Boy Time. Summer Time. Pool Time.

June 27, 2009 at 10:56 am (motherhood, rave, relationship)
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Zach spent the night the other night.  After I took over the office the next morning where they had been watching TV they spent the remainder of the time we were at home playing, without electronics.  I didn’t even suggest this so I was wonderfully pleased.  At the pool they played while I sat in a lounge chair considering options for the wedding ceremony.  I was able to just sit there in the shade and keep an eye on them without being in the water with a kid hanging off of me the whole time.  Honestly I needed a break from out usual swimming routine.  During an adult swim (no kids in the pool) the boys approached me wanting a ‘treat’ – something from the snack bar, not brought from home.  Sure.  They had been so well behaved.  I gave Aubrey a $5 and told them to split it and offered them the drinks they had chosen earlier. 

My darling son had been bugging me for several days about a soft pretzel.  Unfortunately his timing had been bad.  He had asked after he had been eating junk already that day or when we were packing up to leave the pool so we could go home and have dinner in less than 45 minutes.  So he timed it right (timing is another thing we have been working on).  I sat back down and watched them head for the snack bar.  Aubrey asked before their departure why I would not come with them.   “I do not want anything from the snack bar.  You two are big and can figure this out.”  A little while later I look up from my book and see the boys returning money in hand, no snacks.  Without hesitation Aubrey launches into an explaination that there was only one pretzel.  Oh, I think, how nice that he did not just feel entitled to the pretzel and leave Zach to figure it out with his half.  I look at Zach, “ Did you want a soft pretzel too?” I inquire.  “I didn’t have a chance to look at the full menu,” he explains.  Pause.

I suggest that they go back over there, look at the menu and each get something spending no more than $2.50 each.  In fact they did manage to work it out and Zach even brought me some change.

Later, back in the pool they swim right up to the edge directly in front of me.  Both of there little faces, with goggles on, smile up at me for a moment.  And away they go.

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Towels

June 27, 2009 at 10:27 am (essay, love, relationship)
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I was cleaning the microwave and having a conversation with my therapist, in my head.  Really, I wondered, how do people come to have so many emotions wrapped up in sweeping the floor or loading the dishwasher?   When I was married I thought it was all connected to my husband who, frankly, did almost nothing around the house.  That’s not how it started but as time passed lame ass excuses were ever more available.  All sorts of things from ‘I take care of the outside work’ to “I don’t know how’ were his reasons for not helping me with the house work.  Infuriated by the very idea that the same person who could take apart the internal workings of the washing machine, fix the problem and put it all back together so that it worked, could not put some clothes and soap in it and turn it on.  I don’t buy the ‘I can’t figure that out’ routine.  As to the whole division of labor being sorted by in the house and out side of it is absurd.  Even here in the Deep South the grass only grows seven, maybe eight months of the year.  Inside the tasks are daily, not weekly and go on and on all year long.  As a matter of fact they multiply during many of those very months the outside work doesn’t need to be done at all.  Now if, for example, he had been scraping and painting the house on an annual basis, pressure washing the concrete every month or so, maintaining the patio furniture and landscaping a beautiful Japanese garden, maybe then the division would have been closer to equal. 

It made since to me that a man who would leave trash on the counter 18 inches from the trash can would incite me to anger what I don’t get is why that anger is still so ingrained in me  now, three years after I left.   So many things that passed between us adhered themselves to me and made their nasty way into my over sized luggage. While we were together he always said ‘Tell me what to do and I will do it’ (I often wondered if he offered that same line to his boss at work.  That would probably not have gone any better than it did at home) Even though he was true to his word, he would do what I asked, the attitude he gave me while completing the task was one of a teenager torn kicking and screaming from their favorite video game to cut the grass at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon in August.  My choices were do it my self or pack up my bag I was going on a guilt trip.  And probably not just an overnighter.

So here I am in another relationship.  Older. Wiser.  With enough baggage I have to ask the airline for an exception on the maximum allowance.  Granted most of that I brought into the aforementioned marriage but I have always carried it my ownself.  And some how my luggage turned out to be, not a new and stylish full size suitcase but instead a hand me down steamer trunk.  Lovely but way more form than function.  It does not have that handy telescoping handle much the less swiveling wheels to make moving it easier.  I am beginning to think that the baggage is a lesson in and of itself.

In this new and improved relationship, much, much improved, I took on the household duties of my own volition.  Made sense to me because I did not bring money into the house (funny how that is the only thing with value, even in my own head) and I was here much of the time, with a much more flexible schedule than my girlfriend.  She worked a full time job, a part time job and was instructing a fitness boot camp five mornings a week.  Obviously the girl didn’t have a lot of time to mop.  On the other hand I was at home almost all day everyday.  Just made sense.

The first few days, well weeks really, she seemed mesmerized by someone cleaning the house, having clothes magically appear in their proper places all folded and smelling nice.  (I would have had a similar reaction.  No one has consistently done my laundry since I was eleven.)  Dinner was often well on it’s way to the table by the time she walked through the door from work.  Blog posts she wrote reflected her pleasure at all of these things.  Comments were made in conversation and even while watching TV.  I was thrilled to be able to bring that kind of warmth and pleasure to someone, to be in some way responsible for their smile.  Realistically I knew that in time that new novel feeling would wear off and then it would be appreciated but less enthusiastically.  After a while it would have been annoying to have that level of reaction to it.  It was all part of the natural progression of things if it had not followed that path it would have seemed fake, forced, rote and therefore meaningless to me.  More time went by and my taking care of all these tasks was now the natural order of things which was what I knew would happen, from the very beginning.

While I swam in such glowing praise knowing it would be short lived I examined my response to the situation.  Turned inward and had a closer look at my emotions about the process in general.  Even in this relationship when ever my girlfriend did any of the tasks I deemed ‘mine’ I felt a sense of guilt.  Even when she did these things unbidden by me.  My feeling was that if I had already done that then she would not have had to.  Dirty dishes, too much laundry in the hamper these were my failures.  Holding myself to the unreasonable standard that she should not need to ever wash a dish or fold a towel caused me to obsess about the housework.  Never mind that I was sick.  Never mind that the reason I was at home in the first place was that I was too sick to go out.

Months later my son finished the school year and came to stay for the summer.  Now my health was much improved, better living through chemistry, but now I had all the challenges of parenting added to my daily routine.  Pain level had decreased dramatically which made us all thankful however within a few weeks of that my energy took a dive and I was experiencing hypersomnia (the overwhelming need to sleep all the time).  The drugs I was taking for this were some what helpful but the results were far from what I had hoped for.  Additionally my partner and I were having other issues, job insecurity, mean awful boss. 

On a rare occasion I have cleaned to relieve stress.  This is not my usual MO so this situation did not inspire me to scrub the bathrooms and floors.  Stress, added to my health issues, and a nine year old who thought I should be at his beck and call, left the house work sliding down to the bottom of the list.  My struggle was between maintaining the things that were of most crucial importance, taking my girl’s pet peeves into account and not falling over in the floor from exhaustion.  Sometimes it worked out.  Other times, uh, well, not so much.  Still struggling with personal expectations it was a rare occasion I asked her to take on some household chore, other than helping with dinner and dishes which we have always done together, or taken it in turn. 

Sometimes I find myself standing in front of the dryer folding clothes and wondering if any of the people I am doing this for ever think about it.  Truth be told I know the answer to the question and it is mostly an emotion I have from previous experiences that have nothing to do with reality at this point in my life.  It is a habitual response.

All through this relationship we have discussed things, every kind of thing, chores included.  Kind words of thanks, genuine gratitude are not a rare occurrence here.  Gratefulness goes a long, long way with me.  I will pour out my heart and soul for someone I know appreciates it.  There in lies the problem.

D had a mountain of stress at work so I had been wracking my brain night and day to think of  things to cheer, her new things to do for her. More things to do for her.  After a while I began to feel exhausted from all this extra doing.  Following the exhaustion was a sense of not being appreciated for all I had done, not just for her but also for Aubrey.   (Not that she asked me to do any of it in the first place.)   Writing and posting a piece about that lead D to apologize for making me feel taken for granted.  Notes began to crop up in the usual places and I would smile whenever I found one.  But then I began to reflect on the whole thing.  The big picture.  This is one of the reasons I write, it helps me figure things out, and this one seems fairly significant.  Definite therapy fodder.  I cannot really blame Joe for any of this, I brought much of it with me into the marriage it is the crazy I collected in my childhood.  Instead of stamps.  I do all these things for the praise.  For the attention.  Positive affirmation.  Illnesses have brought me attention.  Leading a crazy, drama filled like has brought me attention.  But the kind I want, the kind I attempt to create by cooking a fabulous meal, mopping the floor, making the bed, writing a note, picking up little things I know they will like from the store, I do those things so that they will bring a smile to their face and a word of thanks to me.  That word of thanks, that bit of praise is what I am after. 

Human nature such as it is the more you do the bigger and more impressive the things you have to do to garner the same response. It’s like crack, you need more and more to get that high.  So here I am working myself into a dither not just to make them smile but to gain their attention.  To hear positive, kind words.  The words I have heard too little of all my life.  Acknowledgement that I am a good partner, a good mother, a good daughter, a good friend.  Word that affirm I am loved, wanted, worthy, desired.

No matter how many words are said to me, no mater how kind they are, words cannot fill that space.  I know better than to think that they can.  Only I can fill that space.  Mine is the only opinion that really matters in the end.  How I feel about myself and how I fulfill all the roles I have chosen in my life either creates or closes the void.  Apparently I have work to do, not for others to bring a smile to them, I certainly cannot make them happy, but for me because I am the only one who can make me happy.  If only if was as easy as laundry, or notes, or, oh please, as easy as pie.  I know exactly how to do all of those things, I do them all the time.  I am less familiar with doing things that make me happy.  Things that make me feel worthy, successful.  Things that reassure me in my soul that my head is not always right.  I am too hard on myself which makes it difficult to feel like I am doing it right.  Like I am the person I want to be.  In most ways I am confident and in most ways I like me it is those few things where I feel I fall short.  Those things nag at me in a constant, grating sort of way like a leaky faucet.  But that just takes me back to the previous metaphor.   I know where the hardware store is, I can replace the gasket and make the leak stop.  If only fixing those things in my head, in my heart, if only it were so easy.

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Lucky Dog

June 23, 2009 at 4:57 pm (love, rave, relationship)
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I recently told a friend of mine that D and I are engaged.  “You lucky dog,” she exclaimed.  Well, I quite agree.  She hit that one on the head.  There is no perfect relationship but we are really fabulous together.

On the phone the other day Joe and I were working out details for the Fourth.  He was contemplating out loud who he might invite to watch fire works with Aubrey and him.  Kelli had been over to his house several days before that and they sat up late drinking.  Frankly that in and of itself got under my skin because now my darling son ‘is not taking sides.’  I did not want him to be violently angry with his aunt but let’s face it after all that has happened I would at least like my child to be on my side.

Anyway Joe told me he was certainly not going to invite Kelli to the fire works because two days after her visit she asked if she could move in.   (He told her no)   I commented that I wasn’t about to tell him what to do but I did want to express my concern about Aubrey being around her.  “You know how she can be,” I said.  “No, I don’t,” was his blunt reply.  He basically said Kelli was no worse to me than I was to her.  I did not say anything.  Later D and I were chatting and I relayed the conversation to her.  Expressed how much it hurt me.  Validating my feelings she told me I could vent to her as much as I needed.  So I did.  In the moment I was grateful but in retrospect that offer has even more meaning to me.   Acceptance, validation and having a partner who always takes my side has been rare, well not so much rare as it has never happened before.  Being willing to commit to my side, what ever that may be, to choose me, to love me unconditionally, what an amazing gift.

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If you have been reading our posts lately you know we have been having some difficulty navigating the co-parenting thing.  In the past few days we have actually begun to crack that nut.  Today we have been working on an issue that arose in the middle of dinner last night.  We sat texting back and forth brainstorming solutions, discussing our approach and coming up with a plan. I have never had that either.  A person that takes an active part in the parenting process with me.  It was fantastic.  We are bringing our usual way of working well together into our parenting.  It will be a process but at least we are finding a way to do it as a team.

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This afternoon I took Aubrey to the pool. (After I drug him all the way to my therapy appointment and made him sit quietly in the waiting room for an hour by his little lonesome.)  From my lounge chair I sat watching him.  We have been working so much on his swimming skills.  Which, btw, were almost non existent at the beginning of the summer.  He would cling to me if I tried to hold him up in a swim like position, did not want to put his face in the water and the only ‘stroke’ he would attempt was the doggy paddle.  Joe’s parents have a pool to which Joe takes him almost every Sunday all summer long and has for the past four or more years.  I have not been on these pool excursions and last summer I did not make it to the pool even one time so it came as a surprise to me that the boy could not swim.  Now, a few weeks into the summer (read a few weeks with the mommies) and he is working on an actual swim stroke, we bought him some goggles and now he is going under water to swim, holding his breathe, learning not to hold his nose and it’s a whole new day.  So he was playing by himself in the pool, diving under water and having a grand time.  He looked up and said ‘watch me’ oblivious to the fact that I had been watching him the whole time.

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New. Parent.

June 20, 2009 at 10:41 am (IMO, motherhood, ramble, relationship)
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We helped host a baby shower recently and had a fabulous time doing it.   Cooking is something we do very well together.  There was a couple there with a five week old baby both filled with the wonder of this tiny person that had so altered their lives.  Amazed.  Every word they spoke was charged with the profound experience they were having already, and she had only been with them for just over a month.  Fortunately for them she is already sleeping through the night, I jokingly told the Mommy I hated her but of course I don’t, I get to sleep now too and that is all that matters.  What they don’t know, and I was not about to tell them, is that sleep habits can change just like every thing else about this precious little doll they eat, sleep and breathe.  She’s all they talk about.

Later it was time for the Mommies to be to open gifts.  Long ago I developed a tendency to stand as far back as possible because I know it is almost impossible for me to censor myself, especially after several Mimosas.  And it’s better if these about to be parents don’t hear me, at least not yet.  New parents amuse me.  Probably because I was among the worst.  Before actually having my own baby I was convinced I needed ALL this stuff in order to be able to care of the little thing.  Could have easily skipped about half of it but no one, I mean no one, can tell a new parent they don’t NEED a diaper genie.  Truth be told you can’t tell new parents anything.  Even though they ask frequently for advice.  It is like dating, you just have to do it and figure it out.

D and one of the Mommies from the shower are in the same workout group so when the other other Mommy didn’t show up D certainly took notice.  Later on D spoke to her and in their conversation learned that the mommy to be was FREAKING out.  Yeah, that’s to be expected.  D made some comment about how it was a lot to take in, after the shower and all that stuff in their house.  She is not the mommy carrying the baby, it seems very real to the one who is gestating, from very early on.  Pregnant mommy’s to be have all that stuff their partners are worrying about and the OMG this thing had to get OUT of my body, thing going on.  I replied to D that it would be oh so much more to take in when the little one is crying at 3am and they can’t figure out why. ‘So glad that’s not me’ my girl responded.  Yeah, uh huh.

D and I have this ongoing disagreement about how to rear the boy.  Ever since he was born I have had people telling me I am doing it wrong.  I should do it this way.  I have several things to say about that.

I know him better than anyone.  Ever.  I have been doing this for more than nine years; most people after doing something for nine years have a pretty good idea how to do it. 

I don’t tell her what to do, not what to eat, what to wear (unless she asks), when to go to bed, how to conduct herself at work and frankly by comparison those are small things.  On the other hand she feels pretty comfortable telling me what to do, even though she admittedly knows almost nothing about it.  Not been around kids.  I have spent more time with this child than I have with any one else in my adult life.  I figured out how to cope with the sleeplessness, the crying, the clingy always wanting Mommy baby, the nursing all the time (which was something only I could do), the throwing up, the first days at school, the stubborn refusal to…, well lots of things, the bullies at school, I talked him down through more situations than I could ever begin to relay, I held his hand through the break up of his parents marriage, I explained to him what it meant to be queer, I did all of this and a hell of a lot more and I did it without support from my partner, who is his father.  I did it while family and friends questioned my parenting choices.  I did it while other parents shot disapproving looks at me.  I did it because I knew it was the right thing to do.  Because I have a profound connection with him and I parent from my gut, from my soul.  No parent is ever going to get it right all of it all the time but I will tell you there are few things in this world that I am more certain of than the fact that, most of the time I get it right.

Many people have told me that I don’t take parenting criticism well.  None of them were parents.  Before I had Aubrey I loathed and despised people telling me I didn’t know, I wasn’t a parent.  To some small degree I knew what I was talking about from being around kids so much, from all the things I did to help rear my nieces and nephew but for the most part, they were right.  I hate to admit that, but it’s true.  I also hate to admit that it is also true that I do not take parenting criticism well.  Advice maybe.  Suggestions, probably.  Being told what to do.  Never.  Not under any circumstance.

I never question D’s motives I know she has our best interest at heart.  She sees a problem and thinks if we do X it will fix it.  I am not sure how to explain to her that it does not work that way.  For one thing it is not Aubrey that makes me tired at the end of the day.  I am not suggesting that he does not contribute, but  sometimes I have spent a full day on the go with the boy and been fine.  Sometimes we spend the day at home and I am exhausted beyond words.  These things are better attributed to the illnesses that wreak havoc on this body of mine.  Plenty of days during school, when Aubrey wasn’t even here she arrived home to find me completely worn out.  Sometimes she blames it on dinner.  She tells me not to wear myself out making dinner.  Plenty of the time I don’t because I am already too tired to even contemplate it.  Or maybe I just didn’t get to it because I was out doing things and didn’t make it home in time to cook before she arrived.  The point is there are many reasons things happen.  Most of them don’t have anything to do with Aubrey.

Obviously we have been going round and round about this for some time.  At one point I thought I would do what I do at those showers.  I figured if I could hang back let her see how it really works she would come around, after all you can’t tell new parents anything.  But then it occurred to me why we really are not making much progress.  She is not the one.  It’s one thing to sit on the bench and tell someone how to do something a completely different experience to be the one trying like hell to figure it out and knowing it all gets pinned on you if it goes wrong and that you will not get the glory if you do your job well, your kid will.

We keep talking about it.  She tells me that every time she makes any kind of suggestion I shoot it down.  Most of what I am hearing, whether it was intended that way of not, is criticism.  Praise for how I handled any given situation is rare.  About the only person who tells me I did something well as a parent, handled something very challenging with grace and wisdom, is my therapist.  Occasionally my two closest friends, both with kids Aubrey’s age, both with boys, say ‘Way to go’ and criticism from them is rare.  Mostly I think because they are both dead center in the middle of it right there with me.  Frankly they don’t want that microscope turned around on them.  If you are looking for something good, you will find it.  The reverse is also true.

I remember an afternoon the three of us spent together.  It was a time before I had my cane, but really needed it so I was leaning on D a lot, both for walking and for picking up the slack with Aubrey.  We had some trouble at our favorite coffee shop with very hot beverages.  There was a little problem at the park concerning a ball. Pressure at the restaurant to make choices without input knowing that what ever way it went it would be on her shoulders.  By the time we arrived home she was diving for running clothes and declaring this was freaking hard. ‘What if it is always this hard?’ she asked.  ‘It won’t be,’ I replied.  Only half lying.  Once you become accustomed to it the whole thing is less overwhelming but it is always hard.  Parenting is hard.  Decisions have to be made, there is no book to give you the answers.  The answer is different for every child.

So like the ongoing conversations I have with Aubrey, teaching, learning, listening, speaking, crying, laughing, yelling or whispering.  The conversations continue between D and I also as we carve a new path where we can all three go together.  The landscape varies widely and every terrain calls for a different approach.  Flexible participants are the most successful.

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What’s That Saying? Actions or Words?

June 18, 2009 at 1:59 pm (IMO, motherhood, rant, relationship)
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In a way I sort of resent that saying, being a writer and all.  Lately I feel like I am pouring my heart and soul out to the two people I love the most.  Every ounce of energy I have (I get that isn’t a whole lot) I expend doing thing that I think will make them more comfortable, bring a smile to their face, brighten their day- even for just a moment.  Generally I adore doing these things.  Acts of kindness are little gifts, tiny ways of showing someone that you care about them, that you were thinking about them.  These are things I most often relish doing but lately I am not feeling it.

Yesterday when D got home she noticed something was not right with me.  I agreed, I was feeling a little off.  Although I knew there was a nagging sense of something amiss I couldn’t place what it was.  A while back I wrote about all the things I have been doing all these months to try to boost moral.  Observing all the struggles I was constantly working to think up new and helpful acts of kindness.  And that I was kind of tired from it.

Aubrey was supposed to be writing a letter to his dad about something he enjoyed about their relationship.  Attempting to be helpful I made some suggestions.  Why, you may be wondering, am I directing the letter writing to the man who has not done one fucking thing anything for me as the mother of his child, on Mother’s Day, except twice in Aubrey’s whole life?  Because Aubrey wanted me to help him do something for his dad for Father’s Day and while I can suck it up and take the high road I draw the line at spending any real money on this so I wanted the boy to make something.  Hemming and hawing over the letter I responded,  ‘Fine, do what ever you want.’  Turning from the fridge to place something on the counter that was to be a part of our lunch I see the pouting face and then heard the customary refrain, ‘You make me feel bad about it.’  While it is impossible for me to convey the level of irritation this comment made if you have a child you have a pretty good idea.

The discussion goes on for a minute and then some how it has shifted.  Aubrey had closed slammed the notebook he was writing in which happened to be the journal I decorated for him to write in this summer.  Thought maybe it would make it more fun.  Thought he liked it.  He was in the middle of expressing to me how mad he had been with me  the other day and held up the notebook so that I could see it.  While he was mad he wrote mean things on the front of the journal.  Immediately following the protest writing he asked me if I would please not read certain parts of his journal because he had been angry when he wrote it and I explained to him that it was his journal and he could write anything he wanted to inside it.  I really meant that inside part.

Evaluating the situation while I felt the hurt and anger rising I began to contemplate what I was going to say.  What I was going to do.

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.” Was his constant refrain.

“Stop saying that,” I insisted.

Insert broken record here.  Once again I told him that there are consequences for your actions and the consequences he had to face were that I was upset and he had been the cause of that.  Explaining for the 943,278th time that it is not my job to shelter him from the challenges and pains of life but to help him learn how to cope with them I told him that I was not going to pretend not to be upset I also went further telling him that I had decorated that for him to make a task he didn’t really like as fun as possible.  Tears streamed down his little face mirroring my own emotions.

Suddenly I felt that I did all these nice things, thought frequently of how to make things easier, more fun, to remind my family they are loved, supported, cared for and I wasn’t sure what the point was.  Does it even make any difference at all?

Okay I know it does but I feel like I work and work and work at all the Mommy, and Wifey things and I get the ‘thanks,’ which is great, which is better that I had before, but right now, at least for the moment I want more.

If you have read D’s blog you know we do not see eye to eye on rearing the boy.  We have spent many hours in conversation about it.  I hear that I am defensive.  I hear that I shoot down her suggestions.  I hear criticism.  I hear how I am doing it wrong and here’s how to do it better. 

We have a sort of rule that we only discuss one issue at a time when we don’t agree on something and we need to work through it.  Bringing up 27 issues is counterproductive.  It only creates hurt feelings and muddied waters.  However, I am going to bring up something else because for me it all sort of ties in together.  All the nice things I do for her I always receive a thanks.  I am grateful for that.  The problem lies in that for every one word of gratitude I hear I hear 30 words of complaint.  Maybe just 20. These are not all complaints about me but over a long enough time line it sort of begins to blur a little.  Point is the scales are tipped and I cannot boost anyone else up because I have sunk into my very own quagmire. 

Occasionally it feels like a no win situation.  Cook dinner, make sure there are no dishes in the sink, feed the cats, make the boy stretch his independence = exhausted me = unhappy D when she arrives home because I’m so tired.  Don’t make dinner, skip the dishes, ignore the cats, let the boy do his own thing and take a nap = rested me = unhappy D when she arrives home because the cats are yowling, there are dishes in the sink and no dinner and the boy is spinning like a top.  Most of the time we do manage to strike the correct balance and I think it is getting better but on those days we don’t, yikes.

After reading D’s post about the boy I began one of my own.  This may replace it, at the very least it will alter it.  Working out all this parenting stuff is extremely challenging for both of us (on top of ALL the other things going on) and by the time we really sort it out it will be time for him to go back to Joe’s and school.  Over the course of the school year most of what I have worked so hard to accomplish with Aubrey will be undone by his dad.  I know how this works I have seen it soo many times.  Next summer we will have some remediation but it will come back and we will move forward.  At some point I want to have him here full time, all the time, but that is not now so I have to work with what I have.  What I want is to feel like other’s place some value in what I do.  Don’t give me that ‘rearing a child is so important’ crap I want people to acknowledge how fucking hard this is and this isn’t an answer I would like in 10 words or less.  Maybe I don’t want it in words at all.

It will be years before Aubrey begins to understand what I have done, what I have sacrificed, how hard I worked.  Comes with being the mommy.   Maybe that’s all there is.  Maybe I just need a break.   All this has worn me out. 

I’ll have a nap please, hold the guilt.

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When I was Your Age

June 17, 2009 at 9:39 am (motherhood, rave, relationship)
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My child threw himself across my bed with a huge huffy sigh and looked at me with such utter dejection.  Disappointment was more than obvious.  It really was a good thing I think, for several reasons.  While I am a staunch believer in letting kids learn from the natural consequences of their actions I have been in the nasty habit lately of trying to shield him from every hurt. 

Granted in the past couple of years he has had some real challenges, hard life things to cope with.  Which just goes to show no matter how hard to try it is impossible to keep them from all of life’s hurts so the best thing to do is not shield them from the pain but teach them how to cope.  what to do to handle these hard things.  He has handled them smashingly. 

On the other hand here was my kid giving the Grand Pout because the store we went to did not have the thing he wanted.  As a parent there are only so many things you can control.  The inventory of your local mega mart is not one of those things.  Since the universe has seen fit to prevent me from catering to my son’s every whim I was unable to drive to another store across town where the coveted item might be.  Which is why we were at home.

I stood there at the foot of my bed contemplating my scowling, annoying beloved offspring, I did not say anything just stood there and stared.  That always makes him more than a little uncomfortable.  And then I spoke, which is often more uncomfortable that the staring silence.

“I’m glad,” I stated simply.

“Glad about what?” he inquired, ready to go on the defence at any second.

“That this is your big problem.  That having to do a little research and wait a couple of days to have this thing is the most trouble you have had today.  Likely the most you will have this week.” I continued, knowing I had not really explained what I meant.

He looked at me, the tone in his voice and body language had changed, still (more) ready to pounce.

“What do you mean?” he asked, it is his constant refrain these days.

“When I was a kid my mom would not have immediately started helping me to solve the problem about the cards she would have just told me ‘Oh well’ and there would have been no more conversation about it, none at all.  But that was the least of it.  Some times she would yell and scream horrible mean things to me.  But at least she was there.  Tracy, whom I loved like you love me, would tell me she would come and get us on the weekend and may she would, just as likely though, she wouldn’t show up or even call.  So while I also cried about not getting the toy I wanted I also had much more longings.  I have worked very hard so that you could be a kid, with kid problems.” I finished.

He looked up at me.  He did not roll his eyes or blow me off the way he has so many times.  He said, “I’m glad you are my mom.  I will take the card problem.”

Smiling at his response I sat next to him on the bed and leaned over so that I could kiss his forehead. 

Aubrey often tells me that he is pleased to be my kid, grateful that I am his mom, that he loves me.  All of these things just come out of the blue.  Most frequently when he is about to do something he really wanted to do and I helped make that happen but yesterday he said he was glad I was his mom while we were unloading the dishwasher.  Wow.  I must say that made me smile.  Maybe it was from all those times I told him how much I wanted him, how long I waited for him, how much I love him.  To hear him tell me that, unprompted while doing chores, well, that felt so good, so genuine, so from the heart.

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And so I Propose…

June 12, 2009 at 3:00 pm (love, rave, relationship)
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Months ago I began to think about my relationship with D and what I wanted it to be in the future.  Often we share our thoughts about long term goals and aspirations with each other.  When we speak about our futures we include the other as if it were a given that she will always be there.  That we will always be together.  Contemplating this I decided that I wanted to partake in the conventions of society, in so far as we can, so I decided to ask D to marry me.

I thought, I wrote (of course), but I could not post what I had written and for a long time I did not share this decision with anyone.  My imagination ran a little wild with the ‘how’ and ‘where’.  Yet I believe the ‘when’ was what I grappled with most.  In the beginning it seemed some far off fantasy, this thing I would do eventually.  And then one day I made a turn on my journey that made me feel that the time had come.  So I began to make real plans, not fanciful ones that I could never actually make happen, though the idea seemed fabulous.  For weeks I looked for a ring.  Here in town I shopped, online I shopped until I finally had it narrowed to two rings.  It was Aubrey who made the final decision, not knowing what the ring was for.  When the ring came the ‘when’ seemed even more problematic.  I grappled with the current situation.  Should I ask her in the middle of all this craziness?  Patients is something I am lacking in however the heart of the timing question came down to my own philosophy on life.  Carpe Diem.  There are few ‘perfect’ times.  Perfect is rare, almost to the point of being a fairy tale, like fair, who lives at the North Pole with Santa.  Life is short, do the things that bring you joy, as soon as possible, as often as possible.

So knowing that I wanted it to be soon I had to figure out the how, which was inextricably bound to the where and probably would have something to do with the when.  Mulling possibilities over in my head I began to bounce a few off a couple of friends I have.  Both straight and married for over a decade, these are the women I have shared so much of my life with so that is where I turned when met with such a huge opportunity to create a great story, a wonderful memory of a fabulous moment between us.  Damn that’s a lot of pressure.  To add to the pressure that I felt I knew when she proposed she took the girl to New York, with plans to propose in the Empire State Building.  No way was I going to compete with that, who know when we might be in Paris and I could ask her in the Eiffel Tower.  Fantasies I had about proposals all centered on something I had written, like the book I have yet to finished, much less published.  But all of those things made me realize that maybe my actual proposal should include something I had written. So I wrote, on a pillow case we accidentally brought home from Pensacola, we went out to the bar where we met, she actually wore the shirt she had on that night.  A friend from down the street came over and lit all the candles in our bedroom and placed the scrawled on pillow case –with an actual pillow in it- on our bed while we were on our way home.  It took her a while to make it to the bedroom so it was lost on her that the candles had been lit while we were out.  She also paused to brush her teeth before coming to sit on the bed and noticing the pillow.  But it went fine from there.  And of course, most importantly, she said yes!  Oh and the ring, too small.  So we will have to either mail it back to exchange it, which will probably take three weeks or more, or see if we can have it sized.  But, most importantly, we are going to get married!!! I am so excited.

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The Cave. The Mountain. The River. The Path. A Journey.

June 8, 2009 at 10:48 am (observation, relationship)
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Friday morning Aubrey and I began packing as soon as we were finished with breakfast.  Printing out the lists I had made the previous day I began adding to it, made Aubrey a packing list so that he could collect his own things for the trip and started gathering items from the kitchen that we needed and placing them on the stove top.  For a little while I went back and forth between helping Aubrey and working on my things and the family things that needed to go.  After taking it about as far as we could we paused for lunch and then made a trip to the store to the gather the remaining items.  All through Wal-Mart Aubrey was pacing around like a caged animal.  All over everywhere.  My brain is drawn in many direction: pick your battles, where are the damn Ziploc bags, focus – yeah well no amount of focus is going to help me remember that word, rephrase the sentence.  I lower my voice to almost a whisper to prevent myself from screaming.  (It is a thing I used to do when Aubrey was little and driving me off my rocker, I have since lost the rocker in the divorce)   “Sweetheart, please, there are lots of people in the store so you moving all around all over the isles makes it more difficult for them to do their shopping.”  This keeps him still, right behind the cart where I asked him to remain for about 37 seconds.  Just get finished, I think.  It is a documented fact that it requires more energy for a child to be still than it does for them to move.  I remind myself of this frequently.  Especially while shopping. 

We were down to the last item but it was on the far side of the store.  Aubrey suddenly grabed his foot and began hopping on the other telling me his foot hurt.  I began the ‘is there something in your shoe, do you have a cramp, what kind of pain is it?’ routine and after a little hobbling and little more whining I convince him we can make it across the store to retrieve the final item, so that we can leave. 

And then I have a momentary lapse in sanity.  Have you ever heard of a ‘teachable moment’?  It is supposed to be a time when circumstances make a person more able to learn a particular concept.  Deciding this qualified as a ‘teachable moment’ I shared with Aubrey that I can identify with this pain because I was in pain, something like his own,  for well over a year.  When Mommy is sick it usually involves a large amount of pain. “Well not like this,” he cuts across me.  Now my son has just done what I would in many circumstances stop what I am doing and explain EXACTLY what I meant and how I felt and what I thought about that statement.  The insinuation that I am not in nearly as much pain as they are.   Might have even thrown something if it was handy, but this is my child and he is 9 so I take a very deep breath and explain to him that yes, I am in that kind of pain.  I also mention that lots of people tell me just what he said and how it affects me.  Less than a tiny fraction of what I said was absorbed by the large, otherwise sponge like, hair covered thing on his shoulders but I ignored that fact, put some charcoal in the cart and checked out.

When we had everything unloaded into the house I began pulling things out of bags and ordering the offspring, who had made a full recovery by this point, to do things so that he could go camping.  He was overall a very willing indentured servant.  We were within site of being finished when I pulled out my phone to relay this info to D when I read: On my way.  I knew she was at least close by the time stamp on the text but I replied: Great.  Yeah, she was in the carport unloading the truck.  She came in and was unloading and then loading things so quickly I couldn’t keep up.  We did manage some details very well, with out any conversation at all.  I placed a cold soda for each of us at the top of the cooler, first thing you see when you open the lid and offered crackers all round.  She made a neat, tidy place for the cooler to perch all the way in the back so we would have easiest access. 

The drive up was pretty standard.  Traffic on the way out of town but then smooth the remainder of the trip.  We ate our first fast food together, ever, at Wendy’s with two bus loads of Baptists.  When we arrived and I saw where the ‘cabins’ (and I use that term loosely) were and I was not thrilled.  Somehow I had imagined the cabins not being stuck here and there at random right by the main road that went through the entire camp.  Our cabin was right next to the swing set and basketball court.  Several expletives passed through my very tired brain.  The cabin was tiny, I expected that.  Only two of the cabins even have bathrooms so I knew it was only a tiny step up from camping.  Meaning we didn’t have to bring the tent or walk to the bathhouse.  We didn’t have to zip and unzip the door.  We had a bed, not an air mattress.  We had a porch and chairs.  The problem for me was that my dearest friend, the one we were camping with, had called the night before, while I was reading to Aubrey, and asked if we could switch cabins.  The only differences I knew there were between them was the configuration of the beds and that one had linens and the other did not.  Fine.  I will pack linens.  Well the differences were much more considerable to say the least. 

After we unpacked the truck I stretched out on the bed for a minute and fell immediately asleep.  Shocking.  Not.  D was great, of course, she took Aubrey and kept him entertained while I had a nap.  It made all the difference in how I was able to function for the remainder of the day.  Our friends arrived, we hung for a bit, made a bit of a plan for the next day and went to bed.  Lights out, D and I snickered and giggled and were reprimanded by the boy, which just made me laugh that much more.

Saturday after breakfast we all went up to check out the activities we had planned, the things we knew they had to do there.  Everyone went in the gift shop and began looking around.  The kids wanted to pan for various things so we did.  Aubrey is still mesmerized by his haul. (Being an only child he got to pan for both fossils and gems)  By the time that was drawing to a close the grown folks were discussing the next options.  D needed some time to herself.  We had talked about this before we even left home and I told her she was free to do what ever she wanted but that I wanted her to be present for the cave tour and the go cart racing.  The rest I didn’t really care.  Well timing being what it was she was at her wits end about the time we were heading for the cave.  Even on her best days she is not happy in a group of kids.  Even if it are only three and one of them is sort of hers.  I wanted her to go on the tour with us. There are things I want to do, as a family.  But I could see it in her eyes that she needed the space so I put it aside and told her to go, take her time, take care of herself.  So she left in search of a trout stream and we headed into the cave.  It was fabulous.  Pictures can never convey what it was like.  The formations we not only amazing to see but to contemplate how they came to be was even more so.  There are times when I focus all my attention on Aubrey.  Others all my attention is given to D, sometimes I give it to my work or my self but there are times and events and activities I want to share with my family.  This was one of those.  I have no particularly rational reason for wanting to share those two specific things with them but I did. 

Last night we were watching TV and one of the characters had this thing for having everything just so.  I admitted that I used to be that way but then I realized that is not how life works.  There are too many things a person cannot control. Truth be told though I still have some element of that in me only now I see it in a different light.  Now it is not about having the food and décor just so at holidays.  It is not about having a Better Home and Gardens house.  I have even had to figure out how to cope with not having my face just so (but that is another story).  There are a multitude of things I have no control over.  D and I are learning similar lessons about what we can and cannot control, in very different ways.  True I cannot control many of the things that happen around me but sometimes I want things.  Life is brief and often challenging and I wanted to put those hard things away for an hour and contemplate the mysteries of the cave with my two favorite people.  There are so many metaphors for life in that cave.  All the rock formations are connected but they were created in different ways.  Time and space are on a scale I found impossible to grasp but these are the ways of the universe.  The cave was deep both literally and spiritually for me.

Out into the light of day again our little group, minus my girl, (she had not found that stream she was looking for and so followed a different trail) had lunch and planned our next things.  Swimming or racing would be up next.  I text her that.  Her reply was that she was feeling better and would be back soon.  I hoped she would join us at the track and that the three of us could race.  Aubrey wanted to race her.  Truth be told so did I. 

On our first time out I saw her standing at the fence taking pictures of us as we came around.  I was pleased.  Aubrey had been the last one to have his car started and come out of the pit, however, he was the first one the guy running the thing decided to wave in.  Well it is difficult to stop if you don’t know it is you final lap and you need to slow down on that last stretch.  Additionally the guy was using hand signals because it is very hard to hear over the noise all those go carts create.  Hand signals are good.  I taught Aubrey to sign when he was a baby, the problem this guy had was he failed to mention to any of us what his hand signals meant.  So Aubrey comes down the final stretch thinking he is going to take another lap and the guy signals him in.  Somehow he understood but then he had to think of about 12 things all at once and this was his first solo drive in the go cart.  So he crashed into the guard rail.  No harm done I am certain it happens all the time.

And then it all went to shit. 

As I got out of my car I knew that the guy running the race had not been happy with my friend’s son, he crashed into everyone and the rail in several places on the track and the guy had to go out and move his car because of the way he hit the rail.  In my mind these are two very different things.  In his mind the result is the same, neither boy was allowed to drive solo again.  I was pissed.

D came up to me and I gave her a hug.  Asked if she wanted to join us.  No, she said.  So here I was disappointed that she wasn’t going to join us for the other thing I wanted her to do with us and livid at the guy for not letting Aubrey drive again.  Aubrey was so upset.  He was so angry.  He had been looking forward to this for months, knowing he would be tall enough and could finally, after all his years of riding shot gun, be the driver.  I took him on another round, gave him some driving tips but then realized none of that mattered.  He wasn’t going to drive today and nothing I said was going to be retained because he was so pissed.  We jumped out of the car grabbed my stuff and headed back, despite the other passes I had to drive.  On the way back to the cabin I told Aubrey we could be really mad for the next 20 minutes but then we were going to put it away for later because we didn’t want that to ruin our trip.  We raged and cursed but when we arrived at the cabin D was sitting on the porch and all these emotions I had about all the things that had occurred over the past hours, days, weeks, months swirled together like a whirlpool that I was caught in the middle of.

Leaving Aubrey on the porch we went inside and talked for a while, I cried.  Aware that Steph was expecting us at the pool and that the kid was sitting right outside the window, probably able to hear everything we said I knew it was not the time.  Changing into swim wear we headed for the pool.  D went with, sans swim suit.  By the time we arrived the Wrights had been there for a while so it wasn’t long before they were over it.  Back down to the cabin and little more wrangling and we decided that I should take Aubrey down to Steph to take her up on her prior offer to keep him for a while so I could just chill.

Then things between us began to whistle like my espresso maker when the steam has built up too much pressure and can’t get out fast enough.  D and I both feel that bringing up a long list of things you’re ticked about in one conversation is dirty pool.  Usually this is not a problem for me but I was still in that whirlpool and had no idea how to convey what I was feeling.  ‘Honey, there is a tornado in my head created by all the crazy shit we are dealing with right now,’ might give some idea of my emotional state but does nothing to work through it.  Defensive, overwhelmed, angry, disappointed, frustrated, sad, these are a few of the things that I think both of us had spilling out of us like hot lava.  There is only so much heat and pressure any structure can withstand and we had our fill.  After an hour and half of taking everything the other one said as a personal attack, not that she meant it that way we finally decided to stop talking and have sex.  If you have already been to D’s blog I am sure (even without having read what she wrote because I have not read it yet) you know about our new agreement.  If we begin fighting and it is not just a conversation but one of those times when no matter what is said it is taken wrong then we should have a time out.  Have sex.  If then we are still angry and want to continue the conversation we will.  If not, problem solved.  The thing is we did that.  We stopped arguing and had sex.  It did not solve the issues, we did not expect it to but it helped us reconnect and remember we are on the same team.  Over time we will talk about those things that are bothering us.  But not all the things at once.  Not when we are overwrought.  It’s like not having these types of talks while drinking. It’s just not a good plan.  Last night we talked a little about one thing.  We will get to the rest.  If it is something real and not just something we thought we saw when the rain was blowing everything sideways and it was dark out.  Those are shadows. 

So we learned many things.  Camping is not for D.  Aubrey and I still like it.  Sex is a great way to blow off steam.  (puns always intended)  Gain perspective.  We have some spiritual beliefs in common that I did not know we shared.  We are often on the same wave length even when we don’t feel super close to each other. – While she was off hanging on her own she bought me a necklace.  While she was off hanging out on her own I bought her a necklace.  I learned that what she needs and what I need are bound to clash sometimes.  The landscape of the earth was created by pressure and storms, running water, drips, extreme heat and excruciating cold.  Most of what I see in that landscape, in the mountains and valleys, the caves and rivers I find splendid beauty in.  Relationships are like that sometimes too.  We are often pushed and pulled, pressured and tested.  These things shape our lives, create our landscapes.  Each of us has had our own journey, followed our own path, created our own place and now we are bringing those together.  In nature that is rarely done without all those extremes.  And so we grab hands and take the journey together, follow a path that is ours and create a place for three instead of individuals.  Much time will pass, we will have to face more elements but as we go our paths will weave in and out as we move together and separately.  Sometimes we will pause to look around and enjoy the scenery we have had a hand in creating.

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Extra. Extra.

June 4, 2009 at 4:47 pm (ramble)
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All the things that I have been meaning to do keep getting lost in the shuffle.  There is a misconception that many people have (me included sometimes) that ‘stay at home moms’ have soooo much time.  Now don’t get me wrong I can manage basic math.  If you have to go to work (I have done that too) you must spend 8-9 hours in and around your office plus commute and I don’t.  Why is it then that by 4 or 5 I am either running around like a crazy person trying to figure out dinner and looking around the house and wondering why on earth I can’t manage to keep it clean, or I am wiped out from the day to the point that I don’t even care because I’m too tired to lift my head?  Oh it’s those two silly diseases (or is it three?  More on that later) and all trips to doctors and pharmacies and phone call to both of the aforementioned places plus the insurance company and sometimes the disability attorney who, the last time I spoke to said my case was still ‘unassigned’ and that there was nothing we, and by that I mean the attorney’s office, can do about it.  I on the other hand feel somewhat differently about this coming to a positive conclusion so my thinking is there has to be something that can be done.  A constant, repressive if necessary, influx of letters is often effective.  Mental note to make time for that.

 On Tuesday I made an unexpected trip to the doctor’s office.  They were particularly busy on Wednesday when I already had an appointment in Lawrenceville and therefore suggested we come in Tuesday afternoon.  So I made the extra trip but still ended up waiting two and half hours.  On the upside Dr. Parris introduced me to a new doctor who I think he may be contemplating bringing into the practice, which would be a welcome addition.  My appointment went well.  If you are squimish about needles you might want to  skip down to the word in blue as you may not want to read this:  The reason I made the effort to pick up mid week and drag it on into the doc’s office was that I was fairly certain I had tendonitis in my left shoulder which had become so painful Monday evening I could not lift my arm over my head and let’s face it no matter how terrific the man is Dr. Paris cannot give me a shot through the phone.  An MA (medical assistant) came in to set up the injection tray and I asked Aubrey if it would bother him to see Mommy get a shot.  No.  Fine then.  So Dr. P and the new doc come in and he sits down in front of me and begins the familiar prep.  After spraying my skin with an analgesic refrigerant spray he injected the first needle, pushed some saline, unscrewed the syringe and reached for the other one filled with steroids.  We had all been talking and bantering back and forth when Aubrey pipes up “Do you have to leave that needle in my mom?”  Yes, it keeps me from having to get stuck twice in the same spot.  But thanks for your concern sweetie.

 Wednesday I went in for a sleep study orientation.  Did you know there are 84 documented sleep disorders?  Really I am fine with the fact that there are more that 80 ways your sleep systems can get fucked up out of whack, as long as none of them happen to me.  All full up here, no more diseases or disorders, thanks.  The sleep lab tech informed me that I get to stay for the long version of the study.  Because they think there is a decent chance I have narcolepsy.  OMG you have got to be fucking kidding me.   So on a Monday night I will arrive at 7.30 pm and on Tuesday evening at 5 pm I will be allowed to depart.  If you are going to be in the area and respond well to bribes let me know what it would take for me to get you to bring me over some lunch.  Yikes, two hospital meals.  Gross.  When ever I am at the hospital I make great efforts to avoid the food.  As a card carrying foodie and fan of Alton Brown I must say it is not Good Eats.

 On this rainy day I have had an extra kid.  Aubrey has been thrilled.  We went out for pizza, no he is not spoiled.  Ok that’s a ridiculous thing to say, the kid is spoiled.  Or is he?  If a child is well behaved are they really spoiled?  Doesn’t that mean ruined?  Ruined, no.  Indulged, definitely.  My child turned down the opportunity to go play and fish and hang out with this boy (P) and his family on Wednesday while I went to the hospital but P happily came over here to spend the day with almost no notice or promise of anything more entertaining than someone else’s stuff.  Personality differences.  Not that we don’t have cool stuff.  Aubrey and I began a little project yesterday with cardboard boxes, tape and markers.  (Wow, now that is cool stuff I know.)  It is a kitty city for our fabulous feline furballs.  Aubrey and P did not take an immediate interest in the construction project but once they did it lasted for hours.  So nice for me.  I went to take a nap, as I am highly prone to do.  (I think that has something to do with my doctors suspicions)  D called to give me an update on the job front.  It was pretty good, and better than the offer she received was the emotional and ego boost she got from the conversation that took place.  Sometimes that little extra goes a long way.

 My morning project was to get us really started on this whole camping trip preparation.  As much as I love to camp I loath and despise don’t really like the process of preparing to go.  Beginning with lists (which is so me) I made lists for what things we need to take for comforts like pillows and clothes.  (Well those may be just as much for other people’s comfort) Then moved on to food finishing with a break down of the activities we plan to do and how much they are going to cost.  It wasn’t as bad as I had imagined.  Tonight’s agenda is to begin dragging out all of these things so that we can make sure we have every thing.  Shopping is already planned for tomorrow.  This is one of those times I wish I could wiggle my nose and it would be done.  I can wiggle my nose but all I can accomplish with that is people giggling, maybe pointing, calling me Samantha and asking me to do it again.  If I could pack by a nose wiggle we could just move on to that last episode of Six Feet Under on the disc and send it back so that we can have another one on the way.

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Welcome to the Summer Routine…

June 1, 2009 at 7:42 am (ramble)
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So many things are going on right now it’s hard to narrow it down into some sort of cohesive piece.  In the past couple of days I have seen friends that I have been friends with for a very long time but have not seen much of lately.  Steph and I took the kids to Stone Mountain.  We used to get annual passes every year when they were little but we have not done that for several years.  Not only have the kids changed so much (obviously) since the last time we has passes but so has the park so it was a terrific day because it almost felt like everything was new and yet we know our way around.  We only did a few of the things they have there so we can spend many more days there exploring the other ‘new’ things.  The next day I spent with Leslie, none of our kids, just us shopping and talking.  It was a wonderful and rare experience.  They have passes to Stone Mountain as well so that will be fun too but she has three boys so it is a challenge to carry on any kind of conversation with the kids present because there are near constant interruptions.

Steph and I talked a lot about next weekend because we are planning a trip to Raccoon Mountain together, both of our families.  D and I went on our first trip and now we are going on our first family overnight and we are going with another family.  There are certain personalities one must be very careful about mixing, ask me how I know, but I am not at all worried about that on this trip.  All of our kids are extremely intrigued by rocks and gems and they just so happen to have those things there so we are all excited about that.

 This coming week I have an appointment for a consultation for a sleep study.  I am annoyed by all the tests we are doing lately but mostly I am accustomed to such things.  D on the other hand I think is sort of maddened by the whole thing.  However, I think her desire to yell at someone has less to do with medical things and more to do with work things.  It is a minute by minute thing for her right now to keep it check.  Everyday I am amazed by how well she is handling it.  Most people would have become complete assholes by now, as is evidenced by all the people she works with and I’m guessing most of them have maybe half, or less, the stuff going on at home that she does.  I would really loath living with them.  Personally I have to handle a hell of a lot of shit in my day to day life and sometimes I have unreasonable expectations of other people being capable of the same, and most are not, not even close . But in this case I am impressed by how well she is managing all this.  Some would say that is personal strength but I think there is more to it than that.  Keeping things balanced under that kind of stress requires the ability to talk yourself down when you are up on the ledge, the commitment to not take your shit out on others, willingness to keep looking for ways to stay positive,  find balance, new coping skills and refraining from drowning yourself in your favorite adult beverage.

 Adding to our regular daily dose of chaos we have Aubrey during the week now.  Before his arrival we had several conversations about what it would be like with him here and what we needed to do to make the transition as smooth as possible.  Like keep having those conversations.  So far so good.  At times Aubrey has expressed, not by verbal admission so much as by his continued requests to do every thing under the sunmore than we had planned, that he has not altered his expectations from weekend visits to living with us.  That will just take time.  He of course wants to eat out every day.  He wants to be entertained all day.  We are  working on both of those things because neither of them are going to happen.  As a pre school age child, Steph and I were admitting the other day, while we rode the train around the mountain, that we set the bar awfully high with our own respective kids.  The thing is last summer I had Aubrey but we didn’t do much because I was very sick and trying to figure  out how to pay the bills without a regular income.  But during his time with me recently we have done lots of things so that’s what he has come to expect desire.  Setting the proper expectation, which I did for several weeks before school ended, has not really had an effect on him yet.  It’s only been a week. The first day he was here I took him to lunch on the way home but no sooner had we left the café than my stomach began to hurt.  By the time we arrived home five minutes later I was desperate to crawl into the bed and go to sleep so that is what I did.  Instead of a fun ‘welcome to summer’ he got Mommy in bed all afternoon.  When he came in later he asked me why I only get sick when he is around.  Oh my, I thought.  Then I explained that I was actually sick much of the time when he was away I just did not call him and report my condition on a regular basis. “Oh,” he put it together, “no running commentary.”  “Nope,” I acknowledged.  No one gets full disclosure.  D comes the closest but if you have been reading this for very long you know well how I feel about a constant ticker about my personally health.  I think most people would feel the same but of course healthy people are not usually asked the same questions I am.

 I have been writing this post for days now.  So instead of it being the weekend when I began and I had some time to myself it is now Monday and I need to leave soon to pick Aubrey up, we have plans to go swimming.  I have found over the past couple of days that if I am really active it is easier to cope with the sleepiness.  Doesn’t help with the speech issues but hey I’ll take what I can get.

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