husband is in full baseball mode, which means he is not home.  Ever.

Mea is tired of me.

I am tired of me.

I am just tired.

Mad props to the real stay at home moms, because I cannot do this.  I am not cut out for it.  I am bored senseless.  I have cleaned, reorganized, laundered until I am bored with it.

I am starting to hate my house.

Just the sight of it, makes me want to run away.

Trying to be lighthearted about Mea not listening to me on Facebook, equaled two people calling me to see if I was okay.  All that I said was that my “Mom look” must be broken.  It is a good thing that I didn’t say what I really wanted to say on FB.  One of the calls was to see if I wanted to come to a free parenting class.  Are you fucking kidding me?

SCREAMING IN MY HEAD

I am tempted to run out the door when my husband comes home today, but I don’t know if that will “fix” anything, and I don’t really have anywhere to go, or money to spend when I would get there, or anything else.  Not to mention that gas is eleventy billion dollars a gallon.

If I did leave, the way I am feeling at the moment, I might not come back.

Two interviews tomorrow.

Say a prayer for me.

I need a job, so I can leave this house, and have conversations beyond the latest episode of Good Luck Charlie, which One Direction boy is cutest (Mea says Niall is) what is going to be on Kelly and Michael tomorrow, etc.

I am about to lose my fucking marbles.