This past weekend I watched a friend's children so she could have an actual night to her self. I was happy that I could give her a chance to have some "me time". She is a single mother who works AND home schools her kids. Seriously. I have no idea how this woman has time to even brush her teeth.

This means that I had nine kids for the weekend. Let me say that again, just in case you missed it. I HAD NINE KIDS FOR THE WEEKEND.

Nine. Kids.

NINE!

The oldest being 17, the youngest  - three.

It is safe to say I am currently insane.

And also in need of groceries.

I had to work on Mother's Day, which was the best one I've had in years. No one to remind me that I had no children, no one to remind that the children I did have were "born asleep". (worst fucking phrase in the world, hands down.)
I got a gift card to one of my favorite shops in the world, from an unknown sender. I asked my "admirer" about it, and they said it wasn't them. I, naturally, blew through the gift card as fast as my hot little fingers could log onto the website. I have a gift coming it's way to me via FedEx as fast as the postman can walk!
So Mother's Day started off pretty badass for me, all things considered. Until I got the text message from The Donor that it was his wife's birthday. Now, his wife and I aren't friendly. I'm pretty sure she dislikes me, and while I don't dislike her, I'm not putting myself out there when she's made her feelings clear to me through actions. I avoid her, she avoids me, we're both happy.
Since I did not promptly offer to throw her a parade, I am an uncaring person.
I called an old lover, because I needed someone to talk to, and halfway through our conversation they piped in with that they'd faded out of our conversation and hadn't heard anything I'd said for the last minute or so. I got off the phone with them, because, despite their honesty, I wanted to reach through the phone and rub their face off on the sidewalk.
Yes, tell someone you'd blanked out of the conversation, but Christ, it makes the person you were talking too feel like they're an unwanted invasion on your life.

I spent that night crying in my pillow.

I am turning into one of the people I hate. I spent most of today going "Fuck Christmas!" and cheerfully wishing all the people I saw straight to hell.


I have never felt less like celebrating Christmas in my entire life. "But, Surreal, haven't you had stillborn children?" Yes, I have, and Christmas was hard each year, but I wanted to celebrate it because Christmas is a time of renewal. End of the year, and good tidings, and family, and friends, and even complete strangers who get touched by the Christmas spirit and try to spread the joy.

This year, there is no family. No friends. Nothing comforting.


And I want to just sleep until December 26th.


Sleeping til December 26th sounds very appealing. We've already pretty much given the boys their Christmas gifts (so they'd have time to play with them since they have to go to their bitch of a mother's early on Christmas morning) and we aren't planning a conventional Christmas dinner.
I'm mostly grouchy because the past two weeks have been horrid at work. The holidays really bring out the crazy fucking assholes. I've had 4 sobbing at my desk meltdowns lately while my coworkers peeked on in horror. Mean people suck.

This is the first time in almost 20 years that my body is going without the tasty goodness of birth control pills and I might be a bit sensitive while I adjust to being "normal". This is great fun.




This has been the absolute week from hell. Food poisoning or a stomach virus last weekend followed by a tooth extraction on Monday - which was not the lovely sort of "conscious sedation remove your wisdom teeth" sort of extraction but full blown present in the moment instead. That was followed by finishing up Christmas shopping, Christmas wrapping, and my husband acting like a royal jackass last night to boot. Throughout all of this have been the record rainfalls (aka torrential downpour) for days on end and I have to wonder if the suicide rate isn't going to be up this Christmas because of it.

I am honestly usually such a freak about Christmas, those who have known me for years know I've never been the "bah humbug" sort but this year I'm dangerously close to it and it honestly frightens me. I'm trying to rebound today, though. I've got a batch of gingerbread dough chilling in the fridge, I'm getting ready to make a batch of sugar cookie dough so I can spend the afternoon with my 6 year old decorating cookies for Santa. My greatest fear is my shitty mood ruining the magic of the season for her. I seriously don't need another reason to hate myself and that would definitely be it.

Still there are moments of bitchy sunshine. Literally and figuratively. The rain has cleared for today and tomorrow thankfully, the sun is out. I had the sheer joy of waking my husband (sleeping off a hangover on the couch this morning) by blaring "Miracle on 34th Street" on the television and banging about the kitchen as loudly as possible and my oldest teenager is my slave for the day currently scrubbing pans in the kitchen and getting ready to vacuum. Revenge is not best served cold, my friends, revenge is watching someone else clean your house on Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas, bitches! My sincerest wish is for a far merrier Christmas for us all next year.

The best Christmas ever... that's a tough call. Not counting the ones when I was a small child, as those are always the best one ever, I'm not sure one qualifies as "the best".

I have moments from every Christmas that are wonderful. I know that sounds sappy, but it's true.

When my brother was small, he liked to jump. No idea why, he just jumped when he was happy, or hyper, or really excited for something. He got a toy for Christmas that came in the plastic packaging that requires a blow torch and a college degree to open, and he (at three/four thought his older sister could do anything) handed it to me with "Here Sissy, you do it."

I can still remember the feeling of his hot little hands on my kneecaps as he jumped up and down in front of me while I wrestled with that stupid damn package. Eventually I got it open, he screamed "Thank you Sissy! I love you!" and spent the rest of the day playing with it.

When I was eighteen, I got a cell phone for Christmas. I'm sure you can figure out why a teenager was thrilled to get her first cell.

At twenty-two, I got woken up early by the jumping little brother (who was no longer so little and no longer jumped when excited) and spent the day in my pajamas with my mother watching the holiday parade and fielding phone calls from family.

Last Christmas was both wonderful and awful. It was wonderful because it was a day of family, both blood and adopted, and awful because my then husband called and made me feel bad.

I went with my mother, my best friend, and my not-bio dad to see Sherlock Holmes when it opened. We gorged on popcorn, then went out to the bar. I thought it was strange, going to a bar on Christmas night, but I spent the time with friends who mean the world to me.

This Christmas isn't ever going to be "the best", but it's better than others. I'm poorer than ever, but I'm free to celebrate my way. I can decorate a tree however I want, I can cook whatever I want, and I sing whatever Christmas Carols I want, because the only one who is around to hear is the dog, and she thinks I'm perfect either way.

This week is fair weather friends week. We all have those stories about people we thought were friends but then saw their other side.

I know it's natural to hate "change." I know things evolve, things change, the one constant in life is fucking change. I get that. I really do. I know that ideally I'm supposed to leap up with great enthusiasm and embrace change.

But, I don't. Especially when it comes to relationships. Whether it's my son who is nearing 20 at light speed... or the woman I used to affectionately call my best friend. She and I had known each other since third grade. THIRD GRADE. All those years... longevity... through thick and thin, my parents' divorce, her parents' divorce, my divorce, her 2 major break ups...

She was the Maid of Honor at my wedding. And, she has a horrible taste in men. I know she sees me as not wanting her to be happy. I can't help it if I think the man she is buying a house with and wants desperately to knock her up is a fucking loser. I've had my boobs groped by this guy on more than two occasions, he has groped my sister and three friends. He groped and nearly dry humped a 16 year old girl at a family barbecue at my HOME. But, I haven't spoken to my friend in almost two years because as she told me she was going to "stand by her man."

At the moment I have to admit to being in a really pissed place. I think about that friend and a few others, hell, even my own mother and I have to wonder what it was I did to deserve this bullshit. I look around at the things I used to love to do and really enjoyed doing and how at least two of the people previously mentioned have ruined them for me.

Oh, I know... no one can make you feel inferior without your consent. I also know that I didn't feel that I consented as much as I was pushed into a corner and then ran right out of town. Then I think back to change and how much I hate it and I have to wonder, it might just be me, but it sure looks like every damn change that has occurred over the last 5 years for me has been nothing but worse leading to worse.

Another old friend from high school called me shortly after one of my children was diagnosed with cancer. I don't really recall her saying she would pray for him or was worried about him. This girl had known him since he was born, she also claims to be a devout Christian... but the conversation went, "Oh I heard about [the boy] and I was calling to tell you about my niece she is going to have heart surgery and we are all just so worried..." Two years later both kids (my son, her niece) are healthy. But, I keep thinking back to that phone call, the last time I talked to her and how I was only a few days dealing with the news that my child had cancer and she CALLED me but had zero compassion to offer. 

I think I have the meaning of the term, "fair weather friend" down to a science and present company excluded - I have zero "old friends" now... zero. But, maybe that just says more about me than I'm comfortable getting into. Still, it seems I've reached a place in my life where fragility is more than just the discussion of "life or death" that everything is so damned fragile. Friendships are fragile, capable of changing at a moment's notice, marriages, relationships hang by thin threads and one never really knows if or how they might snap. Sometimes I'm completely sure that life is nothing but an endurance test.