Another day, another boring blog post.

Lately I've been feeling frustrated in general. My husband's ex-wife is crazy (literally, as in been in the mental ward multiple times in the past few years, on and off her meds) for those of you not in the know, and there is supposed to be a trial next month about their kids. We had a social worker/guardian ad litem do a home study and say that she (biomom) shouldn't have visitation overnight for a number of reasons. Current visitation is 8 hours twice a month, which should not be enough for this woman to screw up her kids but unfortunately it is. There are several very serious reasons why this can't happen, but in the interest of my kids' privacy I'm not going to blog them. Suffice to say, it was bad, real bad.

This has been going on for 5 years, and if we added up the legal bills I am sure the number would be astronomical. Our attorney advised we needed to pay $2000 for his entire day to have him go with us to trial. We obviously, between not receiving ANY child support from the idiot biomom and raising up two kids, don't have a spare $2K just sitting around. So I don't know what's going to happen.

There has to be some other way to deal with this situation, and not just let biomom WIN (her mother, her chief enabler, pays for her legal bills and is the main problem in this situation). Not being able to control/fix this situation (because I do realize that my insatiable need to fix things and take care of things/people is in fact my need for control) is the most frustrating thing I can think of.

The ball is in my husband's court, so to speak, and I struggle with wanting to grab the ball and pitch it myself, when I know it's important that I let him advocate for his children without my interference. Even if I think I could fight the fight better.

The amount of stress this woman puts on our household is astronomical - 99% of every argument hubby and I have ever had has something to do with her. 99% of all money woes ever are directly related to her. She doesn't deserve this amount of control over our lives, and I am not sure how to disconnect from the situation any more to save my sanity without literally sacrificing my stepkids in the process. And I don't see them as my stepkids, I see them as my KIDS, and the feeling is very mutual - they picked me before Dave picked me.

Mostly I just feel powerless. And really worried for them. Our son is really struggling with middle school (first year) like I knew he would, and the kid is clinically depressed. Doctor visits, and counseling visits, and punishments, and meds, and hugs, and long talks, nothing seems to reach the kid right now. And it breaks my heart because it's like looking into a mirror when I was 11 and seeing my face, my face as I just wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. I'm not going to give up on him EVER but I just don't know how to fix this. And I am the girl that knows how to fix everything.

Wow...

So there's a blog that I read that I found through the Huffington Post called Channeling Erik. It's written by a mom who lost her son Erik, to suicide, and she says that she is communicating with him from the other side, mostly with the help of mediums. For what it's worth, I believe her.

Part of this blog is writers write in and ask Erik for information about their family who has passed, or their spirit guides or that sort of thing.

There was a post there that just kicked me upside the head - a reader had asked if her sister, with early onset dementia, knew what was happening to her, and why it was happening:

"Me: Okay. Is this her destiny to have this problem?
Erik: Yes, to be humble enough to ask for help."

WOW. So this hit me like a ton of bricks, and for the first time I feel like I might understand why God would put someone through this, someone like my Dad. Who was not humble in the least.

The blog is here:

http://www.channelingerik.com/ask-erik-cheryls-questions/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ChannelingErik+%28Channeling+Erik%29

Coco Chanel.

Those of you that know me outside of internetland (and many of you that only know me in that manner) know that I am absolutely obsessed with Chanel, Coco Chanel and vintage Chanel in particular.

The other day someone asked me, 'Why?' It's just a cute bag. Well, yes, the 2.55 Quilted Handbag is an amazingly beautiful piece of wearable art. But it's got so much history behind it. And the bag represents the Chanel history, which always makes me feel like a million bucks. And here, briefly, is why.

Gabrielle Chanel was born in August 1883, she had 5 siblings and her mother died when she was 12 and her father left the family. Gabrielle was sent to an orphanage, where she initially learned to sew. The nuns at the orphanage had long chains that held their keys, and she was fascinated by these chains. These chains are the inspiration for the chain handle on the famous 2.55 handbag.

When she turned 18 and left the orphanage, she decided to become a cabernet singer. It was here that she obtained the nickname "Coco", a shortened version of "Coquette." Coco then began a series of love affairs as a mistress to several men - the most important being Arthur "Boy" Capel. She was not fond of the huge hats that women were wearing, so she began to invent smaller boater hats, and they became popular in France as a show of women's liberation.

In 1910 Coco opened her first shop, financed by Capel. Soon she began designing clothing that was much different than the clothing of the time. She created loose, casual clothes out of soft jersey that up until this point was only used for men's underwear. She shunned corsets (which was scandalous at the time) and modeled her designs after menswear. Because of Coco Chanel we have:

• Pants for women as acceptable attire - yep, hard to believe this didn't exist before Coco, but they didn't.
• Pajamas for women (as opposed to nightgowns).
• Swimming suits for women (they were very modest, but she was the first!) It was SCANDALOUS for women to be seen in the water at the beach.
• Bell bottoms (she was vacationing in Venice and having trouble getting in and out of gondolas - these pants were her solution).
• Chanel No. 5 - the first perfume to use synthetic ingredients, and the first designer fragrance.
• The famous Chanel "box" suit - weighted with chains to hang just right.
• That amazing 2.55 flap bag - the first handbag to be able to be carried on the shoulder. It has a secret pocket for storing love letters, the quilting has roots in stable boys clothing, and she insisted on having the lining of the bag be as beautiful as the outside. The bag was released in February 1955, hence the name 2.55. Coco's original design still exists, as well as several variations designed by Chanel's Karl Lagerfeld.
• Sun tanning - she was the first to be tan on purpose. Previously it was seen as a sign of poverty, as pale skin was a sign of not having to work outside.
• Jackie Kennedy's iconic pink suit worn on the day that JFK was assassinated? Chanel.

Arthur Capel was said to be the love of her life, and he died tragically in an auto accident, and Coco was devastated. She had several more passionate long standing affairs in her lifetime, but she never married. She never had children. She survived WWII (having been shunned for an affair with a Nazi officer) and rebuilt her business in the 1960's. She was never apologetic over her money, affairs, lifestyle choices. I may not agree with everything she did, but she was authentic to herself. She was a perfectionist when it came to her empire and she worked hard up until the day she died at age 87. She was a feminist while remaining feminine and unique. She came from nothing and created everything.

She lived her life on her terms and has a legacy that stands through today. And that, my friends, is why Coco Chanel is one of my heroes.

August.

August is almost over, hard to believe.

I love, love, LOVE my new job. And I am damn good at it. I've gotten kudos from my boss on several things I've done, and everyone in my department is so supportive and welcoming. I feel like I've been let out of a cage. I'm planning on kicking butt at bonus time, and using that $$ to get myself something completely awesome and extravagant as a celebration of my success. I am greatly enjoying the interaction with people on the phone, and the privacy of my own office. Aside from the getting up part (hahah) I love coming to work.

I'm exhausted all the time, as besides my current duties, I am helping my replacement get up to speed in my past Hell job. There just aren't enough hours in the day for me to get all done. She's very overwhelmed, and I'm trying to reassure her it will get better. Even though psychoboss isn't her immediate boss, she's having to take direction from her and work with her, and it's frustrating her already. I am trying my best to tell her it will get better, but the secret part of me almost wants her to bail, as then I'll just be that more validated that I stuck it out for two frigging years. That's kind of petty though. Although I do very much feel that they took me for granted, and wonder if things will get to the level that they were when I left. I don't think they have a clue how much I actually did.

I've been feeling ok in general. It dawned on me that next month is my birthday, and my dad's birthday is 3 days before it. We generally tried to celebrate together, especially in the last few years when we were physically together. I am imagining that it will be tough. Very tough. I'm hoping for distraction.

I'm to the point now where I can see photos of him and it doesn't make me sad, it makes me smile, just a twinge of hurt inside that photographs and memories are what's left. I still think about him every day, multiple times, and sometimes I swear I can "feel" him. That makes me joyous, and tear up at the same time. I worry about losing the connection. I lost him once when I was a kid, once when he passed, and I'm holding on tight to whatever I have left.

Madison is growing like crazy. It makes me happy, as our good care of our furbaby has resulted in that, but part of me wishes she was a baby forever. I am so attached to that little girl. I am attached to ALL of my furbabies, but the timing of her has really bonded me to her on a different level. She is an amazingly funny little cat.

Ups and Downs

I don't have anything important to say, but I'm in the mood to write a little bit.

I'm still having good days and bad days. At least the nightmares have stopped.

Right after dad died I kept dreaming he needed help and I kept failing him. One dream involved robbers breaking into his home and throwing him to the floor violently, and I wasn't able to catch his head before it cracked on the ground and he bled on me. Awful stuff. So none of those for a couple of weeks is a very good thing.

I just feel really isolated, and frustrated, almost angry. Angry with everything. I'm not a patient person by nature, and this life I've led has been one massive exercise in patience. I believe that is my purpose here, to learn patience. Taking care of a man who was slowly deteriorating, and who frankly was a pain in the ass when he was well, was the crowning jewel. Well, that and stepparenthood.

I've been reading a lot. Reading and playing with the kitten are my biggest two escapes. I feel lonely a lot, even when there's tons of people around. I want to be alone and I don't want to be alone at the same time. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

There has been no crying lately. Just quiet. I don't feel like talking much. I just am trying to "be".

I have still been corresponding with my dad's cousin. He and my dad were close growing up, like brothers (Dad was also an only child). I kept him in the loop of his illness and we email frequently. I've never met the man, but he has the same kind of dry wit that my dad had, so it's like that little piece is left. He and I were the only family dad had at the end. (And yes, that was his own fault.) So we are the last two people standing, so to speak, and I think that's why we have connected like we have. There's over 40 years between us, yet we connect.

I did get a new job. New job, same corporation. I'm relieved beyond belief, as my immediate boss is totally psycho. Condescending, hard to communicate with, moody, always unhappy. It's like a black cloud over you. It got to the point where I dreaded meetings with her, and felt myself getting ready to blow up. I was ready to quit some time ago, but she got breast cancer. I didn't feel right leaving my department high and dry when she was sick, so I stuck it out. Then this other internal position opened, so it was obviously meant to be. It's more of a sales oriented job, so it will be very different from the behind the scenes marketing I've been doing for the past 2 years. There will be travel at times, which I am looking forward to. An office with a window, quarterly bonuses, all those little perks. I should be more excited than I am, but few things excite me right now.

I also did recommit to a 100% vegetarian diet. I have lost 6 pounds in under two weeks, and aside from the weight loss (which is so needed - ugh) I feel "right" again. I feel much more in balance. I always ate meat sparingly, but this feels better. This feels like me again.

I was loosely compiling essays etc into a book called "My Father's Daughter." Now stupid Gwenyth Paltrow (ok, she's not stupid, I'm just bitter haha) has come out with a book called that. I'd been calling the "project" that for so long that now I haven't the foggiest how to continue. I initially started it because I was a single 20-something caring for a parent with Dementia. I had to figure it all out on my own - none of my friends had gone through it as their parents weren't so much older then they. I wished I would have known someone to bounce ideas off of.

Which reminds me of another thing - I have volunteered to start a Lewy Body Dementia support group. I haven't finished the paperwork yet (been lazy and no energy) but it would be a once a month commitment. I think this may be a way that I can honor my father and help people out. God knows I went through just about the entire spectrum of dementia with him, everything from misdiagnosis to the VA Health System, to researching all the meds, Medicaid, Medicare etc. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. So maybe I can help someone not feel as isolated as I did throughout the process. I just need to suck it up and commit already.

I am in love.

Meet Maddie.

Under 2 lbs of fuzzy cuteness. Cuddling her, playing with her, even getting up and making her food in the middle of the night (she has to be fed every 4 hours right now, because she's so teeny) makes my heart feel like it's going to burst.

I am sure it's a different experience to those who have actually experienced it, but this is what I imagine having a baby is like. I imagine this as I will never have the opportunity to have a human baby, which bothers me more some days than other days... but the pure, heavy, unconditional love that I feel for this little girl when she crawls into the crook of my neck and falls asleep or even when she smears poop all over the floor in valiant attempts at the litter box just makes me feel AMAZING.

I L O V E her. HARD. So hard. Already. (It's been 2 days with her).

She is exactly what I needed right now. EXACTLY. Things have not been good for me. In me, whatever. She helps.

She helps me remember what it's like to feel happy, to feel like I have purpose, to feel love, why life is worth it, even the yucky parts, like saying goodbye to those that have passed. It's all worth it, because little miracles like Maddie are out there, just waiting for me to discover them.

Beautiful.

Last Saturday David and I went out to Rockaway Beach to give dad a burial at sea.

On the way down we saw 6 hawks (Dad always pointed out Hawks when we were in the car - sometimes after hours of silence - lol, thank you "vacation dad") and tons of other various birds.

The weather was perfect. The beach was uncrowded. The sunset was... well... you see. :) Beautiful.

Dave and I went out on the beach at low tide, dug a trench, scooped Dad in and watched him go out to sea with the waves when the tide came in. We collected various beach rocks for our (in progress) Zen Garden and we found one perfect, beautiful cockle shell.

We then went out to dinner, and I had Prime Rib - his favorite dish. I couldn't order it rare like he did though.

I slept like a rock. And have slept better since.

I haven't had a crying spell since Dad went out to sea. I understand, for the first time, why funerals or similar ceremonies exist - for closure.

Of course I still miss him. But at that beach, I felt it - it's all good. He's ok. For the first time in a long time.