This Girls big Change

I know, its been a few months. My apologies.

But time went fast. Once kindergarten started things became a blur.

In September I had a meeting with Jane. You all remember Jane?

Jane the mistress.

Jane sent me a message apologizing for her role in the break up of our marriage. We met, and that will be its own post later, but she informed me that there was another woman. Another woman that Dick and Jane worked with that Dick was dicking with. (I'm kind of having fun with Dick and dicking and dick...)

So all his apologies, all his 'I feel so bad I hurt you's' meant nothing. Then October came and I saw way more of Dick than I wanted to.

October has three birthdays and Halloween. Each time I saw Dick I had to focus on controlling my anger. All of our family was awkwardly around for all the birthday's wondering what was going to happen...and nothing did. We kept ourselves in check and the birthday's went fine.

We even took the girls trick or treating together.

Yes. Rub your eyes and reread that. In the interest of our girls we took them trick or treating together and again, it went fine. But my ability to cap my anger at him deteriorated with each encounter.
He said a great many things that made me bite my tongue but the one thing that let the cannon lose was "I don't understand why your so angry?"

Really? REALLY?

As it turns out, according to Dick, the issue of his infidelity is over and we have moved on.

Yup, that's right. The issue of his infidelity is over and we are moving on. There were hours of texts between him and I because I couldn't actually believe that this would be over because he just said it was. 

It may be years before I recover from his violation of our relationship and family. And then I had to remember a crucial point. 

Dick is a narcissist and you cant apply common sense to a narcissist. It will drive you crazy. 

So I told him I can no longer talk to him. Period. 

November was pretty quiet. 

In early December we had a divorce mediation. It failed. He expected me to sign the divorce that day, even though I expressly told him that I was not going to sign until I had time to process had have my say. He walked out of the mediation so angry he refused to talk to our daughter for two days. 

I have spent a lot of time doing this

And some time doing this 

And little bit by little bit I am recovering. I have started freelance writing...which is scary for me. But exciting too.

I also started a separate blog So You Married a Narcissist because there is so much involved with narcissism and it is so hard to overcome their manipulation this part of my life needed it's own home. 

And soon, very soon, I will start selling some crochet artworks. 

As you can see, I have been very busy, but I have been dedicating myself more to my writing...and there will be more soon...

This Girl, the long week and more of the truth

I was told this week by Dick, my ex, that I am a rotten person because I don't want him to be happy.
Well that's not entirely true. I don't care if he is happy or not. I really don't have the energy to spend on his well being anymore.

I was told this week by Dick that I am a bold faced liar because I had been telling everyone that he had been having an affair for six months with Joan. He admitted only he slept with her once before our separation...after spending two weeks denying the whole affair.

I was told this week by Dick that I was purposely trying to turn his family against him by spreading these bold faced lies. In reality I have been asking his family to be there for him. I told his dad when I filed for divorce and he should call Dick to check in on him.

It was a long week. Dick's family gathered to bury his mother at sea.  I did my best to be above reproach and help the family move on, it was incredibly hard. So much happened that it took me fifty minutes to explain it all to my girlfriend. She talked for two minutes, but otherwise listened.

After his admission of the affair yesterday I asked if there were other women and his answer was a weak and vague no. So I am certain there were others. Today a friend told me that Dick was seen in bars making out with other women and trying to pick them up while I was at home in my third trimester taking care of our other two.
 He was tonguing women in bars while I was at home. I cant even begin to express myself.  So it must go back further. For years, I am sure.

The saddest part of all of this is he gets to go have his jolly's and I get completely screwed.
I have lost nearly everything. I have my beautiful girls and that is it.
I have no money.
I will lose my health insurance.
I am living with my parents.
I have no job and I am forced to get one, which brings me to the biggest hurt of all.
He has robbed me of what I have really wanted to do. Be a stay at home mother to my three girls.

Dick will keep his job.
Dick will keep his insurance.
Dick keeps his stability.
Dick get to keep sticking his dick where ever he pleases and bring his women home to meet my girls.
Dick will not be punished for his infidelity, lies and accusations against me.

But me? I am a rotten person because I don't want him to be happy.

None of this covers the events of the week. There calls from collections because he hadn't been paying bills. He wants to spend more time with the baby, whom he wants a paternity test for because she has dark hair.  There were outbursts and his attempt to misdirect toward me. Dick made my sister in law cry and I was invited to events and then uninvited.

It was a mess and I am not really prepared to boar you all with the details. Maybe next week.

This Girl needed the rain

I love the rain, it speaks to my soul.

It is why I live in the pacific northwest. When others are droning on that it has rained too long and are wishing for the sunny days of summer, I am still relishing the drizzling grey days. The days that darken early and awaken late. The days when the sun is merely a shadow of illumination, those are my days. The fall is my season. November is my month. Days spent with a hot cup of coffee, evenings spent with a book, a dog and a drink.

I can feel with a calm clarity and I can tell you waking up this morning and smelling the rain and hearing it pitter patter on the leaves of the rhododendron outside my window I felt like I was finally able to breath.

Quick recap for those of you just tuning in.
After twelve years of marriage and two months after the birth of our third 'Dick' met another woman and decided he'd rather dick around with her. So my three beautiful girls and I moved in with my parents and I filed for divorce.

In a new twist of events Dick has decided since our third baby has dark brown hair, in contrast to the other two who have blond curly hair, that I must have cheated on him and he wants a paternity test. I acutally laughed. Loudly.

Which is a far better response than brooding for two weeks over the comment that our girls need a strong female role model and his new girlfriend fits that description. I spent two therapy sessions on that.

After that he was genuinely shocked that I would have a problem if his girlfriend attended some deeply personal family events next week.

It is the spreading of my beloved mother in laws ashes. My sister in law is flying up with her family from California and it is going to be very emotional for us all.
In fact, Dick has no balls as he had not yet told his sister that we were divorcing and she sent me a very cheerful 'cant wait to see you' text with all kinds of excited emojis and hearts. So I had to tell her, via text. Something that infuriated me. He said he was going to tell her, but again, no balls. He, of course, has said he would do lots of things, like pay off the credit card that has tens of thousands dollars on it.

It was the rain, this morning that helped me keep my sanity. It reminded me that fall is coming.
 My season.
It reminded me that I will be okay, I will move on. I will rebuild my life.


Anyway, I'll keep this post short since next week will, I am sure, be long winded and very emotional. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

This Girl and her Lemons

Took me forever to get this post out.
Two reasons: One being my Macbook is an 'antique.' That is what the guy at Apple told me. It's slow and there are no up dates for this any more. It is seven years old. I bought it on my last vacation, before I got pregnant with my first. I have not taken a break for myself in seven years. You may wonder if Dick has taken any vacations, and the answer wont surprise you. Yes, he has. Several. Any way my antique computer froze up completely and had to be nursed back to health again. Sad computer.

Why not buy a new computer you ask? I couldn't even afford the dell computer on sale. I have very little money to my name and I have to save it for moving in to my own place and furnish it with basics, like beds for my children. *Suck in deep cleansing breath*

Moving on to reason number two. While conversing over text with my cant be soon enough ex and voicing my displeasure that he is already introducing his new girlfriend to my kids he made the comment "I want my girls to have a strong female role model in their lives."
*release angry seething breath*

Boy, that is a stinky layered onion isn't it?

I cant even begin to put all the thoughts and emotions to words.

I thought I was good. I thought I was moving on. I thought I was making progress.

The logical side of my brain is screaming at me that he is just being mean and trying to get under my skin. But the emotional side of my brain let it get to me.
Dick has placed a monetary value on everything in his life and that included me. Being that I never made much money and certainly not a dime for the last two years he had very little to no respect for me at all. Despite everything I have ever done for him to make myself worthy, it was never enough.

I needed to cool off from his comment and I turned to something that I have loved my whole life. Something I do when I am stressed to the max.

I bake.

I stood in my mother's kitchen and stared at her mixer for a very long time trying to summon the energy to pull out ingredients and preheat the oven. But I had no motovation. I had no desire to bake. I had no desire to do anything.

I got angry with myself, for letting him effect me. I got angry at him for thinking that this newer model of me was a better role model. And yet despite all that anger and bitterness I still didn't want to bake.

I really don't know how long I stood there. Finally, when I found myself I tried to write.

Anything. I was willing to write anything. I have three stories going. I have a journal of the events for my daughters to read when they are ready. And I have this, my boring blog. And yet still nothing poured from my fingers. I couldn't even get my brain on track. I sat in my chair of doom for a few hours and produced nothing.

It took every bit of what I had left to turn to my sewing machine and finish the pocket squares. It was fairly mindless and I did it. I completed them. My first batch was nearly ready to sell. So, a small accomplishment. Something to be proud of. But I still felt the weight of his words.

I felt them all the next day. I felt them in my therapy session and I still feel them now.

And I realized that it is going to take me longer and it is going to be harder to get from underneath him. After twelve years he had no problem moving on and yet the idea of even being attracted to another man is stomach turning.

I need to shine. I need to move on. I need to show my girls that happiness and joy can be found even in the darkest situations.

Life has handed me a whole bale full of lemons, and when life hands you lemons, don't sugar coat them. Freeze them and throw them back.

So for now, all of my lemons are in the freezer...just waiting to be released.

This Girl and her Pocket Square

I have really struggled to write this post. I have written it three times and erased it three times. There is so much emotion going through me, I am having a difficult time expressing myself. 

I am getting a divorce. 

It is absolutely devastating.

It is devastating to awaken from a dormancy in my life to realize how much I was being controlled and manipulated. 

It is devastating to realized how I was used. 

He took advantage of my painful and difficult second pregnancy to buy a Camero. A freaking Camero. I hate that car. The fiery passions of the deepest parts of hell cant hold a candle to my hatred of that car for a myriad of reasons. 

But none of that compares to me discovering that, lets call him Dick, has been having an affair. And that anger and humiliation is nothing compared to the angry grizzly bear mama in me when I discovered that not only has the other woman, lets call her Joan, has met my children several times, but Dick instructed my oldest to keep it quiet. 

For some strange egotistical reason Dick was sure a five year old was going to keep his dirty little secret  and that it was appropriate for him to do so. 

When I confronted him he said I was lying, that I was manipulating him and could no longer control him. Just keep the camero in mind. 

I have been advised to stay the high road, no matter how unfair to me, stay the high road and it will work to my favor in the end. 

So I informed him that I was uncomfortable with Joan being around the kids, bear in mind that we have only been separated for three months and he is already comfortable with bringing her around. 

With that, I told him how inappropriate it was for him to ask the oldest to keep it quiet. 

I guess that was controlling too, he told me so.

What does this all have to do with a pocket square? 

Before Joan, I had bought some fabric.

I had been trying to be amicable. I had been trying to be flexible. I had been trying to be reasonable. 

As a gesture of peace and friendship I was going to make the girls matching dresses and a pocket square for him. Things like that are important to him. Dressing nice and fashion. 

Isn't it gorgeous? It is beautiful. The girls are going to look great, but when I looked at the fabric I had cut for him I wanted to throw up. 

How could I have been so stupid? 

I dismissed his change in behavior as a result of his mothers cancer and sadly her death two weeks before our third was born.

He was being so nice to me, he was helping around the house, mowing and taking care of chores. All the things I had been doing.

I had encouraged him to go out with his friends and decompress.  

He would come home at four in the morning, two hours after the bars closed, but I didn't push or question. If I asked he said he was hanging out with friends and I let it be.

I had trusted him.

He always had a low opinion of me. I never met his expectations. I was never good enough. 

Dick always went out of his way to find something I did wrong. 

He never thought I was going to amount to anything. 

I had never really had much ambition for anything, quite the opposite of him. 

But when I became a mom, I knew that was what I needed to devote myself to and I did. 

Dick wanted me to have a career, be a mom and do everything else. 

I stared at the innocent square for a very long time. What on earth was I going to do?

Dick wasn't giving me much money and I was going to have to go apply for food stamps, despite his making ninety nine thousand dollars last year. He claimed he had no extra money. 

We didn't even have a savings account. He didn't believe in saving money. 

He spent it. 

All of it. 

What was I going to do?

I am better than him.  I can do better than him. 

I decided that I was going to make more money than him, I am not going to rely on him, because I cant.  I am going to show my daughters that I can rise above. I can take care of them and give them security and safety and I was going to start by selling the pocket square. 

I cut up the rest of my fabric and sewed them. 

Isn't the maroon beautiful? I loved working with this fabric, I'll be sad when it's gone. 

I am going to sell all of them. 

I am going to build my own life.

I am going to build an empire. 

Starting with these.

I have dozens of each, in varying sizes. 

They are fun and vibrant, like my oldest. 

They have spirit and attitude like my middle. 

And they are fresh and radiant like my baby. 

Contact me kristinek121@gmail.com

or comment here. 

This is the beginning of my life. 

This Girl when to a Seattle Sounders game and holy crap!

Do you know someone that is a freak about their team and their sport? Are you that person? Do they wear their teams colors and shout robustly during the games? Do you? Are you that person?
Do you attend the games with vigorous regularity? Do you bedeck yourself with your teams colors? Do you have capes, scarves, flowers, face paint, hair dye, and jerseys? Have you ever marched in a pre game parade?
Maybe you do all those things.

That is all well and good. Go your team. But have you ever been to a sounders game?
Do you know what happens at a Seattle Sounders game? Are you aware of the following and the passion their fans possess?

Look at them, they literally pay homage to their team. 

I have been to professional sports games. I have watched the Mariners lose, in person. I have gone to Super Bowl parties hosted by crazed fans. I have been surrounded by raving Canucks fans. And not a single one of them holds a candle to the casual Sounders fan. Not. One.

I attended my first Sounders game this last Friday against DC United and let me tell you, there is nothing like it.
It doesn't begin on game day. It all begins immediately after the last game is over.

In the weeks leading I thought I was doing my due diligence and watched a few games and was becoming a 'fan.' My sister spent our time together giving me the low down on every player, their stats and their physical conditions.
She has her favorite players. And one in particular. Remick. And when Remick's name is called and he trots onto the field she jumps up and down and starts screaming and then she leans over to me and says "I have his shorts!"
The way she says it, I get the mental image of her sneaking into his bedroom and steeling them in the dead of night. Really she bought a pair of shorts with his number on them. But her sneaking into his bedroom is a much better story.

Personally, I was already becoming partial to Stephen Frei. Maybe its still the sweeper in me (a defender in soccer terms) that makes me favor and protective of the goal keeper, I dunno. Maybe it's because he's cute, I dunno, but regardless his dedication was winning me over.
And I knew Martians was injured and I was becoming partial to him as well after I watched him play his heart out with a broken nose. No matter what, I was becoming a Seattle Sounders fan very quickly. I liked the way they passed. I liked the way the team still held together without their star players. They were a Team inside and out. That is something I feel is lacking from a lot of other sports. Its about the hero on the team or the best player, not the team itself.
All of this did not prepare me for my first Sounder game.

We started out with a Pre game parade. Parade? Why yes, a parade. The fans, casual and not so casual (aka the super fans) sing and chant. They march, wave their flags and scarves and insult the other team. These are the most organized fans I have ever seen. This is a good time to get a song card. A song card? Yes, but I will come back to that.

Then we found our seats.

Look how close we were! They were great seats. See the people sitting. That is the last time they did that. 

Soon Dr. Stephan Newby came out to the field and the most amazing and brilliant thing happened. He's on the big screen and he begins to sing the National Anthem and he has the most incredible and rich voice but only after a few bars he invites the entire stadium to sing with him. All forty thousand of us.

And as one patriotic voice we sang together with such passion chills ran through our souls. It was an awe-inspiring moment. It wasn't a dull or flat affair, there was no somber note to the tone that I heard so many times when I sang the Anthem in school or at sporting events. Here at the Sounders game we sang with such spirit and loyalty there was no denying who we were. 

It occurred to me as we all bellowed the final notes that this is how it should be at every event and it should be sung as though we were announcing to the world who we were for the very first time. 

The game begins and they stand. All of them. For the WHOLE game. I am not kidding. Every fan stands. So wear comfortable shoes. If you don't have comfortable shoes, buy them. You'll thank me later.

 Pro tip: If you are going to go to a game and you have never been before. Dive into your closet and find something green and blue to wear. It wont matter if the colors don't match, it wont matter if it happens to be the craziest outfit you own, in fact the zanier the better, wear it. 

We were close to the lively end of the fans.

See them over there on the left? Waving their flags? Some where in the middle of all of that is a guy with a very large set of drums and in front of him is a guy with a bull horn. They call out the songs and we all sing. Get your self a song card, even if you don't sing, the lyrics are clever and very entertaining, but I encourage you to go ahead and sing. Sing loud and proud, it's all part of the experience. 

The game was an intense one. There were so many close calls. So many great plays. So many gasps of anticipation and ah's as the play didn't quite make it. There were a few tense moments where we were biting out fingers in fear, but the game was scoreless. 

I had been told by some people that we were going to lose because they were playing without most of their key players due to injuries or being called up to play in other leagues. (I haven't quite figured all that out yet, Ill keep you posted.) 

Finally, near the very end, they scored. It was awesome. We screamed and screamed and screamed. We clapped, we sang. I had no idea how much celebrating I had done until the next morning my voice was horse.

And there were flames!

FLAMES! They were so hot I felt the heatwave from my seat. 

Now sadly early in the game Stephan Frei the goalkeeper suffered a potentially devastating injury. He leapt into the air and was hit by another player sending him to the ground at an awkward angle and he landed on his shoulder and neck. It took some time, but he got back up. Admirably later in the game he took himself out and he disappeared into the locker rooms as the crowd chanted his name. He returned later with his arm in a sling. And we all mourned, silently praying he'd be eligible for the next game and praising the soccer gods that the injury wasn't more severe. 

See him down there in the center with the sling. It was very sad. This pic was taken at the end of the game while the players were shaking hands with fans. 

I had a fantastic time. I will be going again. I plan on watching the games at home when I cant make a personal appearance. 

It is truly a well rounded experience, one that should be had by all. Only, probably shouldn't bring the kids. There was a lot of profanity, and noise, but really profanity. 

Tune in for my next post about the following day...and what I intend to do about it. 

Is Doom Lurking in your Living room?

Is there danger in your living room? Do you even know its there? Maybe it has you right now...and you don't even know it...I blame this hidden danger and all it's evil. They may look innocent, but they are vindictive and controlling and masters of karma. 

Maybe it's a chair. 

Maybe it rocks into your trust.

Maybe it's the corner of the couch. Cushy pillows, soft comforting blanket, and squishy ottoman for those tired feet. 

 Maybe it's a stressless chair with a cuddly lap dog, in front of the roaring air conditioner.

They look nice. They look welcoming. They look and even feel like they love you. They lull you into a trusting ease, making you forget all the things you have to do.

Are you aware of this danger? Do you know what it can do? Are you under it's dangerous spell, even now?

What do these sacred spots have in common?  They suck productivity. Steel time. They convince you that you are too comfortable, too relaxed to get up. They whisper sweet lies to you. 

"You worked hard today, put your feet up. Just relax..." 

"Just a few minutes, that's all you need. That's it, reach for the remote."

They trap you in their vortex and you will never know. 

I have one too. 

My chair of DOOOOOMM! And I blame it for everything. 

Does it look nice? 

It is. 

It has squashy arms. Nice lumbar in the back. It rocks 

back and forth, 

back and forth, 

back and forth, 

with a soothing rhythm. It leans back so completely it could be my bed and I could sleep sweet dreams. 

If I let myself indulge in 'just a few minutes' I find myself coming out of a television induced coma several hours later swearing at myself for the lack of productivity, for the lateness of the hour and the dread of still needing to move the oldest out of my bed and into her own. 

Ive gotta work. All day long I am a single mom, then at night as the sun sets gloriously on a distant horizon I continue to work. I must work. I must work through the physical pains, headaches and stress. I have to make a living for my girls. I have to support them. 

But I am tired. I don't sleep and I walk passed that chair and it beckons me with a little rock and a nod. 

Like the hot guy at the bar drinking a scotch, neat and he's eyeballing you and that dress you weren't sure you could pull off. 

I've been strong though. I've avoided the chair of doom. Two nights ago after a long and difficult day the chair was making every effort to entice me. It yearned for me. But I refused. 

I defiantly pulled out my wire and beads and began to work on earrings, perfecting my craft, for my first Seattle Sounders game. (My sister is super hard core and was very clear about the bedecking that was needed.)

I am very excited. Before I married my soccer hating husband I played and watched it constantly. 

Twelve years later I am totally out of the loop. 

So away I worked. Carefully beading, twisting, cutting and crimping and then the chair of doom got mad. It was feeling neglected. It had not been loved by me in days. 

I had been avoiding eye contact and the chair noticed.

That's when the chair used its power.

Suddenly my bowl of teeny tiny beads tipped. In slow agonizing motion I watched as hundreds of little sounder blue beads spilled all over the hardwood floor. 

They scattered everywhere, like sand from the beach or glitter from your five year olds preschool art project. 

(I would insert a picture of the devastation, but I was too angry.)

I nearly cried. 

These beads were expensive and I am penny pinching as it is and no bead was to be lost.

So there I was, only one pair of earrings completed and near midnight, on my hands and knees collecting every last bead from every nook, cranny and divot. 

Every. Single. Last. Bead. 

Then when I was done and I stood up to stretch my back and rub my knees, there it was. Staring at me. 

I had neglected the chair. I had angered the 'take a break' gods, and I was punished. 

It was mad at me, and I was mad at it. We gave each other the silent treatment. 

All day long it sat in the corner, alone. I glared at it bitterly and it sulked. 

Yesterday with the girls was better. The baby let me sleep in a bit and when they were all in bed I was able to make a few pairs of earrings and even unburden my soul with some writing.

So, In an effort to appease what ever god I have angered, I write this post to you, from the comfy chair of doom, with the soft cuddly lap dog in my lap and the air condition blowing on my toes. 

I did complete my Sounder Earrings.

My glorious sister will be sporting these.

If you see her wearing them, bemoan to her about the sweat and pain that went into their creation, it'll give me a kick.

She'll probably be confused. 

I have a less impressive pair for myself. 

Go Sounders!

Instagram...and beyond

I joined twitter. What a strange place. I haven't been able figure it out.

Bare in mind, I grew up in the birth of the wide spread internet. I remember that god awful squealing sound as I impatiently waited for it to connect before my parents demanded the use of the phone line.  I had a blackberry before it was cool. I have an Ipad 2. I am not opposed to social media, I stay reasonably updated with my technology.

But twitter...its like the 'and beyond' section of Bed, bath and beyond. I have enjoyed the news aspects and keeping up some of my favorite sites like The Chive and Buzzfeed. (check out The Chive...its a pretty awesome place)
But everything else. The conversation with celebrities, like the recent EL James disaster have been entertaining but I still see it as pointless.  I am just not sure I can keep my twenty one followers, most of whom I assume are spam accounts, updated with my every move. 'baby pooped three times, the third time smelled like orange juice' thats a pretty exciting day for me. Who wants to read that?

But Instagram...I was sure I would be lost here too. I was sure I would be just as annoyed with the whole thing. I was sure it would confuse me why countless images of peoples of dinners were fascinating.

And for a few days I was, then after I figured out the hashtag thing. (I thought I was over doing it with four hashtags..,Oh, how I was very very wrong.)  I started to explore instagram and I was entranced by what I had forgotten.

With the birth of each child I was sucked into their world and my whole world was them. And I was okay with that. It wasn't an easy life and their father and I were having a difficult time (I am sure at some point I go into all of that in more detail) but I was confident that we would work it out and this was a particularly rough patch that was affected by events going on around us we had no control over, mainly being the death of my beloved mother in law.

Something that is still difficult for me to discuss, so not now.

I was barely aware of anything else. And then instagram and this thing started to happen. I became aware of the world around me. It wasn't just tasty food and steaming cups of coffee, although there were plenty of those, and artfully done. I could appreciate that.

There was also, trees, flowers, mountains, trails and people. People out experiencing life and their own world around them. I suddenly realized. I am not attached. I am not attached to a man who used me as a surrogate mother. (She was truly a wonderful and amazing woman, who had the capacity to love unmatched by anyone except for my oldest to whom she passed on that capacity, but she also did everything for him...) And while I still have my beautiful babes most of the time, but for two days, two whole days and nights, I don't. I am unattached. I have the freedom to go and experience and step out into the world and see the sights it has to behold, smell the fresh rain in an ancient forest. I can eat in a restaurant that doesn't have macaroni and cheese on the menu. I can enjoy a quiet, but more importantly, hot cup of coffee.

I can go out, I can go do, I can. It's a nice feeling, it is a freeing feeling. It is a high that I hope I never come down from.

Now I just have to figure out how to pay for it...

This Girl's lazy dinner

I was supposed to make leftover tonight. But I didn't. My girlfriend had the brilliant idea of going on a walk today. Which is something we normally do, but its sooo hot. I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay home, play with the baby, take a nap, make some jewelry or really just do nothing at all.
Alas, my friend is a determined little bugger, so we went.
It was pretty, and shaded. But still sooooo hot.

 The blackberry bushes were in full bloom. The harvest will be bountiful this year, and I could care less. Its too hot.

When I got home, sweaty, stinky and gross, I went to pay homage to the air conditioner and suddenly I was hit with a wave of hunger. I needed to eat and I needed to eat now.

You don't know ravenous hunger until you've breastfed a baby. There is a difference between pregnancy hunger and breastfeeding hunger. If at any point during this angry zombie like state you get between me and food...you don't even want to know.

It was too hot to turn on the burner and heat leftover spaghetti, plus that required a certain amount of effort I was not willing to devote to my dinner.
So I went to an old stand by.

 Good old Jif Peanut butter, Zoi vanilla Greek yogurt (the one with all the fatty goodness in it) and a banana. Sadly this banana was a little too ripe.
"A little too ripe" you say, astonished. "Why its hardly just turned yellow!"
Why yes, you are correct. It has hardly just turned yellow, and that's too ripe. Green! I love Green Bananas! They are firm, they are strong, they are hard...get your mind out of the gutter.
Anyway, begrudgingly I survived without a green banana.

Now what I do with it bewilders my father. He thinks its pretty uncouth and will cringe at me every time I sit down with my little bowl of goodness. And it's not just the green banana thing that I have but how I put it all together.

 Place desired amount of yogurt into the bowl.

Scrape the bottom of the peanut butter jar and collect desired amount of peanut butter.

When there are two kids eating solid foods and three adults, there is always scraping the bottom of the peanut butter jar. 

Add peanut butter to your bowl...and mix.

It looks like this. Yummy!

Buy wait, there's more!

Add the banana! 

I meant to take a pretty picture of the banana all sliced on top, but I was hungry and I began to eat. Nom, nom, nom. 

Oh yeah...that's the stuff...

I am sure there is someone who could go off on the healthfulness of this dinner, one way or another. 

I like it cause its tasty, it fills me up and no heat required. 

Its a lazy dinner for a hot and lazy day. I feel better now, full and happy and very very sleepy. *yawn*stretch*

 But the baby is asleep and there is work to be done...

This Girls New World

So here it is: I am a suddenly single mother of three. Twelve years of marriage, done. I have three beautiful, vivacious, loud, busy, girls who can suck the souls out of the most experienced parent. They are great, really, I love them, but some days...
I am starting a new life, entering a new world. And despite the swirling vortex of catch 22's I have chosen to rise above the anger, complications and the weight of being a single mother. I have chosen to move on and be me. Me. All of me. Something I haven't been in a very long time.
I am not going to let standing on the edge of a new and terrifying horizon scare me back into the cave.
I am going to make my own way. I have stepped out into the world and I will carve my own path up the mountain. I will do it under my own steam.
So who am I?
I am a woman. I am an American. I have the vocabulary of a well educated sailor. I am self taught, pretty much everything. Youtube and I are in a deep and involved relationship. We cuddle together, late into the night, sharing secrets. Don't even try to get between us.
I can sew, crochet, read, write and bake.
I am going to take that most American part of me and make my own money. I will work hard, I will survive. I will make a new life and achieve my dreams, fulfill my bucket list and I will share it all right here. The ups and downs. The successes and the failures. I will rant and rave. I will create and sell.

But most important, I will move on. Me, my girls and my dog. See, isn't he cute! How could you not love this guy?