Searching for Peace and Happiness

Well, my mother is in town. Of course my children had to go through the list of rules with her to make sure she had no problems with adjusting. One particular rule that stuck out greatly is our rule that you do not have to bathe on Fridays. Saturday is usually family fun day, and Sunday is of course church, but Friday is no bath day. We pretty much sit in the house rent movies, and eat pizza. This ritual of not bathing on Fridays, has become sort of a tradition. And we all know how much children love routines. Most psychologist tell us that routines are best for children, but what aboout the parents. When people behave irratically, or in a spontaneous manner it is assumed that they are somwhat unstable. Those days of impulsive behaviors are part of the past, I exist now as a mother with all her expectations spread out on the table. And to be honest, I love every minute of it. I have grown accustomed to no bath Fridays, and I love it. So while you may disagree, and may not want to carry on a conversation with me or come within a foot of my distance. I am proud to say that I love my routines. I love going to my kids' school once a week, visiting Miss. Carey, working on my school work, spending time with my family, and not bathing on Fridays.

I've Just Been Robbed.

Okay, so Diva is definitely down. Hair is looking a mess. Hair weave is past due, and my pajamas have turned into a uniform. What is the problem? My kids are sick. Those little friends called germs have snuck into my house, and robbed us dry. It first started with Dylan. Of course that began before dawn, lets try 4a.m and lasted until 7a.m. Dylan was vomiting, pooping, and pretty much getting rid of any type of liquid form in his body through any one of the 9 open orifices. I run out to get supplies, so that when the robbers come back I will be strapped. I end up spening nearly $200 getting prepared for the next brigade. I have gloves, lysol, masks, children's immodium, gingerale, orange juice, and vitamins. However, still my mother manages to find one thing that I did not get, so of course I'm back to the store for Pedialyte popsicles.

By the way did I forget to mention that my niece is visiting for the weekend. Which means weekend plus week when you are dealing with my sister. So just when I think things are getting better, what happens. I get a phone call from Dedan's school. Of course, my baby has thrown up in front of his entire class, and because my son is incredibly smart he throws up on his homework, and notebook. In the mean time I have been filling myself with herbal supplements to boost my self esteem, and walking around like a zombie with a mask and gloves, hoping that these perpretrators do not come after me.

Of course I say diarrhea, and vomiting and exhusband/dad has dissappeared. So it is just me the kids, and ADT (Another Day of Torture). Well gotta go. I think it is time to stick another suppository is my son's behind to prevent him from throwing up. However, I don't know how its going to prevent him from having diarrhea. Next, husband is definitely going to be a pediatrician.

I now seperate you as husband, wife, and children

Divorce, is hard on children. Our spouses drive us crazy, and I suppose we do the same. It begins with seperate beds, and ends with seperate holidays, homes, and families. When your ready to finally leave you spouse, he or she has probably driven you to a point of no return. When all you can think of is getting away as fast as you can from the person who once was considered your significant other you forget about the children. But in the midst of hurting eachother, the real people who end up hurt are the kids.

Yesterday, I spent the day planning a birthday party for my ex-nephew. I got balloons, cake, ice cream, decorations, pizza, the entire cha-bang. We played with the pinata, his dad came, his grandfather, my kids, and my ex-husband. I tried to make it the best party I could, but my ex-husband surprised me by reminding me of the one person who was not there, my ex-nephew's mom. When did a mom become blackballed from the VIP list. In my journey to plan the perfect party, the main ingredient was missing, his mom. It wasn't because I didn't want her there, or because he didn't want her there. But divorce calls for seperate holidays, homes, families, and even birthdays.