Today has been wonderfully great. After finishing my post from the morning, I went immediately into family mode where I was able to spend one on one time with my “Doodlebug” who always asks but never gets while cooking breakfast for the rest of the family. Shortly before finishing up, Provi-Dovi came down to have food served to her (which always means she eats more). Two kids fed, one baby one Daddy and one kiddo still sleeping at 9:30am – happy mom, all around. Once I plated breakfast for the kids and Daddy, I headed back upstairs to check in on the baby and get some much needed rest after being awake since 6am. Prudence and Providence played nicely downstairs while Mommy chilled in her bedroom watching Daddy eat and play video games. Soon after that, Patience woke up on her own. I sent her downstairs to her food and with the task of cleaning up the downstairs area for Mommy’s Christmas decoration plan.
Since Mom passed away in 2009 I have not felt at all like celebrating the holidays, let alone decorating in any meaningful way. Therefore my holidays have all gone plain jane until the day before it becomes necessary to decorate and then I rush around like a mad person throwing up last minute things to look festive and like it had been jolly the whole time only to be left up until many months later when someone starts poking fun at me too often for having left winter holiday decorations up into the easter holiday… again…
Not today! Today I feel like getting some holly jolly yuletide feelings going in this house and I want to keep them brewing clear through the new year. All of our real decorations that have meaning and have made it through the countless moves and relocations are locked away in storage until we can pay that bill again. But no fear, we live in a garbage dump of a house where the basement is full of cool things the owner and the tenants never touch nor care to pack away safely where the grown adult snoop is NOT likely to reorganize in an attempt to free up some space in her tiny bedroom by storing things in a basement like most normal people with a basement in their house tend to do but due to my inability to have a landlord that acts like a landlord, is relegated to acting like a sneak and randomly boxing up groups of similar items and packing them in smaller out of the way piles never to be touched until some buffoon comes and clears the basement of all the mess when the house eventually gets repossessed. I’m like the rat bastard in the basement that is cleaning up their mess so I can have space in the house to be messy. How messed up is that?
Anyways, planned on pulling out Christmas decorations from the basement believing there to be massive amount of festive junk to fill our house with.
I was wrong. REALLY REALLY WRONG. After joyfully heading down into the dank, dark, spider webbed hole we call a basement, I quickly found my “bountiful Christmas stock” was actually just one big box with a few big non-cool items arranged carefully to look full but not really provide any substance by way of exciting the kids with the cool-factor of decorations galore. Yeah, I found some sparkly garlands which the girls loved…and is now sparkling all over my floor… I found a broken Baby Jesus manger with broken people to surround his empty manger with. It felt oddly appropriate considering I aborted the baby I hold in my mind to be Jesus and I feel the world is full of broken people. So why wouldn’t the whole manger scene be a whole big weird mess of crap? Feels more honest this way. Probably looks really white trash to the eye… Oh well, I’m kind of trashy that way. Came up with two of the creepiest animated figures ever. Santa and his elf are currently lighting up my living room and creepy the fuck out of me every time I walk by them. And I have a box of Christmas tin-like boxes I’m trying to figure out how to use without having to spend money to make them useful.
While I didn’t come out with a festively decorated wonderland, I did get to see my daughters excitedly decorate and redecorate the different areas of the house with garland. Eagerly they would want to show off their work every time they made a change to it. For something so little, it feels they really did something big. And it made the cold downstairs area I prefer to avoid feel a little warmer and filled with love. Some day I plan on filling that downstairs with furniture and comfort so my little ones can have a beautiful place to enjoy their holidays from. One day is not today and I’m okay with that. Because right now I have a broken and bent piece of patio furniture acting as a couch that is currently decorated like a gaudy thrown for crazy royalty while being surrounded by the very obvious leftovers work scraps from the innocence of children while hard at play. While they were hard at play I got to dig through the crap in the basement and clear out some more stuff in my mind in the process.
Soon after the Christmas extravaganza I went upstairs to relax only to pass into hibernating lump on the hard floor soon after sitting down. I remember sitting in the chair, talking merrily to my husband. The transition from that to the floor is foggy.
But I do remember waking up to my husband letting me know he was taking the kids to his friend’s house (The friend who can’t stand me but still wants to be friends with Patrick) so he could do our laundry in the really cool “does all the work for you” washing machine setup he has going on over there. After railing on the man named Tim Boling, let me tell you the God’s Honest Truth about him. He’s a really good fucking guy, he’s just the wrong type of crazy for my personal brand of crazy. It’s like a psychopath butting heads with a murderer – they both do the wrong thing but they do it in different ways. Unfortunately my crazy rubs Tim’s crazy the wrong way – and no guy likes to be rubbed the wrong way. (heh – managed to get a sex reference in there!) Tim is fiercely loyal to Patrick, wanting the best for him, and doing “his” best to help where he can. Where all of Patrick’s friends have turned away because Pat is unable to give time to their relationships because of the sinkhole that is our life and the timesink that is his wife, Tim is actively fighting against my husband’s reclusive traits and trying to stay active in his life. These are shades of friendship my manic bitch side refuses to admit. I’m the bitch in the middle willing to lay all of my bullshit to the world. Good, bitchy, or other-wise. Because in the end, I need everyone to be happy. Patrick likes Tim a lot and enjoys hanging out. It is a shame that the two craziest people in his life can’t get along for the dude just trying to chill between crazies. But that’s life.
I’m on the end of willing to back the fuck off because I lose my shit when Tim comes knocking. Seriously happened. I walked downstairs and saw his face and ran back upstairs and started screaming like a buffoon about “Tim Mother-Fucking Boling”. I went on like an idiot about “Tim Mother-Fucking Boling” who in my mind was entirely separate from the man I know to be Tim Boling, who I really love to hang with. My bipolar is fucking crazy sometimes and this type of enigma I cannot express clearly. I can REALLY LOOSE MY MIND at some aspect of a person – in this particular guy the “Mother-Fucking” portion, whatever the hell that means, but still love and appreciate every other good in the person without needing to address the portion I cannot stand. People can’t understand my manic trains of thought because usually they are standing like deer in the headlights as my passion and flare for dramatics is staring them dead in the eye and barreling through them like a bull in a china shop. Probably too scared to know what the fuck to do because I am BAT SHIT crazy. You’ve probably heard of Batman and the Youtube guy Badman. Well I’m Batshista – the bat shit crazy sister from anutha mutha who is whiter than yo brutha but talks like a trucka
Okay, I’m going to stop. I may have crossed a couple lines there…
In closing, today is going great. I am sitting here with an afternoon to myself and loving the heck out of the simplicity of me and Patrick-Henry. I love my little-man and I am really loving my life on the lump.
As I finished typing lump, I swear to the All Mighty Above, Patrick-Henry just took a dump expressed through a large butt rumble. Simply Awesome!!!