Sunday, April 10, 2011

So Depressed

This week as I was out side in the back yard playing with Lilia and Trinity. All I could think was I am taking them away from one of their favorite things. I felt incredibly guilty for taking them away from their yard. Almost so much so that I want to put the kibosh on the whole dam thing.

Then my mother started giving me a hard time about two things involving my-week-before-we-leave-birthday-bash-for-our-soon-to-be-two-year-old. She wants to sell our lawn furniture before then. Um no. We live at the corner of Grand Central Station and Penn Station... we can sell them five minutes after the party. The second was when I said I planned on sequestering the smokers to a far patio in the yard. She flipped out it's my house you can't do that. I said it' my kid's lungs you can go out that day. I know I am the uptight bitch about all this stuff. I was forced to live in a house full of smoke and a car full of smoke with the window cracked if we were lucky. The smoke still builds up even outside when you have ten people chain smoking. It builds up with one person smoking. Then I got heckled by her boyfriend-who-has-no-business-asking about-my-stuff-in-her-house because Paul left tools on a work bench that he saw in December. I am totally dreading her arrival home. I don't think it is going to help at all. Also if these party shenanigans keep up I am going to either cancel it or have it at the freaking park or church and forget to invite all our blood relatives!

Next up peas. I freaking hate peas. You couldn't pay me to eat them, well maybe a couple thousand dollars and I would consider it. Paul also is not a fan of the pea. Lilia didn't like them when she was little. However in an attempt to woo her back into eating vegetables, I bought some. Tonight it worked she ate a ton of peas. However, it sent me flashing back to the time I went to visit my father in the nursing home and they had given him a fork to eat peas for dinner. He was legally blind, wheel chair bound and had very little strength in his hands. Why the hell would they have given him peas to feed himself? I showed up, happened upon the situation and fed him the peas. I also brought him meals he could easily fill up on and feed himself once a week. Food from the outside like Burger King, Pizza and sometimes iced cream. That way my seventeen year old self knew that he had a good meal at least once a week. Well good in the sense that he could get it into his mouth. What a miserable existence, left to die in a nursing home being force fed nasty food. He wasn't the same after the coma, but his long term memory was fine. So he sat there knowing full well what he was missing out side those miserable places. With the emotional capacity of a 12 year old. It must have been living fucking hell. He longed to be with his family, who never came to see him. Just the site of the peas launched me into remembering all of this and I felt the tears coming as my breath caught in my throat. I willed them away. I hate that he had to live like that more than anything in the world. Currently I hate that seeing my daughter eat freaking peas opened the flood gates to all of that. Now I won't be able to shake it for days. You know him being sick, Dale being sick, Tim being sick, Pop being sick, Grammy being sick... and all but Dale dying. I could handle that, but why did everyone have to throw him away. Why did everyone take the easy route out.... out of frigging sight out of mind. The suffering alone for all that time... that is what gets me every time.

Moving on, as you can see I am not in the best mood. However I was hired to do a first birthday party. I was sitting here working on it tonight. Crafting away making some personalized decorations. I had to pull out some of the stuff from Lilia's first birthday. I swear it feels like that was five minutes ago. Anyhow, I feel like I could have done it so much better, I bought so many store made decorations. I guess I just went with the kind of stuff I wanted as a kid. I have found that I am getting much more creative this time around. All this stuff I am telling you about here in my I-am-so-depressed-I-want-to-cry-myself-to-sleep-but-I-have-more-paper-to-fold-blog, this bothers me the most. I feel like crap I am throwing some other kid a better first birthday than I did my own. WTF? Her party was ok but I feel like I wasn't game on with it. I could have been so much more creative than I was. Maybe it was those glittering "1"s? We all know I can not resist glitter, another one of my very few, typical girl traits. It kind of reminds me of how I felt about my hair and pictures post wedding. Why is it the parties that don't really matter I can get right but the ones that do I can't?

Today I a grateful for the time spent with my dad housing Rodeo Cheese Burgers and Big Macs. Even if it was in a skanky ass nursing home multipurpose room.
May you be blessed with cheap bad for you food and great company to share it with.

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