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The Ramblings of a Redneck Diva
Thursday, December 30, 2004
And so it began
Mood:  spacey
Topic: All in the family
The room-moving debacle began on Monday morning around 7. Mom and Sis and her 2 children converged upon my quiet home and things went from there. We started in the master bath, which is actually a pretty damn small master bath if you ask me. It's one of those 3/4 jobbies and it sucks. Well, it had most recently been an 8 year old little girl's bathroom and it was cutesy and girlie and I, in a moment of obvoius insanity, stuck little sticky butterflies all over the walls. They were adorable! Erm, until the aforementioned 8 year old, somewhere around the time she was 6, outlined them all in crayon, smeared toothpaste all over them and various other bad things to the cute little butterflies. Mom and I started peeling them off the walls. Did the butteflies come off the wall easily? Are you KIDDING? Does ANYTHING in my life happen easily? The stupid satan-filled butterflies were sticking like Wonder Bread to the roof of a dog's mouth. If it had just been me in the bathroom, I'd have left the sticky and called it extra texture. Heck we were painting, for cryin' out loud. But nooooooooooooooo, Mommy Dearest insisted we scrape, peel, and gouge off every last possible sticky morsel. All the while telling me that she wouldn't allow Ab to get away with things like that and how we'd have never gotten away with that when we were kids and how filthy my bathroom was. Agh. I was pretty much on the defensive and started getting hateful. I mean, how would you react if someone came into your house and told you it was dirty? But finally we got through with that mess and moved on to the girls' room and started moving things out of it. That went okay. Then the painting commenced. That went okay, too. Except for when we'd find crayon or boogers on the wall. Then it'd be met with sighs and much grumbling. I declared at one point that I was nothing but a filthy-ass horrible mother and would someone just shoot me and put me out of everyone's misery. I was ever so grateful for their help, but COME ON. We also painted the only paintable wall in the (now) toyroom a lovely shade of yellow and filled in the inset above the window seat with the green from the girls' room and also the inset where the wall heater used to be before it caught on fire in the first two weeks after we'd moved into this house, thus causing my oldest two children to be scarred for life when I grabbed the fire extinguisher and the telephone and told them to run to the back of the house. It's right purty, that wall. The Kilz and paint covered the char-marks wonderfully.

Well, Monday night is Ladies Night at the Big Fancy Casino and Sis was bound and determined to go. I was exhausted and so was Mom. I waffled back and forth, I was going, I wasn't going, I wanted to go, I didn't want to go. It was decided at 8:15 that I was going. We all left separately. Mom got there first, Sis was right behind her and I ran through the door to be greeted by the oh so friendly Courtney who said "You have 5 minutes so hurry!" I did the closest thing to a run I've done in years. Mom and Heather were sans makeup. I had put some on that morning, but I'm not sure there was much left. My hair had been pulled back in a clip all day and last-minute I had curled the bangs and pulled it back into a ponytail. We weren't the prettiest trio, but we were there to win, by golly.

We didn't win.

I stayed until the 10:00 drawing for $500 and the subsequent two $100 drawings and even heard the nice gentlemen announce that they'd draw for another $500 at 11 if we wanted to hang around. Want to? You betcha. Did I feel like I'd be awake at 11? No way. I didn't even spend all of my $10 free money. I cashed out with $3.15 and went home. I had to roll down the windows and blare the radio on the way home to stay awake. I was so tired I was chilling. My body was shutting down and I was helpless to do anything but go wherever it led and friends, that night it was straight towards Coma-ville. I slept till 8:30 the next morning, totally oblivious to my husband's departure at 6:15. My precious children left me alone. Ab got the other two milk and they ate cold poptarts and Nutri-grain bars. They really are wonderful kids.

Well, the next day was horrendous. We had one coat of paint to put on our bedroom. The girls had spent the night before in their new room on their brand new bunk bed, but our room was still at the other end of the house and all of the toys and possibly a few small monkeys, midgets and even large mammals were in my living room. I do not handle utter chaos well. A little chaos is fine. A lot, not so much. I wanted to start going through toyboxes, but it was too overwhelming. I instead worked on the girls' room. I cleaned out Abby's desk and dresser and basically killed time till Mom and Sis got there. When Mom arrived we went straight to work painting. It was quiet, the kids were napping and we just talked. We talked over some new family gossip(and boy are those folks strange) and she even told me a little about my grandmother's mental illness, something I knew very little about. I've heard Mom talk about her childhood my entire life, but always the very top layer. Now I'm a grownup and I want to know more. Sometimes it's not always good to know the grownup version of things. Very sobering. But I enjoyed the time spent with Mom. And when Sis arrived we talked more, just the three of us, talking about stuff. I like talking about stuff. Very non-threatening and sometimes jovial, that stuff.

Sometime during the day, something went awry. Things went bad. Tempers flared. Words were said. Sis left with me in tears and we were not happy with each other. We have spent virtually every day together for the past 3 weeks. We are, quite frankly, tired of each other. I declared to my mother and my husband that I would NOT call her and did not want to even SEE her until well after the children were back in school. Well, today I called her. I love her so much and I can't stand for there to be anything rotten and yucky between us. Things are okay again. Of course, if I know my sister, at some point she's going to want to "talk" about it and hash it out and I SO HATE that. I like for things to just smooth over on their own and for things to return to normal. Not her. She likes to dredge them all up, work them over a few times, shed a few tears, curse a little maybe and then let things be normal again. How did we end up related? We are like night and day in so many ways. But I do so love her. That just over 24 hours that we didn't speak was awful for me. I felt like my arm was missing. Sounds silly but if you have a sibling that you are very close to, you understand.

Today, I finished the toyroom. I finished Sam's room. My dishes are washed. (I'm still washing them by hand, btw. It sucks, btw.) I did a few loads of laundry. I visited with my mother-in-law and sent her home with some toys for Paul's great niece. I found the top of my dining room table again. I have not managed a shower, however. There are just some things I had to let go, although I wish it'd been the dishes at this point. I am kind of grungy, if you wanna know the truth.

Tomorrow is not only New Year's Eve, it's Anniversary Eve. Note to anyone not married yet:

If you are choosing a wedding date and you get this cute idea to choose New Year's Day because you think that he'll never forget it if it's on a holiday - do NOT pick New Year's Day. He'll never want to do anything on New Year's Day because when you're young and have money, he'll be hung-over. When he's old and cranky, he won't want to go anywhere because well, he's old and cranky. Your best bet is to pick a random date, far away from any holiday or day you want to remain special and terrific. Then tattoo it on his forehead. That way you can still enjoy New Year's Day.

The Diva has spoken at 10:57 PM CST

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