The Family Tree

While we were eating breakfast this morning, Steven pointed out that I'd lied on here, my blog. He informed me, rather smartly I might add, that I'd said I was going to post and had neglected to do so. I was mildly surprised he'd even read it, though I'm not sure why.

So, anyway... on to the update!



First--a little "so here's how the new living situation is going" commentary. You all know I rather expected it to be horrible. In fact, I looked forward to their arrival with such dread I scarce knew HOW I was going to survive the actual meeting. The inital arrival was quite stressful for me. There were people in my house, my aunt, the cousin herself and a strange man I'd never met. The cat hated our dogs and nearly flayed us alive trying to escape them.

Then, the next morning, when I woke, I looked out the window and there were four cars in the drive. All night, Steven and I had whispered, trying not to be too loud for our new house-guests...house-partners?...Steven had already left for work, and I hadn't felt so alone in some time. I called my Dad and was outside on the phone when a strange vehicle pulled up. I felt my mouth drop open.

More people! Here to help them move in! ( I didn't mind that part, but the FIRST rule we'd all decided on was to put all visitors through each other.) When Steven arrived home, he was quietly livid, and had a little chat with L, reminding her of said agreement.

I watched that conversation from a distance, and felt my heart sink further. This was going to suck. I could just tell....

And, then, just like that, everything switched all around.

We've had group family dinners(L and Steven take turns cooking).

We've played board games: (Her man, C, MUST cheat, because he always seems to win).

We've played video games...L and Steven kick my tail at these...I bump into a lot of walls on MarioKart.

We've watched movies.

They've come with us to the dog park.

We've laughed.

We've washed the dishes.

They've snuggled my boys.

We've talked and gone out to eat and shared stories(they've come from Vegas straight to good ol' Tennessee...).

All in all, we've really enjoyed one another.

And, when we're done, we all go our separate ways.


That being said, there's only one problem we've bumped into: DD.

Slowly, Steven and I have started re-introducing DD into our lives. Only the most serious offenses are spankable--or the ones that I can't seem to let go of my guilt over. This has been taking place so slowly, we've scarce noticed. We were both so comfortable with it before, that it coming back felt more like putting on a comfy pair of sweats than going and buying a new pair of shoes. Familiar, instead of something that needed to be looked at and cleaned and put up on a shelf.

Unfortunately, in our house, despite the fact that they live upstairs, you can hear EVERYTHING. That being said, there's no WAY that skin slapping skin or a wooden spoon connecting solidly with bare bottom wouldn't be heard.
The "silent" implements are really too extreme for most offenses, and the "silent" punishments are usually--USUALLY--things to kind of "tide you over" until the real discipline can be seen to. And, ya know--all four of us? We're really just home-bodies.

Now, it's possible that L knows. I feel certain that at some point I've shared that information with her. Back in the day, when we were closer.

But, there's a difference in knowing and hearing.

And, let's just say, by all rights, I've certainly got a spanking coming.

I was totally out of line today. I snapped, my attitude was atrocious, I screamed at him. Blue-dog hid in the closet. And, worse, I committed one of Steven's least favorite sins: I used people as a buffer to prevent a spanking.

This predicament should leave me pleased. I can't be spanked, after all, right?

Instead, I feel guilty and uneasy. Blegh. Ideas?

One Frustrated Fur-Momma

Do NOT bring your dog aggressive dogs to an off-leash dog park.

It says that, right on the front gate.

That means, if your dog is going at my Boxer, through the gate, before you even get him off leash or let him in:

Don't let him in. (Does that look like a face that should be attacked?)

If you get your dog in the dog park, and it is snapping and growling and its hackles are up:

Take him back out.

If you have two German Shepherds that are huge and behaving in such a manner:

Get them out faster.

Ya'll know I don't have a problem with big dogs. I really don't. In fact, they're my "dogs of choice." But, for crying out loud! These people! (He's cute. You can say it. Sweet Diesel boy).

That DOESN'T mean take them off their leash and let them go after my eight year old Great Dane.

That DOESN'T mean watch as they go after him with teeth bared and hackles raised, sounding like a chain saw. (Does he look up to defending himself from bratty dogs, uncontrolled by their stupid owners? Of course not. He's all love.)

It sure doesn't mean watch as they broadside him into the mud, and only allow him up to limp away, bleeding from the tail and his legs scraped up and covered in mud.

And, for God's sake, if all that DOES happen--

TAKE THEM OUT THEN.

Do NOT leave them in the park to torment my babies!!

Blue-dog is ok. His tail is the worst scraped, and his joints are a little sore. Thankfully, we gave him a puppy pain pill and rinsed out his scrapes. His precious tail has lost some hair, and he's tired and sore. But, thankfully, he's ok.

I apologize for this completely unrelated to anything rant.

But, I'm not a dog hover mom. I believe dogs will mostly work it out themselves if given half a chance.

EXCEPT with Blue-dog. He's my rescue puppy..my old love. My cuddle-bug during the day when I'm the only one in bed.

He's my sweetheart who stays right by me, walking at the dog park, rather than out mingling. Every now and then, he'll play, but mostly, he just wants me or Steven.

And, I can't handle him getting picked on.

Rant over.

Sorry again.

Tomorrow, I'll post an update on life in general or something and leave the dog park rants to some other frustrated fur-momma.

Cross Your Fingers, We'll Need It

SOOO much has happened since my last post. For real, it's been crazy.

To start with my cousin, T, with her three month old baby came and stayed the week with us last week. She just left yesterday morning. It was a bittersweet week, to be sure. I so enjoyed that baby. I loved waking up and hearing him in the other room, playing. My boxer, Diesel-dog, was a perfect nanny nursemaid. He smelled dirty diapers and snorted, then looked at me like, "Uh, Mom? You wanna do something about this?" and if I didn't get the message, he'd do it again. And again. He would check on Chase periodically, especially if he was sleeping in his play-pen, and the adults were in the other room. I came in at one point because I couldn't find my dog, and there he was, laying beside the play pen, watching carefully. Chase toppled from his bottom onto his stomach, and Diesel leapt to his feet and whined at me until I set the baby back to rights.

I've said before that I work night shift--I worked all this week, so(I didn't get MUCH sleep), but I tried to sleep during the day. Unfortunately, anytime Chase cried during the day, Diesel would leap up onto my bed and frantically lick my face until I woke up. At which point, he would jump from the door to the bed, until I got up to check on the baby myself. Didn't matter if he'd stopped crying. Didn't matter that I told Diesel that T was taking care of him. (I swear, sometimes this dog knows EXACTLY what I'm saying.) When the baby left yesterday morning, Diesel pined. He searched the house, smelt the play pen, and the toy they forgot. He was nearly frantic, poor dear.

(Not my dog, but I doubt T would want her baby plastered all over my blog, and they found this position particularly comfortable.)

However, T was a little difficult for me. Mostly, because I'm very family oriented. I want us to all be doing something together. Dog parks, the library, board games, family movies, what have you. I all but couldn't convince her to leave the television. When her baby was awake, he was stuck there in front of the T.V., same as her. I found it very discouraging. Steven was a life-send though, because he made a formula run at 2:30 am, while I was at work, when T ran out. She texted me, I called him, and he never made one single complaint. He rocked the baby, he cooked dinner holding him, he crooned to him and watched out for him. I think he's going to be a good daddy someday. :) He still managed to juggle cooking us all dinner, packing my lunch, and seeing to the dogs when I ran out of time. I'm telling you, he's been a rock for me this hectic week.

Part of the reason it's been so hectic? My cousin, L, just moved in over top of us last night at 1 am. This has been very difficult for me. Two more polar opposites you've never met. I'm not a health buff, but I certainly care to be relatively fit and clean. She's niether. She refuses to do anything but watch television and play computer games. She and her fiance moved here without jobs, and no jobs on the horizon. Remember J? My ex-stepdad that I'm still close to? Through a very twisted, NOT incestual turn of events, he's her dad-dad. They don't speak. They can't stand one another. She's rude and crude and doesn't have a whole lot going on upstairs.

About a year and a half ago, she was living at home with her mom. She was internet dating a guy from Vermont.They were offered the very house we live in now. She took a sledge-hammer to my dear great grandmother's kitchen table, painted crosses and her name all over the house. Brought in a "witch" to cast a love spell.

I was terribly close to my great-grandmother. It kills me to think how L desecrated this house through all that. Mamaw would have wanted something so different. I've worked very hard, since L turned down the house to move to Vermont, to make it something she'd be proud of. Fast forward. She and the Vermont boyfriend moved back in with her mom. Fast forward again, about two months. She disappeared, alone, in the middle of the night. Computer, gone. Car, gone. Clothes, everything, gone.

Discovered later, she moved to Nevada, leaving a note saying she couldn't live with our family's women anymore. Now, several months after that, she and her new fiance have moved in above me. Without jobs. She entered my house with a cat litter pan and the declaration, "I come bearing cat shit." Those were the first words out of her mouth.

How in God's name are we going to stay here with them? Ugh.Ya'll cross your fingers for me and Steven. We're gonna need it.

A Daddy's Advice--When Your Dad is Insane.

I don't talk much about my father on here. I've hinted at my ex-step-dad. I've mentioned my real dad maybe a few times. This may have given the impression that we aren't close. In reality, that's the farthest thing from the truth.

I love my dad. He's crazy--like, clinically, has the papers to prove it insane. When I was young, I so wanted him to be normal that I shoved him out of my life. Now, we talk every day. It's not a very father-daughter relationship, but I know for a fact that he loves me. And, if I listen, carefully, and with a grain of salt, he has some very good advice and comments. Granted, they're quite...uhm..crude..sometimes, lol, but often, like him, at the heart, they're good.

Today, I've been mulling over mine and Stephen's bumpy waters over the last...well, nearly a year, really. All the ups, all the downs. And I remembbered a conversation that Dad and I had, right at the heart of everything.

I was crying and angry, bitter as gall. "I just...ugh! I hate him sometimes!" I spewed.

"Well, I reckon you do," Dad said in his typical hill-billy drawl.

"And you shouldn't stay with people you hate!" There was a pause. "You disagree?" I asked, all ready to fight, to defend my position.

"Well, I figger you hate everybody at some point. And I figger that's because ain't nobody not gonna let ya down."

"So, you're staying I should stay? I don't know, Dad. I think I just fell in love with the wrong person."

"Bullshit," he answered immediately.

"You don't think I did? He CHEATED, Dad," I reminded him.

"That maybe true. But, ain't what I'm saying is bullshit. You don't fall in love, Grace. That's for the movies. And it's bullshit. You don't fall in love. You fall in shit. You fall in a hole. You fall and bust your ass. You don't fall in love. It's something you work at. It's something you want to give up on. It's something that's damn hard, and spends at least a quarter of the time being a colossal pain in the ass. It's not something you fall in. It's a two way extra job. I don't know if you oughta stay, and I don't reckon that's anyone's choice but yours. But, like with any job, you gotta decide if the pay is worth the stay." A pause, while I considered this and he grumbled, "Fall in love. What a load..."

Today, while I sit at home, waiting on Stephen to come home, I've considered that conversation quite a bit. He and I are going to the library. Just like we did when we were younger. To sit on the lily pads and read kids books, and sign, and laugh 'cause of how awkwardly we signed something that was so obvious, or how well we signed it, should our hands shake off enough rust.

We've laughed more in the last two months than we have in the last year. We've had more heart-wrenching, tear filled conversations than we have ever. I've had nightmares. He's brought me ice cream and flowers. We've gone to dog parks and real parks and had game nights. And, I've loved him.

And he's loved me, better than he ever has.

And, it's been work.

I've decided Dad was right.

You don't fall in love.

You work at it.

Both of you.

And it's hard.

And you cry.

You laugh.

You yell.

You (get)spanked, or spank. (If you are DD, lol. In which case, it is unwise to yell.)

Either way, you work.

And, when that happens?

It works. 

Join My Circus

Firstly, I want to say, this is not a Stephen-related post, so much. We're still doing great; yesterday, we took Blue, Diesel, and Kiesar to the dog park. They had a great time. We met a deaf wife and her husband, and had a very refreshing opportunity to sign again. My hands felt like they'd rusted! It was wonderful to pull that skill out again.

However.

I know that I've vented on this subject before, but sometimes, I want to strangle his little brother. Just for being so damn unappreciative!

It was his birthday this week. His family--who doesn't have a ton of money at the best of times--asked where he wanted to go. He chose Olive Garden. Now, for just the three of them, that's not TOO expensive. But, his family is generous--extremely so. So, they wanted to pay for ours and his aunt's also. Quite a venture.

During this meal, let's call him...M...and I were chatting. He was turning sixteen, and was terribly excited about it. We talked about his girlfriend, and his car, and a million other things. I really enjoyed the time, the conversation, and him. So, I said, "Hey, why don't you come over and stay a night with us this week? I'm off Tues, Wed, Thurs, and we could play games, watch movies--Stephen will cook. We can make a night of it. Want to?"

He said yes emphatically. As the week progressed, we finalized plans to pick him up from school, and also invited my cousin(the one with the baby?). Her baby is sick, but she still said yes, and she's spending the night too.

Last night, we verified the pick up from school plans, and went grocery shopping. We planned for them, what they'd eat, what they liked, what they hated, all of it. Lots of thought and fair bit of money went into tonight's dinner and tomorrow's breakfast. We also spent a considerable amount of time in the game isle, choosing a new game we thought everyone would enjoy. (We went with Cranium, btw. Super excited about THAT.)

This morning, I rolled out of bed at eight(a feat for a nightshift girl), and started cleaning the house and tending the animals. I juggled my dad, who showed up, the dogs, the cat, and the broom. I felt a little like a circus performer: dishes in one hand, head stuck out the door, trying to convince the puppy to pee in a monsoon, dad talking one ear up, the other listening for the washer. One eye to the clock, the other to the floors, trying to decide just how badly they needed mopping. The phone has rung off the hook, to boot, trying to get school applications in, cancelling doctor's appointments, rescheduling, getting the vet records on Kiesar and cancelling his cropping appointment. Plus, work kept calling, trying to get me to work. Feeling a tad frazzled.

And, then, the phone rang again. It was Stephen's mom, asking for him. I asked what was up--she didn't really give me a straight answer, so I gave her Stephen's work number. A few minutes later, he called me.

Instead of picking him up at 3, like planned, they're dropping him off sometime between 7-8. This puts dinner on hold. T will already be here, because we have to go get her at 6. All the games are even teams or four players. It won't do to start a movie, because he'll show up in the middle. And, it's just so frustrating! I feel like I went out of my way--on my day off! My first in a while--I just finished five straight 12's--and it got thrown up in my face. Yeah, he's still coming, but we planned this days ago! He knew what time we expected him! And, despite the fact my house is in the middle of a deep clean, I just want to throw my hands up and quit.

Truth be told, I almost called work back and said, "You know what? Screw it. It's big bonus, right? Right. I'll be there at seven. A four hour? No--hell, just give me the whole twelve."

UGH! The irony? The whole way home from M's b-day dinner, Stephen and I discussed him. How much we loved him to death, but how irritating it was for him to be so unappreciative of the things done for and provided for and sacrified for him. I just want to knock some sense into that sixteen year old brain of his!



P.S. My Dane is terrified of thunder storms, it just started one, and I'm out of puppy Prozac. Add THAT to my earlier mentioned circus act.

Little Dapples of Daylight

*While being tickled fiercely* "Ow, ow, ow, ow, Steven, Steven, Steven, stop! Ow! Ow! That hurts!" *A pause, and a skeptical look*
"Babe. Do you know what happens when you cry wolf?"
"No one believes you anymore?"
"You die."
"What? That's not true!"
"Really? What happened to the boy, when the wolf came back?"
"No one believed him."
"And...so, what happened then?"
"Well....."
"Well? ....That's right. He DIED. You cry wolf, you die. I told you."

"So...what do you want to do today?" ...after lenghty discussion
"I dunno..We could go play at the park."--Me
"Yeah?"--Steven
"Yeah, and we could take a picnic!"
"That sounds good."
"And, the boys! We could take the boys!"
"Uh huh."
"And, put them on slides and take pictures of them!"--Me
"....Uhm....ok...whatever floats your boat."

Looking at a picture of a baby, captioned, "Mmm, the wonderful smell of a baby."
"Babe, come look! Isn't this sweet?" --Me
"'Mmm...the wonderful smell of a baby?'" he snorted. "Sounds very Hansel and Gretel-ish of them."

Long story short, we bought a new fridge, the delivery kept falling through, it was the day of, we knew it wasn't going to fit in our doorway, and I was FREAKING out.
"Babe," Steven said, "Don't worry. I have this covered. I hired someone." Cue narrowed eyes.
"A respectable someone?"
"Yep, licensed, respectable company."
"Oh, yeah? What's it called?"
"...Eric and Sons. It's Eric. And his sons." (I later discovered this was completely fictional, but as my fridge was installed anyway, I didn't mind.)

I switched to night shift. I was off for the night, though, and it was four am.
"Hey, babe?" --Me. Him, snort, snuffle, sniffle.
"Mm?"
"You wanna watch a Nikita?"
"..No."
"Oh." Minutes tick by.
"Babe?"
"Mmm?"
"Are you hungry?"
"No." A heartbeat of silence.
"You mean, you don't want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
"Definitely not."
"Oh. Not even with chips?" A muffled growl. "Babe? What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just...sometimes, you need to be shaken."
"Oh. Is that all?....does that mean your going to make sandwiches?"

"I love you, baby."
"I love you too...what did you do?" Me, laughing.
"Nothing. I'm just saying."

PROOF that I'm beginning to see Dapples of daylight after our recent stormy season. Plus, we have acquired another little lovebug for our small family. That brings us up to a Boxer, a Dane, a cat, and a Doberman. :) Love my boys!

Thanks for hanging in there with us!

~~Grace

It's Been A Minute

Well, guys, it's definitely been a minute since I've posted. I've had to spend quite a bit of time sorting my feelings, mulling over all of the advice I've gotten from you guys, my family, my irl friends. I've had a few say it COULD work.

Some that I need to find my own way.

Most that my relationship is doomed to failure.

And, after much thought and consideration--

After long nights and talks, and fits of rage and tears--

After sneaking in and checking his phone, just to see if maybe he'd lied--

After arguments--

After sex--

After stints without sex--

After a spanking(not a common, we're back to DD-like-nothing-ever-happened kind, but the kind where I smoked and wallowed in my own guilt for days before pretty well asking for the emotional release a spanking could afford)--

After all of it--

I've decided that, in order to leave someone that you love, you have to really have absolutely had it up to HERE. You have to really, truly, honestly feel that you don't have a prayer. (Or, at least, that's my opinion).

But, you know what?

We do.

We have a prayer. And, while I still believe that, I can't leave. Why?

It's not out of some sense of obligation to him or anyone else.

It's because I don't want to. I want this to work. I believe that we can. And, I intend to keep on trying.

(Ahem. Granted. I had quite a bit to say about what would happen if I ever even got suspicious again...but.)

So, we're slowly but surely picking the pieces back up. Some days, I despair of it. Some days, it feels like the good ol' times.

Most days, I see a brand new future.