So, anyone that knows me knows that I am currently estranged from my brother and mother. This is only relevant in that something my brother has said to me amidst a 4 am text war several months back lingers in my head quite often. Rather than defend this accusation, I am constantly trying to explore it.
The text: "You have the wrong kind of pride, Khaki."
Okay, so I do not feel now is the time for a debate on our estrangement as it has nothing to do with this blog. That would lead to a chicken before the egg or vice versa kind of debate. With that said, I'm not sure that there is a right or wrong kind of pride. I do know that whatever my issue is...I'm not proud of it nor do I know how to correct it.
One thing I do not like to talk about with people is money. I am learning though that even those that look monetarily wealthy on the outside, aren't necessarily so. Or in some cases, they lack the riches that make someone a good person so monetary wealth is irrelevant.
I am a single mom. Duh, right? I live paycheck to paycheck. Even on paper, where things appear so much better than they really are, things are bleak. I did incur a large rent increase by moving into this house earlier this year but I don't regret it. I knew things would be tight. I knew it would prolong a situation of living paycheck to paycheck. It was worth it and still is. The boys and I had to get out of the apartment lifestyle. Honestly, while I love this little house and it is perfect for us at this time in our lives, I can't help but think of it as temporary. I can't help but drive through the "rich" neighborhoods and picture myself living there someday. I make sure not to post any pictures on instagram or facebook that actually show my house....why? Wrong kind of pride, maybe? At the end of the day it doesn't matter what my house looks like, right? My house is a cute 3 bedroom brick home in a nice subdivision in a great school district. Those superficial asses that think I'm less of a person or less of a mom that don't like my house that I'm "just renting" can kiss my ass, right? Why do I care? I do not receive any financial help. I do get child support and while I couldn't make ends meet without it, it also does NOT substantiate a sufficient lifestyle raising 3 boys. I make decent money, honestly. If I were single without dependents, I'd be doing pretty well. Back to paycheck to paycheck living....
I knew Christmas was going to be small. I had convinced the boys that Jesus only got 3 gifts and so would they. I had also sent a Christmas wish list to my former in-laws a mile long so as to capture all of their wants and had no idea they would buy damn near every single thing on it.
I get paid the 15th and the last day of the month. This last stretch was entirely too long. Long story short, the boys only got 2 gifts from me. I felt so bad after Christmas yesterday that at Walmart last night while grocery shopping, I got them each a little something. By little, I really mean little. Ky got a HALO lego dude. Kam got a new box of markers. Kasyn got a micro-nano car pack. Each thing was less than $5.
I won a $50 Visa gift card at the company Christmas party a few weeks ago. When I won and went up to the front, Jamie made sure to reach to the bottom of the stack and hand me one of the heftier gift cards. I know she did this on purpose. Joyce, a fellow coworker's name was called at the same time mine was and she got a $25 Randall's card. Anyway, here I am broke, juggling my bills, trying to manage disconnect notices as they come and find myself up against a wall. I hate December!! My dad was coming to Austin for Christmas and had heard that I had been a good girl this year and asked what I wanted. I told him that I wanted a grocery trip. Just a good ol' regular grocery trip would suffice. He wrote back, "No problem." I just assumed that when he hit town a day or two before the boys we'd go grocery shopping. I'd have food for the week that I'm home with the boys after New Year's. Besides, my birthday is late January so I can always wish for something greater then. Well, Dad didn't come to Austin. He wasn't feeling great and it had snowed. He just wanted to get back home. I instantly thought, "Omg, what about the groceries?" I told Dad it wasn't a big deal and I knew I would manage. I just wished I could retrieve that check to the electric company that I had dropped in the night drop the night before, damnit. If only I could get paid a few days early, grrrrrr. If only I was the recipient of some refund check that I had long forgotten about. Not the case. I had a debit card set up with the intent of starting to save some money. Each paycheck I have alotted $100 to this debit card. Well, I've had the damn thing for over a month and finally the direct deposit went through. Two days before payday, THANK YOU GOD! Woo-hoo, I'm rich. I have a $50 gift card and $100 on a debit card that I can go grocery shopping with. We just need breakfast foods, like a week's worth of dinners, snacks, and we should be good to go. I explained to the boys that they really do not need to distract me and that this is a small trip. So, Kyan and I are adding everything up as we go. We start to get to $90's before we even get halfway through the store. I don't so much care about entertainment money and am perfectly content in holing up in our house as long as there is food to eat. I start to think of what we can put back. There is this huge lump in my throat. I start to sweat. I get really short with the boys and as I take inventory of our cart, I don't know what to put back. Nothing is really a splurge or unnecessary. We buy store brands where we can as it is.
We make it to the dairy section and grab what few items are on my list. I start to do the math in my head, the last few aisles I've lost count. Kyan reminds me, "We're at $92. Kasyn, what's the number on that cheese?" Kasyn doesn't know. Ky gets mad at him and starts to yell, "We may not have money for your batteries. HOW MUCH IS THE CHEESE??" The only thing Kasyn wants to know is, "Is this the cheese that you can rip apart in strings." Me, sweating, I can hear my heartbeat in my head, noises all around seem muffled. Is this a panic attack? We go to the toy section where I have promised the boys a little token of a final Christmas present. Batteries for the track I got Kasyn are $6.87. Really? Almost $7 for batteries and I really only need 2, not 4. The boys get excited when they see a 4 pack of these little cars is on sale for half off. Well, that would be the better deal but I'm in panic mode and trying not to let the kids see it. I can only afford the 2 pack. Kasyn was an easy sell this time (whew)...not the usual. All boys have their token gifts in tow and I think, "Did I add that pot roast? Was that cheese $3.47 or $2.24?" Kasyn reminds me that we need a lightbulb for the stove. We go to the lightbulb aisle. How much is an appliance lightbulb? Almost $4? All of a sudden I feel like I am in the wrong era. Really, I don't need a lightbulb. We approach the checkout and I'm trying to find the cashier that looks most like an understanding, sympathetic, sweet old lady..just in case my math is off. I do not see one at all. I am in line behind a older couple and I'm almost paralyzed. I am sick. I want to vomit. My math isn't right. I just know it. The boys are talking about how they're going to crash their cars into each other on the 2nd loop of the track and how they can't wait to put the batteries in. I'm thinking, "Why did I buy that stupid track that takes friggin' batteries?"
Something comes over me and I pull out of line and start to walk away assuming the boys will follow. They don't. I said, "I forgot something, guys, come on." Ky stays in our place in line (about 3 people behind him) said, "We have enough stuff, Mom. We're already over $100 and we only have $150." A piece of me died inside. I marched onward. When we get to the meat freezer I lean down and whisper to Kyan not to say anything about our money out loud. That it embarrasses me. That we were at $142 last time I counted and I just think we should put something back before we get to the checkout with a million people staring at us. I start to cry. My eyes well up with tears. He has no idea why I'm sad. I wished we had never come to the store. I dig to the bottom of my cart and start to put the pot roast back, then the pork chops, then the hamburger meat. Ky said, "I wanted the roast. I'll eat the veggies too, Mom." I told him that I would make him a roast after payday. What he doesn't know is that this is payday and it has come and gone and this stuff has to last us awhile. He starts to offer to put other stuff in the cart back. He reaches for the Capri Sun. I said, "No, Kyan, that's $1.88. That can stay. This pot roast kit was almost $15, pork chops were almost $4, the hamburger meat was almost $5. I think we'll be okay now." He nods like he understands. The twins don't understand at all and Kasyn said something in that moment that made me want to break for the door. "We like that. We eat that at Daddy's."
My thought process, "FUCK DADDY AND HIS POT ROAST AND THE $60 A MONTH HE IS SHORT CHANGING ME BECAUSE HE LIED TO THE ATTORNEY GENERAL!! YOUR DAD HAS NO IDEA HOW MUCH IT COSTS TO SUPPORT THREE GROWING BOYS. FUCK DADDY AND HIS DUAL INCOME HOUSEHOLD!!! FUUUUUUCCCKKKKK DADDDDDDDYYYYYYY."
Ok, calm down, Khaki...Kasyn doesn't know his Daddy is a piece of shit. Those thoughts leave my head. Back to our very own version of Reverse Supermarket Sweep.....where instead of gathering the most expensive items and racing to the check-out, we put back the most expensive items and slowly make our way to the checkout.
Self check-out....here we go. I have never been a cashier. I'm a little slow and my hands are shaking. I'm still sweating. It is ridiculously cold outside, btw. No reason to be sweating. Ky is helping me unload the basket. Kasyn is jumping around and leaning on the bagging area making it yell at us and accuse us of not bagging half of our items. The hispanic older lady attendant cashier person has already come over to our register 4x. I felt like such poverty. I take a glance at the screen and we're at $101. Holy shit, how did this happen? Kyan looks at it and at me and whispers, "Almost done." I say, "Something is wrong. Please contain Kasyn right now!" As I pause and there is a line of about 5 people waiting for a vacant check-out. They're all staring at me. I can feel it. Having to holler at Kasyn is NOT diverting the attention from me. I keep picking priority stuff off the belt first but it's all priority stuff really. It's FOOD. Kyan says, "Mom, that's $151. We went over." I said, "It's okay. I know." I slip that garlic bulb back into a box of Trident on the gum shelf above me. We don't need garlic. I reach for my gift card and my debit card. I try the gift card first. It declines. My heart is racing. Ky is asking questions. I snap at him. People are waiting. The light is now flashing for the attendent to come over. It is clear that this lady cannot afford her groceries. I start to cry. I ask the lady where the gift card option is. She says you can't check out there, we have to checkout over here. I said, "Do you have to re-ring all of this stuff?" She says, "Yes, come with me." She cancels the transaction, we take our stuff over to another area. I want to die. I want the floor to swallow me whole. Why didn't I just grab a box of twinkies and a rotisserie chicken and worry about the week of food we need LATER?
She scans the barcode on the receipt and low and behold it all rings up by itself. Yeah, duh Khaki. It's almost 2013. Anyway, we were able to complete the transaction using the debit card and the gift card and to cover the $3.01 that was remaining, I used the stash of $2 bills in my wallet. Then we leave. Kasyn says, "That took too long!! Why are you sad, Mom?" Uncontrollable tears fell down my face. Ky grabs my hand, "Are you mad?" Through clinched teeth I say, "I just want to go home."
We unload and get settled and the boys are loving this racetrack (that is very loud when it has batteries) and shortly thereafter an hour or so, they fell asleep where they fell and I broke down on the couch praying that I would NEVER have to experience that again.
I was most recently conversing with a guy in San Antonio named Tim. We didn't even meet and he pissed me off royally. He made a comment about marrying him and him becoming a stay at home husband. He also made a comment unrealted to the aforementioned conversation about me finding a rich man or marrying my ex for money. I'm not sure what his intent on saying shit like that was and I'm sure it was in jest but deep down it pissed me off. Because you see, I have this pride issue....of the "wrong" kind....and despite my financial situation, I don't want ANYONE taking care of me but I'll be damned if I want to support someone else. I'm sure he is financially independent. I wish it didn't bother me so much. I realize that no one at that Walmart last night is thinking about that woman at the checkout lane who had to move all her stuff to require assistance at check-out nor do they know that I stashed a few dry goods amidst the gum because I was over my spend limit. I bet Kyan remembers it. I'm not sure if that's necessarily a bad thing though. If I am ever in a position to help out a legitimately struggling mom that is trying to do the right thing.....it just won't stretch enough, I will. For sure.
It shouldn't be this hard. I get tired of thinking about it and juggling. I'm counting down the days until I get my tax refund and can get caught up again. I hate this about me and a small piece of me thinks that if I blog about it, it will reveal a truth about me and help someone else or validate someone else's own issues. Whew. It won't be like this forever......it can't be like this forever.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Friends and Feedback Abound
Over the last 2 weeks I've realized again that I am surrounded by wondeful people. Its not that the negative spewing of someone builds me up or makes me feel better but after the demise of several encounters, you begin to have self doubt and these folks, however biased offered reassurance and alleviated that self doubt that was starting to creep in. These are the comments I've gotten back from those near and dear to me regarding the 227 mile issue. I was going to use initials but its just easier if I list them.
1) If its because he likes you so much, 300 miles could work. Sounds like he's taking the chicken shit route blaming distance even though he really likes you...which is stupid and doesn't make sense but boys are stupid and don't make sense.
2) It has you in a funk because its been awhile since you really were in a great relationship and the one you were in went to shit. You're tired of being alone and tired of fighting all of your battles without a co-captain. Not only does that happen, its totally normal and it's ok. Even ok to be mad about it (if you're mad). Yes, you're great and yes, you're beautiful, and yes, that's easy to say because we're related. But moreso because we are related, I'd tell you if you were effing stuff up royally or being an ass. I'm voting he's a douche. Just a different kind than you're used to.
3) I finally read the blog. You still have the ability to fall for someone. It's going to come together for you. Even if you have to wait for me to get my shit together. Its late, I'll talk to you later.
4) Sounds like a cop-out. He's either lying to you and blaming the distance because he can't be man enough to fight for what he wants or he's gay.
5) Think about it. Its black and white, Khaki. What we know is that you are a good Mama, smart, witty, gainfully employed, independent, beautiful, sexy, charismatic, outgoing, selfless. Now, if that package is not enough for this man, or worth fighting for, or driving for, good riddance. I mean, really. He'll spend the rest of his life single or settling. If that is too much for this man, good riddance as well because you deserve a stronger man than that. And shame on him for enticing you like that. That's a mindf*cking on a whole 'nother passive level. Ewww.
6) Find you an Aquarius man. That's the only sign that can successfully date its own sign. Watch how naturally he gets you with little having to be said. He may even be living next door to you instead of 227 miles away.
7) What is this guy thinking? 300 mi radius but not sure he can do the long distance thing?? That should've been a red flag right away. When I saw girls with that radius, that meant that they had tapped out their locale and had no other options...lol. Sounds to me like he was looking for something he wasn't ready for and got scared when he found it. Sounds familiar. I would let it ride and not put any effort into it. C'mon, Khakinator, Austin (population 800,000+) doesn't have enough dudes to offer you?
8) He may be using the time and distance as an excuse to let you down easy.
9) Khaki, it isn't you. I told you long ago that God also has to prepare the heart of the other person and your guy isn't prepared yet. God is still working on him or bringing him through something to get to you. Be patient.
10) What you need to do is laminate a 3x5 index card that reads in all caps, "MANCARD" and mail it to him. Move on. NEEEEEXXXT????
11) Ok, you do know that 1800 miles is really too far, right? I would totally date you if you were here or even 227 miles from me.
12) I don't know why you're upset, Khaki. Its not like you will have a hard time finding someone. Girls like you make me sick. You have this presence about you that exudes friendliness and happiness and everyone likes you. You mean to tell me you're in a funk because some guy is clueless?
And there are a few more but I can't find them in the masses that are my text messages. What's funny is that last month I had 6767 text messages. I think that's the most I've ever had. And I talked on the phone more than I ever have too.
I realized that it took me approximately 3 years (less than, actually) to get over a 13 year relationship/9 year marriage. I should be over 227 in a few weeks. I debate dating online again. I logged into my eHarmony account and was going to update it as its 2 years old and I didn't even get to it. I logged in and perused around trying to edit stuff and just wasn't feeling it so I logged off and I'm already getting emails. Icebreakers received, so and so sent me his questions. Honestly, it doesn't interest me at all. I think I need to cool down from 227 miles still. I know this is so retarded but I'm not ready to date someone. I'm hesitant now. My friend asked me today, "Is it because you are hoping 227 is over his 'time to think' and comes in on his white horse and saves the day? Or is it because you're just guarded because that last one threw you for a loop?"
Haha, I'd be lying if I didn't say a little of both. :-)
Goodnight.
Wide Awake by Katy Perry....do it. You know you want to.
1) If its because he likes you so much, 300 miles could work. Sounds like he's taking the chicken shit route blaming distance even though he really likes you...which is stupid and doesn't make sense but boys are stupid and don't make sense.
2) It has you in a funk because its been awhile since you really were in a great relationship and the one you were in went to shit. You're tired of being alone and tired of fighting all of your battles without a co-captain. Not only does that happen, its totally normal and it's ok. Even ok to be mad about it (if you're mad). Yes, you're great and yes, you're beautiful, and yes, that's easy to say because we're related. But moreso because we are related, I'd tell you if you were effing stuff up royally or being an ass. I'm voting he's a douche. Just a different kind than you're used to.
3) I finally read the blog. You still have the ability to fall for someone. It's going to come together for you. Even if you have to wait for me to get my shit together. Its late, I'll talk to you later.
4) Sounds like a cop-out. He's either lying to you and blaming the distance because he can't be man enough to fight for what he wants or he's gay.
5) Think about it. Its black and white, Khaki. What we know is that you are a good Mama, smart, witty, gainfully employed, independent, beautiful, sexy, charismatic, outgoing, selfless. Now, if that package is not enough for this man, or worth fighting for, or driving for, good riddance. I mean, really. He'll spend the rest of his life single or settling. If that is too much for this man, good riddance as well because you deserve a stronger man than that. And shame on him for enticing you like that. That's a mindf*cking on a whole 'nother passive level. Ewww.
6) Find you an Aquarius man. That's the only sign that can successfully date its own sign. Watch how naturally he gets you with little having to be said. He may even be living next door to you instead of 227 miles away.
7) What is this guy thinking? 300 mi radius but not sure he can do the long distance thing?? That should've been a red flag right away. When I saw girls with that radius, that meant that they had tapped out their locale and had no other options...lol. Sounds to me like he was looking for something he wasn't ready for and got scared when he found it. Sounds familiar. I would let it ride and not put any effort into it. C'mon, Khakinator, Austin (population 800,000+) doesn't have enough dudes to offer you?
8) He may be using the time and distance as an excuse to let you down easy.
9) Khaki, it isn't you. I told you long ago that God also has to prepare the heart of the other person and your guy isn't prepared yet. God is still working on him or bringing him through something to get to you. Be patient.
10) What you need to do is laminate a 3x5 index card that reads in all caps, "MANCARD" and mail it to him. Move on. NEEEEEXXXT????
11) Ok, you do know that 1800 miles is really too far, right? I would totally date you if you were here or even 227 miles from me.
12) I don't know why you're upset, Khaki. Its not like you will have a hard time finding someone. Girls like you make me sick. You have this presence about you that exudes friendliness and happiness and everyone likes you. You mean to tell me you're in a funk because some guy is clueless?
And there are a few more but I can't find them in the masses that are my text messages. What's funny is that last month I had 6767 text messages. I think that's the most I've ever had. And I talked on the phone more than I ever have too.
I realized that it took me approximately 3 years (less than, actually) to get over a 13 year relationship/9 year marriage. I should be over 227 in a few weeks. I debate dating online again. I logged into my eHarmony account and was going to update it as its 2 years old and I didn't even get to it. I logged in and perused around trying to edit stuff and just wasn't feeling it so I logged off and I'm already getting emails. Icebreakers received, so and so sent me his questions. Honestly, it doesn't interest me at all. I think I need to cool down from 227 miles still. I know this is so retarded but I'm not ready to date someone. I'm hesitant now. My friend asked me today, "Is it because you are hoping 227 is over his 'time to think' and comes in on his white horse and saves the day? Or is it because you're just guarded because that last one threw you for a loop?"
Haha, I'd be lying if I didn't say a little of both. :-)
Goodnight.
Wide Awake by Katy Perry....do it. You know you want to.
Nice Looking Pair of Kayaks...
Oh I'm so mad at myself right now. What started out as a friendly game of Frogger along I-35 tonight ended miserably at a Valero in some town called Jerrell. You know how when you travel along the highway with the same cars you kind of help each other out?That's what happened with me and this charcoal gray Toyota Tacoma with a trailer attached hauling two kayaks with two menin the cab. One elderly-ish and one that looked maybe my age or worst case 5 years older. Big rig cut me off, they slowed down, waved me in front of them. I tapped brakes at the sight of a State Trooper. As they pass, they wipe their brow as if to say thank you. This frogger like travel went on for a good 50-60 miles until I exited to get gas and they followed. I was about 40% excited, 10% freaked out, and 50% hoping they would keep driving. No, they didn't. Same gas station, same time, same pump. I started to pump the gas and the elderly-ish guy nodded and said, "Ma'am" as if to say hello in as few words as possible. Then I smiled and reciprocated with a nod and a, "Sir." Honestly, my TX accent couldn't have been worse. Almost exaggerated. I start the pump and go in to get a cup of ice. The other guy is rather nice looking, no wedding ring (which means jack sh*t these days), Camo baseball cap (I am a sucker for a baseball cap), jeans, t-shirt untucked, and he is smiling and almost staring. He's in line with me at the check out and he is in my bubble. I was there first so he is in violation. So, I lean in as if to brush him and say, "Nice looking pair of kayaks you got there." He busted out laughing so hard. I wanted to drop my ice and leave. He said, "Thank you, ma'am." Then I began to talk and honestly, I can't remember what I was saying....something about kayaking and Austin and while I love to kayak, I know NOTHING about them....but this bullcrap conversation would lead you to believe otherwise. I know nothing other than you rent them for $25/hr out at Town Lake and the fat girl has to always sit in the back. He paid for my ice. We both were laughing and smiling and I was weak in the knees and fumbled with gas pump as he mocked me to what I now know to be his father, "Pops, nice pair of kayaks you got there." I shook my head in disappointment, "Oh hush. You guys have a nice evening." Pops said to him, "She's cute." I know it wasn't a good thing. He winked and nodded and drove off into the sunset. I sat in my car cussing at myself and wondering why I don't keep my mouth shut sometimes. Damnit, Khaki. I will be single forever. I'm certain. And why was I talking like such a hick. OMG. I'm mortified. I either need to never leave my home or I need to get out more so I don't become socially inept like half the men I've dated in the past 6 months.
One more funny note, Kyan was trying to get big rigs on the way to Waco to honk. Out of the 12 we tried, we got 9 of them to cooperate. The ones that didn't, Kyan would say, "Smile at him, Mom. Smile so he can see you." I'm not sure his motives but it was cute nonetheless. I really didn't want them to go to Kevin's tonight. Not because of anything against Kevin. The past several weeks have just been really good. Sure, they've fought and we've had our moments but I'm no where NEAR stressed to the max like I was last summer at this time. I love how the boys were so excited to see Kevin and ran to his door and he didn't even get out. I held Kamdyn up to his window so he could give him the keychain we got him at Six Flags and a hug. Then Kevin said, "Get in, buckle up." I was like, wow. Almost as wowed as his response to me the other day when I asked him why he didn't call the boys, ever. "Dunno." I realized tonight standing next to him that I am completely over him. I noticed his wedding ring and it didn't phase me a bit. I look at him and see a stranger. I still have no idea why he sent me that song to listen to the other day. It was weird. I have no idea of the translation. If you just read the lyrics, you would think he was glad to be "free"...if you hear the song, male and female vocals as if that's me and Kev, it would translate that he misses me and was wrong. I just didn't respond. It doesn't matter what it meant or what he intended it to mean. We share children and live our lives so apart from one another its unreal we were even married for so long.
In less than a week we go on vacation. I'm stoked. I think I'll be able to mark off at least 3 or 4 things off my bucket list on this trip.
One more funny note, Kyan was trying to get big rigs on the way to Waco to honk. Out of the 12 we tried, we got 9 of them to cooperate. The ones that didn't, Kyan would say, "Smile at him, Mom. Smile so he can see you." I'm not sure his motives but it was cute nonetheless. I really didn't want them to go to Kevin's tonight. Not because of anything against Kevin. The past several weeks have just been really good. Sure, they've fought and we've had our moments but I'm no where NEAR stressed to the max like I was last summer at this time. I love how the boys were so excited to see Kevin and ran to his door and he didn't even get out. I held Kamdyn up to his window so he could give him the keychain we got him at Six Flags and a hug. Then Kevin said, "Get in, buckle up." I was like, wow. Almost as wowed as his response to me the other day when I asked him why he didn't call the boys, ever. "Dunno." I realized tonight standing next to him that I am completely over him. I noticed his wedding ring and it didn't phase me a bit. I look at him and see a stranger. I still have no idea why he sent me that song to listen to the other day. It was weird. I have no idea of the translation. If you just read the lyrics, you would think he was glad to be "free"...if you hear the song, male and female vocals as if that's me and Kev, it would translate that he misses me and was wrong. I just didn't respond. It doesn't matter what it meant or what he intended it to mean. We share children and live our lives so apart from one another its unreal we were even married for so long.
In less than a week we go on vacation. I'm stoked. I think I'll be able to mark off at least 3 or 4 things off my bucket list on this trip.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
227 miles
Today I had a conversation with two of my dearest friends at work, Mary and Susan. Mary is in her 40s and was a single mom for about 15 years. Her daughter is grown and she lives with her boyfriend. I tell her I have a date, she often says, "Oh Khaki, I'm so sorry." She gets it and everytime I've come in saying, "You're not going to believe this.." She tells me a parallel story. Susan on the other hand is 53 years old, widowed and is that lovable crazy cat lady. She cracks me up. As soon as I set my stuff down in the mornings, I can't wait to talk to Susan.
The conversation went like this:
Susan A: So, when is your next date?
Mary: You have a date?
Khaki: Did either of you watch the Bachelor last night?
Susan A: She's avoiding.
Mary: No, did you?
Khaki Yes, I watch that crap. It's funny. Its like the Travel Channel meets General Hospital. I love it. Do you know how many places I've added to my bucket list because of that show?
Susan A: Ugh, why?
Mary: OMG, Khaki, we have to get you on that show!!!! You would be so much fun. I would totally watch it if you were on that show.
Khaki: (scrunched up nose face) Riiiigghhhtt, I can see it now...Khaki in her purple miraclesuit with her board shorts and Nike baseball cap doing cannon balls while all the bikini clad bimbos squeal like pigs because I got their hair wet all competing for some entreprenuer that works out 5x a week and looks like Clark Kent. Ummm, no. Thanks though. Or maybe I should be offended you would even say that. I'm hoping to find someone someday but I'm not exactly in a hurry. Wait, is this before or after the network pays for my plastic surgery?
Susan and Mary: (laughing)
Mary: See, you would be great. You have the BEST personality and you are so pretty. I don't think I'd have the problems I did dating if I had had your personality. I don't get it, Khaki.
All too often I'm amidst great company of people that think I'm wonderful. I'm not sure that's exactly it. I mean, I'm a work in progress. I have my flaws. I'm well aware. The reason for alleged greatness is because I'm always aspiring to be more. More giving, more compassionate, more this, more that. I have motivation to succeed and am always learning. Insatiable? No. Salivating for more? Always.
The above intro was actually a blog I wrote many many months ago. I never posted it. I'm not sure why. I just didn't. In posting this new blog I was reading all of my unposted ones. Now, let me ADD to it as it sort of goes with what's on my mind now, almost a year later. Lately though, I've had this "If I'm so great then why can't/don't...."
My match.com update: CANCELLED. I cancelled it after 1700+ views to my profile, over 90 emails, I forget how many winks, and 10 likes to some photos I had on there. I even cancelled with 30 UNREAD emails. Why, you ask? Well, originally it was because I had met someone that caught my attention. This gentleman was just that....a gentleman. He was a bit reserved, divorced, father of 2 boys (same ages as mine +/-), introverted but funny, he seemed to have gotten my humor, very handsome, simple country boy, sweet natured, good hearted guy. We engaged in emails via the match.com site and then we moved to personal email accounts, then texts, phone, to meeting in person. I met him on June 11th for dinner. And without all the details of the cute dates or past few months, I will just say that we have a TON of inside jokes. I was really liking this guy. I considered even labeling it (if he had ever asked, that is). I know, shocker, right? I haven't had a "boyfriend" since March of 2010. I wanted everyone to know about him. I was excited and giddy. I was smiling stupid. I was constantly looking at my phone to see if he had text. When he did, I'd get a pang of butterflies. It was weird. It was nice. It was exciting. And now, its just friggin ridiculous. I'll spare you all the cutsy details of our inside jokes and our first kiss and conversations and dinners....and long walks on the beach. Ok, just kidding, no long walks on the beach. But still, I'll spare you because I'm pissed off. I'm confused, hurt, angry and just mad. I could feel some distance between us last weekend so I asked about it. His response was one that I was not prepared for. He basically said he couldn't handle the distance between us. That it wasn't me, I was great. (insert eye roll) I had it all. He just wants to be near me more and he knows that isn't possible. He can't go further with these feelings only for there to be greater hurt down the road. There are things about me that on paper would generally turn him off abuout women but some things I do or say that normally would bug him, don't. Example: cussing. (oops, my bad, insert work in progress) At any rate, explain to me how you can be on an online dating website or two or however many he was on trying to date and you open your search radius to 300 miles and when you do find someone fanfreakintastic that is smart, funny, pretty, outgoing, successful, an amazing mother, and then some....you say that 227 miles is too much? ESPECIALLY given YOU were the one that opened up the search radius, contacted ME first, and has even done long distance before. REALLY?!?!?!!? Who does that? Anyway, after a long email (too long and yes, Braden was right, I should've never sent the dang thing) and a few conversations on the phone, I feel foolish. I want to go back into my cave and relish in the fact that I am a proud single mother raising 3 young boys to be great men and will do so without love in my life. Love, is an exaggeration. I tend to do that sometimes. Oh look, there was an inside joke that me and Mr. 227 Miles had. Only as I type it, I'm not laughing. This happened last weekend and I've spent the majority of the week just ill. Like in the core of my gut, upset and in knots. I don't know why really. There are plenty of guys that want to date me. Part of me wants to go into nuture mode and teach him that its okay to like a chick. It's okay to have these "new" feelings and to roll with it. Part of me wants to just walk away and never see him again and hope that he wishes he hadn't done this.
I'm just bleh. My anger isn't entirely at Mr. 227 Miles. Its at me. Why was I on match.com again? What was I thinking? Why did I think this time or this guy would be different? Damnit, Khaki. Even at the fabulous birthday party I threw for Kyan this weekend, amidst all that excitement and fun...I would stop and have brief seconds of sadness, remembering my current relational state...or lack thereof. I told my friends of the situation and every single one of them said it was bizarre. That it didn't make sense and to walk away gracefully (my words, not theirs). And I'm really trying to. I get it that they're my friends and of course, would side with me but I really feel that some of them would shoot straight and tell me if it were me. David, Jen, Dana, Diane, Carly, Mandy, Misty, Jeri, Missy...all of them say the same thing. "WTF is wrong with that guy?"
Funny, today Diane took my kids away for a few hours to Jumpstreet. I didn't realize how much I needed a break from them until they were gone and the house was quiet. I wanted to collapse on the couch and nap, honestly. I didn't. I cleaned and did homework but I wanted to. I turned off all TVs and just sat in silence. I made a plate of turkey, crackers, and cheese and sat staring out the back door into the backyard watching the birds and squirrels and prayed. I'm not one to share my relationship with God but here's kind of how it went: "Okay, so you know what's on my heart and in my head. I'm confused and angry and sad. Am I staring at a closed door? Is another open that I'm unaware of? Is it just not my time? Did I do something wrong? Was I too upfront with who I am? Was I not enough of something? Is this a teaching opportunity to show him how to love again? (love being used loosley, mind you) What's the lesson for me here? Guide me on this because I need insight on this one...."
And you know, I'm quite impressed with Braden these days. Most days I think he's an ass but appreciate the laughter. I'll be the first to tell you that I'm more of a best friend to him than he is to me but he has called me every single day and with that genuine care and concern, checks up on me. In fact, just before dinner tonight he called to "check the status of the no call/no text Mr. 227 Miles project" which I am passing with flying colors. Yay me. :-/ 51 hours and it has NOT been easy. Tonight while taking my stats midterm, on the cover of my textbook what do I see? Wind turbines. What's Mr. 227 Miles' job....has to do with wind turbines. Why is he everywhere? We were only talking for a few months. We just kissed a handful of times. Why am I so ill over this? Stupid Khaki.
I'm off to bed....knowing deep down I can control my happiness and that it is a choice and that I am great. I will find someone when I'm supposed to and while it will require work...it'll be a no-brainer. Someone somewhere will think I'm equally great.
Ciao.
The conversation went like this:
Susan A: So, when is your next date?
Mary: You have a date?
Khaki: Did either of you watch the Bachelor last night?
Susan A: She's avoiding.
Mary: No, did you?
Khaki Yes, I watch that crap. It's funny. Its like the Travel Channel meets General Hospital. I love it. Do you know how many places I've added to my bucket list because of that show?
Susan A: Ugh, why?
Mary: OMG, Khaki, we have to get you on that show!!!! You would be so much fun. I would totally watch it if you were on that show.
Khaki: (scrunched up nose face) Riiiigghhhtt, I can see it now...Khaki in her purple miraclesuit with her board shorts and Nike baseball cap doing cannon balls while all the bikini clad bimbos squeal like pigs because I got their hair wet all competing for some entreprenuer that works out 5x a week and looks like Clark Kent. Ummm, no. Thanks though. Or maybe I should be offended you would even say that. I'm hoping to find someone someday but I'm not exactly in a hurry. Wait, is this before or after the network pays for my plastic surgery?
Susan and Mary: (laughing)
Mary: See, you would be great. You have the BEST personality and you are so pretty. I don't think I'd have the problems I did dating if I had had your personality. I don't get it, Khaki.
All too often I'm amidst great company of people that think I'm wonderful. I'm not sure that's exactly it. I mean, I'm a work in progress. I have my flaws. I'm well aware. The reason for alleged greatness is because I'm always aspiring to be more. More giving, more compassionate, more this, more that. I have motivation to succeed and am always learning. Insatiable? No. Salivating for more? Always.
The above intro was actually a blog I wrote many many months ago. I never posted it. I'm not sure why. I just didn't. In posting this new blog I was reading all of my unposted ones. Now, let me ADD to it as it sort of goes with what's on my mind now, almost a year later. Lately though, I've had this "If I'm so great then why can't/don't...."
My match.com update: CANCELLED. I cancelled it after 1700+ views to my profile, over 90 emails, I forget how many winks, and 10 likes to some photos I had on there. I even cancelled with 30 UNREAD emails. Why, you ask? Well, originally it was because I had met someone that caught my attention. This gentleman was just that....a gentleman. He was a bit reserved, divorced, father of 2 boys (same ages as mine +/-), introverted but funny, he seemed to have gotten my humor, very handsome, simple country boy, sweet natured, good hearted guy. We engaged in emails via the match.com site and then we moved to personal email accounts, then texts, phone, to meeting in person. I met him on June 11th for dinner. And without all the details of the cute dates or past few months, I will just say that we have a TON of inside jokes. I was really liking this guy. I considered even labeling it (if he had ever asked, that is). I know, shocker, right? I haven't had a "boyfriend" since March of 2010. I wanted everyone to know about him. I was excited and giddy. I was smiling stupid. I was constantly looking at my phone to see if he had text. When he did, I'd get a pang of butterflies. It was weird. It was nice. It was exciting. And now, its just friggin ridiculous. I'll spare you all the cutsy details of our inside jokes and our first kiss and conversations and dinners....and long walks on the beach. Ok, just kidding, no long walks on the beach. But still, I'll spare you because I'm pissed off. I'm confused, hurt, angry and just mad. I could feel some distance between us last weekend so I asked about it. His response was one that I was not prepared for. He basically said he couldn't handle the distance between us. That it wasn't me, I was great. (insert eye roll) I had it all. He just wants to be near me more and he knows that isn't possible. He can't go further with these feelings only for there to be greater hurt down the road. There are things about me that on paper would generally turn him off abuout women but some things I do or say that normally would bug him, don't. Example: cussing. (oops, my bad, insert work in progress) At any rate, explain to me how you can be on an online dating website or two or however many he was on trying to date and you open your search radius to 300 miles and when you do find someone fanfreakintastic that is smart, funny, pretty, outgoing, successful, an amazing mother, and then some....you say that 227 miles is too much? ESPECIALLY given YOU were the one that opened up the search radius, contacted ME first, and has even done long distance before. REALLY?!?!?!!? Who does that? Anyway, after a long email (too long and yes, Braden was right, I should've never sent the dang thing) and a few conversations on the phone, I feel foolish. I want to go back into my cave and relish in the fact that I am a proud single mother raising 3 young boys to be great men and will do so without love in my life. Love, is an exaggeration. I tend to do that sometimes. Oh look, there was an inside joke that me and Mr. 227 Miles had. Only as I type it, I'm not laughing. This happened last weekend and I've spent the majority of the week just ill. Like in the core of my gut, upset and in knots. I don't know why really. There are plenty of guys that want to date me. Part of me wants to go into nuture mode and teach him that its okay to like a chick. It's okay to have these "new" feelings and to roll with it. Part of me wants to just walk away and never see him again and hope that he wishes he hadn't done this.
I'm just bleh. My anger isn't entirely at Mr. 227 Miles. Its at me. Why was I on match.com again? What was I thinking? Why did I think this time or this guy would be different? Damnit, Khaki. Even at the fabulous birthday party I threw for Kyan this weekend, amidst all that excitement and fun...I would stop and have brief seconds of sadness, remembering my current relational state...or lack thereof. I told my friends of the situation and every single one of them said it was bizarre. That it didn't make sense and to walk away gracefully (my words, not theirs). And I'm really trying to. I get it that they're my friends and of course, would side with me but I really feel that some of them would shoot straight and tell me if it were me. David, Jen, Dana, Diane, Carly, Mandy, Misty, Jeri, Missy...all of them say the same thing. "WTF is wrong with that guy?"
Funny, today Diane took my kids away for a few hours to Jumpstreet. I didn't realize how much I needed a break from them until they were gone and the house was quiet. I wanted to collapse on the couch and nap, honestly. I didn't. I cleaned and did homework but I wanted to. I turned off all TVs and just sat in silence. I made a plate of turkey, crackers, and cheese and sat staring out the back door into the backyard watching the birds and squirrels and prayed. I'm not one to share my relationship with God but here's kind of how it went: "Okay, so you know what's on my heart and in my head. I'm confused and angry and sad. Am I staring at a closed door? Is another open that I'm unaware of? Is it just not my time? Did I do something wrong? Was I too upfront with who I am? Was I not enough of something? Is this a teaching opportunity to show him how to love again? (love being used loosley, mind you) What's the lesson for me here? Guide me on this because I need insight on this one...."
And you know, I'm quite impressed with Braden these days. Most days I think he's an ass but appreciate the laughter. I'll be the first to tell you that I'm more of a best friend to him than he is to me but he has called me every single day and with that genuine care and concern, checks up on me. In fact, just before dinner tonight he called to "check the status of the no call/no text Mr. 227 Miles project" which I am passing with flying colors. Yay me. :-/ 51 hours and it has NOT been easy. Tonight while taking my stats midterm, on the cover of my textbook what do I see? Wind turbines. What's Mr. 227 Miles' job....has to do with wind turbines. Why is he everywhere? We were only talking for a few months. We just kissed a handful of times. Why am I so ill over this? Stupid Khaki.
I'm off to bed....knowing deep down I can control my happiness and that it is a choice and that I am great. I will find someone when I'm supposed to and while it will require work...it'll be a no-brainer. Someone somewhere will think I'm equally great.
Ciao.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Bitchology 101
I don't even know where to start. First let me vent about my day and then I'll get to the juicy stuff.
So, I take Ky and Kasyn in for their fillings today. I let Kam skip school too. I've got a boy in 2 rooms. There I go back and forth to comfort and alleviate the fears of each of them. And really, I need to pee so bad that the rain tapping on the window of the dental room is more than unwelcomed. There's nothing like being a mother and having the opportunity to truly rescue or comfort your child. Its in those moments you know your purpose and value. I know my kids better than anyone. I'd even go as far as saying I know them better than their father. When I looked at Kyan as they were lowering the chair, I could see fear. We just looked at each other and our gaze did not break until they put the mask over his face. His hands were clinched on the chair and I slid my two fingers in his grasp. His legs instantly relaxed. Then I see the dentist go into Kasyn's room. "Oh shit, Kasyn!" I call for Kamdyn to come sit with Kyan. I go have the EXACT same experience that I just had with Kyan in Kasyn's room. With Kyan, I learned that he is still such a little guy. I sometimes think I put too much weight on his little shoulders asking him to do too much or to step up when I don't ask the same of his twin brothers. I learned that Kasyn is the opposite. Not quite the baby that I think he is. He had the same fear and locked eyes with me but he nodded at me like, "I'm good, Mom." He did ask where Kamdyn (his twin) was and that was cute. I finally did slip out and go to the restroom. So, after a track meet of back and forths between the two rooms, we're almost done. Kyan doesn't feel well. I can tell he's very odd looking, clammy, tearful, and starts to reach for me. The nurse won't let him off the oxygen. I sat with him. I put his flip flops back on and stroked his arm letting him know I was there. He threw the mask off and climbed into my lap. The nurse said it was fine and we joined Kamdyn and Kasyn in his room. Kasyn sits up and starts to wimper and then Kyan falls down over the chair and onto my lap. Kamdyn turns to the sink and pukes. Me and the nurse are distraught and look at each other like WTF?!?!? I scoop up Kyan she puts him on oxygen and with a cold rag, Sprite, and goldfish. I take Kasyn and am having him suck on a rag (he bit a chunk out of his tongue) and I have Kam laying on the floor refusing to get up. After our moments to collect ourselves we make it to the car. It's pouring COLD rain. There is a nice stream in the parking lot. It is inevitable we're going to get wet. I don't care, just get me home. I have them hang onto my shirt, purse, pants pocket as we bolt to the car. Kyan loses his flip flops and they take off in that stream. He goes after them despite that I'm yelling at him that we'll buy more. Kasyn is trying to catch rain in his mouth. Kamdyn is whining because the rain is cold and "hurting" him. Shoot me. We are beyond Calgon. This is my day off. This is what I save PTO days for. Shoot me twice. Things calm down as we get closer to home and I realize its lunch time. We need to eat. We stop and eat at IHOP. I just signed the check and look at Kasyn who has blood all over his face and its in his mouth. Calmly, I hand Kyan my phone, move Kamdyn to his side of the booth and tell Kasyn we're going to the bathroom. I tell Kyan to play with my phone and don't move. I gave the waitress that look that says, "We have issues, I need a sec, be right back." Kasyn is terrified of blood. I sat him on the counter in the bathroom. I ask him to spit in the sink. I winced. He looked at me and asked if that was the strawberry syrup he used on his pancakes. I laugh. "Yeah Bud, but its all over your mouth." He says, "It tastes like blood." I laugh again. Anyway, I get him all cleaned up from what would look like he ate shards of glass to a little boy sucking on a nasty dried brown papertowel. And we depart only to embark on a trip to Half Price Books where my oldest son is glad to be alive and Target where I finally got those Converse I wanted.
Converse. $34.99 one star All Star Converse, grey, size 9.5 that I have wanted for almost a year. Yes, I'm THAT simple. You know what else is on my "wish list"...ripped jeans. I can't find them anywhere. Not that fit right anyway. But I would say I'm a ripped jeans and Converse type of girl, yes. Now, my closest friends may convict me by saying this purchase was a result of reading Fifty Shades of Grey (not mommy porn....okay, maybe it is...maybe I don't care) because the main character is a cons and jeans kind of girl...eh, whatever.
So with that segway, let me let you in on what the last 9 days of online dating have been like. DO NOT JUDGE ME. Yeah, online dating. How in the hell else am I supposed to meet someone? HEB? No. Chuck E. Cheese? No. Traffic on MoPac as I cruise the streets in my minvan? Umm, no. A bar? Smh.
So, I had some decent luck the last time I was on match.com. No regrets really. I feel the email exchanges weed out and save some time. I saw a commercial one lonely Saturday and said, "WTH?" I saw on said commercial that you could search for free and I thought, okay. Let's just see what's out there. Well you have to set up a damn profile first. Okay, load some fabulous pics, write a lil jig about how great I am and what I'm looking for, done. Now, search.
Searching....still looking. After a few hours, I'm thinking this is not good. Cute faces but really, am thinking these men do not have friends. Definitely not chick friends because I would tell Braden and Erich in about 2 seconds NOT to EVER take or post a picture of themselves shirtless in a bathroom mirror. Or ever buy Affliction anything. That SCREAMS, "Hello, I'm a douchebag. See me now?" I went to bed that evening so glad I didn't pay for the membership and it only confirmed my contentedness in my singledom.
Oh but what's this..as my email pings...."He's Interested!" I can't view his profile because I now am presented with the option to pay/subscribe. I go back to sleep. Before I know it, my profile has been viewed over 156 times and I have 20 something "He's Interested" and a few emails pending. OMG, Khaki is getting attention. I'm giddy. I'm excited. Who likes me? What are they saying? What the hell does a wink mean?
After 2 more days of this I cave. I succumb to the wonderland that isn't Match.com. Ha! I don't know where to start. Winks, matches, interesteds, viewed me's, or emails....
Emails. Ok, so I have one guy that is easy on the eyes in a Vanilla Ice kind of way. Looks about 25 and reminds me of my waiter at Waterloo so much that I laugh and click his profile. Ohhhh, he's 37. okay. This DB proceeds to give me a "You are gorgeous. I would love to chat with you sometime" email. I write back, "Thanks for the compliment" and then I get, "I hope you are as sexy as you are sexual. How big are your nipples? I love big nipples. If you're free this weekend, I'd love to explore your body more. I'm sorry if that's too forward. I like sex. I think we are all physical beings. Why waste time with all this emailing? Let's cut to the chase." To which I respond, "Oh wow, I didn't expect that. Have you tried Plenty of Fish? I hear its great for those kinds of hook-ups but please, do tell, surely you haven't EVER gotten a response to this shit??" Then he asks me for pics and I tell him I'm not THAT girl. Now, I haven't heard from him in 4 days. Thank you.
Next guy: "Has kids but they do not live at home (2)" ...oh even better...he can understand what I clearly stated in my profle as "must understand my schedule"....his profile is witty and sarcastic but kind of dark feeling. In the back of my mind I wonder why he's divorced. He writes something odd and I write a snarly response back. He engages for a few days and after about 3 emails is asking me when my next kidfree weekends are....because if I don't go on a date with him soon, I "will have to wait until September"....uhmm, bullshit. I am not waiting for shit, actually. So, I blow him off. Whatever. He still sends me emails asking about my day and his humor has lightened and he seems eager....but I'm not.
Then there was this really sweet guy but after talking to some of my closest friends about my red flags or vibes I got from him....we decided he was too eager. And it made me uncomfortable. If I don't text you back immediately, you do not need to send the search party or ask me if everything is okay. Yes, its 845 in the morning. I responded to you as I was getting on the elevator and now I'm conversing with all my coworkers while we wait for coffee to brew about how lame my weekend was. I sent him an email letting him know this bothered me (among other things) which is a first for me. Boundaries. Check.
One guy named Caleb could be my newest best friend. He has the best profile. He's 5'11", brown eyes, looks like Keanu Reeves if you squint your eyes, is military (Army), but his profile goes like this, "I'm 6ft 2 inches, 2 years older than you, piercing blue eyes, your mother loves me" and it goes on from there with all the things one would hope to be the "Perfect" profile when really, it isn't like him at all. It made me laugh so hard. I read it twice and emailed him how funny it was. We text and are clearly friends. He is 27 and wants kids but on the selection where it says if its okay if your partner has kids he says No. He's not an option for me but we texted back and forth last night about what kind of feedback I was getting on there. He assumed my inbox was flooded and that I was probably booked with dates through July. I informed him otherwise. He couldn't believe it AND apologized on behalf of the male species. It was cute/funny.
I see a TON of "Never Married" and in their 30s which I find kind of odd. Not that I want to jump into some dude's baggage but wow....and if I have to read "I like to workout" one more time, I may scream. Or, "I work hard but play harder"..... Sure, there is some definite eye candy on there but uhm, why do you allocate an entire paragraph narrating your gym schedule. I don't know, it just seems a little high maintenance. Definitely not a ripped jeans and converse type guy....if you know me, you know I can totally bring sexy back too when necessary but this stuff is cuh-razy. Do not envy me right now.
Hindsight is 20/20 and I think I'm content in...oh wait, my phone just pinged. I have a match.com notification...wait for it....omg, I don't even get a tinge of excitement anymore. It's Vanilla Ice asking, "So, you wanna meet up or what?" Part of me wants to snap back with a raging feminist response but I'll refrain. I wrote, "No thanks."
I'm good. This solidifies my contentedness in waiting....forever....as I take two more fig newtons out of my pantry and scuffle to bed in my unmatched yoga pants that have never been worn to yoga and my shir that is way too big....because I can. Because I'm not worried about having obligatory coffee with some meat head that works out 5 or more times a week wearing an Affliction shirt taking pics of himself in his bathroom mirror....who has his shorts draped over the shower curtain rod.
Yep, all good. :-)
So, I take Ky and Kasyn in for their fillings today. I let Kam skip school too. I've got a boy in 2 rooms. There I go back and forth to comfort and alleviate the fears of each of them. And really, I need to pee so bad that the rain tapping on the window of the dental room is more than unwelcomed. There's nothing like being a mother and having the opportunity to truly rescue or comfort your child. Its in those moments you know your purpose and value. I know my kids better than anyone. I'd even go as far as saying I know them better than their father. When I looked at Kyan as they were lowering the chair, I could see fear. We just looked at each other and our gaze did not break until they put the mask over his face. His hands were clinched on the chair and I slid my two fingers in his grasp. His legs instantly relaxed. Then I see the dentist go into Kasyn's room. "Oh shit, Kasyn!" I call for Kamdyn to come sit with Kyan. I go have the EXACT same experience that I just had with Kyan in Kasyn's room. With Kyan, I learned that he is still such a little guy. I sometimes think I put too much weight on his little shoulders asking him to do too much or to step up when I don't ask the same of his twin brothers. I learned that Kasyn is the opposite. Not quite the baby that I think he is. He had the same fear and locked eyes with me but he nodded at me like, "I'm good, Mom." He did ask where Kamdyn (his twin) was and that was cute. I finally did slip out and go to the restroom. So, after a track meet of back and forths between the two rooms, we're almost done. Kyan doesn't feel well. I can tell he's very odd looking, clammy, tearful, and starts to reach for me. The nurse won't let him off the oxygen. I sat with him. I put his flip flops back on and stroked his arm letting him know I was there. He threw the mask off and climbed into my lap. The nurse said it was fine and we joined Kamdyn and Kasyn in his room. Kasyn sits up and starts to wimper and then Kyan falls down over the chair and onto my lap. Kamdyn turns to the sink and pukes. Me and the nurse are distraught and look at each other like WTF?!?!? I scoop up Kyan she puts him on oxygen and with a cold rag, Sprite, and goldfish. I take Kasyn and am having him suck on a rag (he bit a chunk out of his tongue) and I have Kam laying on the floor refusing to get up. After our moments to collect ourselves we make it to the car. It's pouring COLD rain. There is a nice stream in the parking lot. It is inevitable we're going to get wet. I don't care, just get me home. I have them hang onto my shirt, purse, pants pocket as we bolt to the car. Kyan loses his flip flops and they take off in that stream. He goes after them despite that I'm yelling at him that we'll buy more. Kasyn is trying to catch rain in his mouth. Kamdyn is whining because the rain is cold and "hurting" him. Shoot me. We are beyond Calgon. This is my day off. This is what I save PTO days for. Shoot me twice. Things calm down as we get closer to home and I realize its lunch time. We need to eat. We stop and eat at IHOP. I just signed the check and look at Kasyn who has blood all over his face and its in his mouth. Calmly, I hand Kyan my phone, move Kamdyn to his side of the booth and tell Kasyn we're going to the bathroom. I tell Kyan to play with my phone and don't move. I gave the waitress that look that says, "We have issues, I need a sec, be right back." Kasyn is terrified of blood. I sat him on the counter in the bathroom. I ask him to spit in the sink. I winced. He looked at me and asked if that was the strawberry syrup he used on his pancakes. I laugh. "Yeah Bud, but its all over your mouth." He says, "It tastes like blood." I laugh again. Anyway, I get him all cleaned up from what would look like he ate shards of glass to a little boy sucking on a nasty dried brown papertowel. And we depart only to embark on a trip to Half Price Books where my oldest son is glad to be alive and Target where I finally got those Converse I wanted.
Converse. $34.99 one star All Star Converse, grey, size 9.5 that I have wanted for almost a year. Yes, I'm THAT simple. You know what else is on my "wish list"...ripped jeans. I can't find them anywhere. Not that fit right anyway. But I would say I'm a ripped jeans and Converse type of girl, yes. Now, my closest friends may convict me by saying this purchase was a result of reading Fifty Shades of Grey (not mommy porn....okay, maybe it is...maybe I don't care) because the main character is a cons and jeans kind of girl...eh, whatever.
So with that segway, let me let you in on what the last 9 days of online dating have been like. DO NOT JUDGE ME. Yeah, online dating. How in the hell else am I supposed to meet someone? HEB? No. Chuck E. Cheese? No. Traffic on MoPac as I cruise the streets in my minvan? Umm, no. A bar? Smh.
So, I had some decent luck the last time I was on match.com. No regrets really. I feel the email exchanges weed out and save some time. I saw a commercial one lonely Saturday and said, "WTH?" I saw on said commercial that you could search for free and I thought, okay. Let's just see what's out there. Well you have to set up a damn profile first. Okay, load some fabulous pics, write a lil jig about how great I am and what I'm looking for, done. Now, search.
Searching....still looking. After a few hours, I'm thinking this is not good. Cute faces but really, am thinking these men do not have friends. Definitely not chick friends because I would tell Braden and Erich in about 2 seconds NOT to EVER take or post a picture of themselves shirtless in a bathroom mirror. Or ever buy Affliction anything. That SCREAMS, "Hello, I'm a douchebag. See me now?" I went to bed that evening so glad I didn't pay for the membership and it only confirmed my contentedness in my singledom.
Oh but what's this..as my email pings...."He's Interested!" I can't view his profile because I now am presented with the option to pay/subscribe. I go back to sleep. Before I know it, my profile has been viewed over 156 times and I have 20 something "He's Interested" and a few emails pending. OMG, Khaki is getting attention. I'm giddy. I'm excited. Who likes me? What are they saying? What the hell does a wink mean?
After 2 more days of this I cave. I succumb to the wonderland that isn't Match.com. Ha! I don't know where to start. Winks, matches, interesteds, viewed me's, or emails....
Emails. Ok, so I have one guy that is easy on the eyes in a Vanilla Ice kind of way. Looks about 25 and reminds me of my waiter at Waterloo so much that I laugh and click his profile. Ohhhh, he's 37. okay. This DB proceeds to give me a "You are gorgeous. I would love to chat with you sometime" email. I write back, "Thanks for the compliment" and then I get, "I hope you are as sexy as you are sexual. How big are your nipples? I love big nipples. If you're free this weekend, I'd love to explore your body more. I'm sorry if that's too forward. I like sex. I think we are all physical beings. Why waste time with all this emailing? Let's cut to the chase." To which I respond, "Oh wow, I didn't expect that. Have you tried Plenty of Fish? I hear its great for those kinds of hook-ups but please, do tell, surely you haven't EVER gotten a response to this shit??" Then he asks me for pics and I tell him I'm not THAT girl. Now, I haven't heard from him in 4 days. Thank you.
Next guy: "Has kids but they do not live at home (2)" ...oh even better...he can understand what I clearly stated in my profle as "must understand my schedule"....his profile is witty and sarcastic but kind of dark feeling. In the back of my mind I wonder why he's divorced. He writes something odd and I write a snarly response back. He engages for a few days and after about 3 emails is asking me when my next kidfree weekends are....because if I don't go on a date with him soon, I "will have to wait until September"....uhmm, bullshit. I am not waiting for shit, actually. So, I blow him off. Whatever. He still sends me emails asking about my day and his humor has lightened and he seems eager....but I'm not.
Then there was this really sweet guy but after talking to some of my closest friends about my red flags or vibes I got from him....we decided he was too eager. And it made me uncomfortable. If I don't text you back immediately, you do not need to send the search party or ask me if everything is okay. Yes, its 845 in the morning. I responded to you as I was getting on the elevator and now I'm conversing with all my coworkers while we wait for coffee to brew about how lame my weekend was. I sent him an email letting him know this bothered me (among other things) which is a first for me. Boundaries. Check.
One guy named Caleb could be my newest best friend. He has the best profile. He's 5'11", brown eyes, looks like Keanu Reeves if you squint your eyes, is military (Army), but his profile goes like this, "I'm 6ft 2 inches, 2 years older than you, piercing blue eyes, your mother loves me" and it goes on from there with all the things one would hope to be the "Perfect" profile when really, it isn't like him at all. It made me laugh so hard. I read it twice and emailed him how funny it was. We text and are clearly friends. He is 27 and wants kids but on the selection where it says if its okay if your partner has kids he says No. He's not an option for me but we texted back and forth last night about what kind of feedback I was getting on there. He assumed my inbox was flooded and that I was probably booked with dates through July. I informed him otherwise. He couldn't believe it AND apologized on behalf of the male species. It was cute/funny.
I see a TON of "Never Married" and in their 30s which I find kind of odd. Not that I want to jump into some dude's baggage but wow....and if I have to read "I like to workout" one more time, I may scream. Or, "I work hard but play harder"..... Sure, there is some definite eye candy on there but uhm, why do you allocate an entire paragraph narrating your gym schedule. I don't know, it just seems a little high maintenance. Definitely not a ripped jeans and converse type guy....if you know me, you know I can totally bring sexy back too when necessary but this stuff is cuh-razy. Do not envy me right now.
Hindsight is 20/20 and I think I'm content in...oh wait, my phone just pinged. I have a match.com notification...wait for it....omg, I don't even get a tinge of excitement anymore. It's Vanilla Ice asking, "So, you wanna meet up or what?" Part of me wants to snap back with a raging feminist response but I'll refrain. I wrote, "No thanks."
I'm good. This solidifies my contentedness in waiting....forever....as I take two more fig newtons out of my pantry and scuffle to bed in my unmatched yoga pants that have never been worn to yoga and my shir that is way too big....because I can. Because I'm not worried about having obligatory coffee with some meat head that works out 5 or more times a week wearing an Affliction shirt taking pics of himself in his bathroom mirror....who has his shorts draped over the shower curtain rod.
Yep, all good. :-)
Monday, January 2, 2012
My two cents...is worth a lot
So, I welcome 2012 with open arms, I really do. 2011 had its ups and downs for me but overall I'd call it a mediocre year at best. I learned a lot about me this past year. I also learned a lot about how other people see me. Lately, I've been on this running binge. I say binge because I'm sure it won't last. It never does. Its not even a New Year's resolution. I tend to be an over-analyzer and can't get my head to shut up so in an effort to quiet down the chatter, I run. That's all it is. I put on my headphones and hope something speaks to me, distracts me....or hell, that some hot guy in a Jeep is thinking "Heeyyy Baby" and stops to take me to dinner. Omg, totally kidding. I just totally admire those people that can hit the pavement effortlessly and run like gazelles. I mean, I huff and I puff when I run...mouth open and my throat burns from sucking in the cold air. Yeah, its not cute but it feels good. When I'm done, it feels really great.
Since November strange things have happened to me. I say strange but other people roll their eyes at that. I feel that people have been overly generous and kind lately. I'm not one to kick a gift horse in the mouth but really it puzzles me. Because of my innate need to analyze every single who, why, how and what, I have spent the majority of the past two months trying to figure out why certain people are so nice to me. I think I figure if things get too good or are going too well, I'll get sucker punched with something far worse than all the greatness combined on a polar level. Skeptic? Cynic? Overly cautious? Paranoid? Crazy? Perhaps all of the above.
At any rate, let me let you in on my today. My planning for today had actually started last night. Sitting all day in my apartment after my NYE at the cabin and catching up on some much needed rest and relaxtion (sans children), reading and watching television, I decided that I needed to get out and about today. So, the issues weighing down my thoughts here of late involve a situation with a boy. I'm not going into details about who this boy is. If you know me, you know who it is. Strike that, if your name is Carly, you know who the boy is. If you don't, you don't need to. At any rate, I can't figure this species out. Who is the closest person I can talk to that would help alleviate this puzzle? My brother, Quincy. Quincy, the eternal bachelor. If anyone can explain why some dude is being a complete idiot or douchebag its probably Quincy. Not because he is one but because he has that wiring.
I decided to go to the driving range with my brother. Learning to golf is on my bucket list and has been. I have my mom's starter set of clubs, shoes, etc. so I have no reason not to go. I actually like the driving range. And while I have 2 golf pros within reach, I needed some time with my brother. I rarely am around him without my boys and they hog all of his attention. Q accepted my invite. So, we decided on noonish to meet at Mister Tee and we did. We were there for almost 2 hours. I know I read too much into everything and while I don't make New Year's resolutions I do have a list of things I'd like to change or tweak or modify about me. Lesson from the driving range: When swinging a club, it is more natural for me to swing it more like a baseball bat hitting a baseball. Ironically, and in the same breath as that last statement, when I don't think about all the things put into a golf swing, I actually made contact with the ball and would even go as far to say it was "good"...On my drive home, that echoed in my brain, "...as unnatural as it is, stop thinking and it becomes natural..."
I didn't really get to chat with my brother about the issues that were weighing my head down so much here lately and realized that I didn't even think about those issues while at the range. So, it was a great distraction. But upon departure, a truck pulled in the parking lot....the same kind of truck that "he" drives. Ok, Khaki, you're retarded. This is enough. "Hey Q, wanna go to Chikfila for lunch?" And he did. So off we went and we discussed said issues and I realized that I was correct. It really isn't about me. Its him....the dude. And that perhaps I should just "Let it Go" and go and not take things so personally sometimes. Note: I'm a work in progress.
So, I am heading home from all that golfing and decide that while I consumed the most unhealthy choice at Chikfila (chicken strips with mayonaise and polynesian sauce and waffle fries dipped in the same) it may not be a bad idea to knock out a few miles....or 3 before I get inside and lay down and either fall asleep or the soreness from my swinging sets in and I start making excuses not to run. I grab my headphones and start to run. I ran really hard after my .10th of a mile warm-up. I was feeling good. Rihanna was jamming out and I was bringing sexy back....all was right with the world until all of a sudden after mile 2, I felt this horrible burn in the back of my throat and I couldn't even spit to make it better. Yeah, I tried. Gross, I know. Get over the visual already. So, I'm walking up the hill and feel like instead of overkill on the exercise today, its time to go in and focus on the relax part of my day. I don't normally cut through the entrance over by the leasing office but I did to see if the office was opened because I need to drop off rent. I always like going in and talking to Orion if he's working. I saw an elderly woman walking with a cane who looked beyond frustrated. She is trying to walk up the stair but there is no railing. And she's grasping for it and shuffling her feet but cannot make her legs lift to take that step. I kind of panicked for a second and ran over to her for fear she may fall. She was alone. I offered her my arm to help her up the steps and she is yelling at me. Not out of anger towards me but out of frustration because, "Everytime he leaves, things just fall apart. The kitchen sink is about to flood the apartment and he's not home. I need them to come fix it. I have no water. My TV is out and he's going to have to call someone to fix it. Oh why does the world fall apart when he leaves? He's on that cruise with her and left me here. Oh, oh, oh. I don't know what to do!!!!!!!" Immediately, a smile so big consumes my face and I could not be more eager to alleviate all that is going through this woman's mind. Like almost a feeling of "Thank you, God...for picking me on this one."
Now, I love people. I love old people. I love young people. I love helping people...I think I was put on this planet to first, be a mother. Second, to help people. That's why I'm torn at my job right now. I love the people I do have the privelege to help and interact with dearly but that is only about 10% of my job. The other 90% is producing financials which means being married to Excel and Access and well, not my idea of a dream job.
So, the leasing office is closed. I have my cell phone and I call the emergency number and leave a message with the service. This woman has no phone number though. I can't give a call back number for her because she said, "He took his phone and I don't know how to use the phone." And in my mind, I'm wondering who the hell is "he" and what was he thinking leaving this woman alone. Good gravy!!
If there's anyone on the entire apartment complex that has the direct number to the maintenance guy, Dwayne, its probably me. Sidenote, Kasyn has clogged our toilet with more superheroes than I can even count. Dwayne is one of 5 boys raised by a single mother and he told me one time that watching me handle my boys makes him call his mom and thank her. I live behind the leasing office where the maintenance golf carts often gather in the mornings. Dwayne has helped me unload groceries, let us swim after hours with the boys, fixed things in my apt on the sly without a formal request to the office, etc. Oh Miss Cornelia, do not worry. I can help you.
I called Dwayne and he said he would be over in a second. The lady, named Cornelia, did know her apartment number. So, off we scuffle, back to her apartment. Umm, her apartment was a nice big fat zig zag away from mine/leasing office. At the pace we walked, I'm guessing it took her an hour to get there. I cut through breezeways. She did not.
The whole walk back she is still panicked over being left alone. It crossed my mind on the way back if I her sink was really flooding. I have an 85 year old grandmother that lives with my mother and I have the privelege of watching from time to time. I get it. I learned from Miss Cornelia that she was born on March 20th and that "every March 20th is a splendid Spring day"...I refrained from telling her that last March 20th it was a cold dreary snowy day. I only remember this because it was the first time my twins saw snow. She asked me my name. Rather than get into all the complications of a name like Khaki....I simply told her my name was Kady. My initials are KD and my dad used to call me Kady. My name was really irrelevant. It worked. She paused and told me that I was an angel. She kept pinching my arm and asking if I was real. I told her about my three boys. Several times she insisted that she was too much trouble and interrupting my day and that I should just leave her. I refused and told her that she had no idea how happy I was to have met her and there is no place I'd rather be than walking with her back to her apartment. She cried. I found out that her son was on a cruise with his girlfriend. She didn't like his girlfriend. And his girlfriend "isn't even half as pretty as you are Kady"...(insert shaking head and smile). Aha, we make it to her apartment and she cannot use the key on her wrist to open the door. And I have to question how she even locked the door in the first place. So, I help her unlock her door and guide her in. I ask her if I can take a look at the sink.
NO water is running. No noise is coming from this apartment. I walk over to the kitchen sink. She grabs my arm and yells at me not to touch it because it the handle is broken and it's going to flood the apartment. Umm, no it isn't, actually. I tell her to leave it alone and Dwayne will come in a second. I ask her if I can get her a drink or help her get situated. She tells me that her television is out and her son will have to call the company out to fix it. Oh I really know this drill. This is Nanny 101 for me. I fix her television to the news channel. Again, she pinches me. I'm an angel sent from God and am not real. I just laugh and shake my head. "Miss Cornelia, what else can I do for you? I really think you should eat or drink something, that was a very long walk for you." She asks for milk. There is very little. She starts to cry. She doesn't know when her son will be home to get her some more milk. And she can't drink water because the sink is broken. I tell her I'm going to go to the grocery store and get her a gallon of milk. I check the labeling to make sure I get the right one and am ready to go. She reaches into her pocket and wants to pay me. She wants to pay me for the milk, for the walk, for calling the maintenance guy, for fixing the tv. I told her that there is no way on earth I'm accepting any money from her. She is a very stubborn woman and hands me $1. Then says, "Wait, take $3 because I'm wasting your time." I laugh. I take the money simply because I've had this argument with my grandmother before and really, its pointless. I also know what its like to want to give so much more back to someone helping you than you are able. I go to the store and come right back. Omg, she left the front door wide open. I knock and hollar for her almost afraid of what I might find. She's playing a game of Solitaire on the kitchen table and smiling and she's singing. I approach her and put the milk in the refrigerator. She smiles and claps her hands together, "Kaaaddyyyyy!!! You came back! I left the door open for you." I set the receipt for the gallon of milk that cost $2.98 and set the $.02 right next to it. She is so adamant about me keeping the change. All two cents. She holds my hands and thanks me over and over and tells me how so many good things are heading my way. And just like that she starts to cry. And I just know what she's about to say to me. I interrupt her...."Miss Cornelia, is that Solitaire? I don't know how to play Solitaire. Can I just watch you for a few minutes?" I sat and watched her so calmly but with very quick hands, play her card game. She is the fastest Solitaire player I have ever seen. I smiled and gave her a hug and headed for the door. Without looking away from her game, she hollars to me, "Kady, you forgot to take your change." "Oh yes, Miss Cornelia, I did. Thank you." And I picked up my two cents and headed home. I've thought about her non-stop since. I'm going to go check on her here in a bit. She made my day. A little niceness goes a long way.
Since November strange things have happened to me. I say strange but other people roll their eyes at that. I feel that people have been overly generous and kind lately. I'm not one to kick a gift horse in the mouth but really it puzzles me. Because of my innate need to analyze every single who, why, how and what, I have spent the majority of the past two months trying to figure out why certain people are so nice to me. I think I figure if things get too good or are going too well, I'll get sucker punched with something far worse than all the greatness combined on a polar level. Skeptic? Cynic? Overly cautious? Paranoid? Crazy? Perhaps all of the above.
At any rate, let me let you in on my today. My planning for today had actually started last night. Sitting all day in my apartment after my NYE at the cabin and catching up on some much needed rest and relaxtion (sans children), reading and watching television, I decided that I needed to get out and about today. So, the issues weighing down my thoughts here of late involve a situation with a boy. I'm not going into details about who this boy is. If you know me, you know who it is. Strike that, if your name is Carly, you know who the boy is. If you don't, you don't need to. At any rate, I can't figure this species out. Who is the closest person I can talk to that would help alleviate this puzzle? My brother, Quincy. Quincy, the eternal bachelor. If anyone can explain why some dude is being a complete idiot or douchebag its probably Quincy. Not because he is one but because he has that wiring.
I decided to go to the driving range with my brother. Learning to golf is on my bucket list and has been. I have my mom's starter set of clubs, shoes, etc. so I have no reason not to go. I actually like the driving range. And while I have 2 golf pros within reach, I needed some time with my brother. I rarely am around him without my boys and they hog all of his attention. Q accepted my invite. So, we decided on noonish to meet at Mister Tee and we did. We were there for almost 2 hours. I know I read too much into everything and while I don't make New Year's resolutions I do have a list of things I'd like to change or tweak or modify about me. Lesson from the driving range: When swinging a club, it is more natural for me to swing it more like a baseball bat hitting a baseball. Ironically, and in the same breath as that last statement, when I don't think about all the things put into a golf swing, I actually made contact with the ball and would even go as far to say it was "good"...On my drive home, that echoed in my brain, "...as unnatural as it is, stop thinking and it becomes natural..."
I didn't really get to chat with my brother about the issues that were weighing my head down so much here lately and realized that I didn't even think about those issues while at the range. So, it was a great distraction. But upon departure, a truck pulled in the parking lot....the same kind of truck that "he" drives. Ok, Khaki, you're retarded. This is enough. "Hey Q, wanna go to Chikfila for lunch?" And he did. So off we went and we discussed said issues and I realized that I was correct. It really isn't about me. Its him....the dude. And that perhaps I should just "Let it Go" and go and not take things so personally sometimes. Note: I'm a work in progress.
So, I am heading home from all that golfing and decide that while I consumed the most unhealthy choice at Chikfila (chicken strips with mayonaise and polynesian sauce and waffle fries dipped in the same) it may not be a bad idea to knock out a few miles....or 3 before I get inside and lay down and either fall asleep or the soreness from my swinging sets in and I start making excuses not to run. I grab my headphones and start to run. I ran really hard after my .10th of a mile warm-up. I was feeling good. Rihanna was jamming out and I was bringing sexy back....all was right with the world until all of a sudden after mile 2, I felt this horrible burn in the back of my throat and I couldn't even spit to make it better. Yeah, I tried. Gross, I know. Get over the visual already. So, I'm walking up the hill and feel like instead of overkill on the exercise today, its time to go in and focus on the relax part of my day. I don't normally cut through the entrance over by the leasing office but I did to see if the office was opened because I need to drop off rent. I always like going in and talking to Orion if he's working. I saw an elderly woman walking with a cane who looked beyond frustrated. She is trying to walk up the stair but there is no railing. And she's grasping for it and shuffling her feet but cannot make her legs lift to take that step. I kind of panicked for a second and ran over to her for fear she may fall. She was alone. I offered her my arm to help her up the steps and she is yelling at me. Not out of anger towards me but out of frustration because, "Everytime he leaves, things just fall apart. The kitchen sink is about to flood the apartment and he's not home. I need them to come fix it. I have no water. My TV is out and he's going to have to call someone to fix it. Oh why does the world fall apart when he leaves? He's on that cruise with her and left me here. Oh, oh, oh. I don't know what to do!!!!!!!" Immediately, a smile so big consumes my face and I could not be more eager to alleviate all that is going through this woman's mind. Like almost a feeling of "Thank you, God...for picking me on this one."
Now, I love people. I love old people. I love young people. I love helping people...I think I was put on this planet to first, be a mother. Second, to help people. That's why I'm torn at my job right now. I love the people I do have the privelege to help and interact with dearly but that is only about 10% of my job. The other 90% is producing financials which means being married to Excel and Access and well, not my idea of a dream job.
So, the leasing office is closed. I have my cell phone and I call the emergency number and leave a message with the service. This woman has no phone number though. I can't give a call back number for her because she said, "He took his phone and I don't know how to use the phone." And in my mind, I'm wondering who the hell is "he" and what was he thinking leaving this woman alone. Good gravy!!
If there's anyone on the entire apartment complex that has the direct number to the maintenance guy, Dwayne, its probably me. Sidenote, Kasyn has clogged our toilet with more superheroes than I can even count. Dwayne is one of 5 boys raised by a single mother and he told me one time that watching me handle my boys makes him call his mom and thank her. I live behind the leasing office where the maintenance golf carts often gather in the mornings. Dwayne has helped me unload groceries, let us swim after hours with the boys, fixed things in my apt on the sly without a formal request to the office, etc. Oh Miss Cornelia, do not worry. I can help you.
I called Dwayne and he said he would be over in a second. The lady, named Cornelia, did know her apartment number. So, off we scuffle, back to her apartment. Umm, her apartment was a nice big fat zig zag away from mine/leasing office. At the pace we walked, I'm guessing it took her an hour to get there. I cut through breezeways. She did not.
The whole walk back she is still panicked over being left alone. It crossed my mind on the way back if I her sink was really flooding. I have an 85 year old grandmother that lives with my mother and I have the privelege of watching from time to time. I get it. I learned from Miss Cornelia that she was born on March 20th and that "every March 20th is a splendid Spring day"...I refrained from telling her that last March 20th it was a cold dreary snowy day. I only remember this because it was the first time my twins saw snow. She asked me my name. Rather than get into all the complications of a name like Khaki....I simply told her my name was Kady. My initials are KD and my dad used to call me Kady. My name was really irrelevant. It worked. She paused and told me that I was an angel. She kept pinching my arm and asking if I was real. I told her about my three boys. Several times she insisted that she was too much trouble and interrupting my day and that I should just leave her. I refused and told her that she had no idea how happy I was to have met her and there is no place I'd rather be than walking with her back to her apartment. She cried. I found out that her son was on a cruise with his girlfriend. She didn't like his girlfriend. And his girlfriend "isn't even half as pretty as you are Kady"...(insert shaking head and smile). Aha, we make it to her apartment and she cannot use the key on her wrist to open the door. And I have to question how she even locked the door in the first place. So, I help her unlock her door and guide her in. I ask her if I can take a look at the sink.
NO water is running. No noise is coming from this apartment. I walk over to the kitchen sink. She grabs my arm and yells at me not to touch it because it the handle is broken and it's going to flood the apartment. Umm, no it isn't, actually. I tell her to leave it alone and Dwayne will come in a second. I ask her if I can get her a drink or help her get situated. She tells me that her television is out and her son will have to call the company out to fix it. Oh I really know this drill. This is Nanny 101 for me. I fix her television to the news channel. Again, she pinches me. I'm an angel sent from God and am not real. I just laugh and shake my head. "Miss Cornelia, what else can I do for you? I really think you should eat or drink something, that was a very long walk for you." She asks for milk. There is very little. She starts to cry. She doesn't know when her son will be home to get her some more milk. And she can't drink water because the sink is broken. I tell her I'm going to go to the grocery store and get her a gallon of milk. I check the labeling to make sure I get the right one and am ready to go. She reaches into her pocket and wants to pay me. She wants to pay me for the milk, for the walk, for calling the maintenance guy, for fixing the tv. I told her that there is no way on earth I'm accepting any money from her. She is a very stubborn woman and hands me $1. Then says, "Wait, take $3 because I'm wasting your time." I laugh. I take the money simply because I've had this argument with my grandmother before and really, its pointless. I also know what its like to want to give so much more back to someone helping you than you are able. I go to the store and come right back. Omg, she left the front door wide open. I knock and hollar for her almost afraid of what I might find. She's playing a game of Solitaire on the kitchen table and smiling and she's singing. I approach her and put the milk in the refrigerator. She smiles and claps her hands together, "Kaaaddyyyyy!!! You came back! I left the door open for you." I set the receipt for the gallon of milk that cost $2.98 and set the $.02 right next to it. She is so adamant about me keeping the change. All two cents. She holds my hands and thanks me over and over and tells me how so many good things are heading my way. And just like that she starts to cry. And I just know what she's about to say to me. I interrupt her...."Miss Cornelia, is that Solitaire? I don't know how to play Solitaire. Can I just watch you for a few minutes?" I sat and watched her so calmly but with very quick hands, play her card game. She is the fastest Solitaire player I have ever seen. I smiled and gave her a hug and headed for the door. Without looking away from her game, she hollars to me, "Kady, you forgot to take your change." "Oh yes, Miss Cornelia, I did. Thank you." And I picked up my two cents and headed home. I've thought about her non-stop since. I'm going to go check on her here in a bit. She made my day. A little niceness goes a long way.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Let It Go
I know its been awhile since I've blogged...well, that's inaccurate. I've been blogging but not publishing them. Still, not as often as I should have. I'm not even really sure why. I've been on a crazy rollercoaster this year. And as it comes to a close, I've decided I need to write more in 2012. In fact, I'd say 2011 was probably tied with 2008 for worst year ever.
Recently a young man that I've met once in my lifetime, a friend of a friend if you will, had posted that I should write a book. He said this in reference to the crazy stuff I put on Facebook about my kids. I was flattered because this guy is NOT the typical audience I would expect to have if I ever did in fact write a book. He has, since, read my blog. Crazy how things happen sometimes.
At any rate...wait for it..."Here I sit...." drinking a glass of red wine and contemplating life. Actually, that's what I've done all day..the contemplating life part. I cleaned my house. Well, not clean like I want to clean. I didn't bust out the Pledge and Windex or mops and Fabuloso but it's vacuumed and picked up and laundry is done. Christmas decor has been packed up. As I look around, I think to myself, wow, as shitty as this apartment is to me....it's been good to us. I will be so glad to leave it in 2012 though. So, I had a helluva time with my Christmas tree this year. Some lights worked, some didn't. I never did get it fully lit. As soon as I laced it with strung lights (probably worst grammar ever...my bad) amongst the burnt out pre-lit bullshit, the entire top half of the tree quit working. I gave up.
Let's rewind for a few. I recently kinda dated or was talking to this guy...and he doesn't get his own blog or introduction just yet because he hates that I blog and I told him I wouldn't blog about him and we were hanging out at his house and he said something to me that really pissed me off at the time. We were talking about our divorces. This was back in October. October was the month Kevin got married. October was the month of our anniversary. October is shit to me. I hate October. And so I'm sitting in this guy's living room after one of the most awkward moments two people can have only for him to say to me, "Just let it go." Really, asshole, let it go? Do you know what its like to walk in my shoes? I have 3 kids with a man that left me and married some white trash whore and all you can say is "Let It Go".....can we not have an adult conversation? I mean, I'm not trying to be all sentimental or cry on your fucking shoulder. Jeez.
Ok, pick up where I was a minute ago. I did not share this mental reaction with him. I sat there sweetly and listened to him tell the story of the demise of his marriage and wondered if that had been me, I would've stayed. No one cheated. It seemed to have been a case of miscommunication and stubbornness. And on the long drive home from his house, I thought about what he had said to me. And the way he said it. So rudely. It has since echoed in my head many times. I hung out with this guy last night for a few. We actually had a conversation about his "Let It Go" and I told him how much it offended me. I told him how rude it was. You know what he said to me. He said he had since thought about that night too and realized that. He also told me that he had a family confrontation (for lack of a better word) and they all told him the same thing about his divorce. He said he'd never say it to me again because he realizes he too, needs to just let it go.
I was tearing down my Christmas tree decor today and when it came to deciding to store or not to store a broken shitty Christmas tree, I paused.....and as Misty said to me, "Take a moment"....took my moment and all I could hear was "Let It Go".....so I did. Off to the dumpster went the first Christmas tree I had in my first house with my complete family. Oddly, this is the same Christmas tree that I let Asa borrow one Christmas. Asa...the messenger of all things evil regarding Kevin's extracurricular lifestyle. Yep, to the trash it went. Next year, I will get another tree. Not even going to worry about it now. It will be a perfect tree.
Sometimes you just gotta "Let It Go"....it really is that simple. More brewing in this head of mine but I'm going to sit on the couch and chill out a bit.
Life is good.
Recently a young man that I've met once in my lifetime, a friend of a friend if you will, had posted that I should write a book. He said this in reference to the crazy stuff I put on Facebook about my kids. I was flattered because this guy is NOT the typical audience I would expect to have if I ever did in fact write a book. He has, since, read my blog. Crazy how things happen sometimes.
At any rate...wait for it..."Here I sit...." drinking a glass of red wine and contemplating life. Actually, that's what I've done all day..the contemplating life part. I cleaned my house. Well, not clean like I want to clean. I didn't bust out the Pledge and Windex or mops and Fabuloso but it's vacuumed and picked up and laundry is done. Christmas decor has been packed up. As I look around, I think to myself, wow, as shitty as this apartment is to me....it's been good to us. I will be so glad to leave it in 2012 though. So, I had a helluva time with my Christmas tree this year. Some lights worked, some didn't. I never did get it fully lit. As soon as I laced it with strung lights (probably worst grammar ever...my bad) amongst the burnt out pre-lit bullshit, the entire top half of the tree quit working. I gave up.
Let's rewind for a few. I recently kinda dated or was talking to this guy...and he doesn't get his own blog or introduction just yet because he hates that I blog and I told him I wouldn't blog about him and we were hanging out at his house and he said something to me that really pissed me off at the time. We were talking about our divorces. This was back in October. October was the month Kevin got married. October was the month of our anniversary. October is shit to me. I hate October. And so I'm sitting in this guy's living room after one of the most awkward moments two people can have only for him to say to me, "Just let it go." Really, asshole, let it go? Do you know what its like to walk in my shoes? I have 3 kids with a man that left me and married some white trash whore and all you can say is "Let It Go".....can we not have an adult conversation? I mean, I'm not trying to be all sentimental or cry on your fucking shoulder. Jeez.
Ok, pick up where I was a minute ago. I did not share this mental reaction with him. I sat there sweetly and listened to him tell the story of the demise of his marriage and wondered if that had been me, I would've stayed. No one cheated. It seemed to have been a case of miscommunication and stubbornness. And on the long drive home from his house, I thought about what he had said to me. And the way he said it. So rudely. It has since echoed in my head many times. I hung out with this guy last night for a few. We actually had a conversation about his "Let It Go" and I told him how much it offended me. I told him how rude it was. You know what he said to me. He said he had since thought about that night too and realized that. He also told me that he had a family confrontation (for lack of a better word) and they all told him the same thing about his divorce. He said he'd never say it to me again because he realizes he too, needs to just let it go.
I was tearing down my Christmas tree decor today and when it came to deciding to store or not to store a broken shitty Christmas tree, I paused.....and as Misty said to me, "Take a moment"....took my moment and all I could hear was "Let It Go".....so I did. Off to the dumpster went the first Christmas tree I had in my first house with my complete family. Oddly, this is the same Christmas tree that I let Asa borrow one Christmas. Asa...the messenger of all things evil regarding Kevin's extracurricular lifestyle. Yep, to the trash it went. Next year, I will get another tree. Not even going to worry about it now. It will be a perfect tree.
Sometimes you just gotta "Let It Go"....it really is that simple. More brewing in this head of mine but I'm going to sit on the couch and chill out a bit.
Life is good.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Golden Ticket.....Cloud 9!
Ok, so here I am having just gotten home from the Tightrope CD release party of my all time favorite songwriter, Susan Gibson. I am on a high....the shaking has since subdued but I can't sleep. So blog, I go.
When I was around 14, I would sit in the living room of our condo in Amarillo, TX and I would listen to Gary Wayne and Quincy jam out acoustically song after song so many times that I can remember falling asleep many nights. Back then Gary was in a band called the Groobees. Their first CD, Flying Machine, lacked something overall....and then you'd hear it echo in the background....a female vocal....powerful....just every so often in very few songs. THEN BAM, like Emeril, here she is on their 2nd CD and then BAM here she is in the forefront of all of their shows...their chick singer....the power behind the voice and later I learned the mastermind behind a lot of their lyrics...Susan Freakin' Gibson.
She has this natural beauty about her....scuffed up boots, rugged sweater, hair down or thrown up....a beautiful soul. During my struggle with my weight, I became a huge fan searching for the confidence that she carried in conversation and on stage. Of course, my heart still with Gary Wayne and his riffs....whether electric or acoustic.....but the chick on stage that I was beginning to idolize was Susan. She's not a teeny tiny sex machine like a lot of chick singers, no. She's a good ol' homegrown lyrical genius that can play not only the guitar but so many other instruments. If only I could be like Susan.....a woman who is comfortable in her own skin...something I've never been.
I never had an interest in picking up one of my brother's guitars....too hard. But I've always loved to sing. And I would memorize her parts to all the Groobees CDs. When in Amarillo, we'd go hear them play. When in Dallas, we'd go hear them play. In fact, not even 24 hours after being released from the hospital in Dallas for having spent 7 days in the hospital with pnuemonia, I made Kevin (my now ex-husband) take me to Denton to see a show in a smoke filled bar. I had to go.
I wore these snakeskin printed vinyl pants to her show at Sons of Hermann Hall in Dallas once....and she actually asked if she could have them. Perhaps kidding....did she know I would've gladly traded her pants that day? :-)
Insert Comforts of Home off the Groobees Wayside CD....I would run a bath and jam out to this song..on repeat....hello, concert and audience of and for ONE. Me. Little did I know how that song would hit me several years later....as I became a hermit, confined to my own adventure of self destruction. Food. Avoidance. Weight gain. Disconnect. "At times it seems I just can't wait to lock my doors and hibernate...."
At a Poor David's Pub show in Dallas, I was front row with about 7 or 8 coworkers that were all there because of me and my stellar marketing skills.....I was singing at the top of my lungs...Shut This Place Down...and Susan forgot the words....looks at me as I'm mouthing every single lyric, winks, nodded, smiled, laughed...and said, "Hell I don't know the words but SHE sure does...." and I'm still convinced I cued her back on track.
Quincy used to do karaoke at his house with his sound system and all his friends and of course, the only song I would sing was Susan. He'd put on her CD, turn down the vocals and I'd wail....it always had to be Susan though.
She was at the fair in Dallas one year....oh wait, 2005 to be exact. My son, Kyan, was only a few months old and it was hot as hell. We got a picture of me holding Kyan with Susan next to us. It was one of my favorite pics ever. I put it in a baby book of his and labeled it...."Me and Mom with her all time favorite songwriters. She's famous, ya know." Then, last year, Kyan got the privilege of having her sign this book at her show in Austin at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe....
I got to meet her right hand girl, Jana, and am in just as much awe of her as I am Susan. Jana is also a good soul. You can just tell. Let's not overlook either of their talents...She engaged in conversation with me and actually inquired about the boys and such. That's a definite feel good moment I don't care who you are. I'm not a psycho stalker type fan. I do keep up via facebook, twitter, newsletter, all the happenings of several of my favorite musicians...local or otherwise. But for Susan's shows, I'll pay a babysitter, pay a cover, sit through opening acts, and will even go solo to the gigs....parking several blocks away in the cold and walking.
Her music tells a story for me. While some of the words don't fit just right to the happenings of my life...I can remember getting ready for a date while listening to this song or that song...driving on a road trip here or there, remembering who I was with at a particular show....what I was going through when this CD came out or that one....
My first "real" concert that I ever went to was at American Airlines Center in Dallas, TX. It was the Dixie Chicks. I was in my 20s. And before you think that's lame.....I've only been to 4 concerts in my life, to date....and I just turned 32. Anyway, when they played Wide Open Spaces, I remember crinkling up my nose...it wasn't the version I knew.....or that I sang. It wasn't Susan's version.
I've encountered my fair share of heartaches in my lifetime...and Not My Man is now scratched and skips when I play it.....but you know what, I can sing through the skips. I know exactly where they are on the CD. Anyone that travels in my car will get to witness (in no order) 1) some John Mayer 2) my awesome Shakira impression and 3) they will get to endure music by Susan and/or The Groobees.
I drive to Waco every other Friday and drop the kids to Kevin who lives in Dallas....and I've stopped letting people come with me on these drives because having someone sit in the passenger seat for 120 miles when all you really want to do is sing Susan Gibson all the way home, is well, just annoying. I have finally confessed this tidbit of info to my friends who became offended...."Its' not you, it's me. I just like the solitude and well, I like to sing as if no one is listening....."
My most meaningful show was last year at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe not only because she signed Kyan's baby book and the boys got to meet the voice behind the CDs we listen to in the car but because I casually made mention of my divorce and she referenced her song "Baby Teeth".....And from that second on, that song took on a whole new meaning for me.....
So, for the past year I've waited for this CD to come out. I had to go tonight. So, I paid a sitter to watch the boys, begged my brother to come so I wouldn't have to go alone, ATM'd my last $100 before my IRS refund deposits at midnight....and as a last minute mention, invited my friend Stephanie to come out. Now Stephanie and I are going to the Broken Spoke this weekend. It was a total surprise that she even listened to country type music....anyway, she agreed to come.
We arrive, I buy a CD and it doesn't contain the golden ticket. I'm a little saddened. A sinking feeling in my gut. Really?!? How could I not win? I may not be her biggest fan but a fan I am, for sure. I mean, if you were to ask my brother, he would put money on it that I was.....I mean, I even sing the guitar riffs....the bow neow, duh, nnn, doo, doos.....c'mon! I still have my Groobees sweatshirt, hat, do-rag.....how could Khaki, of all people, not win?!?! Whatever, I don't, so I go in and find the closest seat I can.
At their first break, Stephanie is toe-tappin, beer drinkin, and singing along....she goes to buy the CD. I go outside with Quincy. I tell her before I go, "If you win, it's mine." We laugh. I come back inside, she comes up to me and says, "Now, Khaki, there's just one thing.....you have to take me with you to the Thai food dinner." It dawns on me (as that's one of the perks the golden keyholder gets)............Steph won!!!!! WHAT?!?!!?! No way!!! I just introduced her to the greatness that is Susan. This is her first Susan experience. But wait, she just gave it to me!!!!!!!!! Holyfuckingshit!!!!!! No way. I don't win anything.....EVER...and while technically I didn't win this, I did.
Stephanie, my newest and closest friend....one of two (out of a total of 22 invited) that came to my birthday party, that didn't bail on me.....that eats sushi with me.....that listens to me rant about my horrid dating stories and the douchebags I continue to meet.....we won!!! Wowzie. I'm stoked.
Jana takes a picture of me, Steph, and Susan. Hello, Awesome. And we talked about Thai food. I can't wait.
Now, I just wish she had done Willin'.............that's one of my favorites that she does. In fact, she's the first person I've ever heard do that song. Quincy had to tell me it was an old Linda Ronstadt song. She did it at Saxon Pub here in Austin not that long ago and I was at that show by myself....except for the new friends I had made at the bar.....but when she belted out that song, I teared up. Love it! I didn't see it coming as it had been YEARS since I had heard her do it.
"Words make you think a thought. Music makes you feel a feeling. A song makes you feel a thought."
E.Y. Harburg
I love to write but I can never express my thoughts like those others have put to song. - Khaki
When I was around 14, I would sit in the living room of our condo in Amarillo, TX and I would listen to Gary Wayne and Quincy jam out acoustically song after song so many times that I can remember falling asleep many nights. Back then Gary was in a band called the Groobees. Their first CD, Flying Machine, lacked something overall....and then you'd hear it echo in the background....a female vocal....powerful....just every so often in very few songs. THEN BAM, like Emeril, here she is on their 2nd CD and then BAM here she is in the forefront of all of their shows...their chick singer....the power behind the voice and later I learned the mastermind behind a lot of their lyrics...Susan Freakin' Gibson.
She has this natural beauty about her....scuffed up boots, rugged sweater, hair down or thrown up....a beautiful soul. During my struggle with my weight, I became a huge fan searching for the confidence that she carried in conversation and on stage. Of course, my heart still with Gary Wayne and his riffs....whether electric or acoustic.....but the chick on stage that I was beginning to idolize was Susan. She's not a teeny tiny sex machine like a lot of chick singers, no. She's a good ol' homegrown lyrical genius that can play not only the guitar but so many other instruments. If only I could be like Susan.....a woman who is comfortable in her own skin...something I've never been.
I never had an interest in picking up one of my brother's guitars....too hard. But I've always loved to sing. And I would memorize her parts to all the Groobees CDs. When in Amarillo, we'd go hear them play. When in Dallas, we'd go hear them play. In fact, not even 24 hours after being released from the hospital in Dallas for having spent 7 days in the hospital with pnuemonia, I made Kevin (my now ex-husband) take me to Denton to see a show in a smoke filled bar. I had to go.
I wore these snakeskin printed vinyl pants to her show at Sons of Hermann Hall in Dallas once....and she actually asked if she could have them. Perhaps kidding....did she know I would've gladly traded her pants that day? :-)
Insert Comforts of Home off the Groobees Wayside CD....I would run a bath and jam out to this song..on repeat....hello, concert and audience of and for ONE. Me. Little did I know how that song would hit me several years later....as I became a hermit, confined to my own adventure of self destruction. Food. Avoidance. Weight gain. Disconnect. "At times it seems I just can't wait to lock my doors and hibernate...."
At a Poor David's Pub show in Dallas, I was front row with about 7 or 8 coworkers that were all there because of me and my stellar marketing skills.....I was singing at the top of my lungs...Shut This Place Down...and Susan forgot the words....looks at me as I'm mouthing every single lyric, winks, nodded, smiled, laughed...and said, "Hell I don't know the words but SHE sure does...." and I'm still convinced I cued her back on track.
Quincy used to do karaoke at his house with his sound system and all his friends and of course, the only song I would sing was Susan. He'd put on her CD, turn down the vocals and I'd wail....it always had to be Susan though.
She was at the fair in Dallas one year....oh wait, 2005 to be exact. My son, Kyan, was only a few months old and it was hot as hell. We got a picture of me holding Kyan with Susan next to us. It was one of my favorite pics ever. I put it in a baby book of his and labeled it...."Me and Mom with her all time favorite songwriters. She's famous, ya know." Then, last year, Kyan got the privilege of having her sign this book at her show in Austin at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe....
I got to meet her right hand girl, Jana, and am in just as much awe of her as I am Susan. Jana is also a good soul. You can just tell. Let's not overlook either of their talents...She engaged in conversation with me and actually inquired about the boys and such. That's a definite feel good moment I don't care who you are. I'm not a psycho stalker type fan. I do keep up via facebook, twitter, newsletter, all the happenings of several of my favorite musicians...local or otherwise. But for Susan's shows, I'll pay a babysitter, pay a cover, sit through opening acts, and will even go solo to the gigs....parking several blocks away in the cold and walking.
Her music tells a story for me. While some of the words don't fit just right to the happenings of my life...I can remember getting ready for a date while listening to this song or that song...driving on a road trip here or there, remembering who I was with at a particular show....what I was going through when this CD came out or that one....
My first "real" concert that I ever went to was at American Airlines Center in Dallas, TX. It was the Dixie Chicks. I was in my 20s. And before you think that's lame.....I've only been to 4 concerts in my life, to date....and I just turned 32. Anyway, when they played Wide Open Spaces, I remember crinkling up my nose...it wasn't the version I knew.....or that I sang. It wasn't Susan's version.
I've encountered my fair share of heartaches in my lifetime...and Not My Man is now scratched and skips when I play it.....but you know what, I can sing through the skips. I know exactly where they are on the CD. Anyone that travels in my car will get to witness (in no order) 1) some John Mayer 2) my awesome Shakira impression and 3) they will get to endure music by Susan and/or The Groobees.
I drive to Waco every other Friday and drop the kids to Kevin who lives in Dallas....and I've stopped letting people come with me on these drives because having someone sit in the passenger seat for 120 miles when all you really want to do is sing Susan Gibson all the way home, is well, just annoying. I have finally confessed this tidbit of info to my friends who became offended...."Its' not you, it's me. I just like the solitude and well, I like to sing as if no one is listening....."
My most meaningful show was last year at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe not only because she signed Kyan's baby book and the boys got to meet the voice behind the CDs we listen to in the car but because I casually made mention of my divorce and she referenced her song "Baby Teeth".....And from that second on, that song took on a whole new meaning for me.....
So, for the past year I've waited for this CD to come out. I had to go tonight. So, I paid a sitter to watch the boys, begged my brother to come so I wouldn't have to go alone, ATM'd my last $100 before my IRS refund deposits at midnight....and as a last minute mention, invited my friend Stephanie to come out. Now Stephanie and I are going to the Broken Spoke this weekend. It was a total surprise that she even listened to country type music....anyway, she agreed to come.
We arrive, I buy a CD and it doesn't contain the golden ticket. I'm a little saddened. A sinking feeling in my gut. Really?!? How could I not win? I may not be her biggest fan but a fan I am, for sure. I mean, if you were to ask my brother, he would put money on it that I was.....I mean, I even sing the guitar riffs....the bow neow, duh, nnn, doo, doos.....c'mon! I still have my Groobees sweatshirt, hat, do-rag.....how could Khaki, of all people, not win?!?! Whatever, I don't, so I go in and find the closest seat I can.
At their first break, Stephanie is toe-tappin, beer drinkin, and singing along....she goes to buy the CD. I go outside with Quincy. I tell her before I go, "If you win, it's mine." We laugh. I come back inside, she comes up to me and says, "Now, Khaki, there's just one thing.....you have to take me with you to the Thai food dinner." It dawns on me (as that's one of the perks the golden keyholder gets)............Steph won!!!!! WHAT?!?!!?! No way!!! I just introduced her to the greatness that is Susan. This is her first Susan experience. But wait, she just gave it to me!!!!!!!!! Holyfuckingshit!!!!!! No way. I don't win anything.....EVER...and while technically I didn't win this, I did.
Stephanie, my newest and closest friend....one of two (out of a total of 22 invited) that came to my birthday party, that didn't bail on me.....that eats sushi with me.....that listens to me rant about my horrid dating stories and the douchebags I continue to meet.....we won!!! Wowzie. I'm stoked.
Jana takes a picture of me, Steph, and Susan. Hello, Awesome. And we talked about Thai food. I can't wait.
Now, I just wish she had done Willin'.............that's one of my favorites that she does. In fact, she's the first person I've ever heard do that song. Quincy had to tell me it was an old Linda Ronstadt song. She did it at Saxon Pub here in Austin not that long ago and I was at that show by myself....except for the new friends I had made at the bar.....but when she belted out that song, I teared up. Love it! I didn't see it coming as it had been YEARS since I had heard her do it.
"Words make you think a thought. Music makes you feel a feeling. A song makes you feel a thought."
E.Y. Harburg
I love to write but I can never express my thoughts like those others have put to song. - Khaki
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Sick, Sicker, Sickest
Here I am sick....coughing, sweats, chills, fever, congestion, coughing turned hacking up a lung or two......aches....and have to go to work tomorrow. So, me and the boys were all sick this weekend and it was the worst weekend we've had in a long time. They weren't supposed to be here this weekend but due to weather in Dallas, we did not do the exchange. God, I hope Kevin wasn't bullshitting about not being able to drive to get the boys because its been hell.
Now, if there's anywhere I want my babies to be when they're sick, it's home with me. But have you ever had to care for 3 little ones when YOU feel like shit? It sucks. On top of the living room flooding and these big loud fans everywhere, carpet ripped up, maintenance coming in and out.....blah!!!!
As soon as one kid is up and at 'em, I have 2 down....and vice versa.....I'd turn on the air only for them to want heat....and it just sucked. I didn't even feel like cooking....I just wanted to lay. I took probably 4 or 5 showers each day because laying around just makes me feel nasty. I did keep up w/ most of the laundry....but I'm so ready to feel better.
Now, I cussed Kevin a lot this weekend. While he's in his nice little 3 bedroom home w/ his white trash girlfriend taking care of him.....trust me, he's a pussy when he's sick, I know. I took care of his ass for 12 years when he was sick....at any rate, while he's resting and probably sleeping uninterrupted...I'm not....and neither are his boys....so here we all are sick. When do I get to take a sick day from being a Mom? I was just sick w/ this crud a few weeks ago too when I had the boys 3 weeks straight. Had a steroid shot, meds, and a sick kid then too. I need a break.
Tomorrow Kevin comes to town for court and I've sent him a text that he needs to pick up the boys from my mom's and take them to the doctor. I'm sure he'll say some shit like, "I have to get back so I can get to bed to go to work" and that is going to royally piss me off. He can pull a late night drive to help me with the boys for one fucking day.
Kevin has no clue. NO clue....what life for me is like and I just get pissed off at him when I think about it.
And so cheers to being sick and getting well. Lord, I hope this string of bad is going to leave soon. All in favor of March turning 2011 around say Yay. Yay.
Now, if there's anywhere I want my babies to be when they're sick, it's home with me. But have you ever had to care for 3 little ones when YOU feel like shit? It sucks. On top of the living room flooding and these big loud fans everywhere, carpet ripped up, maintenance coming in and out.....blah!!!!
As soon as one kid is up and at 'em, I have 2 down....and vice versa.....I'd turn on the air only for them to want heat....and it just sucked. I didn't even feel like cooking....I just wanted to lay. I took probably 4 or 5 showers each day because laying around just makes me feel nasty. I did keep up w/ most of the laundry....but I'm so ready to feel better.
Now, I cussed Kevin a lot this weekend. While he's in his nice little 3 bedroom home w/ his white trash girlfriend taking care of him.....trust me, he's a pussy when he's sick, I know. I took care of his ass for 12 years when he was sick....at any rate, while he's resting and probably sleeping uninterrupted...I'm not....and neither are his boys....so here we all are sick. When do I get to take a sick day from being a Mom? I was just sick w/ this crud a few weeks ago too when I had the boys 3 weeks straight. Had a steroid shot, meds, and a sick kid then too. I need a break.
Tomorrow Kevin comes to town for court and I've sent him a text that he needs to pick up the boys from my mom's and take them to the doctor. I'm sure he'll say some shit like, "I have to get back so I can get to bed to go to work" and that is going to royally piss me off. He can pull a late night drive to help me with the boys for one fucking day.
Kevin has no clue. NO clue....what life for me is like and I just get pissed off at him when I think about it.
And so cheers to being sick and getting well. Lord, I hope this string of bad is going to leave soon. All in favor of March turning 2011 around say Yay. Yay.
Younger, I think not.
Ok, so I promised this note a few days ago. I have never dated a younger guy until after my divorce (almost 2 years ago). The youngest guy I had dated up to that point was actually 12 days older than me. Does anyone remember Nick Hilleary? Ok, stop. Let's carry on.
I have gone out with a few guys in the past 6-7 months that were younger than I was. I know I've had some life experiences that have made me smarter and wiser than most but come on, really? These age differences are merely 3-4 years, not 10+. Isn't there a point in adulthood where age really doesn't matter? I know I have several dear girl friends and our age differences don't matter at all.
To save time, because trust me, this one guy in particular isn't worth the time I'm spending on this note/blog...I will paraphrase.
If I travel to Houston to see you, don't assume I'm spending the night. And I have no desire for black satin sheets with gold trim even if I did stay the night. At 28 years old, I just think a guy who is "ready to find the right girl and take life seriously" should know a few things about impressing a lady....first of all, the shot glass collection next to the lava lamp in your room.....they need to go. You don't have to get rid of them but let's save them in a box somewhere and we'll bust them out at a barbeque in the summer or something...or we'll teach the boys how to juggle with them. Yes, I said lava lamp...purple and orange...and I'm all for keeping things "old school" but that's like an old Pac Man game or something...not the ENTIRE collection of VHS ever made....and if you have to take 20 minutes to clear your entire internet history/cache just so I can log into class and post a discussion real quick, there might be issues in our future....I mean really.
If you want to cook for me, fine, fabulous, great, but I'm not worth a lot of effort given my reduced stomach capacity. And furthermore, me + food network = besties. Just know that I'm fine with Whataburger at 11pm if it means you are about to take some chicken leg quarters you got on sale and "have to cook before they go bad" or if you have to ask me, "do these smell okay?" before you put them in a skillet, there are probably better options. Sweetie, don't add the package gravy mix to the raw chicken in the skillet. Oh and this is like date #3-ish (first without mutual friends/family).....we're still in the impress stage!!!! Asking me to help you cook (when, honestly, I can't tell wtf you're doing and am not sure its cooking anyway) and then telling me how to make instant mashed potatoes, isn't making me like you more. Thank God, I brought my own bottle of wine.
Oh and those playlists you have playing in your room, those titled "For the Ladies #1" and "They want more" need some tweeking. I will say , "Sure Thing"..was okay but that's because I have a lame gene and happen to like Kenny G but wouldn't say he's your golden ticket to those satin sheets.
Rewind to earlier in the day when we were shopping, I think it's great that you were trying to help me finish up my shopping for my boys knowing I don't have many kid-free weekends but when we walk into Toys R Us and you have to ask me, "Why are there kids screaming in here?".....we should probably go home....or you should...then 3 times, asking me for Excedrin because its on your nerves, just know that I will never let you around my kids...especially Kasyn.
And for some reason, that thumb ring you wear, really bothers me. But not as much as the drunk text you sent me New Year's Eve that I can't even repeat on here. That has got to be one of the most degrading, disgusting texts I have ever received...and trust me, I receive them often. And when I tell you this, you laugh rather than apologize? When I said, "Perhaps we aren't compatible. I wish you the best." And you come back with, "Whatever, I have time, money, and a career"......uh huh. Is this where I was supposed to engage in the "one-up" game?
And for the record, yes, it was very weird to ask the 10 year old boy to take a picture of us at the ice skating rink and then use it as your fb profile the second I left town. Weird-o
And dating older wasn't all that great either. The older guy I dated was like 8 years older and a complete ass. I'm not saying age defines the general species or gender....I'm saying I haven't had luck with the few that I've dated younger or older.
But yay for entertaining stories to share with my single friends who should be cautious and my married friends who should be grateful they aren't missing out on anything.
I really want to attach the picture from the skating rink but I'm going to have to save that for the blog. I've already had to block this from a few people. :-D
This was originally from an event back in December but posted to fb Jan. 20, 2011.
I have gone out with a few guys in the past 6-7 months that were younger than I was. I know I've had some life experiences that have made me smarter and wiser than most but come on, really? These age differences are merely 3-4 years, not 10+. Isn't there a point in adulthood where age really doesn't matter? I know I have several dear girl friends and our age differences don't matter at all.
To save time, because trust me, this one guy in particular isn't worth the time I'm spending on this note/blog...I will paraphrase.
If I travel to Houston to see you, don't assume I'm spending the night. And I have no desire for black satin sheets with gold trim even if I did stay the night. At 28 years old, I just think a guy who is "ready to find the right girl and take life seriously" should know a few things about impressing a lady....first of all, the shot glass collection next to the lava lamp in your room.....they need to go. You don't have to get rid of them but let's save them in a box somewhere and we'll bust them out at a barbeque in the summer or something...or we'll teach the boys how to juggle with them. Yes, I said lava lamp...purple and orange...and I'm all for keeping things "old school" but that's like an old Pac Man game or something...not the ENTIRE collection of VHS ever made....and if you have to take 20 minutes to clear your entire internet history/cache just so I can log into class and post a discussion real quick, there might be issues in our future....I mean really.
If you want to cook for me, fine, fabulous, great, but I'm not worth a lot of effort given my reduced stomach capacity. And furthermore, me + food network = besties. Just know that I'm fine with Whataburger at 11pm if it means you are about to take some chicken leg quarters you got on sale and "have to cook before they go bad" or if you have to ask me, "do these smell okay?" before you put them in a skillet, there are probably better options. Sweetie, don't add the package gravy mix to the raw chicken in the skillet. Oh and this is like date #3-ish (first without mutual friends/family).....we're still in the impress stage!!!! Asking me to help you cook (when, honestly, I can't tell wtf you're doing and am not sure its cooking anyway) and then telling me how to make instant mashed potatoes, isn't making me like you more. Thank God, I brought my own bottle of wine.
Oh and those playlists you have playing in your room, those titled "For the Ladies #1" and "They want more" need some tweeking. I will say , "Sure Thing"..was okay but that's because I have a lame gene and happen to like Kenny G but wouldn't say he's your golden ticket to those satin sheets.
Rewind to earlier in the day when we were shopping, I think it's great that you were trying to help me finish up my shopping for my boys knowing I don't have many kid-free weekends but when we walk into Toys R Us and you have to ask me, "Why are there kids screaming in here?".....we should probably go home....or you should...then 3 times, asking me for Excedrin because its on your nerves, just know that I will never let you around my kids...especially Kasyn.
And for some reason, that thumb ring you wear, really bothers me. But not as much as the drunk text you sent me New Year's Eve that I can't even repeat on here. That has got to be one of the most degrading, disgusting texts I have ever received...and trust me, I receive them often. And when I tell you this, you laugh rather than apologize? When I said, "Perhaps we aren't compatible. I wish you the best." And you come back with, "Whatever, I have time, money, and a career"......uh huh. Is this where I was supposed to engage in the "one-up" game?
And for the record, yes, it was very weird to ask the 10 year old boy to take a picture of us at the ice skating rink and then use it as your fb profile the second I left town. Weird-o
And dating older wasn't all that great either. The older guy I dated was like 8 years older and a complete ass. I'm not saying age defines the general species or gender....I'm saying I haven't had luck with the few that I've dated younger or older.
But yay for entertaining stories to share with my single friends who should be cautious and my married friends who should be grateful they aren't missing out on anything.
I really want to attach the picture from the skating rink but I'm going to have to save that for the blog. I've already had to block this from a few people. :-D
This was originally from an event back in December but posted to fb Jan. 20, 2011.
The easy years, MY ASS!
So, whoever said that these are the easy years, the toddler/elementary/young years, are full of shit. Tonight I had the joy of driving the 125 miles to Waco and back to pick up my boys from their dad. Things were pleasant. We met at the gas station where the boys were finishing up their Sonic in the car and I joked with Kevin about his choice in attire (red polo and khaki pants) asking him "Since when do you work at Target?" and then playfully asked where my dinner was to which Kyan replied, "We forgot your cheesesticks." (see, he knows) Then we have the wonderful bathroom experience where they often go between using the women's with me and the men's with Kevin....it's hilarious, actually. Whatever works.
Since Kevin wasn't generous this evening in ordering me the cheesesticks from Sonic that I've eaten for the better part of 5 years, me and the boys head to Sonic. Lol. We're waiting for my food and I look back at Kyan who is clinching his fists and squinting his eyes so hard that he looks like a constipated sumo wrestler. I asked, "KYAN, what are you doing, son?" He looks at me shyly, "I wish so bad Mommy this wish that I can't tell you." Me kind of laughing, "Just tell me, Ky." Him adamant, "NO, it won't come true and I'm wishing so hard." Me, "Maybe instead of wishing we can just pray about it...together and God can make it come true." (And really, I was thinking this wish was for the latest and greatest XBox game or something....lego structure....not THIS)
He holds out his hand and says, "Grab my hand and I'll say it." I, with one hand, grab his little hand and he's squints his eyes so tight and clinches his other fist, "Dear God....Mommy, close your eyes!....Dear God, I wish you would sneak into Daddy's heart and make him marry Mommy again. Please, oh, please, make this wish come true. Amen."
Me, insert gulp and speechlessness.
Kyan, "That was a good job, huh? I bet he heard it because I was wishing extra hard and he has these huge ears. Kasyn, did you know God has the biggest ears in the world?" Kasyn shocked, "That's wheely wheely big."
Me, insert tears. I have NO idea what to say and was wishing it was the Harry Potter Lego castle he "wished" for.....Wow. That kid is something else. So, I immediately send a short version text to my brother and sister.
Quincy's reply, "Awe, we've been there too. Hurts. Ky is such a smilemaker. Hang tuff." I remember that. Wishing my parents would get married....also that they'd get divorced. Catch 22. But I was a teenager.
Kyan is only 5 and was only 3 when we divorced. I can't believe his brain sometimes. Then he's drawing zig zags on this pillow in his lap and says, "Guess what I'm drawing, Mommy." Me, "A rollercoaster mountain?" Him, "Nope, it's me going back and forth to Mommy's, Daddy's, Mommy's, Daddy's.....and I'm sooooo tired of it. Do you know where Ms. Georgia lives? Maybe you can get a house next to her's and we can live next to Daddy so it won't be 10 days, 7 days, 12 days, forever days. It will just be everyday." Me, "I can't live next to Ms. Georgia, honey. My whole family is here and I would be sad to leave them."
Then Kamdyn screams so loud you'd think he just got shocked or something. I ask him what's wrong. "I MISS DADDY!!!!!!! I DIDN'T GIVE HIM ANOTHER HUG." He goes on for a long time.....crying for his Dad. I got out and crawled in the back and gave him a hug and wiped his tears and told him over and over that it was okay to be sad and to miss Daddy. But that we were going to have a fun time this weekend. We're going to try to ride horses, etc......he stopped for a second.....only a second. Then SCREAM........
"Hey guys, do you want a milkshake? Let's get milkshakes!!" (ice cream is comfort food for some people, right?) I get the shakes. Kamdyn wants a "Daddy shake." I make a joke about how that would not taste good...it would have eyeballs and guts and toes in it. He didn't think it was funny. Then, thank GOD, Kyan burps so loud everyone started laughing.
So, I ask the boys what songs they want me to play on the ipod. Distract, distract, distract. Ky gets to pick first. "Be OK" by Ingrid Michaelson. No shit? Really, Kyan? The song I listened to every single morning for 3 months straight after my divorce.
And we're off....BE OK it is.....for about 40 miles on repeat until they fall asleep.
The easy years my ass!
This post was originally from Jan 17, 2011.
Since Kevin wasn't generous this evening in ordering me the cheesesticks from Sonic that I've eaten for the better part of 5 years, me and the boys head to Sonic. Lol. We're waiting for my food and I look back at Kyan who is clinching his fists and squinting his eyes so hard that he looks like a constipated sumo wrestler. I asked, "KYAN, what are you doing, son?" He looks at me shyly, "I wish so bad Mommy this wish that I can't tell you." Me kind of laughing, "Just tell me, Ky." Him adamant, "NO, it won't come true and I'm wishing so hard." Me, "Maybe instead of wishing we can just pray about it...together and God can make it come true." (And really, I was thinking this wish was for the latest and greatest XBox game or something....lego structure....not THIS)
He holds out his hand and says, "Grab my hand and I'll say it." I, with one hand, grab his little hand and he's squints his eyes so tight and clinches his other fist, "Dear God....Mommy, close your eyes!....Dear God, I wish you would sneak into Daddy's heart and make him marry Mommy again. Please, oh, please, make this wish come true. Amen."
Me, insert gulp and speechlessness.
Kyan, "That was a good job, huh? I bet he heard it because I was wishing extra hard and he has these huge ears. Kasyn, did you know God has the biggest ears in the world?" Kasyn shocked, "That's wheely wheely big."
Me, insert tears. I have NO idea what to say and was wishing it was the Harry Potter Lego castle he "wished" for.....Wow. That kid is something else. So, I immediately send a short version text to my brother and sister.
Quincy's reply, "Awe, we've been there too. Hurts. Ky is such a smilemaker. Hang tuff." I remember that. Wishing my parents would get married....also that they'd get divorced. Catch 22. But I was a teenager.
Kyan is only 5 and was only 3 when we divorced. I can't believe his brain sometimes. Then he's drawing zig zags on this pillow in his lap and says, "Guess what I'm drawing, Mommy." Me, "A rollercoaster mountain?" Him, "Nope, it's me going back and forth to Mommy's, Daddy's, Mommy's, Daddy's.....and I'm sooooo tired of it. Do you know where Ms. Georgia lives? Maybe you can get a house next to her's and we can live next to Daddy so it won't be 10 days, 7 days, 12 days, forever days. It will just be everyday." Me, "I can't live next to Ms. Georgia, honey. My whole family is here and I would be sad to leave them."
Then Kamdyn screams so loud you'd think he just got shocked or something. I ask him what's wrong. "I MISS DADDY!!!!!!! I DIDN'T GIVE HIM ANOTHER HUG." He goes on for a long time.....crying for his Dad. I got out and crawled in the back and gave him a hug and wiped his tears and told him over and over that it was okay to be sad and to miss Daddy. But that we were going to have a fun time this weekend. We're going to try to ride horses, etc......he stopped for a second.....only a second. Then SCREAM........
"Hey guys, do you want a milkshake? Let's get milkshakes!!" (ice cream is comfort food for some people, right?) I get the shakes. Kamdyn wants a "Daddy shake." I make a joke about how that would not taste good...it would have eyeballs and guts and toes in it. He didn't think it was funny. Then, thank GOD, Kyan burps so loud everyone started laughing.
So, I ask the boys what songs they want me to play on the ipod. Distract, distract, distract. Ky gets to pick first. "Be OK" by Ingrid Michaelson. No shit? Really, Kyan? The song I listened to every single morning for 3 months straight after my divorce.
And we're off....BE OK it is.....for about 40 miles on repeat until they fall asleep.
The easy years my ass!
This post was originally from Jan 17, 2011.
More Moronic Encounters
So, those that follow my blog know I'm overdue for an update. Yes, I've gotten your emails. Those that don't. You don't need to. :-)
I've just been busy. I have a few guy friends that have asked for an update on my dating life (or lack thereof) and while my moronic encounters have been fewer lately, they still exist so please find humor. I actually find humor that more guys like my dating stories than my female friends. So, for you guys, here it is.
I have shared with many that I'm not looking for some guy to fit some mold that I've created in my mind. I'm open but am strongly considering the mental development of a mold. I mean, I do have standards and am learning how to focus in on red flags immediately. So, in the past 2 years, I've definitely gotten smarter. I drive my boys to Waco every other Friday and pick them up every other Sunday. Their dad, my ex-husband, resides in Dallas so this is where we meet for the exchange. Exit 353 and back. Usually, I come home late on Friday nights, case in point, it is almost midnight and I just got home from an exchange. So, not much time for anything other than a hot shower and my DVR. On a rare occasion, I do go out though.
Several weeks back, I got home in time to catch a Spurs game and wanted to have a glass of wine so I went to Little Woodrow's....a bar up the street with decent music, tons of TVs with every sports game on [not to mention my purse full of BOGs to spend there (gift certs, if you will -my sis works for their corporate office)]. I was going to watch the Spurs game (hate the Spurs, love the Mavs, but keep up with stats of most of the teams, esp Mavs rivals). So, there I sit watching the Spurs game enjoying an overdue glass of wine. I don't hang out in bars regularly or anything but when I do, I find a seat near NO ONE. I think bars are the worst places to meet people but do find enjoyment in watching people. I could be entertained at an airport for days, just observing.
I'm sitting there for about 10 minutes and a guy sits next to me. I avoid all eye contact. I made a small outburst in victory when one of Spurs got fouled. So, I guess stranger-now-sitting-too-close took this as an invitation for a lame ice breaker. "I take it you aren't a Spurs fan?" Me, not looking at him, "No, prefer the Mavs." Him, "High five to that one."
Ok, stop. Are you really going to high five me? I didn't say this but thought it. I smiled, fakely, leaving him and his high five hanging. Long story short, he said something that kind of ticked me off.....statistics about basketball in general. I then made a huge mistake. I turned in his direction, made eye contact and engaged in conversation, albeit debate.
He had 3 beers during the time I was there and several times mentioned his girlfriend in Chicago. So, here I go all Dr. Phil on him. "Why are you sad? You chose a long distance relationship. How long have you been together? It's almost Christmas, you should surprise her." Many lines similar to that hinting to invest in the relationship. He went from missing her to "I don't think it's going to work out with us. I should get out of the relationship and start anew."
I used to work for this venues corporate office as their accountant and know some of the people that work there. One of the barbacks always speaks Spanish to me. I am not fluent but can get by with general Espanol conversation. Random-weird-guy-that-I-wish-would-hop-on-a-flight-to-Chicago-NOW starts asking me what I do for a living. I would like to point out that we all know this is really a blatant way to guage how much money one makes.
At any rate, this guy was an Immigration Attorney. "Oh really, specializing in?" His reply, "Immigrants from Mexico." (not the answer I was looking for, Mr. Educated Attorney) I countered, "Ahh, so you speak Spanish?" Him, "Not at all but if I did it would really help my career." Me, "You think?" (duh) For some reason he then felt the need to ask me what I drove. SERIOUSLY? Guys, take note. Lame question to which I will always answer honestly. "A minivan." He laughs. Me, "¿Entonces ahora soy gracioso?" (so now I"m funny?) At this point, I had been trying to flag down the bartender for my check....for the half consumed ONE glass of wine. Amazing how a stranger can be an instant buzzkill. I've got to be better at dissing someone. We talk casually for a bit longer and he's decided that my name is not Khaki, it's "Boo"....and that perhaps I'm a dog because he's pet my hair a few times. WEIRD and I say, "Did you really just pet my hair? I don't like people to touch my hair, or me." Then he tells me he drives a "shiny red 3000GT"....to which I say, "didnt' they stop making those awhile back?" (insert fake laugh to mock him from earlier)
A-ha, check has arrived, thank you Lord. I throw down a couple of those gift certs and as the bartender wisks them away I begin to ponder...how is the one glass of house merlot at this dive bar almost $18? My new friend has gone to the restroom and I'm so ready to bail. I asked the bartender and she says, "Oh are y'all not together, he said to put his drinks on your tab." I said, "It's fine, whatever." Left her a small cash tip and started to walk out the door. The guy shouts, "Boo, Boo, you aren't leaving me, are you?" Stunned. "I have to get home, the game is over and its late. I paid for your drinks and you're welcome." Him, "You don't want to sleep all alone do you? I will come keep you company." Me, "Oh no, no, no, I'm good. I prefer sleeping alone actually.Thanks.Ummm, I'm not THAT girl, sorry." He's now walking with me to my car and I'm thinking to myself, I hope that pepper spray is still in my glovebox. He goes for a hug which I dodge. I see his "red shiny 3000GT" across the parking lot. I get in my car and drive away. I see him get in his car. I think to myself, I can't go home. He'll follow me. So, I drive to my mom's neighborhood and drive around and around and up and down the streets until I don't see any cars. Then I went home and crashed. The next day, I called Time Warner and ordered the NBA Channel so I can watch all the basketball games from my couch. :-)
Why do I attract morons? In a bar, I get it. But even in general encounters with other people...it would seem that only the weirdos are interested. I don't get it, AT ALL. I am not seeking to date anyone right now. I'm far too busy. But just as a security measure to keep those DBs away, I've booked up most of my next kid-free weekends (through about March) with friends and family.
And I have another blog/note for my theory on dating younger guys. Which I succumbed to and have concluded its not my best idea. So, details on that coming soon. For now, my DVR is screaming for some attention. Note to file, do not engage in conversations with ALLEGED Immigration Attorneys, especially if they call you "Boo" and throw their drinks on your tab.....asshole. I'm all about independence (paying for my own stuff) and am pretty much a low maintenance type girl.....but seriously?
More later.
.
I've just been busy. I have a few guy friends that have asked for an update on my dating life (or lack thereof) and while my moronic encounters have been fewer lately, they still exist so please find humor. I actually find humor that more guys like my dating stories than my female friends. So, for you guys, here it is.
I have shared with many that I'm not looking for some guy to fit some mold that I've created in my mind. I'm open but am strongly considering the mental development of a mold. I mean, I do have standards and am learning how to focus in on red flags immediately. So, in the past 2 years, I've definitely gotten smarter. I drive my boys to Waco every other Friday and pick them up every other Sunday. Their dad, my ex-husband, resides in Dallas so this is where we meet for the exchange. Exit 353 and back. Usually, I come home late on Friday nights, case in point, it is almost midnight and I just got home from an exchange. So, not much time for anything other than a hot shower and my DVR. On a rare occasion, I do go out though.
Several weeks back, I got home in time to catch a Spurs game and wanted to have a glass of wine so I went to Little Woodrow's....a bar up the street with decent music, tons of TVs with every sports game on [not to mention my purse full of BOGs to spend there (gift certs, if you will -my sis works for their corporate office)]. I was going to watch the Spurs game (hate the Spurs, love the Mavs, but keep up with stats of most of the teams, esp Mavs rivals). So, there I sit watching the Spurs game enjoying an overdue glass of wine. I don't hang out in bars regularly or anything but when I do, I find a seat near NO ONE. I think bars are the worst places to meet people but do find enjoyment in watching people. I could be entertained at an airport for days, just observing.
I'm sitting there for about 10 minutes and a guy sits next to me. I avoid all eye contact. I made a small outburst in victory when one of Spurs got fouled. So, I guess stranger-now-sitting-too-close took this as an invitation for a lame ice breaker. "I take it you aren't a Spurs fan?" Me, not looking at him, "No, prefer the Mavs." Him, "High five to that one."
Ok, stop. Are you really going to high five me? I didn't say this but thought it. I smiled, fakely, leaving him and his high five hanging. Long story short, he said something that kind of ticked me off.....statistics about basketball in general. I then made a huge mistake. I turned in his direction, made eye contact and engaged in conversation, albeit debate.
He had 3 beers during the time I was there and several times mentioned his girlfriend in Chicago. So, here I go all Dr. Phil on him. "Why are you sad? You chose a long distance relationship. How long have you been together? It's almost Christmas, you should surprise her." Many lines similar to that hinting to invest in the relationship. He went from missing her to "I don't think it's going to work out with us. I should get out of the relationship and start anew."
I used to work for this venues corporate office as their accountant and know some of the people that work there. One of the barbacks always speaks Spanish to me. I am not fluent but can get by with general Espanol conversation. Random-weird-guy-that-I-wish-would-hop-on-a-flight-to-Chicago-NOW starts asking me what I do for a living. I would like to point out that we all know this is really a blatant way to guage how much money one makes.
At any rate, this guy was an Immigration Attorney. "Oh really, specializing in?" His reply, "Immigrants from Mexico." (not the answer I was looking for, Mr. Educated Attorney) I countered, "Ahh, so you speak Spanish?" Him, "Not at all but if I did it would really help my career." Me, "You think?" (duh) For some reason he then felt the need to ask me what I drove. SERIOUSLY? Guys, take note. Lame question to which I will always answer honestly. "A minivan." He laughs. Me, "¿Entonces ahora soy gracioso?" (so now I"m funny?) At this point, I had been trying to flag down the bartender for my check....for the half consumed ONE glass of wine. Amazing how a stranger can be an instant buzzkill. I've got to be better at dissing someone. We talk casually for a bit longer and he's decided that my name is not Khaki, it's "Boo"....and that perhaps I'm a dog because he's pet my hair a few times. WEIRD and I say, "Did you really just pet my hair? I don't like people to touch my hair, or me." Then he tells me he drives a "shiny red 3000GT"....to which I say, "didnt' they stop making those awhile back?" (insert fake laugh to mock him from earlier)
A-ha, check has arrived, thank you Lord. I throw down a couple of those gift certs and as the bartender wisks them away I begin to ponder...how is the one glass of house merlot at this dive bar almost $18? My new friend has gone to the restroom and I'm so ready to bail. I asked the bartender and she says, "Oh are y'all not together, he said to put his drinks on your tab." I said, "It's fine, whatever." Left her a small cash tip and started to walk out the door. The guy shouts, "Boo, Boo, you aren't leaving me, are you?" Stunned. "I have to get home, the game is over and its late. I paid for your drinks and you're welcome." Him, "You don't want to sleep all alone do you? I will come keep you company." Me, "Oh no, no, no, I'm good. I prefer sleeping alone actually.Thanks.Ummm, I'm not THAT girl, sorry." He's now walking with me to my car and I'm thinking to myself, I hope that pepper spray is still in my glovebox. He goes for a hug which I dodge. I see his "red shiny 3000GT" across the parking lot. I get in my car and drive away. I see him get in his car. I think to myself, I can't go home. He'll follow me. So, I drive to my mom's neighborhood and drive around and around and up and down the streets until I don't see any cars. Then I went home and crashed. The next day, I called Time Warner and ordered the NBA Channel so I can watch all the basketball games from my couch. :-)
Why do I attract morons? In a bar, I get it. But even in general encounters with other people...it would seem that only the weirdos are interested. I don't get it, AT ALL. I am not seeking to date anyone right now. I'm far too busy. But just as a security measure to keep those DBs away, I've booked up most of my next kid-free weekends (through about March) with friends and family.
And I have another blog/note for my theory on dating younger guys. Which I succumbed to and have concluded its not my best idea. So, details on that coming soon. For now, my DVR is screaming for some attention. Note to file, do not engage in conversations with ALLEGED Immigration Attorneys, especially if they call you "Boo" and throw their drinks on your tab.....asshole. I'm all about independence (paying for my own stuff) and am pretty much a low maintenance type girl.....but seriously?
More later.
.
Simple Cup O' Joe
This morning I had the joys of getting myself and my three sons ready to be at destination by 7:30 a.m. The destination was Summit Elementary where my 5 year old was performing in his first school play. We had been planning this day for several weeks. Kyan had chosen to be a clown. So, everyday Kyan and I thought of different additions to make his clown costume "the best"...
Alarm goes off at 5:35 a.m. and I begin to suit up my adorable clown. He was going to wear one of my white blouses (don't ever tell him he wore a woman's blouse or he'd die), black vest, pajama pants (to which I had to make sure were the Transformer pants, cleaned and ready), grandpa's tie (which thankfully he tied before giving us), a red nose, face painted clown smile, and a hat....which Kyan picked out at Party City the other night and said he was so happy because it looked like a Michael Jackson hat. Issues I will address post-puberty, I'm sure....the desire to be like MJ.
I asked Kyan what his lines were in this play. He looked at me with disgust, actually, he looked at me with a scrunched up face that I realize I make all too often because it was definitely a "Khaki expression"....and says, 'NO Mommy, I picked a clown so I wouldn't have to talk. I just stand there and pretend to juggle.'
Clown is ready and as I'm getting ready, begging the others to follow suit so we won't be late, Kyan starts dressing Kasyn who is more concerned with where the lego man's legs are. Needless to say, a spanking later, several screams, crying, fit throwing, and me with wet hair, we're as ready as we'll ever be and all boys havemiraculously been fed. My apartment looks like Paris Hilton's closet has thrown up.
I drop off the most adorable looking clown and he's EARLY. Then I take the twins to zip by Grandma's to pick up the iFlip so I can film it for my family who can't make it. Sweet, I still have 20 minutes before the play starts and it's right across the street. I do have time for coffee afterall. Where was the magicaly delicious cup of wake-me-up at 5 a.m.? I should plan better but fell asleep on the couch amidst piles of laundry I was folding...ya win some, ya lose some.
Anyone that knows me, knows I hate being late to anything and sometimes just won't show up if I'm that late. And all too often, Kyan is late to school. Albeit, only by a few minutes. I hate it and someday he can thank his little brother Kasyn for the morning tantrums. Thank God for a minivan w/ automatic doors, a stop, drop, and roll exit in the carpool line, and shoes that 'make you run fast'.....oh and the bribe of a few quarters to get some ice cream in the lunch line if he makes it to the door by the time the van gets up to the Parking Lot Nazi lady. Give a woman an orange vest and a stop sign and she can rule the world....so she thinks.
So, I go to the coffee shop on the way to Ky's school. I prefer Starbucks but this place is pretty good, just slow. But what's this, no line.....just one car already at the window. I order. I pull up to the window and we wait....and wait...and wait. The lady has been handed her coffee and is gabbing at the lady. Hello!!! She must've missed the memo that Kyan Williams has a school play this morning!?!?!?! GO, Lady!!!!! Don't you have to get to work? Geez!!! I'm digging in my purse for my money/debit card (that is filled with normal purse stuff plus legos, action figures, and disgusting bubble gum). I start to panic. I cannot find my wallet. As I'm now, at the window, I tell Tiffany (the drive thru attendant who knows me by name, is that wierd?) and I'm giving her that finger as if to say, "just a second".....reaching with my other hand trying to feel for my wallet that may have fallen in the backseat. She says, "The lady in front of you has paid for your coffee and wanted me to tell you Merry Christmas."
A flood of guilt consumes my body. How thoughtful. I do that all the time BUT have never had anyone do that to/for me. On occasion, the baristas will give me coffee for free but never a patron in line ahead of me. I did find my wallet. Kasyn was holding it for me, pulling out all of the cards and throwing them on the floor.
Tiffany, "Khaki, do you have the boys with you today? Do you want some animal crackers?" Me, "Yes, please. And if she comes through here again, tell her thank you so much. I truly appreciate it." Tiffany, "After she offered to pay and I saw that it was your van, I told her that you were a regular and that you were a single mom of 3 little boys, probably not a more deserving person." Me, "Thank you so much! That's really sweet of both of you."
Then, off to the school where I'm still 13 minutes until showtime.....which means you sit in the very back row. And I would like to inform all the parents at that school (except for Chloe's mom, of course) that their kid's part wasn't that important and that they need to sit down in their seats so I can SEE, HEAR, FILM, and FOCUS on Kyan pretending to be juggling...the cutest of all 5 clowns on stage, might I add. In fact, I don't even know what the play was about....aside from a Christmas Toy Shop....I was too busy playing limbo, and doing my own cirque de soleil, through the sea of filming parents trying to get video and pics of MY CLOWN so Kevin, Gramaw, Granpa, Aunt Nini, Uncle Jojo, and Uncle Bubba could see it. Oh and the school also has an audience control police.....to which I ignored. :-)
I was proud of my clown...and managed to laugh when I got back to my seat in the very back row and saw Kasyn drinking the remainder of my latte....the rest of my morning should be full of adventure. I love my life, however chaotic.
Take time to taste the coffee....and enjoy moments...appreciate life.
Alarm goes off at 5:35 a.m. and I begin to suit up my adorable clown. He was going to wear one of my white blouses (don't ever tell him he wore a woman's blouse or he'd die), black vest, pajama pants (to which I had to make sure were the Transformer pants, cleaned and ready), grandpa's tie (which thankfully he tied before giving us), a red nose, face painted clown smile, and a hat....which Kyan picked out at Party City the other night and said he was so happy because it looked like a Michael Jackson hat. Issues I will address post-puberty, I'm sure....the desire to be like MJ.
I asked Kyan what his lines were in this play. He looked at me with disgust, actually, he looked at me with a scrunched up face that I realize I make all too often because it was definitely a "Khaki expression"....and says, 'NO Mommy, I picked a clown so I wouldn't have to talk. I just stand there and pretend to juggle.'
Clown is ready and as I'm getting ready, begging the others to follow suit so we won't be late, Kyan starts dressing Kasyn who is more concerned with where the lego man's legs are. Needless to say, a spanking later, several screams, crying, fit throwing, and me with wet hair, we're as ready as we'll ever be and all boys havemiraculously been fed. My apartment looks like Paris Hilton's closet has thrown up.
I drop off the most adorable looking clown and he's EARLY. Then I take the twins to zip by Grandma's to pick up the iFlip so I can film it for my family who can't make it. Sweet, I still have 20 minutes before the play starts and it's right across the street. I do have time for coffee afterall. Where was the magicaly delicious cup of wake-me-up at 5 a.m.? I should plan better but fell asleep on the couch amidst piles of laundry I was folding...ya win some, ya lose some.
Anyone that knows me, knows I hate being late to anything and sometimes just won't show up if I'm that late. And all too often, Kyan is late to school. Albeit, only by a few minutes. I hate it and someday he can thank his little brother Kasyn for the morning tantrums. Thank God for a minivan w/ automatic doors, a stop, drop, and roll exit in the carpool line, and shoes that 'make you run fast'.....oh and the bribe of a few quarters to get some ice cream in the lunch line if he makes it to the door by the time the van gets up to the Parking Lot Nazi lady. Give a woman an orange vest and a stop sign and she can rule the world....so she thinks.
So, I go to the coffee shop on the way to Ky's school. I prefer Starbucks but this place is pretty good, just slow. But what's this, no line.....just one car already at the window. I order. I pull up to the window and we wait....and wait...and wait. The lady has been handed her coffee and is gabbing at the lady. Hello!!! She must've missed the memo that Kyan Williams has a school play this morning!?!?!?! GO, Lady!!!!! Don't you have to get to work? Geez!!! I'm digging in my purse for my money/debit card (that is filled with normal purse stuff plus legos, action figures, and disgusting bubble gum). I start to panic. I cannot find my wallet. As I'm now, at the window, I tell Tiffany (the drive thru attendant who knows me by name, is that wierd?) and I'm giving her that finger as if to say, "just a second".....reaching with my other hand trying to feel for my wallet that may have fallen in the backseat. She says, "The lady in front of you has paid for your coffee and wanted me to tell you Merry Christmas."
A flood of guilt consumes my body. How thoughtful. I do that all the time BUT have never had anyone do that to/for me. On occasion, the baristas will give me coffee for free but never a patron in line ahead of me. I did find my wallet. Kasyn was holding it for me, pulling out all of the cards and throwing them on the floor.
Tiffany, "Khaki, do you have the boys with you today? Do you want some animal crackers?" Me, "Yes, please. And if she comes through here again, tell her thank you so much. I truly appreciate it." Tiffany, "After she offered to pay and I saw that it was your van, I told her that you were a regular and that you were a single mom of 3 little boys, probably not a more deserving person." Me, "Thank you so much! That's really sweet of both of you."
Then, off to the school where I'm still 13 minutes until showtime.....which means you sit in the very back row. And I would like to inform all the parents at that school (except for Chloe's mom, of course) that their kid's part wasn't that important and that they need to sit down in their seats so I can SEE, HEAR, FILM, and FOCUS on Kyan pretending to be juggling...the cutest of all 5 clowns on stage, might I add. In fact, I don't even know what the play was about....aside from a Christmas Toy Shop....I was too busy playing limbo, and doing my own cirque de soleil, through the sea of filming parents trying to get video and pics of MY CLOWN so Kevin, Gramaw, Granpa, Aunt Nini, Uncle Jojo, and Uncle Bubba could see it. Oh and the school also has an audience control police.....to which I ignored. :-)
I was proud of my clown...and managed to laugh when I got back to my seat in the very back row and saw Kasyn drinking the remainder of my latte....the rest of my morning should be full of adventure. I love my life, however chaotic.
Take time to taste the coffee....and enjoy moments...appreciate life.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Warrior....dash, life, every day
"Its in these moments we find who we really are" ....Jillian Patrick
Ahhh, today was my day...the day I had looked forward to/dreaded since August (see Fat Camp blog). Today was the Warrior Dash. 3.2 miles, 11 obstacles, mud, fire, water, terrain, hay bales, ropes, walls, tires, sweat, cold, fun, and in my case, sibling rivalry, growth, and perspective.
Woke up this morning running a bit behind schedule. We were supposed to be there an hour before our wave started, which was at 9 am. And funny, the person that chose that early time, bailed on us. One of our team members got sick this week and couldn't come. The other one, never even registered. So, wouldn't you know, the Wakefield sisters are at it again. Have I mentioned how much I love doing anything athletic with my sister? Oh yeah, I don't. She's like some ex-All Star basketball player, ex-Navy, cyclist, gym junkie, P90X, hearts things like Insanity. I even used her computer last night and some Excel spreadsheet was on her screen...not a budget, not a work program, an Insanity schedule. I did my fair share of sports growing up. Volleyball and soccer and yeah, sure, I was good. Starter, A-Team, select player but was considered "the smart child" but in my mind considered myself "the fat sister" (even though I wasn't overweight) in comparison to my siblings. Neen was the athletic one. Quincy, depending on year, was "the creative one" also "the funny one"...Standing in the kitchen, Neen says, "Oh since no one is going to show up today (our team), I'm going to go for best time. You're on your own."
So we're off to a late start, Neen is screaming at "Betty" (her GPS) and we arrive 30 mins before our start time. We grab our registration packets and run back to the car to put up our warrior hats and t-shirts. So, Neen is running ahead of me to open the trunk and I fall. Right in the parking lot, which is actually a cleared field and I tripped over a stick. People are walking into the event, much like you could picture a concert's flock of fans would be. I was so effin embarrassed. What does my sister do/say? Keeps running looking back and saying, "Pick up your feet, Khaki!! Is this how its going to be today?" I get to the car and throw our stuff in the trunk. Yes, I was carrying her shit too. Bitch. I wanted to deck her. Hell, a part of me wanted to just sit in the front seat and pout until she apologized.
Flashback: Church Camp, 1996. I'm carrying 2 gallons of milk to our condo in Panama City Beach, FL. My mom is forcing us to go to this church camp to make friends in our new city, Dallas. I busted on the asphalt and there goes my condo's weekly milk ration. Scraped up my knees and hands and was mortified. Neen, doesn't help me. Laughs. Oh and the things I had to do that week for her. She had broken both wrists and was casted. BOTH effin arms. Who helped her use the bathroom, shower, get trays of food, oh and yeah, rescue her ass when she decided to go wave jumping out to sea? Me.
I find that people in my lately don't really react the same way to situations like I do/would/hope that I would if in their shoes. But I didn't. I mustered up a laugh and shook it off. FML.
We pin our bibs on and tie our chips to our shoes and back at it again. We've been here 15 minutes and I feel like doing high knees on the way back in out of fear for falling again. Have I mentioned I have a HUGE fear of public humiliation? In the top 3, fears of mine.
We are walking around to the starting line. I'm already seeing some really crazy stuff and I'm loving it. People in teams. True teams. As in, they all dressed in Ninja turtle outfits, superhero outfits, crazy home-grown pieced together creativity. I think its awesome and half wished at that point I was a part of something like that. Standing at the starting line, I look at people. I get kind of quiet. I'm nervous. I want to puke. There are people of all shapes and sizes. All athletic abilities which is why I even signed up for this race. Someone mentioned that there were up to 650 people in each wave. I definitely think there were at least 200 in our's but I'm not sure. I kept hearing teams chant things like, "No man gets left behind." Even saw some shirts w/ that printed. I just felt very out of place. Then my mind starting racing on its own, random thoughts.
Wonder what the boys are doing? I hope Kevin remembers to send back Kyan's backpack back home. What time will I have to leave tomorrow to get them? Wonder if Braden and Darla are having fun back in Amarillo. Wish they were here. No, I don't. Yes, I do. No, I don't. How sweet of Jenny to send me that text msg yesterday. I wish she was here. Yes, I do. Is today Drea's birthday or is it tomorrow? Wish someone was here to take pics of us. Wonder if Tim is feeling better? Why hasn't he texted me this morning? When do we start? How many more minutes? This will be my first/last of these. I think we forgot to bring a towel. Am I going to get trampled when we start? Fall again? Man, my knees hurt.
And then, off we go.
I started out pacing myself. People running past me and I didn't care. As the masses passed me and I was keeping up w/ Neen, I was beginning to breathe hard. She proceeds to tell me, "You need to regulate your breathing better." Oh really? Ok. So I do what she says and then just said, "Go ahead. Really." And I slowed down to what I like to call a mall walk pace. There was no one in front of me for about 8 yards and no one behind me about that same distance. Cool, I can think. THEN I began to wonder how far apart the waves were. Was the next one going to start and people from that one pass me? Oh that's effin great. Every so often my sister would stop and cheer me on. But I wasn't sure if it was sarcasm or genuine. We did the cars first. Climbing over junk cars. Then tires. That was fun. I just walked on top of them. Yay, obstacles one and two, done. Then I was just pissed off. Just pissed off that I was even there. Wishing I had cancelled. BUT if I say I'm going to do something, I do it. And I signed up for this, so I'm going to do it. My friends flaked out on spectating. I did tell Tiff and Diane, a few friends that wanted to come, not to. I just wanted to get it over and done with. Our "team" was missing. I was not a happy girl at this point.
I started listening to a team behind me. One guy, three girls. The guy was hilarious. He was totally encouraging them. I liked it. He said, "C'mon ladies, no one gets left behind." I said, "Yeah, that's what my team said and do you see anyone with me?" They actually jogged up a little faster to catch up to me and said, "You're on this team now." We were doing stupid shit like "spirit sprinkles"....well, that's what James called my rendition of "jazz hands"...we ran, sprinted, walked, jogged, joked, laughed, and splashed through the creek, grunted up the hill, raced up the wall, scooted over the planks (which were so easy, at this point of pep in my step, might've been able to do cartwheels on the planks). Wow, did I just make it up the wall? Why yes, you did, Khaki. One of the obstacles you were stressing over, DONE!
I'm starting to have some fun and am glad that I'm there. Hello, rope bed though. Like a rope wall only no incline and elevated off the ground about 5-6 feet. So I have to climb up this wall and spider crawl on some fierce rope netting. I can see Neen. She's looking back at me, "Ass up, Khaki, like this." Nah, I don't want to do that. My legs are tired. I will just wait until the coast is clear and roll through this bitch. And I did. I log rolled across the 3 sections of this obstacle. So, while I have a fear of public humilation, sometimes I do things that one would think would be embarrassing and don't care. I'm just about to pull myself up to get off the obstacle when this lady, not all that small, is wearing pink Asics and my fingers are under her foot and she's struggling, using all her weight on that one foot, I swear, to get out of the net. I'm laughing and yelling at the same time. Fingers were cold and tingly after that. Nothing major though.
We're at a paced jog and I'm thinking, "How much longer?" James, Sandra, Tracy, and Alexis are still cracking jokes and we're all encouraging one another. James made a comment, "I think your sister is trying to tell us something." I said, "How so?" She's way the hell up there. He said, "Exactly." I laughed in a you-don't-know-the-half-of-it-don't-start kind of way and sped up to finish the race with her. As fast as my random thoughts often pass through my mind, they came again.
You can do this. This isn't THAT hard. Quit making it harder than it is. You've accomplished things in your life alot harder than a freakin, FUN, obstacle course. There's hot mud you're about to dive into up there. Wouldn't it be cool if my friends that told me they weren't coming actually came and surprised me? Tell me I can't and I'll show you I can.
Oh and what's this, random thoughts interrupted, brunette barbie just passed me, wearing a pink sports bra, black spandex shorts, matching running shoes, and sporting rock hard abs, hardly panting, like a gazelle, and it dawns on me...the NEXT wave of people are coming..there's no way in hell she's from my wave of people. They are now passing us/me. Now, my goal was NOT to be first. I mean, that's not a reasonable expectation to have. But it damn sure wasn't to be passed by someone I had a 30 minute start against....and it damn sure isn't to be last of my wave. So, I saw the rope wall and was smiling and really glad because I was 3 obstacles away from the finish line.
As I'm climbing up the rope wall, a photographer is behind the netting. He says, "That's the prettiest smile I've seen all day." I said, "So take a picture!" He said, "Got it." Then he's telling me to be careful and reach left, and I'm like, "I got this!!!"
Neen is at the bottom cheering me on. At this point, I think she's genuine. We jumped over the cheesy make-shift fire pit, then dove into the mud where we crawled on our hands and knees. These last 3 obstacles were so close to the finish line that spectators are watching us at this point. I just don't even want to make ey contact w/ any of them. Get me out of here and amidst the mud-covered masses w/ a medal around my neck so I can go home.
We finish. A lady puts a medal on my neck. I look back at the race and see quite a few people approaching the finish line and was comforted, proud, relieved, happy.....I wasn't last. I finished. And it ended up being fun.
Then me and Neen get to the car and forgot to bring a towel. Covered in mud. Now, I have this huge reservation about my body. And so this is funny. Neen is wanting to look for the showers. I'm like, "Just open your car doors, change between them." And she says, "You, YOU are going to just change out here?" I take off my shirt right in the parking lot, and yes, changed right there. I piled up all my muddy clothes, put on dry ones and was done. Proud. Accomplished. Finished.
I know it was just a silly race to most people. But to me, it was more than that. It was overcoming many things. And I gained perspective on so much while I was out there. Mission Accomplished.
Fun Fact: There was a guy who finished the entire race in 18 minutes. Wow. I tried to check the stats to see who had the best time and where exactly I "placed" but it wasn't posted at the time of this blog.
Ahhh, today was my day...the day I had looked forward to/dreaded since August (see Fat Camp blog). Today was the Warrior Dash. 3.2 miles, 11 obstacles, mud, fire, water, terrain, hay bales, ropes, walls, tires, sweat, cold, fun, and in my case, sibling rivalry, growth, and perspective.
Woke up this morning running a bit behind schedule. We were supposed to be there an hour before our wave started, which was at 9 am. And funny, the person that chose that early time, bailed on us. One of our team members got sick this week and couldn't come. The other one, never even registered. So, wouldn't you know, the Wakefield sisters are at it again. Have I mentioned how much I love doing anything athletic with my sister? Oh yeah, I don't. She's like some ex-All Star basketball player, ex-Navy, cyclist, gym junkie, P90X, hearts things like Insanity. I even used her computer last night and some Excel spreadsheet was on her screen...not a budget, not a work program, an Insanity schedule. I did my fair share of sports growing up. Volleyball and soccer and yeah, sure, I was good. Starter, A-Team, select player but was considered "the smart child" but in my mind considered myself "the fat sister" (even though I wasn't overweight) in comparison to my siblings. Neen was the athletic one. Quincy, depending on year, was "the creative one" also "the funny one"...Standing in the kitchen, Neen says, "Oh since no one is going to show up today (our team), I'm going to go for best time. You're on your own."
So we're off to a late start, Neen is screaming at "Betty" (her GPS) and we arrive 30 mins before our start time. We grab our registration packets and run back to the car to put up our warrior hats and t-shirts. So, Neen is running ahead of me to open the trunk and I fall. Right in the parking lot, which is actually a cleared field and I tripped over a stick. People are walking into the event, much like you could picture a concert's flock of fans would be. I was so effin embarrassed. What does my sister do/say? Keeps running looking back and saying, "Pick up your feet, Khaki!! Is this how its going to be today?" I get to the car and throw our stuff in the trunk. Yes, I was carrying her shit too. Bitch. I wanted to deck her. Hell, a part of me wanted to just sit in the front seat and pout until she apologized.
Flashback: Church Camp, 1996. I'm carrying 2 gallons of milk to our condo in Panama City Beach, FL. My mom is forcing us to go to this church camp to make friends in our new city, Dallas. I busted on the asphalt and there goes my condo's weekly milk ration. Scraped up my knees and hands and was mortified. Neen, doesn't help me. Laughs. Oh and the things I had to do that week for her. She had broken both wrists and was casted. BOTH effin arms. Who helped her use the bathroom, shower, get trays of food, oh and yeah, rescue her ass when she decided to go wave jumping out to sea? Me.
I find that people in my lately don't really react the same way to situations like I do/would/hope that I would if in their shoes. But I didn't. I mustered up a laugh and shook it off. FML.
We pin our bibs on and tie our chips to our shoes and back at it again. We've been here 15 minutes and I feel like doing high knees on the way back in out of fear for falling again. Have I mentioned I have a HUGE fear of public humiliation? In the top 3, fears of mine.
We are walking around to the starting line. I'm already seeing some really crazy stuff and I'm loving it. People in teams. True teams. As in, they all dressed in Ninja turtle outfits, superhero outfits, crazy home-grown pieced together creativity. I think its awesome and half wished at that point I was a part of something like that. Standing at the starting line, I look at people. I get kind of quiet. I'm nervous. I want to puke. There are people of all shapes and sizes. All athletic abilities which is why I even signed up for this race. Someone mentioned that there were up to 650 people in each wave. I definitely think there were at least 200 in our's but I'm not sure. I kept hearing teams chant things like, "No man gets left behind." Even saw some shirts w/ that printed. I just felt very out of place. Then my mind starting racing on its own, random thoughts.
Wonder what the boys are doing? I hope Kevin remembers to send back Kyan's backpack back home. What time will I have to leave tomorrow to get them? Wonder if Braden and Darla are having fun back in Amarillo. Wish they were here. No, I don't. Yes, I do. No, I don't. How sweet of Jenny to send me that text msg yesterday. I wish she was here. Yes, I do. Is today Drea's birthday or is it tomorrow? Wish someone was here to take pics of us. Wonder if Tim is feeling better? Why hasn't he texted me this morning? When do we start? How many more minutes? This will be my first/last of these. I think we forgot to bring a towel. Am I going to get trampled when we start? Fall again? Man, my knees hurt.
And then, off we go.
I started out pacing myself. People running past me and I didn't care. As the masses passed me and I was keeping up w/ Neen, I was beginning to breathe hard. She proceeds to tell me, "You need to regulate your breathing better." Oh really? Ok. So I do what she says and then just said, "Go ahead. Really." And I slowed down to what I like to call a mall walk pace. There was no one in front of me for about 8 yards and no one behind me about that same distance. Cool, I can think. THEN I began to wonder how far apart the waves were. Was the next one going to start and people from that one pass me? Oh that's effin great. Every so often my sister would stop and cheer me on. But I wasn't sure if it was sarcasm or genuine. We did the cars first. Climbing over junk cars. Then tires. That was fun. I just walked on top of them. Yay, obstacles one and two, done. Then I was just pissed off. Just pissed off that I was even there. Wishing I had cancelled. BUT if I say I'm going to do something, I do it. And I signed up for this, so I'm going to do it. My friends flaked out on spectating. I did tell Tiff and Diane, a few friends that wanted to come, not to. I just wanted to get it over and done with. Our "team" was missing. I was not a happy girl at this point.
I started listening to a team behind me. One guy, three girls. The guy was hilarious. He was totally encouraging them. I liked it. He said, "C'mon ladies, no one gets left behind." I said, "Yeah, that's what my team said and do you see anyone with me?" They actually jogged up a little faster to catch up to me and said, "You're on this team now." We were doing stupid shit like "spirit sprinkles"....well, that's what James called my rendition of "jazz hands"...we ran, sprinted, walked, jogged, joked, laughed, and splashed through the creek, grunted up the hill, raced up the wall, scooted over the planks (which were so easy, at this point of pep in my step, might've been able to do cartwheels on the planks). Wow, did I just make it up the wall? Why yes, you did, Khaki. One of the obstacles you were stressing over, DONE!
I'm starting to have some fun and am glad that I'm there. Hello, rope bed though. Like a rope wall only no incline and elevated off the ground about 5-6 feet. So I have to climb up this wall and spider crawl on some fierce rope netting. I can see Neen. She's looking back at me, "Ass up, Khaki, like this." Nah, I don't want to do that. My legs are tired. I will just wait until the coast is clear and roll through this bitch. And I did. I log rolled across the 3 sections of this obstacle. So, while I have a fear of public humilation, sometimes I do things that one would think would be embarrassing and don't care. I'm just about to pull myself up to get off the obstacle when this lady, not all that small, is wearing pink Asics and my fingers are under her foot and she's struggling, using all her weight on that one foot, I swear, to get out of the net. I'm laughing and yelling at the same time. Fingers were cold and tingly after that. Nothing major though.
We're at a paced jog and I'm thinking, "How much longer?" James, Sandra, Tracy, and Alexis are still cracking jokes and we're all encouraging one another. James made a comment, "I think your sister is trying to tell us something." I said, "How so?" She's way the hell up there. He said, "Exactly." I laughed in a you-don't-know-the-half-of-it-don't-start kind of way and sped up to finish the race with her. As fast as my random thoughts often pass through my mind, they came again.
You can do this. This isn't THAT hard. Quit making it harder than it is. You've accomplished things in your life alot harder than a freakin, FUN, obstacle course. There's hot mud you're about to dive into up there. Wouldn't it be cool if my friends that told me they weren't coming actually came and surprised me? Tell me I can't and I'll show you I can.
Oh and what's this, random thoughts interrupted, brunette barbie just passed me, wearing a pink sports bra, black spandex shorts, matching running shoes, and sporting rock hard abs, hardly panting, like a gazelle, and it dawns on me...the NEXT wave of people are coming..there's no way in hell she's from my wave of people. They are now passing us/me. Now, my goal was NOT to be first. I mean, that's not a reasonable expectation to have. But it damn sure wasn't to be passed by someone I had a 30 minute start against....and it damn sure isn't to be last of my wave. So, I saw the rope wall and was smiling and really glad because I was 3 obstacles away from the finish line.
As I'm climbing up the rope wall, a photographer is behind the netting. He says, "That's the prettiest smile I've seen all day." I said, "So take a picture!" He said, "Got it." Then he's telling me to be careful and reach left, and I'm like, "I got this!!!"
Neen is at the bottom cheering me on. At this point, I think she's genuine. We jumped over the cheesy make-shift fire pit, then dove into the mud where we crawled on our hands and knees. These last 3 obstacles were so close to the finish line that spectators are watching us at this point. I just don't even want to make ey contact w/ any of them. Get me out of here and amidst the mud-covered masses w/ a medal around my neck so I can go home.
We finish. A lady puts a medal on my neck. I look back at the race and see quite a few people approaching the finish line and was comforted, proud, relieved, happy.....I wasn't last. I finished. And it ended up being fun.
Then me and Neen get to the car and forgot to bring a towel. Covered in mud. Now, I have this huge reservation about my body. And so this is funny. Neen is wanting to look for the showers. I'm like, "Just open your car doors, change between them." And she says, "You, YOU are going to just change out here?" I take off my shirt right in the parking lot, and yes, changed right there. I piled up all my muddy clothes, put on dry ones and was done. Proud. Accomplished. Finished.
I know it was just a silly race to most people. But to me, it was more than that. It was overcoming many things. And I gained perspective on so much while I was out there. Mission Accomplished.
Fun Fact: There was a guy who finished the entire race in 18 minutes. Wow. I tried to check the stats to see who had the best time and where exactly I "placed" but it wasn't posted at the time of this blog.
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