dionna4570

My guilty pleasure is EBAY.
Someone stop me. I can sped hours on there just looking. I mean, you can find ANYTHING.
Really...just enter something in the search area. Anything you remember having as a child. Like  Cher doll. Or a Star Trek figure.
Or remember that doll named Dawn? She was 5 inches tall and came with this short mini-dress and had super-long eyelashes?
Anyway, obsessed with EBAY.

Okay, so after 13 years of being married and 19 years of being together, you'd think he'd figure out when I'm pissed.
Come on....give me a break already. Here's my morning.....
1. Wake up.
2. Wake the kids up.
3. Look for socks and clothes for the kids and myself.
4.Wake them up again.
5. Make sure their boots, gloves and all the other lovely items they lose throughout the year are ready.
6. Wake them up...again.
7. Get lunch money  ready...or lunches if they decide school lunch is too gross.
8. Threaten personal harm if they don't get out of bed immediately.
9. Make breakfast.
10. Make sure they have everything they need in their schoolbags.
11. Get them off to school...all the while trying to get them to stop fighting...make them apologize for calling each other nasty names.
12. Get the baby ready...change his diaper, get him dressed, brush his hair, help him brush his teeth, put his shoes on...yadda yadda.
13. Take a shower, get ready, do hair, put on makeup...yadda yadda.
14. Put our coats on.
15. Drive to the daycare.
16. Drop him off
17. Go to work and work all day.


THIS IS HIS MORNING......
1.Wake up.
2.Take a shower, poop and shave.
3. Leave for work and work all day.

TADA.

So when I ask him to do this, that or the other...it would be nice if he didn't make is seem like I asked him to give birth for me.
So when Joe wakes up in the middle of the night and needs a treatment, I want him to at least ASK me if I need help.
WTF? Just ask. I will most likely say no....but just asking would be nice.

Well, today I am awake at 5:15. I went to sleep at midnight so I feel lucky to have slept that 5 hours and 15 minutes straight through. Is that nuts? I'm grateful for that sleep. Sometimes there are only 2 hours in between each sleep. Go to sleep at 12...wake up every night at the same time...2:41 a.m.. What is that? Why the same time every night? Go back to sleep(if I'm lucky), and wake up in another 2 and a half hours. The doc gave me xanax and it works when I take it but who wants to take it?

Okay, so weird things have been happening. My computer has been skipping and so has my music on my playlist. Then I set the phone down and it dialed itself the number 5 -15 times.  This all happened within 2 minutes of each other.  If you believe in spirits then I might have an answer. My grandmother, my daughter and I were all born on the same day. April 5th. So 5 has always been my number. I can totally see her messing with my computer because I am on it far too often and the phone because it's wired and they like to come through electricity and wires. She was a great force in our lives. The sibs lived with her and I lived with the other set of grandparents but I always felt a different connection with her. I look just like her in almost every way. The other sibs got the beautiful thick hair, lighter bodies and more of the height. I got the thin hair, the weight and I am 5 foot tall. She was a great woman. She made sense, was honest, good and everyone loved her. They all called her Granny. She lived in a subdivision with a very diverse population. All the kids were drawn to her and I am sure when she died, that everyone there mourned her passing. She was amazing.
I remember talking to a "pyschic" and she was telling me that there was a heavy-set woman looking over me, an older woman. I said not that I know of. I knew that it sounded like my grandmother but as far as I knew, she was still living. But what I didn't know was that she had died a few weeks before that. I didn't find out for 3 weeks after she died. Until my aunt called and said there would a memorial here in Chicago.The really terrible part is that I hadn't spoken to her since our fight a year before that. We had a fight about my weight. She had always been heavy set and she worried as she watched me gain more and more weight. She was on me health reasons. I said some mean things to her before I left her in a huff. I never called and I never wrote. She got sick and moved to Florida with my aunt. I never saw her again. I miss her. She was a an extraordinary woman.


     granny           joe and me

my angel April.

Someone at work today posed this question to me....If you had one more day with someone, what would you say or do with them?
It was an easy answer. So easy that I couldn't really say it out loud.
I would have one more day with my Dad. I'd ask him what his favorite song was. I'd ask him if he ever sang me to sleep. I'd ask him if he loved me when I was a child. I'd ask him why he chose his drug over me...over all of us. I'd ask him if when I was a little girl, if he kidnapped me from my Grams or was I dreaming? I'd show him his grandchildren and tell him how I never had a real mom or dad, yet I am a pretty good mom. No one taught me how to love. No one taught me the way to raise babies. I learned it all on my own.
I'd want to ask him if he knew all I'd accomplished and all I hadn't. I'd say I was sorry for not sitting closer to him that day we came to see him at Granny's before he died. I'd say I was sorry for not knowing who he was, for not recognizing him in the room full of people. I'd say I was sorry for my own loss. For the loss of never knowing him. The loss of never knowing his love.
I remember the day of his funeral. How I cried...no, wailed. How my sister and my cousin wanted to know why I was crying since I barely knew him. I wasn't crying because he died. I was crying because  I didn't know him. I didn't have the answers to all my questions and I never fucking would. I was so young. Just 16 and all I ever wanted was a real dad and mom. I just wanted to know him. Just know him. He spent his life wasted, drunk, high and then finally died because he shared needles with his friends. Back then they didn't call it AIDS. They said what you died of. Not that it was complications of. So technically he died of Cirrhosis...not the Aids virus that killed all of his friends in quick succession. But we knew what it was.
And for that...he died. Not for his country, not for his children, not some noble death...but a junkies death. This man who sang like an angel, who had the hands of an artist and the mind of a genius. He played guitar, too. A man of many talents who did nothing with them but drugs.
I just wanted to know him.
Him.
He.
My Dad.
I loved you even though I never knew you.
Edward Ronald Piotrowski

I remember those days....of kissing boys and telling secrets.
God, I loved to kiss boys. I can't even remember how many I kissed back then. Too many I'm sure. So many that I'd never tell my daughter how many, that's for sure.
I want to feel like that again someday. The way I felt when I was younger. The freedom, like how you feel when you drive down Lake Shore Drive....listening to Rod Stewart Forever Young.
I remember that day. Riding in my boyfriends<now my husband> 1986 mint Olds Cutlass Supreme with the moon roof. That thing was so beautiful. We'd go so fast down L.S.D. that my hair would be wrecked. That song came on and I sang it at the top of my lungs.
"Oh rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
With the words i love you rolling off my tongue
No never will I roam for I know my place is home
Where the ocean <okay Lake Michigan> meets the sky
Ill be sailing......

Ridiculous, I know but that was the time before we got engaged, before we moved in together, before marriage, before each one of our three angels were born....when we sat at the lake at 10 at night and just kissed and talked and kissed and talked.
When we were still us and not ALL OF US.
Don't get me wrong. I'd change nothing about my life...nothing. And those who know me know there was a lot to change about it but everything I have ever gone through made me strong. A lot stronger than I thought I was.
But I still miss kissing boys. Not boys boys but just the freedom of kissing.
That time of my life feeling. Knowing everything was ahead of me...not already behind me.


This post inspired by another LIVEJOURNAL POST.