Middle class Ass

 

Lady of Liberty

Exciting school homework!  So I am exaggerating, but this type of assignment is better than most.  I have to write a fictional character from 19th Century England (1800-1850) and document the “middle-class” persona.  Three other people, in my history group also have to write a character.  The entire rest of the class is “working class” and then we will debate.  Talk about uneven debate teams!!  So here it goes….

My name is Johanna Sofia Madison-Seaton  and I live in Elberfeld, England.*   I am the owner of Mechanical Weaving Mill.*  I am 29 years old, mother of 3 and a widow.  My husband William Seaton, died from tuberculosis when the children were young.*  I have been educated since childhood and inherited my wealth and property prior to meeting William.* 

I have no interest in remarrying but instead dedicate my time to my children’s studies and teaching them the responsibilities of carrying on our name.  I have assistance from our nanny, who also helps with the house-keeping of my modest 3 bedroom home.  We are well off compared to those in the city, living near the mill.  We have running water, indoor plumbing and a wood stove to keep us warm and to cook on.  We are blessed.

In the city, people don’t even try to clean up after themselves.  Trash is thrown out the windows onto the walkways.  The gutters are always running with water to wash away the sewage.  Often, people dump raw sewage from a chamber pot out the window into the walkway.  Dreadful, disgusting creatures, they are.  They make no effort to educate themselves or their young, who run wild in the streets  Often beggars of all ages line the wall outside my factory.  My brother claims he chases anyone away who won’t go inside to work.

While I am the proprietor of a weaving mill, I hired on family to tend to the daily running of the operation.  The income from the mill and my inheritance comfortably support my family.  I have great concern for children without homes.  A portion of my income is set aside.*  These funds are to support children made orphans by yellow fever, black plague and other diseases.  I plan to also open an art studio and gallery on my home property, to teach art to gifted students that may never have a chance to learn.*

My point of view is “women are imperfect workers'” in factories and I do not hire them for that reason.*  Their responsibilities are at home.  Women should not be giving birth while working in a factory.  My desire for women is to education themselves and their children.  To have a safe place to study and worship.*

Ok, good enough for now.  The * will be endnotes for my works cited page. This is a work in progress and not due until next week. ~P

Facebook and cyber farming

 

          I was sucked into Farmville maybe a year ago.  I enjoy planting the crops and making wine.  Such a nice fantasy life.    Anyone who wants to be my neighbor in cyberfarming Facebook me at Pattie Crider.   If you don’t want to be my farming neighbor but would like to be my Facebook friend, send me a friend request.  Thanks!   ~P.

“Tell it to your therapist”

That is good advice, right?  Everyone should have a therapist.  Whether it’s your friend, family or a paid counselor.  I had an appointment with my therapist today.  Tesla was at daycare enjoying a few hours with her friends.  I had just finished working on my history homework then drove to the therapist’s office.  Shortly after settling into the comfy chair, my cell phone started screaming (literally, my phone screams/laughs wildly when I get a text) and it was from John. 

“I am picking up tess at daycare”

Now he had just told me he couldn’t pick Tesla up at daycare because he had obligations.  He didn’t say exactly what those obligations were and I didn’t ask.  He would have to pick her at 5 pm at home.  Now, at a little before 3pm, he is picking her up??

I texted him back “I already told her I would get her.  I didn’t take her meds to daycare.  sorry.”

“I will pick up meds tomorrow.  I am pulling in there in 5 minutes to get tess.”

I responded “u r a pain in my ass.  her’s too”

Now, remember, I’m sitting in my therapist office in her big comfy chair, sipping my coke and eating a Big Apple’s Bagel sandwich.  Cathy, my amazing counselor, sat back and listened to me read to her what John’s texts said and what my responses were.”  I mentioned a few thoughts I would like to text to him, but that would have just been ugly.

John’s response to being told by his wife that he is a pain in her ass and his daughter’s ass too….

“tell it to your therapist”

Cathy’s jaw dropped when I read that one out loud.

Sweet guy huh?  Sorry I’m concerned about the way you constantly and continually cause Tesla and I to rearrange our lives.  Where we live, what support we receive, if we receive support, custody issues etc.  Yet, no divorce.  No real appraisal on the house or the business.  Joint debt piling up, our names tangled on legal forms.  Lines of credit, now choking the life our of my good credit.  So many worldly goods.  Overindulgence of adult toys.  (not those kind of toys…come on!)  Four wheelers, hot rods, time shares, swimming pool, etc.  Hell, I was sad when my Mercedes was re-poed.  That was a great car and I sure miss it.  BUT, I have another car that no one would bother to steal, much than yet repo.  I don’t live in a big house, that was made even bigger.  The basement of my parents isn’t killing me, but it doesn’t seem fair.  I don’t look far into the future. Trying to be patient.   Life changes during divorce.  I get that.  Tesla gets that.  The people reading this blog GET THAT.  WHO doesn’t get that? (besides the obvious)

Divorce is change.  Life has been changing constantly since 2008.  I don’t know what my future holds.  I see clearly there is no future in my marriage other than divorce….I just can’t seem to shake the 230 lb bald dude that doesn’t want to be married to me.

So John is pissed that I’ve taken to this cyber therapy.  Just telling my therapist wasn’t enough.  I have the whole world to talk to!! 

John texts, “just keep digging that hole, smartass. I am counting on it.”

Yeah, well MY lawyer says I can blog about whatever I want.  Anyone can comment or give their side of any blog I write.  I’m not scared.   Of course I won’t blog about all my little stories.  I have to save the incredibly painful, ridiculous, abusive and hard to believe stories, for my book. 

~P

are things stressful at home?

Who doesn’t have stress in their life?   There is no way to avoid it.  Of course there are the gluttons who seem to survive on stress, but most people like to avoid it.

How stressful is your household?  Do you ever want to pack up and take off?

Presently I live in the basement of my parents.  It’s a somewhat finished area of the house, but it’s not so bad I can’t live down there.  It’s cool in the summer and warm in the winter.  Tesla, Ying and I have settled in nicely.  She has her own area for sleeping, playing, watching tv and making a general hurricane like mess.  Tesla is very active and loves the company of her cousin Blaine. 

Blaine is almost 7 and cute as a button.  His last name is Snelbaker and his nickname has become “Smellmaker.”  He’s not real thrilled about it but the rest of us think it’s funny and appropriate.  I think his mama, Suz, came up with that one.

Suz is my sister.  She has been living in this stressful house for over 5 years now.  Stuck in a situation that begs for her to move, but financially she is not able.  There is much responsibility on my sister in caring for our mom and keeping an eye on our brother, Sam.

Sam moved in last year and is eager to move back out.  The anxiety from living back home is taking over his life.  I believe he would like to move but so far, he hasn’t taken that leap.  A sound plan is needed before he just up and moves.  Sam is one smart guy and has a wonderful dry sense of humor.  He has been through some tough times here late…

Mom has been sick since I was in high school.  She is the strongest person I know.  How she manages to keep going with all the sickness that has taken over her life is impressive.  Even more impressive is she is still married to my dad. 

Dad is Dad.  He comes and goes now that he retired from a full-time job.  He works part-time and spends most of his evening in his room (yes, my parents have separate rooms.  Dad’s is the largest of course.)  Dad also spend hours with his priority in life, playing music.  Don’t let him fool you, I wasn’t the first-born.  His mandolin was.

Yes, it’s stressful at the Crider’s but deep down, when we are not thinking about choking each other, we really DO care.  Well, most of us seem to care.  Some people you can never please.  We aim to please Mom.  If Mom is happy, everyone is happy. 

In that case, I guess we might all stay in this house with only one bathroom.  Mom needs us all here for one another. One bathroom, 5 adults, 2-3 kids depending on the day, and a refrigerator that needs a gallon of milk daily. 

One day, after I graduate from college, I will move.  Tess and Zeth will go with me.  Stress level will go down.  Life will go on.  We will tough it out, as a family.

I used to camp…then the Sheraton became toughing it.


Nothing like camping, the fresh out doors, monster mosquitos and no where to shower. My ex-girlfriend and I used to take the boys camping in Blaine, PA. It was so beautiful there and not over crowded. We had tents and sleeping bags. Took most of our food along with us and had a feast for every meal.  My favorite snack was toasted marshmallows.  Not burnt, just toasted. 
Camping in Blaine, PA actually started with my first husband Gary. We would go with a big group of people, mostly couples. Deb and Kevin, Sue and Kevin and others I’m sure. That was a LONG time ago. Gary and I separated in 1996. Gary is a good guy. Not to be confused with my current husband.
Camping came to an end when I met John. Shar and I were long over until I meeting him but I still was friends with her. He actually ended that friendship for many years once I was under his thumb.  I still had many nice pieces of camping gear,  that I wound up selling for pennies on the dollar. Now I wish I kept my fishing rods, tents, sleeping bags, portable shower, cot, fishing vest, tackle box, bait can, etc.
Roughing it with John meant we had to stay at a Sheraton or even worse a Hotel 6/Super 8. These were below John. He wanted 4 stars or better and that didn’t mean 4 stars sewn on your tent by a boy scout.

3/24/09 When child services come knocking

I was just texting with a friend about divorce and custody.  He didn’t go through a divorce but did have a nasty custody battle over his daughter.  He won, but said only 4-7 percent of fathers get custody.  He said baby’s mama was never a serious person in his life and could prove he could provide for their daughter best.  The courts agreed with him.  He went through hell, and I understand completely.  The multiple days Child Care Services, representing the state’s interest in the welfare of children, came knocking were just vicious attempts to make him stop pursing custody.  I can also relate to that.  When child services came knocking on 3/24/09 I was shocked.

At this point, I was moving into my friend Shar’s (Sharon) house.  The house was just a tiny thing and would probably fit into just John and I’s new bedroom addition.  It is made of stone and matches the large house.  The little house looked more like a small garage, than a house, but it was cozy and kept me near a dear friend for safety.

John had packed up my things at home and helpfully brought them to me.  There was very little that he was allowing me to take.  Mostly my personal items, knick nacks, some clothes etc.  Items we had from moving jobs that he didn’t care about.  A bed for Tesla off a move, a table and 2 bar stools off another moving job etc.  I convinced him to let me use our large red leather chair with an ottoman  also from a job.  It was actually his before we met and I recall him saying he spent $75 on it.   All my furniture was disposed of.  It didn’t rate making it into the Delauter mansion.

I didn’t really think I would be living at the little house very long.  I wanted to work things out with John in the worst way.  Tesla didn’t deserve us breaking up over the control issues her father had and my resistance to being until his thumb.  Our marriage counselor felt I needed to move out temporarily at least, until things cooled off.  John didn’t agree to any idea of me not living under the same roof as him.  Privately, the counselor told me to take my daughter and get out before he hurts me.  I didn’t like the idea of getting hurt.  I chose the plan take a month or two at a friends house and help her fix it up to rent out.

Shar wound up renting to me for a much longer time frame.  Back to March 24, 2009, I was up early working on the large heating grates out of the floors.  Tess was at the sitters and I was rushing to get the grates clean and painted so they would be dry to go back in the house.  There were other people working at the little house.  John’s first wife’s, brother-in-law was there with his son, installing the linoleum in the kitchen.  My sink had been removed and there was no running water.  John was stopping by to help with the floors and build steps to the large house so there was closer access to Shar’s.

CCS showed up around 9:30ish AM.  It felt like someone punched me in the stomach.  Confused and upset I asked why they were there.  The two women said they had received a report that my house was unfit to have Tesla.  Reading from her paper, “house is unfit for child.  Big holes in the floors, no running water or heat.”  I stood in disbelief.

What the hell are they talking about, I thought.  Who the hell would even say that?  People started popping into my head…John, La (secretary), Mike (John’s brother) were my first thought.  Well, the only thought actually. 

I let the women walk through “my home.”  Showed them where Tesla sleeps.  They liked how I decorated her bedroom door in bright colors and her name.  I explained the sink was being replaced but all other sinks worked as well as the toilet.  Gave a flush to prove the point though I could tell they were embarrassed at even going further with this “investigation.”   I turned the heat on even though the doors and windows were open.  Had to prove the heat worked in her bedroom.  I explained the holes in the floor were being covered as soon as the fresh paint was dry on the heat grates (reality: some went in the floor a bit wet.)

Once they were satisfied with the welfare of Tesla at this home, they gave me information on receiving food stamps and WIC checks for Tesla.  She was just  3 when all this happened.  Because they had to see Tesla, I had to send them to the house where a private child psychologist was babysitting.  She was not thrilled about CCS coming to her house, but she had nothing to hide either.  CCS met Tesla and all was well.

I missed my dentist appointment that day.  Rescheduled that appointment and John arrived shortly after noon.  I told him about CCS showing up and he said “I didn’t call them.”  I said “that’s funny because I only told YOU why I wanted you taking Tesla to the sitters today. So the big holes in the floor  could get covered and the sink installed.  Then I could turn on the heat so it’s not so chilly at night.”  He denied calling again and I let it go.  I really wanted to focus on our relationship and improving it so I COULD move back to our house.

John helped for a little while but had to run for a business appointment.  I doubt now it was even an appointment for business.  We went back to my “temporary” bedroom and made love.  I was ashamed I thought he would call child services on me.  I was in denial.  Denial of just how low this man would stoop to get the upper hand.

Though he and his brother threatened to call CCS on me many times, I knew it was all a bluff.  There was no way and still is no way, he will convince anyone I am an unfit mother.  He needs to take a look in the mirror himself.

End note: I know who called CCS for fact now.  Nothing stays a secret forever. 

Bisexual in middle school

I’ve know for a long time now.  I’m bisexual.  No one gets worked up anymore when I talk about women just like I talk about men.  My family and friends all know.  It’s been forever since acting on my bisexuality, but that’s neither here nor there.

Around 8th grade I made the shocking discovery.  I was walking down the hall and JR was infront of me.  I was checking out her ass without even realizing it and thinking “Damn, her ass looks great in those Jordache jeans.”  We’re talking about the 80’s now.  I adored her from a distance I guess you could say.  Always had a “thing” for JR even though I NEVER would have told anyone.

She was so pretty and just an all around nice person.  Even with being beautiful she was never the “stuck up bitch” that high school girls can be.  We would say hi in the halls and if I dared I would sit at a lunch table, just near her.  She had no idea I was fascinated with her and I have no idea why I was.  It didn’t matter of course.  At that age, hormones are out of control.  Mine were obviously confusing but I think I figured it all out since my schools days.

JR was my first girl crush but not my last.  I had a relationship with a woman for 2 and a half years.  Other than having children with my husbands, my most meaningful relationship was with a woman.  I’m not ashamed of that fact, nor do I ever hide it.  I am a diverse person and hope to be accepted in my diversity.  If not, tough shit.  I really don’t care what you think.  HAHAHA!

(Wonder if this person, JR, will ever read this blog…)

~P.

“Who is this?!”

As Jhole insists, I make Tesla call him before bed.  Just like tonight I said “call Daddy before SpongeBob comes on.”  I go ahead and dial, then hand her the phone.  Heather answers, as I suspected she would.  Tesla says “Who is this?  You’re not my dad!” 

“It’s Heather,” Heather says. 

Hmmmm… Heather must be a little slow on getting the picture.  Why would she WANT to answer her new boyfriends phone when his daughter is calling.  Adding to insult, Tesla has no idea who she is and Tesla informed me she didn’t want to have to talk to Heather.  I feel her pain, except of course I’m an adult.  I already know Heather isn’t going to be around for long.  When she realizes what she is a pawn in a game, she will leave.  Unless she’s really that slow. 

Why is she constantly in my home?  Who is she and what is wrong with her that she wants my husband?  Why does she think we need to talk? 

Sister, you can have the man.  But, Tesla is MY daughter and I don’t have to share her with every woman John is trying to hook up with.  He has no business running women in and out of Tesla’s life just so he “has somebody” to be in love with at the moment.

Divorce is painful enough, does it have to include causing your child pain also?  Get a divorce first, then find someone new.   Otherwise, you’re no role model for anyone’s child, much then yet, your own!!!

Gossip….why my husband filed for divorce.

I’m at my neighbors house and my second cousin happened to stop by.  We were on the porch shooting the breeze and he asked how things were going with my divorce.  I told him things were going very slowly.  A few other people happened to be on the porch and when the topic of the entire group switched to the subject of divorce, all eyes were on me.  I said, “not many people know why John and I are getting a divorce.”

  My cousin says “I know why.  Someone told me.” 

I was all ears to hear what this juicy piece of gossip could be.  I know why we are in the process of divorce, but couldn’t wait to hear from a distant cousin what others thought.

 “You’re not going to get mad are you?” he asked me.  ”

Hell no!”  I said.  “Just tell me already!”

“Well, I was told that John caught you in bed with the nanny.”  He confessed.

I couldn’t stop laughing.  Good thing I didn’t need to pee!  That was the funniest one yet on why I’m in this crazy divorce process.  I called the nanny and told her.  She thought it was even funnier than I did. 

Unless we were actually sleeping, I promise you, I was not in bed with the nanny.

(endnote: that probably would have earned me a gift of jewelry not a divorce suit…. if it HAD happened!)

Beaver Hole Writing assignment

FORENSIC BRIDGOLOGY DATA FORM  I have started my “hermit crab essay” and hopefully this link takes you right to it.  This is an assignment from writing class.  The assignment was to write a story in a bizarre, alien format.  I’m writing about Beaver Hole, Warrington Twp, York, PA in the alien format of a forensic reports.

Let me know what you think of my bizarre essay@@@  thanks.  Pattie

View from the bridge

waiting for spring