Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Monday, May 10, 2010


I hate "Mothers Day" worse than any other day or Holiday.  Barf.
Can I please get a free pass already...Geez.

I didn't have to work, even though I volunteered to.  Because 80 hours of fixing other peoples problems, apparently isn't enough.

I woke up at 7:00am and worked in the garden/yard until 6:00pm.  My thighs and back, and hello skin cancer!  Hello!  Pain is good. 

My sweet little large boys love the OUTSIDE as much as I do, so they helped me a lot.  We completely tore up the side yard, and re-sodded.  Five huge containers re-planted.  Garden is GOOD.  Radishes and lettuce already!  Warm tomato's not soon enough.  Everything weeded, controlled and fixed.
Earth, dirt and soil is awesome.

Devon's fill in the blank Mothers day card:  What does my Mom need?  Us, Dogs, Garden, Money.  Spot on little large dude.

I didn't call the chick who gave birth to me.
I didn't call my awesome Mom sisters.
I didn't call my Grandma. (Should have).
I turned my cell phone off.  Left it off in the house.
Incredible freedom/power in shutting that damn needy thing off.
And then the ## missed calls, the ## missed texts, the ## emails.  Etc. Etc.
I seriously considered flushing it, except my plumbing is 62 years old, and contractual obligations.

I did take care of my filleted sister and the teenager with removed wisdom teeth.

I'm SO good at taking care of other people.
I'm so good at fixing everything except me.

And Dave. 
Dave. Dave. Dave.
Good, so intense.
He is so amazing.
I don't deserve him.
I really struggle with making him go away for his own benefit.

A co-worker of mine, mother died recently.
Sad and whatever that process demands.
But I feel least she had one. 
At least she felt that.
At least she has something to mourn.
I've been mourning something I never had for 35 years.
My "mother" is "living" and cares less than your dead one.
I don't feel anything but sorrow for her.
At least I know, understand and am confronting why I'm messed up.
She denies everything.
There is no productive place for her in my life.
But I understand it.

And here comes "Fathers Day".
But that's different.
I don't want that.
I reject every. single. second.
Rot in your made up Hell you sick sadistic prick.

But Dave. Dave. Dave.
Who CHOSE to be a father to our girls.
Who tries SO HARD every single day.
With so little in return.
Who should have given up years ago.
Who inspires me.
My person.  My rock.
Who shouldn't, but DOES love me.
Who deserves SO MUCH MORE.

Who is the reason...I go back to the office I LOATHE so much, to fix myself, to be better for HIM...and for our awesome children.


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