Creeping
I'm still around. :)
Not at all happy about this whole being back in DuBois thing. My brother, most of all, is being an asshole. Most of it has to do with the fact that whatever he does for work, has some sad form of a "union" that my dad laughs at any time Sam calls. So my brother is trying to get real negotiations happening. In Pittsburgh, in the middle of an economic aneurysm.
But this means, as well, that he's panicked, and is weighing his options about what to do and, more importantly, where to go. The funny thing about this, is that my parents have known for a month that this was happening with us. We were trying our damnedest to avoid it, but we at least gave them warning.
When it gets hilarious is the part where this house is already messed up lol. Bobby, Sam's childhood bff, has moved in, and has his kids for whatever half of the week he's not out working at a grouphome. Then, the fact that my mother's bff Shar is going to be receiving chemo down the street from this house. And she's probably going to be staying here.
And my mom's going to be taking a leave of absence from nursing to take care of her.
Fuckingkillme.
My mother just got on my case about a bag of random but necessary shit for our kitchen that's still not put away. It's shit like spices (already in surplus in this house), recipe boxes (that are filled with recipes that were copied from ones in this house), utensils and baking pans (I think you know here this is going).
And a pile of laundry sitting in the hallway. Because it needs washed, and I seriously think that it should be obvious by no one more than my mother. She has seen the horror I bring upon clothes. The shrinking, stretching, tearing, pulling, knotting, fraying, bleeding messes that happens no matter if I set them for gentle cold cycles and hang them to dry. Seriously, every time.
She also got on my case about Bug being enrolled in school. And that kind of sucks for her, because I'm totally homeschooling her this year, because of the plain and simple fact that within six months of leaving DuBois, Kaydence's grades skyrocketed while her time with aides was cut into a fourth of the time. I know how to teach that child so that she is both interested and understands it, and thanks to AWESOME teachers and aides she's got a great head start.
We also have no bloody idea where we'll be in six months to a year, and I'm so fucking tired of taking her out of an environment that she's starting to get used to, and having friends, and getting to know her school and teachers. I know I was unhappy enough to go to middle school from Reynoldsville, but she's been in three different schools and is entering third grade. Nope. Not doing it.
But yes, my mom. I apologize.
You must realize that before this, my mother hasn't said anything to me that wasn't mean and sarcastic as hell for months now. She personally wrote on my fucking timeline on facebook, telling me that I should just get over my lifestyle and start focusing on my life. THE FUCK. Because I share links and pictures on my facebook. About gayness, and gay rights, and gay marriage. Oh no! And cats, and humor, and geekery.
So, having this woman in the house tout les temps would make me go insane.
Twice a year doesn't sound very appealing to me.
So there's all of that happening, and we're pretty sure my brother's gearing up for a leave of absence of his own from Pittsburgh because it doesn't sound like it's going so well, and he's being a douche, and being a douche about me and Di to my dad, who's already hearing enough shit about us from my mother, so it's making us feel like we're complete assholes ourselves and never come out of this bedroom because I don't need that shit. Please return to the insanity comment for reasons why.
We've been putting applications in as often as possible, so that we can just save up a shit ton of money and gtfo of here. Again.
I don't like having to be a bitch to my dad, but he makes these snarky, smarmy ass comments to me, that I know originated in some form from Sam, because I know his comedic stylings. Like whenever my dad asked if we were gonna use Di's dad's address to send her back to Juniata instead of Wasson again. He made the comment after, when I hesitated, something about just moving her again in six months. I said that I was going to keep her home this year to avoid that very issue, and he kept at it with a "Well, I suppose that's a no then" and look looked him in the eye as I said, "You shouldn't be bitching. As long as we're getting out of your house, right?"
I don't like being mean to them, but they're treating me like a piece of shit. Every fucking thing they say is just spiteful at this point. Good on you assholes for having your lives together by the time you were our age---oh wait, you weren't. By the time my dad was my age, he was newly divorced and living with his mother, just beginning to enter the police force, if he had by that point yet (it was within that year, I know that). By the time my mom was my age (there's an eight year difference between them), she had just then graduated nursing school. We were on a reduced lunch list at school and a mac n' cheese, assorted pastas, hamburger and hot dog diet at home. My school clothes and Christmas presents were paid for in large by my birth father's child support.
They were also living in a house that my dad paid absolutely nothing for. No rent, no loans, no mortgage. Property taxes of about two thousand dollars annually, and utilities.
So fuck them. They weren't anywhere near as perfect and balanced as they tried to pretend. We were doing just fine financially up until this whole mess called May swept through. I'm tempted to look into the one bedroom apartments just because they are cheap as hell, take nothing to heat, and as long as we have a room for Bug, I'd be satisfied with this nifty blow up sofa bed that we bought with Di's first paycheck (after the car and car insurance were paid on). And a large closet. That would be key.
All in all, things are getting better. It's mostly just frustrating at this point all of the criticism coming from my parents. It's not like we want to be here. Actually pretty much the opposite. We bawled like little girls with Tara because we had to come back here. We cried a bit again the night before she had to go back to Erie after her trip down for their anniversary.
This sucks for us too. But we're trying to remedy it. Unfortunately, being broke for two months straight kind of puts a damper on that for a month or two, but we're getting there, damnit. And if I spend forty bucks along the line going out for a couple of pitchers with Tara and a couple bottles of wine, it's because I'm trying to maintain my sanity goddamnit.
Not at all happy about this whole being back in DuBois thing. My brother, most of all, is being an asshole. Most of it has to do with the fact that whatever he does for work, has some sad form of a "union" that my dad laughs at any time Sam calls. So my brother is trying to get real negotiations happening. In Pittsburgh, in the middle of an economic aneurysm.
But this means, as well, that he's panicked, and is weighing his options about what to do and, more importantly, where to go. The funny thing about this, is that my parents have known for a month that this was happening with us. We were trying our damnedest to avoid it, but we at least gave them warning.
When it gets hilarious is the part where this house is already messed up lol. Bobby, Sam's childhood bff, has moved in, and has his kids for whatever half of the week he's not out working at a grouphome. Then, the fact that my mother's bff Shar is going to be receiving chemo down the street from this house. And she's probably going to be staying here.
And my mom's going to be taking a leave of absence from nursing to take care of her.
Fuckingkillme.
My mother just got on my case about a bag of random but necessary shit for our kitchen that's still not put away. It's shit like spices (already in surplus in this house), recipe boxes (that are filled with recipes that were copied from ones in this house), utensils and baking pans (I think you know here this is going).
And a pile of laundry sitting in the hallway. Because it needs washed, and I seriously think that it should be obvious by no one more than my mother. She has seen the horror I bring upon clothes. The shrinking, stretching, tearing, pulling, knotting, fraying, bleeding messes that happens no matter if I set them for gentle cold cycles and hang them to dry. Seriously, every time.
She also got on my case about Bug being enrolled in school. And that kind of sucks for her, because I'm totally homeschooling her this year, because of the plain and simple fact that within six months of leaving DuBois, Kaydence's grades skyrocketed while her time with aides was cut into a fourth of the time. I know how to teach that child so that she is both interested and understands it, and thanks to AWESOME teachers and aides she's got a great head start.
We also have no bloody idea where we'll be in six months to a year, and I'm so fucking tired of taking her out of an environment that she's starting to get used to, and having friends, and getting to know her school and teachers. I know I was unhappy enough to go to middle school from Reynoldsville, but she's been in three different schools and is entering third grade. Nope. Not doing it.
But yes, my mom. I apologize.
You must realize that before this, my mother hasn't said anything to me that wasn't mean and sarcastic as hell for months now. She personally wrote on my fucking timeline on facebook, telling me that I should just get over my lifestyle and start focusing on my life. THE FUCK. Because I share links and pictures on my facebook. About gayness, and gay rights, and gay marriage. Oh no! And cats, and humor, and geekery.
So, having this woman in the house tout les temps would make me go insane.
Twice a year doesn't sound very appealing to me.
So there's all of that happening, and we're pretty sure my brother's gearing up for a leave of absence of his own from Pittsburgh because it doesn't sound like it's going so well, and he's being a douche, and being a douche about me and Di to my dad, who's already hearing enough shit about us from my mother, so it's making us feel like we're complete assholes ourselves and never come out of this bedroom because I don't need that shit. Please return to the insanity comment for reasons why.
We've been putting applications in as often as possible, so that we can just save up a shit ton of money and gtfo of here. Again.
I don't like having to be a bitch to my dad, but he makes these snarky, smarmy ass comments to me, that I know originated in some form from Sam, because I know his comedic stylings. Like whenever my dad asked if we were gonna use Di's dad's address to send her back to Juniata instead of Wasson again. He made the comment after, when I hesitated, something about just moving her again in six months. I said that I was going to keep her home this year to avoid that very issue, and he kept at it with a "Well, I suppose that's a no then" and look looked him in the eye as I said, "You shouldn't be bitching. As long as we're getting out of your house, right?"
I don't like being mean to them, but they're treating me like a piece of shit. Every fucking thing they say is just spiteful at this point. Good on you assholes for having your lives together by the time you were our age---oh wait, you weren't. By the time my dad was my age, he was newly divorced and living with his mother, just beginning to enter the police force, if he had by that point yet (it was within that year, I know that). By the time my mom was my age (there's an eight year difference between them), she had just then graduated nursing school. We were on a reduced lunch list at school and a mac n' cheese, assorted pastas, hamburger and hot dog diet at home. My school clothes and Christmas presents were paid for in large by my birth father's child support.
They were also living in a house that my dad paid absolutely nothing for. No rent, no loans, no mortgage. Property taxes of about two thousand dollars annually, and utilities.
So fuck them. They weren't anywhere near as perfect and balanced as they tried to pretend. We were doing just fine financially up until this whole mess called May swept through. I'm tempted to look into the one bedroom apartments just because they are cheap as hell, take nothing to heat, and as long as we have a room for Bug, I'd be satisfied with this nifty blow up sofa bed that we bought with Di's first paycheck (after the car and car insurance were paid on). And a large closet. That would be key.
All in all, things are getting better. It's mostly just frustrating at this point all of the criticism coming from my parents. It's not like we want to be here. Actually pretty much the opposite. We bawled like little girls with Tara because we had to come back here. We cried a bit again the night before she had to go back to Erie after her trip down for their anniversary.
This sucks for us too. But we're trying to remedy it. Unfortunately, being broke for two months straight kind of puts a damper on that for a month or two, but we're getting there, damnit. And if I spend forty bucks along the line going out for a couple of pitchers with Tara and a couple bottles of wine, it's because I'm trying to maintain my sanity goddamnit.