I haven’t blogged in a few weeks because I honestly haven’t felt like it. I started to log on a few times but all I had to say were negative things so I decided to just not write them down. Well, here I am and pretty much all I have to say are negative things but I’m going to write them down anyway…WARNING – This entire post is me being sad and complaining and whiny. Don’t continue to read if you don’t want to hear me venting.
One of my best friends moved away a few weeks ago. She and I became friends when we were pregnant with our first girls, and then totally randomly we had them on the same day! What are the chances of that right? So we went on to have our 2nd kids and they are only a few weeks apart too. Over the past year she stayed home with her kids so we didn’t get together nearly as often as we used to but we still talked on the phone almost daily. I knew from day one of meeting her that they would move away eventually. Her husband was doing his Medical residency here in Kansas City and their ultimate goal was to eventually end up near both of their parents in Ohio. The fact that they would eventually move seemed SO far away back in 2008. It slowly crept up on both of us, but reality hit when they listed their house for sale this past Spring. I wish we could have gotten together more often over the past few months, but she was so busy on the weekends trying to pack, attend going away parties, etc… We were in California the day they actually moved, and I have been travelling a lot this month so reality hadn’t really hit until last weekend when I was home with the girls and I almost called her to see if they wanted to come over for dinner. Ugh. This really sucks. I miss her and the kids a lot and I cry a lot thinking about them.
This past Saturday was my 34th birthday. I’m not really a huge birthday person, never have been. I travelled all last week and Ryan had to re-arrange his schedule so he could pick up the girls which meant he had to leave way early every day. I knew he would have to work on Saturday of my birthday. I was really fine with it. I told him a month ago that all I wanted for my birthday was to go out to a nice dinner. He managed to rearrange his work schedule so he didn’t have to close on Saturday night, and he said something to the effect of (in a dull, non-caring voice) “if you really want to go out on Saturday night I guess you can try and find a babysitter”. I felt about as important as my cat and dog (aka not very important). I told him no thanks and that it hurt my feelings that he said it like that, and that maybe he could make the effort to find a babysitter and plan things. His response “Well, you are the one with the babysitter contacts”. Okay, somewhat true, but he knows one babysitter we use (his niece) and if he REALLY wanted to he could have easily found someone else. I can think of several ways he could have contacted the other babysitters we use. Seriously!? I was pretty mad. So Saturday comes around. He never told me happy birthday. He went to work. I took the girls to the grocery store, made lunch, cleaned up the house (which looked 10x worse than it did when I left earlier in the week), and did laundry. My parents stopped by and brought me cupcakes which was nice. Ryan got home around dinner time. I had just fed the girls and I was eating chicken and veggies with the girls. Not exactly my ideal birthday dinner. And to top if off, none of my friends called me to wish me a happy birthday. Not even my in-laws who call everybody on their birthday (they called the next day). My brother did call later that night, but by that time I was so hurt and angry that our conversation was brief. I never thought any of this stuff would upset me as bad as it did, but I was seriously devastated. It was the worst birthday I have ever had. I tried to talk to Ryan about it the next day but he completely shut down which he has been doing lately when I try to talk to him about anything (that’s a whole story in itself).
And then to top it off, my little niece (my brother's 6 month daughter) was officially diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy. We knew a diagnosis like this was coming for the past couple of months, but it was still a hard blow to handle. I had talked myself into believing she didn't really have it and she had something more minor, because she has been doing really well with her physical therapy, so when Matt called and told me I just couldn't believe it. My stomach turned in knots. It just doesn't seem fair. Why are my kids okay and his are not? What did they do to deserve this? It just breaks my heart...I can't think of any other way to describe it.
So there’s my depressing post. If you read this you probably feel a whole lot better about yourself right now and probably think I’m a headcase. I kind of feel like it lately…
