Monday was a day I got to stay home with Orion and not because someone was sick. It was nice to get to relax, take a nap, and spend part of the day cooking and trying new recipes. I made fried peach pies and u have to say that they are absolutely fantastic. We also made a new chicken recipe for supper which turned out pretty good, along with some honey glazed carrots that were alright. For lunch we made homemade pizza and Orion got to make his own. He seemed to enjoy that and it was yummy. I really love cooking, but unfortunately when I have already been awake for 12 hours by the time I get home, my desire to make a big fancy dinner is definitely lacking. Yesterday was s nice though and today was back to work as usual. They are calling for a huge amount of snow this week again... I really hope they're wrong.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Friday, February 15, 2013
Pity Party
I will warn you ahead of time...this is a blog that will be whiny and full of complaints. Let me have my pity party.
I often feel like I don't matter to my family at all. There is 1 person that I hear from with any regularity (my awesome sister Ashley) and the rest of them seem like they could care less if I ceased to exist. I tried to call my sister 4 times before getting ahold of her...and then 15 minutes of her time was a hassle and I was told she'd call me "later this month." I hadn't talked to her more than a couple of texts since Thanksgiving. I talk to Ashley several times a week so I just don't get it.
As if that isn't lame enough, My mother has decided that this year she is going to skip Orion's birthday so that she can go to her friend's birthday party instead. I just don't get it. Her friend is someone that she sees a few times a week. She hasn't seen Orion for more than a couple hours in the last few months. I guess we just aren't priority. It breaks my heart, but I have no control over the situation. I'm tired of begging for attention. I can literally go weeks without hearing from my mother if I don't call her. She has no idea what's going on with us unless I take the time to call her to let her know.
And then there is the ever-present void caused by the lack of communication from my father and his family. I haven't heard from him in months. Not a text, not a call. Nothing. There hasn't even been a Facebook comment from him. He had said that he wanted to video chat with Orion....to read him a book or something. I gave them a list of all of Orion's books (hundreds of them) and never got a single response about it. It has been months since I sent that to him. He hasn't seen anything other than photos of my son in two years. He's turning 4 in a couple weeks. Not that it surprises me. My dad and I have a history of going 5+ years without seeing each other. I guess it doesn't bother him. He has a family, so what do I matter?
And his children...well...I don't really blame them. They don't know me at all. Why would they want to keep in touch with me? I have tried to talk to them but I rarely get any response or interest. It's exhausting to keep trying. I am tired of putting myself out there for no reason. It's incredibly tempting to just hide myself away from the world and just focus on my little family. I'm sick of being hurt by the people that are supposed to "love" me.
I guess the best way to sum things up is that I'm lonely. I love my little family, but I really don't have any friends that I can depend on. Everyone seems to bail on me or lose interest at some point. It's a drag. Sometimes I would love to have someone to just giggle and gossip with...or to randomly hit a movie...or just get food. I dunno. I'm trying. It has to get better, or else the pain will fade. It always does. *sigh*
I often feel like I don't matter to my family at all. There is 1 person that I hear from with any regularity (my awesome sister Ashley) and the rest of them seem like they could care less if I ceased to exist. I tried to call my sister 4 times before getting ahold of her...and then 15 minutes of her time was a hassle and I was told she'd call me "later this month." I hadn't talked to her more than a couple of texts since Thanksgiving. I talk to Ashley several times a week so I just don't get it.
As if that isn't lame enough, My mother has decided that this year she is going to skip Orion's birthday so that she can go to her friend's birthday party instead. I just don't get it. Her friend is someone that she sees a few times a week. She hasn't seen Orion for more than a couple hours in the last few months. I guess we just aren't priority. It breaks my heart, but I have no control over the situation. I'm tired of begging for attention. I can literally go weeks without hearing from my mother if I don't call her. She has no idea what's going on with us unless I take the time to call her to let her know.
And then there is the ever-present void caused by the lack of communication from my father and his family. I haven't heard from him in months. Not a text, not a call. Nothing. There hasn't even been a Facebook comment from him. He had said that he wanted to video chat with Orion....to read him a book or something. I gave them a list of all of Orion's books (hundreds of them) and never got a single response about it. It has been months since I sent that to him. He hasn't seen anything other than photos of my son in two years. He's turning 4 in a couple weeks. Not that it surprises me. My dad and I have a history of going 5+ years without seeing each other. I guess it doesn't bother him. He has a family, so what do I matter?
And his children...well...I don't really blame them. They don't know me at all. Why would they want to keep in touch with me? I have tried to talk to them but I rarely get any response or interest. It's exhausting to keep trying. I am tired of putting myself out there for no reason. It's incredibly tempting to just hide myself away from the world and just focus on my little family. I'm sick of being hurt by the people that are supposed to "love" me.
I guess the best way to sum things up is that I'm lonely. I love my little family, but I really don't have any friends that I can depend on. Everyone seems to bail on me or lose interest at some point. It's a drag. Sometimes I would love to have someone to just giggle and gossip with...or to randomly hit a movie...or just get food. I dunno. I'm trying. It has to get better, or else the pain will fade. It always does. *sigh*
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Sisterly love
In the middle of the afternoon yesterday I got a text from Seth's baby sister Jaime asking is she could come spend the evening with us and of course we were thrilled to get to spend time with her. Orion loves to play with his Jammy and I'm pretty sure that she's a little fond of him too.
We took her to eat Cajun food for the first time, which she seemed to enjoy and we got to spend some time talking about movies and cracking up. I love spending time with her. I've known Jaime since she was a little kid and I am so incredibly proud of the beautiful woman she has grown into. She is intelligent and so funny. She's fiercely independent and an amazing aunt to my son. I am so glad she decided to move closer to us. I've really enjoyed bonding with her and helping her explore the world. I love girl more than she'll ever know. She makes me so proud and I can't wait to see the amazing things that she accomplishes.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
New Ink
Last night I did something that I've talked about for a long time....I got my newest tattoo. Now while this isn't probably shocking to anyone who knows me, or really a matter of interest, the actual tattoo is what seems to have gotten some questions from people. You see...it's a duck. Yep, I didn't get autocorrected or anything there. I officially have a duck tattooed on my left shoulder blade. However, I promise you that there is a reason for this little duck to have a permanent place in my heart and on my flesh. I warn you now that this is going to be a rather long blog.
Let's start off with a photo....
This is a photo of one of my grandfather's tattoos. He got this when he was in the Navy when he was a much younger man. He has a matching on on the opposite arm that says "Who me?" It is such a perfect example of my grandpa's personality. He is loud and obnoxious and is constantly making me laugh. But at the same time, he is strong, dependable, and has the biggest heart of any man I have ever met. My grandpa is hard worker and has been the rock in our family for my entire life. He is a man with 3 daughters and 8 grand daughters, so the fact that he is still semi-sane is pretty remarkable. Yet he always has a smile on his face and a joke to throw at you. My grandparents never missed a single event that I was in, including watching me sit on the bench for junior high basketball, driving 4 hours and getting snowed in to watch a vocal concert, and even sitting in the gymnasium listening to our TERRIBLE school band play their horns out of tune at our annual Christmas program. No matter what, I would look out in the crowd and know that my grandparents were there...Grandma watching intently and gossiping with her neighbors while Grandpa chowed down on some popcorn and made faces at me whenever we made eye contact. No matter how badly things were going, I always knew they were there. No matter how lost I felt, I always knew that I had a place to go.
I remember being a little kid out in the garden with my grandma. We were talking about life and how crappy things are. I told her about a conversation that I had with someone....someone who told me "If you found God, things would be better." To say that I was hurt and offended is putting it mildly. Church was someplace that I never felt at home, but to say that I should be punished because of that? What kind of religion would promote such a hate-filled idea? I was nervous talking to my grandmother as my family had a very Catholic history. However, she sat me down in the grass and told me very seriously...."I've never felt more connected to the world than I do sitting right here in my garden, watching my plants grow. No one can tell me that I'm closer to God sitting in a church than I am with my hands buried in the dirt, nurturing the world, and helping things grow. That is my faith." Her love and understanding meant the world to me. For the first time, I knew that my path was ok, no matter what path that may be. I didn't have to follow the herd. It was OK to be me.
My grandfather...well...I can't say that we've ever had a moment that seems quite as "touching" as that one. We'd spend the weekends with him sitting in his recliner, me curled up on the arm of his chair, watching the Chicago Bulls playing basketball, or we'd go out into his shed and build something that he probably didn't need, but was determined to build anyway. He taught me to work with my hands and create things. He taught me to be strong and to work for the things that I wanted out of life. He taught me respect...and sarcasm. He has been such an incredible influence on my life that I can only hope to be half the person that he is in my eyes. I only remember him saying "I love you" to me twice in my life, and I'm quite sure that I've never heard him say it to anyone else, but at the same time I have never once doubted just how much he cares about me. He is the model of what a man should be, and I'm incredibly grateful that my son has the opportunity to know such an incredible man.
With that information shared, we can now get back to the original point of this post....my tattoo. When I was a small child I would spend hours with my grandpa, tracing and playing with his tattoos, making up stories about the naughty little ducks. My grandfather isn't proud of them, honestly, but it said so much about him and told such a story that I connect it deeply to his character and love them completely. Because of that...I did this:
This is my duck. We literally traced Grandpa's tattoo and modified and modernized it slightly, trying to stay as true to the original as possible. The words below it...my grandmother signs each of her cards to me with the words "Love you much" but I wanted to keep it with two words and I truly believe that my grandparents have taught me that it is important to love, and to love much. That is my grandmother's handwriting permanently etched into my skin. Seeing it complete, I almost cried. I can't wait to show it to my grandparents, despite the fact that I know the first words out of my grandfather's mouth will be "What in the hell did you do that for?"
And I have a reason.....I can tell them that I love them over and over, but I wanted a way to show them. I wanted to show them that no matter what, no matter how far away they are or how long it has been since I have seen them they are always close to my heart, a permanent influence on my life and who I have become. I know there will be questions from people, but I will wear this silly little duck with a lot of pride. Someday I hope to be as happy and admired as these lovely people:
Let's start off with a photo....
This is a photo of one of my grandfather's tattoos. He got this when he was in the Navy when he was a much younger man. He has a matching on on the opposite arm that says "Who me?" It is such a perfect example of my grandpa's personality. He is loud and obnoxious and is constantly making me laugh. But at the same time, he is strong, dependable, and has the biggest heart of any man I have ever met. My grandpa is hard worker and has been the rock in our family for my entire life. He is a man with 3 daughters and 8 grand daughters, so the fact that he is still semi-sane is pretty remarkable. Yet he always has a smile on his face and a joke to throw at you. My grandparents never missed a single event that I was in, including watching me sit on the bench for junior high basketball, driving 4 hours and getting snowed in to watch a vocal concert, and even sitting in the gymnasium listening to our TERRIBLE school band play their horns out of tune at our annual Christmas program. No matter what, I would look out in the crowd and know that my grandparents were there...Grandma watching intently and gossiping with her neighbors while Grandpa chowed down on some popcorn and made faces at me whenever we made eye contact. No matter how badly things were going, I always knew they were there. No matter how lost I felt, I always knew that I had a place to go.
 |
| I couldn't love these people more if I tried... |
I remember being a little kid out in the garden with my grandma. We were talking about life and how crappy things are. I told her about a conversation that I had with someone....someone who told me "If you found God, things would be better." To say that I was hurt and offended is putting it mildly. Church was someplace that I never felt at home, but to say that I should be punished because of that? What kind of religion would promote such a hate-filled idea? I was nervous talking to my grandmother as my family had a very Catholic history. However, she sat me down in the grass and told me very seriously...."I've never felt more connected to the world than I do sitting right here in my garden, watching my plants grow. No one can tell me that I'm closer to God sitting in a church than I am with my hands buried in the dirt, nurturing the world, and helping things grow. That is my faith." Her love and understanding meant the world to me. For the first time, I knew that my path was ok, no matter what path that may be. I didn't have to follow the herd. It was OK to be me.
 |
| I'm pretty sure they call this the "stink-eye". I'm quite sure I deserved it. |
My grandfather...well...I can't say that we've ever had a moment that seems quite as "touching" as that one. We'd spend the weekends with him sitting in his recliner, me curled up on the arm of his chair, watching the Chicago Bulls playing basketball, or we'd go out into his shed and build something that he probably didn't need, but was determined to build anyway. He taught me to work with my hands and create things. He taught me to be strong and to work for the things that I wanted out of life. He taught me respect...and sarcasm. He has been such an incredible influence on my life that I can only hope to be half the person that he is in my eyes. I only remember him saying "I love you" to me twice in my life, and I'm quite sure that I've never heard him say it to anyone else, but at the same time I have never once doubted just how much he cares about me. He is the model of what a man should be, and I'm incredibly grateful that my son has the opportunity to know such an incredible man.
With that information shared, we can now get back to the original point of this post....my tattoo. When I was a small child I would spend hours with my grandpa, tracing and playing with his tattoos, making up stories about the naughty little ducks. My grandfather isn't proud of them, honestly, but it said so much about him and told such a story that I connect it deeply to his character and love them completely. Because of that...I did this:
This is my duck. We literally traced Grandpa's tattoo and modified and modernized it slightly, trying to stay as true to the original as possible. The words below it...my grandmother signs each of her cards to me with the words "Love you much" but I wanted to keep it with two words and I truly believe that my grandparents have taught me that it is important to love, and to love much. That is my grandmother's handwriting permanently etched into my skin. Seeing it complete, I almost cried. I can't wait to show it to my grandparents, despite the fact that I know the first words out of my grandfather's mouth will be "What in the hell did you do that for?"
 |
| Side by Side comparison |
And I have a reason.....I can tell them that I love them over and over, but I wanted a way to show them. I wanted to show them that no matter what, no matter how far away they are or how long it has been since I have seen them they are always close to my heart, a permanent influence on my life and who I have become. I know there will be questions from people, but I will wear this silly little duck with a lot of pride. Someday I hope to be as happy and admired as these lovely people:
 |
| Love |
Monday, February 4, 2013
Cooking
Cooking with my son has become one of my favorite past times. We decided to make supper together and Orion decided that French Toast was what we were going to have, and I was all for it. I helped him to combine the ingredients, for the most part just by my pouring in the ingredients and him stirring them all together. It was messy, and so much fun. I love teaching him and watching him get excited about little things like flipping the bread over in the batter quickly and putting it on the hot griddle. Life with him is such an adventure and it really, truly, never gets old.
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