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.
Sunday, February 6, 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.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wishing for someday
Me to my brother via text: Yeah, well somedays I feel like I'm going to just break. Perhaps, today.
Him back to me via text: Someday we will look back and laugh.
With that said, here's to wishing it were someday.....here's my cup of broken emptiness barely held up, tears filling up my eyes so much that I can hardly see the computer screen to type this, in one blink, tears will stream down my cheeks and fall on my lap....my lap, where my gray Banana Republic dress pants have icing stains from a kid who decided he didn't want the purple cupcake today at the Halloween party, the chili cheese blob that dripped out of the burrito while we grabbed dinner en route on the way to church, and the saggy backside from sitting at my desk all day long......heart pounding, head throbbing, big fucking cheers to someday.
I've learned in the course of the last year that I tend to push people away when I get like this. Not that it happens often, but I do. I feel like I carry the world on my shoulders most days and God forbid I show signs of weary or even a fucking breaking point because that, is failure. And so many women in my shoes bitch and moan about how hard life is and I'm going to be the exception. I'm going to prove that I can do this and do it well. Fail. Epic fail. It's fucking hard and I hate my life right now. And those tears mentioned only a paragraph before are now sobs. That stream of tears is now 3 streams of tears. My face is flooding. "They" say sometimes a good cry does the mind, body, and soul good but I fight it. I used to be such an emotionally raw person. And aside from remembering the exact date, I can almost tell you exactly the moment I became cold. Kevin and I were fighting once and the fight was because I was feeling neglected as a wife. Nothing sexual. Just attention. So, I was telling him how sad I felt and I remember him saying to me this, "And quit w/ the fucking tears, Khaki, they don't work with me. Your tears mean jack shit." And I can play the echo in my head...."my tears mean jack shit.....my tears mean jack shit...."
So, every fight after that became anger driven instead of expressing sadness, I expressed anger. And he shuts down at anger. Here I sit, feeling broken.....and wouldn't ya know, 10 years on this day I was dressed beautifully in my wedding gown vowing to Kevin til death do us part that I would honor, cherish, blah fucking blah......and today, I sit here divorced.
I'm not sad that I'm divorced. Because being married to Kevin was toxic. Let's face it, if I were feeling sad today, while married, my tears would mean jack shit, right? But I have this emptiness inside and my mind wishes for someone that my tears would matter to.....or does it really? I'm not sure that's it either. I don't cry often. I've only cried a handful of times since my divorce but lately, I feel like I'm on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Like I can't get a grip on anything. Plans constantly falling through, kids acting insane, just life has all of a sudden become unmanageable for me. I don't know where to start so that I can regroup. I give so much of myself to everyone else and when I take time for me, I feel guilty.
Today we had this 4 hour team building meeting. We were given a homework assignment on Monday that we had to list 3 qualities about each person on our team and share them at the meeting. So, there are 7 people on my team. We have 17 accountants but only 7 report to my direct boss. So, out of everyone on the team, I'm the one that everyone said was, "Cheerful, Happy, Funny, Witty, Awesome sense of humor, Always so positive, Motivating, Awe-inspiring, Admirable, Caring, Compassionate, Creative, Makes me laugh daily, Breath of fresh air, No matter how much she has on her plate or how overworked she is always smiling." Seriously, have we met? I've worked there a year now. Good game, Khaki. (eyeroll) I hear that alot....about my smile and about my sense of humor. Well, at least I can make other people laugh.
I just wish I knew my purpose. I find it really hard to believe that I was put on this fucking earth to sit in an office and crunch numbers all day. I remember Jodi, SOX Compliance Director at Fogo, asking me to footnote some financials once. I figured it out, thanks to Google. And dropped the files back to her office and she said, "No, send them to Pricewaterhouse to this address." Ummm, wow, she didn't even want to look at them. Send them straight to the auditors, huh? Then a few weeks later, she got the audit report back and there were no corrections to be done. She tells me, "you're such a natural at this, Khaki. I've never seen anything like it." Ok, Jodi, who has a double CPA, one from South Africa which is the hardest one to get, and one from the U.S. that everyone I know w/ a CPA has failed at least once before obtaining those three glorious letters after their name called me, Khaki, the girl who bullshits her way through most things, "a natural" when it comes to accounting. HA! Do people even know this girl? The one I see in the mirror everyday? I mean, really.
Behind all this bullshit is someone that wants more in life. I'm not right. Something about me just isn't right lately and I can't figure it out.
Another funny, a boy (I call them that because I can and feel like it) asked me to be his girlfriend this week. He's pretty enamored with me. I keep telling him, "Hi, I'm Khaki, have we met? I have 3 kids." He doesn't have children, is 28, a'ight looking, nice guy, funny, very smart, witty, and charming.....so why aren't I interested in him? I don't know. I tell my friends about him and they say, "Wow, go for it." He lives in Houston, which if you think about it, could be a great set-up. He wouldn't be up my ass every day. I only have every other weekend free to date anyway, right? Houston could be fun. Give me something to look forward to? No, bullshit. It's not that I find something wrong w/ everyone I meet. I think its that I'm not interested in dating, period. I'm not. At all. I used to be so eager when my phone would light up or go off or blink and now, I don't care.
Me and my friend Carly were talking about being that "someday girl" to someone. You know, the girl that is just perfect....someday. So, that guy, Tim, that asked me to be his girlfriend said to me, "I'm not looking for someday girl. I want to snatch you up before someone else does. I want you as my right now girlfriend."
Someday girl desires to laugh right now.
In fact, Saturday night, I'm going by myself to Cap City Comedy Club to see Gary Guhlman. Because I want to laugh. So badly, I desire to laugh. I'm hoping for gut wrenching hurt so fucking hard laughter....like I had at the Haunted House a few weeks ago w/ Jillian.
Anyway, the tears are gone and its time for a shower. Here's to somefuckingday....when someday girl can someday look back at today and laugh.........someday.
Him back to me via text: Someday we will look back and laugh.
With that said, here's to wishing it were someday.....here's my cup of broken emptiness barely held up, tears filling up my eyes so much that I can hardly see the computer screen to type this, in one blink, tears will stream down my cheeks and fall on my lap....my lap, where my gray Banana Republic dress pants have icing stains from a kid who decided he didn't want the purple cupcake today at the Halloween party, the chili cheese blob that dripped out of the burrito while we grabbed dinner en route on the way to church, and the saggy backside from sitting at my desk all day long......heart pounding, head throbbing, big fucking cheers to someday.
I've learned in the course of the last year that I tend to push people away when I get like this. Not that it happens often, but I do. I feel like I carry the world on my shoulders most days and God forbid I show signs of weary or even a fucking breaking point because that, is failure. And so many women in my shoes bitch and moan about how hard life is and I'm going to be the exception. I'm going to prove that I can do this and do it well. Fail. Epic fail. It's fucking hard and I hate my life right now. And those tears mentioned only a paragraph before are now sobs. That stream of tears is now 3 streams of tears. My face is flooding. "They" say sometimes a good cry does the mind, body, and soul good but I fight it. I used to be such an emotionally raw person. And aside from remembering the exact date, I can almost tell you exactly the moment I became cold. Kevin and I were fighting once and the fight was because I was feeling neglected as a wife. Nothing sexual. Just attention. So, I was telling him how sad I felt and I remember him saying to me this, "And quit w/ the fucking tears, Khaki, they don't work with me. Your tears mean jack shit." And I can play the echo in my head...."my tears mean jack shit.....my tears mean jack shit...."
So, every fight after that became anger driven instead of expressing sadness, I expressed anger. And he shuts down at anger. Here I sit, feeling broken.....and wouldn't ya know, 10 years on this day I was dressed beautifully in my wedding gown vowing to Kevin til death do us part that I would honor, cherish, blah fucking blah......and today, I sit here divorced.
I'm not sad that I'm divorced. Because being married to Kevin was toxic. Let's face it, if I were feeling sad today, while married, my tears would mean jack shit, right? But I have this emptiness inside and my mind wishes for someone that my tears would matter to.....or does it really? I'm not sure that's it either. I don't cry often. I've only cried a handful of times since my divorce but lately, I feel like I'm on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Like I can't get a grip on anything. Plans constantly falling through, kids acting insane, just life has all of a sudden become unmanageable for me. I don't know where to start so that I can regroup. I give so much of myself to everyone else and when I take time for me, I feel guilty.
Today we had this 4 hour team building meeting. We were given a homework assignment on Monday that we had to list 3 qualities about each person on our team and share them at the meeting. So, there are 7 people on my team. We have 17 accountants but only 7 report to my direct boss. So, out of everyone on the team, I'm the one that everyone said was, "Cheerful, Happy, Funny, Witty, Awesome sense of humor, Always so positive, Motivating, Awe-inspiring, Admirable, Caring, Compassionate, Creative, Makes me laugh daily, Breath of fresh air, No matter how much she has on her plate or how overworked she is always smiling." Seriously, have we met? I've worked there a year now. Good game, Khaki. (eyeroll) I hear that alot....about my smile and about my sense of humor. Well, at least I can make other people laugh.
I just wish I knew my purpose. I find it really hard to believe that I was put on this fucking earth to sit in an office and crunch numbers all day. I remember Jodi, SOX Compliance Director at Fogo, asking me to footnote some financials once. I figured it out, thanks to Google. And dropped the files back to her office and she said, "No, send them to Pricewaterhouse to this address." Ummm, wow, she didn't even want to look at them. Send them straight to the auditors, huh? Then a few weeks later, she got the audit report back and there were no corrections to be done. She tells me, "you're such a natural at this, Khaki. I've never seen anything like it." Ok, Jodi, who has a double CPA, one from South Africa which is the hardest one to get, and one from the U.S. that everyone I know w/ a CPA has failed at least once before obtaining those three glorious letters after their name called me, Khaki, the girl who bullshits her way through most things, "a natural" when it comes to accounting. HA! Do people even know this girl? The one I see in the mirror everyday? I mean, really.
Behind all this bullshit is someone that wants more in life. I'm not right. Something about me just isn't right lately and I can't figure it out.
Another funny, a boy (I call them that because I can and feel like it) asked me to be his girlfriend this week. He's pretty enamored with me. I keep telling him, "Hi, I'm Khaki, have we met? I have 3 kids." He doesn't have children, is 28, a'ight looking, nice guy, funny, very smart, witty, and charming.....so why aren't I interested in him? I don't know. I tell my friends about him and they say, "Wow, go for it." He lives in Houston, which if you think about it, could be a great set-up. He wouldn't be up my ass every day. I only have every other weekend free to date anyway, right? Houston could be fun. Give me something to look forward to? No, bullshit. It's not that I find something wrong w/ everyone I meet. I think its that I'm not interested in dating, period. I'm not. At all. I used to be so eager when my phone would light up or go off or blink and now, I don't care.
Me and my friend Carly were talking about being that "someday girl" to someone. You know, the girl that is just perfect....someday. So, that guy, Tim, that asked me to be his girlfriend said to me, "I'm not looking for someday girl. I want to snatch you up before someone else does. I want you as my right now girlfriend."
Someday girl desires to laugh right now.
In fact, Saturday night, I'm going by myself to Cap City Comedy Club to see Gary Guhlman. Because I want to laugh. So badly, I desire to laugh. I'm hoping for gut wrenching hurt so fucking hard laughter....like I had at the Haunted House a few weeks ago w/ Jillian.
Anyway, the tears are gone and its time for a shower. Here's to somefuckingday....when someday girl can someday look back at today and laugh.........someday.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
I hate carrots, not those carrots, the dangling kind....
So, I expressed my gratitude last week for all things wonderful despite my unfortunate situation and today, it's killing me. I'm so pissed off.
I finally did the math on my situation. As an accountant, I try to avoid it when I can but today I got curious. I shouldn't have done that. Just over $2000 in personal effects/losses were taken from me. Most of you know I'm a very independent person. You know, that smile you see when you look at me that says, "Hey, I'm a cute single mother of 3 boys with my shit together....." Uh huh, that one? Well its gone today and I am furious. I've got a look on my face that says "Stay the @#$%^&* away from me."
Since September 26th, I've had more shards of glass in my fingers/ hands than I ever thought possible from a broken window (even after an hour of vacuuming). I've talked to more people in India than I ever cared to. I've met the Assistant Vice President of Chase Bank. I've had to issue a fraud alert on my ss#, fill out a stack of forms, research on the internet, etc, etc, etc. Today, I received the final credit card replacement.
So, today I also watched the lovely folks out at Zilker Park setting up for ACL Music Festival from my work window. Inside my purse were 2 tickets to ACL. This was my treat to myself. I actually have talked for months about what I was going to do with my wedding ring. After a year and a half of wondering what to do with it, I decided to sell it. I didn't even really care all that much if I got what it was worth. I needed to get rid of it for my own emotional closure to the divorce. I offered to give it back to my ex-husband. He asked me to keep it. Every time I saw it, I thought about all the memories and let's not forget about the vows that went with it. It needed to be gone. Part of me was hopeful it would be enough money to take a quick trip by myself over the Christmas holiday. A trip to anywhere but here since this will be the first Christmas (of many) that my boys will be gone. It wasn't but it was enough to pay my babysitter to camp out at the student sale and get me tickets to an awesome music concert for a weekend. I've checked craigslist in Dallas/Austin all day and I just can't spend the $200+ they want for another ticket. Counting what I already spent, that would be crazy. It's not like John Mayer is going. That would be ignorant. My boss has sent me every single internet/radio contest out there to win tickets.
I got 2 tickets and was going to give one of my BGF's first dibs because 1) he's never been and mentioned it several months ago. His bday is coming up and it was going to be a Happy Bday. 2) I wanted someone to go with 3) Even if he couldn't go, one of my newest girlfriends wanted to go, we seem to hit it off and have fun together. 4) I knew I could get rid of it.
So, it has got me wondering: Why do bad things happen to good people? Who does this sort of thing? WTH were they thinking? Why? Why me? They have used enough of my debit/credit cards to get enough gas to get them from here to NYC. I wonder if my tickets are in the garbage somewhere with my purse. I wonder if they'll use that gas and drive to Austin to go to the concert and have the time of their lives. I wonder if they'll ever regret it. I wonder, at what point, does conscience set in?
As I ventured to the breakroom to gab w/ coworkers, grab my daily Diet DP, and eat lunch, I looked out at the magnificent border of blue port-a-potties circumferencing Zilker Park, the white shiny peaks of the tents, and the green green grass. As I walked out to my car and felt the cool breeze, I imagined how sweet its going to be for the many thousands of people to be sitting outside all weekend jamming out to some great music and eating some of Austin's finest foods. What will I be doing on my begged-Kevin-to-switch-with-me-had-the-kids-for-two-weekends-in-a-row-and-all-I-hear-are-screams-kid-free-weekend? I don't know yet. I thought about going to a haunted house somewhere. I'm all about doing things by myself. I actually like it. But a haunted house? Yeah, perhaps not. I thought about visiting my friends in Dallas (Lavon) but only one of them has come to visit me so I think I should go on strike. Maybe I'll catch up on that Season 2 & 3 of True Blood, or all my other shows on DVR, or maybe I'll go to Town Lake and rent a Kayak.....probably not, I bet you could hear the music from there. Or maybe I'll just work.
Ok, I feel better for the pity party. It's done now. :-) It just sucks and I hope that someday, they get a dose of what goes around comes around (which also has me wondering, wth did I do? when? and to whom?)
And fyi, don't leave your purse in your car....even if you drive a minivan, even if you're only going in for a second, even if you're in Amarillo, even if you think it's well hidden.......and if you do, leave your car unlocked so you don't have to pay for a broken window.
Lol.
P.S. Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is a chain wallet. Tell the Mrs. to hold off on the Snuggie for my birthday.
I finally did the math on my situation. As an accountant, I try to avoid it when I can but today I got curious. I shouldn't have done that. Just over $2000 in personal effects/losses were taken from me. Most of you know I'm a very independent person. You know, that smile you see when you look at me that says, "Hey, I'm a cute single mother of 3 boys with my shit together....." Uh huh, that one? Well its gone today and I am furious. I've got a look on my face that says "Stay the @#$%^&* away from me."
Since September 26th, I've had more shards of glass in my fingers/ hands than I ever thought possible from a broken window (even after an hour of vacuuming). I've talked to more people in India than I ever cared to. I've met the Assistant Vice President of Chase Bank. I've had to issue a fraud alert on my ss#, fill out a stack of forms, research on the internet, etc, etc, etc. Today, I received the final credit card replacement.
So, today I also watched the lovely folks out at Zilker Park setting up for ACL Music Festival from my work window. Inside my purse were 2 tickets to ACL. This was my treat to myself. I actually have talked for months about what I was going to do with my wedding ring. After a year and a half of wondering what to do with it, I decided to sell it. I didn't even really care all that much if I got what it was worth. I needed to get rid of it for my own emotional closure to the divorce. I offered to give it back to my ex-husband. He asked me to keep it. Every time I saw it, I thought about all the memories and let's not forget about the vows that went with it. It needed to be gone. Part of me was hopeful it would be enough money to take a quick trip by myself over the Christmas holiday. A trip to anywhere but here since this will be the first Christmas (of many) that my boys will be gone. It wasn't but it was enough to pay my babysitter to camp out at the student sale and get me tickets to an awesome music concert for a weekend. I've checked craigslist in Dallas/Austin all day and I just can't spend the $200+ they want for another ticket. Counting what I already spent, that would be crazy. It's not like John Mayer is going. That would be ignorant. My boss has sent me every single internet/radio contest out there to win tickets.
I got 2 tickets and was going to give one of my BGF's first dibs because 1) he's never been and mentioned it several months ago. His bday is coming up and it was going to be a Happy Bday. 2) I wanted someone to go with 3) Even if he couldn't go, one of my newest girlfriends wanted to go, we seem to hit it off and have fun together. 4) I knew I could get rid of it.
So, it has got me wondering: Why do bad things happen to good people? Who does this sort of thing? WTH were they thinking? Why? Why me? They have used enough of my debit/credit cards to get enough gas to get them from here to NYC. I wonder if my tickets are in the garbage somewhere with my purse. I wonder if they'll use that gas and drive to Austin to go to the concert and have the time of their lives. I wonder if they'll ever regret it. I wonder, at what point, does conscience set in?
As I ventured to the breakroom to gab w/ coworkers, grab my daily Diet DP, and eat lunch, I looked out at the magnificent border of blue port-a-potties circumferencing Zilker Park, the white shiny peaks of the tents, and the green green grass. As I walked out to my car and felt the cool breeze, I imagined how sweet its going to be for the many thousands of people to be sitting outside all weekend jamming out to some great music and eating some of Austin's finest foods. What will I be doing on my begged-Kevin-to-switch-with-me-had-the-kids-for-two-weekends-in-a-row-and-all-I-hear-are-screams-kid-free-weekend? I don't know yet. I thought about going to a haunted house somewhere. I'm all about doing things by myself. I actually like it. But a haunted house? Yeah, perhaps not. I thought about visiting my friends in Dallas (Lavon) but only one of them has come to visit me so I think I should go on strike. Maybe I'll catch up on that Season 2 & 3 of True Blood, or all my other shows on DVR, or maybe I'll go to Town Lake and rent a Kayak.....probably not, I bet you could hear the music from there. Or maybe I'll just work.
Ok, I feel better for the pity party. It's done now. :-) It just sucks and I hope that someday, they get a dose of what goes around comes around (which also has me wondering, wth did I do? when? and to whom?)
And fyi, don't leave your purse in your car....even if you drive a minivan, even if you're only going in for a second, even if you're in Amarillo, even if you think it's well hidden.......and if you do, leave your car unlocked so you don't have to pay for a broken window.
Lol.
P.S. Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is a chain wallet. Tell the Mrs. to hold off on the Snuggie for my birthday.
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