Thankful

…that Christmas has come and gone. No sooner than we hang up our Halloween costumes the first holiday songs start playing….and out comes Scrooge Sloane. Hearing those atrocious carols in public listening space makes me want to guzzle egg nog [of the spiked variety], deposit coal in many a stocking, and steer my sleigh over the edge of the nearest cliff [not of the fiscal variety] while helping myself to a generous heaping of Prozac.

[[ Note to CWS: Spiked eggnog is best enjoyed responsibly and never before driving. Additionally, I take all prescribed medication in the appropriate doses, and I am not suicidal. Just to clarify. ]]

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I created this collage for my mom. Making it wasn’t the most delightful experience, nor do I particularly wish to see it again, but here’s a visual synopsis of our holiday. It is our second– and LAST– Christmas spent separately. Never again will we take family time for granted.

Now that I’ve purged my phone and this blog of all things festive I never have to mention it again. Until next year. Bah humbug.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane

Terrible Awful: 2011 edition

No word exists in the English language to quantify how abominable, appalling, atrocious, bad, calamitous, deplorable, deplorable, dreadful, horrible, intolerable, miserable, repulsive, tragic, unbearable, and wretched year 2011 was for me.  Combine every adjective you just read and multiply it by a million.  That’s my year!  We’ll steal Minnie Jackson’s terminology and refer to it as the ‘Terrible Awful.’ 

Temporary catharsis is all I seek.  Factors beyond my control dictate the terms for certain grievances….and I have no choice other than to carry them with me into the new year.  Obviously there is a massive Terrible Awful that makes all others pale in comparison– and some of these seem more innocuous than others– but this is my time to complain.

Minnie's done somethin' Terrible Awful!

So let’s knockout my woeful [and oftentimes incensed] lamentations as quickly as possible.  Without further ado, 11 things I despised about 2011:

1)  Sloane versus Child ‘Welfare’ Services.  I’m not even going to dignify them with three sentences so we’ll end here at two.

2)  Never in my life do I want to make another appearance in a courtroom in the county of San Luis Obispo.  Much to my chagrin I can think of at least two more dates where I’ll be scheduled to appear.  Whether it’s custody issues, my divorce, or testifying in another case the legal process drags on ad infinitum.  This is neither the time nor the place for me to discuss why I’m a VIP in the courts here, but I wanted to take this opportunity to assure you that I’m not a criminal– my little wrists have never felt the cold metal of handcuffs!– nor have I been charged with anything.  I’m a law abiding citizen who has done nothing wrong, though as you can imagine from the categories I mentioned above this is seemingly endless red tape.

3)  My marriage came to a screeching halt.  While I’m not divorced [see #4], it’s completely over, and that upsets me tremendously.  Will and I were estranged for over three years of our marriage so I’m used to him not being in the picture.  Yet I was [naive and foolish] so hopeful that our daughter could allow us to have a fresh start….for a very intelligent woman isn’t that a stupid thought?  And it’s not myself I worry about– I’m fiercely independent and prefer being unattached– but my children.  They deserve a loving and attentive father who provides for them, a father who treats their mother with courtesy and respect even though they are no longer involved.  I want to be able to co-parent and have a dear friend in my former spouse.  Given the circumstances that simply can’t happen.  We’ll never be a Bruce and Demi.  The union of Sloane and Will didn’t just succumb to ‘irreconcilable differences’ or fizzle and fade.  How do I explain this to the kids?  “Sorry Adam, Daddy can’t come with you to Father/Son day at school because it violates the terms of the restraining order.” 

4)  Residency requirements are not my friend in the state of California.  Until the marriage is dissolved on paper, any custody issues are infinitely more complex, as is anything that pertains to domestic violence.  I want to give birth to Tatum and come to our cozy apartment to recuperate and spend quality time with my children.  My biggest concern should be separation anxiety from my infant when I return to work, not dealing with a divorce.  Because as luck would have it– of course!– I don’t exist on paper in the state of California until one day before Tatum’s arrival.

14 month old Adam in the CAR wearing his cow suit. I sure do miss my CAR. Having a CAR is a very nice thing.

5)  Being homeless– can we say major no bueno?  Granted, I was never on the streets panhandling and sleeping on cardboard…but there was a period of two and a half weeks where Adam and I lived in a motel.  I cannot even begin to describe to you how agonizing and stressful it is to not know where you are going to sleep past the next few nights, especially when you have a child.  The ‘transient’ time between my unexpected departure from the women’s shelter and my joyous arrival in my apartment was brutal.  And the troubles hadn’t even started!

6)  Would you be surprised if I told you I was unbelievably homesick?  Between a period of not having a home– literally– and being 3000 miles away from the place I’ve known as home for the first quarter century of my life.  The overwhelming majority of the amazing people I call friends are east of the Mississippi River clustered around the Hernando DeSoto Bridge [a.k.a. the new bridge].  I even miss Memphis.  Around here all the financial establishments sound so….corporate.  How could I possibly trust anyone with my personal accounting that doesn’t work for Mo’ Money Taxes?

7)  This is quite difficult to discuss but once upon a time I had a car.  Not just any car, a gorgeous BMW X3 in a dazzling silver color.  It was glorious.  Beyond glorious.  When I drove alone the speedometer went to 345943945435943 in no time at all.  When driving with Adam I trusted my safe and reliable vehicle.  Sometime during the hour where Alyssa and I were getting acupuncture in our ears [trying valiantly to cleanse ourselves of bad juju and stress less, unbeknownst to me, my car met its untimely demise while it was a certain someone's DUI chariot.

[[ Sidenote:  When I took this picture I moved his car seat strap down so he would smile.  It's clearly not secure and that's not how he rode while we were actually moving in the vehicle.  You can never be too cautious with clarifying these things. ]]

8)  Sloane, meet poverty.  There is nobody to blame for this except yours truly but I had zero savings when I needed it the most.  Even cheap motels get costly.  Come apartment time, I had to furnish it [though I received tons of generous gifts for which I am so thankful], and then they wanted rent again after already getting the first month and a security deposit?!  Then came the introductory bills for various places.  And Christmas.  Blah, blah, blah.

Absolutely no relevance to this post, but it's a cool picture

9)  This was a lousy, sickly year for my health.  Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritiually, I was simply not healthy– which understandably took its toll.  I should have known what to expect when I went for a ‘wellness checkup’ the second week of January….and slipped on a patch of ice dislocating my knee, almost tearing my MCL, and getting a swollen and inflamed meniscus.  Well then.

10)  What the hell was I thinking when it came to dating?!  My first ex of the year I wish nothing but the best for….it simply ran its course.  We were both reluctant to jump ship and it should have ended a lot sooner.  I thank him for handling it like a gentleman and having the courtesy and respect to not talk poorly of me, just as I do for him.  Next one of my very best friends and I tried our luck at being a couple for two weeks:  epic fail.  Then there was….I’m scared if  even mention it in too much detail I’ll hear a knock at my patio door and he’ll be outside with an ax despite the fact that he’s thousands of miles away.  He’s said it himself he’ll “never stop harassing me.”   Suffice it to say he’s a deranged stalker who is profoundly disturbing and highly unstable.  And finally there was that attempted reconciliation with Will.  That certainly ended well!

11)  People.  Behaving.  Badly.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Stressed scrooge

This is the second Christmas I've been pregnant but the first away from home.

Expect to see at least three entries over the next two days about the joy of the holiday season….so it makes perfect sense to get in touch with my inner scrooge before the festivities commence.  So what if I’m a miser, a misanthrope, an all-around meanie who deserves a lump of coal in my stocking?  If I didn’t have children it’d be enough to make me want to adorn my spiked egg nog with a hearty helping of Prozac and hibernate.  ;)

But alas, I am a Mommy, so I’ll stick to my yearly cynical blog post….and cherish the rest of my holidays creating memorable traditions with my family and celebrating our blessings.

I’ll spare you all the ranting and raving pertaining to excessive crowds; Christmas music [like everyone else who has worked for a mass retailer at some point in their lives I despise it and want nothing more than to run screaming for the hills when I hear the first few notes of "Santa Baby"]; psychotic and aggressive parents pepper spraying less zealous parents for toys; rampant materialism; feeling obligated to give drunken transients my spare change in the spirit of being ‘merry;’ an endless circuit of holiday parties; struggling with artificial trees and cumbersome decorations; those who magically succumb to religious fervor December 24-25th; and a host of other seasonally specific delights. 

Nope, this vent session isn’t about any of those things.  Instead we’ll be focusing on that horrendous monster sucking the soul out of me– which just so happens to be infinitely worse around Christmas– my constant companion I call STRESS.  And to think:  this isn’t even the stress that is a direct result of my unfortunate present circumstance!  We’ll collectively refer to these as the ‘other’ categories of the S-word.

Want to know a major source of my stress?  I’m glad you answered affirmatively because I was going to tell you regardless.  Facebook.  That stupid social network is the bane of my existence.  Getting rid of my account seems to be the next logical step….but I’m reluctant to sever such an important digital tie with people I wouldn’t be communicating with otherwise.  Nor do I want to get rid of all those pictures.  What to do, what to do.  Drastically decrease my usage?  Sadly enough if it’s there I get suckered into the abyss.  My ‘deactivation’ proved successful– I wasn’t chomping at the bit to return– yet I felt a surge of panic when I had updates for the masses and no place to post them.  If only everyone on Facebook actively followed this blog….

I’m not losing any sleep over the “to Facebook or not to Facebook” debate, that was just a preface to why I think it’s so damn annoying.  Recently I started the initial phase of a massive ‘friend’ purge.  Over 100 names were gone within minutes– and many more to come.  It was so liberating!  I’m at a complete loss for how I acquired 1000+ ‘friends’ [especially considering I deny requests from those I don't know personally] but who are those people?!  If I don’t know you, we rarely speak, or you were on my list because of somebody who is no longer in my life = gone.  If you’re a chronic complainer who takes zero action to rectify your circumstance[s], constantly glorifying your partying, or too overbearing = gone.  If you’re traveling a road that is counterproductive to where I am in my life or somebody who is more trouble than they’re worth = gone.   If you’re a stressor and responsible for one of my numerous “REALLY?!” moments = gone.  If you’re a drama queen = gone.  If you continuously disrespect my space = gone.

At least I'm not the only one who looks a little less than enthused when I see Santa.

Some of you can attest to the fact that I don’t discriminate with my trigger happy delete finger.  Even my own mother and some of my closest friends aren’t on my Facebook page.  I refuse to apologize for this.  Ask yourself which of the aforementioned bold statements pertains to you– there’s your answer– and don’t say you weren’t sufficiently warned.  Finding yourself relegated to outside the Facebook circle of trust [I say that in a tone tripping with sarcasm] is not the end of the world.  You will survive.  I’m not going to end a friendship over internet behavior but I will not hesitate to nip an online problem in the online bud and move on with my offline life.  Watching otherwise intelligent, mature, and rational people panic over something so inconsequential– and take it way too personally– is both amusing and sad.

Three more Facebook complaints conclude my spiel:  the block list, boys behaving badly, and name dropping.  My block list is extensive.  I take no chances with unwanted interlopers.  However, I get a kick out of removing people from it every so often….it’s disturbing the number of former blockees who contact me within 24 hours.  Do they just sit around waiting, hoping, praying that they’ll receive another chance to be in my good graces?  Because I am so quick to eliminate people without a second thought, I regard the other end of that spectrum– those with stalker-ish tendencies– with a sort of morbid curiosity.  I should really stop doing that because it transitions from funny to creepy in approximately 2.5 seconds.

Boys behaving badly.  What can I say about this revolting bunch?  Nothing warms my heart and quite like seeing all these holiday posts from guys extolling the virtues of their [completely oblivious] significant other….and knowing that they are far from Mr. Faithful.  Bonus points if these losers have children with said significant other.  It’s only a matter of time before you make a mistake and expose yourselves.  Actually, I should amend that to people behaving badly.  Just as many females do it too yet I see it more from the wayward gentlemen so that’s the first gender that comes to my mind.

I'll miss the annual Christmas trip to Mulligan's.

Nothing grates my nerves more than being name dropped by homeboys.  I do not have a monopoly on my friends nor do you need my permission to contact one of them.  But if you are going to say “I’m Sloane’s friend…” and proceed to be disgusting, a total creeper, or unrelenting in your pursuit– thanks in advance for the mortification and making me look bad.  Keep my name out of your mouth with that one.

While we’re on the topic of dudes, I don’t know what planet on which most of them reside.  How can anyone in their right mind think that while I am in the middle of the most important– and extremely messy– legal battle of my life I’m interested in romance?  Newsflash:  I’m not.  Not only do I find it inappropriate and tacky given the timing but it’s also quite insulting.  To think that I’d be interested in flirtation or whatever brief dalliance your dreaming of shows just how little you know me.  Feeding me ridiculous lines, calling me ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’ [either of those two automatically disqualifies you from ever being a blip on my radar], or trying to convince me why you’re so spectacular is a waste of your time.  Nobody I’d ever be interested in does any of those things.  And it’s completely irrelevant what interests me in a man because men won’t be interesting to me for a very long time.

In conclusion, what you’ve read here creates negative feelings.  Negative feelings lead to anxiety.  Anxiety leads to stress.  If you are a person who stresses me– regardless of how close we are or your role in my life or even if you had the best of intentions– you’ll be removed from my Facebook, your calls and texts ignored, emails unread, and I’ll pretend that you don’t exist until things are calmer.  It’s not callous.  I’m being proactive about my health and attempting to stay sane, you can’t fault me for that.

Merry Christmas!!

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane