Ghosts From the Past

My brother just moved into a new apartment only to learn that his next-door neighbor is our former stepfather. A man neither of us have seen in more than 20 years, and quite frankly, hoped dead. A man who regularly beat my mother, and less regularly, my brother.*

I used to lie in bed at night, imagining what I would do the next time he attacked her.  There was a gun in the top of her closet.  I knew how to use it, and he didn't. But I wasn't sure I could bring myself to actually shoot someone--and I knew the danger was too high if I wasn't successful. My alternative plan was to take her big iron skillet to the back of his head. But again, I was afraid of the consequences if I wasn't strong enough to knock him out. And so when he attacked her, we usually just ran to the neighbors and called the police.  And time after time, she took him back, even with breaks, bruises and hospital visits.

If you think it's ok to stay with a man who hits you, as long as he's not hitting the kids, you're wrong. First, you don't know when he's going to turn on the kids.  But the scars from watching my mother attacked over and over again, while she refused to remove herself and us from that situation, are as deep as any physical wound. It is the primary reason for the wedge between us. There was no reason not to leave.  He offered little financial contribution (he worked construction and often went weeks between jobs), and I can't name a single redeeming quality about him. She had family all around who could have helped her out. I will never understand why she didn't leave--and why she chose him over us.

I asked my brother if he said anything to him--told him that my inclination would be to sucker punch him. But my brother said he is old and frail now. He was 10-15 years older than my mother, and probably in his late 70's now. My brother is 6'/250lbs--no longer the scrawny kid who used to get his bare ass beat with a belt. 

I think I would have to move, in my brother's situation.  There is still too much anger there, even after 20 years. 



*He didn't mess with me, much.  He once pinned me to a wall, but backed off when I kneed him in the balls.  He slapped me once, hard enough to knock me into the refrigerator.  I moved in with my dad that day, and told my mother, "him or me." She chose him.

Still Here

I survived, in case you were worried about me. The plane was tiny--like a compact car with wings.  But the pilot was a retired commercial pilot, and the flight was smooth.  It was really not a bad way to travel. Not quite as fast as a jet, but when you factor in all the time saved from not having to stand in security lines (and, bonus!, no body scanners), it worked out about the same.

Meanwhile, it's birthdaypalooza around here.  Today is DH's b-day, which commenced with our traditional birthday morning dance party to the Beatles' Birthday Song. He's winding up his day with PS at the midnight premiere of the Dark Knight Rises.  Thankfully he has a teenage daughter to accompany him, because I am definitely too old to be out until 3:00 am.

The twins' b-day is next week, and their party a week from Saturday.  I sent out Evites last week and we have had 2 no's and one yes. No other responses (not even from their BFF!).  I don't know what we'll do if we don't get more yesses. TT and SS will be broken hearted, and I've ordered a ton of stuff and lined up a friend to bake each kid her own cake.

They've never had a big birthday party with all of their friends before because it's just so hard to pin people down in the middle of summer. We had a pretty big guest list, hoping that at least half would be able to come. Maybe it's just too early--we're usually lucky if we get a week's notice of a party.

Work is slow, but that's pretty typical for summer.  You can't schedule anything because somebody is always on vacation. The slower pace is nice--but it would be more appreciated during the hecticness of the school year.  We've only got a month of summer left, and I'm not ready for it to end.  I love the extra time with my girlies when we don't have to worry about homework or bedtimes.

Flying Ducts

So tomorrow I have to attend an out-of-town site inspection. And the client is flying us down on his private plane.

I'm not too excited about this.  I would far rather take a full-size commercial jetliner than a teeny-tiny private plane.  As DH said, "those things crash all the time!" (He's not too excited about this, either.)

Anyway, I worked until about 7:30 tonight, tying up loose ends in case today is my last day on earth.  Then met DH and the girlies for a quick dinner and finally made it home about 8:30, where I spent half an hour staring into my closet trying to figure out what the heck I am wearing tomorrow.

The problem: nearly all of my pants are hemmed for heels.  Heels are not appropriate for a site inspection. Usually I wear a nice pair of dark jeans, and that is perfectly appropriate and very much in line with what all of the other attorneys are wearing to these things.

But one of the big bosses is going, and the big bosses tend to err on the side of formal and I think he will be all frowny if I show up in jeans. 

I recall that I have one pair of black pants hiding in the back of my closet that I bought specifically to wear with my one pair of flats.  They've been back there so long there is a line of dust where they fold over the hanger. I put them on, excited to see that they fit.

Well, kinda.  They fit, but I'm left with a muffin top.  You know those 10 pounds that I lost when I quit eating bread?  Well, I've gained 5 of them back thanks to Sonic's half-price milkshakes after 8:00. I can't find a shirt to hide that muffin top.  It ain't pretty.

By 9:00 I decide that I am having a fashion emergency and must buy new pants. Of course, the only stores in town that are still open are Kohls and Target, and I have to be at the airport at 7:30 in the morning. Kohls it is, and my little fashionista, SS, comes along to give me advice (and manages to score a new pair of shoes off the clearance rack!).

I try on approximately 300 pairs of pants, before coming up with something suitable.  They're a bit too big, but at least there's no muffin top.  And they're too long to wear with my flats.

Back home by 10:00, and I have to figure out how to hem my pants.  I can sew,  but I don't do clothes, and I'm pretty sure it will look like crap if I try.  Not to mention that all of my sewing supplies are shoved willy-nilly into a closet since we turned my sewing room into TT's bedroom. That includes the iron-on hem tape that would be oh-so-handy right about now.

So I turn to duct tape. It will fix anything, right? And I have used duct tape to fix a hem in an emergency before (staples actually work better, but are more visible--I am notorious for catching a heel in my hem.).

And so I iron a sharp crease at the new hemline and proceed to hem my pants with pink and black zebra-striped duct tape. Fingers crossed that it holds, because there is an enormous opportunity here for me to make a total fool of myself.

Fingers and toes crossed that I make it home in one piece tomorrow. Hopefully the plane is held together with more than duct tape. If you don't hear back from me after this, it was nice knowing you.

Kid Stuff

We got the girls' rooms painted and they are settled back in. The new colors look awesome.  We did manage a checkerboard in PS's room by cutting big squares of black contact paper and sticking them on top of the dark purple paint. I'm sure it was 1000 times easier than trying to paint a checkerboard, and it looks really good (and cost $14 for the contact paper!)

PS continues with her pseudo-goth look.  Right now she is begging me to let her dye her hair jet-black (from her natural dark brown). She's almost 14 and going into high school.  Hair color is not a hill I want to die on, but I wish it weren't black.  My stylist said that if she did it, it would be really hard to get out again.  Sigh. I promised her a decision by this morning.

TT and SS have a birthday this month and are dying for iPod touches. I refuse to buy them, because I don't think they take care of things well enough, and I think it's too much to spend on a gadget for an 11 year old. But I did tell them that if they can come up with half the money, I would pay the other half as their birthday present.

We'll see if they can do it.  They don't have much saved up because they tend to get distracted and spend their money on every bright, shiny object they see.  Their current plan is to have a garage sale.  I'm glad to see them trying to earn the money--and cleaning out their closets. I hate garage sales though--I'd far rather donate my junk. And I don't think they have enough stuff to get them there. But maybe that plus some birthday money from the grandparents will get them close.

Meanwhile, we're bringing back the Amazing Race/scavenger hunt party that we did for PS a couple of years ago. It was a lot of work, but so much fun. I love planning parties!