One of Those Days

You ever have one of those days where your mind is full of stuff but it’s so jumbled, you can’t figure anything out and why your head (figuratively) hurts you so much that it makes you sick to your stomach?  Or maybe the problem isn’t a bunch of stuff but your mind has nothing going on at all and it still does that?  I’ve been having a couple of those days lately.  I’ve been taking my medicine (speaking of which…), things seem to be totally normal for me, but I can’t shake this feeling.  My heart aches, my stomach is turning and I’m on edge.

The year, on the whole so far, has been shit, starting with the loss of my dad.  Mind you, the European trip was fabulous.  But it even seems like everyone around me is under the black cloud hanging over my family’s heads.  I know I’m being vague, but I’m not getting into all of the problems going on right now, since a lot of them do not have to do with me exclusively.  I have a couple things to look forward to:  new haircut, some new ink, a beach vacation.  I’m lucky in some aspects of my life.  Time is going fast, but not fast enough.  I know I shouldn’t wish life away, but I want some of these things that will make me happy to come faster.  I guess I’m sort of in a depressed state, even though I can’t be because I need to be there for my family, who all have their own sets of problems.  I need to be strong, a guiding force, someone to lean on, someone to cheer them up.  I try.  I really do.  But life is pounding away at me without lube right now and I can’t pinpoint the reason or reasons why.

I keep finding random coins in odd places and I know my dad is around me (laugh, if you will.  I still believe it.)  But what is he trying to say or do?  I can always guess, and for the most part, be spot on to what would come out of his mouth, if he said anything at all about something.  But we weren’t normally people to sit down and have a one on one chat.  That’s what my Grandmama was for; unfortunately, I don’t have access to her wisdom either.

I can’t think of any more to write at this time – like i said, jumbled mess or totally blank.  I just want this feeling to go away and I wish someone would tell me how to do that.  Until next time, here’s hoping for better days…

May 23, 2015 – London

So I drifted off earlier and forgot what I was going to say.  Still can’t remember.  It’s almost 3 am here so I’m finally adapting to the time change.  Seriously, I get up at random hours of the night at home and stay up.  Never been diagnosed with insomnia or anything like that though.  Anyway, nothing like having a hot cup of instant coffee 2 hours before you planned to get up.  Par for the course.  So, let me see if I can jog my memory about yesterday some more. (I said that if I publish this later, that I would fix it, but I probably won’t.  Just a warning.)

Actually, I’m trying to remember two days ago.  More walking, more sightseeing and some pictures.  Going through those pics, I didn’t take a lot except for the Changing of the Guard.  Interesting and we can say that we saw it in real time.  But it kinda took a while.  Standing in one place is tiring (I don’t know how the hell they do that), so there were a couple of times I almost nodded off (yes, while standing) and became dizzy and thought I would take a header down the marble steps of the Queen Victoria Memorial.  Ernie kept a good grip on me though, so I made it out okay.  Afterward, we walked through St. James Park, which was quite beautiful.

I think we came back to the hotel for a short time and then we set off for Bond Street.  Now, I knew in my head that all of the designer places were going to be expensive, some even extremely so.  I didn’t really take any pictures there.  I was too enthralled with all of the names – Chanel, Dior, Van Cleef and Arpels, Prada….Christ, they have a four-floor Victoria’s Secret, with one floor being a lounge (I guess for the guys.  Dunno.)!  I saw some very beautiful things that I so wanted, including this fabulous purse at Chanel.  One of the employees informed me, very kindly, that it cost over £4,000 and I only hoped that my eyes did not betray my mouth at that moment.  We left there and went to Alexander McQueen. There was a small floral 3-D purse that was over £1400.  It had matching shoes too!  I was in shopper’s heaven and hell.

I stopped going into some stores because it was plain depressing.  But we did stop at Tiffany’s and Ernie bought me a pair of sunglasses.  Not sure if they were the exact kind I wanted years ago, but I love them and finally got a pair.  We stopped in Coach (more in our price range) and I found this pretty mini bag that I had wanted earlier, but as I perused the store some more, Ern in tow, I looked at others – each bag getting cheaper, but I convinced myself not to get one.  I think Ernie was in my head at the time as well.  Needless to say, it wasn’t a fabulous shopping trip (except for Tiffany’s), because I knew these shops would be expensive, but I got a rude awakening each time I went into a store.  There are still plans to go into Christian Louboutin in Paris, but we’ll see how that goes.  Not getting my hopes up again.

We stopped at this pub on a side street and I had some fish and chips and he had some kind of steak and ale pie.  It wasn’t bad and I got another thing checked off my list of places to experience – an English pub.  I don’t remember doing much after that – a little more walking and the Tube.  We came back to the room early, ordered room service and crashed.

As for yesterday, I already said that we went to Westminster Abbey.  Did some souvenir shopping at their store and off we went on foot to places unknown.  Took the Tube to a station closer to the Tower Bridge and crossed that twice.  We took a walk by the River Thames (where I made a joke about being back at home) and just kept walking and taking everything in.  Oh, yeah – before we went across the bridge, we stopped at the Tower of London shop and I bought a few trinkets.  While I was shopping, Ernie was sitting around waiting and got shat upon by a bird.  Quite amusing, at least to me.  Then, after we crossed the river a couple of times, we went back to walking aimlessly around the city.  Ernie wanted to go to Fleet Street but  he didn’t realize how far that actually was, so that never happened.

By now, everyone was on their way home from work and the pubs were crawling with people.  So much so, that they spilled out onto the sidewalks, where they just stood and drank.  It was just something I wasn’t really used to seeing.  It amazed me.  We were going to join in, but I was getting a bit cranky by then, so we headed back to the hotel to regroup.

We ended up having dinner at the Caxton again (which we did when we first arrived at the hotel).  I got dressed up, which was the wrong thing to do because my feet were swollen from the walking and I wedged them into platform heels.  The pain was astounding.  Anyway, we sat in the lounge area, instead of the bar, this time, which was really nice and sort of romantic because it was just quaint and dimly lit.  After days of prodding Ernie to do a shot, he relented and we had some Jameson’s.  Cheers!

Once we were done, I sent him off to get some Cokes, which was stupid, because he was buzzing and ended up down by the river.  (I wondered why it took him so long when there was a store right down the street.).  And that was about it for the last few days.  Will I keep up with the walking when I get back home?  Probably not.  But it’s not so bad doing it here since there is just so much to see.

Oh, I forgot to mention that I had mistaken the Houses of Parliament (aka The Palace of Westminster) for Westminster Abbey.  Ernie got a good laugh out of that one.

This place is just so crazy-busy but Ernie’s being a trooper, even though I think these people (any and/or all) are annoying to him.  I could be wrong.  I guess we both had our own great expectations on different things.

Well, since I fell asleep again a few hours ago when I picked up writing again, it’s time for me to go get ready.  I’m hoping the rain holds out, but with my luck, it’ll be a downpour through most of the day.  I have to get to Abbey Road, dammit!  I have to cross that street!  Although, after much thinking, I’m going to leave my shoes on like 3 of the Beatles did, have a smoke in one hand like Paul, wear a black coat like Ringo, wear jeans like George and have a pair of (sun)glasses on like John.  Here’s to hoping all goes well on my “big” photo shoot and that I don’t get run over…

Wait, forgot to mention the car crash we saw outside of Northall Restaurant (which was absolutely divine – and I never use that word).  All you heard was CRUNCH! and then the one driver jumped out, yelling god knows what.  The things you see, oh, the places you’ll go….

May 19, 2015 – Departure

Apparently, I was more tired than interested in finishing my thoughts this morning.  Well, I’m finally on the first flight and handled most of the taxiing and ascent pretty well (okay, I grabbed the arm rests.  Don’t judge.)  The flight is okay so far.  Valium, Xanax and a double whiskey sours (spaced out over time) helped me out to get my butt on this plane.  (Jesus H on a stick, it’s hard to write legibly while flying.  Or falling asleep for that matter.)

Keeping an eye on the flight tracker on my personal screen (40 minutes until JFK).  I’m not really planning on writing too much on the flight to Heathrow.  I’m either drinking or sleeping.  (Seriously, this is fucking hard to write while on here.)  Maybe, I’ll just end here now and pick up later.  This is too ridiculous for me.  Let’s just hope I’m as calm as I am now for the other two flights on this trip…

Mommy Dearest (Well, not quite….)

I’m not cut out for this motherhood shit.  My kids would be much better off with another mother.  Just hear me out.  I love my kids.  I really do.  I love seeing them achieve new things and reach new milestones.  I love seeing them happy and hearing them laugh.  But the day-to-day stuff doesn’t seem to fit with me.  I’m a terrible teacher.  I get priorities wrong.  I actually opted to give my oldest one grapes for breakfast this morning instead of making eggs, just because I didn’t want to.  How fucked up is that?  Then, I begrudgingly made her 3 pieces of toast because she was still hungry and on my ass about it.

Moms aren’t supposed to talk or act like this.  They’re supposed to be nurturing, caring, ready and willing.  And then there’s me.  What seems to be the “just there” mom, or whatever media-based term that someone would stick on me nowadays.  Was I not born with that particular gene?  It doesn’t seem like it.  I suck at this.  I don’t make 3 square meals every day –  that should not imply that my kids are not fed, because they are.  And thankfully, they like fruits and vegetables and such, instead of junk food and McDonald’s (not that they don’t like that from time to time).  I make an actual dinner, like, once a week and it’s always pasta.  (That’s exactly what I’m doing right now as I’m writing this.)

I’m hardly ever in the mood to play Candyland.  Seriously.  I’d rather work on a photo book or a blog post (another thing I’m actually doing at this time).  I hate bath time, although the little one makes it easy for me.  For now.  (My husband, not so much.  Poor guy.)   And just how in the hell do you get a Mott’s fruit gummy stuck in your hair as if it were chewing gum?  Looks like someone’s in need of a little haircut….

Children’s television is my go-to for entertainment but it is the stuff that nightmares are made of, at least to me anyway.  Dora – you’re killing me.  Yo Gabba Gabba, what the hell are you?  Don’t even get me started on Caillou.  Whiny, little bitch…

And the laundry.  It’s like I blink and the hampers are full of chalk-covered pants and poop-stained onesies.  So not fun.  Oh, the laundry gets washed, but only on a really good day will it get folded and put away.  (I even have a collection of one-off socks on my dresser.  And I know the dryer isn’t eating them.)  Otherwise, it’s take your pick from the baskets every morning.

Did I mention I’m not a good housewife in general?  Because I’m not.  I used to be real OCD about things, especially with cleaning.  And then something happened, although I’m not exactly sure what that “something” was.  Like I said, my priorities aren’t always straight.

At the end of the day though, the house is still standing.  The kids are clothed, fed and clean.  I hear nothing but good things about them from their teacher or babysitter.  My husband always manages to find the good in me, no matter how hard it may be to do so.  And the dogs, even the “Barking Buddha”, are asleep comfortably on their respective couches (which my dad hated for them to be on, by the by).  I love all of my kids, furry or not so.  Could they do better?  Hell, yeah.  But I guess we’re stuck with each other for the long haul.  On to the next, I guess….