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8:38 a.m. - 2007-10-02
spc food breakfast of champions

For Self-portrait challenge October theme: "Food food glorious food. What is your relationship with food. Is it a constant battle for you between dieting and indulging. Or you are rigorous and can avoid temptation. Do you love to cook and feed others or are you a health nut eating only nuts and fruit. Whatever and however - you need to communication your relationship to food in a visual way."


I love breakfast foods. Cereal, waffles, eggs, hash browns, pancakes, oatmeal. There are many days when I make breakfast for dinner - not because the kids want it but because I do. My absolute favorite ideal breakfast is pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream, country fried potatoes, and a side of soggy bacon. Mmmmmm.

But lately, my breakfast hasn't been so yummy. Or nutritious.

It usually starts out with a cappuccino. Since it's finally cooling off in the mornings I grant myself this treat as I get the girls' lunches packed, feed them breakfast, and drive them to school. I absolutely adore sitting outside and watching the world wake up as I sip my steaming hot mug of vanilla cappuccino (I like the cheap instant stuff). This morning I saw a family of rabbits emerge from our back field, trot to the soy beans to have a nip, and scamper off the other direction. I saw a stray dog wander up, investigate our trash cans, see me and scram. I saw chipmunks, squirrels, and one lone beautiful deer that bounded off when it caught my scent.

I was trying to capture the steam as it came off my cup and it filled the whole frame.

After I've fed and chauffeured the kids around, it's time for me to have that hearty delicious breakfast I was talking about, right? Wrong.

I have a pile of pills to consume. I've found that by taking my medicine in the morning I get sick less and I am able to sleep a bit more at night (FOUR hours instead of two!!). However, those pills also sufficiently kill my appetite. One, the anti-depressant, is an appetite suppressor. Andddd so is the anti-psychotic. The other pill isn't for my mind (see? I'm not that crazy - I only have to take TWO types of crazy pills), it's for my anemia. It gets worse in the winter and my doctor gives me big ole honking iron pills to take. I bruise easily and well, you've noticed how pale I am. Which is also why, when I get sick, I get sick.

Since I've started taking my newest medication I've lost over twenty pounds. That, plus the healthy diet I've put Ani and I on, have slimmed me down a bit. I've never been a big girl. I've never been a little girl. I'm 5'3" and any amount of weight lost or gained really shows on me.

So, of course, my dad and my boyfriend have both become concerned that I may be not eating on purpose and that I may have an eating disorder. Of all of the things for them to worry about what I eat should be the least of them. Trust me. I'm a junk food addict who can put away as much as a grown man when I'm inclined too. I wish I were in better shape but I don't think I'm fat. Those old love handles on my sides would go away if I worked out - not if I starved myself.

There you have it. The breakfast of champions - caffeine and pills.

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6:40 a.m. - 2007-10-02
overuse of the word cheer for a gloomy gal

On Saturday, Ani cheered for her "team". It was the first game I attended with her - since this weekend I was finally not in another state, town, or state of mind. So far, my buddy Candice has been taking her. Candice is the coach and the one who talked me into doing this whole cheer crap in the first place.

It actually turned out to be fun; despite my extraordinarily gloomy mood. I took my sister with, a blanket, a book, sunglasses, and water, and completely camped out with Candice and the seven absolutely adorable, spunky, and scattered 5-7 year-old cheerleaders.

Analise, at first, didn't seem comfortable at all. She refused to really get into it and wouldn't even talk to the other girls. I was confused. She seemed fine at practice. I asked Candice if she was that way at the other games and she was perplexed as well and told me that she was usually excited.

It was me, of course. She was nervous about performing in front of me. After a few cheers that I got up and helped out with (now THAT'S a mental picture to start your day) and at the end of which Adrian and I would clap and tell them how great they were doing, she was just fine.

And so what if the other moms really didn't even talk to me. I had Candice and Adrian there. Adrian, of course, was making fun of every single family that walked past in typical W------ family style. There's nothing more relaxing than hearing, "That kid has a MULLET. Don't his parents know what decade this is? Oh wait, the parents have mullets too. Mullet family!!" in your left ear the entire time you are trying to remember the words to "Push 'em back, Panthers".

The little girl right in front of Ani in this picture is the cutest thing ever. She is always smiling. I haven't seen her without a grin on her face. She was born to be a cheerleader. She is the only one who remembers every single cheer and every move and actually participates in each session. Her mom must have drank great gobs of gatorade and read volumes of Teen Cosmo while she was pregnant.

Look at me! I'm even in team colors!! Panther pride, rah rah rah! Are you proud of me? Yeah, that's as close to soccer mom as I get.

It's okay though, for this kiddo, I'd even .....cheer lead.


********quick update on mom situation******

The woman has completely lost it.

She showed up at Ani's school yesterday while I was there picking her up. She screamed "whore" at me from across the lawn and then peeled rubber out of there. EVERYONE turned to stare at me.

I stood there with a deer in headlights look for a moment and then shrugged and said to the other mom standing near me, "Was she talking to you?".

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6:33 a.m. - 2007-10-02
as IF I even know any of this

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...

enough money within her control to move out
and rent a place of her own, even if she never wants to or needs to...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...

something perfect to wear if the employer, or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..

a youth she's content to leave behind....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...

a past j uicy enough that she's looking forward to
retelling it in her old age....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .... ..

a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .

one friend who always makes her laugh... and one who lets her cry...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....

a good piece of furniture not prev iously owned by anyone else in her family...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...

eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal, that will make her guests feel honored...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...

a feeling of control over her destiny.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

how to fall in love wit hout losing herself.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

how to quit a job , break up with a lover, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

when to try harder... and WHEN TO WALK AWAY...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

that she can't change the length of her calves,
the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

that her childhood may not have been perfect...but its over...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

what she would and wouldn't do for love or more...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

how to live alone... even if she doesn't like it...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..

whom she can trust,
whom she can't,
and why she shouldn't take it personally...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

where to go.. .
be it to her best friend's kitchen table...
or a charming inn in the woods...
when her soul needs soothing...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

what she can and can't accomplish in a day...
a month...and a year...

--Maya Angelou

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10:12 p.m. - 2007-09-30
jeebus

Wellll, what was only a bad weekend has turned into an absolutely shitty one.

Okay, back story first. When I found out I was pregnant with Analise I was 18, still living at home, and attending my first semester of college. My mother insisted I get an abortion. I refused. She kicked me out. I ended up living with Ryan (Ani's dad) and his father. His dad HATED me back then.

After a few weeks of living there I realized that I had never received my grant check for school. I called the old homestead to check on it. Had it arrived? Yup. Well...could I have it? Oh no. You see, my mother had forged my signature on it and cashed it. Huzzah!

It gets better.

So then I demanded she give me my money. She was attending "marriage counselling" at the time (for she and my dad). Um, except she was the only one who went, my dad never did. Anyhow, apparently, her marriage counsellor had told her to tell me that I could only have the money if I did what she wanted me to do with it.

What she wanted to do was buy a 1972 trailer she found for sale in the next town. There were no walls in the master bedroom. There was a hole in the floor where the previous occupants had thrown their beer cans to the ground. There was no wiring in it. There was no hot water heater, stove, a/c, etc etc etc etc. And it was disgustingly filthy.

What choice did I have? I was pregnant, young, scared - and homeless thanks to her. I agreed (as if I really could disagree). We bought it. Ryan and I spent the next six months working our asses off to fix it up. Through federal programs and with a little help from my dad we eventually got new carpeting, new heater, new stove, new doors, windows, everything. It was still a piece of junk. But it was a livable piece of junk at least.

Fast forward several months. Ryan joins the military and is gone to boot camp. My dad leaves my mom. My mom suddenly needs a source of income. Why - she'll just charge me RENT of course! For the trailer she bought with MY stolen grant money. Oh, and I had to drop out of school that semester because I couldn't afford to attend.

Ryan was in his first month of training. Any military wives out there? What that means is NO money for the family. Nada. Zip. The first check came about two months into it. He got no sign up bonus. They charged him for the hotel room he stayed in before going to boot camp, for his physicals, his uniforms, his meals. Huzzah Uncle Sam! Which meant - after two months of waiting, I finally got a grand total of $138 bucks.

And mother wanted me to pay rent.

I started working fast food. I paid what I could, twenty here, thirty there. The most I could afford was fifty bucks a month. I didn't get my first check until four weeks from starting the job (they paid every other week).

Right. Do you get the point? I was POOR.

Then came the week that I was down to thirty dollars. Ani needed diapers and food. I needed food. I needed gas to get to work. Mother wanted one hundred bucks asap. I took her what I could - I gave her twenty which left me a paltry ten dollars. It wasn't enough for her. She flipped.

I came home from work the next day to find the locks had been changed on the craptastic trailer and, once again, I was homeless; only this time with a nine-month-old baby.

Ryan's mom ended up clearing people out of her rental property for us to stay there. That begin the six year time period in which my mother was essentially dead to me.

Okay then. Up to speed.

My sister. My twin sister. The only person in my family I give a shit about anymore. She's paranoid schizophrenic and has severe medical problems. She's on disability. She's almost incapable of taking care of herself. My mother is paid to take care of her and to take her to the doctors. Guess who ends up doing most of that? That's right, me.

Last fall mother received a settlement from one of the dozen bunk lawsuits she always has in the works. She bought Adrian....guess. Just guess. That's right - a shitty trailer. Which Adrian is blissfully happy in because for the first time since we were teens, she has a place that is hers. Some people who think they are better than others like to make fun of people who live in trailers. I don't even flinch anymore. Really, go ahead, laugh all you want at a girl who has survived four heartattacks, kidney failure, and three suicide attempts. Go on. Laugh it up. Ha haha she can't work and she can't afford to live in a nice place. Oops, rant. Sorry. I'm a little angry right now.

Sort of.

There's a wee problem. In the past few days my mother has insisted that she absolutely must have the title for it. I told Adrian no way no way no way. I told her to give it to me. I would keep it and that way mother couldn't get it. She gave it to me. I filed it away safely. End of story.......I wish.

The phone calls started at about eight. And have continued every two minutes since then. Alternating. Mother screaming. Adrian asking me, "please, just bring it so she'll leave".

I finally told Adrian at ten o'clock that it was the middle of the night, my daughter (you know, a child, mom? you know what that is? oh right, you don't) is in bed. I'm in bed. I am not going anywhere. I'll bring it in the morning if she really wants to let that woman push her around.

They are still calling.

Fun.

And good ole Bill? When I called him in tears because my mom is screaming at me how she wished I had never been born, how I was nothing but a dried up useless ugly stupid whore - he didn't answer. And he didn't call back.

I'm .....I'm.......well, you know.....

Um yeah she just showed up out here banging on all the doors and window. Easy solution for that! I woke my dad up and he answered the door. She immediately apologised and left. I've won this battle but certainly not the war. Can you ever win against a psychopath?

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before//after

previously...
1 - 2007-10-16
........................ - 2007-10-15
.............. - 2007-10-15
sunday time fillers - 2007-10-14
click it - 2007-10-13