August 2024 – Sweat & Sparkle

And Now…

I love this quote. It’s like it was written just for me and my husband, because this is exactly where we are right now.

Last month, we celebrated our wedding anniversary at a resort on the beach. As we sat together at the outdoor bar one evening, waves crashing in and out nearby, I sipped my drink, watched my husband a moment, and thought how amazingly far we have come.

We have leapt hurdles, climbed mountains, and battled like warriors simply to be together. We found each other in the middle of our own personal thunderstorms, both fresh out of the most toxic relationships of our lives. With each other, we found peace and learned to smile again.

And that was something that certain other people simply could not stand.

I could go on and on for volumes, describing all the assaults and attacks we survived over the years, and you would think I made up at least half of it. Who’s crazy enough–childish enough–to do all that? As soon as my husband’s ex, Psycho, found out that he wasn’t sobbing in a fetal position without her, and had in fact found happiness with someone better, she devoted every moment of her empty life to harassing, haranguing, and badgering us.

Despite her relentless efforts to push us apart, we moved closer to each other. Maybe because of that, actually. We had each other’s backs, supported each other, fought for each other. We navigated our relationship through an endless battlefield, yet we still enjoyed being with each other. That says so much.

We could have given up. We could have said “Enough” and walked away from each other, just to be left alone. I know that is what Psycho wanted and fully expected. If we ended it because we just weren’t right for each other, I could live with that. But I would be damned if we said good-bye because a vindictive cockroach didn’t want us together. Fuck her.

I still feel that way. And I’m glad we chose to focus on us instead of her hissing and slithering. We quickly learned to block her out and make our relationship about just us, no outsiders welcome.

Sitting at that beach bar with my husband, I thought about our many years in a cramped, teeny apartment, dreaming of a house of our own, a garden, a swing in a tree in the front yard. After all the struggles, all the battles, all the scratching and clawing, we deserve to stand at the top of that mountain now, with our arms around each other, proud, loved, happy.

What does Psycho have after 18 years of resentment, bitterness, and hostility? Exactly what she deserves: nothing and no one.

It’s beautifully ironic. My husband and I are still together, closer than ever, waking up in each other’s arms every morning, dreaming up new things to discover and places to explore together…while Psycho, after years of hatefully trying to bulldoze me away from him, is as unwanted as a scrap of trash, hurling herself at every guy that wanders by, desperately pleading for attention. It’s humorous, fitting, and nothing less than what the stringy-haired, horse-faced bitch deserves.

Oh, I’m sure someday she will manipulate some lonely idiot with no other prospects into dating her beyond a sloppy, disappointing one-night stand. And someday, quickly, when she tires of wearing her mask and can’t keep up with pretending to be even a slightly sane and reasonably decent human being, it will crumble like it always does into non-stop arguing, screaming, throwing things, accusing, cheating, and making his life unendurably miserable, which is the only thing at which she excels.

Psycho foolishly fantasizes that she can drive us apart, when she can’t even make herself like her. (Get real, her own mother didn’t like her.) She wouldn’t lie about herself so incessantly if she is proud of what she sees in the mirror.

Well, when her reflection is a worthless sow who has never stood on her own two feet; who has never independently provided the kids with anything; whose only accomplishment is collecting a plentiful array of mug shots, arrests, and felonies; who exploits and uses the children for her own selfish gratification; who goes home every day to a trailer as trashy, used up, and beggarly as she is, like a scavenging rat returning to its slovenly hole…well, then living a perpetual lie is actually an understandable alternative to facing her truth.

Ultimately, Psycho will never have what my husband and I have. When she isn’t lying to herself, she knows that is why she is obsessed with us and the reason she attacks us. If she can’t have it, why should we?

Because we work for it. We deserve it. We fight for it. We found it with each other when we least expected it, took a chance on it, and we treasure it, protect it, and hold onto it for dear life. And now, we intend, with every beat of our hearts, to enjoy each cherished moment of what we have built together to its absolute and triumphant fullest.

Don’t worry, Psycho. You can still watch jealously from the sidelines when you oh-so-sneakily use the kids’ Facebook accounts to stalk us and make yourself even more bitter by gorging on our happiness. What else are you possibly going to do while you rot in your shitty shack, spin more lies, steal more shit, creep your exes on social media, sprout more wrinkles, and futilely, frantically, and pathetically wish you were anyone but you?

Just What I Needed

When we decided we needed one more beach trip before this summer wraps up, we randomly picked an open weekend and booked our room. Little did I know that we chose the perfect weekend, because I sure needed it!

Work is so hectic right now, insanely busy, and I am in overdrive all day long just to keep my chin above the water. Just when I think I might actually get caught up, I am interrupted, or someone has a question.

I almost brought my laptop home with me. Almost. But I decided I desperately needed a break. My laptop and everything else work-related stayed right on my desk, where it could all wait until I got back.

My husband and I packed up and eagerly headed out. We didn’t even check into the inn first. We went straight to the beach. It looked like something from a postcard, with brilliant blue and emerald water, so clear at the shoreline that you could see shells scattered beneath the breaking waves.

As I floated deeper and deeper into the cool water, my toes barely touching the soft sand, all the stress and tension from the work week evaporated. We had the beach almost to ourselves, which was amazing to me. The weather was perfect. The water was amazing. I thought the beach would be packed. Well, so much the better for us!

Normally I prefer huge, crashing waves to jump around in, but the tranquil, calm water was perfect this past weekend. It was just what I needed. The gentle lull of soothing waves, the dazzling blue sky all around, fluffy clouds, my arms around my husband’s shoulders…I could have just about dozed off peacefully right there in the water.

We went out to dinner then came right back to stroll along the beach, look for shells, and watch the sunset. I love all the magnificent colors that light up the horizon just before the sun melts away. No matter how many times we have watched one, sunsets at the beach are mesmerizing.

I read a joke once that people who unpack as soon as they get home from a trip are serial killers. It made me laugh, because that is exactly what my husband and I do! We unzip our bags, put everything away, start a load of laundry with still-damp swimsuits and towels. We always clean before we head out of town, so we come home to a neat, tidy house and can just relax the rest of the day.

We went out for ice cream last night and just sat and chatted, talked about the beach, our next trip, the kids, anything that popped into our heads. We stayed up a bit too late, because we didn’t want our weekend to end, but alas, Monday mornings always roll around eventually, don’t they?

I fired up my laptop at work this morning but just wasn’t ready to dive in yet. I sorted my beach photos into a folder, scrolling them one more time with a smile. It’s time to get back to work now, but just for the record, my mind and my heart are still floating blissfully under the warm sun, cotton ball clouds, and ocean blue sky.

Back-to-School Tradition

Today is the first day of school around here. I told my husband it feels so odd for this day to hold no special significance for us anymore. For over 18 years, the first day of school has kicked off a flurry of activity: jotting schedules and events onto our calendars, juggling orientations and open houses for four kids, looking forward to football games, meeting new teachers.

The first day of school is still exciting, though, even with no kids heading back this year. Back-to-school is a time of new starts, a new year, change, anticipation.

At least, that’s how it feels for normal people. For Psycho, a new school year revolved around something far more important to her than the kids have ever been: herself! Why waste precious time pondering the kids’ new opportunities, learning, or any of that meaningless nonsense when it can be all about her?

Yep, a new school year was her trigger to swing into action. There was a fresh crop of un-brainwashed teachers, just waiting to hear the latest rendition of Psycho’s victim story and wondrous tall tales about me and the kids’ dad. There were school events to hide from us and warn the kids not to mention to us. There were tantrums to throw about me volunteering at the schools, because who would believe her asinine lies if I kept showing up in person and showing her up in the process?

Without fail, a new school year also meant trying to remove me from the kids’ online school accounts, because what kind of mother wants a stepmom who (*gasp*) monitors the kids’ grades and attendance? Well, not a mother who doesn’t care if the kids fail a grade or receive truancy letters, I can assure you from experience.

It’s become such a heartfelt new-school-year tradition! Awww, I almost miss it today.

Psycho never seemed to think about how it made her look, though, not to me and my husband (who already know she’s a useless heifer), but to the school staff who had to deal with her petty request. And since I had to talk to them each and every year, thanks to Psycho’s unwavering immaturity and jealousy, I know full well what they ended up thinking of her.

Last year, when my youngest stepdaughter started her senior year, I naively thought that just maybe, Psycho would give it a rest and let one school year go by without her idiotic display of envy and resentment. Nope, Psycho stuck to her bitter guns and once again lashed out with a request to delete me from my stepdaughter’s online account:

Hmmm, another denial. Go figure. Well, at least Psycho has that going for her these days: given that denials, dismissals, rebuffs, and turn-downs are her only constant bedfellows…she should be more than accustomed to rejection in all its glorious and much-deserved forms by now.

Happy first day of school!

Pancakes and Dancing

Maybe not at 2 AM, since that’s a bit early for me, but this is going to be a date morning for us this weekend. We already bought everything to make pancakes together, and I’ve been looking forward to it ever since.

I’m about 10 minutes away from shutting down my work laptop and escaping to my car to finally head home to start our weekend. It’s been a busy but productive week, and I am so ready for a much-needed break…and morning pancakes and dancing!