Constantinople. It's fun to say. Just hard to read.

I mentally beat myself up on just about a daily basis when it comes to homeschooling.  Even though my tragic public school teaching days are far behind me, the fear of failure is never far from my thoughts.  I have fought this emotional battle for years.  I shared my fears with friend and fellow homeschooling momma Deanna a couple of years ago.  She commiserated with me and then shared one of the most inspiring and poignant pieces of advice when it comes to homeschooling:

Even on the worst of homeschooling days, never forget that it was YOU, and YOU ALONE, that taught your child to read.  The most important gift you can ever bestow upon your child is the gift of literacy.  A proficient reader can do anything they set their mind to - and YOU made that happen.

Well.  I just turned out my first reader.  I can't take credit for Jordan since he was in public school for kindergarten and first grade, but I will take credit for Rylan.  But it just feels wrong to say that.  Rylan did all the work.  She rarely complains (unless it is late in the afternoon and she is 'done' with schoolwork).  She worked through the workbooks, the readers, the phonics videos, and the best reading program in the world: Reading Eggs.  Things just started to click in the last several weeks, and lo' and behold we have a reader!

The sad thing is that I didn't even know she could do it.  I came into Rylan and Colin's room to change Colin into his pj's last night, and there was Rylan, reading Hop on Pop, out loud, to herself.  And she was really reading it.  No mistakes.  I think I have only read this book to her maybe...once?  And not in the past several months, either.  We have a bajillion books at home, and when you couple that with a bajillion library books, it is hard to read something more than once.

I was just absolutely astonished.  I didn't say a word.  I just kept listening to her read.  I was afraid to disturb her...it was sort of like spotting wildlife.  If you snap a twig they will run away.

I am so excited to phase in some new literacy stuff with her now.  First up: sounding out big words. 

Like Constantinople.  It's fun to say.  Just hard to read.

And now, by virtue of association (and because we are fans of TMBG around here) I offer this for your viewing and listening pleasure:

There's a badge for that...

Last night I attended a meeting for volunteer Unit Leaders at our area's Girl Scout day camp that is scheduled to start in about three weeks.  It was already at the end of a long, long day, and even though I had a coffee to pull me through, I was thoroughly irritated after spending just five minutes in this room of chatty ladies, waiting for the meeting to start.  Then my angst hit a new level when a 40-something Brownie-wanna-be sat next to me.  She was even dressed in brown and green.  Tacky.  She had a shoulder bag with her.  This bag was not just any bag, thankyouverymuch.  It was a patch-hoarders dream!!  And all of the near-by ladies hovered over her (I even had to scoot back so some other ladies could lean over), squealing with delight over her bragfest collection.  This lady even put Isabella, an extremely prodigious Fireside Girl, to shame.  There were so many patches that there was nary a spot of plain fabric to be seen.  There were even special patches from a unit in California.  Special.  Don't confuse my sarcasm with jealousy.  Nope.  It's just pure, unadulterated annoyance at anyone who feels like they need to advertise their scouting achievements to such a heightened degree, of... gaudiness?  embroidery overkill?  Is she really that in need of recognition?  Isn't scouts for (ahem) the girls?

I guess I am just annoyed with all things patches, record-keeping, scheduling, planning, and just Girl Scouting in general. 

Can you tell?

"Sexy"

Am I the cruel type of mom that will post her 12 yr old son's first love note for all of the "internets" to see? 

Why yes.  Yes I am.

But not for the reason that you might think.  I am not out to embarrass him or make him feel bad... it just makes for good blog fodder!!  I will have to make my case for non-embarrassment pretty air-tight though, because that boy is getting more internet-savvy by the day, and he will find his own way to this blog sooner or later.

Back to the note.

We homeschool.  No note-passing in these parts unless you count the endless love notes Rylan writes to her brothers on a daily basis.  We don't do any outside enrichment classes as of late.. not even Sunday school.  Nope.  Never the less, this note-passing thing happened, yesterday, in karate of all places.  Not during class though (that would have been amusing), but afterwards, as everybody was trying to squeeze out the door.  A boy came forward and pressed the note into Jordan's hand.  He was obviously the messenger, and I think he had an idea of the note's contents, because he just couldn't get away fast enough.

Jordan and I were in the middle of a discussion about a scheduling headache this coming weekend with belt promotions and a boy scout campout happening simultaneously.  (I will have to drive an hour up into the mountains on Saturday to retrieve him, deliver him to karate to go through his testing, and then drive him back to camp.  All without knowing exactly where he will be camping.  Good times are a-comin' this weekend!

Back to the note.

As I said - we were in the middle of logistics when this note landed in his open hand.  He opened it and turned beet-red about 5 seconds later.  He must have read the 'sexy' part.  He then handed ME the note because it must have been causing mild burns on his hand or something...

Now stop right here - what 12 year old boy, in his right mind, would shove a love note that he received into his parent's hand?  Our sweet (and maybe a little too innocent, when it comes to these things) Jordan, that's who!  This right of passage was just thrust upon him and he had no idea what to do with it.  I love, love, love, that he invites us in to help him navigate this turn of events.  I cringe at the sad thought of countless pre-teens, all faced with this eventual scenario, who just thrust the note into the back of the sock drawer, and hope it will all go away.  They walk downstairs and hardly utter a word during dinner.  Their mind is working away the whole while, dreading going back to school the next day.  All because somebody 'likes' them.  These are big feelings and no wonder kids don't know what to do with them!

I'm not an idiot, I knew exactly what the note was going to be about.  You just 'know'.  I just held its small folded-self in my hand as we finished our discussion.  First - I wasn't going to give the note-giver any more of the satisfaction of watching Jordan read it and be further embarrassed.  Second - I hope they saw it land in my hands.  Muah-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!!  The evil parent now holds the note!!!  Oh, the horror!!!  And to think she took it straight home and POSTED IT ON HER BLOG!

When we got into the car, I gave it back to Jordan (without opening it), and innocently asked, "So.  What does it say?".  He got as far as... "I love you Jordan.  you've got a secret lover."  Then he handed it back to me, embarrassed again, and asked me to finish reading it because he didn't want to read the next word...."Sexy".

Two things.

1.  She used the gross terminology "secret lover".  WHO says that?  She must be reading her mom's trash novels.

2.  She used 'you've' correctly.  At least she has that going for her!

The note finishes out with directions on where to leave a note for her in return (in an 'emty shoe cuby at karatie'), along with the indication that she was not going to share her name.  She now loses all credibility with me because she can't even spell 'karate' correctly.  Yes, I know.  I'm a spelling-Nazi.  Can't help it.

So that leaves poor Jordan with the burning question of: "WHO is his secret lover??"

On this particular day there were four possible candidates.  One of which he likes very much, and has for quite awhile.  But I don't think it is her.  She doesn't look like the type who would use the words - secret lover.  I do think she likes him too, though.  Her dad is aware of the situation too because he always gives me a knowing smile when he arrives to pick her up at the end of class.  We have this unspoken agreement:  We approve.  We will rotate holidays and welcome grandchildren in about 18 years' time.

So that leaves the other three, all of which seem equally likely to use secret lover, which is why I don't like them.  What unsocialized homeschooler uses that word?  Oh yeah...the 'socialized' ones.

That is what makes this whole situation so ridiculously funny to me.  Yes, part of the reason we homeschool is to shelter our kids from the pressures of growing up too fast.  So here we are, seeking to dodge this kind of stuff, and it happens anyway.  You can't win!!  It is harmless at this point - maybe even a little 'cute', but it is actually painful to watch Jordan grapple with this sort of thing.  He's growing up...and there is no way to stop it.

Be prepared.

The day will come when your kids all of a sudden become 'older'.  Here, on this eve of Jordan's twelfth birthday, the heart of the matter of what has been really bothering me lately has revealed itself.  Jordan is at the age where he should be the one to resolve his own interpersonal issues, (long, dramatic pause) and I am having a hard time of letting go of my former role in this.  He is also of the age where other adults and, more importantly - peers, will have influence on his decision-making.  I am having difficulty in accepting this as well.

 

 

For parents of public schooled kids, it comes with the territory.  You have become accustomed to your child being away from your direct influence for a good part of the day.  (there is no judgement here, just simple observation).

For parents of homeschooled children, you get so used to calling the shots that when another adult steps in or a peer exhorts an extraordinary amount of influence, it can be difficult to take...even alarming at times. 

I am not prepared.  Not in the least.  But I better get used to it.  Even embrace it.  Because the day is here.

The iPod Shuffle



When it comes to technology around the house, a trickle-down effect is in play.  Dean gets "X" gadget, and then when he is ready to move on to something newer, the gadget gets passed on to me.  And then to Jordan.  And then to Rylan.  And now, on to Owen. 

Dean has his Android phone.  He is up for renewal later this month, and he is debating about what he wants.  Probably the new Android.  Last renewal period was my turn (last August) and I opted for the iPhone.  Which meant that I would pass on my iPod touch (originally Dean's) on to Jordan, and my phone (originally Dean's) on to my father-in-law, who wanted a phone to tinker with (long story).  Jordan has been waiting patiently for the "iPod shuffle" to happen.  It's been 8 months.  I don't know why it took so long... I am just inept when it comes to technology.  And I am also lazy.  So the thought of getting every last bit of info off of the Touch seemed daunting.  Sunday evening just morphed into this effort to finally get the iPod into Jordan's hands, so I set to work.  It took *maybe* thirty minutes.  Dean wiped it, reloaded it with Jordan's music library that he originally had on his iPod classic, set up Jordan's email (wi-fi) and the iPod Touch was his.  It is now a permanent extension of his hand.  He has emailed his dad (while he is at work) about fifteen times already in the past day and a half, and played Angry Birds every second not otherwise occupied by schoolwork.

Rylan has now inherited the iPod Classic.  The battery, unfortunately, seems to be shot.  It will only hold a charge for about an hour.  Dang.  In the meantime, the tiny iPod shuffle is now Owen's, who is a true music aficionado.  He *loves* Coldplay, Adele, U2, They Might be Giants, Lady Gaga, Foster the People, Mumford and Sons and others..  Yesterday morning was strange, as the kids wandered around the house, captivated by their new 'toys'.

I'm not ready for the 'insert-headphones-ignore-your-parents-and-everybody-else' stage of childhood yet.  Although I will confess that I did slip Jordan some headphones in church last week.  He was playing a math game on my phone, and after a few problems they slip in a short video clip about some science or nature, and then resume the math problems.  He was actually trying to listen to it by turning the volume up, so in a quick act of desperation I shoved my headphones in his hand.  And then regretted it because this is the boy who never remembers to clean his ears.  Gross.

I am opposed to kids always being plugged into something.  I only ever allow it when desperate times call for it.  The doctor's office.  Bored children sitting in church.  (Hey, can I play too??), long car rides...  I don't like it at restaurants, but if they have been polite during the meal and finished their food, and if the adults are talking and talking and talking, then I don't blame them.  I would be bored too - so there is nothing wrong with a little entertainment.  But sitting at home, it seems ridiculous.  Yet, when I think about how many times a day I whip out my phone to play Words with Friends or check out Facebook, I feel a little ridiculous too.

I think I am going to need a pry bar to get the Touch out of his hands at this point...



Simple Woman's Daybook Entry



Outside my window... It is 6:28 a.m. and the sprinklers are running, the birds are chirping all over the neighborhood and the sun is peaking up over the trees in the distance.  I have a window open (so I could hear the birds) and it is still very breezy and cool.

I am thinking... That the neighbors across the street really tick me off.  I don't like the fact that they run their sprinklers every.  damn.  morning.  (because they use so much water).  They also wash both their cars every week - sometimes twice.  And their lawn is a beautiful lush green.  That makes me jealous beyond words... our little patch of brown-green drabness will never look that nice.  sigh.

I am thankful... That Dean and I got to go see Sal Khan (creator of Khan Academy) at a speaking engagement at Denver University on Friday evening.  It.  was.  awesome.  I am going to do a whole post about it because I have a lot to say.

I am also thankful for wonderful, creative friends... one of which gave me an award this week!

Thank you Amanda!! I was very touched by your kind words.  :)

Here is a snippet about what the award is about: The Liebster Award is a blog award given to bloggers with less that 200 followers with blogs of note. The title, Liebster, is a German word translating roughly to 'favorite.'  I am to pay it forward and pass this award on to my favorites as well.  I may need an extra week to get this accomplished.


From the Learning Rooms... We managed a lot of math this week and not much else.  The May calendar is from hell!  Jordan did go to Scratch Wednesday (in downtown Denver) for the first time, so Wednesday was shot anyway.  Scratch Wednesday is a time for kids to get together and compare notes, get ideas, show what they have created and so forth - - all in regards to the Scratch program that kids can use to create neat stuff on the computer.  Two of Jordan's friends were there - E and L, who have helped pave the way for Jordan to become involved in the game Minecraft.  E (who just turned 11) had designed and built his own server over the last year-and-a-half.  Jordan is learning so much from him.  They have known each other for almost six years now, and it's nice to see that a true friendship is starting to form - which is a very, very good thing for Jordan.  It has been a long and lonely year.   While Jordan was at his two hour Scratch 'class', I took the kids to the zoo, which is only a few blocks away from where he was.  I came back to collect him and then we went back to the zoo to spend a very lovely afternoon.  The morning was just insane because the place was overrun by school kids, but in the afternoon we nearly had the place to ourselves.  AND  I even parked TWICE and DID NOT get a parking ticket.  Amazing.

In the kitchen... Last night I made a pizza.  The dough turned out better than it has in a long, long time.  (I use a bread machine).  Rylan pulled a chair up to the counter and sliced black olives for me.  She ate four for every one that she sliced.  Just then my stepmom dropped by to pick up something, and the kids just mobbed her with the news of all that they had to share (you know, the mundane stuff like: "LOOK!  I HAVE A LIBRARY BOOK!  LOOK!  I HAVE A COOL BLUE CAR!  LOOK!  I HAVE A BLACK OLIVE ON MY FINGER!")  Every thing they had to say had to be expressed at the 90 decibel level.  Also, using the chair to climb onto the counter so they could be at eye-level seemed like the best way to achieve further emphasis, so both boys were on the island counter, shouting over each other to be heard.  In the meantime, I spread the sauce on the pizza, sprinkled on the cheese and the toppings and it was ready to put in the oven.  I removed the boys from the counter.  I turned to grab the oregano, and when I turned around, there was Colin, on the counter again, and he had just accidentally stepped onto the pizza.  He lifted his foot (now covered in sauce and cheese) and as I lifted him off the counter again, he put his foot down on the pizza and pushed.  The whole pan flew off of the counter and landed buttered-side down.   Crap.  There went our dinner!  I scraped it off of the floor, spread it all around the pan and baked it.  Dog hair and all.  At least Abby isn't in full shed yet.  I promise that if you come over for dinner, I will mop the floor before I cook.  That way, if I have to scrape it off the floor and put it back in the pan, it won't be all covered in kitchen-floor-grossness.

I am wearing... pjs.  I really need new pjs.  These are the ones I wore when I went into the hospital to deliver Rylan.  That was almost six years ago to the day.  It's time.   Hmmm.  Mother's Day is coming up, isn't it??  Hmmm?




I am creating... Two birthday cakes this week.  Jordan's is simple.  It's his favorite, year-after-year: chocolate black-out cake.  Rylan wants a doll cake.  God help me.  We looked at about two hundred doll cakes yesterday, trying to find something she liked.

She would like something like this:

www.cakejournal.com

If I tried that, if would look like this:

I don't exactly have mad skillz when it comes to cake decorating.  We'll see.  The worst that could happen is that I would wind up on Cake Wrecks.  Although they say they only make fun of the professional cakes.

I am going... This week is nuts.  It's Birthday Week.  Things don't really heat up until Thursday.  And then it is a solid 72 hours of GO!GO!GO!  I can't wait for Sunday.


I am wondering... How difficult it really is to make fondant. I don't think I am brave enough to try it. Plus, I heard it tastes yucky.

I am reading... I've given up on The Brightest Star in the Sky, by Marian Keyes.  I am just frustrated because it doesn't seem to be going anywhere.  I am instead going to pick up where I left off with The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, and finish that series off.

I am hoping... That the Spring Camporee that Dean and Jordan went on this weekend went well.  I'm tense and bracing myself in case it didn't.  Things have been less than stellar with scouts, lately.


I am looking forward to... (Sunday?)  I am looking forward to Jordan turning 12 on Wednesday, a nature outing with a friend on that day while Jordan goes on a field trip, book club with the girls on Thursday, Homeschool Day at the amusement park on Friday, and Rylan turning 6 on Saturday. 

I am learning... More about all of the fabulous things Jordan can learn on Khan Academy.  Dean has already set himself up as a coach, I need to add myself as well, plus create an account for Rylan.


I am hearing...  No more birds.. :( The neighborhood is absolutely quiet. Usually some idiot is mowing by now... Ahhh. I'll enjoy this while it lasts. (It is now 8:15. This post has taken nearly two hours??)  Rylan just got up and is now sitting at the desk behind me, illustrating a story in her composition book.



Around the house... I am going to put in the tomatoes today, as soon as Dean gets home and helps me get the frame in.  And no, I will not be using the same straw this time...

I am pondering... How scouts just exacerbates all of the social issues (covert bullying, ostracism, inappropriate age-related topics of discussion), that we are purposely avoiding by homeschooling in the first place.  Dean and I are sort of at odds about this.  As Assistant Scoutmaster, Dean is unable to intervene on Jordan's behalf.  I am unable to intervene due to personal reasons.  I am just so frustrated for Jordan.  No boy is willing to give him a chance because of how they perceive him (hyper and clown-like at times).  And they base their perceptions on the opinions others... so it is just this perpetual cycle.  It is not Jordan's fault that he is who he is.  It is not Jordan's fault that he still struggles with appropriate physical and emotional boundaries - he gets a lot of coaching from us, but ultimately he is in charge of his self-management.  He still has a lot of maturing to do.  Several of those boys do.  Yet when Jordan is consistenly passed over or chosen last, when (as current Patrol Leader) the entire patrol pays him no attention during patrol time and instead wanders off because of the intentional encouragement of another, it leaves Jordan in a hellish perpetual state of "What's wrong with me??"  Dean insists that it is Jordan's battle (within himself) to fight and conquer his inappropriate behaviors and ultimately find his place within the group.  I just feel protective and want the cliqueishness to stop (they are worse than girls!!).  Dean was like Jordan at his age so he relates to Jordan's struggle as something that he will eventually grow out of - and be all the stronger for it.  I experienced the ostracism that Jordan does - and I am not the stronger for it.  It hurts to this day.  I hurt when I hear about what is happening... and I know I am projecting my own personal feelings into this mess, and I don't know how to do otherwise.  It just sucks in every way you look at it - and I am taking a huge personal risk even discussing it here... yet it has been on my mind for months.  And this is my personal place to bring my troubles and lay them down, so I guess it is time.

One of my favorite things... Now I am in such a mood that it is hard to handle this question.  Hmm.  The quiet of the house in the mornings.  I need to return to that peaceful state asap.

A few plans for the rest of the week... Well, I guess I already talked about that, didn't I?  Rylan is having her very first 'friend' birthday party.  She is inviting all of her daisy scout friends.  I need to think about party favors and doll cakes and decorations.  Even though I don't want to.  It makes my head hurt.  Jordan isn't having a party because 'I don't really have any friends!' (his words, not mine).  Yes he does, but they are all very different from each other and a 'party' per se would be awkward.  He will invite his friend, Henry, to come along to Rylan's gymnastics party.  He will get to play Minecraft to his heart's content with his friend E., and go and see a movie with his best friend Abbi.  As long as he has his chocolate cake, he's happy.  We will do a nice family dinner out on his birthday as well.


Here is a picture for thought I am sharing...

Rylan on the carousel at the Denver Zoo

Hope you all have a good week.  It is now 9:40am  Can I be done now?  I think so.  :)




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Telling off the Universe...

I met an old acquaintance at a coffee shop last night for the purpose of swapping stories about our common experience of loss.  Our dads, who are old colleagues, realized that their daughters had similar stories and should really get together.  My story: eight years ago my ex husband (after eleven years of being together) abruptly left me after only 16 days of marriage.  Her story: last year her live-in boyfriend of eleven years abruptly left her after she pressured him to make a decision - she wanted marriage and a family.  (she is 36).  She is still struggling the with heartache and trying to move on.

Well.... it's not that easy moving on.  I'm eight years into my journey and I can tell you it is not easy.  Having a wonderful husband and four children to love have most certainly helped, but it is still not easy.  Furthermore, not everyone can 'move on' in the same manner.  Each perceived situation is different.  I was dealing with intense feelings of betrayal and humiliation.  My friend feels lost and confused.  Neither of us ever received adequate explanation of why the relationship ended.  One moment he was there, and the next moment he was gone.

For me, the best coping mechanism I could come up with in the immediate days afterward was the idea that he was dead - because that is what it felt like.  One day he was in my world, and the next he wasn't.  It didn't help matters that this person who I loved was actually still walking in this world, but since he was not communicating with me, it felt very much like he was gone...never to return.  Then the odd thought came to me.. what happens to the love?  I loved this person!  I had just married him three weeks prior!  What happens now?


My friend brought up the same question as well.  She is currently fighting her way out of that black hole of loss.  She loves him, and doesn't know how to stop - even after a years' time.  Oh my goodness my heart just aches for her... because I lived this journey too.  After months of living in that swirling vortex of "What now?", I found out the truth: he had left me for someone else - someone he had been with months before we got married.  Now I had the reason I was looking for to stop loving him.  It was such a relief to be able to cut that cord and offer myself the opportunity for a new life, and a new identity.

"L" is such a beautiful person - and she has done a lot of wonderful things in her life.  She is an operating room nurse and frequently takes part in mercy medical operations.  She uses her vacation time to travel to third world countries to offer her services.  Last year she went to Haiti (and came home with a horrible lung infection) and Sierra Leone.  I told her that I envied her in a way.  She was now single, and would have the opportunity to travel and maybe make a new life for herself abroad.  She told me she envied me: I had found love again and was a mother to four kids.  I suppose the grass is always greener someplace else.  It's not that I regret my life AT ALL - but I am sure, as many women can attest to, that once you are tied down with the burdens and responsibility of family, the looming desire for escape always haunts you.  Whether it be at the bottom of a wine glass, the spa, MNO, the weekend get-away or (gasp) the milkman.  For me, all I need is an hour or two of intelligent conversation to recharge my batteries.  Thank goodness for that.

After three hours of sifting through our thoughts and feelings we both walked away feeling like a burden had been lifted.  She is the first person I have been able to talk to - in all these eight years - about some of the deepest, darkest feelings I experienced, and still deal with from time-to-time.  It is nice to have someone who truly understands what it feels like (apart from my mother).  I was supposed to be there for her, but it ended up that we were there for each other.

On the way home, I had several thoughts swirling around in my head.

1.  I still have a lot of healing to do.  I operate in the fear mode on a daily basis.  My biggest fear is that I will lose again.  I feel paranoid at times - like I don't deserve this happiness and that 'life' will come along at any moment and take it all away from me.  I'm afraid to get too close to people, because I will just get hurt again (and gosh this keeps happening!!).  I'm afraid to share because of what people will think of me.  It's nice to have the anonymity of the web.  I try not to think of the handful of people I know who read this blog (hello to my four or five fans out there... well, you're family.  You have to like me.)  I try instead to think of the potential reader who maybe has a similar story to tell.  Who needs to hear that she is not alone.  Who needs to hear how someone else is trying to cope.  That is how I try to convert my fear into love.

2.  Love is neither created or destroyed.  In answer to the question: "What happens to the love?", I think that it just changes form - similar to the concept of energy.  Love is energy.  The love you have for your child drives you to feed him, hug him, chase after him when he runs into the street, ache for him when he hurts and search endlessly for ways to make him happy.  When you experience loss - either through death or divorce, that love just changes form.  You channel that energy in another direction.  You establish a memorial fund, you take on a new vocation, you devote that loving attention on yourself instead, for a time.  I think that was how I found my release.  I took that energy and I used it on myself.  I painted walls.  I bought new furniture.  I lost weight.  I read books.  I went for hikes.  I spent time with friends.   I kept busy juggling three jobs.

3.  I am a lucky, lucky girl to have been able to cross to the other side.  I am lucky to have Dean, Jordan, Rylan, Owen and Colin in my life.  And I am lucky that I had such wonderful family to lean on for support through all these years.

I know that "L"s journey is going to be a long and painful one.  But her spirit will be strengthened by it, in time.  And at some point, joy will return to her life.  I know my spirit is strong and I 'feel' strong, but I also feel like life for me will be forever tarnished in a way that is difficult to describe.  It is there that the fear resides.  I have to acknowledge it every day and do my best to squash it.

Years ago, when I was living alone after the divorce, I would go out into the backyard late, late at night, and 'tell off' the Universe.

"You aren't going to beat me!"

"Years ago you sent a really, really crappy person into my life to teach me the lessons I needed to learn in this lifetime.  Um....thanks?  Can the lesson be over now?"

"I deserve to be happy!!!!  Please?  Just a little?"

"Why!!!  What is the fucking point of loving someone if they are just going to hurt you?!?"

"Are you listening?"

My neighbors probably thought I was some crazy woman telling off her aspen trees, night after night.  Then again, they were crazy eBay hoarders who had a permanent dumpster in their driveway.

but.

The Universe listened.  Damn the Universe and it's smug knowitty-all-ness.  Now I have to make amends every night to the Universe and acknowledge that everything happens for a reason, and you shouldn't really question it, and thank you for sending Dean into my life, and thank you for loving me and giving me the capacity to love others, despite all of the other crap you've made me put up with.

Oh.  And thank you for chocolate...good stuff.

And for coffee.  Of which I have had entirely too much of this week.