Khalid Sheikh Mohammed and Daniel Pearl

I just finished watching A Mighty Heart. This is the film accounting the life and death of Wall Street Journalist Daniel Pearl. It was horrifying and emotional.  I did not realize how affected I would become by this film.

The ending indicated that the person responsible for his actual beheading was Khalid Sheikh Mohammed. It also stated that he is currenting residing at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. I did some research and found this to be true.

This is what really has me scared for our country:

Our government wants to close Gitmo. We are talking about terrorists. They are in Gitmo for a reason…they are the worst or the worst. Charles Manson and Ted Bundy were not sent there. They chose their victims. Terrorists have absolutely zero sanctity for human life. They don’t care who you are, what you do or if you’re a child…they just kill. That’s why they are in fucking Cuba! Where are all these assholes going to go?

Everyone so easily forgets the innocent people who were so brutally murdered by these terrorists…and people are crying about waterboarding them? If waterboarding a terrorist will provide vital information to stop future attacks…then let it be done. Terrorists are trained to sustain a huge amount of torture. Why? Because they know exactly what they would do to someone in their captivity and assume the same may be done to them if captured. Don’t even think for one minute that people held by these terrorists are treated with any regard for humanity. Torture is their masterpiece….and they have painted with the blood of innocent people…like Daniel Pearl.

Right now, I am ashamed of what a pussy America is becoming. A once feared power and force to reckoned with is now turning into a society of pacifists that would rather be known for 3 hots and a cot than getting down to the business of keeping our country safe.

I did not like much of anything that George W. Bush had done in his eight years as president. Buy I will give him the utmost respect for keeping me, my family and The United States of America safe after 9/11.

What the hell has gone so wrong so very fast?

http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1545441,00.html

http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2009/04/28/despite-reports-khalid-sheikh-mohammed-waterboarded-times/

http://dir.salon.com/story/opinion/feature/2003/10/22/pearl/index1.html

The Reality of It All….

It finally happened. I saw them both. We were all in the store. It was just a coincidence, happenstance….or are there no coincidences? I followed them around the store while my father longingly looked back as his unsympathetic wife walked faster and faster. It was as if he were trying to stop, but couldn’t. I could tell by the look on his face. It was ….”I’m sorry”….”I love you”…..”I have no choice.” She was cruel but her crocodile tears were starting. They always came….she was a professional. She could have won an Oscar so many times over the past 30 or so years…it was a true hidden talent….but I knew that’s all it was…a talent, acting…not real tears. Maybe this time she was genuinely scared. Scared of my wrath, as the anger was growing on my face. Scared of my letting the truth out, calling her out on her lies and manipulations. But I saw the slight grin surface a few times around each corner. She knew what she was doing and didn’t care. What made me sad…more than anything was that my father was going along with it all. Dodging me, pretending to ignore every time I yelled to him…asking him….”Please, please stop!…I need to talk to you! I have to talk to you!” I started to cry….the kind of cry that is almost inconsolable. Sobbing, my chest heaving with every breath and step I took.

It was as if I were in slow motion. I was trying to catch up so desperately, but there were people everywhere. The store was so busy and flooded with potential consumers that just seemed determined to block my every move. I finally caught up to them. I didn’t say a word at first. I just stared at my father for a minute that seemed like a lifetime. The type of stare that buckles your knees and says everything without uttering a word. I was puzzled, dumbfounded, hurt, shocked, visibly upset…but only slightly angry. My chest hurt so badly. I was squeezing as if I were in a vice. It seemed impossible to speak, but I finally could.

“Why are you doing this.”, I sobbed to him. “I just don’t understand. Just what am I supposed to say to Jakob”. I started to yell. “He is only eight years old…a little boy…he doesn’t know what he did “wrong”.” I was now spewing at him.

He had no defense. He knew he was wrong. He had hardly spoke to me in the last year and a half and had called Jake about ten times. His wife, who Jake had called Mom-Mom at one time, had not spoken to him in over two years. No phone calls, letters, holiday or birthday gifts that she picked out. He only received what my father picked out and signed her name to the card.

“Jake has done nothing!”, I screamed. “He is so innocent and good-hearted. He is kind and wants to know why “Mom-Mom” doesn’t care about him any more. He wants to know why everyone he has known for the past seven years has disappeared out of his life. He wants to know what he did “wrong.” I finally screamed at both of them.

She was “crying”…. A meek, simple sob that would absolutely be figured out by the majority of strangers and most family members. I knew it so well. My father was always reeled in., but he was different this time. He seemed to know that she was the reason, but he had no choice. He kept stumbling over every word. He couldn’t complete a sentence. He was crying now too. I have seen my father cry a few times, but not like this. He was truly sorry, empathic….with a look on his face that said everything. He was helpless. He was a pussy.

“We can’t trust you. We never could. You have always caused problems for your father and I will not see him hurt any longer. I am done with all of your bullshit for all of these years.”, she spit at me. Her eyes were dark with nothing behind them. I had heard this speech so many times before. It was ridiculous. I could not have possible been that bad for thirty years.

“What does that have to do with my son!” I screamed into her face. I was up close to her, intimidating and angry. I always knew deep down she was scared of me. Scared that eventually my father would finally listen to me. That he would would hear how she treated my sisters and I over the years. I was never afraid of her. I never backed down from a fight with her. I called her out on every evil, manipulative move she made. She had said to me so many times over the years….”I will deny everything I say to you, so don’t bother saying anything to anyone because they will never believe you.” She was right….they never did.

I was pleading with my dad…..”Daddy, please…why are you doing this to Jake?….I don’t want you to hate me, but it doesn’t matter if it means you’ll stop what you are doing to him. Jake is so sad some days. I don’t know what to say. I am sick of lying….telling him that you and her are so busy…that you work so much, even though you are supposed to be retired. I am tired of having my son think your wife is a good person when she absolutely is not!”

“I don’t understand.” I said as more and more tears were streamed down my face. All three of us were unaware of anyone else in the store. The people all seemed to go about their business in slow motion. They were all a blurry haze of everyday life passing me by. My father didn’t seem to care either. Normally he would avoid any public display of this sort. His wife kept looking around…as if anyone really could give a shit. They had lives to lead, bills to pay, grocery lists to fill. She was always putting up a front. No, no…nothing is wrong in my life…I have the perfect life…a huge home, a rich husband…and I was able to turn him against his three daughters…it was so easy.

What kind of man lets that happen? What kind of woman lets a man choose her over his children?….But we are talking about her. She hates kids. She hated us as kids. Now as adults, she saw no reason to find any possible imperfection or nuisance to make my father’s life so miserable that he was willing to ignore his daughters. At that very moment… I didn’t care what he was doing to me. I was protecting my son. I was standing up for my child who loved unconditionally and didn’t understand what he could have done that was so awful that his own grandfather hardly spoke to him…..that his so-called Mom-Mom hadn’t talked to him in over two years and hadn’t step foot into our home in over three years in Pennsylvania before we moved to Florida.

My father just kept sputtering…trying to catch the right words. There was an obvious look of  “I am so sorry for all I have put you through over these years. I wish I could change it all. I wish I had a relationship with you”. It was everything I ever wanted to hear, but it wasn’t why I was so angry….Jake…why would he torture a poor little boy that he used to take almost very weekend to fly in one of his planes. Jake loved it so much. He would tell everyone he could…”My Pap-Pap is a pilot. He has his own planes and lets me fly them all the time. I know how to fly a plane.” He was so proud…so sincere….it broke my heart.

It ended almost as quickly as it started. We were being pulled apart by her. My arm was out stretched….with so much pain on my face. He had the same look of pain. He kept asking me, “Do you need anything? Does Jake need anything? I’ll give you whatever you need! If you need any help. please let me know!”

I yelled… “No. …I don’t need or want that kind of help! I don’t need your money….I need for you to be a grandfather to my son! Don’t do to him what you did to me! He doesn’t deserve it! He did nothing wrong!”. Tears were flowing so much that I could see any longer. She was pulling him father away. I was screaming at him.

“Call Jakob!..Call your grandson! He doesn’t understand! He just a little boy you bastard!” It was my final good-bye as she whisked him far out of my reach. I was sobbing so heavily. I didn’t answer the people…strangers asking me if I were all right. My mind was boggled and nothing was resolved….as always.  I had a glimmer of hope that everything was going to go back like it used to be… but  it was gone as quickly as it came.

The sobs kept coming. I couldn’t control it…I was inconsolable. I hurt so badly for my child…..Jake loved him and her so very much…..I had never felt such pain and controllable grief…it was a loss greater than any death I had ever experienced….because it was a chosen loss…. by my father.

I woke up grasping my chest, tears streaming down my already soaked face. I was crying during the whole dream. I still could not control it. Jake was sleeping next to me. I hugged him so hard, but not enough to wake him. I love him so much…..everyone always tells people that you will never know such a love until you have children….I never believed it until I had Jake. I would die and kill for him. Everything was so fresh and real. I was there. My dad was there. She was there. It really happened….it couldn’t end like this? Why was it all a dream!!! Why was my son going to still question himself and what he did wrong to have this all happen to him.  I was still crying, but starting to become angry.

I got up and went to the bathroom. I washed my face off and brushed my teeth. The clock said 1:46 AM. I cried the whole time.

It’s 2:58 AM now. I am done with the dream, but I am still sobbing uncontrollably. I had to wipe my eyes so many times just to see the screen. My chest doesn’t hurt any longer. I am starting to calm down. Jakob had a sleep over with his cousin, Skylar. She keeps waking up and moving around, but I think she is still sleeping. The computer is right next to where she is sleeping. I am going to check on her.

I just can’t believe it is over. It was so real. It still seems within my grasp….like maybe when I fall back asleep I could pick up where I left off…but that never happens in my dreams no matter how hard I try.

I guess no matter how much I say that I am OK, I am still not over all the hurt from my father. Maybe I will call a therapist in the morning.

Devil May Care….

I despise all of the social websites being used as a platform for airing out ones feelings when they don’t have the balls to confront the someone in person or by phone.

Since my last blog, my family drama has increased. It seems a certain someone did not like what I had to say and proceeded to post her attitude all over Facebook.  This act also allows one to drift completely off topic into issues that were not even an issue to begin with. So, if my family member wants to use the web as her platform instead of talking like an adult….I see no reason why she shouldn’t get what she wants. Who am I to deny her that right…..

Her reply in reference to my last post concerning a truly stupid issue:

“I dont owe you knowthing! I just qoited what my brother stated to me that early morning!  Oh and you call  the land lady right back afiter i called you  was mature !  Amy was standing right next to me! Its is all good we took care of it !I am over it! Oh and I am truly glade you had time to check on your niece though ! I am greatful my brother did ! He made time for her while no one other than my mother and eddie and teddie and justins family !Oh and from what I hurd for other sorces you brought  a little of it on your self with the house and not all that you say was true ! I dont care if you dont like were you lived !From what I see it seemds like you never wanted to be there in the first place! Let alone in florida ! From the whole time you lived there you not onece came over just to visit us only when you need something or if it was a birthday or hoilday! So yes I see its all about alex! I dont care ! I am me and we help you guys out when need and only greatfulness was my brother!”

Which was promptly followed up with this:

“Alex I truly hope your happy maybe you will stop bitching so much and finally be happy! That what was truly on my mind begreatful for what you have and not what you dont have!!!!!!!!!! Have a god day! I am done with this topic and drama! ;0) Please kiss the kids for me!”

Spelling and grammar not corrected…that’s exactly what I was supposed to decipher…..and that is a lot of exclamation points. Do you think she wanted to emphasize something?

Men would never dream of doing something like this. They hash it out quickly and it’s over. Women, on the other hand, have the wonderful tendency to drag their bones of contention on for days, weeks, months and use emails, letters, social networking sites and the web as tools for their annoyances. I am just as guilty, just not as angry.

My question is this: Why do we, as women, let tiny words on a web page get to us so badly? They are just typed words, right? Or is it that we don’t like everyone else we know on that social networking site to know our dirty laundry? Why does one simple sentence require a litany of words just spitting back at you to make a point? It all seems awfully desperate and angry, yet not enough to have a real conversation.

I, myself, could care less who knows what about me, as long as it’s the whole story and the complete truth. Others just like to throw out whatever they have just to try and hit a nerve. Whatever the reasoning one has for not sucking it up, acting like an adult and picking up the phone instead of hiding behind a computer…I’ll never know.

I haven’t had much inspiration lately for writing, but I have also been moving and under a lot of stress….or maybe I just needed a little aggravation?

I am right here, Angie, when you want to apologize for all of the lies and nasty things you have posted about me. You had the floor and now you need to act like an adult.

But, like you said, “I dont owe you knowthing!”.

Stranger Than Fiction

My family and I just moved. We moved from a private duplex that came with an assortment of all kinds of problems (SEE POST “If Momma Ain’t Happy….Ain’t Nobody Happy”) to an absolutely wonderful apartment complex. The place is HUGE! My oldest son, Jake, loves his new room and the fact that he has his own bathroom. There’s a pool, tennis courts, workout room (not that I will be using it or anything), car care center….everything I could ever want. And it’s cheaper than the old duplex.

If you read my previous blog mentioned above, you know why I couldn’t stand it there any longer. While I was moving, many people came up to me asking about the place, as there was a “For Rent” sign in front of it. I told them the truth. There were pros and cons.

No credit check….great for everyone hit hard by this economy. No background check…great for all you criminals out there….not so great for the law abiding part of society. Low deposit…pro. Cheap place that is large…pro. Landlord lives out of state….pro and con. First $200 of repairs is tenant’s responsibility….con. Late fees were astronomical…con. Landlord was understanding at times of financial hardship…pro.

I could list much, much more, but it’s none of these factors trump the neighbors. The people and their children that live in these duplexes are crazy….and I mean calling the police, guns being shot off, domestic violence, stealing my cable and the alcoholic that thought that my duplex was his one night and passed out on my front lawn crazy. You just can’t make this shit up.

So, my sister-in-law decided to “help” a friend of hers by recommending that she take the place, as she and her children have to leave her abusive husband. I tried to explain to my sister-in-law that this was no place for children. I had always told her all of the bullshit that happened at this place, but she just explained that she never really heard of anything bad happening over “here”. WTF? Did she not hear me? Was I speaking a foreign language? If she was such a wonderful friend, why not offer her to stay in her five bedroom three bath house? Sure, my sister-in-law is married with five kids, but who wouldn’t do that for a woman being abused and threatened by their husband?

A few nights ago I received a call from my sister-in-law (let’s call her Angie for now). She was very angry that her friend called to see our old place and the crazy bitch that lives in one of the duplexes (she shows the places for the landlord) said that the landlord didn’t want to rent to anyone that knew my husband and I because we never paid the rent on time and owed over two months rent. Yea. Not true…we were only breaking the lease.

I have never even met this woman who needed a place so badly. Ted, my husband, told Angie not to let her friend use us as a reference, as we were breaking the lease, for the obvious reasons. So, Angie said this to me on the phone: “Now Teddy fucked it up for my friend.” Oh no. She did not just say that. I said what I needed to say about her comment about my husband and that was it. Ted immediately called her and said the same. Done.

The friend got the place. She started moving in yesterday. If Angie was a true friend, she would have told her about all of the bullshit that goes on. But no….instead I see this on Facebook:

“…Is very happy that i could help a friend and her girls out of a life threating situation! They are blessed for the new home they have and they reminded me and all the others how greatful it is to have a roof over your head and away from danger ! I am so truly happy that those girls are safe and happy now! God bless to them and mt god help you in your future journeys! Love Lots”

AND….”Is loving life and we are truly happy and greatful for what we have! we are also very blessed and greatful for what we have and dont take it for granet for what we dont have ! If its not the greatest place to live -be greatful you have roof over your head! If you dont like the food on your table be greatful you have food!”

Great. I copied and pasted both of these paragraphs, so that is exactly her grammar and hers alone. It just really pissed me off. Maybe I am reading too much into it. Maybe I am using Facebook like MySpace…a childish game directed at individual people who want to say things to but just don’t have the balls to say it to their face.

Maybe it’s exactly what I think. Angie is a self-righteous hypocrite who doesn’t care what she says to anyone and her pride is much more important than any family member or friendship. I wrote back to her requesting an apology for her remark about Ted to me and him….I doubt I’ll get one.

My question is this…..Why do adults feel the need to act like children these days? Is it because they feel age creeping up upon them and want so desperately to be young again? Do they want to be “cool ” for their kids?

This may seem like a small family squabble, but it is the culmination of so many remarks by Angie that has reached it’s breaking point.

Or maybe I have reached my breaking point.

Potentially Explosive

I write everyday. On line, in journals, on napkins…anywhere I can. It has always come so easily, naturally…effortlessly. I have never been someone who was at a loss for words. I have always been the one with the quick comeback, funny joke….cute little quip. Right now…..I’ve got nothing.

I have so much to write about. My mind is full of so many things that need to get out that I am just overloaded. It’s not writer’s block…it’s  anti-writer’s block. I don’t know where to start. I don’t even want to start most days. It’s like I know my mind is going faster than my fingers can type or write. I know it will be a nightmare to try writing, so I don’t even start. My head literally hurts. I know it can be potentially explosive.

But, I have been sick for a couple of days, so I have had time to think, sleep, puke and relax.

I have written about my family in past blogs….about their choices and mine…how I now know where I stand (or fall for that matter).  After two weeks of unanswered phone calls, I finally got in touch with my grandmother on her cell phone at “the home”. She sounded so defeated, broken….just not the woman I knew before. I know she is going to 89, but ones life circumstances changes a person…and I don’t believe that she is happy…no matter what I am told.

Anyway, she said my father was having some tests for his heart….that he “wasn’t feeling well again”….her words. Last year he had the same issues and was tested for heart problems. He claimed to be fine, but I don’t think he would really tell me if he were not. So, I wrote him an email asking if he was OK. I can’t call him, as he is only allowed to speak freely when alone…without the presence of his wife. I am waiting to hear back from him.

This is what bothers me. No matter how my family feels about me, why am I not privy to any information on anyone’s health or well being? I sometimes think that some one will be dead and buried before I am informed, just because of the grudges that are being held. It has been over 18 months and no one has budged. I can’t imagine how this is still happening, as it took my mother’s death to bring my family back together at one point almost nine years ago. I can say all day long that I have to move on, let it go….they have seemingly got on with their lives, what is holding me back?

It hurts. It is a completely devestating feeling to have so many individuals in your life…and your child’s life….for almost a decade and then…..gone. It is like a death….there is mourning, anger, regret….all of the same feelings as a death. So, I guess I am to assume that when any one of the members of my family are to pass during this silent treatment, that I have no more emotion to feel?

Have I done it all already?

Everyone’s family is dysfunctional in one way or another. No one has the perfect set up. But when dysfunction turns into total alienation it is a completely different feeling.

I sent an email to the most important members of my family last Friday. I told them I loved and missed them.  I said I wanted to say it while I still could…while there was still time…before it was too late. I said I didn’t expect anything…I just wanted them to know.

I received no response from two of them, one sent an Obama joke and the other a TMZ video.

This brings dysfunction to a whole new level.

Call me….Crazy.

I truly believe that we are an extremely adaptable species. When faced with unavoidable adversity, we rise to the occasion and are capable of much more than we would have ever realized. We, as human beings, are quite good on doing without the material things that we used to think we needed at one point….most people at least.

I have been without a vehicle since January 12, 2009. It wasn’t an easy decision to make….getting rid of my SUV because of financial reasons…but it was necessary. My husband and I went over the math and it just didn’t add up at that time. Since then, I have been essentially trapped inside the house for these past months.

When I had a car, I really never went many places. Doctor’s appointments, grocery store, Jake’s (my 8 year old ) school….things like that. I never thought about it. I would stay at home for a week or more and not go anywhere and not think twice about it. But, without a car, it is a completely different story. I felt trapped. We live in a very rural area of Florida, so there is not even bus or taxi service out here. I was sad, mad, furious at times, depressed…the list goes on according to the different day and mood I was in. I am a very independent person. I do not like to ask for help unless I absolutely have to. I hated asking for rides to the doctor for the kids. Jake was sick at school once and I had to ask my sister-in-law to go get him. She is always more than happy to do it and it was no problem to get him, but the feeling of dependence and helplessness is a horrible feeling for me. That’s the word I was looking for….helplessness.

Helplessness is a feeling unavoidable at times and so very difficult for me. I am a control freak, so I do not do well with this area. I wouldn’t think that most people would either. It’s depressing and somewhat degrading to be at the mercy of others. My sister-in-law only lives but a few houses over, but I just don’t like to ask anyone for help with anything. I like to get things done myself. I am not a team player, never have been and never will be. It’s not that I am mean or rude…I just like things done a certain way and it just goes back to the old cliche….

If you want anything done right, you have to do it yourself. That’s the damn truth whether anyone likes it or not. No one is ever going to live up to how I want something done, so why get aggrovated over it. I would rather work individually. It’s just my character. Am I wrong? Does it make me a bad person for not being a “team player”?

“Do you consider yourself to be a “team player”? That’s such a loaded question when you’re in a job interview too. It sucks. There is no right or wrong answer. If you say no…you are difficult to work with….doesn’t play nice with others. If you say yes….you are incapable of delegating or completely tasks on your own. It’s a catch 22…another old stupid cliche that works here.

So, after months of being so isolated, we were finally able to buy a new/used car. It’s not brand new, but it’s not a piece of shit either. It is exactly what I need and we can afford right now. We bought it this past Saturday and I have been going everywhere I can think of….even just around the block. It surprising how easily I adapted to being without a car…turned isolated and resentful…and full circle to having something back that I truly thought I could live without.

I may not be a team player. I like to work alone. I like having a vehicle at my disposal. I created this blog in order to learn what I have done wrong in my life and how truly bad I make have fucked it up. I am changing my life in a huge way. I want to learn different opinions and experiences from other people, but  I am a control freak….and I have no plans on changing that particular aspect of my personality. I have done a lot of apologizing within the last year or so….a lot to people who did not even deserve it…..nonetheless…. I will not apologize for my controlling personality. I have always been this way….and I like it.

So many people find flaws in their body, personality or character…I happen to be perfectly happy with my control issues. That is one aspect I am not intersted in changing.

Call me crazy….my doctor’s have.

“Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time.”

~Thomas Alva Edison

Is it possible to tell someone how unhappy you are in a nice way?  How do you say to someone you love,”Umm, I have been trying to talk to you for a while now and you haven’t been particularly receptive and I am just at the end of my rope, so if something doesn’t change soon….I’m done.”

I know there are much better ways of phrasing it, but you understand the general concept, right? How do you make someone realize that you are feeling so frustrated, helpless or whatever the case may be, without it turning into WW III?

So many people keep their feelings bottled up inside. They have coined the phrase “bottled up” for a reason. The bottle eventually explodes.

No one wants to explode. It’s not something you plan for…not an occurrence that is well thought out….it is a final exercise in fruition. You can’t possible try talking to someone about an issue that is bothering you for so long…have no compromise and not eventually irrupt. Telling someone you love that the situation you are in is hurting you is hard. It makes you feel weak and makes them feel either empathic or powerful. The first being the best choice. Unfortunately, too often than not, some people like to have all the power in a relationship. They like the control and feelings of superiority. I am a control freak, so feeling helpless is the worst feeling I could ever go through.

People have to realize that relationships, marriages and friendships are a series of compromises. If one partner is not willing to compromise than it is not a true bond, in a sense. If you love someone enough, you have to be willing to do anything and everything within your power to make the relationship work.

Unfortunately, I have learned this the hard way a few times. Most of the time it has worked out for the better, but some have gone to a point of no return.

I have always believed that it’s good to cry, be angry, feel manipulated or betrayed by someone. It shows that you still care.

It’s when the tears stop and the anger fades that is makes me worry. These are signs of not caring…and when you stop caring, it is ten times worse than any hurt. It means you have given up.

I am starting to give up…..

So, I have this friend…..

I have this friend….she has a few kids and has no car right now. She stays in the house all day long. I don’t know how she does it.

Oh yea, I do know how she does it…..lots of cleaning and Xanax.

When you have a car, you take for granted the fact that if you need to run up to the store and get a gallon of milk, you can. When you don’t have a car…it’s a living nightmare. I’m sure lots of people live everyday without the luxury of a vehicle, but when you are used to a way of life and it suddenly is gone…it takes it’s toll after a few months. Cabin Fever is a real mental illness. The idea of being trapped….not even bus or taxi service for miles….is haunting and isolating.

She is saving for a down payment on another car and is about a month away from her goal, but until then…especially on a beautiful day like today in Florida…being stuck inside in the middle of nowhere is depressing.

Yea, yea…everyone is saying….”Well, at least she still has a home, lots of people are losing theirs.” ….Or…”Her husband is still working and making good money….lots of families don’t even have that.”

It doesn’t make her feel any better. Asking family and friends for rides or use of their vehicles is degrading, to a point. Feeling dependent on others and like a failure is a horrible feeling. No matter which way I look at it….her situation sucks.

People can adapt extremely well to completely negative change ….just by looking at the positive and knowing that this too shall pass.

I would offer her my car, but, as you may have already guessed….this is my story.

You make how much?????

Is it necessary in this day and age that spouses share the amount of their paychecks? Wouldn’t it be much more beneficial for the stay at home mom to know what she has to work with? I read a study in which MSN tried to caluculate the dollar value on a stay at home mom.

It’s nearly immpossible.

http://moneycentral.msn.com/content/CollegeandFamily/P46800.asp

So, if I am to be responsible for everything in my family’s life with the exception of going to a job everyday…shouldn’t I be entitled to know what the other job pays?

I mean, my husband knows how much I make…..$0.00.

What is it about “I’m getting ready” don’t you understand?

Almost everyone reading this has been to the beach, right? What do you pack? Cooler with drinks, snacks, towels, sunscreen, change of clothes…etc… Now, you’re going to the beach with 5 kids, one being a baby, what do you pack? Fucking anything and everything. You have to be prepared for every possible scenerio. Drinks and snacks….a million at least. Countless towels, clothing, and beach toys. Sunscreen is 100% non negotiable. You have to have a pack and play for the baby! You can’t have your baby crawling all over the beach eating sand and getting breaded in the process. First aid kit, because you never know who is going to end up with a bleeding body part. The list could be endless.

Now, why is it that it is impossible for most men/husbands/fathers to understand all of this?

You cannot simply grab a towel and head out for a day at the beach with 5 kids!

So, then the inevitiable happens….the fight. “What is taking so damn long”?….”What are you bringing”?!?…..yada, yada, yada…

And he doesn’t bother to ask what he can do to help speed up the process….no…just sit on the couch and bitch about how long it’s going to take.

Is this just happening in my house? Yes, I am going to say it…women think far more ahead than men do.

So, after all the screaming in front of the kids and me running around packing bags half assed, he wonders why I may have forgotten something.

Is it just me or am I the only one who realizes the ramifications of not packing properly for kids?