The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Today sucked. I'm not exactly sure why it did, because it shouldn't have, but it did. And I know this post is kinda long, but I have to get it all out before I explode because there is a lot of stuff bottled up still from this weekend and today is enough to top it off and blow the cork out of the bottle from the pressure built up inside.

I didn't get much sleep last night because I was doing my homework that was due yesterday, and since I can't do it while the kids are awake, I have to stay up late and do it. By the time Nick got here this morning when I had to get up, I think I was only out for about two and a half hours.The boys wouldn't get up this morning of course, so I sat there tossing things at them and hollering trying to wake them up for a half hour before they finally realized I was serious and they weren't going to get to sleep in and miss any school. Rowdy decided that he had a foul odor coming off of him and needed to take a shower, while Levi screwed around instead of getting dressed. By the time Rowdy got out, there was hardly any hot water so I took a quick shower that ended up turning cold on me anyway, scrambled into my clothing, and tried to get them out the door on time so that they wouldn't miss breakfast at school. Rowdy, however, had other plans and proceeded to whine, cry, and throw a tantrum because I told him to put the Wii controller down and get out to the car. He insisted he was staying home and playing it all day, but when I ripped the controller from his hands and gave him "the look", he had a change of heart and booked it to the car, which of course was all but out of gas, and as I put it into drive I prayed that Nick and I wouldn't be walking after we dropped them at school. We had enough to get us there and then get to Smith's right up the street to get gas, so that was a plus.

After we got home, we ate breakfast and Nick asked continually for half hour if he could play the Wii, the XBox 360, or Rock Band. After about 10 minutes, I put on Scooby Doo and just tuned him out until he quit. After Scooby was over, I randomly searched the channels for cartoons to keep him semi-entertained. If you don't know already, they play the same things over and over and over again every single day. I can tell you what happened and recite most of them word for word because we watched them all last week. And Comcast OnDemand only has 4 kid movies on it right now - which we have watched over and over again - so that was out of the question too. Finally, he says to me, "Aunt Neph, can we watch the vampire show?", to which I reply, "Sure buddy", and turn on True Blood because I'm tired of watching the same cartoons over and over again.

While the opening credits roll, I get up and walk down the hallway to my bedroom for something, and in passing the bathroom I see the scale there. Now, I started this whole blog thing one week ago today and the diet one week ago tomorrow. I haven't even THOUGHT about the scale until then, so I totally lose my train of thought and step on the scale. Then I step off, reset it, then step on again. Repeat the last actions about 4 times, then walk back into the living room and sit down. I haven't divulged my weight up to this point, but I'm going to do it now, because after today I could give a crap less who knows - it doesn't change things. If people see me differently when I put a number on myself instead of just a word then screw it, their loss. The scale read 246.8 lbs... I started this thing at 258 lbs even. If you do the math, that means that I lost 11.2 lbs in the last week. Hard to believe, right? Well, why do you think I weighed myself 5 times in a row and reset the stupid thing in between each time? My first thought after everything set in was that I am on the right track, I'm finally doing something for myself, and I'm very close to the weight I was when I fell off the diet wagon after I had Rowdy - 232 lbs. My second thought was, "what is going to come along to try to sabotage me?"

Well, I found out around noon what that was going to be. All of the candy left in the house is either a) way too old and doesn't taste right or will break your teeth, or b) something that I do not like to eat. Right around the time I was calling Ogden City Recreation to put United in the Fall Classic Tournament at 4th Street, Paul walked in the door with a huge bag of chicken strips, a couple of corn dogs, a couple of Bug Juices as a treat for Nick (because he gets bored during the day since everyone else is in school), and the kiss of death. That's right - Snickers. After the weigh-in, there was no way in hell I was eating more than 3 small chicken strips and a few baked potato chips. No sirree Bob. No way in hell. So I gave Nick his corn dog and a bug juice, took out a few pieces of chicken, a BBQ sauce, grabbed my tea, and plopped my butt down in the chair that I knew I wouldn't get up from to go get more. And it worked. :)

Then it was time to go get the older boys from school. As soon as they got home, the Snickers started calling to me - by name I might add - to come and devour it. Why you ask? Because I'm a comfort eater - I eat when I'm stressed, sad, depressed, mad, fed up, melancholy, happy, ecstatic, etc. And today I just happened to be fed up, stressed, lonely, and depressed. For all of you fellow comfort eaters, you know that one negative emotion is enough to drive you over the edge. Today, I was dealing with 4 of them. When Paul got home from work, he immediately headed downstairs with a bucket of menudo from the Mexican store. So it was me and Nick upstairs, and Nick wasn't in the mood for conversation. It was raining outside, which cheered me up a little bit (I like the rain, but I LOVE thunderstorms). I was trying to come to grips with the fact that I'm not going to graduate any time soon because I couldn't keep up with the 2+ PowerPoint presentations + report submitted as speaker's note and paper as a Word file due each week on different days because I didn't have any time without children most weeks and I couldn't drop the class so I lost my financial aid due to not being able to get a grade higher than an F and have to pay for the class before I can start other classes. And then they started fighting over the Wii.

 I was kind enough to let them play for a little bit when they got home from school while I looked over their papers, warning them that I was going to turn it off if they started to fight. At the first whine I warned them. And they yelled. And I threatened. And they slapped. And I threatened more. And they started punching, hitting, and kicking. And I turned the TV off. And Rowdy turned it back on. And I turned it back off. And he turned it back on again. And I stood up and turned it back off. And he cowered. And I said, "to your room now". And he cried (which, btw, sounds like a calf in pain). And I charged. And he ran like a bat out of hell to his room and closed the door, which I opened so I could hear if he started to jump out the window and run for it like he has done in the past.

By this time it's almost time for Natalie to pick up Nick and Levi needed to start getting things together and dressed for football practice. Rowdy had been in his room for about 15 minutes, and since he had been quiet I let him come out under the conditions that he act like a human being and mind me and the TV stay off. He was find with that, and after a few minutes I told him that he could go play with his little friend down the street but he had to come home when I called for him. He was fine with it, and off he went.

Nat picks up Nick, Levi's getting dressed for practice, and I'm still wanting that Snickers bar. But I don't touch it. Instead, I yell for Rowdy and he comes right home. By this time it's around 5:25 and we have to leave for football practice in 15 minutes. I ask Rowdy if he's going to practice, to which he looks at me like I'm stupid and replies, "It's raining - DUUUUUHHHHHHH!! Why would I go sit out in the rain to watch Levi run around kids instead of into them like he's supposed to?!?" I give him another look, tell him to be nice, hold out his homework, and tell him to go get a pencil from downstairs on my desk because if he was staying at home with Paul then he was going to do his homework. He gives me a disgusted look, takes the homework, and heads downstairs to get a pencil. I head into the bedroom, wake Paul up because I'm leaving and Rowdy is staying, tell him what's going on, and start to head down the stairs. Then I feel something I shouldn't feel - a cool, rain-kissed breeze flowing up and over the railing, and that's when I know that Rowdy has bailed on us. I head downstairs to confirm my suspicion, and sure enough - the back door downstairs is hanging wide open, it's raining on the carpet, the homework is on my desk, and Rowdy is nowhere in sight. I yell at Paul, tell him what's going on, and head out the door to look for Rowd for a couple of minutes on the way to practice because that's all we have to spare or Levi is going to be late. By this time it is pouring. I didn't see him anywhere, so I called Paul and told him to pick up where I left off searching for Rowdy and head to practice.

When we get there with only a couple minutes to spare, I get out of the car, get my chair, and head over to a few pine trees that grew close enough together to act as an umbrella. I haven't been there for more than 10 minutes when Paul calls me and tells me that my mother-in-law called and Rowdy was there and soaking wet. Well, DUH! It was pouring down rain when he decided to go on his little adventure to escape the big bad homework. Relieved, I hung up the phone to Paul saying he was going to see if someone over there would bring Rowdy home and he would call me right back. So I start focusing on practice again.

Then the phone rings. It's Paul again, saying that I need to pick Rowdy up, and to be prepared for an ass chewing for not chasing Rowdy down before I took Levi to practice and letting him walk over there. Now, last I checked I didn't let him do anything. I went looking for him less than 10 minutes after he took off. And if any of you know Rowdy, he may be big but he can move when he has a purpose in mind. And that's exactly what he did. My mother-in-law only lives about a 15 minute leisurely walk away, and I'm sure I could do it in 9 minutes or less if I put my mind to it, which means he was all but at her house when I started the search. Now, there is no way I'm getting my ass chewed for this. I'm not the only parent in this household, I don't have eyes in the back of my head, and I'm not Superwoman. It's still pouring down rain, and I'm getting cold already. So I tell Paul that I'm not going to get Rowdy, he is walking back home, and that's the end of it. Then all I hear is silence. And that silence is enough to send me over the edge. So I start rambling and babbling and explaining the reason behind my decision, letting every problem from the recent past and every fear for the near future rear its ugly head, knowing that this is the only opportunity I will have to get this out in the open because any other time Paul will either be asleep or at work and I will be on my own again to deal with all of the household problems, keep up with the kids, etc. and it will all fester inside until I really can't take it anymore and end up a bumbling, crying idiot that can't deal with their situation and people will have to take my kids again for a few days while I recover. And after I'm done, Paul says, "Well, I guess I will get dressed and go over and get him because I know you and you won't be able to keep your mouth shut if you go over there to pick him up", sits there for a second, then hangs up.

And that's when I realize that absolutely nothing I just said, nothing I will ever say, and nothing I have ever said in the past has ever been taken seriously by those in my house. And the tears start to roll down my face involuntarily right there out in the open at football practice in front of a bunch of people I do not know watching their kids play football in the rain. I thank God no one was near enough to hear the conversation I just had with Paul and that they are far enough away that they won't notice I'm crying because of the rain coming down. And the thought crosses my mind that I'm really not needed, that the kids and Paul would be better off and happier if I just dropped Levi off at home after practice and then left, never to look back. I don't have a job so I can't provide for my family next month when my unemployment runs out, I'm not going to graduate any time soon so I won't be able to find a decent job like I had, and I'm not appreciated so why should I stick around? I'm a failure because for the second time I'm not going to finish my degree. I'm worthless because I can't support my family. And I'm not needed because Paul never wants to talk or spend time with me, the older two boys are always wanting to go to Tommy's and hang out with Pam, and Sam is always at Marcie's house... so why am I sticking around to make their lives shit because mine is?

Then I hear Levi laughing and giggling as loud as he can and look up to watch him for a few minutes. When he turns towards me I can see that he is covered in mud from head to toe with this huge smile on his face and has more energy than I think I have ever seen him have at practice. He gets on the line, gets down in his stance, and when the ball is hiked the biggest kid on his team plows right into him and knocks him flat. He just lays there for a few seconds and doesn't move, and I start to get worried until I realize that he is laughing so hard he can't stand up. And while some of the kids are annoyed with it, the coaches have these huge smiles on their face as they try to be serious while saying, "Come on Davis, get up and get in the huddle - you're a football player, not a duck!"

And I know the reason I am still there and will never leave. I just sit there feeling guilty that I ever even thought about leaving because I'm loving the sound of his laughter that keeps carrying over the football field even though he is getting hit every which way. I start thinking about the first time he laughed uncontrollably when he was a baby and the warmth and happiness I felt when I heard it. And I think about the way Rowdy plays with his ear and sucks his lip and smiles when he gets caught doing it. And I think about Sammy and his big dark brown eyes and his smile and his laugh and the way he never shuts up. And even though I know things aren't going well and haven't been for the last 2-3 years, there has to be silver lining somewhere, right? Something has to change at some point for the better, right?

So many times in the last few years I have asked why God has decided to punish me for one thing or another. I have asked why I can't make the right decisions, and even when I do make the right decision why it just turns to crap. I know I'm not perfect and that I never have been and never will be. But JUST ONCE in my life I would like something to turn out positive instead of turning into a huge mess that I have to try to dig my way out of. I have always felt like I'm digging in quicksand, that no matter how fast I move my hands and try to dig my way up it only had one result - that the faster I moved, the faster I sank. I used to have dreams. I loved music, it was my life. The piano, the saxophone, singing - as long as those things were there I was fine. And knowing that I had that escape kept me going no matter how many people made fun of me for being fat while I was in elementary, middle, or high school. No matter what problems were going on at home, at school, wherever, I always had my music and my goal in life - which was to graduate from college with a Master's Degree in Music Theory and Composition with a minor in Music Performance. And to utilize this education by becoming a music teacher and teaching children to love music as much as I did just as Mr. Fitzpatrick and Mrs. Crowder taught me. But somewhere along the way my world changed, and here I am today wondering where it all went wrong. My saxophone is 13 years gone - pawned after moving to Utah to make a car payment, I have a brand new piano-sized touch-sensitive keyboard sitting in the box that I got from Paul for Christmas 5 years ago this coming December that has only been played once, I never sing anymore in fear of someone hearing me, and I sit lost wondering if I'm ever going to find myself again. Find the true me, the real me that disappeared many years ago. I have not given up hope yet, but with each passing day the little bit of hope that is left seems to fade until someday there will be nothing left. And each failure seems to weigh on me more now than it ever has before, fading the hope faster than any time in the last 31 years.

Well, I have made this long enough, and since I can hardly see through the tears that have been involuntarily falling for the last hour, I'm going to bed in hope that when I wake up in the morning everything will be back on track.

No quote for today. I don't have the energy or the mental capacity at this moment to add one.