You know that cabinet you had when you were a kid, or that closet, or that treehouse, that one little place you could crawl into and hide from the world? I miss mine…My husband and I have been fighting a lot lately.
No, Mr.Stalker, we are not on the verge of divorce, so get over your misguided notions of rescuing me from my life. However, we have been disagreeing about money and my current employment status and the way we raise our child and my plans for grad school and pretty much everything that couples fight over in any marriage. This summer, I have come to the conclusion that I must diligently seek out gainful employment once more, if not sooner than that. I do not want to fight with husband, and many of the above listed items of disagreement all stem back to money.
Sometimes, after fighting with him, I have conversations in my head with him. Things like, “I’ll never be good enough for you. I mean, in my mind I know that I deserve much better than how you treat me sometimes. But in your eyes, in your mind, you think I’ll never be good enough for you…” Of course, those statements aren’t entirely true. He doesn’t think that I am not good enough for him. I do not think that I am too good for him. But when we fight I get depressed, and when I get depressed I think awful thoughts. But we make up and we make love and oo la la la life goes on.
As for the raising of our child, it is mostly a disagreement that goes back to my being a stay-at-home mom. He misunderstands the concept. Just because I am home all the time and he is not does not mean his job ends when he punches the clock at Wal-Mart. He forgets that Luna is always the responsibility of both of us, regardless of who works and who does not work outside of the home. But in his defense, I do not do all of things in the home that I have claimed responsibility for. I do not take out the garbage every day. I do not wash the dishes every day. I do not do the laundry every day. I do not clean the floors every day. I do not do those tedious domestic chores because I find more distracting things to do. We both are in the wrong in some ways.
But enough of this depressingness for the moment. In a completely unrelated topic, husband doesn’t see why this is funny to me: OU offers a Doctorate in Organizational Leadership and the only campus where you can get the degree is at their satellite campus in Heidelberg, Germany!
Why was I looking at OU graduate programs in the first place? Well, My professors tell me that I am less likely to get hired as an employee at UAFS if I receive my grad degrees from an ArkansasUniversity. Therefore, UA-Faye, which is a two hour drive from here, is out of the question. Since my city is located on the AR/OK border, I could get my masters from OSU in Tulsa (a two-and-a-half hour drive), from OSU in Stillwater (a three hour drive), from Northeastern in Tahlequah (a one-and-a-half hour drive), or from OU in Norman (a three hour drive). I could then get my Doctorate from OSU in Stillwater, or from OU in Norman.
Since all of those grad programs (including UA-Faye) would require in insane commute, husband did not seem thrilled about idea. Who would watch Luna during my commute became the topic of discussion. After doing further research, I found out that OU in Norman provides a daycare facility for its students, faculty, and staff. Husband thinks I’m crazy for worrying about this now, and nuts for wanting to commute so far, but I need to get my grad degrees. I will graduate with two bachelor’s degrees in May 2010, so I need to be thinking about grad school now.
He is unwilling to relocate, at all, whatsoever, for any reason, so commuting to grad school so I won’t have to commute to work seemed like my only option. Until my friend Evie was kind enough to provide me with another option. She suggested that Luna and I live in campus housing at OU in Norman. Each day, I could put Luna in the on-campus daycare while I tend to my grad studies and to the assistantship I would hopefully get. This option would probably be no harder on me than going to undergrad school is now, because I would of course still need to have my child at home each night, but I would not have to worry about her during my daily routine. We could commute home on weekends and holidays and husband would be able to remain in our house and work at his job.
We’re already arguing because my courses in the fall will be from nine in the morning to two in the afternoon on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and from eleven in the morning to two in the afternoon and five in the evening to seven in the evening on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He feels that a friend of ours would be a reliable sitter, but I do not necessarily agree. I think HE should watch his own damn kid. Staying up til 2p is not going to kill him since he does that anyway for WOWcrack and on Tuesdays and Thursdays when I would have that one night class I could find someone to sit up there with me. He still wants me to be gainfully employed and won’t listen to anything I have to say, so I am considering spitefully getting gainfully employed and spending my whole paycheck on childcare with no money to help with bills.
Working and going to school would give me very little time to spend with my child either way it goes. But I am unwilling to give up on my college education. Evie suggested I get into Plasma donation, but I tend to faint and that wouldn’t take care of my childcare/school issue and it wouldn’t cover bills, because husband figures that each adult is responsible for $300 a month. I probably qualify for vouchers to a state certified daycare that is open from six in the morning until three in the afternoon or some other such inhibiting time slot, but a woman in Fayetteville recently poisoned ten kids with antifreeze she “thought” was Kool-Aid in her in-home state certified daycare.
The children did not die, as far as I know, but it is abuse, assault, and attempted murder. From how I understood the story, she went shopping the day before, bought a bunch of stuff, “accidentally” put the blue liquid gallon jug in the fridge. One thought I had was, in-home daycares are supposed to have the daycare food separate from their own food, so if the antifreeze was in her fridge, it shouldn’t have been given to the kids even if the label was missing, because the “koolaid” should have been stored in the daycare mini-fridge. I don’t think the label was missing, but even giving the woman the benefit of the doubt still shows a lack of common sense on her part. Then again, common sense is an oxymoron.
What if everyone did stuff like this? Oops, that wasn’t powdered sugar! Oops, that wasn’t salt! Oops, that wasn’t milk! Car-chemicals go in the car. My kid has eaten things she ought not to have, but to the best of my knowledge she’s never been poisoned. Luna eats old food a lot which is icky. I take it from her when I can, but she hides stuff. But old French-fries aren’t as dangerous for her as antifreeze would be. So what if I don’t put Luna in a state-certified daycare? What if I find another option? I could send Luna to a church daycare, but they are also open only certain hours. Also, I am not to thrilled with the idea that they might be brain-washing my child into conforming to their closed-minded conservative agenda.
In an attempt to relieve myself of the aforementioned stresses for a bit, the other morning Luna and I made a trek to one of the local McDonald’s the other morning. This chick at McDonald’s was talking about how she loves her king size bed because three or four hours a night she sleeps in her toddler’s bed. She wasn’t talking to me so I didn’t ask her why she would sleep in her toddler’s bed, but I’m guessing she’s an Attachment Parent. I, as you may well know, am not an Attachment Parent. In fact, my friend Evie coined the phrase, “un-Attachment Parent” to refer to those of us who believe in cutting the cord and letting the kid learn some freedom and independence. We still love our kids, but we give them room to breath and grow, so that they aren’t constantly whining for us all day long when we’re gone, and so that they can sleep alone in their rooms without nightmares, and so that they can grow up with the ability to be their own person.
I went to McDonald’s in the first place so that Luna could go on the play area. I ordered an egg buiscut thingy and two hashbrowns and a small water and a small Dr.Pepper. When I got to my table, and opened my egg biscuit, it was a bagel with egg, cheese, and ham. I neglected to mention it though because the only reason I ordered the egg bisuit is that anything fancier would have been too much money; I only had a five on me. Someone was probably pissed about their egg cheese and ham bagel turning into an egg biscuit.
The McDonald’s was really busy. We didn’t stay long, cause the AP chick and a bunch of her friends or relatives or whoever they were were all crowding the play area like it was a party except it wasn’t a party cause the party room was unoccupied. Probably just a saturday ritual of theirs. The bigger kids they brought were trampling the little kids in the tubes, and Luna was hitting the other kids. She went up the tubes and down the slide once, and tried to climbe the platforms but after getting to the top one, she noticed I didn’t follow her, so she wanted back down; AP mom was up there and said “are you going to come get her?” Which bothered me cause I weigh 250someodd lbs right now and I have no idea what the weight limits are on those things, but AP mom looked like she weighed 90lbs, so I climbed halfway up and AP mom handed Luna down to me, even though Luna is smart enough to have done it herself.
These two chicks who looked to weigh 400-500lbs were watching me climb the platforms and I saw them saying that I shouldn’t be climbing it. When Luna tried to run out into the main part of mcdonald’s one of the managers was like “oh, we should probably have a baby gate there, huh?” and I was thinking “or close the damned adjoining door!” And then other people were randomly staring at me and Luna while we were there, which all just worked together to freak me out. I’m not agoraphobic, but I do have issues with crowds, especially when you can tell they’re looking at you/talking about you.
I recently hacked much of my hair off and dyed the rest red and started wearing red lipstick and red nails to school, and then I felt all weird when people commented/complimented. I am a people watcher too, which is kind of counterintuitive, but I don’t just stare exactly, I just like observing. If I’m sitting at the edge of a crowd, like say a booth in a resteraunt, where I have a vantage point that keeps people from catching my eye, I like to watch the social dynamics without all the unpleasantnesss of being a part of the world. I like to do things like wonder “why does that old very white chick have three small black kids with her? Are they her children? Grandchildren? Students? Charges? Neices and Nephews? Friend’s kids? Or is she holding them for ransom?”
Or wonder what conversation is going on at a table across a room that caused a person to snort milk out their nose. Or guess if the two men who just walked in are business partners or sexual partners. Or guess the ages of people. And sometimes I do judgy things too, like “wow, that chick really isn’t doing justice to spandex” Or “gee, that man is wearing a wedding ring but that woman isn’t. Or “why is that woman eating three cheeseburgers by herself?” I like if I can maybe not be seen but still be able to observe, fly in the wall, telescope in the belltower. You know, innocent observers.
But I most certainly would never go up to a person and talk shit about them so that they could know my feelings towards them. I am a woman, currently sporting a shoulder-length red hairdo, short red nails, red lip-stick, holey jeans, a baggy t-shirt, black socks and shoes, three tattoos, and my heart out on my sleeve, and if people cannot accept or at least feign some resemblance of tolerance for my unique personality quirks and quarks and quasars then they can, to put it quite literally and bluntly, go fuck themselves with their boyfriend’s disembodied limp dick!
Tim McGraw–One of these days you’re gonna love me. You’ll sit down by yourself and think. About the times you pushed and shoved me. And what good friends we might’ve been. And then you’re gonna sigh a little. Maybe even cry a little but. One of these days you’re gonna love me.
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