Today was one of those days that shouldn't have happened at all. Mom & Dad have been out of town for a week. Got a call from Mom first thing, as expected, but her voice is wrong. She says "You must have been at the bus stop when I called a few minutes ago." Another flag, since my mother doesn't call before 8, and the timestamp on the message is 7:19.

What's going on, Mom?

And then, smack, "Gloria called."

"Did Loy die?"

"No, Melanie and the baby. "

"Car accident?"

"No, embolism. "

Who the fuck dies of an aeortic embolism at 38, when you're 36 weeks pregnant with your first baby?!?!

What kind of fucked up, cruel--no evil--joke is that for her husband and parents? So, while this wont impact my life on a daily basis, I'm just left trying to process it all. I'm angry and confused and not sure where to put all of these emotions, since these people were not a big part of my life, but I'm sure acting like they are.

I know that Mom keeps thinking of me when she thinks of Melanie, and it's kind of creepy. Hell, I keep thinking of me when I think of this.

It doesn't help the directive for happiness was mandated yesterday.

Another year gone, and I feel like it's exactly where I left off last time. We're quickly approaching Thanksgiving, Evan's 4th and Jonah's 6th. It really has all blurred into a dull tableau, quoting Barenaked Ladies.

We moved over the summer, a great big, bold move into a fabulous house. And then, Chris took a new job and I'm house-hunting...but this time in PA. How am I, a southern-raised belle, going to make it up north--again. College was one thing. At Michigan, I was expected to branch out, be crazy, and do stupid things and people to stay warm (I need to stop smiling, Chris will think I'm looking at porn).

No, now I am going up north with three kids in tow, and the way to stay warm is wearing flannel underwear. How the hell do you potty train a kid when they're under 4 layers, including a snow suit? Leo, you've got to hold it dear. Mommy, will get you out of there in 10 minutes...

But, Jonah is getting angrier and angrier that Chris is away, and I am getting more and more resentful that he thinks that coming home is like staying at a 2-star hotel. He jokingly complains about the lack of attention and how the beds aren't made with turn-down service, but there's some annoyance in his voice. He jokes "This hotel sucks", but it's just one more time I'm reminded that my life is about making him and the other boys in this house happy, and that I am failing.

Forget making myself happy. I've forgotten how to be happy.

We just had a fight about that.

Him: "You're like living with a dead person. I am tired of picking you up and trying to revive you."

Me, glaring, thinking "fuck you": "Uh huh."

Him: "You've been like this for the past 5 years, and you need to stop it now. I am tired of it."

Me, glaring, thinking "fuck you": "Okay"

So, now the mandated happiness must begin. But, again, how to find it, is beyond me.

Maybe a shake-up of moving to PA proportions is what I need.