Baby Cradle

My nephew/niece in law are about to have their second child, Brock, on Monday. We don't have much in monetary to give them but I do have allot of wood (another story). So I enlisted the help of my neighbor who has a shop with almost near every wood working device ever made and I was armed with a fuzzy printout on how to build a baby cradle. Unless you have worked wood before the printout is written in gibberish and NOT in step by step. But it was the only one that I could find online for free.
My neighbor did most of the work but I learned an incredible amount and how to use a belt sander, scroll saw, nail gun, the tilt on a table saw, and a paint sprayer. It takes 45 min to clean a paint sprayer. Unless I am painting my house I will never use one again. *smiles*  I made the rockers, one has a slight flat spot. When the cradle rocks on cement or wood floor it sounds like a heart beat when it hits the flat spot.

The paint is a latex enamel for wood. It should last three or four kids before it needs to be repainted. The wood is 3/4 in pre- sanded plywood that is made for cabinets.

I'm Baaaaaack!!!

It has been forever. I have been busy, crazy, and busy some more. This was a plain white eyeglass case and my friend asked me to "Please please, do your thing!"

Annoyance and More

Time to rant.

Things are less than peachy. They are downright baffling to me. While I have know for a long time that I was either pretending to be happy or I had bouts of acceptance that made me believe I was happy. Either one is true and false at the same instant. I knew that I loathed the life I was living, the life that I had made myself mold to make someone think I was happy. Or that someone just did not have a deeper intellect or caring of what was going on outside his three foot personal space. I don't know. I do know that I was led to believe that I was wrong in feeling restless or wanting more for myself, that I was somehow messed up for feeling that I needed to go to school to learn a trade because it can wait and I need to be home for my stepson or we did not have the money. Wait. Wait. Wait.

I caved and started smoking again. We had several discussions about the topic and the next day he finds the cig butts and has an all out fit about them. We had a giant row over the fact I was smoking and how we could not afford it. I had to get him to understand that being a parent to him, his child, and my daughter with no release of stress was coming out as losing my temper over the stupidest things. So he accepted the smoking. I can only take so much medication before I am just another pill head. Plus the fact that on the drugs my thinking slows down to a pitiful rate and I have a three year old. I cannot be a zoned out mother, she would grow up to Dora raising her during the day and sitcoms at night. It is unacceptable.

Now we skip to two weeks later. He is in more and more pain. I fear it is nerve damage in his neck, the back muscles are spasming hourly, he is constantly on muscle relaxers and pain pills. The muscle relaxers change his personality to where I really cannot say how he is going to react to anything. The next day his mind is wiped blank from the day before and we have the same conversations over and over again. But each time it is a different conclusion. He only focuses on two or three words out of a sentence and suddenly blows up over those words.

Today, for instance, he gets a hard tone in his voice and it pisses me off because I feel like I am a teenager getting lectured. I get a tone back and then he starts in on me because I tell him not to raise his voice at me. He flips, and starts actually yelling at me, with the classic and cliche line of  " That wasn't yelling, THIS IS YELLING AT YOU"
It was over the fact that I forget that people asks simple questions in a nice tone when they are actually baiting a hook and when you answer wrong, but honestly, they flip out. I should have been more guarded and not been relaxed. Sad, I know. We were about to drive past a discount tobacco place that he gets his snuff at and I asked him if he wanted to stop and get our nicotine.
"our nicotine, huh?"
"yeah."
"What, you want a carton?"
"I dunno, I guess. Do you think it would be cheaper?"
"Just how many packs are you up to a day now?" --This is when the tone started, deeper bass, harder edged words.
"I am not up to any packs a day. Don't yell at me."
" I am not yelling at you. Why the fuck do you want a carton then?"
"Stop yelling at me. I don't want a carton. You brought it up."
"Why do you want a carton? Why are you getting so defensive with me about this?"
"Stop yelling. Just go in and get you shit and I will get my shit later"
He peals out of the parking lot.
"I am not yelling at you, THIS IS YELLING AT YOU! DO YOU WANT ME TO YELL AT YOU?"


I shut down and stop talking, and now it is my fault because I threw " little fit and went crying to your fucking mama's house". I stayed at the house for three more hours after that, at the end of the three hours I went to him to try and even things out and he wouldn't look at me. I asked him if he wanted me to leave him alone and he told me yes. I asked him for how long and he said he did not know. So I packed up my art stuff and my kid and left for my mom's. He never said a word. I think he wanted me to leave. I think he wants me to leave. So it will be my fault and he will not look bad for kicking his wife and three year old out of the house.

In my defense I have only stayed at my mom's house when we were fighting twice in the 10 years we have been together. The rest of the fights, I stayed and fought it out or stayed and suffered the silence and coldness. Either way I never ran off or ignored the fact he existed and watched TV for hours/days on end. I tried. I really actually tried.

I even tried calling later (conditioning) and he was flippant when I told him that I was staying at my mom's. Do you not care? No. You always get to do whatever you want, so what does it matter how I feel? You throw your little hissy
Ah, that is right. I forgot I never ever try and stay at the house and work things out with you. I always run the fuck off.
yeah, you do.

It is like arguing with someone that is bi polar-- they have no recollection whatso ever of what they say. He is the same way. He will say whatever he wants to win the argument. And the more hurtful and untrue the faster it will fly out of his mouth.
The sad thing is, I just realized this about 2 weeks ago. How sad is that? Now what the hell do I choose?
Left or right?

Later at night, I find my daughter is asleep, i have time on my hands, my husband is either drug induced sleep or  hurting so much that my touch is unbearable to him. So I putter around on the internet, grasping at things that interest me at one point in time but I do not have the drive to accomplish them.
The toll takes a long and harder hit on me at night. Sleep is an odd thing. One night I will sleep so soundlessly and other nights I am plauged by nightmares or dreams that are so intense and real that they wake me up and feel like memories that happened right then.
They bug me the most because they cause the what if's to rear it's ugly head up. The nightmares I am used to, I have had them since I was small and only do I have a dreamless sleep when I am on medication. which means I do no artwork either.
Pick the lesser evil. I'll deal with the nightmares to be creative.I just can't deal with the feeling of crying late at night. I hate crying more than most so I bottle it up. I really should stop doing that.

pppffffffffttttttttt

It has been way to long since I have posted anything.
I find myself wishing I had taken a different path many years ago and it is really grating on my mind. The what if's bear down and make life that should be happy almost saddening unbearable.
Let go and live, right? What you have now you should be able to accept and be happy. But the tears well up and just haunt right behind my eyes, close up my throat and make me want to scream. I wish I could split in two so the other me can run off and find her heart while this me would be happy without the what if's.

I hate depression.

Hy husband's head injury seemed to flutter away for awhile and now in the last week suddenly his short term memory is shot to hell again. And I mean 6 hours.
Everyday I have the same conversations with him, over a range of topics and each topic he will come to a different conclusion.
I caved after our last fight and bought a pack of cigs, it took two days before I would open them. I told him right off the bat so we could skip the whole "you betrayed me" accusations. The next day he found some butts I had in a cup (WTF was he looking in the bottom of a trash cup anyway) on the patio and he asked whose they were.
It suddenly dawned on me that I am having an affair with his alter ego. That is the only way I can explain how one day he is so accepting of things and the next day refuses to speak to me at all because he found out I am smoking again. And then he can;t understand why I am upset.
I am having a make believe relationship. You cannot remember day to day so what is the point of even trying. What is the point of even caring anymore? Why am I still here? Is it because I still care or is just fear of change?
Maybe if I start writing again i will feel better and get confusions out of my head.
So feel free to ignore the drama writing over the next month or so, I don't mind, I am trying to get the pathways in  my mind cleared so maybe I can think and remember clearly again.

Fair

I love the fair. Mainly for the rides and the adrenaline rush of spinning around upside down at night. It is just great to giggle that much while a kid a screaming next to you that he is going to be sick. I have also been know to howl throughout the entire ride. Make beeping noises when they go backwards, and only scream on the way down because I am actually screaming at the people standing around the ride.

Good times.

Nikki's medicine has sped her up so I am going to update more tomorrow!

Really? It's been a month??

It's been almost a month since I posted?? Holy cow.

In my drama style, I am feeling better and we are keeping the pace of having a grand fight on the 20th. It was stupid and buried under the rug (to fester)...:) Cig smoke still bothers me, and that is beyond aggravating.

Anyway- still working on the Driftwood artwork series. I have three more pieces and the next one will be the large pendulum piece. Now that I have figured out how to make if stable it will work so much better.

 

Don't mind the blinding white skin, even after tanning four times this year I am still pale as...well, a ghost. haha.

I dyed purple streaks in my hair.  I wanted them darker so they would be more distinct, this was a dyed twice job and while the are screaming purple, it just was not what I had in mind. I am going to try again in April.