‘Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was hurting–even the mouse.

The toys were all broken, their batteries dead;
Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.

Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor, while
Upstairs the family continued to snore.

And I in my T-shirt, new Reeboks and jeans,
Went into the kitchen and started to clean.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little white truck, with an over sized mirror.

The driver was smiling, so lively and grand;
The patch on his jacket said “U.S. POSTMAN.”

With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox
Then quickly he stuffed them into our mailbox.

Bill after bill, after bill, they still came.
Whistling and shouting he called them by name:

“Now Dillard’s, now Broadway’s, now Penny’s and Sears
Here’s Levitz’s and Target’s and Mervyn’s — all here!!

To the tip of your limit, every store, every mall,
Now charge away-charge away-charge away all!”

He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work.
He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk.

He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road,
Driving much faster with just half a load.

Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer,
“ENJOY WHAT YOU GOT … YOU’LL BE PAYING ALL YEAR!”

Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas! I’ll be back to my regular blogging in a couple of days. Chao!

T’was the night before Christmas,
He lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house,
Made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney,
With presents to give,
And to see just who,
In this home did live.

I looked all about,
A strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.

No stocking by the mantle,
Just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures
Of far distant lands.

With medals and badges,
Awards of all kinds,
A sober thought
Came through my mind.

For this house was different,
It was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier,
Once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping,
Silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor,
In this one bedroom home.

The face was so gentle,
The room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured
An American soldier.

Was this the hero,
Of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho,
The floor for a bed?

I realized the families
That I saw this night
Owed their lives to these soldiers,
Who were willing to fight.

Soon round the world,
The children would play,
And grownups would celebrate
A bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom,
Each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers
Like the one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder,
How many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas eve,
In a land far from home.

The very thought brought
A tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees,
And started to cry.

The soldier awakened,
And I heard a rough voice,
“Santa, don’t cry;
This life is my choice.

I fight for freedom,
I don’t ask for more,
My life is my God,
My country, my corps.”

The soldier rolled over,
And drifted to sleep,
I couldn’t control it,
I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours,
So silent and still,
And we both shivered,
From the cold night’s chill.

I didn’t want to leave,
On that cold, dark night,
This guardian of honor,
So willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over,
With a voice, soft and pure,
Whispered, “Carry on Santa,
It’s Christmas day, all is secure.”

One look at my watch,
And I knew he was right,
“Merry Christmas my friend,
And to all a good night.”

This poem was written by a peacekeeping soldier stationed overseas.The following is his request:

PLEASE: Would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our American service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let’s try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.

“Oh, there’s no place like home for the holidays” rings true while some are driving and flying to their holiday destinations this weekend. But what is it that constitutes home? Is it simply being with “your” family–the parents and siblings with whom you grew up–or is it being somewhere you feel comfortable (can be with parents and sibs), or is it altogether somewhere different?

We were planning on traveling down to visit my parents and my sisters this Christmas. Until Wednesday night. I lost it when Del asked me to go pack. I asked him to come to the bedroom for some company and he got upset with me. I needed to talk to him and I felt like I was being shut out, so I picked up two duffel bags and the book I was reading and huffed out of the room. An angry and upset huff. I closed the door to our bedroom loud enough for him to hear but not hard enough to cause damage. I just wanted him to know I was upset.

When he came in a few minutes later (I had cooled down by this point) to change Sami’s diaper, I asked him to come back so we could talk. While changing Sami, Del told me sometimes it feels like I can’t do anything on my own and that’s what upset him. I had told him I wanted him for company because I needed to talk. I was trying not to be too obvious about my intentions in front of his parents.

As we talked, I realized again that I haven’t been treated right over the years by my mom or my sisters. I cried over how my kids were hurt in daycares that she chose and how she doesn’t understand what it is to raise a child with emotional issues. She says she does, but I know it’s not true because none of us kids had emotional issues when we were growing. Not issues that stemmed from sexual abuse. She raised us at home until kindergarten. I would have stayed home with my kids, but I had to work and go to school so that I could feed them and keep a roof over their heads. I asked if my mom could help by watching the kids while I was in school, but the answer was a resounding no. This stings even more now because she’s doing the very thing for my youngest sister that she refused to do for me. And I was in the same situation–single mom (except I had two instead of one) in school. What’s the fucking difference?!?

Oh, and then there were all the times I asked my mom to come over to visit or if I could bring the kids by to visit. Trust me when I say it was a hell of a lot easier for her to come to me. 1, because she didn’t have to load four kids in the car to visit and 2, because she worked in the same town I lived in and could theoretically come by after work. Why was this harder than driving 2 1/2 hours to see “an old friend” (read: my former babysitter) who had triplets and “needed help with the babies”??? Again, this is not logical to me. Why are someone else’s kids more important than her own grandkids? Did she think that I didn’t need help or want the company? She couldn’t come over and spend an hour at my house before or after work and visit with me and the kids but she could drive more than twice that–every weekend for at least 2 months–to spend the weekend with “an old friend” and her 3 newborns. If I had asked for help with my newborn daughter 2 years ago, I doubt I would have been given the same.

There are other things that my mom has done over the years that make me angry and hurt. She’s always treated me like a child, even now she still feels the need to mother me like I have no clue. Yes, I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve learned from them. Something she apparently hasn’t done.

Now, let’s talk a little about why I’m miffed with my sisters. We’ll start with E, who got married earlier this year. Knowing that the hotels in Biloxi and Gulf Port were still full with Katrina refugees, she planned a wedding in Biloxi. So, where were all the guests going to stay? Most of us were driving 6-8 hours from northern Alabama to attend her wedding. We had to stay in Mobile, at least an hour’s drive from Biloxi. Then, she asked if my older kids could be in her wedding–William lit the candles and Tracey tended the guest book–our youngest sister to be matron of honor, and our second cousin (year younger than William) to be the flower girl. I wasn’t even considered to be in the wedding party. “We have a small wedding party and thought you’d understand.” Gee, thanks. At the last minute, I was asked to print the programs and play for her wedding. What’s up, E, you felt guilty? I was already feeling bad when we headed down to Mobile, and the change of altitude and climate didn’t help. I played through a headache and stuffy nose the night of the rehearsal with a pianist with whom I’d never performed.

We didn’t make it to the rehearsal dinner because we didn’t know where to go. No one told us! I had all these directions that were e-mailed to me, but I didn’t know when to use which ones. So, when everyone is leaving the rehearsal, I tried calling my mom, both sisters and J (E’s husband) to find out where we were going. No one bothered to ask if we knew where we were going either. No answer on any phone, so we headed back to Mobile. Halfway back my mom calls my cell and asks if we’re coming to the dinner. Um, no, we’re halfway back to the hotel with four tired kids (the rehearsal lasted at least 2 hours) and I’m sick. Besides, we didn’t know where we were going. “But you knew I was cooking for you!” Um, no, I didn’t. Didn’t you hear me tell you I didn’t know where we were supposed to go? “Well, you have directions, don’t you?” Yeah, but there’s nothing to indicate when I was supposed to use what directions. (We had to buy William a pair of pants and I had to hem Tracey’s anyway so it worked out for us. I just hate that my mom makes everything about her.)

Fast forward to the next morning, 5 am when the alarm goes off so I can get ready for the bridal breakfast–7 am at E’s house in Biloxi–and grab my clothes and flute for the wedding. This would have left Del with the kids all morning and Tracey’s pants were still unfinished. I was feeling so poorly the night before that I fell asleep at 10ish with needle in hand! I couldn’t move when the alarm went off. Vaguely remember the knock at the door 45 minutes later when my mom wanted to leave for Biloxi. Del answered the door and told my mom that I was not feeling well and couldn’t make the breakfast. Well, that brought up feelings that I wasn’t aware of. Del later told me that my mom started crying and “it’s her sister” and “are you still coming to the wedding” and other crap. Damn it, I was sick and couldn’t even move out of bed due to the fever I had. Besides, if we weren’t planning on coming to the wedding, we wouldn’t have driven 6-8 hours to get to Mobile. It would have been much easier to stay home. Made it to the wedding, but Sami was loud and didn’t want to sit, so I took her out and didn’t hear their vows. Really, it was no heartbreak on my part. I was still hurt.

My youngest sister, J, has never been a daughter to my mom. She’s always been a companion or a friend. My mom turned a blind eye when J started using in middle school. By high school, alcohol had come into the mix. But I still wasn’t forgiven for mistakes I had made and made right just a year before. I doubt I’m forgiven now. Anyway, back to J. She was using and OD’d a couple of times, ran off for days on end with no contact with anyone and was VERY promiscuous. Wound up pregnant by an abusive boyfriend and fellow druggie. Yet, this is all ok and my mom was supportive during all this!! Even after J’s son was born, my mom kept him when J ran off using again. That still makes me angry that my own sister can put drugs and alcohol before her own kid.

She met someone in rehab, starting dating him, had her kid, married J. He ends up being abusive and controlling after they married, so she backed out and filed papers before their second anniversary. She has the kid, even though he adopted and is trying for custody. Oh, and anything my mom comes down on me about, sis J is right there backing her, not even knowing my side of the story and not caring to know either. If “mom” says I’m wrong, then it must be true.

Wednesday night, I had told Del that I couldn’t go down and face all those smiling faces with all the hurt that’s going through me right now. I wasn’t just crying by the end of our conversation; there were times that I was sobbing so hard that Del just held me. He knew I was upset. He’s seen the way my mom and sisters treat me and doesn’t like it anymore than I do. So, all day Thursday I contemplated how to tell her we weren’t coming down. I mean, it’s easier said than done to tell her that we’re not coming after all. Friday morning, she calls while I’m running an errand to the school. In total, she called my cell phone 4 times and the land line 3. One of those calls to the house was my sister J, playing stoolie once again. I called back and told her that we were all sick–you’ve read my posts about the sickness going through my house–and we couldn’t travel. I hate traveling when I’m sick because I get tired and cranky and sicker. We would have been very poor company for Christmas if we did come. The kids are still coughing and have runny noses, and I still have that annoying crud in my throat. “We’ve all had it here, too.” Yeah, just another reason for us not to come down. Besides, she’s not traveling over 1400 miles one way in a matter of 2 days for a 4-day visit. The kids have to go back to school Jan. 2 and I’d like them to try to recover from these colds they have.

She made it all about her, of course. “What is it that has made you so angry with me” and “we need to talk and work out this animosity between us” and “one day you’re going to wish you had called because one day I won’t be here” and “try to have a decent holiday” are what I was hit with. I swear, woman, if we weren’t planning on coming we wouldn’t have bothered to buy the gifts for the swap. Which, BTW, will be there later in the week because I haven’t mailed them yet. Then, she starts crying on me. Yech. Grow up and accept that you can’t always have things your way. There are some things that are worth more than getting the entire family together for Christmas. Like living through the holiday because you didn’t try to drive while you were sick.

So, we’re spending Christmas at home. Upstate New York, living in the same house as my in-laws. And I’m happy about it. And yes, I’m still sick. *sniffle, hack, cough*

Yep, I’m finally making myself eat better. Took long enough, huh? Anyway, it’s easy to eat healthy foods when they taste great! Saturday night, Del and I went to a Christmas dinner at one of his colleague’s house. His wife made the best salad I have ever eaten! It was really quite simple, and I bought the winter medley salad kit, a couple of pears and a tub of blue cheese so I can eat a great tasting salad at home.

Pear & Walnut Salad

• winter medley salad kit–greens, walnuts, and cranberry vinaigrette dressing
• 1/2 medium pear, cubed
• crumbled blue cheese

Place greens in bowl. Top with pear and walnuts. Drizzle lightly with dressing. Top with crumbled cheese. Enjoy!

That’s all there is to this delicious salad. It includes all the food groups you need except bread, but you can add a few croûtons to take care of that. An added plus: my kids thought this was really good and I had to fight them off my salad because they were picking off my cheese and walnuts!

Wow. Never thought I would actually say that!! William and Tracey aren’t here right now. Yesterday, their father flew in to Burlington, VT and then drove to Plattsburgh, NY to see the boys. They’re all at his hotel room for the weekend. The house is going to be quiet this weekend…

Anyway, this is the deadbeat who we had to garnish because he wouldn’t pay willingly. He also very rarely calls, and when he does, I have to ask him if he wants to talk to the boys. He never calls to talk to them. Only to arrange stuff with me. I don’t like him and I dislike my kids spending the weekend with him, but he is their father and he did come up here to spend time with them–because his wife bought the plane tickets and paid for the hotel room.

That’s the whole reason why I’m antsy and I will be until the weekend is over. I really don’t like this at all.

We’re having some trust issues with the older boys. Not because we don’t want to trust them, but they haven’t shown that they are trustworthy. Many times, they tell us untruths, knowing they are lying to us. They believe it’s to their own benefit, but that’s a common misconception with many habitual liars. I know they’re kids and they’re trying to get “done” and get back to the fun stuff, but lying to parents is never a good idea. It makes it hard to know when they are telling the truth.

Example: The boys have very few chores that are expected of them. One of these is folding laundry. Not a big deal. Last night, Del saw a pile of clean clothes–clothes I had just washed–behind the bathroom door. I was asked what those clothes were and I told him that they were from the load I just washed. I knew who was responsible, but I also know not to question him about it because I don’t want him lying to me.

His punishment shirking the laundry and lying about it? He has to finish the load from last night plus fold one load from today by himself. He also has to write 100 lines of “I will not deceive my parents.” He piled the clean clothes behind the door hoping I wouldn’t find them and then said he was done with the laundry. I even asked him if they were folded and put away correctly! It steams me when my kids do this. I don’t like being put in a position where I can’t trust my own kids, but they also have to work with me and tell me the truth about things. We’ve had other issues of the boys stockpiling clothes in their room because they didn’t want to fold them. Then they wonder why they don’t have socks and underwear two days after I wash…

*sigh* When is it supposed to get better?

Yes, you read that correctly. Yesterday was a very long day. Sami’s cough had not gotten better as of yesterday, so I took her to the doctor. We were sent to the hospital for chest x-rays (neg. for pneumonia) and then to the lab for blood work (white & red count normal, sed rate high). With the sed rate high on her blood, that means Sami has an inflammation somewhere in her body. I’m supposed to take her back in today if her fever isn’t better. The doctor thinks she may have a UTI this time that’s making her little body sick with fever.

William and Delbert are now coughing the same croupy cough Sami and Tracey had. Nice to know that viruses still spread throughout households. Remember when I said we were trying to keep my SIL’s kids from getting sick? Well, they got sick and so did she. Life sucks sometimes.

On the plus side, where Sami had not been eating or, more importantly, drinking for the last couple of days, she’s now drinking Pedialyte like it’s the best thing in the world. Delbert is downing the orange juice. It’s good to keep them hydrated; we’ve dealt with dehydrated toddler in the past and it’s no fun at all.

I was in town all day yesterday and got absolutely nothing done in the house. We left at 10 in the morning and got home at 3:30. Not fun at all. No proper naps for the kids and Sami had to get stuck for the blood draw–she was a trooper and didn’t cry at all. Just looked at the catheter, looked at the tech and said, “Ow” in a condescending tone. She’s so funny at times, even when sick. And she told the doctor yesterday “I sick. I sit on table.” It was cute.

Sami seems to be feeling a lot better today and is drinking with gusto. She’s even venturing past the ice cream she ate last night and is eating some dry cereal and Yogos. I hope my kids get to feeling better soon.