Friday, November 30, 2007

Time For a Crazy Check

I have a friend who is going through the same kind of B.S. with her mom that I've had going on with my parents. And we were wondering if it's a generational thing, you know- crazy baby-boomers, or if it's an age thing and we're all going to act like that someday.

We have both decided that we would rather be strung up by our eyeballs than end up like our moms, so we've promised each other that if we see the other doing anything reminiscent of our bat-shit-crazy mothers, we are obligated to give each other a 'crazy check.'

I think this could work, don't you? I mean, wouldn't it get your attention if someone said to you, "um, you're starting to act like your mom..."


But mostly, I'm thinking it'll be time to end it if my daughter ends up with a 'crazy check' agreement with one of her friends.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007


I wish I didn't need to use my blog as a diary. I wish I didn't feel like the acid in my stomach is a volcano ready to erupt. I wish my parents were leaving when they originally said they were going to *&^%$# leave!

They delayed their flight by three days. That might not seem like much, but it's an eternity to me. I went over to their house today to pack up stuff that they've graciously decided to pawn off on me and my gut has been ready to explode ever since.

Is it wrong to wish for a big blow-up so I can tell my dad never to call me again? I actually wish for this too.

The drama right now is over the fact that my parents want to store a bunch of stuff in our garage. My husband is so mad he can't see straight. My dad lays this guilt trip on me that because we're "family" he shouldn't have to even feel bad about asking us to store his shit for him. WTF? I don't remember seeing a family rulebook that says it's okay to take advantage of your kids without guilt. Then my dad tells me that because he gave us this pinball machine that my husband wanted ....I could've paid for a years worth of storage for what I could have sold that for..... we should store his stuff for him. My husband is ready to go rent a truck and park the pinball machine in their driveway.

I don't blame him.

My parents have also said they want to spend the night with us right before they leave but I think that's going to be off the table. My husband has decided he will put them up in a hotel before that comes to pass and I think that's wise. I can just see my dad telling us, after he's already in the door, that he's postponed his flight again and they're going to spend Christmas with us.

I think not.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007


I'm as so stressed. I know I've been using my blog as a personal diary lately with TMI in virtually every post. But I'm sure you've been there before, haven't you? The stress you're dealing with is family related and you can't exactly call your mom and tell her what's going on when your mom is the problem. And my poor husband is just plain tired of hearing about it. And frankly, hearing his rants about my family don't exactly lift the stress right off of my shoulders either.

We're moving this week (Ya!) and that's actually not too bad. We have probably had the most hassle-free home purchase ever. This is so ironic considering the credit crunch that is going on right now. I guess the frugality that my husband and I live our lives by has finally paid off. We got the keys today and my dear hubby is currently painting his brains out. I would be over there helping him, but without babysitting there is no way I could take our 3-year-old demon child over there an expect to have a fingerprint-free paint job. Heck, I expect the boy would be covered in paint from head-to-toe in a matter in minutes-- right after my husband pulled all of his own hair out.

No, my stress is pretty much all related to my parents. Isn't that something? I'm moving during Thanksgiving week and that's nothing compared to dealing with my family. But you so know what I'm talking about don't you? You know you do. You're planning on having Thanksgiving dinner right now with relatives that drive you up the wall. Don't lie.

I've been living in terror for the last three weeks that my mom and dad were going to try to weasel their way into living with me. We bought a house that would be big enough to move them in, but there is no way in hell that I would ever, ever let that happen. My dad threw out a comment the first week that hey, there's room for all of us there! Your mom and I could go on hubby's insurance as dependants and I could pocket my social security money.

I think my exact response was oh shit!

My dad is one of those people who will say stuff like that to see how you'll react and if it's not a positive reaction, they'll try to pass it off as a joke. Riiiiiight. Just a joke. He wouldn't be joking if I said he could move in.

But I told my mom straight up that there was no way that I could live with my dad. Period. I've watched my dad wreck their finances for the last 5 years and I know for a fact he would take advantage of us and put us in the poor-house as well. No thank you. I may be a cold-hearted daughter, but I see no reason to bankrupt my family because my dad hadn't the financial sense not to rack up almost a million dollars in debt-- that he will completely default on.

What's really galling is that my dad wasn't some poor schmuck who earned minimum wage his whole life. No, he earned big bucks. He'd spend $30k a year on lavish vacations. They bought a stupid $10,000 marble statue of an angel that doesn't go with anything. My mom bought fur coats and we live in California. Need I say more?

Luckily, my parents have finally made arrangements to go to Thailand. They're flying out 3 days after we move. Thank God! But it's been a grind. My dad expects me to put my life on hold to help him with his stuff even though I'm moving! He calls me and says I need you to do me a favor and tells me that they're going to be spending the night at my house the day we move. Um, hello? Ever think about asking me if that was okay first? I put my foot down though and told him no way. I don't care that you have packed up your mattresses, where the heck do you think you're going to sleep at my house? On the boxes I haven't emptied yet? Jerk.

So then I tell my mom yesterday that I'm tired of them telling me what I need to do for them. If they want me to do them a favor, ask! Don't demand. My mom gets all patronizing when I get mad and says things like I know, we're all stressed, as if they're not actually doing anything wrong, I'm just stressed out. She did this to me too when I was planning my wedding--but that's an old gripe.

But I still laid down the law. I said I would help if I could. I would try to find a way to let them spend the night right before they left, but not the very day we move in. My mom tells me that my dad's feelings are hurt. Jeebus. My dad has never given a rat's ass about any one's feelings his whole life but now we need to worry about his delicate sensibilities. Sorry, that ship has sailed.

So I'm trying to hold strong. I'm trying to protect my family while managing to stay on speaking terms with my parents-- not easy. But if I have to go silent to keep my kids and my husband from harm, then I will. But I guarantee my parents are going to be nice to me. They won't have anyone else to stay with if they come back for a visit.

Monday, November 12, 2007

What It's All About

Jocelyn over at O Mighty Crisis (best blog name ever) put up this amazing post on her blog and I couldn't help but think, yeah, that's the way it's supposed to be.

I love my family dearly, but sometimes I wonder if I'm not a little relationship impaired. Somehow I found a man who thinks I'm normal and we've managed to hold it together for 12 years, and counting. But I think he's impaired in much the same way I am, which is a good thing. He has no other point of reference.

But, as I've said many times, my family is nuts. So how do you figure out how to function as a whole person when the tools you've been given are a bit lacking? In my case, I think I do owe a lot to a husband who fills in the gaps for me. (no I didn't say "he completes me...............") But he is the yin to my yang. He's all about the details and I'm the big picture person. He sweats the small stuff and I say "why worry?" He doesn't think I'm a freak for watching "Farscape" reruns and I don't belittle him for owning a David Cassidy record. Most of the time.

Jocelyn has inspired me to look back on my marriage and give thanks to the man who has been nuts enough to put up with my family for the last 12 years. Is there an award for that? There certainly should be.

I'm 3 years older than my husband and I think that has a lot to do with why we're still together. When we first met his 22-year-old self was quite in awe of my sophisticated 25-year-old self and he thought he was quite the stud to land the older woman. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I wasn't as impressive as he thought I was and just let it lie. I'm nice like that.

Despite the fact that I am older, we graduated college at the same time. (I'm a slacker-- though I did get a minor in Japanese and did overseas study that added to my time in college. At least, that's what I tell myself) So we were both on the hunt for "real" jobs at the same time. Honestly, I forget who landed one first, though he is still at his first post-college job while I had several. One job took me to L.A. I got a job as an Associate Producer for a syndicated TV show and couldn't pass the job up. I thought for sure my husband (then boyfriend) and I would break up. I'd had limited experience with long distance relationships and figured the relationship would fizzle out after a few weeks. We'd been together for a little over a year and I knew I loved him, but I had been disappointed before and prepared myself to be disappointed again. I told him we should break up.

Fortunately for me, my husband is not the kind of guy to take bad news lying down. He accepted what I said but didn't accept what it meant-- if that makes any sense. He helped my move my stuff to L.A. and get my apartment set up and I was impressed but not convinced that he was really going to hang around. O me of little faith.

For the next year, my husband-to-be flew down to see me EVERY weekend. Well, almost every weekend. I think he couldn't make it twice-- those times I flew up to see him. Is that dedication or what? It only took a few weeks for me to realize he wasn't going to just fade quietly into the sunset. This was a man who meant to hang around. Wow. Every girl should have a guy like that in her life.

After I was in L.A. for a few months he proposed to me and I knew I had to marry him. He was, and is, special. But more importantly, he thought I was special enough to fly down and see me every weekend no matter how expensive or inconvenient it was. I grew up in a family that sometimes forgot my birthday. I needed a man who could cherish me.

I won't say we haven't had rocky times. We have had some beauts. But the one thing that holds it together is that my husband never stops trying. There is really nothing he wouldn't do to hold our marriage, our life and our family together. He's not perfect-- and neither am I. But there is that link between us that makes me believe that soul mates exist. He finishes my sentences and knows what I am thinking before I do. He is in a word, irreplaceable.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Oh Dear God! Why??!!!

So I'm cruising the net today. Normal stuff. And somehow I come across a mention of a YouTube video called "2 girls 1 cup." (I got the name wrong when I put this post up, but I was too shaken to go back and find the video to verify its name)

Do not watch it ever. Never. I can not stress this enough.

I want to take an SOS pad to my brain and scrub. I wish I lived in the world of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind."

I want to hurl.

If you have never heard of it, it involves two women eating feces. I wish I had never watched it.

I feel dirty.

*shudder* *shudder* *shudder* *shudder* *shudder*