The Other Woman

My husband is cheating on me.

I’m told the other woman is a bitch, with brown hair and beady eyes.

It’s been said that her breath reeks, which makes me feel a little better.

Apparently she likes to bite my husband when she gets upset, which amuses me because no matter how angry I’ve gotten at Tom, I have yet to chomp on him.

Want to see what she looks like? I found a picture on Tom’s MySpace. He was stupid enough to post it.





Meet The Other Woman.

Don’t worry, I’m kidding about the cheating thing. As far as I know, my husband is not into animals.

He knows better than to ever try to cheat on me. If he thinks the women on Maury are scary when they find out their mates are cheating, then he’d be doubly horrified on my reaction.

He’d never try it though. The man is one of the worst liars in the world. He starts to smirk when he’s telling a fib and he tries hard not to allow his lips to curl upwards but he just can’t help it. In the end, he just winds up looking constipated.

I miss him.

I'll see him next month.

Tom has never been good with expressing his feelings but he wrote this to me:

"I remember the first time that I saw you in the hallway at school. I knew you would be a good wife one day. What I didnt know is you would be my wife. 2 Years later, you came to me with an issue of yours. I just graduated Basic Training when you told me that you were pregnant. How nervous you looked but I told you that I would take care of you and the child. We got married on the 10th of December in a little court house during a snow storm. You made me the happiest man in the world then. You became a mother on 2 March 2002 at 0015 in the morning with my son Tommy. I thought that I couldn't be any happier at that moment but I was wrong. We had another child on 19 Mar 2007 and my life was complete. I got to marry one of the most beatiful woman in the world, had 2 children, and I loving home that I could come home to everyday even if I was in a sour mood. I love you very much and you will always be a wonderful mother and wife. I miss you very much and I will be with you soon.

Love, Tom "

----

I think this means that he misses me too.

Teachable Tuesday

One of my favorite quotes/stories is about a starfish. I love starfish and the first time I heard this story my pastor told it. It made me stand up and take notice and I have carried it in my heart ever since. You see, I was one of those starfish that someone found floundering on the beach...and threw back. There was a teacher who made a difference. For that I am grateful.

"Once a man was walking along a beach. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. Off in the distance he could see a person going back and forth between the surf's edge and and the beach. Back and forth this person went. As the man approached he could see that there were hundreds of starfish stranded on the sand as the result of the natural action of the tide.
The man was stuck by the the apparent futility of the task. There were far too many starfish. Many of them were sure to perish. As he approached the person continued the task of picking up starfish one by one and throwing them into the surf.

As he came up to the person he said, "You must be crazy. There are thousands of miles of beach covered with starfish. You can't possibly make a difference." The person looked at the man. He then stooped down and pick up one more starfish and threw it back into the ocean. He turned back to the man and said, "It sure made a difference to that one!"

So, today ask yourself what kind of difference you can make in someone's life...and make it!

Musical Monday - What Moves You?

It is musical Monday again. You need to go by and check out Diane or Jori's site for contest rules and the latest give away. The song I chose for today is one that I totally rock out to in the car. I love this song. It should be my theme song. I sing with the Praise and Worship Band at my church...and when this song came my way...I found I could not keep still. I wanted to shout and shake the shackles off! Enjoy my song!

A Day with GeeKey

GeeKey.

That’s the name my son wanted to be called yesterday. I have no idea where he came up with it and yes, I know it sort of looks like the word Geeky but I don’t think that’s what Tommy was thinking about when he insisted I call him that.

He just said it out of the blue when I informed him lunch was ready.

“Tommy. It’s time to eat,” I had called out.

“I’m not Tommy. I’m GeeKey. Call me GeeKey,” Tommy replied seriously.

Fine. Whatever. I’d call him SnotHead if it meant that he’d eat.

For most of the day I’d slip and accidentally call him Tommy though. I’m sorry, I’ve been calling him that for seven years and it’s hard to break the habit. Each time Tommy would stare at me indignantly and shout, “It’s GeeKey, Mr. Mommyhead!”

Needless to say, I started to get a headache.

And Mr. Mommyhead? What the heck was that? It’s MRS. Mommyhead, if you please.

It also didn’t help that Natalie was extra whiney.

“Darling, it’s Mother’s Day. We don’t whine on Mother’s Day,” I’d explain.

But she didn’t care. She’d just tilt her head back and emit a screech that I’m guessing the neighbor’s dog heard because seconds after she yelped, the dog started going spastic.

Then there was a knock on the door and it was Tommy’s annoying friend Blake wanting to play.

Seriously?

On Mother’s Day?

You’re going to send your kid over on MOTHER’S DAY?

I told Blake that no, Tommy couldn’t play. And because Blake can never accept any sort of answer he went, “Why?”

“Because it’s Mother’s Day, Blake,” I replied and shut the door.

Oh, but he was back two hours later.

“Can Tommy play now?” he wondered hopefully.

“No Blake. It’s Mother’s Day!”

You’d think he’d get the hint, right?

Hah.

He was back an hour later.

“Can Tommy—” he started.

“No Blake,” I said through gritted teeth. “We’ve been through this before. Tommy can’t play because it’s Mother’s Day.”

Is it illegal to swing someone else’s kid in the air by their ankles?

If that weren’t enough, my phone kept ringing off the hook.

It was mainly Tom.

I think he felt guilty because he didn’t get me anything and was worried that I was going to off myself because of this.

I’m the one who told him not to get me anything though. Since we’re making car payments again we don’t have as much extra money as we once did. Plus Tom got me Pepto, my adorable pink mini laptop awhile back and that’s more than enough.

I kept explaining to Tom that I was okay, really, I was okay ONLY HIS CHILDREN WERE MONSTERS, ABSOLUTE MONSTERS.

Still, he kept calling.

“How are you?” he’d ask.

“Oh, well, your daughter is currently crying into the carpet because I wouldn’t let her have a lollipop and your son thinks he can fly because he keeps jumping off the couch,” I said, my voice terse.

Sometimes I was lucky to even HAVE a conversation. Tom asked what I planned on doing for dinner and I started off by saying, “Well I think we’re going to Mc—TOMMY, WE DON’T JUMP OFF THE BOOKCASE! What was I saying?”

“You were telling me where you were going,” Tom said patiently. I can almost guarantee he was thanking the stars that he was in Texas and not stuck in the frat house.

“Right. So, we’re probably going to eat at—NATALIE, WE DON’T EAT BUBBLES. We BLOW BUBBLES!” I’d try again.

During one call I accidentally hung up on Tom because I was so frazzled. Plus his son was about to jump off the very top of the stairs. He kept telling me that he was Superman’s son and Superman’s son could do things like that.

“I hate to break this to you,” I told Tommy cautiously as I approached him slowly. I didn’t want to move quickly and have him jump, you see. I was treating him as though he were on the verge of suicide and on television shows when someone is approaching suicidal people who are about to leap off a building or something, they move slowly and speak with their hand out in front of them and in calm tones. This was what I was trying to do. “But you’re not Superman’s son,” I continued in what I hoped was a serene voice. “So you can’t jump. How about I turn on the TV and we’ll see what that crazy yellow sponge is up to?”

I eventually coaxed him downstairs. Thank you, Spongebob.

Then Tom called back and wanted to know why I hung up on him.

So yes. My head was pounding throughout most of the day.

And Tom kept phoning so when the phone rang for what seemed like the hundredth time of the day I picked it up and shouted, “For the love of CHRIST, Tom. I’m OKAY!”

Which insulted him because he said in a sad tone, “I was just calling to say hello.”

Which in turn made me feel horrible.

We ended up going to McDonalds for dinner. I had an intense craving for chicken nuggets, you see.

I also got a chocolate milkshake because on Mother’s Day there are no such things as calories.

When we got home Tommy informed me that his burger looked funny.

“It looks fine, Tommy,” I said firmly.

Tommy looked insulted. “It’s not Tommy, it's GEEKEY!”

I took a deep breath. Seriously, what I wanted to do was get out of my seat and jump up and down on the carpet with my fists balled at my side shrieking, “This is not my life. This is not my life!”

“GeeKey,” I said in a shaky voice that I didn’t even recognize. “Your burger looks fine.”

“It’s brown,” Tommy argued.

“It’s supposed to be brown. It’s MEAT!” I pointed out, nearly losing my cool. I swallowed hard. “Please just EAT, Tommy.”

Tommy’s eyes bugged out of his head. “It’s GEEKEY! GEEKEY, GEEKEY, GEEKEY!”

“GEEKEY!” Natalie giggled, waving a fry in the air.

I closed my eyes briefly and took another deep breath.

Breathe, one, two, three. Breathe, one, two, three.

“You have a wonderful name, Tommy,” I said calmly, opening my eyes. “Why would you want to change it?”

Tommy shrugged. “I needed a change.”

Oh. Lovely. He’s turning into Prince. Soon he’s going to want to be called The Kid Formerly Known as Tommy. Or GeeKey.

“Tommy is a name you should be proud of. You’re named after your Grandpa AND your Daddy.” I said grandly. And because I had just finished watching The Tudors I added, “You’re your Daddy’s heir.”

Whenever I finish watching The Tudors I always get the urge to curtsy and remind Tom that he has to be nice to me because I did my duty as his wife and gave him a son and heir.

Tommy looked confused. “I’m Daddy’s HAIR?” he wondered and then started laughing.

“No. His HEIR. H-E-I-R. Not hair,” I explained.

But the damage had already been done. Tommy kept laughing about being his Daddy’s hair and when Tom called to say goodnight, Tommy proudly said, “Guess what, Daddy? I’m your HAIR!”

Of course Tom was confused and when I explained what Tommy meant, Tom sighed and went, “You really shouldn’t watch that Tudors show anymore. It makes you weird.”

When I tucked the kids in for bed I was ready for the silence. I was all prepared to flop on the couch and just sprawl there for a few hours while figuring out who the Celebrity Apprentice was going to be.

“Goodnight, GeeKey,” I said tucking my son in. I leaned in to give him a hug and Tommy (GeeKey) reached up and grabbed my cheeks.

“I love you very much, Mommy,” he said seriously, looking me straight in the eye.

My heart instantly melted. Because yes, my life can be chaotic and yes, I may occasionally wish that I could run out the house and escape the insanity...but it’s moments like that which makes it all worth it.

A Mother's Day Gift

When Frank came into my life so did another daughter and son-in-law. Amy and Stephen have been a total delight to me. Amy has become my dear friend and has allowed me to share in her life without baggage. She is an amazing cook. I love to visit with them....what she can do in a kitchen is unbelieveable. She loves Ole Time Pottery...my favorite store. She is a good reading buddy AND she is willing to share books with me...we have similar tastes in reading and we both have a fascination for the Queens of England. We talk books, we play Wii together, she loves fairies(and secretly so do I...because I love hunting them for her), she is funny, she is a red head (and I am partial to them), she is so much like her father....that I can truly say I am blessed to have been given another daughter. I wish I could have known her when she was younger and I wish I could have shared in her life from the start...but I didn't. It was not my season to walk the same path with her....but I have been given this season to share in her life and for that I am blessed. It is not everyday that a mom is given another precious gift of a daughter (or son). I am a fortunate one....as Mother's Day approaches....I have been given a wonderful gift of a very special red haired daughter.....who makes my family and life complete.

The Adventures of P

I bought a small potty for Natalie when she was a year and a half.



I knew she wouldn’t be potty trained that early. Of course I did. I mean, her brother took his sweet time with finally deciding to use the bathroom. I honestly thought he'd be the first college kid who attended class in a Pull Up.

But I still had hope.

What I WISHED would happen is that I’d show the potty to Natalie and she’d clap her hands, announce that she had to pee and promptly go on it. Girls usually train faster than boys, right?

What really happened is that Natalie marched right past the potty and refused to sit on it when I asked if she wanted to try it.

“Nope,” she said and then ran over to her Daddy for protection. (Okay. MOST girls train faster than boys but just not MY girl. I get it.)

I figured, okay, she’s just too young.

My dreams of having her potty trained before she was two disappeared.

When Natalie turned two she suddenly seemed interested in the potty. She seemed to realize that the white throne with the green armrests in the corner of the room was FUN. She pulled it over and my breath caught in my throat.

This is it! She’s going to pee! This is IT!

I was two seconds away from organizing a Natalie Finally Urinated! party. I planned on phoning up all our family members and casually saying something like, “You know Natalie? Who just turned two? Yeah, she went pee in the potty.” I’d sound nonchalant and act as though it weren’t a big deal but inside I’d be screaming, “NO MORE DIAPERS! That means extra money. That means I can go shopping!”

But Natalie didn’t pee.

She sat on the toilet for all of three seconds before abandoning it for an old carrot she had discarded on the couch a few hours before.

“Wait! Don’t you want to pee?” I asked Natalie hopefully. I realized that my voice had raised a few octaves and was causing Natalie’s eyebrows to shoot up in confusion. So I tried to sound normal and started again. “Wouldn’t you like to pee in this fabulous potty?” I even gestured to it with my hands as though I were Vanna White.

Natalie looked me squarely in the eye and went, “No fanks.”

No fanks?

NO FANKS?

What was this NO FANKS business?

Still, I tried not to worry.

And, okay, you know the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf? Natalie had her own version: The Girl who Cried Pee. Because she’d tease me and would point to the potty enthusiastically and shout that she had to pee and I’d be all, “This is IT!”

But then she’d change her mind and say, “No fanks.” She’d look quite pleased with herself, as if torturing her mother was an enjoyable task.

Eventually I stopped believing that Natalie was really going to pee. She’d ask for the potty and I’d drag it over as though it were a bag of potatoes and it stopped hurting quite so much when Natalie would abandon her commode less than a minute later.

Yesterday Natalie rushed over to me and started shouting, “Pee! Pee! Pee!”

I had never seen her so emphatic about pee before, you see. Usually she’ll just point to the potty and inform me that she wants to sit on it. Then I’ll ask if she wants to PEE in it and she promptly says, “No fanks.” It’s just how it goes. I’ve accepted it.

So when Natalie practically started break dancing while she screeched the word pee, my heart lurched with excitement.

Maybe this is FINALLY it! She’s never been THIS excited before!

“Do you want to pee?” I wondered, trying not to sound too hopeful. I grabbed the potty and blew off the dust that it had started to collect. I set it in the middle of the living room even though this bothers my husband.

“This is where I watch TV. Why is there a toilet in here?” he once asked.

Please.

If he could, he would totally move the toilet in the living room. This would mean that he wouldn’t have to actually get up and, gasp, walk down the hall to the bathroom. One time he was in the middle of watching some ultra boring World War 2 show and he started twitching on the couch to the point where I thought I might have to run him to the ER.

“Are you having some sort of allergic reaction?” I finally asked when I couldn’t take the shuffling any longer.

“No. I have to take a piss but I don’t want to move,” was Tom’s reply. He wiggled his butt into the cushion.

“Um Tom? You do realize that you can PAUSE the program. It’s the beauty of having a DVR,” I reminded him.

“I don’t want to move right now,” was Tom’s stubborn reply.

“I can already tell you how this show ends. We win,” I said.

Still, the man waited until a commercial came on and then he darted into the bathroom, his hands pressed against his crotch.

He doesn’t like the fact that Natalie’s toilet is in the living room but he’s just going to have to live with it. When he’s the one coaxing Natalie to please pee in the potty, just one squirt, just ONE measly squirt then he might have more of a say.

“Here you go, sweetheart. Let’s go pee!” I said to Natalie cheerfully, pointing to the potty.

Natalie looked a little wary.

“Pee!” she repeated, her brow furrowing.

“I know! Let’s PEE! Peeing is FUN!” I cooed.

Okay, never in my life did I ever think that I’d use the phrase “peeing is fun.” But whatever. You say what you need to say, right?

“PEE!” Natalie said again, almost impatiently. I half expected her to stomp her foot into the carpet.

My poor confused kid. I assumed she forgot what she had to do so I started helping her out of her pants.

“PEE PEE PEE PEE!” Natalie started to freak out on me.

“Darling,” I said, my voice verging on sounding impatient. “If you want to pee, we need to take off your pants and diaper.”

I was starting to get paranoid that the fall she had taken the day before had totally warped her memory. Maybe she forgot how to pee? Should I call her pediatrician?

“PEE!” Natalie screamed and suddenly turned and made a break for it. Her left leg was still stuck in her pants, which swung around her ankle as she rushed into the kitchen.

I followed her in and watched in horror as she practically threw herself into the trash can.

My poor daughter! She had lost her memory and thought that we peed in the trash.

“Natalie. No. We don’t pee in the trash—” I started to explain.

“PEE!” Natalie cut me off and pointed into the bin.

I sighed.

I’m not cut out for this. Is there someone I can hire to potty train Natalie? Surely there has to be some potty training company out there.

“Natalie,” I tried again, marching over to her. “We don’t—”

But then something caught my eye.

A flash of blue nestled in the trash.

Huh?

I peered closer and saw this:



What?

And then it dawned on me.

Natalie wasn’t telling me that she had to pee.

She was telling me that she wanted her letter P.

See, Natalie has been known to throw things into the trash. She threw out one of my Henry VIII books before and I spotted it just before I nearly threw some old leftovers that I swore I was going to eat but ended up not eating because I’m not a fan of leftovers on top of it.

“Natalie!” I had lectured. “We don’t throw away Henry VIII!”

Anyhow, I guess what had happened was that she had tossed her letter out and then had second thoughts. Which I can totally understand because I once threw out my last chocolate cookie to prevent me from eating it and then I kept picturing it all alone in the garbage can and was seriously thisclose to digging it back out but then I was all, “Ew, Amber, that is disgusting.” I think I ended up buying more chocolate cookies which sort of defeated the whole purpose of throwing out that other one.

Oh well.

Anyhow, I brought out Natalie’s P and washed it off and handed it to her.

“P,” Natalie said gratefully and hugged it to her chest.

I gave a long sigh. “You wouldn’t want to pee in the potty by any chance, would you?”

And Natalie looked me squarely in the eye and went, “No fanks,” before flouncing off while grasping onto her beloved P.

In My Daughter's Eyes

I was married for over 20 years the first time. It was not always easy....and I had many internal battle scars when I finally got the courage to walk away. It was not all bad though...something good came from this union....you see I have the most wonderful daughter in the world. She is not only my daughter...but one of my dearest friends. She has been my friend since the day she was born. I can't imagine life without her...but...that is not what this post is about. Many moons ago...when she was very young, Kat made me the ultimate Mother's Day card. I still have it and read it every single day. The front of the card...had a picture of a mom and little red haired girl....with a tree, bird, and flower. The construction paper was bright pink...of course...now...20 years later...it is almost white....and the words are almost gone....but I have them buried in my heart...When you open the card...there is her precious sentiment. It reads, " Moms are great, moms are grand, moms are everything but a man!" This card was my empowerment card. When her father and I separated and then divorced...I made sure I took it....so I would always remember...just who I was...in my daughter's eyes. If I never get another Mother's Day card in my whole life...this card...this card....made an impact on me. In my daughter's eyes....I am special! Happy Mother's Day to all the Mom's in the blogging world. I hope you realize....just how special you are.