spell check

I just received this message from my spell check:

“End-of-Sentence Preposition (consider revising)”

First time I’ve ever seen it.

I am thrilled.

I so appreciate that spell check cares about this rule.

So many people don’t even know that you never ever end a sentence with a preposition.

In my day, ending a sentence with “of” or “under” (and don’t even get me started on “Where are you at?”) would have unleashed the terrors of a tiny little woman with a hawkish nose whose raison d’être was to insure that we gals grew up to be well read, well-bred, young women.

And part of the was to have impeccable grammar.

And to have read Pride and Prejudice.

Anyway, thank you spell check.

The best part is that this is the first time I’ve ever seen it so that wiry little old lady did her job.

 

 

Hindsight is 20/20

I am realizing that my life is actually a disaster.

I have let so many things slip through the cracks over the years: small things, important things, things for my kids, health care for all of us, money stuff, bills, and so on and so forth.

It’s all coming down on me at once; the weight is pretty big right now.

As I sit at my desk wondering what the fuck I’m going to do, I’ve also asked a million times, “How did I get my self in this situation?”

Some stuff I can blame on this last year, plenty I can blame on my ex-husband, but the majority of it falls into the category of either “I didn’t have my shit together,” or “I was distracted.”

I’m trying to not beat myself up about it and just deal, but it’s a challenge.

I can look back over the years and see the slow decline, choices made here, balls dropped there.

Priorities skewed.

One thing that is slowly coming to light is the harm done by getting involved with a man so much younger than I. I stepped out of the adult with three children role and acted like a thirty year old with very few responsibilities.

I got myself a job that was fun, but doesn’t pay the bills. I hung out with folks who didn’t have almost adult children that needed different parenting than the little ones that they all have. Plenty of our friends don’t have children at all.

And mine were just old enough to be relatively independent so it was easy for me to let go and think they were okay.

I allowed myself to be in the same mindset as MXB was – changing jobs, raising livestock instead of children, worrying about what to make for a potluck instead of what to make for family dinner.

When we first moved in together, I believed that I had a partner – not a boyfriend – because that’s what he said he wanted to be. And I began to let go of the tight grip I was trying to keep on my world.

I stopped fighting against my ex husband because I was happy and just wanted peace in our world.; I was afraid that the infighting would scare off MXB.

We split bills so I let go of thinking so much about them wondering if I would be able to pay them all.

I believed that I was sharing in  the responsibility of raising my boys.

Bt he wasn’t a partner – my kids certainly never saw him as a father figure – he was just mom’s boyfriend that we lived with.

He wasn’t helping to raise them. He certainly wasn’t helping with taking the to the dentist. He stopped helping with the bills. Stopped participating in feeding them.

And I let it all happen.

I was so distracted by my relationship and my life with this man that I let go of so much responsibility – didn’t want to deal with the reality of being an adult.

That’s exactly where I went – I didn’t act like nearly enough of an adult because I was still in my 30’s, right?

And now I am trying to grow up in all areas of my life all at once, before I end up on the streets with no teeth (because the dentist is a big thing that dropped off the radar – for all of us) begging my children to feed me a smoothie.

I’ve been saying that this year was my forced midlife crisis and I believe that is true. But there are apparently different levels involved with a full blown midlife crisis. I’ve peeled through the outer layers of heartbreak, loneliness, and redefining who I am (well, still working on that but I’m getting there.)

Now I’m down to the nitty gritty of becoming a real adult – because I haven’t been.

I’ve been in limbo.

And it is all biting me in the ass right now – on every level: financial, logistical, practical, emotional.

I’m trying to turn around years of being carefree (or so I thought until the relationship took a nose dive – then I spent my time being weighed down by all of it.)

My life looked good from the outside but underneath, it was falling to pieces, bit by bit.

And I am paying a really painful price for it now.

So I am trying to gather the pieces and pull it all together. I feel as if I am swimming upstream through Shit Creek, bumping into rocks, and swallowing a lot of water. I need to keep my head above water so I don’t drown, but I know that I am in a very precarious position.

And unfortunately, there is an emotional piece that I need to wade through with every little logistical bit.

Growing up is fucking rough.

 

September 14

Tomorrow is the anniversary of the Accident.

One year.

It’s been the longest, saddest, hardest, scariest year of my family’s life, and yet, it feels like it can’t possibly be an entire year since that night.

I haven’t really written many details about the accident or the fallout from it, out of respect for my son and the other families involved. I’m holding true to that but I will share what happened:

My guy and three of his friends chose a random place in the country to hang out and party. Then they all got into my son’s truck to drive home.

He hit a huge cottonwood.

There were broken femurs, a broken jaw, a broken face, a broken neck, and several other serious injuries. Children were airlifted to other hospitals. My son was transferred from police custody to the ICU.

He was charged with 3 felony counts of vehicular assault which each carry a sentence of up to 5 years in prison. Add an aggravated DUI to that with up to a year in county jail for that one – and no, nothing could be served consecutively.

Meanwhile, his friends and their families were moving through the not so gentle aftermath of that night, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

We went through the system, and yes, it is a very slow process.

Painfully so.

When we finally got around to his sentencing we had accepted a plea agreement from the District Attorney, which keeps him out of prison as long as he adheres to demands of his probation for the next 2 years. Also at the end of that two years, he will be able to say that he is not a convicted felon.

The State owns him, which is fine with me – he fucked up – but his life will not be shaped by a felony record.

Most importantly, his three friends are alive and well.

 

 

 

 

The weekend

I went to Utah

I got food poisoning

I’d rather be throwing up under the stars on top of Cedar Mesa then doing it anywhere else

Benefits: no stairs to navigate in a hurry with a broken foot, I have everything I need, including a hot water bottle, in the back of my truck, the dish bucket does double duty as a vomit bucket, it’s beautiful, there’s a cool breeze, and the dog happily cleans up any mess I might make so it doesn’t look like a war zone when I wake up