Can't Win 'Em All

Are soy chai lattes caffeinated? Because if they are I think I'm going through withdrawal. After drinking way too many lattes this weekend I opted not to have any today. And now I have a serious headache. Connection?

I'm also starving and am looking forward to eating my lunch that's in the fridge. Homemade lasagna and salad.

"Oh, you had time to make a lasagna this weekend?"

No, I did not. However Michael's mother had time to make him a lasagna, a big salad, a pot roast AND a carrot cake yesterday. In between church and a 3 p.m. dinner. Which I decided at the last minute not to attend. Because I had "plans". Which included CVS and the couch.

When he walked in the door that evening with heaping bags of food I felt the pangs of yet another jab at me.

I can't compete with a four-course meal made with love, control and a dash of guilt.

And she knows it.

Mother: 1
Me: 0

From Now On Our Troubles Will Be Miles Away?

It's the last day before vacation and while I am looking forward to the break and seeing my family, I am very aware that this holiday will not be all merry and bright. This is going to be a hard Christmas.

My sister has caused the family a lot of heartache and stress lately. Trust has been lost. A lot of feelings have been hurt. A lot of tears have been shed. And while I'm still looking forward to seeing everyone, embracing them in hugs and watching them open their gifts, a part of my holiday spirit has really died.

I'm so tired. I'm tired of crying at night. I'm tired from crying at night. I'm already counting down the minutes until today is over because each day that passes is one day closer to things getting better. I hope.

I know we'll all pull together as a family and make the most of the holiday and the time we have together. I am thankful for them and for Michael, who has been my rock and supplier of hugs through all of this. Without him I would be lost.

Happy holidays to all of you.

Hard

I feel sick. Someone I love very much is slowly and deliberately throwing their life down the toilet. Not only are they being hurtful and manipulative to the people I care about, they're being extremely self-destructive.

It's so hard. It's so hard to watch this happen and not be able to do anything about it. To see all their potential and talent be pushed aside. For what?

The lies. I'm so tired of the lies. So tired of looking into their eyes and not knowing if their words are true. Having to wonder, how did this happen? Why did this happen?

I want to shake them, slap them, hug them. Anything to save them from this downward spiral.

I feel used. Played. Because I believed them. Wanted to believe that they were giving their real self to me. I was wrong.

I have a pit in my stomach that won't go away. I'm anxious and I don't do well with anxiety. I want this to be better. But will it get better?

It's out of my hands.

And I'm scared.

I Don't Even Want To Look At Turkey

This long weekend was so nice. I spent time with my family, ate lots and lots and lots of food, visited with Dani California and almost completed all my Christmas shopping. It was great.

Getting to NY, however, was not so nice. A trip that should have taken me two hours from work took FOUR. I even left early to prevent getting stuck. But no. I should have known. I-84 is pure hell. I sat in stand-still traffic for almost two hours until I couldn't take it anymore. After getting alternate directions from my mom I got off the highway, drove 10 minutes...and got stuck behind an accident. At this point my blood was boiling. I was tired, I was hungry and my butt hurt from sitting so long. I said, the hell with it, I was two exits away from where I needed to be. I'd just get back on the highway and deal with it.

So that's what I did. And wouldn't you know that not five minutes later the traffic broke and I was on my way. The cause of the traffic? NOTHING!!!! No accident, no exit, no merge. Nothing. I hate I-84.

As for shopping, I got gifts for Michael's mother, the children she's fostering, my aunt and gifts for Michael to give to people. I even got something for me. I've wanted a reed diffuser forever but couldn't find one. I thought it would be so nice for my desk at work. And this weekend Pier 1 was having a big sale and had them! Yay! And I bought new pillows for the couch because I am oh so domestic.

All and all a great weekend. And it was so nice to come home to Michael and the big dog yesterday. Kodiak nearly knocked me over with kisses when I came in the door. So cute! And Michael was full of I love you's and hugs and kisses and I know he missed me.

And now that Thanksgiving is over it is officially time for Christmas music, candles in the windows and a wreath on the door.

I love the holidays.

Have I Mentioned I Hate Bad Drivers?

I was still in my post-adolescent funk last night when I started the drive home from work. It was dark. It was raining, but not that hard. Not hard enough to justify the driving that I encountered the whole way home.

First there was the Creepy Crawly.

The driver that inches their way along the road at least five miles under the speed limit. Their wipers are on top speed (even though it's just a step above drizzling) and if you're close enough, you might be able to make out the top of clear plastic bonnet covering white hair.

Next came Big Truck You Cannot See Around. (BTYCSA)

BTYCSA drives in the left lane. He usually has some large equipment in his cab or things tied down under a tarp. He's going a mile or two under the speed limit but remains in the left lane. He also stays right next to the person in the right lane so there is no chance of getting around either of them. His massive size will not allow you too see around him or through his wind shied, so you have no idea what's going on in front of him. And he kicks up so much dirt and water that you have to use your wipers even though it's not raining that hard.

Then there was He Who Does Not Know Blinker Is On.

Blinker Boy will put on his blinker and get in the lane next to you. He will then continue to drive for miles with it on...blink, blink, blink. Is he turning? Is he going to cut me off unexpectedly? Does he hear the incessant BLINK, BLINK, BLINK?

And finally, my least favorite encounter of the evening: Mrs. Mini Van.

I HATE MINI VANS. I have never come across a person driving a mini van that was a good driver. They usually fall into one of two extremes:

One: They are so slow. There is a gaggle of children inside, toys are being thrown, stickers are all over the windows and they are just basically in your way.

Two: They are maniacs. They have a soccer ball decal on their back window, a "My Child Is A (insert school here) Honor Roll Student!" bumper sticker, they're talking on their cell phone and they are FLYING. I cannot tell you how many times I've been tailgated by a mini van only to have them soar by me going 80.

Put this all together over the course of a 40 minute commute and you have me gripping the steering wheel and taking deep breaths.

I better not encounter this again tonight. I spent an hour in the gym releasing my road rage last night and I'm too sore to go back today.

Randomness

* I'm still fuming over the relationship with Michael's mom. I don't know why it's getting to me so much. I'm almost at the point where I want to sit down with her or write her a letter...anything to get my feelings across. Because right now I feel like she's taking advantage of the fact I haven't said anything to her.

The last few dinners with her? Awful. And at her birthday I really feel she took advantage of having an audience to be even more standoff-ish to me. Like she's saying, "Look, I told you she's not good enough."

And I've really had it up to here with the conservative, close minded statements. Yes, I'm liberal. Deal with it. Newsflash: liberal does not equal devil. It's not like I'm chained to a tree, burning my bra, making out with a woman all while aborting my unborn baby just because I can.

Sorry. That was a bit much. But you get my point.

And if I was really so awful, why would her intelligent, ADULT son be with me???

Thoughts, anyone?

*My first story is being published through work. I'm really excited about it because I worked really hard on it and it means that, oh yeah, I have a real job and I actually do something. The only downside is for whatever reason I won't be credited for it. At least not this time. No, it's not the New York Times, but I'm still disappointed. It's nice to see your name under your work.

*My mother is currently in the air flying to Hawaii for a week. I am not. You can see how happy I am about this.

*After tonight there will be no more political commercials. I cannot wait. If I have to see one more "the many hats of Chaffee" commercial I will scream.

*16 days till Thanksgiving! Yum!

Just. Breathe.

Last night left me completely emotionally exhausted. Do you know how hard it is to keep your mouth shut when you disagree so vehemently with the conversation going on around you but you know that saying something will just make it worse?

Back to that in a minute.

Dinner went basically exactly as I anticipated. Michael's mom thanked him very sincerely for the card both of us wrote in.

She shared a look (you know the kind) with her friend across the table when Michael's grandmother made a reference to our first Christmas tree.

She snapped at me for my choice of outerwear:

Me: Brrr, it got cold out!

Her: Well, Molly. Maybe if you were wearing a proper jacket, you wouldn't be so cold. I mean, really. It's not that cold out.

Me: I came directly from work. This jacket was just fine this afternoon.

Her: Well, it's not really worth complaining about, is it?

Right. Silly me. What was I thinking--rushing home from work to attend your birthday because 6 o'clock (rather than 6:30) is really better for you--and not bringing a suitable jacket for the drop in temperature that was bound to happen in the two hours we were in the restaurant??

Oh, the conversation that left me wanting to just die?

The nicest way to put it is that it was very, very, very close minded and bigoted. And I had already used my bathroom break escape to avoid an earlier conversation so I couldn't leave the table again without looking like I had a serious bladder problem.

I love Michael. I really, really, really, really do.

And now I completely understand why he doesn't like to go to his mother's for dinner.

Matriarchal Mess

Today is one of those days. You know the kind I mean. It's rainy, it's cold. Your bed was so warm and getting out of it was soooo hard.

It's that kind of day.

Coupled by the fact that I feel crampy and bloated and just want to eat chocolate all day. Which I will. Go ahead, judge me.

And, to top it off, tonight we are going out for Michael's mom's birthday.

This isn't all bad. The food will be good. His grandmother will be there and she loves me.

However, his mom? Doesn't love me so much. Sure, she's kind. She'll give me a hug and thank me for coming. But that's where it will end. The rest of the evening she will barely talk to me because her Son is there and that is the most important thing.

And no one is good enough for her Son. No. One.

Except maybe the daughter of a minister. Which I am definitely not.

Why does this bother me so much? Michael and I are happy together. I shouldn't worry about conquering the impossible task of getting his mom to love me. Isn't it true for all moms? There's no woman good enough for their boy?

Both his grandmothers love me. They even ask I call them Grandma. His dad liked me. His siblings like me. WHY DOES THIS BOTHER ME?

Oh, well. I guess it's just something I'm going to have to live with. I'm definitely having a glass of wine tonight.

She'll hate that.

Choices, Choices

I hate getting food from a place where the menu is up on the wall and you have to wait in line to order. It's not the waiting in line that bothers me. It's the ordering.

Looming in front of you is this giant board with hundreds (OK, maybe tens) of choices. And if this isn't an establishment you frequent often, you're going to need a minute (or five) to figure out what you want.

The problem is that the staff never gives you that minute. As soon as you walk in it's all "Can I help you?" or "What can I get for you?" Never "Just give me a holler when you're ready!" or something to that effect.

So here you are, sweating bullets as five staff members stare at you, willing you to make a decision NOW and you're all flustered because you don't know what you want and WHY ARE YOU PRESSURING ME?!!!!

And THEN, when you've made up your mind and are ready to enjoy your delicious breakfast sandwich/doughnut/ice cream cone.....there's no one to help you.

Where did they go? Where are the five eager faces ready to help assemble the breakfast sandwich, bag the doughnut or scoop the ice cream? Gone. Busy with the family of six, cleaning the tables, refilling the napkin holders.

So you wait. And you look at the menu. And now maybe you want that ice cream instead because you really like chocolate chunks and this one promises lots of chunks and.....

"Can I help you?????"

And the cycle continues.