In my 32 years, I’ve never been directly in a car accident. I once hit a parked car (I know, I know) and the guy was super nice about it. I remember being in a minor accident in high school as a freshman with a senior driving and a car full of girls, but nothing that required the amount of work that went into today. After an hour on the phone with my insurance company, a trip to the body shop that made me wince, and a call to the rental company, a smiling man came to pick me up and get me to sign paperwork that said I’d be in one of their sleek vehicles for four days while my beloved Betty (my Honda) would get some much needed TLC at the body shop.

The sweet boy at the rental company turned on his charm and asked if I’d like a free upgrade. I just shrugged and said, “Oh, that’s ok. Whatever you’ve got me in is fine as long as it’ll drive. I’m really, really low maintenance” You’d have thought I’d told him he was going to jail. His face fell and he said, “No, no, no. You are supposed to be excited that I am putting you in a sweet little volvo for the next few days.” Having never driven a volvo, I suppose I missed the treat this was supposed to be so I missed the chance to make my rental agent happy.

As I slid behind the steering wheel and adjusted the seat I simply couldn’t wait to get home.

Then I started driving the car.

I’ve found my next car. Wow, that thing is smooth and no Volvo isn’t paying me to say this and clearly they aren’t giving me a freebie. When Betty dies in 5-6 years, I’m getting one of these. Probably very used, but it’s going to be worth it. The thought makes my sore back and jittery nerves just a little bit better.

Lately, for at least two hours a day, I have studied for a test that is coming up next weekend. So, instead of letting him do other things, I asked AJ to come to the library with me and read a book that he has enjoyed in recent weeks. Generally, this would provoke whining and upset, but because of the melancholic timbre of the summer this very peculiar year, he has been delighted to sit in the cool, quiet alcove of the well-lit library on their comfortable leather couches and soak in the atmosphere of the library. When he heard we would not be going yesterday, because it was Saturday and they’d be closing early, he was disappointed that he would not finish his book in the calm demeanor he’d become accustomed.

I have not lavishly spoiled him to make up for the loss of a summer of fun. AJ isn’t entitled to a summer of fun just for being a kid. There are parents that will disagree with me on that statement, but the truth of the matter is that no one is entitled to anything other than safety, love, a full belly and a warm/cool place to sleep. I give my child all of those things, lots of attention and affection, plenty of cool gadgets and he does get to do fun things, but he doesn’t go on lavish vacations and we don’t spend a lot of money making sure every single day overstimulates him to the point where I no longer like who he is as a person. When I meet a parent who does, I often find it difficult to be friendly with both the parent and the child because of the expectations they have as to how people will treat them; Rather, how they feel they are entitled to be treated.

Besides studying yesterday, I planned a small outing to the Nashville Farmer’s Market. I’d never been and AJ and I had gone to the adorable one near our house the other day. He’d studied a pattypan squash and liked it because it looked like a UFO. He’d picked up several other vegetables that I could not identify, to his amusement and to my dismay. I thought that, perhaps, a trip to the market where he could look to his heart’s delight and I could learn about the vegetables might be fun for both of us. They also had a flea market and AJ loves to look at trinkets. Garage sales may be his favorite events on earth.

When we got there, I handed AJ the $6 he’d earned by doing chores every day this week and told him that he could spend it, but carefully and not on junk. Immediately, he focused on a large adults watch with a disastrous amount of bling and a large money sign on it. It was a glowing green color and also came with a large $$ necklace. I bit my lip and hoped that it would be too expensive. Despite my better judgment, I told him he could not ask how much it was and pulled him away from the bling ensemble. As we continued to walk around, he found another necklace he desperately wanted. It was hematite, shiny, and looked like it had a shark’s tooth attached to it. It was gaudy and awful and I knew he wanted it more than anything. Again, against my better judgment, I told him he could not ask how much it was.

My inability to understand his want of shiny, blingy jewelry was too much. His jaw set, he marched ahead of me to the food market and the day was ruined. The shark necklace might have been $2. We continued to argue about it for the next hour. As I picked up tomatoes, peaches, cucumbers and oranges, I thought to myself and wondered if the argument was truly worth it. The money was his and while I knew he’d be happy when he’d saved enough to buy a larger toy, AJ is 10 years old. He wants immediate gratification despite the costs. Even though I’d explained that I did what I thought was best, was it worth the cost? Was the loss of that necklace worth the upset between us and the upset of our day together? The event was planned to offset some of the negativity of the summer. Surely, if he wanted a $2 necklace that he was going to buy with his own money, it wasn’t worth this.

I made a mistake. Adults do it. We decide we know what’s best and we hold firm to in the idea of good parenting practices. Usually, in this vein, we are correct in what we are doing and it is better for our children. However, “don’t sweat the small stuff” is a cliche for a reason, as are all cliches. In this case, my not giving in hurt AJ’s decision-making process and our camaraderie for the day. In the big scheme of things, was that necklace important? To me, it wasn’t. To him, it was. To us, it was. Giving in would have made the difference in how he felt about our time together. We had a large discussion about how material things should not affect our time together and how arguments do. Ultimately, I think we both learned a lot.

Next time, I’ll do better. A small thing is a small thing and day-ruining arguments are best saved for the things that really matter.

It came to a head today when I looked at the happy meal I’d purchased for lunch and squinted at it while thinking, “You’d better do what you say you do.”

Placing my hopes on that happy meal to make my day go better was an irrational thought, but, at the time, it was something under my control. At this juncture, there are many things outside of my control that directly affect my future and frustrating isn’t the word for how that feels to me. What this also tells me is that I need to spend some time relaxing, once I do take this test and get it finished.

I tried to re-write the last part of this post about 30 times. Nothing felt authentic or right. So, I’ll just say that this summer has been “no fun” and I long for the days that I enjoyed my summer days. I long for the days not so long ago that I had motivation and time to write in my blog or things to write about other than how busy I am studying or working. For now, it is my life. Not always and not forever.

As a child, I never realized how important those little routines were to me, although the adults around me must have, being that I likely threw a fit when I didn’t have my routines on a daily basis. As a child, you only know that you want what you want and you don’t always know why. Sometimes I feel that way as an adult as well. I want what I want and I don’t know why.

Routine is still important to my well-being and I still find myself using my routine as a measure of comfort. The days that I step off of my routine I find myself feeling out of sorts and irritable and “jack and jill” and “humpty dumpty” may start running through my head as I pull in deep breaths and try to clear my mind. Today is one of those days. Exercise has become part of my daily routine and I never thought I’d say that. Today, however, I woke up still exhausted. It happens about one or two days a month that I wake up still tired enough to go straight back to bed. I’m guessing it’s a chemical flux and that it’s my body’s way of telling me to take a day to relax.

Regardless of what I want on those days, I have no choice. I’m so fatigued that my routine is out the window. I’m used to it on my chronic pain/migraine days, but on the sheer fatigue days, I cannot resolve myself because I want what I want when I want it. Spoiled and childish, to be sure, but it’s my ROUTINE. It’s what calms me. And today, I can’t have it.

Often, he’d walk up to me and proffer the flowers for his “amazing, wonderful mama,” but lately the flowers had been for our turtle, Petey. He’d recently discovered that flowers were a delicacy for Petey and the more fragrant the flower the more Petey would tear into it with relish. Petey tended towards a grumpy nature and would rarely open his eyes for anything more than what appeared to be a piratey “Argh” when he was prodded, so to see him come out of his shell, literally, to eat that flower with gusto was a sight for AJ to behold. We’d stand around Petey’s pen and watch him eat and imagine that the flowers put him in a better mood.

Last night, though, I’d been at my friend Bryan’s house until late. When I came home, I immediately checked in on Petey, as I do frequently throughout the day. I noticed that he was splayed in a fashion that was unnatural to him and picked him up to check on him. When he didn’t open his eyes to glare at me, it occurred to me that something was terribly wrong. His little limbs didn’t move and prodding him didn’t change his posture. Petey was gone.

Lately he’d been lethargic and I’d attributed it to the changing seasons. I’d taken him outside a couple of days earlier for some sunshine and even that time in the sun and shade hadn’t perked him up. His shell had become flimsy and, after looking at some information online, it became apparent to me that he’d had a disease that we hadn’t caught. Because AJ was sleeping, and Petey couldn’t stay in the cage like that, he was laid to rest in the creek behind the house. I didn’t want AJ to wake up without his turtle and not know why, so I woke him up and gently told him the news. He checked on Petey often and had I not told him, he would have been startled to not find him.

He was confused, but I thought he understood what I was telling him. I was wrong.

Oh, my sweet boy. My sensitive child.

When he took Sophie for a walk this afternoon and brought home that pink flower with the biggest grin he could muster, I never once considered Petey. He walked up to the fireplace mantle, where we kept Petey’s cage, looked at me and arched his eyebrow slightly.

“Mom, where did you put Petey?”

Oh no.

I explained to him that I’d told him last night that Petey had passed away. The most terrible look crossed his face and I will not forget his words. “But, what will I do with this flower now? I brought it home for him to eat. He loves flowers.”

I was at a loss, but told him to put it in a bowl and put it on Petey’s spot on the mantle. He did and silently went to the couch where he looked at it for a moment and his face crumbled. He was upset that he didn’t get to say goodbye so we went down to the creek and he placed the flower in it and said his goodbyes. He’s understandably confused about why turtles have to die and what happens to turtles when they die and whether or not he will see his turtle friend again.

Ultimately, I think the main question we face when we lose someone we love is did we love them enough? Did they feel our love? Did they know what they meant to us? In this case, did this turtle know he was a beloved turtle to a 10-year old boy who loved his grumpy little face enough to face punishment for stealing the neighbors flowers on a regular basis so that turtle could have a delicious treat? Because, after all, we make sacrifices for those we love. Make no mistake, that turtle was loved. But did he know it?

It may seem a little ridiculous to wonder if a turtle felt loved or not, but it doesn’t feel ridiculous to me nor does it feel ridiculous to AJ. Everyday, Petey was part of our day and he made our lives better. Many people I know are grieving right now and I see the questions in their face as to whether or not the person or thing they are grieving felt their love or knew what was given for that relationship.

We all want to feel loved. I wonder if any of us know the true extent of how much we really are adored? If this turtle was enough to break an adult and a child, how much more so are we to those around us?

RIP little one

Honestly, I rarely go to your store for a cornucopia of delightful reasons. The main reason being that when I go into the store I come out feeling musty and dusty and like I need to take a shower. While you may have a more varied selection than my preferred store, Target, I’ve noticed that some products look like someone has run them over with a Hummer and that they have been opened, sampled and then put back like I won’t notice that someone else has taken a huge bite out of the Doritos I plan to purchase. Consequently, I no longer purchase Doritos, but I will talk about that in a later post.

In any case, I frequent your store in two circumstances: when I’m in a city, like my hometown, that does not have a Target, or when the item I need is not one that Target, Best Buy or any other store in the whole world (the whole world being a 15-20 mile driving distance) sells. In this case, I was looking for a 16G Zune player. This was necessary being that I was overly zealous on the treadmill the other day and whacked my rhapsody player off the treadmill deck and sent it spiraling to the belt where it promptly went zinging to the back of the treadmill and skidded 5-feet across the gym floor. It inadvertently almost knocked a boy off the elliptical behind me because he was laughing so hard he couldn’t stay upright. I realized it was unusable when it popped open in my hand. After trying other rhapsody players from my beloved Target, I gave up.

Wal-mart online showed me a Zune player that was $30 less than Best Buy. By this time, I’m already crabby because I haven’t worked out in 24 hours and I am kind of wishing I’d pushed the boy off of the elliptical machine. I got to Wal-Mart and, lo and behold, they have the Zune in stock. For $30 more than they advertised online. This isn’t new. Wal-Mart frequently discounts their items on their online store and charges more for their items in-store. So, to get something that is IN STOCK, I get to pay $30? Pass. I’ll go to Best Buy where I get a clean store, great customer service, a Best Buy rewards system and can use my $5 certificate for my rewards and where that same player will count towards MORE rewards. Oh, and hey, where BEST BUY won’t UNDERCUT ITSELF online. I’ve heard stories about Wal-Mart doing this with various products and refusing to honor the prices in their stores. If I wanted to wait five days, I could get Amazon free shipping. Or, better yet, use Amazon.com and get prime shipping or one day shipping and pay $30 less than both Wal-Mart & Best Buy.

What I know is this: I won’t be using Wal-Mart. And their policy of not meeting their own prices? Bull. This isn’t a franchise. This is a corporation. All the money goes to the same place. Enough is enough. I walked out today even though I really wanted that player and I had spent time, gas and money going there.

Places that continue to give me good service, Target, Best Buy, Amazon, the little stores around here? They’ll continue to get my cash. Keep up the good work, Wal-Mart. You make it easy not to give you my money.

Sincerely,

Because I’m a girl and a good cry from joy can make me happier than anything. And I’m ok with being a wuss.

When I don’t know that anything is coming to my post office box, I check it less frequently. Honestly, I don’t need Hardees coupons or local flyers. When I opened my box this week, I had a gift. It was a slip of an envelope that had Kurt Halsey’s name on it.

One of my first blogs, in a much different time of my life, was about a custom Kurt Halsey piece that Leon had commissioned for me for Christmas. I love his work and lately had been longing for something that represented where I feel I am now.

I mentioned in my twitter that I was wishing for the postcards of his most recent works. I had no idea what I’d do with them, but I would find something creative. In my mailbox this week were these.

Thank you, mystery gifter. You have no idea what kind of week I’ve had and what they meant. Kurt included a couple of handwritten post its that made me weepy.

And I cried.

Like the little wuss I am.

And I loved it.

I spent some time this evening reflecting and pushing myself out of my comfort zone and letting myself talk to others and be myself again and what I realized is that my struggle is not singular. If I’m having a bad weekend, someone else reading this is struggling as well. I want you to know that even if your heart is breaking, your body is aching, your mind feels lost and you feel fragile…you are not alone and someone cares deeply for you. The things that happen are hard and heart-breaking and stunning, but they are not the end for you.

Continue to grow and love and move forward. I’m going to try to do the same along with you.

Lately, I’ve had a lot of time to think and what I think is that being kind is underrated. The simple things in day to day life are making or breaking me the last couple of weeks and a nice word or gesture is really all it takes to salvage a day.

What I’ve also realized is that the little things in life that make a person miserable aren’t worth it and if something is toxic that it needs to be cut out like a boil. If you constantly find yourself feeling a certain way about a certain thing, a certain idea, or a certain person that makes you feel bad or unhappy, then, as painful as that is, sometimes you have to let go. Especially if you feel like you can’t confront the feeling head-on or support the person as they are.

But mainly, kindness is really really important. And if someone isn’t kind to you in your darkest of moments, move on. And when a gas company is, support them.

Frankly, I knew it was coming. I’ve been a bad girl and I was due. When it came, it came and hit me horribly. Without going into all the details, life came crashing down and the effects are long-lasting and hard. Sickness and horror upon friends and acquaintances, hard times, school frustration, you name it. The business of life has been quite a lot to bear lately.

However, I’ve taken my licks like a woman and not a child and I think that I have just about had enough. Tonight, we’re in the black, karma. In. the. black.

I just went to take a shower. I was stank. Truly. My hair was greasy. I have been inside with the dogs all day due to snow and I just needed to feel clean. I leave tomorrow for a conference and if I don’t shower tonight, my long, thick, wavy hair will never dry in time for me to make my flight. It’s why I take my showers at night unless I want to have a bad 80s perm all day.

After making my way upstairs, I gathered my pajamas and went to the bathroom where I noticed that one of my two major sources of light was out. This wouldn’t be a problem but I needed to shave my legs. I know this is too much information, but bear with me. You have to know this part of the story. I’m 5’11″ and my body is all legs. I need that light to see and, quite frankly, I’d been waiting to shave until the night before the trip so I’d be silky smooth. Ladies, you know what I mean.

With a dubious look to the light, I started the water and figured I’d soldier on. How difficult could shaving be in the semi-dark? I could still see the legs, just not the hair.

This is the part where karma laughs at me loud and long.

We’re all good until the shaving part. I’ve put my conditioner in to set while I shave. With the first stroke, I know I’m in trouble. My blade is dull. It’s the last blade I have left before a trip I’m going on tomorrow and all I have is a dull blade, hairy legs and a dark bathroom. I make the unwise decision that if I shave MORE SLOWLY the blade will still do the work of a sharp blade.

I’m a smart person. This was not a smart moment.

I cannot see the leg, so I shave some areas and not others and then shave over some parts and make them sensitive and tender to touch. Nicks are everywhere.

This is when karma and I become even.

Someone in my house, either the 9-year-old or the 32-year-old, makes the unwitting decision that I need to be put in my place once and for all: They turn the water on. As I’m sliding the dull blade up my leg, yet again, the water goes from luke warm to scalding in about 2 seconds. I jump, the blade skips up my leg and…you can see where this is going.

I still have conditioner in my hair.

I’m hurt.

I’m angry.

And this is not funny.

Eventually the water turns lukewarm and I throw the razor across the bathroom and wash my hair out.

We are even, karma. Even Stevens. Do you hear me? It’s over.

Here’s one example.

In the middle of a disagreement…

Leon: (begins laughing uncontrollably)
Jillian: WHAT?!
Leon: I was just thinking “Maybe if I stay very still she’ll think I’m dead and attack something else.”
Jillian:…
Jillian: …
Jillian: I don’t even know what to say right now
(Later he admits that he thought “It’s not working, run away!”)

Yep. That’s our marriage.

It didn’t start that way. It started just fine, well, as fine as a day can start when I’m on a 4 day caffeine induced headache can start. However, I’ve been getting my fitness on and eating well and I was convinced I could get rid of the headache with some really fantastic endorphins. The ones that the elliptical gave me on Saturday were…superb to the say the least.

So, AJ and I headed to the Y and left the sickly Leon at home to face his chest congestion. AJ loves to go the Y and swim while I work out and I like having the company while I drive. We were almost there when I saw joggers going past. As I turned into the Y, I made sure that I made a wide arc to give them plenty of room. I know what it’s like to be on the side of the road and have cars so close that I can feel their heat. I was not rewarded for my good thoughts this time, though, as there was a huge area of pothole/uneven pavement with jagged edges that had my name on it.

It took out both of my right tires and I swerved to avoid rolling down the small hill. When I swerved, I must have bent the rim of one of the tires. When my heartbeat got back to normal, AJ and I got out of the car and hiked up to the Y. We had Leon on his way and roadside assistance coming with the tow truck, so there was nothing to do but go work out. The other option was sit in my car and stew about it. Honestly, I’d rather listen to my mp3 player and work off the calories.

This still hasn’t hit the part where my day was bad. I can handle things like that. As long as I have some semblance of control, I do fine. However, an hour later, the tow truck had not arrived and the place to replace the tires was only open a little while longer. During that time period, Leon’s car battery died. As he was about to lose his shhhh, a gorgeous man was flagged over to help us jump start the car. Of course, this happened after I’d worked out and I. was. stank. Figures.

An hour and a half later, the tow truck finally showed and offered to take my car to their shop and fix the tires. Ok. That worked for me. I hadn’t eaten and was about to Hulk Smash someone, so we grabbed food and went on our way. When we got there, they let me know that the rim was bent, and the two tires punctured beyond repair and they couldn’t fix my car that night, so it would be the next day before they could help us.

Yep. No good very bad day. If you want to contribute to my new tires, you know where the donate button is.

At least it wasn’t as bad as this guy, who drove his car into the flower bed at my office building and knocked down the office sign.

After a fitful night of sleep, I woke up and got dressed and SHELL I had a migraine.

Leon was going out of town, so we decided to meet for lunch. On the way there, I bumped the side of my tire rim on a parking block. SHELL

I had an hour between lunch and a doctor’s appointment, so I went to the dollar tree for a little non-harmful retail therapy. I actually needed some toilet bowl cleaner (WOOO!), so it was productive. Until a woman in the cheeseball aisle walked directly up to me and burped in my face. And not a polite, oopsy burp. A full on sailor belch. I almost vomited. SHELL

When I got to the doctor, I sat in one of the 30 available seats and an old man came in and sat right next to me. Within 3 minutes, I heard a nasty noise, felt a small vibration on the connecting seat and it began to stink really, really bad. Then it happened again. And again.

The old man next to me was pooping in a diaper. Right next to me.

He turned to me and grinned.

He did it on purpose.

SHELL

More stuff happened, but I think that pretty well takes the cake.

When I picked up A.J. from school, we went to Sonic. I got a Route 44 (super huge) Sweet tea and got him a shake. I needed it.

If anyone feels the need to come sit right next to me, when there are 30 available chairs and burp in my face or poop, they can go shell themselves.

Bad Hair day? Check.

Feel bloaty? Check.

No makeup/photoshop? Check.

Unibrow reappearance? Check.

What is possibly a shadow, but could also be a mini-stache? Check.

Acne breakout like it’s 1988? Awwwww, yeeeeeeaaaah.

Bring it, honkies. It’s so on. Who wants to go round with this beast? You? You? SURELY, not you?