My mom, the control freak.

Recently, my mom moved in with us. We live in a three bedroom house, the boys share a room, which is not as cramped as you'd think. They have the biggest bedroom in the house, it literally is takes up half the second floor. Then we have two smaller bedrooms, one of which my husband and I share with our daughter. She's only a year old, so we have at least another year before I'm comfortable enough for her to be in a room by herself.  Hopefully by then we can get the attic situated. It needs paited, badly, and possibly rewired. But it would make another two bedrooms, which would be perfect.

Since my mom moved in, things have been a tad more stressful than they were before. That is putting it mildly, if I was really honest, I'd just flat out say she drives me batshit crazy. She is set her ways, and I am set in mine, and they are almost the total opposite of each other. She co-parents all the time, which drives me nuts, and quite often lets me know I'm doing things "the wrong way." I'm sure it comes from a good place, but she doesn't seem to understand how much fun it's not when somebody is constantly looking over your shoulder and correcting the things they deem wrong.  I'll give you some examples of things that she does that makes me want to throw her off a bridge.

I have a usual routine for my day. I get up at six, start the coffee, read the paper and check the news to see what I missed. My oldest, who is usually up before I do, gets ready for school and will watch a TV show before he has to leave at 6:50AM. Around 6:30AM my mom will wake up and begin to get ready for work. Brian and I will talk before he leaves, and I'll lay out the clothes for my three other kids. He heads off to school and my mom comes down for coffee right before he leaves, and she'll say to me "Does he have all his books? Did he take a shower? Is he staying after school for anything today?" While my oldest is standing right there, instead of asking him, she asks me. Why does she do this? I have no idea, but for some reason it drives me nuts. Brian will leave and I'll wake up his brothers and sister and get them dressed. From 7:00AM until 7:45AM my mom is in and out of the bathroom upstairs as she finishes getting ready for work. Occasionally(depending on how cold it is outside) she'll yell down to turn the heat down that it's too hot. I rarely turn it on, and when I do it's never past 70. Then I wake my husband up at 8:00AM, and my mom comes downstairs to get another cup of coffee, bring down any dishes or glasses she had in her room over night, and proceed to ask me the same questions she did before about Brian, about Connor this time. Then she'll say something like "This is what you need to do today...." and proceed to list everything that I already know I'm doing, but she feels the need to inform me of it. Drives me nuts. Her and my husand leave about 8:20AM, she takes him to work and then goes to work herself. Throughout the day, she will call my house two to three times, and I usually don't answer the phone because I know it's more lectures on what I "need to be doing".

In the afternoon, Brian gets home from school around 3:30, then Connor gets home around 3:50, and for about fifteen minutes the house is nothing but chaos as they talk about their day, chase each other around the house and get an after school snack. I'll start dinner about 4:15 or so, depending on what I'm making and how clingly my daughter, Brigit, is. It will be ready about 5:30 or so, when my mom gets home from work. The kids will eat, I'll try to, and my mom will get something. She'll ask if I made coffee, to which I usually say "No, do you want me to make some." And she'll say no, meaning yes. Then she'll tell me I should get the dishes done now so I don't have to do them later. Then she'll ask if the kids have clean clothes for the next day, and tell me I should do a load of laundry. Donnie will get home from work close to 7:00PM, he'll get something to eat, drink some coffee, and usually he'll throw Brigit in the tub and get her to bed by 8:00PM. Then he'll bath Connor and Quinn, read them stories until they fall asleep. From 8:00PM until 9:30 or so is my down time. I get to do what I want for me in that time, usually. From the moment Donnie takes Brigit up to bed, until 9:00PM, when I have a Do Not Disturb programmed on my phone, my mom will call my house at least four times. Where is she when she does this? Upstairs, in her room, watching TV. She'll ask me to look something up for her, or she'll start in on her "Why don't you do this...." talks. It drives me nuts. There are other things that annoy me as well. For example, just recently,  I went to the grocery store the other day, I had a list, my mom gave me a list of her own. No big deal. Well, one of the items was orange juice, and into the fridge it went. This morning, she went to get some and it was gone. It was only a half gallon, but she was actually pissed it was gone. "I only had two glasses of it." was her response. Well I'm sorry if my kids drank it, too. So, being the mature person I am, I told them(in front of her) that they could no longer drink the orange juice that I bought.

And her cat. You don't EVEN want to get me started on her cat. The damn thing has, on multiple occasions, jumped on top of the stove to get food from it, which my cats NEVER do. The other day, Quinn opened the fridge to grab the milk out, walked it to the dining room table(leaving the fridge door open), and Reeses got into the fridge and drug out a small chunk of ham she proceeded to eat. I was ready to kill her. She has peed and pooped on several blankets and clothing, which she stopped doing THANKFULLY. But when somebody is eating something, she'll jump up on the table or get in their face trying to get at it. Our couches don't look the greatest as it is, but she(on both couches) crawled under them and scratched the bottom part out so she could climb up inside them. DRIVES ME NUTS!!

Like I said, I know she might mean well, but she drives me nuts and she knows it. I wish she would stop co-parenting, I wish she would stop talking to me like I am a fucking five year old that is missing part of her brain. I wish she would let me do things the way I do them, especially when it comes to my kids. Just because it's not the way she would do things, does not make it the wrong way. They're not dead, they are not little deliquents, they do not get in trouble in school, and they are not evil and cruel, so I must be doing something right. Right??

Vent and rant over.
Have a good one folks, doesn't matter what that one is, just make it good.

I'm not young.

As I'm sitting here, writing, I'm reminded of the line from the parody song "We're Not Young". Well, almost the whole song really, lol  Hell, the whole song is about me, well, except for the prostate, pot and ring bit. For those of you who haven't heard it, here is the video:::

Now, let me expand on that. My name is Carey, and I'm 36 years old. I was raised by my mother, after my father left because he couldn't handle kids, along with my two younger brothers and younger sister. I went to Catholic school from Kindergarten to Senior year of High School. Did not go to college like a lot of my "friends", instead, I spent two and a half years after High School in a pot haze. I ended up engaged to a guy that I thought, at the time, was my entire world. We quit smoking pot, moved from friend's house to friend's house, until one night his buddies stopped to visit, he didn't come home when I thought he would and I found out he was leaving to go to the beach with them that night. He broke my heart, and I almost joined the army. I went as far as taking the physical exam, but chickened out. I then moved to Iowa(at my cousin's request) and hating it there. The apartment she lived in with her boyfriend was a roach infested piece of crap about a mile away from downtown Des Moines. I worked at Burger King downtown until the manager of the place hit on me in such an uncomfortable way that I quit. I then took a job at an arcade at the mall, and thought that maybe things would be okay, until my cousin accused me of sleeping with her crank addict boyfriend. I said "Fuck this." and left to come back to Altoona. I lived with my dad brieftly, until he had one of his "You are nothing but lazy pigs." fits(which he often had) and he kicked my mother, who had moved back in with him at the time because she lost the house that I grew up in because he refused to help in any way, my sister and I out. We moved in with my Aunt and cousin in Bellwood. My mom, eventually moved out, and I stayed in Bellwood with my Aunt and cousin. I worked at a convience store on Main Street and I LOVED it. Then I met a guy named Larry, and thought he was my world. He really wasn't. I remember that for the 2000 New Year, we were to go to State College with my friends and have fun. Instead, he drove me to the cemetary acroos from Wal-Mart so he could visit his Grandma's grave. The stroke of midnight I was sitting in his car, so pissed off and ready to bury him right next to her. At the time, I thought he was an asshole when he broke my heart, turns out he was gay(well, bi-sexual) and just didn't know it. 

Then I met Tom, nickname of "Stretch". He was seven foot tall and I thought really good looking. We started dating, and I was happy. On May 20th, 2000, my birthday, I found out I was pregnant. He seemed happy, he had a daughter from a previous relationship, but she lived in New York with her mom, so he didn't get to see her as much as he wanted. Then, about eight months into my pregnancy, he asked if I could check on his ferret while he was in Maryland doing a job. I said sure. Went to feed it, and did the nosey girlfriend thing. I found letters from a woman named Marcia and pictures of the two of them. I was pissed. I waited until he got back into town, and confronted him about it. He denied it all, but then I called Marcia. She told me she didn't know about me, which I found out later was a lie. So I told Tom we were done, and he could be as involved with his son as he wanted to be. He was there the day Brian was born, and he visited him in Altoona once or twice. He told me he broke up with Marcia and wanted to be a family with Brian and I. I almost believed him, until I was told that he and Marcia were at a bar the weekend before. Brian was six months old at the time. Tom was in the hospital having surgery on his foot. I took Brian up there to see him and told Tom he had two choices..start paying child support or he could sign off his rights to Brian. He choose the second. That was the end of Tom....at least at that point. 

The fall of  2001, I signed up for a computer class at the G.A.C.T.C in Altoona. They shoved a lot in that course, but I passed with a certificate, worked at a laundry mat the entire time, then not long after got offered a job at Blair County 911. Training was hard, but the worst part was the police ride alongs. We had to do one with the city police and the township police. Both ride alongs ended at the hospital. Township police, we were sent to do a welfare check on an elderly man. It turned out that he had fallen and hurt himself and was unable to move or call for help. His house was also infested with fleas and stank to high heaven. His dogs hadn't been outside in days, so you can imagine. That's the day I found out the Vicks Vapo Rub under the nose really does cut out any other nasty smells. We escorted AMED to the hospital, and I went home. The ride along with the city police was the worst. Normal boring stuff, and then there was a call for AMED to go to a home with an unresponsive baby. It is protocol that on any calls involving AMED and kids, the police are called as well. We went, and found out that AMED was about five minutes out, the fire department(QRS) was there as well, and the police officer I was with, as well as a fireman, were attempting to give the child CPR. They decided that rather than wait for AMED, and since we were only six blocks away from the hospital, to take the child in a squad car. One of the fireman and the officer I was with jumped in the back, I was in the front with another officer and we sped to the hospital. For twenty-five horrible minutes they tried like hell, but they could not revive the baby. I've never seen grown men cry before. The room, full of fireman, police officers, doctors, nurses, eveyrbody was crying. I didn't stay the last hour of my ride along, I went home and hugged the hell out of Brian. It was horrible, and I never wanted to see anything like that again. 

Once training was over, we were put on the dispatch desk. That required us to not just dispatch the calls, but take them as well. There was an order to it, and it was easy, depending on what was going on. Fire dispatch was the worst, I was never very good with confusion anc chaos, and that was fire. AMED wasn't too bad, figuring out which department went where when it came to the more countryside calls was confusing sometimes. City police dispatch was easy, County dispatch was the one I loved though. So many different police departments from all over the county, it was never a dull moment. I would walk to and from work, and before I would stop at this convience store. That is where I met Donnie. We would flirt and joke around, and I honestly didn't think anything of it. Then, one day, Brian and I were on the bus headed home from McDonalds, and there was Donnie. We got to talking more, and ended up getting off at the same bus stop. As it turned out, he lived one block down from me. As Brian and I were going to walk across the street, he asked me out on a date. I pointed to Brian and looked at Donnie and said "You know I'm not babysitting, right? He's my son." And his response was "Yeah, so?" He gave me his number and told me to call him. After consulting with a close friend, and hearing the song "Friday, I'm in Love" on the store speakers(it was a Friday), I took it as a sign and said yes. We would have phone convesations that lasted hours, and I found out that we had a lot in common. He was fantastic with Brian, which was a real plus, Brian was three at the time. My mom, who I was living with during all this, started to give me a hard time. Saying I was "too old to be kissing boys". Donnie was seven years older than me, lol So I moved out and in with my friend Lori. 

We threw a New Year's Eve party, in which Donnie's friend Mark came. He and Lori hit it off, they ended up getting married. Then, Donnie offered for Brian and I to move in with his mom and him. Yes, he lived with his mom and I didn't care. We did, and for a couple of months it was not fun. So, we moved out and got a place of our own. Not long after, I left the 911 center. As much as I liked that job, the pay was horrible and I could not emotionally handle the fact we had too many non-happy ending calls. I began working at a video store, which I eventually left right before Brian started school. I then started working at Dunkin Donuts and Woody's II. The one day, at Woody's, a girl I went to High School with came in and I pretended not to know her, told her I had taken a blow to the head and had amnesia. Worst moment of my life. I was embarassed to be working there, which was stupid because at least I was working. Because we made such little money, we applied for help. We were on Section 8, and we did get food stamps. Donnie worked full time as did I. About a year later, I found out I was pregnant, but was having a miscarriage. I thought it was my fault and felt like shit for quite some time. Then, a few months after that, I found out I was pregnant again, and this time I was further along and everything was okay. In November of 2006, Connor was born. I had to quit my job, because I had no sitter, and that meant we were stuck on assistance for longer than I wanted to be on it. Yes it was helpful, but you have no idea the amount of dirty looks people give you, the judgement that you get from people who don't even know you. When Connor was a bit older, I got a job working at a nursing home in the kitchen. I found out that I was pregnant. I was having another boy. June of 2008, Donnie and I finally got married and I lost my job because I couldn't do what was needed of me. My doctor put a limit on how much I could lift because of certain complications that I was having. The boss did not like it and she told the other employees to make my life miserable. They did. The only reason I found out about it, is because one of the other employees who didn't like what they were doing told me. We moved into a bigger apartment, and in October of that year, Quinn was born. For two more years, we stayed in those cramped apartments, I tried like hell to find a job, and couldn't. Donnie continued to work his ass off, and we fought like crazy. During one of the times I was angry with him, I threw one of my brother's hockey sticks up against a wall(in a standing position) and it bounced back and hit me in the face, chipping three of my teeth. Our insurance, at the time, did not cover dental. And we didn't have the money to pay for me to get them fixed. So THAT helped my self-esteem, let me tell you. Then, in November of 2010, we moved into a house. It wasn't the greatest, but it was bigger and it was nice.We were still recieving assistance, and my new goal was to get the hell away from it.  Brian went to a new school, and the year after, Connor started school. I then was able to find a job taking customer service calls for DirecTV. It was a fanastic place to work. Fun, energetic and friendly people. Fantastic benefits, and oh yeah, I was pregnant again. The job paid really good money, and was so easy. They didn't care that I was pregnant because I sat on my ass all day. I worked second shift, so I had my mother-in-law watch the three boys for me until I got home. About seven months in, I came home from work to find out that around 9:30 that night, Quinn, who was 3 at the time, told Margie( my mother-in-law), that he was going to work. He had her put on his shoes and button his coat, and without her realizing it, he walked out the front door, down the porch steps and stood on the corner to "wait for the bus". Some random lady saw him, pulled over and called 911. That's when my oldest, Brian, noticed the commotion outside and drew Margie's attention to it. Who knows what would have happened had this lady not stopped. The street we live on is busy, people rarely stop or even slow down. What if a pedo had saw Quinn first? I was scared shitless about the idea of Margie watching the kids anymore, but she promised me it wouldn't happen again. The following week, Donnie got sick. Really sick. Hospital sick. So I missed work because Margie refused to babysit while Donnie was sick because she didn't want to get sick. Then I got sick, I went to the doctors office, one I'd never been to before, and sitting there, seven months pregnant, he asked me if I was on any illegal drugs. I told him no, and he looked at me like I was lying. Then I realized, it was because I was talking to him with three chipped teeth he thought I was a drug addict. I was mortified and pissed off at the same time. I kept thinking that I just had to hold on a little longer, the dental at work would kick in and I could get them fixed. I went back to work with the doctors excuses(mine and Donnie's) and was told that the approval for the time I missed might not go through. I had two choices, be fired or sign a voluntary quit paper. I thought about it, and signed the paper. I wish now that I didn't, I wish that I would have fought it or something. The only good news I got that month was that I was having a little girl. In June of 2012, I had Brigit.

It's now 2013, the year is almost over, and what do I have to show for it. Four wonderful, fantastic, although hair pulling kids, a husband who drives me nuts most days, lol, and that's about it. I'm still in the same financial shithole I was in seven years ago. Minus the Section 8, that is. You see, my mother recently moved in with us. It was to help each other, so we could dig ourselves out of the holes we were in and hopefully come out on top. Well, so far it's dug the hole deeper. We still get food stamps, which is embarassing as all hell, even if it it helpful. I hate telling people that. The moment they hear that they look at you like you are a lazy piece of shit. If I could get a paycheck for what I do, I wouldn't be in this mess. I see so many posts on Facebook about how people are sick of "losers" on Foodstamps having an iPhone, or they shouldn't be allowed to buy junk food with the EBT card, or how they are leeches and lazy and a detriment to society. Do they really think I LIKE this? Do they think I don't want better for my kids? That I don't want to set a better example? Do they think I like being judged by so many for the actions of the few??? I fucking hate this.

I am a stay at home mom. It's not that I haven't tried to get work. I do so well, until the interview and they see my chipped teeth, which I found out recently just need to be pulled, that there is no fixing them. That will cost me about $6,000 to do. I get up at 6:00AM, make sure my oldest is ready for school, he leaves at 6:50, I make a second pot of coffee and get my three other kids up to get dressed. Connor goes to school at 8:45, and that leaves Quinn and Brigit at the house while I try to do the dishes, and clean up the crazy morning rush mess. I'll go to the grocery store if needed, do laundry. Get Connor off the bus at 4:00, then start dinner so it's ready by the time my mom gets home from work at 5:30. Donnie gets home from work around 7:00, he eats while I keep the kids at bay, then gives them all their baths(except the oldest), and puts them to bed. I take that time to do something I want to do after I get the kids clothes ready for the next day.

My life is on a constant loop. We are always a half a step ahead of the bills, and that small gap is closing. I've done nothing with my life, I don't work, or at least I don't get a paycheck for what I do. I refuse to go to reunions because of the way I look. I find it hard talking to people, I'm so afraid that they'll judge me. I've tried to train my mouth to talk without showing my teeth, but that isn't easy. I don't want to leave my house, which affects my kids, because on the weekends Donnie likes to take them on walks and I don't go because I'm afraid of running into people he knows and embarassing him. I run into anybody he knows and I try not to talk to them for too long because of it, so they end up thinking I'm a bitch or something. I don't even know.  I joke about having my doctor diagnose me as an agoraphobic so I don't have to leave my house ever again.

It's not like Donnie and I really went out on dates before, I don't really go anywhere with my friends because let's face it, I don't really have many friends. The friends I had in High School are pretty much all gone. Most of them left after I had Brian because, to quote one of them "Why would we invite you anywhere when we know you're going to say no." Yeah, thanks for that Metzgar, sorry I had a kid and had a hard time getting a sitter so I could go out with you guys. That doesn't mean you should stop asking you prick. The friends I had after High School are all busy with their own lives and have almost no idea as to what is going on with me now, outside of the occasional phone calls and Facebook updates. I understand that, even though it hurts like hell, I know that the world does not revolve around me, lol

I wish I could win the lottery, so I  would have the money to be deemed a worthy human being, not just by others, but myself. Until then, I won't stop trying to find a job, and my goal is still to get off assistance, and get my teeth fixed, and get a car, and buy a house in the woods, lol You know the drill.

Have a good one. Whatever that one is, just make it good.