When I was a kid we moved around quite a bit. We went from the West Coast of hippie-lovin' to the deep South of racial lines drawn at all times - and then to Iowa..... land of corn.

We had always lived in big town - outside Seattle, in Huntsville - and so to move to teeny tin Mt. Vernon, Iowa population 3,000 or so... was a change, to put it mildly.

It was lovely sheltered little place where people *really* didn't lock their doors.  All the popular girls spent their time on their backs with the Senior guys.  There were lots of parties and booze.... I did none of that.  I was ... not very interested in spreading it for some 17 year old with sloppy hands and eager fingers.  I wasn't sure *what* was in my future, but I was certain I didn't want to leave pieces of me in back seats across that small town.

So, I was a bit of a loner at times. I had friends ... but I never really "fit in".  It's hard to go from living in big city where you are *well aware* what gang violence is because you've seen it while visiting your Godmother who lived in Oakland at the time... and then sit in a "History" class that covered 'current events' for the first 30 minutes each Monday and the class actually refused to believe the stories of teenagers being shot for their Air Jordans there are in the magazines at the time.  The concept of colors - as in Bloods and Crips - was something of fiction to them - and any knowledge of it meant that I was a fabricator and a liar... because in a town where no one locks their front door, where people leave their keys in their ignition... you can't fathom someone shooting someone else for their shoes.

I wanted to *kiss* John Singleton when Boys N The Hood came out.... no. Really.

So.... I wasn't the most popular girl in school.... *they* did not understand me... and while I understood that their "sheltered" lives weren't bad because they were nice people, they weren't ignorantly 'sheltered' - it was just that they hadn't been exposed to things and experiences that I had.  How could they?  We still owned our Commodore 64 at the time - CNN was just coming into it's own and social media was actually still just a notebook that my BFF Carrie and I would pass back and forth to each other through our friend Matty at the time.  We would spend all day writing entire novels to each other and then Matty would swap them out for us - because we went to different schools and Matty saw Carrie in the afternoon.

I kind of miss that, to be honest.......

Anyhow.  I was always a little too grunge for the 'in' crowd in Mt. Vernon.  I liked dirty skater boys and even had a Powell Peralta Tony Hawk deck in black with a hawk head on it... my Mom tossed it out when I moved to London... sigh.  that's worth so much money now. lolol

I was never a proper betty - I just liked to watch.  I'm scared of heights and speed... which is a bad combination if you're going to try to ride a skateboard.  (for the record, The Boy can scale the 12 foot bowl and fakie like a pro and The Girl.... oh - The Girl loves to skate, she has her own deck with matching pink pro helmet and can ride up a 3 foot bowl).

In 9th grade I wrote a story... I still have it somewhere... I don't remember the assignment, but I think we were supposed to write about where we thought we'd be in ten years or something like that.  So I wrote this whole story about how I was going to marry Tony Hawk, who would become a huge professional skater and we would tour the world and end up living in the UK.  I drew this kind of morbid front cover for it with blood on a shower... something about The Cure at the time...

The teacher loved it - she said I had a 'natural' writing style and I should think about taking more writing classes.  The class, however... wanted to know who the hell Tony Hawk and Metallica were.

Yes. True Story.  I had *no* idea that ten years later Tony Hawk would be *the biggest* skater and I would be living the UK.. just not married to him.  Shame that... lololol

After a few years of small town livin'... I had had enough.  Really.  Enough.  So my parents moved me to a bigger school in Cedar Rapids.  Where..... after 3 longs years of being the round peg shoved painfully into a square hole.... I finally fit it in for the last 2/3 of my senior year.

I signed up for Journalism and quickly found myself as the chief photographer for the school newspaper... which is pretty much where I learned everything about photography.  Honestly. Mr. Lindsey taught me everything I know but most importantly he taught me how to be a *good* photographer. 

I had taken this great photo of this kid in the cafeteria - and he was talking but getting ready to take a bite of a banana at the same time:  the peel folded down the body and draping over his hand ala' Curious George style.  He was leaning over with this animated look on his face and his mouth gaped open - it was a hilarious shot.  I was pretty proud of the 'moment' I had captured. 

Mr. Lindsey scolded me, he said it was a good moment, but it wasn't a good "photograph".  He said, "Your job is to take pretty pictures of people - whether they are pretty or not.  You make them that way and you will always get hired for the next job."

So I didn't run the blow-job banana photo and... and I never took another photo like it again.  To this day, I always try to take nice pictures of people that make them look prettier and skinnier and happier... that's my job. It's crazy to think I built an entire career out of that... but it's true.

I settled into the new school quickly, finding my skater boys and heavy metal boys and grunge friends.... I kind of hopped around a little bit of everywhere... I felt at home.  It was amazing.  That senior year I had a huge crush on my friend Rob, but I was already dating his friend... so it never went anywhere.  sigh.....

The week I turned 18, I celebrated every single day.  My two BFF's at the time were Robin and Jada who were from Mt. Vernon.  Every day at school I celebrated my birthday in a different class and then Friday Robin, Jada and I went "cruising" and I collected 18 kisses on the cheek.  I was such a prude... seriously.  Then that Saturday night... *that* night was the talk of school because I had made friends with the kid who owned our indoor skate park and he agreed for me to host a Birthday Mosh there.  Rob and I had made Ren & Stimpy posters and hung them all around school and well over a hundred people came.

Three bands played and I wore this way-too-short mini dress made of suede that was from the 1960s.  It was epic.  Like EPIC.  Grunge was only *just* starting to make it to Iowa back then... so my desire to wear my Doc Martens under my dresses was *finally* getting accepted.  Finally.

That week... I met my first serious boyfriend... we'll call him Del.  He was older, in his second year at the Community College and frankly... that's big stuff: dating a college boy.  He was a drummer in a band, he was tall with dark brooding eyes and floppy black hair and a collection of flannel shirts that made me swoon in places I wasn't yet aware one could swoon.

He was yummy.

We "dated"....as you do in Iowa.  He took me to watch planes land while laying on a pile of blankets in the bed of his giant silver truck.  We went to the movies and either of the two malls in town.  We went to his shows.... I was smitten kitten and when he bought me a .25 carrot diamond promise ring not long before graduation... I thought I had found my future husband.  (Again... 18, living in middle America - settling down at that age isn't really 'unheard of'.)

It ended the summer after senior year... my first *big* heartbreak.  The kind of breakup where you forget to eat and you stop showering and stop leaving your house for days and weeks on end because just leaving the house seems to hurt.  The kind of *first* heart break that every parent knows is coming and would do anything to stop...but can't.

I had ended things... but the break up got nasty.  Really nasty.  I kind of knew that forcing myself into a place where I didn't really fit in wasn't going to be a good life for me.... I didn't know where I wanted to go, or what I wanted to do, but I knew I had to be brave enough to call it off and find my own way. Still... hurt like a mother....

The Bubbie was at wits end, Del was calling all the time - leaving nasty messages.  One day he loved me and wanted me back... the next he was screaming at The Bubbie to "F*ck off".  To which ... my hand to G*d, The Bubbie replied, "If you wanna' f*ck me little boy you can come on over... but don't go making me promises you don't intend to keep."  After that I had to move back into my parents house because Del had broken into my place and gone through my things and he started showing up at my work and at friends houses... stalking well before it was a "thing".  My parents made me move home.

Poor sweet, Iowa Farm Boy.... he was *not* expecting that answer from The Bubbie. lololol

A few weeks after I moved home he made me a mix tape... of sorts.  There were a few songs on it - he had recorded it on his dual cassette boom-box.  Remember the kind where you could play a tape in one half and then record that tape onto a blank tape on the other half?  Anyhow.... there were a few songs, but mostly it was just him talking about how much he loved me and how much he wanted me back. It went on for 90 min - a full 45 minutes on both sides of the cassette.

My parents (still owning their Commodore) had an answering machine - the kind that ran on those itty-bitty little tapes.... and The Bubbie finding Del's poetic prose to be too much to resist - found the most embarrassing. blubbering, crying 45 seconds of the tape and recorded it onto the itty-bitty answering machine tape.

For over 6 months, whenever you called our house, if you got our answering machine you would only hear poor sweet Del's voice telling you how much he loved you and how sorry he was that he refused to buy his own coke at the diner and it was wrong to make you share your diet Coke because it was *was* stealing to just keep getting the free refills and he wouldn't be so cheap down the road if you would just take him back....

Hand to G*d.  True story.  However... after that he stopped showing up at the house and at my job.

During that time, Tante Louise called - she knew my heart was broken.  She told me to go to the movies.  She said, whenever you're sad, whenever you can't take it anymore - just get in the car and go to the movies.  It'll be a two hour break for your brain and your heart.  It's a safe and cheap way to tune out the pain - it's an easy way to have a reset button.  So I spent a lot of time at the dollar theater... I saw Cool As Ice with Vanilla Ice soooooo many times that summer.... man:  I wanted to be Kristin Minter so bad. lolololol

Over time... I began to heal and a few months later the opportunity to move to London presented itself and so with a whopping $100 in my pocket, I boarded a plan to London with a one way ticket:  no return.  (*note* I have Right of Abode in the UK and can live there as a citizen and did not require a visa of any kind).

Anyhow.... I look back now, so grateful for the movies.  So grateful for the time that it bought me... I didn't spend my time hunting around for the next 'Del' to make myself feel better.  I didn't look for the answer to my future inside the eyes of every guy I met... which, is frequently was immature girls do (just ask Yoga Girl).  I just kind of.... escaped.  And yeah -  escaping into a world of Vanilla Ice wasn't exactly the stuff dreams are made of ... but it worked.

Fast forward to the heart break that would redefine the words "emotional pain" for me.... there always seemed to be too much to do.  As more things have gotten ticked off the list... divorce:  done.  House:  sold.  Children:  have shelter/food/love, done (for now... anyway).  Blog: up and running (though doesn't pay a dime - this b*tch is just for the love of doing it! ololololol)  The Book:  done, dusted and published (and making me less than $2 a book - lolol).

The only thing left is...... me.  I'm the last project I have to take on and it's really hard this time.  I'm sans the perky tits of days gone by that did (on at least a few occasions) open a few doors... and I'm sans the pep and youthful hope that tomorrow holds amazing promise and a  Happily Ever After....

Instead, I'm the poster child for the virtual 'Walk of Shame' one does after their husband leaves them for a younger, slightly thinner, gummier version of themselves..... sigh.

So, what's a girl to do?   I spend *a lot* of time .... at the movies.

It really started with Twilight.  I have worked so hard to bring everything together... I *literally* sleep less than four hours a night - between the kids and home-school and teaching and client jobs and the blog and the book... there just isn't more time to sleep.  So I don't.  I don't mind..... I don't want to miss out on this life by sleeping it away.  I'll sleep in twenty years when the kids are grown and happy and whole... then I'll sleep.

Anyhow.  I was *really* looking forward to the Twilight marathon.  12 hours, just me.  Me and Edward and Bella and Jacob (and some pretty sketchy acting in the first two hours for sure.....) - but I can lose myself in the story as it unfolds.  Love it.  Love it.  Love it.

I'm not seriously waiting for my "Edward"... I know that vampires don't really exist and I get it that marrying someone after knowing them for three weeks wasn't my best plan to date and I don't think I'm going to just meet my "Edward" and life is going to be great.... BUT.,  aside from warm comfy hours of escape.... it has brought to my heart and mind the idea that I settled a bit. I never had someone who protected me.  May be he didn't love me enough to want to protect me... may be he just didn't know *how* to protect me.... whatever it was:  it won't happen again.  I won't settle for that a second time.

I have a few friends who think I should already be dating... I think if they were in my shoes, they would already be dating.  I have no desire.  I think I need more time to sort through the betrayal and the pain... but - more importantly, so much of this has taken away from my time with the children, I can't imagine spending time away from them getting to know someone else.  That seems... emotionally irresponsible.

So.... I go to the movies.  It's a place where clients can't call me, email me, text me, IM me on facebook.... it's a place where no yells from down the hall, "Moooommmmeeeee - I'm done!" and I have to wipe someone's poopy butt.  It's a place where I don't have to talk to anyone... about anything.  I don't have to talk about El Capitan and the sh*t show my life has turned into... *most* importantly:  I don't have to think. 

G*d bless movies and music for giving me the ability to just tune the f*ck out and lose myself in whatever they are pitching me.  115 minutes of Edward and Jacob and Esme and Emmett... and I've totally gotten into Nikki Reed now.... They can talk to me, talk for me, entertain me, and help me slip away from my own maddening, heartbreaking thoughts... and just *be*.

I can just sit in my seat... in my Team Edward sweatshirt, under my Breaking Dawn II Edward fuzzy blanket, drink my diet Coke (with light ice) and breathe..... for 115 minutes I can breathe.

I'm so grateful for that.  Grateful for kids who go to bed and for movies that start at 10:15pm so I have time to get there... grateful for a theater manager who doesn't always make me pay because I've been so. many. times.  Plus... I think she knows who I am and reads the blog (hi there!)... lololol.  Sometimes pity *does* pay... bwahahahahaha. :)

While learning how to accept the catastrophic demise of my own Happily Ever After... it's oddly comforting to me to watch someone elses come to life and play out before me.  I'm grateful to Carter Burwell whose music is... so peaceful and moving.  The title of the chapter in The Book where I find out about Yoga Girl is titled "So Hold On" - which is from the Robert Pattinson song Never Think, which appears on the first Twilight soundtrack - that song has brought me an immense amount of peace on some truly hard nights.

If I'm being honest... the first time I heard it I thought it was crap.. I could hardly understand what he was singing... then I looked up the lyrics and the song seemed to fit my life to a T.  Odd that... very odd.

So...today I am grateful for the chance to still breathe - even if it's only 115 minutes at a time.  It's a stepping stone - and eventually it'll become a bridge to a better place for me -  and if I can get to a better place, then the kids will be there with me by default.  I don't think the answers to my life are in Twilight... which is probably why I still have never read the books... I just like to go the movie.  I just need my 115 minutes to be.  That time for my brain to stop thinking and just.... relax.  It gives me time to just rest and be and not think, not answer to people or clients... of even my own tortured self... but just be.  More time of just being means a calmer Elle - who can get up the next day, shake off the fears and the pain and question marks that still loom over my now d-funked marriage - and start fresh each day trying to rebuild this life on my terms.  Again... I'm a crazy twihard for sure.. I'm Team Edward all the way.... *but* I'm fully aware that my life is built on my terms, not some Hollywood fantasy.  Trust me, I got that message loud and freaking clear. lololol

It's just those 115 minutes are a sacred time of peace and calm and pleasantness and to that I say:  Thank Edward and Bella and Jacob and Stefanie Meyer.  In the craziest of ways... you have become a lifeline to myself.... it sounds more than a little cray-cray... but it's true.

Here is the Robert Pattinson lyrics - you should buy the song... it's brilliant. :)

I should never think
What's in your heart
What's in our home
So I won't

You'll learn to hate me
But still call me baby
Oh love
So call me by my name

And save your soul
Save your soul
Before your to far gone
Before nothing can be done

I'll try to decide when
She'll lie in the end
I ain't got no fight in me
In this whole damn world
So hold off
She should hold off
It's the one thing that I've known

Once I put my coat on
I coming out in this all wrong
She standing outside holding me
Saying oh please
I'm in love
I'm in love

Girl save your soul
Go on save your soul
Before it's to far gone
And before nothing can be done

Cause without me
You got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
Without me you got it all
So hold on

You can find it on Amazon HERE. :)

I feel like I can't turn on the news or read my facebook wall without feeling my fog starting to come over me.... I have to wonder if we're all starting to feel that way.  So many debates online - people screaming at each other in ALL CAPS as though banging on your keyboard harder gets your point across faster and louder.... it doesn't. lolol... but we all do it anyway. 

I keep thinking about the last weeks events... my personal opinion is that talking about guns and more security in schools might curtail future events - but doesn't help solve the problem.  The *problem* is a human one - not a mechanical one.  We have to first solve what is wrong within our society that human life has been devalued by anyone to this level.  We start by working on a fix for that..... at least that's how I feel.

Part of it, is not continuing the cycle of hate and anger.... as of late this blog ... or rather - *me* -, I have been rather full of anger and frustration and it spills out onto the keyboard and fills up the screen.  My feelings have a place... all of our feelings *do*.  Even hateful ones, however, the *feelings* are just that - they remain feelings and do not become actions.

I wish, for these boys this past week - those feelings, whatever unexplainable feelings they were... had just remained feelings and not become something else.

I've always been a talker.... you know right where you stand with me.  For some people, that makes me a b*tch.  Most of the people in my life, however, find it to be an endearing quality.  I don't have time for fake games or fake friends.  I am who I am.... like me or not, I can only be me.  I am honest... clearly.  And, sometimes honest to a fault.  I'm not afraid to own my mistakes, and I'm not afraid to say sorry.

When I found out about Yoga Girl, I took a few days reading and absorbing as much information as I could get my hands on about infidelity and divorce and such.  I don't go "grey" areas.  Everything for me has to be black and white.  Clean.  Simple. Yoga Girl and the lies El Capitan was telling me were nothing but grey, murky, muddy waters... which were drowning me slowly.

After a few days of me crying and begging and him lying and lying....  I put on facebook (with El Capitan's permission) that were splitting up and I delicately suggested that "three people don't make one marriage".  I left it at that and went to bed.

I woke up the next more to a phone blowing up, a full in-box and a million concerned friends - which is a nice thing to wake up, too, actually.  I had an email from a client, so I clicked on that first.

She had seen my post on facebook... I had done their wedding years before and had become quite friendly with them.  However... I think by now you might have noticed that *most* of my clients become friends, and often, very good ones.... I'm lucky that way.    Over the years, other photographers have mocked me for that a bit - the fact that I would let my clients into to my life the way I do.  But.. I always have and because of that openness I woke up the one email that helped me the most in those darkest days.

She told me that her parents had gone through a similar situation when she wasn't too much older than The Boy. She said that for years her parents went back and forth and back and forth.... coming home from school, she wasn't always sure who would still be living there - who might have moved out after a  fight, etc.  She said that that was harder on her - than if they had just split up the first time and moved on.

She said that even when things were good, she had a pit in her stomach when her hand hit the front door not knowing if *that* day was going to be the day Dad moved out again.... or not.

She told me to leave.  She knew El Capitan, had met him several times.  For a while, I thought the four of us might be social friends.... but the couple moved away for school.  So, she knew him some - and she still told me to leave - she told me not to beg him to stay if he didn't want to.

I cried through the whole email.  Her parents had been so classy and kind at her wedding.  I didn't detect *any* animosity between them.  They were dancing together, and stood in family photos together - it was a joyful day centered around their gorgeous daughter and her fantastic hubby-to-be.  (I really love that guy, btw.)  I didn't pick up on anything other than respect for her, for their "family" as it was then and for the importance of the event of the day.

I heard her words, and saw them as coming from seven-year old her - not the professional woman I know her to be. But, the childhood her who wanted to stop me from putting my children through what she had seen.

I never believed in "airing out" my "dirty laundry".  lolol... I can almost *hear* some of you laughing behind your monitors.... but it's true.  I had ONE policy during my marriage:  neither of us talks bad about each other to other people.

Often when guy friends or girl friends get together and start trash talking their spouses their friends around are quick to say "Oh, I would never put up with that..." or, "I can't believe you let her talk to you like that..." blah blah blah.  However, the story-teller is rarely honest about *why* someone said what they said:  what event or comment or issue came *before* what was said.  So, it's easy to give your friends bad advice about their relationships when people don't know the full picture.  And unless you *sleep* in your friends bed with them... you most definitely do not know the truth.

So, up until I put that status update.  Until the sign and the interviews (and *EVEN THEN* I said little).... it really wasn't until I started the blog that I started putting out there my entire story for the world to see and pick apart.  Sometimes it's good... sometimes it's not.  Sometimes it hurts.

Most of all... I think it helps.  I think it helps me process... and according to the (literally) hundreds of emails I get each month - it seems to be helping many of you in some kind of crazy way.... which is rather amazing.
And very, very humbling......

But.  The point is: I was open.  I was honest about my pain and my struggle and here someone in my life stepped forward and said - don't do this, do that instead.

How *amazing* is she?

She could have stayed quiet, she could have watched the train wreck from the sidelines and dissected me and discussed me with her (wonderful) hubby.  But she didn't.... she saw me standing on the tracks and pulled me off before *another* train ran me over.  She *shared* with me her experience - her valuable childhood opinion in an effort to save my children from yet more pain.

I'm incredibly lucky that I have people - even on the peripheral, on the web and through this blog - who step up and tell it to me like it is.  I can read all the books I want - but, personal experience is always going to influence me more than anything in a book.

So, her words helped me keep to my resolve... and thank f*ck for that.  Based on who El Capitan is *now* - trying to work things out (while he's never actually said it) clearly isn't something he wanted to do. Ever. 

More than that... her words gave me hope because she and her family had been through something hard and emotional and tumultuous, and yet..... they had stood in front of me, whole and happy... and divorced.

Which is why.... even though I want to climb into the sandbox and get my Game of Thrones on some days.... I don't.  I come here and to my friends to share my day, share the pain, share my fears and I find help and hope and friendship.... and I learn so much.  I learn how to be a better Mom, a better ex-wife (because believe it or not... *that* is actually a goal) - and a better friend.

Sometimes I'm failing on all accounts... sometimes I'm winning.  Either way - it's only *ever* happening because I'm here, sharing this sh*t show of a life I'm having for  ... well... everyone. lolol

The last week with El Capitan has been another fantastic trip down Who's Telling The Truth Today lane.... he say's he's trying. He say's doing his best.... he say's he didn't answer the phone on our anniversary because he didn't think the conversation would be healthy.

He has a point... a valid one.  However, I then pointed out that his interest in having 'healthy conversations' with would have been MUCH MORE helpful PRIOR to having sex with Yoga Girl.... sigh.

However, he has a point.... he say's he was feeling guilty that day and didn't want to fight about things.  I can understand that.  I can.  I don't want to fight about anything... I still just want the same answers I was asking for in April.  It's the inability to be honest and give me the answers that we then fight about things..... I can tell his friends have been talking to him.  Feeding him things.....

It's a shame for them, that they don't really know *me*.  I don't know what version of me El Capitan has been sharing with them over the years... but when it comes down to brass tax, El Capitan *knows* I haven't done anything wrong. He knows that he's agreed to the blog and the book and their contents.  I've agreed not to reveal his name.  Done.  I haven't. 

I don't know why I'm on this journey.... my kids deserve better, that's for sure.  I want to shake him and wake him up and point at the news and scream:  This isn't worth it!  We're wasting our time - time we could lose - let's just be a family and be happy.....

But that ain't gonna happen.

At the time time, I wanna shake the sh*t out of myself and scream:  Quit feeling sorry for your stupid self, get your ass to the gym, work less, laugh more, play with the kids and STOP WASTING TIME - time you could lose!

As much as I want it too... that also isn't going to happen anytime soon.
(well... hopefully at least the gym part sooner rather than later... lololol)

In the meantime... I'm GRATEFUL that I'm not alone.  I'm grateful that people step up and tell me where I've gone wrong, where I've gone right.... and share their experiences.  I'm thankful that there are people in my life who help me carve out my future by being willing to share their experiences and opinions with me.

Those words, those experiences - they are helping me shape my future and my children's future - and while I might struggle and fall and get pissed and be pissy..... I'm glad my feelings stay *here* and don't become actions so that I can get up tomorrow, start fresh and try again.

I'll keep getting up.  I'll keep resetting things with El Capitan and trying - and... he is, too.  In his own way.  Which is all I can ask.....

So.... MR

There's a good chance that I wont finsih the blog tonight... storm has rolled into Portland I have to shut down my computers before we lost power.

Luckily for you Monday morning readers... I blogged on Friday and Saturday night... TWO newish blogs to read. :)  I will still try to post tonight if I can. :)

I really usually take Friday and Saturday off from blogging.... this week, though - it just seems like there's so much left undone, unsaid....

I feel like everywhere I go there is a kind of sadness hanging over us all.... just living in shock over the events of the past week and I think we're all starting to worry a little about what the hell is coming next......?

More shootings?
More unexplained mayhem?

For me, personally, it's just an added layer of sorrow on a holiday season that was already shaping up to suck.  Just flat out: suck.

But seriously... *why*?  Because my husband left me?

What a first world problem that is - right?   No one died.  By comparison, my problems are minute, insignificant and totally superficial when you take into account the holiday season for some.

My Grandma say's that "life is for the living".  Centuries of Jews have faced persecution and genocide... and yet:  they sac up, buck up and move on.  My Grandmother and her friends are a joyful people.  They are kind and generous and they learned to love and *live* in spite of the atrocities they have seen in their lifetimes.

They learned to thrive in spite of the bad.  They learned to live in the good.  They learned to be grateful and make the most of things.... now, unlike my Grandmother I'm not going to start hand washing and re-using tinfoil, nor will you open my dish towel drawer to find a pair of my over-sized, beige 'silk' underpants with the crotch cut out for polishing the silver.... for a start I have neither silver to polish nor the beige panties... but you get the point.

All this horrific sh*t on the news and scrolling my facebook feed all. day. long.  I'm like a sponge: just soaking in the sorrow and the misery and the death.  Frankly.... I felt bloated by my own emotional turmoil, I wasn't aware I could even take more on.  But the truth is... I can't.  This b*tch is capsizing under the weight of all of this and starting to lie face down, ass up and I'm struggling for air.

So ENOUGH.  I will pray for the families.  I will pray for those beautiful children and the teachers who shielded them.  I will donate whatever monies I can.  I will think of them, pray for them, cry for them.... and then I need to *live* for them. 

I can't change what happened... none of us can, though I'm sure all of us would if we could.  What I *can* do is not waste this holiday season crying in my own f*cking soup over Yoga Girl and the half-a-man El Capitan turned out to be.  I can't put those children back in their parents arms... though I long to.  I can't help that mother get one more hug or one more kiss from her child...... though I would trade everything I own to make it happen if it were possible.

What I *CAN* do:  is live.

I can not waste this time by harvesting my broken heart and dwelling in the fields of pain which grow from it.
I can not waste the hugs and kisses and smiles of my beautiful children by thinking about how it should be different - that we should be in our home home, in our beds.... in our life, changed forever by betrayal.
I can not waste the precious minutes of this life by wishing they were different.

Instead, I can thrive where I stand.  Grateful for what I have.
I can accept what I have lost and realize that I have *not*, indeed lost everything.
I can spend more time on hugs and kisses and giggles and love.
I can live.
and I should... because there are 18 sets of parents who cannot do that.  Right now.  Today.  Tonight.

It can be easy to lose yourself in your pain... I've been doing that for a few weeks... thousands of you have ridden that wave with me and for that... I am incredibly grateful.  Really.

It feels like a betrayal to the human spirit to be joyful at this time in our country.  As though, if we all lay down in misery, joining hands with the families of these tragedies, that we will be helping them somehow.  But, the truth is: we will not.  We should pray and donate and continue to act in kindness and compassion.... but we should also be living in joy in our lives grateful and not wasting precious time that could be taken away.

I cancelled several TV interviews and the book signing that I was supposed to have next week... it seemed wrong to me to carry on with them.  Our own town was grieving, as I said, I have friends who knew one of the Oregon victims.  That weighed on me.  Going ahead with things didn't seem "right" for me... and the second shooting happened and I was very glad I had made the choice I made.

There will be a time for a book signing - it's already on the calendar for January... and I'm thrilled and excited and proud of myself... but I feel like that will be the time for that event... not now.

NOW is a time to re-think the future, make plans and act on them.  I still need to find a job - one that pays with benefits... any of your hiring?  lololol

I need to find a way to co-parent in a situation that looks more like me parenting  and him babysitting.   I'm not sure how to make that work... but I will.  I will because it's the right thing to do.  It's the right thing for the children.  I will try and try until I have to quit and try something else. 

I have started to think about my "future home".  I'm planning out what colors I would paint the rooms... I want a purple bedroom.  A purple bedroom with a wrought iron bed from Ikea - curvy and curly and girlie.  I want a dresser - a dark color.  I want my own bathroom. lol

I want the children to have their own rooms.... The Girl could have her kitchen back and a pink room with butterfly and fairy accents.

The Boy could have a whole new room - perhaps a Halloween themed room?  May be a Jake Skellington theme?  But... a "big boy" room.

A smallish house with a small kitchen with a pantry with a door that I can paint with chalk-board chalk like they do on Good Luck Charlie because The Boy noticed that the Mom on that show is always writing funny notes and love notes to the kids.

I want my own chalk board door to write love notes to my kids on.

I'm not going to get that living at the bottom of this well of emotional pain and anger ... drowning in self-pity.  It's wrong and it's selfish and if anything happens to us down the road I'm going to hate myself for wasting this time.... and truly. the only way to honor those who have died is to *live*. 

Is to truly live.

So... my posts are going to change because I can feel the rock of anger and hurt breaking inside me and I can either let it float around like shrapnel- killing me slowly.... or I can break it up and force it out.

The truth has never changed... I still have so much to be grateful for.  So much to be thankful for. 
Life is for the living....I can either choose to live in bitterness and anger, or love and joy.... I prefer the later

I don't usually blog on a Friday - usually it's just Sunday - Thursday night.... but this has been a hard and sh*tty week.... for pretty much everyone I think.

It's stunning how many horrible things happened this week.... and *those* are just things we hear about... how many women were raped?  How many other innocent people were murder, or died in car accidents or from being his by a DUI driver.....

I suppose when it comes to awful things that happen:  the list is rather endless. 

People *do* senseless, horrible things.  Happens every day.  Sometimes it's as casual as sex with a 22 year old, sometimes it's texting through a red light, both can have catastrophic endings.

I've thought *a lot* about what happened to me.... one thing that bothers me greatly is the idea that other people *knew* and did nothing.  That other people *knew* and stood by while my children and I were left out, unprotected from the oncoming storm, to weather an emotional tsunami that I (for one) will never fully recover from.

Who does that?  Who doesn't stop to help?  Who doesn't, on the grounds of common sense and decency, just *say* something......?  Lots of people:  that's who.

El Capitan and Yoga Girl and their friends - the do that thing where we tell ourselves that whatever we're doing is "okay" because... well - Elle's a b*tch and she deserves it (that's what Dick said, nice huh?  Again... not what he texted me on my birthday... ), or - Elle 'is controlling' of El Capitan, etc.... we create *reasons* for why we can accept and tolerate someone else's horrific behavior.

We make it ok.  We make social peace with whatever wrong that's happening and we turn a blind eye to the reality of the damage that's going to be caused - because well... El Capitan *should* be allowed to do whatever he wants at the end of his work day - right?  I mean, it's totally unreasonable that El Capitan has a 'two beer' limit:  Elle is way too controlling.  Or, El Capitan is 'entitled' to having his weekends free.

Dissected and standing alone, our reasons can seem almost completely understandable.  They seem solid and stable and rational.  They fuel and feed whatever desire we want to satisfy and, at the same time, make it ok.  Make it fine. 

Our sins are not *sins* so long as we can conjure up some kind of reasonable, half-assed excuse to explain them away to ourselves.  However... that doesn't work.  Whatever reasonable excuse one might have, it doesn't shield anyone from the fall-out of wrong or hurtful choices.

Recently... and follow me here, this might seem like a bit of a stretch at first..... but I was a holiday party.  It was a group of ladies - made of friends who have become clients and some new friends - but everyone there knows me.  They all know what's happening to me... what I'm going through.  Suffice to say - I'm quite literally an open book at this point... so there is little most people don't know about me or my life.

Part of the nights events is a gift exchange. Everyone takes a number and the presents are wrapped and in a stack.  As people open, the next person can either "steal" a previously opened gift or take one from the stack.   Usually there is one or two gifts that gets stolen and is the 'big ticket' item.

This year, I opened this fantastic storage tote.  It was brilliant, covered in snowmen.  My first thought was how much The Boy would love putting all his holiday stuff in it - and it was totally cute.  I'm fairly sure from the excited look on my face:  it was evident that I really like the gift.

Lately.... I haven't had too many moments filled with any kind of excitement.

I joked that no one should "steal" this from me, because I am sans a home and a husband and if my token of the season is a storage tote... then it should go home with me.  Everyone laughed.

That's me.... taking my inner most pain and using it for humor.  I can't very well sit and cry everywhere I go, I'm ugly enough without the ugly cry going off every day.

The game went on... someone stole some earrings from someone else, someone 'stole' the scarf and ring set that was pretty popular... then someone came and stole the tote.

In that moment, I was pretty shocked.  I know it's the name of the game and it's a stupid tote and it's silly... but in a room full of Starbucks and iTunes and Black Rock Coffee gift cards still left for the stealing... *why* take the tote?

I haven't had much to smile about this holiday season... the weight of everything we've lost presses down on my daily making it harder and harder to keep turning these lemons into vodka.  Sometimes, it's freaking impossible.

All of these woman are lucky.  Each one would leave that party and go home to a husband.  They would return to their lovely two story homes that house their intact families.  They will crawl into their warm beds and sleep in the safety and security of having a husband.

I have none of those things.  I don't have a room of my own.  I don't have a closet.  All the holiday trinkets and decor I've collected over the years isn't set out nicely in my home:  it's packed up in boxes and in storage.  I don't even have a bed of my own to sleep in.

I don't have a husband who will stuff my stocking (in more ways than one) and put nicely wrapped presents under the tree for me.  I don't have a husband who will take the children shopping to pick out that perfect gift for Mommy.

I have none of that.  I've robbed Peter to pay Paul to make Christmas for my children, to make sure they have what they wanted.  I have written a freaking book, shot two preschools (over 150 kids) shot over 20 family sessions, visited my friends sick daughter, organized a giving tree at a local business, organized and shopped for our Adopt-a-Family for the club.... and *that* was just in the last 6 weeks.  (Oh, and don't forget blogging 5 nights a week on top of that).

6 weeks.  That's what I've done.... oh and the 200 or so hours of editing and photo finishing.  I haven't gotten more than four hours of sleep a night since late October.  There's always one more job to hurry and finish because people need their photos to make presents for their family and send out their holiday cards.

It's not about the money, not all of my families pay and not all pay the same rate.  I had to actually beg one of my clients to even come do family pictures because they had a huge amount of medical debt and photos were a luxury that wasn't in their budget.  I refused to allow them to skip a year... they never have before.  Life happens - all we have are the people in our lives and our memories.  I can't stand the idea of a Mom going without having those memories captured for the sake of money.

The people are amazing and kind and have been there for me several times in my own life's journey - are they not worth more than money to me?  They sure as sh*t are.  I've taught The Boy from day one that *people* are more important than things, more important than money.

Because they are.

But...... on that night, during the game, the *thing* became what was important.  The tote.  It's just a game, right?  The point of the game is to 'steal' the good stuff from other people.  So.... it's *ok* to do.  It's *expected* and fine.... regardless of the fact that someone's feelings might actually be hurt by it.

It's ok to do, because it's part of the game. 

Neither of these women had any idea that I cried all the way home because I finally broke under the crushing reality that no one else, aside from my own parents, would be buying me any presents this year. That that tote.. simple and silly as it was - was lovely and I liked it.  And... I didn't have to buy it for myself, it was mine.  It was mine... until someone else saw it, liked it and took it.

  We have stopped *thinking* in the moment about what a simple, seemingly harmless action is going to do to someone else.  That the weight of that choice isn't just about the moment - but the fall out from that moment.  That they would drive home, triumphant with their tote, pull into their two car garage, park their nice car, sleep next to their loving husband and .... wake up everyday enjoying the life of a stay at home Mom.  All things that elude me.  Security and love and *things* the elude me. 

We all have choices. Everyday.  We see an accident, we can pull over or drive by.  We see someone struggling with a door to Target... we can open it for them or rush past them.  We can either wait patiently in long lines at the bank without grumbling and just do that thing called.... wait. our. turn.

We see a tote we like... and we can take it... or leave it.  We all have a choice.  It's a small,stupid thing... but often it's the little things in life that build up against a person pushing them over the edge.  Pushing them to doing things - changing their perspective on the world....

We seem to have forgotten to think about *everyone's* bigger picture.... People *saw* my husband cheating me... and they stood by and did nothing.  Having made peace with the bad behavior simply because they think I'm a 'controlling b*tch'......  but forgetting that that b*tch has children who pay the biggest price in all of this.

Not realizing that for El Capitan to get where he was in life... he *needed* me. He needed me there to help keep him on the straight and narrow.  Without me, while he certainly has his nights free and he can drink however many beers he likes.... he now has his days free, because he also doesn't have a job.

So those friends who made his affair 'ok' - have only served to help him get to a place where his own children don't trust him, his own son see's him as 'selfish', he has no family, no home, no car and no job......

I was more 'better' for El Capitan than I was bad... that much I can assure you.  But his friends didn't know that... because they didn't know *him*. 

We don't know these two recent shooters.... but I can promise you this:  there were people in their lives making their bad behaviors "ok".  There were people who paved their path to mayhem with excuses and rationalizations, which probably seemed totally insignificant at the time, but eventually helped lead them to doing something horrific.

May be no one saw it coming.... but somewhere along the road, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that someone could have stepped up and *may be* things would be different.

We can talk about gun control and video games and violent movies all we like... but until *we* all start *talking*... nothing is ever going to change.  Until we stop thinking about *things* and start thinking about people and how our collective actions or inaction will affect someone else... we are destined to keep going down this same path.  This path of social mayhem.

I said it was a stretch... it's a freaking snowman tote... it's a husband - it's not 18 kindergarten students strewn across a classroom...... but I can't help but think about what would be different if *one* person had stood up at some point along the road and said.... "That is a bad idea - I won't do it.."  or.... "That's a really bad idea, and I should find some way to get this person help....."

When we don't stand up for each other in compassion and kindness even when someone else doesn't deserve it... we are destined for mayhem.  Every single time.  Over and over... people want to know *why* I "protect" Yoga Girl's identity..... that they would totally put her picture all over the internet -that she deserves whatever she gets.....

I don't totally disagree with that, however.... do I not have an obligation to protect her?  She's a stupid kid - 22 years old and lacks the life experience (and apparently the conscience) to fully grasp the emotional carnage she's caused me.... but she's still someone else's daughter.  She's still a human (just barely in my mind some days), and for that reason alone, I protect her identity.  I don't' think it makes me a saint or a better person... I think it's the most basic thing I'm supposed to do as a human. Plain and simple.

What if one person had stood up and said something to El Capitan... would I be sitting here?

If *one* person had been the pebble in the river of the life of those two shooters.... could their ripple effect been such that 26 people wouldn't be dead at the hands of a young man today?  I'm not going to assume either way... but I am willing to stand up and say... may be instead of focusing on political hot buttons that cause a furor of debate on our facebook walls we just get back to basics:  compassion.

If you see someone struggling:  help them.
If you think someone is ruining their life:  stop them.
If you think your friend is cheating on their spouse:  talk to them.
If you see someone who needs professional help:  step up and *try* to help.

Sometimes when you try to help you might fail, but it shakes something else loose that helps down the road in another way.  When we stop fighting for each other, for our friends and our neighbors and even strangers in our community - it won't matter who is holding a gun and who's not... because we've already devalued our lives and the lives of those around us in a manner that suggests to someone else  that's "ok" to go on a shooting spree.  I'm not saying we - or anyone around those two shooters (or any shooter) is "responsible" for anything, I'm only suggesting that as a collective society we sometimes devalue each other with our actions and our words.... that worries me.

Kindness, compassion and a willingness to step up and say something when we need to.  Simple steps that don't require voting or political parties or constitutional rights:  they are just human rights.

We have to find a way to get back to that.... get back to honoring each other.  Simple changes we can make at home, with our friends, at work... in our community, could be the small pebbles that when gather collective speed and power - can turn the tides and change the path we all seem to be on right now. 

Like the world, my heart breaks for those families - the shooters families.... there aren't words to make any of it better or different....  there is *no* comparison to snowman tote's or wayward husbands because there *is* no comparison.  AT ALL.  I guess, like everyone else in the world, I feel a bit helpless.  WE see this tragedy and there is nothing we can do to ease the pain of these families.... bigger "answers" like gun control and better security measures take time and hours of arguing in court rooms - it could be years before *those* kinds of changes take place and how knows if they will even work....... I'm only suggesting that we stop, look around and *think* with compassion and kindness for other people before we act, saying something/do something.  It's small and perhaps a silly idea...  but may be if  we start small, start with ourselves, we can have a bigger affect and help prevent these types of things from happening.  It's a pipe dream to think it might bring about real change, I know.... but one can hope.

What a crappy week. 

I wanted to call Yoga Girl at 11:15 this morning and say..... "One year ago right now I was banging my husband on our marital bed."

Then, at 1:30pm I wanted to text her and say.... "One year ago right now I have a hearty lunch after working off so many, many carbs......"

And at 4:48pm I had a *really* hard time not texting her and saying...."One year ago *right* now I was flat on my on our living floor celebrating my tenth year of marriage."

You know... the tenth year of my marriage which she said that *he* said was "loveless" and "lacked affection"..... other than acquiring a set of whips, chains and belts:  I'm not sure how much more undying love and affection I could have show him.
Sigh.

But I did not text her.

Today was.... our 11th Wedding Anniversary.  I spent most of the day working on client work, then I ran out to take the kids to see Santa... bought the large package so that the kids could take him a wallet and a 5x7 in a frame.  AT which point I later realize that it *must* say sucker right across the front of my damn forehead.  Still.... pictures with Santa are spendy - why pay twice?   Why shouldn't the kids give him one?  That's just f*cking petty and I'm  A LOT of things... but I sure as sh*t not petty.

Oh.. by the way, teeny disclaimer:  I'm in a super foul mood and this post is likely to be laced with swear words and anger and bitterness... if that bother's you, try again tomorrow. :)

I spent most of the day back in my fog.  My constant companion:  fog.  I can be in a room full of friends listening to them chat about their days and their lives and the awesome reality of everything I've lost will kind of just... come over me, wash over me, leaving me sitting there, but in a fog.  Not there.  Not completely.

The Boy knows my fog now.  He can see, feel it.  He knows when I'm not there anymore.  Not fully there.  Which I hate - I really hate that... but it's better than crying in front of people all the time. My face is fat enough and for f*ck's sake, when I have an ugly cry:  I have an *ugly* cry.  The affects of which last for days with it's puffiness taking over my eyes and swallowing me up.  So... needless to say, I avoid the ugly cry as much as possible.  This poor b*tch has enough going against her... know what I mean?

Our ten year was bittersweet.  We were broke.  So freaking broke. A bit of a running theme in our marriage - the only anniversary that I ever got a present for was our first year.  Our "first" Christmas we'd only been together a month or so, so our gifts were basics:  Dvd's and clothes and whatnot.  The *next* Christmas, El Capitan got me the Tiffany Charm bracelet I wanted.

Growing up my Father's Mother, my Oma, had a gorgeous gold charm bracelet.  It held a charm for every child:  a gold disc with a small diamond set in the middle, with their name and birth date on the back.  She has charms for various holidays and other life events.  I could always hear her coming down the hall because as she swung her arms the bracelet would jingle off her legs.  When she wrapped her arms around you for a hug, the charms would fall on your back tapping you ever so slightly as her arms came to a rest around your shoulders.

Mostly I can remember the sound it made, like a soft chiming.

I had always wanted a charm bracelet and I'm much more of a silver girl than a gold one - so El Capitan bought me the Tiffany's charm bracelet.  He had a heart charm with our wedding date put on it, and bought me the commemorative 911 charm with the American flag on it.  As the years went by, that would be my "main" present, another charm for my bracelet.

In the early years, before using that bracelet as an actual charm bracelet became popular, the charms and engraving were under $50 - so, we could usually afford it.  I had a charm for The Boy, a charm for my 30th Birthday. 

When The Boy was two years old, he would love to play with it. One day we had friends visiting form out of town and we went shopping at Nordstrom Rack.  The Boy was in a shopping cart and very bored.  I took my bracelet off and wrapped it around the handle of the shopping cart two times and shut the clasp on itself.
He was content and happy.

We loaded up the car and it wasn't until we had driven to our next store that I realized that I had left my beloved bracelet on that shopping cart.  We drove back, we searched, Nordstrom staff searched, but the bracelet was gone.

Eventually we got a replacement bracelet, but it was never the same.

Every other anniversary, we always said 'no gifts'.  It was too close to Christmas and as it was, I would use the $100 my parents would give us every to off-set the cost of Christmas, so gifts for an anniversary were out of the question.

El Capitan would always come home with flowers... not roses mind you.  I don't know why.  But always purple flowers:  carnations, peonies, tulips.  Whatever the under $10 bouquet at Safeway was.

He would always buy me a card, though.  The card was the best part.  He would always get a 'cartoon' card, the kind where the 'dog-people' couple sit at a fancy dinner, "fight" over car repairs, sit on the couch together, etc.  The kind of "I love you in spite of your dirty underwear on the floor" type card.... but he would draw on them and change the wording so that it suited us.  So that it suited our lifestyle and our relationship. 

It wasn't much, but it was what we could afford and it was a sweet token of his affection, and I never complained.  Anniversary after anniversary came and went and I would say, "Don't worry Daddy, when we hit ten years, then you can get me a big present."

Oh yeah... before he was El Capitan, he was just "Daddy" most of the time.  It kind of came on after The Boy came along, a term of endearment, not an obvious need to be Fathered by him.  I think we all know enough by now to know that El Capitan wasn't able to have done much of that even if I needed him, too.

Anyhow...... I had big dreams of perhaps a nice piece of jewelry or a family trip to Disneyland... some kind of something to mark such a huge day.  Such a fantastic milestone.

Looking back... right after our anniversary is when things started slowing rolling downhill for us.  Christmas was a bit lack-luster for him, he kind of sat there disconnected.  It almost seemed like making it to our ten year was the kiss of death for us.  Like it was too much "success" and he was starting to check out with us and being checking in elsewhere..... sigh.

So I never got my big gift.  I never got anything because our ten year came around and we couldn't afford much more than lunch at The Cheesecake Factory.  Stupid me... I was *happy*, I was content.  I thought life was a wonderful thing and a great place to be..... I was unaware that I was sleeping with my own emotional enemy.  I don't think he knew it yet then either.....

So today has been hard.  I'm f*cking pissed, actually.  Tired of the lies and bullshit and of him. To be honest.  Tired of the lies... so many lies.

He owns a car with her.
He owns an iphone.
They live in a fancy apartment.

THEY THEY THEY.  no room for the children, mind you. No room at all.

Like everything else, he's been denying the iphone for a while... then the other day he said that he "left the cell phone" under his car seat and that was why it took him three days to call me back... because he had forgotten it there.

Hmm.... can *anyone* in this day and age go THREE DAYS without their cell phone?  Really?
Of course he can... the kids and I and a few work people are the only reasons he uses it.  His friends and Yoga Girl all call the new phone number:  the iphone.

The kids, the cell phone and I are.... we are easily left under a car seat:  easily forgotten about.

Superf*ckingawesomefanf*ckingtastic, that is.

And honestly... he's always getting pissed me for "following him" or "harassing him" - but when I've *asked* you a million times about owning another cell phone and you lie every time... don't go telling me you left it under you car seat for three days - clearly I now know you *have* a second cell phone.  duh.

That's was pisses me off - *I* don't get a second cell phone.  *I* don't get to "not answer my phone" for three days because I ... lets review my favorite El Capitan lies:

I was asleep (yes, for all two or three day's)
I was working
I left my phone under the seat in my car

How about this.  How about.... *I* don't answer *my* phone for three days.  How about I get a new phone and a new number and I just kind of leave my current phone in my car for three days and not answer when he calls.

Do you know the sh*t storm that would cause?  Because *I'm* the custodial parent, so if I don't' answer my phone then I'm just being a b*tch and keeping him from his kids, right?

So what the f*ck does that make him when he doesn't answer his phone? 

It's a bitter, cruel and unfortunate joke that *I* have to remain available to his every call while he can rip my chest open, crush my heart with his betrayal and then stash it, along with my every dream and all my hopes in the vacuous snatch of a home-wrecking 22 year old that is not nearly as pretty as her Yoga Girl moniker might suggest.  Not. At. All.

See... I warned you.

She is the place where my dreams when to die.  I hope they dwell there, festering and infecting her.

Needless to say.... it's been a foggy day.  Foggy, foggy day.

And of course *tonight* is The Middle, which The Boy just loves.  We never miss it and tonight's episode was about Frankie and Mike's 20th Wedding Anniversary.  Fanf*ckingtastic, that is.

So I sat, taking in the irony of such an episode.... and said nothing.  Kept my ugly cry to myself and watched through the fog.  When it was over I got up and checked on my job on the computer and The Girl said something about 'Mommy's wedding' and The Bubbie said, rather innocently, "Today is Mommy and Daddy's wedding anniversary."

I looked up, surprised she said something and then I thought for a split second.. 'they still won't understand what that means.....'  split second because my thoughts were interrupted by The Boy.

Instantly The Boy sat up, a look of horror on his face and he said, "Oh my God Mom!  Today is your ani-versy!?!?!  That's terrible because Daddy isn't here, he's with his girlfriend........"

Stupid tv show.

The Bubbie was caught off guard, as was I.  "Yes... " I told him, "Today would have been our wedding anniversary, but Daddy and I aren't married anymore, so now it's just another day.  Don't worry about it, buddy."

"No," he said, "it's not.  And it's not fair that Daddy did a selfish thing and chose his girlfriend over us because you're a good Mommy and there's no way that his girlfriend is as good of a Mommy as you are.  Why would he do that?   Why did he choose that?"

"I don't know buddy....." I explained, "I don't know.  But you still see your Dad, and things will get better for all of us, and your Dad loves you, you know that."

"Yeah....." The Boy said, "but it's not the same, he left us.  He chose her instead of us, and that was a not very good decision to make."

See, that's the thing.  I can spoon feed my kid all this bullsh*t about how their Dad still loves them and how this was a promise their father broke to *me* and NOT them... but in the end, courtesy of every fairytale and movie and tv show around... The Boy knows better.  The Boy understands that Daddy left his*family* that *we* were a family and that Daddy's actions tore that *family* apart.

The Boy get's that.  That's not my fault.  It's just not.

But I'll pay the price... because then I have to sit there - on my f*cking anniversary - not only paying for the sins of their father in my own heart and mind and my crying f*cking soul (which at this point is well past ugly cry) - and talk to The Boy about how sometimes we make choices and they hurt other people - but may be we didn't mean to hurt the other people and how in life we have to learn to accept some things even if we don't want.  That we have to accept things and move forward and try again the next day.

F*ck.  I'm so tired of having that conversation.  I'll have it as many times as my son needs it... but it's like cramming a hot poker down my throat every single time.  Every. Single. Time.

"Well you know Mom," say's The Boy, "the other day when we were with Dad, he was making good choices and he said that he's trying to make up for what he did."

"Oh?"  I asked.... "and how's that?"

"Well," stated The Boy, "First of all, he helped me with my lunch first before he ate his own lunch - so he was putting me first.  He wasn't being selfish and eating his lunch first - he was helping me.  So that was a good choice."

"You are right,"  I smiled, "You are a smart boy."

Inside my head however... I'm screaming:  Really?  Really!?!?!!? Because mutherf*cker didn't answer his phone when I was trying to call him to see if he's coming tomorrow or not... and he didn't answer his phone when you guys wanted to bring him your Santa picture.  Nope.  Didn't answer, didn't return the message.

Guess he left us under his car seat again.........?

I got the kids ready for bed and settled them down on our double bed where we all sleep.  I turned on their favorite movie and headed back to the computer... 7 clients jobs to finish before I can pack up business for the holidays.  I dropped my job into the Action Runner (photographers, you should Google it and BUY IT - it'll change your life), then I grabbed my keys and headed out for the weeks second showing of Breaking Dawn II.  The Bubbie and The Papa had the kids, and I could go escape for a few hours in to a place where I don't see his hand cupping her face.

Where I don't see him kissing her.
Holding her.
Making love to her on her emerald green comforter.

Wondering, as these unpleasant thoughts take over my mind... if he's doing those things to her on my anniversary.  If he's next to her right now, loving her and being with her the same way he used to be with me.  I'll tell you what... it's the betrayal that's kills. 

A regular divorce would've been different..... having this done to you is just brutal.  At this point I realize that he's not at all the same 'man' he used to be, and frankly he's a been a bit of a tool for a long time.  But... if I'm being honest, not the kind of tool that ever got the job done, if you know what I mean.  Thankfully, I've always had a drawer of fully charged batteries, so that didn't bother me.

Now however.... the weight of ten years of compromising with a smile on my face, both in my bed and out of it.... *that* has me a little ticked off today.  Ten years of smiles in the face of cheap sh*tty flowers and $3 Hallmark cards.... good grief I'm dumb.
sigh.

So that's me.... if you're still reading... thanks for following me allll the way to the bottom of this hole today.  It hasn't gone this deep and this bitter for a while... but I suppose that's to be expected given the importance of the day and all.

When I got home from the movie, I checked on the kids, snuggled together but The Boy had one arm draped over The Girls' face so I was pulling them apart.  The Boy woke up and said, "Mommy.... I'm sorry Daddy isn't here for your ani-versy......."

"That's ok bud, " I said.... "That's ok because I still have the best part of my wedding, which is you guys, now go back to sleep."

With that he rolled over and went back to sleep.

Happy anna-versery to me... not a happy one, not a totally un-happy one either. 
I still have my kids and a replacement charm bracelet.... I can't wait for this first holiday season to be over and get past us.  I think it'll get easier when it's "the first" anymore.... right?  It has to get better when this becomes our new normal and not just so new and raw and painful.
sigh.

I've never had a type.  In high school I dated football players and nerds and ... well, pretty much anyone who asked me out.  I never saw the point in telling a buy no - dating is about getting to know people, not putting out.  So I was always willing to go out for dinner or the movies if someone asked... even it meant that the usual mean girls would say snarky things like, "Eeewww... you went out with so-and-so?"

Most of those so-and-so's went on to be very successful men.... but whatever.

El Capitan:  he had a type.  A few months ago I saw a blog comment and then emailed that person - knowing that she was mostly likely the girl who dated El Capitan before me.  She was.

We talked for well over an hour - it was incredibly interesting.  Most notably, she told me that years ago when she saw a picture of me from our first Christmas card, she was struck by how much we 'looked alike'.

Aside from Yoga Girl's Ugly Baby Teeth, I had the same thoughts when I first saw her.  El Capitan definitely has a type.... which I think is why it's so hard for me to wrap my brain around *why* this happened.

His ex is funny and bold and well spoken.... she's not afraid to share her opinion and .... she seemed to be a lot like me.  I imagine someone who is willing to lay down with another woman's husband must be rather bold in her own way......

So why leave me for her?  Why not upgrade?  If I was going to lose my ability to watch my children grow and laugh and smile on a daily basis - I sure as sh*t would be getting an upgrade on the deal.  Mind you, I handled the negotiations on the purchase of our home and both of our new cars.... oh, and our divorce.  Perhaps El Capitan will let me handpick the next 'Yoga Girl'.... surely I would do a better job.  For a start, I would set the bar a little higher than *harlot*.  Just sayin'........

So that had me thinking about me.  I'm oddly at peace with things.  Which is odd..... if you believe the opinion of my First Grade teacher, then you would think I've always been a bit 'boy crazy'.  I can't say that I've ever been as choosy as I should have been..... mind you - my past isn't littered with a slew of sh*tty men... kind of just one, to be frank.  The others were nice, things didn't work out.... there's only one that 'got away'. 

Got away because I was a bitch and I made some mistakes.  Mistakes my heart paid for dearly... but, that's for another post, another time.

It's struck me as a bit odd that I haven't been more upset by my newly single status.  Mind you, I would fight like hell to go back in time and stop the douchebaggery clock from ticking - stop the end of the family and the demise of the man I thought was my soul mate.  I would fight for him, fight for my kids..... fight for us.

But that's the thing right f*cking there..... I'm *tired* of fighting.  I'm tired of making all the decisions, tired of making sure things get done... tired of being the man in my relationship.  So tired.

I want someone who will *love* my kids.  Who wouldn't trade in time with them for more time on an X-box.
I want someone who knows what power is and wields it to the benefit of our family.
I want someone who understands how to protect me, how to shelter me.
I want someone who is tall and strong... not like Jacob strong all ripped and stuff (as if that kind of guy would want me... but I digress....), big and tall and meaty.
I want someone with a big chest to bury my face in and get lost in.
I want someone who see's me for *me*.
I want someone who will celebrate me.
I want someone who knows what forever means and wants it as much as I do.
I want someone to wrap me in his arms and hold me and when he does that I'll feel like my heart is safe again.

I'm open to that. Kind of.  I think I'll know when I meet him.... whoever he is.  And if there isn't a 'him' and I'm just destined to walk alone, then I'm okay with that, too.   Frankly, I feel like I already compromised and lost everything, settled for someone I had to fight for everyday... and losing that battle isn't something I will ever do (or put my children through) again.

This sounds completely stupid... but, it's like I think that he is out there somewhere already.  Like, I don't *need* to be worried about any of it... that it'll come together whenever it should.  I'm fine that with.

Right now I have my hands full with two beautiful babies who need all of my time and attention.  They have been really struggling these last few weeks... the coming holidays will be very good for us, I need more time with them.  More time to do crafts and read and snuggle. Just... more time. 

Writing the book was good... but it was hard on them - I was checked out emotionally for about three weeks - but I had to stay "there" in that dark place to be able to write about it. I had to go that place alone - and live through it again and I think that in doing that - I've come out the other side with a little bit of an understanding of how we got to where we are.  Which is amazing.

El Capitan was over today... he's changed so much.  Wears a short faux-hawk that swoops a bit to one side, wears trendy jeans (after years of telling me he'd only wear carpenter jeans) and fancy shoes.  He does things like take the kids to museums and out for Froyo.  Froyo... I literally laughed out loud when he texted me that.  Froyo.  Trendy hipster stuff... the kind of stuff *he* used to make fun of - make fun of other people for doing... and here he is: doing it all.

There he stood in the kitchen, the children playing at our feet, nearly two weeks since they've last seen him, most of that time he wasn't calling, returning calls or texts... and here he stands, as though nothing is wrong, nothing ever happened.  And I play along, because... what's the harm?  What's the harm in letting the children squeal with joy when they see him at the door and run to him with their open, trusting arms?  What's the harm in making polite, non-confrontational conversation?  What's the harm in the children seeing us take equal joy in the 'store' The Boy built to sell Christmas stuff in the hallway?

There's only harm to me... more hurt for my heart, more questions in my eyes that go unanswered... but in doing that, there's no harm to the children.  The fragility of their world stay's unharmed for that moment and that's what matters most.  May be he's not able/willing/capable of protecting the children from his poor decision making.... but I am, I can and I will. 

I could have flipped my nut right there and screamed about where the hell he'd been and such... but to what end?  I would certainly have no more answers than I have right now - I would have set in motion a day with their Father that would be fraught with tension.... they deserve better than that.

I've learned that I can't protect myself and I can't always protect the children from a lot of what El Capitan does.... but wherever I can protect them I should.

So off they went, skipping out to the car, excited and happy.  Dark days have come and no doubt darker days will come again and again and again.... but in the middle we all have to find a way to move forward, even if inch by inch because I have a little girl who loves her Daddy and for as long as that can stay in tact, it should. 

That also becomes my job......
*sigh*.

Like I said, *next time*, if there ever is a next time, it's going to have to be a strong man who can protect me, who wants to shield me from the bad in life, who wants to create that safe place for my heart.  I won't settle again for someone who is just content to let me do all that for myself.

It's clear that El Capitan doesn't know what he wants... or at least he wants me to believe that.  I know what I want, what I really really want:  protection. 

I think it's what every woman wants... to feel fully protected from the world and safe.  Who knows - may that someone is reading this blog right now..... may be they don't exist at all.... but somehow, I have a kind of peace in just knowing what it is I want in the future, even if I never have it.

Mind you, it's hard to miss somt

So today I wanted to be all - I wrote a Book!  And you should buy it!  Yeah me!  And then some stupid f*cking a$$hole shot up the mall.... so I don't feel much like celebrating, to be honest.

I just don't get it.  At all.  I was working on client jobs when I saw a friend in the area make a post about shots in the Macy's at the mall, so I went on to the police scanner (yeah, ok... I'm  a nerd.  However, I have friends who 'protect and serve' for a living and they say when BIG things are happening, if you have the internet, find the open police scanner and start listening - it's more reliable than the news and faster, too).

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  Officers from all surrounding area's, setting up triage posts and witness stations and stuff.  Clearing out the mall store by store - and then probably 30 minutes before the news announced it I heard a male officer saying, "Suspect down in the back hall of Macy's... repeat, suspect in all black is down."  I think at that point they didn't know if there was just one shooter or more.  (Other people report he was wearing camouflage, but on the scanner they said "all black".)

This being the modern age, people were pouring out of the mall and calling into the TV stations like mad giving their first hand accounts of what had happened and what they saw. 

It seems (according to various eye witness accounts) a man dressed in all black entered the Clackamas Town Center through Macy's.  He walked/ran through Macy's wearing a white hockey mask (like in Friday the 13th) carrying a "large" gun.  Macy's opens up in the second floor to the food court area where the gunman then opened fire.

A teenage girl who called into KOIN said that he wasn't "pointing the gun in the air" but actually at people, but at random.  He was just shooting people - but not one particular person.  That poor girl......

A man was in a shop two doors down from the gunman went to the door and saw a couple face down, he first went to them and the man was laying over his wife protecting her.  They were fine.  (PS, *that's* a good husband... just sayin'.)

There was another woman a few feet away, lying face down and not fine.  Amidst the bullets flying this man ran to her side and tried to turn her over to start CPR, then a female nurse joined him.  They tried to help her in spite of the gunman still shooting in their general area.  People were screaming for them to "get down" but they kept trying to help the woman who had been shot anyway.  I'm pretty sure that's the very definition of hero. 

What an amazing man.  Later, he tried to return to the store for his two teenage daughters, but the shop workers had locked the doors and taken everyone back to their storage area and locked that door, too.

That seemed to be a theme, people who didn't run out, ran back and all these mall employee's were locking people into their storage area's.  It took hours and hours to clear the mall because the police were finding crowds of people stuffed into back rooms, locked in and huddled together.

Witness after witness talked about watching people running for the doors, but stopping to help women and children and handicapped people get to the doors *with* them.  How amazing is that?

Right there, *that's* the spirit of Portland.  We're this crazy town with Naked Bike Rides and Gay Pride and Bacon Donuts and crazy ladies who make funny signs: and we're a town that stops to help each other.

Sure, we don't always do it.  We're not infallible.  We're not perfect.  But, I was not at all surprised to hear eye witness account after eye witness account talking about the bravery of strangers.  Not at all. 

For all the horrible things that happened today, for the lives lost in a senseless and cruel manner, there is a small amount of pride that we should have in our community that most people weren't running for their own lives without stopping to help others along the way.

Mind you, it would be nice if these amazing moments of humanity could come to light under different, less horrific and catastrophic circumstances. 

I don't know *why* the shooter did what he did.  Frankly I don't give a f*ck.  AT ALL.  I don't want to hear about whatever sick agenda he had.  I don't want to pay any credence to it, I don't want to give it life and validate it by talking about it.

If he was mentally disturbed and he and his family didn't receive the treatment he so desperately needed - then it's certainly a sign that we should re-address whatever those needs might be within our community.

However..... irregardless of the reasons anyone has for doing such a thing, I hope that the news will focus on what EVERYONE ELSE DID in the face of bullets and death and mayhem.  I hope they will focus on the care people took to shield small children and help move people out of the way. 

I'm certain the acts of *many* have helped eliminate more needless deaths because according to reports at least 20 - 60 shots rang out in the food court/Macy's area of the mall and only 3 people are dead (unconfirmed but the death doll includes the gunman) and one critically injured teenager is said to be "critical condition" at the hospital.  Still, they estimate over 10,000 were at the mall today, I think everyone is surprised more people weren't injured.

I'm 100% sure that actions of the people had to be part of the reason the death toll isn't much higher - their actions of courage and kindness and humanity outweighed the devious actions of one.  That's a powerful thing to think about.

I'll stop there.  I'm sad to say that family friends actually know one of the victims.  They are shocked and trying, like everyone else, to come to terms with such a horrific act that cost and innocent person their life.  My thoughts and prayers are with my friends and their friends family.  I cannot imagine what they are going through.

I was supposed to do some local interviews tomorrow but I called and canceled them all.  It's just not the time.  Not the time to talk about a book when there is so much other good to talk about right now.  Good that can outweigh the bad that happened today.

So that's all from Portland... I'm not a reporter, I'm not an officer, the above is in NO WAY an official reporting of events, just a piecing together of hours of coverage and listening to the feeds and watching the news. 

There's not much left to say....

***************************************************
I know a few of you posted this morning that you were buying the KINDLE version of the book, first of all - thank you! :)  Second... when my foggy heart clears, I'll be setting up a separate area for questions and stuff - someone already asked me if I would do that - and I will. :)

Ok.  I'm off to bed - grateful to live in Portland and proud of the actions of so many.  I'm going to focus on those people, and the victims - not on the deeds of one.  His actions aren't worth my time.

Night Everyone.

So, I was going to write about something else... but tonight has been overshadowed.

I almost don't even know what to say.  Some of you have been reading this blog since day one.  Some of you are family (hi Tante Lousie & Noni!), some of you are friends..... and then there are several of you from the blog who *feel* like friends to me.  Perhaps that's silly and lame and sounds like bullshit, but it's true.

It's true.

I started the blog with no real intentions of anything - I just thought it would be a good way for me (and El Capitan) to make sure that the information out there about our sign and us was accurate information.  Then *you* responded with so much.... and so I kept writing.

As I wrote, the blog became more and more personal, raw and open.  I share everything here, but for people who *know* me - that's not a surprise.  I'm an open if you meet me in person... why should the internet be any different?

So, I wrote a book.  It's the one that's pictured right there.

The book is VERY different from the blog... until the last chapter which is written a little more how I write for the blog.  The blog is personal - it's what I do before I finally go to bed.  Sometimes it's a little more raw and unedited that it should be, the book, however, is different.

It's not perfect, I'm sure there will be a few editing flaws, a few things that could have been written smoother, but it's me.  It's all me. 

I'm raw.
I'm flawed.
I'm real.
I have made, and in spite of my best efforts will continue, to make mistakes.
I wanted the book to be like me:  raw, emotional and perhaps a little rough around the edges.

I wanted to write a book that my children will read in 20 years time and hear my voice in their head as they read it - not some super fancied up version of their Mom that didn't make sense. 

I don't think it's going to be some huge best seller.  I don't think it's going to take the world by storm... but I think for the people in my life who want to read, and the people on this blog and elsewhere, it's a I'm proud to say I wrote and one I think they will like.

So,  YOU, wonderful blog readers with whom I have shared so much of the last five months of my life, YOU are the first to find out that you can purchase my book RIGHT NOW on Kindle (if you have one).  We are only waiting on Amazon to update their files to be selling the book in PRINT - THAT IS COMING in a few days.  So hang in there.... but for those of you with a Kindle, you can buy it now by clicking HERE.

ALSO, I wanted to include the first review for my book:

Andrea's review Dec 08, 12  (She gave it FIVE STARS!!!!)
Read in December, 2012
The Scorned Wife: Slightly Bitter Never Broken by Elle Zober is, quite simply, a modern masterpiece.

I love books. I've read books that I love, and books that I hate; books that make me care about the characters and books that leave me apathetic. This story really made me feel something.

It begins with a young and almost penniless Elle casting out from her American home and finding herself in the UK. The reader watches her flourish and grow alongside her career as a Rock Photographer, in what quickly becomes a who's who of name-dropping that gives the reader little fizzles of electric recognition and delight.

Back to America after a marriage, divorce, ups, downs and a near-death experience, we see our protagonist, this wonderful writer, find her future husband who she weds after only three weeks. Elle had her prince, gave birth to her children and found her happy ever after... for a while.

Whilst not the most polished piece of writing I have ever written, this novel is most definitely in my top ten books that evoke deep, heartfelt emotion within you as you are reading. The larger than life character and strength of Elle shouts out from the pages, and truly astonishes you with her attitude to all that happens to her.

This book made me laugh. It made me cry. For a period of quite a few pages, I thought I was going to vomit, the sense of impending doom was conveyed so well. It was absolutely magical. All that I can say, now that I have finished it, is that I am in awe of Elle Zober; of her strength and tenacity, of her love and compassion, of her courage. To go through all the things in life that are detailed in this memoir and come out the other side takes a strong woman. To be able to write about them, and share them with the world - no matter what it may think of you - that takes an amazing woman.

Elle, I salute you. Thank you for writing such a wonderful memoir, and for having the courage to share the ins and outs of your life with us all. You are truly amazing. And to everyone else out there - READ THIS BOOK. Find out for yourself just what an inspiration this lady is. You certainly won't regret it.

************************

So that's the first review for the book.
I hope you'll like it.  Again - PRINT VERSIONS WILL BE AVAILABLE SOON!  But, for those of you wanting it for your KINDLE - you can click on the photo above or follow the link.

Most of all.... I just want to say thank you.  Thank you for giving me a space to air my thoughts, thanks for your advice and your feedback..... and.... a few of you appear in the book in the final chapter, I hope that's ok.

Mixed feelings tonight.

Oh.... AND BTW - El Capitan gave his *permission* for me to write the book, he knows what went INTO the book, he knows there are pictures and pictures of the kids and everything.  So... yeah. 

I'm off to download my book onto my Kindle now! 
Night!

What a long week it's been.

I swore that this year would be different.  I promised myself, The Bubbie, the children, that I would stop working earlier this year.  That, unlike every holiday season since The Boy was born, that I finish all my work by December 1st so that I can spend time *doing* things.

Like all those cute things on Pintrest people are always pinning.
Bake all those cookies - which we all know I love to eat.... with two cute kids dressed in aprons adding their own boogers and spit to each batch.
Seeing all those neighborhoods around town that put on all the crazy lights and yard art.

I promise myself that I will stop and not let the season pass me by while I sit behind a computer.  Thus far:  I'm failing.

I have a dozen more client jobs and then I quit.... so I'm hoping Friday will be the day.  So is The Bubbie, so are the children.

In the meantime..... you know - in all that extra time I have to ponder life and all it's hurdles as of late, El Capitan made his cyber return.

One teeny-tiny update is that about a week and a half ago, El Capitan and The Big Box Retailer decided to "go their separate ways".  I can't speak to why, I only know that it doesn't involve me on any level.

We haven't spoken all that much in the last two months.  We *talk* - set up times to see the kids, discuss the book, what's in it, etc.  We've had *VERY* long, full and detailed conversations about The Book.  However, once the process on the book got rolling, I kind of pulled back from having lengthy conversations because I was in an emotionally fragile and volatile state.

It's *really* hard to go back and not only think about where it all started.... but *go* there.  Really, truly go back to that time and space where I loved him so much it occupied my every decision and every thought.

It really did.
How sad is that? lololol

And then I have to move through the years and the mistakes and mishaps.... and the people who affected us along the way - who left their stain.  And writing the chapter where I find out about Yoga Girl had me almost catatonic just writing it.

So, I was just honest with him when we'd talk.  I would tell him straight up, "You are not my favorite person right now"  or "I don't like you very much today".  A few times I cried.... a few times he sounded like he might be sorry, but he never really say's as much.  Or at least, not in a way that I believe he means it.

The point is:  we have not fought while he was on the phone at work.  At all.
I was happy enough with that a forward progress.

El Capitan however, according to him, was still prone to anger and some outbursts.... I don't know the details, but El Capitan and The Big Box Retailer decided things weren't "working out."

For me, it's a huge loss.  I can't tell you how many, many years we worked closing shifts.  I say "we" because when HE closed every single night for years.... so did *I*.  When he worked 12 and 14 hour days and every holiday - I worked, too.  First for the family, and for my own business.

In fact, I worked twice as much, because I don't have the luxury of having only one job.
I have two jobs:  Mom & Photographer.... then wife/now ex-wife and daughter and MOMS Club President and friend..... and so on.

So, to have made all those sacrifices over the years only to come out 10 years later and have lost it all.... it's just .... *sigh*.

El Capitan didn't call me for two days.  He called lots of other people.... people who didn't seem that "significant" to him in the past.... but he called them.  When he finally called me, I listened to him for a while.  I heard his feelings and felt and shared his disappointment.

Then I kind of let him have it.  I didn't raise my voice or yell or call him names, but I was was clear:  You have now lost everything.  Our family, our home, you have no car (at least not one you admit owning) we have no savings, no retirement, no 401K and now..... the career we worked so hard for is gone, too.

Perhaps, I suggested, he should write a book: How to Implode Your Life in Under 9 Months.
Because, I politely stated, you've become an expert at it.

Then he got mad at me and broke his phone.

That's how it work, he *does* mean things which I'm supposed to "get over".... and when I *say* mean things, then it's game on and I'm a horrible bitch.  sigh.

Again, I didn't raise my voice.  I didn't call anyone any names.  I just spoke the facts about where we're at and how we got here... but there's a long running DNA strand in his family that has rather extreme emotional reactions to 'accountability'.  (I pray my kids didn't get this.)

But, we didn't fight.  We ended the call by saying that he would see the kids Tuesday..... and then Tuesday came and went, and he didn't show up.  He didn't call.

He didn't return my calls (I made three over six days).
He didn't return my texts (of which I made four).

Then last night at 3 am I got an email saying he was 'sorry' he'd been 'out of contact'.  No mention of the missed day with the kids.  He said he'd been in a 'bad place' and lost track of the days.
Until today - when he woke up sick and thought he should email me.

He lost track of a week?  A whole week?

F*ck, *I'd* like to lose track of a week.  Start April 24th - I'd like to lose track of an entire week- where I could just crawl in a hole and deal with the worst emotional pain of my life.  Deal with my chest that felt so tight from the pressure of the breaking apart of my family that I thought I might stop breathing..... to deal with the stress and the sobbing and the throwing up - so that my face wouldn't get all jacked up for Bells Palsy.

F*cking broke my heart, broke my family.... broke my damn face:  I got nothin'.

I didn't get a week off to "find myself" or "lose track of the days".  I had TWO KIDS who needed breakfast, lunch and dinner.  I had laundry to do, a house to clean, errands to run, client work to finish, oh... and sh*t ton of books on divorce and separation and cheating to read through.....

And, lets not forget handling the first filing for our divorce, yup.... I did that, too.

I lost my life, my love, my happiness, my security, my family, my home, my *Everyf*ckingthing* and I had to get back up everyday - keep going, stop crying - I had to sac the f*ck up and DEAL WITH LIFE.

El Capitan "lost" his job...... and he "loses a week".
*sigh.......*

Then he said that he wants to see the kids on a "set schedule" 3 or 4 times a week.... to which I said, no way.  NO WAY.  His "weekly" visitation has been barely that - and sometimes not even that.  It's unfair to the children to go from "hardly" seeing them to seeing them 4 days out of 7 so that when he get's another job - it'll go back down to once a week again.

No way.  No thank you.   Because *I'm* the one who, like allllllllll the other messes he's made, *I* will be the one cleaning up the emotional carnage from that with the children.  I'm not going to do it.  I don't think it's fair to set them up for failure like that.

So I emailed him back and told him no, that he cannot see the children 3 or 4 times a week.  He is welcome to get on a schedule say - every Wednesday and another roaming day of the week.  That way when he *does* get a job, he can keep Wednesday night every week and another day (because his day off in the future could be a weekend, or it could be a weekday).

I heard nothing.  His email said he would call to set up the week's schedule, he did not.
I called twice... he didn't answer.
sigh.

I don't *get* a break.  I'm a Mom.  There IS *no* vacation from that...

Last week... I wrote 11,000 words for the book, blogged 5 nights, did 18 clients jobs (which involves proofing 20,000 images and then editing the good ones), I shot a family, then a pre-school doing 30 kids.  Oh, and I took our kids to The Great Wolf Lodge for two days driving two hours each way and working six hours the night I drove us home.  I get about.... 4 hours of sleep if I'm lucky.  That's *is* I don't get woken up because someone pee'd the bed we're all sleeping in, or if The Boy hasn't leapt out of bed at 5 am to find our Elf on The Shelf and come screaming back into the room because "Bob" found a new place to hide.  And then the day starts over by 10am with client work and phone calls and emails to editor and meeting with book store people.... and on it goes.

That was my week.  One week, and I did it all with a smile (most of the time) and I'm not special, I'm just a Mom.... and Mom's get sh*t done.  Period.  Well, this Mom anyway......

I got my first book review... pretty awesome.  I'll write about that tomorrow. :)

For tonight, I'm going to head to bed early and snuggle my babies and turn on Break Dawn Part I and all asleep.  Not because I have to, but because I choose to.  I choose to be here everyday, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it's been..... it's always been a choice.  Mine was to say.  His was to leave.

He needs to