Welcome to my world!

My life's been crazy since my Daddy moved in with me immediately after my mother's death in October 2010. My one and only kiddo headed to college at Carolina at the end of August. So...I lived on my own, for the first time in my life, for a total of a blissful six weeks. Then, I started the parenting gig with my dad. He's a combination of a grouchy old man, a surly teenager and a temperamental toddler. Needless to say, I get very close to the brink of insanity sometimes. I get through life by finding the humor in difficult circumstances. And for some reason, I wind up in the weirdest situations. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I wind up having lots and lots crazy adventures which make great stories to share with my friends. Writing about my life is so therapeutic. My ramblings range from funny to sad to angry (full of cuss words) to sweet. While my focus is dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a parent to my Daddy, I have lots of random, totally unrelated posts. Whatever's on my mind. I love to make people laugh, and I'm happy to think my readers will get my strange sense of humor. And maybe, people who are in my situation will be encouraged. That's all I can hope for...

Tuesday, May 10, 2011


I just woke up from a nightmare. I was soaked with sweat and on the verge of hyperventilating. My heart was racing.

In my dream, I was trying to find my way out of an old house. I'd gone into it thinking it was charming and just needed some work to restore it. Then I realized how bad it was and I tried to make my way out. It was getting dark and there was no power (maybe someone forgot to pay the MLGW bill). There were endless stairways and the farther down I went, the darker and dustier it became. The steps were rotted and I was afraid I'd fall through them. One broke and that stirred up a thick cloud of dust. That's when I woke up. Trying to breathe.

As I was sitting here thinking about it, I realized that the house was similar to the Baudelaire Mansion in The Series of Unfortunate Events. Which happens to be one of my favorite movies of all time.

When my panic attack passed, my thoughts went to the angry scene with The D yesterday. In last night's post, I said I'd never shouted at him before. Really, though, there were plenty of times we said angry things in loud voices to each other, but then, he was the parent. I wonder if he ever felt as guilty about it as I do now. Probably not.

I also wonder if Kiddo ever feels guilty about the things he says to me. Probably not.

That's the problem, I suppose. Neither of them would ever apologize to me. So many people can't. Or won't. I pride myself on doing it. I have plenty of practice.

Nothing irks me more than an insincere apology. If I hear "if" or "but" after the words, "I'm sorry," my blood boils. Because it's not only NOT an apology, it's an attempt at avoiding responsibility. As in, "I'm sorry if I upset you, but..." This is usually followed by some form of blame-laying.

Forget the qualifiers. If you're sorry, you're sorry. For what you did or didn't do. Own it. You fucked up. That's all you can say. Oh, and please never tell me I'm too sensitive. That's just saying it's my fault.

Ok, enough about how to apologize. I'll put it into action when I see The D later this morning.

In the meantime, I need to figure out a way to get through the summer. Because I can't take the thought of dealing with both a difficult daddler and a churlish teenager for that long. I spent a good 45 minutes talking to Kiddo about the sitch yesterday. Fat lotta good that did. He's gonna have to man up.

Back to my nightmare. I guess it's not too hard to figure out the symbolism. Orphaned children. Caring for Sunny, the baby. Uninhabitable house. And dangerous characters like Count Olaf.

For now, I need to cry some more and try to go back to sleep. And hope most of my events won't be so unfortunate.

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