Being a parent sometimes sucks

I think my son must have had a hormone surge recently because he's become unbearable. In the last week or so, he's taken being an aggravating little shit-head from an amateur hobby to professional level. He's 11 years old, so it's about the right time for him to get a hormone surge, but ACK! I'll be lucky to live through it!

This morning we were running a bit late so I said I'd sign his planner in the car when we got to school. He refused to think that maybe that meant I wanted him to get his planner out on the way to school, not before he got in the car, not shoving his backpack in the back seat and getting it out after we got to school, but sitting down, strapping in, and getting his planner out while we drove. And no, I'm not finding the page and signing it WHILE I'M DRIVING THROUGH A SCHOOL ZONE!

Then started the fight that I'm still, 6 hours later, a little bit pissy over. I asked him to turn to last Friday, the day I had to sign off, so that when we got to school it would be easy to sign. He screamed at me that he didn't know what today was. October? So he turns to the monthly calendar for October, which, of course, has today blank because it's September 29. So he starts raving that today doesn't exist so he doesn't have to do anything. ACK!

We have gone over and over and over how to use his planner. Turn down the corners of the pages at the end of the week to make it easy to find the week we're in. Does he listen? Does he pay attention? Does he attempt to put any modicum of effort to anything he ever does? No, of course not! It's all too freaking hard!

Eventually, he got to the right page, and low and behold, there's a note that he's supposed to have a binder with brads today. He does not have a binder with brads today. Who's fault is it? MINE! It's all my fault because I'm a horrible mother and I don't love him.

Then, he puts his bloody planner back in his bag. We're still driving to school! I haven't signed the stupid thing! So I tell him to get it back out, open to the correct page, and hold it! He starts at the back of the book, in July, flipping one page at a time.

"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Looking for October," seriously, I would really appreciate a lot less attitude.
"Remember what I just said about the folded down pages?" I didn't even bother to remind him that it's still September. But we're finally parked in front of the school, so I take his planner and show him what I mean by turning to the first page without a folded down corner- again. I would put money on him still not "being able" to do it.

One good thing this morning: a lot of people in our neighborhood decorated for Halloween this weekend. I'm not allowed to start until the first- well, start in earnest. Steve doesn't seem to mind a few skulls and ghosts creeping into our lounge decor.

Spitting tacs

I'm deleting this post. Not that I feel I'm off base, but because there's no point in fighting a broken system. Our world is so fucked, I don't think we can fix it. I'm not sure I'd want to at this point. People suck.

My Monkeys

There’s a saying that I really like: “Not my monkeys, not my circus.” Except that, at the moment, they are my monkeys. My stupid, retarded, fugly monkeys. And this is my circus. My circus that no one wants to come to because it sucks. I'm pretty sure the clowns are doing drugs behind the elephant tent, and the bearded lady keeps shaving. 

This weekend I kept getting very frustrated for all the usual reasons. Last week was pretty much shit better to forget, and today hasn't been very nice to me either. People seem to find it necessary to remind me what a horrible person I am. I might be able to cope with that if it wasn't quite so many people all at once. 

It’s also become apparent that we’re not going to be ready for the market in 2 weeks, which means my deal is off. My deal was that if we could do the market for October, November, and December, and we didn’t make a profit I’d start applying for a real job again. Since we’re apparently not going to be ready, I can’t really hold off the inevitable anymore. 

I also came to a sobering reality: no one has ever been interested in anything I’ve ever done. Steve spent Saturday working on the website, and I suddenly realized how many things I’ve made over the years that no one is interested in. I may get a passing glance or a pity comment, but no one is buying. No one gives two fucks. So regardless of if we could be part of the market, the reality is that my stuff, at least, will never generate profit. And yes, that’s incredibly depressing because I just can’t help but fail- which sucks big time. But if I can somehow live with that and stop this stupid nonsense that I am anything but a grey person, maybe I can finally find some peace.

You see, through all this depression and failure, there’s always been this burning, albeit fragile, flame in me that says I’m more than just another blob on the Earth. There’s something special that I can share with the world. The thing is, there really isn’t. I’m ok at some things, but I’m not great at anything. I don’t inspire people, and no one even notices when I’m not around. 

And sometimes it really sucks to have a husband who believes my dreams despite all evidence to the contrary. 

Just when I thought I could be ok with being just another grey blob, having a job that I hate like everyone else, he gets me talking about all the things that I could do if we lived in a perfect world where I could actually succeed at things. Which would be great if I wasn't trying to forget all the things I want to do, and just do the things I'm supposed to do.

Today I had a few people ask about Batty4Arts. One even wrote the web address down, so I guess that's cool. I just don't know how to deal with anything right now. Personally, I just want to crawl in bed and order take out until I forget who I am and who others think I am. 

And yet more UGH

Steve and I have started putting more effort into our arts and crafts business, Batty 4 Arts. There's a local market here that runs the first Saturday of the month, and we really wanted to be involved in it. We've known for a while that it's something we wanted to work towards, so we've been working on stock as well as filing for a license and tax permits, and all the other bull shit that goes along with living in a country so overrun by bureaucracy that you can't even tie your own shoe without first filing the proper forms. 

I had a sudden realization this morning that the next market day, which was our goal to be involved in, is 2 weeks away! In 2 weeks from today, we should be sitting in the market selling our creations, talking to people, and handing out information about us. 

I don't think it's going to happen. 

Honestly, it probably could. Yeah, our business cards are outdated, we don't really have a sign, and we have limited display items. Still, we could probably scrape by. Yes, we don't have any tables or a cash box/register, but we could probably have those items in time. 

The nail in the coffin is that we can't accept cards. We have some fairly big ticket items and people just don't carry cash anymore. I tried to get one of those card readers from Paypal, open our business account through them, but they required a copy of my social security card. Social security administration are a bunch of power hungry wankers who can't do their job properly so they take it out on the general public. I legally changed my name while living in New Zealand. I have the legal name change forms. My driver's license has my new name. My US passport has my new name! When I went to social security to update my card, they claimed to be homeland security, threatened to confiscate my passport and have me arrested for fraud. What!?! 

So, of course, my name on my social security card is different from every other form of id I have. Wouldn't be a problem if this country wasn't so fascinated with a dead form of societal control. Anyway, Paypal's black listed me until I can provide every scrap of information they can think of. I'm surprised they don't ask for a blood sample.  

Why is everything so hard? I truly do believe that someone put a curse on me, or maybe this is punishment for something I did in a past life. I've never heard of anyone else ever having these many complications in every aspect of their life. 

Sometimes it's very hard to not give up. 

Too much

I'm not a stupid person, at least not in the ways most cultures define stupid. I received good grades and took challenging classes throughout school. I've had difficult jobs yet performed them well. I usually rank fairly high in most IQ quizzes and tests. I'm usually fairly quick to grasp new concepts and skills and to build and expand that knowledge. I have a deeply innate awareness of my own body and it's needs. I'm well connected to the environment around me, and I'm decent at working with other people.

So why can I not do this whole business thing?!?

This is going to sound mean, but there are some pretty dumb people in business for themselves. How the hell did they manage to fight their way through the red tape and road hazards just to establish a business, let alone cope with the rampant bureaucracy to keep that business financially viable and productive. Dealing with the very edges of it has taken 2 full days! And we're not even done yet! At each step there are new and more depressing pit falls, bumps, wrong information, and humiliation galore. And when you think you've finished hacking through the forests of bullshit and managed to finish one step bringing you closer to your end goal, you discover that the step you just completed added three more steps to your list of shit-that-may-actually-kill-me-but-has-to-get-done.

So I thought, "Do most people hire someone that is masochistic enough to make this their life's work?" And maybe, but it would cost thousands! We simply cannot take that route. So we're left to muddle through, hoping against hope that we're doing it right.

Hoping against hope that this doesn't destroy whatever is left of my sanity.

At least I'm not screaming

The other day we had quite a good rainstorm here. We really need the rain, and it finally broke the streak of hot weather. A month of every day being over 38C (100F) was getting old to say the least. But this house was designed by someone unfamiliar with the area and/or didn't grasp the concept of weather prevention and high energy costs. In plan language: when it rains here it's still wwarm enough to need the windows open, but windy enough to need something to stop the rain getting in the house.

As a result of the poor design of this house, we wound up closing some windows so that we didn't wind up with water damage on everything.

Side note: did you know that sash windows are evil dangerous things out to take revenge on the human race?

Seriously, the last 2 houses we've rented have had sash windows. What is the fascination with these things? They don't ever work properly, they break easily, and they try to kill people! Abolish the sash windows!

So, I realized after the rain had moved on that the windows were still closed. I braced myself to open them because sometimes when I open them it feels more like I'm pushing myself into the ground rather than lifting a window. Heck, when I close them I have to put all my weight on them and I'm not a small person! I managed to open one without death and dismemberment, so I moved to the second.

As I lifted, my hand slipped. As my hand slipped I felt the pain of a nail breaking. I've always had long nails and when you have long nails, occasionally they break. Occasionally, when a nail breaks, it hurts for a bit. This time it was hurting quite badly. Sometimes they break down at the quick- where the nail is actually attached to the finger- and that really hurts, so I just sat on the couch and held my finger waiting for the pain to subside. I never actually looked at it, though.

Until Steve asked what happened. He was in the kitchen so I walked in, still holding my finger, still not looking, and made the big reveal, and then promptly feeling light headed and slightly nauseous. It had indeed broken past the quick. About half way down.

The worst part is, it didn't actually rip off. It only ripped about 3/4 of the way across. So every time it's touched, it feels like my finger is exploding. Typing is proving to be quite tricky at the moment, and this post is taking significantly longer to write than usual. At least today it's a bit better. I did the damage on Sunday evening, and yesterday every time the wind blew on my finger I would scream and throw up a little. At least today I only squeak when I hit it with a bit of force, but I'm not throwing up today.

Yesterday, Steve and I tried to cut the nail to stop it from catching on things. Bad idea. I finally just wrapped a bandaid around the stupid thing. Maybe in another day or so I'll try to trim the nail.

But right now, the act of typing this has made it really start to ache, so I think I'll go play a game to get my mind off my finger before I start to do some work. We now have the start of our business license! We still have to file in at least one, possibly 2 other counties, file for our Federal and State tax things, get some sort of permit thing for State tax, and probably a billion other things, but it's a start!

Edited: sorry for the typos. It's hard to type with this damn finger!

Plague

I was born in the 80's, and although I was young I remember the hope that was around during that decade. I remember the gloom of the 90's as it looked like the promise of the 80's economy boom was not going to last. And then September 11, 2001 happened and America broke. Everything that we were clinging so desperately to, remembering the greatness of our nation and people, was thrown away to the militarization of police, handing the TSA ultimate power, taking away every personal right that our ancestors fought and died to give us. We pissed it all away because we got scared. The nightmare made it onto our soil. We suddenly felt vulnerable and afraid, and it's much better to know who the bad guys are rather than just shadows in the night. But it doesn't work.

Because we are still afraid.

When I was a little girl, the teachers and my parents told me that if I ever got lost and afraid, I could always find a cop and they would help me. Now I have to tell my son to stay away from the cops, they won't help you.

When I was a little girl, I would ride my bike all afternoon in the summer and only had to be home when the streetlights came on. Now, my son doesn't play outside because he has to stay within my sight at all times.

When I was a little girl, both my parents worked full time, but we were able to fun things as a family on the weekends. Now, I can't even get a job interview much less a job. And when I did manage to find a retail job, it cost me more in gas than I made working!

We allowed businessmen and politicians and lawyers to break our country and our spirit because we were afraid. The terrorists attacks on that early fall day were horrific. It's something that those of us who lived through it will never forget. But the terrorists did not destroy America. We did.

Today, if you haven't noticed, has been very bad. For a few reasons, but the biggest of the moment is Sprint. If you are looking for a cellular phone, do NOT go to Sprint.

Last month we were threatened with disconnection because their internal system is not allocating the funds taken from our account to the proper place. They take the money, pocket it, and then claim we're overdue. The representative this morning even said that it was an internal error on their part, but then followed that by saying we'd have to pay the money a second time so they wouldn't report us to collections and disconnect service. Last night Steve was on the phone with them trying to explain the situation and the help desk person called him a liar and hung up on him. Today we were told that the billing statement does not actually reflect what's due and is just numbers on a page. And the money that we could see had gone out of the account didn't really exist anyway.

I have no idea what sort of drugs they give to the Sprint customer help employees, but they must be really strong!

So now, we're waiting for an attorney to call us back- and you know how I feel about attorneys. Steve has been so stressed today that he called out sick to work, and has been half asleep most of the afternoon. My body feels like it's been hit by a truck, and I'm not entirely sure I'm not going to throw up.

How does this keep happening to us? How do we keep getting caught up with these companies that are so evil? I'm feeling like this is punishment, but I'm not sure what we've done to deserve this. I just want it to go away.

Captain, she can't take much more!

Sigh.

Heavy sigh.

Heaviest sigh!

Have I ever told you how much I hate Mondays? How the weekly torment has made it it's sole mission to tear down every last barrier I've put up against the angst, anguish, and soul crushing bleakness that stares me in the face?

Yeah. So, it's Monday, and I'm just done. I'm actually too tired to be depressed about it right now. Maybe that's a good thing.

Last week I was feeling a moodiness, a slightly psychotic "KILL ANYTHING THAT MOVES!" -ness that is fairly typical that my lady-time is eminent. I have a few tell tale signs and that's one of the least enjoyable. And usually, sorry if this is TMI but this is a horrifically honest blog, usually I get the most ridiculously painful cramps for about 2 hours and then it eases off and I bleed out. Honestly, last month I actually soaked through- to the point of have to change my pants- an overnight pad in 2 hours. Yeah, let that sink in.

I've had pain so bad that I've actually thrown up. I've had times I had to call in sick to work because I couldn't stand up straight off the bathroom floor.

But when I practically went into seizure from the intensity of the pain last night- that was a first. It was just really inconvenient that it didn't finally let me go until sometime after 1am when I had to be up around 7am to get the boy to school.

And then I had a flat tire. Seriously. I haven't had a flat tire in nearly 12 years! And this morning! This morning when I was exhausted and still in a bit of uncomfortableness, a nail that could've taken out a rhino was lodged in my rear tire. Mother fucker.

It must've happened when we pulled into the garage on Saturday afternoon, went flat on Sunday, and made me scream Monday. Oh what fun. So I was 2 doors down the road when I stopped, and we walked home. I told Steve, and he went to put the spare on while I strapped the motorcycle helmet onto my son- we were going to take the scooter to school. Funny thing, my little 150cc scooter really needs to be run once a week to keep the battery alive. It's been about a month since it's been run because it's simply been too hot here in that time to go anywhere without a climate controlled cage environment. It took a while to get it running.

I only had to pull over once in the 2.5 miles to school to tell my son, in a sweet loving voice of course, to LEAN INTO THE BLOODY CORNERS BEFORE YOU KILL US BOTH! Actually, that's only what I was thinking. What I actually said probably was sweet and loving compared to that. I don't actually want him to be afraid of riding.

Actually, as most Mondays go, it wasn't so bad. I mean, that was a seriously crappy start and I'm still freaking exhausted. But, the tire repair was free- loving Discount Tires!- and they even put it back on and checked the other tires for me- for free- and were extremely nice about it. Groceries, although a chore still bound to send me to an asylum, was quiet today and not nearly as aggravating as usual. My son had homework this afternoon to be done before next Monday, and although we had a horrendous argument about the phrase, "When is it due?"- never did I think that would be considered a trick question- he's already slightly over halfway done of his own choosing. I wasn't even going to make him work on it today! And yet...

Steve's in meetings this evening, which I hate more than I can say, but 2 of the planned 3 have been cancelled, so I may even get some time on the couch with my husband this evening. I am dreading next week when he's away on business, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

So maybe all the bad of Monday got it out of it's system before 9am.

I'm not entirely convinced that's any better, but I'm not convinced it's any worse either.

And yes, I do realize I'm rambling. I'm just so very very tired.

My one thing for today: it is actually getting cooler. It's still hotter than dog's balls, and especially at night, but that cooler weather is trying to fight it's way through. Why is that a good thing? Because I miss sleeping under covers curled up with my husband. I love the weight of a heavy quilt and his arm around me. For the last few months, just his hand on my arm has created a pool of sweat that drips into the sheets making us itchy and uncomfortable. Soon, we'll actually be able to be close without the fear of heat induced heart attack or heat stroke. That's a very good thing.

The world has blue blue balls

This post has two working titles. I went with blue balls because I thought it would be less offensive than "Dr. Lecter's feast day."

Allow me to explain. I understand that we've had a lot of storms building to the south of us. Yesterday afternoon, we were convinced that the 3 storms converging on us would be spectacular! I was battening down the hatches because the wind was so strong, the sky was the blackest I've seen it in a long time, and the slightly metallic smell of rain was like a promise. It was exciting, and we really need the rain. So when the storm broke up after barely spitting on us, it was disappointing to say the least. And this keeps happening! It looks like we're finally going to get some weather, but it breaks up as soon as it hits the houses.

My theory is that it's a bit like when a man is excited but gets no relief. It builds pressure. So maybe all this build up to storms without the release of an actual storm has built up the barometric pressure and made people ruder than they normally would be.

Or maybe the world has just gotten that bad and people are assholes. Hence, Dr. Lecter would have a feast. I love the idea of Hannibal Lecter because he only killed rude people. How many times have you thrown up your hands in exasperation because rudeness isn't a crime so you are totally helpless in dealing with the impolite morons that make living harder than it needs to be.

Today has been a doozy, and it's not even lunch time! Women stopping their SUV's in the middle of the road, stopping traffic in both directions, to have a conversation. Truck driver pulling so far forward into the intersection that I couldn't see oncoming traffic to make a safe turn, but the truck behind me really didn't care and just wanted me to GO! Workers parking their shopping cart/trolley/buggy diagonally across the aisle, blocking anyone from moving anywhere, arguing with their coworker. Really? REALLY?? Ugh.

On the good side, there's a cemetery down the road from our house that's attached to a church. The church has their sign announcing what this week's sermon is in the front corner of the cemetery. This sometimes is amusing, but today's was so perfect I almost had to pull over I was laughing so hard. I think I may try to get a picture tomorrow. Today, presiding over the cemetery, the sign read: Responding to God's invitation.

Metaphorical clouds moving in

It's probably TMI, but I think I'm pmsing. I'm angry. Just angry and things have been too hard today.

Once again I looked at how to get a business license since we've said we were going to do it for the past 2 weekends but didn't. So, I opened the websites (honestly, why must you register a business in 7 different offices?), and stared at them hoping one of the English words would make sense. Then I got depressed that the only thing written there that is actual English is "contact a lawyer." Well, lawyers have always been scum sucking low life criminal demons whenever I've had the misfortune of needing to seek legal advice, and they've never helped me before so why would now be any different?

So then there was a 30 minute period of intermittently being angry at how our society has over complicated every aspect of life, and anger at myself for being so fucking stupid I can't even figure out the simplest of tasks.

Probably not the best of ideas to then follow that up with looking at the files Steve gave me that are apparently what our website is built from. I tried to open one and it just said, "No, you can't do that." Yes, computer file, you are so right. I cannot fathom how to update a website. People keep telling me how insanely easy it is, "It's just dragging and dropping or copying the files across.  Anyone can do it!" Huh, anyone but idiots apparently. 'Cause I don't get it.

That was followed by another 30 minutes of berating everything in our society, but most especially myself.

Onto something I can do because I've been doing it a lot: braiding. Yes, that fun little thing we used to do as little girls has become the only thing I'm any good at. Except I got to the end of the necklace I was making for Steve, my hand cramping, my wrist swollen, only to discover that I fucked that up, too. I had to dismantle the whole thing, and I'll have to try again. Not tonight, though, my wrist is in a lot of pain.

Then I spent the entire ride home from picking my son up from school trying to get him to answer a simple question: "Have they given you your school planner yet?" I didn't think it was a complicated or trick question, but apparently to him it's the equivalent of asking him to explain string theory!

Oh, but he's not in art anymore. He's now doing theater. He doesn't know why, they didn't say, just is. I have a sinking feeling it has something to do with my email to the art teacher yesterday. I found a piece of paper from her saying that if any parents would like to share their artistic knowledge with the class, she wants to know because she loves to "[expose the students] to many different artists' styles and passions through special guest visitors." I don't believe in coincidence, so it sucks. Big time.

I don't have a one thing today. I'm tired, I'm hurting, and I'm pissed off. I'm going to enjoy my Laproaig and watch people get hurt on World's Dumbest before dinner.

End of Summer

Today is Labor Day here in the US. A day for sales and bbq's. Growing up in Southern California, it was also the traditional end of the summer tourist season, so it's become synonymous (for me anyway) with the end of summer.

I had to look up what Labor Day actually is, or was when it began. According to Wikipedia it is "a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of their country." Well, I guess that explains why it no longer really has that feel to it since most workers feel and are treated like little more than slaves. But that's not what I want to talk about today. 

I'm really looking forward to cooler weather. We moved to central Texas from southern California this summer, and I'm tired of being too hot to think. As a child, fall was always my favorite season, even though a southern California fall is not really fall-ish in the sense of any of the decorations or movies. The leaves don't really change color, the days are still clear blue skies, and the clothing is still shorts and t-shirts. But you can go outside without baking alive, and sometimes a sweater in the evening can feel nice. 

Now, however, Labor Day, the end of summer, breaks my emotions. I'm elated about the promise of cooler weather, but heartbroken over another summer that didn't live up to expectations. 

See, living in New Zealand, the winters were gray, wet, and bitterly cold. You looked forward to summer (which wasn't actually hot in the since that it is here), and relished every moment of the warmth because you knew it wouldn't last long. Summer in New Zealand also coincides with Christmas, and the entire country all but shuts down for the month of January. The only option that makes any sense at all is to spend your days at the beach and the evenings bbqing and playing with friends and family. Here, every house is closed up tighter than a.... tight thing, to try to protect from the searing heat. 

So now I'm sad that summers are no longer the fun season they were, and feel a bit of home sickness for New Zealand. I'm relieved to be going into cooler temperatures without the months of dismal gray (I hope, this will be our first winter in Texas). Yet I'm mourning the daily trips to the swimming pool, and hopeful that next year at this time we'll have our own pool. 

It's like a storm of warring emotions in my head right now. 

But, the Smirnoff is calling, and those ribs on the bbq are already smelling divine. I hope everyone is having a fun and safe Labor Day.