Dear Little Fool Wanting Attention,

Maybe if you wore more clothes you wouldn't have to complain about being cold during every meeting.  I'm tired of seeing your tits and normally I like looking at nice ones.  And maybe you could quit asking stupid questions too.  Once?  Okay.  The same questions every time you open your mouth?  No.  I'm starting to think you suffer from some sort of memory loss.  Maybe your lipgloss has eaten your brain.



Old Dude with the Scruffy Goatee,

We all notice how the young girls get your attention.  It's not a big secret.  The new goatee looks like my Grandma's bush and she's been dead for years.  Shave that shit off and start acting your own age.



You Who Will Remain Nameless,

You say you miss your kid but celebrate the fact that you have a house big enough to "hide" your boyfriend from her?  How about focus on your kid for once in her life.  Your window of opportunity with her is growing smaller.



Sweet Husband,

For crying out loud, quit doing me a favor by washing the baby's diapers.  I DON'T MIND WASHING THEM!  What I do mind is coming home after work to a sink of dirty bottles, the day's diaper bag not unpacked, the kitchen a mess, clean laundry that's piled up that you could have folded while watching television while I was getting the baby to sleep, and you wondering why I'm so fucking grouchy when I've finally had a chance to sit down 4 hours after I've walked through the door.  But, thanks for keeping the baby alive.  I'm not being sarcastic with that last sentence.

I had plans to redo my family room, nothing extravagant on a microscopic budget. I was really excited about it. Was...

Then came "The Great Possible Job Lead in Oregon."

Now I feel like I am in this push/pull, stop/start mode. I don't know what will happen so I don't know if I should continue making my home here or start to detach and pull away from it. Over the weekend I think I basically decided to continue on as if nothing has happened because, the truth is, nothing has happened. Somebody said they had a job lead, someone asked for a resume... that's nothing that hasn't happened more than a few times over the last year with local companies anyway.

We haven't even given anyone a resume yet... I think it's coming probably, but it hasn't happened yet. And, who knows what may or may not happen after that. So, it seems ridiculous to just freeze up and not do anything at all.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my husband's coworker/boss (because she can't ever decided which she is and being the owner's daughter does come with implied clout regardless) is planning on leaving for two weeks in September for a big, family Hawaiian vacation - along with anyone else in the company she is related to (her father and son) which leaves quite a big hole to cover for practically just my husband. This, of course, spins me back around to "fuck all this shit let's get the hell out of here" mode, especially when she calls him today to tell him she is taking two sick days for a surgery she is having.

Did I mention she has better insurance than we do? We weren't even offered the plan she is on - so whatever she needs, she gets, whatever we need is held up and procrastinated over by the HMO we are attached to - like the hip replacement surgery they say my husband is too young to have, but if we were on her insurance it would have already been done by now.

All this makes me want him to find another job almost anywhere because I just can't stand it anymore. The desire to up and disappear then brings me back around to wondering why am I going to the trouble of making new valances for my family room?

It's the never ending cycle... and I'm not sure how to break it.

For me 201o can be summed up in two words. THE MOVE.

In less than 72 hours, we'll have the first of the two biggest "family holidays" in the good ol' U.S. of A. Where everyone gets together, all the family from the grandparents on down to the newest generation that is still drooling on itself and figuring out they've got hands and feet and the awesome things called bootie socks.

As for me, I'll be sitting on my sofa, watching the parade on cable, and not bothering to change out of my pajamas.

I'm not having a very thankful holiday this year. An icy cold divorce, where my not-yet-an-ex-husband is doing his best to make sure I know that he always thought I was ugly and a big disappointment in bed, to a biological father who yo-yo's between being a caring father and a perfect stranger, and living paycheck to paycheck, I just don't feel the urge to thank anyone for anything.

Then I hear someone say "they're not my family, they're my step-siblings" and I realize just how lucky I got it.

You see, my family never put people into compartments of "half blood" or "step-daughter" or "grandchild by marriage". I have almost ten brothers and sisters. Only two of those (one of each) are actually related to me through blood, and that's "only" half-blood. The rest are steps, or informally adopted by me and mine into the family.

My "step-father" (whom I call 'Dad') was the one who taught me how to ride a two-wheeled bicycle. He taught me how to drive a truck. He taught me how to do multiplication tables, and how to play Rook and Rummy. He was the one who stood there and looked intimidating when I brought boyfriends home to meet the parents. He was the one who flipped out when I was out past curfew-

(And, for the record, if your daughter makes back home before curfew, that is when you should worry. Every time I missed curfew, it was for innocent reasons like talking and making snowmen. When I was home 10 minutes early? I had my panties in my pocket, and a hickey forming on the inside of my thigh.)

- and who always showed up to my shows, no matter if he understood them or not.

I have a mother who accepts my weirdness, from the childish sense of humor to the scary interest in blood spatter patterns. She worries over my health, and not over my tendency to forget to brush my hair in the mornings.

I have siblings who feel the same way about me that I feel about them.

I have friends who answer my phone calls in the middle of the night, even if all I have to tell them is that I fell on my ass in a parking lot.

I have a dog who tries to smother me with love instead of trying to bite my fingers off.

I have an asshole of an exhusband, and a father who doesn't understand anything about me.

But I've got a real family that would do anything for me.

You have to take the good with the bad. If that means sitting home alone on a holiday, so be it. Because next year I will be whining about the amount of cooking I need to do in order to feed everyone.

Oh, I've got a chore bitch. I have a chore chart on the fridge carefully outlined Mon. - Thurs. and then a separate list for my son for Friday and then a list for both of them for Saturday mornings.

It would be easier if I could complain that my kids ignore the chart, don't get things done, etc. But, no... the main problem lies in the fact that my daughter is involved with a school play and mock trial which, at least 2 nights a week, keep her at school until 8pm and at least two other days it keeps here in school until 5pm. On one hand I'm proud of her being involved like that and certainly mock trial is nothing to scoff at. But, the fact remains that I end up doing her chores on those days because she barely has the time to finish her homework.

Throw in extra things like spring or fall cleaning or attempting to de-clutter for Christmas and it's all I can do to cover the bare minimum so my house isn't a pig sty.