sueeeus

Thoughts whir about in my mind, spinning, spinning, spinning.  Sometimes fragments get caught for a moment, and I can get a glimpse of what they might be.  Mostly, they spin.  I’ve been collecting these fragmented pieces, bit by bit, and generally find myself thinking two things.

One.  He could have kept this boat afloat with only the tiniest of investments.  I could have kept the life pattern we had on steady hold for quite some time.  Years, or even decades. It wouldn’t have taken much, on his part.

Two.  Why did he not love me?

Ultimately, I’m glad, even relieved, that he didn’t try to invest that tiny bit of himself in us, because the outcome would have been only a half-lived life.  I don’t want a half-lived life.  I want to live fully.  To joy, and rejoice.  To howl with laughter so rich that it hurts.  To love and be loved.  So we’re all better off this way.  Truly.

But I think that I am also angry.  Angry that he didn’t love me.  He was free enough with those words, but not the substance that supports them.  Without that substance, how could those words carry any weight?  So yes, I’m angry, because what’s not to love?

The pragmatic part of me reasons that people are people and we’re all unique.  Different.  Sometimes we don’t mix well.  It’s just the way it is.

He’s angry too.  He wants nothing to do with me.  He’s angry that I rejected him, but he doesn’t seem to get that I (r)ejected him because he rejected me.

~*~*~*~

BB wanted to see him this weekend.  He kept asking about his dad.  We called and left messages.  We thought he might perhaps come by, but he didn’t call and he didn’t come by.  Sunday evening he did call, and BB was at the dining table playing with his Transformers.  “I don’t want to talk to him,” he said, and kept concentrating on his Transformers.

My heart wrenched, tied up and twisted inside of me.  It nearly took my breath away, and I tried not to let my expression change or show what I felt.  It’s hard to describe the thoughts and concerns those seven words produced.  I looked at my child, and wondered if he was just being five, or if there was a deeper hurt in there.  And I’ve been watching him ever since.  Gazing at him intently, but not so that he notices me.  Watching the way he plays, the way he acts.  He seems fine.  And yet.  Today when I picked him up from daycare, he looked melancholy and said  he didn’t feel well.  My aching heart.  I was cheerful and teased him and he snapped out of it within minutes, but it’s all new, this forlorn look.  Of course he knows to try to play me for whatever he can, be it getting out of picking up after himself, helping him finish his dinner, trying to stay up later or watch more TV.  But this time it was different.  Or else he’s learned a new trick.

I need to remain vigilant and be prepared to make countermeasures to any emotional distress he may be feeling.  I want to chase those demons away.  Be gone!  Leave my boy alone!

~*~*~*~

Today I saw a counselor, for the first time in my life.  Overall, I feel a bit frustrated by the experience.  We talked about several things, but the suggestions she gave me were nothing new.  More like strategies to address the symptoms, but nothing to seek to expose and address the root cause.  I know exactly what sorts of things I should be doing to make myself feel better and more whole.  Eat sensibly.  Exercise regularly.  Get enough sleep.  And so on and so forth.  I know these things.  Doing, that is the problem.  I want or need help bridging the chasm between knowing and doing.  Sure, I could eat sensibly, as long as I felt like it and nothing came along to make me feel otherwise.  Sure, I could exercise regularly, as long as I felt like it and nothing came along to make me feel otherwise.  Yes, there’s a pattern.  Sure, I could get more sleep, as long as I didn’t have a toddler who kicks his blankets off and gets cold and wakes up unhappy, with just enough consciousness to see me tucking him back in, after which he wails if I leave the room, so I’m left with the choice of letting him cry himself to sleep, holding him until he nods off again, or taking him to bed with me, and hoping he settles back to sleep.  I’m too blessed exhausted to do anything but the latter.  And how can I let him cry?  What could he be thinking, other than that he wants his mama to snuggle him until he doesn’t feel alone anymore, and why is she walking away and leaving him all by himself?  Some say they are just manipulating you, because they can get what they want when they cry, and to an extent I agree, but I can understand wanting someone to hold me until I don’t feel alone any more, so why is that not a valid interpretation of those tears he cries?

Tell me what you need so I can tell you what you need.  This counseling relationship is off to a rocky start.  Yes, I need to balance my life and take better care of myself.  Yes, I even know how to do those things.  But what I don’t know is why I don’t.  Other than, because I don’t feel like it.

Five is a great age!  So much personality shines through.  So much is said.  For instance.  Chatter chatter  chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter [pause for a breath] do-you-not-know-what-I-mean?  My other favorite is, “Is today tomorrow?”

I took a vacation day, pulled him out of daycare, and took him to the movies.  We were alone in the theee-AY-doe, which was good, since he wouldn’t sit still.  We started in the middle, moved to the very back, then the very front.  I think he had a good time.

He requested a cake with strawberries in the shape of a face.  It was a very creepy looking cake, but he was happy.

What better to mark the momentous occasion of one’s fifth birthday than losing one’s very first tooth!  The new one is practically already in.  It was very, VERY exciting to put the tooth under the pillow, and wait for the tooth fairy to come. Good thing his little brother woke up at 3 a.m., else that tooth fairy might not have lived up to expectations.

~*~*~*~

His birthday was last week, and I haven’t had any time to post.  Since then, he’s lost the second tooth!  He is very excited about his sudden wealth, and sad for me that I don’t have any teeth to lose, so the tooth fairy won’t be coming to visit me.

It is done.

I am officially single.

Not sure how I feel.  I don’t think it’s completely sunk in yet.

I’ve asked BB about his visits with his dad.  What is Daddy’s room like?  Where does Daddy sleep?  According to BB, it appears that his daddy is living with another woman, as in, not just sharing a house.  According to his dad, he is sharing the house with a family consisting of a husband, a wife, and a 5 year old boy.  BB says that the boy’s daddy doesn’t live there and he has a different place.  Oh, I just don’t know.  And do I care?  Not so much, really.  I just wish I could get a straight and honest answer.  And if it is true that he found someone to shack up with already, he could have at least had the courtesy to wait until we were actually divorced.  Which we are, now.

However.  Today I learned that Gadget never did go to the court-required parenting seminar.  I scheduled it for him originally, then rescheduled when he didn’t go, then forwarded him the information to show him the importance of completing a court-requirement (as in possible fines, contempt of court, blah blah blah), to which he rescheduled, then didn’t go, then rescheduled again, and then, apparently, blew off.  At least the court still let the divorce be finalized.  It’s his problem, if there are any repercussions.

The other thing that bothers me is that he suggested the kids spend the night next weekend.  I will have to say a resounding NO.  The parenting plan calls for every other Saturday, with no sleep overs.  And he’s supposed to provide his address and contact information at all times, yet, he won’t give me his address.  I’ll not allow the kids to stay over night when I don’t even know where they are, and where they will be sleeping.  What if there were an emergency?  If he wanted a different plan, he had a chance to work it out with me, but he didn’t.  And so far, it seems that he doesn’t make sure they’re properly fed, when he does have them, or that they’re properly napped.  I might let them stay the night, eventually, but I need to see where they will be staying, first, and I need to be confident that he will be vigilant with them and attentive to their needs.  His track record, per my own observation, is less than inspiring.  It’s the main reason for the parenting plan as it stands.

Besides that, I need to know that his guns are safely locked away.  And how can I ever be sure of that?  Good Lord, there is a pistol upstairs at this very instant, which I am not at all happy with, but I don’t want to touch it.  It’s high atop a shelf, out of sight, and I only found it because I was on tip toes and feeling over the lip of the shelf top, looking for a remote control.  I’m confident that BB won’t be climbing those shelves and will never discover it, and I will insist that it be removed as soon as Gadget sets foot here again.  I accidentally found a gun in one of his desk cubbies before that, and was LIVID.  If I could stumble upon something, so could BB.   One time, before BB was born (I think, I hope), I sat down in Gadget’s chair and a gun tumbled out.  I was HORRIFIED.  And put my foot down immediately that ALL guns be locked up.  I didn’t want ANY in the house at all.  Oh, gosh, I’m getting all worked up now, but suffice it to say that clearly he didn’t respect my wishes, since I’ve discovered loose guns not once, but twice in recent history.  That man cannot seem to grasp the meaning of RISK, in life situations.  He just says “it didn’t happen” and somehow extends that to equate to “‘it never will”.  This goes for his behavior behind the wheel, too.

So.  I will tell him that the kids can’t go visit him until he gives me his address, and they absolutely can’t stay the night until I know that his home is safe.  And how will I ever be able to know that?

I should have stopped at ‘It is done’.  Now I’m fraught.

Oh, how my moods are wearisome.  Bang, bang, as in up, down, slam, slam, no neutral ground.  Polar oppositional.  I wish I would hurry up and cultivate that side of me that takes a moment to take things in, rather than reacts in a knee jerk trigger, resulting in bedlam and emotional mayhem.

The other day I was cheerful, bright and hopeful, on the verge of elation.  I’d received a letter from the court with instructions for the hearing.  It also meant that if Gadget were going to pull any last minute funny business, he’d have had to have served me or otherwise notified me by yesterday.  And he didn’t.  Which means all systems go.  Things are lined up for a smooth and uneventful closure, come Monday.

So why would I be agitated today and yesterday?  The kids push me to my limits and I find myself yelling, mostly at BB.  He wiped his nose on the drapes, and I exploded.  I hate to hear myself like that.  I hear myself screaming and like an out of body experience, I observe and shake my head and wonder, who IS that shrieking harpy, and can’t she see he’s only nearly 5, and of course he doesn’t think about much besides himself.  At what age do children learn consideration for their fellow life forms?  Eventually he cries because I’ve hurt his feelings for shrieking at him.  Ace.  Such a good mother.

After things cool down, I snuggle with him and we talk about it, and I ask him if he understands why I was mad, and what it was he did that made me upset.  He usually does a pretty good recap.  We forgive each other and all is well.

Meanwhile, LB is an imp.  The pediatrician said the most important thing is NOT TO REACT when he does something he shouldn’t do, because that teaches him that there is a response to an action, and that’s kind of fun.  I’ve completely botched this on many occasions.  He stands up in his high chair, and I give him a stern look and tell him to get down, so he sits down, and I say, ‘Good boy!’.  So he does it again.  It’s a game.  I have to be vigilant and remember to strap him in at all times, lest he try this while I’m not sitting directly in front of him.  When he’s decided he’s had enough food, he spits out the bite if the decision comes when there is a bite in his mouth, else he just starts throwing food on the floor or across the room.  Granted, I can see how this is fun, but Lordy, I’m getting tired of the mess.  The thing that frazzles my nerves, however, is the game in which he hurls himself at the fireplace.  We have a gas insert and a brick surround with a brick hearth and a brick mantle.  So much rock for him to smash his head into, and so many angles and opportunities.  I’ve tried putting rugs on the hearth to soften the edges, but that leaves the fireplace and the vertical edges exposed.  I’ve tried large cushions and pillows to make a deep and wide barrier, but he climbs on them and it’s all that much more fun to charge and fling himself at the pile of cushions.  Currently I’ve got a narrow table directly in front of the fireplace, and a big speaker in a speaker stand flanking each side.  This consumes the hearth, and provides a more vertical barrier and a less inviting space to hurl and fling oneself towards.  I don’t like having a table in front of the fireplace, though, and the whole visual effect is less than inspiring.  I need a better solution.

Thank God he knows how to navigate the stairs.

There’s an opportunity to take them to see Walking With Dinosaurs in the spring.  BB loves dinosaurs, and might love the show, but at the same time, might be a little freaked out by it.  Or a lot.  He doesn’t do well with loud noises and vibrations.  A boat ride on choppy water this summer traumatized him, poor little guy.  BB, my gentle giant.  The question is whether or not LB could handle it.  He takes to danger and excitement much more than BB, so he might actually be fine.  He’ll be about 20 months old, when the show takes place.  To go, or not to go.

Now that I’ve taken some time to write it out, it doesn’t seem so bad.  BB is playing his Wolverine spelling game next to me, and LB said ‘Nigh Nigh’ and let me put him to bed.  I’m so proud of him!  No fight.  He was tired and wanted to go!

I have my lovely little daybook that I’m planning to write in every day.  It’s more do-able than committing to a blog post.  I think if I took a few moments to organize my thoughts and make a plan, I might not feel so agitated and frazzled.

No resolutions.  Just plans.

…a new beginning

…a fresh start

…an open book

…exquisite moments ready to burst into being

Hello 2010.  I am ready for you.

It’s not just the end of a year, but the end of a decade.

A decade!

Many momentous happenings.

• The birth of a nephew, and with it, an epiphany that changed my life;  saved my life, even
• The death of a brother
• The birth, life, and death of a marriage; my marriage
• The realization of motherhood; the birth of my two sons
• First teeth, first words, first steps
• Travels in far off places — Italy!  France!  Australia!
• New friends in faraway places; friends in the blogosphere
• Professional growth
• A new car
• A home of my own
• The end of my parents’ marriage
• New love and marriage for my mother
• The beginning and end of a marriage for my brother
• A new nephew; the realized dream of motherhood for my sister
• Two other brothers married
• A new niece on the way; the realized dream of fatherhood for my brother

Much love, sorrow, and joy, these past ten years, but overall, much, much joy.

Adieu, 2009.

Adieu.

My garage door opener is acting up.  As is my coffee machine.  As is my bathroom light.  I wonder if they are on the same circuit?  Unlikely.

Yesterday I couldn’t get my garage door to open.  My front door has a deadbolt lock and an extra security bolt that is always, always engaged.  For security.  But when the garage door won’t open, and one needs to enter the house, what can one do?  There is the third bay for which I actually have a key, but Gadget’s got it so jam packed full of crap that there is absolutely no way to enter.  Hopefully he’ll clear that out soon enough, but for now, it’s of no help.  I might also mention that the electrical panel is on the far wall of that bay, so there will be no repairing of faulty light switches for the time being.

We have a fenced back with locked access gates.  Luckily, the lock was not engaged, so I was able to make it to the back yard and begin scoping the windows in hopes that I’d left one unlocked and unbarred.  We have wood blocks in the window tracks as an added security measure.  All this security.  The stars must have been in alignment, because there was, in fact, an unlocked and unblocked window.  Granted, I destroyed the window screen in my zeal.  Okay, two window screens.  I was thrilled to get in, but also felt vulnerable, wondering how long that window had been left in that state.  I immediately locked it, then went to investigate the garage door situation.  The main controller worked perfectly (opened the door), so what did I do?  I went outside and tried the outside controller again.  It worked!  Yes, it closed the door.  But would it open again?  No.  NO!  Did I mention that I had just locked myself out?  IDIOT.

I scoped the house again, to no avail.  I kept trying the controller, to no avail.  I tried the outside wall controller.  I tried the remote.  I tried the built in car remote.  Nothing.  I kept pushing buttons, and finally, FINALLY, the door opened.  By the grace of God.  I immediately unbolted the front door’s security bolt, so that I could let myself in WITH MY KEY, if I should lock myself out again.  And commenced troubleshooting the garage door system.  Again.  I couldn’t get the remotes to work again, after that.

The antenna is clearly visible.  The main controller works fine.  The sensors are aligned.  One might think perhaps the remote is in need of a new battery, but all three?  The car remote is integrated with the car itself, and would not be low on power.   They should be independent of each other, so that a low battery in one shouldn’t affect them all.  What then?  I’m at a loss.

And today?  So far, it seems to be working normally.

I’m keeping the upper bolt open, though.  Just in case.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile.  I’m on vacation.  I have a week off.  Before the week began, the prospect of a week seemed like wealth untold.  Now, I have four days left and I feel like it’s over before it began.  I’ve been watching TV on DVD, late at night, after the kids are asleep.  Mad Men, seasons 1 and 2.  Drama.  It caught my attention and I enjoyed it.  Arrested Development.  I’m working on season 2.  That one makes me laugh out loud now and then.  I can use that!

I took BB to see Avatar at the IMAX, in 3D last week.  It was amazing.  It was the first time I’d taken him to the thee-AY-doe (theater), and my heart just swelled when I’d see him reaching his hand out into space to try to touch the 3D images.  It was such a special treat, to go to the big screen.  At least, I wanted it to be a magical thing for him.  I know that I would have loved to have had such a treat in my own youth.  I actually almost want to go back and see it again, alone, so I can immerse myself in it more, rather than watch my boy watching it.  It was amazing, what I did see, but I was distracted, watching him.  He did great for a nearly 5 year old.  He was fidgety after the first hour, but he behaved himself.  I’m proud of him.

This morning I saw Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law.  It was fun.  I enjoyed it.  I love RDJ, anyway.  He’s fun to watch.

I’m thinking about going to see New Moon, before my week is up.  I’m feeling a bit movied out, yet may not have a window of opportunity again for quite some time.  I’m planning to visit the art museum on Wednesday, and have to take LB in for his second half of his H1N1 shot on Thursday. Friday is New Year’s day, and that’s the end of the week.  Over, just like that.  I had grand plans of movies, books, window shopping and coffee shops.  Maybe I can squeeze something in on Thursday, after the doctor visit.

I’m not very good at relaxing.

I just found out that I have to pay somewhere around 10k in state taxes to a state in which I don’t live, for property I sold five years ago, and for which I already paid nearly 20k to the federal government.

Boo.

Ignorance is not always bliss.

CRAP.

*~*~*~*~*

Updated to say that, in addition to owing tax, there is interest added on top of that.  I am seriously sick to my stomach.

It’s been quite a ride, the past few weeks.  Months.  Year.

And just now, Gadget came and got the kids for the very first time since his departure.  He’s taking them to see Santa at the mall, and to see his new place.  I have mixed feelings.  Happiness that he’s reaching out to them.  Relief to have a moment to myself.  Anxiety that they’re not in my hands.

I might not have felt so anxious had he not wrecked the truck two weeks ago.

Until then, he wasn’t playing nice.  And then.

It humbled him.  Before he was just acting out in anger, and being very childish and selfish (IMO).  After,  he was more broken and afraid.  The latter is more real, and I can see someone I recognize again, whereas the angry man was such a stranger.

The weekend after that, a pipe burst, and I had to call on him for help.  It was traumatic, but he came through.  And I appreciate it, probably much more than he knows or believes.  I told him as much, but his ears are mostly closed to me now.

And last week.  Work.  Oh, my goodness, work.  It was a momentous week.  We had first flight.  It’s a big, big deal, and it stirs some sort of pride in me, even though I’m far removed from anything specific to do with that effort.  Add to that an emergency server migration, and for icing on the cake, the maiden release of the software application that has consumed me for the better part of the year.  It doesn’t sound like much, when parsed into these few words, but for me, it’s huge.

I was and am so close to an emotional meltdown.  The sheer exhaustion resulting from the pressures and strains from all aspects of life of late.  It’s a lot to bear, and I try to take it in stride, and carry it gracefully.

Of course it all culminates during the holiday season, which in and of itself is a time when depression and stress tend to surface with a vengeance.

BB and I were talking about Christmas, and how exciting it is to wake up on Christmas morning and open your stocking to see what Santa brought.  I started to tell him about how, as children, we’d be SO excited, and we weren’t allowed to open any presents until our parents were up and ready, but we were allowed to take our stockings.  Oh, the joy, wonder and excitement.  And I burst into tears, just thinking about our ratty tatty stockings, and what my destitute mother must have had to go through emotionally every year, to try and find a way to make Christmas for nine children a magical event.  She always pulled it off, though.  It was always wondrous for me, and I think it was as well for the others.

How fortunate my children are, not to know poverty.  Yet, dire straits can teach some great life lessons about the true value of life experiences in contrast with material things.  I know I overindulge them, but I hope I will always be able to temper it.  I hope I can teach them to be considerate of others and not to be selfish.

BB asked me if Santa was going to bring just one present or a whole bunch.  I told him I didn’t know, that we’d have to wait and see.  I bought myself a little time.  Help!  Part of me wants to establish the Santa ground rules.  Does Santa just bring one present?  What if other kids will get lots of presents from Santa?  How does one sort out the comparisons?  So far there is nothing under the tree except things for other people.  What to do.  I’m tempted to say that Santa brings just one present.  If that’s the case, maybe I can put some things under the tree now, and that will be exciting for them to see.  Oh, what to do, what to do.

It’s only hair.  It grows back.

He wanted the Stegosaurus, but it’s more like a cockatoo.  Or one of those little yapper dogs.  I forget what they’re called.  And his little brother, well, it was all I could do to just trim the sides, so he gets the fauxhawk as well, intentional or not.  I practically had to hold him in a headlock.  Apparently he no longer likes the sound of the clippers.

Even so, my GOODNESS, my kids are gorgeous!!!  (Totally biased, I know.)

No worries, they look mostly normal without hair gel.  Aren’t the matching skull and crossbones bathrobes something?  All they need now is a heart tattoo with the word MOM emblazoned on their upper arms.  I actually have some temporary biker tattoos around here somewhere.  That would be fun, to give the grandmothers a fright.