sueeeus

I’ve just dropped the boys off with their dad.  I crave the tidbits of kid-free time that it affords me, but as soon as we part, I fall apart.  Every time.  If I’m not crying on my way home, I’m crying by the time I get there.

I’m nothing, if not consistent.

~*~*~

I try to put my finger on it.  I think a part of it is grief over the absence of a nuclear family.  It seems like it should be so simple.  Why can’t the man be the man and do his job as a man, the woman be the woman, and do her job as a woman, and the couple be a couple and do their job as a couple?  It worked in Mayberry RFD.  It seems like the Cleavers and the Cunninghams had it figured out, too.

Maybe it’s even more simple than that.  Why can’t the grownups be grownups and do what grownups are supposed to do?

~*~*~

I put some valentine goodies together for the boys to share with the other kids, and a card and box of chocolates for them to give their dad and his wife.  I wasn’t planning to do anything at all for Valentine’s Day, but it occurred to me that other kids in school will probably be exchanging valentines, and I don’t want my BB to show up empty handed and feel awkward about it.  So.  He will be well prepared.  While perusing the options, it also occurred to me that the new kids, the step-brother and sisters, would probably be delighted to receive valentines from the boys.  And of course, their dad would probably appreciate the sentiment from his boys as well.

I am a saint.

Mostly, I hope to instill thoughtfulness in my boys.  I doubt they will pick up on it much now, but if I’m consistent and steady, they will hopefully –eventually– learn to think of others, and not just themselves.

~*~*~

I have to get used to the fact that our life isn’t a storybook life.  It’s our own story, and we’re living it, and we’re living it fairly well.  I know this.  I have evidence.  My boys are healthy, boisterous, imaginative, inquisitive, humorous, and playful.  They laugh.  They tease me, tickle me, and play tricks on me.  They sleep soundly.  They are happy.  They know they are loved.

hooray for the birthday boy

Today my BB turned six. He’s such a remarkable young man. He has spunk and attitude, and beneath that, a warm and tender heart.

He’s passionate and sensitive, stubborn, and independent.  He is very physical and very visual.  He likes sticks and stones and leaves and feathers; my little nature boy.

homework - what I did on holiday

He’ll spend  hours working on one page of homework, the results a scribbly mess –because he doesn’t want to do it, and then he’ll whip out a complex drawing in a matter of minutes.  I marvel at his artistic abilities.  He draws from memory, from some picture in his head.  I watched him draw the crabs and trees — he pulled them right out of his mind and put them on the paper.

crabs, coconuts, and sunset

He’s a dreamer, spinning visions of fantastical things with his active imagination.

My friend Sailor once told him that girls get everything they want, so the sooner he accepts that, the better off he will be.  Some people’s friends.  Months later, BB tells me he wants to be a girl, or a grownup.  Because girls get whatever they want, and because grownups get to make their own choices.

One day we were talking about brains and I mentioned that I’d heard that people who are very smart have more lines on their brains.  At school he heard that girls are smarter than boys, and boys are cooler than girls.  Again, he wants to be a girl so he can have more lines on his brain.

But Mama, I’m a boy, so I don’t have very many lines on my brain.

I assured him that there are many boys who are smarter than girls.

It’s thrilling to watch his life unfold, to see the person he has grown to be.  This little one came from me, is a part of me.  I want him to live a beautiful life.  I want him to be secure in the knowledge that he is wanted, treasured, and loved.

the best present ever

How I love this boy!

my precious

My two year old seems to be regressing from his staunch independence, lately, or else he is just honing his manipulation skills.  He’s been sick, off and on, for months.  Cold  upon cold upon cold.  They morph together.  Once in a while his temperature is elevated and he becomes quiet or fussy.  Mostly he goes on about his normal two year old business, full of energy, bouncing off the walls, following me around like a velcro shadow.

He’s become addicted to his binky.  Where it used to be a convenient plug to keep his mouth otherwise engaged, hence safe from all manner of frightening and not- meant- for- ingestion foreign objects that lurk about my household, it is now a full blown addiction.  He has a specific one that he wants, and the collection is stored on a particular shelf in the kitchen.  I encourage him to put it away on the shelf, so that he knows where it is when next  he wants it.  So far, this works well; he understands and complies!  Alas, and not surprisingly, the favorite binky didn’t return from  his last visit with his father, so after much wailing and gnashing of teeth, he resorted to the next favorite.  He calls it his ‘cody’ and throws a holy fit if I don’t have it with me when I pick him up from daycare.  I usually don’t give it to him, though.  I’m so stubborn, and I don’t like him having an addiction.  Such a mean mama, me.

Along with the binky, he is also suddenly attached to a certain (few) blanket(s).  Generally, there is a specific red one that he likes, but occasionally he alternates with a tan one.  Luckily, I have two tan and two red blankies with the same texture, so if/when one gets misplaced or put through the wash, there are others standing by to avert meltdowns and things of that nature.

If I attempt to use my phone or laptop, he physically slaps my hands away from the keys.  My child is yearning for more of my attention, clearly.  Such a controlling little one, my Tiger Beat.

An adorable opportunist, too.  He likes to play with the rice cooker, opening and closing the lid, over and over and over again.  He purposefully pretends to get his fingers caught then comes to me with fingers outstretched, earnest look on his face, begging for make- me- all- better kisses.

my little super man

Since he’s been sick, he’s been waking in the night and coming to find me.  Granted, he’s had some justifiably bad nights with fever and vomiting on one occasion in particular.  But it seems to be dragging on and becoming a nightly pattern that I’d very much like to nip in the bud (even though a part of me would love to snuggle my children close — the same part of me who would very much like to be cuddled close, made to feel safe, loved and protected, all the night long).  If my door is closed, he kneels outside it and cries, or he knocks and cries.  If my door is open, he wants to climb into bed with me.  I take him back to his room to try and settle him, but it seems like he tries to keep himself awake, watching me to make sure I don’t leave.  Last night (early this morning) he came to my room, crying, at 2:38 am.  I took him to his room, changed his diaper, and lay down with him to settle him.  I would rest for a while, then open my eyes to look at him, and there he’d be, his little eyes open, shining in the dark, peering at me.  He was still awake at 4:30 am, looking at me.  Around 5 am I went to my room, and put on my cpap mask.  Pitter patter, the sound of little feet.  I watched him look for me, first in the bathroom, then in the other bedroom, then in my room.  He climbed onto my bed (I let him) then complained about the mask and wouldn’t settle.  I removed the mask and tried to make him cozy and comfortable and he finally fell asleep around 5:30 am.  Of course, 6:30 am rolled around and I had to get up.  He followed.  He’s in surprisingly good spirits for a little guy who got very little sleep.  Me, not so much.  I went to bed around midnight, so two and a half hours plus one more just doesn’t cut it well for me.

What to do, what to do.

the loves of my life

a little bit of goth

• For the record, I’ve been sick since October 3rd.
• It’s beyond old.
• I’ve dragged the family in to see the doctor twice, and we have cascading colds.
• Tomorrow is flu shot day at work.  I almost think there’s not much point in bothering with it.
• I just had an apple so my ears hurt.  Cross reacting food allergies exacerbated by already hyperactive histamine.  Stupid.
• Stupid, stupid, stupid.
• Still coughing.
• Did I say stupid?
• Boo
• In other news, it was fun to play dress up for Halloween!
• LB was the cutest astronaut, and BB was a nicely dramatic scream.

trick or treat

• LB wasn’t so enthused about trick or treating until he realized he was given free rein to ring doorbells.
• The biggest drama?  Where did that blue binky go?  We’re down to the lone survivor from the emergency stash.
• Blogging by bullets.  Pathetic.

twilight

Tonight I wrote ‘Dear John’ letters to all my men, releasing them from my snare.  This meeting and dating business is too overwhelming for me.  I am a sequential person, when it comes to men, and this juggling of men is just exhausting.  I can’t do it.  I need to focus and re-focus then re-focus again on my little men, so that I can keep their interests front and center.

front and center

Front and center. They are my world. As they should be.

I’m too tired to write much.  It’s been an exhausting week.  An exhausting day.  I want to spend some time speaking of how amazing this little man is.  He’s a firecracker.  So passionate.  So full-on.  He’s an amazing little guy, my Tiger Beat.  But I’m just too tired.  Today.  So a handful of pictures will have to do.  Happy birthday, my sweet love.  You are the bestest.

tiger beat, you rock my world

you're my little ray of light

you're my littlest man

the loot – party favors

birthday goodies

confetti cupcakes

ready to roll

breakfast of champions

Stupid stupid stupidy server that keeps choking, how am I supposed to blog with you being so fickle?

Gadget’s MO is to play his passive aggressive games and not give me the courtesy of any advance notice with regard to when he will take the boys. While it appears there may be a light at the end of this tunnel, since he’s expressed interest in synchronizing the visitation with his new woman’s visitation schedule such that all children can be together for the same weekend, there is no guarantee that he will follow through with any level of consistency.

Anyhow. He called at 8 a.m. Saturday morning and said he’d take the kids, and to meet him at 9 a.m. Nice. Does this give me time to make any sort of weekend plans?

I prefer to be able to make plans. I still sort of fall apart when the boys aren’t here. As much as I yearn for some down time or me time, I still haven’t learned how not to fall apart when they’re not here. A cloud of anguish descends — the grief that we aren’t a family, and I so, so, so want to be a family. Not with Gadget. That ship has sailed. It’s just grief that we aren’t a family, or rather, I’m not a family when my boys are gone. So I fall apart. Because, truly, that’s all I want. Family. Sigh. Therefore, knowing this is how things tend to go, I like to be able to book up my alone time so that I don’t have much time to fall under the spell of that cloud that so deftly and swiftly descends upon me.

Luckily, I’ve been able to schedule very short notice massage appointments each time I’ve come upon a free weekend. If nothing else, this indulgence does much to improve my overall well being. Man hands on me, this time for two full hours, working deep, deep, deep into the bound up muscles of my body. Wow, that almost sounds saucy. I could put a little more effort into that prose and come up with something racy! Massage doesn’t have to be man-hands. I’ve been trying different practitioners, but lately am pleased with this particular therapist. He’s got a little familiarity now with what I need, and because we went for two hours yesterday, he really made some progress and was able to loosen up the upper back and shoulders. I’ve been having chronic headaches, so this is a step in the right direction. And besides, I’ll take two hours of man hands on me any day, even if I have to pay for it!

So this free time can become very expensive. Shopping is one thing that gets me out of the house and that can be done on the spur of the moment. And what struck my fancy this weekend? I stumbled upon this iPod speaker contraption called an iHome, that claims to produce excellent sound. It’s kind of odd looking, and more expensive than the other options, but I figured, what the heck. I can return it if I don’t like it. Oh, I love Costco. Love. Costco is my crack. There, I said it.

Of course I can rationalize any mad spending. See, a speaker solution for the iPod allows me to listen to music without having to wear headphones and carry the iPod around. I seldom have pockets, so have to stuff the thing in my bra. And if I’m dancing around, well, it gets sweaty. Gross! Not to mention potentially limiting the lifespan of my iPod. Electronics and moisture don’t play well together. That’s just plain irresponsible, and we can’t have that!  And singing and dancing to music, reliving memories and experiences that the music evokes, is very therapeutic. Therefore it’s good for my soul. Good for my well being. And something that is good for my well being is worth spending mad money on. Yes? Yes!

I’m good. What can I say.

I tried to wrangle together a date or two within my minuscule window, but it’s just as well that I wasn’t successful. I could get myself into trouble if I acted on spontaneity like that! Instead, I stayed in, drank some wine, bombarded everyone’s FaceBook walls, and cyber flirted. So entertaining. This week I’ve had a sugar daddy offer, a few boy toy prospects, a heap of not-at-all-my-type-please-leave-me-alone pursuers, messages from a small handful of actually nice sounding men, including one or two I might agree to actually meet in person. Maybe. Or maybe not.

It’s fun, but wearying. I don’t really want to look around, troll about, or anything like that. I just want Mister Right-For-Me to show up in front of me, and I want to recognize him, say, “Hello there cutie pie, how are you, where have you been all my life?”, to which he says, “Looking for you, Sweetheart”, and that’s that. We live happily ever after. We don’t have to figure out if we’re ready to meet or even be with someone. We don’t have to figure out if we’re compatible. We don’t have to figure out if we’ll get along until we’re a hundred and one. We don’t have to wonder if the love and honor and respect and compassion and communication and understanding and interest and attraction and affection and everything or anything else will ever fade. We don’t have to wonder if the other will help raise our kids the way we want them to be raised. We don’t have to wonder if they’ll be true and honest. We don’t have to wonder if they’ll always have our back.  We don’t have to wonder if they’ll be responsible and trustworthy. We just jump into forever together.

I know. I’m bat crazy.

hello cutie pie, it's me, bat-girl

I don’t want that sugar daddy, though. That much I do know.

Oh, and that iHome thingy?  Sounds pretty darn good.  Whodathunkit?

I’ve been on vacation all week, and it’s been fantastic.  I’ve shaken and sobbed for joy to see a long lost brother, and then again to see another brother’s first, last and only baby — a girl who looks so much like him that I can’t help but gaze in wonder and awe.  I’ve been to two states beyond my own, driven hundreds of miles, experienced sunsets, moonrise, glorious days, wildlife, wildflowers, forests, trails, beaches, lake swimming, campfires, and a thunder storm.  I drank one shot of smooth smooth whiskey and had one breath of something illegal and one breath of something legal.  I’ve played softball with the kids.  I’ve had endless cups of incredible coffee and tea.  I’ve washed mountains of dishes and mountains of laundry.  I’ve seen my children exhilarated, covered in dirt from head to toe.  I’ve read a book (Little Bee, very good).  I’ve napped.  I’ve painted.  I’ve worn shorts – the kind that show my legs.  I’ve stayed up until 3 a.m. juggling conversations with a handful of men.

It’s been a very happy week!

I’m not sure about this dating business.  I’m crap at it.  I’m great at having conversations with people, and we have fun, but I’m at a bit of a loss when it comes to sorting out whether or not there’s a connection, how much of a connection there is, how to part kindly, and also how not to be offended if the man ambles off after making contact and saying he’d like to get to know me better.  Blue collar men, white collar men, older men, younger men.  I saw one man a few times over the course of a few weeks, and thought he had potential, but have since rethought that thought.  He’s an executive and has his act together, but is a bit serious or maybe controlling or possibly both.  I told him I wouldn’t see others while I was getting to know him, out of respect for the getting to know him phase, but I think I’ve gotten to know him enough to know there’s no long term magic.  And I’m conversing with others and planning to meet one or more soon.  So I’ll have to tell him.  I don’t like that part.  There’s another man who I conversed with a bit before I got together with Skills, and he’s resurfaced which I find interesting.  It’s almost like running into an old acquaintance or a long lost friend.  He’s an Irishman, and I’m a total sucker for an Irishman.  I need to be a bit vigilant there!

Sigh.  I’m learning that people are people, and the men seem to think there’s more of a connection than I do.  How does one smile and say, “Honey, you’re a fine man, and I hope you meet a fine woman, but I don’t think we’re a good fit.”  I can say that.  And I can get along with almost anybody.  But I don’t want to force any issues.  I want it to be easy, and I want to feel magic, not just, I’m nice, you’re nice, let’s try this out.

I think that I want all or nothing.  And that’s a tall order to fill.  At least the all part.  Nothing is easy as pie.

Where oh where are those four agreements when I need them?  Specifically, the one about not taking things personally.  I think I have a natural inclination to be impeccable with my word and to do my best, but when it comes to making assumptions and taking things personally, I stumble.  And stumble quickly.

I can only be accountable for my own feelings, and how I feel is a choice, so truly, I should never (or seldom) allow myself to feel hurt.  I need much more practice!  Or a frontal lobotomy.

I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised or caught off guard when I am misunderstood.  Another person’s reception has much to do with their own reality and perceptions and predispositions, so it’s up to them to sort our their own agreements.  Yes, I can strive to be clear, but apart from that, what can I do?

Am I confused?  Of course!  Who isn’t?  Does anybody have all the answers in life?

I try very hard to do no harm, and I apply that philosophy to all living things.  I try, anyway.  My choices sometimes confound others.  I don’t have any desire to be vindictive or spiteful.  I won’t take advantage of some one or some thing, just because I can.

I seek harmony.  I seek peace.

At some point, I suppose I should learn how to better protect myself.  I’m not ready for a frontal lobotomy.  So I’ll just regroup, over and over and over again.  I know my intentions are innocent.  And that’s the extent of my responsibility.

Me.  What comes from me.  Therein is my accountability.

~*~*~*~

lizard tongues

Lizard Tongues!  I absolutely adore BB’s imagination!  He presented them to me on a tray.  Look!  Lizard tongues!  And he picked one up and blew the end to make it extend.  Priceless.

~*~*~*~

hearty bliss

It takes nearly an hour, but I am IN LOVE with steel cut oats!  The secret to their divinity is toasting them first in butter, then cooking them slowly in 1 part milk and 3 parts water to 1 part oats (and a dash of salt).  OMG.  Chop up some dried apricots and cranberries and it’s pure, hearty bliss.

adorned

Today I honored myself.

I bought some pretty things to adorn myself.  Pretty things to celebrate me.  Pretty things to make me feel more pretty.  This year I’ve lost 38 lbs, without dieting and without trying.  I think the hot mama in me is re-emerging.  She’s been buried for a very long time.  She’s coming back, because I’m coming back.  I’m finding myself again, rising from the rubble of the past fifteen or twenty years.

Today I had a migraine.  Today I took vicodin.  Today I had a massage.  Today I shopped.  Today I walked.  Today I had ice cream.  Today I walked through a mall with no anxiety.  Today I had the worst Thai food ever.  Today I told my kids I love them.  Today I dreamed.  Today I smiled.  Today I laughed.  Today blue eyes looked into brown eyes.  Today I talked to people I love.  Today I remembered people I lost.  Today I shared precious memories.  Today I learned new things.  Today I embraced.  Today I kissed.  Today I listened.  Today I talked.  Today I heard music.  Today I danced.  Today I stretched.  Today I did yoga.  Today I sang my heart out.  Today I cried my eyes out.

Today I realized that everything is going to be okay.  Today I am ready to let go.  Today I let go.  Today I am at peace.  Today I am ready to rest.

Today was a very good day.