V-a-c-a-t-i-o-n

After one hard week of inventory at my store, running around like a madwoman, getting testy with coworkers that needed to be tested, I am officially on vacation.

I am so happy not to be at work. I am so thrilled to be in North Carolina again. I got off of work and we left right after to get on the road. It was a long drive with my husband, my son (the neverending mouth) and our two dogs. Sasha is way too big to put in a seat, so we had her all the way in the back. She was fine with this for the first eight hours (we took breaks every two hours, letting the dogs out to do their business, stretch their legs). Suddenly, Sasha decided she didn't want to sit by herself, so she managed to put her front half of her body in the back seats with her butt still in the back. Kade and I began to get upset with her for this, so she hopped all the way over and sat next to Kade, squishing him in the process.

I had to unbelt myself to try and get her to go all the way in the back, but moving a hundred pound dog when she doesn't want to be moved is next to impossible in a confined space. Especially, when she's looking at you like "What? What's the big deal, what'd I do?" Eventually, she took our hint and moved to the back. The whole rustle and bustle of this event upset Angel, who doesn't like attention stolen away from her, so she began a fifteen minute yap. This bothered Kade, who was watching a dvd, which bothered Chris who was trying to drive. And they are all looking at me like, "Do something!" So I did. I went to sleep for ten hours. Go me. I don't know why, but if I just ignore their tantrums, they seem to stop. When I woke up, they were all quiet again.

We're currently relaxing and resting until we start our next leg of this adventure, which will be some camping and beach time. Yes, if you are on vacation with me, you will learn that one must rest up before relaxing. I plan things this way. Actually, my Chris planned it this way, because he knows me. Because when I go on vacation, I really go on VACATION. If it involves walking more than five steps, I'm gonna need to rest first.

Obsequious

Who knew that many vowels could go together?

There are certain milestones in a child's life. Walking, talking, going to school for the first time, having a crush on a girl, but none of them rival the competitive edge that is the spelling bee. My son made it to the finals. They gave us a list to study from. I was under the impression that it was a sample list; the real words would be LIKE those, but not EXACTLY those. I was wrong.

The day of the spelling bee, my son went up there on stage with forty other finalists. They started with easy words. Then suddenly round three kicked in and they started throwing the hard ones. My Chris and I were disappointed for the other parents when their children left the stage. The mother ahead of us brought that sample list and let us know they were going down the list exactly as it had been given to us. Then she showed me my son's next word. Holy hell! That's not a word! That's just some vowels and a consonant or two! I told them he'd be knocked out. I mean come on, there's no way I could even spell that one. Meh.

And of course, he could barely even say it, let alone spell it. He just kept shaking his head, then finally threw up his hands and blurted out any letters he could think of. Oh my little sport! He's such a doll.

************************

Kade is getting baptized (his choice, not mine.) I'm very proud of that. He is making his own choices and doing what he wants to do, so that's a good thing. We went shopping for his baptism clothes. In the midst of that, I saw this hat and knew he had to get it. It's SOOOOOO him.

Notice how he models it.

Sometimes, he reminds me of a little man. Sigh, how fast they grow...

A Birthday And Stuff

Another birthday rolled around. I realized that when you sign up for things and you have to actually scroll to get to your birth year, you're getting old. I work with people that were born in the nineties. I'm four years older than one of my bosses. I got a pimple yesterday, so apparently, my body is just as confused about my age as I am.

You know what else makes me feel old? Twitter. I signed up for it, because everyone signs up for it nowadays. Everyone is flocking there, and somehow I got pushed to the Twitter page. It feels like being in a pack of rabid grandmothers waiting outside for the doors to open to get the sales the day after Thanksgiving. Only difference is that I have no idea what it's for. I have a twitter page. I think I might even have some tweets... or twits... or whatever they're called. I don't get it. Why? If it's important enough for me to say it, then why not write out a well-thought blog entry? What is the purpose of this thing? I think I have lived in Quincy too long and now the retirement people are making me one of them. I see them at the laptop displays wondering how such a thing could work. OH, I GET LAPTOPS! I understand those things! I just don't get twitter. Or facebook. Why? I just don't get it.

I finally figured out how to get my son in on a game of Resident Evil, so we can both play at the same time. I spend the first half of the game making him walk, not run, (don't run, you might fall and break your ear off!) behind me so that I could protect him from zombies. (I think at one point, I actually told him to go hide. As if the game really featured that.) Finally, he got bored, so he ignored me and ran ahead. My Chris told me to stop mothering him, it's just a game. But you should see those two play the combat fighter pilot game. My Chris goes a little bit nuts. He's not used to playing video games, I'm slowly getting him in on it. (Mostly now that we have remote controls, he likes playing in his recliner. Hehehe.) Still, Kade is pretty good at that game. Maybe even better than me... well no, not better than me, but he's pretty good. Certainly better than the computer that was controlling the second character. When my son can play better than me, then I'll know I'm really old.

This happened yesterday:

Me - "blah blah blah something about my Chris blah blah..."
Customer - "Certainly you are not old enough to have a husband!?"
Me - "Uh... how old do you think I am?"
Customer - "22."
Me - "You're my new favorite customer."

I may be getting older, but I think I have decided to age very slowly. I shall keep my youthful vigor and good looks... right after take this here nap.

Resident Evil 5

I've been waiting for this one for three years. Three years it took them to make this sequel. Now let me just talk about disappointment for a second. I always get my hopes up about how good something will be. I hated Dark Knight. It sucked. I hate the Resident Evil movies. They suck. I hate Milla Jovovich or whatever her name is. She sucks and her character was never even in the game. Suck suck. Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness sucked so bad, I only played the first few levels before hurling it at the wall, never to be played again. I hated the Final Fantasy computer animated movie. It sucked. In fact, there hasn't really ever been a game to movie crossover that I HAVE liked. They all suck. So, I am no stranger to disappointment.

But when my Kade got his Game Informer magazine, when my Kade came screeching into the living room about how they were in the throws of making RE5, I went beserk-like crazy in anticipation. I didn't even own a PS3 and I was excited for this game. I checked the dates. March 13th. I preordered my copy. Did I mention, I didn't even have the console, yet? I made my Chris go to another state to get me a PS3 that WAS backwards compatible, because they are hard to find, being that Sony doesn't make them anymore. I made him buy me one that had sixty gigs of harddrive. I made him buy me a second controller, because I learned the game was Co-op, so now my Kade could play alongside me. So... six hundred dollars later, I am now ready for this game. Now before I go on... I don't ask for much. I know I am sounding like a spoiled brat, but I really am not one of these wives that asks for a lot. I am fine with the things I have. I don't need jewelry. I don't shop for clothes all the time. I don't need the latest fashions. So, when I do want something, typically my Chris is happy to oblige. I don't need pretty baubles, I just need a Playstation and any Resident Evil game, so I can curl my finger around the R1 button, the way you would curl your finger around the trigger of a gun and I am allllllllllll good.

I had asked the guy at Gamestop who the characters were, because I didn't recognize them. Yeah, they really revamped the characters. A little too much if you ask me. Chris (the lead, not my Chris) has some huge guns... err arms, biceps. I mean, huge. A little too huge. Come on, really? For a computer animated character, he is nice to look at. It's just you shouldn't really want to look at him when an angry lynch mob is heading your way. Just sayin'. The other character is new, Sheva. Not Sheiva, but Sheh vah. Weird. But okay. The animation in this game is so good. For once, they really concentrated on the characters. Sheva has this thing she does with her nose. When something doesn't suit her, she wrinkles it a bit. It's a cute characteristic for a game character. I like the little things. I like HER character. I don't like HER in the game. Okay, the game is co-op, which means you play with a partner. If you don't have a partner, the computer takes over the other character, you play in tandem. Problem is that if either one of you dies, you both die. Problem is that Sheva has a habit of walking straight into a mob of infected zombie-like people, blocking my view so that I cannot shoot. If I do shoot, I hit her dumbass. This is extremely frustrating when I am lining up a snipershot. There is nothing worse than getting that little red dot right over a zombie's head, than to have Sheva walk into my line of sight, only to have her staring at me through my scope. You dumbass! Move! And I really do shout these things at the television. As if it really knows my pain.

Another annoying aspect is that if I do happen to let her have a gun, she will waste all the ammo. So now, I have gone to using her as a pack mule to carry all my ammo. She can have a stun rod. Only I have the guns. This little trick has gotten my far into the game. Far less wasted ammo, but the problem is that she LOVES to run ahead. When I am hiding, trying to load all my guns, she will decide to go look ahead, taking all my ammo with her. I have to call her back every few seconds, but she always brings a few unwanted guests with her. The AI that controls Sheva had to have been made by a real big asshole. She always wants to run out of situations. This is the advice she gives me. Um, hello, a huge mob of infected villagers just came out of the woodwork, I have plenty of rifle ammo and you want to run?! Hell no! Head shot practice anyone? I love shooting their heads before they ever get to me, then I run over and steal all their ammo... which I make Sheva hold for me. *snicker*

The game starts out hardcore. This mob comes outta no where to take you out. At this point you have very few bullets, a knife (whoopeedoo, what's a knife gonna do for ya, other than breaking open crates?) so you have to run. Now I am not a bitch that runs. So it took me a few times to figure out that, hey, the game really does want me to run away. Damn. I hate that. That pissed me off and for a moment, I really did consider throwing the game at the wall and letting it end the way of Angel of Darkness. But only for a moment. I gathered myself and trudged on. It gets so much better. Once I figured out that they messed up the controls (I had to manually go in and set all my controls back to the way they should be) it was game on! I got this now!

It does add in some really unintentionally funny parts. I accidently knocked over a huge torch and it severely scalded this beast I was trying to kill. It was put there for that purpose, but I didn't know that, so my Kade and I had a good laugh at how good I was at accidently winning. There's another part where you are in the darkness of a mine. Sheva holds a light, but it only illuminates a few feet in front of you, so you have to rely on sounds to alert you. I forgot Sheva was behind me, so when I heard footsteps behind me, I turned and starting shooting, only to be shooting my partner. Ooops. At another point, you are supposed to walk quietly by some sleeping mutants. This is the advice Sheva gave me. I seriously did consider it... but the opportunity of a fight was just too much so I ran by quickly to alert them of my presence while the AI Sheva complained that I woke them all. Hehehhe.

Am I disappointed? There are aspects of the game that disappoint me. Sheva, while a good character and quite cute, is useless to me other than to be a pack mule. I hate not being able to see. I hate it. I understand they do it for atmosphere and to make the game harder, but I want to see myself playing the game. Don't make it too dark. Do I love the game? YES! Was it worth a six hundred dollar three year wait? YES!

Now I have to teach my Kade to play, so that he can control Sheva (even though he whines at this. But I told him that I am already too used to playing Chris to be Sheva now.) I think he might be at the age where he can play this all right. Then again, I may have to wait a few years, because there are still certain scenes that make him get up and sit right next to me. If you get into the game, it can be scary. It does get your heart racing. It's definitely not as scary as the original RE games, it's a new kind of scared. Scared your partner did something ridiculous. Like waste fifty bullets on chickens. Or scared you have to kill this huge monster, only to realize you have almost no ammo left. Or scared your partner got too close to you with that stun rod. (I can't even tell you how many times she's hit me with that thing!) Anyway, it's a good buy. It's not as good as RE4, but it will keep me busy until the next one comes out.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

I don't even know where to begin. I'm so disgusted right now. Okay, I've always felt like if you've done well, you should always give back. So my Chris and I, we try to take care of our vets. There's a Soldiers and Sailors home right up the street from my house. We go to visit them every couple of months. Usually we visit as many as we can, but sometimes I'll go and visit the ones that know us a little better. I have one (we'll call him "the Good Vet") that is a penpal to us. He writes us every so often, even though we are only up the street. I think for him, it is the promise of something to look forward to. Getting something in the mail is nice for him. My son writes him back, he likes that. He's a very sweet man.

Most of them are all great men and women. They love getting visits. Most of the time, they just want someone to listen. The Good Vet will sometimes call me when he really needs a visit. Unless my schedule is too busy, I am happy to oblige. And to tell you the truth, we enjoy visiting him, too. He likes hearing how our lives are going; we make sure he's doing all right. The Good Vet has a few friends. Sometimes, he'll go around introducing us. One time he introduced us to a gentleman that was a little cranky. We didn't let that get in the way of conversation, and by the end of the day, he was laughing with us. The Cranky Vet ended up wheeling himself (he's in a wheelchair) down to our home to wait until we got home so that he could thank us for the visit. I thought that was sweet. I don't mind that, I really don't.

I don't mind phone calls, or mail. I don't even mind home visits if they are able to get around on their own. I don't mind being there for someone. What I DO mind is being taken advantage of. Now the vets I've mentioned so far are great gentlemen who would never harm a fly.

This next one, ugh. So there's this vet... We'll call him the Creepy Vet. He didn't start out creepy. He was a customer of mine that would come in. I was always happy to help him get what he needed from my store. Because of this, he would only allow me to help him whenever he came in. Or at least, that's what I thought. It always baffled the other managers that he would not speak to them. This should have been a warning flag, but you never know with people. I just thought that he knew I was the customer service rep, so I would get him exactly what he needed.

So one day he came in and mentioned that he lived in the Soldiers and Sailors home. I told him I knew of it, actually visited it sometimes. He asked if I would visit him there, I told him I would whenever I got the chance. As it so happened, the group I volunteer for, Soldiers' Angels, sent my Chris a bunch of donations for the home. Whenever I visit, whether it be for all the vets or for the few I know well, I always go as a Soldiers' Angel. I've even taken other Angels there, as well as Patriot Guard Riders. So, I could have had my Chris call up some Angels or Riders to come with me to make these donations, but I thought that I'd take a few and deliver them personally to the vets I knew. I thought it would be nicer that way. I won't do that anymore.

I visited the Good Vet and his friends, gave them their donations. They marveled at how fast Kade was growing. It's really amusing because they don't see Kade on a regular basis, so they can see the changes in him immediately. The last person on my list was the Creepy Vet, who at this point was not creepy at all. So I went to deliver his donation, only to find him in some really short shorts. Now he's in a wheelchair, so that an extremely odd look, but whatever. So Kade and I went into his room... Okay, it's sad that I can identify most of the things in his room by name and model number because they come from my store. That's really odd, but whatever. I gave him his donation, explaining that the Soldiers' Angels sent them for the vets to have. He nodded and set them aside, then asked for a hug. Um, okay. So I went to give him a hug and the man starts to kiss my neck.

I jumped back telling him that that was inappropriate first of all, and second of all, I am married! He told me he didn't know that, despite the fact that the entire time I have known this man, I've had a ring on my finger. At this point, Kade's eyes were as wide as saucers. Thank the Lord my son was there with me that day. Thank all the heavens, because he gave me every excuse to leave. I love my son. I do. I love the fact that I don't have to tell him I need help, he just instinctively knows. So Kade started saying he was really hungry, which gave me a polite excuse to leave. "Oh, gotta go fix dinner." Nope, that just launched Creepy Vet into a list of places where we could go eat. Uh, no. Again, I told him I am married and that he was inappropriate. He ignored this. So at this point, I was done using excuses. I told him we had to leave. He told me he would walk me out to my car. I told him that was unnecessary and yet, he followed us anyway.

The whole time he was asking if any of the other girls at work were single. Nope, there aren't any!! I practically jumped in my car and bolted out of there. "Mom, don't tell Dad, he'll be so mad," Kade told me.

My response was, "You better damn well believe I am telling your father!"

"Oh come on, he didn't know you were married."

"Kade, where is the logic in that?! Even if I wasn't married that gives him no right to be trying to kiss on me!!"

"Oh good point. That was gross."

I get home to my Chris, who knew immediately that something was wrong. I told him and he laughed. I do not find it funny. He gave me a hug and talked me down, but I was pretty upset. I called my mother and she too, began laughing. Okay, so I started to see the humor in the situation. This dirty old vet tried to kiss me. Har har.

The next day, I get this voicemail from Creepy Vet. I can't make out a word he's saying. So, I give the phone to my Chris, who listens to it, shakes his head, then begins listening again so he can translate to me. He tells me that the Creepy Vet is asking me if "we can get something started. I thought about you all night." Needless to say, my Chris was NOT smiling and laughing anymore. I will not be visting that building of the grounds any more. And the next time I take donations, I will not be going with only a ten year old as a companion. It's really fucking sad that I have to think that way.

You know, it's not like I can't take care of myself. I've brought down men bigger than my Chris before. I can fight. I was taught. No where in my training did they ever teach me about how to ward off old dirty men in wheelchairs. I can't beat him up! He's an old man in a wheelchair. What the hell! Needless to say, I know this story may be amusing to some and funny, but I am not amused. I am creeped out. No wonder the guy would never allow the MALE managers to help him. Well from now on, that's all he gets or he can go elsewhere. I've already alerted my boss. The sad thing is that I get this crap all the time. Now not to this degree, but I'm so tired of being gawked at. I'm so tired of comments. And up until this point, I've laughed it off, too. Don't get me wrong, I thought it was hilarious when a deaf old customer loudly told me that he liked the way the paper in my back pocket moved when I walked. I mean, I could not help but laugh at the time. But now I'm sick of it. I'm so damn sick of it. Mostly it's the older ones, because they think they can get away with it, but lately I don't know. It seems like the men in this community think they have a right or something. And all it makes me believe is that I need to get the hell out of dodge. I hate this city. I hate these people. Say what you want about that kind of stuff happening everywhere, but I've never had this kind of thing happen anywhere else.

Under Lock And Key

He died on the thirteenth, but I never remember much of that day. I remember the next day, though. I remember waking up to a nurse setting a tray before me with heart shaped napkins and little candies. I remember seeing a picture of a lily posted on the door to my room, which I equated with Valentine's Day, but it had nothing to do with that. I found out later they put it on there to notify the other hospital staff to tread lightly: this mother lost her baby. Now the thought of flowers and candies sometimes sickens me. And tomorrow is Valentine's Day.

Today is almost over, but it hasn't hit me at all. It's almost like a void today. Or maybe I am blocking it. I have gotten very good at doing that. It's strange, because I feel every other emotion whole-heartedly. I am not good at hiding how I feel. Except with Logan. With him, I don't show anything. I can't speak about him much. I know what I want to say, but I cannot physically get the words out of my mouth. It's almost like screaming but nothing comes out. Not a sound.

Kade used to ask me questions all the time, but it always resulted in me staring at him until he stopped asking. Eventually, he gave up. I can't answer his questions. They're my questions, too and they've gone unanswered. It feels strange to write about this. I certainly can't speak any of it. This is going to absolutely kill me, but I feel the need to get some of it out.

No one ever really talks about stillborn babies. People might sadly mention that they've had miscarriages (for that I truly sympathize), but it's not the same. I feel terrible for other parents who've lost children after they've been born. But it's not the same. I've had countless medical staff tell me how often it occurs, but no one talks about it up close and personal. It's the big fat elephant in the room.

Imagine expecting something for awhile, but never getting it. Imagine changing your life to prepare for something that will never happen. Imagine wanting something so deeply, but knowing you will never get it. Now imagine that something had a name. Imagine that something had a face. Imagine that he never got a chance to look at you, or smile ... or laugh, even though every feature was fully formed. Even though he had a face of an angel. Even though he was perfect in every way. Even though they could never find a reason. That's the best I can describe the situation. Stillbirth robs you of everything, after pregnancy promised the world.

It's been six years. On most days, I am fine. Of course, on most days, I am blocking any thought that would lead me to think of it. Some days, it will sneak in and I lose myself in it. I watch family members have new babies, coworkers are getting pregnant (one is on her sixth child), but not me. And it's all with a certain detachment. Even if I did get pregnant again, it won't be HIM. I don't want another baby. I want MY baby.

I asked for a hope chest for Christmas. I used the excuse that Kade was growing to old to have his baby things in his room, which is true. But the real reason is that I wanted a place for all Logan's things. I can't look at them anymore. I changed the nursery to my computer room a few years ago, which definitely helped. Although, taking down the crib was not the best day of my life. But his clothes still hang in the closet. His blankets still lie on the shelf. I have to put them away now, only because I can't bear to see them anymore. I can't name one person who has hung on as long as I have.

After the funeral, I remember getting angry, because time had stopped for me, but everyone else kept moving on. Why?! Didn't they know they were supposed to stop, too? I held him within me. I felt his movement and kicks. I sang to him. I rubbed my belly. Please stop for me, because it's hard to not feel any of that again. And I've barely moved on. So, it kills me to put all his things away. It kills me to move on. He was mine. And I don't want to. But the pain is still as sharp as Valentine's six years ago. And it's getting harder for me to block it. No one understands a mother who sobs six years later. "Isn't she over it by now?" Nope. I can't let go.

There will be a piece of me always reserved for him. The part of me that no one else will ever get. That no one else will ever see. I will never let him go.

The Mini Ones

I can throw a temper tantrum like no one's business. Oh yeah, I can bring the goods. The chin quivering, the stomp, the rage, the pout... I've got them all in my arsenal. Those are all on reserve, however. And my arsenal has its fair share of dust collecting on it. I don't use it much. Logic goes a lot farther than any temper tantrum would. But that is not to say that I don't have many multiple mini-tantrums throughout the day.

I had one this morning. My Chris woke me up with kisses. I like waking up that way. He then gave me a backrub. I like waking up this way, too. So I mumble politely about the third way of waking me up, which is a footrub, but he wouldn't do that one. I'm pretty sure there were some muffled retorts in my pillow, none of which he heard. Or at least, he pretended not to hear. So I fell back asleep on purpose just so he'd have to wake me again.

And so he came back with kisses. No backrub, no footrub. So I kicked the bed, but then realized he already left the room. My little display went unnoticed. After stomping down the stairs, getting ready for work, pausing at the door to wait for him to notice that I was leaving, so that I could ignore him, I realized he wasn't noticing I was leaving.

I gave up. He'll never know I had a mini-tantrum and I'll just have to wait for that footrub. One could call it a draw. He's getting better at this. I should revamp my arsenal.