With a little help from my friends

Okay, I’ve tried to resist the urge but I just can’t do it any longer. I’ve always been a “real” kind of person but methinks I need to go  Dr. Phil and get it out of my system once and for all.  This is supposed to be a positive, get-to-know-me type of blog so I can discuss what’s currently on my mind or hopes and dreams or…whatever. But increasingly, I find the need to “blow up” my blog and tell you what’s going on down deep, sans candy coating. That’s just not my style.

For starters, it’s extremely frustrating being stuck at home with no car and no money.  The van is jacked up, the SUV is jacked up,  I can’t depend on my mother in law’s vehicle to take me back and forth because it’s 26 yrs. old and a gas guzzler…who has money for that these days? And the ex? His mom bought a $300 Buick for him (she says for her) to get to work and though it runs okay, it looks like a science experiment gone awry. Mind you, I’m not knocking her for buying it. She’s been pretty darn good to me over the years and I understand what a unique position she’s in. I’m just ready to fly the coop and be on my own for the first time.

What could be so bad? The home I live in is an old double-wide that was built in 1987 and the previous owners did squadoosh to take care of it. My mother in law has had to replace rotting floor (pressboard, to be exact) in 5 different places in the house, not to mention putting odd pieces of 3/4″ plywood over the crater holes in my ex’s room so he doesn’t fall through the floor. (No, I’m not kidding) There’s a big rift in the wall directly behind my head where my bed is and I’ve covered it with an India-inspired curtain to match the so called “theme” in my room. When it rains, I can smell mold, though I don’t think it’s the dangerous kind. This place is so old the eaves of the house have rotted a bit and I think that has caused rain to get in between the walls or something. At times, I have to wear a mask when I sleep so I don’t wake up with a raging sinus headache. I look like I have a mini feedbag strapped to my face and feel totally stupid but that’s how it g-o when you have underdeveloped sinuses, like me. (which is why I have a steady supply of Coca Cola on hand, for the caffeine…and because it tastes good!)

That’s just a few issues but to list other reasons, I’d like to do what I call a “run-on”. You know when you’re talking to someone and one thing reminds you of something else and then you toss out a quick snippet of a thought, only to have that thought “run-on” into something else? Well I have a tendency to do that and the only people who can follow me in those conversations are my BFF’s. I have three very close friends who I love dearly and somehow, they tolerate my run-ons, bless their heart.  And here they are…

  

            Kat                               Brandie                      Gleeby

These are the three ladies who know everything about me…and like me anyway. Isn’t that what a BFF is? I’ve worked with all three and known them all for a number of years. They’ve heard me piss and moan about every little thing going on in my life, good, bad or indifferent. Without them, I don’t know how I’d stay sane.

While I don’t mind living here too much, I hate that it’s falling apart. I also hate the fact that I’ve paid half the mortgage the past 5 years and won’t see any of that equity because the house isn’t in my name. It’s in my mother in law’s name and in retrospect, that’s a good idea. I mostly hate the fact that her son (my ex) sits in his room broadcasting over the internet and can’t be arsed (as my UK buddies would say) to un-ass his bed long enough to make his own damn breakfast or fix his own damn plate at dinner (she does it for him if he’s “on air”). While I think he’s okay at his “DJ” gig, it’s gonna be a hard row to hoe if he wants to get paid for doing that. Meanwhile, his regular job is a server at a local restaurant, most days not making jack squat in the way of tips. That translates to not being able to offer his mother a great deal of cash to help cover the cost of food and other things. Oh…yeah…I almost forgot the crap $2.13 per hour servers are paid because they make so much money in tips. (not!) He has that goin’ for him too.

I hate the fact that a 46 yr. old man lets his 73 yr. old mother change his bedsheets, even though it wears her out. To be fair, he told her to stop but we all know that if it doesn’t get done right away, mom comes to our rescue. I did it a few days ago but I told him that was a one time deal and from now on, HE needs to do it. After all, how would he feel if his mom had a heart attack making his bed because he’s too freakin’ busy “broadcasting” to do it? Dollars to donuts he lets her do it next time. She and I get on each other’s nerves at times but I love her to bits and I’m pretty sure she feels the same.

I can’t stand that my almost-18 yr. old son’s room looks like a tornado ripped through it and he won’t even bother to take the dirty dishes out so his grandmother won’t be on his ass like a dirty diaper. Does he listen? Of course not! So it all blew up today and I told him to just shut his cakehole, do as she asks and in a few months when he’s 18, he can go take that job in the great tree-less wasteland in west Texas. It pays very well and with all that money, he wants to get us out of this place. Honorable but we’ll see. Things change quickly in life, que no? Incidentally, I’m not EVEN going to petition a divorce until after my son is 18. The state would force child support and if the ex can’t afford to help with bills properly, he sure as hell can’t pay child support. I wouldn’t take it anyway. He didn’t contribute too much to being a present and attentive father all this time, why would I expect any responsibility now?

Before I go on, let me just say that he and I are friends and that won’t change. But that doesn’t mean I agree with his complacency regarding his mother or condone his seeming lack of ambition. I feel guilty even saying that because if he really could be paid for broadcasting over the internet, that would be wonderful. But I think the fact that he has LOADS of female admirers who listen is a good reason for him to want to continue. I could be talking out my butt too, who knows? I just don’t need the amount of attention he does. Even his mother told me he’s always been needy. Yeah, I kinda did a wh-wh-what? too.

To put this into a more accurate perspective, I still pay more bills with unemployment benefits than he does with a regular job. Yet when our son bums a cigarette from him (yes, I let my 17 yr. old smoke; I’d rather he do it in front of me than lie and do it behind my back) or asks for a fiver or a tenner, he says “he needs to go get a job!” Alllllllrighty then…will YOU be the one paying for the car repair so he has transpo to get there? Or will you and your mom be giving him a ride? Neither of those would happen, just so you know. *sigh* Wait til y’all read the autobiography when it’s done. There’s soooooo much more than I’m telling you here. Suffice it to say that I’m ready to move on and see what I can do on my own. Well, me and my son but you know what I mean.

Sadly, when I do leave here, I’ll be leaving my sweet little Sassy-girl here with her buddyRoadie. I can’t break up the dogs because they’ve been together too long and they need each other. Those little hairy babies have gotten me through a lot of crap and when I feel an anxiety attack coming on, they only have to be near me to calm me down and get me over it. I love those monkeyheads!! 

 

                Sassy                                             Roadie

If anyone has read this post in its entirety, you deserve a round of applause for your patience. I’d like to apologize for my little grouse-fest but if I do, that would mean I’m sorry for being honest and being me. No can do. Gotta be me, warts and all. This is how I work through my frustration and you, the public just happen to be innocent bystanders while I careen through mi vida loca. To summarize all the above: I’m tired of paying for shit the ex should have been helping me with and I’m tired of feeling obligated to help his mother cover the mortgage after I leave. That should be HIS responsibilty. Kids are supposed to help the parents later in life, not the other way around.  I’m just plain tired of him being waited on, not contributing, and for not realizing how good he has it.  *insert perturbed expression here* I can tell you one thing though, I’ll do right by her and make sure she has what she needs if I’m able. ‘Cause the ex will keep spinning his wheels in the mud and depending upon his mother to take care of him, just as sure as God made little green apples.  I wish him well in his endeavors and hope he finds whatever it is he’s looking for…it sure as hell won’t be with me. Until next time…

  & hair grease, y’all!!

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Kathie
    Mar 18, 2011 @ 15:13:25

    Kiddo, trust me. This will pass. I am not trying to diminish what you are feeling. You deserve your gripe session – not just because it’s your blog, but honestly, you have a lot of legitimate things to gripe about. But I know you – I’ve known you for a long time, and you WILL figure this out. YOU WILL. If I was a bettin’ woman, I’d bet that you’ve got lots of ramblin’ and scramblin’ going on in that pretty head of yours and you’re just biding your time, trying to figure out which solution you’re going to try first.

    My advice? Make a move as soon as Junior moves on his merry way. You have done for other far too long! It’s time to do for YOU now. Love ya –
    Kathie

    Reply

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