Some Wednesday Observations

How are you?  Me, I'm okay.  I've decided that this world is a little too harsh for me, though, and if I could I would crawl into an escape pod and jettison off to some other, more peaceful, planet.  A planet where kids don't get cancer, where creepy mother-effers don't destroy children's innocence, where men who are true and good fathers and husbands don't die.  Is that too tall an order?  I guess so.  As one of my lifelong friends said last night, and she is a woman who has faced one of the blackest maelstroms a woman can face...she listened to me plead with the universe to STOP THE SADNESS and when I was done she simply said:

"That's life, Jenny." 

Truer words were never spoken.  But I still think life needs to be a bit kinder and a bit gentler for a while.  A  girl can dream, right?

So here are some things I'm thinking about to try and take my naive little mind off of the darker stuff:

1.  Please tell me you've seen the movie "Almost Famous"?  I try to watch it once a year or so.  If for no other reason, it's fun to see sexy Scientologist Jason Lee looking all dirty, flea infested 70's rocker.  Here's my favorite scene:

2.  Still waiting to see what the judge from my child support hearing has decided.  We went to court on October 29th, and Aladdin, my attorney, said it would be a "couple of weeks".  It's going on three months now and to be honest, I'm getting kind of antsy.  Aladdin says "don't worry, no matter what the news is it'll be good" but I keep having visions of my icky ex sitting there in his ugly tweed jacket (yes, a tweed jacket complete with elbow patches...the a-hole left his $1,000 dollar suits at home that day) next to his harsh lady attorney who looked and dressed exactly like Jill Eikenberry on L.A. Law.  And how Jill Eikenberry had the stones to look at me and say I'm purposefully under-employed and how my kids are all old enough to raise themselves while I go out and work 4 part-time jobs. You know what?  Suck it, Jill. You and your pathetic client can take your burgundy ruffled blouse and his "look at how poor I am" assistant-professor tweed coat and suck it.  Hard. 

How do you sleep at night, Jill Eikenberry?

3.  Speaking of the poor bastard, I'd really love it if he would ask his wife for access to his balls once in a while.  Like Tuesday and Thursday nights, for instance.  I have started a new part-time job (for the record, Jill Eikenberry, my FOURTH job) and now I'm working until 5:30 every week night.  For the first time, ever.  At first I was hesitant to take it simply because my kids have never come home to an empty house...or if they did, I was always just behind them in getting home. But now, it's about 5:45 before I walk in the door.  And that has taken some getting used to.  I was kind of hoping that Tuesdays and Thursdays would be a little easier, what with those being "Dad's Night" and all.  The two older kids don't go over there anymore but Henry and William still go once in a while.  Until now. They seem to be taking advantage of their mom-free time and using it to come up with excuses as to why they can't go with Big Daddy. Their favorite one is "I have a lot of homework".  Now, here's the deal:  Of course I don't mind seeing my kids when I get home. I love them.  It's just that every once in a while, a break is nice.  Like last night:  a friend of mine lost her husband yesterday morning. Not like she lost him at the mall, her husband DIED. I went to her house to help out, to give her company and love and support.  But what to my wondering eyes did appear?  Two boys who skipped going to their dad's house. One who kept bugging me to come home and make him mac and cheese, and the other one who had decided to go home with friends and started calling me every two minutes for a ride home.

This is exactly what "co-parenting" is not supposed to be like.  These are the nights that Big Daddy needs to extract his testicles from the jar Secretary has them in and tell these boys that THEY ARE GOING TO SPEND THREE HOURS WITH HIM.  I don't care if he comes up to the door, and demands that they come with him. I don't care if he yells at them or acts in a forcible manner or threatens or cajoles them.  Last night I needed to be with a friend and he needed to be a parent.  I ended up doing both, and you know who paid the price?  Me. I was tired and pissed and resentful, and that's not fair. Time to nut up, Big Daddy.

And now I'm done with all things scrotal.

4.  So while I recovered from the Plague, I decided, "Hey, this would be a great time to become hooked on a long-cancelled t.v. show." And thus began my relationship with "The West Wing" on Netflix. Where was I when this show was on? Oh yeah, I was giving birth to my fourth child and also gearing up to battle the office skank in the reality show "Who Will Get Big Daddy" (spoiler alert: skank wins).  But back to me and my new obsession: I love this show.  I am hopelessly in love with everyone on it, from Martin Sheen to Bradley Whitford to Allison Janey and even to Good Times dad John Amos (it's DYNO-MITE!).  I'm 28 episodes in and so far I'm still smitten.  Already looking forward to the cold snap this weekend (a high temp of 4 below zero?) so I will have some guilt-free couch time.

5.  Hey Jenny, why haven't you posted anything about Weight Watchers lately?

Hey, why don't you mind your own business.  And no, you most certainly do not smell sweet potato tater tots.  Okay, truth is I have once again fallen off a wagon (insert big sarcastic "NOOOO!" here).  I have gained 7 pounds back and I have to say, this is like watching a car accident in slow motion.  I had to cancel my Weight Watchers membership after I found myself perusing the canned goods at the local food shelf in December.  I decided that $46 a month is something that should be spent on oh I don't know....food for my kids rather than a way for me to try and rein in my food issues.  Someone who just had her closest paycheck-to-paycheck dance ever (managed to make it to the 15th with $2.48 to spare!) certainly has no rational reason to be on Weight Watchers. Looks like I have to take what I've learned and decide to either apply it or shut up about it.

And by the by..funny how the mind works. I weighed myself and saw that I gained 7 pounds. I said to myself, "Self, it's only seven pounds.  That's not so bad."  Not so bad?  I'm having trouble buttoning my jeans and my bras are suddenly very tight and not providing the coverage I'd become accustomed to (meaning my boobs are literally POURING out of them, giving me that awesome "quad boob look" that's so hot).  So I had to turn to my best friend, Google, and found this picture:

 

Yeah.  Seven of these makes a difference.  *sighs while tucking breasts back into bra*   To say I'm disappointed in myself is an understatement.  To say I'm not surprised is sad. 

And on that chipper note, I'm off.  I hope you are well.  Please hug those you love, today and every day.  Be a good friend, a good parent and a good person...when we're gone, people aren't going to remember what we wore, or how many cute purses we had or what we drove or what we lived in.  They're going to remember who we were, how we chose to dole out our love and our hate.  Choose wisely.