Tuesday, April 20, 2010

I Got My Way... Why Does That Scare Me?

I just received not one but three phone calls from our church.

The first was from the church secretary asking if I was comfortable with the communion arrangements and assuring me that it was written in the booklet that there could be up to two communicants per mass. She told me that my "shepherd" had called her and told her of my confusion as to why there were two children instead of just the one. I apologized for being petty, that with my renovations and so many out-of-town guests coming and things not going as planned, that when I received the call, I felt like "here we go, something else that isn't going right". We ended the conversation in agreement with what was to happen on Sunday.

Thirty minutes later, she called again. She prefaced herself by saying this had nothing to do with me and was not done on my behalf, but the other family did not want their son's communion in the church, they wanted it in the hall (our church runs 3 masses at the same time in the main church, the auditorium hall, and the small chapel). My daughter would indeed be the only child receiving communion in the church on Sunday. I stopped breathing for fear I would be struck by lightening on the spot. She assured me that this had nothing to do with me. It just worked itself out.

Ten minutes after that, our "shepherd" called. I apologized to her for my behavior the night before explaining where my head was at. I asked if the other family's decision to have it in the hall had anything to do with me. She assured me "no". That when she was talking with them the night before they were surprised to hear her say the ceremony was in the church, when they had requested the hall. [Side note: This all came about because she had asked me if I had their phone number. If she had called them first, discovered the error, and then called me, I wouldn't have known about them at all. And I probably wouldn't have acted like a spoiled brat either.]

So I got my way. Why does that scare me so much? I'm actually holding my breathe because karma will no doubt get me for this one. I'm afraid to ask anyone, anywhere, for anything for at least until the weekend is over. Wish me luck.

And as always, thank you for listening to me vent.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Now I'm Just Being Petty

Renovations on both the kitchen and bathroom are DONE!!!

Cleaning crew comes tomorrow, landscaping gets finished tomorrow, I get my life back tomorrow.

But now I'm onto the next complaint, and it's a really petty one. I just received a call from our church. Our shepherd (the person handling our communion; think wedding planner provided by the church) called to discuss the details for Sunday. In the conversation she asked me if I had the number for John and Sue. "No... who are John and Sue?" "The parents of David who's getting his communion on Sunday too." WHAT?!

Our church has a wonderful tradition of scheduling not group communions but individual communions during regular masses. It's a way to integrate the child into the faith community. They receive communion first on that day. When we started the process, this is what I was told. So now, why is there someone scheduled on the same day at the same time? I had to have been the first person on the books because I called at 8am the day we were allowed to call. What was the point of that if there can be multiple communicants? And now (here comes the ultimate petty part) which kid gets to go first for their first communion?

I mean this is what they were saying all along. The child receiving their First Holy Communion receives it first. Now, when I said this to my husband, he just rolled his eyes and said "Are you going to complain about this too?" "No" (but I am going to blog about it.)

I'm just not getting my way lately, and I'm crossing my arms and stamping my feet and pouting. I may not be entitled but I'm doing it anyway. I just want everything to go right. And as planned. And the way I want. "Too bad, so sad" is all I hear ringing in my ears.

I'm acting like a complete and utter spoiled brat. So be it. I rarely get to, so let me have this. I'll get over it eventually... like next Monday. ;-)

Sunday, April 18, 2010

I'm Past the Crying Phase...

...and onto the angry portion of our show.

After yet another sleepness night, I have giving myself permission to LOSE IT! I have been patient, accommodating, understanding. I have taken the high road and bit my tongue when I wanted to correct and reprimand. I have taken out my frustrations directly on my husband and indirectly on my daughter and even the dog. I'M DONE! Today (assuming my contractor shows at all) I'm going to scream!

Yesterday was a typical day in my world the last two months. But let me back track a bit to give you the running start to my foul mood.

Back when we started these renovations we discussed work day schedules. I said he could start as early at 7am, but he had to be out by 5pm because I'm cranky after 5pm (which is true, but more importantly because I wanted a little privacy and unwind time with my family). He wanted to work Saturdays. I said fine. Long story short, he never showed at 7am. Or 8am. Or 9am. His average arrival time is 12n and lately, it's been 2pm. He said that 5pm is too early since he has a project he wants to accomplish each day in order to start the next. Fine, stay beyond 5pm (though at the time, it didn't occur to me that had he began his day in the AM he wouldn't need to work past 5pm).

As things progressed, I would notice that I would leave for work (11:15am) with an empty house and return to an empty house (1:45pm) but things had been moved. He works less than me - the 2 hour a day recess monitor. I'd call (PS I always called; he never calls) and say "are you done for the day?" "Yup." Are you kidding me? How is he supposed to finish by the end date working less than 2 hours a day when there is a list of things to do? Answer: He's not.

The kitchen was supposed to be finished 3 weeks ago. He never showed that week. The bathroom was supposed to be done last week. He worked two hours that day. Both were supposed to be completely completed at 2pm on Friday. He showed up at 1:30pm and left at 3pm. Yesterday he appeared at 3:30pm with his 9 year old in tow. Now I'm supposed to babysit while you do one thing and leave?

Let's move onto his "staff". One is a hardworker but with few skills. Plus he's illiterate (I've never actually met anyone who couldn't read; and certainly not at the age of 55) and so he can't drive without following "A" because he can't read directions. One is a complaining lazy worker with no skills either. He spends most of the time on his cell talking with "his ladies" (3 kids, 3 different woman, not one of them with the wife he hasn't seen in 5 years; oh, and he's 25) and smoking. He doesn't drive at all and recently failed his 3rd written driving exam. Both of these people are go-fers... "S get me a screwdriver." "M vacuum up this dust." They don't do anything else. Both have gotten used to me feeding them. They have gotten comfortable with talking to me as their equal. I'm not happy with that.

My list of things to fix is growing. Many of these items are a quick fix but still they remain on the list undone. It drives me crazy. Finish this project and get out! Showing up at 2pm, working 2 hours, not finishing the job, dust everywhere, tools everywhere, plastic everywhere, talking to me like I'm one of "the ladies", going into my frige for food, taking my privacy, taking my time, taking my sanity.

I'm done, get out!

He's supposed to finish the inside today. Of course, we all know that's not possible with the list I have if you show up at 3pm and work for an hour and a half. Also, his landscape crew is supposed to work today. They were supposed to come yesterday, but they were a no show. Surprise, surprise.

I'm at a full boil now after simmering for 2 months. I'm ready to blow!

Thursday, April 15, 2010

I Just Want To Cry

I'm exhausted. I'm cringing. There is a knot in my neck and shoulders. I have stomach cramps. I just had a bout of diarrhea (this blog is supposed to be honest, right?) I am PMSing. My OCD and IBS are both at maximum overdrive and yet, I'm trying not to show it. My skin is crawling. I'm having trouble breathing. I'm on the verge of tears. I just want to go to bed and wake up from these past two months like it was all a dream.

"Bonnie what are you bitching about. You're getting a new kitchen and master bath, right? It's all worth it so just stop complaining."

Clearly, you can't begin to fathom what it's like to live in my brain. The amount of self restraint I've had to muster these 8 weeks has been astounding. I have had to live in a dust-filled, plastic covered, tool strewn construction zone with no privacy and no happy place for over 60 days. You try having strangers in your house all day everyday, coming and going, dragging in dirt and bags of McDonalds for 1 week and let me know how that works out for you. Then do it from the perspective of someone who can't live in chaos without getting heart palpitations. And then do it for 2 months!!

But I did it! I had a meltdown at the end of week #4; my husband bore the brunt of that one. And I haven't had one until today. Tomorrow A is supposed to be done. He even gave himself a 2pm finish time. I'm looking at everything and I'm seeing another week of work. I can't live like this another 24 hours; I'm coming out of my skin!

Is it beautiful? Yes. Do I love it? Yes. Have there been any major problems? No. Would I do it again for another project? Not if I have to live in the house while it's happening. I'm not strong enough to do this twice.

I own the fact that this is all on me. No one is making me lose my mind. It's just that this situation plus my mental make-up equals crazy lady.

Thought I couldn't get any deeper into the freakout pool?... I've invited guests for dinner tomorrow night. That's right, tomorrow night! And friends for lunch next week. And why don't we top the whole thing off with my daughter's Communion Weekend next weekend where we're going to host our immediate, all out-of-state, family of 35, several of whom I'm already anticipating will be inspecting my kitchen's every detail and commenting (that's a whole other post). Am I subconsciously trying to commit suicide? Because that's certainly what it sounds like.

I'd pray for strength, but I don't have the strength to. Best part about paddling my wooden rowboat in a lava river is that I can't figure out how to fix it. That's always been my forte - problem solving. I'm the person to call if you need a fire put out and here I am with my oars on fire. Talk about losing it!

It's supposed to be over by tomorrow. But then there is the clean-up and man is there a lot to clean up. And let's not forget dinner for 7. Somebody pinch me. This has all been some sugar induced late-night panic attack and I need to wake up!

Excuse me... my stomach is hurting again.