Disturbed Peace

So...I took some time away from blogging to kind of assemble some thoughts. I thought maybe there should be some kind of theme or something to this page. Life doesn't always work like that though and perhaps it's better that my blog reflect my life. Things had really been swell recently until the last week or so. Had these blues creep up on me and before I knew it I was swallowed whole. It reached it's pinnacle this week when I came home to find my house broken into.

THE PROBLEM

   The door was loose as I went to put my key in the lock. Someone had kicked it right in. I walked in cautiously and saw the back door was slightly open and a chilly breeze was blowing in. I looked around and things were in disarray. My heart started pounding and I was struggling to catch my breath. It didn't even occur to me that they might still be there and I started walking slowly towards the bedroom...still unsure of what had happened. My bedroom had been ripped apart. Everything that had been stored away in my closet was open and strewn about the floor. The dresser drawers were open and clothes were hanging out the sides. It sunk in all at once....my home was a crime scene. I called 911.....then waited over an hour for a policeman to come make a report. I asked him what I should do to make my place safer....he suggested I move. Um...?
    I am glad my kids were at their dad's that night and didn't have to see their mom freak. So many facets of the situation bothered me...are still bothering me. They only took one thing that I could find....a second generation ipod shuffle that is worth...nothing! It doesn't make ANY sense. Why pass up prescription bottles and jewelry? All my dvds were still sitting on the shelf. They kicked down my door and tore through my personal life and space....for what? I haven't been sleeping since it happened. I have been delaying going right home when possible. I have been more terrified than I care to admit. It has only been a few months since my car was broken into...now things feel like maybe....this is being directed at me.

MY SOLUTION

    So what does one do when their peace of mind has been shattered? I plot and plan and sit on edge. Being a single mom, this is my biggest fear, that I cannot protect my kids. I bought a baseball bat...the aluminum kind. I feel only slightly better with it next to my bed. I had asked the office at my complex to reinforce the door to my apartment. They told me they didn't have funds for that. I have now begun my search for another apartment. It's the only way I will feel safe now. That.....or arming my kids with semi-automatic weapons and training them all Rambo style.

I Gotta Split

  I have no delusions about my dual personalities. I embrace them. I am a gemini, so it's completely normal for me to have two COMPLETELY different personas. It has only been the last few years or so that they have become so severely divided that I can't ignore the differences. It has only been this last year, since I started roller derby, that my "other" persona has been given a name. Jenine is a mild-mannered, sweet, single mother of two who works in IT. Edith is a rock enthusiast and roller derby girl who doesn't take crap from anyone. These two people make me who I am and they rarely clash. Their goals are essentially the same: to enjoy today.

  First meet Jenine. She is patient, kind, loving and nurturing. She is articulate and love to talk about her kids, swapping recipes, homeopathic cures, plans for the future and makes playdates with her friends and their children on a weekly basis. She is responsible, silly, and fun. She is usually exhausted by 10 and in bed. She likes to read, make crafts, and spend as much time at the park with the kids as possible. She likes a glass or two of wine on occasion while relaxing on the porch. She usually wears jeans or cargos and a t-shirt. Fashion is not her priority. Her kids come first in everything that she does. Her days and nights are usually planned so tight, there is rarely room for adjustment. She is happiest making a home-cooked meal and lounging with her kids at home.

  Then there is Edith. Edith is vibrant, funny, dark-humored, sarcastic, edgy, and easily angered. She likes to talk food also, but prefers dining out and trying new fares. She adores roller derby and going out to see live music. Punk rock and indie guru, she also creates artwork. She will complain about her kids (who she secretly adores) and rant about her political views and latest headlines. Edith either answers with violence or cynicism....be warned. She drinks her vodka martinis extra dirty with admiral fervor. She is a t-shirt lover also, but prefers to pair them with short skirts or shorter shorts. She is a lot of fun and CAN be a lot of trouble.
  I enjoy being these two ladies! It has taken me a long time to find the balance between my worlds. Each side relies on the other to handles certain stresses and responsibilities. I depend on them for my sanity. Chances are....if you know me even a little, you have met both Jenine and Edith. Good twin/evil twin this is what helps keep me centered in my often hectic life.

Antiquated Anger

  I just discovered I have allergies. I never had them before. I grew INTO allergies? Perhaps it is just a natural progression, perhaps a gypsy curse, most likely it is my karma for mocking the allergy laden pansies that seemed to surround me my entire life. Their incessant whining, (although now I realize may have been warranted), always annoyed the hell out of me. So here I am....apparently joining the ranks of the suffering. Getting older just sucks. 

  I never really felt old before, so this is all new revelation stuff. I know I don't look my age, so I have never felt my age before. I refuse to roll over and give up. My brain isn't wired to allow me to act my age. I know I'm not as neat as I was in my twenties,(a night out last weekend certainly illustrated that.). I'm fine with giving up all those freedoms for the life I lead. I know plenty of people my age and younger that seem OLDER than they actually are! I could not quite figure what they were doing different than me. Then ....one day I got it. THEY ARE LAME - I AM AWESOME. I decided in order to prevent a certain decline into some boring old chick, I must strategize. Here is a list of things that I feel may prevent old age and a characterless, commonplace persona from invading. 

I will NEVER: 

wear pants or shorts that hit my ribs

listen to the "soft rock" station

enjoy the colors peach, beige or cream

learn to play cribbage or bridge

learn that the volume knob on the stereo also turns to the left 

disregard fashionable footwear

enjoy watching golf or tennis

stop seeking out new music and going to see live performances

throw out my combat boots

stop voicing my opinions in a snarky and sarcastic manner

let "myself go"

quit expressing myself

   I feel properly armed to proceed in the aging process now. I'm okay with allergies thanks to over the counter meds! And you know what? I'm still going to verbally torture you whiny allergy sufferers. If you think these are bad...we still have wrinkles, thinning hair, liver spots, dementia, and brittle bones to conquer!

Zombie Day

Make your next Easter picnic a ZOMBIE picnic!

As Zombie Day fast approaches, I am getting prepared for a truly awkward holiday. What is Zombie Day you ask? Well....let me first warn you "non-atheists" that you will probably get offended. Most likely.... in fact, you WILL get offended. This refers to all you Christians, Catholics and other Jesus lovers. I am not religious, I don't push my views on others, I raise my kids to think for themselves and I do not shelter them from religion, rather, I educate them on ALL religions. K? So if we can agree to disagree, I can continue. Zombie Day is my little family's version of Easter. We like the idea of bunnies and chocolate and eggs...so we do this stuff. The churchy stuff? Not so much. My kids were fascinated by the idea of Jesus rising from the dead though as they are HUGE zombie aficionados. We figured out that Jesus was the first documented zombie in history. So we celebrate Zombie Day.

See the terror this bunny creates?
My daughter was enjoying this immensely.
Ahhh....Easter.

  What is Zombie Day you ask? How do I go about celebrating this fantastic holiday? These are excellent questions that I will now address. I think holidays and traditions are a personal choice as to how best celebrate. My kids still go and see the Easter bunny....though...this tends to be more terrifying for my son than any zombie would be. See picture. We still hide eggs, paint them, I usually make a "spring" themed basket and we talk about re-birth in mother nature. This is all probably normal Easter stuff.....maybe. That evening/late afternoon (depending on the weather) I make a HUGE pot of spaghetti. We feast on "brains" and watch zombie movies. Sometimes we do zombie make-up and take turns showing off our best scary zombie. If we aren't TOO full on "brains" we might partake in zombie-tag. 

   I don't claim to be some traditional parent. I definitely don't have all the answers when it comes to being one. I DO know all about fun. I do know what makes my family happy. Judge us if you will....but we don't do that to others. I think in teaching my kids some fun weird ways and having different traditions, they are also learning lessons of acceptance. Join us this year and add a little Zombie to your Easter festivities. Eat some "brains" for dinner, have a zombie limb hunt, or just watch one of the classics.

After all:

"He is risen..." Mark 16:9

Once upon a time.....

  I had a life. It didn't involve half the cool things it does now, but I could go on road trips with my gal pals and sleep in late and splurge on designer make-up and perfumes. This is a completely true story from one such road trip and part of the inspiration for my derby name. My dear friend, Jessica truly tells this story the best with all the dramatic effects. She also tells it fairly frequently to illustrate the dynamic of our friendship. I will try my best to do it justice here in written format.

Everyone LOVES this bitch

  I had organized a road trip for my 21st birthday with my two best girlfriends to go to the lake for the weekend. Cara plopped in the backseat to sprawl out and nap almost immediately, Jessica rode bitch, and I was driving. It was a sunny day right at the beginning of summer, we were in our twenties, just one of those perfect moments in life that you always have the polaroid in your brain of. It didn't take very long for the trip to turn a little sour.
  Now, Jessica has always known my little pet peeves and just how to use them against me. She also happens to be one of those people EVERYONE loves. She is cute, sweet, intelligent, fun, and ALWAYS says the right thing at the right moment. We have been very close for far too long for her to behave that way with me. Her favorite past-time around this point of our lives....was needling me. Poking the sleeping bear. She loved getting a rise out of me....mostly because I reacted....sometimes with violence. The morning she found me passed out on the couch, she decided to wake me by slurping her cereal in my ear. She ended up wearing her breakfast. Such was our relationship.
  Now I had several decorations up inside my car to give it a little personality and in some cases, cover the cigarette burns in the upholstery. My most cherished car flair was a bunch of plastic grapes that hung from my rear-view mirror. I had bought them as an accessory for a toga costume for a party at college, and I loved them. Imagine my surprise when, while driving, a little plastic grape bounced hard off my cheek. I turned to glare at Jessica sitting next to me. She was pretending not to notice and forcing her face not to smile. I said nothing and turned my eyes back to the road. >THUNK< Another grape bounced off my face. This time, she couldn't contain her chuckles and was covering her mouth as I angrily looked over and growled tightly, "STOP." It was her first warning.
   Most people might've stopped here. Not Jessica. She had found a new button to push and we had miles to go before we could stretch. Another grape bounced off my forehead and my lips tightened and my chin puckered. I was getting ANGRY. Her little giggles and ornery smiles only heightened my ferocity. "STOP IT JESSICA OR I WILL KILL YOU!!!!" I believe was my last vocal threat. Two more grapes bounced off my face before I saw red. *SMACK* Before I even realized it, my right fist flew out and connected with her grinning face and her head connected with her shut window. I felt redeemed, glorified, vindicated....and a little awful, at the same time. Cara shot up in the back seat from her reclining position at the sound. Jessica looked at me stunned. "You hit me! You HIT me!!!!" Tight lipped and focused on the road, "I warned you." was my only reply.

And THAT is the damn smile.

  Most girls would probably end a road trip at something like this. Not us. The rest of the road trip was not as memorable, but nobody messed with my damn grapes. Jessica now goes up to the same lake every year with her family and tells this story EVERY year. It always makes me laugh that she thinks she comes off as the bigger asshole in it. Someone punching this girl is like somebody kicking a kitten. I am the asshole and I'm okay with that. I have rage issues....that's why I do derby. Also why Jessica and I didn't work out as roommates. Glad we can still be buddies though. True tale of true friendship.

Two Year Olds are Assholes

 Yup, it's true. You may look at this cupcake slathered face and just see the cuteness that is his saving grace most of the time. Look past the dimples to reveal the diabolical. This is Simon and this was taken the very day he turned two years old. He was pretty cute and snuggly before this and I rarely understood what he was saying, but he always capped it off with the smile and dimples, so we got along famously. This was before "the change".
   Now most two year olds go about their day in much the same way an adult would.......if that adult was a drunk sociopath. They scowl and scream at you for no reason at all, have no perception of volume control, they destroy anything and everything in their path, are prone to temper tantrums,which, due to their extremely high endurance levels, can go on for hours, and if you fail to meet their insane (almost tyrannical) demands or misinterpret their instructions....well....duck and cover my friend.
  I have been suffering this shit on my own for a little over six months now. I have a few battle scars from toys being launched at my head, missing patches of hair that have been pulled out, and the occasional bite mark. I have learned quite a bit during this wartime. Just like anything in life, you have to pick your battles. He throws his jacket on the floor repeatedly refusing to put it on. I simply pick it up and let him outside. He WILL come grab me when he is cold. At home, when he throws a fit, I walk away. I will continue to ignore the screams until he can vocalize what he is upset about in a rational manner (rational for two anyway). This is also effective at minimizing his ability to connect projectiles with his target (me). When the tantrum occurs outside the home, I simply remove him from the scene. I will throw him over my shoulder kicking and screaming when necessary. The trick is to always remain in control and level-headed. When they think you are no longer steering the ship....well, you are doomed.

  Some people reading this may think, "Holy crap! Her kid is awful and nothing like mine". Well...it may seem that way, but he has his good moments too. If he didn't, he would not be sharing food and shelter with me right now! That cute little face has saved his ass on many occasions, believe me. He does have many continuous days without incident where I start to think this abominable phase of his life is over. Then, before I even know what I have done, (I have offered him a toy that offends him) he is a raging jerkface again. I would like to quote the reverent Ice Cube when dealing with kids. It's like he said, " Now the title bitch don't apply to all women, But all women have a little bitch in 'em." Swap out "bitch" for "asshole" and "women" for "two-year-olds", and there you have it. Pearls of wisdom. Thanks Ice.