As the days, the months go by it still doesn't seem quite real that Led is actually gone. Every once in a while something hits me and I realize that I'll never hear his voice again and I am sad - so incredibly sad. One of his best friends, Leah, has been there for me. We text and sometimes have called each other.
Led left us in a very weird spot. When I first found out I was stunned. I guess the best thing to do is to go back to the beginning - the beginning of the end.
When Leah called me to tell me Led died, there was a particularly difficult spot in an already weird conversation. She paused and asked if I had a daughter named D..... I said yes. At that point she hesitated again before asking me if Led was the father.
Duh?
A while back Led told me his friends thought he was the dad and we laughed about it. He told me he talked about her around them and they jumped to that crazy conclusion. It was like him to be secretive and let them guess. I could just imagine him inwardly chuckling at their false assumption.
I told Leah that Led was not the dad and that Led mentioned they thought he was. Thank goodness she got ahold of me when she did; she and his friends were about to tell his mother that she had an unknown granddaughter.
Can you imagine?!?
A while later Leah and I were talking again and it all came out. She told me that it wasn't an assumption - my Led actually came out and told them he was my youngest child's father.
Huh?
He told them I'd once lived there with him and we split after I got pregnant. He told them it was all his fault. He told them he'd paid child support for years. He told them he helped me buy my current home. He told me he loved me, but we just couldn't be together.
Huh?
He didn't tell them I was married. He didn't tell them I had other children. He didn't tell him that my daughter was actually conceived when he lived in an entirely different state and before I actually knew him.
There is more, but you get the picture.
I was shocked.
I talked to him. Sure he couldn't respond, but I talked and talked and talked. I asked him what he could possibly have been thinking.
I've not always been truthful about myself online. I think I 'fessed up to you guys about my intitial ventures into chatrooms and the lies I told. I'm not proud of them. I told giant fibs to people I didn't know.
He told huge whoppers to the people in his life. He fibbed to the people that were his support system, that cared about him, that he sat across the table with during holidays.
Somehow it all seemed different to me.
Maybe it's not.
I know that I was lonely when I did the things I did. I was seeking acceptance and I thought that by being something I was not, I'd get that. I had no right to do and say the things I did. I hurt feelings and I hurt myself in the long run. I wasn't in a place in my life where I was happy with how things were going. That doesn't excuse my behavior, but it's the only explanation I have.
With Led, I think he was incredibly lonely.
I think he'd seen his friends moving on - one by one. I think he saw them getting married, having families, growing up, and having the things that I know he wanted so very much. I think he wanted them to believe that he had them - in an odd and twisted way. I think he wanted them to think there was someone out there for him.
Sadly, when he was at his most lonely - those last months of his life - I was too busy for him. I'd stepped away and expected him to be able to fly solo. I know I was his support system. I know I was the one he'd always talked to when the world kicked him in the balls. I deserted him because he was clinging too much and expecting too much. He wanted things I couldn't give him. I could offer friendship - nothing else.
At the same time someone else that was very special to me had to back away. Their own life took some unexpected turns and they needed to deal with that. Their life was most assuredly too busy for me and, like Led, I had to stand on my own two feet without the emotional support I was used to.
In the long run, I think it was a good thing. I will always care about the special person that drifted from my life. Hell, my heart will always hold a place for just that person - nobody else can fill that spot. Even though we are still friends, it's not the same. My calls and texts to this person are not always answered and I know I'm not as important to them as I once was. It's okay - I understand - I truly do.
My point - I don't know that Led was able to do what we did. He didn't find it as easy to go it alone and the stories he wove increased during the last months of his life. He floundered. He was alone and he was lonely.
I am not angry for the stories he told.
I am sad for him.
I'm sad that he was so very lonely and that he died alone.
I'm sad that he's not there anymore and that I cannot tell him that I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sad that he didn't know how much he meant to me.
I'm sorry for myself as well. Two people incredibly dear to me in different ways are lost to me. I think of them both daily. Even still in those odd little moments when something funky happens I want to just pick up my phone and call one or both of them. Yet, I cannot.
I guess tonight I am feeling introspective and just needed to ramble.
I'm okay; truly I am. I'm not looking for anyone to feel badly for me. I'm in a good place in my life. I am happy. Things are good.
Sometimes, I just want to move the clock back and have one more day.
Peace
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
Smacked
My head hurts.
Why, you ask?
I dropped a vacuum cleaner on it.
Uh huh, that was the response I got from the hubster when I casually mentioned dropping our vacuum cleaner on my head.
It went like this. There I was innocently vacuuming the stairs in the foyer when the damn thing came toppling down and landed on my head. I didn't see it coming and it smacked me a good one.
I guess that's just one of life's little foibles.
Peace
Why, you ask?
I dropped a vacuum cleaner on it.
Uh huh, that was the response I got from the hubster when I casually mentioned dropping our vacuum cleaner on my head.
It went like this. There I was innocently vacuuming the stairs in the foyer when the damn thing came toppling down and landed on my head. I didn't see it coming and it smacked me a good one.
I guess that's just one of life's little foibles.
Peace
Friday, February 12, 2010
Daylight Serenade
There I was happily having a luverly discussion with one of my most favorite classes - and then it happened.
I glanced out the door and one of our secretaries was there with the guidance counselor and one of the interns working in our school. Behind them were four old guys wearing matching suits with bright red ties.
No, I hadn't been zapped into the Twilight Zone.
The hub found a unique way to do something for me for Valentine's Day. He sent a barbershop quartet to sing to me. They were so much fun. They all traipsed in, handed me roses and a card, told me that my hub sent them and proceeded to start singing.
My class was stunned and more and more people started filtering into my room to see what was going on. To say it was different is an understatement. It was delightful!
Between songs, they gave me little messages from the hubster that were all pretty damn sweet. The kids were taking pics with their cell phones, the women in the room were crying. The guys were grinning, and me? I didn't know what to say or do.
Nobody ever told me what the proper protocal is when being serenaded by four total strangers in front of a room full of people.
I'm pretty certain that I blushed. I know I got misty eyed.
It was sweet. To be honest, it was probably one of the most touching things he's ever done for me on Valentine's Day.
Peace
I glanced out the door and one of our secretaries was there with the guidance counselor and one of the interns working in our school. Behind them were four old guys wearing matching suits with bright red ties.
No, I hadn't been zapped into the Twilight Zone.
The hub found a unique way to do something for me for Valentine's Day. He sent a barbershop quartet to sing to me. They were so much fun. They all traipsed in, handed me roses and a card, told me that my hub sent them and proceeded to start singing.
My class was stunned and more and more people started filtering into my room to see what was going on. To say it was different is an understatement. It was delightful!
Between songs, they gave me little messages from the hubster that were all pretty damn sweet. The kids were taking pics with their cell phones, the women in the room were crying. The guys were grinning, and me? I didn't know what to say or do.
Nobody ever told me what the proper protocal is when being serenaded by four total strangers in front of a room full of people.
I'm pretty certain that I blushed. I know I got misty eyed.
It was sweet. To be honest, it was probably one of the most touching things he's ever done for me on Valentine's Day.
Peace
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
New Buddy
Soooooooo I am really cool now. I have a new penpal. Okay, so he's only written to me once. I see that as a start to a new and beautiful relationship full of dialog and the exchange of ideas.
*snork*
Yeah yeah, I am exagerating. Even so, it's still kind of cool.
I write letters. I write to my congress dudes and dudettes. I write to my governor. I write when things bug the beejeebers out of me.
That's how one of my missives ended up in Washington DC. That's why my new penpal (that based on the fact that I got ONE letter back thus far) even knows I exist.
Yes, my new penpal is none other than Barrack Obama.
My own kids and my students were tickled pink to see the return address on the envelop and run their fingertips over the Presidential seal. Sure, it wasn't personalized - even so - it came from the big house in DC. That said to all the teens in my life that they "do" make a difference. It said everyone can put in their two cents. They were amazed.
As for me? If my penpal and his wife decide to have us over for dinner, I shall wear my new sassy ensemble that I bought for the wedding. Just don't tell 'em it was on sale!
Peace
*snork*
Yeah yeah, I am exagerating. Even so, it's still kind of cool.
I write letters. I write to my congress dudes and dudettes. I write to my governor. I write when things bug the beejeebers out of me.
That's how one of my missives ended up in Washington DC. That's why my new penpal (that based on the fact that I got ONE letter back thus far) even knows I exist.
Yes, my new penpal is none other than Barrack Obama.
My own kids and my students were tickled pink to see the return address on the envelop and run their fingertips over the Presidential seal. Sure, it wasn't personalized - even so - it came from the big house in DC. That said to all the teens in my life that they "do" make a difference. It said everyone can put in their two cents. They were amazed.
As for me? If my penpal and his wife decide to have us over for dinner, I shall wear my new sassy ensemble that I bought for the wedding. Just don't tell 'em it was on sale!
Peace
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Duh
I truly do love my sophomores this year, but they sometimes drive me utterly and completely bonkers! I was warned. I can't say I had no idea what to expect. Everyone, and I do mean everyone that taught these kiddos before they pranced into my room last September said the same thing - "great kids, very chatty, but low achievers". It fits them perfectly.
Collectively, they are content to be proficient. There really isn't a single one of them that puts any great effort into school. They want to be spoonfed and would rather have me give them a bunch of information to memorize than to put any real thought into how the world works, why things happened, how one event led to another, etc. It's frustrating because I'm NOT a teacher that simply tosses dates and names at kids to memorize. I want them to "understand" the world around them. Argh!
A classic example was Friday. I was covering the end of WWI - it was time to mention the atomic bombs being dropped. Puleeze don't turn this into a discussion about the right or wrong of it - no no no peeps, I just wanna tell you 'bout my class, not get all political here.
Sooooooooooooooooo.............
It went kind of like this (abbreviated for the sake of my purdy little sore fingers and my non-desire to type each word)
"On August 6, 1945 the United States dropped the first atomic bomb on the city of Hiroshima....... (yada yada yada)"
Then...
"The Japanese didn't surrender, and three days later the United States dropped a second atomic bomb on the city of Nagasaki..... (yada yada yada)"
One of the total black and white thinker type boys interupts me to ask "Uh, what year was that bomb dropped?"
My look of utter exasperation must have shown because one of the kids who "gets it", looked up, grinned at me, and muttered "that would have been 1946".
I didn't say anything, I just went on to explain the Japanese officially signed papers to surrender in September of 1945.
The confused boy looked up with a rather dazed and confused expression on his face and said "Uh, that doesn't make any sense!"
I asked why.
His reply?
"Well why would we have dropped a bomb on them in 1946, if they surrendered in 1945?"
*bangs head on desk*
Did you notice that I'd said "three days later"? Duh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sometimes I just want to stomp my feet and cry. Those feelings were intensified when the kids sitting around him said "uh, we have 1946 written down too!"
I had to explain that sarcasm boy was just messing with their heads because they should have KNOWN the year when I said it was three days AFTER August 6 of 1945. Instead of saying "oh oh oh, I get it", they said things like "well why did he SAY 1946???"
My head hurts.
Peace
Collectively, they are content to be proficient. There really isn't a single one of them that puts any great effort into school. They want to be spoonfed and would rather have me give them a bunch of information to memorize than to put any real thought into how the world works, why things happened, how one event led to another, etc. It's frustrating because I'm NOT a teacher that simply tosses dates and names at kids to memorize. I want them to "understand" the world around them. Argh!
A classic example was Friday. I was covering the end of WWI - it was time to mention the atomic bombs being dropped. Puleeze don't turn this into a discussion about the right or wrong of it - no no no peeps, I just wanna tell you 'bout my class, not get all political here.
Sooooooooooooooooo.............
It went kind of like this (abbreviated for the sake of my purdy little sore fingers and my non-desire to type each word)
"On August 6, 1945 the United States dropped the first atomic bomb on the city of Hiroshima....... (yada yada yada)"
Then...
"The Japanese didn't surrender, and three days later the United States dropped a second atomic bomb on the city of Nagasaki..... (yada yada yada)"
One of the total black and white thinker type boys interupts me to ask "Uh, what year was that bomb dropped?"
My look of utter exasperation must have shown because one of the kids who "gets it", looked up, grinned at me, and muttered "that would have been 1946".
I didn't say anything, I just went on to explain the Japanese officially signed papers to surrender in September of 1945.
The confused boy looked up with a rather dazed and confused expression on his face and said "Uh, that doesn't make any sense!"
I asked why.
His reply?
"Well why would we have dropped a bomb on them in 1946, if they surrendered in 1945?"
*bangs head on desk*
Did you notice that I'd said "three days later"? Duh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sometimes I just want to stomp my feet and cry. Those feelings were intensified when the kids sitting around him said "uh, we have 1946 written down too!"
I had to explain that sarcasm boy was just messing with their heads because they should have KNOWN the year when I said it was three days AFTER August 6 of 1945. Instead of saying "oh oh oh, I get it", they said things like "well why did he SAY 1946???"
My head hurts.
Peace
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Shoppage
I'm a happy little camper; a happy camper yes I am.
(think melody to Yankee Doodle when reading that - I'm singing it in my head)
Yeah yeah, I'm feeling silly today but savings oodles of money can do that to a stingy Deej.
The wedding is in three weeks. I have been putting off finding a dress to wear to the big event. I just haven't been anticipating the thought of digging through atrociously decorated with faux pearls and gawdy sequins type dressed. I hate that shit. I hate those "mother of the bride" type dresses.
Yesterday Babycub and I went shopping for all kids of gizmos and doo-dads. She suggested I find a dress and I shuddered. I opted to use the age old excuse many women use when confronted with this particular horror "Uh, I need to shave my legs".
Perfect.
After all, who wants to try on dresses with less than smooth gams? Not, I - that's for sure!
With that out of the way, we continued having a marvelous day poking through one store after another. Then it happened. Some odd force drew me into a cute little boutique that I've never ventured into before. I found myself being pulled toward a rack of clothes and right toward this luverly printed jackety thing.
I pulled it out and asked Babycub what she thought. We both loved it. Then my face fell. My jackety thing with the fitted tank under it came with pants NOT a skirt. I sighed mightily and Babycub suggested I call the bride - my oldest daughter. If she could live with her "mother of the bride" in pants, I most certainly would be happy to prance down the aisle in this outfit of outfits. It was perfection on a hanger!
She didn't care. She knows I'm never going to be the 50s Throwback Family that she's marrying into. I am me. My family is unique, and I love it. We don't fit molds.
With glee, I scampered to the dressing room to try on my treasure. It fit like it was made for me. I flounced and preened in front of mirrors, Babycub, and the sales clerks. It was "me". I was thrilled.
I didn't look at the price.
I knew I'd be spending a few bucks to find the perfect ensemble for this wedding. I just figured this would be pricey and that was that.
There it was - the tag.
But wait!
It was marked down.
The mark down was crossed off and marked down again.
Wait!
The marked down mark down was also crossed off and marked down again.
But wait even again!
The dress was on clearance.
After all the markdowns, they were still discounting it by 75% of the last markdown.
To sum it all up - my perfect perfect luverly delightfully make me smile and feel purdy outfit cost me ....
*drumroll*
$14.00
Yes, that's FOURTEEN dollars.
The gods of shopping were smiling on me yesterday!
Peace
(think melody to Yankee Doodle when reading that - I'm singing it in my head)
Yeah yeah, I'm feeling silly today but savings oodles of money can do that to a stingy Deej.
The wedding is in three weeks. I have been putting off finding a dress to wear to the big event. I just haven't been anticipating the thought of digging through atrociously decorated with faux pearls and gawdy sequins type dressed. I hate that shit. I hate those "mother of the bride" type dresses.
Yesterday Babycub and I went shopping for all kids of gizmos and doo-dads. She suggested I find a dress and I shuddered. I opted to use the age old excuse many women use when confronted with this particular horror "Uh, I need to shave my legs".
Perfect.
After all, who wants to try on dresses with less than smooth gams? Not, I - that's for sure!
With that out of the way, we continued having a marvelous day poking through one store after another. Then it happened. Some odd force drew me into a cute little boutique that I've never ventured into before. I found myself being pulled toward a rack of clothes and right toward this luverly printed jackety thing.
I pulled it out and asked Babycub what she thought. We both loved it. Then my face fell. My jackety thing with the fitted tank under it came with pants NOT a skirt. I sighed mightily and Babycub suggested I call the bride - my oldest daughter. If she could live with her "mother of the bride" in pants, I most certainly would be happy to prance down the aisle in this outfit of outfits. It was perfection on a hanger!
She didn't care. She knows I'm never going to be the 50s Throwback Family that she's marrying into. I am me. My family is unique, and I love it. We don't fit molds.
With glee, I scampered to the dressing room to try on my treasure. It fit like it was made for me. I flounced and preened in front of mirrors, Babycub, and the sales clerks. It was "me". I was thrilled.
I didn't look at the price.
I knew I'd be spending a few bucks to find the perfect ensemble for this wedding. I just figured this would be pricey and that was that.
There it was - the tag.
But wait!
It was marked down.
The mark down was crossed off and marked down again.
Wait!
The marked down mark down was also crossed off and marked down again.
But wait even again!
The dress was on clearance.
After all the markdowns, they were still discounting it by 75% of the last markdown.
To sum it all up - my perfect perfect luverly delightfully make me smile and feel purdy outfit cost me ....
*drumroll*
$14.00
Yes, that's FOURTEEN dollars.
The gods of shopping were smiling on me yesterday!
Peace
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Boobie Fairy
And suddenly there are boobies.
Yes, the boobie fairy has sprinkled some kind of mammary dust on my wee little girl.
My little babycub has a chest and I'm not quite ready to see her this way! Last weekend she tossed on some sweater, walked out into the living room and said "omg, mom, my boobs look like the size of Texas in this!!!"
I had to laugh and promptly texted her older sister about this so we could harass the poor little Texan in tandem. After all, if your family doesn't give you endless amounts of shit, what good are they?
We spent the day calling her Tex while she rolled her eyes at us in utter dismay.
When her bod first began to develop she was extremely self-conscious about the whole puberty/mother nature/hormone thing. She's accepted the inevitable - she will get boobs, pimples, periods, body hair, and all that jazz.
My house has changed. The hub and I have adjusted to the Mancub having a deeper voice, a hint of whiskers, and littlemanuppityness. Now we are moving into the moody hormonal aspect of a teen girl. Both of them at once? Really?????
Years ago when these two were little someone repairman was at our house and seemed rather puzzled to see the gap in the ages of our kids. The hub looked at him and said "Yeah, they are all ours. God is punishing us for something to land us with two year olds in teenagers all at the same time."
Some days I long for those old days, but time marches on and I wouldn't change a thing about my cubs. Okay, well, maybe she could be a wee bit less chesty - she's being ogled by teen boys and she's only thirteen!
Peace
Yes, the boobie fairy has sprinkled some kind of mammary dust on my wee little girl.
My little babycub has a chest and I'm not quite ready to see her this way! Last weekend she tossed on some sweater, walked out into the living room and said "omg, mom, my boobs look like the size of Texas in this!!!"
I had to laugh and promptly texted her older sister about this so we could harass the poor little Texan in tandem. After all, if your family doesn't give you endless amounts of shit, what good are they?
We spent the day calling her Tex while she rolled her eyes at us in utter dismay.
When her bod first began to develop she was extremely self-conscious about the whole puberty/mother nature/hormone thing. She's accepted the inevitable - she will get boobs, pimples, periods, body hair, and all that jazz.
My house has changed. The hub and I have adjusted to the Mancub having a deeper voice, a hint of whiskers, and littlemanuppityness. Now we are moving into the moody hormonal aspect of a teen girl. Both of them at once? Really?????
Years ago when these two were little someone repairman was at our house and seemed rather puzzled to see the gap in the ages of our kids. The hub looked at him and said "Yeah, they are all ours. God is punishing us for something to land us with two year olds in teenagers all at the same time."
Some days I long for those old days, but time marches on and I wouldn't change a thing about my cubs. Okay, well, maybe she could be a wee bit less chesty - she's being ogled by teen boys and she's only thirteen!
Peace
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