Chapter 4 and Husband #4

My brother often calls me and asks me to tell him how it was, our youth. Like he can’t trust his memories. Could it really have happened like that? I see that it has warped his sense of what is right, what is proper, in relationships and raising children. I often point out to him that just because that’s what happened to us, it doesn’t make it right. Regular beatings are not a part of childhood, little brother.

I really can’t remember much time going by before the mechanic moved in, lock stock and barrel. He was a compilation of all three previous husbands, tall, heavy, mean. He brought with him heavy debt and a daughter my age that lived with him because her mother could not control her. We shared a room and fought like real siblings. On the weekends we got to hang with his other daughter and son, both younger, just to up the fighting to new levels. I was always in charge and wrong. Anything went wrong and I got my ass whipped. I learned to drag others into the foray and sometimes we all got our ass whipped.

Fifth grade I tryout for cheerleader and make alternate. Mom doesn’t even congratulate me. A week later I’m told that I’m in, someone has quit. I run home cheering all the way and show my mom the papers. She probably said she was sorry but I don’t remember anything but the crushing disappointment when she said she couldn’t afford the uniform. “But I made it”, I keep saying.

Soon they realize that we need more room or maybe mom was trying to make the mechanic love her with the promise of his own garage. I honestly don’t know. We move just as I finish elementary school. We move to the middle of Amish country. I still have a hard time making friends. The kids have been together in a tight knit community for generations. They seem suspicious of my offer of friendship. My brother has it worse, much worse. He is a chubby loud mouth and he gets his ass kicked repeatedly. On the school bus, I pretend not to know him and the bullies wack him with books and stamp his face with a rubber stamp that says “bullshit”.

Mom finally marries husband number 4. They dress semi-formally and leave us home and are married at a chapel with just two witnesses. It was all rather quiet. This would be her longest marriage yet, 10 years to the end. He doesn’t touch me but he becomes famous for his verbal and physical abuse. My brother becomes known as fatboy and I’m Miss Piggy. We have a wooden paddle with holes drilled in it.

There was fun mixed into the pain of living. We had snowmobiles and mini bikes, a race car, a motorhome, a ski boat, horses. It all took work and upkeep but it was fun. I don’t believe I ever had a friend spend the night at my house. I can’t remember anyone. I could never predict how he would act in front of other people. He will actually paddle us in front of our friends or call us names or tell horrible stories about us.

It’s about this time I sit in my room and make the list:

“Things I will never do to my children”.
I will never allow them to be abused sexually, physically, or mentally
I will never crush their spirit
I will not call them degrading names nor will I let others do so
I will never let them think I don’t love them

This is what its like to be rich

This must be what its like to be rich but without the money, four days with not much to do. We've been eating, sleeping, hanging out, watching movies with no scheduled activities. Big Daddy and I were practically giggling last night, "we've still got two more days of this!"

Right now is my favorite time of the day, I'm the only one awake. We all went to bed around 2 am but due to a previous nap, I'm up this morning since 8 am. I've opened the doors & windows and I'm listening to the sweet sound of the wind rushing thru our house. No TV, no radio, no voices, even the animals are quiet. Just me... And I'm giggling to myself, "I don't have to do anything today." Now, there are plenty of things I could do but nothing I have to do. I'm in love with this moment.

I need to go, I don't want to miss a moment of nothingness...

"Just Shut It"

I need to learn to watch office drama like it was a movie and I'm not allowed to talk back to the screen. Too often I’m wishing I could erase my conversations. Then I fret, why did I say that, why did I say anything? My husband says there’s no filter between my brain and my mouth. If I think it, it’s coming out. I never consciously gossip but that’s what it becomes. “Well, so and so told me that she heard that girl in accounting said…” Yikes! I’m a gossip queen. Must put a halt to opening my mouth.

If I’m successful I will also lose weight. Yea! I’ve discovered the “No Gossip Diet”. My motto will be “Just Shut It”.

What am I supposed to do with that information?

How is it I had a three-day weekend and yet I feel more frazzled than ever? I called a friend to go shopping with me and no sooner than I picked her up she proceeds to tell me she’s going to leave her husband and how they haven’t been happy for at least the last year. Now people, I coveted her relationship with her husband. They seemed to have so much fun together. Now I’m hearing things I’ve got no business hearing.

So I spend more time than I should have with her because I wanted her to not feel rushed. “OK, you’re leaving your husband of twenty years, now I’ve got to pick up some groceries, get out.” I feel bad for her and her husband. I know it takes two to tango and it can’t all be his fault or her’s. She never asked me not to say anything to anyone and this is usually the first thing you tell your confessor. Is she hoping I’ll talk so people will know without her having to actually face them or is she testing my confidentiality?

I had a lot of people this week tell me things, personal things, that were none of my business but now I know. It’s hard to shut Pandora’s Box. Things aren’t always what they seem.

It's raining, It's pouring

Damn, it’s raining hard here. There’s a brand new river behind my office. The list of road closures is too long to list here. Most school and daycares have closed. And the Mayor has asked employers to start a staggered release of employees at 1 pm.

I just saw the building maintenance supervisor and he said the other businesses in the building have already sent their employees home.

No one in my office seems to be aware of, or care about, the mayor’s decree. I wonder if he knows how we thumb our nose at his suggestions. I keep telling supervisors but they just smile. One person seems to think that this is how she’ll get a 40 hour work week from staff. Just keep them over night.

One person is already dead from the flood waters, let’s not make it two.

Is Jerry Springer available for parties?

Well, I did it. I surprised little princess with a birthday party. She left to get movies with Big daddy and when she returned all her friends hit her with silly string. I then spent the next 12 hours listening to little girl games. No, not little girl games but preteen “how mean can I be and still have people side with me” games. If I had to go thru that on a daily basis, I’d kill myself. It’s like jungle warfare with words.

I started to relate some of the mean things they said to each other but it just looked even uglier on paper.

Finally, their parents came to pick them up and I thought "thank goodness, its over". Then the last mother (little princess’ best-friend’s mom) came in and she was pissed. She said she couldn’t believe that I let the 7 girls sleep in a tent in our front yard. That she came by in the middle of the night and the front door was locked and she assumed that all the girls were inside. Now she finds out they were in the tent afterall. Do we know that we have two registered sex offenders in our subdivision? She proceeds to tell me how dare I endanger her daughter’s life and storms out.

I was blind sighted by her attack. I tried to explain that the door was locked by mistake when my daughter came home from work at 1 am and that the girls had a cell phone in the tent and the front window was open because the girls had run an extension cord into the house for the radio and that my husband had gotten up to check on them several times.

The woman was under the impression I was unaware of the sex offenders. Untrue. One has lived there about 6 years, my family knows which house is his and what he looks like and what to do if he is seen. In six years we have never seen him out of his yard. The second one moved in about 2 years ago and again we informed our neighbors and discussed with our children what do to if they saw him. Neither of them live on my street and I can't stop anyone from living where they choose. (Trust me, I checked on it.) We also have 2 deputy sheriffs and 1 police detective that live within a square block of us. We are a neighborhood that knows our neighbors and watches the comings and goings.

I felt that the girls were secure by shear numbers and two watch dogs. My girls have slept in the tent in our front yard many times. But this woman had me second-guessing myself and I felt like shit the rest of the weekend.

I had to tell little princess that I was pretty sure she would not be allowed to play with her best friend any more. I had to explain why. She deserved to know. She called her friend 3 times over the weekend to tell her she left stuff at our house. Her calls were not answered or returned.

Next year I think I’ll just invite Jerry Springer and crew. I think there will be less drama…

Cheaters Never Prosper

Well, I didn’t prosper but I did have fun. We went to Austin to plow through public records, a little task assigned to us by the corporate attorney. We were looking for something specific but thought the only way to gather the information was to spend hours pouring over public records. Well, it poured rain like a cow pissing off a flat rock the whole way there. The hour’s drive took almost 2 hours. We parked at a meter on the street putting all the change we could into the meter and buying us three hours time. We flipped a penny to see who would have to come back and feed the meter in the rain.

We found the receptionist, explained what we were looking for and got busy, for about 15 minutes. One of the clerks came by and explained we could get exactly what we needed from their website, all summarized, neat and tidy in a spreadsheet. Ok then.

We quickly consulted amongst ourselves and decided not to waste a day in Austin. We both have never been to the capital and asked one of the guards about tours. “Every 15 minutes and no charge.” Cool.

Did you know that you can just wander around the capital? We opted for the self guided tour and just wandered from room to room, floor to floor. A couple of times we weren’t sure if we were “authorized” to proceed into certain areas. My philosophy was “if there aren’t velvet ropes blocking it off, I’m going in.” We saw the house and senate floors, a ton of history and a fabulously beautiful building.

Well worth the charge.

What's It All About?

It’s that time of the month when Big princess, me and a couple of other people head down to the family shelter to watch kids while their parents take classes. It always makes for a long day since I have a 7 am breakfast meeting on the same day every month. But I don’t really mind going. We always work the 4-5 year old class and most of the kids are a lot of fun. They like to cuddle up on laps and read books, color pictures and make stuff. We brought a hands-on craft and then colored Thanksgiving hand outs.

I asked the kids what they were going to do for Thanksgiving and some said they planned to sleep. Wow, how sleep deprived are 4 & 5 year olds that they look forward to getting a nap. A couple of kids planned to eat, like they don’t normally get to eat? And one little girl said she planned to watch football. The director came up and whispered that most of the kids didn’t even know what “Thanksgiving” was about.

Ha! Ha! Eat, watch football and nap. That sounds like they totally understand.

Weather Report

It’s grey and foggy today. I look out my fourth floor window and see nothing. It’s funny because I look into the bag of “what I have left to give” and it’s grey and foggy too. I can’t tell if it’s empty or not.

My pastor found me in the kitchen after services. I was trying to clear the bulletin board so I could put up the “Adopt a Family” angels. I had already filled in for the toddler Sunday school teacher who was filling in for me on my Sunday school kids’ camp out, greeted guests, clarified several ongoing projects with people, and made plans for the women’s wrap party. I didn’t have the supplies or the help I needed. I knew the campers were due back any minute and after a weekend of camping in thunderstorms and chilly weather, little princess was going to want to get home pretty fast.

“I know you asked me not to include your name on the deacon list but…” I’d like to know just when ‘but’ became something to dread. “But your name kept coming up. We’d like you to pray about this and let us know.”

Do they know I’m no spiritual whiz? I probably learn more from my Sunday school kids than they learn from me. My only qualifications to teach the class at all is I’m a mom, I still like kids and I can follow the lesson plan that comes in the study guide that is picked by people smarter than me. Hell, part of the appeal of teaching my class is that I don’t have to attend the adult class where my stupidity shines through.

I checked the bag again to see if I have the strength to take on one more project. It’s grey and foggy. I think I’ll pray for clearer weather.

Cloning Project success

Big princess is so like me that at times I'm frightened for her. Without knowing, she makes many of the same choices I did in my youth, from playing the violin for one year and then changing to the flute to initially wanting to be lawyers when we grew up. I even once, briefly, thought I might have a talent for drawing but my mother quickly snuffed that idea.

I worry she will make the same mistakes even though I haven't shared with her some of my most worst mistakes. (Some so bad, I can't even bring myself to list them here.)

People often mistake us for sisters. I'm not sure if I look younger than my age or she looks older than hers. After all, I was 21 when she was born. It's not like I was 15 or anything. Little princess has even been mistaken for Big Princess' daughter instead of little sister and they're only 7 years apart.

I hope she can save herself from making my same mistakes because everyone knows you can't save your kids from making their own mistakes.

She does show potential.

She arose early yesterday, 6:30 am (normal start time for her is around 8 am) to borrow my car to buy a balloon bouquet for a friend's birthday. She even called the store the night before to make sure she wouldn't have any problems getting them so early and to confirm how much cash she'd need. Well, she gets home and tells me the man there charged her $5 more than the quoted price and 2 of the balloons have already popped. She's pretty pissed (remember she's been up since 6:30). I told her to call the store and talk to a manager. I really expected her to say something about not wanting to go to the trouble. Sometimes she has her father's "it's easier to say nothing and just be pissed off" attitude. But she calls and calmly explains the situation. I'm standing by throwing out comments like, "You just give me the phone if he tries to blow you off." Then I hear her say, "No, I don't want all my money back. That just doesn't seem fair. What I do want is to pay the price I was originally quoted and to have the 2 balloons replaced."

"Mom, I need to borrow the car again."

It took me 3 decades to figure out what was fair to anyone but me.

Wow, great potential...

Can I still swear and spit?

I was going to write about weird body parts I’ve seen this week, an apparently reattached ear, a teen with a forehead almost twice the height of the rest of his head. Then I went to church last night and was hit with “I think you’d make a good deacon.”

What the hell?

I was just passing out the stuff from the school fundraiser and chatting with one of the other mothers. I mentioned that I heard the church was looking for new deacons and I wanted no part of that mess. She said, “Well I think you’d make a good deacon.” She proceeded to lay out why she had reached that conclusion. She’s wrong.

I tried to explain how I didn’t want to feel obligated to doing stuff. That it would suck the joy out of it and make it another chore. She said “You’re already doing deacon stuff, you’d just get the title.” Yeah right, and another couple of meetings to add to my calendar, more stuff to freaking worry about, and what if I became like my pastor?

Not that it would be a bad thing to be like my pastor. He’s one of the coolest God guys I know. He actually knows that he is human and that God doesn’t like him better than the rest of us just because he studied God in college. But church on Sunday’s is his job. And man, that’s got to suck the fun out of it. I, on the other hand, am free to get lost in the worship, let my mind wander, even sleep if I feel like it (little princess would probably pinch me).

I told Big princess about the conversation on the way home. She was like, “Do they know you swear and spit?”

I’m not sure Cupcake.

Someone remind me

Little princess has a birthday coming up. I'm thinking (and so is she) that a surprise birthday party would be nice. I think every child deserves at least one. The thing is to make sure you do at an age they will remember. She has been on me for a couple years now about throwing her a surprise party. The problem is that her birthday falls during Thanksgiving and her sister's birthday is only two weeks after hers.

Time is getting away from me and I haven't put any plan into motion. Somebody please remind me next week to get started. I'm thinking of setting the tent up in the front yard. I'll make her help me clean it since we still haven't done this from our beach vacation last month. Then I take her out somewhere and all the guests can hide in the tent. Order in some pizza, pick up some soda and run an extension cord to the tent and maybe my house will not be trashed.

Oooohhhh, and remind me to buy some silly string. It's just not as funny if you don't have silly string to surprise them with.

Why they do what they do

Why do those people stand in the road and hawk newspapers all day? They are out there, running between cars from early morning til early evening. Are people buying papers at 5 pm?

I know that newpaper routes don't pay much. We used to fill in for neighbors when they needed to go out of town. And they would pay us more than they would actually make just to get us to do it. I can't imagine making a living wage by selling papers in the street.

Who are these people? Are they homeless people trying to pull themselves up by their bootstraps? I don't even know if they are employed by the newspaper or some company exploiting the uneducated. Big princess said they should hire girls in bikini's like the hotdog girls who wear thongs in Florida while selling hotdogs on street corners. "That's how you would sell a lot of newspapers." Ahhh, no thanks. I see enough stuff to make me ill all ready. No need to add girls in thongs hawking newspapers in the street.

I'm already worried that some poor person is going to be run over. I can almost guarantee it if thong clad girls start selling our papers. Besides, I don't want to buy my newspaper from someone with ink on their ass.

Old soul, New body

I watched the babies in the nursery today. I occasionally fill in when our regular person is out of town but today she caught me in the hallway and asked if I could watch the babies. She said she was hanging on by a thread. I don't know if she meant spiritually or physically but I told her, no problem.

I hadn't been in the nursery in a couple of months so I had a new baby to learn with. She is a tiny little thing with plenty of dark hair, with a little nose and rosebud lips and tiny eyes with long lashes. She is a foster baby who was put into foster care while just three days old. She is totally amazing, this little bundle of baby. I was told she normally sleeps the whole time.

Well, she's getting older (she's probably about a month old now), maybe realizing time is short and you can't sleep your life away. Maybe she was just gassy. I held her, rocking and patting her. I snuggled her into the crook of my arm and for a moment she gazed into my eyes and seemed to search my soul. I could hardly breathe or blink, afraid I would lose the connection we had. Her eyes scanned mine and she seemed to be reading my intentions toward her. Then she sighed and closed her eyes. I felt her body relax as she fell asleep.

Wow, better than a sermon.

Chapter 3 My Earliest Memories

Life trots on for a few years, not many. We have moved before but we now live in the first house I can remember. It has a chain-link fenced backyard with a swing set. The front yard has two tall trees by the street, one of which is perfect for climbing. The other has whirly birds that float down to earth to become new trees. It is middle class heaven. We have two old ladies on one side of us and a family with three girls on the other. Everyone is normal.

One day an electrician comes to the house to fix something and mom invites him to stay for dinner. He has chisled features and a slim build. He is to become my nightmare. She marries husband number 3. He is a strict father figure doling out whippin’s from his belt. Occasionally my brother and I have welts on our back, bottoms, and legs.

I am about eight the first time he touches me. About this time is also when I first remember seeing them having sex in their bedroom with the door open. I found pictures they took of each other naked.

He convinces my mother I should have a mini bike and they buy me a Yamaha 90. I don’t have many friends. I don’t seem to know how to make any. Most of the kids I go to school with are black which puzzles me now since my neighborhood was definitely white. I’m thinking that kids will like me if I have a mini bike and I can’t wait to learn how to ride it.

I have to give him a hand job to convince him to take me out to the field and show me how to ride. I don’t remember him telling me not to tell anyone. But I didn’t tell anyone.

As a family we used to go up in the woods and ride motorcycles and shoot guns. He had a son from a previous marriage but I don’t recall that causing many problems. The boy was slightly older than me and we basically ignored each other. He live several hours away and I remember long boring drives to get him and return him.

The man became more and more perverted, coming out to raise the garage door for my mother totally naked in broad daylight. They often fought and he would hit her. Mom started hanging out at a garage with a man that had hit her years before. She made us swear not to tell the electrician. Meanwhile, he continued to torment me. Anything and everything became favors that would have to be returned upon his request. The end came in the middle of the night, mom packed us a bag and we went to stay with a friend of hers until she could get him out of our house and file for divorce #3.

Cake for Breakfast?

I was at Starbucks this morning standing in line at 7:30 am when I heard a mother and daughter at a table behind me.

“Sit down honey, drink your milk. Do you want some cake?”

I’m thinking ‘Wow, you rock mom! Cake for breakfast?

Little girl voice, “I don’t want cake.”

Who is this child and what’s her problem with cake for breakfast?

I order a venti almond mocha and shuffle to the pick up area where I can watch the exchange between mother and daughter. Mom is probably early 30’s, polished and well dressed considering she’s wearing workout clothes. The little girl is three maybe 4 and just as stylish. She has a juice box of milk and I think points for mom, milk for breakfast is good. Then I notice that its organic milk. Minus points, organic yuck.

“Honey, eat your cake.”

Points for mom, cake for breakfast is cool. Oops, double check, its zucchini cake, no frosting. ‘Minus points for mom for trying to trick her into thinking she’s getting cake for breakfast.’

The little girl grabs a handful of zucchini cake and crumples it onto the floor with a flourish of her small hand.

Yea! Points for the little girl.

Stand Up for God, Stand down for politics

This is the lesson I taught little princess on ‘the fly’ last night. “Stand up loudly for your God but just nod your head when someone starts bashing your political candidate.”

We were attending a children’s meeting at a member’s home last night and little princess told the nice mommy that she hoped Kerry won. The woman went bezerk on her, ranting about gay rights and the evil known as Kerry. Little princess started to defend her candidate and I quickly grabbed her and quietly explained how she should respond to people like this. The woman had her computer in her family room and spent the meeting tallying the numbers herself, cackling and gloating over every state confirmed for her candidate.

Now for the record, my girls actually listened to the debates and have followed the issues. They have asked me questions I couldn’t answer. “Mommy, what does Bush plan to do about social security?” My darling, don’t worry, I don’t think you’ll get any of that. “Hey Mom, what’s Kerry’s plan to balance the budget?” Look sweetie, I know you missed getting to vote this time by 30 days but I promise there will still be a need to balance the budget next go round.

My girls have actually seen Kerry in person. My last job in PR required me to do a lot of political rallies and I dragged them with me. Maybe that influenced their democratic leanings. They feel like they know him, having seen him in person. I know Bush’s elementary school faces bothered them during the debates. “What, is he in, like, 5th grade or what?” “Mom, you smack me when I make those faces.”

After the meeting, the woman calmly re-explained to my 10-year-old daughter why Kerry was scum of the earth. Little princess just nodded her head with a look on her face like she was giving therapy.

“And how does that make you feel?”

Chapter 2 Isn't really about me either

I’m sure later I’ll think of stories that should have been told in between the ones laid out here. Maybe I’ll go back after I think I’m finished and add a chapter at the end titled “the missing stories” instead of editing the whole thing and putting the missing stories in their proper place. Who knows?

My mom remarried a nice man who has apparently been overweight and balding for all of his life. She had him adopt me and for 18 years he was my father. He told her he couldn’t have children (I don’t know why he thought this). But lo and behold he gave me a little brother. My brother and I are approximately two years a part so you can tell my mom didn’t wait long to remarry. This is probably the beginning of her co-dependency on men. This is strictly my diagnosis and not that of a trained medical professional.

I can remember fights where the two of them fought over my brother. I was probably around five years old and remember crying while watching them pull him back and forth by his arms wrestling for custody of him. This is when I knew he loved my brother more than me. They never fought over who got me.

My mom says she couldn’t live with a man who wouldn’t stand up for her. Let’s see if I can pull the memory of what she told me from the recesses of my mind. A man borrowed something of value from my father and wouldn’t give it back. Mom sent him to get it but he was too afraid. I think he told her something along the lines of “But he’ll kick my ass if I go over there.” Mom went to get it and the man kicked her ass. Beat her up. Remember this man because he reappears in the story several years later and plays a major role in my life.

So ends marriage number 2.

You'd think I'd feel better

I slept with the window open last night and I listened to the house exhale and inhale. I felt the breath flow over my body. I smelled the wind as it slipped by my window carrying God’s fresh breath. I listened to the night sounds. A coyote howled and the dogs mimic the call. Crickets chirped and trees still holding tight to their leaves made swooshing sounds. I heard the soft snore of my dog, ever faithful, sleeping on the floor beside my bed. I heard my children stir restlessly amid their blankets.

All this,
as God made it,
without electricity.

I'm Bitter

People are all the time asking me to do stuff, take care of things, organize, set up, be in charge but then they ignore what they’ve asked me to do. I’m still miffed about all the people not showing up for Big princess’ coronation. It might not have been a big deal to them but it was huge for her. I have attended their baby showers, weddings, baptisms, children’s birthdays and graduations, their housewarmings, Tupperware parties because I am their friend and it was important to them.

Saturday morning after a long hard week, the girls and I went up to the church to fulfill a dead woman’s last request, that her canning jars be put to good use. I bought snacks and sent reminders. I talked to people individually. Not one single person showed up or even called. I told Big princess that I hoped to God no one told me they were sorry they missed it the next day because I thought I might blow up.

The week had been full of disappointment, not that Big princess didn’t make Queen but that people had let us down. People I thought of as family didn’t show up to support her. Hell, her best friends stayed home and asked her to call them when it was over and tell them how she did. Could they not get off their ass? Then the boy who was supposed to take her to the dance called 2 days before the dance to say he was going to work instead. Saturday’s canning fiasco was another stab in the back.

I don’t want to attend another event. I definitely don’t want to plan any more events. They make me doubt myself and my likeability factor. Maybe these people just don’t like me. Maybe I’m not a good person.

I feel bitter.