So last night D asked me why I had gotten divorced.  It’s been a while, and I had to think about it because there were about eleventy billion reasons and not all of them were good ones.  Some of them make me kind of ashamed of myself and I’m embarrassed to admit them.  Some are too private – some even too private for me to admit to myself, if that makes any sense.  Some of them make you go, “Well, duh, you should’ve been divorced about ten years before you were!”

I almost broke up with Ex before we even got married.  We were in Chicago for the wedding of one of his best friends, and Ex spent the entire weekend fucked up beyond belief.  Clearly drinking in general doesn’t bother me.  Drinking excessively on occasion is fine too.  He wasn’t an occasional heavy drinker.  He was an always heavy drinker.  Like so heavy that a few times he didn’t wake up to pee and I got hit in the back with it.  Uh gross, that’ll wake you right up.  Anyway, back to Chicago … he was totally blotto, and I didn’t know any of these people, and he kept leaving me alone.  I’m painfully shy, so I wasn’t happy with that whole situation.  Plus, I was pregnant, so I couldn’t just join in all the drunken revelry.  That may have contributed to my being so sensitive about the whole damn thing.  At one point, he went off with this chick he’d gone to high school with, and they were gone forever.  They came back holding hands – to clarify, they were coming back holding hands, and I ran into them.  Um, uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to describe how that felt.  He swore up and down that nothing had happened, and really I didn’t care if anything had.  What I cared about was that he left his pregnant, shy girlfriend alone but was perfectly content to go off for over an hour with stupid high school girl.  That’s not cool.

I ended up going to bed alone that night, and he stayed out with his friends.  The next morning, the first thing he did (and I seriously mean first thing – he was still in bed) was reach over for his flask and start drinking again.  You know, hair of the dog and all that.  Ick.  I was like, “Motherfucker, is that how this day is going to start?”  Needless to say, it was another bad day. 

The next morning we left Chicago, and the whole plane ride home I was thinking, “I’m going to have to break up with him.  He treats me with absolutely no regard, and I’m not going to live like this.”  Thirty seconds would go by, and then I’d think, “But fuck, I’m five months pregnant.”  When we got home, I went to bed even though it was only like two in the afternoon, and I think it was about three days before I spoke to him again.  I’m not sure if he noticed!  But I knew I was too chicken to leave, that I was going to marry him anyway, and that no good would come of it.

I stayed for nearly eleven years because I’m stoopid like that.  It wasn’t all bad, but the bad stuff was things like I never had help with anything – like I was responsible for all the house stuff, making appointments, cleaning, laundry, etc etc.  If something needed to be done, I did it even when we were both working, and even when I was working and he was in school for like only twelve hours a week and had time to help (which was why it was funny, for me anyway, to watch his house stuff completely fall apart after I left – it was like, see, do you finally know all the crap I did for you???).  It was a lack of help to the point of he’d leave socks on the floor in the living room and not bother to grab them and put them in the hamper at some point.  I could leave them there for weeks, vacuuming around them, and they weren’t going to move unless I moved them.  That’ll wear on you after a while.  I couldn’t stand to eat in the same room as him because watching him eat made me nauseous.  I couldn’t stand for him to touch me.  He quite literally made my skin crawl.  He would say, “I love you”, and I would say, “Uh-hunh”.  And yet somehow, when I finally grew a set and said, “I’m done, I’m outta here,” he was surprised.  Completely clueless.  He later said he had been unhappy too.  That’s fine.

But the main reasons were that I didn’t love him and I wasn’t attracted to him.  It wasn’t fixable, and I never should’ve married him in the first place.  You have to wonder if I learned anything from it, and I think I did.  I know not to get married again unless I actually want to marry the dude.  That’s a good lesson.  I know not to get married to someone who pees on me.  Kind of duh, but true.  I know not to get married unless it’s going to be an actual partnership.  That’s why I think it’s really important to live with someone before you marry him – though I did live with Ex.  I just ignored all the signs.  So I know not to ignore signs.  I know I don’t want to get remarried anytime soon!  If I do it again, I want it to be right and I am not ready for that just yet.


So my ex-husband called today and asked if I could by any chance take Munchkin tomorrow night.  Uh no, sorry, my parties are so not appropriate for the under-21 set!  He was like, “Well, my step-daughter is going to see her dad, so we thought if you could take Munch, we could go out.”  Oh, I could not stop laughing.  I was like, “Dude, no way.  I’ve had this party planned for two weeks.  It’s not gonna happen.  Can you ask your mom or something?”  He was like, oh yeah, that’s a good idea.  And this man went to Rice and has a massively genius IQ.  You’d clearly never know it though.

Radical Mama and Avitable have both done this Elf thingee, so I decided to do it too.  At 10:44 on a Friday night.  That’s sad.  I used my Wee Me face for it because I don’t have any pictures of just me.  Is that weird or normal?  Anyway, here I am.

I have the munchkin for the weekend.  He was going to play Oblivion, but Guitar Hero was already in the XBox.  So rather than getting up and switching the games, he’s playing guitar on a regular controller.  He won’t even get up to get the little fake plastic guitar.  I think I might be ashamed right now.

But really, is that what I should be ashamed of?  I’m thinking not.  I’m thinking this is what I should be ashamed of:  my darling child said the words “nut sack” and “wang” today.  Right in front of me.  Actually, and more to the point, to me.  He wasn’t calling me either of those things, rather he was referring to them because the dog was stepping on his junk.  I guess this is what happens to twelve-year-old boys who have mothers with mouths like mine.  But he could’ve just said, “Mom, the dog is on my junk!”  Jeez …

Hey!  He just got up to get the guitar!  It’s a proud moment.

Tomorrow I get to go Christmas shopping for this same kid with my ex-husband and his new wife.  That should be fucking awesome.  I can think of many things I’d rather do than this, but we’ve discovered it’s the best way for us not to duplicate gifts and for stuff to be even money-wise.  Ex is pretty good about adhering to my budget, as far as I know anyway.  He could be going out and spending a bunch more money after I’m gone.  You never know.  The point is, if he’s doing that, it’s not in my face and I don’t have that, “Oh, I can’t keep up with you” thing going on.

I’m totally bummed.  My sister’s having this party in Austin this weekend and I can’t go.  There’s the issue of boarding the dog which I would do, but he just got boarded for Thanksgiving, and I’d feel bad about doing it again so soon.  Also, it’s my weekend with the kid, and since I didn’t have him for Thanksgiving and I didn’t have him last weekend because of Ex’s wedding, I would like to spend some time with him.  The party is sooooo not going to be kid-appropriate.  The invitation was along the lines of “2007 sucked … let’s get drunk!”

It’s okay though.  She and her husband will be here the weekend after, so I’ll see them then.  We’ll make up for me missing out, but we’ll have to be somewhat well-behaved since I do have the damn Christmas skating show on that Sunday, so I need to not be barfing and stuff like last weekend.  Of course, I do plan on having a drink or two before the show.  I’m sorry, but there is no way in fuck I’m doing “The Island of Misfit Toys” in the fucking Rudolph show without a buzz.  The other adult in the show thought that we should sneak alcohol into the show.  Really, it’s not a bad idea!

My coach introduced me to drinking before skating.  Clarification:  he introduced me to drinking before performing.  When I played hockey, it was kind of expected that you’d have a beer before the game (gaggers – that sucks on your stomach).  This is a little different.  The issue here is more stage-fright than anything else.  So last summer, when we had to do an exhibition, D was like, “Make a drink before the show”.  I was all worried about it, but I did it anyway.  And yes, it totally helped.  If only I had known about it when I was in ballet.  Of course, I was only legal for four of my performance years (I retired from ballet at age 25 if you don’t want to do the math) so it would’ve been an extraordinarily bad idea, but hey, whatever works.  Anyway, so the other day he asked me if I was going to drink before this show, and I said “You know, yeah, I am.”  And J, who is in the show as well decided that was a pretty good idea and he thought he’d drink beforehand too.  We are setting very bad examples.  D has also suggested from time to time that I drink before my lessons.  I get a little spazzy for him sometimes.

All right, I’m off to bed.  I think I want to be well-rested for the group shopping.  No need to be a snarky little bitch because I’m tired or anything.

Why is it that when I find a new blog I like, that person takes a vacation from writing?  Generally what happens is I get bored and I start clicking on blogs on people’s blogrolls and I’ll run across a really good one, and blam!  They take a month off.  That sucks.

 In other news, regarding my ex-husband’s upcoming nuptials, I’ve decided to take the saintly route rather than wonder any longer how he won the contest (it’s not a contest as I’m not participating in dating which makes it extremely hard to get married).  See, when I left him, I did not scar him for life as originally accused.  What I did was set him free from misery, giving him a chance to follow his bliss.  Which he did immediately with some woman in Seattle (this is not the same woman he’s marrying – she is the second woman he dated and is from Indiana but she says Chicago.  No comment), but as my sister put it last night, clearly he needs someone to take care of him which is why he began internet dating approximately sixteen seconds after I left.  Eeewww.  Anyway, I’m sure anyone can see how good and virtuous and saintly it was for me to get out of the way and let him find his true love.  My halo fits quite well, thank you for asking.

Munchkin’s step-mom to be is coming to pick him up tonight since ex-husband will be picking up his sister at the airport.  This is weird.  Do I invite her into the family room?  Or does she stay in the foyer while Munch grabs his stuff?  At my ex’s house, he used to invite me in, but once step-mom moved here last week, he kept me confined to the foyer.  Rude.  And she didn’t even come say hello.  Double rude.  So, I think that in keeping with my new saint-style persona, I will invite her in.  She doesn’t have to come in, but I’ll at least invite her.  And then I’ll let the dog jump on her.  No!  Bad Renee!  Not saintly at all.  Shit, it’s hard to be angelic.

I figured out the chair situation for my dining room.  I’m just getting boring Parson’s chairs since they’re so easy to slipcover and that way, I can change the look of the room with the seasons or with my whims or whatever.  Look at that – I can be the consummate mind-changing woman.  How fun!

My dear sweet skating friends are taking me out December 1st and getting me schnockered out of my mind as that’s the day my ex-husband is getting remarried.  I’m fine with that, but I do think that if there’s any day in your life that you’re allowed to get memory-erasingly blotto, it’s the day your ex remarries.  I told D that my only requirement for the night was that somebody had to make sure I got back to my house because I have no desire to sleep somewhere strange that night or drive home in the morning.  Plus I have a dog which is pretty much like having a kid except you can be fucked up around your dog.  You do need to be home to let the dog out though.  Now having said that, I seem no longer to be able to get shit-faced because I’ve mastered keeping a good buzz without getting stupid.  So it will probably end up where nobody has to responsible for me, and we all just have a fun night.  Yay!

All of which brings me around to the worst hangover ever:  I went out on a Friday after work with my ex who was not my ex at the time, and I was drinking wine.  Oops.  I thought I was fine, and then I wasn’t.  It was like going from pleasantly buzzing to completely fucking gone in five seconds.  I told him I was going to the car, it was time to go home, and please pay the tab, let’s go.  That’s my memory anyway.  He showed up at the car fifty-two hours later and finally took me home.  I managed not to barf in the car, but as soon as I got to my bathroom, it was coming out.  This is the previous marker for the non-pukage streak, by the way (before the painkiller earlier this year where I learned that apple juice doesn’t qualify as food for pills you have to take with food.  That’s where my current streak starts).  Anyway, I think I passed out after that.  I spent all day Saturday in the bathroom where I learned it really is possible to have it coming out both ends at the same time.  I thought that was a myth.  You just have to pick up a trash can for the front end, and it’s all good.  I spent Sunday in bed trying not to barf again, but really, there was nothing left.  I lost seven pounds that weekend, so yeah, I’d do it all again. 

I cleaned the bathrooms today, and I need to record this for posterity: it took an hour and twenty minutes.  So it’s not that bad.  Next time I’m procrastinating, I just need to remember that it takes less than an hour and a half, so just do it already!  Plus if I’d do it more often, it would take even less time.  My bathroom is by far the worst since a) it’s the master and therefore the largest and contains that stupid bathtub that is used for trash/recycling/dust collecting and takes freaking forever to clean (don’t worry, the trash and recycling go into containers which are stored in the tub, not directly thrown in there.  Though I do miss with nasty cottonballs and Q-Tips more frequently than I care to admit), and b) I don’t know how it happens, but my make-up ends up everywhere.  And I do mean everywhere.  There’s this slightly pink powdery coating on freaking everything.  It’s pretty impressive.  It’s even on the lights.  How???  Tomorrow after Munch gets out of school and I finish skating, we’re dusting and doing the floors, and then the house will be ready for decorating for Christmas next Sunday.  I’m all sorts of excited about that!

My ex-husband is a douche.  I had forgotten that little tidbit because we had been getting along so well recently, but he’s up to all his old tricks again.  I can’t rehash it because I’ll get all pissed off again which will lead to more stomach issues and perhaps more zits in even more unmentionable places.  Though now I feel I need to explain.

Okay, so first of all, he’s getting remarried on December 1st.  This is fine – hopefully she will be able to fix a couple of these issues, but if not she’ll just be one more person on my list of people who can kiss my ass.  Whatever.  The problem here is the honeymoon.  I knew they were going on one.  Who doesn’t go on a honeymoon?  Oh right, I didn’t.  I guess that’s what I get for being seven and a half months preggers when I got married.  Anyway, with the wedding fast approaching, the other night I asked Ex if they were going on a honeymoon.  He said yes, they were leaving on the 2nd and coming back the 5th.  Okay, well, what about Munchkin and school and all that?  Oh, it turns out he thought that Munchkin would just stay here and I’d take him into school.  I’d have no problem with that if school started at, say, ten.  But it doesn’t.  It starts at 8:30.  It takes me 45 minutes to get from here to school when there’s no traffic.  At that hour though, I think it would take over an hour.  That’s fucking ridiculous.  So Munchkin is going to stay with his grandparents since it’ll take them five minutes to get to school.  I got pissed because he didn’t even ask me – I had to ask him, and he just assumed.  Don’t get me wrong – I would love to have the Munchkin all the time, but I don’t.  And I can’t ask Munch to alter his schedule to that degree.  He would be a miserable child.  He’s one of those kids that really has to have maximum sleep.  What I really want to know is when Ex was planning on informing me of his plans.  They affect my kid, and they affect me.  So that’s inconsideration number one.

Number two is that he keeps leaving me out of school stuff.  Like progress reports and activities and whatnot.  Somehow that information never makes it to my house.  Then, when Munchkin has another not-great progress report in English, Ex goes and makes a parent-teacher conference appointment without consulting me about it or finding out a good time for me to go.  So what happens is that he tells me at the very last second that there’s a meeting, and it happens to be at a day/time I can’t get to the school.  Thursday at 2 would’ve been fine.  Friday at 2 is not.  Really, how hard is it to say, “Hey, we need to meet with Munchkin’s English teacher.  Her conference time is 2.  What day is good for you?”  Duh!  It’s just so freaking inconsiderate, but it’s just like him.  He did this crap when I was married to him, and it’s like you’re blindfolded all the time and you have no idea where you are and you just keep bumping into shit and falling down.  It sucks so much ass.

Lastly, and this is the big one, he showed up here last night to pick Munchkin up, and he was dee-runk.  I could smell it coming off him from ten feet away.  I told him, and he said I was being ridiculous.  I was like, “Ex, I can smell it from here.  I know you’ve been drinking.”  Drinking is fine, but I’m not putting my kid in a car with someone who is clearly drunk.  He said he’d had two drinks.  That’s what people always say when they’re lying about how much they drank!  Always!!!  That was my mom’s favorite lie.  “I have two drinks a day”.  No, honey, you have two an hour.  All day long.  Anyway, I said I’d prefer to drive Munchkin back to his house myself.  Ex said, “Why don’t you just call the cops and have them arrest me?”  Okay, getting a little dramatic, are we?  He’s like that though – you’re either okay with everything he does and everything is fine, or he’s a big loser and you hate him and you want him in jail.  There’s a middle of the road here, and for me it’s this: You go ahead and run your ass into a ditch, but I’m not putting my kid in a car with you.

So he kept yelling at me in my kitchen about how I was trying to run his and New-Wife’s life regarding their honeymoon and how I was overly-sensitive about drinking because of my mom (guilty) and how that ruined our marriage and how I was just trying to start a fight, blah blah blah.  In myhouse he was yelling at me!  That’s not okay.  Meanwhile, I’m dumb enough to point out a few other issues like that Munchkin needs new shoes, that he wore dress socks with his falling apart sneakers to school because Ex hadn’t done any laundry in so long, how Munchkin needs a haircut, and how I found out Munchkin hasn’t been eating breakfast and it is the most important meal of the day, etc.  Really not the time or place.  Ex is supposed to take care of all the clothing and that kind of stuff since he’s primary custodian and he makes like ten times as much money as I do.  Sometimes I’ll do it and he’ll pay me back, but he doesn’t always pay me back, so sometimes I have to remind him of these simple care-and-feeding-of-your-child rules.  Jeez, I’m not asking for much.  The dude is freaking loaded.  I mean, he just bought a Mercedes GL 550 which is a $77,000 SUV, so I think he can afford to buy his kid a couple of pairs of sneakers.  It’s just not a priority for him.  I think that’s fucking retarded. 

In the end, all I’m asking for is that some pretty simple needs are met, and right now, I don’t think they are.  Hopefully New Wife will make sure the kids (she has one) eat breakfast before school, and that they look nice with decent shoes and haircuts and clean clothes.  Really, is that too much to ask?  I’ve thought about fighting the custody issue, and it’s the same problem as originally.  I don’t have the firepower that Ex has.  He can bury me in lawyering – all they have to do is drag it out, and I run out of money way before he does.  He doesn’t mind pointing that out either – “Go ahead and fight.  I’ll bankrupt you in a month”.  Fucker!  Power-tripping fool.  Gak I hate his sorry ass!  I am so freaking happy I’m not married to him anymore.

I was so upset last night and this morning that I had the grossest stomach problems, and I broke out on my chest.  Awesome, boob zits.  That’s nice.  They’re not really on my boobs, but close enough that the only way anyone is going to see them is if they take my shirt off.  That’s not happening anytime soon, so I guess I should be happy I broke out on my chest rather than my face!

My kid has the snottiest smart-mouth on the planet.  I kid you not.  If snot-nosed bratisms were an Olympic sport, I’d live vicariously through him for that gold medal he would surely bring home.  He was being totally obnoxious in the car on the way home from school yesterday, so I told him that it would be in his best interests to stop talking for the rest of the day.  Of course he didn’t.  So I said, “When we get home, I want you to look up the word ‘belligerent’ in the dictionary and write a paper for me on why you’re acting that way, why you shouldn’t act that way, and what you can and can’t get out of life by being belligerent.  You may not write down the definition plus a bunch of synonyms.”  Heh.  This is my new favorite punishment.  If you’re going to be an ass and get yourself sent to your room, you’re going to get a good vocabulary out of it.

Okay, so he goes up to his room and returns a few minutes later with the dictionary and claims he can’t find ‘belligerent’ in the dictionary.  I said to sound it out.  Nope, he wouldn’t try again.  So I took the dictionary, found the word, and read him the definition (hostile and aggressive).  Well that pissed him right off.  “I’m not those things!” he shouted.  P-shaw, yeah you are!  He then flat-out refused to write the paper (perhaps ‘obstinate’ would’ve been a better assignment).  I told him to write it (and please, I only wanted one page, so we’re talking thirty minutes max) or he would be grounded until Sunday.  He chose grounding!  Chose it!  My gosh, I used to beg my parents to spank me rather than ground me so it would be over with faster.

So my ex calls me this morning wanting to hear what had happened because he got the munchkin’s version on their way home last night.  Shockingly, he thought even last night before hearing my side that the munchkin was wrong!  I couldn’t believe it.  Ex is always saying that I’m too strict and I need to loosen up, etc.  Not this time!  He said the mouth is totally out of control, and what’s more, he would keep the grounding up at his house as well.  Whoa!!!  I’m still floored hours later.

I will say that the one thing that sucks about the grounding is that I really wanted to go to IHOP (don’t laugh, I heart IHOP) on Saturday after my figures class.  I may still go and leave Mr. Mouth at home.  He’s twelve; I think he can handle it.  What’s really sad is that my Wii is supposed to be here on Saturday, and he won’t get to play.  Life’s tough kid!  On the other hand, we have a bowling tournament this weekend for Organ Donor Awareness that he gets to play in – I’d take that away too, but my mom would quite literally kill me considering she helped organize it; plus she had a liver transplant, so it’s kind of an important deal around here.  So it’s not like he’s not getting out of it a little bit.

Speaking of IHOP, I wish there were more independent restaurants in the Dallas area.  Like when I go see my sister in Austin, there are so many great indie restaurants.  Austin Java(warning: loud website) is a favorite.  They make these pancakes that are so giant that they hang off the plate.  I can’t finish one, and I can eat the crap out of some breakfast food.  My sister loves the potato omelette.  Then she gets a junior pancake as a side.  The junior doesn’t overflow the plate, but it does fill it.  Dang, it is a lot of food!  They have awesome coffee as well.  There’s nothing like that around here.

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