Easter 2016: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Easter was a complete roller coaster this year. We had good times, bad times and more.

It was basically a 3-day event since my husband took Friday off and my daughter was home from school. We started with a nice little tour of our local PD with the Girl Scouts and then went on to run a couple errands. I did some work and the hubby went to get parts to his beehive.

Saturday we hit the town’s Easter Egg hunt. They did a great job organizing and it was incredibly streamlined. We hardly had to wait in line at all and the kids had a blast. Best of all, it was free! A few more errands after that and we spent the night cleaning to get ready for the morning.

Sunday was Easter. The kids got up and found eggs, got their baskets and had a good time. My parents came over for “dinner” at noon. We had the standard ham dinner. After that the sun came out so we did a second egg hunt outside and basically had a “deck day”.

Then my mom started talking about my son’s birthday. Specifically a party. I got to tell her we’re not doing one. She wanted to know why, so I told her – because none of the grandparents get along or like each other. It’s better for us to just do something as a family than to spend time and money getting ready to have a party, have people invade spaces they shouldn’t (like our bedroom) and break stuff, then complain for 3 weeks about each other’s behavior. No thanks!

She wasn’t thrilled and invited herself along on whatever we wind up doing as a family.

After my parents left, my husband’s mother called… and texted… She said they “missed us” at her Easter gathering the day before and she wanted to know if we would go to her house for an egg hunt and brunch the following weekend.

Nope. We have 2 weeks to go until our road trip to *hopefully* find a new place to live and I don’t have the time nor the inclination to spend it at her house. She’s a good portion of the reason we want to leave. She had so many opportunities to say something to my BIL’s wife about her behavior and she never did. She always put the burden on my family. We’re older, we should just move on and act like she didn’t say or do anything.


Does that make us childish? Maybe. But I’m sick of attending functions where you have to walk on eggshells because even the most innocuous of opinions can set the twat off on a psychotic rampage. Seriously, you could say, “Wow, I didn’t know it was supposed to rain today!” and she would take it personally. Block your phone number, refuse to speak to you and tell her kids that you and your husband aren’t related to them.

Which we really may not be since she’s rather promiscuous, but that’s another story.

Anyway, long story short my husband didn’t take her call and didn’t respond to her text. He doesn’t want to speak to her before we go and figure out if our destination is where we are meant to go.

How was your Easter?!


Southbound: My Inner Nomad Grows Restless

My mom always told me that I had Gypsy blood in me. I guess she was right. It seems like I’m the most unsettled person ever and the need to move becomes this overwhelming, consuming force in my life. I don’t just mean move down the street – I mean pack up and start over somewhere entirely different.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Three out of my 4 grandparents were immigrants. (The legal type, friends!) My 1 American-born grandparent moved almost as much as a military wife, but without the enlisted husband.

The first time the moving bug hit me I was about 15. I had friends at school, but none that were really close. No best friends. I would flit between social groups, never really finding my place. My passion. I never really felt like THERE was where I was meant to be.

So when my dad wanted to move home – home being over 3,000 miles away – I was thrilled. I had planned to go to college on the East Coast anyway. We moved about a year later. I was the new kid just in time for my senior year of high school, which really wasn’t as bad as it sounds. I missed out on some things, like sports, but that’s about it.

After that, I went off to college. That was a big change from living with my parents. I made some great friends and even met my husband. Those 4 years flew by. I graduated and was engaged. We moved into an apartment together about 2 1/2 hours from my parents… but unfortunately we also lived about an hour from our closest friends from school.

A year later we bought a horrible little house. I hated it. My husband liked the land. He won since we either had to buy or sign another year-long lease at a much higher rate. We’ve added onto the house, but we’re still here. We’re not quite upside down, but 8 years later we won’t be making much if we sell it after all of the fees and things are paid off. We made some really financially stupid decisions in this house and outgrew it quickly by adding 3 kids to the family.

So now we are in a 3 bedroom (it started as 2), 2 bath house with 5 people. The house itself isn’t huge. The yard is, which helps in the summer, but in the winter when the snow piles up it’s the most depressing place on earth. I work from home and it’s like the walls just close in on me. I hate snow. I hate, hate, hate it. It’s cold. It gets in the way. It’s hard to drive in. It’s everything bad about nature rolled into 1 little fluffy cloud. It looks pretty as it falls, but when it lingers and blackens you can almost feel the depression coming on.

I’ve been in New England for 14 years. My inner nomad is SCREAMING at me to leave. My parents are moving to Florida to retire soon and even though I have my own family and only see my parents about once a month, I feel like I’m being abandoned. I feel like they’re leaving me in this horrible place to slowly die as my in-laws suck the life out of me.

I don’t know if I’d feel differently about New England if I had better in-laws. If I had a support system here. If I felt like there was anyone in this God forsaken corner of the country that had an ounce of decency. I’m sure there are nice people here, I just think they are much outnumbered by the not so wonderful ones.

So my inner nomad is calling me to move south. Not to follow my parents, but to find my own place in this world. My own place where the weather is better, the people are nicer and my in-laws dare not visit. Somewhere too far for the judgmental sighs of my mother-in-law and the crazy bipolar antics of my sister-in-law.

Fortunately, my husband is on board. He sees how his family is. He is willing to entertain the idea of leaving New England for the first time in his life.

So we’re going on a road trip! We’re hoping for an a-ha moment where we find a town we love and want to move to. Or at least an area. Something, a sign. Anything really.

It’s an exciting adventure, but I’m anxious to see how it goes. I hope we have our moment. If we don’t, I don’t know where we will be. Limbo, I guess. We both hate it here. We both want out. Neither of us know where to go. My husband likes the idea of Texas, but I hate it. (Too hot and too many scary deadly bugs and snakes.) Only time will tell!

Did Somebody Say Coffee?

TODAY IS THE DAY! My new coffee maker arrived this afternoon and I could NOT be more excited! After over a week of dealing with a leaky pot (yes, things escalated quickly from not keeping time to out and out leaking), I finally got a new coffee maker. The wait was rough, but completely worth it since I have about $0 extra this month to spend on a coffee maker.

Hats off to Black and Decker for making this happen. My groggy morning self (and probably my children) thank you! I can’t wait to set the auto brew and wake up to fresh, hot, life-giving coffee tomorrow. Way to start the weekend off right!

Yep, Still Bitter

It has been over a year since we’ve seen my brother-in-law and his nasty little wife. Most days I don’t think about them or their issues, but today isn’t one of those days.

In case you aren’t following, my BIL’s wife has some type of mental condition whereby she can’t function in proper society and doesn’t take accountability for her own actions. They have pills for that crazy bullshit, but she’s continuously getting pregnant (Lord, I hope it’s not genetic), so she can’t take the pills. Everyone in the family except for us excuses her behavior because she “can’t help it”. We’ll ignore the fact that someone with such severe mental ailments probably shouldn’t have a gaggle of children.

Anyway, back to the point, last weekend my brother-in-law reached out to my husband and invited him to his birthday party. Yes, apparently grown ass men do have non-milestone birthday parties. Cute, no?

During the awkward and unexpected invitational message, he did not address the whole blocking us for the past 14+ months thing. Or the not telling us about their latest child thing. Or the conveniently commanding the entire family to not tell us baby #4’s name. Nothing. He just acted as if they were old friends that hadn’t seen each other in a while because of some oversight. Haven’t heard from you in a while. That’s what he had the balls to say. HELLO EINSTEIN – YOU CAN’T HEAR FROM SOMEONE WHEN YOU’RE BLOCKING THEM AND DEMANDING NOBODY TELL THEM ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR WHEREABOUTS, FAMILY STATUS, ETC.

Points to me though – I totally called it. My husband saw his name on caller ID and was hopeful that his brother had called to address the situation from the last year+. I said no, he’s probably inviting you to his birthday so he can get a gift.

Normally it feels good to be right. This time it was just sad.