Pulling Out My Hair

OMG. OMG. How many times until I learn? SMH. I tried to get some support and sympathy from my spouse tonight. I am in the final week until the job transfer. It has been a troubling week in that I thought I was being held a month, instead of the traditional two weeks, to train my replacement.

My supervisor was sending me to my new office at the same moment my replacement was showing up for training. HUH? The supervisor stated my two coworkers could handle it. Then I find out from my replacement the slacker girl went missing and my bestie has to handle the phones and does not have time to spend training. She is not learning much when I am not there. 

I went to see my Director today. While completing some paperwork I need, we talked. I came away humbled and humiliated. It seems I was incorrect as to the reason for the month wait to transfer. Either of my other coworkers are capable of training the replacement. No other reason was offered. HUH?

So let's recap. The Director of Radiology does not like I am leaving. The Director over the physicians offices does not like I am leaving. The physician offices are upset I am leaving. Today I learn the operating room is upset I am leaving. Guess the only place that has no concerns I am going? YUP.

It matters not to my department. Truly, they see no greatness in me. I am equal to all others. In The 7 Hidden Reasons Employees Leave, Leigh Branham writes why many managers don’t care.

"The fact is that many managers and even senior executives simply don’t care about why their employees are leaving. Their attitude seems to be, “If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit you in the backside on your way out!

If this sounds familiar, it should, because it describes the prevailing mindset of most managers in American companies today. Most are overworked, and many are frustrated by their inability to meet the demands of the current workforce, much less do exit interviews.

There will always be managers who are too preoccupied, self-focused, or insensitive to notice the signs that employees are becoming disengaged and too uncaring, complacent, blaming, in denial, insecure, or ego-defensive to find out the real reasons they left. They too readily accept turnover as “a cost of doing business.” They are too willing to believe the superficial reasons for leaving that employees give in exit interviews.

Why? Psychologists call it “motivated blindness”; they cannot handle the truth — that the real reason the employee left may be linked to their own behavior. These managers are actually choosing not to see, hear, or speak the “evil” that plagues them.

I have to admit I was one who became disengaged. What is that? Disengaged employees are uncommitted, marginally productive, frequently absent, or, in the case of the actively disengaged, actually work against the interests of the company. I was not in the latter category, but I was disruptive, complaining, and occupied the time and attention of my supervisor and Director far too frequently. I figured out I no longer fit the job, *deep sigh of relief*.

Here it comes. Brace yourself. I was trying to explain to my spouse my frustration that my department can't see or acknowledge the level of talent they are losing. I can't figure out why they kept me a month or why they failed to tell me when my last day was. I had to ask my new supervisor when I was to show up. All I got was 'you bitched about the job, now you're bitching about leaving the job'. Blink. Blink.

I found this sentence describing an abusive man in everyday life. 'He doesn't like having her appear in public as smart, capable, and interesting, because that collides with his deeply held belief that she is irrational, incompetent, and worthy of being ignored—a view of her that he many want others to share with him.'


Him and my managers. lol.

Practice Makes Perfect

From About.com: Getting out of an abusive relationship can be difficult, because your ex might try to hurt you or manipulate you into staying together. Use firm language, stay strong and end the conversation quickly. You don't owe them anything.

 

4 Tips for Every Breakup

• Always break up with someone as soon as you decide that it's time to move on. Don't let your relationship die out on its own. The longer you stall, the more painful the breakup will be for both of you.
• Always break up in person. It's plain rude to break up with someone over the phone (or worse, with a text).
• Never backtrack. If you know for sure that it's time to break up, don't leave the conversation in any other way than completely broken up.
• Realize that however you break up, it's going to hurt. Be sensitive and compassionate, but don't beat yourself up it. You did the right thing.

It was time, but it was a messy breakup. I couldn't tolerate the betrayal. Alcohol used to be fun. We enjoyed our time together but no longer. Menopause changes so many things. A little goes too long a way. I wake up with headaches and fuzziness the next day. It gives me hot flashes—annoying; and rapid heartbeats—uncomfortable. I have fluttering heart, what feels like missed beats, racing heart and pounding out of my chest heart. A recent echocardiogram, EKG, and a stress test has cleared me of heart problems. Ah, the betrayal. 

Tachycardia is the medical term for a rapid or irregular heartbeat. The normal heart rate is approximately 60 to 100 beats per minute. A heart rate over 100 can be considered rapid. (Mine likes to hover around 108 when this happens). It’s an arrhythmia. The most immediate way to deal with rapid or irregular heartbeat when it occurs is to try to relax. Avoiding stimulants can help, especially caffeine, alcohol and nicotine.

I told my husband of my decision. So a few days later he brings me a glass of wine. I’m like, what? I left it alone and finished cooking dinner. He got angry when he saw I didn't drink it. I reminded him of my reasons. He said it was good to get my heart pumping, like exercise. I responded, 'No, it’s an arrhythmia. It means an irregular heart rate. Not good.' Fine then, and snatches the glass away. Pout, mutter, plotting revenge.

The next day I am concentrating at the computer when he startles me on purpose. He does this regularly. I asked him to please stop that as I don’t like it. His reply, ‘Should have had the wine’.

Practice makes perfect. I will keep learning how to leave things behind. Leaving an abuser is hard to do, with time and planning I will succeed.

I am so Hateful

I had a fight with my husband yesterday. I admit it--I snapped. He tried to help me and I did not want it. It was a straw on camel because I was stewing over a situation he put me in on Friday. A situation I did not have the chance to discuss because of the splish splash incident. He attempted to make me do something I don't agree with and he knows it. Well anyway, off on another topic. Same theme.

Saturday, he wanted me to watch Dark Shadows, the Johnny Depp movie (I hate Depp movies). I started it, he fell asleep, per usual. It had witchcraft and satanism in it. Practices my faith excludes. I left the room and went to watch Cupcake Wars on my computer. So we pick up the conversation on Sunday morning...

I mentioned we have different tastes in movies.

Did you watch the whole movie?

No, it had witchcraft and satanism in it. I don't agree with these things. This is not entertainment to me.

You need to know your enemy. You're being all church lady. (What does that mean?)

He spent several minutes telling me how 'disappointed' he was that I did not watch the movie. There was a theme he wanted to me understand. My stomach churned that he did not respect a core belief of mine. That he thought he could override it by angry words.

Later, he put on his shoes saying he might as well leave now (he had a job to get to) as he didn't want to be around me. I had yelled at him for no reason when he was just trying to be helpful (yesterday). I give him that. He then gave me a script I should have used to decline his help. Inside my head, my jaw dropped. If I tried that with him...He said I can be incredibly hateful. Again, jaw drop...

He was filling up some water jugs and I asked him if he was filling the up the batteries in the machinery he uses for work. No, I am filling water jugs. Sooooo an 'unhateful' answer... And then he just leaves without saying goodbye.

I know I should apologize, but it just feels like empowering his bad behavior.

Splish splash, I was taking a bath...

While I was checking dinner, my husband sprayed me with the kitchen hose. He laughed. Great joke. I told him I didn't appreciate being wet. He got angry.  

Him: Why? It's only water.
Me: It's cold and I didn't want to be wet.  
Him: O, Your Highness. Your Princess.

I went to change my shirt. He got angrier when he saw that. 
It was only water!
Yes, unreasonable me. I should have sat there in my wet shirt.

For The Want of A Nail...

I asked my husband if he would run down to the corner store to pick up a gallon of milk with a free coupon. As he was soon leaving to do some errands could he could run to the store and back for me? Perfect. He refused. Nevermind, I got dressed. On my way out, he remarked, was I going for milk? I said I had to since he wouldn't. Oh, man that was a match to gasoline. A fountain of anger to the words of: He was not my puppy dog. I could get off my lazy ass and go do it myself. It wasn’t like I was doing anything. I got the milk. Did it end there? No. A Facebook message waited for me.

"Thanx for once again screwing up a perfectly peaceful Sunday with your selfishness!

 All I did was ask my husband to run down to the store for a gallon of milk as many other wives do. For the want of a nail (or a gallon of milk)…He doesn’t see the butterfly effect in all these small encounters. His anger is destroying this marriage.

PS Here it is now hours later. He is done playing very important Facebook games and is stretched out to ‘watch’ a movie which translates into 'I am going to fall asleep'. What about those errands he was going to run? He’ll do them later.

I whisper I need a new crayon

The husband and I were invited out to the boss' home for dinner. Seems his new girlfriend is preparing a meal of delicious things to eat. It is to be a spaghetti dinner straight from the avenues of Sicily. Sauce simmered for hours with the tastiest ingredients, a secret family dressing to marinate the vegies in a traditional salad, and caponata with crunchy crackers. A feast of the senses. Me. The one gluten intolerant and reactive to foods. I don't want to be sick or offend, what am I to do?

My husband stepped in, funny how he didn't do any of this when we went camping with his parents, and spoke for me. The girlfriend was ever so generous and prepared a spaghetti squash instead of wheat pasta (she even purchased rice spaghetti if that were my choice). My mouth waters with the remembrance of that squash and meaty sauce. She even bought me rice crackers for the hors’d’oeuvres. I had no immediate food reaction. None of that instant nausea when wheat or it's many derivatives hits the stomach, but today the fibromyalgia is knocking on the door.

To 'be nice' I did eat foods I knew I was going to react to. How could I not eat her lovely red sauce on the spaghetti squash even though it has pork in it? I don't want to be the Spanish inquisitor for every dish being served. I live in a world that is so very different from the norm. I often feel like a bubble girl. I can see out and my world is wide and spacious with a thin protective barrier surrounding me. When others look in they just see isolation with cramped borders. It is that thin protective layer that causes the misunderstanding.

My husband did not understand that it is two hours past my bedtime, a bedtime dictated not by need for sleep, but by the need to be asleep before the pain begins, and my husband is still visiting and the burning ache is in my legs, and the hips are screaming 'enough', and I am missing snippets of conversation because the words are drowned out by twinges, I can't focus on anything else and I want to be home so I can privately moan when it is too intense, to change gravity by stretching on the bed that makes my nighttime bearable.

Wishing so very much to be 'normal' and just be in the moment. A moment not crayoned in the silver of pain.

Contemplation on the Edge of Time

 
Tomorrow. I had a child out of wedlock. My parents made me (Then) give her up for adoption. The me (Now) would have not gone along so acquiescently. I remember avoiding the nursery since I knew she was not mine (Then). She was (Now). A few times I attempted to guess in which of the bassinets along the wall she lay. She started life in the back of the class. I should have asked to see her. She was of me, from me. Could-a, would-a, should-a.

The dilemma? I want to start a search. Unfortunately, the adoption was arranged in a 'closed records' state. I put contact info in her file years ago, but no strangers have knocked on the door. She is 37. Old enough to have unanswered questions. Maybe no one told her. What then?

As I have mentioned other times, I have poor memory. Perhaps it is a consequence of the fibromyalgia I struggle with most days. Perhaps it is a blessing from above to wake unhindered from past mistakes, regrets, and sorrows.

"Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.  --Saul Bellow

Ah-OOO ooo oooo oo. I can hear them howling. Insignificance panting on the horizon. Poor memory made me struggle to remember the birth father's name, a boyfriend my junior year of high school. After a few hours of Internet searching, I found him. Facebook. Duh. He recently moved back to the scene of the crime. Also opened that Facebook account. Serendipity. So what now? Do I contact him? To what end? I am searching my motive. Time enough in the tomorrows.

Today. The spouse had the follow up appointment for his edema. We never got the results. His complaints started shortly after we arrived. The customary bitching about the appointment time is merely a suggestion for the doctor. Okay. I agreed, but that is reality. It was bla-bla-bitch all the time in the examining room. After two hours he said outta here and off we go. On the ride home, he says he better not be charged for this visit. Like it is my job to fix that! He did wonder if I would have any repercussions from his actions. Nope, I am not the one acting like an ass. My coworkers know my character. It did amuse me when he ranted the doctor could now call him at home with the results. If only...

Yesterday. I miss waking daily to see my daughter and grandboy. My trip east was restorative. I felt real. I returned to the facade. I want to be there, not here. *Howl*

If a Butterfly

The butterfly effect is the observation that an event as seemingly insignificant as the flapping of a butterfly's wings might create a huge storm in a distant place. It is sometimes applied to a small, almost imperceptible thing that can have a large and momentous consequence. The mayonnaise jar is a pivotal moment. His bursts of anger always leave me drained, gasping, and running for higher ground. The day will come when I keep running without looking back. 

Dr. John Gottman, a psychologist at the University of Washington, studied more than 2,000 married couples over two decades. He discovered patterns about how partners relate to each other which can be used to predict – with 91% accuracy – which marriages will succeed and which will fail. The four attitudes that most predict the dissolution of a relationship, especially in combination, are criticism, defensiveness, contempt and stonewalling. 

Before Jay Leno and David Letterman, the King of Late Night was Johnny Carson. He donned a turban and cloak and became Carnac the Magnificent. Ed McMahon would continue, 

"No one knows the contents of these envelopes, but you, in your divine and mystical way, will ascertain the answers to these questions having never seen them before. 

Carnac would hold a business size envelope to his forehead and give an answer. He’d then rip open the envelope and read the question. I can see him adding this to his routine.
Answer: Engagement ring, wedding ring, and suffering. Envelope ripping. Question: How is marriage like a three-ring circus?

New Year's Revolution

I made a decision. Good or bad, I don’t know, but it felt right. I am staying in my marriage. He said something to me that caused me to re-evaluate my expectations. To me, marriage is a partnership of common goals and ideals. I picture it as a pioneer couple on the frontier. Each may have duties, but the goal is to carve out a homestead. At the end of a life, there is proof positive of things accomplished, tangible things left behind, a mark on the face of the planet.

When I expected him to fulfill his duties like cut the wood, haul the water and hunt a critter duties, I got disappointed. I isolated myself, which I know is a poor coping skill. Hiding does not help with reaching a goal like happiness. I can’t remember the words said. I have had memory problems ever since I was a child. I can recall the emotion of the words. It was an ‘Oh’ moment. Oh, I need to find my own happiness because you are not my pioneering partner. Oh, I can do that. Oh, I will do this instead. Oh, I feel empowered. I have found an outlet for the creative-accomplishing-tangible-things-left-behind need. I have been setting up an Etsy business. I have always, always wanted to own a business and work from home. So there it is--a New Year's revolution. Find happiness, not outside my marriage, but inside myself.

Reflections

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

I am not moving away, but I am moving forward. Still processing why I decided what I did. I know it feels right. I should get it in words soon.

Reflections

He is upping the behavior, but I expected that. He keeps shutting the bedroom door so I don't get any heat. Every time I open it, he closes it. If I am going to be cold, might as well go to the storeroom and start sorting, disposing, donating and packing.

Thunderstruck

I owned a dog once who hated storms. When the large clouds roll in, and even before the first crash of thunder hit, this dog would panic, running in search of a safe place to hide. He would claw his way into my lap, pant, and drool puddles. Ick. That’s me right now. I’m scared, scrambling for a safe place. Starting life over again is scary. I want to wake up and this be a bad dream. I came across this tidbit.

Change is Good – There are individuals who despise change. Look closely and you will see these are the same people who get left behind in their careers, in their personal lives and tend to suffer more than those who are more adaptable. When you are willing to change you open yourself up to receive and experience new things. It is these things that provide you with the nuggets of wisdom you’ve been looking for that makes a difference in your life. You can stand still and fight change all you want but it’s a losing battle!

There is my silver lining spin. I want change. I am adaptable...Wait. Just. A. Freaking. Minute. What new age philosophy dribble is that? I don't want this change. I want a happy marriage. I want to rage, rant, cry, vomit, smack a Divasaurus, all at the same time. It is so not fair. *Kicking and screaming* Not fair. He has not spoke to me since the gauntlet hit the ground. I constantly question myself. Should I cave? Should I attempt a reconciliation? Am I being a bad wife? Could I just pretend this never happened? Close your eyes, click your heels and whisper this a million times--it is about control. He had it and you were. He will not change. What to do? 

 ♫ No one can find the rewind button, girl. So cradle your head in your hands, And breathe... just breathe, Oh breathe, just breathe ♫

Sam Baldwin, Sleepless in Seattle, 'Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning... breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out... and, then after a while, I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while.

It was great and perfect for a while. Then it wasn't for a long time. Time for grief.

We Enter Relationships as a Somebody and Leave Them as a Nobody

I am so tired. Even my fingers are yawning. It happens whenever I have a serious emotional experience. Yesterday, I asked my husband to stop with his angry outbursts or I would have to leave him. He agreed. So I am making arrangements to move. Putting in two weeks notice, cut off dates for utilities, cancelling payments for travel money, copying medical records, getting my doctor to give me a year's refill on my meds, filling in change of address cards, researching self move vehicles for best price, going through my possessions, getting boxes, telling friends and family, opening new checking acct in my name, mapquesting the trip, and things I have not thought of yet.

It is sad. He so quickly told me to get out. Unfriended me on Facebook within minutes. Removed our anniversary on the calendar. Rather than eat the meal I prepared, he tossed it in the sink with the dishes I was washing. I did not sleep well. He frightens me.

A Taste For Irony...

...has kept more hearts from breaking than a sense of humor, for it takes irony to appreciate the joke which is on oneself. --Jessamyn West

What is the difference between hypocrisy and irony? The hypocritical speaker professes beliefs, feelings or virtues that he does not hold. The hearer is not intended to understand the contradiction. In irony, the speaker intends others to know what she means is different or opposite from what is said. It is used as a means of contrast. Pay attention, pop quiz follows. Ogden Nash wrote, 

"I would live all my life in nonchalance and insouciance, Were it not for making a living, which is rather a nouciance. 

I work a stressful job. Many days I drag myself home. Do I hit the front door in a good mood? Not always. It takes awhile to make the ‘switch’. I want comfy clothes, food and the internet, in that order. Truly, I know better than to share my day with my spouse. Truly. He has made it very clear my life is of no interest to him unless a news crew is involved. 

I created a nuisance when I shared the latest stress. My supervisor says it is my new job to help a coworker, if she needs it, during my lunchtime and during the time she goes to lunch. I don’t get to eat, but she does. So not fair. He was ugly. Since I left before his rant was complete he left this note near the coffee pot.

You need to learn, that when you walk in that front door, it’s time to put FAMILY FIRST!!! Your bullshit dramas about work, and ‘not getting to eat’ don’t mean a [DELETED] thing next to that!!! You know how many people have to do without for more than a whole day? And yet, they still find happiness AT HOME!!! STOP BEING A SELFISH TWIT!!!! Church is supposed to teach you that!!!! You sure you’re in the ‘right one?

In case I missed the note, I had a text waiting on my phone. 

Jesus fed a multitude with ONE LOAF. I wonder how long they had to wait for what little THEY got.

The next day, I went to the gym before heading home. It gives me a chance to delay switch. Plus watching Buddy on Cake Boss while walking on the treadmill amuses me. On the way home, I received this text, 

So I guess, given your stubbornness, I am feeding myself now?

Were you paying attention? Here is the pop quiz. (A) I was wrong to be upset over being denied lunch. (B) I was wrong because he shouldn’t have to wait to eat. (C) Both A and B.  Irony. It's what's for lunch.


P.S. I have learned to leave the building when it is my lunchtime. If they can't find me, I get to eat.

Who Says I'm Crabby?

We've all seen a cop drama TV show in which a criminal suspect is interrogated while police watch from behind a mirror. That mirror consists of a light side and a dark side with one side allowing bright light while the opposite side allows faint light through. People on the brightly lit side see their own reflection—it looks like a normal mirror. People on the dark side see through it—it looks like a transparent window. 

That’s the advantage of a dark side. Carl Jung taught we all have a face that looks back from the dark side of the glass. He called it the shadow. Those parts of our personality we’re not proud of, choose to deny, or hide away. My husband calls me Lucy Van Pelt. It is not a nickname bestowed with affection. Charles Shultz, the creator of Peanuts, said,

"Lucy comes from that part of me that’s capable of saying mean and sarcastic things, which is not a good trait to have, so Lucy gives me a good outlet.

Lucy was his shadow. Even though my spouse uses this nickname in ridicule, was there something I could learn? In Bringing Your Soul to Work: An Everyday Practice, it offers an exercise to find the hidden treasures in our shadow.

"One of the indirect ways we can approach our shadow is to examine someone we admire and why we admire them, whether real people or fictional characters. And sometimes what we learn can be surprising.

I do admire Lucy. She goes through life on her own terms. I want that life. I can use her bossiness to become my own life coach. Crabby? You betcha. She has a voice and speaks up, no one takes advantage of her. No way would she settle for being labeled. Being a fussbudget keeps me thinking about unfortunate things that might happen. As a master of disaster management, I am resilient, prepared, and fearless. Bad tempered and mean? Sure. I will fight in the name of respect, truth and fairness. Accepting my imperfections, weaknesses, and shortcomings helps me become more humble and genuine. I am a positive force. I am reminded that people who live behind glass mirrors should not throw stones of criticism at other people. Perhaps my spouse could learn something from Nelson Muntz? Haw haw.

Note to Self

DRY = Don't Repeat Yourself. It's a software engineering principle* and a reminder. Just because he is watching a movie my son loved as a child does not mean I can mention it to him again. I already told him that. Same story over and over. I was enjoying a happy memory and wanted to share the laughter of that day. Please don't in the future.

*Thank you Mark Snead for the info on the software principle. It is a variation of the principle I know as Only Handle It Once.

Note to Self

Remember to ask, 'I am going to [insert location]. Want to come with me?' Or else be prepared to wait for whenever he gets around to deciding it's time to leave. Frustration, it's what's for dinner.

Role the Window Down

Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher claimed that a good tragic play must arouse pity from the audience, adding that the best way to accomplish this was through the usage of dramatic irony. I present the following three act play for your enjoyment.
 
Characters [Husband and Wife]
Act One [Scene: Parking lot of national pharmaceutical chain. Husband and wife stand next to vehicle. Another vehicle approaches. Driver is yelling.]
Unknown driver: (Muffled name), you are such a slut!
[Vehicle exits scene. Husband and wife share smile. Enter their vehicle and drive off. Wife rolls down window.]
Husband: "You rolled down the window to hear him yell something else.
Wife: (Gasps) "I did not. I wanted some air. It is stuffy in here.
Husband: "Yay, right. You love gossip. How come you can never own up to your actions?
Wife: (Using logic) "How could I hear him? He drove to the other side of the building before we left and is long gone.
Husband: "Uh huh, I know you so well, always denying things to look innocent. I’ve been through that before.
[Wife sits stunned. Husband is joyous. They travel to their destination. End of Act One.]

Act Two [Scene: Home of Husband’s son and family. RockStar game is being played. Wife played drums. Husband finished singing and scoring high. Husband sings professionally.]
Son: (Hands microphone to Wife) "You can sing this song.
Wife: "No. I don’t want to.
Husband: (Mocking) "What about all that money you spent on singing lessons?
Wife: "I had a few and haven’t practiced at all. I won’t sing with you in the room.
Son: "Come on. You can choose another song if you want.
[After several attempts to coerce Wife into singing, Husband abruptly leaves home and enters vehicle. Wife makes apologies and says goodbye. End of Act Two]

Act Three. [Tense ride home. Wife turns off radio.]
Wife: (Timid) "I won’t sing around you because you have made negative comments about my singing in the past.
Husband: "You ruined the family fun we were having by not participating.
Wife: "I played the drums. I am not going to take a hit to my self-esteem. That was not right to just walk out and not say goodbye to your son.
Husband: (Scoffs) "So now your going to lecture me on that? It was like when we’d go to Karaoke night. There were not so good singers. After they heard me, they gave up and went home rather then sing again. You couldn’t compete against me. That is the real reason you did not want to sing. Again, not taking responsibility for your actions and playing innocent. I know you so well. Better than you will ever know me.
Wife: (Gasping like a fish. Silence the rest of the way home) [End of play]

Soren Kierkegaard said, ‘Irony is a disciplinarian feared only by those who do not know it, but cherished by those who do’. My husband is a bully. According to David Hawkins in his book Dealing with the Crazymakers in Your Life, '(Aggressors)…are expert at throwing out accusations, shifting the blame, and attacking others… They can’t look honestly at their condition. Most lack the ability to be aware of, and sensitive to their deception. It’s called denial.’ Come, Dear Readers, cherish the irony. The man who ‘knows me so well’ rejects reality. Let me roll down the window to let the fresh air in.

Uh huh, That's Right The Sequel

As I wrote in an earlier entry, from the first day the new modem arrived, it had problems with connectivity. My spouse solved his problem by mainlining the internet via ethernet needle. I had to reboot the modem everyday. His resentment of the momentary withdrawal to his chronic usage was growing. One day, he held off my reboot while he leveled up on a game. I went to bed before I got to check my Facebook. I had had enough. It was time for some new house rules. Since he works part time, I thought he would be willing to call the provider and work it out. Temper. Temper. He refused and told me it was my computer and my problem. Ok, I will own that one. As I was dialing, he suggests quite firmly on what I am to do, say and allow the techogeek to do while assisting me. Hmmm...what to do? What would the Supernanny do?

Staying calm and in control while your child learns his boundaries is key, and it helps to be consistent in the way you discipline him. The naughty mat is used on the show when you're out and about and your child's behavior becomes unreasonable...

 Staying calm, I asked him if he wanted to make this call? Uh huh, that's right, he did not, so perhaps he would like to remain quiet? Placed right firmly on the naughty cushion he was. Now I need to see how Jo deals with bad language.

Butterfly Effect

I hold in my hand these envelopes. As a child of four can plainly see, these envelopes have been hermetically sealed. They've been kept in a #2 mayonnaise jar since noon today on Funk and Wagnall’s porch.--Ed McMahon

Who could predict a mayonnaise jar would be at the center of so much controversy? On an ordinary workday and I went to brew a cup of liquid motivation. My spouse asked a question delivered with embedded shards of glass and wrapped in barbed wire. Did I know where his mayonnaise jar was? A surge of adrenaline burns away the last of sleep. We live in a tiny apartment and he is an unapologetic collector. I am smothered by useless things, duplicate things, future things, broken things, things collected to appease the fear, more and more objects sucking the oxygen from the very space which surrounds me. Periodically, I am compelled to thin the brush. I quickly wash a mayonnaise jar from the refrigerator. He is not appeased. I escape to the job, but wonder does the flap over a mayonnaise jar in New Mexico set off a typhoon in Tokyo?