Full Moon?

Full Moon?

I’m sure this moon has already caused me to turn into someone else. 

I’m one of those people that has a complete personality change when the moon is full. I’m extremely grouchy. Tired. Annoyed at everything. Yes. 

Usually I’m all of those, but a full moon definitely magnifies these morsels of personality I carry. 

I also have this raging desire to drink alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. 

but if i was able to choose what I turn into when there’s a full moon:

I would become a fire-breathing eagle. 

ha, just kidding. as badass as that sounds, probably not.

Perhaps a majestic lion. no, no no. 

Unicorn? Hm, not really. 

Fire goddess from Samoan mythology, Nafanua? better not. 

 

I think I would like to be a mermaid. Yeah. A mermaid.

Swimming away with my mermaid friends. Hanging out. No taxes, no bills, don’t have to buy gas for a car. Well, I don’t know if there is some weird mermaid government in the ocean, but I imagine there isn’t haha.

A mermaid. That’s what I’d turn into. 

I’ve never run away.

well, for more than a night. One time I ‘ran away’ in high school. It didn’t really count, I came home the next day. 

Although I’ve never actually done it, I think about it all the time. I sit and think about leaving everything I know, my entire life, and just walking away. 

No explanations.

No warnings. 

Just turning around and walking away. 

I’m not really sure it’s possible for me to do it, considering that I love clothes, makeup and expensive hair care products. I always end up thinking about what I would pack if I were to ditch everything.

But if I pack, am I really leaving everything behind? NO.

I almost feel incapable of abandoning everything. What about my phone? I like it. I don’t go anywhere without it. How would I know where to go without my cherished navigation system? What would I do when I was bored if I didn’t have games to play on my phone? What about my toothbrush? Should I take that? or just buy another one when the need arises? The list continues. I debate whether leaving all of my belongings is worth the trouble of missing them while they are gone. 

Part of me believes that running away would give me a new perspective on life.  I also believe that if I run away I’ll end up somewhere in Europe doing drugs in a dark alley and robbing tourists. 

I don’t even know if I could run away if the avenue presented itself. I don’t know where I would go. It would hurt so many people, my husband, my family, my friends. Based on my reputation for religiously keeping in touch, they would all think me dead somewhere. and based on their reputations, they would probably wish me dead if I ever came back, jumped out from behind a wall and said “SURPRISE! I’m alive!” yeah, I’d probably earn quite the shiner from that.

but suppose I finally did it. I just left. I walked out right now. No car, no phone, no purse. Nothing. I just went. I wonder what it would be like. Probably miserable. Having no form of identification would most likely ruin any and all travel plans. 

ok, so starting over. I left. No car, no phone. Only my ID and the money in my pocket (around $44) where would I go? What would become of me? Would I make friends? Would I eat? Where would I sleep? Would my friends and family begin a campaign to find me? Is it a crime to run away? Would I find myself? Would I become part of a cult? Would I join some religious chapter somewhere? Would I live in the forest and grow outrageous amounts of body hair? Would I create a new identity and become famous? 

All these questions. 

All these possibilities. and I’m still sitting here. in my corner of the universe. only thinking, not doing. looking, not moving. 

I should be less responsible.

I think it would benefit myself and my husband if the two of us were normal. Our friends that we love dearly and hold close to our hearts are wonderful, caring, sweet irresponsible individuals.

The majority of people between the ages of 18 and 23 are irresponsible, well, the majority of the ones I know. They flake out on things, miss family gatherings, dabble in recreational drugs (hey, whatever man) spend money on things they don’t need, live well beyond their means, have mountains of debt, party constantly, consistently battle hangovers, and are not dependable.

For some reason, my husband and I are not. We are responsible. We budget our money, pay all of our bills on time, spend responsibly, attend family gatherings regularly (dance recitals, Sunday dinners, birthday parties, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Bat Mitzvahs, whatever) are consistently paying down our debt, party when we have the time, avoid hangovers because we get up early in the morning, and are dependable. 

Our families call on us for everything. We don’t mind. Picking up someone from school here, feed the dogs at the parent’s house there, take so-and-so to his school dance, babysit blahblahblah for a couple hours so we can go to a movie-all of that. Yay. We are those people. The ones who will show up when someone calls in the middle of the night. We love our families, we will do what they ask. We relish in feeling loved because they can depend on us.

THAT BEING SAID,

This week has been some bullshit. I’ve contemplated playing in traffic on the highway because I’m so miserable. This is where I draw the line. We’ve been married a whopping 5 months. This last request is beyond un-fucking-reasonable.  My husband’s Aunt lives in the same city as us. She’s a nice old bird, in small doses. Sweet lady, in SMALL DOSES. By small, I mean a couple of hours max, before you start thinking about which window to jump out of so you can run. She talks too much. She is stubborn. She abides by extremist interpretations of the Bible. I have nothing against religion, I am religious, but don’t throw odd beliefs at me (I like beef, if the Bible says a hamburger is a sin, oh frickin well) I like to stay up late. I like to smoke cigarettes. I like going out to get a drink when my husband gets off work (around midnight, 1 AM) I like MY OWN HOUSE. I have lived on my own (+my husband for a couple years) since I was 17. I like having my own rules. I like having my own house. I fuckin pay for it, I’ll do what I want.

-Anyway

for the past week I have been stuck babysitting my husband’s aunt. Her kids do not live here. They live out of state. All of them.  So me and my husband were volunteered to monitor her, much to her dismay. But not before EVERYTHING in her home was picked up and whisked away by her kids. Cookware, decorations, seating, plates, forks, EVERYTHING. I’ve been sleeping on a floor. I have to sneak out and walk behind the house to smoke, because she doesn’t approve. I can’t listen to music. I can’t I can’t I can’t. On top of this, she doesn’t even want us there. She wants to be ‘independent’ even though she can’t walk two feet in one direction without almost falling.  Everything about this situation SUCKS. It SUCKS!

I’m convinced that if we weren’t dependable, this wouldn’t have been pushed off on us.

I just want to go home. I almost feel betrayed by my husband because he agreed to this horrible situation. Didn’t we take vows to protect each other? Did we promise each other to put one another before anything and everyone else? I put my husband before my family all the time, when you get married, that’s what you do. When you get married you tell your family, hold up muthafuckas, this guy comes first. People who don’t do that, usually complain about their significant others, and shit all over their relationships. Well, usually. From what I’ve seen anyway.

She is fucking rude too. Every time she’s on the phone with one of her fellow old lady friends, she tells them that she wishes we’d go home. I always want to stand up and scream at the top of my lungs

“I want to go home, but your fucking kids will hold it against me forever!!!!!”

Nobody else seems to take this seriously. She can barely fucking walk. But are her kids there? NO. Does she think she needs to use her cane? NO. So if I decided to go home one day and just say fuck this, and she decided to eat the hardwood floor, I would be in some serious shit with her kids. Her kids are in their 40’s. But they have the maturity of 16 year olds in high school. I know for sure that If something happened and I wasn’t standing guard, they would berate me and try to ruin my marriage.

Yeah, how’s that for a plot twist?

I can’t work. I can’t sleep. I can hardly eat.

I have slept maybe 10 hours in the last week. I haven’t made any sales at work this week. I don’t eat lunch, I eat very little, if at all. I don’t even want to try to eat food.  and i LOVE food. My entire life has become subject to someone I don’t particularly like, and who I’m pretty sure doesn’t even like me that much.

I have this odd inkling that if I were to see her off to bed, and go home, she would miraculously decide that it was a good night to “fall”. and then I would be hung out to dry. This Aunt has quite the reputation for being a liar and well, a bitch.

The story-

My husband’s Aunt has a brother. Nice man, a bible thumper, constantly preaching about God, whatever. He’s a nice man. Once upon a time he had a wife. Nice lady.  My husband grew up with her, she lives close to us, we see her often. We drink with her, hang out, hang out with her kids and her new husband. No big deal. Anyway, a few moons ago My husband’s uncle decided he was going to sleep around with other women while he was on business trips. Bing, they got divorced. No surprise. The real surprise was when my husband’s Aunt and her brother decided to peg his soon to be ex wife as depressed, addicted to drugs, a horrible person, unfit to raise their 4 kids. All in the name of a good old fashioned custody battle. Ex wife got custody, the Uncle got child support and the Aunt got…shit. Ex wife HATES the Aunt to this day and I’m pretty sure they haven’t exchanged words in the last decade. From what I’ve heard, the Aunt is an evil, plotting, scheming, judgmental, fake, two-faced person. From what I’ve seen, I would say its close to the truth.

 

She makes comments on my appearance and behavior that make me uncomfortable. and annoyed. I’m not an angel. I’m not a saint. But getting a side eye from her drives me up a fucking wall. I see the way she looks at my tattoos. I see the way she looks at me when I talk to my husband. She looks at me while I eat. She walks around while I’m sleeping.

bleh.

Why I’m so cynical about young people with kids.

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I get a lot of shit from friends and acquaintances who are around my age, who have children. I don’t have any children. I don’t want them…right now. Honestly, if they aren’t related to me, I avoid children and refuse to pretend that I like them. I despise people who bring crying babies into restaurants or movie theaters.  I get extremely annoyed at people who yell at their kids in grocery stores, while their kids is tearing down racks of clothing.  My maternal gene hasn’t kicked in yet, and that is a-okay with me.

Now, to young people with kids.  By ‘Young People’ I mean individuals under the age of 24. The young people I will be referring to are those who I seem to insult anytime I say ANYTHING about the fact that I haven’t popped out any pups yet. The ones who still live at home with their parents. The ones who can’t seem to control their offspring producing abilities. The ones who claim they have amazing lives with 4 kids at age 22. The ones who post picture after picture of being in a club on a Saturday night trying to convince the world they can still party after they’ve had kids. I understand that there may be a few young people out there who are living on their own, who are making a substantial amount of money, who are fully capable of providing for a child-great for them-but this isn’t aimed at them. This is for the ones who want to lecture me about why they are better than me just because they have kids.

This will explain my loathing for these people, and why I call BULLSHIT on their seemingly amazing lives with kids.

I WAS AN ACCIDENT.

yes, yes I was. I was an accident. My parents were high school sweethearts, went to college and after their freshman year, SURPRISE! I decided it was time to swoop in and stop all the fun and games. I have heard several different accounts about the reactions from my parents and their families, most of which were brutally honest.  My mother and father come from extremely religious families, so they were quickly married and I showed up 5 months later.  The pregnancy wasn’t planned, I wasn’t planned.  Here I am, nearly 22 years later.

My parents are still married.  I have never in my life seen a couple who loves each other more than they do.  My dad has told me many times that he made a promise to love my mother and he loves her more than his kids.  Yeah, he’s a very honest man, and I love him for it. They take care of each other. I’ve seen them argue twice in my lifetime. My mother will sit at our dinner table and wait for my dad to start eating before she takes a bite of her food.  They are pretty fucking awesome.

That being said, I shut the party down when I was born.  My parents didn’t go to clubs or parties, because I became the main priority and center of their entire universe. They started working to pay the bills, their social lives came to a halt.  My parents did everything they could to provide for me and get everything I wanted.

One day, soon after I became a teenager, started putting makeup on my face and putting effort into my hairstyle, my dad sat me down to give me his version of “the talk”.  We sat in the dining room after I got home from school.  He had a stern, but gentle look on his face. Almost nervous, but strong at the same time.  He looked at me and said, “I don’t want to see you end up like your cousin.” -My 16 year old cousin had recently gotten pregnant.

“I’m not dad, I wanna go to college”

“Yeah? Good, but you better not end up like that. It’s hard Vanessa, it is very hard to have a child like that. When me and Mom had you, it was very hard. I had to take care of you and Mom. I didn’t get to see my friends anymore. I didn’t get to go out and party like all of my friends. I had to work and come home to be with you and Mom. I had too much responsibility and I was too young. I was too young, Mom was too young, we weren’t ready and our life was hard.  We were poor when we had you. Mom cried a lot because we never had any money. I would have wanted to wait. Our lives would have been easier if we had you later. I love you, but having you made our lives very difficult.”

“I know dad, I wont end up like that”

And that was my dad’s version of the talk. Since then he has dropped details of how crappy life was with a kid at the age of 21. He is honest with me. He tells me that it would have been better for everyone if I wasn’t born so soon and my parents had been smarter and more prepared. I don’t remember us being poor, but my parents have started to tell me how much they struggled to provide.

They are amazing parents, when we did struggle, I had no flipping idea. My parents have worked hard and are extremely successful. They have plenty of money. They live a comfortable life, and the hardships of when I was first brought into the world are long gone. My siblings don’t believe my parents when they tell them we lived in the projects when I was born.  Its far away from the 5 bedroom 3 bathroom house in the suburbs that we grew up in.

I love my parents. I respect their hustle. They endured through everything and came out on top. I’m proud of how far they’ve come and so thankful that it was for me.

THIS is why I don’t believe it when people my age try to convince me their life is amazing with a kid and a job that pays 10 bucks an hour.  I know your life sucks, don’t try to convince me it doesn’t. Don’t try to tell me you can do whatever you want even with a kid, because you can’t. I have the luxury of going wherever I want, whenever I want-WITHOUT FINDING A BABYSITTER.  I can stay out all night if I want to.  I can take a trip to a different state at the drop of a hat if I want to. I have the freedom to do what I want. I have the choice of having a child. My husband and I are on the same page as far as having kids. He knows we aren’t ready, and I know we aren’t ready. We have the common sense to wait.  We want to bring a little person into our lives and make sure they will be taken care of without them having to suffer.  I don’t want my future kid to suffer because of my lack of planning.

Yes, I am cynical. I don’t care if someone has kids. I don’t want to hear someone complaining about their kids. They had them, they take care of them. Not my problem. I will continue to live life with my husband kid-free until we eventually decide to make some.