Enrolled

Last weekend Hubby and I had our 12th anniversary and went to a B&B, it was a nice place but I never want to go to a B&B again. #1, the people who owned it were older and our room was unbearably hot. We had to sleep with the windows open and I felt my carbon footprint growing to Armageddon proportions. #2, we were informed that the other rooms were boarded by a group of women visiting for their 50th high school reunion.

That's all fine and dandy, but my respect for others prevented me from having the kind of celebration that I wanted... naked and loud! Instead, we were in by ten o'clock and quiet as church-mice thereafter. Quiet naked church mice.

And being in someone's HOME, I just felt guilty about everything. When we checked out I mentioned that I'd spilled some steak juice from my after-dinner styrofoam container. Hubby asked me, "Why the hell did you tell them that?" And I said, "well, I don't want them to think it's something else (it looked like poop) , plus if they know what it is, they'll have a better chance of getting the stain out."

I need a hotel, man. That much is clear. I don't want to tiptoe, I don't want any guilt, and I don't want to sweat my tits off just because my circulatory system still works. I want to have sex, chill my beer in the sink with free ice, watch cable, shower under fire-hose water pressure, shove tiny soaps in my purse, throw a tip on the dresser and LEAVE.

It was nice though... and even though I was peer-pressured into going to bed by three am, I must admit it was a good night's sleep. Nice sheets. I would've have gone to bed before three in the morning, but I'm not accustomed to so many cable options.

Then on Monday, I signed up for real estate school. It's official. The tuition is paid and I'm pretending it's not refundable. I begin class on the 23rd of this month and I'll be done by Dec. 16th.

I've been dressing the part every day. My husband is like, "Why are you doing this?" To me it's simple. I've been home ruling the roost for a long time now. Pajama pants are my casual wear, and jeans are my formal wear. Unless there's a wedding or a funeral or a party, you'll find me in jeans or slippers. I feel I have to start playing the part now, so I'll have time to get accustomed. At this point, I feel about as comfy in a business suit as I would in a chicken suit. But I'm hoping that consistency will help me feel more relaxed and professional... and maybe even credible.

This is a big leap for me, you guys. It might sound simple, but I'm nervous. I need to re-train myself so those insecurities die in the face of confidence. I want to do this and I want to be good at it (replace the word "want" with "need," and the word "good" with "superfuckingfantastic!"

Love to all!

As Always....

High Dive

I was busy from about 3:00 on. I slept until then... so worn out from being up all night with a case of the "thinkies." Most of the shit I did won't be of interest... but I did do one thing.

I answered an ad in the newspaper with a local real estate agency and I have a meeting with a woman tomorrow at 2:30. So tonight, I will have to find a way to sleep, even if it means laying here and masturbating until I wear myself out. Gotta get my daughter out of the bed first, 'cause that's just creepy! I gotta sleep, because I have to go buy (yuck) pantyhose tomorrow.

Tonight I did hit the thrift store and found several petite suits that fit me okay. Fuck, it's been so long since I dressed this way... I looked at myself in the dressing room mirror and felt fake. It was like playing dress-up for halloween. If I decide to pursue real estate in earnest, I'll need to have these suits professionally altered because even petite sizes look long on me.

I also found a dress to wear this weekend... the hubby's ambush anniversary date. I don't LOVE it, but it looks nice on me so I bought in case I don't have time to find something else.

It was a good score. I bought an evening dress, 11 suits, several shirts to compliment the suits, a board game, a book, 2 shirts for the teenager, and two hard-side samsonsite suitcases... all for about 65 beans. They're nice suits, too. Quality brands and flattering cuts. Buying suits for $6.50, I won't mind spending $30 or $40 having them altered to my exact shape.

The board game was "upwards." My older kids can compete in Scrabble, but the little guy will benefit from this word game, I hope. My daughter loved one of the two shirts I bought... so if anyone wants a retro tinkerbell T in a medium, let me know. The suitcases are for ebay. I decoupage them, or paint them, and they sell for pretty good prices. The two I procured tonight are true gems.... with a garment section and secure hangers. They don't have keys, but I have a whole bucket of samsonite keys and I'm sure I'll figure it out.

I don't know why I keep buying them. I only have ONE suitcase listed right now (decoupaged in a rock-and-roll theme), but I have ten unfinished suitcases in the basement. Now I have twelve.

I'm not trying to increase sales via my blog, but here's the link just in case you're curious.... I do good work: My Expensive Suitcase

It's not really expensive.... these things take a week to create. That's why I'm considering painting them instead.

Anyway, I'm pretty nervous about tomorrow's meeting. Her first question on the phone was a weed-out one, "Do you have $1,000 - $1,500 to pay for your licensing classes?"

Well, yeah... if they accept Visa. If I had to put up cash, I might question myself right out of an opportunity. Because, when it comes down to it, I'm HAUNTED by the fact that I haven't produced significant income in a long time. Haven't seen a pay stub in a decade.

I try to remind myself, stuart smalley style, that I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me... but I'm still intimidated. There are two things working for me though... I love selling... and I love houses. Similarly to seeing the good in all people, I see the good in all properties. I can help people sell their house for top dollar, and I can help people find the house of their dreams.

HAHA... more affirmations. Guys, if I'm going to go for this, I must be committed! I can't waste a thousand bucks on a whim. If I had money to burn, I'd have prettier nails, a better haircut, a maid, and a fucking therapist. I don't think I need a therapist though... there's no flaw within me that I can't fix.

I'm going to have to fuck with my comfort zone, though. I may have to drag out some 12-yr-old diaries to remind myself that I have a successful spirit. The stay-at-home gig was good for the kids, but it was never good for me. I went from "driven" to lazy in a very short period of time.

It's not fair to call myself lazy... no one else has called me lazy... but mentally I've always compared what I'm doing with what I COULD be doing. I haven't always done my best. In the back of my head I've become resentful about being a maid, a cook, a wet-nurse, a laundress.

That brings me to the ONLY resistance I feel toward employment. IF I pursue this (and I want to), who's going to take care of the house and the children. Will it still be a job that falls on my lonely shoulders? If that's the case, this family will have to run like a well-oiled machine whether I'm present or not.

I'm gonna sink my teeth into this. I don't know what kind of interview this is, but I know it complies with my natural drive. I need a "sponsor" to apply for a real estate license... and I've no doubt that I'll get top marks across the board. This isn't 4th period history... this is important to my real life! I love selling and I love houses... I just need education on the legalities, and a mentor who will nudge me toward commission.

Nervous. But I've made up my mind. With or without hubby, it's time for me to work. I might as well do something I'll be good at and enjoy.

I can't believe I'm going to wear panty hose tomorrow and use an iron. What a mind fuck! I'm wearing bib-overalls right now and I like it that way. I'll make the fashion change if it makes me feel like I'm helping people and and earning an honest living.

When I was bidding on a used car, I chose a '68 Beetle over a kick-ass 80's mercedes. I won the Beetle, and I love it! But from a real estate standpoint, a mercedes would have projected the appropriate image.

Real estate may be a problem because I reject the idea of image (except when it comes to house-staging). Can I pull it off in an old Mercedes and thrift-store Dior suits? Time will tell.

Despite the question marks of "getting a job" and "my marriage," I'm really happy. The kids have been great. The teenager deserves a lot of credit because when I'm busy making dinner, she'll review her brothers' homework and make sure they've done it right. She never used to show such interest. It's proof that we're capable of being on a really tenacious team.

Now, how do I extend that initiative to include my husband? We all deserve to be our best... and and so far it seems that we're at our best when he's not here to throw a negative note into the symphony.

I'll be posting. Sincere thanks to anyone who's reading.

Love, Rachael

Inspired by a crazy cat lady

For as long as I can remember, I've struggled with balance. I'm up or I'm down... I'm on or I'm off.

There's an illusion running rampant in my head that believes in perfection and failure with no gray area, and both are toxic for me.

When I feel like I'm failing, a "fuck it" attitude takes over pretty quickly. Like, "Well, I'm late, so I'll just flake out altogether and invent an excuse to not show up." Or "Hey, this pan has burnt stuff on it, so I won't wash ANY dishes." Those are the days I watch Maury and judge other people for not knowing who fathered their babies. Good ol' Maury always provides me someone I can feel better than.

When I'm up, it's almost worse. So hung up on making everything perfect that I become a huge nag... "I JUST did ALL the laundry - WHOSE SOCK IS THIS!" With eyes so fiery that no one will admit to the orphaned sock.

Things have been nicer since hubby left. Weird. I don't have him to scapegoat, and it's much easier to manage the family because I'm not fixated on being pissed off at him. My main complaints about him aren't unique... I sound like a broken record. But with him out of the picture, I'm fucking happier. No guarantee it will last though.

But there are some differences. The kids are better about stuff. They aren't giving me any flack when I turn off the TV. They're helping to prepare dinner and with the clean-up. They're brushing their teeth without being told. They snuggle in my king-sized until one of them falls asleep and kicks me in the crotch... then they all go to their own beds.

I'm tempted to conclude that I am a better mother when left to my own devices. It's too early to tell, but I remember being a lot happier. I'm patient with my kids, I'm very IMpatient with hubby. For the past week I haven't had the luxury of noticing what he IS or is NOT doing... I'm doing it all, and things are getting done the right way the first time. It's nice.

Tonight the kids and I prepared a French gourmet dinner that was so delicious... my kids even ate brussel sprouts without bargaining. By 7:00 the kitchen was clean again, eveyone's homework was finished and in their backpacks, and we were free to snuggle and watch "House" without any obligations weighing on our minds. It's nice. We reviewed math facts during the muted commercial breaks. The kids seem happier and they aren't bickering over stupid shit. They're LOVING toward each other. It's a little like the Twilight Zone!

But I'm still awake at 5:30 am. I decided at 4am that sleep was not an option, 'cause I'd never get my kids to school on time if I hit the sack now. I tried to go to sleep at 2am... lights off and everything. I laid here doing nothing for damned near two hours before I gave up. I'm not going to sleep tonight. Not an option. I'm not wired to get by on a few hours sleep... it's all or nothing.

Today I'm going to hit the thrift store and look for a dress to wear this weekend (anniversary plans that hubby made before we agreed he needs to leave). I hope I find something cute because I don't want to pay retail.

I'm going to give it a college try... and look tasty all the while. I just gotta figure out how I can be MY best and not fixate on every single fucking thing he does wrong. He has to give me less ammunition.

It still pisses me off , though. The health of the family seems to fall onto the woman no matter what. It's not fair. When he has a bad day at work, I ask, counsel, and entertain... I do whatever I can to put a smile back on his face. When I have a bad day at "work," I'm abandoned and overlooked. I'm not designed to be invisible.

I guess that's the suckiest part... feeling like nothing matters, and I have too much freedom to indulge in my "off" days because no one gives a fuck as long as they have at least one clean pair of underwear.

Tomorrow's going to be great though. I can already tell. I'll sleep while the kids are at school, and I have a great menu planned for tomorrow evening. The only ingredient I don't have on hand is CHERVIL. WTF is that? Will it ruin the dish if I omit it?

Thanks for listening!

Thanks to Jrae, CCW, Pregnant Amy, and fuck me running... Jazzy!!! How you been?? It's humbling that anyone out there in cyber-land gives a flying fuck about my life, especially when I'm not sure that I give a fuck!

JRae, I've never forgotten about your promise to loan me a couch if I ever visit your city. I haven't had the chance yet, but when I do? It'll be nice to have a friendly face, and a soft spot to lay at the day's end.

Now back to my story, set in the present tense.

The eggs were cleaned up the next morning. Aside from a cereal box, the whole kitchen was tidy the next morning. Hubby took the 9-yr-old to his football game. I didn't go. Not ready to hang with the in-laws at this point. Hubby's told them nothing, and I talk too fucking much... best to side-step the whole land-mine, lest I say something that cannot be retracted.

He took the boys for the night. He offered and I said "Yes... yes that would be fine." Wishing like hell that I had something interesting to do! I instead chose to descend upon my teen aged daughter and her friends. They endured me, bless their hearts. Her friends are nice... we played charades, a board game, and some Wii Fit.

My daughter's best friend had her boyfriend come over. I cock-blocked as long as I could, but I finally excused myself so they could have unsupervised sex in my basement. I don't KNOW that's what they did after I left, so let's pretend that they read books and talked about their feelings! It was late.

And now I'm focused on the whole teenager thing. I have forbidden my daughter from getting the HPV vaccination or getting on the pill because I was afraid she'd feel a false sense of security and be less diligent about condom use. My daughter swears she hasn't gone "all the way" but I'm not so uptight to realize that she could be lying just to ease my mind.

All the women in my family have been early bloomers. We're boot-knocking, mattress-shaking, head-board banging chicks. It's all good.

I told my daughter this morning that she's getting the vaccination. I was honest... I told her my prior decision was fear-based and erroneous. She maintained it wasn't necessary, and I didn't pry. I just don't think she should lose her ability to start a family if a condom fails and she becomes infected with a silent, preventable, cancer-causing virus.

I stand firm on "the pill" though. Birth control drugs carry too much risk and I don't advocate monkey-ing with hormones. I know a girl (it only takes one) who suffered a life-threatening blood clot in her spinal column that was attributed to years of birth control pills. She saw three doctors before someone took her complaints seriously. She didn't smoke, but she couldn't breathe... and she was under 35 years old. Her tubes are tied now and she's on blood-thinners... at 37! The docs tied her tubes because the medications she requires would guarantee a high-risk pregnancy with a small chance of viability.

Why am I still typing?

The One Week Mark

A week since the conversation... Saturday marks a week since he stole my duffle bag. Today was a visit, at least that's what he told me.

He came over about nine, said hello to the kids and then came upstairs to say hello to me. I felt like there was a stranger in MY bedroom. He said he wanted to visit the kids but didn't want me to feel ignored... it's was after 9pm when he arrived - by all means go talk to the kids! I said it dryly, without the exclamation point.

I went downstairs a few minutes later for a snack, and he was eating and making a mess. A half hour later he was sprawled on the couch and watching a movie. A hour after that he'd pulled the papasan chair mattress onto the floor and was laying on that.

At midnight, I was fed up, and went down to tell my son (who's 9) to brush his teeth and go to bed. "Sorry, it was my fault," offers hubby. I didn't respond. I don't mean to be cold... but I have nothing nice to say.

He came up with my son, ushered him toward his toothbrush.. and then came back into my room. He asked if he could sit down, and I asked him what his intentions were. "What do you mean?"

Well, here's what I fucking mean. I felt duped. A visit was not supposed to be an overnight stay. I don't want to see him in the morning. I don't want him here in the morning. I don't want to screw with the kids' heads and send mixed messages, and right now, the future ain't looking so bright.

He sat down to watch TV, which suddenly became less pleasurable for me. He fell asleep sitting up. Then he awoke and went downstairs... he did not turn off lights and check to make sure the doors were locked. My kids are more tuned in than he is.

Here's the thing... and feel FREE to tell me if I'm being too demanding.

When we split it was because he's a man of inaction - that was my main source of contention. I may do things that piss him of, too... but I'd never know it because he hasn't initiated a meaningful conversation since we've met. He even blew his proposal by handing me the closed box the day after my abortion (OUR abortion) saying, "you look sad today, maybe this will help."

When I asked him to move out and I told the ball was in his court. I was sick of feeling like this marriage is MY job. I've been solely responsible for it for 12 years... that's a lot of sit-down convos and bitten tongues. I made it clear that if he wanted to make it work, then he was going to have to figure it out without training wheels. He needed to put his distractions on a shelf and prove that he wants to make this work. Whatever it takes! I'll go to counseling, but I'm NOT making the fucking call. He has the non-negotiable schedule, he can make the call.

Furthermore, I told him that TIME, in and of itself, will not heal this. He can't just go away and then come back like nothing has changed... but that's exactly how he behaved tonight.

The biggest thing though... is that I just didn't feel it for him at all tonight. No part of my heart felt the pang of having missed his presence. I didn't find him attractive, helpful, or interesting. I was annoyed that he still seems so self-absorbed and clueless... and a little resentful that he felt free to leave my eggs out on the counter after whipping up a sandwich for himself.

He paid for the eggs. Every ounce of food in this house is his, actually. And I'm sure he just feels awkward and doesn't know what to say to me. I'm sure my demeanor is less than welcoming. But FUCK, man... I can't fake it. I don't mean to be a brick wall, but I can feign excitement, like "whoo-hoo - I'm so glad you're here!" That's why I stayed in my room... so he could hang with this kids and not have to see the indifference on my face. I don't want to hurt his feelings.

I think though, after tonight, that I need to tell him to cancel our anniversary reservations for next weekend. I'd rather spend the weekend raking leaves.

I'm scared to close this door, and I don't want to hurt his feelings... but I don't want to give false hope either. But I'm highly skeptical that I'm going to feel differently a week from now.

Ugh. Nothing about this is going to be easy. The kids haven't missed him yet, but they will if we call it quits for good.

Anyone? Bueller?

Slow Progress

Okay, I'm not making the progress I thought I would. Hubby is coming over tomorrow night after work, and I don't think either of us has done anything more substantial than "think" about shit. Yeah, that isn't going to bridge the gap! We ned to do some individual work if we ever want to be "good" together again.

One of my goals is to get out of this fucking house. My past job titles have been Administrative Assistant, Project Coordinator, Office Manager, etc. Payroll, scheduling, hiring, training... nothing too fancy, but I always good at my jobs. Very efficient.

But all my experience is a decade old. There are a million girls who can do what I can do. And they probably have more education. The companies I worked for don't even exist anymore. One of my references died of pancreatic cancer, and I can't locate the other one. As someone who used to hire people, I wouldn't hire me... because there's no verifiable evidence that a single word of my resume is true!

Good credit and a clean background is about all I have going for me right now, and that may change if I start turning tricks on Craigslist! Anyone need a kinky housewife with a penchant for inappropriate swearing? Didn't think so.

If I have to go back to school, a real estate license is the goal. Nothing makes me happier than negotiating houses. My mother says I'm crazy... given the current housing market. Her words might be just what I need. I perform very well when I'm underestimated.

If anyone else has a better idea, I'm all fucking ears.