Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Why does your drunken ex-boyfriend still call me mom? What picture does that conjure up for you? A 50's era family sitting down to dinner? Crazy aunt June, the cat lady? Or the chaos that was last Thanksgiving when uncle Joe showed up drunk and knocked over the buffet table? I guess for everyone it's something different. There really aren't so many traditional families anymore. It's an ever changing concept. I find even within my own family, we have different ideas about what it means.

I was raised in a "traditional" two parent household where the dad went to work and the mom kept the house clean. It was a little different because my dad was in the Air Force so we moved around a lot. And sometimes he was gone tdy or once even for a whole year. My mom occasionally had a part time job, mostly after I was older but her career was our house. There was just my sister and me. And there's seven years difference in our ages (she's younger). And my parents were way strict and conventional. And kind of kept to themselves. My mom never really spent much time with girlfriends and they didn't have people over alot. They did bowl on a league on Friday nights for awhile so I wouldn't say they were anti-social. It was good I guess. I mean I know later on down the road when you have therapy you're supposed to blame everything on your parents. But I figure they did the best they could and what they thought was right. I was just determined to raise my kids a little differently.

So fast forward...I'm twenty, I get pregnant and married (Yes, in that order. Stupid doctor telling me it takes 6 months to get pregnant after you go off the pill! Try the next freakin week!) Then it's so much fun that we do it again 359 days later. Yeah, that's 6 days shy of a year between my son and daughter. (Stupid antibiotics that make the pill ineffective). Then, twenty two months later, another son. I thought we were on a roll and would have kept going...but my hubby decided three was his point of no return and had a little snipping done. Now, since our oldest had already been diagnosed with autism at this point, he was probably being genetically cautious as well.

So three kids. Under three. Whew! Somedays I think I'm lucky I survived those first few years. Some days I'd give anything to relive a week of it, knowing what I know now. I wouldn't function so much on autopilot and I'd truly enjoy those babies! But we made it anyway. Now, I'm not gonna go so much into the nature and personality of the kids (that's a whole other post), I'm just gonna skip ahead to where it gets chaotic. We ended up having more then three kids. We have biologicals, fosters, and extras. Lots of kids. Those were our three biologicals. CJ, Molly & Sean.

Every boy my daughter has ever dated has called me "mom". Oddly enough, she's always been attracted to bad boys and well, I'm a sucker for a motherless boy. Half of her girl friends called me mom too. I have been counselor, keeper of secrets, and hug giver to more kids over the years then I can count. Those are extras. They grow, they move, the friendship ends, but they stay in your heart. And when one of them calls or texts, I never fail to answer.

Then we have our "fosters". Bobby has lived with us (this time) since January of this year. It's not a legal foster situation because his dad wouldn't relinquish custody, but he's been here nonetheless. I do his laundry, keep track of dr/dentist visits, make sure he gets good grades, issue curfews and punishments. He calls us his family and me mom. Brian is 21. He was never a legal foster either and in fact, has a family that claims him. He got absorbed into our family about three years ago. His college was closer to our house then his "real" family's house so he started staying here on weekends. Then summers. And during holiday breaks. He's even got a cell phone on our plan. They are family.

My parents don't get this situation. They can't imagine taking in strangers and making them family. I can't imagine not doing it. I love my large boisterous clan. I love my biologicals fiercely. But I also love my fosters and extras. I love the nights when we have ten people at the dinner table because some showed up randomly for "dinner at the Turner house". (Which is generally an unforgettable occasion due to general outrageousness and the complete inability to limit table talk to "appropriate" topics.)

Which brings us to the title of this piece..."why does your drunken ex-boyfriend still call me mom?" Because he does. Molly's most recent ex (and they were all but engaged, ring bought and everything) still texts me and calls me. Even though they were the worst couple in the history of couples, I can't not answer. Because he's had a tough life. Yes, he drinks way too much (his inability to quit being the reason she finally (hallelujah) called things off), does really stupid things (drives drunk), and generally acts like an ass. But (as my husband and son finally agreed) he's not a bad person. He just needs help. And I would never ever want to see him date my daughter again, but I would like to see him have a happy life. So, much to her new boyfriend's chagrin, he still calls me mom and I still answer.

Wow. This wasn't a very funny post. Thanks for reading anyway.


Thursday, September 24, 2009

Show me some blog love...

C'mon! I have statcounter people...I know you're out there! Reading and lurking. Please take the time to comment. The reason being...

I was raised to believe "If you haven't got anything nice to say, don't say anything." Which, now that I think about it, is kind of ironic considering my mom is the one who used to tell me this. Because now my mom has turned into kind of a bitch and says really mean things all the time. I mean really really mean things. Things that make you say "ouch" or "gee thanks mom, 50 points for you and 0 for my self esteem". Like this one time my daughter had been sick (with whooping cough of all things, who still gets that?!) for like 3 months and hardly ate anything and lost all kinds of weight and then at Easter we were at my gma's and she had some mashed potatoes and my mom is all "potatoes will make you pudgy". Are you kidding me?! For real mom! The child is practically anorexic at this point and that's what you come out with??! See what I mean? On the upside, my family did laugh about it later and we called Molly "pudge" for months afterward.

Or just recently, on family vacay, I walked into her bathroom when we were getting ready to go out and she says "You look really pretty tonight" (I know you're thinking that this is probably a compliment...but just wait...there's always a kicker) and I said "as opposed to my usual look?" and she says (here it comes...) "well I really hate your hair and don't think it looks good, but tonight it does". Gah...! I had just cut it short and loved it. Thanks mom.

Myspace Layouts

So a result of you all reading and not commenting I think it means that I suck. Because if I can't say something (anything) nice, I don't comment at all. And I guess I just figure that's how everyone works. So if you read it and you like it...tell me so. Otherwise you're just feeding my paranoia, and really, what kind of person does that make you?! Lol. And even if you can't say something can still comment. Really, I can take it. As you can see...I've had a lot of practice.

catty remarks & snarky comments,

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Wedding of the Weekend?

So my sister-in-law got married this weekend. It's her second marriage and oddly's to my cousin. (NO! I do not live in Kentucky! Lol.) He's like a 2nd cousin, twice removed or something. I don't know, somewhere on my gma's side. All I know is we attend his family's funerals and they attend ours. Which should go under the heading "strange customs in small towns". And we've called ourselves "cousins" since they started dating like ten years ago and we realized we were semi-related. After attending the wedding...I'm definitely stressing the "semi".

So we arrive at the church, after picking up my son's girlfriend (brave lad that he is...introducing her to his dad's side of the family and all) and meet my daughter and her boyfriend in the parking lot. We file inside and do the meet and greet. They introduce their significant others to some family members and then my brother-in-law seats us. Well I'm way down the pew from my daughter, so I text her:

me: Did you notice how trailer park the groom's side is?
her: You're horrible! We're in a church.
me: Yeah, I'm gonna burn in hell. But did you notice?
her: Yes of course! Luke says stop discriminating.
me: I'm not discriminating! I'm poking fun. There's a big difference. I know I will totally be partying with these people later. But when did "greasy" become a hairstyle?
her:When Robert Pattison made it cool.
me: oh. damn. you're right. Btw, your father says he's pretty sure there must be a Motley Crue concert around here somewhere!

My daughter and I at the wedding:

At which point...we stopped because the wedding was beginning. So...the best man is called "four eyed joe". Why? Because he has eyeballs tattooed on the back of his head. And yeah, his hair was short enough that you could see them staring at the congregation. That and the ZZ Top beard are quite the combination! Another groomsman had a really long braid hanging down his back. One had a bandanna on his head. Now, lest you think I'm a prude or a snobby bitch, I'm not looking down on these folks. I've been known to spend an afternoon in the tattoo parlor myself, I'm just saying it was something to see. I guess the funniest part was the fact that four eyed joe kept leaning during the ceremony...farther and farther back. I mean at one point my hubby and I were convinced he was going to fall over backwards and take down the others like a stack of dominoes. I thought maybe he made the mistake of locking his knees and was feeling faint. That is, until he nearly ran into me after the ceremony while hollering "Super Joe is here to save the day!" I'm not even gonna speculate on what combo of liquor and street drugs he'd ingested but it was obviously something. Oh, and I probably forgot the tiny detail that "four eyed joe" just happens to be married to my husband's ex girlfriend. Hehehe. It just gets better and better, doesn't it?!

My son and his girlfriend. I swear he's not drunk! The flash gets him every time!

So after the requisite family photos, we head to a local restaurant, because my daughter insists that she's starving. Probably, because she hasn't eaten all day. Huge surprise. We chow down on some chicken nachos and I have a glass of wine. Dealing with my in-laws often drives me to drink. Then we checked out the house my hubby and son and one foster son are working on for a friend of mine. Nice little old house. Needs tons of work! Then it's time to hit the reception. Let the games begin. Find out we missed the cake cutting!! But we're just in time for the Bride & Groom's first dance. We get a table and I head to the bar for my first beer. (Let me intercede here and stress that while I like to drink, due to health issues, drinking excessively is a pretty rare occurrence for me. However, this night my husband offers to be the sober driver!!! I cannot pass up this rare opportunity!) Well everything goes well. The Mother/Son dance is a little sad because the groom's mom passed away suddenly last year. But his sisters come up to fill in. Well, two of the three (the other one's in jail). My daughter points out that the sister who just got out of rehab's dress is actually a shirt. They sell it at the store where she used to work. Now she can't understand why I insisted she didn't dress like a "hootchie" when obviously it was allowed.

My beautiful daughter and her boyfriend. Note: not a "hootchie" dress!

So let's just say I had a lot of beer. They actually asked me at the bar if my glass had a hole in it. Of course, this is the same guy who totally convinced me that the keg was running out and we were on beer rationing so he could only give me a 1/4 glass. (Did I mention my middle name is gullible?). My husband started pointing out I was flirting with the bar guy (nuh-uh, he was totally flirting with me). Which meant he could flirt with that guy's girlfriend, who happened to be one of the bridesmaids. A girl who'd grown up with his sisters and had totally had a huge crush on him. I ixnayed that idea pretty quickly. Anyway, we danced alot. We laughed a whole lot and generally had a great time. My husbands family does know how to party...I will give them that. At the end of the reception, my brother-in-law informed us that everyone was going "late-nighting" and we should come to. "Late-nighting"?? I'm too old for that! But we sent the kids home and headed to the club. Now, honestly I can't even remember the last time I went to a dance club. But there we were. Me, pretty drunk, my husband, pretty amused. He got me a beer and we went to the room where the dance floor was. His ex comes flying off the floor and grabs my hand. "Come dance with us! We can be friends, right?" I assured her that we could and preceded to um, well I guess you could call it dancing to some song I'd never even heard before. I'm with the bride, a bridesmaid, the ex, and one of the groomsmen's wives. So the groomsmen comes up behind his wife and just pulls her dress completely up. So us, and everyone in the bar is treated to a view of his wife's naked boobs and her thong. Me, I'm shocked. The others just laugh. Apparently this is standard party behavior for them. The HEll??! I go running to my hubby. "Did you see that??!" Him: "Why yes, I did!" So we go out to the beer garden, so everyone can smoke. Then my brother-in-law, who's managed to pick up two blondes who are making out with him, and each other, drags me in for a shot. Me & the bride do a shot. Of what? Yeah, no clue. I go back out to the beer garden to find my hubby and the groomsman's wife is on her hands and knees crawling around. Me "You ok?" Her "No! I lost an earring!" Her Husband "It's a diamond. I bought it for her." Well I spy it on the ground and pick it up. At which point...she throws her arms around me, tells me she loves me and kisses me. Ack!!! I don't mean a quick peck. She lays one on me all "I kissed a girl and I liked it". Her husband then repeats the process. Leaving me shell shocked and my husband (damn his hide) laughing. So soon we all decide to head to the bride and grooms house. I make sure they have a sober driver and the bride asks us to drive the ex and four eyed joe to their house. My husband comes out of the bar, carrying the ex. Literally. Because she can't stand up. I warn them both, theres no puking in my car! And frankly, I gotta admit, four eyed joe scares me. He's got crazy eyes. Like Charles Manson eyes.

We get to the house and I went inside with the bride to help get her outta that dress. And omigod there's like fifty knots in the string that undoes her laces!!! This takes my drunk ass quite awhile to undo!So we get her outta the dress and she throws on clothes. I walk into the kitchen and someone is rolling a joint. Well I'm really not into that (my daughter is the original "hugs not drugs" girl and she'd kill me) so I walk outside. Where my husband finds me and says they put the ex to bed and we need to go so that we can drop the bride and groom off at their hotel. Fine by me. I'm totally wearing down and ready to head home. I start saying goodbye to people when the groomsman and his wife come up to me, squish me between them and kiss me again. I'm pretty sure they were feeling me up too. What is with these people??? I politely disentangle myself and make it to the car. We drop them off at their hotel (and the funny thing here is neither the bride nor I realized she was barefoot. Nothing screams "class" like checking in drunk and barefoot.) At this point we headed home. On the half hour drive my husband confessed that as he was taking the ex out of our car and into the house she tried to hold his hand, hug him and otherwise shower him with affection. All the time asking why he picked me. Did he marry me just because I got pregnant? (Please note that we dated for a year, then were engaged for a year before I got pregnant. Obviously, this was not the only reason he married me). And why did I get the good guy. He says he assured her that he wasn't a good guy, mostly he was an asshole and she could check with me for confirmation. And that he married me because he loved me. He said he was worried the whole time that four eyed joe would overhear her and decide they needed to fight. Or that I would come around the corner, see her all over him, and get the wrong idea. I laughed. Like so hard I almost peed my pants. Normally, I'm a pretty jealous chick, but the look of absolute fear and revulsion on his face sent me in to hysterics instead. Poor guy. This is what you get for staying sober and taking care of people. I also couldn't possibly be jealous. I mean, I won, right? I'm not married to four eyed joe, who named their oldest child "Root". Yeah. For real!!

My hubby, who crazily enough, still only has eyes for me

All in all, it was an awesome night. It's the first time ever that we have gotten home after all of our teenagers, biological and foster. How outrageous. And thankfully we followed them by hours, because I seem to remember some drunken noisy sex too. The next day (after my hubby brought me Tylenol and juice) and after the room stopped spinning and my head stopped pounding, I crawled to the shower. When I emerged into the living room, my youngest commented that i was more plastered last night then the house their redoing for my friend. And that's a lot of plaster. Thanks kid. Love you too. He did add that at least I wasn't the kind of girl who got drunk and made an ass of herself. Thank goodness for small favors. My daughters boyfriend said I was hilarious. I was me, only more me. Definitely intense me. I think that was a compliment. All I know takes longer and longer to recover from a night out then it used to. Which is why I only do this like once a year. But god help me...because we have another wedding (which promises more outrageousness) in November. I may not survive...

Hangovers & headaches,

Friday, September 18, 2009

Just to prove...

yesterday's point, here's what happened today: I got up, put chicken breasts in the crock pot for supper, had my cup of coffee while I checked in on my facebook. My youngest son came in and chatted and we checked out a youtube video a friend had recommended. He left to walk the dog. My daughter got up and jumped in the shower. She then asked what I was doing. "Reading Blogs" was my reply. "oh" says she. "I was hoping you were going to say- making my lovely daughter something to eat." Ack. The guilt. So I made us sandwiches and juice. Made my bed. Ate with her then decided to jump up and get the housework knocked out. Cleaned the kitchen, tidied the other rooms, ran the vaccuum through the whole 1st floor. Of course, then I was gross and sweaty so I took a shower. Finally, I sit back down at the computer. My son comes in to get clothes and tell me he's hopping in the shower. My daughter comes in to tell me she's running to town to do errands. Ah...peace at last. NOT!!! I then receive a text message from my hubby: Can you please come to my office? I growled. Seriously.

Then I got up and walked through the hall, the living room, the kitchen and into his office. As I was wearing my reading glasses and a scowl, he correctly assumed I'd been working and apologized. Do you know what he wanted? A sandwich!!! Gah!!!!

frustrated & growling,

Thursday, September 17, 2009

One of these days...

I'm going to convince my family that this is my work. Yes, thanks for pointing out that it would be easier if I was actually making money at it. But, I have to devote the time, perfect my craft, and work up a fan base to even start making money. And to do that I have to have more of that precious commodity called "time". Time in which I'm left alone, at my computer with the door closed. This seems to be nearly impossible. If my youngest son is not poking his head in to inform me that he's hungry and ask what I'm making him to eat, my husband is poking his head in "just to check on you", or a cat is scratching at the door (or more often, walking on my keyboard), or a friend is calling. Why is carving out time to devote to something I love so difficult? And if they aren't bugging me, it's usually because I've snapped and fussed at them all. Then I feel massively guilty and keep thinking about the times when I'm missing them. Even now, I've just booted everyone out of the room and I'm writing this but at the back of my mind is the knowledge that the guys just got home from work and I need to get some supper started. How do successful writers do this? How do you balance it all? I would love to disappear in here and write for hours on end, only emerging to use the restroom and eat, but the guilt would swamp me...

Oh well, maybe being a successful writer isn't really in my future. It's not like I haven't done anything worthwhile with my life. I'm pretty proud of my kids and how they turned (continue to turn) out. Maybe successful mother is enough. *sigh* I wish it paid better...


Monday, September 14, 2009


and/or the lack thereof is my current thought. Actually I have this amazing love/hate relationship with routines. I rebel against the monotony of routine while at the same time craving the familiarity. Yes, it's quite the conundrum. I have never been, as my husband so aptly puts it, "a nine to five kinda girl". I despise Monday thru Friday jobs with set hours. That's why I worked retail for so long- the variety of shifts and no set schedules works much better for me. I completely rebel about doing the same thing everyday at the same time. If you'll notice...almost none of my blog posts are ever at the same time of day...they range throughout the day. I cannot keep a schedule. Which explains alot. I'm rarely punctual, my children were not always on time for school, in fact some days they didn't even show up, and I didn't last long at some of my jobs. Now, I suppose that some (okay, maybe alot) of individuals would see this as a problem. Maybe even a fault. But I prefer to think of it as creative, gypsy-like behavior. No, I'm not delusional, I just think outside the box. My spirit is not a square.

In fact, my family has made it work for us. The kids ended up being homeschooled and they've turned out really well. I know that some people in our lives (my parents, my husbands family) were a little worried when we decided to homeschool, at least in part due to my lack of scheduling discipline. But it worked. I'd done my homework. And my research actually backed me up. Not everyone can function in the routine 9-5 world. My youngest son certainly doesn't. He was bored spitless in school and did much better at home where I allowed him to work on schoolwork on his own schedule and research things driven by his own interest rather then a set plan. Did I mention that he's only 16 and will be starting college in January? My daughter preferred to get up and start school immediately and work til she was done. Fortunately, homeschooling allowed her to get up at 10 and then start. She turns 18 in two weeks...finished high school last December. She's currently taking some time to travel but is enrolled in her college program for next fall.

Now, homeschooling definitely isn't for everyone. First, (and no, I'm not bragging) you have to be relatively intelligent yourself. Second, you have to really (and I mean REALLY) like your children. Third, you have to commit the time and energy that it requires (and it's alot of both). I think it also worked well for us because we have intellectually motivated kids. And yes...they got plenty of socialization. They both had outside activities like scouts and dance. They went to camp, they worked at a camp for kids with disabilities, they went to homecomings, football games, basketball games, my daughter went to 3 proms. They really didn't miss anything, except the tediousness of sitting in a classroom for 6 hours everyday. Both have turned out incredibly well adjusted, intelligent, and mature for their age. And I can't take all the credit. Part of it goes to their father, friends of ours and to the kids themselves for choosing to make the most of the situation instead of using it to slack off.

Wow...I kind of rambled. That happens. But I guess to get back to what I was saying earlier...even though I loathe routines and schedules on a (I swear) molecular level, I find myself craving them every once in awhile. Times like these last few months, when everything has been hectic and up in the air, I've longed for them to settle down so that I could find some sort of predictability to my days. Maybe it's just a natural response to chaos, or maybe I'm getting old...


Friday, September 11, 2009 I took

a really long vacation! Sorry...but wow. It's just been hectic. First there was the surgery that didn't go well, then there was the packing for the vacation, then there was the actual vacation, and then there was the week of the infected incision, really bad cold & freakish wasp sting. See? I told you it had been hectic! But hopefully (and if anyone feels like crossing their fingers for me at this point please do so) things are on the mend and the cart is back on the track to normal. Or what passes for normal anyway.

So here are the things I've learned recently:

1. Never ever under any circumstances schedule surgery two weeks before a vacation regardless of how minor the doctor assures you it will be.

2. Never expect things to go exactly as you've planned them. (I know- you're thinking surely she already knew this?! And I did, I just forgot).

3. Wasp stings hurt really really badly. And my body reacts freakishly to them.

4. Having your incision slit open with a scalpel with no numbing agent also hurts really badly.

5. Your mother pouring bactine on a wound and bandaging it for you will make you feel like a five year old even when you're 39.

6. I may possibly have the worst luck of anyone I know.

But the good news is...I'm still alive, things will settle back down, and I killed the freakin wasp!!!

Happy weekend,